Dragons Luck gm-2

by Robert Asprin

  “Yeah, and he didn’t see it coming. Can’t believe you haven’t heard that one before,” Mai said.

  “Well, you never told me, and I don’t spend much time with Lisa.”

  “And Griffen?”

  “Brothers!” Val rolled her eyes. “He’s all about sticking his overprotective nose in my love life. But as soon as I turn it around, he gets embarrassed and shrugs me off. Big baby.”

  Mai chuckled, but her eyes narrowed a bit, and her tone went just a touch sly.

  “So… about your love life.”

  “What about it?” Val said, expression faltering.

  “Oh, so you can shrug it off, too? Maybe it’s not a brother trait after all but a McCandles one.”

  Val looked at her surroundings. Most of the shops they had visited were big on personal attention, pampering that usually wasn’t found in these mall-filled consumer days. Unfortunately, that meant there was a shopgirl pretending not to eavesdrop a few feet away. Mai watched her gather up her bags.

  “Come on. If we are going to dish, I’m going to need something hot and bad for me,” Val said.

  “Sounds like your love life, all right,” Mai said.

  Val glared at her, a very unfriendly look, and Mai waved to the shopkeeper as they headed back out to the street. Mai followed, though she had pretty much figured they were headed to Café Du Monde and Val’s favorite sweet vices.

  “I wasn’t shrugging it off,” Val said.

  Mai fell into step next to her and a little behind. She glanced at Val and cocked her head.

  “If you say so.”

  “What I meant was that there isn’t anything to discuss. Cold turkey,” Val said.

  “Mmm, from what I hear it wasn’t too long ago you were seen knocking on Gris-gris’s door. And that sounded like anything but cold.”

  Mai had to stop and turn around. Val had stopped in her tracks. Mai shrugged.

  “It’s the Quarter. Word gets around.”

  “Heard from who, Mai?” Val said.

  “Not Gris-gris, if that’s what you mean. Doubt he told anyone who didn’t ask him directly. It was third-person by the time it got to me. Remember”—Mai darkened her expression and her tone—“the Lucky Dog vendors see all.”

  Val shook her head and started walking again. Mai had expected at least a laugh from her but didn’t push it. After half a block of silence, Val spoke up.

  “So what did it sound like, then?”

  “What?”

  “If not cold turkey, then…”

  “Oh. Aggressive. That was the word I liked best. ‘Aggressive, ’ ” Mai said.

  She could practically see Val rolling the word over her tongue, testing it out.

  “Yeah, that sounds about right,” Val said finally.

  “And since then?”

  Mai watched Val weigh exactly how much to say. Val simply didn’t have enough practice at disguising her true feelings, and Mai had practiced reading people longer than Val had been alive. Though Mai wouldn’t kid herself; she knew her friend had more powerful blood. Still, experience beats power.

  “Nothing… Well, not much. I sort of got invited to this masked ball,” Val said.

  Mai grinned, that sounded promising.

  “By who?”

  “George.”

  This time Mai stopped in her tracks, and for all her inscrutable behavior, felt her jaw drop. Val kept walking, and Mai realized belatedly that her friend had dropped that bombshell with expert precision. By the time she caught up, Val’s grin was wide enough to make the cat with a canary blush through his fur.

  “Bitch,” Mai muttered.

  “Yep. You had it coming,” Val said.

  “How could I not hear about this?”

  “You don’t know everything that is going on in the world? Gasp, shock, better turn in your junior decoder ring. You’re a has-been.”

  Mai thought sourly that Val was definitely enjoying this far too much. Also, that her gibes were hitting a bit too close to home. Her face gave away too much, and she saw Val back-pedal a bit mentally.

  “Relax. The only ones there were Griffen, George, and me. I doubted that George would be blabbing it about, and Griffen…”

  “Has had his head up his ass lately,” Mai said.

  “Well, up the conclave anyway, which smells about the same.”

  By now the two had crossed Jackson Square and were settling into chairs at the Cafe. Unlike the shops, Café Du Monde was a wonderful place to talk semiprivately. The waiters were quick, and cash was collected as soon as the food arrived, and then they vanished to serve others and never appeared till it was time to clear dishes.

  Mai was a coffee girl, Val hot chocolate. That said much about them. They both had an order of beignets, with an extra order to split.

  “Okay, so talk to me, girlfriend. Why would you date George after he nearly killed your brother?”

  Mai had to remind herself that other than rumor and the story of Griffen’s confrontation with the dragon hunter, she was not supposed to know George. Certainly not on any personal or professional level.

  “Mainly I think he did it to get on Griffen’s nerves. I won’t flatter myself to think he really is doing it because he is interested in me or apologetic over bashing my head in at our last meeting.”

  “Especially not after you emptied a shotgun into him,” Mai said innocently.

  “Exactly.”

  Val smiled slyly and sipped her hot chocolate. Maybe, Mai thought, she wasn’t so amateurish in controlling her expression after all.

  “Of course, you stated why he might want to ask you along to the dance, not why you would accept,” Mai said, just as innocently.

  “I have my reasons,” Val said.

  Here was the real crux. Mai had been noticing changes in Val that could not be explained by her pregnancy. At least not in such early stages. Though it might cost what little she’d gained, she felt she had to press on.

  “Reasons you don’t want to share, even with me. Come on, Big Butt. You’ve been stressing over something for a while now. Something that has you working out three times as hard as you ever have since I met you. Isn’t it about time you shared with someone?”

  Mai waited on pins and needles. She had spent her arrow and had no idea whether it would hit its mark. As inconsequential as this conversation might be, she felt more exhilarated than she had in months.

  “I was attacked,” Val said quietly.

  Bull’s-eye.

  Mai silently ran over possibilities in her mind.

  “If you had simply been mugged, it wouldn’t have mattered. You would have wiped the floor with them. What do you mean, attacked?”

  “Tell me, Mai. You obviously knew Nathaniel. Did… does he have any sisters?”

  Pieces fell together with a clack. Mai didn’t like how they added up.

  “A few, only one of whom I can think of who might do you harm.”

  “Lizzy?”

  Mai’s train of thought reached an exploding bridge of a conclusion. She almost shuddered thinking of Lizzy meeting Val. As composed as she was, she couldn’t help her reactions.

  “God, you are lucky to be alive,” Mai said.

  Val looked at her for a long moment, and whatever she saw seemed to reassure her. She nodded, and bit into another beignet.

  “So,” Val said, “you see why I might want to accept the acquaintance of a professional dragon hunter.”

  It was a statement, not a question. Still, Mai found herself trapped between two roles, two faces. She knew what she would do as a manipulator and what she would do as a friend. They were not the same course of action. And the conflict, as deep and sharp a conflict as she had felt in years, had only one resolution.

  She had to try to be a friend.

  “So call him, dummy,” Mai said, and hoped Val wouldn’t hear her reluctance.

  “What do you mean?” Val said.

  “Surely he gave you a way to contact him. You aren’t the type to let
a man, any man, defend you. Why the hell aren’t you on the horn with him asking for advice. Tips. Training?”

  Val looked at Mai for another long moment. Without responding, she reached down and pulled out her cell phone. A few numbers later, she was speaking into it.

  “George?” Val said.

  Mai focused on her ears, extending her senses in a way that few nondragons could.

  “Ms. McCandles,” George said on the other end. “Called to make arrangements?”

  “Perhaps, but not for the date. We need to meet, George. Someplace big, someplace open. Someplace without witnesses,” Val said.

  There was a long pause on the other end of the phone.

  “Is this a challenge? A fight?” George said.

  “Something like that, only we should both walk away after. If you want a date, Georgey boy, you are going to damn well earn one,” Val said.

  Mai could just make out George’s low chuckle on the other end of the line.

  “Oh, really. Very well. I will call you back with a time and place. And soon, because you have intrigued me, Ms. McCandles.”

  “Valerie,” Val said, as automatically as her brother would have said “Griffen,” “and good. I will expect your call.”

  Valerie closed the phone, and when her eyes met Mai’s, they were filled with uncertainty. Uncertainty that grew when she saw a bit of answering insecurity in Mai’s eyes.

  “What? That seemed right,” Val said.

  “It was,” Mai answered. “I am just realizing. With everything going on… I am going to have to secure my own invitation to this damn ball.”

  Thirty-five

  “How could you be so stupid?”

  Flynn dug his fingers into his thigh, pain helping control his temper. It was that or crush the flimsy cell phone in his hand, and he didn’t have the time or energy to replace it. Years of practice meant he did not start to grow scales or claws or anything similar, yet the impulse was close.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” a thin, contrite voice said on the other end.

  “Do you have any idea what that will cost me in the long run? That no-talent hack could have been president one day! And you let him sign on with another firm,” Flynn said.

  “But, sir, you said he wasn’t important. That your project there was far more valuable, and I should just handle it as best I could.”

  “I had assumed your best wasn’t quite so inadequate. Why did I ever let your mother talk me into hiring you?” Flynn said.

  “Because it was the only way you could get her to sign a nudity clause in her contract, sir, and you owed the studio head.”

  “Yes, well, her career has been over for a year. So your career is over now. I’m calling security next to make sure you clean out your desk without any fuss.”

  Flynn disconnected, cutting off any further protests from the lackey on the other end. If he admitted the truth to himself, he should never have let the kid handle such a job. He just hadn’t thought the actor in question bright enough to jump on his current absence. Still, he had to set an example. Besides, he was still disappointed over the low box-office returns off his mother.

  “Hey, Flynn, mind if I join you?”

  He looked up, surprised to see Griffen McCandles leaning over the railing that surrounded the tables at the Café Du Monde. He smiled, openly to Griffen, inwardly to himself. The folly back at the office aside, the deal he was working on certainly did have the potential to be great. More important, since Mai’s little encounter, it was proving to be more and more intriguing.

  It was a good thing, to be able to enjoy one’s work.

  “Sure, Griffen, come on over and order something. Excuse me, though, while I finish up a little business.”

  Griffen nodded and moved around the railing and into the Cafe proper. Flynn dialed his office number, and the extension to on-site security. If the son was anything like his mother, he would throw a temper tantrum before leaving.

  “This is Flynn,” he said, as the line was picked up. “I’ve fired Bradley… Yes, that’s the one. Let him make some fuss, draw some attention, then put him out on his ass… Yes, that’s right, he’s the example of the year… Good. I’ll call back for a report later.”

  He hung up and noticed Griffen looking at him a little oddly. He didn’t think the young dragon could pick up on his tension, his anger over the whole issue. Minor though it was. After a few quick thoughts, he decided to probe the issue.

  “Never fired anyone?” Flynn asked.

  “Not directly, no; when I first got started, I set some policy. Made people make a choice, but there weren’t any big issues with the organization itself. Just some of those connected on the periphery,” Griffen said.

  “Well, sometimes it’s necessary. Particularly if someone messes up badly.”

  “What, no second chances?”

  Flynn picked up his coffee and sipped, letting the bitterness roll over his tongue. He was more in the mood for that than the too-sweet beignets so popular here.

  “Sometimes, depends on whether you judge a second chance will do any good. Sometimes you’ve got to know when to cut your losses. More important, you have to remember, as head of an organization, that punishing one person harshly helps keep many more from repeating their mistakes. Or committing worse ones.”

  Griffen’s own drink and a plate of beignets came, and he reached for the confection first. Flynn watched him carefully as he bit into the corner, and a small cloud of powdered sugar rose. He seemed thoughtful, even moody. Or was Flynn projecting his own feelings on him?

  “Tell me more about this policy you set and why you set it. Was it for your good or your people’s?” Flynn asked.

  “I’d like to think both. I think you’ve heard something about the aftermath, but I decided my people either dealt drugs or worked for me. Not both. I didn’t want such a dangerous and messy business ruining the lives of those around me.”

  “Sounds like a good decision though made more from a moral ground than thinking of the business itself.”

  “Pretty much. Same reason I’m sorry to say I can’t take your advice on using the local druggies as security. It’s just too much like going back on my own word.”

  Flynn nearly bit his tongue and had to keep from spitting out his coffee.

  “What? After trying to help, you throw it back at me?”

  “No, no, it’s nothing like that. It’s just—”

  “It’s that bitch Mai, isn’t it?”

  Flynn regretted the outburst as soon as he said it. Yes, he had been heavy-handed with some of his advice to Griffen, but never casually. This was the first move he had made that had not been at all premeditated. He saw Griffen lean back, his eyes narrowing.

  “No… in fact Mai has never mentioned you at all. Where do you know her from?”

  Of course, Mai wouldn’t mention him directly. She would use a cat’s-paw, if she were involved with this aspect of the game at all. Flynn cursed silently but didn’t let a moment’s hesitation show as he gave Griffen lies in the form of half-truths.

  “I know her family, and her since she was little. She has never liked me, or liked my ways, I might say.”

  “What ways would those be?”

  “Mai has never been good at full honesty, at openness. Her nature is much more subtle.”

  True, Flynn thought, every word of it. Not telling him anything, or even coming close to answering his question, but it should be enough.

  “Well, I can’t debate that. I don’t really know how much she hides.”

  “Well, if I may… just how old do you think she is?” Flynn said.

  “Good point. I knew her in school, but that’s also where I met Jerome. And I know he is a lot older than he pretended.”

  “Griffen, maybe I’m speaking out of turn, but it’s my feeling you should know what you can about your allies. As far as I know, Mai is older than Jerome.”

  “Still, Flynn, I just don’t think dealing with the local gangs is the way to go.
They just don’t seem prepared to do anything but shoot at people.”

  Flynn shrugged and kept the relief off his face. Two steps back, one forward. He rolled with Griffen’s change of subject.

  “What about my other idea, some form of tracking?”

  “It sounds good… but how would I pull it off? Somehow I don’t think I can convince them to walk around with transmitters in their pockets.”

  Flynn cocked his head and reached out. His fingers brushed a set of small black and red beads woven around Griffen’s neck.

  “The person who made these should be able to make similar. For one good at such crafting, it should be child’s play.”

  “Really?”

  Griffen took the beads off and ran them through his fingers. Flynn nodded and kept his smile easy and warm.

  “Look, Griffen, forgive me for snapping. Tough day at the office, even though I’m not there. Actually, I kind of miss being there.”

  “I do appreciate the time and advice, Flynn, it’s just I have to follow my own gut, too.”

  “Sure you do, that’s what makes you a dragon. No harm, no foul.”

  Griffen nodded and put the necklace back on. He reached for his wallet, but Flynn waved him off. Soon he was watching the young man walk off across the square.

  He picked up his cell phone. Still seething, and needing someone to vent his anger on.

  “Security? Flynn. I’ve changed my mind. If he throws a tantrum, shoot him!”

  Thirty-six

  Griffen had no idea what to expect from his first “official” discussion meeting at the conclave.

  He had some assumptions, and some minor information from Slim and others about what would go on. What he really didn’t understand was what his part was to be in the whole mess. He was so new to things supernatural that he didn’t feel qualified to give an opinion on the simplest of matters. He certainly didn’t think he was a good judge or arbitrator of other people’s problems. Griffen hoped that things would go smoothly enough during this first meeting that he could more or less keep his head down.

  The topic, as he understood it, was loosely categorized as information technologies. He was sure things would wander a bit around the topic, but the crux of the discussion was to be geared toward a single issue. Someone had proposed that a database be set up listing all known willing supernatural entities and their general locations and territories.