The tunnel was a smooth polished stone carved out of the foundations below. It made sense, not a single crack for anything tle in or out of like you might enter with bricks. Eveal door had been perfectly fitted, not a millimeter of space for anything to get past it.

  It only added to the eeriness as we desded.

  It was a narrow staircase, and there was not enough space for two people to be abreast. No lights for that reason, hanging or suspending any would mean holes in the walls or ceiling. No space to stand any lights. The only illumination was the pair of nterns, one I carried in the front, one by Dawes in the back.

  The only sound was our breathing and the tread of boots and hooves on stone. I’d insisted on no talking. The ce of something summohat fed on our maniputed nguage was slim, but it was a risk I didn’t want to take.

  The circur staircase tinued dowwenty, thirty feet, cirg again and again. How had the stru of this been hidden? Had it been done when the church itself was made, or a ter addition that somehow went unnoticed?

  Eventually, the stairs stopped, and I eyed the room they deposited us in.

  As someone who’d dealt in quite a few, this was not very impressive for an underground hideout.

  It had been carved out meticulously, a rge square maybe twenty paces long and ten across. Most of it was dominated by a rge metal table, dried splotches of what robably blood on it f a set of patterns I reized. Runs were engraved along the sides, ones I reized from even before my time with the Imp. Basic diabolism ritual outlines, given power with bloh metal chairs, and a workbench with a variety of tools on it. Four metal cages, thankfully empty. Big giant gss tainers of sealed liquid

  I gripped the focus, eyes open to the are as I looked about. They hurt, the riotous mix of divine and diabolic making them tear up.

  Red poured up from the table and ihe cages like blood ier, while white staties emerged from the divine wards set at the doorway and aligned along all the walls. Nothing else lurked though, and if it owerful enough to hide on both the astral and the material pnes, we wouldn’t be able to stop it.

  “We’re clear,” I said, then looked down at the holy sigils pnted into the ground. “Well, you two are. I am going to end up burning a hoof down here, I just know it.”

  “Minor exposure hopefully shouldn’t hurt,” Voltar said. “What are we looking at here Miss Harrow?”

  “Table’s definitely used for rituals,” I said, looking over each of the runes carved into it’s side. “They’ve got a few different ritual shapes set up with that dried blood. Guessing that’s part of what those gss tainers have. That or this is going to take a very dark turn and the church has been feeding people into this.”

  “Hard to imagine all of these churches would sign off on that,” Dawes said. “I’ll not say anything about how bloody some of them get but-”

  “I agree Doore like the case than not. What were they primarily doing with the table, Miss Harrow?”

  I looked it over with a critical eye. “Small-time summoning it looks like, probably what the cages were for. There are a few other things these be used to do, but they’d draw more attention than not. Most of them are about reag far aces, so you could use them for striking at far away foes, or unication, but you’d be worried about Infernal energies leaking out at the destination. Worse, it would leave a trail to be followed, so ihey used them to reato the Hells and bring minor devils.”

  “Imps?” Voltar asked while Doctor Dawes examihe dried blood.

  “Multiple applications,” the Doctor noted. “Looks like the freshet is maybe a few weeks old at the most. I’d o exami in my own b, but probably not animal.”

  “Definitely not animal, and definitely not imps,” I said. “We’re already talking about trying to summon from the Hells, blood not from a fresh sacrifice, especially blood freely given like this likely was? Doesn’t give as much power as a live sacrifice or souls. And Imps are fairly powerful-”

  As we have every right to be The Imp said in my head, and I scowled at the interruption.

  “They are intelligent, they speak, they practice Diabolism, they fly. Do not let their small stature fool you, they are definitely not the lowest tier of devils. That would be actual animals, devils with no ability to speak, ohat just a their instincts. Lesser Imps, which are just flying little pests. You train some of them, and they be useful sources ents. Guessing from the size of the cages, nothing te. Probably not Hellhounds. This might have just been practid testing. See if they could tame any diabolic creatures, see how far they could reach. Does raise an iing question of how they gaihe ability to practi the first pce.”

  It wasn’t just being an Infernal that could get ied power, even just a drop of blood in the ary could lead to it ter down the liill, very unlikely. Same for the ability to tap into it naturally. Which left the Deal.

  “How many Devils do you think would make deals with Tarverian priests?” Voltar asked me. “In your experience.”

  “My experience isn’t much,” I admitted. “Tarverian priests….maybe? You’d probably find some Devil of high power merary enough to just do a simple trade iurn for an . Of course, it wouldn’t be much. Actual power via deals typically es from repeated dealings or major s. If we’re assuming this is church saned and slightly moral, the tter option wouldn’t be possible. Not unless someone was fortable sacrifig souls, because the more powerful Devils would demand that.”

  The more powerful ones I dealt with anyway. It was entirely possible other ways of paying them would work, but I doubted they’d be aodating to priests.

  “For now, we assume it’s a deal,” Voltar said. “Until we have more of the details on this. The tools?”

  I took a look over them. “Tools for harvesting reagents. In the Fme, we used modified farming tools, these look purpose-built. Did you find anything in Father Reginald’s desk by the way?”

  “Not anything worth noting. The man’s personal life didn’t seem germane and the rest was ste for financial information, correspondence about the people here to the churd trying to drive up worship. Nothing germa. As much as it paio say it, we should probably leave no. We have a neatic ritual to fake before they get suspicious, and also we should leave as little trace as possible for when they e here tomorrow.”

  ***

  One faked neantic ritual ter, I was ready to head home, only for a fresh plication to arise.

  "You must be kidding me,” I said, looking out from the sed-story window. “What does he want?”

  Gregory Montague was standing outside the door, maybe te away, stamping his feet to try and keep warm. How long had he been out there?

  “If I had to guess,” Voltar said o me. “He wants to try and e to some kind of accord with you. Something where our joint iigation into this case goes peacefully.”

  “Joint iigation,” I repeated. “With the church-approved pack of Diabolists?”

  Voltar chuckled. “Miss Harrow, do you have some kind of moral pun against w alongside Diabolists? Of which there may only be two?”

  “No,” I snapped. “I have a pun against w alongside someone who thinks me a monster!”

  Voltar raised an eyebrow. “Really? You worked with Captain Malstein well enough. And you at least cooperate with Captain Walston and Tagashin without issue.”

  “That is different,” I muttered angrily as I turned my attention back to the waiting figure of Montague. It was dark but he could probably tell it was me up here. Horns made that unavoidable.

  “Yes. You didn’t care about their opinions, so when they expressed those opinions you dismissed them as not worth it and focused on just getting the job then. You ultimately don’t care about what any of them thought about you.”

  I scowled, gring at the sereive. “What did I say earlier about enting on my personal life Voltar?”

  “You didn’t say anything,” he replied with infuriating ess. “You simply let the versatioo me and Dawes disagreeing and we went to interview Father Reginald’s traumatized assistant. Besides, what I said earlier applies to you as much as him. Refusal to work together is not something any of us tolerate while on this case.”

  I grunted. “You being right does not make me enthusiastic about this.”

  “We are often called upon to do things-”

  I didn’t bother listening to the rest, already clopping to the stairs. I might as well. The shortest path to the carriage was this way, and I ending as little time in the cold as possible.

  I stormed outside into the falling snow, and Gregory hesitated. The expression on my face probably had something to do with that.

  “Miss Harrow,” he said warily. “Is now a good time to talk?”

  “It’s not,” I replied bluntly. “It’s te, it’s cold, and I want to be home in bed, but I’ve been stuck here helping a foolish endeavor till now and don’t particurly want to be involved in a sed ht now, thank you. Say your piece, please?”

  He bristled at that, but I was hardly lying. It was damn cold out, even through my jacket, and standing out in it for too long would risk chills I did not want.

  "I was told that letting tensio between us is not the best when there's a case to be solved," he started, and I snorted.

  "I see little way of getting rid of it," I said. "As long as you are willing to talk, that will suffiow, as I said, I am very tired -"

  “What did take you all so long ihere, anyway?” He asked me, tone ily curious in a matter that absolutely had to be faked.

  Which lie to go with? Tell him it was none of his business or offer a life as an olive branch. To hells with all of this.

  “Voltar had me fetch a ritual circle from his house for the purpose to have a little chat with Father Reginald’s soul,” I deadpanned. “It did not go well.”

  Gregory’s eyes widened as he stared at the window Voltar still stood in. “Why would he even begin to think that would work? Father Reginald is a devout follower and cleric of Tarver, his soul-”

  “Has two cims,” I interrupted. “Or so Vures. One from Tarver, one from the Hells. Mind you, trying to jure a soul being fought over by those two is insanity itself, matg his general ideas ohing.”

  Gregory shook his head slightly. “He told you to talk to me, didn’t he?”

  “Do not engage me in banter,” I snapped. “Right now, handling this is keeping me from a warm, fortable bed. Now, oempted neancy, it failed. If you want to inform Bishop Derrick, you are wele although Father Reginald’s soul was not harmed in the slightest.”

  “I don’t think that will assuage her mind about Voltar perf neancy,” Gregory said, crossing his arms. “I won’t question why he has such devices, or where he got permission to utilize them, but this is a trend of very ing behavior from him, stretg all the way back to the shape-ger i.”

  Ah. Right. No one had ever bothered to tell him about Tagashin and how Voltar’s more erratic behavior of the time was simply the Kitsune’s less-than-stelr impersonation of him. Both Tagashin and Voltar were lucky that Kitsune Gmours was so good at making people not question things. They’d simply thought the detective had turned into a mischievous, tactless prankster for a few weeks.

  “It’s an iing assortment of characters you’ve e to associate yourself with, Montague,” I ented. “Us, and now this gaggle of priests of other deities, some of which have the most iing pasts, from what Mister Voltar and Doctor Dawes have told me.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Really? Such as?”

  “O the head off a lich, for which I ’t really disagree,” I replied. “The one who used to shove silver spikes in my people’s eyes? That one is iing.”

  His lips thinned, his eyes tightened. “He’s not who I would have picked for this. Nor many of the others, but sometimes we are stuck w with people we would prefer not to, for various reasons.”

  “Like me,” I said.

  He sighed. “Yes, to be frank. Malvia, I ask you a question?”

  Oh, joy. The fact he felt the o ask if he could even ask one didn’t promise anything pleasant for what the question would be.

  “If it irritates me too much, I’ll just ast,” I said. “There’s nothing really holding me here.”

  “What would it take for you to do what was doo poor Father Reginald?”

  Ah. That. “I assume you don’t mean the level of power and teique to achieve su effect?”

  Gregory scowled. “Of course not.”

  “Well, I could say no, but I’m rather ined to think you wouldn’t believe me,” I said harshly. “Have I killed people in slow painful ways in the past? Yes. Would I do it now? I’d say leaving Lady Karsin to the tender mercies of those three drakes wasn’t a swift and painless end, but most would probably judge me less harshly than if I’d ripped that life cht out of her chest.”

  He was silent for a few moments. “I’m not sure what to believe. What some of your colleagues have said, what I’ve read you had a hand in, it’s not something I done.”

  “What I’ve done,” I said. “Is entirely my business, but sidering the people you live with or are currently w with, I think you entirely do.”

  “My father and some of my colleagues on this,” Gregory said drily. “No offense, but do you want to be grouped in with them.”

  My nails pressed against my palms again but I forced myself to breathe.

  “This…this isn’t productive,” I said. “I’ve been forced into this, and we aren’t….we discuss this some other time. Tomorrow, Mister Montague.”

  Not attag ‘Lord’ to his name was the biggest peace I was willing to give. From his silence, as I made my way to the carriage, I assumed it had to be.

  ***

  By the time the carriage reached my house, the temperature had plummeted as the night came. The fall of snow had only gotten worse, bing everything in a sheet of white higher than my knees now, nearly to my waist.

  I got off, with a few more s for the shivering driver, who was so swaddled in bs and peppered with snow it was hard to tell if it erson or a bundle s driving the carriage.

  After that I struggled to walk to my front door, pushing through the massive amount of snow. What the Hells was being dohat this much was allowed to nd? Had the City Mages failed in their duties? Is someone demanding a load of freshwater? Or was this just the rea of the skies to Her Majesty demanding more days when the weather’s normal patterns were forcibly altered to her preferences?

  Either way, everything below my waist felt chilled by the time I stumbled out of the door. Hells, just getting free of it immediately made me feel warmer as I stumbled up the steps.

  Despite the overwhelmio get inside my store and home, some sembnce of on sense teracted the overwhelmio immediately get inside.

  I checked my door at about knee-level critically. The little hair I’d stuck across the gap was unbroken. The are locks hadn’t shown any sign of tampering. Still, somethi off as I touched my door handle.

  Gng down, I realized what it was.

  Sighing, I retrieved the piece of part shoved deep into the gap between my door and the floor. There had been maybe a half inch of it visible, and that sigh only deepened as I brought my ntern up.

  Bck fming goat head. Hells, there was no relief tonight, was there?

  I could read it inside, where I could get a fire going and actually be warm. The chill bite of the wind hadn’t sunk into my bones quite yet.

  The door opened with a jangle, and just as swiftly I shut it, log it tightly. I hurried to the stove behind the ter, put wood in, and then lit the lot of it on fire. Cheap little thing, it would take time to fully heat up my store. Even with Intelligence’s mohere were limits to what one could afford, and instead appeared to be far more well-off than the rest of the neighborhood.

  Hells, everyohought I robably being financed by Bck Fme money already. I’d beeed to ge my face permaly after the Shapeshifter i, but I’d decided to tinue wearing it. Maybe I was just afraid if I put it away again, I’d fet it entirely.

  While I waited for the stove’s heat to fill the room, I read the letter by ntern light.

  Dearest Sister,

  As I found you to still be missing when I visited this afternoon, I have instead decided to leave this letter to perhaps rouse your curiosity. What whispers e to me from Holmsteader’s territory indicate a truly surprising number of disappearances and not ohat be dismissed as people leaving. Families disappearing in the dead of night, not to be seen again.

  All the victims are of the kind that most wouldn’t notice missing. Those who still live the worst off of us, the ones who still feel the yoke of Imperial repression the most. It is unfortuhat we are not still iimes when something may have been done about this. I will be sending my own people if needs demand I must, but I would prefer to instead have someone Holmsteader might see as less of my person go to iigate.

  I realize retioween us are strained, and some of this is my fault, but I hope you will not let that weigh on this. The people need your help Malvia, in order to be kept safe. You should not just reserve that for those who prize you as a tool above everything else.

  Stay in good health,

  You brother,

  Giovanni Versalicci

  I sighed, sidering throwing the letter in the fire. Self-aggra aside, he was clearly talking about disappearance among what were sidered the lowest still in the Quarter. Their lives sted lohan they had in the past. Enough now to notice when they were disapearing.

  My fingers crumpled the part up as a thought struck me. Diabolists. Well, one who clearly had a lot of power was on the loose, and one way tain for more power with Devils was always souls. Crap, this was worse than I thought. This was something worth looking into, although the Quarter was hardly the only pce you could abduct the poor aute and not have it be noticed.

  Something to raise with the others, but saying to e to the Quarter first…part of my balked at that. The Watch had ged, others had said, and some of the officers a coppers I’d entered had shown that, true. But the ones who used to cut my fingers off? The ones who would drag anyone caught outside the Quarter to Halspus’ temples for spikes of silver delivered to their eyes? They were still there. Just not in pces I entered them as muymore. Hells, Intelligence probably helped ehat didn’t happen so I would keep on being useful.

  How long till that ended? I might hate my bruts, but that didn’t make him wrong in all things.

  Sighing, I put the letter inside my coat pocket. The warmth of the stove was reag my bones now, warming them. This was something to handle, but not tonight. Heading out now might not be of much help, not with me tired and wanting a bed. Besides, darkness might be the Diabolist more than me. Unlike a lot of Infernals, I couldn’t see in the dark.

  Daylight. When that arrived, I’d go take a look at Holmsteader’s territory, see what I could find out. But first a night in some sheets, letting the aches and pains of the day bleed out of me.

  Something creaked behind me.

  I turned around, one hand reag inside my coat for my revolver, the other for my knife. No Diabolism till I knew who it was, and-

  Too ter, I could feel the etal of a gun’s muzzle pressed beh my shin, skin prig as they pressed inwards.

  "Not. A. Move.” A voice barked, one I knew.

  I khe face below mine, awkward as the angle was with both of the shotgun’s barrels pressed firmly against the underside of my . Slightly oblong eyes, two scars over the lips, freckles lightly dusting across the nose while scales formed a pattern along her .

  I sighed. No fortable sleep tonight. Potentially no more sleep at all.

  “Hi Alice.”