Chapter 54 - A Party to Remember II

Kill? Kill.

The lord of the manor was currently stomping his way halfway up the stairs, face red, mustaches vibrating as they had during our initial negotiations. 

“It’s bad enough you bring a Hellspawn into our house,” he yelled, and now every eye in the party was locked on the two of us only an inch away from each other. “Now you decide to do unholy acts with her inside my house?!”

With feigned embarrassment, I let go of Gregory, pulling back and trying to look in any direction that did not have an onlooker. 

I failed, my gaze eventually settling on Voltar and Dawes in the middle of a knot of guests. They’d probably been listening to some account or another of the pair’s adventure before…this.

Voltar winked at me, and I was suddenly struck by a wish for the probable shapechangers in the band to start changing now. Maybe kill a few guests. Anything.

Lord Montague was still ranting at Gregory, who was looking down at his father with an easy grin. His lordship had made it near the top of the stairs and, realizing from the silence that nearly everyone could hear him, had lowered his volume to merely loud.

“-embarrassment enough. I told you not to ruin this event.”

The look from father to son was pure venom, more akin to looks I’d seen from those outside the Quarter for daring to be out of it. It made me wonder again how light that banter between them actually was. 

“Lord Montague,” I said quietly but firmly. “This was not your son’s idea.”

Now, that gaze of venom was swung my way, but I refused to wilt under it. Perhaps his lordship saw too much of the mask.

“I don’t care whose idea it was. I said not to ruin my event and my son publicly making out with you-”

“Would have sparked rumors and nothing more,” I said. “A few people would have seen us, perhaps made some snide jokes at your expense, and it would have been overshadowed by your surprise invite of the Empire’s greatest detective til you ascended the staircase, yelling at us and making everyone very aware of what was going on up here.”

Being told off didn’t precisely cool down Lord Montague, but perhaps not wanting to make even more of a spectacle kept him from blowing his lid. 

Every eye was still on us, and the noise of conversation down below was probably about what had us arguing with each other. I was keeping my own tone cool and my expression innocent, which may or may not be helping in dealing with the noble.

His next statement dripped with poison but was at a conversational volume.

“I did not invite you here so you could make out with my son,” he hissed.

“And I did not come up here just to make out with your son,” I replied back. “I noticed several potential holes in security. I wanted to discuss them with him, so we came here to discuss them so your guests wouldn’t overhear. Speaking of which, does that band live on your estate?”

The rest of the servants, supposedly, lived on the ‘estate’, which wasn’t the manor itself but the surrounding buildings in the area. Lord Montague owned much of this square; part of that was servant’s quarters. The little closed-off community was the closest thing to the security we had regarding infiltration before the party.

The sudden question seemed to cut off Lord Montague’s next statement, taking the wind out of his sails. “They are from outside, but it was either this or the guests wonder why there was no musical accompaniment for the evening. This is a ball, Foulhorn. I’m not going to tip off these shapechangers in any way.”

I held my tongue. “Whatever you deem best, your lordship. It is your event.”

No use arguing what I suspected to be a lost cause. Giving me a suspicious look, Lord Montague began down the stairs. The other guests were beginning to take their attention somewhere else now that the show was over. Beginning to.

At least half still stared up here as if expecting Gregory and me to immediately resume where we’d left off now that Lord Montague’s back was turned. 

“We should stay up here a while longer. It won’t look suspicious if we stay up a while fearing Father’s wrath.”

I nodded mutely, considering the party down below. “There are a few other things I want to discuss. We should probably stay within sight, though. However, I should get off this railing. Lip readers.”

“A more common pastime than one would expect,” Gregory said. “There is a bench back there. Sitting down, people would still be able to see us.”

I eyeballed it and silently agreed. We both walked over, sitting down a few inches apart from each other.

“We shouldn’t tarry too long, but if anyone happens to glance up? I think one of us comforting the other after our little tryst being exposed like that might be in order?”

Tryst implied much more than had become close to happening, but I didn’t correct him. My lips quirked.

“You just want to find out what you just missed,” I accused.

“Not entirely wrong, but no. Do you mind leaning forward some?”

I eyed Gregory, who simply smiled, eyes innocent. Too often, that meant a plot with me as the loser, but he wouldn’t risk too much. Anything too far, and I’d kill him before his father even got the chance.

I leaned forward, trying to rest my elbows on my knees and my chin on my clasped hands.

His hands touched my bare shoulders, and I tensed up at the warmth.

I…he was touching my skin. In public. At a party. In front of the nobility. What was he thinking?

“Relax,” he told me. “You ask me to stop at any point, and I will. If I don’t, I’m pretty sure you can make me pay for it. So relax. It’ll feel better.”

I nodded, then breathed slowly. Eventually, my shoulders relaxed, and he began to knead. 

This was insanity. We’d just caused a massive fuss by nearly locking lips, and now he had his hands on my bare back. Smooth skin pressed against mine, in full view of anyone who bothered to strain just enough to see. Maybe because he was a noble and I was a common-born Infernal this wouldn’t be seen as bad? Not the same as nobles courting, so more acceptable? Is that what he saw it as?

His fingers moved in circles, working on a spot and then traveling, and each time, it felt like that part of me had turned liquid. I breathed out. Something that had been tense and unyielding for so long was finally given a chance to let go.

“Are massages part of what clerics of Tarver are taught?” I whispered,  trying to let the tension ease out of me as his hands worked.

“No, but some things you pick up in learning about others,” Gregory said.

Small bits of pain spiked across my back but quickly faded as he kneaded. It felt like anything he put his hands on unraveled after he worked on it. 

I kept my head low, not looking up. My body was beginning to feel so loose, but my mind was feeling anything but. Were people staring? Were they judging? Seeing the Infernal eo easily turning into putty in a noble’s hand?

A new thought entered as his fingers traveled lower, going across my shoulder blades.

Did it matter?

My tail wrapped around the wrist of his right hand, insistently pulling it lower. There was a knot on my lower back, just beyond the edge of the fabric.

“I heard a rumor that these have minds of their own,” Gregory said as he let his hand get pulled to that spot. “Any truth to that?”

“Some,” I answered as the sensation of relief traveled. “Depends on how much responsibility we want to claim over them at that moment.”

“Do you want to lie down? Face down, head over the side of the bench? It’ll make it easier for both of us.”

An agreement almost passed through my throat before I had a chance to think.

“That’ll take me out of people’s sight and the position is perhaps a little compromising.”

“I doubt anyone is going to think that after Father chewing us out,” he said. “But we can just stay like this if you want.”

I considered it for half a second, then began to move on the couch. He got off, giving me space as I lay across it, before kneeling down beside my prone form.

He traveled down from my shoulders to the extent of my bare skin. The dress left practically the entire half of my upper back open, and he worked on making every bit of tension there disappear.

A couple of minutes passed as my upper back turned to liquid, putty in his hand. I let myself lie there, slowly lulling off, but I forced myself to stay awake.

“We should probably discuss business,” I said, beginning to rise.

“There’s no reason we can’t do both,” Gregory said, hands continuing to massage my back.

Yes there was, which is that he was being terribly distracting when he did that.

“Best to have our minds fully focused,” I said. “But thank you.”

We went back to the railing, and this time, no one stared at us. A few idle glances but it seemed our time in the spotlight had faded.

No one had been staring at us to begin with. The little massage session had gone unnoticed.

Already, partygoers were either in their own cliques or forming around one of three groups: the Xangs, Voltar, or Lasy Karsin. 

Two of those were easily explained. My family’s connections to Her Majesty’s group of allies to overthrow Her Most Profane Majesty, and Voltar’s sleuthing adventures. Lady Karsin was the special guest of honor, so anyone wanting to curry favor with Lord Montague would consider her an in-road.

Something caught my eye, or rather, the lack of something except for the two at the entrance.

“I’m surprised there are fewer guards in sight,” I murmured. “I know your father wouldn’t want to scare any guests off, but where are they?”

“Most of them are distributed among the outer rooms,” Gregory said. “That room you and I talked in? Calab and two others are in there throughout the entire night.”

“He has enough guards to cover all of them?” I asked.

“When the archives are sealed, and he can’t move the people guarding that? Yes.”

I didn’t pry any further. Not about the archives, at least.

“How long ago was that arranged?”

“A few days. You suspect something?”

“Something changed from then till now,” I muttered. “He’s not worried anymore. Not about the shape-changers. He called this event off, had to be talked into starting it anew by Voltar, and then something made him decide to tear down his security. Has your father been alone since I and Voltar visited?”

Gregory subtly stiffened next to me, and his expression turned pensive. I couldn’t resist anymore. I lightly nudged him with my elbow.

“What?” He said.

“Please control your expression more. People are watching. But on topic, your father?”

“There’s when he’s in bed, but if they’ve changed her as well,” Gregory said, expression growing grim as he looked at his stepmother.

I nudged him again. “Don’t travel too far down that road. You’ll drive yourself insane with the possibilities. Let’s take from that we can be reasonably sure he isn’t one.”

Gregory sighed, taking his gaze off his parents and looking at me instead.

“We should rejoin the party,” Gregory said. “I think we’ve done sufficient penance up here, and people will start to talk if we don’t return.”

I didn’t want to go down, but he was right. There was only so much to observe from up here, and it would look suspicious after a while. I moved back, only for Gregory to stay on the railing. 

“What?” I asked, cocking my head to the side.

“You know, eventually, this is going to be over. Not the party, but this business with shapechangers, poisonings, and mysteries.”

Oh. He was talking about…this. Telling me not to get my hopes up?

“It will be,” I said carefully. “All things do come to an end, or so they say.”

“Yes, well. At the end, I just wanted to let you know my door is open. And my window, if you prefer doing it that way.”

My breath stilled as I looked into those far too innocent-seeming eyes. How much should I read into that? How much could I read into that?

He was, I realized, waiting for an answer.

“I might wander in,” I said, trying not to turn beet-red. “From time to time.”

"About all I could ask for,” he said, then offered me his arm. “Miss Harrow?”

I accepted his arm, and we descended back to the party while I tried to sort through what had just been said.

This was beyond just teasing and mild flirting. I’d arguably initiated that almost-kiss, but what happened after had been him.

Was I just a girl of the week? Something exotic to pursue with a personal connection that he might feel pity for? Something else?

My tail, to my horror, was trying to reach and wrap around his arm. I forced the traitor limb back behind me, not deviating a centimeter closer to him.

To our right, the band was still playing, and I eyed them all in a single glance. They appeared normal. 

“Can’t you look at them on the astral?” Gregory murmured. 

"If I could do that, this would have been solved far before now,” I replied just as quietly. “Things on different planes like the celestial may be straightforward, but the arcane is all metaphors and symbolism at the best of times. At the worst of times, it’s utter nonsense.”

At least for people who existed in the material. When dealing with spirits, spells, and other things of magic you could tell what you were looking at most of the time.

“Or maybe that’s just your interpretation,” Gregory said. “Maybe you just don’t have the right mindset.”

“How about you explain why you were a giant sunflower then?”

“My sunny disposition?”

Most of the guests were keeping a decent distance from us, although we were getting plenty of glances. Mostly scandalized looks, which I did my best to ignore.

“And just when I thought my reputation couldn’t sink lower,” Gregory mused as his own gaze looked upon those keeping a careful distance from us.

“Sorry about that,” I muttered.

“I’m joking,” he told me. “I’ve done it before. I’ll do it again.”

“I’d wager not with an Infernal, though,” I replied.

“You’re half-right,” he said. “Incoming.”

My mask went back on. The approaching group was a cavalcade of noble youths my age or younger, most of them already acquainted. They were their own little knot, being stared at with disgust by most of those in attendance. They seemed to be a rowdy bunch. Oh, and half of them had fake horns. Some of them had fake wings. A couple had fake tails. Red-dyed hair. 

If they weren’t indulging in some moronic dragon costumes, I was stuck once again on the side of nobles who stared at me with even more venom.

The ringleader, Kalrivers, a young man with black hair cut nearly to his scalp, did not. But that easygoing grin and the way his gaze fixed on me made me feel even less safe.

The topic of conversation was predictable.

“It’s been nearly two weeks without some stunt by you, Greg,” Kalrivers said. “Have to say, it’s a bit dull by your standards. We were expecting something more grand.”

“Well,” Gregory said. “I can’t take credit for this one. The entire thing was Sister Waters's idea.”

I stilled at that sudden throwing of me to the wolves as the group’s attention swung my way. 

“It uh, it seemed like a good idea at the time,” I said nervously. “I could not begin to tell you what made it pop into my head.”

“Maybe you read it somewhere,” someone who’d been introduced as a baron’s daughter with red streaks and what better not be fake horns in her hair said. “I know I sometimes draw inspiration from the books I read.”

“Unfortunately,” said the man on her arm, sparking a swift argument. Gregory rolled his eyes, then frowned as a servant came up. She whispered in his ear something about a disruption being done at the table requiring his attention, and he left.

Which left me alone with the gaggle of young nobility. And the first two minutes made it clear those costumes were Infernals, not dragons.

There were far too many questions about being an Infernal. Had I eaten a baby? Had I danced naked in honor of the Hell Lords? Was it true all Infernals were secretly diabolists? I heard from my brother you can use your tail like men. I heard from my sister that the insides of your hooves are an erogenous zone. Was it true female pink-skinned Infernals tried to eat their partners after sex? Have I ever been to the Hells? Did I know any succubi or incubi? Was I descended from an incubi or succubi was asked about eight different times?

Then two girls who were clearly older and younger sisters in full fake Infernal garb came up and asked if they could touch my tail.

Danielle Waters was a people pleaser. Not the aggressive kind. Very submissive. Why the hells had I picked her for a ball I was attending with Gregory Montague?

“I’d prefer you did not touch my tail, please,” I said, and immediately both were stroking it.

It didn’t feel bad. It felt good, which made the sense of wrongness even worse.

“If you could please let go,” I said, suddenly finding out the press of people around me made it very hard to escape these two.

“It’s not hurting you, is it?” The younger one said, stroking it even further. 

“That’s beside the point. Please let go. For your own safety.”

The older one grabbed it halfway down in a grip that was just loose enough that calling her out would feel impolite. 

“Please let it go,” I said, looking around for any opening out of this sudden nightmare. Do not hurt these idiots. This, this was temporary. Just bear through it. Roasting someone alive from the inside with diabolism was forever.

I looked for any way out, but there was nothing, only more grinning faces wearing fake masks. Masks they didn’t deserve, dressed up because they could pretend. I couldn’t. Nothing but grasping hands.

Someone grabbed one of my horns, pulling.

The entire free length of my tail swung, ramming into the older sister’s cheek and sending those stupid fake horns flying as the sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed.

“I am so sorry,” I exclaimed while the other one removed their hands from my tail like it had burned them. “Involuntary muscle responses, it’s what I was trying to warn you about. Are you okay?”

The older one seemed unable to respond, a welt forming on the side of her head where my tail had slapped them. 

There were a lot of angry expressions around me suddenly. Three larger youths were moving closer while most of the pack moved the two girls away from me. The largest one glowered down at me as he stepped forward, easily double my weight.

I was surrounded by a barricade of angry, scowling faces covered in red makeup and fake horns. Was anyone outside willing to help me? Dawes, Gregory, Voltar? Could any of them even see me?

The largest one opened his mouth when suddenly Kalrivers spoke up.

“It’s unfortunate, but you were trying to warn them, weren’t you?” 

That caused a collective stumble among the group, eyes flickering to the black-haired social leader as he went off the script the rest had decided on.

I’d been thrown a lifeline. I’d take it.

“Yes, I just wasn’t able to get a word in. I am sorry about this. I could heal the wound?”

Surprise, no one wanted the Infernal getting near the wounded noblewoman. They all backed off, leaving me with Kalrivers.

“Tell me Miss Waters, are you Gregory’s alone or would you be interested in perhaps attending some future balls with others?”

That was…very blunt. The Hells was with this small knot of nobility. 

“I am my own woman, is what I’d say first,” I said firmly. “And that this will probably be my only incursion.”

“I guess not,” Kalrivers said. “You picked a rather boring one this time, Gregory. I suppose this one isn’t of succubi or incubi lineage?”

My smile turned glacial.

Gregory had handled the disruption and had just returned, his own icy expression fixed on Kalrivers. 

“I don’t know. Even if I did know, I wouldn’t say. Some people have things called manners and decency, Arnold.”

Kalrivers snorted. “Fair enough. Miss Waters, what -”

"No to both,” I said. “But please, do ask other Infernals that question my lord. Or ask them so bluntly to sleep with you. The world could do with a laugh.”

And a set of fangs latched around your neck.

"Come on,” Gregory said, gingerly wrapping his arm around my shoulders. “The staff has started serving the appetizers.”

***

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had chocolate.

Sometime in the district, when the Black Flame had reigned supreme, which meant the shite bars from Hollans and Martel, where the cocoa powder was cut with all matters of substances as long as it meant more bars with less money. 

This was the real deal as I nibbled on a bar, letting the taste spread through my mouth with tiny bites. I just needed anything to keep my mind off of that.

That would come up sooner or later, I thought, from the awkward silence of Gregory next to me and how he was trying not to look at my tail.

I’d gathered my tail up, most of it bunched up in my lap, my free arm resting on top while my other one kept the supply of chocolate going. It pulled slightly at where it connected to the rest of me, but that didn’t matter. It was safe.

It shouldn’t matter. A bunch of noble brats are playing the rebel. Stupid questions. They’d gotten lucky because if this had been the district, they’d be trying to ask their stupid questions out of slit throats.

Gregory apparently decided he should speak up first.

“Sorry about that,” Gregory said. “Another of Kalriver’s friends accused me of something I couldn’t have physically been present for. He considers himself a rival to me and made a play at trying to get you. Back to the second floor?”

Made a play for me. Those words were not comforting in any aspect.

I lowered the chocolate bar and chuckled, a tinge of nervousness on the edge of it. “I think your father would kill us if we even tried walking to it.”

“Oh, I don’t care about that,” Gregory said. “I must say, you are once again wrecking my impression of you.”

“A good mask at work.”

“Sure. Your acting is very good. However, if you tell me all of this evening has been an act, I’ll call you a liar. But I’m just wondering, where is the Malvia Harrow who confessed about having a fling with a boy she had dick-kicked only years beforehand?”

Oh, Hells, he was referring to Daniel. That was on me for bringing him up during that trial. That pang of irritation inside me was growing larger though.

“She’s still here,” I said. “Just keeping her head down and keeping in mind that she has a role to play.”

“You seem a little shy for even keeping your head down,” Gregory said. “Even beyond the act, this seems a bit demure for you. I wouldn’t expect you to get embarrassed over what they were saying.”

Shy. Shy. I rolled that word around in my head a few times. This, this is what he wanted to talk about?

“There’s a difference between doing things in the privacy of one’s room and in public,” I replied. “Especially when most of those people staring already is ready to believe the worse things about you and are already judging you in a way you weren’t. Especially that last group of people!”

Gregory’s eyes widened slightly, and I glanced to either side. No one had taken notice. Good.

“They got under your skin a lot more than I expected.”

"They openly propositioned me just based on the fact that I have horns and a skin color that’s considered hellish,” I snapped back. “Let’s not even discuss how half of them were dressed up as Infernals, or that damn girl with my tail, or how they would have all gone for my horns next if given half a chance. What in the Hells was that?”

Gregory was silent for a bit.

"It’s a bit of a trend,” Gregory said. “While not to the point any of them would be daring enough to have an Infernal as their guest. Want to stick it to their parents, the transgressive nature, forbidden fruit, etc. Dressing up as Infernals. They even have a ranking list based on Infernal lineage.”

“…the status of the devil the bloodline was influenced by?” I ventured.

“No, the type of devil. I’ve had to sit through some of these discussions, and you would not believe how much some of them want to find an Infernal who descended from a succubus or incubus. The fantasies get very involved.”

“They should just go to a brothel then,” I hissed. “That kind of thing has no impact on anything.”

They made me prefer those who could barely hide their contempt or clumsily cover their assumption. One thing for certain, I was going to keep my own lineage even more of a very closely guarded secret from this point onwards. Just the part of it I thought the least important out of all of them.

“Not a fan of the idea, I take it?” Gregory asked.

“People discuss the lineage of horses for races and how well they will perform,” I replied. “I’m not thrilled over the idea of people asking me my lineage so they can figure out how good of a lay I’ll be.”

Gregory winced. “I can see why that would be-”

“Demeaning,” I interrupted. “Yes. So was stroking my tail. If they do it again-”

“They won’t,” Gregory assured me, which I regarded skeptically. “We’ll stick away from them. They try it, and I’ll ward them off. They get their hands on you, well.”

I let out a guttural sigh, trying to force as much emotion out as I could. “If you’ll be there. Which you weren’t. They were lucky, you know? So you better make sure you are there next time because if one of them lays a finger on me or asks me if my tail is as good as their boyfriend’s cock. Five minutes. An empty room. They won’t be able to do it again.”

“What exactly do you mean by that?” Gregory asked me, expression as sober as I’d ever seen it. 

Of course, it was. I’d threatened nobles.

“You left me there,” I said. “You could have brought me with you, but no, you left me there with them. Did you think that would end well?”

"I thought,” Gregory paused, looking across the ballroom to where Kalrivers and his ilk had gathered, then looked down. “I guess I didn’t think. I knew what they were like, but it always seemed harmless…it’s a new one each year. No. Nothing excuses it. I’m sorry, Malvia.”

I breathed in, breathed out. He’d apologized, which wasn’t nothing. More than some. More than most, thinking on it some more.

“Apology accepted. But please stop using my real name here. You said a new one every year? Do they change this stupidity up?”

“It’s a passing trend based on what’s caught their imagination and what they think is the most taboo-breaking they might be willing to stand. Two years ago it was the Keltish. Last year, it was the fey. I thought that would teach their successors not to mess around in things like that, but apparently, I was wrong.”

A guest was nearing us now, so the mask was being slammed back on.

“A story of the fey Lord Montague?” I said with cheer. “You must tell me! We hear stories about them, but I’m pretty sure the only one I ever thought I’d seen was just a very colorful insect.”

“Oh, it’s made its rounds quite a bit and is so dull to repeat. And I could hardly tell it in front of the brother of one of those directly involved. Charles! Feels like it’s been ages since we last saw each other! Miss Waters, this is Charles Daven, nephew to Count Daven and fourth in line to a minor lordship out in Chalkford.”

“It was two weeks ago, not ages,” the new arrival said, a mutton-chopped noble who couldn’t have been more than a few years older than Gregory and me. “Baron Malton’s ball. We traded a few words while you were on your way out, being chased by the Baron and his two sons.”

“Oh my,” I gasped. “Whatever reason could a baron have for chasing after a gentleman like Lord Montague?”

Charles Daven glanced my way and, in a second, dismissed me as anything worth paying attention to. It was infuriating, but ultimately, what I was going for. At least it was over personality and not the horns, but either didn’t endear me to him.

Then again, I didn’t need to be endeared. I needed them to be fooled. 

“Many a reason, I’m sure. Where did you dig this one up, Gregory?”

“Sister Waters is here from the countryside,” Gregory answered. “The temple has entrusted me with teaching her about the city and educating her regarding life here.”

“I’m learning an awful lot about the kinds of people here,” I said brightly, taking far too much glee in Gregory wincing at the statement. “So your sister was involved in this story, Lord Daven? Tell me, what did she do?”

Fey trickery could be malicious, and right now I was in the mood for malicious stories about foolish nobles.

“We shouldn’t really discuss it,” Gregory said. “It’s his sister, it’s a touchy subject.”

Oh, so this needed to the lightest touch involved then? 

“No, tell the story,” Daven deadpanned. “Teressa was an idiot who ultimately paid the price of her own utter stupidity. If she doesn’t enjoy being married to William Carter, maybe she shouldn’t have enjoyed sleeping with a physical copy of him.”

Oh, it was going to be one of those stories, wasn’t it. 

“Fey trickery?” I asked. “I thought they crafted illusions, not shapechanging.”

Some could. That had actually been a hypothesis tossed around between I and Voltar. In the end it had been discarded. Fey were too individualistic and lacking in discipline, and would have preferred a far lighter touch to our shapechanging suspects. The possibility was always there but the appliance of cold iron to Hawkins hadn’t caused his shapechanging to collapse.

“This was a particularly powerful fey,” Gregory said. “A Fox-tailed creature who seems remarkably unconcerned about the cold iron of the city.”

Wait. A kitsune had been here?

“Interesting,” I said. “I’ve never heard of this kind of fey. So, according to your story, this was part of a fad involving nobility. What was the fad?”

“Utter stupidity,” Daven repeated. “At first, it was just, to quote my sister, ‘You can’t believe what it’s like, the fur and the tail and the ears.’ It sounded like the ravings of a lunatic. Then the fey revealed she could shapeshift and was willing to take requests.”

“Requests?”

“People for her to shapeshift into before having sex. It started with just other members of the group they had crushes on. Then it started expanding to well…anyone. It all kind of went to the Hells, no offense, when Duke Yalmen’s youngest grandson got caught fooling around with what appeared to be Her Majesty at first glance.”

My jaw almost dislocated itself. “Oh…oh my. I never heard of this.”

“Which points to the efficacy of the clean-up,” Lord Daven muttered. “If you weren’t directly involved with the noble families involved? You heard nothing. The newspapers know, but they also know if they print anything they’ll find themselves without any offices soon enough. In the end, the only remotely productive thing to come out of it were the marriages, mostly based on which pairings had the most evidence still floating about that could possibly resurface.”

“Evidence?”

“The fox fey was either a voyeur or a blackmailer. Or both. There are pictures, and no one can be sure if all of them were found. Honestly, most of those involved got off lucky. Marriages, not disinheritances.”

“Is the fox fey still around?” I asked. 

The chance of a kitsune being behind this…I wasn’t sure. My knowledge was stories as a child, some of which had been light-hearted, others had been not. Unfortunately, the only ones who’d told me those stories were either in a coma or in this ballroom, but I could hardly ask them.

“No idea,” Daven said. “My sister and her little group have of course, stopped seeing it.”

“Ask Voltar,” Gregory said. “If anyone knows, it’s him.”

Maybe he was the Kitsune.

The same servant from before was approaching us again, and I did my best not to glower. What had happened was not even remotely their fault.

“Lord Gregory, someone is requesting you at the front door,” the servant said. “You might want to meet them before your father gets word.”

***

Out the front door, past the assorted carriages whose drivers would be inside, probably playing cards till it was time to take their charges home.

Malstein stood near a Watch carriage at the end, looking around for anyone. No one was directly by the estate, although some late-night pedestrians were looking at us, curiosity piqued. 

Satisfied there was no one close enough to overhear, Malstein turned to me.

“Someone wearing your face assaulted three members of the Watch just a few hours ago,” Malstein said.

Well, there went my reputation again.

“Well, I suppose we should have seen that coming,” I said. “I’m already the one with the record, so it would be the easiest to frame me. I’m just shocked they didn’t do more before this. I already have a new face on-”

Malstein shook his head. “You misunderstood. Someone with your current face assaulted three members of the Watch two hours ago.”

Oh. That meant a changer was among the staff. “And you know about this because?”

“Some lieutenant and a squad of Watch are currently trying to force their way past the cordon here. Someone gave a tip that you could be found here.”

“Can you stall them?” Gregory asked. 

“I can. But that was just the first group to arrive. There’s a second claiming to have a warrant from Colonel Hickens for me on charges of corruption.”

Oh, joy. “Watch politics or the Changers?”

“Changers. I know Hickens, and while we don’t see eye to eye on many things, trumped-up charges aren’t his preferred tactic. I can’t delay dealing with this any longer.”

“Appreciated, Captain.”

Malstein nodded, then turned around, heading off to the cordon.

I drummed my fingers nervously. They had the Watch distracted now, but why? Sure, they might eventually remove Malstein and his unit from keeping a loose screen around the manor, but that had never been to keep anyone out. It had been for catching anyone trying to flee when things did kick off. But they’d sent a hint that they were going to start things early off. 

It took too much time, and Malstein could likely find the real Colonel Hickensm, who presumably hadn’t signed that warrant. Or had on evidence given by someone else being impersonated. Depending on when the fake me had assaulted those Watch members

“We need to get inside and organize a search for as much of the estate as possible,” I said. “This is the time. They’ll strike soon.”

“Surely it would be easier for them to remove some of us from the estate entirely before moving?”

“Maybe, but that’s a risk. The longer it stretches on, the more chance that someone they’ve impersonated clears up the mess. And impersonating a colonel of the Watch means a lot more attention.”

Even a corrupt officer would want anyone who impersonated them taken care of just for drawing attention to them. People would be looking into anything you’d done just to try and figure out how long the impersonation had been ongoing. Then their best hope would be blaming the shapechanger for whatever did surface.

We both headed back inside to the party.

***

Going inside, the party had migrated to the tables entirely. Servers were bringing the food out, which sent the Imp jabbering inside my head. 

I ignored it as I spotted one of the servers heading back into the kitchen. Recognizing her in a server’s uniform instead of a guard took a second. But unless Calab had a twin sister, she’d just headed into the kitchen, serving tray in hand.

“Didn’t you say Calab was going to guard the room where Edward used to be?” I asked Gregory.

“Her and a couple of others. But if we have a leak in the manor staff, they’ll know that Edward is on the-“

“Not the point,” I interrupted. “How often are they being checked on? Because I swear I just saw her leaving through a door down there.”

His eyes widened.

She’d already disappeared behind the door, and we were quick to follow.

***

“Has Calab been down here recently?” Gregory asked one of the servers.

The group shook their heads.

“Could be the changer already changed,” I said.

“Could be you didn’t spot her,” Gregory replied.

“And yet I did.”

Gregory looked around, face paler than normal. “If the staff are being overworked, Father could have conceivably had some of the guards drafted to make up for the deficit. Most of them can do the job well enough to suffice.”

“While your brother is being threatened?”

Gregory hesitated. It was understandable. The alternative was not something pleasant to think about. 

“Let’s check the room where she was stationed,” I said.

She could still be alive. Conceivably. 

***

The room had changed since I’d visited. More furniture had been moved in. The bed was moved out. Now, a tea table dominated it. Cabinets were pressed up against the walls. It was empty.

I smelled blood. From the cabinet, which was maybe two foot by three. Hells. Shapechangers were strong, and if they didn’t want anyone to notice the dead…ideally, you’d have transport for the bodies, but if they were running this quick and dirty, the very temporary would do.

I opened the doors of the cabinet. Behind me came a choked gasp.

Calab had been shoved inside, bones snapped, and skin ripped to fit inside. Her eyes stared lifelessly at my own while blood pooled at the bottom, spilling out onto the floor beyond. The skin had scraped where pushed against the edges of the cabinet, shoved in with no thought or care. Just shoved inside in the hopes it would keep her hidden. A forearm snapped off at the elbow and fell out onto the carpeting.

I didn’t try any of the other ones. Gregory or someone else would know the faces. 

I just hoped the changers were still wearing those faces.

Author's Note: Normally I'd cut chapters like these in two but there wasn't really any point where I felt comfortable doing so. I should still have 55 and 56 out Wednesday/Friday respectively but depending on their length they might release slightly later in the day. Not sure yet.