Read Online The Blood Thief of Whitten Hall (A Magic & Machinery Novel Book 2) by Jon Messenger - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jon Messenger
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how many times he belabored the point to Simon during their tenure together as mentor and apprentice.
The Grand Inquisitor began reading the report with more attentiveness than he had offered the two previous ones. The slaying of a demon was worth his attention, not to mention the corpses of the two werewolves Simon returned as well.
As the Grand Inquisitor concluded the first page and began reading the second, his smile began to falter. His smile quickly became a flat effect on his face, which in turn deepened to a frown that was borderline disappointment and outright anger.
By the time he finished the last sentence of Simon’s report, he slammed it closed. For a moment, he merely sat in silence. The Grand Inquisitor interlaced his fingers and rested them on the table as his face flushed with disappointment.
Taking a deep breath, he unlaced his fingers and slid a hand beneath his robe, retrieving a key kept upon a chain around his neck. He slipped the chain over his head and used it to unlock the drawer by his left elbow. The drawer slid open, revealing a small ensemble of seemingly innocuous items, to include a letter opener, a long quill, and what appeared to be a miniaturized snow globe. The Grand Inquisitor took Simon’s report and dropped it into the drawer before closing and locking it quickly.
From the drawer to his right, he retrieved a sheet of parchment and placed it before him on the table. On the parchment, he wrote five simple words before folding the parchment neatly. He lifted the glass globe that covered the oil lantern and set it aside, exposing the flickering wick within. From the same desk drawer, the Grand Inquisitor took a stick of red wax, which he held to the flame. As it began to run, he removed it from the fire and pressed it against the seam of the note, sealing the parchment shut. Before the wax could cool, the Grand Inquisitor slipped a ring from his finger and pressed the signet ring into the pool of wax. As he withdrew the ring, the perfect form of the Inquisitor’s seal was visible in the center.
Pushing back from his table, he carried the note across the room, opened the door, and stepped into the hallway.
“Messenger!” the Grand Inquisitor yelled into the hallway.
A few doors down, a door flung open and a young man rushed to his side. The young letter carrier, kept on retainer specifically for purposes such as these, stood at rapt attention at the man’s side.
“I need this to be delivered to the residence of Inquisitor Whitlock at first light,” the Grand Inquisitor said, his voice intentionally softened despite the gruff irritation he felt. “You know where he resides?”
“I do, sir,” the messenger replied.
“Good. At first light, do not be late.”
The messenger shook his head hastily. “No, sir.”
The carrier took the letter and stuffed it into the inner pocket of his oversized jacket. The boy rushed back to his room to get some rest before he had to depart.
The Grand Inquisitor waited for the boy to close the door behind him before walking back into his office. He shook his head softly and frowned to no one in particular.
“Simon, you damnable fool. What have you done?”
A bothersome knock sounded at Simon’s front door. He opened his eyes a crack. Though the dim light of dawn was barely creeping through his window, he didn’t feel nearly rested enough to face the day as of yet. He closed his eyes again, hoping that whoever rapped at his door would soon leave him be.
Moments later, the knock sounded again, louder and more insistent than the time before.
Uncoordinatedly, Simon reached toward his pocket watch resting on the nightstand beside his bed. For a moment, he considered reaching past the watch toward the silver-plated revolver that lay beyond it, but he thought better of it. Tilting the watch toward him, he saw that it was barely past six in the morning. At most, he had been asleep for four hours.
With a groan, Simon slid his legs over the
The Grand Inquisitor began reading the report with more attentiveness than he had offered the two previous ones. The slaying of a demon was worth his attention, not to mention the corpses of the two werewolves Simon returned as well.
As the Grand Inquisitor concluded the first page and began reading the second, his smile began to falter. His smile quickly became a flat effect on his face, which in turn deepened to a frown that was borderline disappointment and outright anger.
By the time he finished the last sentence of Simon’s report, he slammed it closed. For a moment, he merely sat in silence. The Grand Inquisitor interlaced his fingers and rested them on the table as his face flushed with disappointment.
Taking a deep breath, he unlaced his fingers and slid a hand beneath his robe, retrieving a key kept upon a chain around his neck. He slipped the chain over his head and used it to unlock the drawer by his left elbow. The drawer slid open, revealing a small ensemble of seemingly innocuous items, to include a letter opener, a long quill, and what appeared to be a miniaturized snow globe. The Grand Inquisitor took Simon’s report and dropped it into the drawer before closing and locking it quickly.
From the drawer to his right, he retrieved a sheet of parchment and placed it before him on the table. On the parchment, he wrote five simple words before folding the parchment neatly. He lifted the glass globe that covered the oil lantern and set it aside, exposing the flickering wick within. From the same desk drawer, the Grand Inquisitor took a stick of red wax, which he held to the flame. As it began to run, he removed it from the fire and pressed it against the seam of the note, sealing the parchment shut. Before the wax could cool, the Grand Inquisitor slipped a ring from his finger and pressed the signet ring into the pool of wax. As he withdrew the ring, the perfect form of the Inquisitor’s seal was visible in the center.
Pushing back from his table, he carried the note across the room, opened the door, and stepped into the hallway.
“Messenger!” the Grand Inquisitor yelled into the hallway.
A few doors down, a door flung open and a young man rushed to his side. The young letter carrier, kept on retainer specifically for purposes such as these, stood at rapt attention at the man’s side.
“I need this to be delivered to the residence of Inquisitor Whitlock at first light,” the Grand Inquisitor said, his voice intentionally softened despite the gruff irritation he felt. “You know where he resides?”
“I do, sir,” the messenger replied.
“Good. At first light, do not be late.”
The messenger shook his head hastily. “No, sir.”
The carrier took the letter and stuffed it into the inner pocket of his oversized jacket. The boy rushed back to his room to get some rest before he had to depart.
The Grand Inquisitor waited for the boy to close the door behind him before walking back into his office. He shook his head softly and frowned to no one in particular.
“Simon, you damnable fool. What have you done?”
A bothersome knock sounded at Simon’s front door. He opened his eyes a crack. Though the dim light of dawn was barely creeping through his window, he didn’t feel nearly rested enough to face the day as of yet. He closed his eyes again, hoping that whoever rapped at his door would soon leave him be.
Moments later, the knock sounded again, louder and more insistent than the time before.
Uncoordinatedly, Simon reached toward his pocket watch resting on the nightstand beside his bed. For a moment, he considered reaching past the watch toward the silver-plated revolver that lay beyond it, but he thought better of it. Tilting the watch toward him, he saw that it was barely past six in the morning. At most, he had been asleep for four hours.
With a groan, Simon slid his legs over the
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