The sll was better than before. It still seared the insides of my nostrils, sulfur and rot mixing and traveling down to churn in my stomach. I pressed the rag harder against my face, hand steadying myself against the doorfra as I forced it to calm.
I needed the extra ti, as I looked around the store, eyes widening. Moving around would be…difficult.
It had been an anchor once. Maybe. I wasn’t sure what the hunk of rusted tal maybe ten feet in front of had been. Crimson barnacles were nestled among the rust, webs of flesh stretching between portions of it. My hand crept towards my revolver as so of them opened. White pus dribbled out of them as tendrils of bone pushed out, finger bone after finger bone pushing free as I hurriedly backed away from it, trying to open up distance without provoking it. They moved through the air like a snake waiting to strike, ends opening up so pale tongues could taste the air.
“Move,” trill said behind , all mirth gone from her voice.
I didn’t hesitate. She was better equipped for this than I was.
Divine light ca to her hands making my eyes water, and the bone snakes reacted imdiately. Quick as a whip, they jabbed forward.
My saber intercepted one, chopping where two bones t. The severed end fell to the ground, while the other two continued onward.
I closed my eyes just as trill’s hand flashed white. I bit my tongue as my entire face burned, a mont of inferno before I could open my eyes again. Ashes drop to the ground while the remnants of the snakes pull back, white pus leaking from them.
The severed end of the third slithered along the ground, rushing towards trill. I ramd the point of my saber into one of the sections, bone cracking as I pinned it to the ground. My hoof slamd into the head, bone cracking, sothing pulping underneath with a tiny shriek.
The skin of my hoof burned mildly, sothing spilling from the crushed shell seeking its match inside , and I hurriedly scraped the bits of it off on the floor.
I let out a breath seeing that the barnacles on the anchor were closed now. trill had her arm still shrouded in light, pointed directly at them.
“I’ve encountered diabolism more tis than I wish to count,” trill said, tone dead serious. “From all those tis, I would think the diabolism should have spread to the outside walls?”
“Yes,” I agreed, looking past the anchor to what else lay inside the store. “It definitely should have.”
The inside of the store was wrecked. Shelves had once lined the wall, now burnt and still smoldering. Clusters of fibers moved inside the burnt remnants, so of them waving in the air. Searching.
Well, that wasn’t good. They were thickening as well, and so looked less like wood and more like tendons or other innards. One oozed forth, dull red liquid left streaked in its length as it pushed free of a smashed shelf. Further back in the store, they extended like webs, while thorn-shaped spikes shoved through the floor and roof, forming into a jaw.
trill raised both hands, light shining brightly.
I winced in turn, turning away as pain pricked my skin. “Let go outside. And be fast?”
“I’ll try,” she said, the light in her hand intensifying. “This doesn’t co as easy to us as it does to followers of other deities. Or as strongly.”
It was plenty strong enough to feel like a knife’s edge setting against my flesh. I hurried out of the room back outside. The driver and Tain had removed the wheel by now, and were busy pretending to try and put it back on. I took a look and listened to anyone else nearby.
Nothing but the snarling and whimper of sothing inside the store.
trill called out that it was fine to co back inside.
The anchor was gone. Red lted sludge oozed and bubbled where it once stood. The spikes had retracted, pulling back into the roof and floor. I noted the locations. Those would still be waiting for one of us to get lazy and step near them.
A smashed shelf shuddered on the floor, parts of it splitting open to reveal open veins growing inside it.
I backed away hurriedly, pressing the napkin against my face while my free hand drew my revolver.
A jagged wooden lance pushed out of it, tiny red eyes staring up at , other pits opening into tiny gasping maws. Needle-like teeth closed on empty air while tiny screaming reached my ears, high-pitched and shrill. Grimacing, I grabbed a knife from the pouch with my tail then stabbed it. Couldn’t make noise with the gun. I skewered the lance, pinned it to the ground. I still had so low-grade holy water.
The blessed water made the entire thing lt. Flesh, eyes, and teeth all dissolved as a tiny shriek keened through the air. Soon a soggy, smashed apart shelf lay on the floor.
“Want to carry that?” trill offered. “That cannot be safe.”
I held a gloved hand up. “I’ve had plenty of experience handling this. And I’d rather have a thod of handling this that isn’t adding more diabolism to the mix.”
trill muttered under her breath about the insanity of keeping vials of sothing that could kill with just a bit of mishandling on myself. I pretended not to hear her.
trill maneuvered deftly around the interior of the shop, keeping well away from smashed shelves and spilled wares. I followed, keeping an eye on everything around us. The divine light had made anything retreat, but it hadn’t been destroyed besides the anchor and thorns. The other things would be hiding, waiting for an opportune mont.
“Do you think this was on purpose?” she asked , divine light still at hand as we neared the thorn holes.
“Doubtful,” I replied. “I’ve seen a deliberate trap laid by this one before. It was far more competent.”
A devil hiding in a corpse was one thing. This was just ambient corruption acting on its own instincts.
trill paused. “Oh, Jane, I’m so sorry.”
I moved next to her, spotted the two bodies she had to be talking to.
Going by what was left of their clothing, normal shopkeepers, but probably associates of the Thieves’ Guild. It was hard to tell much more. One was charred to a crisp and the other….had been made to grow out of their skin. Overgrown ropes of muscle and tendons and flesh were pushed out of the torn apart shreds of skin and clothing, ripped off the bone from their growth.
One of those rope-like tendrils twitched, and trill reflexively held up a hand, divine energy glowing across it.
“I’ll head further inside,” I said, giving the bodies a wide berth. “Do what you need to.”
She nodded, and I hurried further in, feeling the sudden burst of divine magic behind.
Further in lay where he’d gone next. A burnt hole in the ground, wood and the stone underneath burned through, lted and warped.
The hole lted in the floor gave off a stench even worse than the one from this floor. My stomach churned as my mind went to an uncomfortable place.
The shelling of the banks during the rebellion. The awful stench left after, unburied bodies left to rot and be picked apart by seagulls when the sun rose.
“Familiar?” trill said, grin down to a somber smile. “I know it as well.”
“Yes,” I said bluntly, then pulled a rag out of my pocket, tearing it in two.
I grabbed a small vial out of my coat, soaked both of the halves in its contents and gave one to trill. “Hold it over your nose. It’ll blunt the worst of this.”
The sll I could mitigate. The sights I didn’t need to. I’d beco inured to this a long ti ago.
Down here, you could barely see the floor anyway. Loose webs of multi-colored flesh covered the floor, parts of it twitching and breathing. It probably said sothing, that without direction the diabolism unleashed by the Priestkiller tended to form corruption like this, but I didn’t have the background to tell what that might an.
Bodies were scattered about where we landed. Most were in pieces, my eyes picking out what went with which part even under all the changes. The torn-off arm with spines erging, trying to form skittering legs. The limbless, headless torso shuddering as its still-beating heart tried to push free of the ribcage. Scattered fingers pulled themselves across the floor, thick hairs growing along them and grasping at the floor.
“I’d hoped to never see anything like this again,” trill said, then with a pained grimace leaned down by one of the bodies, divine light gathering in her hand.
“Only if it moves,” I said. “If it doesn’t it? Don’t destroy it, don’t move it. Everything is to be exactly how it was when we ca in if possible.”
Well, everything needed to look like it hadn’t been touched. If I could take a look at the cri scene before the Watch got here? I wouldn’t give up that chance.
Mind you, if any of this attacked us and we needed to defend ourselves? Well, I didn’t doubt they would complain about any damage. They couldn’t press too hard. We’d already had to make a ss of the first floor.
It was a clever way to hide evidence as well, intentional or not. What might exist had a good chance of being corrupted by the diabolism. Hard to collect evidence when you needed to burn it with divine magic so it wouldn’t bite your face off.
“Now that you’re working with us,” trill said as she tried the impossible task of leaning on solid air, keeping a wary distance from everything. “You need to explain to all these fancy forensic science the cities Voltar uses to catch people.”
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit for the authentic version.
“Mmm, maybe if I get mbership in the guild,” I said as I examined another body slumped on the floor.
“Are you blackmailing ?” she said with a grin, but the levity was forced.
I looked over the room, occasionally sprinkling one object or another with holy water that looked suspicious. The bodies I’d leave for later. Not only were they the most likely to be corrupted, but the heavy amount of hellfire would have altered anything on them.
There wasn’t much, to my frustration. Much of the floor was covered in a thin layer of the fleshy growth, which I was slowly clearing with conservative use of the holy water. It drove it back, although it started creeping back as soon as it got a chance.
The smashed apart furniture and position of the bodies did tell a story. They’d been clustered around the entrance from the first floor to down here. The Priestkiller had dropped in behind them. Bodies lay scattered about, mostly in pieces, but even the intact ones had been punched straight through, gaping holes in their flesh, the insides burnt.
Well, what wasn’t covered in thin webs of growing flesh was burnt.
“He’s not usually this brutal,” I noted, eyeing one person with a gaping hole in their ribcage, the chest still shuddering.
There was a patch of floor completely lacking the signs of diabolic corruption. I hadn’t touched it with holy water. trill hadn’t been here either. Still damp from sothing spilled there. We hadn’t been long behind the Priestkiller.
I touched the damp wood, and pain blood across my fingertip. I pulled it back with a hiss, looking at where flesh was already turning red.
“Soone used holy water,” I noted while getting a small bottle of water from my belt.
Flushing my finger with regular water to rid it of the holy, I looked at the small damp circle. So, so thrown holy water had landed here, which ant there was the possibility so had landed on the Priestkiller. Probably not. He had the arcane shielding, and I doubted any of the thieves here had bullets made of angel’s flesh.
I paused. Well. These bodies had physical wounds. They hadn’t just been burnt to death with Hellfire or rotted with a gesture. They’d been beaten to the point of ripped-off limbs and other trauma. It was entirely possible that the Priestkiller could beat them with his shield up, several of them did allow semi-perability at the user’s will. But it made the shield weaker, so often they allowed only a single opening. For a sword, let’s say. But if he was grabbing people, the shield would be open. Open enough for say, holy water to dispel the infernally conjured armor, and allow a wound?
The shattered glass of the vial was nowhere to be found. Possibly lted by the hellfire. One of the bodies on the floor had shattered glass around where they’d fallen. Probably. The relative lack of infernal corruption suggested that the vials contained holy water.
One of the other bodies had another detail, mixed with shattered bones, ripped-off limbs, and a head twisted all the way around.
She was carrying a hand crossbow. Inaccurate, hard to reload under stress, but useful when you didn’t want the sound of a gunshot echoing around. More importantly, the bolt was missing, and a quick visual check of the room didn’t turn it up.
I noted where he’d landed for later. It would give a general angle to investigate.
The bodies, now that I was looking them over. There wasn’t much in so cases. It looked like the Priestkiller had settled for going hand-to-hand with them. Hand to hand with each of them, only blows wreathed in hellfire and enhanced strength from Diabolism. Most of them had been in plain clothes, most of those torn, burned, or turned into swaying scraps of fabric that dissolved in holy water.
I examined each in detail, although my earlier suspicion was correct. Any possible clues were gone, eliminated by the diabolism’s corruption. Little hints to construct a further picture of how the fight had unfolded, and its futility against the Priestkiller. I was increasingly convinced the bolt, if it had survived, might have actually struck him.
With the last of the others finished, I moved on to Matilda Rose. trill was nearby, staring down with a mixture of regret and hesitation. Probably rethinking her glee about finding out Rose was involved in this.
Considering what had happened to the traitor cleric, very understandable.
“I’m keeping my examination minimal,” I explained. “We’re going to be pushing their patience already with being Lareran’s representative. accidentally ssing up any evidence on the body would just push it further.”
Not that there was much left to examine. The limbs had burn to charred, blackened bone. The hairless tail that had started growing has been sliced off with hellfire, only a burnt stump left. The eye sockets were empty, lted out. The head was twisted and warped, burnt flesh half-transford into a face more resembling a ratfolk than a human. Ribs were exposed, so of them yanked out to open up her chest.
“Vermin,” I said clinically, trying to keep my mind focused on that instead of the instinctive revulsion and disgust as I knelt down by the corpse. “Not associated with any of the seven sins. There’s an obvious aning to this.”
“Devils of Pestilence,” trill said, keeping her distance. “Vermin were considered their allies and friends, but I agree that the aning is probably not that.”
“Interesting, they would consider her a rat,” I said as I gently tilted the corpse’s head back. “Maybe because I was at Holmsteader’s they think soone tipped off? But they know the Queen of Masks used Holmsteader’s people to try to kill Gregory and Alice.”
I finished tilting the head back, considering the jagged line and hole carved into the cleric’s neck. The Priestkiller has apparently decided to handle Rose’s transformation and death by slashing her throat open, then shoving his hand into the open wound and channeling the diabolism. The expression of utter agony seed even more fitting.
“Soone’s angry,” trill said, voice tight.
“The Priestkiller was given an embarrassnt last night,” I said, letting the head slump back forward. “Not angry enough to try coming for , or ss up in a way where anyone knew this had happened. This is tighter control than he showed last night, actually.”
Oh, this entire building showed the sa lack of restraint I’d witnessed, but it hadn’t traveled outside. Inside the walls, everything had beco hell on earth, but outside you wouldn’t tell anything was wrong. Either the Priestkiller had learned a large amount of control in the last twelve hours, or soone was covering his tracks.
Probably Daver, I decided. Daver or a team of Black Fla Diabolists using rituals to keep everything contained. The holy sigils were another option but those would not be easy to get, and trying to install them would be even more difficult. No, this must be a ritual, which ans they’d been planning this for a while.
“She must have thought she was safe because there were other clerics of Lareran they could have gone after instead,” I opined. “Either that or she didn’t expect they’d know about this. Who might have known she was involved in this?”
“The guild knew,” trill said. “But it’s just as likely she was tailed and didn’t realize it. The plan involved this place as a eting point and for the setup but nothing illicit was happening inside. This place has been used before and the Watch never found the underground level, so no one would have taken extra precautions just coming here.”
The Priestkiller likely hadn’t known either. Just burned a hole in the floor until he reached the hidden level.
“The worst part is that they clearly had this planned,” I said. “Not to the extent of knowing how to get down, but a ritual to keep the diabolism contained inside the walls takes ti to set up. They could have done this at any point in the past. They’re taking their ti with this, which makes no sense.”
I kept on returning to that point, because no matter what their motivations, playing the ga like this didn’t follow any logical plan. Actually wanting to open the Hellgate? Moving far too slow for their goal.
The diabolism around us had stilled, by now. I considered it, the undirected nature of it. Brute, destructive force wielded with the finesse of a child smashing sothing in a fit of emotion. The other murder scenes compared to this had been restrained, the corruptive effects far greater than before. He’d been unrestrained last night, but that had been similar to his killing of the Kersov Priestess Chalrs, an open area, an outright fight. This had been neither. And there was even clearer evidence of the lack of any control.
“He’s getting angrier,” I said, considering the wreckage that had been made of Matilda Rose’s corpse.
Compared to the respectful, almost gentle way that Singer Reginald’s body had been treated, the contrast was plain. He’d made Matilda Rose’s death as painful as he could, then tossed her aside like trash.
“Is it because I pricked him,” I mused. “I don’t think entirely. You have many positive interactions with Micheal Forcreek?”
trill blinked. “Forcreek. That’s who you’re thinking of for this? The man is plainer than bread. And is a devout Halspusian.”
“You’d be surprised what lurks in so people,” I said. “I discussed Bishop Gallaspie with a colleague of mine who knows him. One of the things discussed is that the Bishop favors a more militant church, sothing was falling out of favor before being briefly rejuvenated by the Black Fla rebellion. Sothing I imagine has been dying down both between the end of that, and the failures involving recent events. With that role being taken more by Maldeura.”
Having one of their most highly placed priests turn out to be a shapechanger had probably helped shape the discourse on that. Especially after they organized marches into the Infernal Quarter with the ultimate goal of being bombed and blaming the Infernal for the explosives after. Knowledge of that wasn’t public, but it was known enough to act as a restraint on activities for the near future.
And inside the church, was the kind of embarrassnt that would be touted as a reason to not go down similar routes.
trill’s eyes narrowed. “You think Gallaspie is using this as a reason to keep the direction of Halspus’ church the way he wants it?”
“From my limited understanding, yes,” I said.
She mulled on that while I finished checking the fingernails of the dead Rose. Even if she had managed to claw anything, it had been obliterated by the hellfire. Not even really fingers any more. Blackened bits of bone, held together by burnt strips of flesh. Thorns were pushing free from the charred remains, and continuing to slowly push out. The body had a limited ti before it would have to be purified.
“When they picked Gallaspie and Derrick for this,” trill said. “One of the first things joked was that they wanted the two people most likely to die soon closest to the diabolism in case things went wrong.”
I frowned. “I get Derrick. Gallaspie doesn’t look that old.”
“You don’t need to be old to have one foot in the grave,” trill replied. “Gallaspie is soone who would have thrived centuries ago, or even during the ti of Her Most Infernal Majesty fighting against her. The man who would be an excellent paladin, stuck in a land that’s been tad to the point it’s no longer viable. These days, all he has is a rabid dislike of people that no one really likes but no one is willing to take blade and fire too, and an aggressive approach to all that he considers improper. And while he’s kept most of his targets to those that most also consider improper, not all of them.”
“Tarver,” I guessed.
“Him, although not as important as the one that sits well above the others,” trill said. “Maldeura, like you ntioned earlier. He’s pushed against them in the past, and been burnt repeatedly.”
“Ah,” I said, getting up from the body. “So his assignnt to the diabolism program was part to ensure oversight, part a dumping ground.”
“Like I said, a man who would have thrived a century or more past, or in the colonies or elsewhere, but who insists on staying here,” trill said. “And every ti he pushes, the push back eats away more and more at him. Eventually the line will be crossed where Gallaspie will find himself without influence in his own church, without influence anywhere outside it. And he is aware of that.”
“So a man who is being forced into obscurity or death, who was assigned to sothing he was likely expected to fail in,” I said. “Who could, say, both inspire the church of Halpsus back to a direction he prefers and end up with his own reputation assured if he arranged for himself to be the hero of this piece?”
trill nodded slowly. “Yes, although…he’s a very principled man. Not principles I agree with, but I wouldn’t doubt his belief in them.”
I snorted. “I’ve been let down in cases like that far too often to believe in them. We probably have a few minutes until the Watch arrives?”
The answer was yes, and I spent that ti scouring as much as I could without directly touching anything. It helped piece together the tiline of the Priestkiller’s rampage through this building, the futile attempts to fight him, ending in the slow, sadistic murder and forced transformation of Matilda Rose.
I finally found it towards the end
Under a cabinet, rolled far underneath it, sothing glinted. I peered at it, trying to make out what it was. It was all the way at the back, and I didn’t want to disturb the cabinet. Touching the body was fine. Evidence I’d moved anything else would just raise suspicion.
My arms weren’t long enough, but my tail was as I felt behind then gingerly lifted the object out.
A short crossbow bolt, the kind you’d use in a hand crossbow.
Dried blood was on the tip.
My lips curled into a smile. An angry Priestkiller had gone hand-to-hand with the thieves, trying to prove he could manage it after I pricked his pride. That put them inside his shield. Then holy water gets thrown at him, devouring that diabolism summoned armor.
Soone takes a desperate shot while both of his protection thods are down, and only nicks him. Another humiliation, but not a death. The bolt rolls away, lost in the chaos.
Pure conjecture, of course, the crossbow bolt could have hit one of the other thieves by accident. But if it hadn’t?
In twenty four hours I would know exactly who the Priestkiller was.
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