Infernal Investigations

Well, this was a conundrum.

My metal-thread-wearing intruder was moving into the warehouse with a lantern in hand. Given the organization of the shelves from the route he was taking, I could either leave now or stay and see if I could get some answers out of him.

I crept around the corner, following behind him, far enough back that a sudden turnaround wouldn’t immediately spot me. Unfortunately, it meant I couldn’t make out many details about him, not helped by him holding the only source of light in front of him.

The back of his head was in the dark, but it felt like something was weird about it. After a few seconds, I shook my head. Focus on the here and now, Malvia!

Metal threads moved to the hidden trapdoor, staring down at it. Perhaps he thought I was still down there? He pressed a bit of the floor, and the trapdoor rose, revealing the violet flames in the secret room as burning alchemical substances fed an unreal fire.

He reeled back from the wave of heat, slamming the trapdoor shut.

I emerged from the shelves, flintlock trained on his head.

“Well, if it isn’t he of the metal threads. Turn around slowly if you can. No sudden movements unless you enjoy new holes put in you.”

He turned slowly, a thin, reedy face looking at me with an exasperated expression. He stared down at me only a little, perhaps a few inches taller than me.

“Metal threads?” He asked incredulously. “Tis an improper name for one such as myself.”

“It’s not like you left me a name to call you,” I replied, keeping the gun trained on him. Had he been following me, or was this his warehouse? Would he be going through it in the middle of the night if it was his warehouse?

“Josiah Hawkens,” he replied indignantly.

“I’ll take your word for it. Katheryn Falara,” I said flippantly. That could not be his actual name.

He said nothing, glaring at me as if I’d wilt under his gaze. His hands were on something underneath his coat, but it didn’t look like a pistol. A cane, perhaps?

He withdrew a cane and, in a single swift motion, pulled on the handle, pulling a rapier’s blade out of the cane.

“Your name does not matter, for tonight you shall pay for the perfidy you visited upon me. I shall avenge my failure of the night before.”

He followed that proclamation with a flourish of the rapier, which glinted in the lantern light as if on command.

I cocked my head to the side. “Did you hit your head when I shoved you inside my closet? Because you definitely did not talk like this when you tried robbing me.”

“Is it robbery when one takes from a thief?” He asked. “Or when one does it for a just cause?”

“Pretty sure there’s plenty of people the courts have sentenced with more defined sob stories. Unless you want to elaborate on why your cause is so just?”

Hawken’s sneered at me, flourishing the rapier again as he moved close to me. The damn thing glinted again, a shimmer of light traveling down its length. Had he enchanted the damn thing? Fucking nobles.

“Explanations are for peers, not for those beneath me, which you do not count as, Malvia Harrow.”

I blinked, then lazily grinned at him. “Oh, that was exactly the wrong name to say.”

He sneered, then opened his mouth to say something else.

I moved the flintlock down, aiming for his leg. Whatever he would say died in his throat as he lunged towards me with the rapier.

I was faster.

The bullet shot into his knee, the leg folding as he collapsed to the ground, blood and meat spraying out the other side. He went down with a yelp, hands going over the bullet wound.

“You’re lucky, don’t you know?” I asked. “I need answers. Otherwise, bits of your brain would be scattered on the floor instead of your knee. Mind you, that can change if you don’t drop the rapier.”

“You shot me!” Hakwen whined. “Do you know how much these pants cost? This is the second time I’ll need them replaced, you brute!”

“Maybe you and your friends shouldn’t have wrecked my lab, my apartment, and my life,” I snapped back, reloading the flintlock with a pre-prepared powder package. “Drop the rapier. Last warning.”

Hawkens dropped the rapier, eyes glaring at me as he got into a position resembling sitting down.

“You should tie off a tourniquet above your knee,” I suggested. “I aimed a bit to the side, but no reason to risk bleeding out from an artery.”

Hawkens stayed still, apparently planning on defying me by bleeding to death.

“Very well, not my life that’s at risk,” I said. “Well then, Mr. Hawkens, my first question is, what the hell were you doing trying to rob me in my lab?”

He snorted. “You must have me mixed up with one of those low-lives you assuredly deal with. Young lady, I have never met you before in my life.”

I sighed. “Yes, because my life has room for more than one person with precious metals threaded in their clothing. Who also has a box stolen from me in their possession. And who also resembles a certain person who gave a tip to Mr. Halmon of Halmon’s Alchemical Solutions on the location of a recently deceased and poorly guarded wyvern. Excuse me if I don’t accept your suggestion as fact. Do you care to revise anything you’ve said?”

He remained steadfastly quiet, and I sighed.

“Mr. Hawkens, I don’t have all night, and frankly, whatever web you’ve chosen to weave around me has worn my patience very thin, so if you continue to lean on it-”

Hakwens sprang from the ground with none of the awkwardness demanded from his position or having a fucking bullet wound in his knee. One hand snatched his rapier, the other reaching out to grab me.

I pulled the trigger on the flintlock.

The bullet went right between his eyes, blood and gore exploding out of the back end as the bullet exited.

He kept on coming, and I flung myself to the side.

Hawkens came to a complete halt and pivoted, the rapier’s blade smacking into my hand. Pain jolted up my forearm, but I kept ahold of my saber.

I didn’t bother trying to strike back, running for the window. If whatever Hawkens was could take a bullet between the eyes, I wouldn’t waste time trying to sword fight him.

Coward, rot him to waste!

Yeah, I was not doing that either. I leapt, channeling Diabolism. The wood holding the window together was already dead, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t rot or decay further.

The entire window fell apart, wood decaying while glass simply fell. I went through the open space, rolling as I landed on the far side.

My shoulder hit the cobbles, and I cursed as pain burst across it. Too far out of practice for this, I still reached my feet within moments, running. Behind me, the warehouse groaned, the spell still working on parts of the warehouse before fading out.

Honestly, it’s not the worst that could have happened from using Diabolism. Relatively benign. As opposed to the ends of my arms, where veins cut paths of fire burning through me. I kept moving, biting my tongue to prevent a scream as it spread up my arm.

I’d drawn too much diabolism in too short a time through a body I’d sculpted to have as hard a time as I could make channeling magic. Without reverting or using my tools, it wouldn’t handle any more of it well.

And the rot was the simplest of tricks. Doing anything trickier would do far worse to my body.

I got to my feet, running. Forget interrogating Hawkens; the papers in my bag would illuminate these events by themselves. Instead, it was time to retreat and hole up for the evening.

I was halfway down the length of the warehouse when I saw Hakens burst out of a window further down. I turned, avoided sliding on the cobbles, and started heading the other way.

Damnations. How could he even stand? He hadn’t swallowed a potion, and the bullet had gone through straight between his eyes! Was he a mage? I doubted anyone with something as rare as a healing talent would be skulking around here at night, which left priests.

I turned around, barely avoiding tripping as I ran the other way. I could hear shoes on cobbles behind me, and just when I was about to round the corner, something flew beneath my legs.

As I shut my eyes, my head met cobbles in a collision of flesh and stone. Everything hurt, from my chin to the base of my horns, which ached. At least they hadn’t broken from the impact.

Tangled up with my feet was the cane sheath Hawkens had kept his rapier inside, and I hurriedly turned over as Hawkens stalked closer.

Hawken sneered down at me, bending over slightly to stare me in the eyes. He looked taller, the well-fitting suit from before stretching across him, a foot of calf visible from pant leg to the shoe. One hand still grasped his rapier.

“Surprised, creature of diabolism? Let this mystery be the last thing your mind puzzles before you-”

I lashed out with a hoof, hitting Hawkens right on the nose. Something crunched underneath, and he reeled back, screaming.

I took advantage of the momentary distraction to cut with my saber. It bit into his wrist, but he still wouldn’t release the rapier.

He blinked tears out of his eyes, recovering fast from the blow. Whatever magic had healed the gunshot, it worked fast on his nose, resetting it with a painful crack. I had little time.

I headbutt Hawkens, driving my hardened forehead and my horns right into his face. It wouldn’t be as effective as it had been as Malvia, but it still sent him reeling, his nose broken once again.

Mind you, I could hear the bone crunching as it reset itself.

I charged him, horns smashing into the underside of his head as a hand grasped one of his arms. It took just a moment of contact for the power to well even as it scorched my veins, then traveled into Hawken’s arm.

He didn’t yell, kicking me back even as skin rotted away, flesh stripping itself from bone as it ate its way up his arm. Hawkens spared just a glance at it, and then suddenly, the arm fell off at the shoulder while the rot was still at his elbow.

He didn’t bleed, didn’t scream. There was nothing there but seamless flesh.

The rapier jabbed at me, and I parried it once, twice, then the third time, it slipped through, punching into my shoulder. I shrieked, trying to grasp Hawken’s hand with my free one, calling power again.

He pulled back in a single motion, expression confident. Where his arm had detached, new flesh was growing, bones forcing its way out and flesh pushing out to join it. The old one finished rotting on the ground, bone, patches of skin, and lumps of flesh.

Too slow. I had another trick. One that I didn’t even need the imp to warn me would cost me dearly.

I lunged forward, taking the rapier point through my saber-wielding arm, the pain as the blade scraped along the bone only a hint of what was to come as my free hand grasped Hawken’s face.

“Burn,” I hissed even as my fingers burst, blood turning caustic and eating its way out of my flesh.

His head burst alight, black flames forming on the surface of his skin. He shrieked, a sound that drove pinpoints of pain into my ears as he flailed. Skin charred, flesh underneath crackling as it spread across skin even as I pulled back, a scream bursting from my throat.

My fingers poured blood, veins pumping out the paths eaten through my flesh.

Hawkens stopped shrieking, still burning but running my way. I had seconds.

I fixed my gaze on him, willing energy once more. Diabolism leaped once more out of the nearest conduit. Hawken’s burning flesh rotted as well, and in return, my right eye boiled.

I screamed, my hands reflexively going to it even as Hawken’s collapsed into a shrieking mess, Diabolism eating at the wailing mess of flesh in two different ways.

Whimpering, I fell onto the ground, eyelid shutting, hands clasping over my eye as it continued to cook inside the socket. Even so, it leaked out, falling onto the ground as the socket still burned.

I lay there as that burning faded from excruciating to agonizing. It took three attempts to get up, my limbs collapsing. After the first attempt, I tore some cloth off my shirt, wrapping it around my fingers. I got another strip over my now empty socket, stopping the agony of the breeze. The bleeding stopped, cut short by searing the veins closed with more diabolism. The Imp crooned in my ears, telling me to re-earn my strength by eating Hawkens.

I didn’t even have the energy to tell it no as I forced myself onto unsteady hooves, stumbling towards the rotted and burnt remains of Hawkens.

Everything hurt, especially the exposed inside of the socket. I ignored the little splash of white on the ground even as my nerves continued to burn and my gait was unsteady. The world felt smaller, my window into it shrunken as I forced myself to focus on what was left of my opponent. Tears wouldn’t stop pouring from my other eye.

The rotted and roasted remains still moved, as what remained of his limbs wriggled, skin stretching back over as flesh reformed. Flames still licked at the flesh, but what it consumed continued to grow back—much more slowly than before, which might mean he was near his limits.

My saber cut three times, earning nothing but groans as I severed chunks of the flesh. Hawken’s movements did not stop, and I couldn’t risk waiting longer, so instead, I gathered one of the severed chunks, collecting a small sample into a vial. Somehow, my hip flask remained secure, the vials inside undamaged in their straw packaging. The bags had come loose during that, and I grabbed them both.

By then, hands were forming across Hawken’s flesh, over a dozen. Stubby fingers poked out of charred flesh, wriggling as they pushed their way out. Shuddering, I turned my back on Hawkens and moved away, hoping to find a place to lick my wounds. Quickly.

***

I couldn’t tell where I was.

I had gone stumbling off, barely aware of the outside world as pain ate at me, and eventually, exhaustion forced me to break into another warehouse. It hadn’t been subtle. I’d need to leave before dawn when they’d come and find me nestled in a corner, a stolen blanket drawn up around me.

Someone else had come in. I’d heard the door swinging open. I’d debated running, but decided against it. If it was Hawkens, freshly healed, I put my odds low. If it was someone not connected to this, I’d beg for their charity. Anyone else, and well…my options were there. Somewhat.

They came into sight, the both of them. One of them was almost eager, the other as cautious as their partner was enthusiastic. They both had revolvers trained on me as soon as I came into sight.

I grinned as they halted outside of easy lunging distance. “Mr. Voltar, Mr. Dawes. A pleasure to see you both!”