Dragons Luck

Thirty-eight

Taking advantage of an open period in his schedule, Griffen tried to hook up with Slim to double-check the arrangements for the next day’s activities. Though the street entertainer had no official standing in the running of the conclave, he had proved to be a great help at seeing to the myriad of details that went into running an event, as well as serving as a liaison with the local groups.

The problem was, he wasn’t always that easy to find.

He was one of those that tended to keep his cell phone turned off except when he was making a call, which made that avenue of communication iffy at best. What was worse, he didn’t have any particular movement or behavior patterns, making his whereabouts unpredictable. While he would occasionally hang out with the other animal-control people at the conclave, for the most part he was a loner, seeming to prefer his own company.

One place there was always a chance of finding someone from the conclave was the hotel lobby bar. While the attendees were mostly into exploring the wilds of the Quarter and the locals tended to duck out to drink at their habitual watering holes, the lobby bar was convenient for a quick drink or conversation.

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.