Dragons Luck

by Robert Asprin

  “Because it was the only way you could get her to sign a nudity clause in her contract, sir, and you owed the studio head.”

  “Yes, well, her career has been over for a year. So your career is over now. I’m calling security next to make sure you clean out your desk without any fuss.”

  Flynn disconnected, cutting off any further protests from the lackey on the other end. If he admitted the truth to himself, he should never have let the kid handle such a job. He just hadn’t thought the actor in question bright enough to jump on his current absence. Still, he had to set an example. Besides, he was still disappointed over the low box-office returns off his mother.

  “Hey, Flynn, mind if I join you?”

  He looked up, surprised to see Griffen McCandles leaning over the railing that surrounded the tables at the Café Du Monde. He smiled, openly to Griffen, inwardly to himself. The folly back at the office aside, the deal he was working on certainly did have the potential to be great. More important, since Mai’s little encounter, it was proving to be more and more intriguing.

  It was a good thing, to be able to enjoy one’s work.

  “Sure, Griffen, come on over and order something. Excuse me, though, while I finish up a little business.”

  Griffen nodded and moved around the railing and into the café proper. Flynn dialed his office number, and the extension to on-site security. If the son was anything like his mother, he would throw a temper tantrum before leaving.

  “This is Flynn,” he said, as the line was picked up. “I’ve fired Bradley . . . Yes, that’s the one. Let him make some fuss, draw some attention, then put him out on his ass . . . Yes, that’s right, he’s the example of the year . . . Good. I’ll call back for a report later.”

  He hung up and noticed Griffen looking at him a little oddly. He didn’t think the young dragon could pick up on his tension, his anger over the whole issue. Minor though it was. After a few quick thoughts, he decided to probe the issue.

  “Never fired anyone?” Flynn asked.

  “Not directly, no; when I first got started, I set some policy. Made people make a choice, but there weren’t any big issues with the organization itself. Just some of those connected on the periphery,” Griffen said.

  “Well, sometimes it’s necessary. Particularly if someone messes up badly.”

  “What, no second chances?”

  Flynn picked up his coffee and sipped, letting the bitterness roll over his tongue. He was more in the mood for that than the too-sweet beignets so popular here.

  “Sometimes, depends on whether you judge a second chance will do any good. Sometimes you’ve got to know when to cut your losses. More important, you have to remember, as head of an organization, that punishing one person harshly helps keep many more from repeating their mistakes. Or committing worse ones.”

  Griffen’s own drink and a plate of beignets came, and he reached for the confection first. Flynn watched him carefully as he bit into the corner, and a small cloud of powdered sugar rose. He seemed thoughtful, even moody. Or was Flynn projecting his own feelings on him?

  “Tell me more about this policy you set and why you set it. Was it for your good or your people’s?” Flynn asked.

  “I’d like to think both. I think you’ve heard something about the aftermath, but I decided my people either dealt drugs or worked for me. Not both. I didn’t want such a dangerous and messy business ruining the lives of those around me.”

  “Sounds like a good decision though made more from a moral ground than thinking of the business itself.”

  “Pretty much. Same reason I’m sorry to say I can’t take your advice on using the local druggies as security. It’s just too much like going back on my own word.”

  Flynn nearly bit his tongue and had to keep from spitting out his coffee.

  “What? After trying to help, you throw it back at me?”

  “No, no, it’s nothing like that. It’s just—”

  “It’s that bitch Mai, isn’t it?”

  Flynn regretted the outburst as soon as he said it. Yes, he had been heavy-handed with some of his advice to Griffen, but never casually. This was the first move he had made that had not been at all premeditated. He saw Griffen lean back, his eyes narrowing.

  “No . . . in fact Mai has never mentioned you at all. Where do you know her from?”

  Of course, Mai wouldn’t mention him directly. She would use a cat’s-paw, if she were involved with this aspect of the game at all. Flynn cursed silently but didn’t let a moment’s hesitation show as he gave Griffen lies in the form of half-truths.

  “I know her family, and her since she was little. She has never liked me, or liked my ways, I might say.”

  “What ways would those be?”

  “Mai has never been good at full honesty, at openness. Her nature is much more subtle.”

  True, Flynn thought, every word of it. Not telling him anything, or even coming close to answering his question, but it should be enough.

  “Well, I can’t debate that. I don’t really know how much she hides.”

  “Well, if I may . . . just how old do you think she is?” Flynn said.

  “Good point. I knew her in school, but that’s also where I met Jerome. And I know he is a lot older than he pretended.”

  “Griffen, maybe I’m speaking out of turn, but it’s my feeling you should know what you can about your allies. As far as I know, Mai is older than Jerome.”

  “Still, Flynn, I just don’t think dealing with the local gangs is the way to go. They just don’t seem prepared to do anything but shoot at people.”

  Flynn shrugged and kept the relief off his face. Two steps back, one forward. He rolled with Griffen’s change of subject.

  “What about my other idea, some form of tracking?”

  “It sounds good . . . but how would I pull it off? Somehow I don’t think I can convince them to walk around with transmitters in their pockets.”

  Flynn cocked his head and reached out. His fingers brushed a set of small black and red beads woven around Griffen’s neck.

  “The person who made these should be able to make similar. For one good at such crafting, it should be child’s play.”

  “Really?”

  Griffen took the beads off and ran them through his fingers. Flynn nodded and kept his smile easy and warm.

  “Look, Griffen, forgive me for snapping. Tough day at the office, even though I’m not there. Actually, I kind of miss being there.”

  “I do appreciate the time and advice, Flynn, it’s just I have to follow my own gut, too.”

  “Sure you do, that’s what makes you a dragon. No harm, no foul.”

  Griffen nodded and put the necklace back on. He reached for his wallet, but Flynn waved him off. Soon he was watching the young man walk off across the square.

  He picked up his cell phone. Still seething, and needing someone to vent his anger on.

  “Security? Flynn. I’ve changed my mind. If he throws a tantrum, shoot him!”

  Thirty-six

  Griffen had no idea what to expect from his first “official” discussion meeting at the conclave.

  He had some assumptions, and some minor information from Slim and others about what would go on. What he really didn’t understand was what his part was to be in the whole mess. He was so new to things supernatural that he didn’t feel qualified to give an opinion on the simplest of matters. He certainly didn’t think he was a good judge or arbitrator of other people’s problems. Griffen hoped that things would go smoothly enough during this first meeting that he could more or less keep his head down.

  The topic, as he understood it, was loosely categorized as information technologies. He was sure things would wander a bit around the topic, but the crux of the discussion was to be geared toward a single issue. Someone had proposed that a database be set up listing all known willing supernatural entities and their general locations and territories.

  It seemed simple enough, a source of information on who
was where and who was near enough to call on for help in times of crisis. Still, Griffen had a growing suspicion in his gut that things would be anything but easy.

  The room itself was like conference rooms everywhere. A long table, chairs, pitchers of water, and glasses. Though there were only a few chairs at the table itself. Behind each seat at the table were several chairs, and as people started filing in, Griffen saw what he expected would become a familiar pattern.

  The speakers, for lack of a better word, sat at the table. Their groups and advisors sat behind them. Already there was whispering going on as a speaker would lean back to consult the others. Though there were no rules against anyone speaking their mind, it seemed the majority would speak through their leaders.

  Griffen had purposefully not sat at the head of the table but closer to the middle of it. If he was going to do any good at all, he figured he would have to be in the thick of things. This was not about power games. At least, not yet.

  When it was all said and done, sitting at the table were Griffen, Estella, Slim, Jay, Lowell, Tink, and three people Griffen hadn’t met yet. One he knew from sight was the leader of the garou, who was sitting directly opposite Jay and the other shifters. He went by the name of Kane. The other two Slim had mentioned were representing more-scattered and less-represented groups.

  One, a stout woman with laughter lines around her eyes, was a wiccan named Gada. She was speaking largely for the collected human religious types other than the voodoo. The last was the one who had proposed the database. Griffen wasn’t sure what to make of him, but he claimed to be an alchemist.

  The meeting had started with the proposal. That in itself was excruciating. The alchemist, named Nick, tended to stutter and repeat himself. He listed point by point the benefits of such information, then played devil’s advocate and brought up every point against it he could think of. Then he brought up points to dismiss the negative ones and debated himself.

  “Dis so stupid.” Kane put in finally.

  Griffen had been told that the garou were “local” more or less. Now he believed it. Kane’s accent was somewhere between Cajun and the Bronx. He had to have some family that lived in the Irish Channel. His vocabulary was good, his sense of grammar atrocious.

  “He has the right to speak,” Slim said.

  “For ’ow long? Dis here discussion was only s’posed ta be for a hour or two. He’s liable ta take dat all up hi’self.”

  “I—I—I was o-o-only trying to present a f-f-fair and coco-complete argument,” Nick said.

  “Well, to be fair, perhaps it’s time we let the table discuss it. I think you have made your pitch,” Gada said.

  “Incessantly,” said Kane, leaning back in his chair and putting his feet up on the table.

  For some reason he glared at Griffen. There was a certain insolence about Kane. As if he would push for no reason other than to see who would push back. Griffen saw no reason at this point to give him the satisfaction.

  “Sure can’t see it bein’ a big deal. Never hurts to have too much info or too many contacts,” Slim said, starting off the discussion proper.

  Gada and Lowell both nodded, Jay and Estella seemed hesitant. Kane sat upright again and slapped his palm down on the table.

  “You gonna put our lives up on da Internet? Der still people who hunt supernaturals. All supernaturals. Not just dragons,” he said.

  The blatant dig aside, he seemed to have a point.

  “I agree,” Tink said. “I’ve run into persecution before, and even hunters. This is not a safe world.”

  “It’s exactly because it’s not a safe world that we need a way to stay in touch,” Lowell said.

  “I’m not sure I like how you would touch us,” Tink said with an easy smile.

  There were chuckles from the audience, and a stirring among the vampires. One firm rule during these meetings: no powers. That was the only part of Griffen’s job description he was sure on, and he kept a close eye, or whatever, on the vampires’ auras of power.

  “I am not sure I would trust even others on the list with the whole list,” Jay said. “After all, the only people you can truly count on in a crisis are those you know, and know you can trust. There are many predators among us.”

  “And as a predator I say dis stinks. You are settin’ yo’self up for some big troubles,” Kane said.

  Estella spoke up, and there was something about her voice that caught people’s attention. It wasn’t any power, other than that of her personality. She was used to speaking to, and commanding, a crowd. It was a preacher’s voice.

  “How many are lost, or never found? How many of us have lived alone, unprotected? My faith keeps me strong because I have others who can share it with me, but others aren’t so lucky,” she said.

  Slim nodded.

  “My folk are all loners,” he said, “but even we gets together now and again. The three here, we know pretty damn near all the others in the country. But if somethin’ happens to one of us, that goes right in the ol’ crapper.”

  “And there are so many types of wicca and the pantheists and so many others. We are not as tight-knit a group as the vodoun. Such a list would help our sisters and brothers connect across the continent,” Gada said.

  Kane smiled, and Griffen noticed his teeth were far sharper than they should have been. His jaw seemed a bit too long, too. Not really a muzzle, but certainly big enough to hold all those pointy dentures.

  “It figures de humans wan’ keep tabs on their betters. So they ’ave someone to holler at when tings get tough.”

  “Excuse me, who are you calling human?” Lowell said.

  “Oh, sorry. I no blame you. Vampire see chance at an easy meal, vampire gonna support it. Is your nature, no?” Kane suggested.

  Griffen was still mulling over the use of the word “human,” but from people’s reactions, Kane had struck a nerve. He decided to step in.

  “As I understand it, anyone’s being on the list would be voluntary. This really is a nonissue. If you want the help of the list, sign up. If not, don’t. Each to his own,” Griffen said.

  There was a long silence as people thought that over. Kane, eyes glinting, seemed unwilling to give up the fight so easily. Yet, he was the first to nod.

  “Yo’ right ’bout that. Dis is silly discussion. Let da humans ’ave their list.”

  “Actually, it’s not that silly a discussion. I for one want to know what type of security would be installed. After all, it needs to be as safe as possible, without blocking out the people who need it. This is supposed to be a discussion on information technology. Even if you don’t use the database, might as well make it as safe and good as possible,” Griffen said.

  “That I can agree on,” Jay said. “I, for one, don’t intend to give anyone my whereabouts, especially over the Internet. Yet I’ve a few ideas that might help make such a system work for others.”

  “Well, sho’,” Kane said, “I reckon I gots some ideas my own self.”

  And with that the conversation was off on a much more productive route. Griffen leaned back in his chair, proud of himself and how he had handled it. But still there was that bit about the “humans” that he just couldn’t quite let go.

  They had been into it for about forty minutes when there was a knock at the door. Someone close by, after checking with the group, opened it to find one of the hotel bellmen holding a large package.

  “Sorry to interrupt, but this delivery came in for your conference. Catering, I think. It was sent to this meeting room, and specifically to an . . .” He checked the label. “Al Shifters.”

  Griffen exchanged a look with Jay. He knew he hadn’t ordered any catering, but a delivery for Al Shifters? All shifters?

  “Does it say who it’s from?” Griffen asked.

  “No, sir, it came anonymously, which is why I thought I’d bring it in direct instead of phoning in. Just in case, you know?”

  “Yeah, it’s appreciated. Thanks,” Griffen said. “Just leave it o
n the table.”

  The bellman put it down, and received a tip from Griffen before departing. As the doors closed, Griffen reached for the package. Only to find Jay way ahead of him.

  “After all, for the meeting at least the shifters are my responsibility.”

  He opened the package.

  Inside was a cake.

  Specifically a cake from the Three Dogs Bakery. Specializing in gourmet treats for cats and dogs. It looked like chocolate, but Griffen suspected it was some substitute intended for dogs’ stomachs. Carob probably.

  Kane was growling, as were several other shifters. Though one leaned forward, and Griffen could see his nose twitching.

  “Mmm, that smells good.”

  Lowell laughed, as did several others around the table. The vampires in particular all seemed to be smirking.

  “Dis yo’ idea of a joke!?” Kane snarled. “You send dis cake, yes or no?”

  “No, no, of course not. Still it is rather funny,” Lowell said.

  “If no you, then who? I tink it one of yo’ vamps.”

  “That’s ridiculous! Why would we?”

  “ ’Cause you vamps always lookin’ ta make trouble.”

  “By teasing a bunch of animals. Please, why would we bother?”

  “Animals!”

  Griffen stood up.

  “Gentleman, please! Mr. Kane, there is nothing that says Lowell or anyone else sent this . . . cake. Besides, it was obviously just someone’s idea of a joke, nothing to get this upset over.”

  “How would you feel if I sent you a set of gator-skin bags?”

  Griffen stopped to think about that one.

  “Would you include a nice card?” he said innocently.

  Kane stared at him, then broke out laughing. He thumped the table hard enough the cake jumped.

  “Oh, dragon boy has sense of humor, yes indeed. I may likes you after all.”

  “Well, I’m glad that’s settled,” Lowell said.

  He reached for his water glass and took a sip, only to spray it over the table in an ugly spit take. Kane started laughing harder, only to be joined by the changelings. Nyx, who had messed with the contents of Griffen’s drink when they first met, said through her laughter, “What’s the matter? Can’t handle your holy water?”