The Blood Thief of Whitten Hall (A Magic & Machinery Novel Book 2) (25 page)

Simon shook his head, still unsure of the creature’s sincerity. Luthor had once called Simon a bleeding heart for so willingly accepting people at their word, though in Luthor’s defense, he had been referring to a damsel in distress and not an ancient evil from beyond the Rift. There was a part of the Inquisitor that wanted to believe the vampire could change, but a much stronger part of him knew that few people, if ever, really changed their hearts.

Changing the subject, Simon recalled the narrow exploratory tunnel carved off the main mine, which led toward the room in which they now found themselves. “The miners found you when they were searching for another vein of iron, didn’t they? They blasted directly into your chamber.”

The vampire sighed, knowing his words were falling on deaf ears. “I could barely lift my head at their presence. They fetched the chancellor, who saw in me a potential for power and glory, the likes of which he could never attain as merely a servant of another king. He saw in me opportunity, and I saw in him my own evil mirrored in someone else’s eyes. He fed me enough to regain my strength but immediately siphoned the new blood from my veins, using it to create his own abominable vampire army. Had I not spared your life, you would have become the latest in a long line of victims to his growing lust for conquest.”

Simon pushed away from the step and brushed the dust from his wrinkled suit.

“Set me free,” the vampire urged. “Unbind my limbs and let me take my revenge on the chancellor. I want to atone for the sins of my past and putting an end to the vampire horde I helped create is the first step to that realization.”

“I appreciate you sparing my life—”

“Release me!” the vampire interrupted, begging as he already sensed Simon’s hesitation.

Simon turned away from the vampire and walked toward the stone doors that led from the chamber. He had no weapons and would soon be walking into a den of vampires unarmed, but he saw few other options. Remaining in the presence of the elder vampire wasn’t feasible, since Martelus’ men would eventually return, expecting to collect their blood sacrifice. His only hope was that it was now daytime, and the vampires were slumbering in their alcoves. Simon paused and stroked his chin, wondering if the vampires even slept at all. His escape would be short-lived indeed if the vampires were awake as he passed through their barracks.

“Have you no honor, no integrity? Even you, who Whitten warned was one of the best of your kind, lacks the honor to set me free even after I’ve spared your life. If you and Whitten’s kind are representative of your world of science, then you deserve to burn when the demon lords come to claim this land.”

Simon turned sharply toward the archaic creature. “What did you say?”

“I hope you burn,” the vampire spat, though even his attempt at disgust seemed abnormally feeble.

Simon shook his head, no longer feeling disgust toward the vampire before him. “No, about the demons.”

“The demon lords will cross through the Rift and enslave your world,” it replied.

“Exactly how many demons are there?”

The vampire seemed taken aback by the sudden shift in conversation. “Five of them,” it stammered. “What difference does it make? It will take but one of them to destroy you and your kind.”

Simon smiled to himself. “No, it’ll probably take at least two by my count.”

Before the vampire could respond, Simon placed his hands on his hips. “What do you know of the demon lords?”

The vampire grasped the arms of his chair nervously as he spoke. “It has been ages since I left the land, so it’s possible those ruling have changed, but there were always five demon lords who ruled over our realm. Each possessed a special power, which gave them sway over the minds and souls of those under their rule. Their power was unbridled and unsurpassed, even by one as strong as me.”

Simon heard him speak but fixated on the mention of controlling men’s minds, as he had experienced so recently upon his unfortunate encounters with Gideon Dosett. “You seem to have no love lost for these demon lords.”

The vampire frowned. “If I was a savage in my youth, they would have been spiteful gods, tormenting and destroying those beneath them on little more than a whim. Perhaps my imprisonment has granted a different perspective to their brutality.”

The Inquisitor stood in the center of the room and stared intently at the vampire. “Assuming the demon lords have already arrived, how can we stop them?”

“You couldn’t, at least, not alone. You would need powerful allies with even more powerful abilities.”

“Like yourself?” Simon asked.

“Myself and others, like your traveling companions,” the vampire replied.

“If the demon lords are here, not just in our kingdom but throughout our realm, would you fight for us if freed? Would you be an ally against a greater evil?”

The vampire nodded slowly and attempted a smile that only drew the taut skin further across its skull. “Yes, if it will prove my good intent. I will stand with your kingdom against the demons.”

Simon stroked his chin thoughtfully, feeling the now two-day-old stubble that covered his usually clean-shaven face. Mattie had proven herself an incredibly capable and trustworthy ally, not just in Haversham but since. It was possible, though even Simon felt hesitant to admit it, that the ancient vampire could be another unusual companion against a growing evil at their borders. The threat of magic was growing. If Gideon Dosett was but the first of five demon lords, he would need powerful friends, indeed.

“I’ll set you free from this prison, though not now,” Simon finally said after a lengthy pause.

The vampire sighed disconcertingly.

“You’re right, I owe you my life,” the Inquisitor continued. “I don’t know if your words were true or hollow, but I’ve been accused of being far too forgiving in the past, offering second chances to those who don’t deserve our benevolence. I see potential in you, vampire. When next I return to you, I promise that I shall take you from this prison once and for all.”

The vampire nodded hesitantly. “I look forward to your return.” It pointed to the doorway behind Simon. “You should hurry before the sun rises and the vampires return to their berths.”

Simon nodded toward the vampire before turning toward the stone doors once more. He pulled them open but paused at the doorway, glancing back once more to the weary vampire who, for the first time, raised his head proudly with a sense of hope. Despite the bindings on its wrist, the vampire raised his hand appreciatively. Simon nodded once more and hurried into the large chamber beyond, letting the door swing shut behind him.

He collected a torch from the wall and held it aloft as he entered the debris-strewn room beyond the vampire’s carved prison. He stepped gingerly through the discarded waste, the whole while keeping his eyes averted from the pile of bloodless human remains he knew to be piled against the far wall.

As he neared the center of the chamber and could finally see the narrow path leading upward toward the vampires’ barracks, he stooped and collected a pair of wooden stakes from the debris.

Reaching the far side of the room, he rushed up the passage, knowing that whether the vampires had returned to the mines or not, his fate was already sealed.

Luthor and Mattie sped through the dark forest, their every step dogged by vampires. The monsters moved with incredible speed, but the dense underbrush of the nearby woods allowed the two companions to stay ahead of their pursuers.

The apothecary grunted as Mattie released a low-hanging branch, which snapped backward, striking Luthor in the face. He could hear her breathless apology but he ignored it, knowing they both ran with reckless abandon and little attention to courtesies toward one another.

Luthor wasn’t entirely sure the direction they were running. At first, he had wanted to run out of town in the opposite direction of the mines, knowing that path would lead, after some time, back to civilization and the other Inquisitors. However, the quick pursuit of the vampires had undermined his plans, forcing him and Mattie to flee toward the chancellor’s manor house and, eventually, the mine itself.

“Use your magic and force them back,” Mattie said, gasping for air. She was in far better shape than Luthor, who labored to keep up with her long strides. Were it not for Luthor being in tow, he was certain she would have already transformed into a werewolf and fled on all fours.

“I… I can’t… concentrate on drawing a rune,” Luthor replied through hitched breaths. “We’d have to stop first.”

He glanced over his shoulder but couldn’t see any of their captors. Despite their view being free of pursuers, they could hear the vampires crashing through the underbrush all around them as they sought the pair. Stopping was equivalent to committing suicide, for it wouldn’t be long until one or more of the vampires stumbled upon them which, in turn, would alert the others.

His legs were starting to cramp from exertion. This scenario had been his fear when they were still bound in the closet. Freeing himself from their bindings had been easy and could have been accomplished at any time, yet he had no idea what to do once they were free. It was a four-day train ride from Whitten Hall to Callifax. If he recalled the map of the area correctly, it would be at least a half-day’s hike to the nearest outpost in the region, though there would be no guarantee that the next location would be any safer, nor was he sure he could maintain so grueling a pace for the time required.

He wasn’t a planner. He researched their missions and provided historical and mythological context for their assignments, but it was Simon and his brash overconfidence that provided the true way ahead. The realization that his inaction might have been the cause of Simon’s death struck him doubly hard.

“I can’t keep running like this,” Luthor stammered. “They’re undead… they’ll never tire. Right now, I think they’re just toying with us until we’re too tired to fight.”

“I think you’re right,” she replied as she scanned the dark forest around them. “At this rate, I don’t think it will be much longer, either. We have to be ready.”

Ahead, Mattie slowed her pace. She reached up and tore her leather jerkin free, dropping it into the grass. Luthor leapt over the discarded garment even as she slipped her tunic over her head. Luthor saw the smooth curve of her exposed back as her pace slowed to a quick jog. His already pounding heart raced a little quicker, despite knowing that this was merely the first stage of her transformation.

“They are getting close,” she said over her shoulder. “We’ll have to stop to defend ourselves soon, whether we want to or not.”

“I’d rather stand and fight…” Luthor began before pausing to catch his breath once more. “…than continue this inane chase.”

The underbrush cleared ahead, providing a small clearing through which the moonlight filtered. Mattie stopped in the middle of the clearing, tearing at her flesh as she turned. Her skin dropped in sheets to the carpet of grass at her feet. Luthor’s stomach dropped at the sight, certain that he would never grow accustomed to seeing such a bizarre transformation.

She tore aside her leather pants, ruining the clothing as her fur-covered legs erupted from behind her peach-colored flesh. The werewolf stood before him moments later in her full majesty.

Luthor dropped his hands to his knees as he stopped beside her, gasping for breath. He ran a sweaty hand over his upper arm, activating a rune concealed beneath his sleeve. His protective shell shimmered around him briefly before fading to complete transparency.

“They’re coming quickly,” Mattie said, sniffing the air. “Prepare yourself.”

The first vampire crashed through a bush beside Luthor, slamming its claws into his chest. The protective shell flashed, delivering an electrical current through the monster and sending it flopping limply to the ground. The impact sent the apothecary tumbling. He saw the moon briefly before his view changed to the soft grass and soil. He quickly regained his senses and stood, even as a second creature erupted from the underbrush.

It reached toward Mattie, but her heightened senses were far quicker. She slid effortlessly out of its clawed grip before swiping with claws of her own. Her elongated nails tore the skin of the vampire’s chest, though the wound refused to seep blood. Injured but undeterred, the vampire merely took a step backward before hissing, exposing its fangs. Mattie snarled in response, her canines far longer than the vampire’s.

Cold hands closed over Luthor’s shoulders as a new adversary emerged. The protective shell sparked once more, but most of its magic was spent. Luthor could sense the vampire’s obvious discomfort as pulses of electricity rolled through its arms, but it merely tightened its grip in response, digging its nails painfully into the soft skin of his upper arms.

Luthor cringed as his spell faded. The pain was intense, as though the vampire was interested only in shattering his shoulders before feasting on his blood. Clarity of thought was fleeting, even as he tried to concentrate on activating another rune, either one drawn in the air or one of the remaining ones tattooed on his body. With the vampire’s grip intensifying on his shoulders, his arms lacked the strength to do either.

His vision blurred from the pain. He could see Mattie dueling the vampire before her. In the hazy periphery of his vision, he could see the electrocuted vampire stirring, the electricity stunning but failing to kill that which was already dead.

The vampire behind him said nothing at all, though he could feel its warm breath and smell the scent of decay as it opened its mouth. Luthor closed his eyes, despite the fact that he could see nothing of his captor. He would rather not be fully aware of the moment of his demise.

Instead of fangs piercing his neck, the vampire lurched forward, slamming his weight into Luthor’s back. They both stumbled forward, the vampire’s grip releasing from his shoulders. The apothecary could feel blood seeping from the fingernail wounds on his arms, and the cold numbness spread through his upper limbs as circulation returned.

He turned slowly, still painfully aware that he lacked the feeling in his arms to cast another rune. To his surprise, the vampire had collapsed to his knees. The sharpened tip of a stake protruded from his chest, toward which he stared in utter disbelief. The vampire released a hiss of anguish as it pitched forward into the grass.

Simon stepped nimbly over the fallen form, driving a second stake into the spine of the electrocuted vampire. It arched its back in horror even as the Inquisitor withdrew the weapon and drove it downward again, this time with far more accuracy as the wooden handle pierced the creature’s heart.

Luthor stared at his mentor in awe, amazed that the man was still alive, much less that he had come to their rescue. For a moment, he considered the irony, that they had escaped their vampire captors with the intent of finding and freeing Simon but instead found themselves in his debt.

“I don’t—” Luthor began before Simon silenced him with a wave of his hand.

The Inquisitor stepped past Luthor and entered the clearing, pausing beside Mattie. The vampire at her feet was shredded, its flesh flayed from its bones. Despite its inability to properly be killed by normal means, the creature was in obvious debilitating pain.

The vampire noticed the Inquisitor, a look of surprise evident even upon its vampiric features. “We thought you were dead.”

“She thought you were dead,” Luthor corrected. “I never doubted your seeming immortality for a moment, sir.”

Simon shrugged. “There was a brief moment where I was sure I was dead as well. I’ve never been so glad to disappoint everyone, myself included.” He glanced down at the squirming vampire, admiring the wounds even as they slowly regenerated. “Finish this one, if you please, Miss Hawke.”

Mattie clasped her large paws on either side of the vampire’s head, using her opposable thumbs to hold his head firmly in place. With a sharp upward jerk, the vampire’s neck snapped. Its eyes fluttered for a second before its body went limp. Mattie placed her foot on its chest and yanked upward, tearing the head from the body. She tossed it aside, not bothering to even admire her superhuman strength.

Luthor paled at Mattie’s brutality, but he shifted his attention to the Inquisitor instead. “Forgive my asking, sir, but how is it that you aren’t dead? When last we heard, you were being taken before the elder vampire.”

“And so I was,” Simon replied, “though clearly, he didn’t bite me.”

“Why not, if I may be so bold as to ask?”

“I had something he needed.”

Luthor furrowed his brow. “Your blood, sir?”

Simon shook his head. “My freedom, the one thing he could offer under the auspice that I would, in turn, offer him his.”

“You didn’t, though, did you?” Mattie asked. “You didn’t actually release the vampire.”

“I promised him I would free him from his prison when the time was right and I intend to uphold that promise, though the full story will have to wait for a more optimal time. These three weren’t the only vampires out tonight, searching for the two of you. I eluded at least two more who will certainly have heard the scuttlebutt.”

Luthor cringed at the thought of running further, but he gestured toward the far side of the clearing. “Lead the way, sir. You seem to have a fair better idea of where we should go from here.”

Mattie retrieved her clothing but remained in the form of a werewolf. She held her shredded pants aloft and slowly shook her white mane. Discarding the ruined leather pants, she claimed only her tunic, jerkin, and boots.

Simon set off at once, leading them further into the gloomy woods and further away from Whitten Hall. They paused often, listening intently for the sound of pursuit. With all the activity within the forest, the insects and other animals had all fallen silent. Every crash of underbrush or snap of a twig was a sign of pursuit rather than a random woodland creature.

A few times, they heard vampires pursuing them, though they always seemed far off from their current position. After a moment’s hesitation, Simon led them onward.

Eventually, the sound of pursuit was replaced by the gentle lapping of the stream. They came across the narrow river before long, its dark waters reflecting the moonlight as the canopy of leaves parted overhead. Simon glanced downstream to the covered bridge, but instead led the companions the opposite direction. A few hundred feet up river, he paused before a dilapidated tree, which dangled awkwardly over the water. Its roots had pulled partially from the ground, lifting like a basket toward the night sky.

“We’ll spend the night here until dawn,” Simon explained.

Luthor looked at the leaning tree and arched an eyebrow inquisitively. “We’ll stay where, exactly, sir?”

Simon walked to the water’s edge and crouched, pointing toward the mound of dirt before him. Luthor followed until he noticed a natural cavern of soil, created by the cage of tree roots. The space beneath the tree would be tight for three people and maneuvering would be difficult, but it would be impossible to spot unless the vampires knew of its location.

“How did you find this?” Mattie asked, even as she realized her large bulk as a werewolf would never fit within its close confines.

“I was following the river as I tried to avoid detection. I stumbled upon it entirely by accident, but I tried my best to remember its location for future use.”

A distal curse alerted them that their pursuers were gone, but hardly forgotten.

“Hurry inside, both of you,” Simon ordered.

Mattie glanced at the dark chasm and then to her few remaining articles of clothing. She looked pleadingly toward Simon, who frowned his disapproval.