Dragons Wild

Seventeen

Even though it was only supposed to be temporary shelter, Griffen found himself growing increasingly fond of the complex he and Valerie were housed in. He had been puzzled at first by the apparent lack of neighbors, but when he asked, the answer was quite simple.

Mose owned the whole complex. He used the apartments to host the occasional poker game if they didn’t want the lack of privacy that was the downside of using a hotel room. They also served as “perks” for various out of town high rollers, one of the few concessions made to the new competition of the casino. New Orleans wasn’t used to Vegas-style casinos, but with a relatively new Harrah’s literally across Canal Street, the locals had to adapt.

The location of the complex was convenient, tucked away on a small street running parallel to Decatur one block into the Quarter proper. It was only a block and a half away from Jackson Square with its wide range of amusements and distractions, and the street itself was lined with small shops featuring used books, small restaurants, craft and vintage clothing shops, and even one small local bar, Harry’s Corner, that was open twenty-four hours a day.

The complex itself was impressive. It had been designed and built in the 1800s by the same person who had designed and built Pat O’Brien’s, a popular bar and restaurant on St. Peter in the heart of the Quarter. Griffen learned this by listening to the carriage drivers who paused at the entrance-way to rest their mules while regaling their passengers with the history of this particular landmark.

Griffen found himself feeling not only comfortable, but safe. It was as if, nestled as his temporary home was in the surroundings, it was protected by the Quarter itself. He felt himself relaxing, comforted by old brick and the constant swirl of activity beyond the complex walls.

After the inevitable wrought-iron gate on the street, there was a low carriage passage leading to the open-air courtyard. The courtyard itself featured heavily planted gardens, with the apartments in the three buildings surrounding it reaching up two stories. The second floor was circled by a wooden walkway edged by a railing, affording residents a fine view of the courtyard as they emerged from their dwelling.

It was on that walkway that Griffen found himself one morning in the early daylight hours. He was in one of those rare moods that occasionally strike young men. That is, he had abandoned the music and lingering crowds of the clubs to return home, but upon reaching that destination, discovered he was not yet ready to go to sleep. Having noted the clear sky and fresh air still not heated by the new day’s sun, instead of watching a DVD or curling up to read, he decided to pull a chair out onto the walkway and enjoy the morning while he read.

Unfortunately, the book he was reading proved insufficient to hold his attention. He had picked it up at the used bookstore down the street, but as he started to read it, he realized it was merely a reprint of a novel he had read before, rereleased under a new title with a new cover.

As his attention wandered, his eye was drawn to a movement in the courtyard below. It was a cat…no, two cats, strolling regally along one of the walkways between the gardens.

Griffen had noted them, or other similar cats, in the courtyard before, but had never paid them much attention. They usually kept their distance, or, if one attempted to call them over, they would either run or simply fade back into the shadows.

This time, as he watched them, Griffen remembered what his uncle Mal had said about animal control. On a whim, he set aside his book and descended to the ground level to see if there was any substance to the claim.

As he approached the animals, however, he realized that he didn’t have the foggiest idea what was involved in animal control. Pausing about twenty feet away, he stared at them.

They ignored him.

After a few moment’s consideration, he tried to focus a suggestion at them.

“Come here.”

It was a simple enough order.

One sat down and began to wash its crotch.

“Come here.”

Nothing.

Maybe he should try something else.

“Go away.”

The washer broke off its hygienic activity, and they both began to saunter toward the carriageway.

Griffen felt his hopes lift. Maybe there was something there after all.

“What are you doing up so early, Big Brother?”

He turned to find Valerie emerging from her apartment. She was decked out in sweat suit and cross trainers, obviously ready to go jogging.

Griffen was suddenly embarrassed at having gotten caught in his animal control attempt. Viewed through a sober and well-rested eye, his actions probably would seem silly. As a matter of fact, it seemed a little silly now even viewed through his own eyes. He was just glad she hadn’t seen enough to be able to figure out what he had been attempting.

“Hi, Val,” he said. “Actually, I’m just coming in.”

“Well, since you’re up, want to come running with me?”

Griffen had to admit that the suggestion seemed even sillier to him than animal control.

“You know I’m not much for exercise,” he said evasively.

“You sure?” his sister said. “I’ll spring for breakfast at the Cafe Du Monde afterward.

“Actually, it’s about time for me to crash and burn,” Griffen said. “It’s been a good day, but it’s time it was over.”

“Actually, it’s a different day,” Valerie said pointedly.

“You know what they say down here,” Griffen countered. “Whatever the clock says, the day isn’t over till you go to sleep and wake up again.”

His sister started her stretching exercises to warm up her legs.

“Isn’t that usually for people who work night shifts, like grave shift bartenders and cab drivers?” she said.

“That and people who can pick their own hours of when to sleep and when to be awake,” Griffen said.

“If you say so,” Valerie said, starting for the front gate. “Anyway, good luck on your animal control. Let me know how it works out.”

Watching her go, Griffen had a moment of wry despair of ever being able to put one over on his sister.

“Hey, Big Brother,” Valerie called, returning to the courtyard. “Looks like someone left a message for you. This was taped to the front gate.”

She handed him a regular white envelope with his name written on it. He took it and stared at it for a long moment.

“Aren’t you going to open it?” Valerie urged.

“Not right now,” Griffen said, trying to sound casual.

“Don’t worry. If it’s from a new woman, I won’t tell Fox Lisa.”

“Uh-huh,” Griffen said, tucking the envelope in his back pocket.

“So be that way,” Valerie said, sticking her tongue out at him. “I can tell when I’m not wanted.”

With that, she turned on her heel and headed for the front gate again.

Griffen waited until he was sure she was gone, then pulled out the envelope again. From the feel of it, he was afraid he knew what was inside. He opened he missive and confirmed his fears.

Inside was a tarot card. The Knight of Swords. A duplicate of the one he had been carrying in his wallet since Detroit. The sense of safety Griffen had allowed himself to be lulled into by his new surroundings crumbled.

George was not only in New Orleans, he knew where Griffen lived.