The Blood Thief of Whitten Hall (A Magic & Machinery Novel Book 2) (27 page)

The man at the foot of the stairs turned at the footsteps, his eyes widening with surprise at the sight of the Royal Inquisitor. He spun in his chair and tried to stand as Simon reached the last step. As the man climbed to his feet, Simon slammed the chunk of wood into the man’s forehead. He collapsed back into his chair, his arm catching on the table and nearly tumbling it as well in the process.

The replacement bartender reached quickly behind the bar as Simon dropped the wood to the floor. The Inquisitor’s long strides carried him to the bar as the bartender reemerged, a dagger held firmly in his grasp. The man lunged across the platform, the point of the dagger aiming true for Simon’s chest.

The Inquisitor grasped the man’s wrist with one hand while grabbing a handful of his hair with the other. With the man stretched across the bar, he was overbalanced and in a poor position to stop Simon from slamming his face into the wooden counter. With a twist of the man’s wrist, Simon took the knife from his grasp. Spinning the blade with practiced grace, the Inquisitor slammed the blade down into the wooden bar top, less than an inch from the bartender’s nose.

The bartender whimpered and his eyes crossed as he tried to focus on the dagger’s sharp edge dangling so close to his flesh.

“You have taken from me my pistol, which was a priceless gift and something I adore; my top hat, which is closer to me than my immediate family; and my Inquisitor kit, a square, wooden box which contains of number of items I’ll need in the foreseeable future. Where are they?”

“I’m… I don’t really—” the bartender began, his words faltering with every attempt.

Simon yanked backward on the man’s hair, lifting his face a couple inches from the table before slamming it back down onto the bar. The man spat blood across the wooden counter as he groaned in pain.

“I lost patience with this town nearly twenty-four hours ago,” Simon continued. “Do not be the man on whom I express my displeasure. My belongings, if you please.”

The bartender’s shaking hand pointed toward a door behind him.

“I am much obliged,” Simon said with a soft smile.

The bartender tried to return a nervous smile from his awkward position, but Simon slammed his head back down into the bar. The bartender slumped limply as the Inquisitor released his hair, and he slid out of view as he collapsed.

Simon pulled free the knife and walked around the bar.

“So much for discretion, I assume, sir?” Luthor asked as he and Mattie descended the stairs.

The man near the foot of the stairs stirred and groaned, grasping toward the large welt on his forehead. A swift kick from Mattie laid him out once more.

“There is a time and place for discretion, Luthor.”

“A time and a place that you will change at your whim, I notice.”

Simon glanced over his shoulder toward his traveling companion, his face devoid of amusement. He turned the handle to the tavern’s rear office and entered the dimly lit room.

The room was cramped, with an office desk and coat rack pressed against one wall and a bookshelf against the other, with little room between. Stacks of papers covered the desk, seemingly without rhyme or reason to their placement. Simon’s gaze shifted instead to the bookshelf and the coat rack, and his eyes lit with excitement.

His top hat hung from the coat rack, dusty but seemingly unscathed. His Inquisitor’s kit and pistol had been placed upon one of the empty shelves like trophies. Simon retrieved them all and, as he slid the revolver into its holster and the top hat on his head, felt again like himself.

“Sir?” Luthor asked from the doorway. “We should be going soon. Surely people will be returning to the town before long. Plus, it’s growing close to noon already and we have miles to go before nightfall.”

Simon opened the Inquisitor’s kit and began retrieving items that he thought would help against the vampire horde. “Were you able to salvage anything from your room?”

The apothecary shrugged as he retrieved a handful of glass vials from his coat pocket. “There was little unbroken, but these will have to do until we can return to Callifax and resupply.”

Wooden stakes, vials of holy water, and the remaining silver bullets filled his pockets as he finished with the Inquisitor’s kit. He closed it, handing the wooden box to Luthor. Simon’s gaze fell once more to the papers on the desk, many of which were blank. A quill and inkwell were pressed against the back of the narrow desk.

Simon sat in the office’s chair and pulled a fresh piece of paper in front of him. He flipped the inkwell open as he picked up the quill.

“We don’t have time for memoirs, sir,” Luthor insisted.

Simon shook his head as he began scribbling quickly on the paper, his words barely legible even to his own trained eyes. “This is important. You’ll have to bear with me a moment longer.”

His note took no time to complete. When he was finished, Simon read his words and frowned deeply, an ache reverberating in his chest. He pushed back the chair and stood. Folding the letter in half, he handed it to Luthor.

“Take this with you when you go,” Simon ordered. “When you get back to Callifax, make sure this gets in the right hands.”

“When
we
get back to Callifax, you mean, sir.”

Simon shook his head. “If I don’t stay, the vampires will catch you within the first night. Someone needs to delay their pursuit, and no one is better suited for that than me. Moreover, if we did by some miracle escape, the vampires would merely scatter long before a sufficient force could be mustered to return to Whitten Hall.”

Luthor unfolded the note as Mattie stepped beside him.

“This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?” Mattie asked. “You never intended to come back.”

Simon scoffed at the idea. “Don’t be preposterous, Matilda. Of course I intend to come back. I wouldn’t dream of doing something this foolish if I thought I might die.”

Luthor looked up from the letter and blanched. “Sir, you can’t be serious.”

“About not dying? I most certainly am.”

“About the letter, you damned fool!”

Simon’s expression lost its humor, and he nodded seriously. “I’m most serious about that as well, Luthor. You said it yourself. Sometimes, it’s not about doing what we want; sometimes, we just have to do what’s right.”

The Inquisitor exited the back office, leading the other two toward the tavern’s front door. He glanced out the window and nodded, as he saw no one else on the outpost’s solitary road. He turned back toward his two companions.

“The train just departed yesterday and usually takes four days to return to Callifax. That makes seven days remaining total before it makes a return to Whitten Hall. Therefore, I will keep the vampires occupied for exactly seven days. If you’re late, I can’t uphold my promise of not dying. Am I understood?”

“Sir—” Luthor began before Simon silenced him.

“We hardly have time for sentimental goodbyes, my good man. Keep focused on the task at hand.”

The Inquisitor glanced to Mattie, sensing that she would be the more sensible of the two at the moment. “Sunset is in approximately…” He pulled his pocket watch from his vest and glanced at the time, which read just past noon. “Six hours from now. That won’t be much of a head start. Stay away from the train tracks, since I’m certain the humans will be watching that avenue. Your best bet is to move through the crags and ravines we saw from the train as we approached.”

Luthor shook his head as he slowly absorbed everything his mentor was saying. “Those rocky canyons are a maze of trails. We’d be lost in no time at all.”

“I can find our way through,” Mattie replied. “If people have passed that way, they’ve left a scent that I can follow.”

“Good,” Simon said, nodding to his friends. “The train will reach Callifax in three days’ time and then immediately prepare for a return trip. Luckily, the train moves slowly. If you can find another means of conveyance, you can beat the train to Callifax and have everything ready before its return departure.”

Luthor stepped forward and embraced the Inquisitor. “I know you’re not one for sentimental farewells, sir, but do be safe.”

Simon returned the man’s embrace before inviting Mattie to join them. “I would prefer to be alive upon your return. Do try not to be late.”

They released one another, and Luthor cleared his throat hoarsely.

“We should be going,” Mattie said sorrowfully, glancing at the Inquisitor.

“Take care of him,” Simon told her. He turned his attention to the apothecary. “Take care of yourself. Now go, both of you, before we waste any more daylight.”

They stopped at the door and glanced once more down the road. Seeing no one still, they pulled open the door. Mattie stepped through cautiously as Luthor held the door. Simon handed the apothecary the knife he had taken from the bartender. The two men nodded to one another.

“I’ll come back, sir, I promise.”

Simon smiled as he gestured toward the street. “If you don’t and they turn me into a vampire, I promise you’ll be the first one I feed upon.”

Luthor smiled wistfully as he stepped through the door and into the glaring sunlight.

Simon stood by the door for a moment longer, watching his two companions hurry toward the far side of the town before stepping through the doorway himself and disappearing into the woods.

Luthor clamped his hand tightly over Mattie’s mouth as they pressed themselves into the shadow of the boulder. The scuffle of footsteps could be heard all around them as the search party grew ever closer.

“Where the bloody hell are they?” one of the hunters asked.

Someone else scoffed derisively nearby. “We spotted them from the last ridge. They couldn’t have gotten far. Spread out and find them.”

Dust fell onto them from above as one of the men stepped atop the boulder underneath which they hid. The toe of his boot pushed dirt onto them, and Luthor had to fight to stifle a sneeze. He furiously blinked away the dirt from his eyelashes. Sure that if he moved his arms, they’d both be spotted.

For a painful few minutes, the man merely stood atop his perch, scanning the labyrinth of crags and canyons that marred the wooded countryside. A rockslide from times long past had left boulders strewn across the valley, forming a maze of interconnected passages that, to the unskilled and untrained, were nothing more than a veritable death sentence for those that got lost.

As the man began to step away, Luthor inhaled deeply and dust flew into his nose. It tickled his throat and despite his best efforts, he struggled to suppress the cough in his throat. Placing his free hand over his own mouth, he muffled the inevitable cough as much as possible.

The man turned at the sound and raised a hand to his brow, blocking out the light of the setting sun. He scanned amidst the boulders once more, looking for their long shadows cast upon the ground. Seeing none, he turned away begrudgingly and stepped back onto the path.

Luthor sighed quietly, thankful that his misstep hadn’t revealed them to their pursuers. Mattie had been masterfully traversing the maze of stone, but she was working in unfamiliar territory. Their pursuers clearly knew the lay of the land far better and had little trouble catching up to the pair.

“I don’t see them,” their lookout called, his voice echoing over the boulders.

“They’re here somewhere,” the group’s de facto leader replied. “The chancellor will have our hide if we don’t find them.”

“We’ll find them.”

Someone else called from across the stones. “The sun’s setting. We won’t be much good out here once it does.”

Luthor glanced at the last rays of sunlight filtering through the trees on the far edge of the valley. The sun was setting quickly, and it wouldn’t be long before the last of the sunlight was stolen from them. Though Mattie had exceptional nighttime vision, Luthor wasn’t so blessed. The night would be dark and would most certainly favor the vampires.

The leader huffed loudly enough that Luthor heard it from their place of concealment. “Fine. Leave them; let the vampires hunt them tonight. It doesn’t matter; they won’t escape the chancellor’s men alive.”

The search party gathered together on the tall stones behind Luthor and Mattie and scanned the valley once more, hoping for some sign of life. When they saw none, they turned as a group and marched back toward Whitten Hall.

Luthor and Mattie remained silent until long after the sound of footfalls had fallen silent. Eventually, Mattie reached up and pulled Luthor’s hand away from her mouth.

“They’re right, you know,” the redhead said, pointing toward the setting sun. “We haven’t put nearly enough ground between us and the outpost. The vampires are going to catch us once the sun sets.”

“Then we had best hurry before we lose the light completely,” Luthor replied.

As he took her by the hand, they burst from the dark shadows of the boulders and hurried back into the labyrinth. Luthor slowed, letting Mattie take the lead. She ran quickly but paused often to sniff the air or stare intently at the ground before her.

Luthor followed close behind, but his gaze often fell instead to the rapidly setting sun. Simon had told them to put as much distance as possible between themselves and Whitten Hall before dusk, but none of the three had anticipated how long it would take to pass through the crevices, nor how quickly the human colluders would pursue. No sooner had Luthor and Mattie entered the valley than the group from Whitten Hall had been in pursuit.

The apothecary thought briefly of Simon and hoped his mentor was safe. Despite the Inquisitor’s constant bluster, Simon was putting himself in great harm’s way by remaining behind. The vampires would have to give chase if they wanted to catch Luthor and Mattie, but they’d have to spend no time at all pursuing Simon, assuming he didn’t manage to find another exceptional hiding spot amongst the woods and underbrush.

The thought of Simon remaining alone and knowing they only had seven days in which to return drove Luthor on. With Mattie in the lead, they quickly emerged from the valley. They scrambled up the incline on the far side, their hands searching for purchase amongst the roots and thin grasses.

With a heaving chest and burning lungs, Luthor finally crested the hill. They paused, and he placed his hands on his knees as he struggled to catch his breath. Mattie stood beside him, her chest heaving as well but seemingly in much better control of her faculties. For a moment, Luthor envied her wolf-like stamina.

Luthor’s gaze fell across the valley, and the burning in his legs was quickly forgotten. The sun had set during their ascent and now dark shadows settled over the valley below. The shade between the boulders that had served so well as concealment during their daytime pursuit now became black voids, pits in which inhuman monsters could pass unseen. The apothecary strained to hear the sound of a chase but heard nothing. He glanced toward Mattie, who was likewise listening, but she merely shook her head.

“I never thought I would say this, but I truly wish we were being chased again by a pack of werewolves,” Luthor remarked. “At least then they would be howling as they caught our scent. This deathly silence is unnerving.”

Mattie narrowed her gaze as she stared across the chasm of the valley. Her mouth fell into a frown as her eyes widened in surprise.

“That won’t be necessary,” she said, pointing toward gaps in the maze below. “They’re coming.”

Luthor followed her directions and saw human shapes flittering amidst the stones. They were moving quickly enough that his mind swore they were merely hallucinations, blurs in the shapes of men that were there one moment and gone the next. His rational mind refused to fully see the vampires that chased them through the boulders.

They weren’t attempting to conceal their movements, instead running freely between the stones. Luthor struggled to identify specific figures. He counted at least a half dozen giving chase, though the number was most certainly higher.

“We need to run, now,” he said, grabbing her hand once more and rushing into the woods.

“Where could we possibly go that they won’t catch us?” Mattie asked, her breathing labored as much from fear as from exertion.

Luthor didn’t reply, knowing he couldn’t offer a decent answer. He didn’t intend to run forever, just long enough to find a more neutral battleground.

“This is insanity,” Mattie cried, pulling her hand free of his. Luthor turned toward her as she began to strip away her clothing. “If I’m going to fight, I’m going to do it on my terms.”

She was pulling her shirt over her head as the first dark-robed figure crashed into her from behind. They both tumbled to the ground even as they separated. Mattie tossed her shirt aside as she began to stand.

The vampire was already on his feet. A dark cloak was tied at the neck and billowed out behind him. A hood had once covered his face but had since fallen aside, revealing his drawn and stretched skin. The vampire moved toward Mattie, even as she struggled to slip free of her pants and boots.

Luthor rushed forward and kicked the vampire in the back, sending it sprawling into the dirt. It quickly regained its feet and spun on the apothecary, who had few options but to hold up the dagger in his hands. The vampire looked at the meager weapon mockingly before hissing, spittle flying from its fangs. Before it could move, Mattie clamped her maw over its shoulder and bit down.

The vampire howled in pain and rage as Mattie shook it from side to side. Luthor could hear the wrenching of skin and bone as Mattie tore the vampire’s arm from its body. The creature fell to the ground and writhed in pain as Mattie tossed the arm aside.

They had no time to celebrate as a second vampire pounced on Mattie’s exposed back. It tried to sink its teeth into her neck but instead received a mouthful of white fur for its troubles. Mattie rolled to the side, but the vampire clutched to her fur, refusing to let go.

More dark-robed figures emerged from the woods, their attention alternating between the werewolf and the poorly armed apothecary. Luthor reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled free one of the few remaining glass vials. It was filled with water, its original contents having been spilled during the tossing of their rooms.

“Keep them occupied for a moment longer,” Luthor called out to Mattie, even as she struggled to dislodge the tenacious vampire locked tightly to her back.

She rolled over, crushing the vampire beneath her weight. For added measure, she rubbed her back against the dirt in a decidedly canine fashion. As she rolled aside, the vampire released its grip and lay unmoving on the ground.

A vampire charged her while another rushed in a blur toward Luthor. Mattie threw herself in the vampire’s way as it charged toward the apothecary. It crashed into her bulk, unable to maneuver aside before the collision. Her own pursuer, however, caught her in the ribs with a firm kick. Mattie yelped in pain and rolled aside. She climbed back to her feet, albeit far slower than Luthor would have liked.

He scrambled to draw a rune on the cork of the vial. His fingers shook far too much for the necessary accuracy as his attention was split between the rune, Mattie’s safety, and the remaining vampires who seemed intent on their immediate destruction.

Mattie rushed her vampire once more, but the monster stepped handily out of the way and sent her sprawling with nothing more than a firm shove. As Luthor looked up, a dark shape appeared before him. When the hood fell away, Luthor could see the sneer of his vampire adversary.

The vampire struck Luthor in the chest, and he spun end over end through the air before striking a tree. The vial in his hand shattered in his grip, piercing his palm. His shoulder was alive with pain and his hip ached. He tried standing, but the hip wouldn’t support his weight and he fell back to the mossy ground.

Behind his attacker, Luthor could see another pair of vampires descending on Mattie. While the bite to her neck had been unsuccessful, he knew it wouldn’t take them long to find somewhere less protected, like her belly or a leg.

His hand shaking, he reached up and pulled the long shard of glass from his palm. Blood oozed from the wound. Even in the darkness, he could see the vampires pause as the scent of his blood filled the air. Their eyes burned red with lust and hunger and even those that were focused moments before on Mattie were now staring intently at the apothecary.

Luthor looked at his palm as blood dripped onto the ground. He raised his palm in the air, turning it so that it was clearly visible to all the monsters filling the woods around them. His other hand slipped into his jacket pocket and closed around a second vial.

The vampires stalked slowly toward him, their frenzy barely restrained as they stared at the blood now running down his arm.

“Is this what you want?” Luthor cried out, stretching his hand over his head. “Is this what you’ve come for? I may not be much of a meal, hardly more than an appetizer, truthfully, but I can satisfy at least one of your hungers. Come and get me.”

His hand moved furiously in his jacket as he sketched a rune atop of the vial. The vampires moved closer, jostling one another for position as they sought to be the first to reach the bleeding human. They licked their lips as their glowing red eyes bounced in the darkness.

“There you are,” Luthor said. His gaze fell to Mattie, who was forcing herself up on all fours. His eyes pleaded for her to stay back as he hurried to finish the rune. “Come closer. You won’t be able to get any blood standing all the way back there. You’d hate to be the last person to the dinner table, wouldn’t you?”

They were nearly on top of him, their dark robes only deepening the shadows around him until it felt like an endless abyss was swallowing him. He could barely see their features any longer; the darkness was virtually impenetrable.