Infernal Investigations

It was snowing again.

That meant misery, as I pushed forward through the currently knee-high, swiftly approaching higher, snowdrifts as I struggled through. Slower than I wanted, having to get my feet above that rising blanket of white each time I took a step.

It was either that or just give up and find somewhere to sleep overnight. Given I was outside the Quarter and Voltar’s home was even further along? I had to bet on either reaching my home or that my newfound tolerance for the cold was enough when I inevitably collapsed on the street.

It would be idiotic to have lived through all I had and then get dragged out tomorrow morning with everyone else who had frozen overnight. A reminder there. No matter how high you got some things would never change. Even people who would be charitable to the freezing would refuse an Infernal.

The damned stuff was continuing to fall as well, drifting down. I’d bought a ragged hat from a shop before it closed, at a price probably three times what it had been worth new, and done my best to cut out holes for my horns. I wasn’t testing my new tolerance of the cold against the fresh snowfall.

Someone really wanted the city blanketed in snow. My theory about keeping tempers from flaring out of control once the truth was out looked likely.

It was entirely possible some member of the royal family on an ego trip wanted to make everyone’s live miserable. I just doubted it would have been allowed to continue this long without a point. The city was not taking the weather well, and winter was a ways off. Things grinding down before then would lead to complaints, but also the lack of economic activity wouldn’t bode well for when people ran out of firewood for winter long since burnt dealing with this.

Everyone had learned the hard way the pains of trying to permanently alter weather patterns with magic before I was born. No one would repeat that mistake on a whim.

I sighed, forcing my mind off that track of thought. I did need to pay at least a little bit of attention as I trudged from one lamp-post to another, using their light to guide me along the streets.

Nightlife had taken one look at the fresh snowfall, and those that could afford it decided not to suffer the chill sting of the weather. Which meant those out would be the most desperate. Having horns outside the Quarter meant no one propositioned me or tried to offer me any wares. The saber at my belt meant no one tried to mug me. Even the desperate and the hateful usually had enough common sense to not take the risk.

Usually, so I had to stay on my guard, but for right now the cobbled streets were the safest I was going to be heading home. The occasional figure in the falling snow was much less of a threat than what might be awaiting me in the Quarter.

The Black Flame always existed as a threat. Whatever uneasy truce I’d had with Versalicci must be straining. I hadn’t retrieved Melissa like he’d asked. I’d embarrassed him in front of his people twice. That along would be enough reason to have me followed and wonder if he could get away with a quick slitting of my throat and hope no one ever figured out it was him.

If he figured out I’d set Holmsteader’s gang up to attack him, he’d do it immediately. I still hadn’t found out how much he’d suffered from that trick of mine.

Oh, and he probably was trying to open up a Hellgate in the middle of the city.

I sighed, leaning against the lamppost I’d just reached, flakes of snow swirling around me. My tail idly brushed them off my coat, fins gliding across its surface.

I had no fondness for my half-brother. Some smidges of respect for his competency and abilities, even if I had none for his integrity. Still, him being involved. The pieces got caught well before they fit into place. If he was involved, why give me the hint that led me to Donald Tyler?

Deniability so we wouldn’t suspect him of being involved once his diabolists started to help kill people was one thing. Killing Tyler had led to a circle being recovered. They might have a replacement, but given the number of souls in the damn thing, I wasn’t so sure. We’d taken two out of circulation, actually, but leading me to Tyler would assure at least one would need to be sacrificed.

That was another question in itself. Vesper had said they didn’t need too many raw souls for the ritual. The priests turned to Diabolism, their souls were critical. Were the additional souls insurance? Making the gate larger perhaps?

It was a big risk of discovery with each additional death.

The fact it hadn’t been discovered yet was an indictment of the Watch as much as this entire mess was an indictment of the churches involved.

I stifled a yawn, stopped trudging forward for just a second even if I didn’t stop moving. The cold hadn’t found purchase in me yet. I wasn’t going to give an opportunity too.

I was not really living up to my promise about getting sufficient sleep. I should have headed here right after leaving Alice and Gregory, not spent the time running around tailing Slayer Derrick. Without Gregory along and no sufficient coin to make up for his absence, the chance of getting a carriage outside the quarter had been slim even before the fresh falling of snow.

I desperately wished I could, as my hoof nearly slipped on some ice under the snow, my tail latching on an old hitching post to keep me upright.

Hoofing it after the bishop across the city had been tiring. I’d gotten lucky in that she’d kept most of her travels within a relatively small part of the city. I assumed she’d visited across it the entire city today or over the last several days. What it did mean is I felt tired to the bones, and even crossing a relatively small portion of Avernon was a multi-hour affair even without the snow. I expected it to at least be midnight before I reached the Quarter, let alone home.

Case in point, a nearby clock tower started chiming, each bell strike being followed by some arcane spell saying a letter of the noble who’d sponsored it. I was still near Cassian Hills, damnation. And then the bell finished striking eleven times, and I slumped.

One in the morning. At the earliest. Damnable weather. Damnable coachmen. Although even they were likely in bed, whatever ones served the night not subjecting their horses or enchantments to this cold.

I sighed. Well. Time to keep moving

***

By the time I reached the Quarter, twelve had chimed a long time ago. At least our clock didn’t spell out the patron’s name, it just occasionally shrieked about the unholy nature of those it had been forced to be built next to.

Someone was irritated about the decree of clocks.

Snow drifted down again, but it was lighter. Whoever had ordered it didn’t want to bury the entire city. If only so the Imperial Regiments could leave their barracks if needed. The bite of the cold didn’t really travel through my new skin, but the extra layers of snow to force my way through added to the exhaustion creeping across my body.

The layers of snow did mean not having to risk the dirt of the Quarter having turned to mud. Although it would be frozen solid for a while yet. If the sun came out and melted the snow, then I’d be dealing with mud.

Assuming it came out. It had to. That or I was seeing if I could use my now useless shelved to make a sled.

I was near my street. It was quiet. Not that the Quarter would be much more active than the rest of the city in this snow, but there was usually the sound of something going on. Even if it was just the criminals outside the quarter seeing if there was any illicit business to be done with the corpse butcher, the forger, or the poison-maker.

Her and I had a feud over her remaining steadfastly convinced I was going to steal her business. No, I’d much rather save my poisons for personal use.

Even with the snow, that wouldn’t stop the underworld from operating, so I slowed my step. Black Flame? Holmsteader’s people? Some other group hoping me being tired would bring me into an ambush?

I was saved from that both by the snow ceasing and the idiots outside my door having lit enough lanterns to illuminate every inch of my shop’s exterior. A carriage sat outside my door, multiple non-Infernals gathered around it, all of them either right next to or staring right at my shop.

I recognized the symbol on the carriage door, and the question of the quiet on my street was immediately answered by it. Halspus. And who was that on my doorstep but the man I wanted to meet?

Tomorrow, not tonight. The soft sigh I let out reverberated in my bones. Damnations, I was not going to be out of bed until noon at this rate.

Muttering in irritation, I reached inside my coat, pulled out a small packet and poured the contents in my mouth.

Seconds later my awareness sharpened and I felt energy fill my limbs again. I was going to pay for that later. Another hour of waking energy would be met by two more asleep, and waking would feel like someone had filled my limbs with lead.

I couldn’t help the fact that my bad habits were being encouraged by this entire damn city though.

With fresh eyes, I looked over the lot around my door and the carriage. Gallaspie himself was at my door, looking rather unhappy that I wasn’t home. A male acolyte, half-orc for certain, was leaned against the wall nearby, rubbing his hands together. Two more at the carriage, red-haired woman and man who looked as Keltish as Gallaspie, probably siblings, both also not moving around as much.

The old man might just be too stubborn, but none of these three had suffered real cold before if they thought staying mostly still in the cold a good idea.

None of them had reacted to me rounding the corner of the street. Their night vision must not be any better than my own. That or they were very good at hiding it. Either way, I took the time to check the alley running behind my house.

Two more down there, having brought a lantern and waiting by my back door. Dwarven woman, another human man, both of them shivering. All of them focused on my shop and not at all what was around them.

Definitely no experience fighting, or at least preparing an ambush. Or even avoiding an ambush. A Black Flame crew could come in here and slit everyone but the Bishop’s throat without risking death.

Should I try sneaking inside my house through the underground, slip under my covers, and pretend I wasn’t home? Or even just try to find a place to wait out whatever this was. Unlike outside the quarter, there were abandoned buildings aplenty to hole up in.

An attempt to kill me, part of me insisted. Gallaspie and his compatriots noticing how close to the truth I was getting. Deciding to end the threat I presented here and now. Stopping and thinking on it though, while caution was needed, it couldn’t be that. Not this obviously. Not when it was far more people than me nearing the answers of him being involved. Killing me would do nothing but bring suspicion, especially when it was not subtle at all who was here.

Of course, he could just kill everyone on the street. I paused, considering that. No. He was getting up there in years, he only had some others with him even if they were all clerics.

Given the stakes involved, there would be suspicion and he couldn’t kill everyone who might have spotted the carriage. Even without the stakes, the Watch probably wouldn’t ignore a massacre of that size in the Quarter.

There would be some kind of official complaint over killing perfectly good Infernals who could have done a tour in the army instead to make up for their inherent diabolic nature.

My paranoia assuaged by Her Majesty’s war mongering ways, I approached my shop.

Besides, the acolytes were not here to fight. Or if they were, their master had misjudged them, given one of the Keltish acolytes had just nodded off.

“Bishop Gallaspie!” I called out, raising an arm and tail in greeting, the latter extending my fins as far as they could. The cold air did feel nice of them. “What a pleasant surprise! What are you going at store this time of night?”

Immediately everyone there sprang to attention, the light of the lanterns being joined by the Light of Halspus, which did not feel comfortable on my skin. The one nodding off jolted awake, fell with a shriek into the snow. Bishop Gallaspie was the only one not to summon the divine light, although his hand dropped to the pommel of his blade.

The two acolytes around back hurried to the front, their own hands glowing with the divine light. I stopped twenty feet away, keeping a cautious distance from them all, my hands and tail far away from my coat.

They looked young. They looked inexperienced. I was not going to take a divine lance of light through the eye because someone was twitchy.

“Foulhorn,” the Bishop said, glaring at me like a rat that had dared take a swim in his brandy. “I have been waiting half an hour for you. Muriel, get out of the snow.”

The Keltish acolyte emerged blazing with divine light which luckily dimmed enough I could actually approach my house.

“She really does look like a fish,” I heard one of them whisper to another. For hells’ sake!

“My most sincere apologies Bishop,” I replied. “Unfortunately if you sent notice ahead of your arrival, I did not receive it.”

Even with me having been gone for large chunks of the day, I was quite certain he had it. Amusing as it might to see him visibly struggle between the reality he had not and the need to hold me personally responsible for any suffering he’d had.

“Well, let’s you all get you in from the cold,” I told them, moving past them then up the steps to my door, ignoring all the ready to fire magic surely aimed at my back. “I don’t have anything I could easily prepare to eat that would be warm, but I can brew us some tea. And I might have some biscuits, although I can’t promise they will taste good. I haven’t been able to get food for a while. I don’t suppose anyone is a fan of raw pork?”

No smiles at all, just quizzical, suspicious looks. I did have to find something to do with that hog. Varrow was bringing food for it, in return for a portion of the bacon and ham once I found someone willing to butcher it.

Everyone filed into my shop, a few of the acolytes at the back whispering prayers of forgiveness to Halspus for seeking refuge from the cold inside a Foulhorn’s shop. Surely Halspus must prefer freezing to death in the cold over that.

They filtered among my empty shelves as I clopped around my countertop, putting on a winning smile.

“I’d offer to have you browse at your leisure, but we are currently in the middle of restocking,” I told them all as I opened the door to the stairs. “I just need to go upstairs for some tea leaves, then I’ll be right back down.”

I was doing my best to ignore the fact that most of my alchemicals had been destroyed thanks to that Devil of Sloth attacking my home. My tenuous relation with Imperial Intelligence also meant I was unlikely to see the money to see them replaced. That was for future Malvia to worry if Avernon didn’t turn into a devil-filled hellscape.

It was also future Malvia’s responsibility to ignore the urge to bite into Samuel Voltar like the Imp often asked for having me store the damn circles in my basement.

“Not so fast, Foulhorn,” one of the acolytes sneered. “You are a fool if you think we will let you out of our sight.”

“I don’t see why I would run,” I replied. “I already came here. I could hardly miss your carriage in front of my shop. Bishop?”

Gallaspie considered me for a moment. “Gavon. Make sure she doesn’t lay her hands on anything but tea?”

“Ah, but bishop, what about my tail?” I said teasingly as the half-orc from before approached.

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One of the more genteel half-orcs which was becoming the vogue thanks to some rather saucy romance novels. I’d never read them of course. Definitely not after book five had taken a dramatic downturn in quality. He was a fitting match, minus the Halpsuian symbols he’d carved into his tusks that hurt to look at.

“Thank you for escorting me, good sir,” I said, curtsying slightly.

Not a reaction out of him, but the look from the female Keltish acolyte, Muriel? Would have melted me if it had been charged with the Light.

“Move,” Gavon rumbled, and I shrugged then headed up the stairs while Muriel seethed.

Not a reaction out of the half-orc at a couple more teases. None of them meant seriously. I did not need to mess up my own life in regards to romance further than I already had. Not a reaction at all to anything in my room, barely anything at the small arsenal in one of my closets. I should have brought some torture implements up there, surely that would cause something.

The acolyte finally reacted to something when I opened up the cupboard.

“Is that entire thing nothing but tea leaves?” he asked incredulously.

I frowned. First Alice, now him.

“Not the entire thing,” I muttered. “I have the kettle and some sugar cubes on the bottom shelf.”

My tail was already fishing the former out, while the latter I was tempted by but would leave for now. Save it for better times, not to try and get some more relief over this headache of a conversation.

The acolyte shook his head, muttering about the insanity of the devil-touched. “Be quick.”

I gave him a scandalized look I was only half faking. Rush? Tea selection?

And they considered themselves more civilized.

I hummed as I considered various tins I’d collected over the years, meanwhile I gave a more serious thought to why in the hells Bishop Gallaspie had come here.

Why was he here? To kill me I’d already dismissed, but if not that?

Fishing, probably, I thought as I moved to another shelf, the acolyte swearing behind me as I moved tins out of the way. Things were getting more tense. Whatever the endgame was, whether people involved wanted to actually trigger the ritual or not, it was getting close.

I couldn’t imagine Gallaspie wanted the damn thing to actually open a Hellgate. But not everyone involved might share that opinion. So they were nearing his planned endgame. And people were purging elements of the conspiracy. Who trusted who? And here came everyone else around the margins trying to stop it and unmask the people behind it.

I was probably the weakest link to pick on among the Intelligence investigators. Gregory had the protection of the church of Tarver. He couldn’t intimidate Voltar or Dawes. If he looked into Barnes he’d quickly find her more than he could chew on. He probably wasn’t aware of Vesper, or Hawkins, or that time mage Army Major. The Watch would protect its own.

That left me as the easiest one to try and force answers out via intimidation. Or worse. And the one he was likeliest to get away with handling if he revealed too much in the process.

Fishing. I’d need to pretend I’d gotten hooked. Or at least that I wasn’t worth hooking.

Downstairs, Gallaspie was remaining quiet. The acolytes he has dragged with him were not.

“People actually pay this creature for alchemicals?” One of the men said, the same that had immediately lit up with light when I’d approached. “Do they not fear that in its evil, it has corrupted them to some foul scheme in the future?”

“Most of its clientele are others of its kind,” one of the women said. “Hallot, they do not need to worry for taint, as they already swim in it by existing.”

“There is no way she is licensed for this,” one of the other said. “They don’t let Foulhorns have licenses for this.”

“She must have seduced a licensor at an alchemy guild,” Hallot said. “Like she did that fool priest of Tarver’s with her diabolic-”

You know, I thought idly as I selected a tin of tea leaves and did my best to ignore the rest of what was being debated below. Could I get away with slitting this one’s throat, setting the building on fire, then locking them inside?

“You don’t think its tempting Gavon right now, do you? I’ll-”

“Muriel, you worry too much. First, you need to ask him out. Secondly, he’s not going to fall for it. But if you want it to pay for the temerity of even suggesting it, come here.”

No. Wait. The windows, even boarded up, would be easy to break through. Drat.

“Special occasion, so I think the Graywood should do,” I told the acolyte who continued regarding me with a dead stare. “You disagree?”

He grunted, indicated I should go back downstairs. Definitely not a tea connoisseur.

“Down, or I give you a taste of divine light that you should have been fed at birth,” he told me, and I believed him.

Were they hear to prick me and try to throw me off-balance? No, this lot has definitely been brought for their fanaticism over loyalty. Or they were fantastic actors. But I personally favored the former. People who would be willing to help do the dirty deed without much questioning. Only if I gave him a reason, of course.

Going down, two of the acolytes were idly examining my bare shelves for some reason, and the other two were praying over my fucking countertop. Muriel seemed quite dedicated to making my counter no longer safe for Infernal contact.

“Please don’t do that,” I said idly. “Or this kettle is hitting both of you in the face. No making it so I can’t put my elbows on my countertop. Off.”

The two looked to the Bishop, who gave a reluctant nod. Muriel still glared daggers, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

She wasn’t much younger than me. Just ask him out. Or do what I did, and make out in the middle of extremely tense situations.

“So, Bishop,” I said as I started putting firewood in my stove. No one offered to help. “What brings you to my shop at this hour?”

“The investigation,” Gallaspie said flatly.

“Ah,” I said in feigned disappointment. “I thought you came just to chat. Well, how may I help you?”

“I wish to have a conversation about certain details,” Gallaspie said. “Details that you will answer me on.”

Tssk. He couldn’t even be bothered to sufficiently bait the hook, could he?

“Funnily enough I’d discussed as much with Slayer Derrick earlier,” I told him as I put the kettle on the stove with my tail, both hands supporting my chin as I contemplated his entire hand of zealots. “I asked her to arrange a meeting between all of its tomorrow to discuss it. In your office, for safety’s sake.”

Everything froze at that besides me as my tail started up the stove. All of them looked like I’d shot a pet. Or ate their pet. Or had bit into them even.

“You are either more arrogant than most of your kind are, or more insane,” Gallaspie said, voice harsh but the grip of his hand on the sword’s pommel didn’t tighten. “You mean to meet me in Halspus’ most holy of temples?”

“Yes,” I replied, while my tail made a jab at one of my windows. “For safety’s sake given how…badly it might be taken if certain information was said where people could overhear.”

Muriel laughed, loud and mocking. “There is no safety for you under Halspus’ auspice, devil-tainted one.”

“I don’t disagree,” I said. “I meant more from the people who might overhear said information.”

The jab of my tail could be taken to mean the Black Flame members likely outside my home, spying on us all. But it could also mean Imperial Intelligence, and from the look in Gallaspie’s eyes he’d picked up on that meaning.

“The host of interested parties seems to grow with each day, and I only see my little slice of it,” I continued. “Silencing charms are useful, but they can only go so far. And tracers are becoming more and more ubiquitous. I’ve had to start searching my clothes every day for them, and you can’t just pull them off, you have to cut them off. I don’t think I’ll ever get to wear an unpatched piece of clothing ever again.”

“So sad for you,” Muriel said drily.

“It is,” I said, nodding in earnest agreement. “There are few things that should be as ironclad as not messing with a lady’s drawers, yet everyone keeps on trying to force me to put holes in mine.”

That got a flush from several of them, and some reluctant nods of agreement from the women.

“Anyway, I do insist we save the majority of the business talk for after the tea is done brewing,” I told.

“It’s after midnight!” Hallot protested.

“All the more reason,” I said, deciding not to mention it was they who had picked this hour to come to my doorstep. “A little bit of energy for everyone involved. I do have something else I could offer, but I don’t think any of you would approve of it.”

“So,” Muriel said venomously. “You hide behind your employment by Her Majesty to trade in banned substances?”

So, they knew I was Imperial Intelligence? He’d trusted this lot with that?

“Not banned,” I said innocently. “Mildly restricted maybe. Just makes you sleep longer than it keeps you up, so it’s not that popular. Anyway, you can withstand some tea brewing, I imagine. Surely there’s something we can talk about while we wait for the water to heat up? Perhaps that rather fascinating sword you have, Bishop?”

The acolytes protectively moved around him, as if I was going to leap forward and snatch it from its sheath.

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, please. Yes, I am going to try and steal a sword that would probably get me struck by lightning for the audacity of it. I imagine it’s seen a lot of use?”

“On Infernals,” Muriel said.

“Yes, but my kind is pretty easy to kill,” I said. “Surely the bishop has many stories about monsters killed, especially devils?”

“Many of those,” the Bishop said. “But I do have one about nearly killing your parent.”

My tail went rigged. A giggle emerged from my throat that had all the acolytes point their hands at me. I ignored the Light burning at my flesh as I stared directly at the bishop, nothing else needing to exist at this moment.

“Which one?”

“Your father,” he said casually. “The Duke. I believe that thing that tried breaking through twenty years ago was him. It. She. Whatever it is pretending to be.”

“Oh,” I said casually, letting my teeth pull back in. “That one. I would say it was making Gio, but I’m not sure when Gio was born. Or even if it was in Anglea. A good fight?”

“I nearly killed it,” the Bishop said, meeting my gaze levelly.

“I really, really hope you left some good marks on its hide, Bishop,” I told him. “I won’t say I wished you killed it, otherwise I’d be dead, but humbling it would have been good.”

The acolytes seemed confused more than anything else as I inquired it had inflicted any lasting injury, and expressed my annoyance when he made it clear he had not.

I opened and grabbed the tea pot, putting the leaves in then poured the boiling water from the kettle in, whistling as I did so.

“This is insanity,” one of the acolytes whispered. “This must be a trick of some kind.”

“No trick,” I said, turning back around. “Just a very friendly Infernal wanting to have some tea before doing business you all insist on having with me just past midnight. Clearly a trap of some kind. The smart move would be to start blasting me with your magic right now, and leave explaining the charred corpse to your superior when mine start asking where I’ve gone. That’s the entire benefit of having superiors.”

Gallaspie growled. “Foulhorn.”

“Fine, don’t get your superior in trouble,” I said, settling back down on the countertop. “Come on, where are you from, where were you born, what are you doing with the Bishop here, at the dead of night, bothering my poor beleaguered self?”

They all eyed me suspiciously.

“I’m not going to eat your souls,” I told them. “Even if I could, I’ve been trying to watch my weight. Too many pastries. In my defense, it is the baker’s fault for making them so temptingly delicious. That and the gluttony imp my half-brother stuck in my head.”

Light flared up as all five of them looked in panic at my forehead.

I am not to blame for the one part of self-indulgence you actually choose to feed, the Imp snapped. You had that long before I showed up, you sugar-obsessed freak!

“I’m not obsessed with sugar,” I said placidly. “Also, don’t worry about it, it can’t get out. To it’s eternal frustration.”

“Yes,” Gallaspie said. “The fact you haven’t expelled it yourself is a mark against you.”

“I think in your eyes I was born heavily covered in marks, so I think one more doesn’t add too much weight,” I said. “Besides, the previous attempt included far too much holy water, and unfortunately several of my friends have now decided for me I’m not allowed to carry several containers of it around anymore. Pity.”

“It has friends?” Muriel whispered to Hallot.

“It thinks it does.”

Oh, I had more than friends, for two of them. To my eventual doom, I was sure.

I clapped my hands together, and all of the acolytes immediately glowed with light. My face felt like it was being shredded.

“Tea's done,” I said, wide eyes watering as I pulled the kettle off the stove with my tail.

The light immediately died down as I lightly touched my right cheek with a finger. Oh, that was going to be tender for at least a day.

The acolytes were sheepish as I moved the tea kettle to the countertop, although none of them said an apology. I was decently sure any shame would be over getting made to look like fools in front of the bishop, not lightly frying my skin with their holy light.

I hummed as I poured the cups, taking time to be exact. To be infuriating. Then for good measure I started a second kettle.

I was going to need my comfort tea by the end of this.

All of the acolytes stared at the cups like I’d dared to serve them mud. Or even worse, water from the Nover.

“Please take a cup,” I said. “I’m a proper person, it’s not Hennison's. Greywood. Not the best, but I do not have the best access to finer blends.”

Bishop Gallaspie took his cup, to the mutterings of the acolytes.

“Most Holy of Bishops,” one of the unnamed women I immediately marked as a kiss-ass said worriedly. “Don’t drink from what the creature has tainted with it’s-”

Bishop Gallaspie’s index finger lit up with just a bit of Halspsus’ light, which he sent into the teacup. He swirled it around, tea mixing with holy energy of his deity, then he finally took a sip.

“You know, if it wouldn’t probably kill me to drink that and none of you would dare drink anything I brewed, I’d be intensely curious to find what the addition of holy Light does to that blend's taste,” I said. “I’d ask Gregory, but I think the deity of origin actually would matter to its effects.”

The unnamed female acolyte stared at me. “Are you trying to track how the holy nature of Halspus, He Who Brings Light and Warmth, affects tea taste?”

“Yes,” I said mildly. “Magic affects taste. It’s that simple. I’m surprised no one has researched it the same way people have theorized that you can breed certain animals for taste?”

“That is…true,” Hallot said, looking a little taken aback. “The recent developments regarding hereditary traits. The research by Drenvel. You know of it?”

Of course some of them knew what I was talking about. Halpsus was related to agriculture via his aspect as a sun god.

“Of course,” I said. “I’ve read the original paper by Drenvel. I do agree with Hamilcar about the original research by Drenvel being incomplete, she-”

“Enough stalling,” the kiss-ass snapped. “Answer the Bishop’s questions!”

“Stop getting baited by the creature, Rebecca,” Gallaspie said flatly.

I rolled my eyes. “I fail to see how me discussing the effects of magic on taste, an already established phenomena, is baiting, but fine. Back to business. We have our tea. What do you need, Bishop?”

“Your death,” one of the acolytes muttered.

“Take it up with Her Majesty’s Government," I told the acolyte while Gallaspie’s expression turned irritated. “Despite recent events, I think they still get final say on if that happens or not. Bishop, I assume you want something else besides that? If not, I’ll have to politely request you leave the store. Or we can dance, and see which of us comes ahead.”

“Pride,” Muriel said.

I flashed her a toothy grin. “Experience, acolyte. You all think because Halspus has granted you his light, you can simply gesture at me and I’ll be dead. It’s not that simple. How many of you have even killed before?”

Not a nod among them all.

“Well, it’s never clean,” I said. “It’s always messy, and the other side always gets a say in what happens. I much prefer dancing, but people are so unwilling to do that instead. Pity.”

“Reminiscing on your own kills?” One of the acolytes demanded.

“Constantly,” I replied easily. “Most of them won’t let me forget them.”

That got another round of whispering about how Zaviel’s clergy was very good about catching ghosts, they must not bother for such unholy creatures as Infernals. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Where had he picked these ones up from?

“Does everyone here know the details of what has been going on?” I asked Gallaspie. “Before we start discussing the case?”

“We all know far more than you yourself possibly could,” Hallot spat out in my direction.

Gallaspie’s eyebrows drew together and his lips pursed in irritation as I turned my attention to the acolyte.

“Really?” I said casually, tail waving back and forth idly. “That would be interesting indeed if it was the case. Would you mind expanding on-”

“Acolyte Hallot doesn’t mean that in the way you are choosing to interpret it, Foulhorn,” Bishop Gallaspie said firmly. “And you know that.”

“If you say so,” I said, sipping from my tea again. “Everyone is on the list of suspects, Bishop. Even people who we weren’t even aware of.”

Hallot turned red, and his hand glowed with light. “You dare accuse me?”

“No,” I replied, glancing at the hand with bemused amusement, then back up to the acolytes eyes. “I accuse you of not thinking before you speak. Consider how your words might come across before letting them leave your mouth. It’s a very good thing to practice.”

I was reasonably sure if I pricked too hard I could duck behind my countertop before he could hit me with some Light. After that, well I did have all kinds of things stored under it.

Gallaspie glared my way, and I winked at him. It wasn’t my fault he’d brought people so easy to bait. And, as I was sure he was realizing, easily able to be tricked into spilling some of what they heard.

“Really,” I continued. “Even if you are not in the situation of being one misspoken word away from execution like I’ve found myself, thinking things through before saying them is a good skill to practice. Eventually you just start doing it unconsciously without needing to think, and then we can get into the very specialized skill of mask-crafting.”

“Harrow,” Gallaspie said. “I did not bring these acolytes here to listen to your drivel, and you are not here to teach them.”

Well, he had used my name instead of calling me a foulhorn. From the acolytes faces, they were as shocked as I was.

“True, true,” I admitted. “I am here…why am I here? Oh yes, this is my house. I am trying to get some sleep. You all are here because?”

“They are here to assist me, and keep me protected from the dangers of this place,” Gallaspie said. “And upon consideration, that does not require being in here for this conversation.”

“Bishop,” Muriel said worriedly. “You cannot mean to be in here by yourself with this creature!”

“I’ve been around worse monsters, child,” Gallaspie said, and that last word made the acolyte recoil as if struck. “Don’t take it as an offense, Muriel. I understand what kind of monster Harrow is. She won’t attack me. You are too intelligent for that, aren’t you?”

I rolled my eyes. “Why yes Bishop, I am not going to attack a man three times my experience in fighting and a high-ranking cleric in the church of Halspus only because you’ll kill me in response, no other reason required. If you aren’t going to let exposure to foreign ideas pollute these little fishies' brains, just bring Forcreek next time. I imagine he’s doing the sane thing and is in bed by now.”

“You are hardly one to call others fish,” Hallot said.

“Shark,” I corrected automatically.

All five of the acolytes looked at me, and I flushed red.

“You do not resemble a shark at all-”

“Acolytes,” Gallaspie said firmly. “I think perhaps you should wait outside. At the coach.”

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