Dragons Luck (22 page)

“You can talk to me now! What isn’t a good idea? Moving, or being close to you? Don’t you like me?!”

He wished he had moved her away from the table earlier, but it was such a sudden shift that it caught Griffen flat-footed. He had forgotten how damn mercurial the changelings could be. And that last question was almost shrieked, and there just wasn’t any good answer to it.

Griffen, in the tradition of brave, i.e. stupid, men throughout history, tried to answer anyway.

“It’s not that, Tammy, but I already basically have two girlfriends as it is, and—”

It was not the time to think on whether or not Fox Lisa or Mai would mind the changeling girl for a night. Besides, with Tammy, he doubted it would ever be just “one night.”

“Two! Two?! Well, then what’s one more?”

“Tammy, relax, let me explain.”

“Explain… I thought you wanted… I thought we had… YOU BASTARD!”

Tammy slapped him, and it hurt. It actually hurt as if he had been hit with a baseball bat. He looked down and saw that her hand was the color of wood. Though there was a slight crack in it, and tears streaming down her face.

“Ow!” she said, whirled, and ran away.

Griffen instinctively started to rise and follow.

“Stop.”

Griffen looked over at Tink, who was shaking his head.

“I’ve seen her like this before. If you follow her, it will mean you love her, and you will never be rid of her.”

“I didn’t mean to…” Griffen said.

“I know. Nothing you did, or said, would have happened with a sane, normal girl. But our Tammy—she’s something special, even for a changeling,” Tink said.

He shook his head and stood.

“Cash me out, will you? I can follow her at a distance, and if she catches me… Well, it wouldn’t be the first time. Trust me, Griffen, you don’t want to follow, I learned that one the hard way,” Tink said.

Tink collected what was left of his stake and strolled out into the night. Griffen watched him go, knowing Tink was right but his instincts telling him what a brute and fool he had been.

“Relax, McCandles. That truly was not your fault. That one is unbalanced,” Lowell said.

“No one could have done better at that point. You made the right choices,” Margie said.

“Yeah, we spread it round. You in da clear. She just crazy.” Kane nodded vigorously.

Somehow that didn’t comfort Griffen. He could only imagine what the rumor mill would make of this one.

And he certainly wasn’t in the mood to play cards anymore.

Flynn
knew there was someone in his room.

He had been out for an evening stroll, reviewing in his own head where things stood. Griffen seemed sufficiently distraught, the pressure of the conclave blending nicely with the pressures he had been heaping on. All that was needed was one last plan, one last push. Something from within the conclave itself perhaps. Flynn already had a seed of an idea, and the walk had been just the thing he needed for it to blossom.

Then, a few feet from his door, he knew someone was inside, waiting for him. Flynn wasn’t sure which of his senses had provided the information, nor did he care. The first thing a dragon learned, a proper dragon, was to trust the gestalt of data that showed more of the world than any single sense. It was a trick that the young McCandles seemed to have grasped only barely, but then Flynn knew he wasn’t a proper dragon. Not yet.

Flynn paused for only a moment before opening the door. The matter was rather straightforward. If whoever lay in wait was in his class, they already knew he was in the hall. If they weren’t, there was no threat, and he might as well find out who’d had the stupidity to break into his room.

Of course, he hadn’t considered the possibility of someone in a class all their own. He regretted opening the door as soon as he saw Lizzy, sprawled on her stomach on his bed, flipping channels on his TV.

“A hundred channels, and the funniest thing on is the news,” Lizzy said, not bothering to look up at him.

“Perhaps you should go to a movie?” Flynn suggested.

“Hey, that’s a great idea!”

Lizzy bounced off the bed and was reaching for a tattered leather coat that had been draped on a nearby chair. Her hand stopped a few inches from it, and she turned back to Flynn.

“Say, that was almost clever. You are almost as good at glamour as little Nathaniel.”

Well, it had been worth a try,
Flynn thought. Out loud he simply said, “Better, more subtle. But you are… difficult.”

“You’d be amazed how often I am told so. Hey, do you get pay-per-view in this joint?”

With that she was back on the bed, remote in hand. Flynn sighed inwardly and pulled out another chair, sitting with his back to one corner of the room. He watched her aimlessly flip through movie listings, feet kicking in the air like a child. The problem with dealing with Lizzy was he was never sure how much was insanity and how much an act. Mostly the first as far as he could tell. He had a much better time sparring with a professional like Mai.

With his expressions carefully schooled, he bided his time, trying to figure out what Lizzy wanted. He was still getting over the shock of finding her here of all places. Had his attention really been so focused on McCandles that a powder keg like her could go unnoticed? Or had she just arrived?

“Long see no time, or is it the other way around?” Lizzy said.

“Look, Lizzy, I told you before. I won’t help you start an ‘acting’ career without permission from your mother. I am not stepping sideways on her for you.”

“And anyone else who told me no like that would be dead before they finished.”

“Which you tried last time, so skip it,” Flynn said.

Flynn didn’t mention that they had both been lucky to walk away from that. He wasn’t used to such a… physical confrontation. Most dragons considered themselves more elegant than that.

“Mumsy still thinks that the limelight would be too much for her delicate daughter. She says it’s just better all around if Lizzy stays home,” Lizzy said.

“Safer anyway,” said Flynn.

“Exactly. Besides she wants to get her hooks in you herself. She says you go to all the best parties.”

“Ahem… so then what can I help you with?”

Lizzy sat on the edge of the bed and looked at him for the first time. Flynn found himself fascinated by the broken eyes and the confusing mix of emotions that played across her face. Anger, fear, doubt. And random sparks of happiness that gave her a smile so cold Flynn found his heartbeat increasing slightly.

“I came to kill Valerie McCandles.”

“I won’t even help you get out of your mother’s house. You think I’d help you kill someone?”

“Who says I need your help to kill anyone? Lizzy could kill the pope if she wanted to. Not a bad idea that, not bad, but I certainly don’t need some pampered
agent
to help me with a kill! Not me, not Lizzy.”

“Then what…”

“Because it’s all gone
wrong
!” Lizzy screamed.

Flynn was on his feet a second after Lizzy, but she already had him by the shoulders. Her fingers were hard and sharp, as if the bones themselves were hidden blades. Shorter than him by a good head and a half, she still lifted him a foot off the ground.

“Don’t you see? I took the shot, and now I don’t know if I can take another! I never expected this, not this. I just wanted her out of the family, didn’t want Nathaniel happy. Not
him
. And now if Mother finds out about her and me and it and I just don’t know what she’ll do.”

Flynn reached out, touch gentle but firm, and put his fingertips on the pulse of Lizzy’s neck and against one wrist. For a moment Lizzy rubbed her head down against his hand like a cat, shattered eyes fading to softer, gentler colors.

With the connection made, Flynn flooded her with glamour.

“Put. Me. Down.”

Lizzy screamed, and it couldn’t have been as loud as it seemed in that moment. No one came beating down the door. No one came to rescue her.

Flynn caught a brief glimpse of himself through her eyes, glamour wrapped around him and making him seem glorious and terrible. A pillar of shining light, of burning fire, perfect pristine water. Images mixed and cascading, and each beating down on her senses, coupled with merciless reflections of her pitiful, mad little self. His self-image and her worst fears, all feeding off each other and building.

Flynn smiled cruelly; it had been years since he’d had an opportunity to be so blunt. To really cut loose. As much as he prided himself on his smooth touch, it was occasionally satisfying to smash down like a sledgehammer. It was as if he were showing her a glimpse into the Devil’s own mirror, with him playing the part of both mirror and monster.

Lizzy fell to her knees, and the connection broke. Flynn needed almost intimate contact to maintain that level of power, and it always seemed to have a price. He purposefully didn’t look down at Lizzy as she trembled and sobbed on the hotel carpet. A dragon’s glamour was often a two-way street, and he didn’t want to know what would be reflected back at him.

“Now try again,” Flynn said. “You attacked Valerie McCandles, and she is still alive. Is the sister really that tough?”

Lizzy shook her head, but didn’t look up at Flynn again. Tears stained the carpet.

“Yes… no… she’s tough, but stupid. I could have taken her.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“I… I don’t know if I should. Don’t know if I want to. It all changed, in an eyeblink it changed.”

“How did it change, Lizzy?”

Now Lizzy looked up, and from her cold glare Flynn knew the last traces of his glamour on her had faded. Pity, too, it was the kind of trick that was only easy once, before the mind had built up defenses for it. Still… this was only Lizzy.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she spat.

Flynn shrugged.

“Yes, I would. I am honestly curious. But at least tell me why you came to me.”

“Not sure I know anymore, after that. Ah, yes, wanted advice I did. Can’t go to family, family mustn’t know, not till I’m done here and back home. Can’t go to locals, locals are the McCandleses, and their pets. But knew you were in town. Saw you, tracked you.”

Lizzy threw back her head and laughed, and Flynn felt mixed irritation and admiration. Irritation that she had known his whereabouts, and he hadn’t even gotten a call from his network of contacts about hers. Admiration that, well, he had never seen someone pick themselves up so fast after a blow like that. That laugh, as it flitted through the scales like an insane hummingbird, was also filled with her strength coming back to her.

Sure enough, she got to her feet and planted her hands on her hips, glaring at him and showing no sign that anything had just occurred. Idly, he wondered if she remembered.

“And what are you doing here? I ask to me. Want the McCandles boy, and completely ignored the sister. Misogynistic bastard. No wonder Mummy dearest runs circles around you old-school male dragons.

“Pot, kettle, black, my dear. You don’t want to kill Valerie anymore; that is fine. But you can still make her suffer. Turn your attentions to her brother.”

“Pot, kettle, polka dot!” Lizzy said triumphantly.

“I have no idea how to reply to that,” Flynn said.

“Good. I have no interest in the boy-child, or your prophecy, and don’t think I don’t know about that. Lizzy will do what Lizzy wants to do.”

“But you don’t know what you want to do.”

“I’ll figure it out and hang about a bit in the meantime. Maybe I’ll find a use for you after all.”

Lizzy stepped to him, reaching a hand out, and even though he saw the claws, he didn’t allow himself to react. Any reaction would just provoke her. She drew her hand across his cheek, down his neck, fingers sliding past the collar of his shirt to his chest.

Claws leaving a set of deep lines over his heart.

“Don’t think for a second I don’t owe you for that glamour, Earl,” Lizzy purred and tightened her grip.

Flynn felt the scrape of claw on bone, and still he didn’t move. She pouted some and stepped back, and the wound closed nearly instantly under Flynn’s concentration. He had always been better at healing than at glamour, but damn did that girl have some wicked claws.

She wiped her fingers delicately on his bedspread and stalked out the door.

Flynn let his guard down, slumping into a chair as adrenaline he didn’t know he had been pumping left his system. Unsteadily, he poured himself a tumbler of bourbon and sipped at it gently.

Despite the danger, and irritation, Lizzy had actually been right. Up till now, he had been a fool to focus solely on Griffen. Griffen’s strength seemed to be largely those around him, and Flynn had thought that he could strip that best by influencing the boy directly. When it would be so much easier to target one of them.

But not his sister. She was not an easy target, not if she sent Lizzy running. That was something he would have to look into. Someone at the conclave perhaps?

Pieces were starting to fall together, but his train of thought wasn’t quite as true as usual. He kept getting distracted by details.

And Lizzy was hanging around, and George, and there was Mai. This was getting far too complicated. Griffen was already on a collision course. Flynn had given him enough pushes, enough pressure, enough distractions, that it wouldn’t take much more.

In fact, Flynn didn’t really need to be here anymore at all.

Flynn pulled out his matched suitcases and began carefully packing, hands still just a bit shaky from alcohol and fear. It was time he got back into his own environment. This conclave was nearly done. Griffen would either falter completely or hang on by his fingernails. Either way, he would be ready when Flynn decided just what he wanted with him. The next step, if he bothered with one, would be the last, and it could be handled by proxy.

After all, what else are lackeys for?

All
in all, the conclave progressed quite well. To be sure, there were some raised voices and occasional ruffled feathers, but nothing out of the ordinary when people of differing opinions gathered for discussion. If anything, it was tamer than most bar gatherings to watch an NFL game.

It came as no surprise, then, when things went bad. It was a surprise to Griffen, but not to any of the attendees. To them, it was only a matter of time before something blew up. The only question was when and over what.

What was noteworthy, and therefore discussed long after the conclave disbanded, was the aftermath.

It all started innocently enough. Someone suggested a scavenger hunt, and the bulk of the attendees thought it was a fun idea. Griffen was hesitant, but finally agreed with the consensus, only on the condition that no laws would be broken by any of the teams taking part. He had taken part in some scavenger hunts back in college, and knew firsthand how raucous they could become if hard-and-fast rules were not established from the outset.

That evening, players were divided into two-person teams, and, following yet another suggestion, each team was made up of individuals from different groups. This was both to promote conversation between the attendees and to ensure that the use of their various powers would be kept to a minimum.

One such team was composed of Lowell, the main spokesman for the vampires, and a young shape-shifter named Gustov. Early on, they agreed that they were severely handicapped in the competition as neither of them was local, nor had either of them been to New Orleans before. Even though the list of items to be sought was not particularly difficult, without much knowledge of the French Quarter they didn’t even know where to start looking for half the items they were supposed to be seeking. As such, they decided they would not seriously pursue the quest but rather use it as an excuse to explore the Quarter a bit in the allotted time.

One item they chose to look for was an old LP record. For that, they wandered down Decatur Street toward the French Market in hopes of finding something in one of the small “retro” shops in that area. Unfortunately, they discovered that most of those shops had closed early, so they made their way leisurely back toward Jackson Square.

There were many interesting shops to catch their attention as they window-shopped their way along, and were both pleasantly surprised to find each other’s company both relaxing and pleasant.

As they approached the Square, however, Lowell noticed that Gustov seemed increasingly uncomfortable, constantly glancing ahead and obviously distracted in his conversation.

The reason for this soon became clear.

As they drew abreast of the line of mule-drawn carriages waiting for fares in front of the cathedral, the animals became noticeably restless, shifting their feet and tossing their heads. Their drivers, chatting in the shade, broke off their conversations to attend to the mules, glancing around to try to figure out what was upsetting them.

Realizing what was happening, Lowell gazed at the animals, then made a small, barely noticeable gesture with his right hand.

The mules immediately calmed down, their ears coming forward and their fidgeting ceasing.

Gustov gave his teammate a small, embarrassed smile.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Think nothing of it,” Lowell said with a shrug. “Is that sort of thing much of a problem for you?”

“Not usually,” Gustov said. “I live in a city, and there aren’t many domestic animals around. I don’t go to the zoo very often, though.”

They walked a few more steps in silence.

“Do you think you could teach me how to do that?” the shape-shifter said at last. “Calm animals down, I mean. I can think of times when it could come in real handy.”

“I really don’t know,” Lowell said. “I’m not sure how much of it is a learned skill and how much is an inherited ability.”

He glanced around.

“Tell you what,” he said. “Let’s give it a try and see what happens.”

With that, he led the way across the street and up the ramp beside the Jackson Brewery to the Moonwalk. Pausing, he peered up and down the sidewalk that ran along the Mississippi River to the Aquarium of the Americas and the Riverwalk shopping center. The walk was well lit by mock gaslight streetlamps, but there were still patches and stretches of near dark.

“There should be… Ah! There.”

The vampire pointed at a rat that was snuffling around the litter at the base of a trash can.

“Now what you do is stare at it for a few moments to fix the image in your mind, then envision what you want it to do… like this.”

He stared at the rat, then made a gesture. The rat left off its foraging, advanced several feet toward them, then stopped, sitting up on its haunches.

“That’s neat,” Gustov said.

“Now you try it.” Lowell nodded, stepping back a pace.

The shape-shifter took a deep breath and stared at the rat. Several moments went past. The beast seemed to lose interest in them, sniffing the night air as if trying to locate a new food source.

“It doesn’t seem to be working,” Gustov admitted at last.

“Oh well,” Lowell said. “Maybe it is hereditary. Then again, maybe you just need to practice a bit.”

“What was that gesture you made?” the shape-shifter said.

“Gesture?”

“Yes. A little wave with your hand,” Gustov said. “You did it just now, and before when you were calming the mules.”

“Oh, that.” The vampire shrugged. “It’s just a way to focus your energies. You let the suggestion build, then release the instruction with a gesture. Watch.”

He stared at the rat again, then gestured.

The rat stood up on its hind legs and waved its forelegs as if it were dancing.

Gustov threw back his head and laughed out loud.

“What are you doin’?”

The two men looked around.

A couple was approaching them. Apparently one of the scavenger-hunt teams from the conclave. The woman was one of the changelings, the leggy coltish one they called Tammy. The man was the tall skinny black man who was one of the hosting locals.

“Oh. Hi… Slim, is it?” Lowell said. “I was just showing Gustov here some of the basics of influencing animals.”

“Uh-huh,” Slim said. “Looks like a bit beyond the basics. You’ve got that animal doin’ stuff it don’t do normally. Mind letting it go?”

“Oh. Certainly.”

Lowell gestured again, and the rat dropped back to all fours and shook itself.

“Sorry,” the vampire said. “I didn’t mean any harm. Friend of yours?”

There was an ill-muffled snort of laughter from the shape-shifter.

“We’ve worked together before,” Slim said, stiffly. “More like an associate. I try to treat the animals I deal with on a level of respect. I guess that’s one of the differences between you and me.”

“Hey. Lighten up, Slim,” Lowell said. “It’s not like I set him up to swim the Mississippi.”

“No. You just had him dancin’ around like some street-trash hustler. That ain’t somethin’ he’d do normally,” Slim growled, turning away.

“What? It’s beneath his dignity?” The vampire laughed. “C’mon. It’s just a rat.”

“Yeah?” Slim said, returning to the fray. “And you’re a vampire. How’d you like it if someone got into your head and had you dancin’ around just for show.”

“Slim,” Tammy said, warningly, putting a hand on his arm.

“Like there’s anyone at this conclave who could get that much control over me… or any other vampire,” Lowell shot back.

“Hey, guys,” Gustov said, stepping between them. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting a little?”

“And you stay out of this,” Slim said, turning on the shape-shifter. “If I want advice, it sure won’t be from the likes of you. What? Has he got a mind hold on you, too? I thought you were further up the food chain than that.”

“What are you doing?” Lowell said, looking at the changeling.

Tammy looked up from her cell phone.

“I’m calling Mr. McCandles,” she said. “This whole thing is getting out of hand.”

“Whistling up the dragon to bail you out of trouble?” the vampire sneered. “Well, he isn’t strong enough to stop me if I really wanted to get into it with Animal Man here. Oh, put that thing away. We aren’t…”

He started to reach for Tammy’s phone, but Slim knocked his hand away.

“I don’t care how bad you think you are,” he snarled. “You don’t touch her while she’s with me. Leastwise, not unless she wants you to.”

“And you don’t lay hands on me!” Lowell hissed. “Better men than you have learned to regret taking such liberties.”

Again, Gustov stepped between them.

“Gentlemen,” he said. “There’s no call for…”

“And I told you before to back off, Fido,” Slim said.

“Around here, a man fights his own battles once he starts ’em.”

The shape-shifter struck a stance.

“That’s twice you’ve insulted me, Slim,” he snarled. “Both times I was trying to help. But if you…”

“What’s going on here?”

Griffen McCandles appeared out of the darkness, striding toward them.

There was a frozen moment, as everyone held his pose in tableau like a bunch of guilty children when the front door opens. Then everyone started talking at once.

“We were just…”

“The man threatened to…”

“Started to go off on me over…”

Griffen held up his hand, and they lapsed into silence.

“Let’s try this one at a time,” he said. “Lowell?”

“Gustov asked me a question regarding basic animal-control skill,” the vampire said. “We came up here, away from the tourist traffic, so I could give him a minor demonstration. Slim here came along and took exception to what I was doing. Something about offending the dignity of a rat. It went downhill from there.”

“I see,” Griffen said. “Slim? Anything to add?”

“He was makin’ it stand up on its hind legs and dance,” Slim said with a scowl. “To me, that’s abusin’ the power.”

Griffen remembered how offended Slim had gotten when it was suggested that he use his animal-control skills in his street act.

“Did you say that to him?” he said.

“No. I just asked him to stop,” the street entertainer said. “Don’t figure it’s my place to try to tell someone else how to use their abilities.”

“That was it, then?” Griffen said. “A disagreement over how one’s powers are to be used? I thought that was the kind of thing that was supposed to be talked out at this conclave.”

“It got a bit heated, Mr. McCandles,” Tammy put in.

“There was some name-calling and muscle flexing. All in all, I’d say it was just a misunderstanding that got a little out of hand.”

“Very well,” Griffen said. “We’ll leave it at that. I think a round of apologies is in order, and after that we can all forget it.”

“I ain’t apologizin’ to him after what he said,” Slim said stubbornly.

“All right,” Griffen said, turning to the other two. “Lowell, Gustov, on behalf of the conclave, let me apologize for any offense offered you tonight. We know that there are a lot of old grudges and biases here, and we’re all trying to work past them.”

“Thank you, Mr. McCandles,” the vampire said. “I, too, must apologize for my comments. They were said in the heat of the moment when I felt I was being challenged.”

“And thank you, Lowell,” Griffen said with a slight bow. “Now, if we’re all… Slim?”

Slim was ten yards away, striding off down the Moonwalk with his shoulders in an angry set.

Apparently not everyone was ready to forgive and forget.