The Blood Thief of Whitten Hall (A Magic & Machinery Novel Book 2) (18 page)

“We must be off if we expect to be back in our beds before sunrise.”

Luthor and Mattie nodded. The apothecary offered his hand and helped pull the redhead to her feet. With a sigh, they pushed through the woods until they had rejoined the road.

With a twist, Luthor removed the screen from the lantern and the nearby woods were filled with a brilliant light once more. They squinted against its glow until, once again, their eyes adjusted to the change.

Simon led them through the covered bridge and up the incline, which led to the lip of the mining pit. Even from a distance, he could hear the hum of the generators. The electric floodlights filled the quarry with a strong yellow glow, so much so that even upon their approach the pit glowed like a city at night.

Luthor doused their lantern, its light seemingly insignificant against the electric lights nearby.

Simon lowered himself to a crouch before finally placing his hands firmly on the ground and practically crawling to the lip of the pit. The other two, likewise, crawled forward until they could peer into the wide shaft before them.

Along the rocky floor, two men pushed heavily laden mine carts along the rail. Tarps were draped across the tops, blocking their contents from view.

The carts rattled along the rail, the sound of the metal wheels echoing along the rock walls until it reached the ears of the companions, perched at the crest of the quarry.

The two men paused at the mouth of the iron mine and lit lanterns on the front of the carts before continuing into the mine itself. The light from the lanterns reflected off the rocky walls of the entrance before quickly fading from view.

Simon slid back from the lip of the pit, followed quickly by his two companions. The Inquisitor sat in the grass and chewed on his bottom lip.

“I guess this proves that the mine hasn’t been abandoned,” Luthor said.

“Indeed, you’re right,” Simon replied, “though I doubt any of us believed it was.”

“What do you suppose they were pushing into the mine?” Mattie asked.

“That’s an excellent question, my dear,” Simon answered. “I have every intention of finding out.”

With the quarry cleared of the workers, the trio cautiously made their way down the perimeter road. The trail descended steeply, hugging the edge of the pit as it circled toward the stony floor below.

The temperature dropped as they descended, as did the stifling humidity that had plagued Mattie since their arrival. Water seeped through small fissures in the rock, dribbling miniature waterfalls down the poorly worked strata of stone that they passed.

Within minutes, they had reached the mineshaft’s coarse floor. The base of the pit seemed far wider from the bottom than it had appeared from above. The wooden crane that had stretched its arm barely to the lip of the quarry seemed enormous when viewed from below, its outstretched arm rising like a dagger toward the night sky above. The stagnant pool of water sat motionless to one side of the pit; the walls of the shaft blocked the wind, leaving the air still.

Mattie walked away from the two men and approached the edge of the pool. With the back of her hand, she wiped the sweat from her brow before dipping both hands into the cool water. As she raised it toward her lips, Simon quickly approached and knocked her hands aside. Water sloshed from between her fingers, painting the dry stone with its droplets.

“You had better have had a very good reason for doing that,” Mattie threatened. “Neither of you thought to bring water along on our adventure and if I don’t drink something soon, I’ll most certainly faint from exhaustion.”

Simon shrugged. “Drink at your own risk, but know that the pool is contaminated with cyanide.”

Mattie looked to the small puddle of water still cupped in the palm of her hand. She tilted her hand, letting the water splash on the ground below, before quickly wiping her hand dry on the hem of her skirt.

“Who would put cyanide in the water?” she asked. “Is the chancellor and his kind really that devious?”

Simon shook his head. “It wasn’t meant for you, or any of us, for that matter.”

“Assume some of us have not been initiated into the ways of science, sir,” Luthor remarked.

“In iron mining, cyanide is often used to dissolve the ore for easier extraction from the mine. Run off, like the pool at your feet, gathers nearby. Therefore, the poison wasn’t meant for anyone in particular, though you would have been a most unfortunate victim had you drank from the pool’s waters.”

“You never cease to amaze me, sir.”

Simon glanced toward the apothecary. “You’re not the only one who does his research before an assignment.”

Mattie stood from beside the pool and motioned toward the entrance to the mine proper.

The hooded lantern, which had seemed so unnecessary amidst the stunningly bright floodlights on the quarry floor, was still covered as they made their way into the mine. Simon was hesitant to uncover the lantern, knowing its light would illuminate the tunnels much as the workers’ lanterns had. Upon entering the mine, however, he was forced to reconsider. The darkness beyond the reach of the floodlights’ glow was impenetrable, as though dark tendrils actively sought and consumed the meager light from the real world beyond its borders. The further they dared enter, the more they were swallowed by its gloom until Simon could no longer see his hand when held before his face. Begrudgingly, he told Luthor to remove the cover from their lantern.

Simon squinted as the light filled the broad tunnel. Moisture on the walls reflected the illumination like gemstones. The Inquisitor glanced cautiously around the mineshaft, ensuring the trio was alone.

The tunnel continued forward a short distance before turning abruptly. The metal rail, which had begun in the base of the quarry, followed the curve of the mine and disappeared from view.

As Simon was examining the curving, worked-stone wall, ensuring neither of the workers they had seen previously was observing them, the light turned startlingly aside. Simon was left in darkness, as was the tunnel before him.

Irritated, Simon turned to see what had caught Luthor’s attention. The apothecary and Mattie were examining a long, wooden table pressed neatly against the side of the wall. The wood itself had seen better days. What had clearly been years of exposure to the elements and the humidity of the mine had left the legs of the table partially rotted. Simon would not have trusted placing any significant weight upon the table, sure he was that it would collapse shortly thereafter.

Much to his surprise, there were items upon it. A series of small birdcages rested on the table’s surface. Each was empty and the doors to the cages were left open, as though long abandoned.

Luthor pushed gently on the door to one of the cages, and it creaked ominously. The apothecary quickly withdrew his hand as the sound reverberated through the mine. Simon cringed and gently shook his head.

“Sorry, sir,” Luthor whispered.

Simon glanced over his shoulder. “No worries, Luthor. What have you found?”

“I think we’ve solved the mystery of the non-indigenous forest canaries. I don’t think they escaped. It looks like they were intentionally released.”

“Odd,” Simon replied, as he furrowed his brow. “Yet we know this mine hasn’t been abandoned. Why release the creatures that warn of deadly fumes?”

Simon glanced past Luthor and noticed Mattie’s pale pallor. She bit her lip as though fighting the urge to vomit. Luthor noticed the Inquisitor’s concern and turned the lantern fully toward her.

“Mattie?” Luthor asked.

She shook her head and coughed softly. “Can’t you smell that?”

Simon closed his eyes and sniffed the air, but could discern nothing other than the underlying pungent aroma of stagnant water and chemicals. “What is it that you smell?”

She swallowed slowly. “Forgive me. I forget that your senses aren’t as sharp. There’s a smell of… of rot and decay, similar to what I sensed in the outpost itself, only significantly stronger. Something has died in these tunnels, something most foul.”

Simon needed no other provocation to draw his silver-plated revolver. He clutched the pistol in his hand as he turned deeper into the mine. Luthor set the lantern on the table, which creaked ominously under the lantern’s weight. To everyone’s relief, the table held. As Simon stared intently into the mine ahead, Luthor opened his doctor’s bag and removed a narrow vial of clear liquid. As he uncorked the tube, the overwhelming scent of mint filled the air around them.

“Mint?” Mattie asked as she stepped closer.

“Mint oil,” Luthor corrected. “Place a dab on your finger and run it into the insides of your nostrils. It will mask the other, more malodorous smells.”

She pressed her finger to the top of the vial and turned it upward, letting the oil pool on her finger. As she turned the vial upright once more, she paused.

“Are you sure this is the best option? We might need my keener sense of smell.”

Luthor shrugged. “You can either remain on the cusp of vomiting or you can happily accompany us, smelling nothing but the lovely scent of mint. It’s your choice.”

Mattie glanced at her finger before unceremoniously rubbing the insides of her nostrils. Even with the lantern turned away from her, Luthor could see her relief after the oil was in place.

Luthor retrieved the lantern and stepped beside Simon. “Anything, sir?”

Simon shook his head, though his eyes never left the turn of the tunnel. “I’ve neither seen nor heard anything that would have me believe they know we’re here. Regardless, we’d best be on our guard.”

The trio moved to the bend in the tunnel and paused. Simon’s instinct was to cautiously observe around the bend before continuing, but he quickly realized the foolishness of that notion. The only way to observe around the corner would be to shine the lantern’s light, which would immediately alert anyone around the bend to their presence. Gripping his pistol tighter, he opted to step around the corner in plain view. When no shouts of alarm were sounded, he sighed with relief.

Despite a few smaller tunnels branching from the main passage, they chose to follow the rail as it descended deeper into the mine. Their lantern was the only visible light, and its flickering flames gave the constant illusion of movement where none was to be found.

No one spoke as they walked. Their footfalls alone echoed far too loudly in the stone mineshaft. They cringed every time their booted feet struck a wayward stone, sending it skittering across the rocky ground. Yet, despite what they perceived as far too much noise, no one moved to hinder their advance.

Simon frowned as they continued walking. He was a poor judge of distance on the surface. Luthor had often chastised him during even routine hikes for misjudging the distance traveled. Underground, without the benefit of the stars or even trees to use as a judge, he was completely turned about. He would have presumed they had walked miles already. Each turn, he expected to find something of note, but turn after turn revealed nothing of interest. A mine car was abandoned in a larger chamber, pushed onto a conjoining rail and then forgotten, but it appeared far worse for wear than the ones being pushed by the workers.

Only his pocket watch gave Simon a sense of passing time. He glanced at it as often as he felt was sensible, though he was continuously surprised to see only minutes had passed after what felt like an hour. He was disoriented, and it didn’t help that every wall and every ceiling appeared identically worked by identical tools.

His mind wandered as they made another turn. So distracted was he that his mind barely registered the oddity before him, even as his legs stopped moving of their own volition. Luthor and Mattie stopped as well, flanking him on either side. No one spoke, though no one had to.

The rail ended abruptly in the center of the chamber before them. Two mine carts in fine working order, clearly the same two which they had observed outside the mine, were resting against a wooden crossbeam at the end of the rail.

Beyond the rail’s terminus, however, was what truly caught their attention. Before them, a tall, wooden door blocked the path ahead.

“Is there a lock?” Simon asked in a hushed tone.

“You’ll have to give me a moment, sir,” Luthor replied. “I’m an apothecary, not a thief. My experience with examining doors for locks is severely limited.”

“Well, don’t feel rushed on our account.”

Luthor glanced over his shoulder disapprovingly before returning to his work. He pushed his glasses further up his nose as he peered into the narrow keyhole. The light danced behind him and his shadow repeatedly fell over the lock, blocking his view. The apothecary frowned as he leaned closer and looked through the keyhole.

As the apothecary worked, Simon glanced over his shoulder toward where the two mine carts had been swallowed by the darkness. A most cursory examination of the carts had revealed nothing telling, but had opened more questions than it had answered. The carts were free of the dust and debris normally associated with mining. A fabric of some sort had recently been pressed against the bottom of the mine cart, though they were both currently empty. Only thin, white fibers remained behind, clinging to the spots of rust at the bottom of the cart. With an exasperated sigh, the Inquisitor turned back toward the mysterious door.

Finally, after some consternation, Luthor leaned away from the door’s lock and stood.

“So what do you have to say?” the Inquisitor asked.

Luthor brushed the accumulated dust from the knees of his pants. “It doesn’t appear locked.”

Simon frowned. “It isn’t locked or it merely doesn’t appear locked?”

“It’s six or one half dozen, as far as I’m concerned,” Luthor replied. “Once again, I’m an apothecary. If you want someone proficient in picking locks, perhaps you should stop hiring pharmacists and werewolves, and instead hire a slightly less trustworthy highwayman or cutpurse.”

“You’ve had a foul disposition here of late, Luthor. It’s unbecoming.”

Luthor stepped out of the direct light and sneered. “You drive me to it, sir.”

“Are you both quite done?” Mattie asked, again playing the role of mediator between the two longtime friends. She turned the lantern from one man to the other, ensuring the light shone brightly in their eyes. The two men took a moment as the artifact of the light cleared from their vision.

Luthor motioned toward the door, even as he blinked hard to clear his sight. “It doesn’t appear locked. After you, sir.”