Dragons Wild

by Robert Asprin

  “I don’t know if dragons have tempers any worse than anyone else,” Jerome said, shaking his head. “The problem is, with their powers, they can’t afford to give in to it. You’d better start learnin’ to get a handle on yours, Grifter. If you start drawing too much attention to yourself, then you’re gonna have the whole pack of ’em down on your case. The one thing nobody wants is to have the humans get wise to the fact there are dragons walkin’ around among ’em.”

  “Which brings us to another interesting point,” Griffen said, leaning back in his chair. “Or rather, it brings us back to the original point. You keep talking about Mose and your crew. Just what is it that you want, Jerome? You said he sent you to look for me. Is this another of those ‘recruit him or kill him’ deals?”

  “Actually, it’s the other way around.” Jerome grinned. “It’ll be better when you hear about it from Mose in person, but the skinny is that we want to sign on with you.”

  That caught Griffen totally by surprise.

  “Come again?” he said.

  Jerome laughed.

  “Remember when I told you that the big guys who were fat and sassy with the status quo would assume any change was bad? Well, my crew have been bottom dwellers so long, we figure any change will have to be an improvement for us. Especially if we line up early on the side of the one doin’ the changin’.”

  “But I don’t know anything at this point,” Griffen protested. “And there’s sure no guarantee that these so-called powers of mine are going to develop at all.”

  “Mose knows all that,” Jerome said. “We’ve talked it over and we’re willing to take the chance. Look, right now there are a lot of things you need: a place to hole up, time to decide what you’re gonna do, and information to base your decision on. Eventually, you’re also gonna need some financing and manpower to back up whatever it is you decide. We can provide all that. All we ask is that when all is said and done, you remember who it was that stepped forward first to side with you.”

  “Yeah, but what if I come up empty?” Griffen said. “Then you’ll have taken sides against the big dragons and lost.”

  “We’re already pretty much bottom of the heap.” Jerome shrugged. “It’s kinda like an oh-and-twelve football team gambling on a new coach. We got nowhere to go but up. So, what do you say, Coach? Is it at least worth a listen?”

  Griffen hesitated. Even if listening wasn’t an actual commitment, it was still a big step. Besides, he was feeling more than a little hurt that Jerome had initiated a friendship under false pretenses. It rubbed the wound of what Mai had done. A very fresh and raw wound.

  On the other hand, what were his choices? Was he ready to face more shadowy figures in dark parking lots alone? He had just been considering the fact that he and Valerie had nowhere specific to go and no plan to follow. At least Jerome was offering a base of operation and even some financing. It sounded better than the alternatives…especially since he didn’t have any.

  “Assuming I say yes…” Griffen said carefully. “What’s our first step?”

  “First, I take you home to meet with Mose…and we’ll take my wheels. No, don’t worry about the Goblin,” his friend said, forestalling Griffen’s objection. “I’ll have someone pick it up and put it in storage. Even do a little body work on it to remove the evidence of your little skirmish. She’ll be good as new when you want her again.”

  “Actually,” Griffen said, “I was going to say that we had to swing by and pick up Valerie on our way out of town. She’s in this, too. Not negotiable.”

  “You told her about bein’ a dragon?” Jerome winced, then shook his head. “Well, I guess what’s done is done. You may regret it in the long run, though.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I keep forgetting how new you are to all this,” Jerome said. “Don’t tell her this, but it’s always been kinda unofficial policy to try to keep the females in the dark for as long as possible about the dragon thing.”

  “How come?”

  “Because female dragons have a bad rep. A real bad rep. Now, I won’t go so far as to say that all females, dragon or human, are uncontrollable, but female dragons tend to be wild. Dragon powers and short tempers don’t make a good mix. Remember how I said that dragons tend to avoid direct confrontation and high profiles? Well, it’s because when they do square off, folks tend to notice…like the Chicago fire and the San Francisco earthquake. Female dragons were at the bottom of both of those little news items.”

  Griffen tried to imagine his brawling baby sister with dragon powers, and rejected the image with a shudder.

  “That’s as may be; just now I’ve got a lot more reason to trust her more than you, old buddy.”

  “Grifter, I’m hurt,” Jerome said, but his eyes twinkled. “You’re askin’ yourself if you can trust me. You’ve played me at poker, you know my tells. So ask what’s on your mind.”

  “How much of it was real?”

  “Is, not was. Griffen, my man, ignoring that it’s in my best interest to watch out for you. I like you, did from our first bar crawl.”

  Griffen didn’t know what to say, but he remembered that night. They had been lucky not to end up in jail on an overnighter. It had been a hell of a night.

  “And now here’s something to twist your mind around,” Jerome continued. “I know how things work, so I could ask, was I liking you, or was I under the influence of a dragon more powerful than I ever would be?”

  “Huh. And did you ask yourself?”

  “Nope, ’cause it didn’t matter. Sometimes questioning doesn’t help. Sometimes, Grifter, you just have to go with what works.”

  Griffen thought for a long minute. Sometimes you have to go with what works. Made sense, and Jerome was right on one thing. He knew Jerome’s tells, and he meant every word. Instinct or dragon power, it didn’t matter. This was someone he still trusted.

  “Okay, I’m in, at least till I’ve heard the pitch from this Mose.”

  “Great! We’ll get your sister and get started. The less time we are here, the less chance of someone else finding you.”

  Griffen nodded and finished off the remains of his glass.

  “By the way,” Jerome said, “have you told your sister about that tarot card?”

  “Only in passing,” Griffen said. “I really didn’t know what to make of it and neither did she.”

  “Best not mention it to her again until after you’ve talked to Mose,” Jerome said. “And when you show it to him, do it sometime when she’s not there. Like I say, female dragons have a rep for overreacting.”

  “You say we’re going to meet Mose,” Griffen said, trying to change the subject. “Exactly where is home for you, Jerome? You may have said, but I don’t remember.”

  “Exactly where you need to hide for a while, Grifter.” Jerome beamed. “It’s got everything you need: nightlife, casinos, loose women, and it’s the absolute best place in the country to disappear and has been for over two hundred years. We’re talking about New Orleans in general and the French Quarter specifically.”

  Nine

  Griffen excused himself from Jerome, hastily making his way to the bar’s small bathroom. The fixtures were the cheapest available, metal instead of porcelain; with a shabby privacy wall between the urinals and the only stall. Shakily, he turned the water on and let it pour, splashing only a bit on his face. He looked up at the mirror, and saw a near stranger looking back.

  Despite his stamina on the road and his outward calm, the face in the mirror betrayed just what toll the last day had taken on him. Dark circles had formed under his eyes. Eyes that looked strained and just a bit too wide, like an animal who had only begun to realize the trap it was in. His hair was disheveled, his clothes rumpled, his posture more slumped and tired looking than he ever had imagined.

  Dragons. The word kept coming back to him over and over again. His sister was right, it didn’t matter what he believed. If others, powerful others, thought dragons were real and he was one, the
y would respond accordingly. That still left the question, what did he believe?

  Staring into the mirror, he didn’t see a dragon. He saw a college student, ex-college student, harried and stressed like any other person might be when faced with the prospects of no job or home. That alone gave him some minor reassurance in an odd way. He still looked normal, not like someone who had their whole world turned upside down. The thought gave him some amount of calm, and brought a tight smile to his lips.

  What did he believe?

  He found himself evaluating the opinions of those he had encountered. Malcolm had always been a distant figure; he didn’t know how to read the man. Likewise the senator, who he had only seen through the TV. Mai was really the first real chink in his armor. Someone close to him, someone who had shared his bed. Yet when dragons had come up, she had betrayed her normal characteristics and deserted him.

  Now Jerome, another friend. In some ways, a closer friend then Mai. One who seemed to wholeheartedly believe this dragon nonsense. And, perhaps more important to the insecure jobless man, wasn’t shunning him or running away, but offering out open hands. His invitation seemed from one angle too good to be true, and from the other angle made perfect sense.

  If one believed in dragons.

  Griffen had already made his decision to tentatively accept Jerome’s invitation. That didn’t mean he fully accepted the premise behind it. It was so foreign to anything in his limited experience. He felt adrift, lost, floundering. He searched his own thoughts and feelings for some solution. Any solution. Only one came to mind.

  “Okay Griffen,” he said to his own reflection. “They claim you’re a dragon, a monster, a beast of power. So…be a dragon.”

  He concentrated, willing himself to show some sign, any sign, of dragondom. Inside he kept repeating the phrase “be a dragon, be a dragon,” trying to avoid distracting himself by the obvious corollary of “be the ball.” He focused his thoughts instead on scales, wings, fiery breath. Trying to force some physical sign that could prove, or disprove, this madness.

  So firm was his concentration that his vision blurred, tears forming in the corners of his eyes and further blurring his sight. The image in front of him stared back, features set in concentration, outline going blurry from the tears. He pushed, desperately reaching for something, anything, that he could get a grip on.

  A sudden wave of nausea broke over him and his concentration broke. He slumped against the sink, sweat pouring off his forehead from the exertion. There hadn’t been so much as a split second where his face in the mirror had seemed to him anything but human. Yet, the effort had left him feeling weak and drained, more so than anything he could remember.

  The bathroom door swung open and Jerome looked in. He looked over Griffen, frowning slightly. Something about his eyes made Griffen suspect that he had already known what he would find before opening the door.

  “Some things you can’t force, my man,” said Jerome, confirming Griffen’s suspicions.

  “How did you know?” Griffen asked.

  “You mean ’sides the fact you’ve been in here a good twenty minutes? I know you, Grifter, and I know what I’d be thinkin, and tryin, if I were in your shoes.”

  Griffen shook his head to clear it. He hadn’t any idea that he had been in there so long. To him it had been five minutes, tops. He thought that he must have been lost in thought.

  “I still find this dragons thing…”

  “Illogical? Impossible? A load of crap?” Jerome said.

  “D. All of the above,” Griffen answered.

  “Still coming with me to New Orleans? If only to find out why so many would be lying about something so nuts?”

  “That is just it, Jerome. I can be slow sometimes, but I can read people pretty well. If you are lying, you are better at it than you have ever shown before. I…I just don’t understand.”

  “You will, Griffen. So help me, you will.”

  Griffen nodded and straightened himself up. Carefully, he forced his expression to better hide the tiredness and strain he felt. Jerome smiled and clapped his friend on the shoulder as Griffen walked out of the bathroom and into the bar proper.

  Jerome considered the scene for a moment before following and shook his head. His smile was both wry and a touch tired.

  “Can’t see the forest for the trees,” he said to himself and then followed Griffen into the bar.

  It would be many hours before anyone sober enough came into that restroom, and noticed the long, finger-shaped dents in the rim of the metal sink.

  Ten

  Jerome drove a Jeep Cherokee, and the tires sang a high, whiny monotone as they headed west along I-10.

  Griffen watched the passing scenery and mentally blotted out the conversation between Valerie and Jerome as he tried to sort out his thoughts. He still hadn’t managed to get any sleep, and the last few days were taking on an almost surreal aura in his mind.

  Dragons.

  He didn’t feel like a dragon. In fact, he didn’t feel any different than he had two days ago. He hadn’t been able to turn into one when he needed to. Still, Valerie was right. It seemed enough other people believed in it and were willing to act on it that he had to take it seriously.

  Unfortunately, taking it seriously now had him en route to New Orleans with someone he only knew as a gambling acquaintance.

  Before they had gotten into the Jeep, Valerie had pulled him aside. Giving Jerome a none-too-friendly look and asking to talk with Griffen privately. As usual, she cut straight through the bullshit.

  “You know you are being an idiot, Big Brother,” she said.

  “So what else is new?”

  She sighed and crossed her arms.

  “I know he’s your friend, and you trust your friends too much sometimes. That doesn’t mean you can trust whoever he works for.”

  “Maybe we can, maybe we can’t, but how can we know till we get there?” Griffen said.

  “Okay, but don’t you think his showing up is awfully convenient?”

  She looked shocked and then angry when Griffen laughed.

  “For us maybe. For him, not a chance. He timed this very carefully and spent more time and effort than he wants to admit tracking me down. Not to mention enrolling in a school and putting in a few years. No, frankly I didn’t think Jerome had this kind of patience, which makes me want to meet his boss all the more.”

  He wrapped an arm around her waist and gave her a squeeze.

  “Little Sister, you are just mad you can’t think of any better ideas.”

  “Damn straight!”

  She grinned, finally relenting, but the first part of the drive had been tense. She had glared at Jerome and it was she who finally asked for more detail about the organization. Griffen didn’t stop her, not that he could if he tried. Besides, he wanted to know, too.

  “Now, Mose is the man who’s been running our crew for a while,” Jerome was saying. “Once you get settled in, I’ll introduce you to him and he can start teaching you the ropes.”

  “So, what kind of specialty is your crew involved in?” Valerie said.

  “This and that,” Jerome said, “mostly on the edge of the law. Our main income comes from gambling.”

  “Wait a minute,” Griffen said. “Are we talking about organized crime here?”

  Jerome laughed.

  “Like I read somewhere, when you see it up close, it ain’t all that organized.”

  “Does the ‘this and that’ part include drugs and prostitution?” Griffen said. “’Cause I’ll tell you Jerome, I don’t think I could be part of that.”

  “That’s up to you,” Jerome said. “You might want to take a closer look at it before you make your decision, though.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I don’t think you’ll find it’s what you think. The way we do it, it’s not like you see in the movies.”

  “Suppose you tell me about it.”

  “Well, as to the drugs, we don’t do any street
sales or anything like that,” Jerome said. “If a player in one of our games wants some pot or maybe a little coke, we know some people to call to get him some. That’s about the extent of it. If anyone wants the hard stuff like heroin or crack, they got to leave the game and find it on their own, and even then we probably won’t let ’em back in. We don’t mess with junk like that.”

  “And prostitution?” Valerie put in.

  “Same thing. We don’t run strings or do any recruiting,” Jerome said. “If a player is looking for company, we know a few girls we can call…not full-time professionals, but bartenders or secretaries who turn an occasional trick to supplement their income. Even then we don’t take a piece off the top. We make our money from gambling.”

  “Isn’t there a casino in New Orleans already?” Griffen said. “And I know there are some in Biloxi. Why do people sit in on your illegal games when they can gamble legit at a casino?”

  “I can answer that in one,” Jerome said. “Taxes. You win big at one of the casinos, it gets reported to the IRS. What happens at our games is between us and the players. If you win, it’s pure profit without paying a slice to Uncle Whiskers.”

  “There’s another point, too,” he continued. “Mose has been running his games for a long time…a lot longer than the casinos have been around. Some of the players that sit in when they’re in town have been playing in his games since way back…some of their daddies, too. It’s kind of a tradition with them, and if there’s one thing New Orleans is big on, it’s tradition.”

  “So, how are they going to react when you run Grifter here in on them?” Valerie said. “Doesn’t that kind of mess up this whole tradition thing?”

  “Don’t rightly know,” Jerome said. “I expect Mose has some plan in mind to ease you in. There might be a few problems, though. We’ll just have to see.”

  “What about you?” Griffen said.