Infernal Investigations

“And he just left?” Gregory asked incredulously.

I shrugged, eating my breakfast off of a plate on the countertop. I’d managed to wake up at nearly nine in the morning, and with so little time and most of my ready food consumed feeding them a couple days ago, had resorted to the usual breakfast of some bread. No time to cook porridge.

“If he decided to lurk around or leave any of his acolytes, I haven’t the foggiest,” I told Gregory after finishing my second slice of bread. That would be it until this evening. “I was essentially passing out by the time Tagashin forced me to bed. And it’s not like they would have found out anything. I trust Tagashin to be competent enough not to be spotted.”

“Do you trust Tagashin to not let herself be seen on orders of her superiors?” Gregory said, leaning at me across the countertop. “They know you’re playing a game separate from them.”

“Yes,” I said, sleepily coming around the countertop. “It’s a possibility, but even if they see Tagashin? It just means they’ll take into account when I’m telling them the lie. They might be more disbelieving right from the start. They’ll still want to see just what kind of lie they want to be told.”

“And if they keep you in there and start torturing you until they get the ‘truth’ out of you,” Gregory said softly. “Malvia, you’re venturing into a place where they can-”

“I’m aware,” I said sleepily, stretching then yawning. “Trust me, I know how divine light can interact with Infernal flesh, but they can’t just keep me inside in case it is an Intelligence scheme. Kidnapping me would be an invitation for Intelligence to invade the cathedral.”

If I was doing this as a plot for Intelligence, they had to think about what me going in could mean. Provoking something that Intelligence could use as an excuse to raid the cathedral? Something they wouldn’t be able to do under any normal circumstance?

I was counting on either Forcreek or Gallaspie to have the same kind of screwy brain as me to think on that exact possibility.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Gregory asked me, frowning slightly.

I stifled a yawn. “No, but I can hardly ask for any delays when I wanted this in the first place.”

“Yes, you can,” Gregory replied firmly, helping steady me as I swayed a little bit. “He was the one who insisted on meeting you late at night, who kept you up until early in the morning. Sit and wait him sweat a little.”

I let myself stumble into him, feeling a thrill of guilty pleasure as his arms steadied my shoulders. Oh, I was just getting myself into even more trouble, wasn’t I?

I looked up at him, pretending to blink sleepily, a lazy grin coming across my face before winking. “I don’t need him to sleep. I just need him thinking the perfidious Infernal is not at her best after having her sleep interrupted.”

Gregory shook his head, smiling slightly. “I don’t believe you’re faking this. Not entirely.”

“I am tired,” I admitted. “But not cripplingly so. If all goes well, I’ll be back here and having a nap by this afternoon.”

“If all goes well,” Gregory said, grinning just a little. “You’re counting on that?”

“All will go well,” I said, frowning a little. “All we need is to have a chat, for me to spread some mild disinformation, and confirm Forcreek is the Priestkiller when we insist he be in the Bishop’s office for my ‘revelation’, and the fact it’s fake won’t matter since we have a new thread to yank on.”

“If all goes well,” he repeated, raising an eyebrow now, the scamp!

My tail lightly batted him on the head, fins tousling his hair. Oh. Damn. That actually looked better on him.

“No doubting my brilliant plan,” I told him, forcing my tone light.

“As mi’lady wishes it,” Gregory said, kissing me on the cheek.

I tensed up a little, then let that tension ease out, leaning back against him. I could live with this. Especially with Melissa out at that rented room by the cathedral. Especially as he pulled back then planted another kiss lower, then another, trailing to my neck.

“How long?” I whispered, fins brushing his cheek as he went in again. “How long do you think until that carriage-”

The knock on the door went off like black powder igniting in a gun right next to my ear. Repeated hammering that made me immediately jolt forward, tail and hands reaching for weapons.

“Easy,” Gregory said. “Just the door. You okay?”

I nodded, even though I didn’t feel fully okay. I’d gotten so lost in that moment, I hadn’t heard the footsteps up to my front door. I was…unused to not picking up on things like that. My pulse raced for more reasons than what we’d just been doing. Getting caught off-guard like that was unsettling me more than anything else in a long time.

“I’m fine,” I said quickly, then swallowed, forced myself to breathe, to calm.

“I’m fine,” I repeated more steadily, meeting his worried gaze. “It appears our ride is here.”

That or someone else. I had to force the tension out of me even harder before, trying to force that affected sleepiness back as I moved lazily to the front door. Hooves were forced to tread lightly instead of clop. Yawning as I opened, tail tousling my hair before I did so to make it look like I was only recently out of bed.

I opened the door to the wrinkled visage of Slayer Derrick and the scowl of one of her acolytes who had held me at gunpoint inside the carriage. They really were coming out of the woodwork these days, weren’t they?

“Good morning Slayer,” I said, squinting and pretending to be bothered by the sun’s light shining into my eyes. “I’m guessing Bishop Gallaspie approved of us meeting?”

“I talked to him last night at around eleven,” Slayer Derrick said, looking only slightly less tired than me. That might just be the wrinkles, though. “He said any time after ten would work. Sorry, but I had things I needed to finish this morning before I could come here.”

I rolled my eyes. “So when I attempted to convince him last night, he had already decided to say yes. How forgetful of him to neglect to mention that.”

I didn’t need to fake my irritation now. Gallaspie had decided right after meeting Derrick to head to my home, given the distance and time he’d claimed to have lurked outside my door. Then hadn’t mentioned it at all.

“Matthew did mention wanting to handle a few details before then,” Slayer Derrick said with a slight frown. “Are you ready for this Miss Harrow? You look like you’re about to collapse.”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I muttered. “I do not want to try and catch some sleep only for the Bishop to decide it’s now too later in the day or such nonsense.”

“Matthew isn’t that kind of person,” Derrick said.

I decided not to point out that the kind of person Matthew Gallaspie was could depend on who he was interacting with. We walked over to the carriage, the driver looking nervously around.

I’m sure the empty street in the middle of the Quarter must look frightening to some. After all, if a street here was empty, it must mean ambush, a group lying in wait to attack at the opportune moment to drag you underground and sacrifice your souls to their devil ancestors.

The chill air provided the actual reason for the emptiness. No one wanted to venture outside in this weather. The snow wasn’t falling but it still coated the ground. The sun was just a dull impression behind thick heavy clouds. Infernals would try to make their living inside today, and even if they were outside doing it, they’d have easier marks than a coach clearly marked in the Goddess of Death’s livery.

We all loaded up into the carriage, me and Gregory on one side, Derrick and her acolyte on the other. A flick of the reins and the carriage was off, beginning its trudge through the snows to Halspus’ cathedral.

Luckily not too far from the Quarter. A half hour if the streets were mostly empty. Halspus’ priests wanted to be close enough to the Quarter to keep an eye on.

“How go the preparations for the holiday, Slayer?” Gregory asked, breaking the silence. “When Miss Harrow told me you were still handling it, I was a little surprised. One would think the church would have assigned someone else to handle it?”

Derrick smiled slightly. “Ah, well, I suppose it might have made more sense to do it that way. However, I like having some things that are a little less stressful. And it is the most important day to Zaviel. And while perhaps not as valued as the souls still in living bodies, the welfare of many after death is worth protecting as well, is it not?”

I shrugged slightly, my eyes lidded. I couldn’t really offer an opinion on that. I already knew the fate of my soul after death. It wasn’t anything Zaviel could help with.

“That’s fair,” Gregory said. “And you must have been involved from the very beginning. Apologies, this investigation has felt much longer then it really has been.”

“In terms of the time that’s passed, definitely,” I said, letting my head lean against his shoulder, relaxing against him, pressing against his side. He tensed for only a moment. “Some weeks feel like years.”

“They certainly do with how much happens in them,” Derrick observed, winking at me.

Shite. I probably shouldn’t have done this, although I couldn’t possibly think of how Derrick would get this to Alice. Then again, all she needed to do is tell someone, anyone, and it would probably spread.

Screw it. Gregory was warm, and his coat was comfortable. I let me eyes close.

It was more difficult than people thought to pretend to be asleep while actually being awake. At least if you were already tired. I could feel my mind wanting to drift off.

“Anyway, the church does like me being involved,” Slayer Derrick said. “I am their greatest champion. For however much longer that will be.”

“Is there really no hope of breaking the curse? Voltar and Malvia know a powerful fey cas-”

“Singer Montague,” Derrick said politely but firmly. “I appreciate the gesture. But it’s been ten years of searching with the resources of a gracious Her Majesty and my own church’s best on the task. If they could not break the dying curse of a lich, I doubt the solution will suddenly appear. I have resigned myself to this, as early and as unfortunate as it might be.”

“Very well. Well, I hope it does go well,” Gregory said. “I’ve heard you had to spend a large amount of time recovering from those mercenary’s attacking you, even with the best of healers attending you.”

“Potions, mostly,” Derrick said. “The curse makes my body not react well to divine healing.”

“Still, it’s a lot of time recovering, helping with this investigation, and preparing for the Holy Day. As someone peripherally involved with some of Tarver’s, I can only imagine how much of your time is eaten up just being so involved with the Day of Closing Skies and Solemn Ground.”

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“Far from just that. Forcreek came to talk to me last night,” Slayer Derrick told him.

I tensed. Well. It looked like I wasn’t the only who’s had a nighttime visit by a Halspusian. I opened my eyes slightly.

“Really?” I said. “What about?”

“Guilt,” Derrick said distantly. “He talked of how he’d never killed before that attack on my carriage. About how the image of that mercenaries face kept on appearing in his dreams. How he kept hearing the screams.”

“His own church was little help?” I asked her.

“I think he sought more than one thing,” Derrick said. “He had an uncle, who fought Charlie Fawlkes in the same campaign I was part of. He wanted perspective on that, as well as advice.”

I pretended to be waking up a little more. “Dr. Dawes talked about it briefly. Sounds like it was a horror show. And Alberta Vesper as well.”

Derrick smiled thinly. “Alberta. Her and I never got along, and I guess what that curdled into I can’t entirely blame her for. I was the one who talked Daniel into going North. I was young, foolish, and blessed by Zaviel herself as a champion. What could go wrong?”

“Everything, is what I heard,” Gregory said. “My brother Henry, he wasn’t there but he’s told stories from people who were. Everyone thought Fawlkes would be a pushover. An old man trying to relive past glory, along with a few people who felt ill-done by Her Majesty backing him.”

“More than a few,” Slayer Derrick disagreed. “But they were not the real problem. No one expected the Lich. And as for those times…maybe sometime in the near-future. Maybe I’ll even speak of them on that day. But not now. Recounting them once was enough.”

“Mmmm,” I said sleepily, letting my eyes close again.

“Well, my apologies for dredging up past memories,” Gregory said. “Forcreek, did he seem otherwise disturbed?”

Derrick sighed. “Perhaps? Micheal has always been so seemingly solid, but perhaps recent encounters dredged up bad memories. There is how his family died, and to be so close to such death is never easy on the soul. And his healing has gone poorly, as I understood it.”

“The physical healing?”

“In part. He accepts the light of Halpsus as easily as before, it seems, but injuries keep on appearing. I worry he might be inflicting them himself. I’ve talked to Matthew, and he promised to take efforts to try and curtail it. He has apparently gotten in fights, is the rumour going around. Public ones with other parts of Halspus’ clergy. There’s been talk of censure. Keep in mind this is all second-hand. I think he’s just having a harder trial of his faith than expected.”

“Of course,” Gregory said. “I can emphasize a little. My own faith has had its fair share of shocks recently that have challenged my view on it.”

Wait, it had?

“Perhaps I should talk to him? Offer my own perspective?”

“Perhaps, but I would be careful.”

I let the discussion of Forcreek fade. Whether merely traumatized cleric or guilty as sin, I would determine that soon enough.

***

To my disappointment, I was not going to see the grand sights of the interior of the cathedral.

Instead, Slayer Derrick had led us to a nearby building where three very disgruntled Halspusian acolytes has been waiting around a locked disguised trapdoor. I was going in underground.

I shouldn’t be shocked they wouldn’t parade me in through the front door, much less let me enter. Especially if there was a chance I might be allowed back out. It wouldn’t do for the reputation of Halspus is Infernals could go in and out. Not melting into a puddle in the face of Halspus’ divine light was a grievous offense to all faithful Halspusians in the world.

The fact I wasn’t going to face that fate was clearly irritating the three Halpsusians guarding us. As fate, or more likely Bishop Gallaspie’s arrangements would have it, all three of them had been on my shop last night. They were clearly more tired than even me. They clearly were more irritated than me.

That was not going to stop my hells’-given right to annoy all of them.

“So how long until you think the Imperial government just gives up and collapses all of this?” I said louder than I needed to as we trudged along, adding an exaggerated yawn at the end.

The small tunnel we were in was barely wide enough to accommodate one person, meaning the speed was dependent on the acolyte in front. Gavon, who I knew must deliberately going slow.

“Depends,” Gregory said from right behind me. “Could they do it without causing the entire city to collapse?”

“It’s a miracle it hasn’t already,” I said, crouching down as the ceiling lowered for a stretch. This better not be a murder hole. “Depends, would they consider it worth the risk of bringing the entire city down to control the traffic beneath it?”

“Would you shut up, Foulhorn?” Muriel hissed from the very back of our little column. “You’re prattling will drive me to insanity.”

“At least the prattling and her being half-asleep makes her less dangerous,” Gavon rumbled ahead of us.

“No,” Gregory said. “If she’s sleepy and prattling on that’s when you need to watch out the most. Then she’s probably about one instant away from biting your throat out.”

I forced a smile and also forced my tail to reach back and slap him in the face. I needed to train him to not blurt those kinds of things out. Even when phrased jokingly, they risked too much. They did not need to know I could be faking being sleepy.

“Come now Gregory,” I said. “It’s been a long time since I did anything like that.”

“Really?” Slayer Derrick said from further back. “Didn’t you bite the throat out of one of the mercenaries attacking us?”

Oh. Drat.

“No, wait,” the Slayer said. “I misremember, you bit off most of his face.”

I considered what possible response I could have to that as the conversation died, and decided my efforts would be better spent just keeping quiet. No need to needle these people, and a good deal at risk if they took it even poorer than they had thus far.

It also gave me time to think. Everything had been arranged with Alice before I left, and right now she was waiting in that rented room, monitoring the tracker.

The plan had never been to bring the tracker inside the cathedral of course. I’d never be able to smuggle a crossbow bolt in here. Now, insisting Forcreek be at the meeting, noting the time he was in there, and seeing it the tracker was pointed directly at Bishop Gallaspie’s office during that time?

Much more achievable.

Gavon grunted, squeezed past another tight spot, then knocked on a portion of wall. It swung out. He moved through the new opening, sighing in relief as he could finally stand. I was next out, into a small room of polished marble. There was almost nothing in terms of furniture, just a simple chest and a chair containing a rather rotund, jovial man with muttonchops in a Halspusian robes.

His eyes flicked over me, mildly disapproving as Gavon inclined his head to him.

Gregory came out now, stretching as he emerged.

“Ah, young Lord Montague. Welcome to the House of Halspus, good sir.”

“Not a lord any longer, Father Hamiltar. Just a humble servant of Tarver. My father has made sure of that.”

“And paid for it already by alienating the talented of his family further. How that man manages to salvage himself out of further disasters, behaving how he does, well, now is not the time for gossip.”

Slayer Derrick was next, gasping in relief as her stooped frame straightened.

“Ah, Slayer Derrick,” Hamiltar said. “Always a pleasure to see you, even when you are bringing disreputable friends inside our most holy of houses.”

His eyes finally flicked my way, evaluating. I stared back, letting my eyes droop just a little sleepily.

“This is who Bishop Gallaspie insists we break from tradition for?” the cleric said. “It seems something of a waste to toss it out for this one.”

“She has information that she believes is of use to both our churches,” Slayer Derrick said diplomatically. “Can I have the chair, please? If I had known the walk would be this strenuous I would have entered another way.”

“Of course,” Hamiltar agreed, getting up, gaze still fixed on me. “So, this is the infamous Malvia Harrow, is it?”

I gave him a lazy nod of confirmation.

“Looks a bit more fishy than normal for a Foulhorn.”

I resisted the urge to snap at that. I didn’t know if it was intentional bait or not, but I did need to not give people the satisfaction. I was not that fish-like!

Hamiltar moved to the chest, producing a key and opening it, before pulling out a reliquary in silver, shining with a light that made my skin prickle.

“You may be the first person who wears this that we intend to live,” he told me as he opened it and withdrew the item inside. It was an armband, golden, suns and text in a language I didn’t recognize inscribed on it. In the center was a horned figure, hand outstretched up towards a blazing sun. “Do you know the history?”

“No,” I confessed. “I’ve just heard of its use before.”

“There’s a few different tales of its creation,” he told me. “The most common one was to tame the warlock of Banton, and force him to live out his life helping those he had tormented without being able to use his powers. There are others, but I suppose they would be wasted on you. This will hurt.”

A divine item of Halspus touching my skin hurting? What a surprise, Cleric Hamiltar! I kept my tongue in my mouth though. I could not provoke these people, so I merely proffered my arm.

Agony, pure agony as the blessed metal touched my skin, enough that my tail nearly struck the cleric. It felt like the worst kind of acid, they kind that ate to the bone even if you washed it because even the slightest amount-

I breathed, and with it the pain lifted, vanished, My tail was held by the Halspusian cleric, not firmly.

I pulled it back. “My apologies.”

“It is far from the worst reaction,” he said. “Pull on your magic?”

I pulled for that familiar magic, so eager, so ready and wanting to answer.

It was there. Unlike when I’d purposely cut myself off and buried it, I could feel the power lurking in my veins, but every effort to touch it glanced off. Any attempt to grab onto it found it slipping between my fingers like sand or water.

“Impressive,” I whispered.

“One of Halspsus’ most holy relics and the most it can say is impressive?”

I ignored the acolytes. There was something else to test.

“Imp?” I said quizzically.

No response, and not because it was choosing to be silent.

I needed to steal this artifact. Soon.

Hamiltar stared at me, a little annoyed at my seemingly random interjection. “The relic is working. Even so, the faintest touch of unholy magic detected in the cathedral, and you will be destroyed, Foulhorn.”

“Understood,” I replied drily, choosing not to comment on his lack of belief in his own deity’s artifacts. “So, we’ll be heading directly to his office?”

“Not quite,” the cleric said, reaching again in the chest. “We can hardly let an Infernal be seen inside the cathedral, can we?”

I stared in mounting annoyance at what he was pulling out. Well, at least it couldn’t be worse than the burlap sack.

***

I was wrong, and I wanted the burlap sack back.

If the intent of this was to make me want to assault them, giving them an excuse to kill me, I had to admit the Clerics of Halspus were doing a good job.

This damnable set of clothing felt like wearing rugs. It dragged. It pulled on my fins. My tail itched where the hemp rope tied it to my back. My hooves kept catching on the skirts. My fins felt cramped. The giant hat they’d put on my to hide my horns kept on swaying and tugging on them. I could barely see. Compared to this, the itch of the armband was but a mild annoyance.

“I think if this was summer this would make a very effective torture device,” I told Gregory as we trudged along. “I can feel-”

“Hush,” Hamiltar snapped, either not wanting to hear any details, or more likely not wanting anyone to overhear and get any suspicions. “Quiet, pilgrim.”

Well, I’d take that over Foulhorn.

Deciding not to risk the Halpsusian’s wrath, I did quiet my tongue. Slow-going, with skirts this long and clothing this thick. The heavy mourning veil that did a good job at hiding my face did a better job hiding the cathedral’s interior.

Not that were anywhere near the most important areas. A lot of corridors, more stairs that I had to be careful on lest I trip on the skirts, then more narrow corridors. The long, circuitous route either meant to confuse me on the interior layout of the cathedral, or was plotted to keep me away from as many public areas and important parts of the cathedral as possible.

By the time we reached the fourth floor, I was certain we’d gone from

Finally one of my companions got tired enough to speak up since I couldn’t.

“Hamiltar,” Slayer Derrick said, out of breath and lightly panting. “While I appreciate your need for security, all this walking around is not doing these old bones any favor. Please. She is not capable of doing anything dangerous.”

I personally disagreed with that, but I wasn’t going to speak up if it lessened the time in here. The polished marble was slippery for my hooves. That and the skirt’s length was proving very problematic.

I couldn’t see Hamiltar’s face, but his mood was clear from the curt clipped tone. “Very well. Two more corridors, than the spiral stairs will take us to the tower Bishop Gallaspie resides in. I’ll fetch Acolyte Forcreek. Despite his recent seclusion, he is still the Bishop’s clerk and scribe.”

Slayer Derrick paused in her walking. “Is it alright for him to hear the information you plan on sharing, Miss Harrow?”

I cocked my head to the side as if thinking, then immediately regretted shifting the weight on top of my horns. It didn’t hurt, it just pulled in an annoying way.

“It should be fine,” I said slowly. “I think he should be fine hearing it. As long as no one doubts his loyalties.”

This was actually ideal, which made me immediately suspicious. I needed Forcreek in that room so we could know if the tracker pointed to it at that time. Hamiltar had done a decent job at throwing my sense of internal navigation off, but I knew generally where we were. Being in a tower would make it even easier. I’d planned to ask for Forcreek to be with us once we reached the Bishop’s office, if he wasn’t there already.

The fact they wanted to bring him up there, and had also volunteered that he was in seclusion felt too neat. But it could just be mundanity. But the small of my back itched.

We moved through a door to some spiral stairs, and after entirely too long trying not to trip on these skirts we reached the top.

With no one else up here, I removed the restrictive clothing, muttering curses as it kept getting tangled with my horns, then bit the rope holding my tail off.

There was only a single door up here, iron and embossed with an image of Halspus striking down a four-tongued devil awash with pestilence foulness. Pleasant.

“Lonely up here,” I observed as I removed last of it.

“He likes it,” Derrick said. “Shocking as it may be, Matthew is not a people person.”

“Really?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m surprised he said to meet him here, usually he sleeps in one of the common rooms. He doesn’t like being separated from his acolytes, or living in more luxury than them.”

Well. I couldn’t twist that around into anything negative on the man.

“Matthew doesn’t use his office too often at all,” Derrick explained as we moved to the door. “He leaves most of the administrative work that doesn’t need his personal attention to Forcreek. Still, it’s not that badly maintained-“

Her voice cut off as Gregory opened the door.

The Bishop’s office was very well-kept, well-appointed. Tasteful. Hard to appreciate that at the moment.

Bishop Matthew Gallaspie sat at his desk, leaned back, hands resting on the armrests. A perfect round hole punched in the middle of his forehead, lifeless eyes staring at us.

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