Mattie stood from the table, hastily closing the clasp on Luthor’s doctor’s bag. Simon caught a glimpse of a soot-stained book before she stepped to him and hugged him tightly. Simon groaned under the pressure but welcomed her embrace.
“It’s good to see you well again,” she said as she finally released him.
“‘Well’ is a relative term, my dear,” he replied, “but I’m feeling significantly more human.”
Simon motioned toward the table and Mattie took a seat, pushing the doctor’s bag against the wall. He sat at the table as well, taking a seat across from Mattie. Luthor quickly joined the pair, taking his place beside the redhead.
His gentlemanly visage dissipated along with his proper dining manners. He stuffed food into his mouth with gluttonous abandon. After some time of eating, Simon leaned back in the chair and sighed contently. He couldn’t remember food ever tasting so satisfying. He glanced toward his friends but was surprised to see them looking away, thoughtfully staring out the window.
“You have questions, of course,” he said.
“Of course,” Luthor replied, bringing his attention back to his mentor, “though I haven’t the foggiest of what to say.”
“They killed them all,” Mattie said, her bluntness sometimes needed when civilized decorum failed. “The townsfolk, I mean, of course.”
“I know very well what you mean,” Simon said, finding a reason to stare intently at his hands resting upon the table.
Luthor swallowed hard, his throat bouncing from the effort. “I didn’t know the Pellites would be so savage upon their arrival, sir, you must believe me. I knew they would destroy the vampires but not the humans of Whitten Hall.”
Simon shook his head as he glanced toward his friend. “I don’t blame you, Luthor. You may not have known, but I did when I wrote the note.”
Luthor appeared crestfallen. “You knew, and yet you sent for the Pellites all the same?”
“What choice did I have? You don’t send for the Order of Kinder Pel with the instructions to preserve life. They’re assassins, one and all. They’re under the guise of Inquisitors like myself, but we’re nothing alike.”
Luthor shook his head. “Some of them were evil, sir, like Tom and Gregory, but I can’t believe the entire town was vile. Misguided, perhaps, but there existed a chance for redemption, didn’t there?”
“You’re a good man, Luthor, but a foolish one. You see the good in people and harbor hope that they can change. Not every man can change. Not every man was meant to.”
“And those men that cannot, sir? What of them?”
Simon glanced out the window, his reply halfhearted. “Those men are evil, Luthor. We do not abide evil men.”
A silence fell between the men. Luthor stared at Simon for some time, even as his mentor’s gaze remained affixed on the glass window beside him. Eventually, the apothecary shook his head.
“I’ve known you for some time, sir, and I don’t think that you truly believe what you’re saying. This decision wasn’t as black and white as you are trying to portray it.”
Mattie reached across the table and squeezed his hands. “We’re your friends, Simon. You can talk to us freely.”
Simon sighed heavily and took back his hands from her grip.
“Whitten Hall just feels like one gigantic mistake,” Simon said.
Mattie shook her head. “Right or wrong, you made the only decision available.”
“You made the right choice, sir,” Luthor corrected.
Simon looked out the window and imagined the ruined town drifting past, bullet holes marring the storefronts, bodies twisted and baking in the street under the hot sun, and lakes of blood soaking into the dry sand. “Did I? Then why do I feel that it was so wrong? Why do I feel like I made a foolish, hasty decision?”
“Sir, it wasn’t foolish; you’re not foolish. You’re the smartest man I know.”
Simon took a deep breath. “Luthor, if ever I’ve given you a piece of advice to which you should closely adhere, this is it. Intelligence without conscience is as great an evil as any that plagues our land. Intelligence isn’t a gift; it’s a burden, one that should be tempered with experience and wisdom. Today, I made the intelligent choice in spite of its morality. Today, I wasn’t the better man. Today, I was merely the lesser of two evils.”
Simon didn’t actively avoid his friends through the rest of the trip, but he kept well enough to himself as they finished their journey back to the capital city. He slept, mostly, resting for nearly an entire day as his body tried to heal from his ordeal. He ate quietly in the cabin, often with Luthor and Mattie, but offered little conversation. Just as often as not, he found himself perched in the vestibule between the cars, feeling the day’s air turn slightly cooler the further they rode away from Whitten Hall.
With rest, food, and proper hygiene, his wounds healed nicely. His nose was still tender to the touch, but the bruising under his eyes was nearly gone by the time Callifax came into view.
The capital city towered over the nearby landscape. Suburbs beyond the city walls sprawled in tightly formed neighborhoods as the train rolled past, but they paled in comparison to the sloping summit on top of which the king’s castle rose like a spear from the earth. Even from the distance, Simon could see the other landmarks: the rising spires of the Callifax Abbey, the unsurprisingly multi-storied debtor’s prison rising over the northern part of town, and the stark white dome of the Grand Hall. It was home and just the sight of the great city was more reassuring than any of his friends’ words during their return journey.
Simon entered the rear car and returned to their cabin. Luthor and Mattie were packing their belongings into small pieces of luggage. They had rightfully packed light for their rescue trip, and it was easy to gather what few objects they had removed during the train ride.
The Inquisitor paused at the doorway as he realized that he had no personal effects to pack. The few sets of clothing that Luthor had brought with him had been packed in the apothecary’s bags. Simon didn’t even have a suitcase to call his own. The extent of his belongings from this trip now consisted solely of the clothes on his body, his revolver, pocket watch, and top hat.
Realizing there was no preparation that needed to be done, he instead made his way toward the rear of the train, where a narrow catwalk clung to the back of the train car. He opened the door and stepped onto the caboose’s back deck.
The sun was setting over the horizon, its last rays clinging to the sky, casting the air in shades of red and orange. For a moment, Simon cringed. Memories of being caught outside during the night flooded his mind, and he fought the urge to rush indoors where he would be protected from the pursuing vampires. As logic and sense reasserted itself, he breathed deeply until he forced his heart rate to slow to a healthy pace once more.
The sun disappeared from view as the train passed beneath the towering arch that marked the beginning of the city proper. The train’s whistle blasted loudly, and a few pedestrians nearby looked up at its passing. The train jostled as it rolled over tracks set across one of the roads. Cars waited patiently on either side, their drivers staring at Simon as the train rolled by.
The train blew its whistle once more, a long, drawn-out blast that split the evening air, as it slid into the Callifax station. It slipped into its berth. The station was alive with people either loading or unloading similar trains, all parked alongside one another. Wide walkways ran between them, a communal ground through which people bustled and pushed as they made their way on and off the platforms.
Constables kept the other pedestrians at bay as the Pellites began disembarking. Curious onlookers watched, though there was little of interest to see. There were no corpses that could be brought home for examination, unlike Gideon’s body. Instead, the Pellites climbed down from the passenger cars and simply walked away from the train, heading back to the Grand Hall where they would return their firearms before they returned to their homes.
Simon climbed down f
rom the rear deck, feeling a surge of comfort as his feet touched down on Callifax concrete. He walked down the platform as the tarps were removed from the cargo cars. The heavy Gatling guns were removed and placed onto awaiting carts. A pair of the gunners climbed back onboard before reemerging, this time carrying a large, white box between them.
It looked like a cooler or freezer, from where Simon stood, though not one he recognized. Even from a distance, he could see the shattered lock dangling from its hinges on the front. The Pellites loaded the cooler nonchalantly beside the Gatling guns before pushing away the cart.
Luthor and Mattie climbed down from the train and joined Simon on the platform.
“Can we interest you in dinner, sir?” Luthor asked.
“Yes, Simon,” Mattie agreed. “Do come with us.”
Simon glanced back and forth between his friends but shook his head. “Forgive me, but there’s something else I need to do instead.”
He stepped away from his companions, leaving them bewildered as he left the station.
There was a gentle knock on Veronica’s door. She glanced at the clock on the mantle, noting the late hour. The sun had set some time before and, having the night off, she had already changed into her nightgown.
She looked about until she located a robe draped over one of the chairs nearby. As she slipped it over her shoulders and tied it in the front, the knock came again.
“I’m coming,” Veronica said, just loudly enough to be heard by whoever waited on the far side of the door.
She started walking toward the door before she paused. It wouldn’t do at all to open the door to a stranger, especially at this late hour. Who knew the type of person who could be waiting? Her line of work seemed to invite the lowest common denominator of mankind. Glancing toward the mantle, she noted an empty glass vase. She took it in her hands, feeling its considerable weight. Satisfied that she was thusly armed, she walked to the door.
Leaning forward, she peered through the narrow peephole. At first, the man on the other side looked like a stranger. He was haggard in appearance, despite being well dressed. As he turned toward her, she immediately recognized him, despite the obvious injuries.
Throwing the locks aside, she opened the door and threw herself into Simon’s arms. Before he could speak, she kissed him passionately, wrapping her arms around his neck and sliding her fingers into his hair. She eventually pulled away, breathless.
Simon smiled broadly, but he winced at the effort. His cheek ached from the effort of smiling, and he was forced to return his expression to a more serious demeanor.
Veronica’s expression softened considerably as she reached up and gingerly touched the sutures under his eye. “My God, Simon, are you okay?”
Simon caught her wrist before she pressed too firmly. He looked at her lovingly, glad to be with her once more.
She smiled but looked worried simultaneously. “Is anything the matter?”
“Of course,” he said, trying to set her mind at ease. “I just made it back and could think of no other place I’d rather go.”
She smiled and reached up, caressing his uninjured cheek. “You’re always welcome. You can stay as long as you’d like.”
“I’d like to stay the night, if it’s all the same.”
Veronica smiled broadly and stepped aside, allowing Simon to enter her apartment.
Luthor approached the bookcase in his study and ran his fingers along the spines of the leather-bound novels. He paused as he reached an innocuous book, one that looked unremarkable amongst the multitude of other similarly bound books. Placing his finger atop the tome, he pulled it toward him. The book tilted, and Luthor heard the telltale clicking of gears behind the wall. The clicking continued until it stopped with a sudden rattle of chains, as though a heavy weight had been released behind the bookcase.
With a bit of effort, Luthor placed his hands against the edge of the wooden shelves and pulled them toward him. The entire bookcase swung aside on well-oiled hinges, revealing a spiral staircase leading into the basement.
As Luthor stepped into the stairwell, torches lit of their own volition along the stairs, illuminating the path before him. Tucking the small, black journal under his arm, Luthor descended the stairwell.
The stairs ended abruptly at a door with no handle. No windows marred the front of the perfectly crafted wooden portal and the edges of the door fit snuggly against its frame, allowing no light to seep around it. Luthor reached out and felt the cool wood, lacquered so heavily that it nearly reflected his image. Near the top of the door, he drew a circle. He made similar circles on the left and right before bisecting all three with lines that met in the center. As the lines connected, they glowed a soft blue. On the far side of the door, tumblers fell into place and locks slid aside. With a hiss of escaping air, the door opened.
Luthor’s second study, for that was what this room was, looked nothing like the book-laden room upstairs. Flasks and beakers lined tables against the walls, though their concoctions were anything but science. Within one, black fluid swirled of its own volition as twinkling lights like stars drifted through its miasma.
The walls held artifacts that he had collected from his journeys, both with Simon and alone. Maps of the three continents were pinned to the wall with red wax pencil markings across their surfaces. Arcane runes were drawn above the marked locations, though only Luthor could read his annotations.
In the center of the room was a large design similar to the one used to unlock the door. Each circle was large enough for a man to stand within, but Luthor stepped instead to where the lines intersected one another.
Pulling a piece of chalk from his pocket, he knelt down and drew a pentagram around his feet, so that he stood in the center of its inverted five-pointed star. As he stood, a gentle breeze blew through the room, fluttering maps affixed to the wall.
Luthor closed his eyes as he slipped a hand into his pocket, feeling the thin journal concealed within. He could feel his body shift slightly, as though the ground beneath him was made of sliding sand. As his body settled back into place, he opened his eyes.
He no longer saw the mystical study in which he’d been standing. He was now in a garden. The leaves rustled overhead as the same gentle breeze blew through the trees. A stream gurgled nearby, and the scent of freshly cut grass reached his nose. The garden was peaceful, though Luthor still felt very much on edge.
Six people sat amongst the trees, in varying stages of relaxation. A man in polished armor paced anxiously through the grove. A man and woman in similar silk robes sat cross-legged in the grass. A dark-skinned woman sat on a bench by the stream, her back to the apothecary. The last two men wore such heavy robes that their faces were concealed in deep shadows.
As they recognized Luthor’s presence amongst them, the six turned toward the apothecary.
“Agent Strong,” the dark-skinned woman said. “We have been waiting for you. How goes your mission?”
“Brothers and Sisters of the Cabal, I have much to report,” Luthor replied. He pulled the ancient vampire’s journal from his pocket, holding it aloft so that the bloody palm print on its cover was visible.
“The symbol of the Five,” the armored man said, frowning, though Luthor knew a deep frown was his general disposition. “One finger for each of the demon lords. Where did you find that?”
“On one of their servants here in the northern continent, an archaic vampire who had been trapped in our realm for hundreds of years.”
“Impossible,” the silk-covered man said. “The Five have not had access to our lands—”
“—but until recently,” the silk-covered woman finished.
“Yet this book is most certainly one of theirs, and it was trapped with this vampire deep under the ground. This is proof that there were servants of the Five in our lands in advance of their arrival, very possibly paving the way for their conquest.”
“Conjecture,” a dark robed man replied.
“Assumption without f
act,” the other said.
“It’s neither conjecture nor assumption and this… this is the proof.” Luthor opened the book, revealing arcane markings across the pages. “These are incantations and summoning rituals, the types that would be necessary to open a gateway between our worlds. This vampire is the proof that incursions into our world have happened before. Quite likely, there are dozens more monsters just like him scattered throughout our kingdoms.”
“What are you insinuating, Agent Strong?” the dark-skinned woman asked.
Luthor sighed as he forced himself to calm down. “I believe these rituals could be used to open a rift.”
Before the Cabal could respond, and they looked quite ready to respond angrily to his allegations, Luthor interjected. “Nothing to the degree of the Rift, but minor breaks in the barriers that divide our realms, a test of sorts that would pave the way for the invasion by the Five. With all your combined wisdom and intellect, you have to see this as a viable possibility. Even with our combined magic, we’ve never been able to satisfactorily explain how the Rift was formed. This could very possibly be our answer.”
“Similar magic?” a dark-robed man asked.
“Could be tracked?”
Luthor shrugged. “I can’t be certain. I couldn’t discern any residual magic on the creature, but it could have very well dissipated during the vampire’s imprisonment. If the vampire was sent here as a vanguard to the demons’ forces, then others could be here as well, monsters with a more potent magical signature.”
“It’s an interesting dilemma. If their magic is similar to that of the Rift, then we might be able to scry their locations. I would assume the beasts would be shielded—”
“—but our magic is strong. We will see what we can do,” the second silken twin concluded.
“How do you suppose the vampire became trapped deep beneath the earth?” the dark-skinned magician asked.
“He’s been here for ages,” Luthor said. “It’s possible his spell casting went awry, sending him far from his predetermined location. The teleportation magic could have created the pocket in the rock in which he was found, but it wouldn’t have provided him a means to escape.”
The Blood Thief of Whitten Hall (A Magic & Machinery Novel Book 2) Page 37