ã€ŠInfernal Investigationsã€‹


 Chapter 1 - A Choice In Customers

    Negotiating prices of solutions and tinctures always tended to bring out the worst in people. Often, it resulted in the raving lunatics who were my customers pressing the muzzle of a gun against my head.

    Case in point: Lord Batholemew Alvoneas Montague V, whose revolver trembled only inches away from my forehead. His watery grey eyes were steel in their focus, and his thick black mustache vibrated in rage as the muzzle of his pistol shook inches in front of my face.

    My expression frozen, I waited for his lordship to speak. An errant word from me could provoke him into firing the gun. Both my hands were already above the table, shaking a little bit. My tail twitched, and I forced it still as well. Reaching under the table for a weapon would result in that bullet as well.

    We had been sitting in a private booth in the Hell¡¯s Own tavern, a place where my kind was expected. Lord Montague¡¯s kind did not publicly visit here. Lord Montague himself preferred not to come here at all, was what I¡¯d gathered from our little chat. The idea of being in a place as seedy as this seemed almost as painful as dealing with an Infernal from his tone preceding the gun.

    And that was just the nobles who chose to pay the fees to be brought through the tunnels connected to the cellar instead of walking in through the back door.

    The private rooms were soundproofed and hidden from the eyes of the public. Thus, they made for an excellent place for the rich and famous to rub elbows with those whose services they may need but who publicly they could not be seen with. Such as a rather dashing young alchemist with a somewhat sketchy reputation and an evident touch of the Infernal in her ancestry bearing the name Falara Merotien.

    Of course that same privacy made them the perfect place to commit a murder. Could a gunshot be heard from in here? Not something I wanted to test.

    Finally, his lordship spoke.

    ¡°You cannot seriously expect me to even consider what you said,¡± he snarled.

    I sipped some water, the only drink I¡¯d brought into the booth. The surface of the water shook as I tried to force my hand still. I could not betray that my instincts screamed to bite into his lordship¡¯s hand before he could pull the trigger.

    ¡°You don¡¯t agree with my price, mi¡¯lord?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Agree with?¡± His pistol moved forward, the tip now pressing into my crimson skin between my horns. He practically roared his next sentence. ¡°I come here asking for help saving my son¡¯s life, and you set a price that high? Lower it, you shameless creature!¡±

    I set my drink down on the table, eyes fixed on his. Tone casual as much as I could force it, I replied.

    ¡°While I am open to negotiations, Lord Montague, I don¡¯t particularly enjoy it with a pistol pressed against my head. Furthermore, what will you do if you pull the trigger? I did not bring the elixir with me, and besides, violating the rules of this establishment is likely to land you in a world of trouble. It will take time to find my body, but how long ''til they find it? How much bribe money will that be to the owners to cover up my death? And do you think you can find a better price in the city? Mayhap the empire but that¡¯s a long distance to travel. Again, please lower your pistol.¡±

    A second passed by, then two, and then the tip of the pistol left my skin.

    I resisted the urge to let out a breath. There was no need to let Lord Montague know how concerned I had actually been.

    His shoulders slumped and his expression fell as he sat back down across from me. We were now at eye level once again. My current height was much shorter than his lordship¡¯s for now. Craning my neck back to look him in the eyes had begun to feel painful.

    Not as painful as being shot would have been, of course.

    I could, conceivably, survive a gunshot to the head. The odds were about the same as surviving being stabbed two dozen times. The chances were not good I¡¯d live past the first ten minutes, and even then, it would be likely to leave damage that would take weeks to heal. But the threat was gone.

    For now at least. The gun still remained in his hand, which trembled as little as my own had just moments ago.

    Since he didn¡¯t seem interested in speaking yet, I filled the silence. ¡°I do have shame, my lord, just not over this. You want an elixir for a particularly rare poison, and you want delivery in utmost secrecy. I can guarantee both and am charging what I consider a fair price for it. Do you know how rare this elixir¡¯s ingredients are? They are rare enough that me already possessing a dose is a rather fortunate coincidence for you.¡±

    I doubted he was that favored by the deities. The elixir he wanted was commissioned by another noble several weeks back. Word would have traveled in those circles, which is why he approached me.

    Best not to mention this poison tended to ravage the mind even if cured. Not badly, but cases of changed personalities after fighting it off did happen often enough.

    Resentment and resignation colored his lordship¡¯s face, joining an ever-present disgust that had been in his expression since he sat down. ¡°There¡¯s no scenario in which you¡¯ll negotiate the price down?¡±

    ¡°I am willing to negotiate it down, although I will note I¡¯m already not charging high above what this cost me. And threatening me with a gun will make me less inclined to negotiate.¡±

    I was lying about the price. I was charging about four times what it had cost. But he had the money to buy it easily, and considering he lived in the Gilded Quarter while I was scraping by in the bowels of the Infernal Quarter, I didn¡¯t feel much sympathy.

    ¡°You charged Lady Kasrin a quarter that price for the same mixture a month ago, you greedy little fork-tongued snake,¡± he said in a resigned voice. ¡°The only reason I didn¡¯t blow your brains out, is that even if I did how long till you end up with whatever succubus spawned you down in the hells, doing the same work alongside her?¡±

    My saber rested in my coat, as well as pistols and poisoned daggers and flasks. I could have any of them in my hand in a second, and with this little worm¡¯s head opened up. I¡¯d use his brain to concoct a poison to ram down his spawn¡¯s throat myse-

    Calm yourself Malvia, I told myself. He wasn¡¯t a threat.

    I resisted the urge to flick said forked tongue out at him while I stuffed the rest of my rage far down. I couldn¡¯t let the jab nettle me. If I felt irritation at everyone who slandered my heritage or my mother, I¡¯d barely be able to take a step outside without my skin itching.

    ¡°You don¡¯t mean that, your lordship. You¡¯re frustrated, which is understandable, but from my point of view I am only charging a fair price. Also, my mother was a fine young woman of the mortal realms, and wherever her soul resides, I am assured mine will not join it,¡± I said. ¡°I will let the digs at my heritage pass without raising the price further. I¡¯ll even try not to be insulted at such slander. But let¡¯s leave our respective families out of this matter?¡±

    Partially a lie, implying my mother was not alive still. My mother was alive, well, and as far removed from tonight¡¯s activities as I could make her. 1143 West Endings was as far from this quarter as you could get in terms of class.

    ¡°Slander?¡± His lordship¡¯s face was losing the signs of resignation. Unfortunately it was gaining the signs of anger instead as some fire returned to his voice. That and the ever-present disgust.

    ¡°Slander. I am descended of the hells, but it¡¯s no reason to cast aspersions on me. As for your increased price, Lady Karsin may have mentioned her monetary payments, but I doubt she informed you of additional payments she made in things other than gold itself.¡±

    If anything, the disgusted look on his face only got worse.

    ¡°I had no idea Lady Karsin had such proclivities.¡±

    This one had a filthy mind, apparently. ¡°Not of that nature. Something else. Would you please put the pistol away?¡±

    ¡°Once you start talking sense on the price,¡± he insisted.

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°If you¡¯ll let me draw mine as well,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯d prefer no weapons on the table at all, but if you insist on holding onto it, well I might as well have something to secure my own safety. It only seems fair.¡±

    He considered the pistol, gave me a suspicious look. I gave him my best smile in response. No teeth showing, of course. Universally, most people didn¡¯t like people with fangs grinning at them.

    He eventually put the pistol away, then quietly said ¡°I might have stepped out of line. I sincerely hope that it hasn¡¯t given you the wrong impression of me.¡±

    That sounded more sincere than anything else he¡¯d said so far. ¡°Not at all, mi¡¯lord,¡± I said with a small grin. ¡°If I refused to deal with any client who threatened me with physical violence, I would not have as many. I¡¯ve just learned not to take it personally.¡±

    He sighed, considering the ceiling for a moment. ¡°I can offer you a quarter of your asking price. What did Lady Karsin offer to you?¡±

    ¡°Alchemical ingredients, equipment, and a few other odds and ends of monetary value worth the difference between your two prices.¡±

    He seemed lost in thought for a moment before life came back to his eyes. ¡°I¡¯m not really in the alchemical trade, although I might have something just as useful. Respectability. I have a fourth son, Gregory, who is hale, polite, and a bachelor of some repute. I could arrange you two to court for a time. He¡¯s very good at impressing the ladies, and depending on adjustments on your part, there may even be a chance of a formal engagement.¡±

    I forced a smile. The Lord Montague, besides being incensed over my increased demands for payment, seemed to have his mind mainly focused on sex. I didn¡¯t particularly care for him keeping his mind there, especially in terms of negotiations.

    The dating and potential marriage proposal was even more nauseating. This Gregory must not rank among his father¡¯s favorites if Lord Montague entertained the idea of him being seen in public with me. Altogether a different attitude than the eldest he was visiting me in secret to treat. And I had no doubts what the ¡®adjustments¡¯ he might be thinking of would be.

    I¡¯d already gone through enough of those simply to look more presentable to human eyes, and those were both expensive to maintain and temporary. I knew what kind he¡¯d ask for and the direction they¡¯d take.

    And that was all ignoring the fact I didn¡¯t particularly want to go out with someone forced to go with me. It would be unlikely to end well, but was Lord Montague insinuating this was the only way I could have a date with a pure-blood human?

    He¡¯d already done enough to make my gut swirl. It was time to get him focused.

    ¡°I would have to decline that offer respectfully. I would always accept a favor instead,¡± I said. ¡°Would that be acceptable?¡±

    I suspected it would not be. The brief paling of face before he recomposed himself confirmed that suspicion.

    Figured. One so eager to believe the worst of my heritage would buy into all the rumors of what we did with such things as favors. He probably thought I¡¯d make a tonic out of his intestine or rope him into summoning a demon into the city.

    It was tempting. There wouldn¡¯t be a magical hold like he probably imagined, but I¡¯d learned at a young age how much of a motivator fear could be. I was not very good at unlearning it.

    He recomposed himself, thinking. ¡°Not a favor. I could recommend you to others for similar situations? I know people far beyond the reach of Lady Karsin who are also interested in an alchemist with access to materials most can¡¯t get and who also knows to keep their mouth shut.¡±

    I frowned. ¡°I prefer payment in material goods, Mi¡¯lord. Much less ambiguity and lower chances of one or both parties feeling cheated. Exposure is¡­I am trusting your word on that. I have my limits on how much I trust people, especially after what you¡¯ve said and done so far. My inclination is firmly no.¡±

    Exposure would not be much of an additional payment. Anyone much higher than Lord Montague in the ranks of nobility probably already had alchemists they either knew or retained for that purpose. I was lucky that Lord Montague had a son who was poisoned, and that his lordship wanted no one to know he had almost died.

    And I wanted, no, needed to break into this rung of society. Despite my earlier thought, his idea might be more worthwhile than my gut reaction had thought. Exposure was a payment for fools, but if it was the limit of his resources, it might be all I could get. I couldn¡¯t say that out loud, of course. Pressuring him on this price might get something additional for my accounts. If I simply played aggressively with the negotiations-

    My thoughts were broken by the sound of crying.

    To my shock and mild disgust, while I¡¯d been mulling over that in my head, Lord Montague had started weeping. Not the kind employed on the stage either, full-on sniffling and near-bawling.

    ¡°Please. I know I said unkind things, but he¡¯s my first son. I can¡¯t let him die. I just don¡¯t have the cash on hand to pay your asking price. Most of my funds are tied up, they take time to make liquid.¡±

    He seemed genuinely upset and desperate, or he was well-practiced enough to hide the insincerity of his attempt to tug on my heartstrings.

    I hadn¡¯t had my ability to feel emotions replaced yet, as some actually did, but even so, it wasn¡¯t a particularly moving scene. The man in front of me made more in a day than I did most years. My recent fortune in clients didn¡¯t mean I was willing to be charitable with them yet. And the argument that he didn¡¯t have that much money on hand stank of someone who simply didn¡¯t want to pay.

    I was running the risk of alienating him entirely. Lady Karsin¡¯s reach alone wouldn¡¯t be enough. Her and Lord Montague together would be a good stepping stone. I wanted repeat customers. Preferably ones less willing to call me slurs.

    At a bare minimum, this would still pay for six months'' worth of expenses for me.

    ¡°Fine. A quarter of what I suggested, in addition to your recommendation of my services.¡± I proffered my hand. ¡°I¡¯d also like an advance of two hundred gold sovereigns.¡±

    He eyed my hand with a mixture of revulsion, fear, and hope. Eventually, he shook it.

    As soon as he let go, I retrieved a trio of vials from my coat. Each contained purple liquid, a mixture of Frost Tips and the blood of Liondogs I¡¯d found in the Underground.

    ¡°Take these. They¡¯ll halt any degeneration your heir may be suffering and give him some strength back. One each night as the sun sets, at most an hour after he¡¯s eaten. He should be able to speak normally and regain control of his body. That does not mean he should be doing anything physically strenuous. He should stay in bed, and don¡¯t let him convince you otherwise. If his condition worsens while on this, send for me immediately.¡±

    Lord Montague frowned, picking up one of the bottles. The only sign of his weeping was a slight puffiness around his eyes. ¡°You can¡¯t give me the cure right away?¡±

    ¡°If he¡¯s as you described, I need him strong enough to survive the cure. Angel¡¯s Sorrow isn¡¯t a common poison, nor is it easy to cure. The cure¡¯s not a pleasant mixture, and if he¡¯s too far in the poison¡¯s grip, the war between it and the elixir will kill him. Don¡¯t feed him anything too rich. Plain foods, three times a day. Chicken, fish, or lizard for protein. Plenty of greens. Also water. It¡¯s going to go straight through at first, but his retention should improve as these take effect. No alcohol or any of those exotic drinks they¡¯ve been marketing around.¡±

    He grimaced, uneasily looking at the preparations ¡°He¡¯s had issues keeping his food down. That¡¯s why I need the cure so desperately, he hasn¡¯t eaten in three days.¡±

    ¡°That might actually help, depending on how the poison got to him. If it¡¯s in his food, it might have lowered the overall dosage. That¡¯ll help some. Have someone you trust prepare his meals. Keep it to small meals, bland foods. Crackers, potatoes, toast with no butter. And keep him well-guarded. It¡¯s a very rare poison your son¡¯s been given. And a second case so soon after Lady Karsin¡¯s.¡±

    Lord Montague¡¯s face shifted, any emotion draining off of it. ¡°We are both aware. And we are withholding that information from you. You are being hired for one purpose, and frankly only because you know to keep your mouth shut.¡±

    I smiled peaceably. ¡°Hardly an issue. Just an observation. You should keep your guard up, though. This elixir isn¡¯t easy to obtain the ingredients for. I have three doses left, then it¡¯s either to another alchemist or hope that adventurers bring back more samples. One second.¡±

    Honestly, it was lucky that I did have these elixirs. I¡¯d hardly expected a drake to die or for their corpse to be so poorly guarded. Whoever had been in charge of funeral preparations for the Honorable Millicent Ferguseous Valicent was probably getting a lashing. Or possibly getting eaten. Some draconic bloodlines still lived in centuries past.

    Not that I cared too much. It barely scratched my conscience to extract her brain and carve it up. I¡¯d done much worse in my time.

    I looked through my bag, looking for the packet I¡¯d put in here. It always paid to appear generous. I pulled it out, a small bag with perhaps three teaspoons of a dried grey powder.

    ¡°Consider this free of charge, your lordship. It¡¯ll react to the poison. Just sprinkle a little in to test food and water. It should be safe for your son¡¯s consumption.¡±

    Lord Montague frowned, eyeing the packet suspiciously. ¡°Should be?¡±

    ¡°Unless he has divine blood in his veins, he should be.¡±

    He sat back, expression contemplative. ¡°My great-grandfather claimed in the past we were descended from an angel, but no one could ever prove it.¡±

    ¡°That far back would be too diluted for an effect to occur. I¡¯ll have the elixir ready at an address I will provide you in three days. Send someone with a message marked by your seal, with the full payment as well.¡±

    ¡°Is the seal necessary?¡±

    ¡°It is.¡± He was thinking of the risk of dealing with me being traced back to him. I was thinking of my first year of this when a client had sent someone to collect their order, then later claimed I had given it to a stranger and refused to pay me. Since then, I only handed off goods to people who could prove they worked for my customers.

    Lord Montague grabbed the vials and packet, withdrawing a small box from within his coat. He secured them in the box.

    He didn¡¯t seem entirely happy as he locked the box shut. ¡°If he worsens before this preparation you¡¯ve given me is complete¡­.¡±

    ¡°Then send someone to my address,¡± I said. ¡°We can risk the cure if there is no time left. If he is unresponsive for more than eighteen hours, send for me. Until then, he should be fine.¡±

    That assuaged him a little, but his gaze focused on mine, suspicion gathering in his expression. ¡°I am risking more than just my heir¡¯s life dealing with you, Infernal. If you are either tricking me or playing with me, I will make you pay. It won¡¯t matter what hole you crawl in, my servants will drag you out and make you beg for a bullet over the tortures I¡¯ll inflict on you. You are sure these will make him better?¡±

    I smiled. ¡°Not to worry, my lord. I can guarantee that they will work wonders, or my name is not Falara.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t, of course, but if I¡¯d said my real name, I was quite sure Lord Montague would put a bullet between my eyes.

 Chapter 2 - Hells Own

    I walked out of the private booth with a spring in my step, and not the kind that was becoming popular to install in both legs.

    I was in a small corridor, the doors to the private booths lining both sides of it. To my right, Lord Montague¡¯s bodyguard and a stone wall. To my left, the sound of a tavern in the middle of a busy afternoon. We must have been the only ones using a booth right now.

    Despite the emptiness of the booths, given the noise of conversation and general raucousness, the Hells¡¯ Own was rather busy. Even for a time when most would be working, Hells'' Own never failed to attract customers. An establishment that had been here when I was born and would probably be long after I died, and I went to serve some damned prince in the Hells.

    The entire tavern¡¯s structure was stone, polished marble on most surfaces, and granite where you weren¡¯t likely to see it. It was a necessity after the previous four Hells'' Owns burned to the ground. It was a testament to everyone¡¯s collective idiocy that it had taken that long to realize that even a partially wooden tavern was not the best idea around those descended from Hells'' lines.

    Behind me, Lord Montague¡¯s appearance had already been changed to a much different person. Stooped, grey-haired, and an extra hundred pounds on his frame, he bore a fair bit of resemblance to Lord Thierry. Lord Montague¡¯s pick of who to disguise himself as was as petty as I expected. Lord Thierry, if the rumor mill was accurate, still nursed a grudge against Lord Montague for the crime of having married his daughter. Not fleshshifting, Lord Montague must be using an illusion, either cracking open a one-use spell or a more permanent version latched onto an item. An effective defense against anyone trying to sneak a peek.

    It was difficult to see inside the booths from the main tavern, but when you have a reputation on the line, it pays to be paranoid. I was just beginning to amass a positive one for myself.

    ¡°Pleasure doing business with you again, my lord,¡± I said, curtsying.

    The face drew itself up into a smile, but the eyes definitely did not match. Oh, if his Lordship possessed even an ounce of magical talent, I might very well be dead.

    Such a pity all your wealth and class cannot purchase you that, Lord Montague.

    The door hurriedly slid shut, leaving me facing an intricately carved series of woodcuts.

    Lord Montague would not take the door, of course. There was a hatch in the booth that would lead to the tunnels underground, along with probably a much larger group of bodyguards than up here.

    Drawing myself up from my curtsy, I turned my recovery into a spin on my hooves to face the Lord¡¯s bodyguard. ¡°Should I move out of your way to get out, or are you capable of it on your own, my fine sir?¡±

    The bodyguard outside the door gave me a scornful glare. Enhanced, probably through alchemy or sculpting, the human was taller and broader than most natural-born orcs. His arms were easily the size of most people¡¯s heads. A rifle resembling a small cannon and a saber the size of a greatsword tied to his flank.

    Whoever had done his modifications was either an amateur or exploiting nobles with little idea of how sculpting worked. This much muscle mass and likely an expanded skeleton to keep it all able to function, with organs enlarged to match? Not only was there so much that could go wrong in the process, it was prohibitively expensive. It would be much easier to employ an orc, an ogre, or one of a dozen races and use them as the baseline.

    Then again, given his master, not looking at all like a non-human was probably a perk.

    He didn¡¯t bother to check on Lord Montague or even answer me, already heading for the exit. My scramble to escape ahead of him before I got crushed between his bulk and the wall might have seemed undignified to the untrained eye. I moved swiftly to the side as he continued past, not really caring who was in his way.

    Likely a mental link to his master as well, to be kept outside the booth. A wide berth cleared in his path, a few jeers thrown his way from patrons far enough away not to worry about attracting his wrath. The disruption caused in his wake did not last long once he was heading out the door, leaving me alone to make my exit.

    The common room was host to an assortment of infernal-blooded coming for relaxation, a drink, some time away from their troubles, or to meet with others. An occasional sprinkling of humans, gnomes, and others. Typically, those with business here in the quarter enjoying a moment in one of the safer places in the Infernal Quarter.

    I weaved my way through packed-together tables on the one open floor, flowing through the seated crowd. More floors lay currently unused this early in the day up above, waiting to fill the establishment to capacity.

    Someone tried to slap my rear, only for my tail to intercede on my behalf, wrapping around their wrist. Barely paying attention, I redirected the offending limb to slap its owner across the face. I spared barely a glance for the violet-skinner with four horns now being laughed at by her friends over the failed attempt. I was more focused on an actual potential threat.

    Eight of them clustered around a table that never went unoccupied, overcoats covering what would surely be an arsenal. Most of them were deep in their cups already, only two alert. A flaming goat¡¯s head had been cut into each of their right arms. Local gang members would come to Hells'' Own on occasion, but only Versalicci¡¯s stayed in the inn all hours of the day.

    The two sentries glared at me as I walked past, but no other reaction. Good.

    I¡¯d considered leaving immediately, but on second thought, perhaps a few moments in here wouldn¡¯t be uncalled for. I might as well pay Tolman for keeping an eye on Lord Montague¡¯s bodyguard, visit Edwards at the bar, and get a drink as well. Tolman wouldn¡¯t mind waiting a few days for payment, but best to get it handled now.

    I made my way to the bartender, past the same violet-skinned as before who kept her hands to herself this time. She did have the decency to look apologetic.

    She had the green coat of the imperial regiments on, as did most of the tavern, which wasn¡¯t a shock. With the campaigns in Avenland winding down, regiments had been rotating out of the conflict back home.

    Most others had at least restrained themselves to looks and a few whistles. I forced a smile as I walked past. It wasn¡¯t worth starting a fight over, I told myself. It was infuriating, but confronting them over it could just result in a fight with a whole squad of people trained in violence. I swallowed my pride and marked the table to be given a far berth on my way out of Hells'' Own.

    That was not the reaction I was looking for from anyone. I couldn¡¯t tell if it was just being one of the few nicely dressed people here or if I¡¯d overdone it on the sculpting earlier.

    I¡¯d touched up my Falara disguise, just slight modifications to gain any edge I could. I couldn¡¯t stray too far from the form I¡¯d established as Falara, or it would draw attention. I was still recognizably her, just with a few little tweaks. Toning down my fiendish traits had been the correct call with Lord Montague.

    ¡°Miss Falara,¡± the bartender greeted me. ¡°I presume your meeting went well?¡±

    ¡°Mr. Edwards,¡± I replied. ¡°You presume correctly. I thank you for letting me rent one of your private booths. Are there any issues underground?¡±

    ¡°None. I heard from my staff just a few seconds ago. Your client took his entourage and left. Seemed rather upset, but that¡¯s not unusual. Anything else I can do for you today?¡±

    Edward Edwards. Either a fake name or very unimaginative parents. For the bartender and owner of a bar named for the hells and often serving those who could trace their lineage back to it, Edward didn¡¯t show any sign of the Infernal¡¯s touch. He was, I was quite sure, human.

    Well, at a minimum, he wasn¡¯t Infernal. Bald head, big mustache, the kind of face you wanted to tell your life story to, and the ear to listen to it. I¡¯d never seen any signs of them, but at times, I wondered if the good Mr. Edwards had more than a bit of biosculpting done.

    One of the dangers of our craft, doing both biosculpting and alchemy, you wondered if someone¡¯s natural appearance was too good to be true.

    ¡°Another draft of my usual order, Mr. Edwards. Actually, perhaps a little stronger this time?¡±

    ¡°A little stronger will cost you a little extra.¡±

    I was well aware, and I usually wouldn¡¯t pay for Edward to water down his product slightly less. However, I needed something to take my mind off that latest meeting. I¡¯d pursued a higher class of clientele to have weapons pointed at me less often, not more.

    ¡°I¡¯ll pay. Double the usual amount.¡±

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    He was already filling a tankard partway full of mead. I fished through my coin purse for coinage. I wouldn¡¯t use Lord Montague¡¯s advance to pay anyone but Tolman today. There was no need to tip people off about my newfound wealth.

    I had retrieved the correct amount by the time he moved the tankard to a series of pipes. He opened one up and let it fill the tankard the rest of the way up.

    In seconds, I had a full tankard in front of me, and I enjoyed the aroma for a few moments before taking a drink. The honey tone of mead mixed to form a most delightful taste with the searing flavoring of sulfur added as an additive.

    Sulfur hit stronger than most forms of alcohol and tasted like Heaven poured into a bottle. Ironic. No one was quite sure exactly why, like many of the questions that had seen Infernal-bloods cut open over the centuries to answer.

    While I enjoyed my drink, Edwards started talking again.

    ¡°The bodyguard spent most of the time sitting outside your private booth looking bored. At the end there, he looked as uncomfortable as could be.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d imagine so. Harsh words were traded, and the Lord made a not-very-subtle threat on my life. Either his lordship was loud enough for his bodyguard to hear, or they had some other form of communication.¡±

    ¡°You sure that¡¯s something you should be saying to me? I doubt his lordship would appreciate others saying he¡¯s in the habit of threatening those he¡¯s dealing with.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I always like to toss you a juicy piece of gossip as a little bit of extra payment, Edward. Besides, one time is hardly a habit.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t anything Edward didn¡¯t already know. I didn''t doubt the soundproofing of the booths. Edward would swiftly be out of business if that ever came into doubt. But someone watching through a hidden viewing port to keep an eye on the occupants? Much more likely.

    I took a few more swallows of the sulfured mead, then put the tankard and some more coins on the counter.

    ¡°Refill if you don¡¯t mind, Mr. Edwards. Your tip is in there as well.¡±

    He counted the coinage quickly. ¡°One refill coming right up. You¡¯re a much better tipper than you used to be.¡±

    Ah. Not good. I instructed the nerves under my skin to keep the smile on my face there.

    ¡°Really? How so?¡±

    ¡°When you first came here a few years ago, you tipped poorly. It¡¯s increased the longer you¡¯ve come, though.¡±

    I released my hold on the nerves and let the smile become natural instead. ¡°I suppose I have. Well, good service over the years begets a better tip, and a wealthier clientele means more to tip with.¡±

    Edwards chuckled, and I left, perhaps a bit too eager to get away from the bartender. I forced my step to slow as I approached a table near the private booths.

    At it, another Infernal-blooded appeared to be fast asleep. His face wasn¡¯t visible, obscured by long red hair and a heavy overcoat. Most of his clothing was baggy, hiding the high-grade augments under his skin. Unlike the mutilated mangler of a man Lord Montague employed, his augmentations didn¡¯t alter his frame to the point of unnaturalness. As they should, considering who¡¯d sculpted them.

    I sat beside him, putting the full tankard by his side. His hand snapped to the handle while I rooted through Lord Montague¡¯s coin purse.

    ¡°That your pay, or did you nab something else off of him?¡± he rasped, voice sounding like it had been shredded on its way through his throat. His face was now visible, an infernal teetering in that space between youth and middle age, and still having some rakish charm from the original face.

    I¡¯d have given him more when making the modifications, but what the customer wants, the customer gets.

    ¡°Don¡¯t make insinuations that you know likely aren¡¯t true,¡± I replied. ¡°I run a business, Tolman. Not a scam or a pickpocketing ring. I have your pay and a little treat for you besides.¡±

    Tolman had already drained a third of the tankard before I finished.

    ¡°Either Edward is watering this swill down more than before or you take this far lighter than you used to. Where¡¯s your sense of taste, Falara?¡±

    ¡°Floating downriver for a few weeks now. Accompanied by my first liver. There¡¯s only so much sulfur and brimstone one can mix with alcohol before the effect is rendered meaningless, Tolman.¡±

    He considered my words, then cocked his head to the side. ¡°Nah. We talked enough about your poor taste in drinks. You got my coin for guarding you?¡±

    ¡°Well, he did threaten me in there, and I didn¡¯t see you entering, so I think a reduction in cost might be worth negotiating for.¡±

    He snorted, ¡°Your words were, and I quote, ¡®Keep an eye on the large one with the sword and rifle. If the bodyguard starts heading into the booth, handle him. If not, enjoy the most peaceful morning of your week.¡¯ So I figure I¡¯m owed my full payment.¡±

    ¡°Yes, yes. Allow me my jokes, Tolman?¡± I counted out the precise amount, hiding it behind my coat. Trading this much coin openly in Hells'' Own would invite attention I didn¡¯t want.

    ¡°This should cover us, in addition to a little extra. I want to attach a request to that bonus. Don¡¯t strain yourself too hard in the fighting pits, okay Tolman?¡±

    ¡°Worried I¡¯ll get injured?¡±

    ¡°Something like that. Also, I might have another job for you later this week.¡±

    I¡¯d probably visit Lord Montague¡¯s to make sure the elixir was working correctly. It would be unwise to step inside that man¡¯s house without some form of protection.

    ¡°I¡¯ll do my best to keep myself in one piece. No guarantees. Big prize purse coming up this week. Ironhand Jack¡¯s come back and has been working his way through the fighting pits. Got half a mind to send him back down to the bottom.¡±

    ¡°You think you can take him? Didn¡¯t he almost break your horn off last time you two brawled?¡±

    It had taken the better part of a week to get that repaired and new growth to fill in the parts ripped open by that blow. Keratin could be so much more difficult to work with than flesh, speaking as someone who¡¯d had their hooves stripped off more than once.

    ¡°I¡¯ve gotten better since then. He hadn¡¯t fought in three years until he decided to get back into the fights. He¡¯s got rust.¡±

    I clasped his hand in mine, handing off the coins in the same notion. ¡°Just promise to keep yourself safe?¡±

    ¡°If only you¡¯d cared this much in the past. See you around, Falara.¡±

    I didn¡¯t flinch despite the urge. Although it had been light-hearted, that statement about Falara contained too much truth. Both about her and my past as Malvia. I made a quick exit from the tavern.

    Above me, the fourth sun, Illvare, burned the same crimson edge around a black center it had since the Hells had been invaded, approaching two hundred years now. The further from the hells you traveled, the less of Ilvare was eaten by the Black. Here, which was the staging grounds for one of those invasions? The black center consumed nearly the entire sun.

    No clouds today, so you could see the two lines cutting the sky into quarters. The Two Rings, the two planets. Eternally rotating around the center of our little patch of space. Not worth looking at unless you liked being reminded how tiny you were, along for the ride on the surface of one of them.

    I checked to make sure the coin purse was securely hidden. It hurt to part with so many coins so soon after payment, but Tolman was worth every penny. When dealing with an unknown quantity, best to take every precaution. Still, every coin lost hurt.

    Refreshing my defensive spells, consulting with a few experts I knew, paying for more information on Lord Montague, renting the booth from Edward, Tolman¡¯s advance pay, all told it had devoured a third of my payment from Lady Karsin. The rest had already disappeared into my expenses. It had gotten tight.

    I¡¯d been unwise with my finances, chasing after upper-class, more reputable customers. Less time for smaller customers had put a strain on finances.

    I¡¯d spent a few days eating things even Lord Montague wouldn¡¯t believe Infernals would eat. But no more. It had finally paid off. Nestled inside my coat, in a hidden pocket, the advance payment was a sign of that turning around.

    I walked onto the streets of Avernon¡¯s Infernal Quarter and immediately nearly became crushed in the crowd. No carriage or automatons traveled these roads, but the sheer number of other Infernals packed the roads tight even then. Some of these roads hadn¡¯t been expanded since the Hells had invaded.

    We were a year and a half from the two-hundredth anniversary. No one would celebrate that bicentennial.

    Even two hundred years removed from it all, some wounds lay deep. First, the attempted colonization of the Hells, then the Hells colonizing back, the peace sealed by the Infernal Union, the rise of Her Most Profane Majesty, then her fall at the hands of her niece, the Shining Princess Alice.

    Speaking of her imperial majesty, while the crowd''s noise was overpowering, you could still hear bits of the criers yelling to sell their papers. Exaggerated as always, but I¡¯d heard a few words I hadn¡¯t liked.

    It took a while to get over to one and pay the young lad out of my regular coin purse, but soon I had the latest edition of the Globe to read.

    Let¡¯s see, tensions increasing with Dreuvia, the possibility of war, and increased conscription in the Infernal Quarter. I was likely safe thanks to the fake alchemy license I¡¯d bought, but I¡¯d need to figure out a way to cover for Tolman. His husband as well. That would mean more money to be spent while the Infernal Quarters were picked for frontline troops.

    We were still considered in many ways accountable for the Hells'' takeover of the empire. A mixture of those events and our ancestors, or parents in many cases including mine, being willing to be an Infernal. These days deals with the devils were banned so natural births were the most common. I suppose no one could expect the royal family¡¯s attitude toward us to change. Not while Empress Alice, once the Shining Princess, still sat on the throne.

    There wasn¡¯t much else in the paper I hadn¡¯t heard before. Rumors about a new case being taken up by Voltar and Dawes. I wished the worst of luck to those two. Articles on the new advances in clockworks. Those were becoming more common. A dragon sighting north of the city. That might be worth a trek to see if any materials could be scavenged. Even a dragon¡¯s castoffs could be powerful.

    Sighing, I prepared for today¡¯s trek. My apartment wasn¡¯t far away, but I¡¯d dressed up for this occasion. For the Infernal Quarter, this meant a dress and coat combination that might be good enough to sneak in as a servant at a Baronet¡¯s evening party. It did mean taking out all the places where it was likely to get me stabbed, half an hour''s trek at the shortest.

    Still, money in the pocket made for a lighter step, and I¡¯d already made it halfway down the street, sticking to the far sides. It put me closer to the alleys, always a danger, but I¡¯d honed my reflexes myself earlier today. The probably drunk violet-skinned from before had shown they¡¯d worked. Getting the jump on me was likely out of the reach of anyone who resorted to lurking in an alley.

    A shadow passed overhead, getting astonished gasps from those in the streets, most children. I looked up and saw a scaled body flying up in the sky. A drake, a minor cousin to dragons. Not an unusual sight in the city, but not for the Infernal Quarter. Mildly concerning, but they were not flying for my lab, so not having found out and seeking revenge for me harvesting the Honorable Millicent Ferguseous Valicent¡¯s brains for ingredients.

    ¡°Malvia,¡± someone hissed at me from an alley.

    My right hand immediately went to a knife hidden in my dress. My head snapped to the right.

    A green Infernal was in the alley, breathing deeply. Blood streamed from a dozen places, staining his trousers, shirt, and vest. A thin, gaunt face, with brown eyes and scars cutting across both cheeks stared at me, eyes desperate. Some of those were fresh, still bleeding. Ears cut down from past fights, thin tapering horns, a nose with a ring right through the middle. A flaming goat¡¯s head had been carved into his right arm.

    I knew this pale, sickly visage all too well. I¡¯d made it. Golvar, a part of my past I¡¯d thought left behind. I¡¯d hoped it would never cross my paths again. I should have known better.

    ¡°Someone¡¯s chasing me, Malvia! I got a package for Versalicci, and they¡¯ve been trying to knife me all morning for it. You have to help me.¡±

 Chapter 3 - A Twist in Face

    ¡°No,¡± I answered.

    I headed towards the main road, leaving the specter of my past cursing my name.

    ¡°You can¡¯t just leave me! I¡¯m dying, Malvia!¡± he yelled.

    To my annoyance, a few people in the street were noticing the noise. I could not be seen in Golvar¡¯s company. I could not have him calling me that name. Word would travel, and I¡¯d spent too much time severing those links.

    I didn¡¯t question how Golvar knew about my new appearance. Versalicci would know no matter what I did, and of course he¡¯d tell Golvar.

    I turned around, looking him over. He¡¯d aged terribly in the past five years. Lines on his face had deepened. One eye had gone dim while the other still burned that same sickly green. His beard was going white, and he¡¯d started shaving his head.

    ¡°No, you¡¯re not. Take five minutes to bandage your wounds. I don¡¯t see anything near a critical organ, and if you staunch the bleeding, you¡¯ll live. Then you can limp out of my life, Golvar.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m being chased, you arrogant little angel. Is this any way to respect your old teacher?¡±

    ¡°If you taught me anything to be proud of, I would respect you.¡± And that was avoiding the idea that this wasn¡¯t what it seemed. With Golvar and associates, trusting your eyes would always be a mistake. ¡°You still working with Versalicci, I take it? It seems to have finally caught up with you. I thought you smart enough to leave him long ago.¡±

    ¡°He made you what you are, Malvia. You want to cross the Lord of the Underground?¡±

    My eye twitched. ¡°Stop using that name, or I will make it so you can¡¯t utter it. I go by Falara now.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t help me, everyone is going to know that name. You owe him, Malvia.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t owe any allegiance to him, you, or anyone between you two,¡± I said. ¡°I left that life for a reason, and when he couldn¡¯t take hints, I left injured flunkies. He¡¯s been paid back for what I owe him. If he takes issue with the amount, maybe he should start reconsidering what he did.¡±

    ¡°Either you get me somewhere safe, or I start screeching,¡± Golvar said. ¡°Everyone in a quarter mile is going to think you¡¯re here with me. People will take that to the watch. You think they won¡¯t seize on that?¡±

    I considered just killing him. Take a few steps back, grasp the wounded man by the throat, and force-feed him a vial. A potent poison, it¡¯d render him compliant for a time. Lead him to an isolated spot, wait for him to expire, then leave.

    A horrible death, but I¡¯d seen Golvar cut the throats of people for much, much less. Sometimes just to make a point to someone else in the Organization.

    Even with all his wounds, the expression on Golvar''s face was defiant as I got closer. And as I got closer, I realized I couldn¡¯t kill him. It wasn¡¯t any lingering affection. If I was the last person around him before his disappearance, the news would travel. Not to the watch, but definitely to Versalicci. My other options were even more public, running from spitting to running him through on the spot.

    Another reason as well. Old advice I''d considered worth keeping despite its source. When you forge a mask, and wear it, you must become it. Whether you want to be that mask or not. Anything less and it''s no longer a mask, Malvia.

    Katheryn Falara didn''t kill people in the street for nothing worse than verbal threats.

    My hand shifted from one pocket to the other, pulling a small stoppered bottle out.

    ¡°Drink that. It¡¯ll hasten the clotting and give you some of your energy back. We¡¯ll get you back to my place first, then we can discuss what exactly you¡¯ve dragged me into.¡±

    Golvar frowned, unstoppering the healing draught and sniffing at it suspiciously.

    ¡°This is the best you¡¯ve got? I¡¯ve seen you whip up things that cause wounds to stitch themselves up.¡±

    ¡°When I¡¯m aware I¡¯ll be needing them. Which is not usually on a business trip. You¡¯ll have to make do with the draught I¡¯ve offered unless you think you can make it a few streets without bleeding out?¡±

    I did have two more powerful potions hidden in my coat, but those were for my personal use or for people who deserved them. Golvar definitely did not count as the latter. They were difficult to make, considering they were essentially directionless magic that needed to sew wounds and repair organs. They were the only two I owned and was likely to own for the foreseeable future.

    Golvar took a sip of the mixture and almost immediately began coughing.

    ¡°The entire thing, Golvar, unless you want its effects to be a half-measure. I¡¯d ask you not to do anything strenuous, but I know that¡¯s not going to be the case. Follow me.¡±

    I¡¯d already taken a half-dozen steps out of the alleyway before Golvar finished the potion and followed me out. By the time he caught up, his color had improved slightly. I hadn¡¯t focused on it before, but he¡¯d scooped a large parcel off the ground and under his arms.

    ¡°That¡¯s Versalicci¡¯s package?¡±

    ¡°Thought you just said you didn¡¯t want to be involved? Don¡¯t ask questions if you want that to be the case.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve already gotten me involved in this, Golvar. I should at least know what I¡¯m risking my life to protect.¡±

    ¡°Your horns, teeth, tail, everything that used to be part of you. Not those dainty replacements you¡¯ve used since you¡¯ve remade yourself into a little human playing at an infernal,¡± he spat at me in Cant.

    ¡°I have no idea what you could possibly be saying,¡± I replied.

    That was mainly for the benefit of anyone still in earshot. I¡¯d attracted attention after leaving the Hells'' Own, this well-dressed. I¡¯d still eventually slipped into the crowd. Now? With a blood-streaked member of one of the Quarter¡¯s most notorious gangs by my side? Everyone¡¯s eyes were on me as people were sure to give me a wide berth.

    ¡°Cut your tongue out for being a liar, if you haven¡¯t done so already. What¡¯s your game now, being some rich human¡¯s fetish? Maybe you should see your dear-¡±

    Golvar stilled. While he¡¯d launched into his new tirade in Cant, I¡¯d moved a hand to grab his wrist, covering the artery. The muscles in his face tensed, pushing at the skin.

    Forcing this hurt in a way that made fire trace up my own veins as my magic sank deep into his body. Forcing a change on anyone hurt me and usually was near impossible if they weren¡¯t willing, but Golvar still wore the face I¡¯d made for him. Something about it felt different, but the structure remained the same.

    Blood began to leak out of the scars on his face, traveling down to his chin. The ring in his nose shifted as cartilage shifted. The light in his good eye dimmed.

    ¡°Golvar, you weren¡¯t about to finish that sentence, were you? At least not in the way I suspect you were considering. Because if you were, I might suddenly start experimenting with how far I can twist those muscles in your face. We can test how far until they start snapping apart, not to mention what I¡¯ll do to the skin. I¡¯m going to let go now.¡±

    I pulled my hand back, and Golvar collapsed, hands on knees. A stream of something spilled out of his mouth.

    ¡°No more comments about me being soft or insinuating I¡¯m sleeping with a human. In fact, no more insinuating I¡¯m sleeping with anyone for money or status. Oh, and no mentions of my family from your mouth. In return, I won¡¯t ask about what¡¯s inside your box. Do we have an agreement?¡±

    Golvar coughed something onto the ground. ¡°Sure. Just please stop talking like you¡¯re some pampered rose off Bullon Street.¡±

    ¡°No promises. Learned methods of speaking die hard. Come on. If people are after you, we probably just let them know we are here.¡±

    If people had been giving us a wide berth before, they were trying to find entirely different streets to be on now. No time for the long route; I¡¯d just have to hope Versalicci¡¯s name still inspired enough fear to keep the other gangs in check. I strode forward, making for the next alleyway, Gavlor following behind as quickly as he could manage.

    The alleyway cleared quickly, and the destitute moved out of our way as we passed. The place smelled of desperation, death, and refuse of many different kinds¡ªliterally since not every place in the Infernal Quarter was connected to a submerged sewer.

    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    ¡°Would you slow the fuck down?¡± Golvar yelled after me in Cant.

    I sighed, slowing just a bit. Honestly, I needed to anyway. I was risking ripping the dress. It had been bought from a human and didn¡¯t work as well with digitigrade legs.

    ¡°You aren¡¯t getting another potion. The first was more than sufficient to keep you moving faster than that hobble.¡±

    ¡°You tried to rip my damn face off. Give me a moment to breathe and feel normal? Half a minute, and I¡¯ll be running faster than any copper or thief catcher in the city.¡±

    ¡°Fine, precisely half a minute for you to catch your breath.¡±

    Golvar took several rasping deep breaths, the bleeding from his old scars stopping as the residual effects of my potion closed them back up. His eye stared at me, still glowing that same sickly green. He probed all over his face with his hands, feeling for any damage.

    ¡°There better not be any permanent damage,¡± he said, prodding right under the glaring green orb.

    ¡°There won¡¯t be. I know my craft. Everything fell back into place when I let go of you.¡±

    It had taken effort to arrange for that. Something had felt off as I¡¯d forced parts of it to move, and I realized what it was. Another Sculptor¡¯s work.

    ¡°You¡¯ve had someone else work on it, but you chose not to change it. I would have thought you¡¯d do so just to avoid an arrest at some point, Golvar.¡±

    ¡°Not too many people as talented as you, and that¡¯s not me blowing smoke up your arse. Versalicci had Mortav take over on Sculpting ever since you left.¡±

    A giggle escaped my lips. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Mortav? That pyromancer kid who burned the warehouse on old Gibbon Street down trying to get a rat? He made him the new Sculptor?¡±

    ¡°Weren¡¯t a whole lot left after the raids on the underground. Others have gotten snatched up. He¡¯s half decent at it, I just don¡¯t want his and your work clashing in some way that makes me look like I dipped my face in the Vathes.¡±

    A fair enough concern on his part. Having a Sculptor who wasn¡¯t that skilled work on something already modified by another Sculptor had a high chance of resulting in the working being ruined in one way or another. Sometimes, even by the work tearing itself apart.

    Editing permanent Sculptures was already tricky, and even if it was your own work, it was likely to backfire. That was why I relied on temporary ones. They were more expensive but less likely to be a problem if the same parts of me needed to be sculpted multiple times.

    At least in terms of cosmetic Sculpts.

    ¡°Anyone else still alive from that far back?¡±

    ¡°Thought you wanted to leave those days behind you?¡±

    ¡°I¡­¡± Why was I asking this? I had left that life behind and had wounded those sent to try and draw me back into it. ¡°Idle curiosity. The only ones I know of are the ones you sent after me.¡±

    ¡°How about you come into the lair again, see who lived and who died,¡± Golvar sneered. ¡°Have a few pints, reminisce on how you fucking deserted after the raids and practically pissed on us.¡±

    How much would my veins burn to make his lips tear themselves to shreds? Probably too much.

    ¡°To business, then. You said you were pursued. I don¡¯t suppose you saw enough to identify them?¡±

    ¡°Humans aren¡¯t that common here, Malvia, you should know that. You still live here.¡±

    Ah. They knew where I currently lived. I had not been anywhere near careful enough in keeping hidden from Versalicci. At least I had more of my wits about me than Golvar, unless this was an attempt at intimidation.

    ¡°Indulge me. Full descriptions, if you could.¡±

    ¡°Six of them, big ones. No work was done on them, not even cosmetic. Think they¡¯re part of some crappy gang from the docks that calls themselves the Pure-bloods. No gunk in their veins, no sorcery in their bodies, no tainted blood from any other race. Usual suspects are the big ones they hate. Us, the Orcs, dwarves, the Keltish, the Vertamie. You can¡¯t be a member if you have red hair. They think it¡¯s a sign you have Keltish blood in you. Bunch of crazy lunatics.¡±

    That was an interesting way of describing them from a member of what I would also call a bunch of crazy lunatics. Versalicci himself had never encouraged it, but I¡¯d seen more than a few initiates given the boots for not looking sufficiently demonic. Tails too short, horns too small, hooves not big enough.

    ¡°And yet these six humans, without anything besides what they were born with, managed to get the drop on you? You couldn¡¯t even land a single blow in return?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Don¡¯t make it sound like that! I was at the surface level underground in the old sewer tunnels. No one goes there, you know that. Nothing worth killing, nothing worth guarding. I was taking this back, then they came out of nowhere and started stabbing me. One had a top hat, others had dockworking uniforms. Low-class thugs, the lot of them. I¡¯d have torn their throats out if it had been in the open.¡±

    ¡°Oh, most certainly,¡± I replied sardonically. His scowl deepened but he said nothing more.

    We¡¯d made it out of one alley, across a street, and into another. Soon, we¡¯d be nearing the old Halspus Cathedral ruins, an excellent place to lie low and perhaps put another potion into Golvar. The chances of people disturbing us were low. Humans didn¡¯t like venturing near where the Hell¡¯s invasion had started.

    Infernals? We didn¡¯t like being near a place that set us on fire for stepping foot inside.

    Golvar himself was showing signs of faltering. Despite that half-minute, his breathing was quick, sweat covered him, and blood began to leak from those old scars once again. We¡¯d need to stop.

    ***

    ¡°They must have been some of the most unskilled assailants in the history of trying to kill people,¡± I said.

    I was examining Golvar''s wounds among the cathedral ruins. A slight itching crawled across my skin this close, but still no sign of the divine about to smite me.

    The chapel was mostly deserted, as per usual. A few people who lived in the surrounding tenants watched with no real excitement or curiosity. You only rented here if you were worn down enough to risk dying from holy fire.

    The only lively people here were a group of teens across from the outskirts of the chapel we¡¯d holed up in. Occupying much of the lower tenement, most of them watched us, playing at acting tough with the rusty knives they wielded. The occasional jeer or taunt was tossed our way from that direction.

    Youths busy taking the first taste of what might be their future. A path I knew a bit too well. They kept a respectful distance after Golvar had displayed the insignia carved into his flesh. They didn¡¯t want to cross Versalicci.

    ¡°You got lucky. They successfully avoided hitting most of your organs. Did they give any signs of keeping you alive?¡±

    Golvar shook his head, his color much improved. The second potion had been much more potent than the first, but it¡¯d been necessary. Improving the clotting wouldn¡¯t have been enough. If I hadn¡¯t used the second, he¡¯d have bled out well before any safe place to drop him off. Now I was using thread and needle to sew the worst of it up.

    ¡°Nah. Low-class thugs, Malvia. Like I said before, they wouldn¡¯t know how to keep me alive even if they wanted to. It''s just luck at work for me.¡±

    I doubted he had that much luck. I was about to start on another stab wound when a shadow passed over me, followed by a gust of wind.

    I looked up to see the same scaled creature as before passing ahead, wings beating as it flew by.

    The wind blew my hair out, sending the dark brown locks I kept them in flying all over as the drake flew ahead. Each beat of their wings sent winds scattering into the Infernal Quarter, sending smaller items flying through the air. I pushed my skirt down as the gusts passed through. Golvar swore as he grasped his package, holding it to the ground.

    As the drake banked left, I saw a distinct silhouette on their back. A rider? A drake and a rider was a rare sight.

    I stared at the drake as they and their rider turned again, then flew out of the quarter. ¡°How important is that package you are carrying?¡±

    ¡°Not that important. It¡¯s not related.¡± Golvar said, putting it on some rocks behind him as the drake flew out of sight.

    ¡°It better not be. I¡¯m sticking my neck out for you enough as is.¡±

    Golvar suddenly yelled, getting off the rubble he was sitting on. My needle lodged into his skin as he rammed into me, howling curses.

    Rocks dug into me as I fell back. I lashed out, and my hoof barely missed his leg as he ran forward.

    ¡°Put that the fuck down, you little shit!¡±

    One of the street youths ran back, fear in his eyes. Behind him, the package for Versalicci lay on the ground. Golvar had put it on the rubble before I started looking him over.

    I got up off the rubble, feeling my back in spots where the rocks had dug in. The dress was probably cut as well.

    ¡°Reputation isn¡¯t all it used to be, I see.¡± Enough for them to wait till we were busy to try and steal the package.

    ¡°Lousy little punk.¡± Both hands wrapped around it, Golvar carried the package back towards the rubble. ¡°It still is all it used to be. Some people just need to be taught a lesson.¡±

    I kept my expression neutral. His tone was one I knew well. Those teenagers better make themselves scarce by the end of today.

    ¡°I want my needle back. I¡¯m going to have to redo that entire cut.¡±

    Golvar didn¡¯t respond. He was focused on what had just rounded the corner.

    Six humans strutted towards the chapel. Their clothes were, for the most part, those you¡¯d expect from lower-class laborers, with the exception of a gigantic top hat on the one leading. Ungroomed facial hair and eyes that looked around with evident contempt. They carried themselves like upper crust, thick, heavy canes tapping against the ground as they moved toward us.

    It wasn¡¯t uncommon for humans to walk the Infernal Quarter, but this deep inside? Unless some crime lord had gotten very bold, they were here for another reason. They also had the dried blood on their sleeves, which hinted at the gang Golvar had mentioned.

    Oh, and there were six of them as well. I didn''t doubt who they were, but just in case I turned to Golvar.

    ¡°Them?¡± I whispered to Golvar.

    He nodded nervously. His skin had gone as pale as it had been in the alley. Was he afraid of them? I hadn¡¯t thought the bravado from before false.

    ¡°You got beat up by canes? For shame, Golvar.¡±

    ¡°Shut up. They¡¯re carrying knives. Don¡¯t be an idiot.¡±

    It was no use hiding. They were already heading our way. Now that they were closer, I could see they were all easily over six feet. That would make this harder. My body was currently only a few inches over five feet and didn¡¯t particularly look strong with all that displaced mass forced into denser forms.

    Looks would be deceiving in that regard, but I didn¡¯t want them deceived, I wanted them intimidated.

    ¡°Gentlemen,¡± I announced. ¡°Seeing as you are approaching me with what I can only describe as hostile intent, I wish to inform you I am both an Alchemist and a Sculptor before anyone is tempted into any unpleasantness.¡±

    Their march towards us slowed but didn¡¯t stop. This might not need violence, but it didn¡¯t look good.

    I kept one hand casually on my saber, the other inside my coat. There were pockets on the upper interior left. I just needed to open the alchemically treated flaps, and I had a vial in my hands. By then, the gang had caught up with us.

    The one with the Top Hat lead was the first to speak.

    ¡°This ain¡¯t gotta result in too much violence, hellspawn,¡± he said, an unfriendly grin splitting his face. ¡°Even if you are what you say, I don¡¯t want you. I want the green-skinned devil. We finish this, you can head back to whatever you were doing.¡±

    All the other Infernals, including the street kids had disappeared. So much for racial solidarity.

    ¡°You betray me, they¡¯ll put a dagger in you before you¡¯ve finished turning around,¡± Golvar said in a whisper.

    ¡°That¡¯d be the most merciful result,¡± I replied. ¡°Do you think I¡¯ve got no clue in my head?¡±

    His expression answered that much, and I sighed before facing the gang leaders, smiling my friendliest smile.

    ¡°Gentlemen, please, we don¡¯t have to do this. I¡¯m sure whatever my friend here did to offend you, it¡¯s not worth risking anyone¡¯s life over-¡±

    ¡°Fuck negotiating with the hellspawn, Eric. Get her!¡± a thug with a red scarf yelled, and they came at us like a wave, Top Hat in the lead.

 Chapter 4 - A Spot of Bother

    I hit the leader''s left hand with a thrown vial of acid. As Top Hat screamed, I grasped for his other hand.

    He stabbed at my hand, and I withdrew, yanking my saber¡¯s blade out of him. The flesh gave quickly, my blade sliding out. I cut at him again.

    Top Hat¡¯s dagger parried another slash from my saber. My hoof lashed out, kicking his shin. Daintier than usual, it still got a yelp out of the human.

    A cane hit my wrist. I held onto the saber, turning to the new threat. A dagger cut my arm, carving a shallow cut on my arm. A heavyset human with a red scarf pushed toward me, trying to close and restrict my saber¡¯s movements.

    I parried a dagger stab with my saber, then pulled back from Top Hat and his ally.

    They both pulled back as well, regrouping with their other allies. One of them already had several deep cuts near his eyes. Knife bloody, Gavlor grinned as he moved near me, bloody blades in hand.

    ¡°Told you they weren¡¯t any match in the open against me,¡± he bragged.

    I didn¡¯t dignify that with a reply.

    He didn¡¯t stop talking. ¡°You¡¯re making shallow cuts with that saber. You lost your killing edge?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s poisoned. If you don¡¯t be quiet and focus, I¡¯ll demonstrate it on you after we¡¯re done with these six.¡±

    The two with pistols yelled for their compatriots to move out of the way. I only had seconds.

    By the time they¡¯d cleared space among themselves to fire through, another of my vials flew through the air.

    This one smashed into the face of a pistol wielder. Acid splattered across his face. He screamed, firing the flintlock and missing. The second one fired. Golvar grunted but did not go down.

    I charged ahead. We couldn¡¯t give them time to reload and the only cover behind was the chapel.

    I still had the reach advantage with my saber, even as short as I currently was. I slashed repeatedly at Top Hat and the one next to him, trying to buy a moment of isolation. Golvar followed behind, guarding my back as I moved forward.

    Top Hat¡¯s blocks were weak, my saber ripping the cane from his hand. Through the remnants of his coat, I could see exposed muscle and burnt skin from my acid.

    I used my saber to drive Top Hat away from the others, then switched with Golvar. He charged the isolated human, laughing, while I fended off cane strikes from the three others. Behind them, one of them writhed on the ground, gun dropped as he tried desperately to stop the acid from eating at his face.

    One flintlock out of the fight. We were lucky the Pure-bloods were too cheap to have revolvers. It would take the last one time to reload the flintlock.

    It didn¡¯t help too much. I parried multiple blows in quick succession, but the numbers were in their favor. A cane smashed into my shoulder, then a second to my ribs. I wrapped my tail around one, fighting its wielder for the weapon. A second cane hit it, the pain traveling up into my spine.

    Golvar cackled behind me. I couldn¡¯t spare a glance as I stopped a cane from cracking over my head. Even with more layers of bone than a human had there, headshots were dangerous.

    Golvar came from behind me, charging for the one on the left. I turned my attention to the other two, only for one of them to move toward Golvar.

    My saber lashed into the opening, cutting through the coat into his side. But he continued past, and I left myself open.

    A cane rammed into my side. Something cracked, and pain exploded across my side. I turned, saber raised to guard.

    The last gang member, red scarf flapping around his neck, held his cane up. We traded blows back and forth for a few seconds. I tried to grab his cane with my tail; he tried to stab me with his dagger. Neither of us had much success.

    Behind him, the one with the pistol nearly had it reloaded. I tried to put Red Scarf between us, but I also couldn¡¯t turn my back to the two fighting Golvar.

    Over by Golvar, one of them was on the ground, blood streaming out of half a dozen wounds. But Golvar was grappling with the second. I tried to move toward him. The red scarf¡¯s knife stabbed, keeping me back.

    The one by Golvar headbutted him, then drove a knife into Golvar¡¯s chest. At the same time, I heard the flintlock wielder yell something in a tongue I couldn¡¯t recognize.

    I ducked. The flintlock fired with a roar that echoed in my ears. Ahead of me, the red-scarfed one shuddered, then collapsed. Blood streamed out of his now empty eye socket.

    The flintlock wielder was aghast. That just let me get close. My saber cut towards their throat.

    Hardwood met it, the one who¡¯d stabbed Golvar interceding. He got between me and the flintlock wielder, both knife and cane ready.

    I couldn¡¯t keep this up forever. Already, my limbs burned and ached. It¡¯d been too long since I¡¯d fought more than short practice bouts with Tolman. I needed to even the odds now. I unhinged my jaw as I aimed.

    I didn¡¯t keep too many Sculpts on me besides one that adjusted my appearance. Of the three I did have, one was a secret container linked to my throat, about half a cup in volume. I had to ensure the lining was very durable for what it needed to store: acid from a wall-eating giant ant in the Underground.

    He ducked just in time. The stream of acid flew over his face, hitting his remaining comrade in the face. The hissing black liquid splattered all over his eyes and nose, eating away at flesh.

    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    I tried to bring the hilt of my saber down on the last one¡¯s head. Too late. He drove a knife into my knee, and I yowled as it drove into the joint.

    He let go of the knife. A fist rammed into the underside of my chin, rocking my head. I reeled back.

    He grabbed my coat by its lapels, pulling me back. His head rammed into mine. My entire world grew dim as pain burst across my forehead.

    Something swam into focus. A fist rammed into my nose. I screamed as it cracked, breaking.

    His knees lay on my wrists, grinding them into the dirt. A second blow rammed into my eye. I screamed, swore, spat curses as a third blow hit my jaw.

    Their hand went for the knife, confident in me being pinned. It ripped out of my knee. They leaned in. The knife went for my throat.

    I snapped forward, jaw latching around his throat.

    Teeth sliced through his skin, blood flooding my mouth as my jaws closed. My teeth were smaller than they used to be. They were still just as sharp.

    The human shuddered, and something jammed into my abdomen. Burning. The knife dug into my gut, twisting and turning. My scream was muffled by the man¡¯s blood and flesh. I bit harder.

    Something gave. With a snap, my teeth met. I pulled back, reflexively spitting out the chunk of throat. A surge of energy rushed through me, a feeling of euphoria rising from my gut as something inside me awoke. It was unnatural and not welcome, but it would keep me going.

    The gang member gurgled, eyes desperate as he clawed for me. Bloody hands grasped at the hem of my dress and the bottom of my coat as he collapsed.

    I knelt down and used my saber to give him some mercy. Heart pounding, I stood triumphant over my foes, glee in my chest.

    I collapsed on the ground a second later.

    My side was on fire. Pain seared up and down it, centered on where the knife had stabbed repeatedly into my kidneys. Smaller patches where my knee had been stabbed, my arm cut, where canes had struck across my body.

    That brief wave of energy from feeding my diabolism with flesh faded fast.

    My hands grasped instinctively into my overcoat, trying to find the correct pouch. Please let it not be broken. So many vials were, but I felt the neck of the remaining healing draught.

    I felt sluggish as I pulled it up to my lips. I popped the stopper out and quickly drank from it.

    It felt like a warmth igniting in my chest. The pain across my body lessened. The draught worked swiftly. It had many ingredients, the most important being the blood of a particular onerous troll.

    The regenerative effects already began to stitch my flesh and organs together. Cuts closed like they¡¯d never been inflicted. I could still feel the pain, dramatically lessened but still there, and I¡¯d need to be careful so they didn¡¯t reopen. I¡¯d live, though, which was most important.

    I clambered back to my hooves, legs unsteady. My vision swam, a pounding pain spawning behind my eyes. Blackness crept in on the edges of my vision for a moment.

    I looked down at the corpse of the Pureblood. Blank eyes stared back at me, the ravaged throat still adding blood to a swiftly spreading pool. I puked next to him, my stomach rebelling at the sight.

    Focus, Malvia, I told myself. You¡¯ve been through worse. It¡¯s just like learning how to pick someone¡¯s pockets again.

    There was a dramatic difference between picking someone¡¯s pockets and almost dying. Or killing someone. The blank eyes still stared at me. I did my best to ignore them and the others all around.

    That had been harder than I remembered. These days I only really fought when I traveled underground scavenging ingredients. Even then, that was usually as part of a group. Strictly a support role, just there to collect whatever ingredients were left. It¡¯d been a while since I¡¯d gotten mixed up directly in fighting.

    I¡¯d forgotten how exhilarating it was. I spat a mixture of spit and blood that wasn¡¯t mine from my mouth as my pounding heart began to calm. Too easily did I get lost in the moment. It had been years since I¡¯d bitten someone, and for good reason. Something stirred in excitement, mixing with the disgust at the dead and the feeling of dread over taking a life.

    I did not like fighting. Or at least I told myself that to keep the thing inside me that did from growing any more aware. No matter how good the feeling of adrenaline coursing through my veins felt.

    I buried that feeling as best I could. I was not letting those demonic influences grow any more substantial. Outside of it being a crime with the death penalty attached, diabolism would only make things worse. Another thing I could blame partially on Versalicci, mostly on myself being a foolish young girl taken in by the Underground Streets.

    Everything seems like a good idea when you¡¯re fifteen years old. I instead turned my attention to the bodies, making sure that they all were dead. Having one of them spring back up and use the last of their life to cut my throat would be a rather dismal end to mine.

    None of them stirred except one. To my shock, Golvar still moved, clawing his way across the ground.

    ¡°Stay still,¡± I yelled at him and tried to run over. My unsteady hooves gave out, and I ate dirt. I got back up, taking things more slowly.

    Blood streamed from over a dozen wounds. Most of it came from the one on his chest. The Pure-blood must have stabbed right between the ribs.

    ¡°Guess you didn¡¯t cut down on those teeth as much as I¡¯d thought,¡± Golvar choked out, words mangled as they came out. I could barely make out what he said. Blood was coming out as well, too much to be a broken tooth or bitten cheek.

    ¡°Don¡¯t talk. They probably punctured a lung.¡± I had seconds at best and no potion left. I grabbed one of the humans'' shirts, ripping it off their corpse and tearing strips out. I needed a tube and preferably an anesthetic. I had neither.

    He tried to say something back. All I could make out was gurgling noises as blood sputtered from his throat.

    ¡°I said be quiet! Do you want to die?¡± I hissed. I focused on the other wounds instead, tying off bandages. I staunched the bleeding in as many places as I could. ¡°Just focus on my voice, and do not fall asleep, Golvar. You¡¯ll be fine. It¡¯s a few blocks to my place. I have an elixir there that will fix you up right away.¡±

    I couldn¡¯t risk leaving him here. Moving him would possibly cause more damage, but leaving him with no one else around? An even worse idea.

    ¡°Okay, we¡¯re going to have to walk there. It¡¯s going to hurt worse than you ever- actually almost as bad as you¡¯ve ever hurt in your life, but we can do it. Golvar?¡±

    Golvar didn¡¯t move. His chest moved shallowly at best.

    ¡°Golvar?¡± I touched the side of his cheek. He did not react. I jostled his head, only to get the same. I was about to try dragging him when I noticed that even the slight movement of his chest had stopped.

    He¡¯d passed.

    Something wet traveled across my cheek. I thought it might be blood, but my probing fingers came back with tears on their ends instead.

    Why was I shedding tears over Golvar? The man had been a sadistic bully from the moment I¡¯d known him. I¡¯d thought him admirable once, but those days were long past, abandoned with most of my teenage years. Why was I crying?

    Enough time debating why I¡¯d shed tears over a monster''s death. I needed to leave here swiftly and with as little evidence of my presence as possible.

    I could handle the contract with Lord Montague and then lie low for a while. It would hurt to give up any potential customers during that time, but it would be better than getting embroiled in whatever this was.

    It shouldn¡¯t be too difficult. I¡¯d leave here, find an intermediary to hire to give Versalicci his package, and then retire to my life far removed from the Underground and its gangs.

    Metaphorically, not literally. There were probably tunnels running under my apartment. But still, I could disappear again, maybe finally find a place outside of the Infernal Quarter to rent. The payments I¡¯d be getting would be enough to justify my moving out of this literal hellhole.

    Moving the lab would be more difficult. Maybe a third disguise to operate in here? I would be stretching my resources thin moving to even one of the poorer quarters, but I could-

    A shrill whistle cut through my thoughts. Its shriek traveled across the air, echoing. A half second later, another dozen answered it.

    I knew them. Every citizen did. Every criminal knew them and feared them sounding close. The city watch was on its way.

    Ah. Well, I knew better than to think they weren¡¯t headed directly towards me. This complicated things.

 Chapter 5 - A Short Stay without Room or Board

    Constable whistles sounded again, and I flicked the blood off my saber.

    What an unfortunate spot of bother. Typically, patrols in the Infernal Quarter, while heavier than they¡¯d been for years, weren¡¯t regular enough to worry about, but those sounded both close and numerous.

    Near the cathedral as well? Something stank. The only issue was of what in particular. In league with this human gang? Simply on Golvar¡¯s trail? Something entirely unrelated?

    Actually, that didn¡¯t matter much. What did matter was that I needed to make sure I¡¯d be kept alive, which meant getting all of my weapons off of me for right now. Hopefully I could get at least some of them back.

    I dropped my saber, and it landed next to the package Golvar had been carrying. Ah, that''s another issue.

    I considered the package at my feet. Now, the question arose, should I hide it or leave it out for the constables to find? It was undoubtedly illegal.

    I didn¡¯t have time to debate this. I scooped it up and moved to the rubble of the chapel. The sound of whistles neared as I buried it under some rubble. Not good enough. The coppers would be scouring this place.

    Then again, what did I care? I¡¯d done the minimum that Versalicci couldn¡¯t claim I¡¯d handed it off to the Watch. Let him recover his package. There was the curiosity to open it up, but that would mean getting involved, and I had enough to deal with. I would not jeopardize my reputation for my past.

    The whistles were getting closer. No one else had returned, and the inhabitants were probably hiding deep inside their homes. The fighting and now the Watch were keeping them away.

    I put on my best smile. So what if my clothes were covered in blood, I was the only survivor of this little skirmish, and the one person I¡¯d been fighting alongside was a prominent member of a notorious gang? I could certainly talk my way out of this and be back home with a wink, a smile, and a few well-placed words.

    Seeing the first green-clad watchmen come within sight, I put my hands up.

    ¡°Officer, thank goodness you¡¯ve come!¡±

    ***

    I stared at the ceiling of my cell, looking at the uneven pattern of brickwork.

    The pattern of lines and crumbling mortar weren¡¯t particularly interesting, but there wasn¡¯t anything else to look at. Three walls of the same surrounded me and beyond the bars of my cell? The view beyond was of more brickwork.

    From my left, my neighbor in the next cell started up again with a list of crude suggestions he¡¯d been making since I¡¯d been brought in. It was nothing I¡¯d never heard before, although the sheer volume was a little frightening. I didn¡¯t want to guess what crimes he was in here for.

    He was currently enumerating the various things he¡¯d do to my stomach with a rolling pin and potato peeler.

    To my right, there was silence. Someone was in there. I¡¯d seen her when I entered. A dwarf who looked like she lived on the street. Ragged clothes, a youthful scarred face. Probably in here for stealing or something of the like. She definitely did not deserve to be in the same wing as the psycho to my left and a licensed alchemist.

    A story there, I¡¯d bet. The need to know itched at the back of my brain, a slight little urge to pursue anything to break up the monotony.

    I shoved that thought down. I wouldn¡¯t break that easily. Just wait until they drag you out for your interrogation Mal-Falara. Hells and Heavens, this place is as mind-numbingly boring as it¡¯s ever been.

    The Coffin hadn¡¯t changed much over the years. I¡¯d been in at multiple points, both as Malvia and Falara. Falara had only been brought in for questioning a few times, nothing that could be proven. Minor things, missing goods, suspicious deals. Not worth keeping. Not in a prison already overcrowded.

    It was supposed to be overcrowded anyway. I was used to sharing my cell with up to nine other people, so being on my own was worrying in its uniqueness. Unless they¡¯d somehow fixed their overcrowding issue?

    I snorted. I doubted it would ever be free of that issue. Most of the criminals willing to take service in the army in return for a reduced sentence had already signed up. Pretty soon the Watch would either find some construction project in need of prisoners or the Queen would decide to start making service in the military compulsory.

    She¡¯d pursued harder punishments for lesser faults in her citizenry.

    Malvia had been imprisoned here three times before and made it out each time. Malvia had a cell reserved here, right next to the one being kept for her boss and one time biggest target of the Watch, Giovani Versalicci. Malvia would probably be due another trip to whatever Questioners might still be employed in the bowels of this place.

    Today¡¯s watch might be a kinder, more gentler watch, or so they said. There would still be Questioners. And if there weren¡¯t questioners there would be the Grey Hats, ready to make sure no prisoner could do magic.

    They supposedly had switched to temporary tattoos or blockers in the building itself. I hoped so. I still remembered the searing pain of the potions needed to regrow my fingers and tongue.

    Next to me, the blabber from the one in the cell grew louder. Did he even pause to take a breath? The only relief from it was the squeaking of vermin, most prominently the rat I shared a cell with.

    ¡°Tommy, would you be quiet?¡± a voice said from my left. It was not loud, but it still cut through the torrent of nonsense coming from the next cell.

    Ah, my neighbor on the other side had spoken.

    ¡°I would appreciate it if he would as well. It¡¯s not the kind of language to be speaking next to two fine ladies.¡±

    The tirade turned to the topic of exactly what he considered our chances of being two fine ladies. I sighed. The next person who insinuates I trade sex for money is getting kicked at a minimum.

    ¡°No, I don¡¯t think either of us are. Excuse me, Miss-?¡± I asked

    ¡°Amna. Don¡¯t call me Miss, it feels weird. Ignore Tommy, he won¡¯t be quiet, and after a while, you can tune him out.¡± The dwarf in my neighboring cell replied.

    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    A smile crept onto my face even if my conversation partner couldn¡¯t see it.

    ¡°I¡¯ll do my best, but I¡¯m afraid that it is a rather loud stream of¡­. verbiage. And not calling you Miss is also something I can¡¯t quite do. Does he always sound like this? Or does he restrain himself?¡±

    ¡°Not really. Ma told me he¡¯s usually like this, but he¡¯s got some friends you don¡¯t want to cross. He doesn¡¯t actually do anything, so people just ignore him. Mind you, it keeps getting him beat up.¡±

    ¡°Oh, so you know him from outside this jail? I thought you two only became acquainted inside here. What quarter are you from?¡±

    ¡°Bismuth. Not one of the fancy parts, lower quarters.¡±

    Huh. Of course, I¡¯d been to Bismuth a few times, one of the old hearts of alchemical practice in Avernon. It had been supplanted since then by Varmouth, Ironworks, or even North Bellings as time passed on and the rise of both biosculpting and clockwork. And it had never been a place of old magic like Silver Road, Sarbridge, or the Shadowed Quarter.

    It was still an excellent place to visit, negotiate for ingredients, and catch up with the craft. I¡¯d sometimes entertained the idea of moving there, but it was an idle dream. My forged license wouldn¡¯t hold up to scrutiny in an entire quarter of alchemists, not to mention all the other barriers in my way. The fake license was only one of a few significant issues.

    ¡°One of the lower quarters? So the docks section, where it borders the Nover?¡±

    The Nover was the great river that split Avernon into three distinct parts, splitting into Greater and Lesser branches.

    ¡°Yeah. I''ve been working as a dockworker lately. It''s not as much work as the proper docks, of course, but alchemists will still pay a pretty penny to have their materials delivered as soon as possible.¡±

    That made sense. The potency of many alchemical ingredients depended on their freshness before being added to the mixture. Wait too long to add them, and the effects of your creation will be reduced or even ruined.

    ¡°So, where are you from?¡±

    I giggled, managing to keep my amusement from reaching full laughs. ¡°Do you even need to ask?¡±

    There was a lull in the conversation filled only by Thomas'' increasingly deranged ranting.

    ¡°I mean, I know Infernals are living outside the Quarter. I¡¯ve met a few of them. And hells, would you assume I was from the underground just because I¡¯m a dwarf?¡±

    ¡°No. I''ve been to the underground frequently, and someone wanting to move out of there makes perfect sense. But for us, there''s only a few Infernals outside the quarter. Even if one can legally move out, it¡¯s not so easy to do. I¡¯ve looked into moving a few times, and even moving into the Chalkhills, the Vale, or even Billsburrow would end with me in a place much worse than I already am. I¡¯m in the Infernal Quarter, where my money is worth something regarding real estate.¡±

    The conversation paused again. I hadn¡¯t meant to intimidate Amna into silence, but eventually, she replied.

    ¡°So you¡¯re fairly well off?¡±

    ¡°Decently. Amusingly, alchemy is my trade. Although fairly well off is something of an exaggeration. Keeping wealth is something beyond me at the moment.¡±

    ¡°Fancy dresses or betting on horses?¡±

    ¡°Fighting pits, actually.¡± A bald-faced lie, but I would hardly admit the true nature of my expenses to a stranger.

    ¡°You¡¯re joking, right? You hardly look the type.¡±

    ¡°You live as long as I have, you learn that looks are the most deceiving things of all Miss Amna.¡±

    ¡°You look like you¡¯re three years older than me at the most.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not a lesson that takes long to learn.¡±

    ¡°I suppose so. Is there someone else with you, by the way? They brought something alive into your cell, didn¡¯t they? I heard something struggling when they shoved it into your cell.¡±

    Ah, right. I suppose I wasn¡¯t actually the only occupant of the cell. The wardens hadn¡¯t brought food yet. When I asked, one of them had dropped off a rat in a trap. Their idea of a joke.

    I looked at the rodent, struggling in futility against the ropes they¡¯d used to bind it. It squeaked in a mixture of terror and frustration. Hunger gnawed at the bottom of my stomach.

    I ignored it. I wasn¡¯t that desperate. Yet.

    Besides, eating it would probably just worsen the Diabolism trying to escape my veins.

    ¡°It¡¯s a rodent. A rat, to be precise. I asked for something to eat, and they replied by giving me this. I¡¯m quite sure they expect me to eat it.¡±

    ¡°Are you going to?¡±

    ¡°It depends on how long the Watch plans to keep me here. If this is the only food they serve, I will have to make do, although the least they could do is cook it.¡±

    The rat¡¯s struggles and squeaking grew even louder as its head whipped around. I raised an eyebrow. They hadn¡¯t put a Shifter forced into the form of a rat in here, had they? Some kind of cruel punishment for both them and me? I could only hope not.

    ¡°It¡¯s been mostly some terrible gruel for us. The Wardens kept us fed at least. I am curious about one other thing. What could a lady like you have done to end up next to us?¡± Amna asked.

    ¡°Oh, nothing illegal. I just happened to fall in with a rather unfortunate sort, tried to help him, and got involved in a fight. All a little bit out of my comfort zone, but I think I acquitted myself well.¡±

    ¡°Seriously? You helped defend someone, and you turned yourself in? That can¡¯t be all, can it.¡±

    I frowned. ¡°I don¡¯t follow your implications, Miss Amna.¡±

    ¡°I''m just asking you to be honest. You wouldn¡¯t be thrown in here if you were just defending yourself. You know, there isn¡¯t anyone around listening. It¡¯s not like I¡¯m going to squeal.¡±

    My expression remained the same, but my attitude did not. That stank. Why would someone be so curious about the reasons for a stranger''s imprisonment?

    Then again, I was restraining myself earlier. She might just be as bored as I am. Besides, this is too obvious. If she is an undercover watchwoman trying to get information out of me, why be so forward?

    Unless they couldn¡¯t hold me for long. If they didn¡¯t have anything concrete, it might not be long for me to be back on the streets. The jails were too full to justify throwing me in for what they couldn¡¯t prove was anything but self-defense. A need to find some kind of crime I¡¯d committed before they¡¯d be forced to let me go?

    I knew my activities as Falara weren¡¯t entirely above the board, but not enough to require this amount of effort. It must be the Versalicci connection.

    ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll whisper it to you. Get to the corner of your cell.¡±

    I leaned my head against the bars as close as I could get to Amna¡¯s cell. In the other one, Tommy had gone quiet, tapering off his latest tirade. Coincidence, or making sure he didn¡¯t obscure what I was about to say.

    ¡°The man I fell in with was part of an old Infernal Gang, the Black Flame. Still powerful. I figured it wouldn¡¯t hurt to have a favor. Or at least at a bare minimum, not give them a reason to stab me.¡±

    With that little snippet of information tossed either to an undercover copper or an innocent street girl, I pulled back from the bars.

    Amna remained quiet for several moments. Her silence was only made more obvious by Tommy¡¯s lack of ranting about ¡®taking you red-skinned devil with a full set of cutlery to help ease me into it¡¯.

    If he wasn¡¯t already part of the watch, he certainly had the mindset they looked for.

    ¡°That¡¯s your big secret? You didn¡¯t want to get stabbed by his mates?¡±

    ¡°I guess it¡¯s not too exciting. But it is all I have.¡±

    From there, the conversation turned to idle chit-chat. She was from a family who permanently lived on the surface now, immigrants from Azraden, driven here by the latest round of underground wars. Her parents were masons, which was of constant use in Dramelsen. The city always grew these days, never shrinking.

    It continued till a pair of watch members came by, going into Amna¡¯s cell. The time had come for her interrogation, or her debriefing.

    ¡°Stay strong, Amna!¡± I said.

    She gave me a firm little nod. Was she a plant? I couldn¡¯t tell. Were the coppers better at disguising themselves, or had Falara actually made me weak?

    The two officers marched her off, leaving me along with Tommy. He immediately launched into another tirade of slurs, profanity, and lewd suggestions.

    As time passed, Tommy¡¯s ranting actually began to fade in my mind. It helped that he ran out of material after a certain point, and the repeated material had less effect. My mind was occupied by other things. Such as how I hadn¡¯t asked how long Amna had been in here.

    Depending on how long I was stuck in here, it could become an issue.

    I¡¯d done up my form-changing sculpting just before meeting Lady Karsin nearing two weeks ago. They¡¯d hold for maybe another day before I¡¯d need to redo them. Hopefully, I¡¯d be out by then, and there¡¯d be no risk of reverting back to a thought-dead member of Versalicci¡¯s criminal empire while inside the Watch¡¯s jail.

    I should just make the ones to become Falara¡¯s baseline form permanent instead of temporary ones I needed to redo every few weeks. Finally bite that bullet. I shouldn¡¯t need nor want to be Malvia again.

    Ah, the sound of boots on stone came once again, stomping ever closer. I used a claw to slit the rat¡¯s bindings, watching it scurry into the darkness.

    The Watch officers went past Thomas, stopping at my cell. ¡°Come on, Foulhorn. We need you to answer some questions for us.¡±

 Chapter 6 - More Old Hated Friends

    The more things changed, the more they stayed the same. Me, a Watch interrogation room, and the law trying to pry the truth out of me in any way it could.

    Thinner wrists chafed less in Watch restraints, which was a nice change. I also welcomed the lack of torturers. Although they might come out later.

    Then again, maybe the stifling heat and lack of air were replacements for those torturers. That and the feeling of the table¡¯s edge pressing into my stomach. The interrogation room stretched maybe four feet by six, with the back of my chair set against the wall and the table between me and the interrogator taking up over half the room. Already, my stomach rebelled against the pressure. Empty as it was, it might expel both my breakfast and the mead from the Hells'' Own if the table pressed in any further.

    Across from me stood my interrogator, a middle-aged man in Watch coat and bowler hat, piercing eyes staring sullenly from underneath the brim. Papers clutched in his hands, he¡¯d chosen to stand, pacing back and forth between shot-off questions trying to find a target. The documents in his hands were for theatrics. He hadn¡¯t taken his gaze off my face once in this interview.

    The interrogation was standard. I¡¯d done several as Falara and many more as Malvia, and nothing had changed in eight years. Different faces opposite me, a different topic, same questions, and style. Well, some differences.

    I was a little insulted even. Only one interrogator? The standard back in my days as Malvia had been at least two.

    ¡°-furthermore, witnesses claim you were conversing with the other Infernal for quite sometime before the fight. You still claim you were only talking about the circumstances of his injury?¡±

    ¡°Healing people isn¡¯t an easy process, detective,¡± I said. ¡°I needed to make sure I was getting to each injury, sewing them up properly. We did discuss his pursuers, but that was because I wanted to be prepared if they showed up. Which they did.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t discuss why he¡¯d been stabbed, the contents of the box he was carrying, any of that?¡±

    ¡°I broached the subject, but he didn¡¯t seem willing to answer. Considering the urgency of the situation, I didn¡¯t feel it necessary to confront over.¡±

    ¡°Just feeling charitable that day then? Helping a stranger with no idea what you¡¯re getting into.¡±

    I shrugged as much as the restraints would allow. My arms had been tied back behind the chair, my ankles shackled to the chair. If I wasn¡¯t already familiar with the process, I¡¯d suspect they knew of my arcane talents beyond Alchemy. This was just how they operated.

    ¡°I try to live by the ideal, but he also was rather insistent. Truth be told, I thought refusing would likely result in him attempting to stab me.¡±

    ¡°You had multiple weapons on you, and you were afraid of a bleeding out criminal being a danger to you.¡±

    I dragged down my annoyance. I needed to be the epitome of politeness. Irritating the watchmen was a good way to end up here ¡°on suspicion¡± of something. Being held while they conducted some sham investigation was not something I could afford.

    ¡°Yes, because just because I¡¯m armed is not a guarantee, Detective. I may still end up dead.¡±

    Rotting away in some cell ''til I started changing colors and they realized who I really was? Not an option.

    ¡°So you decided to instead fight six other people?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t have much of a choice then. Again, when he originally approached me he just wanted help in finding a safe place and healing for his wounds. He figured I either knew someone or was capable of it. Not too many dress this finely in the District.¡±

    I could hardly reach out to my patrons for help either. Lord Montague¡¯s reaction would probably be to immediately have my residence robbed to try and find the doses of elixir. That or hire another alchemist. If he weighed the knowledge of his son''s poisoning being revealed to his rivals against it coming out he leaned on the Watch to free me, I may as well prepare for a life in the Coffin.

    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you take him to the Watch instead? You could have just brought him to us.¡±

    ¡°Well, firstly time was of the essence. I wanted to bring him to a relatively empty place and heal his wounds as best I could. Otherwise, I don¡¯t think he would make it very far. Secondly detective, with no offense intended, the presence of the Watch in the district is a little light on the ground.¡±

    Lady Karsin would be more polite but her heir was cured. Short another successful poisoning attempt, her use for me was at an end for now. She might consider freeing me in the future if she needed me. That sentiment would last ''til my true face was revealed.

    ¡°Let¡¯s turn to something else,¡± the Detective said, admitting defeat for now. We¡¯d been over this same point a few different times. He kept trying different angles, but ultimately failed to find what he looked for.

    I would be out of here by now if this were just handling the aftermath of a simple street fight. Sure, multiple murders were attached, but that was nothing new for the Infernal Quarter. The Watch being in the Infernal Quarter already was a departure from the norm. Golvar¡¯s box had to be the reason to keep trying to make me crack. But they hadn¡¯t asked about where it was now once.

    ¡°Inventory was done on your belongings. We have a few questions on them.¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡± I asked, already knowing this would not be just be a few questions. Based on past experience, this would be an endurance test of questions over the potential legality or illegality of everything they considered of note on my possessions. They¡¯d once questioned my choice of boots and asked about who made them.

    That ended up being because they¡¯d tried to slip magical tracers in my next pair at the store. It¡¯d taken a week before I made the connection.

    ¡°We took a look at your license, and it appears to be legitimate, but even still some of the materials you were carrying seem quite peculiar to be walking around with.¡±

    Ah, that was good. I was hoping they wouldn¡¯t take a close look at it. It could stand up to anything but alchemical testing, the watermarks had been duplicated so well. There had been the risk they¡¯d run it to an alchemist for tests. They had apparently decided it wasn¡¯t worth the money.

    ¡°I¡¯m an alchemist officer,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s my job to walk around with things in my pockets people would find peculiar.¡±

    He ignored me and actually shuffled through the sheets of paper. They weren¡¯t entirely a prop, then.

    ¡°One saber, coated in blood, tinted with something that doesn¡¯t look very pleasant, does it?¡±

    ¡°Rat poison,¡± I answered. ¡°Hardly illegal.¡±

    ¡°Indicative of a cruel mind, striking someone with something like this. You like people bleeding?¡±

    ¡°I prefer people not to attempt stabbing, shooting, or otherwise hurting me, constable, but I¡¯ve learned over the years in the city that some people will not stop unless firmly given a message.¡±

    ¡°Various acids, potions, elixirs, including three mixtures that could be explosive if mixed properly.¡±

    Strange. No question about the Box, which is what I anticipated next. ¡°While true, so are the components of gunpowder, and those aren¡¯t considered illegal. And the combination of many different chemicals can produce explosives.¡±

    He grunted, deserted that line of questioning. He shouldn¡¯t have too many more items on the list.

    ¡°We looked through your coin purses, and found a rather large amount of pounds in one of them.¡±

    ¡°I expect I¡¯ll be receiving it back much lighter then,¡± I joked.

    ¡°An awful lot of coins to be carrying around on the street,¡± the copper observed. The corners of his mouth hadn¡¯t even flickered at my joke. They¡¯d carved this one out of stone.

    They were going to question every single one of my belongings, weren¡¯t they? ¡°I have recently come into a commission.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t suppose you can name who it¡¯s with?¡±

    If I wanted Montague after my neck, certainly. ¡°I can¡¯t name who with, but you can talk to Edward Edwards, the bartender at the Hells'' Own, or Tolman Greskatz, a fighter at the Holver arena. Both can confirm I was meeting with a client just before the attack.¡±

    ¡°Scum naming scum. I know Edwards, and his word is trash. We¡¯ll see what this Tolman has to say.¡±

    ¡°Is that all?¡± I asked, injecting just the right amount of weariness into it. Just enough to come off as tired but also unconcerned about whatever they may find.

    ¡°No, it is not,¡± the Watch officer replied with a scowl in his face. He glared at the doorway. ¡°It appears one of the department¡¯s consultants has taken an interest and requested some time to interview you, so you¡¯ll be in his hands for now.¡±

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    ¡°Now, Detective Mortray, no need to sound so glum. We¡¯ll only be borrowing your witness for a short amount of time.¡±

    Two gentlemen, both in well-appointed suits, both approaching their early forties. One of them was wide and short whereas the other was thin and tall. The short one¡¯s mutton-chopped visage was topped with a bowler, while his taller cleanshaven friend had a short mop of brown hair mixed with a nose like a hawk.

    Voltar and Dawes. Dramalsen¡¯s premier detective and his faithful companion. Sworn rivals and enemies of Versalicci and all in his employ. Personal bedevillers of criminals everywhere, but specifically the Black Flame and all who were part of it. Including me. They were the consultants.

    Oh. Fuck.

    There¡¯d be no room for error. I seized the nerves in my face and forced it into an expression of excitement.

    ¡°Mr. Voltar and Dawes! I¡¯m such a fan of your stories, it¡¯s such an honor to meet the both of you in person!¡±

    Good, good Malvia. I¡¯d almost convinced myself I¡¯d believed that. Beaming so much I could melt a hole in the wall, I desperately tried to pull a hand out of my restraints.

    ¡°I have a notebook, one of my alchemical field journals, in the Detective¡¯s possession. If it wouldn¡¯t bother either of you, I would greatly appreciate it if Mr. Dawes could sign it? Your work in forensics is an inspiration to us all! Oh, and your signature as well, Mr. Voltar, if that¡¯s not being too forward?¡±

    I¡¯d burn the journal immediately after-no wait I¡¯d need to transcribe the contents first-actually scratch both of those thoughts and sell the signatures to someone who actually wanted them for some easy money. Although I wasn¡¯t entirely lying about Dawes. The man was fiendishly good at his craft, and some of the articles he¡¯d penned were very illuminating.

    They¡¯d both fought me, both physically and in wits, many times in the past. I¡¯d never won. Versalicci had, several times, and held it over my head each time.

    Voltar looked at me, slightly grinning in slight amusement. Arrogant bastard. ¡°Miss, I believe you are here for an interrogation? Although maybe we can discuss it after you¡¯re released from custody.¡±

    ¡°Oh, my apologies, detectives. Of course.¡±

    I was going to find whatever pit of hell Golvar¡¯s soul had been consigned to, drag it back here, sculpt his face till his eyes were crushed and his tongue ripping itself to shreds. Then I¡¯d repeat it till I was satisfied. That dumb asshole had dragged me right back into everything I¡¯d spent five years of my life trying to escape.

    And I¡¯d cried over his death? I should have thrown his body into the chapel and let holy fire consume it.

    ¡°I¡¯d be happy to help such an esteemed pair, especially since you are so polite, unlike some people.¡±

    If the detective was bothered by my barb, it didn¡¯t show. The Doctor frowned while the Detective¡¯s polite smile remained precisely the same.

    ¡°Well, if that¡¯s the case, we have been listening to your current interview. You don¡¯t mind some further questions?¡±

    Interview. What a nice way to put it. I did notice the Watch officer¡¯s face glower at the admission others had been listening in. No love was lost there.

    ¡°Of course, not a problem.¡±

    ¡°Your story starts in the Hells'' Own tavern. You say you can¡¯t name the client you were meeting with?¡±

    ¡°A matter of confidentiality.¡± That, and wanting my head to remain atop my neck. I possessed no illusions about what Lord Montague would do if I revealed who I¡¯d been meeting.

    Finding out I¡¯d revealed it to the Constabulary and the Empire¡¯s most famed detective would probably just slow the process of removing my head.

    ¡°Understandable. I don¡¯t think it¡¯s of much importance to this case. The other infernal-blooded who was dead, do you know he is?¡±

    I shrugged. ¡°I think he said his name was Govlar? Gavlor? Golvar? Something along those lines. He accosted me in the alley. At first, I thought it was simply someone trying to mug me with a trick, but he was injured and asked for help. I did my best to patch up his wounds and was going to take him back to my apartment to stitch him up after stabilizing him. Then we were jumped along the way by the six others.¡±

    ¡°How altruistic of you to so willingly take another into your home to heal them.¡±

    I gave him a sheepish grin. ¡°I must admit altruism wasn¡¯t on my mind. He claimed to be from a rather wealthy group and a rather large payment in return for being healed. I figured at the worst, I could hand him off to the Watch after and see if there was some kind of bounty on him.¡±

    ¡°You assumed he was a criminal?¡±

    ¡°People with knives practically spilling out of their pocket and a dozen holes in them don¡¯t tend to be your average, law-abiding citizen, Mr. Voltar. Also, the tattoo was something of a giveaway.¡±

    ¡°Are you?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡±

    ¡°A law-abiding citizen. Would you consider yourself one of those?¡±

    ¡°As much as I can manage these days.¡± I thanked the Hells, the Heavens, and every little speck in between in the cosmic circle I wasn¡¯t a moron like so many were and relied entirely on Sculpts or potions to do my acting and lying for me.

    ¡°A trying task for all in your environs, I¡¯d imagine.¡±

    My smile lessened a little, and that wasn¡¯t just acting. ¡°We do the best with what we are given, Mr. Voltar.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to imply anything, Ms. Falara. Back to the matter of the dead Mr. Golvar, which is his name, did you know he is a member of the Versalicci gang?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t deny that I did. He had the flaming ram right on his arm. But that only meant I¡¯d more likely get something from helping him.¡±

    ¡°No issues with being paid by criminals?¡±

    I did my best to look embarrassed. It wasn¡¯t that hard, considering I actually was embarrassed over being dragged into this.

    ¡°A girl does have to eat, Mr. Voltar. And also rent apartments, buy clothes, and occasionally, when she has time, does other things as well for personal enjoyment. Until the gang caught up with us, I thought I would just be ensuring he didn¡¯t succumb to his wounds.¡±

    ¡°A reasonable assumption to make.¡±

    ¡°Is this all, Mr. Voltar?¡± I asked. ¡°Apologies, but I just have other errands I need to run today. I realize this is clearly a critical case to involve you, but I honestly can¡¯t think of anything else worth telling you.¡±

    It was a lie, but I wanted out of this and back home as quickly as I could manage. I did not care about Versalicci¡¯s schemes to bedevil his longtime adversary, and the same was true in reverse. I wanted to head home, collect my commissions, and avoid both of them.

    That polite smile replaced the thoughtful frown as soon as I finished talking. ¡°But of course, Ms. Falara. Just two more questions, and I think I¡¯ll have all the answers I need.¡±

    ¡°Ask away then, and I¡¯ll again do my best to answer.¡±

    ¡°Thank you. You have remarkably good aim with that acid. Did you craft those vials yourself?¡±

    ¡°No. It honestly wasn¡¯t that far a distance to throw them, Mr. Voltar. A dozen paces, maybe. I can get you in touch with the manufacturer if their design is somehow relevant?¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s fine. The second question, has a Biosculptor modified you?¡±

    My blood froze. Voltar suspected something. That wasn¡¯t an idle question for no reason. The Watch hadn¡¯t examined yet, so he couldn¡¯t have known for sure. Yet he clearly did. And I couldn¡¯t say no. The Watch had the facilities to check for Sculpts; they just took long lengths of time, time I thought too precious to them to spend on me.

    My struggles to think of an answer to dodge weren¡¯t leading anywhere.

    Something roared in my veins, an urge building in my stomach. Bite the foolish human¡¯s face off before he discovers anything. Gnawing hunger built inside, waiting for flesh to fulfill it and let it free.

    I¡¯d frozen my nerves and hurriedly focused on the detective''s face instead. Outwit him, don¡¯t bite him, and don¡¯t feed what was currently trying to make it¡¯s way out of my gut.

    Diabolism. Reignited since I¡¯d bitten into that human¡¯s front. I could not let it have a scrap of power. As bad as revealing my Sculpting would be, doing any diabolism would result in my head being taken off my shoulders.

    ¡°I¡¯ve had a few sculpts done recently. Trying to look better for my clients, cosmetic ones, to well¡­look more human for them. I had a small additional stomach added, linked to an extra pipe in my throat. I spat its contents at one of the gang members earlier today.¡±

    ¡°Those are all of them?¡± Voltar asked.

    ¡°The only ones currently installed in me, yes.¡± The nerve controls were mainly used for cosmetic purposes, so it was not technically a lie. That would be my claim if they did do the testing process. Curse the fact Sculpts were detectable. The rare shapechangers could adjust their bodies without a sign of detection, but Sculpture always leaves a mark; you just need to look deep enough.

    He nodded. ¡°Then I believe our interview is done. You are free to go.¡±

    The Watchman sputtered as Voltar stood up. ¡°What nonsense is this, Voltar? That is not your decision to make!¡±

    Voltar had already left the room, and the Watchman followed after, leaving me alone in my room. Well, he certainly hadn¡¯t changed a bit.

    There was an argument going on the other side of the door. Heated but too low for me to make out words. I could guess what was being argued over. The Watch detective wanted me examined now, especially to see what would happen if my cosmetic Sculpts were reverted. Voltar was apparently arguing against that for reasons I couldn¡¯t begin to guess.

    I couldn¡¯t wait for that conversation to finish. It was too high of a risk. Escaping the Coffin would be¡­tricky but better than waiting for potential doom. I shifted in my chair and tried to figure if I could slip out of these by dislocating my hand. It would be a tight fit.

    The watch officer came back with two other members of the watch. ¡°You¡¯re free to go.¡±

    ¡°Excuse me?¡± I asked.

    His expression, already stormy, quickly resembled a typhoon. ¡°I said you¡¯re free to leave. Haskell, Morris, free this one and get her out of here.¡±

    Being escorted out of the Coffin felt like being in a waking dream. I nodded politely to Mr. Dawes and continued following the two officers through a small maze of corridors and rooms. They hadn¡¯t adjusted the layout since I¡¯d last been there. We collected my belongings along the way.

    To my shock, they had not lifted a single pound. What strange malaise gripped the Watch these days?

    ¡°Miss Falara, please wait a moment?¡±

    ¡°Mr. Dawes?¡± I turned back to look at the anatomist.

    ¡°You wanted my signature?¡±

    ¡°Oh, yes. Thank you for reminding me. I forgot after the interview with Mr. Voltar.¡±

    ¡°He does have that effect on people at times,¡± Dawes remarked as I pulled out one of my field notebooks. He briefly read the first page. ¡°You walk the Underground?¡±

    ¡°On occasion. The best ingredients require effort when coin is lacking.¡±

    Partly a truth. My effort found some of the best ingredients. Grave robbing made up a good chunk of the rest.

    ¡°Maybe we¡¯ll meet again, and you can tell me about it. I¡¯ve only been briefly.¡±

    ¡°Maybe.¡±

    Hopefully never. I¡¯d had my fill of these two already. A swift exit to anywhere else might be in order.

    The night sky greeted me outside. How long had I been inside, to lose this much time? No matter. What things I¡¯d meant to get done today would keep ''til tomorrow.

    ¡°Do you want an escort home, Miss?¡±

    ¡°Hrrm?¡± One of my escorts had spoken up, orcish blood, much taller than my current body, very well-groomed. She also seemed quite earnest with that miss, so maybe the Watch was beginning to change. At the bare minimum, ¡®Foulspawn¡¯, ¡®Devil¡¯s Get¡¯, and a few other ones I didn¡¯t like even thinking seemed less frequent a word.

    ¡°Mr. Voltar said we were to escort you home by carriage if you wanted to, miss?¡± she asked.

    ¡°No, thank you. I¡¯ll walk. The night sky is rather enjoyable to me.¡±

    We both looked up at the layers of smog currently occupying the night sky and helping obscure the stars from sight.

    ¡°Well, on better nights, but I prefer to walk regardless.¡±

    ¡°Alone, on the streets?¡± The other watchmen observed. ¡°Foulspawn ain¡¯t likely to be seen kindly, and women on the street alone are never safe.¡±

    Ah, there was what I¡¯d expected, although he hadn¡¯t seemed too vitriolic in tone. And bless her heart, his partner stared at him in a mixture of embarrassment and anger.

    I spoke first before an argument could start. ¡°I think I can handle myself, constable, although I do appreciate the concern. Do thank Mr. Voltar for his kindness if you could? It is much appreciated.¡±

    ¡°It¡± was most likely to pinpoint precisely where my dwelling was. The Watch probably had snuck on me while I was inside. I¡¯d have to check all my possessions for tracers. And my coat and dress, which by now were both filthy. Dried blood, stains of something I didn¡¯t want to identify. I¡¯d take them to cleaners tomorrow but they were likely both ruined. I had bigger problems on my mind. Empire¡¯s-greatest-detective shaped problems.

    I was unsure if he knew I was Malvia, but he suspected something. I bid my goodbyes to the two watch officers and set out into the street. It was late in the evening, and as I made my way to the end of it, not a soul stirred.

    No one being on the street didn¡¯t change a thing; I was being followed.

 Chapter 7 - Never Quite Home

    I shivered as I walked down the empty street.

    My clothes had a few new holes in them courtesy of the Pure-blood thugs. On top of that, they weren¡¯t designed for nightlife. My faithful coat was also barely hanging on.

    It still provided some comfort from the chill of night and the bite of the wind. Small comforts. I should revel in them. I could remember a time when I didn¡¯t have this protection against wind and rain. My mind wandered down that road for a second, then recoiled. Best not to dwell on those who¡¯d been there with me. The ones still alive could be counted on one hand.

    I clopped down the street on my hooves, walking across cobblestones. You could tell which part of the city you were in. The most wealthy areas? Paved. Next rung down the ladder? Cobblestones. The rest was a transition through a whole range of pebbles, gravel, wood, and dirt in the poorest districts on the city''s outskirts.

    On a rainy day, knowing which roads were the latter was essential. In bad years, some people still died in the mud.

    Up above me, the stars did their best to shine through the smog. Only a few factories had opened and were already doing their best to obscure the sky. Even the moons looked less clear, the edges of Vertiel and Maviel waxy and unclear.

    The light they reflected down onto the streets at least was clear, adding to the glow of the lamps. This close to the Watch, none of them had been vandalized, and their glow illuminated the lack of people around me.

    The nightlife of the city typically was more active. Drunks, ne¡¯er-do-wells, pickpockets, revelers, and others would be packing most streets. Some streets were free of that. The reasons varied from each, typically some combination of ¡°Rich¡±, ¡°Magic¡±, or ¡°Both in enough quantities to hire private guards to keep the riff-raff away from the houses.¡±

    In the case of Old Bell Road, being host to a Watch prison and headquarters kept all but the most respectable people off the street at night. No one wanted to fill some watchmen¡¯s quota.

    I didn¡¯t know why it was called Old Bell Road. I¡¯d heard over a dozen stories, some of which got mixed up in the dark and had mutant offspring carrying the traits of both. Sometimes, there¡¯d be three or more parents for those children¡ªthe way of gossip about barely remembered history.

    Most of the street held businesses and restaurants along the flanks, stretching down to its friendlier end. The Sapphire, at only five years of age, remained one of the city¡¯s newest attractions. It was an anchor from the other, darker end where I currently walked.

    The centerpiece of this side, the Coffin, still loomed over me. It wouldn¡¯t be out of my sight for miles more. Dull-grey towers watched over the surrounding city, twelve in total forming the outer bounds of the prison. The only windows on the exterior walls were five stories up and filled with heavy iron bars. I could see the gleam of the occasional magical sigil underneath each, ready to go off if anything bigger than a hand passed through those bars. The Coffin had been built only a few decades ago as both headquarters and prison for the Watch, one of several to replace the old Central prison, which was now just a curiosity kept around because it was too damn big to demolish safely.

    It had been a joke. I¡¯d been inside to tour, never as a prisoner. Crumbling walls and flaking mortar, even during its so-called prime, those kept inside its walls practically walked out. The spells used to build it so tall had eaten most of its budget. That and being large enough at the time to hold a tenth of Dramelsen¡¯s population. Rebellion had been a big concern back then.

    Those spells made it a danger to tear down safely. They were also going to run out eventually. Woe betide anyone walking by when Central finally collapsed.

    Maybe it could do us all a favor and crush some people around it. Central was right in the middle of where the hobnobs, sorcerous heavyweights, guild leaders, and members of parliament lived and worked.

    I¡¯d been walking this entire time, entering and leaving darkness in between the streelights. The shadows seemed to move about as I passed by, just my mind playing tricks. Not every infernal received the same traits from their cursed blood, and I lacked the ability to see in the dark so many of my peers possessed.

    One of the streetlamps was out, leaving an entire swathe of that street side dark. I gave it a wide berth. Was there someone leaning up against it? Tall, too tall to be that skinny.

    The shadowed figure suddenly moved, falling towards me. I drew my saber, cutting at it as it plummeted towards me in the dark.

    My saber drawn, I stared down at a fallen ladder. One stile now spotted a gash from where my saber had struck.

    A nervous giggle escaped my throat as I rushed for the light of the next streetlamp. Just a ladder.

    No one lurked nearby. It was probably some junior lamplighter who¡¯d rushed their work and left their ladder and the streetlamp improperly lit. The lamplighters were long gone by now. There¡¯d been talk of some replacement from the minds at the Ironworks, cheaper, more efficient, shining brighter light.

    For now, the dim light made these patches of shadow the perfect places for ambush.

    My hands shook a little in my coat pockets as I continued walking. I was probably safe. The Watch would have tails on me, and they¡¯d intervene just to keep their lead alive.

    Versalicci knew who I was, though. His influence was reduced, and he was nowhere near the titan he¡¯d seemed so little time ago. But still, even a fallen titan cast a long shadow.

    I heard boot leather clacking on stone behind me. I didn¡¯t turn around. That would give away I could hear them. I kept my pace, hand reaching for my saber¡¯s hilt. The pace of the clacks was growing faster and closer. They weren¡¯t even bothering to hide their approach.

    I didn¡¯t wait for them to get within stabbing distance. Whirling around, I held my saber at the ready to stab my too-obvious stalker in the face.

    He immediately fell to the ground, a controlled motion that put a leg within kicking distance of my knee and a pistol aimed at my chest. The moonlight illuminated the pistol in his hand, but more importantly, his face.

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    I breathed out, tension easing out of me. I offered a hand down to him.

    ¡°Tolman, what are you doing out here?¡± I asked.

    Tolman took my hand, getting back to his feet. He eyed my saber as he adjusted his coat. His fingers whirled about, telling me a message while obscured in his jacket.

    Safe to talk? He asked in the signs of our old gang.

    No. Tails from the watch I signed back.

    He didn¡¯t bother looking around. Even if we did spot them, there wasn¡¯t much we could do about them now.

    ¡°Trying to find you. Word going around the district was that there¡¯d been a dust-up between one of Versalicci¡¯s thugs and some human gang inside the district. Pricked my curiosity, so I went to take a look. Got there by the late afternoon, place was swarming with the Watch. Talked to a few of them I knew, and they mentioned someone matching your description being carted off. So I started coming over here, see if I could get you out, protecting your hide. Then you almost stuck a hole in mine in return.¡±

    ¡°Apologies, I was on edge,¡± I said. ¡°Thank you. Truly, thank you. That¡¯s no excuse, though. What excuse did you tell Arsene?¡±

    Tolman¡¯s husband knew me from the real old days. It¡¯s why he¡¯d forbidden his spouse from helping me out, for good reason.

    ¡°Eh, wanted to go drinking. It was his turn to take care of the children, I think he was just glad I wasn¡¯t going to the fighting ring. I think he¡¯d prefer anything to that.¡±

    ¡°If you believe that, maybe tell him who you spent your night with,¡± I replied. ¡°I don¡¯t know who he¡¯d try to kill first, you or me.¡±

    ¡°Considering he¡¯s married to me and told me once the only reason god let you walk on earth was to serve as an example of what not to do in life, I think you.¡±

    ¡°Your husband always excelled in threat assessment. He¡¯ll find out that you are out here with me sooner or later, I imagine. What will you tell him then?¡±

    ¡°That we both owe you, and he¡¯ll learn to live with it. So, what happened to get you thrown in the Coffin?¡±

    I paused, considering my words. Watch members tailing me would be certain, but would they be close enough to overhear us? Best not to risk that.

    ¡°A most exciting day. First, I got mixed up with this gang member, as you know. Then I get thrown in a prison cell and interrogated by a rather rude detective about my involvement. There was a bright spot, though: I met Mr. Voltar and Mr. Dawes in person. The esteemed detective and his trusty partner in the flesh. Can you even begin to guess how lucky I must have gotten Tolman?¡±

    Tolman was currently trying not to look like he¡¯d missed a step at me mentioning Voltar and Dawes. ¡°Lucky, that¡¯s a way of putting it. Worth going to jail for it?¡±

    ¡°Oh, please. I wasn¡¯t in jail. I was merely being detained for questioning.¡±

    ¡°Jail is jail. They ask you anything?¡±

    ¡°A few different questions. I was forced to admit my Sculpts, which might lead to some issues if others in the district find out I¡¯ve been trying to look¡­well, less Infernal. And I don¡¯t want Scaligi getting in trouble.¡±

    There, a juicy bone tossed to whoever might be listening for why I¡¯d hidden my Sculpts. It wouldn¡¯t hold up to much scrutiny. It might get them chasing Scaligi, which would be interesting to watch from the sidelines.

    Scaligi had been dead for eighteen years now. It didn¡¯t stop people in the District from pretending he was alive to throw the Watch off. No one would ever find the body.

    We¡¯d reached far enough away from the Coffin that the city''s nightlife was beginning to appear. We kept a fair distance from the most drunken of the night-time residents. We weren¡¯t in Infernal District territory yet. Anyone not an Infernal could be the worst kind of drunk to an Infernal. The ones where alcohol would help convince them that no one would care what you did to an Infernal.

    Only a few races ranked lower than us on that totem pole. The Rats. The Moles. The Keltish, who, despite being human, apparently were considered even lesser than us just for being from a slightly smaller island.

    I guessed foreigners from far-off lands were even lower. The newspapers certainly thought so.

    ¡°I think worrying about Scaligi should be low on your list of priorities. You¡¯re not worried about those two having their eye on you?¡±

    ¡°Of course not. I¡¯ve hardly done anything wrong. I don¡¯t see any reason why this needs to be more than an abnormal incident to be put in the past.¡±

    Hopefully, that¡¯s all it would be. I didn¡¯t need any of this back in my life. Occasional trips to the jail for suspicion of crimes were fine, maybe even a stay of a year or two. Unwanted figures from my past resurfacing? I¡¯d rather live permanently in the Underground and be concerned about giant ants eating through my walls.

    You didn¡¯t have to worry about the ramifications of killing giant ants. You just killed them.

    ¡°Falara? Were you going to say anything else? Falara?¡±

    That jerked me out of contemplation. ¡°Sorry, I was lost in thought.¡±

    ¡°As you do. What about?¡±

    ¡°Giant ants.¡±

    Tolman visibly struggled to respond to that one. His mouth worked silently for a few moments as his face worked its way through a platter of emotions before settling on incredulity.

    I cut off whatever he was about to say. ¡°Forget about the giant ants. Did you have any plans for tonight before coming to make sure I was okay?¡±

    ¡°Well, since you¡¯re alright, I might grab a pint, nurse that for a bit. Head home a few hours after.¡±

    ¡°You and Arsene aren¡¯t on the outs, are you?¡±

    ¡°No. I just want a break. If you think you¡¯re opposed to me trying Ironhand Jack, you should have heard his argument with me over it.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s probably -¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to discuss it. Are you going anywhere besides your house tonight? Definitely not the lab?¡±

    ¡°Definitely not the lab Tolman. I don¡¯t think I¡¯d have time even if I wanted to. I need to be up by 6:30 tomorrow. Although,¡± I considered the tails undoubtedly following us. ¡°I may have a reason to stop in the tavern. Briefly. Not the Hells'' Own, that would take me too far past my apartment. I don¡¯t want to cross the Infernal District¡¯s heart twice.¡±

    ¡°The Palms, then?¡±

    ¡°Does the owner still insist on an all-vegetable platter?¡±

    ¡°Yes, but I thought you just wanted a drink.¡±

    ¡°I haven¡¯t had the opportunity to eat since morning. Outside of the Watch trying to have me eat a rodent. A sandwich might be in order. Say about this big?¡±

    As I brought my hands up to mime the size of my preferred meal, I quickly flashed a few signs at him.

    Compensation needed coat.

    Three words had been all I could manage to obscure. It received a raised eyebrow in response. ¡°Can you even fit a sandwich of that size in you?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m starving. Carnly¡¯s?¡±

    If Tolman¡¯s eyebrow had raised before, it threatened to separate from his head now. I¡¯d named an old name from our time with Versalicci, and he knew why.

    ¡°I was just there last week,¡± he said. ¡°Old man¡¯s eyesight is fading, so don¡¯t be shocked if the order ends up wrong. Sure you¡¯re game for it? Their food is pretty spicy. And we already talked earlier about how you don¡¯t like stronger drinks. You want to make a meal out of both of those?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to have to. It¡¯s the closest place to my route home. After that, I¡¯m collapsing in my bed after doing two things.¡±

    ¡°And what might those be?¡±

    ¡°Cleaning and a good tonic to ease my sleep. I really do need to be up early.¡±

    That wasn¡¯t a lie. I needed to see Halmon, see what ingredients might have fallen off the back of the wagon or were in shallow grave and were now for sale. Failing that, finding who had given him that initial tip. The extract I¡¯d made from the dead wyvern¡¯s brain seemed very fortunately timed.

    I doubted the poisonings would stop. One was an isolated incident, two a coincidence. If a third occurred, it would be a pattern, one I intended to profit off of if it wouldn¡¯t kill me first.

    Unfortunately, I had two matters to take care of before I could drift off unburdened to my dreams: the box and making sure my lab was undisturbed.

    That meant losing my tail. The figurative one, not the literal one currently curled around my leg. Which meant going to Carnly¡¯s. I couldn¡¯t imagine the old man would recognize me, considering he couldn¡¯t recognize Tolman, but I¡¯d avoided him till now like I did most of Versalicci¡¯s associates.

    We¡¯d be forced to meet again by necessity. There was no better way to lose a tail.

 Chapter 8 - In search of Sandwich and Box

    Carnly¡¯s was just ahead on the right, and I could already hear the raucous sounds of the night crowd. Two patrons stumbled out and almost immediately began losing their meals on the side of the street. Light drinkers.

    ¡°Do me a favor and order for me if you don¡¯t mind,¡± I said to Tolman. ¡°If you¡¯ll pardon me for being crude, I couldn¡¯t really relieve myself in the cell either. Could you order my sandwich and drink? Mead, lightly sulfured, and surprise me on the sandwich? I¡¯ve not been here before, I¡¯ll trust in your experience with their menu.¡±

    Were any of my Watch tails magically inclined? How precise were these tracers?

    I¡¯d find out the answers to both very soon.

    We entered Carnly¡¯s, walking through a haze of tobacco smoke. I barely spared a glance at the interior, just confirming it was a crowded night, and immediately headed to a doorway next to the bar. The clientele hadn¡¯t changed much since I¡¯d first started coming here. You went to Carnly¡¯s because you were out of other options or for the different services he offered.

    At least it was only tobacco smoke these days.

    I spent as little time as possible in the public area of the tavern. Loyalty was cheap in Carnly¡¯s, and I wouldn¡¯t be hard to identify here. A somewhat decent dress or bloodstained clothes on there own would be remarkable here. Both? Everyone would remember that.

    An employee lay slumped near the doorway, pretending to be asleep. Underneath a slanted hat, eyes would be watching me.

    ¡°I want to talk to the Old Man about losing some tails,¡± I said. My eyes flicked back towards the entrance. How long would I have till the Watch came in?

    The employee looked me over, then nodded. ¡°Door¡¯s open. The Old Man will be able to talk to you in a bit.¡±

    I strode through quickly, closing the door most of the way. I left a crack to peer through, watching the tavern. Tolman had settled in at the bar, already ordering his own meal and a sandwich I would unfortunately never eat.

    Three of the Watch walked in a half minute later. A pair of infernals presenting as male and female, and a gnome. They¡¯d tried to dress down to fit the district, but there was no taking the Watchperson out of some people. One of the infernals immediately went towards the bathrooms, one went towards the side entrance, and the gnome sat down next to Tolman.

    Within seconds, they were amiably chatting with each other.

    Sighing, I considered what I was doing. This was not going to allay watch suspicions, but Katheryn Falara was already a person of interest to them for various dealings, so her trying to ditch a tail would be expected. Going to Carnley''s might suggest a level of connection to the underworld greater than I wanted, but it wasn''t out of character.

    Of course, it would make them more suspicious of me in the short term, but I could live with that if it meant getting rid of whatever Versalicci''s box was without anyone seeing. After that, nothing I would be doing should make any more suspicions arise and I could quietly wait things out.

    Hearing the sound of a wheel on wood behind me, I turned around.

    Carnly had traded his cane for a wheelchair but was still a cantankerous old geezer, staring at me with squinting eyes. His skin was more brittle, and the signs of age were more visible but still recognizably Carnly. My eyes glanced at the sawed-off stumps of his horns. You never got used to seeing them on the oldest among us. A relic of a time when they¡¯d been banned along with any other physical trace of our infernal blood. There¡¯d be a matching stump where his tail used to be.

    ¡°You¡¯re new,¡± he said.

    ¡°Kathryn Falara. I¡¯m with Tolman, but more importantly, I am willing to pay well for a good change of clothes.¡±

    Carnly frowned. ¡°I don¡¯t like new customers bursting back here, especially with Watch on their tails. It stinks of something I¡¯m not risking my neck for. Especially when I don¡¯t know if you¡¯re Watch yourself.¡±

    Maybe staying away from here for so long wasn¡¯t the best idea. Carnly had no frame of reference for me not being an undercover watch officer, and I could hardly call Tolman over. I knew other customers of his as Falara, but I hadn¡¯t seen any of them here.

    ¡°You can talk to Blind Marsel, Keevo, Dressa Varacts. They will attest I¡¯m no member of the Watch.¡±

    I received an unenthused grunt in reply. I couldn¡¯t waste time negotiating for long. The Watch would have figured out I wasn¡¯t in the bathroom by now. Even assuming one was grilling Tolman, it wouldn¡¯t take long for the other two to search most of the tavern¡¯s floor space.

    ¡°Triple your usual rate.¡±

    He weighed the offer for a few seconds, and I became uncomfortably aware of raised voices behind me.

    ¡°Done. Dovel, open up!¡±

    One of the large casks swung open, revealing itself as a fake. Easily large enough for someone to slip through, a door-shaped hole dominated the newly revealed surface. Another Infernal waited on the other side.

    I wasted no time running for it, and it swiftly closed behind me.

    I could still hear behind me, even if the words weren¡¯t clear. Muffled as they were, they were definitely audible, and for that reason, my own mouth remained firmly shut.

    The conversation continued. I could guess the framework of it. Someone had seen me duck back here. The Watch, not bothering with disguises anymore, would have come back here. Carnly would claim he did not know me, and invite them to search back here. They¡¯d keep that up for a little bit.

    The barrel moved a little bit, the sound of a hammer. I could make out Carnly yelling about them wasting his good liquor. There was some alcohol stored in a small section in the front for demonstration purposes.

    The trackers must not be very precise. They could only tell I was still in the building.

    The other infernal watched me dispassionately. A hand on a flintlock was a decent warning. Do anything to give away this back room exists, you take a bullet in exchange.

    I heard the conversation trail off, the sound of people moving away. The fading squeak of Carnly¡¯s wheelchair then the door closing.

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    Dovel immediately stowed his pistol away and led me inside. Wooden stalls lined one side of the room; on the other, a massive series of bins contained assortments of clothes.

    Dovel shoved a piece of paper with a list of names into my hands. ¡°You know how this operates?¡±

    ¡°Tolman¡¯s told me the basics.¡± I¡¯d done it myself several times before. Trade out your clothes for a new selection from whatever Carnly has. A beggar would be given the clothes a few hours after you left and would then head off, along with any trackers that might be in the clothing. Leave any other possessions and come back to grab them at a later time.

    A simple but effective countermeasure once tracking sorcery had become more commonly used.

    ¡°Select a name on the list; a beggar will be told the clothes came from this person. Might want to pick a woman¡¯s name since you¡¯re ditching the dress."

    The list was people either dead or thought dead. Ah, perfect.

    ¡°Malvia¡­Harrow? Is that really a last name?¡±

    ¡°One she ended up getting for lack of an actual one.¡±

    I did have a last name, but I could hardly argue the point. The street name had stuck more firmly.

    ¡°I¡¯ll go with that one. I would love to hear the story of how that name-¡°

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter. She¡¯s long dead and buried underground. I¡¯ll let whatever bum is willing to wear your clothes know. Take the first stall on the left and hang the clothing over the door to be collected. You have three minutes to get the clothes off, half an hour to pick out your new ones. I¡¯ll show you the way out when you¡¯re done. There¡¯ll be a bin in the stall, if nothing works, I¡¯ll have one of the girls wheel in another bin. Any weapons and other stuff we¡¯ll hold onto till you¡¯re ready to collect it.¡±

    I didn¡¯t waste any time. It was a pity to get rid of everything, but I did not want the Watch tracking me, especially to my destinations for tonight. Given a little more time, I would have seen how to find what tracers had been planted and salvaged the clothes.

    Well, looking at the bloodied, torn-up nature of my dress salvage may be a bit too hopeful.

    Sighing, I slid my saber under the stall door. It had served me well, and even if I had another at home, it felt wrong to get rid of this one so quickly.

    ¡°Stop getting so sentimental,¡± I scolded myself. ¡°You¡¯ll be collecting it tomorrow.¡±

    I quickly removed my clothes and everything else on my person but my coin purses and keyring. Was there a chance a tracker was among them? It was entirely possible. Would I trust Carnly with my money? Absolutely not. The same went for my keys.

    I turned my attention to the clothes bin, picking through the options.

    I could do a variation of my old standby, albeit with sizes that would fit my new frame. However, best not to give Carnly any indications of who I really was. In hindsight, picking my own name had probably been a mistake.

    I settled for a dull grey greatcoat, a blouse, and trousers, both in dark blue. Not the most inspired choices, they were unlikely to draw comments on the street. They generally fit and were in decent enough condition. A rather large hat that definitely did not fit didn¡¯t help the ensemble but did help conceal my face.

    My old clothes were already missing from the stall door. They were destined for some beggar in some mockery of charity.

    One could only hope the Watch wasn¡¯t too rough with him, her, or them when the coppers realized they¡¯d been had.

    I opened the stall door and was greeted by both Carnly and Dovel. The old man grinned, threatening to split his face in half with its wideness.

    ¡°Before we let you go, gotta cough up your pay girl. Twenty pounds.¡±

    I reached for my purse. ¡°I thought the rate is usually four pounds. We agreed on triple the normal rate.¡±

    ¡°Well, tonight it¡¯s whatever a third of twenty is.¡±

    ¡°Fourteen?¡±

    ¡°Twenty,¡± Carnly insisted, and Dovel¡¯s hand went to his pistol. ¡°Or the watch finds out you were in my storage room all along.¡±

    I sighed. There wasn¡¯t much negotiation. I didn¡¯t have enough to cover that in my usual coinpurse. I pulled out the advance from Lord Montague, and counted the coins out one at a time inside the bag. No reason to hint how many were actually in there.

    From the look in Carnly¡¯s eye, he already had a pretty good guess. The entire district would know about my newfound wealth by tomorrow. Had he already known, or had he just gotten very lucky in trying to pressure me?

    It didn¡¯t matter. I handed Carnly his coins and tried to resist the urge to cut into his face.

    ¡°Your Watch tails have already left, so you can leave whenever you want.¡±

    Probably best to leave now. Even if there were other ones lurking around keeping an eye out in case I showed up again, the sooner I got this done, the sooner I¡¯d be able to sleep in my own bed.

    My stomach grumbled. Maybe I should have just let the tails follow me and head home. My lab could wait till tomorrow, and I should be trying to avoid my other destination.

    At the bare minimum, I should be grabbing a sandwich.

    Sighing, I turned around, considering going back and rejoining Tolman at the bar. Order a sandwich, take it easy, and leave things till tomorrow. Get drunk, enjoy some time with a friend.

    Maybe another night.

    ***

    The ruins of Halspus cathedral glowed in the night air, pure white light suffusing the surfaces of toppled walls.

    I eyed them nervously as I approached. Spilling blood must have triggered some of the magic still infused in the church or an entity bound to it. Either way, no one in the surrounding buildings had kept their lights on.

    They probably barricaded their windows for all the good that would do if something unleashed a wave of divine magic here.

    No one appeared to be keeping watch. Perhaps the Watch had given up on maintaining a presence this deep in the Infernal District. More likely, the assigned members had decided to partake in drinking, the most celebrated of the Watch¡¯s civil duties among its members. It used to be you¡¯d find the Watch doing that more than their actual job.

    It''s less common these days, but removing all the old dregs from a barrel took time. Possibly forever.

    Then again, they might just be hiding, lying in wait, and observing who came and went. At least they wouldn¡¯t be hearing my stomach give me away. I had lingered long enough to grab a sandwich and briefly talk to Tolman before leaving Carnly¡¯s.

    Hidden away from the view of society from polite to rude on the unlit streets of the Infernal District, I¡¯d devoured that sandwich in a way that would be declared profane if people had seen me. In my defense, it was a remarkably good sandwich. I should let Tolman order my food more often.

    It was tempting to hand it off to Voltar and let him and Versalicci spar with each other while I slunk off into the distance. Delivering it to the City Watch would have the same effect and hopefully take some of their attention off of me. But that would mean antagonizing Versalicci instead.

    I didn''t have any affection for him, but he''d apparently known who I was and chosen to leave me alone. Delivering the box to his enemies could easily change that.

    Enough debating myself. I needed to get this done quickly. I moved towards the ruins, trying to stick to the shadows. It was a bit difficult when half the ruins were glowing, but I did what I could.

    The bodies were gone, although bloodstains and tiny puddles of foul-smelling dried acid dotted the ground. This close, their acrid stench burned my nostrils. No weapons, even the remnants of glass from my vials, were gone. They¡¯d picked the scene clean.

    The glowing chunks of rubble were entirely inside the old church¡¯s boundaries. That did not include where I¡¯d stashed the box earlier today.

    I approached nervously, half-expecting the glowing white light to reach out and zap me for the temerity of spilling blood near the cathedral. Rumors abounded there was still an angel bound to it. I doubted that having Infernals polluted with the bloodline of its sworn enemies living all around them made the celestial happy.

    Still, I reached where I¡¯d hidden the box without the divine smiting me. Perhaps the gods smiled at me?

    Doubtful. I¡¯d already been born in their bad books, and I doubted that much of what I¡¯d done in the last few years had moved me out of them.

    I reached through the crevice I had put the box and found nothing but rough stone in there.

    I didn¡¯t feel around any further. I brought my arm back and quickly walked away, keeping an eye out for any surprise Watchmen.

    None surfaced. Duty was indeed a dead concept to whoever was supposed to keep watch.

    So, the box was gone. Someone had clearly taken it. That or it had phased through solid stone.

    I suspected many things about Versalicci. His getting his claws around a phase-beast in a box was not high on the list.

    My step was lighter, and my heart a bit less heavy as I walked through the alleys. I greeted a few drunks along the way with a customary greeting of polite disengagement and the occasional slap with a hand or tail if they tried grabbing me.

    Whoever had taken the box was none of my concern. I could quietly slink back to my old life, thoroughly disentangled from my bloodline. It wouldn¡¯t mean moving myself and my mother, which was a relief.

    Now I just needed to check the lab and this day would finally, finally be over.

 Chapter 9 - The closet is the best place to store kidnapping victims

    The Infernal District lit up at night.

    No oil streetlamps, of course. Even as old as those were, they¡¯d only made it to the district''s outskirts. Instead, assortments of lanterns and interior candles lit up the district. The city operated some of those, but most were not and would flicker off as their owners went to bed. No one wanted to use up fuel they didn¡¯t need.

    Money was tight here. Some were born who didn¡¯t know the feeling of having to keep track of every half-penny. Those lucky few. I had not numbered among their ranks. I remembered scraping and clawing for anything I could grasp, not long after they¡¯d kicked my mother into the district for birthing me.

    Saying every Infernal was poor or a member of the District would be an outright lie, but for the majority, both those facts held true. Even to the other scum of the empire, devil blood marked you as scum, so the other slums were out. Anything higher than that was more polite in their methods, but the results were the same. Very few escaped the district.

    Those who did typically tried it via the military, but most of them ended up slinking back here after their tours of duty. The guarantees were for them alone, not for families, although some were lobbying to change that. You either were a couple hoping both survived your tour, or you escaped to the Fields by yourself.

    The other solution to leaving the district was a truly staggering amount of money. Or trying to leave the empire. That rarely ended well.

    I wrinkled my nose, having just escaped the grasp of the district¡¯s lone tannery. Another indication of our disfavored status. Tanneries were kept on the outskirts of towns precisely because of this stench, but Infernals had to stay within working distance of the district. And Jasper Leatherworks was one of the most stable employers around.

    Most people just pretended not to notice the smell, although I would have to bathe if I didn¡¯t want to stink of the leatherwork. It seemed a minor complaint but one that would be avoidable if we were just allowed to move from the district.

    The situation wasn¡¯t much better elsewhere in the empire. Every city had its Infernal District, and rural towns and villages were much less tolerant of us than the cities.

    In fairness, our forefathers and mothers were responsible in part for the Infernal Empire when the Prince Below married the Princess Above. It took time to pay off the crimes committed back then. The scars from those reigns still lay deep, healing slowly or not at all.

    Some might call it unfair but given the choice between today and the historical suggestions of Duke Brixton? That the elimination of the Infernal Taint should not end at Her Most Profane Highness Inferna? I¡¯d take this over our entire race being extinguished.

    The night streets were bare enough that you could keep a dozen feet between yourself and anyone else the entire time.

    It hadn¡¯t always been like this. Back when I ran with Voltar, the district had five times the Infernals it did now. The aftermath of his downfall, the riots, and heavy conscription since had reduced it to a more manageable size, leaving many buildings unoccupied.

    They were filling back up, though. In some ways, comparing us to vermin did hold true.

    ¡°Alms for a war veteran, miss?¡±

    An Infernal lay against the wall, rags drawn closely around them. Usually, you had about a hundred fake veterans along your path, begging for whatever coins they could get.

    I gave this one a once-over and was inclined to believe he told the truth. Waxy, disfigured skin, with patches of it pale like the color had been drained out of it?

    ¡°You get back from the fight with the Avenlanders?¡± I asked.

    He gave me a grin lacking half of its teeth. ¡°Earlier campaign than that, miss. Claiming underground land from the dwarfs. Got sprayed by some fire-spitting thing of theirs. Got lucky.¡±

    ¡°I have a few pounds I can spare, just a second.¡±

    Very lucky indeed to survive the alchemist¡¯s fire with only discolored skin, but I was inclined to believe him. It would be easier to disguise yourself as a veteran of Avenland.

    ¡°They say they''re going to open up the Fields for us!¡± The beggar said.

    Others on the street paused, trying to see what the noise was about. Me, I finished counting out three pounds in small coinage. I could afford to be generous today, despite the efforts of leeches like Carnly.

    ¡°Get yourself some good food. Maybe some better clothing. Even if you¡¯ve found an abandoned building, it will get cold come winter.¡±

    Winter¡¯s bite always took lives, even with so many uninhabited buildings to break into and claim as your own. The quality of building here after the Infernal Empire had always been abysmal. And the sellers of oil and coal knew when people would be at their most desperate to buy fuel to keep their families warm.

    My lab was one of those buildings that¡¯d been cleared out as the population had been bled out of the district. Setting it up between two different apartments had been burdensome, especially until I¡¯d taken a week to put a hole in the wall between them.

    It took ten more minutes to reach there, sparing a quick check on one of the ground floor buildings. It seemed the landlord I rented these apartments from was out. If only the landlady for my actual apartment was gone as often as he was.

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    I walked inside the darkness, a little unnerved. Inside, there was barely any noise, only muffled sounds from outside seemingly coming out of the dark. Usually, I appreciate both. Tonight, it would have been a little reassuring knowing someone else was in here.

    I could smell the chemicals, their scent leaking out the door. I¡¯d sealed everything inside but some smells simply permeated. I hadn¡¯t opened a window in a while to air it out, and the apartments weren¡¯t well equipped for cycling air in and out.

    I stifled a yawn as I put the key in the door¡¯s lock. I had a few tinctures to keep myself alert and awake. They were all smashed, courtesy of that tussle with the Pure-bloods.

    Just as well. Every hour staved off was paid with another hour slept when it wore off, and I couldn¡¯t afford an entire day. Hopefully, I would be able to spare some time in the future. Right now, sleeping a full twelve hours sounded beautiful.

    After opening up my door, the smell became much worse. Okay, something had broken. Likely, one of the other tenants had done an experiment that had rocked the building just enough to knock a jar off of its shelf. I took a few more tentative sniffs. Lionseed oil.

    Some good news in that. At least it was a cheaper ingredient and one whose fumes weren¡¯t dangerous. Just annoying in how it stank. And would stink for at least a week.

    Something had probably fallen over. I¡¯d been still readjusting my lab, bringing in the equipment and ingredients Lady Kersin had given me as part of her payment.

    Sighing, I reached for an oil lantern, only to find it missing. Strange. I¡¯d left one on the counter by the door. Instead, my hands closed around a set of scales I used to weigh ingredients.

    I turned towards the cupboards to put them back, wondering if I¡¯d just forgotten moving any of this.

    I knew I¡¯d closed this one before leaving. I hadn¡¯t moved anyth-

    I could hear someone behind me move, and I began to turn. Before I could two hands grasped me by the upper arm. I tensed, waiting for a blow, but nothing else came.

    Had they just grabbed me around my biceps like that was supposed to stop me?

    ¡°Alright, you¡¯re going to tell me where your cures for Angel¡¯s Sorrow are right now-¡±

    That¡¯s what this was about? Oh, Lord Montague was about to find my price much higher than agreed upon. Lifting my leg, I lashed backward with a hoof.

    My hoof smashed into the intruder¡¯s shin, and they let me go with a cry of pain. I whirled around to face them.

    ¡°This is my lab! You¡¯ll tell me what you were doing here right now!¡±

    The darkness obscured them, but I could see them hopping around in pain. Excellent, I could aim my next blow.

    I kicked again, hoof impacting right where their legs intercepted. To my dismay, they did not immediately crumple on the spot but instead rushed me.

    I moved out of the way, hoof lashing out again at their knee. I hadn¡¯t hit metal? Did they use Biosculpting to remove their genitals? Some did. Ah well, it didn¡¯t matter.

    Growling, the intruder turned once again, reaching for something in their coat. They still moved fluidly despite the blows to the leg. Reinforced bone? They looked relatively slim to have had their skeleton reinforced. It wouldn¡¯t matter. I was going to dismantle this one thoroughly.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to do this-¡± They started to say.

    My hoof hit their nose, and I felt something give way underneath it. They collapsed to the floor, grasping at their nose.

    I leaned down, staring at the intruder. I¡¯d bite this one¡¯s throat out as a warning to any others who would think to try and rob me-Shut up!

    The distraction from the diabolism cost me. The intruder sprang back to their feet and rammed their head forward directly into mine.

    My vision grew fuzzy as my hands reflexively released theirs. My thought became disorganized as I reeled back. I¡­reducing my horn size had really made my forehead weaker, hadn¡¯t it?

    The stranger was running for the door. Odds were they had a key.

    They fumbled with the door handle as soon as they reached it. I ran at them, reaching for an empty flask on the table.

    They rammed the door with their shoulder. I brought the flask down on their head. Glass shattered, and they groaned, trying to turn around.

    My fist rammed into the side of their throat. A second blow to their stomach, and they went down.

    Vision blurry and my head fuzzy, I grabbed the intruder¡¯s shirt shoulders. I dragged them along the floor, ignoring their groans of protest.

    Dragging them to my testing closet, I shoved them inside and quickly checked the interior. Nothing besides a small table was there, so I quickly pulled it out.

    They were twitching, almost regaining consciousness when I returned. They were human and probably male. Bit of a strange-looking one, hair growing haphazardly across their face, nose looking decidedly unsymmetrical. Oh, that might be from my kick. Who they were was a mystery for tomorrow. They¡¯d just started to move as I shut the door and locked it.

    The closet door shuddered as its new occupant tried to break it down.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t bother,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s a very thick door. If you couldn¡¯t knock me out, you¡¯re definitely not making it out of there. You¡¯re in my little testing place where I put chemicals to stew that might be a bit explosive.¡±

    The handle rattled in response, mixed with a desperate yell for help.

    ¡°Oh, calm down. I don¡¯t have anything in there at the moment. You should be quite safe for the night. I¡¯ll be back to see you in the morning.¡±

    The rattling only intensified, along with the screaming. I frowned. If they yelled loud enough, somebody outside may hear them.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t suggest keeping that up for very long either. It¡¯s already rather muffled; it¡¯ll be even lower outside the building itself, and frankly, no one who hears it will care. May as well save your voice.¡±

    That did not work either, as the yelling continued. Sighing, I looked around for something to put under the door to muffle the noise. Some rags I used for poultices would have to do.

    Before I stuffed them into the gap, I decided to try one last time to end this tonight. ¡°If you choose to answer some questions now, you can make it out of there even earlier. Otherwise, I¡¯m coming back tomorrow with some friends, and we¡¯ll get some answers then. Where did you get a key from? The fact you¡¯re alive tells me you have one.¡±

    There was still no response besides continued screaming. I shrugged. They could have it their way. They weren¡¯t going to die from half a day without water or food, and if they ended up relieving themselves, I¡¯d cleaned nastier from my lab.

    Honestly, having another thing added to my schedule for tomorrow was just an annoyance.

    I found a whale-oil lantern and lit it. Most of my cupboards were open, and somebody had scattered the store ingredients about. Most were unopened, with the exception of a few such as the Lionseed. The counters mainly had been cleared, although nearly everything had been put carefully on the ground. They must have planned to do this with as little indication of being here as possible.

    I worked on resealing the ingredients, and by the time I was done, the intruder was still yelling for help.

    Ignoring the screaming, I moved to one of the walls. The secret compartment hadn¡¯t been disturbed. Grabbing a chisel, I demolished the quick-drying cement I¡¯d used to conceal the compartment. The rock box was brick-shaped and looked like one when slotted into the wall.

    Putting it on the counter, I lit a candle. Eight bottles left. Two were reserved for Lord Montague¡¯s son, leaving another six for future clients. Assuming the poisonings kept happening.

    It was an ill thing to wish for, but I needed the money.

    I left, locking the door and leaving the intruder behind me. Head aching, I began the walk home and hopefully to a bed to sleep in.

 Chapter 10 - The Unforgivable Crime of Ruined Tea

    The following day began with tea.

    I stared at my small teapot, focusing on counting the seconds. It helped distract me from the pounding also on the inside of my head.

    I¡¯d come here after waiting outside my lab for half an hour. Making sure that the intruder didn¡¯t just have a key to all my locks, or the tools to pick it, or even just a weapon to work his way through eventually had taken out a chunk of my night.

    They deserved their freedom if they¡¯d been patient enough to either work at it for longer or wait that long before starting.

    That had been my sleepy reasoning as I¡¯d tiredly trodded my way home. Woken-up Falara was currently not very happy with sleepy Falara¡¯s decision-making.

    Oh, enough time had passed! I poured the teapot¡¯s water out, put the leaves in, and poured in more hot water.

    There were a few more minutes of waiting. I grabbed the milk while I waited, pouring some into my cup. I kept my movements slow and deliberate after my first attempt to get up had ended with my face smacking into the floor.

    My body and mind were tired, and I needed something, anything, to prepare me for today. A quick rinse and scrub before I¡¯d lain down to bed to erase the tannery stench had been my only path to sleep. I needed something else to serve for the morning. Tea would be my salvation. Oh, it should be done boiling.

    I poured it into the cup, as close to the rim as I risked it. I needed to be alert today. So much would have to be done because I couldn¡¯t afford to have anything occur during tomorrow afternoon.

    Sitting down on an uneven chair, I ignored its tottering as its shortened fourth leg made it shift underneath me. I focused instead on the cup.

    A darker tea, since I couldn¡¯t afford any better, but any tea would be a salve in a tired body and mind. Grabbing the cup in both hands, I brought it to my lips and took a sip.

    Bliss.

    Someone hammered on my door, the noise like a gunshot right next to my ear.

    I dropped the cup reflexively and then watched it shatter on my floor.

    ¡°Shit,¡± I muttered tiredly, then immediately rebuked myself.

    Katheryn Falara did not use vulgar terms like that. I¡¯d broken character twice now, both in and out of my head. One of these days, I¡¯d mess up with someone around, and they would know something was wrong.

    Even small cracks in the mask could become greater if I let it. Become Katheryn Falara. I''d put too much effort into wanting to be here to let those cracks form now.

    The pounding continued, and it felt like the knocking was hitting me right in the side of the head. Who had just broken my cup? It wasn¡¯t a particularly expensive cup but it was the principle of thing¡­the hammering on the door happened again, each blow mirroring the pounding in my head.

    ¡°Just a moment, please!¡± I said, trying to gather fragments of the cup off the floor. Be calm, be polite, be ruthless in negotiations but not in attitude. Be Katheryn Falara.

    I was thankful I¡¯d already dressed, a long ankle-length skirt and blouse covered in a coat. Even with my windows shut, the cold still seeped in.

    The hammering happened, matched by my flinching every time. I hurriedly put what fragments I¡¯d collected on my table.

    Approaching the door, I could hear arguing between two familiar voices.

    ¡°-listen to me you vagrant, I was here first, and besides my matter is more pressing-¡±

    ¡°-fuck off you brightly colored peacock, I got my own thing I need to talk to the miss about, and you ain¡¯t going to stop me-¡±

    My headache already intensified as I grabbed my door handle. I opened it, revealing two figures behind.

    The first was well-dressed by the standards of the quarter, green skin flushed red, monocle on the verge of falling off his face. He argued with the second, whose clothes could best be described as tatters stretched over indigo skin, a ratty beard descending from his chin.

    Kalaysp and Zarrow were two people I knew but hadn¡¯t expected and didn¡¯t particularly want to see.

    I knew Kalaysp professionally. We both plied the same trade, the shady alchemist with everything you could want in a bottle. Just ignore anything off about us and how we source our ingredients, and we won¡¯t ask anything about what you use our creations for. It was a rather profitable business in a city this large and lacking in the morals priests said we needed to keep to. Not that they were any better at it.

    They tended to pay some of the highest prices away from their pulpits.

    Kalaysp being here was abnormal. We rubbed elbows professionally, of course, but never privately. I¡¯d never guessed he knew where I lived.

    Zarrow was a vagrant from the streets, and I knew exactly why he was here.

    ¡°Mr. Kalaysp, Mr. Zarrow. I¡¯d say it¡¯s a good morning, but so far for me it has not. What has brought both of you to my doorstep at such an early hour?¡±

    It couldn¡¯t be more than five in the morning¡ªsix at the earliest. The rays of whichever sun had risen were barely visible.

    Kalaysp spoke first. ¡°Miss Falara, it¡¯s a pleasure to see you, but first might I ask if we can remove this vagrant as he has repeatedly offered me offense-¡±

    ¡°Take your fancy words and screw yourself with them, you little shit. I¡¯ve got just as much right to see her as you do, and I ain¡¯t no vagrant either.¡±

    Their voices echoed inside my head, their volume like screws to my ears. I winced and tried to cut off their arguing.

    ¡°Gentlemen, please don¡¯t yell. My ears can only take so much.¡±

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t yelling. Was I yelling, vagrant?¡± Kalaysp asked.

    ¡°Fuck off. Also, no he was not.¡±

    Oh gods I¡¯d probably picked up some disease off the Pure-bloods, or that jail cell, or whoever that intruder stuck in the closet was. No matter.

    ¡°Gentlemen, I¡¯m dealing with a few things, and I had a rather busy day yesterday, but I will take some time out of it to deal with whatever has brought you here. As long as you speak softly. Now, who was here first, and what do both of you want?¡±

    ¡°A business proposition. It should take only a few minutes of your time,¡± Kalaysp said.

    Zarrow coughed, a wet hacking one that made Kalaysp put some room between them.

    ¡°I need some medicine again, miss. And I¡¯m not waiting for this fancy-horn blowhard to talk with you while I¡¯m here wasting away.¡±

    ¡°You mean you want drugs to sell to someone for three times their normal cost,¡± Kalaysp sneered.

    Unfortunate as it may be, that was decently close to the truth. ¡°Your last dose was not that long ago, Mr. Zarrow, but if you¡¯ll wait just a moment?¡±

    His expression screamed an argument coming, so I kept talking.

    ¡°It takes time to prepare. You¡¯d have to wait, so please hold on for a few minutes. Mr. Kalaysp, please come inside?¡±

    My apartment was a tight little affair: two rooms, a bathroom, and a closet. This first room was my kitchen, table, reading nook, and everything the bedroom could not serve. There was enough room for two people to sit down comfortably, which was the way I preferred it.

    If things ever got too dangerous, I would just kick down the table, blocking off access to half the room for long enough for me to escape out the window without needing to jump through it. Cheap glass was not the safest surface to leap through.

    The furniture might be second-hand and falling apart, the chimney might get clogged at times, and the walls might be made of chipped wood and be a bit too thin for winter, but it was enough for me. I did not want to receive guests, so I usually did my dealings at Hells'' Own.

    ¡°Well, this is my home. A little modest but comfortable enough.¡±

    Kalasyp didn¡¯t reply. He had instead spotted my teapot, I realized to mounting horror.

    ¡°Oh, you brewed some tea?¡±

    ¡°I¡­yes.¡± Please don¡¯t ask for a cup

    ¡°Do you mind if I have a cup? I had a long day yesterday.¡±

    He¡¯d had a long day? Had he been in the Coffin for hours on end? Had he fought a pack of human racist gang members? Been interrogated by the never to be sufficiently damned Voltar? Fought an intruder in his own lab? Been extorted by that leech Carnly? Has his morning tea been interrupted and his cup shattered by someone pounding incessantly on his door?

    Kalasyp seemed focused on a particular part of my face. Was my eye twitching? My eye was probably twitching.

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    ¡°Of course, you can have a cup. Give me one second, and let me get some new cups and clean up my other one. Please sit down.¡±

    ¡°Should we see if that vagrant outside wants some?¡±

    You know, indulging in my diabolism-induced urges to consume sentient flesh was beginning to sound somewhat rational at this moment.

    ¡°Please don¡¯t insult Mr. Zarrow. He¡¯s not a vagrant.¡± He probably has some building he¡¯s currently squatting in. ¡°Mr. Zarrow, do you want a cup of tea?¡±

    From my still-open door, Zarrow poked his head in. ¡°Tea? Can¡¯t stand the stuff. Got some coffee?¡±

    I beamed at the joy of keeping at least one cup of the precious drink. ¡°None brewed at this time. I can have some ready by the time I¡¯m done with Mr. Kalaysp?¡±

    ¡°That sounds alright. I can wait.¡± Zarrow said.

    ¡°You could try some. It¡¯s a rather excellent drink with the right brand. I assume Falara is using a good brand. You are, aren¡¯t you?¡± Kalaysp said.

    ¡°We should respect Mr. Zarrow¡¯s wishes,¡± I said, maintaining a polite tone. ¡°You wanted to discuss something, Mr. Kalasyp?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no reason he can¡¯t try both drinks.¡±

    There is a reason, my teapot only has three servings, and you two already ruined one!

    ¡°Not interested,¡± Zarrow said. ¡°Tried the stuff a few times. Disagrees with me. Coffee¡¯s got more kick to it anyway.¡±

    Huzzah! I poured both cups, then restarted the process they so rudely interrupted.

    ¡°Hrrm. Black tea. Flavors are a bit strong. Admiral Givens I think? Not the worst, I suppose,¡± Kalaysp said.

    I ignored him, focused on my cup as the pounding in my head lessened to a low, distant ache.

    Perhaps an exaggeration, but by the time I finished my cup, the world was infinitely more bearable than it had been a few moments ago.

    ¡°Is the business proposition you wanted to discuss something you want to be kept private?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Yes, but don¡¯t bother with the door. I imagine he¡¯ll just listen in through it.¡±

    Zarrow gave Kalasyp a pointed look, then reached in and pulled my door closed.

    These two must have had their paths crossed at some point before. Kalasyp knew Zarrow too well. Either that or Kalasyp held prejudices against the lower class I had never encountered before.

    That was probably not the case. He would despise ninety percent of the district if he hated the poor.

    I grabbed a three-tiered drip pot from my cupboard. Battered, it still functioned well enough. I put in a few cups of beans, poured water in the bottom, and hung it above the fire.

    Kalasyp seemed reluctant to speak, the words seemingly stuck in his throat till he forced them out. ¡°I have a client, several actually, whom I want you to care for for a few days. You¡¯ll be paid fairly for the work.¡±

    I frowned. This was new. ¡°Perhaps employ Meloment to do it? I¡¯m rather busy with clients at this time.¡±

    Kalsyp shook his head. ¡°Meloment is also busy. Terminally so. He apparently tried to cheat some people in the docks who didn¡¯t appreciate it. Drasseck is underground, Litchen is out of town. Everyone else is also busy.¡±

    I winced. That was unfortunate. I¡¯d have to send my condolences to the widow. ¡°Gallows, perhaps? He¡¯s never busy.¡±

    His face scrunched up like I¡¯d suggested chopping his limb off. ¡°He¡¯s never busy because his quality is terrible, and his mixtures are trash. I try to get Gallows to cover these clients, they¡¯ll leave. These are good clients, Falara. They actually pay in money and not favors.¡±

    ¡°If they¡¯re good clients, you¡¯d do more to keep them. Instead, you¡¯re trying to pass them off on to me while pursuing where you think the real money is.¡±

    He was pursuing the same strategy as me, except in a worse fashion. I¡¯d be slowly trading off existing clients for new ones and making sure all my dues were paid and no ill feeling left behind. He meanwhile was trying to switch the entire lot.

    All in all, it sounded like a quick scheme to get money with a lot of risk. Kalasyp and Zarrow had more in common than either would appreciate me saying.

    Kalasyp frowned. ¡°I could let you in on this opportunity if it helps?¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t. But I¡¯ll help you out anyway. In return for the pay and the story of what you¡¯re doing once you¡¯ve finished. And within reason. What are the names and the orders?¡±

    He had a list ready, handing it over before I¡¯d finished asking. ¡°I can¡¯t say anything about the offer. I was told that if I did, I would lose the opportunity, along with the usual threats to my well-being that are part and parcel of these deals. I¡¯m allowed to bring new people in for them to consider, but that is all.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± I said.

    I was more focused on the list. Half of these names were outside the district, probably people who wanted alchemy in secret, much like Lord Montague. I recognized two of these names, though. I put the list down and flipped over the drip pot.

    ¡°You have two associates of Versalicci on this list?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Is that a problem?¡±

    It wouldn¡¯t usually be one for Katheryn Falara. It would always be one with Malvia Davies. But I¡¯d have an excuse for why Katheryn Falara would want to avoid them.

    ¡°I have a particular reason for wanting to avoid these people in public. It is workable but requires a bit of extra effort on my part.¡±

    ¡°Are you entangled with the Black Flame gangs? I wouldn¡¯t have guessed such a thing.¡±

    Oh, I was entangled. More than even some of Versalicci¡¯s closest lieutenants may have guessed.

    ¡°I was involved in an incident yesterday involving a member of the gang, some human gang members, the Watch, and others. The member of the gang died, although not by me, and I tried to keep him alive, but there might be misunderstandings.¡±

    ¡°It would only be the one time. I¡¯ll pay extra for both of them,¡± Kalaysp said.

    ¡°How much would the pay be?¡± I asked. His main benefit would be keeping steady customers, so he could afford to be generous.

    ¡°Half of what they pay me, three-quarters for the Black Flame clients.¡±

    ¡°Make it the full payment for the Black Flame clients and you have a deal. I am putting myself at greater risk there, and you don¡¯t want to miss a delivery to Black Flame.¡±

    He looked like he¡¯d eaten a prune, but he nodded. ¡°A deal then. I¡¯ll handle the payments when I return.¡±

    That sounded like a good reason to ask each client how much they usually paid for his services when I met them. Having him be the source for how much seemed the perfect way to be cheated.

    ¡°I do need these all completed by tomorrow.¡±

    Ah, a new issue. ¡°I couldn¡¯t get to all of these till the day after,¡± I said.

    He frowned. ¡°These clients expect punctuality. All of them. Tomorrow is necessary.¡±

    ¡°How about any I don¡¯t get to till the day after tomorrow you only pay me half on then? So, a quarter per client?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Not what I would prefer, but fine.¡±

    We said our goodbyes, and he gave me a spare key to his lab. Soon, Kalaysp departed from my apartment.

    With Kalaysp handled, now I could deal with the second problem that had landed on my doorstep.

    Zarrow had already come inside, taking Kalasyp¡¯s leaving as an implicit invitation to come in.

    ¡°Lungs acting up again, Mr. Zarrow?¡±

    He coughed, wet and phlegmy, the single sputter quickly turning into a fit as I kept a wary distance. The disease he had wasn¡¯t infectious, but he could have picked something new off the streets.

    ¡°Ain¡¯t it always them, Miss Falara?¡±

    ¡°And as always, you don¡¯t have the money to pay me right now?¡±

    He had the decency to look ashamed for once. ¡°I¡¯ll have it soon. I have something new lined up that will move some real cash. Just need some time to put it all together.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose I get any details before giving you another elixir for free?¡±

    ¡°Sorry, miss. You know how it is. If you tell anyone the details of anything, you¡¯re begging for a one-way trip to the hells.¡±

    Figured. I went for the closet I kept for remedies and potions here at home while Zarrow enjoyed a cup of coffee.

    I opened the door to rack upon rack of not just my small home stockpile of foodstuffs but a small variety of preserved goods. I had enough to last a week, no more, maybe a little less depending on when I last had picked up food.

    Zarrow was another part of my past, although he was unaware of that. I preferred to keep it that way, too. When I¡¯d first run into him, I¡¯d been shocked to see him alive. He should be dead, if not from his lung¡¯s disease then from someone finally getting tired of his blatant cons and knifing him.

    Instead, he stayed alive and continued to be in defiance of all the world thrown at him. The ultimate survivor. I¡¯d let myself fall for some of his cons during my first year as Falara. It added to her realness. The District was packed with hundreds of Zarrows, and falling for at least one of their wiles was a rite of passage.

    Even after I allowed myself as Falara to wise up, he¡¯d attached himself to me ever since. He wasn¡¯t a particularly egregious one in terms of limpets, so I just went along with it.

    He spoke up while I went through the closet shelves, finding the one with disease remedies.

    ¡°If you¡¯re having problems with Versalicci, maybe I could put a good word in with him. Him and I, we go way back. He holds me in high regard.¡±

    ¡°And how do you know I am having problems with Versalicci?¡±

    ¡°I was listening in. Peacock bugger was right. Don¡¯t tell him that, though.¡±

    ¡°Perish the thought, Mr. Zarrow. But do tell me how you have the ear of the crime boss of the Black Flame?¡±

    ¡°I used to run with them, the Black Flame,¡± Zarrow said. ¡°Member of the gang, tattoo, the whole package.¡±

    ¡°I rather doubt that. I¡¯ve heard you don¡¯t have an option to retire from that gang.¡± I know for a fact you were never a member. ¡°If you were part of it, where is the tattoo?¡±

    ¡°It faded away after all the years I¡¯ve piled on. All this wear and tear, it gets to you, makes you look battered, takes away all your features.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen the tattoo Zarrow. It¡¯s carved in, and either was enchanted or someone worked some form of permanent dye into it.¡± Actually, it was Devil¡¯s blood, but Falara wouldn¡¯t know or suspect that.

    ¡°Alright, maybe I exaggerate my standing a little. But I did help teach members of their gang. Before they became members, back when they ruled the street, used to have my own little gang I was the head of.¡±

    I smiled. ¡°You as the head of anything I have great trouble picturing.¡±

    He grinned back at me. ¡°Hey. That was uncalled for. I did for a while. We were a merry little band, living charmed lifestyles.¡±

    We scrabbled, ate boots, and scammed folks in the District for what little coin anyone here had back then. In a way, I suppose you could call that charming. ¡°I don¡¯t think having taught some of his foot soldiers will endear you too much to him.¡±

    ¡°I did more than that; I trained some of his best people! Malvia Harrow, Sardasat Stoker, Gavlor Vertain, Mitlau Stricker, all learned the art of crime under my tutelage!¡±

    Half of those names were lies. Gavlor had never worked under him, and Mitlau was an immigrant from an entirely different country. Also, everyone was dead except me.

    ¡°Dead names, Zarrow. I used Malvia Harrow myself yesterday off the list at Carnly¡¯s.¡±

    He frowned. ¡°Didn¡¯t know you knew old man Carnly.¡±

    ¡°Tolman told me about the place. I needed their services. An unfortunate necessity of yesterday¡¯s events.¡±

    ¡°Watch on your tail?¡±

    ¡°Oh, them definitely. Maybe others. But that is my problem, Mr. Zarrow, not yours. How about instead of trying to convince Versalicci I¡¯m on his side, you instead do some work for me when you¡¯re free? With my usual rates applying.¡±

    That meant fifty percent to paying off his tab, and fifty percent to stay in his pocket.

    Zarrow looked like I¡¯d just put a vial full of piss in his hands. ¡°I¡¯ll consider it.¡±

    He despised making an honest living in any shape or form. Desperation would lead to his asking me later this week, but only after his latest con came crashing around his horns.

    ¡°Well, don¡¯t consider it too long. This work might not be offered later, depending on how things are going.¡±

    Where had I put that syringe? It cost me quite a pretty penny to purchase, so I had better not have lost it or left it in the lab. Ah, there.

    As soon as he saw it, Zarrow went pale as a sheet. It was an impressive feat with skin that was a deep purple.

    ¡°What is that? It¡¯s usually a vial.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll get the vial as well. This is an¡­for lack of a better term, it¡¯s an experiment.¡±

    ¡°I ain¡¯t going to grow a second head or something like that, am I? I ain¡¯t going to have to murder a copy of myself or become some kind of fleshbeast trying to consume people or something like that? Because I¡¯d been reading those thriller novels, and they¡¯ve been real instructive.¡±

    I¡¯d ask where he¡¯d gotten his hands on those, but it would be wasted effort. Trashy novels on the dangers of arcane advancement were everywhere these days. ¡°Of course not, Mr. Zarrow. Firstly, most of what you¡¯ve described is biosculpting, not alchemy. Secondly, I would never inflict that on you. Besides, I don¡¯t think the world would be ready for two of you. This will go into your upper arm. Let me just get some alcohol so we can sterilize it, and then I¡¯ll just poke you with a needle.

    Zarrow grew even paler. That honestly was rather impressive. Maybe I could pay him for a skin sample and see if there was something different about his pigmentation from other Infernals.

    ¡°It¡¯s just a tiny little needle, Zarrow. It won¡¯t hurt a bit.¡±

    His mouth opened and closed several times until finally, a noise resembling a high-pitched warble came out, driving a spike of pain through my ear.

    ¡°I believe he¡¯s reacting to me, Ms. Falara,¡± a familiar voice said behind me.

    Internally sighing, I turned around to face its owner.

    ¡°Mr. Voltar, what a pleasure to see you this morning. Would you please step inside?¡±

 Chapter 11 - Never Consume Unfamiliar Substances

    ¡°Shit,¡± was Zarrow¡¯s only remark. His eyes flitted towards the doorway, trying to find a way out without touching Voltar.

    The detective watched in mild amusement as my patient tried to move as far away as the chair would allow. I had no idea where these two had crossed paths, but Zarrow clearly better appreciated the danger Voltar presented than most did. The detective¡¯s thin frame resembled a scarecrow, only padded out by the thickness of his greatcoat, and his face wasn¡¯t particularly intimidating. His eyes, though¡­

    You learned quickly on the streets from people¡¯s eyes. Some were steel all the time, constantly projecting it outward. But there were those who, even if you saw not a single glare from them, not a harsh word or threatening notion, you  still knew what lurked underneath.

    ¡°Hold still, and relax,¡± I told Zarrow, and I stuck the syringe into his elbow. I lodged it right into the vein and held it steady. It was an extract from a fire lizard in the underground, not that I¡¯d ever let Zarrow know. It could clear out the lungs if it had time to work and you kept up the doses.

    Not relaxed, Zarrow sputtered while Voltar politely cleared his throat.

    ¡°I hear you, Mr. Voltar. I¡¯m handling a patient right now.¡±

    Petty on my part, but he¡¯d barged into my home, currently standing in my doorway. Yes, the door was open, but that was hardly an invitation to enter.

    ¡°I can come back later if that is a better time?¡± Voltar asked.

    ¡°No, this will only take a few moments,¡± I said, wrangling Zarrow. I kept the needle''s feed slow. ¡°Can you please wait outside or somewhere beside my doorway?¡±

    Voltar took a few steps back, clearing my doorway. I turned my attention back to Zarrow.

    ¡°Please hold still. Also, I have a message for you to take to Mr. Tolman. I¡¯ll be around his house in say, a half hour? I¡¯d appreciate it if he could be ready for a job by then. Double rates. It¡¯s understandable if he can¡¯t make it. Did you get all that?¡±

    Zarrow gave me a nervous nod in reply.

    I reached for a bandage on my table, managed to grab it, and put it over where the needle pierced the skin. I took it out, keeping pressure on the bandage as I tied it up.

    ¡°It should take a few minutes to heal. In about half an hour take it out. Could you repeat back the message for Mr. Tolman?¡±

    He repeated it back to me, adding his own rambling vernacular as I finished the bandage. Then, I went to get a bottle of the elixir from my closet. It was close enough to the original message, so I handed him the bottle.

    ¡°Swallow it all at once, Mr. Zarrow,¡± I told him. He didn¡¯t pay attention, eyes still locked on Voltar.

    ¡°Don¡¯t eat anything for at least an hour from now. If you must, make it something dry. Crackers would suffice. Mr. Zarrow?¡±

    He gave me a shaky nod, heading for the door. As soon as he was past Voltar he started running, boots rocking the cheap wooden floorboards.

    ¡°And remember to deliver that message to Mr. Tolman!¡±

    Voltar stepped in, closing the door behind him. Immediately, the room felt much smaller than it had with Kalasyp or Zarrow. I wiped my hands on a bit of cloth and walked over to where the fire was.

    ¡°I can not even begin to guess where you crossed paths with him, Mr. Voltar, but you¡¯ve put the fear of both deity and devil in his heart. Coffee or tea?¡±

    ¡°Coffee, if it would be possible?¡±

    Zarrow had only had one cup. My battered drip pot had enough for one more.

    ¡°It is possible. I must say I¡¯m surprised to see you here, Mr. Voltar. I¡¯m not about to be led outside and find a squad of watchmen waiting to lead me to the Coffin in chains, am I? My heart might not be able to survive the scandal.¡±

    The polite smile didn¡¯t change. ¡°No, nothing like that. I wanted your opinion on a substance as a professional.¡±

    ¡°There are plenty of alchemists you must be able to consult, some of whom I imagine are much closer to your dwelling than I am,¡± I said.

    ¡°Yes, but there is another reason for me to come here. I have some follow-up questions from the interview yesterday. I figured I might as well get two pieces of business solved at the same time.¡±

    Sure. The only reasons. I was well aware of the absence of Dawes. Or maybe he had one of those lowlife kids he worked with trying to break into my bedroom while we talked. There was another game afoot.

    ¡°It saves me a trip to the Coffin,¡± I said. ¡°I can hardly complain. Pass me the sample?¡±

    He produced a small vial from his coat, which I took. A clear liquid lay inside, half-filling the vial. At first glance, it seemed to be water, but something seemed off.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take it to my lab later, although I can try a few things before you leave. The questions?¡±

    ¡°The infernal you were with had a box with him. I¡¯d like to know what became of it.¡±

    I shrugged and uncapped the vial. I took a few hesitant sniffs. Nothing recognizable. A slight whiff of pine, maybe? He hadn¡¯t slipped me a vial of water just as an excuse to talk, had he? I started dividing the sample between the original vial and some of my own.

    ¡°Yes, he did have a box with him. I remember him dropping it when we reached the cathedral. He got rather cross with some urchins when they tried to nab it, and then the humans arrived, and I lost track of where it was. Why, was there something illegal inside?¡±

    Voltar stood, watching as I divided the sample between six vials. ¡°A good question. We don¡¯t know because no one has found it yet. Why did you not mention the box to the Watch?¡±

    I shrugged as I took one of the vials and put a stopper in it. Using a pair of tongs, I held it above my fire. ¡°I thought they had picked it up themselves. I didn¡¯t know much about it, my questions to the gang member, uhm, Golmar?¡±

    ¡°Golvar.¡±

    The liquid in the vial had begun to boil, but there was no other reaction from the liquid. ¡°Well, Golvar made it very clear that he would not tell me anything of what was in the box. And since he seemed violently predisposed to me prying further, I left it at that.¡±

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t bother to look for it last night at the ruins of Halspus Cathedral?¡±

    Was he fishing for something off in my response? A stupid question. That question was too specific to ask if he didn¡¯t know the answer already.

    ¡°I did visit there last night, and I won¡¯t deny it. How did you know, though?¡±

    ¡°You smell faintly of a tannery. The night wind only went to the south, so you must have gone south of the only nearby tannery, Jasper Leatherworks. But your apartment, your lab, and Carnly¡¯s all are north of that establishment.¡±

    I did my best not to drop my cup. I let wide-eyed amazement take over my face as if in awe of Voltar¡¯s discovery. Inwardly? I wanted to kick him. Hard. He knew where my lab was? I thought I¡¯d have a day or more before he or the Watch went there, but now I might be down to hours. This was becoming increasingly bad.

    ¡°You have a perfect sense of smell, Mr. Voltar.¡±

    ¡°Yes, although in addition, I have an eyewitness to you revisiting the crime scene and doing some peculiar things. Sticking your arm up to its elbow in the rubble of Halspus Cathedral. A bit odd for you to be doing, one would think?¡±

    Of course, I¡¯d been found out anyway. The question would be whether a tracker had been planted on my possessions I couldn¡¯t part with or had someone legitimately tailed me.

    ¡°I can certainly see why you would think that odd. Truth be told, I lost a brooch of sentimental value and was just trying to find it. I figured if I brought it to the Watch¡¯s attention, it would simply be pawned off by whichever officer did find it.¡±

    ¡°You mentioned having Sculpts done on you. I hadn¡¯t asked at the time, but who exactly did your Sculpts?¡±

    He hadn¡¯t bought the lie about the brooch. I could tell even if his expression didn¡¯t change in the slightest between sips of coffee. He¡¯d just moved past it to this new line of attack instead.

    ¡°Verinith Scaligi, a year and a half ago. I think he¡¯s died since then, back in the Blaze. At the minimum, I haven¡¯t heard or seen him since then.¡±

    The Blaze was the latest in a series of grand conflagrations that threatened to eat the entire district. Fires were a regular occurrence in the still mostly wooden construction of the Infernal District, helped by the war with the dwarves, which had left brick and tile in short supply for the longest time. Great blazes that ate entire blocks were rare, they¡¯d threatened the district three times in my life.

    At least these days brick and tile buildings were slowly entering the Infernal District.

    ¡°A costly series of changes to have made to yourself, permanent cosmetic alterations. And a smuggling pouch as well. I do wonder how you afforded it?¡±

    Mostly through a lot of self-financing, some stolen funds from Versalicci¡¯s coffers, and the fact that I made the modifications myself. Scaligi had never worked on me, not that I would have trusted him to. The only reason I shared his name was he was both dead, and with his body missing, no necromancer would get answers out of his spirit.

    ¡°I got very lucky with a client early on, and for why I spent so much on them,¡± I hesitated, and gave Voltar a downcast grin that didn¡¯t reach my eyes. ¡°Mr. Voltar, I don¡¯t think I need to speak on the prejudices so many in this city have. So I did my best to accommodate them and reduced my demonic features to cater to them.¡±

    If those words had any effect on him, they did not show. He finished his coffee, put the drained cup back on the table, and said nothing else.

    This was not going to take the heat off of me. If anything, it only indicated that the detective had taken an interest, which was worse. Should I take a risk, or just suffer his interest in silence till hopefully this died down?

    Maybe a small offering of the truth would help a little.

    "I was lying about the brooch" I offered. "I was looking for the box, although I didn''t find it. You probably know that already from your eyewitness."

    "It was reported that you left empty-handed. Not the most important part, which is that you searched for it in the first place. And if you know what''s inside."

    "I do not," I replied quickly. "I''d never seen it before that day, nor did I find out was inside it, nor do I care to find out what was inside it. I only hid it and tried to retrieve it because I have to live here Mr. Voltar. There''s a few rules to live by to live here, and one is do not cross the Black Flame."

    "Not wanting to cross them is not the only reason to try and retrieve their property," he remarked.

    "I am not a member. If you must be convinced, I will go to the Coffin again, and female members of the Watch can try searching me for the tattoo. I can already assure you they won''t find it. Besides, if I was a member or even an associate, I''d just send word to the Black Flame, and someone not under suspicion by the Watch would have gone there to look for it. Assuming they didn''t already find it."

    There was no reply from Voltar.

    I did my best not to look at Voltar, afraid of giving away my thoughts through my expression. Instead, I focused on the mystery substance, the identity of which I had a good guess. The details fit, for what better poison was there than one that had no odor, no color, no reactions with many common substances, and seemingly no distinguishing features?

    Lucky for me, I hadn¡¯t tried taste-testing it.

    I pricked my earlobe with a needle, collecting the blood as it fell out. Once I had enough for a drop, I let it slide into one of my vials.

    The mixture turned to gold, bursting into light as it mixed with my blood, instantly turning it into vapor. The glass at the bottom began to melt, but the violent reaction stopped as soon as my blood finished evaporating.

    I gingerly put the vial down and started collecting the other ones I¡¯d been using. If the sudden reaction had startled Voltar, he showed no signs of it.

    ¡°Angel¡¯s Sorrow,¡± I concluded. ¡°An uncommon poison. You ran across this recently?¡±

    Which one of my clients had hired Voltar? Or was there a third case?

    He inclined his head. ¡°Very recently. My current case, in fact. Not everyone would think of mixing their blood with it, Miss Falara. You¡¯ve handled it before?¡±

    Claim I regularly mixed my blood in as a test or the truth?

    ¡°I¡¯ve handled cases of it before. Two, in fact, recent ones. Possibly the same ones you might be investigating yourself, although I doubt we are free to say who our clients are.¡±

    ¡°My client made no statements on such things.¡±

    ¡°That does not mean it wasn¡¯t implied. Are you going to state who it was?¡±

    ¡°Lady Kersin. She did mention hiring an alchemist to help obtain a cure. You, I presume?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not at liberty to say,¡± I said.

    Let him dig that answer out with his own two hands. He seemed entirely too calm dropping that name, but he traveled in circles much higher than my own. To him Lady Kersin would be minor nobility, whereas traveling down to where I was, nobility was nobility. There are fewer resources at their disposal, yes, but they are still in the stratosphere.

    He didn¡¯t seem inclined to pry further into that.

    ¡°If you were to prepare it, would there be any difference to your methods?¡°

    I gave him a coy grin. ¡°Mr. Voltar! I hope you are not implying what I think you are?¡±

    There was still no change to the somewhat amused look on his face. I¡¯d seen it before, in predators playing with their food. ¡°And what would that be, Ms. Falara?¡±

    I gave him the most scandalized look I could muster. No nerve manipulation this time; simply acting.

    ¡°I think you are trying to ferret out if I¡¯m the one who poisoned those two souls,¡± I said

    ¡°And what would you say if I did accuse you of the crime?¡±

    I tapped his cup, and he nodded. I picked it up, taking it over to the sink. I didn¡¯t wash them, not yet. I needed this saliva. It¡¯d be a nasty business I had planned with it, but it was necessary.

    ¡°The first is that I lack the resources for it. To begin with, I¡¯d need to employ someone to travel in those circles to poison them. Secondly, I¡¯d have to know there aren¡¯t any other alchemists better placed in the social circles they could trust. The money to fund it and pull it off, the fact I¡¯d need to obtain very rare ingredients for both, would make it a very expensive scam. There are other reasons, but I think the third and most important is you¡¯ll find no evidence of me preparing them, as I have not made a single dose.¡±

    ¡°It seems rather well-reasoned. Did you prepare that little speech in advance after our meeting yesterday, Ms. Falara?¡±

    That was an interesting little nugget. Why would I prepare a speech about not being responsible for poisonings and have no clue he was investigating?

    I grinned. ¡°Oh no. I¡¯ve just read so many of Mr. Dawes'' accounts of your adventures, you might say I have something of an insight into how your mind operates. Where is the good Mr. Dawes, anyway?¡±

    ¡°Handling another matter related to this case. One I must attend to soon myself. Thank you for confirming the sample¡¯s identity, Ms. Falara.¡±

    Mr. Voltar grabbed his coat and hat, preparing to leave. I already moved to the door, opening it with a genuine smile. The sooner he was out my door, the better.

    ¡°Thank you for your time, Ms. Falara. It¡¯s been a very illuminating visit. Before I go, my original question, Ms. Falara? On the preparation?¡±

    ¡°Hrrm. Oh. There couldn¡¯t be a difference. The process of extracting the poison doesn¡¯t really produce a variation, no matter how you do it. The key one was thought to change depending on the method, but I honestly think that¡¯s just silly superstition.¡±

    ¡°And that key ingredient is?¡±

    He knew the answer, I was confident. But there was no reason not to humor him.

    ¡°The tears of a divine creature, of course.¡±

 Chapter 12 - The Art of Street-fighting Urchins

    Silence reigned as those words left my lips. I looked at Voltar, but his expression still refused to shift.

    The poison was called Angel¡¯s Sorrow for a reason. It didn¡¯t need to be an angel, but it required a divine creature to shed its tears. The concentrated sorrow of such an entity was powerful enough to hurt the living through exposure, to touch the mind much in the same way a visitation from a divine creature would.

    For people or creatures originating from the profane like myself? A mere touch could be instantly fatal.

    ¡°I suppose that is another reason why I would not be the one brewing this poison,¡± I said, giving the assorted vials back to him. ¡°One small slip-up and, in the best case, I¡¯m an invalid for oh, years, I would say. Assuming it doesn¡¯t kill me or permanently damage my brain.¡±

    ¡°A risk,¡± Voltar said. ¡°But in the interest of clearing your good name, you wouldn¡¯t mind me looking at your lab, would you?¡±

    Oh, I very much minded in the imminent couple of hours. But I could hardly explain that a stranger was locked up in the cupboard. I didn¡¯t need more complications in my life.

    ¡°You are welcome to visit. I do have the only key outside of my landlord, so you¡¯ll need to talk to him or me before you visit. Do you wish to go immediately?¡±

    He shook his head slightly, a slightly amused expression still there. Whatever his plan, my having time to go through my lab wouldn¡¯t interfere with it.

    ¡°Please let me know before you go in there, Mr. Voltar. I don¡¯t deal with the most volatile or dangerous substances, but I would not recommend exploring any unfamiliar alchemist¡¯s lab without one with you. Are there any more questions?¡±

    He put his hat back on, already heading out the door.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think so. Have a pleasant day, Ms. Falara.¡±

    ¡°And a pleasant day to you as well, Mr. Voltar,¡± I said with false cheer.

    I shut the door carefully, doing my best not to slam it. I fished my key out of my pocket and locked it up again.

    I hurried over to my sink, grabbed Voltar¡¯s cup, and removed it. Inside it, the detective¡¯s leftover coffee still sat. Alright, this would be simple enough. I¡¯d have to go somewhere else to perform the diabolism, so its stain didn¡¯t point to anyone here, but I had the ingredients here. My blood and his saliva- I just needed my focus to help bridge the gap between materials and power, and a tracking spell would be easy enough to work.

    I drew the blinds shut, then grabbing a candle from my cupboard, I lit it. Vertrul, they called the invisible creatures whose fat I''d made the candle out of. Its methods of not being detected went beyond disappearing from sight, so as long as the candle was lit, attempts to scry my apartment would be obscured, if not outright blocked.

    Grabbing a chisel, I worked on the floor, tapping gently at the gaps between the floorboards. I cleared out the putty and other material I¡¯d used to fill the gaps between them. After a while, it was all cleared out, giving me space to use my fingers.

    I lifted up one of the floorboards, looking at the trio of small wooden boxes hidden under them. These three boxes contained all the other remnants of my life as Malvia. Mementos, Biosculpting tools, and Diabolism.

    The one I wanted was separate from the other two, with symbols carved into it that pained my eyes to look at. The wood singed my fingers as I lifted the box out and opened it. Ignoring the pain, I opened it up, grabbing a small metal star, eight-sided and with an inverted crown in the center. Black-painted flames backed it, glistening in the morning light.

    I should have burned this, removing the temptation entirely. Diabolism was still possible without it, even if it was harder to perform. But why not use it? Desperate times and all that.

    I sat in one of my chairs, thumb going over the inverted crown. Using it would mean calling on Him, and that was never pleasant. Versalicci would know as well the moment I called on the focus. That didn¡¯t matter too much. Golvar already confirmed he knew who Katheryn Falara really was.

    The chair cracked underneath me. I looked down, seeing a spiderweb of cracks cutting their way through the already cheap wood. I got up, glaring at the focus. Probably not best to have this out till I had the ritual ready. I should have better control over it. Then again considering my teacher I was lucky to still be living.

    Eager to be used again, are we? I thought, putting it back in its box. I quickly latched it shut, then considered the tips of my fingers. The burns were already fading. The seals on the box weren¡¯t holding up that well after a year of neglect.

    It meant I could carry it in cloth to whatever secluded, abandoned building I secured for the ritual. It wouldn¡¯t be hard magic, just a little mixture to keep Voltar tracked. I couldn¡¯t track Dawes, but it would let me know what Voltar was doing.

    Still, something felt off. I went to pick up the cup.

    I looked at the coffee cup, a thumb going over the rim. Cracks in the surface formed irregularities as my thumb slowly went around it. In the center, the dregs of the coffee seemed to swirl. White specks mixed in with it, almost looking like the night sky.

    I filled the cup with water and rinsed it out, watching it all vanish. The pipes here were crap, but they did the job. I then reached for the soap and started scrubbing the cup as if it was covered in a layer of shit.

    How dumb did he think I was? The greatest detective in the world happens to leave his cup unwashed in an alchemist¡¯s home? Even if I wasn¡¯t a diabolist, using what he¡¯d left in the cup for a mixture targeting him specifically would be simple enough.

    I couldn¡¯t figure out how, but it was a trick, a trap. I rinsed it twice more until the inside of the cup was bare.

    Okay, this might be a touch too paranoid, but I would take any excuse not to attempt some diabolism. Besides, paranoia was needed now more than ever. Why did elements of my past choose now to trample all over the neat little life I¡¯d arranged for myself?

    I stared at the disappearing water. This had been a mistake. I wasn¡¯t risking much; just a taste and a little nibble of diabolism would set everything right. He couldn¡¯t have gone far. Use the remnants of human flesh still in my system, conjure forth an imp, and set it watch-

    I rammed my head against the wall.

    This time, the wooziness took over a minute to fade. I sat in a chair, head in hand, both eyes scrunched shut as I recited the list of elements from beginning to end.

    Zindlium, Zinc, Zirconium, Zorinthium. I needed to stop letting my head get hammered like this. Too many more instances and I would concuss myself.

    In my stomach, something knotted, twisting in my gut around and around. Thankfully, I hadn¡¯t even considered breakfast yet. Something leaped, forcing me to gag. I tried to stop, stumbling as I got up from the chair.

    It had been years since I¡¯d used it. Why was it so damn powerful? It didn¡¯t even seem to be coming back; I hadn¡¯t spotted a single spirit since that one bite and shouldn¡¯t as long as I didn¡¯t draw on the power.

    I retched into my sink, whatever was in my stomach coming up. Panting, I forced myself away from it. Was that blood in the sink? No, don¡¯t focus on it. It wouldn¡¯t, couldn¡¯t kill me, and I wouldn¡¯t feed it anymore. Actual Diabolism would just make its gluttony worse than the blood I¡¯d accidentally fed it, and I didn¡¯t have six months where I could disappear anymore.

    Ignoring the pain twisting in my stomach, I put the boxes and the floorboard back, then replaced the putty. It would take a little time, but it would eventually look like all the repairs you did yourself to keep the cold air from reaching inside. The Biosculpting tools I''d need but those were for later. I''d need several hours to redo the cosmetic alterations maintaining my disguise, so best to save those for later in the evening.

    When you forge a mask, and wear it, you must become it. Whether you want to be that mask or not. Anything less and it''s no longer a mask, Malvia. And you''ll need masks, being you. We all do, but the two of us most of all.

    The remembered voice echoed in my mind as I looked back at the sink. Katheryn Falara did not use Diabolism. I could not be tempted again.

    I grabbed a coat and left. I might not be able to do anything about Voltar, but that intruder to my lab could provide some answers to this.

    ***

    Half an hour after concluding the events in my apartment, I and a recently collected Tolman were walking the path to my lab. It was still early morning, so the roads were merely somewhat crowded instead of fully packed with foot traffic.

    My stomach was calm now, although a worrying knot still sat at the bottom of it. Whether anxiety or the Diabolism making its displeasure known, it gnawed away at me.

    Tolman filled the early morning with a cheery banter that I didn¡¯t share with him.

    ¡°You know, one night, you¡¯re worried about me and Arsene being on the outs because of me working with you. The next morning, you¡¯re dragging me out to work with you again without letting me say a word in protest. You are the mistress of the mixed message, Falara.¡±

    I¡¯d just visited his house, a ramshackle place a few streets from mine, and pleasantly not had a run-in with Tolman¡¯s husband.

    ¡°If I¡¯d known Arsene sleeps so late in the day, I¡¯d visit more often. I¡¯m shocked he¡¯s the one who was bone tired and not you, considering how late you were out.¡±

    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    Tolman grinned. ¡°I wore him out plenty when I got home. Besides, even if he¡¯d been up, I¡¯m sure I could convince him to let me go with you. People prying into your past could find stuff on us we also want to be buried.¡±

    I nervously glanced at the other Infernals nearby, but the closest one, maybe a few paces behind us, didn¡¯t even react. This early in the morning, people were more focused on reaching their destination than listening in on our conversation. You woke up this early to beat the crush of foot traffic and the times when carts and wagons would travel the streets.

    Still, that didn¡¯t mean he should be so cavalier in what he said.

    ¡°And that includes your mystery intruder. You said you think he¡¯s one of Lord Montague¡¯s?¡±

    I¡¯d told Tolman an abbreviated version of the events since I¡¯d left him at Carnly¡¯s last night, along with a few suspicions on my part.

    ¡°Him or Lady Karsin,¡± I answered. ¡°Although I suspect his lordship more between the two.¡±

    ¡°Why, because you like Lady Karsin?¡±

    ¡°No, although I¡¯ll admit I have a personal animosity with Lord Montague. But Lady Karsin¡¯s heir is free of the poison¡¯s effects. He¡¯s had the antidote. She doesn¡¯t need more doses, but Montague does and did not like the price we negotiated.¡±

    He shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Sending someone to your lab the day you both met feels like a bit too fast for him to arrange. He decided to doublecross you immediately?¡±

    ¡°Good point,¡± I conceded. Lord Montague was a racist, arrogant man, but willing to risk his son¡¯s life on a single person finding the antidotes? Maybe not. ¡°I suppose we¡¯ll find out from the person themselves today.¡±

    ¡°Right, I wanted to ask. You left them in your closet overnight?¡±

    I sighed. ¡°Yes, I did. Tolman, I have had the unique displeasure of getting all of¡­.three, maybe four hours of sleep. I was in an even worse state last night.¡±

    ¡°So, did you beat him up while cussing him out like you did Three-toed Williams?¡±

    ¡°Katheryn Falara shouldn¡¯t even know who Three-toed Williams is,¡± I hissed, glaring at Tolman.

    We were in public! I already had to deal with my act slipping after just one encounter with one of the still loyal Old Crew, now Tolman was joking about past life things with me?

    We weren¡¯t alone in some deserted corner of the quarter, the streets were filling rapidly. Just within a dozen feet were a dozen people, including a trio of urchins, which I mentally noted as probably getting ready for a pickpocket attempt.

    ¡°Peace. Calm down. Most people here don¡¯t know who he is, either. You¡¯re bringing more attention to us by making a deal out of it.¡±

    A reply was on the tip of my tongue, but he was right. I took some breaths and forced myself to calm. ¡°Apologies, Tolman. Yesterday was simply a very trying time. It threw me off balance, but it will not happen again.¡±

    ¡°It probably will. I do understand what¡¯s going on, but you can¡¯t let it all get inside your head, Falara. The world is not out to get you.¡±

    I felt a small hand slip inside my pocket. My tail wrapped around the arm attached to it, yanking the street urchin forward so I could grab him.

    I glared at the urchin, my hand clamped onto his wrist. He immediately started screaming bloody murder, which very few paid more than a few moments of attention to. Everyone knew he was a pickpocket, and no one seemed inclined to believe the rather inventive list of things he was yelling I¡¯d done to him.

    ¡°That last one sounds anatomically impossible, but if you¡¯ve seen it personally, I would be interested in hearing the details,¡± I said. ¡°Now, are you going to be reasonable about this?¡±

    The urchin tried pawing at my clothes, either in an attempt at leverage or to strip me. Those couple of inch-long talons he sported could certainly manage the latter.

    It was a bit of a scramble that saw most of the surrounding traffic move away from us to avoid it. The urchin¡¯s two friends tried to close in, only to back off as Tolman gave them a look that invited them to try something. Eventually, I got both my arms underneath his shoulders and linked them around the back of his head.

    It was awkward, but I managed it well. Not quite the same kind of scrambling brawl I¡¯d done when I was younger. I got him into it with no difficulties or foul behavior on my part.

    ¡°What do you think?¡± I asked Tolman. ¡°A perfect little orphan to bring home to your husband as a gift for leaving without saying goodbye. You mentioned him wanting to add to your brood a while back.¡±

    ¡°What are you doing to him?¡± He asked. ¡°Also he¡¯s blackened your eye. That why you tried to gouge his out?¡±

    I frowned. ¡°Look, you weren¡¯t supposed to see the eye- never mind that. I¡¯ve seen you use this in the fighting pits. To subdue your opponents.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s supposed to be a full nelson? Sloppy.¡±

    The urchin, seemingly out of ideas, was still pawing at my blouse, my coat, anything as I kept the hold applied. He better not rip the fabric, this was my second-best outfit.

    ¡°I would disagree with your assessment of it being sloppy,¡± I said. ¡°I think I¡¯m doing it rather well-¡±

    ¡°Let go of me!¡± The pickpocket shrieked, turning into a flurry of motion. A foot kicked my knee, an elbow rammed into my ribs, and then teeth bit into my wrist. I quickly released the little imp, just in time for the back of his head to ram my nose.

    My tail reached out to grab him, only for him to claw it. I most definitely did not squeal in pain as I pulled my bleeding tail back to me.

    ¡°Let this be a warning to you!¡± I yelled at the retreating child after a few gasping breaths for more air. My ribs throbbed. Little shit was stronger than he looked. My words were more nasally than usual. ¡°Just because it looks like a good mark doesn¡¯t make it a good mark. Use your eyes for more than a few glances at a time!¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I think I¡¯ll pass on him as a gift for Arsene,¡± Tolman said, keeping an eye on the other two. They kept a healthy distance, clearly having reconsidered their odds. ¡°Seems a bit high-maintenance for a gift.¡±

    ¡°Did he break my nose?¡± I asked. It felt like it.

    He considered it for a second. ¡°No. Just a bit swollen. You didn¡¯t do the hold hard enough. Gave him too much room to work with. Doesn¡¯t help you¡¯ve decided to drop quite a bit of height and muscle. Also, you know, your tail.¡±

    I glared at him. ¡°Pardon me for trying to do a disguise as far removed from my previous self as I could get. And I never had that much muscle.¡±

    We could talk a little more openly. People were giving us a wider berth. Violence was not unusual for anyone, but staying away from the aftermath was a good idea.

    ¡°To the alleyway? The Watch may have decided to keep a heavier presence here since yesterday,¡± Tolman said.

    I nodded, and off we went to the relative privacy of the alleyway. The few residents of the alley kept their distance. Not managing to break into an abandoned house to live in instead meant they were all lower on the societal pecking order than Zarrow. Very low.

    I probed my nose, and winced as my fingers set off fresh bursts of pain. It went back to a slow, dull ache. Now that I knew it wasn¡¯t broken, there was something else to check.

    My tail bled from where the urchin¡¯s claws had cut through my skin, but it wasn¡¯t nearly as bad as I thought. From all the blood, I thought he¡¯d almost severed it. Instead, a quick bandage staunched most of the bleeding, although it hurt like hell.

    A few scattered pieces of fabric on the ground caught my attention. Three pieces, dull colors, and seemingly having appeared out of nowhere. Oh, hell.

    The little urchin had pawed all over my blouse instead of trying to escape and had seemed far too deliberate about it. And I doubted he¡¯d wasted an attempt to pick my pockets to try and grope me. I checked my blouse and found a scrap of different fabric that had sewn itself into my blouse.

    ¡°Tolman, one second. The urchin tagged me with a self-sewing tracer.¡±

    Quick as a flash, said urchin¡¯s two compatriots fled into the alleyway.

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s not good,¡± Tolman said. ¡°Self-sewing tracer? You mean just a tracer?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± I said, examining the patch of crimson fabric. It was maybe a few centimeters in length, which helped it stand out less on the brown of my blouse. I drew a knife snd started trying to cut it off. ¡°It started melding with the fabric of my blouse the moment the kid slapped it on.¡±

    ¡°Is that as easy to make as a normal tracer?¡±

    ¡°No. It would be much more difficult,¡± I said. Concerning. A tracer would already be a pretty expensive investment of magic to trust to a street kid. A self-sewing one? Who would trust an urchin with one of those? Even the Watch mostly sewed them into the clothes themselves.

    A name came to mind. Versalicci would trust urchins with this. He used to trust me with this back when I was just a street rat. It had been just regular ones back then. These were new to his arsenal. How many more of these had been put on me?

    Sighing, I took my coat off, looking along the inside and outside for any more tracers.

    ¡°People are watching,¡± Tolman said. It was true, a few people in the surrounding houses looking down at us; most of them would probably be leaving for the morning commute soon enough.

    ¡°Let them. They will be very disappointed if they expect to see more than my coat off.¡± I groaned as I counted the number of tracers. Three, no, wait four, as I found one that was the exact same shade as my coat. I¡¯d only found it because my thumb had rubbed over the slight bump made by it. ¡°How many are on my blouse?¡±

    Tolman circled me. ¡°Three on the blouse, two on your skirt. Someone wants you tracked bad.¡±

    I sighed. My entire wardrobe would be ruined at this rate. With Tolman pointing them out, I cut each of them free, trying to spare as much of the fabric as possible.

    ¡°This was my second nicest set of clothes,¡± I said to no one in particular. ¡°My best was already ruined after yesterday. If that urchin shows up again Tolman, I will shoot him.¡±

    ¡°I thought he was going to be my adoptive child? You aren¡¯t going to be considered his aunt now.¡±

    We set off for the lab again, and I covered up much more with the coat than before. I wasn¡¯t indecent underneath, but removing the tracers took away more fabric than I would have preferred.

    ¡°Versalicci is the one who ordered this. It''s another issue to be solved on top of all the others,¡± I said.

    ¡°Talk to him.¡±

    ¡°Talk to him? I might as well serve myself to him like a turkey at the solstice. I¡¯d be dead before I could even meet him.¡±

    Tolman chuckled. ¡°He likes you, Falara. He won¡¯t kill you. I¡¯d be surprised if he does anything more than keep track of you and drop some suggestions you should drop by to see him.¡±

    ¡°Katheryn Falara might associate with criminals, but she does not associate with the Black Flame.¡±

    ¡°Well, first, Katheryn Falara is probably notable for not dealing with Flames at this point, and second, she might not have a choice in the matter.¡±

    I shivered. ¡°Tolman¡­.you know what he¡¯s like. I can¡¯t go back.¡±

    ¡°Not saying you should. Arsene and I left for a reason as well. But you can¡¯t pretend he doesn¡¯t exist, and you might as well leverage what you can. He¡¯s not willing to jab you in the face. Set him up for an uppercut. Find out what he wants and why he¡¯s so desperate to tag you. Maybe get someone else to box him instead.¡±

    ¡°I hate it when you use those kinds of metaphors. But thank you. We should save the rest of the discussion for after we finish this.¡±

    We¡¯d reached the building my lab was at, and shock of shocks, my Landlord still was not here. Neither were any of the other tenants. Not a surprise. None of them operated labs, they just used these apartments as storage. And trusted in their preparations and foul reputations to keep others out.

    This building had no security provided. You supposedly paid for some in the rent, but it never materialized. You only rented here if choices were slim or you were confident you could protect it yourself. In another building, that might mean hired muscle, watchers, maybe the backing of a gang or two. For this one it was magical defenses, prepared by the people who rented it.

    In my case, a rather simple spell I¡¯d paid to be installed where if you entered without a key, you would end up asleep. Simple and merciful, yes, but I couldn¡¯t handle the alternative. My neighbor had, and I hadn¡¯t known which was worse, seeing the liquified remnants of the would-be thief, knowing they¡¯d slowly melted, unable to do anything about it, or listening to the psychopath complain about the smell afterward.

    I opened up the door to my lab and passed the key to Tolman so he could cross the threshold.

    Inside you could see where I¡¯d fought the intruder. Luckily, not too much had been smashed, and most of the cupboards were still closed. I hadn¡¯t started any new potions, and it took longer than a day to brew since finishing the cures a couple of weeks ago. I¡¯d have to make sure nothing was missing from the storage. Then again, if the intruder took anything, it would be on them. Nothing they could have stolen would help them escape, at least not with the testing cabinet remaining intact.

    The testing cabinet lay at the back, the door still shut.

    ¡°Do you want to stay quiet?¡± he whispered.

    I shook my head. ¡°They probably heard the door open. You can hear us, can¡¯t you?¡±

    No response from the closet.

    ¡°Get ready. Don¡¯t hurt him unless he makes it necessary.¡±

    Tolman rolled his eyes at the unnecessary instruction. I reached for the testing closet key. The pain in my stomach was gone, replaced with what was definitely anxiety now. Finally, some answers were within reach as I fit the key into the lock.

    I opened the door. Inside my testing closet lay a small pile of clothes, a piece of paper, and no sign of the intruder from last night.

 Chapter 13- The Vanishing Act

    My testing closet lay utterly empty except for a small pile of clothes. I stared down at them. I¡­.the door had been locked. I leaned down, lifting the clothes up, searching through them as if I could find them hiding among them. The door had been locked!

    I found nothing besides the piece of paper, which had three words scrawled across it: Out For Lunch.

    The rest of the room was bare, which wasn¡¯t strange. You could see the marks on the stone floor from me dragging the testing table in and out of the room, and nothing else was stored here during testing. Which only made the lack of the intruder more apparent.

    I let out a noise reminiscent of a steam whistle as I moved to one of the walls, hammering it with my fist. Rough wood threatened to put splinters in my hand as Tolman leaned down, reading the note.

    ¡°Well, what do you know, they disappeared from a locked closet. And they left their clothes behind. Maybe they got overly warm and decided to go streaking to cool off?¡±

    I ignored the joke. Thud went my head into the wall, then again and again. My head hit rough wood, my short horns digging into it.

    ¡°Falara? It was a joke.¡±

    ¡°Why me?¡± I asked no one in particular. ¡°I¡¯ve done my best. It¡¯s been years since I killed anyone before yesterday. I barely do anything worse than anyone in this district. I¡¯ve kept away from the worst of my vices. I¡¯ve not done a scrap of diabolism since. Why are the gods punishing me?¡±

    Tolman went to grab a chair from my lab, sitting down on it. ¡°I''m pretty sure stopping killing people doesn¡¯t improve your standing too much. Scamming people and stealing at the same level as those in this district is still a sin. And you drink way too much mead to claim you don¡¯t have any vices.¡±

    ¡°Tea is not a vice. Neither is mead. But besides that, things were looking up. Now they¡¯re heading down at a swift rate.¡±

    He¡¯d picked up some of the clothing, searching it for anything hidden inside. ¡°Might be true, but no use moping about it. You¡¯ve had a few bad days. You¡¯ll bounce back.¡±

    Tolman did have a point. Moping about this would not solve anything. Sighing, I looked around the lab. I had an emergency teapot somewhere. The intruder had gone through the drawers again, opening up even more ingredient containers I dutifully shut. Some of these were ruined, but at least nothing poisonous had been touched.

    I eventually found the shattered remnants of my spare teapot inside one of the cupboards. Ah, they had chosen death.

    I returned to the testing closet where Tolman had finished going through the clothes pockets.

    ¡°Okay. Let¡¯s think about this. The intruder got out, but they couldn¡¯t have used a key. Outside of why they didn¡¯t just use it to continue trying to fight me, leaving the clothes here suggests their only method of escape required needing to strip their clothes off.¡±

    Tolman cocked his head. ¡°Are you copying Voltar?¡±

    I didn¡¯t know whether he was referring to having encountered Voltar as part of the Black Flame or one of Dawes¡¯ published accounts of their cases. He was right, but I did sound like the detective''s vocalization of his deductions.

    ¡°I¡­it¡¯s not copying. Voltar didn¡¯t invent deductive thinking, Tolman. But besides that point, if the intruder could open the door, they wouldn¡¯t have stripped naked.¡±

    ¡°Unless they want you to think that.¡±

    I shook my head. ¡°No. As insane as events in this district get, someone strolling through naked would have gotten attention. They wouldn¡¯t do that willingly. So they got out of the testing room. The door is locked, and most of the room is reinforced. So the only potential exit is this.¡±

    This was the crack underneath the door, one I¡¯d cut out myself to precise measurements. If testing something with dangerous fumes, I¡¯d stop it up with a material that would expand and seal it off from the air. Then, I¡¯d prepare the rest of the lab so I could safely open the door. Not the best solution, but on limited funds the best I could do. Most of the time I left it unblocked, like I had last night.

    It also was a gap only half an inch tall. I should have noticed my stop-gap of rags to stop the intruder¡¯s screaming had somehow vanished.

    Tolman leaned down, poking a finger into the gap. ¡°You think he made it out through that?¡±

    I lay down on the floor, looking at the crack. ¡°Unless another explanation presents itself, it¡¯s what we must go with.¡±

    I wasn¡¯t enthused about this being the possibility either, but there were no signs of another way they could have left. The wood of the testing closet, roughly knotted and pockmarked, was solid and showed no signs of being tampered with.

    ¡°Well, if he went through there, maybe he Biosculpted himself to fit through it?¡±

    I shook my head. ¡°Remember how long it took me to alter myself compared to you and Arsene? It¡¯s even more time-intensive when you work on yourself because inevitably you¡¯ll be altering parts of your body that help you manipulate the tools you use to alter it.¡±

    That had been the struggle in handling my own disguise. The only reason I¡¯d managed it was having a half-year in which to do it bit by bit slowly. Once in place, the temporary alterations only required me to touch up on them and fuel them every two weeks. I¡¯d done minor alterations, like the ones since Lady Karsin had contacted me, but they were relatively easy compared to altering my entire form.

    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be possible to do some quick and dirty ones just to make him capable of leaving under the door?¡±

    ¡°If she, or he wanted to try that in the time they had, they must have accomplished some breakthrough in the field that I haven¡¯t heard a whiff of. We¡¯re talking about a complete transformation to something barely resembling their base form overnight.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve not been doing it the past couple of years. Considering how little you''ve been doing, you might be a little out of touch.¡±

    ¡°Which doesn¡¯t mean I haven¡¯t been following it.¡± Although if the ability to alter one''s form on the fly like this had been made, it being kept secret wasn¡¯t too far a stretch. Not if they wanted to keep that ability for themselves. But there was still one issue besides all that.

    I gestured at the pile of clothes at our feet and hooves. ¡°Even if they did make some breakthrough, they wouldn¡¯t be able to take their sculpting tools with them. Even the finest set wouldn¡¯t fit through that opening.¡±

    ¡°If not biosculpting, perhaps some other kind of magic. Teleportation?¡±

    ¡°They could have taken the clothes with them if they teleported. Shifting magic maybe, but they all have a limited number of forms, and anything small enough to fit through the door crack would be difficult to change back from.¡±

    ¡°Right, you mentioned it a couple of times when Darlav wanted to become part wolf. The animal brain exerts an influence, and the smaller you get, the more it does. What happened to him anyway?¡±

    ¡°Went chasing stories of lycanthropes. Versalicci didn¡¯t receive it well. You never heard?¡±

    ¡°Versalicci trusted me with a lot less than he did you. But if we¡¯re talking about lycanthropes, vampires, maybe? They can turn into mist. Even if they¡¯re a bit rare.¡±

    I snorted. The reason vampires were rare is that most of them were dead. After the Infernal Empire''s collapse, vampire hunters killed most of the known vampires. Which didn¡¯t stop rumors of them cropping up every time a new spree of murders occurred. Even in quite a few cases where the killer has been caught, rumors still fly about a vampire being responsible. It was easier to believe a blood-sucking monster could do such cruel acts over someone you knew.

    This was on top of the usual everyday rumors about various nobles or public figures secretly being vampires. Although apparently, a new trend among some in the upper class was to pretend to be vampires. Supposedly to spice up their love lives, or so I¡¯d heard.

    That sounded like the kind of utter nonsense people stuck in arranged marriages might pursue to spice up their lives. Either way, I doubted any member of the nobility could be a vampire.

    ¡°If it was a vampire, I doubt I could have manhandled them into the closet so easily. And before you ask about lycanthropes, outside of them, they are also strong enough to rip my arm from its socket on average, and they can¡¯t displace their mass as easily. Their animal forms can¡¯t get smaller than a small dog. No, wait. Some can do vermin, but only very large vermin.¡±

    ¡°Shapeshifters, perhaps? They might be able to shrink their bodies small enough to fit out between the door crack.¡±

    ¡°The last shapeshifter known to exist in the city was perhaps a hundred years ago? Ignoring all the claims and rumors that were never proven.¡±

    Those were always in season, especially if you wanted an excuse guaranteed not to work for why your spouse caught you cheating on them.

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t mean it wasn¡¯t a shapeshifter. Not knowing if someone is them or not is part of their entire deal.¡±

    I frowned. ¡°The question is why they¡¯d be rooting through my lab. Regardless of whether they are shapeshifters, vampires, or something else. Montague still tops that list.¡±

    ¡°Where did you put the cures?¡±

    ¡°Somewhere secure,¡± I answered. ¡°Not that I don¡¯t trust you Tolman, but considering everything that¡¯s occurring, I¡¯m not saying it out loud.¡±

    ¡°Maybe you shouldn¡¯t in your head either, you never know if they have someone capable of reading minds,¡± he joked.

    I glared at him. ¡°I am being precisely the amount of paranoid this situation requires, Tolman. Those cures were expensive to make, and I doubt I¡¯ll be able to acquire the ingredients for more.¡±

    There were very few substances that could be substituted for the extracted brain fluids of a draconic entity. I doubted another would die again so soon or be so poorly guarded. Smaller creatures wouldn¡¯t be much easier to find and wouldn¡¯t be as useful to harvest. You didn¡¯t tend to get much fluid out of the brains in the first place.

    I couldn¡¯t go out and kill one either. Outside of morality, I rather doubted I could.

    Sighing, I went through the pile of clothes again. I found nothing, not even any personal items to help find out who he¡¯d been. The clothes were definitely not what I expected: a morning coat with silver metal thread mixed in, trousers, a waistcoat with more metal thread except this looked like gold, a shirt with well-done embroidery, and even a top hat. Despite our brief fight last night, their tears were only minor.

    Had the intruder broken into my lab after a fancy dinner party?

    ¡°We¡¯ll need to take these with us,¡± I said, already folding them up. I¡¯d need to find a box or a bag from my lab to put them in.

    Tolman tossed me the waistcoat. ¡°They¡¯re pretty fancy, but I don¡¯t see pawning them earning you much.¡±

    I considered the belt missing from the set of clothes. Perhaps taken with, if it could fit under the door? Perhaps with a weapon, like the second saber I had strapped to my own? ¡°Maybe I¡¯d pawn them eventually, but I meant more for finding out who the intruder is with them. These couldn¡¯t have been cheap. Hrrm, no identifying marks, but they might have been hand-tailored.¡±

    We both left the lab, the clothes stowed away in a bag. I locked it behind me and sighed. I¡¯d have to remove everything from here or figure out how its defenses had been bypassed.

    ¡°Apologies for dragging you out here, Tolman.¡± I pressed a few pounds into his hand. If I kept burning through Lord Montague¡¯s advance at this rate it wouldn¡¯t last a week.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it,¡± he said, taking the money and then opening the door for me. We¡¯d be traveling light. I¡¯d have to hire security or people to help me move the lab¡¯s contents and tools. ¡°It beats work at the laboring and gives me something outside the fighting pits. Arsene is the breadwinner anyway, even if he keeps moaning about not being able to artifice like he used to. I think someday he will murder Karlat for not doing things right.¡±

    Karlat would be the blacksmith Arsene had gone to work under after I¡¯d arranged his, Tolman''s, and my own exits from Versalicci¡¯s gang.

    ¡°Still. This is an additional risk for you since Versalicci knows who I am. He might guess you and Arsene¡¯s true identities.¡±

    Tolman snorted derisively. He always didn¡¯t have the proper fear and respect one should have for Versalicci. He¡¯d not been around the boss when things had reached the end, and he¡¯d never been as far into the inner circle as he thought.

    I¡¯d never spill the details on that. Partially because just remembering some of them made me sick, partially not to draw attention from Versalicci. I did not want to see if any of the curses set up to prevent us from talking about them still worked.

    We reached the downstairs. It would be mid-morning now, so if I ran for it, I might make it to Halmon before he closed for today.

    Of course, as soon as we exited the building, the next batch of trouble began.

 Chapter 14 - Never a moments rest

    I resisted the urge to curse. Not only would it not do anything, but the assortment of thugs before me and Tolman might think it referred to them.

    It did, but provoking them wouldn¡¯t do any good.

    Five people stood outside the entrance, maybe a dozen feet away. Most of them wouldn¡¯t look out of place on the street, dressed like vagrants, bearing the stained teeth of those addicted to one substance or another. Of course, most vagrants didn¡¯t stand in a loose line outside the entrance of this place. Most vagrants didn¡¯t possess the very well-kept knives this group was using to do such mundane tasks as picking their nails.

    Most also didn¡¯t have a trio of street rats behind them, one of whom was busy making obscene hand gestures at me while shrieking insults about my parentage.

    There were no Black Flame tattoos in sight, which was not a shock. Part of the reason the tattoo existed was for members of the gang to deliberately not have it. Badges of honor and sisterhood were useful for morale, but they were also useful for making the Watch think you had to have one to be a member.

    ¡°I think we¡¯ve been followed,¡± I confided in Tolman quietly.

    ¡°Amazingly, I must agree. Raises the question, why do you think the kid tried to put tracers on us then? It¡¯s not like you renting out of here is a secret.¡±

    ¡°Maybe they didn¡¯t expect us to come here,¡± I replied before continuing from the front entrance into the street below.

    I didn¡¯t recognize any of the Black Flame, although the leader seemed a little familiar. I recognized the three orphans in the back, the lead one being the wannabe pickpocket. He had given up on parental-based insults. Now a grin on his face that threatened to bisect his head with how broad it was, eyes taunting.

    Ah, the follies of youth. I pulled a pistol from within my coat, not all the way. Just enough for the flintlock hammer to clear the coat. His eyes widened immediately, the smile vanishing. He and his two friends scampered off into the distance.

    The lead Black Flame leader looked at their fleeing forms and then turned her attention back to me. ¡°Was that really called for?¡± She chided me. ¡°He already got a chewing out for fucking up the job on you. Poor kid¡¯s also going to get a lashing from Syn, he¡¯s got enough problems for today.¡±

    I folded my arms, not reaching for my replacement saber quite yet. Lashings? Huh, just when I thought Versalicci couldn¡¯t get any worse in managing his little criminal empire. Syn being alive wasn¡¯t too much of a shock. Rats knew the best ways to escape death.

    ¡°Considering that he put tracers on my person knowing how this would probably turn out, I don¡¯t see putting a fright into him as some grand sin. Why are you here?¡±

    The leader held her hands up placatingly. ¡°Mr. Versalicci wants to have a chat with you is all. About your mutual dead friend Mr. Golvar.¡±

    ¡°Calling Golvar a friend is stretching it,¡± I replied. ¡°But if he wants to ask how Golvar died, the answer is simple and doesn¡¯t need me. Golvar got stabbed to death by Pure-Bloods, as part of a delivery. He probably knows more than me about that.¡±

    I knew this one from somewhere, now that I was focused more on her than the urchin. The unsymmetrical cheekbones, for one thing, one lower and forced inward compared to the other. It probably had been broken sometime in the past and never healed properly. The tail end of my time in the gang? Probably.

    ¡°Mr. Versalicci doesn¡¯t doubt you didn¡¯t kill him. But he does have some¡­questions he wants answered in person. As well as some missing property he thinks you possess.¡±

    Tolman moved next to me, expression calm, but I could read the tension behind that. So could the leader of the group, who now had a hand firmly inside her coat. Pistols? A risk of the Watch, which would normally not be a factor except they¡¯d been here yesterday.

    I wish I could tell him to back away. We couldn¡¯t communicate with each other, at least not with the hand signals. I really should have set up some kind of alternate form of communication for us that didn¡¯t have its origins inside the Black Flame.

    ¡°You can tell Mr. Versalicci that I will meet with him on the subject at a later date, but I do not possess his property,¡± I said.

    One of the thugs chuckled as the smile on the leader¡¯s face grew a mite less warm.

    ¡°How about you tell him yourself?¡± she asked.

    ¡°I unfortunately have a very busy day, nor do I particularly want to see Mr. Versalicci. I made that very clear last time we met I did not want to see him again, no amount of gifts would change my mind, nor any other overtures he might make. If you want to take a message back, how about this? I¡¯ve made it clear I¡¯m through with him, and if he insists on continuing his pursuit of me, I will reveal things he does not want made public.¡±

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    The leader¡¯s face went blank, and some of the others were muttering amongst themselves. While I didn¡¯t make out much, a few words were loud enough to hear. ¡®Think she¡¯s the lady in red?¡¯

    What, no, the Lady in Red was dead. Laurata had breathed her last, not being paid back in the slightest for being Versalicci¡¯s¡­.

    My mind blanked as they connected the dots of what this group of Black Flame was clearly thinking.

    The leader cleared her throat. ¡°I was told this was a delicate case, didn¡¯t realize it was that delicate. Miss Laurata, it¡¯s been a while since we last met, but I can assure you this isn¡¯t related to the relationship you had with the boss.¡±

    Tolman started roaring with laughter, making it for a full second before I elbowed him in the ribs.

    This needed to be clarified. Immediately. ¡°You misunderstand me, I am not Lau -¡±

    One of the Black Flame glanced to the side and then immediately turned, knives clearing their coat. My own hand pulled out my flintlock, head turning.

    Four humans were heading our way, canes in hand, the one in front bearing a top hat. More Pure-bloods? Why would they be here?

    Don¡¯t question it Malvia, I told myself.

    The Black Flame leader had spotted them as well. She gestured to the other members of the gang, who turned their attention away.

    By the time they turned back to the entrance, me and Tolman were halfway to the alleyway.

    I resisted the urge to look back as a gun fired behind us. It didn¡¯t impact anywhere near us. The best thing to do was leave and let the two gangs beat and kill each other instead.

    More gunshots sounded as we skidded into the alley. I spared a moment to look behind us. The Black Flame members were seemingly torn but most had turned on the Pure-Bloods.

    I slipped my pistol back into my coat as I ran. No need to present a threat. Time for the opposite, actually.

    Tolman gave me a look of fake scandalization as we hurried through the alleyway, a grin threatening to break through the surface. ¡°So did you mean to imply you and Versalicci were slee-¡±

    ¡°Finish that sentence, and I¡¯ll remove the repairs on your horns,¡± I said.

    I spared a look behind us. No one had even bothered chasing after us. Both groups probably knew where I lived, they weren¡¯t too fussed about wasting their morning chasing us. I was almost insulted by how little effort they were putting into this.

    Then again, they were likely too busy killing each other.

    ¡°We can stop. And no, I did not intend to give that impression.¡± Even considering the thought made my stomach rebel worse than the diabolism had.

    ¡°He¡¯ll probably be just as horrified as you if he hears about it. That or he thinks he got things very wrong and thinks you¡¯re really Laurata in disguise. Which well, considering what your disguise as Falara looks like, I can see why.¡±

    I considered the shade of my skin and the adjustments I¡¯d made in the last few days and came to a horrific realization. ¡°Oh gods, I do look a little like Laurata. No wonder they suspected I might be her. Why didn¡¯t you tell me?¡±

    Tolman chuckled. ¡°I thought you were aiming for that kind of look?¡±

    Unconsciously maybe. When I was fourteen, Laurata seemed to be the most elegant and refined person in existence. Had I gone for a look similar to hers because of that?

    I sighed. This disguise would need to be changed regardless. ¡°Okay. Enough on that. Did you recognize the leader of that little band?¡±

    Tolman looked back down the alley towards where the fight must be raging on. ¡°Not by name. She was a new recruit right before everything went straight to hell. Guess she¡¯s advanced far up the ranks since then.¡±

    ¡°She wouldn¡¯t have a lot of competition,¡± I replied. ¡°Well, it seems from the lack of whistles the Watch is not as on the ball as they were yesterday. We should probably use that to our advantage and get as far away as we can.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m surprised you want to run. I imagine whoever¡¯s left will try and break into your lab?¡±

    ¡°They will,¡± I agreed. ¡°I¡¯d say they¡¯d have to make it past the defenses first, but considering last night¡­.write it off as a loss.¡±

    We finally slowed down to a walk. Whistles were beginning to blow, but nowhere near us. I turned back to face where my lab had been. Gods damn it, I¡¯d just built that place up, and most of Lady Karsin¡¯s payment had gone into that. Pain lanced through my palms.

    ¡°Malvia, your hands,¡± Tolman warned me.

    My nails had started cutting into my palms. Cursing, I pulled them out, watching as drops of blood started falling. It took half a second to get some cloth out of a pocket and wrap it over the bleeding wounds.

    Tolman looked at me cautiously. ¡°We can probably take the survivors of that little skir-¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± I cut him off. ¡°I appreciate the thought, but I doubt it¡¯s the last group that will be sent, and we just don¡¯t have time to move anything. I got the cures for Angel¡¯s Sorrow out last night. It¡¯s not ideal, but we can rebuild, and you are not risking your life over this.¡±

    ¡°Alright. What¡¯s our next move then?¡±

    ¡°Your next move is heading home before Arsene gets more reason to kill me,¡± I muttered. ¡°For me, next is meeting with Halmon and then dealing with Kalasyp¡¯s clients.¡±

    ¡°With how worried you¡¯ve been, I¡¯m surprised you don¡¯t think Kalasyp¡¯s offer is a trap,¡± Tolman said.

    ¡°The thought did cross my mind,¡± I confessed. ¡°But if they knew where my apartment is, there¡¯s no real need to arrange for me to head to his lab.¡±

    ¡°Wanting to abduct you in a more quiet, isolated spot?¡±

    ¡°His lab is underground and right next to the Delver¡¯s Guild headquarters,¡± I said. ¡°Trying to abduct me would be right next to people who might actually intervene if they see someone being abducted.¡±

    Tolman whistled. Getting real estate in one of the old dwarf quarters was an achievement. ¡°How did he get such a prime piece of real estate?¡±

    ¡°Old deals with the guild masters,¡± I answered. ¡°He used to be something of an adventurer a century or two back.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re joking. He doesn¡¯t look it even a little. And he¡¯s extended his life?¡±

    ¡°Apparently, they don¡¯t mind too much if it¡¯s done with enemies of the state. Which includes anyone who happens to be in a dungeon the Empire wants to be cleared.¡± We¡¯d reached the street by now, and after a second Tolman was heading down the street.

    I headed the other way, still checking my hands. The cuts weren¡¯t too deep, so healing them could wait. I could take the main tunnels down, but I didn¡¯t want to run the risk of being ambushed by another group of Pure-bloods or Black Flame.

    Time for the smaller tunnels. There were dozens of them, and not well-patrolled. This close to the surface, there shouldn¡¯t be any creatures. But given my luck today, there probably would be something down there.

    I checked the flintlock. I¡¯d been holding out on buying a revolver, the new weapon costing easily twenty times a trusty old flintlock. That was changing the first chance I got. But for now, it would have to suffice underground.

 Chapter 15 - What lies underneath

    I really needed to stop going into dark places.

    I did have a lamp with me this time, a candle burning at the center and providing some light. Not as much as I¡¯d prefer. The darkness ahead shifted as I pushed forward, shadows dancing along the tunnel walls.

    I walked along a rough stone path, maneuvering carefully in a tunnel not much larger than I was. I should be grateful the dwarves who¡¯d carved out this rectangular passageway had bothered to make it big enough for folks my size. Not too much bigger as my horns scraped against the tunnel ceiling for a third time.

    The problems of taking the smaller tunnels as opposed to the main thoroughfares. Originally the plans had been for all of these to be constantly patrolled, when the invasion had started. Plans changed very rapidly. Originally they¡¯d envisioned an underground frontier and already built dwarven settlements ready to colonize.

    Those were settled now, leftover dwarves and adventuring guilds and an assortment of others flooding in. The rest, including the mines? Less so. Colonization was going to be a ways off till the Imperial government was certain the yield from the mines would be consistent. Monsters made that difficult.

    They¡¯d been allies to the Shining Princess, back during the campaigns to depose Her Most Profane Majesty. They¡¯d been firm allies for the decades after until she¡¯d decided to declare them a protectorate and formally part of the empire. The economic issues ravaging the empire at the time most definitely were not part of the reasons to extend the empire¡¯s protective shield to the dwarven kingdoms, as the newspapers had insisted so many years ago.

    Everyone knew dwarves had money. It had been a fact you didn¡¯t question, even after the idea had taken a few hits. When I¡¯d been pickpocketing on the streets a decade ago, the assumption was that if you saw a dwarf, they had wealth.

    If you ventured past that image of them, it turned out that after a drawn-out campaign that took a decade and ended up driving the entire race further underground didn¡¯t tend to leave much wealth behind. Their surface raids hadn¡¯t helped the economic situation; what land had been recovered had been left bare and without any wealth, and very few new citizens of the empire had been gained out of the deal. Whoever had decided to sell the idea to Her Majesty that a long drawn-out war would revitalize the economy was unknown, although Duchess Lindisfair¡¯s horse riding accident soon after was a decent indicator.

    The end of the campaign had led to the Understreet incident partially because Imperial officials had become curious about the stretch of the underground populated by Infernals instead of dwarves.

    The mines were still here in the dwarven tunnels far below, but other issues were still lingering about. Speaking of those issues.

    My lantern''s light illuminated a slick green trail across the tunnel floor. I cautiously poked it with the tip of my hoof. Pulling back, my hoof seemed to have nothing wrong with it besides the new layer of gunk. The slime probably wasn¡¯t acidic, at least to keratin.

    I eyed the slime trail. It stank, and from its lime green color, it probably belonged to something I wanted no part of. So many creatures made trails like this, but the general rule was the stranger the creature, the more dangerous it would be.

    Of course, it shouldn¡¯t be here to begin with. The guilds were responsible for preventing any monsters from the deeper earth from making their way up here. Meaning this probably originated aboveground.

    It had been bad enough when the only things down here were monsters spawning from the heart of the earth. Over time this place had also become a dumping ground for failed experiments. My fellow Biosculptors never stopped surprising me with how utterly insane their creations could be, as well as their own lack of self-preservation. No amount of regulations seemed to stop them either, you always had one growing some strange abomination in their cellar. There was always something new every month, whether it was some strange shapeshifting abomination that absorbed people into itself or mosquitos that drove into your brain through the nose and puppeteered you.

    I suppose only its usefulness to the Empire kept it from being publicly banned like Diabolism. From personal experience, this was probably the right decision on their part.

    Something gurgled up ahead, a wet, phlegmy sound.

    My tail looped around the lantern''s handle, leaving my hands free as I crept forward.

    I drew my pistol and saber. After the first tangling with the Purebloods, I didn¡¯t have any acid on me, and anything else might just scratch it. The gurgling noise grew, along with the sounds of something scraping across the stone.

    A lizard rounded the corner, gasping as it wriggled around. Two forelimbs grasped at the stone, pulling it forward while its rear resembled a slug, undulating as it forced itself forward. It was about the size of a wolf, though nowhere near as fast.

    ¡°Not any closer. Back!¡± I said authoritatively, weapons raised. Some Biosculpting creations could understand commands. Even if it couldn¡¯t, animals could pick up when something was threatening them.

    The lizard hissed and surged forward. I pulled the trigger on the pistol, the roar of firing gunpowder filling the room. The sudden smoke couldn¡¯t obscure the bullet hole sprouting in the lizard¡¯s head. It didn¡¯t halt, still charging.

    I nearly bit my tongue as I tried to back up. There wasn¡¯t room to maneuver here. I timed my slash with the saber, aiming for the scales along its neck. The blade bit deep through the scales. It didn¡¯t care, jaws trying to close on my face. I screamed back, pushing with the saber. Blood poured out of the hole in its forehead. I moved my tail, the coal lantern slamming into its eyes.

    The light flickered, shadows playing across the lizard¡¯s face as its teeth closed only inches away from my face. I¡¯d dropped the pistol, hand going for a dagger. It lunged again, jaws going for my head.

    Suddenly it shrieked, falling into the floor and splashing in a sudden pool of liquified rock.

    I didn¡¯t give it a chance to do anything. My saber cut again at the neck, and then I lunged forward, dagger going straight into the beast¡¯s eyes.

    It wailed and shrieked, no longer focused on me. I fell back, leaving the weapon stuck in there as it rammed into the walls. It continued to sink, till only the top half of its body protruded from the ground. Its movements slowed, the screaming weakened, and eventually, it slumped over.

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    I approached cautiously, prodding it with the tip of my saber. No reaction. I grabbed my dagger and pistol, stowing them back away, and examined the corpse. I briefly considered dragging the corpse with me but settled for cutting some scales loose and sealing some blood in a vial.

    I didn¡¯t want to be around if even more of these creatures were lurking in the tunnels. Although at least this was relatively minor in terms of the creatures these tunnels could spawn.

    The stone¡­ had frozen, like a roiling lake suddenly frozen in an instant. I prodded a wave of sediment with my saber, but it refused to budge. Damnations. I did not need this to become a thing again.

    I chose to focus on the creature instead, taking a few more samples before continuing on my way. I¡¯d been lucky, but it was a good indicator of why the Delver¡¯s Guilds were back in the city.

    One problem had become apparent as soon as the dwarves left the city. Without them guarding the Underground, the various creatures they regularly fended off had made a return. Originally army regiments had kept most of the new Dwarf Quarter clear, but the empire had new surface conflicts to fight instead. Leaving their newly gained territory filled with monsters.

    Adventuring was in the middle of a minor renaissance as a result, which had to irritate Her Majesty. Despite her own adventuring days as an exile, in the last decades, she¡¯d made it very clear that she considered monster hunting and ruin-delving a responsibility of the state. Especially as the number of ruins to delve into had dropped over the decades. Until the Dwarves had gone further underground, most adventurers headed to the colonies, and the Guilds went with them.

    Now they were back, although for how long was an open question. Maybe the streams of creatures from the dark depths would keep them busy for years as they lived off the bounties put on these creatures'' heads. Maybe they¡¯d exhaust them and be finished in a few more years.

    Until then, the underground was theirs.

    It took another twenty minutes of tight tunnels before I reached one of the larger ones carved out of the rock. Smooth stone twenty feet high and three times that across forming the walls and roof, occasionally broken up by another tunnel¡¯s entrance and rock statues of various dwarf figures carved out of the rock.

    Most of those were beginning to show signs of wear and tear. Edges and corners began to round as the rock was worn away. What dwarves had chosen to stay with the empire didn¡¯t feel confident enough to maintain them, apparently. I couldn¡¯t blame them, the general mood towards dwarves wasn¡¯t very positive these days. Monsters bursting from the underground in the aftermath of the war hadn¡¯t helped with that. Not their fault, but most didn¡¯t care, and the Empress certainly didn¡¯t want to intercede on their behalf.

    Familiar ground being retread there.

    The tunnel was empty. I was arriving after the morning rush of people who actually worked here. Guests were a common occurrence but typically took tunnels that didn¡¯t lead from the Infernal District. Hells, people going to one of the Dwarf settlements from the same general direction would circle around, finding other tunnels to take here.

    It did make for a nice quiet walk in the tunnels.

    Part of the stone wall shifted, and I took a few steps away from it. The surface had gone from solid stone to the surface of a pond. A sidewise pond made out of rock.

    I¡¯d be more upset if I didn¡¯t know what this was.

    ¡°Not interested,¡± I addressed whatever spirit had just decided to crawl through the walls. Probably damn powerful to leave a visible mark on the mortal world. ¡°How about you just keep moving through, and I¡¯ll pretend I didn¡¯t see you?¡±

    There was no reason spirits should be following me around. I¡¯d done my level best to make sure this body was as unable to perform magic as possible. Diabolism would only work because that had been half-clericism, half-magecraft, and me keeping the focus. The imp was still around, but I kept him quiet, and until the throat-biting incident, he¡¯d stayed quiet.

    There should be no reason any other spirits were interested in me. I couldn¡¯t even see them anymore with how much I¡¯d tried to Sculpt that ability out of myself.

    Nothing else happened. If the spirit had chosen to stay around me, the best I could hope for is that it remained quiet. I continued my walk down the tunnel. It took only a few more minutes for the gate to come into sight.

    The gate to the dwarven settlement was efficient for its goal, which was keeping people the hell out. Thick slabs of granite, split down the middle, only openable from inside and with the help of enchanted mechanisms. The amount of force to break this open would need to be massive, and it was hardly a surprise the few gates that had been shattered were still in their broken state.

    A single human stood guard at a hastily constructed wooden booth in front of the gate, clad in half-plate and a halberd at his side, both glowing faintly with runes. Surprising. You¡¯d think after three years, they¡¯d have replaced the booth by now.

    ¡°Hello, Mr. Jebediah,¡± I greeted the gate guard. He was hard to miss with the half-plate on. You didn¡¯t see that these days unless the owner had them loaded up on enchantments or was a paladin. ¡°Been having a busy day?¡±

    Joe Jebediah was in his late forties, grey just beginning to mix in with his hair as he leaned on his halberd. ¡°No busier than usual. You here on business?¡±

    I half-smiled. ¡°Business, yes. Guild business, no, and not likely for a while.¡±

    He raised an eyebrow. ¡°Something for me to keep an eye on?¡±

    ¡°Oh, not really. Local gang issues. If they choose to start anything down here, my already low estimate of their intelligence will sink even lower. More pertinently, I did encounter a monster on my way here. A lizard monster of some kind, probably a rogue Biomancy experiment. Didn¡¯t seem too harmful, but figured I should let you know.¡±

    Joe stiffened. ¡°Just some kind of lizard? Didn¡¯t do anything weird, did it?¡±

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t tell. I tried to drive it off, then killed it pretty quickly. Came up to about my waist, didn¡¯t really do much besides charge me and try to chow down. Had tentacles, so probably some Biomancer¡¯s pet they abandoned. Would have grabbed the corpse, but I¡¯m in a bit of a rush. If anyone else wants to try and retrieve the body, best of luck to them.¡±

    ¡°Probably some new signees,¡± Joe said with an amused tone. ¡°Lot of them feel real apprehensive about heading deep down, they make themselves useful running odd jobs. Anyway, just need to mark you in the book, and you can head inside.¡±

    ¡°Not a lot of traffic today?¡± I asked while he dragged out the logbook. Typically there was a line to get in through the gates.

    Joe sighed. ¡°You just missed the rush. Took forever to clear them, but it¡¯s either that or have the Imperials shut us down. Have you seen some of those new security automatons they¡¯ve been demonstrating at the Ironworks? Think they could get one of those to take over?¡±

    ¡°Hrrm,¡± I signed my name in the logbook and checked the time off the clock hanging from the cavern ceiling before adding that as well. ¡°I¡¯ve seen a few. Especially those new ogre-sized ones. Of course, those have their own issues. Were you there for the arm-wrestling demonstration?¡±

    He nodded eagerly. ¡°The one last week? Very impressive, managed to outwrestle that ogre in two seconds.¡±

    I nervously chuckled as I wrote down the street I¡¯d entered the tunnels from. ¡°I was not at that one. I was at one a few months back and well, it outwrestled the ogre in a fraction of that time. And also nearly ripped their arm off.¡±

    Joe winced. ¡°Ah. Well, it didn¡¯t do that this time, so I guess they¡¯re improving the design.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but they aren¡¯t that skilled at anything they aren¡¯t programmed to do, what they comprehend is still pretty limited, and on top of that, expensive as hell. I think you¡¯re stuck on gate duty for a while longer Joe.¡± I handed him back the logbook. ¡°I¡¯m good to head inside?¡±

    He took it back, quickly reading my entry. ¡°Yeah. Usual warnings: be careful, and don¡¯t provoke any fights or something similar like that. If you don¡¯t start anything, you aren¡¯t responsible for it, but restraint is appreciated by everyone. Got any idea how long you¡¯ll be in here?¡±

    ¡°Should only be a few hours,¡± I said as he knocked on the gates with his halberd. From inside came the sound of moving gears. Granite slabs began to move, opening a gap.

    ¡°Well, welcome back to the Delver¡¯s Guild.¡±

 Chapter 16 - Weave a Web

    All around me, the dwarf settlement extended up and down along the cavern''s walls.

    I¡¯d been in a few dwarf-built settlements underground before and each tended to differ depending on where they¡¯d carved out their settlements. When you have an existing natural cavern like here? They took the route that required the least work.

    Korvath had been built in what could best be described as an underground canyon, so the dwarves had taken to building their homes in the walls, dwellings carved into the rock. A single road threaded its way down to the bottom. Further up, the outskirts of settlements were carved to the side instead. Even dwarf architects hadn¡¯t bothered trying to build on the cavern ceiling. Not for this settlement, at least.

    The Imperials had hung an arcane sun from there, necessary for those of us whose vision wasn¡¯t functional in the dark underground. It hung there, a ball of glowing light that hurt to look at directly, especially as the intensity grew. At its dimmest, you could see the rune-encrusted metal sphere directly, shedding a dim light barely greater than a single moon. They¡¯d even made it go through a day/night cycle of a consistent twenty-four hours, which was more than could be said for the length of day and night on the surface.

    The guild headquarters and most of the businesses lay near the bottom of the settlement. Farther to walk if you didn¡¯t live down here, but easier access to the tunnels and caverns further below. Which left those dwarves who hadn¡¯t fled with their kingdom on the levels above, where I currently walked.

    A few watched me from the fronts of their houses. I could feel the weight of more eyes looking at me from within those houses. I did my best to ignore it, simply waving a hand in greeting. No one bothered to return it.

    They may have chosen to stay behind, but those who hadn¡¯t fled deeper into the earth did not like surface dwellers among them. Tolerated at best, and only with the strict understanding Imperials would come down on anything remotely resembling a rebellion.

    Going past the still-dwarf inhabited parts of the settlement, there were a lot fewer people in the houses and a lot more walking the street. Not too many, though, and only a dozen along my path toward the bottom.

    Most adventurers would have left on their delves by now. Those left would either be those taking the day off, new signees, or groups who¡¯d finished early. Which meant my path to Halmon¡¯s shop was mostly free of interruption.

    I ignored a pair of adventurers making the sign of Halspus at me. An irritating itch sprouted behind one of my eyes as one of them tried to follow me, shrieking something about succubi coming from the depths to tempt the honest, good people of the world.

    Trying to correct him on me not being a demon wouldn¡¯t help, and the only person coming close to falling for temptation down here would likely be him. I just hoped the little prick of divine magic that had hit me didn¡¯t irritate the imp.

    A wall near me shifted, turning liquid. I kept a wary eye on it, but after a few moments, it stilled.

    Nothing, I told myself. There were other practitioners of magic down here, all far more active than me. The spirit was likely attracted by them, not me. Best to keep my mind focused on the task at hand.

    According to the directions he left, Kalsyp¡¯s lab would be near the bottom, but I had enough time to check in with someone else first.

    Halmon¡¯s Ingredient store was unmarked, looking like another residential dwarf home taken over by someone from the surface. The granite walls only had a single door that remained firmly shut, and only the lamplight under the door hinted that this place was lived in.

    Halmon was a big believer in the idea that if you wanted his services, you¡¯d find them yourself. This was not the best business model, and it was probably why he remained relatively minor despite being an excellent supplier of alchemical ingredients. However, given how some of those ingredients were sourced, I could understand not wanting to advertise too publicly.

    I knocked thrice on the door, then waited. After a few seconds, a voice barked from within in a short clipped tone.

    ¡°We are closed. Come tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°Mr. Halmon,¡± I said, pitching my voice high enough to be heard through the rock door hopefully. ¡°I appreciate this being relatively close to closing time, but this is about an ingredient I acquired in part thanks to you. Just some questions, shouldn¡¯t be too long.¡±

    There was a pause, then a sound very similar to the hiss of steam leaving a teapot. ¡°Falara,¡± the voice hissed, followed by several words in gnomish that I could only guess the meaning of.

    The door opened, a young woman behind it, a slightly apologetic look on her face.

    ¡°Mr. Halmon will be out shortly. He said he needed to go¡­¡± her voice faded as she searched for a diplomatic substitution to what I was sure had been a string of profanity-laden instructions for myself: ¡°Freshen up? You¡¯re welcome inside, though.¡±

    Nodding my thanks, I entered Halmon¡¯s shop. It was a converted front hall and dining room, racks of herbs, preserved animal parts, crystals, and other alchemical ingredients crammed into every space wide enough to hold a shelf. The kitchen had been converted into a counter, and I¡¯d never ventured to the second floor or any other part of the residence turned store. Wooden doors separated those parts from the parts of the store available to the public, clearly installed by Halmon himself. Dwarves always used stone when and where they could.

    One of those swung open, and an elderly balding gnome in a suit stepped through carrying an empty basket, his expression carefully neutral.

    ¡°Mr. Halmon!¡± I waved over to the gnome. ¡°Already packing up for the day?¡±

    His neutral expression turned into a thin grin. ¡°Yep. And you know the rules. You are not in the store on time, you do not get access to my stock until tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°As loathe as I am to miss the opportunity, there are problems of a different nature I need to discuss with you. The ingredient I mentioned. Preferably in a more private setting?¡±

    Not too loathe to miss it. My lab was likely being destroyed as we spoke. Best not to dwell on that too hard. Increasingly, one option was becoming the most likely one to deal with this problem.

    Halmon grunted, then turned to his assistant. ¡°Harie, finish packing, then get ready. I¡¯m not missing out on tonight¡¯s expedition. You, follow me back.¡±

    I gave Harie a polite smile before following Halmon toward the back through a beaded curtain. Politeness was key, even with the impolite. Especially when said impolite could and would threaten those who were impolite back with explosives.

    The tale of Terry the thrice-exploded was very popular in the guild tavern.

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    The back of the store was a storeroom, shelves filled with various packages and boxes, a few herbs poking out on occasion. Elemental lilies, Dragon Toadstool, Mortaietia, a full stock. I felt a pang of jealousy looking over it all. This overshadowed the collection I had in my lab. Correction: used to keep it in my lab. If anything were left intact, I would be quite shocked.

    ¡°Get that look off your face,¡± Halmon snapped. ¡°If I find one thing missing from back here, I¡¯m coming to the surface and pouring holy water down your throat.¡±

    ¡°Why Mr. Halmon, I have no idea what you mean,¡± I said, hand up placatingly. ¡°Have I not been an honest and well-paying customer?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± he snapped. ¡°Which makes it even more likely you are part of a bigger scheme. Tell me which ingredient you had trouble with, and then get out of my store.¡±

    I suppose this is what I got for associating with the least reputable ingredient supplier down here.

    ¡°The ingredient in question isn¡¯t defective, I just have questions about where you got it from. Or more accurately, how you heard about it, since I handled the harvesting process. The wyvern whose location you suggested to me has brought me back here,¡± I said. ¡°It seems that-¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know anything about that,¡± Halmon scowled, folding his arms across his chest.

    I sighed. ¡°Yes, I¡¯m aware of your policy regarding admitting when you¡¯ve given someone information, and I am willing to pay for you to ignore that policy.¡±

    ¡°Ain¡¯t nothing to pay for. I got a hot tip, I sold you the hot tip, and the person who gave me that tip ain¡¯t popped in since then,¡± Halmon waved his hand dismissively. ¡°So we have nothing to talk about or trade coin about. You can leave.¡±

    ¡°I disagree,¡± I said, putting a single pound down on the table. ¡°You saw the person who gave the tip. That¡¯s information I could use, Mr. Halmon.¡±

    He grunted. ¡°Put the coin away. You¡¯ve been a good customer. Probably trying to rob me, but good for now. But I don¡¯t have much. And my name does not come up. In any circumstances.¡±

    I pocketed the coin. ¡°Anything is a help. It¡¯s a start, at least. And your name will not come up at all.¡±

    ¡°Really should grab someone capable of making binding oaths down here,¡± he muttered. ¡°But that would mean bringing a third person in. Fine. Red hair, green eyes, taller than me.¡±

    I frowned. That wasn¡¯t a lot to go on, although it did sound Keltish. Probably not the best idea to assume. ¡°How tall, approximately?¡±

    ¡°Taller than me,¡± the gnome replied. ¡°Anything beyond that is your concern, not mine.¡±

    ¡°Well Mr. Halmon, I am most grateful I did not spend a coin on this after all,¡± I said.

    He grunted. ¡°Out, please.¡±

    ¡°Certainly.¡±

    I didn¡¯t pay too much mind to the door slamming shut behind me as I continued on my way down. Well, that was one line of inquiry pretty much sunk. With everything that had happened, the sudden death of a wyvern and the very poor guarding of her corpse had stuck out in my mind as rather suspicious. Just in time for a series of poisonings requiring materials from her brain to cure? Didn¡¯t taste right. Someone was trying to play me. The only question was, who?

    One name lept to the forefront. Versalicci would tug me around just for the kicks, but especially if he thought the pressure could be leveraged to make me rejoin the Black Flame. I frowned at the thought. The main issue with that was nothing connected Versalicci to the poisoning business. And if he knew who I was there were easier ways to apply pressure.

    I stopped a few levels down, leaning on the short wall keeping people from toppling off the ramp. I still had about ten to go before I reached the bottom.

    This was infuriating. I had the names of people who I knew would love to try something like this, but there was no evidence they were involved, and other people I¡¯d never encountered before went out of their way to mess with me.

    ¡°Miss Falara?¡±

    My hand was on my saber¡¯s hilt before my mind processed whose voice it was. Behind me, Halmon¡¯s assistant had backed up against the wall, frightened.

    I let go of my saber. ¡°My apologies Miss Harie, I¡¯ve had a difficult day. May I help you?¡±

    She eased up, the tension fading out of her. ¡°No, but I can help you. I overheard your conversation with Mr. Halmon, and while I can¡¯t promise miracles, I think my memory of the customer you asked about is a little more concrete.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t help but notice you decided to come out here instead of bringing this up inside Mr. Halmon¡¯s shop?¡± That raised the worrying possibility that the gnome was in on this.

    Harrie winced, looking over her shoulder. ¡°I¡­want to request something in turn. Something Mr. Halmon wouldn¡¯t approve of.¡±

    I raised an eyebrow. ¡°You have my attention. What do you want?¡±

    ¡°A referral,¡± she said, doing her best to meet my gaze. She seemed to be resisting an urge to look back over her shoulder as she talked. ¡°I¡¯ve always wanted to join the guild, and my apprenticeship with Mr. Halmon was to be a stepping stone to joining the guild itself. However-¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re worried that by the time the apprenticeship is finished, the guild will have left.¡± I finished for her.

    She nodded. ¡°No one can give me a definite time, but the monsters coming from beneath cannot be endless. I want to feel the taste of adventure at least once in my lifetime. And the guildmaster talks to you fairly often.¡±

    ¡°Mostly because he wants to recruit me, and I¡¯ve kept the possibility open but never decided one way or the other,¡± I said. ¡°I have his ear a little, but not by much.¡±

    ¡°A little is more than nothing,¡± she replied.

    I looked over Harie with a more critical eye than I had all the times I¡¯d encountered her in Halmon¡¯s store. She was young, not as young as I¡¯d been when I¡¯d been conscripted into what some might term a very morbid kind of adventure. What kind of excitement was sweeping her up into the mood to head on one? Definitely one different than mine had been, and not one I really should pry into.

    ¡°The information on the customer who supplied the tip first, please,¡± I said.

    She nodded. ¡°It was weird, he couldn¡¯t have looked more Keltish, but his accent was Varavian. Not heavily, but just enough there for me to pick up on.¡±

    ¡°You have a lot of experience picking up on accents?¡± I asked.

    ¡°No, but I once helped some immigrants from there adjust to the city,¡± she explained. ¡°Even the ones who got our language the quickest had these traces of their old accent. They sounded very similar to him.¡±

    ¡°Cosmetic mods, more than likely,¡± I said to myself. ¡°I suppose if you want to keep your identity secret, an entirely different ethnicity is a good idea. Not being able to disguise your accent makes it a little less worthwhile, though.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know who else would have picked up on it,¡± Harie said, joining me at the little stone wall. ¡°It wasn¡¯t the weirdest thing about him, though.¡±

    I raised an eyebrow. ¡°It wasn¡¯t?¡±

    ¡°Nope. The customer was dressed like he¡¯d just come from a fancy dress party. Top hat, fancy coat, I think he even had metal woven into them.¡±

    ¡°Metal thread?¡± I grinned. Finally, something was fitting together. ¡°If I were to bring you some clothes, do you think you¡¯d tell if they were the same ones our mysterious Varavian masquerading as a Keltish we¡¯re wearing?¡±

    Harie frowned, thinking. ¡°I could tell if they looked like the ones he was wearing, but if they were the exact ones? No.¡±

    ¡°Close enough,¡± I said excitedly. ¡°I¡¯ll see when I can bring them down. You¡¯ve been a great help Miss Harie. I can find you down here once I have the clothes ready?¡±

    Those I¡¯d left with Tolman, who¡¯d keep them himself for now. Leaving them at my apartment seemed unwise.

    ¡°At Mr. Halmon¡¯s shop, and if not there then down at the guild hall. The Guild master lets me sleep there and earn some extra coins doing mundane tasks. And he wants to hear what Mr. Halmon has been up to.¡±

    I nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll check either of those first. My thanks, Miss Harie.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome. And the Guildmaster?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll suggest it. I can¡¯t do much more than that.¡±

    Truth be told, I didn¡¯t know what Almaseck would say. He¡¯d been trying to recruit me for a few years now, but an apprentice alchemist might be too low a level of experience for him.

    Harie nodded, then started to walk back towards Halmon¡¯s shop, and I continued my way down. The Delver¡¯s guild was close enough to make out people walking between the buildings down below.

    The guild hall occupied the old town hall of the dwarves. Three stories tall, it still bore the scars of battle. Hasty repair work had been done for the chunks in the roof and wall that were missing, but only the texture of the stone gave away what parts had been redone by mages.

    As large as the building was, the entire guild didn¡¯t fit in it. The guild sprawled across all of the lowest levels, spreading like a fungus across abandoned buildings repurposed from their original use. Oh, some still served their original purpose; the military barracks now housed adventurers.

    Easily a hundred of them lived there now, although I only knew about a dozen close. Most relationships down here I kept strictly mercenary.

    I waved to a few adventurers as I passed, people I¡¯d worked with freelancing for the guild. They¡¯d get word to Almaseck I was here sooner or later. I¡¯d be invited for another recruitment attempt disguised as a conversation.

    Hopefully, I¡¯d have finished my business down here and be done by then. Not that I didn¡¯t enjoy my discussions with the Guildmaster, but I had few enough hours in the day as is.

    I was one level away from Kalasyp¡¯s lab when my step faltered. A grey orc in a suit had rounded the corner, the insignia of the guild on the upper right chest of his suit jacket.

    Helvek, Almaseck¡¯s right-hand man. I wasn¡¯t dodging the meeting with the Guildmaster.

 Chapter 17 - Cost of a Buried Past

    I didn¡¯t try running. Helvek had spotted me already and made swift progress to where I stood. All running would do is delay this and antagonize him and Almaseck. Not something I could afford to do, nor want to do. No matter how much this delayed me, I was on decent terms with both of them.

    As Helvek neared I could make out more details. He still had his tusks polished, and the guild sigil tattooed right underneath his left eye. It seemed a little silly, but I used to polish my horns. I really couldn¡¯t judge.

    I waved a hand in greeting. ¡°Helvek, good to see you! I¡¯m sorry, but I¡¯m not here on guild business. Mr. Kalasyp, a fellow alchemist, hired me to check on his-¡±

    His steady baritone cut me off. ¡°Mr. Kalasyp already sent word that you¡¯d be entering his lab. That¡¯s not what this is about, Miss Falara. Mr. Almasek would like to see you.¡±

    ¡°It seems many people want to see me as of late,¡± I said. ¡°How truly urgent is this?¡±

    ¡°Very urgent,¡± Helvek said. ¡°He said he¡¯d appreciate you treating it like a serious matter. No delaying this for days like you usually do because you¡¯d rather do something else.¡±

    ¡°I treat everything seriously. It¡¯s just some things by nature are more important to me than others. We all have our priorities.¡±

    Helvek remained quiet. The orc, as far as I knew, didn¡¯t have any strong opinions outside of the ones the Guild paid him to have.

    I sighed. ¡°I¡¯m not getting out of talking with him before I can leave, right?¡±

    ¡°You are correct.¡±

    ***

    Helvek had escorted me right to the guildmaster¡¯s office. It was busier than usual, a dozen adventurers gathered. All of them must be here for one reason or another involving Almaseck, and I¡¯d offered an apologetic grin as I¡¯d been marched past the entire queue.

    I really did not want to get on the bad side of a group that included Loony Marvin, the Chainer of Kelackel, Vraspus Chilltooth (a fake name to be sure but actually skilled at his craft), two paladins of very different deities, and Harask Many-cloaks, who was rumored to be varying members of a massive ratfolk tribe who took turns wearing an enchanted cloak.

    They hadn¡¯t seemed too upset. Maybe not here for the guild master, then.

    Helvek was behind me, guarding the door. It was an arrangement I was used to, as well as this office. A desk of black wood, some rare material from deep in the earth, was the centerpiece. A high-backed chair on one side, several others on the other. Lining the walls were display cases and trophies, treasures found, and heads severed respectively by the guild master. I¡¯d heard stories about many of them several times during the frequent recruitment speeches. Almaseck had once claimed I was making their spirits sad by refusing so many times in a row.

    Adventuring had started as a way to get ingredients that threatened to devour the rest of my life. Not in a serious way, but it was hard to ignore how all the usual groups I worked with were regularly dropping hints about how great it would be to do this full-time. Or how each manager was sure to mention how they were recruiting for full-time positions. How there always seemed to be a Guildmaster ready to talk to me about the possibilities of joining the Guild.

    The city had ten guild masters. I¡¯d met and talked with every one of them four times apiece at a minimum over the last year. All of them had their peculiarities, but none of them I¡¯d call odious. They wanted people with talent, so it was a little flattering.

    ¡°Ah, admiring the griffon head?¡±

    I turned around to see Aaron Almaseck.

    The guild master was a short man, shorter than even my current form, and you¡¯d think him fat at first glance, round and practically poured into a suit. I¡¯d learned by my third meeting that what most would think of as fat was nothing of the sort after he¡¯d punched out a rowdy orc recruit who¡¯d gotten a little too full of himself. Dark hair in braids obscured brown eyes that were usually lively.

    When they weren¡¯t, it was a good sign to watch out.

    ¡°There¡¯s a good story attached to how I cleaved that head off of its owner,¡± he said, heading for his chair.

    I smiled genuinely. ¡°Yes, I believe I¡¯ve heard it four times already.¡±

    ¡°Well, I do like to repeat a good yarn.¡±

    ¡°This year, I should clarify.¡±

    He laughed, settling down in the chair.

    ¡°Apologies about keeping you so long, I had a few things to deal with that popped up right now. It couldn¡¯t be avoided. One of my groups went missing somewhere down deep and to the south, hunting reports of something creeping out of tunnels and going after livestock outside the city. They¡¯ve got the surface tunnels closed, but you know how it is, new ones always open. Wish I knew why.¡±

    ¡°Dwarves, likely trying to get some revenge,¡± I said.

    ¡°You might be right. But the official policy of Her Majesty, which means an official policy of the Guild, is all the dwarves who aren¡¯t citizens of the empire are gone. Anyway, there¡¯s a bounty for whatever is down there. They vanish for a week, I think nothing of it. Groups are gone for longer, even if it¡¯s a small area compared to most guild responsibilities. Once it hits three, I get worried and send another group down. They returned with a pair of arms they found. Turned to stone.¡±

    I paused. That was¡­disconcerting, if only because of what might be in the underground. ¡°A basilisk?¡±

    ¡°It certainly wasn¡¯t a sewer gator, and while it might be dwarves, I don¡¯t want to contemplate them taming a basilisk,¡± Almasek replied. ¡°City officials are already being made aware, although it¡¯s deep enough down that they¡¯ll leave it to us for now. Question: How quickly could you whip up a cure for petrification?¡±

    I frowned. ¡°The guild has alchemists, you can¡¯t tell me you haven¡¯t asked them yet.¡±

    He nodded in response, pulling a piece of paper out. ¡°I have. And most of them don¡¯t have the materials. What I am asking is, as a personal favor, do you have any materials from your very reputable stores that can help make these.¡±

    I drummed my fingers nervously. ¡°Not on me. And for in my lab¡­.well, I don¡¯t expect to find it intact when I next return.¡±

    He raised an eyebrow. ¡°Something likely to follow you down here? Problems with the law?¡±

    ¡°Probably not, and maybe,¡± I answered. ¡°I didn¡¯t start the issue with the law; honestly, they are pretty low on the list of people after me.¡±

    Almaseck grunted. ¡°You could stay down here, depending on other factors. While you were working, the groups you were attached to had some of the highest clearance rates on the boards. I need that. Young alchemists are a rarity in the underground.¡±

    I smiled politely. ¡°Most young alchemists probably think you can make money much more safely simply brewing on the surface above. No offense to the guild.¡±

    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    ¡°None taken,¡± he responded, marking something in his book. I resisted the urge to try and take a peek. ¡°I can¡¯t say I don¡¯t understand. The basilisk does make me wish the timing could work out more.¡±

    I drummed my fingers on the table. ¡°The brewing isn¡¯t the problem, it¡¯s getting access to the ingredients itself, which is fluid from the creature''s eyeballs. If whoever takes it down is careful not to damage anyone who is petrified, it¡¯s a simple matter from there.¡±

    ¡°Unfortunately, the damn thing will insist on not making it a simple matter,¡± Almaseck growled, expression tempestuous. ¡°I¡¯ve had the displeasure of fighting one. You¡¯d think the gods would have figured petrifying people with a look was enough and not make it hard to injure and damn strong.¡±

    I nodded. I¡¯d never seen one in person, but I had seen a skeleton at the Imperial Museum of Dungeonology. It figured a lizard the size of a horse could have some serious punch behind it. Maybe not enough to shatter stone on its own, but you couldn¡¯t judge something or someone¡¯s strength by how they looked.

    ¡°I do have some small way I can help,¡± I offered. ¡°There is one young alchemist who seems to consider the thrill of adventure greater than the safety of a lab.¡±

    Almaseck grunted and considered me for a few seconds. Realizing he wouldn¡¯t directly ask me, I continued.

    ¡°Miss Harie, Mr. Halmon''s apprentice, asked me if I could get her into the guild or at least talk to you about the possibility.¡±

    Almaseck groaned in response, closing his eyes for several seconds before they snapped back open.

    ¡°I can¡¯t imagine you are under any illusions this is the first time she¡¯s asked about this, on her own or through intermediaries,¡± he told me.

    ¡°I figured as much,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m guessing Mr. Halmon is the issue?¡±

    ¡°Addrias Halmon is one of the most paranoid and vindictive people I know,¡± Almaseck said. ¡°Honestly, your insistence on being so polite all the time is probably the only reason he hasn¡¯t shot at you yet. Not because he likes you, but because I hope he¡¯s on his last legs with the Guild and needs a believable reason.¡±

    My grin became much less genuine as I processed that. ¡°Hope? I thought the guild had to approve and manage all the suppliers down here. Do you not manage that?¡±

    ¡°I manage that for close to all of them,¡± Almaseck said in a disgruntled tone. ¡°I can¡¯t say who Halmon has in his pockets, but they are further up the food chain than myself. So I¡¯m not exactly enthused about taking on one of his current apprentices and risk drawing his ire. So for right now, the answer to the young lady is no.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯ll be disappointed, but I suppose we all learn the taste of that sooner or later,¡± I replied.

    Well, I¡¯d have to remember all of this for later. I¡¯d never have guessed the sketchy gnome was that well-connected or had that much influence, but I supposed that¡¯s why he acted the way he did. Distract your mark from your intentions.

    ¡°I do have an issue I could use some answers on. Related to my own troubles. It¡¯s a little bit of a stretch, but are you acquainted with the gang known as the Purebloods?¡±

    Almasek¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°I am. I dealt with them a few times, and none of them were pleasant. You¡¯ve met them?¡±

    ¡°Unfortunately, yes. They attacked me because I was trying to aid¡­well, a member of the Black Flame.¡±

    Almaseck grunted noncommittally. ¡°That¡¯s none of my business. I can tell you that most of my dealings with those are usually gang members trying to get some cash on the side or working a job through the guild. Not this lot, though. Came right down, informed me if I wanted to operate, I¡¯d need to stop hiring non-humans.¡±

    ¡°That seems like a bit of an overreach,¡± I said. ¡°They leaned on the entire guild or just you?¡±

    ¡°Me and every human guild master. And you¡¯re right on the overreach part. I settled for letting Helvek work the one that came here over since the asshole decided to insult Helvek to his face. Travult settled for letting them go with a firm no. Carsacci apparently let her people know it was open season till they got out of the underground.¡±

    Almaseck turned to the window overlooking the street, snorting derisively. ¡°Fucking three-fourths of the guild is non-human, and it¡¯s hardly a secret. They were insane to even make the attempt.¡±

    ¡°They might not be that insane,¡± I said. ¡°The number of guild members who aren¡¯t human might be the point. You are one of the riskiest but fastest ways to become someone in the empire without race being a major factor.¡±

    ¡°They did hint they had ties to some of the bigger pro-human movements. Wouldn¡¯t shock me if they had some kind of connection, although no one would stand up for them publicly. You said you tangled with them because of the Black Flame?¡±

    ¡°They were trying to rip a box off of him,¡± I confirmed.

    ¡°Probably just gang business. I did a little looking on the side myself, when they aren¡¯t intimidating non-humans or checking each other for red hairs, they¡¯re like any other gang.¡±

    I chuckled at the idea of them going through each other''s hair looking for strands. ¡°Seeing if they have any Keltish blood? Do they check their skin color as well, make sure it¡¯s within the acceptable range?¡±

    ¡°Maybe. Probably. You really that interested?¡±

    I shook my head. ¡°Not really. Just amused. They already set themselves quite the task of going after every non-human in the empire, then they want to add other humans to the mix as well? You think they¡¯d pick their battles.¡±

    ¡°The smart ones aren¡¯t on the streets selling wiz and khaliff to people in dark alleys when they espouse their ideas.¡±

    He had a point. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you have any concrete information? Known members, locations, anything like that?¡±

    Almaseck considered me for a moment before speaking. ¡°Some. Not much. I¡¯ll have Helvek collect it before you leave. We do have one other matter to discuss.¡±

    I nodded. ¡°Helvek said this was urgent. And the Basilisk most alchemists could help you with. Why did you need to speak to me, Guildmaster?¡±

    ¡°Yesterday I was visited both by the City Watch and Mr. Voltar, the greatest detective of the empire. Separate times, same subject. Files on a freelance alchemist often employed out of my guild.¡± Helvasek considered me, steepling his fingers. ¡°Why are they so interested in you, Falara?¡±

    I didn¡¯t move my head but I suddenly was much more aware of Helvek¡¯s silent presence a foot behind me.

    Mouth dry, I answered. ¡°Well, I mentioned the Black Flame, Mr. Almasek, they likely-¡°

    ¡°If they were just trying to find out information on that they wouldn¡¯t have been trying to find out what adventuring parties you¡¯ve been a part of over the last two years. Unless you can think of how that¡¯s relevant to your encounter with the Black Flame and Purebloods?¡±

    ¡°I honestly can¡¯t,¡± I said. Best not to say anything too rash in here. My blood might as well be ice. This could not be a simple coincidence at this point, but how did that damn Voltar know?

    ¡°Perhaps if they want to build a case of some kind against me, they¡¯re looking into some of the connections I¡¯ve cultivated-¡±

    ¡°Halmon,¡± Alamsek cut me off dourly. ¡°Why does every alchemist end up dealing with that graverobber Falara? It¡¯s bad enough he¡¯s already come up once in my life today. I prefer keeping that as the maximum.¡±

    ¡°He is very good at what he does,¡± I admitted. ¡°Honestly, I¡¯d say at least in terms of finding corpses to secure ingredients from, I suspect Necromancy. Or something related to death, he seems to know when everything dies down here. And since he clearly has connections high in the guild.¡±

    Almaseck snorted. ¡°I see your point. Well, they¡¯ll probably have visited him as well.¡±

    ¡°Most assuredly so,¡± I agreed. And if they had, Halmon hadn¡¯t hinted it to me during our conversation. It¡¯s not like the gnome owed me anything, but hiding it was a slap in the face.

    ¡°Why are they so interested, Katheryn?¡± He asked.

    The bluntness of it was like an old fish to the face in effect. Had he ever called me by my assumed first name before? I couldn¡¯t remember. No one called me Katheryn. I made sure of it on purpose.

    ¡°It¡¯s a personal matter,¡± I answered briskly. ¡°I appreciate the concern, but it doesn¡¯t concern the guild, so-¡±

    ¡°The guild is already involved,¡± he said in a voice filled with steel. Not loud, but each word felt like a hammer to my head. ¡°Every guildmaster in the city has been approached by people about your activities in their section of the city. Not all by the Watch and Voltar. What did you do?¡±

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t say-¡±

    ¡°Couldn¡¯t or won''t?¡±

    My mouth snapped shut. Did he have a truthteller hidden here somewhere? I hadn¡¯t eaten or drank anything down here, but a mage of the right talents could cast a spell. With what I¡¯d done to myself, I wouldn¡¯t be able to tell until it was reversed.

    At least now I knew what other factors governed my staying here.

    Almaseck considered me some more, leaning forward in his chair. My hands tensed. His eyes were cold. It felt like staring down a predator.

    ¡°You are a free contractor. Independent from the Guild. There¡¯s very little I can do to pressure you into telling me why they are so interested, Katheryn. With some of the hints Voltar dropped, I don¡¯t think pressuring you would do either of us favors.¡±

    ¡°More than you could possibly guess,¡± I said. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t like what would come out.¡±

    It was supposed to be a jest, but before it left my lips, I¡¯d twisted it into something darker without meaning to.

    Behind me, I could feel Helvek tense, but Almaseck didn¡¯t so much as twitch.

    ¡°I take it that wasn¡¯t a threat?¡± He asked me quietly. The implication of what would happen if I said yes was plain. A dozen guild members, well-respected and experienced, just happened not to be doing anything today right outside his office.

    How much had Voltar told him?

    I shook my head. I didn¡¯t trust myself to speak. The silence stretched until some words made their way out. ¡°I didn¡¯t intend to make one. I don¡¯t want us to be enemies, Mr. Almasek.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s interesting you think we¡¯d be enemies, Katheryn,¡± he said, getting up from his desk. ¡°Until this matter is resolved, and until I¡¯m given some concrete information about what makes the imperial government so interested in you, you are considered persona non grata to the guild and all areas it manages. You know the way out.¡±

 Chapter 18 - Logs for a Fire

    Kalasyp was going to be furious.

    It¡¯s all that echoed in my mind as I walked the street. It shouldn¡¯t. On the list of things that had gone wrong, not fulfilling my word to Kalasyp was far, far down.

    Could he blame me? It¡¯s not like I¡¯d planned this morning to be banned from the guild and the underground settlements they controlled. I couldn¡¯t have even guessed the guildhall meeting would have happened.

    Helvek had been very polite but very insistent about me immediately leaving. I¡¯d been walked to the front gates and left outside while they ground shut. Joe Jebediah had also been very polite about me moving away from it before anyone needing to enter came along.

    Walking along empty tunnels traveling out of the underground, had been a blur. My mind had been in another place. Another gate. Another banishment. Another march by someone there, others watching. Another sending away, never to return.

    There were differences. I respected Helvek, even liked him, but he was simply doing his job. There was no betrayal in that. Nothing near the same as when my mother and I had been cast out from the family home.

    There were superficial similarities. Not enough to explain why I felt a dull ache too similar to a stab wound in my gut.

    I¡¯d never considered the guild a home, and I had barely considered it an option. It was a means to an end, a place to mingle, get ingredients, and enjoy conversation. To occasionally feel flattered by the recruitment attempts. I¡¯d never valued it.

    Never take anything for granted, Malvia. It¡¯s how they trick you. They make you content with scraps, thinking the gifts will last forever. Never believe anything given is there forever. There¡¯s always someone waiting to take it away. You need to always put in the work to prevent that from happening.

    I shivered at the memory and picked up the pace, hoping that focusing on walking would banish that back where it came from.

    Some of those remembered words were true. Not all of them, but enough of them held truth.

    I did my best to remove the evidence of tears. Katheryn Falara did not value the guild. Neither did Malvia Harrow. I was not making another mask. This one was too close to fragmenting as it stood.

    You might think the biggest struggle with masks is maintaining it all the time, all the mundane little details repeated repeatedly. What will be your greatest test will be when pressure is applied, because then the temptation to let the person behind the mask take over will rise.

    I sighed, considering where I was. I¡¯d reemerged from a side tunnel near the Hell¡¯s Own. It might be worth stopping there, just for something to take the edge off. I could hardly say I had demands on my time now. I could not supply Kalasyp¡¯s customers except for what alchemical supplies might be in my own stocks. Both those and my regular customers were dependent on those stocks not being destroyed, which would mean checking first my own lab and then my apartment.

    It''s probably best done sober. Sighing, I looked at the end of the street where the tavern stood, then headed in the opposite direction. Time to salvage the rest of my day.

    ***

    I looked over the wreckage of my lab.

    Someone had ripped both of the doors off at the hinges. Inside, smashed glass, burnt ingredients, smashed-apart piping, and shredded herbs all coated the floor. They hadn¡¯t even bothered stealing anything, instead destroying it all.

    What had I done to earn this kind of enmity?

    A stupid question when I thought about it a little more. If this was the work of the Pure Bloods, I¡¯d help cut down members of their gang. If it were Versalicci, I¡¯d escaped him. That would rank higher than stealing from his coffers on the way out. If I ever rejoined his ranks, he¡¯d consider the stolen money a loan to be repaid, just as temporary as our parting.

    Gods, I could recall the smug condescension of his voice perfectly, even after five years.

    I¡¯d gotten here a few minutes ago to an unusual sight. The owner of the building was here for the first time in four months. In two years, Richard Marlow hadn¡¯t changed. He was still wearing a tattered and worn suit with a roughly trimmed goatee. A couple of new scars, although they didn¡¯t look deep or long. He might have put them there himself. I¡¯d seen people more intelligent than him do it in an attempt to look more intimidating. They were morons, usually. He¡¯d also filed his horns to pointed ends and made them even more fragile with the amount of bone he¡¯d removed.

    He was busy going off on a tirade about the costs of repair and how much I would owe him. He¡¯d not paused for breath since I met him at the front, climbed the stairs and finally arrived at my wrecked lab.

    Next to him was a hired leg-breaker, looking about as fond of Marlow as I was, but she wouldn¡¯t fail to step in. She didn¡¯t bear any gang symbols, but she was a head taller than me, well-muscled, and also had a steel club in her hands that could probably crack right through my horns. I hadn¡¯t risked touching her to check, but probably Biosculpted in parts. The muscle had some signs of that not-quite-natural look from the less professional sculpting. It was not distributed naturally and was not balanced properly. She¡¯d probably not gained it from actual exercise.

    Also, she was not someone to provoke if I wanted to keep my brains inside my head.

    ¡°You¡¯ll be paying for this,¡± Richard shrieked, kicking a half-broken beaker, sending more broken glass flying across the room. ¡°This place is ruined, and the costs to repair it alone are more than the rent you¡¯ve paid-¡±

    ¡°It is not,¡± I said as calmly as I could manage. Not as calmly as I¡¯d wanted. The hired muscle¡¯s hands went for her club. ¡°Not at the rates you charge. Which, some of which I believe was supposed to be for security?¡±

    He glared at me, mouth shut. It was true the contract said that, but he¡¯d never provided any, of course. You were simply expected to provide it yourself in return for the landlord not prying into your business.

    I¡¯d done what I felt was sufficient. It clearly hadn¡¯t been. The sleep spell had been part of my defense, but most of my protection had been too little of notice to be worth bothering. Don¡¯t irritate anyone, stay away from the big power players, pay for mother¡¯s hospital, and work towards maybe eventually having enough money to move out of this quarter.

    I also didn''t want to melt anyone with the more deadly security measures I could have installed. That might have been too kind a choice in hindsight.

    ¡°Either you pay for the repairs, or you don¡¯t rent out of this place again!¡± Richard yelled, having found his voice again.

    I looked at the remnants of my lab with as much clinical detachments as I could. Smashed glassware. Destroyed ingredients. Months of work and pay ruined overnight. I could replace some of this, but it would take time.

    ¡°Deal,¡± I said.

    I¡¯d already turned and made it a few steps towards the exit when Richard found his voice again. ¡°What?¡±

    His hired muscle was already moving towards me. Sighing, I drew my flintlock, turning around and pointing it at her in a single fluid motion. They both halted.

    I wasn¡¯t going to shoot either of them. Gods and devils, that would be even more trouble, but I wasn¡¯t going to browbeat by this cheap little shit either.

    ¡°Deal,¡± I repeated. ¡°Richard, I¡¯ll be frank because it¡¯s been an extremely tiring day. I have two criminal gangs after me, one of whom has smashed up my lab, both of whom probably know where I live. I am not renting this place again. You have a deposit for another three months, keep it. I didn¡¯t provoke this mess, and any imperial magistrate isn¡¯t going to care either way. You can try taking me to court, and we can quibble over the contract until your hair has gone grey, or we can leave it at that, and you can satisfy yourself on the money you¡¯ve gouged out of me these past two years.¡±

    ¡°Be careful with your tone,¡± he warned me, scowl deepening. ¡°I know people Falara. I can make your life very difficult if I want to.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s nice,¡± I replied. ¡°I know people too, but you should consider the fact that I am probably your least important customer by a fair margin, and everyone else who rents from you is probably wondering how much their property will get protected by you.¡±

    His eyes narrowed, but he gestured to his muscle who backed down. I lowered my pistol.

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    ¡°Don¡¯t ever come here again,¡± he threatened quietly.

    ¡°I don¡¯t plan on it,¡± I replied, turning around and heading down the stairs.

    I put my pistol away, sighing. Katheryn Falara didn¡¯t pull pistols on people when words would suffice. Or at least she shouldn¡¯t. I could do better than this.

    Neither Richard nor his legbreaker had followed me. Good. I¡¯d burned a bridge there but not sufficiently that either would come after me. Not now, anyway. I wouldn¡¯t put it past Richard to send some hired thugs to my apartment.

    I would be burning bridges many more times in the coming weeks. All of this was far too much. Voltar, the Watch, the well-dressed stranger, two noble houses, the Guild, the Pure-bloods, and finally, the Black Flame all swirling about, catching me like a piece of flotsam in their wake. I could only begin to guess at the game being played. Things had been planned around me, meant to occur and catch me in the center of this scheme. The fact that the well-dressed stranger had left the original tip and then later broke into my lab only confirmed it.

    Well, perhaps not the center, but I was being manipulated.

    Thinking about it, that was the most dangerous thread of them all. I¡¯d gotten the tip from Halmon before the poisonings had even started. The well-dressed stranger would be connected to them, then. But what did they gain out of it? Why try to seize the cures after I¡¯d distributed two? Was he connected to Montague in some way?

    I snorted, dismissing that entire train of thought. I didn¡¯t even know for sure if Halmon¡¯s source for the wyvern¡¯s corpse was the same as the person who¡¯d broken into my lab. Besides, I shouldn¡¯t be wasting time thinking about it. The proper solution to this was to escape.

    I¡¯d need to talk to Tolman and Arsene. The latter wasn¡¯t likely to be very cooperative and would probably blame me for the situation. He might not even be wrong for doing so. However, it was perhaps time for the three of us to disappear once again. I¡¯d need to finish things up with Montague first, which would hopefully provide the liquid funds to do it. Maybe get out of the city entirely. Infernals got treated worse in other parts of the empire, but fewer people knew us out there.

    ***

    Walking towards my apartment, I found the traffic slowing. It was not a shock, heading towards the afternoon, especially considering how many were on foot, but things were slowing to a halt. Not only that, but people heading in the other direction looked agitated, muttering darkly amongst themselves. I caught snippets of conversation in between discussions about getting weapons. A march of some kind?

    I heard it long before I could see it, a chant that only grew in intensity and volume the closer I got, echoing through the quarter.

    ¡°Hell¡¯s Get belong in Hell! Hell¡¯s Get belong in Hell!¡±

    Frowning, I moved through the crowd, eventually finding a low enough building with a waterpipe attached. Being out of practice, it took me nearly half a minute to climb onto the rooftop. My muscles ached when I made it, as well. Out of practice, and in this body, definitely out of shape.

    Near twenty other Infernals were up there, most bearing gang signs. I chose a spot not close to any of them along the roof''s edge. No one bothered asking me what I was doing up here. Hell, members of rival gangs were within feet of each other and did not raise a fuss. The same member of the Black Flame who had tried to fetch me for Versalicci earlier was only a few feet away, but after a forced nod of acknowledgment turned her attention to the street.

    We were all occupied with something much bigger.

    Humans marched across Salenbury Avenue, one of the main thoroughfares of the Infernal Quarter. Most waved placards, and all chanted. A seething mass of humanity, and specifically humanity. Occasionally, I spotted a halfling, gnome, or elf, but only maybe one out of every twenty. Those who didn¡¯t chant were yelling at Infernals, their screaming forming into an indecipherable mess of yelling, over which the central chanting still rose.

    The Watch was here, trying to set a cordon along the street, but they were failing. Groups of Watch moved up and down the street, trying to intercept any potential problem spots as they happened.

    My lips quirked as I spotted a dwarf officer down below. I¡¯d only spotted her briefly; she wore a different haircut than before, and she had less metal in her face, but it was my neighbor from my brief stay in the Coffin.

    Infernals had gathered along the sides of the street, wary eyes on the marchers. No weapons were displayed openly at the moment, even as more gathered on the sides of the streets. Hopefully, no weapons would be displayed, with the more reckless members being kept in check by those with some sense.

    I hoped no one down there had illusions about what would occur if Infernals openly brawled with whoever these marchers were. A second Understreet, except not just limited to the underground.

    That understanding would only put a limit till this blew up of course. My sympathies were on the Watch with this one, as strange as that was. I¡¯d lived through one Understreet, and that had bled anger from me. Even if this group was routed, it would be their victory at the end of the day.

    Of course, there was a difference between knowing that and accepting it. My teeth ground as I watched the marchers continue, some of them carrying torches and others bricks. More worrying were the weapons: swords and pikes, old favorites of the rebels that had broken the back of Her Profane Majesty. No guns, at least none visibly carried. Were they testing to see how much the Watch would allow?

    A voice boomed somewhere further down the street, amplified by magic. Male and full of the fire and conviction only zealotry could bring.

    ¡°See how these things live in a den of their own filth and depravity! They are turning our city into their own home, that place of sin and vice revered by all their kind! We must reclaim it before they finish what their foul forefathers began and sink our city into the depths of hell!¡±

    Whistles blew from the opposite direction. Boots slapped the pavement as the Watch swarmed where a knot of the marchers and Infernals fought. The Watch separated both sides, Infernals being slapped in irons quickly. Not so with the Marchers, who quickly disappeared into the mass of humanity; others surged forward to form a wall against the Watch. A few of the officers tried, getting into a yelling match with individual members to no avail.

    Not a good move on the part of the marchers. Watch sympathies might be with them, but defiance of their authority might tip the scales.

    The zealot leading this talked over all of it, and the restlessness of everyone only rose as he continued.

    ¡°They have plotted this before, and they will plot it again! The officials of this city hide much from you, of how far their tendrils reached into it! They will stretch again, given the chance, which is why we must be vigilant, brothers and sisters!¡±

    I froze, turning to look at where the voice echoed from. Halspus Cathedral? If you wanted to talk without worrying about interruption from an Infernal, atop those ruins worked. But that last bit was worrying. This might be something other than some zealot to know about the causes of Understreet.

    Speeches like this kind weren¡¯t unusual. This wasn¡¯t even near the tenth worst thing I¡¯d heard from some of my own relatives, let alone random people in the street. What was different was the scale. How many people were marching here? Hundreds, at least, maybe thousands.

    Tensions were never good and had been bad before, but a march through the center of the Infernal Quarter was unprecedented, at least in my memory. And those hints about Understreet were very disturbing. Most everyone had some understanding of what had happened in Understreet, but the why had been well-hidden. Was this one in the know, or simply shooting in the dark? Frowning, I considered the marchers. Most of them looked like¡­well, average citizens. None of whom I¡¯d guess to be of the same mold as the Pure Blood thugs I¡¯d encountered. Still, that group¡¯s recent pushing on the Delver guilds couldn¡¯t be a coincidence.

    This¡­didn¡¯t feel right. Tensions were never good, but there should have been rumblings of this long before it occurred. The fact the Watch, whose ears were usually so close to the ground, were so clearly unprepared for the scale pointed to something more than the usual animosity.

    I shook my head, forcing those thoughts from my mind. Not my concern. Neither was this, at least not immediately. My apartment was on this side of Brimant Street, and I wasn¡¯t waiting for this to spark a riot. I headed for the pipe.

    ¡°Falara!¡± A voice called. I turned around, frowning at the Black Flame member who¡¯d followed me to the pipe.

    ¡°I think I made my preferences clear earlier today,¡± I said. ¡°And for the record, I am not the Lady in Red, despite the resemblance. I will talk to Mr. Versalicci later, at a time of my choosing. Oh, and it is Miss Falara. We are not friends.¡±

    She raised her hands placatingly. ¡°Mr. Versalicci said you¡¯ll find your way to him eventually, although his patience has its limits. He did want to pass a message along, though.¡±

    ¡°That message being?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Your trip tomorrow, the one you have planned? Do not do it. It doesn¡¯t serve a purpose and if you cared about the person on the other side, you wouldn¡¯t do it.¡±

    ¡°Ah,¡± I said. ¡°That was the entire message?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± she replied warily. For some reason, her hands were near the saber belted to her waist. A few others on the rooftop were also giving me strange looks. I turned my stare on them even as pain sprouted behind my eyes.

    ¡°Can you take a message back to him in return?¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡± she said hesitantly. My eyes burned now, and I forced them to keep open even as something began to well in them.

    ¡°If he sticks his nose in that affair again, I will make sure he hurts for it, even if I have to use myself as the fuel to set him alight. And if that¡¯s too vague for him, he gave me the tools I¡¯ll use. I doubt the Watch will be pleased to see some of them being used and will have some very pointed questions about where I got them. Good day.¡±

    I was down the water pipe before she could formulate a reply. The pain in my eyes faded as something wet traveled from them to my cheeks. I pressed the fingers of my glove against them, pulled it back to find it streaked red. Damnations.

    I took a few moments to clear all the traces of that away before continuing towards my apartment.

    As I neared my apartment, I saw someone in a cloak begin to move toward me from one of the alleys. Sighing, I produced a knife from one of my sleeves and then rushed forward, one hand pushing them against the wall while the other pressed the knife¡¯s blade tightly against their throat.

    I wasn¡¯t going to kill them, but a knife against the throat would go a long way to securing some cooperation-

    ¡°Wait, don¡¯t-¡± the bundle of rags yelled, and his face came into view.

    ¡°Varrow?¡± I asked, immediately letting go of him.

    ¡°You trying to scare me to death?¡± He hissed, pulling further back.

    ¡°Sorry, I shouldn¡¯t have done that.¡± I quickly put the knife back. ¡°You startled me, is all. Why are you lurking outside my building? Did the medicine not help?¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Confusion flashed for a brief second across his face. ¡°No, not that. I came to warn you, that people broke into your apartment, humans. One of them¡¯s still up there, looking through it. Fancily dressed looking fellow, top hat.¡±

    Oh. Oh.

    ¡°Is he?¡± I said politely, the knife vanishing up my sleeve once again. ¡°Well, I suppose I must say hello to my new guest. Tell me, was he here before this most recent circus came into town?¡±

    Varrow looked at my sleeve curiously. Crap. He¡¯d taught me that trick.

    ¡°Mr. Varrow,¡± I said, tone insistent. ¡°Was this human here before the group outside was?¡±

    That snapped him out of it. ¡°Can¡¯t say for sure. It looks like whoever broke into your apartment did it earlier, but no idea how much earlier. These marchers just got here, but-¡±

    ¡°They could have very easily started doing other things in the quarter earlier,¡± I finished for him. ¡°Well, I suppose it¡¯s best to go say hello.¡±

    And unless I got a damned good explanation, to force one out of him.

 Chapter 19 - The Teapot Survived

    The stairs creaked beneath my feet, some of them shifting under my weight. The half-hearted thought of seeing these fixed rose up again. There was no real chance of them ever being fixed. I didn¡¯t have the time or money, the landlady could not care less about maintenance, and my fellow tenants didn¡¯t consider it something to fret over. The moment people¡¯s hooves or feet started going through boards, then we might collectively do something.

    Some of my neighbors gathered in the hall, worriedly whispering to each other. One of them glanced back, spotting me. Spotting the weapons I held. They quickly scattered, giving me a clear path to my apartment.

    My door had never been the most impressive barrier. A cheap-four paneled door, its main use was absorbing a few blows, enough for me to wake up and realize someone was attempting to break it down.

    It was now lying crumpled against a wall, ripped from the hinges. Framed in the open doorway was the intruder.

    A man in a top hat and morning coat stood among the wreckage, idly examining my teapot. Tall, with broad shoulders, clean-shaven, a fox-like face, and long brown hair.

    He¡¯d also looked up, spotting me stalking down the hallway with saber in hand. A disarming grin sprouted on his face.

    ¡°Well, while I can hardly claim this is the first time I¡¯ve been caught in a lady¡¯s room, this is the first time it was the lady doing the catching-¡±

    I lunged forward at the intruder.

    One benefit of compressing myself. I hadn¡¯t gotten rid of the extra mass I used to have, just compressed it, so I hit a lot harder than most people expected. The trade-off was worth the occasional crack from Tolman about my weight.

    I and the intruder both went down, grappling with each other. After a few seconds of scrambling, I had the edge of my saber under his chin, lightly pressed against his throat. Staring down at a grin that hadn¡¯t faded a bit.

    That had been remarkably easy with how muscled this one was. Definitely not a grappler of any kind.

    Both of us remained silent while I looked at the intruder¡¯s clothes. Metal threads refused to show up in his waistcoat or morning coat, and his shirt was a little puffy but not embroidered. Hardly evidence he wasn¡¯t the intruder from the lab, but maybe signs I shouldn¡¯t assume he was that person.

    His grin hadn¡¯t faded at all. ¡°Well, this is a rather compromising position. I¡¯ll have you know that I¡¯m not that kind of man. I require at least one dinner first, at a restaurant of my choosing, with wine-¡±

    I pushed on the saber, not enough to break his skin, but enough to make him stop talking.

    ¡°Enough chatter, stranger,¡± I told him. ¡°I¡¯ll apologize for my rudeness later if this is a misunderstanding. Your name and why you are in my apartment in the next thirty seconds, or we¡¯ll see how well you can seduce the ladies with some severed vocal cords.¡±

    The expression on his face barely changed. Enough to let me know something had shifted, but unless this one was very good at hiding his emotions, he was not afraid of me at all. Disturbing with a saber at his throat. Who was this? From the clothing, I was inclined to believe the intruder at my labs, but that was just an assumption.

    ¡°You¡¯re bleeding on me,¡± he said, and there were drops of blood staining his jacket. ¡°Could you please stop?¡±

    I¡¯d wiped as much blood as I could out of my eyes before coming here, but apparently, they¡¯d started up again. I needed to find a way to quiet the damn Imp before it woke up even more. I wasn¡¯t going to convince anyone I was one of the people in the city holding a license to practice Diabolism. Bleeding from the eyes was hardly a sign of it, but it was a sign the Imp was stirring.

    ¡°Name first,¡± I insisted. Let him wallow in the ruining of his clothes. He at least seemed to care about that, unlike the blade pressed against his throat.

    He sighed, rolling his eyes dramatically. ¡°I am Gregory Montague, fourth son of Lord Bartholemew Montague, who is the reason I¡¯m here. If you want anything more, I do insist you let me up.¡±

    I frowned. That was plausible but hardly something I was going to believe in.

    ¡°Please,¡± he added as an afterthought.

    I gave the human a closer look. At first glance, he looked nothing like Lord Montague; however, the eyes¡­.were absolutely nothing alike. The facial structure was a little similar, and if I squinted, the noses might have a passing familiarity.

    ¡°You are Gregory Montague? Nobility rooting through my apartment like a scavenger picking flesh off of a corpse? You expect me to believe that?¡±

    His grin only seemed to grow. ¡°What a delightful metaphor, and for your information, I¡¯ve been informed I barely count as a noble. But if you want proof, I¡¯m afraid that can only be found on my father¡¯s estate. I neglected to bring some with me.¡±

    ¡°No signet ring?¡± I asked. ¡°You really expect me to believe you just happened to forget one?¡±

    ¡°Those require the permission of the head of the family to wear in public,¡± he explained while trying to get a hand toward the guard of my saber. A bit more pressure on his neck cut that off. ¡°My father has currently decided to let me forgo mine as punishment for, well¡­.that¡¯s not really any of your business.¡±

    ¡°At the bare minimum, you entered my residence without permission and have probably been rummaging through my possessions. Right now, everything about you is my business. Why is there no signet ring?¡±

    The stranger sighed. ¡°I slept with the Lady Basare. And got caught. Right around the wedding of her and Lord Mosley. At the most inconvenient time, actually.¡±

    I was too curious not to ask. ¡°Just before?¡±

    ¡°Two hours after they exchanged vows. As you can imagine, there was quite a scandal, and only my breaking of Lord Mosley¡¯s arm in a duel has prevented any more ¡®deserved consequences¡¯ as my father puts it.¡±

    Well, this answered much of why Lord Montague had considered setting me up with Gregory as the lesser of two evils.

    ¡°I suppose I can take your word on this for now,¡± I said, getting off of him. ¡°Truth be told, there¡¯s very little of your father in your face. Apologies if I was perhaps a bit overzealous in not believing you.¡±

    The cocky cheer in his voice was drained a bit now. ¡°You aren¡¯t the first to notice,¡± he said, the look in his eyes colder.

    Ah. His lordship had tried to set me up with someone he either knew or suspected was a bastard. Maybe? I¡¯d already made a false assumption so far in this conversation.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter to me. What does matter is this my lord, what are you doing in my apartment? If you were not the one who broke down my door?¡±

    Gregory Montague¡¯s expression sobered entirely. ¡°My brother needs the cure. Now. I came to retrieve it, only to find you gone, the apartment ransacked, and your neighbors very unhelpful as to where your whereabouts might be. So I decided to simply wait and hope whoever came along would be more helpful.¡±

    A faint grin crept onto my face. I wasn¡¯t any great friend to any of my neighbors, but some things trumped how close you were. Strange humans coming into the quarter looking for an Infernal? Not a bit of help.

    Unless they had money of course, but that was a different matter.

    Gregory Montague considered me, his expression turned a little worried. ¡°Just to make sure, you are Katheryn Falara?¡±

    ¡°I am she, alchemist extraordinaire and owner of¡­this,¡± I said, gesturing to the ruin all around us. ¡°Does your father remember what I told him about using the cure too early? It¡¯s not a pleasant thing to administer to one not ready for it. It would be very easy for it to kill him.¡±

    Gregory Montague frowned. ¡°I don¡¯t trust my father on very many things, Miss Falara. I do trust him on my brother¡¯s health.¡±

    I sighed. It sounded like a house call was called for. Or at least sending the cure with him. ¡°I¡¯m assuming that¡¯s the sole reason you are here, then?¡±

    ¡°My father said that getting the cure is only part of why I¡¯m here. For the rest, he said, ¡®She¡¯ll know why I sent you, and she¡¯s the only one who needs to know¡¯. Which is a little concerning. I¡¯m not about to go into your stew or something, am I?¡±

    ¡°Not to worry, my lord,¡± I answered. ¡°Far too little fat on your bones for my taste, and muscle tends to stick in my teeth.¡±

    He chuckled. ¡°Then I¡¯m at a bit of a loss then? Why specifically did my father send me? While I¡¯ve found our encounter so far fascinating-¡±

    ¡°Fascinating?¡± I raised an eyebrow. ¡°I put a sword to your throat.¡±

    ¡°And that alone will make an excellent conversation piece for the next half year, at which point it¡¯ll probably have worn out its welcome,¡± Gregory Montague replied. ¡°But I have other things planned today, yet Father insisted I come to get the cure.¡±

    I cocked my head, eyeing his lordship. Warm green eyes stared back at me evenly, cheer in them as he settled against my shattered doorframe. He stood tall, about as tall as I had been as Malvia, which meant a full head taller than me right now. Despite the fox-like cast of his face, the high cheekbones, sharp eyebrows, there was nothing of a predator in his smile, just simple cheer which dragged my gaze back to his warm eyes.

    One of those warm green eyes winked at me.

    ¡°While I¡¯m very flattered,¡± he said. ¡°This might not be the best place?¡±

    ¡°Your father suggested I lower my price in return for offering me dates with you and possibly your hand in marriage. Although I imagine if he ever even considered it, he would need me to turn human first.¡±

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    Gregory Montague shuddered, an expression of revulsion across that pricked at me.

    ¡°I¡¯m as unenthused as you are,¡± I said as drily as I could manage.

    ¡°Oh,¡± he said, suddenly looking abashed. ¡°My reaction wasn¡¯t because of that. I just don¡¯t like the idea of being tied down. Father has been trying to marry me off for years. He thinks he can force me to settle down, or at least find a noble family willing to take on the task of making me respectable. I doubt he was serious about the offer.¡±

    Every second sounded more and more like a reinforcement of my decision not to agree to date Gregory Montague. I moved across the room, heading towards my bedroom, and startled the young noble.

    ¡°Where are you going?¡±

    I moved through the door to my bedroom, shutting it swiftly before the blue blood could follow me through it.

    ¡°Finding which of my drawers you and others have been through while I was out. Do grant me some measure of privacy, please.¡±

    ¡°I would never do that,¡± Montague said in a tone far too joking for my tastes. ¡°I restrain that kind of activity for fellow nobility.¡±

    That remark got my one intact chair in the room hurriedly jammed underneath the doorknob in response.

    The truth was what I wanted to check most was my hidden boxes under the floorboard, but I could hardly do that with him here. And I could hardly tell a nobleman and the son of a client to get the hell out of my apartment. Keeping him out of my bedroom was hopefully something even he wouldn¡¯t challenge.

    Alternatively, I could drug him, drag him to his father¡¯s estate, and leave him with a strongly worded letter about trying to steal goods without payment. That had its own appeal. Potentially completely ruin my relationship with his father.

    Idle fantasies of drugging the noble in my apartment to the gills, I turned my attention to my bedroom.

    They¡¯d ransacked all the doors, the contents tossed all around the room. Same with the furniture, all of which had been roughly handled, but no one had smashed it apart looking for hidden compartments.

    Huzzah for small favors, although a fair bit of it had fallen apart just from being roughly searched. That or I¡¯d trust it even less to carry my weight than I did before. The dangers of buying cheap and second-hand furniture. I tested the edge of the bed, torn and shredded where the thin mattress had been cut open. It creaked ominously, wood cracking as soon as I sat down. I got back up.

    The mattress wasn¡¯t the only thing torn, of course. Someone had taken a blade to all of my clothes, scattered about the room. They¡¯d been thorough too, shredding everything into strips of fabric tossed all over the room. I looked at a strip of leather that could have belonged to one of my boots or a jacket, turning it over in my hand. Some of those cream-colored strips were probably what was left of my favorite blouse.

    Books lay shredded across the small shelf I¡¯d purchased, pages torn out and ripped. It all mixed on the floor into a mess. I picked up one book from the ground, half of it sloughing off in my hand as pages fluttered to the ground. Tolman and Arsene had gotten this one for me when we¡¯d made new lives. Back when me and Arsene could still be in the same room and have a civil conversation.

    This was all stuff. Not even stuff from before my life as Falara. I could replace it, with time. If anything, this was a reminder of how stupid I¡¯d been. I¡¯d gotten comfortable, forgotten what it meant to be on the streets where a bad day meant huddling underneath discarded newspapers and hoping no one else tried to claim your section of the alley.

    The door handle rattled, and from beyond the door I could hear Montague ask, ¡°Sorry, but you¡¯ve gone silent. Is everything alright in there?¡±

    I swallowed an urge to tell him to fuck off. Not something Falara could do. Not something I could afford to do to a nobleman, even a disgraced one.

    I forced myself back to the present. Gregory Montague needed to be handled. I could hardly open the boxes while he was in here.

    I pulled the chair away from the door only for the frame to fall apart in my hands, legs falling out of it. I stared blankly down at them before just dropping the rest and heading back into the other room.

    Gregory Montague was leaning against a wall, clearly not trusting anything here to support his weight. He looked up, and to my irritation, I found sympathy in his face.

    Don¡¯t offer me sympathy, you silver-spoon-fed dandy. You think I¡¯m hurting because my things got broke?

    ¡°I suppose it¡¯s useless to ask, but did anything survive whoever ransacked your place?¡±

    Breathe in, breathe out. If this was some seductive technique pushed by either him or his father, I¡¯d poison them later.

    ¡°Most everything is a loss,¡± I said. ¡°Some things might be salvageable, but just barely. Could you do me a favor?¡±

    Eyes wary, Montague nodded. I resisted the urge to sigh. Every time you asked for a favor or anything in an ambiguous manner. Sometimes with other Infernals even! I was hardly about to rip out his soul!

    ¡°Please, just move my door back into my doorway and give me some privacy for a few minutes while I try to gather my thoughts. And then I¡¯ll have your brother¡¯s cure ready for you.¡±

    Montague frowned. ¡°While I appreciate things are difficult for you, I can¡¯t exactly let you out of my sight. My brother¡¯s condition is at a point where I am not risking you-¡±

    ¡°My lord, someone has ransacked my apartment, then someone also destroyed my lab earlier, and those are only two of many things that have happened these last few days,¡± I said firmly. ¡°I want five, no ten minutes of privacy to myself, which is very inadequate, but at the end of those ten minutes, I¡¯ll fetch your brother¡¯s cure, and we can be off. If you are that worried about me flinging myself out the window, there are enough people here desperate for coin that you can pay to stand outside and make sure I don¡¯t escape. Or we can sit here. Neither of us budging. Because I¡¯m hardly going to draw out a rare antidote where anyone peering down the hall might spot where I¡¯m hiding it.¡±

    A second passed, and then two, and then Gregory Montague retreated out to the hall. The door took half a minute for him to wrench back into place, during which I contemplated my ruined little kitchen.

    Someone had gone through the closet. All the smashed glass from numerous destroyed vials remained inside there, a minor relief. If it had been out on the ground, Gregory Montague and I would have torn each other up.

    Plates and all my remaining cups had been smashed. Someone had taken a hammer to my windows, smashing the glass. Only the fact that it was midday kept this room warm.

    Somehow the tea and coffee pots had survived. My lips quirked as I picked them up. The tools of temptation, some had called them when both tea and coffee had been new. Fitting that such tools were the only of my possessions to survive.

    Enough time had passed. It was time to make a little noise to cover up opening up the floorboards.

    Being able to shed tears on command was something you learned early on the streets. When you¡¯re a young little scamp, few things were as likely to get sympathy from the watch as much as shedding some tears. They became less effective as you grew older, but still had their uses.

    I barely had to try for them.

    It helped cover up the sounds of me moving the floorboard, even as tears obscured my sight. I rubbed them out of my eyes three times as I removed the floorboards.

    Nothing lay underneath.

    I stared down at the empty alcove, the only signs of the boxes being imprinted in the dust. A dreadful keening noise filled my ears, and after a second, I realized I was making it.

    Deep breaths. Panicking wouldn¡¯t make this better, and neither would crying, although trying to focus on that didn¡¯t make the tears stop.

    A lot of this was my fault. Storing them in the floorboards could hardly be called the most secure place. My defense had been my anonymity. I should have moved them to¡­.well, I didn¡¯t have any place to move them that was more secure. I kept myself and my possessions safe by keeping my head down and not displaying anything beyond the abilities of a two-bit alchemist.

    Only I¡¯d fucked it up.

    If only to stop thinking about how screwed I was, I tried to think on who could have done this. The interested parties were the two nobles, the Pure-Bloods, the Black Flame, the City Watch, and at the end Voltar and his eternal sidekick Dawes.

    City Watch could have just searched my apartment and labs and I couldn¡¯t stop them. Did they get anything by doing that in disguise? Not really, nor did they get anything out of smashing up my lab and apartment. The Pure-Bloods I had even less knowledge on. They apparently were after me now for some reason, otherwise, they wouldn¡¯t have shown up at my lab, but the only thing they had their fingers in was the Black Flame¡¯s box.

    Speaking of the Black Flame, this fit them all too well. Versalicci ordering this, taking away my tools to make me dependent on him again? That fits both his motivations and what I knew about him. The only question there would be, why wait till now? Where had Dawes been while Voltar was visiting? Lurking about, looking for a way inside once the two of them knew I¡¯d left? Smashing things seemed not their style.

    Too many involved parties with a motive.

    Running away was out of the question. The biosculpting tools were the least problematic, merely having a cost equal to everything that had just been trashed in my lab. Outside of no longer being Katheryn Falara soon. That¡­.I needed to focus on other things. That could wait. My diabolism focus and related materials? Directly connected to my soul, so having that in someone else¡¯s hands could pose problems. My personal possessions in the third box?

    If those had been damaged, whoever had stolen them better hope I never found out.

    I could still recover them. The box with my personal possessions had a tracker in them, one I could follow to wherever they''d been taken. Given time, I could find out who had stolen from me and give them a little of pain in return.

    Someone knocked on my door, jolting me out of considering what possible affliction I¡¯d inflict on whoever had ransacked my apartment.

    ¡°My apologies, my lord, please give me a few seconds more,¡± I said, getting up from the loose floorboards. I started moving them back into position just as quietly as I¡¯d removed them.

    Why had someone tossed my room so violently, but my floorboard collection of possessions had been quietly lifted with no signs of disturbance? They¡¯d even put the floorboard back just as I¡¯d left it. Instinct said the wreckage strewn about was a distraction from that, but it made no sense. I¡¯d be checking these floorboards the first chance I got. Two parties must have searched through my apartment. Or maybe just one covering their tracks? If I had more time to look over things, maybe I could figure out a more definite answer, but Montague had probably disturbed things in here ever since his arrival.

    I was inclined to think he had nothing to do with this. Not just because Lord Montague had seemed too desperate to risk his eldest¡¯s life on the chance of finding the cure, but because only an idiot would stick around after finding the boxes. If the goal was the cure, opening the boxes would have provided more than enough blackmail material to wrench it out of my grasp.

    Speaking of the younger Montague, far longer than ten minutes had passed. At least it felt that way in here.

    I checked my face in the largest fragment of a mirror I had left. More tears than I¡¯d intended, but I finally made myself a little more presentable.

    ¡°Apologies for keeping you, Lord Montague, I realize I may have been speaking above my station earlier. I apologize. It¡¯s been a frustrating day. Please come back inside.¡±

    The door opened. If Montague was suspicious of how long I¡¯d taken, it didn¡¯t show on his face. ¡°You have the cure then?¡±

    ¡°One second,¡± I replied, heading for my sink.

    The plumbing in my apartment was very basic. A single pipe and pump led down to the city¡¯s reservoirs far below. It was not the healthiest of sources, but it was that or relying on rainwater instead. Typically, there wasn¡¯t enough rainwater.

    It had been a common fixture since the city constructed a series of reservoirs a half-century ago, so it wasn¡¯t unusual to find them. So they remained below notice.

    I slid out a section of pipe from under my sink. It remained sealed on both ends, and the metal was closed snugly¡ªperfect.

    Montague¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°A fake piece of plumbing. You were hiding my brother¡¯s cure in that?¡±

    I smiled disarmingly. ¡°Peace, Lord Montague. It worked, which is all that really matters. It worked better than what I did to hide possessions much more dear to myself.¡±

    ¡°Fair enough,¡± he conceded. ¡°I suppose you know how to separate out the doses in the right amounts?¡±

    ¡°Easily done,¡± I replied. Most of my standardized measuring equipment was smashed back at the lab, and whoever had broken into my apartment had wrecked most of what was here. But a few beakers remained by the sink. I quickly scooped them up.

    A few minutes later, I had a vial filled with the prerequisite dose. He took it, looking suspiciously between it and me.

    ¡°I¡¯m half-tempted to insist that you come with me just so we can have you on-hand if this turns out to be a fake,¡± he admitted.

    ¡°I¡¯m tempted to insist on my payment up front, but we must all make sacrifices Lord Montague.¡± It felt weird calling him the same thing as his father, but I could hardly presume to use his first name. ¡°I¡¯ll insist on coming. I want my payment for this, and I am not having this used on your brother if it will kill him. You may trust your father on this matter, but I don¡¯t.¡±

    I was so lost in thought I barely noticed the other human striding down the hall.

    This one I knew, his servant¡¯s livery in purple and white. One of Lady Karsin¡¯s servants I¡¯d met on her estate, panting and out of breath as he made his way down. Curious neighbors looked at him as he made his way down.

    There went any slim remaining chance of me living here. The gossip about what had happened to my apartment alone would drive me out.

    He got to the end, trying to catch his breath. He spotted Montague and looked shocked to find him here, while Montague looked much the same. Finally, the servant caught his breath.

    ¡°Lady Karsin needs your services immediately. Her son has fallen into an illness, and she¡¯s worried the poisoner might have struck again.¡±

 Chapter 20 - Careful Timing Required

    They¡¯d had a carriage waiting for me, which had drawn enough onlookers pulling out onto the street had been an issue.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to have no peace for the next few months, perhaps even years,¡± I observed as the carriage tried to make its way through the district. ¡°You¡¯re aware there¡¯s a march of¡­protestors going through the district?¡±

    Protestors was the diplomatic term. I didn¡¯t know how anyone else in the carriage may react to my thoughts on the marchers. There were three of us in the carriage: Gregory Montague, Lady Karsin¡¯s servant, and myself. I barely knew the servant more than I did Montague. I¡¯d been to Lady Karsin¡¯s estate twice to examine her heir and then later to deliver the cure, precisely at a time when as few people would be around as possible.

    It had been a different experience, being in a noble¡¯s estate during the night with their permission.

    Montague and the servant did know each other, based on the former¡¯s cajoling of the latter to let him into the carriage.

    ¡°We¡¯re aware,¡± the servant replied evenly. ¡°We¡¯ll be avoiding them, although getting the carriage in here to begin with was a struggle in of itself.¡±

    They should have just left the carriage on the district''s border and come to get me on foot. ¡°You said Lady Karsin is convinced her son was poisoned again?¡±

    ¡°She thinks it might be the case,¡± the servant clarified. ¡°Not Angel¡¯s Sorrow, she said, but perhaps another toxin. Lord Desmond collapsed in the middle of a public banquet hosted by Duke Beractel.¡±

    ¡°It would be too soon for Angel¡¯s Sorrow,¡± I said for the benefit of Montague. ¡°It¡¯s a slow-acting toxin. You probably noticed it with your brother; he would have first appeared to have some minor illness, but only for the effects to have built up over time. Honestly, you should have sent for a doctor or another alchemist.¡±

    ¡°Lady Karsin wanted someone who could be discreet to examine him. And also someone she knows she can trust with matters such as these.¡±

    I smiled politely, pretending to be flattered by the compliment. Internally, I was much more doubtful.

    If Desmond Karsin had collapsed publicly, there was very little hiding this. Outside of being discreet, the only advantage I had over another specialist was the Angel¡¯s Sorrow cure. Besides his public collapse, coming to get me in this fashion was also not very discreet.

    I couldn¡¯t forget that all signs pointed towards someone picking me to harvest that dead wyrm¡¯s brain. Shortly afterward, I¡¯d heard from Edwards that someone was looking for a cure to an unknown disease afflicting their heir. Had that been arranged?

    It seemed ridiculous to poison someone only to arrange for a cure to be made available immediately. Perhaps two factions? This only reinforced my desire to find a way out of this mess.

    Someone was playing a game, and I was a piece on the board.

    The servant cleared his throat. ¡°If you don¡¯t mind me asking, my lord, what were you doing there?¡±

    Gregory Montague grinned. ¡°My father sent me to seduce Miss Falara, of course.¡±

    ¡°He tried to rob me,¡± I replied flatly.

    The servant¡¯s eyes moved between the two of us as if deciding on who to believe. He ultimately chose silence, which was probably the best choice. I turned my attention to Montague instead.

    ¡°You seem remarkably calm about us heading to Lady Karsin¡¯s,¡± I told Montague. ¡°Considering that this will delay us seeing your brother?¡±

    "Well, Lady Karsin¡¯s is only a few blocks from the family estate, and since I have a dose if your business with Lady Karsin runs long, I¡¯ll just nip on down and-¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t do that,¡± I interrupted, getting a shocked look from him and the servant before I added a belated ¡°my lord.¡±

    ¡°My coming along was for the sole purpose of arguing that you should not administer the antidote,¡± I continued. ¡°You said your brother was getting worse than previously? You witnessed this yourself?¡±

    Montague frowned, his expression uneasy. ¡°I only saw Edward briefly before being sent here. Father has been restricting who could see him and for how long.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± I replied. ¡°Still, you must have seen some of your brother¡¯s current condition. How is he?¡±

    ¡°Weak, and pale. Edward seems to barely hold onto consciousness most of the time. While he keeps his food down now, he¡¯s still a prisoner in his own body. He can barely move most days.¡±

    His unease had only grown while recounting his brother¡¯s condition. It was about to grow worse.

    ¡°My lord, under no conditions should your brother have the cure yet, especially if it grows even worse.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± He snapped.

    ¡°Did your father mention the instructions I gave when we negotiated our initial deal?¡±

    He shook his head. ¡°Father didn¡¯t inform about exactly what the particulars of the deal were, as I think we had found out just a while ago.¡±

    ¡°That was just a hypothetical,¡± I said quickly, all too aware that Lady Karsin¡¯s servant was in the carriage with us. ¡°But the point is, the cure is a violent one. If one¡¯s system is weakened too far, it will kill them.¡±

    ¡°What? It¡¯s supposed to cure him, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°It does,¡± I assured him. ¡°But it is more accurate to describe it as, say¡­a battle. And battles tend to leave scars on the land.¡±

    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    ¡°I follow the logic, but my brother grows weaker every day. Letting time pass would only decrease his chance, wouldn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°He won¡¯t get weaker, not by much more,¡± I replied. ¡°If you feed him the dose now, it¡¯ll kill him, and far more violently than the poison would. Angel¡¯s Sorrow is not a particularly quick poison. The only real benefit to using it is the difficulty in curing it. The patient increasingly gets weaker, but towards the end, there will be a period when if he¡¯s treated well, he begins to recover. A last grasp for redemption, some call it.¡±

    It was the leading theory for why the patients did recover. Angel¡¯s Sorrow was the only poison derived from celestial creatures, and some believed its effects were a passing of judgment on the poisoned mortal, with a brief period to try and repent before final judgment. It also could explain the rather sudden shifts in character found in survivors of the poison.

    If it were a celestial judgment on one¡¯s sins, it would certainly explain why very few survived it.

    ¡°Follow my instructions, and he¡¯ll build up his strength again, enough to survive the battle between cure and poison.¡± A battle might be a slight embellishment of how the process occurred, but I could hardly think of another term better fitting the conflict between a draconic and celestial-derived substance.

    ¡°Are you certain of that?¡± Montague asked in a flat tone.

    ¡°There¡¯s little I can offer except maybe suggesting you consult another alchemist. If they¡¯re any good, they¡¯ll tell you the same thing. Or you can insist, I can give you the cure, and when your brother dies because he¡¯s not strong enough to take it, it¡¯ll be on your head and not mine. Do yourself a favor, my lord. Let me make the decision and not you. My cure, my fault if he doesn¡¯t survive.

    Montague hesitated, his face a mix between anger and sorrow.

    The servant cleared his throat, startling the both of us. Truth be told I¡¯d forgotten he was in here.

    ¡°Far be from me to instruct my lord in any way, but Master Desmond went through the same process, and before the incident last night, he was back to his normal self.¡±

    ¡°That wouldn¡¯t be Angel¡¯s Sorrow,¡± I added. ¡°I can¡¯t be sure what it is till we get there, but if there was a sudden relapse after a period of seeming normalcy, it would have been much more violent. Even those who barely suffered tended to expel blood, and afterwards were perfectly fine if weakened.¡±

    Placated, Montague finally nodded his assent. The rest of the ride passed in stilted silence.

    ***

    Most noble estates weren¡¯t very large outside of the Imperial Palace.

    This wasn¡¯t some expression of restraint on their part, more the fact that for centuries past noble seats of power tended to be out in the lands they owned. Dealing with the monarch had meant either a grand procession from the monarch out there to meet them, or the nobles to the rather meager size city Avernon had been back in those days.

    That had already been changing by the time of the attempted invasions of the Hells, as the world had gotten more connected and correspondence and the occasional trip was proving insufficient. Of course plans to change that had been forcibly altered by the fallout of the invasions. During the reign of Her Most Profane Majesty, most of the nobility had stayed on their estates for the express purpose of avoiding being near the court.

    That had all changed after she¡¯d been killed, her body publicly hung, drawn, and quartered in front of a crowd of thousands, including the nobility that had survived her reign.

    Lady Karsin¡¯s estate was close to as grand as they got, probably due more to it having existed long before it became fashionable to put estates inside the city. A central tower stood tall, old stonework still strong and layered in enchantments, still as formidable and defensible as it would have been back then. Smaller buildings dotted the estate, forming a wall along its edges, most of them servant¡¯s quarters and a guardhouse over the main entrance.

    We weren¡¯t headed for there. There was a small entrance along the side for servants and for guests who were best not seen publicly arriving. I qualified for the latter, and I accepted a hooded cloak produced from the carriage¡¯s storage without protest as we came to a halt. He¡¯d been gracious enough to let me store what little I could salvage from my apartment there.

    I got out of the carriage, almost stepping into a small crowd.

    About half a dozen humans, men and women dressed in laborer¡¯s clothes, had been lurking around the side gate. They¡¯d started walking away as soon as the carriage arrived, the driver and servant staring after them suspiciously.

    Once it was clear they were not going to return, the servant produced a key and slipped through the gates, saying to wait just a moment while he arranged a place for us to wait for Lady Karsin.

    I absent-mindedly nodded, focused more on the disappearing group of humans.

    One of them wore a top hat, and I stared at the group¡¯s departing backs. Had this been a group of Pure-bloods loitering around Lady Karsin¡¯s estate? It seemed too much a coincidence to not think about, but also maybe a bit paranoid to think that of a group of humans.

    I shook my head slightly. I was just being too judgmental and perhaps a touch too suspicious. I didn¡¯t want to end up like some members I¡¯d known of the Black Flame, thinking any human who crossed my path thought ill thoughts of me.

    ¡°Pure-bloods,¡± Montague noted, disdain in his voice. ¡°What are they doing here?¡±

    ¡°You know for certain?¡± How could he tell?

    ¡°Yes. However, only because some of that group was at our estate. They tried to beg funds off of father and were very disappointed when he had them ejected from the estate.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± I asked in surprise before quickly swallowing my ill-thought. I was being far too frank with the son of my client, even the disgraced son. Speaking ill of him would not help an already tense relationship that would only become more tense over the coming days.

    Montague raised an eyebrow, inviting me to continue. Carefully wording my next sentence, I spoke.

    ¡°He doesn¡¯t seem like the kind of man who would object to their goals,¡± I said cautiously.

    ¡°Some of their goals,¡± Montague snorted, looking at where the Pure-bloods had just rounded the corner, disappearing from sight. ¡°My father definitely has his prejudices, but they are nowhere near broad enough to fit with their worldview.¡±

    ¡°For the same reasons, I can¡¯t imagine they were here to meet with Lady Karsin. I imagine half-breeds would probably top the list of things they find distasteful. Unless they like elves?¡±

    ¡°From my very brief time with them, they don¡¯t,¡± Montague said. ¡°Not likely to make them friends even among other supremacist groups. Honestly, very strange.¡±

    ¡°How so?¡± I asked. My own thoughts led in the same direction, but no need to let anyone else know about my run-ins with them.

    ¡°We¡¯ve entertained nobles with views like that. Father is one as well. But most don¡¯t approach this level of bigotry. Not against so many groups at the same time, and not as hostile as they presented themselves. Elves and gnomes have been able to get citizenship for centuries at this point. Centaurs were among the founding members of the empire. Yet they seemingly consider them blights as well. I¡¯m not shocked they are so desperate for funding if they¡¯ve alienated so many, but they¡¯ve seemingly popped up suddenly and with so many members.¡±

    I nodded, but privately, I suspected that quite a few of these nobles Gregory talked about would be more biased than he expected, just not necessarily at events hosted among the notorious gossips that were nobility, not in an empire where the ruling Empress still owed so many not of human descent for her throne.

    Then again, the dwarves had once ranked among those.

    ¡°They weren¡¯t around till recently?¡± I asked.

    ¡°You don¡¯t know? I¡¯d think that an Infernal would know more than anyone.¡±

    ¡°I know the bigger groups, but some things are harder for me to find out than it might be for you, my lord. They are recent, then?¡±

    ¡°I thought we¡¯d hosted every noble who might lean that way in their beliefs, if only for politeness'' sake. If they have been around a while, it¡¯s been out of the sight of every noble in the city.¡±

    Ah. Useless information, then. I was acquainted with how much you could hide from nobles in this city if you wanted to¡ªa slow takeover of their capital, for one.

    The conversation came to an end as the gate opened. It was time to head inside and see exactly why Lady Karsin had sent for me. I could not think of an answer that made any sense

 Chapter 21 - A Seemingly Pointless Visit

    The walk through the interior gardens of the estate was enjoyable, if brief. Lady Karsin¡¯s servants took us through the gate and guided us along a path towards the back of the estate, trees and bushes of varying kinds forming a wall blocking sight from the main entrance.

    I wondered how many visitors to the estates realized that the garden¡¯s layout kept certain parts well out of sight.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been to the gardens before?¡± Montague asked as we walked behind the servant.

    ¡°Twice, they are very impressive,¡± I said. ¡°Especially with the rarity of some of these plants. I¡¯m surprised they¡¯ve managed a display that¡¯s pleasing to look at out of such a wide variety.¡±

    Considering some of these plants shouldn¡¯t be alive in this climate, very surprising. I¡¯d tried to linger before to figure out why, only to be shooed politely out of the estate each time.

    The tower was our destination, standing tall over all the estate. Still made in a style gone out of fashion three hundred years ago, the enchantments were newer, keeping the grim edifice defensible. Looking up the nearly hundred feet to the steel-covered roof, I idly wondered if the arrow slits had anyone lurking behind them, keeping watch on the activity down below.

    The garden section we traveled through was narrow and had little decoration. A swift way to get people from the side entrance to the tower itself. There was no one else there except for a pair of guards at the base of the tower, muskets in hand.

    They guarded a metal door with far too many locks that took far too long to open. The servants took us into a small little room to wait, albeit a much nicer one than I¡¯d waited for Lady Karsin in the past. There was wallpaper, a table, even chairs that had cushioning and didn¡¯t tilt! I was sure I¡¯d been waiting in the tower¡¯s old dungeon before today. The benefits of traveling around with nobility, even scandal-stricken nobility.

    The servant had left to fetch Lady Karsin, leaving me trying to make small talk with Gregory Montague.

    We were being watched, of course. The watching was probably more due to me than Montague. I let him guide the conversation, which immediately dovetailed into gossip, much of it centered on his father. I¡¯d only known the meaning of Lord Montague¡¯s disguise as Lord Thierry because of the publicity of that specific blowout becoming public news when a duel between Lord Thierry¡¯s son and Lord Montague¡¯s second son had resulted in the former nearly dying.

    I inquired about that subject as we waited for Lady Karsin.

    Gregory Montague¡¯s lips quirked when I asked about it. ¡°I watched it, being my brother¡¯s second. Charles loves dueling as much as he loves his service to our country. Far away from our father. I envy him, but the army life is not for me.¡±

    ¡°Not as many lovers to pursue?¡± I asked.

    ¡°According to my brother, that¡¯s not an issue,¡± Montague said. ¡°Honestly, it¡¯s because I couldn¡¯t stand leaving the city. The thought of leaving my mother city, why it physically pains me, I love it so much!¡±

    A fact I might believe more if not for the grin on his face.

    ¡°Keep your secrets,¡± I replied amusedly. ¡°Throwing stones is something I can hardly do in regards to our personal lives. I am curious about one thing, though. It¡¯s doubtful Lady Karsin would appreciate you being here. Another member of a noble house showing up practically unannounced in her home? Yet they just let you right in.¡±

    ¡°I share afternoon tea with the ladyship as part of my family¡¯s meeting with her Thursday. All that¡¯s changed is I¡¯m here a few hours ahead of schedule. Besides, my father could do without my presence at his house and find someone else to vent his frustrations to. Perhaps Lady Karsin if he finally wears her down.¡±

    ¡°Lord Montague is courting? We just finished talking about the duel held over his current marriage,¡± I said.

    ¡°Oh, not Maria. Honestly, she makes him happy and even manages to do so without sharing some of his more odious political views. If he were trying to leave her, I¡¯d be at the estate telling him what a brilliant idea it was in my best efforts to make him stay with her. No, he¡¯s trying to wed Edward to Lady Karsin, uniting our two houses.¡±

    ¡°Do you think it will work?¡± I asked.

    Gregory shrugged. ¡°Maybe. Recent events might have been a good reminder about how frail her house¡¯s standing is. If she dies, Desmond is only fourteen, and no matter how loyal and capable her household might be, he¡¯ll be in a weak position if she passes. And if the reverse were to occur, well then she must wed. Or adopt again, although I doubt Her Majesty will be so willing to let that occur a second time. My father hopes to have a Montague heir, of course.¡±

    ¡°Seem a rotten hand to be dealt, my lord.¡±

    He shrugged. ¡°Such is the game. Show weakness, shore it up. Father has an eye on Edward inheriting all of this, perhaps hoping the curse will occur.¡±

    A curse? That hadn¡¯t come up in the research I¡¯d done on Lady Karsin. Of course, there would be gaps in that, but he¡¯d mentioned it so casually.

    ¡°I was unaware there was a curse on her household,¡± I said carefully. ¡°She¡¯s gone to great effort to hide it.¡±

    Gregory looked at me in confusion for a few seconds. ¡°Oh. No, not an actual curse. Her lineage¡¯s misfortune in these last few centuries. The family line is down to just her and her heir at this point. Premature deaths and only a single line have been common, but despite the amount of death, they¡¯ve made a good fortune in trade and keeping their own estate in order. There¡¯s rumors about a deal with devils, of course.¡±

    ¡°There always are,¡± I muttered. I knew she and her heir were the only living members, which is why I suspected she¡¯d been willing to deal with a low-life Infernal alchemist to begin with.

    She¡¯d never been impolite in our dealings, but there were some things nobility could just not be seen doing unless desperation forced them to.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have believed it anything more than gossip, but I¡¯ve seen the records myself of each death. They do point to a rather nasty pattern.¡±

    ¡°You have access to the death records? I hardly think they¡¯d be something you went out of your way to find.¡±

    Gregory laughed. ¡°Oh, I didn¡¯t have to look very hard for any of them. My family is the keeper of the royal records for Avernon, from back when the nobility living here wasn¡¯t in vogue. It actually grates quite a bit on various counts and barons that a lowly lord has access to all the official records regarding them and their families. It¡¯s the main reason for my father and Lord Thierry¡¯s falling out after the marriage. Lord Thierry expected his son-in-law to provide him access to the various records for free and was very upset to find out my father wouldn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°I imagine it would be an advantage for all members of your family,¡± I said.

    It is interesting that he would be so blatant about his father¡¯s goals when Lady Karsin¡¯s servants were undoubtedly listening. Something he wanted to get to her, although I couldn¡¯t tell if it was to irk his father or to help her.

    ¡°Oh, he let us only into the records he approves of. Depending on the child. My access is by far the most limited.¡±

    ¡°As he should, around such an incorrigible character as yourself, Lord Gregory!¡±

    Lady Karsin swept into the room, two guards behind her stopping at either side of the door.

    Lady Karsin¡¯s face had that agelessness of those with elf blood, although she didn¡¯t have the typical large eyes, and her ears were only slightly pointed. A pair of violet eyes stared out at the world, filled with pleased mischief I typically associated with people much less refined than the noblewoman I¡¯d met twice before now.

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    She¡¯d settled for a simple dress once again, priceless compared to that old servant¡¯s dress I¡¯d gotten ruined a few days back. Very plain by the standards of nobility, but not when she moved.

    I had half-memories of a performance, watching with family back when ¡®Infernal¡¯ was barely a word I knew. Back when I thought there were no problems. Faded memories covered in nostalgia. I knew my aunt had not restrained her tongue around me even when I couldn¡¯t understand the words. Still, it had been a delight, watching the performers on stage, dancing with a grace that had seemed otherworldly.

    Just by walking from the doorway to the table, it felt like Lady Karsin put those dancers to shame.

    I curtsied, but Gregory Montague had gone past me, bowing down while taking Lady Karsin¡¯s hand and kissing it. Since the guards weren¡¯t even twitching, I assumed this was normal.

    Montague suddenly grabbing Lady Karsin and spinning her around till she was bent over, him leaning overhead, was probably not.

    ¡°Lady Karsin, you look as beautiful as you did when I first met you ten years ago today. Even more so I¡¯d argue, only growing more and more gorgeous with each rising of the sun.¡±

    ¡°Oh, Gregory. Still trying to create a scandal with me that would make marriage with your brother impossible?¡± Lady Karsin straightened herself up, gently but firmly pushing away a disappointed-looking Lord Montague.

    I forced down a sudden bit of anger that tried to rise up in my throat. I suddenly felt very much like an afterthought to all of this, despite being the one they had sent for.

    Lord Montague¡¯s slightly dour expression went back to ecstatic within moments. ¡°Oh, my lady Karsin. The fun goes away if you know what I¡¯m doing. This is mostly my attempt to do both you and my brother a service by scuttling his plans. Although I¡¯ll not deny any attraction. You wear over a hundred years much better than that harridan my father tried to force on me.¡±

    ¡°Lady Josephina? You know the sad thing is age didn¡¯t make her like that. She¡¯s always been a harpy even when she was 13.¡±

    I tried to cough politely, only to find it stuck in my throat. Do not feel intimidated, Malvia! They¡¯re goddamn nobles. Trading gossip about things that you could find on any corner of the Quarter.

    At least affairs in the Quarter ended at the first brawl, bitten out throat, or swearing of vengeance between two families for life that ended the moment winter¡¯s chill needed them to huddle together for warmth.

    Lady Karsin¡¯s attention turned to me without requiring a cough. ¡°Ah, Miss Falara. It¡¯s so good of you to come so soon.¡±

    ¡°Yes, well, I could hardly risk my reputation. Patients dying of toxins I cured them of would be a black mark on my record.¡±

    My record had quite a few black marks from when I¡¯d started out, but neither of them needed to know that.

    Lady Karsin turned to face Lord Montague.

    ¡°Lord Gregory, if you¡¯ll excuse me for a moment, my son¡¯s health-¡±

    ¡°-should take top priority, of course,¡± he finished. ¡°I¡¯d ask about coming along, but the fewer people to crowd little Desmond, the better. Tell him I said hello.¡±

    ***

    Montague didn¡¯t need to worry about crowding Desmond Karsin. Desmond Karsin was asleep, which was good because the first time I¡¯d been here, he¡¯d been lucid enough to ask his mother if I was going to eat his soul. It had taken forty minutes of talking to both his mother and me to convince him that his friend Francesca Starling, daughter of a duke, was talking out of her ass when she claimed all Infernals dined on mortal souls. Only put in nicer terms.

    Mortal souls were much more of a ¡°once you¡¯ve died and gone straight to the hells¡± food. Trying to acquire them here was much more difficult.

    I didn¡¯t want to find out what other things he¡¯d been fed about Infernals by this Francesca, one of which was probably that I would be attempting to seduce his mother. Nobles.

    Also, it helped because no one liked having blood drawn. I adjusted the tube piping as I pulled back on the plunger, drawing the blood out of him. He seemed very peaceful, the only movement that of his chest as he breathed.

    ¡°I still remember when they used knives for this,¡± Lady Karsin whispered softly.

    She and two other servants were in Desmond¡¯s room with me, the servants probably in case I somehow went insane and decided to try and kill the child. She¡¯d insisted on sitting next to me, which was proving very distracting. I was used to working in solitude, not with another living person right next to me, shifting around, breathing.

    ¡°It still is, where they can¡¯t afford these,¡± I replied. ¡°Owning one puts me in a very small group of people within the Quarter.¡±

    I¡¯d been lucky that these had survived the destruction that had carved its path through my apartment. Truth be told, maybe whoever had done the wrecking didn¡¯t realize what this was. Then again, considering I¡¯d found it fallen behind a shelf in the limited time I had before getting in the carriage, perhaps I¡¯d just gotten lucky.

    As it stood it was an extremely slow one, not helped by the fact I was being as careful with this patient as I could be.

    Lady Karsin frowned. ¡°That shouldn¡¯t be the case. I realize things in the Quarter are never well, but I would think the charity hospitals would be better equipped.¡±

    ¡°It depends on who manages them,¡± I replied. ¡°Typically, if it¡¯s not someone looking to grift, it¡¯s an official from the city, and they¡¯ve held a grudge since¡­¡±

    I trailed off, realizing that instinctive answers had almost given everything away. Katheryn Falara might possibly be low enough in the mulch of the Quarter to plausibly know about Understreet, but she wouldn¡¯t bring it up casually.

    ¡°Held a grudge since when Miss Falara?¡± Lady Karsin asked in a polite tone. Still, my hackles were raised.

    ¡°Just a theory,¡± I said, keeping a careful grip on the needle. Wear the mask. ¡°Probably just my paranoia. I¡¯ve been having a rough time lately, with far too many strangers suddenly intruding in my life. Including the one downstairs.¡±

    ¡°Hrrm, you should be careful around that one, Miss Falara,¡± Lady Karsin said, grinning at me. ¡°Known breaker of hearts, and has never been successfully tied down despite his father¡¯s best wishes. Our brief conversations have made me think there¡¯s some ambition hiding inside you despite your best efforts, but best not to aim for that particular star.¡±

    ¡°I have no interest in Gregory Montague,¡± I said swiftly. ¡°I met the man less than a few hours ago, going through my ransacked apartments.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Lady Karsin seemed shocked. ¡°That seems a little strange for him.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t believe he ransacked them, but I¡¯ve hardly formed a favorable opinion of him.¡±

    ¡°Very few do at first. Although, given how flustered you seemed in there, how is your opinion of me, Miss Falara?¡±

    I froze, calling on my sculpt to keep my face still. I was being made sport of. It¡¯s the only thing that made sense. I didn¡¯t trust myself to reply, merely focusing on my work. The ticking of the clock grew louder as I focused on the needle. Biosculpts I¡¯d crafted could control my expression. They couldn¡¯t control the flushing of skin. Please let that just be warmth from the small room.

    ¡°Miss Falara?¡±

    ¡°Just a few seconds more, maybe half a minute,¡± I replied mechanically. I didn¡¯t look away from the apparatus.

    After the needle was filled, I took the glove off my hand. Pulling the sample of blood out, I carefully poured a little into the palm of my hand, waiting.

    ¡°I thought the substance was dangerous to your kind?¡±

    ¡°It dilutes enough there should only be a slight burning,¡± I said. ¡°Even a trace amount will still react, and it will be apparent, but I don¡¯t need to mix my blood with it unless I want to be theatrical. Truthfully, I just don¡¯t want to cut myself again. I¡¯m much less certain of my ability to keep the wound clean. It¡¯ll hurt, it may even be a little singed, but it¡¯ll be easier to care for than a cut.¡±

    I waited, counting until half a minute passed. There was no sensation on my hand but that of the liquid lying in it. After half a minute had passed, I grabbed a plain glass from the side of the table and poured the blood in. There was not even a mark on my hand.

    ¡°Whatever your heir was dosed with, it isn¡¯t Angel¡¯s Sorrow. I can run tests although my current tools are limited, if you want me to?¡±

    She nodded firmly. ¡°Anything that you can provide a second opinion on would be appreciated. I should probably go keep Lord Montague entertained, but I trust you with my heir.¡±

    Well, as long as two of her servants were here to keep an eye on me, I noted. Lady Karsin was already rising from her chair, preparing to leave the room.

    ¡°Before you go Lady Karsin,¡± I asked quickly, making her pause. ¡°I...this may sound foolish, but I have no idea why you called me here. It is clear from the start that your son has not suffered from another dose of Angel¡¯s Sorrow. Why call me here?¡±

    She looked down at me for a few moments, seeming to honestly struggle for the words.

    ¡°You saved my son¡¯s life,¡± she said earnestly. ¡°That¡¯s worth more than the best money can buy to me.¡±

    And with that, she left.

    I continued testing what I could under the gaze of the two servants, I considered why exactly I was here. Oh, the statement about trusting me so much for saving her son¡¯s life had certainly sounded heartfelt, but that was easy to fake. I¡¯d fallen for that act a few times before learning to never take those statements at face value.

    With her out of the room it was surprisingly easier to focus than it had been with her or Montague. The two servants were quiet, which helped immensely.

    So why was I here? It could hardly be my expertise or discretion, so there would be another reason. A test of some kind? I eyed both of the servants, who seemed disinterested in talk. A few casual remarks inviting conversation got nothing but grunts of disinterest from both of them.

    They seemed as still as stone and with demeanors to match. They looked human, but if I were to pull the same trick I had on Golvar, would I find alterations under their skin?

    I was being paranoid. Not everything was a trap or a trick. Besides, if it was a trap, Lady Karsin had used very obvious bait.

    On a whim, I said, ¡°Quite a conundrum, isn¡¯t it, Mr. Voltar? The boy is poisoned, but not lethally, right after someone assuredly tries to kill him. One would assume this is perhaps one of the boy''s ill-behaved friends among the other noble¡¯s children playing an extremely poorly planned and thought-out prank, no?¡±

    Neither of the servants so much as twitched.

    After a few more tests, I was forced to admit defeat. Not a difficult defeat to see coming, with most of my equipment destroyed and my reagents along with it. And I hadn¡¯t figured out why I was here either.

 Chapter 22 - The perfectly wrong way to drink tea

    After I¡¯d returned from her heir and delivered my report, Lady Karsin insisted I stay for at least a cup of tea, which I didn¡¯t turn down. After all the chaos of today, it was barely afternoon. A moment to relax seemed well deserved.

    Unfortunately, it seemed one of the topics of conversation had been myself.

    ¡°From what Lord Montague was telling me, your entire apartment is a loss?¡± Lady Karsin asked me.

    ¡°Yes, although I¡¯m hoping his father¡¯s payment will make up for some of it, my lady,¡± I said uncomfortably.

    ¡°And no idea who was responsible?¡±

    ¡°Some idea, but my business is my business, my lady.¡± And would remain separate from this. As I would be soon enough.

    ¡°If you insist. Ah, perfect! Thank you Martissimo!¡±

    One of the servants had wheeled in a cart filled with pastries and several cups of tea. Was she expecting more company? Ah, the rest of the Montagues.

    ¡°I hope you both will enjoy the tea,¡± Lady Karsin said. ¡°It¡¯s laced with alchemy. I think you might be familiar with the practice, Miss Falara?¡±

    It actually pained me to put my cup down when she mentioned that.

    ¡°I am, and unfortunately, I have an adverse reaction to the majority of those substances, Lady Karsin.¡±

    ¡°Ah, my apologies. I should have checked first. I¡¯ll have the staff make one without the additive.¡±

    I smiled politely. ¡°Much appreciated, Lady Karsin.¡±

    ¡°Such a shame you¡¯re allergic. I¡¯ve been meaning to try to see the response to this blend before I serve it at a party tomorrow. You don¡¯t have any issues with it, do you, Lord Montague?¡±

    ¡°Oh no,¡± he said with a gleeful grin. ¡°I¡¯ve actually already tried a few at the more recent parties. They¡¯ve been rather bracing.¡±

    I wasn¡¯t actually allergic to any of those substances, but you did not drink anything with alchemy unless you knew yourself the mixture placed in. Of course, she could have just not said anything, and neither of us would have known. Unless one of us could see magic, and since I¡¯d gone to great lengths to hide my own talent, that would mean the third person at the table.

    I gave Gregory Montague a sidelong glance. Did he have a talent for any of the inborn magical arts? That might explain his seeming lack of concern for his own life and why Lord Montague might keep around a son he was less than fond of. Perhaps there was more to him than met the eye.

    Lifting his cup, he gave me a small grin and proceeded to drink it all in a single gulp.

    No, I thought as I watched him set the cup down with a satisfied look on his face. There might be even less to him.

    ¡°I¡¯d heard rumors, but I never thought I¡¯d see it in person,¡± Lady Karsin said, looking a little shocked. ¡°That¡¯s the style popular in the court these days?¡±

    It was what?

    ¡°You must be joking,¡± I said. ¡°Swallowing it in one gulp cannot be any way to enjoy tea, and definitely not something gaining popularity!¡±

    Gregory Montague raised an eyebrow at my little outburst as I settled back in my seat, cheeks burning. ¡°You have particular tastes on the proper way of drinking tea, Miss Falara?¡±

    ¡°Perhaps inherited from a parent?¡± Lady Karsin added.

    ¡°Definitely not from my father. Whoever that might be. And I never knew my mother as well,¡± I lied quickly. ¡°So it is entirely possible, but in terms of being raised and taught in the ways of drinking tea, not really Lady Karsin. The streets were my teacher in many things.¡±

    Not untrue, even if that stretch of time was maybe a third of my life. It would be even longer if you included my time under Versalicci, but that hadn¡¯t been the hardscrabble life of the true streets. The stuff about not learning tea from my mother¡­technically true, if you considered a group effort from many family members different from having learned from her alone.

    ¡°You don¡¯t know who either of your parents are?¡± Gregory asked. ¡°Surely you must have at some point been inclined to find out?¡±

    ¡°Inclination would suggest I have a desire to find out more about the people who threw me out in the streets,¡± I replied. ¡°If one of them were to materialize out of thin air on fire? I¡¯d go looking for some oil to add to the blaze.¡±

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    It was only after I finished that I realized both Lady Karsin and Gregory were regarding me as if I¡¯d suddenly caught aflame. I resisted the urge to start breathing deeply. I¡¯d let myself get too unbalanced, let the mask slip a few too many times.

    ¡°That seems a bit brazen,¡± Lady Karsin said.

    ¡°I believe she would do it,¡± Montague said. ¡°She slammed me to the ground, and I believe was on the verge of shooting me this morning.¡±

    Lady Karsin looked at me appraisingly. ¡°Really? I know Gregory might be a bit rough, but that seems a little extreme.¡±

    Cheeks flushing, I hurried to my own defense. ¡°I found him in the middle of the ruins of my apartment, which had been thoroughly ransacked.¡±

    ¡°I also opened the conversation with a few innuendos that I don¡¯t think she appreciated,¡± Gregory confessed to Lady Karsin. ¡°I think that might explain the gun more than the potential ransacking.¡±

    ¡°Lord Montague, when has opening a conversation with innuendo ever worked out for you?¡± Lady Karsin asked with a wry grin on her face.

    ¡°More times than you would think. They¡¯ve all worked out each time, including now, so there¡¯s no hard feelings over it,¡± he assured me. ¡°If anything, you¡¯ve treated me more gently than most who have found me in places I shouldn¡¯t be. I¡¯ve always been of the opinion that experiencing new things can never have a downside.¡±

    I smiled, nodded, and gladly accepted those two taking control of the conversation and turning to Montague¡¯s various scandals instead of my behavior. The servants finally brought a regular cup of tea, and I could hardly refuse any. Besides, if Lady Karsin meant to slip me anything that wouldn¡¯t alter the beverage¡¯s taste, she¡¯d hardly use the excuse of a recent fad of adding alchemicals.

    A sip and it felt like the stress had been banished from my body. I felt relaxed, and I let the conversation flow.

    The tea tasted amazing, and I spent a few minutes raving about the blend to Lady Karsin. I also made sure to savor every drop, in contrast to that lunatic Montague who continued to down them in single shots, insisting the entire time it was the new style. If I still had the inclination, I might consider trying to slip inside the estate and stealing enough to keep my battered teapot stocked for a century.

    I pretended to notice the time on the clock across from us half an hour later. Enough time had passed that I could leave without offense. I hoped so, at least, but if not, I could always blame it on my lower-class upbringing. Besides, Lord Montague would probably be arriving any minute for that scheduled tea with Lady Karsin, and I would do my best to avoid that.

    ¡°Thank you very much for hosting me, Lady Karsin, but I really should be going,¡± I said, getting up from my seat. ¡°I unfortunately have other things I need to get to before the day comes to an end. Perhaps we can do this some other time?¡±

    She nodded. ¡°Tomorrow afternoon, perhaps? Lord Montague will be there as well, so it would be the perfect time to discuss your payment from him?¡±

    I smiled and shook my head. ¡°I have an unavoidable appointment at that time. Perhaps a day later?¡±

    ¡°Definitely,¡± she said, seemingly surprisingly sober.

    Gregory Montague also got up from his chair.

    ¡°If you¡¯ll let me escort you to the carriage, Miss Falara?¡± He asked, offering his arm.

    I looked from him to Lady Karsin. What exactly had they talked about while I was finishing those tests?

    ¡°I need a reason to avoid Father,¡± he added. ¡°If I arrive after escorting you out, I can pretend I just made it back from your apartment.¡±

    That seemed plausible enough. I didn¡¯t take his arm, merely letting him walk alongside me in silence as a servant directed us out of the tower.

    ¡°I¡¯ve decided not to try and take you to my father¡¯s estate,¡± Gregory said, breaking the silence once we¡¯d made it into the gardens. ¡°Talking with Lady Karsin some, your advice seems the best, and I¡¯ll do my best to get it through my father¡¯s skull how much risk he¡¯d put Edward in. Well, that and I¡¯m pretty sure I couldn¡¯t force you to come without causing a fuss neither of us really want.¡±

    I raised an eyebrow. ¡°Not without something of a fuss, I¡¯d hope. Your father will take your advice?¡±

    ¡°With Lady Karsin there to help nail each point through his thick skull? Yes.¡±

    Even still, this was some trust Gregory was extending towards me and hoping I¡¯d been right.

    I could extend a little back. Nothing that would actually put me at risk, but some goodwill now might pay dividends later.

    ¡°Keep a dose. Do not tell your father. If your father follows my instructions, there will be a time when your brother seems to be nearly back to how he was before the poison. Give him the dose, then.¡±

    Gregory went still, a startled look on his face. ¡°You¡¯re trusting me with this?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t have many options,¡± I admitted. ¡°You seem decent enough, and I might be busy with other work for the next few days. It¡¯s better that the first dose gets administered at the proper time than me withholding it.¡±

    My examination of his decency aside, if Gregory Montague was the ambitious type and didn¡¯t dose his brother at the right time or even withheld the cure, I could tell his father. His father didn¡¯t trust me, but I didn¡¯t get the impression his opinion of Gregory was much higher.

    ¡°And the second dose?¡± Gregory asked, eyes narrowing.

    ¡°Will remain with me,¡± I said. ¡°Until I receive my payment in full.¡±

    ¡°My father has many faults, but not paying his debts is not one of them.¡±

    ¡°Then I can witness that when I get my payment,¡± I replied.

    I doubted I¡¯d be getting full payment. I¡¯d probably end up negotiating a lesser price for the second dose just before I changed lives again.

    ¡°Keep careful around Lady Karsin,¡± Gregory Montague muttered.

    I stiffened. I was not so lost that I immediately spat back some foolish question about whether he had actually said something. Instead, after a second I forced myself to relax and then snorted.

    ¡°You know, I think if I told your father you were saying such things around me, he might double what he pays me,¡± I said conversationally, no higher than I normally would.

    ¡°Oh, but he tried to set us up to begin with. He can hardly blame me for trying,¡± Gregory said, bursting into laughter. As the fit came to it¡¯s end, he whispered once again. ¡°One century alive. In the court.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll certainly keep it in mind,¡± I assured him. ¡°After all, perhaps a noble on my arm would open many doors I¡¯d find locked.¡±

    ¡°Oh, the doors locked to you would be locked to me as well. Safe travels, Miss Falara!¡± he called out as he walked back towards the tower.

    I nodded, a forced smile on my face. I hardly felt safe.

 Chapter 23 - Top Hats are not Friends

    It took far too much time to return to the Infernal Quarter. I hadn¡¯t asked about a carriage to take me back, simply retrieved my belongings and started my journey on foot. Going on foot meant a long trip hoping no one paid too much attention to me or felt tempted to try and steal the small bag of my belongings slung across my back. Most days, that would just be a case of not wanting to be gawked at, but today, the memory of those marchers still fresh in my mind? I just wanted to make it to the Quarter.

    I could spend at least half a day there before the rest of the world decided to drag me out of there once again.

    I had no doubt I¡¯d end up at the Montague estate sooner rather than later. Lord Montague would send agents who couldn¡¯t be talked out of going, and I¡¯d have to talk him out of accidentally killing his own son.

    That could wait. You could never tell exactly how fast the poison would progress, but it sounded like Edward Montague was still in the latter part of the middle stage. He could wait a day or two while I handled other business. Some of which had become urgent if I really was going to abandon this identity.

    That¡­.I could commit to it, of course. I just needed to talk to two people first. Preferably Tolman first so I could have an ally when I tried to convince Arsene. As is, it was becoming too late in the day to find Tolman alone. His match with Ironhand Jack would be at least a week away, so he¡¯d probably be having dinner with Arsene and the trio they¡¯d adopted off the streets right now. If we could get the kids out of the way, we could have a discussion.

    I headed directly there as soon as I made it into the Quarter, which brought me close enough to the marcher¡¯s chanting. Hopefully, their numbers would have bled throughout the day as heat and hunger forced some of them back to their homes. They apparently retained enough to still be heard, and to my mild dismay, the streets were emptier than normal.

    The usual teeming mass of Infernalkind was now a tickle, and most of those looked nervous. Had a clash occurred while I was out, or had the marchers intimidated most to stay inside? Either way would be bad news.

    Tolman¡¯s apartment was the remnants of a shop from before the Quarter had been scoured for soldiers to fight in the empire¡¯s many wars. You could see the post where they¡¯d taken the sign down. It had been a pawn shop beforehand, which might explain why its owners had been dragged out to fight in the Avenland campaigns.

    They hadn¡¯t shown up yet, but if they did I didn¡¯t see that confrontation ending well for either party. Assuming they were alive and not buried somewhere.

    I rapped my knuckles on the door, waiting till I heard a voice call out that the door was unlocked. Not the voice I wanted to hear, but hopefully Tolman was home as well.

    A green-skinned Infernal looked at me with weary resignation from what had once been the counter of the store, now turned into part of the kitchen. He was currently in the process of cutting up what might be a fish. It might also be part of a giant frog, but this far away, I couldn¡¯t tell.

    ¡°Arsene,¡± I said. ¡°I expected to find Tolman here as well. Is he out?¡±

    ¡°Training,¡± Arsene said testily. ¡°For some fool fighting match he wants to have with Ironhand Jack. I don¡¯t suppose you have anything to do with that, do you, Malvia?¡±

    I bit back a curse, staring at the stairs. ¡°Do not mention my name where your children might hear it, they-¡±

    ¡°-are asleep because they wore themselves out early. And even if they weren¡¯t, they know better than to mention your name,¡± Arsene replied sternly, cutting me off. I held back my own reply. Arsene¡¯s tone made it clear his tolerance of me being in here was slim.

    Still, I expected him to have more common sense than this. Children always eavesdropped when given a chance, and they always talked. They lacked the sense not to.

    ¡°I tried talking him out of Ironhand Jack. I don¡¯t want to reattach his horns again, and frankly, I want him out of that business entirely.¡±

    ¡°So he can work for you more often instead?¡±

    ¡°With anyone, Arsene. Not just me. I don¡¯t make him, and I don¡¯t lean on him.¡±

    ¡°But you don¡¯t dissuade him,¡± Arsene countered.

    ¡°I tried at first. He feels he needs to keep an eye on me, so I might as well get you and him some coin out of it.¡±

    Arsene¡¯s eyes narrowed as he continued to cut up the mystery meat.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t need to come here to say that,¡± he stated. ¡°Unless you thought I was too dumb to notice my husband¡¯s very poor excuses for where he¡¯s been spending his time. Why are you here, Malvia?¡±

    ¡°How much has Tolman told you of what¡¯s happened the last few days?¡±

    ¡°Very little,¡± Arsene said flatly.

    I sighed. It would be better coming from Tolman than me, but since I had no idea when he¡¯d return, the task fell to me.

    ¡°Golvar recognized me in the street,¡± I said flatly. ¡°As Katheryn Falara. He knew my disguise well enough to recognize and call me out while I was walking on the streets. Thanks to that, I¡¯m now mixed up in a whole new mess, and even worse, Versalicci keeps on trying to force a meeting with me.¡±

    ¡°Really? Mixed up with what?¡± Arsene asked me lightly.

    I choked back a growl. He was not taking this seriously.

    ¡°Voltar. Nobles. The Watch. Oh, and Versalicci, who has been trying to have me meet with him. Politely now, since the first few attempts didn¡¯t go well.¡±

    Arsene sighed. ¡°You poked the bear, didn¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve done nothing of the sort,¡± I protested. ¡°I¡¯ve been dragged into most of this against my will and have been doing my best to get disentangled from it! Which is why I¡¯m here. In the coming days, I¡¯m going to disappear, perhaps from the quarter, perhaps from the city entirely. Katheryn Falara isn¡¯t showing up again. And Arsene and Tolman Moray probably shouldn¡¯t either.¡±

    ¡°Taking the easy path out?¡± Arsene finished chopping up his meat, considering me with a contemptuous gaze. ¡°Things get rough, just pack up and go, leaving nothing important behind?¡±

    ¡°I am hardly leaving ¡®nothing¡¯ behind,¡± I hissed, getting up from the table. He would not dare-

    ¡°Oh. Right, I almost forgot about her. I suppose, in the end, getting abandoned once again shouldn¡¯t hurt her too-¡±

    ¡°You do not get to say anything about that,¡± I snarled. ¡°It does not involve you-¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure it does,¡± he cut me off, voice calm but firm. ¡°More than likely, it was you visiting her that gave it away in the first place. So now that you¡¯ve put all three of us at risk by visiting her, you¡¯ll do the noble thing of cutting yourself off from her?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll make arrangements. If anything, take the fact I¡¯m willing to do this as a sign of how serious this is, Arsene. And how seriously you should be taking this. Do you think Versalicci is going to take you hating me as something in your favor when he finally gets around to you and Tolman?¡±

    Arsene snorted. ¡°I don¡¯t hate you, Malvia. I just think you¡¯ve crumbled at the slightest bit of pressure. Gods and devils together, you were more put together back when we were in the Black Flame. I¡¯m not leaving. Tolman isn¡¯t either, so if you¡¯re going to run from your problems, Malvia, do it by yourself.¡±

    ¡°I am trying to help you,¡± I hissed. ¡°If Versalicci makes the right connection and realizes who you and Tolman actually are, do you think he¡¯s going to be easier than moving out of the city?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a problem because Tolman decided to start working with you again,¡± he replied. ¡°If my fool of a husband knew better, this wouldn¡¯t be a problem dragged in by whatever fool scheme you¡¯ve involved him in.¡±

    I¡¯d involved Tolman in what could barely be called a scheme on my end, but I ignored that for now. Anything to keep our conversation on something I could actually focus on.

    ¡°Golvar knew who I was, Arsene. I hadn¡¯t encountered him at all as Falara, and the first time I crossed his path, he knew who I was. How much are you willing to lay on the line for the chance he doesn¡¯t know who you and Tolman were before?¡±

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°A fair bit,¡± Arsene said. ¡°If Versalicci has his eyes on us, it¡¯s not me or Tolman that he¡¯ll be interested in.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t play stupid with me,¡± I said forcefully. ¡°Is he going to want my hide first, for a variety of reasons? Yes. Is he going to let you and Tolman off with barely a cross word sent your way? Ignoring the skills he¡¯ll figure he¡¯s owed for investing into, he¡¯s got an image he likes to keep very protected. Part of that image is no one leaves the Black Flame without his say-so. Do you think he won¡¯t uphold that? Or the fact we stole from him? Or deserted right as Understreet kicked off?¡±

    ¡°And I think he¡¯s more interested in getting you back for a variety of reasons,¡± Arsene said. ¡°He¡¯ll not be interested in a pair who he¡¯s clearly tolerated just because you¡¯ve done something to irritate him.¡±

    ¡°I..¡± I couldn¡¯t think of anything to say. Arsene wasn¡¯t taking this seriously and seemed to be considering Versalicci more like an irritated neighbor than anything else. ¡°Arsene, you were there the day he showed me what happens to traitors. I was fourteen, which meant I was too dumb and immature to fully absorb what happened. You were neither.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re still dumb and immature,¡± he said. ¡°As proven in the past. As proven now. Your one good idea was practically fed to you, and you took so damn long to do it people paid with their lives. And Johnazen¡¯s crimes against the boss were much greater than our own.¡±

    ¡°Greater in what way?¡± I replied, ignoring long-treaded ground. ¡°We betrayed the boss and ripped him off, Arsene. Does that mean he¡¯ll merely slit your throats instead of feeding you to a swarm of diabolist-tainted rats?¡±

    ¡°Perhaps. In which case, me not being so short-sighted, me and Tolman will use the other preparations I have made just in case the worst happened. Do you think we¡¯ve spent the last few years preparing for this possibility as lazily as you have, Malvia? Or that going to Versalicci will end with you dead? He¡¯s not going to hurt you any more than he thinks is necessary for a lesson, and that¡¯s pretty damn light. You aren¡¯t solving this problem by running from it.¡±

    My reply died in my throat, both because of the shock and the fact that he was right. Arsene didn¡¯t pause to give me a chance to reply, continuing onwards.

    ¡°You have no idea what you are saying at all.¡±

    He ignored me.

    ¡°I¡¯m not putting the children through that as well. Having to change towns, change lives, constantly being on edge, I¡¯m not going to inflict that on them. I¡¯m sure I and Tolman will discuss it further, but that¡¯s for us and our children to discuss. Not you, Malvia. Now, please leave before any tails you¡¯ve picked up start thinking we are mixed up in your mess.¡±

    I tried to say something and found nothing. So I left with as much of myself as I could gather.

    I could hardly force Tolman and Arsene to go through changing their whole lives again. Arsene had damn good points why not to as well. The test of a mask is how well it withstands pressure.

    That didn¡¯t mean he was right about anything, but it did mean he couldn¡¯t be talked into this. That left Tolman to try and work.

    I didn¡¯t care how convinced Arsene was about his and Tolman¡¯s safety, Versalicci did not tolerate traitors.

    Alright. I needed to focus on something else instead. Shelter, for one thing. Staying at my apartment was out of the question, the same for my lab. Crashing at Tolman¡¯s or at the Guild was also out. I still had Lord Montague¡¯s advance tucked away on my person, so I could maybe rent, but my options there were limited. I didn¡¯t particularly want to run the risk of someone deciding to club me in my sleep in order to get the rest of my money, if not slit my throat.

    The Hell¡¯s Own was an option. A pricey option, and with its own specific issue. I¡¯d have to cross the line formed by the Marchers from earlier to make it there. That or walk a full half of the quarter and then back again.

    The sounds of those chants had grown quiet, but the quarter had not replaced the noise with anything else. The sun was slowly setting, yes, but the quarter was quieter than even when the moon reached its apex.

    Something had happened while I was gone.

    ***

    Sometimes, the absence of something paints as clear a picture as the presence of something.

    There was no one in Salenbury Avenue but the Watch. No bodies, no abandoned signs or placards, no discarded weapons, just three or so of the city¡¯s finest every thirty feet watching the intersecting streets and alleys. That, and the occasional patch of dried blood.

    I paused at the edge of the street, embracing an all too real hesitancy as I got the attention of a Watchwoman.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± I said meekly. ¡°Is it okay to cross? I just saw the Marchers earlier, but I haven¡¯t been around since, and if there¡¯s a curfew or something going into effect, I really need to get home.¡±

    ¡°No curfew as of yet,¡± the Watchwoman said. She was a young Keltish woman who seemed a little easier going than her two companions, who eyed me with suspicion. ¡°Street¡¯s alright for crossing, but no traveling along it, okay?¡±

    I didn¡¯t bother to ask what had happened, that information could be more easily and accurately gotten from my destination, so I crossed ahead while doing my best imitation of a good Imperial citizen.

    Hells, I tried to be one, minus the occasional lawbreaking most of the time.

    The surrounding streets weren¡¯t as deserted as Salenbury Avenue, but they were emptier than usual. It felt weird, and unsafe, despite the fact that the crowded nature of the Quarter¡¯s streets had never made it safe. Still, being out with the sun still up and being more than twenty paces from a person felt almost like walking around naked.

    I shivered, then made for a side alley. The quicker I made it to Hell¡¯s Own, the better.

    I should have known that even thinking those thoughts would invite disaster.

    It was only approaching the end of the alley that I realized someone was heading the other way. Someone who definitely was not an Infernal.

    I eyed the human suspiciously. Clad in dockworker¡¯s garb, he resembled other members of the Pure-blood gang. Figuring caution was more important, I turned around only to spot another one bearing a top hat was entering the far end of the alley.

    Top hats. Their wearers seemed to be my bane recently. Surely not something I could lay against the fashion piece itself of course, and I suppose Gregory Montague wasn¡¯t too much of a stain on their reputation.

    Then again, I wasn¡¯t related to any of the women or possibly men he¡¯d been involved with.

    The top hat-wearing one walked with a grace and sense of balance far beyond what he should have. I wouldn¡¯t have noticed if it wasn¡¯t one of the more popular fads in Biosculpting. Someone had altered this one with a lesser version of the natural grace of an elf. Just enough to be sure of his footing at all times. Once you knew what to look for, the subtle alteration to a human¡¯s gait it produced was unmistakable.

    Either Golvar had been lying or this one had invested into some very subtle Biosculpting. It was subtle enough that he could pass it off as just a quirk of his natural biology if he didn¡¯t demonstrate it too often. Still, if he could afford this, he must be fairly high up in their hierarchy.

    I wonder which elf had been knifed for the parts?

    ¡°Good morning, gentlemen!¡± I said with forced cheer. ¡°I am Katheryn Falara. What brings you two to the District so early in the day?¡±

    ¡°Beating up Foulhorns,¡± the one I¡¯d spotted first. He continued at a steady pace down the alleyway.

    ¡°Excuse my colleagues'' inaccuracies. We haven¡¯t laid a hand on any of your kind yet, although not for a lack of willingness,¡± Top Hat said.

    My forced smile faded. No need to hide how I actually felt. I kept my hands inside my coat, not even bothering to hide they were ready to draw weapons.

    ¡°It¡¯s amazing how well you navigate the district, considering you don¡¯t live here,¡± I mused. ¡°After today¡¯s events, I doubt anyone would be happy to find you two still inside the quarter.¡±

    ¡°Nah,¡± the first one said. ¡°Flash some steel, and as long as there ain¡¯t a lot of your kind you all scatter to the wind. Foulhorns ain¡¯t big on courage, ain¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Delightful,¡± I hissed. ¡°While I¡¯d love to debate the particulars of that, I have pressing appointments elsewhere, so I¡¯m going to leave. Unless either of you objects?¡±

    ¡°There lies a problem then,¡± Top Hat said. He pulled a knife out of his coat, which was completely inadequate as a weapon. His companion though pulled out a longsword, even bigger than mine. A plain claymore. Who in the hells uses a regular claymore these days?

    I pulled my pistol and saber out, which they didn¡¯t even hesitate upon seeing.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to hurt anyone,¡± I warned the first one. A lie, I really did, after the day I¡¯d had. Hell, being able to disappear soon gave me an easy out of the consequences, but damnations, I did not want to be mixed up in this.

    I moved towards one of the walls, keeping my movements slow. Having nowhere to run wasn¡¯t a good option, but not being able to see both Pure-bloods at once would be even worse.

    Top Hat snorted, keeping the same steady pace as he walked towards me. ¡°Tell that to our mates. You know how many of my friends have died because of you, Foulhorn?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll guess anywhere between none and all,¡± I replied. ¡°I¡¯d argue I didn¡¯t have much of a choice in either case. You keep on attacking someone, don¡¯t be surprised when they fight back.¡±

    Top Hat grinned, and his hand gestured towards me.

    Something grabbed my arms, slamming them against the wall. I gasped only for something to force my jaw together, snapping my mouth shut.

    Top Hat grinned, strutting closer while his companion kept a wary eye on his end of the alley. A mage of some kind, he had to be.

    I strained against whatever magic bound me, but it was like pushing against a wall of stone. Nothing budged, and as I pushed it lifted me in the air, yanking my limbs up as it dragged me a half-foot off of the ground. My tail lashed out only to be rammed into the alley wall.

    Whatever force Top Hat wielded pushed against the side of my head, my neck bending as the back of my head scraped against the rough wooden wall behind me.

    ¡°You know, what pisses me off the most is that the boss says we have to keep you alive,¡± he murmured, putting the back of his hand against my cheek and slowly dragging it across. ¡°If it were my call, I¡¯d just snap your neck here and leave you in the alley, but orders are orders. We gotta do this the easy way or the hard way?¡±

    ¡°Easy way¡¯s rope, hard way is we break all your limbs and shove you in a crate,¡± his companion informed me.

    I strained against Top Hat¡¯s touch, trying so desperately to be able to move my neck I almost didn¡¯t notice the force on my jaw vanishing.

    I could move my jaw. This was going to hurt. I bit the inside of my cheek and felt the blood flood my mouth. So close to waking, my own flesh would suffice as I bit off a strip of my cheek, devouring it.

    Finally

    Inside my gut, something stirred. Top Hat paused, hand still on my cheek. Not for long.

    His hand withered, shrinking in on itself as skin blackened and wrinkled. His wrist snapped as he yanked his arm back. Nails fell out, scattering onto the floor, followed by his hand as it sloughed off the rotting end of his arm. His hold on me released, and I drove an elbow into his companion¡¯s gut.

    The Pure-blood screamed as skin sloughed off his stick-thin arm, exposing bone and strings of black, corrupted flesh.

    The force holding me against the wall vanished and I moved into action, pistol already aiming.

    My bullet rammed between his eyes, cutting off the scream.

    The second one was still backpedaling as I charged, saber at the ready. I wasn¡¯t a very skilled fighter with a blade, but it mattered little. Terror had seized him, and it took very little time to capitalize on it.

    My blade slit his throat, sending blood spewing across me. He slumped against the wall, light fading fast from his eye as blood came out.

    Feast, a voice commanded me inside my own head.

    Unconsciously, my jaw opened.

 Chapter 24 - The Poor Rats

    ¡°No,¡± I whispered, turning away from the sight. My tongue slipped out unconsciously, licking some of the arterial spray off of my face. I bit down into it, holding it in place before it could slip inside. I winced, tasting copper as my teeth sank in to hold the possessed appendage in place.

    How much do you insist on mutilating yourself to avoid every bit of temptation, girl? You¡¯ve become even more boring since putting me to sleep.

    I couldn¡¯t respond, tongue flailing as I held it in place with my teeth. The Imp eventually let go, and I got as much blood off as I could before letting my tongue back inside. My blood and the pain would feed the possessing demon, but not as much as taking in the blood of another.

    Curse you, Versalicci, for sticking me with this damned thing.

    When my talent for Diabolism had first emerged, there were no teachers of it. At least, that was the excuse Versalicci had given me. I¡¯d forgotten the one he¡¯d made when Daver had shown up and done what Versalicci suggested as an alternative. A shortcut to be taken so I could do as he asked.

    Arranging my possession by the imp.

    ¡°I¡¯m not eating human corpses for you,¡± I said, keeping a wary eye for any witnesses while I cleaned my saber.

    I¡¯d found out early in my possession that while the Imp could intrude on my thoughts easily enough, I could only communicate by speaking out loud. My research into Diabolism since leaving had not turned up much, but I¡¯d learned enough to know that it was not normal for possession.

    Versalicci had done it on purpose. Another way to keep me deeper in his thrall.

    I walked away from the two corpses. I should have kept one alive for questioning, but waking the imp next to a struggling human it could try to force me to gnaw on?

    I wasn¡¯t becoming a cannibal of the living or the dead.

    My stomach wrenched, and my guts felt like they were being twisted. I collapsed, trying to wretch something out of an empty stomach.

    ¡°Try to do that again, and the next thing down my throat will be holy water, imp. You want to risk that?¡± I gasped out as I got back to my feet.

    The imp actually took its time to respond to that. You wouldn¡¯t dare. I know you, Malvia Harrow and you¡¯re hardly one to take your own life.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t need to,¡± I said. ¡°There was an account of experiments done a century back on diluting holy water and measuring its effectiveness that I¡¯ve read. There¡¯s a precise amount of dilution that would result in my survival, but you getting a lethal dose. It seems for once being only half a devil has come in handy for me.¡±

    A bluff. The amount of holy water mixed with regular water to kill the imp would do permanent damage to my brain, body, and soul. The study had concluded that there was no ¡®safe¡¯ amount of holy water an Infernal could imbibe, with even trace amounts leading to issues down the line. It had only taken a few thousand test subjects.

    Memories of those results made my stomach revolt again. Dry language could only do so much to disguise the nature of those experiments.

    No one else had ventured into the alley yet. Whatever these two had done to ensure an empty audience, it had done its trick. Unfortunately, it left me with a corpse to dispose of. There were other forms of magic that could have rotted off the Pure-bloods arm. I was certain that is not where the Watch¡¯s mind would go seeing someone¡¯s arm turned to black mush and bone. Rot still tainted the edges, but that was more in line with some alchemical solutions or spells.

    It would have to do. I hardly had the time to chop the arm off.

    I took one of the Pure Blood¡¯s coats, then gathered up as much of the rotted gunk as I could. Setting this on fire wouldn¡¯t work and would probably spread the taint of it for miles on the back of the wind. Instead, I¡¯d dump it in another alley.

    I poked a few more holes in each of them, aided by their own weapons, which I also pocketed. Those would get dumped in the river if I could make the journey, in the underground if I could not. Blood still flowed, not as much as if they were alive, but enough to give the illusion of wounds from a fight.

    The imp¡¯s silence faded by the time I left the alley two minutes later.

    Bah, leaving without taking a bite. How are you going to fuel yourself, little devil? You¡¯ve already done such harm to your body, blinding yourself and cutting yourself off from your magic so. Perhaps I should try to fix it.

    I briefly stilled but dismissed the thought of the Imp trying to change me.

    ¡°I¡¯ll feed you some lamb when we reach a safe place to spend the night,¡± I said into the open air.

    Lamb? Bah! Barely anything in that. Get me some juicy human, raw and dripping with blood.

    ¡°You¡¯re not making it sound very appetizing,¡± I commented, walking back to my original course. Sadly, that was probably the easiest conversation I had with a demon. From what I¡¯d been told at the contract signing, this imp was a favorite for learning Diabolists, meaning that it was an excellent conversationalist among mortals compared to some of its kin.

    Mind you, I was pretty sure half of what had been told to me by Versalicci had been nothing but lies.

    Best to make myself scarce. It would be impossible for anyone not to have heard those screams, and with people spooked from the events of today, their natural antipathy towards the watch might be wearing thin.

    For once luck shined on me and the patrol of Watchmen heading to the alley thought nothing of me quietly walking down the street. I¡¯d put the Pure-blood¡¯s bloodied coat in my bag of belongings, and now would not be drinking from that teapot without an extremely thorough wash, but no one stopped.

    How many years have you kept me asleep? The Imp asked in my mind. Has Versalicci taken over the city?

    ¡°No, quite the opposite. He¡¯s lower than when he made a contract with you and me.¡±

    The Imp cackled inside my head.

    ¡°You know, for some reason, I thought that would actually upset you. Hell being defied and all that.¡±

    Oh, that part is perhaps a little annoying, but never underestimate the Devils. But it¡¯s his arrogance that I laugh at, the boy thinking his schemes could come to success.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what¡¯s funnier, the fact you call Versalicci ¡®the Boy¡¯ or that you just said that about a plan from his father.¡±

    Clearly, the fault lies in the boy¡¯s execution. The Duke¡¯s plan was undoubtedly perfect and only foiled by his progeny¡¯s failures.

    ¡°Kiss-ass,¡± I muttered.

    That was a little too close to another Infernal, who gave me an offended look before increasing her pace, leaving me far behind. Well, if she thought the shoe fit her, who was I to argue?

    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    Still, I kept my mouth sealed even as the Imp laid out all the reasons inside my head how its deference to a Duke of hell differed from mocking the Duke¡¯s son.

    I¡¯d put this thing to sleep after months of preparation, only for it all to be undone in one moment of weakness. A moment of weakness that had probably saved me from¡­something, and I shivered remembering how the Pure-blood had put his hand on me. But now the damned thing was woken up, and I doubted trickery would work a second time to get it back asleep.

    Banishing the creature was out of the question. Ignoring the fact that most forms of banishment would kill me just because of my infernal blood, my soul was bound to the Hells. When my mortal form perished, I¡¯d be heading down there, and banishments didn¡¯t really distinguish between the possessor¡¯s soul and the possessed.

    And to add to my complaints, what have you been doing with this strange bio-magic? It practically permeates your body, rotting. You haven¡¯t been feeding it, have you? I could delay its decay, you know. It¡¯s all magic in the end, and I am co-inhabiting your body with it. Or perhaps hasten its end.

    I shuddered. I could do without the reminders about how deeply the creature was nestled inside me. Or what it could do if it ever found a way to wriggle out of the original summoning contract.

    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t dare,¡± I muttered. We were back on the streets, and while talking to yourself would not draw much attention, my changing back would be violent enough to get everyone on this street to pay attention by the end of it.

    The imp didn¡¯t reply, and I immediately started looking for an exit off of the streets.

    I found another alleyway, which was partially occupied, but the three others using it huddled around the far end of the alley. Sniffing around, this end clued me into why. Someone had been smoking Hopleaf recently. With all the Watch around, no one would want the scent of that drug on their clothes.

    Somewhat protected from the eyes and ears of bystanders, I could raise my voice just a little.

    ¡°You cannot affect the magic, Imp. You are bound by your very existence to not cause me direct harm, and your suggestions tread close to that line.¡±

    I can¡¯t directly choose to harm you permanently, but changing how a natural process would occur? Perhaps as a lesson in how making half-decisions is never the right choice?

    Something twisted in one of my legs. I bit my tongue to keep a yelp of pain inside as something unfurled in there, pushing against the skin.

    Damnations. My cheapness was going to be the death of me. I could not have the disguise fall apart now, not till I found my tools.

    ¡°Imp,¡± I forced out even as my leg cracked, the joint popping and sending daggers of pain up my leg. ¡°Stop, and I¡¯ll pay in the things you love best, pain and souls.¡±

    Pass, the Imp said in my head, cackling as my hoof slid across the ground a half-inch. Fresh keratin came forth, grinding against the stone. My bones burned, tears welling up in my eyes. You¡¯re already in pain. Pain that you need to learn from. And you¡¯ll only eat animals. I want a sentient soul. Devoured with the flesh.

    ¡°There¡¯s more pain. If this is delayed. Not allowed to unfold naturally.¡± I got out. ¡°And I¡¯ll do a dozen rats.¡±

    I couldn¡¯t feel much of the demon¡¯s emotions, but it would ponder on the offer. Had to ponder on that. Its nature was gluttony, and it was starving for years.

    Hrrm. Twenty-five rats. Uncooked. Living.

    My reply got interrupted as my veins traced lines of fire across my leg, trying to enlarge against flesh that wasn¡¯t moving fast enough.

    ¡°Deal,¡± I managed, and the pain faded. Slowly, my leg changed back, flesh pushing back in and shrinking into a more dense form, keratin forcing its way back into my leg. ¡°I¡¯ll get on it tomorrow morning.¡±

    We didn¡¯t agree on any time. I insist on now. There are eight in that heap of trash alone.

    ***

    By the time I stumbled into Hell¡¯s Own, everything ached, I looked quite the mess, and I had half a dozen new scars cutting through my lips thanks to the efforts of several rats not to become food.

    At least the blood was gone. The Imp at least knew the benefits of keeping something of a low profile. Not enough to remove the scars so it could feast on the pain. The fur stuck between my teeth it left there because it was an ass.

    The same went for insisting I was the one channeling the Diabolism so it could close up my wounds. It hurt me to use Diabolism in this body. I¡¯d designed it that way, trying to smother my affinity with the magic, and it would remain that way till the Sculpts reverted.

    My entrance drew attention, but not much. There were only a dozen patrons at the bar and no one at all sitting at the Black Flame¡¯s table. A little luck for me.

    I walked over to the bar with as much grace and dignity as I could muster with the amount of cuts on my face.

    ¡°Tea,¡± I croaked out. The inside of my mouth burned. The rats hadn¡¯t gone down without a fight, and they¡¯d cut the inside of my mouth till I lost count of how many claws and teeth had torn into me.

    ¡°You have fur and blood in between your teeth,¡± Edwards said. ¡°Are you alright?¡±

    ¡°Not really,¡± I said. ¡°Please, some tea. I¡¯ll pay double rate for a good cup of it. Actually, the entire pot, if you could spare it.¡±

    Edwards eyed me more than a little suspiciously. I could hardly blame him, but I knew for a fact people had come in here under stranger circumstances. His curiosity shouldn¡¯t overwhelm a professional sense of privacy.

    If it didn¡¯t, I was hardly going to tell him I was a possessed Diabolist.

    ¡°A pot full of tea,¡± he called back into the kitchen. ¡°And a bottle of mead, as well.¡±

    ¡°No, just tea, please,¡± I insisted.

    ¡°You¡¯re bleeding on the inside of your mouth,¡± He stated. ¡°You don¡¯t need me to tell you the importance of sterilizing that.¡±

    ¡°Mr. Edwards, I have my own methods of that. Now, could you please just get me some tea!¡±

    All the bar was staring at me now, risen up and practically yelling into the bartender¡¯s face. My face flushed. I¡¯d fully lost my grip on the mask, but I did my best to reassemble it.

    Assertive, The Imp hissed in my head. Of course, the wrong place. Maybe practice on someone you can actually beat up. Unless you wish to use me to guide your talents again?

    ¡°Apologies, Mr. Edwards,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯d say it¡¯s been a bad day, but that would just be an excuse. I can leave if I¡¯m making a scene, and my apologies for that as well.¡±

    His eyes studied my face. I wasn¡¯t even bothering with the Sculpts; I didn¡¯t need to. I didn¡¯t need to fake tiredness, regret, or shame.

    ¡°It¡¯s hardly the worst a customer has yelled at me,¡± he said with forced lightness. ¡°Still, I¡¯d ask you don¡¯t do it again. Just tea, then?¡±

    ¡°Tea and perhaps bring the bottle. I¡¯ll pay extra for that as well. And a meal as well, if it¡¯s not too much to ask?¡±

    ¡°The oven¡¯s still burning. Take your pick. As long as you¡¯re paying extra.¡±

    I could hardly say no to that as I turned to look over the menu. The smell alone of cooking meat in the back was already making me salivate, which helped a bit with the pain.

    My stomach ached, mostly from emptiness. The Imp had consumed all the rats, diabolism tearing them apart before they ever reached my stomach. I couldn¡¯t even remember the last time I¡¯d even had a bite of something.

    I looked at the menu. It mostly consisted of fish, the cheapest of the meats. Pork shin and cheek were just behind it, mixed in a stew. That beat out the next likely contender, a watercress sandwich. But even thinking of any meat sent my stomach into conniptions almost as bad as the Imp would inflict.

    It wasn¡¯t fair that it could both force me to consume rats and make my stomach empty, and also that my stomach would revolt at the thought of eating more. I could still taste them, the fur, the blood, the raw flesh. The desperate crawling even as teeth bit down into them.

    Edward shook me out of my thoughts, setting a bottle, a teapot, and a pair of cups down in front of me.

    ¡°Any food?¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­¡± my stomach had not settled at all, nor had the temptation of cooked meat and other foods stopped calling like a siren. ¡°Pork stew, please. Double price?¡±

    ¡°It would be appreciated.¡±

    I counted out the coins, both for that and the drink. There were two others at the bar, keeping their distance after my brief outburst, but not enough that they wouldn¡¯t notice the type of coins I was putting down. It couldn¡¯t be avoided now, partially thanks to my idiocy.

    Never yell at the staff. Edwards was being extremely tolerant of that brief outburst I¡¯d just had. The Hells was I thinking, that wasn¡¯t just the mask crumbling, Malvia and Katheryn both knew better than that!

    As Edwards turned around to get the soup, I grabbed the teapot. It wasn¡¯t too warm as I poured the tea into the cup. I didn¡¯t trust myself to try holding the cup with my hands. Wise, as I lifted it to my lips with trembling fingers.

    Small sips, letting the soothing nature of the drink slowly come over me. The gluttonous imp at least did me the favor of not drinking it in my place. I did my best to ignore the bottle that had been set aside, focusing on the cup and pot.

    I couldn¡¯t risk mead. Not with the Imp awake. The fewer levers related to gluttony I could give it to leverage, the better. If I gave it an inch, I¡¯d end up with five addictions and a learned taste for things I¡¯d deliberately forced out of me.

    I would not be repeating that again. Ever.

    Edwards returned with a bowl of still-steaming soup, potatoes, watercress, onions, and carrots mixed with the pork.

    Draining the cup, I set it down and put another batch of coins on the table.

    ¡°I need a place to stay overnight. Is there a room free?¡±

    ¡°A few,¡± Edwards replied. ¡°In a spot of trouble?¡±

    I nodded, putting another few coins down. After a second, I put down a handful more and gave Edwards a pointed stare. Yes, I¡¯d caused offense, but not enough to extort me.

    ¡°I¡¯ll have someone show you to it soon. How much trouble should I expect to follow you?¡±

    How long till I ruined my standing here like everywhere else? Not long. No use hiding that.

    ¡°Any you can imagine, it will come.¡±

 Chapter 25 - Possessed are no longer allowed in the Hospital

    I needed to come back here and steal this bed.

    My apartment¡¯s bed had hardly been the worst place I¡¯d slept, indeed an improvement over the gutter, the street, or even coffin beds, all of which I¡¯d endured over my years in the Quarter. But this bed was to my apartment¡¯s bed what the apartment¡¯s bed had been to the coffin bed. It even had feathers in the mattress!

    My body felt like giving into the temptation to rest a few minutes more, but I¡¯d slept long enough. I didn¡¯t want to overstay my welcome, and I didn¡¯t want to be late for my appointment today. If I missed this opportunity, who knew when I could find it again?

    By the time I was up and dressed in my only change of clothing, there was a swift knock on the door.

    It took a second to remove the chair I¡¯d wedged in there, then to undo the lock and latch. Edwards was on the other side, with a platter and a teapot.

    ¡°Tea?¡± the bartender offered.

    I gave it a suspicious look. ¡°Not free, I¡¯m assuming.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d be right in that regard. And double the usual price as well.¡±

    This better be the end of that. If I showed up here in a week and he tried charging double¡­well I supposed I wouldn¡¯t be showing up as Katheryn Falara. It wouldn¡¯t matter.

    The advance payment from Lord Montague grew smaller and smaller as I counted a pair out of the swiftly slimming coin purse. I passed them to Edwards, and we both sat down at a small table.

    ¡°I¡¯m assuming you don¡¯t always visit guests every morning?¡± I asked, while sipping from the cup.

    ¡°No. And normally I wouldn¡¯t bother with this either. But because you¡¯re a good customer, and you paid upfront and didn¡¯t sneak out the window overnight, I¡¯m going to give you some advice.¡±

    I took a sip of the tea, considering the bartender. I didn¡¯t imagine he personally woke up every guest, so this was something he felt was important. ¡°I¡¯m waiting, Mr. Edwards.¡±

    ¡°You should sneak out the window. Or the back door, but probably the window. Right now.¡±

    Ah, joy, that kind of advice. ¡°I am going to presume there are people downstairs waiting for me? I hope they haven¡¯t been forceful.¡±

    ¡°No, none of them have been yet, but there¡¯s a good ten members of the watch down there claiming they¡¯ve been posted here till the marches stop. Might actually be true, but Voltar¡¯s partner Dawes is also down there, ordering breakfast.¡±

    I frowned. Edwards was right. The Watch might be here for the marches, assuming they expected more to take place. Dawes¡¯ presence¡­

    ¡°Mr. Edwards, how could you know that Mr. Voltar and Mr. Dawes might be after me?¡±

    The Bartender gave me an abashed grin. ¡°Tolman talks. He let slip yesterday evening that you¡¯ve been caught up in some mystery of theirs?¡±

    ¡°That I have,¡± I replied. Godsdmanit Tolman, what the hells were you thinking?

    Oh, which one is Tolman? Is it Quelvan? Marchtes? Juliana? Kassera? Dalxian? Sounds like the trust placed in them was mistaken.

    I ignored the imp for the most part, although it hadn¡¯t slept when those last three names had passed. It must be a trick, pretending it still thought they were alive. Nothing about the suppression should have touched the creature¡¯s memories.

    ¡°Mr. Edwards, I realize I¡¯ve not been the most pleasant patron as of late.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± he agreed. ¡°Although the coins helped ease that some.¡±

    ¡°Could I get a favor?¡±

    ¡°If it¡¯s within reason, you can have a favor. Just not asking me to fight the Watch. Or stalling them. I do not want the Watch deciding I¡¯m a person of interest.¡±

    ¡°It shouldn¡¯t result in too much attention. I may require some help to leave if it isn¡¯t too much to ask?¡±

    ¡°Depends on the help. And it¡¯ll cost you.¡±

    ¡°Of course it will. I could hardly expect anything else. I suppose the first thing is, do you have a spare change of clothes in my size?¡±

    ***

    When this entire mess was over, I was going to head to a clothing store and spend two hours inside.

    The spare clothes had ended up being a mixture of yellow and red remnants of two different outfits, which a hooded cloak mostly covered. Otherwise, I might have risked just having the Watch take me in. My last remaining outfit was on its way out, and hopefully, I could pick it back up later.

    One barmaid who¡¯d been red-skinned and about my current size had been willing to face a bit of danger in return for coin. She¡¯d wear my old clothes and walk around the block, returning in a couple of minutes¡ªall the time I needed.

    Not all of them would leave to follow the barmaid, of course. Just enough to make slipping out easier. The barmaid went out the front, and after half a minute I went out the back window, ready to drop into the alleyway.

    She¡¯d claim I approached, then paid her to change clothes after delivering breakfast, leaving Edwards out of it. Oh, some suspicion would fall on him, but not enough that he hadn¡¯t agreed to do this little stunt to draw attention away from my exit.

    There were people watching the alleyways, of course. And also people watching the rooftops. I couldn¡¯t avoid being spotted leaving. What I could do was to avoid being caught, and maybe even tailed. I wasn¡¯t doing anything illegal, but I could not afford delays and I also could not afford to be caught. Not today of all days.

    When I¡¯d scheduled this, I hadn¡¯t expected it to have this much importance. Circumstances were forcing my hand now.

    Goodbyes would have to be said today and needed to be said before I went through with leaving.

    Hanging down from the ledge first, I dropped, hoofs hitting the ground. Within seconds I was out of the alley, running.

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    ***

    The Silver Street of Liberation had seen better days.

    The cobblestone highway that was the route the then-Shining Princess and her forces had taken during the last battle for Avernon must have been quite the sight back in the day. I¡¯d read accounts of the entire street¡¯s surface gleaming silver, created from the melted, transmuted bodies of Her Profane Majesty¡¯s royal guard division.

    However, flesh transmuted to melted silver made for a terrible road, so they¡¯d had it removed and settled for an alchemical substance that looked like silver. No one had replaced that coating in a while, so in worn spots, you could see the cobbles underneath.

    I kept to the outskirts, away from the carriages. Traffic control on the highway was better than most, which meant only a tiny chance of being run over. They weren¡¯t even the most dangerous things on the roadway.

    The ground shook as it passed, each step making the earth jolt for yards around it. A loose ring of people in red and silver robes of the artificer guilds stood around it, both to keep people away from it and probably guide it.

    Steam hissed from eight pipes mounted on its back, and from its joints as well, spewing into the sky. Eight thick metal legs were in constant motion, only four on the ground at any one time. The body resembled a drider, a large humanoid torso in the center of a spider-like body of metal. Probably what had inspired the design to begin with.

    It moved slowly, which was a surprise. I¡¯d seen a similar device do a race against a horse and keep pace the entire track. Well, it did well until the track curved. Then the automaton plowed through a wall instead.

    I eyed the circle of artificers again. Were they testing keeping it at a walking pace and under directions?

    A pipe emitted a burst of steam accompanied by a squeal. Everyone else in the vicinity and I decided the artificers could use more space. Hundreds of feet of space, in fact.

    The automation was out of my sight before I heard wood being smashed and yelling. Hopefully, all it had done was smash a coach without hurting anyone inside.

    A clock chimed in the distance, possibly the Astrologist¡¯s Tower. It chimed twice before going silent.

    Two in the afternoon? Four hours had passed, too much time, but I¡¯d wanted to lose as many tails as I could. If any still followed me, they were too good for me to spot. That was fine. Katheryn Falara had legitimate business here. It was only going where I would need to lose them.

    Mind you, it wasn¡¯t hard to track me. I was perhaps the only Infernal in the mass of people for fifty feet in any direction.

    A hooded cloak only did so much. I was getting glances that turned into stares as I walked along the side of the road. People kept their distance, hands in their pockets to protect wallets and coin purses. As long as they kept to that, there wouldn¡¯t be any problems.

    Honestly, I was a little glad to see that response. It was the usual for this area, which meant those marchers hadn¡¯t shifted the city¡¯s overall mood. At least not yet, given enough time I had no doubts times outside the Quarter would become worse. I hadn¡¯t stuck around the Quarter to see if they were marching again.

    I took a left onto Landsmen, the narrower street a little more cramped. I took some amusement with how far some went to stay away from me on the more crowded street.

    Not for long. My destination towered ahead, five stories tall and looking like a combination of a church and a hospital. These days, it could claim to be the latter.

    St. Lanian¡¯s started as a hospital run and later dedicated to a priestess who cared for the poor and downtrodden. Over time, it had grown larger, especially as various nobles wanted to be seen as helping the poor. More donations meant more sway with the hospital, until eventually, St. Lanian¡¯s clientele became much more exclusive.

    Oh, there were hospitals dedicated in the saint¡¯s name who did her original work, and there¡¯d been some hoopla when a paladin channeling the Saint¡¯s divine spirit had castigated the hospital as having abandoned the ideals she valued. It had taken some of the shine off the hospital, if not the name.

    The front entrances were bustling as always, mostly with visitors and staff, although the occasional carriage came up with patients. I went to the side entrance instead. Trying to prove to people I actually was on the approved visitor list took time. So I¡¯d just bribed the usual guard for the side entrance at this time of day.

    By the time I got there though, it was closed, which was a poor sign. I¡¯d taken too long to get here, which meant not only dealing with hospital staff I didn¡¯t usually interact with, it meant something far worse. Some of my mother¡¯s relatives might be visiting. Joy.

    I usually scheduled around their usual visiting hours, only meeting once every few months to handle the finances. As far as they knew, I was a professional associate of their sister¡¯s never to be sufficiently damned child, entrusted by her with money to help pay for half of the fees to keep their sister treated here.

    It was a perfectly awkward arrangement for all involved. They knew that the only reason Mother was being treated in such a prestigious establishment was the money of the family member they¡¯d exiled, and I had to deal with the family members who¡¯d consigned Mother and me to the Infernal Quarter. Pleasant interactions every time, just with an undercurrent threatening to drag the entire conversation to the depths to drown at the slightest misstep.

    It also meant I would be dealing with the front entrance after all.

    ***

    Nearly an hour had passed before I¡¯d convinced the gate guards I had legitimate business inside the hospital and was not some manner of delivery person, servant, or other member of the lower class who shouldn¡¯t dare track mud into the great St. Lanian¡¯s.

    The fact I had utterly mud-free hooves didn¡¯t matter. I¡¯d resisted the urge to lift the most obnoxious of the guard¡¯s coin purse with my tail. It had been right out in the open! But I knew who would be the first on the list of suspects.

    I¡¯d thought at least past the guards, it would get easier. It had not.

    ¡°Are you sure you aren¡¯t the latest coffin delivery person?¡± the nurse asked me again, peering over thin wire-rimmed spectacles down at me. ¡°Mr. Ferguson has the most peculiar sense of humor, and this matches a joke he pulled last year.¡±

    Oh, yes, the grand joke of an Infernal being on the list of approved patient visitors.

    I¡¯d arrived so late an entire shift change had taken place. Which meant nurses who didn¡¯t know me, and worse, had not been bribed by me.

    ¡°I am quite sure I¡¯m not here to deliver coffins. I am here to see Bao Xang, as the representative of her daughter, Lily Xang, to make sure her care is being maintained. If you doubt me, you can check with Dr. Martins.¡±

    Not that he liked me very much, but I¡¯d trust his professionalism to not pretend I was a deliverer of coffins.

    One nurse made a gesture in the corner of my eye, one easily recognizable. There were only so many signs on the streets showing when you thought someone had taken all leave of their senses. I turned my head towards the movement, enjoying the sight of the nurse pretending to do something else.

    ¡°I can assure you, I¡¯m not here because of a joke. There should be a K. Falara listed as an approved guest?¡± I asked.

    The nurse at least went to check the patient listings instead of yelling for security to throw me out. ¡°There is a K. Falara listed, but do you have any way we can identify you as her?¡±

    Ah, the joys of being on the reverse side of the very thing I¡¯d demanded from Gregory Montague. I was quite sure she would not be demanding this of most people who walked in here, but maybe that was just paranoia speaking.

    ¡°Dr. Martins can confirm who I am, if you could just fetch him for a second?¡±

    ¡°Dr. Martins is busy with a patient,¡± the nurse informed me. ¡°If you insist, you can take a seat till he¡¯s finished with his current patient. If not, I will have someone escort you out of the building.¡±

    Well, I had no doubts about how friendly that escort would be. I resigned myself to waiting even longer. There were other things I needed to do, like tracking down my three boxes, but trying to force this issue would be the wrong move. Even if their divine sponsor had long ago withdrawn support from this place, they would have holy water to use on me.

    ¡°Miss Falara?¡± a too-familiar voice asked.

    I froze, then spun around, drawing on my Sculpts. The mask would need to be perfect today.

    ¡°Mister Xang!¡± I greeted him, turning as I pulled on tendons to force a smile. Gingerly, it should be made to look more natural no matter the urge to snap it into place.

    Even if I was deserting this identity, there would be no hints to him who I actually was. To call the results of that discovery inconvenient if it happened would be an understatement.

    Liu Xang was tall, perhaps six and a half feet tall, with a scholar¡¯s build, and was dressed in a not-so-fancy suit. He wore a scarf despite the warm weather, to hide noose scars I wasn¡¯t supposed to know he had. He returned my smile, warm eyes peering over a set of spectacles. They wouldn¡¯t be so warm if he knew who I really was.

    He also was my uncle.

 Chapter 26 - Two Masks, One Conversation

    It didn¡¯t take long for Liu Xang to talk the nurses into letting me visit with him. Being a distant descendant of a Companion of the Shining Princess came with some perks, even after this many generations removed. The name had the weight to get the foot in the door, and both politeness and being human were enough to carry him into convincing the nurses I was actually Katheryn Falara.

    I waited outside in the hall for his visit to conclude, doing my best to ignore the quiet sounds of him talking to the patient.

    It was safer calling her the patient. I couldn¡¯t let any emotion show. To Katheryn Falara, Bao Xang was just the mother of an acquaintance she had been hired to check in on and manage the funds that helped with her care, and specifically kept her out of the hands of the Xang family.

    Damn Liu for showing up here. Another thing to cast against his name, along with a slew of minor grudges and slights, and one that would never leave my mind.

    Her stay here at St. Lanian¡¯s was half-financed by said family as well, but Katheryn had been approached many times about transferring custody over. They¡¯d been unhappy at being refused, but it turns out disowning people had certain legal consequences. Not having the first claim on guardianship was one of them.

    Her Majesty¡¯s government also helped once I¡¯d let slip that the reason for Bao Xang¡¯s condition was likely a working of Diabolism. Something the doctors would have found swiftly enough on their own, but in those early days when the family had threatened to use the courts, time had been of the essence. And a matter of diabolism made this something Her Majesty¡¯s government was definitely interested in.

    Of course, their specialists didn¡¯t talk to the hospital¡¯s, who didn¡¯t talk to the Xangs, who didn¡¯t talk to me. Legally, all parties were obligated to inform the others when a breakthrough regarding the Curse had been reached.

    Legal obligations only went so far, but it was something.

    The door opened, Liu walking out looking both saddened and relieved. Past him I could see a sole form lying on the bed, motionless. By her side were several vases of flowers, increasingly wilted the older they got. Sent by me as Lily, the most I could risk publicly.

    Bao looked the same as she had the past several years, if older. Probably fewer wrinkles and other signs of aging than if she had been able to wake up three years ago.

    Whatever the working on her was, it didn¡¯t stop her from aging, even if it handled other physical needs and conditions. No muscle atrophy, no slow loss of body fat from the diet she was being kept on, none of that.

    Suspicious is what that was. Diabolism was never that kind in its curses unless there was a directing intelligence.

    Liu sighed as he closed the door, face heavy.

    ¡°Expecting something different?¡± I asked, looking up at him.

    Next identity I was picking, I was making myself taller. I¡¯d gone shorter to distance myself as far as possible from my previous appearance, but if it meant dealing with other Xang¡¯s I¡¯d be saving myself so much neck pain. Every single member of my mother¡¯s family, and myself, were tall for humans, almost to an inhuman extent.

    My mother has always claimed Oni blood, which might help explain their issues with anything vaguely diabolic.

    ¡°No,¡± Liu said. ¡°It is still just difficult to see her like this.¡±

    ¡°Always difficult to see a family member when they are down, Mr. Xang.¡±

    My expression was just the right amount of respectful sympathy. Six months of lying low while you did long-term Biosculpting left you plenty of time to practice skills.

    ¡°I did not realize you would be visiting at this time. You usually time them for different times than those of the family.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s my opinion that the family of the patient should have privacy,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ve been delayed multiple times, partially by business, partially by other circumstances. I can leave if you wish?¡±

    ¡°No, it is fine. I actually wished to talk with you, if you have the time?¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± I asked. My old family had at the beginning shown Katheryn Falara quite a bit of distrust from several of them, prejudice from the others. And all contact had mostly ceased after it was clear they could not wrestle custody of my mother for themselves. Liu had remained perfectly polite, but had shown no genuine interest interest in the affairs of Katheryn Falara. This had to be related to Mother or me as Lily.

    ¡°We could meet somewhere else, if this is discomforting to you,¡± Liu said.

    ¡°No, here is fine,¡± I said, since Katheryn wouldn¡¯t have any issues talking next to my mother¡¯s unconscious form. I knit and pulled carefully on Sculpts, managing my expression. ¡°Your family has just never felt the need to discuss anything with me, not to be impolite.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Liu confessed. ¡°Somewhat unfairly. You are not the person they see the few times you¡¯ve met. But something has occurred that requires we consult you.¡±

    My heart stilled. There were a few things they were obligated by contract to inform me of as Lily¡¯s representative, and since mother was still here and alive¡­

    ¡°You¡¯ve made progress on the curse?¡± I asked, trying to keep the tone of desperation out of my voice.

    From Liu¡¯s expression, I hadn¡¯t been successful. He mulled on that for an instant before his expression turned sorrowful.

    ¡°No, we have not,¡± he confessed. ¡°I will not lie when I say you right now seemed more enthusiastic than many of my family for this. Many of them see it as a lost cause by this point.¡±

    ¡°Ah,¡± I said as neutrally as I could manage as my heart plunged. Trying to cover my tracks, I continued. ¡°Lily¡¯s a good friend. I was just hoping I could offer good news the next time I saw her. It¡¯s not an attempt to wrest custodianship away from me again, is it?¡±

    Liu¡¯s face scrunched up in distaste, although I didn¡¯t know if that was about the family¡¯s attempts or me being much more blunt about what those ¡®offers¡¯ they¡¯d made were.

    ¡°No. Although if Lily understood the reason, she would hopefully change her mind,¡± he said, expression grim.

    ¡°Well, as her representative, I would be happy to convey any relevant information to her about it,¡± I said, a small smile I didn¡¯t need to fake at all on my face.

    The placid expression must have needled Liu, as his response had an undercurrent of irritation I could only recall from childhood.

    ¡°No. It is a family affair. Even if I could say anything, I would not. I intend no offense, it is simply something kept in family.¡±

    ¡°I understand,¡± I said, the smile now a faked one. Katheryn Falara didn¡¯t have a family. Malvia Harrow only had a mother. Lily Xang, shed at twelve years, knew exactly what he meant. Damnations, what were they hiding? I did not need more things heaped onto my plate.

    ¡°I wanted to discuss Lily, about speaking with her. Not just about her mother, but other things she must know.¡±

    The temptation to just leave beckoned. Head out and then sneak back at a later time to say goodbye if necessary. But if this turned out to be important later and blowing off my uncle would cause me problems down the line¡­I sighed.

    ¡°I have other things to do, but I can spare a bit of time. Not much. Is there a place we can sit down at least?¡±

    It turned out that the hospital staff had a small waiting area complete with provided tea and snacks for welcome visitors. One of us qualified as that and being at his side made getting into it easy enough, just at the cost of some side-eye from the staff.

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    There were wood-paneled, detailed booths complete with a curtain, well-appointed benches, and upon closer inspection a silencing charm meant to keep conversations private. Prior experience taught that the proprietor usually had a way to listen in still. Who knew if the hospital did?

    ¡°Very fancy,¡± I commented. ¡°If you pulled the curtain close, I¡¯d doubt this was even a hospital.¡±

    ¡°It is strange,¡± Liu agreed.

    I didn¡¯t reply, taking a few moments to enjoy the hospital¡¯s tea. Not as good as the kind brewed by Lady Karsin, or in my teapot. Albeit, the teapot was an acquired taste, considering what it had probably picked up from being in an alchemist¡¯s apartment.

    ¡°Do you know how to get word to Lily?¡± He asked me.

    I took another sip of the tea, savoring the taste, dipping my head down so the hat covered as much of my face as possible. Liu¡¯s tone was guarded, any emotion carefully hidden away¡ªif any emotion existed. The earlier hints may have been before he mastered the current mask he wore, or the hinted emotions may have been the mask themselves.

    I found it very fitting that my family so often mirrored Versalicci. It made sense in far too many ways.

    ¡°Unfortunately, I haven¡¯t heard from your niece since we last talked,¡± I replied. ¡°I know we¡¯ve discussed this before, but we are not that close as friends, your niece and I. This is me fulfilling a request of hers.¡±

    Nothing there was a lie, although the wording was very careful. Liu remained quiet, and as that silence stretched on, the urge to fill it proved too much.

    ¡°I have more to talk about than checking in on my client¡¯s mother,¡± I said. ¡°Circumstances may force me to take my leave of the city soon. I will probably leave the account in your hands and yours alone.¡±

    He frowned. ¡°I know other members of my family have not been the kindest, but I assure you, they wouldn¡¯t try to pilfer from it.¡±

    Your assurances mean nothing. ¡°While I can¡¯t consult with my client, I¡¯m sure she¡¯d consider you the most trustworthy person to give control of the account. Albeit with much talk about how that doesn¡¯t mean she trusts you.¡±

    He chuckled at that. ¡°From what little time I¡¯ve spent with her, it sounds like you know my niece well.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps if you spent more time with her, you¡¯d get a better grasp of that,¡± I replied, trying to keep the ice out of my voice.

    The smile on his face disappeared. ¡°Yes, well, some things can not be repeated. I briefly knew Lily before circumstances forced her and her mother to move to the Infernal District.¡±

    ¡°Really? What circumstances would those be?¡± I asked and was rewarded with an uncomfortable look on Liu¡¯s face. Would he choose the coward¡¯s way once again?

    He didn¡¯t disappoint. ¡°The only reason I commented is that some in the family have theories about the relationship between you two.¡±

    It didn¡¯t take long to put together what that meant. ¡°I¡¯m very flattered you¡¯d think so, but no. While Lily is a very pleasant woman, my relationship is nothing like that.¡±

    That startled him. ¡°Lily? Pleasant?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± I said with a mock frown. ¡°Oh, sometimes she can be difficult, but not any worse than most people. Why have you had a different experience?¡±

    He seemed reluctant to answer but said, ¡°Not when she was younger, but the one time we met when she was an adult, it was¡­difficult.¡±

    ¡°Well, I can only speak to my business dealings with her and our brief meetings outside of that. I do know that she has made it very clear she wants as little to do with you as possible. Part of why she retained me to keep an eye on her mother while she¡­went away for a while. What little I¡¯ve heard doesn¡¯t paint a pretty little picture of your family, I must admit.¡±

    He grimaced so well I couldn¡¯t tell if it was an act or not. ¡°The situation behind Bao and Lily¡¯s departure is perhaps more complicated than Lily would have made it seem.¡±

    So he would tell the story after all. Or at least a version of it.

    ¡°Everyone has their own version of the truth,¡± I said.

    ¡°You must wonder sometimes, I imagine?¡± he asked me.

    ¡°I try not to pry into information my clients don¡¯t directly give me. And your niece is very clear on what information she considers private. Now, if others were to tell me of their own volition, that¡¯s something else.¡±

    Truthfully, I wanted to know precisely what lie they were peddling over what had occurred. Liu¡¯s face scrunched up as if contemplating some great family secret he was about to share. Hells, maybe to him, it was.

    ¡°My sister caused most of the trouble. She practiced in a dark art, against the wishes of her family. She was always wilful as a child, even more so when she grew older. Stories of our great-great-grandfather and his adventures with Her Majesty only encouraged her. She went on adventures, with people more foolish than she. It was there that she started practicing the arts of demons and devils. Back when the licenses were more widespread. And she refused to stop after the government revoked it.¡±

    ¡°Not shocking if what Lily hinted to me is true,¡± I commented. ¡°I always wondered how her mother ended up in the Quarter, and with an Infernal daughter. Diabolism would do the trick.¡±

    Mind you, half of what he said was lies. Mother hadn¡¯t been practicing Diabolism at the time. Couldn¡¯t have, not with the poison of her greatest achievement and worst mistake still in her veins and needing to be vented.

    ¡°You do not favor diabolism, do you?¡± he asked me.

    I resisted the urge to snort. It would be rude, and aggravating, but listening to him spout the same superstitions about Infernals and Diabolism that I expected to hear from yesterday¡¯s marchers ran so much against the image he loved to project.

    ¡°Infernals are made of diabolism, but I hold no special regard for it, or respect, Mr. Xang. All living beings are made of water, but that doesn¡¯t guarantee an affinity to the water, does it?¡±

    Fancy words, Malvia. Lying in all of them, of course.

    I did not roll my eyes despite the urge. The Imp had mostly been quiet after the first twenty minutes when needling me while Liu visited my mother had failed to provoke a response.

    ¡°Some in my family think Lily did this,¡± he said, then snorted derisively. ¡°They let much cloud their thoughts in this matter. My sister likely messed with things she should not have and brought this on herself. Perhaps even trying to summon that fool husband of hers again.¡±

    Inwardly, I bristled. He wasn¡¯t entirely wrong. I couldn¡¯t deny that. I¡¯d been the one who¡¯d found her in our shared apartment right after I¡¯d joined the Black Flame. The entire thing stunk of sulfur, a smashed-apart ritual circle on the floor, her unconscious nearby. But not for the thing that was my father, never for that thing.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure Lily appreciates that you don¡¯t suspect her,¡± I said. ¡°Also, she is a half-devil, then?¡±

    That expression of shock had to be faked. There was no way in which one could accidentally drop that little fact in an age where most Infernals were from diabolic magic or were descendants of the half-diabolic.

    ¡°Perhaps I¡¯ve said too much. But she is not suspected by me. The girl loves her mother, that I never doubted. Well, until she has refused to see her ever since she put Bao here. Perhaps even that tie has been strained to the breaking point.¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say she¡¯s never visited her mother since then. She¡¯s practically told me she has several times, and I don¡¯t doubt her.¡±

    Liu raised an eyebrow, looking at the door. ¡°I talk to the attendants here. There is no record of her ever visiting.¡±

    I smiled politely. ¡°Speaking from experience, while her appearances inside this city are brief, it would not shock me if she found her way in somehow. Were there any other questions you had?¡±

    He frowned, putting the teacup down and considering my mother. ¡°Let her know we must talk the next time you see her.¡±

    ¡°Well, as I said, that might be awhile, both on my end and hers.¡±

    ¡°Whenever it is. We need to talk.¡±

    That wouldn¡¯t be soon, if I had my way, but I could hardly refuse the request. ¡°I¡¯ll talk to her. But I can¡¯t promise she¡¯ll listen.¡±

    ¡°No one can do that,¡± Liu said a little bitterly. ¡°I apologize for taking up so much of your time. I imagine you wish to return and check on my sister before you leave?¡±

    ¡°It is required for the contract,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯ll only be a few minutes, and you can watch if you wish.¡±

    To my annoyance, he did want to watch. Probably out of concern, which I did my best not to be insulted by. Even if I wasn¡¯t family, what did he think I was going to do to her?

    I went through the motions, checking through the notes the doctor had left, checking her pulse myself, a few other vital signs. Nothing of interest showed. She was still asleep to the world and seemingly would be. If whatever Diabolism was affecting her would burn out, there were no signs thus far.

    I did my best not to look at my mother¡¯s face throughout this. After the events of the last few days, the fewer ways I could let the mask slip, the better.

    For the same reasons, I could not ask him for some time alone with her. It was bad enough to bribe the staff and have them wonder why I wanted time alone with the patient.

    ¡°Mr. Xang, unless your address has changed, I believe I know where you live,¡± I said as he shut the door. ¡°I¡¯ll inform you the next time your niece is in town and ready to talk with you.¡±

    ¡°Not just when she¡¯s in town?¡± he asked.

    ¡°No, and not even if you pay me. I don¡¯t turn on friends for clients, or clients for other clients. ¡°

    He nodded, then after a few seconds, I realized he was waiting for me to leave first.

    I think you may need to look over your shoulder more often now, Malvia. See if any more family from your mother¡¯s side are following you.

    I ignored the imp. They didn¡¯t know. Others knew, more than I expected, but they didn¡¯t know. If they had, they wouldn¡¯t be respecting the court¡¯s decision when simply revealing my identity could overturn it. I knew my worth to that family.

    My mother would not have been disowned if she had simply let them toss me alone in the Quarter.

    ¡°It was a pleasant meeting, as per usual Mr. Xang,¡± I lied. ¡°I look forward to our next one, however long that may take.¡±

    I looked back at the door for just a brief second.

    Good bye for now. I will be back. And I will not let you fall into the hands of your family. Even if they claim they can break your curse.

    It was the best goodbye I could manage for now, and I inclined my head towards Liu as I left, hoping it would be a while before we met again¡ªpreferably for weeks, if I could make sure our meetings never overlapped. Doing the official legal work to transfer custodianship would be difficult, but not impossible. It would mean one appearance as Lily Xang to approve the entire thing, which would be annoying.

    Malvia Harrow predated my teachings in Biosculpting, and while Lily Xang was not under any kind of suspicion, Malvia Harrow both was and looked exactly like Lily Xang.

    Another potential mess, but at least one that I could save for later.

    Of course, I had one other piece of business to do here, and spotting my friend Tully, the side entrance guard, was going to make it possible.

    Tully was one of the better kinds of friends, the one who was friends with gold and whoever was the first to offer it. Some strange mix of honor and bribery that made sure once you bought him, he wouldn¡¯t turn on you.

    It was a good thing when you needed to lose some tails, even if it meant being sealed inside a coffin.

 Chapter 27 - Rooftop Conversation

    It was never easy to walk the rooftops. It meant walking across one roof, climbing down, and then finding a way onto the next roof. Heavens and Hells help you if that next roof had tiles or anything else that could break and make noise. When people were walking effortlessly across roofs, it usually meant magic was involved, magic that cost money.

    To add to the complications, it had been years since I¡¯d done this, and it had been in a completely different body.

    Not helping was how much I carried. I¡¯d left my teapot and other surviving belongings with Edwards, but I¡¯d kept my saber, my pistol, a lantern, a hip pouch with empty vials, and two empty bags with straps looped around my shoulder. Not the most awkward load, but with how out of practice I was.

    My hoof slipped, and I bit back a curse as a piece of roof slid off.

    And another tile gone. How are you doing this when you¡¯re even smaller than your old body? Perhaps some of my attitudes have stuck around with you.

    The temptation to spit back about how Biosculpting worked, and that I was not a glutton was almost more powerful than the need to stay as quiet as I could be.

    Besides, I had other things on my mind.

    I was being trailed. Poorly. Very poorly, as the veritable crash of thunder from someone behind me stepping on a loose tile sounded for the fifth time in the last half hour.

    Me being out of practice and in a body not suited for this probably meant that some people might think an enormous cat or dog was walking across their roof. Some with more practiced knowledge of the streets might have gone to make sure all their upper windows were secure.

    Anyone living under the rooftops the two idiots tailing me had gone through probably thought a dragon had just landed on top of their house. Maybe they even started tearing the roof off and were about to devour their children.

    Okay, I exaggerated a little. A gargoyle then. A very large gargoyle.

    I had a hooded lantern on me, currently shut. No need to give anyone down on the streets the idea someone was prowling around these rooftops.

    With only a single, very slim moon out, it made seeing where I was going difficult. I¡¯d taken too long to get out of that damn coffin. Tully had been too thorough with his hammer and nails.

    It also raised the question of how my tails were tracking me. It wasn¡¯t a lightless night, but one of them must have a way of peering through the dark better than me. Which, considering the number of races that had better nightvision than humans, didn¡¯t narrow the list by much.

    I¡¯d been waiting for a chance to deal with them, and the current building, only a couple of stories tall and with a large chimney, provided the perfect opportunity.

    I quickly put the hooded lantern down by the chimney. This was going to be difficult. I clambered down as if to climb down, keeping my hands gripping the edge of the roof. I shimmied over to where the chimney would block the sight of me getting back up on the roof.

    My arms burned and almost immediately, one of my hands slipped off the edge of the roof.

    Oh right. Falara was much weaker than Malvia, and I hadn¡¯t kept in the best of shape. I was stronger than I should be for my size but not used to doing this in a body this small. I¡¯d done this at Hell¡¯s Own, but there had been railings to grip there. Biting my tongue, I tried to get my loose hand back on the side of the roof. Two times I failed, but the third time I managed it and pulled myself up. I got up just in time.

    One of the skulking figures hurried towards where I¡¯d passed through, clearly trying to catch sight of where I¡¯d dropped to the ground below. As he neared, I opened up my lantern, the light blinded him and revealing his face to me.

    ¡°Hello Tommy!¡± I called out cheerily, then kicked him right in the groin.

    The watchmen collapsed, a tide of verbal filth coming out of his mouth as he convulsed on the rooftop.

    ¡°I guess you not being able to turn it off wasn¡¯t just part of your cover,¡± I remarked, pulling my flintlock out.

    Amna froze as I pointed it at her. The dwarf had been slower than her taller human partner, so she stood half a rooftop away. The light from my lantern was just enough to make out who it was. If any other Watch lurked in the darkness, I couldn¡¯t see them.

    ¡°It¡¯s half a rooftop, it¡¯s dark, and I can¡¯t see in it unlike some of my race, so it¡¯s decent odds I¡¯ll miss,¡± I informed her. ¡°Still, if I were you, I wouldn¡¯t risk it. I¡¯m a very good shot when I¡¯m motivated. Well, what a strange coincidence to find you two fellow prisoners of the Watch here on a rooftop, following me.¡±

    Amna held her hands up placatingly, not moving at all. For now.

    ¡°Listen, clearly the guy who hired us to do this really, really didn¡¯t properly inform us about who you were, so if you don¡¯t mind we¡¯ll just give you his name-¡±

    ¡°Saw you at the march,¡± I interrupted her. ¡°In uniform. Didn¡¯t see him, but I really doubt whichever officer is running this would let you bring an outsider in. Also, because I can add numbers and am not an idiot.¡±

    Amna went quiet and beneath me Tommy paused in his expulsion of verbal filth to sigh.

    ¡°Well, shit, that¡¯s the whole fucking thing blown then, Amna. Captain¡¯s gonna ream both our asses over this.¡±

    ¡°Here¡¯s a wonderful trick of the trade, if you¡¯re in the secret police business. Don¡¯t do actual police work where your suspects may actually see you. It tends to give the entire game away.¡±

    ¡°We know,¡± Amna protested. ¡°High command wanted all hands handling those idiots.¡±

    ¡°Well, I suppose it was a rather large march. Easy to tell why they¡¯d want everyone handling it.¡± I leaned down, putting the lantern on the floor. Keeping my gun on Amna, I drew a knife with my free hand. Below me, Tommy stilled as I pressed the knife against his throat.

    ¡°Is that really necessary?¡± Amna protested.

    ¡°Consider it insurance against you two. Or however many watchmen are also here tonight, watching from a distance. Contrary to appearances, I don¡¯t actually want anyone dead, so any additional incentive I can add to prevent that from occurring is to everyone¡¯s benefit.¡± I did leave some space between my knife and Tommy¡¯s throat. ¡°If someone is going to kill me, better make it a headshot and hope gravity favors you.¡±

    ¡°Fucking foulhorn,¡± my hostage gasped underneath me. ¡°You don¡¯t let me go, I¡¯ll make sure to find you in some back alley and-¡±

    ¡°Enough of that,¡± I snapped, pressing the knife to the flesh. ¡°Do you have no self-preservation instinct at all? Because after today, I am not in the mood for slurs, you flat-cap fuck.¡±

    Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

    He stilled, mouth shutting.

    ¡°He really can¡¯t turn it off,¡± Amna pleaded.

    ¡°I¡¯m getting that impression,¡± I said sardonically. ¡°Okay, so again, I don¡¯t want to kill anyone. Many people have been testing me on that, mostly by attacking me first. Not that you¡¯ll ever get me to admit that in court. So what we¡¯re going to do instead is I ask some questions, since I feel I¡¯m owed some answers for once this week, and then we¡¯ll decide how to get out of this mess. Sound good to you two? Nod, don¡¯t speak.¡±

    Mutely, the both of them nodded, and I allowed myself a brief grin. Oh, I felt like a villain out of a cheap book or one of those serial stories published in the papers, but it simply felt nice not to be entirely on the back foot. Mostly by forcing others onto their back foot.

    I might be a bit sadistic. Maybe a little. That or just worn out with everything that had happened.

    ¡°Excellent! First question. Why are you after me? All the details. Don¡¯t leave any of it out.¡±

    Amna hesitated. ¡°I might not know all of it.¡±

    ¡°Captain calls it need to fucking know,¡± Tommy said. ¡°We¡¯re fed a diet of shit and nothing before heading out, most times. Just names to tail.¡±

    ¡°Then tell me what you do know,¡± I replied. ¡°Full accounting, maybe even some speculation. Also, which captain?¡±

    ¡°Henry Malstein,¡± Tommy answered quickly.

    ¡°Tommy!¡± Amna hissed, staring daggers at her colleague.

    ¡°Fuck him, he doesn¡¯t have a knife to his throat, and he¡¯s not the one holding one to mine!¡±

    ¡°Not Laura Forester?¡± I asked with a frown. She¡¯d been the leader of what Versalicci considered the most effective of the Watch¡¯s many ¡°special¡± units five years ago.

    ¡°Forester? No. They hate each other, especially because Captain Malstein¡¯s been taking recruits that Major Forester considers hers.¡±

    I sighed. ¡°Alright. I¡¯m not interested in your inter-departmental squabbling. What did Captain Malstein instruct you to do?¡±

    ¡°The Captain told us to go in the cells on either side of you after he cleared out an entire block to ensure there was no one else there who might mess it up-¡±

    ¡°-which was fucking stupid, because it probably made you suspicious as all hell that something was going on,¡± Tommy finished for her.

    ¡°No finishing each other¡¯s sentences,¡± I snapped. ¡°Amna, you¡¯re the only one answering questions. But yes, mostly correct.¡±

    ¡°Right, so we were supposed to find out if you were working with Versalicci, mostly just come off as sympathetic ears in case we try to meet you again later. Captain arranges for Hallows, Mitchell, and Folkes to tail you, and they somehow lost you in a sandwich shop. Captain reamed their asses over it. The next day we were going to surveil your apartment, but that march broke out and every spare watchman needed to go make sure a riot didn¡¯t break out. After that Malstein assigned us to tail you, then word came back you were at Lady Kersin¡¯s estate. Followed you to the Hell¡¯s Own, then Mitchell and Folkes came to relieve us. They lost you, and the Captain told us to find you again. Luckily, someone tipped us off you¡¯d been to St. Lanian¡¯s, and we¡¯ve been tailing you ever since.¡±

    Well, it sounded like I was back on someone¡¯s shit list over at the Watch.

    ¡°Who sent the tip?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Amna said.

    I pressed the dagger¡¯s edge a little tighter against Tommy¡¯s throat. ¡°Amna. I don¡¯t want to hurt either of you, but I have had a hells of a past few days. I need something to help try to make sense of this. Why does Captain Malstein want me followed?¡±

    ¡°The Black Flame case,¡± she said hurriedly. ¡°They found the box they questioned you so much over, but it¡¯s gone missing.¡±

    ¡°And they think I took it?¡± I asked incredulously. ¡°What, do they think I snuck into the Coffin or the Rock and stole it back out for the Black Flame?¡±

    ¡°No, but they want an explanation for what was inside. They didn¡¯t find the box until after questioning you, and Malstein can¡¯t get a warrant for your arrest.¡±

    The Hells? Who in the Watch had both the pull to stop a warrant for me and would even want to? They probably didn¡¯t know, so my next question was in a different direction.

    ¡°What was in the box, Amna?¡±

    She hesitated, gaze dropping to Tommy¡¯s face.

    I didn¡¯t even look there, just pressing the edge in. It hadn¡¯t cut skin. Yet.

    ¡°Angel¡¯s Sorrow. A dozen doses of it. At least that¡¯s what Quarryman says.¡±

    I nearly dropped the knife. What?

    ¡°Angel¡¯s Sorrow,¡± I repeated. ¡°This Quarryman is certain that¡¯s what it was?¡±

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t there for that part, but we¡¯ve never seen him be wrong.¡±

    Versalicci was dealing in Angel¡¯s Sorrow? The hells are you thinking, Giovanni?

    ¡°Is that all you wanted to know?¡±

    Amna had managed to shuffle over three feet towards us while talking, in that painfully awkward way of people thinking if you just inched forward, no one would notice. You distracted people so they didn¡¯t notice you moving till it was too late. That¡¯s how you did it.

    ¡°Back off,¡± I warned her. ¡°Here¡¯s how this is going to go. I¡¯ll be taking Tommy off this rooftop and a fair bit away from here. You follow me, he dies. I get even a hint that there¡¯s more of you out here and they follow me, he dies. He tries to break loose, he dies. I leave him tied up in some alleyway, and we stay out of each other¡¯s way this evening.¡±

    ¡°Shit deal,¡± Tommy observed. ¡°And why do I got to be the hostage? Take Amna, she weighs less.¡±

    ¡°Shut up, Hostage.¡±

    ¡°He isn¡¯t wrong,¡± Amna said, seemingly not bothered by her erstwhile friend trying to make her the hostage instead. ¡°How about you leave Tommy up here? We both turn the other way, walk back, you can shoot us if we even look behind us.¡±

    ¡°Or I can slit Tommy¡¯s throat, shoot you in the head, and then your secret police buddies can shoot me, leaving Tommy here to bleed out,¡± I said.

    Tommy somehow managed to find a new level of paleness for his skin to reach. Any whiter and he¡¯d be more pale than milk.

    ¡°You¡¯re asking me to put a lot of trust in you.¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m not the one who got caught,¡± I replied. ¡°Here¡¯s a thought, if you don¡¯t want to end up in this position, don¡¯t be so incompetent at sneaking around. This isn¡¯t being debated.¡±

    It ultimately wasn¡¯t, and it ended with a worried-looking Amna watching as I forced Tommy to climb down the wall first.

    ***

    ¡°For us it¡¯s just orders, you know that right?¡± Tommy hurriedly whispered as I pulled him back into the alley. ¡°It ain¡¯t anything personal.¡±

    It was awkward as hell keeping a grip on him since he was nearly two feet taller than me.

    That settled it. The next person I was becoming would be taller, just to avoid situations like this. Then again, the entire point of becoming Falara had been to avoid situations like this. At least he was being a cooperative hostage.

    ¡°Honestly, you seem super nice when you¡¯re not threatening to kill me, and so refined and uh¡­¡± the Watch member struggled to think of something else to say. ¡°The fact you¡¯re about a foot and a half shorter than me and able to manhandle me like this is a bit of a turn-on?¡±

    This was his idea of flattery to preserve his life? Now I believed Amna that they¡¯d joined the Watch just so he wouldn¡¯t get killed.

    ¡°I prefer when you were spouting curses and sexually deviant acts,¡± I muttered.

    ¡°Really? I can go back to that. It¡¯s much easier for me to think of things involving that!¡± He exclaimed loudly. Someone trying to sleep in the alley snarled at us to be quiet as I dragged him past.

    I couldn¡¯t tell if he was being loud to keep whichever members of the Watch were out here on my tail, or if he was genuinely this clueless. I dragged him over to behind some pile of something that stank like rotting flesh and forced him to sit down at pistol-point.

    Then I started binding Tommy with ropes.

    ¡°Is this really fucking necessary?¡± He complained. I counted it as progress: he hadn¡¯t made some joke about bondage.

    ¡°Yes,¡± I replied. ¡°Don¡¯t struggle, or I will try to render you unconscious first.¡±

    He grumbled, but complied with me. Watch training probably included some idea of what happens to your brain when enough force is applied to knock someone out. A chokehold would do the trick, but I didn¡¯t want to aggravate the Watch any more. Eventually, we reached the point where the only thing left to bind was his mouth.

    ¡°Should have done this from the start,¡± I muttered as I gagged the Watchman with many coils of rope. He still tried to yell, but rope muddles the sound to the point his colleagues would need to be in this alley to hear. ¡°Don¡¯t make too much noise, or someone will notice, and in an alley like this, they might not be too friendly to the Watch.¡±

    That stopped the yelling, although now Tommy was staring at me reproachfully.

    ¡°Don¡¯t give me that look. You all started this by tailing me. Also, you can wriggle out of this in half an hour by yourself. Just don¡¯t be too loud.¡±

    With that, I left him and hurried out of the alley. Two possibilities lay before me. The first, that this Captain Malstein was low ranking in the Watch hierarchy and I was a low enough priority that two officers who were incompetent at following a suspect across rooftops was all he could spare. The second, these two had been set on my tail with the purpose of distracting me from the actual officers set to follow me.

    I¡¯d like to think I¡¯d notice any who were following me, but recent events had made it clear how out of practice I was. The best I could do was hope any other Watch officers following me tonight would be the kind to intervene when some of their comrades were in danger.

    If Forester had sent any, slim chance of that, but I¡¯d cling to it like a piece of driftwood for now. Besides, time wasted was time I couldn¡¯t spare.

    With that, I left the Watch officer and hurriedly continued on my way. The tracking spell still pointed the same direction, and this near the river, it could only mean one place. The docks of Garretsville. Good. A long walk would give me some time to think about what the hell Versalicci was doing.

 Chapter 28 - Trapdoors and stuffed Leeches

    It was never advisable to walk the docks of Garretsville at night.

    This district had started well outside the city¡¯s limits, a thousand years ago, but as the city had grown it had swallowed the port town. It¡¯d kept its independent spirit thought, which as time went on meant it¡¯d become a favorite for smugglers.

    The docks here were for bulk goods, where you¡¯d unload and load the largest shipments, which meant plenty of warehouses. Over time, that also meant it became a place to load and unload contraband hidden among the massive shipments and put in these oversized warehouses.

    I was keeping a wary eye out. Pure-blood rank and file had dressed like working people, and while my conversation with the guild master hadn¡¯t given me a general location for them, Lower Litchen might fit that bill. An older neighborhood as well, and those collected inhabitants mistrustful of foreigners and other newcomers to the city.

    A hooded cloak and the shadows of night helped some, but anyone taking too close a look would tell what I was. At least I didn¡¯t have wings.

    Mind you, I had bigger issues on my mind.

    Assuming those Watchmen were right, Versalicci was trading in Angel¡¯s Sorrow, which tied him into the poisonings. Both of the plagues on my doorstep turned out not only to have the same plague but the same source.

    Only it made no sense.

    Versalicci poisons noble children¡­for what reason? What did he gain out of it? He¡¯d poison people, but only for something in return. He gained nothing but ire if anyone discovered this, as far as I knew. Influence? Both victims so far belonged to minor houses, although Montague¡¯s records might be of interest. That was a very brittle hold to put someone in, though.

    No, maybe not directly involved with the poisonings, but perhaps trading with whoever was supplying the poisons? The poison-maker did not need to be the poisoner and a substance that would kill other Infernals immediately¡­no. Holy water would do the same trick with less expense or risk, and if he was trading in these substances, he wouldn¡¯t have had Golvar carrying them with no escort.

    I disliked Golvar but I couldn''t deny that he had been and presumably still was one of Versalicci''s most trusted men. Trusted enough that he was the only one Versalicci would have carrying around Angel''s Sorrow? Perhaps. By himself? No.

    A third possibility then, one I was very uncomfortable with. Someone was trying to make Versalicci a patsy, much like I was. And if they were attempting to cast him as the central villain for a frame-up job, I as the willing accomplice would work. If they knew who I was.

    Considering how much larger that list was than I¡¯d thought two days ago, there might be a decent chance of that.

    For now, this was all conjecture until I got my hands on any evidence. The Black Flame¡¯s restraint till now was a point in its favor, though, given how the usual response to an exposed scheme was maximum damage and chaos to cover it up. But solid evidence would be the best confirmation.

    Unfortunately, I doubted there would be any lying around where my boxes were being stored.

    It didn¡¯t take too much walking to reach my destination, only twice meeting with other people along the way and pretending we didn¡¯t see each other.

    The warehouse wasn¡¯t much to look at, a shoddily patched wooden rectangle perhaps five hundred feet long, with not a guard in sight. There were padlocks on the main loading doors but just a simple lock on a side entrance, all of them shoddy and rusty.

    It might seem silly to be that lax in security, but in a town where there were perhaps hundreds of warehouses like these? Hiding was the best solution, and I doubted anything important would be stocked inside the warehouse.

    No lockpicks on me meant a few minutes hammering on it with the butt of my flintlock till the rusted lock fell to the ground in pieces. I went inside, opening up my lantern.

    Shelves of boxes formed a miniature maze as I weaved my way through inside. I opened the occasional one only to find cotton clothes, probably due to be shipped out. Nothing of interest, and most importantly, nothing expensive enough to risk robbing, especially with how bulky the cotton garments would be to take.

    Cheap iron tools made up the contents of the other boxes. Very cheap indeed, some of the tool-heads barely attached to the wood.

    I made a circuitous route going through the warehouse, circling tighter to where my boxes must be.

    The bit of metal rotated around the ring as I walked in a circle, pointing to the middle of an empty space.

    There¡¯s a hidden storeroom. Of course, there is. This couldn¡¯t just be simple.

    ¡°Imp,¡± I asked out loud. ¡°Is there a spell you know for finding secret entrances? Preferably a fast one?¡±

    Do I look like a spellbook?

    ¡°No, you don¡¯t look like anything. You sound like someone bothered by the fact they have to work. My sympathies. Now, is there a diabolist spell for it?¡±

    There are a few you could use laterally. But none you could use right now. Not without making your head pop like a grape underfoot.

    ¡°Brilliant. Truly helpful.¡± I unhooked my lantern, resigning myself to searching the hard way.

    Don¡¯t blame me for this. You¡¯re the one who modified your own body to be as hard to channel magic through as possible. You were lucky rotting that one thug¡¯s arm off didn¡¯t burst your own arm open.

    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    I ignored the imp, pacing around and eyeing the section of floor where the tracker told me my box was. The floor looked solid, and I wouldn¡¯t be so lucky for the entrance to be right above it. I¡¯d have to search; even worse, I¡¯d need the lantern to check.

    The lantern would be a necessary risk. There hadn¡¯t been a guard posted, and anyone walking by at night should not think much of seeing a light moving about inside. People working at night was common, as was the principle of minding your own business.

    Ten minutes in, as I patiently tapped stones and listened to the noise, the Imp spoke up again.

    If only to end this tedium, a method comes to mind that shouldn¡¯t damage yourself too much were you to use it.

    ¡°I¡¯m listening.¡±

    Send out small pulses of Diabolism and see the patterns they trace. Diabolism seeks the hells, which are below metaphorically if not physically. They will seek the easiest path through.

    Hrrm. My knowledge of Diabolism was limited, first because Versalicci wanted that restricted, so bonded me to the imp to handle anything complicated he wanted, and later because tomes on Diabolism were illegal. If I got caught with any, the government would sentence me to death, so I¡¯d considered having any a risk not worth taking.

    I focused, gathering power to my fingertips, wincing as pain lanced through each bone in my hand.

    ¡°Any specific direction or just release it?¡±

    Are you dense? Just release it. The power by itself will do what you wish.

    If I made my tea mixtures a hundredth holy water, perhaps the pain and possible slow poisoning would be worth it.

    Gathering power, I pushed my fingers against the ground, letting it leech out even as I willed myself to see.

    Something wet welled up in my eyes, blood or tears I couldn¡¯t tell.

    As the tiny bits of power let loose, my fingertips split, cuts forming on their ends, and blood dripped down onto the stonework. The best I could have hoped for in terms of backlash from magic flowing through veins designed to hinder it.

    I kept bare skin away, not wanting to risk a blemish or worse, the rot.

    Someone or something was whispering in my periphery as the bits of magic flowed over the stonework, separating into smaller pieces, each seeking a path. I tuned it out. Even if the Diabolism had accidentally connected to an actual demon or devil, it would fade swiftly.

    All Diabolism had risks, but you could count on the smaller efforts to have the least effects.

    Loose bits rolled around on the floor, flaring red as they searched for cracks or seams. I followed them and eventually stared at the square they¡¯d outlined on the stone floor before moving through those cracks to the underground.

    It took time and a couple of borrowed tools, but I managed to get a hook underneath the hidden trapdoor, forcing it open. Wooden steps descended into a well-lit room no bigger than a study. Shelves flanked a single desk.

    I eyed the contents with interest as I pulled my tracking charm out again. The desk itself had papers and books piled on it, and pulling out drawers revealed even more books. There were six shelves in total, each carrying a different set of items.

    On the upper right was my box, only one of them, the shelf¡¯s sole occupant.

    Damnations. The possibility I¡¯d only find the one was always there. I grabbed it swiftly, opening it up. Picks, the first I¡¯d ever used. Various little trinkets and tokens. There was the first coin I¡¯d pickpocketed. My mother¡¯s wedding ring, which was more preserved for her than I. Versalicci¡¯s token. I put the lid back quickly, moving it to one of the two bags on my back.

    Now that was secure, it was time to see what I could rob from my adversaries.

    The shelf below contained weapons, mostly an assortment of daggers with inlaid glyphs, but one saber glowing faintly, runes cut into its side. A pair of revolvers as well, a variety of ammunition with the tips in different colors sorted next to them. Alchemical rounds.

    The bottom shelf held the preserved corpse of something. It resembled a giant leech, and I cautiously prodded it with the toe of my boot. No reaction, and I scraped the tip of my boot on the wall quickly.

    Well, even so, taking a skin sample was probably a step too far in risking it being asleep. I turned to the other shelf.

    The top layer was a collection of rocks that drew my eye. I forced myself to see again, but nothing about them appeared magical at all. Strange.

    The middle shelf had sets of clothing, each with a bundle of papers on top. Checking them, they were various forms and such for people. Licenses, registrations, other such proofs of identity.

    Damnations, I should have used my forged license at St. Lanian!

    I dismissed that remembered too-late fact as I moved on to the last shelf.

    The last shelf was filled with alchemical vials, a variety of liquids of differing colors. I looked closer at some of the clearer-looking ones. While it obviously wasn¡¯t being produced here, if any of those were Angel¡¯s Sorrow, it would connect this place for certain to the poisoners.

    If they wanted to steal from me, then turnabout would be fair play. As many of the papers as I could gather off the desk went into one bag, along with several of the books I could identify as alchemical texts.

    I carefully transferred the clearer liquids to my own set of vials, which I kept in a waist pouch, not trusting any of the ones in here. It was difficult to both put a tracker in the glass and also to hide it, but not impossible.

    I left the various weapons alone for the same reason. The revolvers and the rune-engraved saber were both tempting, but I didn¡¯t have an easy method to check for tracers on me. My tool for that lay with other belongings I hadn¡¯t even risked being in my apartment. Niche use tools that were illegal but whose use wasn¡¯t universal or needed enough for me to justify keeping under my floorboards.

    The books were a large enough risk for my taste.

    There was the set of snuffboxes among the fake identities, which I left alone despite the Imp¡¯s urgings. The popularity of drug use among nobles and the amount of narcotics that specifically weren¡¯t banned because of their efforts. That meant anything in those boxes would be powerful enough not to risk exposure.

    Instead, I settled for the rocks. Clearly, there was something strange about them, and they¡¯d be the least likely to have tracers. They ended up filling much of the second bag, leaving no space left. I could shove more in at the risk of my mobility, but I fit a pair of tomes on top.

    So, burn down what I hadn¡¯t pocketed or leave it be?

    Actually, not burning, but some matter of destruction might be called for. No need to risk a fire spreading, especially with the unknown nature of these alchemical substances.

    But my box missing would be a sign someone had found their little secret storage spot. And there was a thick stone floor between this place and the warehouse proper.

    I grabbed a bundle of papers from the desk and looked them over quickly to ascertain if I should bring them with me. More licenses for trade, an entire stack of them under different names. Who needed this many fake identities?

    I lit their corners with my lantern and tossed them on the desk, quickly moving as papers caught alight.

    It took only a moment to shut the hidden trapdoor as heat blew out of the burning secret room. I took a moment to breathe, then moved towards my exit.

    Only the sound of the door opening interrupted me. I hooded my lantern and crept by one of the shelves, trying to get a look through the empty gaps in the shelving.

    ¡°What foul wretch has intruded into my warehouse?

    A lone figure entered the warehouse, lantern in hand illuminating the interior. He was tall, slim, red-haired, and freckled. He could not look more Keltish.

    Most importantly, he had metal threads in his clothing. Silver in the morning coat, gold in the waistcoat.

    Looks like my business here wasn¡¯t done.

 Chapter 29 - An Eye of Fire

    Well, this was a conundrum.

    My metal-thread-wearing intruder was moving into the warehouse with a lantern in hand. Given the organization of the shelves from the route he was taking, I could either leave now or stay and see if I could get some answers out of him.

    I crept around the corner, following behind him, far enough back that a sudden turnaround wouldn¡¯t immediately spot me. Unfortunately, it meant I couldn¡¯t make out many details about him, not helped by him holding the only source of light in front of him.

    The back of his head was in the dark, but it felt like something was weird about it. After a few seconds, I shook my head. Focus on the here and now, Malvia!

    Metal threads moved to the hidden trapdoor, staring down at it. Perhaps he thought I was still down there? He pressed a bit of the floor, and the trapdoor rose, revealing the violet flames in the secret room as burning alchemical substances fed an unreal fire.

    He reeled back from the wave of heat, slamming the trapdoor shut.

    I emerged from the shelves, flintlock trained on his head.

    ¡°Well, if it isn¡¯t he of the metal threads. Turn around slowly if you can. No sudden movements unless you enjoy new holes put in you.¡±

    He turned slowly, a thin, reedy face looking at me with an exasperated expression. He stared down at me only a little, perhaps a few inches taller than me.

    ¡°Metal threads?¡± He asked incredulously. ¡°Tis an improper name for one such as myself.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not like you left me a name to call you,¡± I replied, keeping the gun trained on him. Had he been following me, or was this his warehouse? Would he be going through it in the middle of the night if it was his warehouse?

    ¡°Josiah Hawkens,¡± he replied indignantly.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take your word for it. Katheryn Falara,¡± I said flippantly. That could not be his actual name.

    He said nothing, glaring at me as if I¡¯d wilt under his gaze. His hands were on something underneath his coat, but it didn¡¯t look like a pistol. A cane, perhaps?

    He withdrew a cane and, in a single swift motion, pulled on the handle, pulling a rapier¡¯s blade out of the cane.

    ¡°Your name does not matter, for tonight you shall pay for the perfidy you visited upon me. I shall avenge my failure of the night before.¡±

    He followed that proclamation with a flourish of the rapier, which glinted in the lantern light as if on command.

    I cocked my head to the side. ¡°Did you hit your head when I shoved you inside my closet? Because you definitely did not talk like this when you tried robbing me.¡±

    ¡°Is it robbery when one takes from a thief?¡± He asked. ¡°Or when one does it for a just cause?¡±

    ¡°Pretty sure there¡¯s plenty of people the courts have sentenced with more defined sob stories. Unless you want to elaborate on why your cause is so just?¡±

    Hawken¡¯s sneered at me, flourishing the rapier again as he moved close to me. The damn thing glinted again, a shimmer of light traveling down its length. Had he enchanted the damn thing? Fucking nobles.

    ¡°Explanations are for peers, not for those beneath me, which you do not count as, Malvia Harrow.¡±

    I blinked, then lazily grinned at him. ¡°Oh, that was exactly the wrong name to say.¡±

    He sneered, then opened his mouth to say something else.

    I moved the flintlock down, aiming for his leg. Whatever he would say died in his throat as he lunged towards me with the rapier.

    I was faster.

    The bullet shot into his knee, the leg folding as he collapsed to the ground, blood and meat spraying out the other side. He went down with a yelp, hands going over the bullet wound.

    ¡°You¡¯re lucky, don¡¯t you know?¡± I asked. ¡°I need answers. Otherwise, bits of your brain would be scattered on the floor instead of your knee. Mind you, that can change if you don¡¯t drop the rapier.¡±

    ¡°You shot me!¡± Hakwen whined. ¡°Do you know how much these pants cost? This is the second time I¡¯ll need them replaced, you brute!¡±

    ¡°Maybe you and your friends shouldn¡¯t have wrecked my lab, my apartment, and my life,¡± I snapped back, reloading the flintlock with a pre-prepared powder package. ¡°Drop the rapier. Last warning.¡±

    Hawkens dropped the rapier, eyes glaring at me as he got into a position resembling sitting down.

    ¡°You should tie off a tourniquet above your knee,¡± I suggested. ¡°I aimed a bit to the side, but no reason to risk bleeding out from an artery.¡±

    Hawkens stayed still, apparently planning on defying me by bleeding to death.

    ¡°Very well, not my life that¡¯s at risk,¡± I said. ¡°Well then, Mr. Hawkens, my first question is, what the hell were you doing trying to rob me in my lab?¡±

    He snorted. ¡°You must have me mixed up with one of those low-lives you assuredly deal with. Young lady, I have never met you before in my life.¡±

    I sighed. ¡°Yes, because my life has room for more than one person with precious metals threaded in their clothing. Who also has a box stolen from me in their possession. And who also resembles a certain person who gave a tip to Mr. Halmon of Halmon¡¯s Alchemical Solutions on the location of a recently deceased and poorly guarded wyvern. Excuse me if I don¡¯t accept your suggestion as fact. Do you care to revise anything you¡¯ve said?¡±

    He remained steadfastly quiet, and I sighed.

    ¡°Mr. Hawkens, I don¡¯t have all night, and frankly, whatever web you¡¯ve chosen to weave around me has worn my patience very thin, so if you continue to lean on it-¡±

    Hakwens sprang from the ground with none of the awkwardness demanded from his position or having a fucking bullet wound in his knee. One hand snatched his rapier, the other reaching out to grab me.

    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    I pulled the trigger on the flintlock.

    The bullet went right between his eyes, blood and gore exploding out of the back end as the bullet exited.

    He kept on coming, and I flung myself to the side.

    Hawkens came to a complete halt and pivoted, the rapier¡¯s blade smacking into my hand. Pain jolted up my forearm, but I kept ahold of my saber.

    I didn¡¯t bother trying to strike back, running for the window. If whatever Hawkens was could take a bullet between the eyes, I wouldn¡¯t waste time trying to sword fight him.

    Coward, rot him to waste!

    Yeah, I was not doing that either. I leapt, channeling Diabolism. The wood holding the window together was already dead, but that didn¡¯t mean it couldn¡¯t rot or decay further.

    The entire window fell apart, wood decaying while glass simply fell. I went through the open space, rolling as I landed on the far side.

    My shoulder hit the cobbles, and I cursed as pain burst across it. Too far out of practice for this, I still reached my feet within moments, running. Behind me, the warehouse groaned, the spell still working on parts of the warehouse before fading out.

    Honestly, it¡¯s not the worst that could have happened from using Diabolism. Relatively benign. As opposed to the ends of my arms, where veins cut paths of fire burning through me. I kept moving, biting my tongue to prevent a scream as it spread up my arm.

    I¡¯d drawn too much diabolism in too short a time through a body I¡¯d sculpted to have as hard a time as I could make channeling magic. Without reverting or using my tools, it wouldn¡¯t handle any more of it well.

    And the rot was the simplest of tricks. Doing anything trickier would do far worse to my body.

    I got to my feet, running. Forget interrogating Hawkens; the papers in my bag would illuminate these events by themselves. Instead, it was time to retreat and hole up for the evening.

    I was halfway down the length of the warehouse when I saw Hakens burst out of a window further down. I turned, avoided sliding on the cobbles, and started heading the other way.

    Damnations. How could he even stand? He hadn¡¯t swallowed a potion, and the bullet had gone through straight between his eyes! Was he a mage? I doubted anyone with something as rare as a healing talent would be skulking around here at night, which left priests.

    I turned around, barely avoiding tripping as I ran the other way. I could hear shoes on cobbles behind me, and just when I was about to round the corner, something flew beneath my legs.

    As I shut my eyes, my head met cobbles in a collision of flesh and stone. Everything hurt, from my chin to the base of my horns, which ached. At least they hadn¡¯t broken from the impact.

    Tangled up with my feet was the cane sheath Hawkens had kept his rapier inside, and I hurriedly turned over as Hawkens stalked closer.

    Hawken sneered down at me, bending over slightly to stare me in the eyes. He looked taller, the well-fitting suit from before stretching across him, a foot of calf visible from pant leg to the shoe. One hand still grasped his rapier.

    ¡°Surprised, creature of diabolism? Let this mystery be the last thing your mind puzzles before you-¡±

    I lashed out with a hoof, hitting Hawkens right on the nose. Something crunched underneath, and he reeled back, screaming.

    I took advantage of the momentary distraction to cut with my saber. It bit into his wrist, but he still wouldn¡¯t release the rapier.

    He blinked tears out of his eyes, recovering fast from the blow. Whatever magic had healed the gunshot, it worked fast on his nose, resetting it with a painful crack. I had little time.

    I headbutt Hawkens, driving my hardened forehead and my horns right into his face. It wouldn¡¯t be as effective as it had been as Malvia, but it still sent him reeling, his nose broken once again.

    Mind you, I could hear the bone crunching as it reset itself.

    I charged him, horns smashing into the underside of his head as a hand grasped one of his arms. It took just a moment of contact for the power to well even as it scorched my veins, then traveled into Hawken¡¯s arm.

    He didn¡¯t yell, kicking me back even as skin rotted away, flesh stripping itself from bone as it ate its way up his arm. Hawkens spared just a glance at it, and then suddenly, the arm fell off at the shoulder while the rot was still at his elbow.

    He didn¡¯t bleed, didn¡¯t scream. There was nothing there but seamless flesh.

    The rapier jabbed at me, and I parried it once, twice, then the third time, it slipped through, punching into my shoulder. I shrieked, trying to grasp Hawken¡¯s hand with my free one, calling power again.

    He pulled back in a single motion, expression confident. Where his arm had detached, new flesh was growing, bones forcing its way out and flesh pushing out to join it. The old one finished rotting on the ground, bone, patches of skin, and lumps of flesh.

    Too slow. I had another trick. One that I didn¡¯t even need the imp to warn me would cost me dearly.

    I lunged forward, taking the rapier point through my saber-wielding arm, the pain as the blade scraped along the bone only a hint of what was to come as my free hand grasped Hawken¡¯s face.

    ¡°Burn,¡± I hissed even as my fingers burst, blood turning caustic and eating its way out of my flesh.

    His head burst alight, black flames forming on the surface of his skin. He shrieked, a sound that drove pinpoints of pain into my ears as he flailed. Skin charred, flesh underneath crackling as it spread across skin even as I pulled back, a scream bursting from my throat.

    My fingers poured blood, veins pumping out the paths eaten through my flesh.

    Hawkens stopped shrieking, still burning but running my way. I had seconds.

    I fixed my gaze on him, willing energy once more. Diabolism leaped once more out of the nearest conduit. Hawken¡¯s burning flesh rotted as well, and in return, my right eye boiled.

    I screamed, my hands reflexively going to it even as Hawken¡¯s collapsed into a shrieking mess, Diabolism eating at the wailing mess of flesh in two different ways.

    Whimpering, I fell onto the ground, eyelid shutting, hands clasping over my eye as it continued to cook inside the socket. Even so, it leaked out, falling onto the ground as the socket still burned.

    I lay there as that burning faded from excruciating to agonizing. It took three attempts to get up, my limbs collapsing. After the first attempt, I tore some cloth off my shirt, wrapping it around my fingers. I got another strip over my now empty socket, stopping the agony of the breeze. The bleeding stopped, cut short by searing the veins closed with more diabolism. The Imp crooned in my ears, telling me to re-earn my strength by eating Hawkens.

    I didn¡¯t even have the energy to tell it no as I forced myself onto unsteady hooves, stumbling towards the rotted and burnt remains of Hawkens.

    Everything hurt, especially the exposed inside of the socket. I ignored the little splash of white on the ground even as my nerves continued to burn and my gait was unsteady. The world felt smaller, my window into it shrunken as I forced myself to focus on what was left of my opponent. Tears wouldn¡¯t stop pouring from my other eye.

    The rotted and roasted remains still moved, as what remained of his limbs wriggled, skin stretching back over as flesh reformed. Flames still licked at the flesh, but what it consumed continued to grow back¡ªmuch more slowly than before, which might mean he was near his limits.

    My saber cut three times, earning nothing but groans as I severed chunks of the flesh. Hawken¡¯s movements did not stop, and I couldn¡¯t risk waiting longer, so instead, I gathered one of the severed chunks, collecting a small sample into a vial. Somehow, my hip flask remained secure, the vials inside undamaged in their straw packaging. The bags had come loose during that, and I grabbed them both.

    By then, hands were forming across Hawken¡¯s flesh, over a dozen. Stubby fingers poked out of charred flesh, wriggling as they pushed their way out. Shuddering, I turned my back on Hawkens and moved away, hoping to find a place to lick my wounds. Quickly.

    ***

    I couldn¡¯t tell where I was.

    I had gone stumbling off, barely aware of the outside world as pain ate at me, and eventually, exhaustion forced me to break into another warehouse. It hadn¡¯t been subtle. I¡¯d need to leave before dawn when they¡¯d come and find me nestled in a corner, a stolen blanket drawn up around me.

    Someone else had come in. I¡¯d heard the door swinging open. I¡¯d debated running, but decided against it. If it was Hawkens, freshly healed, I put my odds low. If it was someone not connected to this, I¡¯d beg for their charity. Anyone else, and well¡­my options were there. Somewhat.

    They came into sight, the both of them. One of them was almost eager, the other as cautious as their partner was enthusiastic. They both had revolvers trained on me as soon as I came into sight.

    I grinned as they halted outside of easy lunging distance. ¡°Mr. Voltar, Mr. Dawes. A pleasure to see you both!¡±

 Chapter 30 - Three possible exits

    I grinned as they halted outside of easy lunging distance. ¡°Mr. Voltar, Mr. Dawes. A pleasure to see you both!¡±

    ¡°A pleasure to see you again, Miss Falara,¡± the detective replied cheerily, lowering his revolver while a stoney-faced Dawes kept his trained on me. ¡°Or would you prefer Ms. Harrow, or even Ms. Xang?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d ask how you know that, but that would give you a reason to be smug,¡± I said. ¡°Although I suppose I can¡¯t stop you in that regard.¡±

    ¡°You could try, but you¡¯d run out of body parts well before you¡¯d manage anything.¡±

    Dawes¡¯ expression turned disapproving as he looked at Voltar. ¡°Could you not needle her?¡±

    ¡°This isn¡¯t needling. This is a simple stating of the facts. She¡¯s ripped herself open just from tonight.¡±

    He wasn¡¯t wrong there. Pain still lanced me in several places, and just moving got me a half-dozen little stabs of pain acrossmy body. I¡¯d dressed what wounds I could, but cannibalizing my wardrobe again wasn¡¯t the same as treating them or bandaging them with clean clothes. There was my stash of tools not touched since I¡¯d become Falara, which could have at least brought back my eye if I hadn¡¯t buried them in the Infernal Quarter halfway across the city..

    ¡°I think your friend has the limits of my abilities down, Doctor. Unless you two are about to kill me, I¡¯m not about to rip apart my body hoping to hurt you. Hells, I¡¯d much rather we all part ways and never see each other again, but that choice isn¡¯t in my hands any longer. If it is to kill me, I just request it is quick.¡±

    ¡°Hrrm,¡± Voltar eyed me with an unnerving look on his face. ¡°It would perhaps be the most opportune time.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Dawes stated flatly. ¡°I¡¯m not shooting a defenseless woman, and neither are you.¡±

    I¡¯d take offense to the word defenseless, but I couldn¡¯t protest.

    ¡°Even if you will not shoot me, just turning me over to the Watch would have me dead. Death would be the penalty for my crimes even before accounting for me being a Diabolist, unless I¡¯m mistaken. With it added to the list, I imagine I¡¯m going straight to a quick drop on the end of a rope.¡±

    Voltar chuckled. ¡°Oh no, the Diabolism means you¡¯d stay alive. You¡¯d get an invitation from a representative of Her Majesty¡¯s government, with the alternative being that quick stop at the end of a rope you were thinking of.¡±

    ¡°Either way, you have me at your mercy, detective. Please, monologue about how you figured it all out because I¡¯m very interested myself in what the Hells has been going on.¡±

    Voltar¡¯s grin faltered a little. ¡°I do not monologue.¡±

    ¡°Are you calling your partner a liar, then?¡± I said, gesturing towards Dawes with my uninjured hand. ¡°I¡¯ve read the account of the Perilous Ruby. It went on for nearly three pages, and the book¡¯s pages were not small.¡±

    ¡°Truth be told, we had to cut it down,¡± Dawes responded. ¡°His actual speech to me afterward went on for six and the publisher insisted I cut it down. And that I insert more internal dialogue to break it up some. ¡®Rambling¡¯ was the word used.¡±

    ¡°I do not ramble!¡± Voltar protested.

    ¡°Please. Even if Dawes¡¯ books aren¡¯t the actual events, I¡¯ve had to endure Versalicci¡¯s rant about how you rant. If your monologue was long enough to leave an impression on him, it must be massive in its length.¡±

    Voltar glared at me, then turned his gaze to Dawes, who looked a trifle embarrassed.

    ¡°They can get a bit long. They are always very educational, old friend, but it can tend toward the monotonous.¡±

    Voltar looked like he was contemplating arguing the point further, but he decided against it.

    ¡°My suspicions began when the Watch found you in the aftermath of Mr. Govlar¡¯s demise, the only survivor. A random alchemist accompanying a highly-ranked member of the Black Flame? While your record indicated some manner of illicit activity, nothing on the level of the Black Flame, and certainly nothing to suggest you¡¯d be trusted by Versalicci¡¯s former right-hand man.¡±

    He looked at me as if that last sentence was a question.

    ¡°I¡¯ve not been part of the Black Flame for five years. I don¡¯t have any if you¡¯re asking for some deep insight into how they run things these days. Golvar was the dependable one, which is why he was the right hand. I doubt Understreet would change that.¡±

    ¡°Well, after you caught my attention, it was simplicity itself to deduce who you were. Even ignoring the fact that one Lily Xang appointed Katherine Falara to manage the affairs relating to Bao Xang on her behalf, once it was clear I was dealing with someone associated with the Black Flame, I went through the list of all Black Flame members who were alchemists and who had died. Already strong circumstantial evidence pointing to your name aided by suspicions you had been the Black Flame¡¯s biosculptor, but to put everything to rest, I dug up ¡®your¡¯ corpse.¡±

    Ilta. One of the earlier casualties of Understreet, and when I¡¯d first considered the possibility of leaving, the first corpse to be secured for faking our deaths. The fact I hadn¡¯t killed her had been only a small assuaging of the guilt over mutilating her body afterward.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t do the bare minimum either, considering how little attention just another corpse would have received back then,¡± Voltar said praisingly, which only made me feel worse. ¡°It took Dawes here peeling the flesh back and looking to the bones to find the evidence of you manipulating the body to resemble your own.¡±

    ¡°I would like her name, just so her family can be notified of her death?¡± Dawes asked.

    I shook my head. ¡°Ilta. But she was an orphan. The name was likely fake, and more than likely she had no family left. The fewer connections you have, the better a recruit to the Black Flame.¡±

    Voltar continued onwards. ¡°Our initial meeting also piqued my interest. Training a tell to disappear can leave its own tells. If you don¡¯t know anyone who has sculpted their face in that way, looking for the minute details of someone trying deliberately to not have sudden motions of their facial expression look unnatural doesn¡¯t look different from just how people move their faces naturally. When that suspicion is already there, however¡­¡±

    ¡°I should have lied about the sculpt,¡± I mused to myself. ¡°Although at that point, any amount of suspicion would have been too much. I built a mask out of paper, it seems.¡±

    ¡°We, of course, needed to confirm things, which is where finding your possessions confirming you first as a Biosculptor and second as a Diabolist proved useful. We have possession of both.¡±

    ¡°So, you two were the ones who pilfered my apartment?¡± I asked, tone mild. One of my remaining good fingers dug into the wooden floor of the warehouse, blood beginning to trickle from the knuckles down.

    ¡°On my honor, we did nothing more than find your boxes under the floorboards and take two of them, Miss Xang,¡± Dawes assured me. ¡°The destruction of your possessions afterward was not our doing.¡±

    The Imp sighed inside my head as I lifted my bleeding fingers off the warehouse floor. A wrench in my gut almost strangled my next statement, but I managed to get a hoarse reply out.

    ¡°It¡¯s appreciated. So you do not know about who nabbed my last box then?¡±

    ¡°After finding there was a tracking tracer in the box, we decided the best thing to do was leave it alone. Inspired idea, fitting it inside the wood of the box itself, being burrowed in there, makes it difficult for most tools that find tracking tracers useless. Most. So no, we left it, and presumably somebody else found it.¡±

    ¡°Josiah Hawken. Or maybe Hawkens, if that even was a real name and not a fake one he gave me. Probably a fake. That¡¯s an interesting tale, assuming you don¡¯t know anything about that yet.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I haven¡¯t had time to look into that yet,¡± Voltar said. ¡°I¡¯m sure once I do, all the pieces will begin to fall into place. Like how his height suddenly increased, walking from one end of the warehouse to the other. Or you being a diabolist, which I don¡¯t think anyone would have guessed.¡±

    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    ¡°Versalicci kept that close to his chest,¡± I said. ¡°Calling back home to his Papa made me very useful to him.¡±

    Voltar arched an eyebrow. ¡°Only his? Well, I suppose that¡¯s another theory confirmed. I don¡¯t suppose you can fill in any more blanks about events from five years back before we take you away?¡±

    ¡°Depends,¡± I replied. ¡°Who hired you for this, detective? If anyone did, and it wasn¡¯t just curiosity and Versalicci¡¯s involvement that drew you in.¡±

    ¡°Lady Karsin,¡± he answered, and I didn¡¯t know where to delight or despair in how freely he¡¯d given that information up. ¡°She wanted you vetted after you cured her son, although it was originally something I was to get to at my own pace. If it wasn¡¯t for the death of our mutual acquaintance, Mr. Golvar, I¡¯d have probably begun looking into you a few weeks from now. Speaking of, how much did your account of his death different from what actually occurred?¡±

    ¡°Very little. I didn¡¯t mention that he knew who I was, but the events played out as I told the Watch. I didn¡¯t know he had Angel¡¯s Sorrow on him, and if I had, I guarantee I would never have surrendered to the Watch to begin with. Guess I would have avoided a few evenings of being stalked by Watch tails if I¡¯d tried making a run for it.¡±

    ¡°Angel¡¯s Sorrow?¡± Voltar asked. ¡°That¡¯s intriguing. You¡¯re certain of this?¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t know?¡± I asked. True, the Watch officer interrogating me hadn¡¯t seemed pleased, but they and Voltar being far apart was a departure from the norm.

    ¡°That you were being actively watched and what was in the package Golvar carried? I knew the former, just not from the Watch, who have been less communicative with me as of late. Although I suspect that¡¯s just the result of some long-building tension.¡±

    ¡°They don¡¯t like him leaning on his connections to the government,¡± Dawes explained. ¡°Which included leveraging your early release from the Coffin.¡±

    ¡°You might have stepped on the toes of some Watch Officer¡¯s attempt at another iteration of the secret police, and also why? You could have just kept me in the coffin.¡±

    ¡°Hrrm, no, we could not,¡± Voltar said. ¡°Finding out where you would go, what you would do, those were more important than hoping a probable Black Flame member would break in a Watch prison. You were certain that was Angel¡¯s Sorrow in the box?¡±

    ¡°The Watch officer I got it from seemed pretty certain, and she could have thought of much more reasonable things to get my knife off her partner¡¯s throat.¡±

    The two stared at me in silence for a while as I realized how that sounded.

    ¡°They were tailing me,¡± I said. ¡°On a rooftop. Self-defense.¡±

    ¡°Against a pair of people just following you while you both walked on top of someone else¡¯s house?¡±

    I tried to move past that topic before I lost on it any further. ¡°The question is, where do we go from here? You¡¯ve successfully caught me, probably the one person in the mess who knows the least about what¡¯s going on, detective. What¡¯s the next step?¡±

    ¡°For right now? We bring you to Lady Kersin and Lord Montague, since they are paying me for this case. Not that I particularly agree with the decision to have you brought in now, but considering the mess you¡¯ve been making-¡°

    ¡°Can¡¯t blame a girl for defending herself,¡± I interjected.

    ¡°You weren¡¯t the one to start that?¡± Dawes asked, eyebrow arched.

    ¡°She was,¡± Voltar told him. ¡°Relative positions inside the warehouse when the fight starts, as well as the blood splatter. Unless they both were wielding flintlocks, which, given the contents of the underground room, whoever she was fighting should have been much better armed.¡±

    ¡°He lunged at me,¡± I said. ¡°I was only acting in self-defense.¡±

    ¡°Even so, hardly the only disruption you¡¯ve caused,¡± Voltar said. ¡°Then again, given the theories on familial traits.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare,¡± I hissed while Dawes looked at Voltar disapprovingly.

    ¡°You know those theories have as much science as any number of street prophets, Voltar.¡±

    ¡°Fair enough, although I can hardly forget your relations,¡± Voltar told me.

    ¡°They''re just as hard for me to forget,¡± I responded bitterly.

    ¡°Would you mind answering a question of mine?¡±

    I shrugged. ¡°It seems only fair. Depending on the question, I can¡¯t promise a truthful answer.¡±

    I would protect some things. Tolman and Arsene. My mother. Other things Voltar didn¡¯t need to pry into. Even a few things regarding Versalicci were off-limits in that regard.

    ¡°Was there anyone besides you practicing Diabolism in the Black Flame you knew of? I¡¯d hate to find any more popping up I was unaware of.¡±

    I sighed. ¡°Again, my knowledge is old. There were eight of us originally, two experienced, the rest of us novices and intended to be stuck that way outside specific tasks Versalicci wanted us to perform. You caught Daver and Mallet died during the initial wars with the other gangs. Matt tried to turn and got his throat slit for it. Ilya burned after you exposed Understreet. Rebecca, Dodge, and Alice might have escaped for all I know, but if they¡¯re still with the Black Flame, I do not know.¡±

    ¡°All three of them died in the Understreet,¡± Dawes told me sympathetically. ¡°I wish I could say it was swift, but¡­¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t need to sugarcoat it, doctor,¡± I told him. ¡°I may not have stuck around the entire time, but I saw the worst. It was their choice to stay and fight for that in the end.¡±

    The Watch was brutal but for some of my fellow novice diabolists¡­. Alice loved summoning imps, specifically inside people, to watch them eat at her victims from the inside out. Then again, would I have been different in the same position? Versalicci had put hooks in people younger than he had with me.

    ¡°My question. Do you think Versalicci is behind the poisonings?¡±

    The two traded looks, Dawes stony again and Voltar amused. ¡°I think you have your own thoughts on that we¡¯ll be hearing anyway, so perhaps you go first on that subject?¡±

    ¡°He didn¡¯t do it, and I don¡¯t say that out of any loyalty or affections for the man,¡± I said. ¡°He¡¯s a snake and a monster, and a few other things besides, but he¡¯s not an idiot in this way. Is there some benefit to having leverage on the Montagues or the Karsins? Perhaps, Lady Karsin has been around for a long time and may know where some bodies are buried, and the Montagues have access to records that could be useful as well. But how would he get this leverage? This scheme wouldn¡¯t give leverage, what it does at most is raise funds by making nobles pay the poisoner for the cure via a proxy, me.¡±

    ¡°One could argue that the amount of money one would make from this scheme would be quite high,¡± Voltar interjected. ¡°Especially with repeat business. Each poisoned victim would earn him quite the ransom per cure.¡±

    ¡°Except it¡¯s not his style,¡± I replied. ¡°Versalicci can be dramatic, but only to distract from another scheme. For raising funds, he can make more with less risk in a hundred different ways.¡±

    Voltar arched an eyebrow. ¡°And can you be certain this is not some dramatics intended to distract from another scheme?¡±

    ¡°No, but I damn well can state in terms of direct risk this would top the list of those types of scheme,¡± I countered. ¡°When messing with nobility, there will be one member of the gang directly involved. Everyone else is either hired hands, or proxies, or people from out of town. If I were still part of the Black Flame, he wouldn¡¯t simultaneously risk both me and Golvar with this. Hells, Golvar being used as a mule for the poisons, that would never happen. It¡¯s a poisonous loyalty that Versalicci makes, but he doesn¡¯t make it by risking people that loyal for something this trivial, and that¡¯s ignoring Golvar being too useful to waste on this.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d hardly say the amount of money being made is trivial,¡± Voltar said.

    ¡°By his standards? When he can make the same more consistently and with less risk? Especially after Understreet, he won¡¯t take the chance of bringing attention to him again. He wants to stay in the shadows, lick his wounds, and let people forget about him even more. They already do half the job for him since no one wants to admit how much of the city infrastructure was being run by an Infernal.¡±

    Honestly, I didn¡¯t know if they¡¯d try to cover it up even more or just bite the bullet and send the military deep into the underground to kill him if they found out who he was the son of. Having an Infernal come close to being the mayor of the city in all but name was embarrassing. Having the son of a Duke of Hell doing that might cause riots and result in a round of executions for the people who were supposed to be safeguarding against exactly that.

    ¡°If there is some deeper scheme, he may have entrusted it to people he knew he may trust,¡± Voltar said, pointedly looking at me.

    I scowled. ¡°There¡¯s no trust between us. I¡¯d be more loyal if he forced me to swear an oath overseen by a demon, and if you want to test for that, you are welcome to.¡±

    ¡°Another factor is the poison itself,¡± Dawes interjected. ¡°Angel¡¯s Sorrow requires a captive divine creature, which is a much rarer sight than their Infernal counterparts, especially in modern times. Not exactly something that would be cheap to acquire or to contain. Not the poison of choice for making money via ransom.¡±

    I inclined my head at Dawes, thankful for the help, even if I couldn¡¯t guess why he was supporting me.

    ¡°One last point in its favor. Do you really think that those Pure-Bloods happened upon Golvar by accident? Someone set them on him. Someone who knew he¡¯d have Angel¡¯s Sorrow in that box.¡±

    ¡°Someone who wanted it to be a group of thugs to find it? Do you think they¡¯d even recognize what it was?¡±

    I faltered a little. That was true. The Pure-bloods and their involvement in this was one of the more murky parts of this entire affair. I rallied a second later.

    ¡°Catspaws as well. Probably with instructions to take the box to whoever is actually behind this. Or a middleman. Probably a middleman. Unless they stumbled across Golvar in the underground and attacked him for no particular reason besides to beat up the Infernal.¡±

    ¡°They don¡¯t really need many other reasons to attack people,¡± Voltar noted.

    ¡°How about pursuing someone into the Infernal Quarter? Five humans, chasing an infernal through the Quarter, hoping no one has an issue with that?¡±

    Voltar sighed. ¡°I hear your point. I have quite a few questions myself regarding this. But to a more immediate point, Ms. Xang-¡±

    ¡°Harrow,¡± I insisted.

    ¡°Harrow. Falara even. What would you suggest?¡±

    I paused, considering Voltar. There was no chance he hadn¡¯t thought of this already, even if he lacked some of the information. Why hadn¡¯t he simply dragged me off?

    ¡°I think that someone is playing us all for fools, and if I¡¯ve noticed, you¡¯ve noticed. Why play along, detective?¡±

    Voltar cocked his head to the side. ¡°Because playing along for now gets me more information to make my case. As well as other concerns.¡±

    ¡°He doesn¡¯t have a free rein to do everything he wishes,¡± Dawes said. ¡°Especially not after Understreet.¡±

    I considered the good doctor. The ever-present shadow, the dutiful sidekick and chronicler, always in the shade cast by the skilled detective.

    ¡°You hold the leash?¡±

    ¡°I have some influence on how tight it draws,¡± Dawes corrected me.

    Well, it just meant I had two people to convince instead of one. ¡°It seems to me that playing along might go easier if there was a little fire spread to make the rats panic. Let someone else serve the role of the fool, enforced by all three of us.¡±

 Chapter 31 - The Trial Farce

    The carriage jolted as it turned corners, the sudden movement throwing me off balance.

    Normally I¡¯d be able to tell it was coming and brace myself, even at the speeds we were traveling. Normally.

    My head hit the wood of the carriage¡¯s side, cushioned only by the burlap sack that had been shoved over my head. Dull pain, matched by the duller pain still throbbing in my empty eye socket. The mixtures they¡¯d given me to mitigate the pain were fading fast, as was their nature. Anything with longer-lasting effects had side effects I didn¡¯t want to deal with.

    It was the only thing making the burlap bearable. I didn¡¯t want to think about the time rounding a corner had pushed burlap into my now empty eye socket.

    ¡°Was the bag really necessary?¡± I asked as I barely kept myself from falling to the coach¡¯s floor.

    ¡°Oh, not really in the sense of does this serve a purpose, but both Lady Karsin and Lord Montague insisted on it. I think they¡¯ve read quite a few too many of the cheaper novels currently flooding the market.¡±

    The burlap sack muffled Voltar¡¯s voice as I got myself back in the middle of my seat, only with great difficulty. They¡¯d bound my hands behind my back and chained my damn feet together, and had done both before trying to get the burlap sack over my head.

    ¡°At least in those books, there¡¯s a reason,¡± I muttered. Like when Red Barret was abducting Lisa Hollowitz, it was because she didn¡¯t know where his base of operations was.

    ¡°Sorry, you¡¯ll need to speak louder,¡± Voltar sound with a cheekiness that made it all too clear he had heard me clearly. ¡°Would you mind repeating that?¡±

    No, they¡¯re pretty empty of reasons. You just tend to ignore that while getting to the steamy parts. Unless your tastes have changed in the last five years.

    Now I was very grateful for the burlap sack, if only so no one asked why my cheeks were burning.

    I was not spending the minutes leading up to this trying to argue on behalf of the average street thriller¡¯s quality, so I stayed quiet. Instead, I tried to find a more comfortable place to sit as the carriage continued to race through the streets.

    ¡°I do wish they had gone into some more detail about the logistics of it, otherwise we wouldn¡¯t have wasted so much time with the sack. Apparently, no one bothers to think of the horns.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps if someone hadn¡¯t insisted on pulling this damn thing so far down, that wouldn¡¯t have been a problem,¡± I replied. One of my horns was currently poking through the burlap, which was the only relief from the muffling effect of the sack. ¡°Where are we even going?¡±

    ¡°Lady Karsin¡¯s estate,¡± Voltar said, followed by a quiet sigh from Dawes. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry. It¡¯s not like that will matter too much by the end of this.¡±

    Well, that sounded ominous.

    ¡°That makes the bag even more of an imposition,¡± I muttered. ¡°I¡¯ve been to her estate twice. And I doubt I¡¯m getting released right after this, so not knowing where I¡¯m going is even more pointless.¡±

    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s not for that. They don¡¯t want people to know they¡¯ve abducted you, although I¡¯m sure the both of them would prefer the term ¡®taken into custody¡¯.¡±

    Silence reigned in the carriage, mounting until I broke it.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been there several times before. My tail and hooves are visible, as is one of my horns. My skin is a shade of red. How is anyone who sees me being dragged into that tower not going to guess who I am?¡±

    ¡°Do not question the minds of nobles. I think we are close enough. We need to make sure everything is ready.¡±

    Someone grasped the burlap sack, trying to lift it off my head. It caught on my stuck-through horn.

    ¡°The hells do you think you are doing? Tell me before you do something like that!¡±

    Eventually, they got the sack off of my head.

    ¡°One second, we must complete the illusion,¡± Voltar said, producing a length of rope.

    ¡°The illusion of what?¡± I asked, eyeing the rope. I hadn¡¯t received an answer to that question in the warehouse, only the prodding necessary to make me come along for this.

    ¡°That we haven¡¯t been talking,¡± was all the answer I received, and soon I was dealing with rope fibers stuck in my mouth as they fit the burlap sack back over my head. They¡¯d tied a second rope around my chest, leaving maybe a half foot of my tail wriggling in protest. They¡¯d tied it tight too, so I could feel it cutting off my circulation.

    It would not be a pleasant carriage ride.

    ***

    By the time the carriage came to a halt, I was tempted to lash out with a hoof and hope I hit Voltar instead of his more innocent partner.

    I couldn¡¯t see out of this sack, and I couldn¡¯t hear too well out of it, or smell. I did know how long it took to reach Lady Kersin¡¯s estate from Garretsville. We¡¯d taken half an hour longer than the trip should take.

    I was escorted by the two of them out and guided along the stone walkways of Lady Karsin¡¯s garden, as I could feel the stares of the people serving Lady Karsin.

    At least Voltar and Dawes were gentle about guiding me through. No deliberate tripping to send me head first into anything, like some in the Watch favored. Soon I found myself being forced down to sit in a room, pressed forward far enough against a table that the edge pressed into my ribs.

    The silence continued for a bit, only the sounds of breathing after the door closed. Ten people counting myself, Dawes, and Voltar. Finally, a familiar voice spoke up.

    ¡°Why does she have a bag on?¡± Lady Karsin asked.

    ¡°Precautions on my part, my lady. I assumed you would want no one to recognize her, since this is your estate where you are holding this little mock trial.¡±

    Mock trial? Also, he¡¯d decided?

    ¡°She has a horn sticking out of the bag, and you came in through the back gate, Voltar,¡± another familiar voice noted in exasperation. Lord Montague was here as well.

    ¡°Lady Karsin¡¯s servants have already seen the Foulhorn twice, thrice now? Between that, the tail, the hooves, and everything else, I think they are capable of adding two and two together.¡±

    And now I was stuck agreeing with Bartholemew Montague as well.

    ¡°They won¡¯t talk,¡± Lady Karsin said. ¡°I weeded out the last ones who would thanks to our young poisoner here.¡±

    Well, now I knew what they¡¯d been sold as my crime.

    ¡°Take it off,¡± another familiar voice commented. ¡°Unless you¡¯ve found out she can strangle people with her gaze, Mr. Voltar. I¡¯m pretty certain she can¡¯t, otherwise, I¡¯d be dead myself.¡±

    Gregory Montague was here. Interesting.

    Someone grabbed the bag much more roughly than Voltar had, yanking it off of my head.

    The room I was in was the same I¡¯d had tea with Gregory Montague and Lady Karsin, only now much more claustrophobic from the number of people in here. I was sat down at a table across from a scowling Lord Montague. He was flanked by a smiling Lady Karsin and Gregory Montague, who was busy eating a pastry of some kind.

    Turning my head, I could see four in the colors of either Montague or Karsin flanking me or just behind me. None of them were biosculpted, or at least not to the extent of Montague¡¯s bodyguard, perhaps because there wouldn¡¯t be room to fit someone of that size in here.

    Straining my neck, I could see Voltar and Dawes behind me, and just by coincidence closest to the doors in case something went wrong. Well, I couldn¡¯t fault them for that. Hells knew Montague looked like he was considering biting my face off here and now.

    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    At least like some people I¡¯d seen look at me like that, he couldn¡¯t do that. Well, he couldn¡¯t do that as easily as they could without as many pointy teeth.

    Voltar cleared his throat behind me.

    ¡°Miss Falara, you already know Lord Montague, Lady Karsin, and Lord Montague. The four behind you are two members each of their household guards, and that appears to be all who will be here. Planning on this being kept private, My lords and lady?¡±

    Montague¡¯s sour expression turned even more dour as he glared at Lady Karsin. ¡°I will repeat that you never should have involved him in all of this. And while I¡¯m willing to tolerate him, I¡¯m not having his sidekick stay around. The fewer witnesses, the better.¡±

    Voltar¡¯s grin turned glacial. ¡°I hope you are not implying you are going to involve me in a crime, Lord Montague, or that Doctor Dawes is not worthy of respect.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s exactly what he implies,¡± Gregory said. ¡°He¡¯s just being less subtle about it than normal.¡±

    ¡°Be quiet Gregory,¡± Lord Montague snapped.

    ¡°I am not in your employ, Lord Montague,¡± Voltar said. ¡°Neither me nor Doctor Dawes take orders from you in this matter.¡±

    All eyes turned onto Lady Karsin, including my own. She looked at me, gaze blank. My own mask was a polite, disinterested smile.

    ¡°I think Lord Montague has a point. No offense to you, Doctor Dawes, but unless you have some insight that Mr. Voltar does not?¡±

    Dawes shook his head. ¡°Nothing of interest, I would think. Would you prefer by the door or out of earshot?¡±

    ¡°There are muffling enchantments on the door. You can stay right by it.¡±

    And like that, the group of ten was down to nine, although it felt only more crowded to me.

    Voltar was here to provide testimony in this mockery of a court, so if they ushered him out of the room after would make clear if this was to be an execution or not.

    Not that holding an execution wouldn¡¯t be a gamble at this point for Montague and Karsin. They¡¯d be wagering neither Voltar nor Dawes would make a fuss over it, something that depended on how much Voltar knew.

    Not that I expected Voltar to be upset if I died, outside of moral objections. He had those, to Versalicci¡¯s eternal frustrations when they¡¯d first set their paths to collide, but enough to overcome two nobles wanting me dead?

    Either way, putting this off would only delay the inevitable, since everyone had gone quiet since Dawes had left.

    ¡°What am I being accused of?¡± I asked. ¡°I¡¯ve not been having the most pleasant of days, as it might be clear. Fights with rats and fops and a most unpleasant visit with my uncle.¡±

    ¡°Did you not hear Lady Karsin?¡± Gregory asked. ¡°You¡¯re accused of poisoning us all. Father¡¯s been tearing apart whole chickens searching for your vile venoms you have been trying to feed us.¡±

    Lord Montague¡¯s dour expression turned thunderous as he glared at his son, who gave the innocent look only the most guilty could manage.

    We kill this one first, The Imp said in my head. There is no greater crime than wasting food.

    ¡°Are you going to deny having poor Mitchell tearing that one chicken apart and having each piece tested after Elise said she felt ill?¡±

    Devour him slowly.

    ¡°I would ask you to take this more seriously, considering your brother¡¯s condition, Gregory, but I see you are incapable of doing so.¡±

    And he is incapable of considering the seriousness of his offense.

    ¡°Considering we¡¯ve already had a second alchemist come in and confirm her cure works? As far as I know, this is the same paranoia that ended with my favorite tailor having to move across the entire breadth of the country.¡±

    Montague ignored him, turning his attention to me. I happily seized the opportunity to ignore the Imp, who at least had not tried to force me into launching a desperate attempt at devouring Lord Montague.

    ¡°If you admit what you did now and save all of us some time and effort, I might forget your part in this,¡± Lord Montague informed me. His tone and expression remained as stormy as ever, so he meant nothing of the sort. Just tossing out meat, hoping for a rat to chew on it, and saving himself the effort of shoving poison down the rat¡¯s gullet.

    I wouldn¡¯t be accommodating.

    I sighed as if considering all of my options, then spoke.

    ¡°First, I must confess to an incident where after spending an entire afternoon running messages for pennies, after Daniel Merkavan stole all my fifty pence I bit him on the ear and kicked him in the dick so hard he walked funny for four days. Made it awkward when we had a fling six years later. After that, I got into pick-pocketing as a superior method of making money over messenger running or Hells forbid chimney sweeping. My first victim was-¡±

    A rifle butt rammed into the back of my skull, sending me reeling as my vision wavered, pain cracking through my skull.

    ¡°Foulhorn,¡± Lord Montague said. ¡°You do not understand the situation you are in if you think jokes are going to help you.¡±

    ¡°I understand the situation perfectly, your lordship. You, or Lady Karsin, hired the city¡¯s greatest detective for some task that has resulted in me being dragged here, in a mockery of a trial in front of a small group of people who will know to keep their mouths shut if I am to be killed at the end of this.¡±

    Even odds on Voltar and Dawes actually, but he hadn¡¯t hired them in the first place, and their presence here was a concession to the strangely quiet Lady Karsin.

    ¡°Besides, I am insulted by your assertion that I poisoned your son. If anyone ever employed me for such a goal, your son would have either choked on his bile days ago or would currently be fighting a battle he could not win.¡±

    That got me dark looks from all three of them. Perhaps I should dial it back a little.

    ¡°I confess to providing both of you excellent service for the matters you consulted on,¡± I said. ¡°One patient cured, another sure to be. I think my identity should have very little to do with that.¡±

    ¡°Unless you are associated with the poisoners,¡± Lord Montague states. ¡°Unless this is all some scheme to drain our pockets of wealth to the benefit of you or, more accurately, your masters.¡±

    I rolled my eyes. ¡°And who are they? I agree with your son. This sounds like someone¡¯s paranoia run rampant.¡±

    ¡°The Black Flame,¡± Gregory said, tone gone deadly serious.

    I let my mask slip a little. Not exposing what lay underneath, of course, but just a moment of panic quickly covered up. You wouldn¡¯t know to catch the tiny change in expression unless you knew how to look for it.

    Four people here knew how and caught it.

    I fired off a quick retort as half-constructed as a panicking caught thief would. If they were a complete novice.

    ¡°That¡¯s what you have to go on? Someone informed you I belonged to the Black Flame? And you believed them based on what?¡±

    Both Montagues turned to face Lady Karsin, whose smile faltered just a little.

    ¡°I¡¯ll admit my suspicions early on were based on little more than an anonymous tip,¡± she said. ¡°I didn¡¯t pay it any mind at first. But after a while, it preyed on my mind how the moment I needed someone to cure my son¡¯s poisoning, an alchemist showed up who just had not just a cure for me but enough for, say, three to four other people. The fact I couldn¡¯t find any ulterior motive only made me more suspicious.¡±

    I could point out that coincidence happened or the series of events that led to my discovery of the wyvern¡¯s corpse, but I could tell the path of the argument she was making. Neither would ease the intended blow against me, so I kept quiet.

    ¡°I knew Mr. Voltar from when he solved the incident with Lady Villein¡¯s necklace four months back, and I also knew he had some kind of history with the Black Flame. I approached him about this, and he assured me I¡¯d hear back within a month or two and to contact him again if any more poisonings occurred. When you came to me asking about how my son had been cured, I reached out to him right after giving you Katheryn¡¯s name. Mr. Voltar?¡±

    Clearing his throat, Voltar moved to one side of the table, the only place where all of us could face him and he could actually stand up straight.

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to ask him to take the stand?¡± I asked, only to get the butt of a rifle to the back of my skull again. This time, my head nearly rammed the table from the force of the blow.

    Gregory¡¯s lips quirked. ¡°She is right, father, it is only proper-¡±

    ¡°This is not a courtroom!¡± Lord Montague bellowed. ¡°Gregory, if you continue engaging in banter with the creature that poisoned your brother, I will have you disowned!¡±

    Father and son stared at each other, and in the end, it was the son who blinked first. He looked at me apologetically, then kept his silence.

    ¡°Voltar, what did you find out?¡± Montague asked.

    Lady Karsin remained quiet, and I tried to catch her gaze. Her quietness was¡­strange to put it mildly. Her house. Yet Lord Montague was calling the shots?

    ¡°Lady Karsin asked me to look into Miss Falara, a task I considered something to take up a lazy afternoon, but I did not take any real interest in. Until members of the City Watch approached me, who informed me of the recent demise of one Mr. Golvar, one of the trusted lieutenants of Giovanni Versalicci, head of the criminal gang of Infernals known as the Black Flame. I¡¯m assuming you both are familiar with his and his group¡¯s exploits.¡±

    A nod from Lady Karsin and a grunt of affirmation from Lord Montague.

    ¡°The main one at least,¡± Lord Montague said. ¡°I do not know what other things he¡¯s been up to.¡±

    I kept a grin off my face. All his records and he didn¡¯t know? Perhaps a little ass-covering on his end, depending on what records he kept and he could have discovered Understreet.

    ¡°The Watch asked me to examine the crime scene and also to interrogate the only survivor of the incident, one Katheryn Falara. Needless to say, the same name turning up twice in a few days piqued my interest. I went to the crime scene first, where I observed that-¡±

    ¡°We do not need the details, Voltar, abbreviate your account if you must,¡± Montague said.

    ¡°Would you prefer just the conclusions, then? No? I interviewed Miss Falara at several points, and my suspicion only grew. A quick canvass of associates who I could find indicated that Miss Falara came to town four years ago, a year after the Understreet incident, and records of her existence before then in the city did not exist. I could have pursued records of her in the town she apparently claims she was born in, but with time on my mind, I decided to simply search her apartment while she was out.¡±

    He wouldn¡¯t have found anything that would stand up to any scrutiny at Sussen-on-Fyre. Records of Katheryn Falara but no one who knew her.

    ¡°I and Mr. Dawes examined her apartment and soon found a hidden spaced underneath her floorboards, where we discovered several boxes containing personal possessions, various tools for magic, and a few other items. Not wanting to tip her off, we put them all back under the floorboards and left her apartment.¡±

    ¡°So you weren¡¯t the ones who ripped it apart?¡± Lord Montague asked.

    ¡°We would never conduct a search in such a way,¡± Voltar said. ¡°There are various reasons one could have to conduct their search that way, some of which I could theorize on, but unless it¡¯s immediately pertinent?¡±

    ¡°It isn¡¯t,¡± Lord Montague said, and I resisted the urge to protest. It wouldn¡¯t do any good, but his single-minded focus would be infuriating even if I wasn¡¯t the one being targeted.

    ¡°Yes, well, from it I can say without a doubt that Miss Falara has been, and probably still is a member of the Black Flame, and I have even ascertained her true identity.¡±

    My breath caught. There was an unanswered question between us three, and even if he had agreed, I probably would still worry if he only said it to avoid a fight. Now was the test.

    ¡°I can attest after examining the contents of the boxes that the Infernal sitting here is Alice Skall, a member the Black Flame long suspected to be dead. While she has a new form, I put this down to the services of a sculptor who used to be part of the Flame I consulted on this matter, who has admitted to arranging the treatment before they parted ways. Malvia Harrow sends her regards, Miss Skall.¡±

 Chapter 32 - A Hole in the Sky, A Way Out

    Simultaneously feeling internal relief while puppeteering my face for a subtle expression of fear was quite the trick.

    I spat and cursed their names and made a lunge for Voltar that saw me clubbed to the ground with the butts of muskets. It wasn¡¯t an inspired performance, but I might as well do all I could to mask the collusion between me and Voltar. They didn¡¯t want me dead so I could add some flourishes, knowing the worst I¡¯d get would be broken bones.

    I avoided that, except for a final blow that made the entire right side of my chest feel like it had burst into flames. A rib, maybe two, but hopefully not too badly broken. Not enough that the mask slipped. I¡¯d unfortunately been trained to keep it on with much worse pain.

    They wrestled me to the ground, as I swore Versalicci would find eternal vengeance over Voltar and that doxie traitor Malvia Harrow.

    Lord Montague looked down at me, disgust on his face. I kept my silence, not wanting to push this further. Too many broken bones would make escape an issue.

    ¡°As much as I would love to have this one shot right now, I fear she¡¯ll have to live a while longer. Till she answers our questions at least, then I¡¯ll toss her to the watch. I imagine it¡¯ll be the noose for her?¡±

    ¡°Probably,¡± Voltar said. ¡°She¡¯s wanted under various crimes that¡¯ll fetch execution, although not the noose. I¡¯ve heard they¡¯ve been preparing a new, more humane form of execution they wish to try out. It¡¯s called a guillotine.¡±

    ¡°Hrrm. Perhaps I¡¯ll attend. Maybe her leader will be the first in line to try it out as well?¡±

    Voltar chuckled. ¡°Oh, I¡¯ve learned to never count on catching Versalicci in a trap, your lordship.¡±

    ¡°Even if I get her to confess?¡±

    ¡°Especially if you get her to confess. We¡¯d need to find wherever he¡¯s secreted himself away to. But that should be a discussion for another day.¡±

    ¡°A discussion for later. Hammond, bag this trash and take it out the back way if you would. No need for anyone else to know she¡¯s been here.¡±

    ¡°If I might interject, your lordship, it might not be the best idea to have her secreted away,¡± Voltar said.

    Montague sighed. ¡°Detective, I am trying to avoid making this public. I do not want the spectacle of her being dragged, publicly, through-¡±

    ¡°Lady Karsin¡¯s garden, your lordship,¡± Voltar said. ¡°No one even needs to know you are here, but also the Watch is after Miss Skall for current and previous crimes as part of the Black Flame. It is possible they never realize, but if they were to find out you had her and didn¡¯t inform them.¡±

    ¡°A fair point,¡± Lord Montague conceded. ¡°I can talk to Colonel Gisons by the end of today, which should handle that. I don¡¯t see any reason to make this any more public than it is.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯ll end up public eventually,¡± Lady Karsin noted, speaking up. ¡°There¡¯s too many interested parties to keep this secret, Bartholomew.¡±

    ¡°The other reason is protecting Lady Karsin and her family, and yours as well. Since the Black Flame would be looking to clean up loose ends. If they suspect Skall is being held here or at your estate, they may try to raid either of them, but if they think you have had her moved to a different location¡­¡±

    ¡°Pure brilliance, detective. Except for the part where they now know where to find her,¡± Lord Montague said acidly.

    ¡°Yes, but it provides a location where you know they¡¯ll go after her as well. If you bring the Watch in on it, it will be quite unassailable.¡±

    ¡°It would speed up resolving this matter,¡± Lady Karsin remarked.

    Lord Montague considered me like one would a rat that had wandered into their home, then nodded. Guards grabbed me and dragged me out of the room, past Doctor Dawes, who gave me a slight sympathetic look that almost earned him a kick with my hoof from me.

    Play the role, damnations!

    By the time we¡¯d reached the bottom of the tower, they let me walk instead of dragging me, just to make things easier after they realized I wasn¡¯t fighting back. I kept an expression of resignation and fear on my face, the look of someone being marched to the gallows.

    Walking through the garden, I glanced about, trying to figure out what the play was. Voltar had agreed, otherwise he could have just used my actual identity. The question then was, how was I supposed to get out of this mess?

    Running for it in the gardens would be difficult, considering the shackles, the servants, the guards, and the fact it was approaching noon. Any public attempt at escape would cause a chase, and in my current condition, I doubted I¡¯d make it far.

    Maybe the plan was to spring me once I¡¯d reached my destination. Assuming Voltar knew where that was. But no, that would isolate me even more and give me even fewer opportunities.

    I needed to escape here and now, but how?

    Someone had piled several boxes there, marked with various company logos. Supplies for the house piled up by servants who were putting off taking them inside. A little strange, given the tight ship Lady Karsin had run the times I¡¯d been over here.

    Not as strange as the small box sitting on the top of the pile. Looking at it made my remaining eye ache as the symbols carved into it tried to repel my gaze.

    The box containing my diabolism focus.

    This was my method of escape? Were they insane?

    I half-stumbled in my step, but a rifle butt to my back prodded me back into the same pace.

    I had a little time. Not much. A minute before we passed by them? The leg shackles slowing me down bought some time.

    The hells was the detective thinking? Diabolism? This would draw attention on its own even if using that art wouldn¡¯t currently cause parts of me to rot, bleed, or slough off.

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    Perhaps that was the point. Voltar had been shocked to find out I was a diabolist. What were the odds that the webweavers behind this knew that?

    Vermin ran when given a fright. It was instinct. Maybe it was time to make some vermin run and see what tracks they made on the ground.

    ¡°Twenty-five rats must be a fair bit, in terms of sacrifice,¡± I mused out loud to the confused and annoyed stares of the guards. ¡°How much would it get on the market with the proper focus?¡±

    Something rammed into the back of my head, sending me to the ground, woozy and feeling ill. Above me, one guard muttered something about the demonic influence in my veins driving me mad. I didn¡¯t pay attention, being much more focused on something else. Not that she was far off.

    A fair bit, if you¡¯re willing to spend it all at once, the Imp said, malicious glee in its voice. Are you ready to unleash me?

    ¡°Not quite,¡± I got out before a boot kicked me in the side. I shrieked as something broke under the blow. ¡°Distraction and mischief, but never permanent injury.¡±

    That drew further attention. Someone pulled out a revolver and yelled something else at me.

    You¡¯ll need me to reach the box, but the box has what it needs to do this safely. Your permission?

    I wasn¡¯t so far out of it to not understand that, even as guards barked orders at me. We were attracting a small crowd now, most servants who were tending to the gardens.

    The Imp needed permission to cause permanent harm to me. If I couldn¡¯t heal it, this would be permanent.

    ¡°It¡¯s all flesh,¡± I said. ¡°Either harmed here or somewhere else. The only question is which to risk?¡±

    The guards made that choice for me. The roar of a gunshot was only matched in intensity by the fire that spread through my arm. A bullet smashed into my elbow, and I screamed as it burst from the other side, spraying blood onto the ground.

    Another guard grabbed me, putting their arms under my shoulders and yanking me up. Another guard loomed close to me, yelling at me, but it felt distant, like the words were traveling through water.

    It is ready.

    I wouldn¡¯t use an arm at first. Best to save that when more came into view to distract. Instead, I opened my mouth, the guard recoiling from the rows of pointy teeth, anticipating a bite.

    ¡°Vex,¡± I intoned, and my tongue melted into a scalding hot brew that burned the inside of my mouth.

    The guard recoiled, screaming as terror spawned in his eyes. I couldn¡¯t tell what he saw, but it sent him screaming towards the edges of the garden. I focused on swallowing the boiling liquid that diabolism had made of my tongue.

    It could be regenerated, but having the pieces inside helped, so I swallowed, even as it scalded the inside of my throat.

    Something hit the back of my head, and my vision grew dizzy as I hit the ground. I rolled, turning up to face the other three guards.

    One of them had a gun ready, and I doubted they¡¯d go for wounding shots. I pointed with my left arm, gathering power. Thought and intention would have to guide the diabolism.

    Vex!

    My arm went completely limp, and I shrieked as bone and flesh scraped against each other. Something burned for an instant before disappearing. Ligaments, tendons, whatever it was, my arm was essentially a sack now, all the contents inside unconnected and scraping.

    All three of the guards screamed. Two of them clawed at each other while the third went into a fetal position on the ground. I scrambled up to my feet with my good arm.

    All the servants had fled, the sound of screams echoing across the estate. From the tower, figures emerged, all of them in Lady Karsin¡¯s colors and wielding rifles. Two of them gestured towards me, orange balls of flame forming above their heads. I¡¯d need to make this fast.

    I rushed towards the box, taking the lid off even as it burned me. The burning in my hand was nothing compared to the rest of me. Behind me, the screaming continued from the four incapacitated guards.

    Another gunshot. I went to the ground, my leg giving way as I collapsed. My calf burned as I got back up, my injured hand grasping the eight-sided star. It cut into my fingers, blood going across its surface.

    It needed to be now. I wouldn¡¯t escape if I took another injury to my legs.

    I couldn¡¯t intone, but will alone would be enough to guide. Chaos and confusion were specialties of Diabolism. But I could not be in chaos. I needed to be calm. Anything else and this risked coming undone and ripping souls from bodies, maiming for the sake of pain. Calm.

    I raised the star above my head, closed my eye, and willed vexation one more time. I opened my eye again, deliberately not peering into the arcane.

    Melting my other eye out of the socket would not be the best move.

    Tendrils of red and black emerged from each point on the focus star, stabbing into the ground ahead of me. The grass darkened around me, helping feed the spell as the last of the rat¡¯s life forces I set aflame to spark three different spells.

    The two mages across from me sent their fireballs flying, both the size of a head and hurtling towards me. Two of the tendrils tried to rip themselves from the ground. I forced them to stay in, my heartbeat rising as I forced the energy to redirect.

    On my focus, an eye opened in the middle of the sun, and flame spat from the metal star, striking the fireball and sending it off course. The second one was already off target, splattering across a building, flames burning across its surface. I swallowed as I watched it spread.

    Two more fireballs were already rising.

    I weaved, tendrils sending the energy flowing through the ground. It needed to be fast, but rushing too fast meant mistakes and I could not make mis-.

    I stopped my runaway thoughts and forced myself to breathe, grasp the energy, and move it. I directed half of it towards the shadows on the ground cast by the tower above.

    Shadows grew, shapes within them moving as they towered over the remaining guards. The two mages turned on the shadows, fireballs flying straight through them. Things inside caught alight, the flames swallowed within the shadows, but it mattered not. The shadows weren¡¯t the danger.

    I grinned. I¡¯d always wondered about the exotic nature of the plants and how they could survive here. All that mattered now was that these plants were here and ready to be used.

    The plants surrounding the guards swelled, red rippling along them as roots ripped out of the ground and vines grew. Bullets fired out, most aimed at the plants as they struck, blasting holes in the vegetation too small to have an effect. But they¡¯d aimed some at me.

    Fire belched from the focus¡¯ eye once, twice, thrice. It didn¡¯t stop the fourth on-target ball, and I screamed as fresh pain ripped across my hand. I pulled back, my ring finger falling to the ground, severed at the knuckle.

    No more bullets though, as vines and roots entangled the lot of them, pulling tight across struggling forms. They¡¯d pay for that. The vines would tighten until none of them-no!

    I pulled on the focus, forcing tendrils out of the ground, forcing the plants to still. The Imp shrieked inside my head, but I ignored its castigations. No one died today.

    I pulled the focus away entirely, but now new lines of red and black burst from the ground, crawling into the sky as if on a wall. Shit. How bad was the cost going to be? I couldn¡¯t stay to find out.

    Spiderweb cracks of red formed in the sky, spreading across it like fractures in glass. With each passing second they grew, till a hole tore itself in the sky in the shape of a diamond, three feet from one side to the opposite. Beyond, a landscape of red and black roared, heat blasting from it around the head of a devil peering through. Horns gleamed as pale blue face peered outside the portal, eyes burning green as it exhaled, ice forming on the air.

    My breath caught. A voice in my mind screamed to run, but nothing could respond. I knew the face well.

    Our gazes met. Green vortexes swirled, and I stared back up at them, feeling myself lost. Something was lurking behind those shades of green, a mystery. If I could just peer further I would find it-

    The demon waited perhaps a second before bursting into laughter, a deep booming sound that made the glass shudder.

    I unfroze, taking a few steps back.

    The nobles, Voltar, and Dawes came out, emerging into the writhing and restrained crowd of their guards and mages¡¯ bodies. More guards were at their back, although the rifles weren¡¯t being aimed at me but the devil in the hole.

    I tried to let out a cackle, only for my lack of tongue to prevent it. I settled for saluting with the hand carrying my focus, the other still threatening to come undone as meat and bone slid to the lowest points.

    Then I vanished.

 Chapter 33 - Sedation

    I stumbled through the Infernal Quarter bleeding more than just blood.

    The constructed illusion I¡¯d woven around myself was fading fast, getting pumped out at about the same rate as I actually bled.

    I¡¯d stopped to change the illusion to an Infernal man of above-average height and a green shade of skin, and to bandage my wounds as best I could in a few brief moments. Blood still dripped with each passing moment as I walked. The cloth I¡¯d ripped off to bind them already soaked.

    Just one foot in front of the other. It wouldn¡¯t be far now. I stumbled, put my hand against the wall, and winced as bloodied and torn fingers brushed against the wood.

    I¡¯d gotten lucky with how the backlash had taken place, as ridiculous as that sounded. My tongue melting had seared the stump shut, so no bleeding there. The bag of skin one of my arms had been turned into hadn¡¯t burst open, so instead it simply sent spikes of pain through me as disconnected pieces scraped against each other. Whatever had dissolved in my arm, it left my nerves alone.

    Now the bullet in my leg and my missing fingers were the only bleeding wounds.

    The last of the rat¡¯s life force was going into blunting that pain otherwise I wouldn¡¯t be able to walk. Even so, each step sent stabs of agony all across my body and dripped blood on the ground. The pain did help in drawing my mind away from something else.

    Tssk, they¡¯ve cleaned this district up far too much, the Imp said in my head. I remember when you needed boots to wade through these streets unless you wanted muck on your skin, when you couldn¡¯t step ten feet without treading over a bum. What has happened to the Quarter? What foul entity has cleaned it up?

    I didn¡¯t respond. I couldn¡¯t since the seared-off stump of my tongue was not conducive to talking. Instead, I limped on, thinking of what had emptied the alleys. Wars. Fuel for the empire¡¯s expansion, which hadn¡¯t ceased significantly since Her Majesty had ascended her throne. And we had paid for it all.

    I shook my head, trying to clear those thoughts out. Not everything Versalicci had taught me was worthless or manipulation, but the truth made for the best manipulation of all.

    I took a step and pain lanced through my legs as it gave out, sending me to the cobbles. The bullet in my thigh. I tried to move the leg, get the hoof back on the ground only for the pain to make my vision swim and my stomach twist. My chin went to the ground as I clutched at my thigh.

    A small, round little hole leaked blood. Again, luck had been with me. The ball hadn¡¯t hit an artery or bone, and somehow hadn¡¯t blasted through my flesh either. My mind searched for an explanation and failed, although that might be because of the grey creeping in along the edges of my vision.

    I put my good hand on the ground, pushing, and the pain helped a little to drive that grey away. Getting to my hooves was a painful process, but I eventually made it and continued my limping trek.

    I stuck to alleys, and to my grudging gratefulness the efforts of the marchers meant the streets were still less populated than they should be, but it wouldn¡¯t last.

    Eventually, someone would notice me. I made an easy target, wounded and bleeding like I was.

    The question was if I could make it to my last refuge.

    I limped through an alley, a wary eye on another person. They were taking a dose of something probably hallucinatory in nature, so not a threat. I could only hope no one had moved into the abandoned building where I¡¯d buried a last emergency stash five years ago. I¡¯d never visited since burying everything.

    I covered a hundred feet in five minutes, falling twice to the cobbles and taking an agonizing half minute to drag myself back up. Luckily for me, the alley¡¯s other inhabitant was busy losing herself in another world.

    I staggered to the building, a low building that could have once been a warehouse, or maybe a shop with the small front area with displays. I tried the back door, and it swung open, no lock or bar to hold it still. Just as it had been five years ago.

    I limped inside, closing the door behind me and heading further inside. If anyone followed me, they¡¯d find it easy to get inside. Although if anyone was following me, I was dead already.

    My hidden store wasn¡¯t anywhere near as sophisticated as the one in the Garretsville warehouse, just hidden under an empty open-topped crate that had been here when I¡¯d made it.

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    I pushed it, flesh protesting with every inch as blood dripped onto the stone floor beneath me. Eventually, I moved it off, revealing the stone underneath.

    The carved lines in the stonework were wide enough to get fingers into, but even still lifting the slab of rock took over ten minutes. But I turned it over, the quarter inch of stone landing with a clatter.

    When I left five years ago, I¡¯d come here on my own and hidden everything I couldn¡¯t carry. An emergency stockpile, but also things too specialized for regular use but illegal to have without a license, the items I couldn¡¯t trust myself with and couldn¡¯t justify as something for emergencies.

    No one else knew these were here, and since I¡¯d visited not a single time since leaving these here to begin with, no one besides me should know they were here.

    The stash wasn¡¯t large, two feet dug down, one foot across, two feet forward to back. I didn¡¯t try to lift the chest nestled within, instead forcing the lid open. I grabbed a few items, a vial, a potion, and some sheets of paper.

    I started writing instructions for the Imp, the written word the only way to communicate with it.

    After all you¡¯ve put me through, I want better, the Imp complained. The next meal will either be a full animal of tremendous size or the limb of a sentient while they are alive to feel and witness. I will accept nothing less.

    That sounded less like a request and more like what it would need after exerting its own powers. I did owe it, so¡­.I¡¯d see how much a cow costs. Dead. I grabbed the potion next, checking the seal on the bottle.

    It was similar to the one I¡¯d had Golvar drink, a potion to close up wounds and begin the healing process, except much more powerful. If the seal had held, it might even repair whatever had been ripped out of my arm.

    A minute of examination showed the seal to still be held, so it shouldn¡¯t have lost any potency. Good, because I didn¡¯t know how the hells I¡¯d find any phoenix ashes.

    I took the bandages off, wincing as the blood-soaked cloth dropped to the floor. Blood soaked all of them to the point I could wring several cups out of all of them.

    Fresh air on my wounds added to my irritation, but I needed the cloth off of them before I used the potion or it might close with them inside. They wouldn¡¯t survive letting the Biosculpting change me back, anyway.

    The magic was intuitive but not the best for replacing eye or tongue, so I wrote instructions for the Imp to read. It took a quick second for it to confirm it could stop the healing magic at my neck with no cost; I prepared to use the potion.

    The bullet would need to stay inside. Not the best solution, but my body would naturally surround it with scar tissue, and it would stay inert. Painful, but I could force it out once I had my Biosculpting tools back from Voltar. Right now, it was more important to staunch the bleeding.

    I pulled the clothing back from all the cuts and holes and prepared a gag out of the bandages. Then I drank the potion and put the gag into place.

    The edges of the exterior wounds itched.

    The inside of my arm burned, and I went to the floor, and only the gag kept my screams from ringing out across the building.

    Tears clouded my eyes, but I forced myself up as pain traced itself up and down my arm. How repairing the damage hurt more than having the connections between flesh and bone ripped away in the first place I didn¡¯t know.

    I needed to get to my feet, though. This wouldn¡¯t be the worst of it.

    I grabbed the vial and headed for a closet, one with not a thick door, but it would have to do. The biosculpting would need to be undone now, paying the piper for delaying it.

    Things could never be easy. I¡¯d used Diabolism to halt the natural progression of things, and even if Diabolism did not inflict its own prices, interfering with a natural process would never end well. Having one¡¯s flesh shift in shape without the proper tools? Already agony.

    I did not want to experience what it was like with diabolism mixed in. I eyed the vial.

    There were spiders in the great forests across the sea to the east whose venom made the eyes of even the most attentive slump and close. I¡¯d gained five entire vials of the mixture, to use as a sedative, and over the years I¡¯d used four of them, a few drops at a time to dull pain, sometimes more to induce sleep. A deep sleep that was difficult to rouse from, the length increasing more and more for each additional drop.

    I considered the half-full vial before me.

    A few seconds left. Make your choice now.

    Would imbibing too much cause me to never wake? Or to sleep for weeks? But if I used too little, would I awaken in the middle of the changes?

    Enough hesitating then. I pulled the stopper and drank from the vial even as my finger bones pushed past flesh, bursting free as maggots of black crawled along the exposed bone.

    ***

    I coughed, hacking through lungs as something lodged in my windpipe. Something came loose, small chunks of darkness that dissipated after hitting the floor.

    I breathed deeply, then looked at my hand. It was colored a pale shade of blue now, not the deep crimson I¡¯d been for several years. I felt my horns, gone from straight to curved. The changes back had taken. For the most part.

    They¡¯d been closed up but the stumps of missing fingers were still there, I did not have a tongue, and my eye was still missing. Problems for when I had biosculpting tools in hand.

    The inside of the closet and my mind were quiet. Had the biosculpting somehow expelled the Imp?

    Damnations, the Imp hissed in my ear. Since I know you¡¯ll never willingly bite a human to eat it, two full cows, or I¡¯ll consider this contract in violation.

    Ah. Of course, I couldn¡¯t be that lucky. Still, complaining about the contract would get it nowhere since I didn¡¯t hold that. I needed it willing to help me though, and not trying to sabotage me.

    My clothes clung to me tightly, pulled over a taller frame. I had a spare set in the stash, so it was time to fish them out and go meet my newest partners in this little escapade.

    Assuming they weren¡¯t rethinking after seeing a Duke of the Hells peering at them through a hole in reality. Their fault for leaving me only a Diabolism focus as my method of escape.

    I didn¡¯t think they¡¯d see it that way.

 Chapter 34 - In Which a Tongue is Gained

    It was afternoon by the time I¡¯d woken up, and not on the same day as I¡¯d swallowed the sedative.

    I¡¯d gotten dressed and tried to get used to being in my old body once again. Missing the door knob when trying to open the door and the number of times a hoof had hit something told me it would not be fast. Hopefully, it would be faster than it had taken me to be used to being Katheryn Falara.

    It¡¯s what you get for having your other body be such a contrast to your first. The Imp cackled in my head after I¡¯d hit it against a wooden beam.

    It¡¯d had a whole slew of comments about both the bodies I picked, most of which I ignored. The Imp also claimed only a day had passed and now wanted three cows for being forced to wait so long with no food at all.

    It was getting more insistent, which was not a good sign. I did not need it in a mood to warp my flesh.

    I at least confirmed the time passage when I¡¯d put a few coins into a newspaper boy¡¯s hands and gotten it across I wanted to buy one. It was a day later, and at least my exploits only made the second page after a few more noteworthy events. More marches in the Infernal Quarter, including a clash that the newspaper claimed had resulted in a hundred dead, which I doubted. Then a fire at a factory, rumours of war upcoming with the Drakelords in the south, trouble in the colonies in the west, and there halfway down the second page a mention of an Infernal going on a rampage at Lady Karsin¡¯s estate.

    No mention of Diabolism. Interesting.

    I pulled my hat down to cover more of my face as I walked, sure to keep my empty eye socket as covered as I could. Missing eyes weren¡¯t uncommon, considering how many were survivors of being conscripted, but the less potential linking of me to that incident, the better.

    Especially since I needed to head out of the Quarter.

    ***

    It took two hours to get out of the quarter and near to Dawes and Voltar¡¯s residence. I kept myself a respectful distance away, partially because of a desire for no one to see me near there, and partially because it was too crowded to get near.

    It was hard to tell what was worse, the crowd of reporters waiting, staring at the front door waiting for a glimpse of the great detective, or the crowd of definitely just everyday laborers and work people who all happened to be taking their breaks right on this street.

    At least have some class and wait at the end of the street like I did.

    I wasn¡¯t actually on the corner, or hells forbid lurking in a doorway or on top of a roof. All of those were entirely too difficult to pull off in open daylight, so instead, I sat down by the roadway, a crude sign stating my status as a veteran of the underground wars. I glanced down either end of the street as I waited out of geniune nervousness. I wasn¡¯t just selling the illusion of an Infernal dreading the moment she got sent scurrying back to the Quarter for soliciting in a nicer neighborhood.

    Even if I was taller as Malvia, larger, an entirely different shade, an altogether different shape of horns, even with all that, an Infernal showing up on Voltar¡¯s doorstep in public view would be too obvious. Especially missing an eye and several fingers. At that point, even Lord Montague would put two and two together regarding who I was.

    Well, perhaps I was being paranoid. But after everything that had happened, I did not want burning my identity as Katheryn Falara to go to waste.

    You couldn¡¯t guard against everything. I could just hope I¡¯d guarded against enough.

    You could count on urchins for a lot of things. Excellent service if you promised payment ahead of time. Generally not being able to read. Knowing to be discreet when paid well. Betraying you when someone else paid even more.

    Because of that, the message was pretty innocent as far as messages went. An invitation to dine from Madam Carmelia Rouves to Voltar at a small cafe. I was pretending to be a servant of hers.

    I couldn¡¯t hide what I looked like from the urchin, but I could disguise it as being part of something else. A rendezvous between Voltar and his rumored criminal lover would lead people on the wrong track.

    If not¡­well, a paranoid enough mind would always make connections between things. Mine had.

    Voltar had an entire network of urchins he relied upon occasionally, so this was a better bet than any other. At a minimum, I was sure the message would reach the detective. He was, despite any of his faults, a very good tipper.

    Of course, I hadn¡¯t seen the little gremlin I¡¯d paid off show up at the front door yet. There were other entrances to the house, but I could only keep an eye on one. That and hope I hadn¡¯t wasted eight pennies and a very extensive written explanation about how Voltar would give him ten pounds.

    I had company as well, company I was trying very hard not to stare at. Not that his waxy, discolored skin didn¡¯t draw the gaze, but of all the people to run into on this street, this one seemed a coincidence too far.

    The front door of the house opened, and a pair of figures emerging from within. I did my best not to stir from my slouch, but those closer perked up.

    For a moment, then a call rose from the side of the house.

    ¡°They¡¯re coming out the back door!¡± someone yelled, and immediately half of the group on the street went to the back of the house while the two figures continued out the front door, drawing even more with them.

    Ah. Body doubles? Illusions? Either way, it meant even more chances of me not finding the real duo.

    ¡°You know, you are being far too cautious about this,¡± the other Infernal told me.

    My head spun around, my hand going for a knife in my coat. The other Infernal winked at me as I drew it out.

    ¡°Perhaps don''t do that. Like I said, far too cautious. Caution that is perhaps due, but do you know how many one-eyed Infernals missing fingers there are in this city? Too many for you to not just come to the front door and trust a message to the whims of an urchin. Door across the way. Just wait a few minutes first, please.¡±

    With that, he got up and walked across to a modest home across the way, entering as if he owned the place. If he was who I suspected, he probably did.

    I gave the door a wary glance. Damnations, how much had I fallen for over the last few days? More than I¡¯d realized.

    In for a penny. It wasn¡¯t like I had much of a choice, it was this or wait till nightfall. And even that probably wouldn¡¯t clear out most of those here. I went up to the door, to the indifference of the watchers who had stayed, and tried the handle. Unlocked.

    ¡°Miss Harrow! Welcome to my humble abode!¡± Voltar seemed to be in a cheery mode, seemingly not bothered at all by what had occurred at the tower. He and Dawes were both seated in a front parlor, a pair of teacups and a pot set between them.

    Oh, how I¡¯d love a cup, but swallowing without a tongue was begging to choke me.

    Baah, no food? Only that flavored water you desire so much.

    I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. The damn thing loved me indulging my love for the drink. It only was upset I didn¡¯t drink something more addictive as often.

    I raised a hand in greeting. All I could do outside of making some incomprehensible noise at him.

    ¡°It seems that you are still missing a few different things,¡± he said, gesturing to my eye, then to my half-formed figures.

    I shrugged. I retrieved a sheet of paper from inside my coat, on which I¡¯d wrote a brief message.

    I need my Biosculpting tools to bring my tongue back. I swallowed what it turned into so that¡¯ll be the easiest to fix. The eye will take more time. Where are my tools?

    ¡°Well,¡± Voltar said after looking at my writing. ¡°I have them, but we never agreed on what the terms of our agreement would be, so I think-¡±

    Dawes¡¯ elbow jabbed into his ribs as I rose from my chair, reaching for a knife.

    ¡°Voltar, this is going to be difficult enough to explain without adding that you¡¯re blackmailing Harrow besides bringing her into your latest case,¡± Dawes said with a scowl. ¡°Please do not make my life any more difficult than you already are.¡±

    Interesting. I knew Dawes had a leash, government-issued, around Voltar¡¯s throat, but it must be a bigger one than I¡¯d assumed. This couldn¡¯t be a regular occurrence either, people would notice if the doctor was ordering around the detective this blatantly.

    ¡°Yes, yes,¡± Voltar said before his face sobered. ¡°We will return them to you, although I¡¯m to understand replacing the fingers and eye will not be easy?¡±

    I resisted the urge to ram my head onto the table. Could he not just give me my tools back so we could talk about this?

    I gestured for them to return the piece of paper.

    Difficult but not impossible. I¡¯ll need to ingest the working ingredients of those body parts or have them on hand to work with. The chief difficulty is construction, especially with the eye, the second most complex organ in the body. It¡¯ll take the better part of a day to reconstruct one, as opposed to the tongue, which is mostly just muscle. Therefore I¡¯d prefer to start on this now, instead of wasting time.

    ¡°We may not have time for you to do that,¡± Dawes warned. ¡°Your stunt on Lady Karsin¡¯s estates will make things accelerate.¡±

    I glared up at the two of them. It wasn¡¯t exactly my fault that they¡¯d left that as my only escape route.

    ¡°She is right about getting this started early,¡± Voltar said, grabbing the box and sliding it my way.

    I snatched it up, took the lid off, and grabbed the three pieces of silver inside. I looked them over, making sure the inscriptions were laid in correctly and that no one had swapped out one of the tools.

    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    For Diabolism, a focus was a tool to aid and help, not a necessity. Complicated workings could be spoiled by errant thoughts or distractions. The more powerful castings could cause a backlash if you were distracted or result in effects you didn¡¯t intend. But the simplest castings could be done without the focus, and more complicated ones as you learn more.

    For Biosculpting, you needed tools to make it even possible. Every little working was a complicated adjustment, needing to account for biology and making sure it would stay in place once done. You could work Biosculpting if you wanted to, but it would require large amounts of energy to convince flesh to shift, and the best you could hope for in the aftermath is that it wouldn¡¯t be immediately fatal for whoever you sculpted.

    More complex tools improved what you could do, but these three were the cornerstone, each matched to a specific part of what magic called the contingent parts of a person. Mind, soul, and body. Two were to be kept level as you forcibly adjusted the last.

    This wouldn¡¯t be too difficult. The parts that had once been my tongue were still inside me, swallowed. I settled the three tools on the table in a triangle, grabbing a knife from the belt and nicking a finger. Drops of blood on each, a chime in my ears for each one I fed.

    With it mostly being inside myself, I didn¡¯t need to sacrifice too much. Some additional blood to attune them to me. Time was the main sacrifice, as I took ahold of the magic being emitted and sent it inside myself, searching in my gut.

    They found the contingent pieces scattered through my digestive process, and the first step was removing them from parts they¡¯d become enmeshed or absorbed into, from entire chunks to the smallest bits and pieces. The Diabolism that had turned my tongue liquid had dissolved it into constituent chemicals, so for most of this I could only hope I was correct and I wasn¡¯t wrecking my digestion to make a replacement.

    I was reasonably sure. You were taught first as a Biosculptor to keep track of your own body, the constituent parts and the exact quantities within. Of course, I¡¯d been going through five years of wear and tear with these constituent parts in different configurations, but best not to think too hard about that.

    I slowly built it piece by piece, using the magic to drag constituent parts up my throat and assemble them into muscles, glands, and epithelium. I slowly put them into place, assembling at a snail¡¯s pace inside my mouth.

    Over the next hour, I reconstituted my tongue a little piece by piece, building it up, spilling more blood as necessary as Voltar and Dawes watched and drank tea. Occasionally, one left, but not both.

    After reassembling it and scouring my body for any hints of missing pieces, I released the magic. I took a breath.

    Immediately, I started coughing.

    ¡°Everything alright?¡± Dawes asked me.

    ¡°Yes, yes,¡± I said drily, waving them off. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­euggh. Reconstituting my tongue doesn¡¯t exactly make for a pleasant taste. Or do wonders for my throat. Do either of you have any food? Or perhaps some tea?¡±

    The two traded glances, and then Dawes felt around in the pockets of his coat.

    ¡°Bit of salted pork and some bread crust?¡± He offered. ¡°We drank all the tea.¡±

    Of course they had. I took the offered food.

    Soldier¡¯s rations, but I¡¯d take anything in my mouth besides the taste of reconstituting flesh. I devoured both, which were gone far too fast, but the taste was¡­not gone, but at least my mouth didn¡¯t taste of that. They also found me some water, which did wonders for my throat even if it was not tea.

    ¡°Thank you, doctor,¡± I told him. ¡°You would not believe what the taste of one¡¯s tongue is like. You! How the hell does that disguise work?¡±

    Voltar smiled. ¡°What disguise?¡±

    I glared and decided that wasn¡¯t worth pursuing. ¡°What was the plan going forward from this? Since you¡¯ve decided my offer was worth taking?¡±

    ¡°Well, the first step would be sharing information. As you might guess, I have a better idea of your last few days than you might have thought, but I may have missed something. A full account, please?¡±

    Ah yes, right after I¡¯d dragged my tongue up through my throat, I needed to talk extensively. Brilliant. I left little out of my account, mostly the visit to Arsene and anything involving Tolman being played down a bit. He did not need to know of their connection to Versalicci for now. Dawes left partway through, talking about paying the urchin for the message and also seeing how much of the watcher¡¯s brigade outside the house down the road was left.

    ¡°An interesting few days you¡¯ve had, outside of a few falsehoods, but nothing I didn¡¯t know already. I¡¯d prefer this started with being truthful with each other.¡±

    ¡°And I¡¯d prefer you didn¡¯t leave me in the dark till the last possible moment on us being in this together to any degree, Voltar. Did you even have a plan if I didn¡¯t start using Diabolism?¡±

    ¡°That is fair. I did have alternatives, but you are here, and just in time for one lead that needs to be pursued, and you are best suited for it.¡±

    I knew this would come up. It was impossible for it not to come up.

    ¡°If either you or Dawes can guarantee I¡¯ll come out of meeting him alive, I¡¯ll be happy to go ask. If not, you¡¯re the Empire¡¯s greatest detective. You can figure another way out.¡±

    Voltar raised an eyebrow. ¡°So soon into our partnership and already trying to fob off what you¡¯d bring to the table onto us? Poor form.¡±

    ¡°I am not bringing a relationship with the Black Flame to the table,¡± I said. ¡°I bring animosity, at best. I left. I left in a way where Versalicci is unlikely to feel kindly towards me afterward, considering I robbed him and then deserted him in his time of greatest need. Most of the old guard he still has would feel even worse about me, considering only a few of them are in it for the criminal part. Golvar, sad as it is to say, will probably end up being the nicest because he saw the Black Flame as criminal enterprise first, revolutionary organization second.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s ignoring a few things,¡± Voltar said. ¡°You bring a certain relationship to Versalicci. He¡¯s not likely to turn his back on.¡±

    My tone turned chilly. ¡°Those kinds of betrayals are among the worst, Voltar. Take it from one who suffered from them. That makes him even less likely not to cut me up.¡±

    ¡°Not everyone is you,¡± Voltar replied. ¡°Versalicci is a pragmatic sort. He will not turn his back on a connection because of what would be a relatively minor betrayal at the end of something.¡±

    ¡°I¡­.¡± I paused. Several people had fed me the same advice, and I kept on rejecting it. And I could hardly say I knew better. Hells, these last few days had proven I did not.

    ¡°He won¡¯t kill you. Ignoring the personal feelings involved, he still thinks of you as useful. He also hasn¡¯t taken revenge on you yet, and while you¡¯re right about how Versalicci treats traitors, five years are pushing the boundaries of when to do that. If he needs to maintain his authority, he would have done it sooner.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s likely not told anyone outside of his little inner circle,¡± I said. ¡°No need for the rank and file to know. No immediate thoughts of defiance. Hells, if you¡¯re right and he wants me alive, best that way. Which will make this a little easier.¡±

    ¡°We agree then?¡±

    I sighed. ¡°I¡¯ll do it. No promises about what I¡¯ll get. And I do not like doing this after the hell that was yesterday. I¡¯m already going into a snake¡¯s den at your hands. For a second time, arguably.¡±

    ¡°True. Let me not ask anything else of you then. What do you have to ask me?¡±

    The truth to this entire thing? Then again, if he knew everything, I wouldn¡¯t be heading to Versalicci¡¯s. I should start somewhere small.

    ¡°The warehouse?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Emptied by the time myself and Dawes got there, and for the Watch as well if my old contacts haven¡¯t turned on me. Magic is likely involved beyond even the abilities you described, which bear a resemblance to a specific magical creature.¡±

    ¡°Shape-changers,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s one of the few things that makes sense. Except it doesn¡¯t because why this?¡±

    ¡®This¡¯ could have referred to many numbers of things, but Voltar seemed to catch on.

    ¡°Motivation is one of the bigger unknowns at the moment. I can say that Shape-changers haven¡¯t operated in these parts for nearly a half-century. Of course, that¡¯s the official history¡¯s stance, but if they were careful, no one would know. I¡¯ve known a couple, but they don¡¯t work around here, and I could hardly see them doing something like this.¡±

    ¡°So, just another mystery instead of an answer,¡± I said.

    ¡°Most mysteries are like that. Threads are at odds until you connect them. There are, of course, the victims, Edward Montague and Desmond Karsin. Heirs to two royal houses that seem to be opposite to each other but with closing ties. One is old nobility with significant soft power led by a hidebound traditionalist who has fathered many children yet is often at odds with them and is perhaps not the most personable. The other is led by a socially adroit, non-human in a country where nobility often is not that, has an adopted child, and has strong economic power. They seem quite an odd pick of victims, especially since the intent may not have been to kill.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s assuming the people pulling the strings to have me craft the cure were the same as the ones trying to kill them,¡± I noted.

    ¡°Yes, and while timing leads me to suspect as such, one can never assume for certain until you establish all the facts. And all the players accounted for.¡±

    And we certainly had plenty of those running around. ¡°Nobles. You. Me. Black Flame. The Watch, tangentially. The Pure-Bloods.¡±

    ¡°The Pure-bloods are one of the more interesting threads at the moment and are what I will pursue next,¡±

    ¡°The Pure-bloods? I don¡¯t think it¡¯s that deep. Someone hired them to take the box from Golvar, and since then they¡¯ve come after me out of revenge for dead comrades. Mind you, they had to spend coin to find out I was even involved, but I¡¯ve seen people do more for less for revenge.¡±

    ¡°I disagree. Let us take your statement earlier about the Black Flame. The membership is split between those who see it as a gang and those who see it as a political movement. That is by design, since it¡¯s part of how Versalicci maintains loyalty, but at its core, you believe it is a criminal enterprise. Ah, Dawes!¡±

    The doctor had come back, carrying a fresh pot with tea in it, the smell immediately perking me up.

    ¡°You like tea, Miss Harrow?¡± Dawes asked.

    ¡°I prefer a cup now and then,¡± I answered. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say I feel strongly about it.¡±

    The Imp started cackling inside my head.

    ¡°It¡¯s just your tail is¡­¡± the doctor hesitated.

    ¡°Wagging,¡± Voltar said.

    The Imp was howling now with laughter as I deliberately held my head still. And my tail, frozen mid-swing. The hells, I hadn¡¯t done anything like this since I was ten!

    ¡°Involuntary muscle spasms caused by the recent changing of my body back,¡± I blurted.

    ¡°Ah, well, that¡¯s a shame because putting our good china at risk is something I cannot abide, so perhaps you¡¯ll have to go without-¡±

    ¡°Your china will be fine,¡± I said, glaring at him. ¡°You were talking about the Pure Bloods?¡±

    I accepted a cup from Dawes, taking a deep and delighted sip while Voltar went back to his point.

    ¡°The balance between ideology and profit. Versalicci¡¯s group is quite the exception to this in how he operates because he attempted something radical and recruited for it. Most groups, while they make for nice bindings of members, there are other groups for them to join if political beliefs are their primary focus. So would be the case for the Pure Bloods, especially given their small size. Small, weak groups are not ones to be so brazen about their politics, or they meet quick, messy ends.¡±

    I deliberately paced myself as I drained the cup, not following the example of that tea-gulping lunatic Gregory. ¡°I¡¯ll admit to little experience with the group, but you could be right.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t pay them any mind either,¡± Voltar said. ¡°Small-time docks gang, involved in smuggling and protection racket, and a bit of a reputation for brutality, all of which I learned from Dawes.¡±

    ¡°I sometimes do charity work in districts closer to the house,¡± Dawes explained. ¡°I¡¯ve patched up some of their victims in the past. The description was of a bunch of close-minded thugs with a racket and some standards enforced by their founder before he choked to death on his own fist. He couldn¡¯t control his mouth around a half-ogre about their ¡®nature¡¯, and the half-ogre took offense. And never got a scratch on her in return. Until yesterday. They dredged her body from inside the Nover.¡±

    Probably from on top of the Nover, given the season and the river¡¯s resemblance to a sludge pudding instead of a body of water.

    ¡°Sounds like a fitting end. For the gang boss, I mean. I think I see the bones of what you¡¯re laying down. Their behavior. Sure, it sounds like they didn¡¯t think well of other races, but getting hired to ambush and knife a Black Flame member is a bit out of their wheelhouse.¡±

    ¡°Far out of their wheelhouse,¡± Voltar added. ¡°The watch found the bodies of four more members in the tunnels a day after their fight with you and Golvar. All indications are Golvar was the one who knifed them.¡±

    ¡°I said probably,¡± Dawes interjected. ¡°The wounds match the blade, but anything more than that is conjecture.¡±

    ¡°Nonsense. He¡¯s exactly the right height and build for where those knife wounds were, and-¡°

    ¡°Pardon,¡± I said. ¡°But we¡¯re a little off track. I think I see the pattern being reached here. They¡¯re doing things far too big for their britches, and with resources they shouldn¡¯t have. They don¡¯t sound big enough to have a mage. Certainly not big enough to throw their weight around with the Delver Guilds.¡±

    ¡°That is interesting. I did not know before your account of the case, and it seems like a major overreach.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t know?¡± I asked. They had visited, and it seemed strange for him not to have ferreted such things out.

    ¡°The guild master seemed off-balance when I visited, but that appeared to be more because of recent tragedies within his own guild than anything else. I also kept my visit there short. You have not been the only one spending the last few days running about.¡±

    ¡°Well, not only have they been putting pressure on the guild, they¡¯ve been approaching nobles, asking for funds, patronage. Bluntly, from the sounds of it, and not successfully. Most nobles have other horses they can back in that race.¡±

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s true, but not every noble is intelligent enough to realize they have that other horse. Or perhaps they know that such a group of individuals is more easily controlled than a broader movement.¡±

    Ah. Of course.

    ¡°They¡¯ve found themselves a patron,¡± I said. ¡°One strong enough they feel like they can take on Versalicci. One who is paying enough that they can expand their ranks and hire better talent. And that same patron either is a Shape-changer, or also has a grip on them as well.¡±

 Chapter 35 - An Emptied Bag

    Moving into the house didn¡¯t take long.

    The house I was currently in, not the one down the street which was also theirs but served as a way to keep attention off of themselves. There was a tunnel linking the two, which meant dedicated observers had puzzled something out by now.

    Then again, not everyone would think to hire a mage of the earth.

    Most of what I still owned had either been picked up by Voltar and Dawes when they took me to the nobles or was still in that warehouse with my old stash, covered up once again. I¡¯d head there tomorrow to collect it, assuming I was still alive.

    For now though, this meant going through the two bags of evidence I¡¯d collected from that warehouse in Garretsville, laid out across a long table in the attic where I was going to room for now.

    ¡°Voltar¡¯s already looked at most of it, but decided it was inconclusive, and that they are all free of trackers,¡± Dawes told me. ¡°We have made a list out of these to try with the Watch and see if anyone used them recently or in the historical records.¡±

    ¡®These¡¯ were the sheets of paper I¡¯d grabbed, all of them being licenses, certificates, and other bits and pieces associated with identities. All of them were fake, and after that encounter in the warehouse, it wasn¡¯t hard to tell why.

    ¡°I¡¯d have to imagine that¡¯ll be limited in its use,¡± I mused. ¡°They¡¯re shape-changers, so you¡¯d imagine they could just change identities if they realized several of them have been burned.¡±

    ¡°Voltar believed it was not likely to lead anywhere. If they were for identities in use, they wouldn¡¯t be in a secret room under a warehouse.¡±

    I nodded as I shifted through some of them. ¡°True. Some of these are pretty old as well. They might be for ones they¡¯ve abandoned. Maybe nostalgia? Sometimes it can be hard letting go of an old identity when you¡¯ve invested enough into it.¡±

    ¡°Speaking from experience?¡±

    Not discussing that. ¡°If he thinks these aren¡¯t in use, why contact the Watch about them? It sounds like they aren¡¯t on the best terms with you two of these days.¡±

    ¡°It depends on what part of the Watch. Some parts have never enjoyed working with Voltar. But Voltar wants to see if he can establish a pattern of behavior for some of these shape-changers,¡±

    ¡°He thinks they have set personalities?¡± I asked. ¡°I would think the opposite, given how much they change form.¡±

    ¡°Possibly, but if one¡¯s mind was malleable enough to change whenever it wanted to, one would imagine they would get lost in the role. Some personality traits across all their identities to keep their sense of self.¡±

    I frowned. That was a fair point. And had sent another question into my mind.

    ¡°How much do you know about Shapechangers Dawes?¡±

    ¡°Not much,¡± he confessed. ¡°Voltar doesn¡¯t either. They haven¡¯t been a concern for a while.¡±

    ¡°That seems odd,¡± I said. ¡°You would think a race of people who could completely change shape at will would be more of a concern. Enough that information on them would be more widely spread. Can I ask a favor?¡±

    ¡°You want me to see if I can find a book on them, don¡¯t you?¡±

    I nodded, a little embarrassed. ¡°I realize asking you to run errands is a little-¡°

    ¡°Don¡¯t bother, Voltar already asked me to do the same. And it¡¯s not like you¡¯ll have time later.¡±

    I grimaced at the reminder of what would be happening this afternoon. ¡°Moving past these to the next object.¡±

    The next objects were the vials of clear liquid.

    ¡°Voltar had them tested. Angel¡¯s Sorrow.¡±

    I picked one up, looked it over, and then decided it wasn¡¯t worth burning the tip of my finger again.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know whether or not this makes the case against Versalicci weaker,¡± I said. ¡°I could see him keeping them stored in a far-off place so as not to be linked with him, but Garretsville seems a bit too far out of his comfort zone. Unless the shapeshifters are proxies but....that route of logic feels like trying to force a puzzle.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t pretend to know how his mind works and will defer to you and Voltar on that,¡± Dawes said.

    I laughed. ¡°I don¡¯t think even his paramour ever knew how his mind worked. The tomes are alchemical, and while I want to read through some of them in more detail later, I don¡¯t think we¡¯ll find any secrets in them. Which leaves these.¡±

    I gestured to the pile of rocks that I had swiped from the underground room.

    ¡°I¡¯m at a bit of a loss why you put rocks in here,¡± Dawes confessed.

    ¡°It didn¡¯t seem like they¡¯d have tracers on them,¡± I said. ¡°And I figured if they were important enough to hide away, they had to mean something. But now, yes, I see your point.¡±

    ¡°You haven¡¯t checked if they are magic rocks?¡± Dawes said. ¡°Peered into the arcane?¡±

    I glared at him. ¡°No, and until I get my other eye back, I won¡¯t try. This isn¡¯t the first time I¡¯ve had to rebuild one, and I do not want to make it two.¡±

    Dawes hesitantly looked from the rocks to me and back again. ¡°I was under the impression that peering into the arcane is not usually that dangerous?¡±

    I sighed and forced myself to relax. ¡°No, it¡¯s not. Sorry, just¡­nerves. It should be fine, but best not to risk it. I¡¯m just reminded because¡­first time I lost one, Versalicci was trying to get the true name out of a devil he¡¯d summoned. Typically, you try to trick the devil, do research, and things like that. He didn¡¯t want to wait, so he decided to ferret out the true name by flaying the creature down to its bones and having me look over them while it was still screaming. I found the true name, which proceeded to leap into my eye and start trying to devour my soul through my pupil.¡±

    Dawes remained quiet throughout that, a look of disgust slowly crawling across his face.

    ¡°Ah. I can see why you are¡­¡±

    ¡°So reluctant to head back there?¡± I shuddered. ¡°Yes. But since Voltar apparently thinks I¡¯ll have the best chance of survival¡­enough on that. Speaking of the diabolic arts, what are the limits on that?¡±

    Dawes frowned, idly drumming his fingers on one of the rocks.

    ¡°You should be able to practice Diabolism. Government watched and restricted Diabolism, and if you live longer than a month, they¡¯ll expect you to be trained to their standards, but for right now they¡¯ll trust our judgment on it.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve got to be decently high up in Imperial government to sign off on this,¡± I said, looking at Dawes over the bags.

    He sighed, then considered the ceiling for a bit before answering.

    ¡°I suppose I technically am, but probably much less than you think. You¡¯re thinking this started with someone from Her Majesty¡¯s Government assigned to Voltar to watch over him, but it¡¯s the other way around.¡±

    I flipped the statement around in my head and frowned. ¡°Voltar assigned you to be part of Her Majesty¡¯s Government?¡±

    ¡°No! They approached me after the first dozen or so cases. With the implication that if I didn¡¯t agree, they¡¯d assign someone themselves, but they respected his work and they respected my record.¡±

    ¡°Still coercive,¡± I noted. ¡°Act as a monitor and handler for your friend under us or we¡¯ll do it for you. Why?¡±

    He frowned. ¡°Why assign me as a handler? I don¡¯t know. I wish I did know, because I¡¯m not good at this, and I¡¯m not enthusiastic about Voltar expanding my responsibility.¡±

    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    ¡°No, although that¡¯s a good question as well. Why monitor Voltar? Especially if it¡¯s early on in his career. You two didn¡¯t earn much notoriety until the case of the Silver Slipper, which was a year after you two met.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps they simply saw the potential of what could come of a brilliant and inquisitive mind and how it needed guidance."

    A thought struck me. ¡°He is human isn¡¯t he?¡±

    Being a non-human entity would be a reason to be monitored, depending on what he was.

    Dawes frowned. ¡°He¡¯s human.¡±

    ¡°Very convincing. He¡¯s not some kind of fey, is he?¡±

    ¡°No, he¡¯s not some kind of fey,¡± Dawes responded wearily. ¡°Back to the topic at hand. Base rules, Diabolism usage has to be approved by me. Voltar can have input, but you are not to use it at his direction alone.¡±

    ¡°More than fair,¡± I answered. ¡°Except for the first time when we end up separated, or in a fight, and I can¡¯t check with you what is and isn¡¯t safe to use in that moment.¡±

    Dawes chewed on that for a few moments while I put my teapot on the table. Battered, bent, but not broken.

    ¡°It¡¯s not that I can¡¯t see your point, but any allowance of Diabolism where I¡¯m not there to monitor it¡­..this will already be a hard sell to the people who made themselves my superiors. Telling them there are conditions that would let you off the proverbial leash would not help with that.¡±

    That was fair. Hells, if there was another Diabolist near me, I¡¯d want full control of what they could cast near me as well. That went for about a dozen schools of magic total since any number of spells could have damaged far beyond the caster¡¯s intent. Diabolism was the easiest for that to happen, though.

    ¡°Perhaps with some very hard limits in place? I¡¯m not allowed to kill anyone with Diabolism, perhaps no permanent harm?¡±

    ¡°Like you did at Lady Karsin¡¯s estate? Explaining away a temporary portal to the Hells that a Duke peered through and started laughing in public is going to be the brunt of my work. Do you know the panic you caused when that thing opened up?¡±

    I winced. I¡­I hadn¡¯t thought of that.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t intend it. Backlash mixed with Infernal magic reaching for¡­familial connection,¡± I said.

    ¡°Yes, that we know about. Voltar wants to sit you down when this is all done and see if he can fully sketch out that side of the family tree.¡±

    That shouldn¡¯t surprise me with everything else they knew. ¡°Well, I¡¯m not the person to ask about that.¡±

    ¡°You could ask the one who is that person,¡± Dawes noted.

    ¡°If it comes up, sure,¡± I said. ¡°Otherwise, I¡¯m not bothering. There¡¯s enough on my plate already, and little to show for it.¡±

    ¡°You are alive.¡±

    I grinned. ¡°I suppose I am. Shows how far I¡¯ve come, hasn¡¯t it? If you¡¯d talked to me about eight years ago, I¡¯d have said being alive was one of the most treasured things I had. These days, it¡¯s just an assumption. Not that it might last much longer.¡±

    ¡°I am curious what happened to the demon? The one he forced you to see the true name of?¡±

    What escaped my throat couldn¡¯t be called a chuckle, more a strangled laugh. ¡°I think he uses it to smoke.¡±

    ***

    I¡¯d insisted on regrowing my fingers before I left, so it was mid-afternoon by the time I reached the underground.

    Did I necessarily need them? No. Did I want the torn-out strips of flesh replaced and the two fingers that had been shot off back? Yes, and the lack of pain was a bonus.

    Although truth be told, some of it had been time-wasting. Just like I was again by not sending out a signal.

    I eyed the tattoo on my hand, black ink in the shape of a rising fire extending from my wrist to my knuckles. All I needed to do was press it, but one thing held me back.

    There was a possibility, no matter how much I¡¯d argued he was too smart to try a scheme like this, that Versalicci was behind this. It made little sense why he would do this, but it didn¡¯t make sense why the Shapechangers would do this either. If this was some scheme of his, I was about to venture right into the monster¡¯s den, throat bared and ready to be torn open.

    Then again, if Versalicci was employing Shapechangers, I didn¡¯t stand a chance either.

    I touched the tattoo, pressing the three tips of the flame. They glowed a dull orange, the new coloration spreading down the flame until the entirety of it glowed crimson and orange.

    And so you drag me to the master¡¯s progeny once again, The Imp whined, probably more upset at being dragged to the man who held it¡¯s contract. A fourth cow, student.

    That would get Versalicci¡¯s attention, and he¡¯d dispatch people to come fetch me. Unfortunately, these were all personalized, so he¡¯d know who¡¯d sent a metaphorical beacon ablaze.

    I settled down and waited, just sitting in the middle of the tunnel. Trying to hide would just give off an impression I didn¡¯t want.

    Would it be time to change masks? It might make it easier to get back into the mindset of Malvia Harrow even a year before leaving. It also wasn¡¯t a pleasant mask to get into the habit of wearing.

    Dawes had remarked about Shapechangers potentially having a few parts of themselves that they kept consistent between identities so they could keep themselves with a sense of identity.

    I did not want to think about what traits of Malvia Harrow were core to my identity.

    No. I¡¯d not put that mask on just for this.

    Ten minutes passed before six other Infernals walked down the tunnels towards me.

    They hadn¡¯t bothered with lanterns of their own, and I was once again left cursing my lack of good night vision. Trying to sculpt my eyes to be capable of it had resulted in one of those other times I¡¯d needed to rebuild an eye from scratch.

    They stopped just at the edge of my lantern¡¯s light, close enough that I could tell the one in the middle was the same woman who¡¯d tried to fetch me once for Versalicci and then delivered his vague warning against visiting my mother.

    I raised a hand in greeting, the back facing them so they could clearly see the tattoo across it.

    ¡°Harrow reporting in,¡± I said. ¡°I have information the boss will want to hear, relating to Voltar and Angel¡¯s Sorrow.¡±

    ¡°I know who you are,¡± the leader hissed, eyes glaring at me with more than diabolically inherited fire. ¡°Are you saying you forgot about me already? Too insignificant to notice?¡±

    Oh joy, she had a grudge against me. Why did she have a grudge against me?

    ¡°No, I remember who you are, even if we never traded names,¡± I answered. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose I can get an answer on why you want the proverbial strip torn out of my flank?¡±

    ¡°For the proverbial strip torn out of mine, for failing in my tasks twice and now being relegated to this,¡± she said, her and her crew moving closer.

    I remained sitting. Trying to scramble to my feet wouldn¡¯t accomplish anything and showing weakness like that might just provoke one of them.

    None of the other five with her seemed too inclined to be on my side on this. Three of them looked like they¡¯d been outside my lab when I and Tolman had left, and all three bore fresh scars from the fight after with the Pure Bloods.

    Also, it was not my fault, but it was pretty clear where they thought the blame lay for that.

    ¡°You realize that if I know something important and you make me incapable of telling Versalicci that, it¡¯ll be more than the proverbial strip torn out?¡±

    She grinned. ¡°You don¡¯t need to be standing to talk.¡±

    Very hostile, and with the notion that beating me would not result in anything bad happening to her. Either standards had gone lax, or someone had seeded that idea in her head.

    Oh, damnations. This was Giovanni doing a test. Again. Only now, I was on the opposite side of the test, and from her expression, I would not be as good as Golvar was at talking the testee out of it.

    I looked among her companions, and I didn¡¯t find a sympathetic one among them. Ah, well. At least they weren¡¯t from the real old days, because those lot might go to knives immediately for my disappearance.

    ¡°If we must do this, let¡¯s just make it quick then,¡± I said, enjoying the extra fire it ignited in her eyes.

    She¡¯d be paying for that one way or another soon.

    The smug in me died when the first boot tip rammed my nose.

    ***

    Had I fallen asleep? My entire body ached, and gods, what had I been doing the night before? Everything was fuzzy, then it hurt when I tried to move like a thousand needles being driven in. People were talking near me, although I could only make so much of it out.

    ¡°-did you have to smash her face in this much? We¡¯re going to be lucky if the boss can make out what she¡¯s saying!¡±

    ¡°Who cares? They can patch her up if they want to. Kanes and Malachti both told me this little bitch is a traitor, that she deserves far worse, and that little act of civility Versalicci tells us to put on is his way of seeing how much any of us can stand her before smashing her face in. Now help me drag her in.¡±

    Hands reached for me, pulling me across the wooden floor. I didn¡¯t have the effort to resist, didn¡¯t have the effort to open my eyes. I could hear talking around me, scraps of voices familiar to me. We came to a halt, and then someone splashed something wet in my face.

    I coughed and sputtered, awareness returning as water ran down my face. That little-

    My thought was cut off as two of the patrol from the tunnel grabbed me and dragged me through a door onto a woven wool rug, my face falling into patterns of red and black. Blood trickled from a half-dozen places, adding to the red.

    I knew this carpet. Oh, nine fucking hells.

    I looked up, taking in the wood paneling, the well-stocked bar, the grand piano that was the source of the music, the large table set up in the middle with a young infernal woman, pink-skinned and in a crimson dress sat, looking at the interruption in a mixture of scandalized shock and horror.

    Laurata? No, her face was sharper, eyes not as hard. Laurata¡¯s replacement.

    At the piano, the figure stopped playing, getting up and bowing to the pink-skinned woman across the room, who didn¡¯t seem sure whether to politely clap or pay attention to me bleeding all over the floor.

    He bowed to her, then turned his attention to me, his expression that of a member of a family greeting one warmly after a long time separated. In his mind, that might even be the case.

    Giovanni Versalicci was a green-skinned Infernal with a goatee and curling thick horns, giving the impression of a ram which contrasted against the suit he wore, silver threads reflecting the light of the indoor lamps.

    Metal-threaded clothes. Swiftly joining top hats as the bane of my existence.

    He hadn¡¯t aged a day since I first met him. Hells he might even be younger. Depending on if he¡¯d gotten his hands on someone¡¯s soul recently, he may have reversed the ravages of time.

    ¡°Melissa,¡± he said, addressing my tormentor. ¡°I see you¡¯ve found your quarry in record time this time. Excellent, although for next time, not in here, please. The rug, blood, they don¡¯t mix well.¡±

    Like he hadn¡¯t sacrificed people on this rug.

    ¡°You were right on who set off the network, boss,¡± Melissa said as her two goons dragged me the rest of the way inside. ¡°Harrow here claims she has information related to Voltar she wants to relay.¡±

    ¡°I think I may know what that is,¡± he said, putting his shoe under my chin and using it to tilt my head back till I could see him staring down at me. ¡°You doing alright, Malvia?¡±

    ¡°Doing alright,¡± I said, or at least tried to. Instead, I dribbled blood all over his carpet and boot while something resembling words passed through my beat-up face. Versalicci¡¯s partner looked down in disgust, backing away as more blood dripped onto the carpet.

    ¡°Yeah, that sounds about right,¡± Versalicci said, as if he could actually hear me. ¡°It is honestly nice to see you again. You should have come on over sooner. You might have avoided something like this happening. Melissa, which one of the sentries decided it was a good idea to beat up my little sister?¡±

 Chapter 36 - Bargaining and Holy Water

    Melissa froze, her expression of smug satisfaction immediately turning to fear. The color drained out of her, leaving her nearly as white as a human. Her eyes flickered between my face and Versalicci. Comparing structures and details. Making connections. Sure, half of my ancestry came a few thousand miles away from his, but we did share one parent.

    I would have laughed if only I could get my face to move. It was too busy aching and oozing ichor onto my brother¡¯s carpet.

    ¡°Mr. Versalicci,¡± she stuttered. ¡°I¡­.I didn¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t know because I didn¡¯t tell you,¡± he said, tone light. ¡°I told you I wanted Malvia Harrow unharmed. Allowing for how difficult I know she can be this is a little much.¡±

    He¡¯d gotten closer to her the entire time. The rest of her crew subtly moved away, leaving her on her own, and got another croaking, attempted laugh out of me.

    ¡°Malvia, please stop drooling blood on my carpet. I know your mother didn¡¯t raise you like some wild animal.¡±

    I didn¡¯t think it was possible to increase the flow of blood out of me, but I was suddenly willing to try. I tried to say something else, only for my jaw to fail me once again. The hells had they broken that I couldn¡¯t form words? I¡¯d just fixed my fucking tongue!

    Melissa meanwhile, continued stammering out apologies and excuses in equal measure while her compatriots tried to put some distance between themselves and her.

    ¡°Melissa, please be quiet for a moment. Trish, the shelves behind the bar, second from the top, there will be a red bottle, thin-necked. Be a dear and grab it for me.¡±

    My consciousness faded again till I felt something being poured down my gullet, and reflexively I swallowed.

    Flesh knit itself together, and within seconds it sealed up my wounds. That potion had been more potent than anything I¡¯d ever made. What had been the base, phoenix blood, or maybe something related to a hydra?

    Either way, it left me finally awake and in the room with my half-brother and his goons.

    I sputtered a bit, coughing out a little of the potion. At some point, Laurata¡¯s replacement had left, and two new toughs had come in, flanking both of my sides. They¡¯d put me in a chair I didn¡¯t try to get out of. No need to take another punch to the face.

    Versalicci was seated across from me, considering.

    ¡°Hrrm, looks like the eye isn¡¯t coming back. Did Melissa carve that out, sister, or did someone else do it instead?¡±

    ¡°The eye¡¯s not her fault,¡± I said. ¡°That was something else that caused that injury, so don¡¯t hold it against her.¡±

    ¡°Your own work, isn¡¯t it?¡± Versalicci asked me. ¡°What have I told you about stunts like that, sister?¡±

    ¡°Given the choice between that and death, I¡¯ll take losing the eye,¡± I told him.

    ¡°Is this a test?¡± Melissa asked, realization dawning on her face.

    ¡°Yes,¡± I muttered, at the same time as Versalicci calmly stated ¡°No.¡±

    He turned to look at me, the smile fading just a little. ¡°Why dear sister, I hope you aren¡¯t implying-¡±

    ¡°That you arranging for me to be a test for one of your newest hire¡¯s self-restraint is something that you would do? Especially if it resulted in her turning my face into something you¡¯d find on a butcher¡¯s countertop? Yes.¡±

    ¡°Fair enough.¡± Versalicci got up, clapping his hands together. ¡°Everyone, if you don¡¯t mind, I think I¡¯d like to have a private chat, family affair and all that. Melissa, don¡¯t stray too far. We need to talk about your part in this later.¡±

    The toughs seemed reluctant to leave, one of them opening their mouth for some kind of protest, only for it to shut as Versalicci waved him off.

    ¡°Fawkes, if it sounds like my little sister is trying to kill me, you have my invitation to come inside, but if she manages it before you enter, I would deserve it.¡±

    A more ringing endorsement from the man himself to eat him if you can, the Imp whispered in my ear. Don¡¯t lie to yourself and say the idea isn¡¯t tempting.

    Outside of freeing the Imp from its contract and the fact the taste would be terrible, I wouldn¡¯t put it past Versalicci¡¯s flesh to poison me after eating it.

    Versalicci got up, heading over to the bar.

    ¡°New set of people,¡± I noted. ¡°Is everyone dead, then? I know that pyromancer you brought in is doing Biosculpting now, at least.¡±

    ¡°Oh, you¡¯d be surprised how little death has a way of sticking these days. I¡¯m talking to a person most here thought was dead right now.¡±

    I got out of the chair slowly, and he didn¡¯t seem to react. ¡°When is that going to be discussed?¡±

    ¡°Oh, later. Business first. I¡¯ll brew us some drinks. You take tea these days, right?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± I said, sitting down at one of the smaller tables. This was less a salon than it was a nobleman¡¯s parlor for hosting parties. Appearances. They¡¯d have stolen all of this, and it would all be prominent pieces as well. Now reserved for thugs and conmen to sit in while getting their orders from Versalicci.

    Or occasionally having their heads beaten in by Versalicci.

    There was the stocked bar Versalicci worked at, the piano, the entire missing wall that was instead a giant chasm probably ending in a several hundred-foot drop perhaps only a half dozen feet from me. Normal details for your average parlor.

    I kept a wary eye on Versalicci and the doors as I looked over the chasm. I couldn¡¯t see the bottom, even with lantern light.

    ¡°This is new,¡¯ I observed, looking over the curve of the stonework. ¡°I see you¡¯ve put a fair bit of effort into remaking Understreet.¡±

    ¡°Ah, ah. Don¡¯t call it that. Understreet was the past. This is the future we¡¯re building here.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s the future called, then?¡±

    ¡°Some of the younger recruits have called it the Street Beneath.¡±

    Of course, they have. Mortals, as unimaginative as those stone things you insist on making buildings with.

    ¡°Bricks. I did mean private for this conversation. Sleep, Xss¡¯thh¡¯zzrt.¡±

    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    I cocked my head to one side. That was the name of the Imp, which I refused to use both because it was hard on the tongue and I¡¯d chosen to stop being respectful to the demon they¡¯d stuck inside my brain.

    ¡°I can¡¯t tell if that worked,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s not saying anything, but it might just be staying quiet and listening in.¡±

    ¡°It sleeps. I am the holder of the contractor, so I know when it works.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you could teach me how to do that then, or how to remove it entirely?¡±

    ¡°No, I will not Malvia,¡± Versalicci said reproachfully. ¡°It is a teacher and a tool, and its purpose isn¡¯t quite fulfilled yet.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a pain that you inflicted on me because you wanted more control, and it keeps trying to convince me to turn to cannibalism.¡±

    Versalicci put on an expression of feigned pain. ¡°Inflicted? Dear sister, did you not agree to take it as a teacher and guide when I suggested it to you? Did you not ask me to find some way for you to control your powers before they caused harm to someone?¡±

    ¡°I was fifteen, had very little idea what I was doing, and was following the guidance of someone I thought knew better. To my surprise, you took advantage of that to plant a demon inside me, you son of a bitch.¡±

    ¡°Language,¡± Versalicci said lightly. ¡°Enough on the imp. I¡¯m not surprised to see you here, on two separate matters, I suppose.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure you have some inkling of the mess involving Angel¡¯s Sorrow,¡± I started.

    ¡°Oh, I¡¯ve been following it closely. Such a rare poison to suddenly be used would attract attention.¡±

    ¡°That and the fact you¡¯ve been implicated in its use, I¡¯m sure.¡±

    Versalicci nodded. ¡°The package with Golvar. You found out what was inside then?¡±

    ¡°Oh yes,¡± I said. ¡°And after a few minutes to think, realized what an incredibly stupid idea it would be for you to be responsible or even involved with this. Of course, not everyone will think that, especially those who don¡¯t know you. It¡¯s a little amusing, actually.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡± He raised an eyebrow. ¡°How would you think so?¡±

    ¡°You spent so much of your life exploiting the prejudices of wealthy humans to sneak in and nearly take their power away without them realizing it. Now, you might take a hit because those same prejudices will convince enough of them you¡¯re vindictive enough but not intelligent enough to go through with a plot like this. I guess they are half-right, which is better than being entirely wrong.¡±

    ¡°True enough,¡± Versalicci said, returning from behind the bar. ¡°Any sugar in your tea?¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯m good,¡± I said. ¡°Obviously you clearing your name is a bit of an issue. The only reason you aren¡¯t more notorious than you are is people were too embarrassed to admit what had happened and covered it up afterwards rather than admit you were running half the city from your little lair under it.¡±

    Versalicci laughed as he put my cup down, a short, unrefined bark of raucous amusement that startled me.

    ¡°Oh, Malvia, close but not close enough,¡± he said, taking a sip of his own concoction. ¡°I¡¯m sure they would love to cover that up, but while some people are embarrassed and powerful enough indeed, do you think they¡¯d be powerful enough to ignore the queen herself if she took an interest?¡±

    I grabbed the teacup, giving the brew an idle sniff as I thought on that. ¡°Are you accusing the queen of collaborating with you?¡±

    He laughed again. ¡°If the queen is aware of who I am, I imagine she¡¯d want to strangle me herself. No, I have very little insight into why Her Majesty and her government have decided ripping me out root and stem is something they shouldn¡¯t pursue.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps she¡¯s discovered tolerance in her old age,¡± I said.

    ¡°Perhaps,¡± he said. ¡°She is not the only one who has changed recently. I must commend you on the new mask, even if it¡¯s a little fragile. And leading you in directions you shouldn¡¯t. Dealing with nobles Malvia? A grave error. Even worse, you¡¯ve started associating with Voltar, which is sure to make a sticky end for you. Much more painful than any I could plan, I¡¯m sure.¡±

    ¡°First, I trust Voltar about as far as I can throw him, which means I trust him more than you. Second, I already faced a sticky end without him. Third, did you put fucking holy water in this tea?¡±

    I¡¯d not taken a sip and had instead put the tip of my finger in for only a moment before pulling it out. The tip of my finger hissed, blue skin eaten away, blood pouring out. I wrapped a napkin around it while glaring at a laughing Versalicci.

    ¡°You always used to get the worst allergies this time of year when you were still with us. I thought it might keep you from sniffing it out. It was worth the attempt at least. If you were foolish enough to fall for that, even the bonds of family have its limits.¡±

    He reached for the teacup cautiously, tossing it into the abyss next to us.

    ¡°I remember when we did this trick on Malacti, and after I let him live, I dumped it on the fire? You started listing vaporization rates at me like a lecture right before the vapor started burning all our skins.¡±

    He chuckled at the memory. I declined to join his mirth..

    ¡°Speaking of jokes, I will note that you should please stop implying you were Laurenta. I¡¯m quite serious about Donna. She got very upset about the entire thing. You could not believe the assurances I had to give she was still the only love in my life.¡±

    ¡°You have the godsdamned corpse you could dig up,¡± I said. ¡°And let¡¯s not move past the fact you just tried to poison me with holy water!¡±

    ¡°Oh please,¡± he said, rolling his eyes. ¡°If you¡¯d drunk it, the most that would happen is some mild scalding of your throat-¡°

    ¡°Siblings don¡¯t try to fucking murder each other during tea!¡± I snapped at him.

    He stared at me blankly. ¡°You¡¯re trying too hard.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    He rolled his eyes. ¡°The cursing, the constant antagonism, the abrasiveness. I know you¡¯ve done more politeness with this mask. This, this is just trying to force one to escape.¡±

    ¡°This is not a game of masks,¡± I told him, one hand with its claws scratching the table while the other crept towards a table knife.

    He seemed unconcerned. ¡°All conversations are a game of masks, Malvia, and I know yours better than most. I don¡¯t particularly care which one you put on, but I won¡¯t tolerate a sloppy one. Enough pleasantries though, to business.¡±

    ¡°If you want to discuss business, fine. Sure, it¡¯s idiotic of you to try poisoning noble heirs and then have me cure them. Especially since the price I was demanding was nowhere near as cutthroat as it could have been. That doesn¡¯t change the fact that Golvar was transporting Angel¡¯s Sorrow for you. Why?¡±

    Versalicci poured himself another drink, refused to fetch me a fresh cup, and drank most of his before speaking again. I forced myself still, determined not to let any sign of irritation appear.

    ¡°A trade,¡± he said. ¡°Because while you might think this is a matter of some import for me, sister, it is far from it. Let the nobles dig down into the depths after me. They¡¯ll never find me. You think this is my residence?¡±

    He gestured towards everything in the salon, the piano, the well-stocked bar, everything.

    ¡°It is just a temporary residence I can vanish out of like that,¡± he snapped his fingers. ¡°So sister, if you want some information, I need something in return.¡±

    ¡°I knew that before even coming here,¡± I said. ¡°Name your price. I can¡¯t guarantee I¡¯ll match it, but we¡¯ll see.¡±

    Versalicci sipped his drink while I considered if getting up to make my tea would be even worth the time.

    Eventually, he finished after an agonizing set of seconds.

    ¡°I need you to contact Father for me. Another relative I must have a long overdue chat with, and you¡¯re the best-qualified person to arrange that.¡±

    He could not be serious.

    ¡°No. Get someone else,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m not playing messenger for you, and I¡¯m not doing it so you can talk to him. The Watch can¡¯t have murdered every single Diabolist you had, and you can¡¯t have been lacking in recruits.¡±

    Versalicci sighed. ¡°I didn¡¯t mention this at the time because I didn¡¯t want you to be afraid, but the reason we had you act as the messenger between Father and me was because before then, every Diabolist who tried contacting him had their heads pop like cherries. Daver theorized the familial connection would prevent that.¡±

    I didn¡¯t reply. The china of the tea cup¡¯s handle buckled.

    Versalicci waited for a second, then continued. ¡°Well, the first one I had tried after your disappearance had a similar result, and our other half-siblings are dead. I decided to leave you alone, despite what you¡¯d done, and even if our half-siblings¡¯ deaths are your-¡±

    ¡°Fuck off, Giovanni,¡± I snarled. ¡°You had me do that? Based on the words of Daver, a fucking drunkard who¡¯d rotted his own leg off by accident? And you want to talk down to me about our half-sibling¡¯s deaths?¡±

    ¡°Language. You volunteered, and please don¡¯t speak ill of Daver. That man has done so much for you, and I¡¯ll not have ingratitude spoken of him from you.¡±

    I resisted the urge to slam the cup on the table. Don¡¯t lose your temper. He wants you angry, not thinking. He redirects, even if your anger starts with him by the time it ends, it¡¯ll be with him.

    ¡°Is it ingratitude to speak such of a person whose caution towards the magic that killed him could be described as reckless at best,¡± I said. ¡°And drop the big brother act, please.¡±

    ¡°That would only happen if it was an act,¡± Versalicci said. ¡°I knew you¡¯d be able to do it.¡±

    ¡°Again, I don¡¯t believe you,¡± I muttered, but it was barely a protest.

    As much as his justifications were false, he had a point.

    I wasn¡¯t making it out of here with any information without paying. In all honesty, not getting a strip torn out of my hide just for what I¡¯d done was more than I expected, so this wasn¡¯t too onerous a price. If I ignored that I¡¯d be summoning a Duke of the Hells to communicate with one of his mortal spawn.

    ¡°Fine. Give me a room and tools, and I¡¯ll bring him out for you. But this is the one time.¡±

    Versalicci smiled. ¡°The one time now. I imagine we¡¯ll have future trades to make, if you insist on our relationship being like that.¡±

    ¡°Just get me an empty space.¡±

 Chapter 37 - Knock Knock Knockin on Hells Door

    My chisel cut into stone, slicing through the quartz with difficulty as I tapped it slightly with the hammer. Bits of the crystal flaked as the diamond head of the chisel carved out a curving path, forming the basis for the circle.

    The stone room I was in had an entire sheet of crystal covering the floor and little else, only a single metal door that led to the Black Flame hideout. I¡¯d brought several lanterns inside, hanging them around the room to give enough light.

    I wiped some sweat off my brow, both from how hard it was to carve and the tension of knowing even a small mistake could lead to my death. Quartz was one of the few materials that could channel the energies we needed without breaking, but also flaked when you applied force with the right tools. Such as the diamond-tipped chisel in my hand.

    I wished I could use wood, paper, or even candle wax, but knowing the amount of power that would come through the other side, they¡¯d burst alight or explode the moment I activated the circle.

    The Imp was still sleeping, which, as much as I hated to admit it, was an issue. I¡¯d need him to check over my work and make sure I¡¯d drawn this all correctly. Also, working with only one eye was very different from two.

    Or we could just risk all dying a horrible and perverse death. Knowing the demon who¡¯d been responsible for my birth, that was probably the case.

    My mother had been very insistent on him being the perfect gentleman during their time together, although I had my doubts about how truthful that all was. She¡¯s hidden things from me like all parents do with their children.

    Unfortunately, thanks to a very large amount of alcohol one evening, I¡¯d gotten an entire earful of things involving the two of them I wanted to hear even less than the series of torturous deaths he¡¯d inflicted on people while on the mortal plane.

    I shuddered at the memory, trying to banish those thoughts from my mind. All it did was draw the attention of the only other person in the room.

    Versalicci¡¯s lecture for Melissa had not taken long since she¡¯d shown up right after. Versalicci had assigned her to watch over me as I worked and, mostly, had not distracted me too much from chiseling the quartz.

    At least she seemed determined to get back in my good graces. Versalicci probably hadn¡¯t told her I was not a member of the Black Flame any more.

    It took about ten minutes into carving the diagram for the first question to come.

    ¡°So¡­you¡¯re trying to summon the boss¡¯ father?¡±

    ¡°No,¡¯ I said, etching out a groove into the stonework. ¡°Even if I had enough power to, summoning a duke of the hells would be a death sentence for all of us the moment the seals broke. To bring him through, we¡¯d either need an entire team of Diabolists working in unison, all of them with ten times my experience. That or a lot of sacrifices to bridge that gap, and even if I was alright with that, we¡¯d not have enough.¡±

    Melissa rolled her eyes. ¡°Well, you aren¡¯t in charge, and it¡¯s not like this city is lacking in people who deserve to die, so how many would we need?¡±

    ¡°Two-thirds of the city¡¯s population, give or take a few thousand.¡±

    Almost a minute of chiseling passed before Melissa regained her voice. I finished the inner circle and started on the lines linking the two.

    ¡°You¡¯re---you¡¯re joking,¡± she said weakly. ¡°That¡¯s¡­must be millions of people.¡±

    ¡°5.815 million,¡± I said. ¡°You might bridge that a little with some people being significant enough to count for ten or a hundred souls, maybe even a few thousand with some of them, but it doesn¡¯t adjust the math too much. I suppose if you could capture Her Majesty and bring her here, that might be a significant enough sacrifice, but I wouldn¡¯t recommend that. Too likely to bring through Her Most Profane Majesty instead.¡±

    ¡°How?¡± she muttered, seeming lost.

    ¡°Close, personal connection. Our current queen killed Her Most Profane Majesty, and that leaves marks in the world. Marks that our former queen could use to pull herself out of hell instead of the intended devil.¡±

    ¡°No, I meant, how could it take this many souls? Surely it can¡¯t be this hard to summon the Duke if he¡¯s your and the boss¡¯ father.¡±

    ¡°They summoned parts of him. Little chunks keeping his full consciousness, but nowhere near his power. If he had been here in his full form when he¡¯d conceived the both of us, we wouldn¡¯t be Infernals. And before you ask, the reason we aren¡¯t summoning a piece is any manageable piece would be too powerful for the government not to notice and also not strong enough to handle the problems that would cause. We are just going to knock on his door instead and see if he¡¯s willing to talk to us through a window.¡±

    And hope that talking was all he wanted to do.

    ¡°To think the boss¡¯ father is that powerful,¡± Melissa mused to herself.

    ¡°He¡¯s not that powerful,¡± I said. ¡°Relative to the demons that make their way here? Yes, if only because one of the thirteen kings would probably cause reality to break apart on a local level if they came through. And they¡¯re just the rulers of our hell.¡±

    Hell was, as far as anyone could tell, infinite, and the only thing known for certain was that parts of it were linked to parts of the material plane. The thirteen kings were rulers of the part linked to this geographic region.

    Mind you, thinking of entities more powerful than them existing did not do anyone any good. If such entities broke through, everyone was already dead.

    "About earlier, I am..."

    "Don''t bother," I said. "The only reason you have for regretting beating me up is my connection to Versalicci. Would he still have scolded you for disobeying his instructions? Yes, but he made sure that the person this lesson was centered on was one where you''d immediately realize how screwed you would be if he wasn''t offering you his idea of mercy. Think on that."

    The silence stretched on as I finished the circles and their connecting lines, now working on the runes drawn in between. I stopped occasionally, consulting the book I¡¯d gotten from Versalicci. Five years on, my memory of the ritual circle was still quite good but no need to take any risks.

    Versalicci was fetching the ingredients for the ritual itself, leaving me to finish this. I worked on the symbols, cutting intricate patterns into the stone.

    By the time I finished, it must have been a couple of hours later as I carved the last symbol into place. I didn¡¯t know how much time had passed as I examined each symbol and compared them to the books. I¡¯d added more, extending the number of circles to add them in. Further tightening of the hole I was about to drill through reality.

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    Versalicci still wasn¡¯t here.

    I turned my attention to Melissa. ¡°You don¡¯t have the talent, do you?¡±

    That flustered her, although she¡¯d been fidgeting since our earlier conversation ended.

    ¡°Why would you think that?¡±

    I sat down across the Quartz from her. ¡°Versalicci loves his tests, loves his little lies and intrigues. You didn¡¯t know I was his sister. I doubt you knew I was a diabolist. Otherwise, you wouldn¡¯t have bothered beating me up. But most importantly, because I can¡¯t think of another reason to have you in here except to watch this in practice.¡±

    ¡°Or he sent me in here to monitor you,¡± she replied.

    ¡°There will be watchers keeping an eye through the walls like during our ¡®private¡¯ conversation. If you have it or not, there is one universal piece of advice all Diabolists would be served by learning. Don¡¯t.¡±

    As if on cue, the door opened, Versalicci entering with reagents piled high.

    Definitely on cue. I was being watched.

    ¡°Ah, sister, busy terrorizing one of my employees? Melissa, you can go back to your regular duties.¡±

    The other infernal left, shutting the door behind her while Versalicci put the reagents on the floor.

    ¡°I¡¯ll need the Imp awake to check on this. Which means another cow,¡± I said.

    ¡°Hungry little demon, isn¡¯t he?¡± Versalicci said, and at the same time, a familiar voice spoke in my mind.

    First her and now you with putting me to sleep! The Imp howled inside my head. Demons do not sleep, cast-off of my lord! Do you know how strange it feels?

    ¡°I¡¯ve had a few others complain to me about it. Honestly, I believe more sleep will do you all some good. Sister?¡±

    ¡°Check the circle, Imp. Make sure everything is in place while I check the reagents. I¡¯ll eat another cow.¡±

    The various reagents were mostly related to the diabolic, that and a few vials of blood as a sacrifice. Less messy and difficult than trying to cut a goat¡¯s throat in the middle of this. Too much chance it would damage the circle.

    ¡°How fresh is this?¡± I asked, eyeing a curved claw in the shape of a sickle.

    ¡°How fresh do you think, sister? Demons aren¡¯t common. Their reagents are rare, trade in them is illegal, and I don¡¯t have anyone I trust to summon demons, even if they are just Scraelings.¡±

    The truth, my instinct told me, till I squeezed on the claw. Liar. Scraeling claws degraded the moment you cut them off. It would have crumbled in my fingers if it was older than three years.

    Just another reminder to never trust my instincts around him.

    ¡°The array is bigger than it was in the past,¡± Versalicci noted, looking at the symbols.

    She¡¯s added more in the way of bindings and safeguards, the Imp said. Progeny or no, my master will not take kindly to the amount of bindings related to constraining lust you have added. But the circle itself has no mistakes.

    ¡°Too bad. My circle, my bindings. Unless you object to him being more focused than he would normally be?¡±

    Versalicci raised an eyebrow. ¡°It¡¯s never been a problem before. I don¡¯t see the point is all.¡±

    His cognition will function regardless of your shackling of him!

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know how dangerous this was before,¡± I said back. ¡°I want as little risk as possible that parts of him leak through the barrier, especially when it¡¯s you and me alone in here.¡±

    ¡°An unfounded concern, but I¡¯ll not question this. Is it ready, then?¡±

    I finished looking through the materials he¡¯d brought. Everything seemed in place. I would not ask for the source of the blood and some of the other reagents. Don¡¯t ask questions you don¡¯t want the answers to.

    ¡°It is. I¡¯m assuming you¡¯ve warded this place to contain Diabolic traces?¡±

    It wouldn¡¯t do to light a beacon for the Imperial government if only because they¡¯d be here before I could escape. Except for my actions at Lady Karsin¡¯s estate, nothing I¡¯d done up till now would be large enough for them to detect. This, though, opening a window to a Duke of the Hells, no matter how small, would have an immediate response.

    I put the various pieces in their places, the vials of blood in one hand.

    ¡°Let me peer in here, make sure the room is safe to do this in,¡± I said.

    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you have done that first? And I can already tell you, nothing in here that will interfere with a little communication ritual.

    I ignored him, instead taking a breath and closing my one eye.

    I hadn¡¯t wanted to do this, but trying to do this blind would be insanity. I opened my eye, peering into the arcane.

    Ten corpses lay across the quartz, none of them Infernals, all twitching and jerking. They¡¯d all been tortured, with shallow knife wounds in non-vital areas, and blood leaking all across the ritual circle.

    Huh, this wasn¡¯t as bad as I thought.

    Traces of blood crawled all over the room, clinging to walls and floor in humanoid shapes. Echoes of the past, murder after torture. At the far end of the room one was more defined, a roiling shape made of blood and little scraps of flesh, lying down, waiting.

    A spirit waiting to be born, and not a pleasant one.

    I put more diabolism into the quartz, enough in case the nascent spirit interfered. I didn¡¯t have a quarrel with it. Hells, if Versalicci was unaware of the forming creature made from the people he¡¯d killed in here, I wouldn¡¯t provide him any hints.

    A quick scan of the room showed no other signs of spirits. A stone spirit would come through during the ritual, but the ritual would keep them away.

    Spirits would instinctively know what it was. And if a spirit came in here that wouldn¡¯t shy away from a Duke of the Hells, I couldn¡¯t stop it regardless.

    Diabolism came at my call, aided by the Imp. Bits of shadow came at my call, forming into a chisel that I set on the quartz¡¯s mirror self.

    I tapped once, twice, thrice, each time sending flakes flying and a crack developing in the structure. Not enough to break, but enough to let things flit past.

    The various reagents burst alight, flames eating at them as something strained against the crack. The quartz shuddered.

    ¡°Your blood calls on you, Duke of the Hells,¡± I said, crushing the vials in my hand. Shards of glass cut into my finger but then closed themselves right after.

    The blood flew for the center of the quartz, going through the hairline fracture and beyond. It burrowed in, going past the spirits of the dead still lingering in this room.

    A second later, those vanished. The nascent spirit formed out of blood stilled. I closed the eye, then reopened it, closing my view of the arcane.

    The quartz breathed, shifting up and down like someone¡¯s lung, a crack forming in the center here in the material, traveling across the middle.

    Only to stop at the innermost part of the diagram in any direction.

    Versalicci whistled as he walked the outer breadth of the array, looking down at the split. It widened, only to stop as I put my hand on the outermost circle. The entire array lit up, red traveling down the lines and into the crack.

    It shuddered again, but the split stopped trying to move. Instead, something slipped out.

    Reeking of sulfur, it pushed out past the crack, forming into a cloud of red and yellow particles between me and Versalicci, six dark crimson cores forming in the middle of it.

    Mast- The Imp tried to say only for it to choke on its words.

    I kept my hands on the circle, even as the surrounding air heated up. The cloud turned four of the cores towards Versalicci, and two towards me. Versalicci said something, but I could not hear, the inside of my ears like furnaces. Father kept the conversation private. Instead, I kept my hands on the circle, even as the quartz heated.

    By now, the center boiled, a sea of liquid quartz. I didn¡¯t see what lay beyond, closing my eyes. My hands burned as the quartz beneath them heated. My lungs burned, the air itself scorching them. Something wet trickled from my ears and eye, but I kept my hands on the circle.

    The cloud plunged into the boiling center, disappearing as the quartz stopped bubbling. I didn¡¯t let go until Versalicci came over, nudging me.

    ¡°He¡¯s gone.¡±

    I lifted blistered hands from the quartz, and tried to get up and say something. Instead, I fell.

    Versalicci dragged me off the quartz before it could burn me, then sat down beside me.

    ¡°This was supposed to be a lesson. He¡¯s angrier with you than I am, so he meted out punishment. Here, drink.¡±

    Not having any ability to refuse Versalicci, I took a few swallows of the bottle he passed and immediately felt better. I sat up, looking at the still-melted center of the quartz square.

    ¡°I believe that settles our business here,¡± I said, mouth still dry. ¡°I think it¡¯s time for you to fulfill your end of the bargain?¡±

    I kept a wary eye on Versalicci, hand still grasping diabolic tethers to the Quartz. If he¡¯d only kept me alive to contact our father, now would be the perfect time to kill me. Of course, the moment he gave a hint that way, I¡¯d finish breaking a hole into the wall between planes. I¡¯d wager whatever demonic entities crawled through would eat him before the Imperial Government came here to seal it back up.

    ¡°That it is,¡± Versalicci agreed, leaning against the door. ¡°Let¡¯s have it here, if you¡¯re going to hold that gate hostage.¡±

 Chapter 38 - A Returned Coat

    I shrugged at Versalicci¡¯s comments. ¡°Truth be told, even if it wasn¡¯t suicide for myself trying to hammer through that¡­well, the Duke certainly made it easier by melting the middle. But it¡¯s only a useful bluff while we¡¯re in this room.¡±

    ¡°So, an empty bluff, then?¡±

    I put a hand on the quartz. Heat still coursed through it but it had cooled enough I could put fingers on it.

    ¡°Not entirely empty. Even if your reasons for keeping me alive and well all this time have dissipated, I am your best bet for not ending up as the guilty party at the end of this. Voltar doesn¡¯t think you are, but he¡¯s not long from being sidelined, I bet, and has much less reason to see this entire mess resolved.¡±

    ¡°Ah, the enmity of nobles,¡± Versalicci rolled his eyes. ¡°Like I have not already earned that a hundred times over.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t play the fool,¡± I said. ¡°Whoever¡¯s framed you will not have this as their only hand, and they want you, and me, as their patsy.¡±

    ¡°Which doesn¡¯t change my ability to evade unwanted attention, but don¡¯t worry. You¡¯ll have the information you want and be out of here without a scratch on you.¡±

    I looked down at my blistered fingers still lying on the circle, and after a half-second lifted them. In the end he was right. It was an empty bluff the moment I needed to leave.

    ¡°Why was Golvar carrying around a box full of Angel¡¯s Sorrow?¡±

    ¡°Why that specifically? I have little idea myself, although it¡¯s clear someone I thought was a trusted business associate has turned traitor. That¡¯s another issue to be dealt with.¡±

    ¡°Make sure it¡¯s actually that ¡®business¡¯ associate,¡± I warned. ¡°While I wouldn¡¯t stake my life on it, at least one person I¡¯ve met involved with this has shown an ability to shift their form quickly and rapidly.¡±

    Versalicci¡¯s pause before replying was barely a second, but still long enough to be noticed.

    ¡°Interesting. Shape-changers?¡±

    ¡°That or someone has made some remarkable breakthroughs in Biosculpting with no one else getting a whiff.¡±

    ¡°Such is the fate of our species, that even creatures from myth come to assail innocents just for being of diabolic descent.¡±

    I rolled my eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t know what irks me more, the idea you were ever innocent or that you consider this an assault on all Infernals. But regardless, where did Golvar go to pick up the box?¡±

    ¡°It was a dead drop set up for the occasion. I¡¯m hardly going to send one of my trusted and known lieutenants to my source¡¯s home or property.¡±

    ¡°Then give me their name and address then. It¡¯s a place to start, at the minimum.¡±

    Versalicci sighed. ¡°Bismuth, near the docks. There¡¯s an alchemical supply store called Maldron¡¯s Herbs. I¡¯d set up an introduction, but if the owners are behind this, no need to tip them off. I am not sharing what Golvar was supposed to haul back. And they are mine if they end up behind this.¡±

    ¡°Get in line,¡± I replied. ¡°Another question, since the answer to my previous one is so little in its worth?¡±

    He laughed.

    ¡°Then, because solving this helps both of us? The Pure-bloods, have they been a problem before now?¡±

    He shook his head. ¡°Oh, not really. Not that much more than any other human-only gang does. You¡¯d think as cosmopolitan as this city has become, they¡¯d broaden their recruitment some, wouldn¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°.....yes,¡± I said. I was pretty sure he was joking. He wasn¡¯t oblivious.

    ¡°In terms of recent activities, they¡¯ve been making moves for their own chunk of the underground, but bluntly. Stepping on toes far bigger than their feet. I thought they¡¯d be a self-solving problem, but after their recent offense, I believe it¡¯s time for us Infernals to show the rest of those living down here how it¡¯s done.¡±

    Again with that speaking for all of us, Versalicci. ¡°That¡¯s interesting. They¡¯ve been trying to lean on the Delver¡¯s guilds as well. And where are they located, if you know?¡±

    Voltar probably knew where their headquarters was, but I had a few people I trusted more on where scum would be living than him. Versalicci was at the top of that list, even if he was the least likely to actually say.

    ¡°No, sister,¡± he said. ¡°Oh, I know, but they are mine. You do not hurt the Black Flame without suffering the consequences. That¡¯s two questions, which I think is more than we agreed on, but I do have a favor I want in return.¡±

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    I looked at the melted quartz in the center of the room. ¡°And what would that favor be?¡±

    ¡°Tell Voltar that while a truce will exist for now, the moment he uses this as an occasion to investigate my dealings, he will bleed. Now come, let¡¯s see you out, sister.¡±

    ***

    I jolted awake, hand reaching for a knife, before everything came into focus.

    I was in an Infernal Quarter alley, now being stared at by half a dozen other Infernals, three of whom were busy disposing of¡­something trying to move in a sack.

    ¡°Apologies,¡± I said. ¡°Been a rough day.¡±

    Not the best of words, but the struggling sack took their attention more as I hurried out of the alley. Had two of them looked¡­not scared but apprehensive? I didn¡¯t think only having a single eye would so unnerve people. Or at least people willing to be doing whatever they planned on doing to the occupant of that sack.

    I had more important things to worry about, though.

    Damnations, how had they put me to sleep? The last thing I could remember was that message Versalicci wanted sent to Voltar, and from there¡­nothing.

    I forced myself to not start searching every nook and cranny of the alley for signs of the Black Flame. Panicking wouldn¡¯t help, but my heart raced regardless. How had he put me to sleep so easily?

    I moved out of the alley, only to realize something had been added to my ensemble.

    I didn¡¯t know what was worse, that Versalicci had stuck a coat on me while I was asleep or that it looked exactly like my old ones when I¡¯d been part of the gang.

    Wait. I checked the interior pockets and cursed when I found a pair of surgical knives with a pair of familiar initials carved in. This was one of my old coats.

    He¡¯s going to burn if he thinks he can get me back into the Black Flame, I thought to myself, hurrying out of the alley.

    At least it might explain why those two had seemed frightened. With my old body back, the symbol visible on my hand, and if those two had been around five years ago.

    Well, they¡¯d have a good reason for looking the other way.

    I put the offending hand inside my coat pockets and wished I could do more. Having the human side of my heritage be from so far away did not help with being less recognizable.

    Nothing I can do about that right now. Which left me either heading to Voltar¡¯s or handling something else while I was here. I was inclined towards the latter since I didn¡¯t want to return with only the one lead. Not when I could get a second one at a relatively low cost.

    It was time to visit Varrow.

    ***

    I waited in the darkness.

    Varrow had certainly gone up in the world. Or, more accurately, everyone else here had gone down, since if the District was more crowded, he would never have been able to live in a place this nice.

    Back when I¡¯d run with his gang of pickpockets, con-people, and urchins, we¡¯d lived on the streets or in whatever warehouse we could break into. Not a nice, two-room apartment that had functioning water. It was probably nicer than my apartment was-had been. My apartment had been. It even had a window big enough for a person to fit through!

    I tried to put that out of my mind. I¡¯d already been here once on a house call, so I hadn¡¯t needed to search out where Varrow lived. The lock on his door had been a simple thing to pick, which meant this wouldn¡¯t be his true refuge, but he must visit it.

    Now I just needed to wait in the darkness for him to come back.

    I couldn¡¯t see in it, but having the single lamp in this room on when Varrow got home would give away someone being here. Meanwhile, I sat in the darkness and changed masks.

    Being more like Malvia Harrow would be called for here if only to not give him a heart attack from having friendly Katheryn Falara in Harrow¡¯s body. It would be tense at first, but not too bad. Our relationship had always been decent when I¡¯d been with the Black Flame.

    Although it would still be best to wait till he¡¯d closed the door to reveal me.

    The darkness helped some with getting into the right mindset. Malvia considered the darkness a friend. Not when trying to read or write, but other times it helped to forget what she, no I¡¯d done. An easier cloak than wilful blindness.

    Honestly, it was as dark as the underground in here. It¡¯d been later in the day than I thought when I¡¯d awoken, and the sun had disappeared fast.

    The underground. The ultimate place to hide, given how extensive the tunnel and cavern networks were down there. For the Pure-Bloods to expand down there, that was strange, to put it mildly.

    I toyed with the idea of that being where the poison was being made. Points in its favor, isolation and the underground would not be good for celestials, separated from the sight of the sun. The negatives, with the Delvers'' guilds active, the chance of a random group finding it and being capable of escaping? Very high unless you had a very nasty guard dog. Or a monster.

    Monster. I leaped to my feet, realization striking me. Those rocks I¡¯d collected from the warehouse, I¡¯d have to examine them. Why keep stone fragments that had no magic to them?

    If they were the fragmented remnants of someone who¡¯d been petrified you wanted to be brought back, they were essential. What was roaming the underground, with the Delvers'' guilds thus far unable to beat it? A basilisk. The Pure Bloods had tried to lean on them, but what if they¡¯d also been trying to find out how the guilds knew of the basilisk?

    Other parts didn¡¯t fit yet without confirmation, but made a modicum of sense. Shapechangers could remove their eyes, meaning such a beast would be less of a danger to them. The basilisk was a silent killer, and gained sustenance off of leeching the life force of petrified victims, meaning less biological mess and less noise than other creatures.

    A basilisk might also be the only safeguard against a celestial if it broke free as well.

    I needed to examine the fragments first though, so I sat back down, forcing myself to be patient.

    Sounds came from outside. Singing of the non-drunken variety which was a good sign. No need to sober him up.

    The door opened, and someone stepped inside, mumbling to themselves. Definitely Varrow.

    ¡°-getting too old for this, you daft fool. Watch going easier these days isn¡¯t a reason to risk their wrath. Need to find a new line of work-¡±

    The lamp lit up, casting light over the entire room. Including me sitting in an armchair.

    ¡°Varrow,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s been a few years since we last talked.¡±

    I¡¯d thought his skin had gone pale when Voltar had shown up at my apartment. Now it resembled milk. His jaw opened and closed a few times, nothing coming out and in but air as anything he tried to say died in his throat.

    ¡°Malvia,¡± he finally gasped out, backing towards the door. ¡°You¡¯re alive? When? How?¡±

    ¡°Not relevant. I¡¯ll answer eventually, but first, Varrow, we have business to discuss.¡±

    He considered my words, gave me half a nod, and then sprinted for his apartment window.

 Chapter 39 - Too Many Leads

    I got out of the chair, too late to chase after Varrow.

    ¡°I¡¯m not working for Versalicci!¡± I protested as he neared the window. ¡°I¡¯m here on my own business.¡±

    To my relief, he did not leap through the window. To my dismay, he pulled a saber from a wooden umbrella stand. A pockmarked and rusted thing, but a blade that I couldn¡¯t ignore.

    I forced myself not to draw any weapons of my own. I wouldn¡¯t provoke him if I could avoid him. Not that every instinct was screaming at me to do so.

    ¡°Not being here on Versalicci¡¯s order doesn¡¯t make you less dangerous,¡± Varrow said, eyes steadily fixed on mine despite the racking cough accompanying his words. ¡°What do you want?¡±

    ¡°Information on a gang,¡± I said. ¡°Also, to see how you¡¯ve been progressing since I gave you that shot.¡±

    His eyes narrowed. He took a couple of steps closer, the point of the saber not wavering. It pointed towards the middle of my head.

    ¡°You¡¯re claiming to be Ms. Falara,¡± he said.

    ¡°Claiming, nothing,¡± I said. ¡°When you visited my apartment a few days ago, I gave you your regular medicine and an injection as well. Right after, you bragged about training me, Golvar, and a few others. Oh, and after you almost got into a fistfight with Kalasyp and then almost threw yourself out a window to escape Voltar.¡±

    Varrow scowled. ¡°I did not get into a fistfight with the rich blighter or run out that window. It was a full story up. But it¡¯s detailed enough. Makes more sense than Skall being her.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll take that as a compliment,¡± I said graciously.

    He snorted in response, which turned into a series of convulsive coughs.

    ¡°Take it as an insult. You¡¯re the only one cold enough to pull off a disguise. Skall was a fucking lunatic who I had you lot chase off three times for a reason. Girl couldn¡¯t see past her next meal and it¡¯s why she got suckered into casting the devil¡¯s magic so easy. You don¡¯t have that excuse.¡±

    ¡°Sanctimony sits poorly on you, considering who introduced me to Versalicci, to begin with,¡± I said, tone hardening. ¡°You want to judge me, Varrow? How many people, how many children have you led into his clutches? How many more like me did he get his claws into so you could keep operating in his territory, and enjoy his protection?¡±

    ¡°I introduce, I didn¡¯t force any of you into joining him,¡± Varrow countered. ¡°I didn¡¯t tell you to sit by his side telling him which poisons were perfect for drawing out pain, or to carve into people, or anything else you did. You trying to absolve yourself of your past actions, Harrow? Pretend it was all because of someone else?¡±

    A reply about being fourteen when this had all started sat on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed it. Varrow was only a few paces away, face flushed while his saber remained steady.

    ¡°I came here because of new business,¡± I said. ¡°Not the past.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not interested in the past, and that includes you in it,¡± Varrow replied. ¡°And I don¡¯t care who else you drag in as part of it.¡±

    ¡°Voltar is part of it,¡± I said. ¡°And backing me, so it depends on how much you want to needle him.¡±

    Varrow turned, and as my hands closed around a knife¡¯s pommel, he threw his saber.

    The weapon hit the floor, a chip of wood flying as the blade slammed into it. Cursing at me, Versalicci, Voltar, and the world in general, Varrow slumped down into the armchair.

    I left him alone to brood for a bit. Either he¡¯d decide to help or he wouldn¡¯t, and prodding him wouldn¡¯t turn out well. I went to the kitchen, not to fix anything but just to give him space.

    The minutes passed by. Eventually, he called me back in with a voice more belonging to the dead than Varrow.

    I walked back in, standing a good five feet across from him. Close enough to hear a whisper, far enough away to give him a shred of security. Only a shred.

    ¡°First thing, what did you inject into me two days ago?¡±

    ¡°Extract of a salamander,¡± I answered. ¡°It should attack the disease in your lungs, although it¡¯s taking longer than I expected. It was a more permanent solution to your issues.¡±

    ¡°Ominous,¡± Varrow chuckled, causing a fresh round of coughing. ¡°Guessing that¡¯s gone up in smoke with your apartment?¡±

    ¡°For now. It doesn¡¯t need to be that way forever.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what you¡¯re going to pay me with? Dangle a wa-¡±

    ¡°No, that¡¯s free,¡± I clarified. ¡°Your payment is coming out of Voltar¡¯s pocket. I just meant that I don¡¯t know if I can acquire more Salamander extract. I do owe you.¡±

    ¡°I ain¡¯t certain if that¡¯s supposed to be a comfort or a threat,¡± Varrow muttered. ¡°Alright, name what you want and I¡¯ll name a price that I suppose Voltar will pay.¡±

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    I hadn¡¯t even broached the thought with Voltar yet, but if he would force me into dealing with Versalicci, I¡¯d make his coffers a mite lighter.

    ¡°Pure Bloods. They¡¯re mixed up in a mess involving many people. You heard of them?¡±

    ¡°Racist gang from the docks?¡± Varrow got up from his chair, moving towards the kitchen. ¡°Everyone here¡¯s heard of them. Now at least, since they stabbed Golvar to death. Before? I¡¯d heard of them if only cause no one wants to be in a territory that wants you dead just for having horns. What do you need to know on them?¡±

    ¡°Locations. Important ones. Preferably their old hideout.¡±

    Varrow walked back in, plate and cup in hand. He offered nothing, and I didn¡¯t ask as he sat back down in the armchair.

    ¡°Old one? Think they¡¯ve shifted places, do you?¡±

    ¡°Underground is the most likely possibility. But they have to base their surface operations out of somewhere.¡±

    ¡°True. And I know the most likely place. But first, you gotta promise me one thing.¡±

    ¡°Depends on what it is,¡± I said, frowning. ¡°Nothing too onerous?¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯m just going to ask you not to use whatever in the hells Versalicci had you get rid of the One-horns with. I get good fish only a pier down from their hideout and I ain¡¯t giving it up till I¡¯m sure all the tainted fish are gone.¡±

    Oh. That.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t use that again,¡± I said. ¡°And even if I would, it¡¯s all gone, anyway. Versalicci ordered it all destroyed for being too hard to control. I warned him about that, but-¡±

    ¡°Anyone could have warned him about that,¡± Varrow interrupted. ¡°I could have from when I saw those fools in the army try to use it to cover an advance. There¡¯s a difference between advising and making, and it should be the latter when you¡¯re using air that chokes people to death.¡±

    I swallowed an argument. ¡°We¡¯re here to discuss current business, not past business. We can discuss that later after this mess is handled.¡±

    ¡°And what is this mess?¡±

    ¡°Do you want to know? All I need is a location, Varrow, and we can leave your involvement at only that.¡±

    ¡°And I don¡¯t imagine my involvement in this mess is going to end at this. I¡¯m an old man who wants to be left alone, Harrow.¡±

    My lips quirked, almost forming a smile. ¡°Alright.¡±

    So I told the story, leaving a few details out for my benefit. And for Tolman and Arsene, who didn¡¯t need any attention brought down on their heads. The sun set, and the moon was ascending the sky as I finished the tale.

    Varrow was quiet for a few seconds, then a few minutes. Finally, he spoke.

    ¡°Shape-changers? I¡¯m supposed to believe that?¡±

    I didn¡¯t know what was stranger, that he was questioning my account or that he was the first person questioning my account. I supposed Voltar has probably found other evidence to support it perhaps, and Versalicci, well, he may very well have asked the Duke about it.

    ¡°Does you believing in it change if you¡¯ll tell me?¡± I asked. ¡°You wanted to know. I gave you an answer. It¡¯s not my responsibility to convince you of its truth.¡±

    Varrow grunted. ¡°Two hundred pounds is the cost. And only once I¡¯ve seen the money.¡±

    ¡°Fair enough. I can find you again here?¡±

    ¡°When I decide to cut and run, it¡¯ll be after getting my coin, not before. Unless I start hearing rumors about me helping you, in which case I¡¯m running out of your rat trap.¡±

    ¡°Fair enough.¡±

    It was a hefty sum, but I imagine Voltar could be convinced to part with it.

    And if not, well, there could only be so many piers near the fish shop Varrow liked.

    ***

    ¡°You want me to pay your vagrant mentor two hundred pounds?¡±

    I was back in the same room I, Voltar, and Dawes had talked in previously, although it was only me and Voltar now. Outside, the moon had ascended past the window¡¯s view, and I stifled a yawn. It had been an hour of recapping everything that had occurred since I left, and only now had I reached the end.

    ¡°He¡¯s got a place where he lives, which makes him not a vagrant,¡± I said. ¡°And yes, I want you to pay him two hundred pounds. Consider it an investment.¡±

    ¡°I already have an information network that does not need adding a con-man and pickpocket. I have several I trust far more than him, both in terms of their ability and general trustworthiness.¡±

    I took a sip of tea, enjoying the sweet, musky taste as I drank. I needed to ask what blend this was at some point.

    ¡°But do they know where this hideout is?¡± I asked.

    ¡°They don¡¯t. I know where we can find it. Varrow is a creature of habit and doesn¡¯t even need to be tailed to find out where the fish shop he buys seafood is, as he only ever leaves half blocks of time free, meaning there¡¯s perhaps a mile and a half of piers that can be reached in time for a return trip. A bit broad of an area, but even if the Pure Bloods have learned subtlety, their movements will leave traces behind. Do you wish me to continue?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± I put the cup of tea down, sighing. ¡°You¡¯ve made your point. Still, it would save time, and I owe the old man. I¡¯m willing to pay you back if you do this for me.¡±

    ¡°Seems to me the simplest way to help him would be to keep treating him. Salamander extract should do the trick, so unless you decide not to keep him supplied, that shouldn¡¯t be an issue.¡±

    ¡°That depends on me being paid. Something we haven¡¯t discussed, again because you don¡¯t need to do it. You already have a set of swords over my head, remember?¡±

    ¡°Oh, you shouldn¡¯t worry about costs. We pay our contractors well, and their expenses. But that¡¯s more a discussion for when Dawes is back.¡±

    Oh, but I worried, not so much about costs and more about becoming one of their ¡®contractors¡¯. I wanted to be rid of all of this by the end, a fantasy I¡¯d continue to cling to till everything keeping it hanging had been cut.

    ¡°But enough on Varrow. There¡¯s been a variety of things to consider because of today. Your brother-¡±

    ¡°Not my brother. Factually incorrect,¡± I interrupted.

    Voltar rolled his eyes. ¡°Your half-brother-¡±

    ¡°Family is more than just blood,¡± I said, cutting him off to clearly mounting frustration. ¡°Just because we share blood doesn¡¯t make us siblings, and I¡¯d ask you not to do so in the future.¡±

    Voltar considered that for a second before starting again.

    ¡°Considering his mentorship and help, he¡¯s provided you, your surrogate father-¡±

    ¡°What do you get out of provoking me, Voltar?¡± I asked. ¡°You already have a sword over my head. You can drop anytime. Several, in fact, between Montague and the Imperial government. Are you trying to irritate me?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I am, for a few reasons. An easily provoked Diabolist is useless, and also because I¡¯ll need you composed for our next little journey.¡±

    He¡¯d already picked up a lead for us to follow? Also why would I need to be composed?

    ¡°I still need to regrow my eye. And examine those rocks. If they are from a petrified person, we should be able to match up at least some of the fragments to create, well¡­a piece of whoever was petrified. And there¡¯s other methodologies, but they¡¯d create more of a mess.¡±

    Reversing petrification on a portion of a body not put back together would probably result in a blood-splattered mess. For an instant, all the systems of life would return and try to function and then suffer the logical result of them being disconnected from the rest of the body.

    ¡°There will be time for you to do both of those things and discuss your discoveries, but after we need to pursue our next lead. Ms. Harrow, have you ever been to Lord Montague¡¯s estate?¡±

 Chapter 40 - An Arm of Stone

    ¡°Why?¡± was the first word out of my mouth, followed swiftly by a host of others. ¡°And don¡¯t say I cannot know. If you want me to set foot anywhere near that man, I¡¯m going to need more than your say-so, Voltar.¡±

    ¡°Which man would that be, the father or the son?¡± he asked with a smirk on his face.

    ¡°The father,¡± I deadpanned. ¡°If you put a sufficiently voluptuous and willing woman in front of him, he would not notice a dagger going through his throat.¡±

    The smirk deepened. ¡°I would underestimate Gregory Montague at your own peril.¡±

    ¡°After this I¡¯m going to go about assuming anyone who spends over two seconds talking with me is a demon, Imperial Intelligence, or an archmage,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯ll save me from being horribly surprised later. Can you at least tell me what his little secret is?¡±

    ¡°No, that would be rude, since it¡¯s not relevant. But on why we are going to the Montagues, there are a few unanswered questions about his lordship¡¯s involvement in this. Him being the culprit seems unlikely, but it would not hurt to make sure. And also to make sure your involvement in his son¡¯s cure hasn¡¯t made him disregard your instructions on administering it.¡±

    That seemed reasonable enough. Except for one little detail. ¡°And I¡¯m coming along because?¡±

    ¡°Because I want a second pair of eyes in there with me and Dawes will still be busy come tomorrow. Also, because I want you to look at the boy and make sure it¡¯s only Angel¡¯s Sorrow he has.¡±

    I frowned. I¡¯d done several tests on the blood samples Lord Montague had been cajoled into providing before our meeting, and each of them had turned up negative for any alchemical substance except for Angel¡¯s Sorrow.

    ¡°You suspect another poison is in play?¡± I asked.

    ¡°I suspect something else must be going on. This is a very expensive, very slow-acting poison that has very few advantages. There¡¯s a reason it¡¯s creators devised it when searching to find a way to test morality, not a tool of murder originally.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t need to give me a lecture on its origins,¡± I said. ¡°We¡¯d be talking a slow poison, to still be active. That might explain Karsin¡¯s sudden vomiting at the party.¡±

    ¡°Or perhaps another substance. A poison isn¡¯t the only possibility.¡±

    ¡°The question of why comes up, though,¡± I said. ¡°If the Angel¡¯s Sorrow is intended to mask the other poison, they would need similar symptoms, but the only symptoms that overlap can be mimicked by cheaper, more effective poisons. I can check. What time do you wish to visit him?¡±

    ¡°Tomorrow morning.¡±

    ¡°That soon?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Technically this morning, by now. We should leave at nine by the latest.¡±

    The clock sitting on the wall had the time at five minutes till one, and I wouldn¡¯t doubt its veracity if Voltar owned it.

    ¡°It¡¯ll take me three hours to reconstruct my eye, probably longer. And who knows how long it¡¯ll take to make sure those rocks aren¡¯t the result of a basilisk?¡±

    ¡°Sounds like a busy morning,¡± Voltar said, and gave me an apologetic grin. ¡°I¡¯d stay up to help, but as I am currently the one who didn¡¯t get to sleep last night, I think it should be your turn.¡±

    ***

    My eye itched.

    I should be grateful that the newly constructed organ only itched as opposed to any of the other sensations that could be running through it after being reconstructed from scratch. Still, the persistent annoyance running through it had been frustrating me over the last couple of hours.

    As far as I could tell, there were no issues with its performance, I¡¯d gotten it reconstructed in only a few hours, and I hadn¡¯t accidentally torn anything out of my body while grabbing the components I¡¯d consumed to form the eye. The most painful part had been eating those base components to begin with.

    Still, the irritation nagged at me, especially considering how much my current work depended on it. Knowing I¡¯d be getting a bare minimum of sleep afterward didn¡¯t help. Nor did the dull ache in both of my eyes from the lack of sleep.

    ¡°Looks like you¡¯re almost finished,¡± Voltar said right behind me.

    The shock did little to dispel my lethargy as I turned to look at him.

    The detective was dressed in a robe and had a fresh cup of what smelled like coffee in his hands, clearly to help keep him up since he¡¯d gone for a shorter sleep.

    His remark was regarding my current work, which was nearly finished. A half-assembled arm of stone lay on the table, joined by some cheap adhesive just to keep it in one piece. Chunks were missing, enough that in some places you could see through the middle of the arm, but enough was left to leave it unmistakable. I¡¯d only kept working to make absolutely sure, or maybe I¡¯d just lost track of time as I reassembled.

    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    ¡°Your basilisk hypothesis became much more likely,¡± Voltar said, looking over the reassembled arm.

    I rubbed my eyes, trying to get some measure of consciousness back. ¡°I¡¯d say this confirms it.¡±

    ¡°Assume nothing. There¡¯s a few other options but the possibility of them being correct is so minute you are probably correct. You¡¯re more of a Delver than me or Dawes. How would you kill such a beast?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not much of a Delver, but I can tell you the general idea for fighting a basilisk is don¡¯t. They¡¯d be enough of a terror if they could just petrify with a glance, but they are also giant lizards that can bite through stone who you have to fight blind. Delver¡¯s Guilds would be the best option to handle it. They¡¯ve already been having issues with it.¡±

    Voltar grimaced. ¡°I hardly have enough money to hire a team of Delvers.¡±

    ¡°Well, my only contact among them doesn¡¯t know Malvia Harrow, and was already mad at me over the amount of people interested in knowing who Katheryn Falara was, so I can¡¯t do much about that either. I¡¯d be a stranger approaching them.¡±

    ¡°I can see what my contacts among the Watch make of this after we visit Montague,¡± Voltar said. ¡°Although if no more cases of Angel¡¯s Sorrow poisoning occur over the next few weeks, interest will wane fast in hunting a monster under the city.¡±

    ¡°I know at least one person among the Watch who''s interested, but I can¡¯t speak to the quality of his unit. For the guilds, they¡¯ve already lost people to the basilisk so they may not be a hard sell. We might need something more concrete, but it¡¯s worth a shot.¡±

    Voltar mused for a few seconds before replying.

    ¡°Perhaps, but not anytime soon. We have the Montagues, then the Pure Bloods hideout to handle first. Leads from those might end up serving us better, and frankly, I¡¯ll take that over the Underground. Even if there¡¯s a general area they know the Basilisk is in, it could mean potentially weeks of searching if we don¡¯t have the help of the Watch.¡±

    That was true. Even small areas of the Underground were extensive warrens of tunnels and caverns, where you could spend an entire day in a cubic mile and not retrace your steps once.

    ¡°And if we find no more leads running through the next few days?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Then the hard work begins. But enough on that.¡± Voltar gestured towards the clock on the wall, which I only belatedly realized had its hour hand pointing straight down.

    ¡°Might be best for you to get a few hours of sleep before our departure.¡±

    ***

    Two and a half hours of sleep was too small a period to get some sleep in, and the half hour I¡¯d gotten ready in seemed too short as well, but I¡¯d eventually made it into the carriage.

    The jostling motion of that helped me stay awake, for once the poor maintenance of the city¡¯s eternally damnable roads doing something good for once in their existence.

    ¡°I maybe should have rescheduled,¡± Voltar noted. ¡°Your head is wobbling like a horse has kicked you.¡±

    ¡°You say that like you have experience,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine. Just give me a few more minutes. If I keep nodding off, I¡¯ve got a chemical solution I can fashion on the fly. Besides, how much experience do you have getting kicked in the head by a horse?¡±

    ¡°Too much, far too much. One would think when wrestling with a criminal, his livestock would have the decency not to interfere in it, although the horse later assured me it had been aiming for Krawlen¡¯s face.¡±

    It took me a while to place that. ¡°The Case of the¡­what did Dawes title it? The Chimera Horror? The one where you worked with those druids against an insane Biosculptor.¡±

    ¡°It seems like Biosculptors are made insane,¡± Voltar observed. ¡°Present company excluded.¡±

    ¡°It helps when you specialize in the human form and repairing or cosmetically altering it,¡± I said. ¡°And a few other tricks, most of which I removed when I reverted. Still debating if I should put those back in, to be honest. They¡¯re a good crutch, but at the end of the day they¡¯re still a crutch.¡±

    ¡°You read Dawes¡¯ write-ups of our stories, then?¡± Voltar asked. ¡°I never got the impression from the past you were particularly fond of either of us.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t like being caught up in messes,¡± I said. ¡°That¡¯s what Falara was supposed to be, a way to not get involved in every little thing. And no offense, but a lot of the people who help you out in your stories die.¡±

    Voltar snorted. ¡°Oh, those? Most of them are still alive. Dawes¡¯ just adds them because he and his editor think it heightens the dramatic tension.¡±

    ¡°You jest.¡±

    ¡°I do not! He¡¯s actually killed poor Victor three times, each time under a different name. I think only the royalty money has prevented those two from coming to blows.¡±

    I laughed. ¡°Well, I will say they heighten the tension some when they aren¡¯t every book. He¡¯s a good writer. And I read them religiously, if only to find out when you finally handle Versalicci.¡±

    Voltar¡¯s expression darkened.

    ¡°One of these days, yes. But hopefully Dawes can hear your compliment himself. That and you removing those tethers on your face makes me feel a little bad about this next bit. I need you to fully be Malvia Harrow while we are there, in order to keep any suspicions at bay.¡±

    I grimaced. ¡°That¡¯s..a difficult thing to ask. For a few reasons.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve heard and put Versalicci¡¯s entire mask spiel to use a few times by now.¡±

    ¡°Some masks are easier to wear than others. One mask is closer to who I consider myself than the other,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯d prefer to wear it as opposed to the one you¡¯re suggesting because I don¡¯t like putting myself back in that mindset.¡±

    Voltar blinked. ¡°You mean to tell me you consider your true self to be a refined, well-spoken, quick-talking, usually polite young lady who may as well have stepped out of one of the many examples of adventure or romance literature published here in the hundreds per year? And not a ruthless, quiet, blunt alchemical torturer, devil-summoning diabolist, and biosculpting gang member?¡±

    ¡°Some people like to aspire to something. It¡¯s who I¡¯d like to be,¡± I replied. ¡°And yes, I consider the former truer to myself than the latter.¡±

    He started laughing. I lost my temper. A hoof lashed out.

    A few minutes later, silence reigned in the carriage.

    His voice had a heavy edge of pain and strain to it as he spoke first. ¡°I suppose, in the end, I may have deserved that.¡±

    ¡°You did,¡± I said. ¡°Potion helping some?¡±

    ¡°A little. I¡¯m surprised I¡¯m able to speak as well as I am.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the potion helping. You¡¯ll not want to do any strenuous activity for the next day. Any friends of a special nature should refrain from intimate encounters to avoid any permanent damage.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll do my best to inform them.¡±

    The carriage came to a sudden halt, and I spared a glance outside and was confronted with a gigantic townhouse, four stories tall with the usual displays of noble, grandiose decorations. Marble pillars and a full sculpture of a dragon on the rooftop? Definitely built before Draconic species started coming here. They¡¯d made it pretty clear what they thought of humans claiming dragons as part of their coat of arms or sigils.

    It reminded me of the dead drake whose corpse I had harvested for the cure. Another loose thread to possibly examine. But there wasn¡¯t time for that now.

    Time to go see the Montagues.

 Chapter 41 - Motivation

    When I left the carriage, it was peering into the Arcane.

    I stayed in the Arcane often back with the Black Flame. Seeing the world colored in magic had often been easier than staying only in the material.

    The townhouse remained firmly cemented, statically remaining the same on the astral as it was on the material. Warded then, and almost entirely bereft of spirits. An expensive process to do over a building of this size. Had he inherited it or was Lord Montague much richer than I¡¯d been led to believe?

    Movement drew my gaze to the townhouse¡¯s roof. It was not bereft of everything in the astral.

    The dragon statue on top shifted, its head moving to peer down at me. Stoney eyes blazed bright blue, wisps of energy emanating from it as it unfurled its wings.

    I stood still, waiting for an attack that never came. Likely a watching enchantment or bound spirit tied to the statue as a guard.

    ¡°Something caught your eye?¡± Voltar asked me.

    I glanced over at the column of smoke with glowing red eyes that Voltar currently was.

    I couldn¡¯t read too much into things. Spirit association with living beings was much like the smoke Voltar was in my eyes. Too many powerful emotions and only one spirit would express at a time, meaning only one hint into current thoughts. And they appeared as abstract images that could represent any spirit and were never uniform among different people.

    Spirits were solid when separated from people. Tied to them, they were fluid.

    ¡°Nothing,¡± I said finally. ¡°There¡¯s a spirit bound in the dragon for security. The rest is warded.¡±

    ¡°Not too shocking. Ah, Mr. Gallas, good to see you again! Could you please ask Lord Montague if he could spare a moment of his time?¡±

    The front doors of the manor were guarded by an iron homunculi and a gargoyle till I blinked my eyes. The guard from my initial meeting with Lord Montague and another with the same inefficient body mods.

    There wasn¡¯t anything objectionable about sculpts that lowered a lifespan, but they should at least be efficient ones and not just chase a physical standard you could reach by hiring an ogre off the streets for the same job. They had the same metabolism after the modifications, so you didn¡¯t even save on food. What a waste.

    One of the two waited outside with us in a silence stretched out by my and his refusal to talk, leaving Voltar musing to himself until the second one finally came back out.

    ¡°-and of course, him being immortal may have posed an issue if not for becoming immortal not making him any less of an idiot nor any more capable of fighting, so he gets to enjoy being in Watch custody for the next five hundred years, 6 months, and two weeks. I think I might visit him again, assuming he doesn¡¯t try to bite through the bars again.¡±

    As it had stretched on, mutual stoney looks between me and the guard had turned to more sympathetic looks for each other, his much more than mine. After all, his exposure to Voltar would end soon.

    ¡°Now, in terms of immortal foes of mine expected to have long stays in prison, any list would be incomplete without- ah, Mr. Gallas, is Lord Montague willing to see us?¡±

    ¡°The Master will see you now,¡± the guard said in a low rumble as he opened the door. ¡°He had to take some time to prepare your reception after being informed of the nature of your companion.¡±

    I have no doubt what he meant by that. I should have hidden the tattoo and argued about doing so in the brief time we had before getting on the carriage, only to have Voltar insist on leaving it visible.

    ¡°I told you me coming was a mistake,¡± I said flatly as we entered, Gallas right behind us. A butler was there as well, who bowed and led us down the hall.

    Walls of marble, the white stone broken up by paintings or extravagant pieces of furniture, some of it displaying dishes or art pieces of silver or porcelain. I eyed some of it as we passed.

    This would be a king¡¯s ransom. If you could get inside. And assuming none of this was alarmed. And a hundred other security mechanisms Montague had to employ. Otherwise, this would have already been stolen. I blinked again, peering into the astral.

    No spirits floated about, which was unusual. Nobles certainly didn¡¯t like more powerful spirits free access to their house, of course, but every inch was bare, not a single expression of anything felt or done coming into being. Even the emanations from the surrounding servants were muted and restrained.

    This entire manor had been warded against everything magic.

    ¡°What do you think?¡± Voltar asked me as we tailed behind the butler in the main hall.

    Gauging my mask? Genuinely curious? The answer would depend on the reason for the question. Likely the former, so that would be what I went with. He also clearly didn¡¯t care about the servants around who would hear us. Frankness would be the way to go.

    ¡°The elder Montague keeps his house in order by stripping it bare of everything. Ruthless, but efficient. Probably something that you should handle now instead of later, but like my former employer, I doubt you will take my advice.¡±

    Some servants stilled, and I could feel the guard¡¯s tread behind us grow heavier. A hand grabbed the back of my shoulder and squeezed painfully.

    ¡°Nothing personal,¡± I got out as pain drove its spikes further into my arm. ¡°He asked for my opinion. He received it.¡±

    ¡°Peace, I¡¯m sure Ms. Harrow meant nothing untoward about Lord Montague,¡± Voltar reassured the guard. The attempted crushing of the shoulder stopped, although the guard did not look too convinced.

    ¡°I would never advise against openly attacking a noble,¡± I lied. ¡°Far too public and prone to backfiring.¡±

    The guard stared at me, face impassive, then finally let go.

    I would always advise for the subtle approach over the obvious one. If it wasn¡¯t for the warding all over the manor, Diabolism would be the perfect tool. A simple touch and a month later the Lord Montague would fight for his life against the malicious life growing inside him. The difficulty with that was always the spreading but I didn¡¯t decide when that was justifiable and when it was not.

    ¡°Please do not openly antagonize the guards,¡± Voltar said to me, not even trying to whisper. ¡°You¡¯re not in the Black Flame anymore.¡±

    ¡°If you don¡¯t want them antagonized, don¡¯t ask how I¡¯d deal with human nobility.¡±

    The hall ended in a ballroom, a cluster of people waiting halfway up the stairs leading to the manor¡¯s next level. I recognized two of them, the familiar faces of the Lord and Gregory Montague. The others I didn¡¯t recognize, but the livery and muskets made it very clear what their role was.

    ¡°Voltar!¡± Lord Montague roared.

    The guards leveled muskets at us as that word echoed across the walls. The butler swiftly got out of the line of fire.

    ¡°You brought a member of the Black Flame into my home? After the last one ended up being a Diabolist who nearly tore the barrier between us and the hells in twain Voltar? Have you taken leave of your senses?¡±

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    I kept my mouth shut. Words would just antagonize this one, and we couldn¡¯t have that. Besides, no one had asked me anything directly yet.

    ¡°I have not, Lord Montague. This is Malvia Harrow, formerly of the Black Flame and the one who informed me of Katheryn Falara¡¯s true identity.¡±

    ¡°And who failed to inform you she was a Diabolist?¡± Lord Montague asked flatly. ¡°It¡¯s because of that the foulhorn got away to begin with.¡±

    ¡°It seems a bit of a major omission to make, wouldn¡¯t you agree?¡± Gregory asked me directly.

    Be careful. This one had interacted with me much more than the father had in a casual environment, so he¡¯d be the one to fool the most.

    ¡°It would be impossible for me to know,¡± I said in a short, clipped tone. ¡°The gang keeps the identities of all Diabolists secret from other members to limit the danger of infiltration. Most didn¡¯t know my skills, I certainly didn¡¯t know Skall¡¯s except where ours overlapped. And I agree it¡¯s regretful she got away. By all rights, Skall should have been shot in the head years ago.¡±

    ¡°Assuming you are not her yourself,¡± Lord Montague seethed.

    The muskets remained mostly pointed at me. I kept my expression blank.

    ¡°Skall is still a member of the Black Flame,¡± Voltar said. ¡°Unless you want to accuse me of working with Giovanni Versalicci, I¡¯d reconsider what you¡¯re accusing me of, Your Lordship.¡±

    Montague¡¯s expression turned uncertain for a few moments, then hardened.

    ¡°Either way, this is very unusual and not something I¡¯m tempted to stand for, Voltar. Why are you here, and why is that here?¡±

    Slowly rotting from the inside might in fact be too good for Lord Montague, now that I thought deeper about it. Why had I not burned his eyeballs out at our first meeting again?

    ¡°Because Miss Harrow knows all Black Flame poisoning techniques and can determine which one was used to poison your son, and more importantly, I can tell you the answer to another mystery that has plagued your house, your lordship. Why have your most recent string of business acquisitions been failing?¡±

    Lord Montague considered the both of us, then slowly gestured for the muskets to lower.

    ¡°How will you be examining my boy? Which methods would you consider most effective, foulhorn?¡±

    ¡°The quickest method would be to cut the boy open. Would you prefer I do that?¡±

    Silence stretched on after that statement. Lord Montague looked like he wanted to rip my head off. Gregory looked little better. Most of the rest looked either that way or shocked.

    ¡°If she injures my son in any way, Voltar, you and she will both pay,¡± Lord Montague hissed.

    ¡°I can assure you she will not, your lordship,¡± Voltar replied.

    ¡°Just checking boundaries. Won¡¯t harm a hair on his head.¡±

    ¡°And I¡¯m supposed to believe that?¡± Montague snapped. ¡°Voltar, I thought I made it clear I only tolerated your involvement because Lady Karsin had already hired you. That was before that fiasco at her estate. Do you think I have any more patience for you now?¡±

    Fair point on his part. More than fair. I didn¡¯t believe for a second Voltar¡¯s explanation of why we had come here. Even if you trust the boss, never actually trust them to be truthful about why you were here. It was a trait Versalicci and Voltar shared, letting no one else in on their plans.

    It was going to be far too easy to slip into the same mask I wore for Versalicci as I did for Voltar.

    ¡°Still. I suppose some mysteries need answering. Gregory,¡± Lord Montague snapped. ¡°Take the foulhorn to Edward. Watch her, and if she does anything untoward, yell for one of the guards to chop her head off!¡±

    Gregory Montague nodded, coming down the stairs with a winning smile on his face. He offered his arm, gesturing to a hall.

    ¡°If you¡¯ll allow me to escort you, Miss Harrow?¡±

    I ignored him, silently walking down the hallway he gestured toward. He quickly caught up, walking by my side.

    I went back into the astral as we walked. Gregory Montague being replaced by a giant sunflower, was¡­.strange. I¡¯d just reminded myself about not guessing from astral representations, and this was a pleasant reminder why.

    ¡°It seems rather unusual to have two different members of the Black Flame who specialized in alchemy so tied into things around my family so recently,¡± Gregory said, tone light. ¡°It¡¯s not exactly an easy science to learn.¡±

    Fool Voltar. Bringing me here was a mistake no matter which way you cut at it. I considered Gregory Montague¡¯s throat, dismissed the thought. Too many witnesses.

    Go for it, said the demonic leech in my head.

    ¡°Former member,¡± I replied. ¡°Black Flame trains at least three or four on every field. Makes us more disposable. Less need for Versalicci to worry about one of us getting hung.¡±

    Not that it had helped too much towards the end there. I¡¯d been the last Biosculptor left when I¡¯d left, and one of three remaining alchemists. That I knew of, at least.

    ¡°Even so, you could see why I have serious questions about this, especially with you being a Biosculptor. Are you Katheryn Falara?¡±

    Very direct. He was worried. Rattled maybe? Surprised that someone he¡¯d shared tea with had turned out to be a diabolist capable of ripping a hole in the sky.

    ¡°Alice Skall was Katheryn Falara. Spent a lot of money and time, making sure she¡¯d make it as far away from old life as possible. Don¡¯t know what I could offer as evidence. I¡¯m not either of them. I was out-of-town till recently, making the smart decision.¡±

    ¡°Which was?¡±

    ¡°Running and not coming back,¡± I said. ¡°Skall was an idiot. Escape Versalicci, but not leave this city? The worst move she could make.¡±

    There were factors behind me not leaving. But staying had probably still been a mistake.

    The Younger Montague decided to back off from trying to pry my identity out of me. ¡°Why are you here? Voltar probably could have made his way in much easier without you.¡±

    ¡°Yes. I don¡¯t know his reasons, so don¡¯t ask. I told him not to, but he insisted on doing this.¡±

    ¡°You work with him frequently, then?¡±

    This was something I could tell the truth with at least.

    ¡°No. Until he showed up a few days ago, I had no contact and was happy with the world forgetting me. And then the world intruded. Is this the door?¡±

    It was the only door with three guards in front of it, weapons at the ready.

    ¡°Yep, this is the one. Calab, you can let this one pass. I¡¯ll keep my eye on her, come in if anything happens, father will mount her head on the wall, you know the drill.¡±

    The lead guard, a redhead nearly as tall as I was with a scar going across her chin, rolled her eyes but did step inside, letting us both in.

    A young man, gaunt in the face, sat in a bed near the door. He slept deeply, motionless except his chest moving up and down. Something half-emerged from the patient, a glaring white that forced me to shut my eyes as its incandescent blazed.

    ¡°Are you okay?¡±

    I reluctantly let go of the astral, opening my eyes as tears streamed out. The room was surprisingly plain, only the bed and a few chairs. There was a small, unadorned table with a few plates and a teapot on top that I ignored as best I could. I¡¯d not had time for a cup this morning.

    Rather spartan for what looked like a converted bedroom. Was the outside and hall simply a display to keep up appearances?

    ¡°I had to take myself out of the astral. I didn¡¯t realize the celestial influence would still express itself this strongly on the patient.¡±

    It shouldn¡¯t be. After failing to test morality, it hadn¡¯t taken long to change into a poison, minimizing traces like what I¡¯d just seen on the astral. Strange.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been peering into the arcane this entire time?¡± Gregory asked.

    ¡°Makes things easier.¡±

    ¡°Makes what easier?¡±

    I didn¡¯t answer. There was no need; I didn¡¯t want to get into gory details. I doubted he would appreciate a description of how it was easier to cut flesh when peering through a different plane.

    I moved to the patient¡¯s side. He was pale, approaching the color of milk, but outside that he seemed peaceful enough in his sleep. He looked similar to Gregory, heavier-set and with a rather long goatee. Those could not be coming back into style. I wouldn¡¯t tolerate it. A quick test showed no sign of fever either. He was approaching, if not at the point where the rest of the cure would be administered.

    Gregory Montague went to the table, grabbing the teapot and pouring a cup. ¡°Do you want one? I can have two ready for single-shot-swallows.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t like tea. Is he often left alone?¡± I asked, while checking Edward Montague¡¯s pulse.

    ¡°You mean outside the two guards? Yes. The only ones allowed in here are family, and while we try to keep at least one of us in here at all times, my father has had us busy hunting down leads about the Black Flame. For example, how their public presence has suddenly gone from reminders everywhere in the Infernal Quarter to completely gone?¡±

    ¡°Simple answer. Go underground when a public incident draws attention. Operating procedure one oh one. Also, I doubt people were as open, or you were as successful in searching there as you think. This one has been active today, hasn¡¯t he? No one has restrained him in the bed?¡±

    ¡°He was up and talking earlier today. Well, not walking, but certainly active. We gave him the sedative so he would actually rest.¡±

    I nodded as I took a few clippings of hair. Some more exotic toxins would leave traces there as they suffused through the entire body.

    ¡°It will be like that for a few days. His energy levels might spike, but do not tire him out. Or do, but I will not be responsible for what happens.¡±

    Gregory smiled. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sure. The personality change you warned about definitely hasn¡¯t happened yet.¡±

    I did not roll my eyes, but the temptation to at such obvious bait was powerful. It was even worse than his stunt with the tea-wait. My hands froze as I turned to look at Gregory. His own expression sobered as he saw mine.

    ¡°Repeat that, please.¡±

    He frowned. ¡°The personality changes? That you, as Katheryn Falara, warned me about? Listen, I am not easily fooled, and neither is my father, no matter what you might think, so unless we both get a firm explanation of what is going on, neither you nor Voltar are getting out of here alive.¡±

    ¡°Stupid!¡±

    I rushed to my feet, causing Gregory to do the same with a clatter. His hands moved in patterns, only to stop as I went to a nearby hall and rammed my head right into the wall.

    ¡°I am so fucking blind. Right in front of all of us this entire time!¡± I yelled. The door burst open, the guards coming through with weapons raised, but Gregory waved for them to lower them. ¡°You want an explanation? Of all of this? I can¡¯t give you all, but I can definitely tell you why this happened.¡±

 Chapter 42 - Too Little Sleep

    Things weren¡¯t as simple as just leaving the room and immediately going to see Lord Montague first. No, that would be too simple.

    ¡°As dramatic as that pronouncement is,¡± Gregory said. ¡°I think I¡¯ll require an explanation first before we boldly go off to inform my father and Voltar of this surely case-solving discovery.¡±

    The temptation to snark back was high, but I wanted him to be reminded as little as possible of our previous conversations. As tempting as getting drawn into traded words might be.

    ¡°Not case-solving,¡± I clarified. ¡°But very important. I want Voltar there to support me on several points, since his word is more trustworthy than mine, especially here.¡±

    Gregory chuckled while the guards formed up around the door; the message there was very clear to me. Trying to force my way past wouldn¡¯t turn out well for anyone involved.

    ¡°My father isn¡¯t exactly in favor of trusting Voltar, as you might have heard when you came inside. One might say he isn¡¯t fond of the man.¡±

    ¡°Less fond of him than he would be of me?¡± I asked.

    ¡°That¡¯s a fair point,¡± Gregory acknowledged. ¡°However, it won¡¯t be an issue for me.¡±

    I eyed the guards nervously. ¡°No matter how outlandish? Because this story verges on the more difficult-to-believe kind.¡±

    ¡°I once had to escape a room via an improvised, clothes-made parachute, followed by rafting through the canyon it took me down into. Try me.¡±

    That sounded¡­like a bit much for a tryst. A canyon?

    ¡°Shape-changers are involved,¡± I said, looking for any signs of disbelief or mockery.

    I recieved a slight raising of the eyebrow in response, which only made me realize that the proportion of people who regularly did that around me compared to those who didn¡¯t was entirely too high.

    He nodded slightly, gesturing to the table. ¡°Even if you don¡¯t like tea, it seems better to be seated and no giving Calab anything to worry about. Like you diving out the window or pulling something similar to what you did at Lady Karsin¡¯s estate.¡±

    ¡°What must I do to convince you I am not Katheryn Falara?¡± I asked, going over to sit down. Truth be told, anything to make the guards not consider me like a Watch officer waiting for the slightest reason to arrest you right as you¡¯d picked the right mark to pickpocket. Also, I really could go for a cup of tea.

    ¡°Finding her would do the job, I think,¡± Gregory said. ¡°Calab, you and your group can go back outside the room.¡±

    The lead guard¡¯s eyes widened in shock. ¡°But Master Gregory, you said that this one-¡°

    ¡°I know what I said. Trust me, if she started sacrificing me to a devil, you¡¯ll probably hear it in plenty of time to intervene. If it sounds like violence is going on, you can rush on in, and if it turns out not to be the case, it won¡¯t be the first time to be disappointed by his children¡¯s choices of who they invite into this room.¡±

    Calab seemed like she wanted to argue more, but another of the guards subtly shook his head just a little and soon it was just me, Gregory, and the sleeping form of Edward Montague.

    ¡°How do you like to take your tea?¡± Gregory asked.

    ¡°I don¡¯t drink tea,¡± I replied. ¡°Also, ¡®choices of who they invite into this room¡¯? I really hope you aren¡¯t implying what I think you are. This is only our first meeting.¡±

    ¡°Hrrm¡­third. Or fourth. Depends on how long you extend that first meeting we had to our little tea party with Lady Karsin.¡±

    I stared blankly at him as he poured two cups, setting one for each of us.

    ¡°You insisted I stay in here because you wanted to discuss my recent realization involving the attempted poisoning of your elder brother and didn¡¯t want me dashing off to see your father about it. I¡¯m assuming you have your reasons for wanting my reasoning first. Maybe in case the danger to your brother is immediate enough, we can¡¯t wait for a meeting with your father. I¡¯m being charitable there because it sounds like your real reasoning is finding out if I was Skall¡¯s disguise she used to hide her tendency to play jump rope with people¡¯s entrails!¡±

    The door opened briefly, a concerned-looking Calab peering inside, musket at the ready.

    ¡°Violence, Calab,¡± Gregory said. ¡°Not raised voices. Even if the latter typically leads with the former, you should know by now that¡¯s not the case most of the time with me.¡±

    The door shut again after a moment.

    ¡°She mothers me,¡± he explained. There are only six years between us, but it¡¯s apparently significant.¡±

    Mothered him. Sure.

    ¡°I believe you were saying something about me seemingly not taking this seriously?¡± He asked as he nudged my cup closer to me.

    Oh, the temptation. Pretend to be a novitiate to something that deserved the title of holy more than the burning drek clerics made to torture poor innocent Infernals or not risk it and go without?

    I settled on a sip and tried to disguise my moan of contentment as a surprised one of appreciation.

    ¡°And there goes my reputation with the guards on the other side of the door and anyone else who heard that.¡±

    ¡°You are really not helping with the idea that you aren¡¯t taking this seriously,¡± I muttered, taking another sip.

    Sighing, Gregory reached inside his coat, pulling out a medallion which he hit across the table three times. The reverberations continued for much longer than they should and blinked my eyes just in time to catch the lines of white and grey weaving themselves into all the openings in the room.

    ¡°No one should be able to overhear us. So. Shapechangers?¡±

    I risked a third sip before replying. ¡°Shape-changers.¡±

    ¡°A bit weird since the last public appearance of them was, well, decades past by this point. Although some nobles I¡¯ve known, I could entirely believe they were ones. Why do you and Voltar think them responsible?¡±

    What to say? I could hardly tell all the truth here unless I wanted to give up the idea of not being identified as Katheryn Falara.

    ¡°I encountered one while pursuing a lead on this case,¡± I said. ¡°I was investigating a warehouse connected to these events, and found a hidden storeroom. They came soon after, and we fought. Either that person was a shape-changer or showed abilities so similar that they might as well be one.¡±

    ¡°Investigating a lead for Voltar?¡± Gregory asked.

    Damnations. Voltar had hinted there was more to Gregory than met the eye. Magic of some kind? Perhaps best to stick close to the truth.

    ¡°My own lead. I got drawn into this partially at his prompting and I¡¯m more than familiar about how involvement with Voltar can turn out. Best to get ahead of potential complications instead of dealing with them as they arise.¡±

    A task I had wholly failed at, but that wasn¡¯t very important.

    ¡°And he agrees with the assessment it was shape-changing? Not say, Biosculpting?¡±

    ¡°Biosculpting of that kind doesn¡¯t move that fast,¡± I said. ¡°Even the best methods of healing don¡¯t allow one to suddenly chop an arm off and have it regrow in minutes. Or survive being burned alive and start regrowing.¡±

    ¡°Point taken,¡± Lord Montague said, taking a proper, righteous sip of tea that I immediately buried my desire to be smug about down. ¡°Voltar agrees with you about the Shape-changers?¡±

    ¡°He believes my account. If he found other evidence to support it? Who knows for sure? But from my discussions with him and Dr. Dawes, a possibility came up. Even a mutable being who can change form, if we¡¯re assuming an intelligence similar to most humanoids, would need something unique to them to prevent themselves from being subsumed in the role they are playing. An anchor. Something that remains unique. If they¡¯re artificial creations, it would make even more sense since their creators would want some kind of flaw, so they aren¡¯t too good at their job.¡±

    ¡°Makes a degree of sense,¡± Gregory said, frowning pensively. ¡°Bio-sculptors do the same with their own experimental creations, right?¡±

    ¡°The smart ones do,¡± I said. ¡°The others quickly find out why not having an easy off-button for your specially made murder machine is never a good idea. Then you get the ones who do include the button but also make the creature able to adapt and evolve within itself instead of across generations. Those end up being the nastiest ones.¡±

    ¡°I think I see a little of what you¡¯re suggesting. The personality-altering parts of the poison would be a good cover. But it¡¯s not without holes. Why not target infants? Or children? Why do this now? Why do it at all since they¡¯ve apparently remained hidden for this long?¡±

    I frowned. ¡°Good questions. Conservation of mass maybe on the children or infants? They may have a limit on how much their own mass can change. For why now, perhaps they¡¯ve settled on taking over people who aren¡¯t in the public eye, but something¡¯s changed, and they want to take over identities that give them more power.¡±

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    Gregory looked over the room with a sober expression. ¡°We¡¯ll have to be much more careful about who can access this. Have you found any ways to identify them?¡±

    I shook my head. ¡°None yet, although we haven¡¯t had time to research yet. I¡¯ve spent most of the last day running about confirming things and trying to fit pieces together. I have had three, maybe four hours of sleep, and this is after already having some less-than-restful nights.¡±

    ¡°Which might be why you¡¯ve not been on your game about disguising yourself.¡±

    I sighed, considering the ceiling above us. ¡°This? Again? Lord Montague, have you perhaps considered you are projecting from Skall onto me and that¡¯s why you think I am her? In which case, I immediately ask that you cease comparing me to her. She perhaps ranks among the worst five people I know, which is not an easy feat.¡±

    ¡°I am comparing you to Katheryn Falara, who I don¡¯t know enough about to say if she¡¯s on that list, but I¡¯m tempted not to put her anywhere near the worst people I know. The opposite.¡±

    My lips quirked. ¡°Lord Montague, I¡¯ve heard a few things from Voltar in being briefed on this case. First, Skall assaulted you. Second, what your reputation is as a lady¡¯s man-¡±

    ¡°Not just the ladies, let¡¯s please not besmirch my reputation,¡± he interrupted.

    ¡°Fair enough. If you¡¯re about to say that Alice Skall, Katheryn Falara, whichever you wish to call her, has intrigued you enough that you¡¯re desperate to pursue her, I will laugh.¡±

    He laughed instead. ¡°I assure you, she knew my reputation well, and I think having met my father first and being introduced to me first as a potential payment for her services went and messed any possibility of that up quite well. Assuming I¡¯m not talking to her.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not,¡± I said bluntly.

    ¡°I can understand the reluctance to be clear about this. Father¡¯s ability to understand nuance waxes and wanes depending on the situation and a combination of stress, the display at Lady Karsin¡¯s estate, and Infernals has it threadbare.¡±

    I frowned, leaning back in the chair. ¡°If this is going to turn into some explanation of an event that happened in his past that explains your father¡¯s views, I am going to be very needled over the idea it would excuse things.¡±

    Gregory snorted. ¡°Oh gods no, Father¡¯s reasons for hating your kind have never made sense, no matter how many reasons he¡¯s given. One of which is the Black Flame to which I¡¯ve told him to his face. Blaming them for him being that stupid is no excuse.¡±

    I took another sip of the tea. ¡°I can see Versalicci wrapping your father around his finger easily enough, but if you know the specific story, I wouldn¡¯t mind hearing it.¡±

    ¡°Ah, ah.¡± Gregory wagged his finger. ¡°No getting off the subject, which is relatively simple. You do not need to put on this charade, although I must commend you on the suggestion you¡¯d carve up Edward. You, being that bluntly impolite, certainly threw Father off the trail.¡±

    I rolled my eyes, putting the teacup down. ¡°If it progresses us past this topic of conversation, let¡¯s pretend I am actually Katheryn Falara. What do you wish to discuss with her so much that it couldn¡¯t wait?¡±

    Some kind of impish glee lit behind his eyes as his mouth opened, but then it shut and that fire guttered out. After a few seconds, he spoke.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t like me comparing you to Alice Skall. How does Malvia Harrow compare to Alice Skall?¡±

    Well, at least this wasn¡¯t about me secretly being Katheryn Falara.

    ¡°Marginally better,¡± I said. ¡°More of a distance now than back then. Depends on which Malvia Harrow you¡¯re talking to.¡±

    ¡°What difference would it make?¡±

    I started to talk, but then my mouth clamped shut. This¡­. I should not open up this much. I¡¯d never opened up this much except to Mother, and she¡¯d been in a coma by that point. By all rights, I should end this conversation here and insist on seeing Voltar.

    Instead, I sighed and spoke.

    ¡°People change. Not always dramatically, which is how this whole mess got started,¡± I said, gesturing towards his brother. ¡°Imagine you¡¯re a street kid in the Quarter. The bad days of the Quarter, before they started conscripting everyone to go fight the empire¡¯s wars. This room we¡¯re in? You¡¯d get twenty people living in a space that small, inside or outside. You¡¯re an Infernal, which means in the eyes of everyone, you are worse than the excrement. Your entire race was responsible for the Hell¡¯s Empire, the Damnations, Her Most Profane Majesty.¡±

    ¡°Other districts have it bad, of course. But other districts have the Watch trying to keep the peace. The only time the Watch came in was when someone inside the Quarter had done something to an actual citizen, and that was just to grab the ten close enough to a description if they had it. If a fire starts in another district, even if the fire brigades fight each other and are drunk, at least they exist. You¡¯re not getting charged triple prices on firewood in the middle of winter when walking home means tripping over a body in the street that¡¯s frozen under the snow. Imagine growing up as a pickpocket there, slowly working your way up by the slim pickings exploiting your own kind because if they catch you outside the district, they don¡¯t hang you, they drive silver spikes in your eyes to trap your soul in some church vault so you don¡¯t go to the hells.¡±

    Montague looked a little ill for the first time I¡¯d seen him. Oh, was he hearing this for the first time, perhaps? He said he¡¯d been down to the Quarter. I¡¯d seen him there, but of course, he never knew. They never knew till you rubbed their faces in it and forced them to look.

    ¡°Eventually, you get offered a chance to join the biggest gang in town, only it¡¯s not like any gang you¡¯ve been a part of. The guy in charge talks about not being a gang but changing things, and everyone else seems to believe. After a while, you start to believe, if only because you don¡¯t want things to be the same. Then he actually starts doing what he said.¡±

    Completely sober in expression, Gregory nodded. ¡°I hear you so far. The other Malvia?¡±

    ¡°Imagine finding out it was all a lie, and there¡¯s no way for you to leave.¡±

    Gregory winced, then frowned, face pensive. ¡°By no way to leave, you mean?¡±

    ¡°Dead. I would be dead the moment I gave any hint, any sign. I was in too deep, in more ways than one. I retreated inside myself, just gave advice, and did the tasks assigned to me. It didn¡¯t seem that out of the ordinary to him. He had plenty in his ranks who just lost motivation and got burnt-out. I didn¡¯t burn out, just retreated like a coward away from it all.¡±

    ¡°I eventually found a way out. Too late to avoid the worst scars. I can¡¯t show them, because I got rid of them. Vanity, and Biosculpting. At least I never went as far with that diabolic duo as some go. Some are..¡± I would not mention the imp. ¡°Some stick around in their own ways. In some ways, I think finding a way out was the worst part.¡±

    Gregory stayed quiet, not saying anything, as the rest of what I wanted to say slowly came out.

    ¡°It felt like¡­I could have done it at any point. Which meant anything I had done I couldn¡¯t have if only I tried earlier.¡± I snorted bitterly, taking another drink of the tea. ¡°The funny thing is how things got better in the Quarter right after. We attempted to take over the city, practically spat in Her Majesty¡¯s Face, and apparently, that¡¯s what caused them to actually pay attention. Not going to pretend it wasn¡¯t for anything but to make sure something like that wouldn¡¯t happen again, but things got better. Of course, they also started conscripting everyone with horns and a tail, and it¡¯s easy to tell where that¡¯s going. Meanwhile, I¡¯m stuck here doing whatever the hells this is.¡±

    ¡°Helping my brother,¡± Gregory said. ¡°Which I appreciate. You didn¡¯t need to do this.¡±

    He didn¡¯t get it. Of course, he didn¡¯t.

    ¡°I¡¯m being paid,¡± I said bluntly. ¡°If I¡¯m Falara by your father, if I¡¯m Malvia by Voltar. If it weren¡¯t for that, I wouldn¡¯t be here.¡±

    ¡°Payment or not, I appreciate it,¡± Gregory told me. ¡°No matter what else you¡¯ve done, you¡¯ve helped him.¡±

    ¡°I did it entirely, purely out of self-interest. Not altruism. Not even pay, blackmail, since all it might take is the right words to the right people for me to re-experience the joys of having my fingers chopped off by the Watch again.¡±

    Gregory paled a little. ¡°They actually did that? I thought those were exaggerations. Are you exaggerating?¡±

    ¡°I. Am. Not.¡± I hissed. ¡°They cut them through the bone. Again and again, and each time when I made it out, I¡¯d regrow them one by one. One time Versalicci got me a present when we escaped. He nabbed the woman who did it, had her dragged underground, and told me as a gift I¡¯d do the same to her. And I fucking did, as she shrieked and wailed, and I did nothing but watch. And then he took her to a circle and had her torn apart by imps so he could make a succubus out of what was left. And I watched. And back then? I loved him for it.¡±

    He leaned back, muttering something under his breath.

    ¡°Whether or not I¡¯m Falara, here¡¯s the best advice I can give you, Montague. Stop prying if you don¡¯t want to find things that discomfort you, because I will make you squirm. I have killed people and felt their lives slip out along with their blood along my claws or through my teeth. I have poisoned people with concoctions that make what¡¯s happening to your brother look like mercy!¡±

    I was out of my chair now, those same claws pushing into the table¡¯s surface.

    Gregory Montague stood up from his chair and looked hesitatingly at the door. ¡°Perhaps we should end this here?¡±

    No. He¡¯d insisted on this. He was going to get this. As his hands reached for the medallion device, I gestured.

    With my body back to normal, it didn¡¯t hurt to call on Diabolism. All it harmed was my soul and my conscience, and both of those were just a pretense on my part.

    Wisps of shadow shot from my fingers, the air shrieking as they carved their path, taking the medallion. Another of them shot for the door, filling in the cracks and jamming it shut.

    ¡°I had blood on my hands while you were being taught which fork is the salad one. What do you think Diabolists do in the Black Flame, Gregory? Your father is the one with the rational approach here because even on the other side of those muskets, rid yourself of any idea that the rational move is keeping me alive.¡±

    The temperature in the room dropped as shadows gathered around my feet. The window shuddered, the frame shifting as parts forced their way inwards, and the wall became crooked.

    ¡°What I did at the tower. Through a body designed to inhibit any channeling of the Diabolism, with injuries aplenty and only manageable because I had a focus attuned to me. If you think that¡¯s the worst I can do, whichever files you¡¯ve been reading didn¡¯t tell you enough!¡±

    Shadows gathered around me, more going to the windows to blot out the light, others snuffing out the candles and the lamp.

    ¡°Katheryn,¡± Gregory said warningly, hands out almost like he thought he could push me away.

    ¡°Let¡¯s both sit down, and we can just talk this out reasonably and without my brother in the room. I perhaps pushed you a bit hard-¡±

    ¡°Perhaps?¡± I yelled. ¡°Do you have any idea how much I told you not to pry?¡±

    Gregory nodded, and then suddenly, something clamped around me, squeezing.

    Mage! I blinked, going into the astral once again, and when I opened them, I was blind.

    Light, light all around, at its epicenter Gregory Montague, a lute in hand that wasn¡¯t there in the material, shimmering gold.

    It seared my eyes, and I wrenched my gaze away. A cleric?! Him?!

    ¡°I do apologize in advance,¡± I heard, and then a second later that searing wasn¡¯t just in my eyes.

    The touch of the divine wasn¡¯t pleasant, even in its lightest forms. Shadows dissolved, fleeing as their connection to me was cut, and my flesh screamed at the touch of a deity¡¯s attention.

    And then suddenly, it was gone, and I stood in the same room, exactly the same as it was before.

    Gregory Montague stood across, strumming absentmindedly on that lute that still hurt to look at, but not as much. He looked.. sorrowful.

    ¡°You¡¯ve got no sense of craft,¡± Gregory said as the last of my patterns dissolved. ¡°Makes it very easy to dispel.¡±

    I teetered, feeling ill. What had I been about to do? Another in a long string of mistakes I had yet to pay for.

    Gregory watched me cautiously but made no further moves as I fell against the chair. Finally, I dragged myself onto it, staring blankly at the cup of tea. I moved it out of the way in a daze before my face fell down to land on the table, supported by my arms as I tried to blot out all the light.

    ¡°Malvia?¡± He asked me quietly. ¡°Malvia? Are you alright?¡±

    The silence stretched on. He was standing right behind me, close enough I could feel him, but he didn¡¯t move any closer.

    ¡°Katheryn?¡±

    I let out a sound halfway between a choke and a sob.

    ¡°Katheryn Falara,¡± I said. ¡°Is a fantasy concocted to hide behind. It is the end of responsibility.¡±

    ¡°Well, regardless of that, do you need anything?¡±

    I tried to think of something, anything to say. There was one thing, but for hells sake, he was practically a stranger.

    ¡°Quiet. Please. Just¡­.quiet.¡±

    I couldn¡¯t tell when it was I drifted off to sleep.

    Perhaps there is some potential in you yet. Something crooned as I drifted deeper. The music weaver being here was something you can eventually overcome. Oh, technique I could always teach you, but your heart never was in it before now. Now that it is.

    Oh, you¡¯ll do better than the other.

 Chapter 43 - The Second Blow

    Something pulled on my horns, and in an instant, I snapped awake. Gregory Montague sat back down across from me, sipping from a cup of tea.

    ¡°Ah, the sleeping beauty awakens,¡± Gregory said. ¡°I¡¯ll have you know that as soon as our minor disagreement was over, I fixed the room up, brought Lieutenant Calab in, and explained that because of excitement and lack of sleep, you¡¯d passed out. She just left. We¡¯ve been having a pleasant conversation this entire time.¡±

    Them holding a conversation around my unconscious body was not the most important thing regarding everything that had happened, but my mind almost stuck on it, anyway.

    ¡°Please tell me that was all a dream,¡± I said. ¡°Also, did you just touch my horns?

    ¡°No, I nudged them with a teacup, as it¡¯s been a few hours. Depends on what ¡®that¡¯ is,¡± Gregory said. ¡°I can hardly tell what you were dreaming after you fell asleep. Oh, do you mean ranting at me and infusing the room with enough Infernal energy that the floorboards started trying to stab me with little splinters of wood after you passed out?¡±

    That¡­sounded too much like an aftereffect of Diabolism for me to discount that as a lie.

    ¡°How much of this is an act?¡± I asked.

    Gregory cocked his head. ¡°I¡¯m not sure what you mean.¡±

    ¡°This, the easygoing lady¡¯s man who is in constant rebellion against your father. Then we have you as a cleric who just¡­prevented me from doing something I¡¯d regret but is not castigating me as some kind of Hellspawn out to tempt all into sin.¡±

    ¡°How many clerics have you met?¡± Gregory asked. ¡°Because I can assure you most definitely do not sound like that.¡±

    ¡°What type of cleric do you think often comes to the Infernal Quarter?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t. I think part of your rant was about how I know nothing about the Infernal Quarter? But I serve Tarver, God of Bards, Music, Adventuring, and Parties. The fun god! So everything you consider unclerical is actually me being the most clerical cleric I can be in service to my god.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m still dreaming,¡± I said to myself. I¡¯d just gone on a rant and a rampage against a member of the nobility with Diabolism and he was just ignoring it had happened!

    ¡°It¡¯s not. Listen, this wasn¡¯t done because my father asked me to, although I wouldn¡¯t be shocked if he suspects you. I did it because I wanted to make certain you weren¡¯t here as part of some strange Black Flame scheme.¡±

    ¡°And that involved confronting me by yourself and hoping you could take me out?¡± I asked. ¡°That seems far too risky, especially if I actually was here to do some scheme of the Flames. Which you haven¡¯t ferreted out yet. Unless you drugged the tea.¡±

    If he had, well, I wouldn¡¯t be as idiotic as I was a few hours ago in making him regret that.

    ¡°Of course not. Sorry, but your little outburst was entirely you. And it¡¯s not as bad a plan as you might think. The room¡¯s heavily warded against the Diabolical, which I thought would be enough. It wasn¡¯t, but it ended up working out. Who taught you how to use magic?¡±

    Do not insult my teachings, servant of the light! She is very much an early work in progress!

    Ah. How to answer this? I hadn¡¯t mentioned the Imp, so I could settle with my old teacher from the Black Flame. He¡¯d probably buy I¡¯d been taught by someone who rotted their own leg off with poor spell crafting.

    ¡°You don¡¯t need to say if you don¡¯t want to,¡± Gregory said. ¡°You¡¯re entitled to your secrets, especially after you just spilled a lot of them to me.¡±

    ¡°Not nearly all of them,¡± I muttered, looking down at my hands. ¡°So¡­what happens next? Can I get a head start on running out of here?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t see why you¡¯d need one,¡± Gregory replied. ¡°It¡¯s not like I¡¯ll be telling anyone else.¡±

    I was at a complete loss for words, none coming out till I finally forced a single word question past my lips.

    ¡°Why?¡±

    He was about to respond when a third voice spoke up.

    ¡°Gregory, an Infernal?¡± a stranger¡¯s voice said from behind me. ¡°You¡¯re going to sleep with her? Father is actually going to kill you this time. How did you even get her inside the manor?¡±

    Gregory sighed.

    In bed, Edward Montague had propped himself up on his elbows, blinking the bleary eyed-sleep out of his eyes.

    ¡°You pick the worst times to wake up, Edward,¡± Gregory said. ¡°I don¡¯t think Elise is going to forgive you for the time before this. She¡¯d already had her chicken torn apart by father before you added to his horrible day.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t make her decide that the best place to make out with her boyfriend was my room,¡± Edward Montague groused. ¡°Or that she should try dating an orc without father¡¯s permission, whose family only received a title one generation ago as well. Is this one a similar story?¡±

    ¡°This one,¡± I said icily. ¡°Can speak for herself. I am an Infernal, a commoner, and an alchemist who was brought here to examine you to make sure you¡¯ve only been poisoned with Angel¡¯s Sorrow. Congratulations, your lordship, you only merit one type of poison.¡±

    If my words bothered Edward Montague, he did not let it show.

    ¡°I thought you said the Infernal supplying my cure had pink skin,¡± he said to Gregory. ¡°I almost missed it since you spent so much time talking about other aspects, but I remembered that much.¡±

    ¡°No, that one later turned out to be part of some scheme by the Black Flame to blackmail father, Edward,¡± Gregory gleefully told him. ¡°She also turned out to be a Diabolist who terrified father and tore a hole in the fabric of reality.¡±

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    I had not! Not intentionally, anyway. Also, what ¡®Other aspects¡¯?

    ¡°The Black Flame?¡± The other Montague frowned. ¡°Never heard of them.¡±

    ¡°Only because you don¡¯t bother to read files in the restricted stacks. They¡¯re a criminal syndicate who almost took over the entire city and also are all Infernal. Miss Harrow here also happens to be a member.¡±

    ¡°Former member,¡± I answered automatically. ¡°Also, never the entire city. Versalicci¡¯s best-case goal was only ever a quarter. Getting half of the city was mostly because of incompetence on everyone else¡¯s part.¡±

    That and all the devils and such. But it was amazing how much human nobility was willing to think someone was too dumb to comprehend things because they were lowborn and Infernal. And how easily they could be set on each other in return.

    Edward Montague¡¯s expression didn¡¯t shift as both I and Gregory talked. ¡°I¡¯m going back to sleep. And hopefully, whoever this is doesn¡¯t cut my throat. I¡¯m actually starting to feel good again, so it would be really unpleasant if you did.¡±

    ¡°Well, I will leave you to your arduous task, brother,¡± Gregory said before turning to face me. ¡°Voltar and my father?¡±

    ¡°Voltar and your father,¡± I agreed.

    In many ways, I was grateful for Edward Montague waking up. The hells had I been doing?

    ***

    The good news was it only took ten minutes to reach where Lord Montague and Voltar were in a small sitting room as decorated as his front hall, also enjoying tea and biscuits.

    That¡¯s where the good news ended.

    ¡°Oh, that?¡± Voltar said after I¡¯d explained my revelation to him. ¡°I figured that out the moment you told me of the involvement of Shape-changers.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t believe you,¡± I told him. ¡°You have not mentioned it once.¡±

    ¡°As much as I am reluctant to provide reinforcement for this man¡¯s points, he was discussing it with me hours before you barged in here. I expected this one to lack manners, but I was hoping you¡¯d at least learn some, Gregory.¡±

    ¡°I am afraid I must disappoint you, father, as always.¡±

    ¡°It was all rather simple when you make the connections between the relevant information,¡± Voltar told me. ¡°It might seem far-fetched, but it¡¯s just good deductive reasoning.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re an incubus,¡± I muttered.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, what?¡± Voltar asked, nonplussed.

    ¡°An incubus. Dawes said you weren¡¯t fey and I believe him, so now I think you¡¯re an incubus. You used diabolism to overhear me or read my mind , or you traveled through time to steal my thunder.¡±

    Lord Montague groaned. ¡°Voltar, it¡¯s bad enough you are bringing Infernals with you. Do you have to bring broken ones as well?¡±

    Voltar barely spared a glance for our noble host.

    ¡°While I can¡­see the general shape of your idea, I am not an incubus,¡± he told me. ¡°It¡¯s a simple manner of connecting facts. Besides, I do not nearly fill the quota of trysts an incubus would need to stay on the mortal plane.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s quite a few,¡± Gregory said. ¡°I should know. Father tried to convince the church I was one so they would execute me.¡±

    ¡°They only barely avoided doing that. More¡¯s the pity,¡± Lord Montague added.

    I¡­that was banter. Probably.

    ¡°You lust for mysteries or something similar,¡± I accused Voltar. ¡°So, if you already knew, what you told me about wanting to test the son for other alchemical substances, true or not?¡±

    ¡°True. I¡¯ll admit I came here to talk to Lord Montague about this, but your task is a legitimate one.¡±

    ¡°And as loath as I am to agree with you on anything or do what you request, I will find the information you requested from the archives,¡± Lord Montague said. ¡°Pain that it will be. This will be in the older stacks, the one grandfather never organized.¡±

    ¡°You could ask your children,¡± Gregory said. ¡°We¡¯ve been rummaging through those old documents as long as we¡¯ve been alive.¡±

    ¡°Not the ones in the restricted stacks, those are under lock and¡­¡± Lord Montague trailed off, severe expression growing worse. ¡°How many of you have accessed the restricted stacks?¡±

    ¡°That I know of? Three, including myself. Of everyone? Probably all but Edward.¡±

    ¡°At least he knows obedience.¡±

    ¡°He doesn¡¯t want to risk his inheritance from you are the words you are looking for, father.¡±

    Lord Montague groaned. ¡°I thought this was over and done with by just keeping Edward protected, now you tell me that the moment the cure is administered we¡¯re going to be hip-deep in Shape-changers trying to get in here and replace him.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I think I know when they might intrude,¡± Voltar said. ¡°A week from now, to be precise.¡±

    For a second both Lord and Gregory Montague looked about as confused as I felt, but realization dawned on the both of them.

    ¡°The ball,¡± Lord Montague said to himself. ¡°Oh bollocks. You might be right on that.¡±

    ¡°Might be? He definitely is?¡± Gregory said. ¡°We have to bring in outside help for these, as well as all the invites. Some of them bring their own guests. Of course they have limited access to the manor, but if Shape-changers are involved in this, it¡¯ll be child¡¯s play. Of course, they could do it at any time.¡±

    ¡°Why take a risk, though?¡± I said. ¡°The timing is about right as well. From how your son¡¯s symptoms have been described to me, the antidote will have to go in sometime in the next two to three days. Then a week of bed rest to recover, after which any personality changes would become apparent.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯ll be disappointed,¡± Lord Montague said. ¡°I was already going to cancel the event. It was going to be a chance for Edward and Lady Karsin to become better acquainted with each other, and with him still suffering from this poison, he will not attend. Best to call the whole thing off.¡±

    ¡°Or we could make a trap,¡± Voltar suggested.

    Lord Montague¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°My son is not being bait in a trap, Voltar.¡±

    ¡°Lord Montague, we have to consider that the individuals carrying out this little replacement plan may very well be trying to run clean-up on this operation. Especially if they are working with Versalicci. Malvia, if you could elucidate?¡±

    ¡°The Black Flame always holds that if an operation has been fully cocked-up to the extent this one has, the first order of business is eliminating any potential witnesses or adversaries with full prejudice, and using proxies. If Versalicci is working with the shape-changers, he will use them to clean as much of this up as violently as possible and rely on being in an entirely different place before anyone sifts through the wreckage enough to find him. Using the shape-changers means killing two birds with one stone, since it¡¯ll prune them as well as a potential risk.¡±

    ¡°Then we fetch the Watch and do not risk me or my family,¡± Lord Montague insisted.

    ¡°It sounds like we are already at risk, Father,¡± Gregory said. ¡°If they plan to try to eliminate us already, this won¡¯t change things.¡±

    ¡°Wrong,¡± I interrupted. ¡°If you approach the Watch, the additional pressure on Versalicci may make him move faster to eliminate as many links between him and this as possible.¡±

    ¡°Keeping the ball going, on the other hand, lets us control what time the attack will take place,¡± Voltar said. ¡°It provides a tempting enough opportunity that they will forgo an earlier attack to take advantage. We will of course contact the Watch, but elements we can count on to aid us and be surreptitious about it.¡±

    ¡°I have my security we can use for this event as well.¡±

    ¡°Let me suggest something a step further, that you have among your hired security someone who is one of the best people to ferret out such a being, in disguise. They could attend your ball and add just that extra layer of security, as well as helping us all figure this mess out faster. Only if you wish, my lord, but it should only be three, the Empire¡¯s greatest detective, his trusted companion, and his new apprentice.¡±

    To my absolute horror, he gestured towards me at that last word.

    Attend? Disguise? Apprentice?

    ¡°This is why people don¡¯t like you,¡± I told Voltar. ¡°This is exactly why!¡±

    He smiled while Gregory, perhaps sensing my sheer murderous intent, moved a few steps to the side.

    ¡°My tendency to take people to parties? I would think that¡¯s a point in my favor.¡±

    I could not go through life kicking Voltar every time he irritated me. Not only was it pure violence, just for a brief moment of catharsis, sure to cause people who witnessed it to think of me as a violent brute, but it was not the way to actually try to resolve these things.

    All of this occurred to me after I did it for the second time today.

 Chapter 44 - Beginning of the Wet Season

    Getting back to the house was a little more complicated than before. Conversation between myself and Voltar had stalled after the second kick, and so I found out moments after we arrived that there was a small tunnel entrance to Voltar and Dawes¡¯ house.

    Finding out that the exit was in the room I¡¯d talked to both earlier was disconcerting. Lifting the hatch led right into the middle of it. I hadn¡¯t spotted any signs at all talking to them in here before.

    ¡°Well, Voltar is limping. Do I even want to know?¡± Dawes asked, putting down the newspaper he was reading.

    ¡°Things have gone well, Doctor. We are a step closer to solving the case!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a step closer to running for the hills and hoping I outrun whoever the government sends after me,¡± I told Dawes. ¡°It¡¯d be less stress on us all at this point.¡±

    ¡°She exaggerates.¡±

    ¡°I do not! He has volunteered us for a ball and appointed me as his apprentice,¡± I informed Dawes. ¡°Without my, or I assume, your, permission.¡±

    ¡°Not going,¡± Dawes replied. ¡°Not unless I can bring someone along, which, if this is Lord Montague¡¯s event, is unlikely.¡±

    ¡°No one appreciates when I secure them invites to parties,¡± Voltar complained. ¡°While I understand the reluctance, doctor, this is related to the case at hand.¡±

    ¡°The last party related to a case involved both of us nearly drowning from a punchbowl elemental,¡± Dawes said.

    ¡°That will probably not be the case here,¡± Voltar said, settling down in a chair. ¡°But if you wish to give up your spot as vanquisher of the elemental, Miss Harrow can substitute in instead.¡±

    ¡°Miss Harrow is considering whether I can get away with kicking you again,¡± I said. ¡°Apprentice? What on earth possessed you to say that?¡±

    ¡°That you¡¯ll be dealing with us the most after this, and I don¡¯t consider you an entirely lost cause?¡± Voltar answered. ¡°You can hardly think that you¡¯ll go back to being a disreputable alchemist after all this, do you?¡±

    I had been considering that, in fact, but in the end, that was a rather foolhardy hope.

    ¡°Still, apprentice? Contractor would be fine.¡±

    ¡°Maybe a discussion for another time. Well, since we are here at home, perhaps we should discuss the rest of what was discovered at Lord Montague¡¯s estate. You tested his heir for other toxins?¡±

    ¡°Yes. And as far as I can determine, without more invasive procedures, he¡¯s not afflicted with anything else. At this stage of the Angel¡¯s Sorrow, it might be impossible to poison him with anything else. The poison is built around a metaphysical concept of purity from a celestial viewpoint. The only reason Draconic substances work as an antidote is they have the sheer strength not to be obliterated by the Angel¡¯s Sorrow.¡±

    ¡°About what I expected. Also, not something that explains why you took several hours to find me or why I was hearing one of Lord Montague¡¯s guards whispering to him about you passing out.¡±

    ¡°Gregory Montague knows who I am,¡± I told him.

    ¡°A potential issue. He slipped past your mask?¡±

    How to answer this one? Be honest about the fact I¡¯d gone on a rant in front of him, confessing to it as I tried to stab him with Diabolism? Not a chance, but from the look on Voltar¡¯s face, I didn¡¯t have a choice in that matter.

    ¡°How badly did you give yourself away?¡± he asked, tone morbidly curious.

    ¡°I..¡± I weighed my words. ¡°In hindsight, him being a cleric of Tarver might explain a few things about how easily he made me open up.¡±

    He¡¯d said he hadn¡¯t drugged the tea, and I believed that if only because it had tasted none different from normal tea. But divine magic related to a god of bards? There could easily be something in the arsenal that god would grant to make me loosen my tongue. Believe things I shouldn¡¯t.

    Voltar nodded. ¡°Indeed. Something to keep in mind for the future.¡±

    That had been too nonchalant.

    ¡°You knew and didn¡¯t tell me,¡± I said. ¡°And now you want me to know, or you would have been better about covering that up.¡±

    ¡°Or maybe I just assume that, given what happened, you aren¡¯t perceptive enough to catch on?¡± Voltar asked. ¡°But to answer your line of thought, clerics of Tarver do not deal with mind-altering magics. Any forthrightness you displayed is on you, Miss Harrow.¡±

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    ¡°I still should have known,¡± I said. ¡°Even if he couldn¡¯t coerce information magically, there¡¯s a world of difference between how I¡¯d treat a cleric and a non-cleric.¡±

    ¡°Which is why I didn¡¯t tell you. I¡¯m presuming your attitude wouldn¡¯t be friendly, and I don¡¯t need Gregory Montague wondering how you knew. I gave you a hint to be careful about him, but he¡¯s reversed what you said about him being one sufficiently voluptuous woman away from fatal distraction.¡±

    I stared blankly at Voltar, considering my options. Kicking wasn¡¯t doing much to dissuade him, and engaging him in conversation wasn¡¯t a winning strategy either. Perhaps a sudden escalation would serve me better?

    ¡°Please stop looking at me like you¡¯re two seconds away from trying to knife my throat?¡± Voltar asked.

    ¡°Please don¡¯t injure him,¡± Dawes said. ¡°Cleaning the blood out and waiting for him to heal is such a spot of bother.¡±

    I frowned. ¡°I wasn¡¯t serious earlier about you being an incubus, but if you can regenerate-¡±

    ¡°I am not an incubus,¡± Voltar said irritably. ¡°Nor am I a fey. I am a human, and I¡¯d ask you to stop coming up with increasingly exotic possibilities for what I am.¡±

    ¡°Kitsune?¡±

    Voltar groaned and got up from his chair. He headed towards the small kitchen, presumably to fix something.

    ¡°It¡¯s why I asked you to stop guessing earlier. He hates the idea he¡¯s some kind of powerful magical being instead of just a ¡®person with a very functioning brain¡¯, as he puts it. Also, Kitsune? I¡¯m not familiar with that word.¡±

    ¡°My great-grandmother killed one. And may have also had some of my relatives with them as well? Shapeshifting fox creatures, tricksters. I think they might be fey-adjacent?¡±

    ¡°They are not,¡± Voltar said, coming back in with a tray of biscuits. ¡°It¡¯s a common assumption, but there is very little relation between the two. Listen, it¡¯s not that you aren¡¯t trusted, but-¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not trusted,¡± I said. ¡°Honestly, if you are about to say this is all some test to see if I¡¯m still working with Versalicci, I¡¯m out. You put me in a room with a cleric with minimal sleep after making me deal with Versalicci and didn¡¯t expect some kind of disaster to come from it? Or was this some attempt to get across to Gregory what was going on in the most volatile way possible?¡±

    ¡°If I answer that I honestly expected you to just run the tests, not engage with him, and for that to be all, would you believe me?¡±

    ¡°No. Just from prior behavior, I wouldn¡¯t. So how about a deal?¡± I suggested. ¡°You stop needling me and leaving me in the dark, and maybe I¡¯ll consider becoming your apprentice.¡±

    ¡°Would you actually?¡±

    ¡°Consider? Yes. Actually be one? No.¡±

    Voltar sighed, then changed the subject.

    ¡°We have a week to prepare for the ball, but we can hardly be idle during this time, of course. The first order of business, I¡¯ve decided to agree to the offer you made to Varrow about the location of the Pure Bloods hideout. Can you handle that portion of this?¡±

    ¡°To your satisfaction?¡± I questioned back. ¡°I¡¯m not going to break into this place and find you and Dawes in the front room, sipping tea and criticizing my techniques for breaking in, am I?¡±

    ¡°You won¡¯t find me there,¡± Dawes said. ¡°I have a date tonight I intend to keep, so I¡¯ll be gone.¡±

    ¡°I have a similar engagement,¡± Voltar said. ¡°Not necessarily romantic, but definitely personal.¡±

    ¡°Ah. So while I¡¯m out sneaking around the used-to-be headquarters of a gang so racist they think even other humans are inferior, you two will be enjoying personal time?¡±

    ¡°That about sums it up, yes.¡±

    ***

    I should have known the dry spell wouldn¡¯t last.

    Standing just barely under an overhang, yet another of the hundreds of pedestrians trying to escape the torrent currently trying to swallow the road I¡¯d need to travel, I pondered something. Would it be more proper to pray to Veoria, goddess of the wind and the rain, for a blessing to get past it, or curse her name for sending us this storm.

    Then again, best not to draw her attention. It¡¯s not like storms were uncommon and the less likely I was to attract an errant lightning bolt of divine retribution. Here was to hoping Veoria couldn¡¯t detect errant blasphemous thoughts from down below.

    As an Infernal, I was enjoying the privilege of my kind. That privilege was that when a storm was going on, and there was limited space, you were guaranteed to be stuck on the outskirts or even in the rain itself.

    It wasn¡¯t too bad. There were few enough people under this storefront that I was mostly protected. The only rain falling on me was from the whipping force of the rain.

    Which meant rain drenched every inch of exposed skin and even my coat was being soaked through as the chill wind blew past.

    I was only stuck here till enough time had passed so my leaving wouldn¡¯t be suspicious, so just a few minutes more. As unpopular as the Purebloods came across to me, this was their turf, so someone would inform or be keeping track, especially of Infernals as of late, and a drawn-up hood could only do so much to protect one¡¯s identity.

    A couple more minutes til I could step out into the water, currently threatening to reach above the storefront and swallow everyone¡¯s shoes. I should have brought an umbrella.

    Then again, as an errant umbrella swooped by in the wind at the speed of a pigeon, perhaps not.

    I didn¡¯t need to fake the groan of frustration and dismay before I leaped out onto the street, splashing through the half-foot of water. Wind and rain whipped at me, the cold working its way through my coat into flesh and bone.

    If it¡¯s this rainy tomorrow, I am dragging Voltar out into this.

    I could only see a few feet ahead of me, relying mostly on the buildings on the side of the street for an idea of where I was. That ran out once I got to the docks, the riverside piers, warehouses, other buildings and even the moored ships not looking distinct enough to make out.

    It took nearly two hours to find the fish shop, marked by the sign of two crossed swordfish.

    Varrow said it would be a moored ship near the fish shop. There can¡¯t be too many of them around.

    There weren¡¯t too many. There was, in fact, only one. I knew because I checked five times, in desperate hope a ship would appear between the raindrops.

    Sighing, I turned to my target. It clearly hadn¡¯t been used for its intended purpose for months and instead had been converted into some kind of floating apartment building from the looks of it, but I would never be excited about trying to sneak on board a garbage scow.

 Chapter 45 -Meeting on a Scow

    I eyed the garbage scow as best I could.

    The pouring rain didn¡¯t help with that, nor did having to stay collapsed onto the dock¡¯s surface, thanks to the drenched Pure Blood standing guard outside it. The man¡¯s weathered and battered top hat provided no protection from the onslaught, but he was keeping a steady gaze on my seemingly prone form.

    It was fine. In a few minutes, I¡¯d rise from my ¡°drunken¡± stupor and stumble back to the safety of solid ground. I just needed to get the lay of the land first.

    The scow was one of those giant ones they¡¯d built a couple of decades past, converted from a shallow draft river barge for bulk trading. Probably eighty feet long from end to end, and it must have some kind of metal plating on the bottom.

    Otherwise, the Nover would have eaten through it.

    They¡¯d built housing on it, two different ones with a half-dozen feet in between them. Ramshackle buildings that had been built up over time but still looked like they¡¯d fall over the moment the scow left the docks. Going out onto the Nover would probably be a last resort if it came under attack.

    A shallow draft meant there couldn¡¯t be too many people on-board, not unless they packed them in like sardines. Definitely a more suitable headquarters for when the Purebloods were just another street gang. Only one gangplank connected it to the pier, that and a half-dozen mooring lines.

    Of course, clearing the distance to the scow from the pier wasn¡¯t an issue. The agitated Nover¡¯s current was pushing it against the pier, which was slightly tilting under the weight. I kept a grip on the planks as I pretended to be passed out drunk as they tilted ever so slightly.

    The issue was getting on board without getting noticed. A little harder to do. But I¡¯d seen enough. It was time to leave and prepare to make my way onto the scow.

    The lone guard would be suspicious of a random Infernal who fell onto the pier and lay there for a good ten minutes before suddenly darting off. So I headed six piers upstream from theirs and waited. I¡¯d begin my infiltration in an hour, for now just huddled between two buildings while the rain continued.

    I looked at where the scow was tied to the docks, barely visible in the downpour. I could tell something was there, but any other details were obscured by the rain. It gave a general direction to aim for, as I walked onto a different pier.

    No one was on this one, the few boats and ships tied up here buttoned up. Good.

    There was one good way to infiltrate the boat. I¡¯d bet on their security on the side facing away from the pier being less than stringent than that on the pier itself. After all, trying to sneak on board the ship from that side would either mean a boat or swimming the Nover.

    There was flying as well, but I doubted the Pure Bloods ever thought themselves big enough fish to need to worry about that. A boat would easily be spottable, and they probably figured anyone swimming the Nover would probably expire halfway to the scow.

    They were probably right. I¡¯d only looked into the Astral once around the Nover and never again after. When you dumped this much garbage and crap into a river, the spirits inside reflected that. And those were the benign ones, the ones who didn¡¯t harbor feelings of revenge over their treatment.

    Those latter ones were supposedly kept out of the river after they¡¯d begun attacking river traffic. Patrolling the river to keep spirits under tread was somehow considered the cheaper option compared to handling the pollution.

    That left walking the water.

    I hadn¡¯t brought much with me. A revolver borrowed from Voltar and Dawes, a saber, some knives, a few other tools and tricks, and a couple of alchemical solutions I¡¯d brewed in the short time I¡¯d been given.

    Another reason to dislike Voltar, giving me so little time to prepare for these. Alchemy and Biosculpting took time, and shortening that pushed me more and more to rely on my other talents. Was that the aim? To test how much I¡¯d rely on Diabolism if repeatedly pushed into a corner?

    Hells, he wanted to make me his apprentice as well. That was a particularly horrifying prospect.

    The one key alchemical substance I made would allow me to get onboard this ship if the Nover was cooperative. Looking at the river as it flowed by, that was doubtful. Currently, it hissed as the rainstorm exposed it to actual water for the first time in a while.

    There were potions for walking on water. You simply drank them and found that your body was repellent to water for the next hour or so. The more complex ones even projected the field a little beyond your skin so your clothes would also be protected.

    What they didn¡¯t do was give you the familiar sensation of walking on land. Trying to keep your balance on a liquid being actively repelled by your feet as you move was a learning experience.

    I¡¯d learned how to do it, as had everyone in the Black Flame. As disposable as Versalicci may consider you, even he didn¡¯t want you to end up submerged in the Nover. If you were going to die, it would be for a purpose.

    Of course, potions for water-walking were relatively expensive and time-consuming to make.

    In the name of efficiency and definitely not cheapness, I had not made one of those. I pulled out a small tin from my pocket, opened it, and looked down at the dark blue paste inside.

    This would act similarly, only specifically on whatever surfaces I smeared it on. I had about enough for the bottoms of my hooves.

    I looked at the Nover, swollen, fat, and probably carrying enough pollutants to strip me to the bone before I reached the bottom of it.

    Perhaps the torrential rain would dilute the Nover to a livable degree?

    It wasn¡¯t that bad. After all, some studies I read suggested regular exposure only took a single decade off of your expected lifespan instead of two. Assuming you didn¡¯t catch any diseases from the Nover of course.

    Stop worrying, I told myself. People go swimming in the Nover. Admittedly, after a whole battery of protections laid on top of them, but they still swim in it without losing layers of skin.

    I rubbed the paste into my hooves, taking note I should groom these and maybe grind them down at some point. Even with all the walking I¡¯d done lately, they were getting a mite too large.

    Finishing that up, I eyed the roiling water uncertainly. Had a dam burst upstream? Even raining, the Nover was not normally this wild. Hopefully, it would mean those on the ship wouldn¡¯t be paying attention to the water.

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    It would also make this more difficult. The one good thing about the Nover being this swollen, what would be a ten-foot drop was now three.

    I stepped off the edge and fell.

    My hooves hit the water¡¯s surface, and I stumbled as the moving surface tried its best to tip me into the drink.

    It was a tough walk, lashed by wind and rain and with the surface of the water moving underneath, but somehow I made it to just one pier away from the one the scow was moored to.

    That was also not as restful as it should have been, holding onto a wooden leg of the pier as the flow of the Nover tried to push me further. Being under the pier meant being crouched over and bent in on myself to a ludicrous degree.

    After a half minute to catch my breath with the pier above sheltering me from the rain, I stepped out.

    The Nover chose that exact moment to swell, a half-foot wave surging underhoof as I stepped.

    My eyes burned, and I shut them, but I got a glimpse of inky darkness as I forced myself not to breathe. No flailing either; that would only unbalance me even further.

    Don¡¯t panic, I told myself.

    Yes, I was upside down in the Nover, only being kept near the surface by the water repellant on my hooves. And yes, there was in fact a slight burning sensation across me that was growing.

    I opened my eyes, only to immediately close them as they burned. I had seen little in the clouded murk of the Nover, but something large was closing. I tried to make for the surface, struggling against both my clothes and my hooves. Not before I breathed in a lungful of that shite sewer water first before I burst out of the surface.

    Lungs burning, I managed it just before my head rammed into the scow. I grasped the edge of the scow, pulling myself up as coughs racked through my body.

    I hacked up water onto the deck, coughing as I moved to the nearest wall. Attempting to keep it quiet didn¡¯t mix well with an overwhelming urge to force it out. I hacked and sputtered for a few seconds, forcing as much of it out as I could till I could finally breathe.

    My lungs still felt like they¡¯d been kicked, and it didn¡¯t feel like I¡¯d gotten it all out. I was going to need to spend a lot on inoculating myself on whatever that little dip in the Nover had infected me with. Maybe I could consider exorcising my lungs? It only had a high probability of killing me?

    I slumped against the side of the wall, not trusting myself to stand up. Not just because I felt like it, but because the soaked deck would not interact well with my still water-repelling hooves.

    At least this ship didn¡¯t reek. Enough rain could scrub even a garbage scow of its stench.

    I scraped it off a few moments later, then considered how I wanted to do this. The rain still came down in sheets and the shivers were coming on, but I couldn¡¯t try sneaking inside. Looking over this side of the boat, there wasn¡¯t even an entrance on this side. Clambering onto the roof wasn¡¯t an option either, too much chance of someone overhearing me.

    There was a small hole in one of them, not even large enough to peer through, but large enough to hear through.

    Well, it was sit here and risk one of them walking out here in the thunderstorm, or go to one of the two structures and hope it was unoccupied. Not really a choice. Pulling my cloak up both to cover me from the rain and muffle the sound, I put my ear up against the hole just in time to catch the sound of a door opening and an angry sounding yell of protest.

    ¡°Harry, what the hell are you doing back inside? You¡¯re supposed to be standing watch!¡±

    ¡°Fuck off Jasper. It¡¯s fit to drown a fish out there, and the only thing I saw was some half-drowned foulhorn rat probably drunk out of their mind wandering up and down the docks.

    "They left, and it was another half hour of pure misery. You want the docks watched so bad? You go out there and try looking more than a few feet in front of your own nose.¡±

    The argument continued, although it didn¡¯t sound like it would escalate into violence as I settled down against the wall, chilled to the bone.

    The continuing rain would not help with that, but anywhere else ran too much risk of being caught. I would not let that ordeal I¡¯d just gone through be wasted.

    I had a few hours to think, waiting for the night to arrive. That would be the time to go on the prowl when the members here either went to sleep or went out to do a night¡¯s worth of dishonest work. Till then, I could just wait in my little nook, eavesdropping on the conversation going on below.

    Not that insightful. Gang members complained about having to stay on the scow while others went to the underground. They didn¡¯t mention any clues where it was, and from what it sounded like, none of those here were too high on the ladder. Either new recruits or old members who sounded too incompetent. The only one here who was up the totem pole was Jasper, and it sounded like he was just here to receive a message from a courier. Besides him there were twins who didn¡¯t sound old enough to drink, the lazy guard Harry, and a pair of older ones who went by Miller and Gawes.

    Just staying here sounded like the best course of action: wait here for the message to be delivered, then trail either the courier or Jasper and get the message from them, as well as someone to interrogate. Trailing would be a bit of an issue as the rain continued to fall.

    It finally lessened in intensity, to where I could see more than a dozen feet away from me, but still not enough for people to be out and about.

    Of course, staying here was miserable. I felt chilled, far too much to be comfortable, and my insides felt miserable. The rain and a dip in the Nover weren¡¯t doing me any favors. First thing I¡¯d do when I got back was find the largest, fluffiest set of blankets Voltar owned and make a nest out of them till I could actually feel my fingers again.

    What little light passed through the barrier of the clouds above was fading when the door opening jolted me out of my stupor.

    ¡°Where is Harris? I specified that what I had to say was for his ears only.¡±

    The voice was instantly recognizable to me. Why, I¡¯d heard it only yesterday myself. Lord Bartholemew Montague.

    ¡°Boss is still stuck trying to secure the underground,¡± Jasper replied, voice reverent. ¡°Apologies, your lordship, but it¡¯s been difficult keeping the patrols up like you wanted. Not only are the Delver¡¯s guilds still a problem, but those foulhorns are fucking up our boys every chance they get, apologizing for my language, your lordship.¡±

    ¡°Apology accepted. No, that makes sense. I¡¯d go see him myself, but leaving the estate is becoming more difficult.¡±

    My eyes narrowed. No. Even if Lord Montague were in on this, there would be no condition in which he entered a group of Pure Blood¡¯s hideout with none of his guards. Already coming here was risking it, but without any guards at all?

    No, I¡¯d wager this was a shape-changer. Which meant trailing him would be too much of a risk. Too easy to lose in a crowd and too difficult to keep under control.

    ¡°Things are even worse than they were before,¡± Lord Montague ranted underneath me. ¡°Voltar came to my house today with another Foulhorn in tow. Another member of the Black Flame. Clearly, there is collusion going on between the two groups.¡±

    Point one against the imposter¡¯s disguise, not that the Pure Bloods would know it. Anyone with even an inkling of Versalicci and Voltar¡¯s matching of wits over the last decade would know that was impossible. A general agreement to stay out of each other¡¯s way, like what was occurring right now? Maybe. Outright collusion? Definitely not.

    ¡°On a further note, I have something I must share with you, closer to all of you.¡±

    There was silence below, and I waited¡ªone breath, two breaths¡ªbefore rolling to the side.

    Bullets ripped through the wall where I¡¯d waited, and half a dozen holes blasted through the ceiling.

    Damnations. How had he known I was here? Not that his ¡®come closer¡¯ act had been very good, except to tip me off.

    Summon the hellfire granted upon you and let us burn this barge to the ground! The Imp crowed in my mind.

    ¡°Shut up,¡± I muttered as I ran, rounding the corner and heading to the pier.

    Even if Dawes or Voltar weren¡¯t actually testing if I was reaching for Diabolism too easily under pressure, the truth is I was. Power was power, and its sirens¡¯ song of temptation sung easily when I was given a foe to strike.

    Ahead of me a door opened, and Harry rushed out with pistol and knife in hand.

    I pointed the revolver at him, grinning maliciously as I pulled back the hammer.

    Cursing, he turned around and rushed back inside, someone falling over as he likely rammed whoever was next in line to get out.

    I leaped onto the pier. There were other exits for them to take, and one of them would realize that my revolver was wet. It wasn¡¯t even the revolver that was the issue, but I knew how poorly sealed civilian rounds were.

    I ran down the pier, ignoring the yelling behind me. As long as I could avoid being shot, I¡¯d be fine. The storm was letting up, sure, but not enough to give them a clear shot.

    It was a simple escape until a figure came walking towards me from the city.

    ¡°Foul interloper!¡±

    Striding down the pier, Josiah Hawkens pointed his rapier at me.

    ¡°You will answer for your assault on my allies with your life!¡±

    I considered the shape-changer, then laughed in his face. Dropping the revolver, I drew saber and dagger.

    No diabolism? Fine.

 Chapter 46 - Limitations

    Behind me, the various Pure Blood members and the fake Lord Montague came out from the scow, assembling on the pier.

    I half-turned to face them, dagger pointed their way, the saber towards Hawkins. Most of the Pure Bloods had clubs or swords, but the guard from before had the muzzle of a rifle pointing out from under his coat, keeping the flash pan dry till he needed to shoot. There¡¯d probably be pistols as well. They halted about thirty feet away, blocking me from the scow.

    Maybe I should have risked the revolver after all.

    I had one advantage. Clearly, they were running a con on the Pure Bloods. Either of them shifting within view would shake the gang members, maybe even lead to them turning on the two.

    ¡°Do you have any words, rat?¡± Hawkins yelled at me, now striding towards me.

    His expression and demeanor were of boredom, confident that he had me trapped between himself and the Pure Bloods and other shape-changer by the scow.

    He was right. Even if I dove into the Nover, odds were he and his fellow could dive right in, change shape into something more aquatic underwater, and then kill me. It wouldn¡¯t be hard if they could comfortably swim, and I couldn¡¯t.

    ¡°You¡¯re looking in terrific shape after the warehouse,¡± I shouted to be heard over the rain. ¡°From a burning pile of flesh back to being healthy in a few days?¡±

    Hawkins¡¯ bored expression turned to a scowl as his eyes narrowed.

    ¡°Yep, it¡¯s me here to torment you again,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m shocked none of your group put it together yet. I¡¯ll be honest: the more I uncover, the more I¡¯m struck by a dichotomy. You¡¯ve clearly had success keeping your nature¡¯s secret in the past, but then there¡¯s this entire scheme. Poorly done. But enough about me. Let¡¯s get that flesh rotting again!¡±

    I charged at Hawkins, hand outstretched.

    He knew who I was and what I was capable of. He had two choices: either pretend to be human and risk the Diabolism, or change shape here and give away the game.

    You provoke him without wanting to use it? Fool.

    Hawkins lunged to the side, arms bursting from his sides and ripping his coats to shreds. His existing arms shifted, bone sprouting from both and forming into blades that slashed at me.

    My saber dug into his leg, aiming to slow even a little. I tried to halt my momentum because I¡¯d miscalculated. He hadn¡¯t shifted this fast at the warehouse!

    He howled as my saber cut into the side of his knee, but only went in an inch. It felt like trying to slice through hardwood.

    I kicked him in the side while deflecting a bone saber with my metal one.

    It felt like kicking metal, and I pulled back as Hawkins stood up, the wound on his leg reforming. Damnations, I¡¯d hoped he¡¯d take a dip in the Nover. I parried another blow, then sliced at his leg, scoring another cut.

    Behind me, I could hear screaming and discharging firearms. Well, it sounded like the fake Lord Montague had made their decision fast. That or he¡¯d been unable to answer their questions convincingly.

    I fell back from Hawkins as his leg wound closed, sparing a glance behind me.

    Not-Lord Montague was carving his way through the guard from before, his own bone-blades extending from his sleeves. One of the Pure Bloods lay bleeding out on the pier below, while another was chopping into the shape-changers side with a knife to little effect.

    They¡¯d worked him over as well, easily a half-dozen holes across the shape-changer¡¯s body and a severed leg flopping about on the ground as well. Three Pure Bloods had made it to the scow, barricading themselves inside.

    His wounds were already re-knitting. I¡¯d miscalculated badly. Why had Hawkins not shown abilities like this at the warehouse?

    I turned back to Hawkins just in time to catch another strike with the bone blade, my hand shaking from the force of the impact. In just the short time I¡¯d looked away, he¡¯d grown half a foot in height and more in breadth.

    Two more arms were sprouting from underneath his current ones, only nubs, but swiftly lengthening.

    ¡°You challenge me, malcontent?¡± He yelled, raising his other two bone blades overhead. Bone grew from the one locked with my blade, flowing around it and trapping it.

    Both blades came down. I let go of my saber, backing away. Bone carved into my shoulder, cutting deep. The second changed direction, slicing into my thigh till bone scraped bone.

    I screamed just a second before a fist rammed into my face, knocking me off my feet. I tried to move my knife into a position only for another blow to shear it from my grasp. I stared dully at a hand stripped of fingers.

    Okay. No Diabolism meant dying to this thing. If I had alchemicals, or even the revolver, maybe, but neither meant I only had one trick.

    ¡°Foolish Infernal. Your bluff has served you not, although I demand how you know of my fight with another of your kind that gave you the idea of faking diabolism?¡±

    I was going to end up in the hells for this. Well, I already was destined for there anyway.

    ¡°Who said anything about faking?¡± I said, injured hand grabbing my focus. ¡°Burn.¡±

    Fire erupted from my hand, a black burning ball of flames that flew at Hawkin¡¯s face. His clothes caught alight, and his flesh sizzled as the hellfire ate at him.

    He stumbled backward, screeching as his hands tore at his burning face, trying to rip the burning flesh free. All he succeeded in doing was setting his own limbs alight, even the bone sabers burning.

    Underneath my hooves, the pier¡¯s wood warped, reforming into a set of maws across its surface, wooden teeth chewing at the burning Hawkins. They almost chewed at me, but I limped away, my thigh burning with each painful step.

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    The transfiguration wasn¡¯t stopping either, creeping towards me and heading the other direction.

    That¡¯ll probably stop at the edges, I told myself as I hobbled away. Hopefully.

    Not-Lord Montague was finishing carving up the guard, their form changing differently from Hawkins. Bone blades were pulling in, the rest of their body bulking up larger and larger. Much further and they¡¯d resemble that poor fool the actual Lord Montague had turned into an ogre with Biosculpting.

    The other Pure Bloods were on the scow, a couple of them firing firearms at him and heading inside the shacks they¡¯d built on it. They had the right idea. Time to abandon ship.

    I limped that way, trying to keep an eye on Hawkins. He screamed as oily black smoke billowed off of him, flesh melting to expose bones before regrowing. Bone blades lashed out, tearing through the demonic wood of the pier, but it matched him in tenacity.

    One of the Pure Bloods emerged from the scow, a coach gun in hands. Both barrels fired, blowing chunks from the Shape-changer¡¯s flesh. Not-Lord Montague howled, only for the dying guard to bury a knife into a joint.

    It gave me the opening I needed to get onto the scow and through the door.

    ¡°You!¡± A Pure Blood yelled, straightening up from a chest he had been rummaging through. ¡°You foulhorn bint! The hell do you think you¡¯re doing?¡±

    ¡°You really want to argue this now?¡± I responded. Behind me, the Pure Blood with the coach gun slammed the door shut just in time.

    The ship shuddered, almost sending me off my hooves as the side of the shack bent inwards, wood cracking and splintering. The floor tilted underneath us, and I hurried over to the far wall.

    Definitely could increase their mass then. That was a problem.

    ¡°You warped his lordship with diabolism into that thing!¡± The Pure Blood continued even as his fellows got new muskets and coach guns.

    They were aimed at me first till the wall splintered further and they reconsidered who should be their first target.

    ¡°The Shape-changer changed form before I even used any,¡± I retorted. ¡°And do you really want to waste time on this?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s got a point, Jasper,¡± a grey-haired Pure Blood said.

    Outside, the shape-changer roared in anger, and suddenly, the scow lurched again. A meaty paw burst through the wall, grasping and finding a Pure Blood. The man screamed as the paw closed, bones crunching underneath its grasp as it pulled him out.

    Most of the wall ripped away with him, revealing the Shape-changer¡¯s new form.

    The shape-changer resembled a giant, bipedal toad, thick arms of scaly muscle having pulled the Pureblood into a pointy-toothed jaw that was chewing the shrieking human.

    It wasn¡¯t the only maw eating. The change in the pier had reached here. Transformed wood latched onto the shape-changer, chewing through thick blubbery flesh even as his flailing sent splinters flying every which way.

    Not-Lord Montague roared as the animated wood continued to stab and gnaw at him. Tendrils formed out of wood corkscrewed into his eyes and joints.

    ¡°Tell the pier to kill it!¡± Jasper yelled at me.

    ¡°I can¡¯t control it,¡± I said. ¡°I didn¡¯t make it. It¡¯s the Diabolism possessing the wood. I¡¯d say we should get unmoored before it notices we¡¯re here and decide we¡¯ll make a good meal.¡±

    I saw something move in the corner of my eye.

    Hawkins had broken free, bone blades cutting through the wood even as the hellfire still burned, leaving his upper half a burnt parody of flesh. Still, he was preparing to jump and probably would make it over here.

    I was about to point it out when the Grey-hair noticed, screaming at Jasper as he discharged both barrels into it.

    I went to the far side of the ship. Things had gone to the hells. Time to leave.

    The scow lurched with the arrival of Hawkins, followed by more screaming and gunfire. I pulled out the tin from before, grabbing what remained of the paste. Hooves, calves, thighs, head, hand, forearms, even my tail. I hurriedly smudged as much of it as I could on as much of me as I could.

    The scow groaned underneath me, wood crackled, and as the hull snapped, I jumped off the ship.

    It was easier navigating the Nover when nearly all of me repelled its waters, and I scurried away as fast as I could, eventually making it to the next pier over and hiding underneath to watch the rest of the fight.

    More strips of fabric torn from my shirt, more wrapping them around limbs. My thigh burned even more but I needed to get it closed. Same for the cut in my shoulder, and my ruined hand. I chugged my one emergency vial I''d had time to prepare. It would close the blood vessels and seal them off till I could get these wounds properly healed.

    It did nothing for the fact that without the improvised bandage a chunk of my thigh would be swinging like a slab of meat off the bone. I tightened the binding, ignoring the flashes of pain and dots that appeared in my vision as I tied it off.

    Only having one hand made it slower, my lack of fingers consigning the other one to be a weight. What had I been thinking? Even if I hadn''t suspected their powers, trying to fight them just as a normal person? Foolishness.

    The pier¡¯s transformation had stopped before affecting the docks as a whole, thankfully. Another reminder why I shouldn¡¯t be using it because if it hadn¡¯t stopped¡­.that would not have gone well. People stuck inside their homes, devoured by their furniture and walls? Not a pleasant thought. There¡¯s no safe way to use Diabolism.

    A reminder that just tossing Diabolism around was equally foolish. What would be the cost next time I set something alight?

    I watched as the scow sunk, and the enormous forms of both Hawkins and Not-Lord Montague grew wings and took flight, Hawkins still trailing fire and smoke. One figure floundered behind them in the Nover, and I strode forward, picking him up with my only good hand and dragging him through the water to some stone steps.

    With effort, I pulled Jasper to the top of them. By the end of it, my thigh felt like it was about to strip itself off my bone in protest, and my shoulder felt like it would fall off. Both were soaked with blood. Either I''d bled more than I initially noticed, or I''d reopened veins carrying this one up here.

    He flailed about, hands reaching for a weapon. ¡°You Foulhorn bi-¡°

    His next word got cut off as I put the edge of a knife against his throat.

    ¡°Let¡¯s not spout any unpleasantness, Jasper,¡± I told him. ¡°You and I are to be friends, if only because your employers are probably going to be valuing you a lot less than I will.¡±

    ¡°I doubt it,¡± a voice said behind me. ¡°Lay down your weapon! You are both under arrest.¡±

    To my confusion, a dozen members of the Watch stood behind us. Yes, it was still raining and storming, but I hadn¡¯t heard a thing or seen a hint. They must have been waiting. Following me, the Purebloods, or the shape-changers?

    Amna and Tommy were among the assembled members, so not an ordinary unit of the Watch.

    The one who¡¯d spoken was a middle-aged orc, filed tusks mixed with greying mutton chops. He had two bars sewn onto the shoulders of his greatcoat.

    Captain Malstein, presumably. Not that I would know that since Katheryn Falara was the one who got that name out of Amna and Tommy, who I also shouldn¡¯t know.

    I tossed my knife on the ground. ¡°I work with Mister Voltar.¡±

    Oh, his expression changed at that name. And not in a good way. But still, it needed to be said. Now, my disappearing would have consequences. Maybe I could even get preferential treatment?

    ¡°Of course he is,¡± Malstein said. ¡°Well, at least I have a name to blame for letting a diabolist get out of hand. Did you intend to turn that pier into a hazard for anything that steps on it?¡±

    ¡°Could have been anyone that did that,¡± I said defiantly. ¡°Just because I¡¯m an Infernal, it doesn¡¯t mean-¡°

    ¡°The Foulhorn did all of it, Captain!¡± Jasper shrieks next to me. ¡°She used diabolism and summoned a pair of shapeshifting monsters to attack a noble of the realm! I saw it all!¡±

    Kill them now, before they end you first, Malvia.

    This is what saving people got me. The number of muskets leveled at me only added to my awareness that a single misstep or sudden movement could and would end with my brains splattered across the ground.

    ¡°Yes, I am a diabolist,¡± I admitted. ¡°Yes, the pier is my fault. No, I did not summon any creatures, and in fact was trying to get rid of them to the best of my ability. This one-¡±

    ¡°We can handle questioning at the Coffin,¡± Malstein said, gesturing towards Amna, who produced a pair of handcuffs, familiar runes engraved on the surface. ¡°Is that going to be an issue?¡±

    I sighed. ¡°No. No, it won¡¯t.¡±

    I put my hands forward, and Malstein glanced down at the back of my hand.

    ¡°Black Flame?¡±

    ¡°Former Black Flame,¡± I replied sharply. ¡°Five years and hopefully till I¡¯m consigned to the Hells.¡±

    ¡°An interesting tale, I¡¯m sure. Another thing you can tell us in the Coffin.¡±

    Who knew? Perhaps this stay would be as pleasant as the last. As long as they didn¡¯t cut my fingers off.

 Chapter 47 -Unwanted Helpers

    I was back in a Watch holding cell for the second time this week. At least I still had my fingers, which made this my second-ever visit to the Watch where I¡¯d retained my digits. For now.

    They¡¯d even healed my wounds, which was very disconcerting. Sure, they¡¯d need me alive to interrogate. But diseases? They didn¡¯t need to do that.

    Had it been the Watch who¡¯d abducted me?

    Pondering that was a welcome distraction from the ranting of the person in the next cell over, who was making me miss Tommy.

    ¡°-When I get out of here, I¡¯m slicing your horns off and using them to mutilate you in ways that¡¯ll make your parents hurl!¡±

    Jasper of the Pure Bloods had ranted about all the horrible things he would do to me the moment we¡¯d been tossed into adjoining cells. Since no Watch officer had stayed behind to watch us after ensuring they¡¯d sealed my diabolism, no one was here to tell him to shut up.

    ¡°Yes, keep telling the Diabolist how you intend to gruesomely torture her when the both of you are out of prison,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m sure that will end well for you. Tell me, Jasper, have you ever had your extremities rotted off before?¡±

    Finally, blissful silence as he chewed on that for a few moments.

    ¡°What are extremities? My fingers?¡±

    ¡°Yes, although in this particular case, I meant what is between your legs. I presume. It wouldn¡¯t shock me if you pro-human extremists embraced eunuchism. The rest of your beliefs are extreme enough.¡±

    That set him off again.

    I sighed and leaned back. I had cuffs around my hands and leg irons around my hooves, inscribed with magic-suppressing runes, as was the metal belt they¡¯d strapped around my waist. At least they¡¯d left my mouth open. They would have sewn it shut in the past. Trying to butter me up, perhaps?

    The sound of the door opening interrupted Jasper¡¯s tirade and drew my attention, but from the sounds of a cell door opening and Jasper¡¯s rant turning into a buttery appeal to the Watch officers, he was getting dragged to interrogation first.

    I laid down and tried to get some sleep on the thin mattress they¡¯d given me. Better than worrying about anything that may happen next.

    There were no windows, so it might already be night. Time had a way of creeping past you with no way to see the sun or moon, and no clock in sight.

    I drifted off till the sound of metal scraping woke me up. Amna and Tommy, along with three other watch officers. Was it just a coincidence these two had been sent to collect me, or did they know I was also Katheryn Falara?

    What a complicated life to keep track of that.

    ¡°Up and at ¡®em, prisoner,¡± Amna said. ¡°Captain Malstein wants a word with you.¡±

    ***

    Captain Malstein¡¯s office was a barebone, utilitarian affair. A single barred window let light in, illuminating the only desk and the pair of chairs that decorated the room. I hoped for his sake he didn¡¯t live in here, but the single cot off to the side was a bad sign for that.

    ¡°Sit down,¡± the orc said, gesturing towards the chair across the desk from him. The desk itself was covered in papers and letters, but all of them were neatly sorted.

    I moved on over, Amna and Tommy flanking me as I settled into the chair. They left soon after, leaving me alone with Malstein.

    ¡°I just got done interrogating the man you fished out of the Nover, and he had a very interesting story to tell. I¡¯m interested in how much your account matches up with his.¡±

    What to say first? Starting this off by provoking the Watch officer was unlikely to end well.

    ¡°Well, it depends on where we want to start from. My involvement in the business on the docks or my involvement with Voltar? Or this business as a whole?¡±

    Or I could shoot my mouth off instead. I¡¯d gotten too used to not watching my words.

    ¡°Apologies about that. I¡¯m a little disconcerted by my treatment.¡±

    Malstein raised an eyebrow. ¡°You have a complaint about it?¡±

    ¡°The opposite. You¡¯ve surpassed my expectations,¡± I said. ¡°I get to step foot inside the coffin and keep my tongue and all ten of my fingers? Your hospitality has grown exponentially.¡±

    Malstein grimaced. ¡°Ah, right. Colonel Colgraves. He¡¯s¡­.not as unrestrained as he might have been a few years ago.¡±

    ¡°A fact I¡¯m sure is celebrated by prisoners everywhere,¡± I replied.

    Malstein grunted. He didn¡¯t seem too inclined to humor. Or maybe he just didn¡¯t like jokes about the Watch¡¯s premier interrogator and prison warden.

    ¡°I¡¯m shocked you have all of yours intact, if you¡¯ve been here before.¡±

    ¡°Multiple times,¡± I confirmed. ¡°It takes time to learn, but I can attest that maneuvering a lock pick with your teeth is a very handy skill to pick up.¡±

    A bald-faced lie. The only ways I¡¯d made it out of the Coffin had always been with outside help.

    ¡°What got old Crippler Colgraves forced to put the torture kit away?¡± I asked.

    Malstein considered me for a few seconds, then answered. ¡°It turned out a thief robbing from the noble estates was the heir of one of the robbed families, cosplaying as some kind of gentleman thief. When he told the colonel that, the colonel didn¡¯t believe him, and it required a very expensive operation to make sure he could perform his duties as heir again.¡±

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Ah,¡± I said mildly. Of course, harming a noble would be the only thing to convince them to lessen how much the Crippler and his disciples did to the Watch¡¯s prisoners.

    ¡°Colonel Colgraves no longer has sole authority over interrogations,¡± Malstein continued. ¡°I imagine as a member of the Black Flame you encountered him?¡±

    ¡°Every time I ended up in here,¡± I answered. ¡°He once tried skinning my hand to see if he could strip the tattoo off. He hit bone and still couldn¡¯t remove it.¡±

    Malstein grimaced at that and changed the subject.

    ¡°Speaking of that, do you mind?¡± he asked, pointing at my hand. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen one in person.¡±

    ¡°Not a problem,¡± I said, setting my hand on the table with the Black Flame tattoo facing up. ¡°Although I¡¯m surprised. It¡¯s not like the Quarter lacks of the Black Flame, if you know where to look.¡±

    ¡°And yet they always seem to be missing when I visit,¡± he mused, looking down at the tattoo. ¡°There¡¯s magic in this, but only signaling and tracking magic. And you¡¯ve disabled the latter. I thought there¡¯d be more in return for the cost of having all the members of the gang easily identifiable?¡±

    Captain Malstein had gotten both of the spells emblazoned inside the tattoo. Definitely not guesses on his part, he could ferret it out somehow, especially if he saw my tinkering with the tracking magic.

    ¡°You might not be approaching it from the right perspective,¡± I said. ¡°For Versalicci, the usefulness is a few things. First, whether good or ill, people know when his people do something. Second, he gets to keep track of where of all his little minions are at any time he wants. That reason probably trumps any other.¡±

    ¡°He doesn¡¯t trust any of you?¡± Malstein asked.

    ¡°You don¡¯t trust me either,¡± I said. ¡°But that¡¯s to be expected. Groups¡­.once you get outside of what you consider your group, trust comes a lot harder than for those inside. Black Flame, most members, I¡¯d say, generally trust each other to a greater extent than they do strangers. Versalicci trusts people inside the Black Flame more than he does those outside it. But it¡¯s a brittle trust that breaks easily, and mostly forged out of making sure they only think what he tells them.¡±

    ¡°Not exactly breaking new ground with that,¡± Malstein told me. ¡°Bit of philosophy swell your head a little?¡±

    ¡°It needs to be deflated now and then,¡± I replied. ¡°I¡¯ve done it a few times in the past few days with the beatings I¡¯ve been getting. But the tattoo is ultimately about control. There are members without the tattoo, although of course only Versalicci knows. This means there could be a second Black Flame whose numbers match or surpass the tattooed members. Or none, and it¡¯s all a bluff.¡±

    Malstein nodded.

    ¡°As interesting as this is, I think we are drifting off track. You asked where I wanted you to start from? Let me explain where this started from for me. This started with being asked by a rather important family to look into a recently deceased member of theirs being robbed in their grave.¡±

    I blinked. Grave-robbing?

    ¡°Oh Hells, you got involved in this because of the Drake?¡±

    ¡°Initially. Imagine my surprise when my investigation into Katheryn Falara ended up involving the Black Flame and poisoned nobles. And now apparently Shape-changers.¡±

    ¡°This feels like a thirty-carriage pile-up on an intersection,¡± I said. ¡°It feels like half of everyone involved in this got here by random chance.¡±

    ¡°I know you¡¯re Katheryn Falara as well,¡± he said, while tapping the letter on his desk. ¡°Go ahead and read it.¡±

    I grabbed it and started. Addressed to him, from Imperial Intelligence, and it didn¡¯t take long to tell it was about my identity and association with Voltar. And my history.

    ¡°So, in less than a week, you¡¯ve caused two major diabolic incidents. Three if we count the warehouse, which at least wasn¡¯t in front of witnesses, or ended up leaking that much into this world.¡± Malstein leaned back in his chair, considering me like one would a rat that they couldn¡¯t tell was going to bite or not. ¡°Imperial Intelligence has diabolists, but they usually understand the meaning of restraint. Do you?¡±

    I grimaced. He had a definite point. I¡¯d gone five years keeping myself from using Diabolism, and then the moment I started using it again.

    ¡°Let me have a few weeks where I¡¯m not being ambushed by forces beyond my power, and I¡¯ll answer you. Truth be told¡­¡±

    My continuing answer died in my throat as I continued reading. There was more in this letter than I expected. My relation to the Xangs. The details of my time in the Black Flame. The damn imp lodged in my body.

    ¡°They don¡¯t understand the meaning of privacy, do they?¡± I muttered as I put the letter back down.

    ¡°They aren¡¯t called Imperial Intelligence for nothing,¡± Malstein replied. ¡°Normally, I¡¯d be upset over having one of my investigations interfered with, but in the spirit of cooperation, I think a little inter-departmental collaboration might benefit everyone involved.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t even know what my position in all of this is,¡± I confessed. ¡°Just a vague sense that if I crossed the wrong line, I¡¯d be on the wrong side of whoever Dawes worked for. Do you?¡±

    His smile grew even larger, which only made me more wary.

    ¡°No, and the letter doesn¡¯t make that clear. If I had to wager a guess, you¡¯re in one of those grey areas that Intelligence loves to operate in. Which happens to be to my benefit.¡±

    ¡°Ominous,¡± I said. ¡°Am I to spy on Voltar for you?¡±

    ¡°Not quite. I have no squabble with the good detective, unlike many of my superiors. Who are currently working to get me as far away from this as possible?¡±

    ¡°Politics? Or do you think maybe the changers going after the nobility are just their latest target after the Watch?¡±

    Malstein snorted derisively. ¡°It¡¯s politics. My superiors want the credit themselves or think that we should crack down on the Infernal Quarter, because you always find culprits in the Quarter. Things have been kept out of the public eye, but the incident at Lady Karsin¡¯s estate and the pier will put Diabolism in the minds of everyone in the city.¡±

    My mind was struck by a very unpleasant thought.

    ¡°Are you alright? You just looked like someone stabbed you in the gut.¡±

    ¡°Just having a very uncomfortable idea strike me. At the same time as there are massive marches being organized into the Quarter, shape-changers associated with a pro-Human gang have provoked incidents of Diabolism twice.¡±

    Malstein mused on that for a few seconds. ¡°Not likely to be relevant. I don¡¯t see that being a goal in all of this.¡±

    ¡°True.¡±

    ¡°How would we tell if they were shape-changers?¡±

    ¡°Pardon?¡± The sudden change in topic caught me off-guard.

    ¡°If my superiors were changers. How would you tell?¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t. Last I checked, Voltar and Dawes were planning to look into any histories of shape-changers they could find, and see if there¡¯s any known method. The best I have is if any of them have shown any sudden shifts in personality. The current theory is that they have a base personality they can¡¯t avoid expressing, even when disguised. One of them certainly seems inclined towards the flamboyant.¡±

    ¡°You have nothing else?¡± Malstein asked.

    I gave him an ashamed little smile. ¡°Captain, most of the last couple of days I¡¯ve been running around running errands for Voltar, then before that, trying to figure out what was going on.¡±

    ¡°Then let¡¯s start with that. And after that is done, we can discuss what I really want.¡±

    Not much of a choice for me. I went into the story starting from the beginning. I didn¡¯t editorialize too much. As much as I could around what the letter had already told him. That wasn¡¯t very much.

    ***

    It was late evening by the time I made it back to Voltar¡¯s house. I¡¯d had a watch carriage most of the way, dropped off only a street away before making my way to the tunnel.

    When I emerged, both were still up, looking rather pleased with themselves and sharing some cups of tea. Their evening engagements must have gone well.

    ¡°Miss Harrow!¡± Voltar greeted me, raising a cup in greeting.

    ¡°It¡¯s been a long time. We were just beginning to worry about you,¡± Dawes said.

    ¡°He was worried about you,¡± Voltar added. ¡°I had the utmost confidence in you. So what happened?¡±

    Oh, this was sure to go well.

    ¡°Well, firstly Captain Malstein of the Watch is now involved, or he arrests me for turning a pier into a demonically mutated monstrosity,¡± I said. ¡°The Shape-changers have been pretending to be Lord Montague to contact the Pure Bloods. I fought both of them, hence the demonically mutated pier. Oh, and we have a member of the Pure Bloods in custody who I think knows where their underground hideaway is. You¡¯ll need to talk to Captain Malstein first, though.¡±

    Voltar looked like I¡¯d just stabbed him in the gut. Dawes started laughing.

 Chapter 48 - An Acidic Proposal

    I spent the next two days in the house, to deal with making sure I truly had not picked up any diseases from my dip in the Nover and to work on making some potions. Definitely not because I¡¯d been confined to the house.

    I¡¯d decided not to test it. I wasn¡¯t some child to be scolded and confined to their room, and one day Voltar would regret treating me as such. Not today, since I had caused some offense. That and I didn¡¯t want to accidentally provoke whatever Imperial Intelligence officers might watch over me.

    Dawes¡¯ mirth had faded fast, and he¡¯d taken me aside afterward.

    ¡°It¡¯s understandable since it was life or death, but this is becoming a pattern,¡± he warned me. ¡°One that isn¡¯t pointing to anything good.¡±

    I hadn¡¯t had an answer for him, and I still didn¡¯t.

    Voltar had met with Malstein twice, the second time to interrogate Jasper, which led to the current conversation I was having with him in the lab I¡¯d set up in his attic.

    ¡°I still think leaving the basilisk and whatever else is down there for after this is a mistake,¡± I said as I finished powdering up some leaves in a mortar, the resulting powder gleaming at the bottom. ¡°With what¡¯s occurred up here, they could change locations, and we might never find them again.¡±

    Jasper had finally given up the location the Pure Bloods had been based out of underground after some convincing from Malstein and questioning from Voltar, neither of which I¡¯d been present for.

    ¡°We¡¯ve been over this,¡± Voltar replied, keeping a wary distance after I¡¯d told him the ventilation up here was still a work in progress. ¡°We¡¯ll want Delver involvement, and even if the information is accurate, it could still mean days of trekking through those tunnels. Your Pure Blood capture claims to have never seen a basilisk, or anything resembling an alchemy lab or a trapped celestial. It may just be an attempt to draw our attention away.¡±

    I nodded as I grabbed some glassware. I¡¯d found some decent gloves and a halfway decent mask, but I¡¯d need to find something for my eyes soon. Either that or I would make no volatile mixtures. Anything less than top-rate glass had a tendency to... explode under those heats.

    I¡¯d had enough of losing my eyes.

    ¡°It¡¯s still a more concrete location than we¡¯d get out of Delver Guild reports of where the Basilisk is roaming,¡± I said. ¡°Depending on how long a leash they¡¯ve given the Basilisk, we could search several cubic miles of tunnels trying to find their lab.¡±

    ¡°Then it¡¯s best to focus on finding additional sources of information, wouldn¡¯t you agree?¡±

    I sighed. Malstein apparently also didn¡¯t want to risk an assault on the Pure Blood base underground, and unless we had direct evidence of the Basilisk being there, the Delvers Guilds would be unlikely to help us. And Voltar had a point. I doubted the Pure Bloods were being trusted with the actual location of the lab making Angel''s Sorrow.

    "So, from the rest of the interrogation Jasper claims the Pure-bloods were contacted months ago by Lord Montague, and have been given money, materials, and this underground base?"

    "Pretty much," Voltar said. "It''s a neat little bit of manipulations. The Pure-Bloods consider themselves righteous citizens of the realm, outside the odd bit of smuggling and protection racketeering. They might be criminals, but they''re criminals who are willing to help keep this grand country of ours purified from the taint of foul blood and outside influence. In another life and time they might have aimed at being paladins."

    I gagged. "I''ve actually met a few paladins as part of the Delvers, and while some of them were judgmental, there''s a mile of distance between them and these thugs."

    "Yes, well don''t let reality keep a good delusion down," Voltar said. "The fake Lord Montague sold them on pardons for helping him and by extension Her Majesty''s Government with a little Infernal problem."

    "Joy, and they just believed him?"

    "Apparently the fake Lord Montague produced enough evidence to convince the boss of the gang of his veracity. What that is, Jasper is unaware of."

    ¡°Brilliant. Well, we''re back to maybe trapping one of them," I said, pouring the powder into a beaker. "That or some shape-changer flesh samples. We need to identify them, because I doubt they¡¯re going to keep Hawkins around all the time. After a while, you think they would tire of the theatrics.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve given some thought to that,¡± Voltar said, nearing the lab a little more. Not close enough to warn but if he wanted his sinuses to suffer, it was his risk to take. I¡¯d already put plugs into my own nose.

    ¡°Into how to identify them?¡± I asked as I grabbed a vial of an orange liquid and unstoppered it. Ten¡­nine¡­eight¡­

    ¡°No, but instead into the age of¡­.what on earth is that?¡±

    Voltar beat a swift retreat to the ladder, already halfway down. His eyes watering, he kept his head poking out above the floor.

    ¡°Core ingredient for the acid I¡¯m brewing. Milked out of a giant ant. The pincer, not any other part of it. I could have made something with more potency, but they tend towards the much pricier side, and anything less potent doesn¡¯t act fast enough.¡±

    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°And you are making it in my attic?¡±

    ¡°I know what I¡¯m doing,¡± I said defensively. ¡°I can¡¯t make it anywhere else. The ventilation lower in the house is even worse, and this should prove rather effective. Eats through flesh easily enough. You were saying about their age?¡±

    ¡°Theorizing that they get better able to handle fake identities as they grow, Hawkins might be a youth, using a very distinct personality as a-This can be a conversation for later.¡±

    Voltar¡¯s head disappeared past the floor. I hadn¡¯t even needed to uncap the poison ingredients to do it, either.

    ***

    By the time I¡¯d finished my brewing, Voltar had done some brewing of his own. Specifically tea, which we both enjoyed as I looked over the details of Lord Montague¡¯s party that had been sent over.

    ¡°Seventy guests,¡± I muttered, looking over the list again. ¡°I¡¯m surprised he has this much pull. Even if half of them are non-nobles.¡±

    Half of the guest list was nobles of a similar rank to Lord Montague, except a baron who¡¯d been his guardian years back. Most of them appeared to be of a similar age to his children, which was strange. Not wanting to put his own friends at risk? The rest were prominent families of the city, some stretching centuries back, including one family I did not want to encounter.

    ¡°I¡¯ll need some time with my Bio-sculpting tools later. Maybe the entire evening.¡± It was going to be a very delicate task for which I was using them.

    ¡°You will change your face for the ball?¡± Voltar asked me.

    ¡°Certainly,¡± I replied. ¡°Especially after I saw the guest list. Unless you want a scene the moment I get spotted by any of the four Xangs Lord Montague invited.¡±

    Aunt Diwei and her family, none of whom I¡¯d ever traded friendly words with that last year I¡¯d lived as a Xang. Not since then, although I¡¯d never met my cousins after that point.

    ¡°Seeing me there would have her demanding to know what I¡¯m doing,¡± I said. ¡°Especially given recent events.¡±

    It had not shocked me to learn that as soon as ¡®Katheryn Falara¡¯ had outed herself as a diabolist and Black Flame lieutenant that my family had tried to take sole custody of my mother.

    The Imperials had stopped them. Not out of any desire to do me a favor but because of the deal I¡¯d cut. Til they figured out what manner of curse my mother had been afflicted with, in Imperial custody she would remain.

    ¡°It is perhaps for the best,¡± Voltar agreed. ¡°We could do with as little chaos as possible. Especially since they will be expecting a trap.¡±

    I grimaced. He was, unfortunately, right, and this case was my fault.

    ¡°I must apologize,¡± I said. ¡°If it wasn¡¯t for me engaging them on the pier- ¡°

    ¡°You¡¯d be dead, and they would probably suspect the same thing,¡± Voltar interrupted me. ¡°While the results weren¡¯t good for us, they all can¡¯t be blamed on you.¡±

    The closest I would get to an apology for sending me out there on my own, not that I wanted one. It should have been something I could manage on my own, if not for the Shape-changers.

    I turned my attention and the topic back to the information provided.

    ¡°Not a lot of information here,¡± I said. ¡°Only the assurance he¡¯ll only use his regular staff and invitations for you, me, and Doctor Dawes. No others to be allowed, and no information on what security will be. He¡¯s playing this close to the chest.¡±

    ¡°As to be expected. Gregory has been of a little more help in getting information to me, but his father trusts him only slightly more than you or me.¡±

    I hummed as I looked over a floor plan of the manor we¡¯d been sent. By which I meant the first floor only, none of which had been labeled. Mind you, that would be the only floor where guests were allowed, but that didn¡¯t help us if the intruders infiltrated an upper floor.

    ¡°I can¡¯t blame him too much,¡± I muttered. ¡°Even if he did like us, with shape-changers running around, two people knowing a secret is one person too many. I imagine you won¡¯t be telling him about Malstein then?¡±

    Once Malstein had been brought in the loop, the Captain had agreed to keep as many Watchmen as he could muster to wait outside the party. Which was twenty total, his command in the Watch being smaller than what a Captain¡¯s should be. Not a good sign.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure his reaction would be not positive for anyone involved,¡± Voltar said. ¡°Let Lord Montague worry about the three of us and be blissfully ignorant of anyone else until it¡¯s needed. Meanwhile, for our entrances to the party?¡±

    ¡°He said my invitation could be as staff or guest, depending on our preference.¡±

    ¡°We could, of course, have you as a servant at the party,¡± Voltar said.

    ¡°Pass,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll stand out. Lord Montague doesn¡¯t have Infernal servants. Even at odds, people think I¡¯m security or report me as a thief who snuck in. Thinking on it, considering Lord Montague, they¡¯ll assume I¡¯m just a thief trying to sneak in.¡±

    ¡°I assume biosculpting yourself to appear human is out of the question?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Even if I was willing, we¡¯d be taking multiple days even to attempt it, and it would be¡­messy. I¡¯d resemble a wax statue set out in the sun afterward.¡±

    In truth, it wouldn¡¯t be that bad, but the less time I had to sculpt and then set, the more likely the body would return to its natural form, even in slight ways. The nubs of a tail and horns? Those could probably be hidden from all but a keen eye. Skin tinged lightly blue and feet partially reformed to hooves? Less so.

    And that was ignoring my legs trying to reverse the ways their knees bent. And those would be just the ones from trying to suppress my Infernal features.

    ¡°There was another suggestion that would work better then,¡± Voltar said. ¡°Having you as a guest.¡±

    ¡°Even less believable,¡± I said. ¡°Lord Montague choosing to invite an Infernal? Him having an Infernal servant would already be beyond what most who¡¯ve met the man would believe.¡±

    Voltar smiled. ¡°That has already been considered. Luckily, we have a member of his family who is known for being at odds with his father, who I¡¯ve already talked to.¡±

    ¡°Ah,¡± I said. ¡°Joy. Another reason to have a mask on.¡±

    ¡°Some personal animosity after your last visit together?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°I just don¡¯t want to be known as the girl picked up just to make his father mad about his choice of date. But the main concern is family, unless you want my aunt probably threatening me at swordpoint. Besides that, I don¡¯t have a dress, and my training in etiquette is non-existent.¡±

    ¡°You have a scheduled appointment with a dressmaker a couple of days before the party, which Gregory Montague will go with you to.¡±

    There was silence as I stared blankly at Voltar.

    ¡°You know part of my issue with you is when you just assume I¡¯ll make the decision you¡¯ve selected?¡± I said.

    ¡°I have servant¡¯s livery ready as well,¡± Voltar said evenly. ¡°And if you wish to observe from afar or above, we can have you fake an illness tomorrow within view of the windows and work on smuggling you out the day of.¡±

    I drummed my fingers on the table. Not much of a choice, since the entire point of securing invitations was so we could be on the inside when all hell broke loose. So in the end, I¡¯d be once again doing what had been set before me.

    ¡°What¡¯s the name and address of the dressmaker?¡±

 Chapter 49 - Preparation isnt Easy

    Five days left to prepare was less time than you¡¯d think. Alchemy occupied each of my mornings, working on an ever-growing arsenal to prepare for the party. Having to outfit a minimum of three people only added to the work. Not helping was that I wouldn¡¯t know till I went to this dress shop how much I could hide inside the dress. The latest fashion trends tended towards the voluminous, but trying to move in that much fabric might prove difficult.

    Something to worry about for when I went there with Gregory on the third day: for now I had other things to occupy my mind.

    ***

    Dawes had collected close to all information he could on shape-changers in the public stacks of the Avernorn library, an impressive three stacks of histories, adventuring accounts, and other books addressing shape-changers or what might be shape-changers in one way or another.

    There was just one problem.

    ¡°This is junk,¡± I said after getting halfway through a series of eyewitness accounts claiming to be of shape-changers. ¡°Most of these are misidentified animals, druids, and foreigners suspected of having foul magic powers because they were foreigners. The ones that aren¡¯t are so light on the details, they might as well not have been written. Arelt the Ashen spends more time on how many logs he can cleave his axe through in one swing than the entire time his blood brother got replaced by a shape-changer for five months. This cannot be all that¡¯s publicly available.¡±

    Dawes looked up from his own current book, an account of an adventuring group. He set it aside.

    ¡°I¡¯m not shocked that it is. Shape-changer appearances were already rare by the time Thierdeith invented the printing press. This leaves whatever had been recorded by scribes, which would have limited distribution.¡±

    ¡°Limited spread,¡± I muttered. ¡°And probably containing things others would not want to be made public.¡±

    By others, I meant royalty. Most old stories involving shape-changers typically involved some plot or another to infiltrate the ranks of royalty. Not the only thing they attempted, but potentially the only acts notorious enough to be recorded. And every one I read had the signs of being sanitized, probably to protect the reputation of someone long dead.

    ¡°I¡¯ve gotten too used to papers detailing the experiments, explaining exact details on biology,¡± I said. ¡°Too used to knowing whatever insignificant fact I wished to look up on how monsters and Infernals function. A little kindness for the Shape-changers.¡±

    Experimentation of the kind done on Infernals wouldn¡¯t have happened back then because the methods wouldn¡¯t have been established yet. Shape-changers might also be the only group that would have suffered experimentation on to that extent besides Infernals.

    The days after Her Profane Majesty¡¯s end had been joyous days for most, dark days for others. For the Infernals sacrificed, so the newly risen queen could understand how my race functioned for any future threats? Probably the darkest of them all.

    ¡°The accounts at least give us something to work with,¡± Voltar said. ¡°Even if it¡¯s not biological. Shape-changers have tried to infiltrate nobility before and have aimed for the upper rungs first. They don¡¯t infiltrate from the lower ranks up.¡±

    I frowned. ¡°Seems a bit of a recurring pattern, at least for those. Other accounts of shape-changers tend towards them, aiming for insular communities and slowly taking them over. The two most common stories are a sleepy village or hamlet they¡¯ve infiltrated being discovered, or like you said, upper nobility.¡±

    As sanitized as it was, information on the latter was always more common than the former.

    ¡°There¡¯s another pattern that emerges,¡± Voltar said. ¡°I¡¯ve been through quite a few adventuring accounts, and as prone as some are to exaggeration, you¡¯d think they¡¯d mention if the shape-shifting creatures they fought could turn into the monstrosities you fought on that pier. Yet they do not.¡±

    ¡°Similar to my accounts, although some of them have mentioned abilities similar to what Miss Harrow has described,¡± Dawes added. ¡°I think we might be dealing with two different races, perhaps unrelated? Potentially more, but it raises a possibility.¡±

    A possibility that wasn¡¯t hard to grasp. ¡°You think they¡¯re artificials.¡±

    Artificials would be the precursors to the creations Biosculptors made today, back when the art was less established. The most common mistakes from back then most principled sculptors would not make these days. Using ordinary people as a base template, or creating new races capable of breeding with each other. And finally, granting entities forced to obey your will sentience and intelligent thought beyond that of an animal.

    Doing any of those three today was supposed to net you a death sentence, at least after the empire-wide ban on slavery forty years ago. Much like my case, I wouldn¡¯t be shocked if Intelligence recruited some of those. A lot of things were more palatable than the Hangman¡¯s noose. Especially to those already lacking some morals.

    ¡°You think they were made for intended purposes and that the core concept is so universal it¡¯s been repeated across various Biosculptors, then?¡±

    The core concept is the basis for the creature¡¯s design, which tends toward a ¡®Big nasty monster.¡¯ The idea of all shape-changers being various attempts to create shape-changing minions was a bit of a long shot. I thought there would be at least one existing group that inspired everyone.

    ¡°Hopefully, it¡¯s not the case,¡± I remarked. ¡°Otherwise, anything we learn might be useless. Although it does point to a central driving intelligence. Joy. How about the non-public sources of information?¡±

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    ¡°The last message from Lord Montague made it clear unless he gets lucky, he won¡¯t find any information on shape-changers till after the Ball. Maybe not till weeks afterward.¡±

    ¡°That depends on how hard he¡¯s looking,¡± I muttered.

    ¡°His problems go away after his son recovers,¡± Voltar admitted. ¡°If we assume they are going after targets of opportunity. If he is being targeted specifically, failing once won¡¯t make them stop. They¡¯ll just shift to more directly targeting what they actually want.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t hard to imagine what that might be. ¡°The records.¡±

    ¡°Lord Montague doesn¡¯t possess much else that couldn¡¯t be gained from another family,¡± Voltar said.

    ¡°We do only have two poisonings, so non-unique possessions of the Montagues are still on the table,¡± Dawes said. ¡°It¡¯s actually interesting. Not a single other poisoning since this all came to light. Either the families of the other victims are keeping it even more under wraps than Lord Montague and Lady Karsin, or there have been none.¡±

    I frowned. ¡°It could be the recent attention caused them to halt their poisoning efforts. Or did they target these two families specifically? In which case, I wonder why Lady Karsin?¡±

    ¡°Her being targeted is a question,¡± Voltar admitted. ¡°For right now, I¡¯m operating on the theory she was a test run to make sure things would work: that the poison would work, that the cure would be available from you, that whoever was supposed to provide the information leading the victim¡¯s family members to you would not be seen suspiciously-¡±

    ¡°The other way around,¡± I said. ¡°I heard that a noble family was looking for an Angel¡¯s Sorrow cure. It wasn¡¯t anything suspicious, just rumors on the wind inside the alchemist circles. They probably had other methods in case Lady Karsin didn¡¯t spread the information.¡±

    Voltar nodded. ¡°Either way, a test case. Make sure everything works before acting on the actual target.¡±

    ¡°Timing¡¯s an issue,¡± I noted. ¡°They gave Golvar cases of Angel¡¯s Sorrow and sicced the Pure Bloods on him at the wrong time. That¡¯s something to do at the end of the scheme: frame your party after people are nearing your trail. Maybe give him the case and let him reach Versalicci. Small hitch for them, Giovanni wouldn¡¯t suddenly use something like that, even from a trusted associate.¡±

    Dead trusted associates, as it turned out. Voltar and Dawes had gone to Maldron¡¯s Herbs. The entire shop had been cleared out, empty. After a meeting with Malstein, Maldron and his wife had been found among the bodies the Watch fished weekly out of the Nover, throats slit.

    A dead end.

    ¡°The plan might have hinged on him using some himself. Make the connection to the Black Flame more clear,¡± I continued. ¡°But then they also used the Pure Bloods immediately, which makes mush of everything. I¡¯m wondering if we¡¯re facing disharmony.¡±

    Voltar drummed his fingers. ¡°Potentially. I always prefer to see strength in the moves of an enemy I don¡¯t understand instead of weakness. It makes it harder for them to surprise me. The simplest solution also works. A pair of poisonings is always planned, with a quick and easy scapegoat. I¡¯m brought in to ferret out your identity quickly to put a bow on the entire thing.¡±

    ¡°The public and the watch¡¯s opinion on Infernals has never been great either,¡± Dawes noted. ¡°With the recent marches, they might have counted on a whiff of Infernals being behind poisonings to cause riots that might help bury the entire matter.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s still a lot of weak points in that plan,¡± I argued. ¡°They knew I was Black Flame, but didn¡¯t know I was a diabolist. They brought you and Versalicci in, hoping you would be patsies for them. Hoping six Pure Bloods would be enough to take down Golvar.¡±

    ¡°All holes for now in the theory,¡± Voltar said. ¡°But the other alternatives have even less known. Preparing for every possible event that might occur is a good way to drive yourself to insanity.¡±

    ¡°Fair enough.¡±

    We¡¯d covered what we¡¯d been able to find on our own, which was nothing. And what Lord Montague had provided. Also nothing.

    That left one remaining option.

    ¡°How about your friends?¡± I asked Dawes. ¡°Anything from them on this mess?¡±

    ¡°Very little,¡± he told me. ¡°Confirmation they are aware of the situation and plan to address it. They don¡¯t consider me worth being kept in the loop, but if I had to guess this probably presents an intriguing opportunity to them.¡±

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s terrifying,¡± I replied. ¡°Allow me to be unpatriotic for a moment. Imperial Intelligence getting ahold of some shape-changers terrifies me.¡±

    Neither of the other two commented, but I didn¡¯t think they disagreed with me.

    ***

    The second day was spent getting my new face in place.

    I looked in the mirror carefully, willing fat and skin to move as I carefully nudged the flesh into place. The third hour, and I¡¯d only just now finished winnowing and moving bones about to their new configuration. Unfortunately, moving any swifter had a good chance of making a bone break out of my skin, but skin and fat had less calamitous effects if I messed up on it.

    Just easier to mess up.

    Someone opened the hatch behind me, and slammed the half a foot thick hatch onto the attic¡¯s floor. Vibrations traveled quickly. The skin on my face rippled like the surface of a pond before I froze it in place. Waves of fat and flesh were frozen, forming raised ridges running across my face.

    I turned a baleful glare on the open hatch, trying to force the anger out of my voice as I spoke.

    ¡°Come in.¡±

    Voltar¡¯s head poked out above the floor.

    ¡°Miss Harrow, I was wondering if you could¡­¡±

    The rest of his sentence died in his throat as I stared at him.

    ¡°I said earlier this morning I should be undisturbed,¡± I told him. ¡°I said it was because I was going to be adjusting my face, which will require the utmost concentration and stillness. What. Do. You. Want?¡±

    Voltar coughed uncomfortably.

    ¡°Messages for your brother,¡± he said, holding up a sheet of paper. ¡°As loath as I am to involve him, there might be a few matters he should know. Since you are the closest to him, I thought it best for you to deliver him.¡±

    ¡°Put them next to the hatch. I¡¯ll do it tonight if possible, although it¡¯ll probably be the day after tomorrow.¡±

    He set them next to the hatch, then smiled apologetically.

    ¡°I am sorry. What you said earlier completely left my mind. You look nice?¡±

    I stared at him, frozen rippling waves of flesh across a face hanging on an entirely different bone structure than it was used to.

    ¡°What you¡¯re aiming for, I mean,¡± he said. ¡°Not where it¡¯s currently at.¡±

    I gestured wordlessly at the hatch.

    ¡°Right. Again, I am sorry.¡±

    The hatch slammed close.

    It took half an hour to smooth out those ridges.

 Chapter 50 -Dress and a Layout

    Meeting Gregory Montague the next afternoon, my face still itched as I walked to the carriage outside Lord Montague¡¯s manor.

    Maybe it was the recent change. Maybe it was spending the entire morning having the fumes of various poisons floating about the attic lab. None of them were deadly when breathed in, but they weren¡¯t pleasant either. I¡¯d need to install an improvised fume hood in there.

    I¡¯d worked on talking till my voice sounded essentially the same as before. I hadn¡¯t touched my vocal cords, but adjusting my lips and tongue had altered it. I¡¯d settled on not just altering my face to appear like a mixture between Keltish and Anglean, but changing it further than necessary, further adjusting the shape of my skull.

    Striking a balance between being as far as possible from my natural appearance and not looking too intrinsically off was difficult. There was an excellent reason to make yourself resemble another person you knew. The artificially created tended to look artificial. And the eye could spot those little differences.

    I approached the carriage, waving a friendly hand in greeting. The message I¡¯d delivered yesterday had been that the first Infernal to approach with a wave was me. He wouldn¡¯t recognize that only if shape-changers intercepted their mail after it went into the mail slot.

    Gregory Montague leaned out of the carriage, offering a hand. He¡¯d dressed up, a frock coat in dark green with breeches of the same color. No top hat, thankfully.

    I considered the offered hand. Truth be told I was tall enough to get into the carriage myself but my face might not be fully set in yet. Best not to take any chances.

    ¡°Miss Harrow or Miss Falara today?¡± Gregory asked as I took his hand. ¡°Which do you prefer?¡±

    ¡°Miss Harrow, and could you not publicly say that latter name?¡± I hissed as I closed the carriage door behind me. ¡°I might need another name for the ball. Best not to introduce me under a name associated with the Black Flame. Danielle Waters?¡±

    ¡°Sounds reasonable enough, although juggling that many names at once seems a bit difficult. Not just keeping track of which one is being used but trying not to respond to the other ones.¡±

    ¡°A name is a mask,¡± I told him. ¡°If you wear it, immerse yourself into it till you forget all other aspects of yourself, including the other names. If you treat a name as a name, you¡¯ll fail to become it. Suffocate yourself in it till the others are corpses, only revived when you want them to.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a morbid way of putting it,¡± Gregory said with a lightly strained smile. ¡°I don¡¯t want to offend you, but it doesn¡¯t seem like you¡¯ve kept up that advice yourself?¡±

    ¡°No, I have not,¡± I agreed. ¡°I failed at it, letting stress weaken two different names'' hold on me. This one will be fine. It¡¯s just for an evening. How long till we reach this dressmaker?¡±

    ¡°Twenty minutes, with how traffic normally is. Thinking we should put together the story of how you and I met for the party?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll need it for the dressmaker, so yes.¡±

    ¡°Oh, Aedelia is very discreet,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ve trusted her with all manners of things regarding my dates to these events.¡±

    ¡°Would you trust her with something that might mean the death of your brother?¡± I asked bluntly.

    He frowned slightly, hesitating in his answer. ¡°Perhaps not.¡±

    ¡°Then I definitely don¡¯t,¡± I said. ¡°So, how did we meet?¡±

    ¡°I believe with you tackling me and holding a blade to my throat, but I imagine that won¡¯t work in this case. Maybe in the Quarter still, perhaps I met you out on the streets-¡±

    ¡°No one is going to buy a noble randomly walking the streets of the Infernal Quarter without a good reason,¡± I said. ¡°And considering the two professions you would be most likely to encounter, I¡¯m not willing to pretend to be either.¡±

    ¡°You are a criminal, though, aren¡¯t you?¡± He asked.

    The glare I turned on him was only a smidge less intense than the one Voltar had received for ruining my face adjustments yesterday.

    ¡°Fair enough. We met¡­at the temple. Can you fake being a worshipper of Tarver?¡±

    Considering my knowledge of Tarver was occasionally hearing his name among Universalists who occasionally toured the Quarter, no. I¡¯d stopped listening to them after realizing despite their preaching of lifting us out of our gods-cursed existence, they weren¡¯t much better than those of Halspus who stood at the outskirts yelling about how we would soon be destroyed for our blasphemy.

    There were other Infernals more religious than I who did visit temples, but I¡¯d shut my door on that a long time ago. When the head of the pantheon had priests praying for your destruction, I considered his fellows the same for not overthrowing him.

    ¡°I can fake being a worshipper of Halspus,¡± I muttered. ¡°Maybe even a cleric. Certainly picked up enough of their doctrine from having it screamed at me.¡±

    ¡°That probably wouldn¡¯t be believed. I''m not saying there has never been a cleric of Halspus who also happened to be an Infernal, but it¡¯s a bit of a walking contradiction. You don¡¯t need to know much about him. You could be a neophyte who ventured in wanting to learn more, maybe head to one of Sister Kellin¡¯s orgies, we met before then, hit it off,-¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I interrupted. ¡°Sister Kellin¡¯s orgies? You must be joking.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Gregory said, seemingly sincere. ¡°She does them every other week, masked affairs. It tends to attract nobles of a young age. A bit of controversy for them, thinking they''re tweaking the nose of their rich parents, and since it¡¯s masked, there''s no actual risk of public scandal or said parents finding out. A fun, safe act of rebellion. A bit controversial, especially with the Gilded Lily¡¯s clergy since she is the goddess of love, and¡­you know, I don¡¯t need to get into the doctrinal arguments. I¡¯ve never attended one, so I can¡¯t really speak to the experience either.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what the harder thing you want me to believe is. That your god approves of orgies in his temple or that you¡¯ve never been to one.¡±

    A look of fake scandalization came across Gregory¡¯s face.

    ¡°Why the nerve, accusing me of something so indecent, Miss Harrow! Truth be told, I was in one before I joined the temple. Honestly? I got much less out of it than I put in.¡±

    ¡°We can go with that as the cover then,¡± I said. ¡°That I went to the temple, not necessarily that I was there searching for an orgy.¡±

    ¡°Well, part of the reason you are being invited is that you would scandalize my father in our cover story, so-¡±

    ¡°No,¡± I insisted. ¡°We need a good reason for my invitation to be an irritation to your father but we do not want people paying more attention to me than as a mild curiosity. Being an Infernal will fulfill that role. Adding more details turns me into more of a curiosity. We can end this discussion there.¡±

    ¡°We have another conversation we need to finish at some point,¡± he said.

    I grimaced at the memory of all that had gone on in Lord Montague¡¯s manor. The results of not enough sleep and a truly horrendous¡­had it even been a week yet since this entire mess had started?

    ¡°We do have a few we need to,¡± I countered. ¡°You once warned me very firmly about Lady Karsin. Something about her spending a century in the court?¡±

    That threw the noble a little off-balance, but it only took a second for that easy grin to sprout across his face again.

    ¡°It was as I implied that day. She¡¯s survived a century at court, even made it through the reign of Her Most Profane Majesty. Some thought her dead till she turned up toward the end with some household troops. She ever talk about taking part in the battle for Avernorn with you?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve only met a few times,¡± I said. ¡°She probably thought it would be uncomfortable to bring up. She¡¯d be right.¡±

    His smile faded a little bit again. ¡°You don¡¯t agree with the decision to overthrow Her Most Profane Majesty?¡±

    That disturbed him? Then again, he¡¯d read his father''s most classified files, which probably included histories of that era. From descriptions, Versalicci was a tenth of what Her Most Profane Majesty was in terms of spite, pain, and ways to utilize both.

    ¡°I have no fondness in my bones for her,¡± I said. ¡°By all accounts, she¡¯s a monster who deserved the slaying. That doesn¡¯t make me any more fond of what happened after.¡±

    ¡°Well, regardless of that Lady Karsin has managed to survive this length of time as an elf at court,¡± Gregory said. ¡°While I can hardly talk about how it compares to being an Infernal, they aren¡¯t beloved among the nobility. See, the nobility is for us full blood humans only. It cost the queen a good deal of capital just to have the Keltish nobility accepted despite the possibility of an outright rebellion if we didn¡¯t leave the local lords with some authority over there. Yet she¡¯s maintained her positions all these decades. Definitely one with a shrewd mind. Ah!¡±

    He suddenly leaned out the window of the carriage for a few seconds before coming back inside.

    ¡°We are at our destination! Aedelia is a bit enthusiastic, but she is quite good at her job. Just don¡¯t let her foist something too ostentatious on you. I¡¯ll pay for the dress, so please don¡¯t try to empty my wallet.¡±

    I raised an eyebrow. ¡°Oh, how tempting that is. For more than one reason. I don¡¯t usually buy clothes like this you know?¡±

    ¡°Not a fan of dresses?¡± Gregory asked.

    ¡°No, I¡¯m not a fan of figuring out how much it¡¯ll cost to get a dress that¡¯s both respectable enough to wear, easy to move in, and with enough concealed pockets to carry the arsenal I want to bring. Assuming this dressmaker can even do that.¡±

    Oh, and if it could be adjusted because my legs went backward. And my tail. I should resign to taping it down so it didn¡¯t accidentally lift my skirt. That was a lesson I¡¯d thankfully learned before the streets.

    ¡°She is quite skilled,¡± Gregory assured me.

    ¡°Well then, I¡¯ll see about not draining your wallet,¡± I told him. ¡°But a good quality dress that I don¡¯t need to tape my tail to my legs? Oh that is quite the temptation, Lord Montague.¡±

    His smile grew a bit nervous. ¡°Maybe I should be in the room when you two discuss it?¡±

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    ¡°Why Lord Montague! Being in the same room as a woman and her dressmaker? The scandal that would arise!¡±

    Truth be told, he seemed half-serious about the possibility of his wallet being emptied. But it was nice to be on the other side of this for once. Exhilarating even.

    ¡°I¡¯m not afraid of scandal,¡± he told me flatly. ¡°I am afraid of losing money since I don¡¯t get any allowance from my father.¡±

    When we exited the coach, he did not offer me his hand to help me down. Ah, the fickle nature of your average¡­.I suppose cleric of Tarver instead of Dandy.

    The dressmaker¡¯s was a single-story store practically hidden between bigger ones, and opening the door led to a neat little front room with a single visible stall currently empty and a doorway leading further back into the store.

    ¡°Ah, allowance,¡± I said. ¡°Truly a devastating loss for a man in his twenties. However, could you compensate me for not missing it? I think there are a pair of words for it. Employment, mayhaps of the gainful kind for your lordship?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a cleric at Tarver¡¯s temple,¡± Gregory replied. ¡°So I am gainfully employed, and religious work doesn¡¯t pay that much money. So-¡±

    The door swung open, and a brown-haired elf wearing a dress in a riotous combination of pink, green, and brown emerged from behind it.

    ¡°Gregory, it¡¯s been too long!¡± She yelled, rushing forward to hug him. ¡°I thought your father must have threatened to kill you after the last dress you had me make for your date. And you must be the Infernal. His Lordship didn¡¯t mention your name?¡±

    ¡°Miss Waters,¡± I said, ignoring being called ¡®the Infernal.¡¯

    ¡°Well, come on back, let¡¯s see if I have anything in your size. You stay out here, Gregory, just wait out here in the front.¡±

    Aedelia rushed me to the back, the shutting door cutting off Gregory telling her not to fix me up with anything too expensive.

    ¡°He certainly knows how to treat his dates,¡± she said as soon as the door was shut.

    ¡°I can hear you!¡± he protested through the open space over the front stall.

    ¡°Yes, I know,¡± she complained, leading me through a small hallway, dresses hanging up on either side, most of them very far out of date. A collection of some sort? Most of them looked like styles long since past.

    We eventually ended up in a large room with more stored all across each wall. She took my measurements, keeping a running commentary up the entire time. I managed to get a word in asking about all the dresses.

    "Oh, truth be told I''m more a dress re-seller than a dress-maker, I mostly deal in adjustments and fittings from my current stocks."

    "That explains the styles then," I muttered to myself.

    ¡°Oh, fashion has become so dull compared to years past,¡± the dressmaker complained. ¡°Everything now is so mundane. I don¡¯t suppose I could tempt you to move past the modern sense of restraint?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d prefer to be able to move,¡± I replied, considering how much I could tell the elf. Trusted by Gregory Montague did not mean I should be transparent.

    ¡°As much as I hate to be a bore, just a simple dress that doesn¡¯t impede my movements too much will be fine.¡±

    ¡°I suppose,¡± Aedelia said. ¡°I have a few that could work. We¡¯ll need to make some adjustments of course, especially for the tail unless you want to tuck it in?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d prefer to not do that,¡± I answered. Gregory would be buying the dress so there was no need to worry about returning it in the same condition.

    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose I could get you to accept a hat as well?¡± She asked.

    I tapped one of my horns, smiling apologetically.

    ¡°I¡¯ve found most hats don¡¯t agree with the horns, sorry.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± she said, looking over them, eyes narrowing. ¡°But perhaps something else. Give me just a second.¡±

    Aedelia went to the back of the store, and I waited first a minute, then two, then ten before the dressmaker returned. She cradled a model ship in her hands, a man-o-war in miniature.

    ¡°You wanted to show me a model ship?¡± I asked.

    ¡°No, I want you to wear a model ship,¡± she told me, beaming.

    I¡­what?

    ¡°We might need to do something with your hair, a wig perhaps, but with hair wrapped around it and balanced between your horns, it should fit right in,¡± Aedelia said proudly.

    ¡°I am not wearing a ship on my head,¡± I said. ¡°Everyone will be staring at me the moment I look in with that perched atop my head.¡±

    ¡°That is the point. Oh, it is about half a century out of style, I¡¯ll admit, but look at it this way: you¡¯ll be the center of attention!¡±

    "No,¡± I flatly replied.

    ¡°You¡¯ll be the talk of the event!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be attending one of Lord Montague¡¯s events! I¡¯m an Infernal! I think that¡¯ll be talk enough, don¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Maybe,¡± Aedelia conceded. ¡°I suppose the HMS Sunstopper will have to return to storage then. Wait here a moment?¡±

    She disappeared into the storage rooms, but I could hear her steps as she made a circuitous route to the front room, opening the door and closing it quietly.

    I¡¯d taken the liberty of adjusting my ears while remolding my face. Not too much, so it wouldn¡¯t leave any obvious physical traces of being modified, but enough that I could hear a little farther than most would expect.

    Aedelia whispered, and I tried to listen in, considering it a good way to test my new ears.

    ¡°You said this one wouldn¡¯t be boring! But she is!¡±

    ¡°You tried to put the ship on top of her didn¡¯t you? No one¡¯s wanted a boat on their head for seventy years, Addy!¡±

    Aedelia showed back up several minutes later, a few dresses on her arms.

    ¡°Those are the ones you want me to try?¡± I asked.

    "The first batch, yes. There''s at least ten more batches in the back¡±

    Well, I thought as she went back into the rooms of her shop for me, I could use a relaxing afternoon for once.

    ***

    Halfway through the batches, relaxation drifted further and further from my mind.

    Not that it wasn¡¯t fun, seeing myself in clothes I¡¯d never been able to afford and probably would never again. Second-hand, obviously, but it''s still something I could never justify adding to my budget.

    Only one problem.

    ¡°It¡¯s very lovely,¡± I said, looking down at the pale green bell skirt, moving around while looking at the mirror. This particular shade was maybe a bit too light for my skin, perhaps a bit much on the ruffles, but if I had a choice removed from practicality? This would be a very close decision.

    Except for the crinoline, which was very difficult to move in. The corset holding my waist in felt like I would never be able to bend over in it as well.

    ¡°I do have to be able to move, though,¡± I said, ending my turn facing Aedelia.

    The dressmaker sighed. ¡°Unfortunately, yes. One second.¡±

    The elf helped me out of the dress, and I was grateful that only one other person was required to help me in and out. Even if it meant more time was taken to change. I didn¡¯t know how much Gregory had told her about what was going on, but she knew I needed to move quickly but had given me several dresses that were not that at all.

    ¡°Perhaps something not in a style that¡¯s intrinsically difficult to move in?¡± I asked as I finally got out of the crinoline.

    ¡°I do have something in the back that could be easier to move in,¡± Aedelia said, eyeing me for what felt like the hundredth time. ¡°Give me half a second.¡±

    Stuck in my drawers and a short camisole, I nervously tapped my hoof, waiting for her return. It took far longer than a minute, but when she returned, it was carrying something that immediately stopped my tapping.

    ¡°What is that?¡± I said while eyeing the garment, she¡¯d brought back.

    ¡°Something that found its way into my hands after a few different stops along the way,¡± Aedelia said. ¡°I¡¯m not sure of the exact name.¡±

    I knew it. Mother had worn a few before we¡¯d been sent to the quarter. I held onto some of those memories to have some happy times compared to what had come later.

    Cheongsam, although this one had been altered near the top, the collar was removed, and the sleeves were adjusted to a barely on-the-shoulders style like the dress I¡¯d just worn. Honestly, there might as well not even be sleeves at that point. It was red with golden flowers patterned across it, the skirt going down to just below the ankles but two slits climbing up the sides to¡­very high.

    ¡°I think it is close enough in your size that it¡¯ll fit,¡± Aedelia said. ¡°Do you want to try it on?¡±

    Yes, that was my immediate thought, but I held back just a little. Aunt Diwei would be there. Would this raise suspicion? Maybe.

    Then again, it might just make her angry to see it on a foul-blood, which is actually a point in its favor.

    ¡°Yes,¡± I said.

    It didn¡¯t take too long to change into it and to start looking at myself in the mirror.

    It lay a bit too much skin bare, maybe. Shoulders, arms, and if I moved too far, those slits in the skirt¡­.what would people say?

    I was venturing into dangerous territory here. They would already think the worst of me, or many would. Did I want to feed fuel into that?

    ¡°It¡¯ll need some adjustments,¡± Aedelia noted, walking around. ¡°A bit tight up top, and on the sleeves, but I have some spare fabric of this type. I¡¯ll be careful not to disrupt the patterns.¡±

    It was, and I was half-tempted just to say to find something else. But¡­I looked at myself in the mirror again, not trying to consider what would be good if a fight happened. Just would it be nice to be seen in this?

    ¡°Not a lot of space for my tail,¡± I observed, wiggling my appendage. Looking behind me, it was pushing the dress back a fair bit and trying to fit it through the slit¡­well I certainly wouldn¡¯t be doing that.

    ¡°I can add a hole back there,¡± Aedelia said.

    ¡°And something to cover it up?¡±

    ¡°Hrrm, perhaps a bow? I have a few ones in this shade. Oh, I have a second, smaller one for your tail as well! That might look nice.¡±

    I considered it in the mirror, trying to picture what that would look like. I wasn¡¯t going to look nice¡­but Danielle Waters would be.

    ¡°Yes, it would,¡± I said. ¡°Both of them. How long do you think alterations will take?¡±

    ¡°A day at the most. I can send it to your address, or you can pick it up, depending on your preference?¡±

    I should limit the number of hints on who I was. ¡°I¡¯ll come pick it up. About the price?¡±

    ¡°A discussion between me and Lord Gregory. Don¡¯t worry; it won¡¯t empty his precious wallet. Do you want him to see you in it?¡±

    I turned back to the mirrors.

    ¡°Not yet.¡±

    ***

    Malstein was with us for the fourth day.

    We¡¯d sketched out from memory the parts of the manor Voltar and I had gone through during our earlier visit. It filled some more of the second floor out. Gregory had helped with more of that, but the third floor remained empty.

    Apparently even kinship didn¡¯t get you access to the third floor. Those who could venture there could be counted on two hands, Lord Montague, his heir, a pair of retainers that were most likely practitioners of some kind of magic, and a quartet of guards.

    ¡°He better not be keeping your brother there,¡± I told Gregory. ¡°Unless he lets more people in. A place with a restricted number of people in or out is going to be more at risk.¡±

    This was closer to a kidnapping than an assassination attempt, so trying to hide Edward Montague would present a higher risk, mainly if access was limited. We¡¯d known since the last meeting with Lord Montague what their goal would be, but then he chose a way of hiding his heir that seemed to help more than hinder the shape-changers.

    ¡°I¡¯d suggest sending someone to scout the rest of the layout if we had more time and if being caught wouldn¡¯t result in the invitations being retracted,¡± I said.

    ¡°Too much of a risk,¡± Voltar agreed. ¡°Also, perhaps do not discuss this next time in front of the Watch?¡±

    Malstein grinned. ¡°He¡¯s got a point. Breaking the law is only legal when you¡¯ve got a badge, Miss Harrow.¡±

    Like I needed a reminder of that.

    ¡°Dawes and I will keep close together and handle the first floor to draw the attention of any of the shape-changers who will be there. Also, from prior events, we will both find it hard to disengage.¡±

    The celebrity of being the Empire¡¯s best detective and his trusted companion would keep them from slipping away.

    ¡°That leaves me and Gregory Montague to handle the outskirts and the second floor,¡± I said. ¡°The scandal of him bringing an Infernal should hopefully fade quickly. At least some guests will probably pretend I¡¯m not even there as soon as I make it convenient for them. The shape-changers will probably be aware of who I am, though.¡±

    A lone Infernal at the party? After their issues with the same Infernal under two different faces? One didn¡¯t need to be Voltar to connect those dots.

    ¡°Most likely,¡± Voltar said. ¡°I might have made a mistake deciding not to go after those Pure Bloods. I¡¯d sent notes to the Delver Guilds, hoping they would consider it a matter of importance, but I¡¯ve yet to hear anything back. And now we are stuck purely on the reactive, hoping they swallow the bait.¡±

    I nodded. ¡°Let¡¯s hope that they are targeting Lord Montague specifically then. Because if they are, no matter how obvious the trap, this is their best moment to strike.¡±

    Edward Montague had gotten up this morning fit as a fiddle, Gregory had said, just in time for the second dose of the antidote that left him a wreck, barely able to lift his head an inch off his bed. The fight between antidote and poison was ongoing and would be concluded by the evening of the ball.

    It was too much to hope that no shape-changer had infiltrated the Montague¡¯s estate. The chances were too high they had been.

    Whatever changes were made to his personality would be cemented by the day after. The best time to replace him would be the ball.

 Chapter 51 - When Is Paranoia Simply Good Sense?

    I spent the fifth day partly in negotiations. At least this time, there wasn¡¯t a gun being pointed at my face. If only because the other party didn¡¯t own one.

    ¡°My favorite fish shop is closed for three weeks because the entire area is now diabolically tainted,¡± Varrow hissed. ¡°It¡¯s going to be closed for an entire month as well. At this point, I wish you¡¯d used that airborne poison instead.¡±

    We were inside his house once again, which he¡¯d reinforced. Since he didn¡¯t have the money for a locksmith, I¡¯d waited five minutes while he huffed, puffed, and then finally moved aside a couch. A massive, old piece of furniture I¡¯d never trust to sit down on. Not without getting several new insect companions latched onto me.

    ¡°Varrow, it¡¯s just some letters. I¡¯ve attached good money to delivering them and the jobs inside. Why focus on what by now is ancient history-¡±

    ¡°Less than a week ago.¡±

    ¡°-relatively ancient history. It¡¯s not like I¡¯m asking you to do any fighting. Or even sneaking. Just simple delivery.¡±

    He considered the letters in my hand, then sighed and took them from me. ¡°Why can¡¯t you do this instead?¡±

    ¡°Just because I survived once doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯d survive twice,¡± I said. ¡°At least for the first one. For the rest, I have other things I need to do.¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯re bumming the work off to me because it¡¯s beneath you,¡± Varrow griped, followed by a few coughs.

    ¡°You have been taking the medicine I sent?¡± I asked, moving closer.

    Hopefully, paranoia hadn¡¯t led him to not even opening the bottle.

    ¡°Yes, yes,¡± he said, backing away and waving me off. ¡°Bad case of smog drifting off that new manufactory the artificers have set up on the edge of Bismuth. Look, I¡¯ll deliver them, all of them. I¡¯m just¡­.damnations, I try to stay low key on purpose, Malvia.¡±

    ¡°You weren¡¯t the only one,¡± I said sympathetically. Although he at least could probably disappear into relative obscurity after this. I doubted I¡¯d have that option.

    We both went to the door, and he opened it to let me out, couch right next to it and ready to be moved back into place. As soon as the door opened, a muffled sound became much clearer and immediately caught both of our attentions.

    The noise was familiar to us both. If not, the distant chanted slogan and the sound of marching feet, the booming voice projected across the sky way the same. It hadn¡¯t been there when I¡¯d arrived.

    ¡°How many times this week?¡± I asked.

    ¡°First time since the first. Thought they¡¯d had their taste of violence and left once the Watch stopped playing nice with them. Way I heard it, some very surprised folks ended up with a night in the Coffin.¡±

    ¡°The Watch? You¡¯re joking.¡±

    They¡¯d acted even-handed when I¡¯d briefly watched, but I¡¯d never thought it would extend to stays in the Coffin. One of the lesser jails instead.

    Then again, they had removed the torturers out of the Coffin.

    We both walked down the same streets towards the ever-rising noise. Fewer Infernals were crowding the cross-streets now. Everyone knew what this was, so the curious would be gone. So would anyone who had any fears about them.

    Those left were those here for either a show, a fight, or to spit defiance. Only one of those three were the good kind to be around if you didn¡¯t want to be involved in a brawl, and that would be the more peaceful side of this.

    The Watch formed a barrier between the marchers and Quarter residents again, but there was no relying on numbers to keep the two sides separated. Gleaming bayonet points served that role instead. They must have borrowed the rifles from the army. Whoever was trying to keep the peace probably didn¡¯t trust any units from the army to handle those.

    Units stationed inside the city would have no Infernals inside them, while those outside had too many. While the slim part of the Watch that had horns and hooves weren¡¯t on favorable terms with many in the Quarter. Still, the Quarter would trust them more than an entirely non-Infernal force. And there weren¡¯t enough of them to risk them joining those wanting to bash the marcher¡¯s heads in.

    The ringleader¡¯s enhanced voice kept speaking. Probably a priest of Halpsus, since it sounded like the ruined cathedral once again.

    ¡°Diabolism is running rampant in our streets, brothers and sisters!¡± the voice yelled from the sky. ¡°Only a few days ago, a fiendish caster of Infernal blood attempted to transform the entirety of Avernon¡¯s docks into a diabolic creature to assail our city! Only stopped by the brave intervention of those who guard us against the worse impulses of those spawned out of the hells below, but they cannot keep this vigil up forever!¡±

    Varrow pointedly stared at me while the blather continued up above.

    I rolled my eyes. ¡°I can promise you that over two-thirds of that is complete nonsense. The other third is stretching the truth so hard it¡¯s being torn apart at the seams.¡±

    ¡°Try telling that to this lot,¡± he responded.

    That, I was forced to concede, wouldn¡¯t end well.

    ¡°If not that, they¡¯d have seized on something else,¡± I replied.

    It was hard to deny that I¡¯d add some fire to the actual smoke. It was harder to buy into claims of, say, diabolical infernals turning your daughters into succubi when all four daughters were still distinctly human.

    Publicly, at least. I could speak to the idiocy of your average Diabolist or your average pair of teen lovers. Hopefully, Beth and Thomias were enjoying themselves in whatever Hell they¡¯d been consigned to after Versalicci killed them both for that stunt.

    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Poor example. But most cases of diabolic accusations were unfounded rumor and hearsay. I¡¯d unfortunately provided a case twice now where it wasn¡¯t.

    The marchers were more daring than our side, some of them getting right to the points of the bayonets as they yelled things at the Infernals on the other side of the line. They weren¡¯t backing down after yelled orders from the Watch either.

    ¡°What do you think are the odds on some of them betting the Watch wouldn¡¯t dare use rifles on upstanding citizens?¡± I asked Varrow.

    ¡°Having lived here for fifty years? It¡¯ll happen. It¡¯s¡­.what¡¯s the word?¡±

    ¡°Inevitable?¡±

    ¡°Think that¡¯s the one. Of course, they may be right. Can¡¯t see the Watch being too happy about this.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s for sure.¡±

    Despite my relatively cordial treatment by Malstein and making it two trips to the Coffin without having bits cut off, I knew better than to trust them. If an unfriendly face suddenly starts acting like your chums, watch out for the stiletto being aimed at your back.

    ¡°You think they¡¯re here to protect us or to protect them?¡± Varrow asked me, nodding towards the cordon of Watch.

    ¡°I think they¡¯re here to keep the rest of the city safe,¡± I muttered.

    Riots would spread if they were large enough, and there were enough marchers to make it a massive riot, which was part of the issue.

    ¡°How are there this many of them?¡± I asked myself, but Varrow seemed to take it as directed at him.

    ¡°That a serious question? There ain¡¯t ever been a lack of people willing to hate us, Malvia.¡±

    ¡°Please don¡¯t call me that while we¡¯re in public,¡± I glared at him.

    He at least should understand the idea behind not using real names. I was going to strangle the next person who did that in public.

    ¡°Point being, the hells caused this?¡± I asked Varrow. ¡°This is trailing the mark to their house and trying to pick their pocket while they¡¯re closing the front door. These people are begging for a beating.¡±

    Sure, there were many marchers concentrated in the street. The single street. Running through the entire Quarter, one that had been emptied multiple times over waves of conscription into Her Majesty¡¯s armies or even those working for paying work. It still probably had easily more than a hundred times the number of marchers, who maybe numbered four or five thousand at the absolute most.

    Survivors from service in the army, or even the navy, had returned to service as well. Add in the criminal population, which this lot would probably think was a hundred times bigger and meaner than it actually was on average. They¡¯d be convinced every pickpocket and con artist was some Black Flame or Ram-horn tough.

    They¡¯d decided to come here anyway.

    At least my describing this in pickpocket terms seemed to reach Varrow, whose eyes had narrowed.

    ¡°People think irrational things about those they hate,¡± he said. ¡°And the numbers might give them confidence.¡±

    ¡°Then protest in front of the government¡¯s buildings, where their message is going to reach people who might hurt us,¡± I said. ¡°Here they¡¯re showing their numbers to those who do not care. What is it supposed to be? Intimidation? We¡¯re already mostly confined here.¡±

    Well, I wasn¡¯t, but most Infernals didn¡¯t get caught up in messes like I did.

    Varrow considered the chanting crowd again, the gathering crowd of Infernals around it.

    ¡°Might be tempering,¡± he said. ¡°When you lot were young, I¡¯d send you against marks I knew would notice but wouldn¡¯t hurt you too badly. Learning the trade, learning to do it well. Confidence-building once you started doing it without being caught.¡±

    ¡°I disagree with them not hurting us too bad,¡± I said. ¡°I have at least one once-broken rib that disagrees with that assessment.¡±

    ¡°Eh. You survived.¡±

    ¡°Besides, I think we¡¯ve stretched the analogy as far as it will go. They shouldn¡¯t need to build their confidence unless they plan on invading the Quarter. This is a threat.¡±

    An angry mob big enough to threaten the whole quarter storming it? It¡¯s not impossible, multiple times over the last few decades. Once in my lifetime even, which had been hell. Before the Black Flame, when I¡¯d been part of Varrow¡¯s little gang of street rats and pickpockets, trying to find enough to keep me and Mother afloat.

    She¡¯d been fine, blending in with the rioters quickly enough. We¡¯d had to make do hiding in a basement in an abandoned building. Barricading the door and hoping no one broke it down or tried to burn the building. It had been a night of screams.

    From the look in his eyes, Varrow might be thinking of the same night. Or a different one before I¡¯d been born.

    ¡°Threat to who? Us? Like you said, getting us shoved out of here wouldn¡¯t be easy.¡±

    ¡°Underground mayhap, but that wouldn¡¯t end well for anyone. Either way, it¡¯s a mystery for perhaps another day.¡±

    Hopefully, not for now. The sinking feeling that this was connected wouldn¡¯t leave my gut, but the mind made connections, hoping to make sense of things.

    This was just a coincidence. I was providing some unfortunate fuel to the fire, but that didn¡¯t mean they were involved in my problems. Just adding to them.

    ***

    It was night now, the dual suns of today having set, and now a trio of moons had replaced them, Maldare, Roviarre, and smaller Kelsen trailing far behind her two sisters.

    I¡¯d retrieved the dress from Aedelia, exactly with the modifications I''d asked for it.

    The longer that conversation had gone on, the more disconcerted I¡¯d found myself by the Elven dressmaker. Could she add hidden pockets? Sure, and plenty of them! Big enough for knives? Definitely, if they were small enough! Potentially able to help cushion glass vials so their contents didn¡¯t eat through the dress and your flesh underneath? Oh, she knew just an addition to make to the fabric.

    I wasn¡¯t sure if I¡¯d been dealing with someone who sold dresses or used to outfit assassins. Given her age¡­it was a possibility.

    The dress was now hung in the attic''s half I had slept in, away from any chance of my lab leaving a stench on or damaging it. I¡¯d already stowed what I could inside the hidden pockets. Vials, a pair of knives, a derringer. The revolver I would fit into my purse, along with several alchemical and regular rounds, but there would be no smuggling a saber in.

    I had cajoled the location of a few of the Montagues'' out of Gregory, who seemed mildly ecstatic at the idea of me laying my hands on family heirlooms. Well, at his father¡¯s reaction to that.

    And I thought relations with my family were...no, they were still worse. My few conversations with the demon that had sired me left a lot to be desired. My brother was a manipulative monster. My mother was either cursed or in a coma, while my family from her had considered me an embarrassment when I was barely old enough to walk.

    They might die from shock if they discovered what I¡¯d been doing after taking my first steps.

    My thoughts wandered freely tonight. Mainly to avoid the topic at hand.

    On the floor before me was an eight-sided star, a black flame in the middle.

    Why is this even a debate? The Imp said in my head. Do you think you can stand up to these creatures sans Diabolism?

    ¡°I¡¯m not the only one who will be there,¡± I replied. ¡°The last two times, I was on my own.¡±

    And how much do you trust these people with your life? A noble who hates you and barely tolerates you being here and his guards? A detective who has coerced you into his service and constantly pokes and prods, waiting for you to fall apart? His partner who is in the service of an organization who will be looking to exploit your services the moment they can while they hold your parent hostage? A noble brat who has played you in almost every conversation you¡¯ve had? A watch captain presenting himself as the pleasant face to an organization that only years ago would cut you up?

    I picked up the focus, rotating it as the moonlight caught the black steel, the color seeming to darken. Someone had bled to make this. Knowing my brother, someone had probably died to make it.

    The Imp was so heavily biased that its opinion could be ignored. No matter what the problem that faced me, it would always advocate for Diabolism as the solution.

    That didn¡¯t mean it was wrong.

    I tucked the metal star into one of the dress¡¯ pockets, then settled in for an uneasy sleep.

 Chapter 52 - Some Slight Change of Plans

    I¡¯d made a horrible mistake, I realized as I stood outside of one of the city¡¯s many temples to Tarver.

    Namely, what one felt comfortable wearing with only one other person in attendance differed greatly from what felt comfortable. Especially when you are waiting outside a public place, and people regularly pass by. People notice an Infernal in a foreign dress with no shoulders and slits on the sides leading up to part of her thighs.

    Far too many had lingered while I did my best to ignore them, muttered whispers about me as they went inside.

    ¡°What¡¯s an infernal doing here? Have you ever seen one waiting outside a temple?¡±

    ¡°Never, and what is she wearing? Is she trying to draw attention, wearing an outfit like that?¡±

    ¡°Do you remember that one girl from Madame Zozie¡¯s? The one from the far east? Didn¡¯t she wear something similar?¡±

    ¡°Do you think the rumors are true about sleeping with one damning your soul to the Hells? Because dressed like that, she might end up nabbing a few.¡±

    ¡°Someone should invite her inside the temple, I¡¯m curious what it would be like. She clearly wants attention.¡±

    Most of them trended in that direction and after a while I¡¯d wished I¡¯d never even tinkered with my ears. It was an improvement in some ways, and in some definitely not.

    I¡¯d made myself into a curiosity to be gawked at, and all I could do was pretend no one looked at me. Where was Gregory?

    I was supposed to arrive first at the party, several hours before it even began.

    It had been decided that all of us showing up at the same time would be very suspicious. The staff were being kept in the dark about Voltar, Dawes, and my involvement in this to varying extents. The chances of keeping the entire thing under wraps were quite low, especially to our targets, but there was no need to tip the scales so far that they didn¡¯t show.

    So I¡¯d been waiting outside the Temple of Tarver, doing my best to look the part of the impressionable young lady out on a nightly date. This meant acting like a complete mark and taking inspiration from several characters I¡¯d read about, but I would not immerse myself in them.

    Not that deeply, at least. And definitely not with Gregory Montague.

    Speaking of which, here came his coach, the driver giving me a polite nod as it came to a stop.

    I returned it, outwardly polite, while inside, I seethed. Did she know because I was the only Infernal in sight or because she¡¯d been told who I was? Damnations Gregory, as small of a circle as possible!

    Gregory opened the door, dressed in a smart suit. He paused, any words stuck in his throat as he looked me over, eyes widening slightly before they narrowed quickly again, an easy grin back in place.

    ¡°Miss Waters,¡± he said, offering me his hand.

    Why had he hesitated? I couldn¡¯t let that slow us down, but I suddenly needed to know. Instead, I took his hand and settled inside the carriage.

    The carriage moved into motion, turning around and beginning the journey to Montague Manor.

    ¡°I thought you wanted to avoid the attention of the Xangs?¡± he asked me.

    ¡°This was the easiest dress I could find to move in,¡± I replied. ¡°If they have any questions, we just lie and say it was the cheapest we could find since it¡¯s been modified.¡±

    ¡°Yes, of course. Although, is the bow helping that much with moving?¡± He asked me.

    I turned around, considering said bow. I didn¡¯t know why Aedelia had so much fabric matching that of the dress, but I didn¡¯t care. Same for if it didn¡¯t quite match.

    ¡°That¡¯s there for modesty,¡± I told him, a fake disapproving look on my face. ¡°I¡¯m hardly going to go around with a hole in the dress for my tail uncovered, considering what else is nearby. Please remove your mind from the gutter, Lord Gregory.¡±

    ¡°Ah, my apologies. It so often ends up there. What about the second bow?¡±

    Oh. Right. I eyed the end of my tail, where a red ribbon affixed it just before the spade tip of my tail, daintily tied.

    ¡°Your tailor suggested it,¡± I said with forced lightness. ¡°I¡¯m not too good to judge these things, so I just went with what she said.¡±

    ¡°She also suggested you wear a model ship on top of your head,¡± he said, and I snorted.

    ¡°Give me some credit,¡± I replied. ¡°Some things obviously will not work.¡±

    He chuckled at that. ¡°True enough. If you agreed to the entire outfit, though, you¡¯re a good judge of this.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡± I said, leaning forward. ¡°How so?¡±

    ¡°I think you¡¯ll draw every eye on you once they see you,¡± he told me. ¡°Dressed like this, with who you are? Everyone will be curious about you.¡±

    Curious. My mind went back to standing outside the temple.

    Gregory¡¯s smile faded a bit. ¡°Are you all right? I didn¡¯t mean to-¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s nothing,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s fine. So it will work for the party then?¡±

    Silence took hold for a bit, till he spoke up again.

    ¡°Did you enjoy the Temple of Tarver?¡± Gregory asked me.

    ¡°I think it¡¯s too far from your house,¡± I groused, determined not to mention anything about what I¡¯d overheard. ¡°It¡¯s a good thing we are leaving so early; otherwise, it¡¯ll be over by the time we get there. And even then, you ended up being late.¡±

    I exaggerated. It would be a few hours, so we would arrive a good half hour before the party started. Still, the sheer distance between it and the manor probably wasn¡¯t a coincidence.

    ¡°Some traffic issues came up. Someone lost control of an automaton; it¡¯s currently stuck in the middle of a street, spewing steam and whistling so loud it would probably make your ears bleed. We¡¯ll take another route. As for the temple, I find it very well placed, sometimes much more so than my home. Much less crowded, don¡¯t you think?¡±

    I glanced at a series of buildings that probably housed a hundred people. Multi-story structures with more space per renter than my apartment in the quarter, beating my former dwelling in terms of comfort.

    Lord Montague¡¯s manor house also dwarfed them.

    ¡°Yes, much less crowded. Tarver supports charitable works?¡±

    ¡°I think most deities do in their own way, but if you mean we provide it directly, then yes. I¡¯m surprised you wore the dress.¡±

    ¡°I was hardly going to show up in street clothes,¡± I told him. ¡°Also, why? I like a good dress just as much as the next woman. Circumstance just denies me the opportunity most of the time. Have you ever tried fleeing across a rooftop in a corset, Lord Gregory?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± he told me flatly.

    Taken aback, I didn¡¯t immediately have a reply to that.

    ¡°Well then, you are already aware of the difficulties in doing so. How did that come about?¡±

    ¡°Let us just say for some people, I will do many things to see them. And make their parents not suspect anything is going on. I didn¡¯t succeed, and they got some very wrong ideas about what their daughter was into, but it ended in some self-discovery for her, so in the end, some good came out of it.¡±

    My mind tried following that trail of implications to its ending before deciding some things were not any of my business.

    ¡°I¡¯m surprised we are arriving so early. Wouldn¡¯t it fit better to arrive near the beginning? The black sheep of the family, arriving with the woman sure to piss his father off on his arm? Here to raise a fuss and cause a stir?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve suddenly become a lot fonder of drawing extra eyes all of a sudden,¡± Gregory said. ¡°I thought you weren¡¯t aiming to draw too many eyes, but if that¡¯s changed, we can stop by Aedelia¡¯s for that model ship.¡±

    ¡°No, that thing is never going on my head, even if I wanted to make a stir,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s part of your character. Whereas I¡¯m some demure religious girl you¡¯ve picked up at a temple.¡±

    Gregory¡¯s expression sobered. ¡°Could you not imply that this is some kind of act on my part?¡±

    ¡°Sorry,¡± I said. ¡°Force of habit. But still, why aren¡¯t we doing that then?¡±

    Gregory sighed. ¡°Because Father has decided that he wants nothing to upstage his plan for the ball. Which means no grand entrance of me and the woman on my arm guaranteed to irritate him.¡±

    ¡°Upstage what, exactly?¡± I asked. ¡°This ball was originally for a purpose he¡¯d already decided couldn¡¯t be fulfilled. We resurrected it as this trap, and while I agree me arriving at the start would draw eyes, so are you not fulfilling your own¡­.I don¡¯t want to call it an act.¡±

    ¡°Good, because it¡¯s not. No, Father has resurrected not just the ball, but its original purpose as well. Lady Karsin will be coming, and if Father decides he is up for it, Edward will come down later in the evening to be introduced to her.¡±

    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    ¡°Is he insane?¡± I hissed. ¡°When did he decide this?¡±

    ¡°As soon as he found a doctor willing to say what he wanted,¡± Gregory said with resigned bitterness. ¡°Everyone else has already stated what they think of the idea, but he¡¯s proceeded ahead with full steam. The entire family tried talking him out of it, but he¡¯s already tried to think of something to gain out of this, since he figures tonight¡¯s events are probably going to make him the talk of the city. Not in a good way.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t care what quack he dug up,¡± I said. ¡°Ignoring the great personal risk your brother is in at the moment? He will most likely not have recovered, and if he is, he will not act like your father expects him to.¡±

    ¡°All good points. Now, do you think he¡¯ll be more likely to listen if they come from your mouth instead of mine, his current wife, and every other one of his children currently in the city?¡±

    I paused as I considered the question, searching for any possible solution.

    ¡°Maybe if you held him down, and I terrorized him a little with Diabolism?¡± I suggested.

    ¡°Maybe,¡± Gregory mused. ¡°He tends to turn more agreeable when you threaten him. How would you use diabolism to twist his arm?¡±

    ¡°Metaphorically? Conjure up some wisps, insinuate I¡¯m going to corrupt his soul with my hands. Some minor magic to dim the lights, make it look like I¡¯m about to tear into him. Ooh, insinuate that I will turn him into an Infernal, which always makes people panic. Even more if you prepare the ritual.¡±

    Gregory shifted in his seat, a mite of uneasiness on his face. ¡°You can do that?¡±

    ¡°Oh, sure,¡± I replied. ¡°Not Infernals, but devils? You can even convert people to devils with enough energy and a willing soul. Those kinds of rituals are designed to be easy if you invoke the right devils to handle the technical side of things. It¡¯s harder for them to cross over to the material anywhere near here, since Her Majesty waged her first campaigns against them. Intelligent ones can¡¯t cross over without being detected within hours. An opportunity to get someone over on this side? They¡¯ll take that chance when it arises, although it depends on the soul itself. Most of them only ever amount to imps. The government has prohibited the rituals, of course, but they have their way of spreading.¡±

    ¡°Theoretical knowledge only, of course?¡± Gregory asked.

    ¡°I once checked over the work of a fellow Diabolist because his girlfriend really wanted to try it,¡± I said. ¡°Honestly, she was probably destined for down there, anyway. She just sped up the process.¡±

    ¡°Ah,¡± Gregory said. ¡°I suppose she is still around then? And probably disappointed that she¡¯s an imp?¡±

    ¡°Succubus,¡± I said. ¡°I wasn¡¯t kidding about her probably being destined for the hells. But don¡¯t worry about her, she¡¯s already there, along with her boyfriend. Versalicci was livid when he found out and had both of them killed immediately.¡±

    ¡°Did the succubus refuse him or something else petty like that?¡± Gregory asked. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you yourself have any information on how well the leader of the Black Flame performs.¡±

    Eww. He probably didn¡¯t know about our relation, but the idea of Gio¡­.no.

    ¡°He¡¯s had a few mistresses,¡± I said. ¡°He keeps them satisfied.¡±

    Gregory smirked. ¡°Have I touched a nerve? Did you perhaps-?¡±

    ¡°Unless you want a hoof hitting you in a very uncomfortable place, do not finish that sentence.¡±

    A minute passed before Gregory cleared his throat.

    ¡°So, the couple consigned to the Hells. Any theories on what happened afterward?¡±

    ¡°I actually got a postcard from them,¡± I said. ¡°A very nice one, too.¡±

    ¡°Now I know you¡¯re joking,¡± Gregory said. ¡°You just talked about the difficulty for devils to cross over.¡±

    ¡°Intelligent ones,¡± I corrected. ¡°Materials and animals are easy enough, although there are limits. It sounded like they were having a fun time and even invited me over if I ever ended up down there. It was pretty flattering as well, but I never liked either of them in that way.¡±

    Gregory chewed on that for a while before speaking up.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure whether or not you¡¯re joking.¡±

    ¡°Were you joking about the orgies?¡±

    There wasn¡¯t silence in the carriage, not with the sounds of a mid-afternoon in Avernon right outside, but the feeling of silence was there.

    They were in the Hells now, to be sure, and I had been flattered by the postcard. I hadn¡¯t been tricked, though. Enough people had gone to hell and written what they found that I knew the rosy picture painted by the two newly created lust devils had been as false as those the city officials painted of Avernon, for very different reasons.

    The Hells needed soldiers and were always looking to expand their supply. They wanted people for a hundred different wars, of course. There was still a war ongoing for a throne usurped.

    ***

    Half an hour later, we were traveling through the Ironworks, which wasn¡¯t much relief for my ears. A hundred whistles blowing, the clanking of machinery, tools working on metal, all of it dedicated to a task of continuing the Ironworks expansion. It differed greatly from the last time I¡¯d visited in only a few months.

    I¡¯d taken a river ferry to the Temple of Tarver, figuring the recent inoculations safe enough to risk traveling on the Nover. It was still a risky business since the river fumes had made me light-headed, but I thought it worth the time saved.

    The Ironworks had started as its name, a long-running ironworks that had dominated its section of the city. It had existed through centuries, several profaning and cleansings, and in most recent times, had been chosen by the recently formed Guild of Machines.

    I¡¯d visited when they¡¯d finished their second factory three months back, a goliath stretching eight stories into the sky, the ground floor producing cargo-loading automatons the size of ogres.

    There were at least two more that size now and a tower stretching further into the sky. More construction was ongoing for another factory of equal size, being done by those ogre-sized automatons. It looked like they were adding more floors to the tower, which rivalled the Imperial Palace in height.

    I doubted this was also a gift from a god.

    ¡°Do you think they¡¯ll keep going till they pierce the heavens?¡± I asked Gregory, pointing at the tower. He laughed while shaking his head.

    ¡°Do you think the dwarves will tunnel till they reach hell?¡± He responded. ¡°They tunneled down somewhere, but I hope not to the Hells.¡±

    ¡°You have to wonder how those ideas got started,¡± I said. ¡°You could go to either place, albeit only if you were a mage of sufficient caliber. Still, people knew Hell had a sky in places, and Heaven had a floor. Besides, the celestial realms could never exist in the sky. The dragons wouldn¡¯t tolerate it.¡±

    ¡°Edward once said he thought the gods had heaven in the sky, just hidden away specifically to rub it into the drake¡¯s faces they were stuck sharing the skies,¡± Gregory said before his expression sobered.

    ¡°How is your brother doing?¡± I asked.

    ¡°We haven¡¯t been allowed to see him,¡± Gregory said. ¡°No one has outside Father.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d call that overly paranoid, but I think the last week has shown we haven¡¯t been paranoid enough.¡±

    Honestly, we¡¯d been lucky. There could have been so much more these shape-changers did besides impersonating Lord Montague. They have been very conservative with that so far.

    ¡°I heard him screaming earlier,¡± Gregory said. ¡°That floor is soundproofed, but I could still hear him.¡±

    I winced. ¡°Sounds like the cure was taken badly. It will still work, even if the process is more violent than usual. He¡¯ll survive, but the chance of his personality being more¡­changed is higher.¡±

    ¡°Joyous, happy days,¡± Gregory said sardonically. ¡°Either get an entirely new brother or a changeling by the end of today.¡±

    ¡°I wish I could offer more reassuring words, but little good comes of the Draconic and the celestial warring in the same body,¡± I said. ¡°I suppose the intensity of the fit might show how powerful of a celestial they¡¯ve caught. Somehow.¡±

    That was another question. Celestials weren¡¯t common, and the blood needed to be pure in order to make the poison. Unfortunately, research had been well-conducted by several people on how half-celestial ichor wasn¡¯t strong enough.

    ¡°I¡¯m surprised that doesn¡¯t have you more concerned,¡± he said. ¡°The Draconic part I mean. If someone who was related to the Drake tracks it back to you, well.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll know to curse myself instead of the world if some dragon picks me up out of the street,¡± I said. ¡°If that never happens? Then everyone is better off.¡±

    ¡°You did desecrate someone¡¯s corpse,¡± he pointed out.

    ¡°I¡¯ve also killed or tried killing multiple people these last few days,¡± I said flatly. ¡°While I¡¯m sure the Drake was a nice person when she was alive, I¡¯m not going to worry about the state of my immortal soul over it. Mostly because it¡¯s already heading to one place, anyway.¡±

    The illusion of silence reigned once again as the Ironworks filled the emptiness. Eventually, I started talking just to fill it.

    ¡°Have any of the staff been behaving differently recently? And your father didn¡¯t bring any outsiders in?¡±

    ¡°Oh, he grumbled quite a bit. I¡¯m sure if it wasn¡¯t Edward¡¯s life on the line, he would have said damn the consequences and hired people off the street if it meant having this fully staffed. As for any of the staff behaving differently¡­.well, Father decided not to tell people about the shape-changers.¡±

    ¡°Of course he didn¡¯t,¡± I muttered. ¡°It would ruin his party if rumors got out murderous shape-changers would be attending. Also a bit of a tip-off. Although we probably should give up on this being a surprise.¡±

    ¡°He has said there¡¯s a chance of Biosculpted infiltrators, so all staff are expected to stay in groups of three to four at all times. He¡¯s got half of the family guards outside the entrance to the third floor under strict orders to let no one in, even himself.¡±

    ¡°Any chance he¡¯ll let us look at wherever he¡¯s hiding your brother on the third floor?¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t even suggest bringing it up,¡± Gregory warned me. ¡°And don¡¯t try sneaking into the third floor. William, you¡¯ll meet him later, tried and well, he would have been shot if he didn¡¯t immediately recount an extremely embarrassing incident from his childhood.¡±

    ¡°By your father or the guards left behind?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Father himself. Although some of the guards may have as well.¡±

    Well, there was paranoia, and truth be told, trying something like that in such a tense situation was very dumb. Gregory¡¯s brother should have known better. But that deserved a chiding, not a potential bullet to the head. Not even Versalicci killed for the first mistake, unless he was well and truly convinced you would never learn.

    ¡°I¡¯ve heard of having favored children and black sheep,¡± I said, keeping my voice low so as not to be overheard. ¡°Having one favored so much you¡¯d shoot the others is insanity.¡±

    Gregory nodded. ¡°Some of my siblings would say that things with Father are complex. I¡¯d say his treatment of us is not actually that complex. Although something more than this is on his mind.¡±

    ¡°Hrrm?¡± That sounded like a complication that should have been brought up sooner.

    ¡°I have nothing concrete. But if this was just a threat against Edward? Sure, covert aim and means, but he would charge it like a bull. Instead, he seems near panic half the time.¡±

    A thought struck me. ¡°Has he been in the archives?¡±

    ¡°A few hours each day. Despite my offer, he insists that only he be allowed in the restricted stacks, and he¡¯s reconfigured the stacks again.¡±

    ¡°Reconfigured?¡± I asked.

    A very specific word to use, which could mean various things. But it sounded like the archives could be rotated and manipulated.

    ¡°Our library holds much in common with a machine,¡± Gregory said. ¡°If I say too much more, some folks with mighty large ears might take exception.¡±

    Message received. But there was a chance something in there had upset Lord Montague.

    I recognized streets now. It wouldn''t be long before we reached the Montague Manor.

    ¡°One last thing. Lady Karsin. I¡¯m assuming your father told her everything about the shape-changers?¡±

    ¡°I assume nothing with my father unless I¡¯m in the room to witness it,¡± he said. ¡°I know her son¡¯s been under tight lock and key in her tower ever since. Both to keep him safe and until she can tell if he¡¯s well, a shape-changer.¡±

    ¡°Unfortunately, there hasn¡¯t been any luck on that front,¡± I said. ¡°Can you get me something on her house¡¯s history?¡±

    ¡°I can try,¡± Gregory said, raising an eyebrow. ¡°It might not even be in the restricted stacks. Why?¡±

    ¡°Her son was targeted for a reason,¡± I said. ¡°I refuse to believe it was a trial run. It¡¯s too risky and runs too high a chance of spooking actual targets. No, her House is being targeted specifically, same as yours. Finding out why might help.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do.¡±

    The carriage stopped, and I was once again in front of Montague manor. Other wagons were here as well, supplies being funneled through the front door instead of the side entrances.

    I glanced at the roof of the estate, blinking. The dragon statue stared down, a puff of smoke emerging from carved nostrils till I let go of the Astral.

    ¡°Something wrong?¡± Gregory asked as he opened the carriage door. ¡°Nerves?¡±

    ¡°Please,¡± I scoffed. ¡°Everything that¡¯s happened? I think I can handle some high society.¡±

    One of these days, I would learn to keep my mouth shut.

 Chapter 53 - A Party to Remember I

    I¡¯d been forced to revise my judgment of William Montague being an idiot.

    Not because trying to sneak into an already forbidden floor of a house trying to find one of your siblings wasn¡¯t idiotic. But some allowances had to be made. I didn¡¯t know any fourteen-year-olds who weren¡¯t idiots.

    ¡°I never thought Father would actually do it, of course,¡± the fourteen-year-old told me, the scowl on his face deepening. ¡°But Lewins looked like he was considering it!¡±

    Right beside me, Gregory chuckled.

    ¡°Lewins wouldn¡¯t kill you, William, but he might have been tempted to,¡± he said. ¡°He probably was running every snide remark you¡¯ve made at his expense through his head. Weighing if blowing out your knee would be possible if he used the excuse of you being a shapeshifter.¡±

    You are one to talk, Gregory, I thought inside my head and only in there. As much fun as it would be, it wouldn¡¯t fit the mask I¡¯d crafted for tonight.

    ¡°You¡¯re one to talk, Gregory,¡± William Montague said, stealing my idea. ¡°You easily needle Father, Lewins, in fact, everyone three times more than I do. It¡¯s a wonder none of them have tried to kill you yet.¡±

    ¡°You must be mistaken,¡± I interjected. ¡°Why would anyone ever want to hurt Brother Gregory?¡±

    William rolled his eyes, turning to look over at his brother.

    ¡°How long has she known you, Gregory?¡± he asked.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been visiting the Temple of Tarver here in the city for about a week,¡± I said. ¡°I can talk for myself, you know?¡±

    ¡°Honestly, William, you read too much into things,¡± Gregory said. ¡°Sister Waters here is from the countryside, and I¡¯m just helping her acclimate to the city.¡±

    ¡°By inviting her to father¡¯s ball,¡± William deadpanned, his scowl turning into an expression far too close to contempt for my liking.

    ¡°That¡¯s my fault,¡± I said apologetically. ¡°When I overheard Brother Gregory talking about attending a ball and having a free one for a guest, I insisted. Do you know how many balls they have in the countryside, Lord William?¡±

    ¡°So it¡¯s lord for me and brother for Gregory?¡± William said. ¡°Huh, I guess me outranking you in this strange little hierarchy makes up for you and her referring to each other like that. Makes it creepy knowing what¡¯s going to happen later.¡±

    ¡°And what might that be?¡± I asked, and the strain in my voice wasn¡¯t entirely faked.

    ¡°Show you off as arm candy because it¡¯ll irritate Father, make everyone else uncomfortable, and then later doing the closest he can to an anim-¡±

    A heavy hand slapped William¡¯s back, driving the air out of the boy¡¯s lungs and sending him reeling forward.

    Behind him, a large bearded man in an army uniform gave him a smile that never quite reached the eyes.

    ¡°William,¡± the stranger said. ¡°Finally old enough that father is letting you out of your room in the evenings, eh? Last time I saw you, you were barely up to my knee.¡±

    He turned his attention to me and Gregory, warmth sprouting in those eyes. He came over, arms outstretched. Gregory seemed both happy and wary as who I presumed to be his brother hugged him, squeezing tightly. Eventually, Gregory begged to be let go before a rib cracked.

    ¡°Henry,¡± Gregory said once released from the bear hug. ¡°You¡¯re back already?¡±

    ¡°Came in yesterday on the Nover. It would have been earlier, but apparently, there¡¯s been some chaos on the docks recently. You doing well?¡±

    ¡°As well as I could be. This is Sister Danielle Waters from the church. Sister Waters, this my brother Captain Henry Montague.¡±

    ¡°A pleasure,¡± he said. ¡°I should probably go say hello to Father before William beats me there.¡±

    The youngest Montague had vanished, leaving only the three of us alone.

    ¡°Probably going to accuse me of hitting him in the back of the head,¡± Henry said as he left. ¡°We¡¯ll talk more later Gregory! And hopefully us as well, Sister Waters!¡±

    I gave a polite little wave as he left. His coming along had been nice but, unfortunately had not been a good test of my mask.

    Coming as Katheryn Falara in spirit was stymied by one thing in particular: a guest knew Falara, and I didn¡¯t want her putting any pieces together. So, another mask was needed, and I had one put together and on hand.

    Albeit one mainly constructed from the novels I¡¯d read, but I was an Infernal. They would be giving me side-eye anyway. As evidenced by William Montague. Danielle Waters would sit back and take verbal abuse. In theory.

    ¡°I do apologize for William,¡± Gregory said. ¡°Almost being shot must have leached all the politeness out of him.¡±

    ¡°Did it?¡± I asked with fake cheer that anyone overhearing would detect. ¡°Maybe that almost-bullet should have leached out his bile instead. Then again, it might have killed him if it did that. Clearly, venom has replaced his blood.¡±

    That got me a dirty look from a few servants. Ah well, Miss Waters wouldn¡¯t be living past tonight, so it''s not an issue.

    They had other things to pay attention to, as the rest of the guests should be arriving soon. Add in the lack of outside help and the guards stuck guarding the estate instead of helping. They should spend less time gawking at the Infernal and more time doing their jobs.

    Oh, Hells, I was taking the sides of nobles against their servants.

    Trying to drive that unpleasant thought out of my head thoroughly, I turned my attention to the manor''s interior.

    The main entrance hall stretched up all three stories to the main roof, the only interruption being the railings of the second-floor hallways that went all around the rectangle. Considering this doubled as a home, it was a bit strange, but apparently, all the rooms bordering the hall weren¡¯t for living in.

    Servants scurried about, most working on preparing tables and chairs while a twelve-person band prepared their instruments for the evening¡¯s festivities. The kitchen doors opened, carrying the strong whiff of food inside.

    Smelling that woke up the Imp.

    We head there first, it said inside my head. You have yet to feed me a single cow, and you can consider the entire banquet paying off the interest.

    I couldn¡¯t even guess how it knew about the concept of interest. The food would be later, and I¡¯d keep my portions sparse. I was not having people ask how I was devouring entire roast pigs.

    I¡¯d get the damn thing it¡¯s cows tomorrow. Dead, not alive. Live was the worst.

    ¡°It¡¯s a very open space,¡± I muttered to Gregory. The servants were busy. This place wasn¡¯t as crowded as it would be later. The mask could drop some.

    ¡°Only one entrance open, though,¡± he said.

    That would only help some. Forcing open windows or doors wouldn¡¯t be challenging, especially not for people who could force their way through cracks. The only saving grace is I could not see that process being fast. Or easy on anything.

    ¡°The guests will start arriving in half an hour. Anything you want to do till then?¡±

    ¡°Give me a tour, maybe?¡± I asked. ¡°I don¡¯t know if I¡¯ll ever be here again.¡±

    And maybe we could get to the third floor.

    ***

    In the end, we never even got close. I was back in the ballroom, attached at the hip to Gregory on the far side of the assorted Montagues here to greet their guests.

    It was a slow affair, not helped by a too-heavy-on-strings band playing a plodding tune as the majordomo announced each group with every honorific they could possibly have. Hopefully, things would liven up as the guests arrived and chatter began. And the food. And potentially the dancing?

    It would undoubtedly distract most of the party. I would not participate because the last five days hadn¡¯t spared much time for dancing lessons.

    We were on the outer edges, with Henry, William, and an uncle who looked at me like an overgrown lizard had wandered into his house, accompanied by a son who mostly seemed innocently curious in the way six-year-olds were.

    The female members of the family were on the other side of Lord Montague, including his wife, who seemed just a few years younger than both of Gregory¡¯s sisters. We¡¯d exchanged words, and she seemed more polite than her husband. Or step-daughters, who, while not being as blunt, seemingly considered me little more than a prop their brother had brought to needle their father.

    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    Maybe that¡¯s why there was a good eight feet of distance between us and Gregory¡¯s family?

    Occasionally, a guest would greet Gregory after the rest of the family. It was a mixed bag of older folks and his peers, most of whom had a strange case of blindness regarding me till Gregory introduced me by name.

    Going from the guest list, we were about halfway through as I listened to commentary from Gregory.

    ¡°Oh joy, it¡¯s the Melonones. She owes me money, and he wants me dead for something that was entirely out of my control. Their son once insulted my piano-playing abilities, and there is the little brat right now.¡±

    ¡°I am sad I haven¡¯t heard you play at the temple yet,¡± I interjected. ¡°It would be interesting to hear it at some point.¡±

    For a cleric of a god of bards, I hadn¡¯t heard a note out of Gregory. I was beginning to doubt he could play.

    ¡°Perhaps a private session in my room later?¡± He asked, loudly enough that William heard us and rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath. Not low enough to evade my enhanced hearing.

    ¡®Playing her like he plays his violin, and she¡¯ll probably be just as loud¡¯? I increasingly sympathized with Lewin and their near-shooting of William.

    ¡°Oh, that would be nice, but I was thinking more of a performance here. Maybe drum up some inspiration for the band,¡± I said, gesturing towards the musicians.

    It took effort for my eyes not to narrow as realization struck after that absent-minded wave. Was Lord Montague rich enough to afford musicians as part of his permanent serving staff? Whose word did we have to go on about no outside help being brought in besides Lord Montague¡¯s?

    Hells. And until the arrival of the guests was done, stepping away would draw attention. The guest¡¯s attention wasn¡¯t too important, not if we caught the changers, but if the changers suspected who I was, any suspicious moves might make them spring into action.

    Twelve of them? That many could probably kill everyone here. I did my best not to look directly at them. Nothing about them stood out, but that could just be because they¡¯d designed themselves to look that way.

    ¡°Diwei Xang, killer of the demon Trr¡¯Xxx¡¯Lll, descended from the same great Xang who helped out queen-.¡±

    My head snapped back as the Majordomo practically destroyed his throat trying to pronounce that name. He recovered quickly enough to start listing other honorifics as my aunt entered, her severe face already judging all of us lesser beings within.

    Perhaps I was being too harsh. She probably only considered those with horns lesser beings. Her gaze went my way, and I could see that deepening of her face. How many times had I seen that face as a child, just for the crime of being in her view? I gave a polite smile and a small bow, not quite reaching the proper incline I''d been instructed as for a child to show her respect, but deep enough so she could see all the modifications done to my dress.

    Let her be angry at either my seemingly ignorant disrespect or a dress of her prided culture having been mutilated at foreign hands.

    I didn¡¯t recognize my cousins, who had grown older, but their expressions were perhaps only a mite warmer. She¡¯d probably involved them in the family business despite a distinct lack of demons to kill.

    Their entrance did draw the guests'' attention, and several ventured over to greet her and talk as soon as she was done with Lord Montague. We weren¡¯t nobility, but descent from one of Her Majesty¡¯s companions and a known lineage of demon hunters brought perks.

    The majordomo cleared his throat as two familiar figures stepped through.

    ¡°Mr. Voltar and Dr. Dawes, detective, and author.¡±

    Well, it wasn¡¯t going to be very hidden what Lord Montague¡¯s opinion was, having that as their honorific. Why not announce you outright didn¡¯t want them here?

    If we¡¯d arrived later, I wonder what mine would have been. Maybe he would have left that to William.

    If it bothered my two erstwhile allies, it didn¡¯t show as they stepped in and immediately got mobbed to a greater extent than my aunt¡¯s family.

    I will admit, my demonic heart took a little joy in seeing aunt Diwei¡¯s expression at being upstaged.

    The two of them had been heading towards us before they¡¯d been swarmed, and I wished them luck trying to push through that crowd of curious nobility and upper crust.

    Another familiar figure entered the ballroom, and immediately the slow dirge turned into a faster-paced, more joyful tune.

    The urge to roll my eyes was overwhelming even as the Majordomo pronounced the newest guest¡¯s name and easily a couple of dozen honorifics.

    At this point I began to think Lord Montague was trying to destroy any possibility of a match between her and his heir.

    I nudged Gregory¡¯s hand as Lady Karsin stepped into the hall.

    He glanced at me, a little shocked, but I nudged him again.

    The best way to test the mask is exposure to someone who¡¯d met you under another.

    Of course, being the guest of honor in all but name, it took forever to reach Lady Karsin, who seemed to have Lord Montague glued to her side permanently.

    Much to the displeasure of Lady Montague, whose smile seemed more strained the longer her husband was spending next to Lady Karsin.

    By the time we reached her, Lord Montague had spotted us long ago, and his frown was well set.

    ¡°Gregory,¡± he said, tone warning. ¡°You¡¯re already trying my patience and now this?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry,¡± I apologized with faked nervousness. ¡°I kind of begged him to meet her. I am Danielle Water, an apprentice cleric in the Temple of Tarver. It¡¯s just¡­I¡¯ve never heard of an elf noble before. My apologies, your lady.¡±

    The curtsey I did was deliberately sloppy and did get an eye twitch out of the elvish noble.

    ¡°It is uncommon,¡± she said. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you¡¯d like to hear the story sometime?

    ¡°I¡¯d be very interested,¡± I said. ¡°But I don¡¯t know how often I can get out of the temple.¡±

    ¡°Yes, it¡¯s very strange,¡± she said. ¡°Actually, I¡¯m more than a little confused. Can¡¯t Infernals not channel the light of the divine?¡±

    ¡°Yes, of course,¡± I said, stammering. ¡°Well, technically not.¡±

    ¡°Gregory,¡± Lord Montague said warningly.

    ¡°It¡¯s alright, Bartholomew,¡± Lady Karsin said, staring at me intently. ¡°I can spare a few moments for what is clearly such an interesting aberration. You can channel the light of Tarver, then?¡±

    I met her gaze, a somewhat stunned, unconfident grin on my face. Whatever her involvement in this, she had to be wondering, had to be thinking about who I was.

    I held my palm up, and a small ball of light formed, faint music barely audible while beneath my flesh sizzled. Murmurs broke out among the crowd even as burn marks appeared on my skin.

    ¡°Yes, it just hurts a lot,¡± I got out before the ball of light vanished suddenly.

    Lady Karsin¡¯s expression was one of shock, matched by everyone else around us.

    ¡°Sister Waters,¡± Gregory said, recovering first. ¡°What did I tell you about doing that? Let¡¯s go aside. Let me see what you¡¯ve done to yourself.¡±

    I let myself get pulled away, closing my hand to keep my skin covered. And make sure nothing inside got spotted.

    Some people were too easy to fool. Illusion for the ball. Incorporating a heat projector in my hand for the warmth and some of the damage to my skin that resembled the divine burns channeled through the diabolic. A small tube running parallel to my vein, ready to poke out just a smidge at my wrist to carry the music playing from a box in my purse. Finally, small pockets of acid were waiting to be released and complete the illusion.

    Behind me were a few jokes about exactly what parts of my skin Gregory wanted to examine from the quickest recovering members of my impromptu audience, as well as a very confused Lady Karsin.

    Partial success. She was suspicious, but she didn¡¯t know for sure. And she wouldn¡¯t be thinking of possible ways I could have done that till later, at which point Danielle Waters was a finished identity.

    As I walked away, Lord Montague remained nearby, not succeeding too much at hiding his joy at our brief encounter.

    There were too many guests around, so I leaned into Gregory. He stiffened even as I tried to close the distance to his ear before whispering.

    ¡°Pretend that you¡¯re taking your newest ¡®friend¡¯ for a private discussion in a corner up on the second floor,¡± I murmured. ¡°In one just public enough to needle your father.¡±

    Gregory stiffened just a tad more as he glanced my way. I drove down the instinct to kick him over those obvious tells.

    Only a light kick, but the urge was there.

    We found a part of the upper floor balconies that none of the other guests had ventured up to yet. Just within view that if anyone was looking for us they¡¯d spot us in one of the four now isolated corners.

    Well, they¡¯d spot Gregory, and maybe part of me.

    I hadn¡¯t realized he would be this close, what was maybe a foot but felt like half. His hand went up against the wall near my head.

    ¡°So, you wanted to talk?¡± He asked.

    It was hard to focus with how close he was. Green eyes met mine and they were so large.

    ¡°Uh, yes,¡± I said before collecting myself. ¡°I think we can call this mask a success.¡±

    ¡°You know I was half-worried you got replaced by a shape-changer,¡± Gregory said.

    I idly looked down at the entrance hall below us. There were a few errant looks, amusement, and anger down there.

    No one paid enough attention to us that I needed to maintain the mask fully. He was leaning in enough, and lip readers would be stymied at this distance.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take that as a compliment,¡± I said. ¡°At the bare minimum, I think I firmly convinced the one person here I wanted to.¡±

    ¡°Lady Karsin?¡± Gregory¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Why her specifically?¡±

    ¡°Something is suspicious about her being targeted,¡± I said. ¡°But truthfully? She¡¯s probably the only person here who¡¯s both met me before and doesn¡¯t know I¡¯m here in disguise. I hope.¡±

    ¡°We didn¡¯t tell her. Father was certain she wouldn¡¯t show if she knew you were here.¡±

    ¡°Well then, I feel much more confident in my disguise for tonight,¡± I said.

    ¡°Or you could have asked me,¡± Gregory said. ¡°I feel like I¡¯ve had a stranger on my arm this entire time.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll have to endure. Listen. All the servant¡¯s entrances are sealed, correct?¡±

    Gregory raised an eyebrow. ¡°They should be.¡±

    ¡°And no one besides those on the guest list was supposed to get inside, right?¡±

    Gregory was quick on the uptake. ¡°There are more people inside than there should be, aren¡¯t there?¡±

    I nodded. ¡°If I had to guess, in servant¡¯s livery. Duplicating guests would be picked up on too fast. I tried finding out who the spares were, but the party is moving too swiftly, and there were too many people. We¡¯ll need spare eyes to try and spot the duplicates.¡±

    ¡°Or we focus on the servants,¡± Gregory suggested.

    ¡°It¡¯s a guess, not a certainty,¡± I said. ¡°They could be showing up as well, a generic group of the upper crust, counting on everyone else to assume your father knows them from somewhere else.¡±

    ¡°And Father remains busy monopolizing Lady Karsin,¡± Gregory said.

    ¡°Your brother is on the third floor, isn¡¯t he?¡± I asked.

    Gregory grimaced. It was impossible to miss this close. ¡°I heard him screaming from there this morning.¡±

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean he¡¯s still there,¡± I countered. ¡°And your father is acting far too casual about all of this. Were the musicians on the guest list?¡±

    Gregory frowned. ¡°The musicians?¡±

    ¡°Yes, the musicians. Unless your father employs twelve musicians just to play ambient music for your house.¡±

    Gregory¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°He wouldn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°He did. More headaches. Well, I suppose we¡¯ll have to deal with it.¡±

    Silence followed my statement and continued onwards as Gregory turned to examine the ballroom down below, then turned back towards me.

    ¡°You know, we will have to sell this little charade you¡¯ve purposely set up for us,¡± Gregory said, leaning in even closer, emerald eyes staring piercingly into my own. There were only inches between us now. His hand reached around, settling in the small of my back. His skin felt so smooth against mine, soft and untouched by labor. My traitorous tail reached up and looped around his wrist, keeping it there. ¡°I do wonder precisely why you picked this one?¡±

    Because it¡¯s how Lord Cabanash takes Lady Marla¡¯s first kiss in the starting chapters of- I cut that errant thought off. He gently pulled me closer and with each inch a heat bloomed in my chest, growing in intensity. This close, he smelled of violets. Hesitatingly I brought a hand up to grab the back of his head, fingers going through brown curls till they found skin. A second later his other hand did the same.

    ¡°Well,¡± I said, any flushed appearance on my cheeks definitely to sell the ruse and for no other reason. ¡°It needed to fit into something you should do, and something that wouldn¡¯t appear off to anyone below, needed a reason for us to get away from the party but not disappear because that would cause even more suspicion, and-¡±

    ¡°And I think you need to stop talking,¡± Gregory said, hand on my back gently pulling me into him. ¡°Don¡¯t you?¡±

    The fire inside me burst into an inferno. I could practically feel the warmth of his skin already as he closed the rest of the distance.

    ¡°Gregory!¡±

    I wasn¡¯t quite sure if I wanted to kill or thank Lord Montague.

 Chapter 54 - A Party to Remember II

    Kill? Kill.

    The lord of the manor was currently stomping his way halfway up the stairs, face red, mustaches vibrating as they had during our initial negotiations.

    ¡°It¡¯s bad enough you bring a Hellspawn into our house,¡± he yelled, and now every eye in the party was locked on the two of us only an inch away from each other. ¡°Now you decide to do unholy acts with her inside my house?!¡±

    With feigned embarrassment, I let go of Gregory, pulling back and trying to look in any direction that did not have an onlooker.

    I failed, my gaze eventually settling on Voltar and Dawes in the middle of a knot of guests. They¡¯d probably been listening to some account or another of the pair¡¯s adventure before¡­this.

    Voltar winked at me, and I was suddenly struck by a wish for the probable shapechangers in the band to start changing now. Maybe kill a few guests. Anything.

    Lord Montague was still ranting at Gregory, who was looking down at his father with an easy grin. His lordship had made it near the top of the stairs and, realizing from the silence that nearly everyone could hear him, had lowered his volume to merely loud.

    ¡°-embarrassment enough. I told you not to ruin this event.¡±

    The look from father to son was pure venom, more akin to looks I¡¯d seen from those outside the Quarter for daring to be out of it. It made me wonder again how light that banter between them actually was.

    ¡°Lord Montague,¡± I said quietly but firmly. ¡°This was not your son¡¯s idea.¡±

    Now, that gaze of venom was swung my way, but I refused to wilt under it. Perhaps his lordship saw too much of the mask.

    ¡°I don¡¯t care whose idea it was. I said not to ruin my event and my son publicly making out with you-¡±

    ¡°Would have sparked rumors and nothing more,¡± I said. ¡°A few people would have seen us, perhaps made some snide jokes at your expense, and it would have been overshadowed by your surprise invite of the Empire¡¯s greatest detective until you ascended the staircase, yelling at us and making everyone very aware of what was going on up here.¡±

    Being told off didn¡¯t precisely cool down Lord Montague, but perhaps not wanting to make even more of a spectacle kept him from blowing his lid.

    Every eye was still on us, and the noise of conversation down below was probably about what had us arguing with each other. I was keeping my own tone cool and my expression innocent, which may or may not be helping in dealing with the noble.

    His next statement dripped with poison but was at a conversational volume.

    ¡°I did not invite you here so you could make out with my son,¡± he hissed.

    ¡°And I did not come up here just to make out with your son,¡± I replied back. ¡°I noticed several potential holes in security. I wanted to discuss them with him, so we came here to discuss them so your guests wouldn¡¯t overhear. Speaking of which, does that band live on your estate?¡±

    The rest of the servants, supposedly, lived on the ¡®estate¡¯, which wasn¡¯t the manor itself but the surrounding buildings in the area. Lord Montague owned much of this square; part of that was servant¡¯s quarters. The little closed-off community was the closest thing to the security we had regarding infiltration before the party.

    The sudden question seemed to cut off Lord Montague¡¯s next statement, taking the wind out of his sails. ¡°They are from outside, but it was either this or the guests wonder why there was no musical accompaniment for the evening. This is a ball, Foulhorn. I¡¯m not going to tip off these shapechangers in any way.¡±

    I held my tongue. ¡°Whatever you deem best, your lordship. It is your event.¡±

    No use arguing what I suspected to be a lost cause. Giving me a suspicious look, Lord Montague began down the stairs. The other guests were beginning to take their attention somewhere else now that the show was over. Beginning to. Many still stared. Outright revulsions, amused bemusement, confusion, a range of emotions none of which I wanted to see.

    At least half still stared up here as if expecting Gregory and me to immediately resume where we¡¯d left off now that Lord Montague¡¯s back was turned.

    ¡°We should stay up here a while longer. It won¡¯t look suspicious if we stay up a while fearing Father¡¯s wrath.¡±

    I nodded mutely, considering the party down below. ¡°There are a few other things I want to discuss. We should probably stay within sight, though. However, I should get off this railing. Lip readers.¡±

    ¡°A more common pastime than one would expect,¡± Gregory said. ¡°There is a bench back there. Sitting down, people would still be able to see us.¡±

    I eyeballed it and silently agreed. We both walked over, sitting down a few inches apart from each other.

    ¡°We shouldn¡¯t tarry too long, but if anyone happens to glance up? I think one of us comforting the other after our little tryst being exposed like that might be in order?¡±

    Tryst implied much more than had become close to happening, but I didn¡¯t correct him. My lips quirked.

    ¡°You just want to find out what you just missed,¡± I accused.

    ¡°Not entirely wrong, but no. Do you mind leaning forward some?¡±

    I eyed Gregory, who simply smiled, eyes innocent. Too often, that meant a plot with me as the loser, but he wouldn¡¯t risk too much. Anything too far, and I¡¯d kill him before his father even got the chance.

    Sometime later, not as Danielle Waters. And not literally. I''d...think of something.

    I leaned forward, trying to rest my elbows on my knees and my chin on my clasped hands.

    His hands touched my bare shoulders, and I tensed up at the warmth.

    I¡­he was touching my skin. In public. At a party. In front of the nobility. What was he thinking?

    ¡°Relax,¡± he told me. ¡°You ask me to stop at any point, and I will. If I don¡¯t, I¡¯m pretty sure you can make me pay for it. So relax. It¡¯ll feel better.¡±

    I nodded, then breathed slowly. Eventually, my shoulders relaxed, and he began to knead.

    This was insanity. We¡¯d just caused a massive fuss by nearly locking lips, and now he had his hands on my bare back. Smooth skin pressed against mine, in full view of anyone who bothered to strain just enough to see. Maybe because he was a noble and I was a common-born Infernal this wouldn¡¯t be seen as bad? Not the same as nobles courting, so more acceptable? Is that what he saw it as?

    His fingers moved in circles, working on a spot and then traveling, and each time, it felt like that part of me had turned liquid. I breathed out. Something that had been tense and unyielding for so long was finally given a chance to let go.

    ¡°Are massages part of what clerics of Tarver are taught?¡± I whispered, trying to let the tension ease out of me as his hands worked.

    ¡°No, but some things you pick up in learning about others,¡± Gregory said.

    Small bits of pain spiked across my back but quickly faded as he kneaded. It felt like anything he put his hands on unraveled after he worked on it.

    I kept my head low, not looking up. My body was beginning to feel so loose, but my mind was feeling anything but. Were people staring? Were they judging? Seeing the Infernal so easily turning into putty in a noble¡¯s hand?

    A new thought entered as his fingers traveled lower, going across my shoulder blades.

    Did it matter?

    My tail wrapped around the wrist of his right hand, insistently pulling it lower. There was a knot on my lower back, just beyond the edge of the fabric.

    ¡°I heard a rumor that these have minds of their own,¡± Gregory said as he let his hand get pulled to that spot. ¡°Any truth to that?¡±

    ¡°Some,¡± I answered as the sensation of relief traveled. ¡°Depends on how much responsibility we want to claim over them at that moment.¡±

    ¡°Do you want to lie down? Face down, head over the side of the bench? It¡¯ll make it easier for both of us.¡±

    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    An agreement almost passed through my throat before I had a chance to think.

    ¡°That¡¯ll take me out of people¡¯s sight and the position is perhaps a little compromising.¡±

    ¡°I doubt anyone is going to think that after Father chewing us out,¡± he said. ¡°But we can just stay like this if you want.¡±

    I considered it for half a second, then began to move on the couch. He got off, giving me space as I lay across it, before kneeling down beside my prone form.

    He traveled down from my shoulders to the extent of my bare skin. The dress left practically the entire half of my upper back open, and he worked on making every bit of tension there disappear.

    A couple of minutes passed as my upper back turned to liquid, putty in his hand. I let myself lie there, slowly lulling off, but I forced myself to stay awake.

    ¡°We should probably discuss business,¡± I said, beginning to rise.

    ¡°There¡¯s no reason we can¡¯t do both,¡± Gregory said, hands continuing to massage my back.

    Yes there was, which is that he was being terribly distracting when he did that.

    ¡°Best to have our minds fully focused,¡± I said. ¡°But thank you.¡±

    We went back to the railing, and this time, no one stared at us. A few idle glances but it seemed our time in the spotlight had faded.

    No one had been staring at us to begin with. The little massage session had gone unnoticed.

    Already, partygoers were either in their own cliques or forming around one of three groups: the Xangs, Voltar, or Lady Karsin.

    Two of those were easily explained. My family¡¯s connections to Her Majesty¡¯s group of allies to overthrow Her Most Profane Majesty, and Voltar¡¯s sleuthing adventures. Lady Karsin was the special guest of honor, so anyone wanting to curry favor with Lord Montague would consider her an in-road.

    Something caught my eye, or rather, the lack of something except for the two at the entrance.

    ¡°I¡¯m surprised there are fewer guards in sight,¡± I murmured. ¡°I know your father wouldn¡¯t want to scare any guests off, but where are they?¡±

    ¡°Most of them are distributed among the outer rooms,¡± Gregory said. ¡°That room you and I talked in? Calab and two others are in there throughout the entire night.¡±

    ¡°He has enough guards to cover all of them?¡± I asked.

    ¡°When the archives are sealed, and he can¡¯t move the people guarding that? Yes.¡±

    I didn¡¯t pry any further. Not about the archives, at least.

    ¡°How long ago was that arranged?¡±

    ¡°A few days. You suspect something?¡±

    ¡°Something changed from then till now,¡± I muttered. ¡°He¡¯s not worried anymore. Not about the shape-changers. He called this event off, had to be talked into starting it anew by Voltar, and then something made him decide to tear down his security. Has your father been alone since I and Voltar visited?¡±

    Gregory subtly stiffened next to me, and his expression turned pensive. I couldn¡¯t resist anymore. I lightly nudged him with my elbow.

    ¡°What?¡± He said.

    ¡°Please control your expression more. People are watching. But on topic, your father?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s when he¡¯s in bed, but if they¡¯ve changed her as well,¡± Gregory said, expression growing grim as he looked at his stepmother.

    I nudged him again. ¡°Don¡¯t travel too far down that road. You¡¯ll drive yourself insane with the possibilities. Let¡¯s take from that we can be reasonably sure he isn¡¯t one.¡±

    Gregory sighed, taking his gaze off his parents and looking at me instead.

    ¡°We should rejoin the party,¡± Gregory said. ¡°I think we¡¯ve done sufficient penance up here, and people will start to talk if we don¡¯t return.¡±

    I didn¡¯t want to go down, but he was right. There was only so much to observe from up here, and it would look suspicious after a while. I moved back, only for Gregory to stay on the railing.

    ¡°What?¡± I asked, cocking my head to the side.

    ¡°You know, eventually, this is going to be over. Not the party, but this business with shapechangers, poisonings, and mysteries.¡±

    Oh. He was talking about¡­this. Telling me not to get my hopes up?

    ¡°It will be,¡± I said carefully. ¡°All things do come to an end, or so they say.¡±

    ¡°Yes, well. At the end, I just wanted to let you know my door is open. And my window, if you prefer doing it that way.¡±

    My breath stilled as I looked into those far too innocent-seeming eyes. How much should I read into that? How much could I read into that?

    He was, I realized, waiting for an answer.

    ¡°I might wander in,¡± I said, trying not to turn beet-red. ¡°From time to time.¡±

    "About all I could ask for,¡± he said, then offered me his arm. ¡°Miss Harrow?¡±

    I accepted his arm, and we descended back to the party while I tried to sort through what had just been said.

    This was beyond just teasing and mild flirting. I¡¯d arguably initiated that almost-kiss, but what happened after had been him.

    Was I just a girl of the week? Something exotic to pursue with a personal connection that he might feel pity for? Something else?

    My tail, to my horror, was trying to reach and wrap around his arm. I forced the traitor limb back behind me, not deviating a centimeter closer to him.

    To our right, the band was still playing, and I eyed them all in a single glance. They appeared normal.

    ¡°Can¡¯t you look at them on the astral?¡± Gregory murmured.

    "If I could do that, this would have been solved far before now,¡± I replied just as quietly. ¡°Things on different planes like the celestial may be straightforward, but the arcane is all metaphors and symbolism at the best of times. At the worst of times, it¡¯s utter nonsense.¡±

    At least for people who existed in the material. When dealing with spirits, spells, and other things of magic you could tell what you were looking at most of the time.

    ¡°Or maybe that¡¯s just your interpretation,¡± Gregory said. ¡°Maybe you just don¡¯t have the right mindset.¡±

    ¡°How about you explain why you were a giant sunflower then?¡±

    ¡°My sunny disposition?¡±

    Most of the guests were keeping a decent distance from us, although we were getting plenty of glances. Mostly scandalized looks, which I did my best to ignore.

    ¡°And just when I thought my reputation couldn¡¯t sink lower,¡± Gregory mused as his own gaze looked upon those keeping a careful distance from us.

    ¡°Sorry about that,¡± I muttered.

    ¡°I¡¯m joking,¡± he told me. ¡°I¡¯ve done it before. I¡¯ll do it again.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d wager not with an Infernal, though,¡± I replied.

    ¡°You¡¯re half-right,¡± he said. ¡°Incoming.¡±

    My mask went back on. The approaching group was a cavalcade of noble youths my age or younger, most of them already acquainted. They were their own little knot, being stared at with disgust by most of those in attendance. They seemed to be a rowdy bunch. Oh, and half of them had fake horns. Some of them had fake wings. A couple had fake tails. Red-dyed hair.

    If they weren¡¯t indulging in some moronic dragon costumes, I was stuck once again on the side of nobles who stared at me with even more venom.

    The ringleader, Kalrivers, a young man with black hair cut nearly to his scalp, did not. But that easygoing grin and the way his gaze fixed on me made me feel even less safe.

    The topic of conversation was predictable.

    ¡°It¡¯s been nearly two weeks without some stunt by you, Greg,¡± Kalrivers said. ¡°Have to say, it¡¯s a bit dull by your standards. We were expecting something more grand.¡±

    ¡°Well,¡± Gregory said. ¡°I can¡¯t take credit for this one. The entire thing was Sister Waters''s idea.¡±

    I stilled at that sudden throwing of me to the wolves as the group¡¯s attention swung my way.

    ¡°It uh, it seemed like a good idea at the time,¡± I said nervously. ¡°I could not begin to tell you what made it pop into my head.¡±

    ¡°Maybe you read it somewhere,¡± someone who¡¯d been introduced as a baron¡¯s daughter with red streaks and what better not be fake horns in her hair said. ¡°I know I sometimes draw inspiration from the books I read.¡±

    ¡°Unfortunately,¡± said the man on her arm, sparking a swift argument. Gregory rolled his eyes, then frowned as a servant came up. She whispered in his ear something about a disruption being done at the table requiring his attention, and he left.

    Which left me alone with the gaggle of young nobility. And the first two minutes made it clear those costumes were Infernals, not dragons.

    There were far too many questions about being an Infernal. Had I eaten a baby? Had I danced naked in honor of the Hell Lords? Was it true all Infernals were secretly diabolists? I heard from my brother that you can use your tail like a man. I heard from my sister that the insides of your hooves are an erogenous zone. Was it true female pink-skinned Infernals tried to eat their partners after sex? Have I ever been to the Hells? Did I know any succubi or incubi? Was I descended from an incubi or succubi? That last one was asked eight times!

    Then two girls who were clearly older and younger sisters in full fake Infernal garb came up and asked if they could touch my tail.

    Danielle Waters was a people pleaser. Not the aggressive kind. Very submissive. Why the hells had I picked her for a ball I was attending with Gregory Montague?

    ¡°I¡¯d prefer you did not touch my tail, please,¡± I said, and immediately both were stroking it.

    It didn¡¯t feel bad. It felt good, which made the sense of wrongness even worse.

    ¡°If you could please let go,¡± I said, suddenly finding out the press of people around me made it very hard to escape these two.

    ¡°It¡¯s not hurting you, is it?¡± The younger one said, stroking it even further. "Oh you have a cute bow on it, I think I saw something like that at a rural fair we went to."

    ¡°That¡¯s beside the point. Please let go. For your own safety.¡±

    The older one grabbed it halfway down in a grip that was just loose enough that calling her out would feel impolite.

    ¡°Please let it go,¡± I said, looking around for any opening out of this sudden nightmare. Do not hurt these idiots. This, this was temporary. Just bear through it. Roasting someone alive from the inside with diabolism was forever.

    I looked for any way out, but there was nothing, only more grinning faces wearing fake masks. Masks they didn¡¯t deserve, dressed up because they could pretend. I couldn¡¯t. Nothing but grasping hands.

    Someone grabbed one of my horns, pulling.

    The entire free length of my tail swung, ramming into the older sister¡¯s cheek and sending those stupid fake horns flying as the sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed.

    ¡°I am so sorry,¡± I exclaimed while the other one removed their hands from my tail like it had burned them. ¡°Involuntary muscle responses, it¡¯s what I was trying to warn you about. Are you okay?¡±

    The older one seemed unable to respond, a welt forming on the side of her head where my tail had slapped them.

    There were a lot of angry expressions around me suddenly. Three larger youths were moving closer while most of the pack moved the two girls away from me. The largest one glowered down at me as he stepped forward, easily double my weight.

    I was surrounded by a barricade of angry, scowling faces covered in red makeup and fake horns. Was anyone outside willing to help me? Dawes, Gregory, Voltar? Could any of them even see me?

    The largest one opened his mouth when suddenly Kalrivers spoke up.

    ¡°It¡¯s unfortunate, but you were trying to warn them, weren¡¯t you?¡±

    That caused a collective stumble among the group, eyes flickering to the black-haired social leader as he went off the script the rest had decided on.

    I¡¯d been thrown a lifeline. I¡¯d take it.

    ¡°Yes, I just wasn¡¯t able to get a word in. I am sorry about this. I could heal the wound?¡±

    Surprise, no one wanted the Infernal getting near the wounded noblewoman. They all backed off, leaving me with Kalrivers.

    ¡°Tell me Miss Waters, are you Gregory¡¯s alone or would you be interested in perhaps attending some future balls with others?¡±

    That was¡­very blunt. The Hells was with this small knot of nobility.

    ¡°I am my own woman, is what I¡¯d say first,¡± I said firmly. ¡°And that this will probably be my only incursion.¡±

    ¡°I guess not,¡± Kalrivers said. ¡°You picked a rather boring one this time, Gregory. I suppose this one isn¡¯t of succubi or incubi lineage?¡±

    My smile turned glacial.

    Gregory had handled the disruption and had just returned, his own icy expression fixed on Kalrivers.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Even if I did know, I wouldn¡¯t say. Some people have things called manners and decency, Arnold.¡±

    Kalrivers snorted. ¡°Fair enough. Miss Waters, what -¡±

    "No to both,¡± I said. ¡°But please, do ask other Infernals that question my lord. Or ask them so bluntly to sleep with you. The world could do with a laugh.¡±

    And a set of fangs latched around your neck.

    "Come on,¡± Gregory said, gingerly wrapping his arm around my shoulders. ¡°The staff has started serving the appetizers.¡±

 Chapter 55 - A Party to Remember III

    I couldn¡¯t remember the last time I¡¯d had chocolate.

    Sometime in the district, when the Black Flame had reigned supreme, which meant the shite bars from Hollans and Martel, where the cocoa powder was cut with all matters of substances as long as it meant more bars with less money.

    This was the real deal as I nibbled on a bar, letting the taste spread through my mouth with tiny bites. I just needed anything to keep my mind off of that.

    That would come up sooner or later, I thought, from the awkward silence of Gregory next to me and how he was trying not to look at my tail.

    I¡¯d gathered my tail up, most of it bunched up in my lap, my free arm resting on top while my other one kept the supply of chocolate going. It pulled slightly at where it connected to the rest of me, but that didn¡¯t matter. It was safe.

    It shouldn¡¯t matter. A bunch of noble brats playing the rebel. Stupid questions. They¡¯d gotten lucky because if this had been the district, they¡¯d be trying to ask their stupid questions out of slit throats.

    Gregory apparently decided he should speak up first.

    ¡°Sorry about that,¡± Gregory said. ¡°Another of Kalriver¡¯s friends accused me of something I couldn¡¯t have physically been present for. He considers himself a rival to me and made a play at trying to get you. Back to the second floor?¡±

    Made a play for me. Those words were not comforting in any aspect.

    I lowered the chocolate bar and chuckled, a tinge of nervousness on the edge of it. ¡°I think your father would kill us if we even tried walking to it.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t care about that,¡± Gregory said. ¡°I must say, you are once again wrecking my impression of you.¡±

    ¡°A good mask at work.¡±

    ¡°Sure. Your acting is very good. However, if you tell me all of this evening has been an act, I¡¯ll call you a liar. But I¡¯m just wondering, where is the Malvia Harrow who confessed about having a fling with a boy she had dick-kicked only years beforehand?¡±

    Oh, Hells, he was referring to Daniel. That was on me for bringing him up during that trial. That pang of irritation inside me was growing larger though.

    ¡°She¡¯s still here,¡± I said. ¡°Just keeping her head down and keeping in mind that she has a role to play.¡±

    ¡°You seem a little shy for even keeping your head down,¡± Gregory said. ¡°Even beyond the act, this seems a bit demure for you. I wouldn¡¯t expect you to get embarrassed over what they were saying.¡±

    Shy. Shy. I rolled that word around in my head a few times. This, this is what he wanted to talk about?

    ¡°There¡¯s a difference between doing things in the privacy of one¡¯s room and in public,¡± I replied. ¡°Especially when most of those people staring already are ready to believe the worst things about you and are already judging you in a way you weren¡¯t. Especially that last group of people!¡±

    Gregory¡¯s eyes widened slightly, and I glanced to either side. No one had taken notice. Good.

    ¡°They got under your skin a lot more than I expected.¡±

    "They openly propositioned me just based on the fact that I have horns and a skin color that¡¯s considered hellish,¡± I snapped back. ¡°Let¡¯s not even discuss how half of them were dressed up as Infernals, or that damn girl with my tail, or how they would have all gone for my horns next if given half a chance. What in the Hells was that?¡±

    Gregory was silent for a bit.

    "It¡¯s a bit of a trend,¡± Gregory said. ¡°While not to the point any of them would be daring enough to have an Infernal as their guest. Want to stick it to their parents, the transgressive nature, forbidden fruit, etc. Dressing up as Infernals. They even have a ranking list based on Infernal lineage.¡±

    ¡°¡­the status of the devil the bloodline was influenced by?¡± I ventured.

    ¡°No, the type of devil. I¡¯ve had to sit through some of these discussions, and you would not believe how much some of them want to find an Infernal who descended from a succubus or incubus. The fantasies get very involved.¡±

    ¡°They should just go to a brothel then,¡± I hissed. ¡°That kind of thing has no impact on anything.¡±

    They made me prefer those who could barely hide their contempt or clumsily cover their assumption. One thing for certain, I was going to keep my own lineage even more of a very closely guarded secret from this point onwards. Just the part of it I thought the least important out of all of them.

    ¡°Not a fan of the idea, I take it?¡± Gregory asked.

    ¡°People discuss the lineage of horses for races and how well they will perform,¡± I replied. ¡°I¡¯m not thrilled over the idea of people asking me my lineage so they can figure out how good of a lay I¡¯ll be.¡±

    Gregory winced. ¡°I can see why that would be-¡±

    ¡°Demeaning,¡± I interrupted. ¡°Yes. So was stroking my tail. If they do it again-¡±

    ¡°They won¡¯t,¡± Gregory assured me, which I regarded skeptically. ¡°We¡¯ll stick away from them. They try it, and I¡¯ll ward them off. They get their hands on you, well.¡±

    I let out a guttural sigh, trying to force as much emotion out as I could. ¡°If you¡¯ll be there. Which you weren¡¯t. They were lucky, you know? So you better make sure you are there next time because if one of them lays a finger on me or asks me if my tail is as good as their boyfriend¡¯s cock. Five minutes. An empty room. They won¡¯t be able to do it again.¡±

    ¡°What exactly do you mean by that?¡± Gregory asked me, expression as sober as I¡¯d ever seen it.

    Of course, it was. I¡¯d threatened nobles.

    ¡°You left me there,¡± I said. ¡°You could have brought me with you, but no, you left me there with them. Did you think that would end well?¡±

    "I thought,¡± Gregory paused, looking across the ballroom to where Kalrivers and his ilk had gathered, then looked down. ¡°I guess I didn¡¯t think. I knew what they were like, but it always seemed harmless¡­it¡¯s a new one each year. No. Nothing excuses it. I¡¯m sorry, Malvia.¡±

    I breathed in, breathed out. He¡¯d apologized, which wasn¡¯t nothing. More than some. More than most, thinking on it some more.

    ¡°Apology accepted. But please stop using my real name here. You said a new one every year? Do they change this stupidity up?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a passing trend based on what¡¯s caught their imagination and what they think is the most taboo-breaking they might be willing to stand. Two years ago it was the Keltish. Last year, it was the fey. I thought that would teach their successors not to mess around in things like that, but apparently, I was wrong.¡±

    A guest was nearing us now, so the mask was being slammed back on.

    ¡°A story of the fey Lord Montague?¡± I said with cheer. ¡°You must tell me! We hear stories about them, but I¡¯m pretty sure the only one I ever thought I¡¯d seen was just a very colorful insect.¡±

    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s made its rounds quite a bit and is so dull to repeat. And I could hardly tell it in front of the brother of one of those directly involved. Charles! Feels like it¡¯s been ages since we last saw each other! Miss Waters, this is Charles Daven, nephew to Count Daven and fourth in line to a minor lordship out in Chalkford.¡±

    ¡°It was two weeks ago, not ages,¡± the new arrival said, a mutton-chopped noble who couldn¡¯t have been more than a few years older than Gregory and me. ¡°Baron Malton¡¯s ball. We traded a few words while you were on your way out, being chased by the Baron and his two sons.¡±

    ¡°Oh my,¡± I gasped. ¡°Whatever reason could a baron have for chasing after a gentleman like Lord Montague?¡±

    Charles Daven glanced my way and, in a second, dismissed me as anything worth paying attention to. It was infuriating, but ultimately, what I was going for. At least it was over personality and not the horns, but either didn¡¯t endear me to him.

    Then again, I didn¡¯t need to be endeared. I needed them to be fooled.

    ¡°Many a reason, I¡¯m sure. Where did you dig this one up, Gregory?¡±

    ¡°Sister Waters is here from the countryside,¡± Gregory answered. ¡°The temple has entrusted me with teaching her about the city and educating her regarding life here.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m learning an awful lot about the kinds of people here,¡± I said brightly, taking far too much glee in Gregory wincing at the statement. ¡°So your sister was involved in this story, Lord Daven? Tell me, what did she do?¡±

    Fey trickery could be malicious, and right now I was in the mood for malicious stories about foolish nobles.

    ¡°We shouldn¡¯t really discuss it,¡± Gregory said. ¡°It¡¯s his sister, it¡¯s a touchy subject.¡±

    Oh, so this needed the lightest touch involved, then? Why, because it was nobles the subject of discourse?

    ¡°No, tell the story,¡± Daven deadpanned. ¡°Teressa was an idiot who ultimately paid the price of her own utter stupidity. If she doesn¡¯t enjoy being married to William Carter, maybe she shouldn¡¯t have enjoyed sleeping with a physical copy of him.¡±

    Oh, it was going to be one of those stories, wasn¡¯t it.

    ¡°Fey trickery?¡± I asked. ¡°I thought they crafted illusions, not shapechanging.¡±

    Some could. That had actually been a hypothesis tossed around between I and Voltar. In the end it had been discarded. Fey were too individualistic and lacking in discipline, and would have preferred a far lighter touch to our shapechanging suspects. The possibility was always there but the appliance of cold iron to Hawkins hadn¡¯t caused his shapechanging to collapse.

    ¡°This was a particularly powerful fey,¡± Gregory said. ¡°A Fox-tailed creature who seems remarkably unconcerned about the cold iron of the city.¡±

    Wait. A kitsune had been here?

    ¡°Interesting,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of this kind of fey. So, according to your story, this was part of a fad involving nobility. What was the fad?¡±

    ¡°Utter stupidity,¡± Daven repeated. ¡°At first, it was just, to quote my sister, ¡®You can¡¯t believe what it¡¯s like, the fur and the tail and the ears.¡¯ It sounded like the ravings of a lunatic. Then the fey revealed she could shapeshift and was willing to take requests.¡±

    ¡°Requests?¡±

    ¡°People for her to shapeshift into before having sex. It started with just other members of the group they had crushes on. Then it started expanding to well¡­anyone. It all kind of went to the Hells, no offense, when Duke Yalmen¡¯s youngest grandson got caught fooling around with what appeared to be Her Majesty at first glance.¡±

    My jaw almost dislocated itself. ¡°Oh¡­oh my. I never heard of this.¡±

    ¡°Which points to the efficacy of the clean-up,¡± Lord Daven muttered. ¡°If you weren¡¯t directly involved with the noble families involved? You heard nothing. The newspapers know, but they also know if they print anything they¡¯ll find themselves without any offices soon enough. In the end, the only remotely productive thing to come out of it were the marriages, mostly based on which pairings had the most evidence still floating about that could possibly resurface.¡±

    ¡°Evidence?¡±

    ¡°The fox fey was either a voyeur or a blackmailer. Or both. There are pictures, and no one can be sure if all of them were found. Honestly, most of those involved got off lucky. Marriages, not disinheritances.¡±

    ¡°Is the fox fey still around?¡± I asked.

    The chance of a kitsune being behind this¡­I wasn¡¯t sure. My knowledge was stories as a child, some of which had been light-hearted, others had been not. Unfortunately, the only ones who¡¯d told me those stories were either in a coma or in this ballroom, but I could hardly ask them.

    ¡°No idea,¡± Daven said. ¡°My sister and her little group have of course, stopped seeing it.¡±

    ¡°Ask Voltar,¡± Gregory said. ¡°If anyone knows, it¡¯s him.¡±

    Maybe he was the Kitsune.

    The same servant from before was approaching us again, and I did my best not to glower. What had happened was not even remotely their fault.

    ¡°Lord Gregory, someone is requesting you at the front door,¡± the servant said. ¡°You might want to meet them before your father gets word.¡±

    ***

    We went out the front door, past the assorted carriages whose drivers would be inside, probably playing cards till it was time to take their charges home.

    Malstein stood near a Watch carriage at the end, looking around for anyone. No one was directly by the estate, although some late-night pedestrians were looking at us, curiosity piqued.

    Satisfied there was no one close enough to overhear, Malstein turned to me.

    ¡°Someone wearing your face assaulted three members of the Watch just a few hours ago,¡± Malstein said.

    Well, there went my reputation again.

    ¡°Well, I suppose we should have seen that coming,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m already the one with the record, so it would be the easiest to frame me. I¡¯m just shocked they didn¡¯t do more before this. I already have a new face on-¡±

    Malstein shook his head. ¡°You misunderstood. Someone with your current face assaulted three members of the Watch two hours ago.¡±

    Oh. That meant a changer was among the staff. ¡°And you know about this because?¡±

    ¡°Some lieutenant and a squad of Watch are currently trying to force their way past the cordon here. Someone gave a tip that you could be found here.¡±

    ¡°Can you stall them?¡± Gregory asked.

    ¡°I can. But that was just the first group to arrive. There¡¯s a second claiming to have a warrant from Colonel Hickens for me on charges of corruption.¡±

    Oh, joy. ¡°Watch politics or the Changers?¡±

    ¡°Changers. I know Hickens, and while we don¡¯t see eye to eye on many things, trumped-up charges aren¡¯t his preferred tactic. I can¡¯t delay dealing with this any longer.¡±

    ¡°Appreciated, Captain.¡±

    Malstein nodded, then turned around, heading off to the cordon.

    I drummed my fingers nervously. They had the Watch distracted now, but why? Sure, they might eventually remove Malstein and his unit from keeping a loose screen around the manor, but that had never been to keep anyone out. It had been for catching anyone trying to flee when things did kick off. But they¡¯d sent a hint that they were going to start things early off.

    It took too much time, and Malstein could likely find the real Colonel Hickens, who presumably hadn¡¯t signed that warrant. Or he had been fooled by evidence given by someone else being impersonated.

    ¡°We need to get inside and organize a search for as much of the estate as possible,¡± I said. ¡°This is the time. They¡¯ll strike soon.¡±

    ¡°Surely it would be easier for them to remove some of us from the estate entirely before moving?¡±

    ¡°Maybe, but that¡¯s a risk. The longer it stretches on, the more chance that someone they¡¯ve impersonated clears up the mess. And impersonating a colonel of the Watch means a lot more attention.¡±

    Even a corrupt officer would want anyone who impersonated them taken care of just for drawing attention to them. People would be looking into anything you¡¯d done just to try and figure out how long the impersonation had been ongoing. Then their best hope would be blaming the shapechanger for whatever did surface.

    We both headed back inside to the party.

    ***

    Going inside, the party had migrated to the tables entirely. Servers were bringing the food out, which sent the Imp jabbering inside my head.

    I ignored it as I spotted one of the servers heading back into the kitchen. Recognizing her in a server¡¯s uniform instead of a guard took a second. But unless Calab had a twin sister, she¡¯d just headed into the kitchen, serving tray in hand.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t you say Calab was going to guard the room where Edward used to be?¡± I asked Gregory.

    ¡°Her and a couple of others. But if we have a leak in the manor staff, they¡¯ll know that Edward is on the-¡°

    ¡°Not the point,¡± I interrupted. ¡°How often are they being checked on? Because I swear I just saw her leaving through a door down there.¡±

    His eyes widened.

    She¡¯d already disappeared behind the door, and we were quick to follow.

    ***

    ¡°Has Calab been down here recently?¡± Gregory asked one of the servers.

    The group shook their heads.

    ¡°Could be the changer already changed,¡± I said.

    ¡°Could be you didn¡¯t spot her,¡± Gregory replied.

    ¡°And yet I did.¡±

    Gregory looked around, face paler than normal. ¡°If the staff are being overworked, Father could have conceivably had some of the guards drafted to make up for the deficit. Most of them can do the job well enough to suffice.¡±

    ¡°While your brother is being threatened?¡±

    Gregory hesitated. It was understandable. The alternative was not something pleasant to think about.

    ¡°Let¡¯s check the room where she was stationed,¡± I said.

    She could still be alive. Conceivably.

    ***

    The room had changed since I¡¯d visited. More furniture had been moved in. The bed was moved out. Now, a tea table dominated it. Cabinets were pressed up against the walls. It was empty.

    I smelled blood. From the cabinet, which was maybe two foot by three. Hells. Shapechangers were strong, and if they didn¡¯t want anyone to notice the dead¡­ideally, you¡¯d have transport for the bodies, but if they were running this quick and dirty, the very temporary would do.

    I opened the doors of the cabinet. Behind me came a choked gasp.

    Calab had been shoved inside, bones snapped, and skin ripped to fit inside. Her eyes stared lifelessly at my own while blood pooled at the bottom, spilling out onto the floor beyond. The skin had scraped where pushed against the edges of the cabinet, shoved in with no thought or care. Just shoved inside in the hopes it would keep her hidden. A forearm snapped off at the elbow and fell out onto the carpeting.

    I didn¡¯t try any of the other ones. Gregory or someone else would know the faces.

    I just hoped the changers were still wearing those faces.

 Chapter 56 - A Party to Remember IV

    We needed to get this place locked down fast. But looking over my shoulder, something needed to be done first.

    Gregory was pale. All color drained from him as he stared at the body of Calab. I shut the door, cutting it off from sight, and he shuddered.

    ¡°I know it¡¯s horrific, but we need to move,¡± I said. ¡°And unless we want to start everyone questioning whats going on, I need you to look calmer. Gregory?¡±

    He mutely nodded, which was a start as I moved him out of the room.

    Damnations. This was not the time for him to freeze up.

    ¡°How many people would be going up and down this hallway?¡± I asked as we moved out of the room.

    ¡°No one,¡± he replied tonelessly. ¡°This entire area is supposed to be off-limits to guests and servants, and the guards aren¡¯t supposed to leave. Do you think she was alive when-?¡±

    ¡°Best not to think on it,¡± I said. ¡°So they¡¯d probably keep the group size to a minimum not to be heard. Unless¡­.let¡¯s check the adjacent room. Quickly.¡±

    Gregory moved almost as if sleepwalking. The next door opened to reveal a pair of guards at the table, looking up from their game of cards. I sniffed the air, trying to tell if there was any scent of blood in there as well.

    ¡°Lord Gregory?¡± One asked, reaching for a pistol while looking at me suspiciously.

    ¡°No need for weapons,¡± Gregory replied shakily. ¡°Just checking on the perimeter. There might be intruders in the house.¡±

    ¡°Did you hear anything from the next room?¡± I asked, taking another sniff. No blood. I still continued opening up furniture, keeping an eye on both of them the entire time.

    The guard looked quizically over to Gregory, who nodded.

    ¡°I heard a bit of noise a while back, so I went over to check it out. Calab had knocked over a chair. We talked briefly. She and her group had nothing to report. They seemed alright.¡±

    ¡°Calab is dead,¡± I said bluntly. ¡°We found her corpse shoved into a cabinet, the others in there as well. You talked to a shapechanger.¡±

    The guard¡¯s expression blanked. ¡°I¡­what.¡±

    ¡°Go, check the next room: you and your friend,¡± I said.

    By now, I¡¯d opened all the furniture, so these two were unlikely to be Changers. Merely unlikely.

    We¡¯d made it to two more rooms in our quick examination by the time the first guards had returned, and it looked like the word was traveling quickly.

    ¡°We need to get this organized,¡± I told Gregory. ¡°They¡¯ll listen to you, right?¡±

    ¡°They should,¡± he said back. ¡°Unless Father gave them orders not to.¡±

    Well, that was a possibility we¡¯d have to risk.

    ¡°I¡¯d suggest barricading all entrances and exits besides the main hall,¡± I said. ¡°We should pull what guards you have back at chokepoints along the halls. Concentrate around the ballroom and any entrances to the second and third floors.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s only the one,¡± Gregory said. ¡°Do what she says. If any other member of the family tells you no, ignore them. Ignore me if I tell you no and I¡¯m not with Miss Waters here.¡±

    That did the trick, and by the time Gregory and I started heading back to the ballroom, the word was being spread.

    ¡°I hope this is the right call,¡± Gregory told me.

    ¡°It¡¯s the least bad call,¡± I said. ¡°At this point, we¡¯ve been infiltrated. The best way to handle this is to limit how far people can travel inside the manor and start setting up security protocols. That should have been done from the start, but now is fine.¡±

    Two guards stuck with us, and they would guard the bottom of the stairs. Returning to the ballroom, the party was still in the dancing phase of the evening, the band playing a waltz.

    Luckily, Lord Montague was not on the dance floor, standing away from the dancers and talking with an elderly gentleman in an army uniform, whom Gregory had mentioned as a family friend. Colonel Cuthbert.

    ¡°We¡¯ll go fetch my father. Mr. Voltar and Mr. Dawes as well if you can do it circumspectly,¡± Gregory told one of the guards.

    ¡°Nothing about that is circumspect,¡± I said. ¡°Before we go down to your father¡¯s crowded ballroom, guards in tow to drag your father and the others upstairs, let me suggest something else. You and I quietly let them know what¡¯s going on.¡±

    Although going down with Gregory might cause a fuss all its own. His color was back some, and his expression was no longer horrified.

    Instead, he looked angry, as if he might have tried to bite into anything that disturbed him. He¡¯d been so composed in other situations, but the corpse had probably unbalanced him more than anything else could.

    I took the lead on heading down the stairs, leaning into him as we began the journey,

    ¡°The latest book you read, what was it? Plot summary, your opinions, anything about it you can recall.¡±

    The question startled him a little, his head turning to look at me.

    ¡°I¡­what?¡±

    ¡°Trust me. Book, summary, opinions. Latest one.¡±

    ¡°Uh,¡± his gait slowed as he thought about it. ¡°Envy and Inevitability by Matilda Vanell.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve read the latest Vanell?¡± I asked. ¡°It¡¯s not out for another month!¡±

    ¡°You read Vanell?¡± he asked, the corner of his mouth twitching before sprouting into a grin.

    ¡°Well, some of my patients have mentioned it,¡± I started. ¡°Maybe I¡¯ve read a few chapters¡­.a few books¡­her entire catalog since she started six years ago. That is beside the point. How do you have an advance copy?¡±

    ¡°Miss Vanell is a very close friend,¡± he told me. ¡°She likes getting feedback, so she lent me a copy of the manuscript the last time I visited her.¡±

    Very close friend? I¡­.my brain would fry if I thought about that too much.

    ¡°Do you still have the advance copy?¡± I asked.

    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    ¡°Yes, and maybe I¡¯ll even let you borrow it without spoiling any of it,¡± he teased me.

    By the time we reached the bottom of the stairs¡­well, he still looked haunted, but maybe we could sell that as a very brutal rejection from me?

    As we walked towards where Lord Montague was talking, we passed by the band, and I paused for a moment.

    It was worth a shot despite what I¡¯d said to Gregory earlier. I blinked, opening my vision to the astral.

    Alright, there was something more than mere warding going on. This many swirling emotions in one place should be a lure to spirits large enough that some would worm through too small for most wards to stop. Small things, barely capable of thought moving about, created by and being fed off the emotions in the room. Instead, things were merely blurry instead of the cavalcade of different spirits that should be whirling through here.

    It did make it easier to spot the band.

    I had no idea why the band leader looked like a caricatured version of Lord Montague outside of maybe a recent argument with the man. The joined-together nature of the two violinists might be far too much information on their personal lives, and the cello player¡¯s horns were at least more realistic looking than those lackwit nobles from before.

    Getting to Lord Montague was not a problem, at least.

    ¡°Lord Montague!¡± I said loudly and cheerfully enough to get a scornful glare from him immediately. ¡°Sorry to bother you, but¡­.¡±

    ¡°Lord Thallier is upstairs,¡± Gregory said in a mock whisper. ¡°Passed out drunk at one of the liquor cabinets.¡±

    ¡°Thomas is here, Bart?¡± Colonel Cuthbert said. ¡°You should have told me! I¡¯d have helped keep him away from the booze, at least.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know myself, Charles,¡± Lord Montague said with a forced smile. ¡°I¡¯ll go make sure he¡¯s alright. Be back in a few seconds.¡±

    ¡°Take your time. I¡¯m in no hurry to get back to the wife.¡±

    I was going to wait till we reached the second floor to start the conversation, but Gregory started when we were barely halfway up the stairs.

    ¡°Calab is dead, Father,¡± Gregory said. ¡°We found her body shoved inside a cabinet. The two in the room we were keeping Edward in as well. They are here.¡±

    Lord Montague¡¯s expression turned sour. ¡°You¡¯re certain?¡±

    ¡°We can show you the bodies, but it seems morbid,¡± I said. ¡°We checked the surrounding rooms, and the number of dead seemed to be only those three. They pretended to be her group till they reached the ballroom. The one who replaced Calab was wearing a servant¡¯s uniform, so they¡¯d managed to change clothes by now. Hopefully not by killing someone for them, but we may find more bodies before this is over.¡±

    ¡°Can you find them?¡± Lord Montague asked.

    ¡°Maybe. One was still wearing Calab¡¯s face while in a serving uniform, so there might be some limitation on the changing.¡±

    I had no idea what it might be. Every Changer we¡¯d encountered so far hadn¡¯t seemed too restricted on what they could change into.

    ¡°We could always call the ball off, Father,¡± Gregory suggested.

    ¡°No,¡± both I and Lord Montague objected simultaneously.

    We glanced at each other in surprise, and after a second, I let him get out his explanation first.

    ¡°Immediately noticeable. If these creatures have infiltrated the ball, and their ability to fight is anything like what Voltar has claimed, letting them know they¡¯ve been discovered could lead to a massacre.¡±

    ¡°Pretty much where I was going,¡± I added. ¡°We already have a good idea who the target is and where they need to go to get there. For right now, closing off entrances seems the best bet. Gregory, we should check the kitchen. If they¡¯re disguised as servers, we can at least try to get a headcount.¡±

    ***

    The hustle and bustle of the kitchen was a racket I didn¡¯t need as I stood on the outsides, observing a veritable army of servants running around.

    ¡°I think asking them to stand still might give the game away,¡± Gregory observed.

    ¡°You aren¡¯t wrong,¡± I said, observing that despite the heat from the kitchen, I could feel a light chill on my skin. ¡°But we have more important issues.¡±

    Rounding a corner from the kitchen entrance revealed an open door, a pair of guards standing outside.

    ¡°I thought all other entrances were closed?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re supposed to be,¡± he said, gesturing to one of the servers. ¡°Tala, why is the servant¡¯s entrance still open?¡±

    ¡°Someone has to bring in supplies for the kitchen somehow, Lord Gregory,¡± she replied. ¡°Your father said to keep it open and assigned Garret and Miles to keep it guarded. Why?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re just dealing with some potential thieving problems,¡± Gregory replied too casually.

    Far too casually, given the skeptical expression on Tala¡¯s face.

    We headed outside, Gregory waving to either Garret or Miles while I considered the night sky.

    Some stars were visible, but not many between the smog and the lights down here. Even the single moon out tonight looked a little waxy as I breathed in the chill air, enjoying the solitude.

    That swiftly ended.

    Inside the ballroom, the noise of the party made it hard to pick out specific sounds. I hadn¡¯t had enough time to adjust to enhancing my hearing, but out here in the square, I could hear much more clearly.

    Breathing. A lot of it. Small motions, the sounds of people shuffling about, all of it from the wagons lined up outside this entrance. Far too much to just be the drivers. Worse, the sound of metal.

    ¡°Gregory, maybe we should go back inside,¡± I said calmly. ¡°Discuss this with these folks outside of the cold? I¡¯m going to start freezing my fingers off.¡±

    That got a quizzical look from Gregory but he nodded, and soon us and the guards were on the other side of the entrance.

    I shut the door, working the locks to secure it as best I could.

    ¡°We need some furniture to slow them down,¡± I said hurriedly. ¡°How many windows are there on the ground floor?¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Gregory asked.

    Behind him, one of the guards made one of the universal signs of a crazy person and mouthed a word I wished I could make him regret.

    ¡°I adjusted my hearing before coming here,¡± I told Gregory flatly. ¡°And it¡¯s a good thing I did. There are people in those wagons and far more than just the drivers. When did those wagons get here?¡±

    Once again, I was stuck waiting for a guard to seek non-verbal confirmation from Gregory to even bother answering one of my questions.

    ¡°About half an hour after the prep work started for the party. Dalian came out to meet them.¡±

    Well, it sounded like we had our leak in the staff.

    ¡°Dalian?¡± I asked.

    ¡°One of the assistant cooks, should we question him?¡±

    ¡°No time. We need to get to the ballroom now,¡± I said, already on the move, Gregory behind me. Hopefully, those guards would start barricading the door.

    ¡°If they had this many changers, they would never have needed to use Pure Bloods for muscle,¡± I said. ¡°Which makes me think it¡¯s Pure Bloods out there. Why? I¡¯m not sure. A distraction, a contingency? Not sure. But whatever it is, it needs to kick off soon. If they wait too long, Malstein will get things sorted, and the Watch will be ready to jump on their heads.¡±

    Which seemed off. As a distraction, it was far too much overkill for what was needed. Oh, we knew they¡¯d be coming and they knew it was a trap, but it wasn¡¯t a trap you handled by hitting it with a hammer.

    ¡°We underestimated them,¡± I told Gregory. ¡°A distraction is one thing, but this doesn¡¯t feel like an infiltration. They know the trap exists, but instead of going quiet, they¡¯re going loud. Which doesn¡¯t make sense.¡±

    ¡°Why not?¡± Gregory asked. ¡°It sounds like they¡¯ve fooled every last one of you.¡±

    I forced down the pang of irritation at that statement. ¡°Because the person leading them has until now been extremely risk-averse. Catspaws, keep themselves in the shadows, setting any blame for what might happen to land on third parties instead of themselves. They underestimated the people they wanted to use as pawns, but the overall plan was one to put as little risk on themselves as possible. Be as quiet as possible. Arranging for a supremacist gang to attack a ball hosted by a human noble? That is not quiet.¡±

    Maybe if they¡¯d given up entirely on replacing Edward Montague, but the infiltration of the three shape-changers made me think there was still something in here they wanted. We entered the ballroom again, the waltz coming to an end. Pairs were leaving the dance floor and I felt a minor pang of irritation. Had this not happened, if I had asked, would he have said-?

    Best not to let ideas like that distract me. More important things at hand to handle first.

    ¡°We find your father, and Volt-¡±

    I was cut off by screams.

    One of the guards yelled out a warning, raising a revolver. A trio of bullets punched through her throat and chest, blood spewing across a grey uniform as she went down. The other managed to fire his, adding another gunshot to the rising cacophony of screams from guests. He went for his saber only for a pair of assailants to charge him, taking him down and stabbing him with knives, eyes and throat first.

    I froze as the assailants forced their way past the gates, easily a dozen in a second with more behind them. Most were carrying sabers and old flintlocks, a single revolver. Those behind them had fewer sabers, more daggers and clubs and other improvised weapons, less in common with street gang and more with the dregs you¡¯d pick up from the street.

    Because it wasn¡¯t Pure-Bloods swarming through the gates into the ballroom, fleeing guests and servants ahead of them while Lord Montague yelled behind me for guards.

    It was Infernals.

    ¡°If you know what¡¯s good for you, you¡¯ll lay down any weapons right fucking now!¡± The one in front yelled, wearing an aged and tattered army uniform with a ragged patch of a black flame and goat¡¯s head on their shoulder. ¡°We¡¯re the Black bloody Flame!¡±

    A half-dozen possibilities went through my mind, but part of me stayed on task. I grabbed my revolver out of my purse and in a single practiced motion, put a bullet through his knee.

 Chapter 57 - A Party to Remember V

    The lead Infernal collapsed, hands wrapping around the wound as it spurt blood. Not a shape-changer. That was disappointing on a few different levels.

    His scream made the entire group halt, heads swivelling towards me as I pulled the hammer back on the revolver.

    Firearms were discharged on both sides as I ducked back into the hallway, grabbing Gregory and pulling him in with me. Bullets passed through the empty doorway, ricocheting off the wall and sending splinters flying.

    Gregory yelled, only barely audible over the cacophony

    More than three guns fired, the continuing drumbeat of gunshots echoing as I went back into the ballroom. The fake Black Flame were rushing forward, only a few of them with guns that were finishing their volleys. Most of them carried trash, old greyhairs and young ones, the tattered army uniforms on people who looked like they served two decades or more past. Most of the rest didn¡¯t look ready to shave. That or like they¡¯d never had a decent meal in their life, even if the food was cut with cement and sawdust like some of the canneries and meatpackers did.

    Someone had trawled the desperate and the destitute for an army and had sent them to die.

    Guests were on the ground screaming, some of them not moving at all. Daven was trying to stem a tide of blood gushing out of someone else¡¯s throat. Others were less lucky as a stampede headed towards the stairs, stopping the guards who had come from making their way down.

    Infernals were dropping as well. Some guards fired pistols from the second floor down into the rush below.

    Not all of them. Some slumped over the railing, but the initial wave of gunfire was over, a few stragglers firing bullets in either direction.

    ¡°This is a distraction,¡± I told Gregory. ¡°There¡¯s nothing this lot were going to do but cause a panic and maybe harm a few people down here.¡±

    He didn¡¯t ask for any clarification, already running towards where his father had taken refuge, along with many guards at the top of the stairs. They were already heading deeper inside the second floor.

    More guards must have come in while I¡¯d been in the kitchen area. A few were at the bottom of the stairs, dead or dying.

    I rushed towards them, revolver firing once more.

    The lead Infernal, a red-haired lad with a bit of stubble, screamed as the bullet went into his bicep. The dagger in his hand went to the ground, and the others around him dove down as I pulled back on the hammer again.

    My other hand reached into a hidden pocket on my dress, tossing it at the floor. The liquid inside burst alight as soon as it was exposed to the air, spreading as the vial smashed into the floor.

    Not much fire. Enough to buy a precious couple of seconds.

    I scooped up a saber from the ground, the dead guard¡¯s blood still on it. It was longer and heavier than I was used to, but it would do.

    Only a little time now. Fleeing guests were already completely past me, some fleeing from me. Some still tried to make it to the second story. Others fled into the first-floor doors leading deeper into the estate. The vanguard of the attackers was nearly upon me, a loose, disorganized line.

    No training among this lot. The uniform wearers were reloading guns. That would help some. I just needed to keep myself from being swarmed. As much as it burned to be defending some of these people and to kill the ones in front of me, I didn¡¯t have much choice.

    There were two possibilities. One was that this was another Shape-changer trick. More people tricked into doing their dirty work.

    The second was that they were Black Flame. That Versalicci was working with the Changers or pursuing his own angle.

    Either way would not make me hesitate. I could only try not to kill.

    ¡°Fucking traitor!¡± One of them howled, charging forward with a club.

    ¡°Like this is helping?¡± I asked, parrying the oncoming blow.

    My unease with the saber was helped by my opponents'' lack of competence. The fucking changers had likely just scooped up whoever they could find in the Quarter that was willing to take money for this.

    Tensions would be high after the marches, so they wouldn¡¯t lack in takers.

    My counterstrikes struck at the arm, cutting at tendons and forcing him to drop the club. A musket fired from up above, and his eye exploded as the bullet went through his skull.

    No time to think. Just buy time. Most were scattering through the ballroom, with only a few heading for the stairs. The fighting didn¡¯t go well for them. With the saber I had the reach advantage, and most of them were trained in stabbing unsuspecting opponents in alleyways. A couple more bullets to take out the ones with their own swords.

    I was just buying time, fending off blows before retreating a few steps with every break in the fighting. Taking my swings where I could. Most of those failed to find flesh but it kept them cautious.

    Aunt Diwei charged down the stairs, the nearly fifty-year-old moving like a woman twenty years younger as her dao sheared through the head of an Infernal who couldn¡¯t be older than twenty. She stopped with the blade halfway through his head, removing it with an effortless motion.

    Magic weapons.

    Then she spun around and swung it at me.

    ¡°Could you not?¡± I yelled as my saber barely intercepted the dao, the impact nearly taking the blade out of my hand. ¡°I¡¯m on your bloody side!¡±

    The magic weapon bit deep into my saber, slicing through the blade and taking the top quarter of it off.

    A fake Black Flame member tried to take advantage of the distraction, rushing with a knife at me, wiry little arms holding it as her face snarled, not even fully grown.

    I blocked their blow and aimed a revolver at her knee. I pulled the trigger, and her knee shattered as the bullet blasted through, and she dropped to the ground.

    Aunt Diwei paid me no mind, heading forward followed by her children. The Hells was her problem?

    Maybe a fifth of the Infernals had gone down. They still outnumbered us all, easily six or seven to one, but they were more cautious now. This wasn¡¯t a cakewalk. People were getting hurt. And I seemed to be the only one not going for deaths.

    Run, I thought as I pulled the hammer back, pretending a bullet was in the empty cylinder as I looked among them. Hesitation was there. It just needed a push. Run.

    More screams again, this time from the side.

    I glanced to see the door leading to the kitchens spewing out more Infernals. Damnations. Of course, the ones in those wagons hadn¡¯t made it to the ballroom faster than Gregory and I. Two angles of attack.

    Three, actually, as windows shattered on the other side of the ballroom. I went that way, striking at a half-emerged Infernal moving through the window.

    I took two down, tendons severed, bleeding, but was forced back.

    I locked sabers with my next opponent, her off-hand one drawing back to swing at me.

    My tail stabbed with its dagger, a weak, easily parried blow. My opponent looked down, spotted it, and reacted accordingly. The sword came down to intercept it, sending the dagger flying from my grasp.

    That was fine. It is what I wanted her to do.

    I lunged forward, knee moving to hit her arm and keep her sword from moving. I latched onto her throat with my teeth.

    Yes, Yes, Yes, YES! The Imp yelled inside my head.

    I bit, teeth cutting through skin, through muscle before closing in on each other. The taste of copper flooded my mouth as I pulled back, skin and flesh tearing as pointed teeth sheared through it. Cartilage crunched between them. My opponent collapsed, gurgling as blood poured out of the ruin I¡¯d made of her windpipe, eyes wide and pleading.

    I turned my head, ignoring it as I drove my saber into her chest. Hopefully, I¡¯d hit the heart.

    I spat a mixture of flesh and blood across the floor.

    NOOOO!

    That was probably another cow to be eaten.

    Two more on me. I tried to scoop up the dagger with my tail but failed before one swung a short sword at me. My saber parried, and my other hand dropped the revolver, trying to grab a dagger from a concealed pocket on my dress.

    I didn¡¯t reach it in time as the second Infernal stabbed at me with a dagger. I twisted, and the needle-point dug into my forearm instead of my wrist.

    I gritted my teeth as it sliced, piercing skin and ripping free as I fell back. There were more even behind those two, and only my retreat kept me from being surrounded.

    An incomprehensible yell heralded Gregory¡¯s arrival as he charged in, a saber wielded in two hands, striking one of my opponents in the side. The Infernal withdrew, screaming as he turned his attention to the nobleman.

    I stabbed the other one, then tried to follow the two of them as Gregory struggled, even less skilled at this than his opponent.

    He parried a blow sloppily. Gregory¡¯s saber nearly fell from his hands, and another Infernal drove a dagger into his upper arm, blood straining the white sleeves of his shirt.

    His original opponent cackled.

    I rammed the saber¡¯s hilt guard into their jaw, sending them reeling back as a tooth flew out. It left me open as someone¡¯s hoof lashed out, catching me in the shin. Slivers of pain crawled up my leg as I moved to Gregory¡¯s side.

    ¡°Gregory, scorch them,¡± I hissed as I parried another one.

    ¡°It¡¯ll hurt you,¡± he protested, trying to stop a second blow, then yelling as the force wrenched it from his hands.

    They were focusing on us now.

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    The guards had formed a loose perimeter, the Xangs anchoring one side while keeping the kitchen passages sealed. We¡¯d been forced from the stairs to the side, and no one looked particularly interested in risking their necks trying to reach us.

    At least they¡¯d shot the gun-wielders before a second volley had started.

    An Infernal in a tattered uniform rushed forward, snarling. I parried their first blow, my shortened saber awkward in my hands. A dagger in his second hand went for me and my tail parried. He pressed me, and when I was stuck parrying with both weapons he lunged forward, mouth opening.

    I tried to grab his head but I missed as teeth sank into my shoulder. I bit my tongue as he bit into my shoulder, teeth slicing through my dress and into flesh. My hand spasmed, dropping the saber as teeth stabbed deeper till I felt them scrape bone.

    I screamed, punching once, twice. He didn¡¯t relent and I could feel tips punching into bones. Something began to crack.

    A gunshot rang out and suddenly the pressure released and I choked out a sob as he fell down, teeth tearing at skin and carrying pieces of me with him as he fell.

    ¡°Fucking do it!¡± I yelled at Gregory, scooping up the saber, and then two more were on me. They were getting bolder.

    Parrying only worked so long. Swings with the heavy saber were harder for them to stop, and even as more of them joined the attack, I scored several wounding blows.

    Just not enough.

    A club struck my sword hand as I blocked another blow, and I howled as it felt like my fingers shattered. I dropped the blade as another one stabbed toward me. I caught it, the middle of it piercing my palm all the way through and forcing me back even further, right up to Gregory.

    ¡°Now!¡± He screamed, and I closed my eyes and dropped.

    Not fast enough.

    A sound like an orchestra arose behind me, radiant and loud as it blasted overhead.

    My back and my arm felt like they were melting. I bit my tongue, blood flooding into my mouth to stop a scream as I fell to the ground. The heavenly music faded, mixed with the sound of sizzling flesh as I writhed.

    One of my hands went to a hidden pocket, pulling out a vial I forced to my lips. The pain eased, no longer overwhelming as I breathed, tears streaming down my cheeks from the pain.

    A hand touched my back, and I groaned as pain flashed across me. I tried to moved, only for everything to hurt before I could even get a hoof underneath me.

    ¡°Malvia, are you alright?¡± Gregory asked me, eyes wide. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I did my best not to hit you.¡±

    ¡°Potion,¡± I forced out. ¡°Hip pocket, right side.¡±

    Seconds passed in agony before I felt something being pushed against my lips. Someone tipped my head back and I gulped down the liquid as it came in. Feeling began to return to me, more with each second, agony fading in equal measure.

    It was still a full minute before I even began to move.

    ¡°Sorry, I tried not to hit you,¡± Gregory said, helping me up. ¡°It still hit your back.¡±

    I looked at my arm, where blue skin had been burnt crimson, and did my best to ignore my pain as I rotated my neck. It seared and hurt, but I¡¯d had worse, even as I glanced at the red, burnt flesh stretching down the backless part of my dress.

    It had probably been worse before the potion. Wasn¡¯t that a happy thought to have. I turned my attention back to the ballroom.

    Only to find no oncoming rush. No fighting. No Infernals moving at all, instead charred bodies lying about, some of them still moving and twitching about, mixed with an occasional wide-eyed injured but unburnt Infernal lying on the ground. The rest were charred husks.

    I shivered. They¡¯d made their choices, so I could only feel so sympathetic as I looked for any remaining fake Black Flame.

    I found none.

    I whistled as I let my gaze go over the entire ballroom. Had he hit any of them who¡¯d been above waist height? Do not underestimate Gregory Montague, indeed.

    ¡°How long have you been holding that in your pocket?¡± I asked, bumping him with my uninjured shoulder, an easy grin on my face. ¡°You have anything else in there, perhaps?¡±

    Seconds passed with no response as he looked at the ballroom, seemingly not even noticing me.

    The grin faded off my face. I¡¯d said something wrong.

    ¡°There, uh, should be more still coming,¡± I said less confidently.

    Gunfire from outside. The Watch had finally arrived. Well, never mind then.

    Several nobles were staring at me with a mixture of confusion and fright that was rather nice, especially on those wearing fake horns.

    Aunt Diwei was busy withdrawing her dao from the throat of some poor soul on the ground. Another pocket of the dead, dying, or injured lay scattered where she and my cousins had gone to work. Now, though, she walked towards me, halting a few feet away.

    ¡°Who are you?¡± She asked me with a calm but insistent force.

    I gave her a grin, being careful not to open my mouth. Blood-streaked teeth would be too provocative.

    ¡°A guest of the Montagues,¡± I said. ¡°Nothing more.¡±

    Cousins were circling: Fang, Chen, and An. Setting up a loose square around me.

    ¡°You stink of the Diabolic,¡± Aunt Diwei said, her grip on her sword tightening.

    I didn¡¯t move my head, even as I could hear the tread of my cousins just out of sight. Close.

    ¡°If you wish to judge me for that, you can put me in your custody,¡± I said. ¡°As citizens of the Empire, it is your right. You might be disappointed by the results you get.¡±

    Aunt Diwei¡¯s mouth tightened, a word coming from it she probably expected no one besides her children to understand. Fubai. Corruption is a word I was too used to her tossing as an accusation when I was young.

    ¡°Not quite,¡± I said cheerfully. ¡°In either sense, I¡¯d argue. If you want me to surrender, I will, but again, you¡¯ll be disappointed.¡±

    Screaming started, coming from the upper floors. I turned around, past Fang¡¯s scowling face and Chen¡¯s more serene expression. The stairs didn¡¯t lead all the way up, but parts of the third floor were visible. I could see the shadow of something hulking in the lamplight up there as the sounds of gunshots resumed.

    ¡°Your talents might be more needed up there-?¡± Aunt Diwei was already moving past with a scornful look, her family right behind them. The Watch was on the move as well, leading to a traffic jam on the stairs as every single guest suddenly wanted to head back down the stairs. Diwei started barking orders that no one but her family could understand; most of it consisted of various aspersions on the guests'' characters.

    Well, this might have been one too many clues to give, but if she figured it out, there wasn¡¯t much I could do. I wouldn¡¯t be wearing this face tomorrow anyway.

    Gregory moved closer while I rechecked my arm. The redness was fading, not very fast, but obviously much faster than letting nature take its course.

    ¡°We should head outside,¡± I said, already moving towards the door.

    It took him a second to catch up, taken off-guard.

    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we head upstairs?¡±

    ¡°The esteemed Diwei Xang, her children, and most of the watch are already heading that way,¡± I noted. ¡°We will be going for where our prey will be leaving.¡±

    ***

    Outside the manor was a skirmishing ground. Occasional groups of Infernals were scattered about, trying to find routes out of an ever-increasing cordon of Watch. Only the chaos gave them any opportunity, and most failed to take it.

    I ignored that for now, looking up at the manor''s third floor and roof.

    ¡°Will they take a window out?¡± I asked Gregory.

    ¡°They can try, but they¡¯d fail. Honestly, I¡¯d hoped they¡¯d try to take one in. The rooms don¡¯t have any doors.¡±

    I chuckled. ¡°Point to your father. That¡¯s one way to keep people off the third floor.¡±

    Ideally, no windows would do the same, but perhaps there was a trick to trap people in those rooms after they got in? That left our shapechangers with one other potential entrance or exit. They could always try to force a wall, but that was a gamble, and people tended towards the path of least resistance.

    ¡°We¡¯re still heading up then. Can you climb up a rope?¡±

    Not that Gregory was bereft of muscles, I thought, eyes lingering on his shoulders. But that didn¡¯t necessarily mean the ability or experience.

    ¡°Pretty well. Hopefully, I set a decent enough pace since I imagine you¡¯ll want me to go first?¡±

    Why would he think that? He inclined his head down at me, and I looked down quizzically at my dress-ah right.

    The dress was ruined as well. Bloodstains, cuts in the fabric where it had been cut and stabbed, I was actually lucky that it was still hanging onto me.

    ¡°I¡¯d appreciate it,¡± I said. ¡°Damnations, this dress is ruined. I¡¯ll have to apologize to your friend, and sorry about wasting your money.¡±

    ¡°It was money well spent,¡± Gregory told me with a hint of his usual vigor.

    I smiled. ¡°You seem better?¡±

    ¡°Better?¡±

    ¡°You were shaken up some back there,¡± I said.

    Gregory opened his mouth but was stopped by two members of the Watch running towards us.

    ¡°Tommy, Amna,¡± I said, waving a greeting before grabbing the grappling hook.

    ¡°Harrow,¡± Amna said, halting hesitantly a few steps away, hand on her pistol.

    Not drawing it yet, at least.

    ¡°What the fuck do you think you¡¯re doing?¡± Tommy asked, his pistol already drawn. ¡°What are you even doing outside?¡±

    ¡°Hopefully, wasting my time,¡± I answered. ¡°If not, taking care of some uninvited guests, in which case I¡¯d appreciate you following us up.¡±

    I tossed the hook, aiming for the rooftop while the both of them kept wary eyes on me. I suppose threatening to kill Tommy had left some ill will there.

    ¡°Malvia, you have blood essentially coating your chin,¡± Gregory whispered to me.

    I touched my chin with my fingers, and they returned wet and red. Right, biting the throat out.

    ¡°Time is a wasting,¡± I said. ¡°As the only person here with a skirt, I hope you all don¡¯t mind if I go up last.¡±

    ***

    Luckily it didn¡¯t take too long to climb, while the screaming and sound of gunfire continued inside. Once I reached the top, I noticed some unwanted followers on the rope below us.

    Four Infernals going up the rope I¡¯d left dangling off the hook. Truth be told, I was leaving it there for any further members of the Watch. How many from the Quarter had been paid to join this fool¡¯s errand?

    I considered calling to the others, only for my mind to go to the floor full of corpses inside.

    I pulled out my knife and then held it out far enough that they could see it before starting to saw through the ropes. They got the message quickly, making it to the ground before I¡¯d finished carving. I sliced through the last of the fibers, letting it drop.

    ¡°Everything alright?¡± Amna called.

    I gave her a toothy grin that made her pale. Right, blood.

    ¡°Everything is going fine, just making sure no one can follow us up,¡± I said.

    Turning to the rooftop itself, I clapped my hands together. ¡°Well, this is simpler than expected.¡±

    Two chimneys dotted the roof, brick ones thankfully only extending eight feet from the ground. Large ones, too, with overhangs large enough for us to stand on. Large enough to make an easier climb down as well. Several fireplaces must be connected to each, and probably heaters. Lamps dotted the rooftop, providing plenty of illumination. Another anti-thief measure?

    I¡¯d expected more, and we¡¯d barely be able to see it. Some good luck for once.

    ¡°There¡¯s two chimneys, so two pairs,¡± I said. ¡°Gregory, if you wouldn¡¯t mind going with Tommy? Someone capable of magic should be at either one. Do you need a grapple?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll be fine without. Chimney¡¯s more craggy than my cousin¡¯s-¡°

    Whatever part of his cousin¡¯s anatomy Tommy had been about to mention was interrupted by Amna¡¯s elbow to his gut.

    ***

    I got to the top of our chimney just in time because, looking down, I could see something moving down there.

    I waved at Amna, still climbing below me, and she dropped, running off towards where Tommy and Gregory were. I reached inside my dress.

    Fitting vials in the hidden pockets had been an issue, even with the number of hidden pockets Aedelia had added, there were limitations, especially on size. So potency was the key, especially with the little mixture I had in my left hand while my right went for the dagger I hadn¡¯t used in the fight in the ballroom.

    As dangerous as it had been, other Infernals didn¡¯t justify venom from an Ethereal Ghost Asp like Shapechangers did. I hoped this chnager enjoyed having their veins frozen and their bones incapable of moving.

    The entire time the figures below got closer, while the sounds of fighting also came up, screams, roars, and gunfire.

    The first figure squeezed through, arms grabbing the side of the chimney as they pulled themselves up.

    I kicked as soon as their face entered the light.

    I kicked their head as hard as I could with my hoof. It snapped back, a scream of pain coming from them.

    The rest of their body suddenly swelled up, thickening to fill the chimney and forcing itself out, straining the metal-threaded clothes.

    I didn¡¯t give the Changer any more time, the dagger in my hand jabbing through the fabric and earning another howl as they tipped backward.

    ¡°Mr. Hawkins,¡± I said mockingly. ¡°The chimney? Even six-year-old children in the quarter know while you may take the chimney in, even if there is literally no other way, never take it out.¡±

    The changer had gone elastic in the middle at the blow. Poison probably helped as well. Their upper body hung down the chimney. It stretched like the world¡¯s fleshiest accordion until his head touched the roof, stretching out his metal-threaded clothes.

    He tried to move, only for Amna and Tommy to both fire. Their bullets hit him in the neck and head, ripping screams of pain out of him as the part of him still in the chimney writhed.

    From below the section of the chimney, his writhing bottom half obscured yelling from down there. Some irate partner was shrieking for him to move. A golden light suddenly bloomed below, tingling my skin as it swept up the chimney.

    Oh, things weren¡¯t going as well for them down there, either.

    Amna and Tommy approached the upper half of Hawkins with blades in their hands, only for him to begin to change. A form similar to the docks one, clothes ripping apart as his skin hardened. It molted, shell sections like those on a lobster pushing their way through and ripping apart skin and clothes alike.

    Bone blades were pushing through the shredded remnants of his hands. Strange. A different form of changing? Maybe a different changer assuming the role of Hawkins.

    ¡°First, they are so difficult to maneuver in, and if you get stuck, you¡¯re done. Your dehydrated corpse will be found by the owner the next time he bothers to get it cleaned. Secondly, on the subject of cleaning, the filthiness of these will not just stick to your clothes and make you more easily identified, it tends to get into one¡¯s eyes. As it clearly has for you.¡±

    The changer roared as the boneblades flailed.

    His torso hadn¡¯t started forming the shell yet. Well, I wouldn¡¯t fail to capitalize. I drove my dagger into his unprotected side. It dove deep, piercing the flesh and finding no bone or muscle to slow it down. No blood poured out, either. Well, hopefully, the poison would still find its place in his body.

    ¡°I was talking, Mr. Hawkins,¡± I said as I pulled on the dagger, letting it slice through more of his elongated midsection. ¡°I would have thought you¡¯d learned a lesson about underestimating me.¡±

    The wound closed behind the dagger¡¯s path, and flesh contracted in on itself. The Changer was pulling itself back up here, snarling the entire time.

    I unstoppered the vial by the time his torso finished contracting. It was a bottle of acid guaranteed to chew through a foot of flesh in thirty seconds or less.

    ¡°Let me help you clean those spot-stained eyes out,¡± I said before dumping the entire vial onto his face.

 Chapter 58 - A Party to Remember VI

    The changer shrieked, flesh bubbling as the acid ate through the skin into the flesh beneath.

    I didn¡¯t wait to watch, reaching for another vial.

    The acid wouldn¡¯t work for long. Oh, it would eat through flesh till there was nothing left, then land on the roof below him, but Hawkins could grow more eyes.

    I uncorked another vial, pouring the foul-smelling substance onto where his struggling body met the chimney. Adhesive.

    The acid was still eating, but flesh swelled even more in response. Damn, damn, damn! Did he have an endless reserve of flesh?

    I leaped down, hooves clacking against roofing tiles as Tommy put another bullet into Hawkins''s writhing form.

    ¡°That might hold him for a bit,¡± I said, tossing the empty vial aside. ¡°At least unless he can disconnect parts of-¡±

    Hawkins roared, then pushed himself past, his head a half-melted mush. Slits opened on his neck, pale red reptilian eyes staring down at us as he pushed past the chimney. The bone-swords on his hands split into three, extending and curving while limbs pushed out of his torso, segmented like spider legs.

    Well, wasn¡¯t that pleasant?

    "We should get running,¡± I said inanely, but Tommy and Amna were already running.

    Pull out the focus, child. While it is still trying to pull itself out of the chimney!

    Instead, my hooves hit the roof tiles again as I followed them. Gregory was halfway between us and the other chimney, mouth agape as more of Hawkins came out of the chimney.

    ¡°We perhaps should have brought more people,¡± I admitted as the chimney began to shudder, bricks being forced out of position.

    Half of Hawkins had gone onto the roof, half-melted head reforming and changing into something else. Bone claws cut into the roof, slicing through tile into the floor beneath as growths pushed out of the side of his widening head.

    Tommy and Amna both fired again, bullets impacting the forming mass to no real effect.

    ¡°Immune to the paralytic, able to bypass the adhesive,¡± I muttered. ¡°The acid works but it¡¯s not enough. Where the hells is it grabbing so much mass? There has to be a limit.¡±

    ¡°What the fuck is mass?¡± Tommy said, looking confused.

    ¡°Is that really the most important thing right now?¡± Gregory asked.

    ¡°No, but the damn thing is-¡± The entire chimney exploded.

    Bricks flew out across the roof as Hawkins''s swelling body broke free, sending a barrage of them our way. I dropped down with the others, letting them pass overhead.

    Hawkins reared up, a tube of pale spongey white flesh, one with arms that clawed through the ceiling. Chunks of it fell through, and tile, wood, and plaster all fell down. I heard yells of panic in response. The ballroom. We were above the ballroom.

    ¡°Do one thing for me?¡± I asked Gregory as Hawkins stared down at us, pincers as long as a human was tall clacking together. I tossed my saber to Amna, who barely managed to catch it. ¡°Two things, I suppose. Get to the other chimney, then get ready to purify anything that happens from what I do. I mean it.¡±

    Gregory paused, considering. ¡°What do you have planned?¡±

    ¡°Not really time. Trust me?¡±

    He nodded, and then he, Amna, and Tommy fled across the roof towards the other chimney and relative safety.

    I pulled my focus out, gripping it tightly in my hand as I faced Hawkins. He¡¯d fully freed himself of the chimney now, giving up on a humanoid form entirely. Instead, a tube of pale segmented flesh easily as tall as I was was above the rooftop, supported by dozens of spindly insect legs, topped off by an oversized centipede head with gnashing pincers, and the two sets of bone claws digging through the ceiling. Liquid and flesh gushed out around the insectoid legs, strips of meat along with red gore and some strange viscous white liquid. Was that what its blood actually was?

    I stood in front, waiting as the head reared back, then paused, simply staring down at me with a few dozen eyes of multiple colors opened up all across that white tube of flesh.

    I cocked my head to the side, smiling.

    "Come on,¡± I called up to him. ¡°Scared of catching a bad case of Hellfire or the Rot again? I thought you''re made of tougher stuff, and that¡¯s before you decided to turn yourself into whatever this is.¡±

    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    A flap of skin opened underneath the centipede head, and human-like teeth were visible through the gap. More leaking fluids, milk pale and viscous dripping from the mouth as dozens of eyes stared.

    ¡°You have marred me for the last time, insect,¡± Hawkins said, tone conversational but the volume loud enough it sounded like the voice-projection spell from the marchs. ¡°And I see you¡¯ve been left alone to face me.¡±

    ¡°Nope. At this point, I figure I can take you out myself. Also, you¡¯re calling me an insect?¡± I asked, gesturing at him. He¡¯d stopped growing, now the size of the Drake statue only with no wings and claws of bones.

    I glanced at that in the astral. The spirit was gone. Dealing with another Changer?

    ¡°You have a very obnoxious sting,¡± Hawkins rasped. ¡°One that someone should have plucked out of you long before now.¡±

    ¡°People keep trying,¡± I replied. ¡°A long, long time of trying. And maybe if you don¡¯t want to get stung, don¡¯t irritate the insect. Frankly, don¡¯t irritate a whole lot of insects.¡±

    One of the claws came up, settling down only a few feet away from me as the head leaned closer, almost as if taking an interest.

    Probably preparing to strike. The only reason he hadn¡¯t yet was¡­why? Waiting for his other companion to make it out of the chimney? It was strange they hadn¡¯t shown up yet. But I could hardly protest if he wanted to buy time. I was doing much the same.

    ¡°Honestly, it seems a bit too much of the irritating,¡± I commented. ¡°I get it, the archives are very nice, but is it worth this much bother getting into them?¡±

    Hawkins didn¡¯t react, but I was hardly trained to read the body language of a flesh tube with pincers.

    ¡°You grasp for meaning your mind could not comprehend,¡± he told me.

    I rolled my eyes. ¡°Ah yes, the meaning of why you could want to replace Lord Montague¡¯s heir through what must be one of the most convoluted routes possible. Might I suggest acting classes instead of poison cures that change one¡¯s personality? Much more effective and much less dependent on limited time frames. In all honesty, what do you even want? Because I¡¯m thinking it may have been much easier to attain through methods that weren¡¯t this violent.¡±

    ¡°You have no idea what we are after,¡± Hawkins said. ¡°Besides, the chance of it being granted to us is minimal.¡±

    So the goal was an ¡®it¡¯. Whatever ¡®it¡¯ was. Not that helpful.

    ¡°Oh, I think Lord Montague isn¡¯t entirely unreasonable,¡± I said. ¡°Oh, he¡¯s quite the shitty person and as prejudiced as they come in regards to me, but not incapable of negotiation, in my experience. Now, trying to kill his eldest son? That tends to hurt your negotiating position.¡±

    The flesh tube stared at me, and its movements looked like¡­hesitation, maybe? It was as if it wanted to strike, but everything was jerky and not well-plotted. The silence stretched on as noises continued from the manor. Screams, yells, but increasingly smaller amounts of both. The gunfire outside the manor had faded completely.

    ¡°Seriously,¡± I said. ¡°I can empathize with things going wrong, so there¡¯s a bit of sympathy there. Not much, though. But that moment when you thought everything was going to be alright only to come crashing down suddenly, and you realize you¡¯re going to be digging yourself out of a pit for the foreseeable future? How many times has that happened to you this past month.¡±

    Still nothing to say, but at least all their eyes were affixed on me. It meant they didn¡¯t see some stars dim.

    Not actually going out, as much as the Hells probably wished. Just obscured for a time.

    ¡°Have you seriously run out of things to say already?¡± I said. ¡°Because I don¡¯t think your friend is making it out of that chimney.¡±

    The skin flap sealed itself up. Well, there weren¡¯t too many ways this was going to go from here.

    Something roared by that chimeny, the sound of someone running through a wall. Was his friend busy fighting the dragon statue inside there? Not really that important as Hawkins'' eyes fixed on me.

    ¡°I must ask you something important to the both of us before you attempt to eat me,¡± I said as Hawkin¡¯s head reared back. ¡°Did you know that one can channel Diabolism through any part of their body?¡±

    Hawkins hesitated and then tried to turn, but it was too late as the roof groaned. The rot I¡¯d been channeling from my hoof through our entire conversation finished its work. The floor underneath me buckled, then suddenly, the whole section of the ceiling beneath the two of us vanished and we plummeted.

    Not enough time to think as we fell, heading towards the ballroom floor behind the roof. Hawkin¡¯s head lashed out, a pincer puncturing through my dress into my side. A hot rod of pain stabbed into my side, as the pincer moved, ripping my skin. Screaming, I sprayed hellfire, onto the side of his head, charring flesh even as we both plummeted.

    I rammed down on the ground and I felt something snap and then¡­.

    Nothing.

    ***

    Voices.

    Pain.

    Why was there so much pain? Oh, right, I¡¯d decided to take a free fall down three stories, trying to knock out a shape-changer.

    I opened my eyes, seeing the night sky framed by the giant hole in the ballroom¡¯s ceiling. Bits of it still fell, pieces crumbling off and falling to smash into the floor, sending ripples of pain through me from the impact.

    People were crowded on the stairway and the second floor, looking down at the two of us among the rubble of the roof. Watch, guests, guards, and servants. Only one face I really recognized in Malstein. Where were Dawes and Voltar? Where was Lord Montague?

    At least, it seemed they had known to gather up there. Tracing instructions telling everyone to get out from under the ceiling beneath me in big giant letters of Hellfire had actually worked. It was nice not to be a mass murderer.

    Malstein yelled something I couldn''t quite make out, and Watch members started moving down the stairs.

    I tried to say something, only for something wet to spray out of my lips. Oh, hells. Internal injuries. That could not be good.

    I tried to move, only for the pain to ripple through my body again. I turned my head. Oh, right.

    Hawkin¡¯s pincer still jutted into my side, his motionless body lying next to me. The damn thing had finally gone through, four inches jutting out of my stomach. It stuck out near the edge, so maybe I¡¯d gotten lucky and it hadn¡¯t pierced an internal organ.

    The only lucky part. I could see my hoof pointed up at me, the leg it was attached to was bent the wrong way. I tried to move it and almost passed out as it twitched and pain ripped through me as punishment.

    Brilliant. I had vials, but first I¡¯d need to get this damn thing out of me. At least Hawkins was down.

    As if in response, the pincer twitched, sending slivers of pain through me and spots across my vision.

    Eat or be eaten.

    Hawkins¡¯ eyes opened.

 Chapter 59 - A Party to Remember VII

    I bit back a curse as the eyes along Hawkins opened, looking all about. I put a hand on the pincer sticking to my side. I pushed on it and immediately stopped as it felt like my abdomen was being ripped in two. Blood poured out as it moved a fraction of an inch.

    Fuck.

    Watch members leveled their muskets. Malstein yelled at them to fire at Hawkins. Guns started discharging, a loose barrage of gunfire as musket balls flew. Hawkins shrieked, springing into action as musket balls punched into flesh. Eyes burst, spraying more milk-white fluid as they ruptured, and limbs twitched as bullets tore holes in them.

    More importantly, it lifted me up.

    I screamed as the pincer raised me, pulling at my torso, ripping the hole wider as Hawkins reared towards the ceiling.

    No time to think about the risks. My hand reflexively grabbed onto the pincer, and I called on Diabolism. Chitin flaked under my touch as I poured rot across its surface. Entire plates fell as parts of it dissolved, and with a sudden snap, I fell back to the ground.

    I landed back first, rubble from the ceiling delivering two blows across my lower back as I hit it. Groaning, I put a hand on my snapped forward leg.

    The Diabolism burned my veins as I forced it into my leg, its tendrils passing through and into the snapped back joint. I didn¡¯t have time to be fragile with this. I directed it to seize snapped bones and tendons and, in a single motion, forced them back into place.

    I screamed as my hoof swung back the other way, cracking and snapping. Diabolism sent tendrils into my leg, holding the limb together as I returned to my hooves. Each movement was agony.

    It''s best not to think about the consequences of putting diabolism through my veins and tendons. I could worry later. I instead turned my attention back to Hawkins.

    I¡¯d long been forgotten by the Changer, who was trying to handle the forty or so Watch in the ballroom. Tendrils emerged swatting at them, legs stabbed and thrust, its pincer was reforming as its mandibles closed on a guard, snapping the poor human in half.

    Both halves landed near me, and the entrails landed a second later. Okay. I needed a plan. Blindly attacking something like this would only get me killed.

    There were always limits to magic. With Diabolism, it was how much you could pull on it before the side effects killed you, either by finally turning on your body or by warping the world around you.

    There had to be limits to this. Hawkins couldn¡¯t eternally pull new mass from nowhere. He had to convert magic to mass or energy. Theoretically, he could have a very deep well, but there weren¡¯t a lot of other options.

    Opponent regenerates? Rot the flesh till they stopped.

    I couldn¡¯t move very fast, and each step made my leg scream at me. Luckily, I didn¡¯t need to move fast. Hawkins focused on a single Watch member at a time as they fired rifles and revolvers or tried fending off his tendrils with blades.

    He couldn¡¯t split his focus up. One weakness. My hand still gripped the knife with the paralytic as I got within arm¡¯s length of his main body.

    Here¡¯s hoping this felt like a pinprick compared to all the other wounds. I pushed my dagger into the skin, slicing through it. Clear liquid came out first, followed by the milk-white ichor from before. I carved further, opening up more of it before sticking my hand in. It felt slimy, not unlike gutting a fish, as I pushed my hand inside.

    That got Hawkins'' attention, his body beginning to move, pulling away from me, but my other hand grabbed onto the edge of the cut. It dragged me along, but as it did, I channeled rot right into his body.

    Inside him, he felt strange. I couldn¡¯t sculpt, so I instead focused on channeling the rot. The flesh inside was reacting in a strange way. It was liquifying, turning to mush and then to a liquid that stung my hands as it poured past.

    Hawkins shrieked, rolling around now, and suddenly, I was lying on top as he rolled.

    I kept my hand inside, pouring the energy through. The skin began to melt, ripping open, and the slurry Diabolism had made of Hawkins'' innards poured out onto me. The stench made me gag, what little food I¡¯d had at the party making its way up, but I kept my hand inside Hawkins.

    He shrieked, rearing up as he flailed about. People were running any way they could through the manor now. Tendrils wrapped around Watchmen, strips of white flesh squeezing them till bones cracked and skin burst. Spider legs stabbed, piercing through skulls and pulping heads.

    Some emerged from the flesh near me, half-formed and melting. One tried to wrap around my hand, only to slough down onto the ground.

    Flailing limbs began to detach, falling out of sockets turned to mush. The body beneath me began to collapse, skin splitting along more and more lines, fluids and mush pouring out. The struggles grew more diminutive and less forceful. After a while, my biggest concern was not falling through the skin into the soup of organs and flesh as the creature slowly deflated. Eventually, I managed to get my hooves back on the ground.

    Next to me, the husk of the body continued to spew ichor and organs, not a single leg still attached. But something was also pushing on the skin from within.

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    Something vaguely humanoid and pale white emerged from the skin next to me. It was tall, masculine in build, hairless, and had no features outside of a vague outline of eyes and mouth covered by skin. It took a few stumbling steps, an eyeless face looking about.

    Then a gun fired, and it fell to the ground, trying to scream through his unformed mouth as its knee shattered. Seconds passed, and it continued to remain shattered and not regenerating.

    I stopped paying attention, grabbing the last of my healing draughts from its hidden pocket. Thank whoever was watching I''d landed on my back instead of face-down or it would have been crushed. Thank them for many things, like somehow not breaking my spine. I downed it, pain retreating as it worked. It would close the hole in my side, but my broken leg being held together by Diabolism? There''s not much it could do on that.

    More Watch swarmed the pale figure, restraining it while Malstein yelled about wanting him alive and not dead. I limped away, making for the stairs. I just wanted somewhere I could sit down and try to lessen the agony traveling through my leg.

    I first grabbed my knife off the ground, holding onto it since my bag was missing. Aedelia had fit several hidden pockets on the dress, but they weren¡¯t that large. I limped over the staircase where Malstein was organizing the remaining Watch. It looked like maybe a dozen had died to Hawkins.

    ¡°Harrow,¡± he called out. ¡°I¡¯m not seeing anything immediately diabolic, which shouldn¡¯t be possible.¡±

    ¡°Everything diabolical is caught inside the corpse,¡± I muttered, gesturing towards Hawkins'' chained-up humanoid form. ¡°It¡¯ll need to be purified, but right now, I think it¡¯s still trying to figure out what to do with him. It¡¯s probably why that got spat out, finally. Flesh tried to fight rot, but rot won in the end. He probably reached his limits and decided to escape before the Diabolism really got its hooks into him.¡±

    ¡°It looks like you reached yours as well,¡± Malstein observed.

    ¡°Probably,¡± I muttered. ¡°Definitely. He¡¯s¡­.a wellspring of life energy? Something like that. I had to smother it. It might not have been involuntary. He might have thought we would be in a stalemate and gave up before I could inflict permanent harm. Don¡¯t trust his knee not regenerating, though.¡±

    Malstein sighed, rubbing one of his tusks as he considered the chained-up pale humanoid. ¡°What I would give for this to be simple. Trying to contain something of this nature¡­¡±

    ¡°The Watch has got to have mages capable of arranging something,¡± I said. ¡°Or at least a cell with only one potential exit.¡±

    ¡°The former is hard to pull depending on who has priority on those resources,¡± Malstein said. ¡°The second is more manageable.¡±

    ¡°Do you want to talk about my using Diabolism again?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Don¡¯t think it¡¯s my place to say anything, this time at least,¡± Malstein said. ¡°Besides, telling you not to do this doesn¡¯t seem to make you stop.¡±

    I grimaced. I couldn¡¯t deny the point, but the shame from that didn¡¯t cut as deep as it should.

    ¡°Circumstances,¡± I said, looking at the still-rotting and melting corpse. Rot still ate, everyone keeping a healthy distance away from it as it melted and pieces occasionally collapsed in on themselves.

    ¡°I will admit this seems dire enough to warrant it. What about the other diabolism?¡±

    I looked at my right leg, little spikes of pain going through it as Diabolism wormed around inside it. Going into veins, holding muscles and tendons in place.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± I said. ¡°Just¡­I¡¯m pretty sure when I let it go, I¡¯ll pass out, so I¡¯m holding on for a little longer.¡±

    ¡°Passing out might not be a terrible idea, perhaps,¡± Malstein said. ¡°You look beat to hell and back.¡±

    ¡°I certainly feel it, but not quite yet,¡± I muttered, sliding down to the floor. The siren¡¯s call of rest was there, but I couldn¡¯t just let myself sleep yet.

    ¡°You have a spare sheath I can borrow?¡± I asked. ¡°Just don¡¯t want to stab myself or anyone with this accidentally.¡±

    I held up the poisoned knife, sure to keep it pointed anywhere but at the Watch captain.

    ¡°Poisoned?¡± Malstein asked.

    ¡°Just a paralytic,¡± I said. ¡°Thought it would do something, but I think they¡­.altered their nervous system? Something like that.¡±

    ¡°Well, we might get some answers on that soon,¡± Malstein said, looking at the prone Hawkins.

    ¡°I¡¯d love to be in a room with him,¡± I muttered, which got a wary look. ¡°Just to talk. Not to examine or get some fleeting moment of catharsis. Where¡¯s the other one?¡±

    ¡°Other one?¡± Malstein asked me.

    ¡°A second one was trying to make it from the third floor to the roof via the chimney. They never made it up.¡±

    Malstein shook his head. ¡°If they were on the third floor¡­I¡¯ve heard noises, but getting up there to investigate has proven difficult.¡±

    I frowned. ¡°Lord Montague?¡± The only person I could think of who could stall the Watch even a little.

    ¡°On the third floor, along with Lady Karsin, some other guests, and guards. He¡¯s refused to let me up there.¡±

    What was on this third floor that he was willing to turn down potential help to keep it a secret? ¡°There¡¯s been two different attacks inside his manor. Do you really need his permission?¡±

    Malstein grimaced. ¡°Technically, no. In reality, yes. If I want to have a career at the end of this.¡±

    ¡°Right,¡± I muttered, slowly slumping down further. Those pesky realities were getting in the way of a neat and easy end to all of this. That was one thing closed. Now for another.

    ¡°Voltar and Dawes?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Vanished. A few people saw them go deeper into the mansion by themselves.¡±

    I groaned as I leaned against the stair railing. ¡°I¡­.why are people so stupid?¡±

    Changers were on the loose, but they had decided to go off alone. There better be a damn good reason.

    ¡°I have people looking for them,¡± Malstein said, finally getting up from beside me. He gestured to a few Watch who began to walk over, muskets shouldered. ¡°You should take the chance for some rest.¡±

    I sighed, not having a good argument. Oh, I could argue that if another Shapeshifter showed up, they¡¯d need me to handle it. But my hoof and leg were being held together by the most slapdash methods. And if I held it together too long, it not healing correctly would be the least of my worries.

    Where were other mages, now that I thought about it? Sure, Malstein might not have the pull to bring any in, but Lord Montague should have the resources for something.

    ¡°The other guests?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Spread out among the manor. A pain and ones who were on their own are going to be watched carefully, but no indications anyone is in danger.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll wake me up in half an hour?¡± I asked, pulling myself up with a pained grunt and heading to a bench. ¡°Or if something happens that I should be informed of?¡±

    ¡°Sure,¡± he said, gesturing to the two Watch to help me. Eventually, they got me settled into the bench. ¡°And I¡¯ll see if I can find someone to look at your leg. Just rest.¡±

    I didn¡¯t respond; I just let the diabolism in my leg pull back. Immediately after, sleep claimed me.

 Chapter 60 - Afterparty I

    ¡°Malvia?¡±

    A voice called to me, breaking through the depths of slumber, and my eyes fluttered open as it spoke again.

    ¡°Malvia? Can you wake up?¡±

    Above me, an angel, a halo of gold around his head, smiled gently down at me. That should frighten me, but instead, the sight filled me with warmth.

    ¡°Malvia? We need your help, so please wake up?¡±

    I realized, suddenly, that it wasn¡¯t an angel. It was Gregory Montague, with his head backlit by a chandelier, peering down at me with a smile that was actually more concerned than gentle. And from this angle, the way he looked down, was my head¡­?

    No, I confirmed as my senses became clearer, and I felt wood with the back of my head. I did not have my head lying in his lap. Disappointment and relief warred inside me for dominance as the kneeling nobleman returned to his feet and offered me his hand.

    I reached out with my own and froze as it came into view.

    My right hand was a darker shade than the rest of me, going from my regular tone to pitch black at my fingers. I flexed it uncertainly, not feeling anything different. There¡¯d be other changes, though. The Diabolic never left their changes skin-deep.

    ¡°Everything okay?¡± Gregory asked.

    ¡°No,¡± I answered. ¡°But it can wait.¡±

    I glanced around. The ballroom was almost empty; a few members of the Watch spread about within view, perhaps a dozen in total.

    ¡°How long did I sleep for?¡± I asked.

    Looking through the windows, it was still dark out, with only the artificial light of the streetlamps, so probably the same night. Even if no one had bothered to move me, I doubted Lord Montague would have tolerated me sleeping in his ballroom throughout the day.

    Then again, the fact Hawkins'' cast off skin and innards, charred Infernal corpses, and rubble from the roof was still in the middle of the ballroom should have told me that.

    ¡°I¡¯m not entirely sure,¡± Gregory admitted. ¡°By the time those two Watchmen you¡¯re acquainted with and I found a way off the roof, you had already passed out, and they had a doctor looking over your leg. It¡¯s been about half an hour since then. Most guests have been taken outside while the Watch searches the manor.¡±

    My broken leg had a splint on it now, one that I could feel going well past my knee. Which, since the skirt of my dress was still intact¡­.I could only hope the doctor had enough respect to treat me like a person.

    ¡°Makes sense,¡± I said with a bit of forced cheer. ¡°Get everyone into a wide, open area with fewer places for Changers to hide and try to replace people. Keep them there till everyone is accounted for. I¡¯m assuming Malstein is somewhere in the manor?¡±

    ¡°The good captain is currently trying to negotiate with my father who remains holed up on the third floor,¡± Gregory said. ¡°He¡¯s rather swiftly learning the same irritation experienced by anyone who has had to endure my father for more than fifteen minutes. Lady Karsin and Edward are up there with him, and we¡¯ve been finding pockets of guests, servants, and guards as the manor gets cleared. There are no other Shapechangers yet, but people are still unaccounted for. William, Voltar, and Dawes are still missing, maybe another twenty people besides them.¡±

    It took me a second to remember who William was. The youngest brother, who I supposed probably didn¡¯t deserve death by a shapechanger. But more importantly, Voltar and Dawes were still missing and that did not bode well.

    ¡°For the world¡¯s greatest detective, he can truly lack intelligence,¡± I said. ¡°Going off alone in your manor, just with Dawes, with a minimum of three shapechangers roaming about¡­two, I guess. Help me up?¡±

    ¡°Should you be walking around on that?¡± Gregory asked, but he did still offer me his hand.

    ¡°Well, as the doctor has decided to leave before giving me any instructions,¡± I said, grabbing his hand and pulling myself up. I winced as pain shot through my splinted leg, and I focused my weight on the other hoof. ¡°I think I¡¯ll be fine if I walk slowly. Can you find me a crutch, maybe?¡±

    It was five minutes waiting for Gregory to find one, who knows from where, but I finally began to limp among the wreckage scattered in the ballroom. The stench was horrifying, charred corpse mixing with what resembled rotting eggs.

    ¡°Can you just sculpt away the broken leg?¡± Gregory asked.

    ¡°I can hasten the process some,¡± I replied, looking at the limb in question, knowing better than to try probing it for now. ¡°It¡¯ll still be weaker for a while, and I need time to work on it. But for tonight? Definitely not. So, I¡¯m guessing you want me to help you look for any others?¡±

    Gregory nodded. ¡°What with you being able to hear those hiding in the carriages outside, I figured you could do it the best.¡±

    ¡°And not the Watch?¡±

    Gregory looked around, making sure no officers were nearby. ¡°The Watch are being cautious. Justifiably so, but they¡¯re still searching the first floor.¡±

    And he wanted to find his brother; the faster, the better. I could say no, but there wasn¡¯t much point in doing so.

    ¡°I suppose it¡¯s time to venture back into high society if we¡¯re searching for your father¡¯s guests,¡± I joked as I put my weight on my other hoof. ¡°How do I look?¡±

    Gregory hesitated, which told me all I needed to know. Hells, I could look down and tell all I needed to know.

    ¡°Do I at least not look completely like shit?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Can I say you still look nice?¡± Gregory said.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to find a mirror eventually. Be honest.¡±

    ¡°Well, your face and head are both caked in that strange white ichor, you¡¯ve got stab wounds and the broken leg, your dress is tattered, especially because the doctor didn¡¯t want to take it off, so she ripped it open more, so she could stitch you up, and your right hand is well, corrupted?¡±

    Hopefully, a good tub could fix all¡­well, maybe most¡­okay, some of that. ¡°Good enough,¡± I said, limping around the charred corpse of one of the fake Black Flame.

    ¡°Poor bastards,¡± Gregory commented as we went past.

    ¡°They were idiots,¡± I muttered. ¡°They fell for a con, dived headfirst into it, and now none of them will see what they¡¯ve wrought.¡±

    Gregory winced. ¡°That seems a little harsh, doesn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m more angry than sad over it,¡± I told Gregory as I moved next to one of them, flesh charred and blackened where divine energy had touched. ¡°Idiots, all of them. I don¡¯t know what lies they got fed, but doing this with tensions as high as they are? Honestly, my only wish would be that they were alive, and that all the fallout from this only fell on them. They¡¯re not the ones who are going to be clubbed by some bigot who hears that the Black Flame, no, Infernalkind as a whole, organized an assault on the good nobility of the empire. If I¡¯d been thinking straight, I should have just had you char the lot of them when the first one opened fire. Fewer people would have died, and the ones burnt alive would have been the most deserving.¡±

    I grabbed my focus, looping its chain around my neck instead of putting it back in my pocket. I could hardly hide my diabolism after falling through the roof, and it made it easier to grab. Besides, I needed the boost to both power and control. Diabolism was the only way I could fight them.

    Going up onto the second floor, I hushed Gregory and listened. I couldn¡¯t hear anything at all for a second, but eventually, my ear caught someone hyperventilating in a room up ahead. Someone had rushed inside very close to the Ballroom and had somehow gone undetected.

    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    The door didn¡¯t open when I tried the handle, and the hyperventilating only worsened.

    ¡°It¡¯s alright,¡± Gregory called out. ¡°We¡¯re here to help. Please open the door?¡±

    The door suddenly swung open, revealing a wild-eyed William Montague who embraced his brother, arms wrapped around Gregory.

    Then he saw me, his eyes widened even more, and he started screaming.

    ¡°William!¡± Gregory cried out. ¡°It¡¯s okay. Malv-Miss Waters is here with me, remember? What are you doing in here?¡±

    The youngest Montague froze, his brother¡¯s voice breaking him out of the panic my appearance had induced. ¡°I¡­when everyone started hiding, I found this room, locked myself in, and have been hiding here since. Is anyone alive?¡±

    ¡°Close to everyone,¡± Gregory said, slowly removing his brother¡¯s arms from around his waist. ¡°Listen, it¡¯s unsafe to be in the manor right now. Head to the ballroom, ask the Watch there, and they¡¯ll escort you to where everyone is gathered outside. Just down the hall. Harry and Danielle and everyone else are out there.¡±

    ¡°Father?¡±

    Gregory grimaced. ¡°Not yet. Soon, though.¡±

    I eyed the young Montague as he moved past me, doing his best not to look at me.

    William Montague had been unaccompanied, and who knows how long he¡¯d been on his own for. He didn¡¯t smell of blood or death, but the changers before didn¡¯t have that scent on them. Whether they could mask scents or were very good at removing the smell from clothing, they could hide that.

    As William Montague continued down the hall, I drew my poisoned knife from its sheath.

    Gregory¡¯s breath hitched slightly as he looked down at the knife.

    ¡°What are you doing?!¡± He hissed, hands grabbing my wrist. My other hand reflexively went to claw at his grip, but I stopped it before it got too close.

    ¡°It''s a paralytic on the knife,¡± I replied flatly. ¡°We paralyze him. I poke around a bit, make sure he¡¯s human.¡±

    Gregory¡¯s grip on my wrist tightened, and I wrenched it from his grasp, staring at him. His hands didn¡¯t reach out again, but his stare was cold.

    ¡°Or, perhaps we don¡¯t torture my brother and just take him back to the ballroom?¡±

    ¡°And if he is one?¡± I muttered.

    ¡°Then that¡¯s something we¡¯ll deal with when I see my brother¡¯s corpse and not a second earlier,¡± Gregory said, glaring at me. ¡°Put the knife away.¡±

    I met his gaze, seconds passing, then quietly sheathed the knife.

    ¡°Mercy will cost you,¡± I chided him gently.

    ¡°Do you want to claim you don¡¯t have any?¡± Gregory spat back. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure my throat would be cut if that was the case.¡±

    ¡°Different circumstances,¡± I replied, limping further down the hall as William¡¯s footsteps faded behind us. ¡°I wasn¡¯t running the risk of you being able to turn into a giant worm that would start fighting an entire company of Watch with flesh tentacles. But more importantly, know when mercy is useful and when it isn¡¯t. This? The cost might end up being far too high. Sometimes, when the stakes get high enough, kindness can be the worst mistake.¡±

    I moved past, heading deeper inside the manor''s second floor, and kept going till my hearing caught something else.

    Muffled yelling this time, the kind from having a gag put on you. I should know, having worn one myself a couple of weeks back. I limped towards it, Gregory a few steps behind, till I ended up at what looked like a closet.

    I gestured towards it, then drew my knife while Gregory¡¯s hands glowed, my skin itching as he called on Divine magic.

    I grabbed the door and flung it open, revealing Voltar and Dawes, tied up with ropes and with gags of what looked like washcloths shoved inside their mouths.

    ¡°Any objection to me carving up these two to find out if they¡¯re shapechangers?¡± I asked Gregory, drawing my knife and gesturing to the gagged detectives.

    They immediately started yelling behind the gags while Gregory gave me another cold look.

    ¡°Really?¡± he asked, moving to untie Dawes first.

    ¡°Am I the only one trying to consider whether people are capable of changing shape while roaming around?¡± I asked, sheathing my knife again as Gregory started freeing Dawes. ¡°Look, one little stab, I see if I can find anything about their anatomy that doesn¡¯t make sense, and if they can mimic people perfectly, at least they¡¯re paralyzed¡­.wait. The paralytic didn¡¯t work on Hawkins, so if they move after being jabbed, they would be a shapechanger!¡±

    ¡°Can you please stop suggesting poisoning people?¡± Gregory asked, only to be distracted by muffled grunts from Voltar. After a few seconds of that, with a sigh, he left the still mostly tied-up Dawes to free Voltar¡¯s mouth.

    ¡°It¡¯s not the worst suggestion,¡± Voltar said as soon as the gag was removed, earning a groan from Gregory and a muffled one from Dawes.

    I was conflicted myself, caught between someone else actually agreeing my idea was good and the fact it was Voltar saying that.

    ¡°Not a perfect one,¡± he continued as Gregory began to work on the other ropes binding him, to Dawes¡¯ visible disappointment. ¡°If they aren¡¯t a changer, they will be paralyzed for several hours. Also, if the changer is aware ahead of time that whatever cuts or stabs them has the paralytic, they¡¯ll know to simulate its effects.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I have a fix for that,¡± I said eagerly. ¡°They have nerves. They¡¯ve reacted to wounds too much not to have them. You just cut to the extent it triggers an involuntary reaction, and if they twitch, they¡¯re a changer.¡±

    ¡°Could you please stop suggesting torture?¡± Gregory asked, tone annoyed as he finally freed Voltar¡¯s arms.

    I kept a retort bottled up inside me. First, the Watch was no longer using it, now this. Was there some kind of cultural shift in torture that I hadn¡¯t noticed? It had always been terrible for interrogation, but that didn¡¯t mean it was entirely useless.

    ¡°Since no one seems to be in favor of testing with the only way to be certain,¡± I said to Voltar as he worked on removing the rest of the binds while Gregory moved to Dawes. ¡°Let me ask you a question. My two half-siblings, besides Versalicci, tell me their names.¡±

    Gregory¡¯s hand slipped, earning a muffled protest from Dawes as the knife came close to his neck.

    ¡°You¡¯re Versalicci¡¯s half-sister?¡±

    ¡°Not relevant at the moment, but yes,¡± I replied, keeping my eyes on Voltar.

    ¡°Ask her which parent they share,¡± Voltar told Gregory.

    "Enough,¡± I demanded of Voltar. ¡°But also, what were their names?¡±

    ¡°Jane and Greyson,¡± he responded. ¡°Your junior by two years and senior by three, respectively, both dead-¡°

    ¡°We don¡¯t need to get into that,¡± I snapped. ¡°You¡¯re Voltar. How did you get tied up?¡±

    ¡°Chasing after the two of you,¡± he said with a very punchable grin.

    ¡°Shapechangers,¡± I said flatly.

    ¡°Well, I gave that good odds based on their body language and movement, missing a few key details about both of your appearances,¡± Voltar told me. ¡°But there was a lingering idea in my mind that I might be wrong and after you and Gregory killed about forty people between the two of you, you decided to drag him further into the manor to blow off some steam.¡±

    Gregory¡¯s hand almost slipped again while I sputtered. The temptation to stab Voltar just so the paralytic would shut him up was climbing quite highly.

    ¡°But I realized after seeing you two throughout the night that wouldn¡¯t be possible. He would be dragging you, not the other way around.¡±

    Bait. He was trying to bait me. Why, I didn¡¯t know, but I could ignore this easily.

    ¡°Maybe if you acted on your desires once in a while, you wouldn¡¯t be such a fri-¡°

    I put all my weight on my broken leg, the other ramming right between his legs. Agonizing pain went through my leg in the splint before I collapsed to the ground. It was worth every painful moment as Voltar collapsed.

    I went for the wall, dragging myself back into a standing position while Voltar groaned.

    Gregory had finally taken Dr. Dawes''s gag off and gotten most of the bindings off. The doctor stepped out of the closet, looking cautiously from me to the prone and groaning form of Voltar.

    ¡°I am not apologizing,¡± I told him icily.

    Dawes held his hands up placatingly. ¡°I don¡¯t blame you. A line was crossed. One that Voltar would normally not do.¡±

    ¡°Oh, really?¡± I said, the ice in my voice turning to venom. ¡°That¡¯s strange, I would say the opposite. Why, Doctor, should I believe you on this?¡±

    He sighed, then leaned down to help his companion.

    ¡°You have been far too pointed in your remarks,¡± Gregory added, icily looking down at Voltar. ¡°I thought better of you in the past, detective.¡±

    ¡°Oh, psst,¡± Voltar said from the ground, waving a hand dismissively. ¡°If I really wanted to make her upset, I¡¯d aim some of the things dwelling in her past. Tell me something Malvia, have you ever told Gregory about the One-horns?¡±

    ¡°Do you want to get kicked again?¡± I shot back acidly. ¡°I¡¯m willing to break another leg getting my message across.¡±

    ¡°How did you break the first one?¡± Voltar asked, a vulpine grin on his face as he got all the way back up.

    ¡°Handling a shapechanger,¡± I said. ¡°We have Hawkins. So the night hasn¡¯t been a complete waste.¡±

    ¡°A changer?¡± Voltar asked excitedly. ¡°You actually caught one?¡±

    ¡°Less caught and more rotted him to the point what¡¯s left isn¡¯t shapechanging as easily,¡± I said. ¡°Best guess? They have a reservoir they draw on for the changes. I¡¯m unsure how they refill it, but he exhausted his. The Watch has him now.¡±

    ¡°I need to talk to him,¡± Voltar said, beginning to pace. ¡°Malstein will want him first of course, and then perhaps other officers in the Watch who are interested. I have leverage, though, so I can probably secure a time to talk ahead of some of them.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d like to speak to him as well,¡± I said. ¡°I have my own questions I want answered. Maybe the both of us together if they aren¡¯t willing to do two separate ones.¡±

    ¡°Hrrm,¡± Voltar said, considering for barely a second. ¡°Perhaps. Honestly, just give me the questions and I¡¯ll ask them for you.¡±

    My hands grabbed his lapels, forcing the detective against the wall. Startled, he stared down at me as if in disbelief I¡¯d laid a finger on him. It didn¡¯t take long for an almost vulpine grin to reappear on his face.

    ¡°No, Voltar,¡± I spat. ¡°This is not a ¡®perhaps¡¯. I have been acting at your direction, enduring your barbs, and listening to your remarks at me this entire time. I¡¯ve been pulled around by half a dozen people, including you, all trying to play me for the fool. I took down Hawkins while you were busy getting yourself caught and tied up in a closet. I earned this,-¡±

    A click next to my head. I froze, then slowly turned to see the muzzle of a revolver aimed at my head by Dawes. No.

    Then I felt something, just a light sensation on my skin. Divine magic, tickling since it hadn¡¯t been unleashed yet. No. I was a fool for that to feel like a betrayal. My masks were pieces at this point, to have little nothings affect me this much, but I could stop it from feeling like ice stabbed into my ear.

    ¡°I¡­¡± my voice caught in my throat, and I forced my gaze onto Dawes and not in the other direction. ¡°I¡¯m not going to hurt him Dr. Dawes.¡±

    ¡°Normally, I¡¯d believe that,¡± he said. ¡°And I understand feeling like he sometimes needs a good punch or two. Not a word Voltar, you know you have. But until that Focus of yours stops burning, let him go.¡±

    My..? I glanced down and saw my focus still hanging from it¡¯s chain in front of my dress, burning with a black flame that didn¡¯t spread. Only now did I realize I¡¯d been gathering up diabolism, pulling on it, only to do¡­.what?

    I let go of Voltar¡¯s lapels, the detective slumping to the ground. I struggled to find something to say, but too ashamed and angry, I just turned around and stalked back towards the ballroom.

 Chapter 61 - Afterparty II

    I stalked off with nothing but anger in my stomach. Anger at many things, changers, Montague, Voltar, Versalicci, a half dozen other things, but mostly myself.

    Had I even felt when I¡¯d started calling on Diabolism? All I remembered was slamming Voltar against the wall, the anger at the constant prodding, and it had found a way in.

    ¡°How much of that was you, you little rat?¡± I whispered, only to get no answer from the passenger in my head.

    No, blaming the Imp wasn¡¯t going to help. Some of this was on me.

    ¡°Malvia?¡±

    I turned around and saw Gregory walking down the hallway toward me. Voltar and Dawes were heading into a room near the closet we¡¯d freed them, probably unwilling to head this way while I was still here. Gregory caught up, expression cautious like he was approaching a rat he suspected would bite if he got too close.

    He probably wasn¡¯t wrong, but it just made me feel even worse.

    ¡°It¡¯s probably best if we don¡¯t walk alone through the manor,¡± Gregory said.

    I nodded stiffly. ¡°It is just down the hall, so I don¡¯t think it¡¯s necessary, but you are right that we have at least two unaccounted for. Three maybe. Something I didn¡¯t have a chance to bring up with those two was why the changers had imprisoned them instead of killing them both.¡±

    ¡°Three of them?¡±

    ¡°I don''t see how the two changers who tied them up could have also been trying to get at your brother,¡± I said. ¡°They¡¯d have to be in two places at once, and we haven¡¯t seen them be able to divide themselves. Yet.¡±

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s a horrifying thought to keep me up all of tonight in addition to everything else. Thank you, Malvia.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not very likely,¡± I said. ¡°If they could do that with anything approaching regularity, I doubt changers would hide as much as they do. No, there were at least four here tonight. Interesting that only two of them revealed themselves.¡±

    ¡°Cutting their losses?¡±

    ¡°Possibly. I think Voltar and Dawes aren¡¯t telling us their entire story. But they¡¯re hardly the only ones. What do you think your father is doing right now?¡±

    Gregory stopped, and I paused as he looked up at the ceiling as if he could peer through it to see his father as he sucked in a breath.

    ¡°You are not stabbing my father,¡± he said, lowering iron-hard eyes to meet mine.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t plan on it,¡± I confessed. ¡°I doubt he¡¯s a Shapechanger. It would be the height of stupidity for them to pretend to be one of their own identities.¡±

    ¡°If they replaced him after they started meetings with the Pure Bloods as him, it¡¯s a possibility.¡±

    ¡°Who is trying to convince who of what here?¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s possible, but his actions tonight, I think, were after a different angle. Although I might be wrong, and maybe they are that dumb.¡±

    ¡°Tonight might support that,¡± Gregory said. ¡°They were so overt.¡±

    ¡°Not necessarily the worst angle, given their situation,¡± I said. ¡°There is something off, though. They know we know, and so regardless of the outcome tonight, we¡¯d suspect your brother of being a changer. Which means something else was the goal tonight. Is it possible to get to the archives from the third floor of your manor?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Gregory said immediately before narrowing his eyes. ¡°Wait, let me correct that. As far as I know, there¡¯s no way, and I¡¯ve never seen or heard of my father getting in them in a manner I¡¯m unaware of. And if I don¡¯t know, I doubt the changers do.¡±

    ¡°They might have made a wager with your brother as a consolation prize,¡± I said. ¡°I need to get inside them.¡±

    Gregory chuckled. ¡°That¡¯s definitely not happening. Given his recent attitude, and what you are implying, Father probably won¡¯t even let me inside them in the coming weeks.¡±

    ¡°Well,¡± I said. ¡°We don¡¯t have to go in there with his permission.¡±

    His eyes narrowed. ¡°Maybe. It depends on what you intend.¡±

    ¡°A conversation for later, maybe,¡± I said. ¡°On another topic, a private interview with your father is also worth discussing.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± he said bluntly. ¡°Especially not one on one between you and him.¡±

    I grimaced, my next step off and only causing more pain as my splinted hoof touched the carpeting.

    ¡°I can understand why you have reservations, given what just happened,¡± I said. ¡°But it would be nowhere near the same with him.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not happening Malvia,¡± he said, with a tone that might as well be forged out of steel. I held my tongue, figuring nothing good would come of continuing.

    It really wasn¡¯t far back to the ballroom. We emerged on the second floor, the first not having changed since we left. More Watch had arrived, their numbers now nearing thirty. There was a small knot of them at the base of the stairs talking, Malstein among them.

    He acknowledged us with a nod before returning to the discussion. The other two were a human woman with a long scar over her eye running from chin to hairline, the other a stocky dwarf who looked more clerk than watch member. The officers probably involved in the scheme to distract Malstein and to arrest me.

    I looked down at the dance floor, and a stupid, enticing idea lodged in my head. It was insanity to ask, but...it might be worth the risk.

    ¡°This will sound silly,¡± I admitted. ¡°My leg is broken, I hardly look my best, but still¡­.would you perhaps give me the honor of a dance Lord Gregory?¡±

    Gregory looked at me, hesitancy all over his face, and my heart sank. This¡­this had been the wrong time.

    ¡°Normally, I would say yes, but-¡±

    I hated how my mind hung itself on that ¡®but.¡¯ I read romance novels, yes, but I¡¯d always thought I could handle the situations much better than those blushing ingenues waiting to be swept off their feet. Now, here I was, doing even worse than they would. It was pitiful, ridiculous even. I was a member of the Black Flame, a diabolist, a practitioner of three arts with a body count that should have me hung by the Watch. And here I was waiting for what was coming after that ¡®but¡¯.

    ¡°The ballroom floor is fairly littered with corpses, the changer¡¯s corpse, and chunks of the ceiling,¡± Gregory continued. ¡°Also, your leg may not be in the best shape for it.¡±

    There was nothing I could refute as I swallowed any illogical objections to his points. ¡°Perhaps another time?¡±

    ¡°Perhaps,¡± he replied in a noncommittal tone.

    I tried not to wilt. I¡­it had been an overreach.

    ¡°Well,¡± I said. ¡°I think perhaps I should go back and see if I can try to clean up some of the mess I made.¡±

    Gregory frowned, opening his mouth, but I cut him off before he could object.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine,¡± I said. ¡°Like I said before, it is just down the hall. Besides, you have a family you wish to make sure are alright, don¡¯t you?¡±

    I turned around, not giving him a chance to respond. Truthfully, I wanted solitude, even for a bit. Or perhaps?

    There was no noise of walking behind me. He had not followed.

    I¡¯d messed something up, but wracking my brain, I couldn¡¯t think of what. Maybe the night¡¯s events had been too chaotic? Maybe a few nights'' distance between what had happened would help?

    But why was I so hung up on this? Why? It¡¯s not like I was some blushing teenage girl. That had already happened, had ended humiliatingly, and I had not pined half as much!

    I¡¯d had flings, as both Malvia Harrow and Katheryn Falara, a few relationships that had lasted a little longer, and something best described as a brief, ongoing disaster with Skall. Yet something about this had shoved a dagger into my heart and started jostling it at the worst possible times.

    Was it as shallow as him being a human noble? Was this just me trying to live out some fantasy from a book I¡¯d read?

    Was I just chasing an illusion I¡¯d built myself? A bit of forced, fake happiness in a miserable time?

    I closed my eyes, forcing myself to think of anything else, like the meeting soon to come.

    As much as I disliked the idea, it was time to go back and make an apology. As long as Voltar did not open his mouth, I might even manage it. I could even hear the sounds of them talking up ahead. I sighed, trying to tune them out, but the first words I heard made me pause.

    ¡°-Are you certain they are both gone?¡± the voice of Dawes said, low, but I could make out every word.

    ¡°They both went to the Ballroom,¡± Voltar replied evenly. ¡°And before you ask, there is no one else nearby who might overhear us.¡±

    I stopped, leaning against a wall instead of risking a step being heard. So, Voltar wasn¡¯t human after all, or at least had somehow augmented his senses. Of course, he should have heard me then and told Dawes, but perhaps he had forgotten about my own enhancement to my hearing?

    I wouldn¡¯t clue either of them in if I could. Clearly they were hiding something, and at this point I wanted to find a way out of the darkness I¡¯d found myself in.

    ¡°Good, because we need to talk,¡± Dawes snapped, the tone turned hostile. ¡°What are you doing? Your performance was fine the first week, but it is collapsing already, only held together by practically smothering anyone who knows Voltar in glamour. Poking those people repeatedly seems like the quickest way to strain that till it bursts. And how do you keep on knowing the answers? I know Voltar did not let you inside his head.¡±

    Glamour? Fey craft, designed to dull the senses, which, along with the rest, made for an easy-to-solve set of questions. They had a fey impersonating Voltar for whatever reason which¡­..my mind thought back to the Voltar from my time with the Black Flame. We¡¯d only crossed paths in person once or twice, but from reports to Versalicci I¡¯d sat in on, easily a hundred accounts of Voltar had crossed my desk.

    Dry, with a sharp mind like a knife cutting through any binding put to restrain him. Blunt in his descriptions, eager to explain his methods. True, not very secretive, but perhaps this was just the nature of this case? He had said he wanted to test me, and perhaps that-

    I shook my head, trying not to make much noise as I forced those thoughts off my head. Glamour, trying to shroud its own existence from me. So, I¡¯d been right about Voltar being a fey, in a way, at least for some of the time over the past two weeks.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    I moved closer, trying to move as quietly as I could. Luckily, their conversation was becoming quite loud.

    ¡°Oh, how do I keep on knowing the answers? Simple, I ask him, although about more than just that.¡±

    A hiss of indrawn breath, and Dawes¡¯ sounded angrier than he had at any point in the last two weeks.

    ¡°That was for if you found yourself in something you couldn¡¯t solve your way out of without your knowledge, not so you can bother him every hour of the day. And would you please change back?¡±

    ¡°You sure about that?¡±

    ¡°You already said Lord Gregory and Miss Harrow went back to the ballroom,¡± Dawes snapped. ¡°And I¡¯ve had about all I could stomach of my friend¡¯s voice being used by you.¡±

    ¡°Oh, you shouldn¡¯t get so upset all the time about that,¡± a smoky voice said. ¡°I prefer my own as well, so I¡¯m happy to use it instead.¡±

    Well, that sounded like my cue. I opened the door, a half-formed sentence spilling out of my mouth as I confirmed my suspicions.

    Standing in this room were two people, one of whom was Dr. Dawes, and the other was a fox-woman with fur of red and white with three tails poking out of her back, vulpine face in an easy smile as she turned to look at me. She was wearing a loose robe, which made a physique that should be anatomically impossible more apparent.

    It was best to keep those thoughts clinical with how loose that robe was.

    ¡°Back so soon, Miss Harrow?¡± The kitsune asked, a self-satisfied grin on her face while Dawes looked like he might be dying.

    I let a second drag out as if shocked into silence.

    ¡°I¡­I knew Voltar was a fey,¡± I blurted out, at the same time slamming the door behind me. It wouldn¡¯t do for anyone else to overhear this.

    ¡°Be quiet,¡± Dawes snapped at the kitsune with more anger than I¡¯d seen the doctor display yet. ¡°No, Miss Harrow, Voltar is not a kitsune.¡±

    ¡°She should just drop the act,¡± the Kitsune said with a grin. ¡°I know you heard us, little devilkin, enough of the conversation that your little deception is pointless.. And, as I said before, I am not a fey. Be glad I don''t rip your throat out for the insult.¡±

    Dawes glared at the Kitsune, then looked over to me, and I nodded.

    ¡°I wanted to see if she noticed,¡± I said. ¡°I figured she must have based on what she said, but that raises another question entirely.¡±

    ¡°Yes, it does,¡± he agreed, glaring again at the Kitsune as he moved to the only other door in the room, locking it.

    I kept calm. If they wanted me dead for discovering this, now would be the best time. Not while I was asleep in their house or traveling to there where fey magic could lead me to walking into a meat grinder, convinced it was the hatch to the attic. That might be possible. Kitsune specialized in trickery even more than usual fey, given the fey¡¯s tendency towards compulsion, illusion, and other such tricks that wouldn¡¯t be pleasant.

    An enclosed room with less space to dodge in, though? A different story.

    ¡°Why did you lie about her leaving?¡± Dawes asked the kitsune, who had settled in one of the chairs. At least, she had appeared to. Who knows where she might actually be inside the room?

    ¡°Accusing me of lying Dr. Dawes?¡± The Kitsune batted her eyelashes, a look of such obvious innocence that it must be fakery on her face. ¡°I will let you know I did no such thing. I told you the two children had gone back to the ballroom, but you never asked if one of them had come back.¡±

    Dawes groaned, moving next to me to lock my door.

    ¡°Should I be worried about that?¡± I asked, inclining my head to the door.

    You¡¯ve been tricked and lied to already, and you think that¡¯s worth even asking? The Imp said in my head.

    Dawes looked my way, the irritation on his face fading. ¡°No, Ms. Harrow, I just don¡¯t want anyone else bursting in, especially since the person I relied on to help me keep this secret has decided to the Hells with the entire notion.¡±

    ¡°Oh please, Dawes,¡± the Kitsune drawled as she sprawled across the chair, furry legs hanging over the armrest, which creaked in protest. Lord Montague might be down a functioning piece of furniture soon. ¡°Glamour can only go so far in matters like this, and our little hellspawn here would drag her mind out of a drugged stupor in regards to me eventually. Mind you, given how well she does at other things, maybe you¡¯re right that I could have dragged this out much longer.¡±

    A breath, then a second. It was easier knowing her nature. I¡¯d been frustrated trying to assign a motive, but Fey didn¡¯t think like others, their need for needling an itch to be scratched. Something similar to various other creatures, including the one currently inside my own head.

    Not that I was enthusiastic about now having two immortal irritants around me. At least this one wasn¡¯t in my head.

    ¡°The ¡®Hellkin¡¯ does have a name,¡± I said with forced pleasantness. ¡°Malvia Harrow, as I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve picked up on by now. I don¡¯t know yours, but maybe you can introduce yourself, and we can address each other properly?¡±

    The Kitsune¡¯s lounging was definitely going to break off an armrest at this rate as she looked up at me with disinterest. ¡°Nah, I don¡¯t think I will. You¡¯re going to die, go back to the Hells, and probably end up with a new name when you become a devil, and I¡¯ll have to remember that one instead. I will probably use it longer than the other one, especially since I have you pegged as a succubus once you get there, which will be a reason to actually spend time around you. You¡¯ll probably be much more bearable as a soul-eating monster.¡±

    ¡°Please be quiet Tagashin,¡± Dawes said, and the Kitsune¡¯s jaw closed almost mechanically. She glared at her own snout, then fixed her venomous gaze onto Dawes.

    So, he had a way of controlling her? It had to have its restrictions, or I doubted any of the last conversations would have happened.

    Dawes sighed. ¡°How to begin this? A few months back-¡±

    "My apologies for interrupting,¡± I said. ¡°But I¡¯m going to assume this is the same Kitsune involved in sleeping with the noble¡¯s latest generation of perverts? Shapeshifting into requested people before sex, things like that? You and Voltar caught her?¡±

    Dawes paused, eyebrow raised. ¡°More than just us. You know the story?¡±

    ¡°Gregory and one of the involved people told me the story. Not about you and Voltar being involved, I assumed that.¡±

    ¡°From there, it¡¯s not that complicated,¡± Dawes said as Tagashin winked at me. ¡°She¡¯s serving out a sentence for her crimes, assisting us here and wherever else Intelligence thinks her services are useful. For example, pretending to be Voltar when he needs to go undercover for Intelligence or one of our own cases. I¡¯m currently in charge of helping her do that, as well as keeping her safe, which hasn¡¯t been helped by you almost roasting her with diabolism.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll admit fault,¡± I said flatly. ¡°For being angry. For being angry a lot, recently. In my defense, I have been under a lot of stress. I also have been poked and prodded far too much by her, and I¡¯m assuming it¡¯s her, these last few days.¡±

    ¡°Oh, you should never assume,¡± Tagashin said. ¡°But I¡¯ve barely poked and prodded. There¡¯s so much more I could use from that shallow little swamp you call a life. Teasing you over your inability to have a love life is possibly one of the most merciful things, although maybe that¡¯s just because you wouldn¡¯t feel any guilt over the rest.¡±

    Right. Well, that was going nowhere.

    ¡°I hate to suggest it,¡± I said to Dawes. ¡°But I don¡¯t suppose Intelligence gave you some way to make her less¡­biting? Outside just making her be quiet.¡±

    ¡°Are you asking him if he can manipulate my mind to his ends?¡± Tagashin got up, moving to Dawes side and grabbing one of his arms to the doctor¡¯s discomfort. ¡°Because he does, and it¡¯s so disappointing what he chooses to do that doesn¡¯t fit the goals of intelligence.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d say telling you to stop impersonating my fianc¨¦e should fit the goals of intelligence, so you¡¯ll stop spending time trying to seduce me,¡± Dawes said. ¡°And also not wrecking my home life. And that¡¯s avoiding the number of times you¡¯ve jeopardized your own cover.¡±

    Tagashin yawned as the armrest underneath her finally gave way. She fell a few inches before freezing, held aloft by magic while Lord Montague¡¯s chair continued to utter sounds of protest.

    ¡°Like what? I¡¯ve been solving crime, capturing criminals, listening to people whose only qualification is who their parents had sex with whine about their problems before we solve them. And worse, unlike what I was doing before all of this, you won¡¯t even let me sleep with any of them.¡±

    ¡°You took Baron Tarver¡¯s accidental self-poisoning with bad clams and turned it into some cockamamie story about him killing himself with a boomerang,¡± Dawes said to Tagashin, his voice barely below a yell. ¡°Then you gave me a heart attack when you planted one next to the river to ¡®prove¡¯ his cause of death!¡±

    ¡°What did you expect?¡± Tagashin retorted. ¡°Food poisoning is hardly a case worthy of the great Voltar¡¯s involvement, so I made it more interesting.¡±

    ¡°He didn¡¯t even have a physical wound on his head!¡± Dawes exclaimed, his war to keep his voice under control a failing one. ¡°I had to go in later and fake one and say the bruising from the wound took a while to surface. It¡¯s a miracle no one questioned it!¡±

    I coughed politely, drawing both of their gazes to me as I grinned sheepishly.

    ¡°Pardon me for intruding on what feels like a well-trod argument, but I think maybe Doctor Dawes and I should talk alone?¡±

    Tagashin raised one of her furry eyebrows. ¡°First, you claim the young lord before I ever got a chance to. Now, you wish to claim another of the only men I also interact with. Are you going to make up for stealing them away from me?¡±

    ¡°Honestly?¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯d be tempted if it wasn¡¯t for your personality being like when the Nover catches on fire.¡±

    For once, the kitsune actually seemed slightly taken aback, and I took advantage of that silence.

    ¡°This is part of why I want a private conversation.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I can agree with that. Tagashin, please step out to another room, keep yourself hidden, and don''t eavesdrop for a minimum of five minutes.¡±

    Tagashin looked like she was considering biting my face off, but did step out, slamming the door behind her.

    ¡°She seems to be more trouble than she¡¯s worth,¡± I said, sitting down where the kitsune had been, enjoying the feeling of the plush cushions. My splinted leg continued to throb but felt less like I had knives jabbed into it. Between the broken armrest and the stains of blood and Hawkin¡¯s ichor I was adding to it, Tagashin and I had probably ruined some priceless family heirloom.

    ¡°I could say that about quite a few people,¡± Dawes muttered, settling down in another chair with much more care than me.

    ¡°That¡¯s unfair,¡± I said, checking my leg beyond the splint. It had held up surprisingly well so far, but I¡¯d need to look into a more permanent accommodation till I could hasten along the healing. ¡°I¡¯ll take my lumps for being difficult, but when I¡¯m being poked by the fey all the time¡­well, at least now I have a why. Even more of one if she¡¯s chafing against a leash.¡±

    ¡°I will admit outside me you¡¯re the one dealing with her the most,¡± Dawes said. ¡°What did you wish to talk about?¡±

    ¡°One question, doctor,¡± I said, looking Dawes in the eyes. ¡°Where is Voltar?¡±

    The doctor winced, looking to either side as if he could see through the walls for any potential eavesdroppers.

    ¡°Handling something I¡¯m not allowed to talk about,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m only broadly aware of what he¡¯s doing, but I do know he should have been back by now.¡±

    ¡°So, not only do we not have the empire¡¯s greatest detective handling this case, but he is, in fact off potentially being caught up in trouble,¡± I said, grimacing. ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound good. He is aware of¡­some of this, I assume?¡±

    ¡°He was here at the start,¡± Dawes told me. ¡°He left shortly before the entire mess at Lady Karsin¡¯s tower. From what I do know, this was rather sudden for everyone involved. He¡¯d returned just a few weeks ago, with the matter seemingly resolved, only to be called back into it.¡±

    ¡°If that doesn¡¯t spell catastrophe brewing,¡± I muttered. ¡°Well, at least I don¡¯t have to worry about him coming in through the front door and hitting me with a chair while I¡¯m trying to make morning tea. You decided not to tell me then?¡±

    Dawes frowned. ¡°To be perfectly honest, we both agreed that kind of trust has-¡°

    ¡°Not been earned yet,¡± I finished for him. ¡°I can understand that. I¡¯ve not exactly proven the best at keeping control of myself, and add in my past..I get it. I¡¯m not happy, but I get it.¡±

    ¡°I did argue we should try to provide some kind of explanation, but we didn¡¯t have much time to plan,¡± Dawes said.

    ¡°Well, this changes some things,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m less willing to take the lead of someone I know is a kitsune trickster who has been collared instead of a proven and seasoned detective. For a whole variety of reasons. How many of the shots has she been calling?¡±

    ¡°Not many,¡± Dawes clarified. ¡°Some suggestions, nothing more.¡±

    I drummed my finger on the chair''s remaining armrest.

    ¡°I¡¯d like the same. Actually, I want it regardless of Voltar being here, but right now, I¡¯d say I need it if I work in these conditions. Some knowledge of where we are going, some right to advise which way to go. No more springing things on me with no forewarning, partially because I assume she gets some enjoyment out of it.¡±

    ¡°It does help keep her from being bored,¡± Dawes admitted. ¡°I don¡¯t see any reason to say no, although my superiors might say otherwise.¡±

    ¡°Still need to meet with them at some point,¡± I said. ¡°So much to do, so little time. We¡¯ll need to discuss my ideas, but maybe not today, as there¡¯s still much to try and do before we can finally get some sleep. Anything else while we have a respite?¡±

    ¡°The diabolism,¡± he stated. ¡°I understand the extreme circumstances, but what happened earlier.¡±

    ¡°Won¡¯t happen again,¡± I said. ¡°And I mean it because if you want to bind me in blessed silver for the rest of this, do it as long as we get it off if another changer happens along. After? I might be tempted to pour diluted holy water down my throat again.¡±

    Dawes¡¯ eyes widened. ¡°Nothing so drastic should be needed. I think things might work out as long as we try to keep this incident contained around this. Well, like you said, time is short. Let¡¯s go get Tagashin and then go see what the Watch has been up to.¡±

    Tagashin was still waiting in the side room, having apparently settled examining and carving something into the surface of a bureau with her claws.

    ¡°Oh, I had a fun thought while you two stuck me outside,¡± Tagashin said with a grin lacking in any innocence. ¡°Tell me hellkin, what do you think would happen if I assumed your true form and went up to your aunt in front of the manor?¡±

    ¡°She cuts your head off,¡± I said without hesitation. ¡°Then, after discovering you are not me but instead a kitsune, she keeps on trying to cut you to little pieces. I know what you are because of stories of my great-grandmother carving her way through a tribe of your kind back in her heyday to reclaim a captured prince. And also having some of my relatives with them as well. My aunt would set the empire on fire to claim even a fraction of her past glory.¡±

    Tagashin pouted. ¡°Your aunt sounds like a foul and malicious person.¡±

    ¡°Oh yes,¡± I agreed. ¡°Hence why I¡¯m ecstatic at the idea of you provoking her.¡±

    Dawes groaned.

    ¡°I¡¯ll stop,¡± I said, while Tagashin made no such promises.

    The air shimmered around her, Voltar coming into being with a grin on his face my mind now registered as very far out of character for the great detective. She must be spreading glamour around by the ton to cover for all of this. But the ability to so easily project an illusion of someone else, that raised possibilities.

    ¡°Well, apprentice and trusted comrade,¡± she said in Voltar¡¯s voice. ¡°Back to the ballroom! There¡¯s a mystery afoot!¡±

 Chapter 62 - Afterparty III

    Reaching the stairs again, Gregory and most of the Watch had vanished, leaving only Malstein and a few Watch officers.

    ¡°I wonder if they¡¯re the only ones left,¡± I said quietly as I struggled down the stairs, ignoring the burst of pain traveling up my leg with each step. ¡°Outside of Lord Montague and Lady Karsin still locked up on the third floor.¡±

    ¡°I considered getting up there when we first entered,¡± Tagashin whispered. ¡°But the dragon spirit would have detected me simply, and I¡¯m not taking that on.¡±

    I couldn¡¯t fault the Kitsune for that. If the vessel they¡¯d made for it to inhabit were any indication of its power, it would be a formidable opponent.

    ¡°I have ideas,¡± I muttered. ¡°Ones that might require some cooperation later. It may be possible to get to the Montague¡¯s third floor. There aren¡¯t any doors for the rooms you can reach through windows, but if I were to get up there-¡±

    Malstein was coming over now, and I stopped talking. It wouldn¡¯t do to discuss exactly how I planned to break the law in front of him.

    ¡°Miss Harrow,¡± Malstein greeted us as he met us at the foot of the stairs. ¡°Lord Gregory mentioned it, but it appears you¡¯ve found Mister Voltar and Doctor Dawes.¡±

    ¡°Indeed I have,¡± I said. ¡°Locked up and tied up inside a closet.¡±

    ¡°They tied you up?¡± Malstein asked, frowning. ¡°That seems pretty merciful of them.¡±

    ¡°It was,¡± Tagashin said with a smile I should have known long before didn¡¯t fit Voltar. Damnable Glamour.

    ¡°They seemed pretty mixed on it themselves,¡± Dawes said hurriedly. ¡°As far as I could tell, they were worried about the deaths being detected by Lord Montague¡¯s spirit.¡±

    Curious. It hadn¡¯t detected the previous deaths.

    ¡°I can attest it''s actually them,¡± I said. ¡°Although I won¡¯t pass up using the paralytic to test them.¡±

    ¡°The paralytic?¡±

    I quickly outlined the method I¡¯d discussed with the others.

    ¡°Maybe you should stab them with it,¡± Malstein said, eyeing the two of them.

    ¡°It¡¯s them,¡± I assured him. ¡°Not that I don¡¯t think the suggestion has no merit, but I think it¡¯s better used testing those who aren¡¯t aware of it. Otherwise, they can fake the paralysis.¡±

    ¡°That could work,¡± Malstein said. ¡°A bit of an annoyance if they aren¡¯t a changer to deal with. And expensive depending on how much that paralytic cost to make.¡±

    ¡°It is,¡± I admitted. ¡°We do have one on hand to test methods on at least. Where is Mr. Hawkins?¡±

    ¡°Locked inside a wagon,¡± Malstein said. ¡°With two full squads of Watch keeping an eye on him. Even if he regains his shapeshifting, they¡¯ll notify the rest of us and try to delay him as much as possible. Detective, doctor, while I¡¯m glad to see you are both safe, I need to borrow Miss Harrow for right now.¡±

    ¡°Me?¡± I asked.

    ¡°You, yes. Something has arisen that I need your specific input on. Not through the front door, the side one.¡±

    Well, that was very suspicious. I eyed the number of Watch in the room. None of them looked like they weren¡¯t used to the uniform, and there were ten in here besides Malstein. What were the chances they were all changers? Not very high.

    ¡°I don¡¯t see any reason to refuse if you would excuse me, Doctor, Detective,¡± I said, bidding my farewells and then limping after Malstein as he moved towards the kitchen hallways I¡¯d traveled down with Gregory.

    ¡°Before we get too far, Captain, I have a question,¡± I said as he slowed his pace for me. ¡°I would appreciate some time to interrogate Mr. Hawkins? I don¡¯t need much time, but I¡¯d appreciate some to question him.¡±

    Malstein considered it for a few seconds. ¡°Under rules set by the Watch, I could arrange it.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± I replied cheerily. ¡°No torture without the good Colonel Colgraves being invited.¡±

    ¡°He left an impression on you, didn¡¯t he?¡± Malstein said as he resumed his walk.

    ¡°Captain, if you remove someone¡¯s fingers, it¡¯s hard not to.¡±

    ***

    Five bodies hung in the street.

    An archway of marble led to Lord Montague¡¯s estate, a gate of metal bars that could be used to control access to his little fiefdom in the city. White, pure, imperious. No longer any of those things.

    Five bodies hung from the pristine archway, ropes running over the top. They hadn¡¯t died from it. They lacked the signs, meaning they¡¯d been staged here afterward.

    The air was cold out, nipping at my exposed skin as a slight breeze passed through the street, carrying the stench of death and something else. No noise outside the muffled sounds of Watch members shuffling about or testing the ropes keeping the corpses suspended.

    Ash and grease formed the sign of the Black Flame on the archway between the ropes, the goat¡¯s skull staring down at us past the dead bodies.

    There were perhaps ten of the Watch here, most of them keeping watch on the other side of the open gate.

    They¡¯re still fresh, the Imp whispered in my head. You did well taking on the mask-wearer earlier, so I won¡¯t force it. But I desire my cows.

    Right, like I needed another reminder. I looked up at the bodies, looking at the faces. All humans, and two of them I recognized. Members of that group of Pure-Bloods Gregory and I had spotted outside Lady Karsin¡¯s estate.

    ¡°I¡¯m tempted to think this is related to the attack by the ¡®Black Flame¡¯ tonight,¡± Malstein said next to me.

    ¡°You can¡¯t be sure they weren¡¯t actually members,¡± I said quietly to Malstein, who snorted.

    ¡°The tattoos were surface only. Barely piercing the skin. Besides, I know Flame when I see it.¡±

    Interesting. He¡¯d said he¡¯d never seen the tattoo before mine. Had the good Captain hidden the extent of his experience when we¡¯d first met?

    ¡°Two of those hanging are Pure Bloods,¡± I said. ¡°The rest I imagine are also members, meaning there were likely killed by the Flame.¡±

    ¡°More than likely,¡± Malstein agreed. ¡°Could you track them?¡±

    ¡°Can I track them?¡± I said as I continued looking up at the bodies. ¡°I¡¯m not a bloodhound, Captain. They¡¯ll probably head underground at some point. What advice would I give for tracking them down there? Don¡¯t. They¡¯ll probably have an ambush set up for you underground, and having a common foe you¡¯re both fighting won¡¯t stop them from trying to kill any Watch members after them.¡±

    ¡°Your gang has the most pleasant people in it,¡± Malstein said.

    ¡°Former gang,¡± I corrected tersely. ¡°Besides, Versalicci would do it for anyone trying to follow them. He¡¯s not kept alive all this time by letting people know where he is.¡±

    ¡°It is strange,¡± Malstein said as one of the bodies was lowered to the ground. ¡°We did find a note on them for a ¡®sister.¡¯ I¡¯m assuming that¡¯s you.¡±

    I sighed. Really subtle, Gio. Now that he needed a conduit to the demon full-time again, I should have anticipated something like that. There¡¯d probably be a more public reveal of our relationship in the near future.

    ¡°That¡¯s me, yes,¡± I said. ¡°One parent shared, if you could call that thing a parent.¡±

    ¡°The Duke...the name escapes me,¡± Malstein said.

    ¡°Don¡¯t bother learning it,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s not good on anyone¡¯s throat. I never bothered learning it, and please don¡¯t tell any of the guests wearing fake Infernal accessories that I¡¯m descended from a Hell Noble Incubus. Could you pass me the letter?¡±

    A piece of paper, folded into precise quarters that I quickly unfolded it. I rolled my eyes at the Black Flame symbol on the back of it before turning it over to read the contents.

    Sister, I recently discovered some rats running through tunnels that didn¡¯t belong to them. I of course decided they should be eliminated, as one does all such vermin, but I remembered you yourself have had a pest problem quite recently. If you wish, I am willing to tell you exactly the methods of dealing with them and where I believe they might be coming from.

    I snorted, handing the letter back.

    ¡°I suppose you¡¯ve already read it?¡±

    ¡°The Watch only reads personal correspondence when there is probable cause of relation to a crime, Miss Harrow,¡± Malstein answered.

    The watchmen trying to hold onto the rope for the second corpse didn¡¯t get a good enough grip as her fellow sawed through it. The dead body plummeted to the cobblestones, both me and Malstein wincing as its legs snapped on impact with a resounding crack.

    ¡°Of course, I read through it. Your brother clearly wants something from you.¡±

    ¡°Hopefully, he¡¯ll remain disappointed,¡± I said, returning the letter. ¡°If you have mages who think they can track the ink, you¡¯re welcome to try, although I doubt it will be that easy.¡±

    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    A sufficiently skilled Hydrologist could do so, but even if the Watch had one in their employ, my brother hadn¡¯t lived this long by being careless. He would have covered his tracks one way or another.

    ¡°They¡¯re probably from the Pure Bloods'' new residence underground we¡¯ve already found the location of,¡± I said. ¡°At best, he might narrow it down some.¡±

    ¡°Do you know that for certain?¡± Malstein took the paper back, sticking it in a pocket on his overcoat, which I¡¯m beginning to wish I had one of. The chill air was a bit different when all you wore was a tattered cheongsam.

    ¡°I can¡¯t,¡± I said, turning my attention back to the hanging bodies. The Watch was preparing to lower one, someone cutting the tied off rope while the other held onto it.

    ¡°He tends to offer that which he knows his targets need, but he might not know what the captured Pure Blood is telling us already. And considering what his prices might be in return, I think there are safer ways to get that information.¡±

    The body lowered slowly until the Watchwoman had to let go of the rope, the corpse dropping the remaining few feet before crumpling onto the cobblestones. A Watchman immediately started moving towards the corpse, leaning down to grab it.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t touch the body if I were you,¡± I called out to the Watchman. ¡°At least not without gloves!¡±

    The Watchman froze, looking over at me and then at Malstein.

    ¡°I concur with the contractor, Officer Theodarian. Miss Harrow, do you want to look in his stead.¡±

    I raised an eyebrow at my sudden new status. Contractor? Within the hierarchy but with no actual authority. Pleasant.

    ¡°I can examine them, make sure they are safe. And maybe see if I can ferret out some clues towards where they came from.¡±

    ¡°Be my guest,¡± Malstein said. ¡°I can spare the bodies for a bit before they need to be taken to the Coffin.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d need gloves myself,¡± I said, holding up my two mostly bare arms. The dress had already been mostly sleeveless, and the fighting since then had left it in terrible condition.

    Malstein snorted and reached into his pocket, pulling out a pair of leather gloves and handing them over.

    No one I¡¯d ever met had ever described my hands as dainty, but they were swimming in these. Well, I¡¯d have to take some awkward moving as a trade-off for not accidentally poisoning myself. I knew by heart the most common poisons the Black Flame might smear bodies with, hoping to catch unwary Watchmen out when they brought them in for examination.

    I¡¯d pioneered some of the techniques myself. Something I could only hope no one in the Watch knew about.

    The first body was in good shape, having not come crashing down to the ground. The third body descended slowly as I leaned down. The two handling the lowering had learned their lesson.

    Leaning down hurt on my splinted leg, awkward and miserable, but eventually I got myself low enough to start examining the prone corpse.

    I sniffed the air as I leaned down by the body, but the smells were moldy and damp like one would expect from the underground. A tinge of chemicals perhaps, but nothing that was like the poisons we would smear that bore odors. That left the odorless ones, and I started looking for the spots they¡¯d smear. Under the shoulders where bodies were grabbed to be dragged, on the insides of clothes for when those were being taken off of the bodies.

    I blinked to check on the Astral, and nothing. Just the same corpse, with no sign of spirits of any kind. This is for different reasons than Lord Montague¡¯s manor, though. Soul-sucked.

    ¡°He appears to be clean,¡± I said. ¡°Both physically and astrally. I¡¯d still advise gloves that you¡¯re willing to dispose of when handling them, just to be safe. Versalicci¡¯s stocks are limited, so it¡¯s a slim risk, but more than nothing.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps you could have mentioned that before borrowing my spare pair of good gloves,¡± Malstein said.

    I grimaced. ¡°Apologies. I can buy you a new pair.¡±

    Assuming I ever actually was paid. I¡¯d not gone without anything I¡¯d asked so far at Voltar¡¯s, but actual hard currency was in short supply, at least in terms of any entrusted to me. Another thing to resolve when the actual Voltar was back.

    I grabbed the Pure Bloods'' chin, forcing the corpse¡¯s mouth open.

    ¡°Could someone please bring a lantern over?¡± I asked, and one of the Watch went to fetch one. The rest stared uncomfortably as I manipulated the corpse. ¡°If he has a moment, someone should fetch Dr. Dawes from inside. Ah, thank you. Could you angle it so the light goes into his mouth? I just need to confirm something.¡±

    It took only a second of viewing under the lantern¡¯s light to confirm what I suspected.

    ¡°Tongue¡¯s been cut out. After death, from the lack of blood, so reanimating the corpse won¡¯t give us any answers. If they accounted for the corpse, they¡¯d also account for the spirit. A look on the astral indicated no remaining spirit. Probably fed the souls to someone.¡±

    That got a collective shudder from everyone there, quite a few making religious signs with their hands, some of them pulling out symbols as if to ward away any Black Flame waiting in the shadows to eat their souls. Even Malstein looked somewhat unbalanced by my casualness about this.

    ¡°You¡¯re certain on that?¡± He asked, his tone just a little less steady.

    ¡°You could bring a necromancer to double-check, but I¡¯m quite confident,¡± I said, letting go of the head and checking the dead man¡¯s clothing and pockets. ¡°And whoever you get would need to be careful. This many precautions, they may have also decided to lay a trap on one of them. Pockets have been picked clean except for lint. Can you send some of the clothes to Voltar when you¡¯ve finished with the bodies? I¡¯d like to run an analysis on them, and see if they have residue or other elements they might have picked up underground. Anything to help narrow down where they were underground.¡±

    ¡°We do have our own alchemists on staff, Miss Harrow,¡± Malstein responded, carefully watching as I finished going through the pockets. ¡°I believe they can determine that on their own.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t mean to doubt their abilities, Captain,¡± I said, thinking through my response carefully. I needed to thread a needle here instead of outright saying I had any doubts in the information he would provide. I couldn¡¯t make this sound unreasonable.

    ¡°I do have experience with the underground directly, having accompanied several Delver teams down there,¡± I told him, keeping my hands in clear sight so it didn¡¯t look like I was pocketing anything. ¡°I just want to ensure we have as many eyes looking over potential evidence as possible.¡±

    Malstein thought it over for a second. ¡°If they can¡¯t find anything specific or narrow it down far enough, I¡¯ll send some to you. But until then, it will stay under my jurisdiction. Understand?¡±

    ¡°Perfectly,¡± I said, standing up with no small effort as I got my splinted leg back under me. ¡°Can I check the other corpses?¡±

    ¡°Certainly. But one other thing about what I just said. Do not attempt to leverage Voltar to try and get any of those clothes. His habit of taking evidence is beginning to reach its limit with the Watch. Maybe you¡¯d be kind enough to pass that on to him?¡±

    I nodded while wondering who that had been, Voltar or Tagashin? This felt like an old complaint, probably predating the Kitsune as much as I was tempted to blame any gremlinry on her. And also, it felt like if anything were truly needed Voltar would just need to lean on his connections to intelligence.

    ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do, but to be perfectly frank, he might respect your opinion more than mine,¡± I told Malstein as I went to the second corpse. I beckoned for the lantern-bearer to come closer, most of the other Watch wandering off.

    Probably not far. They¡¯d want to be close in case Malstein needed me handled.

    ¡°So says the only one of us currently living in the man¡¯s house,¡± Malstein said as I handled the second corpse, carefully moving the splintered remnants of his legs out of the way.

    ¡°You assume that equals respect, but I have to disagree,¡± I said as I opened up the jaw, the lantern-bearer already letting light shine inside. ¡°I am¡­.a curiosity? Relative and lieutenant to one of his greatest enemies, diabolist, potentially turning over a new leaf. It¡¯s easy enough to fit a collar on me till he figures out how to pierce a mask.¡±

    ¡°A good blow typically works for that,¡± Malstein said as I confirmed the lack of a tongue and checked the pockets. ¡°Also, ¡®potentially turning over a new leaf¡¯? Bit dangerous to phrase it that way, I¡¯d think.¡±

    I snorted as I finished with the pockets, moving to the shattered legs to check the bottoms of the boots.

    ¡°Even if I didn¡¯t say it, I imagine it¡¯s what people are thinking. It¡¯s not like my brother hasn¡¯t pulled off more insidious schemes in the past. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve read some accounts yourself.¡±

    ¡°I have,¡± Malstein said as I removed the broken-off feet from the boots, turning them over and looking at the soles. ¡°Even if you agreed to a mind-reading, that couldn¡¯t be a certainty, could it? He¡¯s shown a willingness to tinker with the brains of his people in the past.¡±

    ¡°More than you might imagine,¡± I replied. ¡°Interesting. See where the boot leather is cracked on the surface? Looks powdery and red underneath. Acid damage, sulfuric specifically. There¡¯s places you can encounter it, but underground¡­.some monsters expel or excrete it naturally. Something to work off of.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen it before,¡± Malstein said, frowning as he looked down at the boot. ¡°And it certainly hadn¡¯t been underground when it started doing that. How do you know about it?¡±

    ¡°It can happen as part of the dyeing process,¡± I replied, putting the boot next to it¡¯s dead owner. ¡°But those are more common among book-bindings than boots, so this was likely exposure. Potentially walking through some, which would indicate very high amounts of it. As for how I know, there were experiments involving acid coatings. They didn¡¯t end well. Next corpse?¡±

    They¡¯d finished lowering that one and number four, with number five halfway down by now.

    ¡°There aren¡¯t just records of Versalicci in there,¡± Malstein said as I got to work on number three. ¡°You have quite the file on you, everything you¡¯ve done. Even without the Diabolism being known and anything that came from that, quite the impressive list .¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure they are described in the most flattering words,¡± I said as I checked the chin first once again. ¡°Are they going to be a problem?¡±

    ¡°You seem rather convinced it won¡¯t be,¡± Malstein said. I paused in my examination.

    Had the invitation here been for more than just the note left behind? Or something else besides that? I did not try looking at anyone besides Malstein, but if I had would I find any firearms leveled my way?

    ¡°Is there a problem between you and me, Captain?¡±

    Malstein¡¯s expression was carefully frozen. The kind of mask you wore when you didn¡¯t trust your ability to fake anything but nothing.

    ¡°Not today. And not till this is over.¡±

    ¡°After?¡± I ventured.

    ¡°Hopefully our paths won¡¯t cross. Anything with this one?¡±

    I turned my attention back to the body to distract myself from our current conversation. Prying wouldn¡¯t result in anything but risking piercing that mask. I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d like what was behind it.

    ¡°Missing wedding ring. You can see where the skin¡¯s been covered up. Strange none of the others have one.¡±

    ¡°Danny O¡¯Shea.¡±

    I paused. I didn¡¯t recognize the name, but there was a weight on it that made it apparent this wasn¡¯t some light remark.

    ¡°I¡¯m unfamiliar with the gentleman,¡± I said, continuing my examination, moving to the boots. Sulfuric acid damage again. I¡¯d probably find it on the first corpse¡¯s as well, if I went back to them.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t think you were, but it never hurts to ask. The other names as well. Acid on the boots?¡±

    I took the out offered away from talking about the name. Asking might open a door I couldn¡¯t close.

    ¡°Yes,¡± I said. ¡°Since it¡¯s sulfuric it might be a chemical process producing it. There are creatures that do it, but unless it¡¯s combined with more esoteric substances or is enhanced with magic most creatures don¡¯t use it as a weapon. It is probably a creature producing it, since some make it more resistant to water vapor, which bonds easily to it. This reduces the number of creatures that could be making it, to four that I can remember for certain, and none of them are common.¡±

    ¡°Are any of them the Basilisk?¡± Malstein asked, the heaviness gone from his tone.

    I got up from the corpse, looking around to see Watch members either busy at work or bored standing guard. Perhaps that had been all they¡¯d been doing this entire time?

    ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°The Basilisk doesn¡¯t produce it. It¡¯s already dangerous enough without. No, but the four that do are notable enough that the Delver¡¯s Guilds would have noted it. I¡¯ll see about getting that information as soon as I can, unless you want to handle that yourself?¡±

    Malstein considered for a few moments, then shook his head. ¡°No, the Delvers have never been fond of the Watch. Spirits too independent. Admirable in their free-spirited nature though.¡±

    Unlike some, was the unsaid portion of that. I straightened up, not moving to the fourth corpse.

    ¡°Who is Danny O¡¯Shea?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Was,¡± Malstein said, bitterness creeping into his tone for that word. ¡°He was a member of my squad. Years ago. Along with others. Most of them buried, at Black Flame hands.¡±

    ¡°My hands?¡± I said, keeping a careful eye on the lanter-bearer. He hadn¡¯t moved, and none of the other Watch had either.

    ¡°I cannot say,¡± Malstein said, that face of stone back. ¡°Perhaps so, perhaps not, but you hardly spent all your time with Versalicci cutting throats personally.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m hardly responsible for anything the Black Flame ever did,¡± I protested, and that face of stone cracked.

    Malstein breathed in, then out, recomposing himself. ¡°Entirely? No. But this talk isn¡¯t productive. You should head back to the rest of the guests now.¡±

    I lingered. Should I try to say something else? Try to convince him that my responsibility in his comrade¡¯s death was minimal at most?

    He was right on how he would be likely to take that. It''s best to stick with this. He could hate me, but as long as he was professional, I could work with that.

    And with that, I left.

 Chapter 63 -Afterparty IV

    The walk back from the hanging bodies was only fifty feet to round the corner of the manor. It felt close to ten times that as I walked, the wind picking up. It carried a chilling bite that bit down to the bone. My hooves nervously clopped along the cobbles of the road at an uneven pace. There were Watch on both sides, several within sight of me, and I still had enough magic to rot any shapeshifter I spotted till I could escape.

    It didn¡¯t stop me from trying to hurry up my pace even as my leg throbbed in protest. I still needed to examine it myself, see how bad the break had been. It had looked horrible on the floor of the manor, but it didn¡¯t feel anywhere near that bad.

    An unwanted thought crept in my head at that thought. The Diabolism I¡¯d ran through my leg to be able to move may have burnt out nerves, necrotized flesh. The reason it might not hurt might be because I was walking on a dead leg.

    I did my best not to think about that.

    I was near the corner now, nodding to the Watch as I passed.

    Guests were gathered in the front, most of them lying down, a few upright. Their servants were in their own section. A third where the wounded were being treated by a couple of doctors. One of them had probably splinted my leg. A loose perimeter of Watch around them all, keeping anyone from leaving. I moved in, waving to them.

    ¡°From Captain Malstein,¡± I said. ¡°I might leave with a few others if that¡¯s alright?¡±

    I didn¡¯t spot any familiar faces; the three nearest me traded glances.

    ¡°Not outside the estate,¡± One of them replied, and I nodded before limping past.

    Gregory Montague was talking to his brother Henry, and I limped over there first. No sign of either Dawes or Tagashin disguised as Voltar.

    ¡°Malvia,¡± Gregory called out. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you can get me out of here?¡±

    ¡°I can,¡± I said. ¡°Don¡¯t know if it¡¯s the best place to be for right now. They¡¯re keeping everyone here?¡±

    ¡°Until they¡¯re certain whose a shapechanger and who isn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°We do have an idea for the test,¡± I said back to Gregory. ¡°Albeit one I don¡¯t think is going to work for more than a few people.¡±

    ¡°We are not stabbing people,¡± he said. ¡°Just think of how that¡¯ll look in the papers if it came out there was a series of stabbings at one of my family¡¯s parties. The scandal!¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t need to stab someone for it to work,¡± I said. ¡°Just need to apply it to skin. But again, we don¡¯t have too much of the paralytic. Have they found that assistant cook who arranged for the carriages, Dalian?¡±

    ¡°Not accounted for yet,¡± Gregory said. ¡°They¡¯re still searching the manor, and they¡¯ve found eight bodies so far, besides the dead in the ballroom. None of them are him.¡±

    ¡°Well, he¡¯s either made his escape or is trying to experience life with a slit throat,¡± I said.

    ¡°Unpleasant but probably true,¡± Henry Montague said. ¡°Dalian has never seemed disloyal in the time I¡¯ve known him, but I¡¯ve been gone for a while. Gregory?¡±

    Gregory was lost in thought for a moment. ¡°His wife died. He had children, but I saw less of them after she passed. Maybe they¡¯ve been kidnapped?¡±

    ¡°If they were, they¡¯re probably dead now,¡± I muttered. I¡¯d been looking over the three groups: guests, servants, and wounded. There was a group missing. I needed to-

    ¡°There she is! One of the Black Flame members!¡±

    One of the young noblewomen who¡¯d grabbed my tail pointed at me, the statement delivered at a shriek that rang through my ears.

    ¡°I beg your pardon?¡± I asked while every head within fifty feet turned my way.

    ¡°She¡¯s got the same tattoo as the others. She¡¯s one of them!¡± One of the younger nobles insisted.

    ¡°I fought them,¡± I snarled back. ¡°And this is not the same tattoo. You go back into that ballroom, and you¡¯ll find rough work with needles. This was cut precisely into skin and beyond it. Does anyone need me to carve my skin off with a knife so you can see this pattern carved into my bones?¡±

    That didn¡¯t make any of them back off, and I was far too aware of how much my splint limited me all of a sudden.

    ¡°Hold on folks,¡± Henry Montague said. ¡°I can¡¯t speak to the young lady¡¯s allegiances, but she did help fight off that attack. I wasn¡¯t the only one who saw. Mrs. Xang?¡±

    There was some demon down in hell dedicated to making my path be forcibly intersected. At least it was only Aunt Diwei standing nearby who looked my way and, to my astonishment, bowed in my direction.

    ¡°Lord Montague speaks the truth,¡± she said stiffly as she straightened back up. ¡°This one resisted the taint in her blood to fight those who could not. A credit to her triumphing over the influence of her race.¡±

    It was tempting to tell my aunt exactly what I thought of her compliment, especially the phrasing, but I swallowed that. Do not make things worse Malvia.

    ¡°Thank you for the compliment, Mrs. Xang,¡± I said, matching her bow.

    Aunt Diwei¡¯s eyes narrowed just a tad. Shite. I¡¯d done the bow too well, hadn¡¯t I? Of course actually being nice to her had made her question if that movement was too practiced. She¡¯s been one of the ones to drill it in me after the age of eight after all.

    ¡°I must confess my part,¡± Gregory Montague said. ¡°You all know how I tend to get myself into sticky situations. Well, there was a genuine concern with one of the later ones that someone might try to kill me, so I hired someone recommended as my bodyguard. I¡¯ll not lie. Some of it was for other reasons besides her abilities.¡±

    That got both disapproving looks and chuckles, which I did my best to ignore as attention went off us again, and I resumed our discussion.

    ¡°A quick question for the both of you. The band your father hired, do you see any of them?¡±

    Both of them stilled, and I bit down on my tongue. Gregory I got to an extent, but I was hoping an army officer would have the wherewithal to not look pole-axed for everyone to see.

    ¡°Do not start running through the guests, trying to spot them,¡± I warned. ¡°The last thing we need is tipping any changers off. The Watch has done counts?¡±

    ¡°As best as they could,¡± Henry Montague said. ¡°There was a count, but well, we don¡¯t have a full list.¡±

    ¡°Of the guests?¡± I frowned as I considered the implications of that.

    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    ¡°The guests. The outside help. The guards were tracked but that¡¯s because he was paying them for time not spent guarding the archives.¡±

    ¡°Count on Father to keep track of it when money is involved.¡±

    ¡°Count on Father to keep track of everything but us,¡± a new voice said as a stranger walked up to us.

    A young brunette woman in an evening dress walked up behind us.

    ¡°Elise, I see you¡¯ve finally left your beau for the evening,¡± Gregory said.

    ¡°Elise. You¡¯re the one who got caught making out with someone in your brother¡¯s sick room, correct?¡± I asked.

    Elise Montague¡¯s smile faded just a little, irritation creeping into her eyes.

    ¡°Yes,¡± she replied. ¡°That was me. To father¡¯s eternal disgust. I suppose I should thank whoever attacked the party tonight that I actually got a chance to leave the manor. If father had his way, I¡¯d be stuck there till he found someone more suitable for me to marry.¡±

    ¡°Oh please Elise,¡± Gregory said with a chuckle. ¡°You weren¡¯t going to marry him. If you were, you would have picked an empty room instead of choosing to lock lips over William. You know how easy it is to rouse him before he got poisoned.¡±

    ¡°As opposed to you who tried the same within full view of the entire party?¡± She spat back and I suddenly became very interested in the texture of the cobbles underneath my hooves.

    ¡°Now, that was all Miss Harrows idea,¡± Gregory said, and I started considering if I could pull off the one-legged kick then collapse again like I had with Voltar.

    ¡°Maybe we should focus on the possible loose band of shapechangers and not who bears responsibility for certain actions tonight?¡± I asked looking up and pretending not to see a few different smirks. ¡°Their carriage would be near the same servant¡¯s entrance as before?¡±

    ¡°It shouldn¡¯t be anywhere else,¡± Gregory said as I led us past the cordon of Watch, quickly arranging our passage through, reluctantly adding Henry and Elise to those I¡¯d planned to take through. ¡°Then again, tonight has been a night of things not being where they should be.¡±

    ¡°That it has. Miss and Captain Montague, before we go any further, I don¡¯t suppose either of you are a secret mage of some kind? Just in case we are about to stumble across a group of changers.¡±

    Both Henry and Elise looked at me in mild bemusement while Gregory rolled his eyes.

    ¡°I may not have mentioned my religious affiliation to Miss Harrow when we first met,¡± Gregory confided in the other two. ¡°So she might be suspicious of all of us as a result.¡±

    Elise Montague rolled her eyes. ¡°It just slipped your mind like so many things do, don¡¯t they brother?¡±

    ¡°In my defense, during our first meeting, I was on my back with her on top,¡± Gregory said lightly. ¡°A saber pressed against one¡¯s throat tends to make one¡¯s mind blank on important details. As well as other thoughts trying to crowd them out.¡±

    Wait. Had he just-?

    Elise frowned. ¡°One moment. I thought that was the one father accused of poisoning William? Katheryn Falara?¡±

    All three of them were now looking at me, Gregory sheepishly and his two siblings searchingly.

    ¡°I just want to make clear,¡± I said as calmly as I could, some bite leaking through into my words. ¡°I have outlined, multiple times, why me poisoning your brother is possibly the stupidest possible thing I could do. Your father, with as little offense intended as possible, has refused to listen at every opportunity.¡±

    ¡°That sounds pretty insulting even with as little offense as possible,¡± Elise noted.

    ¡°And something being moronic is hardly a defense,¡± Henry added. ¡°Some of my superiors more notorious designs were utter stupidity but they still made them.¡±

    ¡°Not to mention some of your defenses have been maybe a touch on the ¡®it would be inefficient to kill him this way¡¯ side,¡± Gregory finished.

    Was he joining in on this? ¡°I have no incentive, no way of having done so, on top of which, in a case where shapechangers are clearly involved, is any evidence your father was given even slightly solid?¡±

    The three siblings traded a look between them I couldn¡¯t decipher.

    ¡°Oh definitely not,¡± Gregory told me. ¡°In all honesty I think pretending you weren¡¯t Falara is just silly.¡±

    ¡°Father¡¯s never been the best at getting things right with people he looks down on,¡± Elise added. ¡°Which you qualify for in several different categories.¡±

    I looked at Henry Montague, who simply shrugged.

    ¡°I got here yesterday. I¡¯ll take these two¡¯s word that you didn¡¯t poison William. That is what you two think right?¡±

    ¡°She would, but she doesn¡¯t have a need to,¡± Gregory said.

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t going to be that harsh,¡± Elise said with a mildly reproving look at her brother. ¡°Miss Harrow seems a bit rough around the edges, but I don¡¯t see any reason why she¡¯d poison William. And you know how father is when someone puts an idea in his head.¡±

    Gregory hadn¡¯t been wrong, but I kept my mouth closed for now. Instead I continued onwards to the wagons and carriages along the side of the manor.

    Watch patrols moved among those now, many of them with doors flung open. Dead Infernals lay scattered across the ground leading to the manor side entrance. I limped past, waiting for the Montagues to pass by and direct me to the band¡¯s carriage.

    It was a large wagon, more rustic than I expected for them, the wooden door set in it¡¯s side locked tight. A few minutes with some tools fixed that, and I opened the door.

    Inside were scattered instruments, some clearly damaged from the lack of care they¡¯d been tossed around with, and the clothing the band had worn earlier, empty and with their owners nowhere in sight.

    ¡°Interesting,¡± I said, looking among the scattered clothing of the disappeared band. ¡°Only two, hells only one that we can prove went after your brother. But easily a dozen could have been here as the band. Two of them maybe went to lock up Voltar and Dawes, then went off as me and Gregory...and did what? If anyone witnessed it, they¡¯d have mentioned it by now, and we can ask if anyone saw us in the manor while we were fighting on the roof. So that¡¯s four accounted for? Out of twelve?¡±

    ¡°Was it even Hawkins who killed Calab?¡± Gregory asked.

    ¡°Maybe, maybe not, but that¡¯s beside the point. This should have been easy. I don¡¯t know what your father has on that third floor, but it was sufficient to engage one changer but not enough to stop Hawkins from escaping.¡±

    ¡°Do you know there were only two on the third floor?¡± Henry asked. ¡°You and Gregory mentioned being on the ceiling, so how much of the third floor could you have seen?¡±

    I paused, considering that. ¡°Right. Can¡¯t leap to assumptions. I only saw what looked like two peering down the chimney. But there could have been more on the third floor. But the waltz was coming to an end when the assault from the fake Black Flame began? And the screams from the third floor started when that ended. A few minutes at most. Enough time for all twelve to come here and shuck their clothes, then make it to the third floor unobserved?¡±

    Everyone remained quiet for a bit, thinking it over.

    ¡°Considering what Hawkins could turn into,¡± Gregory said. ¡°Its not entirely impossible.¡±

    ¡°Not entirely, but very unlikely,¡± I said. ¡°And this is ignoring how lax your father was. Outside help was brought in. No guards along the outside perimeter. Placed in isolated rooms. If they¡¯d been patrolling outside instead of spread out in packets along the rooms, less chance of this. Individually, many of these don¡¯t seem too suspicious, but added together.¡±

    Three displeased faces looked at my own.

    ¡°While I am generally for anything that inconveniences him, you are not stabbing my father,¡± Gregory said.

    I rolled my eyes. ¡°Yes, yes, I get that.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think you do,¡± Gregory continued. ¡°I¡¯m not particularly fond of the old man, but you are not harming him.¡±

    The other two didn¡¯t disagree, either verbally or with their expressions. Fine, it wasn¡¯t what I aimed for anyway.

    ¡°Perhaps this night was a recon in force,¡± Henry Montague offered. ¡°If they wanted to test the defenses, get the lay of the land.¡±

    ¡°Maybe,¡± I conceded. ¡°If they gave up on replacing your brother. It doesn¡¯t explain your father¡¯s actions, though.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s been no personality shift,¡± Gregory said.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think he¡¯s a Changer,¡± I said. ¡°If anything, a Changer wouldn¡¯t need to be sloppy. Just leave a window open somewhere, and don¡¯t post guards near it. Done. No. I¡¯m not sure why yet, but we¡¯ve discussed before when his behavior changed.¡±

    ¡°You think he found something in the archives.¡±

    ¡°I suspect so,¡± I said. ¡°Something¡¯s changed. Something that resulted in tonight being allowed to happen. This should have been far worse than it was. A dozen shape-changers on the loose? All of them were presumably as capable as Hawkins was. Yet, instead, they leave. Why?¡±

    Gregory was frowning, thinking. His two siblings seem less convinced.

    ¡°Do you think the answer to that is in the Archives?¡± Henry asked.

    ¡°Not all of it. Some of it? Maybe. Because what I have besides that are leads I can¡¯t be sure go any deeper than the surface or people to interrogate who might not tell the truth.¡±

    ¡°The archives are massive,¡± Elise said. ¡°Thousands of books. It would take lifetimes to read all of them, and if Father has removed any relevant volumes, they won¡¯t be there at all.¡±

    ¡°That depends, is there a record kept of the books removed or looked through?¡±

    All three traded a look again, and I leaned against one side of the wagon, taking some weight off my splinted leg as I considered all of them.

    ¡°Listen. Whatever else, we might get some answers. An end to this. Because it¡¯s entirely likely your father deliberately put not just you but your brother William in harm''s way tonight. So. Are you willing to help me find them, or will I need to try this on my own?¡±

    The look between them lingered a little longer before Henry spoke up first.

    ¡°There is a record, and we can help. Maybe. What did you have in mind?¡±

 Chapter 64 - Afterparty V

    Returning to where the remnants of the party were gathered, there was nothing but silence between me and the other Montagues.

    There¡¯d be a meeting tomorrow, where two of them would come over, and we would begin to discuss how to get one of us into the archives. I hoped so at least, there remained the possibility that they would choose not to and instead to inform their family. All three of them had been distant since that agreement and a lot more somber than I expected.

    I couldn¡¯t place exactly why. None of them seemed to like their father, but the idea that he¡¯d had his own scheme running tonight wasn¡¯t sitting well with them. Or maybe some sense of duty to the Archives?

    The silence hurt in more ways than one. It left nothing else to focus on while my body continued to protest the fact I was still moving when I shouldn¡¯t be. Not just my hoof, my back and neck where divine magic had burnt the skin. My shoulder still ached from where teeth had nearly gone into bone. Nicks and cuts all over, my palm where the stab wound through had been closed by my last health potion but not too tightly. It could reopen. Adrenaline had carried me part of the way, the health potion the rest but that was fading.

    There was nothing to focus on but each of those aches and pains as I limped towards the rear. A space had developed between me and the siblings from my slow pace, only a few feet but it suddenly felt like a thousand.

    Going back to the front of manor at least gave me something to look for. Looking over the groups for the band, for Voltar, for Dawes, Lord Montague, Malstein. I did spot one.

    Voltar had just left the ballroom, alone and without Dawes. Oh brilliant, the Kitsune had been on her own inside the manor. I limped on over to her as fast as I could.

    ¡°Where have you been?¡± I whispered to Tagashin as the Montagues went over to the rest of their family in the group of guests, who seemed more restless than before. The shock of the evening was fading. Soon they¡¯d be demanding the right to go home.

    ¡°Poking around,¡± she replied in faux innocence. The coyness of the reply felt even more unsettling in Voltar¡¯s voice. How had I ever fallen for this charade?

    Living next to someone capable of practically coating me with Glamour every night was probably why. I¡¯d need to keep that in mind for the future and keep my guard up around the Kitsune. Hopefully the bounds enforced by Imperial intelligence were high. Then again, Dawes, her supposed handler, was nowhere in sight.

    Then again, he was my handler as well. Neither of us were making that easy for him.

    ¡°By poking around, do you mean the guests or parts of the manor?¡± I asked. ¡°Because earlier, it seemed the manor would be quite risky for you.¡±

    The Voltar-guise¡¯s smile faded just a little. ¡°It is. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve noticed the lack of spirits inside. It makes doing things in there...difficult.¡±

    I could not even begin to guess the mechanics of the fey¡¯s magic, so I¡¯d have to take their word on it.

    ¡°So the guests then. Trying to ferret out any changers?¡±

    ¡°Among other things. It''s irrelevant to the case, but the little things I¡¯ve overheard are entertaining. But in terms of directly finding changers? Nothing yet. I¡¯ve mostly focused on the smaller groups, twos, and threes, trying to isolate themselves. That would be my guess for the remaining numbers of changers.¡±

    Well, it was nice to be more in the know than the kitsune, even if the specifics of that weren¡¯t good information.

    ¡°Not quite,¡± I said, then outlined briefly the missing band¡¯s carriage. ¡°So while it is entirely possible they chose to flee, there is the possibility they are still here. Albeit riskily. I can¡¯t imagine the Watch¡¯s scouring of the manor for the dead is going to take too long.¡±

    ¡°Depends on how well they are hidden,¡± Tagashin replied. ¡°They didn¡¯t have any mages of note among them, so they may not catch all of them. Maybe it is worth checking the insides of the manor if I can charm the spirit guarding it. A dozen or more shapechangers?¡±

    ¡°If there are non-changers among the group, I don¡¯t see any reason for them all to ditch their clothes,¡± I said, before frowning. Why had they left the clothes behind? Something else to check on.

    ¡°Oh, I could think of a few reasons,¡± Tagashin replied coyly.

    ¡°I doubt they decided to waste time doing that,¡± I noted.

    ¡°It is a party,¡± Tagashin said with a smile. ¡°Are you denying that if nothing had interrupted that party, you wouldn¡¯t have ended up seeing how well Gregory could play a violin?¡±

    ¡°Maybe,¡± I said as coolly as I could manage. ¡°Maybe not. It¡¯s hardly even a first date if it¡¯s under an assumed name, wouldn¡¯t you agree?¡±

    ¡°Not as easy to fluster when he¡¯s not right here, are you?¡±

    ¡°Maybe,¡± I said. ¡°Or maybe your barbs are so blatant that they¡¯re losing their efficacy. Did you focus on the guests or the servants?¡±

    ¡°The latter,¡± Tagashin answered, seemingly abandoning the needling for now. ¡°Do I need to spell out why?¡±

    Just the needling over Gregory was being dropped then.

    ¡°You don¡¯t need to,¡± I replied, looking out where the servants were gathered. The manor guards had been left alone for now, perhaps because the Watch corralling armed men and women wasn¡¯t as easy as the unarmed. There were a lot fewer of them left than I expected. The second wave of Infernals coming in from the kitchens had taken their toll.

    That part of the deception was actually dead on, if one assumed the Black Flame operated like a drunk, rampaging animal. Actual Black Flame operations have never considered servants anything but additional obstacles in our way. Nobles and people of good reputation didn¡¯t hire Infernals as servants back then. It simply wasn¡¯t done. Concerns about them among our ranks had been...small. No horns, no need to worry.

    More often than not, they had been a hindrance, even if I couldn¡¯t agree with some of the things more malicious members of the gang had done. Silencing was one thing. Taking things further was unconscionable.

    ¡°Servants aren¡¯t paid attention to,¡± I said. ¡°And one could even put on a face that wasn¡¯t even here tonight and claim to have been an outside hire to help with the party. Of course, it feels like hiding among them is pointless. They missed their shot. Lord Montague will keep his son sealed up on the third floor tighter than ever. Everyone is vigilant. The window where the swap could occur with as few questions as possible is over. Unless they really messed things up, they should know if Edward Montague is a shapechanger or not, and pretty soon what his new personality may be like.¡±

    ¡°At the end of the day, perhaps Lord Montague will wish a changer has replaced his son,¡± Tagashin noted with a smile.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think so,¡± I said back. I didn¡¯t care too much, but I didn¡¯t think that poorly of his lordship. Then again¡­.well, not my problem.

    ¡°Speaking of being replaced by changers, where did Dawes go? Not to sound paranoid, but every second one of us is gone on their own here is time they could get replaced in.¡±

    We needed a method for this. I could make more of the paralytic, but that was an awkward solution at best. Experimentation would probably be needed, specifically on Hawkins.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, he¡¯s not locked in another closet,¡± Tagashin snickered. ¡°He¡¯s with the captain trying to coax Lord Montague out of that third floor.¡±

    ¡°Maybe he will,¡± I muttered. ¡°I imagine his Lordship might be reconsidering staying there with every second that passes while he¡¯s up there and his guests and family are in the open on his front lawn.¡±

    Pig-headed as he was, I couldn¡¯t see him risking that much damage to his reputation. Tonight had already been a disaster for him, something I could already anticipate his anger for. I hadn¡¯t compared the number of guests out here to those who I¡¯d watched enter the party, but there were plenty missing at a glance. Some of them were just wounded, but others were dead, and every one of them had family, powerful family.

    Blame would be spread around a fair bit tonight. The lion¡¯s share, I was sure, would go to the Infernals. To most people, the Black Flame was not a household name. The details of our activities were never announced to the public by ourselves or our enemies. It was a swing and a miss on the part of the changers, but all it meant was that Infernals in general, would be blamed for most of tonight¡¯s events. The Changers some as well. There was no hiding Hawkins, but by the time it had worked its way to first the papers and then down to the streets, who knows how much the story would change.

    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    Hells, I¡¯d bet a sovereign that my defeat of Hawkins using Diabolism would be turned into Hawkins being a monster created with Diabolism by the end of the week.

    But another person blame was sure to fall upon? The host, the man so many guests had entrusted with their safety, Lord Bartholemew Montague. That would be a difficult needle to thread for him and all his family. I felt sympathy, more towards those of the family I¡¯d met who hadn¡¯t met me with hostility, but their patriarch?

    Given how he¡¯d handled security, he¡¯d practically invited this on himself.

    ¡°It shouldn¡¯t matter too much,¡± Tagashin said, looking up at the third-floor windows of the manor. ¡°We got what we wanted out of tonight. Let him sulk inside his halls.¡±

    ¡°Did we get what we wanted out of today?¡± I muttered. ¡°You tell me. Your plan, Tagashin.¡±

    Not-Voltar¡¯s expression remained an easy smile, and I would not trust for a second my read on the Kitsune. Still, I¡¯d like to imagine that the sudden freezing of expression was not just my imagination or assumptions.

    ¡°We did catch ourselves a shapechanger,¡± She said, looking over to a Watch wagon surrounded by nervous-looking Watch. ¡°I¡¯d say that makes tonight a success.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I said. ¡°Interrogation isn¡¯t easy, especially when you only have one. Ideally, we¡¯d have two, so I want to know if any more changers were on those upper floors. We have bits of hints and clues, and I¡¯m presuming their grand attempt to replace Montague has resulted in failure. Meanwhile we also have a bunch of dead corpses, some of which are going to need someone to answer for their deaths-¡±

    ¡°Am I interrupting?¡±

    ¡°Lady Karsin,¡± I said, curtsying as best I could in the splint.

    I did keep myself from falling over, while Tagashin bowed. Lady Karsin returned the gesture.

    She¡¯d practically crept up on us, although Tagashin should have been able to see her approach. Why did the Kitsune choose not to say anything? Something to think about later.

    ¡°I thought you were with Lord Montague on the third floor, milady?¡± I asked.

    ¡°It opened up not that long ago,¡± Lady Karsin replied a mite sourly. ¡°I made my way out as soon as it had.¡±

    Not even trying to hide her disdain for Lord Montague¡¯s company? No, it''s best not to read into that too much. Fleeing up there only to deal with rampaging changers could explain that just as well.

    ¡°He¡¯ll be down shortly then?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Soon,¡± she replied. ¡°He was talking with Doctor Dawes and the Watch Captain on the scene and seemed very interested in talking with you, Mr. Voltar.¡±

    ¡°I imagine he wants to discuss the events of tonight,¡± Tagashin said. ¡°I hope tonight¡¯s events weren¡¯t too disturbing for you, Milady?¡±

    ¡°I lived through Her Most Profane Majesty, detective,¡± Lady Karsin said. ¡°This? A trifle to live through. Lending a hand upstairs was perhaps a bit refreshing.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± I said. ¡°We should compare notes sometime. You probably saw my handiwork on your way out.¡±

    ¡°Yes, the stench was quite overwhelming.¡±

    Well, I had rotted that flesh. It wouldn''t smell of roses.

    ¡°I believe you were talking to the detective about the efficacy of his plan? And you mentioned capturing a changer? Surely not the same one whose remains are scattered around the ballroom?¡±

    ¡°The same,¡± I confirmed. ¡°I think I just overwhelmed his biology and some¡­core was preserved. They are interesting creatures to be able to produce so much mass. By all rights, it shouldn¡¯t be possible even under most bio-sculpting tenets.¡±

    ¡°Very impressive knowledge on bio-sculpting for a Tarver Novitiate,¡± Lady Karsin said.

    Right, she thought I was Danielle Waters. Tagashin spoke up first.

    ¡°A necessary deception, Lady Karsin,¡± she said as Voltar. ¡°One that worked in the end. This is Malvia Harrow, formerly of the Black Flame.¡±

    ¡°Quite a few of you are popping up,¡± Lady Karsin noted. ¡°You¡¯re the one who changed Skall¡¯s appearance and later told Voltar, aren¡¯t you? From your performance in the ballroom, an alchemist and a diabolist as well?¡±

    Thank you Voltar, or Tagashin, for deciding this was the way to go with this.

    ¡°Both of those things,¡± I said. ¡°My apologies to you on giving Skall a new identity, I should have known from personal experience how deranged she could be.¡±

    Karsin¡¯s eyebrow raised. ¡°I would hardly call Skall deranged.¡±

    Well, you never shared a bed with her, for one thing. This was moronic.

    ¡°Well, maybe she had been getting better. Just not in all the right ways. Lady Karsin, is my prior affiliation an issue?¡±

    ¡°If the detective vouches for you, no, I think not.¡±

    That might have been more reassuring on a personal level if the ¡®detective¡¯ was not a fox-tailed fey, probably pumping glamour by the pound into the elf.

    There was the sound of yelling from the main entrance to the estate, followed by the sound of the doors being forced open.

    ¡°If I might bother you for a second mi¡¯lady?¡± I asked her as Lord Montague strode out of the manor, a dozen guards and even more Watch following.

    Both Dawes and Malstein were there, talking animatedly with him. I couldn¡¯t hear them yet, but from the expressions on their face I did not have much time before that crisis would be right in our faces.

    ¡°I have one,¡± Lady Karsin said, also watching the nearing storm. ¡°Briefly, while I might still get out of here.¡±

    ¡°I have a method, not perfect, but I think it will work well, of determining if someone is a shapechanger or not. I would like to offer to test your son using it.¡±

    Her gaze snapped back to me, eyes narrowing.

    ¡°What would the cost be for it?¡±

    ¡°No cost,¡± I replied, trying to let the tensions ease out of me in preparation for what was coming. ¡°In terms of you paying me or to your son if the test doesn¡¯t work. If he isn¡¯t a changer, he¡¯ll experience a definite inconvenience, but only briefly.¡±

    I could hear the conversation between Lord Montague, Dawes, and Malstein now, and it didn¡¯t sound pleasant.

    ¡°-either Voltar turns up right now or my guards search this estate for him right now!¡±

    Lady Karsin coughed, looking over my shoulder.

    I looked behind me, seeing nothing. Until I looked down.

    ¡°What in the hells do you think you¡¯re doing?¡± I asked the crouching Voltar behind me, Tagashin apparently deciding I¡¯d be useful as a shield of some kind.

    ¡°Taking cover?¡± The kitsune replied with a wink that sent a shiver down my spine.

    I¡¯d make a remark about how terrible her disguise was, but Lady Karsin was right here. Kitsune were powerful, and this one especially needed to be considering how her illusions and glamour were being wielded like a club. Definitely not part of the stories I¡¯d been told as a child, about great-grandmother¡¯s cunning and guile needed to match the wits of the Kitsune she¡¯d fought.

    Well, more than fought, if the stories were true. I was suddenly struck by a very unpleasent possibility regarding Tagashin I immediately swore never to think about again.

    Still, why be so blatant and use even more magic to cover up for it? It could not be easy even for a powerful fey to rely on this so liberally, to test the limits so much. People would notice sooner or later, the illusion would thin. Then again, why should she care? She was a prisoner in this like I technically was, but unlike me she seemed to have very few personal stakes in all of this.

    I ignored the Kitsune for now, turning my attention back to Lady Karsin.

    ¡°The test?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll allow it,¡± Lady Karsin said. ¡°If you¡¯ll tell me what it is first.¡±

    ¡°At a later time?¡±

    Lord Montague was now only a couple dozen paces away and nearing fast. Unsurprisingly, hiding behind my knees had not kept Tagashin from being spotted.

    ¡°Certainly,¡± she said, already heading away from us as Lord Montague neared.

    I limped off to the side, only for Tagashin to move along with me, Lord Montague¡¯s unamused expression on the both of us. Unamused and maybe with a glimmer of suspicion. Damn it all, Tagashin.

    From the expression on Dawes¡¯ face, he was thinking much the same thing.

    ¡°Not my idea, your lordship,¡± I said, moving away from Voltar once again.

    ¡°Foulhorn,¡± Lord Montague said to me, the distaste in his voice only matched by the look on his face. ¡°I¡¯ve seen your handiwork in the ballroom, so I will acknowledge you¡¯ve done me a service despite any harm you might have caused. As yourself or any of...whoever knows how many identities you¡¯ve pranced around me as, duplicitous creature that you are.¡±

    This sounded like a fantastic acknowledgment of having helped save his guest¡¯s lives twice, but I limited my response to a stiff nod.

    ¡°I¡¯ll pay you this one kindness. Leave right now, or you might not find it so easy to in a few minutes.¡±

    Ominous. I nodded, then moved to the side. The kneeling form of Voltar rose up onto it¡¯s feet, and I wasn¡¯t sure if Tagashin was actually there or merely casting an illusion of Voltar in that space.

    ¡°Lord Montague!¡± Tagashin greeted Montague cheerily while the noble¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°How nice of you to finally join us from the safety of your-¡±

    Lord Montague slapped Tagashin in the cheek, the force of it twisting the fake Voltar¡¯s side as it echoed across the courtyard. Conversations ended as everyone turned to look as the host of the party then drove his other fist into Tagashin¡¯s stomach. To everyone but the two of us who knew, the Empire¡¯s Greatest Detective fell to the ground, curling into a ball.

    My eyes flickered between the prone but probably faking Tagashin and a Lord Montague who looked angrier than I¡¯d ever seen him before. Too angry actually, a mask. A show. Ah.

    Why come down from the third floor when he¡¯d refused to so far? Something had changed, and he¡¯d gotten what he wanted out of tonight. And by doing so he no longer needed us. How could Lord Montague help salvage some of his reputation tonight? By simply speaking the truth.

    He had done me a service with his warning, and my head start meant I wasn¡¯t standing right next to the focus of everyone¡¯s attention. I kept my limping retreat at a slow pace though. Moving too fast would draw far too much attention.

    Poor Dr. Dawes was not as lucky, stuck right in the middle, especially as he moved in between Lord Montague and Tagashin. Montague made no efforts to continue his assault though, instead turning to the assembled guests, servants, Watch, and everyone else from tonight.

    ¡°I would like to announce to all those assembled here,¡± Lord Montague yelled as Tagashin disguised as Voltar got back to her feet, illusory hand caressing the struck cheek.

    ¡°I was originally going to cancel this event, in light of recent events regarding my son. As you may be aware, he was poisoned, by a concerted alliance of foul entities seeking to undermine the empire. A gang of foulhorns steeped in Diabolism, and shapechanging monstrosities from the distant past. For the safety of my son, my family, and all of you, I was going to cancel the ball, until I was convinced by one person that instead it could be used as a trap to end this threat once and for all. Mr. Voltar told me it would be worth the risk, that he would ensure the safety of everyone here. In that he has failed miserably.¡±

    I limped further even as Malstein hesitated. Sure, a lord of the realm had just assaulted someone, but the Watch barely had the numbers here. I counted guards as I continued to limp. Far more than I¡¯d seen throughout the manor. Far more than I¡¯d seen down in the ballroom during the attack of the fake Black Flame. The Watch would have more, but spread out throughout the estate, and besides, how much would Malstein stick his neck out for Voltar?

    Not very far was my bet. Not unless they got dragged into this.

    ¡°He suggested to me people to help, organizations to call on the aid of. To their credit, they have tried their best, from those I already had confidence in, such as the Watch of our great city, to those I doubted the most, such as a foulhorn diabolist who, at great risk to herself, killed one of those shapechanging monstrosities and several of her former criminal comrades! But still, he could not protect us to the extent he promised. Part of that is on me for letting myself be talked into this-¡±

    As I continued my retreat I felt a tug inside my brain. Not a literal one of course, more a pulling sensation that there was something I needed to do still.

    I didn¡¯t want to listen to the entire thing anyway. I limped faster towards the ballroom.

    Time to see what the Imp wanted.

 Chapter 65- Afterparty VI

    I limped back to the ballroom where we left, considering the rotted remnants of Hawkins littered about. Gregory and others had eliminated the leftover Infernal energy so it had stopped actively decaying, instead now left scattered about. Chunks of pale white flesh oozed as it continued a more natural process of decomposition.

    Dead Infernals still dotted the sea of white flesh, hardened black bits breaking it up. No one had bothered to gather them up for burial yet. Had any even survived this assault?

    I¡¯d only visited an archway, and it had been clear. That was hardly the only way in or out of the estate though, and the Watch had probably been the more merciful of the groups performing clean-up.

    I doubted the Changers had planned any escape routes for them.

    Lady Karsin hadn¡¯t lied about the stench, the mixture of rotting Hawkins and charred Infernal combining for an assault on the senses that made my stomach churn. I wrapped a sleeve off one of the dead guards over my nose.

    It didn¡¯t help much, but it was enough. I didn¡¯t feel like emptying the contents of my stomach all over the place.

    There were still Watch here, around the edges of the ballroom near the various exits and the shattered windows. They all had impromptu masks on as well trying to block out the smell, and quite a few watched me as I limped towards the middle of the room.

    If we were to talk, I¡¯d prefer as little chance of people thinking I was talking to the air. Or, given what they¡¯d witnessed, that I was talking to a devil.

    They weren¡¯t wrong, but I did not want a musket ball through my grey matter.

    ¡°Alright, Imp,¡± I whispered. ¡°What do you want?¡±

    I am owed girl, the Imp said in my head. I am owed-

    ¡°Cows, yes,¡± I snapped. ¡°I am aware, Imp, and I won¡¯t deny you deserve all of them. I¡¯ll arrange it.¡±

    It is appreciated, but it¡¯s not what I refer to.

    I froze. It wasn¡¯t testing the boundaries of the contract, was it? Mouth dry, I limped forward, aiming for one of the ground-level hallways. If I started leaking Diabolism because of the Imp¡¯s actions, I couldn¡¯t even blame them if they took aim. Or hells, if the Imp started trying to manipulate my body, made it look like I was changing into something more Diabolic-

    Stop. Moving. I am not about to try and push the boundaries of the contract.

    I paused, then tried to make it look like I¡¯d taken an interest in a nearby piece of changer flesh.

    ¡°Finally admitting you can read my thoughts?¡± I muttered.

    I cannot. One of the more infuriating parts of the contract your brother forced on us to make you weak. I can tell when you are so blatantly obvious of what you think.

    I chuckled nervously, deciding to play along for now. ¡°Or perhaps he appreciated my privacy and didn¡¯t want you peering through my head?¡±

    There are ways of setting it up to allow communication and not let me sift through your every errant thought. Your brother did it to limit our ability to communicate without him knowing. It¡¯s why I insisted on a code, but you were too slavishly devoted to him back then like you now insist on pursuing someone else to replace him in that manner.

    I clopped angrily through a sea of half-rotted flesh, considering kicking some of it as that last bit sank in.

    ¡°Do not even remotely insinuate something like that ever again, Imp,¡± I said. ¡°Comparing those two.¡±

    Perhaps a step far in a direction for one, but how well do you really know the little black sheep? But that is irrelevant to what I am owed.

    ¡°Ten cows,¡± I said, generously adding a few extra onto it to try and appease the little devil.

    Not relevant! They are what I am owed for aiding you in your lackluster performance of the craft, since everything you can do when not being directly instructed by me or copying out of a book can be summed up as rot, flame, and necrotizing yourself in an effort to keep your body put together! A cow for that, for keeping it from infesting your flesh too deeply.

    I did not like the sound of that ¡®too deeply¡¯ added to the end there.

    I warned you to take the Focus. And you needed it. I told you at the start they would be unworthy of trusting with your life, and they have proved it. The noble? Selling you out to the crowd outside to save his reputation. The Watch Captain? Has all but said only his professionalism is keeping him from taking revenge for his dead comrades.

    ¡°Malstein has been nothing but professional,¡± I said carefully low so no one in the hall could hear me mention their captain¡¯s name. ¡°You exaggerate Imp, and twist to make it seem like the whole world is against me.¡±

    Am I? I would hardly be the only one. The detective you put trust in isn¡¯t even here. Instead, a Kitsune has decided to try and make you her puppet on a string.

    ¡°That Kitsune is the farthest thing from a string-puller,¡± I countered. ¡°She is a shit-stirrer more interested in prodding my buttons than anything else.¡±

    She has admitted to practically drowning you in glamour, while the good doctor watches on and makes the barest efforts at restraining her. And who has helped you? You said you wouldn¡¯t need Diabolism to fight the changers, that others would help? What others?

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    ¡°Gregory helped,¡± I said. ¡°Amna and Tommy as well. I was hardly alone.¡±

    And did you not use the powers granted by your father¡¯s blood? Besides, the two Watch? Who did essentially nothing? Gregory? Who left you amongst his own kind to be poked and prodded like the curiosity you are to them and him?

    I scowled. ¡°You are wrong on the latter, you hateful little thing.¡±

    Am I? Or am I simply not projecting a fantasy on top of him like you are so dedicated to doing? Indulging in some escape from reality and choosing to ignore whatever is inconvenient to that end? Or that he is not doing the same?

    ¡°Be quiet,¡± I hissed and realized too later I¡¯d ventured too close to a Watchwoman, a tall half-elf who was considering me the way one might a cloaked stranger following them at night.

    ¡°Apologies,¡± I said quickly. ¡°Just thinking out loud, that was not directed at you.¡±

    She nodded slowly, but her unease didn¡¯t end. It''s not hard to understand why a Diabolist arguing with voices in her head wasn¡¯t much better than one snapping at you.

    ¡°The sweeping of the manor, has it turned up any more bodies?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Not at this time,¡± she said, a forced sense of calm to her tone. The kind you told when you weren¡¯t sure what kind of response you might provoke, so you aimed to cause none at all. ¡°The occasional body but typically hurt at the hands of well.¡±

    Her eyes flickered to the half-roasted corpse of an Infernal near the stairs, and I nodded before wandering back toward the middle. Where Watch would be less likely to hear me, although this one¡¯s eyes would probably be on me for the rest of my time in here.

    ¡°What do you want, Imp?¡± I whispered. ¡°Provoking me over this isn¡¯t making me more charitable to your viewpoint.¡±

    I want you to resume your lessons in Diabolism.

    I scowled. ¡°No.¡±

    Are you not even going to consider it? Your defeat of this creature was by a thread. And you clearly are no longer entirely opposed to it¡¯s use.

    ¡°Desperate times call for desperate measures,¡± I replied. ¡°And excuse me my lack of enthusiasm for not wanting to explore a method of spell-casting that risks letting the Hells in whenever I use it.¡±

    Do you think that part of the art has never been considered? The Imp said.

    ¡°My understanding was it was always considered more of a benefit than a drawback,¡± I replied drily. ¡°Letting a little more of the Hells into the material didn¡¯t seem an issue to most I encountered.¡±

    Because your brother is a fearful little creature who wants an excuse to put down any who get too powerful, The Imp snarled. All his plans and his schemes and yet what gnaws at him is that he never inherited the craft.

    ¡°Making a lot of assumptions I don¡¯t see being supported too well Imp,¡± I said. ¡°People don¡¯t spread rumors about him being one who has hidden it so well for no reason. I wouldn¡¯t be shocked if he proved capable.¡±

    Irrelevant. He tried to shackle those who work under him.

    ¡°And you didn¡¯t mention this at any point before because?¡±

    What would your reaction have been to me saying that? You stopped listening to me, far before you stopped listening to him. Again, you attempt to evade the point. You clearly have lost your qualms about using it in certain instances, so be willing to let yourself be more than blunt hammer ramming into objects!

    The Imp sounded¡­.well, passionate, which it rarely did about anything besides food. And much like that conversation in the attic, it had stretched the truth some.

    ¡°I decide where the lessons cut off,¡± I told it. ¡°Which means no summoning.¡±

    The arsenal is reduced by that, but fine. We can begin tomorrow, in the evening. But I want my cows first.

    ¡°You¡¯ll get them.¡±

    I¡¯d talk to Dawes about seeing some cows delivered tomorrow morning. Then take the remnants of my dress off, and take a long, warm bath and maybe some tea.

    I¡¯d need another one tomorrow, but I wanted to at least sleep feeling clean.

    Speaking of leaving, Dawes had just run inside, a mixture of fury and alarm on his face. He beelined for me.

    ¡°Things outside not going well?¡± I asked as he stopped, panting slightly.

    ¡°They are not,¡± he said in between gulps of air. ¡°Tagashin tried countering Lord Montague¡¯s points. It did not go well.¡±

    ¡°Maybe should have muzzled her,¡± I suggested.

    ¡°If Voltar did not defend himself from the accusations of others, it would look even more suspicious than putting up a lesser defense than he normally would,¡± Dawes said. ¡°Admittedly, she could maybe try to match Voltar better. It¡¯s not going entirely poorly. That might be an exaggeration on my part, but she¡¯s certainly not winning.¡±

    ¡°Do we have much time?¡± I asked. ¡°I do need something of a head start if we need to flee here with an angry mob on our tails. How experienced are you at that art, Doctor?¡±

    ¡°Far more than I wished ten years ago,¡± Dawes said, his breath easing some. ¡°Captain Malstein offered me the use of a Watch Carriage out of here if we needed one. You and I.¡±

    ¡°Not Voltar?¡±

    ¡°His opinion when asked, and I quote, was ¡®There¡¯s no saving some people from themselves¡¯.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s getting worse at impersonating him, isn¡¯t she? You mentioned it when I found out, but without glamour clouding my eyes, it becomes harder and harder to ignore. Have you considered letting her off the chain a little?¡±

    ¡°Considering how badly she acts when chained, I hesitate to consider how she would act unchained.¡±

    ¡°Not too badly, I¡¯d think,¡± I said, getting an annoyed look from Dawes. ¡°Not lying. I can definitely understand the anger people had over her imitating them by request of whoever she slept with, and I hardly expect she kept those photos out of wanting some memories. Still, if she hadn¡¯t been caught in the form of Her Majesty, would this be so heinous? Let¡¯s not joke about why Intelligence wanted to keep her on a leash.¡±

    How many fey of that caliber came to Avernon? Maybe once a year if they were fortunate? Actually catching one would be even more unlikely. Of course, that left the only question as to why she was running around with a pair of detectives instead of doing something more substantial.

    ¡°Yes, well, with the situation we are in now, I think letting her off would end poorly for either of us,¡± Dawes said. ¡°It¡¯s almost resulted in very personal issues for me thrice in as many weeks.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s a fey,¡± I said. ¡°Fey get bored; they poke at things, hoping for a reaction. She¡¯s gone malicious because she¡¯s surrounded by the people holding her leash. Maybe let her off a little?¡±

    ¡°And have you end up wanting her dead?¡± Dawes said. ¡°Her needling of you led you to near-assault when you thought it was Voltar himself. Where will that end up if she¡¯s given more slack?¡±

    ¡°Fair enough,¡± I muttered. ¡°Probably a conversation to finish at your house. Personally, I¡¯m looking forward to a good night¡¯s rest.¡±

    ¡°A while off for me,¡± Doctor Dawes said. ¡°I do need to keep her safe, as much as it might chafe me to do so, I¡¯ll be off to try and convince Captain Malstein to help me get her out as well, assuming it¡¯s not escalated.¡±

    It didn¡¯t sound like it. The yelling from outside wasn¡¯t of the kind you heard with a mob, nor was there the sound of fighting. Just that of two very stubborn people arguing with each other.

    ¡°Maybe you should let it continue if it hasn¡¯t,¡± I muttered. ¡°Let them spend their time ramming against each other, not us.¡±

    Dawes sighed as he looked back towards the entryway. ¡°As tempting as that is, Tagashin is doing so disguised as my friend, and for the sake of his reputation, I should probably try to end this. Will you be taking the Watch carriage back?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll find my own way,¡± I replied. ¡°I am somewhat averse to getting into a Watch carriage, I¡¯m afraid. I have my own experience at walking the streets at night.¡±

    Dawes frowned. ¡°Your leg is broken.¡±

    ¡°And yet I still walk. I will be fine, Doctor; how about you go keep your other charge safe? She sounds like she needs it a lot more than I do.¡±

    The doctor considered saying something else, but eventually went out the door. Watching him go, I limped over to the servant¡¯s exit.

    It was going to be a long walk back.

 Chapter 66 - Butchery I

    I woke up tired, aching, and in a miserable mood, but alive.

    I¡¯d probably have been in an even worse mood, but a warm bath did wonders, even with the effort needed to keep my splint out of there. Taking off the remnants of my poor dress and getting modest had been my last efforts before collapsing into bed and getting some much-needed sleep.

    I¡¯d woken up paying for all of last night¡¯s activities. The last pain-blocking effects of the potions had faded, so my entire body was nothing but agony. There were parts of me that merely ached instead of burned as I moved down from the attic. It took nearly half an hour to get to the ground floor with the splint.

    The good news was I had somehow not managed to kill off nerves or necrotize my own flesh when I¡¯d used Diabolism to force my leg back into place. There were some minor effects, nothing that wouldn¡¯t eventually heal on its own. The main thing would be letting it heal independently, especially because trying to probe it with Biosculpting wouldn¡¯t be wise. There might still be bits of DIabolism in there that my body would slowly process. Touching them with another form of magic was begging for something foul to occur.

    I had examined my right hand, the one turned a darker shade of crimson and found nothing wrong with it physically. Something for the imp, but first, I did need to pay what was owed.

    So, instead, I was spending my morning focused on something that would improve my mood. Hot water boiled in a pot as I carefully picked out the correct number of tea leaves to add to the pot.

    Impatient waiting as the pot brewed till it was ready and at a drinkable temperature. Tiny little sips at regular intervals helped draw me out of the pain, and larger gulps when the pain spiked. It kept me somewhat capable of focusing.

    To my detriment, considering the newspapers in front of me. They¡¯d been on the doorstep in the morning, one from each of the city¡¯s major newspapers.

    Infernal Gang attacks Noble Party at the estate of Lord Montague.

    Infernals and shapechangers attack noble ball in the dead of night

    Disaster was barely averted as Infernals and bio-sculpted monsters attacked the family of Lord Montague.

    Shapechangers make a return? A strange assault on noble¡¯s ball.

    Attack at recent party linked to Infernals, Shapechangers, and Empire¡¯s Greatest Detective

    The most common picture shared among them all was of the ballroom, still not cleaned up, scattered bodies of burnt Infernals and the flesh of Hawkins. Either Lord Montague had allowed that or somehow, a camera had been snuck in. Probably the former. He already had his spin to minimize the effects on his reputation.

    Reading the articles didn¡¯t make me feel any better. The reporting emphasized the attack of the Infernals since that had caused the most deaths among guests. No headline named the Black Flame, but the articles themselves mentioned them several times, mostly in interviews with Malstein, Lord Montague, and even a few with ¡®Voltar¡¯ which at least seemed to be sane and rational. Various guests, some watchmen, Amna, and not Tommy. Family members. Maybe I should have stayed long enough for my exclusive and then even more agonizing pain in the morning.

    Versalicci wouldn¡¯t take this well. Some part of me wondered if it might be better to leave this in his hands, since he clearly had a lead on where this underground lair was. Then I considered the idea of him with Shapechangers.

    That could not be allowed.

    I was mentioned a few times, mostly as Danielle Waters, occasionally as Malvia Harrow by the two people I really wished had not. I supposed I couldn¡¯t do much about Tagashin, but all Hells damnit Gregory!

    At least he had not let slip to reporters that I was also Katheryn Falara, which would bring a host of uncomfortable consequences. Lesser ones like Lord Montague trying to kill me. Greater ones like my family, possibly putting two and two together.

    Besides that, the lesser emphasis on the Shape changers¡­.perhaps someone had quietly suggested to the newspapers to emphasize the part of the story less likely to drive everyone to paranoia in the coming months. They¡¯d done a piss-poor job of it, considering the pictures with the remnants of Hawkins strewn about, a sea of insect legs and chunks of white, blubbery flesh. And Lord Montageu¡¯s entire speech laid the blame at the feet of Voltar.

    This was all a mess. The temptation to just stay inside and heal up was mounting while the world outside went mad. At the bare minimum, I could have a day, couldn¡¯t I?

    ¡°Changer in the front room!¡± Dawes shrieked next to my ear.

    Startled, I flailed as my chair tipped backward. My splinted leg hit the bottom of the table, and all coherent thought left as fresh pain went through it.

    I collapsed onto the ground, holding onto my leg as agony rippled through it.

    Dawes stood above me, smiling uncharacteristically smugly with a tray in his hands.

    ¡°Tagashin,¡± I growled, then tried to move into a sitting position.

    ¡°Just making sure you were awake,¡± she said, looking at the table. ¡°Ooh, you made tea?¡±

    ¡°Hands. Off.¡± I said as I gripped the chair, pulling myself up. ¡°Touch my tea, and I don¡¯t care how precious you are to Intelligence. You¡¯ll be a melted pile of charred and decaying flesh.¡±

    ¡°Pleasant,¡± she remarked, pouring herself a cup despite my warning. ¡°And just when I made breakfast for you.¡±

    ¡°I made breakfast,¡± the actual Dawes protested from the next room over. ¡°I thought we agreed that since Miss Harrow looked thoroughly out of it, to leave her alone?¡±

    He walked in, a second tray in hand, frowning as he looked at me lying on the ground.

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    ¡°You did tell me I should let her off the leash a little,¡± Doctor Dawes said apologetically.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t say to let her off on me!¡± I hissed as I grabbed my chair, trying to pull myself up using it.

    ¡°Well, it was your suggestion, and...well, now you see why I don¡¯t do it.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s why you shouldn¡¯t listen to her. She¡¯s a pretty good font of bad ideas,¡± Tagashin said.

    ¡°Peace. Miss Harrow, Tagashin and I have our own tasks to pursue today. I¡¯m assuming you¡¯ll want at least one day to rest up?¡±

    I sighed. ¡°I would prefer it, but no use letting time slip by. Can¡¯t afford to in some cases. Are either of you going to Lord Montague¡¯s estate?¡±

    Tagashin raised her hand while grinning.

    ¡°I need to meet some of the Montagues later today,¡± I told her. ¡°Elise, Harry, or Gregory. Any of them that are available. Could you pass the message along?¡±

    Hopefully, she wouldn¡¯t find Gregory. The worst case scenario I envisioned was how she might phrase said invitation, especially if people were around to overhear.

    ¡°Certainly, and if I have the time, I¡¯ll bring them over myself.¡±

    ¡°Good. Doctor Dawes, this will sound strange, but I need some¡­livestock.¡±

    ***

    Dawes delivered quickly on what I wanted, having them all ready for me within an hour inside one of the other houses Voltar owned on the street. I didn¡¯t know how they¡¯d entered the house, but they all waited for me in a large room, just big enough to allow them some space from me as I entered.

    Walking across the room clued me in to that as hollow echoes followed the clop of my hooves on the wooden floor. Well, since he''d been nice enough to help put these in a place where no one could see, I wouldn''t question why they had an underground entrance large enough for a cow.

    I¡¯d dressed in a heavy butchering apron over some cheap clothes of mine as well as heavy boots and gloves. Necessary since I doubted any amount of cleaning would help with what was to come.

    In front of me, ten cows occupied the large room, most of them seeming put off by the enclosed space they found themselves in. A few had gone over to a trough that had been dragged in filled with grass, munching away. A few were drinking from a second filled with water.

    ¡°Moo,¡± one of them said placidly, staring at me while chewing.

    Of course someone had gotten them grass. Make this as difficult as possible. Were these regular features of the room?

    You do eat beef, The Imp said in my head. This honestly is not too much different. Closer to what your ancestors did than you do.

    ¡°If you think that makes this easier, you are very much mistaken,¡± I said as I limped closer. ¡°Do they have to be living? They¡¯ll die after enough bites anyway, and I do not need my leg broken again.¡±

    The Imp audibly sighed. I suppose some allowances will have to be made. The taste is better when alive, decreasing from the moment the heart stops. So while I¡¯d prefer you not kill all of them at once, I suppose to avoid you being stampeded, you can do it like that. The taste of rotting flesh, however, is horrendous, so do not use Diabolism on them. And one of them live.

    ¡°Wasn¡¯t planning on it,¡± I replied, moving over to the water trough.

    I produced a vial, and considered the volume of water remaining. It should be enough. I poured the mixture in, then went to a quarter to wait.

    One by one the cows eventually took a drink over the next hour till only one was left. It¡¯s fellow surrounding it. They¡¯d drifted off to sleep, one they¡¯d never wake up from.

    The remaining cow was nervous as I approached. Only to be expected, it was an animal but it could tell its fellows were not sleeping. It shied away as I approached, backing up and lowering its head. No horns, but I still wouldn¡¯t want it ramming me.

    What the Hells ultimately are about is desire when you get down to it Child, The Imp said in my head.

    ¡°Really?¡± I muttered as I took another step closer to the cow, which huffed out a breath.

    I will take every opportunity I can to hammer knowledge into your skull since you¡¯ve decided to be more receptive.

    I held a hand out towards the cow, hoping to lull it into a false sense of security. Instead, it mooed angrily and charged forward.

    I should have brought a gun.

    The cow rammed my midsection, forcing the breath from my lungs as it tried to push me under its hooves so it could trample me. I latched my jaws on the side of its face, biting deep into its snout as cow blood poured in.

    It¡¯s a desire for something. Each of the seven layers is. And I don¡¯t mean in the fanciful way Lust dresses itself up.

    Snarling, I bit harder, teeth punching through flesh. The cow lashed out with a hoof, hitting my unsplinted knee. I fell back, teeth tearing skin away with me.

    Each is an expression of desire. More than just staying alive. Always more. A knowledge that you deserve better. Something where you know you should get more than others have, that you deserve it, that you want it.

    I went for the cow¡¯s throat, jaws latching on and shredding skin as I forced them closed. Blood flooded my mouth, warm and sticky. The cow lashed out with its hooves repeatedly, but I kept my jaws latched tight, ripping through muscle and into its windpipe before the cow''s legs buckled.

    Releasing, I pulled myself back just before the cow collapsed onto its side.

    While it¡¯s blood is still pumping out, take a bite, a drink, The Imp said in my head. Before the feeling of life fully leaves it.

    ¡°Screw you,¡± I got out between choked breaths as I tried to get back on my hooves, stumbling. My other leg wasn¡¯t broken, but it ached and just moving my knee sent jolts of paint traveling up and down my leg.

    The cow mooed pitifully next to me, blood gushing from the hole I¡¯d bitten in its throat. Its thrashing slowed as I approached.

    Your desires proved greater than theirs. It had failed to prove its right to life.

    I swallowed a retort to the Imp. Instead I leaned down, opening my jaws.

    The flesh was warm still as my teeth cut through skin, beginning to bite into the fat and muscle and organs. I tried not to think on what I was doing, keeping things entirely mechanical. Bite. Chew. Swallow. Move onto the next part of the cow. I never felt like I was getting full, or even that the flesh was reaching my stomach, until I stood up from the cow¡¯s corpse.

    You did not consume all of it the Imp groused.

    I looked over the leftovers. Intestines. Brain. Bones. Hooves. Most of the skin. Eyes.

    ¡°I agreed to eat cows, I didn¡¯t specify how much.¡±

    Altering the spirit.

    ¡°I¡¯m not eating that.¡±

    You aren¡¯t, I am. And I¡¯m even bothering to make the bits that make it past me taste better for your unrefined palette.

    ¡°Learn to temper your hunger,¡± I muttered, then turned my attention to the nine dead cows while the little devil shrieked inside my head about how insulting that was to a creature like him.

    The next one was easier. Not having the cow moving, struggling, the fading warmth as my teeth sliced through cowhide into the flesh underneath. Large bites take chunks out, leaving ragged remnants behind as the stain of blood spreads further and further. I wanted this over with as quickly as possible.

    It wasn¡¯t. Cows were large. They took time to chew through, forcing large bits of flesh down my gullet to wherever the Imp moved it to devour.

    By the time I reached the final cow, I was exhausted. My jaw burned. My injured leg practically screamed. Even staying on the ground this has tired me out.

    I was also absolutely soaked in blood and viscera. The clothes were ruined, and the blood painted my skin, and ran through my hair, it would have gotten into my eyes.

    Still, almost done. I bit deep into it¡¯s stomach, into by now cold flesh as stagnant blood filled my mouth.

    Then, someone opened the door behind me as I finished the bite.

    ¡°Miss Harrow,¡± Tagashin as Voltar said. ¡°I brought you the two guests you asked for earlier!¡±

    Horror brought a rush of energy as I turned on the ground to see who had entered. Elise and Gregory, both of whom were staring in wide-eyed, open-mouthed shock at the scene before them.

    I sat there, blood pouring down my chin, strips of meat hanging from my teeth as I swallowed.

    That fucking kitsune.

 Chapter 67 - Butchery II

    Bits of flesh were still in my mouth, caught between my teeth in stringy chunks hanging out and dripping blood all over the ground. I essentially was nothing but blood, the only parts not splattered in ichor covered by blood-soaked clothing instead.

    I struggled to think of something, anything to say as an explanation for why I resembled a blood-soaked predator eating out the innards of a cow. I couldn¡¯t say anything.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take them to the guestroom,¡± Tagashin-as-Voltar assured me, nudging the two Montagues towards the door. ¡°Give you a chance to freshen up.¡±

    My eyes narrowed as the Kitsune herded the Montagues back out, away from the sea of cow corpses and me. Here I lay, like a beast, half-buried in cow guts. An animal.

    That Kitsune was going to pay before the day was over.

    I won¡¯t have you finish, The Imp whispered to me. However, if you ever get a chance to bite into that particular breed of furred flesh, it would count for-

    ¡°No,¡± I said, finally finding my voice again. ¡°You won¡¯t make me cross lines that easily. Besides, I have something else in mind.¡±

    ***

    I¡¯d taken time for a bath that had ended with the tub needing to be drained three times, each time carrying water turned crimson from the amount of blood carried away. The shade had paled a bit each time until the fourth time I entered the tub it remained mostly clear.

    Now I just resembled a drowned rat instead of a blood-soaked beast, wet and shivering as I started drying myself off. I¡¯d dunked under the water so many times trying to get all the blood off, but drying off the towels were still being stained red.

    Everything moved so slowly, not helped by how my own body refused to cooperate and hurt at the slightest of movements.

    Tagashin would pay. I already had a few ideas in mind for giving the Kitsune so comeuppance for this. The only restraining factor would be not wanting to ruin Dawes¡¯ life with an escalating war between me and Tagashin. Oh, and not destroying Voltar¡¯s property.

    After finding a fresh change of clothes, I¡¯d gone to the guest room the Montagues had been sent to, settling down on the couch opposite them.

    No one seemed willing to start talking first. How could I even begin to explain what they both had witnessed? I opened my mouth, only for my first words to die as Elise paled.

    I still had blood all over my teeth, didn¡¯t I? A quick probing with my tongue and I could confirm I still had cow flesh there. Oh Hells, why hadn¡¯t I just taken my time cleaning? I was an idiot.

    I reached for a biscuit and quietly began to chew on that instead of trying to talk.

    ¡°You¡¯re still hungry?¡± Gregory asked incredulously.

    I swallowed quickly. How do I explain this? Do I mention the Imp? Do I not mention the Imp and try to figure out any explanation for what they¡¯d just witnessed? Surely, I could think of some kind of answer that would work.

    ¡°Yes,¡± I muttered and grabbed another biscuit.

    They seemed as unable to speak as I was, although that was understandable. They¡¯d just watched me eat ten cows, raw, lapping at spilled blood and gulping down flesh like a wild animal.

    ¡°Well, I suppose fighting and diabolism can make someone work up quite an appetite,¡± Elise said, a nervous edge under that joke.

    There had to be something I could say to help put them at ease, some combination of words to explain what had been witnessed.

    ¡°Yes.¡± Another biscuit. Useless.

    Gregory cleared his throat. ¡°Maybe we should talk about why you brought us over? Before we run out of biscuits?¡±

    There were more in the tin. We wouldn¡¯t run out. ¡°Yes.¡±

    I finished my latest one and tried to focus on the task at hand and not anything else.

    ¡°It¡¯ll have to be social infiltration,¡± I said. ¡°Sneaking in is going to be beyond me for quite a while.¡±

    I inclined my head towards my still splinted leg. Honestly, it probably needed to be put into a cast soon, now that I¡¯d delivered on my promise to the Imp.

    Gregory frowned. ¡°That¡¯s an issue. We are allowed to bring guests into the outermost layers of the archives, well, everyone but me. But you, or even just an Infernal coming in would definitely not be allowed.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a method,¡± I said. ¡°Not one I would prefer using, and it wouldn¡¯t stand up to a lot of scrutiny. How is magic detection inside the archives?¡±

    ¡°In the layer we¡¯d be allowed to bring you inside?¡± Elise asked. ¡°Not enforced as long as it isn¡¯t say the Diabolic arts. Is that an issue?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    The Imp¡¯s presence was well hidden from those. It would have led to a quick and messy end for me if it wasn¡¯t.

    ¡°It¡¯ll be an issue if you try to head further into the archives. Those will detect any form of magic.¡±

    ¡°Let me guess, will any records of what books your father has been looking into be further put into the archives?¡±

    ¡°Unless he¡¯s had it moved since last I knew, yes,¡± Gregory said, and Elise nodded.

    ¡°Okay. I can make what I do temporary, but resuming the disguise on the way out would be more difficult,¡± I said, thinking about it.

    Tagashin would be better suited than I for this, but I doubted any security measures inside would be fooled by Glamour. Using her to set up my alibi would be for the best, unless she could fool them. It''s a gamble either way.

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    ¡°It¡¯ll take longer than I¡¯d like to set it up,¡± I said. ¡°Creating a sculpted disguise as a human? Difficult, not pleasant, but I can do it. Dropping it once we¡¯re inside so I don¡¯t trigger any alarms detecting the Biosculpting? Easy enough. Sneaking around there on a broken leg in a cast? Hard, but not impossible. Reverting back to the disguise so I can leave with you? Impossible.¡±

    ¡°You can biosculpt yourself into a human, then back into yourself, but you can¡¯t change back to the human again?¡±

    I nodded to Elise. ¡°There are a few different kinds of sculptures, but permanent ones take longer to put into place and can¡¯t be reverted. Then you have temporary ones that aren¡¯t meant to last forever. The face I¡¯m wearing right now? One of those, and when I decide it should end, my body will revert back to its baseline. The main issue is while that takes place relatively quickly, sculpting away from the baseline takes time, longer if you aren¡¯t as experienced and well¡­I can do it in about a good day¡¯s worth of effort?¡±

    Gregory frowned. ¡°I don¡¯t see you getting out of there as an entirely different person from how you entered. The guards would notice. And just because magic isn¡¯t permitted doesn¡¯t mean it isn¡¯t checked. They¡¯d noticed additional effects, and concealing magic is banned.¡±

    Elise hesitated, then said ¡°This might be rude, but there are ways of disguise besides magic. Maybe if you cut your horns.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± I snapped, and her mouth immediately shut. ¡°Listen, it will be a while before we can begin this anyway. We can reassess options closer to then and not leap to anything drastic.¡±

    I want to say another word besides drastic, but I forced myself to remain calm.

    ¡°I¡¯m assuming there are security measures deeper inside? You said you broke into these archives in the past, so I¡¯m assuming you have some method of bypassing them?¡±

    The two traded a look and I felt a pang of irritation. Holding things back would do no one any favors if we went through with this.

    ¡°We have a way to get you into the second layer,¡± Gregory said. ¡°But we don¡¯t want to elaborate on it. Elise will send you through blindfolded.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, what?¡±

    ¡°To be perfectly frank,¡± Elise said. ¡°Despite my brother standing up for your character in most circumstances, most of this information doesn¡¯t need to be spread. Most of us don¡¯t have much respect for our father, but we don¡¯t disrespect his responsibilities. So information on how to bypass the archive¡¯s security is not something that will be shared openly.¡±

    I disliked how the part of that my mind narrowed in on was ¡®most circumstances¡¯ and what Gregory had meant about that. It was foolish for me to expect complete trust, and I chided myself for doing so. And seeing me earlier probably hadn¡¯t helped with either of their impressions of me.

    ¡°I probably will need to know some of the security measures,¡± I said. ¡°Going in there completely blind would be a disaster.¡±

    ¡°Agreed,¡± Elise said. ¡°But you don¡¯t need to know everything. A way to bypass the physical security separating the archives is one of those things you don¡¯t need to know.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯ll be easy to cross back over once you¡¯ve acquired what you need,¡± Gregory assured me. ¡°And a lot of the security is on the edge. There are guard patrols, but if you don¡¯t bring attention to yourself, they won¡¯t ask for your pass. It¡¯ll be fairly busy. The first two layers generally are, and the only reason me and Elise couldn¡¯t get that far is Father¡¯s tightening security in relation to us.¡±

    It was not as reassuring as I wanted, but I¡¯d make do. It seemed to rely a lot on no one taking note of me, which seemed one bit of bad luck away from being a disaster.

    ¡°If these two layers are the easiest-to-reach parts, I find it hard to believe your father just keeps a list of what books he¡¯s been reading there.¡±

    ¡°Well, not of what he¡¯s read,¡± Gregory said. ¡°What did he leave the archives with? That¡¯s recorded. So are any requested titles from the restricted stacks. Which should be enough to tell if he is up to something, unless you think differently?¡±

    A private conversation with Lord Montague and no witnesses might be more telling, but that was off the table.

    ¡°It¡¯ll have to be. Tell me the details on where those are located.¡±

    Over the next hour we sketched out a plan. It was rough, and the things they left vague made it shakier than I wanted, but it would have to do.

    ***

    After the two of them had left, I went to the table, trying to find some calm via tea once more.

    I knew it wouldn¡¯t last as I¡¯d brewed that pot, and sure enough, the walking incarnation of disaster herself showed up, having shed her Voltar disguise.

    ¡°Tagashin,¡± I said, inclining my head. ¡°Here to steal my tea again?¡±

    ¡°But of course!¡± The Kitsune replied, grabbing my cup and draining what was left of it. ¡°Gods, that tasted terrible! Your tea is as horrible as you are.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a work in progress.¡±

    ¡°It definitely tastes like one. How did your conversation with the lordling and lady go?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure you eavesdropped,¡± I said. ¡°We have the beginnings of a plan, but it¡¯ll take time to flesh out more. Hopefully only a week or so. We wait too long, and I feel like catching the perpetrators will be beyond our grasp.¡±

    ¡°Oh, maybe,¡± she said, drinking more of the tea despite the taste. ¡°I don¡¯t care too much about it all beyond not having this docked-off time served, to be honest.¡±

    I sighed. Perhaps it was time for a different tact, especially given how much of the tea she¡¯d drank already.

    ¡°Tagashin, I must admit some surprise at how well you¡¯ve functioned in this city. It¡¯s always been my understanding that while the presence of iron isn¡¯t lethal to you as many stories claim, being in proximity to this much of it should...weaken the effects of your magic. Cause you some manner of irritation? Something like that?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d be right,¡± the Kitsune said, hogging the teapot once again as she poured herself a fresh cup. ¡°It¡¯s part of why fey avoid cities like the plague, but some of us have our little countermeasures. Iron¡¯s anathema, but one can mitigate in a whole variety of ways.¡±

    ¡°Mitigate,¡± I noted. ¡°Not prevent? So it still has an effect.¡±

    Tagashin rolled her eyes. ¡°Oh, please, be more transparent about your plans. If you want to kill me, better get ready for those holding both of our leashes to kill you for getting rid of a more useful tool.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll admit to murderous thoughts after each time you¡¯ve provoked me.¡±

    ¡°Well, just keep it to thoughts, girl. I¡¯m a few centuries older than you, a few centuries more craftier than you, and much better at this than you.¡±

    ¡°Well, if I had to guess,¡± I said, ignoring her point. ¡°You yourself are mostly immune to it¡¯s effects as long as it stays outside your body. I¡¯d hypothesize that inside is when it would start affecting you more strongly.¡±

    ¡°Why? If you¡¯re thinking of nailing me with an iron piercing, good luck at managing to get me. You end me lethally, and I¡¯ll just do this,¡± Tagashin said, snapping her fingers.

    Nothing happened, and I enjoyed a refreshing sip of tea as the Kitsune stared in disbelieve first at her fingers then at me.

    ¡°What did you do to me?¡± she asked, voice rising with each word.

    She probably was pulling on her magic without the dramatics of a finger snap and finding nothing occurring each time.

    ¡°To you? Nothing. I did brew my tea with a high concentration of dissolved iron in it. Is that a problem?¡±

    Tagashin snarled, getting up from her seat, only to collapse as her legs came out from underneath her. I enjoyed a sip of the tea as she dragged herself towards me, cursing me out in a language I didn¡¯t understand.

    It did taste like utter garbage, but it did its job.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry too much,¡± I said as I got up, limping just out of reach. ¡°I¡¯ll give you something to purge all those nasty metals from your bloodstream. I¡¯ll admit I didn¡¯t expect it to work this fast. Just establishing some ground rules. You might be craftier, older, better than me at most things.¡±

    I grabbed a bottle from the shelf, looking down at her. ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯ll take everything you hand out sitting down. So, for the sake of some sanity in this household, a truce?¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t kill me,¡± she said, having calmed down some. She looked at me more curiously than hatefully right now.

    ¡°I can¡¯t, but I can make your life very difficult. Much like how you¡¯ve made my life very difficult these last couple of days. So I suppose the question is, do you want that any more than I¡¯ve wanted it?¡±

    ¡°If you¡¯re going to be insane enough to poison me, no,¡± Tagashin replied.

    ¡°Then,¡± I said, lowering the bottle down. ¡°A truce. Till this is solved?¡±

    The Kitsune looked between me and the bottle, then sighed. ¡°Fine. Then all is forgiven?"

    "Definitely not, but it''s a start."

 Chapter 68 - Butchery III

    An hour after I¡¯d come to my accord with Tagashin, three things happened as noon struck.

    First, a message arrived from Lady Karsin asking me to come as soon as possible for the testing of her son.

    Second, a dead cow¡¯s head had somehow made its way into my sheets, which I took as the upper bound of Tagashin¡¯s truce stretching.

    Third, Doctor Dawes entered the house from a hidden trapdoor in the main floor as I carefully put a pair of gloves on.

    ¡°Miss Harrow, you¡¯re heading out? I think some bed rest would be best for you with your injuries.¡±

    ¡°I agree,¡± I told him as he walked up the stairs. ¡°However, Lady Karsin wants me to test her son today, and in my opinion, the quicker I do, the better for all involved.¡±

    ¡°By yourself? And if her son turns out to be a shapechanger?¡±

    ¡°Then I use the element of surprise to disable him with ease,¡± I deadpanned. ¡°Unless he immediately starts attacking me, I don¡¯t give away that I know. I come back, and we figure it out from there.¡±

    ¡°And if he does immediately attack?¡±

    ¡°Well, if I come back, ask me about Tagashin and if I ask who she is, shoot me,¡± I answered.

    Dawes shivered. ¡°A bad joke.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± I admitted. ¡°Do you want to come with?¡±

    ¡°I was hoping to spend the rest of the day off,¡± he said. ¡°But I think I probably should.¡±

    I smiled as I held out my hand. ¡°It would be my pleasure, doctor.¡±

    I shook Dr. Dawes¡¯ hand, and a second later, he fell to the ground, motionless.

    ¡°I¡¯m really sorry about this, doctor,¡± I told him as I grabbed his paralyzed form under the shoulders and started dragging him to the chair. ¡°I just had to make sure you weren¡¯t a changer. It is a little challenging to swallow that they just tied you and Tagashin up in a closet.¡±

    I got him onto the chair while Tagashin came back from downstairs.

    ¡°I would like to point out,¡± she said while I did my best to make Dawes comfortable. ¡°That whatever else I¡¯ve done to you doctor, I¡¯ve always stopped short of physical assault. Are you going to be greeting everyone like this, Hellkin?¡±

    ¡°It should wear off in about ten minutes,¡± I told Dawes. ¡°It¡¯s a very diluted dose. If it doesn¡¯t, Tagashin, there will be a jar in my room that is tall and square. The liquid is orange and has a consistency of honey. Feed him a teaspoon.¡±

    She rolled her eyes. ¡°Our truce doesn¡¯t mean I take orders from you.¡±

    ¡°Yes, but it does mean you¡¯re the one refusing to make sure he recovers,¡± I replied. ¡°I would stay to make sure myself, Doctor, but there are a few others I want to check, and it¡¯s a very fleeting opportunity.¡±

    Perhaps I should feel more guilty about leaving him to the tender mercies of Tagashin. Then again, how long had the tormenting of I at her hands had he let slide?

    ¡°Don¡¯t follow me to Lady Karsin¡¯s, Doctor. Enjoy the rest of your day!¡±

    ***

    They still hadn¡¯t fixed all the damage my escape had caused to Lady Karsin¡¯s estate.

    Someone had dug huge furrows through the gardens, removing the plants I¡¯d manipulated with the Imp¡¯s aid during my escape. They cut massive holes in the well-arranged gardens as I walked towards the tower, my noble hostess at my side.

    Lady Karsin had met me at the gate and deliberately refused my handshake, which I took as a deliberate snub. Had she guessed my real identity? Now, we walked through her estate with six armed guards in tow. Only two had weapons, the rest conspicuous from their lack of weapons. She wasn¡¯t even trying to hide that they were mages, and I didn¡¯t mind. It was just good sense, and they probably wouldn¡¯t have a reason to kill me.

    ¡°I did have some questions for you, if you wouldn¡¯t mind mi¡¯lady?¡± I asked as we walked through her estate.

    ¡°It depends on the questions Miss Harrow. I have some of my own, like how you faked being able to use Divine magic at the party?¡±

    ¡°Faked?¡± I assumed an affronted expression. ¡°I¡¯ll have you know Lady Karsin I am a dedicated student in the ways of Tarter.¡±

    ¡°Tarver,¡± she replied bemusedly. ¡°Are you begging for someone to take notice of you and smite you?¡±

    ¡°Some days. It was an illusion, mostly using various other forms of magic mixed with a few practical tricks. Honestly, it mostly relies on the marks being so shocked at what should be impossible occurring right in front of their eyes they don¡¯t consider that it is impossible and I did it via another method. Although I don¡¯t think it¡¯s impossible for Infernals to channel the divine, it probably just hurts.¡±

    ¡°It seems a risky illusion to try,¡± she observed.

    ¡°It is, hence using what my teachers taught me,¡± I told her. ¡°Keep the con running for only enough time to fool the mark and not a second longer. I left as soon as I¡¯d demonstrated it had worked, then left that floor entirely. Fade away. No disguise or mask can stand up to sufficient scrutiny. They only function in the lack of scrutiny.¡±

    Lady Karsin thought on that for a few more feet before speaking up again.

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    ¡°Why even prepare it in the first place? Did you know I¡¯d ask if you could?¡±

    Was she trying to stall my questions? She hadn¡¯t even heard them yet.

    ¡°Someone would ask,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯d been made notable enough by my race, who invited me, and other factors that I was reasonably sure someone would ask for something to prove it. For you specifically? You¡¯ve had difficulties recently with biosculpted Infernals. An Infernal walking on the arm of one of the people involved in that? I expected you to be suspicious. And all eyes were on you, so it seemed the perfect time to put that suspicion to rest as much as possible.¡±

    ¡°Drawing a lot of eyes on yourself. A lot of attention on your con.¡±

    ¡°And I left and went somewhere else, and things happened to draw the attention away.¡±

    ¡°Away from that, but I don¡¯t think away from you,¡± she teased.

    Were my cheeks flushed? No, it''s best not to think about that.

    ¡°Perhaps not,¡± I admitted. ¡°Still, it worked. I wanted to ask you what occurred on the third floor? You went there with Lord Montague after the Infernal attack, one of the few allowed up there while Shapechangers were on the loose. Only one of them made it out.¡±

    ¡°Ah,¡± she said, tone guarded. ¡°You want to know what occurred?¡±

    ¡°Within reason,¡± I replied. ¡°I imagine Lord Montague allowed you in places he wouldn¡¯t allow me. Still, any hints would be appreciated if you could provide them?¡±

    We were in the tower now, ascending up it. The stairs ran along the outer circumference, climbing higher and higher with a doorway on each floor to enter.

    ¡°There are things I definitely shouldn¡¯t state,¡± Lady Karsin replied, keeping a step ahead of me. ¡°Many things. Perhaps after you¡¯ve done the test on my son?¡±

    Well, that would depend on her reaction to it, but I stayed quiet till we reached about two-thirds the way up the tower.

    Desmond Karsin smiled hesitantly from where he sat at a table, drinking tea. Alas, I wouldn¡¯t be having any of that unless things went well.

    ¡°Hello,¡± he said, shakily getting up from the chair and offering me his hand. ¡°Mother said you¡¯d come to examine me? Make sure my recovery is going well?¡±

    Too easy. ¡°In a manner of speaking.¡±

    I shook hands with the young teen, and he suddenly stiffened. He tried to say something, his throat refusing to cooperate with him as he fell to the ground.

    Huh. That wasn¡¯t what I had expected.

    I watched, the picture of calm even as guns were pulled out and leveled, hammers pulled back. Lady Karsin immediately went to her son¡¯s side with a cry.

    She cradled his head while I waited, asking him to please give her a sign he was alive before finally thinking to check his pulse.

    I waited, having not moved even the slightest bit. Doing that would probably result in half a dozen bullets being pumped into me. Probably not survivable even if I hadn¡¯t been beaten to shit and back a few nights ago.

    Lady Karsin straightened up, the expression on her face carefully controlled. Not controlled enough I couldn¡¯t tell she was furious. I¡¯d need to handle this carefully.

    ¡°It won¡¯t last long,¡± I began, and then she was a blur.

    She suddenly was in front of me, expression furious, holding the point of a knife under my chin.

    The dagger¡¯s point tickled my throat as I breathed in slowly.

    ¡°My son is alive,¡± Lady Karsin said, the tip of the dagger poking my skin. ¡°That¡¯s the only reason you aren¡¯t dead, Harrow. What did you do to him?¡±

    ¡°I gave him a contact paralytic,¡± I said. ¡°On my glove¡¯s surface. My apologies for not mentioning it beforehand, but any hint to your son if he was a changer could have let them fake the effects. I¡¯ve tried it on a changer before and it had no effect on them. And while it is entirely possible a changer impersonating him may have found out and be faking the effects, I have a test for that as well. Involuntary nerve reflex.¡±

    ¡°And what does that entail?¡± Lady Karsin said, not easing up on the dagger.

    Not a friendly face here as some of the guards moved so they had clearer shots at me without putting their mistress at risk.

    ¡°Nothing dangerous,¡± I said. ¡°I lightly tap a few spots with a hammer where nerves are located. If they¡¯re truly inhibited, he won¡¯t move. If it¡¯s a changer faking it, it hopefully moves.¡±

    ¡°Hopefully?¡± The knife moved back a little. Enough I could breath a bit easier.

    ¡°It¡¯s entirely possible that they can remove or suppress nerve signals,¡± I said. ¡°I can¡¯t know for certain because there¡¯s only one in captivity, and the Watch aren¡¯t very likely to let outsiders experiment. The most I can get is an interview.¡±

    The knife slowly withdrew. She turned away, going back to her son and kneeling down, brushing his hair.

    ¡°It¡¯s confusing,¡± I said. ¡°They did your son first, yet he hasn¡¯t been replaced.¡±

    Lady Karsin paused while brushing his hair.

    ¡°Perhaps they didn¡¯t get the opportunity with him like they did with Lord Montague¡¯s son last night,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯d like to think I can keep a more well-guarded house than him.¡±

    ¡°Maybe,¡± I said. ¡°I figured they¡¯d want at least one successful test run to make sure their methodology was sound. It seems strange they¡¯d only test a few steps on your son. Just seeing if they could poison him and that it would work. Not testing their ability to replace successfully seems strange.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re leaving. Now.¡±

    I didn¡¯t protest, merely following her as she spun on her heels, heading down the stairs.

    ¡°Apologies for the deception,¡± I said as I made it down to the base of the tower. ¡°Hopefully, things will be friendlier when we meet next?¡±

    I offered my gloved hand, the one I hadn¡¯t shaken her son¡¯s hand with. Her lips pursed as she stared down at it.

    ¡°Please leave,¡± she told me. ¡°I am not in the mood for games and tricks.¡±

    I shrugged, then limped towards the gate. Guards kept a careful watch on me till I¡¯d left the estate. I stripped the gloves off, carefully turning them inside out before putting them in a pocket of my dress. It wouldn¡¯t do to paralyze myself.

    A mixed result today. I¡¯d tested Desmond Karsin to satisfaction, but the one person I¡¯d wanted to test had evaded me at every turn. Had Lady Karsin known this entire time, and let me test her son because she knew he wasn¡¯t one of them?

    My theory still had too many holes that needed to be filled, especially in regards to her son. But looking at how this web had been weaved, it struck me that there was one person serving as the link between the involved parties. It might all be pointless conjecture leading to a pawn instead of the schemer who¡¯d woven this web together, but something didn¡¯t add up about the elven noblewoman.

    I¡¯d need to talk with the Montagues, and ask them about Desmond Karsin¡¯s pre-Angel¡¯s Sorrow personality because I had never met him awake before the poisoning. He¡¯d definitely had the symptoms when Lady Karsin had first started contacting me, but something didn¡¯t add up about all of this. Of course, I doubted I¡¯d be spending much time around Desmond Karsin in the future. Lady Karsin would be unlikely to have me over again.

    Of course, something else was strange regarding Lady Karsin. Her being a shapechanger was currently high on the list of possibilities, less so since she¡¯d oh so carefully avoided shaking my hand. There were still a lot of questions if she turned out to be one, but some got answered. She was the connective tissue to a lot of this, from my initial involvement in this to the Montague¡¯s having someone suffering from Angel¡¯s Sorrow poisoning to turn to.

    Tssk, I should have figured out a way to bring the paralytic in contact with her before testing her son. I¡¯d debated a few methods, decided against it on the chance she was affected and I suddenly found myself surrounded by guards whose noble employer I¡¯d seemingly killed.

    Still, this was another open question that would need to be answered on top of the others.

    Her movements had been practiced and trained. Gregory had mentioned her being around during the time of Her Most Profane Majesty and taking part in the final battle. Not a large part, or I¡¯m sure the stories would have mentioned it by now, but I was suddenly curious if the Lady Karsin who¡¯d vanished during those times was known for her martial abilities.

    It was much like I¡¯d told her earlier. The way to preserve a mask against scrutiny was to avoid scrutiny altogether. Otherwise it wouldn¡¯t stand. When I broke into the archives this week, perhaps it would be time to take a chisel to that mask.

 Chapter 69 - Butchery IV

    I whistled as I opened the door to the warehouse where I¡¯d hidden my old gear.

    A day had passed since my tenuous truce had been established with Tagashin, and so far it was holding. Oh, snide remarks, but nothing like making me hit my injured leg. Nothing like bringing people to see me feasting on cows like an animal.

    I dreaded the next time I met Gregory. Confess I had an imp inside my head and that was payment for its help? That opened up an entirely different issue with him, since I was pretty sure he did not know. Worse, had he told others in his family? Had his sister?

    Was I going to wake up someday with the newspapers on articles about the strange, diabolism-practicing Infernal Voltar kept in his house being seen gnawing her way through the stomach of a dead cow?

    Suddenly, poisoning Tagashin seemed far, far less than what she deserved.

    I went inside, closing the door behind me. The walk through the Quarter had been sedate. Far too sedate. A splinted Infernal should have at least gotten one pickpocket trying to take advantage of them, more than likely three, and a mugger as well.

    I had my hand tightly wrapped in cloth, looking like a bandage. I already had one over my other hand, over the still-healing wound where a knife had been stabbed through my palm. This one thought was for a much more mundane purpose.

    I already stood out enough as is. A Black Flame insignia wasn¡¯t the kind of mark I wanted to be displayed at the moment, especially not with recent events.

    Some people would know anyway. I¡¯d let the face of Danielle Water revert back to my own last night. There weren¡¯t many Infernals with my ancestry. Still, someone should have tried to mug me by now.

    A whole day had passed since the events at Lord Montague¡¯s party. I would have heard about a riot, but if an intimidation attempt had been made, well. The Quarter was less populated than it used to be.

    It didn¡¯t take long to secure my remaining equipment, but carrying it was somewhat awkward. I should have brought someone else along so I didn¡¯t reopen a wound. Tomorrow. Tomorrow I¡¯d rest.

    Someone was waiting for me as I left the warehouse.

    ¡°Varrow,¡± I said, moving the box to my other arm as I eyed the other Infernal. ¡°You knew about this address?¡±

    ¡°Not until recently,¡± he replied, eyes lingering on my broken leg. ¡°How¡¯d you get that broken?¡±

    ¡°Haven¡¯t you read the news?¡± I began to move past him, pausing just to lock the door behind me.

    ¡°Yeah. Didn¡¯t mention you getting injured.¡±

    ¡°Fighting shapechangers isn¡¯t very easy, it turns out,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ve got more I would show off if we weren¡¯t in public.¡±

    Public in this case meant a few scattered Infernals in the alleyways. People were making themselves scarce today. I couldn¡¯t blame them.

    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m sure. Almost tore your arms off like those Watch officers back when you were twelve?¡±

    That stirred some old memories. ¡°In our defense, you used to set very unreasonable quotas for how much should be brought in each night. Varrow, how did you find out about the address?¡±

    ¡°Tried to backtrack you after you visited my house; the earliest I could find someone spotting you was in this area. You¡¯re pretty memorable.¡±

    I should have not changed my face back so soon, but I¡¯d hardly had control at that time. In this case, I¡¯d just felt like I wanted my old face book. Silly, after not wearing it for so long, to want it back on so often now.

    I started walking back down the alley I¡¯d entered from, Varrow matching me step for step.

    ¡°Marchers are down this way,¡± Varrow warned me. ¡°And they¡¯re more riled up after what happened. About that, since you were there?¡±

    I sighed. ¡°If we¡¯re going to have this conversation, could you carry this for me?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d offload your baggage on a poor older man? Shame, and learn to respect you elders girl.¡±

    I stared at him, then looked down at my splinted, probably still in need of a cast leg.

    ¡°Only until we reach the quarter then. Pass it here.¡±

    I handed it off, then clopped further down the alleyway. ¡°There was an assault by Infernals on the party, probably meant as a distraction. Not Black Flame, but street dregs probably paid a pittance to pretend to be the actual Flame.¡±

    ¡°Shite. So it wasn¡¯t made up?¡±

    ¡°Nope, and that was pretty much my reaction. Didn¡¯t realize things were so desperate people could fall for a fool thing like that.¡±

    Varrow laughed. ¡°Just because the quarter¡¯s better doesn¡¯t mean it''s better for everyone Malvia. Always people who are desperate, who¡¯ll risk everything for a chance. Or hells, maybe they were just tricked. Told they¡¯d be doing a different job, burst in, find out they were sold a fake bill of goods.¡±

    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    ¡°True,¡± I said. ¡°They¡¯ve cost us all with that stunt though.¡±

    ¡°So? You saying you haven¡¯t done the same? But that¡¯s not what I want to talk about. That bruiser you hang out with? Tolman? He¡¯s started asking me about you. I got a pretty good idea who he actually is as well. How many Black Flame are going to start showing up at my home, disguised or not? Because two is already pushing my patience Malvia!¡±

    ¡°Not too many,¡± I answered. ¡°He¡¯s fishing. I have a decent idea why. He¡¯ll stop once he starts reading the newspapers and realizes where I am.¡±

    ¡°Do you think he remember he can? Did he ask you to shrink his wits when you gave him that body?¡±

    I rolled my eyes. Tolman acted the fool, and I¡¯d certainly been irritated with his lack of care over the last few weeks. I was beginning to wonder exactly how much of that was real though. Some things were beginning to occur as time went on. Things that should have far earlier.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about Tolman. He¡¯ll ease off.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t like being on the Black Flame¡¯s radar Malvia.¡±

    ¡°Neither do I, but I have to live with it. My suggestion? Lay low. No offense intended, but if you don¡¯t make any more noise I think everyone will forget about you. But don¡¯t worry about Tolman. I doubt he¡¯d hurt you.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s not the only person whose been looking for you,¡± Varrow said as we continued down the alleyway. ¡°Kalasyp resurfaced.¡±

    It took me a second to remember. It had only been a couple of weeks but that now felt so long ago.

    ¡°I imagine he had quite a shock when he resurfaced,¡± I said. ¡°I did get most of his contracts done at least. You crossed paths?¡±

    ¡°Oh no, he came to see me.¡±

    I halted as the statement caught me off-guard.

    ¡°Really? He came to see you. How...strange Kalasyp.¡±

    ¡°Oh, it gets even weirder. Same old, upper crust attitude, wrong words. Tick, drug addict, even accused me off being a snitch. Never used those words before. I told him I was still smarting from him slamming my fingers with your door when we were waiting that morning, he didn¡¯t protest. Didn¡¯t raise a fuss when I served him some shite tea I¡¯d brewed. And then said it was a thank you for him letting me go first that morning. Again no correction.¡±

    My mind went to an immediate answer for that off behavior and seemingly missing memories. One could be too paranoid when dealing with Shapechangers of course, but the only counterpoint I could think of is why Kalasyp? He had no involvement in this.

    Or did he? He¡¯d been hired for a special job he¡¯d hinted, one likely to keep him occupied and nowhere near the surface. He¡¯d said only a few days, but had that been the truth of what Kalasyp had been fed to believe? They must have had an alchemist before then though, so why they needed another escaped me.

    ¡°What did Mr. Kalasyp have to ask you?¡±

    ¡°First he wanted to know where you were. Wasn¡¯t too happy when I said I didn¡¯t know. I didn¡¯t get the sense he didn¡¯t believe me, and he didn¡¯t press.¡±

    ¡°Probing,¡± I muttered. ¡°I can¡¯t believe they knew of any deeper connection, they probably just sent one out to check any possible loose ends. I¡¯d be careful, just in case. And tell me if he approaches you again.¡±

    ¡°Thanks Harrow. You also want to tell me to not go up to Watch Officers bragging about how many people I¡¯ve pickpocketed?¡±

    ¡°Well, they¡¯ve stopped torturing people,¡± I replied. ¡°So maybe a stay in a cell might do you some good. Give you some time to think. Exercise all that dusty machinery in your head. Did he say anything else?¡±

    ¡°Not much. Wanted to know if I¡¯d seen you. Asked if I¡¯d known you were Black Flame. Wanted to pay me to keep an eye on you. I didn¡¯t take the coin since it probably had trackers on it. Pity.¡±

    ¡°And how confident are you that you weren¡¯t followed?¡± I asked, looking up into the sky.

    ¡°Decently sure. What are you doing? Trying to get in a staring contest with the sun?¡±

    ¡°Seeing if any birds might be following us.

    Varrow missed a step, then glanced up at the sky. Several birds were up there, some too distant and obscured by the morning smog to make out their species. Even just in the thin slit of sky seen between the walls of the buildings on either side of us, there were easily thirty flitting about up there.

    ¡°You¡¯re bullshitting me.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not. I wouldn¡¯t have done this before, because I thought they couldn¡¯t change their mass.¡±

    ¡°Their what?¡±

    ¡°Weight. Size. You¡¯ve got druids who can change into specific animals but typically they have spirits or gods they offload the issues of changing overall mass onto. They also only have one form, so it¡¯s typically in concrete amounts or percentages. Shifters though, they¡¯ve constantly been changing their mass and size. Usually upwards, but one of them got out through a tiny crack between my floor and the bottom of my door. If I had to pick a way to track someone, and I could change into anything, that would be a good pick.¡±

    Varrow changed the focus of his gaze from the skies above to the ground around us. ¡°What about vermin? No one pays too much attention to rats, insects, and the others like them.¡±

    ¡°Possibly. Bit more dangerous though. Natural predators, and a chance of being trod upon. Whereas a bird of prey? Less chance of the former, no chance of the latter.¡±

    Varrow looked back up the sky. ¡°If this doesn¡¯t get figured out I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll ever get a good night¡¯s sleep again.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t think anyone in the city will. Silver lining to the newspapers focusing so much on the Infernal assault. Rest of the city gets a more comfortable night''s sleep at our expense.¡±

    I did wonder about some of the articles, which had been questioning on the exact nature of Hawkins. A lot of leading questions about if he could have been a diabolically created monstrosity. Even Lord Montague¡¯s mention of them as Shapechangers hadn¡¯t stopped that line of thinking from taking hold in a few papers. A few experts on Biosculpting had been dug up who¡¯d had some thoughts on the possibility of combined Diabolism and Biosculpting that were favorable to the idea.

    That¡¯s all some would need to dismiss the idea of the two not being related. Just another reason to hate the Infernals more, if they were using Hell-magic to infiltrate the ranks of proper citizens of the Empire.

    I chuckled. I¡¯d be using magic of the non-hell variety to do exactly that very soon.

    ¡°Something funny about that?¡±

    ¡°My mind got ahead of me. Not far enough away, though, I can still hear. Not your voice, that.¡±

    That was the by now familiar earnings and ravings of the March leader. By now I had a name to put to the face, Micheal Simmons, a high-ranking priest of Halspus, said to be quite trusted by the church leadership. Currently ranting and raving about the corruption of morals and the fiends among everyday citizens waiting to take control of the city.

    ¡°It was like this yesterday?¡± I asked Varrow.

    ¡°It was worse yesterday,¡± Varrow replied. ¡°There was a competition then, some politician on the other side of the quarter. Baron Thomien and everybody got to listen to those two try to out-yell each other. Their supporters trying to beat people up on the outskirts, getting bloodied in return. We haven¡¯t had a riot. Yet.¡±

    We were now near the marchers, a familiar sight. This was an intersection, not far down from the Hell¡¯s Own, which meant actual cobblestones for a roadway. This also meant traffic, as a couple of wagons loitered waiting for this to clear up.

    They¡¯d be waiting a while as a new wagon came into sight on the other side of the road, continuing past the others despite yells from irritated drivers.

    The wagon stopped moving near the lines, the pair of Infernals guiding it getting off. I froze as both started running, startling Marcher, Watch Officer, and Infernal alike. I knew these tactics. So did Varrow, and he was already a hoof ahead of me as the wagons exploded, the entire load of gunpowder hidden inside it detonating.

 Chapter 70 - Butchery V

    Ears ringing, I lay on the ground, the dirt road rough underneath me as I groaned.

    I could remember the explosion, just as I¡¯d begun to turn. I¡¯d been far away but the forced must have shoved me to the ground. I turned over, getting me hands underneath me. Dust swirled around me, and the compacted surface of the crappy road broke up the explosive force that rocked it. The intersection the wagon had been at was still covered, filled only by dust. No screaming. No sounds at all actually, even as I dragged myself an agonizing foot.

    I tried to get up. Pain immediately sent me back to the ground. The force had broken my splint, the metal rod snapped in half on one side of it¡¯s u-shaped design. My broken leg sent pure agony up my leg. I gave up on trying to move it, instead crawling towards where the side of the road must be.

    It was slow going, not helped by what was scattered across the road. Nails, a mixture of rusted and pristine scattered about. Whoever had set off the bomb had included their own, nasty shrapnel into the mix, and I thanked whatever devils or other things might be watching me that none of them had struck me.

    Someone touched my shoulder and my hand went for my revolver, drawing it as I rolled onto my back.

    Above me Varrow hurriedly backed off, saying something I couldn¡¯t hear.

    ¡°I can¡¯t hear you,¡± I said, pointing at my ears with my free hand as I put my revolver back into my coat.

    He frowned, then pointed at his own, scowl deepening.

    Hopefully that would come back. It wouldn¡¯t be as good as it was before, not until I examined the middle ear bones and see if I could repair the damage undoubtedly done. I had a potion, but using that would be...it probably was the best choice. Leg first, though.

    I tapped the thigh of my broken leg and immediately regretted it as the pain flared up again. Varrow looked down at it, nodded, and then immediately moved behind me, grabbing me under my shoulders.

    Not what I¡¯d meant, but probably best to find someplace away from the explosion to-fucking hells!

    Varrow wasn¡¯t gentle, and I cursed futilely at him as my broken leg scraped across the dirt surface of the road. After what felt like an eternity of agony we reached the wall of a house before he finally let me go. I gulped air while he headed off into the settling dust before returning with the remnants of my splint.

    The u-shaped piece of metal that formed the frame had been snapped, which essentially made it pointless to try and repair. Best we could do is scavenge some wood for a temporary one. I shook my head at a waiting Varrow, then rapped my knuckles on the wood wall next to me, prying a little at a plank with my fingers. He nodded, then started to work on it.

    Property damage, but as my entire body ached, I couldn¡¯t really force myself to care about that.

    While Varrow worked on getting a plank free of the building, I had nothing but time to think while my body ached over the latest series of injuries done to it. The hells had that been?

    I was not nearly full of myself to think that had been directed at me, even if I had been tracked. Set off too far from me, far too indiscriminate of a weapon. An entire wagon of gunpowder might not be  the worst weapon to use on a Diabolist, but it is hardly the best targeted. No, this was a random attack aimed at the marchers, but clearly without care if anyone in the Quarter was killed as well.

    There was another explanation for who in the Quarter had the resources to pull off something like that, but why Versalicci would want this¡­..maybe. If he wanted the pressure in the Quarter ratcheted up, back to when his organization had it¡¯s heyday. Drive the entire quarter to desperation so his numbers of recruits could soar like they had back when I¡¯d been part of it. All he needed to do is make it look like what was already expected of us Infernals had occurred.

    That explanation made increasingly more sense the more I thought on it. That was a motivation, unlike the Shapechangers, who I couldn¡¯t think of a reason for doing this. There was also the possibility of a third party, but I dismissed that idea. Without additional information, speculation would just lead to nowhere useful.

    Varrow had finished ripping the board off the house, and I began working on cutting strips out of my coat. Another one ruined. I should just start bringing random strips of cloth around at all times. Tightening it made the pain worse but I could actually get back on my hoof. With that done, I pulled a small bottle from my coat.

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    I drank half before passing it to Varrow, an itching building in my ears before, with a sudden pop, ambient sounds returned.

    ¡°You couldn¡¯t have done that at the start?¡± Varrow asked, his voice a bit tinny in my ears as they itched.

    ¡°Do I look like I¡¯m made of money?¡± I replied. ¡°Believe it or not, Dawes keeps a very tight leash on what I¡¯m allowed to requisition, and I wanted to make sure I could get back on this leg before splitting it.¡±

    I stepped away from the support of the wall. My head swam, and more than my leg ached. I didn¡¯t have nails in me, right? I didn¡¯t think so, but I¡¯d taken a litany of smaller injuries each crying out for me to rest.

    Between this and the party, I might insist on having an entire week where I did nothing but lay down, read, and eat tea. The thought of that was entrancing enough it almost drew me away from reality.

    Unluckily, the pain was there to bring me back. Each step brought fresh agony as I walked towards where the wagon had been.

    Still I headed for the wagon, towards what had once been one of the Quarter¡¯s major roads. Which meant it actually had cobbles, although those had been blown all about by the blast. How many barrels of gunpowder has been spent on this? Guessing from the number of buildings with their fronts collapsed in on themselves, more than enough.

    ¡°Harrow, what are you doing? We need to leave before more people arrive.¡±

    A good point. But curiosity won out, mainly because where was everyone? The overall silence had remained even after my hearing had been fixed.

    ¡°I want to take a look,¡± I said. ¡°Make sure of a few things.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re going to be knee-deep in those marchers in a second,¡± he hissed at me. ¡°And if not them, Watch looking for someone to blame.¡±

    ¡°True. Just a quick look. Then shelter at your place, maybe?¡±

    ¡°Too risky. Your new place.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do,¡± I said as I finally made it to the area of the explosion.

    Bodies were scattered about. Broken in many ways, burnt, nails protruding out of skin. Mostly marchers and watch, I noted clinically as the dust settled. Infernals had been on the outer edges, so there were less bodies. More streaks of blood, probably from people who¡¯d ran, crawled, or limped away from the carnage. No one here seemed to be among the living, so I ignored the scattered limbs and broken corpses as I headed for the source of the blast.

    Less bodies here, most of them flung away by the force of the explosion. Those that were left were the worst off, taking the full force of the explosion. And the full force of the metal shards and scraps packed in as shrapnel. I found one of the drivers of the neighboring carts dead. The only mercy is it might have been quick given the wood puncturing the side of his head, brains leading out around the hole.

    Where the wagon had been there was not a scrap of wood left, but there was something blown into the dirt, a pattern marring the cobbles of the Quarter¡¯s main thoroughfare. A Flaming Goat¡¯s head.

    Probably not Versalicci then. He would want the Quarter under pressure, but anything that would direct attention on him wouldn¡¯t be good for him. Making himself more of a nuisance was a recipe for the army being brought back into the capital to root him out. He wasn¡¯t suicidal. This was part of the Changer plot, but why?

    The involvement of Infernals as their scapegoats, I¡¯d assumed it had just been because we¡¯d make easy ones for them, but was there another reason? Because this targeting felt deliberate and beyond the scope of their earlier actions.

    I checked the residue forming the symbol. Ash mixed with grease was my best guess after touching and feeling it. There was no magic of any kind in the symbol itself, and the lack of any magic was another sign pointing away from the Black Flame. You didn¡¯t stick around to do dumb stunts like this with Versalicci, assuming he¡¯d even want a signature on a job like this.

    This was strange. It was almost as if framing the Black Flame was as much one of their goals as whatever they wanted out of Lord Montague, but what? I hadn¡¯t been with the Flame in five years and I¡¯d never known everything Versalicci did, but there was absolutely nothing I could think of that would involve shapechangers with the Flame.

    I was checking for corpses for the two Infernals I¡¯d spotted getting off the wagon before it exploded. Although, even accounting for potential shape-changers, it wasn¡¯t that easy I thought as I leaned by one corpse. The right skin color, but the explosion had make identification a bit of trouble I thought as I pulled the head up by the few scraps of hair still on her head. A few shreds of skin remained on, the rest shredded off by the nails. Guessing from her lying face-down in a pool of her own blood with a severed spine? Not a quick death.

    Varrow was checking some of the bodies now and I hoped no one else stumbled upon us. Old habits died hard, but the last thing I needed was getting into a scuffle with the watch over his sticky fingers.

    ¡°Could you not for a few minutes? Watch will be here eventually.¡±

    ¡°They aren¡¯t here yet,¡± Varrow said, a scowl coming across his face. ¡°Actually that¡¯s a bit off.¡±

    He wasn¡¯t wron-

    The earth rocked with a thunderous roar, and I barely kept my footing. My head swiveled about till it spotted another plume of dust going skyward, bits of wreckage flung out from the exploision.

    No. Hells damn them, no!

    Varrow was pale as he began to move towards one of the streets. The ground shook again.

    They¡¯d burn the entire district down tonight if they could. Assuming enough of them survived. I moved after Varrow as fast as I could, leg throbbing with every step. First things first, get out of here. Take Varrow with me, and if either Dawes or Tagashin protested I¡¯d see if I could fix them up with some fake horns and red skin then toss them in here for a night.

    The swirling dust had settled entirely now, revealing further down the road on both ends. Empty. Strange. Where was everyone? Run perhaps? With the time taken to get the splint in place, there should have been more than enough time for them to do so. But the idea that the Watch would desert their posts at a time like this was...troubling.

    The earth shook again. I hurried after Varrow, limping as quickly as possible before he got too far ahead. Hopefully, we can make it out of the Quarter.

 Chapter 71 - Butchery VI

    It didn¡¯t take long for the screaming to start.

    Whatever lull had occurred in the immediate aftermath of the first explosion had ended before I even made it a hundred feet. A few isolated voices shrieking sorrow turned into a deluge that joined the ringing in my ears. For the next dozen feet, I limped. The dominant tone of that was sorrow, but it turned swiftly to anger and only grew in volume.

    If the other bombings had been as blatant as the one I¡¯d witnessed, hundreds if not thousands of people who¡¯d marched in here as a show of force against Infernals had just seen Infernals drive exploding wagons into their midst.

    Varrow had slowed enough I could catch up with him, a kindness I didn¡¯t really expect. Expecting more payment in the future? Or maybe just because I was the only person who was treating his lungs?

    ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯m making it out of the Quarter on time,¡± I said in between gulps of air as I moved forward as fast as I could, each impact of my hoof on the dirt a lance of pain up my leg. ¡°How well do you think your house could stand up a mob?¡±

    ¡°Not well,¡± Varrow said, looking behind us. ¡°If we had more people with us, maybe, but just the two of us? Maybe if you¡¯d be willing to keep the worst of it at bay with the devil magic.¡±

    We hadn¡¯t even made it to the next intersection yet. Not good. I couldn¡¯t really go any faster, I was already risking my leg hitting the ground wrong and collapsing to the ground as is.

    ¡°I think even with my new acquaintances, spraying diabolism all over citizens of the empire is likely to end with my head in a noose or being separated from my body with an axe. Also the last thing this Quarter needs is another fire. Why do we insist on making everything out of wood?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s cheap.¡±

    Fair enough.

    ¡°Hells¡¯ Own?¡± I suggested. ¡°We¡¯d have to cut back across the street, but it¡¯s stone, it¡¯ll have staff there, plus whoever else was already there drinking to block out those voices from the sky.¡±

    ¡°Not a bad suggestion,¡± Varrow said. ¡°One problem. Doesn¡¯t Edwards want you dead? And he¡¯s friendlier with me in the sense he¡¯ll just throw me out.¡±

    Oh. Yes, wearing this face around Edwards was not a good idea.

    ¡°He lets Black Flame inside his bar,¡± I protested weakly.

    ¡°Because he¡¯s not going to fight Versalicci,¡± Varrow said. ¡°No leadership, and no one he might hold a grudge against. Which includes you for what I heard was a very good reason.¡±

    I sighed. Okay, he wasn¡¯t wrong, but it had been Skall that had started it, and I¡¯d only gotten involved when they¡¯d started trying to kill her, and in my defense we hadn¡¯t succeeded in burning down the bar for what would have been its fifth time.

    ¡°Let¡¯s see about getting there first. Because I¡¯d rather take Edwards over any of those marchers.¡±

    ***

    A trick you picked up if survived any of the Quarter¡¯s big riots: if you heard noise from someplace, never head there. Noise typically meant fighting, or at least people, and just because the noise stopped didn¡¯t mean those people went away.

    It wasn¡¯t much protection. Riots got chaotic and chaos meant it would spring up from a different street. But so far the screaming seemed to not spread out of it¡¯s initial locations as we made it to the Hell¡¯s Own.

    We¡¯d encountered remarkably few people on our way here. Far too few in fact. The lack of Infernals was understandable, they¡¯d be hiding inside whatever shelter they could find if they knew what was good. Where were the marchers though? We¡¯d crossed the street a while back, not a sign of any anti-Infernal protesters. Had the bombs scared them out of the Quarter entirely, or had they scattered themselves too thin throughout?

    I should learn to keep my thoughts quiet.

    "There they are!"

    I didn''t want to guess who the ''they'' was, instead ignoring the pain in my leg as I hurried. Hell''s Own was across the road, I could see it in the distance, figures on the rooftop yelling at us to hurry.

    Varrow shot past me, having the benefit of having a functioning leg. I hobbled behind, hearing yelled slurs and the sound of boot leather slapping stone.

    Something hit my back, hard and between the shoulders. I toppled down, pulling on Diabolism. Damnations, this would not look good, but better alive and a wanted murderer than dead.

    I turned on my back, a stampede of citizenry before me. No, talking would not work. Instead all would need to burn.

    A rifle shot rang out, flakes of stone flying up between me and the crowd where the bullet struck.

    "Want to keep your life, go somewhere else," an Infernal on top of the tavern called out. Three others were waiting with rifles.

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    The crowd scattered like rats back across the street, away from the rifle barrels. No one wanted to risk being the one to die it seemed.

    A cinder-block lay next to me and I kicked it with my non-broken hoof.

    "Better come inside," one of the rooftop sentries yelled down to me. "Don''t know how long bullets will keep that lot gone. Better make it into sanctuary fast."

    A fair point, as I picked myself up and headed inside.

    Inside, the greeting was colder.

    ¡°Harrow,¡± Edwards hissed, leveling the shotgun at my face. ¡°And Varrow as well. What gods be damned pit did you crawl out of? You bring your psychotic girlfriend with you?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not with he-¡± Varrow started.

    ¡°Shut up!¡±

    ¡°Edwards,¡± I replied even as others cautiously leveled guns at me, most of them seeming a little shocked at the bartender¡¯s vehement dislike for me. Apparently being out of circulation for five years had degraded my reputation some. The Black Flame members were all aiming without hesitancy though. Something to keep in mind. ¡°I¡¯ve been active for near two weeks now, so don¡¯t act so shocked I¡¯m back. If you have an issue with me being back in the city, take it up with Mr. Voltar. He¡¯s the one who arranged my return after all.¡±

    That name got more of a reaction from the assorted patrons as whispers picked up and guns wavered more.

    ¡°Voltar,¡± Edwards noted with distaste in his mouth. ¡°You¡¯re mixed up with that mess involving Katheryn Falara and those poisoned nobles.¡±

    ¡°Yes, brought in for that,¡± I replied. ¡°Since you were wondering where my ¡®psychotic girlfriend¡¯ is, well first we stopped being that a long time ago, and second she¡¯s been one of your patrons for many years at this point.¡±

    ¡°I know,¡± he snapped. ¡°She¡¯s apparently improved her attitude over the years, somehow. Probably mellowed out after being separated from you. What are you doing here?¡±

    I didn¡¯t know which to be more offended by: Skall getting credit for something involving me or Edwards thinking I¡¯d been the one spurring Skall.

    ¡°Willing to offer my services, in return for shelter,¡± I said. ¡°If you don¡¯t want them, I¡¯m happy to find another place to hole up tonight.¡±

    ¡°None of that gas you used on the One-horns,¡± Edwards warned me.

    I bit down on a protest that I hadn¡¯t used the gas; I¡¯d just made it for Gio, and he¡¯d been the one to order its use. It wasn¡¯t even that deadly compared to some of the mixtures Her Majesty¡¯s Army used on the battlefield. Sure, I wouldn¡¯t wish to literally puke your guts out on most, but to pretend the One-Horns had been innocent wasn¡¯t remotely true.

    ¡°Don¡¯t listen to her, Edwards,¡± one of the Black Flame said, keeping a gun trained on me. ¡°She¡¯s not part of the gang any longer. You don¡¯t owe her anything from that.¡±

    I tried to keep a growing grin under control. Not the right move.

    ¡°Are you saying if she were, I¡¯d owe her for that?¡± Edwards snapped at the Black Flame member, eyes turning to him instead. Another one I didn¡¯t recognize.

    He sputtered, realizing how little he and his group were among all the others.

    Cowed, the Black Flame faltered back, while Edwards came over, shotgun still carefully aimed my way.

    ¡°Don¡¯t make me regret this,¡± he warned me. ¡°I¡¯m counting on you being dangerous even with one of your legs broke.¡±

    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry,¡± I assured him. ¡°Those marchers try to get into your establishment, they¡¯ll wish they hadn¡¯t.¡±

    ***

    Three hours later, I hadn¡¯t had to back up those words. And looking down below, it didn¡¯t seem I would need to.

    Well, the Marchers had finally turned up. Some of them. Being escorted by the Watch, and looking far worse for wear. I looked down, watching as they trundled past, wounds on display. Mostly bruises and broken bones, but quite a few had bandaged cuts and improvised splints much like my own. Forty being escorted by an eighth of their number in Watch Officers.

    ¡°Well, that was anti-climatic,¡± Varrow noted beside me.

    ¡°I overestimated it,¡± I admitted. ¡°It makes sense. They came for a march, not for a war. Once the anger wore off and it became clear people were willing to fight back, the fight in them died. I figured more of the Watch would side with them as well. Although if you mean Edwards, I didn¡¯t think it would go anywhere. He wants to keep his patrons safe. Having me as a deterrent helps with that.¡±

    ¡°Makes you wonder,¡± Varrow said. ¡°Wanting to keep riots from breaking out in the Quarter again. Even if the higher ups believes all this stuff involving Changers and such, why not let us be scapegoats?¡±

    ¡°More fodder for the battlefields?¡± I questioned. ¡°The Quarter¡¯s been drained dry when pickpockets like yourself can find houses to hole up in, no offense.¡±

    ¡°Oi, I stole the deed to that, so it is legally mine. Assuming the owner never comes back.¡±

    ¡°Kind of my point. I¡¯d have to see how many of other groups are left in the city as well, but it might be that they don¡¯t want any deaths. The latest wars are over; now it¡¯s time for a lull while they wait for numbers to build back up. Automatons are suddenly getting a lot more funding that they used to. You should see those buildings they¡¯re putting up in the Ironworks. Fewer workers in the factories, more for the battlefields.¡±

    ¡°They could just hire Infernals,¡± Gio noted. ¡°Owners throw a fit, so do the other workers but-¡±

    ¡°Again, that¡¯s my point. We were the ones to fill out the ranks for the army because we weren¡¯t doing much else. For this transitory period, we still are, so no more burning down the Quarter until they¡¯ve got new pools to tap. Once these automatons are doing the jobs of the common laborer, they¡¯ll have those pools. Which, of course, makes me wonder what happens to us then?¡±

    Silence came for a bit, not leaving as both Varrow and I pensively looked down at the departing marchers. Most of them were gone now, letting themselves be herded away by the Watch, shying away from the Infernals who¡¯s entered the street. No weapons visible on either side now, but I had no doubt any Infernal willing to walk onto the street¡¯s at this point had something sharp squirreled away.

    The main damage had been done. A whole host of people would come out of here with stories about Infernals bombing them then attacking them. Any aggression on their part would be forgotten by them and spread as little as possible outside the Quarter. They¡¯d return home to families and tell stories of those horrific Infernals who bombed them and then tried to massacre the survivors.

    ¡°Depressing bit of thought,¡± Varrow said finally.

    ¡°It¡¯s just a theory,¡± I replied. ¡°I might be reading too much into things. It could just be they¡¯re worried about a riot or fire spreading beyond the corner. Could these Marchers forcing them to screen their entire route multiple days in a row have irritated your average watch officer? It could be a few dozen other things. A better question is, why do this? Changers or Versalicci. It¡¯s an escalation.¡±

    The party had been one, but not to such an extent as this. Two different goals were being pursued from their side. Inflaming tensions between Infernals and the rest of the city and whatever they wanted from Lord Montague. There didn¡¯t seem to be a way for those two goals to coincide.

    Well, hopefully, I¡¯d know for sure soon enough. Breaking into the archives could come soon.

 Chapter 72 -Archive I

    Today was a day of staying indoors.

    The last three days had been nothing but that, and I wished I could pretend it was simply me preparing for the upcoming infiltration of the Archives.

    It wasn¡¯t. There¡¯d been no marches in the Infernal Quarter since the day of the bombings. Instead, there were newspaper articles about the bombings and then the ¡®attacks¡¯ that followed. Some had the decency to mention who had provoked them, but still, remembering one.

    The frightened members of the Society for Reclamation of the Infernal Quarter lashed out as only might be expected of a group of people under attack. It is entirely possible that some of those residents attacked may have simply been minding their own business, but one must wonder why innocent citizens would be wandering on the streets in the aftermath of the attack.

    I doubted how many had been ¡®wandering the streets¡¯, but arguing against an inanimate piece of paper was the height of foolishness. The first day, I¡¯d been worried, having made it out of the Quarter and made it back here. Varrow had insisted on going to secure his meager belongings.

    I hadn¡¯t seen him since, and after walking down the street had gotten enough murderous looks and at least one person regarding me with a concealed weapon, I¡¯d headed back. Reaching the Quarter without incident seemed¡­impossible. So I holed up in my own refuge.

    On the second day I realized I didn¡¯t need to worry. I¡¯d made a clean-cut break, an escape until the current situation with Voltar, Dawes, and Imperial Intelligence resolved itself. I no longer needed to worry about the kind of things that mattered to your average Infernal at all. At least not to the same extent. Sure, wandering outside had its risks, but I wasn¡¯t likely to face the same consequences as anyone in the quarter.

    I¡¯d felt sick for a while after that realization.

    That was something to figure out an answer for later, though. Today was a day for preparations. Tomorrow was the planned infiltration of the archives. ¡®Planned¡¯ in a loose sense. I had my plan. Dawes and Tagashin had added to it and had their opinions, but both agreed to play along. The Montague¡¯s had a broad idea that would be filled out more tomorrow.

    We¡¯d only had time for one more meeting between us, so filling them in on all the plans proved a bit difficult. But we¡¯d had enough to put together a plan that felt more than a concept. Maybe not as filled out as I¡¯d liked, but not barebones.

    I¡¯d found out what Gregory meant by his father reconfiguring the archives during my discussion with him and Elise. I¡¯d assumed it was rearranging the Archives by magic. I¡¯d been half-right.

    Mechanisms, crude ones by modern standards, although neither of them had been very detailed about them. Whether because they didn¡¯t want to trust me with those secrets or because they had no idea themselves I didn¡¯t know. For my immediate concerns, it didn¡¯t matter too much. The mechanisms could only rotate and change the positions of sections of the archive, not individual bookshelves. The bookshelves around the administrator offices would remain the same, as would the offices themselves.

    They could have been more granular with what could be changed if they went for magic. But magic could be exploited, used as a guide if you were of the right disciplines and even used to seize control away. So the mechanisms were to them a good trade off.

    Hopefully, those descriptions of the section with the Archive offices would be enough. Guard patrols, I¡¯d have to rely on enhancing my hearing once again and a few other biosculpted tricks of the trade. Alchemicals would be detected, and while I was a decent Biosculptor trying to make myself into a chameleon¡­Well, I counted myself lucky that my last attempt was simply embarrassing instead of horrific.

    Of course, the main effort was going to be making myself look like something besides an Infernal.

    This¡­I¡¯d done it a few times before. Unsurprisingly, making yourself look like a human had many advantages for a gang of Infernals pretending to be a revolutionary group. That didn¡¯t make it easy or quick to do.

    Up in my attic apartment, I looked at myself in the mirror, then the picture I was going to use as a reference. It was only a reference; it wouldn¡¯t do to resemble someone else too much. Although I doubted this random girl from Illtaea would be in the archives.

    Is this really necessary? The Imp asked in my head.

    I paused, Biosculpting on the verge of being called.

    ¡°Not sure what you mean by that,¡± I said. ¡°Even if you don¡¯t have a particular interest, I want in those archives, and Lord Montague would not be allowing an Infernal inside, especially at a time like this. So, a disguise is needed, and the best I can manage.¡±

    Diabolism could get you inside, The Imp said. There are ways. If only you would practice.

    That...was fair. After the party, I¡¯d still failed to find time to keep up that promise to the Imp.

    ¡°I¡¯ll admit I could have freed up more time,¡± I said. ¡°Things move so fast. But still, the Archives have ways to detect magic. Do you have ways to disguise Diabolism to bypass those?¡±

    Yes

    ¡°And even if I had dedicated every waking moment to fulfilling that promise, would you have been able to teach them to me before now?¡±

    A pause before a reluctant No from the Imp.

    ¡°Then I think that answers that,¡± I said. ¡°Something to discuss more of in the future though. Versalicci just used warding to keep places free to practice Diabolism in without risk of detection. This would be the spells themselves?¡±

    Yes, The imp replied. He preferred the wards because he had more control over them. No need to advance the Diabolism of underlings he may not trust. Your half-brother is a bundle of paranoia and fear most unbecoming.

    I snorted. ¡°Ah, because the ranks of the Hells surely must trust each other. Imp, spare me the obvious falsehoods.¡±

    There is a difference between caution and craveness. There is a difference between taking a risk for victory and running away when the die is cast.

    I frowned, feeling a definite barb in that last one.

    ¡°Irritated that I fled Understreet?¡± I mused. ¡°Because that last one fits me more than it does Giovanni.¡±

    There is no use staying on an already sunk ship. The decision that ended those efforts was made far before you decided to flee and his decision to strip you of allies. Very poorly, given three live but-

    ¡°Shut it,¡± I hissed at the Imp. ¡°Do you think I haven¡¯t thought about how many of them died in those opening days? Those people are dead and buried and leave them-¡±

    My words caught out as my mind caught up. Three live. Arsense. Tolman.

    ¡°Who?¡±

    Who? The Imp repeated back.

    ¡°Don¡¯t mimic me. You said three lived. I know of two. Who is the third, and how do you know?¡±

    Actually attend a lesson, and perhaps you¡¯ll find out.

    I growled but didn¡¯t respond immediately.

    The Imp had decided to mention the third for a reason. Another carrot, probably because I hadn¡¯t had a session with it yet. The question is was it telling the truth and how could it know if it did?

    There were some names I could cross off the list for certain. I¡¯d seen and been forced to cut open the bodies myself, something that had me choking on my own bile every time I¡¯d managed to get out of sight. Others I¡¯d merely seen the end of, so some could conceivably-

    No. Focus on the here and now. This could be solved at another time. Another place. Not right now when I needed focus. And perhaps pursuing a part of the conversation we¡¯d skipped over.

    ¡°You seem rather dismissive of his efforts, considering how close he came,¡± I said. ¡°He almost had this city in his hands.¡±

    It was a fragile hold, The Imp replied, seemingly just as eager to get off the hint it had dropped. Destroyed the moment it was brought into the light.

    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    ¡°He got closer than most,¡± I said. ¡°I could hardly call myself his biggest fan of course, but I¡¯d say he¡¯s come the closest to Her Most Profane Majesty.¡±

    He doesn¡¯t even hold a candle. She controlled this kingdom, ruled it, for nigh on forty years. He could barely rule a city from the shadows for a year.

    ¡°She fell too,¡± I said. ¡°Isn¡¯t that what always happens with the Hells, Imp? You reach, you grasp, you lose. Story of the Hells, over and over again, unto the end of time. Leaving everyone else to pick up your messes.¡±

    Leaving Infernals to suffer in your place.

    Interesting. Is that your main objection? That we never win?

    I frowned. ¡°Of course not. Don¡¯t be ridiculous. I¡¯ve read what Her Most Profane Majesty have gotten up to. What devils have gotten up to.¡±

    If you think that¡¯s all devils are, I lower my opinion of your fool of a brother even lower. Somehow, there is still space for it to sink.

    ¡°That I¡¯ll agree on,¡± I replied. ¡°You can hardly say you¡¯ve had the best relations with those above.¡±

    Better than you might think. Consider who writes those books, and consider the Unholy Union only happened because they invaded first.

    The unholy union refers to the marriage that had produced Her Most Profane Majesty, held after that failed invasion of the Hells. He wasn¡¯t wrong.

    ¡°I¡¯ll not lie. It¡¯s been an interesting discussion,¡± I said. ¡°But I do need to focus on this. If you wouldn¡¯t mind?¡±

    It is more likely that Fey thing the mortals foolishly think they have shackled will end up messing up your efforts than I, but I will be silent.

    Not wrong, but I¡¯d locked the trapdoor for now and if Tagashin wanted to force the issue she¡¯d find a few surprises trying to make her way inside. I turned to the mirror, putting a hand on my face as I reached for magic.

    A quick glance around the room for spirits- a few wisps either attracted or conjured by emotion, keeping a healthy distance. They likely detected the Imp, and even as small and incapable of complex thought as they were, they knew to avoid its presence.

    There were a few different ways to handle excess tissue left over at the end of bio-sculpting. One was to store it, typically in an air-sealed container, and hide it away till you needed it again. Temperature controlled, other things that needed magic to bridge the gaps in order to keep it actually living tissue. Clean as well, or at least as clean as could be managed. An alchemical solution typically manages all of these issues. It solved the iproblem simply and neatly; just keep it there till you need to return to your base form and then reintegrate it into yourself.

    Spare flesh and tissue was actually a thriving market, especially for people who wanted more flesh added to themselves. However one should never ask too many questions about how those materials were sourced.

    Of course, the most significant problem with this method when you are altering yourself is if your Sculpt got disrupted. Only other bio-sculptors could do it, but the effects of your body trying to return to its baseline form without the required parts were horrible. If you¡¯d removed only a small part of yourself, it typically wasn¡¯t that bad. Still, if you¡¯d removed major parts and the magic started trying to spread what was left of your body to fill in those holes, moving tissue and organs without care to try and return you to your baseline form, death might be one of the luckier results.

    I preferred the second method, which was just integrating the tissue inside yourself in one way or another. Messing around with densities took longer and was more challenging, but ultimately safer. And my questions to the Montagues had indicated the cast wouldn¡¯t be searched.

    First things first. I grabbed a bag from the table and hooked it up to a needle. Affixing it to my vein took a few seconds, and then a while longer for the numbing effects of the moprhine to kick in.

    It was necessary to keep the pain down for full body adjustments, but I¡¯d need to be careful. I¡¯d seen this claim too many lives after helping to save them. I couldn''t directly control the morphine''s flow once they were inside my bloodstream, just influence it to an extent by where the blood flowed. I hooked the bag up to an overhead hook, letting gravity pull It into my veins.

    The horns were first to be physically adjusted, and I grabbed the left one with my hand and pushed against it. The horn compacted in, spreading out above the skin as I forced it into a cube of keratin poking out. The part below my skin remained the same, I was just making the horns easier to manipulate with Biosculpting. Having keratin push against skin and tissue while modifying the latter so they didn¡¯t rip was the opposite of that.

    The horns spread further, and more and more came into contact with my skin. It would give me a larger surface area to work with once I started transferring the keratin surrounding the live bone forming the core of my horns. Once it was all transferred, I¡¯d manipulate my bone structure directly to handle what was left.

    It was amusing thinking of this versus the public perception of Biosculpting. I couldn¡¯t just push my horns inside my skull, they were bone, I¡¯d need to sever them first then move the internals of my head out of the way, sink the horns inside, and then whittle them down much like I was already doing. So much work to make one part of the process a little faster, with that other work easily doubling the time taken.

    Meanwhile, in a novel I¡¯d been recommended about a highly respected human doctor who used Biosculpting to turn into an Infernal in order to indulge his ¡®base pleasures¡¯, something he found easier to do both because of his new mask of anatomy and the ¡®profane nature of his new body¡¯. Whenever he wanted to change back, just push the horns in, no care for displaced mass or biology or even the fact Biosculpting couldn¡¯t change species.

    Honestly, the only thing more disappointing about that novel besides the bad science and racism was the fact it had never gone into any detail about what those ¡®base urges¡¯ were.

    Not that I was interested in things like that, of course. Some detail would have been nice is all. For¡­.context.

    Besides, your tastes run more to those romance novels you read, don¡¯t they?

    I opened my mouth to snap back at the imp, only to realize that had been my own thoughts. I didn¡¯t know which possibility was more disturbing, that I¡¯d begun thinking of its response even when it wasn¡¯t talking, or that even my own brain was starting to tease me over my fantasies.

    The keratin was absorbed and sent around my arm bones to help reinforce them a little. Some to my legs, spread it all across my body and pack it tightly so the effects wouldn¡¯t be apparent on my figure. I didn¡¯t have so much time that I could alter density too much, and I¡¯d go for a shorter height and broader frame.

    Before I started shortening all my bones, first, the ones that weren¡¯t going to be needed as part of the disguise. The bones of my horns sank into my skull, compacting and joining the bones of my head, thickening them. The sensation of them pushing against the skin wasn¡¯t pleasant, but I¡¯d also have some of that to spread around.

    My tail began to shrink, practically shriveling as I forced cells from it inside me. Bone compressing, muscle and fat being sucked in. Skin grew loose as the contents went inside me, being spread around so I didn¡¯t enlarge too large in one part of my body. The tail¡¯s skin shriveled as it was drawn inside.

    Internal bones were compacted just a little at a time, a careful balancing act of reducing without causing my body to collapse in on myself. Then working on skin, changing the color throughout it.

    Keratin from my hoof went up my leg, joining the other stores as I sculpted the flesh left behind, forcing it to grow out, redirecting bone from my horns and tail down there, nerves growing as wriggling toes poked their way into an existence. The rest of my legs needed more work as well, adjustment to bend the other way as well.

    I¡¯d done this before, but every time, it felt strange, having these wriggling stubby fingers at the end of my leg. What are you even for?

    I wouldn¡¯t be making myself human, not truly. There were differences at a genetic level that nobody yet had the skill to fully alter without a result of death. What I would be doing is hiding the more obvious signs. Sinking keratin into flesh and spreading it out throughout my body. Adjusting melanin to a human tone. The hooves would be a more difficult adjustment. I wouldn¡¯t be reaching inside my still injured leg, and we¡¯d be relying on other ways to keep that hidden from plain sight and examination. Paint, a prosthetic, and long clothing would have to suffice. I¡¯d work on a variety of substances that should join all those together seamlessly to the naked eye. According to the Montague¡¯s, that should be the most rigorous method of examining my leg for the first layer of the Archives.

    Minor details now. Sculpting the flesh around my ears, forcing it to be rounded. My eyes itched as I adjusted color and structure. Fingers softened, becoming more fleshy with each second. My teeth cracked as I forcibly adjusted structures, flattening and compacting. Tiny adjustments made their effects known as I kept at each, carefully removing and reshaping tissue, and redistributing the excess.

    I looked at my face in the mirror. Skin a light brown, no horns, no pointed ears, the small pattern of scales faded completely into new flesh, eyes a simple green, hair a plain brown. It wasn¡¯t hard to picture this is what I would have looked like if I¡¯d been born human. I hesitantly smiled, only a few pointed teeth in my mouth, none with the same sharpness as my hell-given teeth. I brushed my cheek with a soft finger. It felt¡­softer than usual, not quite as slick. No slight scales to brush over.

    If my mother had not gotten involved with a duke of hell, well I wouldn¡¯t be alive, but if I¡¯d been just from a marriage with another human, or even a race not tainted by the diabolic, would life have been easier?

    Probably. Diabolism was the reason we¡¯d been forced from the family home and had been the reason for most everything since then. For why I was holed up in this house. For why I was doing this, to begin with. If I¡¯d been born without it, if I¡¯d been born looking like this instead, would I?

    I shook my head, trying to chase that thought from my mind. It wasn¡¯t worthwhile dwelling on hands dealt. As I¡¯d told the Imp, I needed to focus on this instead.

    The hard part was over now that the keratin was spread, melanin adjusted, teeth refit, and all the other details. I itched all over and everything felt wrong, especially the clack of my teeth as I closed my mouth. Still, it''s time to manipulate the flesh once again.

    Going in as the human version of mys-as a human who looked like me would be enough to raise alarm bells. And similar for anyone looking like Sister Danielle Waters and Katheryn Falara.

    The photograph was such an excellent aid for that. It''s more perfect than an artist¡¯s sketch and widespread enough that you could get ones of more than just the most famous people. In this case, a newspaper article from six months back about the flooding devastated most of Illtaea. If anyone remembered the young farmer¡¯s daughter, it would be as a distant memory hard to place. And if anyone had a good recall, that was what the alteration of facial features and artificial aging would be for.

    Artificial aging only. Aging cells and organs was something you couldn¡¯t take back. Cosmetic changes only to put me, or the Iltaian girl, well into middle age.

    I looked outside to see the sun already past noon and well on its way to evening. My stomach suddenly growled from not eating and the energy I¡¯d consumed doing this. When had so much time-?

    Well, it just went to show how much one could get lost. I got off the stool, muscles protesting as I got onto the unsteady foot and hoof. I unhooked the bag of morphine, hoping the numbing effect would last long enough to get a bit to eat.

    After that, it would be time to finish the disguise, sleep, and prepare for tomorrow.

 Chapter 73 - Archive II

    Waking up felt¡­.weird.

    I¡¯d always slept best on my back, even with that awkward pressure on my tail, but waking up without that felt even more off.

    My eyes opened. I forced down that sense of shock at seeing a tanned, weathered hand in front of me responding to the commands I was sending my own hand.

    I¡¯d essentially slumped down here and fell asleep after I¡¯d put the finishing touches on last night. I went to the mirror to ensure I hadn¡¯t been so eager to sleep that I¡¯d overlooked some crucial detail.

    Staring back at me, the face was perfect. Olive skin, dark brown hair, the wrinkles of someone well into middle age, and the facial structure to match.

    It wasn¡¯t perfect, of course. I¡¯d given myself the illusion of age by forcing my skin into new patterns, creating wrinkles and lines where they shouldn¡¯t exist yet. It would work for what I needed. Moving out of my bedroom half of the attic into my lab half, I saw the devices Dawes had promised for my leg. Attaching it, I was more than a little grateful they had actual formal stairs leading up to the attic.

    I didn¡¯t want to imagine how unbearable a ladder would have been.

    I limped into the house''s kitchen. Dawes and Tagashin were already eating breakfast.

    Dr. Dawes looked up at me and nearly dropped his piece of toast.

    ¡°I¡¯m guessing my efforts throughout all of yesterday worked out then?¡± I asked as he recovered before the toast fell towards the floor.

    ¡°If I didn¡¯t know it was you, I don¡¯t think I could tell the difference,¡± Dawes said, looking over my face as if my actual one would reveal itself if he simply stared long enough.

    ¡°I can,¡± Tagashin said lazily. ¡°But I doubt the humans are going to be anywhere near as perceptive as myself.¡±

    ¡°Well, thank you both,¡± I said. ¡°You won¡¯t be my test, though. We have a pair coming today who will be much better suited. After testing on them, we should be ready.¡±

    ¡°We should send someone besides you,¡± Dawes said. ¡°Your leg-¡±

    ¡°Will not be as much of a bother as it could,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s not well enough to walk on unaided, but unless the Montagues are lying, I should be able to easily avoid the patrols. Especially if Lord Montague has restricted access as much as they¡¯ve claimed.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t listen to her,¡± Tagashin noted from the table while she carefully tasted the tea before committing to a cup. ¡°What¡¯s talking right now are a bunch of raging hormones obsessed with a dandy.¡±

    ¡°Priest,¡± I countered, getting a raised eyebrow from the Kitsune.

    ¡°Priest of the god of parties and good times. Sorry, would playboy work better for you?¡±

    I blinked, then looked over to Dawes.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what that word means either,¡± he admitted. ¡°Although from context, I could make a few guesses. Tagashin is right, though. This is putting an awful lot of trust into the Montagues. I do wonder how much your mind might be influenced by-¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not,¡± I interrupted. ¡°Although I suppose that is what I would say if it were. But we all do agree Lord Montague was both acting suspicious at the party and has been since then?¡±

    Well, perhaps not as much since. According to the couple of talks I¡¯d had with any of the trio of Montague siblings willing to help us, their father mainly had returned to normal, but their brother had yet to reappear. No screaming, no visitors.

    That did not bode well.

    ¡°No doubt about it,¡± Tagashin said while Doctor Dawes reluctantly nodded.

    ¡°I still disagree with the idea you should be doing this on a leg that is to be frank, broken,¡± he said. ¡°Ms. Harrow, it¡¯s a miracle you¡¯ve been able to move around as well as you have on it. If you keep on moving around on it, the damage might be permanent. You¡¯re certain Bioosculpting can¡¯t be used to fix it?¡±

    ¡°The Imp¡¯s made it clear that any attempts to fix the leg isn¡¯t going to end well,¡± I said. ¡°Those scattered pockets of diabolism from my brute force attempt to hold it together will be processed naturally by my system. I¡¯m partially made out of a lower-grade version, so they¡¯ll be absorbed over time. But metaphorically touching them or near them with any other form of magic could result in more permanent damage. So, I just need to wait until I can fix it. But it might be too long for that.¡±

    ¡°I still dislike this,¡± Dawes said. ¡°But unless Hawkins spits something up, this is our only other lead, as tenuous as it is.¡±

    Neither I or Tagashin had gotten our interviews with Hawkins yet, but they were scheduled for tomorrow. If Malstein had managed to drag any answers out of the Shapechanger, he didn¡¯t seem to be in the mood to share.

    ¡°We should have scheduled a time after your interviews with him to do this,¡± Dawes stated. ¡°If one of you two is injured during this-¡±

    ¡°The risk to Tagashin is minimal, Doctor,¡± I said. ¡°As for myself, infiltrating the archives even on a broken leg will be easy.¡±

    The infiltration of the Archives should be relatively straightforward. Since we were only after a list of the titles read and not the restricted books themselves, we weren¡¯t dealing with any serious security the two Montagues hinted at. They¡¯d be frustratingly sparse on the details of what those were

    Getting inside the administrator''s offices would be the most challenging part. According to the Montagues, the staff on hand was significant, given the size of the Archives, but most of them remained active throughout the archives themselves. The offices would usually have ten people working inside them. That sounded like a large number till they¡¯d explained that was ten people spread out among fifty different rooms.

    Storage of what restricted titles had been examined was near the center of the offices, and there would be one staff member on duty at all times. It would mean dealing with them in some way, and I¡¯d been a little miffed about mentioning that it immediately got both Montagues asking for assurance I wouldn¡¯t kill or permanently injure whatever archivist was on duty.

    I just knew the archivist was going to be a pain to take out painlessly now that I¡¯d sworn to both I wouldn¡¯t unnecessarily hurt him.

    ¡°I do think the little Hellspawn is right,¡± Tagashin said, surprising me. ¡°And even if this little scheme just results in her having to flee these archives empty-handed, there¡¯s nothing connecting her actual identity to it.¡±

    Well, that was true in part. If I were pressed to the point the disguise dropped, it would be a dead giveaway. But if it didn¡¯t, we¡¯d put in enough effort that even my broken leg would not be noticed too much.

    Dawes had called in a favor with a colleague, and underneath my floor-length skirt, I wore a metal brace that had been fitted to my leg. It did its best, but not being either a splint or a cast, each step hurt. Thankfully, we¡¯d be traveling by carriage, so all I¡¯d have to worry about was bumps jostling my leg. It also forced the bend in my leg forward, and hopefully, the long skirt I¡¯d be wearing would help disguise the non-human nature of that leg.

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    I¡¯d do my best to ignore the pain. Unless someone, say, kicked me in that leg, I could probably struggle through with nothing more than some observations on the awkwardness of my movements.

    The prosthetic foot I¡¯d fit my hoof into at least felt not as weird as the actual foot I¡¯d sculpted my unbroken leg¡¯s foot into. And the paint we¡¯d slathered that leg in also was less irritable than the entire rest of my skin¡¯s itching from the adjusted melanin.

    ¡°Still,¡± Dawes said. ¡°Tagashin could-¡±

    ¡°Tagashin will be detected before she even gets to the first layer,¡± I said. ¡°She¡¯s an entirely fey creature, and that will be picked up on fast. Calibrating for creatures that are less than one hundred percent magic is difficult, and both the Montagues have confirmed bringing in elves and other races with innate magic before, so I should pass through without issue. Doctor, we¡¯ve been over these points before.¡±

    He nodded unhappily. ¡°I suppose I am just overworrying a little.¡±

    Not a little. It had occurred to me these last few days that part of the reason Tagashin seemed so bold is that the person currently supposed to restrain her seemed so lacking in decisiveness.

    In all the stories released, the accounts I¡¯d heard, the times I¡¯d witnessed myself, Voltar was the decision maker in their partnership, the driver. Dawes was the voice of reason, only that relied on respect. The Kitsune had none for him.

    So I would push. I wasn¡¯t going to let the driving force in this be Tagashin, that was for damn sure.

    ¡°Not at all Doctor,¡± I said. ¡°I just think we don¡¯t have many options left. Anyway, since the Montagues will be arriving in an hour, can someone spare some of those eggs and bacon?¡±

    ***

    After one victorious argument with Tagashin over what the proper ratio of eggs and bacon was my fair share, I waited patiently inside the front door for a knock.

    I was dressed plainly in servant¡¯s garb, complete with a bonnet cap that had gotten far too hearty of a laugh out of the Kistune. She was upstairs preparing her own disguise, having taken far too long to eat her breakfast.

    The door shook once, then twice as knuckles rapped on its surface. A solid quarter foot of oak, it didn¡¯t shift too much from the force and proved annoyingly tricky to open.

    ¡°Good evening, Lord and Lady Montague,¡± I said, bowing after opening the door for the both of them. ¡°Welcome to Mr. Voltar''s house. May I take your hat, coat, and shawl?¡±

    I didn¡¯t trust myself with curtsying, so a bow would have to do. The two traded glances before passing me both articles of clothing to hang on the rack next to me.

    ¡°Are you a new hire?¡± Gregory asked. ¡°Because I¡¯ve been to Mr. Voltar¡¯s before, and I¡¯ve never seen any servants?¡±

    ¡°Of course you haven¡¯t,¡± a voice said, making the hairs on my neck stand up. ¡°He¡¯s got them rotating between all of these houses constantly. Voltar is a slob, and I pity the poor people he¡¯s cleaning up after him.¡±

    I allowed myself a small smile as I looked up the stairs. The disturbing feeling of hearing my own voice coming from someone else aside, that was a decently good impression. Perhaps this wasn¡¯t doomed to failure after-

    That moron! Tagashin walked down in a skirt far too short, almost halfway between her hooves and her knees. She traveled down the stairs on two uninjured hooves without a care in the world, not a splint, cast, or anything else as she walked down.

    ¡°Your leg¡¯s healed?¡± Gregory asked as that moronic Kitsune walked down without a seeming care in the world.

    ¡°Well, it was a bit of risk with the Diabolism still inside,¡± she coyly said in my stolen voice. ¡°But when I realized how much time was between your arrival and the party, I decided it was well worth the risk. Since you gave me such a nice tour of your estate, I figured I should offer you the same. Oh, just without your sister.¡±

    My hands clenched, my stupid, frail human fingers at least not punching holes through my skin as I barely avoided emitting a sound like a steam whistle. Elise Montague raised an eyebrow as she looked between Tagashin and her brother, whose eyes widened momentarily before suddenly narrowing.

    ¡°You¡¯re not Malvia,¡± Gregory said flatly.

    ¡°Of course I¡¯m not,¡± Tagashin said. ¡°Could you imagine her saying anything like that. Her head would probably explode first.¡±

    She is not wrong.

    ¡°If it ever does happen, it¡¯ll be some way where she swears she never saw it coming up until the act itself, and I bet-¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s enough of that,¡± I snapped.

    ¡°Oh come on, Miss Harrow,¡± Tagashin said with a laugh. ¡°I have a bet going on if I could make him or you blush first.¡±

    ¡°We were supposed to keep this going till we¡¯d known for sure that the disguises worked. Although I suppose that was already ruined by you not coming down with the splint on before you started-¡±

    ¡°Oh please, your disguise worked perfectly,¡± Tagashin said, waving a hand dismissively. ¡°I promise I¡¯ll be on my best behavior when pretending to be you. How many times should I look like I want to murder Lord Montague?¡±

    ¡°I have never looked like that in front of him,¡± I snapped. ¡°I have more control over my-what?¡±

    That last word was directed at Gregory, who hadn¡¯t held back a light chuckle at my statement.

    ¡°Sorry, but if I¡¯m to be honest, while you never look like you want to kill father, your face does have a tendency to freeze up around him.¡±

    My ire died as that statement put it out like a bucket of cold water. ¡°Oh.¡±

    ¡°If it¡¯s any consolation,¡± Elise said. ¡°Father¡¯s used to people staring at him in anger so much that he probably thinks you''re one of the more polite people he¡¯s met.¡±

    Gregory looked me up and down, hopefully just out of curiosity. ¡°So you¡¯ve modified yourself to look human? What does it feel like?¡±

    ¡°Weird,¡± I said. ¡°My skin itches, my legs feel wrong, I keep on trying to grab things with my tail that¡¯s no longer there, and my head feels like someone tapped it in two different spots with a hammer. Also my teeth feel like they¡¯ve been sanded, and a few other things besides that. Oh, and I feel a sudden loathing for Infernals and an urge to go find the nearest one and kick them in the shins.¡±

    The two looked at me awkwardly as if not sure if a joke had been made or not, and Tagashin was stifling a giggle. I just knew it.

    I just had to hope I didn¡¯t look that smug when I was doing it.

    ¡°I¡¯m joking. About the urge to kick Infernals,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s a bit awkward, but it¡¯s fine.¡±

    Elise looked at Tagashin, eyes narrowed.

    ¡°So if you¡¯re Malvia, then this is-¡±

    ¡°Yes, I am the world¡¯s greatest detective, Mr. Voltar,¡± Tagashin told her with a toothy grin.

    ¡°Empire¡¯s greatest,¡± I corrected exasperatedly. ¡°Gregory, Elise, may I introduce Rebecca Barns, who will be helping us out today by giving me an alibi and being Gregory¡¯s date to that tea party both your father and Lady Karsin will be attending. Dr. Dawes and Mr. Voltar will not be participating.¡±

    To my irritation, Tagashin skipped over to Gregory, wrapping her arms around his while sweetly smiling up at him as my, no her tail looped around his waist! Worse, he didn¡¯t seem that interested in putting any distance between them or resisting at all!

    ¡°You must be Gregory,¡± she said in a husky tone. ¡°I¡¯ve heard so much about you.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll confess I haven¡¯t heard of you,¡± he said. ¡°Perhaps on the carriage ride over you could tell me some things about yourself?¡±

    That traitor.

    ¡°You¡¯ll have plenty of time on the way over,¡± Elise said diplomatically. ¡°Uhm, a point though, you¡¯re supposed to be wearing a splint?¡±

    ¡°She is,¡± I confirmed, gratefully to be discussing business and stop Tagashin from flirting. ¡°Too many people saw me use diabolsim to snap my leg back into place, and the effects of magic interacting with diabolism is too well known. So since I can¡¯t have healed it by now-¡±

    ¡°I must put on the splint,¡± Tagashin finished with a pout. ¡°Must we put that on me?¡±

    ¡°I could go fetch a hammer,¡± I replied sweetly. ¡°You don¡¯t need the splint if you clearly have my injuries. I¡¯d just need a few seconds.¡±

    I regretted the words as soon as I saw the look on Gregory¡¯s face and the smile on Tagashin¡¯s.

    ¡°Just please put the splint on,¡± I said. ¡°Gregory, there¡¯s a small adjustment to the plan. Rebecca will be attempting to sneak into your father¡¯s coach during the tea party, and will be caught before she can get there. Early enough that he can¡¯t have her jailed on any actual charges that will hold up, but late enough it¡¯ll seem she went to the tea party specifically to do that.¡±

    We couldn¡¯t just have Tagashin attend the party as me, she needed to make it look like it was part of our investigation. Lord Montague had made his opinion on Voltar clear, and I¡¯d also received a letter making it very clear I wasn¡¯t to go anywhere near his estate. Lady Karsin had sent something similar. This tea party, hosted by a friend of Elise¡¯s, was about the only setting in which one of us showing up would be allowed.

    I didn¡¯t doubt that someone was keeping track of the Montague children¡¯s movements and feeding that information to Lord Montague, Lady Karsin, or both. And that assumed they weren¡¯t the ones doing that themselves. Gregory wasn¡¯t the most subtle of people by my standards and he was leagues ahead of his two siblings. So they knew we were meeting. Having this tea party happen with no suspicious activity from me would just make them wonder what else was going on. And suspicion in other directions might find my infiltration of the Archives.

    Lord Montague probably guessed we were looking into him. Lady Karsin, for certain knew that was the case. Either that or she really disliked shaking people¡¯s hands.

    Either way, the least we could do to tip them off, the better.

    Making it out shouldn¡¯t be difficult, and even if things went wrong, I had a plan. A risky one to be sure, hence why I was playing it closer to my chest than the other ones. But I had no intention of getting caught. After all, tomorrow, I¡¯d be interviewing Hawkins, and I wouldn¡¯t miss that for the world.

 Chapter 74 - Archive III

    For once, I shared a carriage with a Montague who wasn¡¯t Gregory.

    Elise Montague was very much like her brother, mainly in the sense I¡¯d had to remind myself thrice now that staring into someone else¡¯s eyes could be considered rude at best, creepy at worst, and¡­.who knows what when the person in question had seen you chewing your way through a cow¡¯s stomach.

    Please let her not ask any strange questions like that idiotic pack of noble brats from the party. Or anything related to said cows.

    ¡°So,¡± Elise finally said, breaking the silence. ¡°You and my brother seem...close.¡±

    You know, suddenly, idiotic questions about my race seemed much more palatable. Or even the cows.

    ¡°I suppose we are close,¡± I said. ¡°He¡¯s been of great help with the investigation, and since I¡¯m part of that, it only makes sense that we¡¯ve been working together.¡±

    ¡°Working together includes going off in a corner to¡­.have quiet private conversations?¡± Elise Montague asked me.

    ¡°I¡­well, it started as a private, quiet conversation,¡± I muttered. ¡°I noticed your band was definitely not full-time servants, and I was right to bring attention to it. For all that, it helped in the end.¡±

    ¡°I have to ask, are you normally this bashful?¡± Elise said. ¡°I could understand it over some things, but just the idea of being kissed sends you into conniptions makes you seem so innocent.¡±

    I twitched, something rising to the surface as if responding to the challenge of those words.

    ¡°My last relationship ended about six years ago,¡± I told her. ¡°And no, I wasn¡¯t that bashful over it, outside of the times we had to hide the bite marks we left on each other.¡±

    Elise seemed a little lost for words at that. ¡°Biting?¡±

    ¡°Yes, biting. We probably did more of that than kissing, now that I think about it.¡±

    Skall had never lacked passion. That ended up being the issue. Passion and diabolism did not mix well. Elise stammered a bit, suddenly looking less confident than she had just a few seconds ago.

    ¡°Do you mean like on the dance room floor when the Infernal-I mean the ruffians invaded?¡±

    ¡°You can call them Infernals,¡± I said, with a bit of fatigue in my voice. ¡°And no, not like that. I¡¯m not a praying mantis. I don¡¯t eat people I¡¯m laying with.¡±

    I hoped that inclination to chomp into someone¡¯s throat had just been the Imp, making its appetites known.

    She at least seemed willing to move to a different topic of conversation.

    ¡°I¡¯m a little surprised you were willing to help out with this,¡± I said. ¡°Your brother has the reputation as the black sheep, was my understanding. Or have I fallen in with an entire flock with black wool?¡±

    ¡°Varying levels of gray,¡± she said, smirking. ¡°Some darker than others. Greg is just a little more indiscreet with his defiance than the rest of us. Although with Father...he¡¯s taken a foul turn recently. Fouler with everyone that he used to be. Before this, it was just messing with father, little acts of rebellion. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve had similar feelings.¡±

    My lips quirked. ¡°I didn¡¯t know my father. I still don¡¯t, not really.¡±

    My interactions with the creature involved in my birth could best be described as mostly relaying messages to the child he actually cared about.

    ¡°Oh,¡± she said, cheeks flushing. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to stir up any unpleasant memories. Is he dead?¡±

    ¡°Not dead, just not very involved,¡± I said, not wanting to tell the truth that he was a devil, or worse, a damn noble among the Hells. ¡°He¡¯s far away and doesn¡¯t really visit or communicate much. So, the urge to disobey never happened to me. It would need to involve someone who gave me orders to obey.¡±

    ¡°Ah, I see,¡± she said. ¡°Sadly, I cannot relate. Since the moment I could talk, Father¡¯s been busy trying to plan out my life for me. So, every little chance at a minor bit of rebellion seemed tantalizing. I suppose this is a fair bit bigger than minor, though.¡±

    ¡°A fair bit,¡± I echoed. ¡°If you get caught in this-¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t try to talk me out of it,¡± she interrupted. ¡°I¡¯ve already decided to commit to this little adventure, so don¡¯t try to sway me away. Besides, it¡¯s a little late for that.¡±

    It was not, and her considering this an adventure was a little warning sign I had not needed.

    ¡°There¡¯s a few places we could stop this before now,¡± I said. ¡°But point taken. Gregory being the most indiscreet though. Could you expand on that some, perhaps?¡±

    ¡°Miss Harrow,¡± Elise said. ¡°Are you trying to ask me about my brother¡¯s sordid past? What would your next question be? What specifically does he like to eat?¡±

    I froze, then ventured out a cautious ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°I suppose I have some things I could share regarding both those questions,¡± she said. ¡°First, there are the orgies-¡±

    ¡°He already mentioned those,¡± I said automatically. ¡°Mentioned he didn¡¯t much care for them?¡±

    An awkward silence filled the carriage as I realized what I¡¯d said and tried not to throw myself out of the carriage. Then Elise burst out laughing.

    ¡°Yes, yes, he does not,¡± she said. ¡°I won¡¯t talk about the circumstances in which I found that out, but yes. We can talk about it more, but two things first.¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°First, I want more of your measure before I decide if I want to help. It would hardly do for me to set you up only to discover you eating him like you do your beef.¡±

    Oh, Hells.

    ¡°I..that¡­.¡± my voice trailed off. ¡°There¡¯s more to that than what may have been apparent.¡±

    ¡°Diabolical rituals, no doubt,¡± Elise said. ¡°A lot more gruesome and involving a lot less nudity than rumor would have you believe.¡±

    Thankfully so, I could not begin to imagine what would have happened if I¡¯d been in anything less than clothing from neck to hoof when that had happened.

    ¡°But more importantly, we are at our destination.¡±

    The building outside the carriage was taller than even Lord Montague¡¯s estate, pillars towering overhead, merely for decoration on the outside of the building. Made out of marble, the royal crest was carved into the center, a tiger¡¯s roaring head over crossed swords.

    ¡°It¡¯s underneath the Central Bank of Anglea?¡± I asked incredulously. ¡°You built it underneath the biggest bank in the city?¡±

    ¡°More like they built their bank on top of our Archives,¡± Elise said. ¡°According to Father, at least. I wouldn¡¯t put it past him to make that up. Anything to fluff the family name and his own ego. Come on in.¡±

    The inside of the bank was just as grand as the outside. The central chamber was massive, with a vaulted roof over a hundred feet above our heads. Finely dressed people milled about, some of them waiting in the lobby while others were in animated discussions with the tellers.

    The bank was one of the remaining legacies of Her Most Profane Majesty. They¡¯d done their best to scrub any traces of her influence over it, jokes about keeping the demonic engines attuned to Greed active in its underground chambers aside. No matter how much of it had been redone, though, everyone knew who¡¯d established it to help fund her wars with..well, most everyone towards the end there.

    Whatever else she had been, ambitious was definitely one of those things.

    ¡°Follow me,¡± Elise muttered, heading to one of the tellers who was not dealing with a bank patron.

    ¡°Ah, Lady Montague,¡± he said, looking over, eyes dismissing me to focus on Elise as he bowed. ¡°Here on business with the bank today?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t think of another reason why I would be here, Mr. Crowley,¡± she replied smiling. ¡°I¡¯d like to make a withdrawal from my account under the Queen¡¯s Fifth Navy Bond Account?¡±

    His smile seemed to fade just a little. ¡°Ah, but of course. You know that all transactions from that account must be handled by the managers. One moment. Aleister! Please guide Lady Montague and her guest to the vault for the Fifth Bond Navy Account.¡±

    A band guard nodded, coming around and leading us through a set of hallways and offices. Initially, they were packed with people, but those rapidly thinned out till we were headed down a narrow flight of stairs. A guard waited at a plain wooden door, looking curiously at us both.

    ¡°Lady Montague and a stranger,¡± he said. ¡°Who might your guest be, Lady Montague, that you wish to take them into the Archives?¡±

    ¡°This is Petroula Xides from Illtaea,¡± Elise said. ¡°She reached out to me a few weeks back about research into the expedition into deeper Illtaea? The one that recovered the Aedolian steps, among other artifacts, and brought them here for safekeeping? One of her ancestors was one of the local guides hired for the expedition, and I promised her I¡¯d let her take a look at the accounts.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s not here to try and get them back, is she?¡± One of the guards asked in an irritated tone.

    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    I gave him a blank, bland smile, trying to appear dull as he looked me over.

    ¡°The accounts or the artifacts?¡± Elise replied. ¡°She¡¯s not here to steal either, Johnathan. Just looking into her family history.¡±

    ¡°Where did you meet her?¡± He asked. ¡°And before you say anything mi¡¯lady, you know these questions are required for all visitors. Please just answer the questions.¡±

    A few minutes passed as the cover identity I¡¯d crafted and then shared with Elise Montague got tested to its limits. Where we¡¯d met? I got in at a social event hosted by a friend of Elise¡¯s because I was a servant of another friend.

    From what the Montagues had told me, the first layer of the archives was filled with books available publicly, records, and other such papers not really protected by any secrecy. Petroula was being brought here as a favor to Elise¡¯s friend so that she didn¡¯t need to check every single library in the city to find it. It took less time than I expected before we were told to enter.

    I walked through the doorway, tensing as I made my way through. The chances of it picking up on the Diabolism in my leg past the layers of skin, flesh, and bone were negligible, but they did exist.

    I made it through with nothing occurring. One hurdle overcome.

    ¡°Your leg alright?¡± The guard asked me. ¡°Looked like you didn¡¯t want to put much weight on it on your way through.¡±

    He could tell that? Damnations.

    ¡°Just these old joints, I¡¯m afraid,¡± I replied. ¡°Never been the same after I turned forty, and it¡¯s been raining too much recently. Moisture makes them even harder to bend.¡±

    It seemed to satisfy his curiosity, and well, that didn¡¯t need to last longer than a day.

    We emerged into a maze. Bookshelves were on either side, the passage between barely wide enough for the two of us to fit side-by-side.

    ¡°This is one of the side entrances, not the main one,¡± Elise said as we moved in, our escort from the bank following closely behind. ¡°I figured a more private entrance would work better. I know you don¡¯t like crowds.¡±

    To be accurate, I didn¡¯t like showing off my disguise to a slew of people in case they encountered me in a place I shouldn¡¯t have been. Unfamiliarity was a valuable shield in those situations.

    ¡°It¡¯s much appreciated,¡± I responded as we walked through the maze of bookshelves. Lanterns lit us up overhead, thirty feet tall and just above the bookshelves crammed with literature. Clearly, there was some kind of organizational system, but we didn¡¯t slow down enough for me to even guess what it might be.

    Eventually we emerged into a larger room, several table there with people reading, many of them in red clothing. Elise went to one, and began talking to them.

    Elise requested a private room for us to go over the records. Some finagling was needed to get a specific one, an argument that because of my joints, we¡¯d prefer one that was closer to the entrance. She argued for one she was familiar with and got it fast. We were soon in a small room with a series of chairs, reading desks, and a single small table we both settled down at, along with several records we¡¯d collected. We¡¯d managed to shed the bank¡¯s escort coming

    We settled into pouring over those old records and other books. The occasional spot of tea while doing this led to a good discussion, during which I learned that Elise definitely did not share her brother¡¯s peculiarities with tea.

    An hour into our stay, a staff member opened the door and asked if we needed anything else. Elise made it clear we didn¡¯t, and after some polite conversation, the archivist left.

    As soon as they left, Elise was practically bursting with energy. She began to rise for her seat, only for me to look sternly at her until she sat back down. I passed over a piece of paper.

    Not yet. They might hang around. Five minutes.

    Mind you, five minutes was hardly the time I would have waited. I figured any more would be too long to wait for the overexcited Montague. She seemed far too excited to be involved in matters like this. If I¡¯d known she¡¯d be like this, I would have maybe asked for Henry instead. I doubted someone who¡¯d seen a battlefield would be this excited or blas¨¦.

    After five minutes passed, Montague rose from her seat and at least restricted herself to hand signals. She gestured towards one of the bookshelves, and I got up and followed.

    A few mimed instructions later, we carefully moved the bookshelf away from the wall, making small movements to minimize the noise since we could lift it entirely from the floor. We¡¯d moved all the books off it into carefully piled stacks, ready to be put back on when needed.

    It took time, but as it moved further back, I could see more of what lay behind¡ªspecifically, a square hole in the wall neatly carved out.

    ¡°How have you kept the staff from finding out?¡± I asked in a whisper as we moved the bookshelf further away from the entrance. It looked like it was about waist high, which would have been difficult for my leg, but it was not impossible.

    ¡°Oh, they know it¡¯s here,¡± Elise said. ¡°It¡¯s how they sneak in things past the guards. Or arrange rendezvous. Well, it used to be. It¡¯s been sealed since it was discovered about four years ago.¡±

    I sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t know what¡¯s worse, that you wanted to send me through a secret passage the staff already knew about or that it''s blocked off. Pray tell, how am I supposed to get past it?¡±

    ¡°Oh, we reopened it a while back, Gregory, Henry, William, myself, and a couple of our sisters you haven¡¯t met yet,¡± Elise said. ¡°We put a false facade up front in order to keep it from being discovered, but it¡¯s easy enough to remove. Come on, in you go.¡±

    I stared at the opened-up crawlspace with no small amount of hesitation. ¡°You are certain no one else will be here besides you while I¡¯m gone?¡±

    I¡¯d already had my doubts about this. The staff knowing about an entrance that lead further inside the archives? Even if they thought it sealed off, that was a little too risky for my blood.

    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m certain,¡± Elise said. ¡°They already checked an hour ago, remember? They don¡¯t check that often, especially with how many people visit these parts of the archives. It¡¯s not like this part is a secret, except from the public.¡±

    An interesting way of phrasing that, but I let it pass as I considered the tunnel. Dark. I wish someone had mentioned that when we¡¯d planned this out.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to need to see in there,¡± I muttered. ¡°Do you have a lamp?¡±

    Elise blinked. ¡°I¡­.you¡¯re an Infernal? Can¡¯t you see in the dark?¡±

    I should have guessed. ¡°I cannot. And we¡¯ll also have to deal with my clothes. They¡¯ll be dirty going through this once, let alone twice. Another issue to solve. Can you check outside for any kind of lantern?¡±

    A missing lantern might be noticed, but that struck me as better than crawling through the darkness. Especially if opening the far side requires more than just pushing.

    Eventually, she came back with a small, tiny little thing that wasn¡¯t much bigger than her hand. I eyed it skeptically.

    ¡°It was on a table,¡± she said. ¡°I think the Archivists use it at night?¡±

    The archivists must not require much light at all, if this little thing was sufficient. Sighing, I grabbed it, and leg already aching in anticipation of what was to come, bent down to crawl into the tunnel.

    ***

    I would spend a few hours outside the moment we were out of here. Not doing anything. Just...enjoying the light. And the sky. And not feeling like a fish crammed into a tin like they packaged them up at the docks. Sometimes, they didn¡¯t kill the catch before they did that; they just took living fish and shoved them in, sealed it shut, and let the poor creature die in utter darkness, squirming against a dozen of its fellows.

    Peering into the Arcane helped some with the dark as I pushed through. The tiny lantern helped a little more. I still couldn¡¯t see more than five feet in front of my face. Worse, I could hear things moving outside, the trotting of boots on the floor. Sometimes loud enough, I could swear they must be right outside this little tunnel.

    How long was this damn thing? I felt like I¡¯d been in here for half an hour. In truth, probably much less. I was far, far out of practice at this as I eyed the ceiling. Lingering doubts of it collapsing on me had haunted me since I¡¯d entered this tunnel.

    Every inch felt like a mile as the still air smothered me. It felt tighter than it had been when I¡¯d entered. Had it gotten tighter? I felt like I was being shoved into a shrinking hole, even though there was space for two of me side-by-side.

    I paused, catching a glimmer of light where none should be. I focused on where I¡¯d spotted it, and then it repeated itself. Like a reflection of light on a spider¡¯s thread, red and green arcane energy woven very finely.

    A trap.

    They¡¯d gone cheap with this trap, having it run only on a single axis. A wire of magic running from top to bottom. It would break at the lightest touch, but if I could avoid it, I should be fine.

    A very big if, I thought to myself. Bum leg, and I¡¯d made myself wider to account for extra mass when I¡¯d shortened myself. I pressed up against a wall on my side, eye on the thread. Make sure my good leg was the one on the floor. I kept the lantern ahead of me, then began moving. Bend my knees a little, use it to push forward an inch.

    I repeated that motion, eyes focused on the thread. There was so much to balance: pain in my leg, weight threatening to tip me forward, and the feeling of dust irritating my nose and trying to tempt a sneeze out of me.

    Eventually, I made it through, the bottom of my bio-sculpted foot and the prosthetic on my hoof clearing past. I kept on my side, getting at least three feet of distance. Then, I went back onto my hands and knees and continued to crawl.

    Eventually, the tunnel ended in the smooth wooden back of a walnut bookshelf.

    I pushed against the back. It should just be a facade. Perhaps it swung open, or maybe it was just hollow? Or a cut-out section?

    I shouldn¡¯t hope after that alarm

    The bookshelf refused to move. It refused to even budge, and it felt like pushing against a wagon loaded with stone. Sideways. Cursing, I pulled the lantern forward, looking over the seams where the tunnel met the bookshelf.

    There was something sticking out along the upper one, and my fingers gripped it. It was a folded up piece of paper, and I gingerly pulled it out, unfurling it and bringing it to the lamplight.

    My Children,

    William took it upon himself, out of guilt, to explain exactly how you have been violating the security of our family¡¯s greatest charge. He has told me about how all of you pressured him into doing this, and encouraged me to enact a most terrible punishment. However, I am feeling generous today, so instead, your climbing back through this cramped little space will be punishment enough. For an immediate punishment at least. Once one of you has triggered the alarm I have placed in there, I will decide on a proper punishment for your entire group. Meanwhile, this way has been sealed, and I will note that the head archivist is also not likely to look upon you fondly for the books you have apparently taken as part of this scheme.

    Your Father,

    Protector of the Imperial Archives

    Lord Bartholomew Alvoneas Montague the Fifth.

    Oh. Brilliant. Well, at least I¡¯d handled that stupid alarm.

    ¡°Imp?¡± I whispered, keeping my voice low. The chances of being heard on the other side of this bookshelf was low, but no need to risk it.

    Yes? The Imp replied, sounding sleepy for some reason.

    ¡°Those methods you mentioned for practicing Diabolism without the effects being detected? Can you teach them to me?¡±

    Now? It replied.

    ¡°I do not have many options,¡± I muttered. ¡°So, anything that can be taught in, say, the next five minutes?¡±

    To move this? The Imp replied. Rot would do the trick. A slight amount, just to weaken the wood and let you push through it.

    ¡°A trickle to make dying wood decay faster,¡± I whispered. ¡°A negligible amount would be below their ability to sense you think?¡±

    Unless they wanted any creature with even a trace of magic in their blood triggering their sensors by walking inside. The only issue is the Hell¡¯s influence leaking out, which would be picked up. There is a fix for that, although I suspect you won¡¯t like it.

    ¡°Filling me with confidence, teacher,¡± I muttered. ¡°What is this ¡®fix¡¯?¡±

    Internalize the influence.

    ¡°That sounds horrifically risky.¡±

    Oh, it won¡¯t be that bad. With the energy you¡¯ll output, negligible even. Besides, you are made of the Hells partially. What is the most significant risk?

    ¡°I looked over those ritual patterns when Thomias and Beth decided on that fool path together. Do you think I forgot about the process of making someone more of a devil?¡±

    Consider that, again, we are talking about a negligible amount of energy and that you have used magic to suppress your nature. The most likely result? Your disguise will be shed.

    I sighed. It was not a good outcome since it would mean having to be more on my guard once inside, but it was not the worst. One thing that was said did stick in my mind, though.

    ¡°Most likely?¡±

    The Influence of the Hells is chaotic. Something else might happen. But what I described is the most likely result by far.

    Not the most reassuring of words, but I lacked alternatives. Besides just giving up and heading back.

    That would be the safe option. I was here on a hunch that Lord Montague was hiding something important, but had I misread things? Was this worth it? If I was wrong and I was found out...well I couldn¡¯t imagine anyone would really stick their necks out for me. And why was I still pursuing this even? As far as I could tell, my involvement was mostly done. The Changers had no reason to keep chasing me, so I could end it here if I wanted.

    Why keep going? Personal slights? The Montagues? Trying to look good for these Imperial intelligence agents I¡¯d entered into some still barely defined pact with? Or did I just want to know?

    I put my hand on the bookshelf¡¯s back. ¡°Tell me how.¡±

 Chapter 75 - Tea Party I

    Gregory Montague considered the person across from him in the carriage as they rode, while a discordant orchestra played in his head.

    Rebecca Barnes had talked to him only a little since they¡¯d entered the carriage, mostly very inappropriate suggestions that he could only assume were because of his reputation.

    Honestly, the way she¡¯d suggested a few things, it was as if she expected him to try kissing her as soon as they were out of public view. Gregory was in the business of romance, which, yes, sometimes meant women who may or may not already be in relationships.

    Tarver liked a specific romance and encouraged it. It just was the kind where jealous family members of whomever you romanced got very angry at you. Most of the time for even daring, and some of the time for making their family member realize something about themselves they didn¡¯t want to.

    But forgetting that, Barnes had never once stopped smiling since entering the carriage. It was¡­uncomfortable, especially the large, toothy ones where the corners of Malvia¡¯s mouth threatened to go beyond his view, they stretched so far from side to side.

    Malvia smiled, to be sure, but after her entire rant about masks, how many of those had been genuine, he couldn¡¯t say. When speaking at the party, with Lady Karsin, with others. He¡¯d assumed all of those pleasing smiles had been fake. The smaller ones, those he liked to think were real. He¡¯d been there for a few of those in private. Smug satisfaction when things were going her way.

    But, that expression was anything but smiles. Anger, frustration, worry. Malvia seemed to scowl at near everything in the world at times, and she never seemed to realize she was doing it either.

    Anger was the first emotion he¡¯d seen on her face, a much different face than when they¡¯d first met. He¡¯d been poking around a ransacked apartment on an errand to make sure Edward would stay alive when she¡¯d stormed onto the scene. All scowls, she¡¯d barely given him a chance to talk before wrestling him to the ground.

    Not the best way to meet. Certainly not the worst way he¡¯d met people. A few foul notes from the violin when they¡¯d met, a little signal from his god. He hadn¡¯t even been interested then, just focused on staying alive and with his throat unbitten.

    He¡¯d thought it just a little joke to make back then, about ending up in her stew pot. That had been before he watched her tear someone¡¯s throat out with her teeth.

    Barnes¡¯ grin shrank a little, just so she could talk. ¡°I hate to bring it up again, but I really would appreciate if you¡¯d let me adjust my clothes some.¡±

    He rolled his eyes. ¡°Like the last two times, no, I do mind being in the same carriage when a lady I am not currently courting-¡±

    ¡°Liar,¡± Barnes interjected. ¡°Also, she¡¯s not a lady. Also, from your reputation-¡±

    ¡°You assume an awful lot between me and her that hasn¡¯t happened yet,¡± Gregory said. ¡°And just because I sleep around doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m fine with everything, especially when you¡¯re not in a body that¡¯s yours. And I didn¡¯t mean lady in the noble sense.¡±

    ¡°Neither did I.¡±

    Gregory frowned. ¡°Why do you hate her? I thought her words earlier perhaps a little cruel, but hardly deserving of this.¡±

    Barnes was quiet, eyes unfocused before she spoke up again. ¡°She has something denied to me, and doesn¡¯t even realize what a gift she has. But also I am chafing against something else as well. But all barbs aside, I do think I need to adjust my undergarments.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯ll be rooms at the Maldern¡¯s house where you can do that.¡±

    ¡°You have already seen her with quite a bit of skin bared by your culture¡¯s standard,¡± Barnes quipped, the face-splitting grin somehow stretching wider. ¡°What¡¯s a little more.¡±

    Gregory didn¡¯t respond, mind going back to when he¡¯d seen that skin. The massage yes, but another time, scorched red and blistered, practically charred at his own hands. He¡¯d been so worried she¡¯d be dead, and what she might think when she rose up to see all of her fellow Infernals burned to a crisp around her.

    He hadn¡¯t expected a joke, not with the smell of cooking flesh filling the room, not with his stomach roiling at just the thought of how many lives he¡¯d just ended. That night¡­Calab¡¯s body, the assault on the guests ending with blood and burnt corpses everywhere, crashing down on that horrific thing the shapechanger had become through the roof. A night of horrors.

    She¡¯d wanted to dance in the remnants of all that, among the dead bodies.

    There were so many moments like that. She could be so witty, charming, open, and vulnerable and then she was cackling on top of a chimney while pouring acid into someone¡¯s face. So seemingly eager to ¡®accidentally¡¯ arrange for them to end up in a private corner while subtly encouraging him to kiss her, then threatening to stab his brother with a knife just based on suspicions.

    It was, to be completely honest with himself, the kind of behavior that should not have him so tempted to go along with her in those moments when she seemed to be acting out a romance novel.

    He shouldn¡¯t be interested. She¡¯d as good as told him not to be interested during that rant in the manor where she¡¯d practically spilled Diabolism all over the room. A diabolist and a cleric. A noble and a commoner. An Infernal and a human. So many things stating this shouldn¡¯t work, that it would be better to find someone more outgoing. Tarver¡¯s ideology was to make sure as many were as happy as possible, and he didn¡¯t even know where to start with Malvia.

    So why did his thoughts keep turning to her all the damn time? Maybe it was just the amount of time they¡¯d been near each other, the strange impact she¡¯d made in that short of a time. He¡¯d dealt with those less fortunate than him at the temple so many times, including those who¡¯d been involved in a life of crime.

    This was different.

    Musings on Malvia and all the strange things she caused to float through his mind aside, there was one part of Barnes¡¯ comment he hadn¡¯t missed.

    ¡°My culture¡¯s standard?¡± Gregory rephrased her earlier statement. ¡°I take from that comment you aren¡¯t from anywhere in the Anglean empire.¡±

    ¡°Oh yes,¡± Barnes replied. ¡°I was a passenger just passing through this little country of yours-¡± Little? The Anglean Empire was present on three continents alone! ¡°-and I got entangled in a web. Until I get myself free, here I remain it seems.¡±

    The conversation lulled, while the discordant orchestra played. A little gift from Tarver, just a hint, a warning. Ever since he¡¯d met Malvia a single violin played off-key inside his mind.

    However, every time he looked at Barnes, the discordant strings were worse than ever before¡ªfar more of a warning than the seemingly bloodthirsty Infernal Diabolist.

    He didn¡¯t always listen to his god¡¯s warning about who he courted and seduced, half the fun was those Tarver considered the most dangerous. After all, the warning was never to go near this one, more to just be aware of what you may be getting into.

    If Malvia Harrow earned a very discordant violin, Barnes having a whole orchestra was perhaps a sign to leave well enough alone. The attempted flirting and innuendo continuing after they¡¯d left had put to bed the idea that it had only been to mess with Miss Harrow.

    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose they have something special on the menu for this meal?¡± Barnes said as she looked outside into the streets. ¡°Beef of some kind perhaps? I need to get into character. What¡¯s that phrase she uses? ¡®Put on the mask¡¯?¡±

    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    The chance of that squabbling before being some kind of charade or light teasing disappeared further into the ether.

    ¡°You heard about the incident with the cows?¡± he asked, tone carefully guarded. There were many questions he had about that particular incident, especially since Malvia had seemed so reluctant to answer anything, which left a dozen different explanations fighting for why she¡¯d seemed so embarrassed and horrified when he and Elise had entered that abattoir.

    Had it been of the horror of what she was doing? Or just because she¡¯s been caught? Was it something she needed to do, or wanted?

    ¡°Of course I did,¡± Barnes said dismissively. ¡°Who do you think helped bring the cows in? They also had to help clean them up?¡±

    ¡°I imagine it was quite a mess,¡± he said carefully.

    ¡°She¡¯s not the most clean of eaters, no,¡± Barnes said. ¡°You were in the room after. Did she say why she wanted to eat ten cows raw?¡±

    ¡°No, although I assume she didn¡¯t literally eat them,¡± Gregory said.

    Barens snorted. ¡°Of course not, she didn¡¯t suddenly gain several hundred pounds. Devil¡¯s magic, more than likely.¡±

    ¡°She uses it often?¡±

    Barnes smiled. ¡°Lord Montague, are you fishing for information on Miss Harrow?¡±

    ¡°I think asking how often a Diabolist I work with is using the Infernal arts might be pertinent information,¡± he said. ¡°But yes, I am fishing as well. Although I¡¯m not sure if I¡¯ve caught the kind of fish I want.¡±

    ¡°But too much of a pull on the lines?¡± The fake Malvia said, that face-splitting grin back on, pointed teeth far too close a reminder of what that pull was.

    He smiled slightly. ¡°I¡¯m used to pulls, Miss Barnes. Even a full-on war with the fish at times. This is¡­I suppose it¡¯s not antagonism from her that is the issue.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re worried you fell in love with a crazy person,¡± she said flatly, eyes gleaming. ¡°I suppose I could answer that, but you probably see me as biased already.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s hard not to.¡±

    ¡°Well, at the end of the day, I¡¯ll be truthful if you still want to ask. You can judge then if I¡¯m lying.¡±

    ***

    Within half an hour, they¡¯d arrived and been escorted to a small, two-person table at the outskirts.

    ¡°Lovely day for a party, isn¡¯t it?¡± Barnes asked as she sipped a cup of Duke Beige.

    Gregory snorted. Above them, rain splattered hard against a magical shield, a dome projected by the Maldern¡¯s house mages to keep the rain off their guest''s heads while another kept a conjured fake sun in place to give the illusion of a normal day.

    Unfortunately, being so close to the outskirts, particularly violent drops of water were sending water splattering over his and Barnes¡¯ shoes.

    Their place in this had been carefully picked out, Gregory was sure. Father had a decent enough relationship with Lord Maldern to arrange seating, so shock of shocks, they weren¡¯t just on the outskirts of the party, but nestled between people who were more focused on staring daggers at him instead of drinking tea and socializing.

    Well, most glared daggers. Triss Bellman, Jacob Mandrake, and Mary Fellstone all were looking very cordially at him.

    Less so for the person sitting across from him. For her pretty much everyone had angry glares. Close to.

    ¡°You seem to have made quite a number of friends,¡± Barnes said as she gave the surrounding families a friendly grin. ¡°Let me guess, this is all because of your nightly activities?¡±

    ¡°Some of them,¡± he admitted. ¡°Others are a little less about what I do during my nights and instead what I do during the day.¡±

    ¡°Weird, I¡¯d think this crowd would find a cleric of Tarver a popular person,¡± Barnes said, leaning back in her chair.

    ¡°Really? You wonder why a bunch of the nobility, who are friends with my father, would find me objectionable?¡±

    ¡°Most nobles I¡¯ve dealt with tend to be on the more libertine side I suppose,¡± Barnes said, giving one of the Fellstone daughters a wink that got a fair few gasps from shocked family over that Infernal¡¯s daring! Unfortunately, it looked like some of them were tempted to get up and drill what a bad idea that had been into Barnes¡¯ head personally.

    ¡°Don¡¯t start a riot,¡± Gregory said. ¡°And ease off that. You¡¯re not doing a good job at impersonating her.¡±

    Malvia¡¯s face formed into that more familiar scowl she wore when she didn¡¯t think anyone was looking. Barnes snapped her fingers, and now a different voice spoke in Gregory¡¯s ear, much higher in tone than Malvia¡¯s and with an accent he couldn¡¯t place.

    ¡°Do not start hinting that I¡¯m not Malvia, no matter how low you think your voice is,¡± Barnes hissed in his ear. ¡°And don¡¯t question my methods. All you need to know is they¡¯ll work.¡±

    He paused, a response on the tip of his tongue. He¡¯d been about to chastise her for how unlike Malvia she was acting, but best to keep his mouth shut.

    ¡°Any specific event this is supposed to be celebrating?¡± Barnes asked. ¡°Because no one seems that interested in talking with each other.¡±

    That was true in the sense no one was venturing outside their tables to talk with each other. Discussion between people at the different tables was quite lively and spoke to good placement of the guests that people who would be interested in catching up with each other were seated at the same tables.

    Which made it even more glaring that he and Barnes were at a table by themselves.

    ¡°Status,¡± Gregory said. ¡°It¡¯s just showing off what good hosts the Maldern¡¯s are. And their social clout in getting so many people involved in the most controversial event of this month to attend.¡±

    A fair number of guests from that party had ended up here as well. He¡¯d traded polite nods with Daven, and less polite ones with Kalrivers. He sat with the Harton sisters, both of whom were deliberately looking anywhere but at Barnes. Kalrivers entire clique had decided against the fake Infernal accessories this time. Good, bringing them would be in poor taste. Most of them joined the Hartons in not looking at Barnes¡¯ disguise as Malvia either, with the exception of Kalrivers who stared very intently.

    She had noticed and was busy batting her eyelashes at him.

    ¡°You don¡¯t seem too interested in stopping me from making eyes at yon stud,¡± Barnes noted wryly.

    Gregory snorted. He hadn¡¯t been entirely sure if the blatant flirting was meant to actually be serious with Kalrivers, or just trying to bait a reaction out of him. He had an answer now.

    ¡°Make eyes at him all you want,¡± Gregory said. ¡°If you went through with it, I¡¯m pretty sure you¡¯d have your flesh torn out of you by a certain someone before the day is out.¡±

    Barnes¡¯ was already sinking a rather low opinion of her with every word out of her mouth, to be frank. Sleeping with someone else in the body of another? He¡¯d hoped that fool idea had been sunk when the scandal with the Kitsune had nearly led to a whole batch of inter-family feuds.

    Then again, she might not be a noble. But that still left the original owner of the body to take her revenge. Whatever his feelings on some of the other things Malvia had done or suggested, that would not be something anyone should tolerate.

    ¡°She¡¯s already poisoned me once,¡± Barnes said. ¡°She¡¯ll probably just do that again.¡±

    That did not sound like a lie, but Gregory held his tongue. Still, the fact he could picture Malvia doing that¡­worrying.

    ¡°Besides, I wouldn¡¯t actually do it,¡± she said. ¡°Just lead him on and see how big of an explosion would happen when he met Malvia after. But you were talking about notoriety?¡±

    ¡°Most of the guests from the party are here. Those willing to venture into public so soon after. It¡¯s the event of the year, and everyone being here means all eyes on this party. Again, status.¡±

    Barnes snorted. ¡°Oh, so already this entire mess has eclipsed those fool youth comrades of yours messing around with that Kitsune?¡±

    ¡°Amazingly, I think death, destruction, and diabolically allied shapechangers killing and impersonating people do win the crown for most dramatic thing so far this year,¡± Gregory said. ¡°Especially after the newspapers spent so much on reporting it. Murder over sex scandals they weren¡¯t even allowed to report on.¡±

    ¡°You think impersonating the queen would get someone some notoriety,¡± Barnes said in a bitter tone.

    Gregory was about to ask what that was about when a sudden uproar drew his attention. A new coach, one with the Montague crest.

    But everyone in the family who could come is -no.

    Exiting the coach was Elise. And Edward. Both of whom were moving towards the party as excited chatter picked up. It would be the first time Edward had been in public in weeks.

    ¡°That¡¯s not my sister or brother,¡± Gregory said, then began softly humming a tune. ¡°Elise should still be at the Archive.¡±

    Oh Tarver, with a tune, I call upon your help, for I fear your servant may need it soon.

    ¡°Hrrm, they could have finished early,¡± Miss Barnes replied, looking at the probable shape-changer.

    ¡°And my older brother?¡± Gregory asked.

    A rhetorical one, Edward hadn¡¯t been seen since Father had sequestered him on the third floor and no one had been willing to challenge that. Not when Father had made it more than clear anyone trying to sneak in would be treated as a shapechanger and shot on sight. The screaming had stopped, so the hopes were for a better outcome.

    Of course, if it was better, then Father wouldn¡¯t have hidden him away. There was a small hope that maybe it was just from injury, or to recuperate from the ravages of the poison.

    If only they could see him.

    Tarver, let this just be unfounded paranoia, but your servant may need your aid, Gregory thought as Elise weaved her way through the crowd toward them. Edward hung back, talking with his father who seemed very uncomfortable but not shocked to see him.

    Gregory wasn¡¯t sure if that meant good or bad things for Edward¡¯s current state. He was more focused on the probable changer.

    ¡°Brother, how wonderful it is to see you!¡± the changer said as she got closer, arms outstretched for a hug. Definitely not his sister, not so openly in public.

    Gregory¡¯s humming suddenly grew in volume as he stood up to return the hug, the divine protection of his deity ready to spring into being. At least he wouldn¡¯t have to worry about hurting Malvia with it.

    ¡°It¡¯s very good to see you as well sister,¡± he said as she got closer. ¡°I thought you were going to busy today, did things clear up?¡±

    ¡°In a manner of speaking,¡± she said, stopping and waving her hand dismissively. Something about the motion caught his eye as she stopped.

    ¡°Something more important needs to happen first.¡±

    One of her fingers, looking strangely thick suddenly shot forward, the tip reflecting the sun as it stabbed forward, forming into a dagger¡¯s point. He dodged to the side, but he wasn¡¯t the target.

    The shifting digit rammed right through Barnes¡¯ eye.

 Chapter 76 -Archive IV

    I had to hand it to the archives. Whatever they may have skimped on, the quality of their bookshelves wasn¡¯t one of them.

    Several inches thick, it was proving difficult to rot through at a reasonable pace. Instead, individual spots would take second after agonizing second as magic simulated the effects of fungi on it, slowly chewing through inch after inch till it was down to a thickness I might punch through.

    There was no question about what this was doing to me. I squirmed as I could feel my tail re-emerging, poking through my skin. My horns slid back into place, bone and keratin pushing skin aside. My toes melted back into the end of my leg as the hoof reformed. Bones lengthened, flesh moved about. None of it hurt, but it felt weird, prickly and strange. And¡­.good.

    It is not like the smooth sensation of making flesh glide with biosculpting. Diabolism felt like a sensation, and despite the pricking of my skin, I couldn¡¯t make myself dislike it. It felt good to have flesh pushed aside, almost pleasant.

    Probably not a good sign.

    I¡¯d finished the circle, and spent some time with my hand pushed against the center, letting rot seep out into the center and spread from there. Unnecessary, but every additional second would make it easier, and build on that sensation growing-

    With an irritated growl, I stopped feeding power into the working. The internalizing of its run-off ceased, and an emptiness pricked at me.

    ¡°Did you make it feel that way?¡± I asked as I moved forward a little, preparing to punch the weakened board.

    No. Why would I need to? Diabolism itself has its way of rewarding uses of it.

    What did I expect? Even if the answer was yes, the Imp would never say. I punched the center of the board, the feeling of my knuckles smashing against it and wood trying to resist distracting me from that farding emptiness.

    One blow. Two. Three, and cracks were forming. Four and my fist was through, hitting the back of several books and sending them off the shelf.

    That gave me leverage and from there I pulled on wood, splitting pieces off and tossing them back. A row of books was in the way and I pushed them forward. I grabbed a larger one, laying it across the bottom of the hole so I¡¯d have something to lie on as I moved through. I didn¡¯t want to move across the jagged outline of the hole I¡¯d formed. I didn¡¯t need splinters of any size inside me.

    There was enough nastiness in there already.

    Emerging from the hole I¡¯d rotted in the shelves, the ceiling of the archives caught my attention. The lack of one.

    Looking up at the sky, I stood in disbelief. Above me, the cosmos stretched out. Stars glowed a soft gentle light, a pair of moons cutting a path with their slow orbit through the sky. Occasional comets carved perpendicular paths across it, trailing light behind them in patterns across the sky. Backdropping it all was a deep blue night, honestly, a richer blue than I¡¯d ever seen in my life.

    The trailing patterns of lights reformed into new stars, all of them blinking. The comets, I realized, weren¡¯t actually solid matter, looking more like blown-up versions of the arcane lights universalist mages would conjure because they didn¡¯t want to waste the coins on lanterns. Smaller ones littered the sky, forming the stars, thousands of them providing an ambient glow to the entire place.

    I opened my eyes into the astral and immediately closed them, tears streaming down my cheeks.

    Okay, far too much magic to look at unguarded. The riotous mess of colors meant this place was lousy with spirits. That meant no more diabolism for now. Diabolism was anathema to most spirits, a treat to others. The disruptions in those movements would be a signal flare to any half-decent mage watching.

    So many spells were layered across the sky, there¡¯d be at least one.

    This all had to be a spell. Outside the impossible astrology and looking like spells, I had not spent that long rotting the bookshelf!

    Neither Gregory nor Elise had mentioned any of this! If I made it out of this place alive, there was going to be a very frank discussion with the both of them about preparation, their desire to keep secrets about this place be damned!

    Looking down a little did nothing for my emotions. Far off in the distance it looked like someone had just taken this floor and rotated it ninety degrees. And were those little dots moving among those bookshelves people?

    No time to gawk. Instead, I moved to put the books back and hide the rotted wood remnants before anyone happened upon it. While doing so, I confirmed a few unfortunate details.

    First, I had been entirely correct when I¡¯d said going through that tunnel was going to leave filth all over the plain dress I¡¯d brought in with me. Torn in some places, smeared and discolored in others, the pale blue garment had already seen quite a beating that would help give me away.

    Not as much as the second. Internalizing the Infernal energies of rotting a hole through the blocked-off passages had eroded my disguise more than just bringing back my other limbs. I looked at one of my arms. Patches of skin turned a familiar blue...and possibly something else. Those fine scales, like the skin of a fish, like on my cheeks. Those must have always dotted my forearms. I must not have noticed before now. Surely they¡¯d always been there.

    Right, they probably hadn¡¯t, but at least they were more like those on a fish than a reptile. Might as well have them be matching if I was being changed.

    I sighed, turning my attention to my immediate surroundings beside the artificial sky and the ninety-degree floors in the distance.

    The bookshelves were on the tall side, twenty feet, and each with an attached ladder on rails. The shelves were spaced far apart, enough that I could see the four sideways floors without having to move from the middle. They¡¯d carpeted the entire floor, as opposed to just rugs like you¡¯d find in most houses. The Crown definitely had more of a stake in this than Lord Montague, considering his meagre business I¡¯d found when doing research.

    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Then again, I¡¯d missed this place being managed by him. Maybe I just wasn¡¯t that good at ferreting secret business interests out.

    It widened further down, opening into an area with multiple tables and chairs, fat cushions laying all over the place. Ah, a den for book-readers, I thought enviously. Before all this, I owned a single, very thin cushion I had worn through to paper thinness. Could I perhaps steal one on my way out?

    Sounds broke me out of my thievery-happy thoughts. Boots on the ground, voices in conversation, talking with each other. Further down from me, so not an immediate concern.

    The bookshelf down from me groaned, then, to my disbelief, shifted. With a groan two sections of it pushed forward like a door being opened.

    I didn¡¯t let disbelief hold on to me for long, running to take cover over by the reading room.

    Three humans in blue-gold uniforms pushed forward, lanterns in one hand and pistols in the other. They moved through, sparing a glance for either side before continuing to move through. The next shelf split open, only thirty feet down from where I¡¯d emerged from it. They were gone in a few seconds.

    Huh. That was¡­..no wonder attempting to stare into the Astral had made my eyes water. Was there anything here that wasn¡¯t magical?

    Above me came a thrumming, and one of the moon¡¯s shuddered, an invisible force carving into its surface. A chiming noise like a church bell rang across the library as it did so, then a voice repeated the words, now carved into the moon.

    Attention all. Entrances between the Third and Fourth Layer are currently closed. The newly installed mechanisms have not properly interfaced with the underlying spellwork. Please do not attempt to travel between those two layers until we fix these issues.

    And then they vanished, leaving the surface of the moon blank.

    Arcane lights that could search the bookshelves, patrols that could open up passages through them at a thought, a moon that could display messages. Where had this been when we¡¯d discussed me getting these damn records? ¡®A few guard patrols typically, they aren¡¯t that hard to evade normally¡¯?

    This better result from that reconfiguration they mentioned Lord Montague doing, I thought bitterly as I crept forward some more. If not, we¡¯re going to have a talk about how much bookshelf climbing they thought I¡¯d be doing on a broken leg.

    Although even if my leg had been healthy, that route would be out. Given the other parts of the archives at angles to this one, it would be much easier to spot me crawling on top of there. Now, if I had a uniform, that might be different.

    More footsteps now, coming from the other side of the nook. I moved to that side, out of view of the passage into this reading room.

    ¡°-gormless, hazing little shites. Sure, leave the newbie behind, just happen to close the bookshelf right before he can make it through.¡±

    Huh. Who should I thank for this? I wasn¡¯t fond of anything claiming to be a deity or similar in power, so instead I settled for picking up a book and getting ready.

    A guard entered sight, a young human with a full head of red hair. He didn¡¯t seem too focused on anything but complaining about his co-workers. Easy prey. I tossed the book behind his back, landing on the opposite side of the room.

    ¡°Is someone there?¡± The guard asked, creeping towards where I¡¯d thrown the book with their sword drawn. ¡°If you¡¯re a patron, there¡¯s nothing to worry about. I know things may have changed a lot in the past few days, but as long as you¡¯re a legal member-¡±

    I hit the back of the helmeted head with a very thick tome on the mating habits of dragons, sending the guard reeling forward. I needed to move fast, because despite the thickness of the book, through the helmet that should only buy me a few seconds.

    The guard was already trying to turn around as I threw the heavy tome at his face. It instead hit his chest but sent him backward.

    I shoved him, forcing him to the ground in a clatter of armor. I could only hope no one else heard. I wrapped my arms around his neck, clamping down where I knew the two major arteries were.

    He flailed, a fist connecting with my eye, but I held on. A greave kicked my leg, luckily my unbroken one, as pain shot up from my shin.

    One-one thousand, two-one thousand, three-one thousand, four-

    The guard went limp in my grip halfway between seven and eight, and I let go before I did any permanent harm. Well, any more that I might have. I looked around for something, anything, to tie him up before he returned to consciousness. One of the tapestrys would have to do.

    I stripped him first. Only of his outer uniform, which was patterned off the army. No backward-bending trousers, unfortunately, but it would have to do.

    In a few minutes, I had a trussed up and gagged guard, who I moved to underneath one of the reading tables. Hopefully, he¡¯d remain undiscovered until well after I¡¯d left.

    I checked as best I could for signs of more permanent harm. I might not have concussed him? Perhaps? I hadn¡¯t held back, and it had knocked him out in a single blow, but that didn¡¯t mean brain trauma.

    Then again, the book I¡¯d hit him with had been on dragon mating habits with non-dragon races. That meant a very thick book.

    I¡¯d left instructions on how to handle him, immediate treatment, and what kind of doctor to see afterward, so that might make up for the probable concussion.

    The uniform fit decently well on me. Good. I didn¡¯t want to go around hunting staff members till I found one with the same size of clothes as me. I took my dress off and then started putting the stolen uniform on. Too tight in some spots, not enough in others. It would be enough to serve at a distance.

    Well, assuming they ignored the horns. And the skin. Maybe the staff members wouldn¡¯t reflect the prejudices of this place¡¯s current caretaker?

    Probably not. Fine, maybe it would buy me a few seconds before the guns started firing.

    I went to the ladder on the bookshelf, climbing up towards the top.

    Hopefully, I¡¯d just look like a member of the staff trying to get their bearings when climbing up here.

    Making it to the top of the bookshelf, I got a better view. There was a third moon of in the distanced, low enough to be hidden by a bookshelf the way the walls hadn¡¯t.

    I settled in, just trying to get a sense of the rhythm of this place, anything I could use to move around in here. I doubted the Montague¡¯s instructions would work. Considering they hadn¡¯t mentioned the several moons, probably not.

    A fake comet would streak across the sky, dipping lower than the rest, bright light illuminating anything within in view. Silent as it was, the view was surreal, but incredible, seeing those giant balls of pale luminescence dip so close to the ground. Standing on the bookshelf, you might even reach out and touch them as they pass.

    Probably not advisable to do.

    Soon after, a guard squad would follow through the shelves, spread out covering a hundred-foot swathe of the library.

    Give it twenty minutes, and another comet would pass next to where the first one had.

    I¡¯d expect something more random, but this wasn¡¯t even the layer with the books they wanted to restrict access to, so perhaps security was more relaxed? I had gotten lucky, I must have emerged from the bookshelf in between the light and the guard patrol.

    I couldn¡¯t lie. Considering what this layer was like, part of me wanted to see that third layer.

    I waited for four comets to pass, occasionally dipping down back to the floor and walking a fair distance before re-emerging. Hopefully, I wouldn¡¯t raise too much suspicion by doing this, but I wanted to confirm where the comets were heading out from.

    They¡¯d dip down from the sky, plummeting towards a specific point in the middle of this center floor I was on, then head out at different angles. They only altered their paths when they would hit the walls, instead changing their path to scan the bookshelves there as well.

    What were the odds that was just a misdirection, a way to throw people off the path of where the actual offices for the staff were?

    Then again, this was a library. A library with a very restricted list of guests, but still a library. And besides, what other leads did I have? I looked up at one of the stationary moons to have a stable landmark to work off of, then started the climb down.

    I had a direction to head.

 Chapter 77 - Tea Party II

    Gregory stared mutely as Malvia¡¯s body twitched, a finger-blade pushing through her eye.

    Screams broke out. The fake Elise twisted her finger, grinning as the other fingers on that hand elongated. People moved away from the tables while the constant drumbeat of the rain hit overhead.

    Rebecca Barnes went limp, still disguised in Malvia, the smile on her face now a confused frown as her legs gave way. The changer¡¯s spear-finger held the corpse up, another pair shooting forward to stab through the side of the throat and the chest, blood pouring out of both wounds.

    The last two fingers stabbed at Gregory and he called on the power he¡¯d gathered.

    A trumpet¡¯s call blew across the tea party and his sister¡¯s body flew backward into a table with a howl of outrage. The fingers fell out of Barnes, forced out as the spell forced the changer back. Gregory went to her unconscious body, blood pouring out of her neck and chest, the eye missing, nothing but a bloody socket left.

    ¡°Tarver, your servant calls upon you for healing, that this day does not become ill-¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t bother,¡± Barnes¡¯ accented voice said in his ear. ¡°I¡¯m alright. They aren¡¯t though, so maybe help with them?¡±

    Gregory looked up and his heart fell.

    He¡¯d pushed the changer into the Bellman¡¯s table. It rose, finger-blades tearing through them. They¡¯d been trying to flee, but that didn¡¯t save them as those sword-like fingers cut through flesh and bone, turning people into pieces.

    Gregory couldn¡¯t look away from Triss Bellman¡¯s face, the look of horror on there. The creature didn¡¯t hesitate to slice through her skull. The expression fell apart as her skull did, brains spilling all over the ground and-

    ¡°Move!¡± the voice in his ear hissed, and Gregory ducked.

    Fingers stabbed overhead, halting where he had been standing.

    ¡°Either stay down or contribute,¡± the voice whispered in his ear, and a pair of needles flew across the air.

    Gregory¡¯s gut twisted as they buried themselves in Elise¡¯s eyes. It¡¯s not her, he reminded himself. He did not know where they¡¯d flown from, but it wasn¡¯t from Barnes who still lay on the ground next to him. Blood pouring from her throat and chest. Her eye lay on the ground next to her, ripped out by the changer¡¯s finger.

    The voice in his head wasn¡¯t Barnes then?

    The changer hissed as more needles flew, and a pair of fingers stabbed up into the sky. The borrowed form of his sister melted, dress ripping. Chitinous plates pushed their way through the fabric, forming armor that following needles bounced off of.

    Tarver, let your good cheer be instilled in this person, and let them know mirth!

    Warmth suffused him. A lute played a ditty and a wave of cheeriness spread through him, but the changer didn¡¯t burst into laughter or even twitched. Not powerful enough. Maybe he needed to recite out loud or physical contact? He¡¯d never had to use this for more than keeping angry parents off his back while escaping bedrooms before!

    The other hand¡¯s fingers lengthened, pointed directly at him, and he quickly began mouthing the words to a prayer of protection.

    The table next to the changer flew at them, smashing into their side. It didn¡¯t break, bending as the limbs sprang to life, trying to wrap around the shapeshifter. Hissing, it fell to the ground, slamming the table against the ground.

    Gregory cut off the prayer before he drew his god¡¯s attention. He¡¯d never tested the limits before of how much power from his god, he¡¯d never had to. Draw too much on your deity¡¯s power, and it could hurt you. Both in the sense of drawing too much divine power through your body if it was unused to it and if you had not fulfilled your priestly duties as you should.

    He may have a deficit with Tarver, distracted as recent events had made him.

    The only previous time he¡¯d been tested had been the party, and his body had been sore for three days after. How Malvia could sling around so much power without an issue was mind-boggling.

    Across the tea party, Edward began shaking, limbs warping. His mouth stretched. It howled as Father backed away, yelling for someone to shoot it.

    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    Two already had, unloading full cylinders. The bullets did nothing.

    Rain poured down onto everyone as the mage maintaining the barrier dropped the spell. Instead, the Edward-changer stopped shaking, restrained by her magic. Father was already halfway across the street. Most of the rest of his family had disappeared from sight, except Harry, who was reloading his revolver.

    One down. One left to handle. Maybe?

    Wood shattered and flew everywhere as the animated table broke. The Elise-changer snarled, turning to look at a space to the right of Gregory. A finger blade shot forward, stabbing the empty air.

    ¡°Oh, poor little monster can¡¯t see through my illusions with those useless eyes,¡± Barnes whispered in Gregory¡¯s ear.

    His sister¡¯s pale blue eyes split, new glowing green ones pushing forward.

    ¡°Those will. Duck!¡±

    He flung himself to the ground, something passing just overhead. A finger-blade swung down and he moved to the side. The patio floor cracked where the finger landed.

    The two fingers she¡¯d shot at him formed knuckles. One on each side of him.

    ¡°Tarver, protect your servant in his time of need!¡±

    He barely got the desperate prayer out before the two fingers swung at him from the side, forming a sharp edge as they closed in.

    They scraped along the sides of a formed shield, golden divine energy humming through an opera. The blades failed to find purchase, instead halted in place. The changer hissed as it tried to close them like the world¡¯s largest pair of scissors.

    His sister¡¯s face split in half, flesh forced to the side as an armored mask forced its way through. Bone-white and with eight holes dotting its oval surface, it moved to the side, something moving inside. His shield flared as the dart impacted, failing to penetrate.

    Something rumbled underneath, the crack from the finger spreading. Vines shot out, stabbing into chunks in the chitin. Thorns burst from the changers skin as the vines burrowed, cutting through skin and chitin.

    Gregory overturned a table between them just to be safe. The creature snarled and writhed, finger blades cutting at the vines for now.

    On the other side of the party, the Edward shifter had gone limp. Two guards and the mage approached the latter, gesturing. Trying to tighten the bonds.

    His brother¡¯s stolen head lolled to the side, facing her. His mouth opened, and his tongue shot out, growing in size. It wrapped around her head, muffling her screams. Her entire head was covered in grey flesh. One guard hacked with a sword, trying to cut through. Something cracked, and the screaming grew only louder. The sword parted flesh.

    It was too late; the mage¡¯s concentration was already broken, and the restraints with it.

    The changer grew with flesh puffing up, swallowing the limbs. More tendrils emerged, holes opening up in flesh as they seized nearby guests and pulled them inside. The creature swelled, already past an ogre in size. They finally hacked the tendril restraining the mage, only for what was left of her cracked-open skull to gush out.

    Something. There has to be something-

    Gregory¡¯s cover broke as a single blade-finger punching through before expanding, splitting the table in two.

    Gregory got to his feet, footing unsure on the rain-slicked patio.

    Fingers stabbed out. No prayer, just instinct, and suddenly he was off his feet. He hit something, breaking wood, then an impact that drove the breath from his lungs.

    Finger blades crawled over his shield, trying to find a weakness as the warmth in his body grew. He gasped, the heat feeling like a fire being pressed against his insides.

    The operatic noises rose in pitch and the shield thickened, the color of gold blotting out anything beyond it. His veins burned as he continued repeating the prayer over and over again as the shield sparked and whined in the tunes of a cello.

    The back of the shield shattered, his back landing on the soaked patio floor. The front stayed solid, only to suddenly turn opaque as the blades withdrew.

    The Elise-changer writhed, vines and animated chairs grappling all over it. Shattered wood and shredded vegetation flew all over the place.

    Off in the distance, the changer that had impersonated Edward had half a dozen people partially pulled into its fleshy body, some still struggling, others gone limp.

    Please let no one be fully inside the creature¡¯s body.

    Another mage had emerged, the one controlling the weather. Spikes of ice stabbed into the changer at different angles. Trying to avoid stabbing anyone stuck inside meant only a dozen icicles had been driven in. Would they even slow it down.

    Meanwhile, Barnes harassing the shapechanger here seemed to be slowing down, the vines and animated furniture slowing. The shapechanger however was backing away, additional eyes opening and closing all over its body.

    The changer hissed, looking around as more eyes opened along its chalk-white skin. It shrieked as two needles flew from up above, puncturing the eyes.

    Gregory took the opportunity. Attempts to influence the minds weren¡¯t working. They¡¯d shift out of restraints. Blasting with divine magic wouldn¡¯t have the same effect it did on Infernals. All he had was raw force, and that had to be enough.

    A blast of the trumpet again and the changer jerked back, the mask-face cracking. Pus poured out of those cracks, falling onto the ground. It hissed, blade-fingers pulling in. Would it try stabbing him with them? It hadn¡¯t worked when it tried cutting, but the force behind those slashes hadn¡¯t seemed a tenth as powerful as its finger extending in instances.

    More animated furniture swarmed it, while across from them both guards had surrounded the Edward-changer. Ice had frozen sections of the changer while guards pulled those captured out. The ice shuddered, then broke apart, chunks sent spying as the creature collapsed in on itself. It thinned, wings emerging from its back.

    Wings burst from the Elise-changer¡¯s back as well. They launched themselves into the sky, bits of furniture and spikes of ice flying through the sky after them.

    No one else was really on this side of the destroyed party. Nothing but the dead as Gregory sat down in the middle of it all. He¡¯d done nothing that had helped.

 Chapter 78 - Archive V

    Finally, some of what Gregory and Elise described matched reality.

    I stood beside a bookshelf, using the ladder and a nearby cart loaded with returns as cover. Someone would be back to finish these, some of which I¡¯d perused for a few moments. For now, it worked to keep me hidden from sight and observing the flow of traffic in and out of the library¡¯s offices.

    They were¡­well; I thought the bank outside had been massive. Not sure if illusion or costly stone-shaping magic had made them, I looked between the three marble statues at the front, each easily a hundred feet tall.

    With how many times I¡¯d seen Queen Aeselia driving a sword into the heart of Her Most Profane Majesty, it made me suspect that hadn¡¯t been how it had gone down. You didn¡¯t make sure half the representations of you were of your supposed greatest triumph down to the same pose and moment.

    Flanking her were two of her companions, the mages Deimos and Richard, astrologist and battlemage each. Honestly, they all looked like they were from some ancient storybook, the beautiful princess, the handsome warrior, the elderly mage.

    I had it on good authority from the Imp that Richard the Brave never really washed, had two moles on his nose, and it had said his eyes were best described as watery. Deimos was not that decrepit, and her Majesty apparently used to have hair like straw.

    At their feet lay offices made of oak, the roof only coming up to their respective knees. Waste of some massive statues, as I kept watch on the staff. From here, there were five entrances I could see, only three of which were being used regularly.

    Interestingly, most of the staff were human. More so than the make-up of the city above, and given whose symbol was above the doors, not necessarily something I could blame on Lord Montague¡¯s prejudices.

    An odd little quirk. She¡¯d taken back her kingdom with help from ten races, and now only one was favored. She¡¯d conquered four. One driven underground. Two holed up unassailable from any assault now. Leaving three in uneasy co-existence.

    Probably still a better state of affairs for them than the demon empire, but sometimes there was no side to back and come out ahead.

    Her Majesty¡¯s human-centric views aside, it made getting inside even more of a stretch. Some things were simple to hide, at least to an extent. Tail? Tuck away. Backward bending legs and hooves? Long skirt and hope no one paid any attention to the strangeness of your gait. Skin? As much clothing as possible. Giant horns poking out of your head? Right, those didn¡¯t have an easy way to hide them!

    An issue to be solved hopefully by just avoiding anyone. My trick with my ears had already come in handy twice now, and would hopefully do so again.

    Watching the entrance, I could see one other issue. Each time before the door would open, one of the group of guards would put their badge up against a spot on the door. A lock-key mechanism, likely enabled by magic.

    The first problem was to get inside would mean one of those badges, which I knew from the guard¡¯s angry mutterings, were not issued to everyone. So, an entire group? That would be difficult without causing a mess, and-

    ¡°Excuse me, but why are you here? You can¡¯t look at these materials till they¡¯ve been re-shelved.¡±

    ***

    One more possibly concussed member of the staff later, and as I checked her dress, one badge obtained.

    ¡°This is too easy,¡± I muttered to myself as I pocketed the badge.

    I considered that though, and how for the second time in a row someone had practically fallen into my lap just in time to help me further inside.

    I was aware of how things normally turned out. If things were normal, I should be knee-deep in trouble. Probably of the shape-changing or guard flavors.

    Instead, things were going¡­.right. An unusual feeling. And one that immediately made me suspect something had gone wrong.

    Alright. Let¡¯s think this through. No one had intercepted me crawling out of the tunnel they clearly knew about. At the same time, I hadn¡¯t triggered a tripwire left there to guard it, and they expected only the Montagues.

    The books here were too important to be so lightly guarded? Not really. I¡¯d gone through some titles on that return cart, and while definitely not the kind available to the public, they¡¯d hardly contained earth-shattering secrets. Alchemical texts, mage formula, accounts from adventurers with minor details left in that were potentially embarrassing to certain people¡¯s ancestors. Not something that people should die over for knowing. And if there were a third and fourth layer? Potentially more? The actual knowledge worth guarding may be down there.

    The only thing besides those entrances worth guarding here were these offices, and the badges seemed like something they weren¡¯t used to. You didn¡¯t put a key like that in your pocket when you could clip it to your chest. Part of the reconfiguration? That might explain the unfamiliarity.

    I eyed one of the two entrances that weren¡¯t being used. Walk over when there was less traffic, see if there was anyone waiting just inside?

    ***

    Far too easy, I thought as I entered the empty hall, closing the door behind me. My ears could pick up the sound of movement, but far off. I had relative seclusion over here. Already the hall had several doors on both sides, but if the Montague¡¯s directions had been correct¡­

    ***

    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    ¡°Ridiculously easy,¡± I muttered as I looked at the door, ¡®Records Hall¡¯ inscribed into it. Not a single wrong turn, and I could hear only one person breathing inside and no one else besides.

    I strode inside, an affable grin on my face as the lone occupant turned around, startled.

    ***

    ¡°This is stupid how easy this is,¡± I muttered as I finished tying the gag. ¡°No offense, but if I somehow got this far, you really should look into improving your security.¡±

    The archivist¡¯s muffled noises sounded vaguely like an agreement, so I kept going.

    ¡°Like it¡¯s all very fancy. Nice vibes you have going on in here, what with the fake cosmos and the moons and the fancy observation comets, but it¡¯s all a bit too obvious. Their being silent helps some, but their glowing ruins it. Silent, invisible astral guides for your patrols would be much more effective.¡±

    ¡°Mrr-hff-rrk. Brrgt¡±

    ¡°I guess it does throw off the whole aesthetic, which reminds me I need to ask who did that if I ever get the chance. Because from what I¡¯ve seen of the current person in charge, he doesn¡¯t seem the type for this.¡±

    ¡°Mnn-frr-fuu?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Montague. Have you met him?¡±

    From the rather violent jerk of the head and the muffled shouting almost as loud as when he¡¯d tried screaming for help, the archivist had heard of him.

    ¡°I don¡¯t disagree. From our few interactions. How are these? Not too tight are they?¡±

    I had gotten to the legs, which after the tight job I¡¯d done on the arms and hands I left relatively light. I was tempted to just tie as tight as possible and leave him in here, blood flow be damned, but I had promised to leave the archivist as unharmed as possible.

    And alright, maybe I was a little guilty over the probable concussion I¡¯d given to another member of the staff.

    ¡°Thff cuff lffr.¡±

    ¡°No, I think not. Not unless you¡¯re willing to go to sleep, and I brought nothing to make that easier.¡±

    That was on me. Never trust the people giving you information when they¡¯ve been untested Malvia. Or if they have holes in their knowledge. I still wasn¡¯t fully sure which side of that the Montague¡¯s fell in. Perhaps both?

    ¡°Ptth dannae conthuss.¡±

    ¡°I will not concuss you,¡± I snapped. ¡°This means the gag is going to be tightened though.¡±

    More muffled protests as I tied the gag off, leaving the archivist tied up to a table. I then clopped over to one of the cabinets.

    No labels, and I didn¡¯t have unlimited time. Still, there had to be some order to this, and some time with these should give me some idea on where to find Lord Montague. I opened a drawer, rummaging in between one divider before finally withdrawing the paper inside.

    Well, I could read the list of titles, which were clearly focused on dwarven machines and their connection to modern machinery, based on the titles. The name of the person who¡¯d read those titles, though, was incomprehensible gibberish.

    Coded, of course. I shouldn¡¯t have expected anything less to be honest, but it still nettled me as I looked through the combinations of letters and numbers heading each of the files. A97F34T7. Whoever that was.

    It was a little annoying how the security measures put in place were so haphazard and poorly utilized, but this ended up being what stumped me.

    That didn¡¯t mean I lacked any options.

    This had been a bit of a rush job. No alchemicals that could have had their magic detected on their way in. That wasn¡¯t even considering how difficult brewing potions to coerce the mind or force the truth was. No other alchemical tools, barely any tools in general.

    So this left the most unstable tool to rely on. A person.

    Sighing, I went back to the tied-up archivist.

    ¡°So, just to be perfectly clear, I¡¯ve done my best at soundproofing the door,¡± I said. ¡°However, if you started screaming without the gag? Someone will probably hear. The moment you scream, though, I¡¯m cutting your throat. Do you understand?¡±

    Muffled affirmation and a quick series of nods made it clear he did. I cut the gag.

    ¡°You want information.¡±

    A statement, not a question. Not that it was hard to determine that.

    ¡°Pretty much,¡± I said. ¡°Whichever of these belongs to Lord Bartholemew Montague would be ideal.¡±

    ¡°Ah, my employer,¡± the archivist said, sneering at the last word. ¡°I should not be surprised.¡±

    ¡°Huh, I thought the crown¡­never mind, it¡¯s not important.¡±

    ¡°We are servants of the crown, yet the caretaker of the archives is our employer,¡± the Archivist said, ignoring me. ¡°How it sticks in his craw that besides the generated revenues, he must also bear the expenses-¡±

    ¡°Not. Important. Are you willing to show me where the records of his readings are or not?¡±

    ¡°And what do I get for helping you?¡± The Archivist snarled. ¡°After you assaulted me and tied me up? How could I possibly be negatively inclined to you? Are you going to let me out?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°In fact, I¡¯ll do nothing at all.¡±

    ¡°You drive a hard bargain.¡±

    ¡°Some of the best,¡± I muttered. ¡°Listen, what is your name?¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± he asked me suspiciously.

    ¡°Not because I¡¯m going to use it to steal your soul or anything like that,¡± I said. ¡°If you want to remain nameless, go ahead. It¡¯ll make it easier on my end.¡±

    ¡°Make what easier?¡± The Archivist asked, face falling.

    ¡°Depersonalization helps in lessening any emotional connections,¡± I answered, moving to reattach the gag. Talking hadn¡¯t worked. Now for the other way.

    He struggled, a scream halfway out of his throat, but a light punch to his Adam¡¯s apple killed it before it began. I attached the gag to his mouth and breathed out.

    Focus. Let nothing distract you.

    ¡°Look, without your help, this is going to take a while,¡± I said, grabbing one of his arms and yanking his hand free of the binding. ¡°Sooner I find the information I want, the sooner I¡¯m out of your hair as well.¡±

    His face paled as I pulled his hand closer. His muffled screams against the gag grew. I wasn¡¯t worried. If someone came in, I had ways of handling them as well. Besides, I could hear no one else nearby.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to keep my fingers level with your arm,¡± I said. ¡°Then they¡¯re going to drop one by one. If all of them drop and you haven¡¯t agreed to help by then, you¡¯re going to be down a finger. Just nod.¡±

    I stretched my mouth open, jerking his hand forward before he had the wherewithal to form a fist. Fingers entered my mouth, wriggling and grasping for a way out. I lightly rested my top teeth on them.

    The first finger dropped.

    The Archivist immediately fell into frantic babbling, but no nodding. I let a few seconds pass before dropping the second finger.

    I knew you would come around to my way of thinking eventually, The Imp crowed in my head.

    I rolled my eyes. Like I would actually eat the fingers. Still, I needed a stick to make the carrot look appealing. My mouth closed partway.

    The second to last finger dropped, and my teeth cut through the flesh. A coppery taste filled my mouth.

 Chapter 79 - Tea Party III

    Gregory sat numbly among the bodies, watching as the two shapechangers flew across the sky.

    They didn¡¯t remain in the air for long, already making for a rooftop. It made sense. There were things in the sky that wouldn¡¯t tolerate sharing the airspace. Best to just change into human people once they¡¯d made it a couple of miles, then disappear into the milling crowd.

    He looked down from the lying figures, to the wreckage of the tea party. Smashed apart tables and chairs mixed with torn off or cut apart body parts. The most intact one was Malvia¡¯s, the holes punched in her body by the blade-fingers no longer bleeding. Instead, blank expressionless eyes stared up into his own.

    Then Malvia sat down next to him and poked her dead body¡¯s cheek with a hoof.

    ¡°Boop. Hey, have you ever asked her why she has scales on there? Did she add them herself or are they natural?¡±

    ¡°You, you died?¡± he stammered, looking at where her dead body had lain.

    He shouldn¡¯t be too shocked, but there was a difference between still hearing her voice in his ear and her standing next to him while her corpse lay in the ground.

    Where it still lay, soaked in rain, bloody eye socket still staring up at him.

    ¡°I suppose I did,¡± Barnes said, waving her hand and the body winked before going still again. ¡°Oh, now rumors are going to spread about the little devil being capable of illusions. Perfect, everyone is going to be that much more paranoid of her!¡±

    Something snapped inside him. ¡°Could you not? People are dead.¡±

    ¡°People die all the time,¡± Barnes replied placidly as if they were discussing the weather. ¡°I¡¯m not going to attach any special significance to this lot just because you care about them. Besides, didn¡¯t you say I should improve my Malvia impersonation?¡±

    A retort was on Gregory¡¯s lips but first, something else came to his mind.

    ¡®How long have you been holding that in your pocket?¡¯ Malvia said, bumping him with her shoulder, uncaring about the corpses littering the ground around them. ¡®You have anything else in there, perhaps?¡¯

    ¡°I¡¯m going to take from that rather stupefied look on your face I pass with flying colors,¡± Barnes said. ¡°But as fun as it is impersonating her, I should probably change before someone notices this.¡±

    Her form shimmered, then changed to a young curly brunette in a fetching dress. She spun around as if showing off her outfit.

    Gregory narrowed his eyes. He wasn¡¯t the best at detecting magic, but this close, in the middle of a change, he should have picked up something.

    ¡°Feel it if you want to,¡± Barnes said. ¡°It¡¯s real. So¡¯s the rest of me if you want to give that a try.¡±

    He tried to think of something to say in response to this nonsense, only to end up at annoyed silence. She chuckled.

    ¡°Again, just practicing my imitation. Admittedly that¡¯s far too forward for her.¡±

    He got up from his feet, not paying attention to Barnes'' words.

    Ignoring whatever the current thing was with Malvia, Barnes didn¡¯t seem to be an idiot, so this had to have some purpose. But what?

    ¡°What are you?¡± He asked, mostly to himself. ¡°Are you a traitor shape-changer perhaps?¡±

    Barnes'' smug grin gave way to shock for half a second before she snorted, chuckling once again.

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t that be a twist? No, no I¡¯m not a shapechanger. What I am is something that they ape. Whether specifically or not who knows, but I am their superior version.¡±

    ¡°Ah,¡± Gregory said. ¡°So you can turn into an even bigger giant white worm with fleshy tendrils?¡±

    Barnes¡¯ smile froze into place. ¡°What a compliment you¡¯ve given me. I¡¯ve heard so much about your silver tongue as well.¡±

    ¡°Well, in comparison to my father, certainly.¡±

    Speaking of Father, he had popped back up, emerging from wherever he¡¯d gone to hide with the others. Currently talking with Henry and the guards, but certain to come over here soon.

    Contemplating Father also drew Gregory¡¯s attention down. The number of corpses in between father and son.

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t help,¡± Gregory muttered, staring across the carnage strewn about the tea party. Body parts were littered like napkins, and the only reason the floor wasn¡¯t coated in blood was the pounding rain.

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen worse cases of freezing up,¡± Barnes said. ¡°You ever been in a fight before?¡±

    Before this mess? Before the poisonings?

    ¡°Duels.¡±

    ¡°To the death?¡±

    Some had nearly been. Some had been offended enough by the things he did to try and arrange that, but it had never gotten that far.

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°First blood.¡±

    ¡°Then you¡¯ve never had your life really at risk before,¡± Barnes noted. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sure someone¡¯s mother and father got angry enough that they may have discharged a gun in your general direction, but nothing like this.¡±

    ¡°Nothing like this,¡± he faintly agreed. ¡°But still, I could have¡­if I¡¯d¡­.¡±

    Barnes¡¯ expression sobered as he continued looking at the field of gore. He couldn¡¯t even tell what part belonged to who. If he could even identify the who.

    ¡°I won¡¯t say forget about it,¡± she said. ¡°That always seems to lead to its own problems, if not the special little hell our mutual acquaintance is carving out for herself. You could have done better, you didn¡¯t. You¡¯ll probably have questions for the rest of your life if you could or not. The question is, do you think you¡¯ll run into this situation again, or live life free of this kind of trouble?¡±

    Gregory knew which of those options he¡¯d prefer, obviously. But the world¡¯s respect for that decision was probably low.

    ¡°I think I need to prepare for it to happen again,¡± he said. ¡°I don¡¯t think I can just go by hoping it never happens again. That doesn¡¯t mean I want to be like some people and barely let it weigh on me at all.¡±

    ¡°Getting cold feet before dipping your pen into an inkwell full of crazy are we?¡± Barnes said, teasing tone back in her voice.

    ¡°Do you have to tease and prod?¡± Gregory said. Just when he¡¯d thought she was being genuine. It would have been the first time since they¡¯d met.

    ¡°I kind of have to,¡± Barnes said. ¡°I¡¯d say more, but I¡¯m not allowed to spread that info around as much. No one else being around is the only reason I¡¯m risking this much. But still, answer the question.¡±

    ¡°I¡­she seems complicated,¡± Gregory said.

    Barnes rolled her eyes. ¡°Ah, an evasion if ever I¡¯ve heard one. Most people, in my opinion, are complicated. Especially the ones most likely to be dismissed as simple. Do not do the devil the courtesy or discourtesy of treating her like some special little snowflake. Very few of those exist, and she is definitely not one of them. You look hard enough, you¡¯ll find a dozen Malvia Harrows, only I think for most of them you won¡¯t be nearly as sympathetic. Your first meeting, she happened upon you apparently frisking her rooms, so how much did you question her first response being to wrestle you to the ground with a knife to your throat?¡±

    ¡°I think if my sisters caught me going through their rooms, they¡¯d not hesitate to put a knife to mine,¡± Gregory admitted, a small smile creeping onto his face.

    ¡°Yes. Now what if you stumbled onto one of your siblings cutting someone''s eyes out till they told them a safe combination?¡±

    The smile vanished. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Sorry, sorry. I suppose my thoughts were influenced by the fight a little. What if you happened upon one of them biting someone¡¯s fingers off as an intimidation tactic then?¡±

    ¡°Do not be ridiculous.¡±

    ¡°Fair. I suppose it would be harder for humans than it was for her.¡±

    He was about to retort when the wording caught his attention. ¡°Was? Then you know she did this before.¡±

    ¡°Educated guesswork,¡± Barnes said. ¡°Have I read whatever file she has with the Watch? No. But they don¡¯t have reserved cells for ordinary criminals, even if they¡¯re Black Flame. Some of the stories Voltar has told as well have been¡­interesting.¡±

    That Gregory would have considered more a few weeks back when the detective was an intelligent figure he occasionally crossed paths with. Weirdly, ever since the party, looking back through his own thoughts¡­.the detective had been acting much lesser than he used to. Strange.

    ¡°So educated guesswork,¡± Gregory said.

    ¡°If you want to doubt it, go ask Captain Malstein of the watch for the files on her. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll find plenty to make up your own mind.¡±

    That wasn¡¯t actually a bad suggestion. Not that the Watch would be unbiased, but they¡¯d be less biased than Barnes. Probably.

    Any further conversation was cut off by the arrival of Father, who¡¯d finally worked his way far around the tea party floor and the bodies on it to them. A scented handkerchief pressed firmly against his face to block the smell, he stared at Barnes before turning to glare at Gregory.

    Gregory didn¡¯t wilt. It was a mild scorn, one that essentially always colored his Father¡¯s gaze when pointed his way. Lord Montague was not upset. At least not any more than usual.

    ¡°Gregory. And someone else. Someone who was not at the party. Who are you?¡±

    ¡°An associate of Voltar¡¯s,¡± Barnes¡¯ said. ¡°Sent by the detective to make sure things went alright and to keep an eye on certain people.¡±

    ¡°You are doing just as good a job as he did,¡± Lord Montague said, bitterness in his words.

    ¡°Whoops.¡±

    You know, perhaps he shouldn¡¯t have felt so bad when Malvia had been berating Barnes earlier.

    "A pity she died,¡± Father noted, looking down at the dead Malvia with a hint of regret. That, to Gregory¡¯s shock, actually sounded genuine.

    ¡°I¡¯m shocked you go so far as a pity, Father.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not heartless, boy,¡± Lord Montague said reproachfully. ¡°She did end up doing me a good turn in the end, regardless of the road it took to get there. Did she worship any deities?¡±

    The question took Gregory off-guard, and he looked over to Barnes who shook her head minutely while his father¡¯s attention was on the corpse.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think she worshipped any,¡± Gregory said. ¡°What little she spoke to me of any of them wasn¡¯t admiring in any way.¡±

    ¡°A public graveyard then,¡± Father said. ¡°I will cover the costs out of my own pocket.¡±

    ¡°Generous,¡± Gregory noted sardonically.

    "I pay back my debts. As you should well know by now Gregory. And a public graveyard is what she deserves.¡±

    Well, the debts he was held accountable to. And when lawyers wouldn¡¯t cost more than the debt. And when the contract set up for debts wasn¡¯t written with a nifty little escape clause. And-why was he thinking this much about it? It was purely for the benefit of Miss Barnes probably.

    ¡°Something to be arranged later,¡± Lord Montague said, already heading back to the guards, carefully treading among the dead bodies, handkerchief held so tightly it probably should asphyxiate him. ¡°We will talk more next time you are home, Gregory.¡±

    His father slipped on a wet patch on the stones, landing with an undignified squawk amidst the corpses. Barnes sniggered.

    ¡°Oh, come on. It¡¯s a little funny.¡±

    ¡°Less funny when you know the people whose ribcage just got a boot through it,¡± Gregory said, wincing as Lord Montague swore up a storm while trying to remove his boot from Donald Derren¡¯s limbless torso.

    With a final squelch and a disgusted groan, Lord Montague finally pulled his boot free, and turned to glare at Gregory and Barnes. The latter had stopped sniggering, so after a few seconds he continued walking toward the guards.

    ¡°I think it¡¯s pretty clear who was supposed to die at today¡¯s events,¡± Barnes said quietly. ¡°Very¡­.elegant?¡±

    ¡°Me, my father, and Malvia?¡±

    ¡°Remove that middle name from the list, and I think you have it,¡± Barnes said. ¡°Forgive me for not falling for the mournful act your father is putting on. Mind you, I don¡¯t think he¡¯d act like I would and prance on her body as soon as it was cool, but he¡¯s nowhere near as mournful as he appeared. And that venom for you-¡±

    ¡°Is normal for what he thinks of me,¡± Gregory finished for her.

    ¡°If he normally has murderous intent towards you, then certainly,¡± she replied. ¡°He was very close to that shapechanger. Yet not a scratch. Same for the rest of your family it looks like. Meanwhile, if it wasn¡¯t for me impersonating Malvia and then intervening to prevent your death, would the two of you be alive?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Gregory said, looking at where his father now talked with several of the guards.

    Father has been acting suspiciously yes, but working with the shapechangers had never crossed his mind until now. Now though, well it was only suspicion.

    Unless they found proof, it would only remain suspicion.

 Chapter 80 - Archive VI

    ¡°Spppf!¡±

    I paused, the edge of my teeth lightly poking into his skin. The archivist was nodding vigorously while also screaming loud enough that it sounded like a hog squealing.

    Wrong comparison to make. My stomach grumbled in response as my mouth salivated. The Archivist¡¯s muffled shrieking somehow grew even louder.

    I opened my mouth and released his hand.

    ¡°Be quiet,¡± I whispered. There was no one close enough to overhear, at least that I could hear walking about. Still, best not to risk anything, or clue him in that I could tell.

    First problem. Torture was a terrible tool for getting accurate information out of people. At best you got what they thought you wanted to hear, which might be the truth. Worse, they lied out of spite and to make you stop, giving misleading answers.

    There were ways around that, but I didn¡¯t have anyone or anything on hand to threaten instead. Only inflicting personal pain on him. And I doubted I¡¯d find someone he cared about. Maybe a co-worker? Too much risk though.

    Although that did give a direction to aim.

    ¡°So, Mister Archivist-¡±

    ¡°Martel,¡± the Archivist interjected, glaring at me.

    "Mister Martel,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m just here to find out what Lord Montague has been looking into, for reasons that are altruistic.¡±

    ¡°And your first instinct instead of asking was to break into our Archives and torture me?¡± he scowled. ¡°Spare me the lies.¡±

    ¡°You work for Her Majesty¡¯s Government,¡± I replied. ¡°So do I, in a roundabout way. You want to argue we don¡¯t utilize distasteful methods to get what we want sometimes?¡±

    Wait. Shite. Could I have approached Intelligence about arranging this instead?

    Then again my one contact remained goddamn Dawes, which was troubling on its own. Apparently, shapechangers running around killing low-ranking nobles wasn¡¯t enough to get their attention?

    ¡°You put my hand in your mouth and threatened to bite my fingers off,¡± Martel hissed. ¡°And that¡¯s merely distasteful to you?¡±

    I sighed. This wasn¡¯t getting anywhere. Time to try a different tack.

    ¡°What do you think of Lord Montague, Mister Martel?¡±

    The Archivist¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°I think he¡¯s a pompous blowhard who got in here because of the efforts of his sire and other predecessors. He treats this as a business and a way to claim prestige, not as a duty.¡±

    ¡°So, a low opinion then?¡±

    ¡°He docked my pay and scheduled me for twice my usual hours,¡± The Archivist said. ¡°Part of which meant I was here when you decided you needed a torture victim.¡±

    Ahck. Every route of conversation was continuously leading back to that little detail.

    ¡°So you do think he would exploit the archive for personal gain? Even in a case where others lives are at risk? Or already dead?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not a moron,¡± Martel said. ¡°You¡¯re accusing his lordship of being a shapechanger? Impossible. The deeper layers would have ferreted that out-¡±

    ¡°Not a shapechanger,¡± I said. ¡°Working with shapechangers perhaps. But events in recent days don¡¯t add up, especially his actions concerning them. I¡¯m currently trying to investigate this, on behalf of the victims, myself, and people I probably shouldn¡¯t name.¡±

    Throwing Intelligence¡¯s name around this wouldn¡¯t be my smartest move.

    ¡°I want something for this,¡± Martel said. ¡°If for nothing else you biting into my fingers. A recommendation. A cushier position. Time off. Something. Also just don¡¯t bite me again.¡±

    ¡°Well, I can guarantee at least least one of those things.¡±

    ¡°A123B456,¡± Martel said. ¡°That¡¯s his code. Should be the filing cabinet closest to the door, second shelf.¡±

    One quick inspection later and I was leafing through the list of titles Lord Montague had been looking over from deeper in the archives for the past month.

    ¡°Adventurer testimonials,¡± I muttered, looking through the first page. Most of these dated back to a period starting three hundred and seventy years ago and stretched for sixty afterward. Interesting.

    ¡°I¡¯ve read some of these,¡± I said, tapping a finger gently on three names I recognized. ¡°Why are they being recorded if they¡¯re publicly available?¡±

    ¡°Unredacted versions,¡± Martel said, trying to scooch a little closer despite his bonds. ¡°What¡¯s publicly available is censored. Outside of what was already out there before Her Majesty¡¯s government decided to censor parts.¡±

    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

    Hrrm. That made sense, although if it was that recent it felt like I would have heard of it by now. Possibly that policy predated Her Majesty. Still, I did recognize those names for a reason.

    ¡°So, Lord Montague thinks these shapechangers are specific ones from the attempted infiltration of the Duchy of Anvlia?¡± I asked myself as I turned to the next page.

    That had been before the attempted invasion of the Hells. Shapechangers had targeted the duchy¡¯s royal families over several decades, a slow takeover of the province that had started with minor families on the fringe and worked its way inwards. By the time a pair of paladins leading an adventuring guild had discovered this, they¡¯d become entrenched enough that it took a decade of effort by various adventuring groups and the king¡¯s army was required to fully eliminate the shapechangers. Most of the ruling house, the House of Tarry, had ended up being shapechangers if I remembered correctly.

    Well, they¡¯d missed quite a few if these were the same ones. Those had assumed more monstrous forms, so that fit. Not quite to the same size as Hawkins, but perhaps they¡¯d discovered some new quirk over the centuries? They fit the bill well enough, which is probably what Lord Montague had concluded.

    ¡°So, he figured he knew which kind of shapechanger,¡± I mused. ¡°Maybe he remembered the case being similar? Replacing nobility at the youth first, although that¡¯s a tenuous connection. Have you read these accounts?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Martel replied flatly. ¡°There are thousands, if not tens of thousands of books stored on the third layer and deeper. I¡¯m not even allowed past the third.¡±

    ¡°Worth a shot,¡± I said. ¡°So he¡¯s after the redacted details. Making sure they¡¯re the same?¡±

    Theorizing would only do so much good. I looked through the titles on the second page.

    The Noble Lineage of the Royal Houses of Anvlia

    History of the House of Tarry

    Three more titles made up the bottom of the page, each of them having a little symbol next to them, a set of scales, and a sword balanced across it.

    Journal of Dustin Tarry

    An examination of shapechanger corpses from the Tarry incident

    Testimony of Dustin Tarry

    ¡°The marks there next to those titles,¡± I said, tapping the scales and sword. ¡°What are they?¡±

    Martel looked at them and his face paled. ¡°The most secure section of the archives. If something is there, it¡¯s meant for certain eyes only. I didn¡¯t know Lord Montague was allowed to read those materials. He shouldn''t be able to, not without a member of the Queen¡¯s family there to authorize it.¡±

    Well, perhaps his children weren¡¯t the only ones with a way past some of the Archives¡¯ rules.

    ¡°Well, the Tarrys were the ducal family involved in the shapechanger incident,¡± I said mostly to myself. ¡°One of the primary targets. Dustin, the name rings a bell but he wasn¡¯t one of those targeted or even one of the main family.¡±

    ¡°I remember the name,¡± Martel said. ¡°We were asked to keep an eye open for any copies of works involving him a few weeks back.¡±

    A few weeks back would place it just before the decision that I and Voltar would attend Lord Montague¡¯s party. So he¡¯d already been looking into this back then.

    Testimony could mean the account of the survivor. It could also mean the account of an entirely different role in a tragedy.

    Perpetrator.

    Dustin Tarry had been a minor member of the house, a cousin to the main line from a distant branch with no chance of inheriting, Even if by some miracle he had, there would be no chance of respect from the more powerful noble vassals. Unless one could guarantee the loyalty of all involved and could manipulate not with social skills but by replacing everyone involved with his creations.

    And if they were his creations, he would know their biology. The methods for making more of them.

    Was it that simple? Was what they¡¯d been after all this time how to make more of themselves?

    If they were creations of one of those proto-Biosculptors, they definitely wouldn¡¯t know that secret themselves. Dustin Tarry clearly had kept his efforts secret till the very end, and I doubted anyone who¡¯d managed to survive that mess would have made so basic a mistake.

    It could be something else as well, but clearly, information about the shapechangers is what Lord Montague had found. And if the Shapechangers had planned all along to come into here, probably what they had been after too.

    They were trying to preserve their species, and reproduce. Something they¡¯d be certain to be denied if they¡¯d revealed themselves and asked. There¡¯d always be the fear. No one wanted shapechangers who could keep on creating more of themselves without limit.

    They were condemned just for the species they held. I¡¯d be more sympathetic if they hadn¡¯t chosen these methods to do it.

    ¡°He found out how to make them, and he made a deal with them,¡± I mused. ¡°Traded that to them in return for his son being kept alive? No, it must be more than that. He has what they want, and if he plays his cards right, he should be the only one with that information. He can¡¯t remove those books from the premises, can he?¡±

    ¡°Definitely not,¡± Martel answered confidently. ¡°He must have had a member of the royal family in here to approve of his viewing these titles, but they¡¯d never let him remove one.¡±

    ¡°Hrrm,¡± My tail whipped back and forth as I thought. It reached out and opened the filing cabinet, grabbing another folder from inside as I looked at the list.

    ¡°A member of the royal family. The immediate family?¡±

    ¡°Of course!¡±

    ¡°I imagine one of them visiting would be the talk of the archives, wouldn¡¯t it? Has it been the talk of the archives?¡±

    Martel opened his mouth, then paused, then frowned. ¡°I¡­one of them could have arrived in secret perhaps.¡±

    ¡°But unlikely,¡± I said, opening up the second folder. Blank. Lord Montague¡¯s research into this subject was specific to this month.

    ¡°More likely than him making it past the security of the final part of the archives,¡± Martel countered, voice almost desperate. ¡°Not even being the caretaker should afford him any advantages there.¡±

    ¡°I think I¡¯ll have to confirm that myself,¡± I said. ¡°Sorry about the ropes. And the hand. I keep my teeth very clean, so they shouldn¡¯t become infected if you wash them thoroughly. It should take you maybe another fifteen minutes to get that knot undone?¡±

    He¡¯d been trying to subtly work on it the entire time we¡¯d been here. Trying. He looked up at me, fear lurking in those eyes.

    I¡­.I guess I deserved that.

    I could try and secure these books, and figure it out myself, but getting into the deepest layers of these archives did not seem likely. And another alternative existed. Interrogating his lordship myself.

    And also to slip out before Martel started thinking of something for me to get him.

    ¡°Hopefully our paths never cr-¡±

    I stopped, the sounds of walking getting closer. Not just walking, but a conversation as well.

    ¡°It¡¯s most unusual for his lordship to send people to directly view the lists,¡± one voice said, weak and reedish. ¡°Normally he comes himself.¡±

    ¡°Unforeseen complications,¡± a person replied, voice deep and gravelly. ¡°And it¡¯s hardly the only thing he wants done. Just the closest.¡±

    Well. This was a problem.

 Chapter 81 - Archive VII

    I hurried over to Martel, grabbing the back of his bonds.

    ¡°Not a word,¡± I hissed as I dragged him with both hands, stuffing the list of Lord Montague¡¯s titles into my pockets using my tail.

    The skin of my diabolism-tainted arm tingled, bits of crimson deepening in hue. Deepening out of anticipation.

    I tried to breathe more slowly even as I continued dragging Martel. Remain calm Malvia. No need for violence just yet. There were rows of filing cabinets in here, plenty of room to hide until they left.

    Well, except that they would wonder where Martel is, but I could do something to that bridge when we came to it. In say, two minutes from the echo of their steps?

    ¡°We are about to have company,¡± I whispered to Martel. ¡°Some of them are undoubtedly your friends. Others are definitely not, since Lord Montague has sent them. Probably to destroy this list and cover his tracks. And probably handle any witnesses to that. Which means you and whoever they¡¯ve roped into this as well. Probably change into you on their way out.¡±

    That last bit was pure conjecture, of course, but anything to get across the idea that speaking up wouldn¡¯t end well for him.

    He nodded, face paling a little. Maybe a bit too much? I didn¡¯t want him to pass out. Then they would definitely know something strange was occuring.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to cut you loose, and you need to pretend like everything is normal,¡± I said. ¡°If it goes well, I just leave, and no one knows I was here. If something else happens, just run. You understand?¡±

    A shaky nod was my only response. His face grew even paler when I pulled out a thin knife.

    Trust. Extremely shaky. Although even if he gave me away, I wouldn¡¯t be in too much of a worse spot than if I didn¡¯t free him.

    I sliced through the bonds, considered giving him Lord Montague¡¯s list for half a second, then swiftly reconsidered. I needed hard evidence to give the others, and even if the two coming asked specifically for these, I¡¯d think of something.

    Probably fire, but it would be something.

    Martel got up as I finished cutting his bonds, backing away from me as he eyed me uncertainly.

    We had little time. A minute? Two? I gestured towards the door silently, then moved further into the rows of cabinets, looking for a place to hide.

    I probably should have verbalized some threat to not sell me out, but I didn¡¯t need to. He should understand that implicitly.

    Martel shakily returned to his post, breathing deeply as some color returned to his face. His eyes kept glancing over to the row of cabinets I was hiding behind, which were more than a little irritating. Was it too much to ask for people to be professional about these things?

    I settled in at the end, producing a small mirror from a pocket. Not the best view looking at the reflection. Still stealthier than sticking my head around the end of the row of cabinets. By now, Martel had mastered his urge to stare at my hiding spot.

    The door opened, letting in the small group.

    Three people, an older woman in clothing similar to Martel¡¯s, flanked by a pair of men in fine suits. The left one had an affable grin and red muttonchops, the right one a shaved head and a scar going across the bridge of his nose.

    Either shape-changers or hired toughs. Preferably the latter, but knowing my luck most likely the former.

    ¡°Ah, Arstel,¡± Martel said. ¡°We have guests in the records room? Most unusual.¡±

    The one on the left of the archivist smiled warmly. ¡°We know. Most sorry to intrude on you. It¡¯s just our mutual master has demands to make of us.¡±

    ¡°The Crown?¡± Martel asked.

    ¡°Ah, no Jacob. They are here on behalf of Lord Montague.¡±

    ¡°Not our mutual master then,¡± Martel said, irritation in his voice. ¡°Employer, yes, but the Crown is master to all of us. Why have you come here?¡±

    ¡°His lordship wishes to have a copy of his record made,¡± the left one said while the right eyed the floor, a scowl developing on his face.

    The Hells? Had I missed some track or sign I¡¯d left there he was picking up on?

    ¡°Most unusual that he didn¡¯t come himself,¡± Martel observed.

    ¡°His lordship doesn¡¯t have time to attend every little errand himself,¡± Muttonchop said, smile growing a little colder. Genuinely loyal to the man or a changer upset at how much their charade was being questioned?

    ¡°They do have the proper paperwork and his Lordship¡¯s seal on them,¡± Arstel added reproachfully. ¡°They are well within their rights to ask for them, Jacob.¡±

    Martel theatrically sighed. ¡°Fine, fine. Let it not be said I¡¯m unhelpful. Sorry gentlemen, for interruptions to the routine nettle me. Follow me. Lord Montague¡¯s record should be at this cabinet.¡±

    They were moving towards the cabinets now, close enough I pulled back completely, relying entirely on sound.

    ¡°Jacob, what in the Queen¡¯s name has happened to your hand? You¡¯ve got cuts all over it!¡±

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    I¡¯d forgotten to put even a bandage over his wounds from when my teeth had nipped his flesh. I tensed up, reaching for power even as Martel answered with only the slightest bit of hesitation.

    ¡°It¡¯s embarrassing to admit, I accidentally caught it between the door and doorframe. I was going to have it looked at, but then you three came in. It¡¯s not a big bother, they are all shallow cuts. His lordship¡¯s files should be here.¡±

    The sound of a drawer being opened, papers rustling, then a grunt of confusion from Martel.

    ¡°His Lordship¡¯s records for this month are missing. Strange, only the head archivist should have permission to remove these from this room.¡±

    ¡°Has he?¡± Muttonchops asked.

    ¡°Well, I haven¡¯t been the only person on duty this week. Or today, for that matter. It¡¯s possible Head Archivist Linden came in earlier to take the record. Why she would want it? I don¡¯t have the foggiest idea.¡±

    ¡°Is there no way to find out swiftly?¡± A new voice interjected sharply. The one with the bald head and the scar.

    ¡°You could find the Head Archivist and ask her directly,¡± Martel suggested. ¡°She might even be able to meet with the both of you rather swiftly. Then again, with these new security protocols, she might be rather busy at the moment.¡±

    ¡°Unfortunate that,¡± Muttonchop said. ¡°It was a pleasure meeting with the two of you, but I think the two of us can handle the rest of this.¡±

    ¡°Oh no, you¡¯d never be able to see the Head Archivist without one of us to escort you.¡±

    That sounded like my cue to step in.

    A quick peek into the arcane. Small owls littered the room, minor spirits of knowledge. A few gashes of red from my near-biting of Martel. Nothing else. Good.

    Well, this seemed the right time.

    Let us see what these two taste of, perhaps?

    Definitely not.

    A snap, a crackle. Flame sprouted across my tainted hand, black and red and setting the surfaces touched by diabolism gleaming.

    Spirits fled, hooting in fear as something split the floor only in the arcane as I stepped forward into the light.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m afraid with Mr. Hawkins in Watch custody, I don¡¯t know any of your names,¡± I said as the two changers whirled, half-changed limbs reverting immediately to their human imitations.

    ¡°Who are you?¡± The elderly woman asked in shock.

    The changers didn¡¯t bother with talking. The muttonchop one swung their arm at me, the limb growing mid-swing till a twenty-foot limb swung at me like a flail.

    I fell to the floor, biting my tongue as I fell. Even falling on the side with the unbroken leg, my wounded limb felt like it had been stabbed. The flail arm passed overhead, the end smashing into cabinets like a mace¡¯s head.

    No time to think. I gestured and flame spat in a line, hitting the bald changer. They¡¯d been swiping at Arstel with a changing arm, the forearm changed to a blade made of bone.

    My flames were faster, a black tarry ball splashing against the side of their head. An inhuman keening filled the air as they flailed, missing the archivist as their flesh burned. The fire didn¡¯t go out, spreading along their clothes.

    Muttonchop¡¯s second arm had formed into a coiled spear that shot forward at me. I rolled, biting my tongue as I rolled over my leg.

    The spear rammed into where I¡¯d laid, splinters of wood flying as it buried itself into the floor.

    I needed to end this quickly. As is they had the mobility advantage, and durability as well. All I had was the element of surprise and that would only buy some much time. The scarred changer still writhed as Hellfire burned flesh and cloth, but that would only last for so long.

    I sent a ball of the substance at Muttonchop, and the upper half of his body bent backwards. In a fraction of a second, he¡¯d completely folded and the ball of fire splashed against the wall instead, setting everything it touched alight.

    ¡°You little guttersnipe!¡± Muttonchop roared. ¡°Why do you have to constantly mess things up for us?¡±

    I¡¯m sorry, I was the one messing things up for them?

    I didn¡¯t answer, instead firing another ball of Hellfire, aiming low this time.

    His arms turned into legs and he scurried away on all fours, body reforming into a more dog-like creature. He ran out of sight, a second fireball chasing him.

    Arstel and Martel were running too, around the still-burning bald changer and out the door. A good thing, since my efforts at nailing Muttonchops had only succeeded in setting a quarter of the room aflame.

    I grabbed a cabinet, pulling myself up so I could get my leg underneath me. It protested every inch of the journey, nerves screaming for me to stop as it dragged across the floor. Hoof and flesh-foot underneath me, I tested my weight on the hoof.

    Fire lanced up from hoof to hip, my vision shaking as I grabbed hold of the cabinet. It was the only thing that stopped me from collapsing as I gasped out, sucking air. The keening from the bald changer had stopped, but it still burned. Its entire surface was covered in fire now, flesh charred under its touch.

    Had Hawkins been the most powerful of them?

    Muttonchop rounded the corner, charging forward. By now his changing turned him into a shaggy grey wolf who came up to my chest, mouth open to reveal dagger-length teeth. He charged forward, howling.

    I called on fire. This close, I couldn¡¯t miss.

    Something rammed into the side of my head, grabbing hold and then wrapping around my neck. My concentration broken, and the forming fire in my palm winked out. I gasped, trying to breathe as Muttonchop finished closing the distance.

    My hand disappeared down its gullet as it took my arm into its mouth. Teeth closed down on my elbow. It pulled back, tearing strips of flesh with it as blood poured down and my pain became agonizing.

    I am not dying here.

    Flames sprouted along my skin as I didn¡¯t even focus on a point, just calling on the flames. Muttonchop whimpered as fire poured out from the inside of his mouth, while the iron grip around my neck loosened.

    I stepped forward on a shattered hoof, the pain but an afterthought as my other hand seized Muttonchop¡¯s wolf neck.

    ¡°Perhaps if you don¡¯t want your plans ruined,¡± I hissed, as flames crept and roasted the flesh and fur. ¡°Don¡¯t mess with the Daughter of a Duke of the Hells, you vermin!¡±

    From the corner of my eyes, the bald changer moved, charred skin turning healthy as the lasso of flesh it had used to choke me retracted. Had it mimicked the visual appearance of Hellfire? The flames shouldn¡¯t have burned out that fast regardless, but it had been a performance that kept me from paying attention to it.

    No matter. It had its own problems to worry about, as the filing cabinets exploded. Papers flew out, most of them joining to form little humanoid figures with tails, horns, and wings. Well, at least that answered what the Diabolism was conjuring on its own from my workings.

    Mockeries of me, apprentice? Your humor is not appreciated.

    I rolled my eyes and drew breath to answer, only to have it driven from my lungs. Muttonchops was changing even as he burned, and a single limb had kicked me in the chest. It felt like someone had taken a hammer to each of my lungs. Wheezing, I tried to keep ahold of his neck, but spikes drove into my hand. I let go, trying to scream with lungs too busy trying to recover from that kick.

    Muttonchop scurried, harried by the paper imps and dodging the flaming parts of the room before ramming the door out. It snapped in half, and he disappeared, followed by his bald comrade and the paper imps. The sounds of gunshots, yells, and a crackling that was probably arcane magic soon followed.

    Wheezing, trying to regain breath, and grasping for a good handhold, I moved the other way. My left hand was a mess, flesh torn loose in strips. My vision shook, and the edges were blurry, and every step felt like a new spike was being rammed into that leg.

    I probably looked a right mess, and who knew how I was going to make it out. But if the two changers hadn¡¯t been able to stop me, what could?

 Chapter 82 - Archive VIII

    I was halfway across the records room, weaving in and out of patches of Hellfire, when I realized something important.

    The list I had was circumstantial evidence that Lord Montague had been researching things the shape-changers desired. The paper he¡¯d given to two of them granting them entry into these Archives? A much more solid piece of evidence.

    I turned my attention to my mangled arm first. No healing potions, but I needed something done to it. Staunch the bleeding, repair those strips of flesh. I grabbed them, gritting my teeth in pain, as I forced everything back inside my arm. Focusing on biosculpting, the skin joined back together. It was a quick, messy fix and I could feel the still loose, torn up flesh moving inside with every motion, sending stabs of pain up my arm.

    It was still better than leaving it hanging out and risking worse. As the flesh joined back together, I could hear the screams and yells from outside. Discharging firearms and smashing wood.

    So, I could rush after the two immediately and join that ongoing melee, or try to escape. Although, had they held onto the paper? Had it even survived? One of them had turned into a wolf and the other has been charred. Had they had the paper before changing? Had they passed it to Martel or Arstel before the fighting had broken out?

    I couldn¡¯t remember, but I didn¡¯t need to go hunting yet. There was technically a second person in here with me, even if they could only see through my eyes.

    ¡°The shape-changers that were here,¡± I said to the Imp. ¡°Did they drop a paper?¡±

    There was silence for a few moments, then it spoke.

    Yes, one of them had a paper it dropped the first time it turned its arm into a weapon.

    A paper imp landed on my shoulder, screeching as it clawed at my upper arm.

    I bit back a yelp of pain. Those talons were made of paper but cut like metal. I batted it away with a flaming hand, paper bursting alight. My arm bled, lines carved into my skin and bleeding.

    Be careful destroying these imposters, The Imp warned me. They may have incorporated the paper into themselves.

    Shite. It was probably right. Which did not bode well since most of them had flown out, harrying the pair of changers.

    Five still flew around here, chittering. They kept their distance as the burnt remnants of their comrade fell to the ground, paper blackened.

    I grabbed a knife and sighed. This would not be pleasant. From the burning, these imps were as weak as paper, but they hit a lot stronger than it. And my arm and leg weren¡¯t in the best of conditions. And any second a changer or guard could burst in here from the melee.

    That meant it was best to do this now. I snapped a finger, and new hellfire shot out, covering the outer edges of the room. There was only one exit, and it funneled towards me. Chittering paper imps dove at me, claws and teeth ready.

    It didn¡¯t last long. Paper shredded as I sliced, going for bisecting cuts that would damage the paper as little as possible. A claw caught me once, twice, thrice, and I gritted my teeth as blood traveled down to where my hand gripped the blade. I cut the last one across its throat, and as it exploded into papers, I saw a familiar seal on one of the falling papers. I snatched it from the air, and the sound of a rapidly ringing bell filled the air. Time to leave.

    ***

    Comets flew overhead constantly, and I ducked against a bookshelf every time. Not the best means to hide, but the only one I had. I could only hope they were searching for the Changers and wouldn¡¯t pay any attention to a solitary figure.

    The ringing alarm continued, never-ending and masking any footsteps around me. I had to believe that they would all be heading to deal with the changers. I might handle some guards, but not non-lethally. The fallout from what I¡¯d done here would be bad enough without adding killing servants of the crown to it.

    I hurried down the bookshelves as fast as I could. Everything ached now, impromptu bandages staunching the flow of blood while muscles shrieked and ached. I¡¯d done my best to retrace my steps, but I couldn¡¯t be sure where I was. In my haste, I almost passed by it, but I found the hole and dove inside.

    ***

    When I emerged on the other side, my forearm hurting from hurriedly healed flesh, Elise Montague hurried over and helped pull me out.

    ¡°Why are you an Infernal again?¡± Elise whispered harshly. ¡°And what did you do? They blocked off access to the second layer entirely and have been guarding every conceivable entrance or exit!¡±

    ¡°Your father blocked off your secret entrance and trapped it,¡± I snapped back. ¡°And that was just the beginning of reality not matching what you told me about that place. You certainly didn¡¯t mention the giant floating sentinel comets.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, the what?¡±

    ¡°Never mind,¡± I muttered. ¡°I have the records of what your father was researching and the paper he gave allowing two shape-changers to come inside here. They are mostly why they sealed off the second layer.¡±

    Elise froze, her expression turned fearful. ¡°You¡¯re sure of that?¡±

    I passed the paper over. ¡°Look it over yourself. You¡¯re probably a better judge of that seal than I am.¡±

    She snatched it from my hands, her eyes hurriedly scanning it before focusing on the seal at the bottom. Her expression fell.

    ¡°Father,¡± she whispered despondently. ¡°What have you done? This is madness. Why would you even risk attaching your name to this?¡±

    Stolen story; please report.

    ¡°Definitely a risk, but if they hadn¡¯t come in while I was getting your father¡¯s records, they would have passed unnoticed,¡± I said. ¡°The only evidence might have been some dead staff members, but they might have left them alive. Or had a plan to frame someone else. Pure-bloods, more Infernals from the quarter, maybe.¡±

    Elise was silent, still staring at the piece of paper in a white-knuckle grip.

    ¡°He¡¯s never-¡± her breath caught, her voice stopping before she started again. ¡°He¡¯s never gone this far. It¡¯s always minor things. Things that aren¡¯t really crimes. This though, this is¡­¡±

    Her voice faltered again, and she stared at the paper. I kept a respectful distance, staying quiet and not moving.

    I knew some of this, how wrong it could feel to stare betrayal from a family member in the face. Mine had just been at a far younger age and had fallen a lot further down. Then again, was it? I¡¯d had my favorite uncle pull me through the streets by my horns before tossing me into exile from the house I¡¯d known all my life. Her father was allying with creatures that days beforehand had almost killed every member of her family.

    After enough time had passed that I felt she¡¯d considered the implications enough and the desire to give her time warred with reality, I clopped back over to where she sat.

    I cleared my throat. ¡°Not to sound insensitive, but we need to get out of here. Preferably without me getting captured by the guards.¡±

    ¡°Right,¡± she muttered, shaking her head slightly. ¡°Why are you an Infernal? I thought the Biosculpting would last longer than this?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s supposed to,¡± I said. ¡°However, it seems your father knows of your secret entrance. I had to rot my way through a bookshelf, and since I didn¡¯t want the run-off causing any chaos, instead it reversed my disguise.¡±

    And might have done a little more than that, but I would not discuss details like that with a near-stranger.

    ¡°They¡¯re going to inspect anyone leaving,¡± Elise said, eyes narrowing as she thought. ¡°Hiding what you are isn¡¯t something that would be easy. You can¡¯t biosculpt back to your disguise?

    I shook my head. ¡°Even if I had the same reference I used when I created it, it would take hours of work to put into place. It took me a whole day to create, and we don¡¯t have that time. How have you kept any curious staff from asking where I am?¡±

    ¡°They haven¡¯t been inside. When you¡¯re the daughter of the man who pays their wages, they respect your wishes a little more. Especially when those wages are so meager to begin with. So they¡¯ve mostly just accepted my word you¡¯re still in here, deep in research.¡±

    That¡­was not very believable, but starting an argument over that wouldn¡¯t help either of us. What mattered was that it wouldn¡¯t look too strange if Petroula Xides reappeared. The issue was making me look like Petroula again.

    ¡°Maybe you could kidnap me?¡± Elise said.

    ¡°I¡­what?¡± Any potential train of thought broken, I looked at the young noblewoman. ¡°Kidnap you?¡±

    ¡°You broke into the archives to abduct me?¡± The young noblewoman suggested, looking at the door. ¡°Came in, killed Petroula, then break out threatening to kill anyone who got in your way?¡±

    What fresh flavor of insanity was this? ¡°And why would I break into here to abduct you?¡±

    Elise looked up at the ceiling, cheeks coloring slightly before lowering her gaze to mine. ¡°Money. Revenge. Perhaps some motivation romantically inclined?¡±

    I coughed lightly, suddenly aware of how I was suddenly treading on very fragile ice. ¡°Not that I don¡¯t dislike the idea, but this seems a rather sudden and dramatic leap to make.¡±

    ¡°It is,¡± Elise admitted. ¡°Do you have a better idea?¡±

    Phrasing it like we should go through with it if I didn¡¯t have an immediate answer did not do my brain any favors for this. Why was Elise Montague trying to draw me into what sounded like a long-harbored fantasy?

    ¡°I can¡¯t biosculpt myself back into Petroula,¡± I said. ¡°I can biosculpt myself to appear¡­well more human, although it will not be a perfect job. The changes will literally be skin-deep. A lot of the more involved alterations would take too long. I think I can do enough of a job to pass casual observation. With the chaos in the other layers, the observation might not stop at casual. We can play it by ear.¡±

    Elise sighed, although whether from dissatisfaction with my plan or that we would not go for the ¡®Malvia kidnaps me for romance¡¯ idea, I did not know.

    ¡°I suppose that is a better idea,¡± she admitted.

    ¡°It is,¡± I said, and as the silence after that statement grew, to relieve the tension, I added to that. ¡°A motivation that is ¡®romantically inclined¡¯?¡±

    Elise groaned, putting her head in her hands. ¡°I don¡¯t have a lot of funds from the family, but I can promise you a few months if you forget I ever said those words.¡±

    I smiled slightly, sitting down next to the noblewoman. ¡°As someone who, as you said, goes into conniptions over the idea of being kissed, I will not judge you over suffering the same affliction. I am a little curious about what brought it on, though?¡±

    She groaned again, trying to shrink in on herself before finally answering.

    ¡°The situation, sneaking around these archives, going on an adventure to uncover some conspiracy, I never imagined I¡¯d be able to take part in something like that,¡± Elise said, before groaning once more. ¡°Oh Tarver, this will sound so stupid. I read, still read, books like that all the time, and living one out¡­I lost myself, okay? There¡¯s always some dashing hero or heroine, sometimes even a bandit or criminal, just waiting to bring th-¡±

    Her voice faltered as she trailed off. I smiled slightly.

    ¡°I read those books too,¡± I admitted. ¡°Although I¡¯m more a fan of the romances, but I get the appeal.¡±

    She returned my smile before suddenly stiffening slightly. ¡°Wait, is that the reason you are on pins and needles with everything involving Gregory all the time?¡±

    My smile vanished and suddenly I wish I was the one disappearing. I¡¯d said too much.

    ¡°It..I¡­¡±

    Elise snorted, trying to restrain laughs as a smile appeared on her face. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, you¡¯ve cast my brother as the dashing stranger in a romance novel where you are the protagonist?¡±

    You know, if she kept talking, we wouldn¡¯t need to disguise me. I¡¯d be shrunken to a tiny height out of embarrassment by the end of this.

    ¡°It¡¯s superb casting,¡± she said, lips quirking. ¡°I can see why you did it. Still, it¡¯s a little hard to reconcile that image with my brother. But it makes things fall more into place. You¡¯ve been trying to arrange scenes with him from the moment you two met, haven¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°I have not!¡± I insisted, cheeks reddening. ¡°You read far too much into what happened.¡±

    ¡°Sure,¡± she replied, the smile turning into a smug grin. ¡°I¡¯ve read far too much into you, deliberately getting him into a corner and practically cheering on the idea of him making out with you.¡±

    ¡°Have mercy,¡± I muttered. ¡°Please, just shoot me.¡±

    She chuckled. ¡°Well, I don¡¯t have a gun, and I¡¯ve never fired one before, so I think that¡¯s a bit out of the question. I tell you what, you don¡¯t tell anyone I suggested you kidnap me and run off into the horizon together, I won¡¯t tell anyone the big bad diabolist is busy trying to get my black sheep of a brother to lock lips with her?¡±

    ¡°Deal,¡± I said hurriedly, before a thought hit me. ¡°Although, if you could put a good word in, perhaps? To your brother? Without making it clear it was from me?¡±

    ¡°Only if you promise to do the same in the future if the chance ever arises,¡± Elise replied.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯ll get much out of that,¡± I admitted. ¡°Diabolist criminal counteracts any good words I could say to someone about you.¡±

    ¡°Still, it¡¯s a fair trade. But we need to get out first. You said you could disguise yourself?¡±

    ¡°To a degree,¡± I said. ¡°I can force the horns somewhere else, force the outermost layer of skin to change color. The rest though¡­.a long skirt will have to serve for the legs. We¡¯ll need to bundle up my tail as well. The fangs¡­.I¡¯ll not open my mouth. The scales will hopefully be hidden by layering on the color. Ear¡­.hair. I prefer wearing it back but forward a little should do. For the nails, hands in the pockets. The rest¡­I¡¯ll think of something. I will need your help with this.¡±

    ¡°I promise not to take advantage,¡± Elise said, face gone solemn.

    That had not been on my mind till now. No matter. I should focus instead on the real issue.

    I could make what adjustments I wanted, but there was no conceivable way this would pass muster against an actual inspection. Time to prepare for when the disguise failed.

 Chapter 83 -Interrogations I

    Half an hour after deciding on this plan with Elise, I became convinced we were heading for disaster.

    The alterations had gone well. At first. Then the staff knocked on the door and told Elise that because of security concerns, the entire first layer would need to be evacuated within half an hour.

    ¡°This will not work,¡± I muttered, looking in the mirror.

    You could see the thickened bone where my horns had been, hurriedly covered up by skin. Skin that was supposed to be the same shade as Petroula, but I¡¯d only managed a few layers so far, so the color looked off.

    Facial structure was¡­.I¡¯d done the best I could but adjusting bones up there was always the trickiest part. I suppose I should be proud of the fact I looked like a member of my mother¡¯s family pretending to be Illtean. Well, outside the coloration which could be explained. If I¡¯d spent most of today in a freezing icy lake before coming here.

    ¡°This will not work,¡± I repeated louder as I stretched my eyelids, looking at the altered eyeball. It didn¡¯t look too bad, as long as no one peered too close at the pupil and spotted the botched alterations there. How had a straight line snuck in there? This happened when you asked an artist to work under pressure.

    ¡°Have more confidence,¡± Elise said with forced cheer. ¡°Just think, its this or we go back to the kidnapping plan.¡±

    ¡°The failings of this one don¡¯t mean we go back to kidnapping,¡± I said. ¡°Just that we need a fresh approach.¡±

    ¡°In about fifteen minutes?¡±

    The time left was a bit of an issue. The guards were only being polite, probably because they assumed Elise would have nothing to do with that pair of Changers, and that she¡¯d still been in here when they came knocking.

    The moment someone¡¯s mind happened across the possibility a third person could have snuck in as a changer shrunken down among what we¡¯d carried inside that politeness would evaporate.

    ¡°I could turn myself in,¡± I suggested. ¡°Give you the papers to take out, say I tricked you, and you can get them to Doctor Dawes.¡±

    Elise shook her head. ¡°No, father would kill you! And that¡¯s if they didn¡¯t just take you to the crown.¡±

    ¡°He wouldn¡¯t kill me straight away,¡± I countered. ¡°There¡¯d be torture first to ferret out what I was doing. And I¡¯m sure your father has nothing I¡¯ve never felt before in that department.¡±

    Not knives to start with. Lord Montague seemed a little squeamish and probably not eager to witness that kind of mess. Not that he¡¯d ever wield a knife himself, but I¡¯d bet on him going for methods that wouldn¡¯t turn his stomach when he came in to see the results. Probably one of those devices or spells invented to just cause pain.

    ¡°That is still horrifying,¡± Elise protested. ¡°We can try the disguise.¡±

    ¡°If we try the disguise and get caught out, you get implicated and we don¡¯t get those papers out at all,¡± I replied. ¡°I can deal with a few hours of discomfort. Your father seems squeamish, so I doubt he¡¯ll do too much that can leave a mark.¡±

    He might not need to do much for marks to appear. Some parts of me didn¡¯t hurt, but a lot of me was hurriedly joined and closed skin over wounds. I¡¯d done the best I could with the time I had, but much like how the coloration changes were barely skin deep, so was my healing of the wounds I¡¯d suffered inside the Archive. Skin hastily joined, the interior left split and probably still bleeding. I¡¯d need a potion, or preferably a few hours, to work over the damage.

    Also, despite our best efforts, the dress still had smudges of dirt and grime and tears from imp claws. So that also was going to give me away pretty quickly.

    ¡°Our backup plan is not you being tortured,¡± Elise snapped. ¡°Listen, what if we-¡±

    There was a harsh rapping on the door. It shook as a sound like the sound of thunder echoed across the room. The hells? Not even the butt of a rifle made that noise.

    ¡°Mistress Elise?¡± A gruff voice barked from the other side. ¡°Are you in there?¡±

    Elise¡¯s eyes widened as she turned to the door. Clearly, she recognized the voice, and it looked like they weren¡¯t supposed to be in there.

    ¡°Mitchell? Why are you here? Shouldn¡¯t you be with Edward?¡±

    ¡°A situation has arisen,¡± the gruff voice said, and as it continued, I could hear the muffled sound of distant shouts and arguing. ¡°Can you open the door? We need to take you to the estate immediately.¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­¡± eyes wide, Elise turned to me and I could only shrug. This might actually be the perfect time to turn myself in.

    The door shuddered, then swung open as nearly two dozen people tried to squeeze through all at once. Somehow they made it past without serious injury to themselves.

    Half of the people shoving themselves inside were in the colors of Lord Montague, including my old friend the human who¡¯d been changed to be like an ogre. I drew back into the bookshelves while Elise tried to say something only to be overwhelmed by the cacophonous sound of multiple voices trying to speak over each other.

    The leader of the Montague guards was a tall man, with brown eyes, rust red sideburns, and bits of grey mixed in.

    ¡°My lady, we need to leave this place now,¡± he hurriedly told Elise and not paying me any mind, thankfully. ¡°Its-¡±

    Whatever was about to be said next was cut off by one of the archive staff yelling at him about how they needed to turn around and head to the entrance now, and soon the entire group dissolved into arguing.

    It at least wasn¡¯t devolving into threats with weapons, and somehow no one was noticing the strange abomination standing awkwardly in the back. I began to quietly inch towards the door.

    Eventually, things grew quieter as Elise demanded someone explain what was going on as I slipped behind the Montague guards.

    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    ¡°Shape-changers attacked the tea party your father was attending,¡± Mitchell told Elise and my breath caught in my throat. ¡°They were disguised as you and your eldest brother. They killed many members of the party before making their escape.¡±

    Elise paled. ¡°Many¡­.are any of my family alright?¡±

    ¡°They all are, although your brother Gregory¡¯s companion was killed,¡± Mitchell said, the mild expression of distaste that passed over his face telling me all I needed to know of his thoughts on that. ¡°Gregory and Henry both suffered minor wounds and are currently recovering at your estate. We¡¯re to bring you there immediately.¡±

    While Elise continued arguing, I retreated inside my own thoughts. Tagashin? Dead? I could only hope trickery had been involved. No matter how infuriating the Kitsune was, she didn¡¯t deserve death.

    ¡°Your father has demanded you be brought to the family estate now,¡± one of them said. ¡°We can be better assured of your protection there.¡±

    That rankled the Archive staff in here with us, who looked on in a distinct lack of amusement.

    I said nothing as I considered how to get out of here. I didn¡¯t want to bring attention to myself, and also my mouth had far too many pointed teeth inside to pass as human.

    ¡°Her ladyship is perfectly safe inside here,¡± one of the Archive guards snapped. ¡°Honestly, the only risk was the chaos you all caused rushing in here!¡±

    Which sounded like an opportunity. I caught Elise¡¯s gaze as I continued inching my way out. I just needed one last distraction, sure to grab all attention.

    She inclined her head ever so slightly, then with her eyes rolling upwards, collapsed onto the ground.

    That drew every eye as it looked like the Archive and Household guards were racing each other to reach the fainted lady, and with a small grin, I snuck out. Sure, there was still the checkpoint, but I would figure something out.

    ***

    I got waved past. I could barely believe it. I stood near the checkpoint, looking at the guard, almost in disbelief.

    ¡°I can go?¡± I asked slowly, and they rolled their eyes and nodded.

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    Hesitantly, I walked forward a few steps, then when no one tried to tackle me or pull a weapon, moved more confidently away from the archive¡¯s entrance.

    Behind me, my enhanced ears picked up a few key remarks about how dumb nobles were being about mixing races and how it was probably going to end poorly for one of them in the future.

    Well, as I hurried along, the quick efforts done to repair my body threatening to come undone any second, I couldn¡¯t disagree with the sentiment.

    The bit after about how Intelligence always gave him the shite jobs like cleaning after Voltar¡¯s gaggle of misfits I could not. Well, that explained some things at least. And given how it would be very unprofessional to reveal something like that, was probably meant for me to hear.

    Something to chew on while I hurried back to Voltar¡¯s house.

    ***

    ¡°-so after the changer stabbed the fake body I¡¯d made of you, I just stayed invisible, helped keep your dear friend alive, and tried to fight them off.¡±

    I nodded numbly, letting some tea take the edge off as the mixture I¡¯d imbibed did its best to keep me together. I¡¯d taken it soon after getting here to find an alive, well, and far too cheerful Tagashin enjoying tea with Doctor Dawes. After letting it seal my wounds shut just a little, I¡¯d come down here to listen to her story of the tea party.

    ¡°They eventually fled once they realized they wouldn¡¯t be able to kill Gregory easily, and soon after that, his father came over to confirm your death. He interrupted a nice little conversation between the two of us doing that.¡±

    ¡°What was the conversation about?¡± I asked, trying to hide my interest in whatever Tagashin and Gregory had chatted about in private. The Kitsune had been frustratingly vague about each one of those conversations.

    From the looks on Dawes¡¯ and Tagashin¡¯s faces, my interest was not particularly well hidden.

    ¡°It was a private conversation,¡± Tagashin said with a grin.

    I wanted to pry, but conceded for now. Pushing wouldn¡¯t gain me anything.

    ¡°So, Lord Montague has decided to handle any inconvenient witnesses,¡± I said, looking down at the first of the two documents I¡¯d brought back with me. ¡°After that I wonder how long till he betrays the shape-changers?¡±

    ¡°Who knows?¡± Dawes said, leaning back in his chair, expression grim. ¡°I¡¯ll need to contact people, and quickly. Killing you and his son might be the limit, but if he decides he needs to remove myself and Voltar from the picture, there are people who must be warned.¡±

    ¡°Take Tagashin with you,¡± I suggested. ¡°If it can wait, I might heal my leg soon, but otherwise find a few more people as well. We can¡¯t move about alone. That¡¯s just begging for the worst to happen.¡±

    Something I¡¯d been guilty of that night of the party.

    ¡°Or you could just send letters,¡± Tagashin said with a yawn. ¡°I¡¯m already pretty tired of fighting these things.¡±

    ¡°Mails too easily intercepted,¡± I said.

    ¡°And some of Voltar¡¯s associates will only listen if it¡¯s him or me in person,¡± Dawes added. ¡°Especially the ones who need to be warned the most. How far do you think Lord Montague¡¯s ambition stretches?¡±

    That was a good and potentially terrifying question.

    ¡°He has a group of shape-changing assassins and a long list of grudges,¡± I said. ¡°He has to deal with the fact the relationship isn¡¯t what I¡¯d call friendly. They will not tolerate being blackmailed with the information they want for too long. I think he realizes that though, I doubt they were just in the Archive to steal his records. So he¡¯s trying to fulfill his end of the bargain, probably because before they were just after his archive access and willing to play the long game. If he tries to double-cross them? He makes them both angry and desperate.¡±

    Mind you, the long-game approach was only a theory for the target the shape-changers had selected. Going after Lord Montague¡¯s heir instead of him probably meant they would wait for the shape-changer who replaced Edward Montague to inherit access to the Archive. But then the raid on the party itself had hardly been what I¡¯d call careful and with the long term in mind. A sunk cost being pursued?

    Moot for now. What was important was what I¡¯d gained from the Archive.

    ¡°There has to be somebody we can show this to,¡± I muttered. ¡°If we have Imperial Intelligence look into this, do you think they could get us the books so we could confirm it? At a minimum, we can show that Lord Montague let a pair of shape-changers into the archive, knowingly or not.¡±

    We both turned to look at Dawes, who was in the middle of scrutinizing said paper.

    ¡°I can send these to my contact,¡± he said. ¡°And see when Voltar will be back. This situation might trump what they¡¯ve sent him to handle.¡±

    ¡°What did they send him to handle?¡± I asked, curious about what was so important it had demanded Voltar¡¯s attention away from shape-changers loose in the Empire¡¯s capital.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know how much I can say,¡± Dawes admitted.

    ¡°Oh, what you are reluctant to do , I will be happy to share,¡± Tagashin said. ¡°Voltar is off handling- hrrk!¡±

    The Kitsune seized up, toppling backwards off her chair as her paws scrambled at her throat as if trying to pry hands off of it. I got up from my chair, uncertain if I even could help. I had no genuine fondness for the Kitsune, but this seemed several steps too far.

    ¡°Please Tagashin,¡± Dawes said tiredly. ¡°Enough theatrics. I¡¯ve temporarily silenced your voice. Nothing more.¡±

    The Kitsune¡¯s scrambling stopped as she pouted at Dawes.

    ¡°It¡¯s a serious concern,¡± Dawes told me. ¡°One that is greater than this? Perhaps not, but no one knew where this case might go when he left.¡±

    ¡°Seems short-sighted,¡± I commented. ¡°Shape-changers aren¡¯t something you should ever let out of your sight. That¡¯s when the problems start.¡±

    ¡°To be fair, Shape-changer was one of a few different theories he was entertaining,¡± Dawes said. ¡°There wasn¡¯t confirmation till the Warehouse after he left.¡±

    Well, that was a little disappointing, but answered an idle curiosity. I had met the Empire¡¯s Greatest Detective, with the trade-off between him and Tagashin occurring before then. Probably right before then, if I had to guess.

    ¡°We have another avenue,¡± I said, getting up. ¡°While you take these to your contacts in Intelligence-¡±

    ¡°I wanted you along for that,¡± Dr. Dawes protested. ¡°You need to meet them at some point.¡±

    That I did, but something else needed to be attended to first. I could not imagine how much I owed for help to get out of that Archive. And anything else they might have been helping with from the shadows.

    ¡°I do, and if you insist I must come, I will. But unless it¡¯s necessary, I think it is time to go talk to Mr. Hawkins.¡±

 Chapter 84 - Interrogations II

    I¡¯d had to wait nearly an hour for the Watch carriage to take me to the Coffin.

    Waiting that long had been an hour of impatience, but going alone was out of the question, so instead I had tapped my foot just inside Voltar¡¯s house till the carriage had arrived.

    A quick exchange of passcodes and a mutual paralyzation of each other later, Captain Malstein welcomed me into the carriage. I settled across from him and two other members of the watch. Both of them had loaded crossbows, currently being aimed at the floor, but I had little doubts about where those bolts might be aimed if I proved¡­difficult.

    The carriage jolted into action, moving across the road.

    ¡°There has to be a better way to test this,¡± Malstein said, massaging the back of his head. ¡°You couldn¡¯t have waited till I was inside the carriage to do that?¡±

    ¡°And you couldn¡¯t have waited till I was off the steps?¡± I countered, tentatively prodding at my leg. ¡°I still haven¡¯t healed this leg, and taking a tumble on it doesn¡¯t help. Besides, you¡¯re the one with the captive shape-changer, if anyone is close to finding a better method it¡¯s you.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m told proper testing takes time,¡± Malstein growled. ¡°As in whenever the people brought to examine him think they¡¯ve found something, they spend entire days testing to their limits to make sure it¡¯s right. Almost to the point of paranoia.¡±

    ¡°Or just being thorough,¡± I replied. ¡°He is healthy then?¡±

    I hadn¡¯t seen Hawkins since rotting him nearly to death. About all I had known is he¡¯d survived that and was still in captivity. Whether my near-murder had left some kind of impact on the changer I had no idea. He might be restricted to that strange humanoid form for all I knew.

    ¡°As far as we can tell, he is healthy,¡± Malstein said. ¡°He¡¯s assumed an appearance close to the one you described him using, and has done minor shapeshiftings. Nothing as major or as dramatic as that worm from the party. Or what we¡¯ve seen some of his fellow changers turn into.¡±

    I drummed my fingers, looking outside at the passing city. ¡°It could be that it¡¯s something they can do rarely. I¡¯ve had some hints on how they may have been created, but nothing concrete so it¡¯s complete speculation, but for some of their changes, they must pull the energy for that from somewhere. And unless they were created with a truly massive reservoir of energy it must be replenished by one method or another.¡±

    There were a variety of ways to replenish that kind of energy, especially if you were not a born mage who could generate it on their own. Most of it involved ambient magic and ran the gamut from simply waiting in places of high energy to sucking it out of other creatures. Vampires used the latter to sustain their unnatural states and the bevy of powers they used.

    ¡°You said ¡®created¡¯¡± Malstein noted. ¡°They are artificial creations of someone else then?¡±

    ¡°Yes, although the details of that should maybe not be repeated out loud,¡± I muttered as I looked at the foot traffic. No one was trying to stay close to the coach, but with the right spell, or modification to one¡¯s self, you could pick up quite a lot. ¡°Not till we are inside the Coffin.¡±

    ¡°A fair point,¡± Malstein said. ¡°You were at the bombings in the Quarter a while ago?¡±

    ¡°I was,¡± I answered hesitantly. ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°I had reports was all. I¡¯d appreciate an account of it after your interview with Hawkins.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll give one, but I didn¡¯t see much,¡± I admitted. ¡°Two Infernals with a cart, an explosion. Another Infernal and I made our way out of the chaos to safety.¡±

    ¡°Still, any point of view would be appreciated. When you saw the Infernals, did-¡±

    ***

    One interview and carriage ride later, I stood waiting outside Hawkins¡¯ cell for the chance to go inside.

    Of course, Malstein wasn¡¯t willing to let me in with his prize prisoner without some ground rules being set, and also knowing what I¡¯d uncovered since last we¡¯d met. That had meant an entire recounting of the adventure in the Archive.

    ¡°-both the papers are with Dawes and Voltar currently,¡± I finished. ¡°They¡¯ll be presenting them to further contacts so hopefully we can finally bring an end to this. And maybe even permission to toss Lord Montague in here as well.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s thin evidence,¡± Malstein observed. ¡°Also thin for trying to get information from that changer. You not having it on hand makes it even thinner.¡±

    ¡°I agree, but it was needed elsewhere,¡± I replied. ¡°Besides, implication enough might rattle something loose. Your own interrogations have turned up nothing?¡±

    ¡°Interrogations have turned up little. However, examinations of the shapechanger have turned up a small wealth of information on how they function.¡±

    Malstein grabbed several sheets of paper, passing them over. Raising an eyebrow, I started reading through the first one.

    Well, for all their talk about Colonel Colgraves no longer being allowed to interrogate prisoners, whoever was running experiments on Hawkins read like a disciple of the torture-happy colonel. They¡¯d been cutting pieces off of him at first, testing to see how long they stayed alive separated from the Shapechanger.

    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    The answer was barely an hour, and only being able to react to outside stimuli. They were unable to act on their own, or at least they thought so.

    More tests, and more attempts to get Hawkins to show the limitations of his powers. The changer flesh itself didn¡¯t appear any different than the usual flesh of whatever he¡¯d changed to, with one exception. It was more conducive to channeling magic. Probably to allow the change to happen faster. There might be something in that for testing people though.

    I could look at these later. I turned my attention back to the iron cell door leading to the chamber where I¡¯d interrogate Hawkins. Solid iron, an inch thick. There¡¯d been close calls with escape attempts from him.

    ¡°Is there anything I can offer him?¡±

    ¡°Only what you¡¯re capable of giving him,¡± Malstein answered flatly.

    I sighed. That wasn¡¯t much and left me bereft of any actual carrot to offer instead of the stick. Still, I couldn¡¯t hold that against Malstein. His prisoner after all.

    I opened the door to the cell, entered, and closed it behind me.

    Gregory Montague looked at me; irons clasped around every bit of his limbs, metal chains leading to the surrounding walls. A metallic breastplate was sealed around him, more chains leading to the walls.

    I averted my eyes, looking down towards the bag I¡¯d carried with me into the room. ¡°Please change back before we talk?¡±

    Hawkins laughed with Gregory¡¯s voice, my mind hating the wrongness of it. ¡°Oh, little Foulhorn, will it really be that-¡±

    I didn¡¯t let him finish, pulling the revolver from my bag, aiming, and pulling the trigger. Hawkins barely had to register before the bullet blew through his ear, ripping cartilage to shreds as it went flying across the interrogation room.

    ¡°Mr. Hawkins,¡± I said, pulling the hammer back on the revolver as the cylinder rotated. ¡°You seem to be mistaken about your situation. Let me rephrase myself. Would you please change to a form more comfortable for the both of us before I¡¯m forced to shoot you again?¡±

    Hawkins-Gregory eyed the barrel of the revolver, blood dripping down his neck from the blown-off ear before the wound closed. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t dare shoot me again, unless you want to risk my death.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s plenty of places to shoot that won''t kill you, Mr Hawkins,¡± I said, taking a step closer and letting the revolver¡¯s barrel move, allowing my aim to travel across his body. ¡°I know you have nerves, and I imagine it takes effort to let them not form inside you, otherwise you¡¯d have done it more often during our encounters. And you¡¯ve exhausted yourself, so you can¡¯t force them away.¡±

    Hawkins¡¯s ear refused to regrow as he considered me, then his form turned waxen, skin changing as he grew a bit, loose irons fitting on him better as he turned into the same Hawkins I¡¯d fought in the warehouse.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± I said cheerily, putting the revolver back on the table. ¡°You see what a little cooperation can get for the both of us?¡±

    ¡°Maniac,¡± he spat at me, eyeing the revolver.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been called worse,¡± I replied. ¡°Tolerated worse, typically from people I either liked or had to tolerate. You are neither, Mr. Hawkins. Mr. Hawkins does work for addressing you, yes?¡±

    He didn¡¯t reply, stealing a glance instead at the gun. Shaking my head, I snapped my fingers and Hellfire blazed into existence inches in front of his face.

    He recoiled backward, nearly topping the chair he was chained to.

    ¡°You can go for it if you want,¡± I told him. ¡°I¡¯ll be faster. And what do you do after shooting me anyway? Back to being cut apart while they try to carve more secrets out of you.¡±

    ¡°As if that won¡¯t keep happening no matter what I do,¡± Hawkins seethed as he leaned forward, ignoring the Hellfire. ¡°I am destined to be a Guinea pig no matter what I choose.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s different levels to that,¡± I told him. ¡°Some cooperation might end up getting you some things you¡¯d only dream of.¡±

    ¡°Speaking from experience?¡± Hawkins snapped. ¡°Tell me, how little did a lowly vermin like you agree to for being the Watch¡¯s pet diabolist on a leash.¡±

    The¡­the Watch¡¯s? Something built up in my chest, heading up my throat and before I could contain it giggles started escaping my mouth. Within seconds they had become a fit of laughter so hard tears were forming in my eyes as Hawkins stared blankly at me.

    ¡°The-the Watch?¡± I got out eventually. ¡°That¡¯s who you think I work for?¡±

    Oh gods, please let this one not be a ringleader of their organization, otherwise their view of this was so skewed. Even if they had no idea of who pulled Voltar¡¯s strings, the idea that I was answering to the Watch was¡­no.

    ¡°No, I don¡¯t work for the Watch,¡± I said. ¡°Mind you, I don¡¯t know if your services would suit my current employers. I mean, your creator made you quite well, but I don¡¯t know if they¡¯d want you.¡±

    ¡°My creator?¡± Hawkins asked, seemingly bemused.

    ¡°Dustin Tarry,¡± I answered. ¡°He was your creator, was he not?¡±

    Hawkins didn¡¯t so much as twitch but the lack of reaction could be a reaction itself.

    ¡°You think you¡¯re very clever, don¡¯t you?¡± He finally said.

    ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± I replied glibly. ¡°I copied someone else¡¯s work on this. Lord Montague¡¯s to be precise.¡±

    ¡°So his Lordship has finally utilized that as his fingertips,¡± Hawkins said with a sneer. ¡°How much did he tell you of us then?¡±

    ¡°None,¡± I said. ¡°I pieced it together from a list of what he¡¯s been reading in the Archives. And saving it mere minutes before two of your fellows destroyed it on his behalf.¡±

    A bit of a guess on my part, but I doubted those two changers had been there to copy it like they¡¯d told Martel.

    Hawkins¡¯ expression did not shift but I took his lack of response as an indication of shock.

    ¡°It seems a little strange, to try and replace a noble¡¯s heir and then work with him,¡± I said. ¡°It makes one think one event followed the other. Possibly one leads directly to the other. Well, I should stop speculating, since I¡¯m quite sure when it took place. How long ago did you choose to replace the actual Lady Karsin?¡±

    Was that a twitch? It had been so brief I couldn¡¯t tell for certain, if it had been only the slightest twinge of a muscle in his face.

    ¡°You think yourself clever, don¡¯t you?¡± He said, leaning forward a little.

    ¡°Not really,¡± I said. ¡°I got lucky and stumbled across a few things. If I was clever I¡¯d have figured out why use me and Versalicci as your scapegoats. I mean, you hadn¡¯t done your research on me, and especially not Versalicci if you thought he¡¯d make an easy person to pawn the blame off on. He¡¯s already found the underground base you''re keeping the celestial in, or the one you''re having the rest of those Purebloods hang around in. He¡¯s very vague about which it is, a bit annoying. Probably waiting on a solution to that Basilisk you''re keeping down there before he finishes off your little operation.¡±

    Hawkins was still for a while, then snorted. ¡°You are making things up. The Watch would never work with the Black Flame.¡±

    ¡°Who said they were?¡± I said. ¡°Versalicci needs my services, he offers me things. Information is one of those things, like when he¡¯s found places full of Pure-Bloods and ripped their souls out because he¡¯s irritated. He could have left me one, but I gues he was feeling greedy.¡±

    Hawkins stared at me in incredulity as I lazily opened my mouth, showing my full array of pointed teeth.

    ¡°I get the sense someone didn¡¯t do the proper amount of research?¡± I asked, and this time the twitch was real.

    ¡°Definitely not,¡± the Changer growled, and my smile grew broader.

    The voice of the aggrieved was one of the most common ones, when your irritation at the failures of others landing you in hot water needed to be let out so you could vent your bile. I¡¯d coaxed it past his mask.

    Time to see what else I might be able to coax.

 Chapter 85 - Interrogations III

    ¡°I can¡¯t really blame whoever was supposed to do research on us for missing that information,¡± I said, leaning forward on my chair, head resting on my hands as I grinned. ¡°We ran quite a game past the Watch and others for years on some of that. I do need to ask around exactly what the reaction was when they found out all of the dirty little details. The ones they did manage to find out, anyway.¡±

    I definitely would not be doing that around Malstein, and the fact he probably was listening in on this was to my detriment, but I had to keep Hawkins talking.

    ¡°The secrecy of vile vermin does not account for a lack of due diligence,¡± Hawkins groused. ¡°They should have known that you practiced foul magics, and about your vile half-brother¡¯s reach.¡±

    ¡°They really should have,¡± I agreed, while inwardly marking that whoever this source was, they knew of mine and Gio¡¯s relationship. ¡°Of course, things slip even the best of minds. Sometimes even by accident. Versalicci been causing trouble for you more and more lately after you tried the frame-up job?¡±

    Hawkins glowered at me. ¡°You claim to have no knowledge of what he¡¯s been doing?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d swear an oath to the effect, but you probably wouldn¡¯t like most of the entities that wouldn¡¯t immediately smite me for invoking them,¡± I said. ¡°But no, I don¡¯t. My number of relatives I have positive feelings for I can count on a single digit.¡±

    And that single relative should be visited soon. One downside to this whole mess, it was delaying a very messy reckoning with my mother¡¯s family over that entire mess. At least as long as I was useful to Imperial Intelligence, I wouldn¡¯t have to worry about them gaining sole custody or having it reduced to just them and the Crown.

    ¡°The poor foulhorn, all alone with no family or friends,¡± Hawkins mocked. ¡°Should I shed a tear for the one not in physical chains?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I said. ¡°I might not have friends, but people around me have kept me out of chains so far. Why do you think your¡­friends, family, whatever you call your little group, what makes you think they will come free you? It¡¯s been a week. No efforts have been made. Instead, they¡¯ve been running around doing the bidding of the man whose son you were out to replace. Much more openly than before as well. Unless it¡¯s normal for two of you to start massacring an outdoor noble tea party?¡±

    Another twitch. ¡°You jest.¡±

    ¡°Cross my heart, stab it in deep to make sure the Infernal eternally sleeps,¡± I said. ¡°Two of them, disguised as Montague¡¯s children arriving late, murdered another bunch of nobles. Oh, and me, he thinks. He probably knows I¡¯m alive since I was stealing his records from the archives at the same time when another two of you tried destroying them. They got a little charred for their efforts.¡±

    He stood still, probably sorting through that timeline in his head. While he did, I continued my talking.

    ¡°Honestly, you almost got away with it all, the way I figure it,¡± I said. ¡°You just had the worst possible luck. Your flunkies failed to kill Golvar, he happens to stumble upon me, linking the two parts of your plan far before what was expected, right? Originally I imagine he dies, the Watch find the body with the Angel¡¯s Sorrow on it just in time for you to spring your trap on the Black Flame alchemist you¡¯ve picked out to be the ¡®poisoner¡¯. You send someone to my lab to retrieve the cures, although why I¡¯ve never quite figured out-¡±

    Hawkins growled, cutting me off.

    ¡°That was a waste of time in pursuit of uselessness,¡± he said, a deepening frown on his face.

    ¡°Right, that was probably you. I forgot that was my first encounter with silver threads. Must cost you a fortune at the tailor every time you need to rip them. But either way, don¡¯t feel too bad about that little encounter. Neither of us knew the true measure of each other back then.¡±

    ¡°Not what I referred to, but your surviving only happened because we need you alive,¡± Hawkins said. ¡°Otherwise I would have ended your life as easily as snuffing out the burning wick of a candle.¡±

    Bold words for one who was now in chains because of me, but I wouldn¡¯t say that out loud. It seemed he was in the mood for complaining.

    ¡°It was idiocy, the pursuit of coin, and minor one at that compared to the grand prize,¡± Hawkins complained. ¡°All it did was nettle your more and lead to even more headaches down the line.¡±

    Hrrm, not as many as he might think, but still, this did tell me a few things. First, a little dissent among the shapechangers themselves, if Hawkins had disagreed, but more importantly he was not near the top of the ladder of the group.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I said. ¡°Money is something that is always useful when you need it.¡±

    ¡°It is,¡± Hawkins replied stiffly.

    Probably more than able to afford most things. I doubted they¡¯d spent the centuries since Tarry¡¯s creation of them simply twiddling their thumbs.

    ¡°I suppose one thing trumps that for you though. Your creator¡¯s notes. Were you after how to create more of you? How to fix some flaw he added as a safety measure? Some metaphorical shackle he¡¯s placed on you?¡±

    Hawkins remained silent, expression closing up.

    ¡°He is just going to string your people along,¡± I said. ¡°Used up for his own purposes. Even if he gave the book to your people now, would they have time to escape? He¡¯s made them abandon all traces of subtlety, and attention is death for those who survive in the shadows.¡±

    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    Hawkin¡¯s closed his eyes, breathed a few times, then reopened them to stare at me.

    ¡°What do you want Foulhorn?¡±

    ¡°This over,¡± I said flatly. ¡°You think you¡¯re angry? I was just trying to live a life out of messes like this, just the humble little black market alchemist in the Quarter. No Diabolism, no throat-slitting, no having to get stabbed through the torso. You decided to drag me into this.¡±

    ¡°You were happy to try and make money off of it,¡± Hawkins said.

    I rolled my eyes. ¡°Oh yes, the crime of spotting an opportunity and taking advantage of it. Surely something the average citizen would be innocent of. I am guilty of being a moron, for not seeing the timing connection and immediately assuming I was being played. Thank you for demonstrating how much my edge has dulled over the years. My moral failings aside, what do you want now Hawkins?¡±

    ¡°Out of this cell,¡± he said firmly. ¡°Then you and everyone who has messed this up dead. And then maybe our creator¡¯s notes in my hand.¡±

    I whistled. ¡°Tall order. I could maybe get you one of the three, and it would probably require me publicly assaulting a noble of the realm. Pass. Aim lower. Let¡¯s both. I¡¯ve got a question.¡±

    ¡°You are not likely to get an answer,¡± he deadpanned.

    ¡°No, no,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s not something that¡¯ll betray your fellow changers or anything like that. Why the basilisk? It¡¯s not like you can¡¯t guard that area yourselves.¡±

    Hawkins was silent for a moment. ¡°This is what you wish to know?¡±

    ¡°Idle curiosity,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll give you a similar question in return.¡±

    He sighed. ¡°We cannot imitate the specifics of some creature¡¯s abilities. The petrification gaze of a basilisk, which eliminates many methods of questioning the dead after their passing, was desired but we could not mimic it on our own. We can also remove our eyes, lessening the danger of using them as a guard animal. But you would not believe the cost required to acquire it.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I could believe it,¡± I muttered. ¡°I¡¯ve tried to acquire ingredients related to one, the actual creature itself would probably be ruinous.¡±

    What I couldn¡¯t believe was the reason. There were other methods. There was one reason to keep a monster down there, they didn¡¯t have enough changers to keep one on permanent guard duty. With all the changers at the party, what portion of their numbers was that?

    ¡°My question. Your skin on your arm, that does not look like biosculpting?¡±

    Ah. I held up my forearms, looking at the small streaks of crimson on blue. ¡°You¡¯ve got a good eye. It is not. Diabolism in my flesh, a payment for infesting my body with more of its taint.¡±

    Hawkins snorted. ¡°Well, that we can agree on. Foulhorn you are named correctly. You wish to trade again?¡±

    ¡°Certainly. The dozen changers disguised as musicians, what were they supposed to do?¡±

    Hawkins frowned. Hrrm, had he not expected me to notice them? Perhaps their exit had been originally planned to be less obvious.

    ¡°Interfere if our efforts were noticed. They did not fulfill their part of the job.¡±

    I grinned. ¡°Must have been after the deal with Lord Montague. Sorry, but it sounds like you got abandoned.¡±

    That got a look of utter disgust from him as he pondered his question. ¡°Is Alice Skall real?¡±

    I chuckled. ¡°Yes, she¡¯s real. Dead though. Fellow diabolist, we used to date. Where did that come from?¡±

    ¡°One of our number wondered after it became clear Voltar and you were working together. They have something of a fascination with the Black Flame.¡±

    ¡°Not a very in-depth fascination to have missed so much,¡± I noted sardonically. ¡°Tell you what, if you ever talk to her again, ask her if she wants to meet their leader? Giovanni Versalicci himself. I¡¯ll bring him, the three of you can share a cell together?¡±

    His lips formed a small smile. ¡°Maybe I¡¯ll ask when I get out of here?¡±

    ¡°Will you?¡± I asked. ¡°It¡¯s been a week. Abilities like yours, I think they¡¯d had broken you out by now. If they cared.¡±

    I didn¡¯t wait for a response before leaving the room.

    ***

    ¡°You didn¡¯t get much out of him,¡± Malstein noted.

    ¡°I got something,¡± I said. ¡°Which is enough for now. Letting him stew for a while before having another go is the better method anyway. We need results fast but letting him guess we¡¯re the ones low on time will just make him hold out. Best to make him think he¡¯s on his own, rotting in here while what truly matters goes on outside the world. I doubt his persona is entirely acting, he¡¯s got quite the oversized ego.¡±

    ¡°Do you think he believes you about being abandoned?¡± Malstein asked me.

    ¡°I think the thought was already occurring to him,¡± I said. ¡°Festering. I just gave it a little touch and made it fully start eating at his brain. Gio used to love that trick, having anyone who came along to try and rescue them imprisoned just a room over. Made it so those who came later could see but couldn¡¯t warn the ones they¡¯d come to rescue. The ego again as well, he probably thinks they¡¯d have made an attempt by now given his opinion of himself.¡±

    ¡°Gio?¡±

    My thoughts froze. I¡­when had I started using that name again?

    ¡°Versalicci,¡± I said firmly. ¡°Anyway, while he¡¯s stewing, we have a few other leads. One much easier to touch than the other. Unless you can get me a warrant for a certain noble?¡±

    Malstein snorted. ¡°Even if you had those two pieces of paper my superiors would never approve of that. As low ranking as he is, publicly arresting or searching the estate of a man attacked twice, thrice if we count the initial poisoning of his heir. No one is going to risk their career on that. Now if more evidence were uncovered, perhaps that would change?¡±

    I smiled slightly. ¡°Maybe once my leg is healed, until then I¡¯m not trying any more sneaking about. Especially not with that spirit he has bound to his statue. That¡¯s probably where at least one shapechanger went.¡±

    ¡°Not making a deal with him along with your new chief suspect, Lady Karsin?¡±

    Right, that. That had been thrown out as bait and I still wasn¡¯t sure on it.

    ¡°I doubt it. Two in the chimney, so they were in the middle of escaping. Knowing Lord Montague, he might had had the second changer killed by his spirit. Display of dominance, to whoever I presume he was negotiating with, which may have been Lady Karsin. I haven¡¯t determined if she¡¯s one or not.¡±

    Malstein sighed. ¡°Too many holes in that. Far too many.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m aware. So time to start filling them in based on what we do know. And since Lord Montague is out as an option, that leaves the Pure Bloods underground.¡±

    ¡°Hrrm, not the place where the poison is made?¡± Malstein asked me.

    ¡°Not without an entire team of Delvers. An entire guild. And as many Watch as you can spare. It¡¯s a basilisk, plus however many Changers are lurking around down there. Honestly I¡¯d rather take my chances with the statue-spirit. Besides, I¡¯m less confident about how much we can narrow down that location instead of wherever they¡¯re keeping the Pure Bloods.¡±

    ¡°If they are still alive,¡± Malstein said.

    ¡°If they are still alive,¡± I agreed. ¡°All the more reason to head down there as soon as we can.¡±

    The Pure Bloods were at this point just a loose end for the Changers, which meant their lives were probably soon to end. Especially if Lord Montague was calling the shots.

    ¡°How many Watch could you bring?¡±

    Malstein smirked. ¡°Now that we are no longer talking about raiding a noble, I did bring them a nice juicy prisoner that reflects well on our organization. Minus your hogging of the glory. If you hog a little less, the answer is less how many I could bring and how many do you want?¡±

 Chapter 86 - Interrogations IV

    This wasn¡¯t going to be subtle.

    Watchmen marched down a tunnel, the sound of dozens of boots on stonework cacophonous to the point I¡¯d covered my still-enhanced ears. They¡¯d broken out armor for this, breastplates shining as they trod through the narrow tunnels, barely able to fit two across. Rifles had been traded for pistols and swords for the close-quarters the tunnels would force on them.

    It made for a cramped passage and a worse racket as they walked. I¡¯d have gone in more subtly, but I wasn¡¯t in charge here.

    I kept back, mostly an observer for this one. My position in the formal hierarchy in the Watch could best be described as a ¡®tolerated person we are no longer allowed to touch¡¯. I was here at Malstein¡¯s invitation, and I was only too aware of how much the Watch Captain tolerated my presence as a means to an end.

    I took some petty pleasure in the fact he¡¯d seemed happier to have me alone than one of the others with us. Tagashin, in full Voltar disguise, was singing a merry discordant song whose tune she had to be mangling on purpose. She increased the volume every time Doctor Dawes winced next to her, and he seemed to be on the verge of asking me for something to cover his ears.

    I had some, and it would be sufficient payment for having asked him to be between Tagashin and me. That was a punishment without any real crime causing it.

    ¡°Are we close?¡± Doctor Dawes asked Malstein ahead of us, voice raised to try and drown out Tagashin¡¯s singing.

    ¡°Close,¡± Malstein yelled back, having wisely stuck us, more specifically Tagashin, a good thirty feet behind the main body of Watch. ¡°We should be in a position to take the second entrance as well by now, and they should have no route to escape from.¡±

    Should was the operative word, hoping that the occupants were still alive. Depended on how long the Changer had decided they needed them alive.

    I eyed the ceiling, where crafted stone occasionally dripped water onto the floor below. Dwarf work was very fine, but there were still cracks and places for leaks to occur. And that was probably from the cistern, which from what I¡¯d read was a miracle of dwarven engineering. Like all feats of dwarven engineering were, impossibilities for everyone else up until recently when the explosion of steam and arcane mechanics had begun to match them.

    Since the dwarves left, how long since these tunnels had been maintained properly? We hadn¡¯t had time before coming down here.

    It hadn¡¯t been as simple as heading straight into the underground of course. There¡¯d been talks with the Delver¡¯s Guild, about the locations of monster types that produced Sulfuric Acid naturally. They¡¯d given us six back, and four were patrolled far too regularly by Delvers for the gang to be in that area.

    That left two, both of which had their own reasons for being good spots. The one we were checking first was deep underground, nestled underneath an old dwarven cistern repurposed for use by the city. There was only one place large enough to host a large group down here, which was better than the potentially dozens of places in the abandoned dwarven town of Kreshern we¡¯d head to next. It had been a long trek, nearly four hours underground through winding tunnels, halting to deal with the occasional creature roaming about.

    Most knew to stay away from groups this large, and a volley of pistol fire had sufficed to drive off the rest. More warnings to our enemies. Did Malstein have some trick?

    Ah, he was talking to one of the mages he¡¯d brought along. I hadn¡¯t talked to either, although overheard conversation had indicated one was a hydrologist. Smart move given the cistern. Then what was the other-?

    An ear-splitting shriek suddenly echoed across the tunnels. My hands immediately clamped over the clothes covering my ears.

    Sound mage. Well, that was one method of suppressing an enemy you would never catch off-guard.

    Several Watch rushed in, barking orders to drop weapons and surrender. Those stopped almost immediately, no other sounds following till three members of the Watch rushed back out and proceeded to empty their stomachs on the tunnel floor.

    It didn¡¯t take long for the smell to travel the tunnel¡¯s length to us. The stench of death made my stomach churn a little but I forced it calm. Damnations.

    Malstein moved forward, muttering angrily to himself. Probably reaching the same conclusion I had. We¡¯d been too late in getting here.

    More Watch funneled out, one moving to Malstein while using a hand on the wall to steady themselves.

    ¡°It¡¯s a fucking mess in there, sir,¡± he whispered to Malstein, not low enough for me to miss even with the sounds of boot on stone as the remaining Watch moved to help their comrades. ¡°If someone¡¯s alive, they¡¯re not going to be much longer.¡±

    I limped past, the pain in my leg a constant dull ache as I moved past the milling Watch. Malstein was ordering them forward but said nothing to me as I reached the door.

    This had started out as a storage room, barrels of water and dwarven spirits found when Her Majesty decided that she wanted the underground. Those had all been removed, and you could see the beds, tables, even an arcane stove and other amenities that had been added when the Pure Bloods made it a base.

    Now it was an abattoir that put my devouring of the cows to shame.

    It was hard to tell when one body began and another ended, not just because so many littered the ground but because they¡¯d been so thoroughly torn apart. Scattered limbs, heads, and corpse parts even smaller were spread across the floor, a small pool of blood an inch deep spanning the entire room. A hundred feet by a hundred, and still it was impossible to find a spot where there wasn¡¯t a piece of someone on the floor.

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    I put a handkerchief to my nose to block the smell as I stepped inside, carefully keeping my hooves away from the body parts. Experience had taught me that getting a bone or chunk of flesh wedged in there could take hours to get pried out.

    ¡°Probably more than one attacked,¡± I said, raising my voice so the handkerchief wouldn¡¯t muffle it too badly. ¡°Otherwise I imagine some would have made it past the door.¡±

    That or the changer had cleaned up afterward, but there would be no purpose to that.

    ¡°Poor bastards didn¡¯t have a chance,¡± Malstein noted, while Dawes turned his attention clinically to a severed arm close by the door. ¡°Hard to tell from how strewn about the pieces are but they look like they were standing in clusters, except for the groups in the middle. Changers probably started at the doors and worked their way inwards.¡±

    ¡°Radius and Ulna bones have been severed cleanly,¡± Dawes noted as he examined the severed arm. ¡°Flesh has been sheared through as well. I¡¯ll need more time to examine it, but that¡¯s a very fine blade moving with a lot of force to cut like that. Not at all as I¡¯d expect from those bone weapons Changers have formed in the past.¡±

    I frowned. ¡°They did have a cache that included weapons in the warehouse. Could be they decided to use some of those.¡±

    ¡°Or perhaps someone else was responsible for this massacre,¡± Tagashin said in a faux-dramatic tone I was picking up on as her default for Voltar now that her glamour had worn off. ¡°Perhaps the Black Flame?¡±

    And now every eye in the room was focused on me. Oh joys

    ¡°Doubtful,¡± I answered. ¡°Unless he¡¯s upgraded the quality of his muscle, or figured out how to hide the signs of diabolism, no one Versalicci knows could have done this.¡±

    Summoned devils could have maybe done this, but there was no smell of sulfur or taint on the astral. A glance there showed crossing patterns of blood formed into giant webs. This place would have to be purged before some greater spirits of violence started forming out of the massacre, but no signs of diabolism. I limped over to the wall, beginning to tap along the sides as I walked the perimeter.

    ¡°Noticed something?¡± Malstein said as I cleared a wall, turning to start the second.

    ¡°Some things you always pick up if you live long enough in the gangs,¡± I said, tapping gently on the wall. ¡°One of them is if you¡¯re ever given something, always make sure it¡¯s not a trap. If that thing is a location, the first thing you do is make it yours.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s solid brick,¡± Malstein noted.

    ¡°So you get creative,¡± I said. ¡°Never trust a location till you¡¯ve made it yours. You can never tell when it¡¯s just a trap meant to be sprung later.¡±

    Doctor Dawes cleared his throat. ¡°I hope that doesn¡¯t mean you¡¯ve done anything to your room.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve done plenty there,¡± I muttered as I felt some more of the wall, testing each brick. ¡°I¡¯m hardly going to say what any of it was.¡±

    In truth, there were three different mixtures just waiting in my lab, seemingly in-progress potions that if I was ever in a pinch, I could tip over or smash to unleash one of three plagues on Voltar and Dawes¡¯ property. Fire, poison, and bees. Perhaps the insect-attracting pheromones weren¡¯t the best idea but I was still working on something that could carry diabolic rot in it.

    Malstein was right, these walls were quite solid brickwork, but when you could not go to the sides, go up or down. And up was several thousand gallons of water threatening to pour through with the slightest mistake. That left down.

    ¡°If it¡¯s not in here, they might have made a secure little cubby off in the tunnels,¡± I mused as I eyed the stonework. Best not to do the same trick I¡¯d done in the warehouse, I doubted the assorted Watch would appreciate me spreading diabolism around.

    I looked at the blood-covered floor, looking for where the blood flowed. Watch members were setting about the grisly work of collecting the shredded and torn-apart corpses, most of them seeming on the verge of being violently ill. Quite a few weren¡¯t even stepping inside.

    Eventually, I found a spot where the blood was draining, and feeling with my finger I felt a gap that the blood was pouring through.

    ¡°I have something, but the blood has to be filling it up,¡± I said. ¡°Can we get this cleaned out of here?¡±

    It took longer than I¡¯d liked, and the hydrologist seemed quite unhappy about the amount of human ichor that had spilled on her in the process, but it exposed the floor below. Including a quarter-inch thick line separating two of the bricks.

    ¡°Here,¡± I said. ¡°Can someone get me a hook? A knife? Something to pry this out?¡±

    Within a minute I had a dozen tools, only two of which actually helped in prying up the brick. It came out easily enough, but this wasn¡¯t an escape route. They must not had had time to make one. No, this was a hiding spot.

    I pried out more bricks and some of the Watch helped as the hole widened, exposing the next layer. Underneath was wood, and underneath that was the sound of panicked breathing coming up from down below.

    ¡°There¡¯s someone down here,¡± I said. ¡°Probably not a Pure Blood if they were going to be sealed in there.¡±

    ¡°Definitely not,¡± Malstein said, gesturing to a Watch member with a hammer. ¡°Whoever is down there, this is the City Watch! Please stand still, and call out if any blows against the wood above might hurt you?¡±

    There was no reply, but the breathing slowed a little.

    ¡°She¡¯s calming down a bit,¡± I said. ¡°You need a hand?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s only wood,¡± Malstein said and raised the hammer.

    ¡°Stop!¡±

    Faux-Voltar¡¯s voice rang out. Malstein barely stopped in time, the interruption slowing but not stopping the swing of the hammer. It fell from his grip, and I reached out, grabbing it by the head.

    ¡°Ghrrk!¡± The damned thing was heavy. Malstein managed to snatch the end of the handle, pulling it back just before the hammerhead drove my hand into the wood planks.

    ¡°Detective?¡± he asked Tagashin while I winced and examined my hand. Nothing had broken, thankfully.

    ¡°The third board from the top,¡± Tagashin said. ¡°It bends slightly in the middle, almost as if there¡¯s more weight on it than the others.¡±

    Looking at it, it did, a tiny, almost imperceptible bend. I had no idea how the Kitsune had spotted that, or if she¡¯d detected it some other way and sized on the board¡¯s bend to preserve her disguise.

    ¡°Might not be a trap,¡± Malstein noted, eyeing the board. ¡°Probably best not to risk it. Explosive of some kind?¡±

    ¡°Probably,¡± I answered, rubbing my hand with the other as I moved back from the hole. ¡°We could tunnel around it. Did anyone bother to bring a pick?¡±

    ***

    Someone had bothered to bring a pick, several in fact, and they were traded frequently as breastplates were taken off and people traded shifts on the mining. Apparently, when the Watch wore breastplates they wore uniforms that were much thinner and more form-fitting, which I wouldn¡¯t complain about in the slightest.

    My broken leg meant I couldn¡¯t help, so instead I stood by the hole they¡¯d dug watching, bemoaning the fact I was not helping. Definitely that and nothing else.

    ¡°You may want to close your mouth some,¡± Tagashin whispered to me.

    It was one panicked attempt to shut my mouth later that I realized it was already shut and glared at the kitsune. They were almost through down there, and I moved over to the wooden boards as they broke through.

    ¡°There¡¯s an Infernal in here!¡± one of them yelled. ¡°Chests, papers, some blood that''s fallen through. Nothing got damaged. Can you speak?¡±

    A barking cough was the answer, and then a raspy voice asking for water. My ears perked up. Raspy thought it was, I recognized it immediately.

    So, this is where Kalasyp has ended up. It would be interesting to hear exactly how.

 Chapter 87 - Interrogations V

    It took quite a bit of time to get Kalasyp out of the tomb he¡¯d been placed in. It had proved too risky to take him through the tunnel we¡¯d dug, so we needed to remove the planks. I¡¯d gone under, skinned my leg, and hit my broken one hard enough I think something had broken again.

    After ten minutes of lying on the ground focusing on not crying, I made it over to the planks.

    It had been such a simple explosive I¡¯d been tempted to start yelling at Malstein for sending me down here to disarm it but decided against it. A rope that if yanked would pull a trigger, with the old flint-lock firing mechanism igniting the bundle of powder.

    I¡¯d broken it with contemptuous ease, then waited along with Kalasyp for the wood to be broken and then for the two of us to be dragged up. Kalasyp wasn¡¯t happy, probably because he¡¯d seen my Black Flame tattoo and my face and put two and two together, and I wasn¡¯t happy because my leg was throbbing and I¡¯d ruined another set of clothes by wading through ankle-deep blood.

    At least the papers stored with Kalasyp had been on a table, well above that blood. I hadn¡¯t looked since I was hardly in charge here.

    Eventually, we got up there and while they looked over Kalasyp and fed him and made sure he was okay, I brewed a pot of tea, enough for everyone and of course three cups reserved for myself. Just enough to keep me sated.

    After a while, things were arranged to start asking questions of the rescued prisoner.

    I passed Kalasyp a cup of hot tea and after a moment of hesitation, he accepted it, sipping at the drink.

    We were arranged in a semi-circle around him, Malstein, Dawes, Tagashin, myself, and a few of the more senior Watch members that had been dragged along. The hydrologist was there, grumpily having some tea herself after having to clear all the blood out of Kalasyp¡¯s tomb.

    ¡°Who are you?¡± Kalasyp asked, eyes glancing between me and Tagashin¡¯s Voltar disguise.

    He knew both of us. You could see it in his eyes, he just hoped he was wrong on both counts.

    Malstein cleared his throat. ¡°I am Captain Malstein of the City Watch, Mr. Kalasyp. If you could please tell us-¡±

    ¡°Who are they?¡± Kalasyp demanded, thrusting his cup of tea at us and sending half of it to the ground.

    I¡¯m quite sure my eyebrow twitched. Stop wasting my tea! Twice he¡¯d done that now!

    Malstein sighed, turning to look at the two of us. I gave Kalasyp a polite smile.

    ¡°Malvia Harrow,¡± I said politely, then sipped my own cup of tea. Properly, not spilling half of it on the floor.

    ¡°Voltar, empire¡¯s greatest detective and all that,¡± Tagashin said casually.

    One of these days I needed to measure how much glamour she was using daily. To keep people thinking that was Voltar, it must be quite a lot.

    Kalasyp shivered. ¡°The City Watch, Voltar, and a Black Flame lieutenant. Feels like the start of a bad joke.¡±

    ¡°Former member,¡± I said. ¡°I do not work with Versalicci.¡±

    Kalasyp stared at me, unconvinced. ¡°I am certain you don¡¯t. Where am I?¡±

    ¡°You are in a hideout of a human supremacy gang known as the Pure Bloods Mr. Kalasyp,¡±

    Malstein said. ¡°And we are all very interested in what you are doing down here.¡±

    Kalasyp shivered. ¡°How do you know my name?¡±

    ¡°I know who you are,¡± I answered. ¡°We¡¯ve met a few times.¡±

    Another deeper shiver. ¡°I don¡¯t remember any of those times,¡± he said hoarsely, looking like he wanted to escape this conversation.

    Dawes and Malstein both sent me warning glances. Fine, I would ease up on the alchemist, I didn¡¯t bear him any ill will.

    ¡°Any kind of magic user picks up a notice in the quarter Mr. Kalasyp,¡± I said. ¡°If it¡¯s any consolation, the Black Flame has no particular interest in you.¡±

    Yet. Depending on how much Kalasyp was involved in this entire mess, Gi-Versalicci might want his head on a pike.

    ¡°It¡¯s not,¡± Kalasyp said. ¡°I was here because I was kidnapped on my way home and dragged down here.¡±

    Oh? That might be the truth, that might be covering for what I suspected the truth was. Which is that he¡¯d been offered a job by the Changers, taken it while giving his work to me, and ended up way over his head.

    Still, I wouldn¡¯t spoil that.

    ¡°The Purebloods kidnapped you?¡± Malstein asked. ¡°From where and when?¡±

    Kalasyp steadied a little, voice growing firmer. ¡°I was on my way home from meeting a colleague about sharing some work. I¡¯d taken on a few too many clients-¡±

    ¡°Clients for what precisely?¡± Tagashin interjected.

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    That threw him off for a second. Did she know about him providing alchemicals for the Black Flame? Oh, now his worry about me being Flame made sense, he was worried Giovanni had sent someone after him for the lack of goods over the last few weeks.

    ¡°Alchemicals,¡± he said carefully. ¡°I have a license at my home if it needs to be inspected.¡±

    A forged license, but one that would be overlooked if the owner hadn¡¯t done anything egregious.

    Malstein cleared his throat. ¡°Voltar, that is less important than the immediate matter at hand. Mr. Kalasyp, were you abducted by the Pure Bloods or someone else?¡±

    ¡°A pair of men, although I only saw one. Human, well-spoken, top hat, a cane he used to club me. His clothes were very fine. I thought I must have wandered into the wrong district before they attacked me in an alleyway.¡±

    ¡°Any witnesses to this assault Mr. Kalasyp?¡± Tagashin said.

    ¡°None,¡± Kalasyp hurriedly said while I rolled my eyes.

    It was the Infernal Quarter. The chances of no one being around to notice a crime occurring in broad daylight were next to zero. The chance of them caring enough to intervene was an entirely different question.

    ¡°Mr. Voltar, please,¡± Malstein said, glaring at Tagashin. ¡°You can question him later to your heart''s content, please stop interrupting the two of us!¡±

    Kalasyp seemed to already be dreading that possibility, while Tagashin gave Malstein a far too wide grin.

    ¡°Of course Captain, my apologies.¡±

    ¡°They dragged me underground,¡± Kalasyp continued. ¡°I don¡¯t know how far, only that we walked for what felt like hours. At one point they put a blindfold on me, and there was this thing there. I could hear it straining against chains when they dragged me past it, its breath reeked of decaying meat.¡±

    The basilisk. They had a method of controlling it then if it was chained up. I doubted the Delver Guilds would have lost so many to a stationary one.

    ¡°They took my past it, into a room. It wasn¡¯t large, maybe slightly bigger than a closet. I slept there, lived there. They gave me food and water, enough to keep me going, but I was locked in each night. I could hear the creature roaring the first few nights then it stopped. I could still hear it, but only occasionally. That¡¯s when they dragged me to the lab, and they showed me the ingredients. They wanted me to make Angel¡¯s Sorrow.¡±

    Interesting. They clearly had the poison before then, so why had they needed another alchemist?

    ¡°Were you the first alchemist they brought in to work on it?¡± I said, drawing everyone¡¯s eyes.

    ¡°No,¡± Kalasyp said. ¡°I didn¡¯t even know how the make the poison, they had me work off of his, or I guess maybe her, notes to make it. I never saw where they got the parts, but they were¡­.fresh. Still bleeding. Very dangerous to handle.¡±

    I nodded. Celestial body parts, even separated from the celestial creature would be painful to touch for us.

    ¡°They said the other alchemist had died, and I would be paid well,¡± Kalasyp said. ¡°It became clear very quickly I would not. You don¡¯t just have someone make Angel¡¯s Sorrow and let them go away, let alone with a fat sack of coin. I tried to escape¡­I did not make it far. Eventually, I finished the doses they asked for, and they took me away. I thought they were going to feed me to that thing, but instead, they gave me to the Pure-Bloods. It was implied I was some kind of reward for them? In that killing me was supposed to make up for something?¡±

    I raised an eyebrow at that. That was a strange way of phrasing it.

    ¡°They stripped me, looking for something,¡± Kalasyp muttered, looking at his tea. ¡°I think they were looking for a Black Flame tattoo, and they started using tools to make sure they could see every inch of my skin.¡±

    I winced. That must have been painful. And did answer why Kalasyp would be a reward. If he¡¯d been given to the Pure-Bloods as a supposed Black Flame member after Gio had killed several of their numbers, expecting them to tear Kalasyp apart¡­.well it wasn¡¯t the best method of disposing of him but if they needed to assuage their catspaws, better an alchemist they no longer needed.

    ¡°After that, they muttered I was lucky and that maybe I¡¯d get a chance to testify their innocence in this entire mess soon,¡± Kalasyp continued. ¡°Then they sealed me in there with some food and water and left me there. I slowly faded, only waking up when they all started screaming and the blood started pouring in.¡±

    ¡°Around how long ago?¡± Malstein asked. ¡°Before you heard us breaking in?¡±

    Good question. Not much blood had poured in by the time we¡¯d entered.

    ¡°A few hours, maybe longer?¡± Kalasyp said uncertainly. ¡°It¡¯s hard to tell, I had no way to tell the time and I¡¯d given up on any hope of living past that.¡±

    Well, that was telling to an extent. I glanced over at Malstein, who considered Kalasyp¡¯s answers before turning to one of his subordinates.

    ¡°See that Mr. Kalasyp is well taken care of Rory. Mr. Kalasyp, I¡¯d like to hold you in Watch custody for a while. For your own protection.¡±

    From the look on Kalasyp¡¯s face, he did not want to accept. However, after a few seconds of probably considering his chance of surviving on the streets without a visit from his past employers, he slowly nodded and let himself be taken away.

    ¡°The foulhorn was lying,¡± one of the Watch officers noted, ignoring my gaze as I looked at him.

    ¡°Definitely,¡± Tagashin said. ¡°What about is the main point, but he definitely didn¡¯t speak the truth entirely through that.¡±

    ¡°Miss Harrow?¡± Malstein asked me. ¡°You were the one who saw him last before his ¡®abduction¡¯?¡±

    I sighed. Well, he¡¯d tried, and I hadn¡¯t said anything till asked. The most I could do for him.

    ¡°He mentioned needing me to handle his clients because he had fallen into a rather good deal,¡± I said. ¡°If I had to guess, it was this, although I doubt he had any idea what he¡¯d signed up for till he made it down here. Escape attempts are probably true, once he realized what they wanted he would have tried to make a runner. I find the timing even more important. Looks like there¡¯s a leak among your chain of command, Captain.¡±

    Malstein grimaced. ¡°I don¡¯t think anyone below me. Above me perhaps, which makes the idea of holding him in the Coffin troubling. Especially because if anyone knows where the Changer''s Lab is, it¡¯s him.¡±

    "We could head right there," Tagashin said. "Assuming he is willing to talk."

    "He might not remember now," I said. "Traumatic events, plus his condition. Add the fact he''s terrified of both me and you and the Watch just a little less. The Delvers might have a better idea."

    "Or we could give him time to remember," Malstein said. "You heard him about the creature being led away. He could still hear it, but who is to say if it is close to their lab anymore? And the Coffin is too dangerous to keep him in if someone informed the Changers."

    ¡°I have an idea,¡± I said. ¡°We do have another place. Perhaps not as secure but¡­¡± I gave the surrounding Watch members a glance. And got a series of angry or insulted expressions in return.

    Well, I hadn¡¯t been the one who¡¯d leaked. ¡°Doctor Dawes, how well could we fit Kalasyp into one of your and Mr. Voltar¡¯s houses?¡±

    He¡¯d left his chair. I remembered him getting up, but hadn¡¯t noted him not sitting down again.

    Dawes had gone over to the stack of papers from Kalasyp¡¯s tomb, going through them with an increasingly pale face as he read them.

    ¡°Doctor?¡± I asked again, coming closer.

    He whirled about, turning to face me, but I caught a glimpse of what lay on those pages. A seal depicting an armored figure clad all in white. Scales held high in one hand, a flaming sword in the other. Seal and depiction of the god Halspus, symbol of his church.

    I looked at the paper and then quietly held out my hand. Others were crowding closer, but no one intervened as Dawes handed it over. I read through it briefly, instructions and orders to follow the bearer, that it was the beginning of a new crusade to rid the city of it''s Infernal Menace.

    I read it thrice, then looked at the seal, then laughed.

 Chapter 88 - Rats in a Maze I

    ¡°Malvia?¡± someone asked me. I couldn¡¯t tell who, but I got my laughter under control.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± I said as I passed the piece of paper back to Dawes. ¡°I simply can not believe how gullible those Pure Bloods are to fall for this. This must be fake.¡±

    It had to be fake. Sure, the Church of Halpus hated Infernals. Sure, they¡¯d been making moves recently. But there was a difference between that and this, a signed writ directly beseeching some random human street gang for help. Sure, it said the bearers were servants of the church instead of shape-changers, and they¡¯d made it so some bishop had signed instead of the church¡¯s head, but this blatant a piece of evidence? Clearly faked.

    ¡°The seal looks very authentic,¡± Dawes said shakily, looking over the paper again. ¡°Some others have it as well, and those are at least more easy to confirm.¡±

    I looked over at Malstein. This was, after all, his show, and I¡¯d already stepped on his toes. A hundred Watch eyes affixed on me did a good job of reminding me to tread carefully. Malstein nodded, and I went to the rest of the papers, going through them.

    Lists of equipment to be delivered, among them for alchemical supplies. Seems like the Pure Bloods were doing a lot of the grunt work, which seemed strange. With that warehouse, the shape-changers clearly had either the ability to move cargo or their own people they trusted. More lists, various weapons. A few targets to help the bearers of these paper with, some to kill on their own.

    One was where Golvar would be, what time he should reach that little alchemist shop Gio had sent him to, where they should ambush him. How many of the Pure Bloods should be sent. The attempt that had started my involvement in this mess.

    ¡°This is too obvious,¡± I said. ¡°This is a mountain of evidence implicating the church. There is not a remote possibility they would risk having their name dragged into this. It wasn¡¯t just wreaking havoc in the Quarter, they targeted the nobility!¡±

    Malstein had leafed through the papers now, looking at each carefully.

    ¡°It¡¯s in the hands of a bishop,¡± Malstein said. ¡°I know this one. There were questions involving some purchases she made on the church¡¯s behalf before. She could be a rogue. Or a changer.¡±

    I frowned. ¡°Could a changer even wield divine magic? Be a devout follower, so if one replaced an existing bishop, they shouldn¡¯t be able to touch the divine to the same extent, correct?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s assuming one isn¡¯t a devout follower,¡± Tagashin chimed in from where she sat on one of the few intact chairs. "Or that a changer couldn''t join the church as a devout follower and naturally rise the ranks.¡±

    I frowned. That was also a possibility, as was this just being church corruption? Perhaps the bishop was willing to be bought. One fact clicked into place. A potential answer.

    ¡°A devout bishop could summon a divine creature capable of providing ichor for the poison,¡± I said. ¡°If it fits within the broad goals of their deity¡¯s goals, there wouldn¡¯t be any issue. Although the celestial would hardly be happy with what happened. But you wouldn¡¯t need to imprison it. Just take a little blood and banish it before anyone notices.¡±

    Repeated summonings would take a lot out of the caster, but if paced well you could manage them. A lot of money in reagents, but money didn¡¯t seem too large an issue, from what I¡¯d seen of their operation and Hawkins¡¯s talk. Not enough where someone hadn¡¯t considered engaging in what they¡¯d tried to frame me for, but enough to manage. Especially if the Bishop would pilfer from inside the church.

    Another piece of the puzzle. Some were still missing, but we could test its shape and see how it felt.

    I went through the rest of the papers first. Nothing too useful, equipment to be retrieved, members of the gang to bring down, parts of the underground to check for signs of activity. Most of these had been sent by the Changers, with regular ones from the bishop telling them to obey the people sent to oversee them and not to worry about the details. There were instructions to burn after reading at the bottom of each.

    Clearly, someone had collected these instead and hidden them with Kalasyp as insurance. A point in favor of the bishop being real, since I doubted anyone who would take that precaution would trust a scrap of paper with a seal.

    Then again, they¡¯d been fooled into thinking Lord Montague supported them, and some of these papers mentioned his support as well. If I wanted to add a fake noble just to embolden the thugs, I¡¯d go for someone with more name recognition and prominence. The bishop might be fake as well.

    One last quick read-through of them all. A lot of moved goods. This place probably had been a waystation for the lab, stuff stored here till the Changers were ready to move it to the lab. It likely lay further underground,  where the Delvers had not yet gotten to.

    ¡°Let¡¯s piece this together,¡± I said, looking around the vast room. Some of the Watch had left, taking up posts in the surrounding tunnels, others still inside to guard. Others were helping to get Kalasyp into a condition to move to the surface. ¡°We¡¯ve got a space. We¡¯ve got details. We don¡¯t have the criminals, but that¡¯s going to end up being difficult no matter what we do.¡±

    Tagashin cleared her throat. ¡°Excuse me, are you trying to steal the climatic revelation from I, Voltar, the greatest of all detectives?¡±

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    Okay, I was going to test Malstein or Gregory when I had a chance. Being exposed to as much glamour as Tagashin must be pumping into them could not be healthy.

    ¡°It¡¯s not much of a mystery,¡± I said. ¡°Well, it was, but that¡¯s because everyone has been colliding with each other, including the Changers. Hawkins¡¯ interrogation gave the impression they aren¡¯t working as closely together as we might think. So, unless you think this is truly worth a dissection worthy of your mind, Mr. Voltar?¡±

    Tagashin considered me for a second, then shrugged.

    ¡°Very well then, apprentice,¡± she said. ¡°You have the bloodstained floor.¡±

    Had she informed the real Voltar about this apprentice idea? Probably not. I clopped to the middle of the floor, being watched by some idle Watch, a barely there Kalaysp, Dawes, Malstein, and a smirking Tagashin.

    ¡°Our story begins several hundred years ago,¡± I began. ¡°With an attempted takeover of the Duchy of Anvlia by a minor son of the ruling dynasty, Dustin Tarry.¡±

    ¡°Starting on shaky ground,¡± Tagashin interrupted. ¡°Evidence that none of us have seen and is based on your interpretation of a book title. Poor show.¡±

    I glared at the Kitsune. ¡°Perhaps the great Voltar would wish to come up here and show his apprentice how it¡¯s done? Or perhaps just accept this is a theory?¡±

    The Kitsun¨¦ could chafe as much as she liked. I would not let her derail this. She remained quiet, so I continued.

    ¡°It failed. The random chaos of adventuring parties of the time doing what they did best uncovered the infiltration of one of the more minor houses of the Duchy. Over several decades the efforts of other adventuring groups and the king¡¯s army slowed, stopped, and then reversed the takeover and also caught the Changer¡¯s creator. They did not, however, catch all the Changers.¡±

    ¡°Reasonable,¡± Tagashin said. ¡°If we assume these are his shape-changers.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve got decent evidence Lord Montague is leading them now,¡± Dawes reminded her. ¡°He had to have something to accomplish that. What they wanted would be enough.¡±

    ¡°Likely, but that¡¯s getting a little too ahead of ourselves,¡± I said. ¡°Instead of hiding out in the countryside, they come here to the big city. They probably started small. No name immigrants coming in looking for work. As they got used to the city, they probably started picking off ideal targets and replacing them. Loners, people who they could impersonate where a personality shift wouldn¡¯t be noticed by close friends or family. They use that to slowly gain more power and influence.¡±

    Essentially, what Gio had done, just with less bribery, threats, and demonic possession and more murder. Had their operations bumped up against each other before? That might be part of why the Flame had been a target in this.

    ¡°They get to work setting up fake identities and stockpiling,¡± I said. ¡°The warehouse was evidence of that. What were they doing? Surviving, if I had to guess. If there was a central goal, it eludes me.¡±

    No disagreement so far.

    ¡°So,¡± I said. ¡°The changers put someone in the Church of Halpus a few decades back. Or more accurately, one signs up of their own free will. We¡¯re talking about an actual follower. It could be she split from them initially or not. She rises in the ranks till she reaches the bishopric. I don¡¯t think they planned on that being useful, but maybe they discovered this next point further back than I thought.¡±

    ¡°At some point, one of them finds out Dustin Tarry¡¯s testimony is locked in the archives, as well as other accounts. And this sets everything off. Dustin Tarry was a Biosculptor, one who created a race. Two things any Biosculptor learns to do with any created life forms are remove their ability to make more of themselves and make them have a weakness you can exploit. You can pick whichever of those reasons they pursued it, but they wanted it.¡±

    ¡°If it¡¯s the weakness, I don¡¯t see why,¡± Malstein said. ¡°They¡¯re already hard enough to take down as it is.¡±

    ¡°It would be something Tarry was sure they wouldn¡¯t encounter regularly or even semi-regularly,¡± I said. ¡°He designed them as infiltrators. Anything that could kill them or weaken them would be something he had access to, but no one else could use. It could be a word. It could be a special alloy. Actually no. It would be something he could make with nothing else, so a phrase, a word, something anyone could produce but most never would.¡±

    ¡°Foreign language?¡± Malstein suggested. ¡°Empire was a kingdom back then, and much less of a melting pot. Could be he picked up a phrase he figured no one would say.¡±

    ¡°Possibly, depends how far afield. Or it could be how to make more of them.¡±

    ¡°So they hatch the plan to replace Lord Montague¡¯s heir?¡± Tagashin asks. ¡°Realizing that the old man probably has far too defined of a personality to replace.¡±

    ¡°Yes, and they decide on a poison that, when cured more often than not results in personality changes for the survivor,¡± I said. ¡°Removing any need to fool close relatives. Probably the heir, possibly because if they poisoned Lord Montague, the royal family would remove the house¡¯s management of the archives as a precaution against a fight among potential heirs and other power grab attempts. And that leads us into their efforts to put that into reality.¡±

    ¡°And ended up falling into ruin from pure chance or divine intervention,¡± Doctor Dawes noted.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t bet on divine intervention keeping Golvar alive,¡± I deadpanned. ¡°But yes, him running across me-¡±

    ¡°When you were disguised as their chosen fall woman, Falara,¡± Tagashin noted, which got a choked sound of panic and shock out of a slowly eating Kalasyp who stared at me in disbelief.

    ¡°Yes, thank you for that fact everyone definitely needed to know,¡± I told her. ¡°But yes, things got screwed up from there. The Watch never found the box of Angel¡¯s Sorrow they were supposed to find Golvar delivering to Versalicci. I ended up discovering something strange was going on and also they got greedy and sent a changer to my lab trying to get the cures. Someone panicked and ransacked my apartment, stealing my possessions, probably as evidence in Lord Montague¡¯s mock trial. Then that went wrong, and I escaped, and they¡¯ve been winging things since then.¡±

    The events leading up to there needed less discussion. It was a lot of conjecture, but it hung on what was known, and we had a new figure to grab and maybe unravel this entire mess with. Of course, that depended on Malstein being more willing to go after a member of the church than he had been a noble.

    And there was a more immediate question.

    A dozen shifters. Thirteen, if you believed my suspicions about Lady Karsin. Maybe two less now? The Archives were on lockdown and none of us had an answer on if the two changers who had gone inside ever came out.

    ¡°This is too easy,¡± I muttered. ¡°Think. They knew we were coming down to the Pure Blood¡¯s hideout. Sure, we¡¯ve brought their numbers down a little, but even if the two at the archives never made it out, there would be more than enough to ambush us. Kill us even. Why not?¡±

    ¡°One question no one has thought to answer,¡± Tagashin said. ¡°If they can summon another celestial, or even if they have all the poison they need, why would they need the basilisk anymore?¡±

    Silence broke out at that. Then a scream, more screams that suddenly stopped. Cut off in an instant, and a low sibilant hiss echoed across the tunnel halls, building into a roar matched by Kalasyp¡¯s sudden ragged scream.

    Basilisk.

 Chapter 89 - Rats in A Maze II

    As soon as that Malstein was yelling, already quelling a brewing panic.

    ¡°Everyone starts cutting blindfolds now!¡± he roared. ¡°I want them ready and able to be donned at a moment¡¯s notice!¡±

    I cocked my ear as another roar echoed across the walls. It wasn¡¯t that close.

    ¡°We should barricade the entrances,¡± I yelled to the captain. ¡°It¡¯s not close, and when we¡¯ve blindfolded ourselves the sound of it smashing through can tell us where it is.¡±

    Malstein paused, then nodded. While he sent instructions I looked around for Tagashin and Doctor Dawes. Doctor Dawes was by Kalasyp, helping restrain the visibly panicking alchemist as he tried to run for an exit.

    I couldn¡¯t see Tagashin. Brilliant. Well, hopefully, she hadn¡¯t decided now was the perfect time to leave us all to our deaths.

    Watch members were moving furniture from around the room to the two entrances. More of them rushed inside just ahead of the impromptu barricade. The hydrologist was calling some of the blood back in as well, giving her something to use.

    The sound mage just looked helpless. Anything that would damage our hearing was not going to be helpful.

    Speaking of hearing another roar, my enhanced hearing could pick up on something else as well. The scraping of claw against stone, coming from the entrance my group had come inside.

    ¡°That side!¡± I yelled while pointing. Watch squads didn¡¯t question me, just moving with pistols drawn, most of them scrambling at improvised blindfolds made of cloth.

    Mistakes, don¡¯t hurry with them. Tie them tightly and take your time. Even the slightest mistake could mean instant petrification. Malstein was already yelling as much as I limped over to him.

    ¡°Put me in the middle,¡± I said. ¡°With plenty of space on either side.¡±

    The next set of barked orders halted as he turned to look at me.

    ¡°You want to take the vanguard?¡± he asked.

    ¡°In a matter of speaking,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ve got the most destructive capabilities of those here, and they might be able to harm it?¡±

    Basilisk scales could turn away swords and bullets with ease. The real question is if they could turn away hellfire?

    It is the fires of the hells themselves girl, they will burn through all.

    The Imp¡¯s boasting aside, we would find out. They were resistant to magic, but resistance was not immunity.

    ¡°I¡¯ll need a wide field of fire,¡± I said hurriedly. ¡°Corruption, corruption is an issue but if we end it fast enough we can handle it?¡±

    Malstein considered it for a second then nodded. ¡°Better to be alive and dealing with that than dead. Everyone, a wide v-shaped formation with Miss Harrow at the center. Two squads on each side!¡±

    People hurried into place while I eyed the barricade. Jumbled together tables and chairs, the arcane stove in the middle. That would go up if I hit it, but without it having been on and going for a while it shouldn¡¯t be too explosive.

    Not enough time to think, the scrambling was close and its roar was thunderous.

    Someone discharged a pistol and I cursed. Malstein yelled for fire to cease till they could hear it breaking down the wood.

    Close now. We had one chance to take it down quickly before everything devolved fully into chaos. Once it was past the doorway, blindness would lead to no organization at all.

    Another pistol discharged nearby and Malstein yelled for fire to be held again. The sound of talons scraping on stone was right nearby and with a snarl the sounds of crashing wood.

    No orders could hold back the pistols now. My ears were overwhelmed by the sound of gunshots and I couldn¡¯t hear any basilisk sounds. I pointed forward, pulling on my power and hellfire flowed out, a stream aimed at the entrance inside.

    The roar of the basilisk grew in volume as wood was smashed, the ground shaking underneath my feet. The entire chamber shattered, the sound of bricks being pushed against it. Was it too large for the entrance? A massive clattering sound answered that, probably a wall breaking, bricks falling apart. The sound of pistols faded away as revolvers emptied their chambers, but the roar of the basilisk continued.

    The arcane stove exploded, sending bits of wood flying. Screams to either side of me as flying splinters struck, but hellfire must have eaten all that flew at me.

    The creature scrambled, claws on stone as it moved towards the left. More gunshots and the sounds of screams as I kept the hellfire going. Tearing flesh, cut-off yells turned to gurgling death rattles as I cut the flames off before they hit where I thought the line was.

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    The ground rattled with each step. Something launched into me, wet and heavy and forcing me to the ground. It was only as I lay on the ground shoving it off that I realized it was someone''s lower torso and legs, intestine spilling out onto me.

    I got up, kicking the half a corpse to the side as the screams continued, along with the gunfire. Whatever line we¡¯d had must have broken down by now. How many were killing each other in this chaos?

    Where the hell was the basilisk? I could hear claws scrambling on the ground next to me, and a hiss from further up.

    ¡°On the ground!¡± I yelled and then a second later hellfire sprayed from my hands.

    A shriek then a sequel and then something rammed into my stomach. I gasped as the wind got knocked out of me, whatever it was sending me to the ground.

    Tail? Tail as it slammed into me again, rock-hard scales smashing into my stomach. My hands scrambled, one touch its smooth surface and immediately I sent rot into it.

    Another shriek, as scales turned loose in my hand, coming off its skin as I ran my hand down its tail. I tried to get to my hooves, only for the tail to whip out of my grasp.

    More shrieks and screams. Some screams cut off, petrification or death I couldn¡¯t tell as I got my hands on the floor, getting me back upright.

    My leg was a pounding, agonizing mess as I turned towards where the sounds of death came.

    ¡°On the ground!¡±

    More flames sprayed out, and I could only help people got out of the way as I kept them directed upwards. The basilisk couldn¡¯t get that low! More roaring, but I couldn¡¯t tell if the flame had any effect. The rot did.

    The room shook and suddenly I was swept off my feet. Water! The beast had broken the cistern¡¯s floor!

    I cut off the flame immediately as I was pushed away, the water sweeping away my feet. I scrambled, fingers trying to find a purchase on the stone floor.

    More water kept pouring, and then something rammed into me, shrieking as its bulk ripped me off of the floor.

    The basilisk snarled as the water swept us both across the room. A talon sliced at my leg in a panic, cutting right above my hoof, a line of fiery pain. Teeth bit down into my shoulder and my scream was muffled by the water as it poured into my mouth.

    I grasped at it, hands slipping on scales but it was enough of a grip. If hellfire couldn¡¯t burn it, let it rot.

    Scales came loose and my hands reached deeper, into decaying flesh, into melting bone, and further. Talons ripped and cut and tore as my own hands pulled disintegrating organs apart. It bit my shoulder again and in response, I yanked teeth out of rotting gums.

    It screamed, cut, and sliced, and I reached inside, pulling it apart in response. The flood of water stopped, leaving the two of us within four feet of it, that height already rapidly shrinking. The Hydrologist reversed the flooding.

    I needed to act fast before it regained its footing. Flesh and skin disintegrated as I tore in, pouring more energy in as I ripped and tore. Pieces flew about, splattering across as the basilisk writhed and then went still.

    I didn¡¯t stop, not till my hands tore through the chest cavity and what must be its heart melted into mush. Then, hands coated with liquified organs, I undid my blindfold.

    stretching in front of me was a vast lizard, fifteen feet long and a third as broad, its chest cavity open and liquified muck sprayed across the floor. I was knee deep in this black and brown goop, the remnants of flesh and organs. I felt bile rising as I got up, narrowly avoiding a long toothy maw with half its teeth ripped out, the others jutting out at weird angles from its misshapen mouth. Beady little eyes remain fixed on where I¡¯d torn the basilisk¡¯s heart apart.

    The only reason it hadn¡¯t killed me was that three of its legs were just gone, stumps trailing strips of flesh. The side of its torso was caved in, gone buttery and soft. It had barely been able to move.

    I got up, wading through a puddle of half-melted intestine.

    I forced my attention away from the disintegrating monstrosity.

    Dr. Dawes and Kalasyp were near the back of the room, huddled among a few other Watch. Malstein with a cluster of others. Others were moving, some wounded screaming as they tried to hold their wounds shut. In the center the Hydrologist stood, hands outstretched as she kept the cistern from flooding down onto us. A hole had opened, water swirling a foot past as she held it at bay.

    Twelve? Maybe a few more but twelve seemed the grand number of survivors. Nearly four-fifths of our number had died with me barely being aware.

    Blood and bits of bodies lay scattered about, most of them torn to shreds. They weren¡¯t the only things littering the floor.

    Scattered bits of stone lay around. A room littered with blood was now littered with rubble. You could make out what had once been what part of other people. Limbs and clothing all turned. That wasn''t the only cause of death though.

    At least a dozen charred corpses. Hells. I glanced at Malstein as he looked across the floor.

    His gaze stayed focused on them and then suddenly he turned. I tensed, flame gathering in my hands as he whirled, hatred filling his eyes.

    Malstein shot his pistol into the beast¡¯s eye, once, twice, then thrice.

    It was already dead, but I held my tongue. Even after killing the basilisk, some things were more dangerous. Instinct told me getting on the wrong side of the furious Watch captain with the wrong kind of comments would be more harmful than fighting the basilisk again.

    ¡°Captain?¡± Doctor Dawes asked cautiously. ¡°We need to leave. Your hydrologist-¡±

    ¡°Givens, how long can you hold that?¡± Malstein snapped, ignoring Dawes and turning to glare at the Watch Mage.

    She didn¡¯t seem intimidated. ¡°Ten minutes Captain, maybe a little bit longer? It¡¯s a lot of water and the damage to the brickwork is spreading as more tries to breach through. It¡¯s contained, but the longer it¡¯s there the more it¡¯s going to erode the stability.¡±

    Malstein took a shuddering breath. ¡°Is Kalasyp alive?¡±

    He was, over by Dawes, and Malstein stomped over there. I remained by the dead basilisk, eyeing it. Something glinted where Malstein had stopped, glowing where the bullet had punched through eyeball.

    ¡°Corruption?¡± I whispered to the Imp as I leaned down. The glowing was red, a pustulent growth that seemed to be reaching tendrils inside the dead creature''s flesh as it beat.

    Yes, the Imp replied. A new devil waiting to be born out of this creature¡¯s corpse.

    ¡°Lucky,¡± I remarked, straightening up as my leg protested every little movement. I wiped my hands off on my clothes, just adding more rotted flesh and liquidized organ to the heavy coating present. My clothes were ruined once again.

    Indeed, the Imp said. It¡¯ll be truly powerful, having been born out of this tough of a foe.

    ¡°Not what I meant. Captain, you¡¯ll want to shoot this before we leave!¡±

    The Imp was silent, then in a petulant whine, You are no fun at all.

    No, I thought as I looked at all the dead around us. I¡¯m really not. Let¡¯s see how many others we can teach that little lesson to.

 Chapter 90 - Rats in a Maze III

    More had survived than I thought.

    Calamities always seem worse at first glance, and this had been no exception. Plenty of those I¡¯d thought were dead had turned out to be alive.

    Morbid and cruel it might be to think, but that had caused more problems. A mad scramble developed to get the wounded out before the water came crashing down.

    Not all of them lived. The survivors who could walk pulled the others screaming and shuddering, and carried them roughly across floors while others tried to bandage them on the move. What they needed was a hospital. What they¡¯d gotten was a dirty old storage room under the earth, pulled roughly across it till they couldn¡¯t take anymore.

    A lot of screaming and yelling and crying. I couldn¡¯t relate that much. Frustration, yes, that so many had died but most of these, we were too far from help. Their wounds were too serious. The walking wounded would make it. Maybe one or two of the others. The rest were dead already, lingering on because Malstein was determined not to lose anymore.

    Another had died because of that insistent. We¡¯d pressed right against the deadline given by Givens trying to get them all out. The sudden rush of water had swept us off our feet again, a three-foot wave that sent people down the hallway. One Watchwoman, already grievously injured, had rammed her head against the stone of the tunnel wall. Split open, her head turned the water red as the rest of us got to our feet.

    Death had come swiftly at least.

    The retreat down the hallway brought us more time at each doorway. Our path was slowly heading uphill. After the initial bursts of trying to rush every which way from the pressure, it started flowing down into the earth, away from us. Sudden sweeps of water threatening to take us off our feet ceased to be an issue.

    Unfortunately, it wasn¡¯t our only issue.

    We were still in the underground, flooded with all kinds of monsters since the dwarves had abandoned it. Numbers had kept them at bay before, but now the basilisk had cut us to a fragment of our former strength. And worse, we were carrying injured with us. Injured who had bled. Injured whose scent would be spreading through these underground passages to any nose more sensitive than a human¡¯s.

    There were far too many creatures who matched that criteria.

    We had a dozen mostly uninjured, a half dozen walking wounded, and a half dozen too wounded to walk. I knew better than to even attempt arguing at leaving them behind. Even suggesting doing so with guards and in an easy-to-protect location would draw Malstein¡¯s ire.

    His gaze hadn¡¯t cooled. Malstein had said nothing about the Watch that had died at my hellfire, but I knew better than to think it forgotten. The chaos of that fight and the inability to tell where I¡¯d been aiming protected my hide. Best not to test that protection.

    So most of us were carrying impromptu litters loaded with men and women Dawes had stitched up and treated as best he could. He and Kalasyp traveled between them, offering what help they could.

    The alchemist was little more than a spare set of hands, constantly shaking as every little noise set him off. His time in what could have easily been his tomb had clearly unsettled him.

    A half dozen too injured to walk. A dozen carrying them. Kalasyp and Dawes attend to their needs on the go. That left a mere four to guard, me, Malstein, Givens, and a random watchman named Verns.

    And I got to take the vanguard. On the one hand, it made sense. I could hit the hardest among us, I had better hearing than anyone here thanks to my tinkering. On the other, my leg felt once again like a hammer had been taken to it. The dressing on my shoulder did plenty for the bleeding, but nothing for the pain from the bite wound that went from the biceps to the neck. My stomach still felt it had been ripped from the inside after that tail swipe. Oh, and I was still covered in goop, slime, and rotting basilisk and would need a week-long bath when we got back to the surface.

    If we got back to the surface. My leg at least didn¡¯t hurt too much. The crawl we¡¯d been reduced to had caused that.

    Luckily, the first ten minutes passed without the flood of hungry monsters I¡¯d feared. After a second to shove my anger aside and think, it made sense. A basilisk¡¯s presence would scare away most monsters from the area it prowled. Little protected from the danger of petrification. If its eyes met yours, you were stone for it to munch.

    That swarm of monsters wouldn¡¯t come till we were further out.

    However, we had an additional problem as I turned a quarter. A pair of dead Watch officers were on the ground ahead, blood poured all over the floor.

    Not turned to stone. Everyone tensed, Malstein and the Hydrologist following behind me as I approached the pair of corpses.

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    I eyed the two dead bodies, then examined them carefully and with respect.

    ¡°Someone cut their throats,¡± I reported. ¡°I realize that¡¯s obvious, but while the blows nearly severed the head, it resembled sword strokes more than a claw. They didn¡¯t have blindfolds, and neither showed any signs of petrification, so good odds this wasn¡¯t the basilisk.¡±

    It was entirely possible the basilisk had happened upon them without being detected. It was also possible that my aunt was secretly the high priestess of an arch-devil. Basilisks could move quietly in certain environments. Enclosed tunnels where the sound of exposed claws scraping on stone would echo were not one of them.

    Malstein has joined me now, looking down stonily at the two bodies.

    ¡°Dr. Dawes, can you confirm that?¡±

    I held my tongue despite the spike of rage that had gone through my heart at that. Sure, I was nowhere near the anatomist or doctor that Dawes was, but neither was I blind.

    Dawes gave me an apologetic look as he came over from treating the patients, checking the two bodies.

    ¡°The blows were dealt by someone taller than both men,¡± Dawes noted. ¡°The cuts show the blow was from the front and it goes lower as it travels to the back of the neck. They could see whoever struck the blow.¡±

    I checked their revolvers, opening the cylinders. A look at each confirmed what I already thought from the lack of gunpowder residue on the barrel or cylinder face.

    ¡°They didn¡¯t fire a shot. Dr. Dawes, would Captain Malstein have been the right height for these blows?¡±

    That caused a stir from some of those in the back, but thankfully the Captain himself picked up on my line of thought.

    ¡°Shape-changers,¡± he growled.

    ¡°It makes sense,¡± I said. ¡°They came just before us. They must have also had someone here to bring the basilisk, or set up some mechanism to do the same. One of them talked too long, has to make it past the guards here, and assumes your shape. Takes advantage of the confusion to deliver two blows and leave. Doctor?¡±

    Dawes had been eyeballing the Captain¡¯s height, then the bodies below.

    ¡°Without a rather morbid recreation of the events, I think Miss Harrow is right,¡± he said. ¡°This one, officer¡­?¡±

    ¡°Parks,¡± Malstein barked.

    ¡°Parks,¡± Dawes said calmly. ¡°Rather tall, possibly one of the tallest in your unit, excluding yourself. Although I think perhaps the changer increased their height, or more likely their size, as they swung. The angle is a bit too steep.¡±

    ¡°Too bad we no longer have the world¡¯s greatest detective to confirm that,¡± Givens noted bitterly.

    Me and Dawes traded looks and now the Doctor seemed nervous. Tagashin¡¯s absence had not been missed. I¡¯d hoped the sheer number of bodies would cover it up, or that petrification or torn apart ones would make the lack of a body not in Watch breastplate less obvious.

    I don¡¯t know if either Malstein or Givens had noted the lack of a dead Voltar as we¡¯d rushed about in those ten minutes. They were firmly convinced he was alive and had fled the battle when it had started.

    They weren¡¯t wrong, just who had actually fled. That Kitsun¨¦ was going to get shot if she popped up soon. The actual Voltar¡¯s reputation was about to take a hit, although I couldn¡¯t force myself to care too much. The Watch officers didn¡¯t seem to blame me or Dawes, who¡¯d actually stayed and fought. Voltar could endure a few dings to his reputation, and Tagashin a few dings to her hide if she showed up again.

    Continuing past the dead Watch officers after Malstein collected their badges, we made it another hundred feet and turned a corner before I could hear a concerning noise.

    Squeaking.

    ¡°We got rats ahead,¡± I said. ¡°Weapons out.¡±

    Weapons were drawn. By the two of us that could hold weapons. Kalasyp shrank back, heading towards the rear of our group.

    ¡°Do you think they¡¯re a danger?¡± Malstein asked.

    ¡°I think that with shape-changers, you can¡¯t take any chances. I also think two normal rats being alive in a monster-infested underground is very suspicious!¡±

    ¡°Rats survive in all kinds of places,¡± Dawes noted.

    ¡°Yes, and that¡¯s no reason not to be cautious?¡± I said. ¡°Shoot the rat. It¡¯s a bullet.¡±

    ¡°Or you could blast them with hellfire, and if they are shape-changers, it¡¯ll have more effect than a single bullet,¡± Malstein said.

    A fair point, but voicing why I couldn¡¯t invite an attack if the rats were listening in. I walked closer, then paused. Had the wall next to me rippled? I gave it a second look as another ripple traveled through.

    The hells? The same earth spirit? Very unlikely, but it gave me a good idea as I walked near where the brief ripple had been.

    ¡°I¡¯d suggest you clear off,¡± I said. ¡°We¡¯ve both lost a fair bit today. No need to make it any worse for either of our sides. You lost your pet, we lost many people. Leave it at that, or it will hurt.¡±

    I held off conjuring Hellfire, waiting to see what the rats would do.

    My supply wasn¡¯t inexhaustible. I¡¯d been using it like it was recently, and truthfully being the daughter of a Duke gave me a leg up on most people. My focus did more to help as well, but there was still a limit. A point where when I pulled on something to fuel the spells, I¡¯d be pulling on myself.

    That had been my fix to diabolism, blocking off my access to that internal pool. Stuck, sacrificing body parts or organs every time I wanted to tap into my hellish ancestry.

    Rotting the Basilisk had taken a lot out of me. More than killing Hawkins had, as while Hawkins had been massive and able to regenerate, the basilisk¡¯s hide had been resistant to both magic and decay.

    I¡¯d come out of the fight at the party tired, exhausted, and low on diabolism. It would have been long before I started melting body parts again. I was closing in on that again.

    One rat squeaked angrily at the other, and I rolled my eyes as the second squeaked back.

    ¡°It¡¯s the best offer you¡¯re getting,¡± I told them. ¡°And that¡¯s on the generous end.¡±

    More squeaking, and I moved close to where the elemental had been. If there would be a surprise attack, it would be violent and dramatic. Enough to rouse the elements spirit¡¯s fury? Maybe. A risky gambit, but I didn¡¯t have enough to handle two shape-changers, assuming I lived long enough to try.

    A scream rose from behind me, and I shoved down that instinct screaming at me to turn around.

    ¡°Changer behind!¡± someone screamed.

    I ducked, and one rat exploded, flesh bursting out of them and swinging where I¡¯d been.

    The wall shattered and a deep booming roar shook the tunnel as I hurried on hands and knees to the other side. Cracks had already formed in the walls and the floor underneath me as the earth spirit roared once again.

    Time to see how much rot I had in me.

 Chapter 91 - Rats in a Maze IV

    I moved, running back towards Dawes and Malstein, hoping I could make it.

    Two steps and the ground beneath me shifted as the low rumble of the earth elemental grew. My hoof stepped on a section as it cracked, and it sent me to the ground.

    The shaking didn¡¯t stop, sending me from one side to another as rocks fell from the ceiling above. I scrambled forward, only for something to land on my shoulder blade. I couldn¡¯t hear my scream over the rumbling as I collapsed.

    More rocks fell, and I curled up, hands over my head and the back of my neck as I waited for the storm to be over.

    The rumbling continued, and the shaking of the earth. I couldn¡¯t hear anything over either as more stones piled up around me. Something smashed down on my tail and I grit my teeth as my entire spine hurt. I whipped it over next to me, every movement agony. I closed my eyes, just hoping the rock fall would keep anyone else away from me. And not hit me.

    I waited. I waited till the rumbling stopped, till the earth stopped shaking. I counted seconds after that, settling on three minutes. Enough time for the rampaging earth spirit to have moved on after destroying the tunnel, short enough that any surviving shape-changers hadn¡¯t dug their way to me yet.

    I opened my eyes, only to be met with inky blackness. Okay, I didn¡¯t care if maintaining it used up even more reagents than on my ears. I was making these able to see in the dark.

    I coughed and then tried moving. I could move, albeit every slightest movement sent pain shooting up one part of me or another. My tail ached the most besides my already injured leg, the usually fluid movements stiff and trying to move the last third of it resulted in my entire limb seizing up. Groaning, I reached inside my pockets. One of the first rules of the tunnels, always make sure you had alternate light sources.

    Luckily I hadn¡¯t lost my matches in the chaos, and after a few tries a small flame lit. Piled-up rocks and rubble greeted me on close to all sides. The earth elemental¡¯s rampage had collapsed the roof down, but I¡¯d gotten lucky. Nothing had landed directly on me, just glancing blows and slight hits.

    Enough that I felt terrible, and parts of me ached, but I could move. If I could fight was an entirely different question, but I didn¡¯t feel helpless.

    I didn¡¯t think everyone else had been as lucky. I had heard nothing since the roof had collapsed. Either the entire tunnel to where they¡¯d been was filled with rocks, or no one over there was making noise. Both possibilities were pretty awful, and there were still the shape-changers to consider.

    I doubted any of them were dead. Which meant getting out of here as quickly as I could. There was space enough to stand up, albeit only in one spot. A few other places where I might crouch.

    I turned around, looking over all the surrounding rubble. Edges of stone pressed against me, scraping against my skin as I forced myself to turn. I had maybe a foot of space to move, less than that in most directions.

    One of the larger rocks seemed precariously balanced atop a pile of smaller stones. I could probably move it if I pushed hard enough, but that had its risks. Namely, disturbing any part of this could bring even more of the ceiling down on my head.

    Of course, the alternative was waiting in here for someone to dig me out. Assuming anyone was alive. I couldn¡¯t hear any fighting still, no real sounds at all except my own movements.

    Then something. But not from the direction the rest of my group had been. The other way. A liquid noise that sounded like a mixture of a bog and plumbing and a low growl mixed with a groan.

    A tendril poked through one hole in the rubble. I eyed it as it felt around. Then the end of it split, an eyeball forcing its way to the end.

    I jabbed my finger against it, willing the rot to transfer into the limb. The eye shriveled, grey liquid pouring around it as the tentacle withered. It turned sickly in an instant, gone from a thick rope of a limb to a shriveled whip. It fell to pieces while a shape-changer shrieked in pain on the other side.

    I was already pushing against my small exit. Limited resources, confined space, I was dead if I tried to fight inside there.

    The rock continued to shift while every crack on the other side oozed flesh. It poured through, slowly encroaching. Seemingly harmless. I would not wait to see how it could harm me.

    My shoulder hit the rock once, twice, each time pain rocking through me as thin fabric and skin collided with the stone. On the third hit, it finally shifted, and my hands shoved against it, trying to keep the momentum going. It tilted and rolled, and I forced my way out. Ahead was a part of the tunnel still intact, ten feet wide and thrice that long.

    Back in my little burial chamber, the poking-through flesh formed into a wall that rippled and then pulled back, ripping the fallen rubble away.

    To my dismay, more did not fall down to replace it

    The changer was a lump of flesh, tendrils spitting out of the greyish loaf of flesh and pulling it across the floor. More limbs formed now, poking out and forming into limbs resembling a frog as its body split in half.

    A tongue lashed out at me from the new mouth, grey slimy flesh wrapping around my forearm. My skin burned where the oozing flesh touched and I grabbed it with my other hand, channeling rot once more. I pulled and the tongue split apart a few feet down, sending me reeling as I tried to get it unwrapped from me. I pried it off part of my skin, and underneath had turned red.

    I wasn¡¯t doing this fast enough. Already a second tongue spat out, lashing around my leg. I reached out, but it pulled me off my feet.

    I cried out as the back of my head hit the stone with a resounding crack that made my vision swim.

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    My hand reflexively pulled off the rotted tongue. The other one pulled me across the floor as I tried to focus, the back of my head hurting even more than it bumped along the stones.

    I got my head up as I was dragged, seeing¡­four, no two shape-changers as my vision focused a little.

    Disappointing, the Imp said in my head. And there were hopes for you.

    The second shape-changer was coming in behind the first, resembling a squat, featherless bird with hooked claws extending from chicken-wing arms. Shrieking, it raised both and sank them into the back of the first changer.

    I¡­huh.

    The first changer turned around, the tongue releasing my leg and wrapping around one of the second¡¯s hands even as the bone blades plunged deeper through the flesh.

    Giggling, a fox-woman appeared next to me in a puff of what smelled like a bouquet and looked like some fireworks local kids would ask me to make come summer.

    Mostly to distract warehouse guards while they tried to rob the place. But some had actually been used as fireworks.

    So Tagashin hadn¡¯t run after all. That was nice.

    The two shape-changers were still cutting and slashing at each other. Roaring, one unleashed half a dozen spears of bone into the other, which shrieked and responded with a hook claw that sent globules of flesh flying. White pus-like liquid sprayed out of the newly cut wounds.

    ¡°The illusions won¡¯t last forever,¡± Tagashin whispered in my ear. ¡°I can keep them going, but they¡¯ll start wondering where the other is or why sensations of touch don¡¯t match the rest. Can you do something?¡±

    I stood on unsteady hooves, thinking about it. Rot. I had rot. The rot had been effective on Hawkins. A beat-up, already injured, once before near reduced to nothing by me, Hawkins. But it had worked. And then Gregory hadn¡¯t let me dance, and I¡¯d met Tagashin the first time, and if she wasn¡¯t such an ass all the time, that would have been nice.

    One of the shape-changers was currently using its claws to nearly rip the other in half. That sparked a thought. Inside every shape-changer¡­was what Hawkins had tried escaping as a last-ditch effort, or a true form?

    I ran forward, unsteady hooves almost sending me to the floor twice, but I crossed the distance before the wound closed and shoved my hand in.

    When I¡¯d done this with Hawkins, he¡¯d been gigantic, impossible to reach far enough inside. This one was much smaller, and I could feel something inside, something with a firmer, harder consistency than the other internals. Skin?

    A tendril wrapped around me, but I still sent a touch of rot into it, just a little. Then I was hurtling across the tunnel as it bellowed, back smashing into the wall.

    I groaned, puked, and got on my hands and knees. My spine felt like it had been hit with a sledge. My tail¡­I couldn¡¯t feel my tail. I moved forward, uncertain where anything was, only a blurry uncertain mess.

    I felt someone grab my throat, and I almost bit their arm till I realized it was Tagashin as the world became defined again.

    The shape-changer I¡¯d touched was melting, but as it was, it had driven a massive blade of bone in the other, splitting it in half.

    ¡°Get me closer,¡± I whispered, and I was floating, moving across the tunnel till we were near them. The split shape-changer was ripping into the melting form of the other, sending goopy flesh splattering across the tunnel walls.

    A touch of my hand was deep enough and they joined their comrade. As the two melted, Tagashin set me down on the tunnel floor.

    I coughed, pulling myself to a tunnel wall and at least sit up. ¡°What was that spell you cast on me?¡±

    ¡°Just a purging,¡± Tagashin said, watching the two melting shape-changers continue to shriek and stab at each other. ¡°Cleansed the acid, and it wasn¡¯t a fast-acting kind, as well as helped clear your head for a bit. These things probably can¡¯t make anything more powerful. They also seem to die, and rather quickly at that. Figured out a trick?¡±

    ¡°Hawkins,¡± I rasped. ¡°He had a human-sized core for lack of a better term. There¡¯s a part of them that forms that core. It¡¯s probably resistant to most forms of magic, but it must be unstable life energy of some kind. Diabolic rot is anathema. So would a necromancer. No idea how they shrink but-¡±

    ¡°Yes would have sufficed,¡± Tagashin said. ¡°Sorry they smacked you around, I can create illusions for most sense, but touch is hard to replace.¡±

    She sounded genuinely sorry as well, which was nice?

    I vomited on the floor.

    ¡°Don¡¯t move,¡± Tagashin told me as she drifted closer to the dead shape-changers. ¡°Even if you had no other injuries, I¡¯ll wager that the back of your head hitting the floor addled your brains some. Rest.¡±

    I looked at the smug Kitsun¨¦ floating in the air next to me, smirking as she idly poked the decaying shape-changer with her claw.

    ¡°They¡¯re kind of gooey, aren¡¯t they?¡± she said as she pulled a claw back, a glob of white flesh stuck on it with a string leading back to the dead shape-changer. ¡°Was this what they were made of, or just something that¡¯s comfortable to be?¡±

    ¡°Where have you been?¡± I asked tiredly as I got up, wincing as I put my weight on my hooves. No more strenuous activity until this leg is fully healed. Preferably after several straight days of warm baths, tea, and maybe being held by- no, no thinking about that right now.

    My legs buckled, and I hit the ground. Groaning, I tried crawling instead.

    ¡°Scouting,¡± Tagashin replied. ¡°I said to rest. Being your secret hidden weapon for when things went wrong. The basilisk would be beyond me, so I saw what else might be lurking out there, and behold, shape-changers!¡±

    ¡°You just didn¡¯t want to get petrified,¡± I muttered as I crawled over to the still roiling pile of flesh. Please let it be dead and not trying to reform itself.

    ¡°People rarely want to be petrified Malvia,¡± Tagashin snarked. ¡°And besides, in that confined of a space, illusion can only do so much. Doing much more would have meant prying back that magic-resistant hide on the basilisk¡¯s letting the magic work on its brain. But, by the time you¡¯d arranged that, you were already busy rotting out the rest of it.¡±

    ¡°So best just to pretend you ran away?¡± I said as I poked the puddle of flesh with my knife. It didn¡¯t react, continuing to writhe.

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s not my reputation being hurt,¡± Tagashin said. ¡°Besides, showing back up would lead to an immediately messy confrontation with the Captain. And also being away gave you a secret weapon the Changers didn¡¯t know about. And it turned out you needed one.¡±

    ¡°The elemental that showed up, was that you''re doing as well?¡± I was prying some of the flesh free of the pool with my knife. Two knives? Sometimes it was one and sometimes two, same with that strip of flesh I was cutting out. Its writhing ceased the moment it fully separated. We probably would need to torch this before we left, or something to ensure everything in here was dead.

    ¡°No,¡± Tagashin said, vulpine grin turned to a frown. ¡°No, I did not arrange that. Stop playing with that flesh. We have a living one to take strips out to study if we need to. No, the elemental being here wasn¡¯t my doing. And counting on it as coincidence is a fool¡¯s choice in this kind of game.¡±

    ¡°Life is chaos,¡± I countered. ¡°Not everything that happens is directly connected. And besides I¡­¡±

    I frowned. I¡¯d had a point on the tip of my tongue, but that thought had drifted off. Instead, I felt my stomach heave, and I was sick all over the dead remains of the shape-changers.

    ¡°That purge is wearing off,¡± Tagashin noted. ¡°You need to lie down and sit still.¡±

    ¡°Last changer,¡± I muttered.

    ¡°Is dead, killed them, or was chased off by that elemental? But you¡¯re right, someone should go check. Stay here, sleep. I¡¯ll leave an illusion over you, keep you safe till I come back. Just sleep.¡±

    The Kitsun¨¦ touched my shoulder and, with a shuddering breath, it felt like all the tension in my body departed. And with it went my ability to fight, to stay conscious. By all rights, I should be distrustful, being put to sleep by this fae creature in a tunnel by myself.

    Instead, all I felt was relief as I drifted off to slumber.

 Chapter 92 - Conversations over Tea I

    When I woke up, it was blinding.

    Light scoured my eyes, a searing brightness that felt like hot pokers being pushed into their sockets. Something moved near me, and I tried to scream. All that came out was a weak whine as my throat burned.

    I blinked tears out of my eyes, then wrenched them shut as the blinding light refused to stop shining. The inside of my head felt like a chisel being taped further into place with every second.

    ¡°Ah, Miss Harrow, you¡¯re awake,¡± a familiar voice said.

    I relaxed just a smidge. The ill-defined moving figure was not an enemy.

    ¡°Dr. Dawes,¡± I rasped out, a painful dryness in my throat forcing me into a coughing fit.

    ¡°Don¡¯t speak,¡± Dr. Dawes said. ¡°I have some tea for you if you could open your mouth?¡±

    Consider the burning running down my throat as my coughing died off. I was more than willing. I opened my mouth a little, and soon, I found a soothing drink with a fruity taste: green tea, one common in my homeland.

    After a few minutes and a few cups, I could open my eyes. The oppressive glare that I thought would burn them to nothing was the morning sun outside, shining merrily through the window. It had been morning when we¡¯d left for the Pureblood lair.

    We were in the little room I¡¯d set up near my lab in the attic. I was nestled between warm covers and a blanket, a bit of chilly morning air coming in from an open window. It was too bad the comforting warmth of the bedding was ruined by that chisel swinging in my brain and the irritancy in my eyes whenever I neared any light.

    I tried to get out of bed, only for Dawes to shake his head. Scowling as pain pulsed through, I decided to at least lift the cover.

    I paused as I lifted the covers, the chisel in my head swinging for one massive blow.

    Underneath them all, I wore a light green dress, a wrapper I would never be caught on the streets wearing. Frills. So many frills and ruffles. I¡¯d die the moment anyone I knew from the quarter.

    ¡°Tagashin,¡± Dawes said as a way of explanation.

    I¡­my clothing could be addressed at a much later date.

    I turned my attention to Dawes, eyes still watering, head still pounding, his face out of focus.

    ¡°How long?¡± I croaked, the pain in my voice faded enough for my words to come out, but still aching with each syllable.

    ¡°Three days,¡± he said, and I tensed. ¡°Don¡¯t worry too much. Outside of our brief excursion and its aftermath, not much else has happened. Well, some things happened, but nothing you can do about right now. Nothing you can do, given your injuries.¡±

    ¡°How bad?¡± I whispered, the lowered volume a little easier on my throat.

    ¡°Multiple injuries of various kinds across your body. Nothing is too badly injured, with one exception in that regard. Tagashin mentioned your head hitting the stone floor of the tunnel, and I¡¯m thinking a serious concussion. She mentioned vomiting. You¡¯re showing light sensitivity. I¡¯m guessing a headache as well?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± I admitted, as the chisel continued its slow work in splitting my brain apart. ¡°How bad do you think?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t witness it myself, and we¡¯ll need to brain a mage with some measure of biosculpting and diagnostician skills to check. A priest would probably do more harm than good. I think you might have suffered a coup-countercoup injury, bruising from the initial blow and then another on the opposite side when your brain hit the inside of your skull. You need to stay in bed, and probably for a few days, although I¡¯ll need you downstairs at least once.¡±

    That¡­.hells damn it, I needed to end this. But, the covers were so comfortable settling in and just sleeping had its appeal as well.

    ¡°What happened after the elemental?¡± I asked, settling for burrowing a little deeper into the covers.

    ¡°A few died,¡± Dawes said somberly. ¡°The shape-changer was busy with the elemental, but some poor souls got caught in their fighting. Malstein, myself, and seven others escaped the chaos. We journeyed the tunnels for a bit before Tagashin found us, pretending to be a helpful spirit. Took a while for Malstein to trust her, but she led us to where you were sleeping. We got out by late evening.¡±

    ¡°And what¡¯s happened since?¡±

    ¡°Shape-changers tried to break Hawkins out. Please don¡¯t move! He¡¯s still secure. They didn¡¯t get very far. Whoever their contact in the Watch is, it isn¡¯t the senior officer Malstein trusted with Hawkins. Another of them is dead.¡±

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    Three dead. One captured. Four dead if the one in the chimney counted. Ten left at this point? They were dropping like flies.

    ¡°The bishop?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Malstein is making the arrangements,¡± Dawes said. ¡°Storming in there and arresting her, especially if she is a shape-changer, would not be a good idea. And no, you will make nothing go faster by getting out of bed!¡±

    I tried to get up from the bed even as Dawes tried to stop me. A second later I was flat on my face against the floor, groaning as my teeth tasted wood.

    ¡°I told you not to do that,¡± Dawes said in exasperation as he grabbed me under my arms, dragging me back to the bed. ¡°You¡¯re too smart to not know what having a concussion means.¡±

    ¡°Wanted to test it myself,¡± I muttered. ¡°You could be Tagashin.¡±

    ¡°If I was Tagashin, I think I would have been putting something very different in that tea,¡± Dawes said. ¡°Do what the medical professional says and rest?¡±

    ¡°Depends. If Kalasyp has been brought to where we arranged, rest might not be in my near future,¡± I said, trying to use my tail to remove his hand only to realize I couldn¡¯t feel my fifth limb.

    Panicked, I tried to look back over my shoulder only to end up with my head pounding and hunched over, stomach trying to expel the tea I¡¯d just drank.

    ¡°Your tail¡¯s immobilized with a splint,¡± Dawes said calmly. ¡°Because it felt far too easy to move earlier. I¡¯m not sure what happened to it, but it doesn¡¯t look like anything you can¡¯t fix. Probably a clean break or maybe a fracture, which I hope the morphine is helping with. Should be an easy enough Sculpt once I¡¯m certain you are fully healed.¡±

    That was a relief. Still, other things to worry about.

    ¡°Kalaysp is here?¡± I asked.

    ¡°In the area,¡± Dawes said. ¡°We have him in the basement for now, but we¡¯ll want to move him, of course.¡±

    ¡°Not yet,¡± I muttered. ¡°Moving would be obvious. They¡¯ll be watching everywhere. You pulled off the switch? I¡¯m gonna be mad if you didn¡¯t. It¡¯s very important you did.¡±

    ¡°They did,¡± Dawes assured me. ¡°As far as all observers are concerned, two people went in, one came out. Malstein will wonder how it was pulled off, but he¡¯s the only other one who knows.¡±

    I relaxed. ¡°Good. I¡¯m going to sleep then.¡±

    Hopefully, it would still the chisel.

    ¡°Ah, sorry,¡± Dawes said apologetically. ¡°I, unfortunately, need you to head downstairs with me first.¡±

    ¡°I thought I was supposed to stay in bed?¡± I asked, trying to pull my covers back over myself.

    ¡°Ideally yes, but there is a guest who wants to see you,¡± Dawes said, and immediately my ears perked up. ¡°There¡¯s also more tea.¡±

    A guest? There was a whole range of possibilities, one of which excited me. But this dress, if he saw me in this frilly monstrosity? I didn¡¯t know whether to blush or feel excited at the possibility.

    Also, more tea.

    ¡°Is that keening noise you¡¯re making a yes or a no?¡± Dawes asked concernedly.

    ¡°Yes,¡± I said hurriedly.

    I nearly crashed into the floor again, but Dawes intercepted me and help me to the stairs and down with careful steps.

    ¡°Tagashin mentioned you figured out how to kill the Shape-changers?¡± Dawes asked as he helped me down the stairs.

    ¡°Core of life magic,¡± I replied. ¡°Should be impossible, but they¡¯ve got a life-generating magic right in their center. Powerful too, which makes it even more impossible to work.¡±

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t seem too impossible,¡± Dawes said. ¡°They draw on it to generate extra flesh and manipulate the existing flesh?¡±

    ¡°Yes, but for it to be this powerful, they should be constantly changing,¡± I said. ¡°Assuming concrete form should be impossible for them. They should constantly generate new flesh, and the shrinking should be impossible. Randomized effects. It¡¯s very difficult to control, it¡¯s why regeneration typically relies on having a discreet set shape to pour healing magic into. We need those notes.¡±

    Dr. Dawes shook his head. ¡°Miss Harrow, I doubt those contain that secret. Do you think Her Majesty would have failed to utilize such magic to protect her subjects if it was known?¡±

    Protect wouldn¡¯t be the word I used, but he had a fair point there.

    ¡°Fine, but at least it gives us a direction to go with Hawkins,¡± I said. ¡°He¡¯s probably been maintaining an outer shell for them to pry off while keeping his actual biology deep inside. Like a crab.¡±

    ¡°A crab?¡± Dawes asked. ¡°Perhaps not the best metaphor. Come on, just another flight of stairs and there¡¯s a full pot of tea.¡±

    ¡°And maybe a Montague?¡± I asked, my words slightly off as he helped me keep weight off my injured leg.

    He was silent for a few seconds, then said, ¡°This is a bad idea.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± I protested. ¡°This is a great idea if he¡¯s here.¡±

    His lips quirked. ¡°If it was him dragging you down like this might be a good idea. But it¡¯s not him.¡±

    I cocked my head, trying to think despite the pounding pain inside my skull. The guest wasn¡¯t Gregory, which was not my desired outcome, but who was it? And why did Dawes sound reluctant to do this?

    Was it a shape-changer? Had they found us already?

    ¡°Do they need to burn?¡± I whispered.

    ¡°No,¡± he snapped, then more slowly. ¡°No, they don¡¯t need to burn. I just think these are terrible circumstances to do this. Just¡­.try to concentrate.¡±

    Difficult with the chisel in my head, but I could give it a shot. We reached the bottom step.

    Tagashin was at the table drinking tea in the guise of Voltar, perusing what must be today¡¯s newspaper.

    ¡°Ah, Doctor. Thank you. I was about to ask if there was a way to rouse her early. Miss Harrow, please have a seat. We need to talk.¡±

    ¡°Tagashin, why are you Voltar?¡± I asked. ¡°It¡¯s just us and the doctor, and unless you are that worried about someone peeking through a window at exactly the right time, you can just not steal Voltar¡¯s body.¡±

    Tagashin didn¡¯t reply, simply raising an eyebrow and looking over at Dawes.

    ¡°I told you now would not be a good time,¡± the Doctor said. ¡°She had multiple injuries, including a concussion I¡¯m sure has inflicted coup-countercoup injuries. She should be in bed.¡±

    ¡°Unfortunately, we don¡¯t have that luxury,¡± Tagashin said. ¡°Not while I try to figure out what happened.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re the one who put me to sleep in the first place,¡± I protested. ¡°Besides, your Tagashin! What have you not found out just snooping around looking through everyone¡¯s things and following us around? It¡¯s why I booby-trapped my drawers, you pervert.¡±

    Dr. Dawes paled and then shook his head. ¡°Tagashin isn¡¯t in the house.¡±

    ¡°Huh, but she¡¯s right-¡± my voice faltered as my mind processed that, as currently injured as it was. Not Tagashin.

    ¡°We really must have a talk, Miss Harrow,¡± the master of the house said.

    Voltar. Worl-Empire¡¯s Greatest Detective. Who I¡¯d just called a pervert? And could likely have me thrown out to the Watch for much less.

    A feeling seized me, one I had no choice but to act on as I hunched over, a violently sick reaction taking over. I vomited all over the good doctor¡¯s shoes.

 Chapter 93 - Conversations Over Tea II

    After I¡¯d finished emptying the contents of my stomach all over poor Doctor Dawes¡¯ shoes, they¡¯d settled me down at the tea table. Voltar had cleaned it up and returned, while Dr. Dawes poured us all some tea.

    I hadn¡¯t tasted it yet, my fingers gripping the handle in a death grip as my gaze darted between the two. My head pounded, and it felt like the chair I was sitting in was swaying back and forth.

    If this was the worst, could I escape? I felt like just getting out of the chair would end me, and I hadn¡¯t even tried reaching for diabolism since I¡¯d woken up. My reserves must be still quite empty. And the Imp was quiet, which I¡¯d be thankful for except for the sense of foreboding accompanying the silence inside my skull.

    Voltar seemed content to let me speak first, merely continuing to browse the newspaper. Dawes had settled in at his side, pouring a cup for himself while I nervously nursed one of my own.

    They¡¯d at least drawn the lights and lit only a few candles, so their light didn¡¯t add too much to the pounding in my head. It also made it much more difficult to read both of their faces. And that feeling of a chisel being taken to my brain was only slightly alleviated.

    I finally worked up the carriage to say something.

    ¡°How was your time out of the city, Mr. Voltar?¡±

    Someone, please shoot me. Yes, engage in small talk related to some task Intelligence has required of him, Malvia. Brilliant.

    Voltar put down the newspaper, considering the question.

    ¡°Overall poorly. While I did what was asked, it was not a pleasant experience. I don¡¯t think I can be much more specific than that without talking to a few people first. The experience was not improved by various messages in my head from a mutual acquaintance of ours, among other things, telling me you had been made my apprentice.¡±

    ¡°I protested that,¡± I blurted out. ¡°Very strenuously.¡±

    ¡°By kicking who you thought was me in a very uncomfortable place,¡± Voltar noted. ¡°I¡¯ve talked to Doctor Dawes about the events of the last few weeks. I would have talked to Tagashin, but she has disappeared and can resist the mental urge to return to the house for a few more hours. She¡¯s likely trying to charter a train out of the city. She¡¯ll make it to the outskirt, at which point the fenceposts will lead to her being sent hurtling out of that train back into the city.¡±

    I cocked my head.

    ¡°Fenceposts? You managed to pen a Kitsun¨¦ in?¡±

    Not impossible, from what I could recall, but well beyond the capabilities of most individual mages.

    ¡°Imperial Intelligence has her penned in,¡± Voltar corrected me. ¡°I handle very little of that part of Tagashin¡¯s sentence. I¡¯m just who she is currently serving that sentence with.¡±

    ¡°Is my situation similar, or is it different?¡± I asked, glancing between the two of them.

    ¡°Dr. Dawes manages most of Intelligence¡¯s handling of me, Tagashin, and any others who fall into that category,¡± Voltar said firmly. ¡°I desire to have very little to do with it. I did ask that someone from the organization be here for this conversation, but it seems the feeling is mutual for right now.¡±

    Dawes looked distinctly uncomfortable while I tried dissecting that in my head. So, did Voltar and the primary point of contact for Imperial Intelligence not get along? And Voltar seemingly enough pull for that not to be an issue?

    Every little scrap I was fed on about how this worked only made it seem more complicated.

    ¡°Have they made their opinion on me known?¡± I asked, eyes flicking between the two of them.

    Voltar remained a well-mannered, polite stone in his bearing while Dawes relaxed just a smidgen.

    ¡°There is not really any talk of handing you over to the Watch or anything of that nature, Miss Harrow,¡± Doctor Dawes said.

    I sighed, a great weight off my shoulders with that statement. I wasn¡¯t destined to some cell in the Coffin.

    ¡°Mind you, if you disappoint Imperial Intelligence, the fate is much worse than what the Watch can inflict.¡±

    And there it was on my shoulders once again.

    ¡°Is that what this conversation is about?¡± I asked.

    Voltar snorted. ¡°Maybe if someone officially part of the organization was here. No, this is about what will happen regarding what Tagashin has said after this current mess is resolved.¡±

    ¡°Maybe that should take priority?¡± I suggested.

    ¡°It seems well in hand,¡± Voltar noted. ¡°Your methods of reaching where you stand are far more chaotic than I would prefer, but you seem to be progressing at an adequate pace.¡±

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    ¡®Adequate¡¯. Such a grand compliment. Almost enough to make a girl blush.

    ¡°I¡¯d argue circumstance forced chaos,¡± I said with gritted teeth. ¡°Far more than any method I decided to employ.¡±

    ¡°Willingly? No, that would be Tagashin¡¯s choice,¡± Voltar said. ¡°You should learn how to not be swept up in situations. But that is a discussion for another time. Perhaps never. Are you sure you don¡¯t want your tea? You¡¯ve been practically strangling that poor cup this entire time.¡±

    My eyes flicked down to the cup and the few splatters of tea on the tablecloth next to me.

    I slowly brought the cup to my lips and sipped, closing my eyes. Oh, that was unusual but familiar, and it tasted like warmth and comfort in grassy, nutty overtones being poured into my mouth. It felt like-

    My eyes snapped open, staring right at Voltar.

    ¡°How did you know what kind of tea I drank as a child?¡± I asked with slow deliberateness.

    ¡°I¡¯ve shared tea with your grandfather a few times in the past,¡± Voltar said. ¡°He had a few specific blends he preferred, and I doubted his family would be encouraged to drink any other kind.¡±

    That was quite accurate, as I slowly set the cup down.

    ¡°You ruined tea,¡± I muttered. ¡°Why does everyone have to ruin tea? Can¡¯t I just have tea in peace?¡± A random thought occurred to me about the topic of tea being ruined. ¡°You put nothing in this, did you?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Voltar answered evenly. ¡°Unnecessary. But to go back to our earlier topic, this conversation will not decide if Intelligence will throw you to the wolves. They don¡¯t have enough Diabolists that they¡¯ll turn any down, especially one with such potential. No, this conversation will decide if I¡¯m willing to have you work with me in the future.¡±

    ¡°Implying that Tagashin is more tolerable than I am?¡± I asked.

    ¡°She¡¯s harmless,¡± Voltar said. ¡°Her tendency to needle and cause major scandals aside, I¡¯m not worried about her shooting someone in the head or deciding the best way to get an answer is threatening to bite someone¡¯s fingers off.¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have actually bitten him,¡± I muttered. How had he even found out? ¡°I just needed his cooperation in a hurry. Torture is a poor tool for getting answers, anyway.¡±

    ¡°I am very relieved your reluctance to use torture is entirely based on how efficient it is,¡± Voltar told me. ¡°That doesn¡¯t give me much confidence about you not using it for other purposes. Let me be clear, Miss Harrow. We rarely met in person when I was meddling in your brother¡¯s affairs, but I¡¯m more than familiar with acts associated with you. They do not leave a good impression.¡±

    ¡°And does leaving my brother also not leave a good impression?¡± I snapped, putting the teacup down. ¡°I left, stayed away, did not practice diabolism, hardly did anything illegal for five years. I made it hurt myself to practice diabolism, and if it wasn¡¯t for this mess, would still be there.¡±

    Voltar paused, then sighed.

    ¡°Miss Harrow,¡± he said steadily. ¡°Let me be clear. This is not an interrogation, or a castigation necessarily. At worst, I decide we are not a good fit for working together.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s also not at her best,¡± Dawes said. ¡°I told you this should wait till she healed.¡±

    ¡°If she is impossible to work with at her worst, her best is irrelevant,¡± Voltar replied to him before turning his attention back towards me. ¡°Is that clear enough?¡±

    He..he was right. Snapping at him would not serve any purpose, as tempting as it was to spit bile. The pounding on the inside of my skull made that tempting, but it would cause things being worse for me. I nodded.

    ¡°I¡¯m willing to abide by any rules set for me,¡± I said.

    ¡°You want to work with me, then?¡± Voltar asked. ¡°Because frankly, you can head off on your own and Intelligence can fit you in with one of their other small groups across the city.¡±

    That¡­hrrm. That was also true. And a fair point. A start not exactly free of my baggage, but close enough? Still, it didn¡¯t feel right.

    ¡°I¡¯d rather stick here,¡± I said. ¡°Here is familiar enough. If possible.¡±

    ¡°She gets along well with Tagashin,¡± Dawes offered.

    I had been finally taking another sip of my tea when he said that. Hot tea spraying across the table, I sputtered.

    ¡°Excuse me? Get along with her?¡±

    ¡°Comparatively well,¡± Dawes clarified. ¡°You get along better than some others she¡¯s worked with alongside us in the past.¡±

    I didn¡¯t believe that at all, but moving past it.

    ¡°I¡¯m willing to accept whatever rules you wish of me,¡± I said.

    ¡°Including dropping your practice of Diabolism?¡± Voltar asked.

    I paused and waited. The Imp did not speak.

    ¡°Your passenger is asleep,¡± Voltar told me. ¡°I don¡¯t know the specifics, but Dawes has theories about which parts of your cognition it utilizes. It will not hear your answer.¡±

    ¡°I stopped using it once,¡± I said. ¡°I can do it again.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps not with the entire bit of melting your body down for fuel if you do,¡± Dawes commented.

    ¡°Some things require extreme measures to end,¡± I replied. ¡°Is that satisfactory?¡±

    Voltar nodded slightly. ¡°For now. Apprentice is too much, but I will use you as a consultant on cases till I come to a further answer. At least to the end of two more after this one. Also, may I ask a question of you?¡±

    ¡°Works for me, and sure.¡±

    ¡°When was the last time you talked to Giovanni Versalicci?¡± Voltar asked.

    ¡°Shortly before Lord Montague¡¯s party, which was not my idea,¡± I said. ¡°Before then? Shortly before I faked my death.¡±

    ¡°Hrrm. Anything of interest?¡±

    I paused, thinking back. It had been ages since I¡¯d considered that conversation.

    ¡°Not really,¡± I said. ¡°He never opened up to any of us fully, so in hindsight, his talk of taking as many of you with him as some final glorious strike on behalf of Infernal-kin was likely just lies. He kept on claiming he had a ritual to bring forth our father, but that is also unlikely.¡±

    ¡°Hrrm, from my understandings of your arts, I concur. Very little contact since?¡±

    ¡°Direct? No. Indirect, I am having some thoughts on. Can I ask a question?¡±

    ¡°Certainly.¡±

    ¡°Have we actually met before now?¡±

    ¡°We have talked twice, briefly. The last time we met was in your apartment when I wanted you to test a vial of Angel¡¯s Sorrow. And see if you would use the Diabolic arts on me afterward.¡±

    I nodded. I couldn¡¯t say for sure if that was when Tagashin¡¯s less than stellar impersonation had begun, carried only by glamour. It felt like a truth, though.

    ¡°So,¡± I said slowly, taking another sip of tea. It helped calm that pounding inside my head just a tad. ¡°What do we do next?¡±

    ¡°You rest,¡± Voltar informed me. ¡°I have someone coming in the morning to inspect inside your head. No insult intended doctor, I have full confidence in your skills, but-¡±

    ¡°I cannot look inside people¡¯s skulls,¡± Dawes finished for him. ¡°No worries. But I do share Miss Harrow¡¯s curiosity. What comes next?¡±

    ¡°Well, for right now the Watch has a bishop to handle, we must resolve the unfortunate alchemist you¡¯ve taken away from them, and I must go track down a fox,¡± Voltar said. ¡°But after? I want to invite Lord Montague and Lady Karsin over for tea.¡±

 Chapter 94 - Conversations Over Tea III

    The next morning, my head felt much better.

    At least by now, it felt like a mere needle plumbing in the depths of my grey matter to cause me pain. Still an agonizing feeling, but less than the chisel that had been attempting to split it in twain the day before.

    I kept the curtains drawn, though. Light still hurt my eyes, and even the lantern I was currently using was only tolerable when kept outside of my view. Hopefully, this would fade as fast as the pain in my head. My errant thought about just permanently adjusting them to see in the dark shouldn¡¯t come true because darkness was all I could tolerate.

    Meanwhile, the pain in my head fading had brought something else back with it.

    You are certain that is all that was said between you three? The Imp questioned me once again.

    ¡°For the fifth time, yes,¡± I replied irritably.

    I sighed as I put on the bodice of the plain brown dress I¡¯d picked out for the day. Tagashin had at least left me other clothes and restricted her prank to just dressing me in that frilly wrapper, which now sat at the very bottom of one of my drawers, hidden under as many other clothes as I could fit in there.

    The Imp chewed on my answer for only a second less than it had the previous four times before speaking in my mind again.

    You recounted it precisely as-

    ¡°Yes!¡± I snapped as I finished. ¡°Or at least close enough that any differences should not matter!¡±

    The Imp reawakening in the middle of my quiet supper up here had resulted in both a spilled bowl of soup and its awareness there had been a time where I¡¯d been aware and it had not. It was reacting poorly to this idea and had been interrogating me about what had happened during that time, and not taking my answers well.

    Infuriatingly, outside of my willingness to end my practice of Diabolism, I¡¯d shared all details of my conversation with Voltar and Dawes. Unfortunately, the Imp seemed unwilling to believe in the secretiveness of the Empire¡¯s Greatest Detective.

    Voltar simply said he¡¯d have them over for tea and spent the rest of the time discussing tea blends?

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    Impossible. No one can spend two hours discussing tea!

    I rolled my eyes. ¡°People have different interests, sometimes they intersect and cause discussion. But yes, his refusal to discuss the subject more at the time was infuriating. Although he does have a good reason.¡±

    He doesn¡¯t trust you, the Imp observed.

    ¡°Of course he doesn¡¯t. He¡¯s returned to his home to find one he considered an enemy welcomed in without his permission. I¡¯m astonished he¡¯s being this lenient with me. And besides, the reason was waiting to have someone look at my head, which is much bet-¡±

    I paused. A door had opened down below, and I could hear the tread of shoes heading towards the attic stairs. Far too loudly, each step echoing inside my head.

    ¡°Company,¡± I muttered. ¡°Do me a favor and keep the commentary to a minimum for now?¡±

    The Imp did not respond, which I would take as assent. There was a polite knock at the door.

    ¡°I¡¯m decent,¡± I said. I was sitting on the side of the bed, standing up felt too unbalancing for right now.

    The door opened, and Voltar came in, followed by a clean-shaven dwarf with a monocle lugging a suitcase almost as large as he was.

    ¡°Too dark,¡± the dwarf said irritably, moving over to the window.

    Before I could even articulate a protest, he threw my curtains open and my world was nothing but pain and blinding light as I tried to find the safety of my covers.

    ¡°Halivik,¡± Voltar said chidingly. ¡°I told you she likely has a concussion and you just open the curtains?¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t work in no light,¡± the Dwarf grumbled. ¡°Apologies though. Gonna try to make this better. Assuming your brain doesn¡¯t melt.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± I said from underneath what felt like my covers. ¡°That sounds wonderful! What are you going to do to me?¡±

    ¡°Attach a device. See what part of the brain is most affected? Maybe tinker around and see if I can alleviate some symptoms.¡±

    ¡°Tinker around,¡± I repeated. ¡°With my brain. I¡¯m going to say no to that!¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s used it before, Miss Harrow,¡± Voltar told me. ¡°The incident described was years before now, and involved someone who was ver-¡±

    ¡°No,¡± I said firmly. ¡°You can see what the extent of the injury is. You are not messing around with it.¡±

    After a few more attempts to cajole me, I was back to sitting on the edge of the bed while Halivik attached something that weighed far too much onto my head. It fit awkwardly around my horns, the sounds of moving gears far too loud. Mumbling the entire time about how cellular degeneration rates from the machine weren¡¯t too high, which did wonders for my confidence.

    My eyes slowly adjusted to the light, and while they still watered, by the time he was done I could at least see.

    ¡°Dr. Dawes was correct in diagnosing coup-countercoup injuries,¡± Halivik said as he began unstrapping the device from my head. ¡°She should recover over time. Nothing strenuous physically. Lots of bed rest. Unless she will let me adjust brain-¡±

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°No,¡± I repeated as he put the device back in the suitcase, it resembling some nightmarish mixture of knight¡¯s helm and torture device.

    ¡°Your loss. Call anytime, Mr. Voltar, as long as the money is good.¡±

    ¡°Bit of an odd bird,¡± I said a minute after the dwarf had left.

    Voltar chuckled. ¡°Think of what some of my associates say about you.¡±

    Oh. True. But, since Mr. Voltar was already here and seemingly in a mood to talk, time to change the subject.

    I cleared my throat.

    ¡°Mr. Voltar, you mentioned getting both Lord Montague and Lady Karsin over for tea? I¡¯ll admit to being at a loss on how you mean to accomplish this.¡±

    Lord Montague had already tired of Voltar, or Tagashin as Voltar, well before he probably assumed control of the Shape-changers. His desire to avoid Voltar would have only increased since then. Lady Karsin would be even less likely.

    ¡°A good question Miss Harrow. Let me ask you, how would you accomplish this?¡±

    I frowned, not enthused by having my question flipped on me. A test? Curse that Kitsune for making me pay for a random comment of hers.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to assume that threatening them or a loved one at gunpoint would not be ideal,¡± I said.

    ¡°Definitely not. Please, even in jest, such notions are impolite to suggest.¡±

    I resisted the urge to snort. I had read several of the publicized accounts from Dawes of Voltar¡¯s cases. Impolite to suggest too openly, maybe.

    ¡°When trying to entice people hostile to you, you arm the trap with something worth the risk,¡± I said. ¡°Cheese for rats, but I imagine when scaling the concept to nobles, a very different cheese is required. Perhaps one of those fancy ones from Aarineau?¡±

    ¡°People,¡± Voltar corrected. ¡°Nobles are ultimately people, with as wide of an array of thoughts and viewpoints. They certainly have one¡¯s unique to their social grouping, but no different from any other. But you are on the right track. What do they want that we have to offer?¡±

    ¡°Our lives,¡± I said. ¡°We are some of the few people who are actively looking into this. Taking us off the board rids them of the threat we offer. So we should probably expect shape-changers in their place. Well, a different one from Lady Karsin for her.¡±

    ¡°They won¡¯t try to kill us,¡± Voltar replied. ¡°Even if they were confident in our abilities to do so, there are much better times to try as such, and doing so would easily give away their complicity. Although Lord Montague already plays with fire by not trying to cut himself out of this game. Enough evidence has been left around of his complicity that even if he betrayed the shape-changers in such a way that made it appear he had no dealing with them, eyes will be on him for years, potentially decades, to follow.¡±

    ¡°That still leaves us with the issue of having nothing to bait our trap with,¡± I said. ¡°Unless you somehow have gotten Tarry¡¯s notes from the archives.¡±

    Voltar chuckled. ¡°Oh, I think my head would be soon destined to pike if I did anything like that. But we have something to pique their interest. Alice Skall.¡±

    My lips pursed together, a protest about how we did not on the tip of my tongue, but I forced myself to think.

    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t want me to sculpt myself into her,¡± I mused. ¡°Or Katheryn Falara. They already suspect me of being her, assuming the younger Montagues kept it to themselves. Tagashin then?¡±

    ¡°Tagashin,¡± Voltar confirmed. ¡°I wish to rattle their confidence. Having what they believe to be truth proven false should do nicely.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve ¡®died¡¯ at least once so far, and whoever tipped them off about Malstein¡¯s raid probably told them I went with him,¡± I countered. ¡°They can probably guess we have someone with the ability to change shapes working alongside us.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Voltar said. ¡°They have to wonder who that might be, though.¡±

    Ah. One piece fell into place.

    ¡°You mean to make them think Hawkins has turned on them?¡±

    ¡°Yes, or at least expand on a thought that must already have occurred to one of them,¡± Voltar confirmed. ¡°I expect their minds will fill in what the worse possible results of that might be. And they¡¯ll act accordingly.¡±

    ¡°Ah, so you mean to use my trap as well?¡± I said. ¡°How relevant do you consider the bait, though?¡±

    Voltar paused, thinking for a few seconds.

    ¡°It¡¯s perhaps not the greatest piece in their plan, but it¡¯s enough I think they¡¯ll move on it. And it is a more violent trap than I would wish, but it¡¯ll do. Shape-changers might be tricky to subdue. With Hawkins, you managed it, but not any others.¡±

    I scowled. ¡°I didn¡¯t have as much choice as the others. But essentially, even a core of magic has its limits. They cannot store power, or manipulate its output, just simply generate it. The cores will vary in the amount, always within a certain range but ultimately limited. The shape changers themselves can store some, but it would be inefficient and limited. In Hawkins¡¯ case, I exhausted his reserves and the amount of life energy his core generated, forcing it to save some minimal power for keeping him alive and ejecting him from the ruined shell. With the other two, I sent diabolic magic designed to degrade life into the cores themselves. With Hawkins I cut his tendons, with the other two I stabbed their hearts.¡±

    ¡°How difficult it is to cut tendons then?¡± Voltar said. ¡°I¡¯d prefer them alive instead of dead. We need more than the one alive.¡±

    I frowned. ¡°We have Hawkins. We have what I¡¯d argue to be very good suspects for the masterminds behind this. Honestly, while I understand being cautious because they are nobility, I¡¯d argue we¡¯ve fingered the culprits well.¡±

    Voltar grimaced. ¡°One can never be certain, Miss Harrow. But besides that, we need exact numbers on the shape-changers in the city. Even one unaccounted for could be disastrous later on.¡±

    True enough.

    ¡°I¡¯m assuming you¡¯ll want me there as well?¡± I asked. ¡°As evidence that I am not Katheryn Falara?¡±

    ¡°Yes, but there¡¯s something else that needs to be addressed first,¡± Voltar said, retrieving a letter from within his coat and passing it to me. ¡°This arrived for you while you were unconscious. I didn¡¯t mention it yesterday because you seemed in quite the state already.¡±

    Frowning, I undid the seal and started reading. Halfway through, my blood felt like it was boiling, and by the end, it had cooled. Infuriating, but empty, threats. Phrased just the right way to make me feel an impotent anger I didn¡¯t need to experience anymore.

    I stared at the paper, eyeing the contents before looking at Voltar.

    ¡°You want me to handle this now?¡± I asked. ¡°I thought things were frozen regarding this.¡±

    ¡°Frozen, yes, but unresolved. And unresolved matters have a case of coming back when they are least wanted.¡±

    I sighed. I couldn¡¯t deny that. And putting if off even longer would only result in this conversation becoming more difficult, not less. Mind you, I wanted to be in a better state for it, a light pounding still hammered at the foundations of my mind.

    It was still a meeting I did not want to have. But sometimes wants met with reality and clashed. It was time to go see mother soon, anyway.

    ***

    It was weird revisiting the hospital. People I knew acting like I was a stranger. The underlying fear and anxiety that had been there for Katheryn as well, but not to this extent. Was it because they¡¯d grown used to Katheryn, or that the news about her being a secret diabolist had spread so far? They would know I was her associate, she¡¯d been my appointee to check on my mother.

    My mother lay in her bed, as unresponsive as she¡¯d been these last eight years. I¡¯d gripped her hand, the warmth the only sign besides the slight movement of her chest I was next to a living human and not a corpse.

    I noticed when he entered the room, moving to the other side of the bed. I ignored him till he¡¯d sat down, the chair creaking under his weight. I glanced up.

    His face was drawn in a tight scowl. Oh, he was angry. Good, at least I had inspired some reaction from him besides paternalistic concern and scolding.

    He seemed to wait for me to speak first. I was tempted to just wait and see if that cooled his anger, but it might stoke those fires instead.

    Besides, I¡¯d been putting this off for years now.

    ¡°Hello, Uncle Liu.¡±

 Chapter 95 - Conversations over Tea IV

    ¡°Lily,¡± my uncle replied stiffly. ¡°You finally show your face after abandoning your family for five years? After leaving the care of your mother to a diabolism-wielding lunatic, it¡¯s only after your ill judgment is revealed that you dare come back?¡±

    I breathed out, forcing slow breaths. My care for this man¡¯s approval had ended a long time ago, so best to ignore any urgings, telling me to feel shame over whatever he said.

    ¡°We didn¡¯t abandon you, Uncle,¡± I replied.

    I despised him for phrasing it like that. As if he hadn¡¯t forcibly escorted us to the quarter. Not that we would have had any choice on that latter part, even without the implicit threat of my uncle. Back then, Infernals weren¡¯t allowed outside of the Quarter without a license from the government or being supported by a family outside. Disowning my mother would have meant we were destined there, regardless. Ultimately irrelevant.

    His already tense face tensed further, but after a second he relaxed and all anger seemed to vanish. I wasn¡¯t the only one who could assume masks.

    ¡°Your anger is understandable if misplaced,¡± he said. ¡°There is blame on both sides for what occurred, but I will not tolerate your disrespect.¡±

    ¡°Both sides?¡± I hissed. ¡°You threw us out on the street and you want to blame us for it? What, did my horns get too large for you all to ignore what I was?¡±

    ¡°Do not show me disrespect, child!¡± My uncle spat back, switching to a language I hadn¡¯t practiced for years. ¡°You have a child¡¯s understanding of what has happened and refuse to let go of that child¡¯s view of this!¡±

    ¡°Oh, because you and the rest of the family are so willing to explain what occurred,¡± I spat back, keeping to Anglean even as the staff looked our way. If he hoped to not make a scene by keeping our fight in a language they couldn¡¯t understand, he¡¯d be sorely disappointed.

    ¡°You never wanted to know more,¡± my uncle spat back, refusing to switch back to Anglean. Obstinate bastard. I wasn¡¯t changing to a language I barely remembered and honestly might be mishearing.

    ¡°And when was I offered the opportunity to learn more?¡± I said. ¡°When did any of you deign to visit me or mother in our exile? Could none of you work up the courage to travel the paltry miles over to even see if we lived or not? Or did you just think us dead till I showed up on your doorstep and refused to leave?¡±

    ¡°I argued against your inclusion in the punishment for your mother¡¯s crimes. That your heritage and who you were descended from had no impact on who you were. Exile was the compromise to having your head removed before you became a threat!¡±

    We were off both our chairs by now, heads only inches from each other¡¯s faces. Staff looked on, nervously eyeing the doors. We were perhaps a couple of minutes away from the hospital security tossing us both out of the building. Assuming they could.

    I¡¯d taken an alchemical earlier to improve my balance, even so, I swayed a little from side to side. The floor felt uneven, but that did not cow me in the slightest.

    I didn¡¯t need weapons to be lethal. If memory served correctly, neither did my uncle.

    ¡°So you admit they wanted me dead,¡± I said quietly, changing languages if only so none of the staff would stupidly try to stop either of us. ¡°You admit they wanted to murder me for the crime of being born, then?¡±

    ¡°Father would never have allowed it, and did not allow it,¡± Liu said, face stoney. ¡°And once again, you ignore the most important parts. The unfortunate realities of your heritage would have been ignored if not for the crimes of your mother.¡±

    My lips quirked. ¡°The ¡®unfortunate realities of my heritage¡¯? Don¡¯t obfuscate it. Tell me, would it have been better if he¡¯d been Keltish or Anglean?¡±

    ¡°Obviously, yes, do not be ridiculous. And stop ignoring me, child. Your mother committed crimes against all of us, yourself included. Your exile is entirely her fault.¡±

    ¡°And considering my crime is being born, how serious was hers?¡± I said. ¡°My heritage brings me death. How much lesser was her crime to deserve exile? Or for you to decide to help me when I brought her out of the Quarter in her current state?¡±

    Liu paused, a retort on the tip of his tongue, but something held him back. It took a few seconds for him to compose his disappointing answer.

    ¡°It is not for me to tell you, child. If you wish answers, you will return to our family home, and your grandfather-¡±

    ¡°Can come to where I currently live,¡± I said, and Liu bristled at the interruption, but I continued onwards before he could protest. ¡°I will be happy to provide the address, and the visiting hours, although I should warn you I am hardly the most dangerous thing currently living there.¡±

    ¡°Have you no sense of respect?¡± My Uncle spared a glance at where the staff had been, all of them having long since left. ¡°Do you wish to make us your enemies, Lily?¡±

    I rolled my eyes. ¡°If you insist on becoming mine? Go ahead. Liu, I came here because my colleagues insist I dealt with you pestering the Imperial Government of removing me as one of Mother¡¯s guardians.¡±

    ¡°By colleagues, you mean that pack of criminal scum from the quarter,¡± Liu growled. ¡°Out of respect for your privacy, we have not used that fact, but if it comes to it, we will not hesitate.¡±

    Oh. They had told none of them? I suppose that made sense that my tentative membership among Intelligence¡¯s¡­.contractors? People of interest? Whichever it was, it made sense my mother¡¯s family had not been told.

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    ¡°Uncle, I have not been a member of Versalicci¡¯s organization for five years now. I do work for Her Majesty¡¯s government, and they are well aware of my prior work.¡±

    Liu froze, the expression of anger crystallizing on his face as he processed that. If he assumed all five of those years had been spent working for the Anglean Empire, I wasn¡¯t in a hurry to disabuse him of that notion.

    ¡°You work for Her Majesty?¡± He asked slowly.

    ¡°It¡¯s not like I sit with her for tea, but I do my part,¡± I said. ¡°If you want, you can thank Auntie Diwei for her help at Lord Montague¡¯s party on my behalf. I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll be thrilled to learn she helped the Queen in some way.¡±

    Liu froze a little at that.

    ¡°The shape-changer situation,¡± he said. ¡°You are involved in that?¡±

    ¡°Heavily,¡± I said. ¡°Didn¡¯t you hear? I died at a tea party recently because of it.¡±

    His scowl deepened. ¡°Enough jokes, Lily.¡±

    ¡°Not a joke. I was supposed to die,¡± I said. ¡°If not for some extenuating circumstances, I would have. Luckily, someone else was there to pretend to be dead for me.¡±

    He frowned, a retort on the tip of his tongue, but he seemingly swallowed it.

    ¡°Uncle, I¡¯m here because others insisted,¡± I told him. ¡°You have nothing to threaten me with over custody of mother. The government does. I fully expect they¡¯ll use the threat of turning Mother over to you or me over to Auntie Diwei to keep me in line, but that¡¯s when they decide, not either of us. Mind you, my answer to that will always be no. Even if I¡¯m a corpse in the ground, you do not get your hands on her.¡±

    ¡°You do not want to make enemies of us, Lily,¡± Liu said quietly. ¡°I am the most reluctant to make that the case, and grandfather, but his patience is limited.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to be enemies,¡± I said. ¡°But I hardly feel that obligates me to obey the instructions and requests of a group of people who made it very clear what they think of me. Speaking of requests, before she went entirely off the deep end, Alice mentioned you wanted to see me. Why?¡±

    ¡°There is¡­a talk that must be had. Not here though.¡± Liu looked at the walls cautiously, as if they would sprout ears when he wasn¡¯t looking. He wasn¡¯t wrong to fear that. I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if the hospital administrators didn¡¯t listen in on any conversation they could get away with.

    ¡°Then you have my address whenever you want it,¡± I said. ¡°The home of the detective I work with.¡±

    ¡°Ah, because the home of a detective is the best place to have a private conversation.¡±

    I inclined my head. It was a fair point.

    ¡°A neutral place then,¡± I said. ¡°One we can both agree on. Just you?¡±

    ¡°There needs to be one other,¡± Liu said. ¡°It does not need to be immediate, but we were worried you¡¯d fled overseas.¡±

    ¡°Fled?¡±

    ¡°My sister is many things. Subtle she is not.¡±

    ¡°Able to see what is right under her nose either as well,¡± I muttered. ¡°Do give her my thanks for helping me at the party.¡±

    ¡°You choose to live a very dangerous life, niece,¡± he said disapprovingly.

    ¡°It¡¯s the best kind of life to live,¡± I answered, while behind him the doors flung open, letting in a flood of staff led by one of the hospital administrators.

    ***

    Uncle Liu had declined to make a scene, so I was allowed to stay after he left.

    Mother seemed as untroubled as ever. Her daughter and brother fighting over her body bothered her not in the slightest.

    ¡°This is not Diabolism?¡± I murmured to myself. The staff maintained a healthy distance, but it was still best to keep my voice low and phrased in a way that could just be questioning me.

    It could be, it could not be, the Imp said. Untrained and unsuited eyes are a poor tool to find out. You could touch and let that inferior magic you insisted on learning to do your seeing for you.

    ¡°Ah yes,¡± I deadpanned. ¡°I could do that. If reaching into someone¡¯s unconscious body with Biosculpting wasn¡¯t already dangerous enough, let me reach into someone under an unknown curse. Brilliant idea Malvia.¡±

    I dropped that line of thought and ignored the Imp¡¯s protests over that dismissal. There were more pressing concerns and my mother¡¯s situation¡­.I doubted I was any closer to solving it now than the day I found her. Immediate survival took priority.

    I did not have confidence in Voltar¡¯s plan. Oh, it seemed sensible enough on the surface, but the dangling bait of Alice wouldn¡¯t do much. Oh, it would unbalance them, but at the end of the day would they care too much?

    What would they do? Lord Montague had tried to kill me and Gregory. Logically, from there he would have gone straight on to Voltar and Dawes. That fit with his nature. The man wanted this problem to end. It probably chaffed him as much as the shape-changers that he was working with them.

    That raised the question of the son they tried to kill. I frowned as I considered that thread.

    Assuming the father had not killed the son, the most likely answer for his continued absence was being hidden away on that third floor. Probably a personality shift the father could not tolerate, or maybe even physical. Keep him on the third floor where he had been stuck, anyway. Anyone trying to infiltrate had to deal with the guardian spirit in that damn dragon statue.

    Thinking about that dislodged another thought, one that I quickly seized upon. Dragons. There was an angle there. An altogether unpleasant angle, but one that was appealing. After all, there was an old saying about power and privilege.

    I gave my mother¡¯s hand a squeeze.

    ¡°Someday, I¡¯ll figure out how to wake you up,¡± I whispered, and then stood up.

    I was unsteady on my feet, swaying a little back and forth. The alchemical couldn¡¯t alleviate all of that, but I could manage down to the coach. Time to see if they¡¯d take me somewhere besides Voltar¡¯s properties.

    ***

    I had to give it to the drake. He knew how to be ostentatious with very little.

    The estate in front of me was perhaps a third the size of Lord Montague¡¯s, but made up for it in the sheer number of details. It honestly was overwhelming to the point individual details were hard to pick out, just a sea of statues, carved stonework, and stained glass windows. It was a chaotic jumble of wealth being displayed.

    Then again, going by the owner¡¯s lifespan, he was barely out of his teens.

    I walked over to the front door, grabbed the knocker shaped like a flame dragon¡¯s mouth, and hit the door thrice.

    The butler who answered was dressed in red livery as well, the clothing done up to make it look like flames were covering half his body. They moved as well, illusionary spellwork in the thread. Someone really liked showing off their wealth.

    ¡°Hello,¡± I said eagerly to the butler opening the door, his confused expression deepening as I continued to speak. ¡°My name is Malvia Harrow, and I believe your master might be interested in hearing who arranged the death of his sister.¡±

    I, of course, had no evidence that the drake Millicent Ferguseous Valicent had been killed by the shape-changers. However, the timing of the death made little sense without that being the case. Either they¡¯d waited for one to die, or they¡¯d arranged it themselves. Given other factors they had to wait on, I was betting on the latter.

    ¡°I¡­.excuse me?¡± the butler said, flustered and glancing back towards a security guard. Was that full-plate armor? It must cost a minor fortune to be enchanted to stand up to firearms. I suppose if you are rich and want to live in an environment resembling more familiar times, you¡¯d be willing to shell out some money.

    ¡°Your master? This is the home of the Honorable Jasperax Veroctous Valicent, is it not?¡±

    Honestly, the name felt like a joke, Anglean mixed with Draconic into garbled nonsense, but it was the fashion among the draconic races.

    ¡°It is,¡± the butler said as the guard came closer, hand reaching for a hefty mace. ¡°How do you know any details of his sister¡¯s death.¡±

    I gave them both my best grin. ¡°I was the one they got to dig up the corpse and desecrate it.¡±

 Chapter 96 - Conversations over Tea V

    By the time the multiple guards who joined the first had finished, I was actually still in better shape than when Melissa had worked me over.

    Oh sure, every inch of my face ached, but they¡¯d managed to not break my nose, or an orbital bone. I had my teeth, and I wasn¡¯t drooling blood out onto the carpet when two of the guards carried me into the drawing room. Harp music played as they pulled me over to the sofa.

    Three others waited inside, two of them too occupied with their own tasks while the third sat in the middle of a sofa, staring intently at me as the guard deposited me in the chair opposite him.

    Dressed in an ornate suit of black and white, eyes of pure silver gleaming, it actually ached a little to look at him. A face that looked like it had been chiseled out of stone by a craftsman dedicated to not having a single mistake in their work. Drake.

    His companions were as well, their human forms an ethereally beautiful woman currently focused on gently strumming a harp, while the other was a dignified older man engrossed in a book. Their own eyes glowed different metallic colors, and with how the eye was nothing but that color, they could be as easily looking at me instead of being engrossed in their tasks.

    ¡°Well,¡± the silver-eyed drake said. ¡°A person comes to my house intent on telling me about how she desecrated the body of my dearly departed sister. Demands an audience practically, to tell me of the desecrations, and claiming to know more that it thinks my ears wish to hear. Do you have more, infernal?¡±

    Well, at least it wasn¡¯t foulhorn. I coughed, trying to clear my throat, and the drake who must be Valicent nodded.

    ¡°Of course, we are a little remiss of my duties as host, I suppose. Edwin, fetch some of the tea we had brewing. Maybe it¡¯ll clear our guests¡¯ systems some.¡±

    I muttered a thanks as I tried to keep any blood from falling on the ground. Appearance was everything with draconics, and I would not irritate them by bleeding over their floor.

    Within minutes, I had a hot cup in front of me, and with shaky hands, I took a sip.

    My taste buds sang. This was green tea, earthy in taste, but it felt like someone had poured a star right into my tongue. Not in the searing heat way, but there was a taste, beneath the earthiness that felt like sheer starlight poured into a cup. The earthiness faded away, replaced with a sheer sensation I just could not place.

    I couldn¡¯t understand why my mind went to that as I kept on sipping, unable to put the cup down till I¡¯d drained every drop of the drink. My mind remained in the cosmos still.

    ¡°So, Infernal,¡± Valicent said. ¡°You said you had a story to tell about the death of my sister. How about you begin?¡±

    I coughed, clearing my throat.

    ¡°My involvement in this case, and specifically your sister¡¯s death, begins with a tip I received from a contact I buy alchemical supplies from-¡±

    ***

    All told, it took two hours to tell the entire story, plus the questions Valicent has asked. He had done me the service of waiting till my story was over before bombarding me with a variety of questions about what had occurred. I told the truth about those I could afford to, deflected on others, and left some simply unanswered.

    By the end of it he stared at me, eyes narrowed. His first companion still lazily played the harp, the second still seemingly occupied with his book. Neither fooled me. They¡¯d been paying just as much attention.

    ¡°You are lying,¡± Valicent finally said in an even tone.

    ¡°Of course I am,¡± I said back, taking another sip of the tea. Hells I¡¯d kill for this. How hard would it be to break into the kitchen? I mean, sure, angry dragons, but surely their anger could be doused in the shared love of herbal drinks between all sentient life.

    No wait, these were dragons. They would jealously hoard their tea for as long as they could.

    ¡°A bold admission,¡± the one reading the book said, looking up from it. ¡°Especially for one in the situation you have put yourself in.¡±

    I shrugged. ¡°Is it? You will figure I am doing so anyway, and admitting it just puts it out in the open. The real question is, was what I was lying about relevant to what is your concern?¡±

    ¡°And what is our concern, little horned one?¡± The harp-player asked, finally pausing her melody.

    The combined weight of all three drakes¡¯ gaze, I could only hope all the other two were just drakes, felt like it could bowl me over. Brass, silver, gold, solid colors, but with an intensity beyond the stormiest of eyes.

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    ¡°The death of one of your own,¡± I said, as I carefully put my teacup down. ¡°After all, getting away with that can¡¯t go unpunished, can it?¡±

    ¡°Neither can the desecration of our kind,¡± Valicent growled. ¡°You scavenged my sister¡¯s body for pieces to make potions. Broke into her resting place after she was already taken from us far too soon and carved into her body for parts.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± I agreed. ¡°And I would do it again. Scavenger¡¯s honor.¡±

    Valicent looked affronted, seconds from striking, while the other two merely seemed amused.

    ¡°I could take your head for that,¡± he hissed. ¡°In fact, what do you have that would keep me from doing so?¡±

    ¡°Dragons and drakes have kept servants for millennia, correct?¡± I asked.

    The three of them frowned, the harp player choosing to answer this time.

    ¡°Correct, although your empire chooses not to respect some of our traditions,¡± the book-reader said. ¡°There is no equivalent to the life-debt in your culture and they insist we follow suit.¡±

    Slavery, they meant, banned in the Empire¡¯s reach. Well, certain kinds of slavery.

    ¡°Not all chains are physical, as I¡¯m sure you know. Mine are tight despite their intangibility. So if you wish to kill me, ask who will be upset after being robbed of a servant?¡±

    ¡°And who would we be robbing?¡± The book-reader said.

    ¡°The Imperial Government,¡± I said with a grin, ignoring the pain my face felt being contorted. ¡°They¡¯ll be upset. Especially when I came to be so helpful to you all.¡±

    ¡°By telling us who is responsible for my sister¡¯s death?¡± Valicent said. ¡°That might get you out of the door alive. Might.¡±

    ¡°I can offer you vengeance on the ones who orchestrated her death,¡± I said, taking another sip of the tea. How many cups had I gone through? The butler kept bringing more. This could get addictive.

    ¡°Like we could not get it ourselves?¡± Valicent scoffed. ¡°We are drakes, Miss Harrow. We are long-lived, we are patient, and we never forget. A decade, two even, when the killers have convinced themselves no one is around anymore who cares, we will strike, and I will have revenge for my sister.¡±

    ¡°They are shape-changers, Lord Valicent,¡± I replied. ¡°They¡¯ve evaded detection for centuries before now. They will evade them for centuries more. When they finally settle on their new identities, will you be able to track them?¡±

    A silence followed, the two flanking onees looking curiously at Valicent. Not for guidance, evaluation. Definitely his superiors in some way, even if just in the draconic social hierarchy.

    ¡°You claim you have a way to track them?¡± Valicent asked.

    ¡°With what I have in mind, tracking won¡¯t be needed,¡± I said. ¡°They would come to me. All I need is a pair of little favors from you to do it.¡±

    ¡°Ah, so you have come here because your own efforts are stymied,¡± the book-reader said. ¡°You hope to get our aid instead for a task for you, in return for what we desire out of this. Perhaps we should seize the information from your mind and skip you as the middle-creature entirely.¡±

    The other two seemed far too willing to entertain that as a possibility. Time to come down on it as hard as I could.

    ¡°Truth be told, I gave someone a letter and money before coming here,¡± I said. ¡°If I don¡¯t contact them in about four hours¡¯ time. I¡¯m confident I can keep their identity secret for that long. Once the time has elapsed, they¡¯ll mail the letter to your prey, who will forever slip out of your claw.¡±

    In truth, considering how little cash I¡¯d had on myself, Varrow might just open the letter. After seeing all the veiled references that meant plenty to Lady Karsin but nothing to him, he¡¯d probably toss it.

    Not that the drakes needed to know that.

    ¡°Not to mention the entire issue of the empire being upset,¡± I added. ¡°They also are an offended party at this point.¡±

    ¡°The break-in at the Archives,¡± the book-reading drake noted. ¡°Details are sparse, but they were the cause, weren¡¯t they?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t really say,¡± I said. ¡°I can say if you help me, I can deliver you the one responsible for your sister¡¯s death.¡±

    ¡°And if you fail in this?¡± Valicent asked me.

    ¡°Eat me,¡± I said bluntly, and all three of the drakes jolted a little at that. ¡°Or more accurately hunt me. If I fail so spectacularly, I imagine my masters would cut me loose, and we can test how good your ability to hunt really is.¡±

    The book-reader chuckled. ¡°You seem so blase about that being the case. Amusing to see in this day and age.¡±

    I shrugged. ¡°Sometimes a hand is dealt. Make the best of it you can till you either get dealt a new one or make the dealer deal new cards. My survival depends on them and hangs by a thread. Fight it? I die. Flee? They find me and likely write me off as more trouble than it¡¯s worth. So, wait, work, and watch for the opportunity to change my cards.¡±

    ¡°Such a disloyal mind hiding behind the words of a loyal servant,¡± the harp-player noted. ¡°Perhaps we should mention such things to your masters.¡±

    ¡°Go ahead,¡± I said. ¡°If they haven¡¯t considered it themselves, they are much dumber than I originally thought.¡±

    Valicent breathed a wisp of flame to warm his tea, and I forced down the insane urge I felt to ask him to heat mine as well.

    ¡°The favors?¡± he asked.

    I explained the first, which got confused frowns from all three.

    ¡°Simplicity,¡± the book-reader said. ¡°I almost feel insulted by it.¡±

    ¡°Not a challenge,¡± Valicent agreed.

    ¡°It¡¯s not much of one,¡± I admitted. ¡°However, my other tools for attempting it are poor. Best to go for the best quality ones I can convince to aid me.¡±

    ¡°Hrrm, best quality we are, although never call us just tools again small-horn,¡± the harp-player said. ¡°Your second favor?¡±

    This explanation took longer. The favor was more complex, took longer to explain. I had to stop a few times to take questions, but we got the basics covered in ten minutes.

    ¡°Much more public,¡± the book-reader noted.

    ¡°We¡¯re more at risk as well,¡± the harp-player added.

    ¡°It seems to be one where you mostly stay out of it,¡± Valicent concluded. ¡°We are the most at danger, bodily and in terms of reputation.¡±

    ¡°And I am most at risk in the other,¡± I countered. ¡°Besides, this one I have no way in. To call it unassailable is a lie, but it¡¯s very difficult to get into. You were right earlier. I can¡¯t get into it on my own.¡±

    ¡°And if we were to simply assault both now that you¡¯ve told us it is one of those two?¡± The harp-player asked.

    I smiled. ¡°Who said it was the owner of either house? Or that you would be able to surprise them. A lot can happen while you attack either, including the mastermind shrinking to the size of a rat and slipping away.¡±

    ¡°So you recommend we kidnap their children instead?¡± The book-reader said.

    ¡°It¡¯s the one thing I think will not make them run.¡±

    They both turned to look at Valicent, who steepled his fingers in thought.

    ¡°Very well. We agree.¡±

 Chapter 97 - Endgame I

    When I stumbled out of meeting the drakes, my face was numb, my leg sore, and my taste buds obliterated. Voltar waited in the front room, talking calmly but insistently with some guards.

    ¡°Ms. Harrow,¡± Mr. Voltar said, a bit of a shock in his voice. ¡°Are you alright?¡±

    Oh, right, that sensation on my face wasn¡¯t just the crispness of the air. Hopefully, these bruises would heal quickly.

    ¡°Doing well, Mr. Voltar,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m guessing you weren¡¯t at home when the coach arrived?¡±

    I¡¯d sent it back after arriving at the drake¡¯s estate. For him to only be here now, he¡¯d either not been there or taken his time to get here.

    ¡°I was, and I have been kept waiting out here for the last hour,¡± Voltar said. ¡°The entire time being told I couldn¡¯t meet with you or the master of the house as you were both ¡®busy¡¯. I¡¯d assumed you were being tortured. It doesn¡¯t look like I was wrong. I ask you again, are you alright?¡±

    It gave me a small thrill he had been kept outside and forestalled. The concern was a little touching as well. Tagashin would have made some remark about the outside matching the inside if she was still impersonating him.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I repeated. ¡°This was the cost of admission, a little payment for my role in his sister¡¯s misfortunes. More importantly, it meant that by the time you got here, we were talking. Is there a place we can talk? Preferably with very high-quality tea?¡±

    ***

    To my disappointment, the little restaurant we went to did not have tea equal to whatever marvel the drakes had kept in their teapot. Worse, I knew this blend. I liked this blend. If I could afford it, I would drink it with every meal.

    Now the delightfulness of the brew had been reduced to a mundane feeling of the drink being just alright. Curse those drakes if they¡¯d ruined my taste buds forever!

    The servers and other patrons were a little cautious, probably because of how my face looked. The further away from the miracle tea the drakes had served, the more I could feel the incoming aches, pains, and stiffness of that beating coming back with a vengeance.

    It at least hadn¡¯t interfered with my retelling of my plan to Voltar. With that out of the way, I could dig into the food we¡¯d ordered. Unfortunately, this little cafe specialized in pastries. Delicious, fattening pastries.

    I eyed them nervously, the temptation to take a bite forming. We had pastries in the Quarter, of course. We weren¡¯t barbarians. They just tended not to have sugar. Or frosting. They tended to resemble plain bread with a few slices or patterns to make them look fancier.

    You couldn¡¯t really get this down in the Quarter. Or into places like this out of it, which was the other reason for all the looks I was getting from the servers and patrons.

    I gave the gawkers a little jaunty wave as I contemplated the dessert. I¡¯d pay for it later, in exercise, but surely just one wouldn¡¯t be too much effort?

    ¡°This is insanity,¡± Voltar noted numbly, staring at me, his tea ignored. He seemed to have finally processed what I¡¯d explained.

    ¡°Oh nonsense,¡± I said. ¡°Unconventional maybe, but hardly insanity. Besides, it beats your idea of provoking them. They¡¯ll want Kalasyp dead anyway, and I doubt either will care about Skall too much. Am I Skall? Is Skall someone else? It¡¯s ultimately irrelevant to them. Skall was a patsy who they were using. She doesn¡¯t know enough to be a threat. Kalasyp might because he knew where the alchemical lab was, but all they needed to do was move it. If they haven¡¯t already.¡±

    They probably had. The Shapechangers had time to herd a basilisk through the underground to ambush us. They¡¯d had plenty of time to move their lab.

    ¡°It will whip the both of them into a frenzy,¡± Voltar said.

    ¡°Good,¡± I replied. ¡°If they aren¡¯t, one can disappear forever, the other can end it and claim to have been coerced or impersonated. They lose nothing if they call it here, Mr. Voltar. The thing keeping them in is thinking they can win. If not for that, they¡¯d call their partnership to an end, and one would consider debts settled while the other would wait for another chance to get those notes.¡±

    Voltar chewed on my words while I enjoyed another mediocre cup of tea. Please let this be as temporary as the pain relief. I could not tolerate a life of at best bland tasting tea.

    ¡°You are correct,¡± he admitted. ¡°Though it pains me to do so.¡±

    ¡°Because I am right?¡± I asked as I decided to try some of that sinful cake instead. That at least tasted absolutely delightful. Okay, some of my taste buds had survived that tea. How much did an entire cake cost again?

    No, bad Malvia. Wait till you can exercise regularly, then splurge.

    He frowned. ¡°No. Why would that bother me? No, because I dislike bending the law in such a way.¡±

    ¡°Have you never encountered a case where morality and justice in the lawbooks clash?¡± I said, as I finished another bite. ¡°Dr. Dawes¡¯ accounts beg to differ.¡±

    ¡°There is a difference between doing something because you know it is right, and doing something that is wrong,¡± Voltar said. ¡°This is wrong, and it chafes at my soul to be a part of it.¡±

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    ¡°Then don¡¯t,¡± I offered. ¡°I can handle it, and my soul is already headed to one place, regardless of whatever I do. If it ends up doing some good but damns me to the Hells, no difference from before.¡±

    ¡°Very fatalistic,¡± Voltar noted. ¡°Did you pick that up from what your brother told members of the Black Flame so they¡¯d not question what they did?¡±

    ¡°Maybe,¡± I said. ¡°Still, I think it¡¯s the better option of what we have available. Can I have your help with it, or do I have to go it alone?¡±

    Voltar considered the question while I finished the cake, enjoying the last delicious bites while he pondered.

    ¡°Fine. If we must break the law, let us at least do it effectively. What do you need?¡±

    I didn¡¯t really need anything. I just didn¡¯t want to get into trouble for this.

    ***

    It was seemingly an average day for Lord Montague¡¯s estate, swiftly approaching mid-day as the sun climbed up the sky.

    It wouldn¡¯t remain that way for long as two long Draconic forms flew across the sky, gliding only a few dozen feet above the city below.

    No one questioned what the two drakes were doing in this part of the city. Perhaps visiting some noble acquaintances. Maybe deciding to hell with the wealthy¡¯s opinions on their skies being clear, the opinions of ground walkers didn¡¯t matter at all.

    Given the rather dismal flying from one of them, perhaps a few theorized they were drunk. It certainly would help explain what happened next as Valicent drifted further down.

    Valicent¡¯s foot smashed right into the chimney, sending bricks flying all across as the drake roared. He slammed into the roof, limbs lashing and carving furrows into the roof.

    The dragon statue replied immediately, lunging forward and tackling the errant drake. They both tumbled down into Lord Montague¡¯s front yard, grappling with each other.

    The response was immediate. The second drake came down, helping Valicent out-wrestle the statue while guards streamed out from the manor itself. Within minutes, Lord Montague had appeared, the statue retreating to his side while Valicent¡¯s companion took to the air.

    Valicent transformed back into his humanoid form, getting almost to Lord Montague¡¯s face before the statue and guards moved. He settled for about ten feet away, yelling about having been assaulted.

    From the front of the manor, a human started approaching the wall, looking like she was edging away from the ongoing argument. She made for the side, only for guards to emerge from a side entrance, led by the same enhanced enforcer from my initial meeting with Lord Montague.

    She reached into a satchel as she turned around, tossing a flask to the floor that exploded into a flash of light and billowing smoke.

    Laying on top of the servant¡¯s quarters roof, I watched Tagashin run away.

    Tagashin played her part well enough. The little flask of alchemical flash and smoke I¡¯d given her would hopefully add to the deception. We¡¯d only have one fake me. Two would have been preferable, but I¡¯d count myself lucky to have just gotten one.

    I was hidden away, waiting for my moment.

    True invisibility was difficult to gain the ingredients for and was a pain to brew. Slow-adapting camouflage, though? Much cheaper and wouldn¡¯t spew toxic fumes inside your room if you messed up the brewing. I lingered, watching my skin change colors to blend in with my surroundings as I watched my ride approach.

    The Watch had experimented with flying units for a while, another angle to keep an eye on the people down below. Each previous method ended up failing for one reason or another, and I honestly hoped the air balloon travelling across the sky towards us would fail for similar reasons.

    Probably fragility, I thought as I watched the balloon move across the sky. The balloon itself could be popped far too easily. That and speed, as it traveled across the sky at perhaps half the speed of a leisurely stroll.

    Up in the basket, Amna and Tommy both worked at directing it closer to Montague manor, disguised as Watch airborne observer officers. They weren¡¯t very far off the usual patrol route taken, so it should look like the Watch responding to the dramatic display of the two drakes.

    Down below, Watch officers on foot had already arrived and were keeping a careful distance from the confrontation. They knew better than to interfere in things involving nobles or drakes, and this involved both, and for now, they just settled for blocking off the entrance to the estate.

    Meanwhile, the balloon still continued to drift towards the manor. Definitely speed. It felt like watching an airborne snail, especially compared to the two drakes. Valicent still argued furiously with Lord Montague, loud enough I could hear parts of him berating Lord Montague for having the audacity to assault him with his chimney.

    Anyone else, I¡¯d be afraid this would be too ridiculous a display to buy. Drakes? This might actually undersell it as Valicent berated Lord Montague further on his ancestor being nothing more than a jumped-up graverobber who got lucky.

    From the look on Lord Montague¡¯s face, that was not an ad-libbed insult. Had Valicent done research before coming to yell at him?

    Maybe the slowness of the balloon wasn¡¯t such an issue after all.

    I tore my attention away from the argument as the balloon neared. Hanging down from it, the mooring rope was a good forty feet long, thick, and capable of holding it in a single place as it lowered. It was also the perfect size to support, say, a rather daring Infernal across the open sky for say¡­forty, fifty feet to the next roof.

    The slow speed would help, the rope wouldn¡¯t bend too much as I climbed it. Although, no eyes were on the balloon. Instead, all eyes were on the surrounding ground or on the potential clash between the statue and Drake.

    I gripped the rope, pulling myself up onto it. I wrapped all my limbs around it as the balloon drifted, ignoring the slow burn overtaking my muscles. It was a long way to the ground. Just ignore that/ Focus on the roof getting closer.

    Honestly, this was complicated. Probably too complicated. But there were only so many ways to get that dragon spirit off the roof and myself onto it. Doing it at night would have meant even tighter security.

    Or maybe I just liked the complication.

    I kept my eyes on the roof, counting the seconds as they passed till finally we passed over it.

    The second drake coiled in the sky, roaring at the balloon. The rope swung as it came to a stop, my arms burning as I held on as I went over the roof towards the open air.

    Valicent was only growing angrier, doing his best to keep the spirit¡¯s focus on him as I swung back. I watched carefully, waiting till I was the closest to the ground. Needed to land on both hooves, but my one leg was still weak.

    I let go, and both hooves hit the roof. Cloth covers on either muffled the noise while pain lanced up my injured leg. I bit down on a gag in my mouth as I barely kept myself upright. There was no time to stop for pain. I ran towards the same chimney Hawkins had emerged from the night of the party. Luckily, not the one Valicent had broken.

    Whatever defenses Hawkins had broken through would be repaired by now, but they were likely simple physical defenses. Maybe wards. Wards would be more difficult than a physical barrier, but not impossible. I climbed the chimney, ignoring the pain in my legs as I opened my satchel.

    Fitting inside was difficult, but I squeezed in after withdrawing my tools first. I hated operating in chimneys. Cramped, tight, way too easy to get stuck in and typically only when you finally broke through.

    One benefit to nobility, Montague¡¯s chimney was wide enough that scrambling down it didn¡¯t prove too much of a challenge

    Metal grate. Okay, I had acid for this. Strong acid too, which was lucky.

    I had a time limit to kidnap Edward Montague in.

 Chapter 98 -Endgame II

    The grate didn¡¯t take long to melt. After that had been the wards, a pair of them laid perpendicular to each other, ready to trigger the moment they were crossed. I hurriedly chipped away at the sides of the chimney, cutting a hole above where an anchor had been set for each, and poured more acid, letting it each through mortar till it reached the emitters.

    Both disappeared from sight, and I continued downwards.

    A host of minor spirits shot ahead of me, the spells keeping them out anchored to those alarms. They¡¯d alert the guards in due time, but I still had a window.

    I emerged filthy and spreading ash everywhere in the room as I crawled out of the chimney.

    I was in an office, an ornate wooden desk and chair, along with several small bookshelves on top of a red and green carpet. There was only a single door, currently closed.

    I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the noises from outside and focus on the ones on this floor. Two, maybe three people were up here? They were the only one¡¯s active enough for my ears to pick up, so there may be more motionless or asleep.

    Three distinct noises, two walking, one turning pages. I followed the sound of the turning pages, keeping away from those walking. Logically, I doubted the son would be allowed to wander if the father was keeping him out of public sight.

    This might be difficult. Personality shifts could be drastic, tended to be drastic. The mind wasn¡¯t meant to play host to battles between draconic and demonic forces. It might mean someone I could easily convince to leave this place with me.

    It could also mean a fight that would need me to dose the noble scion to sleep quickly before it drew any attention. That double set of patrolling footsteps was trouble. I¡¯d hoped the dramatics of the drakes would draw everyone away, but some had stayed on duty.

    A problem as I crept from room to room. The diabolic energy I¡¯d used to hold my leg together had finally faded, but I hadn¡¯t had the time to sculpt it like I should. Potions had been off the table till I¡¯d made sure everything was set into place. It was nothing more than an annoyance now, but even annoyances could be lethal.

    The two on patrol were nowhere near me for now as I neared the sound of the book. Not just paper being leafed through now, but also breathing, which was choppy, shallow, and pained. The kind of breathing where you know you need to fill your lungs, but every time fills you with pain.

    I reached the door and, making sure neither of the other people on this floor were near, opened it and stepped inside swiftly.

    It was a simple room, a table and a bed with a single occupant, who strained to look at me as I entered.

    Edward Montague looked far different from he had a few weeks ago. Scales had swallowed half his face, hard and deep, lines cut into his face. Pale flesh filled in the gaps in between, looking stretched where they met the scales. A normal human eye of blue and a firefly slit of red both stared at me as he slowly put the book down with a hand sporting two fingers, a thumb, and two talons that had been filed down.

    ¡°Well,¡± I said as I jammed the chair firmly underneath the door handle. ¡°This is not what I expected.¡±

    ¡°Not what I expected either,¡± Edward Montague said with difficulty, skin stretching as scales moved, putting his book aside. ¡°You are the Infernal my brother was talking with in my room. I assume you aren¡¯t supposed to be in here?¡±

    ¡°Correct,¡± I said, heading for the other door and opening it. Just a simple restroom and a look on the arcane mostly confirmed that. I knew which wall to use, but there was a slight hitch now. My timetable wasn¡¯t too tight, however.

    ¡°I could call for guards,¡± Edward said bluntly, half his face refusing to move.

    ¡°But you won¡¯t,¡± I replied. ¡°If you do, I doubt you ever get to see outside this prison cell again.¡±

    He bristled at that, but a second later his shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of him. He¡¯d must have thought the same quite several times before now, but having me say it had brought it out of the worries inside his head.

    ¡°What did you do to me?¡± he asked sullenly.

    ¡°I did nothing,¡± I replied. ¡°The cure I gave your father worked. Clearly, it¡¯s just the side effects took a route I was not expecting.¡±

    I didn¡¯t know what had happened to Edward, but I could make a few guesses. Clearly, the draconic elements of the cure had reacted to his body rather strangely. There would need to be an examination to see how deep they went as well.

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    ¡°There must be a way to cure this,¡± Edward said pleadingly. ¡°I¡¯ll be disinherited if not.¡±

    A snappy line about that being all he cared about waited on the tip of my tongue, but I let it rest. No reason to turn who might be a willing prisoner into an unwilling one.

    ¡°Perhaps, but I doubt your father is the one to find it,¡± I said. ¡°Currently he¡¯s busy trying to use the people who poisoned you before they backstab him, while they try to wheedle what he promised out of him before plunging the knife in.¡±

    The human parts of Edward¡¯s face paled. ¡°He¡¯s working with the shape-changers?¡±

    ¡°More like coercing them,¡± I admitted. ¡°So you are safe. From them. From your father if he decides a flaying is needed to get these scales off you? Less so.¡±

    I was only exaggerating a little. I doubted an actual flaying would occur, but more invasive methods to try to ¡®cure¡¯ his son of this would likely be on the table. At least when his first attempts failed to free his son of scales.

    ¡°He¡¯d have to repeat it often,¡± Edward said in resignation. ¡°It spreads. Slowly, but it spreads.¡±

    I cocked my head to the side. Strange, the cure should have long ago left his system, so what could even sustain the changes?

    ¡°Another reason to get you out,¡± I offered. ¡°I know some people who might have insight into that.¡±

    ¡®Know¡¯ might be stretching my relationship with the trio of drakes, but they did likely have more insight than me into this.

    ¡°Where is everyone?¡± Edward asked. ¡°The statue should have smashed through the ceiling the moment it detected a stranger on the floor.¡±

    ¡°Dealing with one of those people,¡± I replied. ¡°Which does get me to an important point. You are coming out of here, Edward Montague. I¡¯d prefer that be willingly, but if not, I will drag you out, and time is ticking.¡±

    Montague visibly struggled. The shifting of expressions made both more apparent and more painful to watch from the static nature of half of his face.

    ¡°It pains me to admit it,¡± he said. ¡°Loyalty to father ending because of something entirely out of my control. He sees less of me, I think, with every piece the scales claim, despite me not having changed at all.¡±

    ¡®Welcome to the club¡¯ dangled on the end of my tongue, but I didn¡¯t say it. No need to antagonize my target while they were willing to go along. Honestly, he might be one wrong prodding away from a breakdown.

    ¡°There¡¯s a rope being lowered down a chimney. I just need you to drink a potion and we can get you out of here.¡±

    ***

    It had taken a little more effort than expected to get Edward Montague stuffed up the chimney. The scales spreading across him had been on all of his limbs as well, and his ability to move had suffered.

    Still, as we¡¯d both been lifted out of the chimney, it looked like the Watch had arrived in enough force to force an end to the argument between Lord Montague and Valicent. Not Malstein, no need to make Lord Montague more suspicious than he likely already was, instead another Watch Officer to assure Lord Montague he had done nothing wrong. Maybe entice him to stay outside a little longer while discussion what legal options he might have against Valicent and how Watch witnesses would agree the drake had started the fight.

    The entire time, the Watch balloon departed in the background, carrying me and his heir.

    We were deposited several rooftops away, on top of the Halman Meat-packing plant. It was supposed to be a place where we could easily slip into the busy factory downstairs, mingle, and depart. That was before Edward Montague¡¯s draconic metamorphosis, so instead we¡¯d have to wait for it to close down. Camouflage potions would only do so much.

    Besides, Edward Montague had many questions. Mostly about the safety of his family, which I told him about, but also everything that had happened during and since the party. I fed him most of it, keeping things secret he didn¡¯t need to know.

    I kept my conjecture to myself as well. It was likely true, but trying to include things I could not definitively prove was likely to poison the well.

    I didn¡¯t necessarily need Edward Montague on my side, but it would make getting information out of him easier. We didn¡¯t need to just use him as bait.

    ¡°Your father has not talked to you much?¡± I asked him as he finally ran out of questions.

    ¡°Outside of trying to convince me he will reverse this and until then it¡¯s best I stay hidden for the family''s reputation?¡± Edward replied. ¡°No. No, he has not.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t overhear anything? See anything, perhaps?¡± I pressed. Something had to shake loose.

    ¡°Nothing,¡± Edward irritably replied. ¡°He¡¯s not some idiot. Any discussions he¡¯s had on that floor have been far away from me.¡±

    I sighed in frustration. No concrete tie with Lady Karsin. Her at least, if I was right, would be easy to catch. Use one of the methods I was thinking on for detecting shape-changer, prove she was one, and then once she was in Watch custody turn her and Hawkins on one another. Lord Montague¡¯s involvement would be trickier to prove. The written instructions to the pair of Shapechangers were the key, but on its own would it be enough?

    He could always argue coercion. That a Shapechanger had been hidden in his house and threatened him, Edward, or others of his family if he didn¡¯t cooperate.

    ¡°Did you have to pick a meat-packing plant?¡± Edward whined, staring down at the floor.

    That shook me out of my thoughts and I turned my attention back to the noble scion. His jaw was partially deformed, one that was longer trying to form out of one much shorter. The result was one in the middle, one side jutting further out in front of him than the other.

    He was drooling. Quite a bit, actually, as he stared down at the source of the scent of pork being put into packages. Along with who knows what else had ended up in the meat.

    Another thing to add to the list of mysteries, but at least this one wouldn¡¯t be mine. Hopefully someone could figure out how this had started and could be stopped.

    Not my immediate concern. That would be the bishop we were planning on ferreting out tomorrow. I¡¯d be helping with that, even if just from a distance. It beat trying to step foot on Halpsus¡¯ holy ground and being obliterated immediately. Still, irritating I would be testing the method myself. It was my idea.

    ¡°Infernal?¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°You were thief, right?¡±

    ¡°Among other things.¡±

    ¡°Could you sneak down there and steal me some meat?¡±

 Chapter 99 - Endgame III

    The main cathedral of Halspus was a towering structure, hewed from white marble in centuries past, spires reaching up to scrap the sky. Six of them at each corner of the hexagonal temple stretched upwards, narrowing only at the very end to form points. Otherwise the rest of the temple sat relatively slow, a hexagonal block with engravings on the outside, showing Halspus and his progression from simple farmer to returning life to the blasted landscape of Anglea by letting the sun shine once more upon it.

    A lot of that process involved dead devils, the ones who had sealed away the sun in the first place.

    And they would have sealed it away for a thousand more if it wasn¡¯t for that torch-wielding lunatic, The Imp hissed in my head. Can we just leave now?

    No, I thought idly before remembering the Imp couldn¡¯t hear my thoughts.

    For centuries, its magically enchanted stone had been one of the tallest structures around, only beaten by other magically aided mainstays of the city¡¯s skyline. That was changing as the Ironworks challenged them, but even they weren¡¯t nearing those heights. Only the Imperial Palace was taller, and it still was missing a few towers from the killing of Her Most Profane Majesty.

    I sat at a small cafe at the far end of the large square the entrance of the cathedral led to, one that was clearly used to serving worshipper of Halspus. That meant a lot of angry staff and customers glaring my way as I browsed the menu while enjoying a good cup of tea.

    There was no venturing closer for me. Even across the square it felt like my skin was being picked and pricked at. If I stayed here for an entire day. I¡¯d have to pick through my skin and excise the cells corrupted by the divine energies trying to kill me.

    Voltar had stayed out with me across the square, sitting at the table. Dawes was off handling some other task, while Tagashin was currently pretending to be a newspaper boy selling the Greenwick Times in the middle of the square.

    Hopefully, the usual paperboy had just been paid off instead of subjected to the whims of Tagashin. Then again, I hadn¡¯t talked to her since she¡¯d helped me in the tunnels against the pair of shape-changers. I wasn¡¯t sure if that change in behavior had been genuine. It might have been my concussion, altering my perception of what I¡¯d seen.

    ¡°You think there will be any real difficulty catching her?¡± I asked as I sipped a cup of tea.

    The effects of the drake¡¯s tea weren¡¯t permanent, to my relief, but it was slow to fade. The tea in my cup still tasted like a poor, poor substitute for that glorious cup of liquid starlight I¡¯d been given by Valicent, but it didn¡¯t taste like mud.

    That liquid starlight had probably been a drug of some kind in hindsight.

    ¡°Doubtful,¡± Voltar noted. ¡°The Church of Halspus likes its reputation kept nice and tidy, despite its attempts at agitation. With the recent events at the marches, it will want to make sure that its house is kept nice and clean.¡±

    I raised an eyebrow. ¡°They were the ones bombed, not the ones doing the bombing. So unless you''re implying that they have something else they want hidden from any potential extra attention.¡±

    Voltar sipped tea as the gears in my head turned. He couldn¡¯t be implying they were more tied into this shape-changer plot than they already were? Not only would that be extremely risky for very little reward in the end. Part of the reason I¡¯d dismissed it when we¡¯d spotted their symbols on those papers. They would be possibly implicating themselves in things that would irritate most of the other factions in the city, from killing a drake to attacking the noble¡¯s party to bombing their own followers.

    I paused, a horrible thought occurring to me.

    The bombings in the Infernal Quarter. What purpose had they served? At first I thought it was a changer trick, motivated by whatever made them target the Black Flame to begin with, then the Flame themselves. Eventually, though, there just wasn¡¯t a viable enough motive for either side to have done this.

    Just a case of bad timing making me think it was a part of a plot from players who had nothing to do with it. An intersection of two schemes makes it appear as if there was one. I¡¯d been thinking about how the Bishop could have arranged the marches, but had pulled a blank in figuring out what it would help with.

    However, what if it was another party¡¯s scheme entirely? The only factors involved were ones that didn¡¯t need to be tied into the scheme of the shape-changers at all. The marching of the church and its followers in the Infernal Quarter.

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    If they had set that up themselves¡­I was only vaguely aware of the trembling of my teacup as my mind traced possibilities. It fit, partially, but what was the motive behind it?

    Finishing his tea, Voltar gently set it down.

    ¡°There is, of course, no evidence of them being responsible for those bombs,¡± he said quietly. ¡°But there were rumblings about them pushing to reclaim the churches in the district. Opening them up again.¡±

    Slowly, precisely so I didn¡¯t drop it to the ground, I put my own teacup back in its saucer.

    ¡°Th-that¡¯s not possible,¡± I said, barely controlling a tremble. ¡°There are laws to prevent that, laws for a very good reason.¡±

    The reason being death. The reason being the divine energies of Halspus that kept me far away from the main temple, on the other side of the square and still, my skin itched.

    It didn¡¯t even need to be right next to us. When we were exposed to that kind of divine energy that a Halspus consecrated temple could put out for weeks, months, years on end? The other deities kept the emanations from their temples and the harmful effects of their energies were lower except when used in force.

    Halspus wanted us dead. Halspus had no such reservations.

    ¡°It will not work,¡± Voltar said reassuringly. ¡°The timing was too coincidental and with recent developments, they have too many eyes on them. Besides, the Queen seems strangely reluctant to grant said request.¡±

    ¡°Ah,¡± I muttered. ¡°So they¡¯ll help us, to be useful, so she eventually will.¡±

    ¡°That and many, many other things across the empire,¡± Voltar replied. ¡°We are just a small part of that. Although the church seems genuinely concerned that a shape-changer may have slipped into their ranks. As anyone would be. How is Edward Montague doing?¡±

    The sudden change in topic jolted me out of my thinking regarding the church and what it may have done.

    ¡°He¡¯s doing as well as expected,¡± I said. ¡°The hand-off went well. I visited later. The trio have as little of an idea as I do about what happened to him.¡±

    The ¡®trio¡¯ were Valicent and his two fellow drakes, who I¡¯d entrusted Edward Montague to for now. Not only were they the safest people to shelter him, but I was hoping they would have some insight into the transformative magics that were slowly making the young noble into a draconic humanoid.

    So far, that had been unsuccessful.

    ¡°Hrrm. History would be the first place to check, if your analysis of magic cannot turn up a solution.¡±

    ¡°I am aware,¡± I replied testily. ¡°However, these kinds of poisonings aren¡¯t common and alterations are varied. But never physical to my recollection. This is new.¡±

    Not to say physical alterations were impossible, but they should have cropped up by now. Instead, all alterations the cure made had always been mental.

    Any further thought on that was interrupted by our target walking out of the doors to the cathedral.

    Bishop Elline Strevans, a high-ranking clerical priest in the temple, was a middle-aged woman with a calm smile and a slow walk as she peered at some papers. Making her way across the square to this cafe for a bite to eat while working was a regular occurrence for her. It didn¡¯t appear anyone had warned her that today might be her last time.

    She made it halfway before noticing me and Voltar sitting next to her usual table. She slowed to a halt, face paling as she turned around.

    From the edges of the square, Watch appeared, whistles blowing as boots hit the ground and they moved in. Bishop Strevans whirled about before choosing the cathedral, running back.

    Tagashin got to her before she took a step, her disguise still up as she darted forward. Pulling a rune-inscribed wand from her pockets, she jabbed the bishop in the cheek with it.

    I watched as the bishop frozen, then her flesh moved. Gasps came from all around us as the already shocked cafe guests realized she was one of them.

    ¡°Your theory was correct,¡± Voltar observed as the bishop¡¯s skin tore and reformed, shapes pressing out before melting back into her skin. She collapsed, legs melting as her fingers disintegrated.

    I nodded, rather proud that it had. We should have tested it on Hawkins first, but Masltein was being stingy with his prisoner.

    ¡°An unstable core of life energy somehow kept stable,¡± I said. ¡°Whatever regulates it is probably done unconsciously, but would probably be very precise. Throw a little extra life energy through, say, a wand keyed through healing, and you throw the entire balance out of whack. And also avoid the issues with the paralyzation method.¡±

    People were gawking or running away as Tagashin ducked under a wild attack from the bishop before running further away. The bishop couldn¡¯t follow. Her lower limbs melted together as she tried to regain control over her shifting.

    ¡°They¡¯ll strike soon,¡± I observed as we watched the struggling flesh attempt to flee, only to find herself surrounded on all sides.

    A necromancer from every angle, as well as more priests, other mages, and even two of those new automatons, large, four-legged designs hissing as smoke poured into the air and hammers rotated. Paving stones crunched under their feet as they flanked the bishops still warping form.

    Over at the cathedral, the doors inside slammed shut. The church¡¯s higher ups making it clear she was on her own, I imagined.

    ¡°They have to,¡± I continued as they began binding up the shape-changer with metal cord. She didn¡¯t resist, or couldn¡¯t. ¡°Things are falling apart. Lord Montague will want his son back. They¡¯ll want Kalasyp silenced. Tonight I think. It¡¯ll be hurried and rushed.¡±

    ¡°You sound so certain,¡± Voltar replied drily. ¡°Reasoning?¡±

    ¡°Lashing out,¡± I muttered. ¡°We wounded Montague by taking his heir. Lady Karsin will panic because she must suspect her son will be next. And that her people¡¯s ranks are reduced by one more.¡±

    The number of shape-changers free might already be at single digits now. The only ones left in the world, one that was swiftly aware of them and learning how to deal with them all over again.

    I would sympathize with that plight, but I could only muster up so much for those who¡¯d taken my life and tried to make a ruin of it.

    ¡°Agreed,¡± Voltar said. ¡°Once that fails, we¡¯ll handle the other kidnapping you¡¯ve arranged. Until then, preparations for our guests?¡±

    I smirked as I watched. "Easily arranged."

 Chapter 100 -Endgame IV

    It was a quiet night in Voltar¡¯s house as I kept my eyes shut and pretended to sleep, waiting for intruders to come bursting in to kill us all in our sleep.

    I¡¯d prefer to be waiting on my feet, however circumstances dictated this instead. Shape-changers could shrink both their core and their mass, so they could scout to their heart¡¯s content. If they wanted them to attack the house, they¡¯d have to confirm we were asleep first.

    Well, except poor Doctor Dawes stuck reading a book idly in the foyer near the cellar entrance, where we¡¯d stuffed Kalasyp and Edward Montague. It¡¯d look too suspicious to not have a guard of any sort. Or at least someone to help our ¡®secret¡¯ prisoners in case they needed a bite to eat or to relieve themselves.

    So I waited under the covers, pretending to be sleeping. To my annoyance, there was no place where I could wait awake. The place where we¡¯d put both Kalasyp and Edward Montague when they¡¯d arrived here? Firmly blocked off from any creature we believed the shape-changers could become? My room? Less so. And if I was missing, that might give the game away.

    A good point. I was still infuriated because I was under the covers, waiting for the attack. Or that I¡¯d be fighting in my nightgown instead of anything more practical.

    I had one of my hands on top of the cover, gripping my focus tightly. Just a precaution. I didn¡¯t know if stories of what happened when you killed a sleeping diabolist with their focus in hand had been spread deliberately by my predecessors or not. I¡¯d take advantage of them all the same so no shape-changer would kill me in my sleep.

    Although I wasn¡¯t sure how well I could fool them.

    Trying to sleep while expecting someone to come bursting in at any second was impossible, and faking sleep wasn¡¯t much better. We used to do this to lull in the unwary in the Black Flame, but I was years out of practice.

    Also, a little nagging voice that wasn¡¯t the Imp kept on insisting that they wouldn¡¯t come. Which was ridiculous on its face. Two days, two blows they hadn¡¯t expected. The kidnapping of Montague¡¯s son, the exposure and capture of the bishop. And their numbers were down to ten in total. It didn¡¯t matter that we weren¡¯t sure who the others might be. They had to be worrying about what our next move would be. Especially now that we¡¯d shown we knew a way to detect them besides the paralysis poison.

    They needed the initiative back. They needed to pick a target and try to silence any sources of information. There were two such targets, the Coffin containing Hawkins and the Bishop, and Voltar¡¯s property containing Kalasyp and Edward Montague.

    I knew which I¡¯d consider the easier target. And which one the man holding the reins would prioritize.

    I counted the seconds in my head just so my thoughts wouldn¡¯t wander. Three hours since I turned my lights out if my count was correct and I hadn¡¯t missed a second.

    Thinking back wrecked the count though, and I muttered and turned over in my sleep.

    A thump, a clatter from downstairs, and a muffled curse.

    I rolled my eyes as I heard the plate shatter. How moronic did they think we were? Bait, so clearly bait.

    Still, bait I should reply to as I pretended to blink sleep out of my eyes, lifting my head up. I lifted the covers to exit to the right of the bed, and then immediately rolled off the left side, taking the covers with me.

    A long hand stabbed at where I would have gotten out of bed, a quartet of spike fingers slamming into the wall. From within the shadows, something clung to the wall, a thin stretched-out film of flesh the same color as the wall. How long had it taken to creep into position?

    No matter, it was just a target now. I felt a twinge of sadness that held me back for an instant. I¡¯d only been here a few weeks, but this room had replaced my torn-apart lodgings back in the Quarter, just a little.

    Only an instant, though, as I struck.

    I borrowed their attack on me, four lances of hellfire burning across the room. They splashed across the shape-changer¡¯s surface, flesh blackening as the fires scorched its flesh. It howled as it rolled off the wall, leaving chunks of itself behind burnt to a crisp.

    It shrieked and flailed as it shed burning pieces of flesh. It bought me enough time to disentangle myself from those oh-so-comfortable sheets.

    I was going to miss that bed.

    The four spikes retracted from the wall, bent, and swung at me as overly long claws. I was already halfway to the door, sending more hellfire spraying back at it. A wall formed, and the spikes retreated as I ran through the door.

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    The trapdoor was still open. Good. I ran towards it, sending an errant burst of hellfire at part of my lab before sliding down the ladder.

    My leg ached as the hoof hit the bottom, but I kept on running. The stored chemical in that lab would burst at any second, and-

    The floor beneath me burst, wood bending, then shattering as I was sent off my hooves. The entire house rocked, walls shaking, and the sound of a hundred shattering and falling objects joined the boom of the explosion.

    The floor shifted underneath my feet and I started running for a window. The floor fell away under my feet, but I managed to get to the sill, throwing it open and flinging myself out as the wall came down.

    I plummeted towards the greenery just outside the house, crashing through a shrubbery. Lucky, although I didn¡¯t feel it as I hit the soil. Pieces of the house landed around me, and I curled up in a ball, waiting for a falling piece of rubble to crush me.

    It never came as the house collapsed in on itself, leaving a skeleton in its place.

    ¡°Ow,¡± I muttered, my entire body aching, but especially my right shoulder. I¡¯d kept a death grip on my focus, though.

    Didn¡¯t have time to take stock of the damage, I needed to get up now.

    I disentangled myself from the shrubbery, branches raking my skin as I broke free. I moved about, avoiding the broken-off chunks of walls all around. Where the house once stood, a few bits of interior walls were still up, everything else having collapsed down into the cellar.

    They must have broken into the cellar only to find the tunnel, note, and explosive charges. Hopefully, those would slow them down some.

    No one else was here, because we couldn¡¯t trust anyone to hide themselves well enough to hide from. Just me, Tagashin, Voltar, and Dawes. Four versus however many shape-changers had come here tonight.

    Something hissed from further along in the bushes, stick-legs bursting from the bushes as they rose. A blob of still-burning flesh, the shape-changer from my bedroom, darted toward me on those stalks of pale flesh.

    A blast of flame drove it off but also set the vegetation alight. It scurried about, trying to avoid flames touching its legs.

    Wrong place to focus. And an even worse mistake, it had left its central body too small. I swiped at a leg with rot gathered in my hand. Squealing, it came crashing down as the stalk leg split, spraying rotten black ichor across the ground.

    I drove my hand into its chest as it fell past, stabbing deep till I felt the core. A touch of rot, and I left the writhing, dying thing behind me.

    I went to the house next. Something had triggered the trap, and even if they were long gone, Doctor Dawes might be buried under the rubble-

    A spear of flesh stabbed out of the rubble. I dodged to the side, but it still scored a wound along my right bicep. I sent a stream of fire onto the pile of rubble while flesh poured out, forcing its way from each opening. I sent fire back in equal measure, till my muscles ached and my eyes burned. Flesh no longer poured out, and as my fingers felt like I couldn¡¯t move them, I halted the stream of fire.

    If the shape-changers under the house were still alive, they weren¡¯t making any efforts to escape.

    The sound of cackling and annoyed screeching came from the street, and I hurried that way.

    By the time I got there, something resembling a praying mantic eight feet tall and a spiked blob were impaling each other, roaring as they stabbed at each other again and again. Their shrieks and screams echoed, growing weaker as they tore chunks out of each other.

    Tagashin floated over both, walking towards the wreckage of the collapsed house as the shadowy figures of the remaining shape-changers continued their retreat. Four maybe, they hurried away from their two illusion-stricken comrades as Tagashin pulled a mass-produced wand from her pocket.

    ¡°Three for you,¡± Tagashin said from where she floated. ¡°Two for me. You can leave Malvia. I can finish these two off easily enough.¡±

    I frowned. ¡°Three?¡±

    ¡°Two underneath there. Both are roasted beyond belief, too roasted to force their way out. They could be faking their injuries, of course, but I doubt it. Do you want to pursue them?¡±

    I eyed the retreating figures. They were further away now in the darkness, but I still backed away.

    ¡°Don¡¯t feel like fighting them?¡± Tagashin teased, only to suddenly drop out of the sky.

    A tongue lashed out at where she¡¯s floated, thick and covered in orange, glowing blisters.

    ¡°Do you?¡± I asked as I sent a ball of black fire into the darkness.

    ¡°Not particularly,¡± the Kitsune admitted. ¡°Dawes and Voltar are two houses down, barricaded inside. I can harass this lot to make sure they leave, but I don¡¯t think I can kill them. You?¡±

    ¡°I doubt there will be any more opportunities,¡± I muttered, sending another blast of oily flame shrieking down the street.

    It illuminated forms further down, still retreating down the street. Humanoid forms, probably trying to slink away into the dark. I still kept my guard up, just in case another bone spear came stabbing from down the street.

    ¡°Just go link up with Voltar and Dawes,¡± Tagashin said, floating back into the air. ¡°I¡¯ll handle the rest.¡±

    I nodded, paused for just a second. ¡°Don¡¯t die.¡±

    And then I left.

    ***

    ***

    Voltar and Dawes were sitting just inside the next house, between them a quivering mass of pale flesh spreading into a circle.

    I eyed the shaking puddle of flesh.

    ¡°Mind sharing how exactly you disabled this one?¡± I asked the pair.

    ¡°No,¡± Voltar replied evenly. ¡°Two escaped. I¡¯m guessing some escaped you as well?¡±

    ¡°More like we escaped each other,¡± I said. ¡°Three of them are down permanently. Tagashin took care of another two. With your prisoner, that makes seven left total, counting Lady Karsin.¡±

    The blob froze at the name, although I couldn¡¯t put much stock in that. Who knows what was stimulating it at this point?

    ¡°Less than half they started with,¡± Voltar said. ¡°Assuming that our estimate of their total number is accurate.¡±

    Dawes nodded, face pale. The doctor looked far more tired than Voltar, sweat dripping off his chin. Had he done most of the fighting, or was just more out of shape than the detective?

    ¡°Probably,¡± I said. ¡°She¡¯ll want to to run, once that gets back to her. Assuming she wasn¡¯t out here herself. We need her to stay here.¡±

    Voltar sighed, looking up into the night¡¯s sky. ¡°I dislike doing this to people who have committed no crime against us.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s either that or she runs,¡± I said. ¡°We have one anchored here. Now we just need the other.¡±

    ¡°Unfortunately, I must agree. Kidnap the Karsin boy, and I¡¯ll send the invite for tea.¡±

 Chapter 101 - Endgame V

    There was less subtlety about the second attempt. If they hadn¡¯t figured out the drakes had been involved in the kidnapping of Edward Montague, they were dumber than I thought.

    It was still just Valicent and his harp-playing friend, though, who dove out of the sky, heading right for the tower Lady Karsin called home. No need to let them know there was a third Drake involved. Yet.

    Valicent collided first, claws sliding off the stone of the tower to his obvious frustration. Roaring, he sprayed a golden stream of fire down onto the roof of the tower. That slid off as well, sent skimming along the tower¡¯s surface into thin air, where it dissipated.

    He scrambled on the slippery surface, claws failing to find purchase. He beat his wings to stay aloft, claws trying to tear through unyielding stones. Above something formed in the sky, a blood-red circle that expanded, trying to swallow all the sky outside its bounds.

    Silver darted through the edge of the circle, ripping it apart as the harp-player dove through. The spell construct crumpled, no longer joined together, and the forming red was what was devoured, the sky consuming it instead.

    Down from a nearby rooftop, I watched as snakes of green emerged from the tower, only to be burnt away by Valicent¡¯s flames as he tore again at the tower.

    A few feet away, the third drake stood, not caring if anyone saw him, idly munching away as if at the carnival or a street performance.

    To my irritation, all the Drake had brought with him was a tray full of fancy cheeses I had been told I want not allowed to take a bit off of.

    I¡¯d inquired about if he¡¯d brought a specific drink, only to get a choked laugh in return.

    ¡°The tea?¡± He asked, forcing down a chuckle. ¡°The drugged tea we fed you to make you tell the truth only for you to spout it before it even worked?¡±

    I¡¯d considered that fact and had only one thing to say in response.

    ¡°If it¡¯s not addictive, then yes. It tasted like liquid stars, and I¡¯d appreciate the chance to taste it again.¡±

    We¡¯d been waiting for things to kick off after no more idle chit-chat and he hadn¡¯t even bothered to share his name.

    ¡°He¡¯s got good spirit, but I am glad we decided to alter the plan,¡± I said as Valicent failed to breach the tower again. ¡°I don¡¯t think even the three of you combined could force your way in.¡±

    The drake snorted. ¡°No, we would have.¡±

    I waited for an explanation, but there was no elaboration as he turned his attention back to the cheese.

    ¡°Well, either way, I think this one works better,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m glad there were no arguments over it.¡±

    ¡°He was accommodating, but he wants your head still,¡± the Drake informed me. ¡°Once this is all done. He¡¯ll have restraint, so you should be safe as long as you have a strong enough protector. The empire serves that purpose well enough. It¡¯s big enough to get through his skull, at least.¡±

    ¡°Sounds like you disagree?¡± I said, continuing to watch Valicent and the harp-player¡¯s overt assault on the tower. By now, guards had emerged down below and were unloading rifles and pistols at the two drakes as they flew around. Their fire still failed to affect the tower¡¯s defenses, and I¡¯d made it clear no one should die from this, so there¡¯d be no attacking the guards.

    No need to make any potential backlash from this worse.

    ¡°I don¡¯t blame scavengers for acting in their nature,¡± the Drake said. ¡°Besides, you¡¯ve been rather polite for one and at least somewhat open about it. Also, it wasn¡¯t my relative whose grave was robbed.¡±

    Ah. Yeah, that might explain this one¡¯s relatively lax position.

    ¡°Family is a tie that¡¯s supposed to bind,¡± I said. ¡°Never really stuck to me, with one exception. My relatives either despise me or want to exploit me for what I am. Everyone else seems to have that bond, even with people they, by all rights, should hate. Not me though. Still, not the worse fate. Nobody is going to manipulate me the way we¡¯re about to manipulate Lady Karsin.¡±

    There was silence from the Drake, not even the munching of cheese as I watched the ongoing fight down below. Valicent had ended his attempts to force open a hole in the wall, pulling back. Gathering spirits had latched onto his limbs, and I could see his scales darken as they tried to cut through.

    They failed, but he still flew away from the walls. They detached, a swarm of shadows forming into a single tendril that tried to wrap around his foreleg, but bursts of fire-breath drove them back. They fled to the safety of the Tower¡¯s wards, still coiled and ready to stab out if he ventured closer. Meanwhile, more spells lashed out from the ground below and the tower windows, bolts of lightning, bursts of fire, even ice spikes. Elemental assaults, the easiest to conjure but they had the sheer mass to be a problem for Valicent.

    The Drake finally spoke again.

    ¡°Why would she care?¡± the Drake asked me as he grabbed another slice of cheese from the tray. ¡°From what you¡¯ve described, her son is nothing more than a cover, and she poisoned him to test this poison. Then there¡¯s this cure that she had you test on him, personality-altering. Why would she care for the boy?¡±

    ¡°Why would she adopt him in the first place?¡± I asked, watching as Valicent retreated further, roaring as spells scoured his flanks. His scales were holding for now, but he¡¯d probably reached the limits of the firepower he could endure. The harp-player was doing more than disrupting spells, having gone on a rampage through the gardens and surrounding structures. Lacking the wards of the tower, Valicent had badly damaged them. The gardens themselves were on fire now, exotic plants crackling away.

    ¡°She didn¡¯t need an heir,¡± I continued. ¡°And I checked the records. Adopted when an infant, raised since then. Long investment for that plan, assuming they even had it plotted out back then. And it presumes she was always the leader.¡±

    Admittedly, my grasp of the shape-changers organization was tenuous at best. Getting information from Hawkins was like pulling teeth. The Bishop had done nothing but pray since arriving in the Coffin, and the puddle of flesh Voltar and Dawes had caught steadfastly refused to change from said puddle.

    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    ¡°It feels like leadership is lacking,¡± I said. ¡°I think the bishop being of Halspus helped me put it together. Why the Black Flame was targeted, at least. They needed her help to make the plan work, so they gave it to her. Not that all leadership hierarchies are dictatorial, but other cross purposes indicate a lack of central authority. They robbed my lab for an income stream despite the fact that it only helped tip me off and they didn¡¯t need the cash. Someone wanted to keep the scheme running to make money off the cures, despite them only needing to replace Edward Montague.¡±

    It made little sense any other way. The endgame was the Black Flame, and myself being blamed, and presumably myself and some other key members executed. Push the idea that Versalicci would continue the poisoning scheme? Anyone who turned up with a cure would be suspected of being Black Flame, no matter if they had no horns. Not a good way to earn extra cash unless you took it and moved elsewhere. Someone looking for a quick way to earn cash if they had to burn it all down here.

    Valicent and the harp-player had left now, leaving the burning wreckage of Lady Karsin¡¯s estate behind. Relieved defenders and shocked onlookers filled the ground in equal measure.

    ¡°I am surprised he agreed to this,¡± I said. ¡°Honestly, I half expected him to just devour me like a rat when I suggested it.¡±

    The drake grunted. ¡°He¡¯s young. Still thinks he¡¯s invincible. But I will suggest he and Malletearia perhaps take their honeymoon to the countryside this coming year after this.¡±

    Hrrm, that I hadn¡¯t been told about. Not all that relevant, but you never knew what might be useful. Wonder where that put this one in terms of relations to them? Friend? Relative to the bride?

    ¡°You should have brought more cheese,¡± I said. ¡°This will take a while.¡±

    It did, as Lady Karsin¡¯s servants got to work trying to dig out the ruined buildings and more people emerged from the tower. Guards kept both the Watch and the onlookers from entering the estate, and that brewed a small confrontation demanding her ladyship¡¯s presence.

    A cart left a side gate, a tiny one with a single, bundled up driver, and next to me the Drake tensed.

    ¡°No,¡± I whispered. ¡°It¡¯s never the first one out.¡±

    ¡°Unless someone sends one knowing everyone assumes it¡¯s never true, first one out,¡± the drake replied, turning his attention back to his cheese tray. Not much left on it, a quarter of what he¡¯d started with. He¡¯d turned to rationing since I¡¯d mentioned him needing more.

    ¡°The first one is never it,¡± I insisted. ¡°Besides, we have someone trailing it, in case it is. But you always have to account for those who will assume it¡¯s the first one. She¡¯ll panic, yes, because we¡¯ve showed we have greater power than she can hold off forever, but the danger isn¡¯t immediate. She can wait to send him away till later in the day. Besides, she probably has her hands full, making sure no one died.¡±

    That last word was more a question than anything else, and the drake snorted.

    ¡°Valicent is impetus, but he is not a fool, Infernal,¡± he said. ¡°No one in service to the murdered died. Inured, perhaps, but they should have known that before choosing to serve a villainess.¡±

    A retort that people rarely thought those they worked for were evil formed, but I dismissed it. I did not want to get involved in a debate over morality with a Drake.

    We waited. Another pair of wagons left, much larger, but both packed with injured. Not any dead yet. Probably not in either of those. The injuries weren¡¯t faked, and she¡¯d want competent protection.

    The fifth cart, though, when they started taking rubble out? Me and the drake teleported to follow that one.

    ¡°Could you simply not spray them with fire?¡± The drake asked me.

    ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°Fire spreads could harm the boy. Also, demonic corruption could make something that could kill the boy. Since I want him alive, no diabolism. Or alchemist¡¯s fire.¡±

    ¡°Ah, so you brought me here to be the muscle,¡± the drake said sardonically.

    Actually, I¡¯d brought him here to act as my taxi service. Once I¡¯d found out he could teleport, it cut out so much legwork that would normally be involved in this step. The wagon traveled at a slow enough pace I could have followed on the rooftops easily enough, but not having to race across them was a relief.

    ¡°You don¡¯t need to assist me if you think it beneath you,¡± I said. ¡°Mind you, if I die and the boy gets away, I doubt Valicent would be too happy.¡±

    I couldn¡¯t tell if the drake¡¯s solid color eyes rolled or not, but his body language gave the impression. ¡°Yes, yes Infernal. I do not need to be instructed on how he¡¯ll react if his chance for revenge slips through his fingers. In front of the cart?¡±

    ¡°Fifty feet,¡± I said, and in a blur of blue and vanished sensations, I was there on the street.

    I moved quickly, drawing my revolver.

    ¡°Off the wagon!¡± I commanded, and the driver shakily nodded, letting go of the reins and holding his hands up. He jumped off, then moved to the left as I waved my revolver that way.

    I moved towards the wagon, a wary eye on it, only for the driver to lunge towards me.

    I turned swiftly, revolver ready, but the damage was done. A large, hulking figure emerged from the wagon, a man the size of an orc.

    Oh, it was Lord Montague¡¯s bodyguard. What a shock-

    A meaty fist rammed into my stomach, driving the breath out of my lungs and me off the wagon.

    Shuddering, I fell to the ground, gasping for air as the enhanced human dropped down to the ground next to me. It shook as both feet hit the ground, and I could see his face impassively look down at me as a foot lifted. The bottoms of his boots were steel.

    I sucked a breath in and rolled to the side as the boot came down. It rammed into the stones, the street surface splintering. Little bits pelted me, but I just continued rolling and then scrambled to my feet.

    He swung another fist my way, and I backpedaled as it passed right in front of my nose. My chest and stomach still hurt where he¡¯d punched, a cough trying to force its way up my throat. I couldn¡¯t grapple. He had height, reach, and definitely muscle. And good form as he kept coming, jabs that could break my neck keeping me moving away from the wagon.

    I still had the revolver, but every time I tried to raise it, a punch threatened to tear it from my hands.

    The drake raised his arm up to gesture, only for a gunshot to echo as someone opened fire from within the wagon. He roared far louder than human-sized lungs should allow as it punched a hole into his wrist.

    ¡°We need him alive!¡± I yelled, then ducked as another jab came for my jaw.

    Fuck this. My tail grabbed a knife from within my coat, slicing at his fist as the next jab came. My other hand grabbed a vial as he yelled in pain, fingers loosening as the cut tendons came into play.

    Human tendons for too large hands. Shoddy work like I¡¯d spotted all the way back at Hell¡¯s Own. His other hand was coming for me and I met it with my own, the vial of acid between them.

    Flesh bubbled and hissed and we both screamed, but I kept my focus. Knife to the knee, angling through the oversized flesh to where even enlarged bones struggled to keep weight up. An injured arm came up to try to choke me and I intercepted with my jaw. My teeth bit down, slicing into thick flesh.

    Another scream as I pulled the hammer back on my revolver and stuck it under his chin. A single trigger pull later and his struggles ceased as he slumped down.

    The Drake was busy with the fool who had shot him with a bullet capable of hurting him. She floated in mid-air, trying to draw breath and failing, brown hair floating as if underwater.

    I ignored them, making for the wagon. No one else moved inside, and I quickly searched its interior.

    Demond Karsin lay near the bottom, deeply asleep. Probably sedation. A quick check with my hand for Biosculpting turned up nothing, and a poke with a small life-essence-infused wand caused no response. It was him.

    Excellent. I grabbed him and pulled him out of his cocoon as he whimpered slightly. I checked his vitals quickly, and confirming they were good, went back out.

    Back outside, the Drake looked contemptuously at the two dead guards as well as the still-quivering coachman.

    ¡°Do you want this one dead?¡± he asked mildly, and the coachman fainted.

    ¡°No, her finding out isn¡¯t an issue,¡± I said. ¡°The preparations are complete. We just need to do the most important part now.¡±

    ¡°That being?¡± the Drake asked with a raised brow.

    I grinned, grabbing the reins of the wagon. ¡°Tea party.¡±

 Chapter 102 - Endgame VI

    I woke up to a murky, drizzling day.

    A thick blanket of grey clouds coated the sky, occasionally sending scattered pockets of rain down on us. There was a chill in the air that threatened to reach into the house, which made it perfect for a hot cup of tea.

    Some swore by sunny days and pleasant weather. I preferred grey days when a hot cup was that one source of heat that felt like it reignited your blood. Back when my walls had been wood a few sturdy blows away from collapsing. When huddling together for warmth had been a necessity. When you woke up and the cold had seeped into your bones? Time for tea.

    The walls weren¡¯t anywhere near as thin these days, although the cold had seeped in some. But I¡¯d waited for our two guests to arrive for my tea. Some things could keep my cold blood warm without warm liquid to aid it.

    An end to this mess was definitely one of them.

    They came in separate coaches from different ends of the street. Lady Karsin¡¯s took slightly longer to make it to the house. It had to navigate through the spread-out rubble still left after her brethren¡¯s raid on the house.

    Workers hired by Voltar were going to take it away. Once the priests he¡¯d hired had finished, making sure me throwing Diabolism around hadn¡¯t birthed something truly nasty in the wreckage.

    Nothing had shown up yet, which¡­.well, Diabolism corruption took the forms of the loud and flashy. The lack of that boded ill, but it was a worry for another time.

    Both coaches made it to the front of the house and both their passengers exited after the customary waiting time to see who would actually leave their carriage first.

    They¡¯d dressed modestly. Not really here to attend a social event, so a simple suit for the Lord, and a plain dress for the Lady,

    They probably also didn¡¯t want to be seen having come to this house. Good luck with that. The threat of a torrential downpour had done little to dissuade the usual crowd of watchers on Voltar¡¯s street. Far too many people were interested in keeping track of his movements for that to end.

    Lord Montague looked angry, and he certainly was spewing some words that I doubted were kind as he moved towards Lady Karsin.

    In contrast, she kept a smile on her face, but not some serene look. There was a manic edge to that smile as she responded to Lord Montague¡¯s words. They seemed lost in their own conversation, which wouldn¡¯t do.

    I tapped on the glass of the window, hitting the thick glass with my knuckles loud enough to be heard outside.

    Both their faces turned to stare up at me. I pointed down at the door, then mimed looking at a pocket watch. Smile and glare both deepened, but I¡¯d already started walking to the tea table itself. Someone else would get the door for the two guests, and they¡¯d be instructed to come inside.

    No delaying the inevitable at this stage.

    ***

    I and Voltar of us were sitting when the pair of them entered the door, being lead in by a disguised Tagashin. Dr. Dawes was currently with both of our guests, helping watch over them and to make sure no agent of their parents tried to kidnap them back.

    Those parents had barely made it through the doorway when I flung a stick at Lady Karsin. The simple piece of wood tumbled end over end, on a collision course with her face.

    Her hand intercepted it in mid-air, sending it flying to the side, but not before the physical contact discharged the wand¡¯s magic right into her hand.

    New fingers poked out all around the surface of her hand, wriggling stubby digits that tore skin, revealing pulsating muscle and tendons underneath. Her regular fingers merged together, shrinking down to where the second knuckle would have been, while new digits layered on top of each other from sheer numbers.

    ¡°Really?¡± Lady Karsin asked, looking at her wriggling hand, smile fading to a frown. ¡°Was that necessary?¡±

    ¡°Just a final bit of confirmation, Lady Karsin,¡± Voltar said. ¡°I apologize for the inconvenience, but we figured we should be sure of your case. Thank you for the effort put into not making it too flashy, Miss Harrow. You should make a marketable one that can be mass-produced. It would be worth quite a Pound in these times.¡±

    I shrugged, leaning back in my chair. ¡°Not really worth it. I had to share it with the Watch and no one gossips quite like a copper. And the fundamentals aren¡¯t too difficult to understand. Honestly, anything with a bit of life-energy might be enough, although I doubt healing potions-¡±

    ¡°Enough of this nonsense,¡± Lord Montague yelled, pulling a revolver from his pocket and leveling it at my face. ¡°Where is my son?¡±

    Shoulders tense, face scrunched up, eyes narrowed, his intensity only matched by how much his aim wavered.

    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    I stared down the barrel impassively as it jittered about. ¡°Currently? Seeing people much better than you would have brought in. Now, unless you want to lose that arm, drop the gun.¡±

    Montague turned his attention to Voltar, face reddened with anger. ¡°Voltar, are you going to let your little pet talk to me this way? After she ruined my son¡¯s cure and ended up forcing me into working under this one!¡±

    I swallowed my anger even as I felt the overwhelming urge to grab Montague¡¯s arm and tear the rotten remnants off at the elbow. Instead, I focused on where he was pointing.

    His finger stabbed across the air at lady Karsin, shaking even more than the revolver aimed at me. Lady Karsin seemed more bemused than anything else at Lord Montague¡¯s accusation and throwing her under the bus. I snorted, already predicting where Lord Montague was heading with this. I¡¯d discussed it with the others. There wasn¡¯t much hard evidence to disprove Lord Montague if he claimed to be coerced.

    I¡¯d had a long argument with both Malstein and Voltar over it, as well as one elderly gentleman from the Watch who¡¯d overseen one of my torture sessions.

    Unless he gave himself away here, he wasn¡¯t being brought in.

    ¡°Miss Harris is a trusted associate, Lord Montague,¡± Voltar replied calmly. ¡°Quite unlike what I would consider you. Please lower your pistol, or we¡¯ll be forced to take it from you.¡±

    Montague''s eyes widened as his gaze drifted from me. It would be so easy to just lunge forward and touch, watch that arrogant face shrivel in on itself as flesh decayed and burst.

    He regained his bluster swiftly and his gaze snapped back to glare at me. Survival instinct or just focusing on the person in the room he hated the most?

    ¡°If the Foulhorn lays a single finger on me, you¡¯ll pay Voltar. It¡¯s bad enough your schemes have ended with me manipulated by her and this one, but you dare speak down to me?¡±

    ¡°If you keep on blustering, it¡¯ll be more than a finger,¡± I replied, matching his gaze with an even expression.

    Voltar was about to speak, when someone else spoke up first. Lady Karsin.

    ¡°His Lordship speaks the truth,¡± she said after finishing a sip from the cup. ¡°I have been coercing him this entire time since our brief confrontation in his manor.¡±

    I swallowed a rising sense of disappointment. She was helping to protect him, but why?

    An answer we¡¯d arrived at the night before immediately rose in my head. The other shape-changers, whose identities we didn¡¯t know and who couldn¡¯t be tracked down. When half your race had been cut down or captured in so short a time, who wouldn¡¯t trade some things to keep them protected?

    The real answer there was how Lord Montague was threatening them. Their current identities maybe, which depending on how much they¡¯d been built up, might be enough to Lady Karsin. After all, everything was all but confirmed coming here, and now fully confirmed with the little stick of life energy she¡¯d touched. A little head start to her compatriots?

    They could shape change. What could he have?

    ¡°I am ultimately a victim, pulled to one side or another by forces I have barely understood,¡± Lord Montague growled. ¡°I¡¯d already been made a puppet long before that thing made it clear they would hunt every member of my family down if I didn¡¯t obey her every command. I have witnesses, people who she was willing to let live, who can attest to this. More, if that one hadn¡¯t murdered my bodyguard last night!¡±

    I sipped my tea again, eyes flicking to Voltar. Had he spotted something I hadn¡¯t? Because the longer Lord Montague talked, the more I felt an unease building in my chest. Doubt. The assumption that he¡¯d been the one leading this strange concerted effort between his house and the shape-changers had been mine. Some facts were born out by it, but I still doubted the shape-changer at the party would have been trying to kill Gregory without some influence or direction from his father.

    But how much of that was influence instead of control? Perhaps just a bone tossed in to keep a puppet from the point of cutting its strings, even if it no longer moved afterward?

    ¡°You claim to have been completely under Lady Karsin¡¯s thumb for everything after the party at your manor?¡± Voltar asked.

    ¡°Yes!¡± Montague exclaimed, nearly bursting from his chair. ¡°Arranging that tea party, signing those passes into the archives, all at their insistence! Trying to get ahold of those notes, although she would never tell me why!¡±

    The mention of the notes knocked something loose in my brain. Right. Timing.

    ¡°The same notes you¡¯d viewed days beforehand, without telling me or Voltar?¡± I interjected. ¡°The ones you looked at, despite the fact that you couldn¡¯t even look at those without a member of the royal family present? Shortly before your party had a suspiciously lax sense of security for a man knowing his party would become a trap? Those notes?¡±

    I seemed to have unbalanced his lordship, who seemed about to snap off a quick retort but seemed to think better of it. After a few seconds of thinking about his answer and then he spoke up.

    ¡°I was uncertain if I could share the information,¡± he said. ¡°The royal member who was with me values his privacy, and asked to be stricken from the records books.¡±

    ¡°Weak,¡± Voltar noted.

    ¡°Are your accusations any better, Voltar?¡± Montague snapped back. ¡°Or do you plan to have the little Foulhorn repeat more of your questions for you?¡±

    ¡°They aren¡¯t his questions,¡± I said. ¡°And your behavior at the party is most suspicious, your lordship. Or will you deny that I warned you about several security issues you then chose to ignore?¡±

    Montague ignored me, like a gut in my stomach as he continued trying to address Voltar.

    ¡°I will provide eyewitness testimony, as well as hard evidence, that everything I¡¯ve done has been at her bidding,¡± he said. ¡°That she has had metaphorical knives against my throat this entire time, till you killed enough of her minions that she couldn¡¯t keep one around me at all times.¡±

    ¡°By all means, keep throwing me under the carriage, darling,¡± Lady Karsin observed irritably. ¡°It¡¯s not like they don¡¯t have the evidence they need for me. Unlike you.¡±

    That caused Montague to pause, ending his tirade. A limit there to how much she was willing to be his fall girl?

    ¡°There is some truth in that,¡± Voltar said. ¡°While I have it on excellent authority that Lord Montague¡¯s authority over the Imperial Archives has been revoked-¡±

    Lord Montague released what could only be described as a squawk, followed by a roar of anger.

    ¡°They wouldn¡¯t dare. My family has had it for nearly two centuries. You will cease this, and return to me my so-¡±

    Okay, I¡¯d had enough. I lunged forward, and Lord Montague tried to aim his revolver.

    My tail wrapped around his wrist, bashing it against the table till he dropped the revolver. Meanwhile, my hand went around his throat.

    ¡°Thank you, Miss Harrow.¡±

    ¡°Not a problem,¡± I answered, tightening my grip, the threat of rot clear enough to the noble below. ¡°Lady Karsin, we do have some questions for you. You will be answering them.¡±

 Chapter 103 - Endgame VII

    Lady Karsin took another sip of tea, visibly unconcerned even as man-handled Lord Montague back into his chair. He loudly protested, but that halted as soon as my hand squeezed tighter around his throat.

    ¡°Miss Harrow, if you wouldn¡¯t mind checking him for any more weapons?¡± Voltar said.

    ¡°Teach your grandmother to suck eggs,¡± I said back, already riffling through his pockets. I turned nothing else up except a small knife, the blade smaller than my pinky but coated with something that made the blade¡¯s surface glossy.

    ¡°Poison of some kind, I¡¯d bet. Now, your lordship, shut up for a bit.¡±

    He looked like smoke might pour out of his ears and nostrils, but a nervous glance at the knife I know held made me doubt he¡¯d start anything. I couldn¡¯t identify whatever it was, but it must be nasty for the mere threat of being stabbed with it to keep him from arguing.

    He¡¯d brought it with such a tiny knife too, one where a minor cut could be something else on his person with a sharp edge. Decent odds he¡¯d planned on giving me and Voltar a pair of lethal cuts that could be blamed on accident, and if the poison was slow-acting enough, we would never have known.

    ¡°So, I am to answer questions, then?¡± Lady Karsin asked. ¡°How do you plan on making me answer them, Miss Harrow?¡±

    ¡°We have your son,¡± I said bluntly. ¡°I think his safety might be worth a few answers, especially since your scheme has been thoroughly exposed at this point.¡±

    ¡°You approve of this, Voltar?¡±

    I didn¡¯t look at Voltar. Trusting he¡¯d know presenting a united front was worth more than having our disagreements on the morality of this made public.

    One second passed, then two, both feeling like infinity till he spoke.

    ¡°In this case, I do Lady Karsin. One can hardly expect to threaten other¡¯s children and that no one will threaten their own in return.¡±

    Lady Karsin¡¯s expression turned even more glacial. ¡°So, then you¡¯ll hold yourself to the same standards I do then?¡±

    ¡°Discussing morality will not get you anywhere,¡± I said. ¡°We can have this conversation later, once the Watch has had you in custody for a while. It won¡¯t be as pleasant.¡±

    Actually, we would hande her over to the Drakes, but no need to mention that detail yet. They might be less willing to let us interrogate her after, but that would require her not to care about what would occur to Desmond. Was my guess wrong or right?

    Her smile finally collapsed in on itself, her expression faltering, as she could no longer keep it up, and fell into a sullen, baleful glare at the two of us.

    ¡°You really are quite the devious little sadist when you want to be, aren¡¯t you?¡± She said to me quietly.

    I shrugged. ¡°Next time, perhaps don¡¯t drag me or the Black Flame into your schemes. Pick fall people who are less likely to be vicious when they find out, perhaps. But we can get to those events later. First, I want to talk about Dustin Tary.¡±

    Lady Karsin muttered a few words under her breath in a language that I couldn¡¯t understand but did not sound pleasant.

    ¡°A name I¡¯ve had the joy of not needing to say for a long time,¡± she said. ¡°What information about that sadistic moron do you want?¡±

    Well, while it might be an act for now, I¡¯d take this as an indicator of her feelings on her creator.

    ¡°The beginning,¡± Voltar said. ¡°The ending. How we ended up in this situation. The broad details are discernable just from what happened. You and your fellows survived his failed attempt to replace all the nobles in his duchy with shape-changers and install himself as duke. You survived the attempt, came here, then laid low and built lives for yourselves, then found out about your creator¡¯s notes surviving and then enacted this plan.¡±

    She sighed in resignation. ¡°I can¡¯t speak much to what he wanted. He shared little more than orders with us. My life began in a lab. Initially, I was only vaguely aware of what was going on around me. My capacity to think was there, but I had no actual ability to learn yet. No sense but touch, and very little ability to determine what different things meant. I was one of the initial experiments that remained stable, so he tolerated my inability to grow just yet. I suppose that¡¯s why he grew impatient and fed me the first human he could.¡±

    No one bothered to interrupt as she stopped, looking at us, daring us to pass any kind of judgment.

    ¡°He¡¯d fed me dead things before, animals and the like, to make me grow. To feed the core growing inside me. Perhaps he realized absorbing someone else¡¯s intellect would enable me to think. Maybe he just needed to dispose of some victim of his schemes. He often would have breakthroughs by complete accident, then pretend he¡¯d planned them all along. It was hard to tell. He hoarded secrets. I was the first to wake, but soon others joined me. Hawkins, who you¡¯ve met. No one else from that first batch of changers survived his schemes. He tested to see if feeding us more would increase our capacities, but only the first corpse ever actually mattered.¡±

    She paused, taking another sip of tea. I used the lull to ask a question.

    ¡°Did he ever say why he wanted the duchy? His claim was already weak, and being the sole survivor atop the throne would have looked suspicious at any point after they discovered shape-changers in the duchy.¡±

    Lady Karsin scoffed. ¡°The simple answer is he never expected to be caught. Or for us to be discovered. After that he decided he could be the power behind the throne, ruling behind one of his younger relatives from the main line, safe from suspicion. That lasted till an adventuring party broke into his lab, having traced one of us back to it. It may have even been deliberate, and I wouldn¡¯t blame whichever of us it was. Constant experiments with no care if one of us died. He couldn¡¯t even bother to track which of us was which. No names, no numbers, no anything. The only time he called us names were those of the people we were impersonating.¡±

    Sounded like a rotten deal. I might have had a spot of sympathy, if not for everything that had happened over the last few weeks.

    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ¡°Well, it took time for them to root him out. Time some of us took to escape, try to find a place to escape, live, stay. We made our way here, only a bit over a dozen and no idea how to make more of us. We set up rules quickly. No replacing anyone prominent. Fake your own death every half-century. Don¡¯t let roots get set in to any identity. Don¡¯t get attached.¡±

    ¡°Failed that last one, didn¡¯t you?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Yes,¡± she replied, glaring at me. ¡°Yes, I did. And you didn¡¯t hesitate to exploit that, did you? Still, things went well. We slowly accrued wealth enough to live comfortably, enough to pursue our own goals. Enough to forget the past we¡¯d left behind.¡±

    ¡°Of course that¡¯s when Iserand had to find our creator¡¯s notes had survived. He worked briefly for the Archives, although not for long. Part of the rules was only to work places like that briefly, just to check for them. Otherwise, it was too dangerous. But this time they paid off, and we knew where they¡¯d gone. And it meant the possibility of making more of us, and some of us would never let a possibility like that go. Hawkins chief among them.¡±

    ¡°He was part of the archives, but you went after Lord Montague¡¯s heir instead of trying to have him grab them?¡± I asked.

    ¡°It took bribes to get a list of restricted books,¡± Lady Karsin explained, a little impatiently. ¡°Bribes that had already drawn attention. He never made it far in their hierarchy. Besides, anyone but a pure human making it to the last layer undetected is impossible. So instead they hatched a scheme to eventually gain control of the archives. And breaking the code we¡¯d set for ourselves to kill no one prominent.¡±

    ¡°Considering whose face you¡¯re wearing, I find that hard to believe,¡± I said.

    ¡°When I found Lady Karsin, she was just an elf wandering through the woods. I followed her for a few days, and she seemed so¡­tired. I thought it would be better than previous times.¡±

    ¡°And so you attempt to put a pretty face on murder,¡± Voltar said.

    Lady Karsin scoffed. ¡°Like anyone at this table is any better. Oh, do not look at me like that, Montague!¡±

    In all honesty, the look of disgust on Lord Montague¡¯s face probably had more to do with her having killed a noble than the morality of murder.

    ¡°So you went forward with the plan to poison Lord Montague¡¯s son,¡± Voltar continued. ¡°Dragging Miss Harrow in. The decision to frame the Black Flame was-¡±

    ¡°A necessity,¡± Lady Karsin said. ¡°Aartu would never have agreed to help if we couldn¡¯t use it to hurt the Black Flame. At the time I thought it was an inconvenience but workable. The Flame would be a decent bogeyman to use. If it weren¡¯t for one thing falling out of place, it might have even worked.¡±

    ¡°What you get for hiring shoddy henchmen,¡± I said. ¡°Pure-bloods being used were also one of their demands?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Lady Karsin said. ¡°Far below her radar. We were hoping to find catspaws that would be easy to manipulate and not insightful enough to figure things out until it was too late.¡±

    ¡°How could you know the notes would help?¡± Voltar said.

    Lady Karsin cocked her head to the side. ¡°Sorry?¡±

    ¡°The notes. The Imperials have had them for years, but have made none more of your kind. Or if they have, they¡¯ve been much more successful at hiding their existence. How could you know they¡¯d contain what you looked for?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a second half to the notes,¡± she answered. ¡°Ones we rescued from his lab when everything was falling apart. Secrets of our flesh were written there, ones we used to stabilize, to assume forms for longer. Parts of our biology he wrote nowhere else.¡±

    My eyes narrowed and my gaze darted over to Voltar. That¡­.I¡¯d assumed the Tarry notes couldn¡¯t possibly contain the secrets to create more shape-changers. If they had, the Imperial family would have surely started making some of their own by now. Given Her Majesty¡¯s ambitions and tendency to grasp everything in sight, they would have been exposed by now.

    But if the secret lay in some combination of the notes¡­.

    ¡°Interesting,¡± Voltar noted. ¡°Do these notes survive?¡±

    Lady Karsin''s lips quirked, and she swallowed another laugh. ¡°Burnt, last night, at my own hands. My race dies before it becomes slaves again.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t memorize the contents?¡± I asked.

    ¡°No,¡± she said, a hysterical giggle forcing its way from her throat. ¡°No bargaining, no information, no anything. If they want to learn how to make more of us, they can start from scratch.¡±

    The Imperial government wouldn¡¯t be starting from scratch, not with living shape-changers in custody, but this would be a setback to any program to make ones loyal to them. Once I¡¯d discovered the current method for detecting them, unsurprisingly, access to the experimental data from tests done on Hawkins had stopped arriving.

    Lady Karsin managed to get her mirth under control. ¡°I suppose the moment I leave, the Watch will take me into custody.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Voltar said, not even a hint of a lie in his voice. ¡°Or it might be Imperial Intelligence you eventually end up with. I suggest just telling the truth. It will go easier for all involved.¡±

    She grinned, teeth lengthening in her mouth. I quietly reached into my pockets for the focus, but when she didn¡¯t lunge at anyone I gave her a second.

    ¡°You left a detail out, Voltar. My son? What is going to happen to him?¡±

    Voltar stared at her, face unmoving for a few seconds, before he answered.

    ¡°He¡¯ll be returned to your estate and made the new Lord Karsin. You will die, probably said to be at a shape-changer¡¯s hands, which will explain your disappearance. In actuality, taken into custody. Which is where things come to their end. Miss Harrow, could you please-?¡±

    ¡°On it,¡± I said, getting up. ¡°Do me a favor and don¡¯t let Lord Montague poison you while I¡¯m gone.¡±

    His Lordship still kept his mouth shut at that, but I kept a closer eye on Lady Karsin.

    ¡°Afraid I¡¯ll try to kill you all and escape from the wreckage?¡± she asked as I lead her through the house.

    ¡°Always,¡± I replied. ¡°But I don¡¯t think it would work for you. Your secrets are too well known. I know where to stab with rot. Others know the tricks as well.¡±

    We¡¯d made it to the front door by then.

    Lady Karsin paused.

    ¡°If I were to leave through this doorway, what would I really find?¡±

    ¡°Three drakes,¡± I answered frankly. ¡°Same if you take any of the other ways out. They move rather quickly.¡±

    ¡°Ah,¡± she said, then chuckled mirthlessly. ¡°I should have guessed something like that is how your arranged their help. I can¡¯t imagine they were too happy with you.¡±

    ¡°They beat and drugged me,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ve endured worse. Honestly got lucky I didn¡¯t lose any digits. Those are always a pain to regrow.¡±

    She chuckled softly. ¡°Definitely the wrong target. Curse you Aartu, for both you and your deities¡¯ obsession. I thank you for the warning, Miss Harrow.¡±

    I inclined my head slightly. ¡°I sympathize. A little.¡±

    Trying to hold one¡¯s race together, finding a way to just survive in a world that feared and hated you? Oh, that resonated far too well with my own experiences. The story of Tarry and his creations was a little more removed, but at its core was it really any different?

    ¡°Enough for you to perhaps show me a more hidden way out?¡± she asked

    My smile turned into a toothy grin, every pointed fang laid bare.

    ¡°Don¡¯t push your luck.¡±

    Sympathy, but she¡¯d been one of those who¡¯d ruined the life I¡¯d built. Reluctantly, if you believed her story, but one of those ruiners all the same.

    She smiled. ¡°That¡¯s fair. Well, I do appreciate the warnings. My son will be taken care of?¡±

    That I did not know, but I had no reasons to doubt Voltar. ¡°The Empire wants a clean ending. Having to deal with questions about if the Lady Karsin who fought Her Most Profane Majesty was-¡±

    ¡°It was,¡± she said firmly. ¡°Some madness needs to be stopped, no matter the risk of discovery.¡±

    ¡°Well, I imagine they want as few inconvenient questions as possible. Having your house survive and you be one last victim of the shape-changers? That works.¡±

    It did for me as well, as much as I wanted her to bleed over what she¡¯d caused to me. But this was good enough. I had no doubt the drakes would catch her.

    ¡°I would have liked to talk to Desmond again,¡± she said, voice strained. ¡°You cannot call off the dogs set after me for-¡°

    ¡°No.¡±

    A mirthless giggle. ¡°Well, I suppose I deserve that. Goodbye, Miss Harrow. May our paths never cross again.¡±

    ¡°I remain quite confident they won¡¯t. Goodbye, Lady Karsin.¡±

    After shutting the door, I returned to our little tea party, ignoring the sounds coming from the outside street. No matter what happened out there, I remained confident in one thing.

    This mess was over. Now it was just the clean-up.

 Book 1 - Epilogue

    After leaving Lady Karsin to her probable demise, I walked back to the tea party, already sure that Lord Montague would leave without a hair on his head harmed.

    Oh, his custodianship of the Imperial Archive would be stripped, and he¡¯d face much higher scrutiny from those who knew. But if Voltar thought he could prove Lord Montague¡¯s alibi was false? He¡¯d have kept Lady Karsin around to break down his Lordship¡¯s allegations of being coerced. But he hadn¡¯t.

    I sat back down, mostly fulfilling my role as the one keeping Lord Montague cowed and behaving, but my heart wasn¡¯t in it as Voltar tried to pry apart his story. What had he promised Lady Karsin that she¡¯d protected him as her own ship sank? Protection for the other shape-changers? As long as they had a sufficient head start, that wasn¡¯t necessary. Her son? How he could help her, I couldn¡¯t guess.

    ¡°He¡¯ll want revenge on the both of us,¡± I said after he left, idly playing with the little pen-knife. I tossed it in the middle of the table, where it hit a teacup with a discordant ringing. ¡°Letting him leave? Mistake.¡±

    Voltar raised an eyebrow. ¡°I suppose we should have just killed him here then, and buried his body in the cellar?¡±

    No, you killed him someplace else while you were at a different place, publicly, and dumped his body in the Nover. If you got lucky, the river would completely dissolve it before the Watch fished it out, but typically enough got corroded they couldn¡¯t identify-no, no. Wrong kinds of thoughts for this, as tempting as it was to imagine that specific corpse getting eaten away.

    ¡°No, but pretending he won¡¯t be an issue is not a solution either,¡± I retorted. ¡°He¡¯ll want a strip out of our hides eventually, and I don¡¯t want to be constantly looking over my shoulders for him in addition to shape-changers and a drake.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯ll have his own issues to deal with,¡± Voltar said. ¡°And with the details of his indiscretions quietly spread among the nobility¡­well, if those noble families who lost family members to the shape-changers have questions about how unwilling his participation in their plans were, he may have his own shoulder to look over before troubling yours and mine.¡±

    It didn¡¯t sit right with me, but I could see the logic. If Imperial Intelligence overreached, the noble families would close ranks to avoid the precedent of one of their own being taken out. If instead it became a case of them handling Lord Montague themselves, it would be less contentious.

    ¡°Fine,¡± I conceded. ¡°I won¡¯t bring the matter up again. But there¡¯s one thing I need to discuss, and it¡¯s going to require finally meeting whoever is running the Imperial Intelligence side of this.¡±

    Three Days Later

    It took time to arrange a meeting, but surprisingly, not as much as I¡¯d expected. What had been more surprising was where the meet had been arranged.

    I sat once again in the little booth in Hell¡¯s Own, idly waiting for the contact to pop up from the trapdoor. Someone had a sense of humor. Choosing the same booth I¡¯d made a deal with Lord Montague in. Or maybe just a desire to show off how well-watched I was. Don¡¯t think about trying to run. We can find you no matter where you go.

    Edwards hadn¡¯t even seemed shocked at me coming inside, just mildly annoyed. How did he fit into all of this?

    Before I could muse too long on that, the trapdoor swung open. A face very full in the jowls with crimson muttonchops forced its way through, a blue top hat perched on top.

    The Imperial agent froze as my revolver¡¯s hammer went click.

    ¡°This seems a very interesting way to greet me, Miss Harrow,¡± he said cautiously. ¡°May I please come the rest of the way up?¡±

    I eased up on the hammer, letting it harmlessly slide back into place. ¡°Apologies. I¡¯ve had the most terrible luck with people bearing top hats recently.¡±

    ¡°Hrrm, well unfortunately I will insist on keeping my lucky hat on me at all times.¡±

    Lucky? Enchanted was more likely. The Intelligence agent pulled himself the rest of the way out of the trapdoor, a slightly overweight man who settled in the seat across from me.

    I chuckled as I took a closer look at his face. More flesh on the bones, but the bone structure, the tone, everything was so similar it was easy enough to nail.

    ¡°Sibling rivalry?¡± I chortled. ¡°That¡¯s why he doesn¡¯t enjoy meeting with you?¡±

    The Imperial Intelligence agent blinked, then grinned. ¡°Ah. Biosculptor, I should have remembered that part. Yes, that bit of added awkwardness makes debriefings rather difficult, but no, Edmund¡¯s decision to keep a bit of distance between himself and Intelligence has nothing to do with us being brothers. He just dislikes people looking over his work without permission. Respecting that is why this was put off for so long.¡±

    ¡°Family ties?¡± I couldn¡¯t imagine sticking my neck out for any of my family except my mother, to be perfectly honest.

    ¡°Yes, but also value,¡± the agent admitted. ¡°Voltar¡¯s aid is useful for the cases he agrees to. But anyway, my name is Samuel Voltar, and in addition to my brother and Tagashin, I will be your main point of contact for now. Which means we should get all the introductory things involved with you working for Imperial Intelligence out of the way.¡±

    I put my revolver fully away, still within easy grasp if something occurred, but making it clear I did not intend any violence. ¡°Not as an agent, was my understanding?¡±

    ¡°No. We have several diabolists that we¡­well the polite term would be monitored to make sure no unfortunate accidents happen and have on retainer for their services to be used. In return for some non-negotiable specifics.¡±

    ¡°Such as?¡±

    Samuel¡¯s tone took a turn for the more serious. ¡°No summoning diabolic entities. No maintaining diabolic entities presence in this world, although we will make an exception for the thing in your head since you didn¡¯t put it there, although I¡¯d prefer you kept it asleep.¡±

    And I would prefer to gnaw on the fat you have spent so long collecting, mortal. We do not always get what we want.

    Samuel snorted. ¡°Indeed. Now, in addition to that-¡±

    Wait. You can hear me, mortal?

    ¡°Of course. I manage Diabolists. Do you think I would not have tools to listen in on whatever insanity they¡¯ve plugged into their own heads?¡±

    ¡°Enough about the Imp,¡± I interrupted. ¡°I¡¯m willing to agree to your terms. I don¡¯t have a lot of choices in the matter of whether I want to keep my head on my shoulders. But I want something in return. Not anything fancy. Just someplace a little separate from your brother.¡±

    ¡°Ah,¡± Samuel said, nodding sagely. ¡°He still snores, doesn¡¯t he?¡±

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    One Week Later

    My tail wagged as I leaned against the countertop.

    Oh, it was cheap wood, and the varnish wasn¡¯t perfectly applied and still stank a little too much of that freshly coated smell, but it was mine. Same with the two-story building this counter was nestled in, the stocks of herbs, and the bedroom up above, all owned in my name.

    Open for business, although I expected it would take time before anyone checked out the little alchemist¡¯s shop tucked in a corner of the Infernal Quarter. I¡¯d sent a pair of invitations out for the grand opening, one of whom was sitting right next to me.

    ¡°It¡¯s a nice place,¡± Tolman said, as he had a cup of tea I¡¯d forced onto him instead of mead. ¡°But still, ¡®Harrow¡¯s Herbs¡¯?¡±

    ¡°Alliteration is a great way to make a name stick,¡± I replied. ¡°Besides, my other names don¡¯t have a good second word to combine with.¡±

    ¡°Well, name aside, it is a rather nice set-up,¡± Tolman said.

    ¡°It¡¯s probably your last time inside it though,¡± I said casually.

    Tolman chuckled, my tone registering before my words did as the laugh cut off. ¡°Malvia?¡±

    My hand gripped the handle of my cup to the point I could hear the cracking starting, but I needed something to clamp down on. I¡¯d invited him because of thinking things through from the start, and better to deal with the realization that had occurred now instead of later. ¡°Did you think I wouldn¡¯t notice? Golvar knowing I was near the Hells¡¯ Own? I suppose that could be chalked up to coincidence, but knowing what I looked like? Versalicci is good, but he¡¯s not that good.¡±

    Tolman paled, shaking a little as he got up. From anger or fear, I couldn¡¯t tell. Or was it all just a mask?

    ¡°You¡¯re being paranoid, Malvia,¡± he finally said, sounding tired. ¡°I can¡¯t entirely blame you after what happened, but what evidence do you have? Any?¡±

    ¡°None,¡± I hissed. ¡°But I was meticulous. And you were always there to lend a hand, weren¡¯t you Tolman? Always there to nudge me towards thinking meeting him again wouldn¡¯t be so bad? You going to claim I can¡¯t see what¡¯s in front of my face, Tolman?¡±

    He opened his mouth, and then whatever he was about to say stalled. Eventually, he gathered up a response as his face grew more solemn.

    ¡°I think whatever I might say next would only make this worse,¡± he said finally. ¡°You theorize an answer, you stick to it regardless of what other possibilities might exist, Malvia. So, yeah, I¡¯ll go. Just hope one of these days you learn other people can be right.¡±

    My teacup shattered before he was out the door.

    One Hour Later

    One replaced teacup later, I idly waited behind the counter. A few people had wandered in, looking at the ingredients. No prepared concoctions yet. I hadn¡¯t had time, and no orders without evidence I could do it, but that would change. I just needed some time to become established.

    The door opened, a familiar figure stepping through and I forced my tail to stop moving.

    ¡°Why, Gregory,¡± I greeted him. ¡°Welcome to-¡±

    ¡°Malvia,¡± Gregory interrupted, voice uncharacteristically cold. ¡°Where is my brother?¡±

    I froze. ¡°Which one? Because I have seen none of your siblings since-¡±

    ¡°Edward,¡± he interrupted again. ¡°The one you kidnapped.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s not turned up?¡± I asked quietly. ¡°That¡­Intelligence shouldn¡¯t have had a reason. The Drakes?¡±

    ¡°The mere fact I don¡¯t know that those were potential groups to have him is infuriating,¡± Gregory said. ¡°But an improvement to what I thought, which is that you abducted him to stab him with a dagger.¡±

    ¡°I¡­.what?¡± I responded, dumbfounded. ¡°No. No, I needed a reason for your father to not run, so we could trap him and end this.¡±

    ¡°Considering he is at home, I see that went well. I¡¯d hoped he lied about you being the one to kidnap Edward, but you already confirmed that.¡±

    ¡°Your father had him locked up,¡± I replied, scowling. ¡°I might as well have plucked him out of a prison.¡±

    ¡°Father was probably trying to help, misguided as it usually is. And at least it was a prison where the rest of us knew where he probably was, as opposed to now where he¡¯s completely disappeared!¡± Gregory snapped.

    ¡°It was the only option-¡±

    ¡°The only option you wanted, consulting no one else,¡± Gregory yelled. ¡°Cutting us out, attacking our home with drakes?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t want your father being tipped off!¡± I yelled back. ¡°Yes, he slipped away, but it¡¯s not like I could have predicted that. Would you prefer I just shoot him instead?¡±

    ¡°Ignore my family, Malvia,¡± Gregory said, face reddening. ¡°I talk with the staff of the Archives Malvia and still do, despite my father getting his custodianship removed. I want one truthful answer. Did you or did you not try to bite Alex Martel¡¯s fingers off just so you could get some information out of him?¡±

    I¡­that was what this was about?

    ¡°It didn¡¯t come to that,¡± I said. ¡°Besides, torture is ineffectu-¡±

    ¡°Platitudes about how torture isn¡¯t effective at getting information out of people aren¡¯t very convincing about you not using it,¡± Gregory snapped. ¡°Not when I can see the goddamn tooth marks on his finger where you nearly bit through a finger.¡±

    ¡°I...I wouldn¡¯t have actually hurt him,¡± I stammered out.

    That lie tasted like ash in my mouth, and from how Gregory looked at me, it might as well be made of ash.

    ¡°You don¡¯t believe that,¡± he said flatly. ¡°I used to think these were jokes, or you weren¡¯t serious, but they aren¡¯t, are they? Don¡¯t answer that. I¡¯ve been to the Watch, asked for your file. Tell me Malvia, where would you have stopped? At his fingers, or would you have gone to his toes next? Or would you have decided to not eat more of him and decided on some new brand of torture to move onto? Or just go straight for the throat, since you seem to like biting it out so much?¡±

    Something inside me snapped at that. ¡°I do not fucking eat people!¡± I yelled at him.

    ¡°Never have I once eaten sentient flesh!¡±

    ¡°Well, I guess we finally found a moral standard you might actually follow no matter what happens!¡± he roared back.

    Neither of us moved. Neither of us said anything. Neither of us looked away first. Finally, I managed to get something past my lips.

    ¡°Get the fuck out of my store before I tear your throat out.¡±

    The grand opening of my store lasted less than an hour.

    One Week Later

    Three Infernals walked along a path cut into fields, the little dirt road a carved indentation breaking up the wheat fields on either side of them. One in the lead, one on each flank, a little to the back, dressed in smart suits and riding boots as they continued their march down the road.

    ¡°How much longer do you reckon, Malachti?¡± One of the flankers said, her eyes on the seemingly endless rows of grain on her side. ¡°Can¡¯t imagine those folks at the train station are gonna be that far behind us.¡±

    The leader chuckled, briefly glancing back with eyes glowing red.

    ¡°Sarsa, calm yourself. Despite all the stares and the whispers and I¡¯m sure everything bad you¡¯ve heard about the sticks, they aren¡¯t going to just lynch us out here in the wilderness. They¡¯ll be good civilized folk and do it at the train station.¡±

    ¡°You got a plan for that, right?¡± the other flanking member said.

    ¡°I¡¯ll think of something. Right now, I¡¯m just glad they¡¯ve come to accept our old comrade as one of their own. I¡¯m assuming they have, since you so clearly know we are here, old friend!¡±

    Silence, then a figure pushed through the wheat, a long shotgun held in their hands. The two juniors reached inside their coats, going for revolvers, but the leader waved them off, expression unconcerned.

    She was short but well-muscled, and looked like she could lift them each in a single hand if she were taller. Instead, they cradled a shotgun as a thickly muscled tail smacked the ground, shaking it. Red skin glinted in the afternoon sun.

    ¡°I got no idea how the fuck you all found out I¡¯m alive or where I live,¡± the burly Infernal hissed, leveling the shotgun. ¡°But you got five seconds to return to where you came from, especially you, Malachti! That goes for any more Flame that comes here either.¡±

    The lead Black Flame member held up his hands placatingly. ¡°No need for that. We¡¯ll leave soon. The boss just had something he thought you should see.¡±

    ¡°You cut yourself down to three. One, two-¡±

    ¡°Harrow¡¯s alive.¡±

    The burly Infernal stopped her count, eyes widening, hesitated, and then chuckled. ¡°Forget the shotgun. Imma tear your entrails out your lyin¡¯ mouth for that one Malachti.¡±

    ¡°Lie? Me? Never, but to convince you, the boss outfitted me with proof, something you aren¡¯t likely to run across out here in the sticks.¡± Malachti reached inside his coat, producing a newspaper from inside. ¡°Imperial Herald, a few days old, but still very relevant, and information you haven¡¯t seen yet. Front article first, is what I¡¯d suggest.¡±

    She eyed it suspiciously. ¡°It¡¯s another article about Voltar and Dawes, and shapeshifters, going by the headline. Boss¡¯ old nemesis making trouble worth your intestines coming out the long way?¡±

    Malachti rolled his eye, rolling the paper up and tossing it over to her. ¡°Just read the main article.¡±

    Raising an eyebrow, the Infernal tried to balance the shotgun while shaking the newspaper open with her free hand.

    ¡°Get a few paragraphs in,¡± Malachti suggested, then quickly shut his mouth as she pulled the hammer back on the shotgun.

    The Infernal muttered angrily as she read further along the article, the furious words growing loud enough all the Flame members could hear them. ¡°With the aid of an Infernal named Malvia Harrow¡­¡­expose grand shapechanger and Black Flame plot to strike at the empire¡­masterminded by Black Flame diabolist Alice Skall, caught by the magnificent detective and his trusty sidekicks.¡±

    ¡°Time to leave,¡± Malachti told the pair of junior members. ¡°Best not to be within punching distance when she goes off.¡±

    The newspaper crumpled in her hands, tears forming as the three Black Flame members beat a swift retreat from the Infernal as she ripped the paper to shreds. Flames ignited in her hands, burning an intense, deep, black.

    ¡°Malvia!¡±

 Interlude: Skall - Part 1

    Five Years Ago

    Alice Skall felt the crunch of sand under her boots as she kept her back firmly against the wall. The rough wood wasn¡¯t comfortable, but like hells was she turning her back to anyone. Not on the surface, especially not in Understreet, and definitely not in the headquarters of the Black Flame.

    So far it wasn¡¯t impressive, but she hadn¡¯t seen too much of it yet, just endless underground structures and tunnels carved out of granite. Walking through some reeking, slimy tunnel to a nondescript wall that had opened up. She¡¯d been bustled through the area, blindfold kept firmly on and the recruiter making it clear that a knife would tickle her throat if she so much as tried to peep.

    They¡¯d brought her here, and told to wait with the others after a long trek through the tunnels down here.

    Alice didn¡¯t have a choice in this. She¡¯d built a reputation that had kept her mostly safe. Most folks could take her in a fight, but it wasn¡¯t worth the bother for the bit of space she¡¯d claimed in the Dredge. A little section of a ruined warehouse that got flooded when the Nover overflowed its banks wasn¡¯t worth having your eye gouged out or a busted knee. Either of those was a swift death sentence in the quarter.

    But it would not last. Space was getting tighter, and the Watch sure as hells weren¡¯t letting people out to relieve the pressure. When she¡¯d woken up to two strangers looming overhead with an offer, she took it.

    The fact she¡¯d never known they¡¯d been there ''til one nudged her awake had helped convince her to take that offer.

    So now here she was, leaning and scowling and hoping that a scrap of reputation kept anyone from messing with her.

    They¡¯d brought her down to a fighting pit, or at least that¡¯s what she assumed. Walls of wood taller than her head around a circular, sand-filled pit. Seating further above, radiating out. Those seats were empty for now, occasionally someone passing through and stealing a glance into the pit before continuing on their way.

    Alice didn¡¯t like that. Being stuck in a fighting pit, not with everyone else down here.

    There were only two other trainees here. One was a bookish fellow who didn¡¯t look like he belonged. His weak gaze and nervous glancing didn¡¯t help with that impression. But his hands didn¡¯t quiver or shake, which caught her eye.

    The last one stared cockily her way when she looked up, easily with a head and a half on her and just as wide. He winked at her, scars criss-crossing his face.

    Alice knew some idiots who carved themselves up like that just to look intimidating. With luck, he was one of those, so he wouldn¡¯t be too dangerous. He would, however, be dumb enough to mess with one of them to prove his dominance. Which meant probably biting some important part of his anatomy off. Only thing that worked on these types, and it gave a rep that made people leave you alone. So, two threats, one of whom was more passive than the other.

    Of course, that ignored the five in the middle of the pit, each of whom was pointedly ignoring the three trainees, all of them with a flaming goat¡¯s head carved into their upper arms.

    Full members of the Flame, ranging from a short, grinning one in a battered top hat to a hulking giant who might as well be hewn from rock. One wearing a cloak with a dozen Watch badges sewn to its outside to a well-dressed one with a missing eye. And finally, someone who didn¡¯t look like any other Infernal Alice had ever seen, with almond-shaped eyes and a wider nose, reading a book. Strange to see one of those not being used as kindling, but Alice supposed the Black Flame actually bothered to teach people how to read.

    Being able to spell her own name, Alice might have a head-start on those.

    Please let whatever reason they¡¯d all been brought here, not be some test where the three of them needed to take on these five. Alice could throw down for a scrap, being the crazed lunatic no one would mess with was what had kept her alive, but she knew that three versus five weren¡¯t winning odds, even if the shaker¡¯s steady hands meant something and the brash one would take orders.

    No one else had shown up since she¡¯d been shoved in here, and no one had spoken a word yet.

    That was going to change soon.

    She scowled at the largest Infernal as he started walking over. The other trainee just winked again. Was he trying to communicate in code? Flirt? What the hells was his issue?

    His moving got the five in the middle to look over their way, but only briefly. Top hat smirked, then nudged the Giant, whispering something that made Foreigner and Cloak roll their eyes and One-eye wince.

    She stayed still as the other trainee settled in near her, shoulders almost touching.

    ¡°So,¡± he said, looking down at her from the corner of his eyes. ¡°You new here too?¡±

    She grunted noncommittally in response. The sudden movement had the bookish one looking her way now, and his eyes had narrowed. Definitely more to that one.

    ¡°I think you are,¡± the brash one said, leaving the wall, now in front of her and peering down. ¡°You¡¯re Alice Skall, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    She yawned. ¡°Yes, I am she. Seen my handiwork?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± he added, friendliness draining out of his voice. ¡°You¡¯re the bitch who bit my sister¡¯s nose off. Got anything to say to that?¡±

    She didn¡¯t, except to get ready. Making any moves for the head-knocker hidden in her jacket would probably provoke an attack, but she quietly shifted position, getting ready as she stared up at his face, gaze full of casual condescension. Which sister might that be? Was it the one who¡¯d snuck in at night trying to steal her stuff, and she sent packing minus a nose and two fingers?

    ¡°Is this part of some test, or is this one just being an idiot?¡± she called out to the five in the middle.

    His eyes narrowed, his hand going inside his threadbare coat.

    ¡°Come on,¡± he snapped, leaning down. ¡°Pay attention to me, you little-¡±

    She pushed off of the wall, horns and head ramming into his own with a heavy smack. Pain sprouted in her head, but she felt his nose twist and snap.

    He recoiled, but he wasn¡¯t grabbing for his nose or taking his eyes off her. Despite the pain inside and the tears in her eyes, she hurried.

    While he was distracted by the tears in his own eyes, she aimed the next blow well. The point of her boot went right between his legs, and he crumped downward. No one else was moving, or interfering, which she¡¯d expected by now. Alright. She could hardly back down now, so she moved towards him, the jaws closing down around his ear and preparing to bite.

    A gunshot rang out, thunderous as it echoed inside the room. Alice moved backward, fists up as she turned to face an unknown threat, teeth ready to sink into this one instead.

    An older, green-skinned Infernal with dimly glowing eyes pulled the hammer back on his revolver, chamber turning. ¡°Don¡¯t even think about it, lass. You try to bite me, we got a body to dump in the streets, and I got to go pick up another rat to fill in the quota. You lot. I told you to keep an eye on these three?¡±

    ¡°You did,¡± Ragged top-hat said. ¡°Big boy here tried pushing some of the other recruits around. One retaliated. I¡¯d say an ear is a pretty even trade for deciding to shake down a fellow recruit, don¡¯t you, Golvar?¡±

    ¡°Boss to you, lickspittle,¡± the green-skinned Infernal snapped. ¡°You quit your whimpering!¡±

    That was barked at the large Infernal on the ground, who was currently trying to force his nose back in place.

    ¡°Calmere, Tally, drag this one to the infirmary. Get his nose fixed properly. Maybe we can try him later. You, girl, your name?¡±

    Alice blinked lazily, drawing it out. ¡°Skall, Alice Skall.¡±

    ¡°Congrats. You just got your first week¡¯s wage docked.¡±

    ¡°He came at me,¡± she sneered. ¡°Was I supposed to let him beat me?¡±

    ¡°No, you were supposed to avoid him till these five handled it. Which is a good point, you lot have anything to say for yourselves? Or were all five of you terrified of some random asshole?¡±

    The foreigner finally shut her book, speaking in a flat, bored tone. ¡°One of them decided to assert his dominance over the other, paid for his overconfidence, and perfectly demonstrated why he will probably be drummed out. Always know how intimidation will turn out before you do it.¡±

    ¡°Excellent, Malvia,¡± Golvar said. ¡°Almost like the boss said it himself. Still, he¡¯s gonna get an extra chance, and you five should have stepped in anyway, so your pay is getting docked instead.¡±

    That got a few moans and groans from the cloak wearer and the one with the missing eye, but not the other three. Either Golvar was joking or they didn¡¯t care too much, which had to be the former. Who the hells wouldn¡¯t be upset about losing money?

    ¡°Gods, this is a miserable lot,¡± Golvar said, looking over her then the bookish one. ¡°This is really all they could bring me?¡±

    ¡°Perhaps you should ask the boss about lowering our standards again,¡± Ragged-hat said.

    ¡°Perhaps you should have another stint unclogging the plumbing in this place, Malachti,¡± Golvar said. ¡°You wanna go bother the Boss about it, see if he finds it useful, go ahead. Think he¡¯s aboveground trying to keep everyone from freezing to death this winter, see if he finds it amusing.¡±

    Right. The ¡®Boss¡¯. Giovanni Versalicci. Alice had actually seen him twice, when the Black Flame showed up in force, usually to bring some semblance of order to whatever catastrophe had hit the Quarter latest. Fire, raid, Halpsus priests deciding to attack in the name of their god, and the Watch doing fuck all.

    Those assholes joined in half the time to help them burn anyone remotely suspicious with that never-to-be-sufficiently-damned-Light. Raring to nail some silver spikes through people¡¯s eyes.

    ¡°Don¡¯t suppose he¡¯ll be down soon?¡± She asked, licking at some of the blood on her tooth.

    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    Never hurt, playing into people¡¯s expectations, although none of those here seemed too impressed.

    ¡°You got any reason for wanting to know that, trainee?¡± Golvar asked.

    Oh. Shit. Probably not the right question to ask, considering how many people probably wanted Versalicci¡¯s head.

    ¡°Nah,¡± she said casually. ¡°Just wondering if we might see him as he comes back or something.¡±

    ¡°You won¡¯t meet the boss for a while,¡± Golvar said, then considered the one being taken away. ¡°Well, except maybe him if the boss is heading through the infirmary or something. But nah, fresh fish like you don¡¯t meet with the boss. Not until you earned your flames, and that¡¯ll be awhile.¡±

    ¡°You have to bring in a dozen Watch heads,¡± Ragged Hat said.

    ¡°You don¡¯t,¡± Golvar corrected immediately, rolling his eyes. ¡°These five are here to help me herd you, and in case anything goes wrong. Malvia, Mitlau, Maria, Malachti, Morder. You can already put together whose name goes with who, hopefully. If not, you¡¯ll figure it out. Now, we are behind schedule, and I gotta take time out of my busy as hell life to oversee you two getting your beaks wet.¡±

    ¡°Sorry, but do we have to change our names to something starting with an ¡®M¡¯?¡± The bookish one asked in a quivering tone that Alice was pretty sure was fake. She couldn¡¯t tell for certain.

    The middle one laughed, the beaten-up top hat threatening to fall apart from the movement. ¡°Nah, four of us had them hung on us by our parents. Malvia picked hers because she¡¯s an edgy little scapegrace.¡±

    The foreigner¡¯s neutral expression turned into a scornful scowl as she looked at the top hat wearer. ¡°This is why no one likes sharing details with you, Malachti.¡±

    ¡°Oh please,¡± Malachti scoffed. ¡°Did you think sharing that with me wouldn¡¯t cause it being used? Or did you think you¡¯d impress me by saying you picked the first one cause it sounded like malevolence and the second one because of what harrow supposedly means?¡±

    The muscle, Mitlau, grunted. ¡°Still say it¡¯s a farming tool.¡±

    ¡°That is not all it is,¡± the foreigner said, her scowl deepening.

    ¡°It¡¯s the one most people are going to know,¡± Mitlau said. ¡°Ain¡¯t like many use that other one.¡±

    ¡°Just ignore her. It¡¯s what most of us do anyway,¡± Malachti told Alice and the others.

    ¡°I once again note you didn¡¯t need to drag this many of us with you to train the recruits,¡± Malvia said, talking to Golvar.

    ¡°Noted. I don¡¯t care. I¡¯m not heading through those tunnels with less than six, and I want some spare bodies to shove behind us in case something tries to eat us.¡±

    Alice tried not to frown. The tunnels leading down here weren¡¯t clear of creatures? If she¡¯d known that when they¡¯d brought her down, she¡¯d have insisted on being allowed more than her wooden head-knocker.

    Still, with this many people, there shouldn¡¯t be a problem. When Maria gestured for her to fall into line between herself and Morder, Alice followed, licking the rest of the blood off her teeth.

    ***

    After close to an hour of trekking, they finally reached the surface, emerging into the quarter itself from an old Dwarf Gate.

    On all three sides of it, the blackened, charred skeletons of buildings stood, remnants of the last fire to sweep through the Quarter. Desiccated walls remained little more than waist-high.

    It was too recent for rebuilding to have happened. Alice could remember it. Hells the bruises from it still ached. She¡¯d had to fight hard for her bit of a building then, only to be forced to concede. There was no holding back the flood when the flames had forced a wave of Infernals to the partially Nover flooded part of the district, hoping the river wouldn¡¯t catch alight and the water would keep the flames at bay.

    It had kept them at bay long enough. Long enough for city mages to conjure rain to put out that roaring inferno. Not to save them, of course. It had threatened another neighborhood. And even if the fire had never reached into the Nover¡­Alice closed her eyes, still remembering the heat, scorching in its intensity, the screaming of those unable to make it to safety fast enough.

    Part of why she¡¯d been willing to take that offer. Standing buildings would be squabbled and fought over soon, now that the heaving mass they called the Nover River had finally frozen. No more deciding between freezing in the cold snow or the chilly waters for those who¡¯d stayed out of the flooded district.

    Case in point, bundles of rags started moving as soon as they emerged from the gate, sleeping figures struggling to rouse themselves either from sleep or the snow¡¯s chilly grip. Some didn¡¯t move at all. Earlier than normal. This was going to be a cold one.

    You could tell people were trying to find warmer shelter, though. You could actually walk through the alley and only have to worry about stepping on someone every other step.

    The bundles kept their distance, watching while Golvar cleared his throat.

    ¡°Giovanni Versalicci is passing out food, blankets, and fuel two blocks down from the Hells'' Own,¡± he announced. ¡°We¡¯ll do it from this gate at some point soon, but if you can¡¯t wait, that¡¯s where it is for now. If you¡¯re not in touch with one of the groups we organize with.¡±

    Some of the Infernals moved, maybe half. The rest stayed, unwilling or maybe even unable to make the journey.

    Golvar led them through, past those, into more crowded areas, past about three blocks as snow swirled around. The freezing considered their luck, considered Alice¡¯s group, and decided it wasn¡¯t cold enough yet for an almost assured death as Golvar led them to a small warehouse. One of the walls had fallen in, leaving the roof sluggishly held up by the three remaining walls, slumping towards the ground.

    There was a veritable host inside, but they cleared out as Golvar entered. It didn¡¯t take long for him to uncover a metal trapdoor.

    ¡°Tunnels?¡± the bookish one said, looking cautiously at the trapdoor. ¡°You want us to head underground?¡±

    Alice added to his complaint. ¡°You brought us all the way to the surface for us to go back underground?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, and if that¡¯s an issue, this is going to be one of the easiest things you¡¯re asked to do,¡± Golvar said. ¡°Amazingly, when people have trekked up to the surface, people don¡¯t expect them to head back down. Helps keep places like this secret. Now, as for why tunnels? We don¡¯t rob from our own, and close to no non-Infernals live in the quarter. So, tunnels. Aboveground, Watch has got enough presence that getting out is tricky with a group this size. Underground, between the beasties and the Dwarves squabbling with Her Majesty over territory? Much easier to slip through. The only ones who got this fully mapped out are the dwarves, and with those tensions, well, long as we don¡¯t make too much noise, they¡¯ll turn a blind eye to us traveling through. So come on my little teef-lings, we¡¯ve got rich humans to rob to help those in need.¡±

    Golvar disappeared down the trapdoor, Morder and Maria right behind him.

    ¡°Teef-ling?¡± the bookish one asked.

    ¡°Teeth,¡± Malachti said, opening his mouth and pointing at his own set of pointy fangs. ¡°The rest? No idea. Hey professor, you got any idea what the rest of it means?¡±

    Malvia didn¡¯t respond, already down the trapdoor.

    ¡°Always ducking out of responsibility,¡± Malachti said with an exaggerated sigh. ¡°We were supposed to wait til all you fresh blood was down there before heading down ourselves. We are forever doomed to be the reliable ones, aren¡¯t we Mitlau?¡±

    ¡°Seems that way,¡± Mitlau rumbled, but Alice missed the rest of the conversation, already heading down the steps. Something about those two¡­she¡¯d rather take the three relatively silent ones than potentially be stuck with the new ones and those two.

    ****

    The tunnels lead to a trapdoor, which lead to a cellar, racks of wine on all sides as the group of Infernals unloaded into it.

    Alice resisted the urge to whistle. Skall didn¡¯t whistle, and also it would make noise. Hells forget her part of it. This was bigger than the entire house near the Nover she currently lived in. And this was just the wine cellar?

    ¡°Maria,¡± Golvar whispered, pointing at the cellar door.

    The cloaked Infernal nodded, moving to it and pressing an ear against the keyhole. Time ticked by, Alice resisting the urge to move too much.

    ¡°It¡¯s clear,¡± Maria said, standing up and opening the cellar door. Warm air flooded the cellar as they hurried up.

    Alice gawked a little as she emerged into a hall bigger than her little scrap of space in the flooded district.

    The walls here didn¡¯t have holes, not even tiny ones to peer through into the next room. Mostly wood paneling, some of it carved into intricate patterns detailing scenes like out of a storybook page before you burnt it. Hells, they had wallpaper on their walls!

    A clock chimed, startling her. They came in sizes that big but you could still put in your house? It was easily twice her height! And the hall ceiling was bigger than most warehouses!

    ¡°This is a property on the northern edge of Alabaster Hills,¡± Golvar said, mentioning one of the more wealthy neighborhoods in the city. ¡°Currently? The owners use it as a home when they aren¡¯t on their estates in the country and need to come here. So no nicking any silverware or messing with any furniture. We need this place to look normal for when they come back. You bend some fancy silver knife, and your share of any jobs is getting docked to buy a replacement that matches perfectly. If you wreck some one-of-a-kind heirloom? You¡¯re paying for the revenue we¡¯ll lose for having to leave this place. Damage part of the building, I¡¯m using your intestines as lining for my boots. Get spotted outside here? I¡¯m leaving you for the Watch and we¡¯ll see how many fingers get snipped til they become convinced you know nothing. I¡¯m going to peek outside real quick, make sure no one is lurking about.¡±

    ¡°He doesn¡¯t mean that,¡± Morder whispered to them as Golvar walked further inside the house. ¡°Nobody gets left for good inside the Coffin, and a bunch of us have been inside the Coffin before and made it out. Everyone but Maria.¡±

    ¡°And I intend it to stay that way,¡± Maria snapped. ¡°So how about you actually listen to what Golvar said?¡±

    Alice looked over each of the five full members of the Flame. Not any scars she could see on them, and no missing digits either. Golvar hadn¡¯t kidded when he¡¯d mentioned clipped digits. She¡¯d seen some survivors of the Watch prison. Severed fingers had been one of the more minor tortures they used on those unfortunate enough to be brought in for ¡®questioning¡¯.

    ¡°You seem pretty intact for people who have been inside the Coffin.¡±

    Malachti grinned, wiggling all the fingers on his right hand. ¡°It¡¯s a secret. If you ever lose some fingers, you¡¯ll find out quick enough. But Maria is right, best to respect the rules, because Golvar won¡¯t let anyone heal your ribs once he¡¯s done kicking them out of place.¡±

    ¡°Noted,¡± the bookish trainee said, any attempt at a quake gone from his voice. ¡°What are we to do?¡±

    A good question. So far they¡¯d spent two hours walking, mostly to just hang about in some fancy family vacation home? She doubted it.

    ¡°Right now, we wait,¡± Morder explained while Malachti moved into another room, waving for Mitlau to follow him. ¡°When Golvar is convinced no one knows we¡¯re here, we¡¯ll take you out, see how well you can stay undetected by the Watch outside the Quarter. Just to get an idea of your skills. Don¡¯t worry too much. Watch patrols here are down. Too busy dealing with the Kelts rioting in the ports to keep patrols going, and the private guards the rich hire don¡¯t look too closely if you aren¡¯t trying to break into the houses. They¡¯ll report it, but only once the day comes and they aren¡¯t worried about getting knifed once they venture too far from their employer¡¯s property. Malvia¡¯s been on more of these than most of us, isn¡¯t that right?¡±

    Malvia had set herself up near a bench, leaning against the wall with her eyes closed. Alice realized that not only was the fifth one, Maria, gone, but she couldn¡¯t remember seeing her leave.

    She¡¯d have to make sure that never happened again.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Malvia said, not bothering to open her eyes. ¡°Mostly because he enjoys inconveniencing me. They typically aren¡¯t lethal as long as you keep a level head. Explore the house some, get used to the layout. When we have bigger jobs in this neighborhood, we¡¯ll be based out of here more often than not.¡±

    Morder had gone to join Mitlau and Malachti, leaving only Alice, the bookish Infernal whose name she still didn¡¯t know, and Malvia. The bookish Infernal traded a look with Alice, then ventured towards what looked like the kitchen.

    Alice went up the stairs, not feeling hungry and also not wanting to tempt Golvar¡¯s anger for a bit of food, no matter how rich it might be.

    Now this furniture? Hells, that was tempting to take some pieces off of. Some of those decorations looked gold, and that silverware looked like actual silver instead of tin. She ended up in a sitting room, looking over a painting, trying to figure out if it was actually worth anything.

    It was just a woman smiling, which probably didn¡¯t mean much, but it, being the centerpiece of the room, hinted at it being worth something.

    After a while, she let those idle thoughts fade. It¡¯s not like she could smuggle more than some silverware, maybe some other odds and ends. Assuming Golvar wouldn¡¯t notice. He seemed like the kind of person to tally each and every piece just in case someone disobeyed him.

    She did try one of the chairs by the table, out of curiosity, and it actually felt¡­nice to sit in. Not some rough wooden bench trying to get a splinter jammed up your backside. She settled in, enjoying the feeling of a cushion for a moment, before a smell got her attention.

    Cooking meat. They must have started cooking downstairs. Hells, actual food? Is this what running with the Black Flame meant?

    Salivating, Alice headed back towards the stairs. Something moved outside the window, and she froze.

    The figure running across the roof was obscured. Even her dark vision could not see far enough to make out too many details. Enough though, to make out the custodian helmet with the copper badge on the front.

    The Watch was here.

 Interlude - Skall Part 2

    ¡°Troll!¡± someone screamed from down below, followed by a cacophony as Alice ran towards the stairs, hand going inside her coat for a club. The floor underneath her shuddered as something ripped through the wall below, roaring.

    The window next to the stairs shattered, glass spraying inside as a Watchman leaped inside, revolver in their hands. She veered away, making for a door only for two more windows to shatter, another two Watch bursting inside.

    They moved to block off her escape, clubs of their own at the ready, one of them sneering as he stared down at her.

    ¡°We got a little one-¡±

    She swung forward, swinging the club. People always underestimate the small ones. Maybe that¡¯s why they kept on getting shocked by dwarves being able to throw punches that could knock out humans.

    Alice had gone toe to toe with dwarves who¡¯d wandered into the Quarter, looking for anything not nailed down and that the empire wouldn¡¯t care about. She¡¯d won more often than not.

    Solid oak swung upwards, ramming into the guard¡¯s nose. He screamed, hands going up for it while one of his buddies closed in.

    Alice¡¯s tail wrapped around her ankle, and with a yank, the watchwoman went crashing to the floor. One advantage of it being that large, it was strong.

    Alice grabbed the edges of the watchman¡¯s breastplate, swinging him to cover her from the gun of the third, then bit into his face.

    He screamed as teeth sliced through flesh, cut into bone, and she could taste the blood and the flesh. The bite went deep, and she could feel an optical nerve cut as she bit down.

    He fell to the ground, screaming, hands pressed to his face as she spat his eye down on him.

    The watchman fired, and agony shoved its finger into her shoulder. She rushed forward, yelling, club swinging as he desperately pulled the hammer back. Pain sprouted in her arm again, and she dropped the hammer, but her jaws latched onto his throat.

    Teeth bloody and lips crimson, she ripped the flesh off, tearing a chunk out. She spat it out while he collapsed. Alright, where was the last-

    Something smashed into the back of her head, and she fell down, hitting the wood of the floor with a painful thud.

    Alice tried to get up, only for the Watch officer¡¯s knee to go into her back, forcing her back down to the floorboards. Hands wrapped around her neck, squeezing and she tried to move only for the second knee to come down.

    Alice growled, tried to struggle, reach back with her hands, but she couldn¡¯t reach, and her desperation grew as the strangling continued. The watch officer shifted, and her knee was on the back of Alice¡¯s head.

    Alice tried to scream for the others downstairs, but no words came out. Nothing came out as she tried to fill her lungs that were burning.

    The pressure on her neck only grew.

    Malvia Harrow came up the stairs.

    Malvia¡¯s expression was furious as black flames coated her hands, raw anger on her face beyond the irritation Alice had seen before. She sprinted across the room towards the two of them, Alice¡¯s view fading as the hands around her neck tightened.

    All she could see was the angry snarling face of Malvia lunging at the watchwoman.

    Malvia shoved a pair of burning fingers into the watchwoman¡¯s eyes. The woman¡¯s scream made Alice wince, the grip on her neck loosening. The loosened grip let air back in her lungs, and Alice breathed in, the breath coming out as a series of choking coughs. Each breath hurt, but she could breathe again even as above the Watchwoman screamed, Malvia¡¯s finger up to the second knuckle in her eyes. Alice turned over, moving as fast as she could, clothes tearing on the broken-apart flooring as she got away.

    She made it five feet away and spun to see Malvia over the Watchwoman who had slumped to the ground, smoke pouring out of now-empty eye sockets. The skin all across her face was charred, chunks flaking off to reveal the bone underneath as her face disintegrated. Malvia looked down dispassionately, flicking gore and chunks of eyeball off of her fingers.

    ¡°Are you alright?¡± she asked coldly, idly kicking the flaking flesh of the watchwoman with her hoof. Ashes filled the air, swirling about as they fell off the bare skull.

    It took a second for Alice to recompose herself. ¡°Course I¡¯m fine! You didn¡¯t have to step in. I bloody had her.¡±

    The corner of Malvia¡¯s lips twitched. ¡°Certainly. The true sign of a victory is when your opponent has you on your back with their hands around your throat. I applaud your strategy.¡±

    Alice scowled. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. Who¡¯s the one who killed two of them before you even bothered to show up? Big talk from someone hiding behind devil magic.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not doubting your abilities,¡± Malvia said. ¡°But also, you did lie. You¡¯re bleeding from your shoulder. Hold still.¡±

    ¡°What are doing?¡± Alice said, looking on in bemusement as Malvia took her jacket off.

    The other Infernal rolled her eyes. ¡°You¡¯re bleeding now. I¡¯m not wasting time trying to pry metal off one of the dead Watch members. Sleeve from my tunic should hold until the infirmary. Hold still?¡±

    The other Infernal tried to pull on her jacket and Alice snarled, whipping around.

    Malvia stared blankly back, unintimidated. ¡°It¡¯s either this or you can bleed every step of the way back. Honestly, afraid of baring a little skin?¡±

    Alice shrugged, then shucked her jacket herself, pulling her sleeve up her wounded arm, ignoring the pain as fabric dragged across her skin.

    She could feel the other Infernal¡¯s fingers probing, and she felt pain flash across her shoulder blade.

    ¡°How many times did you get shot?¡±

    ¡°Copper plugged me twice. Terrible shot.¡±

    ¡°Hrrm. Well, the good news is there is an exit wound for both bullets,¡± Malvia said, and Alice could feel a fresh spike of pain that made her wince. ¡°Don¡¯t move. Going to wrap this tight, you¡¯ll get looked at when we get back and hopefully sewn up.¡±

    Alice was about to respond when the Watchwoman¡¯s skull moved.

    The watchwoman¡¯s skull broke, little claws tearing bone apart as it broke free of its corpse-prison. It landed on the ground, tiny claws at the ends of far too many limbs to count balancing it. Alice couldn¡¯t tell if it was bone or just skin, limbs extending every which way from a central body that looked like a spider hiding in an even smaller skull.

    The thing skittered through the open window, launching itself on membrane-like wings into the night.

    Mouth dry, Alice looked at the watchwoman¡¯s corpse, waiting for more to come out. ¡°The fuck was that?¡±

    ¡°Someone else¡¯s problem,¡± Malvia replied. ¡°Come on. It sounds like the fighting has died down, so best to ascertain if we¡¯ll be aiding in clean-up or trying to get back to the Quarter by ourselves before the night is over.¡±

    Alice followed, one eye still on the headless body when she heard something, a light whisper on the wind that made her freeze.

    Bah. Take the corpse, eat it, you spineless coward of an apprentice.

    ¡°Did you hear a voice just then?¡± Alice asked, looking around for the source of the whispers.

    Malvia froze and turned. Her expression was still that same bored look, but something lurked underneath it in her eyes, something that made Alice¡¯s next word stop on her tongue.

    ¡°A voice,¡± the Diabolist said flatly. ¡°Curious. What did it say?¡±

    Alice met the gaze unflinchingly. Had to, really, Diabolist or not, she couldn¡¯t afford to fear any of them. Nothing that could show.

    ¡°Food. It suggested eating the watchwoman, which honestly given how low food is-¡°

    ¡°Cannibalism is never an option,¡± Malvia interrupted. ¡°It¡¯s a sign of a weak mind when the Nover is there and usually overflowing with fish.¡±

    ¡°Fish that are likely to burn your mouth when you bite into them,¡± Alice replied acidly. ¡°Besides, it¡¯s not like it''s cannibalism. We¡¯re different!¡±

    ¡°Not enough to count,¡± Malvia said. ¡°I shall never partake, and that¡¯s been established long since you came here. We¡¯ll talk later about the voice, though. That is important.¡±

    Alice froze, considering the other Infernal. Crap, was she about to become ingredients in some kind of diabolic spell? Shit, and she¡¯d been changing her mind about this stuck-up foreigner after she¡¯s saved her life.

    ¡°I will not use you as fuel for some spell,¡± Malvia said.

    Alice blinked. Had she just read Alice¡¯s-

    ¡°I can¡¯t read minds either,¡± Malvia said irritably. ¡°Everyone assumes when they hear the imp, it means you¡¯re going in some kind of pot. You are not. You have a talent that Versalicci finds useful, so no, I will not shank you. Now, we need to check downstairs.¡±

    There had been little noise from down there.

    ***

    Maria¡¯s body lay at the bottom of the stairs, head crushed like a grape, blood and brains still leaking from where it had split. Next to her lay the culprit, the Troll Watchman, the entire front half of his body charred and still smoldering.

    Alice spared a glance for Malvia, whose face had gone stony once more.

    ¡°Stay close,¡± Malvia warned. ¡°I can deal with others like I dealt with the troll, but my aim isn¡¯t very precise.¡±

    Alice spared another glance at the charred troll. His skin was peeling back, exposing flesh charred and eaten away, blackened bone exposed.

    Yeah, very close.

    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    The next room had three more corpses. The bookish trainee, blood leaking out of half a dozen holes in his chest, two Watch officers with precise holes stabbed right into their eyes.

    Voices now, familiar ones, coming from the cellar. Malvia held her hand up for Alice to stop.

    ¡°Golvar?¡±

    He was alive. Him, Morder, Malachti, and Mitlau. And one other.

    ***

    They¡¯d made it to the little building they¡¯d entered the underground with. Alice¡¯s shoulder had protested every step of the way, as had the one they¡¯d brought with them. Now the red-haired Watchman grunted as the gag was finally taken out of his mouth.

    He screamed, loud and shrill, for help but maybe also his leg being broken in two places.

    ¡°You scum! You¡¯re going to swing! The rest of my unit will have tracked those tunnels you took by now and you¡¯ll-¡±

    ¡°Nah, you ain¡¯t here officially, are you?¡± Golvar sneered, pressing down on the broken leg and earning another scream from the Watchman. ¡°Not when it¡¯s only six of you. Got a little too ambitious, maybe struck a private deal to get yourself some live Black Flame captives to give your bosses and not have some superior steal the credit? Should have brought more than that, copper.¡±

    Golvar put even more weight on the broken leg and the scream rose in volume, echoing inside the house.

    ¡°If you keep doing that, someone is going to notice,¡± Malvia noted drily.

    ¡°Oh shut yer gob,¡± Golvar snapped. ¡°Firstly, boss to you little Miss fire-hands. Second, the day someone¡¯s reaction to screaming in the Infernal Quarter is trying to get the Watch or worse, actually trying to help the poor sucker, I¡¯ll cut off my horns and go sign up with that pack of pond scum myself. Third, I ain¡¯t even leaning too hard on him.¡±

    ¡°True as that might be, boss, the professor has a point,¡± Malachti said with an exaggerated yawn. ¡°Sure, no one is gonna risk their necks to help someone. Now to potentially scavenge from the aftermath of a fight and get maybe some good boots, a knife, a-¡±

    ¡°Alright, alright,¡± Golvar said. ¡°They¡¯d come in, see me, and realize they should be elsewhere but you''re right, this ain¡¯t for nothing but satisfaction. Morder, Mitlau, grab the copper. And don¡¯t be gentle. As long as he ain¡¯t dead, it¡¯ll be fine. Gag him, throw a cloak on him so no one realizes we got a copper. Time to head all the way back.¡±

    ***

    Once again, Alice found herself in the pit. They¡¯d come here, Malvia taking the Watchman down a different corridor while she found herself put here along with the other three, placed right in the middle. Soon after, a noise had keened through the halls, loud and ragged as the Watchman screamed.

    The screaming hadn¡¯t stopped since then.

    Alice didn¡¯t have the courage to ask what they were doing in there while more members of the gang arrived, most of them peering down to where they all waited in the middle of the sand-filled pit. She could hear their curious murmurs as they talked, and with each minute, more came to take a gander.

    The fact there was seating up there, and no one who came failed to take a seat, wasn¡¯t filling her with confidence.

    ¡°You¡¯ll see the boss sooner than you think,¡± Golvar told her. ¡°Soon as the interrogation is done.¡±

    Her eyes flickered over to the corridor where the screaming came from. ¡°Are they¡­torturing him? Seems to be taking a while.¡±

    Golvar snorted. ¡°Torture ain¡¯t an effective tool for dragging answers out of people. Besides, this close, we¡¯d hear him babbling if that was the case. Little copper didn¡¯t seem to have that much iron in his spine. Nah, they¡¯re dragging the answers outta his bones.¡±

    That sounded like magic, and from what she¡¯d seen Malvia do to the Watchwoman, she could guess which kind.

    ¡°I was just saying, if they need a hand,¡± she offered with a sweet smile.

    Golvar chuckled. ¡°You¡¯d be more of a hindrance than a help. Three different diabolists in the same place are already too crowded, then you add in the boss, and you step between any of them you might find yourself ash. Nah, just stay out here.¡±

    There were several entrances to the pits and metal gates. The screaming stopped, and eventually, they brought out the Watchman.

    Half his face was bloody and raw, skin peeled back in spots surrounding a black abyss that had replaced one of his cheeks. It seemed to sink into him to an impossible depth, something glinting at the bottom.

    The rest of him was even more a wreck, skin hanging loosely off in the places where it was still attached. Skall watched, trying to keep the churning in her stomach calm and disgust off her face. How was he even still alive?

    ¡°How do you even manage that?¡± She whispered to Golvar. The elder Black Flame member seemed in a good enough mood to answer questions.

    ¡°Why do you want to know?¡± He whispered back.

    ¡°I know some people I wouldn¡¯t mind getting a similar treatment,¡± she said, and his grin grew wider.

    ¡°Aw, that¡¯s adorable. Got some old enemies you want to get the diabolic equivalent of peeling like a potato? I don¡¯t know, and if you know well enough, you won¡¯t bother anyone about it. Who our diabolists are is need-to-know, although I¡¯m guessing you know at least one.¡±

    Alice nodded. ¡°Bit of a strange duck?¡±

    Golvar scoffed. ¡°Putting it mildly. Don¡¯t let her fancy words or stuck-up attitude throw you off. She¡¯s as much a street rat as you are. If it wasn¡¯t for her being devil-touched, she¡¯d be little more than a pickpocket.¡±

    Alice cocked her head. Perhaps, but that fire when she¡¯d charged the watchwoman had been¡­well, something to think about.

    Giovanni Versalicci walked down the rows of seats.

    Alice had seen him before, the thick-horned green-skinned Infernal. Never understood what the big deal was and never listened to him.

    It felt different when nearly four hundred people went silent when he entered.

    He walked over to a podium set in the walls of the fighting pit, the crowd of Infernals who¡¯d gathered parting in front of him.

    ¡°Ms. Dason, could you please fetch me our records of the city laws?¡± Versalicci asked, and a short-horned Infernal rushed away. Seconds ticked by, seconds where the only sound was the Watch officer moaning in pain down there in the pit with them.

    Half a minute later, she returned, another minute as Versalicci leafed through the book. Alice thought about something, but her mouth was suddenly dry. As if breaking the silence would be death, to add any sound but the rustling of pages and whimpering already there.

    ¡°It is not illegal under the laws of the city to move through the underground unless it is through specific tunnels that are important to Imperial Military operation,¡± Versalicci said, leafing through the thick book, the rest of the room silent enough you could hear the rustle of pages when he stopped talking. ¡°Nor is it illegal to enter a house that is unoccupied as long as you do not need to break anything to enter, steal anything inside, or do so with provable malicious intent towards its owners. In short, Corporal Kershaw, your little effort tonight was for a grand total of the crime of my people being Infernals outside of the Quarter.¡±

    The pageantry she could understand, trying to show off for his followers, a show with a victim everyone here would hate to show his power on, but the laws? Why?

    ¡°Of course, that law is in place for a good reason. Trainee, can you tell me the reason?¡±

    Alice stiffened, not expecting to be called on to talk, let alone answer a question in front of four hundred others.

    ¡°Her Most Profane Majesty isn¡¯t it?¡± she said. ¡°To stop that from happening again?¡±

    Hissed displeasure from four hundred throats, and she scowled, ready to snarl defiance, when Versalicci held up his hand, cutting it off.

    ¡°Like any of you thought different when you came here? With a few exceptions. No, not you Malachti, do not look so smug. No trainee, if you are to progress in this organization, I would suggest not listening to priests or city officials for those reasons. No, we are stuck here because they need someone to hate. Someone to fear. Someone to blame for all their ill luck and misfortune. Someone who they can shoot and club and not feel any guilt for. Isn¡¯t that right, Corporal Kershaw?¡±

    The watchman continued to groan, which Versalicci took as a response.

    ¡°Of course, you didn¡¯t act on your own, Corporal. You had help, did you not? From someone who prized something beyond his own race, didn¡¯t you?¡±

    The only sound was the whimpering now. No one so much as moved, waiting.

    ¡°It¡¯s your mess, Morder,¡± Versalicci said as the pitiful thing that Watchman had become moaned. ¡°At least have the common courtesy to clean this part up yourself.¡±

    Every head turned to the suddenly named traitor, whose face cycled through a variety of expressions. Terror, fear, anger, and sorrow, all appeared, then disappeared again before it settled on resignment.

    Morder moved towards the watchman, pulling a long straight knife from his belt. He knelt down, muttered a few words Alice couldn¡¯t hear, then slit his throat.

    ¡°Mitlau, kill him.¡±

    Morder whipped around, but in those precious moments, the giant at Alice¡¯s side sprang into action, moving across the sand without a sound beyond the thud of a hoof into the sand.

    Morder snarled as he spun, then lunged forward, knife in hand.

    Mitlau waited till it was inches from his throat before moving. It should be impossible, someone that large moving that fast as he ducked, the blade going over his head.

    Morder spat a curse out, and tried to pull back his blow. Too late. Mitlau¡¯s hand hammered into his stomach, driving the air from his lungs. Morder¡¯s knife fell as Mitlau¡¯s other hand rammed underneath his chin, driving him back.

    Morder flailed and fell onto his back while Mitlau grabbed the knife. Morder scrambled back to his feet just in time to avoid the first blow. Then the second, the third, the fourth, but each blow drove him further back, and there was only so far he could go. His back hit the wall, and Alice forced herself to not react as Mitlau stabbed at him.

    Morder¡¯s hand moved to grab Mitlau¡¯s wrist only for the knife to stab right through his palm. Morder screamed but still twisted out of the way of Mitlau¡¯s fist.

    Boards shuddered as that sledgehammer hit them, and Morder got his hand off the knife in time to move further away. Those meaty fists might be more deadly than the knife, Alice thought. A blow to the head from them might end the fight faster than the blade.

    ¡°Fucking shoot me!¡± Morder screamed up at Versalicci, who didn¡¯t so much as twitch. ¡°Just shoot me, you sadistic little shi-¡±

    He was interrupted by a wide swing with the knife, and lunged forward, jaw opening to bite Mitlau¡¯s wrist, slice into flesh and -

    Mitlau¡¯s fist rammed into Morder¡¯s face, and teeth flew as Morder rocked back. Alice could see at least one knife-like canine land on the ground. Morder tried to backpedal, tears in his eyes, blood streaming from his mouth, Mitlau pressing closer-

    The knife swung down, cutting deep into Morder¡¯s thigh, slicing right where it met the hip. It sank deep, and Alice knew this fight, already decided, was finally confirmed.

    Morder collapsed to the ground, grasping at his thigh as it gushed blood.

    ¡°End it! End it, you fucking paw-¡±

    Mitlau¡¯s fist slammed into Morder¡¯s face again, then again, then twice more before he went back to the knife. Morder¡¯s head hit the sand, not a noise coming from him. His jaw hung at a strange angle, and Mitlau furthered it with another cut.

    Each cut came slower than the last, flesh continued to be sliced as Morder bled out onto the sand, a splatter of red on the pure white. He whimpered, broken jaw trying to form a plea, and instead, all that came out was a high-pitched whistle that grew higher as Mitlau sliced into his calf.

    Everyone remained silent as Mitlau continued his butchery, slowly cutting his way through skin, muscle, and tendons. No one uttered a word, not as Versalicci stared down from above. Even as the whimpering stopped and the struggling faded, the white sand turned more red than white now.

    Alice stood, staring at what must surely be a corpse by now. The blood had reached her cheap boots by now, staining the bottoms, but she would not be the first to move or tear her gaze away. There was that sense, that it would be a weakness to be the first to look away or move.

    ¡°Enough, Mitlau.¡±

    Mitlau paused mid-cut, knife half done slicing through the sole of Morder¡¯s foot.

    ¡°I think Morder has learned his lesson,¡± Versalicci said, gesturing down to Morder¡¯s corpse. ¡°Now, he will provide us with some last use in repayment for his betrayal of the people, but no one needs to see that. The Watch sees us as nothing but carrion, bottom-feeders, below everyone else in this empire, traitorous little curs. Morder proved them right today, by selling his people out for whatever they offered him. Perhaps gold. Perhaps a life as some example of one of the few good Infernals, the ones who know their place under the heels of everyone else. Of course, they would still think of him as carrion, so that is what he¡¯ll be treated as. Food, although for things much deadlier than blackbirds. Ms. Skall?¡±

    She jerked as her name was mentioned and face now turned to her, but she glanced up to stare Versalicci in the face, glowering and defiant.

    She had nothing to fear. Best to present a good face that made sure she wouldn¡¯t have anything to fear.

    ¡°My friends call me Alice,¡± she said, forcing words past that reluctant knot forming in her throat. ¡°That slippery little bugger who told my father I needed to live in the Quarter called me Ms. Skall. You¡¯re neither.¡±

    Shit. As soon as Alice finished, she worried she¡¯d pushed that too far, but Versalicci chuckled good-humoredly.

    ¡°No need for hostility, miss,¡± he said. ¡°I just wanted to congratulate you. Only survivor and according to what I was told, two Watch deaths on your hand. Teeth bloody. Good show. We have things to discuss, but first, come out of the pit. You do not want to be in there when our allies eat.¡±

    A rope ladder was descending, Golvar, Mitlau, and Malachti already heading towards it, the last pausing only to spit on Morder¡¯s corpse. To her shock, it twitched in response.

    Ignoring that as best she could, she moved towards the ladder, heart pounding. She could hear gears moving, and part of the pit all moving as she got her boots on the rungs, scrambling up the ladder.

    Behind her, a gate into the pit opened, and something came down that corridor.

    It hissed, floating above the sand, three heads dotting its back, one of them bristling with teeth that bit into the first corpse, the other two blathering in a language that Alice couldn¡¯t understand and made her ears hurt.

    ¡°Great Basand, how good it is to grace us with your presence this evening, us your lowly children,¡± Versalicci said, and her mind tuned out the rest.

    It was a devil. They had a devil they¡¯d summoned into the material plane?

    Insane. They were all insane. She watched as it devoured Morder¡¯s still twitching body as Versalicci spoke about injustices committed by the Watch and those who aided them. But they would mean food, pay, and maybe a chance out of the quarter. Lunatics and monsters.

    Hells knew, the Quarter was surrounded by plenty of those, just waiting to come in and end as many as possible. Maybe they needed some of their own, she just needed to not become their prey.

    Alice would just have to be more insane than the rest of them. That was fine. She knew how to do that.

    You can''t get bitten if you''re the one who bites first.

 Chapter 1 - Profane I

    Four weeks after I let Lady Karsin walk out a probable door, I was considering what would have happened if I¡¯d followed her.

    Not that I wanted to die, but as my few current customers were picking their way around my shop, looking at ingredients or the potions on display in locked cabinets, I needed something to occupy my mind.

    Life as a shopkeeper wasn¡¯t all bad. A steady flow of income. Plenty of interaction with people! Those who showed up.

    And weren¡¯t here to buy illegal drugs.

    See, when your name was all over the newspapers, it attracted the wrong kind of customers. A few different wrong kinds, very few of whom were interested in legitimate business.

    The ones hoping to catch a glimpse of the Empire¡¯s greatest detective had mostly vanished in the first week when it was clear he wouldn¡¯t be frequenting my shop. Besides, most of them had been of the non-Infernal variety, and even close to the boundaries of the Quarter the discomfort some of them had felt on venturing even a little ways in had been clear.

    The ones thinking I was still Black Flame, that they could use me as a way of becoming friendlier with Versalicci? Those had left soon after, mostly when I made it very clear that I was serious about blowing the kneecaps off of anyone even hinting at that.

    Those trying to see if I was in the trade of illegal substances? Well, I was, but not for people trying to ask over the counter. I¡¯d never had a high opinion of those trying to buy said substances, but some of this was moronic. Do not hint, no matter how subtle you believed you were being.

    I made money at least, enough to maintain my little store. Mostly through orders instead of customers, who made a small slice of my business. I still spent time in the underground, helping the Delvers in return for a chance to harvest ingredients.

    Of course, I was Malvia Harrow, not Katheryn Falara anymore. Only the most desperate or the more sketchy Delving parties trusted me these days. The hostility I¡¯d gotten as Falara was magnified as an ex-member of the Black Flame.

    Back here in the Quarter, it got more leeway, although I knew many people avoided my shop like the plague because of that connection.

    Tend to the shop. Go delve. Stay the hells away from Hells¡¯ Own both because of Tolman and because I¡¯d been banned by Edwards. Resist the urge to drink. Have tea instead. Go home and practice Diabolism. Head to bed. Wake up and prepare ingredients and potions. Get orders ready. Occasionally spar verbally with Varrow. Once every two days to keep myself in shape.

    Varrow would be around at some point. When I¡¯d negotiated a continuing line of medicine for him, I had never intended he could only get it from me, but Intelligence insisted on it. I understood why Varrow was a resource worth cultivating if it wasn¡¯t for some personal animosity that I found unfair on his part. Of course, calming that animosity when he knew what was going on and was firmly convinced I had arranged it despite my protests to the contrary? Impossible.

    I still looked forward to it. He was a regular. I didn¡¯t have many of those, at least ones I¡¯d known before opening this store. Just the one.

    I could feel the chill air coming in from the windows, cooling down the stifling warmth from the potion-brewing I¡¯d down early in the morning. I¡¯d close them eventually for my customer¡¯s comfort and to make sure I didn¡¯t need too much wood for my log-fired stove.

    For right now, the chill was just a pleasant sensation on my exposed skin and a little else on everything that was covered. Which was close to everything, including my hands. I¡¯d covered both my arms, but only one needed it.

    The marks on my right arm, the spirals of darker red from when I¡¯d poured Diabolism out in my efforts to end Hawkins extending from black-colored fingers, all of it carving through my natural blue.

    The consequence of pouring far too much rot with far too little control, and something I was working on mastering with the Imp during the lessons I¡¯d agree to. The results so far had been mixed. I was making progress at least, and without unleashing some horrible abomination on the city thanks to enough restrictive wards to keep any corruptive influence trapped down there.

    It was worth the feelings of pain every time I had to share a room with that assortment of holy symbols.

    ¡°Excuse me, Miss Harrow?¡±

    A customer¡¯s voice roused me from my musings. Jenny Dalson, a young woman who had been showing up more often as of late. Often for potions and tinctures she didn¡¯t need, and I was pretty sure I knew why she kept coming.

    Somewhat sketchy, the way she¡¯d described her line of work during our brief chats. Sounded like the kind of person whose delivery business was occasionally supplemented by packages falling off the back of the wagon.

    Honestly, I couldn¡¯t judge. She certainly had the arms to steal said packages, as I¡¯d noticed when we first met. And kept noticing since then.

    Honestly, it was nice to notice. It kept my mind off of might-have-been.

    ¡°Miss Dalson,¡± I said with a slight smile. ¡°What are we looking at today?¡±

    She was about to reply when the door opened, the cheap bell I¡¯d installed ringing as my next customers entered the store.

    I turned to greet them, then froze. Next to me, Jenny¡¯s face paled, and my other customers backed away, trying to put as much distance between themselves and what was to come.

    Giovanni Versalicci grinned, shaking the snow off of his coat as the rest of his entourage entered behind him.

    ¡°Ms. Harrow,¡± he said, while I considered the revolver under my counter. ¡°Salutations! Apologies that it¡¯s been so long since we last met, but upon hearing you had opened a shop, I just had to visit!¡±

    He walked further into my shop, staying in the middle while his entourage stuck close to him, two new, three distressingly familiar. My customers stuck to the edges, keeping as much distance as possible before making for the door, some pausing to throw a respectful bow or curtsy to Versalicci before escaping my shop.

    They were hedging their bets just in case. I couldn¡¯t blame them. If it wasn¡¯t for me having nastier protectors, I¡¯d be doing the same.

    I waited till the door shut for a last time, the bell ringing with finality as my hand curled around the gun under my counter.

    ¡°No words for me, Malvia?¡± Versalicci asked as he neared, taking his gloves off as he reached the halfway point between me and the door, pausing. His entourage fanned out, forming a loose line to either side.

    He didn¡¯t want to pressure me too much. Worried about a fight? There was no way he had not brought a diabolist to this. Then again, he also shouldn¡¯t be on the damn surface.

    ¡°Mr. Versalicci,¡± I replied carefully. ¡°What a surprise to see you on the surface. I would think you¡¯d be a little more careful about being seen in public.¡±

    The Watch still didn¡¯t venture into the Quarter often, still preferring to stick to the outskirts, but there were some things that would make them venture into the heart of the quarter. A tip that might have led to the capture of one of his top lieutenants, Golvar, had led to a whole host descending on the Quarter, only to find Golvar dead from a fight I¡¯d been the only survivor of. For a chance to catch Versalicci himself?

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    That might get the army involved, or worse.

    ¡°I appreciate your concern,¡± he said with a smile. ¡°I have my own ways of handling any issues regarding that, so I am perfectly safe. But it is nice hearing you care so much.¡±

    ¡°Of course I care,¡± I said bluntly. ¡°I don¡¯t need my store getting smashed apart. Well, can I help you at all? A particular tincture or potion you are interested in? Something to help you in bed, perhaps, or are we looking for something less personal in use?¡±

    Versalicci chuckled. ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t think anything personal. Although I have heard you¡¯ve acquired some truly delightful tea that I¡¯d be happy to take off your hands.¡±

    Over. My. Dead. Body.

    ¡°But no, I¡¯m looking for something of a more gaseous nature, if it is available.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not,¡± I replied. ¡°And even if it was, I¡¯ll note the first time was a suggestion. One I qualified carefully when I made it and no one paid attention to, anyway.¡±

    ¡°Oh, come on,¡± one of this entourage said, grinning under an obnoxiously red top hat. ¡°You were as eager as the rest of us. You just had to pretend to have opinions afterward once you got to see all the gory details.¡±

    ¡°Malachti,¡± I spat at one of my old comrades. Long thought dead by me, erroneously. ¡°One of these days, your mouth will get you into something you can¡¯t talk your way out of.¡±

    ¡°Trite,¡± the little shit said, grin only widening. ¡°It¡¯s done me well enough for the last few years, despite your proclamations otherwise. Besides, I got people to get me out of those situations, unlike you.¡±

    ¡°Fun,¡± I said. ¡°If I joined back up, would you let me kill him? Because that would be very tempting, Gio.¡±

    Malachti laughed harshly, only for the rough barking guffaws to end when he noticed Versalicci staring at him, seemingly deep in thought.

    ¡°Boss, you are not considering the traitor over me,¡± he protested.

    ¡°No, but it¡¯s amusing to make you squirm. Still, it¡¯s not a genuine offer, is it Malvia?¡±

    ¡°It is not,¡± I confirmed. ¡°Also hello Melissa.¡±

    The red-skinned Infernal didn¡¯t seem to know whether or not to wave, settling for a cautious nod. Curious. Lot meeker than when we¡¯d interacted the first few times. I doubted her screw-up involving torturing me had left that big an impact.

    ¡°Mitlau,¡± I said warily, to a polite nod from the giant. Hell¡¯s sake, had he gotten bigger since Understreet? He might be close to seven feet tall now, horns nearly scraping the ceiling of my shop. ¡°Is anyone from the old days actually dead?¡±

    ¡°Some folks,¡± he replied, voice rumbling like a steam engine. One about to go over your head and pop it like a grape. ¡°Not us though.¡±

    ¡°Not us,¡± I agreed bitterly. ¡°Honestly, you should have brought Syn, or Kanes as well. Round it out with people I know. So, I¡¯m going to assume this is not a business call. Give me a second, and I¡¯ll break out my teapot if you want this to be a social call.¡±

    ¡°Unnecessary,¡± Versalicci said. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t want to take up too much of your time. I¡¯m just here to talk over a mutually beneficial arrangement-¡±

    ¡°No,¡± I said bluntly. ¡°Now get out of my store.¡±

    He sighed dramatically. ¡°Malvia, at least hear me out. If anything, I just want to assure the safety of our community from whispers of something truly dangerous.¡±

    ¡°Whispers of what?¡±

    ¡°Hrrm,¡± Versalicci said. ¡°Well, for the first thing, I don¡¯t know what it is. They come to me from Holmsteader¡¯s territory.¡±

    ¡°I am not clearing out a rival gang¡¯s territory for you,¡± I stated bluntly. ¡°Also, Miss, unless you plan on buying hands off of the ingredients please?¡±

    Melissa backed away from the rack, letting go of the herbs she¡¯d been examining. She hadn¡¯t been the only one, but her interest seemed mostly curious, unlike someone else¡¯s.

    Mitlau¡¯s lock-picking of one of my cabinets stopped, him taking advantage of everyone turning to look at Melissa. There wasn¡¯t anything good in there. He was just being annoying.

    ¡°My apologies,¡± Versalicci said. ¡°But in terms of what is there, we really need to-¡±

    ¡°Hello, Malvia!¡±

    The bell on my front door rang once more, and seeing who stepped inside, I let two words escape my lips, carrying every ounce of frustration I felt. ¡°Oh Hells.¡±

    A pink-colored Infernal in a winter coat and dress waved enthusiastically to me as she walked across the floor, seemingly ignorant to the toughs and gang members on either side of her. Some of them moved to intercept, but Versalicci lazily waved them off.

    She was also wearing a top hat, to my irritation. Pink and with fur and honestly the most obnoxious thing I had ever seen, including the ship a dressmaker had once tried to make me wear as a hat.

    Malachti stared at it with the most intense look of jealousy I¡¯d ever seen in my life. Damnations, he was going to steal it if the both of them were in the shop for long together.

    ¡°Hello!¡± The Infernal greeted Versalicci brightly. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t realize there was a line. Could you maybe speed your order up a little?¡±

    You could have heard a pin drop. The two new toughs looked unnerved. Melissa was confused. Mitlau looked as placid as he always did when either eating food or ripping someone¡¯s arm from their socket the slow way. Malachti¡¯s expression turned just a little glacial, a bit too forced but he kept that easy, affable grin on his face.

    Versalicci didn¡¯t so much as twitch.

    ¡°Ah, but of course,¡± he said, inclining his head. ¡°I sometimes get so lost talking with people I lose track of time. My apologies, Miss-?¡±

    ¡°Valthenmog,¡± she told him, curtsying, while I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

    He didn¡¯t show the slightest hint of surprise. ¡°Well, Miss Valthemnog, I will try to make this quick. Three doses of Angel¡¯s Sorrow, my good alchemist, is what I wish to order.¡±

    ¡°Illegal,¡± I replied flatly. ¡°So I don¡¯t carry it. Even if I did, I didn¡¯t make it. Besides, even jokingly, the last thing you want is spreading the idea you actually use it. There are still a dozen stories circulating about what happened, and the truth isn¡¯t in the three most popular.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Versalicci agreed. ¡°We are Infernals. It only seems right that we shoulder most of the blame for everything to them, doesn¡¯t it?¡±

    Reality had a very disagreeable way of making me agree with my brother.

    ¡°Well, another time perhaps,¡± Versalicci said, moving back from my counter. ¡°I won¡¯t keep you from your current customer.¡±

    I had a little give. ¡°Perhaps. Send it ahead of time and I might be more agreeable.¡±

    He inclined his head slightly, then walked out, his entourage following in his wake till all of them were out of my store.

    ¡°Could you not needle him?¡± I asked the grinning woman, the tired feeling in my bones only growing. ¡°I realize he¡¯s not much danger to you, but if you poke him too hard, one of his idiot followers will take a swing on his behalf. And the last thing we need is you exposed, especially if I¡¯ll get the blame for it.¡±

    ¡°Ah, but exposed is my favorite kind of being, Malvia,¡± Tagashin teased, the illusory disguise fading, revealing the Kitsun¨¦ underneath. And she had taken that exposed comment to heart as well. ¡°And besides, weren¡¯t you one of those idiot followers?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, and then I learned not to be an idiot, through a long and arduous journey,¡± I said, turning to close up shop. Tagashin floated over the counter, reclining as if on a couch, staying within my vision. ¡°One of which I guess I¡¯ll need to take soon if you¡¯re here. What does Mr. Voltar want me for?¡±

    The Kitsun¨¦ pouted. ¡°You know, I expected something of a larger reaction?¡±

    I looked over the Kitsune before blinking lazily. ¡°It¡¯s very nice. If I didn¡¯t know the horrendous personality attached to it, you would get a bigger reaction. Now put a disguise on before we leave. I¡¯m not violating the obscenity laws, so cover your ankles. Please.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t even know where we¡¯re going,¡± the Kitsune said, reforming her Infernal disguise before hopping off of thin air onto my countertop.

    ¡°Well, either you tell me, or Voltar wonders why we¡¯re late,¡± I said, grabbing my revolver from behind the counter and then getting my coat off its hook. ¡°And I can tell him it¡¯s because you danced naked on my counter right after talking to my brother. Wouldn¡¯t even be stretching the truth that far.¡±

    ¡°Well, truth be told, this is a sensitive matter,¡± Tagashin admitted as I put my coat on. ¡°There¡¯s been a murder, one that led to many, many more murders. Collateral damage and the victim is a priest of Tarver.¡±

    My fingers froze, trying to button my coat and failing as my mind raced towards a conclusion that sent mixed feelings rushing through me, followed by shame over one side of that. He¡¯d proven himself a judgmental shite, but that was no reason to revel in him being dead.

    ¡°Before you ask, it is not Gregory Montague,¡± Tagashin continued.

    ¡°Good,¡± I replied gruffly. ¡°So, a priest of Tarver is dead?¡±

    ¡°Yes, in his own church as well,¡± Tagashin commented. ¡°We¡¯ll be heading directly there.¡±

    I froze, stuck on the last button. Tarver was one of the least Infernal adverse deities, but there were still issues with setting foot on consecrated ground. At least, unlike Halspus, you could set foot there and not die immediately.

    ¡°That¡¯s an issue,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m not familiar with the process, but I doubt whatever could be done to let me walk in one of his temples can be done by the time we get there.¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t need to be done,¡± Tagashin said as I finished the button, walking alongside me as we headed to the door. She gestured with her hand and all my windows shut, bolting and locking themselves. I nodded my thanks as she continued her statement.

    ¡°The temple itself is no longer consecrated,¡± Tagashin said. ¡°And I brought a cloak along with me. Hooded. It should help hide features the public currently there might take issue with.¡±

    Oh. It took little to put together what that meant. I sighed and looked at my door. Well, I¡¯d wanted excitement. And maybe this meant Versalicci¡¯s claim about an issue in the Quarter wasn¡¯t too far off.

    Time to go see who¡¯d had the bright idea to use Diabolism to murder a priest in his own church.

 Chapter 2 - Profane II

    The carriage ride was longer than I expected. I almost didn¡¯t notice because of the horrendous monstrosity Tagashin insisted on wearing.

    ¡°I am not getting spotted alongside you with that on your head,¡± I said, pointing at the pink top hat perched atop her. ¡°Or any of the rest of it, to be completely honest. Some poor carriage driver is going to glance in here as they pass by and crash after seeing what you¡¯re wearing.¡±

    She¡¯d changed into her Rebecca Barnes disguise by now, wearing that same blazingly pink top hat, a trim of white fur running on top of the hat¡¯s brim. Worse, she¡¯d conjured up an evening suit in the same colors.

    ¡°Worried about the disruption I¡¯ll cause to society, venturing out like this?¡± she asked me, batting her eyelashes.

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t care less about society,¡± I replied. ¡°Wearing explicitly male clothing when you aren¡¯t of what¡¯s considered lower classes? Good, do it. Wearing bright pink? Not my favorite, but I have some pieces with it. Doing both, and enough of it that you¡¯re practically a beacon drawing every eye to you? While I¡¯m going to be next to you? Definitely not.¡±

    ¡°Awww,¡± she pouted. ¡°You¡¯re no fun Malvia.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re not doing fun,¡± I pointed out. ¡°We¡¯re going to where a diabolist murdered a priest. As the only one upon us stuck with horns, hooves, and tail, I would prefer not having attention drawn to me.¡±

    Hells knew crowds had tried tearing me apart for much lesser imagined crimes.

    ¡°Fair, fair,¡± Tagashin said with a sigh, her clothes turning a muted brown and black, but the top hat stayed the same color.

    I stared at it pointedly.

    ¡°Uggh. Fine.¡±

    While Tagashin glamoured the rest of her outfit, I looked outside the carriage and frowned. This was Belton, further out from the city¡¯s beating heart, and we were making very good time, precisely because it was further out from the city¡¯s heart. Not quite one of the growing parts of the city anymore, still too new to gain any flavor like the older districts.

    ¡°Belton?¡± I said, pulling my head back in as further up the street someone noticed my horns and screamed shrilly. ¡°The murder happened in Belton?¡±

    More screams. Not shocking, my kind didn¡¯t normally go to Belton. Or were permitted in Belton, even after the lessening on Infernal movement restrictions.

    The cloak made even more sense. These people probably wouldn¡¯t know the difference between an Infernal and an actual devil to begin with. Hells, Infernals looked more like what people expected devils to be than many actual devils themselves.

    I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach. This was feeling too close to what I¡¯d experienced before. People deliberately doing crimes to provoke the masses against Infernals. And a church, although a different one than before. Tarver didn¡¯t teach his disciples to hate Infernals.

    They decided on that themselves.

    ***

    Most of Belton was rows of homes, forming what some had called the suburbs, although a different kind than what it had meant in the past. Now the poor were in the center of the city, and the more wealthy were moving to the outside, although those living there still worked in the city itself.

    It wasn¡¯t all homes though. They had their churches, local businesses, watch stations, government buildings, and even their own fire insurance company and station.

    This had been one once, an intersection that had once contained a church of Tarver, some shops, and a few more fancy homes.

    Had. You could trace the path of carnage with your eyes.

    It started at the church entrance.

    Two heavy wooden doors had once blocked that off. One of them had been snapped in half, part of it hanging loosely from the frame. The other was halfway down the streets, embedded in the second story of a butcher¡¯s shop.

    The path of destruction traveled down the streets, lamp-posts torn from the ground, the cobbles of the road torn up, a smashed apart wagon, the entire front half of a shop caved in. And the bodies.

    White sheets covered the bodies, hiding them from view. Most of them were already stained red in part, crimson soaking through the fabric. They¡¯d been bleeding for a while, longer than a body should.

    The white sheets hid the worse, but they couldn¡¯t hide it all. A multicolored pool of blood filled the cracks and low points between stones, the usual red twisted black and blue by the monster that had rampaged through.

    A statue of the god Tarver lay at the end of the street, shattered into chunks. Branch-like vines of red and black protruded from the chunks, most of them still wriggling uselessly. Its head was mostly intact, the god¡¯s usual carefree expression warped into a scowling demon¡¯s face, fanged jaws stained with blood, horns pushing out of its forehead made of red stone in contrast to the statue¡¯s marble. Black liquid was streaming from around the base of the horns, pouring onto the cobbles below.

    A chunk of someone¡¯s head lay in the jaws, and they continued to slowly mash on it, staring in hatred at those of us it couldn¡¯t attack.

    Watch officers had it cordoned off, and many mages were weaving walls of arcane energy that closed off the Infernally tainted statue from the rest of the world. Chunks of the statues spread around the street were similarly separated.

    And beyond that was the crowd, a grim-faced, whispering assortment of residents staring fearfully at their once-blessed church. I shrank back in my seat as the carriage worked its way through them.

    To my morning dread, I realized the shattered statue blocked the path further down the street. We¡¯d have to get out only a short distance past the loose picket line of Watch.

    A dozen uniformed officers, enough to keep an angry crowd from crossing the line when they didn¡¯t have an easy target for their ire. They were about to. The carriage came to a halt. I opened the door, and stepped down.

    The hooded cloak could only do so much. The murmurs of the crowd picked up as I stepped off the carriage.

    ¡°Devil-¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t be. They wouldn¡¯t let one in the city.¡±

    ¡°Infernal, it must be-¡±

    ¡°Just as bad as devils, and twice as sly, did you hear about how they used shape-changers to-¡±

    I hurried up the street, but I could hear the sound of feet on the cobble. Watch officers yelled warnings, but I knew what was going on as I passed the shattered statue remnants. Members of the Watch looked at me with resentment, and I couldn¡¯t blame them. If it wasn¡¯t for me, there wouldn¡¯t be a chance of the crowd breaking into a crime scene that had a good chance of killing them.

    I turned around, seeing that the crowd had advanced to the loose picket of the Watch, and was threatening to spill past towards me. My tainted hand scrambled inside my pocket, feeling for a familiar symbol. My focus. Would a display of diabolism only make them angrier or scare them away?

    I might have to gamble those dice, as a heavyset man in a suit, eyes red from crying, broke through, yelling incoherently about his wife.

    A pink Infernal in obnoxious suit and top hat of the same color came out of nowhere, tripping him and lifting his money purse.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± she said to the fallen man. ¡°But in between your pathetic moaning and your foul taste in clothes, I¡¯ve decided you no longer need your wallet.¡±

    And then she was in among the crowd, snatching and weaving before they knew what hit them.

    People couldn¡¯t look away, whether it was the thievery, the insults, or just the way she was dressed. An outfit that would cause offense and spectacle even more among the good people of Belton than elsewhere in the city. And also a very direct new avenue for their ire that didn¡¯t involve fighting the City Watch.

    Some of them pursued, trying to catch her only for her to always be just out of reach. She vanished down a side street, half the crowd cursing and chasing after her to reclaim their wallets.

    The rest weren¡¯t enough to push the Watch, and were also caught between deciding what Infernal to chase.

    That stupid Kitsune, I thought with a small smile. Okay, good work Tagashin, and thank you.

    I wondered briefly if she was going to return the wallets as I walked further down the street. While I walked, I looked at the Church.

    It had been made of white marble. Had, because now lines of red and black crawled all over it like veins, tainted by a sickness spreading from them. Part of the wall had fallen off, revealing chunks inside colored the same.

    Ugly. It probably wouldn¡¯t look any better in the Astral, but I focused, blinking my eyes while focusing on the effect.

    Simplest spell to learn. Best one, in my opinion, although it was providing a rather nasty sight.

    Churches were always crowded in little wisps and minor spirits associated with that deity, usually keeping a watch on me to make sure I did nothing untoward. Chuchs themselves usually were painful to look at, none more so than those of Halspus which could be blind to an unprepared eye.

    All of that was gone with this church. Not a hint of a spirit or wisp, not a little of shine to its structure. Instead, red and black thorns covered it, crawling over the walls and through the windows. Parts of the walls bulged, something inside pressing against the stone, while the wounds where the thorns emerged bled. Part of the astral stone broke, revealing a bulging eye trying to push its way out.

    This was going to need purification, if only so nothing else emerged later to put the statue that had rampaged earlier to shame.

    Tagashin, still disguised as Barnes but in a much less outrageous outfit, stepped next to me, keeping pace as I continued down the street.

    ¡°It was a clever bit of work,¡± I muttered under my breath.

    ¡°Hrrm?¡± she cocked her head. ¡°What was that I heard on the errant breeze? Mayhap a little sign of appreciation for the humble helper?¡±

    My lips quirked a little. Strange, this sudden kindness. I¡¯d not expected it after we first met. Perhaps Intelligence had loosened the leash around her neck?

    ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re working with the Watch on this one?¡± I asked Tagashin.

    I¡¯d only consulted on two cases since the Shape-changer affair, both rather mundane in comparison ones where Voltar needed me to run tests to confirm his already formed suspicions. It was far more enjoyable than my first experience, if only because I wasn¡¯t the direct subject of being puppetered around by the mastermind. Also Voltar made for a much better Voltar than Tagashin ever had, being a lot less of a shit-stirrer than the Kitsun¨¦ was. Both had been at the behest of private clients, my services entirely as a contractor.

    ¡°Never just the Watch,¡± Tagashin said. ¡°Intelligence pulls the strings here, and while their involvement will never be mentioned-¡°

    ¡°-all will assume it nonetheless,¡± I finished quietly for her.

    Seemed natural that they¡¯d take an interest. Diabolism attack in the middle of the capital? No matter how small, that would attract Intelligence¡¯s eye. The empire seldom forgot an old foe, and a possible resurgence of them even as its empress directed them to make plenty of new ones.

    The blood, I could tell with a brief peering into the arcane, was inert. Probably some diabolic tainting, but it wasn¡¯t traveling through the blood into the stone. Still, I did my best to avoid it. Further Diabolism was more likely to just twist me instead of directly harm me like it would others, but after the little changes I¡¯d caught just burning a small hole in the Imperial Archives? I did not want to let anymore in.

    People already wanted me dead on sight as is. Hells help me if I grew wings.

    Speaking of the Hells helping me, a tall woman whose skin appeared carved out of solid stone waited by the entrance to the church, the badge of a Watch captain, who glowered at the both of us as we approached.

    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    ¡°Miss Harrow,¡± she said gruffly, scowl deepening. ¡°Come to view your handiwork?¡±

    Captain Maria Walston, an earth elemental blood. She did not like me. And unlike Malstein, who I could understand, her dislike stemmed entirely from me not being shoved inside a cell for past crimes.

    Honestly, it¡¯s very unreasonable.

    ¡°I was in bed,¡± I said. ¡°As I¡¯m sure Intelligence can tell you, which is honestly more personally disturbing than any amount of hostility you can give me Captain.¡±

    I wasn¡¯t even lying. I¡¯d started changing under the covers.

    ¡°Grisly sight inside?¡±

    Her grizzled expression faltered a little. ¡°You get used to things in this city. Can¡¯t even say this is the worse. But I don¡¯t blame those who¡¯ve left heaving their breakfast onto the stones.¡±

    Joy. A messily murdered priest, probably beloved by his community, done in with devil magic.

    It probably hadn¡¯t even been an Infernal who¡¯d done it. It¡¯s not like you needed to be one to use Diabolism.

    ¡°No special greeting for me, Captain? You wound my poor little heart.¡±

    ¡°Shut up, Barnes.¡±

    ¡°Shut up, Barnes.¡±

    Well, I guess she liked me enough to add ¡®miss¡¯ in front of my name. Didn¡¯t really feel like an honor when she spat it out with the same forceful dislike as my name.

    I walked through the broken doors, into a church incinerated and broken.

    Most of the furniture was gone, probably part of the ash coating the floor. Cracks in the stonework separated the floor into chunks, the largest over by the Altar, where Voltar and Dawes stood.

    A profane mockery hung from the altar. Clad in ornamental robes with the torn symbol of a lute emblazoned on the front, a twisted hybrid of human and goat had been melted into the altar¡¯s front.

    The pained face had horns poking from the skull, bone poking through, bits of skin carried with it, and blood leaking around the rims of both. Above, hair had fallen out in clumps, leaving a patchwork of wispy brown hair and red, irritated skin, ridges forming. The eyes had been closed.

    Lower, the face was on its way to a goat¡¯s, but only on one side, skin stretched tight over an unfamiliar shape, bone jutting so hard it threatened to break loose. Flesh hung loosely from the bone in most spots.

    One hand was half-formed into a hoof, bits of keratin poking out of skin, dried blood where they had pushed through skin. The other hand had sprouted more fingers instead, poking out between the existing fingers, out of knuckles, out of the palm, a chaotic jumble of digits. Strangely, they had been pressed up against his chest crossing each other.

    A second face was pushing its way out from his collarbone, skeletal but covered in red skin drawn taut over bone. Snarling, in its final moments of life it had started biting into the flesh of his shoulder.

    Beautiful, The Imp whispered in my ear.

    I paused, but for once the creature did not suggest eating the dead body, so it must be rather taken with the¡­thing on display in front of us.

    ¡°From a certain point of view,¡± I whispered sarcastically.

    Voltar raised an eyebrow, but no one else seemed to have noticed.

    ¡°Miss Harrow, Miss Barnes, glad for you to join us. I¡¯ll assume you are responsible for the noises outside?¡±

    ¡°The crowd saw what I was and were not too happy about it,¡± I answered him. ¡°Miss Barnes took care of it. I¡¯d like to note for next time you could just arrange for the carriage to take us all the way here?¡±

    ¡°We thought it would,¡± Dawes assured me. ¡°Tensions are high enough that we wouldn¡¯t want to risk it.¡±

    Risk causing a riot or risk my safety? Which had he meant? I squelched that uncharitable thought. Dawes had been nothing but pleasant to me, or as pleasant as he could be.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine. No injuries to anyone that I know of.¡± Tagashin might have caused a few. ¡°Our murder victim I assume?¡±

    ¡°Father Albert Reginald, a priest of Tarver,¡± Voltar said. ¡°Found this morning, last seen alive the night before. Murdered by Diabolism, with further deaths due to the effects of the casting, although for now I believe those to just be collateral. Motive unknown, method obvious on the surface but of course I wanted to bring you in to help with that. Speaking of, if I could have everyone¡¯s attention?¡±

    Various Watch Officers who had been going through the rubble came to attention, much to Waltson¡¯s displeasure as she snorted. Not happy having her authority challenged.

    ¡°Before we begin examining the corpse, we should listen to our expert on Diabolism,¡± Voltar said. ¡°Miss Harrow?¡±

    Expert nothing. I was still learning and my book knowledge has not expanded much beyond what Versalicci allowed. Lessons from the Imp and proscribed books from Intelligence could only help so much.

    ¡°First, no skin-on-skin contact,¡± I said. ¡°In fact, skin on anything is to be avoided if at all possible. It¡¯s unlikely everything in here is a vector to corruption, but it¡¯s still a possibility. I¡¯ll be a little more resistant, but not by much. I¡¯ll test the body as the first part of my examination.¡±

    ¡°Anything besides basic safety measures everyone should know?¡± Walton asked sardonically.

    ¡°There is always someone,¡± I said, and from a few expressions among the gathered Watch, the reminder had been needed. ¡°Needless to say, I suggest everyone involved get a blessing from a priest of their choice in a sanctified church as soon as they are able. Low levels of diabolic corruption aren¡¯t noticeably harmful at first but can cause health issues even decades later. But, more importantly, they make it easier for a Diabolist to cast spells on you.¡±

    Once the Diabolic had its hooks into you, short the intervention of the Divine it only made it easier for the Diabolic to pull on you. Burning from the inside was one of the less insidious tricks. Control you, warp you, cast spells through you. I idly tapped my focus twice with my nail, and I felt a pool from quite a few people in this room. Well, the murderer probably wasn¡¯t here.

    ¡°We should have a priest on hand,¡± I continued. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose there was more than one for this church?¡±

    ¡°Just his apprentice,¡± Waltson said. ¡°Poor lass had gone home at his insistence, come back to open the doors for the people only to find this. Which is when the statues came alive. Poor girl¡¯s with some of my lads and lasses, barely speaking.¡±

    ¡°She survived?¡± Surprising. Divine protection would help against diabolic corruption, but not the animated statue tearing a limb or head off.

    ¡°She fled inside a room that managed to not be unblessed by the Diabolism that killed Father Reginald,¡± Voltar said. ¡°We found her outside of it, the door locked, and no key.¡±

    Ah. A room whose divine protections had been held under a diabolic assault that deblesed a church, and we now could not get inside?

    ¡°Anyone found the key yet?¡± I asked.

    ¡°No, and the Church has representatives due to arrive at any time. Speaking of them, Miss Barnes, if you would-¡°

    Tagashin had already disappeared, and while most of the Watch did a double take at where the Kitsune had stood next to me just a second ago, Voltar simply looked tired.

    ¡°I have asked the Watch to delay them but-¡±

    ¡°Until Imperial Intelligence gets people down here willing to piss off the church¡¯s themselves, our stance on this is not to get the collected religions pissed at us,¡± Waltson said. ¡°Or at least the dozen biggest. I got my officers picking this place apart for that key, but if the priests get here first and say we can¡¯t open that room, we can¡¯t open it.¡±

    ¡°An unfortunate reality. Miss Harrow, can you offer any explanation for the state of Father Reginald?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s rituals to convert someone to a devil,¡± I said. ¡°But they aren¡¯t easy, they aren¡¯t fast, and doing them on your own by hand is essentially doomed to failure. Devils try to make them as easy as possible so fools can give them pawns in this world, but there¡¯s only so much simplification you can do to turn someone into something else without killing them.¡±

    You are correct, but the point of those rituals is to have a living Devil at the end. If instead, one wanted to simply inflict a painful death on the participant, and didn¡¯t care about the limitations involved.

    I nodded slightly. ¡°If your goal is murder, starting it manually with your hands would cause a painful death. But it¡¯s inefficient.¡±

    ¡°Inefficient?¡± Walton asked, trying and failing to look at the priest¡¯s corpse directly. ¡°What, you just nail a bolt of devilish fire or something to their heads instead?¡±

    ¡°Pretty much,¡± I said evenly. ¡°This, this is far too much power, far too hard to control, and your control over it is limited. Hence why the spillover was so bad in this case. Maybe a tenth of what the caster was putting in the spell actually went towards changing the priest, and the rest spread into the church. Hence why the church is desecrated, and why what the corruption made was so powerful.¡±

    ¡°If not for efficiency, a different reason then,¡± Voltar said, pulling back from the body. ¡°A message in the desecrated priest, but also something else. Wiping as much evidence away as possible. We could pick through this for days and not find everything and much of what we could have found may be wiped away. Is there a way to control how corruption is expressed, Miss Harrow?¡±

    I kept a scowl off my face. He could not know what discussions I¡¯d made with the Imp.

    ¡°There are,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯d be hesitant to attribute all of the destruction to that. Could just spray hellfire, hells, or regular fire around for a similar effect. However controlling the corruption while using such an unstable method would be hard. Suicidal even.¡±

    ¡°The goat features,¡± Voltar noted. ¡°There is some symbology to that, isn¡¯t there?¡±

    I didn¡¯t need to consult the Imp to answer that. ¡°Basic, but yes. There are animals generally associated with the Seven Sins and they¡¯re associated with devils, although they¡¯re an extremely imperfect method of sorting devils. Not all devils associate with what we call a sin, there¡¯s quite a few that express multiple animal traits, some that express them in a different category, and no one has ever managed to fully chronicle everything that lurks, crawls, or skitters in the Infernal Planes.¡±

    ¡°But there is a general trend?¡± Voltar reiterated.

    ¡°There is,¡± I said, looking at the corpse. ¡°Non-magical creatures. Pigs and rats are gluttons. Snakes and fish are envious. Wolves are wrathful, cats are prideful. Lust is claimed by insects and Sloth by cows. And goats? Greed.¡±

    Walston looked around the remnants of the humble little church. ¡°Seems a mighty small posting for a greedy fellow.¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t have to be greed for material things specifically,¡± Voltar noted. ¡°Nor even greed he actually had. It could be a greed only the murderer perceived.¡±

    ¡°Assuming there¡¯s a meaning at all,¡± I said. ¡°Could be he just made a deal with a demon of that sin.¡±

    While we talked I tested the corpse. I didn¡¯t even need to cast Diabolism, an artifact attuned to it would prove sufficient. I held my focus pressed against the dead priest¡¯s forehead for ten seconds, bracing myself in case any lingering Diabolism reacted.

    Nothing.

    ¡°Corpse is clean. The Diabolism dissipated surprisingly fast, and before you ask I couldn¡¯t begin to theorize why there¡¯s none left in his body.¡±

    ¡°Could it be the arcane trying to imitate the Diabolic?¡± Dawes asked me, and everyone turned to face him, and he shied away some from the sudden attention. ¡°Not that I am an expert in the matter, my interactions with bodies are purely on the mundane scale. But all of this, well it screams the Diabolic, in a city where people who practice are quite limited even if we include¡­alternative sources of Diabolists.¡±

    My eyes narrowed. Intelligence¡¯s little grouping of Diabolists I was well aware of existing, being part of it even if I didn¡¯t know the other members. But sources made it clear he meant more than just them and whoever might be hiding their magic.

    ¡°A good thought doctor,¡± Voltar said, stepping closer to the corpse. ¡°Miss Harrow can of course test the corpse to determine what energies remain, but more importantly, it cannot be anything but the Diabolic. Miss Harrow?¡±

    Why exactly did he want me to explain? He clearly knew the reason why, so why keep on asking me? This hadn¡¯t happened in the two previous cases. Still, he seemed more interested in examining the corpse, so I started to explain.

    ¡°Divine and Diabolic don¡¯t mix well, but that¡¯s not the reason,¡± I said. Less Watch around us now, so I could be a little more open. ¡°Arcane magic, the various fields, utilizes existing magical phenomena and energy to cast spells or make enchantments. Sorcery taps into wild magic, pockets of it scattered about that attach themselves to people. Arcane magic is a formula to alter the world. I biosculpt using an enchanted set of tools that let me control the cells that make up our bodies. I do alchemy by mixing plants, chemicals, and animal parts that already have existing magical properties. Things that already exist in this world.¡±

    ¡°Some magical creatures come from places not in the world,¡± Watson noted, taking her attention off her carefully searching many.

    ¡°Minor nitpick noted, Captain. Some creatures don¡¯t. Generally, they do, however, unlike the third type of magic.¡±

    I gestured at the profanely desecrated body and altar.

    ¡°The Diabolic and the Divine,¡± I said. ¡°Along with other branches of magic associated with specific powerful entities or places, draw from them instead. All magic of this kind comes from an outside source. Diabolism specifically, will have three sources. Firstly, you either come from this plane or claim descent from it, and this gives you an inborn ability for it. For descent, this is mostly Infernals of the types recognized by the Empire, and lineage is a factor on how much of it you can channel.¡±

    How I gained the ability to channel Diabolism, and since I claimed lineage directly from a Duke of Hell, quite a powerful amount.

    ¡°Second is making deals with the entities for the ability to channel power. You make a deal, pay a cost, and get something in return. Maybe a one-time trade, many multiple times, depending on the price and who you make the deal with.¡±

    This was how most non-Infernals gained the ability to practice diabolism.

    ¡°Thirdly, and most rare, some non-infernals are born with an innate connection, although these are the most dangerous. They aren¡¯t of Infernal descent so their bodies aren¡¯t adapted for it, nor do they have the knowledge or the third-party help of the devils they make deals with. And they tend to get their powers young. They tend to die young.¡±

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t answer the doctor¡¯s question though,¡± Waltson said, crossing her arms.

    ¡°Getting to that,¡± I said. ¡°Divine magic is of a similar nature, although pulling from a god instead. Specifically, in this case, a blessing directly from a god to sanctify his church.¡±

    No interruptions now as the implications of that hit.

    ¡°Arcane magic can¡¯t-¡±

    ¡°No. It can do a lot of things, but directly undo the effects of a deity¡¯s called upon magic? Of this magnitude? No. Not any known arcane caster. So either we are dealing with a hitherto unknown caster of high power, or-¡±

    ¡°-an Infernal caster drawing on a source capable of combating a deity,¡± Voltar said. ¡°Mind you, not every church¡¯s blessing is made equal, but even the most minor ones are quite powerful by mortal standards. Miss Harrow, for comparison''s sake, could you do that?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± I said, then cocked my head as the Imp provided a correction along with an insult. ¡°Eventually maybe, with enough training. But right now? Definitely not. And it wasn¡¯t even an intended effect, just a side effect of the actual spell, transforming the priest.¡±

    The entire room was silent, even the Watch officers who had halted their work. Everyone except Voltar, who continued examining the corpse.

    ¡°No defensive wounds,¡± Voltar said, examining what non-changed fingers the priest had on his hands. ¡°Add to that the need for the murderer to touch the priest to begin the transformation, and how powerful divine Magic typically is against Diabolic workings.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s more Halspus specifically,¡± I noted. ¡°He¡¯s the one whose magic disrupts and destroys Diabolism the best.¡±

    Activity resumed, probably to help take minds off of what I¡¯d just stated. Voltar put the hand back in place, frowning.

    ¡°Hands were in this position and eyes were close when the body was found. Indicates a degree of empathy.¡±

    ¡°Empathy?¡± I asked. ¡°He chose a very painful method of death to then show empathy.¡±

    ¡°Yes, but not unheard of,¡± Voltar said. ¡°Still, too early to tell.¡±

    He left the body, walking across the floor. Most of the floor was covered in scorch marks, except for one piece that had been reaseembled by Watch Hands. Two sets of bootprints in the form of unscorched flooring.

    ¡°What is left of the floor indicates that the two were facing each other when the initial blast of corruption began. From the fact that Father Reginald¡¯s back is less corrupted than his front, we can surmise that the attack was from his front. The picture being painted is most interesting.¡±

    I wasn¡¯t slow on the uptake, but Dawes was a little faster in articulating what Voltar was suggesting. ¡°He knew his attacker. Trusted him even.¡±

    ¡°Trust might be a strong word,¡± I said. ¡°Confident in being unharmed perhaps.¡±

    ¡°Not wrong Miss Harrow, but I think if he¡¯d been more prepared we would be dealing with more of a fight. Still a possibility. Dr. Dawes, Ms. Harrow, which of you would like to-¡±

    Tagashin was back next to me, looking like she had never even left. ¡°Priests are on their way. Captain¡¯s officers are slowing them down but they got a very loud, very shouty one in the front who no one wants to cross.¡±

    ¡°Ah,¡± said Voltar, taking her sudden appearance in stride. ¡°Yes, I think I know which ones these are. Miss Harrow, prepare yourself.¡±

    I stared at the detective uncomprehendingly. Prepare myself for what? Priests? I doubt they¡¯d be happy about me being in here, but still no need for a warning.

    Oh wait. Hells no.

    ¡°What would he even be doing here?¡± I hissed. ¡°What aren¡¯t you telling me Voltar?¡±

    I could hear voices now, footsteps coming closer. I¡¯d kept the sculpts on my ears, far too useful to ever undo. Many voices. One very familiar voice as they argued with the Watch at the wrecks of the doors.

    Those swung open, an assortment of priests barging their way inside over the protests of the Watch guards. Including Gregory Montague.

 Chapter 3 - Profane III

    The first thing to focus on when the group of priests entered was anything but one specific priest. Anything at all, such as how strange it was for all of them to be forming an united front in forcing their way in here.

    Each of the priests, fourteen in total, represented a different deity which was shocking. Most popular deities in the Anglean empire were of the same pantheon of course. The proper one, not those improper ones like the Keltish gods, the elven deities, or worse yet the archdevils and assorted most powerful devils of the hells.

    Even still, disagreements were public, messy, and had often resulted in wars in the past. No longer any public fighting these days, with the Empress making clear that she would not tolerate any conflicts caused by disagreements between the faiths. Not even from her twin patron deities of Halspus or Maldeura.

    Only one of those were represented here by a wild-haired Kelt, red-hair mixed with the white of encroaching old age, just as with eyes affixed on me, staring with hatred. Symbols on his robes included a spike of pure light being driven into a devil, bisecting it in twain. Halspus. Joy.

    Next to him was a priestess of Zaviel who moved and looked like she was a young woman, around my age. If you ignored the massive number of lines, liver spots, and wrinkles flooding her skin, the white, wizened hair, and other signs of aging at odds with the ease she moved.

    Zaviel was the god of the dead, and specifically the restful dead, keeping watch over their souls and protecting from the predations of necromancers and their ilk. A bit of a sore spot that necromancy could have licenses purchased to practice, although manipulation of the soul was for most cases forbidden and the licenses were rare.

    Must still rankle that some held Imperial permission to mess with those Zaviel¡¯s clergy were suppose to protect.

    Most of the rest were a random assortment of deities that seemed odd to bring together. Daltaran, coins, merchants, and trade, whose thin, bookish representative seemed bored. Tildae, healing and purification, whose rotund priestess was already looking over the ruined temple, probably planning a purification. Gallock, the arts. Savareth, the ocean. Kersov, the wilds. Zavan, a recent transplant from the dwarf pantheon who allowed his worshippers among the empire, unlike the other dwarf deities. They¡¯d gone underground with their followers, leaving the god of Tunnels and Mines alone. Their priestess was separate from the others, that foot of distance might as well be a mile. Baltaren, the night. Semiv, the god of watchmen and police, who was exchanging a pleasant nod with Walston. A second one, who was hanging back near the entrance, apologizing to the guards. There was a second Daltaran here as well, writing something in a ledger.

    Near the back, a thin, smiling elven representative of Larreran was trying to get my attention. I ignored him. The goddess of thieves had been trying to make inroads with the Quarter even before the restrictions on it had been lifted, but that was hardly a sign of trust. And I wasn¡¯t going to trade one life of crime for another.

    That left Tarver¡¯s representative.

    Gregory Montague looked much the same as when I¡¯d told him to leave my shop or I¡¯d tear out his throat. His arms might be a little thicker, his shoulders a touch more broad.

    It would be completely improper to inquire if he¡¯d been working out. Also not something I was interested in. If anything, it only made him more of a threat.

    Not that any of this assortment of priests lacked in threat value, considering the arsenal of divine firepower they represented, all of it capable of harming me on contact.

    None so dangerous as the Priest of Halspus in front, who pointed an accusing finger at me.

    ¡°What are you planning to do with Father Reginald¡¯s holy body, you Foulhorn?¡± The Priest of Halspus roared, light gathering in his hand.

    Walston¡¯s face tightened. She might not like me, but having someone under her charge threatened directly would irritate her more, I believed.

    I was right as she snapped and guns were levelled from all sides, aimed directly at the Priest, whose eyes narrowed. Others in the entourage paled, clearly not expecting this escalation. The Zaviel priestess at his side closed her eyes, aged and lined face resigned as she began to cast something.

    Mind you, those weren¡¯t eager guns being aimed at the group of priests. Most of these Watch were probably devout worshippers of at least some of these deities, and defending my diabolic hide by shooting priests wouldn¡¯t sit well with them.

    Hells, even ignoring that, some of them would be thinking how much they wanted to get involved in a power struggle between the secular and the religous over a single Infernal.

    Time to nip this in the bud as much as I could.

    ¡°I¡¯m taking samples,¡± I answered. ¡°Skin, hair, a few others that perhaps shouldn¡¯t be mentioned in polite company. Alchemical analysis for later.¡±

    ¡°You are tainting his body with your profane presence,¡± The Priest accused, the light gathered in his hand not fading.

    ¡°There¡¯s not too much left to taint,¡± I said. ¡°But I have not used any diabolism on the body, as anyone here can attest. You can check it yourself if you wish, the body is quite inert now.¡±

    This did not seem to calm him down, and the strangely aged priestess moved to his side.

    Gregory Montague moved to the other, whispering something in his ear, which at least made the Priest shoot a venom filled glare at someone beside me as he muttered something back.

    The aged priestess of Zaviel whispered something into his other ear, and he seemed to listen to that. The light in his hand dimmed, not going away, but no longer the magical equivalent of a hair trigger.

    She stepped forward, a smile pulling all the wrinkles and sagging skin into something that still managed to be friendly. ¡°We have perhaps gotten off on the wrong foot to start with. My apologies, as it wasn¡¯t our intention to be so hostile.¡±

    Strange talk for a group that had forced their way past the Watch to get here, but I turned back to my work, trying to fade into the background. My best chances of not causing another fuss was by fading into the background.

    ¡°I am Lilian Derrick, bishop in service to Zaviel, the god of the restful dead,¡± she said, inclining her head slightly. ¡°Accompanying me is Bishop Matthew Gallespie of the faith of Halspus, Father Halpert Murroud-¡±

    I tuned out the introductions of the others, just making a note of who went with each deity and matching faces to names. I did note that Montague was not a Father, but instead a ¡®Special Envoy¡¯ from the church of Tarver, whatever that meant. Higher or lower? He¡¯d been introduced last, so probably lower.

    As the introductions finished, Bishop Derrick did smile apologetically.

    ¡°We do apologize for the abruptness of our accusations, but you could see why we might be suspicious, what with the aftermath of a murder done with Diabolism being examined by an Infernal who..well, practices.¡±

    I bit back a sigh. We¡¯d done our best to hide that little fact after the shape-change incident, but if one had their ear close enough to the ground¡­.well that or Montague had just told them, which was infuriating if that was the case.

    ¡°Miss Harrow is assisting me with this case,¡± Voltar said. ¡°And unless I was misinformed, as this is a Diabolism attack in the city limits, it falls under the purview of the City Watch, who are employing me. Captain Waltson, do you concur with Father Gallespie?¡±

    I kept to my own work, taking a little satisfaction in how infuriated the priest looked. Hair samples next, finding limp brown strands that had survived, trying to make sure I didn¡¯t grab from the loose clumps of brown fur that had started poking through his irritated and red skin.

    ¡°I do not concur,¡± Walston rumbled. ¡°The little hellspawn is a pain, but more help than hindrance.¡±

    ¡°She is spawned from the same forces that did in Father Reginald,¡± Bishop Gallaspie noted.

    ¡°There is no evidence that it was specifically an Infernal who did there murders yet, Bishop,¡± Voltar noted.

    ¡°Their magic. Their profane gifts. The thing that more easily enters this world because of them!¡±

    ¡°More importantly, this is a crime on property belonging to the Church of Tarver,¡± Bishop Derrick noted. ¡°As is such, the church has a responsibility to investigate on our own the details of the crime.¡±

    Waltson cleared her throat uncomfortably, seeming more than a little reluctant to speak up. ¡°To be your pardon, your grace, while this is true all crimes related to Diabolism do fall under the purview of the Imperial government, no matter where they occur and who their victims may be.¡±

    ¡°And while the unified churches of the Imperial Pantheon understand, we cannot let the investigation be entirely in Imperial hands,¡± Bishop Derrick said. ¡°We could perhaps pool our efforts?¡±

    I couldn¡¯t help but notice what wasn¡¯t being mentioned. Namely why so many deities had members of their clergy here, or so soon. A response to a diabolic murder of a priest causing the various churches to close ranks and try to solve this matter? Certainly, that made sense.

    Mere hours after it had occurred? Nonsense. Something was fishy.

    ¡°We would be happy to assist you,¡± Voltar said. ¡°Although having fourteen people on your investigative team-¡±

    ¡°More,¡± Bishop Derrick said apologetically. ¡°Some representatives for other deities were unable to come on such short notice.¡±

    ¡°More than fourteen then, makes for far too many cooks in the kitchen,¡± Voltar noted.

    Gallaspie frowned, apparently deciding now was the time to raise his voice again. ¡°Primarily, you would deal with either me or Bishop Derrick. Or young Montague, as it is Tarver¡¯s priest who has been slain by diabolism most foul. Us three will be the voices on the other side.¡±

    That got some angry looks and derisive expressions from his fellow clergy, but no one voiced their dissent.

    ¡°For now cooperation?¡± Derrick asked, and after a second, Voltar nodded.

    ¡°Was Father Reginald prone to any vices?¡± Voltar asked while I clipped a nail. Rather crumbly, already pieces were flaking off of it to the floor below.

    ¡°Vices? Reginald?¡± One of the other priests said. Daltaran if the miniature scales on his buttons were any indication. Business and commerce. A very wide array of deities indeed.

    The comment caused a wave of wry amusement among the gathered priests.

    This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

    ¡°Father Reginald was a devout follower of Tarver, Mr. Voltar,¡± Gregory Montague said with a sly grin on his face as Gallespie¡¯s already stony expression hardened further. ¡°If you mean the classical expressions from what is theorized about the Hells, any devout follower of our god would qualify at least for two, maybe three. He was fond of a good nap, so perhaps four that he might be found guilty of by some.¡±

    By now Father Gallespie might as well be carved from granite, leaving no doubts to one of those ¡®some¡¯ being among us.

    ¡°Greed,¡± I said, Gregory¡¯s expression becoming forced just a little at my interruption. ¡°We want to know if he was greedy. In any definition of that term.¡±

    Gallespie caught on first. ¡°Ah. The form he has been corrupted into, you wish to know if that was the effect of his soul?¡±

    That was not how that worked, but I was hardly going to correct him. He¡¯d finally said a sentence to me without a slur or calling me some profane creature. Perhaps we could bond over a shared dislike for Gregory Montague? I doubted it.

    ¡°That or the killer chose it for him based on some personal message or belief,¡± I said. ¡°The murder was done with a forced version of the rituals used to convert willing souls into devils. In this case, an unwilling host, and a very powerful caster aiming for death. We were wondering if this might be some kind of judgment?¡±

    Gallaspie snorted. ¡°A user of the profane pretending to wield it in service of the divine? Any divine? Judgment? Hah. Only a fool would think that would work.¡±

    That seemed to unsettle the priest¡¯s around him, while Derrick signed resignedly before putting on a patient but slightly forced smile.

    ¡°Bishop Gallaspie¡¯s opinions are his own, but I see your point about how even the most deranged of killers may try to find logic and justifications for their actions. Father Reginald was not considered by me to be greedy, but I did not know him the best. Father Montague?¡±

    Calling Gregory Montague father seemed like a bad joke to me, but I held my tongue as he cleared his throat.

    ¡°Father Reginald was well-respected, almost paradoxically. The man could be both the respected father figure of the church while being the life of the party. And a very skilled piano player. He could have had the pick of the litter when it came to postings among our churches, but he came here because he felt this place could use some livening up.¡±

    Well, if one took a very dark view of what had happened, he certainly had livened things up.

    ¡°He just wanted to help his community, to do some good in the world, help some people find themselves.¡±

    Montague sounded on the verge of tears, and I was forced to admit, crying over this man didn¡¯t sound too unreasonable.

    For Hell¡¯s sake, I¡¯d cried over Golvar weeks beforehand, I couldn¡¯t throw stones.

    ¡°If we could,¡± Bishop Derrick asked calmly, ¡°we would like to purify this church? Sanctifying is out of the question, but we can rid it of any leftover Diabolism.¡±

    ***

    Purification meant going outside until it was over so I didn¡¯t get burned by the divine magic. Wanting to get out of here before the purification began meant accidentally running into a still red in the eyes Gregory Montague.

    ¡°Miss Harrow,¡± he said, the words awkward in his mouth.

    ¡°Lord Montague,¡± I replied, and some small part of me took joy in that little wince that he quickly covered up.

    Didn¡¯t like being compared to daddy dearest, did you? Certainly happy to keep living in his manor.

    ¡°I want to talk about details of the case, as well as one private matter by ou-¡±

    ¡°Take it to Voltar,¡± I cut him off bluntly. ¡°I have no desire to talk to you, no willingness, and would rather trade theories with Bishop Gallaspie.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯ll think you did it,¡± Montague said. ¡°Even thought you have hooves and those are clearly the imprints of four shoes or boots on the temple floor.¡±

    ¡°Hrrm? That doesn¡¯t mean anything.¡±

    Montague waited, clearly expecting me to explain that statement, but I said nothing and he stormed off in a huff.

    The Flame and other groups had figured out shoes for hooves to fit into ages ago. Hells, there¡¯d been a time where the citizens of Anglea widely believed Infernals could only have hooves, not normal feet, so if they only found foot or bootprints, clearly an Infernal could not have done this!

    It only worked on the gullible, and as it had spread, it became less useful. These days, most use them as fashion accessories, although I never could. Made my legs hurt too much.

    I settled in outside the church, shivering despite my warm jacket. Snow was starting to fall, not much but enough to add a chill to the air. I kept my warmth as best I could, and waited for them to finish, when my enhanced hearing picked up a conversation from two very distinct voices.

    ¡°-we didn¡¯t pool together the resources to hire you to settle for ¡®I can¡¯t find him¡¯, Mr. Voltar. Nor do I believe you actually can¡¯t find him!¡±

    Gregory Montague, irate and loud enough to be heard.

    ¡°Perhaps your brother doesn¡¯t want to be found,¡± Voltar replied calmly. ¡°Not after certain events that took place. His current state of being. And frankly while I have always been interested in crossing wits with a Drake, I fail to see why they would hide your brother¡¯s presence unless he requested it himself.¡±

    Silence on Gregory¡¯s end for a while, and when he talked again, it was an entirely different subject he brought up.

    ¡°You¡¯re going to need a new diabolism expert,¡± he told Voltar bluntly.

    I held my breath, wanting nothing that could obscure what I heard next.

    ¡°Do I?¡± Voltar replied evenly. ¡°Is there any objectionable reason for Miss Harrow? Do you wish to add your voice to Bishop Gallespie¡¯s objections?¡±

    ¡°Do me the favor of not comparing me to that bigot,¡± Gregory Montague snapped. ¡°Neither me, my god, or my superiors in Tarver¡¯s church. My reasons are personal, and based on the fact that not only is working with Miss Harrow going to prove difficult, I am not going to be held responsible if she slips out from under your thumb and decides she needs to¡­.bite someone¡¯s eye out for information. Carve someone¡¯s soul out for information, or gas an orphanage to try and catch a single person hiding in the building. Are you comfortable with that?¡±

    I clenched my fist, nails biting into the my skin. That was¡­.well the first was just a good option in the heat of combat and sometimes the threat of it he helped shake some compliance out of reluctant informants. Sometimes that meant getting teeth on the eyeball. The second, well it depended on the soul in question, and if they were alive or dead, and there were other factors at play.

    The third I would never do. Not for any target. Although I suppose if Aunt Diwei, Lord Montague or Versalicci were the ones being chased, I might ask about the number of orphans in the building.

    I wasn¡¯t denying these were horrible actions, but sometimes horribleness was necessary. And I was not going to be judged by some silver-spooned dandy who¡¯d barely worked a day in his life besides swooning ladies and gentlemen. Oh how hard a life must be, spent trying to charm everyone out of their skirts and pants.

    I¡¯d been so caught up debating that in my head, I nearly missed Voltar¡¯s reply.

    ¡°Moral objections I think are not so easy to raise given some of the company in your own group. Honestly, when Bishop Gallaspie is one of the least objectionable members of the little group that¡¯s been assembled. What on this planet, or I suppose above it, instructed you to make a group out of so many outcasts, power players, and a few competent individuals like Lillian Derrick?¡±

    ¡°They are all faithful, competent priests of their faiths,¡± Montague replied icily. ¡°I may not agree with their views, or their faults, but I would trust them at my side in every case. More importantly, I would trust them not to bite into an infant if it meant getting what they wanted.¡±

    My mind stopped. I was aware of course. Standing here, in this corridor, a good ways away from the little shit who had just insinuated I ate children.

    How hard, to cover it up? Voltar was there, wait for later then. Could hardly slit his throat and stay in anyone¡¯s good graces. Did he still live in his father¡¯s mansion? Perhaps two birds with one stone, since while he¡¯d not tried to kill me yet, I had no doubts Lord Montague intended to try someday.

    Meanwhile, as I fumed and plotted, the conversation continued.

    ¡°It is a little amusing that when given the long breadth of crimes Malvia Harrow has committed in her time since birth, you have chosen to accuse her of the one crime I am quite sure she never would actually do.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t deny the rest then?¡± Gregory Montague pressed as I forced myself still as much as the urge to sprint down the hallway and bite out his throat took over.

    I bet noble tastes so refined compared to other throats, The Imp commented in my head. Later of course, which I bet you know from your restraining yourself, but once you catch him and kill him however you want, I know the exact way to put his assorted pieces on a spit and roast him over a flame.

    The Imp practically salivating in my head over eating him actually dampened the roaring fire in my veins just a tad if only because, for both the Imp and Gregory-I did not eat people.

    ¡°Just because she doesn¡¯t live up to your expectations doesn¡¯t means she¡¯s a monster, Lord Montague-¡±

    ¡°Enough of the lordships! First her and now you with that nonsense. Father has disowned me in all but name-¡±

    ¡°But you still keep the name, and you are nobility. And to be frank, when I speak of Bishop Gallaspie being one of the least odious priests you have along with you? The man has driven silver spikes into Infernals back when that was the fashion. Including those not yet adults. And to this day still advocates for the death of all Infernals in the quarter because of the chance one of them might breach the boundary between here and the Hells and raise a new gate. Of course, non-Infernals can do that too, so one wonders about his motives there.¡±

    A pause, hesitation when Montague spoke again. ¡°I was unaware of some of that, however, Bishop Gallaspie is only-¡±

    ¡°-a well-respected member of Halspus¡¯ clergy who has attained high rank and also seems to dislike you personally. And yet you feel the need to defend him while questioning the inclusion of someone who has yet to cause an issue.¡±

    ¡°Her past actions-¡°

    ¡°Are not any indication of her being an issue now. Quite honestly, Malvia Harris is very easy to work with despite any objections to her methods or morals I might have. Any issues with her you might have are not ones I do, and so she will be employed in regards to this case. And that assumes I even have a choice in this. By tomorrow I could easily have a letter instructing me that she is to assigned to this until it is finished.¡±

    ¡°A letter from your brother?¡± Gregory said bitterly. ¡°How convenient.¡±

    ¡°If you think I can manipulate my brother into making Imperial Intelligence dance to my tune, or that I would risk it if that is the case, is more a sign than anything else. Drop this Gregory. And, no one is asking you to like her, just to co-exist with her.¡±

    ¡°She won¡¯t talk to me.¡±

    ¡°She might not need to, considering you have your superiors, she has hers. But perhaps she¡¯ll be willing at some future point. But I am not removing her from this case.¡±

    Silence after that, then one set of footsteps heading away. I waited till they faded from my hearing, then went up the ladder.

    Voltar leaned against a railing in the rafters of the small church, somehow enjoying the cold air blowing in from outside.

    ¡°So, Miss Harrow, did you overhear all of that conversation or just a significant chunk of it?¡±

    I cocked my head to the side. ¡°Now how did you know that?¡±

    ¡°Body language,¡± he replied. ¡°You tend to tense and your foot-no I suppose hoofsteps are just slightly more delayed when you walk.¡±

    ¡°Hrrm, I¡¯ll have to work on that. A significant chunk of it. ¡®Easy to work with despite any objections to her methods and morals¡¯, am I?¡±

    ¡°Am I wrong?¡± Voltar said. ¡°Besides, I don¡¯t believe I offered the worst insult to your character during that conversation.¡±

    ¡°A lesser offense,¡± I said mildly ¡°is still an offense.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not going to declare you some moral paragon because we work together,¡± Voltar replied. ¡°You have done horrible things in the past. I think in the future you¡¯ll do some thing I cannot stomach, and I¡¯ll request that Intelligence not assign us to work together again. But for now? We can work together. You are rather insightful, sharp, and provide a perspective on issues that I appreciate.¡±

    ¡°Just not moral ones.¡±

    ¡°No, those as well, not just the ones people normally expect.¡±

    I tensed, tried to think of a reply as I puzzled that out, and then gave up.

    ¡°I concede and take the compliment,¡± I said.

    ¡°Not all conversations are fights to be won, Malvia.¡±

    I sighed. ¡°I do not really want to discuss it anymore.¡±

    Below us, the priests were leaving, marching out into the cold. Snow had started to fall, blanketing the carnage outside in a dense white sheet. The Watch had removed the chunks of animated statue by now. No one wanted to deal with the nightmarish possibility of Infernal corruption spreading into the snow.

    The assorted clergy were busy talking amongst themselves in a single knot, while a carriage tried to make its way to them through the snowfall.

    ¡°Something stinks,¡± I said. ¡°This many clerics of disparate deities coming together, even more we haven¡¯t met, all organized and ready hours after the event they are responding to.¡±

    ¡°Yes, and with so many faces I personally hoped to never see again.¡±

    ¡°A very distrustful group of people,¡± I opined, watching some of them leave via carriage. A few of them stayed behind, presumably to keep watch for the moment daylight would come. And to record our comings and goings of course. Including Gregory, although the two leaders were leaving.

    Either more important business to attend to, or possibly bones too old and weary to stay out here all night.

    There were others inside the church itself, including Tildae¡¯s priestess watching over the surviving adept who we still needed to talk to.

    ¡°Perhaps,¡± Voltar said. ¡°You are biased against their profession, and especially against any group with a certain priest of Tarver in attendance.¡±

    The drumming of my fingers stopped.

    ¡°Voltar, do you regularly inquire into people¡¯s love lives?¡±

    ¡°Only when it is crucial to solving a case,¡± Voltar replied, earning a snort from Dawes.

    The detective¡¯s gaze swung toward his companion, who smiled without humor.

    ¡°You do have a tendency to poke and prod when it is unnecessary, Edmund. And perhaps be a bit blunt about it. And definitely not always for a case.¡±

    ¡°It is usually for the case,¡± Voltar said briskly.

    ¡°There¡¯s a reason you aren¡¯t invited to the wedding,¡± Dawes told him bluntly. ¡°Quite frankly, I can¡¯t blame her either. Seriously, you had Charlie go to Alattia to check her background? Alattia?¡±

    I grinned, happy to have the subject of this conversation firmly moved off of me.

    ¡°Isn¡¯t Alattia on the far side of two oceans and a pair of continents from us? What poor fool got sent there to check your fianc¨¦e¡¯s background Doctor Dawes?¡±

    ¡°One of our oldest friends, who is still on his way back from having found out that she was completely innocent of what Voltar initially suspected.¡±

    Voltar rolled his eyes. ¡°Yes, because the logical deduction from artwork vanishing from wherever she visited four days after was a living, sentient curse designed to look exactly like her. We found the true culprit eventually, and-¡±

    I let the bickering fade into pleasant background noise as we went to interview the adept.

 Chapter 4 -Profane IV

    Father Reginald¡¯s young adept was a half-elven lass a few years younger than me, brown hair cut to a precise bob.

    From the other side of the room, watching, she¡¯d been shivering since we¡¯d entered, her fingers wrapped around a small metal lute while her eyes danced all over the room, frantically scanning for any threat. When they passed over me there was a small involuntary flinch every time.

    As much as it pained me to admit, I couldn¡¯t blame her for that. Not with what hung from the church¡¯s altar.

    I¡¯d settled in, far enough off to the side from the rest that she could safely ignore me, close enough to still hear the discussion between Voltar and the Priestess of Tildae who¡¯d taken charge of the young adept.

    ¡°Do not press her too much,¡± the Priestess of Tildae said sternly, eyes firm as she stared at Voltar. ¡°She¡¯s had a very bad shock, and I¡¯ll not have my patient be unsettled by your questioning.¡±

    ¡°I will only ask questions Miss Lionel is comfortable with,¡± Voltar assured her.

    ¡°Patients are not the best judge of their own limits,¡± she snapped, and Dawes gave a reluctant nod of agreement.

    ¡°To your satisfaction then.¡±

    How much of this was genuine concern, and how much was an effort to keep us from asking questions this group would find inconvenient?

    ¡°Still if you make that poor girl so much as twi-¡°

    ¡°Delilah?¡± The adept said, voice a little shaky. ¡°I want to help them.¡±

    Delilah frowned, giving first me and then Voltar scouring looks. ¡°Clara, you don¡¯t need these-¡±

    ¡°I said I¡¯m willing,¡± Clara said tiredly. ¡°If I don¡¯t want to answer a question of theirs, I won¡¯t. Mr. Voltar?¡±

    Seemingly not wanting to risk anything causing Delilah to cut this short, Voltar launched into the most important question first.

    ¡°Miss Lionel, when you left Father Reginald last night, did you notice anything out of the ordinary? Did he seem upset, distressed, or anything like that? Did you notice anything when you left?¡±

    She shook her head, not looking Voltar in the eye, gaze focused on a patch of the floor.

    ¡°Father Reginald seemed happy. People in this part of the city were finally becoming receptive to us being here in addition to the Olgen, Halspus, and other temples in Belton. I left him that night, he was content, and I walked home with not a thing I spotted out of sight.¡±

    ¡°Would there have been someone who Father Reginald might have been meeting that night?¡±

    ¡°No!¡± she said vehemently, only to pause and then shake her head. ¡°He¡¯d open the church up for someone in need, someone he knew. But there¡¯s been a string of robberies locally, he wouldn¡¯t open it up for a stranger.¡±

    A string of robberies? Potentially worth looking into. It could have been someone practicing their craft in preparation for a greater challenge. And even if it wasn¡¯t the killer, thieves tended to keep their ears low to the ground. Good odds they might know something useful.

    ¡°The room you went to,¡± Voltar asked, and I did not miss the brief deepening of Delilah¡¯s disapproving frown, ¡°the one that remained sanctified even after what happened. What was that room, and how did it survive whatever removed the rest of the church¡¯s blessing?¡±

    ¡°Father Reginal¡¯s safety place. He always believed there should be a redoubt,¡± the adept said, eyes distant. ¡°He said he¡¯d lived through some bad days, and that he¡¯d learned you always kept a place you could be sure was safe. I thought he was foolish, it was Belton, nothing ever happens here.¡±

    Logic I could agree with. You learned fast to have a place to flee to where you could be as safe as you could manage. If you didn¡¯t have a bolthole, it left you out in the open, the worst place to be.

    ¡°I thought it was just foolish talk,¡± Lionel said, the shakes coming back worse than before. ¡°But then I opened the doors¡­and that thing burst out! The only reason I survived is because it knocked me to the side and it started attacking everyone, it punched off Miss Harver¡¯s head and tore Mr. Malden¡¯s head off and it just¡­I couldn¡¯t think what to do so I ran inside and saw Father Reginald turned into that thing and I¡­I ran inside the office, wrenched it open, and hid inside there till the Watch officers opened the door. I just¡­I should have fought!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d be dead,¡± I replied, and everyone¡¯s gaze turned towards me, hers with another wince. ¡°It was a possessed statue made of solid stone. No offense, but you wouldn¡¯t have done much to it. You just would have gotten yourself killed.¡±

    ¡°I could have brought some of them inside with me,¡± she continued, not looking any of us in the face, staring at the floor.

    Dawes hesitantly put a hand on her shoulder, and she didn¡¯t shy away.

    ¡°There are times where the choice we make is to save ourselves,¡± he said solemnly. ¡°Asking ourselves if we could have done differently will never change that, and it won¡¯t help the dead. Letting it eat at you won¡¯t help.¡±

    From there the conversation turned to safer questions. I¡¯m sure Voltar could deduce something from the assortment of details about Father Reginald''s personal life and the affairs of this small church, I puzzled out very little.

    ***

    ¡°That seems like a young woman with an awful lot to hide,¡± I noted once we were well out of the range of even enhanced hearing. Elves could still hear, but the chatter of the Watch around us and my low tone should help disguise my words.

    ¡°Recognizing a kindred spirit?¡± Voltar said in a similarly low tone as Dawes joined us, having tarried a while longer with the young adept.

    I snorted. ¡°Perhaps, but no, so eager to help, only to just happen to lack the answers we need?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s entirely possible the girl doesn¡¯t know,¡± Dawes said. ¡°She¡¯s been through a tremendous shock. Or are you claiming she¡¯s faking?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± I replied. ¡°But both can be true.¡±

    ¡°Both are true,¡± Voltar said. ¡°She hid the key.¡±

    Both of us perked up at that, turning our attention to him as he ushered us over to a corner.

    ¡°That key was hidden by the apprentice, in a small hollowed brick down the corridor from the doorway. I talked with the first Watch on the scene, and she was still inside the chamber when they arrived. Following her tracks and consulting on when she was being watched the least gave me approximate locations to try. My second guess was the correct one. She was slightly sloppy replacing the brick on the wall, while it all shares the same dry crumbly mortar, there is a difference between natural disintegration and material hurriedly shoved back into cracks to fill them.¡±

    ¡°So you removed the key?¡± I frowned. In terms of time, we didn¡¯t lose much if we assumed they wouldn¡¯t be able to check that brick until tomorrow morning. If they could check it beforehand, they would know, and depending on how much they wanted to protect what was inside, it could get messy.

    ¡°Not quite,¡± Voltar clarified. ¡°I made a mold of the key.¡±

    He reached inside his coat pocket, pulled out a small box, and opened it. Inside a semi-solid substance filled the box, split along the seam that had. Embedded on either side was one of the two faces of the key.

    I looked at the mold, the indentations of the key still firmly pressed into it, then looked back up to Voltar.

    ¡°They¡¯ll arrange for things to be removed as quickly as they can, and the Watch are only here for tonight,¡± I said.

    ¡°Then what luck that I know a good locksmith who doesn¡¯t ask questions,¡± Voltar replied, smiling slightly. ¡°Meet me back here in three hours, and I want you to bring something with you from my house.¡±

    ***

    Three hours had been pushing it, and even with the carriage both I and Tagashin had come in on still ready and waiting. I wished I had the kitsune with me and the driver to help load the cargo, but she was keeping an eye on the gaggle of clergy outside and inside the church keeping an eye on us.

    Hells, maybe they knew about her, and someone was keeping an eye on her. Either way, I¡¯d have appreciated the extra hands as the carriage came to a stop outside the church, a few minutes past that three-hour mark.

    I scurried down from the driver¡¯s bench, nodding my thanks to the driver and leaving a small tip in her hands. I didn¡¯t care if she was a long-time helper of Voltar, you always tipped those who worked under you.

    It kept them from selling you out for a song and a few coins down the line. Basic, simple, everyday sense.

    ¡°Hurry Miss Harrow, time is wasting,¡± Voltar said from the doorway, the ass. Dawes at least moved to help me. Who knew where Tagashin was and the Watch didn¡¯t seem to care at all.

    ¡°I am hurrying,¡± I hissed, reaching inside the carriage for the first bulky box. ¡°Do you want to help, or just grandstand up at the entrance?¡±

    I wish it was simply empty, or filled with something lighter than the actual equipment. Unfortunately, a very valid point had been raised that our watchers might be able to discover what was inside. And some of them might even know what it was.

    Honestly, Intelligence must have given this to Voltar. I couldn¡¯t imagine they¡¯d let him keep an entire ritual apparatus to summon a dead soul if they knew.

    Voltar had ventured closer to help, a smug grin on his face. Not very characteristic of him, but he¡¯d insisted on playing the part. I didn¡¯t doubt his logic, but I felt it was an overly flamboyant embellishment to make the assorted clergy feel like they were getting one up on us.

    I suppose the other reason was to make it clear we had failed. No reason to panic the priests by making them suspect we had successfully raised up Father Reginald¡¯s soul for a chat.

    Getting inside, Walston was gone, and the mutton-chopped sergeant left behind took some time to cajole into helping with the unpacking.

    The device was several pre-cast ritual circles that were collapsible. Together, they provided the base shape for a spell to communicate with the dead, once the ritual was read aloud and the proper sacrifices made. The Watch set about fitting those together and trying to fit them onto the cracked, uneven floor around the altar while Voltar gestured for me to come closer.

    ¡°As they say in Delanten,¡± he said, producing a key from his pocket. ¡°Voila.¡±

    His accent was atrocious, but I let that detail pass without comment.

    ¡°Your locksmith is a very fast worker,¡± I whispered, looking at the key.

    No visible imperfections compared to the mold, not even the slightest bit of excess material or slightly malformed tooth. Magework, more than likely.

    ¡°Yes, and I did get a replacement piece for the ritual set in case I was followed,¡± Voltar replied before raising his voice. ¡°Unfortunately, the arrangement of the array needs to be precise since I was unable to secure a necromancer to aid us. You¡¯ll have to bore holes in the floor.¡±

    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    The groans and moans of the Watch in protest were entirely authentic since they¡¯d have to try digging through the rock.

    ¡°I do want to protest trying this again,¡± I said, gesturing at the boxes. ¡°This is probably going to end up pointless. The poor priest¡¯s soul is probably already in Tarver¡¯s realm, enjoying¡­.what do they promise for that afterlife?¡±

    I¡¯d never studied it. Outside of my disinterest in the deities in general, no use looking into someplace I could never be allowed to enter.

    ¡°Ilatea, a place of music, artistry, and an awful lot of partying. Not the kind Lord Montague hosts. But, and I may be correct in surmising this, the poor Father Reginald, being transformed partially into a devil upon death, may find his soul being torn between two planes, and thus find himself stranded here. Or perhaps being fought over.¡±

    ¡°Souls don¡¯t tend to stay here when there¡¯s much attention on them,¡± I countered as I pretended to pull out some of the ritual equipment.

    My studies of necromancy were not extensive, as I¡¯d never taken to it like I had other magical fields, and also the illegality. It was hard enough to study the completely forbidden art of Diabolism safely, to find books and records and avenues to research that weren¡¯t likely to blow up in my face. Adding a second one to study just a bit less illegal and inaccessible had been out of the question.

    That didn¡¯t mean I knew nothing, and one was that most souls used in necromancy were those without an important claim. Every soul had a tug, a pull on it after death based on their accomplishments and who they had favored in life. Priests, favored of the various gods, even those innately related to an outer plane like us Infernals, traveled fast to an afterlife. Others lingered, some taking years or even longer to leave. With some, it was a pull and tug between anchors on the mortal plane and those in others, so some stuck around for decades, even centuries.

    A soul caught between planes was definitely not one of those cases.

    ¡°Should have got the priests to help with this,¡± I said, as we kept to the central chamber for now. We were approaching the time when we could slip off to the sealed, still sanctified chamber, but we needed to burn time a little longer.

    ¡°Yes, and I am sure Bishop Derrick would have potentially lopped my head off for such a suggestion,¡± Voltar said. ¡°I have no desire to irritate her and risk decapitation.¡±

    I cocked my head to the side. All priests of Zaviel despised the undead, the desecration of bones and souls well after their deserved rest. Still, nothing had indicated that the strangely aged bishop was any kind of threat with a blade.

    ¡°She has a reputation then?¡± I asked.

    ¡°She killed a lich,¡± Dawes said behind me, tone distant. ¡°Before I met Voltar, I was on the campaign in the north, when the Ilte rebelled under Charlie Fawlkes for the second time.¡±

    Charlie Fawlkes, of a dynasty before the current one. I knew the name and about the two rebellions raised in the northern parts of Anglea in the highlands and mountains of Iltenland. The first had been a hard-fought bitter war that ended in a reluctant peace and Fawlkes¡¯ exile. The second had sparked when promises to the Ilte for their help in overthrowing Her Most Profane Majesty turned to dust once the Empress assumed her throne. They¡¯d been receptive to another try when a Prince Charlie in his sixties returned from the mainland for the first time in decades.

    Another long-fought war campaigned across Iltenland again. And the crushing defeat that had led to the execution of the man once known as Shining Prince via cannonball through the stomach. No merciful mistake of exile at that time.

    ¡°Lich?¡± I said. ¡°A third party, or was the Shining Prince not all legend says him to be?¡±

    Dawes smiled thinly. ¡°A lot about that campaign goes unsaid. I¡¯m not sure why the official story excludes it, it¡¯s not as if Her Majesty has ever shown any favorability to Charlie Fawlkes before or after she had him tied in front of that cannon. Whatever idealism that man had the first time around, it was dead by the time of the second rising. Bitterness and desperation, combined with age, I suppose. That was a campaign against mostly undead and old men and women unwilling to put down the old colors. A party of eight ventured to end the Lich himself. Bishop Derrick was the only survivor. In her teens back then, coming out with its decapitated head and a gleaming sword.¡±

    I whistled. ¡°Lucky girl. And powerful too. The skin then, is that from the-?¡±

    Dawes grimaced. ¡°I don¡¯t know. What was left of us when that campaign was over. I try to forget it. Especially coming back from up there. Just because the lich was destroyed, didn¡¯t mean what it raised went with it. I hear occasionally they still find one roaming those old battlefields.¡±

    It sounded like a touchy subject. I wouldn¡¯t pry anymore.

    Voltar pretended to join me in looking over the ritual paper.

    ¡°As for Bishop Gallaspie-¡±

    ¡°I can guess,¡± I said. ¡°Age and attitude alone tell me enough there. Silver spikes?¡±

    The punishment that used to be reserved for any Infernal found outside their city¡¯s Quarter. Delivered by a Priest of Halpsus, a pair of silver spikes through the eyes to capture the soul and prevent it from going to the hells. Supposedly, there were vaults under their main cathedral containing thousands of them.

    ¡°Before you were born,¡± Voltar said. ¡°He was noted as one of their best Diabolist hunters, and quite good at it.¡±

    Fun. Hopefully, he wouldn¡¯t be adding my name to his list of kills.

    ¡°Do you want me to pretend to read the ritual scroll? Before or after we head into the room?¡±

    ¡°After. The Watch will take a while longer to assemble it. Let¡¯s make use of that time, then we can fake our failed ritual.

    The precautions may seem a bit much, but this many religions presenting a united front so soon was troubling outside the personal capabilities of the two Bishops leading this group. The pantheon had been described to me as a big family, which meant a lot of them spent most of their time squabbling and fighting. Some of them were diametrically opposed to each other just because of what they were deities of.

    What might bring them all together was hopefully just a threat against a priest of the pantheon.

    ***

    The key worked, and let us into a small, cozy room set up as a private office. A wooden ornate desk and a comfortable chair were the centerpieces, along with various drawers set around the room, but a few things stood out.

    The first is a metal door firmly locked on this side across from the room, thick and strong and definitely not fitting the soft decor of the rest of the room.

    The second, the floor was ringed with divine sigils forming the wards, at least three rings of the silver and gold little tablet embedded in the ground. Various deity''s symbols glowed in the candlelight, making my eyes hurt, and they¡¯d do more than that to my flesh if I stepped on them. Even still, I didn¡¯t miss the most important part of the room.

    In the brick and mortar fireplace, ashes and burnt pages of paper lay among a dying fire, little embers floating in the air.

    I cursed, trying to not tread on any of the divine wards, but Dawes was already on it, stamping out what was left of the fire. Dawes was shortly behind him, and by the time I reached the fireplace, the flames were out.

    ¡°Someone knew what they were doing,¡± I muttered as I sifted through the ashes and little scraps of paper. Nothing left. There must be some outlet for the smoke, but no one had noticed during the chaos of the attack. It had probably dissipated shortly after.

    ¡°The girl seemed to genuinely be suffering from battle fatigue,¡± Dawes commented. ¡°But I¡¯m not an expert in the workings of the mind.¡±

    ¡°It is possible to both be traumatized and have enough wherewithal to cover up evidence,¡± Voltar noted, continuing to check drawers in the desk. ¡°Hrrm, only one drawer emptied. Interesting. I¡¯ll go through the rest of the desk then. Be careful with the rest of the furniture, I want them to think no one else made it inside for as long as possible.¡±

    Where would I hide things? The floor was always an obvious suspect for things you didn¡¯t mind taking time to remove. Very secure, very easy to disguise as just part of the floor, and depending on where they were, easily upscaled to fit your storage needs.

    This, however, with divine warding all over the floors and leaving such a tight space? Say even moving part of the floor out caused one of them to be jostled even a little, creating a hole through which something might enter or leave?

    No, it wouldn¡¯t be the floor.

    Inside the furniture was probably not a good idea to check either. Any easy to remove panels would either be hidden to the point I¡¯d need to break them to find anything, or too obvious to actually hide anything. The most well-hidden ones also had the issue of taking even longer to get the contents than hidden in the stone floor.

    I turned my attention to the chimney, considering the brickwork.

    ¡°It was a hollowed-out brick you retrieved the key from, right?¡±

    ¡°Hrrm?¡± Voltar turned his attention away from the papers he was going through. ¡°You think they¡¯d hide in a similar place?¡±

    ¡°I think it¡¯s worth checking,¡± I said as I went over to the fireplace.

    Examinations proved my suspicions correct, pulling out a hollowed-out brick. An empty one. The next two were empty as well, but on the third, I found something I definitely did not expect.

    The material was black steel, a circle around an inverted lute. Splatters of dried blood covered most of its surface while the artifact pulsed with a power I knew too well, and one that made my hand burn. I dropped it, holding on by the chain.

    ¡°Shit,¡± I said mildly. ¡°Diabolism focus.¡±

    On a hunch, I reached further inside the brick and pulled out a second one.

    ¡°Diabolism foci,¡± I corrected myself.

    Doctor Dawes had frozen, eyes wide as I dropped the both of them on the ground, far away from any of the divine wards.

    Voltar kneeled down, taking a look at the two of them.

    ¡°Could you move them? Not to be lazy, but poking a diabolic artifact with my unprotected finger seems a bit unwise. Even with a glove perhaps a bit dangerous.¡±

    ¡°It burned me too,¡± I said, eyeing them. ¡°Let me check the astr-Fuck!¡±

    I closed my eyes, that brief bit of burning, incandescent light flooding them with tears. I tumbled backward, someone grabbing me and halting my fall.

    ¡°Miss Harrow, are you alright?¡±

    Dawes. I blinked tears out of my eyes, realizing he¡¯d caught me right before I landed on one of the lines of divine wards.

    ¡°I..yes I¡¯m fine,¡± I said, blinking more tears out of my eyes. ¡°Those are divine in nature, and diabolic. The two types of magic mixed together. That or something close enough it nearly blinded me.¡±

    ¡°Incredibly dangerous,¡± Voltar said, staring down at the pair of amulets.

    I laughed without any humor behind it. ¡°Underselling, Voltar. It¡¯s like putting a lit match and gunpowder right next to each other. One slight mistake and the entire mixture goes up with enough force to kill if you¡¯re lucky. If you¡¯re unlucky, it sprays Diabolic energy right into your face. Divine as well although that¡¯s less dangerous to have run through your body. Just a tad, mind you, it could still harm you quite badly without direction. No, these must be precisely made, or just trying to use them would backfire horribly.¡±

    ¡°What would even be the advantage of it?¡± Dawes asked. ¡°I¡¯m not much of a mage, but these two kinds of magic are opposed, are they not?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re opposed, but that doesn¡¯t mean they are impossible to combine,¡± I said. ¡°As for why to combine them? Maybe it was an experiment? A limiter? Who knows, but those are definitely Diabolism Foci.¡±

    ¡°Why did she leave them?¡± Dawes asked, keeping a safe distance away. Probably the smartest option. ¡°She had time to burn those papers, to remove things from those other hidden places, why leave these?¡±

    I peered down, looking at the amulets, looking careful at the surfaces.

    ¡°They look especially clean,¡± I said and pulled my own out for comparison, displaying it¡¯s weathered surface to the both of them. ¡°And I don¡¯t mean diabolism leaves marks or anything, but more in the sense of physical. Probably haven¡¯t been using their own as long as I have mine, but even in the safest environments, you get some wear and tear. Some diabolists, especially those who make deals for power? They need a focus to cast. Symbol of the deal made, what their power channels through. Without it? Powerless. So a smart precaution is to have two, maybe even three if you can afford it.¡±

    ¡°Ah,¡± Voltar said, straightening up. ¡°I see what you mean. Backups she forgot about?¡±

    ¡°Depending on how long this has been running, it could have been months or even years since they were put there,¡± I said, grabbing the pair by their chains and moving them back into the little hollowed-out brick. ¡°Dawes was right, she seemed genuinely shocked by what occurred, and I don¡¯t think it was an act. She had the wherewithal to burn the most important documents, grab the things she could eaisly remember being there. These however she forgot about and might not remember for a while. You want me to put these back?¡±

    ¡°Not yet. There¡¯s a couple of possibilities,¡± Voltar said as we all looked down at the Foci in the brick. ¡°Priests going over the Hells is not unheard of, and this is as remote a posting as you can manage in the capital. Perfect to practice away from most prying eyes. This chamber, and wherever those stairs lead, would work to hone their craft in secret.¡±

    ¡°Problem,¡± I said, pointing to the lines of divine wards. ¡°These weren¡¯t thrown up quickly, these are forged wards, created by someone probably beyond Father Reginald¡¯s skill, and not by the same craftsmen. The styles change too much, I¡¯m guessing three or four people worked on these. Not cheap to make, not easy to sneak this many away with only a few noticing. Either Tarver¡¯s church is riddled with Diabolic infiltrators, or this had church approval. And not just Tarver¡¯s.¡±

    Some of this symbology I didn¡¯t recognize, and some of it I did as definitely not Tarver. Halspus, Zaviel, and Tildae were the most common, and an occasional one from another deity. One could argue that it was the result of our possibly renegade priests trying to get their hands on any ward they could. However there¡¯d be cheaper ones, ones not as well crafted, defective ones mixed in. No, this was representative of something more.

    ¡°Add in an assortment of priests showing up so suddenly,¡± I said. ¡°Two possibilities.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t be an entire group of rogue priests turned Diabolist,¡± Dawes said, face pale but tone firm. ¡°A horrifying thought but there couldn¡¯t be that many.¡±

    ¡°I agree, but not because I doubt there would be that many priests who might pursue the arts,¡± Voltar said. ¡°Rather that they would be nowhere near as open as they have been about things or as accommodating as they¡¯ve chosen to be. If this is a secret cabal of Diabolists being cracked open, they would not be this bold, they would be going to ground or attempting to flee the city. And that¡¯s assuming they would hold together under central leadership. And I have my doubts about some of those priests being involved, especially Gallaspie.¡±

    I shook my head slightly at that last point. Just because a man liked shoving silver spikes in the heads of Infernal didn¡¯t make him less likely to fall. More likely, depending on the devil to try and tempt him.

    ¡°The other possibility then,¡± I said. ¡°The various religions of the pantheon have decided to support their priests training in Diabolism.¡±

    We all stood in silence, considering the pair of foci below us as my statement settled.

    ¡°We¡¯ll need to tread carefully,¡± Voltar said. ¡°At least until I can talk to my brother. Intelligence needs to hear about this. Which means I will be taking one of these as evidence. Hopefully, we can get confirmation about their mixture of divine and diabolic magic tonight. Miss Harrow, can you take the other?¡±

    ¡°Hrrm?¡± I looked at Voltar curiously. ¡°I can, although why?¡±

    ¡°Because,¡± he said somberly. ¡°I want at least some evidence to survive if they realize we were in here and make a choice on how much they want this protected.¡±

    On that cheerful note, we looked at the last part of the sealed room. I sighed, gripping my own foci tightly.

    ¡°Single file, behind me,¡± I said. ¡°And let''s hope they weren¡¯t trying to summon a devil. If they did, back up the stairs as fast as you can, and we hope the wards hold it back.¡±

    There was a reason corruption could only make approximations of devils. The real things were too powerful to be emulated by the leftover traces of even the most powerful diabolic workings.

    As I took my first step down the dark stairway, I could only hope none lay at the bottom.

 Chapter 5 - Profane V

    The tunnel was a smooth polished stone carved out of the foundations below. It made sense, not a single crack for anything to wriggle in or out of like you might encounter with bricks. Even the metal door had been perfectly fitted, not a millimeter of space for anything to get past it.

    It only added to the eeriness as we descended.

    It was a narrow staircase, and there was not enough space for two people to be abreast. No lights for that reason, hanging or suspending any would mean holes in the walls or ceiling. No space to stand any lights. The only illumination was the pair of lanterns, one I carried in the front, one by Dawes in the back.

    The only sound was our breathing and the tread of boots and hooves on stone. I¡¯d insisted on no talking. The chance of something summoned that fed on our manipulated language was slim, but it was a risk I didn¡¯t want to take.

    The circular staircase continued down, ten, twenty, thirty feet, circling again and again. How had the construction of this been hidden? Had it been done when the church itself was made, or a later addition that somehow went unnoticed?

    Eventually, the stairs stopped, and I eyed the room they deposited us in.

    As someone who¡¯d dealt in quite a few, this was not very impressive for an underground hideout.

    It had been carved out meticulously, a large square maybe twenty paces long and ten across. Most of it was dominated by a large metal table, dried splotches of what was probably blood on it forming a set of patterns I recognized. Runs were engraved along the sides, ones I recognized from even before my time with the Imp. Basic diabolism ritual outlines, given power with blood. Rough metal chairs, and a workbench with a variety of tools on it. Four metal cages, thankfully empty. Big giant glass containers of sealed liquid

    I gripped the focus, eyes open to the arcane as I looked about. They hurt, the riotous mix of divine and diabolic making them tear up.

    Red poured up from the table and inside the cages like blood in the water, while white static lines emerged from the divine wards set at the doorway and aligned along all the walls. Nothing else lurked though, and if it was powerful enough to hide on both the astral and the material planes, we wouldn¡¯t be able to stop it.

    ¡°We¡¯re clear,¡± I said, then looked down at the holy sigils planted into the ground. ¡°Well, you two are. I am going to end up burning a hoof down here, I just know it.¡±

    ¡°Minor exposure hopefully shouldn¡¯t hurt,¡± Voltar said. ¡°What are we looking at here Miss Harrow?¡±

    ¡°Table¡¯s definitely used for rituals,¡± I said, looking over each of the runes carved into it¡¯s side. ¡°They¡¯ve got a few different ritual shapes set up with that dried blood. Guessing that¡¯s part of what those glass containers have. That or this is going to take a very dark turn and the church has been feeding people into this.¡±

    ¡°Hard to imagine all of these churches would sign off on that,¡± Dawes said. ¡°I¡¯ll not say anything about how bloody some of them can get but-¡±

    ¡°I agree Doctor, more like the case than not. What were they primarily doing with the table, Miss Harrow?¡±

    I looked it over with a critical eye. ¡°Small-time summoning it looks like, probably what the cages were for. There are a few other things these can be used to do, but they¡¯d draw more attention than not. Most of them are about reaching far away places, so you could use them for striking at far away foes, or communication, but you¡¯d be worried about Infernal energies leaking out at the destination. Worse, it would leave a trail to be followed, so instead they used them to reach into the Hells and bring minor devils.¡±

    ¡°Imps?¡± Voltar asked while Doctor Dawes examined the dried blood.

    ¡°Multiple applications,¡± the Doctor noted. ¡°Looks like the freshet is maybe a few weeks old at the most. I¡¯d need to examine it in my own lab, but probably not animal.¡±

    ¡°Definitely not animal, and definitely not imps,¡± I said. ¡°We¡¯re already talking about trying to summon from the Hells, blood not from a fresh sacrifice, especially blood freely given like this likely was? Doesn¡¯t give as much power as a live sacrifice or souls. And Imps are fairly powerful-¡±

    As we have every right to be The Imp said in my head, and I scowled at the interruption.

    ¡°They are intelligent, they can speak, they can practice Diabolism, they can fly. Do not let their small stature fool you, they are definitely not the lowest tier of devils. That would be actual animals, devils with no ability to speak, ones that just act on their instincts. Lesser Imps, which are just flying little pests. You can train some of them, and they can be useful sources of reagents. Guessing from the size of the cages, nothing too large. Probably not Hellhounds. This might have just been practice and testing. See if they could tame any diabolic creatures, see how far they could reach. Does raise an interesting question of how they gained the ability to practice in the first place.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t just being an Infernal that could get inherited power, even just a drop of blood in the ancestry could lead to it later down the line. Still, very unlikely. Same for the ability to tap into it naturally. Which left the Deal.

    ¡°How many Devils do you think would make deals with Tarverian priests?¡± Voltar asked me. ¡°In your experience.¡±

    ¡°My experience isn¡¯t much,¡± I admitted. ¡°Tarverian priests¡­.maybe? You¡¯d probably find some Devil of high power mercenary enough to just do a simple trade in return for an offering. Of course, it wouldn¡¯t be much. Actual power via deals typically comes from repeated dealings or major offerings. If we¡¯re assuming this is church sanctioned and slightly moral, the latter option wouldn¡¯t be possible. Not unless someone was comfortable sacrificing souls, because the more powerful Devils would demand that.¡±

    The more powerful ones I dealt with anyway. It was entirely possible other ways of paying them would work, but I doubted they¡¯d be accommodating to priests.

    ¡°For now, we assume it¡¯s a deal,¡± Voltar said. ¡°Until we have more of the details on this. The tools?¡±

    I took a look over them. ¡°Tools for harvesting reagents. In the Flame, we used modified farming tools, these look purpose-built. Did you find anything in Father Reginald¡¯s desk by the way?¡±

    ¡°Not anything worth noting. The man¡¯s personal life didn¡¯t seem germane and the rest was storage for financial information, correspondence about the people here to the church and trying to drive up worship. Nothing germane yet. As much as it pains me to say it, we should probably leave no. We have a necromatic ritual to fake before they get suspicious, and also we should leave as little trace as possible for when they come here tomorrow.¡±

    ***

    One faked necromantic ritual later, I was ready to head home, only for a fresh complication to arise.

    "You must be kidding me,¡± I said, looking out from the second-story window. ¡°What does he want?¡±

    Gregory Montague was standing outside the door, maybe ten feet away, stamping his feet to try and keep warm. How long had he been out there?

    ¡°If I had to guess,¡± Voltar said next to me. ¡°He wants to try and come to some kind of accord with you. Something where our joint investigation into this case goes peacefully.¡±

    ¡°Joint investigation,¡± I repeated. ¡°With the church-approved pack of Diabolists?¡±

    Voltar chuckled. ¡°Miss Harrow, do you have some kind of moral compunction against working alongside Diabolists? Of which there may only be two?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± I snapped. ¡°I have a compunction against working alongside someone who thinks me a monster!¡±

    Voltar raised an eyebrow. ¡°Really? You worked with Captain Malstein well enough. And you can at least cooperate with Captain Walston and Tagashin without issue.¡±

    ¡°That is different,¡± I muttered angrily as I turned my attention back to the waiting figure of Montague. It was dark but he could probably tell it was me up here. Horns made that unavoidable.

    ¡°Yes. You didn¡¯t care about their opinions, so when they expressed those opinions you dismissed them as not worth it and focused on just getting the job then. You ultimately don¡¯t care about what any of them thought about you.¡±

    I scowled, glaring at the serene detective. ¡°What did I say earlier about commenting on my personal life Voltar?¡±

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t say anything,¡± he replied with infuriating calmness. ¡°You simply let the conversation lead to me and Dawes disagreeing and we went to interview Father Reginald¡¯s traumatized assistant. Besides, what I said earlier applies to you as much as him. Refusal to work together is not something any of us can tolerate while on this case.¡±

    I grunted. ¡°You being right does not make me enthusiastic about this.¡±

    ¡°We are often called upon to do things-¡±

    I didn¡¯t bother listening to the rest, already clopping to the nearest stairs. I might as well. The shortest path to the carriage was this way, and I was spending as little time in the cold as possible.

    I stormed outside into the falling snow, and Gregory hesitated. The expression on my face probably had something to do with that.

    ¡°Miss Harrow,¡± he said warily. ¡°Is now a good time to talk?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not,¡± I replied bluntly. ¡°It¡¯s late, it¡¯s cold, and I want to be home in bed, but I¡¯ve been stuck here helping a foolish endeavor till now and don¡¯t particularly want to be involved in a second one right now, thank you. Say your piece, please?¡±

    He bristled at that, but I was hardly lying. It was damn cold out, even through my jacket, and standing out in it for too long would risk chills I did not want.

    "I was told that letting tension exist between us is not the best when there''s a case to be solved," he started, and I snorted.

    "I see little way of getting rid of it," I said. "As long as you are willing to talk, that will suffice. Now, as I said, I am very tired -"

    ¡°What did take you all so long inside there, anyway?¡± He asked me, tone innocently curious in a matter that absolutely had to be faked.

    Which lie to go with? Tell him it was none of his business or offer a life as an olive branch. To hells with all of this.

    ¡°Voltar had me fetch a ritual circle from his house for the purpose of trying to have a little chat with Father Reginald¡¯s soul,¡± I deadpanned. ¡°It did not go well.¡±

    Gregory¡¯s eyes widened as he stared at the window Voltar still stood in. ¡°Why would he even begin to think that would work? Father Reginald is a devout follower and cleric of Tarver, his soul-¡±

    ¡°Has two claims,¡± I interrupted. ¡°Or so Voltar figures. One from Tarver, one from the Hells. Mind you, trying to conjure a soul being fought over by those two is insanity itself, matching his general ideas on everything.¡±

    Gregory shook his head slightly. ¡°He told you to talk to me, didn¡¯t he?¡±

    ¡°Do not engage me in banter,¡± I snapped. ¡°Right now, handling this is keeping me from a warm, comfortable bed. Now, on the attempted necromancy, it failed. If you want to inform Bishop Derrick, you are welcome although Father Reginald¡¯s soul was not harmed in the slightest.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think that will assuage her mind about Voltar performing necromancy,¡± Gregory said, crossing his arms. ¡°I won¡¯t question why he has such devices, or where he got permission to utilize them, but this is a trend of very concerning behavior from him, stretching all the way back to the shape-changer incident.¡±

    Ah. Right. No one had ever bothered to tell him about Tagashin and how Voltar¡¯s more erratic behavior of the time was simply the Kitsune¡¯s less-than-stellar impersonation of him. Both Tagashin and Voltar were lucky that Kitsune Glamours was so good at making people not question things. They¡¯d simply thought the detective had turned into a mischievous, tactless prankster for a few weeks.

    ¡°It¡¯s an interesting assortment of characters you¡¯ve come to associate yourself with, Montague,¡± I commented. ¡°Us, and now this gaggle of priests of other deities, some of which have the most interesting pasts, from what Mister Voltar and Doctor Dawes have told me.¡±

    His eyes narrowed. ¡°Really? Such as?¡±

    ¡°One cut the head off a lich, for which I can¡¯t really disagree,¡± I replied. ¡°The one who used to shove silver spikes in my people¡¯s eyes? That one is interesting.¡±

    His lips thinned, his eyes tightened. ¡°He¡¯s not who I would have picked for this. Nor many of the others, but sometimes we are stuck working with people we would prefer not to, for various reasons.¡±

    ¡°Like me,¡± I said.

    He sighed. ¡°Yes, to be frank. Malvia, can I ask you a question?¡±

    Oh, joy. The fact he felt the need to ask if he could even ask one didn¡¯t promise anything pleasant for what the question would be.

    ¡°If it irritates me too much, I¡¯ll just walk past,¡± I said. ¡°There¡¯s nothing really holding me here.¡±

    ¡°What would it take for you to do what was done to poor Father Reginald?¡±

    Ah. That. ¡°I assume you don¡¯t mean the level of power and technique to achieve such an effect?¡±

    Gregory scowled. ¡°Of course not.¡±

    ¡°Well, I could say no, but I¡¯m rather inclined to think you wouldn¡¯t believe me,¡± I said harshly. ¡°Have I killed people in slow painful ways in the past? Yes. Would I do it now? I¡¯d say leaving Lady Karsin to the tender mercies of those three drakes wasn¡¯t a swift and painless end, but most would probably judge me less harshly than if I¡¯d ripped that life core right out of her chest.¡±

    He was silent for a few moments. ¡°I¡¯m not sure what to believe. What some of your colleagues have said, what I¡¯ve read you had a hand in, it¡¯s not something I can condone.¡±

    ¡°What I¡¯ve done,¡± I said. ¡°Is entirely my business, but considering the people you live with or are currently working with, I think you can entirely condone it.¡±

    ¡°My father and some of my colleagues on this,¡± Gregory said drily. ¡°No offense, but do you want to be grouped in with them.¡±

    My nails pressed against my palms again but I forced myself to breathe.

    ¡°This¡­this isn¡¯t productive,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ve been forced into this, and we aren¡¯t¡­.we can discuss this some other time. Tomorrow, Mister Montague.¡±

    Not attaching ¡®Lord¡¯ to his name was the biggest peace offering I was willing to give. From his silence, as I made my way to the carriage, I assumed it had to be.

    ***

    By the time the carriage reached my house, the temperature had plummeted as the night came. The fall of snow had only gotten worse, blanketing everything in a sheet of white higher than my knees now, nearly to my waist.

    I got off, with a few more coins for the shivering driver, who was so swaddled in blankets and peppered with snow it was hard to tell if it was a person or a bundle of rags driving the carriage.

    After that I struggled to walk to my front door, pushing through the massive amount of snow. What the Hells was being done that this much was allowed to land? Had the City Mages failed in their duties? Is someone demanding a load of freshwater? Or was this just the reaction of the skies to Her Majesty demanding more days when the weather¡¯s normal patterns were forcibly altered to her preferences?

    Either way, everything below my waist felt chilled by the time I stumbled out of the door. Hells, just getting free of it immediately made me feel warmer as I stumbled up the steps.

    Despite the overwhelming need to get inside my store and home, some semblance of common sense counteracted the overwhelming need to immediately get inside.

    I checked my door at about knee-level critically. The little hair I¡¯d stuck across the gap was unbroken. The arcane locks hadn¡¯t shown any sign of tampering. Still, something felt off as I touched my door handle.

    Glancing down, I realized what it was.

    Sighing, I retrieved the piece of parchment shoved deep into the gap between my door and the floor. There had been maybe a half inch of it visible, and that sigh only deepened as I brought my lantern up.

    Black flaming goat head. Hells, there was no relief tonight, was there?

    I could read it inside, where I could get a fire going and actually be warm. The chill bite of the wind hadn¡¯t sunk into my bones quite yet.

    The door opened with a jangle, and just as swiftly I shut it, locking it tightly. I hurried to the stove behind the counter, put wood in, and then lit the lot of it on fire. Cheap little thing, it would take time to fully heat up my store. Even with Intelligence¡¯s money, there were limits to what one could afford, and instead appeared to be far more well-off than the rest of the neighborhood.

    Hells, everyone thought I was probably being financed by Black Flame money already. I¡¯d been tempted to change my face permanently after the Shapeshifter incident, but I¡¯d decided to continue wearing it. Maybe I was just afraid if I put it away again, I¡¯d forget it entirely.

    While I waited for the stove¡¯s heat to fill the room, I read the letter by lantern light.

    Dearest Sister,

    As I found you to still be missing when I visited this afternoon, I have instead decided to leave this letter to perhaps rouse your curiosity. What whispers come to me from Holmsteader¡¯s territory indicate a truly surprising number of disappearances and not ones that can be dismissed as people leaving. Families disappearing in the dead of night, not to be seen again.

    All the victims are of the kind that most wouldn¡¯t notice missing. Those who still live the worst off of us, the ones who still feel the yoke of Imperial repression the most. It is unfortunate that we are not still in the times when something may have been done about this. I will be sending my own people if needs demand I must, but I would prefer to instead have someone Holmsteader might see as less of my person go to investigate.

    I realize relations between us are strained, and some of this is my fault, but I hope you will not let that weigh on this. The people need your help Malvia, in order to be kept safe. You should not just reserve that for those who prize you as a tool above everything else.

    Stay in good health,

    You brother,

    Giovanni Versalicci

    I sighed, considering throwing the letter in the fire. Self-aggrandizement aside, he was clearly talking about disappearance among what were considered the lowest still in the Quarter. Their lives lasted longer than they had in the past. Enough now to notice when they were disapearing.

    My fingers crumpled the parchment up as a thought struck me. Diabolists. Well, one who clearly had a lot of power was on the loose, and one way to bargain for more power with Devils was always souls. Crap, this was worse than I thought. This was something worth looking into, although the Quarter was hardly the only place you could abduct the poor and destitute and not have it be noticed.

    Something to raise with the others, but saying to come to the Quarter first¡­part of my balked at that. The Watch had changed, others had said, and some of the officers and beat coppers I¡¯d encountered had shown that, true. But the ones who used to cut my fingers off? The ones who would drag anyone caught outside the Quarter to Halspus¡¯ temples for spikes of silver delivered to their eyes? They were still there. Just not in places I encountered them as much anymore. Hells, Intelligence probably helped ensure that didn¡¯t happen so I would keep on being useful.

    How long till that ended? I might hate my brother¡¯s guts, but that didn¡¯t make him wrong in all things.

    Sighing, I put the letter inside my coat pocket. The warmth of the stove was reaching my bones now, warming them. This was something to handle, but not tonight. Heading out now might not be of much help, not with me tired and wanting a bed. Besides, darkness might benefit the Diabolist more than me. Unlike a lot of Infernals, I couldn¡¯t see in the dark.

    Daylight. When that arrived, I¡¯d go take a look at Holmsteader¡¯s territory, see what I could find out. But first a night in some sheets, letting the aches and pains of the day bleed out of me.

    Something creaked behind me.

    I turned around, one hand reaching inside my coat for my revolver, the other for my knife. No Diabolism till I knew who it was, and-

    Too later, I could feel the cold metal of a gun¡¯s muzzle pressed beneath my shin, skin prickling as they pressed inwards.

    "Not. A. Move.¡± A voice barked, one I knew.

    I knew the face below mine, awkward as the angle was with both of the shotgun¡¯s barrels pressed firmly against the underside of my chin. Slightly oblong eyes, two scars over the lips, freckles lightly dusting across the nose while scales formed a pattern along her chin.

    I sighed. No comfortable sleep tonight. Potentially no more sleep at all.

    ¡°Hi Alice.¡±

 Chapter 6 - Whisper I

    I didn¡¯t move, despite every instinct telling me to.

    The cold metal pressed against the bottom of my chin precluded any attempts to run. The slightest wrong twitch could have the wielder pull the triggers. Magic or not, there was little surviving a full load of buckshot turning my brain into scraps of flesh.

    And in the hands of someone I knew to be twitchy enough to be quick on the trigger and interpret any movement as a reason to pull the trigger.

    Alice Skall hadn¡¯t changed much since I¡¯d last seen her. Red hair and red skin, horns low and lowered like a bull¡¯s. Two scars across her upper lip, a new one running along her right cheek. All softness in her face, opposite of my harsh angles, but she made it look intimidating, even though I remembered teasing that into giddy-

    Do not let feelings intrude on this. Those had been buried long ago, messily, and all that digging them up now would lead to miscalculations. Don¡¯t let sentiment take over when sentiment has a shotgun pressed against your forehead..

    ¡°Alice,¡± I said quietly. ¡°You¡¯re alive. Wish I could say that was a pleasant surprise.¡±

    ¡°That feeling¡¯s mutual,¡± she whispered harshly behind me. ¡°No one from old days truly stays dead do they?¡±

    I snorted, unable to contain that brief burst of amusement at a sentiment I¡¯d expressed earlier today. ¡°Golvar¡¯s dead. My half-siblings, outside Versalicci. That¡¯s about all I can speak to.¡±

    ¡°Shut up,¡± she snapped, voice raw. ¡°We¡¯re going upstairs, and if you even look for a second like you¡¯re going for some trap to blow the both of us up, I¡¯m pulling the triggers and you can try speaking out your windpipe.¡±

    I eyed the stairs, then looked pointedly down at the barrel of the shotgun. It wasn¡¯t a new one, weathered but well-maintained and still capable of turning the inside of my head to mush. Alice snorted.

    ¡°Give me a spin,¡± she drawled tauntingly, pulling the shotgun back a little. ¡°For old times sakes?¡±

    She hadn¡¯t pulled it back enough for me to dodge, but I was hardly going to twirl for her. I moved stiffly around, till suddenly the muzzle of the shotgun prodded the back of my head.

    ¡°Far enough. Up the stairs. We¡¯re finding a table for us to have a little chat.¡±

    There wasn¡¯t much upstairs. I had a single bedroom, a reading room with books, and then a final room where I prepared and ate my meals. We ended up in the third, Alice guiding me into a chair before tossing a metal set of cuffs down on the table in front of me.

    ¡°Are you serious?¡± I asked, eyeing the handcuffs. She snorted.

    ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s not going that way. Call them some extra insurance in case me having a shotgun leveled at your head isn¡¯t enough. Now, unless you do want some buckshot there, handcuffs on.¡±

    This was a problem. Sure, if the worst came to it, I could still cast in handcuffs, but restricting my movement meant even less chance of surviving the exchange.

    Then again, that would mean dodging a shotgun blast. This had been decided the moment I didn¡¯t notice her in my store, now only talking would save me. I attached both the cuffs to my hands, letting them click into position, eyes on the shotgun¡¯s muzzle.

    It didn¡¯t waver once.

    ¡°You been real naughty since I last saw you Malvia,¡± she whispered. ¡°First you let me think you died, then you borrow my name and get it involved in some very serious crimes.¡±

    ¡°Could you please not use that terminology?¡± I said as she leaned in closer. ¡°Unless you want bite marks all over you by the end of tonight?¡±

    ¡°Promises, promises,¡± she chuckled. ¡°No, not that kind of night.¡±

    ¡°Then drop the language,¡± I said bluntly. ¡°Besides, you faked your death first, so you do not get to pass judgment on me for doing the same.¡±

    Hells, mine at least had been something a little mundane, a collapsing tunnel on a corpse I¡¯d biosculpted to look like me. She¡¯d gone out with an explosion large enough it had turned a street corner to rubble. She¡¯d gotten the Watch to chase her first, all the way into the edge of the Quarter before blowing herself up along with them. One final act of defiance.

    Or so I¡¯d thought at the time, and had wondered if certain actions on my part had led to it. Well, here was confirmation they hadn¡¯t, and now that was worming in my gut, making me angry.

    ¡°You wanna say I should have told you?¡± Alice sneered. ¡°You made it pretty clear beforehand what we were to each other. But you are right. Let¡¯s not talk about the past too much. The hells are you dragging my name through the mud for? I¡¯m not using it much these days, but I don¡¯t appreciate it regardless. You never know when some fucker is gonna start digging through the past.¡±

    Right. That. Damnations Tagashin, thank you for putting me in this situation with your improvisations.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t involve your name in this,¡± I replied. ¡°Someone else did because they¡¯d rather I work with them than get executed for crimes I didn¡¯t commit. How much did you read in the papers?¡±

    ¡°Oh, enough to get angry. And after¡­shapechangers. Seems like a chaotic mess I didn¡¯t want to stick my hand into. But if you didn¡¯t involve my name, who did?¡±

    Alice seemed contemplative, and the temptation to blurt out the truth was there. However, ¡®A kitsune impersonating Voltar said it was you so she could later have me enter the case as her assistant, oh and I also didn¡¯t know it wasn¡¯t Voltar¡¯ did not seem a believable tale.

    ¡°It¡¯s complicated and tied up with the entire mess,¡± I admitted. ¡°The person ultimately responsible¡­well, aiming you at her I think wouldn¡¯t do anyone any favors. She didn¡¯t mean any harm by it.¡±

    I thought so, although with Tagashin one could never be entirely sure. The possibility always existed that she had known, although I couldn¡¯t begin to guess how.

    "Not throwing me a name?¡± Alice said. ¡°Not a wise move, and not like you.¡±

    ¡°A wise move when one knows how dangerous that name is,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll name it if it means not dying. But I wouldn¡¯t recommend going against her.¡±

    Alice laughed. ¡°I¡¯m a better judge of that than you, I think.¡±

    ¡°You say that, but I remember having to drag you out of the Hells¡¯ Own when you wanted to burn it down and Edwards started tanning you-¡±

    Click went the flintlock of the shotgun. Shut went my mouth with a similar clack.

    Eat her, The Imp muttered in my head.

    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    I¡­.such wise and sage advice. I was handcuffed, and the moment I tried to move I¡¯d probably get shot.

    Either do that or the other thing if you must, The Imp continued. I can hardly do anything from in here.

    What was the ¡®other thing¡¯? Fight her? Kiss her? Stupid little devil!

    ¡°You look like you want to strangle that table,¡± Alice told me.

    ¡°Dealing with the third party in all of this,¡± I replied. ¡°They are being particularly unhelpful about all of this.¡±

    She snorted. ¡°Still got the imp in your head I see. Those methods you were working on not pan out?¡±

    ¡°They did,¡± I replied. ¡°I silenced it, made it sleep, although the process nearly killed me. But then life gave me a choice between dying and biting a throat out, so it¡¯s awake again.¡±

    ¡°Life¡¯s got a strange way of making sure you only got a choice between death and things like that,¡± Alice replied. ¡°And you haven¡¯t put it asleep again why?¡±

    ¡°Promises,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s quite a helpful little helper as long as you keep it fed.¡±

    Her eyes widened, and then she chuckled. ¡°Oh, you finally give up on that insistence you were abov-¡±

    ¡°Cows,¡± I corrected harshly. ¡°And pigs. And other foods. Not people.¡±

    Her lips quirked. ¡°Stubborn about that, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    You have no idea, The Imp said inside my head.

    I sighed.

    ¡°Moved up in the world,¡± she noted. ¡°You got a new leash. New collar too. Imperial Government agent Malvia Harrow. You¡¯ve moved down in the world from what I last saw.¡±

    I scoffed. ¡°Because having Versalicci¡¯s around my neck was so much better. I¡¯ll take the one that keeps me alive for now and isn¡¯t going to kill me.¡±

    ¡°And it doesn¡¯t chafe?¡±

    ¡°Of course it chafes,¡± I snarled, not caring if anyone was listening. If they were, they should have interfered by now. ¡°It was either this or finding my head on the chopping block, or that falling blade device they claim is more humane. Penalty for the practice of Diabolism is death, Alice, back when we started this, and probably by the time my life burns out.¡±

    ¡°You started,¡± she said quietly. ¡°I wasn¡¯t given much of a choice in the matter, if you could recall.¡±

    ¡°I can recall, and it was more than I was given,¡± I said back. ¡°More than I was given in this case too. I was free, no diabolism, no Black Flame, only to be dragged into someone else¡¯s schemes and dealing with Versalicci again.¡±

    ¡°Simple solution to that you refused to take. Why are you even still in this city, Malvia?¡± Alice said. ¡°Why not run away, make it as far as you could out of here? It¡¯s what I did, and it took you dragging my name into this mess to draw me back.¡±

    I didn¡¯t respond. There was a simple reason, that being this was the only place with the resources within my reach that might finally wake up my mother. But there was only one person who knew about her in the Black Flame, and whoever my brother had chosen to share that information with, it hadn¡¯t included her.

    It hadn¡¯t been the only secret kept from here.

    She left the silence drag out a little while longer, then snorted. ¡°Alright, keep your secrets. Ain¡¯t like it¡¯s the only one I found out you''ve been hiding. You ever going to tell me that you were Versalicci¡¯s sister, Malvia?¡±

    Only one place she could have found that out. Nice to have the confirmation.

    ¡°You want to talk to me about leashes and collars?¡± I shot back, not answering the question. ¡°Seems like you¡¯ve put one back on yourself.¡±

    She laughed, a short harsh bark.

    ¡°Someone telling me what¡¯s been going on in the city isn¡¯t getting me back under their command. I came for a few pieces of business, then I¡¯m back out of here. I would like to be out of this country if I can manage it. But for now, I¡¯m not leaving till I get some debts settled. Yours on top of that list.¡±

    I sighed, closing my eyes. If she decided it would be blood¡­.one of my fingernails twitched, a little splatter of black ink falling onto the floorboards. It disappeared after a second, but it would travel to one of my stocks. Now, wyrmfire wasn¡¯t intended to explode after you treated it, but given a spark it would happily ignite.

    The trick was a little one I¡¯d been practicing with the Imp, controlling Infernal energies after they¡¯d left. I¡¯d always been able to produce them like I had when finding the shape-changer''s secret warehouse room. But controlling them after their release had been the focus of many practice attempts in my shop¡¯s basement.

    I had little control over it, but enough that I could make it burst into hellfire, and that would trigger the wyrmfire stocks.

    Alice walked around the table, ending up behind me. I craned my neck trying to keep an eye on her.

    ¡°And how are going to settle that one?¡± I asked her.

    ¡°Still deciding,¡± she said. ¡°Got a little whisper in my ear on the way in that¡¯s tempting me first. Lots of other debts to look into as well. But well, even if I do believe you, can¡¯t exactly leave you to tell others I¡¯m back in town, can I?¡±

    ¡°Others are watching,¡± I said quickly. ¡°Intelligence will have at least one person keeping tabs. Maybe they don¡¯t want to tangle with a Diabolist, but they¡¯ll definitely notice you¡¯re here, and that ends with you as suspect number one for the murder.¡±

    Her expression faltered, just a brief second of wavering before it reformed. ¡°Murder? I just got into the city.¡±

    ¡°Unless it was later today, it still leaves you as a suspect,¡± I said. ¡°There was a murder early this morning. A Tarverian priest in his church, half-transformed into a devil, most of his congregation destroyed. Very nasty piece of Diabolism. And all of a sudden, here you are. Convenient, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    She scowled, pressing the shotgun¡¯s barrel against the back of my head, forcing it down til my horns were touching the table¡¯s surface. ¡°You¡¯re lying.¡±

    I chuckled. ¡°I am not. If it¡¯s not in the papers now, it will be by tomorrow. It makes your arrival right now very interesting. How long after Versalicci brought me to your attention did you come here? Almost immediately?¡±

    The pressure on the back of my skull vanished. Alice was silent, and I held my tongue for now. Alice¡­.we¡¯d shared a bed, and a rooftop, and other places. We¡¯d told each other things we¡¯d never told anyone else but it had never been a strong bond. Always some things we kept close to our chests, some of which she¡¯d found out about now, and I knew she¡¯d hidden some of the same from me. We¡¯d drifted apart, partially because even after months, I still feared what she might do. After that first night of her recruitment, she¡¯d lived up to that reputation of the crazy one from the docks, Skall the Slitter. Even now, years later?

    I didn¡¯t know what she would do.

    ¡°It¡¯s a very convenient story,¡± she whispered in my ear, one of her hands settling on my shoulder.

    I tensed up. She could still be holding the shotgun. However, a one-handed grip would be weaker. I didn¡¯t dare turn around to see though. No provoking. I tightened a finger, the wisps of Diabolism I¡¯d sent down having wormed their way to my stocks. Just a thought and they would explode.

    ¡°Of course it¡¯s convenient,¡± I said. ¡°Hangs together on all the existing pieces nicely. Perfectly puts the blame on Versalicci for all your troubles and takes them off of me. However, was what Versalicci sold you any different? Either to tempt you here or once you got here?¡±

    She was silent again, and then the whisper resumed. ¡°I suppose you¡¯re right. It might be best to get the lay of the land first.¡±

    Her arm was suddenly around my neck, and I could feel her grip tightening. I forced myself to stay calm though, to not trigger the explosives. I was going to live.

    ***

    When I woke up, my throat burned as I gasped for air.

    I was in bed, covers on top, my room dark except for what little of the moon¡¯s light could get through the evening cloud cover. I thrashed about some, gulping down sweet-tasting mouthfuls of air as the burning in my lungs lessened. My legs could move, but I could move my arms, tightly bound around my torso.

    I coughed, my breathing pained and labored as I saw spots and felt a buzzing in my ears. I¡¯d need a healing potion to make sure Alice hadn¡¯t caused any damage with that chokehold. Assuming I could get out. I kicked the covers up just enough to see what restrained me. A straitjacket? We¡¯d used them after the Black Flame had broken one of Versalicci¡¯s human allies out of an insane asylum she probably should have been left it, and well not just for restraining prisoners all the-

    I cut that line of thought off. Now was not the time to reminisce. There were ways out of this, but most of them relied on being awake when you were strapped in. Okay, were my legs bound? Some experimental kicks proved they weren¡¯t, so I started trying to awkwardly get out of bed. There should be a corner or an edge I could use to start cutting myself out of this. There had to be. Worse case, I set it alight on the stove and hoped a quick potion would heal the worse burns.

    I got out of my bed, and after hitting the floor with a rough thud eventually got my hooves back underneath me. Alice had left the doors open. Good. I headed downstairs.

    So, this wasn¡¯t ideal. At the same time, a murderous Diabolist had killed a priest who himself was a practicing Diabolist, who should waltz back into my life but Alice Skall, who should be dead. The chances of those two things being connected? I couldn¡¯t see Alice befriending a priest, but Alice showing up right now? That couldn¡¯t be dismissed. And given who had brought her in here?

    I looked outside the front window of my shop as the stove continued burning. It was dark out, but I¡¯d woken up feeling refreshed. Early morning? She¡¯d left the front door unlocked, but at least she¡¯d shut it.

    So, Versalicci had brought her here? It may be time to look into whatever scheme my half-brother wanted to involve me in. Because either he¡¯d brought a killer to the city, or a patsy, but either way he was up to his eyebrows in this, and had tried to drag me into this plan of his.

    Time to find out what the plan was. Then figure out how to wreck it.

 Chapter 7 - Whisper II

    It was in fact two in the morning when I¡¯d broken free of the straitjacket Alice had left me bound in.

    Another half hour to get ready, collecting various tricks of the trade from my stocks. No Diabolism tonight if I could help it. With a Diabolic murderer on the loose, spreading that magic around would only draw the wrong kind of attention. I already tap-danced with a noose around my neck, no need to do it in the rain as well.

    Holmsteader¡¯s turf was close, a stretch of the outskirts of the Quarter once called The Hangman¡¯s Place for some cursed corpse of a long-ago pretender to the throne swinging from a gibbet, right in the middle of three intersecting roads.

    The corpse and gibbet were still there, the curses on both still holding strong and cursing anyone who tried to take down the gibbet to a slow, choking death of asphyxiation. But these days, they were just another thing for people to gawk at in the only safe place for outsiders in the Quarter, Glee Street.

    I could hear the raucous racket already, drunken outsiders stumbling about. Those who had come for a late night in casinos, bars, or the more illicit places underneath. Nothing near as fancy as outside the Quarter, but little things offered the taboo thrill like pursuing your pleasures inside the lair of the dread Infernals.

    I was staying well away from it. I¡¯d never met Holmsteader, and from all I knew, she wouldn¡¯t appreciate me setting a single hoof inside her little kingdom. Instead, I lurked on the outskirts, away from her demesne, idly walking the wrecked warehouses on the outside.

    Holmsteader had risen up in the aftermath of Understreet, a low-level street gang leader untainted by the mess my brother had made of the Quarter. She was cut from a more cautious cloth than my half-brother, having to rise up immediately following the Imperial Army campaign to dig him out of the underground.

    The fact he was permitted to be still alive after they¡¯d detonated enough explosives to wreck an entire underground neighborhood trying to kill him was one of the least mystifying things about that whole affair, sadly. The Scar itself still was uninhabited, and would be til someone footed the bill to clean up the mess of an entire block collapsing into an exploding cavern poisoned by the fallout of a half-dozen types of magic, Diabolism chief among them.

    Something launched into the air, exploding into a display of light and noise. More joined it, the noise deafening. I ignored them, outside of some irritation as the noise crowded out all the others I could hear. I put a little more distance between myself and Glee Street.

    After, when no one knew if Versalicci was alive, there had been a score of attempts to fill in the void left by the Black Flame. All of them had been done far too early, back when the Imperial Army still occupied the quarter. Draconian would imply some level of mercy for any gang that caused them offense. More might have died in those months after the Black Flame¡¯s defeat, simply strung up and left to rot as a warning to the rest.

    The fact that most of Versalicci¡¯s successors kept on trying to reuse his populist ideas and started out targeting the army might have had a hand in those responses.

    Holmsteader had been smarter, waiting for the initial backlash to die down, for time to ease the wounds of dead comrades lost to Infernals. When she came it wasn¡¯t to rob and steal. It was to bring services.

    Soldiers liked their vices after all, and being billeted in the Quarter meant no easy access to them. They¡¯d learned early on in their campaign to eliminate the Flame that even if the majority of people begging for money or food, or offering something in trade, were completely genuine, some would always be Flame with a knife or a bomb.

    Once she¡¯d gotten across that wasn¡¯t going to happen, Holmsteader had made quite the fortune for herself servicing the army¡¯s needs, illicit or not. And after? She just started serving those who ventured just a little bit into the Quarter for some fun and danger.

    I paused in my walk, in a small alley between two abandoned warehouses. Both of them sounded abandoned, and nothing burned inside either. I could smell smoke, and that would mean a fire helping keep someone alive through the chill winter night. Required if you were going to live in one of these derelicts.

    However, I couldn¡¯t tell where it was coming from.

    Honestly coming here during the day might have been the better move, scoping out the lay of the land in preparation, but daytime would mean being noticed for certain. Holmsteader wouldn¡¯t care about me no longer being part of the Flame. What she would care about is disruptions that could affect her business. People came for the thrill, seeking vice in the dangerous Infernal Quarter while knowing they wouldn¡¯t actually come to any real harm on Glee Street and the surrounding neighborhoods.

    Do anything that might imply actual danger to her customers, and that would mean a harm to Holmsteader¡¯s bottom line. That she wouldn¡¯t abide.

    Not that her people wouldn¡¯t be out at night, but with Glee Street¡¯s nightlife they¡¯d be busy fleecing tourists and making sure no one got too hurt during their adventures in the Quarter. Some would be on the rooftops, keeping an eye out for trouble venturing towards Glee Street, but as long as I kept my distance, I should be fine.

    Getting to the top, my lack of dark vision meant that I couldn¡¯t quite tell if that was a very stealthy sentry four more warehouses closer to Glee Street, or just a wider-than-normal chimney. I needed to sit down with each eye for a fortnight and work on improving their night vision. But I did spot what I needed.

    A warehouse on the very edge of the territory had a small plume of smoke going up through a fallen-in section of the roof. A good place to start, far enough out from Glee Street that Holmsteader wouldn¡¯t pay attention, while still inside so no one neighboring would pay too much attention.

    Back down to the street, and down to the warehouse. It wasn¡¯t in great shape, but better than many of its fellows. All four walls were still standing, and someone had installed an improvised, crooked door over the big hole in one of them.

    I could hear a pair talking in there, an older man and woman. Currently wondering when the rest of their group will be getting back from work with any food.

    I knocked thrice on that door, before calling out. ¡°Evening, I¡¯d like to have a chat with whoever lives inside here?¡±

    Silence, then movement inside, boots on the ground.

    ¡°What about?¡± A harsh voice yelled from inside.

    ¡°Information,¡± I replied. ¡°I¡¯ve got coin in here to pay for it in return.¡±

    More silence, and then the voice spoke up again.

    ¡°What¡¯s my guarantee you ain¡¯t trying to break in here to rob me?¡±

    I eyed the shoddy door in from of me. It held the chill air back. That¡¯s probably all it held back.

    ¡°That I¡¯m not already breaking the door down?¡± I replied. ¡°I could probably have this thing toppled just using my hoof.¡±

    Another silence, then in an irate tone ¡°Well, you don¡¯t have to be so blunt about it. Ain¡¯t no lock, come on in.¡±

    I opened the door, stepping inside the ruined warehouse. A middle-aged tiefling woman with teal skin, wearing ragged clothing and a potato sack on her head, sat in the middle, tending to a fire. The wood being burnt was fresh and brand new, unlike the remnants of long destroyed crates scattered about, behind which someone was currently lurking.

    I drew my revolver from within my coat, keeping it pointed down for now.

    ¡°While I appreciate that you feel safer with a little trump card up your sleeve while I¡¯m in your abode,¡± I said, gesturing towards the crates. ¡°I appreciate not having hidden ambushers in the same room as me, thank you.¡±

    A ragged middle-aged Infernal grunted, straightening up from behind those half-destroyed crates. Someone had taken a hacksaw to his horns leaving uneven stumps on the front of his head.

    ¡°Alright,¡± the woman by the fire said irritably. ¡°You¡¯ve proven you can probably whip the both of us without issue. You gonna try taking what little we got, or leave us alone?¡±

    ¡°Neither,¡± I answered, keeping an eye on the man as he didn¡¯t move closer to the fire, hand still gripping that sharp little dagger. ¡°I just want to talk about a few things. Got word that people have been disappearing from along the outskirts of Glee Street, people that most wouldn¡¯t think twice about.¡±

    The two were silent for a bit, then the woman spoke up. ¡°You don¡¯t look the kind that would be thinking twice about it.¡±

    ¡°Someone¡¯s leaning on me,¡± I admitted. ¡°Disappearances have got people showing interest. They want it found out, and fast.¡±

    The woman eyed me suspiciously. ¡°You ain¡¯t with Holmsteader, and there¡¯s only one Infernal in the quarter that I¡¯ve heard looking like you. I ain''t being truck with no attempt by Versalicci to expand in here, Holmsteader will nail me up by my horns to my house.¡±

    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    This deserted warehouse being a house was a generous description. And I should have done some kind of disguise, but in all honesty, getting Holmsteader mad at Versalicci wasn¡¯t an outcome I hated. And unfortunately, pretending to still be Black Flame would make these two more talkative than saying I worked with Voltar. Or worse, the Imperial government.

    ¡°If it¡¯s an attempt to expand his turf, I¡¯m unaware,¡± I said. ¡°I do hear from him that people are disappearing and Holmsteader either can¡¯t do anything or isn¡¯t. But if his name makes you reluctant to talk, maybe I can do something to help with that.¡±

    I reached inside my coat, pulled out a small coin purse, and started taking pounds from it, while inwardly cursing Versalicci. I¡¯d get repayment for all of this, even if I had to rip it directly out of his hide. The pair maintained an air of disinterest till the amount of pounds I¡¯d pulled out reached eight.

    The two traded glances, and then the woman sighed. ¡°Didn¡¯t hear it from us, got it?¡±

    ¡°If Holmsteader ever asks, the wind told me,¡± I said, then as they glanced confusedly at each other I added ¡°I won¡¯t tell. So, people have been disappearing then?¡±

    ¡°Aye,¡± she said. ¡°Though didn¡¯t think much of it for a while. Glee Street means there¡¯s always work, even if Holmsteader only trusts her folks with dealing with the outsiders. Still plenty of hauling and labor you can do for a day¡¯s meal and some water that ain¡¯t filthy. People drift in and out depending on their preference for work, but those have been drying up. And now the regulars are disappearing too.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re regulars?¡± I asked, settling in ten feet away, my back to the man, a move to put them at ease. Mind you, I was sure if he actually charged my back with a blade, I could disarm him and put the both of them down quickly.

    She nodded. ¡°Yep, been working here on and off for two years. Ain¡¯t pretty, but it keeps our bellies full and they give us wood for the winter.¡±

    Barely enough wood to last the night, it looked like. Holmsteader¡¯s people made sure they had willing hands to do the grunt work, but not enough to make them comfortable.

    ¡°They didn¡¯t look suspicious at the start,¡± the woman continued. ¡°No signs of struggle, everything packed up neatly and taken with ¡®em. Mostly the loners, those who don¡¯t have so many friends. No families. Our group, no one from there. Fire usually has eight around it, but some of the others have night work they¡¯re doing. Just the two of us tonight. Nobody¡¯s going outside in groups smaller than six or so.¡±

    Unfortunately, I could see this unfolding exactly as she¡¯d just laid out. People wouldn¡¯t trust the Watch, barely trusted Holmsteader and those who would be missed the least being targeted first ensured no one would notice for a while. And no one had.

    ¡°Used to be better back in the old days,¡± her companion said, speaking up for the first time. ¡°Used to be this place was littered with our kind so heavily that if you tried to make off with one everyone would see you do it. Now we¡¯re so spread out it¡¯s easy to pick people off if you know what you¡¯re doing.¡±

    I snorted. Exaggerations. The district might not be as crowded since Her Majesty decided the solution to the Quarter¡¯s problems were conscripting large chunks of it into the army, but it was still plenty tight. Might not be you had to maneuver around a sleeping body with every step when you went down an alley anymore, but there¡¯d be at least a half dozen there. More importantly.

    ¡°No it wasn¡¯t,¡± I said with forced calm. ¡°Those days, someone tried to snatch someone else? You better hope you have someone willing to risk their hide for you nearby, because otherwise everyone would turn their backs and let you be grabbed. So do me a favor old-horn, and no nostalgia for worse days.¡±

    Silence for a bit, his expression grim, before it broke into a grin.

    ¡°Fair enough. Speaking from experience?¡±

    ¡°Very personal experience,¡± I said. ¡°I ended up lucky. Some people took a shine to me, and I did have family willing to cut throats to get me back.¡±

    Literally, by the end there.

    ¡°Well,¡± he said. ¡°What you thinking about doing with our little story?¡±

    ¡°Well, Mr.?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t call me mister, make me feel ancient. I¡¯m Jones, that¡¯s Marat over there.¡±

    ¡°Well, for right now I¡¯m going to take a look around and talk with some of your neighbors. See if I can find any additional details. Maybe see if there¡¯s a more definite pattern in whose being nabbed.¡±

    ¡°Well,¡± Marat said. ¡°Be careful around Glenn¡¯s bunch, they¡¯ve taken to threatening any strangers that come by, and that rusty old flintlock is going to go off one of these days.¡±

    I nodded, although my attention was on something else.

    People like Jones and Marat would be prime targets for whoever was picking off people. Even with their group''s larger size, if they normally were split up like this? Easy prey.

    There were some things I could do, but wait here all night every night for someone to try and kidnap them was not one of them, so I¡¯d brought a few traps with me. Nothing special, just little mixtures that would react to the presence of diabolism. It would at least confirm that was being used, instead of a more mundane kidnapping ring.

    I looked over the warehouse in the arcane, noting the occasional echo and spirit. Someone had been knifed here, not too long in the past from the bloodstains only in the arcane. Not much else, this place was dull to my eyes besides that.

    Wait, The Imp interrupted me. Do you see that?

    I frowned. See what?

    Would you use your eyes? The Imp snapped.

    ¡°Maybe you could be more helpful and tell me exactly what I¡¯m looking for,¡± I replied in a whisper. ¡°Amazingly, just telling people to look again and not explain what¡¯s there doesn¡¯t¡­.¡±

    I trailed off as I looked closer at the ground, frowning.

    You were saying? The Imp snidely asked.

    ¡°Quiet,¡± I muttered, focusing on where I could have sworn a tiny part of the ground had briefly turned dark. Just for a second, something had tried to wriggle free.

    Now that I knew something was there, it was easier to see, although still only glimpses of it as it squirmed and moved about on the ground.

    ¡°Hey Jones?¡± I called out, and the two looked back towards me from the fire. ¡°Can you do me a favor? Move to the entrance of the warehouse then back again?¡±

    ¡°What?¡± he asked incredulously. ¡°Away from my fire? Why?¡±

    ¡°I think there¡¯s something here,¡± I said. ¡°Attached to you.¡±

    He looked at me like I was insane. ¡°I ain¡¯t got nothing on me. What are you, cra-¡±

    Marat had driven an elbow into his side, cutting him off as she hurriedly whispered something into his ears.

    ¡°Rumour on the street is she¡¯s a bloody Hells caster, don¡¯t call her crazy!¡±

    Far too low for me to hear. If I hadn¡¯t kept the enhancements in my ears.

    ¡°He don¡¯t mean anything by it Miss,¡± she said louder. ¡°But still it don¡¯t hurt to be cautious you know?¡±

    ¡°I just want to check something,¡± I said. ¡°A suspicion. Call it wager. Another pound if I end up being wrong.¡±

    After a hurried whispered debate over whether or not to risk it and some very wrong assumptions about me trying to rot off specific parts of his anatomy, Jones finally moved to the doors. I kept my gaze firmly on the ground, and now I could see it.

    Now I could see it as it dragged along the surface, changing to blend in almost instantaneously. Almost. If I hadn¡¯t known to look for it, I would never have noticed, but I could see it for brief moments as the camouflage changed, matching the surface of the ground.

    A long thin string of magic, and in those brief glimpses before it changed color back it was black.

    ¡°You can stop moving,¡± I called out, keeping an eye on where the string was. ¡°Probably not safe to handle, is it?¡±

    It¡¯s just diabolism, The Imp noted. Not dangerous unless you are afraid of your own heritage. Very well camouflaged, which I will eventually teach you. We would be progressing faster if again, you weren¡¯t so fearful of your heritage.

    I snorted. Biosculpting had done little for the stains on my right hand, hence why I wore gloves more often than not these days. And even themost intensive sessions crafting a disguise, there was still just the faintest impression of new scales on my skin where they¡¯d sprouted. Just enough to notice if you knew to look for them.

    Handling it may alert its creator though, The Imp noted.

    Moot point. The tools I had for directly interacting with the arcane were back at my shop, and I was not going to channel Diabolism at those threads.

    Marat and Jones had come closer now, cautious. I was not going to live down these rumors anytime soon.

    ¡°What is it?¡± Jones whispered.

    ¡°Someone slapped a tracking spell on you,¡± I said, eyeing where the little tracking string had been. ¡°A homemade one too. There¡¯s methods that wouldn¡¯t leave a trail, but I¡¯m guessing whoever put it on you didn¡¯t want a money trail left behind. Make your own, don¡¯t have to worry about your supplier selling you out if pressured.¡±

    ¡°The Hells?¡± Jones looked down at where I was examining the warehouse floor, Marat coming to join us. ¡°There¡¯s nothing there!¡±

    I hummed as I withdrew a vial from my pockets. ¡°Nothing you can see, or I normally would be able. Perks of learning a little bit of magecraft and having someone force my senses open a little. Even then it¡¯s very well hidden. Natural camouflage of sorts.¡±

    Jones chuckled, but there was a hint of mania to it as I unstoppered the bottle. ¡°You''re just trying to get out of paying me a pound, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    I flipped him the coin, and he nearly fumbled the catch, the tension draining out of him.

    Then I let a drop from the bottle fall on where the thread lay.

    There were slugs in the deep that glowed in the presence of magic. This was just some liquidized remnants, but it¡¯s amazing what dead cells could still do.

    The line glowed on both the arcane and the material plane, blue luminescence all across the thread where I¡¯d splattered the liquid. The tracking spell tried to compensate, but all it meant was that it turned blue as well.

    Jones and Marat both stumbled back, and I watched as a second line glowed next to the first. So, both of them had been tracked.

    ¡°Get rid of it!¡± Jones snarled at me.

    I paused, cocking my head. ¡°Good question. Can I?¡±

    ¡°You mean you don¡¯t know?!¡± Marat yelled, while the actual entity I¡¯d addressed the question to answered.

    You could, but with your current level of technqiue it would be messy and would alert its creator immediately. Most attempts to interfere with it would, actually. The caster would even know the precise area it was attacked at.

    "Calm, please,¡± I told the other two. ¡°No reason to let the entire neighborhood know about this.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not the one with some magic tracking device on you,¡± Marat said.

    ¡°Spell,¡± I corrected. ¡°Not tracking device. And there lies the problem. I could sever this connection, but it would alert whoever cast the spell, and also would tell them precisely where it was severed. In your house.¡±

    The two paled at that, staring at where the spell had faded from sight.

    ¡°I¡­¡± Jones shuddered. ¡°There¡¯s got to be something we can do right?¡±

    ¡°Of course there is,¡± I replied. ¡°It¡¯s not a tracking device but to tether to you someone would need to touch you. Either that, or they are far more powerful than I would think possible.¡±

    Not entirely wrong, The Imp commented. Hooking things onto souls requires touching the skin, or at least clothing. If they kept the pair in a ritual circle for a solid ten minutes that might do the trick, but I doubt even these two are dull enough to have missed that happening. Tethering at a glance would be power more akin to a devil¡¯s work than a mortal caster. Having an item they touched tether it would work as well.

    ¡°It¡¯s entirely possible they might have done it if either of you were inside a prepared ritual circle,¡± I continued seamlessly. ¡°It would be disguised, so you wouldn¡¯t notice. An item maybe you handled, but the general point is someone who touched you, brought you into their house, gave you an item to take care of, decided to hook you with a tracking spell, and have probably been waiting to collect on it.¡±

    Probably another reason for that, is if they¡¯d gotten these two close enough to track in the first place. Laying a tether in the soul with diabolism could lead to nasty results, especially if they had materials from said person on hand to also use.

    ¡°When you do work for Holmsteader, is there someone in particular who handles everything on her end?¡±

    From the looks on their faces, I think I knew who to pay a visit to next.

 Chapter 8 - Whisper III

    The house didn¡¯t look like it belonged to a diabolist.

    Usually, I¡¯d have some snide thought about how little reality resembled someone¡¯s book with cackling villains. However, between sympathetic magic properties and the corruptive influence of Diabolism, long-practicing Diabolist residents would pick up some traits of the Hells¡¯ magic.

    Also, I couldn¡¯t really judge, I liked reading those books too.

    The house of Holmsteader¡¯s liaison with the destitute was a small, pleasant one-story house, freshly constructed, possibly one of the newest buildings in the Quarter. A pleasant, welcoming porch, wide unbarred windows, even plants, a set of three rose bushes. All very dull and mundane, part of a series set to the side of Glee Street for Holmsteader and her top people. Probably the only buildings of their kind in the entire Quarter.

    Even the man¡¯s name was dull and unthreatening. Donald Tyler, was considered a generous and compassionate soul by the people he gathered to do labor for Holmsteader. Willing to sneak food or actual coin into their pay, as long as they weren¡¯t too loud and Holmsteader wasn¡¯t paying too close attention. At least two I¡¯d talked to had lived through life-threatening illnesses because of him sneaking them to see a doctor on his own dime.

    Acts of charity turned sour by the realization he¡¯d been doing them to keep his herd of sacrifices alive the way a farmer made sure animals destined for the slaughterhouse lived long enough to produce enough meat when killed.

    I hadn¡¯t come directly here first, having stopped with some of Marat and Jones¡¯ fellows and testing them. Some didn¡¯t have the tracking spell. Most did.

    In the process, I¡¯d had to assuage quite a few fears and anger, and I at least was certain no one would be trying to attack Tyler tonight.

    Tonight being the keyword, if nothing was done and the days stretched on, some of them would definitely get an idea to try something on their own. However personally, I was more concerned with Tyler finding out about my snooping.

    Let the days wear on and people might wonder how much I said was the truth and how much might have just been a show. Undermining trust in Holmsteader and her subordinates as the prelude to an attempted Black Flame takeover. Something that they might get a reward from if they informed Tyler and Holmsteader.

    So I had a time limit. This had to be done tonight before word got to either of them.

    Of course, while I¡¯d done much to assuage the anger of those I¡¯d talked to, two had insisted on coming with me to see this through. And given the choice between them helping me how they could or doing some other fool thing instead, I would reluctantly choose the former.

    They also claimed they¡¯d be able to scare up a cart, which did sweeten the deal a little.

    So, Marat, Jones, and I were holed up in an alley while I tried to spot all the watchers assigned for this stretch of the street.

    This was the home of all of Glee Street¡¯s leadership, there would be at least one, and I was pretty sure I¡¯d spotted him. A drunk slumped over by a deserted horse hitching post from an era long gone, now rusted to the point the original design was near-impossible to make out.

    He was not the best-trained watcher. Pretending to be black-out drunk didn¡¯t work when you perked up ever so slightly whenever anyone walked past.

    ¡°You think it¡¯ll be here?¡± Jones whispered. ¡°Not at the place he works? Or where he currently is?¡±

    I resisted the urge to sigh. My own fault for wanting helpers in case I needed to get something out of there. I hadn¡¯t intended that to mean I¡¯d be giving lessons, but being blunt with these two? While handling something as delicate as this? It''s not a wise move.

    ¡°I doubt Holmsteader is involved,¡± I told him and Marat. ¡°If she is, that means bigger problems than I can handle. But if she doesn¡¯t know, he¡¯s not going to be doing rituals inside any space filled with her people. A hidden location inside an Infernal Gang¡¯s stronghold? Won¡¯t be hidden for long. A secure location in his home? Much safer and easier to hide. But if we need confirmation?¡±

    I pulled out my bottle of arcane revealer again, letting a few drops fall on the ground between us and the house. Once again the tracking spells lit up, as well as easily a dozen others reaching out from the house towards the outskirts of Glee Street.

    ¡°I don¡¯t get it,¡± Marat said, eyeing the ground and the glowing lines. ¡°He should be at the casino right now overseeing the scut work. Shouldn¡¯t these be attached to them?¡±

    ¡°Managing his risks,¡± I replied. ¡°Sure, people magically inclined who¡¯ve learned to peer into the arcane are rare, and he¡¯s disguised his little tracking spells as best he can, but Glee Street? Where rich and powerful come for a bit of safe danger and taboo-breaking. Magic can get you there, so there¡¯s probably a higher concentration of those who practice than anywhere else in the Quarter. Sure, they¡¯re disguised, but why run the risk when you can anchor all the tethers to your house or an item inside? It¡¯s not like he needs to keep track when he¡¯s doing his job for Holmsteader. Hells, I bet he¡¯s only tagged people who live further in the Quarter just so none of them run through Glee Street.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t foolproof, since some of the people he tagged would be working in Glee Street, but it was as close as he could reasonably get.

    ¡°There is only one way to find out,¡± I muttered. ¡°Can you get that cart you mentioned?¡±

    Jones nodded. ¡°Take a bit of negotiating, but I can have it here in half an hour. And Tyler don¡¯t finish his overseeing of us till at least three hours from now.¡±

    Just a while before dawn. Which would be coming soon. What I would do for just eight hours of uninterrupted sleep.

    ¡°Go then. I¡¯ll hopefully be out with what I need by then.¡±

    He nodded twice, then scampered off in the darkness. Still could move fast for an old-timer.

    ¡°While Jones gets the wagon, I have something I want you to do,¡± I told Marat.

    ¡°And what¡¯s that?¡± she asked, squinting at me. She was less eager than her friend to help me on this, mostly dragged along by his anger.

    She, I thought, had doubts about what I¡¯d done and about the theory I¡¯d sketched out. I couldn¡¯t blame her. Suspicion was a constant companion if you wanted to live in the Quarter, maybe less today than it had in the past, but still.

    ¡°See the blacked-out window he¡¯s got leading to his cellar?¡± I said, pointing towards it.

    ¡°My eyesight ain¡¯t going yet. Yeah, I see it.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m guessing that¡¯s where he¡¯d keep the evidence,¡± I told her. ¡°He needs his first floor relatively clear and clean for any guests he might have. So, once I take out the watch, you head over there, and if anyone comes to enter the house, just gently rap on it to get my attention. Then hide till they get inside?¡±

    She frowned, eyeing the cellar window. ¡°That¡¯s it?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s all,¡± I confirmed. ¡°I don¡¯t want you trying anything else. If my suspicions are right, I don¡¯t think you can hurt him, and I don¡¯t want you to try. Be back in a bit.¡±

    The hitching post was on this side of the street, and I crept closer. I¡¯d chosen an alley exiting close to where the pretend-drunk lay. Another rookie mistake, and that made me pause. Holmsteader wasn¡¯t a fool, so why this setup? You had layabouts in every operation, but I wasn¡¯t this lucky.

    Bait. A decoy. There to grab the casual eye and the actual watcher could just keep an eye on them. I settled back in the alley, looking for easy places to keep an eye on the hitching post. I¡¯d already scanned most, so where-

    I shook my head slightly. I only had looked from this side of the street, and there was an easy enough answer. Assuming not inside the building behind the hitching post? On top of it. I grabbed a rock, and then considered how to get up the roof without being heard.

    Fireworks started firing off from Glee Street again, exploding into bursting balls of red and gold, the noise loud enough to deafen. Well, maybe I could get a little lucky.

    I clambered onto the roof and made it only a few feet behind the second watcher. He was crouched near the chimney, blending into its shadow while keeping an eye down below. While the fireworks continued, I considered my options for knocking him unconscious.

    Part of the kit I¡¯d brought was three little glass balls, nestled in a handkerchief, all put inside a wooden box that I slid into one of my jacket pockets. The little balls contained a mixture I¡¯d worked on, containing spores from a predatory plant that put its victims to sleep and then ate the unconscious bodies.

    I¡¯d treated the handkerchief so it would filter out the spores. Not the best of weapons to use in the pinch, one hand to throw and the other to hold the handkerchief over my nose, but with luck, they wouldn¡¯t be used for combat.

    Either way, not needed for this guard. I crept closer, then at the right moment, flicked the rock to the side.

    He rushed to his hooves as the rock landed to his side. The noise of the rock clattering didn¡¯t cover the sound of my hooves as I rushed forward, but they distracted him long enough for me to get him in a hold.

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

    He struggled, and I held on tightly, arm around his throat, hand on the back of his head as I cinched it tighter. He went limp, and I quickly let go.

    I was hoping for no deaths. No deaths meant less chance of Holmsteader seeking revenge afterward, otherwise, I might have settled for a knife. No chance of him waking up from that.

    ¡°Heldert?¡± A voice called from down below, the drunk completely upright. ¡°You slip or something?¡±

    I¡¯d already pulled out the box. My aim was perfect, and the ball landed right between the Hitching Post Watcher¡¯s hooves.

    He cursed and tried to move, only to trip over his own feet and land snoozing on the street.

    I made sure the one up top wasn¡¯t going to slide, then got off the roof, grabbed the second watcher, and settled them against the hitching post. Perfect, it didn¡¯t look any different than it had before.

    ¡°Took your time,¡± Marat commented as I made my way over to the side of the house.

    ¡°Two watchers,¡± I said as I moved to one of the side windows. ¡°They¡¯ll be asleep for a while now. Anyone back here when you arrived?¡±

    ¡°Nope.¡±

    Hrrm, no bars outside the window, but peering through it, there were bars inside the window. Tyler was someone who cared about aesthetics as a front, keeping the outside of his house nice and pleasant while the inside held the eyesore defenses.

    Well, those wouldn¡¯t be a bother. Concentrated acid would eat away at it. Maybe not fast enough to fully chew through in time, but enough that a file would make up the difference.

    ¡°Door would be easier,¡± Marat noted.

    ¡°Doors are likely trapped,¡± I replied. ¡°Honestly, if I had more time I¡¯d settle for taking the long, safe route, but as things are-¡¯

    A dip into the arcane to take a look, then a splash of revealer to double-check, then I got to work with a steel glass cutter. Marat winced at the noise of it scraping along the glass, but soon enough I¡¯d cut around the entire frame. Hook the cutter around the top, pull, grab the pane before it hit the ground, and soon I had a glassless window to climb through.

    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t be more than twenty minutes,¡± I said. ¡°If I am? Hang around my shop, it¡¯s in Pelkin¡¯s Row. First Infernal you see wearing pink, tell them.¡±

    ¡°Pink,¡± Marat repeated in disbelief.

    ¡°It¡¯s a strange world we live in,¡± I muttered as I began to work on the iron bars.

    I¡¯d brought a few other alchemicals besides the spores and the acid. The arcane revealer I¡¯d already used to find the spell. Noise-eating concoctions to block all sound in a room. I¡¯d been tempted to bring a vial of inky blackness, but I only had the one. Besides, I had yet to brew the drops that would let me see through it, and my hearing wasn¡¯t finetuned enough that I could use it to avoid flailing in the dark like everyone else. Alchemist¡¯s fire, a single vial, is a bit dangerous in a wooden house and sure to attract attention. A Pop-stick, similar although its entire use was for attracting attention.

    I poured a few drops of acid on each bar, hissing as they began to chew through the metal. I did have to work some with the chisel, then repeat the process up top. Leave just a little bit on one side so I could reach in, snap them off, then pull them out. I couldn¡¯t let them hit the ground. I could see wood flooring inside, but I couldn¡¯t be certain there were no traps or alarms.

    Marat at least had hidden the plane of glass and was working on the iron bars as I removed them. I could have squeezed through with two but went up to four. Having more space never hurt.

    Inside was dark, but I could see a countertop, a sink, and a cookstove. The kitchen of the house, which made the wood floor a bit of a puzzler. Did he not worry about moisture? Or was this for show and not actually for cooking?

    Enough thinking about the layout of this much nicer house than the one I lived in. I got up on the windowsill, moving inside.

    I stepped on a floorboard and as soon as it began to shift removed my hoof. Hrrm, creaky floorboards. In a very well-maintained house. Surely these could not possibly be traps. He must have a way to disable them, otherwise making breakfast might be an adventure in not causing an explosion.

    Tentative testing with my hooves showed a pattern of every other floorboard at first. I remained cautious, which paid off on the last set of floorboards. A trap built in the pattern, designed to trip you up for being lazy.

    A test of the first set of floorboards outside the kitchen proved them all solid. I wouldn¡¯t stop testing of course.

    I was in a hallway now, one that ran to a parlor and dining room in the back, and three doors further towards the back. Study, bedroom, and bathroom most likely. Opening each, and yep, well-appointed rooms much better than my own, very nice furniture, three entire bookshelves of reading material, and a very comfortable-looking bed. Dipping into the arcane, not a trace of the lines, nor of anything else. Strange.

    Arcane revealer on the floor and the lines led to a wall. Oh.

    Sighing, I put my hand against the wall, and the illusion faded, revealing the door behind it. This wasn¡¯t diabolism, to collapse at a touch. Likely a store-bought charm he¡¯d installed. I opened the door, and immediately closed it again, bile rising in my throat as I leaned against the wall.

    As soon as I¡¯d opened it, the stench, an overpowering smell of rot and death that had rushed out. Hells, how did the entire house not reek of it?

    Prepared, I opened it again and ventured down into the cellar.

    A single flight of stairs, the stench growing thicker with each step, the curdling sensation in my gut growing. I found a lantern at the bottom and lit it.

    I was in a charnel pit.

    I stepped over discarded limbs and severed heads, hacked apart torsos and disemboweled stomachs. It was impossible not to step in some of the offal, but I weaved a path through the torn-apart bodies. This wasn¡¯t a small cellar, forty by forty feet, and some of these parts were stacked two high. How many dead?

    It wasn¡¯t all just body parts. A desk by the door, papers stacked high, almost unsettling in its mundanity. Two tables, stacked with tools, saws, hammers, and hatchets. All had dried blood on them, and from the splatter, not necessarily from use on dead bodies. Four tarps over large masses that were easily my height.

    In the middle of the room was a steel disc in the floor, easily ten feet across, coated in dried blood, black lines forming patterns. It hurt to look at, the lines searing in my brain the longer I stared till I turned my attention to an elderly face frozen into a scream, bisected down the middle.

    I¡¯d seen similar. This was all too familiar in fact. Back in my days with the Flame, although never so haphazard and jumbled up. It had been so easy to ignore back then, so easy to pretend we weren¡¯t monsters. Corpses of enemies, or those deemed enemies. Those lost in the cause. Carved up precisely, body parts were used the moment they were collected. Occasional rites over the dead who¡¯d been ours, honoring them before we used them as offerings to summon devils and monsters.

    Blind, blind girl I¡¯d been. A bit of ceremony and a pretense at rebellion were all that had been needed back then. Monstrous acts had been necessary, but they¡¯d been at the service of a power-seeking lunatic.

    Although here I was, doing his bidding once again. At least wiser a smidge. Monstrosity when it was needed, not all the time. And not only in service to him.

    I was at least past the days when it felt like a necessity.

    I pulled the tarp off one of the larger lumpy objects and grimaced as I looked over what it had hidden.

    Limbs, sewn together to what must be three, no four torsos joined together, formed into a horse-like shape, a rib cage and skull topping the entire thing. I circled it, looking into the arcane. Impressions of those who had died making this, but nothing concrete. Inky black lines, but they were faint, nearly dissolved into the air.

    At the center, this was a summoning circle, drawn in blood along the metal surface. A complex one as well, with twelve symbols carved in the metal, forming the pattern of a six-tipped star. Rough, beaten iron, roughly carved into these symbols.

    "Imp, what am I looking at?"

    A rapping interrupted my question, the sound of a hoof tapping the glass across from me. The blacked-out window.

    I hurried upstairs, wondering who it could be. Surely not Tyler, not yet.

    I stopped in the hallway, looking into the kitchen, at the window I¡¯d left open and stripped of defenses.

    A red-skinned, crimson-haired, short-horned Infernal stepped through, her eyes glowing orange in the darkness.

    Right into the rising muzzle of my revolver.

    She froze, eyes panicked as her hand came up, but I clicked my tongue.

    ¡°None of that, Melissa. Well, this is a shock. And I thought this was all some attempt by my dear brother to set me up and have Holmsteader come after me. Unless you aren¡¯t as important to him as you¡¯d like to think?¡±

    Her skin flushed with anger, but she didn¡¯t make any sudden moves.

    ¡°Come all the way inside,¡± I said. ¡°Be a bit careful, the owner has some very creaky floorboards I¡¯m pretty sure are rigged. What are you doing here?¡±

    ¡°Same thing you are,¡± she said, glaring at me. ¡°Following up on this cause it didn¡¯t look like you cared.¡±

    ¡°I do care,¡± I said reflexively. ¡°Just not enough to agree to my brother¡¯s demands of me when he bursts in early on in my day.¡±

    I led her towards the hidden door, continuing to talk while pointing at the trapped floorboards.

    ¡°Honestly, I figured this was just some trap of Versalicci¡¯s,¡± I admitted as I led her down at gunpoint. ¡°But upon further investigation, well-¡±

    She looked at the grisly sight, then cursed under her breath.

    ¡°This is-¡±

    ¡°Dozens,¡± I said. ¡°Probably more. How did you know to come here, Melissa?¡±

    She froze, then let out a held breath. ¡°Versalicci didn¡¯t know but he suspected. He noticed when he tried ordering some ingredients from a supplier in uh, exotic parts.¡±

    Demon bits and pieces. There was a trade, as well in other magical creature body parts, fluids, powders and other such things. I¡¯d been approached about it early into my shop¡¯s opening, and I¡¯d started trading with a few of them. It would have been suspicious not to trade at all, and I knew most of them would be involved with Versalicci or one of his rivals.

    ¡°And how did you know?¡± I asked her.

    I had my suspicions, especially with her assigned to watch me trace that communication circle the last time I¡¯d visited Versalicci.

    ¡°We needed reagents for¡­I¡¯m not saying,¡± she muttered. ¡°I probably shouldn¡¯t even admit it, but the only way I tracked this was by probing that diabolic tracking spell.¡±

    My heart plummeted. ¡°You probed it? How?¡±

    She frowned. ¡°Just a little bit of diabolism, make it react and follow the disturbance to this house. Why?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a tracking spell,¡± I hissed. ¡°He would have been alerted the moment you-¡±

    A rap against the little window once again, Marat nudging it, and then the hurried sound of hooves on the stones outside. And from above, the sound of a door opening.

    Melissa and I both went quiet as the sound of voices drifted down to us.

    ¡°-really, you didn¡¯t need to come Lord Montague,¡± an unfamiliar baritone said from above, polite but distinctly irritated. ¡°Honestly, we could have had this discussion at another time, another place.¡±

    Lord Montague? Oh, if that bumbling, bragging blowhard was mixed up in all of this I was going to take pleasure in nailing his carcass to a wall when this was all said and done-

    ¡°Nonsense,¡± a voice very distinctly Gregory Montague¡¯s said with that kind of cheeriness some took on when they knew their presence bothered you, just innocent enough that you couldn¡¯t be entirely sure. ¡°The Church of Tarver insists on paying all of it¡¯s debts, and Father Reginald owed you quite a bit. And as the person who has to handle all of his affairs after death, it is only natural I take care of them as soon as possible.¡±

    Joy. I glanced at Melissa, then hoped that the sign language from back in the Black Flame days hadn¡¯t been adjusted too much.

    I¡¯ll take the lead. Follow.

    A brief moment of hesitation, then a nod.

    This, this was going to be tricky. Tyler must have come back as soon as he felt the disturbance. Gregory was with him because Father Reginald owed Tyler money. Running his own investigation that intersected with the dead Father. Was Tyler the diabolist?

    Entirely possible. I kept my finger on the trigger as I crept up the stairs, my other hand reaching into my pocket.

    My tail wrapped around the door handle, ready to wrench it open. I pulled out a small glass ball.

    I was going to waste so much in terms of alchemy on this. Maybe I could send Versalicci an invoice.

    I opened the door to the ground floor, tossing the glass bottle inside. As soon as the glass shattered, both the sound of the opening door and the glass breaking stopped.

    I moved through the doorway, not a sound as I moved into the entrance hall, pivoting towards the front door.

    Two stood there, one Infernal, one human. Gregory Montague¡¯s eyes widened as he saw me move into view, aiming my revolver.

    Donald Tyler was an orange-skinned Infernal in his thirties, with a short trimmed beard and a professional demeanor matched with a professional suit. His eyes widened in shock, but then they narrowed, flames beginning to sprout from his hands.

    Too late. I pulled the trigger, and his head snapped back, a hole punched right through the middle of it.

 Chapter 9 - Whisper IV

    Donald Tyler toppled backwards, black fire already fading from his hands as he landed on the wood paneling of his floor with a resounding thud. He lay there, unmoving, expression shocked, the only thing out of place the single hole in his head. The echo of his landing reverberated, and I could hear the fireworks outside.

    Those little balls of silence didn¡¯t last that long.

    In response, Gregory¡¯s hands begin to glow as his eyes flicked quickly between the now-dead Tyler and me. He¡¯d ditched any priestly robes for a nice suit that hung on him fiendishly well. That tailored frock coat in dark blue fit him very well, and he had put on some muscle since last we met, shoulders just a bit broader, filling it out-

    Damnations, focus on how he apparently had enough money to see a tailor after building muscle Malvia, not the muscle itself!

    ¡°Gregory,¡± I said calmly. ¡°We¡¯ve had our recent disagreements, but before you do anything rash-¡±

    ¡°You shot him!¡± he exclaimed, eyes wary as Melissa took a position behind me. ¡°You¡¯re talking about me doing something rash?¡±

    ¡°He was channeling Diabolism,¡± I said. ¡°And also, you should see his cellar before we start a fight. Melissa, back off.¡±

    She sneered at me. ¡°I don¡¯t take orders from you.¡±

    ¡°Fine. Gregory, would you mind helping me beat some sense into Melissa? Do either of you want to fight? Start a brawl sure to attract attention, including Holmsteader? Or can we all take a breath, act like intelligent ladies and gentleman, and show Gregory exactly why I shot Mr. Tyler right between the eyes?¡±

    ¡°What so you can trick me down into an isolated-¡°

    ¡°He could kill both of us with a gesture, why are you letting him-¡°

    ¡°Quiet!¡± I snapped, and both of them actually went silent. ¡°Gregory, I am not trying to trap you, you need to come down and look at this. Right. Now.¡±

    A pause, both of them eyeing each other then me, then Gregory nodded.

    ¡°Don¡¯t mind the light,¡± he said, one of his hands glowing with an luminescence that hurt to look at. ¡°Just..insurance.¡±

    I couldn¡¯t begrudge him that, and so we went down the stairs, him at the back despite Melissa¡¯s protests.

    By the time we reached the bottom, Gregory¡¯s face paled and the light winked out. He stumbled, but steadied himself as he stared across the blood-soaked cellar.

    ¡°How many?¡± Gregory asked, face milk white as he tried, and failed, to find a place to look that didn¡¯t contain the dead. He looked like he was about to puke, and Melissa didn¡¯t look much better.

    Honestly, the lack of anything to eat helped me. The stench was awful, tying my stomach into knows. The sheer amount of death didn¡¯t help either.

    ¡°Dozens,¡± I said. ¡°Talking with those who he oversaw at the casinos? I can¡¯t say how many he picked off, only that he eventually ran out of loners and those who wouldn¡¯t be missed. Started tracking those who kept to groups, which meant he was probably approaching his endgame. Either that, or his desire for more outgrew his caution. Maybe. Get away with something long enough, you begin to think you are invincible.¡±

    One would think the third time down here would have made this easier, but instead the twisting in my gut felt worse as I walked into this abattoir for a third time. Looking at the plethora of butchered bodies around, and then at the tools, it was too easy to imagine how he must have carved them up.

    My hand, shaking, put the sawblade to where the shoulder met the bicep.

    ¡°Enough stalling,¡± Daver rasped next to me, the smell of whiskey still on his breath. ¡°Bad enough we gotta start with the dead ones because your hand shakes too much on the live ones. So stop shaking and start sawing.¡±

    I breathed in heavily, looking at the body in front of me. Don¡¯t look at the face. Anywhere but there. Pieter, why?

    ¡°Child, I¡¯ve been about as patient with you as I can. I get you knew this one, but it¡¯s meat. By now his soul has left. All that¡¯s left is flesh. Be glad the boss only demanded the body be used after instead of both.¡±

    I hesitantly pulled on the saw, wincing as teeth carved into flesh, blood leaking out on either side. I¡¯d cut before, but only when some Watch officer tried grabbing me or someone else came after me for my stuff or the hut me and mother lived in. This¡­this was¡­

    ¡°Child, he¡¯s mad enough as is. Betrayal bites deep. Makes him bleed his anger, when one of his own turns, no matter the rank. Best not to cut him any more today.¡±

    I shuddered, then put my effort behind my next stroke with the saw, teeth biting deep, shredding skin and muscle underneath, fibers parting as sharp teeth cut through them. Then again, and again, and again till I reached bone and -

    ¡°Malvia?¡±

    The memory pierced by that word, I looked over at Gregory, who has moved to the central metal circle. I¡­it had been forever since I¡¯d thought of that, those early days and learning to be more careful of what I showed.

    ¡°Yes?¡± I asked Gregory, who was frowning as he looked down at the central circle.

    ¡°How did you find this place?¡± He asked, walking around while avoiding any of the many, many body parts littering the ground.

    ¡°Part of it was help from us,¡± Melissa said before I had a chance to say anything. ¡°The Black Flame-¡°

    ¡°Did nothing but watch and take notice,¡± I interrupted her, and her grin turned to a scowl. ¡°Versalicci told me about people disappearing, and with what was happening I decided to look into it. I did not expect to find this. This must have been happening for weeks, like I said before. What he was trying to do is unknown, but I can take a guess.¡±

    The strange sewn-together corpses were still on display. I hadn¡¯t uncovered the three other ones yet.

    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have shot him,¡± Gregory said as color returned to his face. ¡°We should have interrogated him, kept him alive so we could find out if he had killed Father Reginald-¡°

    ¡°Tyler worked at night,¡± I interrupted. ¡°That¡¯s easy enough to find out if he was working the night Father Reginald was killed. And I shot him because otherwise it would be three Diabolists and a divine caster throwing spells at each other in a single room right next to Gleam Street. Infernal corruption, Holmsteader¡¯s people coming down on top of us, and one of us might have hurt each other. Hells, he probably already planned on killing you if he could get away with it. At a bare minimum, if you¡¯d found your way through the illusion on the door? You¡¯d have your body parts strewn among those here.¡±

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    Gregory shuddered. ¡°The kind of mind to dissect so many.¡±

    ¡°Could be worse, they could have been alive,¡± Melissa commented.

    ¡°How do you know they weren''t?¡± He replied.

    A shrieking wail as I sawed, the arm straining against metal cuffs as I hurried as fast as I could.

    I couldn¡¯t ignore it, but I couldn¡¯t cry either, not as the shriek came again, mixed with pleas for mercy and a swift death cut off by Golvar¡¯s boot to their face.

    ¡°Hellsdamned Coppers. Hurry up, we need all four limbs off before he dies! You better be ready to keep him breathing Daver.¡±

    ¡°They might have,¡± I admitted, trying to keep my mind on something besides the memory. ¡°Struggling, living souls are¡­more valuable for certain tasks, for lack of a better term. Not necessarily for deals, but for other things..¡±

    My eyes wandered to the sewn together construct of severed body parts.

    The joined together faces of Pieter and the Watch officers bulged, something else pressing against their skulls. Something not them pushed forward, wearing their skins as it stretched, skin splitting and stretching. Claws tore their way through, forcing its way out of their bodies.

    I forced myself out of the past. I was in the here and now, not back then, and more importantly, I had two people to deal with.

    If I had either of these two look through this with me, too much of a chance that they would try to keep evidence for themselves, and besides, I had something else in mind.

    I pulled the wooden box from within my jacket while they examined the altar, quickly withdrawing the cloth and the two remaining glass balls from within.

    ¡°Tell me, do any of those symbols in the metal look familiar?¡± I asked.

    As soon as both peered down, I flung both balls and quickly pressed the handkerchief to my face.

    The two turned as the glass shattered, but all that meant was that they landed in the mess of severed limbs instead of on the metal circle. I kept the cloth pressed against my face for a full minute, waiting til well past any spores should have disintegrated before breathing unfiltered air.

    I stumbled a little bit, a little woozy, although that might just be full exposure to the rotting stench. Tyler must have done something to alleviate the stench, since I doubted even he would have been able to stand this without passing out.

    Well, now I had two more things to put onto Jones¡¯ wagon. And I¡¯d have to puzzle out a plan for them once I had them both back at my shop. I did not really have secure places to hold them.

    First, though, finish the investigation here, then head back. Tyler heading home early might be just the break-in pattern for one of his colleagues to check on him. Luckily, only a few points of interest to check. It was entirely possible there was a hidden compartment somewhere in here, but I did not have time to check.

    I opened my eyes to the astral, and the room changed.

    The Astral was a land of metaphors when it came to things besides cast defined spells. Everything else was symbolic, things you had to takes guesses at. Not what they appeared to be.

    I had to remind myself of that as the flesh coating every surface in the room blinked at me with large, bloodshot eyes the size of my fist, maws opening to gasp for air all around me.

    Not real. Just a reflection of this room which¡­well, it was more lively than I expected, but it could just be devils trying to peer in on this. They could observe even from the Hells, and traces of that could be found on the astral. Luckily they couldn¡¯t do anything more than that.

    Strangely, the circle itself? Not changed at all? Oh, there was something underneath, pushing against the metal, lifting it, but it always overwhelmed them and came back down.

    Souls, gathered, and stored, but not used yet. That or this was more abstract than I suspected.

    I took a tentative step closer, and the metal surface bulged once more. Stretching like it was made of cloth instead of metal, something pressed from underneath. The surface remained unbroken though, and with a blink it returned to just a circle, the nightmarish images from the arcane layer vanishing.

    ¡°Now for where we left off before we were interrupted,¡± I said to the empty air. ¡°The summoning circle. This configuration isn¡¯t like any I¡¯ve learned, so I¡¯d appreciate your insight on it?¡±

    The Imp¡¯s quiet over all of this did not go unnoticed, and I wasn¡¯t sure if it was doing me a favor by being quiet or just being lazy. It had been a while since I¡¯d eaten a cow.

    It¡¯s a very intensive circle, The Imp informed me. The reason it was never taught is that Versalicci, that incompetent ram, preferred simple, workmanlike approaches to Diabolism. Nothing fancy, nothing embellished. No sacrificing half a hundred virgins to summon a baron of the hells, no, let¡¯s just slit the throats of a half dozen watchmen for lesser creatures.

    I rolled my eyes. Versalicci, against embellishment and showmanship? Perhaps when too much pragmatism was being sacrificed for it. Like the fact that Barons were by their nature harder to hide than lesser devils. Also finding half a hundred virgins would require grabbing people off the streets, and it would be harder to sell those deaths along with his pretense of being a revolutionary instead of someone out for personal gain.

    ¡°There¡¯s always more what that came from,¡± Golvar said to me, then I felt his hand grab my head.

    I¡¯d been looking at the ground, trying not to look at the bleeding mess in front, the still moving stumps as Daver prepared the parts I¡¯d sawed off Pieter.

    I can feel you rolling your eyes, child, The Imp said in exasperation. It is the truth. This man clearly aimed for higher power, and has been feeding souls into this circle over time, likely in preparation for something.

    ¡°I get the feeling if it was for a summoning, he would have used it beforehand,¡± I said, shaking myself out of the memory. Why now? ¡°Yet, looking at this, it does not appear to have been used at all. And he doesn¡¯t seem very picky about the souls.¡±

    There was very little that seemed shared among the body parts strewn about. Well, outside of their race, but that might just be the fact that his main targets were the poor Infernals in the areas surrounding Glee Street.

    He does not seem, The Imp admitted. It is entirely possible he is simply storing over time, saving them up-

    ¡°Foolish,¡± I said. ¡°Sure, most of those he killed wouldn¡¯t be missed, but that¡¯s if he did it in moderation. He has not done that. And storing angry souls on this scale without using them? For what must have been weeks? This is a ticking time bomb waiting to go off-¡±

    ¡®Tis not The Imp interrupted me. These souls are already destined to the Hells, and are stuck to a device attuned to it. If it were destroyed, or if they channeled their collective anger to free themselves in an attempt to harm him? The Hells¡¯ claim would take priority, and drag them down to it

    Hrrm. Still seemed quite the risk. He had no use for them before this? Something didn¡¯t sit right about the sheer number of souls trapped under that circle.

    ¡°Well,¡± I said. ¡°Just leaving it here seems unwise. While I doubt Holmsteader wants to branch into the Diabolic, it would be-¡±

    Just leave it, The Imp said.

    Irritably, I had to acknowledge the imp had a point. Handling this without risking a diabolic mishap from all the souls stored in it would take time. Time I did not have as I moved onto the desk.

    Interesting that no one from Intelligence had popped up tonight. Either they weren¡¯t observing me as closely as suspected, or they were treating this all with a very light hand. Probably the latter.

    I went to the desk, deciding it would be easier to just clear it out than to bother going through all of the papers tonight. I needed to clear out of here before someone happened to notice the missing window.

    I gathered all the papers up, taking a drawer from the desk and pressing down until they all fit inside. Alright, upstairs to get Marat and see if Jones had brought his wagon yet.

    Getting to the roof, I pulled my gun out, then after handling some swift business, opened the front door and called out for Marat.

    She entered cautiously, eyes nervously darting about.

    ¡°Any more problems happen?¡± she asked me. ¡°Heard a bunch of gunshots just a second ago?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± I said serenely. ¡°Had some complications. Two living bodies we¡¯ll need loaded in the wagon.¡±

    She seemed a bit off-put, especially looking down at the body.

    ¡°Can barely tell it¡¯s him. More holes than face now. How many bullets did you put into him?¡±

    I quelled a flash of irritation before it could show. ¡°Ignore that. I have two live people, and some documents, and some miscellaneous equipment to load onto the wagon. Will it all fit?¡±

    ¡°Sure, sure,¡± Marat said. ¡°Calm down a bit. This one had you riled up, did he?¡±

    ¡°You might say that.¡±

    Marat looked at Donald Tyler¡¯s corpse.

    ¡°What do you want to do with that?¡±

    I considered the bullet-ridden corpse. The temptation to attach it the wagon and let it drag behind us was there, just to take the evidence away. But no. No.

    "Toss it below with the rest.¡±

 Chapter 10 - Whisper V

    I numbly watched a pair of corpses being eaten.

    The devil was chewing its way through the Watchman¡¯s guts, not caring for their contents as its teeth sliced through intestines. The two other heads continued to shriek in Infernalspeak, blabbering nonsense that felt like a knife in each ear.

    It wasn¡¯t even language, just the devil Bersand acting on what it knew. This one was more animal than individual, capable of speech only to trick people into getting close. If it was capable of having a conversation, it deliberately chose not to. That keening sound that made me want to clamp my hands over my ears? Might just be a way to distract and incapacitate prey.

    At least it had learned to tone it down some. I did manage to restore Kanes¡¯ hearing after, but only with a week of experimenting.

    I was comforting myself with memories. It kept me distracted. I hadn¡¯t been close with Maria and Morder, but that didn¡¯t make death with them sting less. One dead because of their treachery, the second directly because of that. Damnations Morder, I thought looking down at the corpse. Was it so unbearable it made the Watch palatable?

    There¡¯d been hints, ones I¡¯d ignored for his sake while I talked him out of outright leaving. I thought I had convinced him. Apparently not.

    Pain dulled when it was from the same spot so many times. This would be the fourth time I watched someone close to me die for dealing with the Watch.

    As Bersand ate away at Morder¡¯s mashed face, I forced myself not to care. It was easier. His stupidity had cost more than his own life. Even as teeth bit and pulled, slurping up the beaten-up face like skin off a chicken.

    It was all flesh in the end.

    ***

    I waited in the chambers underneath the pit for a while, knowing my brother would be soon to arrive.

    In some flights of fancy I¡¯d imagined myself his closest confidant, for him to so often turn to me for advice. I knew better now. Just one voice among many. Don¡¯t overreach, ''cause a hand that reaches for the sun often finds its flesh burnt by the heat.

    I¡¯d passed by learning that lesson far too many times in the Flame. Only brother¡¯s patience had given me the chance to finally let it sit without a slit throat along the way.

    ¡°An awful night,¡± Gio opined as he entered the room. ¡°One safehouse destroyed, one of our new recruits dead, Maria dead, and Morder turned traitor. And Devel¡¯s turned down my offer this evening. This won¡¯t help.¡±

    That caught my attention as I prepared the second saw. ¡°He turned you down? He give any hints why?¡±

    Devel and the One-horns were¡­an interesting gang based in the outskirts of the Quarter. Fond of a signature that was far too close to mutilation commonly done to our people for my tastes. They mostly dealt in goods being smuggled into the Quarter in return for smuggled out goods of an illicit nature desperate Infernals were willing to provide.

    Desperate Infernals meant people perfectly suited to make deals incentivized to do so, just for a bit of power and a way to claw something back. Usually not very powerful, they didn¡¯t make for good bargainers or usually lived very long, but enough to keep trade up.

    ¡°Plenty,¡± Gio said. ¡°Mostly relating to not respecting us, our position, or our strength. So in return, I want to use that delightful little mixture you brewed up on them.¡±

    I paused, recalling the conversation. We¡¯d gone through a few options, depending on how hostile Gio wanted to be. The upper limit was something I hadn¡¯t intended to actually be considered.

    ¡°I¡¯d advise against using it,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s hard to control, and it¡¯s going to attract attention.¡±

    ¡°The army uses it,¡± Gio replied.

    ¡°That makes it more dangerous to use, not less,¡± I told him. ¡°They¡¯ll think you robbed their stocks.¡±

    ¡°Let them,¡± he said. ¡°I want them thinking that. I want Voltar chasing that. I want the Watch busy keeping guard of every army armory in the city, and out of this district. I want every little two-bit gang in this Quarter afraid of even thinking of crossing us!¡±

    His tone grew increasingly irate, and I kept my thoughts to myself and my tongue still. When Gio focused, it was very unwise to annoy him. He was never cruel, but still, best to let him just work it out as he continued to list out his complaints involving Devel.

    Besides, I needed to clean and prepare my tools for what was to come next.

    When he came to a new subject though, I wish he had stuck to complaining about Devel.

    ¡°You were close to Morder, weren¡¯t you?¡± Gio said, putting the law book from earlier back in its place, having forgotten he was still holding it in his claws.

    I wouldn¡¯t hesitate long for an answer. Deny something anyone could tell him in an attempt at distancing, or admit it and brush it off? Not much of a choice. Worse case, he tested me with X¡¯kk¡¯rrt. I¡¯d endured that before. I could do it again.

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    I wouldn¡¯t abandon the dream.

    ¡°You could say that,¡± I said. ¡°We talked often. He was having second thoughts about this. I still say we¡¯re pushing it too fast.¡±

    Gio gave me a sad little smile. ¡°Talking often is putting it mildly, the way some are talking. Same with Maria.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t trust everything out of Malachti¡¯s mouth,¡± I replied swiftly. ¡°Besides, you avoid the point. This wouldn¡¯t be an issue if you slowed things down some.¡±

    ¡°Am I the one avoiding a point?¡± Gio asked me. ¡°Still, Malvia, slowing down will only increase the chances of it being discovered. It already will move like molasses, and no matter what countermeasures we devise to discredit those who turn, eventually they will take it seriously. This is the fifth to actually make it to the Watch. Many more, and they¡¯ll start really prying. I have enough to deal with when Voltar gets involved.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve evaded him so far,¡± I pointed out. ¡°And the other safeguards are sufficient. They investigate the people we¡¯ve told the traitors are ours, they end up being clean, and the Watch buys into you being a boastful braggart exaggerating your reach to be a slightly more effective kingpin.¡±

    ¡°Yes, thank you Malvia, I¡¯m aware of my own plan,¡± he said, voice light. ¡°But that reaches a point where that¡¯s the impression I give off to people we want inside the organization. And the Quarter at large. Which may very well be why Devel has decided he can brush me off. And why I want that nipped in the bud before it becomes a problem.¡±

    The insistence on using the chemicals made more sense.

    ¡°I¡¯d still advise against it. Those are a weapon we can use effectively once before they realize we have it. The moment we do every Watch officer who has even the slightest chance of crossing our paths is going to have a filter mask ready on their belts.¡±

    "Perhaps," he said, grabbing an apple from a bowl in the room. His voice had a tone that made it clear that line of discussion was over.

    ¡°Skall can hear the Imp,¡± I told him, rolling up the bundle containing my tools.

    He paused, fangs halfway closed around the apple. ¡°You¡¯re certain?¡±

    ¡°Unless she was informed ahead of time and chose to make a random comment about it at precisely the right moment? Yes.¡±

    ¡°Well, then tonight wasn¡¯t a complete disaster,¡± he noted. ¡°She has no existing skills?¡±

    ¡°If she did, I doubt she would have needed my help,¡± I said, holding up one of my hands.

    I¡¯d washed them of course, but he¡¯d already heard a report from me and Golvar. I¡¯d never tried going for the eyes like that before. More effective than I initially thought.

    "You could have told me then,¡± Gio said, a lazy grin coming onto his face as he leaned back. ¡°Still nursing that grudge against Golvar aren¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not a grudge,¡± I denied flatly. ¡°He doesn¡¯t need to know yet. He doesn¡¯t need to know ever, if you want to play this safe. Besides, he¡¯s vindictive.¡±

    ¡°Like you aren¡¯t,¡± Versalicci replied. ¡°No matter your opinions on his methods, and whatever personal animosity has developed between you two, he has as much right to know every Diabolist in our ranks as you.¡±

    Blatantly false. Golvar couldn¡¯t cast, couldn¡¯t teach casting, mostly only benefitted by kicking Daver into gear. Mostly he tried convincing young novices, few that we had, into doing his dirty work for him. Then again, Skall hardly seemed intimidated by Golvar.

    ¡°Him and Daver?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Would you suggest anyone else to teach her?¡± Versalicci asked me.

    I had a few ideas.

    ***

    I had Maria¡¯s corpse on the table, what was left of it. Face smashed-in, head rendered to a pulp, the rest of her body was intact though.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Skall asked, sitting down on the stool, craning for a better look.

    It was probably rude to note that even sitting on it, she still had to strain to see what was going on. To be fair, the tables were ridiculously high. Apparently the only tables thick enough to support the occasional ogre corpse were ones built for ogres.

    Well, the only ones we could get our hands on.

    ¡°Maria has departed,¡± I said mechanically. ¡°Her soul is already on its way down to the Hells, there to be reborn. What¡¯s left up here is just meat, and something we can put to use for the same struggle she fought in life.¡±

    ¡°Yer carving her up for components.¡±

    I sighed. ¡°Crudely put, but yes, I am. You''re watching because you¡¯ll be expected to do it as well, once you get taught. Just be grateful your lessons aren¡¯t as painful as mine were.¡±

    From her expression, she probably thought physical pain. Hrrm, did she even have anyone she would have cared about sawing open?

    That had lost its horror for me soon after. Only so many times you could carve through flesh before it became just another thing you did.

    You learned not to care quickly, not when life was cheap

    For a better world, I thought, beginning to saw at Maria¡¯s arm.

    ***

    I jolted awake in my bed, a cry on my lips I immediately silenced.

    The intense urge to get up, to get out of these covers that had been comfortable but now felt like hands restraining me.

    I practically tore my way out of my sheets, stumbling through the dark as I felt something rising up from my gut. I made it to the sink just in time for what little I¡¯d eaten the day before to come back up.

    I gasped, and panted, a few last little remnants forcing their way up.

    I pumped water from the sink, splashing it cold right into my face. My stomach wrenched once again and I nearly puked again straight into the draining water.

    Nightmares. I wished. Memories are just as bad as nightmares. Between Tyler¡¯s lair and Skall¡¯s re-emergence, that particular set of memories haunting my dreams wasn¡¯t too strange.

    I¡¯d been such an idiot back then. Such a good little soldier for my brother. Such a good little fool.

    That feeling of sawing through Maria¡¯s neck¡­.I wasn¡¯t squeamish, hadn¡¯t been for a while, and in the end that corpse had just been meat, but the feeling¡­I shivered, and it wasn¡¯t from the cold.

    My hand felt a twinge of pain. That wasn¡¯t the leftover sign of my fight with Hawkins though, just another memory. Alice¡¯s reaction to me asking if she was part dwarf had been¡­well, at least she hadn¡¯t gone for my throat.

    The sun was rising, providing a welcome distraction from my thoughts. Not yet to the point where beams of sunlight were coming in through my window, but I could see its glow even behind the buildings across the street. Daylight soon.

    I breathed out slowly. I¡¯d mostly settled, and the urgent panic that woke me up dissipated. Hopefully, any more trips down memory lane went with it. Getting lost in memories of the past was just a distraction, and I couldn¡¯t afford any of those.

    Abducting those two last night, part of that had been worries about something sparking a fight, the other trying to wrest some way of determining the factors at play. And to avoid a knife in my back. Gregory, he wouldn''t kill me, but if some fool notion of capturing me had ventured inside his head, I did not want to be tied up anywhere near Bishop Gallaspie. And Melissa? Hells, she probably still nursed a grudge from the embarrassment of being rebuked for beating me up. But there was another reason.

    Versalicci and the religions of the empire were both mixed up in the same mess and with us fumbling blind. I''d been hasty making that decision, but since it was made, I might as well take advantage of it.

    I headed to my counter, grabbing a ¡°Closed¡± sign to hang up outside. Business would have to wait. I had two prisoners to interrogate first.

 Chapter 11 - Whisper VI

    Humming a little tune, I went down into the darkness of my cellar.

    An expansive one had come with the property, and I¡¯d expanded it since then, adding the proper airflow for a lab and dividing it into three parts. Lab, storage, and diabolist practicing chamber. I¡¯d put Gregory and Melissa in the latter.

    Bound to cause some worry and confusion when they wake up? Maybe, but the room was designed to contain diabolism, which would help with the one of them I expected to make the most fuss.

    I opened the door, carefully stepping over the boundaries I set up. Nothing as fancy as Father Reginald¡¯s setup, just some enchanted steel designed to cut off all magic that passed over it. Not very effective at stopping intentionally directed effects. Byproducts of practice sessions gone sour though? It worked nicely for those.

    For Melissa¡¯s diabolism, I¡¯d have to hope the diluted holy water I¡¯d poured down her throat worked. It would be painful when she woke up, and a hundred times worse if she used Diabolism until it was out of her system. Not ideal, but I wasn¡¯t letting a potentially hostile Diabolist have nearly free rein inside my shop.

    The entire room wasn¡¯t very pretty, just a big stone block with a metal door. Purely for practicing, and since I wasn¡¯t enough of a fool to try summoning or sacrifices the paraphernalia could be pared down to fitting inside my coat.

    I lit the room¡¯s single lamp, illuminating my two prisoners down below.

    I¡¯d put some distance between the two of them when I¡¯d put them down on these spare mattresses. Wouldn¡¯t do for either of them to wake up right next to each other. I couldn¡¯t guess if that would end with them trying to work together to escape, or trying to kill one another.

    Their hands were cuffed together, and those were nailed to a single ring I¡¯d installed in the middle, same for their leg irons. That was about all I¡¯d managed for security last night before going upstairs and passing out.

    Gregory first. Depending on how this conversation went, he might be out of chains before I started the second.

    His hair actually looked better like this than it did combed. Just the way it hung, brown locks framing his face.

    You are not going to kiss this one are you? The Imp suddenly interjected in my head, making me jump back to my hooves. He¡¯s a particularly worthless dandy, and sworn to a deity only slightly less terrible than the terrible sun-entity.

    ¡°Could you not?¡± I hissed at the Imp. Not for the first time I considered going and hunting down Versalicci just so he could change the contract on the thing or banish it.

    It is a serious concern. The Duke likely has a good match among his many-

    ¡°Of all the things I want to talk about, the thing that spawned me having some devil set aside I¡¯m expected to marry is actually below thinking I¡¯m going to kiss an unconscious person!¡±

    Unfortunately, my yelling seemed to have roused one of my prisoners from their sleep, and of course, it was Gregory.

    ¡°Five..five more minutes Bishop,¡± he muttered sleepily. ¡°I¡¯ll get the chorus whipped into shape this afternoon I swear.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, whips are definitely not getting used,¡± I remarked, and his eyes shot open.

    He fumbled with his chains only a little bit before he realized he was restrained, and only a second more looking about at everything around him. He settled into a cross-legged sitting position as I waited for him to get his bearings.

    ¡°You know, I¡¯ve been in compromising situations beforehand,¡± Gregory said with surprising calmness, although I could hear just a little quaver to his voice. ¡°But most of the time, I agreed to get in them.¡±

    ¡°Most of the time?¡± I asked, raising an eyebrow.

    ¡°Angry family members, angry exes,¡± he replied with that forced serenity. ¡°People angry over things beginning or ending.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t really qualify as any of that,¡± I said firmly. ¡°Nothing really started.¡±

    ¡°No, it did not. Malvia, why is there dried blood on my suit?¡±

    There was quite a bit of it, the entire front of it covered in stains from the body parts littering Tyler¡¯s basement. Honestly, I thought the splash of color made an already quite nice suit even nicer. Mind you, blood was a pain to get out, and it would smell, and you know what, that actually wasn¡¯t important.

    ¡°Because I didn¡¯t strip you while you slept?¡± I ventured. ¡°Seriously, what kind of person do you think I am, Gregory?¡±

    ¡°A person who is willing to bite into fingers and sacrifice people to summon devils,¡± he deadpanned.

    I bristled, then tried to force the tension out of me the moment after. Don¡¯t let him rile you Malvia, it¡¯s not worth it.

    ¡°Can we simply not with the sniping?¡± I asked him. ¡°You¡¯ve already complicated things enough, I don¡¯t¡­I¡¯m not having a discussion over that.¡±

    ¡°Okay,¡± he said with a sudden gentleness. ¡°I¡­that was rude of me. My apologies, Miss Harrow.¡±

    I grinned, just a little one. ¡°Aw, thank you. Mind you, I did kidnap you and interrupt your investigation, so maybe a little rudeness should be expected. But speaking of that investigation, what were you doing with Donald Tyler? I overheard something about Father Reginald owing him money. Guessing that is a trail you were following?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Gregory said after a moment of hesitation, gears clearly turning. ¡°It turns out our murderer was right in some regards about Father Reginald. When I went through his records, it turned out he owed quite a bit of money to Glee Street. Not just lost in the casino, but borrowed from a number of moneylenders, one of whom was Mr. Tyler. I don¡¯t necessarily think the murders were done by him, diabolism is a bit of overkill for not paying him back, and if he was keeping it secret from his superiors-¡°

    I let him get a few more steps into his lies about Father Reginald¡¯s supposedly gigantic gambling debt. I could guess what the actual reason for the owed money was. He had been buying from suppliers of Diabolism supplies, after all.

    ¡°This is about the combined church Diabolism program, isn¡¯t it?¡± I said, and his face went blank. ¡°Maybe Father Reginald did do some gambling on the side, but that¡¯s not why he owed Tyler money. He was trying to secure Diabolic supplies for the church program, wasn¡¯t he?¡±

    He closed his eyes for a few seconds, then opened then again, gaze intent. ¡°You made it into the practice chamber and warding room then. Clara swore she¡¯d hid the key and burnt all the correspondence.¡±

    ¡°She did,¡± I confirmed. ¡°An admirable job, but she had to contend with Voltar. Although the door being locked after she came out from it was going to pique his interest anyway. Be glad he decided to focus on the door instead of the girl.¡±

    ¡°Voltar doesn¡¯t torture people,¡± Gregory interrupted quietly.

    And suffers all the more for it.

    A retort was half-formed on my lip before I decided it wasn¡¯t worth arguing. ¡°Not what I meant. If he hadn¡¯t found the key I imagine it would have been the lock picks then the crowbar. And if those didn¡¯t work he¡¯d see about ferreting out the information out of Miss Lionel. Also, just a tip for the future, you didn¡¯t need to confirm it actually was a group. You could have played it off as rogue agents of the church. Albeit the sheer amount of holy sigils down there does make that-¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure it was all very clever,¡± Gregory said sarcastically, earning a scornful glare from me.

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t, but thank you, I need more deflating this time of the day. But in all seriousness, how much trouble are you in if it comes out you leaked this? Gallaspie already doesn¡¯t seem to like you.¡±

    ¡°He will. And would regardless. If he refuses to believe me when I tell him that you already knew? He can approach my superiors in my church and keep his suggestions I need to bathe in holy water inside that odious little block of cheese he calls a brain.¡±

    I couldn¡¯t help but grin a little.

    Perhaps the boy has some semblance of sense after all. Down with all worshippers of the suns.

    ¡°Alright. So the various religions of Avernorn and the Empire as a whole are funding a collective program into making their own Diabolists?¡±

    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    Gregory finally let out a little sigh, shoulders slumping in defeat. ¡°Keep in mind, I was only introduced to this program very recently.¡±

    ¡°At some point between the end of the shape-changer affair and now?¡±

    ¡°Yesterday morning.¡±

    I paused as I digested that. ¡°You mean after the murder?¡±

    ¡°On the carriage ride over,¡± he admitted. ¡°I arrived at the church early to assist Bishop Doylen for the celebrations later this week, when I found myself bundled into a carriage and asked to help with this. Told about it all. Well, about its existence. Bishop Doylen herself seemed to only know it existed and little else, and as for Father Reginald¡¯s former colleagues-¡°

    ¡°One of them already seems to hate you, and the other seems alright but is probably not willing to spill any more secrets to an outsider than necessary?¡± I guessed.

    ¡°You¡¯ve summed it up pretty well among the senior members,¡± he replied. ¡°The ones I know of anyway. I was told I was wanted because of my experience with Voltar. No one mentioned you being there.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure that must have come as a shock,¡± I said.

    ¡°A little unbalancing,¡± he admitted. ¡°I¡¯m sorry about earlier. I didn¡¯t handle any of that well, and while being thrown off by a string of revelations is disconcerting, it¡¯s no excuse for how I handled things.¡±

    ¡°Apology accepted,¡± I said. ¡°The diabolism program?¡±

    ¡°The bishops can give more details,¡± he started, before swiftly continuing upon seeing my expression. ¡°But since they might not cooperate, my understanding was that it was being pursued to do research on the diabolic. There have been worries ever since well, not to be awkward but your brother¡¯s activities. Some in the church have been arguing it could have resulted in a crisis on the same level as Her Most Profane Majesty.¡±

    ¡°That was never going to happen,¡± I said flatly. ¡°We never were going to get that far. Hells, he barely managed to get people into key positions of the city bureaucracy willing to take orders before the entire thing started falling apart. It took a month for Voltar to expose the first of them?¡±

    ¡°From the inside, I¡¯m sure it looked more fragile than on the outside,¡± Gregory said. ¡°I wasn¡¯t there firsthand to know about it as it happened. All I knew is that there were riots in the Quarter that required the army¡¯s intervention. For those who did know? An Infernal who was willing to summon devils and had multiple diabolists working for him nearly took over the city without anyone knowing. There were fears of opening a permanent portal to the Hells, multiple ones even.¡±

    ¡°It never would have happened,¡± I assured him. ¡°Versalicci never cared for the Hells or for Infernals. He only cared about personal power, and personal power he controlled. An army from the Hells taking over he¡¯d then have to answer to? He never would have risked that.¡±

    The son is distrustful, The Imp whispered. Power is all he craves, but never when another stands to benefit, not if it means one higher on the ladder than him. Admirable if he was in the Hells. Definitely something to be arranged, if you have the mettle for it.

    ¡°I¡¯ll trust you know your brother better than I do. I¡¯ve never met him, and from what I¡¯ve heard I never want to meet him. But still, you could understand why it would spark worries. The diabolism program? It¡¯s there mostly so we could start research into the Hells, and what was going on down there.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a whole wealth of literature on Diabolism,¡± I said. ¡°It exists, I¡¯ve tried getting my hands on some of it, and mostly failed, but it¡¯s there. And I know some churches hold onto quite a bit of it, especially Halspus.¡±

    ¡°Old literature,¡± Gregory noted. ¡°And that¡¯s what was preserved. A lot was well, burnt. But even if there was a concerted effort to preserve said literature, it¡¯s spread across a lot of places, including the Imperial Archives where the royal family is not letting anyone without their approval examine it, the different churches, and then the private collectors. People who just happen to have a book on the diabolic arts in their attic.¡±

    Of course the sun god¡¯s lackeys burnt it, The Imp hissed in my head. Permanently sealing off the Hells is all they care about, denying us proper congress and trade.

    Well, it was possible both of those things happened to cross between the Hells and this world, I suspected both got overshadowed by the violence sent both ways.

    ¡°Run across a few of those?¡± I asked him.

    ¡°Only one. It was enough to leave a nasty impact on me in my youth.¡±

    Huh. He had never explicitly said anything about it, but I¡¯d always thought I¡¯d been his first brush with Diabolism. I wanted to ask about that attic, but since he was talking what I needed him to, I held my tongue.

    ¡°It¡¯s also old,¡± Gregory continued. ¡°Diabolists were always rather secretive with what they discovered to begin with, and after the downfall of Her Most Profane Majesty? Nothing. The Hells are entire layers of worlds, we¡¯ve barely scratched the surface on what is down here. Usually the portals open to specific parts of the Hells, but there are other places down there, we know from a few of the accounts. Places even deeper that normally can¡¯t be accessed from here. Even in the places that are easily reachable for most diabolists, there are devils that show up and no one has ever encountered their kind before. Getting ready for that was part of the program¡¯s goal. At least what I was told.¡±

    ¡°Having a secret weapon that no one, not even the empire, would suspect you of having, sounds pretty good for another goal,¡± I opined, and he nodded glumly.

    ¡°Neither of them said as much, but it¡¯s not hard to see that as a reason,¡± he said. ¡°They also insisted they are the only two bishops involved which I doubt.¡±

    ¡°Too balanced of a leadership pool,¡± I noted. ¡°Deadlock. So there¡¯s a third vote?¡±

    "At a minimum,¡± Gregory replied. ¡°Gallaspie sees my involvement as an unwelcome intrusion. Derrick is more welcoming, but it¡¯s clear neither of them appreciates me being foisted on them. However, if they think Tarver is not going to have one of his mortal servants involved in¡­.that, they will learn to regret that.¡±

    I was a little flabbergasted. That level of vitriol I¡¯d heard before but, well, aimed at me, and even that had felt like a chilly breeze compared to the icy cold in his words. A thought that I should have had before now finally arose from my brain.

    ¡°You and Father Reginald were close?¡± I guessed, asking carefully.

    ¡°A little,¡± he admitted. ¡°We didn¡¯t meet regularly, and he didn¡¯t recruit me into the church, but when a young boy needed reassurance if he just disappeared someone would care? He was there. And helped make sure that fate would never occur.¡±

    My eyes widened a little. Gregory had hinted about how frosty his relationship with his shitheel of a father was before. And there was no denying the love lost when his father intended for him to die via Shape-changer assassination attempt. Still, for one to be that young when it happened.

    I waited for him to elaborate, but he moved past it.

    ¡°Seeing him warped into that perversion did upset me,¡± he said. ¡°The two bishops though¡­you should know Gallaspie hates you for what you did with Bishop Strevans.¡±

    It took a second to place that name. ¡°The shape-changer? He¡¯s irritated we found someone who was masquerading as Bishop Strevans?¡±

    ¡°As far as he is concerned, Bishop Strevans was a devout worshipper of Halspus regardless of her actual identity, and her expulsion from the church without more concrete evidence of involvement in their plot.¡±

    ¡°Interesting,¡± I mused. Perhaps Bishop Gallaspie had been directly involved in that series of agitations in the Quarter during that time.

    ¡°Gallaspie is there to keep an eye on the entire thing,¡± Gregory told me. ¡°When they were putting this together, Halspus¡¯ church was the largest repository of Diabolic information they could negotiate access to. The cost of that was Gallaspie joins as one of the bishops involved with the project and gets complete oversight on everything.¡±

    ¡°Why bishops?¡±

    Gregory paused, clearly taken aback at my interjection. ¡°Sorry?¡±

    ¡°Bishops,¡± I repeated. ¡°It¡¯s all different religions, why wouldn¡¯t there be different ranks for each of them? Especially the ones not under the central pantheon?¡±

    ¡°I¡­you don¡¯t know?¡± Gregory asked incredulously. ¡°They are different ranks, it¡¯s just that the Empire demands that the public-facing ranks be as uniform as possible. Makes their paperwork tidier. And was tilted in favor of Halspus¡¯ church since most of them use the rank structure the Empire pushes us towards adopting. You didn¡¯t know this?¡±

    ¡°Xang¡¯s followed a very different religion and didn¡¯t have much faith in foreign deities,¡± I told him defensively. ¡°And then I was in the Quarter, where it was either Halspus¡¯ priests trying to police or persecute us, and occasionally another deity trying to make inroads before they had their efforts frustrated by the Halspustians, the Watch, or groups like the Flame. My religious education can best be summed up as nothing local, followed by occasional points at us as evidence of the corruption in man¡¯s heart when they brought worshippers to the outskirts of the Quarter to pray at us.¡±

    ¡°Point taken,¡± he said. ¡°Bishop is a leadership position senior enough that it can be trusted they speak for their church. Bishop Derrick seems more invested in the program as a whole. She¡¯s the one who talked Gallaspie out of not immediately trying to throw you all out of the church initially, and she¡¯s more interested in-¡±

    ¡°You can save it for Voltar,¡± I said, fishing my key out of my coat. ¡°Save your throat some effort, and maybe we can convince those two to just tell him themselves.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± he said disbelievingly. ¡°You¡¯re letting me go?¡±

    You¡¯re letting him go? The Imp shrieked. Surely just a nibble, just a taste, a bit of skin, a trickle of blood. Do not even deny you want it!

    Amazingly, having that echoing inside my head nearly made me fumble the keys to the cuffs. ¡°Shut up,¡± I hissed.

    Before a confused Gregory could say anything I added ¡°Not you. Do you want me to put you back to sleep? You¡¯ve been on good behavior but that doesn¡¯t buy you any leeway if you start making comments like that.¡±

    Bah, you shame your father!

    ¡°Did you ever say what kind of imp is inside your head?¡± Gregory asked. ¡°Because if you did it has slipped my mind.¡±

    ¡°Gluttony,¡± I said irritably. ¡°And it¡¯s a greedy little one too. Anyway, unless someone wants to risk their weekly cow ration, they will be quiet unless what they bring up is relevant to the case.¡±

    ¡°The cow thing is regular?¡± Gregory asked. ¡°I uh, sorry. It¡¯s none of my business.¡±

    Of course, I had to say the one thing to remind the both of us of that incident.

    I took the lack of interjection from the Imp as confirmation it was done talking and went back to fit the key into Gregory¡¯s handcuffs.

    ¡°So, you are just letting me go?¡±

    I nodded, putting the key to the cuffs. ¡°Knocking you out was more¡­.well, I suppose seeing where things stood. Not between us, but the Church and Voltar. Besides, I could only imagine the uproar if it came out I was keeping you in my basement.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not the strangest place I¡¯ve been discovered,¡± he admitted with a grin. ¡°One day I was forced to spend the better part of the afternoon and evening locked into a wardrobe.¡±

    I was about to ask about that when suddenly I heard the sound of someone knocking on my door loudly.

    ¡°Shite,¡± I said, looking up at the ceiling with a frown. ¡°With my luck with visitors recently, I should probably answer that.¡±

    The hammering on the door only grew louder as I moved towards the door.

    ¡°Do me a favor?¡± I asked Gregory, pointing over at the probably pretending to sleep Melissa. ¡°Keep an eye on her while I handle this. Don¡¯t wake her up, don¡¯t venture close, don¡¯t assume she¡¯s sleeping, and definitely don¡¯t let her out. Black Flame, and also mixed up in this, I think.¡±

    He nodded, moving towards the door, while I went up to see who the Hells it was this time.

    How much was the truth? Not out of personal animosity for Gregory, I couldn''t ignore that possibility just because he was being somewhat friendly again. Loyalties, loyalties, where did they lie? With family, religion, or the other churches?

    For now what he said was close enough for me to accept those words, as I moved to see who was still hammering at my door.

    Of course it was Holmsteader. And she''d brought friends.

 Chapter 12 - Whisper VII

    Holmsteader didn¡¯t look too out of the ordinary if you ignored the scar.

    She looked younger than I expected, not much older than me, colored pale green, with a long scar running next to her eye down to her jaw, and skin turned white along its surface. As pale as her skin was, a scar shouldn¡¯t leech all the color out.

    Holmsteader wore a fetching dress of teal ending just above her ankles that I looked at through the peephole with jealously. It even had ruffles. When you had to spend money on clothes resistant to burning and acid, and ones for prowling about at night, the clothing budget tended to not cover nice dresses as often. Or at all.

    I still had mine from Lord Montague¡¯s party, and that was it.

    Two toughs flanked her, blue and crimson respectively, one of them idly cleaning his fingernails with a knife. I was almost tempted to open the door just to lecture him both about health hazards and walking cliches. Given the size of the knife, it was shocking he hadn¡¯t cut his finger open yet.

    I could keep the door shut. This had to be Holmsteader. Either that or I¡¯d irritated some other female gang boss who¡¯d decided to bring muscle. At a bare minimum, the snow was still out there; the sun taking its sweet time melting it. A few minutes in the cold to pay for the pain they were sure to be.

    I didn¡¯t have much choice, though. This was the courteous side being shown first, instead of the discourteous side if I didn¡¯t open my door. Who knew how many of her gang might be lurking out there, waiting for the right order to either lay siege to my shop or directly assault it.

    Besides, I actually had to live here. Having Holmsteader convinced I was blowing her off would have consequences. So, with a quiet sigh, I put on my best smile and opened the door.

    ¡°Good morning! While we are closed, I am delighted to make an exception for you, Miss Holmsteader.¡±

    ¡°See?¡± the woman said to her two bodyguards. ¡°I told you she would open the door if we knocked first.¡±

    ¡°Truth be told, Miss Holmsteader,¡± I said. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t normally, but you¡¯re one of the first surprises in the past day that has bothered to knock first. Although surprise might be an exaggeration, I anticipated you coming.¡±

    ¡°Aw, did you?¡± She said with a smile that bled sugar.

    I inclined my head. ¡°I humbly apologize for coming to your section of the Quarter last night without checking first, but I figured you would not appreciate my presence. I also wish to make clear I am not operating under the orders of Giovanni Versalicci, simply confirming rumours I heard and took an interest in. Ah, and one more thing.¡±

    She seemed somewhat taken aback for a second, but quickly regained her composure and that sickly sweet smile. ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°Between circumstantial evidence and my own suspicions, I believe one of your employees may be involved in the disappearances of several people, and may use diabolism to arrange this. At least to keep track of them. Nothing concrete yet, but I believe a Donald Tyler has been hooking your temporary laborers with diabolic tracking spells. Not entirely sure, he seems to be the only person who has been around them long enough to hook a spell like that in place. I could be wrong, or you could fully know Mr. Tyler¡¯s activities, but it seemed pertinent to inform you. I should have sent a letter. While I would understand not wanting me to look into the veracity of that, I would suggest at least looking into-¡±

    ¡°Mr. Tyler is dead,¡± Holmsteader said, and one tough deliberately reached for something within his coat. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Melodramatic a tad? ¡°Which is precisely why I want to talk to you. Where were you last night?¡±

    I pretended to eye the outside carefully and noted a few suspicious-looking figures out in the street who I hadn¡¯t seen before. Still couldn¡¯t be sure about them being Holmsteaders. The one on a roof crouched near a chimney, covered up to resemble a pile of bricks more than a living person? They probably were Holmsteaders.

    ¡°Are you sure you want to discuss it in the open?¡± I asked her. ¡°This seems a conversation best held indoors. Where it¡¯s warm?¡±

    She considered it for a second, balancing the possibility of a trap with the fact that it was frigid out there.

    ¡°Certainly. Just inside?¡±

    ¡°If you wouldn¡¯t mind,¡± I said, already moving from the door towards my counter. ¡°Hands off the merchandise, unless you want to make a purchase. Tea? I need to brew a cup, anyway.¡±

    ¡°No thank you,¡± Holmsteader replied, probably not wanting to risk poison. Smart. I¡¯d have to skip on the hemlock. One of her toughs closed the door behind her as they fanned around the room. She actually was browsing, looking among the various herbal wares and potions on display. ¡°Seems less than what I expected, to be honest.¡±

    ¡°Well, ingredients are expensive, and licenses more so,¡± I said. ¡°And just because the Watch doesn¡¯t come here rarely means I¡¯m willing to risk being sent to the Coffin.¡±

    ¡°One would think you¡¯d no longer be at risk of that,¡± she noted, and I didn¡¯t fail to notice how the two thugs were trying to get on opposite sides of me as I set a pot of boiling water on my stove. ¡°Does working for Voltar not offer much in the ways of protection?¡±

    ¡°Alliances do not make monoliths,¡± I noted. ¡°Especially when one¡¯s line of work often involves showing up said allies. I imagine more than a few members of the Watch resent Voltar solving cases they struggled with, taking all the public glory, and walking over them. My association transfers some of that to me, and that¡¯s not even beginning to discuss our shared history before all of that. But we weren¡¯t talking about that.¡±

    Her smile was just as friendly, but her eyes were hard now as I broke out a teacup, grabbing a few leaves from one of my storage cupboards.

    ¡°What were you doing on Glee Street last night, Miss Harrow?¡±

    ¡°Investigating,¡± I answered. ¡°But more specifically, looking into a string of disappearances pointed out by Versalicci. Not the most reliable of sources, nor is our relationship anything I consider friendly, but unfortunately, ignoring him is not an option I have. Spent all the evening confirming the disappearances, talking with the various people on the outskirt of your territory. Discovered that someone was using Diabolic spells to keep track of them and came back home. Diabolists aren¡¯t something one should leap into confronting unprepared.¡±

    ¡°So you deny going to Donald Tyler¡¯s house,¡± she said in a careful, measured tone. ¡°You did not shoot him, you did not break into his cellar, any of that?¡±

    I poured hot water into my pot over the grill containing my tea leaves, then set it aside to steep.

    ¡°I could have,¡± I admitted, turning around the face her, my gaze firm. ¡°And the ways I could convince you it wasn¡¯t me are rather thin. On the other hand, why is it me?¡±

    ¡°You seemed quite certain it was Mr. Tyler,¡± she said.

    ¡°He was the first on the list of suspects because he¡¯s the only common name that came up,¡± I said. ¡°The spell that was being used to track them needs to be affixed to its target. I was going to determine if it was him or not tonight. I suppose that¡¯s pointless now.¡±

    ¡°The watcher I have posted near his house was choked out,¡± she commented. ¡°The last thing he could remember seeing was a blue arm choking him out.¡±

    I inclined my head at her left bodyguard, his own blue skin just a shade lighter than my own.

    ¡°While the classical red seems most common among us, blue is hardly uncommon.¡±

    ¡°That is true,¡± she said. ¡°I suppose most of the evidence is circumstantial. Including the alchemy we found on the site.¡±

    I yawned. I didn¡¯t even need to fake it. I felt tired, and this blatant interrogation was only making me tire faster.

    ¡°What is it?¡± I asked, ignoring the glares of the two toughs and the slight cracking of her facade.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure myself,¡± she said cheerily. ¡°All I know is that it knocked my watcher out!¡±

    ¡°Well, if you¡¯d brought a sample, I could maybe help you,¡± I said. ¡°Check my records, see if I sold any fast working knockout air-delivered chemicals. I know a few that would do the trick myself, but again, without a sample, I couldn¡¯t say for sure. We can check my stores, I can show you my notes, but then again, I could have just as easily fabricated them.¡±

    ¡°You aren¡¯t helping the case that it isn¡¯t you, are you?¡± Holmsteader said, grin fading. I¡¯m sure gears were turning inside her head on why I wasn¡¯t even bothering with hard evidence on it not being me.

    ¡°The circumstantial evidence against me is quite a large array,¡± I said. ¡°Denying that would be foolish. The question is, am I the target you want to set your eyes on?¡±

    Because unless she had been using Tyler¡¯s services as a diabolist, I¡¯d just done Holmsteader a service. I hadn¡¯t even done it in a way that challenged her authority unless she went public with the details, which she had no reason to.

    A muffled grunt from downstairs, followed by the sound of something hitting the floor. Shite.

    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    Holmsteader raised an eyebrow as she looked down at the floorboards.

    ¡°I¡¯m entertaining a couple of friends,¡± I said. ¡°I sent them downstairs. It seemed more convenient for everyone involved.¡±

    ¡°Really? One of them wouldn¡¯t happen to be Gregory Montague, would it?¡±

    My nail scratched across the surface of the teacup with a painful screech. My expression flickered as I winced, then pulled my hand back into my lap, putting on my best grin.

    The wince wasn¡¯t entirely theatrics. I hated I had to scratch a perfectly good teacup just to sell that.

    ¡°Gregory Montague,¡± I said, forcing a smile as much as I could. ¡°I wasn¡¯t aware he had visited Glee Street last night. Did he come to any harm?¡±

    ¡°Not that I¡¯m aware of,¡± Holmsteader said, watching me closely.

    ¡°Pity. I¡¯d have loved for someone to clip his wings, but the world can be such a disappointment in that regard. If you suspect he¡¯s down there, you¡¯re welcome to look?¡±

    She wouldn¡¯t, and both she and I knew that. Downstairs, in a place I could have prepared, with only her and the two toughs? Instead of here on the ground floor, where someone could have a rifle trained on me through a window? Nope.

    ¡°I¡¯ll pass. I think we¡¯re done here.¡± Her eyes narrowed, that smile finally turning into a frown. ¡°Don¡¯t let me ever catch you on Glee Street, Miss Harrow.¡±

    I smiled sweetly back, hand firmly on the revolver. ¡°Don¡¯t let me catch you inside my store again, Miss Holmsteader.¡±

    She and her goons didn¡¯t even bother browsing, leaving my door with a nasty slam that made it shake. I needed to get a big, heavy one when I had the spare money. One that could withstand a battering ram if needed.

    It didn¡¯t take long to get downstairs as quickly as I could, opening the door to my practice chamber to see Gregory sitting on the same stool.

    ¡°What was that noise?¡± I asked, glancing over at Melissa. She still seemed to be asleep, having not moved an inch since I¡¯d gone upstairs.

    ¡°Got tired of sitting, tried pacing, forgot the stool was there,¡± Gregory said, shying away as I turned my gaze to him. ¡°Bad timing with whoever was upstairs?¡±

    ¡°That was the former Mister Taylor¡¯s employer,¡± I said. ¡°Here to find out if I killed him. Tssk, it seems I¡¯ve been banned from Glee Street without having ever been there. Probably you as well, Gregory.¡±

    ¡°Once was enough,¡± he replied immediately. ¡°I¡¯ve seen a dozen streets like it. They¡¯re all the same. There are a few unique features to each, but honestly, it¡¯s the first one to utilize a gibbet for flavor. She just left?¡±

    ¡°I think she got what she wanted,¡± I said. ¡°Or as much as she hoped to get. She can¡¯t confirm things one way or another, but she probably thinks she¡¯s guessed close enough. Did my other guest do anything?¡±

    ¡°Not really,¡± Gregory said. ¡°I think she stirred a few times, but she hasn¡¯t done much. It¡¯s not a faked sleep either, either that or she has really excellent breath control.¡±

    ¡°Well, we¡¯re about to find out,¡± I said, then stepped on her tail.

    Melissa woke up with a yelp of pain, cursing me and the world in general as she struggled against her restraints.

    ¡°Harrow, you¡¯ll pay for this. I swear on my-¡±

    The revolver¡¯s hammer clicked as I pulled it back, and Melissa went quiet.

    ¡°Sorry?¡± I said, finger on the trigger guard for now. ¡°You wanted to say something?¡±

    ¡°Must you do that?¡±

    I turned my attention to Gregory, who was looking on uncomfortably. ¡°Gregory, the last time Melissa and I were alone when she wasn¡¯t under the supervision of an adult, she beat me till the point my jaw broke and I couldn¡¯t even speak. All because she felt her pride got wounded. Oh, and me leaving the Flame.¡±

    Melissa hissed, but she didn¡¯t say anything, her eyes locked onto the muzzle of the gun. Gregory still seemed uncomfortable, but didn¡¯t look like he would interfere.

    ¡°The boss will have me out of here soon enough,¡± she whined, expression sullen.

    I shrugged. ¡°The boss might, he might not. You admitted you went behind his back on this one, so he might not even know you¡¯re here. He might not even know you went to Glee Street. The fact of the matter is once he does, I doubt he¡¯s going to be happy. He doesn¡¯t like people acting against his orders, and even if he¡¯s not said a single word about not doing this, I can guess what his reaction would be to you potentially starting a fight with Holmsteader.¡±

    She scowled, defiance building back up behind her eyes.

    ¡°He sent you there-¡± she started.

    ¡°I¡¯m an ex-member,¡± I stated. ¡°Something he will play up if I ever do anything that puts his hide at risk and play down whenever he needs to pressure me to do something. You? He¡¯s not got as many options as playing the ¡®she left my gang years ago. I do not know what she was doing. Feel free to go after her.¡¯ You, he actually has to make amends for what you do, and that comes out of your pocket and hides. Hide being quite literal, although he favors heads if you screw up badly enough.¡±

    ¡°He wouldn¡¯t-¡°

    ¡°He would, but that¡¯s besides the point,¡± I interrupted. ¡°You clearly felt the need to investigate Tyler on your own, and clearly something related to diabolism. Something that has got you worried enough to go behind Versalicci¡¯s back. Something that you think needs to be handled, and the boss has the wrong solution. So, what was it?¡±

    ¡°Does he have to be here for this?¡± Melissa said, looking over at Gregory, pulling further away as he gave her a friendly smile.

    ¡°Yes, he does,¡± I said. ¡°Turns out Mr. Tyler is in some way mixed up with the church murder yesterday morning.¡±

    ¡°Church murder?¡±

    She seemed genuinely puzzled by the statement, and I was a little at a loss for words. Did she not read the newspaper? Any of them-no, no, there wouldn¡¯t have been enough time for them to carry the story. Even if an evening edition had been put out, would she have read it before sneaking out to Glee Street?

    ¡°There was a Priest of Tarver killed in his church,¡± I said. ¡°One connected to Mr. Tyler. One who was murdered with diabolism. Enough to deconsecrate the church itself.¡±

    Her eyes widened for half a second before she got control of them, forcing them to narrow.

    ¡°That¡­how related could that be?¡± she asked.

    ¡°I think that¡¯s for us to determine, miss,¡± Gregory said brightly. ¡°Ideally, we¡¯d all pool our information together, and get this solved real fast.¡±

    I raised my eyebrow at that. I suppose he had said he wasn¡¯t in favor of keeping the existence of the Diabolism program from us, but still.

    ¡°If you think I¡¯m going to share anything incriminating with him, let alone you, your brains have rotted since you left,¡± Melissa snapped at me.

    ¡°Considering I left before you ever joined,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯d consider you a poor judge of that. But it¡¯s either us or someone else. Do you think the Watch can¡¯t eventually get answers out of you? The church?¡±

    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t hand me over to the Halspus church,¡± she said, a slight quaver on that faked confidence.

    ¡°Ordinarily no,¡± I said. ¡°However, I am even less inclined to have another excuse handed off, leading to them targeting the Quarter as a whole. Besides, they aren¡¯t the only church tied up in this. Honestly, there are half dozen others I¡¯d try first who¡¯d be better at it.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re asking me to betray Versalicci,¡± she hissed.

    ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m asking for you to give us something where he¡¯s less likely to be a suspect. Because the timing is rather suspicious.¡±

    ¡°He directed you to Tyler,¡± she said, idly playing with the cuffs. Trying to make sure the links were obscuring whatever she was doing. My tail grabbed the links in the middle, pulling it forward. Her forehead pressed against the muzzle of my revolver.

    ¡°Yes, he did, and at what a convenient time as well. Right when diabolic murderers started happening, the person most likely to be first suspected provides information leading to one rogue diabolist getting caught right after. Almost as if he knew what was going to happen, and was setting up a fall person. Or if a rogue element of his organization committed the murders, and he needs to cut all links between him and them as quickly as possible. Versalicci is already on people¡¯s mind after the shape-changer incident, Melissa. Who would you wager will get suspected first for the killing?¡±

    ¡°He had nothing to do with the shape-changers!¡± she protested, pulling back.

    ¡°You and I know that,¡± I corrected. ¡°But everyone else? Even people who were there for most of it probably have their own suspicions. Gregory?¡±

    He seemed startled to suddenly be a participant in this, but recovered quickly. ¡°I can¡¯t comment. I never knew enough about the Flame til the end, and even then I only looked into a few specific things. My father, though, remained convinced it was some kind of Black Flame plot for quite a while, and still is.¡±

    I raised an eyebrow, choosing to ignore how those few specific things were probably my criminal record. ¡°He thinks the Black Flame was responsible? He was the one controlling things towards the end.¡±

    ¡°Well, there are appearances to be met. He¡¯s hardly going to admit that in public.¡±

    ¡°Point stands,¡± I told Melissa. ¡°There are people who will blame Versalicci regardless of if he did it. Or even if there¡¯s hard evidence. He¡¯s not very popular with the authorities, to begin with, so it¡¯s easy to point the finger at him. So we need something for why he¡¯s not mixed up with this. Concrete evidence can wait later. Right now I need to know why I shouldn¡¯t suspect Versalicci?¡±

    She remained silent, and I sighed, maybe a touch too dramatically.

    ¡°Melissa, clearly something happened. Tyler didn¡¯t kill Father Reginald. He ran a very tight ship specifically picking off people no one would notice missing. Eventually, someone did, but there¡¯s a leap between killing enough of the vagrants in Glee Street people can actually tell, and murdering a priest and deconsecrating a church in Belton of all places.¡±

    ¡°Nothing ever happens in Belton,¡± Gregory commented. ¡°Last time I was there the fact someone had brought their cow from the country with them was the piece of local gossip.¡±

    ¡°Precisely,¡± I said, as Melissa¡¯s expression turned stony. ¡°And someone did a flashy murder, whose consequences led to a Diabolically possessed statue pulping an awful lot of people into a paste. We¡¯re barely a month past the last near-riots against the Quarter, and that ended in gunpowder. People will already assume the worst, so-¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a deal,¡± Melissa said, looking up at me, her gaze firm. ¡°I never heard it, but it¡¯s there.¡±

    I paused. Deal. Shite.

    ¡°I¡¯m assuming not some kind of trade of goods and services?¡± Gregory asked me.

    ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°Devil¡¯s deal. And when it¡¯s being offered from the other side, it¡¯s unusual. Usually, the diabolist approaches the devil. How many heard it in the Flame?¡±

    ¡°All of them,¡± Melissa said. ¡°All of the Flame¡¯s diabolists.¡±

    I froze. All of them? All of them offered a deal? Lower level devils might be desperate to make deals, but they¡¯d need a diabolist to bore a hole to the Hells to communicate, for a devil to communicate. Versalicci needed me just to talk with the creature that spawned us, so a devil able to reach through the other way into Anglea¡­

    More powerful than the Master. The Imp confirmed in my head.

    Damnations, what had Alice said when she¡¯d snuck in here and held me at gunpoint? ¡®Got a little whisper in my ear on the way in that¡¯s tempting me first.¡¯ Not just the Black Flame. How far did it extend?

    What archdevil was behind this?

    ¡°Who''s offering it?¡± I asked her. ¡°Name, rank, what sin they might associate with?¡±

    ¡°I already told you,¡± Melissa said tiredly. ¡°I never heard it. Some of the others talked about it because they didn¡¯t realize I hadn¡¯t.¡±

    I froze. A thought occurred to me. One I did not like entertaining, both because of the implications it had for me, and the implications involving Melissa.

    ¡°Gregory,¡± I said quietly. ¡°Could you wait upstairs for just a minute?¡±

    He looked quizzically at me. ¡°Malvia, are you sure? If this involves Father Regi-¡°

    ¡°It does relate to it,¡± I interrupted firmly. ¡°But you¡¯ve already heard the relevant parts. What¡¯s left doesn¡¯t just fail to add anything to solving the case, it is private. If it is, I¡¯ll tell you. So, please?¡±

    He seemed reluctant, but eventually left the room, shutting the door behind him. And to my enhanced hearing, went all the way up the stairs.

    ¡°I understand why I didn¡¯t hear the offer,¡± I muttered. ¡°It¡¯s why I never hear any offers. I¡¯m claimed, a direct descendant of a royal line of the Hells. You don¡¯t offer your rivals'' scions deals, and you don¡¯t offend allies or subordinates by doing anything that may claim their bloodlines¡¯ souls. If you''re lower rank than them, especially don¡¯t do this or you might get eaten. Or worse, they inform the devil who spawned them, so you just don¡¯t contact anyone who is truly half-blooded. And I only know one who''s been able to sneak into Anglea in the last century to spread their line.¡±

    The Imp cackled in my brain, but I ignored it, and focused on Melissa.

    She seemed tired as she mutely nodded, then considered her cuffs for a time before speaking up.

    ¡°Brother will be angry, that I helped you figure it out. He was hoping to hold it secret for at least a while longer, Sister.¡±

 Chapter 13 - Whisper VIII

    Breathe in. Breathe out.

    This¡­this wasn¡¯t relevant. Outside of a reason for her not to hear the whisper. Something to be ignored. For now at least. Later, there would be time to think about it.

    ¡°You could be lying,¡± I noted. ¡°About not hearing the whisper. Or even just being another spawn of that thing. There are other reasons you might not have heard it.¡±

    ¡°That thing is our parent,¡± Melissa said reproachfully. ¡°They gave us life, and they-¡°

    ¡°Abandoned us in a country that hates us from birth, only bothers communicating when we advance their goals, and never shows the slightest sign of caring for us outside of it,¡± I countered. ¡°All we got from it is Diabolism and a bloodline that more often makes us foes than friends. And even that former gift? It is only a gift if you use it right.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a gift,¡± she snapped. ¡°Just as much as divine magic used by priests is a gift from the other side.¡±

    ¡°Divine magic doesn¡¯t intentionally leak corruption and portals out of an intense desire to break into the world,¡± I said. ¡°But we¡¯re skipping a crucial step. Why should I believe you¡¯re my half-sister?¡±

    ¡°Do I gain anything from admitting it?¡± she said, staring defiantly up at me.

    Yes, even if she might not know it. Versalicci did, damn him.

    ¡°Okay,¡± I said quietly. ¡°I might not believe you, but it¡¯s¡­not relevant to the immediate situation. What happened regarding this deal offered?¡±

    She hesitated.

    ¡°I already know enough to guess some of it,¡± I said. ¡°Some of the diabolists decided to take this deal? Got in a fight with Versalicci over it?¡±

    ¡°Almost all of them,¡± she admitted. ¡°I only knew because some of the ringleaders, Mitchell and Frawks, started talking to me about it. They don¡¯t know about the bloodline. They were trying to recruit, said they¡¯d talked to Daver and he told them off, said the boss would decide. They just said they wanted as many as possible to talk to the boss.¡±

    ¡°Not the case?¡± I ventured.

    ¡°Daver died,¡± she told me, the words spilling out, nearly talking over herself. ¡°Because of this. I¡­I can¡¯t say for sure, but I can¡¯t think what else it might have been. Gio was furious, and it didn¡¯t take long to figure out who did it. Issue is, they were all gone.¡±

    I breathed in. Daver dead. I wouldn¡¯t miss the drunken diabolist a lot, but he had taught me, and helped me. Even if help took the form of talking a young girl into sawing off the head of her friend¡¯s corpse.

    That could be dwelt on later. The other thing was more important.

    ¡°So,¡± I said quietly. ¡°We have how many Diabolists roaming around, trying to enact some deal with an archduke of the Hells?¡±

    Melissa clammed up some, drawing back in on herself after the sudden outpouring of information.

    ¡°Keeping quiet on this isn¡¯t helping anyone,¡± I told her. ¡°I knew he still had diabolists from the time he had me summon the Duke. Pieces of demons were too fresh. And it¡¯s not like it¡¯s hard for new diabolists to come about, it¡¯s just hard for us to keep hidden. At this point, limiting the damage this causes is going to help the most, especially if it¡¯s taken as a sign of Versalicci offering help in good faith.¡±

    ¡°He already did,¡± she said quietly.

    ¡°He sent me after a rumour that he provided little information on,¡± I said. ¡°There¡¯s a good chance it could have ended in me fighting Holmsteader, or poking around for a week before I found anything leading to Donald Tyler. And then? I haven¡¯t looked through what I grabbed from his house, but how was I supposed to put together that several of his diabolist had gone rogue?¡±

    ¡°How did you you realize there was a deal going on so fast?¡± Melissa asked in response, getting a little fire back in her eyes.

    ¡°Alice Skall,¡± I told her. ¡°Here at Versalicci¡¯s invitation who decided to break into my house and hold me at gunpoint.¡±

    ¡°Oh, that must have been so distressing,¡± Melissa deadpanned, staring at the revolver still in my hand.

    ¡°Oh shush, only people with guns are allowed to be snarky,¡± I told her. ¡°Still, another Diabolist, here at our brother¡¯s request. Alice breaks in because her name got dragged into the shape-changer mess, she ends up talking to me trying to find out if it was my idea, and then later she mentions having a little whisper in her ear tempting her. Donald Tyler was working on something that demanded a lot of souls that he was collecting. Not necessarily the deal, but now I wish I¡¯d dragged the summoning circle he fed them to out of that house.¡±

    ¡°Seems way too many corpses to have been gathered that fast,¡± Melissa said soberly.

    ¡°Depends on if he had help,¡± I noted, thinking back on it. ¡°When did Versalicci notice people missing?¡±

    ¡°No idea, I first heard about that when he tried setting you on his trail. Although he and Daver mentioned Tyler buying diabolic supplies a few weeks back. And twelve.¡±

    ¡°Twelve Diabolists?¡± I asked. That was a fair few more than I expected, with Quarter under more scrutiny than it had endured in decades. Still nowhere near the number in the Flame at it¡¯s height. ¡°Powerful?¡±

    ¡°Not something many share openly,¡± Melissa said, lips quirking a little. ¡°And the ones who did share openly were just the ones most confident in their ability to lie.¡±

    That sounded about right, but still. ¡°You should still have an idea if they could deconsecrate a church with the corruptive effects of a spell, right?¡±

    She blinked, disbelief plain on her face. ¡°The corruptive effects?¡±

    ¡°Murder was done using a modified ritual for transforming a soul and body into that of a devil¡¯s,¡± I told her. ¡°Modified for pain and to make sure the subject died. And castable with a touch. The leakage from that was sufficient to deconsecrate the church.¡±

    Silence reigned in my practice chamber as she tried to digest that.

    ¡°No one,¡± she said. ¡°And if Daver didn¡¯t lie to me, what you¡¯re describing is¡­powerful. More powerful than him. More powerful than you?¡±

    ¡°If I could, usefulness or no I¡¯m pretty sure the Imperial Government would have cut my head off,¡± I said. ¡°Could I get there? Maybe. We share a powerful bloodline Melissa. Which is part of why I¡¯m being watched. But right now? No. And I doubt any of them were trusted enough by Father Reginald that he let them in. Does Versalicci have any interests in Belton?¡±

    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    The question surprised her, then she pursed her lips as she thought. ¡°I don¡¯t think so, honestly you mentioning it a few minutes ago was the first time I¡¯d heard the name in a long time.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s been a string of robberies lately,¡± I said. ¡°Not initiations? Tests? Training?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± she said firmly. ¡°Belton is too sleepy of a neighborhood to do that. Notable enough it would draw attention.¡±

    That was true. It had been notable enough that we¡¯d all suspected a connection as soon as it was reported.

    ¡°I¡¯ll have more questions later,¡± I said, getting up and moving towards the door as her eyes widened.

    ¡°You¡¯re not letting me go?¡± She protested.

    ¡°Melissa,¡± I said. ¡°I will let you go, if only because I don¡¯t want an angry and desperate Diabolist in my basement. But Holmteader was here earlier, and definitely left people behind to watch. If they see Black Flame members leaving? Well, they might try something. And that¡¯s assuming it¡¯s only Holmsteader. And I¡¯m not letting you have free rein of my house either. We wait til there are fewer watchers, and I help you out?¡±

    It would keep her out of Versalicci¡¯s hands just a little longer. Damn me, what the hells was I trying to pull here?

    The reluctant nod I got in return wasn¡¯t the most convincing gesture, but for now, it would have to do. If she made a serious effort to escape? Well, with enough force and willingness to break bones, one could do it.

    ***

    ¡°She¡¯s staying down there for a while,¡± I told Gregory after talking about what had been discussed after he left. Minus the fact she was my half-sister. ¡°Letting her go back to Versalicci isn¡¯t worth the risk. Can¡¯t be certain he¡¯s not involved in this beyond some of his people going rogue.¡±

    ¡°Is it possible it¡¯s fake?¡± Gregory said with a pensive frown. ¡°Feed a false story to this one, let her loose in the hopes it gets back to us?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°Far too many variables if he wanted to do that he¡¯d do something he¡¯d be sure would reach us, even if the message itself is obscured. Me eventually finding Tyler? That was intentional, but Melissa was not. Hells, even if none of his other Diabolists actually left, sacrificing one for something like that would be considered a waste.¡±

    Especially if it was one of the few Diabolists capable of reaching the Duke without their heads popping like a grape.

    ¡°I¡¯ll have to arrange for someone to watch her while I¡¯m out,¡± I said. ¡°Or maybe to keep her somewhere else. I don¡¯t want to send her to the Watch, and especially not Halspus¡¯ church. Or anyone else.¡±

    ¡°Why not?¡±

    Because she¡¯s probably my sister, wasn¡¯t going to leave my lips anytime soon, and the alternative of because I said so wasn¡¯t what I would call convincing.

    ¡°Who do you think are the two biggest collections of Diabolists outside of the dozen from the Flame?¡± I asked Gregory.

    He raised an eyebrow, and then as he thought on it his face fell more and more.

    ¡°One is definitely the program,¡± he said. ¡°The details I was given were sparse, deliberately so, but they hinted at a dozen churches having had one member start studying and collecting power.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s why no churches,¡± I told him. ¡°As for why no Watch, I¡¯m betting the second is the list of Imperial Intelligence agents or consultants who know Diabolism.¡±

    Gregory¡¯s frown deepened. ¡°So all of the investigators who are diabolists are-¡±

    ¡°Maybe not,¡± I said. ¡°Takes a lot of effort to punch through a message from the Hells past the barriers set up around Anglea. For every diabolist not excluded by blood or some other reason? They¡¯d hear it just because of that, but that doesn¡¯t mean other ears known to be willing aren¡¯t the target.¡±

    I despised the church of Halpsus, but they weren¡¯t entirely wrong in all things. Devils could be tricky, and convincing, but most importantly they knew precisely the right targets to whisper honeyed words to when needed.

    The barriers they¡¯d put around Anglea at great expense to keep the hells from interacting with the mortal plane except when a Diabolist managed to carve their own hole? They kept that from being anything but a rarity.

    The issue is those rarities were beings of great power deciding to waste their energy doing it. What might have in the past been something some imp trying to tempt a single mortal would now require efforts by an archdevil, at least.

    And would mean whatever the end goal was matched an archdevil¡¯s ambitions.

    ¡°So,¡± Gregory said quietly. ¡°Anyone could be working on the devil¡¯s plans then.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± I replied. ¡°There¡¯s exceptions to that, probably. Going forward not trusting anyone involved is a recipe for disaster. Especially when sharing information is the key to figuring out who is behind this. But tell the wrong person we¡¯re onto them? They play us like a fiddle.¡±

    ¡°And you chose to tell me,¡± he noted. ¡°I¡¯m¡­touched but a little surprised?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t really know where that conversation was going to lead,¡± I said, and his face fell. ¡°But in truth? Whatever else, I don¡¯t think you¡¯re part of this.¡±

    Not that I could entirely trust him, no that was of course out of the question. The real answer was closer to what I¡¯d first said, I hadn¡¯t known where that conversation would lead when I started it.

    ¡°Anyone else on that list?¡± Gregory asked.

    ¡°Voltar,¡± I said, before frowning. ¡°As far as I can tell, which is the issue isn¡¯t it? I¡¯ve known him for about a month closely, the rest of the time being a minion of one of his common targets. Same with Doctor Dawes. And Barnes. And the church people on your side you¡¯ve known for even less time?¡±

    ¡°Well, I knew Father Reginald rather well, but he¡¯s¡­dead.¡±

    ¡°So, for right now, Voltar?¡± I asked. ¡°We can¡¯t keep it just between the two of us, neither of us really has the authority to act on it.¡±

    Gregory frowned. ¡°My understanding was Voltar occasionally worked for Intelligence, not that he actually was part of it?¡±

    Well, yes, even if he had a brother who was part of it. Probably not something I should be spreading around.

    ¡°Inside the investigation,¡± I clarified. ¡°He has leverage inside it that neither of us have without explaining why.¡±

    ¡°True,¡± Gregory said. ¡°I suppose it¡¯s a risk worth taking. But with that out of the way, why did you send me upstairs?¡±

    I settled on the truest-sounding answer that didn¡¯t give away specifics.

    ¡°Family issues,¡± I told Gregory bitterly. ¡°In my experience, with few exceptions, they are some of the worst issues one can encounter. You ever had an evil brother?¡±

    He chuckled. ¡°William can be a bit of a brat, and Edward can be a bit of a suck-up, but neither I¡¯d call¡­.¡±

    Gregory trailed off at the mention of his older brother. Awkwardly, I considered what the Hells to say to that.

    In the end, Gregory spoke the silence first.

    ¡°Although speaking of family, I have talked to some of yours recently,¡± Gregory said, and I froze.

    Couldn¡¯t be Versalicci, couldn¡¯t be the devil, which meant.

    ¡°Really?¡± I asked coldly. ¡°Swapping stories with the Xangs recently?¡±

    ¡°They have quite a few,¡± he said. ¡°A lot of them about what Lily Xang was like as a child.¡±

    ¡°Lily Xang is dead,¡± I told him. ¡°In spirit if not in flesh quite yet. Digging up that grave is going to end with the usual responses to digging up a corpse- discomfort, anger, and sorrow for everyone involved.¡±

    ¡°Wasn¡¯t you digging up a corpse the start of your involve-¡±

    ¡°Do not try to change the topic!¡± I yelled at him. ¡°Lily Xang is dead! If my last conversation with my uncle was entirely true, it came very close to her literally dying, instead of being tossed with her mother to fend for themselves in the Quarter! They sat around, and eventually decided that tossing me in there was a fair alternative to cutting my Hells-damned head off Gregory!¡±

    He had paled by that last bit, all the color faded. ¡°I didn¡¯t know-¡±

    ¡°Of course you didn¡¯t,¡± I snapped. ¡°I¡¯ve told you about things like this before, when you cornered me, exhausted and tired, and none of it seems to sink through. I can deal with you hating me for what I¡¯ve done Gregory, but I am tired of this. You seem to flip-flop between considering me a monster for what I¡¯ve done, and some charming innocent waif because of either what you thought of me or what others tell you. Do I seriously need to explain the concept that people can change to you?¡±

    He actually seemed irritated at that, lips pursing in anger. ¡°Yes, I know what that is, Malvia, but-¡±

    ¡°No buts,¡± I snapped. ¡°This is not a topic for discussion. Do me a favor, and get out of my store. Now.¡±

    He opened his mouth, then seemed to actually think better of what he was saying and headed towards the door.

    I stalked off towards my rooms upstairs, hoping to find something up there to calm the anger that felt like it was throttling my brain.

    I was halfway up the stairs when the bell above my door rang.

    Why do I even put up a sign? I thought as I went back down the stairs, only to see Gregory Montague awkwardly peering inside, about to say something.

    ¡°I am going to shoot you,¡± I said before he could even form a word. ¡°Out of my store.¡±

    I was already heading to the gun under my counter. Just to reiterate my point, not to actually shoot him. He quickly opened my door the rest of the way, revealing three others on my doorstep.

    Voltar, Dawes, and Tagashin in her guise as Rebecca Barnes. And from the slight bemusement on Voltar¡¯s face, worry on Dawes¡¯, and face-splitting grin on Tagashin¡¯s, all three had heard that last comments.

    ¡°Miss Harrow,¡± Voltar said calmly, and I could only hope I did not look as embarrassed as Gregory did currently. ¡°Sorry for the interruption, but there¡¯s been another murder. Another priest is dead.¡±

 Book 2 - Chapter 14 - Lead I

    Melissa looked up in bewilderment as I opened the door to the practice chamber again. She glanced between me and the chunk of stone she¡¯d pried loose from the floor, currently frozen mid-scrape against one of the irons I¡¯d left her in.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± I said. ¡°I expected you to do that anyway. The door would have been something trickier for you to handle. Come on, we¡¯re going on a trip.¡±

    ¡°I..what,¡± she said flatly, dropping the stone, expression tightening. ¡°Yes, because what I want to do is go to some place alone with you, when the last time we met before all of this was me beating you to a pulp.¡±

    ¡°You should maybe have not mentioned that,¡± I told her. ¡°Even when at someone¡¯s mercy, don¡¯t remind them of reasons they have for not liking you.¡±

    Not advice I managed to keep myself, but still.

    ¡°Besides, we aren¡¯t going anywhere alone,¡± I told her. ¡°We¡¯re going in the company of the Empire¡¯s greatest detective to a crime scene.¡±

    ¡°That makes me less cooperative, not more,¡± she said. ¡°Why should I go instead of trying to break out of your house?¡±

    ¡°Consider yourself Versalicci¡¯s informant,¡± I told her. ¡°Sure, everyone is going to figure whatever is said will worm its way back to him, but it¡¯s still better access than any member of the gang would get.¡±

    Melissa frowned, expression going a little pensive as she mulled that over. She seemed to be genuinely loyal to Gio, so that had to be weighing on her some. Hells, back in the old days, getting anyone close to Voltar had been a project pursued by Versalicci to vary extents up until Understreet had come under siege. Never any long-term success there.

    ¡°And if the Watch, or someone else decides to just take me captive and try to torture the location of the Street Beneath out of me?¡±

    I blinked. ¡°I thought he¡¯d been joking when he said you¡¯d all decided to name it that. But, in short, they aren¡¯t going to know you¡¯re Flame.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a diabolist who is an Infernal,¡± Melissa said, then tapped the flaming goat¡¯s skull tattooed into the back of her hand. ¡°Even if this didn¡¯t give it away immediately, that¡¯s probably a close enough hint.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a hint, but nothing to be acted on,¡± I corrected her. ¡°They aren¡¯t going to just nab you, especially if you¡¯re accompanying Voltar. As for the tattoo, I got a way to hide that.¡±

    She tried to pull away from me, eyes gone wide. ¡°I am not letting you alter my body! Malachti told me what you used to do to people!¡±

    ¡°I have no idea what nonsense Malachti has been spouting since I¡¯ve left,¡± I said drily while I reached into the pocket of my coat. ¡°But I meant these.¡±

    I held up a pair of thick, leather alchemist¡¯s gloves, a little stained from chemical exposure but otherwise in pristine condition.

    ¡°Oh,¡± she said, relaxing just a little. ¡°Those would work?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯ll work for plausible deniability,¡± I said. ¡°I understand the reluctance. Really. I had to be dragged into a mess like this kicking and screaming. But, if you really want to help our brother? There¡¯s no better place than here for right now.¡±

    She mulled it over, and I didn¡¯t press any further. It was a fragile decision, one that could be upset by pushing her too hard.

    ¡°Fine,¡± she said. ¡°Voltar will be fine with this?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it.¡±

    ***

    Voltar rubbed his temple, eyes closed.

    ¡°So, somehow, not only did last night¡¯s escapades result in one dead secret diabolist abducting and murdering the poor of the Quarter, but it also resulted in you abducting Gregory Montague and a Black Flame diabolist. Who you now want to let me accompany us and participate in the investigation?¡±

    ¡°That about sums it up,¡± I replied, picking up some more alchemicals to bring along with me. With the foresight of knowing how these murders were being done, I could actually bring some more useful substances along with us this time.

    ¡°Well, it can¡¯t turn out any worse than the last time that happened,¡± Dr. Dawes opined.

    It was just the three of us, Gregory and Tagashin waiting out in the carriage, Melissa down below. I¡¯d spent the time briefly explaining what had happened last night, minus the detail of Melissa potentially being my half-sibling. I finished packing up my gear, looking up to see Voltar intently staring down at me.

    ¡°You know I would be reluctant to do this in the best of circumstances,¡± he said. ¡°Why push for this? I can¡¯t imagine you¡¯re eager to associate with the Flame again. Or are you?¡±

    I smiled just a little. ¡°I imagine that lingering nugget of distrust will always be there. That¡¯s fine. Think of it along these lines. If she¡¯s telling the truth, she is the last loyal diabolist Versalicci has working for him.¡±

    "You think you can save her?¡± Dawes asked.

    ¡°I think I can make a good effort,¡± I said. ¡°And if not, well better closer to us and not by his side during this mess.¡±

    ¡°How confident are you she is the last loyal diabolist?¡± Voltar said. ¡°This is hardly the first time Daver has faked his death.¡±

    I frowned. ¡°It¡¯s the first time I¡¯ve heard of him trying to. What are you talking about?¡±

    ¡°That time he left his leg behind during the assault on the safehouse,¡± Voltar said, waving his hand dismissively. ¡°I will admit the rotted nature of the limb did confuse me for a time, but his disappearance from Versalicci¡¯s operations for near a year did nearly convince me of his demise.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to destroy whatever conclusions you formed at the time,¡± I said, leaning across the countertop. ¡°But that wasn¡¯t him trying to fake his death, that was him getting blackout drunk and nearly rotting his own leg off on accident.¡±

    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Voltar turned to face me, his expression almost as if I¡¯d told him the sky was bright purple. ¡°He what?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a long story, and not all that relevant,¡± I said hurriedly. ¡°But yes, he didn¡¯t intend to fake his death, and yes he did rot his own leg off.¡±

    ¡°So you may be correct,¡± Voltar said, every word grating like sandpaper as he forced them out. ¡°That she is the last diabolist. She will be in close proximity to all of us, and she is still loyal to Versalicci. Why should I allow this?¡±

    ¡°Because no one else is doing anything,¡± I snapped, and Doctor Dawes recoiled. Voltar remained still though, eyes narrowing.

    ¡°No one is doing anything,¡± I reiterated. ¡°Versalicci is at large, nearly took over this city, and everyone acts like it didn¡¯t happen.¡±

    Because he was so incompetent it barely mattered, The Imp said, picking the worst time to interject and the most moronic comment to make.

    Shut up, I thought, angrily enough I hoped it could actually hear me.

    ¡°They¡¯ve gone from being treated like an existential threat to just another gang,¡± I continued, staring at a stony Voltar. ¡°Which I imagine doesn¡¯t sit right with you or anyone else involved in Understreet. Unless you know why and think it¡¯s good enough to keep him running around unchecked. Do you?¡±

    Silence for a bit, Dawes moving to just out of my line of sight but I kept my gaze locked on Voltar.

    ¡°You can bring her.¡±

    ***

    The carriage was packed, six of us scrunched inside. Not helping was forced seating arrangements after I¡¯d brought the sixth member out of the cellar.

    I wouldn¡¯t sit near Gregory, Melissa refused to even be near Voltar and Dawes, and Gregory for some reason refused to sit with Tagashin. Separated by gender, me in the middle to keep Tagashin and Melissa separated.

    That meant a stone-faced Voltar opposite of a smirking, flirtatious Tagashin, a charming Gregory across from a furious, unhappy Melissa, and a reluctant me across from an equally uncomfortable Doctor Dawes.

    Outside, Ilvare burned its black glare, only the rim of it the same color as the other suns. Somehow this resulted in a day that was just as dark as when clouds filled the sky, but the light of everything around us hadn¡¯t changed at all.

    Magic. Sometimes no matter how much you studied it, the things it did just made no sense.

    ¡°So,¡± Tagshin said, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had built since we¡¯d figured out the seating. She¡¯d assumed her disguise as Barnes, although she still wore that shockingly pink ensemble. ¡°You and Gregory are back together again?¡±

    I glared at the openly smirking Tagashin, trying to think of the best way to answer that the treacherous vixen couldn¡¯t twist into some kind of insult.

    ¡°If I kick you out of the door and it doesn¡¯t even inconvenience her, does it still count as assault?¡± Gregory asked, getting a melodramatic gasp of outrage out of Tagashin.

    ¡°Mr. Montague, why I never,¡± she said. ¡°You would suggest assault on a poor innocent woman? Truly I thought better of you.¡±

    ¡°I suggest assault on someone who counts on another¡¯s honor as a guarantee to sting others without retaliation,¡± Gregory replied, leaning towards her. ¡°Maybe take it as a warning to stop stinging everyone in sight.¡±

    ¡°I found poisoning her does wonders for that,¡± I offered, which made his eyes widen.

    ¡°Enough,¡± Voltar said, his voice cutting through a half-formed reply from Gregory. ¡°Barnes, please restrain from lashing everyone with that whip you call a tongue. A person has died, and potentially more could have if not for intervention that ended the Infernal corruption effects before they could attack citizens. Malvia, on the events of last night, did anything else happen?¡±

    Something had, and I couldn¡¯t believe it had slipped my mind. I suppose with everything else that had happened later, it had gotten overshadowed.

    ¡°Alice Skall visited last night,¡± I told Voltar.

    Everyone turned their attention to me at that, all of them startled except Tagashin, who remained smirking.

    ¡°Really?¡± Voltar said. ¡°I believed she was dead.¡±

    ¡°So did I,¡± I admitted. ¡°Apparently not only did she fake her death, but Versalicci told her I was to blame for her name getting dragged through the mud a month ago. Back when you decided her name would be a safe one to blame for the ¡®poisonings¡¯ of Edward Montague and Desmond Kersin.¡±

    I didn¡¯t miss the slight tightening in Gregory¡¯s expression at the mention of his older brother. He needed to get over it, it wasn¡¯t as if I¡¯d personally pushed his brother into the Nover or anything like that. Did he think I was able to fight drakes when they wanted something? If it was even those three drakes that were responsible.

    ¡°Right,¡± Voltar said. ¡°When I decided to use her. In my defense, I was quite confident in her death.¡±

    Actually, Tagashin had decided to use her name. But two people here did not need to know about the Kitsune¡¯s connections to all of this. Or the fact she existed.

    Barnes¡¯ smirk widened just enough I couldn¡¯t be sure if it was my imagination or not.

    ¡°Another diabolist in town just as these murders begin,¡± Gregory said, looking between me and Voltar. ¡°Since I don¡¯t have the experience with her that any of you do, is it possible?¡±

    ¡°Very unlikely,¡± Voltar said at the same time as I said ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Alice Skall is very unlikely to have struck up a personal relationship with Father Reginald,¡± Voltar said.

    ¡°I can guess why,¡± Melissa said bitterly, speaking for the first time.

    ¡°Not any animosity,¡± Voltar said. ¡°Father Reginald was overseas until a few months ago, on an extended pilgrimage across the ocean. As for Alice Skall also heading there, well.¡±

    As much freedom as Infernals might have gotten to leave the Quarters, to leave the country itself was a different story. Possible? Certainly. Possible to get back in? Perhaps? Likely to have done both.

    No.

    ¡°Besides that, if she¡¯s here for revenge on her name being brought up,¡± I said. ¡°She¡¯d not be drawing attention to herself with that. Alice was laying low for five years before now. Best guess? She¡¯s irritated attention is being brought to her name again, and worried about if it means someone will find her out. She crept into my house to interrogate me for answers. Her first move instead being to murder the priest would be¡­contradictory.¡±

    ¡°Unless she¡¯s counting on us to think that,¡± Gregory noted. ¡°Could she?¡±

    ¡°Potentially,¡± Voltar said. ¡°We will undoubtedly be able to tell more once we arrive at the murder scene. Her being acquainted with one of the members of this program is already stretching the boundaries of believability, being associated with more than one is frankly impossible. Savareth¡¯s priestess is also apparently not the friendliest of people.¡±

    ¡°Different deity,¡± I noted. Seas and storms, but beyond that I knew little. ¡°Also part of the program?¡±

    ¡°I believe I¡¯m not the one to ask on that,¡± Voltar said, looking to Gregory.

    Gregory shook his head slightly. ¡°If you think they trusted me with the names of every member the same day they informed me the program existed, you¡¯re mistaken. Honestly getting Bishop Gallaspie to admit there were more than five was like pulling teeth out. Bishop Derrick is friendlier, but I¡¯m an imposition forced on them. And me admitting that the program exists will make them less willing to share information, not more.¡±

    Melissa¡¯s eyes widened as she understood what we were discussing, but she held her tongue.

    See? Bait on the hook already planted.

    ¡°I suppose we¡¯ll know when we get there,¡± I said, looking out the carriage window.

    We were approaching the docks, passing by a bustling warehouse on our way to one of the many ports along the Nover. Made sense for a deity of the seas, although the Nover could only broadly be called a river. What filled it could hardly be called water.

    The bustling of the warehouse did catch my attention though. Belton had been one Infernal¡¯s appearance away from a riot when I¡¯d arrived there.

    ¡°You said the infernal corruption was caught in time?¡± I asked Voltar. ¡°So news of it is-?¡±

    ¡°Contained for now,¡± Doctor Dawes said. ¡°But not for long. People will notice sooner rather than later.¡±

    ¡°Apparently not contained enough,¡± Gregory said, looking out the window as well. ¡°I think that answers your question about the victim.¡±

    I looked out myself, and with only a glance understood what he meant. Ahead of us, a loose cordon of Watch officers were at the end of a dock that led down to what could only be described as a giant barnacle. At that cordon, two very familiar bishops were busy arguing with that picket line of Watch.

    Well, this should prove interesting.

 Book 2 - Chapter 15 - Lead II

    I stared at the temple, a pensive frown growing on my face as I looked it over.

    I¡¯d never seen a temple to Savareth before, as important as the ocean was to Anglea¡¯s trade. I couldn¡¯t be sure how heavily the leaking Diabolism from the murder had altered this place, but I couldn¡¯t imagine it normally looked like this.

    A massive grey and red clam sat at the end of the docks, its open shell clamping down on the sides of what was probably a building. A door and windows, embedded in walls made of barnacles and sea urchin spines sticking out among them. Something about how the temple doors and circular window up above remained symmetrical in that organic mass was more disturbing than if it had been entirely sea life.

    We rolled closer, nearing the line of Watch officers. A smaller picket crew than at yesterday¡¯s crime scene, a half dozen bored Watch members, idly waving away members of the public. The only standout member was Walston, engaged in a fierce discussion with the two bishops.

    ¡°Good,¡± Voltar said behind me, peering out of the carriage window. ¡°The corruption didn¡¯t reach the building¡¯s exteriors.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s supposed to look like that?¡± I murmured. The mass of sea life crawled over the docks beyond the clamshell¡¯s. Barnacles, sea sponges, and other marine life filled the end of the dock, leaving not a speck of wood to be seen. How could it even support the weight?

    ¡°Savareth is a deity of the seas first,¡± Gregory said. ¡°All of the seas.¡±

    Well, maybe she should consider that not many people in Avernon lived in the sea. Or in the Nover, which technically was a liquid. I supposed.

    The lack of a large Watch presence did mean less gawkers. A mid-size crowd, maybe forty people total, a mixture of orc and Keltish labourers for the most part with a couple of outliers. They seemed more engrossed in the ongoing yelling match between Bishops and Watch Captain. Well, one bishop.

    ¡°-you shall not defy me again, Captain! Halspus is dedicated to the thwarting of evildoers wherever they may walk!¡±

    ¡°Last I checked, Semiv was the patron of Watchmen, Bishop. And while I appreciate your concerns over another deity¡¯s temple being broken into, I reiterate this is our concern.¡±

    Walston¡¯s gravelly voice didn¡¯t even need to be raised to match the Bishop¡¯s in volume, if not in intensity. I smirked at the clear irritation in her tone though. Sounded like Gallapsie making a spectacle of this while the Watch was trying to keep people from realizing a priest had died. I could understand Walston¡¯s irritation, trying not to cause a panic over all of this. I still was going to appreciate how good Father Gallaspie was at irritating everyone around him.

    The only returning priests were the two bishops, although Gallaspie had brought a new face. A reedy bespectacled acolyte wearing a robe with Halspus¡¯ golden sunburst on the front stuck close to the bishop, writing down notes as Gallaspie argued with Walston.

    The crowd watched with some interest as our carriage passed through the picket line, past a few feet. Murmured whispers only grew louder as Voltar and Dawes exited the carriage.

    To my shock, they seemed almost as loud as I left. Must be spotting an Infernal outside the quarter, it was still somewhat rare.

    Bishop Gallaspie¡¯s face tightened as both I and Gregory exited the carriage.

    ¡°That is where you were?¡± he thundered. ¡°I knew that those who follow Tarver think little of the consequences or realities of their actions, and I expected little, and yet you disappoint. Tempted by th-¡±

    ¡°I kidnapped him,¡± I interrupted bluntly. ¡°And chained him up in my basement. Nothing else happened.¡±

    The Bishop paused mid-tirade, seemingly dumbstruck by the blunt admission to the crime. The blonde acolyte by his side seemed even more incensed, sputtering out in an outraged squawk something about my immoral character.

    ¡°She did not do anything to me I haven¡¯t agreed to before, Bishop,¡± Gregory said cheerfully as if I hadn¡¯t been yelling at him less than an hour ago. ¡°Actually, she has been quite a help to me recently. I unfortunately blundered into a dangerous situation and Miss Harrow helped pull me out of it.¡±

    A bit of creative rewriting of me putting a bullet in Donald Tyler¡¯s head, but I was hardly going to correct him.

    ¡°Blundered into,¡± the blonde said with a sneer. ¡°Really Montague, did you end up with that appendage that controls your brain deep in some-¡±

    ¡°Helped me handle a diabolist, which is more than I think you could do,¡± I drily noted. ¡°Where were you last night?¡±

    My interruption derailed the blonde, who faltered but managed a decent recovery, chest puffing up. ¡°I was assisting Bishop Gallaspie with-¡±

    ¡°If you didn¡¯t kill a diabolist, you were less help than him,¡± I said, talking over him. ¡°So-¡±

    ¡°You-¡± Gallaspie started, roaring to the defense of his acolyte, while Bishop Derrick looked down into the Nover, nothing but embarrassment on that weathered face.

    If she wanted to drown herself, she might want to pick a river that wouldn¡¯t melt her first.

    ¡°Bishop Gallaspie,¡± Voltar interrupted. ¡°What a pleasure it is to see you today! Captain Walston, why are you barring our good friend entry to the crime scene?¡±

    That took Gallaspie off-balance, as Walston¡¯s eyes widened just a little. Pretty soon all three of them, and Derrick, were busy talking about that, giving me a chance to slink back out of sight, Gregory following me.

    Not exactly welcome after earlier, but more welcome than the lickspittle who looked like he wanted to bite into my throat.

    ¡°Whose the blonde?¡± I whispered.

    ¡°Michael Forcreek,¡± Gregory whispered back. ¡°Bishop Gallespie¡¯s personal assistant. Met him once. Even more stuck up than the Bishop.¡±

    ¡°Impossible,¡± I murmured. ¡°How did he become a bishop? I have to know.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s more personable around people of a certain type,¡± Gregory muttered back.

    I paused. Me, I could understand. Filthy degenerate Infernal, here to steal your souls, your lives, and all your men and women, thank you. Captain Walston though? What could his-oh.

    ¡°Halspus has non-Anglean members among his clergy, does he not?¡± I whispered back. Maybe not subtly enough, Fourcreek was staring at me in suspicion. His boss remained engaged by debating Voltar and Walston. I gave him a little wave. He replied with a sign of his god that made my skin tingle a little.

    ¡°Yep, and both they and the bishop put a lot of effort into avoiding each other for the good of the church.¡±

    The debate concluded pretty quickly, since Voltar wanted both Bishops inside anyway, and just needed to get Walston on board. She seemed willing, or at least willing to trust Voltar had a good reason.

    Huh. The Watch had seemed somewhat sour on Voltar during the shape-changer case, what had changed since then?

    Oh, wait. I glanced over at Tagashin. Hrrm. Yeah, a few weeks of dealing with her disguised as Voltar may have exhausted the Watch¡¯s collective patience with him. Over years of good cases though? No wait, this was Tagashin.

    Easily possible.

    ¡°I do apologize,¡± I lied insincerely when asked to make good with Forcreek. ¡°It was a very long evening, I didn¡¯t get much sleep and I lashed out.¡±

    ¡°I suppose one must account for the unstable nature associated with your kind,¡± he said in a tone that made that sound like some kind of solemn musing on whichever ¡®kind¡¯ I belonged to that had an unstable nature. I gave a small polite smile, and resisted the urge to see what his Adam¡¯s apple tasted like.

    The gist of the discussion up this, which I¡¯d paid attention to but kept myself out of, was that Walston had been stalling the two bishops. They¡¯d arrived soon after the Watch had gotten here, in a series of events that Walston was covering as we walked along the docks to the temple.

    ¡°Patrol Officer Raleigh spotted a cloaked figure leaving the temple at dawn,¡± she said as we closed the distance. More people were gathering now that Voltar had made an appearance. Reporters would make their way here next, I suspected. At least it being on a pier meant access would be limited.

    ¡°He entered the temple, saw the body, and immediately shut the doors,¡± Walston continued. ¡°Blew his whistle, got a whole squad here, and they sent a runner. Soon after these three showed up, claiming that they¡¯d detected a massive surge of divine power.¡±

    ¡°We did not come immediately,¡± Gallaspie growled. ¡°It took an hour to get here, and if you talked to any temple nearby, you¡¯d know that probably every priest in a mile felt that. Someone personally called on divine intervention to purify this place before the corruption could spread.¡±

    ¡°Our killer?¡± Dawes asked, only to get a scouring glare from Gallaspie he met without seeming impressed.

    ¡°Possibly,¡± Bishop Derrick said more calmly than her fellow bishop. ¡°Although the chance of some practicing both Diabolism and Divine magic is extremely slim. Or perhaps an intervention on our behalf, and if that¡¯s the case they may have spotted the killer.¡±

    ¡®Extremely slim¡¯? Still hoping to hide the program¡¯s existence as long as they could. We were finally approaching the temple itself, when something caught my eye.

    I looked at what lay beyond the pier the temple was situated on in disbelief.

    ¡°Is that-?¡±

    ¡°It is,¡± Voltar confirmed, looking down at it. ¡°I can understand your disbelief but yes, it is the Nover.¡±

    ¡°It looks like water,¡± I muttered, staring at the flowing, liquid river. It wasn¡¯t crystal clear, instead a murky brown, but it was water. ¡°It can¡¯t be water though. It¡¯s the Nover.¡±

    ¡°Well, this is a temple to Savareth,¡± Gregory said. ¡°Deities of the ocean can make even the Nover bend to their will. To an extent.¡±

    True. More than a few dozen feet out, the Nover returned to its stagnant, squalid self. But still, it was unnerving seeing even just a patch of it move at a pace faster than sludge.

    ¡°You look like you could leave your hoof in there for a few hours and it wouldn¡¯t have dissolved half of it,¡± I muttered. ¡°Hells, it might not even be flammable anymore.¡±

    Walston coughed, and we continued to the door itself.

    ¡°The priestess inside was Stormspeaker Leliel Starken,¡± Captain Walston said. ¡°Well-respected in the community, so let¡¯s try to keep disturbance of the corpse to a minimum.¡±

    I could understand her desire to not rile the citizenry up but in all honesty? The diabolist who¡¯d killed her likely would have done more than enough in that regard.

    The doors opened, and the exterior put the interior to shame.

    Rough, unpolished, uncarved stone formed the interior, no strange sea life or massive clamshells. Stone benches, although cushions had been planted on them as a concession to people¡¯s comfort.

    There was no one inside but us. I eyed the floor, where a massive circle in the middle had been replaced by glass. You could see through it into the Nover, and even in the murky water the occasional passing fin.

    At the far end of the church, a statue of a mermaid was perched on a weathered rock, arms gesturing upwards. Watery waves carved out of coastal stone followed the direction of her arms up towards the center of the church¡¯s ceiling.

    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    In the center of that glass circle? Stormspeaker Starken.

    As opposed to last time, the body wasn¡¯t posed, instead lying on the ground, curled in a fetal position. Fins poked out from tears in her clothing, thick and rubbery as they fanned out all around her. A lifeless fish¡¯s eye stared at the ceiling along her back, smaller ones dotting her skin. The ones in her face had been forced to the side of her head, swelled and almost falling out of their sockets.

    Her limbs hadn¡¯t gone unscathed. Her legs were flippers now, longer than they had any right to be. One arm a crab¡¯s pincer, split into three of them in fact. The other a mass of tentacles.

    ¡°Did she always look like this?¡± I whispered to Gregory. Her face looked a little like the Savareth priestess from yesterday. However, between now rubbery skin and being half-forced into a fish¡¯s shape, it was hard to tell for certain.

    ¡°No,¡± he whispered back sharply, looking down at the corpse. ¡°She did not.¡±

    I bent down, examining the body closer but not touching it just yet. There was a thin film on her skin, wet and oozing. It slowly traveled down to the floor, congealing into a growing puddle.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think there¡¯s any diabolism left,¡± I said, pulling out my diabolism focus. ¡°But definitely gloves for this one. No idea what this slime is, but limited exposure seems best.¡±

    A touch of the focus proved that. Also proved there was nothing in the air, which was a more mild concern. Entire world was lucky how much raw diabolic energy needed to be pumped out to make air corruptive.

    ¡°Now,¡± Voltar said. ¡°Before we examine the body, I believe there is something else that should be discussed first. A matter of information to be shared.¡±

    Gallaspie fixed a hateful glare on Gregory, nearly matched in intensity by his little toady. ¡°You informed them?¡±

    Bishop Derrick sighed, moving in between Gallaspie and the rest of us. ¡°While it is hardly his place to decide if they should know, I am sure it was to help the investigations Matthew.¡±

    ¡°In actuality, we discovered it before talking with Gregory,¡± Voltar said.

    ¡°They discovered the training chamber,¡± Gregory told the bishops. ¡°When they asked, I figured hiding it would gain nothing but ill will. And we need help that is not¡­suspect.¡±

    ¡°A diabolist, two if you count the one in the coach,¡± Gallaspie said. ¡°A meddler, something disguising itself, and whatever you are.¡±

    I was amazing how he managed to somehow make that last one the most insulting, Dawes face tightening while Voltar¡¯s expression darkened.

    ¡°If our help is not wanted,¡± Voltar said coldly. ¡°We can always leave. You can try and ferret out who this is, who in your program has decided to cull your own ranks, or we can leave this to you and the Watch?¡±

    I quietly got back to my hooves, taking a few steps back as Voltar and Gallaspie glared at each other. The entire room had gone silent, Walston adding a glare of her own to the back of the bishop¡¯s head, and Gallaspie¡¯s toady, Forcock I think? He was glaring at her, to her apparent indifference.

    Bishop Derrick coughed awkwardly, an awkward grin stretching the aged lines of her face.

    ¡°Mr. Voltar,¡± she said apologetically. ¡°I¡¯m sure Bishop Gallaspie did not intend that. We appreciate any help offered but you can understand why we are perhaps upset that this program¡¯s existence is known?¡±

    Walston looked between the two of them, then cursed.

    ¡°You could have told me about this before we entered here,¡± she snapped at Voltar.

    ¡°I just confirmed it recently myself,¡± he replied calmly. ¡°Bishops, I¡¯m willing to stay on this case, but we need cooperation, not stonewalling.¡±

    Gallaspie and Derrick traded glances, and the Halpsusian bishop shook his head.

    ¡°I disagreed with this from the beginning Lillian,¡± he said gruffly. ¡°Now it is come down upon all our heads.¡±

    ¡°I am aware Matthew,¡± she said tiredly. ¡°Since you¡¯ve tried to drill that thought in my head since the first killing last night. Mr. Voltar, what can we answer for you?¡±

    ¡°For now?¡± Voltar said. ¡°Nothing. I¡¯d rather we discuss this topic in a place with a warm crackling fire, away from death. I just want assurance of cooperation. For now, let us handle examining Miss-¡±

    ¡°Stormspeaker,¡± Gregory corrected gently but firmly.

    ¡°-Stormspeaker Starken¡¯s body. Miss Harrow, Doctor Dawes?¡±

    Sighing, I followed Voltar to the corpse.

    ¡°First, our victim has clearly been posed in a mockery of Savareth¡¯s circles,¡± Voltar noted. ¡°Between the flippers her legs have been turned into dragged into forming a circle with her back, and her arms being dragged down to meet her waist.¡±

    Hrrm. I¡¯d simply thought she¡¯d collapse to the floor in the middle of the murderous ritual.

    ¡°Fish and sea life are typically associated with envy,¡± I said, leaning down. ¡°Voltar, do you want me to leave the corpse in place?¡±

    He looked over the body quickly, then shook his head. ¡°Lividity is hard to tell with the disfiguring of the skin. Let me check for any trace elements before you move her?¡±

    ¡°If you think you can get anything that¡¯s not just diabolic contaminants, be my guest,¡± I said, eyeing the oozing slime and mucus.

    He gingerly moved the patches of hair left on her face, looking for the back of her head. He wore thick leather gloves, and I tensed as they touched her skin. No hissing, so whatever the slime was, acidic it was not.

    ¡°Discolored flesh,¡± he noted. ¡°Darker coloration, potentially consistent with ruptured blood vessels. Dr. Dawes?¡±

    Dawes joined him, keeping a cautious distance.

    ¡°Looks consistent,¡± he agreed. ¡°I¡¯d need time with the body to confirm, but just from here, I¡¯d say a blow to the head, probably with a blunt object. Will time with the body be an issue?¡±

    ¡°I have tea with High Stormspeaker Galven tomorrow,¡± Bishop Derrick said. ¡°I¡¯ll talk to him about delaying her joining the sea until you have time to examine the body doctor.¡±

    ¡°An interesting change in our killer¡¯s technique,¡± Voltar noted, putting Leliel¡¯s head back down on the floor. ¡°Our killer didn¡¯t trust whatever methods got them close to Father Reginald to work for his next target. Perhaps realizing that his victims will be more cautious after the first one dies. Decided to arrange for her to be dazed and incapable of fighting back instead of relying on a prior relationship and letting them get close. Still, shouldn¡¯t assume anything just yet. Hands show signs of defensive wounds, same with arms. Let¡¯s just move the sleeves all the way back.¡±

    I frowned as I looked at the abrasions and bruising on the skin as Voltar moved her sleeves. It was entirely possible this was just discoloration, or even trauma from the forced transformation, but if it wasn¡¯t.

    ¡°She fought back but didn¡¯t use magic?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Potentially,¡± Voltar said, carefully prying Leliel¡¯s clenched fist open. ¡°Well, isn¡¯t this interesting?¡±

    A scrap of fabric had been clutched inside her closed fist. Voltar stood up, bringing it close enough to see properly.

    Crimson and silk, with a line of blue running through it. The make of the material was pretty clear to me.

    ¡°Dress piece,¡± I muttered. ¡°Our diabolist is a woman then?¡±

    ¡°Or inclined to wear women¡¯s clothing. Either to throw us off the scent, or because it¡¯s now they dress. Don¡¯t be so close-minded.¡±

    Voltar frowned though, turning his attention back to the corpse.

    ¡°Does seem interesting that the body was clearly moved afterwards and they didn¡¯t notice. Potential attempt to throw us off, although we should try and trace the cloth anyway.¡±

    ¡°Or the killer was in a hurry,¡± Dawes said. ¡°Perhaps not expecting her to fight back at all. If they surprised her and the first blow was to the back of her head, they might have expected her to collapse immediately. Instead she fought back and spooked them?¡±

    ¡°A good point,¡± Voltar said. ¡°Miss Harrow, a hand pulling her robe aside? I just need to see the stomach.¡±

    With some difficulty, we got the clothing move on Leliel¡¯s swollen frame.

    ¡°Signs of blunt force trauma to the stomach. So, she got hit in multiple places, did not use divine magic to fight back. Interesting.¡±

    ¡°Or the diabolic,¡± I noted. ¡°She might not have a focus on hand, but there are tricks easy enough for even novices without it. Was Stormspeaker Starken a poor hand to hand fight?¡±

    Bishop Derrick shook her head. ¡°I have no idea. Not something we really tested for. She was rather athletic, tended to spend time on the docks helping worshippers, so she wasn¡¯t in poor shape.¡±

    ¡°She was at the crime scene of Father Reginald,¡± I noted. ¡°How many of that group were Diabolists?¡±

    ¡°Close to none,¡± Gallaspie said. ¡°None of the church leaders in the organization are supposed to practice.¡±

    ¡°Leliel was both the representative and the trainee,¡± Bishop Derrick said, closing the corpse¡¯s eyes. ¡°Savareth¡¯s following has always been small, especially compared to how important the seas are to our nation, and the amount of clergy reflects this.¡±

    ¡°She talked about it?¡± I asked, scraping a few of the scales into a vial for testing later. Likely just more diabolism to be found in there, but it paid to be thorough. The slime as well, and a small sample of the blubbery flesh.

    More of the former was sliding off of flesh onto the ground, yet still her skin was covered in a heavy film of it.

    ¡°Quite often,¡± Gallaspie said, standing stiffly as he looked down at the body. ¡°Not a day went by without her complaining about how her goddess deserved more followers. Perhaps if her barnacle of a deity didn¡¯t cause storms and chaos as well as pleasant seas, more actually would worship her instead of tossing out prayers so a storm doesn¡¯t hit their house.¡±

    The light of the sun dimmed inside the temple. The dock underneath shuddered. A foreboding snap of a board beginning to break accompanied the sound of creaking wood growing louder. The floor tilted, just enough to feel.

    Everyone stared at Gallaspie, who himself stared at the statue of the goddess with an unimpressed look. His aide, perhaps possessing more brains than the bishops, glanced towards the door out.

    I got up from the corpse, bowing to the goddess¡¯ statue.

    ¡°My pardons, Savareth, as I do not normally worship, but I would like to request one thing. If the Bishop must die for his insults, please spare the rest of us.¡±

    Gallaspie¡¯s gaze shifted from the statue to me, but without the fire of earlier. Apparently even he couldn¡¯t be constantly furious. His aide¡¯s gaze more than made up for that though, looking as if I¡¯d pissed in both his and his master¡¯s porridge.

    I met it unwaveringly and just as unimpressed as the Bishop¡¯s glare at Savareth¡¯s statue. I didn¡¯t worship deities. I never had much use for them. I did know better than to insult them inside their own temples, especially one recently desecrated.

    ¡°Bishop Derrick, it sounds like what you described is an expression of envy,¡± I said. ¡°An understandable one that no one would normally begrudge someone in Leliel¡¯s position, but perhaps something our murderer might have latched onto?¡±

    She mulled it over, a cautious eye on Gallaspie and Forcreek, then nodded.

    ¡°Someone closely acquainted then?¡±

    ¡°She was not quiet about her complaints,¡± Gallaspie said, moving closer. He stood as straight as he could, a full head taller than me as he got within a foot.

    I met his gaze evenly, vaguely aware of Forcreek moving closer as well but I focused on the bishop.

    ¡°I can¡¯t say either way,¡± I said. ¡°I never knew her, but I doubted she routinely complained to her congregation. Unless anyone believes differently?¡±

    ¡°She did not,¡± Derrick said softly. ¡°Which does point to it being someone who knew her more personally.¡±

    ¡°How often did the program meet if at all?¡± Voltar asked.

    ¡°Once a month,¡± Bishop Derrick said. ¡°At a minimum. Practice for large-scale rituals, collaborative efforts. Socialization happened as well, which would be harder to keep track of.¡±

    Forcreek cleared his throat, and glanced at Bishop Gallaspie, who stiffly nodded. ¡°Actually, we have detailed records of all meetings between members of the programs, both actual diabolists and everyone else involved. Including social calls, which we are quite sure we tracked all of.¡±

    Silence for a moment after as everyone eyed the acolyte, then Bishop Derrick closed her eyes and sighed. ¡°Matthew.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t pretend no one suspected us of doing it,¡± Bishop Gallaspie replied bluntly, folding his arms across his chest. ¡°Be glad the resource exists now that we need it. And that the Church of Halpsus is willing to share it.¡±

    ¡°Others probably have records,¡± I noted. ¡°Semiv, and Larreran seem the most likely, but I doubt no one else tried keeping track.¡±

    ¡°Our records are the most comprehensive,¡± Forcreek said with a frown.

    ¡°I don¡¯t doubt that,¡± I said. ¡°Still, it¡¯s possible they picked up something you might have missed.¡±

    ¡°They are comprehensive,¡± he insisted, and I held up my hands in mock surrender.

    Something to look into when I had a chance.

    ¡°In terms of motivation, I think we have a clear one if the killer is part of the program,¡± Voltar noted. ¡°Not a certainty, but more likely than any other possibility.¡±

    ¡°Attempting to destroy the program,¡± Bishop Derrick said soberly. ¡°It was one of the first things we considered upon Father Reginald¡¯s death. It has never been a popular idea-¡°

    ¡°For good reason,¡± Gallespie interjected. ¡°I warned something would happen the moment this program began, and I have been proven right.¡±

    ¡°Killer sees this as a corruption,¡± Voltar opined. ¡°Sins magnified by tapping into a form of magic they see personally as the greatest sin.¡±

    ¡°They are not necessarily wrong,¡± Gallaspie muttered, Fourcreeks nodding behind him.

    ¡°How would you go about the next move then?¡± Voltar asked him.

    Gallaspie¡¯s face reddened, and then he took a breath. ¡°I assume you are not accusing me of being the killer?¡±

    ¡°Hardly, but you clearly agree with some of their mindset.¡±

    Gallaspie breathed slowly, then mulled it over. ¡°A mess. I would make a mess while trying to save the souls of those corrupted by their good intentions. Merely killing those involved would result in it being tried again. Even those who are in charge, such as myself and Bishop Derrick? There will always be someone along to try such a fool thing again. It would need to be ripped out root and stem.¡±

    ¡°A problem,¡± Voltar said. ¡°Our killer decides to murder Miss Leliel, and then immediately makes efforts to limit collateral damage. This fits with the idea that they are trying to shut down the program and wish only those directly involved dead. The first murder may have been a mistake, something that slipped their mind in the moment, only to now course correct after the Diabolic corruption made a statue murder several innocent people uninvolced in this.¡±

    ¡°But then the issue arises,¡± Doctor Dawes said. ¡°Evil, or what others consider evil? It dies slow. Takes time to die. Killing an idea? Especially one that grants power, or worse, you can convince yourself that it¡¯s wielded for the right reasons. So our killer would want something that discredit the program. Diabolism run amuck is that.¡±

    Bishop Derrick nodded solemnly.

    ¡°Their existence discredits it,¡± I pointed out. ¡°A loose cannon who takes a deal that burns themselves out, and in the process makes it clear that the overall damage could have been much worse. Even better, they get agitation within the city against diabolism and anything related to it thanks to how public the murders were. And a high chance it gets found out the program exists.¡±

    ¡°A deal that burns them out?¡± Bishop Derrick asked.

    ¡°Power to deconsecrate a church doesn¡¯t come cheap,¡± I said. ¡°Can you say none of your Diabolists took a deal without you knowing it?¡±

    Their silence was all the answer I needed as I continued.

    ¡°Just a theory. Power of that kind can be gotten three ways. Unless one of your trainees got very lucky or has an interesting lineage, they made another deal. Cast it into the Hells, a begging for power. If you want to accept something ruinous to you, you will get power. And now that person might be running rampant through your program. How do you think the Imperial Government is going to take it?¡±

    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you know that?¡± Gallaspie said darkly. ¡°All of you work for it.¡±

    ¡°Contractor,¡± Voltar said, with Dawes echoing him.

    ¡°Over my head,¡± said Walston.

    ¡°Dog!¡± Tagashin added, and Gallaspie¡¯s gaze turned to me.

    ¡°Woof.¡±

    The bishop cursed, then stomped off, muttering angrily. Forcrick was not far behind.

    Gregory frowned. I turned my attention back to Leliel Starken¡¯s corpse. More slime. I frowned. While it was entirely possible that this had all slowly dripped off her body while we¡¯d been talking, this seemed far too big a puddle.

    ¡°Voltar?¡± I asked. ¡°I think I have an alternate to both of those theories.¡±

    He frowned, probably thinking I meant the Whisper.

    ¡°Everyone away from the slime,¡± I ordered, and now I had everyone¡¯s attention. Gregory and Dawes moved away, and Tagashin came closer from the door. ¡°Not everything got purified by the killer.¡±

    I was wondering if you would notice, The Imp cackled, the damnable thing finally making it¡¯s presence known. I couldn¡¯t betray a fellow of the Hells.

    A low guttural laugh echoed through the temple, and the body of Leliel Starken twitched on the ground.

 Book 2 - Chapter 16 - Lead III

    Starken¡¯s corpse struggled to its feet, the devil wearing it maneuvering bloated flesh with disgusting proficiency. Legs wobbled as it took a step closer, mutated bone and muscle not able to stand if diabolic will didn¡¯t drive it. The strange liquid poured from every pore now, and while her body had given off not a peep of diabolism when prodded with my focus, now the energy being pumped into the slime was so thick I could feel it through the air.

    ¡°Ignore the corpse,¡± I warned, falling back to where everyone else had gathered by the doors. ¡°The liquid is the real threat, not the puppet.¡±

    That¡¯s all Starken was now.

    Slime coalesced, forming tentacles of ooze that lifted Starken¡¯s corpse in the air as the laugh continued. Her jaw wrenched open, snapping as the possessing devil stretched it beyond the breaking point. A fat, swollen tongue licked razor-sharp teeth covered in dry blood while the old human ones fell to the ground below.

    I relaxed just a tad. If it was acting solely like an animal, it wouldn¡¯t be too dangerous. Just don¡¯t let it touch anyone but me.

    Still, it had laughed, so capable of speech. I glanced down at the ground and spotted a thin tendril.

    A lance of light shot from Gregory¡¯s hands, and the tip of it disintegrated. The rest of it recoiled, sending a bench flying as it pulled back.

    Starken¡¯s lifeless gaze turned to stare at me, the guttural laughter turning into the language of the Hells.

    ¡°An interesting company you keep, Daughter of a Duke. Surely your father¡¯s daughter with your betrayal of family.¡±

    I¡¯d learned this language mostly for the damn summonings. Rusty as I was, the only difficult part was the sound of words feeling like nails dragging along the insides of my ears. ¡°Definitely intelligent,¡± I said in Anglish, before switching to Infernal. ¡°I claim no father from your realm, you repugnant puppeteer. Piss off.¡±

    The Devil hissed a dry laugh as it¡¯s puppet moved closer, tendrils snaking out of the puddle of leaked fluids.

    ¡°Away, Foulhorn,¡± Gallaspie said dismissively. ¡°Keep this thing¡¯s tendrils from reaching beyond the door.¡±

    ¡°He is right,¡± Derrick added. ¡°Leave the creature to us.¡±

    I was about to protest when Gallaspie exploded into white light. My eyes shut, tears already streaming as I cussed out the priest for deciding to do that. My skin felt like sandpaper was rubbing on it.

    I forced open tear-filled eyes just in time to see Gallaspie lunge forward, a greatsword formed of that white light in his hands.

    Tendrils of slime rose to meet him, and in a pair of slashes, they fell apart, falling onto the ground below in a splash.

    Derrick gestured, and the ground beneath Starken broke open, a pair of chains lashing around the corpse¡¯s list. They pulled until they ripped the limbs off. Skin split, flesh parted, bones broke apart at the joints as the two arms fell to the ground.

    The devil shrieked and tried batting Gallaspie with another tendril only for the old man to move his hands, that blinding sword appearing once again. I saw the tendril dissolve, white light racing up its liquid surface to Starken¡¯s corpse before the white light forced my gaze away.

    The corpse-puppet lunged towards us when I looked back, only for Derrick to rush forward, hand closing around its neck. The corpse stopped, shrieking as a sickle formed in Derrick¡¯s other hand.

    She plunged it right into the corpse¡¯s forehead.

    ¡°You are dead, Leliel,¡± Derrick said sorrowfully. ¡°Let your body not be violated beyond your passing.¡±

    The body was limp, the demon inside snarling and roaring from inside but it¡¯s puppeterring of the corpse had ended. It could only yell defiance before Gallaspie drove a blade of shining light right into the puppet¡¯s face.

    It shrieked, the corpse-puppet glowing bright light out of every orifice.

    ¡°I can¡¯t hold it much longer Matthew,¡± Derrick warned.

    ¡°I¡¯m aware,¡± he said, letting go of the sword. ¡°Back. Quickly.¡±

    The two of them backed away, Gallaspie kneeling down. I went to move forward, only for Voltar to grab my arm.

    ¡°Might not be best,¡± he warned, and then the roof above the devil shuddered, then shattered as light poured in from above. Nothing but white, and now my eyes screamed as I stumbled backward.

    My hands reached through a potion while the devil¡¯s shriek was like a knife in both ears.

    The soothing sensation of the potion beginning to work helped ease the dry riverbed my throat had become. Even still, each gulp felt like swallowing sand. Damnable Light and its effects!

    Leliel¡¯s corpse lay half-buried by the rubble of the roof, hands futilely reaching for an escape. The corpse was completely motionless, frozen in place. I heard just on the edge of what I could catch, a shriek of rage and despair.

    The devil, screaming out of frustration in its last moments on this plane as it was sent hurtling to its home.

    I stared at the corpse, then at the hole in the ceiling, then at Gallaspie standing over the body, an actual physical sword in his hand, not just one of light. It shined, and just looking at it made my still sore eyes ache.

    ¡°Your tongue threatens to leave its home, devil,¡± he told me irritably. ¡°Did you think me simply a tired old man?¡±

    I shut my jaw with an audible clack. I tried to think of what to say, only to blank. The frightening realization that if that sword was turned on me, I couldn¡¯t stop it? That tended to make any snappy remarks leave my head.

    Divine magic. Clearly more powerful than I¡¯d expected. Although from the similarly shocked expression on Gregory¡¯s face, these two might be outliers.

    ¡°A possessed devil,¡± Derrick noted, looking down at the corpse with an expression of disgust. ¡°It must have been summoned by the killer. Eliminate all traces of the corruption, leave no one to suspect the devil hiding within.¡±

    Possession was an old tool of devils, although typically it involved a willing host. Or one whose mind the Devils as certain could be shackled to its whims. A dead body was a case I had never heard of before now.

    ¡°Clever trick,¡± Voltar noted, looking down at the top half of Starken protruding from the collapsed rubble. ¡°Very clever.¡±

    Gallaspie snorted. ¡°Clever? The creature died before it could accomplish any havoc. Not very clever at all.¡±

    ¡°It died because it knew the jig was up, my dear Bishop,¡± Voltar said. ¡°I will admit to being at a little of a loss for why it thought producing so much of this slime was a good idea though.¡±

    ¡°No experience,¡± I said, poking some of the inert slime with my Diabolic focus. No reaction, but there hadn¡¯t been any earlier. What was this?

    ¡°Could you elaborate, Miss Harrow?¡±

    ¡°Just a theory,¡± I said. ¡°Based on something Gregory said about the goal of the Diabolism program. Researching the hells because we know so little of what is going on there. The same goes in reverse. Powerful devils, they can still scry. Lesser ones like this? If they haven¡¯t been here for a while, why not think a trick that probably worked in centuries past worked this time? Back then, people didn¡¯t know the full array of tricks Devils pulled in playing dead or counting on all of their body parts being corruptive. This stuff isn¡¯t though. Not anymore.¡±

    Gallaspie grunted. ¡°It should all be burned anyway.¡±

    ¡°Agreed,¡± I said. ¡°It was definitely intelligent, and I wouldn¡¯t expect the slime to be its only trick.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Bishop Derrick said, serenely walking over like she hadn¡¯t just chokeslammed Starken¡¯s corpse into the ground. The hells was with these seemingly old people moving better than most a third of their apparent age?

    Then again, my aunt was much the same. Magic.

    ¡°If it isn¡¯t too rude,¡± she continued. ¡°The devil appeared to be talking to you. If what it said was relevant, we¡¯d appreciate knowing.¡±

    And with Gallaspie right behind her, a reminder of what might await me if I refused.

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t,¡± I said dismissively. ¡°Devil had some choice opinions about my parentage is all.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± She asked with a slight frown. ¡°Why would it have cause for that?¡±

    Did they not know? Well, I was hardly going to let them know it, especially-

    ¡°She is the daughter of a duke of the hells,¡± Gallaspie said scornfully. ¡°Related to the son who attempted to subvert this city, and his ally once upon a time.¡±

    ¡°Before anyone judges me for not slitting his throat on the way out,¡± I said mildly. ¡°I just want to say a whole lot of people also failed at that. And continue to fail at that.¡±

    ¡°Bishop Derrick, Bishop Gallaspie,¡± Voltar said, leaning down by what was left of Starken¡¯s corpse. ¡°Not to interrupt your attempted grilling of one of my aides, but since we have thoroughly smote the corpse, can we attempt to get some of the rubble out of the way?¡±

    I took the chance to fall back, leaving them to the corpse of the devil. Although the temptation to add a second corpse was growing. The imp had gone quiet after its little boast about not telling me about the other devil.

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    I ended up near Gregory, mostly because being near Forcreek didn¡¯t appeal, and Tagashin was nowhere in sight. Doctor Dawes was with Voltar and the two bishops.

    ¡°I think this case ends with me and that man trying to kill each other,¡± I whispered, looking at Gallaspie.

    ¡°Surely you don¡¯t mean to suggest that our fair Bishop Gallaspie, who has outright agreed with the killer¡¯s motive, could possibly be the killer?¡± Gregory said lightly.

    ¡°Perhaps I¡¯m just biased,¡± I muttered back. ¡°The man is so hateable. Also, it is interesting that he thinks it impossible for anyone in the program to be murdering their fellow priests, yet also considers the mere act of using diabolism something that permanently corrupts the soul.¡±

    Gregory nodded, a wary eye out as if Gallaspie or his lackey were lurking around the corner. ¡°It does seem suspicious. I was told the Halspus clergy were involved entirely in a supervisory role, so none of them should have any Diabolist talents. And both of them decry the program as a barely necessary evil. But if anyone would be willing to damn their souls as they see it in return for ending this?¡±

    ¡°Possible,¡± I muttered. ¡°We need to test that somehow.¡±

    ¡°Do you have a knife for it?¡±

    I laughed drily. ¡°No. There should be methods. Or we can just keep a watch on both of them. And even if neither one is the killer, it might be worth picking their brains for the killer¡¯s mindset.¡±

    ¡°Besides, sticking him with a knife might end in you losing an arm,¡± Gregory noted.

    I hissed between my teeth as I watched Gallaspie talk with Derrick. Not even a hint of that blazing sword under his robe.

    ¡°Yes,¡± I admitted. ¡°I think that would complicate things a fair bit. Maybe not too much.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Gregory asked. ¡°Plotting his murder already?¡±

    I scowled. ¡°Look I don¡¯t care for you insisting-¡±

    He held his hands up placatingly. ¡°It¡¯s not a condemnation Malvia. Genuine. Especially when discussing the hypothetical of him being the killer.¡±

    I raised my eyebrow a little at that phrasing, implying even without the hypothetical of Gallaspie being the killer, discussing his death would be just fine.

    ¡°Certainly not with Diabolism,¡± I said. ¡°Between the sword, the deity, and everything else he¡¯s practically designed to be immune. Honestly? I expect that even if a blow had been landed, it wouldn¡¯t have done much. The amount of divine power he used towards the end there? Just channeling it through his body may have disintegrated those tendrils on contact. No, I¡¯d settle for two answers he doesn¡¯t seem suited for.¡±

    ¡°And what would those be?¡± Gregory murmured, eyes on the lookout for any watching.

    ¡°Bullet and surprise,¡± I said. ¡°He¡¯s human. As far as we know. Humans fall remarkably quickly to either of those two.¡±

    ¡°Could you arrange it?¡±

    I paused, looking in confusion at a deadly serious Gregory.

    ¡°Excuse me?¡± I asked. ¡°Could you repeat that?¡±

    ¡°If we needed to, how quickly could you arrange it?¡± he repeated.

    I frowned. ¡°Why do you want a specific plan to kill him?¡±

    ¡°It just seems prudent is all,¡± Gregory replied.

    Prudent? The man had been horrified by deaths he caused a month ago, had frozen up fighting Shapechangers, and now was trying to organize a hit on a Halpusian bishop like it was no big thing?

    Where was my paralytic-coated knife when I needed it?

    ¡°I¡¯d need more information,¡± I said. ¡°His patterns, his routines, and more importantly who are you and what have you done with Gregory Montague?¡±

    ¡°Are you upset that I¡¯m suggesting this?¡± He asked me quietly. ¡°Listen, if he is the-¡°

    ¡°Shhh,¡± I said, looking at where Gallaspie and Derrick were at the far end of the church, Forcreek alongside them. ¡°Utter lunacy. You want to talk about killing someone who we don¡¯t even know is the killer yet? Nonsense. This conversation is over.¡±

    Hopefully Gregory would pick up that this was a conversation for a more private location. Both about what could be done, and why he suddenly was so murder-happy.

    ***

    By now, Voltar had given up on getting the rubble away, and he and the bishops had wandered off, leaving only Forcreek by the body, sitting next to it, eyes closed, muttering under his breath.

    ¡°Sad, isn¡¯t it?¡± I remarked.

    My voice startled the aide out of his vigil, and he recoiled upon realizing I was near, one hand raised as he got to his feet. He nearly tripped on his robe putting distance between us, and ended up with only an additional foot, huffing and puffing as his hand pointed towards me.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± I said, holding my hands up completely empty, hoping that he wasn¡¯t fool enough to try blasting me with divine magic. ¡°Didn¡¯t mean to startle you. Knew the victim well?¡±

    ¡°What do you care?¡± he snapped, coughing as soon as he got those words out. ¡°Aren¡¯t you some kind of diabolist gang member?¡±

    ¡°Ex-gang member,¡± I said, keeping my hands up as I walked a little to the side. His arm tried to follow me, shaking as it did so. ¡°I¡¯d like to state that neither being a criminal or a diabolist necessarily means a deficiency in moral character.¡±

    ¡°All trafficking with the Hells does,¡± he says, eyes narrowing.

    ¡°Fair enough,¡± I said, shrugging slightly. ¡°Still, doesn¡¯t mean I can¡¯t think something¡¯s sad. No one deserves to die like this. Or to have their corpse used like this after death.¡±

    He eyed me suspiciously, and I was struck by how young he was. I wasn¡¯t that old, but he looked younger than Melissa, the battered spectacles and blonde hair framing a boyish face still losing some of that baby fat. Strange that someone so young would be a Bishop¡¯s personal aide.

    ¡°That we can agree on,¡± he said somberly. ¡°A strange opinion coming from someone in a district full of cannibals.¡±

    Gallaspie was close. Gallaspie was close. It wasn¡¯t worth beating some sense into this fool, who wouldn¡¯t understand after, especially if it resulted in that sword being rammed right through my eye socket.

    ¡°You ever been hungry, Mr. Forcreek?¡± I asked him.

    ¡°Yes,¡± he said. ¡°Many times, and never did I choose to eat the flesh of my fellow man. Nor of any thinking being.¡±

    ¡°Good for you,¡± I said sincerely. ¡°Try being hungry when there¡¯s no food, not even rats because there¡¯s not even garbage for them to live in, and when charity gets brought in, it gets seized so it can go to the actual worthy poor? Do you want to guess the symbol on the vestments of the priests who arranged that?¡±

    I didn¡¯t even pay attention to his reply. I needed out.

    ***

    Outside the church now. Walston had stomped off to her picket line shortly after the devil¡¯s death, apparently with some grievance against Voltar and the bishops. I didn¡¯t care. It meant privacy for me here on the outside with no one around.

    ¡°You know,¡± Tagashin disguised as Barnes said as I suddenly became aware of leaning against the wall two feet to my right, ¡°I thought it would be much quicker before you found yourself out here.¡±

    I¡¯d thought too soon. An easy mistake. I let out a slow, tired breath.

    ¡°Where were you?¡± I asked Tagashin quietly.

    ¡°Up top,¡± she replied. ¡°The thing in there? Lesser prey than even you would be, and the two bishops would have it handled before I could say boo. Besides, revealing myself to them and giving away Voltar has a kitsune in their pocket? Much less useful than what I did instead.¡±

    ¡°And what would that be?¡± I murmured. These were thick walls of sea life and rock, but best not to take the chance of a Forcreek with his ear on the other side of it.

    ¡°Enjoying the morning breeze,¡± she said. ¡°It smells so pleasant coming off the Nover, I could smell every little piece of trash and refuse that everyone dumps in it, as well as the stench of the kind of river-dweller that eats on that garbage.¡±

    I rolled my eyes. ¡°Seriously.¡±

    ¡°Oh, no fun,¡± she teased. ¡°Fine. Keeping an eye on who would show up. Just in case your rather murderous twin decided to show up.¡±

    I frowned. We weren¡¯t literal twins, but Versalicci would fit the bill, but even with his rather cavalier appearances above-ground he¡¯d never come this far afield. And definitely not near the watch. And how could Tagashin know about Melissa?

    ¡°You mean the killer,¡± I said, cursing my mind for having taken that tangent.

    ¡°Of course, I meant the killer,¡± she said, curiosity blooming on her face. ¡°Who did you think I meant?¡±

    I tried to think of a way out, then realized that throwing the kitsune something would be better than having her take an interest in ferreting out.

    ¡°When you¡¯re talking to someone like me, discussing an evil twin is not so distant a possibility,¡± I admitted.

    Her eyes practically sparkled at that thought. ¡°Oh, an evil twin? What, would they be wearing an eyepatch.¡±

    ¡°We are not having this discussion,¡± I said.

    ¡°Ooh, she¡¯d be in a black fancy dress, and she¡¯d need an even more evil name somehow. Tyrannia Barrow?¡±

    ¡°Could you please stop talking nonsense?¡± I snapped, tempted to go have Voltar repeat whatever trick had sent her hurtling through a train when she tried running away last time.

    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re just upset because you want to be the one in a fancy black dress,¡± Tagashin teased.

    Damnable Kitsune, could she not be accurate?

    ¡°I am not dignifying that with a response,¡± I said as calmly as I could. A tirade about the budget limitations of shady Infernal alchemists was on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed it. ¡°Did you spot anything of actual interest?¡±

    ¡°A few things,¡± she admitted. ¡°Not our killer I think. The people attracted seemed more worried than interested. And none of them seemed the diabolist. More like people wondering why a devil was suddenly in the city.¡±

    ¡°Still worth noting,¡± I said.

    ¡°Of course, which is why I¡¯ve got a way to keep track of them. For later. But going off chasing one of them might missing a later one. Speaking of, your special guest is still in our carriage.¡±

    Melissa. I raised an eyebrow. ¡°She hasn¡¯t made a run for it yet.¡±

    ¡°Nope. And I haven¡¯t been peaking, so if you wanna find out why, that¡¯s on you.¡±

    I considered it, then nodded. It seemed as good as anything else I could do for right now.

    ***

    Melissa lay on her back in the carriage, reading a book. I frowned as I read the title. The Case of the Man-eating House.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to guess which of them keeps fictional retellings of their own cases in here,¡± I said as I sat across from her. ¡°Interesting read?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± she said, thumbing to the next page, not even glancing my way. ¡°Fictitious?¡±

    ¡°Exaggerated or changed for the parts that can¡¯t be made public,¡± I said. ¡°Skeleton¡¯s probably real, some of the fat¡¯s been trimmed to keep it actually publishable without the government coming down on them like a ton of bricks.¡±

    ¡°And these are the people you work for now?¡± She said, looking up with a coy little grin.

    ¡°They¡¯re the people I¡¯m stuck working with because Golvar decided to drag me into a mess that outed me to everyone,¡± I growled angrily. ¡°I don¡¯t know what pisses me off more, that I got dragged into a swirling typhoon of chaos by him or that he didn¡¯t live to experience it himself.¡±

    The little bit of amusement left her face, replaced by fury.

    ¡°Do not talk about him like that,¡± she hissed. ¡°He deserved more than death with only a traitor to witness it!¡±

    I eyed her warily, then slowly nodded. ¡°Speaking out of line. I should have held my tongue.¡±

    Her eyes were on the verge of tears as she managed to get out a simple ¡°Do.¡±

    I sighed. Not going as planned. ¡°Book any good?¡±

    She eagerly went for a chance to discuss anything but Golvar. ¡°It¡¯s alright. A good way to waste time for now.¡±

    ¡°You seem pretty eager to stay inside,¡± I said. ¡°Thought you would have made a run for it by now.¡±

    She scoffed. ¡°Yes, make a run for it. In front of two bishops, who knows how many Watch, and all of you, into a district reeling from a beloved figure of the community who was killed with Diabolism. I can¡¯t imagine why I wouldn¡¯t do that.¡±

    ¡°You had your shot,¡± I said. ¡°When we were all in the temple. Just a line of watch, citizens behind. Easy to make a run for it.¡±

    ¡°You were right,¡± she snapped. ¡°Was that so hard to hear? Hells below, the entire pantheon of those gutless hypocrites utilizing Diabolism. And they preach about the evils of doing so?¡±

    ¡°Think that¡¯s mostly the Halspusians,¡± I said. ¡°The rest of that anti-diabolist sentiment is more secular than the other religions chipping in. Remember who is the crown¡¯s patron deity?¡±

    ¡°Says the person working with a bishop of theirs,¡± Melissa said drily.

    ¡°Like I have more of a choice in that than I do with Voltar?¡± I asked. ¡°Besides, defying that one¡­.deadly man.¡±

    I had actually looked outside, to where Voltar and Gallaspie had finally exited the temple, when someone else caught my eye. Someone else I knew, and who was making a belline for the carriage. Dressed as any other vagrant, he wasn¡¯t drawing any attention as he neared.

    ¡°Get out, now. Unless you wanna be chained alongside me,¡± I snapped, and eyes widening, Melissa opened the other side of the carriage and scampered out.

    I recomposed myself. Okay, this was arguably inevitable, although why approaching me and why now was a bit of a puzzle. They should have been involved from the start.

    Samuel Voltar entered the carriage, looking at the door I¡¯d shut after Melissa had left through it.

    ¡°Disagreement of some kind?¡± He asked innocently.

    I couldn¡¯t hide Melissa being a diabolist, not with Gregory knowing as well. I¡¯d downplayed it as much as I could with Voltar, and could only hope he didn¡¯t inform Intelligence. He didn¡¯t seem particularly enamored with them. But there was no pretending someone hadn¡¯t been in the couch or who they were.

    ¡°A discussion of bishops,¡± I said. ¡°A disagreement over them. Versalicci making his opinions know. On the topic of siblings, your brother isn¡¯t in here.¡±

    ¡°I know,¡± he said as he settled in the seat across from me. ¡°You¡¯ll have to go fetch him.¡±

    I raised an eyebrow, but didn¡¯t argue such a mundane and minor point. ¡°He¡¯s in discussion with the bishops at the moment, do you want me to fetch them as well?¡±

    ¡°The bishops and their attendants will have to wait,¡± Samuel Voltar noted drily. ¡°A third cleric is dead at the hands of diabolists.¡±

 Book 2 - Chapter 17 - Lead IV

    To Samuel¡¯s displeasure, his brother did not want to leave the religious half of our contingent in the dark, resulting in two things. First, the second carriage following shortly behind us, and second the tense atmosphere in the air between the two brothers inside ours.

    Despite picking up Samuel, the cramped seating from before had opened up. Melissa had left at my urging, probably on her way back to the Black Flame where maybe information on what was occurring would forestall any punishment for going against Versalicci¡¯s orders. Gregory had been practically ordered to join the two bishops and Forcreek in their carriage, where he likely was getting a private tongue-lashing for revealing the Diabolism program¡¯s existence. And Tagashin?

    Tagashin had apparently convinced Voltar to let her drive.

    For the first three minutes, I¡¯d been terrified of the sure-to-come carriage accident that would doom us all. With the furry harbinger of chaos holding the reins, it was sure to happen.

    Instead, it happened, although thus far we¡¯d barely avoided collisions with two carts, one carriage, two ogres who had swore at us, one who had managed to rip a lamp off the corner, and one automaton whose inventor had started screaming about us ruining it¡¯s ¡®pathing protocol¡¯ as it stomped errantly towards a crowd of screaming onlookers.

    We hadn¡¯t crashed yet, which, to Tagashin, was probably the most important part.

    It was at least something to pay attention to instead of trading uneasy glances with Dawes while Samuel stared daggers at an unfazed Voltar.

    ¡°Brother,¡± Samuel finally said, voice icy. ¡°You do realize this is why I don¡¯t normally involve myself with your activities? And that this, this is why normally only Christianson even bothers?¡±

    ¡°I rather thought it was because Christianson enjoys making me suffer,¡± Voltar replied. ¡°After all, he¡¯s so gleeful about making me endure these trips to strange foreign lands, practically guaranteed to get me into trouble.¡±

    "The point being when a member of Intelligence tells you to do something, Edmund, consider your options and their consequences before deciding to do the exact opposite of them.¡±

    ¡°I did,¡± Voltar said, with a long-suffering roll of the eyes. ¡°And you are aware of the reasons why you did it, you¡¯re just blustering because you dislike Bishop Derrick. I am not jeopardizing a fragile partnership with a group that is helping our investigation. It¡¯s not like this latest killing will be kept under wraps for long, so they¡¯d be offended the moment they found out. Something only hastened by the fact we¡¯d be leaving the current crime scene in a hurry following your directions.¡±

    Samuel¡¯s expression was only growing harder and angrier with each word out of his brother¡¯s mouth, and I decided to try and defuse it before he burst.

    ¡°Why do you have an issue with Bishop Derrick?¡± I asked, and refused to wilt as that furious gaze swung my way. ¡°Honestly, between the two of them, she¡¯s rather personable compared to the other one. Hells, even if you remove the low bar that is Bishop Gallaspie, she seems rather alright.¡±

    ¡°Personality has nothing to do with it,¡± Samuel said in a short, clipped tone. ¡°Interfering in Imperial Intelligence business does.¡±

    ¡°Intelligence was going after a lich,¡± Voltar told me. ¡°Derrick got to her first and ended her. Honestly, brother, it¡¯s not like that was the worst outcome. The lich is no longer a threat, isn¡¯t she?¡±

    ¡°Her books aren¡¯t,¡± Samuel replied. ¡°Disappeared, along with all her paraphernalia and equipment.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s the sacred duty of Zaviel¡¯s priests to keep any way to raise the dead, or live as the undead, away from all,¡± Dawes said quietly but firmly.

    Samuel didn¡¯t seem to pay the rebuke any mind. ¡°Outside of Derrick interfering with Intelligence before now, no one is particularly keen on giving these priests any allowance. They know Her Majesty¡¯s stance on Diabolism, and chose to violate it anyway.¡±

    ¡°So did I,¡± I pointed out. ¡°You ended up recruiting me, so why not the same with them?¡±

    Samuel gave me a pointedly annoyed look. There was a clean, simple difference that informed all of that, which was my recruiting was less a matter of choice and more a case of join or fall victim to the law¡¯s regarding diabolism. Which meant a noose, an axe, a silver spike, or that fancy falling-blade device they¡¯d started importing from overseas.

    Diabolists who belonged to important organizations willing to shield them and make it difficult to force them into a similar situation? Such as religions? I could see Intelligence¡¯s frustration in dealing with Diabolists they couldn¡¯t coerce.

    ¡°Well brother, surely if we don¡¯t need their help, this must mean Intelligence has the matter well in hand?¡± Voltar asked, and the glare once again swung back towards him.

    ¡°Intelligence is busy trying to keep this from reaching the attention of the general populace,¡± Samuel said. ¡°With the shape-changer incident having then pretending to be the Black Flame and the marches in the Quarter ending the way we did, the last thing we want is even more unrest among or aimed at the Quarter.¡±

    Almost touching, if I wasn¡¯t sure that it was more about riots damaging things Her Majesty¡¯s government actually cared about. Or worse, draining her recruitment pool.

    ¡°We did assign agents to watch those priests who entered Father Reginald¡¯s church yesterday. I found the corpse of the one assigned to watch Starken underneath the pier, cut from sternum to throat.¡±

    ¡°Not diabolism?¡± Voltar asked.

    ¡°Probably worried about his target noticing,¡± I said. ¡°There are ways to detect diabolism, or just magic in general, that don¡¯t work on stabbing or cutting up your victim.¡±

    In some ways the simple knife remained the best tool if you wanted to kill without being noticed.

    ¡°That or someone else was responsible,¡± Voltar said. ¡°I¡¯m more worried about the fact they apparently got the drop on one of your people Samuel.¡±

    ¡°Not everyone is perfect, Edmund,¡± he replied. ¡°But it is noted. It was a newer watcher, but even still, at least some level of skill involved.¡±

    ¡°Supports the idea of multiple attackers more than anything else,¡± I admitted. ¡°The attack on Starken was sloppy. With multiple blows to take her down, Starken could have fought back. Yet didn¡¯t, even with magic. Our killer got lucky.¡±

    An accomplice more talented than their partner? Certainly possible, with one being the string holder of a diabolist puppet. A very dangerous puppet to pull the strings on though.

    ¡°Another thing,¡± Samuel told me. ¡°We can¡¯t discount the possibility that it isn¡¯t a member of this unified religion diabolism program doing these murders. Which means the possibility that it was someone employed or contracted by Intelligence.¡±

    ¡°That can¡¯t be a long suspect list,¡± I pointed out.

    ¡°It¡¯s not,¡± he admitted. ¡°Two dozen, which will get whittled down further as we toss out those physically incapable of being there. Starting with you, who was asleep well before, during, and far after the murder took place. Your need to get beauty sleep has well and truly exonerated you.¡±

    I stared blankly at him. He¡¯d just admitted that they were watching my every move, but all of what had occurred these last few days had been allowed? The most charitable answer was that those capable of watching weren¡¯t necessarily capable of intervening. The uncharitable one was that with two dozen other Diabolists, keeping me alive wasn¡¯t worth risking anyone else.

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    ¡°So,¡± I said slowly. ¡°You want us to look into those you can¡¯t prove didn¡¯t commit the murders.¡±

    ¡°Yes, but not just that,¡± Samuel admitted. ¡°This should have been handled from the start, but there were arguments we should wait for this step. See what we have in you before we make any kind of investment.¡±

    ¡°I imagine this is more a situation of your hand being forced than you finding out?¡±

    A reluctant nod from him. ¡°We want you to engage in training under another Diabolist we know couldn¡¯t have committed the murders.¡±

    ¡°Hrrm,¡± I said, grinning. ¡°Tell me more!¡±

    Traitor! The Imp yelled, finally breaking its silence after gloating about the other devil. Do not be swayed by false promises from gluttonous tempters who have surely gained their weight by tricking their rivals!

    ¡°Not a practice done on this plane,¡± Samuel said, then with a slight twitch of his mustache he continued. ¡°Also. I am not that large.¡±

    ¡°Ignore it,¡± I said, tapping the side of my head. ¡°They¡¯re just upset that you¡¯ve offered this after a round of rather nasty behavior from it in recent days.¡±

    I helped you discover the Diabolist¡¯s lair in Glee Street, The Imp growled. I have been more helpful than you wish to credit me.

    ¡°You also didn¡¯t warn me there was a devil lurking in the most recent victim¡¯s corpse, which is more harmful than that,¡± I countered, then decided to just give up. Arguing with the Imp was just a distraction from more important matters. ¡°What¡¯s this diabolist¡¯s name?¡±

    ¡°Her name is Alberta Vesper,¡± Samuel told me. ¡°Older lady has been doing careful research for the crown for decades, and has managed it without a single incident.¡±

    The implied rebuke about the number of incidents I¡¯d collected I let go.

    ¡°She¡¯d be willing to train me?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s willing to do many things to ensure the flow of imperial coinage for her research continues,¡± Samuel replied.

    So a reluctant teacher, but that was something I could work with. ¡°And I¡¯d be going there just to learn?¡±

    Samuel hesitated slightly. ¡°There are some concerns. If there is anyone with capabilities we are unaware of it, it¡¯s her.¡±

    ¡°So my training comes with the catch of being tossed to a potential killer, there to make sure on your behalf she can¡¯t say, be in two places at once?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Hardly an imposition,¡± Samuel said. ¡°If anything, we are all very confident in your ability to get out of tight jams with ease.¡±

    Voltar had a serene, calm expression on his face like he had for the entire carriage ride, and Doctor Dawes was more worried than confident, but I let it pass. It wasn¡¯t a dealbreaker even if she was the killer.

    The agent intends to feed you to wolves child The Imp wailed. Trust in my own short-sightedness if nothing else to keep me honest! I am a creature of gluttony, completely trustworthy as long as you account for my nature!

    ¡°Hrrm. An interesting decision you¡¯ve dumped in my lap,¡± I said. ¡°The passenger in my head is very upset over it being considered, which is a definite point in its favor. Mr. Voltar, Doctor Dawes, any thoughts?¡±

    I¡¯ll twist your guts so much eating a bite will cause you to burn from throat to ass! Said Passenger shrieked. I ignored it. Bad behavior earned it in return.

    Voltar raised an eyebrow. ¡°I¡¯m surprised you¡¯d take any I have under consideration.¡±

    Doctor Dawes smiles apologetically. ¡°I know what my advice would be, and I don¡¯t think it would be popular with anyone in here, so I¡¯ll keep my tongue to myself.¡±

    ¡°Ditch the diabolism girl!¡± Tagashin yelled from up on top of the carriage.

    Please let that not have started a panic. Also, she was one to talk, fey being full of magic that she was.

    ¡°I think it might be best to search out an alternate teacher regardless of any ulterior motives,¡± Voltar said. ¡°Trusting that thing inside your head seems a poor choice to make them for you seem a poor move.¡±

    Do not betray me! The Imp shrieked. I erred on not immediately informing you of the other devil, but that¡¯s no reason to throw yourself on the charity of that greedy buerecrat!

    Not entirely wrong there, I hardly trusted this sudden offer of a trainer much more than the Imp. But the Imp was a known quantity, and it¡¯s own lack of foresight was a drawback I could use to deal with it. A trainer belonging to Intelligence? That was being drawn further into their orbit, something I also didn¡¯t like.

    Using the two to counterbalance each other was an option though. One that was increasingly appealing.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be happy to accept your offer,¡± I told Samuel, ignoring the shriek in my head from the Imp. ¡°I¡¯m assuming we¡¯ll meet sometime after all this?¡±

    ¡°You can meet today,¡± he informed me. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure you receive the address. Three this afternoon should do unless you have a prior appointment?¡±

    I did, but not one that should last that long. Naturally, or if me and Uncle Liu drove each other to storm off once again.

    Voltar coughed politely. ¡°Not to interrupt this, but we do have a more pressing matter. A murder. Brother, is there a reason we¡¯re heading to what¡¯s left of the Central Dwarven gate?¡±

    I¡¯d been so caught up in the possibility of having leverage over the Imp, I¡¯d nearly forgotten about it as well. I looked outside and yeah, we were nearly upon it.

    Once the entrance to a Dwarven fortress bordering Avernon, it had swiftly been consumed by the rapidly growing city and had instead become the main route of trade and diplomacy into the dwarven kingdoms below. It stood proud and defiant, even in recent years a giant among the buildings around it, a solid bastion carved from rock, silver statues of ancient dwarven kings lining its walls. It had stood for millenia, a fortress none had conquered, the only ways in besides the massive, mechanism-powered stone gates were the numerous arrows slits along its surface.

    Even now, years after cannons had ripped the, it still stood. But the ancient gates had been forced open, the pathway to the underground forcibly converted to a highway. The ancient statues of dwarven royalty had lone been melted down into more funds for Her Majesty¡¯s government, the only statue one of Her Majesty above the gates. What was once a proclamation of the Dwarves strength was now a monument to their fall.

    We made our way through the traffic heading above and below. It had tapered off once the campaigns had ended, and the vast mineral wealth that was to be won with it had gone up in smoke. Now all that went down was enough that the Delver¡¯s could keep the monsters from making their way surface side, and a few expeditions still searching for that silver and gold.

    ¡°The victim is a dwarf,¡± Samuel said. ¡°Stonemaker Malata Oedeur, in service to the deity Zavan.¡±

    My ears perked up. ¡°Probably the same one that was among those who burst in on us,¡± I said to Voltar. ¡°Can¡¯t imagine there¡¯s any more priests on the surface in service to Zavan then there are to Savareth.¡±

    Savareth might not be the most popular of deities, but she had the advantage of not being a transplant from a race the empire had just been at war with. Or a race who had mostly migrated underground to far away from Anglea.

    ¡°The very same,¡± Samuel said. ¡°They didn¡¯t kill my watcher, although she didn¡¯t have the ability to take on a dozen Infernal Diabolists. She did manage to injure one, and their victim has ended one and probably injured another. An attempt to track the group did not work out. I¡¯m not sure what they did to my agent, but I¡¯m told she¡¯ll eventually be able to see again.¡±

    I could imagine a dozen ways Diabolism could inflict blindness, none of them in any way pleasant.

    ¡°She did get a good look at one of them who had bared a decent amount of skin,¡± Samuel continued, poking directly at me. ¡°Miss Harrow, why are Versalicci and the Black Flame involved in all of this?¡±

    I briefly thought on what to say. Couldn¡¯t reveal too much about Melissa, couldn¡¯t reveal too little that Voltar would want to expand on it. I had the feeling his desire to solve the case would extend beyond just making sure the Bishops were kept in the loop at least a little to keeping his brother informed to a similar extent.

    ¡°My only defense for not informing you of this is that I only found it out recently myself,¡± I said, quickly sketching out the events of last night, just leaving a few key details out such as anything hinting at Melissa potentially being my half-sister. The deal unfortunately had to be said, but I doubted Intelligence would be after that. Hells, if any of their diabolists were particularly loyal, one of them would have mentioned it by now.

    Samuel was stone-faced by the end, not a hint if he believed me or not by the end. Our carriage had come to a halt as well.

    ¡°I suppose this answers why a band of Infernal Diabolist have suddenly joined in on the murder spree, although why priests eludes me.¡±

    ¡°Devils make the terms of their deals arcane for a reason,¡± I said. ¡°Sometimes it¡¯s to hide their true goal behind layers of obfuscation. Sometimes it¡¯s to mess with mortals. Sometimes it''s to test and see if the mortal is worthy of further deals.¡±

    ¡°Also religions are their natural enemies,¡± Doctor Dawes noted. ¡°Errm, well Halspus especially but no following of one of the Pantheon wants to see Devils roaming the earth again.¡±

    ¡°I remain unconvinced that this is our killer¡¯s motive,¡± Voltar admitted. ¡°This patch of ambitious fools in Versalicci¡¯s employ perhaps, but not our main killer.¡±

    ¡°Please tell me you aren¡¯t romanticizing them,¡± I said drily, earning a snort from the detective.

    ¡°Hardly, but I do think there is more to them than a deal with a devil. Besides, all sense of romance left me at an early age. Isn¡¯t that right Samuel.¡±

    Samuel Voltar had vanished, and I gave his seat an unimpressed look.

    ¡°That tricks more surprising when you don¡¯t have to constantly deal with a kitsune,¡± I told it.

    Voltar chuckled a little. ¡°He¡¯s likely gone, and even if he had gone invisible, he¡¯s not anywhere near as tauntable as Tagashin.¡±

    ¡°I can hear you!¡± said kitsune yelled from atop the carriage, and the entire vehicle shuddered.

    The Empire¡¯s Greatest Detective nearly took a fall to the floor from that. I got out as quickly as I could, not wanting to be collateral damage if those two egos decided to start trading punches.

    Why couldn¡¯t more people just be humble like me and Dr. Dawes?

 Book 2 - Chapter 18 - Lead V

    The temple of Zavan had seen better days.

    Not in terms of the structure itself. Dwarf-built and carved stone formed a massive structure, easily stretching the height of town cavern we were in, seventy feet of mosaics depicting scenes from I assume the dwarven scripture, including several likenesses of what must by Zavan, pick in hand, digging through the earth.

    Hardly something I¡¯d call aspirational or inspiring, but when you spend most of your life underground? Perhaps a different story.

    No, what struck me as it seeing better days was how empty everything was. There were a few dwarves on the street as we exited the carriage, all of them moving as quickly as they could, sparing us not a glance. A small group of bored Watch had beaten us to the church, forming a picket line that was unneeded.

    No one was trying to get in. No one was watching. Nothing.

    I¡¯d say it was just because of the murder, but the streets leading up to here had been just as empty. What few dwarves had chosen to stay were going to need to make a decision soon, to head to the surface or stay in the emptying ruins of their old homes.

    Her Majesty¡¯s interest in the underground didn¡¯t have any intention of settling it, not yet at least.

    I walked closer, towards the picket line and just beyond, the slightly open stone doors. I could see a charred hand reaching out between the open doors, it¡¯s owner just around the corner.

    The other carriage had disgorged it¡¯s occupants as well, Walston going to talk to the Watch here, Gregory going in a futile attempt to keep peace because Tagashin and Voltar, and the two bishops walking to join us. Forcreek had disappeared, probably dropped off somewhere along the way or choosing to stay at Savareth¡¯s temple.

    ¡°The pace of murders increases,¡± Gallaspie rumbled, looking at the small stone temple with distaste. ¡°And we are no closer to catching those behind it.¡±

    I took a mental note that he assumed we must be dealing with multiple killers, and moved towards the front while ignoring him. It was the second day, hells, barely even that.

    Bishop Derrick sighed heavily, looking at the heavy stone doors. ¡°Poor Malata. She already risked so much staying near the surface, even more agreeing to practice Diabolism, only for this to happen.¡±

    Gallaspie opened his mouth, thought better of it, and then closed his tongue.

    ¡°Knew the victim well?¡± I asked Bishop Derrick.

    ¡°Malata and I collaborate well before the program. First in making sure the resting places of dead dwarves were secure even in the midst of the war, and then she helped ensure all resting places underground, no matter the race, were secure.¡± She smiled fondly. ¡°Always joked about how similar our deities name was.¡±

    ¡°Grating,¡± Gallaspie commented, apparently unable to help himself.

    ¡°Sometimes, but always willing to lend a hand,¡± Derrick said, her smile fading into a frown. ¡°That¡¯s what made her volunteer. Thats what got her killed.¡±

    ¡°She volunteered,¡± Gallaspie said gruffly, and anger flashed in Derrick¡¯s eyes for a second. If he noticed, he didn¡¯t say anything, walking past to the front gate.

    I traded looks with Voltar, who¡¯d walked up leaving a smug Tagashin on the carriage. However well these two cooperated normally, clearly this was putting a strain on their working relationship. That might be helpful in other circumstances, but for now keeping these two from infighting was needed. Last thing we needed is both leaders of the group being targeted spending more time tearing strips out of each other than helping us.

    ¡°There was an offering of information from Giovanni Versalicci,¡± Voltar said, trying to get their minds off of the victim for now. ¡°About some of his diabolists gone rogue. All of them, in fact. Sheds some light on this.¡±

    I resisted the urge to throttle him. Could he not? At least it was framed not in a way that brought attention on Melissa, which was something. And it would come out eventually that these were Flame, but that shouldn¡¯t mean Versalicci be given credit for anything remotely good.

    ¡°A trick,¡± Gallaspie said roughly. ¡°Never trust those words. The fact they originated from his forked tongue makes me even less likely to believe these are Flame.¡±

    ¡°I agree,¡± I said, getting a surprised glance from the bishop. ¡°He never shares information unless he gains something from it, but in this case? His hand is forced. Eventually someone would find out, and with what happened during the shape-changer case.¡±

    ¡°I see,¡± the Bishop said gruffly. ¡°Covering his tracks.¡±

    ¡°Entirely possible it¡¯s a scheme,¡± I admitted. ¡°I can¡¯t claim to have perfect insight into the mind of someone who tricked me for years. I was years younger and years more a fool back then, but still.¡±

    That nod of affirmation sent a hot tendril of anger worming through my gut. Me admitting my failings was not intended as any kind of reinforcement of his messed-up views of the world. Still, if it would keep him civil a while longer, I¡¯d keep that anger swallowed up.

    With that out of the way, we made for the temple.

    ¡°Everyone please stay clear of the corpse till we have it examned. Bishop, please do not kick the Infernal¡¯s body.¡±

    The inside of the temple was¡­ interesting.

    We were in a tunnel, one nowhere near the size of the temple itself, in fact small enough that both Dr. Dawes and Bishop Gallaspie had to stoop down some so they could fit inside the temple.

    A thick coating of dust greeted us, and a charred Infernal corpse by the door. Further down the tunnel lay Stonemaker Malata.

    The Stonemaker¡¯s corpse was on it¡¯s side, in the middle of a section of the tunnel floor cleared of dust. Instead, blood formed a star around her, and even at a distance I could see the feline head forcing it¡¯s way out of exposed back, the bristling red fur that looked as sharp as needles puncturing through skin in patches.

    More blood staining the tunnel behind her, and from the extra puddle I could see at one end of the star, just a bit further? Mayhaps one of the other would be-murderers had taken a bleeding wound trying to incapicitate her.

    ¡°Cat,¡± I observed mildly. ¡°Pride is what¡¯s been assigned. Interesting that they kept the calling card, or maybe the ritual really is grasping ahold of something inside them. Make any sense to either of our bishops?¡±

    It shouldn¡¯t, but something was clearly directing the changes of these people and their souls.

    Gallaspie didn¡¯t answer while Derrick nodded.

    ¡°Malata was prideful,¡± she said. ¡°Not to the point of sin, I¡¯d say. Proud of the fact she¡¯d kept her duty. Proud of peacefully joining her empire when so many of her kin chose to fight instead. Perhaps to the point of¡­well¡­antagonizing some members of her deity¡¯s worshippers.¡±

    Which would explain the disused nature of this temple. Perhaps her frequent conversations with Derrick had been more out of loneliness after having driven away her remaining flock. Not even a majority of dwarves left behind and forced to join the Anglean empire were happy. Maybe a slim minority at best.

    ¡°Everyone stay clear of the Stonemaker¡¯s body please,¡± Voltar requested. ¡°The layer of dust is thick enough that it might hold clues to the order of events. Just, for the moment, no one besides me beyond the threshold?¡±

    No one objected, and soon the detective was working his way around the edges of the tunnel, examining each square foot of floor before daring to disturb it. That left us with the corpse of the attacker.

    I knelt down, looking them over. Every inch of their skin had been charred, whether by divine magic or infernal flames hard to tell. I could still see the outline of the tattoo though, the flaming goat¡¯s head drawn into flesh deep enough that not even torching the flesh could hide it.

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    There would have been no hiding who this group was. Which mean if it became known to the general public, more pressure on the Infernals as well. Shite.

    Personal details besides that were a little hard to tell given how thoroughly his skin has been burnt. About as tall as me, male. Melissa might be able to make a guess if she were here, but without her I had no idea who this might be. I took a few samples, of skin, what might have been clothing. There might be something in either.

    ¡°First one bursts in the front door,¡± I said, getting up from the charred husk that had once been an Infernal. ¡°Bait, most likely.¡±

    ¡°As to be expected from the Flame,¡± Forcreek observed, getting a nod of approval from Walston that nearly made me gag.

    ¡°Not the Flame,¡± I corrected, earning a few looks of disbelief. ¡°Decoy was a diabolist. No matter what else you might say about him, Versalicci wouldn¡¯t spend a diabolist just to take down a priest. Hells, Versalicci being involved with this makes no sense.¡±

    I couldn¡¯t come out and say exactly why I knew it wasn¡¯t him. Only a few should know about the Whisper, even less about Melissa.

    ¡°She is right,¡± Gallaspie agreed. ¡°Don¡¯t underestimate them just because of your distaste, Acolyte. They are ruthless about using even the slightest underestimation of their cunning and deviousness.¡±

    Not exactly how I would have phrased it, but close enough. In all likelihood, the group was clearly not that tightly bound. Had the bait just been the weakest member, set up to fail because they needed a distraction? A power struggle within the group? Or was the deal on offer one where only one Diabolist could claim the prize?

    ¡°Malata kills the decoy, realizes soon after she¡¯s getting jumped but it¡¯s too late,¡± I said, looking down at the corpse. ¡°Gets a face full of rot or something similar for her troubles. Still managed to get a good blow in that leaves some of the second attacker¡¯s blood staining the wall. Then they drag her corpse over to the center and begin a ritual to change her and deconsecrate the church.¡±

    That was important. The chance this group was working with the Church killer was unlikely. If they were, they¡¯d just employ his help instead of using a strategy that guaranteed to get one of their number killed, and was still risky besides that. The Church killer also didn¡¯t need a slow, dangerous, vulnerable ritual in order to convert their victims into devils.

    ¡°Only two other attacks,¡± Voltar noted, looking over the floor. ¡°One with hooves and one with boots. No other signs of other attackers.¡±

    Gallaspie frowned. ¡°There were twelve seen fleeing the scene, wouldn¡¯t it-¡±

    ¡°Sentries,¡± Dr. Dawes interrupted quietly. ¡°When your target is unaware, you take as little chance of alerting them as possible. Twelve individuals loitering around, ones who stand out in the target environment? That would attract notice. Three would be pushing it, although I suspect the bait would be the most overt.¡±

    I really needed to sit down with Dawes at some point and discuss his military history with him. Voltar nodded.

    ¡°Precisely. The others were probably hidden, waiting for any signs of trouble. They interfere when they hear the sounds of violence. They quickly assemble and perform the ritual on her while she¡¯s still barely alive. She can¡¯t resist, and they get it over and done with. Voltar, are you done examining the footprints so I can come over there?¡±

    He nodded, standing up. ¡°If I could get Dr. Dawes as well? Assuming you are done with the Infernal¡¯s body?¡±

    ¡°Got what I can,¡± I said. ¡°Flames haven¡¯t left much for me to pick over. The Stonemaker?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll have more, but less likely to be useful,¡± he admitted. ¡°They used clubs instead of diabolsim. Beyond bruising, I don¡¯t see any signs of embedded splinters.¡±

    ¡°Hrrm,¡± I got closer, and with each step that bruising across the face and back of the head became more apparent, less hidden by the discoloration caused by the ritual changing her skin orange.

    They hadn¡¯t been frugal with those club blows either. The Stonemaker¡¯s face was more bruise than normal flesh, her nose was broken, one cheek, jaw dislocated.

    ¡°They really didn¡¯t want her conscious,¡± I said. ¡°No reluctance with this group. The rest of them must have come in soon after she was disabled, jumped on keeping her down.¡±

    They¡¯d need to have down this all quickly, after the first attack. This place was dying, but someone would have heard yelling and the flames. Eleven rushing about, raining blows on the dwarf to keep her from waking, setting up the ritual, and rushing it to completion before the Watch could intervene. Another one to deconsecrate the church, which I yelled a question about to Derrick.

    Yes, they had deconsecrated it. Eleven would be enough, with the priest whose house it was dead.

    I collected samples from what might be useful, a little bit of the cat hair, swabs of clothing where she might have been grabbed and dragged. Blood from the stains along the tunnel wall.

    Physical evidence might not win the day, but seeing two different groups of attackers working towards the same goal told us a fair bit.

    Whatever this deal offered by the devil was, the transforming of the priests, before or after death, was key. So was the deconsecrating of the churches. The group of fast-working Black Flame wouldn¡¯t have bothered with a time consuming ritual to do both if they didn¡¯t need to.

    And like that, some more fell into place. If the key to the deal was the transformations of priests, divine magic acted as a pretty good counter to that type of forced corruption. If the soul was already changed towards that goal in some way, say by using Diabolism, it would be easier to force a conversion than on say a non-Diabolist priest. Both would result in death, but one was much easier in terms of the sheer power of Diabolism needed than the other.

    This might mean that the Church killer wasn¡¯t as ideologically motivated as Voltar thought. It could just be going for targets they knew would be easy to change, while leaving the breadcrumbs of someone who had finally snapped or was trying to purify the world of the program.

    ¡°A thought strikes me,¡± Voltar said quietly. ¡°How did the Black Flame Diabolists know that Stonemaker Oedeur is a diabolist?¡±

    I froze. Shite, he was right, and I hadn¡¯t even thought about it. The idea of it being a coincidence was quickly dismissed, we were far underground and far away from the Quarter. How did they know she was a diabolist?

    ¡°A collaboration between the groups?¡± Doctor Dawes said. ¡°Although that leaves the question of how they knew to contact each other.¡±

    ¡°I doubt it,¡± I said. ¡°This group? Clearly aren¡¯t bosom friends with each other, and knowing there¡¯s a stronger, more powerful diabolist chasing the same deal is more likely to result in attempted sabotage.¡±

    ¡°One would think the devil offering would try to encourage it,¡± Dawes said.

    ¡°Depends on the terms of the deal,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s entirely possible everyone gets the same rewards at the end. Could be it¡¯s a set amount divided equally. Depends on what the goals are. Could be they are collaborating at killing multiple priests on the same day is trying to winnow down their needed kills as quickly as they can. But I think it has to be priests practicing Diabolism that¡¯s the key.¡±

    ¡°You think the targets were set by the devil?¡± Voltar asked.

    ¡°I think there would be an easier list of targets they could have gone for,¡± I said. ¡°The only thing that¡¯s easier is less energy spent changing them to devils. But your trading that for targets that are probably a bit tougher than your average priest, whose deaths at the hands of diabolism will immediately be noticed. And if one of these killers is a member of the program, killing their colleagues is going to bring attention to them.¡±

    ¡°It could fit,¡± Voltar admitted. ¡°Reluctance to do the attacks could easily be because he doesn¡¯t have other targets. Forcing their bodies to fit sins he assigns to them may be an attempt to justify the killings.¡±

    ¡°Reluctance to kill people,¡± Dawes said. ¡°In order for a deal with a devil?¡±

    ¡°Personal attachments do make wielding a knife harder for many,¡± I said. ¡°But the doctor has a good point. Our killer is committed for killing for a devil¡¯s cause, and I doubt this is just a trade of power for service. There¡¯s some greater aim utilizing these killings. Deities involved maybe?¡±

    Voltar frowned, thinking. ¡°Perhaps, although that¡¯s your area of expertise more than mine.¡±

    ¡°My understanding of divine magic is that it usually hurts and ranting from angry Halspus¡¯ priests,¡± I said drily. ¡°But point taken. I¡¯ll try to set aside some time to educate myself on this. For right now, if you don¡¯t mind I¡¯m going to see what the bishops have to say.¡±

    They had not left the Infernal corpse yet. Probably having their own private conversation much as we¡¯d held ours. Gregory wasn¡¯t here at all. Talking with Tagashin perhaps?

    I forced down a pang of something at that thought and gave the two Bishops my best toothy grin.

    ¡°Apologies for bothering you both, but if I can inquire, how many deities are involved in the program?¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± Gallaspie snapped, and Derrick frowned.

    ¡°Apologies for my colleague¡¯s rudeness, but while we are willing to share information about our program, only what is necessary to aid the investigation.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re trying to think if there¡¯s any factor besides the diabolism program that could link these targets,¡± I said. ¡°Especially if this is targeting for some diabolic ritual of some kind. The deities involved might inform the ritual being aimed at. If it was just someone within your group doing these killings, I might agree with Voltar that this is someone with a personal goal, but the involvement of this group suggests something more related to the Hells.¡±

    I knew it was, but for now these two didn¡¯t need to know that.

    The two of them traded glances, and then Gallaspie spoke up.

    ¡°The deities represented by the group who came to Father Reginald¡¯s after his passing. Those are the deities whose priests are involved.¡±

    I frowned. The twelve deities from the group that had broken into the church had been all that belonged to this group? I¡¯d have expected Maldeura, God of War and other patron deity of Her Majesty, or Ixilliae, the goddess of magic. More transplants from her travels or conquests.

    Twelve. Something about that gnawed at me, and as I thought further, I remembered. Tyler¡¯s sacrificial circle, twelve symbols stamped into metal. Twelve deities whose priests were practicing Diabolism.

    No, Halspus was only their to oversee, none of their priests were practicing the Infernal arts. But¡­.

    ¡°Ixilliae,¡± I said calmly. ¡°That¡¯s the deity whose involvement you¡¯re trying to hide, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    Gallaspie muttered angrily under his breath while Bishop Derrick sighed.

    ¡°High Arcanist Taldare asked that her involvement be kept as secret as possible,¡± she admitted. ¡°There are enough rumours about Ixilliae¡¯s followers experimenting with magic others deem-¡°

    ¡°Evil,¡± Gallaspie said. ¡°They practice evil with no care for the consequences.¡±

    Derrick was already responding, a bit of steel in that calm reply but I wasn¡¯t paying attention.

    Twelve deities involved after all. Twelve deities whose followers, those they¡¯d given divine magic, were also calling on the power of the Hells.

    I needed that disc from Tyler¡¯s house, assuming Holmsteader hadn¡¯t destroyed it yet. I checked my watch. There was enough time, just enough to head to Glee street before I met with my uncle.

    Just needed to meet with Holmsteader, who had just told me to stay away from her street earlier this morning.

    Maybe it wouldn¡¯t end in violence?