Dragons Luck

“Time to talk the stuff of legends again. It is said that, very rarely, a dragon learns to see beyond what is. Well, not see, feel. The old phrase was ‘a heart free from time’ though the translation may have suffered as years have passed,” Mose said.

“Are you saying I’m sensing the future?”

“Not really, it’s more picking up on pain that is to come. Pain of the heart, of grief, not of the body. Don’t think you are going to get some ‘spidey-sense’ or any such nonsense,” Mose said.

“My grief, or others’?”

“Good question. I haven’t the foggiest. And I don’t really know if any of this is true, or applies to you. Still might just be collywobbles.”

Val thought, not so much of what he was saying but of what she wanted to say next. Somehow, it just didn’t feel safe, or smart, to bring up the subject of Lizzy.

Not directly anyway.

“I want to learn how to fight,” Val said.

Now it was Mose’s turn to blink at her.

“What do you mean? I had assumed with all your working out you would have had a decent fill of martial arts.”

“That’s not quite what I mean. I want to know how to fight . . . as a dragon.”

“No, you don’t,” Mose said.

Val reined in her temper and merely gave him a questioning look.

“Look . . . I mean it. Dragons fighting dragons, if that’s what you mean, just isn’t done. It takes so much effort, or special skills, to seriously hurt each other. Too much collateral damage. Those old legends said two dragons at war would crumble mountains, and I am not sure that was a metaphor.”

“And what if I don’t have a choice, and find myself without the skill I need?” Val said, and her voice caught ever so slightly.

Mose slumped back in his chair again and narrowed his eyes.

“Are you talking theoretically?” he said.

“I . . .”

He held up a finger.

“No games.”

“No . . . probably not,” Val said.

Mose turned his gaze from her and stared out his window. His eyes were much too far away for him to simply be looking at the courtyard outside.

“I have to think on that one, Valerie. I’m . . . not a fighter, haven’t been since I was a kid. Let me think on if I can in good conscience help you find what you are looking for. Much less whether I can give it to you, or find someone who can,” Mose said.

Valerie started to speak, then thought better of it. She followed Jerome’s course and left without another word.

She could still see Mose staring out his window as she approached the gate to the street. He didn’t seem to be seeing her.

Twenty-three

The Mystic Den was one of the most closely guarded secrets in the Quarter. Many of the people who lived and worked in the Quarter did not even know of its existence.

It was the lobby bar for the Royal Sonesta Hotel, one of the largest and most expensive hotels in the Quarter. Even though the hotel itself fronted on Bourbon Street, there was no street entrance to the Mystic Den, so it was overlooked by those who prowled and barhopped their way along that famous tourist attraction. You could only get into it by going through the hotel lobby or via a corridor at the back of the Desire Oyster Bar.

The bar itself was quiet and furnished with deep, comfortable chairs and sofas, a far cry from Griffen’s normal haunt at the Irish pub. That was one of the reasons he had chosen this location for his meeting with Slim. It was getting to a point where too many people knew to look for him at the Irish pub.

In honor of the occasion, Slim had forsaken his trademark white suit and striped top hat for a pair of loose-fitting slacks and a sports shirt. Without his street entertainer’s costume, he blended right in with the sparse afternoon crowd in the den.

“I dunno, Griffen,” he was saying. “Seems to me like you’re makin’ too big a thing out of the whole security problem.”

Courtesy of their meetings over the last several weeks regarding the conclave, Slim had reached a level of comfort where he now addressed Griffen by his first name rather than as “Mr. McCandles.” Unfortunately, this also meant he was comfortable criticizing Griffen’s plans.

“I always thought extra security was a good thing,” Griffen said. “The only way you know you don’t have enough security is when things start going wrong. I’d rather not see that happen.”

“Maybe,” Slim said. “But too much obvious security can send a bad message, too. Looks like you’re expecting trouble. Even worse, it looks like you don’t trust the attendees.”

Griffen grimaced.

“I am expecting trouble, and I don’t trust the attendees.”

“Of course,” Slim said. “But you can’t let it show. Man, you’re a dragon. You’re supposed to be confident and in control. You don’t want to look like you’re tryin’ to bully people around.”

“I thought I had that covered,” Griffen said. “That’s why I was suggesting we go to outside help. If I use any of my own crew, it’d look like I’m having the dragons team up on the rest of the conclave.”

“Outside help?” Slim said. “TeeBo and Patches and their thugs?”