“I didn’t tell her anything,” the bartender said. “She came in an hour ago and ordered a white wine, then said that when Griffen came in, she’d buy the first round for him and anyone he was with. I assumed she was someone you knew. Why? Is something wrong?”
“Oh, we know her all right,” Griffen said. “I just didn’t expect to see her here.”
He glanced over at the table again, and made eye contact this time. The woman waved gaily and beckoned him over.
He gathered up his drink.
“Well,” he sighed, “I might as well find out what she wants.”
He picked his way through the crowd, pausing for a moment to let someone complete their shot on the pool table, then pulled up a chair at the woman’s table.
“Long time, no see, Mai,” he said. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Watching them shoot pool,” Mai said easily. “Some of these shooters are really good. You got a piece of this action?”
“It’s a pool league,” Griffen said. “They’re shooting for trophies…and you haven’t answered the question. What are you doing here? Don’t try to kid me that you came all the way to New Orleans to watch the locals shoot pool.”
Mai cocked her head like a bird and looked at him.
“Isn’t it obvious?” she said. “I came down here to see you.”
“Right,” Griffen said with a grimace. “Just like old times. If I recall correctly, though, the last time we saw each other you walked out on me in the middle of dinner.”
“Sorry about that,” Mai said, wrinkling her nose. “I had to report in that you not only had been brought on board with your dragon heritage, but that you suspected that I knew more about dragons than I had let on.”
“So now you admit it,” Griffen said.
“Of course.” She shrugged. “Now that you’ve had some time to get used to the idea and to settle in down here, I thought I’d drop in and say ‘Hi.’”
“That’s all? Just say ‘Hi’?” Griffen pressed.
“Don’t be silly,” Mai said. “I’m supposed to do what I was doing before. Keep an eye on you for the Eastern dragons…like Jerome was doing for Mose.”
“I see,” Griffen said. “And now that I know you know, and you know I know you know, I’m supposed to just ignore all that and let you hang around as a self-admitted spy?”
Mai reached across the table and took hold of his hand.
“Don’t be like that, lover,” she said. “That’s only what the Eastern dragons think I’m doing. I’ve got my own agenda this time around.”
“And what would that be?”
She sighed and pursed her lips.
“Well, I was going to work up to this slowly,” she said, “but since you’ve asked I might as well cut to the chase. In a nutshell, there’s a faction of the Eastern dragons, specifically the young ones, who want to throw their support behind you. I’m here as their spokesperson to approach you and see if we can work something out.”
Griffen leaned back in his chair and stared at her. Suddenly, the noise of the pool matches seemed far away.
“I…I don’t know what to say, Mai,” he managed at last. “That’s something that had never even occurred to me. I’d have to hear a lot more about what it entailed before I could even start thinking about it.”
“Of course,” Mai said. “In the meantime, though, I have a present for you. Call it a token of goodwill.”
She rummaged in her purse for a moment, then produced a small notebook, which she shoved across the table to Griffen.
“You know how Asians love to gamble?” she said. “Well, here’s a list of local Asians who run various gambling concerns. After I talked to them, they all want to sign on with your organization.”
Griffen blinked at her.
“What exactly are they expecting from me?”
“Just to be included in your network,” she said. “They want to use your spotters to steer tourists into their games…and maybe get included in the police protection you’ve set up. In return, you get a percentage of their action.”
Griffen felt a quick spike of greed. If Mai’s offer was legitimate, then not only would it mean some major monies for the operation’s coffers, it would be a feather in his cap for bringing the new games on board.
“Am I expected to help run their operations?” he said carefully. “I mean, I’ve heard of mah-jongg and fan-tan and pai gow, but I don’t have the foggiest idea of how they’re played.”
“I can teach you enough for you to get by,” Mai said, laying her hand on his arm. “It’ll be fun.”
“Hi, lover.”
Fox Lisa was suddenly standing there. Though she spoke to Griffen, her eyes were locked on Mai.
“Who’s the fortune cookie?”
Griffen rose to his feet, shedding Mai’s hand as he stood.
“Mai, this is Fox Lisa,” he said. “Lisa, this is Mai, an old friend of mine from college.”
“With the emphasis on the ‘old,’” Lisa said, baring her teeth at Mai.
Mai flowed to her feet. To Griffen, it almost looked like a cobra raising its head and spreading its hood. Even though Mai was a full head shorter than Fox Lisa, she suddenly looked larger.
“With the emphasis on the ‘we’ve been lovers for a long time,’” she corrected. “Little girl, you don’t really want to go sideways to me. I don’t mind sharing once in a while…and that could be fun, too…but nobody takes from me. You may have a bit of the blood in you, but you aren’t dragon enough to go head-to-head with me.”
“How about me?” Valerie was suddenly there, looking at Mai over Lisa’s head. “Am I dragon enough to qualify?”
“You must be the sister,” Mai said with a smile. “You I’ve been looking forward to meeting.”
A hand fell on Griffen’s shoulder, pulling him backward. It was Jerome.
“I need to talk to you, Grifter,” he said. “Now!”
“But…” Griffen gestured weakly at the three women, but they didn’t even spare him a glance.
“Now!” Jerome repeated, leading Griffen the few steps to the bar.
“What is it?” Griffen said, craning his neck to try to watch the confrontation.
The three women were seated now. Mai and Valerie were maintaining an erect posture, eyes locked. Fox Lisa was leaning forward, speaking rapidly.
“Remember what I told you way back when about female dragons?” Jerome said, stepping to block the line of sight. “Well, believe me, Young Dragon, you do not want to be in the middle of that right now.”
“Uh-huh.” Griffen said absently.
“Damn it. Pay attention!” Jerome snapped. “Think of the Chicago fire. The San Francisco earthquake.”
“Yeah. So?”
“So bad things happen when female dragons get together and start quarreling.” Jerome said. “In fact, there’s only one thing I can think of that’s worse.”
There was a sudden burst of laughter, and both men turned to look. The three women were sitting with their heads together now, grinning and giggling like schoolgirls.
“Don’t tell me,” Griffen said. “Let me guess.”
“Got it in one,” Jerome said with a sigh. “The only thing worse than female dragons quarreling is when they get together and really hit it off.”
Forty-six
Griffen had started to make semiregular visits to Mose. Part of it was updates and planning sessions for the organization. Griffen had free rein for the most part, but he also had the sense to use Mose as an experienced mentor and sounding board. Besides, it was expected that they should meet, a sign of respect. Somehow the Quarter rumor mill always seemed to know when Griffen had passed through Mose’s gates, though never any hint of what was discussed inside.
The other part of these meetings was further training and learning about just what it was to be a dragon. After all these weeks, Griffen still had more questions than answers. Though Mose claimed not to have all the answers the young dragon would nee
d, he certainly had more than the young man had. In fact, it didn’t hurt to have Mose around just while Griffen practiced on his own. The older man knew what signs of progress or problems to look for.
Today Griffen seemed more preoccupied than most. Mose had to keep repeating himself to get his attention. It was as if something had been nagging at Griffen, and he just didn’t know how to put it into words.
“So just spill it already,” Mose said.
“Huh?”
Griffen shook his head and realized that Mose had been giving him a piercing gaze for about five minutes. He flushed a bit and shook his head.
“What do you mean, Mose?”
“Well, something sure has you distracted today. New gal in your life?”
“Old one come back again…but no, that’s not quite it.”
“So why don’t you tell me what it is, so we can stop wasting both our time. I swear you haven’t heard half what I’ve said since you came in.”
“You’d probably be right. Okay, Mose. Tell me about glamour.”
It was Mose’s turn to say “huh” and give Griffen another hard look. He gathered his thoughts carefully.
“That’s some random train of thought you’ve got, Grifter. Before I start, though, I’ve got to ask, who you thinking of putting the glamour on?”
“What? No no no, other way around maybe. How do you tell if it’s being done? How do you counter it? That sort of thing.”
“Ah…Well, damn, son, if it will set your mind at ease, I can see right off that no one’s got a glamour on you.”
“You can see it?”
“Yes and no, you can see the change in the person, maybe something in the eye. The heavier it’s been laid, the longer it lasts, the more you can see the signs.”
“Okay, this is a good start. But, Mose, it wasn’t me I was worried about.”
“Damn, that might change things. Okay, let’s start with the basics. What do you know or think you know about glamour?”
“Nothing really. It’s only been mentioned in passing, I’m honestly surprised I remembered the name. From what I can tell, it’s something between supercharisma and the Jedi mind trick.”
“Okay, give me a moment, this isn’t going to be easy.”
Mose leaned back in his chair and half closed his eyes in thought. Every once in a while his lips would purse, as if he were trying on a word for fit. Griffen watched, his curiosity growing. None of his questions so far had required quite this level of thought. He wondered why this one topic was so different.
“Glamour is a tricksie thing,” Mose said finally.
“Tricksie?” Griffen couldn’t help himself.
“Back off, we’re talking about glamour for crying out loud. Just be glad I’m not going to bring elves and fairies into the damn mix.”
“Good…I don’t think I want to know.”
“Me neither. And that’s part of the problem. I don’t do glamour; I don’t know many who do. It’s not anything as simple as your growing scales or fire breathing.”
“Simple?”
Griffen didn’t try to keep the irony and sarcasm out of his tone. His experience with such powers had been all involuntarily, and down right awkward. Hearing it referred to as simple added to his frustration. Mose narrowed his eyes.
“Yeah, simple. Look, things like that, it doesn’t matter much how it happens. As long as you know how to trigger it. Like your muscles, does it matter the chemical exchange that makes one tighten and another loosen so your arm bends? Not really, as long as you can bend your arm at will, and instinctually if in danger.”
“And glamour is different?”
“Yeah, it is. There are a handful of powers out there…well, that doesn’t matter just now. Glamour is all about perception. Part of it is the dragon’s natural charisma. But that becomes augmented, and just how depends on the person who’s doing it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, to be blunt, I don’t think I could teach you glamour if I tried, I’m not even sure you could manage it. Because part of it is a lie to the victim, but another part is lying to yourself. And lying to yourself on purpose is a tricky business. You have to believe what you are making them believe, but, of course, a part of you knows it’s just the magic. You can see the pitfalls in that?”
“I think I need a drink; I almost understood that.”
“Yeah, pour us both one. And remember, this ain’t exactly my area. I’m passing on thirdhand knowledge at best.”
Griffen got up and poured the drinks. As he passed one to Mose, he raised his in silent toast and they both drank. Griffen sighed as he sat back in the chair.
“I would never have believed I’d run into something that made fire breathing seem simple,” he said.
“You’re still young; you’ll run into a lot more,” Mose said. “In the oldest legends glamour and illusion were almost the same. One could be made to see monsters and nightmares and all sorts of things. Though I haven’t heard of anything like that in the modern world, so it’s probably just myth.”
“Okay, this is all very confusing. Let’s get back to basics; how can you counter it? Does just knowing it is happening act as defense? Or does it take more.”
“Knowing what’s going on helps, and can keep you protected against casual leakage. But against a direct attack, it takes a bit more. Glamour of your own is the best. But really all you need is an exertion of will to reassert your personal perspective.”
“Which is done how?”
“Well, for you, you could probably just think hard. But actually this is where some of the old legends about counter curses and protective charms pop up from. You can use an object, some words, or even a hand gesture to focus your will behind. A physical reminder of what you are doing.”
“Oh, great, psychic cue cards.”
“Something like that. Also, if you are real good, with the physical aide you can disrupt them entirely. Their own lie falters, so if they are spreading their attention and affecting a room a little push from you can free the whole group. But it’s harder if they are just focused on one individual.”
“Could glamour be used to force someone to kill another?”
“Not that I know of, at least not if that killing goes against the person’s deepest nature. Again, the old legends…well, you might trick someone into thinking the person they were killing was someone or something else. Still, I think that’s pure myth, though.”
“I’m finding this real hard to believe,” Griffen said.
“But it fits what you’ve already suspected,” Mose said.
“Yeah. Yeah, it does. I think Valerie’s taken up with someone who’s more than he seems.”
“Huh, well, maybe I could take a look at her; see if she’s under a ’fluence.”
“From what you’ve said, only a few people have serious talent at this, even in dragon circles. Any idea who might be targeting Valerie?”
“Too early to say, I might know better when I see her. It’s such a style thing that if I’ve seen their work before I’ll recognize it.”
“And can I use my will to break her hold?”
“Yes and no, you can help, but with a dragon of her stature, you will also have to teach her how to break it. As soon as it comes from within, everything that he has laid on her should crumble like a badly made house of cards.”
“Good.”
“One more thing, Griffen, and this is purely from what I’ve heard. If I had a guess, touch would amplify it. Don’t ask why, pheromones directly, a direct channel to the psyche, I don’t know. But keep your guard up. Story goes, when two glamour users touch and go to war, the effects on the loser are devastating.”
“How devastating?”
“Well, the loser is pretty much stripped of his will, and the winner’s own is imposed directly.”
Mose paused and sipped his drink, and a small tremor ran through his body. If Griffen didn’t know any better, he would have thought the man was afraid.
“This here being New Orleans. Ever heard of zombies?”
Forty-seven
It was Monday night. Actually, it was twelve thirty in the morning on Tuesday, but by Quarter reckoning that was still Monday. As was becoming his habit on Mondays when there wasn’t a game on the schedule, Griffen set aside the night to watch a movie or three on DVD.
The reason for this was simplicity itself. Officially, new DVDs were released nationally every Tuesday. The Quarter, being the Quarter and fiercely competitive for every dollar, had devised a way around this rule. Both the major multimedia stores in the Quarter, Tower and Virgin, stayed open until one in the morning on Mondays, allowing them to sell the new releases to the late-night Quarterites that didn’t want to wait until the next day.
Griffen had done his shopping this week at Tower. Even though it was a couple blocks farther from his complex than Virgin, they often had better prices. There was also a better selection of the old movies that he traditionally favored.
Walking along the riverside of Decatur Street, he mentally reviewed his selections with no small degree of self-satisfaction. Of particular pleasure was finding the old Danny Kaye movie, The Five Pennies, on DVD. Ever since stopping in to listen to Steamboat Willie and his band play in an open-air bar on Bourbon Street, Griffen had been slightly nostalgic for the old big-band sound, and this movie about Red Nichols was just the thing to satisfy that craving.
As he walked, however, he slowly became aware that someone was behind him. Whoever it was neither fell back nor closed the distance, but seemed content to match his pace. That in itself was noteworthy, since, as a transplanted Northerner, Griffen tended to walk faster than most of the leisurely strollers in the Quarter.
His recent experiences had made him wary, so he decided to try one of the techniques Padre had coached him on to check a tail. Pausing in midstride, he set down his bag of DVDs and stooped down, loosening and retying his shoelace. The follower didn’t stop, closing the gap between them. Reclaiming his purchases, Griffen straightened and looked back. The approaching figure was instantly recognizable.
“Hey, Slim,” he said. “How’s it going?”
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