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

ghost has passed over their grave,” Mattie said. “What happened after we left?”
    “Let’s just agree that it certainly could have gone worse and leave it at that,” Simon finally said, breaking the sullen mood that had settled over the group.
    The Inquisitor turned away from the pair and walked toward the building’s entrance. Luthor shook his head and took Mattie’s hand, leading her down the hall and past a small throng of conversing Pellites, as they followed Simon’s departure.

 

    “I wasn’t being flippant earlier,” Simon said as they rode in the back of the automobile. “It absolutely could have gone worse.”
    The clunky, black car rattled along the cobblestone street as the taxi driver drove them toward their respective townhouses.
    “It could have also gone far better, sir,” Luthor said morosely. “In what bizarre world did you believe that the Grand Inquisitor would be a champion for acceptance of a werewolf in Callifax?”
    Simon chose not to reply, instead glancing out the window at the buildings that rolled slowly by.
    “I’m not entirely certain what all this means for me,” Mattie said nervously. “I know I wasn’t taken from his chamber in shackles, but somehow, I doubt I’m truly a free woman any longer.”
    “You’re not a prisoner,” Simon replied without turning back toward them, “but it would be wise to stay close for the foreseeable future.”
    “So in essence I’m shackled to you by invisible manacles?” she asked, disgusted. “It’s not a reassuring solution to our problem.”
    “Then what shall we do from here?” Luthor asked. “Will you take up residence on my couch to ensure we don’t leave Callifax in the dead of night?”
    Simon turned back toward them and sighed. “I don’t have the answers you seek, either of you. I don’t intend to suspend my life at the behest of the Grand Inquisitor, and neither should either of you.”
    “Are you proposing we just continue our lives as though none of this transpired, sir?” Luthor asked.
    “To a degree, that’s exactly what I mean,” Simon said, suddenly more enthusiastic about the conversation at hand.
    Luthor arched his eyebrow, knowing Simon’s varying moods all too well. “I presume you have something planned?”
    “Veronica has been begging to meet Mattie, and I believe tonight might be the best opportunity. There’s a film showing at the Majestic, about which Veronica has heard nothing but rave reviews. Come out tonight and watch a moving picture with us.”
    Luthor glanced toward Mattie, who merely shrugged noncommittally. The apothecary wasn’t sure Mattie had ever had the pleasure of watching a film, but the idea of leaving the townhouse tonight seemed mentally exhausting.
    “Perhaps another night, sir. Tonight might be better spent recuperating from our ordeal.”
    Mattie placed her hand on his. “No. Though I’m loathed to admit it, Simon might very well be correct in this instance.”
    Simon furrowed his brow. “Why does everyone keep adding a caveat every time they admit that I’m correct? As often as I am correct, it’s an exhausting habit.”
    Mattie smiled, though she wasn’t entirely sure if Simon was speaking in jest or not. “We’ve spent very little time outside the four walls of the townhouse since our arrival and the few misadventures we’ve taken into the city, like today for instance, have not ended as I would have desired. A film, and meeting the mysterious Veronica Dawn, would be a welcomed distraction.”
    Luthor shrugged. “It appears we’re accepting your invitation.”
    Simon smiled broadly. “Excellent. The film begins promptly at eight tonight.”
    The taxi rolled to a stop before their townhouses. The driver climbed quickly from his seat and opened the door so that the passengers could disembark. Simon set his top hat on his head as he climbed from the taxi, letting the brim of his hat block the warm sunlight. Luthor and Mattie followed suit. Reaching into