After I’d finished emptying the contents of my stomach all over poor Doctor Dawes’ shoes, they’d settled me down at the tea table. Voltar had cleaned it up and returned, while Dr. Dawes poured us all some tea.

I hadn’t tasted it yet, my fingers gripping the handle in a death grip as my gaze darted between the two. My head pounded, and it felt like the chair I was sitting in was swaying back and forth.

If this was the worst, could I escape? I felt like just getting out of the chair would end me, and I hadn’t even tried reaching for diabolism since I’d woken up. My reserves must be still quite empty. And the Imp was quiet, which I’d be thankful for except for the sense of foreboding accompanying the silence inside my skull.

Voltar seemed content to let me speak first, merely continuing to browse the newspaper. Dawes had settled in at his side, pouring a cup for himself while I nervously nursed one of my own.

They’d at least drawn the lights and lit only a few candles, so their light didn’t add too much to the pounding in my head. It also made it much more difficult to read both of their faces. And that feeling of a chisel being taken to my brain was only slightly alleviated.

I finally worked up the carriage to say something.

“How was your time out of the city, Mr. Voltar?”

Someone, please shoot me. Yes, engage in small talk related to some task Intelligence has required of him, Malvia. Brilliant.

Voltar put down the newspaper, considering the question.

“Overall poorly. While I did what was asked, it was not a pleasant experience. I don’t think I can be much more specific than that without talking to a few people first. The experience was not improved by various messages in my head from a mutual acquaintance of ours, among other things, telling me you had been made my apprentice.”

“I protested that,” I blurted out. “Very strenuously.”

“By kicking who you thought was me in a very uncomfortable place,” Voltar noted. “I’ve talked to Doctor Dawes about the events of the last few weeks. I would have talked to Tagashin, but she has disappeared and can resist the mental urge to return to the house for a few more hours. She’s likely trying to charter a train out of the city. She’ll make it to the outskirt, at which point the fenceposts will lead to her being sent hurtling out of that train back into the city.”

I cocked my head.

“Fenceposts? You managed to pen a Kitsuné in?”

Not impossible, from what I could recall, but well beyond the capabilities of most individual mages.

“Imperial Intelligence has her penned in,” Voltar corrected me. “I handle very little of that part of Tagashin’s sentence. I’m just who she is currently serving that sentence with.”

“Is my situation similar, or is it different?” I asked, glancing between the two of them.

“Dr. Dawes manages most of Intelligence’s handling of me, Tagashin, and any others who fall into that category,” Voltar said firmly. “I desire to have very little to do with it. I did ask that someone from the organization be here for this conversation, but it seems the feeling is mutual for right now.”

Dawes looked distinctly uncomfortable while I tried dissecting that in my head. So, did Voltar and the primary point of contact for Imperial Intelligence not get along? And Voltar seemingly enough pull for that not to be an issue?

Every little scrap I was fed on about how this worked only made it seem more complicated.

“Have they made their opinion on me known?” I asked, eyes flicking between the two of them.

Voltar remained a well-mannered, polite stone in his bearing while Dawes relaxed just a smidgen.

“There is not really any talk of handing you over to the Watch or anything of that nature, Miss Harrow,” Doctor Dawes said.

I sighed, a great weight off my shoulders with that statement. I wasn’t destined to some cell in the Coffin.

“Mind you, if you disappoint Imperial Intelligence, the fate is much worse than what the Watch can inflict.”

And there it was on my shoulders once again.

“Is that what this conversation is about?” I asked.

Voltar snorted. “Maybe if someone officially part of the organization was here. No, this is about what will happen regarding what Tagashin has said after this current mess is resolved.”

“Maybe that should take priority?” I suggested.

“It seems well in hand,” Voltar noted. “Your methods of reaching where you stand are far more chaotic than I would prefer, but you seem to be progressing at an adequate pace.”

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‘Adequate’. Such a grand compliment. Almost enough to make a girl blush.

“I’d argue circumstance forced chaos,” I said with gritted teeth. “Far more than any method I decided to employ.”

“Willingly? No, that would be Tagashin’s choice,” Voltar said. “You should learn how to not be swept up in situations. But that is a discussion for another time. Perhaps never. Are you sure you don’t want your tea? You’ve been practically strangling that poor cup this entire time.”

My eyes flicked down to the cup and the few splatters of tea on the tablecloth next to me.

I slowly brought the cup to my lips and sipped, closing my eyes. Oh, that was unusual but familiar, and it tasted like warmth and comfort in grassy, nutty overtones being poured into my mouth. It felt like-

My eyes snapped open, staring right at Voltar.

“How did you know what kind of tea I drank as a child?” I asked with slow deliberateness.

“I’ve shared tea with your grandfather a few times in the past,” Voltar said. “He had a few specific blends he preferred, and I doubted his family would be encouraged to drink any other kind.”

That was quite accurate, as I slowly set the cup down.

“You ruined tea,” I muttered. “Why does everyone have to ruin tea? Can’t I just have tea in peace?” A random thought occurred to me about the topic of tea being ruined. “You put nothing in this, did you?”

“No,” Voltar answered evenly. “Unnecessary. But to go back to our earlier topic, this conversation will not decide if Intelligence will throw you to the wolves. They don’t have enough Diabolists that they’ll turn any down, especially one with such potential. No, this conversation will decide if I’m willing to have you work with me in the future.”

“Implying that Tagashin is more tolerable than I am?” I asked.

“She’s harmless,” Voltar said. “Her tendency to needle and cause major scandals aside, I’m not worried about her shooting someone in the head or deciding the best way to get an answer is threatening to bite someone’s fingers off.”

“I wouldn’t have actually bitten him,” I muttered. How had he even found out? “I just needed his cooperation in a hurry. Torture is a poor tool for getting answers, anyway.”

“I am very relieved your reluctance to use torture is entirely based on how efficient it is,” Voltar told me. “That doesn’t give me much confidence about you not using it for other purposes. Let me be clear, Miss Harrow. We rarely met in person when I was meddling in your brother’s affairs, but I’m more than familiar with acts associated with you. They do not leave a good impression.”

“And does leaving my brother also not leave a good impression?” I snapped, putting the teacup down. “I left, stayed away, did not practice diabolism, hardly did anything illegal for five years. I made it hurt myself to practice diabolism, and if it wasn’t for this mess, would still be there.”

Voltar paused, then sighed.

“Miss Harrow,” he said steadily. “Let me be clear. This is not an interrogation, or a castigation necessarily. At worst, I decide we are not a good fit for working together.”

“She’s also not at her best,” Dawes said. “I told you this should wait till she healed.”

“If she is impossible to work with at her worst, her best is irrelevant,” Voltar replied to him before turning his attention back towards me. “Is that clear enough?”

He..he was right. Snapping at him would not serve any purpose, as tempting as it was to spit bile. The pounding on the inside of my skull made that tempting, but it would cause things being worse for me. I nodded.

“I’m willing to abide by any rules set for me,” I said.

“You want to work with me, then?” Voltar asked. “Because frankly, you can head off on your own and Intelligence can fit you in with one of their other small groups across the city.”

That…hrrm. That was also true. And a fair point. A start not exactly free of my baggage, but close enough? Still, it didn’t feel right.

“I’d rather stick here,” I said. “Here is familiar enough. If possible.”

“She gets along well with Tagashin,” Dawes offered.

I had been finally taking another sip of my tea when he said that. Hot tea spraying across the table, I sputtered.

“Excuse me? Get along with her?”

“Comparatively well,” Dawes clarified. “You get along better than some others she’s worked with alongside us in the past.”

I didn’t believe that at all, but moving past it.

“I’m willing to accept whatever rules you wish of me,” I said.

“Including dropping your practice of Diabolism?” Voltar asked.

I paused and waited. The Imp did not speak.

“Your passenger is asleep,” Voltar told me. “I don’t know the specifics, but Dawes has theories about which parts of your cognition it utilizes. It will not hear your answer.”

“I stopped using it once,” I said. “I can do it again.”

“Perhaps not with the entire bit of melting your body down for fuel if you do,” Dawes commented.

“Some things require extreme measures to end,” I replied. “Is that satisfactory?”

Voltar nodded slightly. “For now. Apprentice is too much, but I will use you as a consultant on cases till I come to a further answer. At least to the end of two more after this one. Also, may I ask a question of you?”

“Works for me, and sure.”

“When was the last time you talked to Giovanni Versalicci?” Voltar asked.

“Shortly before Lord Montague’s party, which was not my idea,” I said. “Before then? Shortly before I faked my death.”

“Hrrm. Anything of interest?”

I paused, thinking back. It had been ages since I’d considered that conversation.

“Not really,” I said. “He never opened up to any of us fully, so in hindsight, his talk of taking as many of you with him as some final glorious strike on behalf of Infernal-kin was likely just lies. He kept on claiming he had a ritual to bring forth our father, but that is also unlikely.”

“Hrrm, from my understandings of your arts, I concur. Very little contact since?”

“Direct? No. Indirect, I am having some thoughts on. Can I ask a question?”

“Certainly.”

“Have we actually met before now?”

“We have talked twice, briefly. The last time we met was in your apartment when I wanted you to test a vial of Angel’s Sorrow. And see if you would use the Diabolic arts on me afterward.”

I nodded. I couldn’t say for sure if that was when Tagashin’s less than stellar impersonation had begun, carried only by glamour. It felt like a truth, though.

“So,” I said slowly, taking another sip of tea. It helped calm that pounding inside my head just a tad. “What do we do next?”

“You rest,” Voltar informed me. “I have someone coming in the morning to inspect inside your head. No insult intended doctor, I have full confidence in your skills, but-”

“I cannot look inside people’s skulls,” Dawes finished for him. “No worries. But I do share Miss Harrow’s curiosity. What comes next?”

“Well, for right now the Watch has a bishop to handle, we must resolve the unfortunate alchemist you’ve taken away from them, and I must go track down a fox,” Voltar said. “But after? I want to invite Lord Montague and Lady Karsin over for tea.”