Infernal Investigations

Voltar was nearly last on the scene.

I sat idly over by the Thieves’ Guild coach, tail waving idly as the well-appointed coach screeched to a halt nearby. Tagashin was driving, as overconfidently as ever, and I waved.

The handcuffs around my hands clinked as I did so, and one of the nearby Watchman adjusted their grip on a pistol.

I rolled my eyes. These were laced with runes to keep any magic in check, I had half a dozen guns aimed directly at my head. I didn’t bother voicing any of that, not particularly wishing for the customary roughing up done of people who mouthed off to the Watch. The Thieves’ Guild members had done some initial snark that had gone unpunished, but I didn’t want to test if that privilege vanished the moment you had horns, appointed representative in this case or not. Even if it just resulted in a wound I’d spent a lot of my healing supplies on surviving last night.

“Still getting in trouble Malvia?” Tagashin called up from on top of the carriage, but there was an edge to her voice.

“Trouble?” I replied pleasantly. “Please Barnes, these honorable watchwomen and men are simply volunteering to guard us from the foul infernal magic inside the shop.”

Lo and behold, not even a butt of a rifle rammed between my shoulders over that remark. Perhaps the Watch had changed. Or at least weren’t willing to do it in public. Walston had insinuated as much if any of us tried to escape.

I should have expected that being the official Thieves’ Guild representative for this wouldn’t stop Walston from clapping me in irons. At least I wasn’t the only person being given this treatment.

Next to me, Harper Metrill’s eyes cracked open as the door opened.

“And so our heroic detective enters, and me not properly dressed,” Metrill said, tone light but with just a taste of bitterness. “Do you think if I protested to our captors, they’d let me change?”

From the looks on their faces, definitely not.

Dr. Dawes was out first, frowning as he spotted me with guns pointed at my face. I gave him a wink, and whatever had been building in his throat disappeared as he went to the side.

Voltar stepped out, looking as alert as ever. If anyone got less sleep than me, it was him. Drugs, it had to be. Or at least that was my current theory on how he managed to stay standing, let alone attentive.

If he was shocked to see any of us here, it didn’t show on his face.

“Mr. Metrill,” Voltar said. “I see the law once again has you in its chains.”

Metrill cocked his head to the side. “One of these days, I’ll figure out how you do that. And this won’t last long.”

The got a resigned look from several Watch Officers.

“Broken out of the Coffin pretty often?” I asked him in a faux-whisper.

“Malvia, no one breaks out of the Coffin these days unless they have to,” he replied in just as loud a murmur. “The Thieves’ Guild has plenty of good lawyers to show the Watch the truth that we are perfectly innocent of whatever criminal accusations they harass us with.”

Right. I was sure they never had to break any members out.

“So,” Voltar said, looking at me now. “Lareran instead of Tarver? Dawes, I believe I win our bet regarding that.”

“I’m a terrible musician,” I said apologetically as the doctor looked in exasperation at Voltar while fishing a few coins out of his pouch. “Seemed a better fit to go with Lareran. Wouldn’t let me swear a blood oath to serve though, apparently I’m an associate.”

“We don’t do blood,” Metrill said. “Too messy. You had to get blood out of a carpet before, Malvia?”

“Not particularly,” I mused. “Usually in the Quarter it was wood, stone, or dirt. Still, there’s some alchemicals I’m confident would do the trick.”

That got a couple of chuckles. It was amazing how much discussion of one’s bloody past you could get away with if you injected some levity. Although the muzzles of the Watch’s guns did not stray from my head.

Perhaps there was more of a reason for that than I initially thought.

“I think we will soon hear about you being in these restraints,” Voltar observed in a casual tone, gaze turning to the shop.

Walston stomped over from the entrance to the shop, leaving a nervous looking Tildaen priestess behind. The captain spared a glare for me as she got closer, one just as filled with dislike as when she’d entered the scene.

Why I could remember our conversation like it was only fifteen minutes ago. She’d strode up with her patrol, poor Hamil already chained, looked at the lot of us with a great deal of satisfaction and informed me I was toast. I then informed that in fact I was told I was a fish these days, but I personally picked a shark.

The conversation had swiftly devolved from there. She’d been rather put out when Metrill informed her that attacks or arrests on me would be considered offenses against the Thieves Guild.

That had probably tipped the scales to her simply arresting all of us.

“Mr. Voltar,” she said. “Don’t mind this, just some trash we’ll be have taken to the Coffin as soon as I can arrange it.”

As soon as she could think of something to charge us with. From my experience, generally existing in an area could be easily turned into malingering or disturbing the peace. Although for this, I expected Walston could probably weave some suspicion about us killing Matilda Rose.

The utter impossibility of that wouldn’t matter too much. At least not to keeping us in the Coffin for a few weeks, which might be all Walston wanted. I’d feel guilty about dragging the Thieves Guild members into this, but from the barbs Walston and Metrill had traded, they had their own long running grudge.

“Undoubtedly,” Voltar said. “Unfortunately, I may have to ask to borrow one of them, since I guess they were the first ones on the scene?”

“Metrill and Harrow were first on the scene,” Walston said reluctantly. “And made a mess of it.”

“We take no responsibility for methods used to defend ourselves from infernally corrupted furniture, corpses, or other things tainted by the hells,” Metrill replied. “Also, the Tildaens would have been needed to purify it anyway.”

Probably true, given the sheer amount of diabolism that had been concentrated in that fishing supply shop. By the time Voltar had gotten here, without our intervention or the Tildaens? Things would probably have already left the shop and looked to spread. It would have taken them time to start drawing diabolism from the hells on their own, and most wouldn’t have the minds yet to do anything besides randomly attack others.

“Well, we would appreciate one you along to tell us how things were before diabolism tipped your hand,” Voltar said. “Miss Harrow?”

“I’d be happy too, if Mr. Metrill doesn’t mind,” I said, not willing to start moving with so many guns pointed my direction.

Me and the Watch had been getting along so well, it was so sad. Well, me and one Watch Officer. On occasion. Because he valued professionalism. Although I’d given him an extra reason weighing against that. A brilliant decision, letting Malstein know I’d been the one who killed his partner and made a bloodthirsty devil out of his corpse.

After I’d sawed the Watch Officer’s limbs off as well. Truly one of my most genius moments in persuading people.

“Malvia is the Thieves Guild representative in this matter,” Harper said. “She should be the one to go in. Although if you need anyone else to go with you, perhaps you could see about having the rest of us help you as well?”

The guns had been lowered, with a reluctant hand gesture from Walston and I hurried to my hooves.

I kept to the side, trying to be unobtrusive as possible now that I was in the clear. Thank the hells I could flatten my fins, it made me a little less likely to grab someone’s eyes. As my long silver and black hair blew in the breeze.

I really needed to work on better ways to hide that while sneaking now.

“Unfortunately, Mr. Metrill, I think we’ll only need one,” Voltar replied. “I’m certain you can figure out a way free of your current predicament.”

“You ass,” Metrill said cheerily, seemingly not bothered by that, nor by Walston’s looming presence nearby. “Sore loser, some might say.”

“That would imply I’ve actually lost in any of our encounters so far, Mr. Metrill,” Voltar replied. “Miss Harrow? Where did you start?”

“Front door,” I said, already headed that way. “We didn’t know the Priestkiller had been here yet. No signs of corruption on the outside of the building. Considering the sheer density of it on the inside? Other diabolists were involved with a ritual to keep the corruption on the inside of the building.”

“That would be your former mentor Golvar’s little faction, wouldn’t it?” Voltar observed.

I didn’t bother asking how he knew. The wheelchair track? Fishing? Who knew.

“Likely yes,” I agreed. “Although I don’t think it’s a separate faction. Golvar despises the Hells. And he’s loyal to Versalicci. Unless things have changed significantly since I faked my death.”

“It’s a possibility we can’t discount,” Dr. Dawes pointed out. “Your brother’s behavior doesn’t make sense if he was part of the conspiracy.”

True. Very true. Versalicci was playing some separate game, to be helping them, and also to tell me about the disappearances in Holmsteaders territory. Then dispatching his two pet possessed psychopaths to kill some of his own people involved in the scheme.

“So many years,” I muttered. “I still know so little of who he really is.”

We were at the doorway now, and I pulled it open. The inside of the shop was still a mess, but of a different kind. The wriggling, growing, shrieking corruption had vanished

Some of the ceiling had collapsed further in, spilling roofing tiles all over the floor. It must have only been held up by something growing into the damage. Furniture was burnt, but no smell of smoke in the air, merely a pleasant, minty scent that made my nostrils burn.

Joy, ruined evidence and this entire place was going to leave my nose plugged if I stayed in here too long. Most would consider that a fair price to not have the entire room growing into diabolic creatures out to kill you.

Most.

“It’s very different from when we came in,” I said, passing by the stain right in the front entrance. “Although it was Metrill who melted the anchor. It would have been difficult to get past.”

“A pity we were last on the scene,” Voltar muttered, looking at the partially collapsed roof. “This must be very different from when the Priestkiller was done.”

“Far from last,” I commented.

No one else from Intelligence had shown up, and neither had Derrick or Gallaspie.

Dr. Dawes grimaced. “The others will be awhile. They are dealing with the aftermath of the other murder.”

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I nodded briefly, thinking. So, another one taken off the list. That would make eight so far, nine if you counted the faked death of Mourner Kelson. It only made sense, if the Hellgate ritual was the goal. They had more bullets in their revolver than the Priestkiller.

“A priestess of Tildae was found dead,” Voltar said quietly. “Along with the entire class of acolytes she was teaching. Likely Black Flame or mercenaries. Besides the ritual at the end to consign her soul to the hells, all the violence was done with blade. The bodies were left in a place for the public to find.”

“Three left,” I said quietly.

Really four, but I wasn’t going to give even the slightest of hints to Mourner Kelson’s survival. Ixillae, Semiv, and Daltaren. Two of them had clerics who’d been working with the conspiracy, in the case of Daltaren, multiple ones.

“Please tell me everyone on the list of names Metrill provided us have been taken into protective custody?”

“Upon a meeting with certain people, Imperial Intelligence has decided to re-evaluate its priorities,” Dr. Dawes said.

Meaning someone with more authority than whoever commanded Imperial Intelligence had noticed they were playing with a fire that could consume the entire city. Probably when they saw the ritual was over halfway complete.

“So?” I asked.

“Several names are missing,” Voltar said. “One for each deity, although we did find Elizabeth Millitent. Tagashin is with her and her children, trying to fix that mess. Unfortunately, she’s not the only Priest of Daltaren who was on there. So one could say the increased pressure has led to changes.”

“Does that extend to me knowing more about what is going on?” I asked the both of them.

The silence was answer enough.

“Is it Forcreek?” I asked in a frustrated tone, looking between the both of them.

Voltar and Dr. Dawes traded looks. “Perhaps,” the detective started.

I growled. “Voltar, if you are using me as some kind of provocateur bumbling into things to secure your positions, it’s not Tagashin I’ll be kicking this time.”

“Certainly not,” the detective protested hurriedly. “Perhaps a little, but only because determining hard evidence is increasingly difficult to come by.”

“Dr. Dawes, don’t get involved,” I told the doctor. “I’m not going to injure him. Much.”

“Miss Harrow!” Voltar protested while Dr. Dawes did move to get between the two of us. “I have told you about as much as I am permitted to, and a fair bit more. How highly do you think Imperial Intelligence as a whole considers you?”

“About as highly as a dog on a leash,” I replied bitterly. “So yes, I am away of how much you’re allowed to tell me.”

Voltar sighed. “It could be Forcreek. Incidental evidence points towards Forcreek. Your own suspicions point at him as well for reasons different from my own, perhaps even better. He is being watched. But even if he is the Priestkiller, he is not the one responsible, and for those-”

“Baltaren’s church, Gallaspie,” I said. “Maybe Derrick, although I don’t know her angle. Maybe Versalicci is involved, maybe he isn’t.”

“And your proof?”

“We’re running a little low on time to be worried about that,” I said.

“We’re running very low on it, which is why our superiors don’t want to accidentally pick a wrong target and end up fighting an innocent church structure while we’re trying to prevent this ritual,” Dr. Dawes said flatly. “Miss Harrow, we’ve debated the same names-but without evidence, do you think their churches will turn on them? That the queen would command them turned over and risk being wrong? And that’s assuming the churches as well are innocent. It could be more than just the one member of each, and each would be a challenge to take on directly.”

I growled. “That didn’t seem to be an issue during the Black Flame rebellion.”

“The army was here after just fighting the dwarves,” Voltar said not unkindly. “And you were Infernals, not one of the major religious institutions of the empire.”

I tried to spit out an answer, forced it down. He was right, and nothing I could say would change that. And in the end, they had probably said what I now said to their own superiors. And was getting similar responses.

“Is the Priestkiller worth a risked Hellgate?” I asked them.

“No,” Voltar said firmly. “And if that’s what they wanted? It would be easy for it to be shut down. No, they want something bigger.”

I tilted my head to the side. “A redefinition of the relationship between the churches and the state?”

That did not get an answer, which I would take as a tacit confirmation. Well. Fuck me if that was the case. It already sounded like Her Majesty enjoyed quite the one-sided relationship already, albeit my education on it all was still lacking.

I sighed, then thought on what they had first said about the murder of the Tildaen priestess.

“The bodies of the students were left on display?” I asked. “And you’re certain it was the Flame?”

Dr. Dawes cleared his throat. “The blows with the knives were delivered at a height indicating between five and six feet of height to the throat. It would be quite obvious if their attack was taller. Many of them were…very young.”

Ah. I nodded respectfully, although truth be told, the Quarter consumed people of all ages. Young died fast. Young people died faster when out on their lonesome and without older people to help them, many times. When the weather had grown cold and the food thin, fewer mouths meant less to fight over. Fewer worries about the one you’d evicted coming back for revenge while you slept.

I counted myself lucky for having my mother’s protection, or Varrow’s gang as thin as those ties were. And didn’t pry into the pasts of anyone I knew in the Quarter.

“Also, more than one person would have needed to be involved to keep them all corralled,” Dr. Dawes continued. “Unless diabolism was used, but there were no signs of it. Except on the priestess.”

I drummed my fingers. Not the Queen of Masks, which meant they were relying more on Golvar’s people. Rushed? That and perhaps I’d injured the Queen more than I’d initially thought. But more importantly.

“On display, you said?” I asked.

“Left near a very busy street,” Voltar said. “They made sure no one saw them, of course, three more were found in that alley with slit throats. But far enough away they didn’t need to cut too many, and close enough they were sure to be found soon after.”

“They want chaos,” I muttered. “Panic on the streets. I’m guessing the weather being controlled for this constant on and off snow is to try and force things to cool down. Forestall any riot as well as keep travel in and out of the city to a minimum. Why do they want it though? Keeping the Watch busy? They haven’t even had it spark as a distraction yet, and so the Watch keeps searching for ritual circles unimpeded. But tension keeps mounting. They want this city on a hair-trigger.”

Dr. Dawes coughed. “Death? Perhaps that is some part of the ritual? Cause a riot and have it cause enough death to fill some requirement of the ritual?”

“Perhaps?” I ventured. “I imagine if it mattered that much, Alberta Vesper would have brought up the possibility. And they did plenty of killing for those ritual circles. There’s…symbolic weight in what they’ve gathered. Enemies of the Hell’s dabbling in their magic, their churches profaned, their souls and bodies transformed into that of devils, twelve ritual circles to match filled with souls. Souls is what matters to the Hells, not death. Death is just the cause of getting souls. It’s the symbology that matters, the betrayal among the servants of the pantheon that has sealed the devils in the Hells.”

Not entirely, but far more than had ever been in the past. The deaths had to mean something to matter, and just slaughter wouldn’t.

“Turning against the churches,” I muttered. “That might be the trick. Build all this anger, reveal the victims were practicing diabolism-hells, lie about it to cast several of the churches entirely corrupted, they just need enough of it to be confirmed true. Symbolically, the people turn on the very thing keeping the devils from entering the world. Maybe.”

“It seems a stretch,” Voltar said.

“It is a stretch,” I admitted. “They haven’t exactly been hiding what they’ve been doing, to build tension, but…they’d have to ensure all twelve if it was to contribute. And even then, it wouldn’t be against the Church of Halspus. The deity that maintains that barrier the most. Do you see something I don’t?”

Silence stretched, Dr. Dawes’ eyes flicking to the door as if anticipating someone bursting in on us.

“Not at this time. Doctor?”

“Afraid not,” Dr. Dawes replied. “The only thing that came to mind would be that general instability would make it harder to respond to a Hellgate opening, but well, we have very little idea of how large the Hellgate may end up. “

“So, no firm answers,” I said.

“We did track down the maker of the Priestkiller’s shield,” Voltar told me. “You were right. It required a very powerful craftsmage.”

I paused, then nodded slightly. We’d discussed the possibility when looking over the crime scene at the Gardens where Rebecca Chalmers died.

“Don’t suppose you got lucky with who ordered or collected it?” I asked. “Somebody on the list, perhaps?”

He nodded, although it was with a solemn frown.

“Matilda Rosa,” Voltar told me, and I shook my head slightly, tired and annoyed at a new dead end. “It’s how they had so quickly identified who had ordered it. They made a note when a Thieves Guild member of all people commissioned it.”

“So that’s why she needed to die next,” I said. “I thought I might have spooked them by stealing Holmsteader’s ledgers, but no, that timeline makes more sense. They were already cleaning up loose ends, she’d be the next on the list and a death they needed for their ritual, anyway.”

She would have expected it. There’s no way she couldn’t have. The fact that one of the Diabolists among Lararen’s clerics had to die, and she’d been trusted with critical tasks? Ones that could lead investigators to her?

It was a setup to becoming a patsy or a sacrifice. She’d have set up some kind of insurance. Hopefully, something useful to us.

Hopefully not here, as between the infernal corruption and the purifying efforts of Tildae, there wasn’t much left. Small hope the hellfire hadn’t consumed it. Then again, it didn’t consume the crossbow bolt.

To my mild infuriation, Voltar picked up on that possibility well before I had when first looking this room over. Even worse, it was even harder to spot where the holy water had fallen, since everything had been purified, but he spotted it immediately. The lack of any evidence of corruption before being purified.

“Where is the crossbow bolt?” Voltar asked, looking at the body.

Good. It would have been too obvious if I had brought it up.

“I noticed he fired it too,” I said. “As for where the bolt is? I looked. Likely, it got burned up by the Priestkiller when he started using hellfire all around. Wooden shaft, probably burnt. Tip perhaps liquified? Or if I missed it, corrupted then destroyed when the Tildaens purified it.”

“Perhaps,” Voltar said, and I couldn’t tell if he’d bought what I said or not. “Based on the angle…and accounting for possible going off target from hitting our priest-killing friend..there.”

He was looking directly as the cabinet I’d fished the bolt from behind.

“Help me move this cabinet?” Voltar asked, and I quickly moved to the other side.

We moved it away from the wall, revealing a rotten mess of wood and burnt corruption.

“Annoying,” Voltar muttered.

I kept my mouth shut. If they would not tell me everything, I would not tell them everything in return. After all, if they didn’t know, they didn’t have to report.

Or I was just being petty.

“The cabinet was moved a little further ahead on one side,” Voltar noted. “Almost as if nudged by something large moving behind it.”

“Probably nudged when the fighting happened,” I said in response, and moved the bulk of my tail behind my body.

Ridiculous that he had spotted it, it had only shifted at most a fraction of an inch, I was sure. My tail was not that big.

The rest of the search didn’t turn up anything I had not noticed when I’d gone over it earlier with Metrill. The purification of this place had taken care of any other hints he might have spotted, which he complained about repeatedly, bemoaning what the Watch had done.

“Dr. Dawes,” I said after one particularly loud pronouncement of Voltar’s annoyance. “About how safe do you think an extended stay in a place like this would have been on someone not an Infernal nor capable of channeling a Priest’s light?”

That got the detective to be quiet, and soon we found ourselves in the middle of the room, Voltar considering the corpse once again.

“Three left,” I repeated, considering the dead Lareran priestess. “And not everyone accounted for even off the list. There’s a good chance there are more names that source wasn’t aware of.”

“Do you wish to go outside and ask him?” Voltar said, arching an eyebrow.

“Do you wish to stop trying to get the identity out of me with obvious ploys?” I replied. “Three left. Not everyone accounted for. I certainly hope there’s something more firm in place to stop this than what I’ve been allowed glimpses of, otherwise gentlemen, I might be considering a swift exit from this country once utter hell is unleashed on it.”

“Things are being done,” Voltar said, walking over to the body, kneeling down gently. “Some of them, I am sure, even I cannot see. Or at least, I am not supposed to see them.”

Well, knowing the great detective was supposed to be in the dark actually lifted my spirits a little. At least I wasn’t the only one it was happening to. Even if it probably was happening less with him than it was for me.

“Well,” I started. “I suppose that’s all-”

“You did what?” A familiar voice roared from upstairs. “Those vermin were already low, but I did not think that low!”

“It sounds like Bishop Gallaspie is upstairs,” I noted. “And has just been informed about me being back on this case. Such ungentlemanly behavior to have about an ally and colleague, don’t you agree?”

Dr. Dawes frowned, discomfort on his face as Bishop Gallaspie launched into a shouted set of observations on exactly how even Lareran’s followers should be above allying with the likes of me.

“Truth be told, he did seem satisfied when Samuel explained you’d been removed from the case,” Voltar said casually.

“How rude of him,” I said drily.

“Probably not how he sees it,” Doctor Dawes said. “There were several remarks on your character.”

“-AND FURTHERMORE, SHE HAS TAKEN ON TRAITS OF THE NOVER, A FURTHER SIGN OF MALIGN INFLUENCE MAKING ITSELF KNOWN!”

“I hope the bishop employs a good doctor,” I noted. “I’d hate for all this yelling to cause too much stress to the good Bishop and overstrain his heart. Divine healing can only do so much.”

“Indeed it has its limitations,” Voltar said.

“I think I’ll leave,” I said, moving towards the stairs, safe to go up now that they’d been cleared of corruption. “I’d hate for more of your crime scene to get destroyed if I said.”

“Miss Harrow,” Voltar called out before I had made it a single step, hurrying after me, something bundled in cloth in his hand. “Samples from the body. You nearly forgot them.”

I had not, actually, but I didn’t so much as twitch as I took them. “Thank you, Mr. Voltar. Results will be..hopefully tomorrow, assuming nothing else happens. Perhaps Dr. Dawes can come over to go over my results with me?”

“Perhaps,” Voltar said, pressing whatever he was trying to give me into my hands, then backed off. “We, as always, remain quite faithful in your prompt and accurate results, Miss Harrow.”

That makes one of us. I wished I could understand his sudden confidence in me.

I nodded once, then hurried upstairs.

Along the way, I passed by a scowling Bishop Gallaspie whose cheeks were so red one might mistake him for an Infernal. That thought I kept tucked away, lest I actually did cause the Bishop to suffer a heart attack. Or more likely, attack me.

When I made it all the way out, Metrill and the other Thieves’ Guild members had vanished. Either taken to the Coffin, or had somehow finagled their release from Watch custody.

Captain Walston was an easy enough obstacle to get around. Some barbs traded, some innocence feigned, a general understanding that if she ever got the chance, it would be worse than the Coffin I went to. They attempted a cursory patdown that failed to find the pocket I’d made in my skin, simply a remark on my weight I let go. For now.

One of those little quirks of biosculpting. People who had been trained to find even the most subtle of hidden pockets in clothing never checked flesh. And thankfully the talent was rare enough that even the Specialists on the streets would never be taught too.

Two blocks down, people were tailing me, but no more than usual. Either Voltar’s superiors had bought his hurried excuse, or they didn’t care.

Well. Time to hurry home and see what the detective had gvien me.

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