The quartet of priests disappeared into the veil of shadows as I watched, seemingly consumed by the darkness.

  Baltaren was the god of night and dark, so this shouldn’t be too shocking, but still there was something disconcerting about all of this. The distance I’d walked with Timmel had felt far longer than the length of this cathedral on the outside. But was that my senses pying tricks on me, or the interior of this pce not matching the outside?

  Part of why I wouldn’t want to sneak after them. No guarantee that I’d end up in the same pce as them if I followed after. I wouldn’t be shocked if any attempt to trail Timmel would result in me arriving at the front door instead with an implicit order to get out.

  Made it even more impressive that the killer had seemingly bypassed all of this with ease.

  It did make having a private talk with Voltar and Dawes more difficult as we stayed here. If divine magic of this scale suffused into the cathedral’s walls, it could easily be used to overhear what we said near it. And there were few ways to check if that was the case.

  Even opening myself to the Arcane in a deity’s seat of power could have consequences, especially if said deity wasn’t favorably inclined at the moment. Looking over all the covered-up bodies that used to be his priests, I was betting on Baltaren not being in a pleasant mood right now.

  I didn’t carry any sound-dampening charms on me like Uncle Liu did either. So for right now any conversation would need to be innocuous until we found a workaround.

  “So,” I said returning to where Dawes and Voltar stood over the partially diabolized corpse of Lelieth. “Anything here you want me to test? I’ll add it to the queue waiting for me at home.”

  I’d not even begin analysis on the materials gathered from the first crime scene, let alone any of the now three we had visiting today.

  “Some things,” Voltar said, carefully moving Lelieth’s body with gloved hands. “I doubt examining pieces of her will produce any insights, unless you disagree?”

  “If I had any samples pre-transformation, I would,” I said, kneeling down and finding one of those tusks a little too close as I scooted back. “Without knowing what their biology was like beforehand? I would mostly be trying to determine what infernal corruption inside was the result of their own casting or modifications they chose to make.”

  “Diabolists take years or decades of practice to manifest changes if they aren’t Infernals, don’t they?” Doctor Dawes asked with a troubled frown.

  “Depends on how much energy you internalize versus letting run free in the environment, and Infernals change too,” I replied. “And for non-Infernals? Changes tend to be internal first, then external. Devil magic might not be able to enter the world without leaving some trace, but it does do its best to try and hide its presence. Probably why they have Tildae’s church involved. Healing and purification means they either mitigate or fight back against any internal changes. Keep themselves free of any side effects for as long as possible. Don’t suppose there’s any leftover devil bits?”

  Technically I could analyze those for maybe trace amounts of the summoner’s magic. However, devil reagents were damn near impossible to acquire and I was far more interested in getting my mitts on a set of those. And from the looks on Voltar and Dawes’ faces, they knew it too.

  “Sorry Miss Harrow, but the priests have already banished the Devil’s corpses,” Voltar said. “Didn’t want it profaning their cathedral.”

  I sighed loudly, about to sit cross-legged on the ground only for the squeal of my wooden splint and a shock of pain up my stump to make it clear how that would go. Forced to remain standing, I watched as Voltar continued his examinations.

  “Any description of the killer?” I asked Voltar.

  “The survivors of the attack were unfortunately vague,” Voltar said. “And our murderer wasn’t so idiotic as to attack a group undisguised. Initially clouded by Infernal Magic, the priests dispelled it partway through the attack only to find the killer in a cloak and a mask resembling a grinning devil’s face. Mean anything to you?”

  I frowned, thinking. “Not particurly. Wait. There were a couple of small non-Infernal gangs operating near the Quarter when I first lived there who liked masks like that. The idea was that in the dark the Watch would mistake them for Infernals, go looking for them into the Quarter while they slipped into their own districts and hid the masks.”

  “Possibly a former member?” Dawes asked. “You would be shocked at what some people hold onto out of sentimentality.”

  “Maybe,” I replied uncertainly. “You would be better off asking the Watch than me. Did the priests notice anything about the killer’s build, did they seem injured, anything notable at all?”

  “Medium build, seemed male but not particurly muscur,” Voltar said. “Didn’t seem particurly athletic, did not use any divine magic at all to complement his arsenal of diabolism.”

  “Not shocking,” I said. “Even if using it wouldn’t immediately give away which deity they worshipped, mixing divine magic and diabolism is difficult enough when different people are casting. The same person caster would be dangerous. Medium build, male?”

  “Yes,” Voltar said. “Unfortunately, not a concrete sign these days of one’s appearance.”

  “Are you thinking of illusions, Biosculpting, or a Shapechanger?” I asked him.

  “Given his domains, illusions are of limited use on servants of Baltaren,” Voltar replied. “And even if there were still shapechangers in the city, I imagine they would want to keep their heads down. But Biosculpting is quite suited for hiding details about one’s appearance.”

  “There are some details that are harder to fake,” I said. “Biosculpting can changes a person’s build or features, but either they had them changed already and distributing a description among licensed Biosculptors would have some chance of catching him.”

  It was unlikely that the body was a long-set disguise like Katheryn Fara had been, a well-maintained sculpt fed energy every month in order to be maintained. Unless our killer was someone who had faked their death or otherwise arranged for a period of seclusion, any change in appearance should be noticed. So once we’d had Derrick or Galspie rule that out for us, that left the disguise having been crafted recently.

  “The only details are the build,” I said. “To hide that would mean a full body adjustment. Lengthening or shortening just the spine or the legs would risk being disproportionate enough to comment on. And full body adjustments don’t come cheaply, they are an involved, time-consuming process. The records of licensed biosculptors should note anything like that over the past week.”

  “That’s good for the licensed biosculptors,” Dawes commented. “What about the illicit ones like yourself?”

  “Illicit alchemist,” I corrected. “Biosculpting I never advertised because of the notoriety and the attention it brings. Criminals are some of the first people who want their appearances changed, so anyone who can do so is noticed, far more than I should be. Mind you, until we know for sure, we can’t even say for certain if our killer is even male biologically.”

  Changing physical gender was something that was not exactly easy but you got better the more you did it. Between helping Tolman and practicing on myself quite a bit I could do it in less than a day. It had proven handy a few different times. Someone specializing in it could probably manage it in even less time, as long as they had the necessary supplies.

  Voltar still hadn’t finished his examination of the corpse, and I wanted impatiently, waiting both for a chance to examine the body and to try and find a way around potential scrying. Writing would fool auditory scrying, but not visual. Tracing on his arm or something like that would be overtly suspicious behavior as well.

  “I’m done with my examination,” Voltar said. “The killer appears to have grasped the throat, and appears to be taller but again we have the issue of potential physical modifications. This does confirm that the transformation is necessary for the killing, yet the de-consecration is not? Strange, considering the former diabolists of the Bck Fme went to the trouble of de-consecrating their target’s chapel.”

  “Is this where Sister Lelieth preaches?” I asked.

  Voltar nodded, acknowledging my point. “We’ll have to consult with Bishop Timmel on where she usually preaches from. It’s possible we could catch our killer in the act of de-consecrating it.”

  Doubtful, since anyone would half a brain would make that their top priority after this stunt. A thought I was going to verbalize until I saw Voltar staring pensively at the shadows the priests had vanished into.

  “It seems we have truly been left alone by our hosts,” Voltar observed as Dawes started his own examination.

  “Indeed,” I said with forced politeness. “Makes one wonder why they’d be so trusting.”

  Voltar looked around, then quietly looked at something inside his coat.

  “It is safe to talk,” he said, pulling what he’d been examining out.

  “You could have mentioned you had one of those,” I groused, looking at the lightless pale yellow gem.

  Where the hells had Voltar gotten an infused citrine? Magic-touched gemstones glowed in the presence of certain kinds of magic, and for citrine divination made them gleam and glisten like a miniature sun.

  “Yes,” Voltar said. “Except I don’t make a habit of letting people know I have a way to tell when I’m being magically spied on. Either way, we should be safe to discuss other findings.”

  I eyed the room around us. Who knew exactly what lurked inside those shadows? Call me paranoid, but the ck of scrying magic at work made me more suspicious, not less.

  “Some things are better left discussed somewhere else,” I warned. Hells, saying that was already going to set off any unrung arm bells in that trio’s head.

  “It depends,” Voltar said. “In some ways, this pce might be the safest pce to discuss them. Baltaren is darkness, hiding, not one to let secrets slip out.”

  “Even to one of his priests?” I asked Voltar.

  “The risk of eavesdropping is high everywhere Miss Harrow,” Voltar said. “While my house is warded, it’s also known. And wards can be circumvented. The seat of a god dedicated to hiding? Not so much.”

  “I think you are putting way too much stock into that,” I muttered.

  “It makes me uncomfortable,” he admitted. “However I’ve been forced to accept that one must do their best or mitigate magic. Preventing it rarely does anything.”

  “Also,” Dawes commented. “The priests will be back eventually. Even if they’re secretly discussing what they don’t want us to overhear, they’ll have that list back at some point. Hrrm. I think Sister Lelieth may have been an addict. Miss Harrow, can you lean down?”

  Sighing, I tried to crouch, only for the wooden splint around my tail to thunk against the floor once again.

  “Can you please just tell me what you see?”

  Dawes pulled the flesh of the cheek back some, lifting it away from the diabolism-grown horn. “See those white spots in the back of her throat?”

  I couldn’t, but I knew what he was describing. I went to one of the few intact benches, wedging myself in so my tail wasn’t bent and just sitting down. Just standing up had felt exhausting, like I might colpse at any moment.

  “Ol’ Scratch,” I said. “So, drugs might be the reason gluttony took to her. Not what we should discuss though. Interesting that they all left. Can’t be that we just found our third member of the group leading this priests turned into diabolists program have we?”

  “Hrrm?” Voltar said, turning his gaze to me.

  Right. I caught both of them up on my travels after the second of today’s murders up until I had fallen unconscious. The relevant part of my conversation with Liu, the conversation with Alberta Vesper and the potential lead there, and the talk with Derrick. My dreams were mine and I kept entirely to myself. And my securing of the Tyler’s Sacrificial circle to be brought to my house by Holmsteader.

  That st bit definitely got his attention.

  “It’ll arrive tomorrow?”

  “Either that or I make another visit to Glee Street,” I said. “I thought Vesper’s ritual would grab your attention more than that.”

  “Anyone willing to undergo it likely is not a taker of the deal,” he said. “Someone unwilling likely is. It doesn’t seem the kind of thing you can bluff.”

  “Also, she could be lying,” Dawes pointed out. “It seems rather convenient for her to know all of this and have a solution, isn’t it?”

  “It is,” I admitted. “Something to keep in mind, but we can maybe test it. The Bck Fme Diabolists I have an idea for tracking. But first, what did you two do while I was chasing my own leads?”

  “Tracking down suppliers,” Dawes said. “A lot do the supplies for Diabolism the priests were using are specialty equipment, so I was checking stores to see if I could trace them. I got lucky on quite a few of them, and some mentioning of my name got me some client lists. We’re hoping we can identify some of the targets based on that.”

  “They probably have go-betweens,” I pointed out, frowning. “The organizations are rge enough, that unless we’re talking about equipment that can only be used for Diabolism, the people picking it up might not even know what it’s for. And it could be traded who knows how many times inside the church hierarchy itself.”

  “It’s a start,” Dawes said quietly. “It takes time.”

  “I know, I didn’t mean for that to be insulting,” I said. “The issue is time is something we are quickly running out of.”

  Four dead. Eight left? And only two days into this. Finding out who those eight were if the churches were unwilling to py ball would be necessary, but that didn’t change that the rate of the murders was increasing.

  “And you Mr. Voltar?” I said. “What did you spend your afternoon on?”

  “Going back to the scene of the first crime,” he said. “It seems that all the thefts in the area occurred at the same time every night. New targets, but an hour past midnight every three days like clockwork. I pn to intercept the thief in his next robbery.”

  “Don’t believe it’s a coincidence do you?”

  “In my experience, it’s always best to make sure coincidences remain coincidence.”

  “Back to my original point,” I said. “Timmel as the third ringleader of this joint program. He, Derrick, and Galspie seem well-acquainted.”

  Not friendly in the case of Timmel and Galspie but an indication they’d had those arguments before.

  “Did Bishop Derrick not say that the founding churches behind this effort did not include Baltaren?” Voltar asked.

  “Sure,” I replied. “Right now I trust that as much as I would Galspie asking me out for dinner. They want as much about this hidden as possible, otherwise we would know the other targets by now. We’d be gathering them up, not listening to a list of excuses for why they can’t that all revolve around a single core reason, which is they want as little about this to get out as possible.”

  “Not unreasonable,” Dawes said. “Vexing, yes but if it were to get out that these churches had been involved in Diabolism, I dare say riots would break out.”

  “Riots are already going to break out,” I replied irritably. “The only difference is who those riots will target, so pardon if my sympathy is a little limited at the moment.”

  “Oh, it’s despicable,” Dawes agreed. “Letting the Quarter take the fall at the moment, but I understand why it’s occurring. Very short-sighted though. If it does come out after, and it’s becoming harder to prevent that, the initial attempt to restrain it will make the public’s anger more fiery, not less.”

  If it came out, which the assorted churches were assuredly trying to prevent. Not really worth discussing further, or at least not here.

  “Killer struck in the middle of a group,” I said, sparing a gnce at the shroud-covered bodies of the other priests. “They don’t fear the crowd, or opposition. Many priests in attendance, who clearly fought back.”

  Also delivering a message implicitly. No one was safe no matter how many safeguards we set. Interesting that this happened after my discussion with Bishop Derrick on the importance of getting all the priests under the same roof.

  No, concurrently, or even before. There was no reasonable way even with magic for Bishop Derrick to have acted on that if she was or knew the killer. This had clearly been pnned, and no magic could go back in time. However the fact this was pnned meant the killer must have discovered it beforehand.

  I doubted it was in the list Timmel was bringing. Not unless there was a second Diabolist among the Baltarens, and even then it seemed too obvious. They’d save a stunt like this for the end of the killings if they could, not the start. And they’d already said knowledge of this could have spread far. No, there was another reason for this.

  One I could guess, possibly. Keeping the priests seperated.

  It would be harder than before to convince them the priests should be grouped up. A good argument could be made that all it would do is provide the killer with more of their targets in a single pce. Not a bad argument, when they could get into Baltaren’s own cathedral and murder their target, several of Baltaren’s priests, then escape with barely a scratch on them. Sure, one could argue luck and surprise, but it wouldn’t hold much weight.

  Oh, staying separate would still be a mistake. The killers clearly knew where their targets were, even the Bck Fme ones who should have no idea about the program. Names had been whispered, maybe even a way of tracking them.

  “Where is Captain Walston?”

  Voltar’s question interrupted my thoughts as I looked at him quizzically. Why ask that now instead of before? I suppose anticipating a difficult answer, but hardly something that needed to be hidden.

  Well, it was an easy enough answer for me.

  “Walston tried to have me taken to somewhere not here,” I told Voltar. “Tired, injured, and alone. While I can’t say with certainty she tried to kill me, her reaction to my noticing was to try and club me in the face.”

  He paused, digesting that for a few seconds with no change in his expression. “You have evidence?”

  “No,” I admitted. “Unless you want to use magic to make sure I’m telling the truth, the best is my word against hers, and I know who will win that.”

  “Not necessarily her,” Voltar said. “Her current assignment is because of some irregurities noted about her work.”

  “She still is a Watch officer, and I am not,” I said. “And since I am alive, I doubt anyone is going to care too much. Unless you think Intelligence wants to fight the Watch over this? When she can probably say truthfully to her superiors that she wants me dead for not being in a cell at the Coffin? Or hanging from a noose somewhere? How many do you think would care? How many do you think would agree? Both probably outnumber the rest by ten to one.”

  “You think that was the reason instead of the case?” he asked me.

  “If it was the case, I don’t think she’d have let me live,” I said. “Oh sure, she would have died if she tried to attack me, but an investigation from you turning up that as her motive if she lived would have led to her head on a chopping block. And down there would not have been pleased by failure.”

  You make a deal with a devil, your soul tended to be fated for where those devils resided.

  “This will need to be looked into regardless,” he told me. “And if I find that she did in fact do this I will press for her arrest.“

  “Don’t bother,” I said. “I appreciate it, but it’s not likely to lead anywhere and we have bigger fish to fry.”

  “Yes,” he admitted. “One of them is you deciding to take actions without my permission. Pressings Timmel on that list and ceding on the nature of the ritual-“

  “What are the odds it was even relevant?” I asked, and Dawes winced.

  “Perhaps nothing,” Voltar said, teeth practically grating. “Perhaps everything, by the end of this case. It depends on if it was even real.”

  I paused, frowning. What was he imply-ah.

  “You think this was faked,” I said ftly.

  “Perhaps, perhaps not,” Voltar said.

  “The bodies shown signs of death by diabolism,” Dawes said from down below. “That or css, bites, or other forms of magic that devils tap into.”

  “Still,” Voltar said. “Rushing into this without knowing everything is likely to lead us down the wrong path.”

  “We got very lucky,” I told Voltar. “Powerful devils were summoned, but the worst of them were only inside here. If they’d gotten outside-”

  “They would have been handled swiftly,” Voltar said irritably. “This is hardly two hundred years ago, Miss Harrow. The defenses of this city-”

  “Are a fool’s ideas if they think devils can do nothing,” I said, ignoring the fsh of annoyance across his face. Upset about being the one interrupted instead of the other way around? “But that’s ignoring the greater point, which is devils like that rampaging across the streets is going to mean hells to py. Those little devil dogs are probably going to lead to either riots or half the city spending the next week indoors, and they were bottom feeders. Could you imagine if something more powerful went on a rampage?”

  I don’t know who would be the targets of riots first, the Infernal Quarter being bmed for the devils or the Church of Halspus for not preventing their summoning? Both? Cold comfort if the church was destroyed at the same time as the rest of us. And then Her Majesty’s Government might get the bme as well, and Tagashin was right about the potential powder keg this city was becoming.

  “Time is ticking,” I said. “And in more ways than just the risk of a devil. Yesterday one died. Today three. If the pattern continues we’ll have nine total tomorrow?”

  Voltar scoffed. “I would argue there is the limit, a showing of how many they can manage per day.”

  “Or it’s a ritual set,” I countered. “A py on symbolism or some other arcane formu only the devil cares about. We could bring a diabolist more learned than me in, and the one Samuel sent me to already has enough inklings about this I think she should be. But the issue there remains time and how much we have left.”

  Voltar sighed. “This is why I hate magic. Makes a middle of everything.”

  I frowned. “It has its rules and consistencies, just like everything else.”

  “Yes, rules that warp and bend as you deal with them until you find yourself dealing with a self-aware painting or a magic cricket that attacks people with icicles or impnting memories in you trying to convince you they’re your psychotic forgotten sister,” Voltar said, eyes narrowed and the most furious I’d ever heard him. “Is it too much to ask for a little logic?”

  “Just because it doesn’t come intuitively doesn’t mean it cks logic,” I replied. “And besides, we stray from the topic of conversation. I’m not trying to undercut you on purpose.”

  “And yet you do, at an ever-increasing pace as you rush to solve this,” Voltar said. “What puzzles me is why you are so insistent on it?”

  “The common good of my fellow people?” I asked, getting a stern look from the detective. “Your brother if you must know.”

  “Ah, trying to prove your usefulness,” he said quietly. “I don’t think not having this solved by the end of the week will result in you in a noose.”

  “As the person risking said noose, I’ll judge that,” I said. “Besides, we may not even have a week. But we can’t py games with these priests, we don’t have time. I’m not telling them about the deal. That seems to be an especially dangerous thing if that spreads. Although I wonder how long it’ll take to spread naturally. Can’t imagine everyone whose taking the offer will keep it secret forever. But we need to make a move, and soon. Chasing this killer around when we still don’t know the targets isn’t helping. We need those names.”

  “And if we got them?” Voltar asked. “Lock them all in a solve somewhere secluded?”

  I was about to answer yes when a different thought occurred to me. One that was much more satisfying.

  “A different thought,” I said. “Only possible because we have multiple killers probably working towards the same goal but competing over the prize.”

  I outlined the idea very briefly, a reluctant expression emerging on Voltar’s face as I expanded on it.

  “I’d prefer cooperation for it,” he told me.

  “Asking for it would give the game away,” I replied. “Any tipping of the hand would do it. Even if it’s not the killer, I don’t see any of the bishops agreeing. Not with how they’ve cooperated so far.”

  “We’ll need a name,” Dawes said, getting up from Lelieth’s body.

  “We either convince the priests, or follow the leads you’ve started pursuing,” I said. “Or I try a different tact.”

  “Gregory Montague?” Voltar asked. “How will you get that, I wonder?”

  “By asking,” I snapped at him. “He doesn’t seem enamored with either of them.”

  “But is he enamored with your methods more than them?” Voltar asked me.

  “I suppose we’ll have to find out.”