The Feldman Place

  I finished the last of the meal without rushing it. When I was done, I wiped my hands on the napkin and stood just as Mabel came by to clear the plate.

  "That treat you right?" she asked.

  "Yeah," I replied. "Better than right. Thank you."

  I set a dollar, a dime, and two quarters on the table. The dollar was the only small bill that had been in the bag along with some change. I had pulled it from my inventory and into my hand when I saw her walking up to the table. It was more than the bill needed, but not so much it would raise questions.

  She saw it and shook her head. "Oh, I can't take that, hon. That's too much."

  "Don't worry about it. It wasn't just for the meal. It was for the conversation and the tip about the bed and breakfast. I'm planning on coming back."

  Her smile lingered longer this time. "Well… in that case, I'll make sure we've got somethin' good on the griddle next time you walk in."

  "Looking forward to it."

  She gathered the money and the dishes, and I stepped away from the booth.

  "Ready?" he asked.

  "Yeah."

  We stepped out into the cold. His car was parked along the street, a used Ford that had seen plenty of weather. The doors creaked when we climbed in, and the air inside was colder than out. Cars in this era weren't much help when it came to keeping warm.

  He got the engine going, and the car shuddered before settling. We pulled away from the diner and headed out toward the edge of town.

  "Name's Callahan," he said as we reached a clearer stretch of road. "Travelin' salesman. Mostly hardware. Sometimes tools. Whatever folks need."

  "Jarek Donati. Private investigator. Or at least I will be. I'm setting up an office in town."

  He gave me a short nod, the kind a man gives when something makes sense to him. "Work like that keeps you busy around places like this. There’s plenty of people who want things looked into. But not a lot of people around here are really interested in having the police or feds snooping around."

  "That's what I'm counting on."

  He eased the car along the dark stretch of road. The cold slid in through the doors, and neither of us bothered trying to chase it out.

  "You know the town's had more visitors than usual," Callahan said as we drove on. "It feels different than it did a month ago. If places like this keep growing, one day I'm afraid we won't have any of these small towns anymore. But I got to tell you it seems like things are a little busier than usual around here. Mabel wasn't kidding, I’m thinking you made a good choice heading out towards the bed and breakfast. Besides Mrs Feldman's a real peach."

  I kept my voice neutral. "So it's not usually this busy then? Is there some kind of event or something going on?"

  He shrugged. "Hard to say. People come through for all kinds of reasons. Could be nothing." He paused. "Most of the attention's on the Breen lately. A lot of out-of-towners staying there. Meetings, I'd guess. Business types."

  "I noticed it wasn't fully open yet when I passed by earlier." I said.

  "It's not supposed to be. But Rumor has It, someone paid old Harrison a small fortune to open early for certain guests." He glanced at me briefly. "Seems like everybody's got their business to attend to, and folks around here keep things close, if you know what I mean."

  “Of course they told Harrison not to tell anybody. So naturally the whole town knows!” Callahan said with a laugh.

  I knew exactly what he was talking about. He was talking about moonshine. The whole town probably had a hand in it one way or another, and nobody wanted federal agents asking questions.

  The Feldman place came into view after a few more minutes. A wide old house with a sturdy porch and a faint glow in the windows.

  Callahan pulled up near the front walk. "Here you are."

  "Thank you for the ride."

  "Anytime. Might see you at breakfast if you're an early riser."

  "We'll see," I said.

  I stepped out into the cold and headed up the walk. The front door opened before I even knocked, and an older woman stood there with a polite smile.

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  "Evening Mr. Are you looking for a room?" she asked.

  "Yes, ma'am. If you've got one left."

  "Just one," she said. "You're in luck."

  I paid for two nights up front. She counted the money carefully, nodded, and slid it into her apron.

  "Breakfast is at seven sharp," she said. "Coffee's strong, and nobody leaves hungry."

  "That sounds perfect."

  She pointed out the room, wished me a good rest, and left me to it.

  I stepped inside, shut the door behind me, and took in the space. It was small, clean, and warm enough, and for the first time since arriving in this town, I felt like I didn't have to look over my shoulder. I slid off my shoes and laid back on the bed and pulled that window back up.

  Remy materialized at the foot of the bed, settling onto the wooden frame with his small legs dangling over the edge. Az appeared beside him, arms crossed.

  "Five points to spend," Az said. "Don't fuck it up."

  "That's helpful, thanks," I muttered, propping myself up on one elbow.

  Remy's voice was quieter, more measured. "Nephilim, before you make any decisions, you should understand what each attribute actually does. The System uses these numbers to define your capabilities, but they represent more than simple measurements."

  "All right. Walk me through it then."

  Remy gestured toward the floating window. "Strength measures your physical power. Raw force. When you swing that blade, when you lift something heavy. That's Strength. It also increases your melee damage and feeds into your Fury pool. Every point you add makes your strikes hit harder and gives you more Fury to draw from."

  "That makes sense," I said, sitting up fully and swinging my legs over the side of the bed.

  "Dexterity is precision and speed," Remy continued. "Your reflexes. How quickly you can draw a weapon, how accurately you can fire a gun. It also affects your Stamina pool—the energy you use for physical actions. The calculation is your Fortitude multiplied by two, plus your Dexterity."

  Az cut in. "Translation: if you want to move fast and not get hit, pump Dexterity. If you want to hit like a truck, pump Strength. It;s pretty simple, even for you."

  I shot him a look. "What about Fortitude?"

  "Fortitude is your durability," Remy explained. "Your ability to withstand pain, resist poison, endure corruption. It directly determines your Health—ten points per level of Fortitude. It also feeds into your Stamina pool, as I mentioned. A higher Fortitude means you can take more punishment and keep fighting."

  "So if I want to survive getting shot, I need Fortitude."

  "Correct."

  I stood up and walked to the window, looking out at the dark street below. "And Mind?"

  "Mind governs your capacity for mana and your connection to the Arcane," Remy explained. "It determines your Mana pool—five points per level of Mind. It also affects your Grace, your resistance to mental intrusion, and your ability to perceive angelic or demonic influence. Without a strong Mind, you'll be vulnerable to corruption or purification."

  Az grinned. "And let's be real, Mud—you started with a three. That's embarrassing."

  "I'm aware," I said dryly, turning back to face them. “So if I don't want angels or demons messing with my head, I need Mind."

  "Partially," Remy said. "But Instinct plays a role as well. Instinct is your awareness. Your ability to sense danger, to read a room, or when something is wrong. It helps you see hidden truths and resist illusions. The Lumen Sight ability you gained from my path is enhanced by Instinct—the higher it is, the more clearly you'll see through deception."

  "That sounds useful," I said, pacing slowly across the small room.

  "Finally," Remy said, "there is Dominance. This is your presence. Your force of personality. When you intimidate someone, when you command a room, when you exert your will over another—Dominance is what makes them listen. It's also tied to certain supernatural abilities. Both angelic and demonic powers that involve control or coercion scale with Dominance."

  I stopped pacing and stared at the numbers on the screen. Five points. Five chances to make myself less likely to die.

  "So what do you recommend?" I asked.

  Az and Remy exchanged a glance.

  "That depends," Remy said carefully, "on what you believe you'll need most in the coming days."

  "You're in a town full of possessed mobsters," Az said. "You're about to start asking questions that are going to piss off both sides. And you're Level Two. If something goes sideways, you need to be able to either fight your way out or survive long enough to run."

  "Im thinking Fortitude," I said.

  "Smart," Az said. "Bloodlash is your only real offensive ability right now. You should probably look into putting points into the attributes that are going to give you the most health and stamina anyway."

  "And Mind," Remy added. "Your Mana pool is limited. I'm really hoping that Arcane-Rune is going to give you another offensive ability, or at least a defensive one, like a shield or something. And if it does, you're definitely going to want more Mana."

  I rubbed my face with both hands. "This is a lot."

  "Nephilim, I think you should put three points into fortitude and two points into mind. This will bring your fortitude to eight and your mind to five."

  I looked at Az and was surprised to see him agree.

  "All right, you guys, I'm going to do that then," I said as I focused on the window and added three points to fortitude and two to mind. I felt my entire body lurch as I fell to my knees next to the bed. I waited for the pain to become absolutely overwhelming like it did last time, trying to prepare myself and throwing my face into the pillow on the bed in case I screamed. But it never happened. My muscles relaxed and the pain eased.

  I took a deep breath. "I don't understand why it didn't overwhelm me again?"

  "I'm not sure," Remy said. "It could be that assigning attributes does not have the same physical effect as accepting racial skills. Or it could be that increasing your Fortitude has already made your body more tolerant of change."

  I pushed myself up off the floor and sat on the edge of the bed, letting everything settle.

  My body felt solid. Dense. I flexed my hand and the movement felt different—stronger, more controlled. I took a deep breath and it filled my lungs completely, no catch, no strain. The aches I'd been carrying since Purgatory were just... gone.

  But the mind thing was what caught me off guard.

  The fog lifted. Thoughts seemed to just click into place. Details I would've missed before stood out sharper. Connections formed faster. It wasn't like I'd suddenly become some genius—I was still me. Everything just... worked better.

  "Well," I said, looking at Az and Remy. "That wasn't so bad."

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