We didn't spend long in the snow. Just long enough to catch my breath, coat wrapped tightly around me. Gregory had settled down several feet away, giving me some privacy without needing to be asked.

My breaths were ragged things, worn out by fighting and by recent events, and by the knowledge that eventually I would have to get up.

For now, though, just breathing, trying to slow, to calm. As hard as that was with the image of Jones' corpse fresh on my mind. And the gnawing feeling in my stomach because of it. They'd be dead without my help. They'd already been selected by Tyler, ready to be sacrificed over the circle in his basement, bodies butchered and stitched together as hosts for conjured lesser devils to take over. If I hadn't helped, they would be dead. That didn't change the fact that they'd been killed because I'd hired them either. Not for any important reason either.

Marat, that was combat. Probably. She'd taken a shot, gotten punished for it. Though no one deserved a death like that, limbs torn off. I could only hope shock had done her in. Better than bleeding to death.

Jones, though, had died for no actual reason. There'd been no reason but petty cruelty and spite to kill him. Enough for Malachti, and maybe Mitlau. One more twist of the knife. I didn't know what upset me more, the fact he'd died just because he'd been at the wrong place, or that he'd died to try to stab a metaphorical knife into me.

This was partially on me. Sure, they'd taken the money, but whose fool idea had it been to take a pair of middle-aged Infernals into this mess for…what? Hells, guilt over costing them their jobs? I sure did a great job at making sure there was no guilt left, hadn't I?

Enough moping, though. Best to try and move forward. And do my best by them in death. Preferably with a very dead Malachti.

I sighed. "Let's go."

"You sure?" Gregory asked, reclining against a building wall. "Barnes, or whatever her actual name is, seemed fine. Same with Tolman. Not that I'd call a broken arm fine but-"

"It's not just that," I said, already not looking forward to fielding questions about Tagashin. Maybe I could pass that on to Samuel Voltar? "Time limits. According to Melissa, half of this group was out scouting for their next kill. Which means the other killer is as well."

"If they're all working together," Gregory noted, and I gave him a flat look.

"Yes, because both Tyler and the Black Flame diabolists happened to have a sacrificial ritual circle of the same make and general design," I said. "And both are after the same targets."

"Point taken," he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "You think today will be when they strike?"

"Probably," I said. "No way to know for sure. As for the working together part, I also heard them discuss taking orders from someone. Reluctantly, now that things are going somewhat poorly for them."

"Poorly for them?" Gregory asked me disbelievingly.

"I don't think they expected things to unravel like this," I told him. "Look, I doubt Tyler was going to be employed for slitting the throats of priests. Sure, he was glutted on souls to use as fuel, but they're supposed to fuel the ritual. And they wouldn't want those two things crossing over. The Black Flame diabolists doing some of the killing? Maybe because there's enough of them to keep theirs defended. Little good that did them."

Being caught in the middle of a summoning left little way to defend yourself. Take your hands and your control off the circle, and you threw yourself on the mercy of whatever Devil you were summoning. Either that or hope you could fight them.

Considering they'd been trying to summon an entity of wrath, and one from the boiling sea, unlikely to be lucky on either count. I paused at that thought. That had not come from my head, and trying to figure out why I knew that just gave me a headache.

Hells, I did not need to be dealing with things like this on top of everything else.

"You think the circles are irreplaceable, then?" Gregory asked me.

"I can't know for certain until Vesper takes a look," I said carefully, then paused, waiting for a new intrusive thought to flitter in. Nothing.

"I tested the one we liberated from Tyler's house," I continued. "The amount of souls in there…he's probably been collecting from more than the people who work as laborers on Glee Street. Enough that I'm beginning to wonder how long back this plan stretches. Potentially predating the program's founding."

"Ah," Gregory said, eyes narrowing. "You think the program was created to enable this?"

"Maybe not," I said. "If it were, I'd expect better planning, a way to pull this off in a single day. Or maybe someone inside is taking advantage after being brought in. We don't have enough information to tell. What I can tell you is it'll be harder for them to pull off this time."

Gregory frowned. "As ill as it might be of me to doubt in the collected churches, the city watch, and Imperial Intelligence, none of these groups noticed these deaths before."

"Because the victims are of classes expected to die," I told him patiently. "Or, not die, but disappear. They'd have to plot it out differently in places where there's actual charity, instead of the Quarter."

He winced a little at that, as I carried on.

"It won't be people you'd expect to die, especially when they're used to corpses going into the ground afterward. No, travellers, wanderers, people who come in and out of the city. Folks with no close family or friends. Or areas where there are so many in need, the people there are overwhelmed. I'm sure you can name a few of those."

Gregory nodded reluctantly. "I've been shuffled around a few recently."

"Shuffled?"

"My father wasn't exactly pleased with how things went a few months ago," Gregory said. "Now he does his best to make the lives of those he blames for it miserable. Those he can reach. Which mostly means my siblings and me. Henry made it back to the army, and his reach is limited there. Elisea has…taken up employment at a place he doesn't really want to make an enemy of."

"But he will pick on the Temple of Tarver?" I said, raising an eyebrow.

Gregory hesitated. "I wouldn't say he necessarily has been targeting the temple as much as me, and with that being the case-"

"Don't tell me you haven't been letting the temple know," I interjected.

"I," he hesitated, clearly thinking through the response, while I stopped my tail from starting to wag. Damnable thing.

"It's complicated and not something I want to involve the temple in," he started. "He's only targeted me so far, it's nothing I can't handle and involving my religion seems-"

"Unfair?" I suggested. "Because to be quite honest, I'm surprised he has any influence left after what happened."

It wasn't public knowledge what had happened, of course, but suspicion should fall on him. It only made sense, given how events had played out. Hells, I'd hope at least some of the involved parties with a better reputation than me had made efforts at spreading the truth. Speaking of those involved parties.

"It's an organized church of bards, storytellers, mirthmakers, party organizers, and about a hundred other professions related to public opinion and culture," I said. "If anything it sounds like the perfect organization to be involved in handling your father."

Gregory sighed heavily. "I don't want to handle it like that. It's my fight to have. Elise did scare him off that way, had a half hundred threats arrayed when he tried interfering with her new career. Apparently, he backed off after Elise's editor wagered close to three thousand pounds that in a week, he'd have a third of the city convinced Lord Montague is three kobolds in a coat."

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Three kobolds in a coat? How would that even-wait, editor?! No. Distractions, like this entire tangent, but I wasn't going to abandon it just yet.

"Trying to fight someone on your own when they've got the advantage is how you end up dead, Gregory."

"I really, sincerely doubt he's trying to kill me," Gregory said soberly. "I know what that feels like. No. This is harassment, just him taking out his petty frustrations over the entire affair since he doesn't have another target. I'm not giving him the satisfaction of spreading that inconvenience further."

That was more bullheaded than I expected to hear, and I tried to keep the frown off my face. To me, this made as little sense as his sudden questioning on how I'd kill Gallaspie.

"That inconvenience could escalate quickly," I noted. "My opinion? Handle it. Fast."

He seemed to consider an answer to that for a second before shaking his head. "Enough. It's my problem, and if it comes to it, I'll handle it. Not involving third parties who shouldn't be caught up in it. And as much as a good bard loves to try and weave in subplots, we're straying from the course. Places to find victims for their circles?"

"I have one more," I said. "A third place where they might grab people. Places where Imperial and Pantheon presence are taking time to expand after a recent conquest. "

There was only one place that fit that qualification, and we both stared at the snow-covered ground.

"That would be difficult to find," Gregory admitted. "We tried going down there, trying to rekindle some of that old fellowship. To say the reception was frosty…well, it might put this coming winter to shame."

"Old fellowship tends to die fast when one part of the fellowship conquers the other," I noted sardonically. "Might be the easiest down there. Any missing dwarves would be assumed to have tried and followed the rest of their kin deeper underground."

The Imperial policy regarding that seemed to be to ignore it. For now. Between the Black Flame rebellion right after the initial conquest, and other countries outside the Imperial borders putting up more of a united front, the Imperial appetite for sparking open rebellion in its capital was swiftly shrinking. The sheer number of monsters and unexplored tunnels underground helped with that. Delver guilds were slowly killing off the former and exploring the latter. But slow, very slow. Very little Imperial support outside of funding them, and even that wasn't the greatest contribution to their funds.

"They're still pretty close-knit themselves," Gregory said. "Whatever else has happened, those still around still have their sense of community."

"Yes," I agreed. "Which is why they'll decide this is a problem to handle by themselves. They probably won't even think of bringing in the Imperials at all unless it's forced on them. Sound familiar?"

He winced, frowned, then nodded slowly. "Unfortunately so."

"I suppose you're still too new to their group to ask, but any luck in ferreting out any members?" I asked him.

"I've been trying to get names," Gregory told me. "But they don't trust me. New to this entire thing, considered too close to you and Voltar, considered too inexperienced, too young."

I frowned. "Isn't Slayer Derrick close to our age?"

"Closer to us than she is to Bishop Gallaspie," he said. "But killing a lich is better than being fourth fiddle to killing some Shapechanger in terms of respect. Also, because it's hard to remember she's not even thirty when she looks fifty years older. I have gotten a couple of potential names."

"Good," I said. "We can compare it to the list I was given last night."

"You were given a list?" Gregory asked, surprised. "Did Voltar finally wear down those two or-"

"Someone else," I said. "Who will go unnamed. Not even Voltar knows, for now at least. I can't vouch for how trustworthy the list might be though. They claimed to be helping and that they were frustrated by Derrick and Gallaspie's refusal to cooperate, but for now those are only words."

"Words with a bit of backing," Gregory said. "I've not been there long, but there's definite tension between them. I can't be sure how much was there before all of this, but whatever united front is presented in public isn't even the slightest bit true in private. No one's willing to talk to me yet, but pressure is building the longer things go."

"Not fast enough," I said. "At least not on your end. Voltar's trying to ascertain how accurate the list is. I'll be trying to help with that later today. Zaviel's single diabolist first."

I might have an additional reason to talk to him, I thought. Or at least a foot in the door? Probably impossible to arrange, given Marat and Jones were Infernals, but now that the thought was in my head it suddenly wouldn't leave.

"It helps some," Gregory said. "Although this ritual…what do you think are the conditions? One from each deity?"

"Seems to be the case," I said. "Mind you, it would be convenient if it were everyone, but I doubt things would be so convenient for us. One from each would probably do for symbolism's sake. At least in my theory, which I can share more of once we're in a warm building and with some hot tea inside us."

I actually was wrapped up enough that the cold wasn't bothering me too badly. But it was slowly creeping in, given most of these clothes weren't tailored for my body shape or..unique features.

"Worried about being overheard?" Gregory asked me.

"Worried about keeping it all straight in my head," I said. "I feel better with some paper to organize it, considering how….troublesome the last couple of days have been for getting sleep."

"Burning the candle at both ends?"

"Last night I got most of my sleep because an alchemical concoction of mine didn't give me a choice," I said. "The night before it was because my…an acquaintance knocked me out and tied me up in my bedsheets. I have not been having some very restful nights"

"Might be worth looking into getting some actual sleep," Gregory said. "Once things calm down."

"If they calm down," I muttered. "I get the distinct feeling that things are only going to accelerate. I am aware it's going to slowly wear me down, but for right now, I don't see any other option."

"Maybe not feeling the need to do everything yourself?"

I scowled. "I hardly feel the need to do everything myself. Voltar and Dawes are handling the stuff they can manage, I handle the stuff I can. The violence. The diabolism. The alchemy, which keeps getting pushed off because the first two are the only ones people and the world want most of the time. Never mind, we've got complications coming out of the woodwork every time we move a plank. A dozen of these damn circles. Someone in Imperial Intelligence is getting asked some very pointed questions about how that got missed by the end of this, is my bet. Or this entire conspiracy. Conspiracies of this size, by nature, do not work this well."

"I'd hardly call violence and diabolism your only skills," Gregory said.

"Well, those are the skills I get called upon to use the most," I said. "Case in point, right back there in that warehouse, with those two possessed."

"About those two possessed?" Gregory asked. "How do they fit in?"

"Easily," I said. "I don't know why Versalicci decided those two should be possessed. Maybe he thought Malachti was such an abrasive asshole that having a devil inside him might improve his temperament. Probably tailing me since last night, then leapt onto this opportunity. Traitors die."

Except me, apparently, but that wasn't the only thing that stood out to me. They hadn't bothered to grab Melissa. Why? Counting on her fleeing in the confusion and heading back to the Flame anyway? Risk wasn't worth it?

She was the only diabolist they had left, so they should have gone for that first. Then leave us and the traitor Diabolists to tear each other apart.

Then again, I thought as I shifted in the snow, beginning to get up as the cold truly started to sink in. The only thing I had that suggested she was the only loyal diabolist left was her saying so. And even if she hadn't lied, it would hardly be the first time Versalicci had hidden the capabilities of other members of the gang from each other.

Still, she was the last one who could communicate with that thing she and Versalicci considered our father. It was possible that there was another half-sibling in the Flame. Probable? Even if he kept a keen eye out for them, no.

Also, had they been trailing me, or had they found this place on their own? Versalicci would have me tailed, of course, but not by people I could recognize on sight. And I doubted by people as unstable as those two. Hells, even more unstable with Devils riding them with much more control than the Imp had over me. But how had they arrived here? Chasing Melissa or pursuing the circles for their own end?

"Malvia, are you okay?"

Gregory's question jolted me out of my musings. He'd walked closer as I'd mused, but kept a respectful distance.

"I'm fine," I said. "Just lost in thought. Thinking about the involvement of my brother. Setting me on Donald Tyler doesn't make sense when you think about it. The timing is off."

"How so?" Gregory said. "It sounds reasonable enough to me. Your brother is a man of your people, decides to handle a threat to it. Perhaps he figured Tyler was a risk, having one of his own people handle it. So he sets someone he sees as a traitor on it. A clash where one of his enemies lies dead at the end, and the other is potentially wounded. Seems like a simple enough scheme to me."

"He likes being a man of the people," I agreed. "But that means being able to claim actual credit for it. Trust me, if I could handle Tyler relatively quietly without any great risk, Versalicci could have easily taken him. No. Bringing me in was part of something else. The traitors? No, timing doesn't add up. Which is another thing. Unless they were brought into it relatively late, they've been involved for too little time. Unless they were doing this behind Daver and Versalicci's backs all along. Makes sense, they'd need time to get the souls for the circle. So why hint to Melissa so late in the game as if they'd just been approached?"

Actually, assuming she hadn't run off, I could try and probe that point with Melissa herself, back at the warehouse, which we should have been at over twenty minutes ago.

I glared at Gregory. "You got me talking to keep us here longer, didn't you?"

"Guilty as charged," he said. "You had me huffing and puffing trying to keep up with you, and while I do get some cardio evading the pistol rounds of offended parties, it's always good to get an extended breather."

I'm sure that was the reason. I fumed, but didn't really find it in myself to say anything as I got up. It was a nice gesture, even if it flew in the face of the fact that sitting around was not going to help solve this. Sometimes it felt like I was the only person who remembered murders were going on while we sat around and chatted.

"Let's go get that second circle."

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.