The more things changed, the more they stayed the same. Me, a Watch interrogation room, and the law trying to pry the truth out of me in any way it could.
Thinner wrists chafed less in Watch restraints, which was a nice change. I also welcomed the lack of torturers. Although they might come out later.
Then again, maybe the stifling heat and lack of air were replacements for those torturers. That and the feeling of the table’s edge pressing into my stomach. The interrogation room stretched maybe four feet by six, with the back of my chair set against the wall and the table between me and the interrogator taking up over half the room. Already, my stomach rebelled against the pressure. Empty as it was, it might expel both my breakfast and the mead from the Hells' Own if the table pressed in any further.
Across from me stood my interrogator, a middle-aged man in Watch coat and bowler hat, piercing eyes staring sullenly from underneath the brim. Papers clutched in his hands, he’d chosen to stand, pacing back and forth between shot-off questions trying to find a target. The documents in his hands were for theatrics. He hadn’t taken his gaze off my face once in this interview.
The interrogation was standard. I’d done several as Falara and many more as Malvia, and nothing had changed in eight years. Different faces opposite me, a different topic, same questions, and style. Well, some differences.
I was a little insulted even. Only one interrogator? The standard back in my days as Malvia had been at least two.
“-furthermore, witnesses claim you were conversing with the other Infernal for quite sometime before the fight. You still claim you were only talking about the circumstances of his injury?”
“Healing people isn’t an easy process, detective,” I said. “I needed to make sure I was getting to each injury, sewing them up properly. We did discuss his pursuers, but that was because I wanted to be prepared if they showed up. Which they did.”
“You didn’t discuss why he’d been stabbed, the contents of the box he was carrying, any of that?”
“I broached the subject, but he didn’t seem willing to answer. Considering the urgency of the situation, I didn’t feel it necessary to confront over.”
“Just feeling charitable that day then? Helping a stranger with no idea what you’re getting into.”
I shrugged as much as the restraints would allow. My arms had been tied back behind the chair, my ankles shackled to the chair. If I wasn’t already familiar with the process, I’d suspect they knew of my arcane talents beyond Alchemy. This was just how they operated.
“I try to live by the ideal, but he also was rather insistent. Truth be told, I thought refusing would likely result in him attempting to stab me.”
“You had multiple weapons on you, and you were afraid of a bleeding out criminal being a danger to you.”
I dragged down my annoyance. I needed to be the epitome of politeness. Irritating the watchmen was a good way to end up here “on suspicion” of something. Being held while they conducted some sham investigation was not something I could afford.
“Yes, because just because I’m armed is not a guarantee, Detective. I may still end up dead.”
Rotting away in some cell 'til I started changing colors and they realized who I really was? Not an option.
“So you decided to instead fight six other people?”
“I didn’t have much of a choice then. Again, when he originally approached me he just wanted help in finding a safe place and healing for his wounds. He figured I either knew someone or was capable of it. Not too many dress this finely in the District.”
I could hardly reach out to my patrons for help either. Lord Montague’s reaction would probably be to immediately have my residence robbed to try and find the doses of elixir. That or hire another alchemist. If he weighed the knowledge of his son's poisoning being revealed to his rivals against it coming out he leaned on the Watch to free me, I may as well prepare for a life in the Coffin.
“Why didn’t you take him to the Watch instead? You could have just brought him to us.”
“Well, firstly time was of the essence. I wanted to bring him to a relatively empty place and heal his wounds as best I could. Otherwise, I don’t think he would make it very far. Secondly detective, with no offense intended, the presence of the Watch in the district is a little light on the ground.”
Lady Karsin would be more polite but her heir was cured. Short another successful poisoning attempt, her use for me was at an end for now. She might consider freeing me in the future if she needed me. That sentiment would last 'til my true face was revealed.
“Let’s turn to something else,” the Detective said, admitting defeat for now. We’d been over this same point a few different times. He kept trying different angles, but ultimately failed to find what he looked for.
I would be out of here by now if this were just handling the aftermath of a simple street fight. Sure, multiple murders were attached, but that was nothing new for the Infernal Quarter. The Watch being in the Infernal Quarter already was a departure from the norm. Golvar’s box had to be the reason to keep trying to make me crack. But they hadn’t asked about where it was now once.
“Inventory was done on your belongings. We have a few questions on them.”
“Yes?” I asked, already knowing this would not be just be a few questions. Based on past experience, this would be an endurance test of questions over the potential legality or illegality of everything they considered of note on my possessions. They’d once questioned my choice of boots and asked about who made them.
That ended up being because they’d tried to slip magical tracers in my next pair at the store. It’d taken a week before I made the connection.
“We took a look at your license, and it appears to be legitimate, but even still some of the materials you were carrying seem quite peculiar to be walking around with.”
Ah, that was good. I was hoping they wouldn’t take a close look at it. It could stand up to anything but alchemical testing, the watermarks had been duplicated so well. There had been the risk they’d run it to an alchemist for tests. They had apparently decided it wasn’t worth the money.
“I’m an alchemist officer,” I said. “It’s my job to walk around with things in my pockets people would find peculiar.”
He ignored me and actually shuffled through the sheets of paper. They weren’t entirely a prop, then.
“One saber, coated in blood, tinted with something that doesn’t look very pleasant, does it?”
“Rat poison,” I answered. “Hardly illegal.”
“Indicative of a cruel mind, striking someone with something like this. You like people bleeding?”
“I prefer people not to attempt stabbing, shooting, or otherwise hurting me, constable, but I’ve learned over the years in the city that some people will not stop unless firmly given a message.”
“Various acids, potions, elixirs, including three mixtures that could be explosive if mixed properly.”
Strange. No question about the Box, which is what I anticipated next. “While true, so are the components of gunpowder, and those aren’t considered illegal. And the combination of many different chemicals can produce explosives.”
He grunted, deserted that line of questioning. He shouldn’t have too many more items on the list.
“We looked through your coin purses, and found a rather large amount of pounds in one of them.”
“I expect I’ll be receiving it back much lighter then,” I joked.
“An awful lot of coins to be carrying around on the street,” the copper observed. The corners of his mouth hadn’t even flickered at my joke. They’d carved this one out of stone.
They were going to question every single one of my belongings, weren’t they? “I have recently come into a commission.”
“Don’t suppose you can name who it’s with?”
If I wanted Montague after my neck, certainly. “I can’t name who with, but you can talk to Edward Edwards, the bartender at the Hells' Own, or Tolman Greskatz, a fighter at the Holver arena. Both can confirm I was meeting with a client just before the attack.”
“Scum naming scum. I know Edwards, and his word is trash. We’ll see what this Tolman has to say.”
“Is that all?” I asked, injecting just the right amount of weariness into it. Just enough to come off as tired but also unconcerned about whatever they may find.
“No, it is not,” the Watch officer replied with a scowl in his face. He glared at the doorway. “It appears one of the department’s consultants has taken an interest and requested some time to interview you, so you’ll be in his hands for now.”
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“Now, Detective Mortray, no need to sound so glum. We’ll only be borrowing your witness for a short amount of time.”
Two gentlemen, both in well-appointed suits, both approaching their early forties. One of them was wide and short whereas the other was thin and tall. The short one’s mutton-chopped visage was topped with a bowler, while his taller cleanshaven friend had a short mop of brown hair mixed with a nose like a hawk.
Voltar and Dawes. Dramalsen’s premier detective and his faithful companion. Sworn rivals and enemies of Versalicci and all in his employ. Personal bedevillers of criminals everywhere, but specifically the Black Flame and all who were part of it. Including me. They were the consultants.
Oh. Fuck.
There’d be no room for error. I seized the nerves in my face and forced it into an expression of excitement.
“Mr. Voltar and Dawes! I’m such a fan of your stories, it’s such an honor to meet the both of you in person!”
Good, good Malvia. I’d almost convinced myself I’d believed that. Beaming so much I could melt a hole in the wall, I desperately tried to pull a hand out of my restraints.
“I have a notebook, one of my alchemical field journals, in the Detective’s possession. If it wouldn’t bother either of you, I would greatly appreciate it if Mr. Dawes could sign it? Your work in forensics is an inspiration to us all! Oh, and your signature as well, Mr. Voltar, if that’s not being too forward?”
I’d burn the journal immediately after-no wait I’d need to transcribe the contents first-actually scratch both of those thoughts and sell the signatures to someone who actually wanted them for some easy money. Although I wasn’t entirely lying about Dawes. The man was fiendishly good at his craft, and some of the articles he’d penned were very illuminating.
They’d both fought me, both physically and in wits, many times in the past. I’d never won. Versalicci had, several times, and held it over my head each time.
Voltar looked at me, slightly grinning in slight amusement. Arrogant bastard. “Miss, I believe you are here for an interrogation? Although maybe we can discuss it after you’re released from custody.”
“Oh, my apologies, detectives. Of course.”
I was going to find whatever pit of hell Golvar’s soul had been consigned to, drag it back here, sculpt his face till his eyes were crushed and his tongue ripping itself to shreds. Then I’d repeat it till I was satisfied. That dumb asshole had dragged me right back into everything I’d spent five years of my life trying to escape.
And I’d cried over his death? I should have thrown his body into the chapel and let holy fire consume it.
“I’d be happy to help such an esteemed pair, especially since you are so polite, unlike some people.”
If the detective was bothered by my barb, it didn’t show. The Doctor frowned while the Detective’s polite smile remained precisely the same.
“Well, if that’s the case, we have been listening to your current interview. You don’t mind some further questions?”
Interview. What a nice way to put it. I did notice the Watch officer’s face glower at the admission others had been listening in. No love was lost there.
“Of course, not a problem.”
“Your story starts in the Hells' Own tavern. You say you can’t name the client you were meeting with?”
“A matter of confidentiality.” That, and wanting my head to remain atop my neck. I possessed no illusions about what Lord Montague would do if I revealed who I’d been meeting.
Finding out I’d revealed it to the Constabulary and the Empire’s most famed detective would probably just slow the process of removing my head.
“Understandable. I don’t think it’s of much importance to this case. The other infernal-blooded who was dead, do you know he is?”
I shrugged. “I think he said his name was Govlar? Gavlor? Golvar? Something along those lines. He accosted me in the alley. At first, I thought it was simply someone trying to mug me with a trick, but he was injured and asked for help. I did my best to patch up his wounds and was going to take him back to my apartment to stitch him up after stabilizing him. Then we were jumped along the way by the six others.”
“How altruistic of you to so willingly take another into your home to heal them.”
I gave him a sheepish grin. “I must admit altruism wasn’t on my mind. He claimed to be from a rather wealthy group and a rather large payment in return for being healed. I figured at the worst, I could hand him off to the Watch after and see if there was some kind of bounty on him.”
“You assumed he was a criminal?”
“People with knives practically spilling out of their pocket and a dozen holes in them don’t tend to be your average, law-abiding citizen, Mr. Voltar. Also, the tattoo was something of a giveaway.”
“Are you?”
“I’m sorry?”
“A law-abiding citizen. Would you consider yourself one of those?”
“As much as I can manage these days.” I thanked the Hells, the Heavens, and every little speck in between in the cosmic circle I wasn’t a moron like so many were and relied entirely on Sculpts or potions to do my acting and lying for me.
“A trying task for all in your environs, I’d imagine.”
My smile lessened a little, and that wasn’t just acting. “We do the best with what we are given, Mr. Voltar.”
“I didn’t mean to imply anything, Ms. Falara. Back to the matter of the dead Mr. Golvar, which is his name, did you know he is a member of the Versalicci gang?”
“I can’t deny that I did. He had the flaming ram right on his arm. But that only meant I’d more likely get something from helping him.”
“No issues with being paid by criminals?”
I did my best to look embarrassed. It wasn’t that hard, considering I actually was embarrassed over being dragged into this.
“A girl does have to eat, Mr. Voltar. And also rent apartments, buy clothes, and occasionally, when she has time, does other things as well for personal enjoyment. Until the gang caught up with us, I thought I would just be ensuring he didn’t succumb to his wounds.”
“A reasonable assumption to make.”
“Is this all, Mr. Voltar?” I asked. “Apologies, but I just have other errands I need to run today. I realize this is clearly a critical case to involve you, but I honestly can’t think of anything else worth telling you.”
It was a lie, but I wanted out of this and back home as quickly as I could manage. I did not care about Versalicci’s schemes to bedevil his longtime adversary, and the same was true in reverse. I wanted to head home, collect my commissions, and avoid both of them.
That polite smile replaced the thoughtful frown as soon as I finished talking. “But of course, Ms. Falara. Just two more questions, and I think I’ll have all the answers I need.”
“Ask away then, and I’ll again do my best to answer.”
“Thank you. You have remarkably good aim with that acid. Did you craft those vials yourself?”
“No. It honestly wasn’t that far a distance to throw them, Mr. Voltar. A dozen paces, maybe. I can get you in touch with the manufacturer if their design is somehow relevant?”
“No, it’s fine. The second question, has a Biosculptor modified you?”
My blood froze. Voltar suspected something. That wasn’t an idle question for no reason. The Watch hadn’t examined yet, so he couldn’t have known for sure. Yet he clearly did. And I couldn’t say no. The Watch had the facilities to check for Sculpts; they just took long lengths of time, time I thought too precious to them to spend on me.
My struggles to think of an answer to dodge weren’t leading anywhere.
Something roared in my veins, an urge building in my stomach. Bite the foolish human’s face off before he discovers anything. Gnawing hunger built inside, waiting for flesh to fulfill it and let it free.
I’d frozen my nerves and hurriedly focused on the detective's face instead. Outwit him, don’t bite him, and don’t feed what was currently trying to make it’s way out of my gut.
Diabolism. Reignited since I’d bitten into that human’s front. I could not let it have a scrap of power. As bad as revealing my Sculpting would be, doing any diabolism would result in my head being taken off my shoulders.
“I’ve had a few sculpts done recently. Trying to look better for my clients, cosmetic ones, to well…look more human for them. I had a small additional stomach added, linked to an extra pipe in my throat. I spat its contents at one of the gang members earlier today.”
“Those are all of them?” Voltar asked.
“The only ones currently installed in me, yes.” The nerve controls were mainly used for cosmetic purposes, so it was not technically a lie. That would be my claim if they did do the testing process. Curse the fact Sculpts were detectable. The rare shapechangers could adjust their bodies without a sign of detection, but Sculpture always leaves a mark; you just need to look deep enough.
He nodded. “Then I believe our interview is done. You are free to go.”
The Watchman sputtered as Voltar stood up. “What nonsense is this, Voltar? That is not your decision to make!”
Voltar had already left the room, and the Watchman followed after, leaving me alone in my room. Well, he certainly hadn’t changed a bit.
There was an argument going on the other side of the door. Heated but too low for me to make out words. I could guess what was being argued over. The Watch detective wanted me examined now, especially to see what would happen if my cosmetic Sculpts were reverted. Voltar was apparently arguing against that for reasons I couldn’t begin to guess.
I couldn’t wait for that conversation to finish. It was too high of a risk. Escaping the Coffin would be…tricky but better than waiting for potential doom. I shifted in my chair and tried to figure if I could slip out of these by dislocating my hand. It would be a tight fit.
The watch officer came back with two other members of the watch. “You’re free to go.”
“Excuse me?” I asked.
His expression, already stormy, quickly resembled a typhoon. “I said you’re free to leave. Haskell, Morris, free this one and get her out of here.”
Being escorted out of the Coffin felt like being in a waking dream. I nodded politely to Mr. Dawes and continued following the two officers through a small maze of corridors and rooms. They hadn’t adjusted the layout since I’d last been there. We collected my belongings along the way.
To my shock, they had not lifted a single pound. What strange malaise gripped the Watch these days?
“Miss Falara, please wait a moment?”
“Mr. Dawes?” I turned back to look at the anatomist.
“You wanted my signature?”
“Oh, yes. Thank you for reminding me. I forgot after the interview with Mr. Voltar.”
“He does have that effect on people at times,” Dawes remarked as I pulled out one of my field notebooks. He briefly read the first page. “You walk the Underground?”
“On occasion. The best ingredients require effort when coin is lacking.”
Partly a truth. My effort found some of the best ingredients. Grave robbing made up a good chunk of the rest.
“Maybe we’ll meet again, and you can tell me about it. I’ve only been briefly.”
“Maybe.”
Hopefully never. I’d had my fill of these two already. A swift exit to anywhere else might be in order.
The night sky greeted me outside. How long had I been inside, to lose this much time? No matter. What things I’d meant to get done today would keep 'til tomorrow.
“Do you want an escort home, Miss?”
“Hrrm?” One of my escorts had spoken up, orcish blood, much taller than my current body, very well-groomed. She also seemed quite earnest with that miss, so maybe the Watch was beginning to change. At the bare minimum, ‘Foulspawn’, ‘Devil’s Get’, and a few other ones I didn’t like even thinking seemed less frequent a word.
“Mr. Voltar said we were to escort you home by carriage if you wanted to, miss?” she asked.
“No, thank you. I’ll walk. The night sky is rather enjoyable to me.”
We both looked up at the layers of smog currently occupying the night sky and helping obscure the stars from sight.
“Well, on better nights, but I prefer to walk regardless.”
“Alone, on the streets?” The other watchmen observed. “Foulspawn ain’t likely to be seen kindly, and women on the street alone are never safe.”
Ah, there was what I’d expected, although he hadn’t seemed too vitriolic in tone. And bless her heart, his partner stared at him in a mixture of embarrassment and anger.
I spoke first before an argument could start. “I think I can handle myself, constable, although I do appreciate the concern. Do thank Mr. Voltar for his kindness if you could? It is much appreciated.”
“It” was most likely to pinpoint precisely where my dwelling was. The Watch probably had snuck on me while I was inside. I’d have to check all my possessions for tracers. And my coat and dress, which by now were both filthy. Dried blood, stains of something I didn’t want to identify. I’d take them to cleaners tomorrow but they were likely both ruined. I had bigger problems on my mind. Empire’s-greatest-detective shaped problems.
I was unsure if he knew I was Malvia, but he suspected something. I bid my goodbyes to the two watch officers and set out into the street. It was late in the evening, and as I made my way to the end of it, not a soul stirred.
No one being on the street didn’t change a thing; I was being followed.