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 then?”
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 besides 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 baring 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?”
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
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 convince 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!”