Zoe had a small stack of book-like things once everything floating around in her inventory was accounted for. Rather than group them in any particular order, she gave each a cursory examination in order from the top. The first one was the biggest and thickest.

  “The Cutltist’s Almanac,” Zoe read from the front cover. It was a big black book that felt as dense as a King James Bible. “Well that’s a no-nonsense title.” Zoe expected that this thing would turn out to be a giant textbook and encyclopedia of cursed knowledge. It certainly looked like a Necronomicon. Flipping open the cover and skimming the front matter proved her right.

  In fact, it covered more than she expected. Basil was an Infernal cultist, but clearly there were a lot of other varieties. This book looked like it covered material for all of them, or at least a sizeable portion.

  Her finger stopped when she reached the author line. “A faithful translation of Alhazred’s original masterpiece to modern Veyrse by P. Draktacius.” Zoe frowned. “Alhazred? Don’t tell me Lovecraft was actually onto something. Wait, there’s a note.” The asterisk-like symbol led to a section of finer text on the bottom. “Some may ask why Demonic is not the superior choice. The translator might remark that this text is far from limited In use to the Infernalists, and that Veyrse provides a less bothersome reaction should an off-duty Templar happen to glimpse a page while passing by your train car.”

  Zoe looked up. They have trains here? Also, that definitely happened to this guy. That’s pretty funny.

  Setting aside the almanac for the moment, she moved on to a smaller, slimmer book with a magenta and black cover. This one was written in demonic, including the shiny letters on the front cover. I guess the publisher wasn’t worried about getting spotted while on the train.

  Zoe’s expression scrunched into a disdainful scowl as she read the title. “So You Want to Tame a Succubus.” Her eyes flicked to the subtitle. “Tips, Tricks, and Gruesome Ends to Avoid. Ew. I think I hate Basil even more now.” She didn’t expect her opinion of the cultist to get lower just by looking through his books. It was a colorful reminder to not underestimate people.

  “If it’s any consolation,” Lilith piped up, “it’s a shit book and he might have intended to screw with you. There’s no such thing as a succubus. The closest you could get would be a higher demon of Passion, which I guess scummy infernalists might try to pass off.”

  Zoe didn’t think the new information changed her assessment of Basil’s character, though it wasn’t useless to know. Wait a minute. So there are demons of Passion, Disdain, and I’m pretty sure I’ve seen a cultist of Wrath. It’s about time I get the full list.

  It would be as easy as asking Lilith, and Zoe admitted that was something she should have done on day one. That being said, she had a telephone book sized black magic manual. It had to have a table of contents or index.

  Sure enough, it took her all of ten seconds to find the page where a breakdown of the basic demon groups began. And, by extension, it would also apply to infernal cultists and various other fiendish shenanigans, by Zoe’s understanding.

  “Just as the Hallow divides itself into six fundamental Virtues, the Infernal divides itself into the six fundamental Vices.” Zoe looked up. The Church’s full name is the Living Church of the Sixfold Hallows, so that explains that. Bit weird that it’s not seven, but having a demon hunting Inquisition doesn’t make you Catholic.

  Skimming down a bit, Zoe read the full list of the Infernal Vices. “Wrath, Sorrow, Passion, Revulsion, Fear, and Disdain. Huh. Wait, what are the Virtues, then?” Some flipping back and forth led Zoe to a breakdown on the Hallowed side of things. “Justice, Faith, Grace, Purity, Valor, and Righteousness. Hmm.”

  Running both lists over in her mind, Zoe felt like there was a one to one correspondence following the order in which the almanac listed them.

  Seemingly unable to restrain herself any longer, Lilith materialized in Zoe’s vision as a little doll style in the likeness of herself. A tiny measuring stick formed in her tiny hand—something Zoe hadn’t seen her sentient hallucination do before. “Yeah, they do. Good job on putting that together, I guess.” Flicking her stick, the toy version of Zoe drew six arcane shapes in the air. “They’re about the same core emotions. If we go in that same order, we have categories of anger, sadness, happiness, disgust, fear, and pride.”

  Zoe blinked. For something that she guessed would be common knowledge, it still felt like a great epiphany. Looking back at the lists of Virtues and Vices, she could see how they all fit. It also meant that in more familiar terms, she and Basil alike were attuned to pride. Honestly, that checks out.

  Diabolical revelations now behind her, Zoe proceeded to check through the rest of the books and scrolls. There were two books on alchemy, one of which was a hobbyist-level introductory guide. The other was about synthesizing toxins, working with hellfire, and other assorted sketchy stuff. Alongside those two was a chunky field guide to different herbs and other useful plants she might encounter.

  After that came the rituals and skill tomes. There were three of each, though two of the skill tomes required her to be at least Rank E and the third Rank D. They also didn’t give her specific skills. They just guaranteed that she would get a free skill in a broad category that was appropriate to her rank and level.

  As for the rituals, one was to erect a primitive shield barrier, another was to accumulate as much raw mana as possible into something, and the last was just building up a giant explosion. All of those sounded like they could be handy.

  Stolen story; please report.

  And, at last, there remained the advancement techniques. Zoe expected these to be complex and hard to understand. They were neither. One of them was a single page outlining something not dissimilar to the three basic rituals. The other was a book of thirty-something pages, but most of those were extended notes or more detailed reference materials. The technique itself covered four and a half pages.

  Zoe read through them. A couple minutes later, she had a good idea of both options.

  The first, shorter one was the simplest and most generic human-style technique that had a high chance of working for demons. Lilith chimed in to call it “the infernal equivalent of useless public library material.” Zoe rejected it then and there.

  The second was superior, being a more refined method tailored to demons of Disdain. However, it was also tailored to demons bound to a human or another demon. It had a chance of working for Zoe anyway, but it wasn’t an appealing option.

  That left the book the shopkeeper Stella had given her. If it didn’t have something she could use, Zoe would be on her own. And honestly, I think that’s more likely than not. How would a human alchemist have something applicable to me? Whatever it is would probably work for a normal healer.

  While it wasn’t exactly huge, the book was a good bit thicker than the book for the bound demon technique. Zoe opened the cover, which took her straight to a table of contents. Zoe’s eyes widened when she realized it wasn’t a single technique, but rather a whole catalog of them.

  The table of contents was divided in three high-level sections according to rank. Naturally, it went from advancing to Rank E, to Rank D, all the way up to Rank C. Within each of these sections, it listed techniques for all six different Infernal Vices. Some of the subsections even had multiple. Zoe hadn’t just won—she’d stumbled into being handed the jackpot.

  Then her thoughts caught up to her. “Wait. Hold up. Why does a random shopkeeper have a book filled with infernal and probably very illegal techniques?” And, the more concerning question—why give it to Zoe? A thought struck her, and she pulled over the hefty almanac. Flipping pages of both books open confirmed it. The book she gave me is literally written in demonic.

  _____

  While the bear itself may have been an illusion, Marceus did not back out of beating himself up. Under similar circumstances, he would fake injury in an equally illusory manor. In this circumstance, however, he was dealing with a healer. And while the Inquisitor had committed to working with her, there was no need to spoil the illusion. This Olivia could still be a suspect.

  It was her proximity to his best lead and current target that convinced Marceus to approach her, not any positive evaluation of her character. If anything, the Inquisitor disliked the healer. It was a shame that he couldn’t risk faking his injuries. While his illusions were more than capable of simulating life such that a low-rank healer wouldn’t know the difference while in their presence, it would take an exceptional degree of incompetence to remain ignorant while actively ‘healing’ him. Thus, Marceus resorted to inflicting real damage on his real body.

  It was when he staggered to his feet and regained his breath that he realized his error. The scummy healer was nowhere in sight.

  “Heavens damn it.” The Inquisitor limped forward into the town proper, muttering a string of less than virtuous curses under his breath all along the way. “Blasted girl did this on purpose.” In her defense, Marceus hadn’t told her to wait around—but that should have been implied. “Going to gouge me for the treatment to, I’ll wager.”

  Sheer willpower let the Inquisitor stumble halfway to her clinic without bleeding out on the cobbles. Using a potion would defeat the point, but a notable blood trail would bring more attention than he intended. His wounds tried to weep, but Marceus refused. He would hold it in. Like tears when he was an insecure boy who fancied himself a man. Or like piss.

  And like both, it worked—but only for so long.

  “Hey, mister!”

  Grimacing, Marceus hobbled into a sad quarter turn to face the teen girl who called out to him. He steadied his breath. “Yeah?”

  "You look like you could use a hand getting yourself somewhere.” The girl, or young woman—Marceus didn’t know what was more appropriate—looked him up and down. “What happened to you?”

  “A bear.” Stumbling back into a dignified—walk, it wasn’t a stumble—the Inquisitor moved past the brat. “And I don’t need a hand. I already have two of them.”

  “Not for long you don’t.” Not content to leave well enough alone, the town fool caught up with him. Doing so wasn’t difficult at the moment. “I know someone who could patch you up quick. Come on.”

  Marceus came dangerously close to incinerating the obnoxious wench when she had the gall to touch him. He settled on gritting his teeth as together they pushed and stumbled the last stretch to Olivia’s little clinic. In so doing they passed the local installment of Loch Alchemy & Enchanting. The Inquisitor would soon be doing the business a favor by exterminating the demon they’d unwittingly employed as the local shopkeeper.

  It would only be the start.

  One door over lay the clinic. Teetering to a halt, the pair stared into the darkness beyond the entryway. The clinic was empty.

  Marceus cursed. Next to him, the nameless busybody grunted. “Yeah, I feel you. She does have a habit of being inconvenient.” Of course, the village girl misunderstood the situation and the cause for Marceus’ distress.

  Had he misjudged Olivia? Leaving him to limp up to her doorstep on his own was one thing—but an immediate failure to show up at her own clinic, right after making a deal to set him up there? It was fishier than the ocean.

  “Come on, we’ll go drag you to her house, I guess.” Marceus didn’t resist the girl dragging him elsewhere. His thoughts raced as he considered the possibilities and ways to implement damage control. In the worst case, Olivia was complicit in the deepest levels of corruption and had run off to alert other conspirators to his presence.

  It would be a stupid thing to do, but not unrealistically so. The logical thing to do would be to continue the charade as a double agent. Logical, yes, but she could also be a simple coward.

  As for what the Inquisitor himself could do? These were the situations where his uniquely synergistic illusion skills shone brightest. Along with sending a pair of his conjured adventuring party to loiter around the main road in and out of the town, he sent his officially uniformed Inquisitor form to take watch over the town square and hall.

  As for the other half of his adventuring party? Marceus turned to the girl helping him towards Olivia’s personal residence. “Hey, it’s only my first day here—where is it she lives, again?”