“I’m going to want extra drawers than this,” I mentioned, reaching down and pulling out the third drawer. “Whoa, what’s all this?”

“Uh …”

However I used to be already pawing via all of it. There have been keychains and bits of rock. A magnet. Items of paper. A steel quantity three. From a home deal with, maybe?

“What’s all of this?” I requested.

“Mementos,” he mentioned awkwardly. “Right here, I’ll take—”

However I nudged his fingers away, fascinated by the gadgets. There have been seashore shells and automotive keys, a USB drive and somebody’s driver’s license. “Mementos of what?”

“My missions,” he mentioned.

I drew again, staring on the drawer. “There are numerous issues in right here. Are they every from one mission?”

“Sure,” he mentioned stiffly.

“Oh.” I swallowed. “I didn’t notice you have been so, um, prolific?”

“I used to be good,” he mentioned defensively.

“Are all of those, uh, you realize, did you kill somebody?” I licked my lips, nervous concerning the reply.

“No,” he mentioned. “Completely not. Some are, sure, I gained’t deny that. You understand what I do. However many of those are spy missions. I usually have gone to retrieve details about our existence.”

“This can be a dragon scale,” I mentioned, pointing at a clean gold object the scale of my palm.

“Sure.” Damon sighed. “That one is from my first kill.”

“You have been despatched on missions to kill your personal folks?”

“Very not often,” he mentioned. “However typically, sure. As I mentioned, now we have our dangerous folks, too. I gained’t disguise that from you. Nor will I faux I haven’t killed different dragons.”

“I noticed you kill one,” I identified.

“Sure, however that was in self-defense. These have been … not.”

I might inform he didn’t like what he’d achieved, that there was numerous unpacked emotion surrounding his job, however he additionally wasn’t mendacity to me, and that was essential. Hiding the reality was all the time dangerous, however proper now, in the beginning of our relationship, it might have been devastating.

“Right here, let me take it,” he mentioned, reaching once more for the field. “I’ll put them elsewhere. You don’t have to have the reminder.”

“I assume,” I mentioned, pawing via the objects.

There was one other license, {a photograph}. Anyone’s ID badge. I frowned as I noticed the thick plastic card. There was one thing about it …

“Wait!” Damon cried, however I’d already plucked it from the again of the drawer.

The face on it was unfamiliar. An older man, with vivid blond receding hair, a thick bushy mustache, and thick-rimmed glasses. He was an utter stranger. However that wasn’t what caught my consideration. It was his title.

Charles Lekkohnen.

“That title,” I whispered, wanting up at Damon.

He grimaced unhappily, the look of a person who knew issues have been about to go badly.

“Damon,” I requested quietly. “Why do you will have the ID badge of a useless man who the police say I killed?”

Chapter Thirty-Two

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