"You," Birch pointed at Shilloh, "The drug detector three thousand, the dealer diviner, and she who thought Nikko was an awkward gay man pretending to be straight; you think that I'm selling drugs?"

  The dryad grit her teeth. She fucking hated this. But it was what a friend had to do. Even if her friend was trying to divert the conversation by being a bitch.

  Mocking or not, it made sense. Birch never discussed her work; she just said she was a businesswoman. She partied hard, like real hard. To the point where she seemed to think bar fights were hilarious. Shilloh had also seen her passing a vial of some unknown substance to a man who moved a caravan up and down the region. On top of that, she knew about the local drug dealer and his side piece.

  Perhaps Birch was a high-functioning user, but the expensive outfits and her general sense of efficient remorselessness led Shilloh to think that Birch would be more likely to be a dealer than a user.

  So she lifted her chin and held the other woman's eyes. "I saw you trying to covertly pass a vial of something, and you've been trying to be real subtle about meeting with him since. Maybe I'm wrong, but it's not something I can keep as a 'maybe' in good conscience."

  Birch's expression was hard to read; a mixture of laughter, fondness, and something else. "Alright, serious face," the woman said, biting the inside of her cheek until she had her expression under control. "Shilloh, I swear on Agne's life and every drop of tequila that ever has or will exist that I am not selling recreational drugs. I am also not engaging in recreational drugs other than alcohol and occasional THC when I reconnect with some old friends."

  She really wished her magical instincts were able to tell her about this. But she was forced to address her doubt, obligation, and fear of pushing away a friend on her own.

  "I want to believe you, but what did I see on the first day?"

  "I'll ask if he's okay with me sharing the details, but until then, the only thing I can tell you is that we are bringing a non-addictive medicine to people in need."

  "So you're Robin Hood now?"

  "No. It's not stealing. It's just a medicine that the military always buys in bulk. The price is too high for regular folks unless you know a few independent places that do good production work, but, for their own reasons, are willing to sell at a lower cost for increased privacy."

  Well, shit. What the fuck was she supposed to do with that? Birch seemed honest, and it was technically possible. But how did she prove it? Did Shilloh need to prove it?

  She took a deep breath and centered herself. There were really only three important questions here: did Birch want help, did Birch need help to the degree that what she wanted did not matter, and had Shilloh done enough to sleep soundly if Birch took party drugs and died of dehydration when she forgot to stop dancing.

  When she thought about it that way, the answer was clear.

  "You know that I'm here if you want to talk, right?"

  "Shilloh," her friends laughed, "I promise—"

  She held up her hand and interrupted, "Stop, please. I need to have done this. Serious face for just a bit longer, please."

  "Okay, fine."

  "Thank you. If you want to talk, I am here. If you do take something, please let me know. Even if it's prescription. I want to look out for you and be a good friend to you. Also, if you could help me understand what I saw, then it would be appreciated. Because all of this sounds a bit strange. That being said, I'm not your boss or your Dad. I can't tell you what to do. You just need to know that I dislike hard drugs. I dislike any dangerous use of substances, and generally prefer not to be around it."

  "That it?"

  "Almost. If you want to trip balls for an important spiritual or healing reason, then tell me. I know people who know how to do it right."

  Birch nodded, "Okay. Heard, acknowledged, and appreciated. I'll ask before the party and show you what I'm doing once we're in town."

  "Thank you."

  Birch's composure broke, "Aww, how could I say no to such a cutie patooty who's all worried for me! I mean, just look at you with your widdle frown and your widdle speech!"

  Things degraded from there. Partially because Shilloh responded to the mockery in a similar fashion. But also because Birch started reading their current book out loud—asking her questions about if she thought all Weres, even ones they knew, were that into rough sex— and got a little too into voice acting.

  Shilloh chose violence at that point, and no meaningful conversation ensued.

  ~~~

  The next day, she, Scotty, and Birch were all waiting by Wade's tent. Though Birch was very into her book and more or less just sat in their general vicinity while they waited for their guest of honor.

  He was out training with Jasque, and once he came around the bend, they were going to pretend like Scotty hadn't replaced all his underwear with antique boxers showing a comic character called The Wolverine.

  As a wolverine shifter, this was nothing new for Wade. Probably happened a couple times. Still, you can't knock it out of the park every day.

  "That was a PR, wasn't it?" she asked her trainer, referencing their last exercise.

  "Yeah, but your calories don't count if you were using magic."

  "That's bullshit! You told me magic was allowed."

  He gave her a very judgmental look and went back to filling out their little training notepad with his fussy handwriting. "Then you tell me how we'll calculate the calories fairly?"

  She sputtered until the realization hit her. "You son of a succubus, you did this on purpose. You're cheating!"

  "And you're spending too much time with Wade. Who says son of a succubus?"

  "I'd call you a son of a bitch if I didn't like dogs so much."

  He waved her off, "You're in the big leagues now. Gotta think three steps ahead."

  She glowered, and he smirked. Shilloh quietly resolved to melt a stick of butter and mix it into his coffee. "Whatever, it was still a personal record. You owe me an answer."

  He nodded his assent graciously. "And you're still looking for information that will help you avoid anxiety spiraling?"

  "I wouldn't call it a spiral. I just want to know what my next five years might look like." That was not the best question to ask in public, where she could be overheard. But she trusted him to circle back and tell her anything in private that he had been forced to avoid." I never imagined myself being a bane."

  If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  "Why not?"

  "Hunting can be fun, but the parts of it that are fun to me are more about the nature and less about the killing. Being in a killing-centric job seemed like it might be a bad fit."

  The other man nodded his head a few times before putting up the notebook and turning to face her. "That actually lines up with what I wanted to talk to you about. But, before we go there, let me ask you something first: why is it a killing-centric job and not a saving lives-centric job?"

  Oh. That was a tough one to discuss tactfully. Especially with a person who was themselves a bane and might be very invested in the thought of their work saving lives. Though, to be fair, she had seen him talk to a sentient crypto and treat it with compassion. He had been willing to defend it. He might not be the average Bane.

  "I think," she cautiously said, "that it's a matter of perspective. I imagine going out as a bane and being focused on what I need to do to make something dead. In contrast, I imagine a doctor or paramedic has more daily thoughts on the way to work about actions directly related to sustaining life."

  "Fair. But what I think you could focus on is twofold. First, you don't know what job you'll be offered. This is a job fair for you. It just so happens that your competency and ability to obtain a security clearance are being vouched for, so you're entering a secret job fair. Which guarantees that your pay will be high no matter what. That's the first thing, think of this more as a job fair than anything else."

  That would bear some thought. It also made her feel a bit better about the lack of knowledge.

  "So you're saying that I'm just going to walk into a job fair with a bunch of high-paying jobs."

  "More than that. I can guarantee that there will always be a space for a cartographer who can effortlessly avoid cryptos and has the necessary clearance to be sent out to strategic locations. When in doubt, just know that it's your safe backup. I'm sure you can imagine your life with that kind of work."

  "Yeah, but Sam talked to me about paychecks that are huge. I mean like, huge. I want to know what I'd have to do to get in on those types of jobs."

  Scotty shook his head and smiled. "You know, when I was growing up, my Mom's friend made a shit ton of money. Know what she did?"

  "Killed hydras?"

  "Sold timeshares!" Birch chirped in from where she had sat nearby.

  "No, she did therapy evaluations for a high-stress department where everyone had top secret clearance."

  Shilloh frowned, "And they paid her a bunch because it's hard to get that clearance?"

  He nodded, "Yup. Also, because people from a bunch of different sectors talked to her about a bunch of different secret things. She was such a goldmine of classified information that they had to make sure that she would never be interested in a bribe or want to leave her role."

  Shilloh's expression was skeptical, and Scotty clearly saw that. "What I'm trying to say is that just the places a highly trusted cartographer is sent to could reveal seriously important patterns and need serious clearance. That job is probably closer to the paychecks you're hoping for than you'd think. Which leads me to my second point, these interviews are also about you testing someone for the role of your boss. They want you enough to pay for this caravan ticket; don't come in with he mindset of a pauper hoping for a favor."

  "I know. That's what everyone says about interviews. But there is an actual power dynamic here. There are things I want to do with that money. There are people I could really help."

  "Good!" Scotty said. "Focus on that. You're coming in with confirmed skills and a rare ability to get security clearance. Your mindset and thoughts about the mission might be the biggest factor they still need to explore."

  "So what, I should prepare a speech about the people I want to help?"

  "Not necessarily. I'd say it might be more important to learn about what the Blight Banes do and relate that to your goals. Maybe, see if there isn't somewhere you want to get involved. A place ("In Forsythe," Birch added) where you think your skills would make a real difference."

  "Okay, got any suggestions?"

  "Yes."

  There was a long pause.

  "Are you going to share with the class?"

  "Nope," he chirped. "Not until your next PR."

  Wade came to his tent in time to see Shilloh chasing down Scotty. She had tried to put him in a headlock and wet-willy him until she got her information, but he had turned things around.

  Turned out he was weirdly good at wrestling because of martial arts training or whatever.

  With Birch there, the dryad couldn't use super strength, and he just tied her up in knots while talking like a secret kung-fu master from the movies.

  She was squirmy and had taken pride in her wrestling. But he was always laughing and grabbing something in a way that strangled her, bent her limbs in weird directions, or tricked her into spinning herself face-first into the ground.

  Unfortunately for him, Scotty was ticklish, and she played dirty. Which somehow turned into her being taught how to do double and single-leg takedowns. At the same time, Birch discussed an erotica novel with him that heavily featured tickle torture in its spicy scenes.

  That was the scene their friendly neighborhood Were wolverine walked into. Luckily, after a few weeks of their shenanigans, Wade knew precisely how to address the situation.

  He plugged his ears, hummed to himself, and stepped into his tent to change out of his workout clothes without acknowledging them.

  He jumped out with no shirt on and a pair of comic book underwear in his hands, seconds later.

  "What the fuck, guys!"

  Shilloh did not immediately apply with her usual scathing wit. She was a bit distracted. Some people looked better with clothes on: it complemented their aura and streamlined their bodies. Wade was not one of those people. Less really was more with him.

  Fuck. She might actually need to develop that biteability scale. If she patented it, then she could be rich without having to train all this bullshit wrestling.

  Scotty grinned at her. She quickly ducked her head back into position for a single-leg takedown, since she should not have been able to see his face at all if she was doing it right. But it was too late. With a quick shift of weight, he canceled out Shilloh's takedown attempt, bumped her head to the other side with his leg, locked his arms in a weird configuration under hers, and fell backwards in such a way that she was tossed over him as he backrolled.

  "Like your new undies?" he said, rolling to his feet without any apparent exertion.

  She landed on the grass with a whumf and groaned. More out of exhaustion than pain, though.

  "I don't care about the undies," Wade said, sounding legitimately upset. "Why the fuck did you hide Fraulein in my cot? She could have gotten hurt!"

  The cat in question poked her nose out of the tent, sniffed a few times, and head butted Wade before retreating back onto his sleeping bag.

  Shilloh did not get up, but she did call out a response. "We didn't hide her. She must have gotten in herself. By the way, Fraulein is here. Somehow. Fuck if I know how."

  There was a rumbling sound as well as the unmistakable hissing of something dragging along the synthetic material of a tent.

  "Also," she added. "I believe the madam is telling you to get into your tent so she has something warm to sleep on."

  Wade looked up at the sky and sighed. With no shirt on, the trapezius muscles in his neck stood out. It was a good look for him. With a neck that big, she didn't think she could wrap her hands around it. She'd need to use her legs if she ever wanted to strangle him.

  The man did not have washboard abs, but bore a single smooth stretch of stomach, a distinct V of muscle leading to his pants, and a light dusting of body hair. As he moved, his muscles shifted with liquid grace. For brief moments, his abs would peak out, and the big muscles of his shoulders and arms would break into smaller bundles, separated by dramatic lines of shadow, before relaxing back into his murderously streamlined strength. It was the perfect balance of fit, strong, and attractive without him being so lean that he looked uncomfortable to cuddle with.

  As if to second her assessment, Birch tossed a one-dollar bill she had quickly folded into an airplane at Wade.

  "Take it off!"

  He closed his eyes and slowly breathed out again, "No need to be crass."

  "Shit, you don't even need to buy me dinner."

  Rather than feed into the beast that was Birch's unending need for amusement, he fought back by wiping his hand across his face and flicking some of the sweat at her.

  Birch flinched back, covering her book with her body. Personally, Shilloh let herself zone out as her three friends bantered and talked. Wade told Scotty that he was increasing his workouts due to the travel. Then he nervously asked Scotty if he knew where the healer was and if Jasque had talked to her about some blisters he was getting from a loose set of running shoes.

  Something about it felt off, but before she could ask any questions, Scotty had moved on to letting the grey-eyed man know he would only get his underwear back if he went out dancing with them at the next town.

  Birch made fun of Wade when he protested that Jasque wouldn't like it. Eventually, a deal was struck.

  Scotty was going to use some blight bane facilities in that town, so Shilloh could decide between a couple of latrine gun options. Wade would accompany them, restock on some special ammunition, and they would do some firearms training together as they travelled.

  "Alright," Wade said. "I think that's okay. But we're not going to eat anything super crazy or drink too much, right?"

  "Come on," Shilloh said, pushing herself into a sitting position. "We're bringing Agnes with us. How wild do you think we can get while traveling with a woman from the retirement home I volunteer at?"

  Wade's tension lessened even as Birch and Scotty's smiles gained a few extra teeth.

  NO AI TRAINING: Without in any way limiting the author’s [and publisher’s] exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.

  Piracy Notice: If you’re reading this anywhere other than Scribble Hub, Royal Road, or my Patreon then this is pirated. Please let me know by going to the Jeffrey Nix website’s contact area so I can get really annoyed, complain to my cat, have her tell me this never would have happened if I had just gone back for a Ph. D, send a takedown notice, and get back to writing.