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

by Jon Messenger

“Keep them here,” Tom replied, his answer no less venomous. “When the chancellor awakes, he can decide their fate. Keep guards posted outside the door. The three of them are crafty. I don’t want any of them escaping before the sun sets.”

  Without another word, they slammed the door shut, casting the trio into near darkness. Footsteps could be heard outside the room as a few guards shifted into position.

  Luthor spat out the rag, which had only been stuffed into his mouth rather than tied in place. Extending his tongue, he scraped it across his upper teeth in an attempt to wipe free the awful taste that now filled his mouth. He spat onto the wood floor in disgust.

  “Are you all right?” Mattie asked. She shifted closer to Luthor to see him in the dim light.

  Luthor arched his eyebrows as he realized there was light to be seen from within the close confines of their room. The slats that formed the outer wall were warped from exposure to the elements. He could feel the humid breeze seeping from between the boards and could see rays of sunlight filtering through, albeit blurrily without his wire-framed glasses.

  “I’m fine,” Luthor replied, “though I’m far more concerned about Simon’s well-being.”

  Though he was still shrouded in darkness, they could see the Inquisitor’s swollen cheek. Though Gregory’s makeshift club had been more than enough to render Simon unconscious, the other townsfolk had gleefully joined in assaulting his prostrate form.

  Luthor felt the sweat drip down his back, though he doubted it was solely from the humidity in the stifling room. He pulled against the bindings on his wrists, but the rope held firmly.

  As he strained, the sound of a train’s whistle split the air. The ear-piercing howl blasted for nearly a minute before falling silent.

  “The train is arriving,” Mattie said matter-of-factly. “We need to ensure we’re on board when it departs.”

  “I couldn’t agree more, but I don’t think our captors would be so accommodating.”

  Mattie glanced toward the narrow beams of light between the loose boards. “How long do you suppose it will remain at the station?”

  Luthor shrugged. He squinted toward the beams as well, but the view was blurry without his spectacles. “I suppose as long as it takes to unload their passengers and baggage. I don’t think they were in the station longer than a half hour at most when we arrived, and I feel that we would have had more passengers, seeing as how Simon handily shot and killed the false vampire on board.”

  Mattie frowned. “That doesn’t leave us much time to escape, overpower our guards, and board the train.”

  “Not to mention the need to defend the train from what will most certainly be invaders, who will more than likely assault the engineer first and foremost, thereby disabling the train. I don’t know that it’s possible.”

  “It is possible, if we act now. We need to check on Simon, and we need to escape.” Mattie glanced first toward the door before letting her gaze fall to Simon, ensuring the Inquisitor was still asleep. “Do that thing that you do and set us free.”

  “That thing that I do?”

  “Now is not the time for you to feign ignorance. Magic us free.”

  Luthor glanced nervously toward his mentor and shook his head. “I can’t take that chance, not with Simon in the room and guards posted just outside.”

  “Damn them and damn you, too, Luthor, if you won’t save yourself,” Mattie replied angrily. “Who cares if Simon discovers your secret, if it’s being used to save us all. If Simon can’t see the benefit of having a wizard in his entourage, then he’s a blasted fool as well.”

  “What if I were to use my magic? Then what shall we do afterward? Shall we kill everyone in the town on our way to freedom?”

  “Yes, if it be necessary,” Mattie replied, exasperated. “They certainly didn’t harbor any reservations about killing us.”

  “They didn’t kill us.”

  Mattie frowned deeper. “You sounded an awful lot like Simon, just now, arguing semantics as though this were a science experiment for which the outcome is somehow a mystery. They’re vampires, Luthor. There’s only one outcome, and I certainly don’t have to wait until nightfall to find out what it is.”

  Mattie huffed and pulled on the ropes tied around her wrists. With a violent tear, the rope snapped neatly in half. She brought her hands before her, showing the white werewolf fur coating her arms and ending in padded and clawed hands.

  “You may have reservations, Luthor, but I most certainly do not. If they think they know the monsters in their town, they’re about to be thoroughly surprised.”

  She crouched beside Simon as the fur sloughed from her arms, revealing the pink flesh beneath. She touched his cheek gingerly, probing the swollen skin and searching for broken bones beneath. Her hand traced toward the back of his skull until she felt the matted blood from where Gregory had struck the Inquisitor. Though she desperately wished him awake, she didn’t envy the headache that would accompany his waking.

  Satisfied that there was no permanent damage done, Mattie stood. With a discontented sigh, Luthor began tracing a hex onto the floor behind him, one that would easily free him from the ropes.

  As Mattie stepped toward the door, the floor beneath her feet creaked loudly from her weight. Luthor froze as he glanced nervously toward the door, though Mattie didn’t slow her stride at all.

  They could hear the guards shuffling outside as they talked in hushed whispers. The handle groaned as it turned and the door was flung open.

  Luthor squinted against the invasion of light. There were more guards beyond the door than what he had originally presumed, all of whom were armed.

  Mattie lunged toward the nearest guard, bearing him to the ground. She growled gutturally as the transformation began to overtake her. Driving her elbow into the prone townsperson’s face, she scratched at her chest with her free hand, drawing bloody streaks across her skin. Her eyes locked on a guard against the far wall, and she coiled her legs underneath her to lunge.

  Before she could leap, however, the butt of a rifle was driven into the side of her head. Mattie rolled to the side, turning a painful strike into a mere glancing blow. She could feel the blood seeping from her temple, and her thoughts grew cloudy as she tried to concentrate on her attackers.

  Within the room, Luthor stole a glance once again toward Simon before beginning his rune anew. Though it wouldn’t take long to create the spell, he knew the battle beyond the broom closet would be over in a matter of seconds, for good or for bad.

  Mattie rose to meet one of the guards, who approached her wielding an axe handle like a club. She caught his wrist as he swung at her and drove her fist painfully into his gut. The guard doubled over in pain, allowing her to drive her knee into his face. Though she had yet to transform, her strength was still impressively greater than a normal human, regardless of the form she took.

  Mattie cringed as she was struck from behind. The club landed across her shoulder blades, driving the wind from her lungs. She swung blindly behind her as she stumbled away, but her efforts were met with another strike, this time across her outstretched arm. Before she could recover, the butt of a rifle was driven into her stomach. As she bent forward, the club was brought down across her back once more.

  The fight left her even as she collapsed onto the hardwood floor. Though not unconscious, her body burned with agony, a pain that radiated down her spine and settled firmly in her lower back.

  Rough hands grasped her beneath her armpits and lifted her upper body from the floor. With her legs trailing behind her, they dragged her back into the broom closet.

  Luthor paused once more, his rune nearly completed. One of the guards knelt before him and scowled.

  “You want to try to escape, too?” the man growled.

  Luthor quickly shook his head. “No, I’m quite fine where I am.”

  The guard smiled humorlessly. As the man stood, he drove his heel down onto Luthor’s discarded glasses. The lenses shattered as the frames bent.r />
  Luthor groaned inwardly. “That was entirely unnecessary.”

  They ignored the apothecary as they bound Mattie once more. Her hands were tied behind her again, as were her feet. A cord was run between her bound limbs and pulled tightly until her hands and feet nearly touched one another. In her wounded state, she moaned loudly, but her struggles were weak.

  Without another word of warning, the guards stood and exited the room, slamming the door shut behind them.

  Luthor slid to Mattie’s side. He traced the rune behind him, and the ropes untangled of their own volition. They fell to the ground behind him as he brought his arms to Mattie’s side.

  “Hold on, Mattie,” he whispered. “I’ll have you untied in a moment.”

  “Leave me be,” she said hoarsely. She turned her face toward him, her disdain evident. “You’re a coward, Luthor Strong. You have every opportunity to be a hero the likes of which this kingdom has never seen, and instead, you cower for fear of being discovered.”

  She turned her head away from him, though her final words carried easily through the room. “Leave me bound. I’d rather take my chances with the vampires than be beholden to further conversation with you.”

  Stunned, Luthor stopped, his hands hovering above the bound redhead. Her words stung far worse than anything he had experienced before. While his physical injuries would heal in time, he had no spell to repair his emotional wounds.

  Slowly, he slid back to his place against the far wall. He absently drew a rune in the air, and the shattered glass of his lenses fused together once more. The metal frames of his spectacles bent into the general facsimile of an oval and the lenses rolled as though sentient back into their place. Luthor picked up the glasses and placed them back on his nose before wrapping his arms protectively around his knees.

  The train’s whistle seemed distant as it sounded a second time. A hiss of steam followed as the train began moving away from the Whitten Hall platform. Luthor hung his head even as he imagined the mine’s foreman welcoming the new employees, though Luthor knew he was truthfully welcoming them to a hasty demise.

  The train had left as quickly as it had come, on its way back to Callifax. It would be eight days until it returned, though Luthor knew that eight days was far too long to survive in such an inhospitable land. Mattie had been correct that their fates were sealed. Unfortunately, with both Mattie and Simon injured, it would have been impossible for Luthor to escape while carrying them both in tow. He would have been captured almost immediately. Likewise, escaping alone while leaving the Inquisitor and werewolf to their fates was never an option. His chance came with Mattie and he hesitated, choosing to protect his secret rather than protect his friends. Perhaps she had been correct. Perhaps he had spent so long protecting the fact that he was a wizard, infected by magic in a land where magic was an abomination, that he had grown weak. Indecision had stolen his power and hesitation his pride. Luthor hung his head in shame as he wallowed in his self-pity.

  The lines of sunlight on the ground lengthened as the sun began to set. They crept toward Luthor accusingly, as though each inch crept forward was another reminder of their impending doom.

  Mattie had still offered not a single word of solace to Luthor since her recapture, nor had Simon awoken from his earlier beating. Though Mattie had ensured him that Simon was not seriously injured, Luthor was beginning to have his doubts. He considered casting a spell to heal Simon, but he didn’t see the point. Simon’s tactical wisdom was unsurpassed, but there was little chance of escape from their current confines, at least not in time to escape the vampires once they’d fully awoken.

  He sighed as he glanced toward the redhead. “I’m sorry, Mattie. I should have trusted you and followed your lead.”

  She didn’t offer a reply and kept her back to him.

  “The sun’s setting,” he added. “Chancellor Whitten and his ilk will be here soon afterward.”

  He felt foolish for merely stating the obvious, but he was struggling to find a conversation piece that seemed worthy of his obvious betrayal of her trust. As he anticipated, she offered no reply, not so much as a shrug of her shoulders to acknowledge that he had even spoken.

  The light beyond the far wall slowly faded into oblivion, casting the broom closet into inky darkness. Simon didn’t stir to wakefulness, nor did Mattie offer much in the way of conversation. The silence in the room only added to the air of anticipation.

  Shortly after the sun set, a myriad of footsteps were heard in the hallway beyond the closet door. Luthor set his jaw as he quickly sketched a rune down the length of the unwound rope. As quickly as it had fallen away, the rope wound around his wrists, albeit significantly looser than it had been when originally tied. He knew he could slip free from the knots if needed, though he had no idea where he would go once free.

  The door opened, spilling light into their room. Luthor fought the instinct to raise his hands to his eyes, to block the glaring electric light. Instead, he sat in the room, trying not to look too defiant as Chancellor Whitten stepped inside.

  Even before he spoke, Luthor could tell the chancellor’s demeanor was significantly different than the cordial man they had met earlier in their visit. Gone was the faint hunch in his shoulders. Likewise, the soft expression of his face was hardened with a combination of power and confidence. As he noticed Luthor’s intensive stare, Martelus smiled, exposing the elongated vampiric fangs.

  “Mister Strong,” the chancellor said as he knelt beside the seated apothecary. “It’s good to see you again, though, if I were to be completely honest, I would have hoped you would have been aboard the train and long gone from Whitten Hall by now.”

  “It’s never too late for us to leave,” Luthor offered.

  “On the contrary, I believe we’re well past that point now, don’t you?”

  Martelus glanced toward Simon’s unconscious form and shook his head wistfully. “That’s such a shame, you know? I had truly hoped that Royal Inquisitor Whitlock would be awake by the time I arrived. My men are eager to please me, as I’m sure you can imagine. They get overzealous sometimes. I’ll certainly have to reprimand them later.”

  Luthor spat on the ground, his spittle striking the edge of the chancellor’s polished shoe. “They’re eager to please you because they’re fools. They think you’ll turn them into one of you, a vampire.”

  Martelus arched an eyebrow as he glanced back to the apothecary. Luthor mistook his expression for one of surprise as he continued.

  “We know what you are and what you’ve done here. You’re going to suffer for killing all those people.”

  The chancellor smiled, exposing his long canines in a more threatening manner. “I’ve already suffered far more than you could imagine, and I’m sure one day I’ll be brought to bear for the crimes I’ve committed. That time, however, isn’t now, and you are most certainly not the one who will judge me.”

  Martelus pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped the spittle from his shoe. “You and your friends had your chance to leave Whitten Hall well enough alone, yet you chose to pry. Sadly, those poor decisions are the exact reason none of you will leave here alive.”

  Luthor looked quickly to Mattie, but the redhead hadn’t moved. He wasn’t sure if she was feigning sleep or still harboring her resentment toward him, but in either instance, Luthor decided not to address her until well after Martelus had departed.

  The chancellor stood and turned toward his entourage. “Bring the Inquisitor with us. I believe he’ll make an exceptional meal for the Original. Let his blood be a source for more of the tribe.”

  A vampire behind him gestured toward Luthor. “What of the other two, sir?”

  Martelus glanced over his shoulder and smiled maliciously. “Leave them both. We’ll dine on them ourselves.”

  Vampires stepped into the room and grasped the limp Inquisitor. Luthor kicked toward them, but he received a vicious backhand to his cheek for his efforts. Within seconds, the vampires had
pulled Simon away and the door slammed shut on them once more.

  The vampires carried Simon between them. The disease in their blood carried them far quicker than a normal human could move and within moments, they arrived at the perimeter of the mining quarry. Led by Martelus, they stepped over the edge of the cliff and fluttered effortlessly to the rocky pit floor.

  Simon was dropped awkwardly into a mining cart. The vampires didn’t bother with a tarp to conceal his frame as they pushed him into the consuming darkness of the mineshaft.

  Through twists and turns, the chancellor led his night tribe unerringly deeper into the mine. Eventually, the cart struck the barrier built at the end of the laid tracks. Beyond the cart, the door into the underground barracks was thrown wide. At the late hour, the barracks were once again empty, aside from the vampires who now entered their halls, dragging the sluggish Inquisitor between them.

  Simon felt his feet bumping along the stone floor as awareness crept back into the edges of his mind. His first thought was one of pain and anguish. His mind reeled from sparks of agony radiating from the back of his head and from his battered face.

  He tried to force his eyes open, but only one responded. His left eye slid open slightly. For the briefest of moments, he feared he had gone blind during his assault. As panic threatened to overwhelm his thoughts, he forced the emotion into the background and focused his other senses.

  His dress shoes rattled on the slightly uneven stone floor. The humidity was lessened but still omnipresent. Voices echoed off nearby walls as his kidnappers talked amongst themselves.

  He knew he was in the mines. It wasn’t blindness that had overcome him, but rather an impenetrable darkness. Simon tried to regain his composure, but firm hands held his arms out to each side as he was dragged along. The vampires had him captive, of that he was sure. They had little need to use lights within the mines. Though he wasn’t nearly as keen on mythology as Luthor, he was certain seeing in the darkness was one of their supernatural abilities.

  “He’s coming to,” one of the vampires said to an unseen leader, though Simon had little doubt who they addressed.