“I think you shouldn’t worry about me or Miriam,” Wolfe said. “Do what your soul calls you to do.”

“In my soul, I want to be the light to your dark,” Shel said. “You once told me that it was my job to save people. I guess I like our roles. You slay those that would break people, keep me safe… and I heal the broken ones. Maybe it’s not the strongest path, or the smartest. It probably isn’t. But it’s the one that calls to me the most.”

“Then why did you become a police officer?” Miriam asked, sounding more curious than judgmental.

“I could do so right away, or near enough,” Shel said. “Being a nurse, or more so, a doctor, takes a long time. Plus, officers still save people, and can respond to emergencies as well. Plus, I don’t want to be hopelessly weak, I just don’t want to make my entire focus around fighting people.”

“So, are you going to alter your deck, then?” Wolfe asked.

“Let me think about it a bit,” Shel said. “I mean, I want to, but I want to think about the leveling specifics a bit more. I think we should see how the rest of this dungeon turns out before I pick leveling perks and finalize my cards for a while.”

“I’m gonna add the Xolo Spirit-Warder into my subdeck, in place of the Chain Demon,” Wolfe said.

“For me, I’m just gonna add the Camazotz to my deck now. I think it already fits, and requires no leveling pips,” Miriam said.

“Alright, well, with those less-than massive changes, I think we should take a break,” Wolfe said.

“Boo!” Miriam called out excitedly. “We’re kicking ass. We just handled a Level Twenty-Eight encounter! We could go all the way!”

"That’s what she said?” Shel asked with a chuckle.

Miriam paused. “By the gods, I can’t believe I didn’t do that intentionally. I’m losing game.”

Wolfe cut in. “Look, I want to switch in Liam for Derek—apologies, man, but I need him to get some levels too.”

“Yeah, no, don’t even worry about it,” Derek said, smiling at Wolfe with perfect white teeth. “You told me one floor and gave me two and I made over ten levels. I’m crazy excited, thank you. Heck, I’ll probably be picking my own level twenty-five perks soon at this rate.”

“Boo!” Miriam called again, but she was half-laughing. “We can do it!”

“Hey, fair’s fair,” Wolfe said, as casually as he could. “You got some great cards. Speaking of which, I have some chores I want to do. Can you take Shel home with you?”

“Home with Miriam?” Shel asked, baffled. “What chores do you have?”

“Just some stuff I need to take care of,” Wolfe said nonchalantly, rubbing his hand through his short hair.

“Why didn’t you tell me before we left?” Shel asked.

“Look, I don’t do this often, can I just take the truck and have Miriam take you home?” Wolfe asked.

“I mean, yeah, that’s totally fine,” Shel said. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to nag, just confused.”

“Thanks,” Wolfe said. “I appreciate it. Also, please, keep Fern with you. I owe you one.”

“Nah, I think some girl time together could be great,” Shel said, smiling at Miriam.

“Ah yeah,” Miriam said. “We’ll hit all the clubs.”

“Or we could talk in your club,” Shel said.

“Fine, fine, ya killjoy. We’ll just hang at my club.”

“Well, you two work it out. I’m sure between you, you can have fun without breaking something serious. But let’s get out of here, I have something I need to do.”

Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

Something I have no idea how to do.

***

“Mrs Timo!” Wolfe shouted as he banged the giant front door of the Hellmouth Institute open. “Mrs. Timo!”

“I’m in here, Wolfe. No need to shout,” Mrs. Timo said from the room she used to receive the ten or so non-government clients they’d had since they opened their P.I. business.

Wolfe walked in. She was behind the computer again, leaned back, moving the mouse slowly and occasionally clicking something. A glass of water was beading on the infernal-themed desk the computer was on. It looked like she had barely sipped at it.

Wolfe frowned. She’s playing solitaire again. On the other hand, I haven’t given her any work, and the girls aren’t home from school yet, so…

He shook his head. It didn’t matter, and he had other things to ask.

“You were married once, right?” Wolfe asked.

Mrs. Timo looked up from the computer. Normally, her sun-dried skin looked like it was set in permanent laugh lines, and she smiled easily. But at the moment, one eyebrow was up.

She lowered her glasses and stared over the rim at him. “So, what brought this up.”

“Never mind that,” Wolfe said, waving off the question. “Just, were you married?”

“Yes, of course,” she said. “We didn’t do the whole out-of-wedlock thing in my time.”

Wolfe laughed mirthlessly. “I’m pretty sure your time was still after the sixties, and they certainly did that then. But again, never mind. Just tell me this: how did your husband propose to you?”

“Ol’ Jack?” she smiled in reminiscence, settling back in her chair again but still staring at Wolfe over the rim of her glasses. “Well, it was very romantic. He took me out on his boat, you know. I thought he was going to spend some time fishing with me, but instead, when he opened up his tackle box, there was a ring. He got down on his knees right there and held it out to me.”

“It was romantic when the ring was in the bait with his fish?” Wolfe asked.

“Well, we were both in the fish business, way back in the day. That’s how we met, in fact, you jumped up hooligan,” Mrs. Timo said.

Wolfe frowned. “You don’t use the word ‘Hooligan,’ normally. You’re just playing around. I really need to know.”

Mrs. Timo rolled her eyes again. “I was telling the truth. I was trying to say that it was romantic to me, or at least special in that it referenced how we’d first met. I guess that’s what’s important—it needs to be romantic or special to Shel.”

“I didn’t say anything about Shel,” Wolfe replied.

“Sure, hon, whatever you say. I won’t tell Shel, don’t worry.”

Wolfe glanced around in panic. “Shh! Stop saying it out loud, you old bat.”

Mrs. Timo laughed. “Good thing you pay me to play solitaire with a mouth like that. Most people would take offense.”

Wolfe felt his frustration rising—he hated being in situations where ‘being able to punch someone’ didn’t establish who was polite to who.

But he tried—Mrs. Timo was a nice old bat. Even if she was one. “Sorry. I’ll keep it together better. But if we’re talking about this, um, theoretical situation, then I’d like to ask, theoretically, what you think Shel would like.”

Mrs. Timo picked up her glass of water, frowned at it, and then gave it a wipe with a handkerchief she pulled from a pocket. Who still uses handkerchiefs?

“Well, where did you meet? Maybe you could propose to her there,” Mrs. Timo said, taking a sip of her water.

Wolfe’s mind briefly jumped to the Snakebite club where he had killed the Cobra lieutenant Frankie.

“I, um, kinda burned it to the ground,” Wolfe replied.

Mrs. Timo laughed, sucked water into some part it didn’t belong, coughed, and sprayed water across the computer screen in a fine mist. She kept coughing and laughing, half-choking, while trying to dab the water away from the screen with her already damp handkerchief. Wolfe ran over and pounded her back, not knowing what else to do.

“Stop,” Mrs. Timo coughed again and waved her arms at Wolfe. “Stop hitting me. Hurts worse than the water in my lungs. I’m a frail old bat, dammit, remember?”

Wolfe took a step back. “Yeah, sorry, I was trying to help.”

Mrs. Timo ignored him. “Also, I can’t help but say—of course you burned it to the ground.”

“Haha,” Wolfe said deadpan. “But seriously, what other advice do you have?”

“The same advice. Just find something special to both of you, and build your proposal around that. I mean, you’re over six feet, you have way more than six figures, and I’m sure you’re—”

She pointed vaguely at his groin.

“I’m not talking about that with someone’s grandma,” Wolfe ground out.

“Whatever. You aren’t the worst looking, either. I’m sure if you just manage not to completely muck it up Shel will be happy to marry you. Just go get a great ring and do it halfway right.”

“I don’t want to do it halfway right. Maybe you’re onto something, but Shel deserves more than my usual stupid-ass way of doing these things. I need a better proposal than anything I’ve thought of so far.”

“Okay, how did you meet?”

“We haven’t told you that story in the whole year you’ve been here?” Wolfe asked, scratching his head. “Well, um, I saved her from getting a different kind of six—six feet under.”

“Always with the cringy one-liner,” Mrs. Time said. Then it was her turn to scratch her head. “Well, I doubt ‘saving her life’ is a reasonably duplicatable situation, so I guess it’ll need to be something else.”

Wolfe frowned. “Well, what about the ring?”

“I know how much you have in the bank,” Mrs. Timo said. “More importantly, Shel knows how much you have. Big ol’ rock.”

“Right, right. Where can I get a good ring?”

Mrs. Timo rolled her eyes at him. “For that, you have the internets.”

“Some secretary you are.”