“Why did you say that?” he asked carefully.
“Well, isn’t that what you said was your problem with working for your crazy uncle?”
“No. What I said was that he had some weird notion that he was a half-human superbeing. I didn’t say anything about dragons.”
“Sure you did,” she insisted. “What’s more, he tried to convince you that you and your sister were dragons, too.”
“No,” Griffen insisted doggedly. “If anything, I’ve made a point of not using that word. It’s such a crazy notion I don’t even like to think about it.”
“So what?” Mai shrugged. “Maybe what you were describing sounded like a dragon and I just put a name to it. No big deal.”
“But why that particular word?” he pressed. “I mean, when I think of crazy people, I don’t automatically think of dragons. At least, I didn’t used to.”
“Look. We’re getting way off the subject,” Mai said firmly. “Let’s get this job thing settled right now.”
She tossed her napkin on the table and rose to her feet, fishing her cell phone from her shoulder bag.
“I’m going to duck outside, call Daddy, and explain the whole situation to him. He’ll come up with a job, and we’ll have something to celebrate instead of arguing about your loony uncle.”
Griffen started to stand politely, but she was already on her way, weaving her way majestically through the other tables. Settling into his seat once more, he stared morosely at his barely touched dinner.
What was wrong with him? He was letting this dragon thing bother him way too much. He had never really been that close to Uncle Malcolm. Why should his obsession with dragons matter one way or the other?
Still, he was sure that he hadn’t mentioned dragons to Mai when he told her about the meeting. The casual way she referenced it didn’t seem like a spur of the moment label she had just made up. How could she know about the whole dragon thing. Unless…
He shook his head as if trying to forget a bad dream.
He was doing it again. He didn’t really believe what his uncle had said for one minute. Did he? It was true that the senator’s apparent knowledge and belief had given him pause, but he didn’t believe it himself.
What was it Uncle Malcolm had said about the Eastern dragons? That they stayed apart from their European counterparts and their descendants, but were suspected to be secretly monitoring Western dragon activity?
Now that was really getting silly. The “Yellow Peril” thing went out with Fu Manchu. Besides, Mai was as American as he himself was.
He found himself staring at the half-finished lobster on her plate. Now that was really unusual. Once she started eating, Mai didn’t let anything interrupt her meal short of a nuclear attack…and even then she’d ask for a doggie bag. Yet when he started pressing her on the dragon thing…
Suddenly restless, Griffen stood up and went looking for his dining companion.
Before he could reach the door of the restaurant, however, he was intercepted by their waiter.
“May I help you, sir?”
Griffen was suddenly aware that it looked as if her were trying to duck out on the bill.
“No, everything is fine,” he said with a smile. “I was just checking to see how my date’s phone call was going is all.”
“Phone call?”
“Yes. She stepped outside to get better reception on her cell phone.”
The waiter frowned.
“Umm…I think there must be some mistaken communication here, sir,” he said hesitantly. “The young lady you were dining with has left. I was a bit surprised myself, since she didn’t seem ill or upset, but I saw her hail a cab just outside our door.”
Five
Mai wasn’t in their hotel room when Griffen returned. Also missing were her bags and clothes.
He knew from previous outings with her that she was far from the world’s fastest packer. That meant that she must have been particularly motivated to have gotten back to the hotel, packed, and departed before he had figured out her ploy and returned himself.
This did little to put Griffen’s mind, already in a turmoil, at ease. What had started out as a clever ploy to try to land a cushy job had turned out to be the most disruptive day of his life.
First his uncle Malcolm, instead of offering him a job, had given him a load of nonsense about dragons. Then there was the conversation with the senator and his bodyguards that weren’t. Now, on top of it all, his old playmate Mai not only turned out to be aware of the whole dragons thing, but had done a disappearing act rather than answer any questions.
Maybe he should have taken Malcolm more seriously…or, at least, listened closer.
What all had he said about dragons again?
They were long-lived, and resistant to illness or injury. Did that mean that he could have taken on the two bodyguards if they had come after him? Resistant didn’t mean invulnerable. Besides, what if they were part dragon themselves? That grip had hurt.
Griffen shook off that train of thought. Was he really ready to accept his uncle’s delusion? Had his lack of options made him that desperate? He already had his doubts, and half blamed himself for scaring off Mai. Who wouldn’t run off at such crazy talk?
Animal control. Something about animal control. Actually, that could be kind of neat…if it were true. Unfortunately, there weren’t any animals in the hotel room for him to try it out on. What was more, he had no inclination to head out onto the city streets to look for subjects. Then again, could it possibly work on weaker-minded humans…like those without any dragon blood in them? Didn’t Malcolm specifically mention that dragons were charismatic and able to influence people to a disproportionate degree? Was that just another form of animal control?
Despite his scattered thoughts, Griffen had to smile. “These aren’t the droids you’re looking for. Move along.” No. It was just too silly to be taken seriously. But wasn’t he doing precisely that?
Griffen was pacing the limited confines of the room now, moving from the window facing an air shaft to the bathroom door and back. Idly, he found himself wishing that he smoked, if for nothing else than a hand prop. As a poker player, he had never developed the habit. Too many tells were possible just from lighting a cigarette, as he knew from exploiting the same in others. On the other hand, if what Malcolm had said was correct, getting cancer was the least of his worries currently.
He made himself stop pacing, leaning his forehead against the wall. The cool plaster did nothing to ease the ache in his head. It was too much. Dragons, he was actually running through the characteristics of dragons. His thoughts were colliding, his heart pumping, pulse as loud in his ears as the absurdity in his brain. If it had just been his uncle. Even just his uncle and the senator, though the latter was harder to brush off. Then Mai, leaving him like that. Instantly, without hesitation, as if he were…nothing.
Or as if he were a threat.
A dragon?
What else? Heightened senses. Now that was something Griffen could relate to. Of course, up until now, he had always assumed that everyone else had the same powers of observation that he had, but never developed them or used them. Maybe he was something special.
Leaning away from the wall, he stood still, trying to calm himself. He let his concentration go out of focus and stretched out his senses to “feel” the hotel around him. The task proving a focus for his calm. It was so easy to do and…
There was someone outside the door of his room!
Now that he was “listening,” Griffen could hear the minute sounds of breathing and clothes rustling in the hall. What was more, they weren’t passing by. They were just standing there.
His first thought was that it was Mai, but he quickly discarded it. Mai would have simply used her key and come in, or, at least, knocked. Besides, it didn’t sound like Mai. It sounded like someone who was trying hard not to be heard.
He never even considered the possibility that it might be someone random trying to reme
mber their room number. With all the other weird stuff that had happened today, that would be too much of a coincidence.
No, someone was specifically trying to check up on him. But who? Other than Mai, who knew where he was staying? Malcolm had never even asked. The senator! Or, for that matter, the two so-called bodyguards.
Or worse? Griffen suddenly realized, he only knew of three that seemed to be watching him, but how many knew of him? He wouldn’t have known about the senator if he hadn’t been summoned into the limo. Was this another party interested in the new dragon? Another recruitment attempt?
Or one of the ones who thought recruitment was too risky?
He had sudden visions of someone waiting outside with a gun. Or maybe just teeth and flaming breath. Terror and absurdity and indignation all flared up in him suddenly. He was torn between a sudden fear of opening the door, and a burning desire to confront whoever was out there and settle things once and for all.
And, like a dam breaking, all emotions eased away into sudden calm.
They had left.
As he had weighed the pluses and minuses of his choices, his senses had still been tracking the figure. Whoever it was seemed to have moved off while he was sorting out what to do. The threat, real or imagined, was gone. His body had relaxed accordingly.
Moving to the door, he first checked the crack of light showing under the entrance, but could see nothing. Cracking the door, he looked out cautiously, then boldly stuck his head into the hall. The corridor was empty. Whoever it had been had vanished completely.
Closing the door, Griffen turned the night lock, then put on the security bar for an added safeguard. His hand shook slightly, and he realized he wasn’t all that calm after all. At this point, he wasn’t even going to try to pretend that he wasn’t spooked.
Turning away, his foot hit something on the floor. It was a small piece of paper, possibly a note or an advertisement had been slipped under his door. He felt another small wave of relief. That would explain why a stranger had approached his room.
He stooped and picked it up. Examining it, it turned out to be a tarot card…the Knight of Swords to be specific. It was from a small deck, so the card was barely the size of a business card. There was no writing or other message on it.
Griffen frowned at the card. Instead of finding an explanation to the presence in the hall, he was presented with a new mystery.
The phone rang; the sound like a fire alarm, loud in the stillness of the room.
Griffen collected his nerves from where they were clinging to the ceiling like a velcro cat and reached for the phone. An inch from the receiver, he hesitated. There was no way this was going to be anything good…unless it was Mai.
Cursing himself for being a nervous Nellie, he picked up the phone.
“Hello?”
There was a moment’s hesitation on the other end.
“Griffen? Are you alone?”
Griffen relaxed as he recognized the voice.
“Hi, Uncle Mal. Yes, I’m alone. What’s up?”
“I wanted to warn you,” his uncle said. “Things have changed since we talked earlier.”
“Changed how?”
“Some of the other dragon factions I mentioned know you’re in town.”
“No kidding,” Griffen said with a sarcastic laugh. “I’ve already run into some of them.”
“What happened?”
Griffen proceeded to narrate his meeting with the senator, including his suspicions about the bodyguards. As he did, he found himself waving his arms wildly and pacing with the phone next to his ear. Here, alone in the hotel room, he allowed himself the physical release, though he was sure his voice would match it with at least a little strain.
There were several moments of silence after he finished.
“Not good,” his uncle said at last.
“It gets worse,” Griffen said. “I think there was someone outside the door of my room a little while ago. They’re gone now, but it creeped me out a little. Whoever it was left a calling card. They slipped a tarot card, the Knight of Swords, under my door.”
“The Knight of Swords?” Malcolm’s voice was suddenly very sharp. “Are you sure?”
“I’m holding it in my hand right now,” Griffen said. “Why? What does it mean?”
“I’m sorry, I can’t tell you that,” his uncle said. “It would be too much like interfering. I shouldn’t even be talking to you, Griffen, but family’s family. All I can do is give you a warning. Get out of there now. Don’t wait until morning. Get out right now. As fast as you can.”
“But where should I go?” Griffen said, taken aback. He glanced at the door, the window, even the door to the bathroom.
“I don’t know, and if you think of someplace, don’t tell me. What I don’t know, they can’t get out of me. Good luck.”
Griffen started to ask something but realized he was talking to a dial tone.
Replacing the receiver, he started gathering up what few clothes he was traveling with. If nothing else, his uncle Mal had convinced him he had to get out of the hotel and out of town as soon as possible…like, right now.
As to where he was going, he had no plans to return to his old campus. The few items he had been planning to pick up later were unimportant. No, he was thinking of something truly precious. His sister. Valerie’s school was still in session, and he wanted to talk things over with her. Something about what Malcolm had said about the dragons “having other plans for her” didn’t sit quite right in his mind.
Six
Tooling down the expressway with the morning sun rising on his left, Griffen realized he wasn’t in the least tired despite his driving through the entire night. Other than a couple stops for fuel and a quick stop at a Waffle House to stretch his legs and grab a bite, he had been behind the wheel for nearly ten hours and felt as fresh as when he had started.
He found himself wondering if this was one of the so-called dragon powers that Uncle Malcolm had talked about, then caught himself and forced the thought from his mind. He had promised himself that he wouldn’t fret over the whole dragon thing until after he had a chance to talk to his sister. Besides, it was more likely that he simply enjoyed driving his car.
A state trooper eased up beside him with customary predatory smoothness, paused to look him over, then glided on ahead.
Griffen was neither worried nor surprised. It was the third or fourth time that had happened during this run alone. He knew he was well within the speed limit, being in no particular hurry, and was used to his vehicle drawing attention.
It was an old Sunbeam Tiger with its original British racing green paint, with a black top and trim. A few people recognized the body as being the same kind of car that Maxwell Smart had driven during the opening of the old Get Smart television series. Except Max had been driving a Sunbeam Alpine, not a Sunbeam Tiger. Only a few sports car fanatics were aware of the difference.
The Alpine was a sporty little two seater with a four-cylinder engine. The Tiger, on the other hand, used the same body, but had a Ford V-8 engine crammed in under the hood. Basically, it was an engine on wheels with a thin candy shell, and could hit 120 mph with comfort.
Griffen had lusted after the car the first time he set eyes on it, though even now he felt a twinge of guilt recalling how he acquired it.
It wasn’t really his fault, he told himself for the hundredth time. The kid who owned it was legally an adult, and no one had put a gun to his head to get him to sit in on a high-stakes poker game. Definitely no one was to blame that the kid hung in until he was deep in the hole. It had been a fair game, and there was no reason for Griffen to feel any guilt over his winnings.
Even as he reviewed the evening, however, Griffen found himself again shaking his head in disgust. His oft-recalled justifications didn’t nearly take into account the whole story. Fair game or no, the kid had no business being there. He was perhaps a decent frat or dorm game poker player, but he had been way over his head that night. The o
nly reason he had sat in at all was that he was flattered that Griffen had invited him to play. Even then, he might have bailed out after a while if Griffen hadn’t encouraged and flattered him, loaning him the necessary cash to hang in while “waiting for his luck to change.” When the debts were totaled up at the end of the evening, however, it was clear that the kid would never be able to come close to buying back his IOUs. That was when Griffen had offered to tear up the chits and give the kid an additional five grand in exchange for his car.
Griffen still felt twinges of remorse over that deal. It certainly wasn’t the last time he had used his poker and people skills to further his own ends, but it was the most blatant gambit he had ever pulled simply to get something he wanted. He felt bad about it, but not bad enough to give the car back. The car, which he named the Goblin, was his pride and joy, and he had taken his share of trophies driving it in gymkhanas, those amateur races where you run a driving obstacle course against a stopwatch.
Two pickup trucks were cruising along in the slow lane ahead of him. Without changing speed, he switched to the passing lane to ease past them.
As he passed the lead truck, he glanced over at the driver, thinking to give him a pleasant nod of the head as a road courtesy. Instead of meeting his gaze, the man responded by accelerating, matching Griffen’s speed so he couldn’t pull ahead.
Annoyed, Griffen glanced in his rearview mirror, thinking to pull back in behind the suddenly awake trucker. The trailing truck, the one he had already passed, had switched lanes and was now sitting on his rear bumper, also matching his speed.
A small trickle of alarm woke in Griffen’s mind. Whether they had intended to or not, the two trucks now had him boxed in against the soft shoulder.
Easing up on the gas pedal, he tapped his brakes lightly so his taillights would flash, trying to signal to the truck behind him that he wanted to slow down and return to his original lane.
Instead of slowing to let him escape, the truck behind him suddenly accelerated, ramming his rear bumper and forcing him to speed up. The truck alongside him matched the move, not only increasing its speed, but edging over until its left wheels were crossing the center stripe.
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