Poking his head in, Griffen did a quick scan of who all were there. Not seeing Slim, he started to leave, then took another look.
Sitting alone at a corner table was Tammy. The changeling was hunched over her drink, staring down into it while she idly played with the swizzle stick. While, like the other fey kids, she was normally high-energy and exuberant, just then she wasn’t looking happy at all.
Looking at her, Griffen wavered for a moment, then heaved a sigh. Pausing at the bar to gather up a drink of his own, he approached her table.
“Mind if I join you?” he said.
The changeling looked at him blankly, then gave a little shrug.
“I don’t know why you’d want to talk to me, but sure. Pull up a chair.”
Griffen studied her covertly as he sank into the indicated seat. He always thought of her as “the coltish one,” and the image still held. While she wasn’t all that tall, there was a lean, all-legs look about her that made one wonder what she would be like when she grew up, yet also left one feeling they were glad to have met her at this stage in her development. The look was accented by her outfit. She was wearing short shorts, which made her legs seem even longer, and a bare-midriff T-shirt that accented the soft flatness of her stomach. Topped by a long, slender neck and a pixie mop of blond hair, she was not unattractive at all.
He caught himself and forced his mind back to the issue at hand.
“Are you okay, Tammy?” he said. “It’s not really any of my business, but you seem a little down.”
The changeling gave a sigh.
“I really screwed things up with that demo,” she said, not meeting his eyes. “All the others are really pissed at me. They say I’ve made our whole group look bad at our first conclave. I don’t know. Maybe they’re right.”
She took a long pull on her drink, giving Griffen a chance to grope for something to say.
“I don’t think anyone has come off as well as they would like to, including me,” he said. “Except, maybe watzername, the tattoo and bird lady. She would be a tough act to follow for anyone.”
“Tell me about it,” Tammy said with a bitter laugh. “I was only going to do my partial tree change, but it would have looked so lame after her showstopper I tried to juice it a little with glamour.”
“That’s understandable,” Griffen said, soothingly. “It’s only natural to try to make a good impression. I really don’t think it’s such a big thing. To tell the truth, I didn’t even know that shape-shifting was one of the abilities you changelings have.”
“It isn’t, really.” Tammy grimaced. “A few of us can, but it’s not part of the standard package. That was part of the game plan. You aren’t alone in not knowing what we can or can’t do, even though for most of them it’s because they really don’t care. We’re supposed to be secretive and evasive about our powers, then show off some that people don’t expect . . . like the shape-shifting. It’s supposed to make people take us more seriously, or at least pique their curiosity.”
“Well, it worked for me,” Griffen said, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I, for one, am extremely curious about you.”
The changeling suddenly brightened as if someone had turned on a lightbulb inside her.
“Really?” she said. “You don’t know how much that means to me, Mr. . . . I mean, Griffen.”
She put a hand over his and pressed down hard, effectively pinning his hand in place.
“I mean, I’ve always wanted to meet a dragon, but since that first day . . . you’re nothing like what I expected.”
Every alarm in Griffen’s head was going off.
He had meant that he was curious about the changelings, but Tammy was obviously taking it personally. Moreover, her response was so enthusiastic there was no way he could see of correcting the impression without it sounding like a blunt rejection of her. Of course, he wasn’t all that disinterested in her.
“Um . . . Tammy . . .” he said.
“Oh, I know,” she interrupted. “I don’t expect you to feel the same way. Still, curiosity’s not a bad place to start.”
Still holding his hand, she shifted it from her shoulder to the middle of her chest.
Griffen was suddenly aware that there wasn’t a damn thing under that T-shirt except Tammy.
At that pivotal moment, Tail came into the bar with two of the other shape-shifters. Tammy saw him and let go of Griffen’s hand, recoiling as if she had been struck.
Too late.
Tail spotted them and approached their table with a huge smirk on his face.
“Well, now we know what it takes to get our moderator to spend time with you,” he declared in his gravelly voice. “Just phony up a demonstration, and you get his undivided attention.”
Griffen leaned back in his chair and stared levelly at the intruder.
“You know, Tail,” he said, “as moderator, I try real hard not to let my personal likes and dislikes show or affect how I conduct the conclave. Some people make it harder than others. For example, I was just telling Tammy here that I thought that your interrupting and embarrassing her during her demonstration was totally uncalled for and made you look worse than it did her.”
“Really?” Tail said, crossing his arms. “Well, I suppose it’s as good a line as any to try to get into someone’s pants. Is she gullible enough to believe you?”
Griffen waited several moments before answering.
“Tail,” he said finally, “is there any particular reason you’re trying to be offensive and pick a fight? I find it hard to believe this is your normal way of dealing with people.”
“This is pretty much it,” Tail said with a grin. “Of course, I get particularly ornery around phonies. Take you, for example. Everyone’s walking soft round you because you’re supposed to be a hot-shit dragon, but so far you haven’t shown me much. I notice you didn’t favor us with a shape-shifting demonstration.”
“Like I said at the opening ceremonies, I was invited here as a moderator, not a participant or demonstrator,” Griffen said, trying to keep a grip on his temper. “This whole conclave is supposed to be about the various groups that were invited in. Not an excuse to show off dragon powers.”
“Isn’t that convenient.” The shape-shifter sneered. “Well, this isn’t an official conclave gathering. Any reason why you can’t give us a little private demo of what you can do?”
Griffen glanced pointedly around the bar.
“Several reasons,” he said. “The first is there’s a conclave rule against showing our powers in public, which I figure I’m bound to follow. This also happens to be the town I live in, which gives me an extra reason to keep a low profile. And finally, I don’t use my powers unless it’s necessary, and I don’t do sideshows.”
“You know, McCandles, you remind me of a good old boy back home,” Tail said. “He keeps sayin’ he doesn’t want to fight ’cause he’s afraid of hurtin’ someone. The fact that he doesn’t really know how to fight and is really afraid of gettin’ hurt himself doesn’t have anything to do with it.”
Griffen pursed his lips, then leaned forward, putting both his hands on the table.
“Tell me something, Tail,” he said. “When one of the loup garou changes, exactly how hard are those claws he grows?”
“Hard enough to rip up most any critter you know of.” Tail smiled. “Why do you ask?”
“Just wondered,” Griffen said, smiling back as he leaned back in his chair.
Tail looked at him for a minute.
“I don’t get it,” he said, finally. “What was that supposed to do?”
“Take a close look at the table,” Griffen said, giving a slight nod with his head.
Tail bent over and examined the cocktail table, his companions peering over his shoulder and Tammy craning her neck to see.
There were now ten holes in the Formica surface of the table, placed in two half circles where Griffen had rested his hands. The holes went all the way though the table and were wide
enough they could see the floor through them.
“A word to the wise, Tail,” Griffen said softly. “Don’t fuck with me or any other dragon. When we get mad . . . even if we just get annoyed . . . we play for keeps. Now, I believe the door is that way.”
He turned his head and blew a smoke ring in the direction of the door.
The shape-shifters left without saying anything else.
Thirty-nine
Griffen was irritated. It took him some time to realize just why, but as the conclave wore on, he found his mood steadily declining. Not so much during the meetings and demonstrations, but after. During times and periods that should have been social.
He realized that the clique mentality of it all was what was getting to him. With little exception, like stayed with like. Each of the groups fractured into smaller groups, and little clusters wandered around the French Quarter, never mingling. Even if two different groups found the same bar, they would sit at opposite sides.
Only at conclave-sponsored events did any serious degree of mingling take place. The first that Griffen attended was a sponsored breakfast at Café Du Monde. He suspected that even then, most just showed up because someone else was picking up the bill. He had only shown up to make sure it wasn’t him.
Even then, it tended to be the lesser members of the various groups who showed up. The speakers and leaders seemed to avoid each other at all times. This was what was getting on Griffen’s nerves, considering that the whole function of this mess was, supposedly, to create understanding between groups. The hypocrisy was driving him crazy.
So he was pleasantly surprised to stumble upon a few of the major players sitting around a low table in the hotel lobby. He was further surprised by the cards in their hands and the piles of chips on the table.
A bit nervously he eyed the drinks as well, knowing that most bars clamped down on any gambling, but technically they were in the lobby. Someone must have been running drink orders to the bar. Either no one cared that they were playing cards, or someone had used their powers to keep the game from being bothered. Griffen knew he was simply happier not asking which was true.
Besides, he would never miss out on an opportunity to watch the group interact. Kane, Tink, and Tail he had some experience with, not all of it pleasant. The animal-control woman from Wyoming, Margie, was also playing. Next to her was Lowell. Two shifters, a fairy, a vampire, and a shaman. Playing poker. Oh yeah, no way Griffen was going to miss this.
He leaned against the nearest wall watching the hand. There was a certain amount of the cutthroat camaraderie that went on around most informal games. A bit of banter and conversation, most of it attempts to distract or gauge the other players. Griffen realized he played less now, despite running a gambling ring, than he had in college. Which was too bad, since he loved to play. Just watching one hand, he felt he knew more about these people than he had picked up in a half dozen encounters.
He was seriously considering stepping up to the game when Tail looked up and caught his eye.
“Do somethin’ for you, McCandles?” Tail asked.
“Just watching the game,” Griffen said.
Tail snorted, a disgusted sound that matched his souring expression. The others at the table watched the two closely. By now, everyone had heard about the incident between them.
“Just watching, not playing?”
It didn’t take a dragon, or a card shark, to figure out Tail’s motivations. He had backed down from Griffen, or at least that was what the rumor mill had turned the bar incident into. This was a chance to try to gain some face or make Griffen lose some.
If it had just been Tail, it wouldn’t have been a problem. Unfortunately, the loup garou Kane piped up in his mixed accent.
“ ’Eard me dis dragon he one serious cardplayer. Don’ know I wan’ him in dis here game.”
Tail turned his attention to the garou. If anything, his expression grew worse, almost a sneer.
“Wouldn’t worry about that. I don’t think ‘dis’ dragon is about to lower himself and play with our sort.”
The garou blinked as he considered that. His eyes narrowed a bit as he looked at Griffen.
“Dat changes tings some. You no play ’cause you too good for de game? Or de company?” Kane challenged.
For a moment, Griffen considered how to respond, knowing that a moment might be too long. Like at the poker table, any hesitation was a tell. Of weakness, of deceit, of anything. As fast on his feet as he was, he wasn’t sure he had an answer that would satisfy both of the shifters.
Then again, there were more players in this game than three.
“Now, isn’t that fascinating,” Lowell said. “ A garou agreeing with another type of shifter. I’m amazed one of you isn’t trying to mark territory on the other’s leg.”
Tail glared, but Kane threw out a bark of laughter. Short, sharp, loud. “Bark” was definitely the word.
“Good point dere, vampy. Still, what is said can no be took back. You tink you betta den us or no, dragon?” Kane said.
“Honestly, how could I know? I haven’t really gotten a chance to know any of you,” Griffen said.
“Den sit down and play dem cards, boy! Dat de best way to know people.”
“Yes, Mr. McCandles,” Margie said, “Solve it all neatly and sit. I for one would like some new blood at the table. These four have grown far too predictable.”
Griffen surrendered to the inevitable and sat. Once already a comment had been made, offhandedly, about the animal-control specialist having excellent judgment. It did seem the best way to settle things. He also noticed that her stack of chips was higher than the others’.
Griffen acquired some chips, and the next hand was dealt. He kept one eye on the table, and one firmly on Tail. Griffen didn’t know what Tail had expected from this conversation, but it was clear he wasn’t happy. He glared at his cards and muttered in a voice just loud enough for the others to hear.
“Figures he would be coddled up to by the human.”
Margie stiffened, and the rest of the players went still. Even Tink, whom Griffen thought of as fairly laid-back, had gone rigid. His eyes were wide, shocked. Kane was growling low in the back of his throat.
“That was uncalled for,” Lowell said.
“Low. Real low,” Kane said.
“It’s not my fault if she wants to suck up to the dragon,” Tail said.
Several of the others spoke at once, all angry.
“What business is it of yours?” from Kane.
“She wasn’t sucking up to anyone,” said Tink.
“How dare you imply—” started Margie.
“HOLD IT!”
Griffen hadn’t moved a muscle, but his voice was hard and loud enough to cut through the rest. Everyone looked at him, and he slowly, carefully considered Tail.
“What do you mean ‘human’?” Griffen asked.
The others looked about uncomfortably; it was Margie who answered.
“Those who are magic see those who simply do magic as less. Humans playing with things they don’t understand,” she said.
“But what you do, call it magic or not, it is natural to you, isn’t it?” Griffen said.
“De hoodoos, animal control, dey borderline. You notice we don’ got no vodoun or wicca at the table,” Kane said.
“Spell slingers are seen as lesser. Only the truly powerful ones are respected enough to even be invited to a conclave such as this,” Lowell said.
“So when Tail called her human, he was calling her second-class. One who didn’t belong?” Griffen asked.
The others nodded. Griffen ran that over in his head several times, but it was a slippery concept. To give himself a bit more thinking room, he asked the obvious follow-up question.
“Then how do you all feel about normal, mundane humans?”
If anything, everyone seemed even more uncomfortable. Tail had lost most of his angry look and now seemed merely embarrassed. Griffen hoped he regretted his comments. Marg
ie spoke first again, perhaps because of the accusation.
“Feelings are mixed of course. But definitely less. They are so limited, and so arrogant with it. Thinking they are so much, when they do so little. And so much of what they do is harmful to themselves and everyone else,” she said.
“Ignorant and proud of it,” Kane said.
“Blind,” Tink said, his voice so sad that Griffen was sure he was dwelling on some specific memory.
“Individuals can be respected. Individuals are capable of great glory, love, miracles. But as a whole . . . sometimes . . .” Margie said.
“What?” asked Griffen.
“I hate them,” she finished, and hung her head slightly.
Griffen cranked the turrets around and focused again on Tail. Griffen would have to consider what they had all said, but later. These were heavy concepts, but it was obvious that Tail had meant harm with his words. That had to be addressed now and not allowed to pass.
Besides, he had finally figured out what to say.
“You seem to have a bad habit of insulting women when I’m around. So are you jealous of me . . . or of them?”
“What are you implyin’?” Tail said, angry again.
“Nothing, nothing at all,” Griffen said.
His tone was full of false innocence, and no one at the table missed it. Margie looked up again, and Kane sniggered. Before Tail could respond, Griffen continued.
“But you should know that it takes more than this to get under my skin. You are just making an ass of yourself in front of everyone. Good thing Jay is your speaker, or you might be reflecting on all the other shifters.”
“ ’Cept us,” Kane said smugly.
“I—” Tail started.
“You are being an ass,” Lowell said, though surprisingly gently.
Tail stopped and looked around the table. He looked at Margie. For the most part she had remained calm, stiff but collected. He took in a long, slow breath.
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