“That is annoying.”
“You’re short. You wouldn’t know.”
“Even at six feet, I’ve cracked my skull on some showerheads.”
“Showerheads, doorways, car roofs…” Inga thunked her tool down and gave me an exasperated look. “They didn’t even pay me for the last batch. They just ended our deal, said they’d found someone else who would make ammo for them and modify their guns cheaper. As if any sane person would work for less than what they paid me. It sucks to be a woman in a man’s business. The bastards are always trying to lowball you, treat you like some commodity rather than the skilled craftsperson you are.” She turned a scathing expression on the man manipulating the grinder, but he’d gone back to work and wasn’t paying attention.
“If I get a chance to pummel them mercilessly in the near future, I’ll let you know.”
“If you do, take pictures and send them to me, so I can blow them up and throw axes at them.”
I laughed. Who would have thought I’d find someone who shared my interest in hurling weapons at posters of obnoxious magical enemies?
“I will definitely do that. I should have done it the last time I visited. Otto looks good wearing a broken TV on his head.”
“That the one that can never put a shirt on?”
“He did seem to have that proclivity. Do you know who is working for them now, by chance?”
I still thought that if I could convince their bullet-maker—and it sounded like Inga had also enchanted their guns—to sever her relationship with the brothers, then that would help convince them to take their business elsewhere. If they suddenly couldn’t supply their customers with their promised goods, competing with Nin would be the last of their worries.
“No idea. Like I said, it has to be someone slaving away for nearly free, because my work was good and way underpriced. Maybe they’ve got someone tied up in their garage and they’re forcing him to work.”
I rocked back. “It’s the basement.”
“What?”
“I sensed a magical being in the basement when I was there. A full-blood, I’m sure.”
Her thick brows rose. “I was joking. Besides, even shifters couldn’t keep a full-blood enchanter imprisoned. It would be easy for him or her to use magic to escape.”
She laid her hand next to an iron bar on the table, and I sensed magic flowing again. The metal turned liquid and flowed over her wrist, re-forming into a shackle and locking itself. A second later, it unformed and returned to its original shape on the table.
“So whoever is in the basement is an ally and being paid?” I asked skeptically. I remembered that telepathic request for help.
“That’s my guess, even if it’s hard to imagine those two with allies. Still, they’ve got all those other cat shifters that visit their place. They must have some mysterious allure that’s unfathomable to me.”
“Maybe it’s their sex parties.” I grimaced, remembering the brothers’ suggestions.
“I can’t talk to that. I don’t get invited to a lot of those.” She sounded more wistful than happy about that.
“I don’t think those are parties that any sane woman would want to be invited to. All right, Inga. Thanks for the information.” I wasn’t sure how she would react, but I laid a hundred and fifty dollars on the table. It didn’t seem right that the receptionist should make more than the person I’d come to talk to.
“I don’t want your money, Mythic Murderer.”
“It’s the government’s money.” Technically, it wasn’t anymore, since this was part of my combat bonus from the wyvern job, but I had a feeling Inga would be more likely to accept it if she didn’t think it came out of my purse.
She snorted and stuffed it in a pocket. “You’re definitely Slytherin.”
I shook my head and walked out. I needed to work on my reputation.
18
Tuesday morning found me in a grumpy mood as I sat in Mary’s waiting room with the magazine-tidier I’d met before and another patient who was wearing running shoes, a hoodie, and spandex shorts that left little to the imagination. His leg hair would have put Chewbacca to shame.
Google had promised me that normal people went to therapy, but I hadn’t seen evidence of it yet. What did that say about me?
But I’d long ago given up any notion that I was normal. Normal women didn’t spend their nights battling pyromaniacs in food-truck parking lots or having nightmares about all the people they’d killed coming back to life and mauling their family members.
I rubbed my gritty eyes, wondering what it was like to sleep well and through the night. My joints ached, and my lungs were tight. I hadn’t had to use the “rescue” inhaler—how I loathed that term for it—much since starting on a new steroid one, but my body was telling me I hadn’t managed to do anything to address those elevated inflammatory markers my doctor kept talking about. How was I supposed to de-stress my life and lower inflammation when my attempts to do so ended up in yoga studios being bombed?
Ironically, the place on my hip where I’d been shot didn’t ache. Dragon healing magic had to be the best in the galaxy. I wondered if it could work on chronic conditions. Even if it could, there was no way I’d admit to Zav that my lungs were anything but sublime. Nor would I ask him for help.
My phone buzzed, and Mom’s name came up. Worry flashed through me. There wasn’t any reason she should be in danger, but I couldn’t help but imagine the worst.
“Hi, Mom,” I answered. “What’s up? Everything okay?”
“Yes.” She sounded puzzled that I’d asked. Her dog barked in the background, and she added, “Rocket misses Maggie.”
“I think you misread that bark. Nobody except Willard could possibly miss that cat.”
“He keeps looking up at the loft, expecting her to throw something down to him.”
“To him or at him?”
“He may not know the difference. He can catch anything. Are you going to Idaho?”
The abrupt topic switch surprised me. “Idaho? No, what for?”
Then I remembered Thad’s Facebook message announcing the vacation he and Amber would take next month.
“Thad and Amber are going to get a cabin on Lake Coeur d'Alene in July. They invited me.”
“Oh.” I should have said something more articulate, but I felt a numb disappointment that was completely illogical. They hadn’t invited me, but of course they hadn’t invited me. I hadn’t spoken to either of them in years. They probably didn’t even know I lived and worked in the state—or that I’d gone to several of Amber’s swim meets and her sixth- and eighth-grade graduations, always standing too far back to be noticed.
I rested my forehead on my knees, regrets and sadness settling on my back like a hundred-pound barbell. Maybe, if I could somehow finish dealing with Nin’s shifters and get all the dragons out of my life, it would be safe to take a trip to Northern Idaho. I’d only had a few assignments over there, so I shouldn’t have too many enemies in that state. Maybe if I visited for a few days, no bounty-hunting orcs would show up to pester me. Maybe it would be safe to walk up to Amber and Thad and say hello. And say… I was sorry I hadn’t been around.
Thad knew the reason why—I’d told him before I left—but I doubted Amber remembered. She’d been so young at the time. And I had no idea what Thad had told her in the interim. Had he made me out to be a deadbeat and a villain? Or just explained that my work was dangerous so I couldn’t stick around? Either way, I couldn’t imagine a scenario in which Amber would understand and forgive me. It was almost better not to get in touch and never to know for sure how she felt about me. That would be less painful than walking up to the face of anger and rejection.
“Val?”
I sat up. “Yes. Sorry. You should go.”
“I will.” Mom paused. “You should go.”
“I’ll think about it.” My phone alerted me to another incoming call. “My boss is on the other line. I need to go.”
“Tell my roommate his rent is due soon if you see him.”
“I think he’s in Woodinville working on… a project for someone. His van is there too. Can you charge someone rent if he’s never there?”
“Of course, you can. He has a lease.”
“Right.” I said goodbye and switched over in time to catch Willard’s call.
“It’s about time,” she said.
“I like to keep people waiting so they’re extra eager to talk to me when I pick up.”
“You weren’t sleeping, were you?”
“No, I was talking to my mom. Her dog misses your cat.”
“Really. Nobody’s ever said they missed Maggie before.” A screech sounded in the background—it was either Maggie complaining about something or Willard had adopted a cranky baby in the last week.
“Rocket is a golden retriever. They like everyone—and everything. It’s in the genes.”
“I have bad news for you.”
“You’re sending me after the dragon, aren’t you?”
“How’d you guess?”
“My fate seems inextricably intertwined with dragons these days.”
Mr. Hairy Legs was listening to my conversation and raised his eyebrows at this. I resisted the urge to threaten him with a weapon and instead walked over to the window and spoke more quietly.
“Inextricably intertwined?” Willard asked. “Nice vocabulary words. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you went to college.”
“I read books now and then.”
“From what I’ve been able to dig up, the silver’s full name is Dobsaurin of the Silverclaw Clan.”
“He introduced himself to me as Dobsaurin the Most Magnificent.”
“I’m sure. According to my informant, his family is reputed to rule over the second most powerful clan among the dragons. None of my snitches have any idea why he’s here on Earth. Do you? And do you know for sure if he kidnapped those joggers?”