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“They only serve beef and rice here,” a shaggy guy in dreads behind me said. “It’s athing.”
“Thanks for the tip.” I shooed him back to give me an appropriate three feet of personalspace.
Nin leaned into view, waving a slender arm and smiling. Her short black hair had been bleached as long as I’d known her, and this week, it was dyed purple. “It is not the usual hours for the special menu, but for a good client, of course, come inside,please.”
I left my puzzled advisor behind and waited at the side door until it opened. I stepped into a workspace that was more like a closet than a smithy, but all manner of completed rifles, pistols, and specialty pieces hung on pegboards. Boxes under the counters held stocks, barrels, and bolts, along with boxes of wildcat cartridges for the weapons. The place reverberated with magic, at least to mysenses.
Nin gave her assistant a few instructions and stepped inside with me, closing the door so the people waiting for food wouldn’t see this area. That made the tight space even tighter. I had to duck my head to keep from bumping it on theceiling.
“Thanks for slipping me in, Nin.” I pulled out Fezzik and showed her the bent front sight. “I probably could have used some pliers to fix it, but I didn’t know if that would void thewarranty.”
Her brow furrowed, but only for a second before she got the joke, then laughed. Even though Nin had only been in the country for five years, she’d about mastered American sarcasm and idioms, as far as I could tell. She spoke English slowly, but her words were precise and easy tounderstand.
“You are funny. What did you fight?” Nin took the gun from me and pulled out her tools. “Did my baby performwell?”
“It did. I got the last of the wyverns that killed those kids outside of Portland. And then I let a dragon throw mearound.”
The tool kit slipped from her fingers and clattered to the floor. I managed to catch Fezzik before it suffered a similarfate.
“A dragon?” Nin gaped at me. “You are jokingagain?”
“Unfortunately not.” I took out my phone and showed her pictures of my wrecked Jeep in the trees. It hadn’t occurred to me to stop and take a picture of the dragon himself—odd, I know—but I trusted the placement of the smashed vehicle would suffice as proof for most people. Not the insurance agents,alas.
Nin stared at the phone, stared back at my face, and then at the phone again. “You cannot fightdragons.”
“It wasn’t myintention.”
“I did not think there were dragons on Earth. I did not—do you think I need to put a warning on my weapons?” Nin glanced at the pegboards. “People will not believe they are strong enough to slay dragons, will they? They will get themselves killed. Then they will sue me. America isverylitigious.”
“I’ve heard that, but since the official stance from the government is that magic and magical beings don’t exist, I think you’ll be allright.”
Nin grabbed a pad of sticky notes. “I am going to start putting a warning on all weapons Isell.”
“That’s a good idea, but could you fix mine first? And give me a few more boxes of your special ammo? I had to use more than expected on thewyvern.”
“Yes, certainly.” Nin, her tongue stuck in the corner of her mouth, proceeded to draw a stick dragon with a circle around it and a line through it before retrieving her tools and working on my gun. “Take what cartridges you need from that box, please.” She pointed withoutlooking.
“How’s business?” I wondered how many clients she had who knew what she did when she wasn’t mixing sauces and grilling beef—and how many were likely to go on a dragon safari with herweapons.
“Business is good. I am saving my money and thinking of opening a restaurant nextyear.”
That wasn’t the business I’d meant, but I asked, “Will it have more than one entree on themenu?”
“In my country, it is very common to perfect one dish and sell onlythat.”
“I guess that’s ano.”
“I am thinking of adding a gluten-free sauceoption.”
The assistant opened the door far enough to hand me the food I’d ordered. I dug out ten dollars for the meal and a hundred for the repair service. Nin, I knew, wouldn’t charge me for anything but the ammo, so I stuck the cash on a shelf when she wasn’t payingattention.
My phone buzzed. The number wasn’t familiar, but it was a local areacode.
I answered, hoping the therapist was calling to cancel my appointment. “Yeah?”
“Ms. Thorvald?” a young male voice askeduncertainly.
“Good guess. Who’sthis?”
