“Leave it, McCandles. He said he’s not going to do anything to her. Leave it!”
Griffen blew one more gust of smoke. He raised a threatening finger toward Duvallier’s nose.
“All right, but one move on Penny, I will consider it to be your responsibility. I’ll take you to pieces.”
Duvallier laughed and tapped more ash on the rug.
“You can try, son. You can try.”
Griffen retreated. Harrison kept an arm on his shoulders until they had moved away from the spectators.
“Count to ten, or whatever you have to do,” Harrison said. “Duvallier’s a power in this town, has been for decades. He’s a pain in the butt, but he doesn’t lie. He doesn’t have to.”
“Well, if he’s not the threat to Penny, who is?”
“I haven’t heard anything. McCandles . . . ?”
Harrison hesitated, his face in a blank mask. He’d already shown enough emotion for the day.
“I’ll tell you if I see her again,” Griffen promised. Harrison nodded and moved off to continue his patrol.
“You’re hiding her! You can’t keep her from me! She has my grandchild!” a female voice shrilled. Malcolm’s voice replied, loudly but calm.
“I have not seen her, but if I had, I would not inform you.”
“You’re lying!”
“Please,” Malcolm said, his expression pained. “Why would I lie? Please leave. You are not welcome here.”
“No! I will not let you put me off. We’ll have it out right here and now!”
Griffen looked up. Malcolm was in the doorway, arguing with someone too short for Griffen to see over the crowd. But he didn’t need to see her to know it was Melinda. Griffen strode to his uncle’s side. Melinda wasn’t alone. Her two pet goons loomed at her back. Two other men stood nearby, a tall, good-looking man with blue eyes and wavy black Superman hair, and a smaller, slender man with blond hair. Griffen’s dragon sense went off on the tall man. The other was a puzzle. He had no time to figure it out. The reporters, looking for new material to perk up the rather tame feature pieces they were taping, saw an altercation brewing. They nudged their photographers and cameramen and started to move away from the players, toward the scene of the action. Griffen opened his stride to get there ahead of them.
“There he is, the uncle-to-be!” the small, stout female said, holding out her hands toward Griffen. She bore down on him and attached herself to his arm like a clamp. “Where is my grandchild’s mother?”
“Come with me,” Griffen said, holding on to her hand firmly with both of his. He tried to steer her out of the room. She didn’t move an inch. He felt as if she had taken root in the hotel floor.
“Oh, no,” Melinda said. She looked around her as if for the first time. “I’m not going where you can ignore me. What is all this? A party?”
Inwardly, Griffen wanted to grab a pool cue from the closest table and smack her with it, but he produced a friendly, easygoing smile. He lowered his voice.
“Melinda, this is a bad time. We’re running a fund-raiser here. Uncle Malcolm and I are supporting a candidate for governor.”
Melinda waved a hand.
“Yes, I know! That’s how we found you. We went to your apartment first. Imagine how impressed I was when I saw all those flyers for this event! And all for nothing! But it did tell me that you would be here now. It’s all working out for the best.”
At that moment, the candidate herself, detecting the depletion of her audience, had come to see what the fuss was all about. By the spark in her eyes, Griffen saw she knew Melinda. She put on all her charm and extended a hand.
“Hello there. I’m Penny Dunbar. I’m running for governor of Louisiana.”
Melinda ignored it. She eyed Penny up and down, dismissed her, and turned back to Malcolm.
“Oh, yes, your little puppet girl. The novelty candidate.”
“My record is as good or better than anyone else’s in this race,” Penny said.
“Good enough is hardly good enough,” Melinda said.
Horsie broke through the crowd and interposed herself between the two dragons.
“Well, it seems you must be from out of state, ma’am,” she said. She brandished a handful of flyers and tucked them into Melinda’s hand. “Representative Dunbar has a sterling record of backing law enforcement and education.”
“Putting lipstick on a pig doesn’t change the fact that it’s a pig,” Melinda said, ostentatiously dropping the pamphlets onto the floor.
The reporters grinned avidly over their recorders and notebooks.
“Is that what you say to yourself in the mirror every morning?” Penny asked, sweetly. She glanced over her shoulder at her security escort. “Winston, would you remove this person.”
Winston moved forward with the inevitability of an avalanche. Griffen pushed Melinda into his grasp.
“Yes, Representative. Ma’am, will you and your party please come with me?”
Melinda backed away, trying to break his grip.
“Physical intimidation! Is this how you treat potential donors? Help me!” She turned to the reporters. “They’re attacking an old woman because they don’t want the truth about their penny-ante candidate to come out!”
Horsie’s mouth dropped open. She appealed to Griffen.
“Can’t you get this woman out of here?” she begged. “This is ruining her!”
A puff of cigar smoke enveloped them all. Griffen coughed. Without looking, he knew that Duvallier was there at his elbow. The big man with the light brown hair stood beside him, looking uncomfortable.
“She’s already ruined,” Duvallier said, gleefully. “We’re just witnessin’ the burial of the corpse.”
“Please stay out of this,” Griffen said.
“Naw, gonna enjoy the show! Did I introduce you to my friend, Mr. Sandusky? Albert, say hi to Griffen.”
“Uh, hi,” said Albert.
Melinda put a dramatic hand to her forehead.
“Police brutality! I’m going to faint! I can’t take this torture!”
Horsie grabbed Griffen’s arm to get his attention. “Stop her!”
“How?” Griffen asked.
“Ma’am, no one is hurting you,” Winston said calmly. He held on firmly. Melinda writhed, managing to look feeble and frightened in the cameras’ harsh light. Malcolm was furious. He tried to push the press back, away from Melinda.
“Nothing to see here, folks,” he said. “The tournament is still in progress.”
“Griffen!”
Griffen spun toward the sound of his name. He looked over the heads of the crowd of reporters.
Through the doorway of the ballroom staggered Gris-gris and Mai. Between them was Val. His sister looked exhausted. Her face was red, and wisps of her long blond hair had escaped from the long plait over her shoulder. She wore a rumpled light blue sweat suit that had stains on the jacket. He was amazed at how large her belly had become since he had last seen her. Griffen pushed in between the onlookers, most of whom turned to see what was going on.
The tall, black-haired man was right behind him, his face taut with concern. He hurried toward Val with his arms out.
“Val! Are you all right?”
Gris-gris let go of Val’s arm and breasted up to the man. He reached into his jacket and came out with a shining curved knife. The man backed away a pace.
“Who the hell are you?” Gris-gris demanded. The man offered him a pleasant smile.
“I’m Mike. You must be Gris-gris. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
The dealer was in no mood for appeasement.
“Well, I don’t know nothin’ about you! Get away from my lady!”
“Hey!” Mai shouted. “She’s heavy!”
Griffen swooped in and got a shoulder under his sister’s arm just as she st
arted to slump. He helped her to a chair. She clutched her side as if it hurt her. Mai sat down beside her and held her hand. Val was breathing heavily. Griffen didn’t like the pinched look of her face.
“Are you all right?” Griffen asked.
Val grinned wearily up at him. “Just can’t run like I used to. I’m all off-balance. Had to park blocks from here and run. They’ll probably tow our car.”
Griffen laughed with relief.
“You’re safe now. I’ll take care of it when this is over.”
Mai wrinkled her nose up at him.
“Do I not even rate a hello?”
So many questions urged themselves forward in his mind that Griffen hardly knew where to start.
“Valerie!” came a triumphant shout behind them.
As if magically recharged, Melinda flipped Winston backward like a cardboard cutout and shoved reporters aside. The blond man trotted behind her, exuding a proprietary air.
“There you are, darling! Now, you didn’t have to leave in such a hurry. Why didn’t you tell me you wanted to visit New Orleans?”
In spite of her exhaustion, Val regained her feet. She held her arm tightly against her side. Griffen headed off Melinda and glared down at her.
“How dare you kidnap my sister!”
Melinda was unapologetic. “She came with me of her own accord.”
“I didn’t intend to stay forever,” Val insisted.
“You should have given me notice.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re working for me, sweetheart,” Melinda said.
Val’s face turned even redder.
“That job was fake. Everything was a sham!”
“Not my affection for you, Valerie. It’s clear you need medical attention.” Melinda sniffed. “And a shower. We need to get you back. Henry, help me take her out to the car.”
The blond man reached for Val’s hand.
“Come with me, dear,” he said. “We’ll get you a penthouse suite while we’re waiting for the plane home.”
“Oh, no!” Val said. She sidled a little unsteadily to the left. “Don’t let him touch me!”
“Don’t be silly,” Henry said, with an imperturbable expression. “We only have your best interests at heart.”
He reached for her again. Val dodged him. Henry followed her as if he could read her mind. Griffen moved to intercept Henry. He didn’t know why Val was so frightened of him, but it didn’t matter. If she feared him, he was Griffen’s enemy.
Griffen had a good head in height on the other man, but Henry moved with surprising speed. Gris-gris and Mike broke off their argument to block Henry from following Val.
“He ain’t gonna touch her as long as I’m alive,” Gris-gris said. He tossed the knife from one hand to the other. It flashed in the air. Henry held out his hands, touching both men on the arms.
“Now, there’s no need for violence,” he said. Mike’s expression softened, but Gris-gris looked more fierce than before. He glared at Henry.
“You can’t charm me, demon. I wearin’ my witch-bag.”
Henry tried to move past him. Gris-gris held the knife up to his face.
Val squeezed backward between a pair of chairs into the second row and made for the open door. She clutched her side as if it hurt. Mai put an arm around her to help her run. Henry dodged his pursuers and ambled swiftly after her.
“Come back, dear. Everyone is looking at you!”
“Leave me alone!”
Mike raced past Griffen and leaped into the air. He tackled Henry and brought him down to the carpet. Camera flashes went off all around them. Mike hauled Henry to his feet, hauled back his fist, and punched him in the jaw. Henry’s head snapped back. He went limp and sank to the floor at their feet.
“Now, why did you do that?” Melinda asked. She signed to her minions to pick up the blond man and lay him on a row of chairs.
“Because Val said he’s a threat,” Griffen said. “It’s over, Val. You can come back.”
Val and Mai halted just past the registration tables. Jerome escorted them over. Griffen gave Val a hug.
“We are going to have a long talk later.”
Val raised her chin defiantly. “Yes, we are.”
Gris-gris tapped her on the arm.
“Hey, lady,” he said.
“Hey, Gris-gris,” Val replied, smiling though tears were standing in her eyes. Gris-gris took her face between his hands and kissed her solidly on the lips. Val wrapped her arms around him and hugged him so tightly he squeaked. Mike watched them, somewhat dismayed.
Mai stood by, seeming small and forlorn. Griffen gathered her in his arms. It felt good to hold her after so long. The questions he needed to ask her didn’t seem as important at that moment.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “I owe you.”
“You most certainly do,” she said.
Fifty-two
Malcolm stalked over to confront Melinda, his usually passive face furious.
“I hold you responsible for this catastrophe,” he said. “You had no right to interrupt this event.”
“Me?” Melinda said with an air of injured innocence. “They’re the ones who assaulted my secretary. Look at him!” She swept a hand toward the unconscious Henry.
“Don’t you worry,” Penny said, descending on them with the press and the police at her back. “I will be pressing charges. Detective Harrison!”
“Yes, ma’am?” Harrison said. Penny pointed an imperious finger.
“Take these . . . people into custody. For disturbing the peace and endangering the public!”
“Yes, ma’am.” Harrison nodded to his brothers-in-uniform, who came forward with handcuffs and plastic restraints.
As they arrested Melinda and her bodyguards, from the rear of the ballroom came four men in white coats and flat painter’s caps. Griffen only had a moment to register their curious presence before a pale, naked man dashed into the chamber.
“Hey,” Jerome said. “Who’s the streaker weirdo?”
The man paused for a moment on the threshold, panting and drooling like the Tasmanian Devil, then tore straight toward Val. It took a running dive and latched onto her ankles. She screamed and punched at it.
Griffen gawked, but he was surprised into inaction only for a moment. Gris-gris reacted first. He leaped on the male’s back and dragged its head up. It had no hair and heavy-lidded eyes like a lizard.
The bald white monster! It looked just as Holly had described it.
Gris-gris held his knife to its throat.
“You let her go this second!” he hissed.
Like a snake, it writhed and flipped over onto its back. Gris-gris flew off into the chairs, scattering them like toys. The spectators had retreated, screaming. The creature made another leap at Val. Malcolm and Mike grabbed its legs. They dragged it several feet. It twisted and fought loose. It raked a handful of claws down Mike’s chest, tearing half his shirt off.
“Don’t hurt him!” Val screamed.
Mike pulled back. His skin, dragon-tough, was unmarked. Val let out a sob of relief. Gris-gris crouched in a fighter’s stance, knife in hand, moving for an opening. Griffen and Jerome joined in the fray, trying to restrain the crazed demon. It seemed determined to get at Val no matter what was in its way.
A fifth man in a white coat appeared at the doorway. He pointed at the naked male.
“There he is, men! Grab him! We need to get him back to the asylum!”
George! At last!
The five demon hunters converged on the group to help subdue the creature. It bit and clawed like a wolverine. Even ten of them weren’t enough to hold it down.
Griffen glared at Melinda, as the bucking, kicking demon bit his ear.
“This is your creature!” he said. “Call it off!”
“I can control it,” Penny said. Confidently, she pushed her way into the midst of the group. “Hey, fellah,” she called. Her musical voice caught the creature’s attention. Slowly, Penny started to move, the dance seeming to come into her from her feet upward. She writhed and twisted, closing her eyes to listen to music only she could hear. The room fell oddly silent.
The cameras focused on her. Penny moved her hips and shoulders. Her hands fluttered upward and down again, describing without words a paradise of sensation that Griffen yearned to know. He could tell that every male in the place experienced the same feeling. Instead of a blue T-shirt and khakis, he pictured her in translucent veils, sparkling with jewels.
That included the demon. It stopped struggling. Its beady eyes fixed on the strawberry blond woman, following her every move like a hungry dog seeing its dinner approaching. Penny sidled closer, her eyelids lowering suggestively. The demon watched her with fascination, its muscles sagging, falling limp. Penny danced a step nearer and whirled, her hair streaming behind her.
The demon’s nostrils twitched. It threw up its head suddenly. Before the posse of dragons and demon hunters could tighten their grip on it, it kicked loose. It had caught Penny’s scent.
Dragon!
It leaped for her, hands clawing for her neck. She fell to her knees. It throttled her, screaming wildly to the ceiling. Griffen scrambled after it, catching one cold, naked foot in his arms. The demon hunters swarmed it, trying to separate predator from prey. There seemed to be no way to control it. It raked its clawed feet down legs and bellies, drawing blood from the shape-changers.
Suddenly, Duvallier was in their midst. He shoved past George and his men and put a finger to the demon’s forehead.
He whipped off his dark glasses. The red eyes almost crackled as the flames behind them brightened. The demon cringed.
“You got no right to be here,” Duvallier said. He put his hands on the creature’s shoulders and pressed downward. It slumped to its knees. Griffen watched, astonished. It whimpered. It had taken a dozen men to subdue it, and Duvallier had taken it down with a touch.
Robert Asprin's Dragons Run Page 39
