Read Online Wolves of the Northern Rift (A Magic & Machinery Novel Book 1) by Jon Messenger - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jon Messenger
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the worked stone tunnels we passed through after we left the zeppelin.”
Luthor smiled as they reached the bottom of the stairs. “Then I guess it wasn’t a totally wasted trip.”
“Go get some rest. I have the feeling that tomorrow is going to be a hard day for us beyond the wall.”
It was late at night when someone knocked loudly on Luthor’s door. The apothecary buttoned the sleeves of his nightshirt and pulled the bedroom door closed behind him as he hurried toward the front entrance to his suite. The curved glass of the peephole rested right at his eye level, and he peered through it. The hallway beyond was distorted but the well-dressed man on the other side was unmistakable. Luthor frowned as the Inquisitor leaned down toward the peephole, peering back through at Luthor. The warped lens made Simon’s eye appear disproportionate to the rest of his face and elongated his narrow moustache.
With a sigh, Luthor pulled open the door.
“Sir, it’s very late. Why are you knocking on my door at such an obscene hour?”
Simon rocked back on his heels so he wasn’t stooped at a peephole that was no longer in front of his face. He smiled disarmingly at his friend. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“Neither can I, apparently,” Luthor replied dryly.
“Good.” Simon walked past his friend as though he had been invited inside.
“Please come in,” the apothecary said after the fact. “What brings you to my room in the middle of the night?”
“Do you mind if I sit?”
Luthor motioned toward the couch. “Make yourself at home. Since we’re both up, would you care for a drink?”
“Scotch, please. Better make it two fingers worth.”
Luthor arched his eyebrow as he walked to the wet bar against the far wall. “Two fingers? It must be something serious on your mind.”
“I honestly don’t know if it’s important or not, but I trust your advice on the matter. That is, if you have time of course.”
“Clearly I have nothing but time,” Luthor said as he poured drinks for them both. He carried the glasses over and handed one to Simon before taking a seat in one of the armchairs across from the sofa. “What’s bothering you?”
Simon wrinkled his nose as a foul smell drifted past him. It was a similar sulfur smell to the one he had noticed coming from Luthor’s room before. “That scent still lingers. It’s horrific. Could the maids not get the smell of the broken vial out of your room?”
Luthor shrugged and looked toward his closed bedroom door. “They tried, but the smell is persistent.”
“And horrific. Did I mention horrific?”
Luthor smiled and tried to get the conversation back on track. “You were about to tell me about what bothered you.”
“We’ve been partners for nearly a year now, and everything we’ve seen can be easily explained as the shenanigans of a few men,” Simon replied as he swirled the ice cubes in his drink. “This case, however, feels different.”
“You’re bothered by the idea that this case could be real?”
Simon stopped swirling his glass and looked up at his friend. “Aren’t you? Doesn’t it frighten you in the least that werewolves could have infiltrated our borders? It scares me something awful to think that this may be a precursor of something far worse.”
Luthor leaned forward in his armchair, resting his elbows on his knees. “What if it is real? We wouldn’t be the first Inquisitors to locate a real magical threat. The simple fact that the threats exist at all is why the Order of the Kinder Pel remains so powerful. They may be uncouth in their methods but there isn’t a magical threat or malady that remains once they arrive.”
Simon frowned and leaned back into the cushioned couch. “Little remains after the Kinder Pel finish, mystical or mortal either one.”
“Is that what’s bothering you as well?”
“If I send a telegram confirming the existence of werewolves in Haversham without being able to confirm that the threat
Luthor smiled as they reached the bottom of the stairs. “Then I guess it wasn’t a totally wasted trip.”
“Go get some rest. I have the feeling that tomorrow is going to be a hard day for us beyond the wall.”
It was late at night when someone knocked loudly on Luthor’s door. The apothecary buttoned the sleeves of his nightshirt and pulled the bedroom door closed behind him as he hurried toward the front entrance to his suite. The curved glass of the peephole rested right at his eye level, and he peered through it. The hallway beyond was distorted but the well-dressed man on the other side was unmistakable. Luthor frowned as the Inquisitor leaned down toward the peephole, peering back through at Luthor. The warped lens made Simon’s eye appear disproportionate to the rest of his face and elongated his narrow moustache.
With a sigh, Luthor pulled open the door.
“Sir, it’s very late. Why are you knocking on my door at such an obscene hour?”
Simon rocked back on his heels so he wasn’t stooped at a peephole that was no longer in front of his face. He smiled disarmingly at his friend. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“Neither can I, apparently,” Luthor replied dryly.
“Good.” Simon walked past his friend as though he had been invited inside.
“Please come in,” the apothecary said after the fact. “What brings you to my room in the middle of the night?”
“Do you mind if I sit?”
Luthor motioned toward the couch. “Make yourself at home. Since we’re both up, would you care for a drink?”
“Scotch, please. Better make it two fingers worth.”
Luthor arched his eyebrow as he walked to the wet bar against the far wall. “Two fingers? It must be something serious on your mind.”
“I honestly don’t know if it’s important or not, but I trust your advice on the matter. That is, if you have time of course.”
“Clearly I have nothing but time,” Luthor said as he poured drinks for them both. He carried the glasses over and handed one to Simon before taking a seat in one of the armchairs across from the sofa. “What’s bothering you?”
Simon wrinkled his nose as a foul smell drifted past him. It was a similar sulfur smell to the one he had noticed coming from Luthor’s room before. “That scent still lingers. It’s horrific. Could the maids not get the smell of the broken vial out of your room?”
Luthor shrugged and looked toward his closed bedroom door. “They tried, but the smell is persistent.”
“And horrific. Did I mention horrific?”
Luthor smiled and tried to get the conversation back on track. “You were about to tell me about what bothered you.”
“We’ve been partners for nearly a year now, and everything we’ve seen can be easily explained as the shenanigans of a few men,” Simon replied as he swirled the ice cubes in his drink. “This case, however, feels different.”
“You’re bothered by the idea that this case could be real?”
Simon stopped swirling his glass and looked up at his friend. “Aren’t you? Doesn’t it frighten you in the least that werewolves could have infiltrated our borders? It scares me something awful to think that this may be a precursor of something far worse.”
Luthor leaned forward in his armchair, resting his elbows on his knees. “What if it is real? We wouldn’t be the first Inquisitors to locate a real magical threat. The simple fact that the threats exist at all is why the Order of the Kinder Pel remains so powerful. They may be uncouth in their methods but there isn’t a magical threat or malady that remains once they arrive.”
Simon frowned and leaned back into the cushioned couch. “Little remains after the Kinder Pel finish, mystical or mortal either one.”
“Is that what’s bothering you as well?”
“If I send a telegram confirming the existence of werewolves in Haversham without being able to confirm that the threat
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