Dragons Luck

“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.