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

by Jon Messenger

  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 momen
t 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.

  “I have nothing but respect for you, Matilda, but in this instance, your modesty be damned. Change out of that outrageous shape this instant and get inside before you get us all killed.”

  With a frustrated sigh, the white fur melted from her body, revealing the nubile flesh beneath. Luthor and Simon turned aside as Mattie fumbled with only a tunic and jerkin with which to cover her exposed body. She eventually slipped the jerkin over her naked chest and tied the tunic as well as possible around her waist, hoping the thin fabric left something to the imagination.

  Luthor climbed into the hole with little provocation, followed closely by Mattie. The space was far smaller than Luthor had led himself to believe, and the sense of claustrophobia settled over him immediately. As Mattie joined him, he knew that there would be no escaping their bodies being pressed together. He was glad for the darkness as Mattie draped her bare legs over his as they struggled for space within their hiding spot.

  Simon increased the level of discomfort tenfold as he pressed into the root system. The shadow of the tree fell over them all, concealing them from view.

  Simon leaned toward them, though the action was unnecessary in such close quarters. “We’ll stay here until dawn. Do your best to get some sleep between now and then.”

  Luthor could barely see the river beyond the exit of their newest prison. On both sides of the river, vampires would be searching for them until the first rays of sunrise crested the trees nearby. Moreover, he would be spending the next few hours pressed tightly into the root system of a dying tree. Despite Simon’s warning, the apothecary seriously doubted sleep would come tonight.

  Luthor awoke the next morning with incredible pain radiating from his neck to his coccyx. He tried to stretch, but found himself still confined beneath the overhanging roots. Simon stirred near the entrance, but he didn’t awaken enough to leave the protective cover. Mattie, who normally awoke far earlier than Luthor, had her head pressed against the soil between the thick roots, her red hair flattened on one side from where she slept.

  The apothecary cleared his throat as politely as possible, but to no avail. The others slept soundly, the events from the night before clearly draining them both. Luthor wiggled free an arm from where it had been trapped against his side and gently shook Simon, careful not to inadvertently strike Mattie in the process. His effort gained him nothing, as Simon merely shifted his position to be further out of Luthor’s reach.

  Aggravated, Luthor pushed Simon firmly in the back, knocking him from the basket-like root system. He splayed across the ground, his arms not moving quickly enough to keep his face from smearing into the mud on the river’s bank.

  Mattie awoke with a start, temporarily disoriented as she looked around. As her gaze fell to Luthor, he gestured toward the cramped quarter’s exit, to where Simon was only just prying himself free of the tacky mud.

  They all exited and stood by the river, each stretching in their own way to release the tension of combat and awkward sleeping positions.

  “The sun has risen,” Luthor stated matter-of-factly. “We survived the vampire scourge for another day.”

  Simon nodded as he stifled a yawn. “Indeed we did, though I have no doubt they’ll double their efforts tomorrow night. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if their human cohorts were combing these woods even now, searching for us.”

  Mattie knelt by the river and dipped her hands in the cool water. She splashed it on her face and attempted to run her wet hands through the mats of her hair, but her curly, red hair refused to release to something as paltry as river water.

  “If they’re hunting us, we should be ready for them when they arrive,” Mattie said.

  Simon shook his head. “Fighting the humans will accomplish nothing of value and will only tire us further. What we need to do is something they would never expect.”

  �
�Such as?” Luthor asked.

  “We return to Whitten Hall.”

  Luthor nodded, but his expression showed a significant lack of acceptance. “Have you taken a leave of your senses? Did Tom Wriggleton’s beating leave your brain slightly rattled? Returning to Whitten Hall is like walking into the snake’s den, then somehow being surprised when you get bit.”

  Simon arched an eyebrow. “Was that a euphemism of some sort?”

  “It was intended more as an allegory, at best. I thought the snakes having two fangs would be reminiscent of the vampires also having a pair of fangs. Was that not clear?”

  “My apologies,” Simon replied. “I’m absolute rubbish at metaphors and the like.”

  “Which brings us full circle back to the issue at hand,” Mattie said as she stood again. Her attire was still rather subpar, without proper pants of which to speak. “Metaphors aside, returning to Whitten Hall is a dangerous proposition.”

  “It would be, Miss Hawke, if it were full of humans colluding with vampires.”

  Mattie turned to Luthor. “Is it not? Did I miss a part of the conversation?”

  Luthor smiled. “It normally would be, except Simon already told us it won’t. The humans will be out in the woods searching for us.”

  “Of course, they’ll be looking for us exactly where we should be but aren’t, and we’ll instead be exactly where they should be but aren’t, simply because they’re busy looking for us. It makes for a very complicated discussion but a brilliantly simple solution. We’ll return to Whitten Hall, retrieve our belongings, and make our way out of the outpost before anyone is the wiser.”

  They stood, nodding to one another, each slowly realizing that no one in their group would ever be mistaken for morning people.

  “Shall we be off then?” Luthor finally asked, breaking the silence.

  They nodded once more before turning in the direction of Whitten Hall.

  They forded the river a little upstream from the covered bridge, but far enough away that passersby couldn’t see them. The water was bitterly cold but refreshing; none of the trio complained as it washed away the grime that had accumulated from their previous day’s misadventures. Simon paused midstream and lowered his face to the water, washing away the mud that was caked across the side of his face. He seemed oblivious to the water that soaked the front of his suit in the process.