Free The Blood Thief of Whitten Hall (A Magic & Machinery Novel Book 2) by Jon Messenger

from which he had retrieved the copper coins before he hurried upstairs to bathe and hastily dress.

 

    “No,” Luthor said adamantly as he paced across the sitting room floor.
    “No?” Simon asked, arching an eyebrow inquisitively.
    Luthor stopped and stared at his friend. “I won’t drag Mattie before the Grand Inquisitor. Everything about that seems like an ill-advised idea.”
    Simon leaned back in the chair and crossed his legs. “I’m not entirely convinced refusing is really an option.”
    “There’s always a choice.”
    Simon uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. “While you’re technically correct, I’m fairly certain that refusing the Grand Inquisitor’s invitation constitutes a poor life choice. It is, in fact, the type of life choice that significantly shortens one’s life.”
    Luthor threw up his hands in disgust. “You should have never told him in the first place, sir. You had no right.”
    “It wasn’t an issue of right and wrong, dear Luthor. It was an issue of responsibility. You yourself wanted this acceptance of Mattie and her ilk to progress. This is how it progresses.”
    Luthor finally stopped his pacing and took a seat across from Simon. “Maybe, but of all your acquaintances amongst the Inquisitors, was it absolutely necessary to tell the Grand Inquisitor?”
    “Of all the Inquisitors, he’s the most prone to support our cause.”
    “True, so long as he doesn’t string us up by our necks first, or have us drawn and quartered. Perhaps he’d have us burned at the stake instead for heresy.”
    Simon shook his head. “If we were to ignore the Grand Inquisitor’s invitation, what then?”
    “I don’t know,” Luthor admitted. “We’d run, perhaps; take a zeppelin to the far reaches of the continent.”
    “Sail south, perhaps, into Khovus? I’m sure the Khovelian Knights would be beyond thrilled to have someone of your stature joining their ranks. Then again, I don’t believe they’d be overtly keen to the idea of a werewolf in their midst. Certainly you’d be fine, so long as she never revealed her true nature.”
    “You’re an insufferable bore, sir.”
    “Breathe deeply, Luthor. You’re overreacting. You’ll be prone to bouts of hysteria if you’re not more careful.”
    Luthor narrowed his eyes dangerously but bit his tongue.
    “I should have a say in this, shouldn’t I?” Mattie asked from the doorway to the kitchen.
    Both men turned toward the redhead, who merely folded her arms defiantly across her chest. “By all means, don’t let me interrupt your heated discussion. Finish so that I might find out my fate, as it was decided by two men, neither of whom, I might add, have any claim to my life and subsequent well-being.”
    Luthor flushed with embarrassment but Simon merely arched his eyebrow, encouraging her to continue.
    “Luthor,” she said as she walked over and sat beside the apothecary, “I am truly touched by your genuine concern for my health. Simon, likewise, you are trying your best to fulfill the request made by both Luthor and me when we left Haversham. I can find no fault with either of your positions. However, this decision has to be mine alone and I would like to meet the Grand Inquisitor.”
     
    Simon’s heart pounded in his chest as they entered the Grand Hall. The morning was quiet around the Inquisitors’ offices. The great meeting had concluded a few days earlier, and many of the Inquisitors and Pellites had returned to their distal stations. A few remained, those awaiting assignments or recently returned, like Simon himself.
    A valet took their hats and coats. Mattie drew her hands across her stomach as her thick jacket was taken. Her nervousness was palpable as she glanced periodically around the expansive entry hall. Her hands drifted upward and tugged on the tight collar of her dress.
    “Quit tugging on it or the whole thing will tear,” Luthor warned.
    Mattie frowned. “I feel like a very weak man is trying to choke me to