Infernal Investigations

I had thought that the biggest pain I would suffer in Halspusian captivity would be when the operatives of the conspiracy, if any were still in the cathedral, tried to kill me.

“And now, students, we go over the many ways that devils and their kin may try to seduce you from the path of Halspus. First, there is physical seduction, of which many, taking their existence from unbridled lust, will try to use on you.”

Completely wrong, of course. This was so much worse than that inevitably would be. At least that had an enemy I would be able to deal with, instead of listening to everything going on. Which this fair down in the cathedral was a lot less intriguing or interesting, and more dull or outright annoying. Like the lessons being given to a class of acolytes on the dangers of devils and their kin.

“We currently have a specimen downstairs who I have read in the newspapers is quite a good example of this, but we will not be seeing it today.”

Annoying for a variety of reasons. Finding out where the owners of the various newspapers of Avernorn lived was swiftly climbing up my list of things to do once I was done saving the city from a Hellgate.

The worst part about that was I’d already resigned myself to not getting paid. The end of the age of adventurers had really reduced the rewards for saving cities. Right now the only tenuous self-justification I had for why I was doing this was my mother’s comatose body and not wanting to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder for the Empire.

“In terms of resisting their wiles, remember that you are the chosen of Halspus. If you suspect one of attempting seduction of you, merely call on his light to disrupt their sorcery and remind them of the path of righteousness.”

I stifled a groan. Hopefully, no Halspusians would visit the quarter, or I was sure I’d hear about some psychotic teenager attacking Infernals for looking at them funny.

“I think the Foulhorn twitched. Are we sure—

“For the third time, yes, there is no way for her to remove the artifact without Father Hamiltar himself doing it.”

That was my two ‘guards’, in reality a pair of acolytes. If I had guessed Hamiltar’s game correctly, ones connected to Bishop Gallaspie closely enough to be tested.

The acolytes here had either heard of the encounter last night with Bishop Gallaspie’s other acolytes or were under strict orders not to talk to me. After an hour of attempted conversation resulted in nothing but stern silence, I’d gotten bored and pretended to sleep.

I’d hoped that would make them start talking about anything related to the Bishop’s death, my imprisonment, or Forcreek, but they had been more professional than I expected. Instead, I’d been picking up much less useful gossip from the surrounding area, among other things.

If I wanted to actually make a mild mess of the temple acolytes’ social lives? Very useful. Otherwise? Not so much. My enhanced hearing was not offering much of use.

Although it was amusing how many came down here to have their private conversations. You think some of them would have stumbled onto the others by now, leaving or entering the private dungeon cells.

I had not been afforded that luxury, to my displeasure. No enclosed cell, no reinforced steel door with no windows, and locked. No, I got to lay in a cell with nothing but bars surrounding me, meaning any idiot with a death wish and a desire to aid the conspiracy, or just a hatred of Infernals, could run in here and blast me between the bars.

I’d managed some preparations. The artifact suppressed my diabolism. It had not suppressed my biosculpting. Losing being able to move my left arm over the last few hours had been worth the half-dozen throwing knives made of bone I’d made from my fingers and part of my forearm. Anyone trying to blast the seemingly defenseless Infernal would get a knife tip in their eye for the effort.

Meanwhile I did nothing but rest, eavesdrop, and think.

Bishop Gallaspie confirmed to be part of the conspiracy, dead, and his motivation known.

First, his motivation. A desperate man’s attempts to both scuttle an enterprise he disapproved of and reverse the course his deity’s worship was taking.

The pages left of his confession had been sparse on details of how the desire to reverse his deity’s declining fortunes and end the attempt to teach diabolism to the priests had led to risking a Hellgate in the city. There’d been a platitude about how it was never supposed to get this far, but that didn’t explain initially how it occurred. How did you talk him into not just committing his main acolyte to being the killer, but to have not turned on it until they were three-fourths of the way to completion?

I toyed with the idea of him having been told it was fake and discarded it. Forcreek would have heard the devil’s whispers. And would have told his master about it.

No, Bishop Gallaspie had gone into this knowing that there was a chance this could result in a Hellgate opening. He must have figured he could stop it, was my guess at the moment. That no one could outwit or wield more force than he.

He’d been wrong. But the question still remained, who put the idea in his head?

Operating on my theory that this diabolism program was originally created with the intent of pursuing this deal, and that Forcreek had been chosen to be the Priestkiller due to some innate talent with diabolism, there was one obvious choice, and one less obvious one.

Timmel might have an argument that would have sounded familiar to the Bishop’s ears, I thought. Two deities in decline, their importance waning slowly. He also would perhaps want this more for making the people of Anglea fear the night, so he might not mind the Hellgate actually opening. If he thought the empire could get it closed at some point thereafterreported.

I drummed my fingers. Who in this group might actually want it open? The ones outside the program, they’d recruited, probably. Versalicci and whoever else had come to this not from the pantheon churches.

Meanwhile, Derrick, the third member, the youngest, the one whose deity was also on a decline but a much smaller one. More stable, from how it had been described. People would always honor their dead, just the reduction in necromancy meant they didn’t care about it as much.

It wasn’t hard to think of a personal motivation for the Slayer. Breaking free of the Lich’s curse that would end her life before she even saw thirty. Could a devil do what no other magic power she may have consulted was capable of?

Maybe. My knowledge of more advanced diabolism was threadbare, but depending on the devil, they may be able to fix it. And what could be a better motivator than avoiding death?

I held back a sigh. Grasping at straws. Timmel had a better motive and made more sense. But Gallaspie had seemed to trust Derrick more. But I hadn’t seen him interact much with Timmel. And then there was my brother, lurking in the shadows.

Derrick, for me, didn’t make sense as part of the conspiracy for a simple reason-the ambush on her and Forcreek, which had nearly killed me. I knew Forcreek was involved. If she was also involved and was more committed than Gallaspie, why keep me alive? The attack had provided the perfect excuse for my death.

That entire incident was painted in a whole new light, knowing Forcreek was the Priestkiller. Assuming he hadn’t known I’d be there, it could have been the perfect opportunity to arrange the Slayer’s death.

I couldn’t know for sure. For now, I could hope that Forcreek’s interrogation could lead to more leads.

The other thing was how Gallaspie had died. Not just that he had probably known the killer. He’d trusted the killer, apparently enough to not even suspect anything while actively writing his confession revealing his role in it.

Maybe the latter parts of the confession hadn’t contained details about his co-conspirators. Timmel approaches him, stating they use this existing deal, hijack it, and use it for their own goals. Scuttle it and kill anyone who might have joined to try to make it actually happen.

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Someone involved should want this to open, right? Or was everyone using it as a means to an end?

I snorted. One of the most expensive and dangerous means to an end. Someone wanted it open. Possibly Timmel. And I was sure Timmel is who intially broached the idea with Gallaspie.

Inside my own head, it sounded like a solid theory. I doubted Forcreek was ever going to be allowed out of this cathedral at all, and I’d never get a chance to interrogate him. Might be worth handing to Hamiltar so someone questioned him about it.

“We can only be grateful that the other bishops have been so restrained in their response.”

Well, speak of the devil. Currently walking nearby, if not too far away, far down the hall.

“Agreed,” his companion said, someone whose voice sounded like someone had rubbed it against a basket of razors. “I expected half of them to take this as an excuse to demonstrate. Two bishops removed, both cases involving this specific Foulhorn.”

I couldn’t be blamed for either case, but no point ever arguing that with this lot.

“It is very fortunate,” Hamiltar agreed. “I think the knowledge we will all be dealing with far more than the devil’s get soon enough.”

His companion grunted agreement. “Especially in light of events involving Acolyte Forcreek.”

Down in my cell, it took all my effort not to even so much as twitch my tail in response to that. Don’t tell me these lunatics had let him-

“It is very embarrassing,” Hamiltar said, sounding chastened, not that I cared as I tried to force a surge of anger down. “I underestimated how popular he is with the other acolytes, that some would help him escape. And how swiftly he would recover after hearing of the bishop’s death.”

“You were too transparent,” his companion opined. “Speaking to the council on that foulhorn’s behalf, saying she had helped with your investigation. When you wanted Forcreek detained because of what the Slayer said, the acolytes must have thought it was at its suggestion. I just hope the two who went with him are not harmed.”

They were either accomplices or likely dead! Also, what the ‘Slayer’ had said? Had Hamiltar claimed that so the higher-ups in the church would more easily believe it, or because he was a bigoted-

I choked back the bile building up before it exploded. Okay. Credit-stealing I could deal with. Incompetence I could not. That stupid idiot priest!

“Still, not a complete loss. We haven’t truly lost him,” the other priest started before stopping.

Ten minutes passed with nothing else said by either. That far away, footsteps would be difficult to hear on even a marble floor. They had left.

Interesting. Hamiltar had likely told the other priest to be quiet without speaking. So, they had their own way of tracking Forcreek?

Had Hamiltar deliberately arranged to not have Forcreek held securely to try to cause this? Chase him to the leaders of this conspiracy?

Overconfident. Risky. The Priestkiller on the loose was too high a risk for me. Then again, I didn’t have a clergy perhaps infested with diabolism-dealing priests to worry about. Hamiltar might consider it worth it. After all, what were the odds that the portal could actually be opened? There were still three priests left, as far as anyone knew. Four, as I knew, and was increasingly glad of my stunt with Mourner Kelson.

That was assuming no one died while I was locked up in here. Or while I’d slept. Or traveled to the cathedral. Or inside it.

The Priestkiller has been inside, but they had the Flame. They had diabolists. They may have the Queen of Masks, and who knew what else.

I could walk out of this cell and find everyone wondering why the damn Hellgate hadn’t opened yet because the ‘last’ three priests were already dead.

I kept my breathing slow, refusing to grind my teeth or let my tail thrash. Everyone was so focused on what they could gain out of this mess instead of stopping it. Busy trying to make sure their own asses were covered for when the scheme was stopped instead of helping stop it. And that assumed they weren’t secretly part of the conspiracy.

I’d been blessed by not having an angle I wanted to push besides staying breathing, and even that might be in question with how much I was tweaking my superior’s noses. If a file didn’t exist to justify my execution the moment my usefulness ran out, it did now.

As I brainstormed, the guards had been changed, the previous pair of acolytes reporting I’d slept and nothing else, and the last two busy making themselves obnoxious trying to wake me up as I continued to brainstorm.

Me pretending to still be asleep had everything to do with convincing them I was completely out and not at all pettiness as one of them yelled at me for a tenth time.

“Wake up!”

I finally cracked my eyes open. The new pair were a boy and a girl, both human, both barely touching adulthood. One of them unlocked my cell door, a tray in their other hand, while the second was at the ready. Light suddenly suffused her hands, and I shut my eyes as tears welled up and my face felt heated.

Eventually, I managed to get them open and blinked most of the tears away as the boy finished opening the door.

“Food and water, foulhorn,” one of them said irritably, placing the tray down, the other keeping the light aimed directly at my head. “Eat and drink. By the grace of Halpsus, it will be the last before your deserved removal from this earth.”

Someone wanted to indulge in some dramatics. I yawned, showing off my teeth as I got up from the bed. The boy had already retreated beyond the cell door, swiftly locking it.

I eyed the tray. Bread. Water. Not much of either.

“You know,” I said. “If I am condemned, I believe it is customary for the one to be executed to get a request for a last meal of their choosing?”

The girl rolled her eyes and only responded by increasing the intensity of the light. I refused to flinch, even as it made the usual watering instead feel like someone had rammed splintery sticks right into my tear ducts.

The boy was actually pricked by the comment.

“Creatures deserving of it receive as such,” he said. “And people. You are neither.”

“Mmm,” I said as I pulled the tray closer. “Considering even mass murderers are allowed a choice of-”

The light in the girl’s hands intensified, which I took as my cue to be quiet.

I took a sip of the water, pausing as I felt the taste on my tongue. Really? They expected this to work on an alchemist?

I took a few sips of the water. One of them was more measured about it than the other but both were nervous, even if they avoided the obvious signs like shaking hands.

They avoided outright sighing when I took a deep drink of the water. They’d make their move in a couple of hours. If they were very good at this, they’d have disfigured bodies about their size and enough blood to cause confusion while they made their getaways, but I doubted that.

At least knowing my attempted assassins were here was helping me stay awake. That they were incompetent helped. Did they not know I was an alchemist?

Maybe I had overestimated my notoriety from the newspapers. Or maybe they only focused on the ‘diabolist’ and ‘sex devil’ aspects. The latter of which I was going to have words with somebody about.

I settled back down and pretended to drift off over the next ten minutes.

They disappointed me. They waited only perhaps twenty more after I pretended to sleep to make their move. Hearing the tread of boots on the floor, I tensed, one of the bone knives hidden in my hand. Hamiltar would be watching, but I wasn’t counting on the Halspusian to keep me alive. The moment one of them stuck a hand through the bars, it was going to be impaled.

To my mild shock, I heard the sound of a key ring being lifted next, being fitted to a lock.

“Just melt her and be done with it!” the second acolyte hissed. “Did you listen to nothing about what was said?”

“It’s asleep,” the other acolyte said dismissively. “Have you ever had a chance to kill one of these things? Me neither, and I intend to see our god’s light burn this one to cinders up close. It has interfered in his work, and we have bound its diabolism, I intend to make this slow.”

What a charming young man, so full of virtue to replace the giant gaping hole where his brain should be. The question is, how close would his sadistic streak bring him?

I cracked an eye open just enough to see, my arm lay over my head in between my eyes and his face.

Not the brawny kind, as he opened the cell door. His robe hung off him as if it were on a broom. Good, that would make this easier. I closed my eyes again.

One step swiftly followed by two as his shoes clicked on the stone, then he paused. His hand twitched. Faced with actually acting on what he said, he hesitated. I didn’t.

I sprang into motion. My tail lashed out, wrapping around his calf and pulling as hard as it could while my hoof rammed into his face. His nose flattened with a crunch.

He wasn’t expecting it, yelling in panic as he toppled backward. His head hit the stone floor with a crack, but the gathered light still burst from his hands.

My skin burned as the light flashed, but it didn’t touch me as it hit the top of the cell. Teeth ground as I could taste blood, my legs shaking as I got off the bed, hissing as my hooves burned touching the ground.

The other acolyte moved, but far too slowly as I threw with my good hand.

The bone knife sank into the girl's arm, making her cry out. Pain broke her concentration, half-gathered light vanishing from her hands as she stumbled back.

I released the boy’s calf with my tail, wrapping it around his chest instead. My hand grabbed his collar, yanking on it. I hauled him up. Dazed, he didn’t resist until my teeth were an inch from his neck.

By now the other acolyte was frozen between pulling the knife out and attacking me, but my glancing her way had light gathering around her hand.

“I’d reconsider,” I said swiftly. “Both taking that knife out and any delusions about hitting me with Halspus’ light. This close, my jaws can definitely close around your friend’s neck before you can kill me. And I doubt you’ll make it out of the cathedral after. You’d just be killing the bait.”

That last part made my hostage tense, and the girl’s eyes widened.

“Why, yes,” I said cheerily before either of them could speak. “Of course it’s a trap. Father Hamiltar would definitely leave guarding the potential of Bishop Gallspie up to a pair of apprentices. I can see why you two were left behind.”

It was actually a little offensive knowing my death had been entrusted to a pair of unquestioning incompetent zealots. Not that I would complain too strenuously about my attempted killers.

My working hand grabbed the bone knives, which I pressed against the male acolytes’ throat, letting me pull back my jaw.

By now Father Hamiltar should have intervened if he thought there was a chance either of these two might have done something stupid and risked my death or theirs. Which meant there was some other reason he and other servants of Halspus had not shown up yet. I had a decent idea of what that might be.

Want me to do your dirty work for you, Father? Since it served my purposes as well, fine.