Dragons Wild gm-1

by Robert Asprin

  “It just doesn’t seem right, is all,” Griffen said, almost to himself.

  “Right or not, that’s the way things are,” Jerome said firmly. “Welcome to the real world, Young Dragon. You can’t save everyone, especially not from themselves. The most we can do is try to take care of our own…and in this case that means showing up at the funeral to pay our respects.”

  “Well, at least from what I hear your funerals down here are livelier than in other cities.” Griffen sighed.

  “Don’t believe all the hype, Grifter,” Jerome said. “Not all funerals down here are jazz funerals with second lines. Most of them are as sad and depressing as funerals anywhere.”

  The funeral had been as low-key and sad as Jerome had predicted. There were no colorful brass bands or people dancing with parasols and handkerchiefs on the way back from the cemetery. Just long-faced people who spoke in low tones and cried from time to time.

  The crowd was mostly black, but there was a fair spattering of whites and Latinos in the gathering. Griffen supposed that they were people from the hotel where Reggie had worked, but never got a chance to converse with any of them to confirm or deny his assumption.

  He had tried to hang back in the group, but Mose had taken him by the arm and brought him forward to meet Reggie’s family. They all seemed to know who he was, and were genuinely pleased to meet him in person, effusive in their gratitude for his attendance.

  Afterward, he and Jerome accompanied Mose back to the latter’s residence for drinks and conversation.

  “This may not be the right time to bring it up,” Griffen said, contemplating his glass, “but there’s something I want to discuss with both of you.”

  “And what would that be, Young Dragon?” Mose said, leaning back in his easy chair.

  “I want to implement a new policy in our organization,” Griffen said. “I want to set a rule that people can either work for us or deal dope, but not both.”

  Mose and Jerome exchanged glances.

  “I don’t know, Grifter,” Jerome said carefully. “We don’t pay our spotters enough for them to live on. I’m not sure it’s fair to cut them off from a source of income.”

  “I don’t care,” Griffen said firmly. “They’re already getting paid by the hotels and clubs they work for. If that’s not enough combined with what we pay them, there are other ways of making money in this town without selling dope on the side.”

  “You’ve been down on dope ever since you got down here,” Mose said. “There’s no way you’re going to get people to stop using it.”

  “I know that,” Griffen said. “I’m not trying to reform the world or even the town.”

  He paused for a moment to gather his thoughts.

  “I don’t get the whole drug thing,” he admitted. “I’ve never used them myself, and I don’t understand what the attraction is that draws people to them. Fine. There are lots of things that people do that I don’t understand or take part in. People are different, and differences make the world go ’round. But this drug thing…”

  He hesitated again, then shook his head.

  “Aside from the fact that drugs are illegal and dangerous, from what Jerome says there are people getting killed over them. I can’t stop it, but I don’t want to contribute to it either. Gambling I don’t mind, but I don’t want to be the head of a group of dope dealers, even if it’s only a sideline. More specifically, I don’t want to go to any more funerals for our people, meet their families and watch them cry, because they were dealing dope on the side. Maybe it’s selfish of me, but that’s the way I feel.”

  Jerome looked at Mose, who scratched his head, then ran his hand over his face.

  “All right, Young Dragon,” he said at last. “If you feel that strongly about it, we’ll give it a try. We’ll put the word out and give our people a week to make up their minds. One thing you should remember, though. After the fall the other day, it’s definitely the George on your tail. Can’t think of anyone else, including most other dragons, who could have done that to you without you even seeing their face. I’d think that was trouble enough without your looking for some more by stirring up the locals with a no-drug policy.”

  Thirty-three

  Griffen couldn’t sleep.

  He’d tried calling it an early evening…well, early for him, anyway…and had called it a night around 2:30 a.m. He had even managed to go to sleep.

  Now it was quarter to four in the morning and he was wide-awake. He didn’t know what had awakened him. There was no apparent noise, either inside or outside his apartment, but he was awake and felt no inclination to go back to sleep.

  He considered reading for a while, but realized that for some reason he was feeling restless. Yielding to an impulse, he pulled on his pants and pair of shoes and headed out again.

  The courtyard of his complex was quiet. Valerie’s apartment was dark. Either she had also crashed early, or she was still out.

  Glancing idly around, he noticed the usual contingent of the complex’s stray cats were also nowhere to be seen. Apparently it was an off night for everyone.

  A scratchy rustling caught his attention. An oversized cockroach, nearly half the size of his fist, was crawling across the flagstones heading straight for him.

  Grimacing slightly, Griffen decided to try his so-called animal-control powers one more time. Frowning, he focused his mind into sending the insect a message, specifically to go away.

  The cockroach hesitated, then continued to approach.

  So much for animal control. Turning his back on the beast, Griffen crossed the courtyard and let himself out of the gate onto the street.

  Pausing for a moment, he considered his options. Harry’s Corner was close and open twenty-four hours a day, but he didn’t really feel like a drink just now. Instead, he decided to take a stroll along the Moonwalk. Sometimes walking along the river helped to clear his mind. Even if it didn’t, perhaps the exercise would make him tired enough to sleep.

  Turning south, he sauntered slowly along the street, enjoying the quiet of the early morning.

  Jackson Square was deserted when he reached it. Even the late-working street entertainers had called it a night and packed it in, even though the floodlights in front of the cathedral lit the area to near-day brightness. Griffen didn’t mind. Sometimes having the familiar streets to himself was a pleasant change.

  “I believe we need to talk.”

  The words were soft spoken, but came to him quite clearly.

  Looking around, Griffen saw a woman sitting on one of the benches that circled the Square. He hadn’t noticed her before, but she was partially in shadow so that was understandable.

  His first thought was that she was a panhandler, and that he was about to be approached with yet one more pitch to separate him from a few dollars. On second thought, however, he reconsidered. She didn’t look like a panhandler. She was black, in her late twenties to early thirties, and dressed in a white cotton blouse with a light fabric, multicolored full skirt. There was a dark handkerchief wrapped around her head, but he could still see that her hair was long, halfway down her back.

  “I’m sorry, do I know you?” Griffen said, stalling slightly for time.

  “We have never met,” the woman said, “but I have heard much about you, Griffen McCandles. There are those who are concerned about your presence in town and what it might mean to them. I felt it was time to meet you in person and to form my own opinion.”

  Despite his normal wariness, Griffen was intrigued. If this was a pitch for a handout, it was an approach he had never encountered before.

  “You seem to have me at a disadvantage,” he said, wandering closer. “You know my name, but I know nothing about you.”

  “My name is Rose,” the woman said, gesturing for him to join her on the bench. “I am a practitioner of Santeria…what you would call a voodoo queen.”

  It occurred to Griffen that a month and a half ago, he would have found such a claim to be ludicrous. Now,
he was merely curious, and a little cautious. This woman didn’t look like a threat to him, but how could he be sure? It was amazing what even a short time of living in the Quarter could do for one’s outlook on life.

  “I don’t understand,” he said, taking the indicated seat. “While I’m not a practitioner or a believer, I have some friends who are, and to the best of my knowledge I’ve never been opposed to or even disrespectful of your religion. Why should my presence be noticed, much less be of concern to anyone?”

  “Because you are a power,” Rose said. “A new power here in this area. We know of dragons, and have kept ourselves apart from their machinations. Word has been passed around, however, that it is your intent to exert your influence on all of us, to attempt to unite the various supernatural elements of this area under you control or command. You can see why this would cause some concern.”

  “But that’s ridiculous,” Griffen protested.

  Griffen had to consciously keep his jaw from dropping. He was having a hard enough time coming to grips with all that was around him. The idea of trying to control anyone, much less people he’s never met, had never occurred to him.

  “All I’m doing is trying to learn about Mose’s gambling operation. The main reason I came to town is to try to get away from dragons who either want to recruit me or kill me.”

  “I can see that, now that we’ve met,” the woman said. “I look into your heart and I see no greed or even ambition there…at least not so far. I will attempt to reassure those who will listen, but you can understand why there are those who are afraid of…what is it?”

  Griffen forced his attention back to the conversation.

  “It’s nothing,” he said. “Please. Go on.”

  “No. Tell me,” Rose pressed. “What is it that concerns you?”

  “It’s silly, but it’s that cockroach,” he said, pointing to an oversized insect determinedly making its way toward them. “I saw one just like it when I was leaving my complex and…I know it sounds crazy…but I’d swear it’s the same one. I think it’s following me.”

  “I see,” Rose said, leaning forward to stare at the indicated insect. “Well, if you like, I can do something about that.”

  “Could you?” Griffen said. “I’d appreciate it.”

  He didn’t really believe Rose could do anything, just as he didn’t really believe the cockroach was following him. Still, he was curious to see what kind of hex or ritual the voodoo queen would come up with. He didn’t have long to wait.

  Rising from her seat, Rose poised for a moment, then took a long step and stomped hard on the insect with her foot.

  “There,” she said, resuming her seat. “That should take care of it. Someone will have a headache for sure.”

  “I’d say more than a headache,” Griffen said, stifling a grin. “I doubt it has a mind left at all after that.”

  “Not the bug, Mr. Griffen,” Rose said, shaking her head. “I’m talking about whoever was using their mind to control it.”

  “Control it,” Griffen said, staring at the insect’s remains.

  “Remember I told you that some of the folks down here are afraid of you?” the woman said. “Well, there’s one group that has a rapport with animals. Even more than the witches and their familiars. It would not be unlike them to use various animals to spy on you…or even to attack you if they were fearful enough.”

  “Well, you said that you would tell them that I’m harmless. Right?” Griffen said. “That should take care of everything.”

  “I said that I would try,” the voodoo queen said. “Not everyone listens to Rose. I have something here that might help you with those that don’t.”

  She dug into her handbag, and produced something that she handed to Griffen, who examined it. It was a double strand of small black and red beads.

  “You put those on now, and wear them all the time,” she said. “They will give you some protection, and mark you as a friend.”

  Griffen followed the instructions, then hesitated, suddenly awkward.

  “Um, look,” he said. “I don’t want to be disrespectful or insulting, but may I make some sort of a contribution to your temple or whatever to show my thanks for your help and advice?”

  “No need for that,” Rose said with a laugh. “You just remember who your friends are while you’re sorting things out. You may need some allies, and there are times we might need to call on you for assistance as well.”

  “I see. Sort of ‘Someday I owe you a little favor.’ Right?” Griffen said.

  “Something like that. But without the hokey sound track.” The woman smiled. “Now, you go along home. You won’t have any trouble sleeping now that we’ve talked.”

  Griffen was leaving the Square before it occurred to him that he hadn’t said anything to Rose about not being able to sleep. He turned and looked back, but couldn’t see her anywhere.

  “Hey, Grifter.”

  He spun around to find Jerome approaching.

  “Jeez! You startled me, Jerome,” he said. “Don’t sneak up on me that way.”

  “Since when was walking down the street ‘sneaking up on you’?” Jerome said. “I swung by your place to see if you were still up, but when you didn’t answer I thought you were already asleep. I was just going to have one last one and call it a night.”

  “Sorry,” Griffen said. “I guess I’m just a little jumpy. I was just talking with one of your voodoo people and I’ll admit, it spooked me a bit.”

  “Really? Who was it?”

  “She said she was a voodoo queen, name of Rose. She gave me these beads to…what is it?”

  Jerome was staring at him.

  “Excuse me. Did you say ‘Rose’?” he said softly.

  “That’s how she introduced herself,” Griffen said. “Why? Is she someone important?”

  “Grifter,” Jerome said carefully. “Rose has been dead over eight years now.”

  The beads suddenly felt very cold around Griffen’s neck.

  “I don’t like that. No, suh. I don’t like that one bit.”

  Mose was pacing back and forth in his living room as Griffen and Jerome watched. Griffen noticed that the more upset the old man got, the more he slipped into a black southern accent.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “She seemed nice enough to me.”

  “I’m not talkin’ ’bout Rose,” Mose said sharply. “She was always a fine lady. I’m talkin’ ’bout what she told you. ’Bout the animal folks gettin’ stirred up against you.”

  Griffen frowned.

  “But she also said that she was going to talk to them and try to calm them down. Won’t that take care of it?”

  “She said she’d try to calm them down,” the old man said pointedly. “That’s not the same thing. What’s more important is who stirred them up in the first place. That sounds like dragon work to me.”

  “You think it’s Stoner?” Jerome said from where he was leaning against the wall.

  Mose thought for a moment, then shook his head.

  “Naw. It’s not his style,” he said. “Stoner is more one to use his own people. He doesn’t have the patience to work with locals.”

  “Any ideas, then?” Jerome pressed.

  “My first thought is that it might be Malinda,” Mose said. “But she normally sticks to the northeast.”

  “Who’s Malinda?” Griffen said.

  “Old-school dragon,” Mose said. “She works with her family. The dragon equivalent of Ma Barker. Greedy as hell. Her main thing is building up wealth…and I don’t mean with investments. She gets her money the old-fashioned way. She steals it.”

  “She’s a thief?” Griffen said.

  “More like a pirate,” Jerome said. “She’s a corporate raider. Buys up weak companies, then breaks them up and sells them piecemeal. It’s the white-collar version of a stolen car chop shop.”

  “The thing is, I don’t see where she’d profit by going after Griffen,” Mose said. “He’s not a threat to her. And
there’s not enough money in our operation to interest a high roller like her.”

  “Don’t forget she’s got those kids,” Jerome said. “She may be looking for something for them to sharpen their claws on. If she thinks our operation is weak and ripe for a takeover, targeting Griffen as a backdoor in would be taking care of two birds with one stone.”

  “Could be,” Mose said slowly. “That kind of two-pronged attack, creating a diversion so you don’t notice her marching up on you, would be just her style.”

  “So, what are we supposed to do in the meantime?” Griffen said.

  “I’ll put out a few quiet feelers in that direction and try to get a fix on what’s going on,” Mose said. “We don’t want to put any moves on her until we’re sure she’s the one stalking you. If we’re wrong, then she’ll see it as an attack, and we’ll have to deal with both her and whoever it really is coming at us.”

  “I guess I meant, what am I supposed to do?” Griffen said. “Do I just sit around and play decoy? Or should I be trying to talk to these animal people myself?”

  “Leave that job to Rose,” Mose said. “I think it’s time to work on your animal control skills a bit. Just in case they won’t listen to Rose.”

  “I don’t know,” Griffen said. “I mean, I’d love to get some training. But I’ve fooled around with the animal control thing a bit since I got down here, just for curiosity and because it sounded neat. Frankly, I haven’t had much luck with it.”

  “It’s like any other muscle or skill,” Mose said. “You’ve got to work with it, practice it, and develop it before you can rely on it. Besides, you might have been playing into a stacked deck. If you’ve been trying to control the animals that you see hanging around you, they could be the very ones that are already under someone else’s control, watching you.”

  “Just what animals have you been trying to control, Grifter?” Jerome said.

  “Oh, there’s a bunch of feral cats living in our courtyard,” Griffen said. “I’ve been trying to work with them, get them to come to me or something. Mostly, they just stare at me or ignore me completely.”