Saithorthepyro
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Chapter 46 - Bearings V
🕑 Added 2025-05-12 04:19:44 +0000 UTCI paused only a moment to see the burned-down wreckage of Tyler’s house. A few skeletal remnants of the walls still stood, charred and blackened around a central mass of charcoal and seared wood. I gave it a dispassionate appraisal. It looked like everything on the interior had burnt to charred wood, and probably the basement with it.
Looking a little outside, there were signs of other damage spread about, blackened chunks of wood, but more importantly entire sections of building were just gone. It was rough, there was still debris sticking out of the snow where entire walls had been brought down.
Entire chunks of buildings had been removed, damaged parts sawn around and then taken away. Someone had gone to a lot of effort to clear up the damage. Not all of it though. Tyler’s house had the charred wood remnants of it piled up in the center, but taking a closer look, sections of cobbled-together wood were reaching out, formed into primitive arms, dull veins of red inside.
Motionless, though. Entirely possible that some random druid had been involved in this instead of a diabolist. Likely? Probably not.
A lone Infernal was nearby, up against a neighboring house, rubbing her hands together as she pulled her thick winter coat tight. Likely a sentry posted by Holmsteader. Probably had decided to take some cover from the snow falling down.
The missing sections extended up and down the entire street. How much diabolism had been spilled on this street last night? How many people had Holmstader mobilized in order to get all this taken down?
This was going to take longer than I thought.
I felt for the diabolism I’d left inside the Infernal from before. I could sense it far off, definitely somewhere back on Glee Street proper.
So, back to Holmsteader and feeding her what I’d said. Hopefully enough to buy us a little time. Still, we wouldn’t have much.
I went back around the corner, stumbling as if drunk, as I made my way back towards the others.
Shite. Okay, I needed to check this out, if only to make sure Diabolism had been involved. That could mean either Melissa or some of the other Diabolists involved in this may be trying to secure something from Tyler’s house. Probably the ritual circle, which meant we needed to get that thing the hells out of my house as soon as possible.
Still. Needed to check this, only one person on the street that I saw. Probably not the only person, not if they’d cleared out the entire street.
I took mental stock of what I had as I made my way back to the others. I’d brought duplicates of most of my elixirs, just to be safe, but that had been a single backup. Not enough for a group of four, or even three if I excluded Marat. Two potions each for everything except the Alchemist’s fire, and most of these had been for sneaking around or sensory augmentation, not direct combat. Ironskin, which hurt to use considering the expense, but nothing else helped handle blows like it. Blurring was another option, albeit one that didn’t work as well with people trained to aim for the center of mass. As for fast regenerative potions, I’d spent all of those over the last few days. The ones I had on me now would close wounds, dull pain, and start the process of healing, but they weren’t truly regenerative. Still wondrous, but not enough to save your life from a lethal gunshot wound.
I had not brought any knockout glass spheres with me. Mostly because I still needed to make replacements for the ones used the night before. Hells, I’d been over here just the night before, killing Tyler myself. What a disaster of a week so far.
I made it over to where the others were gathered. No one else had come up yet. Probably knew now was not a good time to be here. I should have asked around before doing this, but time was always in short supply, wasn’t it?
“Tyler’s house has been burned down,” I told them quietly. “I don’t think anyone saw me, but there’s at least one guard out front, probably more scattered throughout the street. Diabolism was definitely involved.”
Tolman cursed, Marat paled, and Gregory tried to sneak a glance at the street before catching himself.
“You’re sure?”
“Tyler’s house itself looks like either that or a druid tried crafting a treant out of it,” I said. “Also, chunks of the buildings have been removed. As in sawn off or otherwise separated and taken away. Probably Holmsteader’s effort at hiding this. Business goes down when customers hear about diabolism ruining a street not so far away. Or when the authorities get involved because of it. Hells, I threatened her with that idea just yesterday.”
“What?” Gregory asked, eyes narrowing. “No wait, I don’t want to know. Are you certain diabolists are involved?”
“Depends,” I said. “There’s a tiny chance Holmsteader decided to burn down the house herself to try and burn any trace of what Tyler did. Doesn’t explain why she’d remove chunks of other people’s houses. If there are other diabolists involved in this mess who say, were trying to destroy any of the evidence, or recover the ritual circle.”
“Why would there be others?” Gregory asked. “You determined he was involved with the murders? And others are working for him?”
“Yes and yes,” I said quickly. “I’ll explain how later, the point is we need-”
“What are you talking about?” Tolman interrupted. “Murders? Ritual circle?”
I glared at him. This was a tricky spot to be in, needing hands to help, but of the three available, only one was already involved, and I’d just delivered a scathing diatribe to. One was only here because I was paying, and probably going to demand more money for getting involved in this. Then there was Tolman, who was not involved, not being paid, and literally was only here because he’d stumbled on this.
“If you want the story, we can see about that when we get done,” I told him. “I’ll pay you in the meantime, a fair rate. Or, you can just leave.”
Tolman was silent for a second, while I considered my own options to what he said. Was it worth potentially having someone who would report to Versalicci along? If it meant having someone I could rely on in a pinch, as opposed to Gregory or Marat..maybe. The worst-case scenario was him finding out where Melissa was and relaying that to Versalicci. That could be manageable.
“I want to at least know what mess is going on this time,” Tolman said. “If you’re willing to have an extra pair of hands help.”
“Fine,” I said. “Marat, I want you to work your way outside this street to the other side, to keep an eye out for anyone approaching this section. Tolman, Gregory, we’re handling Holmsteader’s people, then figuring out what happened here.”
Gregory coughed uncomfortably. “By ‘handle’, you mean what precisely?”
“Alive,” I said tersely. “I want someone left so we can talk to them about what happened, and I’m not going to piss off Holmsteader more than I need to.”
“Okay,” he said, nodding slightly. “If I sneak up on one, I can maybe handle that?”
‘Maybe’ was doing a lot of work there. “Tolman, you're good being the distraction?”
He sighed. “I suppose. I can handle it if someone tries coming at me with a blade. With a gun?”
Yeah. I needed to get Intelligence to start paying me for resources used for things like this. I pulled a quartet of vials from the protected pocket inside my coat.
“Here,” I said, handing Tolman and Gregory two potions apiece. “Ironskin. Don’t think it makes you bullet-proof, it’ll blunt the impact, but it’ll still pierce skin. So don’t slow down.”
“You think this is a good idea?” Tolman said. “We’re not even going to try this the stealthy way?”
“No time,” I said. “My little misdirection, if it even worked, buys us a little time. Not enough for you and me to work our way through this entire street. We’re on a tight time limit, no time to do this the proper way. The second potion is displacement. Do this when you’re about to get on the street proper, not after. It’s illusion-based, blurs, and expands your outer form. It’ll make you a harder target, but it’ll last less time than the ironskin. Again, just before you come into sight, you do not want to risk trying to down the potion while running.”
Well, there was the syringe I had on my person, safely tucked into a cotton-lined case, but they shouldn’t need that.
“One little dose of health for each of you,” I said, passing two more vials. “Two spares for me. Those won’t work well, they’ll close wounds and help a little bit with your internals. If you get seriously hurt, I’ll see what I can do with Sculpting when we’re done, but we cannot stay long. Tolman, give me ten minutes to find those of them that I can, then make your way down the street. I’ll yell for one, go for the other, Gregory can handle the one near the house.”
“And if there’s more than three?” Tolman asked.
I hesitated for a second. Depending on how close…no, don’t play stupid games in the hope of greater reward.
“If I detect more than three, you walk to the end of the street, meet up with Gregory, and meet back by the cart. If it’s too risky, I'll come back here with something she can’t say no to.”
“Watch?” Gregory asked me, getting a raised eyebrow from Tolman.
“No,” I said in a falsely sweet tone. “I just figured I’d let Bishop Gallaspie know that Holmsteader had a Diabolist in her employ. And that he was charging a ritual circle up with sacrificed souls. And preparing flesh-shells to summon devils into. Then just watch the fireworks go off.”
Tolman looked shocked, and more than a little fearful. “Gallaspie? You’re working with that maniac?”
“More like tolerating under protest,” I said. “I figure the threat of him might open up Holmsteader a little. I just need enough backup that she doesn’t have me shot on sight.”
Gregory nodded reluctantly. “The bishop is certainly threatening, and not very likely to entertain any…well anything. From an Infernal. What did you mean by ‘flesh-shell’?”
“Just another term for the corpses he was making into vessels,” I said quickly, covering for my accidental use of the Queen of Masks’ term. “Shell of flesh, protecting from the outside world.”
In this case, at least. In my case, it referred to a soul gone to the hells purifying itself of the last taint of mortal, shedding what it thought it had been-I shook my head. Enough of those thoughts.
“Let’s not stall any further. Remember Tolman, ten minutes.”
There weren’t many of Holmsteader’s people here, and they’d gone to a lot of effort making it look like a fight with diabolism hadn’t occurred. Why station people at all, outside of maybe keeping anyone you kicked out gone? No, she’d let them back eventually, most of the people who lived here were her employees, and not the grunt workers like Jones and Marat.
They’d be here to observe and see who showed up. Because from Holmsteader’s perspective? She’d been fearing a takeover by Versalicci before this, then I showed up, and now whatever had caused this. She’d be on the defensive, trying to figure out the proper target before sinking a dagger in. Hopefully not me. I had enough enemies.
I walked slowly, glad that the wind wasn’t blowing as I listened.
I’d tuned my hearing some. Not too much, because if you made them too sensitive, sudden loud noises could be distracting or worse, debilitating. Not good when firearms make plenty of noise just being shot. I was still a little susceptible to them, but not by much.
I couldn’t hear breathing through the walls. Definitely not from all over this street. I could hear movements though, the crunch of snow, the creaking of floorboards, the shifting of roofing underfoot.
That last one gave me an initial target. There was one other source of noise besides the one sentry they’d posted in the open, moving slightly on a rotting floorboard just enough to make a squeak. Holed up in a house somewhere. I could also hear the sound of a knife carving something? Wood? Tolman could handle that. Gregory could hopefully handle the one in the open. That left the one up on the roof for me, since I had the head start.
I made for the back of that house, eyeing the back of the house. There were handholds, but going up there without alerting the person involved would be difficult. Even if I had another ball of silence on me, it wouldn’t last long enough to scramble up.
I began to shuck my coat with a sigh. Rustling from that would give me away, or at least more than my shirt and trousers. I shivered as the cold air touched my arms. Neither Tolman nor Gregory should comment on the new patterns of scales. Small enough, they should just think they hadn’t noticed them before.
Moving up quietly took time, time I didn’t really have, but I didn’t rush.
Short, shallow breaths as I got onto the roof. Slow movements to keep the crunching of snow minimal. I’d have to be careful up here. Footing would be treacherous. When was the last one someone swept this roof?
The watcher was near the edge, on her stomach, and wrapped up in a white blanket. Cover, and a way to keep warm. Something I envied as I tried not to shiver. I kept my distance, not wanting to give myself away. I could see the street, including the building where the last watcher was. Deep inside, quietly whittling away at something. One of the intact ones, yellow-framed windows.
Tolman was down there, halfway across the street. Good, he was close to the second one.
I crept closer, getting ready when something snapped. Startled, I glanced down to see my hoof had gone through the snow into an abandoned bird’s nest.
I ran forward, but the sentry had already gotten out of her blanket, a hatchet in hand. I drew my saber, barely catching an axe blow.
“Tolman one more across the street in the house! Yellow framed windows,” I screamed.
The sentry swung her axe again, stopping me from confirming Tolman had heard. I moved back. I kept a healthy distance between the two of us.
She rushed forward, and I blocked the next axe strike with my saber. My revolver raised, aiming for her knee. Her tail slapped it away. My own tail lashed out, grappling with hers as her other hand stabbed toward my stomach.
I dropped the revolver. My now free hand grabbed her wrist, pulling it to the side. The knife went just off-target, cutting along my coat but not touching flesh. She pulled the axe back. It yanked on my blade, hooking my saber. I kept my grip and tried to bite her outstretched arm.
She rammed the side of my head with her horns. I reeled back. My grip on my saber weakened, pulled out of my gasp. The knife tried to close on my side again.
Snarling, I grabbed her by the throat, then stepped off the side of the roof, and dragged her into falling with me.
A chaotic second of punches and elbows as we struggled to get the other on the bottom as we plummeted. I went back first into the snow, gritting my teeth as I hit the solid ground. Ragged breaths as I got to my feet, my upper back feeling like someone had hit me with a hammer. Still, couldn’t wait as I got ready to continue the fight.
Unneeded, and I winced as I saw the Infernal I’d taken off the roof. She’d not hit the ground, instead landing ribs first on an old abandoned hitching post. The wood had shattered, and now she lay curled up on the ground. Breathing shallow, pained breaths, she tried to move only to stop, face scrunched up in pain.
“Don’t move,” I told her, both as a warning and advice for her likely broken ribs. My revolver lay on the ground nearby, having fallen off the roof with us. I scoped it up, then stumbled off down the street.
A window shattered, an Infernal screaming as he flew out, his purple suit torn as he landed on the wooden walkway. Tolman leaned out, breathing heavily, cuts across his face, two of them deep and over his eyes.
The other Infernal was up, knives in hand, just in time for me to cock the hammer on my revolver.
He whirled around, responding to the new threat I posed. Just in time for Tolman’s fist to connect with his jaw. I darted forward, ducking underneath a panicked swing, my saber slicing at his ankle.
It cut deep, slicing till I felt it hit bone, and I pulled back. The Infernal collapsed, hands wrapped just above their hoof, and it was all the opening Tolman needed.
As he wrapped the other Infernal into a hold, I continued past, to where Gregory struggled with the last sentry. He was on top of her, hands grappling, no, trying to cover her face as she flailed and screamed underneath him. His forearm was bleeding, silk sleeve soaked with blood.
He looked around, eyes wild til they found me.
“Help!”
I rushed over, cursing as I saw her face. Her skin didn’t even look like skin anymore, a charred mess. Her lips had sealed together, her nose half-sunk into her face, her eyelids shut as tears poured out of the corners.
“Please!” Gregory said, trying to hold her down. “I already tried to give her my vial, but she smashed it and there’s nowhere to pour and-”
“Keep her still,” I yelled, getting one of my own vials out of my coat along with the syringe. My tail retrieved my knife.
“How much Light did you pour out?” I asked, grabbing my knife. “Hold her head as still as you can, she’s not going to like this.”
He did his best, babbling out about how he’d only really used it to heal and hadn’t really throttled it before, and how she had a knife against his throat. She flailed, but it was still enough. I sliced the melted flesh of her lips first, opening an airway. Not for the potion, though, which I hurriedly was pouring into the syringe. I couldn’t just feed her this directly, she’d frigging choke trying to draw air. Instead, I went for the jugular.
Gregory had enough wherewithal to notice. “What are you doing-?”
I pushed the needle inside, getting another scream from the infernal. Shite. I’d missed because of the gloves. My second try was on target. Slow push on the syringe, feeding the potion in. Direct feeding to the main artery should help some, hopefully kickstart the healing process to an extent. It wouldn’t help much.
She stilled some, the pain dulling. Tears still welled, pushed out of the corner of her eyes, but less than before. Her eyelids were sealed, only allowed out at the corner.
“What happened?” I asked Gregory as I pulled a bandage out. Putting it over the needle, I put pressure on. Needle out, not just to hold it for a little bit. “Also, get me some fabric we can wrap over this and hold it in place.”
He started, looked around, then tore the bloodied silk sleeve off his own shirt. I frowned as he passed it over. He had been working out, definition all over his arm, definitely larger but..something was off.
“She noticed me running up,” he said, breaking me out of my thought. Stop trying to think about his workout routine Malvia! “I tried to get my arm around her neck, but she bit it. Next thing I know, she’s lunging forward, trying to her teeth in my throat and I..panicked and did this.”
“Arm,” I said, gesturing towards it. “There’s nothing else I can do for her. Let’s make sure you don’t get infected.”
He was reluctant to lay it out in front of me, and looking it over, I could tell why. The Hells had he taken to make it grow like this? Something..something to discuss later. Never, actually, I wasn’t his keeper. I got a flask from my hip, pouring the contents over his arm.
“It’ll sting a little,” I said as he winced. “Bandage it up with your other sleeve, then we’re going to move her.”
“Can you heal her with sculpting?” Gregory asked me, rubbing his alcohol covered arm before ripping his other sleeve off.
“No,” I said, feeling for a pulse on the side of her neck. “I need consent from the active mind. Bodies naturally feel when magic tries to affect them, and resist it if the mind isn’t willing. If I had maybe a decade more experience and study devoted to it, I could force changes without the struggle between me and the body tearing her insides to shreds.”
The pulse was there, steady but very, very faint. There was no telling what damage the Light had done as it had scoured her face, but there wasn’t anything else I could do.
“Will she live?” He asked me quietly.
“I..don’t know,” I admitted. “I could check with the biosculpting, see how deep the damage goes, but do you want to know?”
He looked at the other Infernal, lost in thought, and I decided not to say anything else related to it.
“Get underneath her shoulders.” I said, standing up, then stumbling a little. That fall had taken more out of me than I’d thought.
We carried her as carefully as we could to where Tolman had the other two. The one he’d been fighting was completely out, the sentry I tumbled off the roof with was still up and breathing shallow breaths. We set the other one down with them, and the sentry from the roof glared at Gregory.
“The hells did you do to Carrie, clotheshorse?” she said spitefully.
“I fed her the potion you gave me,” Tolman said casually. “Figure you wanted one of them able to talk, and she could barely speak.”
“Broken ribs will do that,” I said, sitting down cross-legged across from her. She glared spitefully at me.
Gregory was up against the wall, staring mutely at the Infernal he’d burnt, her breathing shallow. Haunted look, not well suited for someone who’d killed far more than this. Clearly I needed to get his mind off of it, because I did not want to add managing him to the list of things I had to do.
“Gregory,” I said. “Do me a favor? My coat is behind the houses. Fetch it before I freeze to death, please?”
That shocked him, or at least drew his eyes to me instead. He nodded once, then stumbled off.
“So,” I said, turning to face the sentry. “What’s your name?”
“Fuck. Off.” She snarled.
“You know,” I replied casually. “You can tell when people are new to this. It’s when they insist on bravado when they have no cards. They never seem to consider accepting when you lack any good plays, and the best move is to go along with things. So, we’ll restart, and if you don’t give me an answer that isn’t a slur or oath, I’ll put a bullet in your leg.”
She almost said something else, but seemed to reconsider it.
“I’m not joking,” I said politely. “The one person who would object to it is gone. But in all honesty, I don’t want to do it. I’d rather we have a simple exchange of information where we both benefit, than I leave you three to get some medical attention. I just want to know what happened here.”
Her eyes flickered to Tolman, who was stone-faced.
“Emily,” she said. “But I can’t tell you anything, the boss will have my hide-”
She cut off as I raised my hand.
“Listen,” I said. “Holmsteader is never going to hear what you spilled or didn’t spill. If she even cares. At this point, she probably wants this mess out of her hands as much as possible. You tell us what I want to know, I put you back to sleep, as far as your buddies are concerned, you were knocked out just the same as them. So?”
The Infernal considered her options, nervously nibbling on her lower lip and letting some blood drip.
“Why should I?” she said. “Even discounting my boss, why tell you anything?”
I eyed the surrounding damage, the diabolism scorched wood. How much effort had gone into cutting this back, making it look even a little bit presentable?
“Simple enough reason,” I said. “Guessing whatever happened here wasn’t pleasant. Probably less pleasant than that hitching post you took to the chest.”
She coughed weakly, lips quirking. “Fuck you for that by the way. Every word is pain.”
“Eh,” I said. “Hardly the worst thing to take. And the sooner you tell me what I want, the less we have to talk. Point is, I have a vested interest in the people who did this taking a nap underground in a cheap pine box.”
“And I’m supposed to just believe that?” She said. “You all fucking just torched Carrie.”
“Carrie might pull through,” I said. “But yeah, one of the people with me did. Do you want an apology? She was trying to bite his throat. Just like you tried to put a knife in my belly. Like I tried putting a bullet in your knee. But if you want to frame it like that, the question turns into this; How long until your people get here?”
She chewed on that a little bit, and I filled the silence.
“We did want you three to stay alive. I really don’t want to make enemies out of you or your boss. However Donald Tyler decided to get himself involved in things he damn well knew he shouldn’t have and brought it on your heads. Want someone to blame, blame him.”
Emily snorted. “Yeah, well, he’s dead. Easy to blame the dead man.”
“Easier still when you’re the one who shot him,” I agreed. “So, are you willing to tell us the story?”
She sighed. “Promise Holmsteader won’t find out?”
“Not from us.”
She chewed on that a second more before starting to speak.
“They got the damn thing out of the basement last night,” Emily said. “I was here for that. Had to wrap it up in blankets and all kinds of shite, she didn’t want anyone touching it with their hands. It started shrieking the moment they got it out of the basement, but those helped muffle it a little. Got a chill, asked to go home. Saved my life, because later that night, they came. Most everyone was working except the posted guards, so no one in the houses when they struck. A couple of our people managed to hole up. Hid, kept themselves alive so they could tell us some of what happened. One, maybe two groups came here.”
I raised an eyebrow. “One or two?”
“Yeah,” she continued. “The ones who lived weren’t sure. They mostly survived by hiding, not trying to watch what was going on. Someone had gotten inside the house, a single person. The people posted inside recognized them, yelled something about Versalicci. That’s when the other struck. Three, four of them, spraying fire all over the place, making people rot til their skin burst. Guards killed two of them and we got the corpses later. Had identifying marks on them.”
“Black flame tattoos?” I asked her, and she nodded.
“Interesting that Versalicci’s people are asking about it,” she said, gaze meeting me squarely.
My lips quirked. Once a member, always a member, in others’ minds, if not in truth.
“Believe what you will on that front,” I said. “Anything else?”
“Not much,” she admitted. “Two who survived didn’t hear much after the combat died down. Didn’t try venturing out to see what was going on. Just wanted to stay alive.”
“Don’t we all,” I muttered. “Tolman, please tie Emily up? Not too tightly, just enough, she’s not going to break her bindings the moment we leave her alone?”
A bit of protest from Emily, but nothing too much as she let Tolman tie her up while I got ready to enter the house. Gregory returned, mutely returning my coat, which I gladly took. It was cold from it’s time in the snow, and I still shivered, but it helped.
Holmsteader’s people had picked every part of this clean except for the wreckage of Tyler’s house. Not the easiest thing to search, but it was the only option left to me.
“You two keep watch out there,” I told Tolman and Gregory.
“More hands mean this goes faster,” Tolman said.
“I know what I’m looking for and I don’t want Holmsteader sneaking up on us,” I said, then inclined my head slightly towards Gregory.
He leaned against the nearby wall, still quiet. Not in any condition to go through the infernally tainted remnants of the house.
I traded a look with Tolman, and he nodded slightly. He’d keep an eye on, maybe coax a little life out of Gregory. I didn’t need him to be unresponsive if something else happened.
I turned my attention to the house.
The mass of wood occupied a lot of it, charred and burnt wood formed into s solid, contiguous mass. Corming claws and hands of wood were frozen, pulling at the floor or grasping at the air. At the edge was something that caught my eye.
A single hole, just big enough for me to squeeze through. The stench of rot and death wafted out of it. My nostrils burned and my stomach churned as I got close. There was the faintest whisper coming from there, barely a murmur.
Still in the basement, I could see the rotting, carved-up corpses, piled up in the basement. The little bit of light coming in made it hard to see, but I could…see enough.
Every one of them was facing the hole. Almost as if trying to crawl out. Lifeless eyes staring, limbs outstretched towards me. And that murmur grew only louder.
I moved back quickly, breathing fast. The whispers faded, and my hand went inside my jacket. I had some alchemist’s fire, but no, that wouldn’t help either, would it? Burn it to ash? And when that diabolically tainted ash drifted off on the wind? Mixed with the falling snow?
“Idiots,” I said angrily, kicking the side of the building. It groaned, not just wood but something else, and my hand went to my focus.
Careful, The Imp spoke up. It’s not formed yet. But even as spawn, you move inside your mothers, do you not?
Point taken. I’d have to move more of this mess, but perhaps not too harshly.
“Malvia?” Tolman asked.
“They left the bodies,” I said. “All of them. I suppose they didn’t have much of a choice but to leave the diabolically charged wood on top…morons!”
I suppose I couldn’t blame them too much, it wasn’t like they should have much of an explanation of Diabolic lore. I had a hard enough time picking up bits and pieces, and I’d had far more access to banned literature and an actual devil inside my head. Still, some things were obvious. Don’t leave corpses near diabolism.
Tolman winced, looked at the ruins of the house nervously. “Any chance they’ll come to life soon, just….possessed?”
“Not soon,” I said. “The initial flare-ups of having the hellfire and other diabolism thrown about have already spent themselves. Anything left over is more passive. It still radiates, but it’s slower, takes time. Needs to build up. To bring the corpses back in a day would require a truly staggering amount of…”
I trailed off, both Tolman and I considering the cut-apart jigsaw puzzle of the street.
“Best make it fast?” he suggested, and I nodded.
“Sure you don’t want my help?” he continued as I started looking through the rubble. “Or are you still concerned about me working for Versalicci?”
“First,” I said, “I’m more worried about you not recognizing what’s important when you see it.”
“Seems simple enough. It isn’t just charred wood, might be important.”
“No,” I said, pulling out a piece of silverware and, after a moment's consideration, tossing it aside. “The people commanding this might legitimately have me killed if I let details get out. And you would need those details. So for now, no.”
“And about me still working for Versalicci?”
I removed a fallen plank, scanning underneath it. A couple of brass buttons, which I carefully wrapped in a handkerchief. A chunk of a fingernail, which went in a separate handkerchief.
“Is now the right time to be discussing this?”
“I don’t know. Are we ever going to talk about it afterwards, or are you just going to kick me off your cart somewhere outside your shop?”
I sighed, perhaps a bit loudly. “And if I promise to discuss it, will you stop interrupting me while I work on this?”
“Sure. If you’re being honest.”
“Rare thing to come by in the Quarter,” I said, trying to use my gloves to pick up a tiny fragment of cloth.
Awkward work, but I wasn’t letting anyone see what that jaunt into Hell had made them into.
“Sure,” Tolman said. “But I trust you on it.”
“You shouldn’t,” I said.
I hadn’t really thought of avoiding it, as soon as I’d said it, but it had to have gone through his mind; I’d only said it so he would be quiet. But honestly, even if it was only to cut any attempt at making a connection before it could hurt me again, a talk would be best. Better than snipes and barbs.
A flash of color caught my eye, and awkward as the gloves were, I picked up the tiny object.
Red hair. Pure red, and not like any I’d seen on anyone, even a Kelt. Bright red and unreal, and I rolled it between my fingers. It didn’t feel like natural hair, but it didn’t feel dyed either.
I froze, then sneaking focused on listening. Marat still at the end of the street shuffling about, Gregory and Tolman keeping watch outside the ruins of the house. I took off my hat, feeling the strands of silver between my fingers. The texture was different, but just a little.
So. Diabolists who’d been through something similar to what I’d gone through this morning. And ones with bright red hair. What had Marat and Jones said about that Infernal confronting them over moving in right next door? Shite.
I put my hat back on, pushing the massacred remnants on my hair under its concealment once more.
I didn’t rush out of there just yet. Foolish to run out with the first clue found, even if every second that ticked by was making me more anxious. This had turned from what was going to a slow affair into a quick and dirty mess thanks to Gregory and Tolman getting beaten.
More scavenging through the wreckage, shifting wood, and trying to probe without accidentally bursting a hidden bubble of diabolism. Holmsteader would hate me even more but we’d have to bring priests in for this. Tildae or Halpsus specialized in clearing out corruption, unless Gregory felt up to giving it a try in the next ten minutes or so. Either that or inevitably any Diabolism still in here would make something in the coming days. Hells, how much had she ripped off of the buildings? More importantly where had it gone?
I’d have to make sure that was taken care of as well. Not going to make me very popular with the crime lady of Glee Street. Fine. She could come after me if she wanted. It wasn’t like I didn’t have half a dozen groups trying to force their way into my house already.
I managed to search most of the floor outside the mass of wood and the hole. I wasn’t getting any closer to either.
“Okay,” I said, leaving the house. “We are getting out of here. Emily, it shouldn’t take you more than ten minutes to wriggle out of that. Wake your friend up, you both carry Carrie carefully, and maybe all of you get in cover?”
A reluctant nod from the tied-up Infernal, and I headed to where Marat was, Tolman and Gregory following. I pulled out the strands, gesturing for Marat to get closer as we neared.
“Marat,” I said while holding the strands close to her face. “This looks close to the hair of that ‘crimson-haired bastard’ who confronted you?”
Marat took a close look, squinting as she examined the strands. “If that ain’t the same color, it’s close. But Jones got a closer look.”
“We can show him as well,” I said. “We aren’t heading for my shop if that’s the case. Marat, Jones said that there were plenty of empty buildings. Perfectly useful, but not a person in them? Did you two get a chance to case that place out at all?”
“No,” she said, trailing off as she realized where I was driving, too. “We were just trying to get a roof over our heads with enough distance from Glee Street. Place that didn’t look like anyone would mind a couple of folks like us in there.”
“People who wouldn’t be missed?” I asked, getting a shaky nod. “A place that could get emptied out without most folks noticing. By the time the people inside did, how long til they cleared out? I imagine news went around about it being a bad place at some point, but far enough out, you knew to stay away.”
Gregory had gone paler by now, too. “Another one?” He asked shakily.
“Possibly,” I said, and seeing Tolman’s pensive expresssion decided I could share a little. “Mass sacrifice Tolman, right into a ritual circle. I saved Jones and Marat from a date like that into one in the burnt building.”
That made him still. “Wait, mass? Do you know for-”
“I saw the bodies,” I told him. “You didn’t ask how many, but I’ll answer easily enough. That circle had hundreds of souls in it. Some of them were collected probably over a long period of time, and over a wider range than just Glee Street. And now there’s potentially two in the Quarter.”
“To think things are that bad,” Gregory said. “You think it’s only the two? And just in the Quarter?”
“No,” I told Gregory. “Definitely not just the Quarter. Because the Quarter went through something of a population decline since the Black Flame revolt and the mass conscription of those left for military service. Even with some of those finally making their way back here instead of the Fields. Those willing to leave family behind. Anyway, the point is it’s easier to notice these days when you start picking off folks. Even if they’re dregs. No offense Marat.”
“Some taken,” she said shakily. “Not too far off, though.”
“What does it mean?” Gregory said to me.
I hesitated. He seemed so…fragile, still shaking, skin pale. Still, it wasn’t like he wouldn’t find out later. “When I examined the circle, and…well, for lack of a better term, experienced some of what happened around it, indications are there might be up to a dozen of these, is what I guess. Twelve deities, twelve priests, twelve churches, twelve circles. With a similar number of souls. And if they didn’t want to draw any attention, and if they were looking for plenty of souls to disappear, who people wouldn’t notice, the Quarter isn’t the only place to go for that.”
“Oh,” he said quietly. “Diabolism outside the Quarter. Oh.”
Oh indeed, as Tolman and Marat were both realizing as well.
“They’ll probably be riots at the end of this,” I said. “But isn’t there always something related to Diabolism that occurs? Best get ready for them now. Let's get back to the cart now. Before Holmsteader comes here?”
Tolman and Marat moved ahead swiftly, while I hung behind, mostly because of an ache building in my right leg. I’d need to check with Biosculpting in the cart, make sure the fall hadn’t hurt it permanently. I needed my mobility. Gregory kept pace with me, looking down the street.
“Can we take her with us?” Gregory said. “Just to make sure-”
“I’ve done about all I can do,” I told him. “The circle takes priority, and there’s not a hospital around that’ll take her and have the treatment she needs. The potion will do what it can, and Holmsteader will do what she’s willing. She seems to like her actual employees, so more than whatever hospital outside the Quarter you think you can convince or bully to treat her. Which will only last until they think you won’t check on her anymore.”
Gregory was quiet. “And if she dies?”
“Then straight to the Hells,” I said. “Right into its grasp, same as all of us, except for you. You get a fast track to some place related to your deity upon death, Gregory?”
The question shook him out of his stupor a little bit. “I mean, as long as I serve well, and-”
“We don’t get that,” I told him. “Someone who visited last night mentioned something I want to look into more about the other deity’s involvement in the Quarter, but even if an Infernal serves a deity loyally and faithfully, that’s nothing compared to the pull of the Hells. So yes, she dies, she goes to a place that’s even worse than up here.”
“That’s-” he went silent again.
“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to,” I said, then sighed and spoke in a more gentle tone. “Listen. I know this is eating at you, but I need you to keep your mind off of it. Until we handle this other circle, get to my shop, and then you can try my ear, and we can find you another if I’m not sympathetic enough.”
He laughed, a harsh thing that you only made when nothing else could fit what you felt. “Why? From what you said on the cart, why would you even care what I felt?”
“Because I need you functional,” I said bluntly. “Because I don’t need you falling apart. It’s not any deeper than that.”
“Is it?” Gregory said.
It wasn’t. In life, most people add niceties to it, but at the end of the day, people make relationships based on how much they need you. They told you they love you when they want your protection, filled your head with ideals when they want your service, be polite when they hold the chains curling around your neck, and be nice until you do something they don’t agree with, and then every statement is a dagger. In some ways, I preferred just getting paid. No misunderstandings. Simple.
He was staring at me, eyes probing as if to uncover my thoughts.
“Let’s handle the second circle first,” I said before the silence went on too long. “Do that, and then we can talk. I already owe at least one person that. Might as well make it two.”
“I..yes,” he said. “And Malvia, listen, I’m sorry about-”
I cut him off, not really in the mood to listen to some clearly faked apology. He was making one because I’d made him feel guilty, no other reason. Because he wanted something from me. Had to be the case.
“Let’s just handle the circle first.”
Comments
Saithor
Wait, Ex-lover? She was never involved with Tolman.
UnderwhelmingBird
oh gosh Two? She's gonna have a chat with both her ex-lover and bothersomely handsome Gregory at the same time? Malvia, that sounds like the start of a proper scandalous night. In reality she'll think that, get embarrassed, and it'll be a Whole Big Mess. *IF* she doesnt get herself killed before then. She's already spent on her supplies and magics, chronic fatigue combined with battling active fatigue, sleep debt, aftereffects from alchemicals, and finally.... she's beat to shit. Her tail's still flippy floppin about!
