Infernal Investigations

It didn’t take long for the screaming to start.

Whatever lull had occurred in the immediate aftermath of the first explosion had ended before I even made it a hundred feet. A few isolated voices shrieking sorrow turned into a deluge that joined the ringing in my ears. For the next dozen feet, I limped. The dominant tone of that was sorrow, but it turned swiftly to anger and only grew in volume.

If the other bombings had been as blatant as the one I’d witnessed, hundreds if not thousands of people who’d marched in here as a show of force against Infernals had just seen Infernals drive exploding wagons into their midst.

Varrow had slowed enough I could catch up with him, a kindness I didn’t really expect. Expecting more payment in the future? Or maybe just because I was the only person who was treating his lungs?

“I don’t think I’m making it out of the Quarter on time,” I said in between gulps of air as I moved forward as fast as I could, each impact of my hoof on the dirt a lance of pain up my leg. “How well do you think your house could stand up a mob?”

“Not well,” Varrow said, looking behind us. “If we had more people with us, maybe, but just the two of us? Maybe if you’d be willing to keep the worst of it at bay with the devil magic.”

We hadn’t even made it to the next intersection yet. Not good. I couldn’t really go any faster, I was already risking my leg hitting the ground wrong and collapsing to the ground as is.

“I think even with my new acquaintances, spraying diabolism all over citizens of the empire is likely to end with my head in a noose or being separated from my body with an axe. Also the last thing this Quarter needs is another fire. Why do we insist on making everything out of wood?”

“It’s cheap.”

Fair enough.

“Hells’ Own?” I suggested. “We’d have to cut back across the street, but it’s stone, it’ll have staff there, plus whoever else was already there drinking to block out those voices from the sky.”

“Not a bad suggestion,” Varrow said. “One problem. Doesn’t Edwards want you dead? And he’s friendlier with me in the sense he’ll just throw me out.”

Oh. Yes, wearing this face around Edwards was not a good idea.

“He lets Black Flame inside his bar,” I protested weakly.

“Because he’s not going to fight Versalicci,” Varrow said. “No leadership, and no one he might hold a grudge against. Which includes you for what I heard was a very good reason.”

I sighed. Okay, he wasn’t wrong, but it had been Skall that had started it, and I’d only gotten involved when they’d started trying to kill her, and in my defense we hadn’t succeeded in burning down the bar for what would have been its fifth time.

“Let’s see about getting there first. Because I’d rather take Edwards over any of those marchers.”

***

A trick you picked up if survived any of the Quarter’s big riots: if you heard noise from someplace, never head there. Noise typically meant fighting, or at least people, and just because the noise stopped didn’t mean those people went away.

It wasn’t much protection. Riots got chaotic and chaos meant it would spring up from a different street. But so far the screaming seemed to not spread out of it’s initial locations as we made it to the Hell’s Own.

We’d encountered remarkably few people on our way here. Far too few in fact. The lack of Infernals was understandable, they’d be hiding inside whatever shelter they could find if they knew what was good. Where were the marchers though? We’d crossed the street a while back, not a sign of any anti-Infernal protesters. Had the bombs scared them out of the Quarter entirely, or had they scattered themselves too thin throughout?

I should learn to keep my thoughts quiet.

"There they are!"

I didn't want to guess who the 'they' was, instead ignoring the pain in my leg as I hurried. Hell's Own was across the road, I could see it in the distance, figures on the rooftop yelling at us to hurry.

Varrow shot past me, having the benefit of having a functioning leg. I hobbled behind, hearing yelled slurs and the sound of boot leather slapping stone.

Something hit my back, hard and between the shoulders. I toppled down, pulling on Diabolism. Damnations, this would not look good, but better alive and a wanted murderer than dead.

I turned on my back, a stampede of citizenry before me. No, talking would not work. Instead all would need to burn.

A rifle shot rang out, flakes of stone flying up between me and the crowd where the bullet struck.

"Want to keep your life, go somewhere else," an Infernal on top of the tavern called out. Three others were waiting with rifles.

The crowd scattered like rats back across the street, away from the rifle barrels. No one wanted to risk being the one to die it seemed.

A cinder-block lay next to me and I kicked it with my non-broken hoof.

"Better come inside," one of the rooftop sentries yelled down to me. "Don't know how long bullets will keep that lot gone. Better make it into sanctuary fast."

A fair point, as I picked myself up and headed inside.

Inside, the greeting was colder.

“Harrow,” Edwards hissed, leveling the shotgun at my face. “And Varrow as well. What gods be damned pit did you crawl out of? You bring your psychotic girlfriend with you?”

“I’m not with he-” Varrow started.

“Shut up!”

“Edwards,” I replied even as others cautiously leveled guns at me, most of them seeming a little shocked at the bartender’s vehement dislike for me. Apparently being out of circulation for five years had degraded my reputation some. The Black Flame members were all aiming without hesitancy though. Something to keep in mind. “I’ve been active for near two weeks now, so don’t act so shocked I’m back. If you have an issue with me being back in the city, take it up with Mr. Voltar. He’s the one who arranged my return after all.”

That name got more of a reaction from the assorted patrons as whispers picked up and guns wavered more.

“Voltar,” Edwards noted with distaste in his mouth. “You’re mixed up with that mess involving Katheryn Falara and those poisoned nobles.”

“Yes, brought in for that,” I replied. “Since you were wondering where my ‘psychotic girlfriend’ is, well first we stopped being that a long time ago, and second she’s been one of your patrons for many years at this point.”

“I know,” he snapped. “She’s apparently improved her attitude over the years, somehow. Probably mellowed out after being separated from you. What are you doing here?”

I didn’t know which to be more offended by: Skall getting credit for something involving me or Edwards thinking I’d been the one spurring Skall.

“Willing to offer my services, in return for shelter,” I said. “If you don’t want them, I’m happy to find another place to hole up tonight.”

“None of that gas you used on the One-horns,” Edwards warned me.

I bit down on a protest that I hadn’t used the gas; I’d just made it for Gio, and he’d been the one to order its use. It wasn’t even that deadly compared to some of the mixtures Her Majesty’s Army used on the battlefield. Sure, I wouldn’t wish to literally puke your guts out on most, but to pretend the One-Horns had been innocent wasn’t remotely true.

“Don’t listen to her, Edwards,” one of the Black Flame said, keeping a gun trained on me. “She’s not part of the gang any longer. You don’t owe her anything from that.”

I tried to keep a growing grin under control. Not the right move.

“Are you saying if she were, I’d owe her for that?” Edwards snapped at the Black Flame member, eyes turning to him instead. Another one I didn’t recognize.

He sputtered, realizing how little he and his group were among all the others.

Cowed, the Black Flame faltered back, while Edwards came over, shotgun still carefully aimed my way.

“Don’t make me regret this,” he warned me. “I’m counting on you being dangerous even with one of your legs broke.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” I assured him. “Those marchers try to get into your establishment, they’ll wish they hadn’t.”

***

Three hours later, I hadn’t had to back up those words. And looking down below, it didn’t seem I would need to.

Well, the Marchers had finally turned up. Some of them. Being escorted by the Watch, and looking far worse for wear. I looked down, watching as they trundled past, wounds on display. Mostly bruises and broken bones, but quite a few had bandaged cuts and improvised splints much like my own. Forty being escorted by an eighth of their number in Watch Officers.

“Well, that was anti-climatic,” Varrow noted beside me.

“I overestimated it,” I admitted. “It makes sense. They came for a march, not for a war. Once the anger wore off and it became clear people were willing to fight back, the fight in them died. I figured more of the Watch would side with them as well. Although if you mean Edwards, I didn’t think it would go anywhere. He wants to keep his patrons safe. Having me as a deterrent helps with that.”

“Makes you wonder,” Varrow said. “Wanting to keep riots from breaking out in the Quarter again. Even if the higher ups believes all this stuff involving Changers and such, why not let us be scapegoats?”

“More fodder for the battlefields?” I questioned. “The Quarter’s been drained dry when pickpockets like yourself can find houses to hole up in, no offense.”

“Oi, I stole the deed to that, so it is legally mine. Assuming the owner never comes back.”

“Kind of my point. I’d have to see how many of other groups are left in the city as well, but it might be that they don’t want any deaths. The latest wars are over; now it’s time for a lull while they wait for numbers to build back up. Automatons are suddenly getting a lot more funding that they used to. You should see those buildings they’re putting up in the Ironworks. Fewer workers in the factories, more for the battlefields.”

“They could just hire Infernals,” Gio noted. “Owners throw a fit, so do the other workers but-”

“Again, that’s my point. We were the ones to fill out the ranks for the army because we weren’t doing much else. For this transitory period, we still are, so no more burning down the Quarter until they’ve got new pools to tap. Once these automatons are doing the jobs of the common laborer, they’ll have those pools. Which, of course, makes me wonder what happens to us then?”

Silence came for a bit, not leaving as both Varrow and I pensively looked down at the departing marchers. Most of them were gone now, letting themselves be herded away by the Watch, shying away from the Infernals who’s entered the street. No weapons visible on either side now, but I had no doubt any Infernal willing to walk onto the street’s at this point had something sharp squirreled away.

The main damage had been done. A whole host of people would come out of here with stories about Infernals bombing them then attacking them. Any aggression on their part would be forgotten by them and spread as little as possible outside the Quarter. They’d return home to families and tell stories of those horrific Infernals who bombed them and then tried to massacre the survivors.

“Depressing bit of thought,” Varrow said finally.

“It’s just a theory,” I replied. “I might be reading too much into things. It could just be they’re worried about a riot or fire spreading beyond the corner. Could these Marchers forcing them to screen their entire route multiple days in a row have irritated your average watch officer? It could be a few dozen other things. A better question is, why do this? Changers or Versalicci. It’s an escalation.”

The party had been one, but not to such an extent as this. Two different goals were being pursued from their side. Inflaming tensions between Infernals and the rest of the city and whatever they wanted from Lord Montague. There didn’t seem to be a way for those two goals to coincide.

Well, hopefully, I’d know for sure soon enough. Breaking into the archives could come soon.