To my surprise, we didn't go further out of the city to find where the priestess of Kersov died. Instead, we went further inside, as buildings climbed higher and exteriors grew more ornate. I pulled further inside the carriage as we continued on, as those staring grew more powerful. And then suddenly we pulled out into the open, the buildings on one side of the street vanishing entirely, replaced by a tall metal fence covered in greenery. Beyond that were grass-covered fields mixed with ponds and copses of trees, paved and dirt trails traversing like veins across them.

"The Gardens?" I said as we pulled up to the entrance. "She came here?"

Hardly the place you'd expect a worshipper of the wilds to go. Sure, the Garden had plants and animals, but it was a curated place, just a place to go for a walk.

"Definitely a bit of a shock," Gregory said. "Imagine that was part of the intent. Kersov worshippers hate these places. I know at least a few who got in trouble for trying to import that 'true wilds' into the gardens."

Melissa sneered. "What, did they mess up the plants?"

"No, they released a bunch of wolves inside, and from all accounts, got very lucky no one was attacked before the wolves were... pacified. Acolytes, not actual priests, who are just as fervent but less reckless in how they've been protesting things."

Well, at least it wasn't some patch far out in the wilderness. My schedule wasn't destroyed, merely pretty badly wounded by these killings.

"They're still here," Tagashin said from up above, choosing not to teleport herself or throw her voice down here randomly. "Chatted briefly with Voltar; he needs Malvia to get alchemical samples. Apparently, the corpse's nature makes it difficult to get any."

Oh, that boded poorly.

"I live to serve," I said, getting disbelieving looks from everyone else in the carriage as I got out.

"You need to say that to Voltar at some point," Tagashin said excitedly. "Exact tone and everything. I want to see that facade of his crack open!"

"Or maybe you could act serious, and really cause his mind to fracture?" I suggested, getting a quick laugh out of her.

"Tried, it is impossible to hold myself together long enough for it. Evening officers!"

The main entrance to the Gardens was wide enough to fit carriages through at once. It was also blocked off, a cordon of Watch officers keeping anyone from entering. And attracting a crowd of well-to-do Avernorners who seemed willing to test that. As we came to a halt, at least half of them were grumbling about the closure of the park. Some teens were talking about scaling the fence down the street when we came to a halt nearby.

The onlookers beat a swift retreat as we unloaded, most of them suddenly finding better things to do with their morning than visit the Gardens.

"Your reputation precedes you," Tagashin said in mock-seriousness. "Soon enough, all you need to do is set foot in a district and everyone will be fleeing within moments."

"Blaming me for how your garish fashion is driving everyone away who sees it?" I asked. "For shame, Barnes. Take responsibility for your crime upon aesthetics everywhere."

"Says the woman who had to dunk herself in dead souls to get an actual aesthetic besides 'Thief skulking in alleyway'?"

"At least I have the good sense to realize entirely hot pink is a dead end. Maybe if you had other colors, but it's all the same shade of pink."

"I'll have you know on good authority that this will be the fashion of choice in twenty years," Tagashin said. "Tell you what, I'll even get you a dre-"

"When I get a dress, I am not including any of that color on it, or it's no dress at all."

"You two are insane," Melissa muttered, while Gregory talked with the Watchmen to get us past them. "How serious can you even take that kind of thing?"

Tagashin's eyes lit up. "Hrrm, interesting."

"What?"

"Well, now that I've convinced Malvia about getting a dress, maybe I should start on some others of the same," she said innocently.

"You still need to get me into one," I told her.

"Give it time."

It didn't take long to get through the gates, and pretty soon we were inside the Garden's themselves. I breathed in. The air actually was different. Crisper perhaps, as I took a step onto the grass.

"Oh," I said, stumbling a little bit to keep my footing. "That's interesting. One second."

Melissa had a similar issue, but after a few seconds to get used to the feeling, we were good.

"Have you never walked on grass before?" Gregory asked, bemused.

"When grass grows in the quarter, it tends to be sparse, and usually dry," I said. "We don't get to be in parks. Last time I set foot in one, I was….three, maybe?"

"Never for me," Melissa said, still concentrating on maintaining her footing. "Shit, this somehow feels more slippery than mud."

It actually felt rather nice, at least compared to the muck or hard ground of the quarter, even if balance was a bit of an issue. What plants managed to survive on the ground of the Quarter were weeds or hardier things. Occasional plants from below that would try to hit you with branches or strangle you with vines popped up on occasion. This, though, was almost like being in a different world. A distracting world, as something scurried through the grass near us.

"How far in is the crime scene?" I asked Tagashin. "And do we know anything about the victim?"

"Rebecca Calmers," Tagashin said. "They'd just gotten to the scene when the killer fled. The body isn't that far in."

She vanished, reappearing a dozen feet ahead, then a second later teleported even further ahead. Chaining them, she disappeared inside a larger copse ahead. We followed along the trail, although I kept to the grass.

Not for long, as we entered the copse and the gentle grass was replaced by undergrowth that jabbed and pulled on my hooves.

The trees grew thicker as we went further in. It felt oppressive, the way branches linked together to blot out the sun. Unsettling. That was only supposed to happen indoors, not when you were outside.

"You feel that?" Gregory asked, wiping his brow where sweat was heading.

"A little bit," I said, relatively insulated by my skin. Melissa made some snide remarks about lightweight humans as we made it past the trees to what had once been a pond in the middle of the forest.

All around us, trees were gone or had chunks missing from them. Many of their trunks had the signs of infernal magic hurriedly cleansed with purification, vaporizing the affected wood along with it. Not the only kind of scar, some bore deep cuts, stains of blood, and a few had been knocked over.

The pond wasn't filled with water anymore, bubbling muck black and warm enough that sweat was beading on my forehead even thirty feet away. It felt like the worst summers, when just stepping into the shade felt like salvation. The air above it shimmered, the surface of the pond steaming, fat bubbles forming before popping and sending steaming muck across the banks.

On the bank of the pond opposite us, lay the corpse of the victim.

Fangs jutted out of a too-small jaw, piercing her skull above and her chin below. Ragged patches of fur were stretched over raw, bleeding skin that continued to leak black ichor into the pond. Face stretched into a feline structure, skin on the verge of splitting. Well, pride for this one, as judged by our mysterious killer.

Past that, keeping their distance from the pond, were three Watch officers, Voltar, Gallaspie, and Forcreek, who began making their way far around the pond's rim to where we were. They mostly looked the same, except Forcreek, who was well-

"Forcreek seems paler than normal," Gregory whispered.

"He got pretty beat up in the assassination attempt on Slayer Derrick," I whispered back. "You have to get used to being healed by magic too; oftentimes it just papers over the trauma caused by the injuries."

A lesson learned by myself, one painful blow at a time. Biosculpting was the best at lessening the pains and aches left behind, but even that had its limits. Whatever diabolism had changed me had fixed the pain in my tail, but without that, I'd have felt the aftereffects of those chops for weeks.

Right, that still needed to be followed up on. They were all dead, but we should still pursue who had hired them.

"Might also be because of your new look," Gregory said.

Right. The sea serpent.

The others were close enough that it would be impolite to continue whispering. Or because they might overhear us.

"Foulhorn," Gallaspie said loudly, friending as he considered me. "Are you proud to have changed yourself merely to unsettle the better person in comparison to you?"

"Bishop, I can assure you I did not do this to myself to terrify your apprentice," I said drily to Gallaspie, and then turned my tone more sincere. "In fact, that is a bit of a misnomer. This was done to me, not done by me. Mr. Fourcreek, I do apologize for any distress my appearance might be causing you."

Forcreek was still pale, but there was a little more color to him. "It is accepted. What caused this?"

I looked Voltar's way. He hadn't told them?

"They know about the generalities of what happened at your house," he said. "Not the specifics."

"The devil did this to you?" Forcreek blurred out. "Doesn't this method kill people?"

"Not anything similar to the killer's attack," I said. "Just the consequences of what I did to finish it off."

"The Hells always take their price from those fool enough to use their powers," Gallaspie said.

"Well said, Bishop," I said, and I'll admit I got a slight smug thrill over how his righteous expression turned sour. "All magic has a price, but the Hells demand quite a hefty one from its practitioners."

I wouldn't deem what had happened to me a price, but no reason to get the bishop more riled up than just being near him was going to cause already.

Seeing an opening to try and stop any more arguing, Voltar interjected.

"Slayer Derrick is handling other responsibilities and also is recovering from her injuries," Voltar said. "Doctor Dawes went with the injured survivors of this attack to help keep them stable until they could reach St. Lanian's. Friends of Ms. Chalmers who tried aiding her last night. We expect two of them to be back soon."

Soon was apparently imminent, as I heard the soft tread of feet on the path we'd just come down. Four figures, two of them Watch officers, the other two in rough leather as they got closer.

An older woman, scars across the bridge of her nose and a hand that looked sewn-back on, the stitching straining as she held heavily onto a stick. Her companions didn't even have that, crutches keeping him upright, one of the legs in a cast to force it straight.

One of the pair spat a mixture of blood and spit on the ground. Well, they'd supposedly undergone an extensive healing.

"The fuck are they doing here?" He asked gruffly, pointing at me.

Melissa bristled. "Investigating. The hells are you doing here-?"

I elbowed my half-sister, getting an annoyed squawk and glare from her.

"We'll just go look at the corpse," I told the group of them cheerily, although neither of the two seemed happy about me being near their friend's body. Melissa struggled a little, but not wanting to make a scene let me pull her a bit aways.

"I can overhear them," I whispered to her. "So don't fight it. We need them talking, and if that means putting up with them being like this, so be it."

"You can overhear them, I can't," Melissa groused. "And does it make you happy, obeying the whims of people like them? I guess not, since you already obey the commands of people like them?"

Well, because our brother is a lying coward who cares even less than me about our plights and got me stuck in this mess wouldn't be very convincing, would it?

"A snake can be just as good a predator as the bear," I told her, getting a scoff and a remark about how I wasn't making for a very good snake.

I ignored the rest. We would have to talk later, and right now I wanted to focus on what was being said between the witnesses and nearly everyone else. Tagashin had disappeared, likely keeping a watch on all of us from somewhere hidden.

"Mister Calhoun, Miss Derivan, thank you for agreeing to be interviewed so soon after your recent injuries."

"Figured you'd want to," the younger of the pair said. "Healing like that doesn't come cheap."

"We can wait until tomorrow," Voltar said. "And also, we can move away from her; we don't need to do it right next to the-"

"Just do it here," Derivan rasped, clutching her throat as she tried to speak. "Best to do it in a place where we can show you where everyone was."

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

"Okay. So you came here at Miss Chalmers request where you-"

"Set up a hunting blind," one of them said. "Becca knew they'd come after her. Figured best she could do was try to make the thing coming after her stumble right into an ambush. Wanted to give us our best shot at killing it."

"Bastard must have known others were here," Derivan rasped angrily. "Came in fast, and we only winged them. At least two arrows went into that cloak of theirs, no idea if they pierced flesh."

"Becca did hit it with her shotgun, but it was expecting that," Calhoun added. "Her shot froze in mid-air, some kind of devil magic from the pits of the hells forcing it to stop. Just held in mid-air, then it broke through them and impaled her on the tree for later."

Not devil magic then, not without tearing open a hole in reality or otherwise giving a sign of the Infernal. Unless you were doing something to not be seen at all, Infernal magic could not be kept away from being unnecessarily dramatic.

"Bastard was fast," Derivan said. "Half of us tried to keep it pinned down with blades long enough for the others to put an arrow into it. Succeeded twice, but couldn't tell if they touched flesh. We brought animals, but we sent most of them away once it became clear what our foe was. No need to waste their lives."

"Tried to use the plants against him," Calhoun continued as his friend's voice dwindled away to almost nothing from exertion. "What didn't get burnt by Hellfire got corrupted pretty quickly. As soon as he had Becca disabled, he focused on taking us all out. Powerful bastard. When he had the chance, he went to Becca and finished what he started."

"Did she mention how she was being tracked?" Voltar asked, getting up from the blind.

"Said it was hunting her by the scent of her soul," Calhoun said. "Don't know if that was true or not, but Becca picked a prime spot. They keep most of this place too damn orderly and cultivated, but this part is a nice ol' tangle. An' when she passed through the plants it wouldn't leave any hint of her going through."

True. This was the thickest part I'd seen so far of the Gardens. To my laywoman's eyes, it looked like nothing had been disturbed at all. I'd take the skilled hunter's words that even people used to tracking couldn't tell the difference.

"Did she mention why she was being hunted?" Gallaspie said sternly. "Or if she knew why?"

Track-covering, although I had no idea what he'd do if they knew. Also, it should have been clear how Chalmers had claimed to be tracked.

"She said she got in trouble with some Diabolists, and that she couldn't just kill them," Derivan rasped. "Said she wasn't sure who they were, that she wanted to draw them to her so she didn't kill an innocent by mistake."

"We figured she wasn't being open with all the details," Calhoun added. "But at the same time, she's never steered us wrong before, so we figured we'd still be doing some good. Even if she was holding stuff back, she was scared. Becca was never scared, not even when it was hunting a manticore in the wilds."

From there on, they laid out the fight as best they remembered it, an ongoing conflict that had taken at least ten minutes. It had been relatively balanced at the start before eventually devolving as individuals in the group started being picked off. Mostly a short, knife-like blade mixed with occasional use of Hellfire.

By the time they finished their story, Melissa had gone off, bored, and decided to try and see if she could find something in the surrounding area. I continued to go through the area immediately surrounding the body. Or as close as I could get without feeling like my skin was melting. Which is how I found my latest find by the time Voltar got closer, waving for me to join him.

I trotted on up, my tail gesturing towards where he had left the priests and Chalmer's friends.

"Is it all right leaving them with those three?" I asked.

Unfair of me to group Gregory in with Forcreek and Gallaspie, but the point still stood about leaving the witnesses alone with them.

"I think we can trust Bishop Gallaspie to have some restraint for a few minutes," Voltar told me. "Where has your half-sister gone off to?"

"Off looking at some of the Hellfire afflicted areas," I replied. "Although it looks like Tildae's priests have already handled most of the Infernal corruption."

You could see where they'd been. With time and care, things afflicted by the Infernal could be purified back to their normal state. It was how all healing was done to rid the body of Infernal corruptions. But when you needed a place purified so the Infernal magic could cause more devils to spawn, well there was a reason besides Hellfire why this entire are looked scorched.

"They have," Voltar said. "If we are alone then what have you found?"

"It's clever," I said as I looked over the remnants of buckshot, pulling a chunk closer. Even through the alchemical glove, it burned, and I dropped it after a few seconds.

"Blessed ammunition, mixed in with some arcane spell I'd say is for piercing other spells," I told Voltar. "These would be proof against most forms of diabolism or arcane magic. And a priest trying to call upon the Diabolic and the divine at the same time would be nigh-impossible, so if she times her shot for diabolism use, it should blast through the magic defenses most common in the city or to the killer."

"And yet they did so anyway," Voltar noted. "Another form of magic?"

"Or they weren't powerful enough," I replied. "Looks like she used already enchanted shells as a base then layered the blessing on top of it. Most mages who make these, they make them so they'll be mostly effective against the kind of shielding charms that are most common, the ones you see regularly in the Delver's guilds and so on. Still horrendously expensive for most folks, not to mention trade is heavily restricted, but you can get them. Other ones are more available, but are weaker."

"But our killer used a stronger one, didn't he?" Voltar asked. "What would be the cut-off point to catch all this buckshot?"

"Precisely?" I asked. "Give me a few days and a workshop, and maybe access to an expert. In general? Very powerful. The buckshot's effectiveness would decrease as the power of the arcane shield increased, but to completely nullify them? Very rare. Which would be easy to track."

If the maker was willing to say who had bought it, but I had no doubts on that. No mage was individually powerful enough to not answer Her Majesty's agents when they came in, saying things like 'risk of tearing hole through planes of reality' and 'conspiring to unleash the Hells on Her Majesty's citizens'.

"I can state with certainty the number of mages in town, powerful and specialized enough to make this would be in the low teens at most," I said. "Potentially less."

"Certainly worth looking into," Voltar said. "The corpse itself?"

"I have scrapings, and with the others I've taken, I might be able to track some of their past movements," I said. "But most evidence got destroyed by the transformations. Hard to analyze things when the majority of the skin is either scoured by hellfire or reforming into something different. Anything you all found out besides what Chalmer's friends have talked about?"

"There's another witness," Voltar told me. "Mr. Brexington and family were out here for a walk when the fighting broke out."

"At night?" I asked. The name was familiar. Right, the industrialist displaying the golem. And whose hedge I'd inadvertently turned into a man-eating diabolical plant during the fight with those mercenaries.

"At midnight," Voltar said, pursing his lips. "No matter, whatever Mr. Brexington is doing, bringing his family here at so late an hour, it's a mystery to be pursued at a later time. What's most important is they saw the killer fleeing the scene of the crime."

Well, I'd certainly take this attitude from Voltar in wanting to interrogate every potential mystery brought up, like he had at the Baltaren church.

"I don't see anyone unfamiliar here not in a Watch uniform," I observed. "So I assume his interview will come later?"

"Mr. Brexington told the Watch officers to arrive on the scene that with all the danger and the excitement, his wife's constitution couldn't bear it," Voltar said. "In addition, they didn't want their children at risk, and he left his address as well as a list of times when he might be available."

"Not lacking for confidence, is he?"

Considering he'd witnessed a diabolist running out of the park like a bat out of hell, probably after clear sounds of fighting, it was certainly a daring demand of the Watch. And that assumed he knew nothing of the murders over the last couple of days.

"He is not," Voltar confirmed. "Nor did he tell the Watch how he hadn't heard the fighting going on for at least a good ten minutes and somehow only just made it to a park entrance."

"Others heard it?" I asked. Silence effects over an area were something that could be set up, and would be a good precaution.

"The witnesses who brought the Watch so quickly certainly did. And so did the Watch themselves."

Well, Brexington's presence had gone from mildly interesting to very suspicious fast. "He's not a priest of Daltaren or Covreth is he?"

Deities of business and smithing, both connected to the diabolism program and Brexington's chosen business.

"He worships both, but he is not a priest," Voltar said. "I doubt he's involved in this beyond engaging in some business he'd rather stay hidden."

Business that had caused him to ignore clear signs of ongoing fighting while he had his family along. Still, Voltar was probably right. It was a reason for maybe having him watched, but nothing worth pursuing him as our focus yet.

"Did he say anything before he retreated to his manor?"

"Only that the diabolist was moving faster than anything he's seen before," Voltar said. "Claimed that our murderer was flying away faster than any dragon, not that I think Mr. Brexington has ever seen a dragon actually push themselves in terms of speed."

"In a rush," I noted. "Must have figured there'd be Watch here fast. Otherwise, I don't know why it would leave so many alive."

"Hrrm," Voltar said. "That's the only reason you can think of?"

"If you have alternatives, I'm more than willing to hear them."

"Mercy is one," he said. "As hard as that might be to believe."

"Pretty hard," I said drily, inclining my head towards the dead body of Rebecca Chalmers.

His gaze remained focused on me. "Did the Flame not have a rule against hurting the uninvolved?"

"Shooting at you is not uninvolved," I said. "Also, you are correct. We tended to not hurt people. He left them so injured St. Lanian was required to keep them alive. You have anything else?"

"Why go for a motif of sins?" Voltar said. "We know now that it is not needed for the ritual, so it's something the killer chooses. A message. You have sinned by taking these powers, by using them. You deserve to become this. In contrast, what were the other followers of Kersov here doing besides helping out a friend?"

"Killer's a hypocrite," I said. "They're using those same powers as well, and to open up a portal to the Hells. Moral high ground disappears when you add those details."

"It does, does it not?" Voltar said. "Of course, if the killer wasn't fed all the details about the plot?"

I scrunched my face. This kind of screwy logic could be what was at play, sure, but it was a fragile kind of deception. Having your best tool for the killings be dependent on them not finding out any inconvenient truths about your operation was a sieve sure to start leaking.

"I still don't think it's right," I told him. "Chalmer's group wasn't handled gently. If there hadn't been people here right after the attack, or they hadn't been sent immediately to some of the top healers in the empire, would they be alive?"

"A fair point," Voltar conceded.

"Something else. The names were on a list," I said to Voltar. "A list we all looked at. And they happened to be two of the ones with only a single potential target for each deity. If the list is correct. Why weren't they being protected?"

"My brother swears they tried to find them, to give them protection without them knowing," Voltar said. "We were all in agreement they would be the most likely targets. They weren't able to find either of them. As for the churches, in both cases the Watch assigned to them were drawn away by fires starting nearby."

I winced. In terms of distraction, it is very effective. No one wanted a blaze starting in Avernon. Even with weather mages on hand, chunks of the city and the people inside could easily be swallowed by an inferno. And if you're trying to open a portal to the Hells inside the city, why not add arson to your list of crimes?

"He didn't just assign Watch, did he?" I asked Voltar.

"He did not," Voltar confirmed. "Two watchers at each. For one of the churches, they were found in the corner, dead without a mark on them. Autopsies will begin shortly. The second? Butchered, with their body parts thrown on the altar. Blood trails indicate they did give as good as they got."

Okay. So, not as suspicious as I initially thought, although a few watchers sounded very light in terms of protection.

"Why does it feel like this isn't being taken seriously?" I mused aloud. "You would think with the Queen's experiences, she'd respond to the idea of another Hellgate open immediately, and without any real subtlety."

Voltar simply remained quiet. No. It was impossible.

"She does know, right?" I asked incredulously. That was…..they wouldn't have not informed the Queen, if only because she might literally take their heads once she found out later. "Who actually knows about this?"

"I'm not the one in Imperial Intelligence," Voltar reminded me, and I felt the pit building in my stomach deepen. I suddenly felt like I was falling through an empty void.

"Voltar, tell me we aren't involved in some desperate attempt to have these churches save face for their failings?" I asked, perhaps a touch manically, given the subtle step he took away from me.

"No, of course not," he replied. "Now, covering up Imperial Intelligence's failings in not noticing the churches setting up a diabolism program?"

I groaned. "You cannot be serious. There's going to be a hell portal opening up, Voltar!"

"I doubt it's anything as serious as keeping people in the dark," Voltar clarified. "Merely, it is decided by everyone that being too obvious might cause unnecessary panic. We are weeks from riots in the Infernal Quarter. The last thing anyone wants is that, but spread over the entire city."

Plausible, but that felt like a stretch. Riots if it came out? Yes. But there were plenty of ways to bring force down on these conspirators with minimal risk of that.

"Samuel wanted to try and observe those who would come to desecrate them," Voltar said. "Follow them to where they had come from, where more of those ritual circles would be. Capture any compatriots who might have stayed behind."

Smart. Especially if the two we already had weren't necessary. The chances of the ritual successfully happening would go down the more of the captive souls we took away.

"I assume the two we've taken have already been destroyed?" I asked.

A pause, one where the detective seemed to actually struggle for a second before answering.

"I can't answer that question," he said.

"Can't or won't?" I asked.

"Since I haven't heard anything since suggesting they be destroyed, the former," Voltar said drily. "You aren't the only one to have their suggestions regarding those devices politely ignored."

"Arming another trap, or are they still being studied?" I guessed. They were the only reasonable motivations I could think of for why those circles would not be destroyed. Certainly not to try and use them.

"Again, something I do not know," Voltar said.

That..I could try to wrap my brain around that later. If I'd known they weren't going to be destroyed, I would have tried doing it myself while they'd still been in my house, and damn the inevitable consequences.

"And since his watchers are dead, nothing came of it," I griped.

"A bit worse than that," Voltar said. "Someone decided to write 'Intelligence' in the walls in blood."

"Part of why Gallapsie and Derrick are upset?" I asked.

"Indeed," Voltar confirmed. "They are not happy to find out their people are being tailed and given circumspect protection."

"Alas," I said. "Maybe they should have just given the names to begin with, then."

Reputation or not, the tipping point for coughing up the names should have been far before halfway to the number needed for this ritual. Hells, it should have been just one.

"How far do you think he'll push on making sure Calmer's friends didn't know about the diabolism program?" I asked. "Because I can see any further pushing having consequences we don't need."

"Kersov's church will be better than we will at protecting them," Voltar told me.

"Hrrm," I said, thinking some more. "Someone on their side has remarkably good reads on our inner dynamics, don't you think?"

Just writing 'Intelligence' on the wall wasn't much of an intimidation tactic. As a way to cause discord inside our group? Decent. It required knowing that we weren't sharing information between each other.

"Indeed," Voltar said. "It seems keeping secrets might have been the right way to go. But speaking of that, I haven't failed to keep abreast of what you've started setting in motion earlier today. What are you planning Malvia?"

"I plan on pulling a thread, maybe multiple, until it comes undone," I said. "Whoever is leading this isn't good at the leading part. Or at least the part where it comes to reassuring others, and every little pull on their scheme is going to rip a tear through it, piece by piece."

Voltar shook his head slightly. "I should have guessed as much. And do you mind sharing what this thread-pulling will entail?"

"No," I said. "Not until you share yours, I'm afraid."

"And what makes you think I have anything to share, Miss Harrow?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Mister Voltar, I think it is very unlikely I know as much involving this case as you do," I replied. "As for hiding it from me? I get that, but if you want my secrets, I get yours."

"You can layer it under politeness," Voltar said, shaking his head slightly. "Underneath, you are still rather paranoid, aren't you?"

There was a retort on my lips, but I paused. Was I-no, this was just an effort at deflection.

"Please don't engage in theatrics on my account, Voltar," I said. "Paranoid? Perhaps. And maybe you're right that this is just a mask destined to break, but don't evade the issue. Me being frozen out? Fine. I hardly came into this as an equal, and I can understand him or you deciding to freeze me out over my actions or even lingering questions about what I did to myself last night. But not destroying these circles? Using them as bait? Wanting to wait and observe? Voltar, what does Intelligence want that's worth risking hellgates sprouting across the city?"

"I don't know," he hissed, voice cracking with anger, and I stopped myself from taking an unconscious step back. "Trust me, Miss Harrow, I am only slightly less in the dark than you are, and I find it just as infuriating. But I have learned that lashing out over it accomplishes nothing, and I would prefer not to deal with any fires being set in addition to any others."

His hands were clenched, and he looked about ready to punch me. I tried and failed to remember a time he'd ever looked like this.

"I'm not doing it to just set fires," I told him in a softer tone. "I'm doing this because no one is saying anything, even inside our group. We can talk about trying to stop panic all we want, but if no one is working to disable their plan, I will gut the plan instead. I don't need you to be on board, if you don't want to help me, but I do need you to not stop me."

Voltar didn't say anything, instead nodding briefly. I returned the nod, then turned my gaze, giving him some space.

"He'll try to eject you soon," Voltar told me, that brief lapse of his already vanished under an ocean of calm. "You may not believe either of us wants you here, but it won't be his wish even if it's his hand. Do you have a plan?"

"I have at least one," I said, forcing down a twinge of irritation. Don't be angry that he won't elaborate. "Sorry, but I won't be showing my hand on that either."

"If it's Tarver's church, I would suggest at least another," Voltar said.

I hummed as I began to head back to the entrance. "I can't say I know what you're talking about, Mr. Voltar."

I wasn't worried. I had three planned. But other things needed to come first. First, I needed to see Vesper.

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