The Lost Dragon Princess

Chapter 6

“Yes, certainly.” Min, 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 g*n. “Take what cartridges you need from that box, please.” She pointed without looking.

“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 her weapons.

“Business is good. I am saving my money and thinking of opening a restaurant next year.”

That wasn’t the business I’d meant, but I asked, “Will it have more than one entree on the menu?”

“In my country, it is very common to perfect one dish and sell only that.”

“I guess that’s a no.”

“I am thinking of adding a gluten-free sauce option.”

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. Min, I knew, wouldn’t charge me for anything but the ammo, so I stuck the cash on a shelf when she wasn’t paying attention.

My phone buzzed. The number wasn’t familiar, but it was a local area code.

I answered, hoping the therapist was calling to cancel my appointment. “Yeah?”

“Ms. Masseti?” a young male voice asked uncertainly.

“Good guess. Who’s this?”

“Lieutenant Sudo. I’ll be meeting you at the usual place tomorrow, but I need to move our appointment up an hour. I have something important to do in the afternoon.” His voice was snotty, and I immediately disliked him—and the insinuation that I wasn’t important.

I opened my mouth to ask for more details, but he hung up.

“Why do I have a feeling this crappy week is not about to get any better?”

As soon as I walked into the fourth-floor waiting room and saw the marble floors, the leather couches, the counter full of free snacks and drinks, and the view of Lake Union out the window, I knew I should have asked for the therapist’s rates before making an appointment. As an independent contractor, I had health insurance on the minimalist side.

I rolled my eyes through filling out the new-patient paperwork, feeling antsy because my new contact had moved up our appointment, and I was already suspicious that this was going to be a waste of time.

“Are you all right, Ms. Masseti?” The perky twenty-something receptionist looked at me with concern.

“Yeah, why?” I glanced around.

There were two other people in the waiting room, presumably to see other therapists. If this turned out to be some surprise group share-fest, I was going to bring Sindari out to eat everyone here. Or at least cow them into fleeing.

“I can hear your pen scrawling from here. You seem to be applying more pressure than necessary.”

“I like to be firm.” Noting the thick dark pen strokes on the paper, I forced my fingers to loosen. Would I be judged for that? Were there cameras in the waiting room, taking note of how pissed or frustrated people appeared while filling out the paperwork?

“Of course.” Perky Receptionist smiled, her artistically feathered eyebrows twitching.

Even though I attempted to finish the paperwork with less firmness, it was difficult. The guy a few seats away started muttering, “Life’s a long drive, but my car’s in the shop. Life’s a long drive, but my car’s in the shop.” Over and over, too loudly to ignore.

I turned in the paperwork. The other person waiting kept straightening the magazines on the coffee table over and over.

I gritted my teeth. Dr. Google assured me that normal people went to therapy—I’d checked—but they weren’t represented in this waiting room.

“Mary will see you now,” the receptionist said.

Mary? How… informal. Did this mean Mary hadn’t earned a degree that came with a fancy honorific?

“Thanks,” I mumbled and walked through the door she opened for me.

Mary turned out to be a graying Japanese woman with the last name Watanabe, but she only introduced herself by her first name and waved me to a chair that faced her seat and would put my back to the door. I gritted my teeth again. The odds of danger finding me here were low, but putting my back to a door went against my instincts. It wasn’t as if Ms. Perky was going to beat down invaders before they could reach us.

“Aren’t you supposed to have a couch?”

“Do you need a nap?”

“No, I need a seat that doesn’t put my back to the door.”

That was a weird thing to admit, wasn’t it? Her eyebrows climbed. Yes, it was.

Growling, I adjusted the chair so that I faced the certificate proclaiming her a Licensed Professional Counselor and could see the door. I had to turn my head to look at her, but it wasn’t my fault she’d so inconsiderately set up her office.

She had my paperwork on a tray beside her chair and a notepad in her lap. The sole desk in the room was pushed up against a wall and was apparently there to hold plants and stacks of folders rather than for work.

“What brings you here today?” Mary asked.

“A referral.”

She raised her eyebrows encouragingly. Oh hell, was I going to have to do all the talking? Small talk isn’t my thing. Nor is pouring out my soul to strangers.

“I would need you to tell me more than that, Ms. Masseti,” said Mary when I sighed and I said,” I have been asked by the guidance counsellor at my school that with the ongoing drama that I have been facing at my house it would be a bit better if I were able to talk to someone else.”

“And why is that? Are you having problems at school?”

“Do you think that I might have problems at school? From watching me?”

“Of course not. I am not here to be judgmental or make decisions about you based on the fact that you have come for therapy. I am here to listen to whatever you wish to say and then decide what course of action is best justified by you.”

“I can see things,” I said solemnly and she did not react. I guessed I said that just to se if she would react or not but she did not so I said,” I am not making this up and neither do I have schizophrenia. I can see supernatural and magical creatures which some other people can see and most don’t. I also take contracts from a government department in order to research and if threatening then hunt these creatures down.”

“Why would you be a government contractor at this age? I mean, I am certain you have dreams and goals in your life that you wish to fulfil?”

“I am an expert swordswoman. I am playing nationals. Do you know that?”

Mary did not know that and she definitely looked impressed. Then I continued,” I am in the cross country running team of the school and we are also going for Nationals. They are the ones who came to me after I made a video of goblins public. People might not be able to see them in real life but when on video they certainly can be captured nicely. You can check it on Youtube. Since I am not of legal age it is easier for me to be caught and that is why they trained me and are using me.”

“That seems to be a lot of pressure on you at a very young age. What about your family? Do your parents know about this?”

“What do you think?” I smirked at her and then I said,” My mom told me that I was adopted when I had an almost fatal car crash at the age of thirteen. I had not believed her but the rate in which my injuries healed in a few days the doctors said that it was miraculous but I believed her then that I was adopted. There must be some kind of supernatural creature in my family tree which gives me some of their power. It is really cool. But apart from doing my part I also want to find my parents.”

“Now that is something I can understand.” The woman nodded sagely.