Melissa froze, her expression of smug satisfaction immediately turning to fear. The color drained out of her, leaving her nearly as white as a human. Her eyes flickered between my face and Versalicci. Comparing structures and details. Making connections. Sure, half of my ancestry came a few thousand miles away from his, but we did share one parent.

I would have laughed if only I could get my face to move. It was too busy aching and oozing ichor onto my brother’s carpet.

“Mr. Versalicci,” she stuttered. “I….I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t know because I didn’t tell you,” he said, tone light. “I told you I wanted Malvia Harrow unharmed. Allowing for how difficult I know she can be this is a little much.”

He’d gotten closer to her the entire time. The rest of her crew subtly moved away, leaving her on her own, and got another croaking, attempted laugh out of me.

“Malvia, please stop drooling blood on my carpet. I know your mother didn’t raise you like some wild animal.”

I didn’t think it was possible to increase the flow of blood out of me, but I was suddenly willing to try. I tried to say something else, only for my jaw to fail me once again. The hells had they broken that I couldn’t form words? I’d just fixed my fucking tongue!

Melissa meanwhile, continued stammering out apologies and excuses in equal measure while her compatriots tried to put some distance between themselves and her.

“Melissa, please be quiet for a moment. Trish, the shelves behind the bar, second from the top, there will be a red bottle, thin-necked. Be a dear and grab it for me.”

My consciousness faded again till I felt something being poured down my gullet, and reflexively I swallowed.

Flesh knit itself together, and within seconds it sealed up my wounds. That potion had been more potent than anything I’d ever made. What had been the base, phoenix blood, or maybe something related to a hydra?

Either way, it left me finally awake and in the room with my half-brother and his goons.

I sputtered a bit, coughing out a little of the potion. At some point, Laurata’s replacement had left, and two new toughs had come in, flanking both of my sides. They’d put me in a chair I didn’t try to get out of. No need to take another punch to the face.

Versalicci was seated across from me, considering.

“Hrrm, looks like the eye isn’t coming back. Did Melissa carve that out, sister, or did someone else do it instead?”

“The eye’s not her fault,” I said. “That was something else that caused that injury, so don’t hold it against her.”

“Your own work, isn’t it?” Versalicci asked me. “What have I told you about stunts like that, sister?”

“Given the choice between that and death, I’ll take losing the eye,” I told him.

“Is this a test?” Melissa asked, realization dawning on her face.

“Yes,” I muttered, at the same time as Versalicci calmly stated “No.”

He turned to look at me, the smile fading just a little. “Why dear sister, I hope you aren’t implying-”

“That you arranging for me to be a test for one of your newest hire’s self-restraint is something that you would do? Especially if it resulted in her turning my face into something you’d find on a butcher’s countertop? Yes.”

“Fair enough.” Versalicci got up, clapping his hands together. “Everyone, if you don’t mind, I think I’d like to have a private chat, family affair and all that. Melissa, don’t stray too far. We need to talk about your part in this later.”

The toughs seemed reluctant to leave, one of them opening their mouth for some kind of protest, only for it to shut as Versalicci waved him off.

“Fawkes, if it sounds like my little sister is trying to kill me, you have my invitation to come inside, but if she manages it before you enter, I would deserve it.”

A more ringing endorsement from the man himself to eat him if you can, the Imp whispered in my ear. Don’t lie to yourself and say the idea isn’t tempting.

Outside of freeing the Imp from its contract and the fact the taste would be terrible, I wouldn’t put it past Versalicci’s flesh to poison me after eating it.

Versalicci got up, heading over to the bar.

“New set of people,” I noted. “Is everyone dead, then? I know that pyromancer you brought in is doing Biosculpting now, at least.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised how little death has a way of sticking these days. I’m talking to a person most here thought was dead right now.”

I got out of the chair slowly, and he didn’t seem to react. “When is that going to be discussed?”

“Oh, later. Business first. I’ll brew us some drinks. You take tea these days, right?”

“Yes,” I said, sitting down at one of the smaller tables. This was less a salon than it was a nobleman’s parlor for hosting parties. Appearances. They’d have stolen all of this, and it would all be prominent pieces as well. Now reserved for thugs and conmen to sit in while getting their orders from Versalicci.

Or occasionally having their heads beaten in by Versalicci.

There was the stocked bar Versalicci worked at, the piano, the entire missing wall that was instead a giant chasm probably ending in a several hundred-foot drop perhaps only a half dozen feet from me. Normal details for your average parlor.

I kept a wary eye on Versalicci and the doors as I looked over the chasm. I couldn’t see the bottom, even with lantern light.

“This is new,’ I observed, looking over the curve of the stonework. “I see you’ve put a fair bit of effort into remaking Understreet.”

“Ah, ah. Don’t call it that. Understreet was the past. This is the future we’re building here.”

“What’s the future called, then?”

“Some of the younger recruits have called it the Street Beneath.”

Of course, they have. Mortals, as unimaginative as those stone things you insist on making buildings with.

“Bricks. I did mean private for this conversation. Sleep, Xss’thh’zzrt.”

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

I cocked my head to one side. That was the name of the Imp, which I refused to use both because it was hard on the tongue and I’d chosen to stop being respectful to the demon they’d stuck inside my brain.

“I can’t tell if that worked,” I said. “It’s not saying anything, but it might just be staying quiet and listening in.”

“It sleeps. I am the holder of the contractor, so I know when it works.”

“I don’t suppose you could teach me how to do that then, or how to remove it entirely?”

“No, I will not Malvia,” Versalicci said reproachfully. “It is a teacher and a tool, and its purpose isn’t quite fulfilled yet.”

“It’s a pain that you inflicted on me because you wanted more control, and it keeps trying to convince me to turn to cannibalism.”

Versalicci put on an expression of feigned pain. “Inflicted? Dear sister, did you not agree to take it as a teacher and guide when I suggested it to you? Did you not ask me to find some way for you to control your powers before they caused harm to someone?”

“I was fifteen, had very little idea what I was doing, and was following the guidance of someone I thought knew better. To my surprise, you took advantage of that to plant a demon inside me, you son of a bitch.”

“Language,” Versalicci said lightly. “Enough on the imp. I’m not surprised to see you here, on two separate matters, I suppose.”

“I’m sure you have some inkling of the mess involving Angel’s Sorrow,” I started.

“Oh, I’ve been following it closely. Such a rare poison to suddenly be used would attract attention.”

“That and the fact you’ve been implicated in its use, I’m sure.”

Versalicci nodded. “The package with Golvar. You found out what was inside then?”

“Oh yes,” I said. “And after a few minutes to think, realized what an incredibly stupid idea it would be for you to be responsible or even involved with this. Of course, not everyone will think that, especially those who don’t know you. It’s a little amusing, actually.”

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow. “How would you think so?”

“You spent so much of your life exploiting the prejudices of wealthy humans to sneak in and nearly take their power away without them realizing it. Now, you might take a hit because those same prejudices will convince enough of them you’re vindictive enough but not intelligent enough to go through with a plot like this. I guess they are half-right, which is better than being entirely wrong.”

“True enough,” Versalicci said, returning from behind the bar. “Any sugar in your tea?”

“No, I’m good,” I said. “Obviously you clearing your name is a bit of an issue. The only reason you aren’t more notorious than you are is people were too embarrassed to admit what had happened and covered it up afterwards rather than admit you were running half the city from your little lair under it.”

Versalicci laughed as he put my cup down, a short, unrefined bark of raucous amusement that startled me.

“Oh, Malvia, close but not close enough,” he said, taking a sip of his own concoction. “I’m sure they would love to cover that up, but while some people are embarrassed and powerful enough indeed, do you think they’d be powerful enough to ignore the queen herself if she took an interest?”

I grabbed the teacup, giving the brew an idle sniff as I thought on that. “Are you accusing the queen of collaborating with you?”

He laughed again. “If the queen is aware of who I am, I imagine she’d want to strangle me herself. No, I have very little insight into why Her Majesty and her government have decided ripping me out root and stem is something they shouldn’t pursue.”

“Perhaps she’s discovered tolerance in her old age,” I said.

“Perhaps,” he said. “She is not the only one who has changed recently. I must commend you on the new mask, even if it’s a little fragile. And leading you in directions you shouldn’t. Dealing with nobles Malvia? A grave error. Even worse, you’ve started associating with Voltar, which is sure to make a sticky end for you. Much more painful than any I could plan, I’m sure.”

“First, I trust Voltar about as far as I can throw him, which means I trust him more than you. Second, I already faced a sticky end without him. Third, did you put fucking holy water in this tea?”

I’d not taken a sip and had instead put the tip of my finger in for only a moment before pulling it out. The tip of my finger hissed, blue skin eaten away, blood pouring out. I wrapped a napkin around it while glaring at a laughing Versalicci.

“You always used to get the worst allergies this time of year when you were still with us. I thought it might keep you from sniffing it out. It was worth the attempt at least. If you were foolish enough to fall for that, even the bonds of family have its limits.”

He reached for the teacup cautiously, tossing it into the abyss next to us.

“I remember when we did this trick on Malacti, and after I let him live, I dumped it on the fire? You started listing vaporization rates at me like a lecture right before the vapor started burning all our skins.”

He chuckled at the memory. I declined to join his mirth..

“Speaking of jokes, I will note that you should please stop implying you were Laurenta. I’m quite serious about Donna. She got very upset about the entire thing. You could not believe the assurances I had to give she was still the only love in my life.”

“You have the godsdamned corpse you could dig up,” I said. “And let’s not move past the fact you just tried to poison me with holy water!”

“Oh please,” he said, rolling his eyes. “If you’d drunk it, the most that would happen is some mild scalding of your throat-“

“Siblings don’t try to fucking murder each other during tea!” I snapped at him.

He stared at me blankly. “You’re trying too hard.”

“What?”

He rolled his eyes. “The cursing, the constant antagonism, the abrasiveness. I know you’ve done more politeness with this mask. This, this is just trying to force one to escape.”

“This is not a game of masks,” I told him, one hand with its claws scratching the table while the other crept towards a table knife.

He seemed unconcerned. “All conversations are a game of masks, Malvia, and I know yours better than most. I don’t particularly care which one you put on, but I won’t tolerate a sloppy one. Enough pleasantries though, to business.”

“If you want to discuss business, fine. Sure, it’s idiotic of you to try poisoning noble heirs and then have me cure them. Especially since the price I was demanding was nowhere near as cutthroat as it could have been. That doesn’t change the fact that Golvar was transporting Angel’s Sorrow for you. Why?”

Versalicci poured himself another drink, refused to fetch me a fresh cup, and drank most of his before speaking again. I forced myself still, determined not to let any sign of irritation appear.

“A trade,” he said. “Because while you might think this is a matter of some import for me, sister, it is far from it. Let the nobles dig down into the depths after me. They’ll never find me. You think this is my residence?”

He gestured towards everything in the salon, the piano, the well-stocked bar, everything.

“It is just a temporary residence I can vanish out of like that,” he snapped his fingers. “So sister, if you want some information, I need something in return.”

“I knew that before even coming here,” I said. “Name your price. I can’t guarantee I’ll match it, but we’ll see.”

Versalicci sipped his drink while I considered if getting up to make my tea would be even worth the time.

Eventually, he finished after an agonizing set of seconds.

“I need you to contact Father for me. Another relative I must have a long overdue chat with, and you’re the best-qualified person to arrange that.”

He could not be serious.

“No. Get someone else,” I said. “I’m not playing messenger for you, and I’m not doing it so you can talk to him. The Watch can’t have murdered every single Diabolist you had, and you can’t have been lacking in recruits.”

Versalicci sighed. “I didn’t mention this at the time because I didn’t want you to be afraid, but the reason we had you act as the messenger between Father and me was because before then, every Diabolist who tried contacting him had their heads pop like cherries. Daver theorized the familial connection would prevent that.”

I didn’t reply. The china of the tea cup’s handle buckled.

Versalicci waited for a second, then continued. “Well, the first one I had tried after your disappearance had a similar result, and our other half-siblings are dead. I decided to leave you alone, despite what you’d done, and even if our half-siblings’ deaths are your-”

“Fuck off, Giovanni,” I snarled. “You had me do that? Based on the words of Daver, a fucking drunkard who’d rotted his own leg off by accident? And you want to talk down to me about our half-sibling’s deaths?”

“Language. You volunteered, and please don’t speak ill of Daver. That man has done so much for you, and I’ll not have ingratitude spoken of him from you.”

I resisted the urge to slam the cup on the table. Don’t lose your temper. He wants you angry, not thinking. He redirects, even if your anger starts with him by the time it ends, it’ll be with him.

“Is it ingratitude to speak such of a person whose caution towards the magic that killed him could be described as reckless at best,” I said. “And drop the big brother act, please.”

“That would only happen if it was an act,” Versalicci said. “I knew you’d be able to do it.”

“Again, I don’t believe you,” I muttered, but it was barely a protest.

As much as his justifications were false, he had a point.

I wasn’t making it out of here with any information without paying. In all honesty, not getting a strip torn out of my hide just for what I’d done was more than I expected, so this wasn’t too onerous a price. If I ignored that I’d be summoning a Duke of the Hells to communicate with one of his mortal spawn.

“Fine. Give me a room and tools, and I’ll bring him out for you. But this is the one time.”

Versalicci smiled. “The one time now. I imagine we’ll have future trades to make, if you insist on our relationship being like that.”

“Just get me an empty space.”