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

we’ve placed you and, for that, we apologize.”
    “As well you should,” the elder man quickly replied. “Mr. Strong and Ms. Hawke, please give us the room. There is some Inquisitor business that I must address with Inquisitor Whitlock.”
    Luthor glanced nervously toward the Inquisitor, but Simon nodded his approval. Hesitantly, Luthor and Mattie stood from their chairs. They walked to the door, opened it, and disappeared into the hallway. The door swung shut behind them and closed with a click of its lock.
    Simon took a deep breath as he looked at his former mentor’s somber expression. “Sir, I believe I can explain—”
    “Have you taken a leave of your senses?” the Grand Inquisitor asked, striking the report with his open hand. Simon leapt at the sound. “You have brought a werewolf into the heart of our kingdom, within a stone’s throw from the castle itself? Have you gone mad?”
    “You’ve read my report, sir,” Simon replied calmly. “You’ve seen Ms. Hawke with your own eyes. You know that things are a bit more complicated than we originally believed.”
    Simon leaned forward in his chair as he continued. “These are our citizens, not monsters ripped from the bosom of the Rift. They aren’t here to overthrow our sovereignty. Quite the opposite—they’re men and women loyal to the crown.”
    The Grand Inquisitor threw up his hands in disgust. “For someone so astute, you are absolutely blinded by this case. Bringing her here puts us all at risk. I don’t merely mean your life and that of your apothecary companion. I don’t even mean my own life, since I am now privy to your report. If word were to escape of what you’ve done, it would tarnish the very credibility of our organization. Our name and reputation would be worthless, if the people knew that we harbored monsters.”
    Simon bit his lip until he tasted coppery blood in his mouth. “What would you have done, were our roles reversed? Would you have slaughtered the tribesmen? I ask simply because I know I couldn’t. I’m many things, sir, but I’m not an executioner.”
    The Grand Inquisitor leaned back in his chair and brushed the stray strands of hair from his face. “The three corpses that you brought with you from Haversham would say otherwise. You are very much an executioner, Simon. That’s the very expectation of being an Inquisitor.”
    Simon shook his head. “On the contrary, sir, that’s the very definition of being a Pellite. We’re supposed to be better than they are.”
    The two men sat in silence, staring intently at one another in a quiet battle of wills. The Grand Inquisitor finally reached up and stroked his chin thoughtfully.
    Taking Simon’s report from Haversham, he closed it. He opened a drawer beside him and placed the report into it. With a key he retrieved from around his neck, he locked it tightly, ensuring it would be available for his eyes only.
     
    “You’ve lost some perspective, Simon, perspective about what it is you were commissioned to do for the crown. You jeopardized everything we have worked for over the past decade, though your reasons are a mystery to me. Return to your homes and await my response. Whatever you do, Inquisitor, keep her close to your side at all times. You walk a fine line and play a very dangerous game with all your lives.”
    Simon frowned but nodded his consent. “In the interim, sir, we would ask the same discretion from you.”
    The Grand Inquisitor frowned as well. “You have some gall, but I shall grant your request.”
    Simon stood, understanding their meeting was at an end. “Thank you, sir. I look forward to your next missive.”
    He quickly exited the Grand Inquisitor’s office, pulling the door shut behind him. Luthor sighed disappointedly when he noticed Simon’s expression, though the Inquisitor revealed nothing of his private conversation. For a long moment, they merely stood in the hallway, absorbing all that had transpired.
    “Everyone looks like a