Infernal Investigations

My eyes fluttered open.

I stared up at the ceiling of my room, contours lit up by the lantern on my nightstand. The sky outside was dark, the sun long gone, and what faint light there was coming from a jury-rigged lamp someone had put in the corner now that there was occasional cart traffic. It still was out of fuel more often than not.

Noises, muttered words as I shook the sleep out of me.

"She's awake. Sir, how do you want to play this?"

"Let her awaken. We have the test. But any sudden movements, and she is to be ended."

I blinked the sleep out of my eyes, then looked around.

I'd been neatly tucked into my bed, much like in the fey realms, but there were signs I was finally out. The lack of any sounds of the sea, or the smell of salt, or any more dopplegangers here to try and talk to me.

Or perhaps it was the four people staring at me, two of them with rifles aimed at my face ever since I'd stirred. Those two were only barely familiar, two of the Intelligence agents who had helped with the ritual circle. The two not currently with weapons aimed at me were far more familiar, although I considered one of them by far the most dangerous. Some of the scarring around the one on the left was fresh around the eye, clear signs of a rushed healing job.

Dr. Dawes seemed relieved that I had woken up, which was touching, while Samuel Voltar was currently absorbed in a book he'd placed on the table.

I looked down at my arms. Not entirely blue, patterns of black and silver just like in the dream.. Fins too, stretching down, just lightly unfurled.

"Huh," I said, examining the fins, and tried to feign surprise. "Those are new."

I had no idea how much they all knew about what Tagashin had done, and I was hardly going to sell her out even by accident. Dr. Dawes, I could maybe trust to keep his mouth shut, but even that was very questionable. Where all his loyalties really lied was something I didn't know. As for Samuel Voltar and Intelligence as a whole? I'd give them as few reasons to punish Tagashin as possible.

"Ms. Harrow," Samuel said, idly turning a page. "Good of you to finally awaken. What do you remember of what occurred today?"

"I'm assuming you mean the fight with the devil," I said slowly. "Well, while the time as…whatever I became is a bit beyond me, I do remember the ending. The devil's diabolism trying to find a host inside me and my…dramatic rejection of it."

"And after Tagashin responded to your body's attempt at continued mutation by putting you to sleep, then shunting your mind off to the fey realms?"

Huh. She had told them. "The pertinent parts are that the diabolism I'd seized from the devil, as well as any excess I'd taken from that circle, tried to force the issue of my being a devil. I told them no."

Samuel did not respond, just inclining his head towards my changed form, and I sighed.

"Some measure of change was inevitable given what happened. Honestly, if not for being Infernal, it could have been much more messy."

If you didn't have natural infernal heritage, mutations from constant, unprepared use of large amounts of diabolism were fairly random. Generally, not caring if the caster survived. Which made things rather messy when it decided to split your chest open down the middle, your ribs into the teeth of a flesh-devouring maw. It didn't care that this meant all the organs you needed to live would come spilling out.

That had been a very messy weekend.

"What did happen to leave me like this?" I asked.

Doctor Dawes hesitated. "It was rather messy, are you sure?"

"Doctor, I appreciate the gesture but I have on multiple occasions rotted people's limbs off and but their throats out," I said. "No need to spare me the gory details."

He paused, then nodded. "Your flesh started sloughing off as soon as you passed out. Liquified into a foul-smelling gelatinous substance that has been disposed of. Divine magic. What was left was initially you, but within seconds, your body was changing. Bones pushed out of flesh, additional limbs, other…changes. Tagashin arrived then and intervened, which resulted in you stabilizing into this current form, and she said that the best thing was to take you somewhere you'd be comfortable."

A bit icky, but nothing I couldn't live with. After a long bath. A few long baths.

"One thing needs to be determined before we talk any longer," Samuel said, closing the book after marking his spot, finally considering me with eyes devoid of any emotion.

"Whether I've become a devil," I said, inclining my head towards the two stony-faced agents. "I see resolution is ready and waiting. There's a test prepared?"

"Doctor Dawes?"

"If you could let me draw just a little bit of blood Ms. Harrow?" Dr. Dawes asked me, pulling out a syringe slowly, as if afraid I'd attack.

Then again, if I was a devil, I very well might.

"Certainly," I said, keeping my own movements slow as I presented an arm. "Veins are all in the same spots as normal. I think."

The process was very quick, the doctor finding a patch of skin without any scales and drew a syringe full of blood. Not that the scales would have presented too much trouble to him. I focused on that, keeping my eyes off the other three in the room. I was certain that the chance of killing me over being a devil was nothing. The chance of me having become very close to one meaning death was…less certain.

Dr. Dawes quickly withdrew the syringe, dabbed it with alcohol and I helped him tighten the bandage while he started getting more tools out. Starting with a sealed cup of water.

A soon as he opened it, my nose twitched. The slight scent coming off the water lightly burned, the insides of my nostrils feeling like I'd dug at them with a needle. Blessed water.

I didn't react to it, holding myself still in case a single errant twitch ended poorly. They kept it away, instead Doctor Dawes set up a long beaker, pouring the sample of my blood in. A few other tools, a stopwatch, a ruler, some devices who I were definitely arcane in nature and not ones I'd ever seen before. One of them started humming lightly immediately.

"Ah, probably not going to be useful," he said, putting it back. "Even if I left the room, this entire house is contaminated."

Contaminated. I didn't know if I agreed or not, suspecting that the device tracked diabolism levels.

He grabbed some tongs, laid out some other devices, then put the water in the tongs, and a second later let a drop of my blood fall inside.

The water bubbled and frothed, shining a brilliant white that might my eyes narrow and tears well up. My tail moved in between me and it, fins extending to block out the light. The outside edges of them felt like they were being dug at with a very blunt fork, and I forced my discomfort down until the light had faded.

"Extent of the reaction is higher than I'd expect for most Infernals," Dr. Dawes said clinically, putting the now calm cup of holy water down. To my relief, he almost immediately resealed it. "Far, far below that of an actual devil, though. Luminescence is too low, and it didn't even bubble over the top of the cup."

Tension didn't leak out of anyone in the room. I moved my gaze to a still very casual Samuel Voltar, seemingly absorbed in the book. I stilled as he'd lifted it and now I could see the cover. Blue in color, with a cover of very detailed picture of two women and a man on the cover in rather less clothing than polite society said was appropriate, posing on top of the deck of a ship.

The bastard was reading my copy of the Pirates of Penzone. Even worse, he'd moved the bookmark.

I turned a suddenly wrathful gaze on Dr. Dawes who held up his hands innocently.

"I did not say a thing," he protested. "Mr. Voltar simply knows how to ferret things out and wanted something to read."

Yes, but you had a book already, I thought, turning my attention to Samuel.

"I remembered your spot," he assured me. "And while I don't understand why you hid it under a floorboard."

Primarily because I didn't want people to know I read things like that. Curses. Actually, now that I was thinking of it, why couldn't I have had some of my fantasies inspired by that show up inside my head?

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"So," I said cautiously. "Is being below a devil enough to get these guns lowered, or is there any other tests we need?"

Samuel snapped his fingers, and the rifles were reluctantly put down. Assholes, they seemed disappointed not to shoot me. I'd probably saved their lives earlier today.

"You are well within what we consider tolerance," Samuel Voltar told me. "You seem a bit surprised by that?"

"Before I passed out, I was nine feet tall, with multiple limbs, could create copies of myself, and was probably a devil," I replied. "To say that this test puts that all too bed seems a bit strange."

"To say your journey down a path like this is too far for Intelligence would be lying," Samuel told me. "Honestly? There are people employed by us further past that line than I prefer, and you trouble me not a bit."

"Devil," I pointed out.

"Her Majesty tolerates things as long as they are out of sight," Samuel said. "Especially when they are still considered at the fixable stage."

Fixable likely meant still killable without a large number of casualties.

"We will insist on examinations by experts of our choosing to figure out exactly what happened," Samuel said. "So there will in fact be other tests."

I nodded. Even if that wasn't an order, I wouldn't have refused. In all honesty, I wanted to know myself.

"Well," I said. "If I'm not to have my head chopped off tonight, is it too much to ask someone bring me a cup of tea?"

There were a number of them around the room, slight steam coming off of them, so there clearly was a freshly brewed pot.

A brief nod from Samuel, and one of the Intelligence agents left, coming back with a piping hot cup.

Cautious sips to start. Even if they'd been mutated and warped by today's events, I was certain my taste buds had not forgotten the taste of Hennisons from earlier. Ah. Grayduke. Not a kind I could usually afford, probably from one of Intelligence's people instead.

Small doses, each one blissful as I savored every taste. Maybe the Xang had a point about me being addicted. A cleared throat had me take pause a third of the way through the cup.

Right, I thought as Samuel Voltar kept that level gaze on me, just a hint of impatience coloring his face. Probably had better things to do

"What happened while I was out?" I asked the two of them.

"No other killings," Samuel answered. "My brother is of the mindset that the killers are lying low, although for now, he is uncertain what they hope to gain from it. For right now, he is following up on that list of members of the various church programs. Orders for now from me are to help him from that angle."

Something I'd like an answer to as well. Why were the killers slowing down at least? I already suspected I knew why Intelligence would prefer a slower pace.

"Your street is currently cordoned off by the Watch, to the great displeasure of your neighbors," Samuel told me, and internally I sighed. "No one else has ventured close since the incident this afternoon. Tagashin has taken watch over your house, while of the other players, the Bishops and my brother, have been following their own leads this entire afternoon. No real success that anyone has shared yet."

I idly let the fin extend, pulling it back in, and then twirled a lock of hair with silver mixed in. Despite its metallic appearance, it hadn't lost any flexibility.

"You don't seem very dismayed," Doctor Dawes noted.

"I got a chance to see it first before waking up," I replied. "And it's not unusual, just not a regular occurrence."

Most Infernals never handled enough diabolic power for it to warp and empower their heritage from the Hells, but some change was expected if you used it regularly enough. It was not this dramatic most times. For Infernals.

"My own changes gave me a thought. Whoever is fronting the efforts to kill off their targets might not be as restrained in their diabolism use as others would be," I told them. "And if they aren't Infernal, well, there might be effects. If they came into a massive amount of power naturally, without any knowledge of how to safely handle it."

"You think we are dealing with a savant?" Samuel said. "The third way one can become a diabolist. Why do you think the churches would search for those, instead of people with some diabolic in their lineage?"

"I'm sure the people who were recruited for the program were those," I told him. "Whoever the killer is, though, has far, far too much power for someone who has only been training for as long as they claim this program has gone on for. Either this program has continued on far longer than they claimed, or someone is naturally gifted beyond just some long-forgotten ancestry from a diabolist or infernal."

Those were the most common, because diabolism stuck to the blood like a tick, unwilling to let go. If your ancestor had practiced diabolism, you probably could too. Sometimes it needed a little kick, but it was always there. The issue was, unless you traced your lineage to a devil, you didn't start with any great power or grasp on diabolism.

"You don't favor a deal?" Samuel asked me.

"No, a deal definitely could be on the table, albeit there are issues when you're already working for another," I said. "If one's deal invalidates the other, or conflict, it could get very messy."

"Would they have to be different devils?" Doctor Dawes asked.

I frowned. Now would be a good time for the Imp to say something, but it remained quiet. Lazy bastard, for all it criticized that Sloth devil's choice of sin.

"Not necessarily," I said, hedging my bet. "It could have offered power upfront in order to have its scheme work, but if it needs to put in the additional work to get its agents up to task, it might have doubts about their ability to actually fulfill their end. Why invest power into an already risky bet?"

"Most people aren't that cautious, or the casinos your friend Holmsteader runs wouldn't be profitable," Samuel Voltar said, and I bristled. Had…he just assumed we were friends because I'd gotten information out of her? That we were both Infernals?

"Besides, if one looks at the long game, they certainly seem to be ahead so far," Samuel noted. "Assuming they bothered to make backups for the ritual circles we've taken."

A frighteningly disturbing possibility, given the number of dead each had contained so far.

"Long-term plans don't involve suddenly attacking a Baltaren church," I pointed out. "Or halting it when you should not."

The assault on Baltaren's church was the keystone to all of this in a few different ways. For one, it gave us a floor on what the killer was capable of. A very high floor.

"They might have ritually prepared each spell they used, or had long enough practice to avoid the costs," I said. "But a sudden mutation making them unable to go to their targets openly might be the reason the killings have stopped for now."

"It's entirely possible the killer was injured in that attack," Doctor Dawes pointed out. "It would explain the lack of kills afterwards. Battlefields are chaotic beasts by nature. A priest managing a blow and not realizing it is possible."

Also true. Irritated that my flash of insight had already been skewered, I went back to my tea.

"It's all theories anyway," I admitted, then drained my cup. "More information needed in all cases."

I'd also thought of another hole as well, that most Savants burned their souls and bodies out fast from the combination of no experience and vast diabolic power. They drew too deep because they didn't know better. However, if they had hooked up with this group pretty far in the past, she might have gotten the proper training after all.

Although even with training, the Baltaren assault would have been excessive.

"Yes," Samuel said. "Although I do have one more question, about waysto study diabolism. The Arcane is capable of unlocking other forms of magic and wielding them if one is skilled enough and practices. Is it possible our killer trained that way?"

"Definitely not," I said. "You're right in that it can happen, but if you're studying Diabolism to that extent, you could easily master other disciplines to a much higher ability. If you're using the Arcane ways of learning to conjure Diabolism, you're using the Arcane to rip a hole to the Hells, then bringing Diabolism through. Not to mention, once you've done so, you're dealing with a much more chaotic and dangerous power source than most arcane magic. It's possible. It's also possible to dig a hole with a fork. That doesn't make it practical."

"And if someone were to wield that much diabolical power via the arcane, we'd be talking a master of the arts?"

I thought on it, trying to guess based on what I did know of the ranks inside the various collected societies and guilds of arcane mages. "Closer to grandmaster. A head of a guild. I think. Vesper would be a better person to ask."

The hells was he doing, trying to drag more potential suspects into this? What did he know I didn't?

"And that can wait until tomorrow," Samuel told me. "While I appreciate that your first instinct is to try and help figure this out, Miss Harrow, many of us are tired and due for sleep of our own. Especially your guests?"

"My guests?"

"Several individuals are currently downstairs that I will continue pretending are not who they appear to be, for the sake of keeping the peace," Samuel told me. "Mind you, I think some of them are looking for an excuse to leave, but I believe in thanking people who have aided me personally. I prefer my subordinates to follow the same course."

'Keeping the peace'? Certainly, and definitely not looking to recruit at least two of them into Intelligence as whatever Tagashin and I were considered. Definitely not agents. Was he also angling to get Arsene via entangling Tolman in this? People capable of forging enchanted metal were far more common than diabolists.

"I'll head right down, and then I agree on getting some rest-"

A shrieked curse in a language I was familiar with interrupted me, followed by the sound of fireworks and further shrieking, then a familiar cackle.

Dr. Dawes and Samuel Voltar joined me in staring at the ceiling as the cursing continued, increasing in volume, vitriol, and then nastiness of the insults hurled against their target.

"Tagashin mentioned your family was currently hunting her?" Samuel asked mildly as a muffled explosion slightly shook my roof.

"Yes," I sighed, steadying the teacup before it could fall off the edge. "I didn't think they'd actually manage to find her."

"They probably were drawn by the events earlier," Dr. Dawes noted, moving to open the window.

Opening brought in chill air and a much louder voice, definitely Aunt Diwei's, cursing all fey spirits and their realms. Another shriek, a familiar laugh, and now the threats were to find the most magical tree in the empire and burn it to the ground.

"I think even the most ardent of industrialists would hesitate before so eagerly threatening the Old Heart of Benthem Forest," Samuel said casually.

"Well, you can hardly accuse my aunt of restraint," I said, sticking my head out. Some kind of light was bursting atop the rooftops on this street, barely visible figures flying in between them. "Or subtlety. Or an ability to keep quiet."

If it wasn't diabolists, priests, or old enemies that forced me out of my house, it was going to be my neighbors. First the Ritual Circle, then the devil, now this. Oh, and two different visits from notorious crime bosses. At least no one sane should have been up and outside to see the second visit from Versalicci.

"Indeed, she seems very single-minded. Your other family members have more restraint?"

"We could let Tagashin handle this," Doctor Dawes said. "It does sound like she has it well in hand, and I doubt she will kill any of them."

"No," Samuel said firmly. "I will not have them angry and full of bile and looking to interfere in this come tomorrow."

I agreed, if more because of the slim chance they actually harmed Tagashin. The wily old fox was definitely wily, but so could the aunts. This was mildly confusing. Diwei was many things I despised, but I could never gainsay her skills as a hunter of dangerous magical beasts. Something had thrown her off her game.

"The others having more restraint?" Samuel prompted me again.

"They are more sane than she, yes," I muttered.

"That is a relief. Well, when dealing with them, you could tell your aunts that attacking members of Intelligence is something Her Majesty would prefer not to be done?" Samuel asked me.

I blinked, then gave him a rueful little grin. "Barely woken up from Devil-hunting and already being put to work?"

"No rest in service to Queen and Country," Samuel Voltar said. "Speaking of which, I wish to simply take a nightcap and go to sleep, so please handle this with the minimum amount of fuss."

Well, minimum fuss for me perhaps. For everyone else, I couldn't guarantee I would try as hard.