I didn't leave Vesper's immediately.

First, it was really good tea. The kind I could never justify spending money on myself. So I wasn't gone until the pot was completely empty. I had a little time to spare, and a few other things I wanted to check with the more experienced diabolist while I had access to her.

Specifically, my theory about the killer's position as a savant who'd come into their power without much control, and how it should be leaving marks on their person.

"-and whoever it is, they clearly are throwing around quite a bit of Diabolism," I said, having gone over each of the crime scenes not done by another party. "Summoning devils in the corpses, animated statues, an entire large pond turned into bubbling muck. If someone lived long enough to have that much raw power, they generally should have learned how to restrict that much loose diabolism from pouring out. Even complicated and powerful workings shouldn't have that much loose energy."

"Or they could just be an Infernal who has inherited a large amount of raw diabolism from a noble ancestor, like yourself."

"No," I mused. "The first victim was not on guard when the killer attacked him first, and while he has dealings with some Infernals, I doubt he'd be relaxed around them."

Even if Father Reginald did not share the opinions so many of his peers had on Infernals, the only ones I knew he had dealings with were Holmsteader's group. Not the kind of people you became relaxed around.

"Your theory has holes," Alberta told me in between dainty nibbles of her pastry. "I do agree it's probably a savant, and your basics aren't wrong, but there are ways to bypass it."

"Drat," I said flatly. "Well, that's one avenue closed off. The bypass?"

She polished off one of the pastries, cleaning her mouth with a napkin before continuing. "It could technically be possible to regularly channel such a large amount of diabolism without preparation, practice, or natural resistances if one were regularly purged of all traces by divine magic. Very intense and powerful divine magic, in order to reverse the effects, and not without its own issues."

Well, that was unfortunate. If it were a conspiracy inside the diabolism program, the various people involved wouldn't lack access to that.

"Its own issues?" I pressed.

"It's not easy on the body," Alberta said. "The body can adjust to Diabolism, assuming the warping mutations don't kill you, but frequently corrupting and then purging one's self leaves the body off-kilter and unable to adjust. Alternatively, if the killer is willing to spend souls to guide the changes, they could do ones that are not visible on the surface, and with the right gifts, can be hidden from magical senses. But that would be quite a few souls. Usually, you would have a devil help, but how cut off things are."

"Rituals," I countered. "They can guide, and generally are how those things are done anyway."

"Also ruinously expensive," Vesper said. "Oh, more minor things, those can be done easily, considering the sheer power of a soul, but things like liches, genies, ascension of various kinds following the paths carved out by dragons and such? Trying to brute force that chews up plenty of souls. And the more you use, the more dangerous path you tread unless the guiding ritual is perfect."

"So a dead end for now," I mused. "Well, I thank you for your time Mrs. Vesper. I'll hopefully see you in the future, but I have more appointments I must make."

"Well, I hope your next is pleasant," Alberta replied, and my smile thinned.

"I assure you, it won't."

***

It took time to get back the Quarter. Unavoidable, but irritating as I weaved in and out of the crowd on the streets.

Finding a carriage willing to take an Infernal had been difficult. Finding one willing to go on the edge on the Quarter had been expensive. One willing to go into the Quarter? Impossible.

So I'd come the rest of the way on foot, aware of each minute ticking away. I'd make it before noon, but not by much,

Near Carnley's, the crowd didn't so much thin as completely vanish, the press of people disappearing. There was a loose circle of people around it, all of them pretending to be absorbed in various tasks. I walked through without concern. If they wanted to shoot me, it would be at the end of this

Inside Carnley's was a pretense that things were business as normal. Conversation, eating, drinking, Carnley and his staff at their normal spots, but you could lick the underlying tension off the floor if you wanted to. Also the lack of smoke. You always had smokers in Carnley's. Versalicci hated the smell though, and what Versalicci wanted Versalicci got.

There wouldn't be anyone in here besides the staff who wasn't Flame.

Speaking of Versalicci, he'd claimed a table in the middle, absorbed into a newspaper he was reading. He looked up as I came through front door.

"Malvia," Versalicci said, peering at me over the top of the newspaper, a sandwich and a cup of coffee set out in front of him, the latter still steaming. "It is true. You do look like a fish."

I wasn't going to dignify that with a response. Not until I'd had a chance to eat myself. I went to the counter first, the two Flame sitting there moving to either side. Carnley himself eye me with barely hidden distaste.

"Mr. Carnley," I said. "Are you still serving at the moment, or are you closed?"

"We're open," Carnley said bluntly. "What are you ordering?"

I took it slow, a full minute to outline my order. All the while I listened to people fake conversations, or increasingly whispered wondering of exactly how much of the Boss' time I was going to waste. Finally I got to the end, and Carnley spat a price back out at me.

"This is about ten times the listed price," I said, raising an eyebrow.

"You essentially shut down my entire business for a day with this stunt," Carnley hissed. "Count yourself lucky it's only ten times the price, Harrow."

Well, I couldn't really argue with that. I paid, and the old man retreated towards where his staff were, while I headed over to the table. I took the chair opposite, sitting down while not giving a sign of worry about the crowd of Black Flame currently surrounding me.

Service was fast, because I didn't have a chance to start talking before my sandwhich was delivered by a very nervous looking waiter.

"Thank you!" I said as he scurried away, then took the top off as I hunted for the mustard.

"Really, Gio, denying an honest Infernal good coin by chasing away all his other customers?" I asked while spreading the mustard on top of my sandwich. If only I had the time, I would have gotten some things from home to help enhance the taste.

"All of my people paid for their food," Versalicci said, paper rustling as he turned a page. "And listening to you pretend to care about it is ruining my appetite."

"Sorry, I didn't intend to," I replied, finishing and putting the bread back on top. "Anything interesting in the paper?"

"Page four is about you," he deadpanned. "They call you a soul-sucking whore whose mere existence alongside Voltar indicates that the detective can no longer be trusted to have any sense of moral, character, or good judgments?"

"Really?" I said cheerily, grinning and forcing down a surge of anger. "Let me read it, please."

Giovanni finally lowered the newspaper all the way, staring at me the way I'd gotten used to Aunt Diwei looking when she'd merely considered me some strange animal. Eventually she'd let me graduate to personhood, which is when that had turned into utter hate.

"I think her brain finally broke," he muttered, seemingly to himself.

"Not yet," I said. "The world did do its best, but then a fox came along and helped stitch it back together."

"The kitsune," Versalicci said bluntly. "How much of your brain has it rooted around and modified, Malvia?"

"Less than you would think," I replied. "None of what this is due to her though. This was my idea."

"Really, I expected more out of you," Versalicci said, tone cold. "Threatening to kill our people until I deigned to offer you a meeting? You really have let your thirst for blood get the better of you."

"Oh piss off Gio," I said before tearing into my sandwich again.

Clicks as hands tightened on triggers all around me, but with a glance from Versalicci, they all loosened up once again.

Teeth sliced through bread, meat, vegetables as I enjoyed the taste, taking my time as Versalicci continued to stare. Credit to him, he didn't appear irritated in the slightest at how long I was taking, but I'm sure this was grating on him. Being forced to meet someone else on their terms, oh that would needle.

"I wouldn't have to resort to this if you were easier to find," I said as I finished my bite of the sandwich. "Nor would I need to, if you didn't owe me."

"Really?" Versalicci asked, sounding bemused. "What would I owe you for?"

"Malachti and Mitlau trying to kill me for doing what you asked me to, for starters," I said after swallowing. "Really, you threaten to kill my mother to force me to comply, then you set those two on me right after I find her? Bad form, brother, you wait until all the conditions of the deal are met before you try to kill the other party."

Actually, you didn't, not in the Flame. All deals with other Infernals to be upheld, although me being a traitor might change that. However, there were some standards upheld within the game, and Versalicci was going to learn he should have made this meeting private.

"Now, killing me, I can see from a screwy brain like what rests in those two's heads," I said, wiping my mouth with a napkin. "Malachti and Mitlau, they see a problem, they kill the problem, simple as. Malachti pretends to have other thoughts, but they inevitably return to either violence or prodding other people into being violent. Now, them doing that with me, I understand fully. Them doing that with some poor old Infernal I'd hired to drive a cart? That seems a bit out of character. Them yanking out his horns and stabbing them through his eyes for helping me try to rescue one of your people?"

The fake conversation around me was dying down now. The window dressing brought in to kill me was taking an interest, and I was making sure to be loud enough they could hear.

The first part of the bind of having brought witnesses entirely from his own gang. If he'd been willing to have me killed from the start, well, he wanted the deck stacked in his favor as much as possible for that contingency. But now they were witnesses, he couldn't afford to show weakness in front of them, nor could he go back on his fake principles. Because the Black Flame was a gang, yes, but it was a gang that recruited through a cause.

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How many would have that weigh out the benefits of being part of another gang? Now that he had to consolidate all over again and there was other game in town? Holmsteader was just one of a dozen rivals near him in terms of power and what they gave to their loyal soldiers. What the Flame had at this point was its history. And its history was not killing Infernals for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Versalicci looked at me, not betraying any doubt or weakness.

"The two of them may have been pursuing orders that they did not realize the full breadth of," he said eventually. "They were dispatched to handle traitors. Not you, specifically, but my most recent set."

"You're right," I said. "Perhaps they just got carried away."

Almost imperceptible tightening across his face before he quickly took control of his expression. So fast, you might think it's just your eyes tricking you.

Saying that Malachti and Mitlau had gotten carried away wasn't something he wanted to do either. It would indicate a lack of control, which would be dangerous. Especially since he'd been fool enough to stick devils inside them. He needed to pretend he had full control over them, even if he didn't.

My current guess on that was that while those two were still obeying orders, they weren't above creatively reinterpreting them. Especially if it was to sate whatever devils he'd decided to stick in their heads.

"Not carried away, just not fully understanding all the details of what was going on," he said.

That didn't explain the decision to execute Jones, but I would let that slide for now.

"It's been a few different favors you've asked me to do for you without anything in return," I said. "Coerced, to be more accurate. Now I'm nearly getting killed at your people's hands. So I think I'm owed a favor."

"Perhaps," Versalicci said. "You have quite the way of asking for it, Malvia."

I sighed. "Again, the threat is there to get your attention. Apologies to everyone here about threatening you, but you know how it can be with the boss. All the meetings, wine tastings, piano practice."

That got no small amount of derisive snorting from the assorted Flame members, although a few snickers as well. Poking at the boss was a time-honored tradition in the Flame. Versalicci encouraged it to seem more approachable. It did not seem to be something he enjoyed right now, and all the noise silenced as he looked around at everyone.

"But you are right, I am being a pain," I told him. "Tell you what, I'll sweeten the pot a little bit."

"Really?" He said icily. "How?"

"Disarming myself of other weapons I could use on you," I said. "I guess less sweetening and more taking the bitter out. I'll swear an oath not to use the insurance, which is why you shouldn't just kill me."

"Perhaps you should have led with that," he said. "What is the insurance?"

"Accounts of my time in the Flame," I replied. "They might be completely useless if the information inside is already known, but well, neither you nor I know that for sure do we?"

"Written accounts, I presume."

"Not the only copy, obviously," I told him. "If I were to suddenly come to a swift and sudden end, unfortunately, additional copies that I may have distributed to various people might find their way into the hands of the Wach, Voltar, and many other people who may have grudges against you."

"You seem very confident that your arrangements will work out perfectly," Versalicci observed, and tapped the side of the tea cup again.

Click went a hammer very close by, and I turned around to see the pistol pointed at my head. I didn't recognize the wielder at all, a redhead with curling horns and a scarred slit where their left eye had been. Not that I'd been able to recall any of the faces in here.

"You seem remarkably sure that they won't fail to hurt you," I replied. "Do you really want to roll the dice on that?"

"Do you want to roll the dice on the Imperials believing your account of events?"

"I don't care what contacts you've built up among the Imperial government since you've resurfaced, Gio," I said cheerfully. "I don't need to deal with any of them deciding to shield you. All I need to do is tell another person in the investigation that you are helping obstruct it, and he'll happily smite your skull with his holy sword. You perhaps have heard of him, Bishop Matthew Gallaspie?"

There was no pretense of other conversation in Carnly's now. The half-capacity sandwich shop had eyes fixed on me from every table at the mention of the bishop's name, and weapons were now fully on display, held in hand with Black Flames tattooed across their skin. Carnly and staff had completely disappeared. Smart on my brother's part in hindsight, not for a reason he probably anticipated.

Now, when he backed down, only his followers would be here to witness it instead of people from all over the Quarter.

"Needless to say," I said, reaching again for my sandwich. "If I, for some reason, find myself exhumed at any point today, some people will take the message to the good bishop that I was killed in the course of trying to find the Priest-Killer. And that the most likely culprit is you. Of course, it shouldn't need to happen, since I so sincerely doubt that my dear and loving brother would ever mean me harm, but my superiors insisted."

Gio's lips twitched towards an ugly scowl before he mastered himself. Weapons were quietly being put away at a single snap of his fingers. I took another bite of my sandwich while he thought, pointed teeth ripping through cheese and sliced ham.

"I don't think your superiors know what you're doing at all," he replied. "And Matthew Gallaspie believing you seems very far-fetched. Does he truly trust you enough to take your word for it?"

I swallowed. "A fair point. But all I need to do in that case is testify, under a truth spell, or even Halspus' holy light, no matter how painful, that the Black Flame is up to its neck in this entire mess. And even if some of what Melissa told me is true, well, it's not a good look. Knowing where one of those ritual circles was, a band of Black Flame diabolists, having another one they've clearly been sacrificing to, supposedly having deserted your organization. It's not a good look."

"Ritual circles?" he asked me, seeming genuinely puzzled.

Skilled liar that he was, I couldn't tell if he was telling the truth or lying.

"It's very convincing, Gio," I confessed. "I can't tell one way or another, but I think it matters not to the Bishop. And even if he finds out after driving that holy sword through your skull and stabbing it through mine next, you're still dead, aren't you?"

"You seem very blasé about us both ending up down there," Versalicci said drily.

"That's presuming there's anything left of us to get drawn down there when the bishop is done," I replied. "Or anything left when that place is done with us. For all that you love talking with those down there, there's a difference between that and living in it."

"And since when have you been there to know better than I have?" He replied.

"Yesterday morning and afternoon," I replied, and now even the whispered conversations around us died off after that pronouncement. "Brother, brother, did you think I decided to emulate a shark in appearance because I wanted to?"

It was entirely possible he did think my new appearance was some experiment in Biosculpting. He seemed taken aback, and I liked to think I could see those turning gears in his head slip just a little from this new revelation.

"In truth, I believe you look more like a fish than a shark," he said evenly.

"Either is fine with me," I lied. "But yes, I have been down there. But on what is currently going on up here, that's about the end of the treats I have arrayed against you. So, do you still want me shot?"

"It depends. Do I get anything out of this little arrangement besides threats?" Versalicci asked.

"That's fair," I conceded. "Hardly want to make this seem like I'm coercing you, Gio. I'd hate for our relationship to be reduced to just that. I'm assuming that you being proved to not have anything to do with this foolish plot to open a Hellgate isn't sufficient?"

"I think I'll get that regardless," he replied. "I have the utmost faith in Edmund Voltar to ferret out the truth, regardless of whether you're helping him or not. And if they choose to blame me to make one of their own look good, will you be able to argue them out of it?"

"No, I suppose I would not," I admitted, slumping backward in my chair. "Let me see. If she's involved in this, would Holmsteader's head suffice? I can imagine you would love to take over Glee Street if the current owners were sufficiently weakened."

Versalicci seemed genuinely taken aback. Was he pretending to have a moral standard here?

"She's involved?" He asked cautiously.

Oh. Well, I suppose I shouldn't be shocked he didn't immediately know everything in the Quarter. Not anymore.

"I have it from a very trustworthy source she might be," I replied. "Perhaps not up to the tops of those garish suits she wears, but she knows more than she's pretended too."

"A trustworthy source?" He repeated.

"You're not getting a name," I replied. "Holmsteader has not purged a single employee since supposed revelations about Mr. Tyler and seems to be taking an extremely light touch to how she's treated her people since."

"I want to know one thing about Voltrar," Versalicci said. "I don't need Holmsteader's head."

"And what would that one thing be?" I asked Versalicci. "Keeping in mind that I don't need this badly enough to help you kill him."

"Hardly anything like that," Versalicci said. "I want to know the full list of cases he consulted on in the last year."

I raised an eyebrow. Well, I could puzzle out exactly what he got from that later.

"Done."

"For right now, we have an agreement," he said, getting up from the table. "I suppose now I get to find what you want from me? If it's anything too onerous, the deal is off."

"Shouldn't be," I said. "I just need you to get Alice out of the city."

He blinked once, twice, thrice. "I'm sorry, could you say that again?"

"I'd like for you to arrange Alice's departure from the city," I said. "By today, if possible."

Someone let out a choked, disbelieving laugh near the bar I chose to ignore. Everyone else seemed more interested in staring at me like I'd decided to start declaring myself the Queen of Anglea.

"You arranged all of this," Gio said, tone disbelieving but gaining anger as he spoke. "Took time out of my day, threatened my people, threatened me thrice, because you wanted to get Alice Skall a train ticket?"

"I want Alice Skall to have a train ticket that can't be traced by Imperial Intelligence or the Watch," I replied. "Which I believe makes this ticket metaphorical. But yes."

He stared at me, a few emotions warring to be shown on his face, but eventually they all sank into an expression of complete neutrality. "It can be arranged."

"Well then," I said cheerily. "I suppose with that we can consider this meeting over?"

"Where is Melissa, Malvia?" he asked.

I considered blowing the question off, then considered the others around me. Hands had been creeping back to weapons. There would always be a line I couldn't cross without getting a bullet, and this felt like it.

"She's at the latest crime scene," I said. "When I left, she was scouring it for any clue she could find, but I imagine by now she's worked her way to trying and get information out of any of the people still on the scene."

"I do not need her rubbing elbows with Voltar, Malvia," Versalicci said in a low tone. "The Black Flame gains nothing, and she is right next to people who will not hesitate to capture her. She is at risk every second she is there."

"She is somewhat at risk," I corrected him. "Voltar is ultimately not the kind of person for that, and Gallaspie will restrain himself if only because his whole group has an overhanging threat called anyone revealing what he and his people got up to."

Needed to keep that vague, if only so none of the Flame members felt the need to talk. Keep it to vague rumors about the Bishop, ones I could blame on him not being very popular among people. Especially ones he tended to kill.

"So no, she is safe, and she's doing what you should be doing," I told him. "Which is realizing that you can't hide underneath this one, Gio. They will overturn whatever rock you choose to worm your way under."

Versalicci glowered at me. "Never compare me or any of our kind to a worm, Malvia. Never. You really have spent too much time around people like Gallaspie to be saying things like that."

"Yes, just insinuate that Gallaspie and I are getting close enough in viewpoint to start sharing each other's world views," I said. "Almost like we were becoming chums. Save it for a time when he's around. I could use a laugh. I'm not being inaccurate. Your plan is to hope this entire thing blows over, isn't it? Unfortunately for you, that won't work anymore."

"Really?" he said, arching an eyebrow. "Let's presume your assumptions about my plan are correct. Why wouldn't it work?"

"Easy enough," I said. "It depends on being overlooked. That's no longer an option. This entire mess is barely being kept from the public, and that'll come undone sooner rather than later. People know you realized Donald Tyler was a diabolist and killing people off. People know it's Diabolists from the Black Flame who are helping in the plot. That alone is bad enough, but who was the last person to have city-wide ambitions and be willing to reach to the Infernal planes for help? Who was just last month involved in a plot involving shapechangers targeting the aristocracy of our country?"

He didn't point out that the last one was a misrepresentation of what had actually happened. It didn't matter. What mattered was what the public believed when you hunted for a scapegoat to fit a noose around.

Silence now, then he sighed, a resigned, angry thing that felt like it ate at his soul to let out. He tapped his cup three times.

People got up, started leaving, but I didn't let my gaze leave his face.

"It's crude and rather heavy on the threats," he said as the last of his people left, leaving only the two of us. "But I suppose even brutal, overwhelming force has it's way of occasionally getting what it wants. I have a way to leave without Intelligence noticing, yes. Dolmer and 32nd, near the old butchery. Late this afternoon. I will have an oath on our father's name you will destroy or disarm your threats when it's done. All of them."

The kind of oath where going back on it would have the parts of me from that devil try to end my life if I went back on it. "Certainly."

He paused a moment before heading out. "This seems quite the departure from how you usually are, Malvia. Would you have actually carried out your threats if I said no?"

My grin deepened. "I gave what you said to me some thought. And it struck me that if you are right, that I only care about one person, well, removing the one person willing to threaten her to get things out of me, that should be the top of the priority list. What you should be asking, brother dearest, is what I would do that I didn't say."

"Hrrm," was his only comment before he finally left.

And with that, he was gone, leaving me alone with a half-eaten sandwich on my thoughts.

In the end, this was interesting because it had worked. I'd expected him to stall, or deny the accusation about Mitlau and Malachti, or just threaten my mother again. Instead, it seemed the threat of having old information on the Flame exposed was enough.

Then again, what did I know about my half-brother? Under it all, he was a traitor, a coward, and one who preferred to hide. And for right now, I was relatively protected while he was searching for a good rock to hide under. I was a threat he wasn't sure he could kill just yet without attracting more attention, so for now, find out what he could, then decide if I needed a knife or another method of handling before making for that nice cool rock underside.

I'm removing the rock brother, I thought as I stared at the door he'd just left through. Let's see where you run.

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