The smile faded from his face as he slid his legs over the branch and dropped gracefully to the ground below. Slinging the satchel across his back, he set off hastily toward the far side of Whitten Hall and his cavern amidst the base of the hills.
He skirted far beyond the borders of the outpost, knowing that he was in no condition to face the human hunters. His path took him toward the boulder-ridden valley to the west of the town and, so he still hoped, the safe concealment of the cavern at the base of the largest hill in the region. The hill had served him well as an overlook, from the top of which he could see the train tracks for miles in either direction. He would hopefully see Luthor’s return well in advance of the vampires and humans within Whitten Hall.
He came upon a narrow animal trail winding through the woods. Hoof marks were dried in the hardened earth, leading in both directions. The trees had overgrown the trail, their drooping branches forming a shallow tunnel through which Simon passed. Thinner, spindly trees sprouted from the soil nearby, their sturdy yet flexible trunks easily brushed aside as he moved between them.
After nearly an hour of walking, the animal trail disappeared into a pair of domineering bushes pushing over the trail from either side. Simon forced them apart and was surprised by the brilliance of the sun on the far side.
The thick forest gave way to barren ground, spotted with large rocks protruding from the brown soil. The trees had been left behind, save for a few scraggly examples clinging to the patches of dirt between the rocky terrain. Without the trees for shelter, the sun shone brilliantly, illuminating the valley below.
Simon hadn’t passed this way before, and was surprised to find a ravine carving its way along the side of the animal trail. From his vantage point, he could look down the chasm to the shallow river gurgling nearly twenty feet below. Though the ravine wasn’t wide, no more than ten feet across, it stretched a good distance in either direction, farther than Simon could ascertain from where he stood.
Across the ravine, the land dropped away into the heart of the valley. Though he was sure he could jump the chasm with a running start, he strongly doubted his footing upon his landing on the other side. More likely than not, he’d find himself tumbling across loose gravel before collapsing gracelessly into a boulder or two.
Glancing behind, his gaze fell to the nearly impenetrable wall of the woods. He could see only a few feet within its dense border. For a moment, nervousness clutched him before he forced himself to relax. He needn’t worry about pursuit, he reminded himself. The townsfolk of Whitten Hall were stretched far throughout the forest, searching both for Simon and for his companions. Even had they had their full complement of people living within the town, they’d still barely have enough to cover the varied terrain surrounding the outpost. As it were, with so many of their people sacrificed to the growing hungers of the vampires, there were far too many gaps through which Simon could pass unobstructed.
Simon paused and smiled to himself. The fact that they searched not just for Simon but for Luthor and Mattie as well brought Simon great joy, knowing that they hadn’t already been captured. There was still hope that they would reach Callifax and return with help.
The Inquisitor blinked and stifled a yawn as he peered across the sunlit valley below. The scenery was spectacular, and he wanted nothing more than to sit upon the rocks beneath him and watch the sun continue its steady climb to its zenith far above his head. Sadly, the reminder of his exhaustion and danger ahead stole the pleasure from the moment. He stretched his arms far overhead and arched his back as a yawn came on once more.
Begrudgingly, he turned away from the valley and walked toward the hilltop, easily visible above the scrub brush clinging to life in the harsh ground.
To Simon’s trained eyes, the cavern’s entrance was easy to find, despite the large rock that concealed the way inside. Pushing the rock aside, the cool air spilled from the cave’s narrow maw. He slid the burlap satchel inside, setting it beside his other belongings, before turning toward the steep hill nearby.
A small voice in the back of his mind reminded him that he could take care of this task at a later date, but Simon knew it was important. He walked to the base of the hill and sought out the familiar hand and foot holds that he could use to climb to the crest of the hill.
With weary hands, Simon pulled himself onto the flattened top of the hill and lay upon the cool stones, refusing even to sit properly. His sharpened stone was still resting on the rocks nearby. Forcing himself to a seated position, he took the rock with one hand while he traced the white vertical line he scratched into the gray stone the day before. With the rock in hand, he gouged a second line beside the first.
Replacing the rock, he raised his hand over his eyes and peered across the valley toward the railroad tracks beyond. Everything was painfully quiet; there was no indication that a train had ever passed along those tracks, save for the good working order of the rails themselves.
Simon touched the two parallel lines in the stone and mentally counted another day from his tally. Five to go, he reminded himself.
Simon climbed back down the hill using the trees and rocks for support, and sauntered back to the cavern. Slipping inside legs first, the Inquisitor slid far enough into the cool interior that he could roll the rock back into place. He was eternally glad for the rounded edges of the stone, allowing it to be rolled into place rather than lifted. Within the close confines of the cave, he had little leverage with which to lift the heavy rock.
As the capstone slid into place, the cave was bathed in cool darkness. Simon closed his eyes and soon thereafter fell asleep.
The sun was still in the sky when Simon awoke, though it had clearly begun its downward swing to the west. His body ached, but he felt significantly more refreshed than he had been earlier in the morning. Kneeling, Simon retrieved his coat from within the cave before reaching back inside and withdrawing the burlap satchel. Unbinding the top, he pulled out one of the apples, enjoying the meager meal. He knew he’d have to find food again, sooner rather than later, but his outdoors skills were severely lacking. He was far better suited as a scavenger than a hunter, though he knew exactly where he could go to steal more food, should the need arise.
Shouldering his bag, he set off back toward the valley and ravine, pausing only as he searched for the elusive animal trail he had followed before. He eventually found similar hoof markings on the thin earth between the jutting rocks and was able to follow the trail back to the edge of the woods. Though barely visible from this side of the foliage, Simon could faintly make out the start of the trampled ground leading deeper into the forest.
Pushing through the brush, he found himself once again amidst the narrow, reedy trees. He wrapped his hand around the trunk of one and pulled it toward him. The root system clung firmly to the soil while the tip of the tree bent nearly to Simon’s waist. Satisfied, he released the tree and let it spring violently back into place.
Dropping the bag to the ground, Simon untied its top and dumped the contents haphazardly onto the ground. Adding to the pile of rope and the knife, Simon pulled some of the wooden stakes from his pockets and tossed them onto the ground.
Simon whistled softly as he began his work. Using the knife, he cut a few shorter lengths from the long coil of rope on the ground. He measured them at cubit lengths before adding the newly cut strands to a growing pile at his feet. When he had enough, he put his knife away.
He worked quickly, bending a nearby sapling until it was bent nearly parallel to the ground. He tied the longer length of rope to its tip before tying the other end firmly in place around a broader, older tree nearby. The reedy tree pulled tightly against the rope but it held in place, bent low and away from the bushes concealing the entrance to the animal trail.
Simon stepped back onto the trail, passing beyond the thick underbrush. From his vantage point, the bent sapling was invisible to the naked eye. He hoped the foliage similarly hindered the vampires’ view.
Stepping b
ack through the narrow opening of the animal trail, he noted how the sapling was set to spring across the trail. Even with the slight upward arc, it would strike a normal man at approximately chest level.
Retrieving his smaller lengths of rope and the stakes, Simon began tying them along the length of the sapling. The wooden stakes jutted like teeth from the sapling, pointing dangerously toward the edge of the dense woods.
He turned slowly and watched the sun sink behind the tips of the nearby pine trees. It wouldn’t be long until sunset, sooner still until the trees blocked the sun’s rays. Properly motivated by their hatred, the vampires could be awake and giving chase within the hour.
Simon hurriedly took the other coil of rope and formed a set of practiced knots. A series of loops ran its length by the time he was finished. He tossed the knotted end of the rope over a nearby hanging tree branch before tying off the other end of the rope to the tree’s wider trunk. Satisfied, Simon collected the knife and sliver of flint before stepping back through the brush.
Jogging quickly toward his cavern, he realized that time was of the essence. He was losing the light and doubted the vampires would give him the benefit of the doubt by waiting until he was properly prepared. Reaching the bottom of the hill, Simon took some of the dry scrub brush from the ground nearby and formed a small pile. Holding out his knife, he struck its back edge with the flint. Sparks flickered but failed to fall on the brush below. Leaning forward, he tried again and again, each time sending a shower of sparks into the darkening night’s air but igniting nothing.
Simon grumbled to himself and glanced cautiously over his shoulder. The sparks alone might be enough to attract one of the vampires, but he needed to be sure.
Insistently, Simon struck the flint again. This time, as sparks fell over the kindling, a small flame caught on the end of a pile of grass. Simon cupped his hands and blew gently, oxidizing the ember and helping it grow to a full-fledged flame. For a painful moment, he feared he had blown too hard and the ember had been extinguished, but a second gentle blow of air brought it roaring back to life. The small flame ignited more grass around it and within seconds, a small campfire was burning.
He didn’t bother adding any wood to the pile, despite the fact that the grass would burn itself out fairly quickly. He didn’t need or want a permanent flame. In fact, he wanted it to burn just long enough to catch a vampire’s attention before it extinguished.
Simon took his knife and stood, turning away from the already dwindling flame. He started as he saw a dark-robed figure watching him from across the rocky ground.
The Inquisitor clutched the knife before him, more reflexively than as a true threat to the vampire. His eyes darted from side to side, an action that he was sure looked like nervousness to the vampire. Rather, Simon was ensuring there was but one vampire. More than one would have been difficult to handle, though not impossible.
Seeing no one else, Simon nodded toward the vampire. “Shall we dance, you and I?”
The vampire stepped toward him as the glow from the small fire faded into obscurity. Rather than advancing on the monster, Simon turned and ran in the opposite direction as quickly as his legs could handle. He knew the vampire was far quicker, but they didn’t have far to go.
The vampire struck him across the back as it quickly closed the distance between them. Simon tumbled forward, barely avoiding a jutting stone that most certainly would have fractured bones. He rolled gracefully to his feet and continued running, ignoring the vampire behind him as best as possible.
The tree line rapidly approached, but the vampire was once again quicker. It ran beside Simon before throwing its weight into his shoulder. He careened to the side, tripping over a stone and skidding to his hands and knees. He could feel the uneven ground biting into his knees and palms, and he winced at the sharp pain. Where he had clutched the knife, it had been his knuckles that had dragged across the ground and acute agony rolled up his arm.
The vampire paused at the smell of blood. Simon glanced over his shoulder. Even in the darkness, he could see the conflicting emotions on the creature’s face. It clearly intended to kill him, but seemed hesitant to simply drain him of his blood. There was no doubt in the Inquisitor’s mind that the vampire had received specific orders about his treatment and eventual disposition.
With the vampire temporarily distracted, Simon crawled into the underbrush. When he was clear of the bushes, he stood and stumbled forward, even as the vampire crashed unceremoniously through the foliage.
It paused as it realized that Simon had stopped his retreat. He stood facing the vampire, the knife held aloft in his hand. The vampire barely had a moment to register the rope beside him before Simon brought down his arm.
The rope severed as he cut through it with the blade. With the released tension, the sapling sprung blindingly forward, the sharpened stakes leading its arc. The vampire hissed and tried to step aside, but he moved too late. The stakes pierced his right chest and down into his stomach. The vampire tilted its head backward and howled in pain.
Simon smiled, glad that the abominations could properly feel pain. Though everything he was doing held a clinical detachment for him, there was a gleeful side to his experimentation, one in which he willingly caused the anguish of the monsters trying to kill him.
The vampire clutched the branch and tried to remove the wooden stakes, though it clearly moved with great hesitation. It realized its own mortality against the wooden spears puncturing its body and refused to be too hasty. Simon counted on its hesitation as he grabbed the looped and knotted end of the second rope and ran behind the vampire.
He slipped the longest loop around the vampire’s throat, pulling the noose tight. As it pulled its arms away from the branch in surprise, Simon placed slipknots over each arm. He placed his foot in the creature’s back and pulled with all his weight. As the knots cinched tightly, it jerked the monster’s arms backward and together. The last two loops went around the vampire’s ankles and were similarly tightened.
The vampire alternated struggling against its bonds and staring down at the stakes, which moved closer to its heart with every jerk of its body. Simon knew the creature would break free quickly, so he rushed to the tree trunk and grasped the far end of the knotted rope. Throwing his weight against it, the rope pulled taut, lifting the vampire from the ground. Its ankles were pulled awkwardly toward its wrists, stealing any hope of leverage and, hopefully, any chance of it breaking its bonds.
With the vampire incapacitated, Simon approached it cautiously. It glowered at him and hissed, revealing its fangs.
“I’ll kill you for this, human!” it howled. “I’ll drink your blood. The chancellor be damned, I’ll crush your bloodless skull between my bare hands.”
Simon’s hand shot out and he slit the vampire’s throat with the knife. The creature gurgled, despite the lack of blood that seeped from the wound. It stared at him in disbelief and then tried to rail against him once more, only to find that the slit to his throat stole his voice as well.
“Thank God,” Simon muttered. “I was starting to think you’d perform a full monologue before I got you quiet.”
Ignoring the vampire’s rage, Simon pulled the stakes free of the creature’s body. Without the wooden spears and the reedy tree holding him in place, the vampire spun lazily in the air at the end of the rope. The noose tightened further just above the gash to the creature’s neck, yet neither was enough to kill the undead monster.
Simon returned to the rope and pulled the vampire higher until its feet hovered just above the Inquisitor’s head. Satisfied, Simon sat down on the ground and stared up at the hate-filled visage.
“I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here at all,” Simon began. “Why I didn’t just kill you to start with. The simple answer is that I need answers from you, answers that only you possess. The more complex answer is that you are, for all intents and purposes, a science experiment.”
Simon reached into the burlap bag and pulle
d free the second apple. The exertion had left him bone weary and starving. He bit into the crisp apple and chewed noisily.
“I have a friend, as you’re well aware, who would bemoan my need to perform science experiments. He’s a much more straightforward man than you would ever believe, hardly ever making time for the finer pursuits in life.”
Carving free another slice with his knife, he raised it to his lips before pausing. He glanced down at the knife as though realizing for the first time that the blade that just cut his fruit had, moments before, cut the throat of a vampire. Disgusted, he dropped the apple to the ground and wiped his hands on his pants.
“I’m sure what you want to know is what sort of experiment I intend to conduct and how you play a role. The first part of my experiment is how quickly you can heal from a wound like the one on your neck. My hypothesis is that you’ll be fully healed before sunrise, but we shall see, won’t we?”
The vampire gurgled angrily, but Simon ignored him.
“The second part is a confirmation of modern mythology. You see, it’s said that vampires are destroyed by the first rays of morning.”
The anger in the vampire’s eyes quickly changed to fear, and he jerked futilely against his ropes.
“Since none of you have bothered to show yourself during the day, the truth would lend itself toward mythology. However, what good scientist would I be if I merely took the word of third-party observations and conjecture?”
Simon stood and dusted off his pants. He glanced through the woods, despite how dark it had grown underneath the canopy of leaves. Turning back toward the vampire, he knelt and collected his bag.
“I’m going to leave you for a bit,” Simon said as he passed underneath the vampire. “Do keep in mind that I will be very put out should you not be here upon my return.”
Simon stepped through the underbrush, ignoring the groaning of the rope as the vampire struggled to free itself.
The Blood Thief of Whitten Hall (A Magic & Machinery Novel Book 2) Page 30