As the others stared at the pile of corpses in disbelief, Simon crouched before the pile. He reached forward and pressed closed the eyes of the nearest body. He knew the gesture meant little to the corpse and, truth be told, it was not even done with reverence to the deceased. The dead woman’s eyes stared at him piercingly, making him feel dreadfully uncomfortable.
As he removed his hand, the woman’s head lolled to one side. Simon paused and raised the lantern so that its light could better spill across the woman’s face. Though discreet, there were noticeable paralleled puncture wounds on the woman’s long neck.
Simon stepped back brusquely from the corpse. He spun toward Luthor and Mattie, the lantern light flickering wildly as he turned.
“Sir?” Luthor asked, startled.
“Gather your things at once,” Simon replied, his eyes darting around the room. “Things are not what they appear.”
Simon turned the lantern from side to side in an attempt to push back the impenetrable darkness surrounding them. As the candlelight flickered within the hooded lantern, the shadows took on a life of their own, seeming to push against the meager illumination.
As Luthor pulled his doctor’s bag closer to his chest, he backed away from the pile of emaciated bodies. Beside him, Mattie snarled. As the light played over her features, her eyes appeared glassy and yellowed as the first stages of her transformation overtook her.
Simon clenched his revolver in his hand as he scanned the room once more. He wasn’t sure that he truly expected a sudden attack, but he couldn’t escape the feeling that they were being watched. It was the same feeling that had haunted their steps ever since discovering the underground barracks. He recollected their steps, from the top of the mine pit to the entrance, through the heavy wooden door, and through the barracks. They had followed their intuition, but had their movements actually been prescribed? He wasn’t so sure that he hadn’t led his team directly into a trap.
As Simon painted the room with his lantern once more, a shadow detached itself from the darkness and wrapped its arms around Luthor, one hand grasping him firmly around the waist and another over his mouth. The apothecary tried to scream, but the sound was muffled. Before Simon could react, the figure pulled Luthor backward and they both disappeared once more into the darkness.
Mattie dropped her tunic to the floor as her upper body bristled and split as she transformed into the werewolf. Simon rushed forward, but a second figure stepped into his path.
The man before him wore the workman’s clothes they had seen on the men pushing the rail carts into the mine, but little else resembled a man. The miner’s skin was sallow and his cheeks sunken. The irises of his eyes smoldered inhumanly red in the candlelight. As the man opened his mouth, he revealed two elongated canines that Simon thoroughly doubted were veneers.
The Inquisitor pushed forward, knowing that Luthor’s life was most certainly in grave danger. As he put his shoulder into the worker, instead of pushing through, he instead rebounded backward. He looked up, startled, as the miner grabbed him by his lapel and tossed him handily backward with a strength that belied his thin appearance.
Simon landed heavily amidst the pile of corpses. Dried elbows and knees dug into his back, sending a quick wave of pain up his spine. He cringed and arched his back as he rolled his head to the side. His pain was immediately forgotten as he stared into the dead eyes of the nearest cadaver. Simon quickly turned his head forward and kept his eyes locked on the miner, rather than once again catching the unseeing gaze of the bodies enveloping him.
The vampire hissed once more, revealing his dingy fangs. The miner looked wasted and hollow, as though it had been far too long since his last meal. Simon’s hand instinctively fell to his throat, concealing his jugular from view. Undeterred, the vampire stepped toward him, kicking aside the litany of broken tools that littered his path.
Simon started to stand, but his hands struggled to find purchase amidst the husks on which he lay. As his hand closed over an unidentifiable body part, he realized for the first time that his revolver was no longer in his grasp. Panicked, he quickly glanced around the room. The hooded lantern, as he was well aware, had fallen from his grip when he was thrown and lay on the ground some feet away. Only a foot from the lantern, the silver revolver sparkled in the dim candlelight. Swearing softly to himself, he tried to stand once more as the vampire advanced on him.
The miner smiled maliciously as he neared and reached out a hand, each finger on which was stained with dirt and what Simon had to believe was blood. Reaching down, Simon’s hand closed over what felt like wood. As he pulled the makeshift weapon free from the pile on which he lay, the Inquisitor realized it wasn’t wood but bleached bone. Cringing, he held the broken femur before him, hoping it would be enough to deter the beast.
Before the weapon could be brought to bear, however, a howl pierced the air. The vampire was knocked aside in a flurry of teeth, claws, and fur. Simon could hear the vampire’s flesh shred under Mattie’s brutal assault.
Thankful for the reprieve, Simon pushed away from the bloodless corpses and regained his feet. He glanced briefly at the ensuing battle between vampire and werewolf and was relieved that one of the two magical monstrosities fought with him, rather than against him.
He rushed to the lantern, setting it upright even as he grasped the grip of his pistol. Though he was unsure if Mattie could handle the vampire alone, he was far more concerned with Luthor, who had yet to emerge from the darkness. Simon turned the lantern quickly, scanning the room. He could hear a scuffle in the darkness still beyond the range of his lantern and hurried toward the sound.
As he approached, an ethereal white pattern emerged in the darkness ahead. Its glow was faint, offering little illumination for the surroundings.
“Luthor!” Simon yelled, caution be damned.
A figure emerged at the edge of the lantern light, rushing toward the Inquisitor. Simon raised his pistol, ready to fire. His finger froze in the trigger well as he recognized the diminutive man rushing toward him.
“Luthor, thank God.”
Luthor slammed into Simon, wrapping his arms around the Inquisitor’s waist. Together, they tumbled to the floor, sending broken pick handles scattering in their wake. Only through great concentration did Simon keep the lantern aloft during his second graceless fall.
“What the devil—?” Simon began to complain.
His words were cut off as the ghostly white wisps in the air glowed with a blinding brilliance. With the extra light, Simon could see the startled second vampire, who merely stared transfixed as the object in the air reached its glowing pinnacle. Moments later, an explosion rocked the far end of the room, driving Simon back onto the ground even as he struggled to stand.
Slowly, he pushed Luthor off him and raised his head. The room was now partially lit, as wooden debris smoldered from the explosion. The vampire squirmed weakly on the floor as his shirt and pants burned merrily.
“What the bloody hell just happened?” Simon asked.
Luthor coughed and furrowed his brow. “My doctor’s bag was in that explosion.”
Simon glanced curiously at his companion. “What did you do?”
Luthor met his gaze and shrugged. “I made a bomb, though admittedly, I may have misjudged the correct portions of reagents in my mixture. The explosion would have ignited the rest of my vials, which caused the unnecessarily large explosion.”
Simon glanced back toward the still-moving vampire. “Perhaps it wasn’t large enough.”
Coming to his senses, Simon glanced behind him. Both Mattie and her adversary had paused following the explosion. They stood like statues still locked in mortal combat for a brief moment before the vampire returned its gaze to the massive white werewolf. The miner raised his foot and kicked Mattie in the chest, sending her sprawling across the floor. She whimpered as she landed roughly but had the clarity of mind to raise her paws defensively as the vampire pounced on her prone form.
Simon scr
ambled to his feet and raised his pistol. Though he knew he had the skill to shoot the vampire, even as the two creatures struggled together, he doubted his bullet would do much to the fanged monster. Instead, he examined the ground nearby until his eyes alighted on a broken wooden handle. He lifted the heavy shaft and rushed toward Mattie.
The vampire had pressed her on her back and snapped its jaws toward her exposed neck. Only her incredible strength kept the vampire at bay, though it crept closer with every surge of strength.
Simon stepped behind the distracted creature and raised the makeshift wooden stake over his head. Grasping it with both hands, he drove the weapon downward. The splintered wood pierced the vampire’s back, just to the left of its spine. The sharpened stake tore through the thin skin and shattered the ribs beneath. It passed unhindered through the creature’s heart before striking the monster’s sternum, where it finally came to rest.
The vampire’s struggling immediately ceased. A last gasp of surprise escaped the creature’s lips before it slumped limply over Mattie’s paws.
With little effort, Mattie was able to roll to her side, casting the remains of the vampire onto the ground.
Luthor breathed heavily as he reached the Inquisitor and werewolf. “It looks like a stake to the heart is still effective.”
Simon turned toward Luthor and raised his pistol. The apothecary’s eyes widened in surprise, and he raised his hands defensively before him. With his free hand, Simon pushed Luthor aside as he took aim at the burned vampire, who limped weakly toward the tunnel leading back to the barracks.
“Bullets won’t stop a vampire,” Luthor warned.
“I agree,” Simon replied, “except I’m not trying to kill it.”
Simon squeezed the trigger. The bullet struck the vampire in the back of his knee as he limped away. Even from a distance, the group heard the shatter of bone. The vampire howled in pain, a sound that reverberated through the wide chamber, before he fell to the ground.
“An excellent shot, sir,” Luthor remarked. The apothecary pulled his spectacles from his face and wiped the soot from the lenses. As he placed them back on his face, he turned toward his mentor. “Shall we question our captive?”
Simon raised the pistol and pointed it toward Luthor. The apothecary froze, his eyes darting from side to side.
“Is there another behind me?” he asked.
Simon remained unflinching, the end of his pistol pointing directly at Luthor’s forehead.
“Simon?” Mattie asked. She was half covered with the clothing she’d retrieved, having since transformed back to her human form. “What are you doing?”
“Show me your neck,” Simon demanded.
Luthor furrowed his brow. “My neck?” Realization dawned on his face as he stared at the Inquisitor. “You can’t be serious.”
Simon pulled back the hammer on his pistol. The cylinder on the revolver rotated, slotting a fresh round into the chamber.
Luthor swallowed hard, as he realized that nothing about Simon’s demeanor seemed to find humor in the situation.
“Show me your neck,” Simon repeated. “I won’t ask you again.”
Luthor angrily grasped his collar and pulled it aside. He turned his head first left, and then right, showing his unmarred skin. Satisfied, Simon released the hammer on the pistol and lowered the weapon.
“Forgive me, Luthor, but I had to be certain.”
Luthor released his collar in a huff. “You could have taken me at my word.”
Simon holstered his pistol as he searched the ground at his feet. “You’ve known me for over a year now. When have you ever known me to take someone merely at their word?”
Luthor crossed his arms across his chest. “Had I been bitten, even if I hadn’t turned, you genuinely would have shot me, wouldn’t you?”
Simon glanced up from his search momentarily. “Without hesitation. I’m very glad to know I didn’t need to.”
Mattie cleared her throat. “Excuse me, gentlemen, but our captive seems to be escaping.”
They followed her gaze across the room. Simon turned the lantern so the light fell directly on the vampire, since neither he nor Luthor were blessed with Mattie’s low light vision. The vampire had, indeed, crawled some feet from where he had originally fallen. His shattered leg didn’t bleed as would have a normal man, yet the disturbed debris clearly showed the path he had taken.
The Inquisitor glanced back down at his feet and located yet another wooden shaft from a pickaxe. He retrieved the weapon before advancing on the prostrate vampire.
The monster heard Simon’s approach and rolled onto his back. He hissed, again revealing the elongated canines.
“Do your worst, Inquisitor,” the vampire said angrily. “I will tell you nothing.”
Simon stopped beside the prone abomination. “You misunderstand. This isn’t an interrogation.”
The vampire closed its mouth and furrowed its brow in confusion. “Then what—?”
Simon dropped to a knee and slammed the wooden stake into the vampire’s chest. The monster was caught unaware, so much so that it didn’t offer so much as a scream of surprise. Its mouth fell open for a moment as it stared at the pickaxe handle before its body went limp. The vampire’s head rolled backward, striking the cavern floor.
Luthor and Mattie shared an unbelieving expression as well.
“You killed him,” Luthor said. “He could have provided insight as to what they were doing in Whitten Hall.”
Simon stood, leaving the stake in place. As he turned toward his companions, they saw his stern expression. “I know the mythology of vampires, perhaps not as well as Luthor, admittedly, but well enough. Not a one amongst us could confidently state that a single scratch from a vampire’s fangs wouldn’t infect us with their disease. Interrogating a creature such as this could only end badly for everyone involved.”
“Where did they come from?” Luthor asked sullenly.
Simon glanced toward the far end of the room, which they had yet to explore. “Our answers lie ahead. Of that, I feel certain.”
He glanced at the body at his feet. “First, however, we must hide these bodies. If others arrive, they can’t know that we’ve been here.”
Luthor looked toward the scorch marks across the wide room.
“Burn marks are unusual but explainable,” Simon said. “Corpses, especially those with wooden stakes driven through their heart, leave no possible alternative explanation.”
“Where shall we hide them?” Mattie asked.
Simon glanced hesitantly toward the pile of corpses. He hated that he couldn’t think of a better alternative.
When the vampire bodies were successfully concealed beneath the remains of former townsfolk, Simon hefted the hooded lantern and faced the unexplored far end of the chamber. Despite knowing its ineffectiveness against vampires, Simon drew his revolver once more. Its weight offered him comfort.
They moved forward, the light from the lantern pushing back the darkness ahead of them. Near the end of the chamber, the tunnel narrowed considerably, as though returning to the exploratory tunnel that they had walked through following the barracks.
Immediately after entering the tunnel, the chiseled rock of the walls transformed to exquisitely carved white limestone. Simon paused and placed his hand on the wall. It was roughly worked, with the tool marks still marring its surface. Despite the coarse work, the images were far smoother than would have been possible using the tools they had discovered in the previous room. As he withdrew his hand, Simon noticed a thick layer of dust.
He gazed down the tunnel to where his light diffused. The smooth walls gave way to etched walls and ceiling. Simon walked forward cautiously, despite not seeing any side passages that would have held ambushers. The carvings on the wall caught his eye, and he paused to examine them further. Humanoid figures stood in stoic poses against a backdrop of landscapes unfamiliar to Simon. Mountain ranges that didn’t exist anywhere in their kingdom stood like dragon’s te
eth behind monstrous champions in the foreground. Simon touched the face of the carved hero, exploring the expressive snout on the bipedal creature. He didn’t have a name for the abomination in the image, though it appeared demonic in nature.
He stepped away from the wall and examined the curved ceiling above him, towering like a cathedral’s roof. The sculptured walls and vaulted ceiling seemed so out of place compared to the rest of the mine. Everything appeared alien, to include the whiteness of the walls compared to the dull gray of the previous mine shafts.
Beyond the carvings of demonic creatures, the images gave way to hieroglyphics. Simon knelt and examined the writing, despite it being written in a dialect with which he was unfamiliar. Though he knew not what was written, the words repeated along the wall. The same four pictographs repeated over and over again along the wall, reaching as high as the vaulted ceiling far above.
“What is this place?” Luthor whispered.
Simon shook his head. “I don’t know, but this passage seems older than Whitten Hall, possibly even predating the mine itself. It’s… fascinating.”
Luthor didn’t seem to share Simon’s enthusiasm.
Glancing away from the wall, Simon noticed a glow piercing the inky blackness ahead. He lowered the hood on the lantern, casting them in darkness. To his surprise, the gloom wasn’t impenetrable. He could see light leaking from around a doorframe far ahead. He uncovered the light, and the clarity of the doorframe’s edge disappeared once more.
They pushed forward until they stood before a white stone door. Archaic braziers, clearly having not been lit in hundreds of years or more, sat on either side of the door. Despite its apparent age, the metal was surprisingly clear of rust. Simon realized that little of the oppressive humidity reached this far into the mineshaft, leaving the old metal unscathed by the passing years.
The Blood Thief of Whitten Hall (A Magic & Machinery Novel Book 2) Page 19