Infernal Investigations

Reaching the stairs again, Gregory and most of the Watch had vanished, leaving only Malstein and a few Watch officers.

“I wonder if they’re the only ones left,” I said quietly as I struggled down the stairs, ignoring the burst of pain traveling up my leg with each step. “Outside of Lord Montague and Lady Karsin still locked up on the third floor.”

“I considered getting up there when we first entered,” Tagashin whispered. “But the dragon spirit would have detected me simply, and I’m not taking that on.”

I couldn’t fault the Kitsune for that. If the vessel they’d made for it to inhabit were any indication of its power, it would be a formidable opponent.

“I have ideas,” I muttered. “Ones that might require some cooperation later. It may be possible to get to the Montague’s third floor. There aren’t any doors for the rooms you can reach through windows, but if I were to get up there-”

Malstein was coming over now, and I stopped talking. It wouldn’t do to discuss exactly how I planned to break the law in front of him.

“Miss Harrow,” Malstein greeted us as he met us at the foot of the stairs. “Lord Gregory mentioned it, but it appears you’ve found Mister Voltar and Doctor Dawes.”

“Indeed I have,” I said. “Locked up and tied up inside a closet.”

“They tied you up?” Malstein asked, frowning. “That seems pretty merciful of them.”

“It was,” Tagashin said with a smile I should have known long before didn’t fit Voltar. Damnable Glamour.

“They seemed pretty mixed on it themselves,” Dawes said hurriedly. “As far as I could tell, they were worried about the deaths being detected by Lord Montague’s spirit.”

Curious. It hadn’t detected the previous deaths.

“I can attest it's actually them,” I said. “Although I won’t pass up using the paralytic to test them.”

“The paralytic?”

I quickly outlined the method I’d discussed with the others.

“Maybe you should stab them with it,” Malstein said, eyeing the two of them.

“It’s them,” I assured him. “Not that I don’t think the suggestion has no merit, but I think it’s better used testing those who aren’t aware of it. Otherwise, they can fake the paralysis.”

“That could work,” Malstein said. “A bit of an annoyance if they aren’t a changer to deal with. And expensive depending on how much that paralytic cost to make.”

“It is,” I admitted. “We do have one on hand to test methods on at least. Where is Mr. Hawkins?”

“Locked inside a wagon,” Malstein said. “With two full squads of Watch keeping an eye on him. Even if he regains his shapeshifting, they’ll notify the rest of us and try to delay him as much as possible. Detective, doctor, while I’m glad to see you are both safe, I need to borrow Miss Harrow for right now.”

“Me?” I asked.

“You, yes. Something has arisen that I need your specific input on. Not through the front door, the side one.”

Well, that was very suspicious. I eyed the number of Watch in the room. None of them looked like they weren’t used to the uniform, and there were ten in here besides Malstein. What were the chances they were all changers? Not very high.

“I don’t see any reason to refuse if you would excuse me, Doctor, Detective,” I said, bidding my farewells and then limping after Malstein as he moved towards the kitchen hallways I’d traveled down with Gregory.

“Before we get too far, Captain, I have a question,” I said as he slowed his pace for me. “I would appreciate some time to interrogate Mr. Hawkins? I don’t need much time, but I’d appreciate some to question him.”

Malstein considered it for a few seconds. “Under rules set by the Watch, I could arrange it.”

“Of course,” I replied cheerily. “No torture without the good Colonel Colgraves being invited.”

“He left an impression on you, didn’t he?” Malstein said as he resumed his walk.

“Captain, if you remove someone’s fingers, it’s hard not to.”

***

Five bodies hung in the street.

An archway of marble led to Lord Montague’s estate, a gate of metal bars that could be used to control access to his little fiefdom in the city. White, pure, imperious. No longer any of those things.

Five bodies hung from the pristine archway, ropes running over the top. They hadn’t died from it. They lacked the signs, meaning they’d been staged here afterward.

The air was cold out, nipping at my exposed skin as a slight breeze passed through the street, carrying the stench of death and something else. No noise outside the muffled sounds of Watch members shuffling about or testing the ropes keeping the corpses suspended.

Ash and grease formed the sign of the Black Flame on the archway between the ropes, the goat’s skull staring down at us past the dead bodies.

There were perhaps ten of the Watch here, most of them keeping watch on the other side of the open gate.

They’re still fresh, the Imp whispered in my head. You did well taking on the mask-wearer earlier, so I won’t force it. But I desire my cows.

Right, like I needed another reminder. I looked up at the bodies, looking at the faces. All humans, and two of them I recognized. Members of that group of Pure-Bloods Gregory and I had spotted outside Lady Karsin’s estate.

“I’m tempted to think this is related to the attack by the ‘Black Flame’ tonight,” Malstein said next to me.

“You can’t be sure they weren’t actually members,” I said quietly to Malstein, who snorted.

“The tattoos were surface only. Barely piercing the skin. Besides, I know Flame when I see it.”

Interesting. He’d said he’d never seen the tattoo before mine. Had the good Captain hidden the extent of his experience when we’d first met?

“Two of those hanging are Pure Bloods,” I said. “The rest I imagine are also members, meaning there were likely killed by the Flame.”

“More than likely,” Malstein agreed. “Could you track them?”

“Can I track them?” I said as I continued looking up at the bodies. “I’m not a bloodhound, Captain. They’ll probably head underground at some point. What advice would I give for tracking them down there? Don’t. They’ll probably have an ambush set up for you underground, and having a common foe you’re both fighting won’t stop them from trying to kill any Watch members after them.”

“Your gang has the most pleasant people in it,” Malstein said.

“Former gang,” I corrected tersely. “Besides, Versalicci would do it for anyone trying to follow them. He’s not kept alive all this time by letting people know where he is.”

“It is strange,” Malstein said as one of the bodies was lowered to the ground. “We did find a note on them for a ‘sister.’ I’m assuming that’s you.”

I sighed. Really subtle, Gio. Now that he needed a conduit to the demon full-time again, I should have anticipated something like that. There’d probably be a more public reveal of our relationship in the near future.

“That’s me, yes,” I said. “One parent shared, if you could call that thing a parent.”

“The Duke...the name escapes me,” Malstein said.

“Don’t bother learning it,” I said. “It’s not good on anyone’s throat. I never bothered learning it, and please don’t tell any of the guests wearing fake Infernal accessories that I’m descended from a Hell Noble Incubus. Could you pass me the letter?”

A piece of paper, folded into precise quarters that I quickly unfolded it. I rolled my eyes at the Black Flame symbol on the back of it before turning it over to read the contents.

Sister, I recently discovered some rats running through tunnels that didn’t belong to them. I of course decided they should be eliminated, as one does all such vermin, but I remembered you yourself have had a pest problem quite recently. If you wish, I am willing to tell you exactly the methods of dealing with them and where I believe they might be coming from.

I snorted, handing the letter back.

“I suppose you’ve already read it?”

“The Watch only reads personal correspondence when there is probable cause of relation to a crime, Miss Harrow,” Malstein answered.

The watchmen trying to hold onto the rope for the second corpse didn’t get a good enough grip as her fellow sawed through it. The dead body plummeted to the cobblestones, both me and Malstein wincing as its legs snapped on impact with a resounding crack.

“Of course, I read through it. Your brother clearly wants something from you.”

“Hopefully, he’ll remain disappointed,” I said, returning the letter. “If you have mages who think they can track the ink, you’re welcome to try, although I doubt it will be that easy.”

A sufficiently skilled Hydrologist could do so, but even if the Watch had one in their employ, my brother hadn’t lived this long by being careless. He would have covered his tracks one way or another.

“They’re probably from the Pure Bloods' new residence underground we’ve already found the location of,” I said. “At best, he might narrow it down some.”

“Do you know that for certain?” Malstein took the paper back, sticking it in a pocket on his overcoat, which I’m beginning to wish I had one of. The chill air was a bit different when all you wore was a tattered cheongsam.

“I can’t,” I said, turning my attention back to the hanging bodies. The Watch was preparing to lower one, someone cutting the tied off rope while the other held onto it.

“He tends to offer that which he knows his targets need, but he might not know what the captured Pure Blood is telling us already. And considering what his prices might be in return, I think there are safer ways to get that information.”

The body lowered slowly until the Watchwoman had to let go of the rope, the corpse dropping the remaining few feet before crumpling onto the cobblestones. A Watchman immediately started moving towards the corpse, leaning down to grab it.

“I wouldn’t touch the body if I were you,” I called out to the Watchman. “At least not without gloves!”

The Watchman froze, looking over at me and then at Malstein.

“I concur with the contractor, Officer Theodarian. Miss Harrow, do you want to look in his stead.”

I raised an eyebrow at my sudden new status. Contractor? Within the hierarchy but with no actual authority. Pleasant.

“I can examine them, make sure they are safe. And maybe see if I can ferret out some clues towards where they came from.”

“Be my guest,” Malstein said. “I can spare the bodies for a bit before they need to be taken to the Coffin.”

“I’d need gloves myself,” I said, holding up my two mostly bare arms. The dress had already been mostly sleeveless, and the fighting since then had left it in terrible condition.

Malstein snorted and reached into his pocket, pulling out a pair of leather gloves and handing them over.

No one I’d ever met had ever described my hands as dainty, but they were swimming in these. Well, I’d have to take some awkward moving as a trade-off for not accidentally poisoning myself. I knew by heart the most common poisons the Black Flame might smear bodies with, hoping to catch unwary Watchmen out when they brought them in for examination.

I’d pioneered some of the techniques myself. Something I could only hope no one in the Watch knew about.

The first body was in good shape, having not come crashing down to the ground. The third body descended slowly as I leaned down. The two handling the lowering had learned their lesson.

Leaning down hurt on my splinted leg, awkward and miserable, but eventually I got myself low enough to start examining the prone corpse.

I sniffed the air as I leaned down by the body, but the smells were moldy and damp like one would expect from the underground. A tinge of chemicals perhaps, but nothing that was like the poisons we would smear that bore odors. That left the odorless ones, and I started looking for the spots they’d smear. Under the shoulders where bodies were grabbed to be dragged, on the insides of clothes for when those were being taken off of the bodies.

I blinked to check on the Astral, and nothing. Just the same corpse, with no sign of spirits of any kind. This is for different reasons than Lord Montague’s manor, though. Soul-sucked.

“He appears to be clean,” I said. “Both physically and astrally. I’d still advise gloves that you’re willing to dispose of when handling them, just to be safe. Versalicci’s stocks are limited, so it’s a slim risk, but more than nothing.”

“Perhaps you could have mentioned that before borrowing my spare pair of good gloves,” Malstein said.

I grimaced. “Apologies. I can buy you a new pair.”

Assuming I ever actually was paid. I’d not gone without anything I’d asked so far at Voltar’s, but actual hard currency was in short supply, at least in terms of any entrusted to me. Another thing to resolve when the actual Voltar was back.

I grabbed the Pure Bloods' chin, forcing the corpse’s mouth open.

“Could someone please bring a lantern over?” I asked, and one of the Watch went to fetch one. The rest stared uncomfortably as I manipulated the corpse. “If he has a moment, someone should fetch Dr. Dawes from inside. Ah, thank you. Could you angle it so the light goes into his mouth? I just need to confirm something.”

It took only a second of viewing under the lantern’s light to confirm what I suspected.

“Tongue’s been cut out. After death, from the lack of blood, so reanimating the corpse won’t give us any answers. If they accounted for the corpse, they’d also account for the spirit. A look on the astral indicated no remaining spirit. Probably fed the souls to someone.”

That got a collective shudder from everyone there, quite a few making religious signs with their hands, some of them pulling out symbols as if to ward away any Black Flame waiting in the shadows to eat their souls. Even Malstein looked somewhat unbalanced by my casualness about this.

“You’re certain on that?” He asked, his tone just a little less steady.

“You could bring a necromancer to double-check, but I’m quite confident,” I said, letting go of the head and checking the dead man’s clothing and pockets. “And whoever you get would need to be careful. This many precautions, they may have also decided to lay a trap on one of them. Pockets have been picked clean except for lint. Can you send some of the clothes to Voltar when you’ve finished with the bodies? I’d like to run an analysis on them, and see if they have residue or other elements they might have picked up underground. Anything to help narrow down where they were underground.”

“We do have our own alchemists on staff, Miss Harrow,” Malstein responded, carefully watching as I finished going through the pockets. “I believe they can determine that on their own.”

“I don’t mean to doubt their abilities, Captain,” I said, thinking through my response carefully. I needed to thread a needle here instead of outright saying I had any doubts in the information he would provide. I couldn’t make this sound unreasonable.

“I do have experience with the underground directly, having accompanied several Delver teams down there,” I told him, keeping my hands in clear sight so it didn’t look like I was pocketing anything. “I just want to ensure we have as many eyes looking over potential evidence as possible.”

Malstein thought it over for a second. “If they can’t find anything specific or narrow it down far enough, I’ll send some to you. But until then, it will stay under my jurisdiction. Understand?”

“Perfectly,” I said, standing up with no small effort as I got my splinted leg back under me. “Can I check the other corpses?”

“Certainly. But one other thing about what I just said. Do not attempt to leverage Voltar to try and get any of those clothes. His habit of taking evidence is beginning to reach its limit with the Watch. Maybe you’d be kind enough to pass that on to him?”

I nodded while wondering who that had been, Voltar or Tagashin? This felt like an old complaint, probably predating the Kitsune as much as I was tempted to blame any gremlinry on her. And also, it felt like if anything were truly needed Voltar would just need to lean on his connections to intelligence.

“I’ll see what I can do, but to be perfectly frank, he might respect your opinion more than mine,” I told Malstein as I went to the second corpse. I beckoned for the lantern-bearer to come closer, most of the other Watch wandering off.

Probably not far. They’d want to be close in case Malstein needed me handled.

“So says the only one of us currently living in the man’s house,” Malstein said as I handled the second corpse, carefully moving the splintered remnants of his legs out of the way.

“You assume that equals respect, but I have to disagree,” I said as I opened up the jaw, the lantern-bearer already letting light shine inside. “I am….a curiosity? Relative and lieutenant to one of his greatest enemies, diabolist, potentially turning over a new leaf. It’s easy enough to fit a collar on me till he figures out how to pierce a mask.”

“A good blow typically works for that,” Malstein said as I confirmed the lack of a tongue and checked the pockets. “Also, ‘potentially turning over a new leaf’? Bit dangerous to phrase it that way, I’d think.”

I snorted as I finished with the pockets, moving to the shattered legs to check the bottoms of the boots.

“Even if I didn’t say it, I imagine it’s what people are thinking. It’s not like my brother hasn’t pulled off more insidious schemes in the past. I’m sure you’ve read some accounts yourself.”

“I have,” Malstein said as I removed the broken-off feet from the boots, turning them over and looking at the soles. “Even if you agreed to a mind-reading, that couldn’t be a certainty, could it? He’s shown a willingness to tinker with the brains of his people in the past.”

“More than you might imagine,” I replied. “Interesting. See where the boot leather is cracked on the surface? Looks powdery and red underneath. Acid damage, sulfuric specifically. There’s places you can encounter it, but underground….some monsters expel or excrete it naturally. Something to work off of.”

“I’ve seen it before,” Malstein said, frowning as he looked down at the boot. “And it certainly hadn’t been underground when it started doing that. How do you know about it?”

“It can happen as part of the dyeing process,” I replied, putting the boot next to it’s dead owner. “But those are more common among book-bindings than boots, so this was likely exposure. Potentially walking through some, which would indicate very high amounts of it. As for how I know, there were experiments involving acid coatings. They didn’t end well. Next corpse?”

They’d finished lowering that one and number four, with number five halfway down by now.

“There aren’t just records of Versalicci in there,” Malstein said as I got to work on number three. “You have quite the file on you, everything you’ve done. Even without the Diabolism being known and anything that came from that, quite the impressive list .”

“I’m sure they are described in the most flattering words,” I said as I checked the chin first once again. “Are they going to be a problem?”

“You seem rather convinced it won’t be,” Malstein said. I paused in my examination.

Had the invitation here been for more than just the note left behind? Or something else besides that? I did not try looking at anyone besides Malstein, but if I had would I find any firearms leveled my way?

“Is there a problem between you and me, Captain?”

Malstein’s expression was carefully frozen. The kind of mask you wore when you didn’t trust your ability to fake anything but nothing.

“Not today. And not till this is over.”

“After?” I ventured.

“Hopefully our paths won’t cross. Anything with this one?”

I turned my attention back to the body to distract myself from our current conversation. Prying wouldn’t result in anything but risking piercing that mask. I didn’t think I’d like what was behind it.

“Missing wedding ring. You can see where the skin’s been covered up. Strange none of the others have one.”

“Danny O’Shea.”

I paused. I didn’t recognize the name, but there was a weight on it that made it apparent this wasn’t some light remark.

“I’m unfamiliar with the gentleman,” I said, continuing my examination, moving to the boots. Sulfuric acid damage again. I’d probably find it on the first corpse’s as well, if I went back to them.

“I didn’t think you were, but it never hurts to ask. The other names as well. Acid on the boots?”

I took the out offered away from talking about the name. Asking might open a door I couldn’t close.

“Yes,” I said. “Since it’s sulfuric it might be a chemical process producing it. There are creatures that do it, but unless it’s combined with more esoteric substances or is enhanced with magic most creatures don’t use it as a weapon. It is probably a creature producing it, since some make it more resistant to water vapor, which bonds easily to it. This reduces the number of creatures that could be making it, to four that I can remember for certain, and none of them are common.”

“Are any of them the Basilisk?” Malstein asked, the heaviness gone from his tone.

I got up from the corpse, looking around to see Watch members either busy at work or bored standing guard. Perhaps that had been all they’d been doing this entire time?

“No,” I said. “The Basilisk doesn’t produce it. It’s already dangerous enough without. No, but the four that do are notable enough that the Delver’s Guilds would have noted it. I’ll see about getting that information as soon as I can, unless you want to handle that yourself?”

Malstein considered for a few moments, then shook his head. “No, the Delvers have never been fond of the Watch. Spirits too independent. Admirable in their free-spirited nature though.”

Unlike some, was the unsaid portion of that. I straightened up, not moving to the fourth corpse.

“Who is Danny O’Shea?” I asked.

“Was,” Malstein said, bitterness creeping into his tone for that word. “He was a member of my squad. Years ago. Along with others. Most of them buried, at Black Flame hands.”

“My hands?” I said, keeping a careful eye on the lanter-bearer. He hadn’t moved, and none of the other Watch had either.

“I cannot say,” Malstein said, that face of stone back. “Perhaps so, perhaps not, but you hardly spent all your time with Versalicci cutting throats personally.”

“I’m hardly responsible for anything the Black Flame ever did,” I protested, and that face of stone cracked.

Malstein breathed in, then out, recomposing himself. “Entirely? No. But this talk isn’t productive. You should head back to the rest of the guests now.”

I lingered. Should I try to say something else? Try to convince him that my responsibility in his comrade’s death was minimal at most?

He was right on how he would be likely to take that. It's best to stick with this. He could hate me, but as long as he was professional, I could work with that.

And with that, I left.