Give Christy a Dragonfly

Figuring that our time was short, I retrieved one of the two dragonflies that I had smuggled in with me.

Christy blinked at it before asking, “Is that a real dragonfly?”

Not really sure how to explain that it’s a special dragonfly that a certain shaman is able to track and give commands, I said, “It’s a tracking device. Hide it in your hair and be careful, it’s pretty fragile.”

Christy’s eyes grew wide, “Really?! That’s so cool! How did you get a tracking device?”

I got nearer to her so that I could whisper without being overheard, “Didn’t Mira tell you what I do for a living?”

“She said you work a boring job with bankers on Wall Street.”

I opened my mouth to tell her she’s wrong, but that’s actually a pretty accurate description of what I did with sixty percent of my time, while the other forty percent could be divided as thirty-five percent bureaucratic busywork, five percent sitting around waiting for someone to show up so that I could arrest them, and ten percent sitting around waiting to testify. Yes, I know that’s more than a hundred percent, but law enforcement is always overworked.

Instead, I went with the same dumb line I told Ben and the other three, “I’m a secret agent.”