Infernal Investigations Chapter 74 - Archive III

For once, I shared a carriage with a Montague who wasn’t Gregory.

Elise Montague was very much like her brother, mainly in the sense I’d had to remind myself thrice now that staring into soone else’s eyes could be considered rude at best, creepy at worst, and….who knows what when the person in question had seen you chewing your way through a cow’s stomach.

Please let her not ask any strange questions like that idiotic pack of noble brats from the party. Or anything related to said cows.

“So,” Elise finally said, breaking the silence. “You and my brother seem...close.”

You know, suddenly, idiotic questions about my race seed much more palatable. Or even the cows.

“I suppose we are close,” I said. “He’s been of great help with the investigation, and since I’m part of that, it only makes sense that we’ve been working together.”

“Working together includes going off in a corner to….have quiet private conversations?” Elise Montague asked .

“I…well, it started as a private, quiet conversation,” I muttered. “I noticed your band was definitely not full-ti servants, and I was right to bring attention to it. For all that, it helped in the end.”

“I have to ask, are you normally this bashful?” Elise said. “I could understand it over so things, but just the idea of being kissed sends you into conniptions makes you seem so innocent.”

I twitched, sothing rising to the surface as if responding to the challenge of those words.

“My last relationship ended about six years ago,” I told her. “And no, I wasn’t that bashful over it, outside of the tis we had to hide the bite marks we left on each other.”

Elise seed a little lost for words at that. “Biting?”

“Yes, biting. We probably did more of that than kissing, now that I think about it.”

Skall had never lacked passion. That ended up being the issue. Passion and diabolism did not mix well. Elise stamred a bit, suddenly looking less confident than she had just a few seconds ago.

“Do you an like on the dance room floor when the Infernal-I an the ruffians invaded?”

“You can call them Infernals,” I said, with a bit of fatigue in my voice. “And no, not like that. I’m not a praying mantis. I don’t eat people I’m laying with.”

I hoped that inclination to chomp into soone’s throat had just been the Imp, making its appetites known.

She at least seed willing to move to a different topic of conversation.

“I’m a little surprised you were willing to help out with this,” I said. “Your brother has the reputation as the black sheep, was my understanding. Or have I fallen in with an entire flock with black wool?”

“Varying levels of gray,” she said, smirking. “So darker than others. Greg is just a little more indiscreet with his defiance than the rest of us. Although with Father...he’s taken a foul turn recently. Fouler with everyone that he used to be. Before this, it was just ssing with father, little acts of rebellion. I’m sure you’ve had similar feelings.”

My lips quirked. “I didn’t know my father. I still don’t, not really.”

My interactions with the creature involved in my birth could best be described as mostly relaying ssages to the child he actually cared about.

“Oh,” she said, cheeks flushing. “I’m sorry, I didn’t an to stir up any unpleasant mories. Is he dead?”

“Not dead, just not very involved,” I said, not wanting to tell the truth that he was a devil, or worse, a damn noble among the Hells. “He’s far away and doesn’t really visit or communicate much. So, the urge to disobey never happened to . It would need to involve soone who gave orders to obey.”

“Ah, I see,” she said. “Sadly, I cannot relate. Since the mont I could talk, Father’s been busy trying to plan out my life for . So, every little chance at a minor bit of rebellion seed tantalizing. I suppose this is a fair bit bigger than minor, though.”

“A fair bit,” I echoed. “If you get caught in this-”

“Don’t try to talk out of it,” she interrupted. “I’ve already decided to commit to this little adventure, so don’t try to sway away. Besides, it’s a little late for that.”

It was not, and her considering this an adventure was a little warning sign I had not needed.

“There’s a few places we could stop this before now,” I said. “But point taken. Gregory being the most indiscreet though. Could you expand on that so, perhaps?”

“Miss Harrow,” Elise said. “Are you trying to ask about my brother’s sordid past? What would your next question be? What specifically does he like to eat?”

I froze, then ventured out a cautious “Yes?”

“I suppose I have so things I could share regarding both those questions,” she said. “First, there are the orgies-”

“He already ntioned those,” I said automatically. “ntioned he didn’t much care for them?”

An awkward silence filled the carriage as I realized what I’d said and tried not to throw myself out of the carriage. Then Elise burst out laughing.

“Yes, yes, he does not,” she said. “I won’t talk about the circumstances in which I found that out, but yes. We can talk about it more, but two things first.”

“Yes?”

“First, I want more of your asure before I decide if I want to help. It would hardly do for to set you up only to discover you eating him like you do your beef.”

Oh, Hells.

“I..that….” my voice trailed off. “There’s more to that than what may have been apparent.”

“Diabolical rituals, no doubt,” Elise said. “A lot more grueso and involving a lot less nudity than rumor would have you believe.”

Thankfully so, I could not begin to imagine what would have happened if I’d been in anything less than clothing from neck to hoof when that had happened.

“But more importantly, we are at our destination.”

The building outside the carriage was taller than even Lord Montague’s estate, pillars towering overhead, rely for decoration on the outside of the building. Made out of marble, the royal crest was carved into the center, a tiger’s roaring head over crossed swords.

“It’s underneath the Central Bank of Anglea?” I asked incredulously. “You built it underneath the biggest bank in the city?”

“More like they built their bank on top of our Archives,” Elise said. “According to Father, at least. I wouldn’t put it past him to make that up. Anything to fluff the family na and his own ego. Co on in.”

The inside of the bank was just as grand as the outside. The central chamber was massive, with a vaulted roof over a hundred feet above our heads. Finely dressed people milled about, so of them waiting in the lobby while others were in animated discussions with the tellers.

The bank was one of the remaining legacies of Her Most Profane Majesty. They’d done their best to scrub any traces of her influence over it, jokes about keeping the demonic engines attuned to Greed active in its underground chambers aside. No matter how much of it had been redone, though, everyone knew who’d established it to help fund her wars with..well, most everyone towards the end there.

Whatever else she had been, ambitious was definitely one of those things.

“Follow ,” Elise muttered, heading to one of the tellers who was not dealing with a bank patron.

“Ah, Lady Montague,” he said, looking over, eyes dismissing to focus on Elise as he bowed. “Here on business with the bank today?”

“I can’t think of another reason why I would be here, Mr. Crowley,” she replied smiling. “I’d like to make a withdrawal from my account under the Queen’s Fifth Navy Bond Account?”

His smile seed to fade just a little. “Ah, but of course. You know that all transactions from that account must be handled by the managers. One mont. Aleister! Please guide Lady Montague and her guest to the vault for the Fifth Bond Navy Account.”

A band guard nodded, coming around and leading us through a set of hallways and offices. Initially, they were packed with people, but those rapidly thinned out till we were headed down a narrow flight of stairs. A guard waited at a plain wooden door, looking curiously at us both.

“Lady Montague and a stranger,” he said. “Who might your guest be, Lady Montague, that you wish to take them into the Archives?”

“This is Petroula Xides from Illtaea,” Elise said. “She reached out to a few weeks back about research into the expedition into deeper Illtaea? The one that recovered the Aedolian steps, among other artifacts, and brought them here for safekeeping? One of her ancestors was one of the local guides hired for the expedition, and I promised her I’d let her take a look at the accounts.”

“She’s not here to try and get them back, is she?” One of the guards asked in an irritated tone.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

I gave him a blank, bland smile, trying to appear dull as he looked over.

“The accounts or the artifacts?” Elise replied. “She’s not here to steal either, Johnathan. Just looking into her family history.”

“Where did you et her?” He asked. “And before you say anything mi’lady, you know these questions are required for all visitors. Please just answer the questions.”

A few minutes passed as the cover identity I’d crafted and then shared with Elise Montague got tested to its limits. Where we’d t? I got in at a social event hosted by a friend of Elise’s because I was a servant of another friend.

From what the Montagues had told , the first layer of the archives was filled with books available publicly, records, and other such papers not really protected by any secrecy. Petroula was being brought here as a favor to Elise’s friend so that she didn’t need to check every single library in the city to find it. It took less ti than I expected before we were told to enter.

I walked through the doorway, tensing as I made my way through. The chances of it picking up on the Diabolism in my leg past the layers of skin, flesh, and bone were negligible, but they did exist.

I made it through with nothing occurring. One hurdle overco.

“Your leg alright?” The guard asked . “Looked like you didn’t want to put much weight on it on your way through.”

He could tell that? Damnations.

“Just these old joints, I’m afraid,” I replied. “Never been the sa after I turned forty, and it’s been raining too much recently. Moisture makes them even harder to bend.”

It seed to satisfy his curiosity, and well, that didn’t need to last longer than a day.

We erged into a maze. Bookshelves were on either side, the passage between barely wide enough for the two of us to fit side-by-side.

“This is one of the side entrances, not the main one,” Elise said as we moved in, our escort from the bank following closely behind. “I figured a more private entrance would work better. I know you don’t like crowds.”

To be accurate, I didn’t like showing off my disguise to a slew of people in case they encountered in a place I shouldn’t have been. Unfamiliarity was a valuable shield in those situations.

“It’s much appreciated,” I responded as we walked through the maze of bookshelves. Lanterns lit us up overhead, thirty feet tall and just above the bookshelves cramd with literature. Clearly, there was so kind of organizational system, but we didn’t slow down enough for to even guess what it might be.

Eventually we erged into a larger room, several table there with people reading, many of them in red clothing. Elise went to one, and began talking to them.

Elise requested a private room for us to go over the records. So finagling was needed to get a specific one, an argunt that because of my joints, we’d prefer one that was closer to the entrance. She argued for one she was familiar with and got it fast. We were soon in a small room with a series of chairs, reading desks, and a single small table we both settled down at, along with several records we’d collected. We’d managed to shed the bank’s escort coming

We settled into pouring over those old records and other books. The occasional spot of tea while doing this led to a good discussion, during which I learned that Elise definitely did not share her brother’s peculiarities with tea.

An hour into our stay, a staff mber opened the door and asked if we needed anything else. Elise made it clear we didn’t, and after so polite conversation, the archivist left.

As soon as they left, Elise was practically bursting with energy. She began to rise for her seat, only for to look sternly at her until she sat back down. I passed over a piece of paper.

Not yet. They might hang around. Five minutes.

Mind you, five minutes was hardly the ti I would have waited. I figured any more would be too long to wait for the overexcited Montague. She seed far too excited to be involved in matters like this. If I’d known she’d be like this, I would have maybe asked for Henry instead. I doubted soone who’d seen a battlefield would be this excited or blasé.

After five minutes passed, Montague rose from her seat and at least restricted herself to hand signals. She gestured towards one of the bookshelves, and I got up and followed.

A few mid instructions later, we carefully moved the bookshelf away from the wall, making small movents to minimize the noise since we could lift it entirely from the floor. We’d moved all the books off it into carefully piled stacks, ready to be put back on when needed.

It took ti, but as it moved further back, I could see more of what lay behind—specifically, a square hole in the wall neatly carved out.

“How have you kept the staff from finding out?” I asked in a whisper as we moved the bookshelf further away from the entrance. It looked like it was about waist high, which would have been difficult for my leg, but it was not impossible.

“Oh, they know it’s here,” Elise said. “It’s how they sneak in things past the guards. Or arrange rendezvous. Well, it used to be. It’s been sealed since it was discovered about four years ago.”

I sighed. “I don’t know what’s worse, that you wanted to send through a secret passage the staff already knew about or that it's blocked off. Pray tell, how am I supposed to get past it?”

“Oh, we reopened it a while back, Gregory, Henry, William, myself, and a couple of our sisters you haven’t t yet,” Elise said. “We put a false facade up front in order to keep it from being discovered, but it’s easy enough to remove. Co on, in you go.”

I stared at the opened-up crawlspace with no small amount of hesitation. “You are certain no one else will be here besides you while I’m gone?”

I’d already had my doubts about this. The staff knowing about an entrance that lead further inside the archives? Even if they thought it sealed off, that was a little too risky for my blood.

“Oh, I’m certain,” Elise said. “They already checked an hour ago, rember? They don’t check that often, especially with how many people visit these parts of the archives. It’s not like this part is a secret, except from the public.”

An interesting way of phrasing that, but I let it pass as I considered the tunnel. Dark. I wish soone had ntioned that when we’d planned this out.

“I’m going to need to see in there,” I muttered. “Do you have a lamp?”

Elise blinked. “I….you’re an Infernal? Can’t you see in the dark?”

I should have guessed. “I cannot. And we’ll also have to deal with my clothes. They’ll be dirty going through this once, let alone twice. Another issue to solve. Can you check outside for any kind of lantern?”

A missing lantern might be noticed, but that struck as better than crawling through the darkness. Especially if opening the far side requires more than just pushing.

Eventually, she ca back with a small, tiny little thing that wasn’t much bigger than her hand. I eyed it skeptically.

“It was on a table,” she said. “I think the Archivists use it at night?”

The archivists must not require much light at all, if this little thing was sufficient. Sighing, I grabbed it, and leg already aching in anticipation of what was to co, bent down to crawl into the tunnel.

***

I would spend a few hours outside the mont we were out of here. Not doing anything. Just...enjoying the light. And the sky. And not feeling like a fish cramd into a tin like they packaged them up at the docks. Sotis, they didn’t kill the catch before they did that; they just took living fish and shoved them in, sealed it shut, and let the poor creature die in utter darkness, squirming against a dozen of its fellows.

Peering into the Arcane helped so with the dark as I pushed through. The tiny lantern helped a little more. I still couldn’t see more than five feet in front of my face. Worse, I could hear things moving outside, the trotting of boots on the floor. Sotis loud enough, I could swear they must be right outside this little tunnel.

How long was this damn thing? I felt like I’d been in here for half an hour. In truth, probably much less. I was far, far out of practice at this as I eyed the ceiling. Lingering doubts of it collapsing on had haunted since I’d entered this tunnel.

Every inch felt like a mile as the still air smothered . It felt tighter than it had been when I’d entered. Had it gotten tighter? I felt like I was being shoved into a shrinking hole, even though there was space for two of side-by-side.

I paused, catching a glimr of light where none should be. I focused on where I’d spotted it, and then it repeated itself. Like a reflection of light on a spider’s thread, red and green arcane energy woven very finely.

A trap.

They’d gone cheap with this trap, having it run only on a single axis. A wire of magic running from top to bottom. It would break at the lightest touch, but if I could avoid it, I should be fine.

A very big if, I thought to myself. Bum leg, and I’d made myself wider to account for extra mass when I’d shortened myself. I pressed up against a wall on my side, eye on the thread. Make sure my good leg was the one on the floor. I kept the lantern ahead of , then began moving. Bend my knees a little, use it to push forward an inch.

I repeated that motion, eyes focused on the thread. There was so much to balance: pain in my leg, weight threatening to tip forward, and the feeling of dust irritating my nose and trying to tempt a sneeze out of .

Eventually, I made it through, the bottom of my bio-sculpted foot and the prosthetic on my hoof clearing past. I kept on my side, getting at least three feet of distance. Then, I went back onto my hands and knees and continued to crawl.

Eventually, the tunnel ended in the smooth wooden back of a walnut bookshelf.

I pushed against the back. It should just be a facade. Perhaps it swung open, or maybe it was just hollow? Or a cut-out section?

I shouldn’t hope after that alarm

The bookshelf refused to move. It refused to even budge, and it felt like pushing against a wagon loaded with stone. Sideways. Cursing, I pulled the lantern forward, looking over the seams where the tunnel t the bookshelf.

There was sothing sticking out along the upper one, and my fingers gripped it. It was a folded up piece of paper, and I gingerly pulled it out, unfurling it and bringing it to the lamplight.

My Children,

William took it upon himself, out of guilt, to explain exactly how you have been violating the security of our family’s greatest charge. He has told about how all of you pressured him into doing this, and encouraged to enact a most terrible punishnt. However, I am feeling generous today, so instead, your climbing back through this cramped little space will be punishnt enough. For an imdiate punishnt at least. Once one of you has triggered the alarm I have placed in there, I will decide on a proper punishnt for your entire group. anwhile, this way has been sealed, and I will note that the head archivist is also not likely to look upon you fondly for the books you have apparently taken as part of this sche.

Your Father,

Protector of the Imperial Archives

Lord Bartholow Alvoneas Montague the Fifth.

Oh. Brilliant. Well, at least I’d handled that stupid alarm.

“Imp?” I whispered, keeping my voice low. The chances of being heard on the other side of this bookshelf was low, but no need to risk it.

Yes? The Imp replied, sounding sleepy for so reason.

“Those thods you ntioned for practicing Diabolism without the effects being detected? Can you teach them to ?”

Now? It replied.

“I do not have many options,” I muttered. “So, anything that can be taught in, say, the next five minutes?”

To move this? The Imp replied. Rot would do the trick. A slight amount, just to weaken the wood and let you push through it.

“A trickle to make dying wood decay faster,” I whispered. “A negligible amount would be below their ability to sense you think?”

Unless they wanted any creature with even a trace of magic in their blood triggering their sensors by walking inside. The only issue is the Hell’s influence leaking out, which would be picked up. There is a fix for that, although I suspect you won’t like it.

“Filling with confidence, teacher,” I muttered. “What is this ‘fix’?”

Internalize the influence.

“That sounds horrifically risky.”

Oh, it won’t be that bad. With the energy you’ll output, negligible even. Besides, you are made of the Hells partially. What is the most significant risk?

“I looked over those ritual patterns when Thomias and Beth decided on that fool path together. Do you think I forgot about the process of making soone more of a devil?”

Consider that, again, we are talking about a negligible amount of energy and that you have used magic to suppress your nature. The most likely result? Your disguise will be shed.

I sighed. It was not a good outco since it would an having to be more on my guard once inside, but it was not the worst. One thing that was said did stick in my mind, though.

“Most likely?”

The Influence of the Hells is chaotic. Sothing else might happen. But what I described is the most likely result by far.

Not the most reassuring of words, but I lacked alternatives. Besides just giving up and heading back.

That would be the safe option. I was here on a hunch that Lord Montague was hiding sothing important, but had I misread things? Was this worth it? If I was wrong and I was found out...well I couldn’t imagine anyone would really stick their necks out for . And why was I still pursuing this even? As far as I could tell, my involvent was mostly done. The Changers had no reason to keep chasing , so I could end it here if I wanted.

Why keep going? Personal slights? The Montagues? Trying to look good for these Imperial intelligence agents I’d entered into so still barely defined pact with? Or did I just want to know?

I put my hand on the bookshelf’s back. “Tell how.”