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I’d been twenty-one and not-dying of what should have been mortal wounds after a helicopter crash before I’d believed my mother’s story that I had an elf for a father. After that, I’d accepted it and learned to appreciate the handful of atypical aptitudes it gave me, such as the ability to heal quickly from wounds. Already, the acid burns in my skin had stopped hurting. That didn’t mean I could survive having a dragon snap me in half like atoothpick.
“An elf would never lower herself to be an assassin for humans.” He curled his lip. “Your trinkets and cat will not protect you if you irritate the Dragon JusticeCourt.”
He turned and walked toward theroad.
It took me a minute to realize that he was done insulting me and leaving. Was I actually going to survive thisday?
When he reached the road, he faced me again. “If you interfere with my work again, I will eliminateyou.”
His eyes sent chills through me, but I made myself meet that gaze with all the confidence I could muster. “I’ll keep that in mind. Any chance you’re on your way back to whatever realm you camefrom?”
Something flashed in the dragon’s eyes, some emotion that was, for the first time, not irritation, indignation, or pomposity. Was it…wistfulness?
“No. I have many criminals that I must remove from this benighted prison yard of a planet. Stay out of my way,mongrel.”
He—Zav, was all I would call him—shifted from human form to dragon in a second, then sprang into the air, muscular legs propelling him up to the treetops before he extended his wings. He flapped them twice and soared out ofview.
I lowered my sword and looked at my Jeep. How was I going to gethome?
My phone buzzed. I dug it out of mypocket.
Great news, Ms. Thorvald.It was Dr. Brightman.My therapist acquaintance had a cancelation on Monday and can work you in. Here’s the link to book theappointment.
I groaned. I’d rather talk to another dragon than atherapist.
* * *
My wounds had mostly healedby Sunday afternoon when the bus dropped me off at the Greyhound station in Seattle. The acid burns on my hand were gone, and I trusted any bruises I’d received in my fight had disappeared. Healing fast was the biggest perk of having elven blood, especially in my line of work. Some people might think it a perk that I was in my forties and didn’t yet look thirty, but I wouldn’t mind getting past the stage where guys ogled mychest.
As I left the bus station, I grimaced at the idea of walking the mile to Occidental Square where Nin’s food truck was usually set up. I’d lost track of how many miles I’d walked this weekend, first on that dirt road and then on Highway 101, before I’d been close enough to order a car to take me to Portland. The outrageous receipt for that trip was in my inbox; I planned to write it off on my taxes as a work expense if Colonel Willard wouldn’t reimburseme.
If only I could be reimbursed for my Jeep. I’d spent most of Saturday on the phone with the insurance agency, trying to convince someone that an act of God had hurled it into those trees. My initial attempt to be honest and blame a dragon had gotten me hung up on. The last I’d heard, the agency was sending someone out to look at the crash site. Nobody had openly said I’d doctored the photos I’d sent, but it had beenimplied.
Hopefully, Nin would have time to see me. I needed more ammo, and Fezzik’s front sight had bent during my tiff with the dragon. Since I didn’t know how long I would be in town, I needed to take care of that as soon aspossible.
In the morning, I had a meeting with Brightman’s therapist. I’d been so tempted to blow that off, but maybe she could give me a couple of useful breathing techniques that would loosen my chest when it felt tight. I hated relying on drugs. It didn’t make sense to me that someone who could heal quickly would have high inflammation markers, or whatever they’d calledit.
Yes, my life was stressful, but Ilikedstress. A normal job would bore me todeath.
But a few minutes with the therapist wouldn’t kill me, and I would have plenty of time to make my meeting with Colonel Willard, who would give me my combat bonus and let me know if she had anything else for me. I hoped not. I needed a few days off. And to figure out how to get around until I could get another rig. Transportation was no problem in the city, but my missions regularly took me to Oregon, Idaho, and British Columbia. For good or ill, I wasthepreeminent assassin of magical bad guys in the PacificNorthwest.
Even though it was Sunday, Occidental Square was packed for the lunch hour, with tourists wandering through and snapping pictures of the totem poles. I passed a teenager on a skateboard who had the aura of someone like me with part elven blood. That was rare in people under forty since it had been that long since the remaining elves and dwarves in this world had declared Earth too populated and cleared out en masse, finding new homes in other realms. This kid was probably only a quarter elven, enough to give him some extra agility at theskatepark.
The line at Nin’s Thai Tiger truck was packed, as always. I thought about pushing my way around and going in the side door, but I didn’t want to interrupt her day business. Since she also had magical blood, I could sense her working inside near the fryers. Her grandfather on her mother’s side had been a gnome, and she’d known him long enough to learn his trade of making magicalweapons.
One of Nin’s assistants was at the window, handing out wrapped paper bundles of beef and rice. My stomach rumbled as the scents of grilling meat and spicy sauces teased mynose.
People chatted amiably in line, nobody glancing at the sword or gun I carried, since their magical glamours made them invisible to people without the blood to see through such things. Nobody glanced atmeeither. My height usually made me stand out, but the men and women were in groups or pairs, more interested in their private conversations than people-watching.
Strange, but in the crowded square, I felt a twinge of loneliness. Dr. Brightman’s words about my dearth of social connections came back to me, but I brushed them aside with irritation. I did fulfilling work that few others could do, and I helped people. That was enough of a social reward. Enough of aconnection.
Besides, where would I go to seek new friends? The magical community feared and hated me, because they knew what I did. Many of them believed I would go after even the innocent among them if someone paid me enough—not true. Andhumans…
Unfortunately, humans couldn’t be relied upon to take care of themselves if they ran into the magical, and that happened frequently in my company. I’d made a lot of enemies, so blackmail, assassination attempts, and drive-by shootings were a regular part of my life. I didn’t tell anyone I had a daughter or an ex-husband who lived in the suburbs north of Seattle, just as I didn’t draw attention to my mother in Oregon. Forming new relationships would only get people I cared about hurt—or killed. I’d learned that painfully from pastexperience.
“Onesuea rong hai,” the assistant said, handing out a meal wrapped inpaper.
I stepped to the front of the line. “I’ll take one of those and—” I raised my voice so Nin would hear it, from where she was now putting more rice in the cooker, “—I’m in need of something off the specialmenu.”
