By the time I'd reached where Alice waited, the snow had eased off.

Only most of the way, so there was still a gentle drift, but I could at least see over ten feet in front of my face. Others were out now, trying their best to trudge through the snow. I was getting a few looks between only wearing a single coat and my changed appearance, but I ignored them. Let them gawk; it would make it easier for me to vanish once you brought biosculpting into play.

Arguably, I should have put on a disguise for this, but Versalicci had failed to mention the details of how we were getting Alice out. In the worst case, we could always schedule it for a different time or place, and maybe he could pick a place where we'd stand out less.

Soon after I'd had my meeting with Versalicci, one of his newer recruits informed me it would be Garretsville, and that I should pick a place. They'd find us after they arranged everything later today.

The temptation to make Gio's life harder by doing our best to hide where we would be was there, but I asked Tolman and Alice to make themselves visible before setting up in the best warehouse they could find to break into.

It wasn't hard to find them from there. There was tension in the air, getting thicker the closer I got. Criminals used Garretsville for clandestine meetings and shady dealings, but there was always a tension where it was Infernals using their buildings and not our own assuredly numerous dens of depravity. They'd tolerate us over the Watch, but just barely, and every minute we were here would wear that tolerance down thinner.

So much for honor among thieves. In all honesty, I wanted to send whoever had invented that phrase for a trip down the Nover.

Tension and overheard conversations about how I must be with those other two Infernals took me to a small warehouse. There was a small lock on one door, but a quick check showed that it hadn't been clicked all the way back into place. I spared a look around.

Plenty of looks, none of them friendly, but none outright hostile yet. Still, it would be best to make this quick. I was early, having left Gregory with more than enough time to make it here but still a gap too small to do anything in.

I spared the surrounding area a look before heading inside.

We weren't too far off from the warehouse I'd confronted Hawkins in not that long ago.

***

Gregory was waiting for me as I made my way to the front of the cathedral.

The only priest of Zaviel on the list of Diabolism trainees, Mourner Kelson, worked out of what Gregory told me was the second most important place of worship for Zaviel, and the original main cathedral until a new one had been constructed a few decades ago because of the lack of space.

Staring at the towering edifice ahead of me, I thought this one looked large enough. Smaller than Baltaren's maybe, but not by much. Apparently, most of the administrative functions took place there.

I got stares as I got closer to the cathedral, people not used to Infernals being this close to a Pantheon's cathedral. Gregory was waiting by the entrance as I approached.

"You okay, Malvia?" He asked, his usual grin faltering. "You look-"

"I'm fine," I said, cutting him off. "Things didn't go as planned, but not terribly. Did you get in to see us?"

"After trading a few favors and other things, yes," Gregory said with a grimace. "I'm just hoping the Master of Strings sees things my way to arrange private performances."

"Master of Strings?" I asked. "One of these days I need to talk to whoever made these names and get them to tell me why."

"Easy enough. Find Tarver and talk to him. Let's head inside."

***

Inside the warehouse itself, empty shelves greeted me. There were signs of recent activity, so the place must be between cargos.

It was also barely warmer here than outside. Missing slats in the roof were the reason.

I eyed the warehouse offices up above. I could hear someone moving about up there, and not being very subtle about it.

I made my way up there, hooves clacking on the stairs until I made it to the door.

"Harrow, if that's you, don't open that door. The stove just went out, and I just got warm-"

Ignoring Alice, I opened the door to her shriek of rage. She was near a dying stove, trying to get the last bit of warmth out of the dying embers inside.

She was by herself, which saved me from having to send Tolman away for the following conversation, but where was he?

"Where's Tolman?" I asked, waiting as she glared at me while cold air continued to pour inside.

"Set up across the street to keep an eye out," Alice snapped. "Would you close that damn door?"

Splitting up was not a good idea, but there was no helping it now. I hadn't noticed Tolman on the way here, and I'd have to trust no one else would either.

"Half an hour early, Harrow," Alice said as I shut the door. "Eager to see me off?"

"Would you have preferred my not coming at all?" I asked her.

Her sneer vanished for a second, then came back just as hard. "What, leave Versalicci without your blackmail on him, so he can have no reason to get me out of here?"

"Fair enough," I replied, moving to the window. Outside, the Nover was motionless, frozen solid. Huh, they'd managed it.

"I think it'll be a sled," I opined, looking down at the motionless surface of the Nover.

Alice snorted. "As a distraction, you mean? 'Cause there ain't no way a sled on the Nover ain't going unnoticed."

"Of course," I said, looking down at the frozen river. "Even with the snow, it'll be blanketed in guards, all miserable and cursing the weather as much as the rest of us."

With my coat back around me, the chill wasn't as bad as it could have been, but the fact even more snow was coming bordered on the absurd. Easily over a foot now blanketed the ground.

"Curse whoever brought the weather," Alice opined. "At least if saying that won't get them killed. Don't think things are that strict, are they?"

"I wouldn't know," I said. "We're getting a trickle of veterans from Her Majesty's campaigns, but most remain on the battlefields, living or dead. Whether swearing at the royals like that gets the noose, I don't know."

Returns for when they were on leave certainly happened, but less than there had been at the very start. Once they'd allowed immediate families to accompany the conscripted into the fields, less reason to come back.

It was a slow destruction of the Quarter that was happening. Glacial even, because conscription wasn't a case of grabbing everyone off the street. Her Majesty hardly wanted her armed forces inundated with a tidal wave of Infernals who would return to polite society with training in weapons and combat beyond what the street taught you.

No, now that they allowed Infernals in the armed forces, they would keep at us at a strict ratio inside compared to other races. What few I had talked that who were willing to speak had mentioned how there were no Infernal non-commissioned officers.

To be expected. Non-Anglean commissioned officers were a rarity, and I doubted even those of us not blessed with a noble birth would be allowed much of any influence.

"How did you avoid it?" Alice asked, interrupting my musings. "Avoiding the draft. The way I heard it, they focused on anyone fit and it fighting shape first before anyone else. I dodged it by fleeing to the countryside. How's you dodge it?"

"Alchemist," I told her. "Having a trade helps keep you from dying on some foreign field. I did consider joining up for a while."

"Really?" Alice said, shocked. "Why?"

"Looking for a purpose, maybe," I said. "It didn't last long. Especially when I realized that they'd be screening for any Flame."

Physical attempts to hide my tattoo wouldn't last forever, and biosculpting would only last until the supplies wore out. Keeping a disguise going wouldn't have lasted.

"It was like that for a while after I finished setting up my new identity," I told her. "Did delving for a bit. Freelanced in a few criminal enterprises. Eventually, I settled down as an alchemist until that whole mess with the Shapechangers happened. How much were you told about that?"

"Nothing concrete that I'm willing to trust," she said. "Versalicci was oh so eager to explain things in a way that deflected all blame from him, which I take to be bullshit."

"For once, it wasn't," I told her. "He actually was innocent of the crimes involved. They planned on framing him as well as me after they had me executed, of course. They put on a mock trial and everything for my sentencing."

She snorted. "Couldn't have been worse the first time you went to the coffin. I remember when you came back through the tunnels, fingers missing, trying to bite out the threads they'd used to force your jaw shut. Come close to that bad this time?"

"Very," I replied. "Melted eye, melted tongue, bullet in the leg, cut-off fingers, and all the tendons and ligaments in one arm burnt out."

"The fuck," she said, disgusted. "What kind of sick freak was torturing you?"

"It was mostly self-inflicted," I confessed. "I tried sealing away my diabolism. Crafted my flesh to make it hard to use. Trying it again without shifting back had consequences."

She didn't seem to have an answer to that, as I focused my attention out of the window again. Why had I said that? Why had I said any of that?

"I'd suggest saying goodbye now, if you want to," I told her. "Saying them when Versalicci and his people are around might be difficult."

She exhaled, the way you do when you force your breathing even when everything inside you screams not to. "Why would it be difficult?"

***

Unsurprisingly, they didn't allow us to see Mourner Kelson right away. Instead, we'd spent the last ten minutes talking with our designated handler, a young brunette priestess of Anglean stock who'd been jabbering our ears off about all kinds of small talk until I'd asked her if Mourner Kelson was going to see us.

"I think so. It's not a request we get too often," the priestess said, trying very hard not to look my way as she said that. "And rarely does someone ask for the Mourner by name."

"We're aware," I told her. "If it's too unusual for Mourner Kelson, I'm sure we can find another place to bury-"

"No, no," the priestess said, eyes widening for just a second. "Mourner Kelson finds the unusual ones the most interesting of them all, Miss, um."

I'd told her my name twice. I'd think it a deliberate slight if she hadn't called Gregory by George, Greyson, and Grace in the space of a minute.

"Harrow," I said with a polite smile. "Miss Malvia Harrow."

"Oh!" the priestess said, brightening up. "Like the gardening tool! I don't know why I keep forgetting that."

My polite smile felt difficult to keep in place, especially with Gregory's shoulders quaking in the corner of my eye.

"Like I said," she continued . "He will want to see you. He's been waiting for an Infernal to meet with him for a while."

Mourner Kelson's desire to see us might have less to do with us, well me if we were being honest, being strange, and more to do with me being an Infernal. Kelson might keep a wary eye on anyone of Diabolic descent, given recent events.

Hopefully, he'd know that only an absolute moron would try to kill someone in such a public time and place. Then again, the killer had already done so in one such case, so I could only hope they hadn't brought us to this isolated part of the cathedral to be ambushed by its entire contingent of priests.

We weren't in the main part of the cathedral itself, the priests ushering us in further in once I'd asked about Kelson to a more private place, a few pews in front of a shrine of Zaviel caressing some poor dying sod I assumed was someone important. Supposedly, it was a place for the priests themselves to pray to Zaviel for guidance.

"You can just wait in here, and I'm sure the Mourner will meet with you as soon as he can," she said. "If you need anything, just poke your head in the hallway and someone will notice. Oh, and some priests might come in here to worship, but they won't bother you."

"It won't be a problem," Gregory said. "We'll be very discreet."

"Anyway, again, I'll get the Mourner as soon as I can," she practically chirped. "The Day of Closing Skies and Solemn Ground requires a lot of preparation. Bye!"

She shut the door behind us, leaving us by ourselves. I was doubtful about whether we were alone. If I were in charge of this, there would be at least someone listening in, assuming this was instead where problematic guests were, instead of a private shrine.

"She's very…perky for a follower of a death deity," I opined as she left.

"Depends on how you see death," Gregory responded. "If you see it as an end or a passage to a place much worse than before, sure. If it's seen as just a passage onto another part of the journey, a bit less."

As one of those people headed to a place worse than before, I had to admit I couldn't relate to that idea. Infernals from birth, destined for the Hells. It was tempting to blame the deity whose temple I was in for that, but it was just a matter of the grip being fought. Hell did not relinquish its own. Ever.

"Besides, one might say the same thing about how you acted earlier," Gregory said, raising an eyebrow. "Seems like that's bled off by now."

I sighed. Should I launch into a spiel about masks, behaviors, and aspirations?

"The Xangs were draining," I admitted. "As much as I pretended otherwise. Then, dealing with my brother and Alice was also draining in its own right."

"You look harried," Gregory said.

Harried. Yes, let's go with that. Better than going into details.

"It was a bit tense," I admitted, then tried to change the subject. "So, is the Day of Closing Skies and Solemn Ground real, or is it an excuse to have us not be suspicious while a squad of their toughest gets ready to come after us?"

"I.. what?" Gregory sputtered. "Okay, first, you should be able to hear if they were ambushing us, right? And also, how do you not know what that day is?"

"People can be quiet if they focus, and Gregory, I'm a Quarter girl, and before that, I was a foreign girl. I do not know what religious holidays exist."

"It's an upcoming Zavielan holiday," Gregory told me. "The peaceful rest of souls where they have gone after death. Only a few days away now."

"Closing Skies?" I asked.

"They believe the dead go above and below when we die," Gregory explained. "Body to the earth, to the solemn ground, to be warded against the predations of those who would use them for nefarious ends. Necromancers, grave robbers, people like that."

People like me, given how that mess with the Shapechangers had started.

"The souls go up into the skies, beyond the reach of all mortal creatures, even the mightiest of the skyborne entities like the dragons, into whatever afterlife they are destined to, safeguarded by Zaviel on their journey. There's a ceremonial burial of the possessions of the dead and a festival where you release flying lanterns for your departed into the sky."

Oh, I'd actually seen those lanterns, both back when I'd lived in the Xang's house and in the Quarter itself. In the former, no one cared enough to inform me about anything involving the Anglean religion, and in the latter, the names of deities were usually followed with spit.

An uncomfortable thought occurred to me.

"Any actual souls involved?" I asked.

"No," Gregory assured me. "It's symbolic; all the souls involved have already passed. A ritual probably could tap into an aspect of Zaviel, but her priests are always on the prowl for that kind of plot. They take their duties very seriously, and their preparations prevent any tapping into it. Besides, the aspects of the holiday are the wrong kind for diabolism."

"True enough," I said. Death had little relation to Diabolism besides frequently being caused by it. Soul-stealing? Sure, but back when devils had easy access to Anglea, it was the living whose souls they took, not the dead.

"Well, you've put my mind at ease regarding that," I told him. "While we wait, how did your conversation with Lord Karsin go?"

"With Desmond himself? Poorly. With his household and a couple of relatives trying to keep an eye on him? Much better."

Relatives? Considering what his mother had been, that might not be a good sign.

Gregory saw my expression and continued. "The authorities test them to their limits. They also hadn't seen Lady Karsin for years or decades, one of them from before she took part in the war against Her Most Profane Majesty. Which is part of the issue with Desmond. They consider him family, but just barely. Most of them did not approve of Karsin becoming a noble or adopting a human. The ones who came don't hate him for existing but they don't listen to him, and don't respect him. Or his mother. And then-"

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"You don't need to explain it," I said, feeling a pang of sympathy for the young lordling. "I understand."

Maybe he had it better than I did, since I doubted any of the ones with him wanted his head cut off. But being unwanted by family and ignored, that I understood.

"You can understand how my father wormed his way in," Gregory said. "The man can be charming when not dealing with those he despises. He made a big show of forgiving Lady Karsin for what he did, and bonded with the young lad over not just relatives lost, but a mutual hatred for the woman they held responsible for it all."

I didn't bother protesting that I hadn't caused all that trouble, just someone picked to take a fall. Poorly picked. Gregory knew that, Lord Montague knew that, Desmond Karsin likely didn't but that wouldn't matter against the fact I'd arranged his mother's death.

"I think it's also just that my father will listen to him," Gregory said. "It doesn't help his elvish relatives are challenging for ownership of Lady Karsin's estate."

"Didn't you just say they disapproved of her getting a title?"

"Some changed their minds when they saw what Lady Karsin built. Never mind the one who built that is the same shapechanger they've called an abomination. The servants themselves are fighting a battle just to stick around, and it leaves them unable to pry off the only one of Desmond's peers who bothers to visit. Having your line turn out to be infested with murderous shapechangers makes you something of a pariah."

And made the boy an easy enough one to manipulate. Although why Lord Montague bothered was another question entirely.

"The rest of the servants will prevent anything as overt as this," Gregory told me. "Jacovin was the only one he could get to do this, and the rest of them aren't going to tolerate anything that could get Imperial attention on them. Or worse, you coming by for a visit."

"Are they terrified I'm going to destroy their gardens again?" I asked.

"Some of them have very unpleasant memories of fighting diabolism-infused topiaries," Gregory said. "Outside that they're worried if Desmond irritates you too much you'll respond by biting out his throat."

Okay, that was utterly ridiculous. I only bit the throats of people trying to kill me. Which, after a second to think, might include Desmond Karsin depending on how hard he pushes this. His servants had a point.

"Anything else?"

***

The cart wasn't directly heading our way, taking a meandering path, but one steadily heading our way. No Infernal driving it, but that would just draw attention in this part of the city, and Versalicci had non-Infernal contacts. And it would be under most people's attention. Just not their noses, from the cargo.

"A midden cart," I said, looking as it continued its circuitous path towards us, still looking through the window. "How long can you hold your nose?"

"Not that long," Alice growled. "And if he thinks that people aren't going to look just because it's filled with literal shit? There are sewers now, this isn't centuries ago."

"Decades, and it'll be for the underground," I told her. "Apparently, they're running something involving underground fauna. Not very secretive, mostly trying to see what properties they can get out of those mushrooms. They require a fair bit of fertilizer."

For the secret experiments as well, because it was a given that for every public research project, there'd be twice as many secret ones looking into what her majesty really wanted.

"So it'll probably be through the underground," I said. "There are still plenty of tunnels down there unexplored."

Mostly because, despite the best efforts of the Delvers and regular sweep throughs by the army, enough monsters still prowled to make charting difficult work. And that some tunnels shifted, some were hidden, some closed and opened at certain times, the ones barely large enough for even a gnome to fit through, and then you added in the vast natural caverns. The sheer density of tunnels meant that you could have eight groups within twenty feet of each other and they'd have no idea there was anyone else nearby, let alone any tunnels.

It was not a good reason for the war, but it was a little disturbing just how much of the city's underground the dwarven kingdoms turned into tunnels.

"Where he can just knife me, never to be heard from again," Alice said sardonically. "Thank you, Malvia."

"No," I replied. "Send me a letter one week after leaving the city. Use something only the two of us know, coded however you want."

Alice snorted. "And what will you do if you don't get that letter?"

"Murder Versalicci," I said soberly.

She looked at me suspiciously, doubt in her eyes, then as the seconds ticked by, the doubt drained away.

"You're serious," she said, tone incredulous. "I…do you even think you could do that?"

"Maybe, maybe not," I told her. "But that's my promise to you. If he arranges your death, I will do my best to ensure he ends up dead as soon as I can attempt it."

"Why?"

"Keeping my word," I responded, and her face scrunched up in anger.

"Not what I fucking mean, and you know it. You hate me, Malvia. Why help me like this?"

"Do I hate you?" I said softly. "No, I don't think I do, Alice. I did, then you died, and life went on, and things scabbed until you showed up again, picking and tearing it off. It still hurts every time I go back to it. I don't think it will ever stop. But time has dulled it, so even when you come into my house, threaten me with a shotgun, remind me of what used to be and now is gone?"

I shook my head.

"No, I don't hate you. I'm glad you're alive. Years ago, maybe, I would have claimed to enjoy the chance to kill you for what you did to me, because I wanted to be a murderous little snake that just inflicted on the world the hurt it inflicted on me. Because everyone I'd met wanted to use me. Wanted to make me their tool, or cut my head off for the crime of being born. I don't want to be that anymore."

She laughed, a choked, pitiful thing with other emotions embedded along it. "But you'll kill me if I don't send you a letter?"

"I'll kill if there's a good sign Versalicci decided to have you knifed," I said.

She shuddered, started to say something, only for the words to twist in her throat and refuse to come out. Meanwhile, I glanced outside.

"The cart's stopped," I told her.

"I can see," she said morosely. "What about it?"

"Versalicci won't be far behind," I pointed out. "It's nearly time."

She stared over the bottom edge of the window down at the cart, unconsciously biting her lip.

"What do you even do in the country?" I asked her.

"Farm work," she practically whispered. "There are some folks out there better than the rest. Not too many. Hunting. Odd jobs. A couple of people took a shot, first time I was out there. These days, if someone did that, there are decent odds some of 'em would string the asshole up for me."

"Sounds like you got lucky," I said. "I genuinely hope it continues to be that way once you're there."

She shivered, staring down at the cart, biting her lip.

"You could be lucky too," she said quietly, unable to tear her gaze away from the cart. "Two of us could fit in that, and-"

"No," I said simply, and her gaze finally shifted. I mimed tugging on a collar. "I think Intelligence might take desertion more seriously than just you vanishing back into the shadows, Alice. Only one person is making it out of here tonight. If she wants to."

"You set this up," Alice accused. "You arranged it because you fucking know."

I…on the one hand, this was so different from what my relatives had inflicted on me, and at the same time so very much the same, wasn't it?

I licked my suddenly dry lips, trying to find words that would make it sound less like I'd manipulated her. In the end, they kept circling back to the truth.

"I did," I admitted. "I don't think you can blame me for what caused it, though?"

"Of course I can," she hissed. "You made something that was supposed to be simple into such a complicated mess. It's worse that you didn't actively do it."

"Do what?" I asked carefully.

Her face grew angrier for a second, then mixed with anguish and sorrow as she struggled to find words. I kept quiet. The wrong word could set her off like a pile of gunpowder, consuming both me and her.

"That fucking night ruined everything," she complained bitterly. "I drank more than I should have, more than I ever had before, and I was too fucking open and said what I knew would screw everything up."

"Would the 'everything' be tricking me into loving you for protection?" I asked lightly.

The expression on her face twisted more as she growled, tears forming.

"You know; don't pretend you don't. I as much as said it to you that night."

"You said you thought you loved me, maybe," I reminded her quietly.

"Fuck," she said, and now the tears were flowing. "I…fuck, I didn't know then, Malvia, didn't know until I'd made it out, and then every day I felt like my insides were twisting until I tried to go back, I tried to find you. That I should have apologized. Should have brought you with me. Too fucking prideful to say sorry for being a deceitful snake and letting that poison everything from the start. Snuck back into the city, into the Quarter while it was under siege, only to hear you were fucking dead. Found the fucking corpse. I almost let myself die in there, but I got back out, with what I thought was your body, buried it, and tried to move on with my life."

My eyes were wide in surprise. She'd come back? She'd found the biosculpted corpse I'd used to fake my death and buried it? And I'd never heard a word the entire time.

"Life wouldn't let me move on, though," she continued bitterly. "Fucking Malachti came, at Versalicci's bidding, with a newspaper, and you were alive. Alive this entire time. Dragging my name through the mud. And…it's not even that you dragged it. I wasn't using it anymore. But you never told me. And fuck, I get it. If I were in your shoes, I wouldn't have trusted me either, but it hurt because I thought you were dead, and you weren't, you bitch. Then I found out you were Versalicci's sister, and fuck me for feeling betrayed given what I did, but it felt that way all the same. So I came back, not even sure what I wanted to do until I was in your house with a shotgun in my hand. Confessing all this then, well, I wanted to delay for a better time, only the second time you were a wreck and decided to coerce me into drinking drugged tea."

She was sobbing now, and instinctively I took a step closer, hesitantly put a hand on her shoulder. It only made her cry harder.

"We're a pair of messes, aren't we?" I asked, as she slowly pieced herself back together. "Biting at each other at every turn, until nothing's left."

"Some of it was enjoyable biting," she whispered, moving closer, clinging to me, head resting against my chest.

My mouth suddenly went dry, and I bit my lip. "Yes, it was, wasn't it?"

My tail snaked down, curling around a trouser-clad thigh. Alice stilled, then looked up, still-wet gaze meeting my own.

"Malvia, what are you doing?" She asked me, voice surprisingly calm.

What was I doing? This, this was insanity even to be thinking, but then I was looking down at her, and any thoughts of insanity vanished.

"I don't know if I love you anymore," I whispered to her. "But I wouldn't mind finding out again."

Her eyes widened, then with just the slightest inclination of her head, my tail pulled. My hands caught her before she hit the rough wooden floor, and then I was on top of her, and as lips met, we melted into each other.

***

"Young Lord Karsin told me that you are the length of all evil, the most devious creature to walk the earth, and maliciousness made manifest," Gregory said, having recounted the entirety of his conversation with Karsin.

I raised an eyebrow. "The length of all evil?"

"He's young," Gregory said with a grin. "I think he got his metaphors confused. And you have to admit, it's quite easy to think of you as devious."

"That is true," I said, idly reaching into my coat. "And in that spirit, I heal you in the name of evil."

Gregory's confused expression turned panicked as I pulled the wand out of my coat, jabbing forward with it and hitting him in the cheek.

A second passed as the tiny bit of life energy stored in the wand discharged, and I gazed at the patch of skin. Shapechangers always changed when their internal store of life energy was added to. Usually, by morphing out of control. The skin didn't change in the slightest.

That's also how long it took for Gregory to realize I'd jabbed him with a healing wand and not something nastier.

"Did you just test whether I was a shapechanger?" He asked incredulously, keeping his outrage under enough control not to yell.

"Yes," I said, tone placid. "So, now you get to explain what possessed you to start taking muscle-enhancing alchemicals, or whatever else is making your physique temporarily change, because it's been bugging me this entire time. And I am definitely not the only one who's noticed by now."

Gregory's expression flickered between anger and embarrassment before the latter won out. "Alchemicals."

"Where did you get them?" I asked him bluntly.

He hesitated. "There is a man who runs a shop. It's in Garretsville."

"Garretsville is a dock district where you either unload bulk goods or goods you want hidden," I said, eye narrowing. "You went to some criminal shop set up in the basement of a warehouse, didn't you? Which syndicate?"

His lips pursed. "I'm not accepting judgment from someone who's described herself as a sketchy alchemist who got their ingredients from grave robbing."

"Slightly sketchy," I replied. "Which is why I want a name and later a sample to make sure they didn't sell you some horribly cut crap that's going to cause you permanent damage if you use it. Then we can talk about cheating your way into something you could earn with exercise."

"Big words coming from the woman who shapeshifts at will, or used to use alchemicals to keep awake most hours of the day," Gregory retorted.

"The biosculpting is cheating, sure, but it's a lot less risky than exposure to alchemicals," I replied. "Besides, I can't get my ears that precise naturally. And where did you hear about the alchemicals?"

"Gossip," he said. "It took maybe ten minutes to wear your former comrades into telling me stories of your time in the Black Flame."

Damnations. I never should have let them be alone in one place together. Still.

"I stopped using them for the same reason," I told him. "Even if you get perfectly mixed alchemicals, after a while, it becomes a dependency. And with ones that alter your body like that, ones that permanently change you? Dangerous even when made well. Why did you decide to use them?"

"I..," he hesitated again. "I wanted to get stronger."

I dismissed the joke about what else he could have used them for from my mind before it reached my tongue. "Why?

"Because when I was at the party," he told me. "I should have died."

I blinked. This has just become a conversation I was definitely not suited for. "I'm sorry, the party where the shapechangers tried to replace your brother?"

"No!" he practically shouted, then winced, shrinking in on himself. "Not that party. The one after. When you went to the Archives with Elise, I was stuck at the tea party with Barnes! The one where the shapechangers came and tore through everyone there!"

Oh, right, I'd heard about that, but between my own misadventures in the Imperial Archives and the interrogation of Hawkins, I'd never pried too much into what had happened.

"You think you should have died because you think you deserve it more than those who did?" I asked.

He snorted bitterly. "Malvia, I don't think I should have died. I don't hate myself enough for that. No, I know I should have died. Because if Barnes wasn't there, I'd be dead. And it was because I was useless."

"Useless?" I repeated.

"I did nothing but stay alive," Gregory snapped. "Worse, all I did was distract Barnes while people died in front of me. All I did was make things worse. While they cut people I knew into fucking shreds."

I tried to think of something to say. How had I felt when I'd seen my first death in the Quarter? When the first person I knew was killed? When I'd killed someone myself, felt their life expire at my hands?

Time had dulled them so much, so many deaths since then.

"I talked to Barnes afterwards," Gregory said to me. "About it. And she said, either make sure I never end up in that situation again or try to become stronger. I chose the latter."

I didn't point out that taking muscle-enhancing alchemicals was a poor way of going about it, but the thought was there.

"So why you've been more aggressive occasionally?" I ventured. "You were trying to act stronger."

"Yes," he admitted, eyes wet. "I was, well, emulating someone who came to mind with how to act."

He couldn't meet my eyes, as I thought about who he was talking about. Oh.

"You don't want to be like me," I told him. "Honestly, it doesn't suit you. Even more honestly, I'm not a good person."

"You're better than some people I know," he said, and I shook my head.

"Relatively maybe, but Gregory, when people told you to look up what I'd done in the past, they were right," I told him. "I've done things I'm not proud of. Even more than most people would consider horrific. It says something that for the longest time, my lines were don't torture because it's ineffective, don't eat flesh, but feel free to bite. I was better than that when we met, and I'd like to think I'm even better now, but when people say I deserve the noose for what I did back in the day, they aren't lying."

"That doesn't change how you've acted around me," he said furiously. "I didn't always agree with what you said; it was disturbing at times, but you were trying to help me. You did no harm you didn't think was justified. I just saw it all and decided the right course was to blame everything on you, because you bit a friend's fingers, because you weren't able to keep Edward from being abducted by dragons!"

Drakes, but for once, my mind kept my tongue from saying anything.

"So I went into your shop," he continued. "Angrier at you than at my father, at Karsin, at anyone else, and made you suffer. And because I thought it would be useless to say I haven't said what I should have. I'm sorry. It wasn't fair. Of me. Taking out my frustrations on you, and especially everything else. Bottled up anger vented at you because I thought you'd be driven away, and I hurt you. I'm sorry."

"I think it helped chase some delusions away," I said. "For me at least. You as well, I hope. Because when I was chasing you, it was a fantasy. Should have been clear the moment I suggested dancing on top of corpses, but I kept on chasing that dream."

"Maybe," he said. "That makes it even worse that I met you, and I became entranced by this fantasy of you."

"Any worse than me engaging in the same thing from the other side?" I asked. "Both of us pursued shadows. Both of us reacted poorly when we didn't live up to what had been built up."

"Don't spread this equally," Gregory said. "I caused much more injury than you."

"Do we set scales to see how much we hurt each other?" I asked him. "No. We hurt each other. We're sorry we did it. I'm sorry for not trying to protect Edward, because, regardless of whether I could refuse the drakes, I didn't even make sure he was secure."

A pause, then Gregory nodded. "Okay, we hurt each other. And we're sorry we did. How do you want to do things moving forward?"

"Fresh start?"

Gregory nodded. "Fresh start."

"Good," I replied. "And I'll help you with getting stronger, in a way that doesn't involve sketchy and dangerous alchemicals."

"Thank you," he replied. "I only wish I could offer something in return."

"Simple," I told him, then hesitated before killing that part of me. "If I'm about to do something that is wrong, try to talk me out of it. Please. I don't want to unload the horrendous task of trying to be my conscience, but for the most egregious things-"

"I don't think you need one at this point," Gregory told me. "Makes me hate what I did even more, that I hated you for being something you're trying to make yourself not be anymore and-"

"No blaming ourselves," I told him firmly. "Don't go down that road."

"Okay," he said, holding up a hand in surrender. "Even so, I told a wonderful person she was a monster. So I'll blame myself a little."

"You will not," I insisted.

My tail wrapped around his waist and reeled him in across the pews. Startled, he didn't have a chance to resist, letting me pull across the bench. He nearly tilted, putting a hand up to stop himself from falling, but I caught him first, tail holding him just a little ways away from me.

"Malvia, what are you- "

He stopped as my hand caressed the side of his cheek.

"Something I think I can try now, if you're willing," I told him as my other hand grabbed the back of his head, tousling his hair, then I pulled him in until our lips met.

Oh no, some small part of me whispered. Why am I doing this again? I already did this once!

The rest of me was far more interested in doing other things and not thinking as much. Especially when he relaxed and didn't pull away and let me in.

I undid buttons unconsciously with one hand, traveling down the middle of his shirt, the other cradling the back of his head as I pushed him down on the pew. The urge was there to pull and rip, but best not to leave any traces.

His hand was under my shirt now, on my back, pulling as we tumbled down and down to the surface of the pew. Hands twined with hair, lips with lips.

***

"-there's a whole host of Infernals on their way Micheal. They're trying to be sly but there's no hiding there's about twenty naming their way this way."

By some miracle, I wasn't so distracted by ongoing activities to miss overhearing the conversation outside the warehouse.

Some very dedicated effort was being put into keeping me distracted though, as tails twined and horns lightly knocked into each other. To the point it took a few seconds for my brain to catch up with my ears while the two outside squabbled over if they should do something about the oncoming Infernals.

Shite. This many people this close at this time meant they were here. I lifted my head up reluctantly, glaring at the wall where Versalicci and his escort approached.

Alice didn't stop. Her tail caressed my neck, hands grabbing the lapel of my coat and taking me back down. Hungry eyes stared into my own.

"Come on," Alice said. "You seriously going to-"

"Versalicci's coming," I told her, and her grip slackened as she groaned.

"Fuck that, come back down," she told me furiously

"Really?" I asked flatly, pulling away to protests as her hands finally let go.

"Do you think I give a fuck if he thinks you and me were trading saliva?" she shot back. "Honestly I'd prefer we keep going until he gets here and you just make him fucking wait until we were done."

I.. well, the thought certainly had its appeal in certain ways. And she knew it, from the way she was grinning as she stretched out across the coat, undoing another button.

"Come on Malvia," she said. "You left the door open, and it's so cold."

I stared flatly at the closed door, then back to her.

Obvious lie, check. Playing on my emotions check. Potential manipulation check.

The knowledge she might be manipulating was a poisonous worm in my mind, hurting as it traveled through it, but also helping steel myself because I wanted to go back, to envelop her and kiss and-

I turned as I heard someone hurrying up the stairs.

"Careful, we have someone coming," I said, drawing my revolver.

Tolman wrenched the door to the room open, then hurried inside.

"Alice we got minutes where is Ma-"

However that sentence was supposed to end was cut off as he looked at both of us. Expression turned stern, Tolman crossed his arms.

"I'm not even going to question you two's judgment for doing this, but here and now of all places and times?"

I didn't know if I wanted to punch or thank Tolman. Alice had no such indecision.

"Tolman, you fucking asshole," she snapped, moving to a sitting position.

"Good afternoon to you as well Alice," Tolman said. "Thanks to the both of you for letting me know Malvia was here, or that you two decided right now was the perfect time to decide you don't hate each other anymore. Got all your issues worked out?"

"Hardly," I told him. "Listen, how much time do we have?"

"A few minutes at most. The welcoming committee the locals have put out and Versalicci are having a stand off at the moment."

"I'm not leaving," Alice told Tolman.

I paused. Oh. Somehow, I hadn't thought of if-well, I had been distracted.

"Right, so we're running then?" Tolman asked without missing a beat. "I'm hoping the idea isn't to fight."

"No, we're still paying," I replied getting shocked looks from the both of them. "No reason to make him anymore upset than he's going to be. Get ready."

***

Somehow, I wasn't completely distracted when I heard the same bubbly voice from down the hall, a touch more sober now.

"-I put them in the private chapel, Mourner Kelson. Are you sure this is a good idea? What if they're the people who have been killing priests, one of them is an-"

"Anna, I appreciate the concern but I doubt anyone would come here just to kill me. Or if they did, they'd hardly be both this polite or blatantly obvious."

I groaned, pulling my head up. If I was going to make horrendous mistakes, at least leave me in peace to enjoy them!

"Problem?" Gregory whispered underneath me.

"Priest is coming," I whispered, while hurriedly getting off of him, buttoning my shirt back up. "Try not to look like, well you know."

Gregory didn't waste any time with questions as I hurriedly put my coat back on, then tried to get my hair looking less tousled.

To my shock, by the time I was only partway towards approaching presentable, Gregory looked nearly back to how he had before.

"How?" I asked as he got his own coat back on.

"Took a little longer than normal," he admitted. "Had to get the darker part of the scarf over where you bit me."

I blinked. When? There was the taste of copper in my mouth, but I couldn't consciously recall making the decision to put teeth to flesh.

"And I've had plenty of experience with this," Gregory continued. "And-"

The doors opened, and an older man, bald-headed with a fringe of grey hair and a crescent-shaped scar under one eye, clad in a black and red robe, walked through.

Right, now came the hard part of this meeting.

"Did I interrupt something?" he asked as the priestess from before came in behind him.

"No," I said. "Hello, Mourner Kelson, thank you for coming to meet with us."

Time to convince him to let us fake his death.

Then I could go have a scream over the new pair of messes I'd decided to add to my life.

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