Infernal Investigations

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had chocolate.

Sometime in the district, when the Black Flame had reigned supreme, which meant the shite bars from Hollans and Martel, where the cocoa powder was cut with all matters of substances as long as it meant more bars with less money.

This was the real deal as I nibbled on a bar, letting the taste spread through my mouth with tiny bites. I just needed anything to keep my mind off of that.

That would come up sooner or later, I thought, from the awkward silence of Gregory next to me and how he was trying not to look at my tail.

I’d gathered my tail up, most of it bunched up in my lap, my free arm resting on top while my other one kept the supply of chocolate going. It pulled slightly at where it connected to the rest of me, but that didn’t matter. It was safe.

It shouldn’t matter. A bunch of noble brats playing the rebel. Stupid questions. They’d gotten lucky because if this had been the district, they’d be trying to ask their stupid questions out of slit throats.

Gregory apparently decided he should speak up first.

“Sorry about that,” Gregory said. “Another of Kalriver’s friends accused me of something I couldn’t have physically been present for. He considers himself a rival to me and made a play at trying to get you. Back to the second floor?”

Made a play for me. Those words were not comforting in any aspect.

I lowered the chocolate bar and chuckled, a tinge of nervousness on the edge of it. “I think your father would kill us if we even tried walking to it.”

“Oh, I don’t care about that,” Gregory said. “I must say, you are once again wrecking my impression of you.”

“A good mask at work.”

“Sure. Your acting is very good. However, if you tell me all of this evening has been an act, I’ll call you a liar. But I’m just wondering, where is the Malvia Harrow who confessed about having a fling with a boy she had dick-kicked only years beforehand?”

Oh, Hells, he was referring to Daniel. That was on me for bringing him up during that trial. That pang of irritation inside me was growing larger though.

“She’s still here,” I said. “Just keeping her head down and keeping in mind that she has a role to play.”

“You seem a little shy for even keeping your head down,” Gregory said. “Even beyond the act, this seems a bit demure for you. I wouldn’t expect you to get embarrassed over what they were saying.”

Shy. Shy. I rolled that word around in my head a few times. This, this is what he wanted to talk about?

“There’s a difference between doing things in the privacy of one’s room and in public,” I replied. “Especially when most of those people staring already are ready to believe the worst things about you and are already judging you in a way you weren’t. Especially that last group of people!”

Gregory’s eyes widened slightly, and I glanced to either side. No one had taken notice. Good.

“They got under your skin a lot more than I expected.”

"They openly propositioned me just based on the fact that I have horns and a skin color that’s considered hellish,” I snapped back. “Let’s not even discuss how half of them were dressed up as Infernals, or that damn girl with my tail, or how they would have all gone for my horns next if given half a chance. What in the Hells was that?”

Gregory was silent for a bit.

"It’s a bit of a trend,” Gregory said. “While not to the point any of them would be daring enough to have an Infernal as their guest. Want to stick it to their parents, the transgressive nature, forbidden fruit, etc. Dressing up as Infernals. They even have a ranking list based on Infernal lineage.”

“…the status of the devil the bloodline was influenced by?” I ventured.

“No, the type of devil. I’ve had to sit through some of these discussions, and you would not believe how much some of them want to find an Infernal who descended from a succubus or incubus. The fantasies get very involved.”

“They should just go to a brothel then,” I hissed. “That kind of thing has no impact on anything.”

They made me prefer those who could barely hide their contempt or clumsily cover their assumption. One thing for certain, I was going to keep my own lineage even more of a very closely guarded secret from this point onwards. Just the part of it I thought the least important out of all of them.

“Not a fan of the idea, I take it?” Gregory asked.

“People discuss the lineage of horses for races and how well they will perform,” I replied. “I’m not thrilled over the idea of people asking me my lineage so they can figure out how good of a lay I’ll be.”

Gregory winced. “I can see why that would be-”

“Demeaning,” I interrupted. “Yes. So was stroking my tail. If they do it again-”

“They won’t,” Gregory assured me, which I regarded skeptically. “We’ll stick away from them. They try it, and I’ll ward them off. They get their hands on you, well.”

I let out a guttural sigh, trying to force as much emotion out as I could. “If you’ll be there. Which you weren’t. They were lucky, you know? So you better make sure you are there next time because if one of them lays a finger on me or asks me if my tail is as good as their boyfriend’s cock. Five minutes. An empty room. They won’t be able to do it again.”

“What exactly do you mean by that?” Gregory asked me, expression as sober as I’d ever seen it.

Of course, it was. I’d threatened nobles.

“You left me there,” I said. “You could have brought me with you, but no, you left me there with them. Did you think that would end well?”

"I thought,” Gregory paused, looking across the ballroom to where Kalrivers and his ilk had gathered, then looked down. “I guess I didn’t think. I knew what they were like, but it always seemed harmless…it’s a new one each year. No. Nothing excuses it. I’m sorry, Malvia.”

I breathed in, breathed out. He’d apologized, which wasn’t nothing. More than some. More than most, thinking on it some more.

“Apology accepted. But please stop using my real name here. You said a new one every year? Do they change this stupidity up?”

“It’s a passing trend based on what’s caught their imagination and what they think is the most taboo-breaking they might be willing to stand. Two years ago it was the Keltish. Last year, it was the fey. I thought that would teach their successors not to mess around in things like that, but apparently, I was wrong.”

A guest was nearing us now, so the mask was being slammed back on.

“A story of the fey Lord Montague?” I said with cheer. “You must tell me! We hear stories about them, but I’m pretty sure the only one I ever thought I’d seen was just a very colorful insect.”

“Oh, it’s made its rounds quite a bit and is so dull to repeat. And I could hardly tell it in front of the brother of one of those directly involved. Charles! Feels like it’s been ages since we last saw each other! Miss Waters, this is Charles Daven, nephew to Count Daven and fourth in line to a minor lordship out in Chalkford.”

“It was two weeks ago, not ages,” the new arrival said, a mutton-chopped noble who couldn’t have been more than a few years older than Gregory and me. “Baron Malton’s ball. We traded a few words while you were on your way out, being chased by the Baron and his two sons.”

“Oh my,” I gasped. “Whatever reason could a baron have for chasing after a gentleman like Lord Montague?”

Charles Daven glanced my way and, in a second, dismissed me as anything worth paying attention to. It was infuriating, but ultimately, what I was going for. At least it was over personality and not the horns, but either didn’t endear me to him.

Then again, I didn’t need to be endeared. I needed them to be fooled.

“Many a reason, I’m sure. Where did you dig this one up, Gregory?”

“Sister Waters is here from the countryside,” Gregory answered. “The temple has entrusted me with teaching her about the city and educating her regarding life here.”

“I’m learning an awful lot about the kinds of people here,” I said brightly, taking far too much glee in Gregory wincing at the statement. “So your sister was involved in this story, Lord Daven? Tell me, what did she do?”

Fey trickery could be malicious, and right now I was in the mood for malicious stories about foolish nobles.

“We shouldn’t really discuss it,” Gregory said. “It’s his sister, it’s a touchy subject.”

Oh, so this needed the lightest touch involved, then? Why, because it was nobles the subject of discourse?

“No, tell the story,” Daven deadpanned. “Teressa was an idiot who ultimately paid the price of her own utter stupidity. If she doesn’t enjoy being married to William Carter, maybe she shouldn’t have enjoyed sleeping with a physical copy of him.”

Oh, it was going to be one of those stories, wasn’t it.

“Fey trickery?” I asked. “I thought they crafted illusions, not shapechanging.”

Some could. That had actually been a hypothesis tossed around between I and Voltar. In the end it had been discarded. Fey were too individualistic and lacking in discipline, and would have preferred a far lighter touch to our shapechanging suspects. The possibility was always there but the appliance of cold iron to Hawkins hadn’t caused his shapechanging to collapse.

“This was a particularly powerful fey,” Gregory said. “A Fox-tailed creature who seems remarkably unconcerned about the cold iron of the city.”

Wait. A kitsune had been here?

“Interesting,” I said. “I’ve never heard of this kind of fey. So, according to your story, this was part of a fad involving nobility. What was the fad?”

“Utter stupidity,” Daven repeated. “At first, it was just, to quote my sister, ‘You can’t believe what it’s like, the fur and the tail and the ears.’ It sounded like the ravings of a lunatic. Then the fey revealed she could shapeshift and was willing to take requests.”

“Requests?”

“People for her to shapeshift into before having sex. It started with just other members of the group they had crushes on. Then it started expanding to well…anyone. It all kind of went to the Hells, no offense, when Duke Yalmen’s youngest grandson got caught fooling around with what appeared to be Her Majesty at first glance.”

My jaw almost dislocated itself. “Oh…oh my. I never heard of this.”

“Which points to the efficacy of the clean-up,” Lord Daven muttered. “If you weren’t directly involved with the noble families involved? You heard nothing. The newspapers know, but they also know if they print anything they’ll find themselves without any offices soon enough. In the end, the only remotely productive thing to come out of it were the marriages, mostly based on which pairings had the most evidence still floating about that could possibly resurface.”

“Evidence?”

“The fox fey was either a voyeur or a blackmailer. Or both. There are pictures, and no one can be sure if all of them were found. Honestly, most of those involved got off lucky. Marriages, not disinheritances.”

“Is the fox fey still around?” I asked.

The chance of a kitsune being behind this…I wasn’t sure. My knowledge was stories as a child, some of which had been light-hearted, others had been not. Unfortunately, the only ones who’d told me those stories were either in a coma or in this ballroom, but I could hardly ask them.

“No idea,” Daven said. “My sister and her little group have of course, stopped seeing it.”

“Ask Voltar,” Gregory said. “If anyone knows, it’s him.”

Maybe he was the Kitsune.

The same servant from before was approaching us again, and I did my best not to glower. What had happened was not even remotely their fault.

“Lord Gregory, someone is requesting you at the front door,” the servant said. “You might want to meet them before your father gets word.”

***

We went out the front door, past the assorted carriages whose drivers would be inside, probably playing cards till it was time to take their charges home.

Malstein stood near a Watch carriage at the end, looking around for anyone. No one was directly by the estate, although some late-night pedestrians were looking at us, curiosity piqued.

Satisfied there was no one close enough to overhear, Malstein turned to me.

“Someone wearing your face assaulted three members of the Watch just a few hours ago,” Malstein said.

Well, there went my reputation again.

“Well, I suppose we should have seen that coming,” I said. “I’m already the one with the record, so it would be the easiest to frame me. I’m just shocked they didn’t do more before this. I already have a new face on-”

Malstein shook his head. “You misunderstood. Someone with your current face assaulted three members of the Watch two hours ago.”

Oh. That meant a changer was among the staff. “And you know about this because?”

“Some lieutenant and a squad of Watch are currently trying to force their way past the cordon here. Someone gave a tip that you could be found here.”

“Can you stall them?” Gregory asked.

“I can. But that was just the first group to arrive. There’s a second claiming to have a warrant from Colonel Hickens for me on charges of corruption.”

Oh, joy. “Watch politics or the Changers?”

“Changers. I know Hickens, and while we don’t see eye to eye on many things, trumped-up charges aren’t his preferred tactic. I can’t delay dealing with this any longer.”

“Appreciated, Captain.”

Malstein nodded, then turned around, heading off to the cordon.

I drummed my fingers nervously. They had the Watch distracted now, but why? Sure, they might eventually remove Malstein and his unit from keeping a loose screen around the manor, but that had never been to keep anyone out. It had been for catching anyone trying to flee when things did kick off. But they’d sent a hint that they were going to start things early off.

It took too much time, and Malstein could likely find the real Colonel Hickens, who presumably hadn’t signed that warrant. Or he had been fooled by evidence given by someone else being impersonated.

“We need to get inside and organize a search for as much of the estate as possible,” I said. “This is the time. They’ll strike soon.”

“Surely it would be easier for them to remove some of us from the estate entirely before moving?”

“Maybe, but that’s a risk. The longer it stretches on, the more chance that someone they’ve impersonated clears up the mess. And impersonating a colonel of the Watch means a lot more attention.”

Even a corrupt officer would want anyone who impersonated them taken care of just for drawing attention to them. People would be looking into anything you’d done just to try and figure out how long the impersonation had been ongoing. Then their best hope would be blaming the shapechanger for whatever did surface.

We both headed back inside to the party.

***

Going inside, the party had migrated to the tables entirely. Servers were bringing the food out, which sent the Imp jabbering inside my head.

I ignored it as I spotted one of the servers heading back into the kitchen. Recognizing her in a server’s uniform instead of a guard took a second. But unless Calab had a twin sister, she’d just headed into the kitchen, serving tray in hand.

“Didn’t you say Calab was going to guard the room where Edward used to be?” I asked Gregory.

“Her and a couple of others. But if we have a leak in the manor staff, they’ll know that Edward is on the-“

“Not the point,” I interrupted. “How often are they being checked on? Because I swear I just saw her leaving through a door down there.”

His eyes widened.

She’d already disappeared behind the door, and we were quick to follow.

***

“Has Calab been down here recently?” Gregory asked one of the servers.

The group shook their heads.

“Could be the changer already changed,” I said.

“Could be you didn’t spot her,” Gregory replied.

“And yet I did.”

Gregory looked around, face paler than normal. “If the staff are being overworked, Father could have conceivably had some of the guards drafted to make up for the deficit. Most of them can do the job well enough to suffice.”

“While your brother is being threatened?”

Gregory hesitated. It was understandable. The alternative was not something pleasant to think about.

“Let’s check the room where she was stationed,” I said.

She could still be alive. Conceivably.

***

The room had changed since I’d visited. More furniture had been moved in. The bed was moved out. Now, a tea table dominated it. Cabinets were pressed up against the walls. It was empty.

I smelled blood. From the cabinet, which was maybe two foot by three. Hells. Shapechangers were strong, and if they didn’t want anyone to notice the dead…ideally, you’d have transport for the bodies, but if they were running this quick and dirty, the very temporary would do.

I opened the doors of the cabinet. Behind me came a choked gasp.

Calab had been shoved inside, bones snapped, and skin ripped to fit inside. Her eyes stared lifelessly at my own while blood pooled at the bottom, spilling out onto the floor beyond. The skin had scraped where pushed against the edges of the cabinet, shoved in with no thought or care. Just shoved inside in the hopes it would keep her hidden. A forearm snapped off at the elbow and fell out onto the carpeting.

I didn’t try any of the other ones. Gregory or someone else would know the faces.

I just hoped the changers were still wearing those faces.