Blood Tally

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Part of my job – a disturbingly large part of it – is the expectation that I will be sworn at, spit upon, punched, stabbed, and even shot. The fact that I work for the supernatural elements of this world rather than, say, a loan shark doesn’t seem to make a lick of difference. Nobody likes debt collectors. That’s just human – and sometimes inhuman – nature.

I’m lucky that I’m well-equipped for the job. I wear a flak vest, have a handful of magical tattoos, as well as the thick skin of a guy with troll ancestry. I go into every situation armed, though not always openly. And best of all, I have a ring on my finger that belongs to my best friend Maggie. She might be trapped in there just as surely as I’m trapped in my job, but she’s still a powerful jinn; an ace in the hole that nobody sees coming.

Basically I’m trying to say that I have a dangerous job and I’m always ready for those dangers. Which makes it disconcerting when the job is too easy.

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