Dragons Wild gm-1

by Robert Asprin

  “Now that you’re coming of age, however, things are heating up again. You see, with two near purebloods for parents, the other dragons are assuming that you’ll have rare strength, particularly once your secondary powers develop. Many fear that, despite your youth, you’re potentially more powerful than they are. Can you see what that means?”

  “I’ve got an idea,” Griffen said, “but tell me anyway.”

  “You’ve become a focal point of the dragon hierarchy. Some will be content to wait and see what powers you develop and what use you decide to make of them. Others will make every effort to recruit you as an ally. I fear, however, that there will be others who will simply try to kill you or have you killed just to be sure those powers aren’t used against them.”

  “I see,” Griffen said. “Tell me, you keep saying that all this is coming down the road at me. What about Valerie?”

  If other dragons might be out to kill him, where did that leave his situation with the “dragon” in the room? If Malcolm was so deranged by guilt over losing his brother that his mind has slipped into this dementia, what would be the next logical step? If logic could apply. Would he wish to kill a rival dragon, even his own nephew? Would the executive have a gun in his desk? Or would he try to rip Griffen’s throat out like an animal?

  He swallowed, and tried his best to keep his breathing regular. Malcolm had not once taken his keen eyes off of Griffen, and the younger man realized he didn’t want his uncle to know just how fast his heartbeat was going at the thoughts of his possible death.

  “I’m sure others have kept an eye on her, but your sister has a ways to grow yet before she’s a factor,” Malcolm said. “Besides, as wild and undisciplined as she is, I believe there are other plans in store for her. Using her for breeding stock without her being aware of it comes to mind. For the moment, however, it would be best to focus on your problems.”

  Griffen practically ground his teeth at that. He had kept control all through the talk of threats to him, but the callous tone about his sister…Again he kept his reactions to himself, still waiting to see how this would unfold. In any other situation, though, he would have left, or bloodied Malcolm’s nose.

  “All right.” Griffen nodded. “So how many of the individuals or blocs are there, and which ones do I have to look out for?”

  “Not so fast.” Malcolm said, taking a long draw on his cigar. “Filling you in on the general situation falls under my duties as your guardian. Giving you specific information is a whole different ball game. In case you haven’t figured it out, I’m one of the players you have to deal with. Like your father, I’m a near pureblood. Unlike him, however, I’ve gone to great lengths to keep a low profile in the interdragon power struggles. If I give you too much help, take you under my wing so to speak, all that could change.”

  In other words, Griffen thought, Malcolm protected his own ass (or was that tail?) when he could have helped save his brother. Griffen wondered why he would do anything else for his nephew…unless it gained him something.

  Griffen realized suddenly that he had been dead wrong, and felt like an idiot. Too many monster movies, not enough sense. This wasn’t a trap, it was an attempt to increase his uncle’s power. He could see the recruitment offer coming like a train down a tunnel, but doubted it would be anything like what he had been hoping for when he first entered the office building. Griffen felt like an absolute fool.

  “Personally, I’m inclined to be one of those who take a wait-and-see attitude. If you want specific help and training, on the other hand, I’d need your reassurance and pledge that you would align with me and not use what I tell you against me.”

  He leaned back in his chair and flashed a wide smile.

  “So I guess the ball is really in your court, Griffen. Do you want to sign on with me here and now, or do you want to play it as an independent for a while?”

  Three

  It was notably early in the day to drink, but Griffen figured he deserved one. Not that he needed one, mind you, but it would be welcome nonetheless. Besides, the ground-floor bar in Malcolm’s office building was irresistibly convenient.

  Sliding onto a stool, he absently gave the bartender his order…Irish whiskey on the rocks (beer was so working class)…and settled down to think.

  He had come to the meeting with such high expectations, and now it seemed he had to recalculate his entire future. Only one thing was sure. The cushy job he had hoped for with his uncle Malcolm was a bust. He had known all along that rich, successful people tended to be a bit odd, but his uncle, in the words of Raymond Chandler, was as crazy as three waltzing mice.

  Dragons! Power blocs! Executions and assassinations!

  If Griffen had owned any stock in any of his uncle’s corporations, he would be thinking seriously of dumping it. Of course, to date he had steered clear of such legalized gambling, preferring the kind when you got to see your opponent face-to-face.

  The nerve of Malcolm! Never mind this dragon nonsense. From his own words, he left his own brother to hang for his own profit, and held out his hand to Griffen for the same reason. When he figured Griffen was the most vulnerable, dreading the thought of working and the real world. There was no way Griffen wanted part of a businessman, or business dragon, with those kind of priorities and those sort of tactics.

  At least he wasn’t totally stranded. He had maybe $20-25,000 he had squirreled away between his poker winnings and what he had skimmed from his monthly allowance. That and his car, which ran most of the time. Originally he had figured on using the stash on his wardrobe and maybe to furnish a nice bachelor pad, but he could live on it for a while until he came up with a viable option.

  Unfortunately, most options he could think of at the moment involved working, something he had managed to fastidiously avoid in his life to date.

  Maybe Mai would have an idea.

  Mai!

  He suddenly remembered that he was supposed to meet her back at the hotel room with a report on how his meeting had gone. It wouldn’t do to keep her waiting too long. Mai was not a girl to be kept waiting.

  They had been playmates and occasional lovers back in school, and when he had mentioned the meeting with his uncle to her, she had offered to tag along…a combination of moral support and a chance for her to do a little shopping. He had always known that he was more emotionally involved than she was. It was one of the things she found endearing about him, which would worry him if he let himself dwell too much on it. She never said much about her own background, but the way she went through money it was a cinch her family wasn’t exactly hurting. Not a bad person to consult with about his future. She might even provide a contact or two.

  His mind invaribly came back to Uncle Malcolm. For the first time he wondered if it had all been some kind of complicated joke. Again, he hadn’t had all that much direct contact with the man, but from what he knew Malcolm was not the practical-joking kind. Something was very wrong. Griffen didn’t have a glimmer as to what was really going on.

  Tossing a couple bills on the bar, Griffen finished the rest of his drink in one long swallow and eased off the stool. The confused young graduate left the building, feeling lost and more than a bit sorry for himself.

  He tried to console himself that at least now he had a plan of sorts. Hook up with Mai and pick her mind a bit. Even if nothing came of it, they could enjoy a night on the town and he could attack the problem fresh in the morning.

  Emerging into the daylight, he paused for a moment to squint up at the sky. There were a few clouds up there, but the temperature was pleasant enough. He’d go ahead and walk the five blocks back to the hotel. Taxis should be an avoidable luxury for a while until he settled his future finances.

  “Mr. McCandles? Griffen McCandles?”

  Blinking with surprise and from the sun, Griffen redirected his attention from the sky to the man who had addressed him.

  Actually, there were two of them, though only one had spoken. They seemed ordinary enough, to a p
oint where he probably wouldn’t have noticed them on the street if they hadn’t approached him. Viewing them now, however, there was a sameness in their stance and posture that suggested either military or police, regardless of their tailored suits.

  “Yes? Can I help you?” he said, glancing back and forth between the two men.

  For a moment, the characters from Men in Black flashed through his mind, but he shrugged the image off. If nothing else, their suits were gray, not black, and neither of them was wearing sunglasses. Apparently his discussion with his uncle had affected him more than he had realized.

  “There’s someone who would like a few words with you, if you can spare a moment.”

  The man speaking took a step backward and gestured toward a limousine that was standing at the curb. His partner took a step sideways, so that they effectively had Griffen bracketed, blocking his movement in either direction along the sidewalk.

  Griffen glanced around quickly. None of the other pedestrians on the street seemed to take notice of what was going on. Perhaps such occurrences were normal in this town.

  He decided nothing could be as strange as his uncle, but didn’t feel like getting in a stranger’s car. Unless this was how the CIA recruited, he really wanted nothing to do with them. He turned as if to push past the men, only to have a heavy hand with an iron grip fall on his shoulder.

  “We really must insist, Mr. McCandles,” the man said, and squeezed with his hand.

  Griffen fought back a yelp, this man was strong! So much for Uncle Malcolm’s comments about tough skin, Griffen felt like his shoulder socket was about to be ground to dust. Of course, he realized grudgingly, that had little to do with the skin.

  With an offhand shrug, he tried to shake the hand off. Tried, and failed. The other man nodded pointedly to the limo, squeezed once more, then let him go with a little push. Straightening, Griffen tried to maintain some dignity, and walked over to the limo. As he did, the back door opened as if in greeting. Not breaking stride, he stepped into the air-conditioned interior and sank into the nearest seat.

  “Mr. McCandles. So good of you to join me.” A warm, resonant voice came to him from the depths of the vehicle. “I don’t believe we’ve had the opportunity to talk before.”

  Griffen was so surprised, he barely noticed the two suits entering behind him and closing the door before the limo eased into traffic. He wasn’t particularly up on news and politics, but one would have to live in a barrel not to recognize the man addressing him.

  “Senator Langley,” he said, inclining his head in a polite nod. “An honor to meet you, sir.”

  “Ah, so you know who I am.” The man beamed, flashing the smile that the newspapers and TV cameras loved.

  “It would be hard not to, considering your distinguished career,” Griffen said. “I’m just a little surprised that you know who I am…or care, for that matter.”

  “I’ve known your family for a long time.” The senator waved, negligently. “Congratulations on your graduation, by the way.”

  “Thank you,” Griffen said. “So, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?”

  “More curiosity than anything,” Langley said. “I heard you were meeting with your uncle today, and I just wanted to hear how the two of you got along.”

  Griffen wasn’t sure which was more unbelievable. The idea that Senator Langley was aware of his movements, or the fact that he had been waiting outside his uncle’s office in a limo for an unspecified length of time to find out the results of his meeting.

  “We got along well enough, I guess,” he said cautiously. “It’s the first time we’ve really sat and talked, you know. Of course, he didn’t need an ‘escort’ to get me to talk to him.”

  “Yes, yes,” the senator said, leaning forward impatiently and ignoring the younger man’s dig. “What I want to know is whether or not you’ve signed on with him.”

  This was getting just too bizarre. Griffen decided that he wanted to draw this discussion to a conclusion.

  “No, I haven’t,” he said. “Frankly, I found Uncle Malcolm too unorthodox for my comfort.”

  Langley sat back and stared at him.

  “Unorthodox?” he echoed. Then a smile warmed his face. “Oh. I see. You mean about the dragons.”

  Griffen frowned at him. Was the whole world going crazy?

  “Yes. I guess that was it,” he managed. “And please don’t tell me that you’re one, too. I’ve heard enough about dragons for one day…if not for a lifetime.”

  The senator blinked, obviously startled.

  “Me? No. I’m not a dragon. Some of the principals I represent are, however. They’re very interested in…”

  “Senator,” one of the bodyguards said.

  Somehow he managed to crowd both an admonishment and a warning into the one word. Griffen made a hasty revision of his interpretation of the relationship between the senator and his two escorts.

  “Well, the less said about that, the better,” the senator said hastily. “For both our goods.”

  “Excuse me?” Griffen said, now totally confused.

  “Nothing, nothing.” Langley smiled, regaining his composure. “So, you turned Mal down, eh?”

  “Well, actually I told him I’d think about it,” Griffen said, “but I’ll admit I just can’t see us working together.”

  “Only one to a hill, eh?” the senator said. “I guess that’s wise. Courageous to the point of being foolhardy, perhaps, but wise nonetheless. Well, I guess that answers my questions. Don’t want to take up any more of your time. I believe this is your hotel.”

  The limo pulled smoothly over to the curb in front of Griffen’s hotel.

  Griffen was starting to have a few questions of his own, but it was clear the discussion was at an end.

  “Right. Well, it was great meeting you, sir,” he said, reaching for the door handle.

  “Just one thing, Griffen…if I can call you that,” Langley said. “A friendly word of advice. Get used to hearing about dragons. They aren’t going to go away just because you don’t believe in them.”

  It wasn’t until Griffen had almost reached the entrance of the hotel that it occurred to him that the senator had never asked where he was staying. He had already known.

  Pausing, he glanced down the street in the direction the limo had gone.

  It had stopped a half block away. The door opened and one of the “bodyguards” emerged to stand beside the vehicle. Though he carefully did not look at Griffen, his posture was unmistakable to one who knew how to read people. His pose was calculated, threatening, and quite possibly lethal. He held the pose for a moment, then stuck his head back into the limo, apparently conferring with someone inside. He straightened and stared directly at Griffen for a long moment, then reentered the vehicle, which then moved off.

  Despite the day’s warmth, Griffen felt a sudden chill, as if he had just had a close call with an unseen, but no longer unknown danger.

  Four

  Mai looked like a doll and ate like a cannibal.

  Even though she was second-or third-generation American, her Asian ancestry apparently yielded strong enough genes that she could have walked into a role in The Flower Drum Song or maybe The World of Suzie Wong. She had that tiny, athletic physique one normally associates with gymnasts or dancers, and radiated enough energy to power an entire city block. Her dress and manner were pure American, though, and she exuded a rich, sophisticated aura that brought boutique clerks out of their comas and had any four-star restaurant head waiter snap to attention as if she were slumming royalty.

  Griffen loved being with her, if for no other reason than her dominating presence meant that he could give his sincere naivety pose a rest. No one even looked at him when he was with her. More than that, he enjoyed her company. Even now, watching her demolish a whole lobster, he took pleasure in her boundless enthusiasm.

  “What is it, lover?”

  Her sudden question roused him from his reverie.

  “E
xcuse me?” he said, caught off guard.

  “You were looking at me with a funny expression,” she said. “Have I got something stuck on my nose again?”

  “Not this time,” he said, smiling at the shared memory. “I was just trying to figure out how you can stuff so much food into such a small body and not gain any weight.”

  “I’m a high-energy person and I burn off a lot of calories,” she replied, negligently waving a forkful of lobster. “You know, kinda like a hummingbird. If I don’t eat a couple times my weight every day, I shrivel up and die.”

  “That must be it.” He smirked, watching the lobster disappear into the depths of her tiny mouth.

  “You certainly aren’t eating much,” she said, prizing another morsel of lobster from its shell. “Anything bothering you?”

  “Other than being unemployed with no immediate plans for the future, no,” he said with a grimace.

  “I told you not to worry about that,” she scolded, swirling her prize in the cup of melted butter. “I’m sure Daddy can find something for you. He owns a bunch of companies and employs zillions of people. If he doesn’t have an opening for someone with your talents, he’s bound to know someone who does.”

  “And what talents are those, pray tell?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe he can set you up as a male prostitute for bored housewives,” she said, giving him a bawdy wink.

  That got him to laugh out loud.

  “All right. You win,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender. “It’s impossible to stay depressed around you. So tell me about your father. What’s he like, anyway?”

  “Oh, he’s the typical Hong Kong businessman type,” she said, returning her attention to her meal. “Obsessed with finding new ways to make money. Still kinda old-fashioned in a stuffy sort of way, but he still knows how to have a good time. At least you don’t have to worry about him hassling you about being a dragon.”

  Griffen froze, staring at her.