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

again?”
    Simon shrugged. “That’s hardly up to me, sir. You’d have to ask Ms. Hawke.”
    “You mean she can understand me, even in her more primitive state?”
    “I can do far more than understand you,” Mattie said. Though her voice was far more guttural and coarse, it was still unmistakably hers.
    The Grand Inquisitor turned sharply back toward Mattie. “You can speak?”
    “Did you expect that I turned into a mindless predator after the transformation?” she asked, her canine lips bending and twisting oddly as she pronounced each word.
    “Forgive me, madam, but I actually did.”
    Mattie reared back, lifting her front paws from the ground and balancing on her back legs. She was able to look the Grand Inquisitor in the eyes, even as he stepped slowly away from her more imposing posture.
    She placed her front paws on her hips in a mock of the position she took when defiantly speaking to the Grand Inquisitor earlier. The familiarity seemed to give the elder man pause, and he tilted his head inquisitively.
    “Rest assured, sir, that I’m very much in control of my faculties,” she explained. “My imposing visage is in no way an underpinning of a monster hidden within. It’s merely, forgive the pun, another face that I wear.”
    “Truly remarkable,” the Grand Inquisitor remarked. “Please, madam, I’ve seen enough. You may change back now.”
    Mattie walked over to her discarded pile of clothes on the floor and reached down, retrieving her blouse from the pile. She held it tightly between her paw and opposable thumb, feeling the fabric even through the thick pads on her palm.
    “If it’s all the same, gentlemen,” Mattie said, “I would appreciate the courtesy of turning around once more. I’ll be returning to human form as naked as a newborn babe.”
    Simon invited the men to his side. Again, they turned toward the far wall. The sound of her fur sloughing from her body was nauseating, and Simon hated the thought of the filth that was certainly piled upon the Grand Inquisitor’s immaculately kept office. Within seconds, Mattie cleared her throat and the men turned toward her.
    She was fully dressed once more, looking very similar to the way she had appeared upon her arrival, save for the new dampness to her hair. At her feet, a gelatin oozed across the ground, intermixed with faint clouts of white hair. As they watched, the sludge evaporated, filling the room with a musky mist before dissipating completely. The floor appeared slick with moisture but otherwise untarnished.
    The Grand Inquisitor motioned toward the chairs on the near side of his desk. He walked around the table and sat in his own high-backed chair.
    As they sat, he glanced toward Mattie. “You’re not at all what I expected.”
    Mattie smiled reassuringly. “I’ve heard that many more times than you would believe.”
    “No, no, I’m quite certain I know exactly how many times you’ve heard that phrase recently,” he replied, glancing toward Simon and Luthor.
    “Forgive the intrusion, sir,” Luthor said as the Grand Inquisitor made eye contact, “but I feel that we need to discuss what happens next. You’ve seen now that there’s far more to Ms. Hawke than a mere title like ‘werewolf’ can truly do justice.”
    The apothecary glanced nervously toward Simon, as though he realized he had suddenly overstepped his bounds as a mere observer. Despite his awkward position, he cleared his throat and continued.
    “I guess what I’m asking, sir, is… what are your intentions?”
    The Grand Inquisitor sat back in his chair and stroked his chin thoughtfully. “I would refrain from providing an answer at this time.”
    Luthor began to speak but the Grand Inquisitor raised his hand, silencing him. “That’s not to say that I’ve made a decision one way or another. You’ve provided me far more to consider than I would have thought possible when this day began.”
    Simon nodded. “Sir, we understand the conundrum in which