With Jen’s sword pressed firmly to his neck, Callum led the little group to a trapdoor in the empty kitchen. Apparently the cook and servers had fled along with the patrons. That was just as well as Damien had no desire to have to look over his shoulder while they searched.

“Is there anything down there we need to worry about?” Damien asked.

“It’s just cold storage,” Callum said. “I never go down when they have their meetings.”

It appeared the tavern keeper had decided to be honest with them. Smart move on his part. “Let’s hope you’re right. You’ll be going down first.”

Jen gave Callum a poke with her sword. He opened the trapdoor revealing a set of steps leading down into a dark cellar.

“Somebody want to grab the lantern?” Callum pointed at a battered hurricane lantern sitting on a shelf nearby.

Damien conjured a handful of glowing orbs at the same time Marie-Bell caused the head of her hammer to glow. “I think we’ll manage without it. Move.”

The steps creaked under the keeper’s weight, but nothing broke. The cellar spread out around them, sides of meat hanging from hooks in the ceiling. Crates of vegetables were stacked high along one wall and kegs of ale lined the other. All in all Damien couldn’t have imagined a more mundane scene.

When they were all gathered in the basement Damien removed the prisoner’s gag and inserted the mental block to prevent lies. “Tell us all about it. Who you meet with and when would be a good start.”

“Go to hell, sorcerer.”

Damien shook his head. “That’s not helpful.”

“Let’s cut off one of his hands.” Jen brandished her sword. “That ought to loosen his tongue.”

“I’m okay with that.” Damien gestured and the prisoner’s arm rose from behind the chain and went rigid.

“Wait!” Marie-Bell waved her hands, making the shadows dance. “You can’t just torture him for information. It’s wrong.”

Damien glanced at Jen then back to the paladin. “Do you have an alternate method to get the information we need?”

“I…No, but it’s still wrong.”

“I appreciate your sense of morality,” Damien said. “But if he doesn’t talk we’re at a dead end.”

I could retrieve the information you need directly out of his mind.

Judging from Jen’s frown and Marie-Bell’s bright smile Lizzy had spoken to everyone. “Works for me. Sis?”

“I don’t care, as long as we find out what he knows.” Disappointment filled Jen’s voice. She’d clearly been looking forward to cutting a few chunks out of the uncooperative cultist.

Damien understood how she felt. This son of a bitch was the first person they’d encountered that they could tie to Dad’s murder, naturally she wanted him to suffer. Damien wanted the same thing, but he also didn’t want to alienate a potentially powerful ally.

“Okay, Lizzy, we’re counting on you.”

The prisoner stiffened and his face twisted into a grimace. Beads of sweat covered his forehead. He tried to thrash, but the bindings held him fast. A low moan escaped his lips and his face went slack.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

“What’s happening?” Marie-Bell asked.

“I’m not certain, but I think he’s trying to resist Lizzy’s psychic probe. Since he’s only an ordinary person he has no hope of blocking her. All he’s doing is causing himself unnecessary discomfort. Perhaps I should have explained that to him before she started.” Damien shared a smile with his sister.

Behind the third barrel from your left there’s a hidden compartment.

Jen went over, picked up the almost full barrel of ale like it weighed nothing, and set it aside. Damien sent several lights over before joining Jen. He trusted Marie-Bell to watch Callum, and the other guy, slumped in his bindings, a trickle of drool running down his chin, was clearly in no shape to wander off.

Jen felt around and a moment later something clicked. She pushed a small door in and to the side, revealing a slender compartment containing a ledger, several pouches, and a long narrow box. Jen grabbed the box. When she lifted it another click sounded before a blade snapped down from a hidden slot above the door. The blade clanged off her iron skin without cutting.

She ripped the blade free and tossed it aside. “Pathetic.”

“To you maybe, but I bet if old Callum had gotten curious he’d have wished he hadn’t.”

“You’d think demon cultists would have more impressive traps or maybe a guardian of some sort, like those lava monsters.” Jen stood up, the contents of the secret compartment in her hands.

“I can live with weak traps and no guardians. All I worry about is whether there’s anything valuable behind the meager defenses. There’s nothing else, is there, Lizzy?”

No. This one didn’t know about the trap or I would have warned you. He also doesn’t know the real names of his fellow cultists.

“Yeah, that would have been way too convenient.” Damien sighed. “Let’s go upstairs and see what we’ve found. Maybe have a drink. On the house, right, Callum?”

“Of course.” Callum offered a sour smile.

The prisoner still hadn’t come to when they walked back up the stairs to the kitchen and Damien had serious doubts about his mental state even if he did. He didn’t especially care as long as the surprisingly quiet Marie-Bell didn’t raise any complaints. They could hang the man regardless of whether or not his brain worked correctly.

Damien guided Callum to an empty chair and bound him there before collecting a bottle of red wine and three glasses. He checked for poison before filling the glasses and passing them out. Jen had spread everything over an empty table. She accepted her glass and took a swig before opening the box. Inside, a blackened silver dagger with a horned skull for a pommel rested in a bed of red velvet.

Marie-Bell slammed the lid shut. “That thing reeks of evil.”

Damien nodded and took one of the pouches. “Sacrificial dagger. Probably quenched in demon blood judging by the color. Nasty. I’ll deal with it permanently before we leave.”

The paladin stared at him as though in shock.

“What?”

“You both accept everything so matter-of-factly. It seems like you should be more outraged.”

“If I got outraged by every evil thing I’ve seen over the last year I wouldn’t be able to think straight. Don’t worry, we get plenty outraged at the really bad stuff, right, sis?”

Jen thumbed through the ledger and didn’t seem interested in their conversation. Damien shrugged. “Anyway, take my word for it, we’ll be outraged at the proper time. And when we do feel free to join in.”

Marie-Bell’s cheeks dimpled when she smiled. “You’re much nicer than I first thought.”

Damien grinned back. “Don’t tell anyone.”

He dumped the pouch over and a gray crystal bird clattered out onto the table’s surface. Damien focused on it. Some sort of sorcery swirled in the depths of the crystal, but he couldn’t say exactly what it did.

He moved on to the second pouch. It didn’t weigh nearly as much as the first. Damien tipped it out. Dozens of small strips of paper tumbled down. Marie-Bell grabbed one and smoothed it out. “It’s a date and time.”

Damien tossed the one he’d been reading on the table. “This one too.”

Ten minutes later they’d checked them all and found they all held dates and times. Damien frowned. What was the point of saving such useless information? All the dates had come and gone.

“Hand me one of those.” Jen reached out and Damien gave her one of the strips.

She paged through the ledger, paused and ran her finger down the column. “They’re a code. When you compare the numbers in the date and time with the columns in the ledger it gives a location. What do you want to bet these all lead to other meeting places?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised, but why would they leave something like this just lying around for someone to find?”

“It wasn’t that big a risk,” Jen said. “We never would have caught the cultist without Marie-Bell, and we never would have gotten the truth without you and Lizzy. What are the odds of this particular combination of people arriving here at this time?”

“Good point.” Damien yawned. “What do you say we finish decoding these messages, turn these two over to whoever runs this town, and go check out those other locations?”