Infernal Investigations

Gregory Montague considered the person across from him in the carriage as they rode, while a discordant orchestra played in his head.

Rebecca Barnes had talked to him only a little since they’d entered the carriage, mostly very inappropriate suggestions that he could only assume were because of his reputation.

Honestly, the way she’d suggested a few things, it was as if she expected him to try kissing her as soon as they were out of public view. Gregory was in the business of romance, which, yes, sometimes meant women who may or may not already be in relationships.

Tarver liked a specific romance and encouraged it. It just was the kind where jealous family members of whomever you romanced got very angry at you. Most of the time for even daring, and some of the time for making their family member realize something about themselves they didn’t want to.

But forgetting that, Barnes had never once stopped smiling since entering the carriage. It was…uncomfortable, especially the large, toothy ones where the corners of Malvia’s mouth threatened to go beyond his view, they stretched so far from side to side.

Malvia smiled, to be sure, but after her entire rant about masks, how many of those had been genuine, he couldn’t say. When speaking at the party, with Lady Karsin, with others. He’d assumed all of those pleasing smiles had been fake. The smaller ones, those he liked to think were real. He’d been there for a few of those in private. Smug satisfaction when things were going her way.

But, that expression was anything but smiles. Anger, frustration, worry. Malvia seemed to scowl at near everything in the world at times, and she never seemed to realize she was doing it either.

Anger was the first emotion he’d seen on her face, a much different face than when they’d first met. He’d been poking around a ransacked apartment on an errand to make sure Edward would stay alive when she’d stormed onto the scene. All scowls, she’d barely given him a chance to talk before wrestling him to the ground.

Not the best way to meet. Certainly not the worst way he’d met people. A few foul notes from the violin when they’d met, a little signal from his god. He hadn’t even been interested then, just focused on staying alive and with his throat unbitten.

He’d thought it just a little joke to make back then, about ending up in her stew pot. That had been before he watched her tear someone’s throat out with her teeth.

Barnes’ grin shrank a little, just so she could talk. “I hate to bring it up again, but I really would appreciate if you’d let me adjust my clothes some.”

He rolled his eyes. “Like the last two times, no, I do mind being in the same carriage when a lady I am not currently courting-”

“Liar,” Barnes interjected. “Also, she’s not a lady. Also, from your reputation-”

“You assume an awful lot between me and her that hasn’t happened yet,” Gregory said. “And just because I sleep around doesn’t mean I’m fine with everything, especially when you’re not in a body that’s yours. And I didn’t mean lady in the noble sense.”

“Neither did I.”

Gregory frowned. “Why do you hate her? I thought her words earlier perhaps a little cruel, but hardly deserving of this.”

Barnes was quiet, eyes unfocused before she spoke up again. “She has something denied to me, and doesn’t even realize what a gift she has. But also I am chafing against something else as well. But all barbs aside, I do think I need to adjust my undergarments.”

“There’ll be rooms at the Maldern’s house where you can do that.”

“You have already seen her with quite a bit of skin bared by your culture’s standard,” Barnes quipped, the face-splitting grin somehow stretching wider. “What’s a little more.”

Gregory didn’t respond, mind going back to when he’d seen that skin. The massage yes, but another time, scorched red and blistered, practically charred at his own hands. He’d been so worried she’d be dead, and what she might think when she rose up to see all of her fellow Infernals burned to a crisp around her.

He hadn’t expected a joke, not with the smell of cooking flesh filling the room, not with his stomach roiling at just the thought of how many lives he’d just ended. That night…Calab’s body, the assault on the guests ending with blood and burnt corpses everywhere, crashing down on that horrific thing the shapechanger had become through the roof. A night of horrors.

She’d wanted to dance in the remnants of all that, among the dead bodies.

There were so many moments like that. She could be so witty, charming, open, and vulnerable and then she was cackling on top of a chimney while pouring acid into someone’s face. So seemingly eager to ‘accidentally’ arrange for them to end up in a private corner while subtly encouraging him to kiss her, then threatening to stab his brother with a knife just based on suspicions.

It was, to be completely honest with himself, the kind of behavior that should not have him so tempted to go along with her in those moments when she seemed to be acting out a romance novel.

He shouldn’t be interested. She’d as good as told him not to be interested during that rant in the manor where she’d practically spilled Diabolism all over the room. A diabolist and a cleric. A noble and a commoner. An Infernal and a human. So many things stating this shouldn’t work, that it would be better to find someone more outgoing. Tarver’s ideology was to make sure as many were as happy as possible, and he didn’t even know where to start with Malvia.

So why did his thoughts keep turning to her all the damn time? Maybe it was just the amount of time they’d been near each other, the strange impact she’d made in that short of a time. He’d dealt with those less fortunate than him at the temple so many times, including those who’d been involved in a life of crime.

This was different.

Musings on Malvia and all the strange things she caused to float through his mind aside, there was one part of Barnes’ comment he hadn’t missed.

“My culture’s standard?” Gregory rephrased her earlier statement. “I take from that comment you aren’t from anywhere in the Anglean empire.”

“Oh yes,” Barnes replied. “I was a passenger just passing through this little country of yours-” Little? The Anglean Empire was present on three continents alone! “-and I got entangled in a web. Until I get myself free, here I remain it seems.”

The conversation lulled, while the discordant orchestra played. A little gift from Tarver, just a hint, a warning. Ever since he’d met Malvia a single violin played off-key inside his mind.

However, every time he looked at Barnes, the discordant strings were worse than ever before—far more of a warning than the seemingly bloodthirsty Infernal Diabolist.

He didn’t always listen to his god’s warning about who he courted and seduced, half the fun was those Tarver considered the most dangerous. After all, the warning was never to go near this one, more to just be aware of what you may be getting into.

If Malvia Harrow earned a very discordant violin, Barnes having a whole orchestra was perhaps a sign to leave well enough alone. The attempted flirting and innuendo continuing after they’d left had put to bed the idea that it had only been to mess with Miss Harrow.

“I don’t suppose they have something special on the menu for this meal?” Barnes said as she looked outside into the streets. “Beef of some kind perhaps? I need to get into character. What’s that phrase she uses? ‘Put on the mask’?”

The chance of that squabbling before being some kind of charade or light teasing disappeared further into the ether.

“You heard about the incident with the cows?” he asked, tone carefully guarded. There were many questions he had about that particular incident, especially since Malvia had seemed so reluctant to answer anything, which left a dozen different explanations fighting for why she’d seemed so embarrassed and horrified when he and Elise had entered that abattoir.

Had it been of the horror of what she was doing? Or just because she’s been caught? Was it something she needed to do, or wanted?

“Of course I did,” Barnes said dismissively. “Who do you think helped bring the cows in? They also had to help clean them up?”

“I imagine it was quite a mess,” he said carefully.

“She’s not the most clean of eaters, no,” Barnes said. “You were in the room after. Did she say why she wanted to eat ten cows raw?”

“No, although I assume she didn’t literally eat them,” Gregory said.

Barens snorted. “Of course not, she didn’t suddenly gain several hundred pounds. Devil’s magic, more than likely.”

“She uses it often?”

Barnes smiled. “Lord Montague, are you fishing for information on Miss Harrow?”

“I think asking how often a Diabolist I work with is using the Infernal arts might be pertinent information,” he said. “But yes, I am fishing as well. Although I’m not sure if I’ve caught the kind of fish I want.”

“But too much of a pull on the lines?” The fake Malvia said, that face-splitting grin back on, pointed teeth far too close a reminder of what that pull was.

He smiled slightly. “I’m used to pulls, Miss Barnes. Even a full-on war with the fish at times. This is…I suppose it’s not antagonism from her that is the issue.”

“You’re worried you fell in love with a crazy person,” she said flatly, eyes gleaming. “I suppose I could answer that, but you probably see me as biased already.”

“It’s hard not to.”

“Well, at the end of the day, I’ll be truthful if you still want to ask. You can judge then if I’m lying.”

***

Within half an hour, they’d arrived and been escorted to a small, two-person table at the outskirts.

“Lovely day for a party, isn’t it?” Barnes asked as she sipped a cup of Duke Beige.

Gregory snorted. Above them, rain splattered hard against a magical shield, a dome projected by the Maldern’s house mages to keep the rain off their guest's heads while another kept a conjured fake sun in place to give the illusion of a normal day.

Unfortunately, being so close to the outskirts, particularly violent drops of water were sending water splattering over his and Barnes’ shoes.

Their place in this had been carefully picked out, Gregory was sure. Father had a decent enough relationship with Lord Maldern to arrange seating, so shock of shocks, they weren’t just on the outskirts of the party, but nestled between people who were more focused on staring daggers at him instead of drinking tea and socializing.

Well, most glared daggers. Triss Bellman, Jacob Mandrake, and Mary Fellstone all were looking very cordially at him.

Less so for the person sitting across from him. For her pretty much everyone had angry glares. Close to.

“You seem to have made quite a number of friends,” Barnes said as she gave the surrounding families a friendly grin. “Let me guess, this is all because of your nightly activities?”

“Some of them,” he admitted. “Others are a little less about what I do during my nights and instead what I do during the day.”

“Weird, I’d think this crowd would find a cleric of Tarver a popular person,” Barnes said, leaning back in her chair.

“Really? You wonder why a bunch of the nobility, who are friends with my father, would find me objectionable?”

“Most nobles I’ve dealt with tend to be on the more libertine side I suppose,” Barnes said, giving one of the Fellstone daughters a wink that got a fair few gasps from shocked family over that Infernal’s daring! Unfortunately, it looked like some of them were tempted to get up and drill what a bad idea that had been into Barnes’ head personally.

“Don’t start a riot,” Gregory said. “And ease off that. You’re not doing a good job at impersonating her.”

Malvia’s face formed into that more familiar scowl she wore when she didn’t think anyone was looking. Barnes snapped her fingers, and now a different voice spoke in Gregory’s ear, much higher in tone than Malvia’s and with an accent he couldn’t place.

“Do not start hinting that I’m not Malvia, no matter how low you think your voice is,” Barnes hissed in his ear. “And don’t question my methods. All you need to know is they’ll work.”

He paused, a response on the tip of his tongue. He’d been about to chastise her for how unlike Malvia she was acting, but best to keep his mouth shut.

“Any specific event this is supposed to be celebrating?” Barnes asked. “Because no one seems that interested in talking with each other.”

That was true in the sense no one was venturing outside their tables to talk with each other. Discussion between people at the different tables was quite lively and spoke to good placement of the guests that people who would be interested in catching up with each other were seated at the same tables.

Which made it even more glaring that he and Barnes were at a table by themselves.

“Status,” Gregory said. “It’s just showing off what good hosts the Maldern’s are. And their social clout in getting so many people involved in the most controversial event of this month to attend.”

A fair number of guests from that party had ended up here as well. He’d traded polite nods with Daven, and less polite ones with Kalrivers. He sat with the Harton sisters, both of whom were deliberately looking anywhere but at Barnes. Kalrivers entire clique had decided against the fake Infernal accessories this time. Good, bringing them would be in poor taste. Most of them joined the Hartons in not looking at Barnes’ disguise as Malvia either, with the exception of Kalrivers who stared very intently.

She had noticed and was busy batting her eyelashes at him.

“You don’t seem too interested in stopping me from making eyes at yon stud,” Barnes noted wryly.

Gregory snorted. He hadn’t been entirely sure if the blatant flirting was meant to actually be serious with Kalrivers, or just trying to bait a reaction out of him. He had an answer now.

“Make eyes at him all you want,” Gregory said. “If you went through with it, I’m pretty sure you’d have your flesh torn out of you by a certain someone before the day is out.”

Barnes’ was already sinking a rather low opinion of her with every word out of her mouth, to be frank. Sleeping with someone else in the body of another? He’d hoped that fool idea had been sunk when the scandal with the Kitsune had nearly led to a whole batch of inter-family feuds.

Then again, she might not be a noble. But that still left the original owner of the body to take her revenge. Whatever his feelings on some of the other things Malvia had done or suggested, that would not be something anyone should tolerate.

“She’s already poisoned me once,” Barnes said. “She’ll probably just do that again.”

That did not sound like a lie, but Gregory held his tongue. Still, the fact he could picture Malvia doing that…worrying.

“Besides, I wouldn’t actually do it,” she said. “Just lead him on and see how big of an explosion would happen when he met Malvia after. But you were talking about notoriety?”

“Most of the guests from the party are here. Those willing to venture into public so soon after. It’s the event of the year, and everyone being here means all eyes on this party. Again, status.”

Barnes snorted. “Oh, so already this entire mess has eclipsed those fool youth comrades of yours messing around with that Kitsune?”

“Amazingly, I think death, destruction, and diabolically allied shapechangers killing and impersonating people do win the crown for most dramatic thing so far this year,” Gregory said. “Especially after the newspapers spent so much on reporting it. Murder over sex scandals they weren’t even allowed to report on.”

“You think impersonating the queen would get someone some notoriety,” Barnes said in a bitter tone.

Gregory was about to ask what that was about when a sudden uproar drew his attention. A new coach, one with the Montague crest.

But everyone in the family who could come is -no.

Exiting the coach was Elise. And Edward. Both of whom were moving towards the party as excited chatter picked up. It would be the first time Edward had been in public in weeks.

“That’s not my sister or brother,” Gregory said, then began softly humming a tune. “Elise should still be at the Archive.”

Oh Tarver, with a tune, I call upon your help, for I fear your servant may need it soon.

“Hrrm, they could have finished early,” Miss Barnes replied, looking at the probable shape-changer.

“And my older brother?” Gregory asked.

A rhetorical one, Edward hadn’t been seen since Father had sequestered him on the third floor and no one had been willing to challenge that. Not when Father had made it more than clear anyone trying to sneak in would be treated as a shapechanger and shot on sight. The screaming had stopped, so the hopes were for a better outcome.

Of course, if it was better, then Father wouldn’t have hidden him away. There was a small hope that maybe it was just from injury, or to recuperate from the ravages of the poison.

If only they could see him.

Tarver, let this just be unfounded paranoia, but your servant may need your aid, Gregory thought as Elise weaved her way through the crowd toward them. Edward hung back, talking with his father who seemed very uncomfortable but not shocked to see him.

Gregory wasn’t sure if that meant good or bad things for Edward’s current state. He was more focused on the probable changer.

“Brother, how wonderful it is to see you!” the changer said as she got closer, arms outstretched for a hug. Definitely not his sister, not so openly in public.

Gregory’s humming suddenly grew in volume as he stood up to return the hug, the divine protection of his deity ready to spring into being. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about hurting Malvia with it.

“It’s very good to see you as well sister,” he said as she got closer. “I thought you were going to busy today, did things clear up?”

“In a manner of speaking,” she said, stopping and waving her hand dismissively. Something about the motion caught his eye as she stopped.

“Something more important needs to happen first.”

One of her fingers, looking strangely thick suddenly shot forward, the tip reflecting the sun as it stabbed forward, forming into a dagger’s point. He dodged to the side, but he wasn’t the target.

The shifting digit rammed right through Barnes’ eye.