The Blood Thief of Whitten Hall (A Magic & Machinery Novel Book 2) (21 page)

“Were it at all possible, my dear, I most certainly would. However, we’ll be moving quickly once we leave, to put as much distance between us and our pursuers. A large group will slow us down. Moreover, I can’t guarantee the innocence of the rest of the town. It’s far more than likely that a good portion of them are in collusion with the vampires. No, in this instance, we’ll take just the one who will be our advocate before the Grand Inquisitor, confirming what we’ve witnessed. After that, we can return with an army that rivals the vampires’.”

Luthor fidgeted with the brim of his hat. “We’re going to look conspicuous when we suddenly leave town with our luggage in tow. If there are conspirators within the town during the day, they’ll be doing their best to stop us.”

“On the contrary, Luthor, we’ll be doing exactly what they want. The day we arrived, we met with the chancellor. He said the next train would be arriving in two days. That was last night. We’ll sleep tonight in the woods, which means that the train will be arriving in Whitten Hall some time tomorrow. They wanted us gone, and we will be more than happy to oblige. We should be miles away before the vampires are able to begin their pursuit and by then, it’ll be far too late.”

Mattie frowned and placed her arms over her knees. The Inquisitor glanced toward her and arched an eyebrow inquisitively.

“What’s bothering you, Matilda?”

Mattie shook her head. “We’re working so hard to convince the Grand Inquisitor that I’m not a threat, quite unsuccessfully thus far, might I add. He needs to know that those of us infected aren’t a danger to the crown. Instead, the very next mission on which we are sent, we encounter another group of infected citizens of the kingdom and, quite naturally, they’re slaughtering civilians. They’re a threat. What possible chance is there of convincing the Grand Inquisitor, once he comes to the natural conclusion that exceptions can’t be made for those infected, that we should be allowed to live?”

Simon nodded understandingly. “It’s a difficult path, to be sure, but a bridge we’ll have to cross when we come to it. For now, we can’t allow ourselves to be distracted.”

He gestured toward the uninvitingly hard forest floor. “Get some rest, both of you. Dawn will be here sooner than we think, and we have a full day ahead of us.”

Before the sun arose the following morning, Simon was awake. He removed his jacket from where it had draped over him like a blanket during the cooler, if not still humid, night. He roughly brushed the clinging grasses and fallen pine needles from the jacket before shaking it, dislodging the dirt and moss accumulated from the forest floor.

Though Luthor snored softly from his place beside a pine tree, Mattie was already awake. Her hair was damp, as though she had bathed that morning, leaving her blouse and leather jerkin damp from the water dripping from her hair.

“Morning,” Simon said, stifling a yawn.

“Good morning,” she replied as she gathered the meager belongings they had taken with them on their adventure the night before. “How did you sleep?”

“I slept like absolute rubbish, but thank you for asking just the same. There’s something about sleeping with a rock repeatedly jabbing you between your shoulder blades, all the while having the fear of being taken in the night by blood-sucking vampires, that results in a night of ill-begotten sleep. How did you sleep, Matilda?”

Mattie glanced up from her work and shrugged. “Fine,” she replied simply, her answer a strong counterpoint to Simon’s rambling.

Simon walked across their narrow clearing and kicked the sole of Luthor’s outstretched foot. The apothecary awoke with a start, tilting his bowler cap from in front of his eyes so quickly that it toppled completely from his head. Though his eyes settled on the Inquisitor, Simon was sure that Luthor didn’t actually see him.

Luthor reached up with the back of his hand and rubbed his eyes furiously. From the inside pocket of his suit, he withdrew his wire-framed glasses and placed them on his face.

“The sun is rising, Luthor, and so should we,” Simon said.

Luthor muttered something unintelligible before glancing toward the quickly brightening sky. The sun was beginning to crest over the tops of the nearby trees. Simon followed Luthor’s gaze and enjoyed the sudden warmth of the brilliant sun. He often took for granted the glow of the dawn, though that was likely to change when faced with denizens of the night. Suddenly, the morning sun seemed like the most glorious thing he had ever seen.

Luthor stood and retrieved his hat. Though on his feet, he still looked sadly disjointed and uncoordinated. Mattie glanced at the two men before shaking her head slowly. They had no mirror with which to appraise their current disposition. Neither man could appreciate the clinging pine needles in their hair, or the tussle of their normally perfectly coifed locks, or even the heavy wrinkles present on their attire. She walked to Luthor’s side and affectionately removed a blade of grass from the apothecary’s muttonchops.

“Go down to the river and wash up, both of you,” she said, motioning over her shoulder. “If your plan is to be incognito, you certainly won’t succeed looking as you do.”

Simon and Luthor exchanged curious glances, looking over one another and seeing their disheveled appearances. With a noncommittal shrug, Simon led them from the clearing and down to the stream.

They knelt beside the water and splashed handfuls of water across their faces in an attempt to wash away the sweat and grime from the night before.

Luthor reached down and filled the cup of his hands with water before taking a long drink. With a satisfied sigh, he sat back on the river’s bank.

“Do you think they found the bodies?” he asked.

Simon ran his wet fingers through his hair, taming the unruly mound. “I should sincerely doubt it. If they had, I doubt anywhere in the woods would have been safe.”

“Then there’s hope for an unopposed escape?”

Simon wiped his mouth on his sleeve before sitting beside his companion. “One can only hope, though we can hardly become complacent. At least some of the people in town are colluding with the vampires, of that I’m sure.”

Luthor furrowed his brow and stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Something has been bothering me since last night.”

Simon smiled. “Just one thing?”

Luthor returned the smile, though he still seemed disturbed. “If the chancellor’s intent was to lure more workers to Whitten Hall to feed, why go through the ruse of the fake vampire on the train? All that accomplished was to scare away over half their potential food source.”

Simon nodded as he picked up a flat stone. With a quick throw, he sent it skipping across the water. “I thought about that as well and believe I understand why.”

“Pray tell.”

“You are correct that over half the passengers disembarked and never came back aboard following the attack, but consider for a moment the sorts of people that fled the train. The government officials who had been sent previously who, according to our initial report, were deterred from reaching Whitten Hall by the very faux vampire that we killed. Had those men gone missing, the crown mostly likely would have assembled soldiers to inquire as to their disappearance. The staged attack on the train removed the more spineless of the government employees long before they could become a threat.”

“Quite right, sir, quite right. That would be why the chancellor was so hasty to ensure we boarded the next train, isn’t it? With us gone without incident, their malicious plan could continue unabated. What of the other workers who left, though?”

Simon stroked his chin. “I would dare say that those who disembarked, never to return, were not nearly as desperate as those who remained aboard. The type of man who would remain on the train despite the sorcerous attacks would likely be the type of man without a family or a future, whose only chance lie in an advert requesting manual laborers to Whitten Hall.”

Luthor rested his elbows on his knees and watched the sunrise reflect off the gently moving stream. “In essence, they thereby eliminated everyone whose disappearance would cause alarm and inquiry. Devilishly brilliant, they are.”

“And most deadly,” Simon replied. “I couldn’t count the number of dead within the mines, but assuming four trains have run before our arrival and using our train as an estimated average, there are potentially one hundred and fifty bodies discarded in the mine.”

Luthor blanched and shook his head. “It feels wrong of us to leave without proper redress.”

Simon patted the apothecary on the back. “Their crimes will be addressed, of that you can be certain.”

“Are you two quite done primping yourselves?” Mattie asked as she emerged from the woods.

“Nearly there, though it takes some time to emulate perfection,” Simon chided.

The two men stood and stretched muscles that had grown stiff from sleeping upon the ground. Simon ran his hand across his cheeks and felt the accumulated stubble. He wished he could shave, if for no other reason than to maintain appearances. Luthor often carried such nonsense as straight razors in his doctor’s bag, but the bag had been destroyed, Simon realized wistfully.

Mattie handed the two men their hats, which had been left at camp as they cleaned themselves. Simon placed his upon his head, concealing the still uncooperative hair thereunder.

They turned toward the covered bridge that spanned the stream, which was visible from where they stood by the water. The bridge wasn’t long when viewed in the sunlight. It had seemed far longer when they had crossed it in the dead of night the previous two nights. With the sun arisen, it appeared as an ill-painted and ill-maintained wooden bridge. As they stepped into its cooler interior, sunlight filtered through cracks in the boards, leaving the path before them striped with its light.

For a moment during their walk, Simon considered taking them back into the woods to avoid the chancellor’s manor house, but decided against it. He doubted any humans lived in the house during the day, since most of the chancellor’s security forces were most likely vampires like himself. Besides, Simon had already crafted a cover story about the trio enjoying a morning stroll. It would be far more curious for them to be discovered traipsing through the woods as opposed to casually strolling along the road.

The outpost of Whitten Hall came into view as they rounded a corner. As it had been when they first arrived, the town was a veritable ghost town. A few men walked primarily between buildings before disappearing into their cooler interiors. No one seemed at all interested in Simon and his companions’ comings and goings.

Luthor stepped beside Simon and pulled his hat down further over his eyes to block the now-glaring sun. “You don’t suppose the vampire in the chair would reveal that we were there, do you?”

Simon paused at the edge of town and stared pensively toward the distance. “It had crossed my mind, but I don’t believe so. Everything the vampire said made it seem like he was at odds with Chancellor Whitten. I could be wrong, of course, but I don’t believe he would turn us in.”

Luthor nodded contently before they walked into town.

The inn was one of the first buildings they reached after entering the town proper. Reaching the inn without being recognized should have been the simplest thing to accomplish.

Simon’s luck never held up that well.

“Inquisitor Whitlock!” Tom Wriggleton yelled as he approached from the train station. He jogged the rest of the distance and arrived somewhat out of breath. “I thought I recognized you, though to be honest, I’m surprised to see you all out so early.”

Simon smiled humorlessly. “With this being our last day in Whitten Hall, it only seemed right to take a stroll and stretch our legs before we are forced to sit for four days on our train ride home.”

Tom nodded, though he bit his lip inquisitively. “Begging your pardon for mentioning it, sir, but you all look awfully tired.”

Simon sighed, eager to be done with the conversation already. “We’re not much of morning people.”

Tom frowned as he stared into Simon’s impassive gaze. Gingerly, the man reached out and plucked a pine needle from Simon’s shoulder.

Simon glanced at the offending flora and arched an eyebrow defiantly. “It was a very difficult walk over lots of rough terrain. Now if you’ll excuse us, Mister Wriggleton, I believe we must pack before our train arrives.”

“Of course,” Tom replied flatly.

As they turned away, Simon noted a few other Whitten Hall residents emerging from nearby buildings. Unperturbed, he led his group into the inn.

The tavern portion was half-filled with patrons enjoying assorted drinks. Though the room still looked fairly empty, it was far busier than it had been over the past few days, especially during the hours of sunlight. Simon nodded politely at the assorted stares they received as they passed through the room. Luthor and Mattie pressed closer to his side, keeping out of the reach of the tables as they passed.

“They know,” Luthor muttered through pursed lips.

“I know,” Simon replied, though his polite smile never faltered. “Get your things as quickly as you can and meet me in the hall.”

Luthor and Mattie nodded, though they imitated Simon’s smile and gracious nods of recognition as best they could. They hurried upstairs, even as they heard the front door open behind them.

Simon hurried into his room, locking the door behind him. Pulling his suitcase from the closet, he stuffed clothes unceremoniously into the bag. He had to press down firmly to hold it closed as he latched the leather straps into place. From beneath the bed, he pulled the more appropriate Inquisitor’s kit. He quickly opened the wooden box, revealing the assortment of instruments designed to slay mystical creatures.

Without hesitation, Simon removed a small pile of sharpened wooden stakes and slipped them into his jacket pocket. The smooth handles protruded from his jacket, but he was certain that discretion was no longer necessary. Likewise, he removed a series of extra bullets. He frowned at the selection, realizing that aside from his regular rounds, there were few options other than silver. He bit his lip thoughtfully as he tried to remember if vampires disliked silver. They had been so effective against the demon in Haversham, though completely ineffectual against the werewolves who, by mythology, should have been susceptible. Shrugging, he reloaded his revolver with silver bullets.

A gentle rapping at his door caught his attention. He quickly closed his Inquisitor’s kit and stuffed it under one arm, even as he lifted his suitcase in the other. Simon pulled open the door, revealing a nervous Luthor and Mattie.

He stepped out of his room and joined the others in the hall.