“Moderator . . . good,” it said slowly.
“Think he means you is a good moderator, or that it’s good the moderator is here?” Slim asked.
“Both,” the creature answered.
Slim started, obviously having not expected an answer. Griffen could swear the fronds on the “spirit’s” face were twisting, smiling. It was disturbing and comforting all at once.
“Waited,” it said.
Griffen pulled up all his courage and took a step forward.
“Waited for what? Why?” Griffen said.
“For you . . . witness. Must be fair.”
It moved slowly, a complicated procedure involving all of its seemingly separate plants. Both Griffen and Slim had to hold themselves back from reacting as it bent over the fallen garou. Griffen watched closely, waiting for any sign of violence. No matter how unknown or dangerous the thing might be, he wasn’t going to let it harm an unconscious man if he could help it.
After a few moments it stood again. In its massive hand, it held the garou’s wallet. Griffen stared as it pulled out several large bills, then dropped the billfold next to the unconscious body. It held the bills to its chest, and they were sucked one by one into the ooze, disappearing into the depths.
Griffen couldn’t hide the shock in his voice as pieces clicked together.
“He owed you money!?” Griffen said.
Massive shoulders shrugged like trees bending together in the wind.
“It’s New Orleans,” it said in its ponderous voice.
Slim choked back a laugh. Griffen felt more like groaning. He rubbed his palm over his eyes and his fingers against his temples. He was really going to have to think about finding some way to improve security. This could have gone much worse.
“Look, as thankful as I am that you aren’t some slaughtering monster, you can’t leave by the front door. Even on Rampart it would get talked about,” Griffen said.
The creature nodded, and again Griffen was almost sure it was smiling. He watched as it leaned over the sink, bent forward, and slowly slid into the drain. Pieces that Griffen were sure would be too large flowed together with slurping, sucking noises. Something about the process strained Griffen’s eyes till he had to look away. By the time he had blinked and looked back, the creature was gone, an industrial-strength ring around the sink and a few marks on floor and ceiling the only thing left to show that it had ever been there.
Those signs, and a shape-shifter on the floor who promptly lifted up his head, apparently not so unconscious after all.
“Is she gone?” he asked.
“She?!” Slim and Griffen exclaimed together.
This time Slim didn’t try to hold back his laughter. Griffen fought down the urge to throw up his hands as he marched out of the room. Before leaving, he instructed the young shifter to find a mop and clean up.
He could just see this bunch leaving things for the hotel’s maid staff.
Thirty-four
Mai had been thinking. Of course, she was always thinking, but a particular train of thought had captivated her attention. She had been thinking about faces.
Faces. She presented so many different ones to different people. Lover and confidante, unnoticed power, old enemy. She was all of these and more, depending on the situation, and the people involved. That was part of the great game that she truly loved. The many different and varied roles one had to play. Some false, some second nature, some true nature.
Some more honest than others.
There was one face, one role, that she had been slacking off on lately, an unexpected role that she had slipped into without realizing, one that she found fitted her better than she would ever have guessed. As soon as she realized how little she had played it lately, she knew it was time to take it up again. Decision made, she made her plans and found herself at Valerie’s apartment door early one afternoon.
It was time to be a friend.
She flung the door open dramatically, standing straight and tall and looking as authoritative as possible. Knowing that if the door was unlocked Valerie was in, and probably doing nothing more than watching TV on her couch. Sure enough, Val looked up from the couch, startled by the entrance.
“Get up. We are going shopping,” Mai declared.
She knew that statement to Val was even more random and surprising than her sudden entrance. Sure enough, the other dragon gave her head a shake and stuck one finger in her ear as if to clear it.
“Say that again slow.”
Mai grinned, letting herself relax.
“I mean it. You are turning into a lump. All you seem to do lately is work, work out, worry about your brother, and pretend nothing is going on in your own life.”
Val smiled a bit, shock wearing off, and ticked Mai’s list off on her own fingers.
“Seems like a full docket to me,” she said.
“Shows what you know. I’m bored and thus declare a day of shopping, bonding, and associated madness. Come along nicely, and no one gets hurt.”
“So, you are bored, and I get dragged along for the ride.” Mai faked a gasp.
“You impugn my intentions? This is all for you. Suck it up, girl, and I’ll bring along Daddy’s credit card to salve your wounds.”
Val smiled more. Mai enjoyed bantering with Val; they both knew it meant both more and less than it seemed to.
“Daddy, huh?” Val said.
“Well . . . someone’s daddy certainly. You know I must protect my sources.”
“Spy.”
“Lump.”
Val threw her hands up in surrender and got to her feet. Mai stepped into the apartment and let the door close behind her.
“Go get dressed and off we go,” Mai said.
Val looked down at herself, and Mai could practically hear the old discussion popping up. Not that there was anything wrong with that. It was a familiar and fun one. Mai simply would never understand Val’s sense of fashion, or lack thereof. For such an attractive woman, she seemed to do her best to hide it. Even alone in her apartment, Mai would never be caught dead in sweats. Sweats that didn’t even match.
“I am dressed, Short Stack.”
“No, Gigantia, you are clothed. Not the same thing.”
Val rolled her eyes and stomped melodramatically off to her room to change. Mai had to hand it to her, when she wanted to stomp, she stomped. Mai eased into an easy chair to wait, a small smile on her face.
A friend! Who would have thought it?
Two hours and half a dozen shops later, the two and a small mountain of bags were in a small boutique on Royal looking at hats. It didn’t matter that neither one ever wore hats, or that hats in general were very much out of style for anyone who looked under forty. Practicality had little to do with a shopping day.
Usually most of the bags would have been Mai’s, but there was something infectious about Mai when she really got going. Plus, since she was mildly irritated by Val’s reluctance to spend on herself, she often snatched items that Val liked and paid for them while the other was still in the changing room. Or slipped the clerk her card, so that when Val’s pride demanded she “pay her own way” she would find it already covered. Even friends could get caught up in power games.
Mostly, though, this was giving them time to catch up and talk. Mai started on safe topics, Val’s work mainly. Then steered the conversation slowly to where she was interested. At the moment, while fingering a feathered monstrosity she couldn’t imagine anyone would actually put on her head, she was telling Val how Griffen had managed to get caught up with both her and Fox Lisa.
“Really?” Val said, laughing. “Strip pai gow?”
“Yeah, and he didn’t see it coming. Can’t believe you haven’t heard that one before,” Mai said.
“Well, you never told me, and I don’t spend much time with Lisa.”
“And Griffen?”
“Brothers!” Val rolled her eyes. “He’s all about sticking his overprotective nose in my love life. But as soon a
s I turn it around, he gets embarrassed and shrugs me off. Big baby.”
Mai chuckled, but her eyes narrowed a bit, and her tone went just a touch sly.
“So . . . about your love life.”
“What about it?” Val said, expression faltering.
“Oh, so you can shrug it off, too? Maybe it’s not a brother trait after all but a McCandles one.”
Val looked at her surroundings. Most of the shops they had visited were big on personal attention, pampering that usually wasn’t found in these mall-filled consumer days. Unfortunately, that meant there was a shopgirl pretending not to eavesdrop a few feet away. Mai watched her gather up her bags.
“Come on. If we are going to dish, I’m going to need something hot and bad for me,” Val said.
“Sounds like your love life, all right,” Mai said.
Val glared at her, a very unfriendly look, and Mai waved to the shopkeeper as they headed back out to the street. Mai followed, though she had pretty much figured they were headed to Café Du Monde and Val’s favorite sweet vices.
“I wasn’t shrugging it off,” Val said.
Mai fell into step next to her and a little behind. She glanced at Val and cocked her head.
“If you say so.”
“What I meant was that there isn’t anything to discuss. Cold turkey,” Val said.
“Mmm, from what I hear it wasn’t too long ago you were seen knocking on Gris-gris’s door. And that sounded like anything but cold.”
Mai had to stop and turn around. Val had stopped in her tracks. Mai shrugged.
“It’s the Quarter. Word gets around.”
“Heard from who, Mai?” Val said.
“Not Gris-gris, if that’s what you mean. Doubt he told anyone who didn’t ask him directly. It was third-person by the time it got to me. Remember”—Mai darkened her expression and her tone—“the Lucky Dog vendors see all.”
Val shook her head and started walking again. Mai had expected at least a laugh from her but didn’t push it. After half a block of silence, Val spoke up.
“So what did it sound like, then?”
“What?”
“If not cold turkey, then . . .”
“Oh. Aggressive. That was the word I liked best. ‘Aggressive, ’ ” Mai said.
She could practically see Val rolling the word over her tongue, testing it out.
“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Val said finally.
“And since then?”
Mai watched Val weigh exactly how much to say. Val simply didn’t have enough practice at disguising her true feelings, and Mai had practiced reading people longer than Val had been alive. Though Mai wouldn’t kid herself; she knew her friend had more powerful blood. Still, experience beats power.
“Nothing . . . Well, not much. I sort of got invited to this masked ball,” Val said.
Mai grinned, that sounded promising.
“By who?”
“George.”
This time Mai stopped in her tracks, and for all her inscrutable behavior, felt her jaw drop. Val kept walking, and Mai realized belatedly that her friend had dropped that bombshell with expert precision. By the time she caught up, Val’s grin was wide enough to make the cat with a canary blush through his fur.
“Bitch,” Mai muttered.
“Yep. You had it coming,” Val said.
“How could I not hear about this?”
“You don’t know everything that is going on in the world? Gasp, shock, better turn in your junior decoder ring. You’re a has-been.”
Mai thought sourly that Val was definitely enjoying this far too much. Also, that her gibes were hitting a bit too close to home. Her face gave away too much, and she saw Val back-pedal a bit mentally.
“Relax. The only ones there were Griffen, George, and me. I doubted that George would be blabbing it about, and Griffen...”
“Has had his head up his ass lately,” Mai said.
“Well, up the conclave anyway, which smells about the same.”
By now the two had crossed Jackson Square and were settling into chairs at the café. Unlike the shops, Café Du Monde was a wonderful place to talk semiprivately. The waiters were quick, and cash was collected as soon as the food arrived, and then they vanished to serve others and never appeared till it was time to clear dishes.
Mai was a coffee girl, Val hot chocolate. That said much about them. They both had an order of beignets, with an extra order to split.
“Okay, so talk to me, girlfriend. Why would you date George after he nearly killed your brother?”
Mai had to remind herself that other than rumor and the story of Griffen’s confrontation with the dragon hunter, she was not supposed to know George. Certainly not on any personal or professional level.
“Mainly I think he did it to get on Griffen’s nerves. I won’t flatter myself to think he really is doing it because he is interested in me or apologetic over bashing my head in at our last meeting.”
“Especially not after you emptied a shotgun into him,” Mai said innocently.
“Exactly.”
Val smiled slyly and sipped her hot chocolate. Maybe, Mai thought, she wasn’t so amateurish in controlling her expression after all.
“Of course, you stated why he might want to ask you along to the dance, not why you would accept,” Mai said, just as innocently.
“I have my reasons,” Val said.
Here was the real crux. Mai had been noticing changes in Val that could not be explained by her pregnancy. At least not in such early stages. Though it might cost what little she’d gained, she felt she had to press on.
“Reasons you don’t want to share, even with me. Come on, Big Butt. You’ve been stressing over something for a while now. Something that has you working out three times as hard as you ever have since I met you. Isn’t it about time you shared with someone?”
Mai waited on pins and needles. She had spent her arrow and had no idea whether it would hit its mark. As inconsequential as this conversation might be, she felt more exhilarated than she had in months.
“I was attacked,” Val said quietly.
Bull’s-eye.
Mai silently ran over possibilities in her mind.
“If you had simply been mugged, it wouldn’t have mattered. You would have wiped the floor with them. What do you mean, attacked?”
“Tell me, Mai. You obviously knew Nathaniel. Did . . . does he have any sisters?”
Pieces fell together with a clack. Mai didn’t like how they added up.
“A few, only one of whom I can think of who might do you harm.”
“Lizzy?”
Mai’s train of thought reached an exploding bridge of a conclusion. She almost shuddered thinking of Lizzy meeting Val. As composed as she was, she couldn’t help her reactions.
“God, you are lucky to be alive,” Mai said.
Val looked at her for a long moment, and whatever she saw seemed to reassure her. She nodded, and bit into another beignet.
“So,” Val said, “you see why I might want to accept the acquaintance of a professional dragon hunter.”
It was a statement, not a question. Still, Mai found herself trapped between two roles, two faces. She knew what she would do as a manipulator and what she would do as a friend. They were not the same course of action. And the conflict, as deep and sharp a conflict as she had felt in years, had only one resolution.
She had to try to be a friend.
“So call him, dummy,” Mai said, and hoped Val wouldn’t hear her reluctance.
“What do you mean?” Val said.
“Surely he gave you a way to contact him. You aren’t the type to let a man, any man, defend you. Why the hell aren’t you on the horn with him asking for advice. Tips. Training?”
Val looked at Mai for another long moment. Without responding, she reached down and pulled out her cell phone. A few numbers later, she was speaking into it.
“George?” Val said.
Mai focused on her ears, exte
nding her senses in a way that few nondragons could.
“Ms. McCandles,” George said on the other end. “Called to make arrangements?”
“Perhaps, but not for the date. We need to meet, George. Someplace big, someplace open. Someplace without witnesses,” Val said.
There was a long pause on the other end of the phone.
“Is this a challenge? A fight?” George said.
“Something like that, only we should both walk away after. If you want a date, Georgey boy, you are going to damn well earn one,” Val said.
Mai could just make out George’s low chuckle on the other end of the line.
“Oh, really. Very well. I will call you back with a time and place. And soon, because you have intrigued me, Ms. McCandles.”
“Valerie,” Val said, as automatically as her brother would have said “Griffen,” “and good. I will expect your call.”
Valerie closed the phone, and when her eyes met Mai’s, they were filled with uncertainty. Uncertainty that grew when she saw a bit of answering insecurity in Mai’s eyes.
“What? That seemed right,” Val said.
“It was,” Mai answered. “I am just realizing. With everything going on . . . I am going to have to secure my own invitation to this damn ball.”
Thirty-five
“How could you be so stupid?”
Flynn dug his fingers into his thigh, pain helping control his temper. It was that or crush the flimsy cell phone in his hand, and he didn’t have the time or energy to replace it. Years of practice meant he did not start to grow scales or claws or anything similar, yet the impulse was close.
“I’m sorry, sir,” a thin, contrite voice said on the other end.
“Do you have any idea what that will cost me in the long run? That no-talent hack could have been president one day! And you let him sign on with another firm,” Flynn said.
“But, sir, you said he wasn’t important. That your project there was far more valuable, and I should just handle it as best I could.”
“I had assumed your best wasn’t quite so inadequate. Why did I ever let your mother talk me into hiring you?” Flynn said.
Dragons Luck Page 19
