Dragons Luck

by Robert Asprin

  “Sure. What?”

  “That their child will be fey.”

  With that, she and her table were gone. No one seemed to notice but him, but then no one had noticed them arrive. Griffen stood there and, with a frustrated sigh, rolled his eyes.

  “Oh, sure, how am I supposed to work that into a conversation?!”

  He was almost sure he could hear Rose’s laughter on the wind.

  Forty-nine

  All good ideas get screwed up in committee.

  There were multiple reasons the conclave utilized speakers for each of the groups, and those representatives were not chosen at random. Simply put, some of the members of the conclave weren’t the sharpest. Not to mention well behaved.

  Rumor already ran rampant among the lesser members attending. They debated back and forth constantly. Was Griffen guilty? Innocent? What would the speakers do either way? What should be done about the police? Most of those attending were concerned, and afraid. A few, though, found this to be the most exciting conclave ever, and were constantly playing devil’s advocate to keep the conversation flowing.

  Within hours of the impromptu decision to investigate the murder independent of the police, everyone knew. No one quite knew how the rumor leaked so fast, though a few of the vampires were likely candidates. They had been stirring up the discussion and sitting back with happy smiles as the emotions flared.

  However, Tail, whether he knew it or not, was part of what made it worse. He had, in effect, spoken for the shifters on how they could, or would, help such an investigation. It was a small thing, but he had gone over Jay’s head. Jay, the chosen representative. Any other time, it would have been no problem. But when things are unstable, a bubble of vacuum in the power structure, no matter how small, can be a catalyst.

  Griffen didn’t know any of this. All he knew was he had been called in, again. And once again, he had to leave his home and rush over to deal with conclave matters. At four in the morning, because some young shifter had decked one of the garou.

  Griffen nodded to the desk clerk, who looked dead on his feet and barely managed to wave. Then he braced himself and walked down to one of the conference rooms. Whether it was the hour, or some weeding had been done before he got there, he was happy to see that there were only about a dozen people in the room. Jay, Tink, Tail, and Kane were seated. He almost missed Tammy, who sort of huddled in one corner away from everyone. Standing at opposite ends of the room were a group of shifters and all of Kane’s garou. One of the garou, Kevin from the demonstration, had tissue stuffed up a nose that looked as if it had recently been broken. Griffen couldn’t tell at a glance who his opponent had been.

  Small group or not, they all started talking at once as he came in. Except Tammy, who merely glared sullenly at him. It was loud enough, and he had enough lack of sleep that he almost shouted back, but figured it would only make his head throb more. Griffen waved them all silent.

  Basking in the silence for a moment, he tried to decide who to ask for information. It wasn’t easy, tempers being what they were. Griffen was too tired to want to deal with any more unintended insults. He turned to the wounded garou, Kevin.

  “What happened?” Griffen said.

  “Got hit,” Kevin said.

  Griffen fought the impulse to throttle the life out of him.

  “A little more detail please,” Griffen said.

  “Well, we was talking about the investigation. And he said we couldn’t do it. Said we needed some fairy to bail us out.”

  Griffen blinked and tried to rub some of the sleep from his eyes.

  “What investigation?”

  Kevin looked at him as if he were crazy.

  “Us findin’ out who killed Slim, of course,” he said.

  “I done tol’ you, ain’t gonna be done dat way,” Kane said.

  “You mean it’s true!? You trust the fairies instead of your pack?” Kevin said, shocked.

  “No, it ain’t like dat, boy . . .” Kane said.

  One of the shifters, whom Griffen didn’t know, spoke up.

  “How come Tail is talking for us now? Why is he stepping on Jay’s toes and keeping us out of things?”

  “I only said that we aren’t trackers like that,” Tail said.

  “Which we?!” another shifter demanded.

  “Packless riffraff,” one of the garou muttered.

  Several people started to talk at once, along the lines of traditional prefight rituals such as “What did you say?” A few of the garou and shifters took a step forward. Nails were starting to grow into claws.

  “Hold it!” Griffen shouted.

  He brought his fist down on the table, then had to recover as it went through the oak and he nearly lost his balance. He stood, trying to regain his control, watching his own claws fade away.

  When he spoke again, it was dangerously soft.

  “Tink, what are they talking about?”

  Tink looked uncomfortable, and his eyes kept flicking to the damaged table.

  “Well, it was maybe suggested that we do some investigating without the police knowing. See if we can’t find out what really happened. There was some question as to whether any shifter could do any good, and I suggested maybe Tammy could try to help.”

  Griffen glanced at Tammy, but she seemed to have no comment to make. She crossed her arms over her small breasts and looked away from him.

  “And no one thought about checking with me before sending packs of vigilantes through my town?” Griffen demanded.

  “It wasn’t like that. We weren’t going to hunt that way. The rumors just sort of blew things up,” Tail said.

  “We won’t be cut out,” the young shifter said.

  “No one is cutting anyone out, this isn’t a game,” Tail said.

  “You don’t speak for us, old man.”

  Tail bared his teeth in an expression that no one would confuse with a smile. Griffen hadn’t seen anything like them before; they were all pointed and jagged, almost like a shark’s.

  Jay put a restraining hand on his shoulder.

  “I do speak for you, at least at this conclave,” Jay said.

  The other shifter backed down, but the garou stepped up. “We don’t need a fairy to hunt for us.”

  Some people, Griffen thought, have little survival instinct. Still, he was curious. After his talks with Harrison, he needed some help. He thought he would toss the idea around a bit.

  “Really? You can find and track a scent, in a well-traveled public place, without knowing anything but it will cross Slim’s and maybe have a little blood spoor on it?” Griffen asked.

  “Well . . . we could try,” said the garou.

  “Werewolves. We can do it,” said one of the shifters.

  “Oh? What’s your specialty?” Griffen said.

  “Uh . . . I mean ‘we’ as a group.”

  “You think like a group now? Things must have changed drastically this afternoon. Evolution at work, I suppose. Still, I’m curious. Always trying to learn, that’s me. What type of shifting do you do?” Griffen said.

  “I can change my density,” the shifter said, and hung his head, his cheeks flushing red.

  “That counts as shape-shifting, does it?”

  Griffen realized he was feeling more than a little nasty and indulging the feeling too much. He moved on.

  “Still, that doesn’t seem to be a lot of help in a murder investigation,” Griffen observed.

  There were a few moments of awkward silence. Another shifter, Gustov, the one who had demonstrated with Kevin, spoke softly.

  “Mr. McCandles, sir. If they want to help, can you . . . no, will you really stop them?”

  Griffen stopped his knee-jerk reaction. Not only was he already getting a bad reputation, but that had been the most polite voice so far in the meeting. Griffen wanted to say it sounded like it would cause more trouble than it could possibly solve, but that would anger pretty much everyone. He was really beginning to hate politics.

 
He looked at the major players and saw reactions similar to his own thinking. None of them knew of a way out of this other than an iron fist. And the sad thing was, whatever the motivations behind it, these were people talking about helping Griffen. In their own backasswards way, they were trying to do good.

  “If, and I mean if, I say go ahead with this nonsense, there will be some very clear rules. No public shifting or visible powers. No hassling locals or tourists. No more infighting. And if, God forbid, any of you encounter the police, you will be polite, helpful, fully responsive, and not have this come crashing down on everyone’s head.”

  He looked at the shifters, who were nodding and trying to look harmless. The garou were doing likewise and failing miserably. Griffen sighed and went on.

  “Since I know you won’t work together well, two groups. Garou and other shifters. No more than four in each group, so you pick your best. Everyone else will carry on as if the conclave were normal, get ready for the party, not butt in. Do you all agree to these rules?”

  There was a scattered chorus of affirmative answers. Griffen spoke directly to the leaders next.

  “Please tell me, do any of you have a better idea?”

  No affirmative answers this time. Tink spoke up, again tentatively.

  “I still think Tammy should help one of the groups; if they can find any trail at all, she can help focus on it,” Tink said.

  “I already said I don’t want anything to do with this . . . disgusting murder business,” Tammy said, blanching noticeably.

  Griffen sighed, and at the risk of her fixating on him again tried to move things along.

  “Tammy, please? Let’s make this as painless for everyone as possible,” Griffen said.

  She hesitated long enough, eyes blinking rapidly and looking around the room in a near panic. Every instinct Griffen had said that she would say no.

  “Oh, fine! I’ll go with the garou.”

  Apparently his instincts hadn’t quite figured out changelings yet.

  Almost at once the loudmouth garou spoke up.

  “We don’t ne—”

  “Only a damned fool turns down a fair deal, ya hear? I got any fools in my pack?” Kane stepped in.

  “No,” Kevin said.

  “Den you be nice to da little lady here. You listen what she say. Less you ready to challenge me for my spot?”

  The garou shook his head and looked away. Kane looked at Griffen and nodded.

  “All right, if everyone could leave except the speakers and Tail. Go decide who gets into the groups. And I will say this once, I think I have been fair as moderator. Anyone who breaks these rules, answers to me,” Griffen said.

  The others nodded and filtered out. Tammy was the last to go, and threw one last disgusted look at Griffen before slamming the door. He shook his head and sat tiredly in one of the seats.

  “Did anyone else see how to put a lid on that once they got the dumb idea?” Griffen asked.

  The others all shook their heads.

  “I’m honestly amazed you managed that much. It was far better than I could have managed,” Jay said.

  “I real sorry it came to dis, but you did good as anyone in your shoes,” Kane said.

  “This mess wasn’t my fault, and it’s pushing it to say it was under my duty as moderator. Tink excepted, if it hadn’t been for the garou and shifters classifying themselves as separate, I could have left this to you bunch to handle,” Griffen said.

  “True, and we will watch over the bunch to make sure they abide by your rules and cause no more trouble than the Quarter is used to from nosy tourists,” Jay assured him.

  The others nodded agreement.

  “Well, I think this particular bunch of shifters are more talk then anything else, no offense, Tail and Jay. And just maybe the garou and Tammy working together will actually do some good,” Griffen said.

  “I think dey just might, Grif,” Kane said.

  “Yes, and I don’t think you have anything to worry about from Tammy. She seems to have cooled off,” Tink said.

  Griffen sighed, and after a few more minutes found himself on the way back to his apartment. He didn’t feel much better for solving the crisis. In fact, he was pretty much where he had been a few hours ago. The slim hope that they might find something, weighed against the possible trouble they represented, just wasn’t worth it.

  And, just to prove that Fate really did have it in for him tonight, when he made it home he was far too wound up to sleep.

  Fifty

  It was the night of the masquerade ball, and Griffen simply wasn’t in a party mood.

  He sat alone in his apartment, fully aware that he was supposed to have been at the ball ten minutes before, helping with the final setup. Griffen had insisted that he should help, even though Estella had assured him everything was covered. That was all before Slim’s death.

  Griffen had given his word, as unnecessary as it might have been, and now had broken it. Such a small thing. As if anyone really cared whether or not he helped hang a few streamers or carried a punch bowl. Yet he couldn’t help thinking about it. If only because it kept him from thinking of heavier issues.

  No one had heard anything about the garou since they had taken off that afternoon. It seemed impossible that a pack of wolves on two legs could stomp around such a small area as the Quarter without anyone noticing, but that was exactly what they were doing. Either Griffen had underestimated them, or Tammy was helping with more than just tracking. The changelings were supposed to be good at hiding.

  The other shifters had all been seen. They had been poking around the Riverwalk and the Irish pub, and had been wandering around the Canal Place shopping center last he had heard. They seemed harmless, and Griffen doubted they would be any help at all.

  Harrison also had apparently dropped off the radar, but then that was normal for the detective. Griffen knew the deadline Harrison had given him was almost up, but didn’t know what to do. Their next talk would most likely be happening in a police-station interrogation room.

  All in all, Griffen felt helpless. What did he know of murder investigations? Less than he knew about running a conclave, and look at the mess he’d made of that. He couldn’t even bring himself to attend the last event.

  So he sat. Wearing a well-cut suit that he had last worn to a funeral. He didn’t even have a mask. Ridiculous; every other shop in New Orleans had masks. From Chinese knock-offs to local-made pieces so elaborate they were a form of art. Griffen hadn’t even bothered looking for one.

  There was a knock at his door.

  Griffen turned, about to tell whoever it was to leave. His words died as the door opened. As did his thoughts. His brain shut down for a few minutes. Proving that, dragon or not, he was still male.

  Mai stood in the doorway, dressed like Griffen had never seen before. The basic style was an oriental dress. An embroidered collar at her throat gave way to an oval cut from the fabric, showing off some of her . . . assets. Slits up to the hip revealed legs Griffen knew weren’t as long as they now seemed. What made the effect more startling was that the dress, skintight and hugging every curve it didn’t expose, seemed to be made of black, iridescent snakeskin. Scales glistened in sharp contrast with her skin, highlights rippling and shifting with every breath.

  A slim matching mask somehow emphasized her eyes, making them seem to smolder. Her hair was piled into an elaborate shape with long, sharp chopsticks protruding, and her nails were nearly three inches long.

  Dragon Lady.

  Those two words were the first coherent thoughts Griffen had after her entrance. From the way her eyes darkened and her lips twitched, Griffen knew she had caught his reaction and enjoyed it. He mentally shook himself and got to his feet.

  “You were supposed to pick me up,” Mai said.

  Her voice matched her outfit. Dark, entrancing, dangerous. Griffen had to drop into his poker face. He had never seen her slip into a role like this, and the combined effect was . . . powerful.


  “I was?” he asked, honestly puzzled.

  “Yes, but you didn’t know it,” Mai said. “You didn’t give any thought at all to bringing a date to the dance, did you?”

  Griffen would have smacked himself if he hadn’t already stepped up his self-control. Of all the stupid things, and it didn’t even occur to him. Of course he had been busy. He didn’t have a clue what sort of messages he would have sent showing up to the masquerade ball alone.

  He shrugged it off with a laugh. It sounded only a little forced.

  “I didn’t even remember to get a mask,” he said.

  “I thought not, lover.”

  Mai bit her bottom lip, eyes lighting up with what Griffen could only interpret as mischief. Her hand moved slowly, drawing Griffen’s eye with it, as she reached through the hole in her dress. Those long, sharp nails actually left the faintest of lines across her skin as they dove beneath the neckline. He was unsurprised, but greatly disappointed, when her fingers came back out. They held a masculine version of her own mask in dark, glittering snakeskin.

  Someday, Griffen thought, I’m going to have to worry about just how well she can push my buttons.

  “I, uh . . . I don’t remember inviting you,” Griffen said.

  “You would have if you thought of it. I assure you.”

  “Look, Mai, I’m not even sure I’m . . .”

  “Going. I know, lover.”

  Mai smiled, then laughed. It was a full, throaty laugh. Suddenly, without any perceptible change in posture or attitude, she became her old self. Or at least, the one Griffen knew. Her tone and attitude were back to normal, excited, energetic, playful.

  “Oh, that was fun. You are such an easy mark sometimes, Griffen. And the party is going to be fun, too. You have no idea how much I’m looking forward to this!”

  Griffen felt his cheeks flush. Easy mark, was he? He was getting ready to tell her to leave when she stepped forward. Dragon Lady attitude or not, she wore that dress well, and he found himself trying to track the play of light along the scales.

  “Fun? I can’t see how it can be anything but a complete bomb.”