Free My Clockwork Muse by D.R. Erickson Page B

lips parted slightly. Noticing my embarrassment, she
lowered her gaze, but I could see that she looked upon the scene of
her father's work with practiced neutrality. Whatever she had heard
from my lips, she had no doubt heard a thousand times before.
    Seeing her now in the company of Coppelius, I
pondered how divinely gorgeous her mother must have been to offset
her father's hideousness in producing such a lovely daughter as
Olimpia. I found it an intriguing puzzle, however much the idea of
a wife to Coppelius repulsed me.
    "My trousers," I said, with a little
embarrassment at calling attention to my condition. "Where are
they?"
    "You needn't concern yourself with your
trousers just now, Edgar," Coppelius said. "You must rest. I
daresay, you are fortunate to still be among the living."
    "That's what I've been saying." I rose up
from my pillows again only to be forced back down.
    Coppelius pointed his eye at me crossly.
"What you have been saying makes no sense. Monsters ... Bah! You
would be well-advised to speak a little less freely of monsters and
dead men. As your doctor, Edgar, I understand your condition ...
The challenges you face. Others might be less understanding."
    "You think I imagined it." The thought came
as a revelation to me. My words were more accusation than
question.
    "I think you were fortunate not to be killed
in your own fire, Edgar."
    My flesh began to creep. "My own fire?" It
sounded too much like Gessler referring to 'my man Burton'. My man? My fire? By God, I was sleeping when
Gessler ushered me into that foul dungeon! I struggled for words to
express my outrage. "Are you saying ... What are you saying?
That I set some fire? It was the dead man, Burton, who was burning!
And even then, he continued to pursue me, engulfed in flames!"
    Coppelius frowned. "You continue to speak of
this dead man, this Burton—"
    "But he lives, I tell you." How could I
explain what I myself did not understand?
    "Then let the living be!" Coppelius snapped.
"For your own good. I'm telling you, no more talk of Burton. Or
ghouls. Or ghosts."
    "But I am only saying what happened."
    Coppelius cocked his eye at me sharply. "And
I am only saying, Edgar, that the firemen who rushed into that
blazing basement, pulled you52 \f "Times New Roman" \s 12 and you
alone— from the flames."
    The words struck me in the face with greater
force than even the spray of spittle from his misshapen lips. He
sat scowling at me, his spit-moistened mouth twisted into a baleful
frown. I looked past him and saw Olimpia slide out of the doorway
and disappear into the other room.
    "Me alone?" I repeated in disbelief. "None
other?"
    Coppelius shook his head sadly.
    I suddenly felt beset by enemies. I knew what
Doctor Coppelius thought, that I had imagined the creature. Gessler
believed even more—that I had killed the man to begin with. I knew
only what my senses conveyed to me. Unfortunately, what my senses
conveyed to me was madness.
    Once my shock had subsided, however, I found
the explanation actually rather quite simple. Of course!
    "Obviously," I said with equal measures of
hopefulness and certainty, "the fiend was consumed in the flames.
He must have been consumed utterly. My God, man, he was
half-consumed when I ... when I left him!"
    "There was no fiend, Edgar."
    "Then how do you explain what I saw? Are you
calling me a liar, sir?"
    "If I believed you lying, son, this matter
could be easily put to rest. As it is, I’m afraid there is no
simple solution."
    "Then you think I'm mad." By God, it was
true! I wanted to leap from my bed and run, but my clothes had been
taken from me. I looked wildly around the room. Was I a
prisoner?
    "Not mad—" Coppelius began.
    "Then what else can it be? Who but a madman
would believe he was chased by a corpse when he was not?" I found
myself laughing. "Is this a common enough delusion that a sufferer
should just shrug his shoulders and say 'I must have been
mistaken'? What trick of light produces corpses bent