Today was a day of staying indoors.

  The st three days had been nothing but that, and I wished I could pretend it was simply me preparing for the uping infiltration of the Archives.

  It wasn’t. There’d been no marches in the Infernal Quarter sihe day of the bombings. Instead, there were neer articles about the bombings and thetacks’ that followed. Some had the deention who had provoked them, but still, remembering one.

  The frightened members of the Society for Recmation of the Infernal Quarter shed out as only might be expected of a group of people utack. It is entirely possible that some of those residents attacked may have simply been minding their own business, but one must wonder why i citizens would be wandering oreets iermath of the attack.

  I doubted how many had been ‘wandering the streets’, but arguing against an inanimate piece of paper was the height of foolishness. The first day, I’d been worried, having made it out of the Quarter and made it back here. Varrow had insisted on going to secure his meager belongings.

  I hadn’t seen him since, and after walking dowreet had gotten enough murderous looks and at least one persardih a cealed on, I’d headed back. Reag the Quarter without i seemed…impossible. So I holed up in my e.

  On the sed day I realized I didn’t o worry. I’d made a -cut break, an escape until the current situation with Voltar, Dawes, and Imperial Intelligence resolved itself. I no longer o worry about the kind of things that mattered to your average Infernal at all. At least not to the same extent. Sure, wandering outside had its risks, but I wasn’t likely to face the same sequences as anyone in the quarter.

  I’d felt sick for a while after that realization.

  That was something to figure out an answer for ter, though. Today was a day for preparations. Tomorrow was the pnned infiltration of the archives. ‘Pnned’ in a loose sense. I had my pn. Dawes and Tagashin had added to it and had their opinions, but both agreed to py along. The Montague’s had a broad idea that would be filled out more tomorrow.

  We’d only had time for one more meetiween us, so filling them in on all the pns proved a bit difficult. But we’d had enough to put together a pn that felt more than a cept. Maybe not as filled out as I’d liked, but not barebones.

  I’d found out what Gregory meant by his father refiguring the archives during my discussion with him and Elise. I’d assumed it was rearranging the Archives by magic. I’d been half-right.

  Meisms, crude ones by modern standards, although her of them had been very detailed about them. Whether because they didn’t want to trust me with those secrets or because they had no idea themselves I didn’t know. For my immediate s, it didn’t matter too much. The meisms could only rotate and ge the positions of ses of the archive, not individual bookshelves. The bookshelves around the administrator offices would remain the same, as would the offices themselves.

  They could have been mranur with what could be ged if they went fic. But magic could be exploited, used as a guide if you were of the right disciplines and eveo seize trol away. So the meisms were to them a good trade off.

  Hopefully, those descriptions of the se with the Archive offices would be enough. Guard patrols, I’d have to rely on enhang my hearing once again and a few other biosculpted tricks of the trade. Alchemicals would be detected, and while I was a det Biosculpt to make myself into a chameleon…Well, I ted myself lucky that my st attempt was simply embarrassing instead of horrific.

  Of course, the main effort was going to be making myself look like something besides an Infernal.

  This…I’d do a few times before. Unsurprisingly, making yourself look like a human had many advantages fang of Infernals pretending to be a revolutiroup. That didn’t make it easy or quick to do.

  Up in my attic apartment, I looked at myself in the mirror, then the picture I was going to use as a refere was only a refere wouldn’t do to resemble someone else too much. Although I doubted this random girl from Illtaea would be in the archives.

  Is this really necessary? The Imp asked in my head.

  I paused, Biosculpting on the verge of being called.

  “Not sure what you mean by that,” I said. “Even if you don’t have a particur i, I want in those archives, and Lord Montague would not be allowing an Infernal inside, especially at a time like this. So, a disguise is needed, and the best I manage.”

  Diabolism could get you ihe Imp said. There are ways. If only you would practice.

  That...was fair. After the party, I’d still failed to find time to keep up that promise to the Imp.

  “I’ll admit I could have freed up more time,” I said. “Things move so fast. But still, the Archives have ways to detect magic. Do you have ways to disguise Diabolism to bypass those?”

  Yes

  “And even if I had dedicated every waking moment to fulfilling that promise, would you have been able to teach them to me before now?”

  A pause before a relut No from the Imp.

  “Then I think that ahat,” I said. “Something to discuss more of iure though. Versalicci just used warding to keep pces free to practice Diabolism in without risk of dete. This would be the spells themselves?”

  Yes, The imp replied. He preferred the wards because he had more trol over them. o advahe Diabolism of underlings he may not trust. Your half-brother is a bundle of paranoia and fear most unbeing.

  I snorted. “Ah, because the ranks of the Hells surely must trust each other. Imp, spare me the obvious falsehoods.”

  There is a differeween caution and craveness. There is a differeween taking a risk for victory and running away when the die is cast.

  I frowned, feeling a definite barb in that st one.

  “Irritated that I fled Ureet?” I mused. “Because that st os me more than it does Giovanni.”

  There is no use staying on an already sunk ship. The decision that ehose efforts was made far before you decided to flee and his decision to strip you of allies. Very poorly, given three live but-

  “Shut it,” I hissed at the Imp. “Do you think I haven’t thought about how many of them died in those opening days? Those people are dead and buried and leave them-”

  My words caught out as my mind caught up. Three live. Arseolman.

  “Who?”

  Who? The Imp repeated back.

  “Don’t mimic me. You said three lived. I know of two. Who is the third, and how do you know?”

  Actually attend a lesson, and perhaps you’ll find out.

  I growled but didn’t respond immediately.

  The Imp had decided to mentiohird for a reason. Another carrot, probably because I hadn’t had a session with it yet. The question is was it telling the truth and how could it know if it did?

  There were some names I could cross off the list for certain. I’d seen and been forced to cut open the bodies myself, something that had me choking on my own bile every time I’d mao get out of sight. Others I’d merely seen the end of, so some could ceivably-

  No. Focus on the here and now. This could be solved at aime. Another pht now when I needed focus. And perhaps pursuing a part of the versation we’d skipped over.

  “You seem rather dismissive of his efforts, sidering how close he came,” I said. “He almost had this city in his hands.”

  It was a fragile hold, The Imp replied, seemingly just as eager to get off the hint it had dropped. Destroyed the moment it was brought into the light.

  “He got closer than most,” I said. “I could hardly call myself his biggest fan of course, but I’d say he’s e the closest to Her Most Profane Majesty.”

  He doesn’t even hold a dle. She trolled this kingdom, ruled it, fh on forty years. He could barely rule a city from the shadows for a year.

  “She fell too,” I said. “Isn’t that what always happens with the Hells, Imp? You reach, you grasp, you lose. Story of the Hells, over and ain, unto the end of time. Leaving everyone else to pick up your messes.”

  Leaving Infernals to suffer in your pce.

  Iing. Is that your main obje? That we never win?

  I frowned. “Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve read what Her Most Profane Majesty have gotten up to. What devils have gotten up to.”

  If you think that’s all devils are, I lower my opinion of your fool of a brother even lower. Somehow, there is still space for it to sink.

  “That I’ll agree on,” I replied. “You hardly say you’ve had the best retions with those above.”

  Better than you might think. sider who writes those books, and sider the Unholy Union only happened because they invaded first.

  The unholy union refers to the marriage that had produced Her Most Profane Majesty, held after that failed invasion of the Hells. He wasn’t wrong.

  “I’ll not lie. It’s been an iing discussion,” I said. “But I do o focus on this. If you wouldn’t mind?”

  It is more likely that Fey thing the mortals foolishly think they have shackled will end up messing up your efforts than I, but I will be silent.

  N, but I’d locked the trapdoor for now and if Tagashin wao force the issue she’d find a few surprises trying to make her way inside. I turo the mirror, putting a hand on my face as I reached fic.

  A quice around the room for spirits- a few wisps either attracted or jured by emotion, keeping a healthy distahey likely detected the Imp, and even as small and incapable of plex thought as they were, they ko avoid its presence.

  There were a few different ways to handle excess tissue left over at the end of bio-sculpting. One was to store it, typically in an air-sealed tainer, and hide it away till you again. Temperature trolled, other things that needed magic te the gaps in order to keep it actually living tissue. as well, or at least as as could be managed. An alchemical solution typically manages all of these issues. It solved the iproblem simply aly; just keep it there till you o return to your base form and theegrate it into yourself.

  Spare flesh and tissue was actually a thriving market, especially for people who wanted more flesh added to themselves. However one should never ask too many questions about how those materials were sourced.

  Of course, the most signifit problem with this method when you are altering yourself is if your Sculpt got disrupted. Only other bio-sculptors could do it, but the effects of your body trying to return to its baseline form without the required parts were horrible. If you’d removed only a small part of yourself, it typically wasn’t that bad. Still, if you’d removed major parts and the magic started trying to spread what was left of your body to fill in those holes, moving tissue and ans without care to try aurn you to your baseline form, death might be one of the luckier results.

  I preferred the seethod, which was just iing the tissue inside yourself in one way or another. Messing around with densities took longer and was more challenging, but ultimately safer. And my questions to the Montagues had indicated the cast wouldn’t be searched.

  First things first. I grabbed a bag from the table and hooked it up to a needle. Affixing it to my vein took a few seds, and then a while longer for the numbing effects of the moprhio ki.

  It was necessary to keep the pain down for full body adjustments, but I’d o be careful. I’d seen this cim too many lives after helping to save them. I couldn't directly trol the morphine's flow ohey were inside my bloodstream, just influe to aent by where the blood flowed. I hooked the bag up to an overhead hook, letting gravity pull It into my veins.

  The horns were first to be physically adjusted, and I grabbed the left oh my hand and pushed against it. The horn pacted in, spreading out above the skin as I forced it into a cube of keratin poking out. The part below my skin remaihe same, I was just making the horns easier to manipute with Biosculpting. Haviin push against skin and tissue while modifying the tter so they didn’t rip was the opposite of that.

  The horns spread further, and more and more came into tact with my skin. It would give me a rger surface area to work with once I started transferring the keratin surrounding the live bone f the core of my horns. O was all transferred, I’d manipute my boructure directly to handle what was left.

  It was amusing thinking of this versus the public perception of Biosculpting. I couldn’t just push my horns inside my skull, they were bone, I’d o sever them first then move the internals of my head out of the way, sink the horns inside, and then whittle them down much like I was already doing. So much work to make one part of the process a little faster, with that other work easily doubling the time taken.

  Meanwhile, in a novel I’d been reended about a highly respected human doctor who used Biosculpting to turn into an Infernal in order to indulge his ‘base pleasures’, something he found easier to do both because of his new mask of anatomy and the ‘profaure of his new body’. Whenever he wao ge back, just push the horns in, no care for dispced mass or biology or even the fact Biosculpting couldn’t ge species.

  Holy, the only thing more disappointing about that novel besides the bad sd racism was the fact it had never goo aail about what those ‘base urges’ were.

  Not that I was ied in things like that, of course. Some detail would have been nice is all. For….text.

  Besides, your tastes run more to those romanovels you read, don’t they?

  I opened my mouth to snap back at the imp, only to realize that had been my own thoughts. I didn’t know which possibility was more disturbing, that I’d begun thinking of its response eve wasn’t talking, or that even my own brain was starting to tease me over my fantasies.

  The keratin was absorbed a around my arm boo help reinforce them a little. Some to my legs, spread it all ay body and pack it tightly so the effects wouldn’t be apparent on my figure. I didn’t have so much time that I could alter density too much, and I’d go for a shorter height and broader frame.

  Before I started shortening all my bones, first, the ohat weren’t going to be needed as part of the disguise. The bones of my horns sank into my skull, pag and joining the bones of my head, thiing them. The sensation of them pushing against the skin wasn’t pleasant, but I’d also have some of that to spread around.

  My tail began to shrink, practically shriveling as I forced cells from it inside me. Bone pressing, muscle and fat being sucked in. Skin grew loose as the tents went inside me, being spread around so I didn’t ee in one part of my body. The tail’s skin shriveled as it was drawn inside.

  Internal bones were pacted just a little at a time, a careful bang act of redug without causing my body to colpse in on myself. Then w on skin, ging the color throughout it.

  Keratin from my hoof went up my leg, joining the other stores as I sculpted the flesh left behind, f it to grow out, redireg bone from my horns and tail down there, nerves growing as wriggling toes poked their way into aehe rest of my legs needed more work as well, adjustment to bend the other way as well.

  I’d dohis before, but every time, it felt strange, having these wriggling stubby fingers at the end of my leg. What are you even for?

  I wouldn’t be making myself human, not truly. There were differe a geic level that nobody yet had the skill to fully alter without a result of death. What I would be doing is hiding the more obvious signs. Sinkiin into flesh and spreading it out throughout my body. Adjusting menin to a human tohe hooves would be a more difficult adjustment. I wouldn’t be reag inside my still injured leg, and we’d be relying on other ways to keep that hidden from pin sight and examination. Paint, a prosthetid long clothing would have to suffice. I’d work on a variety of substahat should join all those together seamlessly to the naked eye. Acc to the Montague’s, that should be the morous method of examining my leg for the first yer of the Archives.

  Minor details now. Sculpting the flesh around my ears, f it to be rounded. My eyes itched as I adjusted color and structure. Fingers softened, being more fleshy with each sed. My teeth cracked as I forcibly adjusted structures, fttening and pag. Tiny adjustments made their effects known as I kept at each, carefully removing and reshaping tissue, aributing the excess.

  I looked at my fa the mirror. Skin a light brown, no horns, no pointed ears, the small pattern of scales faded pletely into new flesh, eyes a simple green, hair a pin brown. It wasn’t hard to picture this is what I would have looked like if I’d been born human. I hesitantly smiled, only a few poieeth in my mouth, h the same sharpness as my hell-giveh. I brushed my cheek with a soft finger. It felt…softer than usual, not quite as slio slight scales to brush over.

  If my mother had not gotten involved with a duke of hell, well I wouldn’t be alive, but if I’d been just from a marriage with another human, or even a raot tainted by the diabolic, would life have been easier?

  Probably. Diabolism was the reason we’d been forced from the family home and had been the reason for most everything sihen. For why I was holed up in this house. For why I was doing this, to begin with. If I’d been born without it, if I’d been born looking like this instead, would I?

  I shook my head, trying to chase that thought from my mind. It wasn’t worthwhile dwelling on hands dealt. As I’d told the Imp, I o focus on this instead.

  The hard part was over now that the keratin read, menin adjusted, teeth refit, and all the other details. I itched all over and everythi wrong, especially the y teeth as I closed my mouth. Still, it's time to manipute the flesh once again.

  Going in as the human version of mys-as a human who looked like me would be enough to raise arm bells. And simir for anyone looking like Sister Danielle Waters and Katheryn Fara.

  The photograph was su excellent aid for that. It's more perfect than an artist’s sketd widespread enough that you could get ones of more than just the most famous people. In this case, a neer article from six months back about the floodiated most of Illtaea. If anyone remembered the young farmer’s daughter, it would be as a distant memory hard to pce. And if anyone had a good recall, that was what the alteration of facial features and artificial aging would be for.

  Artificial aging only. Aging cells and ans was something you couldn’t take back. etic ges only to put me, or the Iltaian girl, well into middle age.

  I looked outside to see the sun already past noon and well on its way to evening. My stomach suddenly growled from ing and the energy I’d ed doing this. When had so much time-?

  Well, it just went to show how mue could get lost. I got off the stool, muscles protesting as I got onto the unsteady foot and hoof. I unhooked the bag of morphine, hoping the numbing effect would st long enough to get a bit to eat.

  After that, it would be time to finish the disguise, sleep, and prepare for tomorrow.