It was never advisable to walk the docks of Garretsville at night.

  This district had started well outside the city’s limits, a thousand years ago, but as the city had grown it had swallowed the port town. It’d kept its indepe spirit thought, which as time went o it’d bee a favorite for smugglers.

  The docks here were for bulk goods, where you’d unload and load the rgest shipments, which meant plenty of warehouses. Over time, that also meant it became a pce to load and unload traband hidden among the massive shipments and put in these oversized warehouses.

  I was keeping a wary eye out. Pure-blood rank and file had dressed like w people, and while my versation with the guild master hadn’t given me a general location for them, Lower Lit might fit that bill. An older neighborhood as well, and those collected inhabitants mistrustful of fners and other newers to the city.

  A hooded cloak and the shadows of night helped some, but aaking too close a look would tell what I was. At least I didn’t have wings.

  Mind you, I had bigger issues on my mind.

  Assuming those Wat were right, Versalicci was trading in Angel’s Sorrow, which tied him into the poisonings. Both of the pgues on my doorstep turned out not only to have the same pgue but the same source.

  Only it made no sense.

  Versalicci poisons noble children…for what reason? What did he gain out of it? He’d poison people, but only for something iurn. He gained nothing but ire if anyone discovered this, as far as I knew. Influence? Both victims so far beloo minor houses, although Montague’s records might be of i. That was a very brittle hold to put someone in, though.

  No, maybe not directly involved with the poisonings, but perhaps trading with whoever was supplying the poisons? The poison-maker did not o be the poisoner and a substahat would kill other Infernals immediately…no. Holy water would do the same trick with less expense or risk, and if he was trading in these substances, he wouldn’t have had Golvar carrying them with no escort.

  I disliked Golvar but I couldn't deny that he had been and presumably still was one of Versalicci's most trusted men. Trusted enough that he was the only one Versalicci would have carrying around Angel's Sorrow? Perhaps. By himself? No.

  A third possibility then, one I was very unfortable with. Someone was trying to make Versalicci a patsy, much like I was. And if they were attempting to cast him as the tral vilin for a frame-up job, I as the willing aplice would work. If they knew who I was.

  sidering how much rger that list was than I’d thought two days ago, there might be a det ce of that.

  For now, this was all jecture until I got my hands on any evidehe Bck Fme’s restraint till now oint in its favor, though, given how the usual respoo an exposed scheme was maximum damage and chaos to cover it up. But solid evidence would be the best firmation.

  Unfortunately, I doubted there would be any lying around where my boxes were being stored.

  It didn’t take too much walking to reach my destination, only twice meeting with other people along the retending we didn’t see each other.

  The warehouse wasn’t much to look at, a shoddily patched woodeangle perhaps five hundred feet long, with not a guard in sight. There were padlocks on the main loading doors but just a simple lo a side entrance, all of them shoddy and rusty.

  It might seem silly to be that x in security, but in a towhere were perhaps hundreds of warehouses like these? Hiding was the best solution, and I doubted anything important would be stocked ihe warehouse.

  No lockpie meant a few minutes hammering on it with the butt of my flintlock till the rusted lock fell to the ground in pieces. I went inside, opening up my ntern.

  Shelves of boxes formed a miniature maze as I weaved my way through inside. I opehe occasional one only to find cotton clothes, probably due to be shipped out. Nothing of i, and most importantly, nothing expensive enough to risk robbing, especially with how bulky the cotton garments would be to take.

  Cheap iron tools made up the tents of the other boxes. Very cheap indeed, some of the tool-heads barely attached to the wood.

  I made a circuitous route going through the warehouse, cirg tighter to where my boxes must be.

  The bit of metal rotated around the ring as I walked in a circle, pointing to the middle of ay space.

  There’s a hidden storeroom. Of course, there is. This couldn’t just be simple.

  “Imp,” I asked out loud. “Is there a spell you know for findi entrances? Preferably a fast one?”

  Do I look like a spellbook?

  “No, you don’t look like anything. You sound like someohered by the fact they have to work. My sympathies. Now, is there a diabolist spell for it?”

  There are a few you could use terally. But none you could use right now. Not without making your head pop like a grape underfoot.

  “Brilliant. Truly helpful.” I unhooked my ntern, resigning myself to searg the hard way.

  Don’t bme me for this. You’re the one who modified your own body to be as hard to el magic through as possible. You were lucky rotting that ohug’s arm off didn’t burst your own arm open.

  I ighe imp, pag around and eyeing the se of floor the tracker told me my box was. The floor looked solid, and I wouldn’t be so lucky for the entrao be right above it. I’d have to search; even worse, I’d he o check.

  The ntern would be a necessary risk. There hadn’t been a guard posted, and anyone walking by at night should not think much of seeing a light moving about inside. People w at night was on, as was the principle of minding your own business.

  Ten minutes in, as I patiently tapped stones and listeo the he Imp spoke up again.

  If only to end this tedium, a method es to mind that shouldn’t damage yourself too much were you to use it.

  “I’m listening.”

  Send out small pulses of Diabolism and seeing patterns they trace. Diabolism seeks the hells, which are below metaphorically if not physically. They will seek the easiest path through.

  Hrrm. My knowledge of Diabolism was limited, first because Versalicci wahat restricted, so bonded me to the imp to handle anything plicated he wanted, and ter because tomes on Diabolism were illegal. If I got caught with any, the gover would sentence me to death, so I’d sidered having any a risk not worth taking.

  I focused, gathering power to my fiips, wing as paihrough each bone in my hand.

  “Any dire at or just release it?”

  Are you dense? Just release it. The power by itself will do what you wish.

  If I made my tea mixtures a huh holy water, perhaps the pain and possible slow poisoning would be worth it.

  Gathering power, I pushed my fingers against the ground, letting it leech out even as I willed myself to see.

  Somethi welled up in my eyes, blood or tears I couldn’t tell.

  As the tiny bits of power let loose, my fiips split, cuts f on their ends, and blood dripping down onto the stonework. The best I could have hoped for in terms of backsh from magic flowing through veins desigo hi.

  I kept bare skin away, not wanting to risk a blemish or worse, the rot.

  Someone or something was whispering in my periphery as the bits of magic flowed over the stonework, separating into smaller pieces, each seeking a path. I tu out. Even if the Diabolism had actally ected to an actual demon or devil, it would fade swiftly.

  All Diabolism had risks, but you could t on the smaller efforts to have the least effects.

  Loose bits rolled around on the floor, fring red as they searched for cracks or seams. I followed them aually stared at the square they’d outlined oone floor before moving through those cracks to the underground.

  It took time and a couple of borrowed tools, but I mao get a hook underh the hidden trapdoor, f it open. Wooden steps desded into a well-lit room no bigger than a study. Shelves fnked a single desk.

  I eyed the tents with i as I pulled my trag charm out again. The desk itself had papers and books piled on it, and pulling out drawers revealed even more books. There were six shelves in total, each carrying a differe of items.

  On the upper right was my box, only one of them, the shelf’s sole oct.

  Damnations. The possibility I’d only find the one was always there. I grabbed it swiftly, opening it up. Picks, the first I’d ever used. Various little tris and tokens. There was the first I’d pickpocketed. My mother’s wedding ring, which was more preserved for her than I. Versalicci’s token. I put the lid back quickly, moving it to one of the two bags on my back.

  Now that was secure, it was time to see what I could rob from my adversaries.

  The shelf below tained ons, mostly an assortment of daggers with inid glyphs, but one saber glowing faintly, runes cut into its side. A pair of revolvers as well, a variety of ammunition with the tips in different colors sorted o them. Alchemical rounds.

  The bottom shelf held the preserved corpse of something. It resembled a giant leech, and I cautiously prodded it with the toe of my boot. ion, and I scraped the tip of my boot on the wall quickly.

  Well, even so, taking a skin sample robably a step too far in risking it being asleep. I turo the other shelf.

  The top yer was a colle of rocks that drew my eye. I forced myself to see again, but nothing about them appeared magical at all. Strange.

  The middle shelf had sets of clothing, each with a bundle of papers on top. Cheg them, they were various forms and such for people. Lises, registrations, other such proofs of identity.

  Damnations, I should have used my fed lise at St. Lanian!

  I dismissed that remembered too-te fact as I moved on to the st shelf.

  The st shelf was filled with alchemical vials, a variety of liquids of differing colors. I looked closer at some of the clearer-looking ones. While it obviously wasn’t being produced here, if any of those were Angel’s Sorrow, it would ect this pce for certain to the poisoners.

  If they wao steal from me, then turnabout would be fair py. As many of the papers as I could gather off the desk went into one bag, along with several of the books I could identify as alchemical texts.

  I carefully transferred the clearer liquids to my ow of vials, which I kept in a waist pouot trusting any of the ones in here. It was difficult to both put a tracker in the gss and also to hide it, but not impossible.

  I left the various ons alone for the same reason. The revolvers and the rune-engraved saber were both tempting, but I didn’t have an easy method to check for tracers on me. My tool for that y with other belongings I hadn’t even risked being in my apartment. Niche use tools that were illegal but whose use wasn’t universal or needed enough for me to justify keeping under my floorboards.

  The books were a rge enough risk for my taste.

  There was the set of snuffboxes among the fake identities, which I left aloe the Imp’s urgings. The popurity use among nobles and the amount of narcotics that specifically weren’t banned because of their efforts. That meant anything in those boxes would be powerful enough not to risk exposure.

  Instead, I settled for the rocks. Clearly, there was something strange about them, and they’d be the least likely to have tracers. They ended up filling much of the sed bag, leaving no space left. I could shove more in at the risk of my mobility, but I fit a pair of tomes on top.

  So, burn down what I hadn’t pocketed or leave it be?

  Actually, not burning, but some matter of destruight be called for. o risk a fire spreading, especially with the unknown nature of these alchemical substances.

  But my box missing would be a sign someone had found their little secret ste spot. And there was a thick stone floor between this pd the warehouse proper.

  I grabbed a bundle of papers from the desk and looked them over quickly to ascertain if I should bring them with me. More lises for trade, aire stack of them under different names. Who his many fake identities?

  I lit their ers with my ntern and tossed them on the desk, quickly moving as papers caught alight.

  It took only a moment to shut the hidden trapdoor as heat blew out of the burni room. I took a moment to breathe, then moved towards my exit.

  Only the sound of the door opening interrupted me. I hooded my ntern and crept by one of the shelves, trying to get a look through the empty gaps in the shelving.

  “What foul wretch has intruded into my warehouse?

  A lone figure ehe warehouse, ntern in hand illuminating the interior. He was tall, slim, red-haired, and freckled. He could not look more Keltish.

  Most importantly, he had metal threads in his clothing. Silver in the m coat, gold in the waistcoat.

  Looks like my business here wasn’t done.