Sinister Magic: An Urban Fantasy Dragon Series (Death Before Dragons #1) - Lindsay Buroker Page 0,12

it can be difficult to deal with them.”

“Yes.”

“Are they granted trials or a kind of unprejudiced judgment before you’re sent in to execute them?”

“Not typically.” I shrugged. “It’s not my job to question that.”

“Hm.” For the first time, she scribbled something on her notepad.

Her writing wasn’t firm. Which was too bad, because I would have had to climb into her lap to read her notes.

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 the door.

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 for you.”

“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 that that bothered me more than any of the other stuff?

“Those do sound like harrowing events, and I’m sorry you had a rough few days.”

The sympathy surprised me, though I supposed deflecting and defusing anger was what therapists were all about.

I settled back in the chair. “Thank you.”

“Would you say that was a typical week for you?”

“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 eating hikers.”

She scribbled more notes. “Do you enjoy your work?”

“Not that many people are qualified to do it, and I’m good at it.”

Her eyebrows took another climb.

“It takes someone with a recent magical ancestor to sense magic and the magical. My father was an elf. Or maybe still is an 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 and dwarves.”

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 it was.

“So you’re good at your job, and that makes you feel compelled to do it.”

“Yes.”

“Would you do it if you were mediocre at it?”

“If I were mediocre at it, I’d be dead.”

Judging by her expression, that wasn’t the answer she wanted.

“I don’t dislike my job. I like helping people, and I like challenges. If I didn’t do this, I have no idea what else I’d even be qualified to do.”

“It’s never too late to retrain for another career.”

“I don’t want another career.”

“Good to know.” Mary set down her pen. “Let’s assume that you don’t find hunting down these magical beings, or being hunted down in turn, stressful.” Her face twisted, as if she had a hard time believing that. “I find that chronic stress, which many people deal with, often stems from a clash between what we think society wants from us and what we believe we want. The expectations of others, whether perceived or genuine, can be a great burden.”

“No kidding.”

“Does it bother you that you’re sent out to kill these intelligent beings when they haven’t received trials or a fair hearing?”

“No.”

At least it hadn’t until she’d pointed this out. Wasn’t she supposed to make my life easier, not more conflicted?

“They’re not ambiguous cases.” Usually. “And I purposely don’t get to know any of them. I just show up and do the job so they can’t go on hurting people.”

“So you distance yourself from them.”

I shrugged.

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