Nick's store was near the center of Old Town and within walking distance of most pces. For all that he kept the pce practical and normal looking, it had grown to be a hub of the magical community. The man knew so much that he was guaranteed to give you the material you needed or the name of someone you could order it from (like certain money-desperate cartographers). And that was only if he didn't look at your diagrams and find a substitute that would work better than the original.

  The next on her list was the old courthouse/town hall. Fraulein was staying close, letting people think she was a trained familiar. Because of that, they came to the courthouse with no complications. The three-story building had seen better days. The stone walls, while thick and a great refuge in case of a crypto attack, were smeared with rust stains from the gutters at the roof. There was litter on the wn and a few unsteady, rough-looking people who may have just left the town's jail across the street.

  This was not a happy pce. Its pnts were too manicured, its air too heavy with stress, and she hated how reassuring she found the hidden knife and the open-carry revolver on her hip. Having to look at other people with distrust was toxic to the soul. Cartography and being a forest guide weren't the best—she had a particur love-hate retionship with her heavy cartographer's chain—but times like this reminded her how much better her work was than living in the city. Sure, she vigorously mpooned her clients (as all service workers were entitled to), but there wasn't a desk job in the world that she would trade it for.

  Also, not that she was stuck on this topic or anything, but cities just had a smell to them. It was the sweet, disgusting ethanol-haze of food rotting in public trash cans, the occasional whiff of fetid air from storm drains, and a burnt chemical tang overlying it all.

  She didn't linger. She and Fraulein circled around the building and descended stone stairs below street level. At their base was a door that was not ratty but had a few chips in the paint. The inside was a waiting room so small that it seemed unfriendly to the concept of waiting. There were five seats in a space that should have only held three, and she did not envy the person who had spent more than a few minutes in the cramped underground box of a room.

  Sitting at a broad desk that was unreachable without scooting sideways past a coffee table sat her contact.

  "Hey, Nikko."

  "My favorite botanist!" he beamed at her.

  Nikko was a normal-sized, doughy dude with a goatee and sideburns. The sideburns were not bushy in the impressive way of antique portraits. Still, they covered enough real estate that he obviously spent a lot of time thinking about the fashion statement they made.

  At the slightest provocation, he would tell you the exact Pacific isnd and Norwegian country his parents had come from and then proceed to make jokes about the combination of ethnicities that Shilloh felt bordered on offensive. He had somewhat dramatic gsses and wore his button-down shirts with a conic smile that said, 'Oh, look at the barely visible tiger eyes bracelets under the cuff and the perpetual looseness of my tie. I'm 'pushing the boundaries.' Our corporate overlords don't understand how us young people are, am I right!'

  For all of that, he was a decent listener and went out of his way to help her. Despite technically being a freencer, much of Shilloh's work came from the city council. Cartography and map-making were difficult arts, and they overpped with enough other skills that they occasionally called her in for projects that were not strictly her profession. Having a contact in the building was vital. It's what got people to recall her name.

  Nikko always made her paperwork as easy as possible and called her whenever he heard something that might help her business. Hell, he had been the one who first told her about the permits for the mossquade.

  "Got time to talk?" she asked.

  "For you? Always."

  She tried to ask him about Wade, but he shushed her and insisted they needed to talk over lunch. He swung the sign inside the door's window to 'unavaible' and winked at her.

  Shilloh did not know what they were conspiratorially winking about, so she just smiled.

  Nikko abhorred silence. So, it didn't take long for him to start a conversation as he guided them to lunch. "Okay, Shilloh, I have a garden conundrum. I got the exact poppy seeds you suggested, but I have this thing happening where they keep getting real droopy."

  "Okay. How are the cucumbers going?'

  "Fine. But I can't figure out the poppies. I switched the water schedule a dozen times, but nothing makes them happy."

  "Well, have you been feeling the soil or just putting water in?"

  "Feeling the soil?"

  She sighed and talked to him about his garden. Then, he asked her tons of questions about the medicinal uses of common pnts and praised her to such an effervescent degree that she had to change the topic.

  "But I'm being so rude," he finally said. "What was it you needed?"

  By then, they were sitting outside a small coffee shop. He insisted it was the best coffee and hadn't been ruined by popurity yet. Not like 'all those other ones.'

  "I was wondering," she asked," if you knew anything about a Bane named Wade?"

  "Wade," he said, and something about his tone was off. "Well, Blightbane Maslow," he rolled his eyes as he said the title, "isn't native. He came here maybe a year and a half ago. None of the other pros like him. Why do you care?"

  That seemed like a weird thing to say. Especially since she hadn't been here very long herself. But Nikko was strange and seemed like he was trying really hard to compensate for something. Not her business, though. So, she let it pass. "I might have a lead on something funky in the woods, and I'm hoping I can get a Bane who will cut me in on the reward."

  "Ahh, business, I see. Say no more. We all have our own ways of making money on the side."

  There was an awkward pause. Which she beted realized was an invitation for her to speak. "Oh! Yup. Business. You know me. So, what's the deal with him?"

  "Not much, I guess. Oh! But can you remind me ter? I actually might have a business-reted lead to pass on to you."

  She gave him a thumbs up and handed some cash to the waiter when they came out with her coffee. Nikko leaned back in his chair as his fancy, smoothy, and trendy brunch order was set in front of him. It seemed pretty extravagant considering the city-center prices. Maybe civil servants were just paid well.

  "I'll overlook you paying. But only this time."

  She just smiled.

  " Anyway," he continued, "there's not much to say about Wade. People think he's a bit of an ass. Just sorta looks down on everyone."

  "Is he fair?"

  Nikko shrugged, "Depends on who you ask. There are these two other Banes, Lucy, and her friend. You know, the big one? Lots of tattoos."

  "Can't say I do."

  Nikko brightened up. He leaned forward like he was going to rest a hand on hers, but she pulled them back and pretended to be checking her cell phone.

  "Lucy is great, "he said, not seeming to notice." Down to earth, bitchy, but only cause she doesn't bullshit. The four of us should hang out together sometime. There aren't many clubs here, but I swear, any party turns into an absolute rager if you have those two."

  Shilloh smiled, this time genuinely. For a second, she had been worried he might invite her to something that was actually fun. That would have made saying 'no' much harder.

  "Sorry, Nikko. I'm going to be really busy with the thing. But what were you saying, do they not like Wade?"

  "Not really, no," Nikko frowned. "And do you want anything to eat? It's on me."

  "I couldn't."

  "You're sure?"

  "Positive?"

  "Absolutely."

  "But like positive-positive?"

  Shilloh gently guided him back on track. Over the course of a 'quick lunch' (that sted nearly an hour), she gradually pulled information from him.

  Nikko mostly wanted to talk about dancing, pnts, and her hobbies. But she still learned that almost everyone other than Lucy thought Wade was fair and efficient. Nikko thought he was an ass, but he couldn't list any specific people who agreed with him. He just said 'everyone' knew as though that closed the matter. At the same time, Wade had been in no fights, there were no compints against him, and the city had even offered him nice gigs when the highest-rated Bane was otherwise occupied.

  "You'll spot him easily," the distractible clerk said. "He's a sorta grim dude who likes to look down his nose. Always has too many weapons on. Real overcompensate-y stuff too. Like a massive gun and a sword whenever he's in town. Also, he won't be alone."

  "Oh?"

  Apparently, he had come into town with a junior Bane named Jasque. They were roommates and inseparable.

  "Definitely butt buddies," Nikko smirked.

  She did not knock his food onto the pavement. But she wanted to.

  Nikko was just too valuable a contact. Plus, she had noticed people who were uncomfortable with their own sexuality tended to be the most aggressive about policing other people's. She couldn't smack him, and she didn't feel close enough with him to help him reconcile whatever personal fear was lurking under that comment. (Though she absolutely knew a guy or two that she would help set him up with.) That left being the bigger person as the only option.

  She extricated herself with effort.

  "No, Nikko, you're too sweet. But do take a picture of your flowers and send them my way. Lemme see the cucumbers, too. If the poppies aren't doing well, then they might be getting over-watered, too. It'll also tell me about the soil."

  "Fine, but—oh shit. Kora."

  Shilloh froze.

  Fucking Kora.

  She looked over her shoulder and saw a woman wearing incredibly tight leather shorts matched with a thin shirt that hugged her skin. It was printed with the words' deal with it' in hot pink cursive and made her pierced nipples painfully visible. She also wore long dangling golden earrings, one a hamsa and the other a hamsa-style middle finger.

  The woman stalked with apparent anger, which only grew worse when she saw the two of them. The vile mood distorted bubblegum pink lips with three grandmothers' worth of lip liner around the edges.

  "Nikko," Shilloh hissed," I need to go. She hates me, and I am not in the mood."

  Also, though Fraulein had wandered off to perch on a sun-heated sedan roof not far from her, there was no guarantee that the lynx wouldn't attack Coral if she tried to yell at Shilloh.

  She was getting ready for the mutton-chopped man across the table to demand to know the back story, maybe say something catty. But he didn't.

  "Go, I'll take one for the team."

  "Thank you," she said, grabbing her backpack and cpping him on the shoulder as she made her exit. "I owe you."

  Shilloh made her way down the street at a perfectly respectable power walk. She checked that Fraulein was following and slowly breathed a sigh of relief.

  The woman had decided that Shilloh was a lesser person because she had fed some meat from where Kora worked to Fraulein. Which might have been rude if it had been something other than an extra side of unseasoned, grilled chicken. She was probably just a cat hater.

  Now, every time Shilloh went to the restaurant the woman worked at, there was an endless parade of deys and passive-aggressive comments.

  It was painfully uncomfortable, and Shilloh absolutely hated to make a scene. In fact, just to be sure there was no confrontation, she crossed the street, slipped her way toward Nick's shop, and went between a few wizard stores that occasionally called out their doors asking her for help finding rare magical pnts (which may or may not be either carnivorous or illegal depending on a very complex set of factors).

  She looked down at the big cat walking next to her and said, "That was too close. I'm way too tired to deal with that. I might have cut someone. And Nick would flip his shit if he thought I was role-modeling casual violence to you."

  The cat looked up at her and opened its mouth like it was meowing, but no sound came out.

  "No, honey. We're not going to see Boyfriend-Nick. I am alive only by the grace of coffee. We gotta drive home before the caffeine wears off."

  Shilloh took a moment to stretch her back, look around her for a ndmark, and then ducked between two buildings so she could get closer to the parking lot. Two steps past the wall, she was treated to an interesting sight. Behind a store—one that had once bought a map from her leading to a very strange gde full of mutant bats—she saw someone handing off a monster corpse.

  He was taller than her by a good bit, and he was built. The man had on practical pants and a simple bck tee shirt. His shoulders were wide and filled with dense muscle. The top of the shirt was tight on his biceps and chest, while the rest cascaded loosely before being tucked into his pants. As he spoke to a store owner, little shifts revealed tantalizing hints of muscle pressed against fabric. None of it bulging and rippling like someone addicted to the gym. Instead, she peaked several stretches of working muscle that hinted at a wicked sort of capability.

  Under the shirt, he had on khaki cargo pants. The sort with pockets that were awesome when you were in the woods but looked goofy as soon as you went inside city limits. Or, at least, they should have looked goofy. The pants were loose enough to be practical but snug against big quads. They pulled tight on an ass that Shilloh, sleep-deprived as she was, thought might score well on a scale custom-made to measure how bitable something was: rocks being the worst, his ass being in the upper third, and tiramisu being the peak of the scale.

  The strange man nodded his head and pointed at a dead beaver the size of a pony lying on a tarp next to him. A faint dotting of blood on his face emphasized gray, piercing eyes. For a moment, she looked at his features and felt a little letdown. There was nothing worth biting up there—just an evenly proportioned face, lighter brown hair, and a pleasant-ish ck of fat.

  Then he cpped the beefy female shop owner on the shoulder and smiled.

  It changed everything. His cheekbones grew high, tiny ugh lines formed along his eyes, and he smiled an asymmetrical smile that lit up something in her stomach.

  She must have been staring because a third man she hadn't really noticed tapped on the first's shoulder. This one looked dangerous in a slinky, psycho-murder-ferret way. He was more traditionally attractive, with dark hair, the top buttons of his shirt open, and a glib smile that she could immediately tell was only surface-deep.

  The man with gray eyes lost his smile and turned to look at her. He raised an inquisitive eyebrow, face shutting down.

  "Are you the Wade Maslow I've been hearing so much about?" she asked before immediately wanting to kick herself.

  Who says that! Who said, 'I've heard so much about you' to a stranger? That was weird!

  "Yeah, Mr. Maslow," said the dark-haired murder-ferret one, with a mocking smile, "is that you?"

  For just a second, it seemed like Wade was about to ugh, but then his eyes danced over to the storekeeper. Cold professionalism locked down the st vestiges of that smile she had seen.

  "It's Raslow, ma’am. With an 'R' as in Romeo. Common mistake, though. How can I help you?"

  Shilloh did the only reasonable thing she could. She mentally gathered herself, did not think about how bitable Wade's ass looked on the Stanford Standard Bitablity Scale (patent pending), and said something absolutely normal.

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