Dragons Wild (24 page)

At first, Griffen took little notice of the spatters on the sidewalk.

Mostly, he was coming to grips with exactly how spooked he was by the events of the last week. He didn’t usually come in this early, but somehow cruising the Quarter late at night had lost its appeal. He realized now that he had been reluctant to come out at all. It wasn’t so much that he was scared. Just totally out of his depth.

Voodoo queens and dope dealers. People using animals to spy on him or perhaps even to attack him. Life on the University of Michigan campus in sleepy small-town Ann Arbor had failed to prepare him for this.

The now familiar scenery of the Quarter suddenly seemed a bit ominous and threatening. Was the rolling boom box that had cruised past him a few blocks ago just showing off, or was it one of the packs of dope dealers keeping tabs on him? Was it his imagination, or did the tarot readers on the Square stop talking to each other to watch him as he walked past?

He suddenly focused on the splatters on the sidewalk. Originally he had dismissed them as splashes or a leak from some tourist’s go-cup. But the red was too dark for a hurricane, the lethal rum drinks they served at Pat O’s. Besides, they were too regularly spaced.

It was blood! Someone who passed by recently was bleeding!

Griffen stopped in his tracks and studied the splatters. Squinting slightly, he tried to see how far ahead of and behind him they extended.

The immediate problem was, they seemed to be the same size in both directions. Was he walking away from whoever was bleeding, or walking up on them from behind. Given a choice, which would he want it to be?

Lacking any data or plan to base his moves on, he decided to continue on home. It was a block and a half farther, and if he made it without incident, it would be someone else’s problem.

Watching the street around him, he proceeded. There was someone sitting on the curb at the corner ahead. Griffen was about to cross the street, when he recognized the figure as Gris-gris.

“Hey, Gris-gris,” he said, approaching the man.

“That you, Mr. Griffen?” Gris-gris said, looking up.

“Yeah. Say, did you notice…”

Griffen suddenly realized the man was hunched forward slightly, pressing his hand against his side.

“Hey,” he said. “Are you all right?”

“Some dude stabbed me,” Gris-gris said. “Just walked up and nailed me as I was walking along.”

“Hold tight. I’ll call an ambulance,” Griffen said, reaching for his cell phone.

“Don’t bother,” Gris-gris said. “I’ve been stabbed before, and worse than this. Couple stitches and some tape and I’ll be fine. It’s more embarrassing than anything.”

Griffen had run into this before in the Quarter, but still wasn’t used to it. Where he came from, if you were hurt you went to a doctor or an emergency room. Here, people tended to doctor themselves, up to and including setting broken bones.

“Who did it? Did you recognize him?”

Griffen was thinking of the dope dealers he had tangled with recently.

“Never saw him before,” Gris-gris said. “That’s why he caught me flat-footed. Just some white dude. ’Bout your height, military haircut, built like a football player. Thing was, he knew me. That’s why I come looking for you.”

“What do you mean?” Griffen frowned.

“It’s what he said after he stabbed me,” Gris-gris said, wincing slightly. “He said, ‘Stay away from Valerie. This is to let you know I mean it.’ Then he just walked away. Didn’t even run.”

“Valerie?” Griffen said, trying to absorb the information.

“That’s how I know he knew me, or leastwise that I’ve been seeing your sister. I thought you should know, so I came looking for you.”

With a stab wound in his side, Griffen thought.

“You sure you don’t want me to call an ambulance?” he said aloud.

“Naw. Jumbo’s working door tonight on Bourbon,” Gris-gris said. “He’ll patch me up. Bouncers keep a pretty good first-aid kit on hand all the time.”

“At least let me walk you there,” Griffen said.

Gris-gris flashed a smile.

“That’d just be embarrassing,” he said. “Like I say, the dude shouldn’t have been able to walk up on me that way. The fewer that know about it, the better I like it. Just help me up and I’ll be on my way.”

Griffen thought as he watched Gris-gris walk away, no more unsteady on his feet than half the drunks in the Quarter.

What exactly was going on?

From what he had heard of the George, it wasn’t like him to threaten, much less injure a bystander. What was more, the comment about Valerie would make no sense.

He had met Nathaniel, the guy Valerie was currently dating, but Gris-gris had seen him as well and would have recognized him. Was she seeing someone else? Was it just another jealous clash, or was there something deeper involved. Because she kept a low profile, Griffen tended to forget that she was a coming-of-age dragon, too. Maybe there were others not as inclined to forget.

He realized something else as well. He wasn’t spooked by what was happening anymore. Instead, he was getting mad.

Wednesday was pool-league night and the Irish pub was crowded when they rolled in. Jerome was trying unsuccessfully to explain to Griffen about the Saints.

“I know it’s crazy,” he said. “But that’s the way it is. However lousy their last season was, the fans still hang in there and follow them. I am; last year was one of their worst seasons ever, and people are still lining up to buy season tickets.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense,” Griffen said. “I mean, if it’s basically the same team and the same coaching staff, won’t the fans bail out on them?”

“The publicity people always manage to cook up some line, and everybody eats it up. The starting quarterback, Aaron Brooks, had an injured shoulder during the final games of last season and gave a piss-poor performance. The fans wanted him replaced, but Haslett insists that now that his shoulder is better, he’ll be his old self again. People believe it because they want to believe.”

Griffen shrugged.

“If you say so.”

“You’ve just been spoiled cheering for the Wolverines.” Jerome laughed, elbowing his way to a spot at the bar. “It’s always easy to cheer for a team that’s a perennial winner. It takes a special kind of fan to keep cheering for a team that usually ends up in the bottom third of the division.”

The bartender set their usual drinks in front of them.

“These are on the lady at the table by the door.”

They craned their necks around for a look, then turned quickly back to the bar.

There was a moment’s silence, then Griffen spoke.

“Didn’t you tell me something about how the locals here in the Quarter will never give you away to an outsider?”

“That’s the way it usually is,” Jerome said softly. He beckoned the bartender over. “What did you tell her…exactly?”

“I didn’t tell her anything,” the bartender said. “She came in an hour ago and ordered a white wine, then said that when Griffen came in, she’d buy the first round for him and anyone he was with. I assumed she was someone you knew. Why? Is something wrong?”

“Oh, we know her all right,” Griffen said. “I just didn’t expect to see her here.”

He glanced over at the table again, and made eye contact this time. The woman waved gaily and beckoned him over.

He gathered up his drink.

“Well,” he sighed, “I might as well find out what she wants.”

He picked his way through the crowd, pausing for a moment to let someone complete their shot on the pool table, then pulled up a chair at the woman’s table.

“Long time, no see, Mai,” he said. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Watching them shoot pool,” Mai said easily. “Some of these shooters are really good. You got a piece of this action?”

“It’s a pool league,” Griffen said. “They’re shooting for trophies…and you haven’t answered the question. What are you doing here? Don’t try to kid me that you came all the way to New Orleans to watch the locals shoot pool.”

Mai cocked her head like a bird and looked at him.

“Isn’t it obvious?” she said. “I came down here to see you.”

“Right,” Griffen said with a grimace. “Just like old times. If I recall correctly, though, the last time we saw each other you walked out on me in the middle of dinner.”

“Sorry about that,” Mai said, wrinkling her nose. “I had to report in that you not only had been brought on board with your dragon heritage, but that you suspected that I knew more about dragons than I had let on.”

“So now you admit it,” Griffen said.

“Of course.” She shrugged. “Now that you’ve had some time to get used to the idea and to settle in down here, I thought I’d drop in and say ‘Hi.’”

“That’s all? Just say ‘Hi’?” Griffen pressed.

“Don’t be silly,” Mai said. “I’m supposed to do what I was doing before. Keep an eye on you for the Eastern dragons…like Jerome was doing for Mose.”

“I see,” Griffen said. “And now that I know you know, and you know I know you know, I’m supposed to just ignore all that and let you hang around as a self-admitted spy?”

Mai reached across the table and took hold of his hand.

“Don’t be like that, lover,” she said. “That’s only what the Eastern dragons think I’m doing. I’ve got my own agenda this time around.”

“And what would that be?”

She sighed and pursed her lips.

“Well, I was going to work up to this slowly,” she said, “but since you’ve asked I might as well cut to the chase. In a nutshell, there’s a faction of the Eastern dragons, specifically the young ones, who want to throw their support behind you. I’m here as their spokesperson to approach you and see if we can work something out.”

Griffen leaned back in his chair and stared at her. Suddenly, the noise of the pool matches seemed far away.

“I…I don’t know what to say, Mai,” he managed at last. “That’s something that had never even occurred to me. I’d have to hear a lot more about what it entailed before I could even start thinking about it.”

“Of course,” Mai said. “In the meantime, though, I have a present for you. Call it a token of goodwill.”

She rummaged in her purse for a moment, then produced a small notebook, which she shoved across the table to Griffen.

“You know how Asians love to gamble?” she said. “Well, here’s a list of local Asians who run various gambling concerns. After I talked to them, they all want to sign on with your organization.”

Griffen blinked at her.

“What exactly are they expecting from me?”

“Just to be included in your network,” she said. “They want to use your spotters to steer tourists into their games…and maybe get included in the police protection you’ve set up. In return, you get a percentage of their action.”

Griffen felt a quick spike of greed. If Mai’s offer was legitimate, then not only would it mean some major monies for the operation’s coffers, it would be a feather in his cap for bringing the new games on board.

“Am I expected to help run their operations?” he said carefully. “I mean, I’ve heard of mah-jongg and fan-tan and pai gow, but I don’t have the foggiest idea of how they’re played.”

“I can teach you enough for you to get by,” Mai said, laying her hand on his arm. “It’ll be fun.”

“Hi, lover.”

Fox Lisa was suddenly standing there. Though she spoke to Griffen, her eyes were locked on Mai.

“Who’s the fortune cookie?”

Griffen rose to his feet, shedding Mai’s hand as he stood.

“Mai, this is Fox Lisa,” he said. “Lisa, this is Mai, an old friend of mine from college.”

“With the emphasis on the ‘old,’” Lisa said, baring her teeth at Mai.

Mai flowed to her feet. To Griffen, it almost looked like a cobra raising its head and spreading its hood. Even though Mai was a full head shorter than Fox Lisa, she suddenly looked larger.

“With the emphasis on the ‘we’ve been lovers for a long time,’” she corrected. “Little girl, you don’t really want to go sideways to me. I don’t mind sharing once in a while…and that could be fun, too…but nobody takes from me. You may have a bit of the blood in you, but you aren’t dragon enough to go head-to-head with me.”

“How about me?” Valerie was suddenly there, looking at Mai over Lisa’s head. “Am I dragon enough to qualify?”

“You must be the sister,” Mai said with a smile. “
You
I’ve been looking forward to meeting.”

A hand fell on Griffen’s shoulder, pulling him backward. It was Jerome.

“I need to talk to you, Grifter,” he said. “Now!”

“But…” Griffen gestured weakly at the three women, but they didn’t even spare him a glance.

“Now!” Jerome repeated, leading Griffen the few steps to the bar.

“What is it?” Griffen said, craning his neck to try to watch the confrontation.

The three women were seated now. Mai and Valerie were maintaining an erect posture, eyes locked. Fox Lisa was leaning forward, speaking rapidly.

“Remember what I told you way back when about female dragons?” Jerome said, stepping to block the line of sight. “Well, believe me, Young Dragon, you do
not
want to be in the middle of that right now.”

“Uh-huh.” Griffen said absently.

“Damn it. Pay attention!” Jerome snapped. “Think of the Chicago fire. The San Francisco earthquake.”

“Yeah. So?”

“So bad things happen when female dragons get together and start quarreling.” Jerome said. “In fact, there’s only one thing I can think of that’s worse.”

There was a sudden burst of laughter, and both men turned to look. The three women were sitting with their heads together now, grinning and giggling like schoolgirls.

“Don’t tell me,” Griffen said. “Let me guess.”

“Got it in one,” Jerome said with a sigh. “The only thing worse than female dragons quarreling is when they get together and really hit it off.”

Griffen had started to make semiregular visits to Mose. Part of it was updates and planning sessions for the organization. Griffen had free rein for the most part, but he also had the sense to use Mose as an experienced mentor and sounding board. Besides, it was expected that they should meet, a sign of respect. Somehow the Quarter rumor mill always seemed to know when Griffen had passed through Mose’s gates, though never any hint of what was discussed inside.

The other part of these meetings was further training and learning about just what it was to be a dragon. After all these weeks, Griffen still had more questions than answers. Though Mose claimed not to have all the answers the young dragon would need, he certainly had more than the young man had. In fact, it didn’t hurt to have Mose around just while Griffen practiced on his own. The older man knew what signs of progress or problems to look for.

Today Griffen seemed more preoccupied than most. Mose had to keep repeating himself to get his attention. It was as if something had been nagging at Griffen, and he just didn’t know how to put it into words.

“So just spill it already,” Mose said.

“Huh?”

Griffen shook his head and realized that Mose had been giving him a piercing gaze for about five minutes. He flushed a bit and shook his head.

“What do you mean, Mose?”

“Well, something sure has you distracted today. New gal in your life?”

“Old one come back again…but no, that’s not quite it.”

“So why don’t you tell me what it is, so we can stop wasting both our time. I swear you haven’t heard half what I’ve said since you came in.”

“You’d probably be right. Okay, Mose. Tell me about glamour.”

It was Mose’s turn to say “huh” and give Griffen another hard look. He gathered his thoughts carefully.

“That’s some random train of thought you’ve got, Grifter. Before I start, though, I’ve got to ask, who you thinking of putting the glamour on?”

“What? No no no, other way around maybe. How do you tell if it’s being done? How do you counter it? That sort of thing.”

“Ah…Well, damn, son, if it will set your mind at ease, I can see right off that no one’s got a glamour on you.”

“You can see it?”

“Yes and no, you can see the change in the person, maybe something in the eye. The heavier it’s been laid, the longer it lasts, the more you can see the signs.”

“Okay, this is a good start. But, Mose, it wasn’t me I was worried about.”

“Damn, that might change things. Okay, let’s start with the basics. What do you know or think you know about glamour?”

“Nothing really. It’s only been mentioned in passing, I’m honestly surprised I remembered the name. From what I can tell, it’s something between supercharisma and the Jedi mind trick.”

“Okay, give me a moment, this isn’t going to be easy.”

Mose leaned back in his chair and half closed his eyes in thought. Every once in a while his lips would purse, as if he were trying on a word for fit. Griffen watched, his curiosity growing. None of his questions so far had required quite this level of thought. He wondered why this one topic was so different.

“Glamour is a tricksie thing,” Mose said finally.

“Tricksie?” Griffen couldn’t help himself.

“Back off, we’re talking about glamour for crying out loud. Just be glad I’m not going to bring elves and fairies into the damn mix.”

“Good…I don’t think I want to know.”

“Me neither. And that’s part of the problem. I don’t do glamour; I don’t know many who do. It’s not anything as simple as your growing scales or fire breathing.”

“Simple?”

Griffen didn’t try to keep the irony and sarcasm out of his tone. His experience with such powers had been all involuntarily, and down right awkward. Hearing it referred to as simple added to his frustration. Mose narrowed his eyes.

“Yeah, simple. Look, things like that, it doesn’t matter much how it happens. As long as you know how to trigger it. Like your muscles, does it matter the chemical exchange that makes one tighten and another loosen so your arm bends? Not really, as long as you can bend your arm at will, and instinctually if in danger.”

“And glamour is different?”

“Yeah, it is. There are a handful of powers out there…well, that doesn’t matter just now. Glamour is all about perception. Part of it is the dragon’s natural charisma. But that becomes augmented, and just how depends on the person who’s doing it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, to be blunt, I don’t think I could teach you glamour if I tried, I’m not even sure you could manage it. Because part of it is a lie to the victim, but another part is lying to yourself. And lying to yourself on purpose is a tricky business. You have to believe what you are making them believe, but, of course, a part of you knows it’s just the magic. You can see the pitfalls in that?”

“I think I need a drink; I almost understood that.”

“Yeah, pour us both one. And remember, this ain’t exactly my area. I’m passing on thirdhand knowledge at best.”

Griffen got up and poured the drinks. As he passed one to Mose, he raised his in silent toast and they both drank. Griffen sighed as he sat back in the chair.

“I would never have believed I’d run into something that made fire breathing seem simple,” he said.

“You’re still young; you’ll run into a lot more,” Mose said. “In the oldest legends glamour and illusion were almost the same. One could be made to see monsters and nightmares and all sorts of things. Though I haven’t heard of anything like that in the modern world, so it’s probably just myth.”

“Okay, this is all very confusing. Let’s get back to basics; how can you counter it? Does just knowing it is happening act as defense? Or does it take more.”

“Knowing what’s going on helps, and can keep you protected against casual leakage. But against a direct attack, it takes a bit more. Glamour of your own is the best. But really all you need is an exertion of will to reassert your personal perspective.”

“Which is done how?”

“Well, for you, you could probably just think hard. But actually this is where some of the old legends about counter curses and protective charms pop up from. You can use an object, some words, or even a hand gesture to focus your will behind. A physical reminder of what you are doing.”

“Oh, great, psychic cue cards.”

“Something like that. Also, if you are real good, with the physical aide you can disrupt them entirely. Their own lie falters, so if they are spreading their attention and affecting a room a little push from you can free the whole group. But it’s harder if they are just focused on one individual.”

“Could glamour be used to force someone to kill another?”

“Not that I know of, at least not if that killing goes against the person’s deepest nature. Again, the old legends…well, you might trick someone into thinking the person they were killing was someone or something else. Still, I think that’s pure myth, though.”

“I’m finding this real hard to believe,” Griffen said.

“But it fits what you’ve already suspected,” Mose said.

“Yeah. Yeah, it does. I think Valerie’s taken up with someone who’s more than he seems.”

“Huh, well, maybe I could take a look at her; see if she’s under a ’fluence.”

“From what you’ve said, only a few people have serious talent at this, even in dragon circles. Any idea who might be targeting Valerie?”

“Too early to say, I might know better when I see her. It’s such a style thing that if I’ve seen their work before I’ll recognize it.”

“And can I use my will to break her hold?”

“Yes and no, you can help, but with a dragon of her stature, you will also have to teach her how to break it. As soon as it comes from within, everything that he has laid on her should crumble like a badly made house of cards.”

“Good.”

“One more thing, Griffen, and this is purely from what I’ve heard. If I had a guess, touch would amplify it. Don’t ask why, pheromones directly, a direct channel to the psyche, I don’t know. But keep your guard up. Story goes, when two glamour users touch and go to war, the effects on the loser are devastating.”

“How devastating?”

“Well, the loser is pretty much stripped of his will, and the winner’s own is imposed directly.”

Mose paused and sipped his drink, and a small tremor ran through his body. If Griffen didn’t know any better, he would have thought the man was afraid.

“This here being New Orleans. Ever heard of zombies?”