Zoe’s mind tried to rev to the highest gear too quickly and got stuck instead. The Inquisitor hadn’t attacked her yet, so he had to want something. Zoe didn’t know what it was, but she also didn’t know how to play along. “I—what?”

  For the Inquisitor’s part, he looked equally unsure of how to proceed. “I’ll take that to mean you don’t know anything. I can’t say I expected otherwise, but one can always hope.” He paused. “Or, you could know something, but you’re pretending not to know because you’re complicit in it.”

  Zoe didn’t say anything. This was not out of fear of self-incrimination, but out of a total loss for words. The Inquisitor coughed into his gloved fist. “Never mind, sorry. Joke in poor taste.” Straightening himself up, despite already being straightened, he gestured to the road—trail, really—back to town. “Shall we?”

  Zoe nodded, and they set down the path in silence. What is up with this guy? Zoe didn’t understand what he got out of this. There were a few different options she could think of to explain the situation.

  The first was that there was no deception here and that, somehow, this guy was being honest about everything. Despite how ridiculous it sounded, Zoe didn’t outright dismiss the possibility. That was likely the best outcome.

  Another option was that this guy was playing chess and she was one of the pieces. Zoe didn’t know how to even begin figuring out what his objective would be in such a case, least of all how to counter it. All she could do in that outcome was to keep her wits about her and do what it took to survive.

  There was a third option, related to the second. If she was dealing with a grandmaster in manipulation, then he had no doubt shrouded himself in layers of subterfuge and false motivations. That left the possibility he wasn’t an Inquisitor at all—though this did nothing to help Zoe.

  And, finally, this left the fourth option. Like a virtuoso guitarist could break a string, a grandmaster of mind games could make an ironic mistake. Perhaps when you unfolded all the layers, this Inquisitor had landed on the wrong side—thinking that Zoe was not, in fact, a demon.

  None of this hypothesizing gave Zoe any insight on how to approach the immediate future, so she did what she should have done at the beginning and activated some skills.

  Acting!

  Persuasion!

  This accomplished nothing discernible except putting a small drain on her mana, but if there was a time to take precautions, this was it. The trip back through the outskirts took them all of five minutes, at which point they reached the ornamental wall and thus the official, legal town limits.

  The Inquisitor—Zoe realized she’d forgotten his name—came to a stop and turned to face her. “Investigations like this are less productive when taken up alone.” He frowned. “I have some assistance in the form of other members of my order, but I’ve found local allies often prove themselves invaluable.”

  Zoe studied his face, saying nothing. For all the uncertainty, one thing she knew was that this man came to her with a pre-planned angle, and she was about to hear it. His next words proved her right.

  “I’d like to offer a temporary partnership. In exchange for using your property as a covert outpost for operations, the Inquisition is prepared to offer you a substantial financial compensation.”

  A-ha! There it is! For all Zoe knew, this guy was still full of bullshit. That didn’t change the fact that she’d gotten to the pitch, and now it was time for her to react to it. Under more mundane circumstances, Zoe didn’t need magic powers to fake people out. In this less-than-mundane case, the skills she’d been fueling worked to fill in the gaps.

  “Uh-huh.” Zoe narrowed her eyes. “What kind of compensation are we talking about here? Don’t get me wrong, I’m a huge fan of the Church—ask anyone—and I wouldn’t hesitate to help root out whatever infernal mischief you’re investigating. Hell, I’d do it myself if I could.”

  The Inquisitor’s eyes narrowed in turn. Zoe could see the irritation brewing. She grinned. It was easy to do so, with how stuff like this made her feel, and it was even easier to turn the grin sleazy. “But, well, as an Inquisitor I’m sure you know…” One of the man’s razor sharp eyebrows arched, as if to ask what she knew. “Well these things can sometimes get a little messy, and I kind of paid a lot for that property. It would be a shame if anything, uh, shameful were to happen to it.”

  The tired sigh that graced Zoe’s ears was like an angel’s whisper. Jackpot. If Zoe was somehow not a true suspect, she’d done everything she could to divert suspicion, and gotten a nice bonus to fill her metaphorical coffers on top. Then she realized a problem.

  “Okay, fine. Three eights of a silver per day we use your services, with an additional sixteenth iron put down to cover any substantial damages.”

  The problem was that Zoe still didn’t have a great sense of money in this world. Yes, she’d bought property and had started lobbying, but a few past experiences could only go so far. Lilith! Help! Meanwhile, Zoe tried to look like she was thinking over the offer.

  “Huh? Oh, metal.” Lilith hummed, drawing out the sound like she was screwing with Zoe by making her wait. “Yeah, that works, probably. I’m not any more familiar with specific numbers here than you, but iron is always stupidly expensive. So this guy is probably taking it seriously.”

  Zoe didn’t understand the bit about iron but had little time to question it. She’d roll with Lilith’s assessment for now. “That’s not a bad offer.” She raised a finger before the Inquisitor could proceed. “But it’s not a great one either. Why three eights when it could be a half? It makes you sound cheap.”

  The Inquisitor’s eye twitched. “Cheap? You’re raising by a third over. But fine. Half a silver a day, happy?”

  Zoe narrowed her eyes. “And a sixteenth iron deposit for any substantial damages.” The Inquisitor rolled his eyes as they shook. Zoe had gone through enough grief with her shop to know that words and a handshake weren’t enough to establish an agreement like this.

  But what were they going to do, go draft a contract and get it witnessed at the town hall? This was a shady undercover operation. The agreement was supposed to be off-the-books by design. That was the point.

  Upon releasing his hand, Zoe frowned. “Wait, what was your name? I forgot. I know you told me, but I didn’t think it would end up being important.”

  Lilith snorted. The Inquisitor was less amused. “Marceus.” Looking off into the woods, he also mumbled something about a greedy, power-hungry bitch. Zoe didn’t know what he could be talking about, so she probably imagined it.

  “So what now? I hope you don’t plan on going straight to my clinic. I’d like to have a little time to hide all the contraband if I’m going to be hosting an Inquisitor.” Zoe thought her jest had a couple layers of irony, given that she didn’t have any contraband. The only dangerous and illegal thing there was herself.

  Inquisitor Marceus shook his head, to her relief. “No, not exactly. I’ll head there soon, but I have to get attacked by a bear first.”

  Zoe started to nod. Then the last part of what he said caught up to her while the Inquisitor was already walking off the path to the edge of the trees. “Wait, what?”

  The Inquisitor didn’t say anything. He just stared into the trees, waiting. Zoe peered past him. She didn’t see anything, unless you counted tree trunks, the ground, and some rocks. She turned a lazy circle, wondering if there were any bears. She’d never seen a bear near Blossomfell. She’d never seen a bear anywhere outside of a zoo.

  A terrible scream caught her attention. Whirling around, she just managed to see Marceus slam down in a pile of fallen leaves before being smothered beneath a metric ton of furry brown muscle. It was a bear.

  It was a really big bear. Zoe’s surprise gave way to fascination. Despite its similar coloration, the monster before her had to be larger than any regular grizzly. Granted, Zoe hadn’t seen a grizzly bear up close at the same height as her—but this thing was big. It should crush any ordinary human with a single smack of its paw.

  Inquisitor Marceus was no ordinary man. The bear roared and rolled back as hungry orange flames licked across its thick fur. The Inquisitor rocketed to his feet, leather straps of his armor torn, his hair a mess, but otherwise little worse for wear. The same could be said of the bear with its singed belly.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Identify!

  [WOODLAND STONE BEAR]

  Rank E | Level 30

  It’s not a monster in the technical sense, but it’s not cuddly either. It likes fish. It doesn’t like being disturbed.

  -Alignment-

  > Stone

  > Life

  -Strengths-

  > Power

  > Durability

  -Weaknesses-

  > Acuity

  > Spoiled Fish

  Zoe glared at the intangible system upon reading the last bit of information. The system’s sense of so-called humor appealed to her, which was why she hated it.

  The situation also served to remind her that she hadn’t used identify on the Inquisitor yet. That was one of the first things she should have done. Better late than never, right?

  Identify!

  Identify failed.

  A custom label has been set for this target in your encyclopedia.

  Ah, hell! Zoe hadn’t experienced that particular pain in some time. The resulting backlash and headache were cause for re-evaluating her assumption. I guess it’s good I forgot to do it. Dealing with this guy would have been so much worse if I also had to experience this at the same time.

  The cacophonous roar of man and beast was doing nothing for her throbbing mind and spirit. Marceus had this planned and knew what he was doing, so Zoe left him to it. Besides, she reasoned, if the bear did manage to kill him, that would be doing me a favor.

  She just wished she didn’t have to stumble back to the center of town stressed out and mentally aching.

  _____

  While it had yet to fully abate, the backlash from the failed skill activation had lessened enough by the time Zoe returned to her little clinic that she didn’t hesitate to make a detour to the shop next door. The town’s local Loch Alchemy & Enchanting was Zoe’s first guess for where to get started on her Rank E advancement. There were other less than mundane shops in the area, but the vibes told her that it would be a better start than the smith making magic swords.

  The shopkeeper, or manager, or whatever, was named Stella if Zoe recalled. Tall, dark-haired, and equally pretty, Stella got a pass that Lily didn’t. This was because there was more than one way to look beautiful, and Stella’s was distinct enough to not infringe on Zoe’s trademarked likeness. The ice-summoning heiress to the Blodmane house, in contrast, just stole Zoe’s aesthetic and changed the hair color.

  Stella looked up from the central, circular desk-thing at Zoe’s entrance. “Oh, hi Olivia. Survived your jaunt in the mines, I see.”

  Zoe frowned, and it wasn’t from the dissonance from hearing her fake name. How did she guess that? I literally just got back. Zoe looked down. Oh. It’s because I’m covered in dried blood and slashed up clothing, isn’t it.

  “Uh, yeah. I didn’t get any materials that are worth selling you. Or any materials at all, really.” She coughed into a fist. “I did, uh—inadvertently—manage to accomplish what I needed to advance my rank to… you know, the next rank.”

  Lilith’s cackling echoed in Zoe’s skull as she stumbled to a conversational stopping point. “Smooth.”

  In Zoe’s defense, she didn’t want to invite suspicion by implying her main purpose for delving was leveling. Also, catching herself at the end was important despite how awkward it sounded. Most people assumed she was Rank D, or Rank E at minimum. Coupled with the fact that she’d reached neither of those ranks yet, it made her feel proud and inadequate at the same time.

  Zoe’s heart sunk as she realized Stella wasn’t going to let that slip by. The warning signs began with the eyebrows. “Interesting. Does your secondary class have something to do with turning monsters into blood, or…?”

  Wincing, Zoe thought for an excuse. What she’d told the guildsmaster was good enough. Also, ‘turning monsters into blood?’ I think that’s a joke, but it sounds really cool as a loose metaphor. I’ve got to remember that one. “I tried to practice healing skills on them, actually.”

  “Uh huh. And how did that work out?”

  “It didn’t,” Zoe admitted. “Though I still got to practice healing.”

  The shopkeeper laughed—it was more of a snort, really. “I see. Is that what you told the old geezer? I wouldn’t be surprised if he bought it.”

  Zoe frowned. She didn’t know what to say to that, but it looked like Stella wasn’t going to press further. In a sense, that small mercy was concerning in its own way.

  “So, aiming for the next rank, yeah?” Zoe nodded as Stella set down what she’d been working on—accounting, perhaps—and circled around the counter. “Hmm. I think it goes without saying that advancement techniques themselves aren’t something we do more than dabble in. Aside from the generic crap, I guess.”

  Zoe figured as much. As she’d come to understand it, certain knowledge was guarded jealously, lest anyone else get their hands on it. Zoe thought that kind of mindset was stupid, and that a whole bunch of stuffy wizards were likely stuck reinventing each other’s wheels. Still, the problem of getting her own eyes on things remained an open problem.

  “Yeah, I figured as much.” Zoe chewed her lip. She decided she would be better off taking a look at whatever Basil left her with first. Then she could decide whether to poke around more, as well as determining whether she needed any special materials. “I might need some materials though, but honestly I should probably come back. I kind of forgot that walking around like this wasn’t normal.”

  “Covered in dried blood, you mean?” Zoe nodded, and Stella sighed. “Yeah, well, you might want to remember that.” Zoe turned to leave, but the shopkeeper wasn’t finished. “Wait up a moment. Come to think of it, I do have something you might find useful.”

  That got Zoe’s attention. But before she could ask what it was, the raven-haired shopkeeper had disappeared into the mythical land of plenty known colloquially as ‘the back.’ Zoe took the opportunity to start touching the pricier merchandise with ‘Do Not Touch’ placards.

  “Here we are.” Zoe’s 150 points of Perception did nothing to warn her of Stella’s approach from behind.

  “Eeeee-ya-how-what?”

  In her surprise, Zoe threw an expensive glass inscription rod that she wasn’t supposed to be holding. Stella plucked it from the air mere inches before it could hit the ground. “Careful. If you haven’t learned your letters yet, those cards say not to touch,” the shopkeeper remarked dryly.

  “Oh, I know,” Zoe admitted. “I just decided to pick them up anyway.”

  “You know what? That’s on me.” Stella sighed as she put the rod back on its accompanying stand. “I should have expected that. Anyway—as I said, I realized I did have something that might help you. I don’t need it anymore, but I still want it back if you don’t end up using it.”

  Zoe’s eyes widened, and she reached for the slim book offered to her. Stella’s grip tightened around the book before she could take it. “Selling it doesn’t count as using it. Also, it’s a book, so burning it, eating it, or hitting people with it don’t count either.”

  Zoe scowled and snatched the book away. “Do you think I’m a child?” The faint smile behind the shopkeeper’s stoic mask answered that question, to Zoe’s dismay. “But point taken. Thanks—wait.” Her scowl morphed to a frown. “I thought you didn’t sell advancement techniques?”

  “Loch Alchemy and Enchanting doesn’t. And that doesn’t belong to the store. It belongs to me. And I’m not selling it—I’m lending it to a friend.”

  Now that she thought more about the whole thing, Zoe decided this was all rather odd—but that wasn’t going to stop her from profiting off it. Free advancement techniques from a suspicious shopkeeper was low on her list of near past, near future, or at present perils. “Thanks. I will be sure to remember not to eat it,” Zoe said with forced seriousness. Stella just nodded, making the joke fall flat and signaling to Zoe that it was time to get back to her house and get clean.

  She waited until she was out of the shop to store the book in her inventory. While Zoe still wore the storage ring she got from cult leader and political extremist Basil Von Blodmane, it was only a decoy for her more potent and personalized personal inventory trait. And while she’d learned that higher end shops often had wards to disrupt putting things into storage devices as a form of passive theft prevention, her demon core’s innate storage ability bypassed them.

  Rather than walk next door to her very own small business and emergency clinic, Zoe decided to pay a visit to her private residence. The other property she’d bought with Basil’s money was at the edge of town, though on roughly the opposite side from the way to the mines. While Blossomfell was a step up from an interstate highway exit town with two burger chains and a gas station, the walk took her less time than the stretch between some of her college courses back on Earth.

  The dried blood and Zoe’s general disheveled look got her a few stares, but Zoe had already cultivated a certain reputation. No one bothered her until she arrived at her own gate.

  Zoe’s house was an old, two floor stone construction with an untamed garden, stagnant fountain, and a wrought iron fence bordering the town wall. On the far side, another gate set into the masonry allowed access to the trees beyond. Those same branches loomed back over into the yard, in one case stabbing straight through a second floor corner and continuing back out the adjacent side.

  Combined with the steeply peaked attic and the large cellar, Zoe was more than pleased with her find. Foggy windowpanes and lack of insulation be damned, the house surpassed anything she could have hoped to so much as rent before her brush with death.

  It would be so nice and peaceful, Zoe thought as she unlocked and opened the front door, if not for the ghastly wailing of an anguished pipe organ. Yes, the old cottage came equipped with an honest to the dead gods miniature church organ. A certain wolf had taken to committing sonic atrocities with the ancient beast, amplifying the gloomy and haunted aura of the place.

  Combined with the weird stuff in the cellar and the mechanism in the attic, Zoe almost expected a ghost to show up. She didn’t normally believe in that stuff, but here she was transformed into a literal demon in a world with cursed temples and skeletons that didn’t stop working just because they were feeling a little deceased. Ghosts were now on the table, but any transparent squatters had yet to show themselves.

  Tip-toeing past the organ chamber, Zoe made herself comfortable in the sitting area. She had a few books and scrolls to look at, and she was curious to see what an alchemist in retail thought might benefit her.