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

her.”
    “Sir, I won’t tell you again.”
    Before Simon could reply, the dressing room door opened. The dark-haired beauty from the stage stood in the doorway. Her lithe frame was graced with a silk robe that hung only to her knees. The thin fabric clung to her curves as she leaned against the doorframe.
    “It’s perfectly all right, Marcus,” Veronica said, placing her hand on the bouncer’s shoulder. “Simon is an old friend.”
    The bouncer glanced at Simon before begrudgingly stepping aside. Simon nodded politely, swallowing his desire to smile smugly as he passed the brutish man.
    The Inquisitor stepped through the doorway as Veronica retreated inside. He gently pushed the door closed on the small dressing room, allowing them a small iota of privacy.
    The room was busy, with an assortment of barely concealing outfits hung on hooks along the wall. A small bench seat was pressed against one wall while a well-lit vanity sat against the other. The large mirror, framed in naked light bulbs, offered the faintest illusion that the room was in fact larger than it really was, but the illusion was fleeting. With Veronica standing in the center of the room, there was barely room for Simon to maneuver without pressing against her body, which he believed was entirely the point.
    Veronica threw her arms around Simon’s neck and drew him into a kiss. He could feel her smooth lips pressing against his as he slipped his hands around her waist.
    They stood pressed together for an eternity before Veronica drew slowly away. She smiled and withdrew an arm from around his neck. With her free hand, she wiped away a smear of lipstick that had spread across Simon’s lips during their embrace.
    “I’ve missed you,” she said. “Callifax is boring without you around.”
    Simon smiled. “Nothing about you is boring, my love.”
    Veronica smiled coyly. “Perhaps, but it’s far more entertaining with you around. Anyway, boring is relative. You might think that what I do is exciting, but while I’m working, you’re hunting werewolves and demons. It hardly seems fair.”
    Simon arched an eyebrow. “Would you prefer to be hunting magical monsters in the countryside?”
    “Of course not.” She laughed. “Can you imagine me carrying a gun and hunting beasts? I get squeamish merely seeing still-feathered chickens hanging by their necks in the marketplace. Cherish the thought of me on a hunting expedition.”
    “Oh, I most certainly do cherish that thought,” Simon joked.
    Veronica pulled her other arm from around Simon’s neck and leaned back against the vanity’s sole chair. The thin robe parted faintly in the front, leaving little to Simon’s imagination.
    “I do hunt, though the beast is much more cunning,” she cooed. She reached forward with her hand and grasped Simon’s belt. Her nimble fingers worked at its clasp.
    Simon gently moved her hand aside. “Not here, darling. I do so hate mixing work and pleasure.”
    Veronica sighed and pulled her robe closed. “My prey is also clearly much more elusive.”
    Simon laughed as he stepped closer, wrapping his hands around her waist and kissing her on the neck. “I’m hardly playing hard to get. I’m merely waiting for more comfortable surroundings.”
    She placed her hands on his chest and joined his laugher. “What would the other Inquisitors think if they could see you now? The debonair man seducing a burlesque dancer hardly seems like proper Inquisitor behavior.”
    “You sound very much like Luthor, you know?” he asked, frowning. “There’s a misconception that Inquisitors are upstanding citizens and above reproach merely because of the work we do. That simply isn’t so. We’re all fallible; we all have our vices, some more than others.”
    “Am I your vice, then?”
    “One of many, my dear,” Simon replied, “but certainly the most enjoyable.”
    “Speaking of Mr. Strong, did I read in your last letter that he has brought home a woman from your last