Hunter: Crossroads

Chapter 28

There was a new painting in Richard's office. It was of the ocean; a swirling mixture of blues, greens and greys with storm clouds building on the horizon. He sat just below it, taking a sip of water and as I felt him staring at me, I finally gave him my full attention.

"That's new."

"I painted it myself," He smiled, a hint of pride in his voice. "It's a hobby of mine. I find it very relaxing."

"Not inspired by any dreams or visions like memories?" I ask cautiously.

"No, not that I am aware of. It was a photo the instructor took a year or so ago while on holiday. We had a lesson on texture." The infamous scribbling on his notebook had me sitting up, not subtly looking to see what he was writing. "Do you have visions or memories like this?"

"No, I have an artist ex-boyfriend who, post break up, was cursed with the gifts of a Seer and now paints all the shit in my life I need to fight, be aware of or attempt to run away from, while theming his next show around it." I shrug. "I'm not much of an art fan these days, but I like your textures."

"I was going to ask if you've recently been to the other world because of how relaxed you seem to be today, but we can talk about this if you like?"

"Why would having been there make me relaxed?" It was a never ending shit show wherever I went.

"Maybe because you feel more of a sense of belonging over there, with the people who are like you? The Powers?" Richard questions, turning back a few pages in his notebook as if to confirm this. "The sessions where you tell me you have been there, you are often less anxious, much more talkative and open to sharing things, such as your artist ex boyfriend and you leave saying thank you, rather than, why haven't you cured me yet?"

"I still feel that is a valid question," I frown. "But yes, I came back yesterday. I had dinner with my parents and didn't want to risk being late for this."

"Thank you, then Elise." Richard smiled. "Dinner with your parents?"

"Nice try, let's go back to the part where you think you know me."

"Does it matter what I think I know, or what I think in general?" More scribbling in his notebook.

"Yes."

"You've never worried before. Your general attitude is fuck what other people think, you're going to do just do you." He met my gaze, and I felt the challenge there.

"Are you allowed to say fuck?"

"Do you remember that discussion we had regarding deflection?"

"You're deflecting right now." I point out, and that's how it goes for the next however long until I'm back to staring at the ocean and all its textures. "I mean, at least when I was just a Hunter, or the Third or the God Killer, I had an idea on who I was, what I had to do. Those titles give us purpose and look at Deimos. God of Terror. He knows it, he owns it. I'm torn between two completely different worlds and no idea where I belong in any of it unless being a magnet for trouble counts"

"Maybe that's your purpose then?" Richard sounds so smug with this little revelation I want to throw the cushion beside me at his stupid smug face.

"You're a therapist, not a comedian."

"Oscar Wilde once said, be yourself; everyone else is already taken." He started, his not a therapist voice taking over.

"Isn't it Olivia Wilde?"

"She's an actress, while he is a very famous writer." I roll my eyes and he sits up a little straighter, pen back in his hand. "Do not compare yourself to the God of Terror, the Valkyrie, or your artist ex-boyfriend who is now a Seer. We all carry expectations that society has placed on our backs, following a belief system that we were taught to be right, and that we must conform to, even if we do not believe in it ourselves."