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“Not ofpeople.” I lifted my hands. “Of magical beings that come to our world and commit crimes against people. Like the wyverns in the news a couple of weeks ago.” I hoped she wasn’t going to be one of those nuts who denied that such creatures existed. The mainstream news didn’t cover them, but there were millions of social media posts and videos online. If she thought those were all hoaxes, I might end up with a fistful of drug prescriptions and an appointment in a sanitarium. Could medical professionals without fancy higher degrees prescribedrugs?
“I see.” Mary picked up the pen. “You don’t count them as people? Aren’t some of them intelligent with languages and cultures of theirown?”
“They usually have languages, yes. We don’t talk about their art preferences and religious beliefs before I shootthem.”
At least she didn’t deny that the magical existed. Unless she was humoring me. I squinted at her. She’d lost some of her unfazed expression and was tapping the pen on hernotepad.
“Most of my contracts come from the government,” I said, deciding that flippancy might get me in trouble. “And even with the ones that don’t, I do my research and make sure they’ve committed crimes—usually, they’re horrible crimes, like killing and eating people—before going after them. I don’t bug anyone who’s just hanging out here onEarth.”
“It’s my understanding that these beings are essentially illegal immigrants, here without permission and not granted rights by most of ourgovernments.”
“Yes.” I was relieved she had some factsright.
“And we lack a way to deport them, so it can be difficult to deal withthem.”
“Yes.”
“Are they granted trials or a kind of unprejudiced judgment before you’re sent in to executethem?”
“Not typically.” I shrugged. “It’s not my job to questionthat.”
“Hm.” For the first time, she scribbled something on hernotepad.
Herwriting wasn’t firm. Which was too bad, because I would have had to climb into her lap to read hernotes.
I frowned at her, tension replacing my relief. “Are you supposed to judge me? Is this like with the pen out there?” I jerked a thumb toward thedoor.
She looked confused as she followed my pointing thumb, but she recovered quickly. “I apologize if you feel that I’m judging you. That’s not my intent. I’m trying to understand your job so I can see how it could be a source of stress foryou.”
“Well, it’s like this: on Friday night, while you were going home to be with your family, a dragon threw my Jeep twenty feet up in a tree. That was after I climbed down a cliff, risking falling to my death, to get in a fight with a wyvern, who could have killed me with her poisonous blood even if her beak, talons, and psionic powers hadn’t been enough. Also, I don’t think my insurance is going to cover the loss of my Jeep.” What did it say about me thatthatbothered me more than any of the otherstuff?
“Those do sound like harrowing events, and I’m sorry you had a rough fewdays.”
The sympathy surprised me, though I supposed deflecting and defusing anger was what therapists were allabout.
I settled back in the chair. “Thankyou.”
“Would you say that was a typical week foryou?”
“The wyverns, yes. The dragon and the Jeep, not so much. The week before, assassins broke into my apartment and tried to kill me in my sleep. But I was awake, since I hardly ever sleep anymore, enjoying some hot cocoa, so I shot them before they got me. The week before that, I was up by Stevens Pass killing a sasquatch that was eatinghikers.”
She scribbled more notes. “Do you enjoy yourwork?”
“Not that many people are qualified to do it, and I’m good atit.”
Her eyebrows took anotherclimb.
“It takes someone with a recent magical ancestor to sense magic and the magical. My father was an elf. Or maybe stillisan elf. I don’t know much about him. My mom said he took off in the mass migration that left the world free of elves anddwarves.”
I hadn’t meant to talk about my family. I frowned, not sure whether she’d tricked me or I’d betrayed myself. When I’d been younger, I’d dreamed of my father coming to visit, of meeting him and finding out what he was like, but I’d long since gotten over that. Maybe I’d speculated a bit in my early twenties, when I’d finally come to believe he was an elf, but I didn’t care anymore. He had left Earth, and I was never going to meet him, and that was just how itwas.
“So you’re good at your job, and that makes you feel compelled to doit.”
“Yes.”
“Would you do it if you were mediocre atit?”
“If I were mediocre at it, I’d bedead.”
