I spent the next two days in the house, to deal with making sure I truly had not picked up any diseases from my dip in the Nover and to work on making some potions. Definitely not because I’d been confined to the house.
I’d decided not to test it. I wasn’t some child to be scolded and confined to their room, and one day Voltar would regret treating me as such. Not today, since I had caused some offense. That and I didn’t want to accidentally provoke whatever Imperial Intelligence officers might watch over me.
Dawes’ mirth had faded fast, and he’d taken me aside afterward.
“It’s understandable since it was life or death, but this is becoming a pattern,” he warned me. “One that isn’t pointing to anything good.”
I hadn’t had an answer for him, and I still didn’t.
Voltar had met with Malstein twice, the second time to interrogate Jasper, which led to the current conversation I was having with him in the lab I’d set up in his attic.
“I still think leaving the basilisk and whatever else is down there for after this is a mistake,” I said as I finished powdering up some leaves in a mortar, the resulting powder gleaming at the bottom. “With what’s occurred up here, they could change locations, and we might never find them again.”
Jasper had finally given up the location the Pure Bloods had been based out of underground after some convincing from Malstein and questioning from Voltar, neither of which I’d been present for.
“We’ve been over this,” Voltar replied, keeping a wary distance after I’d told him the ventilation up here was still a work in progress. “We’ll want Delver involvement, and even if the information is accurate, it could still mean days of trekking through those tunnels. Your Pure Blood capture claims to have never seen a basilisk, or anything resembling an alchemy lab or a trapped celestial. It may just be an attempt to draw our attention away.”
I nodded as I grabbed some glassware. I’d found some decent gloves and a halfway decent mask, but I’d need to find something for my eyes soon. Either that or I would make no volatile mixtures. Anything less than top-rate glass had a tendency to... explode under those heats.
I’d had enough of losing my eyes.
“It’s still a more concrete location than we’d get out of Delver Guild reports of where the Basilisk is roaming,” I said. “Depending on how long a leash they’ve given the Basilisk, we could search several cubic miles of tunnels trying to find their lab.”
“Then it’s best to focus on finding additional sources of information, wouldn’t you agree?”
I sighed. Malstein apparently also didn’t want to risk an assault on the Pure Blood base underground, and unless we had direct evidence of the Basilisk being there, the Delvers Guilds would be unlikely to help us. And Voltar had a point. I doubted the Pure Bloods were being trusted with the actual location of the lab making Angel's Sorrow.
"So, from the rest of the interrogation Jasper claims the Pure-bloods were contacted months ago by Lord Montague, and have been given money, materials, and this underground base?"
"Pretty much," Voltar said. "It's a neat little bit of manipulations. The Pure-Bloods consider themselves righteous citizens of the realm, outside the odd bit of smuggling and protection racketeering. They might be criminals, but they're criminals who are willing to help keep this grand country of ours purified from the taint of foul blood and outside influence. In another life and time they might have aimed at being paladins."
I gagged. "I've actually met a few paladins as part of the Delvers, and while some of them were judgmental, there's a mile of distance between them and these thugs."
"Yes, well don't let reality keep a good delusion down," Voltar said. "The fake Lord Montague sold them on pardons for helping him and by extension Her Majesty's Government with a little Infernal problem."
"Joy, and they just believed him?"
"Apparently the fake Lord Montague produced enough evidence to convince the boss of the gang of his veracity. What that is, Jasper is unaware of."
“Brilliant. Well, we're back to maybe trapping one of them," I said, pouring the powder into a beaker. "That or some shape-changer flesh samples. We need to identify them, because I doubt they’re going to keep Hawkins around all the time. After a while, you think they would tire of the theatrics.”
“I’ve given some thought to that,” Voltar said, nearing the lab a little more. Not close enough to warn but if he wanted his sinuses to suffer, it was his risk to take. I’d already put plugs into my own nose.
“Into how to identify them?” I asked as I grabbed a vial of an orange liquid and unstoppered it. Ten…nine…eight…
“No, but instead into the age of….what on earth is that?”
Voltar beat a swift retreat to the ladder, already halfway down. His eyes watering, he kept his head poking out above the floor.
“Core ingredient for the acid I’m brewing. Milked out of a giant ant. The pincer, not any other part of it. I could have made something with more potency, but they tend towards the much pricier side, and anything less potent doesn’t act fast enough.”
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“And you are making it in my attic?”
“I know what I’m doing,” I said defensively. “I can’t make it anywhere else. The ventilation lower in the house is even worse, and this should prove rather effective. Eats through flesh easily enough. You were saying about their age?”
“Theorizing that they get better able to handle fake identities as they grow, Hawkins might be a youth, using a very distinct personality as a-This can be a conversation for later.”
Voltar’s head disappeared past the floor. I hadn’t even needed to uncap the poison ingredients to do it, either.
***
By the time I’d finished my brewing, Voltar had done some brewing of his own. Specifically tea, which we both enjoyed as I looked over the details of Lord Montague’s party that had been sent over.
“Seventy guests,” I muttered, looking over the list again. “I’m surprised he has this much pull. Even if half of them are non-nobles.”
Half of the guest list was nobles of a similar rank to Lord Montague, except a baron who’d been his guardian years back. Most of them appeared to be of a similar age to his children, which was strange. Not wanting to put his own friends at risk? The rest were prominent families of the city, some stretching centuries back, including one family I did not want to encounter.
“I’ll need some time with my Bio-sculpting tools later. Maybe the entire evening.” It was going to be a very delicate task for which I was using them.
“You will change your face for the ball?” Voltar asked me.
“Certainly,” I replied. “Especially after I saw the guest list. Unless you want a scene the moment I get spotted by any of the four Xangs Lord Montague invited.”
Aunt Diwei and her family, none of whom I’d ever traded friendly words with that last year I’d lived as a Xang. Not since then, although I’d never met my cousins after that point.
“Seeing me there would have her demanding to know what I’m doing,” I said. “Especially given recent events.”
It had not shocked me to learn that as soon as ‘Katheryn Falara’ had outed herself as a diabolist and Black Flame lieutenant that my family had tried to take sole custody of my mother.
The Imperials had stopped them. Not out of any desire to do me a favor but because of the deal I’d cut. Til they figured out what manner of curse my mother had been afflicted with, in Imperial custody she would remain.
“It is perhaps for the best,” Voltar agreed. “We could do with as little chaos as possible. Especially since they will be expecting a trap.”
I grimaced. He was, unfortunately, right, and this case was my fault.
“I must apologize,” I said. “If it wasn’t for me engaging them on the pier- “
“You’d be dead, and they would probably suspect the same thing,” Voltar interrupted me. “While the results weren’t good for us, they all can’t be blamed on you.”
The closest I would get to an apology for sending me out there on my own, not that I wanted one. It should have been something I could manage on my own, if not for the Shape-changers.
I turned my attention and the topic back to the information provided.
“Not a lot of information here,” I said. “Only the assurance he’ll only use his regular staff and invitations for you, me, and Doctor Dawes. No others to be allowed, and no information on what security will be. He’s playing this close to the chest.”
“As to be expected. Gregory has been of a little more help in getting information to me, but his father trusts him only slightly more than you or me.”
I hummed as I looked over a floor plan of the manor we’d been sent. By which I meant the first floor only, none of which had been labeled. Mind you, that would be the only floor where guests were allowed, but that didn’t help us if the intruders infiltrated an upper floor.
“I can’t blame him too much,” I muttered. “Even if he did like us, with shape-changers running around, two people knowing a secret is one person too many. I imagine you won’t be telling him about Malstein then?”
Once Malstein had been brought in the loop, the Captain had agreed to keep as many Watchmen as he could muster to wait outside the party. Which was twenty total, his command in the Watch being smaller than what a Captain’s should be. Not a good sign.
“I’m sure his reaction would be not positive for anyone involved,” Voltar said. “Let Lord Montague worry about the three of us and be blissfully ignorant of anyone else until it’s needed. Meanwhile, for our entrances to the party?”
“He said my invitation could be as staff or guest, depending on our preference.”
“We could, of course, have you as a servant at the party,” Voltar said.
“Pass,” I said. “I’ll stand out. Lord Montague doesn’t have Infernal servants. Even at odds, people think I’m security or report me as a thief who snuck in. Thinking on it, considering Lord Montague, they’ll assume I’m just a thief trying to sneak in.”
“I assume biosculpting yourself to appear human is out of the question?”
“Yes. Even if I was willing, we’d be taking multiple days even to attempt it, and it would be…messy. I’d resemble a wax statue set out in the sun afterward.”
In truth, it wouldn’t be that bad, but the less time I had to sculpt and then set, the more likely the body would return to its natural form, even in slight ways. The nubs of a tail and horns? Those could probably be hidden from all but a keen eye. Skin tinged lightly blue and feet partially reformed to hooves? Less so.
And that was ignoring my legs trying to reverse the ways their knees bent. And those would be just the ones from trying to suppress my Infernal features.
“There was another suggestion that would work better then,” Voltar said. “Having you as a guest.”
“Even less believable,” I said. “Lord Montague choosing to invite an Infernal? Him having an Infernal servant would already be beyond what most who’ve met the man would believe.”
Voltar smiled. “That has already been considered. Luckily, we have a member of his family who is known for being at odds with his father, who I’ve already talked to.”
“Ah,” I said. “Joy. Another reason to have a mask on.”
“Some personal animosity after your last visit together?”
“No,” I said. “I just don’t want to be known as the girl picked up just to make his father mad about his choice of date. But the main concern is family, unless you want my aunt probably threatening me at swordpoint. Besides that, I don’t have a dress, and my training in etiquette is non-existent.”
“You have a scheduled appointment with a dressmaker a couple of days before the party, which Gregory Montague will go with you to.”
There was silence as I stared blankly at Voltar.
“You know part of my issue with you is when you just assume I’ll make the decision you’ve selected?” I said.
“I have servant’s livery ready as well,” Voltar said evenly. “And if you wish to observe from afar or above, we can have you fake an illness tomorrow within view of the windows and work on smuggling you out the day of.”
I drummed my fingers on the table. Not much of a choice, since the entire point of securing invitations was so we could be on the inside when all hell broke loose. So in the end, I’d be once again doing what had been set before me.
“What’s the name and address of the dressmaker?”