Infernal Investigations

Kill? Kill.

The lord of the manor was currently stomping his way halfway up the stairs, face red, mustaches vibrating as they had during our initial negotiations.

“It’s bad enough you bring a Hellspawn into our house,” he yelled, and now every eye in the party was locked on the two of us only an inch away from each other. “Now you decide to do unholy acts with her inside my house?!”

With feigned embarrassment, I let go of Gregory, pulling back and trying to look in any direction that did not have an onlooker.

I failed, my gaze eventually settling on Voltar and Dawes in the middle of a knot of guests. They’d probably been listening to some account or another of the pair’s adventure before…this.

Voltar winked at me, and I was suddenly struck by a wish for the probable shapechangers in the band to start changing now. Maybe kill a few guests. Anything.

Lord Montague was still ranting at Gregory, who was looking down at his father with an easy grin. His lordship had made it near the top of the stairs and, realizing from the silence that nearly everyone could hear him, had lowered his volume to merely loud.

“-embarrassment enough. I told you not to ruin this event.”

The look from father to son was pure venom, more akin to looks I’d seen from those outside the Quarter for daring to be out of it. It made me wonder again how light that banter between them actually was.

“Lord Montague,” I said quietly but firmly. “This was not your son’s idea.”

Now, that gaze of venom was swung my way, but I refused to wilt under it. Perhaps his lordship saw too much of the mask.

“I don’t care whose idea it was. I said not to ruin my event and my son publicly making out with you-”

“Would have sparked rumors and nothing more,” I said. “A few people would have seen us, perhaps made some snide jokes at your expense, and it would have been overshadowed by your surprise invite of the Empire’s greatest detective until you ascended the staircase, yelling at us and making everyone very aware of what was going on up here.”

Being told off didn’t precisely cool down Lord Montague, but perhaps not wanting to make even more of a spectacle kept him from blowing his lid.

Every eye was still on us, and the noise of conversation down below was probably about what had us arguing with each other. I was keeping my own tone cool and my expression innocent, which may or may not be helping in dealing with the noble.

His next statement dripped with poison but was at a conversational volume.

“I did not invite you here so you could make out with my son,” he hissed.

“And I did not come up here just to make out with your son,” I replied back. “I noticed several potential holes in security. I wanted to discuss them with him, so we came here to discuss them so your guests wouldn’t overhear. Speaking of which, does that band live on your estate?”

The rest of the servants, supposedly, lived on the ‘estate’, which wasn’t the manor itself but the surrounding buildings in the area. Lord Montague owned much of this square; part of that was servant’s quarters. The little closed-off community was the closest thing to the security we had regarding infiltration before the party.

The sudden question seemed to cut off Lord Montague’s next statement, taking the wind out of his sails. “They are from outside, but it was either this or the guests wonder why there was no musical accompaniment for the evening. This is a ball, Foulhorn. I’m not going to tip off these shapechangers in any way.”

I held my tongue. “Whatever you deem best, your lordship. It is your event.”

No use arguing what I suspected to be a lost cause. Giving me a suspicious look, Lord Montague began down the stairs. The other guests were beginning to take their attention somewhere else now that the show was over. Beginning to. Many still stared. Outright revulsions, amused bemusement, confusion, a range of emotions none of which I wanted to see.

At least half still stared up here as if expecting Gregory and me to immediately resume where we’d left off now that Lord Montague’s back was turned.

“We should stay up here a while longer. It won’t look suspicious if we stay up a while fearing Father’s wrath.”

I nodded mutely, considering the party down below. “There are a few other things I want to discuss. We should probably stay within sight, though. However, I should get off this railing. Lip readers.”

“A more common pastime than one would expect,” Gregory said. “There is a bench back there. Sitting down, people would still be able to see us.”

I eyeballed it and silently agreed. We both walked over, sitting down a few inches apart from each other.

“We shouldn’t tarry too long, but if anyone happens to glance up? I think one of us comforting the other after our little tryst being exposed like that might be in order?”

Tryst implied much more than had become close to happening, but I didn’t correct him. My lips quirked.

“You just want to find out what you just missed,” I accused.

“Not entirely wrong, but no. Do you mind leaning forward some?”

I eyed Gregory, who simply smiled, eyes innocent. Too often, that meant a plot with me as the loser, but he wouldn’t risk too much. Anything too far, and I’d kill him before his father even got the chance.

Sometime later, not as Danielle Waters. And not literally. I'd...think of something.

I leaned forward, trying to rest my elbows on my knees and my chin on my clasped hands.

His hands touched my bare shoulders, and I tensed up at the warmth.

I…he was touching my skin. In public. At a party. In front of the nobility. What was he thinking?

“Relax,” he told me. “You ask me to stop at any point, and I will. If I don’t, I’m pretty sure you can make me pay for it. So relax. It’ll feel better.”

I nodded, then breathed slowly. Eventually, my shoulders relaxed, and he began to knead.

This was insanity. We’d just caused a massive fuss by nearly locking lips, and now he had his hands on my bare back. Smooth skin pressed against mine, in full view of anyone who bothered to strain just enough to see. Maybe because he was a noble and I was a common-born Infernal this wouldn’t be seen as bad? Not the same as nobles courting, so more acceptable? Is that what he saw it as?

His fingers moved in circles, working on a spot and then traveling, and each time, it felt like that part of me had turned liquid. I breathed out. Something that had been tense and unyielding for so long was finally given a chance to let go.

“Are massages part of what clerics of Tarver are taught?” I whispered, trying to let the tension ease out of me as his hands worked.

“No, but some things you pick up in learning about others,” Gregory said.

Small bits of pain spiked across my back but quickly faded as he kneaded. It felt like anything he put his hands on unraveled after he worked on it.

I kept my head low, not looking up. My body was beginning to feel so loose, but my mind was feeling anything but. Were people staring? Were they judging? Seeing the Infernal so easily turning into putty in a noble’s hand?

A new thought entered as his fingers traveled lower, going across my shoulder blades.

Did it matter?

My tail wrapped around the wrist of his right hand, insistently pulling it lower. There was a knot on my lower back, just beyond the edge of the fabric.

“I heard a rumor that these have minds of their own,” Gregory said as he let his hand get pulled to that spot. “Any truth to that?”

“Some,” I answered as the sensation of relief traveled. “Depends on how much responsibility we want to claim over them at that moment.”

“Do you want to lie down? Face down, head over the side of the bench? It’ll make it easier for both of us.”

An agreement almost passed through my throat before I had a chance to think.

“That’ll take me out of people’s sight and the position is perhaps a little compromising.”

“I doubt anyone is going to think that after Father chewing us out,” he said. “But we can just stay like this if you want.”

I considered it for half a second, then began to move on the couch. He got off, giving me space as I lay across it, before kneeling down beside my prone form.

He traveled down from my shoulders to the extent of my bare skin. The dress left practically the entire half of my upper back open, and he worked on making every bit of tension there disappear.

A couple of minutes passed as my upper back turned to liquid, putty in his hand. I let myself lie there, slowly lulling off, but I forced myself to stay awake.

“We should probably discuss business,” I said, beginning to rise.

“There’s no reason we can’t do both,” Gregory said, hands continuing to massage my back.

Yes there was, which is that he was being terribly distracting when he did that.

“Best to have our minds fully focused,” I said. “But thank you.”

We went back to the railing, and this time, no one stared at us. A few idle glances but it seemed our time in the spotlight had faded.

No one had been staring at us to begin with. The little massage session had gone unnoticed.

Already, partygoers were either in their own cliques or forming around one of three groups: the Xangs, Voltar, or Lady Karsin.

Two of those were easily explained. My family’s connections to Her Majesty’s group of allies to overthrow Her Most Profane Majesty, and Voltar’s sleuthing adventures. Lady Karsin was the special guest of honor, so anyone wanting to curry favor with Lord Montague would consider her an in-road.

Something caught my eye, or rather, the lack of something except for the two at the entrance.

“I’m surprised there are fewer guards in sight,” I murmured. “I know your father wouldn’t want to scare any guests off, but where are they?”

“Most of them are distributed among the outer rooms,” Gregory said. “That room you and I talked in? Calab and two others are in there throughout the entire night.”

“He has enough guards to cover all of them?” I asked.

“When the archives are sealed, and he can’t move the people guarding that? Yes.”

I didn’t pry any further. Not about the archives, at least.

“How long ago was that arranged?”

“A few days. You suspect something?”

“Something changed from then till now,” I muttered. “He’s not worried anymore. Not about the shape-changers. He called this event off, had to be talked into starting it anew by Voltar, and then something made him decide to tear down his security. Has your father been alone since I and Voltar visited?”

Gregory subtly stiffened next to me, and his expression turned pensive. I couldn’t resist anymore. I lightly nudged him with my elbow.

“What?” He said.

“Please control your expression more. People are watching. But on topic, your father?”

“There’s when he’s in bed, but if they’ve changed her as well,” Gregory said, expression growing grim as he looked at his stepmother.

I nudged him again. “Don’t travel too far down that road. You’ll drive yourself insane with the possibilities. Let’s take from that we can be reasonably sure he isn’t one.”

Gregory sighed, taking his gaze off his parents and looking at me instead.

“We should rejoin the party,” Gregory said. “I think we’ve done sufficient penance up here, and people will start to talk if we don’t return.”

I didn’t want to go down, but he was right. There was only so much to observe from up here, and it would look suspicious after a while. I moved back, only for Gregory to stay on the railing.

“What?” I asked, cocking my head to the side.

“You know, eventually, this is going to be over. Not the party, but this business with shapechangers, poisonings, and mysteries.”

Oh. He was talking about…this. Telling me not to get my hopes up?

“It will be,” I said carefully. “All things do come to an end, or so they say.”

“Yes, well. At the end, I just wanted to let you know my door is open. And my window, if you prefer doing it that way.”

My breath stilled as I looked into those far too innocent-seeming eyes. How much should I read into that? How much could I read into that?

He was, I realized, waiting for an answer.

“I might wander in,” I said, trying not to turn beet-red. “From time to time.”

"About all I could ask for,” he said, then offered me his arm. “Miss Harrow?”

I accepted his arm, and we descended back to the party while I tried to sort through what had just been said.

This was beyond just teasing and mild flirting. I’d arguably initiated that almost-kiss, but what happened after had been him.

Was I just a girl of the week? Something exotic to pursue with a personal connection that he might feel pity for? Something else?

My tail, to my horror, was trying to reach and wrap around his arm. I forced the traitor limb back behind me, not deviating a centimeter closer to him.

To our right, the band was still playing, and I eyed them all in a single glance. They appeared normal.

“Can’t you look at them on the astral?” Gregory murmured.

"If I could do that, this would have been solved far before now,” I replied just as quietly. “Things on different planes like the celestial may be straightforward, but the arcane is all metaphors and symbolism at the best of times. At the worst of times, it’s utter nonsense.”

At least for people who existed in the material. When dealing with spirits, spells, and other things of magic you could tell what you were looking at most of the time.

“Or maybe that’s just your interpretation,” Gregory said. “Maybe you just don’t have the right mindset.”

“How about you explain why you were a giant sunflower then?”

“My sunny disposition?”

Most of the guests were keeping a decent distance from us, although we were getting plenty of glances. Mostly scandalized looks, which I did my best to ignore.

“And just when I thought my reputation couldn’t sink lower,” Gregory mused as his own gaze looked upon those keeping a careful distance from us.

“Sorry about that,” I muttered.

“I’m joking,” he told me. “I’ve done it before. I’ll do it again.”

“I’d wager not with an Infernal, though,” I replied.

“You’re half-right,” he said. “Incoming.”

My mask went back on. The approaching group was a cavalcade of noble youths my age or younger, most of them already acquainted. They were their own little knot, being stared at with disgust by most of those in attendance. They seemed to be a rowdy bunch. Oh, and half of them had fake horns. Some of them had fake wings. A couple had fake tails. Red-dyed hair.

If they weren’t indulging in some moronic dragon costumes, I was stuck once again on the side of nobles who stared at me with even more venom.

The ringleader, Kalrivers, a young man with black hair cut nearly to his scalp, did not. But that easygoing grin and the way his gaze fixed on me made me feel even less safe.

The topic of conversation was predictable.

“It’s been nearly two weeks without some stunt by you, Greg,” Kalrivers said. “Have to say, it’s a bit dull by your standards. We were expecting something more grand.”

“Well,” Gregory said. “I can’t take credit for this one. The entire thing was Sister Waters's idea.”

I stilled at that sudden throwing of me to the wolves as the group’s attention swung my way.

“It uh, it seemed like a good idea at the time,” I said nervously. “I could not begin to tell you what made it pop into my head.”

“Maybe you read it somewhere,” someone who’d been introduced as a baron’s daughter with red streaks and what better not be fake horns in her hair said. “I know I sometimes draw inspiration from the books I read.”

“Unfortunately,” said the man on her arm, sparking a swift argument. Gregory rolled his eyes, then frowned as a servant came up. She whispered in his ear something about a disruption being done at the table requiring his attention, and he left.

Which left me alone with the gaggle of young nobility. And the first two minutes made it clear those costumes were Infernals, not dragons.

There were far too many questions about being an Infernal. Had I eaten a baby? Had I danced naked in honor of the Hell Lords? Was it true all Infernals were secretly diabolists? I heard from my brother that you can use your tail like a man. I heard from my sister that the insides of your hooves are an erogenous zone. Was it true female pink-skinned Infernals tried to eat their partners after sex? Have I ever been to the Hells? Did I know any succubi or incubi? Was I descended from an incubi or succubi? That last one was asked eight times!

Then two girls who were clearly older and younger sisters in full fake Infernal garb came up and asked if they could touch my tail.

Danielle Waters was a people pleaser. Not the aggressive kind. Very submissive. Why the hells had I picked her for a ball I was attending with Gregory Montague?

“I’d prefer you did not touch my tail, please,” I said, and immediately both were stroking it.

It didn’t feel bad. It felt good, which made the sense of wrongness even worse.

“If you could please let go,” I said, suddenly finding out the press of people around me made it very hard to escape these two.

“It’s not hurting you, is it?” The younger one said, stroking it even further. "Oh you have a cute bow on it, I think I saw something like that at a rural fair we went to."

“That’s beside the point. Please let go. For your own safety.”

The older one grabbed it halfway down in a grip that was just loose enough that calling her out would feel impolite.

“Please let it go,” I said, looking around for any opening out of this sudden nightmare. Do not hurt these idiots. This, this was temporary. Just bear through it. Roasting someone alive from the inside with diabolism was forever.

I looked for any way out, but there was nothing, only more grinning faces wearing fake masks. Masks they didn’t deserve, dressed up because they could pretend. I couldn’t. Nothing but grasping hands.

Someone grabbed one of my horns, pulling.

The entire free length of my tail swung, ramming into the older sister’s cheek and sending those stupid fake horns flying as the sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed.

“I am so sorry,” I exclaimed while the other one removed their hands from my tail like it had burned them. “Involuntary muscle responses, it’s what I was trying to warn you about. Are you okay?”

The older one seemed unable to respond, a welt forming on the side of her head where my tail had slapped them.

There were a lot of angry expressions around me suddenly. Three larger youths were moving closer while most of the pack moved the two girls away from me. The largest one glowered down at me as he stepped forward, easily double my weight.

I was surrounded by a barricade of angry, scowling faces covered in red makeup and fake horns. Was anyone outside willing to help me? Dawes, Gregory, Voltar? Could any of them even see me?

The largest one opened his mouth when suddenly Kalrivers spoke up.

“It’s unfortunate, but you were trying to warn them, weren’t you?”

That caused a collective stumble among the group, eyes flickering to the black-haired social leader as he went off the script the rest had decided on.

I’d been thrown a lifeline. I’d take it.

“Yes, I just wasn’t able to get a word in. I am sorry about this. I could heal the wound?”

Surprise, no one wanted the Infernal getting near the wounded noblewoman. They all backed off, leaving me with Kalrivers.

“Tell me Miss Waters, are you Gregory’s alone or would you be interested in perhaps attending some future balls with others?”

That was…very blunt. The Hells was with this small knot of nobility.

“I am my own woman, is what I’d say first,” I said firmly. “And that this will probably be my only incursion.”

“I guess not,” Kalrivers said. “You picked a rather boring one this time, Gregory. I suppose this one isn’t of succubi or incubi lineage?”

My smile turned glacial.

Gregory had handled the disruption and had just returned, his own icy expression fixed on Kalrivers.

“I don’t know. Even if I did know, I wouldn’t say. Some people have things called manners and decency, Arnold.”

Kalrivers snorted. “Fair enough. Miss Waters, what -”

"No to both,” I said. “But please, do ask other Infernals that question my lord. Or ask them so bluntly to sleep with you. The world could do with a laugh.”

And a set of fangs latched around your neck.

"Come on,” Gregory said, gingerly wrapping his arm around my shoulders. “The staff has started serving the appetizers.”