Concealing Evidence

“And if you have any further concerns, please let us know, and we’ll be happy to assist.”

It had been most of a week since I’d had to explain how the hell Frank found himself unconscious in my house. I’d called Sarah and the police and explained everything in a frantic, teary panic.

I’d spent two days back in a cell because they were pretty sure I’d lured him to my house to try to kill him or something. Revenge for Raspe, maybe? But Sarah took me seriously, and when the Liberationist hideout had turned out to be just where I said it was, with a now-empty Godbox and all, they’d let me go with apologies.

“You’re sure you can’t do anything? It’s such a- well, this is the third time this has happened now…”

The officer in front of me was an older fellow. He looked embarrassed to be here, clearly sympathetic and, if I wasn’t projecting, ashamed he couldn’t lend a hand. Orders from on high, probably. He removed his officer’s cap in an apologetic gesture.

“If you can get us evidence about who it was what did it, then we can put them in the nick, but otherwise…”

“It’s been three days in a row! Just- post a guard or something? Somebody to watch, maybe?” I stared down at the shattered remains of my kitchen window. We both stood there looking. It had been a break in. Every drawer in the house had been opened, pillows upturned.

“Waste of resources, and with nothing having been taken… you got any idea why somebody might be doing this?”

“Trying to scare me? Liberationists maybe, mad about…”

I didn’t actually think that was it. I knew just why they were doing all this, even if I didn’t know who. They’d been getting increasingly desperate, this time some of my floodboards had been pulled up, one of my cabinets smashed, probably suspecting a hidden bottom or something.

Nothing I could tell the police, though.

“I’m really sorry, Miss. If anything else happens, don’t be afraid to give us a call, okay? And, uh, if you don’t mind me saying… might be worth keeping a little something under your pillow, no? In case they come in whilst you’re sleeping next time. A lady can’t be too safe, all alone in a house like this…”

My skin crawled at the implication. Even knowing this wasn’t about that, I wondered if he didn’t have a point.

Something to think about, if it came to it. Wasn’t like having a weapon to hand wouldn’t help ward off the home invader regardless of their intentions. And things had been getting more dangerous for me lately.

I didn’t even bother putting everything back like I’d found it. I swept up the glass and got the kitchen back into a good state, once the officer had left of course. I put one pillow back onto my sofa and went through my mail.

That was another thing that had been happening the last few days. Taking my mail used to be a simple routine. Bill, bill, bill, scam, political flier, bill…

Now it was different.

“Legal threat, legal threat… bill, legal threat… political flier, legal…”

I discarded most of them. They were from a variety of sources, and whilst the first wave of them had scared me enough I’d been nearly hysterical, now I was just kind of numb to them. I knew what most of them said anyway. Frank’s team threatening to countersue for assault, the company that owned the ‘abandoned’ Liberationist bar accusing me of breaking and entering, probably as a Liberationist front organization.

And one from Bishop Irons.

I put the rest to the side and took that one with me through to the kitchen, opened up the freezer. It had been thrown open too and the insides had thawed, melted all over my floor, so the contents were warm.

I took out a beer bottle anyway and took a long, long drink.

Warm beer in the summer heat. Probably the worst crime that had been inflicted on me today.

I took the drink and the letter upstairs. I wasn’t drunk, not by a long shot, but tipsy enough to take the harsh edge off the anxiety and frustration. I went into my bedroom and cleared the clock off my bedside table.

I rapped a knuckle against it. Shave-and-a-haircut, two bits.

A sphere of warped space appeared just above the table, with a bright shining core the size of, well, a marble. Like a rubber band snapping back, the outside of the sphere shrank and the tiny core expanded until they’d practically swapped places.

And then standing there was Our Lady of the Infinite Regress.

She always appeared a little above the table and landed on it with a thunk, probably didn’t want to warp it out of shape.

“It’s another letter accusing me of concealing evidence.” I laid it down in front of the idol. I had no clue if she could actually read any of these, but I did it anyway. “Stern warning of punishment, ensure you have told the courts everything they need to know… veiled threats, they don’t have proof of shit, but…” But they clearly knew. Everybody apparently knew, somehow. Knew I hadn’t actually handed Our Lady over, knew that the Godbox retrieved from the Liberationist stronghold was incomplete. Knew I was lying when I told them I had no clue how it worked, or where the god that Frank’s confession had insisted was inside had gone.

“You, uh, you got anything to say about that?”

The idol pulsed a faint red glow. It was inhabited, just… silent.

It hadn’t said a word during my escape from the abandoned bar, and it hadn’t said a word since, either.

“Nothing. You have no opinions on my keeping evidence from the police? Do you reckon I ought to listen to the letter?” I paused to give at least a chance to answer. Nothing. “Keep hiding you?” Still silence. It was like talking to a brick wall. I sipped from the beer bottle again. Tried to ride the buzz, breathe steady.

“Look, I owe you… a lot. You saved me. Saved my life, and man, I never expected to even be risking it. But I can’t… I can’t keep doing this without you even talking to me. Give me something to tell me this is what you want, or don’t want, or-”

Wouldn’t you know it? No reply. I had a sudden, burning urge to dash the idol against the floor, but those carved, tear-streaked eyes stared back at me, glowing faintly.

She really had saved me.

“Fine. Keep your silence. See if I care. I’ll just…” One last swig. The bottle was only about a third empty now, but I didn’t feel inclined to finish it. This was a bad evening to get smashed, when somebody could come breaking in here again whilst I was inebriated. “...I’ll just handle things myself, huh? Try not to get arrested or… stabbed. Again.”

My side ached as I sat myself down on the bed. Getting thrown against the wall really had broken one of my ribs, the medic had told me it was repairing but it made most activities… strenuous, whilst it healed. My body had been a black mess of bruises from the neck down by the time Lady Regress had teleported me home from the bar, too.

I laid myself down. I’d had a long day, a stressful one. It was still light out, but in the height of summer it was going to stay light until pretty late, it was already well into the evening at any rate. It had been a bright, cloudless day for once, latest of a couple in a row, a rarity for Eccless.

I pulled a curtain closed.

“Let me know when you’re ready to talk. Or even if you can’t talk… when you’re ready to tell me if you even actually want to be here, or somewhere else entirely.”

Her eyes were the only light in the room as I passed out to sleep.

And still, she didn’t tell me a damned thing.

I hadn’t entirely abandoned my other projects, in the intervening days.

It was mid-morning, a weekend. I’d cleared off one of the tables in my front-room and started using it for experimentation, instead.

I still had the little idol I’d carved from scrimshaw, the one of the Godbox. Having the thing felt almost redundant at this point, honestly, given I had the real thing in hand. I’d sat Our Lady of the Infinite Regress down next to it, spent some time pondering them both.

“It’s technically an idol to you too, right? Feel like possessing it?”

No luck. Well, I didn’t expect that to work anyway, the idol had to look at least kinda like the deity in question.

They were both made from noticeably different materials. One was brass, the other monster ivory. Maybe that had something to do with it. Maybe Brass was one of her sacred materials or something? I’d only assumed we needed ivory since I knew monster parts were used in the Godboxes construction. I had to wonder what part of its construction that was, now.

This weekend was probably the last one my funds could stand without my finding a job to replace the one that had, well, died on me. I’d used most of that time either investigating Raspe’s death, now solved, or dealing with the ensuing legal troubles.

But I’d promised I’d make a replacement Godbox, and no job I could apply to would take my application on a weekend. So if I had free time, I knew how I was going to spend it.

Well, that and trying to keep from going insane, but I had a hangout with Sarah and some other friends scheduled for later. Right now, the Godbox.

The one I’d made, let’s call it the minibox for simplicity, had stopped responding to prayers. I’d tried every variant I could think of to get it to work again. “Godbox, I call upon you.”

“Minibox, I beseech thee.”

“Our Lady of the Infinite Regress, I call upon ye…”

I had my hands together, my eyes closed. I was willing something to happen as hard as I could, and nothing came. I tried calling upon it with its own name, its old name, but nothing worked.

I figured maybe it was out of juice. Belief alone provided some energy to deities, especially the very small ones, but it was sacrifices that did most of the work. There were whole industries devoted to churning out resources just to sacrifice to deities for other resources, with mass food or metal sacrifices occurring annually to keep the big gods running, especially the Chartered Nine.

So I’d set up the sacrificial bowl and I’d tried everything. Blood, food, metal. Copper, hell, I’d torn some of the electrical wiring out of my kettle to feed into the bowl just in case it wanted electricity. No dice.

Even Lady Regress took blood offerings, though my hands were starting to look like I’d grabbed a thistle from all the tiny cuts that were scabbing over. I had no clue if she appreciated them, but it seemed to help.

Had I broken it? Or worse, broken my faith in it?

Lady Regress was the Godbox, after all. The original one. I couldn’t even call the minibox the Godbox in my head anymore without it sounding wrong.

I slammed a fist into the table, trying to blink tears from my eyes.

“I can’t even- you’re really the only box? I had it working, damn you, I had a working model! It functioned, I warped gravity with this thing, and now- It worked, I know it worked. Was it you all along? Was it you summoned into this thing, or-”

Too much doubt, not enough faith. I’d been so, so certain Bishop Irons was right about the Godbox that just for a second, I’d made her right about it. And now I found out the real thing was something else, a different kind of fraud, not a loophole in the divine system but a simple sleight-of-hand trick…

Options ran through my head. I could find somebody else, convince them of Irons theory, let them make more Godboxes. Hell, go to Irons, convince her. Smash Lady Regress and bury the evidence and go to Irons and have her make it all work. She was a snake and a bitch and by all the nine Chartered Gods if she could make the Godbox real and mass-produced I’d throw in with her in a heartbeat.

But would that even work?

Or was I wrong on some deeper level, was the idol in front of me failing for some other reason, had I misunderstood something else as badly as I’d misunderstood everything the first time when I blundered into a Liberationist hideout expecting to expose Irons for having killed Raspe?

I didn’t know.

And I didn’t want to smash the one piece of evidence I had without being absolutely sure it would pay off. If I made that gamble and I was wrong, after all this, I might just go mad after all.

“I’m afraid we just don’t have any vacancies right now.”

The priest had a haggard, tired look to him. He had bags under his eyes worse than mine, hair which was thinning despite his young age. I could see why, too.

There was a poster on the wall directly behind him. ‘Help make us a land of bounty’, a picture of Hylyss distributing grain from a cornucopia to a mildly insulting depiction of the ragged, dirty poor. The text in the corner was practically begging for extra hands to help manage handing out food and shelter for the needy. The manual work was mostly unpaid, but they said they were looking for accountants and paperworkers to keep things running too, and those jobs just paid almost nothing instead of entirely nothing.

I looked at the poster, then at the priest. I didn’t really need to say anything aloud, he tugged at his collar uncomfortable, turning a little red.

“We’re- we’ve had rather a lot of applications since that went up. You know how it’s more of a pain than it sounds to get new ones printed…”

“Come on, man, you know me. You know I do good work, I’ve done the job before at your place down in Belmon Heights. What’s the problem?”

“We’re full up on-” He tried again. I just waved my head towards the poster. The poster demolished his attempts to defend himself better than I ever could. He deflated a bit. “Look, you want the truth? I don’t know you, but you’re right. A couple of the Belmon guys put in a good word for you. A lot of ‘em, actually. Heck, the Bishop came down- ah, Bishop Sullivan did, that is.” I didn’t smile at him as he spoke. I knew there was a but coming. “Thing is, lotta people came down to do the opposite too. Irons, some of her cronies, one of our big charity funders…”

Yeah, that explained it. I’d hoped… well, this wasn’t a Integralist institution, I thought I’d be safe from her if I applied here, but apparently not.

“You’re too much of a hot topic, Miss Ruge. Give it a month once things have calmed down, maybe, but right now? We can’t afford the trouble.”

I put a stiff, forced smile on my face. I could just feel the corners of my mouth twitching, as much as I tried to keep the smile pleasant. I stood, nodded politely. “No, no, I fully understand. Thank you for your time. Do you have any suggestions for where else I could-”

“I’m afraid not.” He sighed. “Look, if things get really bad for you, come to us from the other side of the table. We’ll help you out, it’s what we do, and we doubt Irons could object to that, right?”

If he was trying to be comforting, he wasn’t managing it. I closed the door behind me, and took a long, long breath. Trying not to scream.

Sarah was standing right in front of me, she’d been sitting on a chair, right outside, waiting.

“No good, huh?”

I shook my head at her. “Can’t you just like- order them to take me? Aren’t you in charge of these places? You helped set most of them up, right? It’s a church institution, and-”

She gave me a pained look. Sympathetic, but pained. “You really want me to go full nepotism? I can just order them to take you, you know, at least so long as none of my superiors get too mad about it, which they won’t. But it’ll be on-record, and I dunno if you want…”

I looked at those big blue eyes of hers long and hard. Thought about taking her offer. It would solve a lot of problems for me, in the short term.

I shook my head anyway.

“Do you even have any other friends who can walk you home?”

“Oh, can it. You’re a priest of Hylyss, it’s your obligation to help the poor and needy.” I chuckled.

It was late, and I was right on the edge of what was admittedly a rather dangerous part of town. I was fairly sure Sarah could handle herself with her channelling necklace, but she’d insisted on walking me home after an evening out.

Admittedly she was now cracking jokes as though this was my idea, but that was besides the point.

It had been a pretty nice day and the sun was just setting. I’d insisted on treating her to a nice meal as thanks for at least trying to get me a job somewhere. It was more or less the last of the money I had, and probably a bad call given I knew she could probably afford to treat me, but I’d felt obliged. It’s the principle of the thing.

When I first saw the police officer outside my house, I’d actually been glad. I thought they’d finally listened to my request to station a personal guard to deal with all the break-ins.

Then I saw my door was wide open, and two more officers were inside. That was when I started to worry.

“What on earth is-”

“Ma’am, we’re going to need you to stand back. This is a-”

We got stopped at my front door. I could peek through the door and hell, the window, see that the officers were turning the place over almost as thoroughly as the burglars were. I could see one reading through the pile of letters in my frontroom. Admittedly that was mostly bills, but-

“Was there another break-in? Did- did you catch-” I asked, gasping. The officer’s expression was stern and stony. I did not get the impression he was fresh off capturing a culprit.

“Got an report you was concealing evidence regarding an ongoing case, marm. Got permission from a judge to search the premises.”

Ah. I tried not to pale too badly in fright. How I wished I had control of the blood vessels in my face just now.

“Which judge?” Sarah was composed at least. Her tone was about as frosty as the officers, but composed.

“The Right Honorable Miriam Sturgeon, marm. We has the papers right here.” He started to withdraw some from his satchel, but Sarah waved him off. Her expression soured, and I could guess why without her needing to say it. It was one of Irons’ people, wasn’t it? In her pocket somehow.

“How long ‘til we can get back inside?” I asked

“Once a’ priest’s done wit’ everythin’. Got them searchin’ for divine somethingorothers, we do.”

I could see a line of little idols being set up across the floor, and now that you mentioned it, the little prickle of energy in the hairs on my neck. Bad, that was bad. Would they find Our Lady?

They couldn’t detect her before, at the auditorium. And if she really was divine, what did that mean, hm?

“We’ll wait.” I sighed. At the very least it was a warm and clear night. We wouldn’t be staying out in the rain.

I paused a moment. Gave a silent glance to Sarah, standing beside me. I mean, I was home. She didn’t need to keep me safe anymore, she could go home now.

She didn’t make any move to leave, though. She just leaned against the wall to rest her legs a little as she waited for the police to move on, by my side.

This wasn’t the first time my house had been ruined. It wasn’t even the first time this week.

It looked just like it had a few days ago. Upturned cushions, wrecked cabinets, everything in the fridge melted and warm. Life really did like to come full circle. It wasn’t really any worse than the attempted burglars had done, actually. I wasn’t sure why it felt different.

I rushed upstairs anyway.

I didn’t bother checking the damage or seeing if anybody had palmed the silverware, not that I owned any silverware. I only had one concern on my mind.

“Hey, wait, where are you-”

“Wait down there!” I called back to Sarah.

I rapped my knuckles on the bedside table. The air warped, Lady Regress appeared.

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

Still there. They hadn’t found her. That was… that was good, right? That was good.

I had no money to replace anything. No food in the fridge. My sacrifice bowl to Lugann was nearly empty. That’s why this was different to the last time my house had been ruined, this time wasn’t nearly so fixable.

But Lady Regress was still safe, just the same.

“...They’re gonna get you eventually, you know.” I said. My voice was barely a whisper. “Irons is gonna send more cops, or another breakin, and this time hiding won’t work and they’re gonna get you, and it’s going to have been pointless, and all the crap I went through trying to protect you isn’t going to have mattered.” I took a harsh breath, voice quivering. “And- I’m not even going to know if you wanted protecting or not, because you’re not going to have spoken yet. Do you-” I stared. I was getting angry, now. I knew the idol hadn’t done this, the god inside had been nothing but helpful for me. But I couldn’t help but blame it, at least a little. “...if you don’t talk now, give me- tell me something useful. Hells, scrawl a message in the dirt if you can’t speak, I’m gonna- I’m gonna take you to Irons. How about that? Bet she’ll give me- give me a finder’s fee. If I can’t make another one of you, and you’re the only one, and it was all a trick and you can’t be mass-produced, then… what am I even hiding you for, anyway?”

Silence. A long, long silence. And then finally, blissfully, speech.

“I told you at the start that taking Irons’ offer was the right bloody call.”

I jumped out of my skin. Sarah was standing in the doorway, right behind me.

She was staring right at the idol.

“I- oh, for… it’s- I made it as a… project. Trying to recreate the Godbox if it was… uh, if Irons was right, that-” No, Sarah hated that idea. Was it really worth avoiding the truth, if she’ll still get mad at the best lie you can think of? “It’s… a…”

I couldn’t think of anything in time. Fortunately, she spoke up and put me out of my misery. “Wonderful work. And… not what I expected. Please tell me she’s not unshackled and unlicensed? She’s a charter signatory, right…?”

She approached the idol, picked it up, turned it over in her hand. She seemed to admire the craftswork.

“I have no idea. Probably? She won’t talk to me, like, at all. She hasn’t manifested outside her idol, or refused an order by a licensed user or anything. Hasn’t preached in favor of overthrowing mankind. Is there a way to tell?”

“I can check her name in the records if there’s paperwork, does she have a-”

“Our Lady of the Infinite Regress.” I said. I didn’t see recognition in Sarah’s eyes, but she nodded, put the idol down.

“Okay, right.” She sighed. She took a moment just to process, there was an awkward silence. I felt almost trapped with indecision, unsure what to say, how even to proceed here. Should I try to get her to help me make more boxes? Turn Lady Regress over to her? Give up and go to Irons? Show her th-

Wait, where was the other idol?

I rushed right back downstairs. Sarah was bewildered, gasping out a “Wait, where are you go-”

It had been in my front room. I hadn’t considered it evidence, I wasn’t hiding it or anything. On my worktable, it had been on-

It was gone. They’d taken it. I cursed myself. Of course, they were looking for an idol I wasn’t licensed to own. One without a god in it, so it wasn’t exactly a criminal case.

There was a piece of paper in its place. A summons to appear to trial for, you guessed it, concealment of evidence.

I crumpled it up in my fist. I was half tempted to burn it, but I’d need it to know the date and where to show up.

Sarah had come down the stairs after me. She saw me hunched over the table, the piece of paper, in the ruins of a room.

“...Alex?” She asked, voice filled with concern.

“...I…” I was really out of options. I sat down. The best thing was? I didn’t even feel distressed anymore. No more anxiety, no more frustration, no more terror. This just made it really, really clear what exactly I needed to do next.

The paper crunched in my hand as I gripped it tight enough to tear.

“Fine. She wins. Irons… I… I’ll take Regress to her. Nine Gods help me, even after everything, I’ll take Regress to her.” I said out loud. My voice sounded foreign to my ears, like it wasn’t even me saying it.

“But… I’ll have some conditions.”