“No,” I whispered, turning away from the sight. My tongue slipped out unsciously, lig some of the arterial spray off of my face. I bit down into it, holding it in pce before it could slip inside. I wiasting copper as my teeth sank in to hold the possessed appendage in pce.

  How much do you insist on mutiting yourself to avoid every bit of temptation, girl? You’ve bee even more b sitio sleep.

  I couldn’t respond, tongue filing as I held it ih my teeth. The Imp eventually let go, and I got as much blood off as I could before letting my tongue baside. My blood and the pain would feed the possessing demon, but not as much as taking in the blood of another.

  Curse you, Versalicci, for stig me with this damhing.

  When my talent for Diabolism had first emerged, there were no teachers of it. At least, that was the excuse Versalicci had given me. I’d fotten the one he’d made when Daver had shown up and done what Versalicci suggested as an alternative. A shortcut to be taken so I could do as he asked.

  Arranging my possession by the imp.

  “I’m ing human corpses for you,” I said, keeping a wary eye for any witnesses while I ed my saber.

  I’d found out early in my possession that while the Imp could intrude on my thoughts easily enough, I could only unicate by speaking out loud. My researto Diabolism since leaving had not turned up much, but I’d learned enough to know that it was not normal for possession.

  Versalicci had do on purpose. Another way to keep me deeper in his thrall.

  I walked away from the two corpses. I should have kept one alive for questioning, but waking the imp o a struggling human it could try to force me to gnaw on?

  I wasn’t being a ibal of the living or the dead.

  My stomach wrenched, and my guts felt like they were being twisted. I colpsed, trying to wretething out of ay stomach.

  “Try to do that again, and the hing down my throat will be holy water, imp. You want to risk that?” I gasped out as I got bay feet.

  The imp actually took its time to respond to that. You wouldn’t dare. I know you, Malvia Harrow and you’re hardly oo take your own life.

  “I wouldn’t o,” I said. “There was an at of experiments done a tury ba diluting holy water and measuring its effectivehat I’ve read. There’s a precise amount of dilution that would result in my survival, but you getting a lethal dose. It seems for once being only half a devil has e in handy for me.”

  A bluff. The amount of holy water mixed with regur water to kill the imp would do perma damage to my brain, body, and soul. The study had cluded that there was no ‘safe’ amount of holy water a Tiefling could imbibe, with even trace amounts leading to issues down the li had only taken a few thousa subjects.

  Memories of those results made my stomach revolt again. Dry nguage could only do so much to disguise the nature of those experiments.

  No one else had ventured into the alley yet. Whatever these two had doo ensure ay audie had dos trick. Unfortunately, it left me with a corpse to dispose of. There were other forms of magic that could have rotted off the Pure-bloods arm. I was certain that is not where the Watch’s mind would go seeing someone’s arm turo bck mush and bone. Rot still taihe edges, but that was more in lih some alchemical solutions or spells.

  It would have to do. I hardly had the time to chop the arm off.

  I took one of the Pure Blood’s coats, then gathered up as much of the rotted gunk as I could. Setting this on fire wouldn’t work and would probably spread the taint of it for miles on the back of the wind. Instead, I’d dump it in another alley.

  I poked a few more holes in each of them, aided by their own ons, which I also pocketed. Those would get dumped in the river if I could make the journey, in the underground if I could not. Blood still flowed, not as much as if they were alive, but enough to give the illusion of wounds from a fight.

  The imp’s silence faded by the time I left the alley two mier.

  Bah, leaving without taking a bite. How are you going to fuel yourself, little devil? You’ve already done such harm to your body, blinding yourself and cutting yourself off from yic so. Perhaps I should try to fix it.

  I briefly stilled but dismissed the thought of the Imp trying to ge me.

  “I’ll feed you some mb when we reach a safe pce to spend the night,” I said into the open air.

  Lamb? Bah! Barely anything in that. Get me some juicy human, raw and dripping with blood.

  “You’re not making it sound very appetizing,” I ented, walking bay inal course. Sadly, that robably the easiest versation I had with a demon. From what I’d been told at the tract signing, this imp was a favorite for learning Diabolists, meaning that it was an excellent versationalist among mortals pared to some of its kin.

  Mind you, I retty sure half of what had been told to me by Versalicci had been nothing but lies.

  Best to make myself scarce. It would be impossible for a to have heard those screams, and with people spooked from the events of today, their natural antipathy towards the watch might be wearing thin.

  For once luck shined on me and the patrol of Wat heading to the alley thought nothing of me quietly walking dowreet. I’d put the Pure-blood’s bloodied coat in my bag of belongings, and now would not be drinking from that teapot without aremely thh wash, but no oopped.

  How many years have you kept me asleep? The Imp asked in my mind. Has Versalicci takehe city?

  “No, quite the opposite. He’s lower than when he made a tract with you and me.”

  The Imp cackled inside my head.

  “You know, for some reason, I thought that would actually upset you. Hell being defied and all that.”

  Oh, that part is perhaps a little annoying, but never uimate the Devils. But it’s his arrogahat I ugh at, the boy thinking his schemes could e to success.

  “I don’t know what’s fuhe fact you call Versalicci ‘the Boy’ or that you just said that about a pn from his father.”

  Clearly, the fault lies in the boy’s execution. The Duke’s pn was undoubtedly perfed only foiled by his progeny’s failures.

  “Kiss-ass,” I muttered.

  That was a little too close to another Infernal, who gave me an offended look before increasing her pace, leaving me far behind. Well, if she thought the shoe fit her, who was I tue?

  Still, I kept my mouth sealed even as the Imp id out all the reasons inside my head how its defereo a Duke of hell differed from mog the Duke’s son.

  I’d put this thing to sleep after months of preparation, only for it all to be undone in one moment of weakness. A moment of weakhat had probably saved me from…something, and I shivered remembering how Pure-blood had put his hand on me. But now the damhing was woken up, and I doubted trickery would work a sed time to get it back asleep.

  Banishing the creature was out of the question. Ign the fact that most forms of banishment would kill me just because of my infernal blood, my soul was bound to the Hells. When my mortal form perished, I’d be heading down there, and banishments didn’t really distinguish between the possessor’s soul and the possessed.

  And to add to my pints, what have you been doing with this strange bio-magic? It practically permeates your body, rotting. You haven’t been feeding it, have you? I could dey its decay, you know. It’s all magi the end, and I am habiting your body with it. Or perhaps hasten its end.

  I shuddered. I could do without the reminders about how deeply the creature was led inside me. Or what it could do if it ever found a way tle out of the inal summoning tract.

  “You wouldn’t dare,” I muttered. We were ba the streets, and while talking to yourself would not draw much attention, my ging back would be violent enough to get everyone on this street to pay attention by the end of it.

  The imp didn’t reply, and I immediately started looking for a off of the streets.

  I found another alleyway, which artially occupied, but the three others using it huddled around the far end of the alley. Sniffing around, this end clued me into why. Someone had been smoking Hopleaf retly. With all the Watch around, no one would want the st of that drug on their clothes.

  Somerotected from the eyes and ears of bystanders, I could raise my voice just a little.

  “You ot affect the magic, Imp. You are bound by your very existeo not cause me direct harm, and ygestions tread close to that line.”

  I ’t directly choose to harm you permaly, but ging how a natural process would occur? Perhaps as a lesson in how making half-decisions is he right choice?

  Something twisted in one of my legs. I bit my too keep a yelp of pain inside as something unfurled in there, pushing against the skin.

  Damnations. My cheapness was going to be the death of me. I could not have the disguise fall apart now, not till I found my tools.

  “Imp,” I forced out even as my leg cracked, the joint popping and sending daggers of pain up my leg. “Stop, and I’ll pay ihings you love best, pain and souls.”

  Pass, the Imp said in my head, cag as my hoof slid across the ground a half-inch. Fresh keratin came forth, grinding against the stone. My bones burears welling up in my eyes. You’re already in pain. Pain that you o learn from. And you’ll o animals. I want a se soul. Devoured with the flesh.

  “There’s more pain. If this is deyed. Not allowed to unfold naturally.” I got out. “And I’ll do a dozen rats.”

  I couldn’t feel much of the demoions, but it would ponder on the offer. Had to ponder on that. Its nature was gluttony, and it was starving for years.

  Hrrm. Twenty-five rats. Uncooked. Living.

  My reply got interrupted as my veins traced lines of fire ay leg, trying te against flesh that wasn’t moving fast enough.

  “Deal,” I managed, and the pain faded. Slowly, my leg ged back, flesh pushing ba and shrinking into a more dense form, keratin f its way bato my leg. “I’ll get on it tomorrow m.”

  We didn’t agree on any time. I insist on now. There are eight in that heap of trash alone.

  ***

  By the time I stumbled into Hell’s Own, everything ached, I looked quite the mess, and I had half a dozen new scars cutting through my lips thanks to the efforts of several rats not to bee food.

  At least the blood was gohe Imp at least khe bes of keeping something of a low profile. Not enough to remove the scars so it could feast on the pain. The fur stuck between my teeth it left there because it was an ass.

  The same went for insisting I was the one eling the Diabolism so it could close up my wounds. It hurt me to use Diabolism in this body. I’d desig that way, trying to smother my affinity with the magid it would remain that way till the Sculpts reverted.

  My entrance drew attention, but not much. There were only a dozen patrons at the bar and no o all sitting at the Bck Fme’s table. A little lue.

  I walked over to the bar with as much grad dignity as I could muster with the amount of cuts on my face.

  “Tea,” I croaked out. The inside of my mouth burhe rats hadn’t gone down without a fight, and they’d cut the inside of my mouth till I lost t of how many cws ah had torn into me.

  “You have fur and blood iween your teeth,” Edwards said. “Are you alright?”

  “Not really,” I said. “Please, some tea. I’ll pay double rate food cup of it. Actually, the e, if you could spare it.”

  Edwards eyed me more than a little suspiciously. I could hardly bme him, but I knew for a fact people had e in here uranger circumstances. His curiosity shouldn’t overwhelm a professional sense of privacy.

  If it didn’t, I was hardly going to tell him I ossessed Diabolist.

  “A pot full of tea,” he called bato the kit. “And a bottle of mead, as well.”

  “No, just tea, please,” I insisted.

  “You’re bleeding on the inside of your mouth,” He stated. “You don’t need me to tell you the importance of sterilizing that.”

  “Mr. Edwards, I have my owhods of that. Now, could you please just get me some tea!”

  All the bar was staring at me now, risen up and practically yelling into the bartender’s face. My face flushed. I’d fully lost my grip on the mask, but I did my best to reassemble it.

  Assertive, The Imp hissed in my head. Of course, the wrong pce. Maybe practi someone you actually beat up. Unless you wish to use me to guide your talents again?

  “Apologies, Mr. Edwards,” I said. “I’d say it’s been a bad day, but that would just be an excuse. I leave if I’m making a se, and my apologies for that as well.”

  His eyes studied my face. I wasn’t even b with the Sculpts; I didn’t o. I didn’t o fake tiredness, regret, or shame.

  “It’s hardly the worst a er has yelled at me,” he said with forced lightness. “Still, I’d ask you don’t do it again. Just tea, then?”

  “Tea and perhaps bring the bottle. I’ll pay extra for that as well. And a meal as well, if it’s not too much to ask?”

  “The oven’s still burning. Take your pick. As long as you’re payira.”

  I could hardly say no to that as I turo look over the menu. The smell alone of cooki in the back was already making me salivate, which helped a bit with the pain.

  My stomach ached, mostly from emptiness. The Imp had ed all the rats, diabolism tearing them apart before they ever reached my stomach. I couldn’t even remember the st time I’d even had a bite of something.

  I looked at the menu. It mostly sisted of fish, the cheapest of the meats. Pork shin and cheek were just behind it, mixed in a stew. That beat out the likely tender, a watercress sandwich. But even thinking of a sent my stomato iptions almost as bad as the Imp would inflict.

  It wasn’t fair that it could both force me to e rats and make my stomach empty, and also that my stomach would revolt at the thought of eating more. I could still taste them, the fur, the blood, the raw flesh. The desperate crawling even as teeth bit down into them.

  Edward shook me out of my thoughts, setting a bottle, a teapot, and a pair of cups down in front of me.

  “Any food?”

  “Uh…” my stomach had not settled at all, nor had the temptation of cooked meat and other foods stopped calling like a siren. “Pork stew, please. Double price?”

  “It would be appreciated.”

  I ted out the s, both for that and the drink. There were two others at the bar, keeping their distaer my brief outburst, but not enough that they wouldn’t notice the type of s I utting down. It couldn’t be avoided now, partially thanks to my idiocy.

  Never yell at the staff. Edwards was beiremely tolerant of that brief outburst I’d just had. The Hells was I thinking, that wasn’t just the mask crumbling, Malvia and Katheryn both knew better than that!

  As Edwards turned around to get the soup, I grabbed the teapot. It wasn’t too warm as I poured the tea into the cup. I didn’t trust myself to try holding the cup with my hands. Wise, as I lifted it to my lips with trembling fingers.

  Small sips, letting the soothing nature of the drink slowly e over me. The gluttonous imp at least did me the favor of not drinking it in my pce. I did my best to ighe bottle that had bee aside, fog on the cup and pot.

  I couldn’t risk mead. Not with the Imp awake. The fewer levers reted to gluttony I could give it to leverage, the better. If I gave it an inch, I’d end up with five addis and a learaste for things I’d deliberately forced out of me.

  I would not be repeating that again. Ever.

  Edwards returned with a bowl of still-steaming soup, potatoes, watercress, onions, and ixed with the pork.

  Draining the cup, I set it dout another batch of s oable.

  “I need a pce to stay ht. Is there a room free?”

  “A few,” Edwards replied. “In a spot of trouble?”

  I nodded, putting another few s down. After a sed, I put down a handful more and gave Edwards a poiare. Yes, I’d caused offense, but not enough to extort me.

  “I’ll have someone show you to it soon. How much trouble should I expect to follow you?”

  How long till I ruined my standing here like everywhere else? Not long. No use hiding that.

  “Any you imagi will e.”