Dragons Luck

Fifty-two

Lizzy’s laughter filled the ballroom, and all around people flinched. Griffen himself felt a heavy, cold weight in his stomach as the laugh filled his ears. No syllable matched, as if it were a dozen different laughs all fighting to burst free. It wasn’t even the raw anger underneath that made it so terrible. Worse than that, something in it pulled at those hearing it, something infectious.

Madness that wanted to spread.

Griffen kept his reactions off his face and took another step forward. The laughter snapped off as Lizzy’s eyes narrowed watching him.

“Handle this? You mean handle me! Darling, sweet baby boy, you couldn’t handle me—well, not and survive anyway. Though the actual handling could be fun, come to think of it. Hey, I know! Let’s ditch this place and go find out; I can always butcher your sister and friends later.”

The last traces of fear evaporated under Griffen’s anger. His fists clenched, and he felt his skin start to harden into scales. Lizzy smiled, a beaming grin of a happy child. Griffen realized she liked seeing him react, liked pushing his buttons. And realized just as quickly that he couldn’t afford the luxury. He got his face under control, though under his skin he could feel the itch of the scales ready to manifest.

Lizzy’s smile faded to a small pout as Griffen pulled himself together. She started to stalk in a wide circle around him, broken eyes riveted to him. People moved out of her way, clearing the floor space surrounding them. Though he noticed she circled away from Valerie, putting him between the two. As if reading his thoughts, her eyes flicked over his shoulder to his sister, then back to him. A new smile, sly and cruel, worked across her lips.

“So… Griffen McCandles. I’ve watched you, you know. Not much; you didn’t look like much fun, but it was amusing. Watching you scurry about as I sorted things out in my head. Watching you walk with your ‘friend’ Mai, my my Mai, wasn’t she a surprise. I sorted things out… things out of sort…”

Lizzy’s eyes started to glaze, just for a moment, as her train of thought derailed. Griffen couldn’t help but tense, almost leaped on her in that instant of distraction, but hesitated, trying to think through all the angles. She snapped back into focus and shouted, loud enough to shake the chandeliers, “Don’t think it, baby boy!”

More people flinched, a few of the shifters actually falling to their knees clutching their ears. Griffen could practically feel Val’s glare from behind him and could just make out a rustle of clothes he thought was her moving closer. Lizzy kept shouting, quieter now but just as emphatic, hands sawing through the air as she gestured, spittle flying from her lips unnoticed as she raved.

“Baby! Hatchling! Both of you are just sooo. Young! And stupid! And you still cause me all these headaches, all this confusion! I should have killed you both, blown up your house, blown up your city, never gotten close enough to have to think!”

She paused, going calm and suddenly serious, rubbing two fingers to her temple.

“It’s problems like this that really make me wonder if I am… a little off… after all.”

Griffen stared, without any clue of what to do. Someone that crazy, that confused, and she only wondered if she were a little off? And he had no question that she was very dangerous. Any direct fight, and who knew what damage it would cause. But how could you reason with someone like this? Or even talk them down?

Val made the decision for him.

“I really don’t think ‘a little’ covers it, Lizzy, dear,” Val said.

She stepped toward them both, and a little to Griffen’s side, though he didn’t dare take his eyes off Lizzy to look at her. Looking out of the corner of his eye, he could tell she was angry.

Valerie had come to the party as something out of the Greek pantheon. White dress, not quite a toga, embroidered with gold on the hem and neckline. A wreath of flowers and vines was in her hair. She looked more the part now as she stepped toward the threat of Lizzy. She was a good four inches taller than usual, and so tense she almost trembled.

Yet her voice was calm, quiet. Mocking, yes, but none of the warlike anger he usually expected from his sister in this kind of situation.

“Oh? What would you say, heifer?” Lizzy snapped, angry again.

“I’d say ‘crazy,’ but then I would have to spend the rest of my life going around to asylums and apologizing to the inmates for the comparison. I think we need a new word for the level of insane you are.”

“Ooooh! It’s trying to be funny! Everyone, the wonder cow is trying to be witty! Isn’t that just great?!”

No one around responded, but Lizzy didn’t seem to expect them to. Griffen recognized that look in her eye; they were just… backdrop. Unimportant, not worth noticing, and probably disposable.

“That’s right, keep with the size jokes. Not all of us need magic to look skinny. Or is it just bulimia?” Val said, her mocking tone now mixed with pity.

Lizzy’s face contorted in rage, and for just a split second Griffen saw more than the package she presented. The bones that pressed against her skin seemed wrong, and for just a moment all her teeth seemed pointed. Then that second was gone, and she merely looked pissed.

“You know, now that I see you up close, not much of a resemblance between you two. Brother and sister? Naw… no chance. Mama must have been doin’ the mailman.”

A man emerged from the crowd, dressed as Zorro, complete with sword. Val looked at him sharply, and that drew Lizzy’s attention to him. When he spoke, Griffen just barely recognized his voice.

“You really shouldn’t confuse the McCandleses with your own family, young lady,” George said.

“Wha… who are you? Who is this?! Why is he talking to Lizzy?” Lizzy shouted, head jerking back and forth between him, Griffen, and Valerie.

More important than “who,” why is he speaking? Griffen thought. His mind was still in crisis mode, trying to make sense of what was in front of him, trying to find a plan. And at that instant he doubted that George would involve himself in this fight without reason, or a plan of his own. Looking at Lizzy, a lightning-bolt idea flared in Griffen’s mind.

Distraction.

“Did you want something… Lizzy is it? Come here for some reason?” Griffen said in his calmest, most reasonable voice.

He hoped she didn’t notice the approving glimmer in George’s eye.

“Or did you just come for the party? Is one of these gentleman on the floor your date?” George said.

And moved a little more, so that Lizzy was now almost directly between him and Griffen, with Val somewhere off to the side. Lizzy tried to divide her attention between the three, actually shifting her feet a little uncertainly.

Val also glanced at George and Griffen, and an expression of understanding crossed her face, quickly followed by an expression Griffen hoped never to see again. Valerie suddenly looked like a cat with a new mouse.

But it wasn’t Val who threw in the next volley; to Griffen’s surprise, Tink appeared almost directly behind Lizzy.

“They stocked some really good wine, can I get you a glass?” he said, beaming with friendly innocence.

She whirled at him, fingers suddenly tipped with long claws. It was a surprised, automatic action, and he easily dodged, but it left her back to both Val and Griffen, who took another step toward her. She turned back almost at once but didn’t seem to notice they were closer.

“No wine! No party! I want… Shit, what I want is… I mean,” she stammered.

And all across the room others caught on.

Kane moved toward the fallen loup garou, now several feet away from Lizzy, but she tracked him anyway. He waved her off, kneeling by a garou and pressing an ear to his chest.

“I jus’ gonna check on my boys, you no mind me none, miss. We settle up just whenever you ready,” he said.

“I was just trying to offer wine,” Tink said, his voice making it clear that he was enjoying this, “or maybe you’d rather a canapé?”

All around the room, conversations started up again, loudly. Not many, but enough to turn the ballroom into a swirl of echoes and voices. All eyes stayed on Lizzy, but those quick enough to see what was going on and what was being tried spoke up.

Of all the things Griffen had expected from those attending the conclave, he would never have imagined to see bravery.

And teamwork.

Estella was the next to push her way forward, looking over Lizzy as disapprovingly as one could while dressed as a zombie.

“You really should have dressed better, my dear. This is a formal occasion,” she said.

“That’s right, do you have an invite?” George asked.

“Do you?!” several near George said to him at once, then almost as one turned to each other and repeated the question. “Do you?!”

The conversation grew; somewhere, someone turned up the music. Every time Lizzy opened her mouth to respond to someone, another would speak up and cut her off. She jerked her attention around the room, mouth half-open and eyes bulging.

“I really must insist as moderator I know your business here, before we get back to festivities,” Griffen said.

“I’m sure we could find a nice clown mask for you,” Val said. “Or maybe something in red and white; you can go as a very short barber’s pole.”

“Oh, I have a spare mask,” a random voice called from the crowd.

“Oh, I know what you want! Steak tartare,” Tink said triumphantly.

“All my boys, dey is just fine, but you gonna owe them an apology. Maybe a dance?” Kane spoke up.

The fog swirled over the ground, Tink’s will-o’-the-wisps danced brightly, voices surged in volume like a wave as people made demands on Lizzy. As surreal as the setting and the moment seemed to Griffen, he could only imagine the weight of it on a madwoman.

Lizzy snapped.

“Make the voices stop!”

The volume of the scream, and the force of glamour that rolled off her in her anger subdued the room. Something shattered high above, and Griffen realized it was some of the crystals from the chandeliers. Shards rained down, but few paid any attention. Lizzy was rocking back and forth, arms wrapped about herself tightly. And Griffen was shocked to see that a shard score across her cheek, leaving a line of blood. Those that hit him bounced.

Val spoke in the silence, and her tone was cold and filled with what Griffen could only think of as hate.

“I just figured it out, Lizzy, why me and Nathaniel bother you so. You must just be jealous,” Val said.

“Jealous?” Lizzy said.

Her voice was so small and lost that Griffen regretted the whole thing. He looked to Val, and through her anger he saw something similar. She had words she had been about to say, and no longer could stomach saying them.

George must have seen it, too, for he spoke up. Griffen later convinced himself that whatever Val had been thinking, it had been nothing so cruel.

“No worries,” George said. “I’m sure the twisted sicko prefers his sister in bed to anyone else.”

It hung in the air, and Val glared at her “date” for the evening but picked up the line.

“I suppose so. You’re safe… Elizabeth,” Val said.