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… power
ful.
“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.”
“Because you have no idea what to expect. Believe me, you have no idea how rare mixed parties of this scale are. I’ve only been to two before, and those were much smaller. I think the only reason this fool conclave got started was to have an excuse for the ball at the end of it.”
Mai moved up to him, close enough to press against him but stopping just shy of that. She stood up on her tiptoes, half-draping her arms around his neck as she slid the mask onto his face. She leaned her face up, lips close to his, whispering as she tied the mask.
“A little death isn’t going to get in the way of that. In fact, if there is any place to go to forget such things, it is there. It’s not your dark apartment, all alone except for your brooding.”
Despite himself, the flirting was lifting Griffen’s spirits.
“You are just saying that because they won’t let you in without me,” he said.
“They are awfully nervous about party-crashing dragons. Besides it’s more fun to crash on the arm of the one man no one is going to argue with. Like going to a film premiere with the director.”
She closed the last half inch of distance and kissed him. The scales of the dress felt warm and almost alive under his hands. Her teeth pulled lightly at the bottom of his lip.
“Please?” she said, not quite letting him go.
“Welllll…” he said, drawing it out as much as he could.
It was amazing how quick one’s mood could change. With the right motivation.
“Besides, aren’t you dying to see if your little sister actually shows up with the dragon hunter?” Mai said. “Enemies dancing together in polite society, making small talk in a potentially hostile environment. Won’t it be fun to see them watch one another’s backs?”
“Somehow I knew you would know about that. And you’re right, damn it.”
Valerie had been worried about something; maybe George stepped on people’s feet literally as well as figuratively.
Mai grinned and slipped out of Griffen’s grip. For a moment, she looked like a child who had just gotten the present she wanted. She even took a little spin before taking one of Griffen’s hands in both of hers.
“Come on, then. If we leave now, we can be almost perfectly fashionably late,” Mai said.
Griffen let himself be drawn out the door, mostly because it was the first chance he had gotten to see the back of her dress. From the back of the collar down, laces crisscrossed over an exposed spine almost to her tailbone. Definitely not a traditional oriental element.
He half realized that he was beginning to look forward to the night.
The other half of him thought that getting his hopes up was probably very unwise.
Fifty-one
Griffen walked into the Conclave Masquerade, and was overwhelmed.
Before his eyes could register details, they were filled with a barrage of colors. As soon as he walked through the doors and into the massive ballroom, he could only stop and stare. Mai, attached at his elbow, picked up on his hesitation immediately. She shifted her posture, framing herself against the backlighting from the doors. A part of him realized what she was doing, that she was making it appear that the two were just pausing, making a more dramatic entrance. That part was thankful, the rest was just taking everything in.
First of all, it was hardly like walking into a ballroom at all. Oh, the features were there: grand chandeliers that looked expensive and impossible to clean, architecturally useless columns along the walls, a sea of marble that made up the dance floor. That was where the similarity stopped, though.
It was like stepping into a forest glade. An unnatural, moon-lit forest from someone’s dreams. Fog covered the ground, ankle thick, except for the dance floor. It didn’t move right, didn’t seem to follow the light breezes in the room. Instead, it rolled in shallow waves and thin tendrils that seemed to explore. Moving of their own volition. Every once in a while a small snake of fog would move across the dance floor, almost seeming to twist to avoid the dancers.
Tables rose like stones in the fog. Tablecloths of soft gray and green covered them, looking like moss and rocks. The tables were small, big enough only for three or four people, an obvious attempt to break up the cliques and groups that kept forming all throughout the conclave. The only exceptions were two long tables, one covered in dishes of food and a small wet bar, and the other against the far wall, set so that those sitting at it could see the whole room. Nameplates sat at each place, and Griffen bet that his name would be on one.
The walls had been decorated, changed, with twisting cords or material that might have been rope or might have been live vines. If vines came in pale purples and blues and the occasional scintillating gold. Trees seemed to grow out of the walls, trees of metal and crystal and glass that still somehow seemed alive. The light filtered through the various materials and sent hundreds of small reflections glittering over the walls and fog.
And the light itself came not just from the candles or the chandeliers. Balls of colored light, greens, blues, purples, seemed to dance in midair. These constantly moving orbs cast little in the way of true illumination but enhanced and changed the colors of everything around them. Griffen had no idea what made them, just as he could see no obvious source for the fog, but the combined effect was breathtaking… magical.
And all that before he started tracking the individual people.
Griffen was beginning to feel self-conscious, and decidedly underdressed. Some of the people in the crowd made Mai look almost drab. Costuming ranged from simple masks to elaborate, from modern horror to Victorian drag.
A woman Griffen hadn’t noticed before was dressed in a Carmen Miranda outfit, except that a straw stuck out of the pineapple hat. As he watched, she took off her hat, took a sip from the straw, and replaced it. She was chatting with a man in a cloak so large and black that Griffen couldn’t se
e his hands, much less his face. Nearby, three people dressed as trees talked, looking like the Forest of No Return at a cocktail party. Griffen idly wondered if Tammy would be using her shifting as a part of her costume, but doubted it after the ribbing she’d gotten.
Someone dressed up as a twelve-foot robot clomped through the fog toward the buffet table, and was followed by a woman dressed as a mechanic with a five-foot-long wrench. Three people dressed as Abe Lincoln, at least one of them female, sat together at one of the tables, engaged in a three-way thumb war. And, of course, a classic at any Halloween party, no matter how elaborate, one person standing near the wall, wearing a sheet with holes cut out for the eyes.
For the most part, he couldn’t tell who was who or, more important, what. Which meant that no one was bothering to group themselves together but mingled freely. Laughter mixed with music and talk. Griffen smiled and stepped forward, Mai falling into step with him perfectly. The doors shut behind him.
Perhaps it was the change in his attitude, or maybe the observational skills that were part of being a dragon. As he moved into the room proper, he began to see small details that, anywhere else, he might dismiss as fantastic costuming. Here he realized what he was seeing: the supernatural, letting its proverbial hair down.
A werewolf, more impressive than any he had seen on the silver screen, sat at one of the tables, its tail wagging in time with the music. A demon and angel danced together on the floor, and though their wings were fake, each was dancing about three inches above the fog. One of the first people Griffen actually recognized was one of the “lesser” shifters, who was dressed as a simple jester in red and yellow. Only his hands were on fire. No, his hands were fire, and he kept arcing it back and forth between them like a Slinky.
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