Dragons Luck

“You know,” she continued, “you should really have some wards set on this place . . . on your sister’s, too. It was entirely too easy for me to enter. If you ask Jerome, he should be able to help you with that.”

“May I offer you something to drink?” Griffen said, then realized how silly the thought was.

“That won’t be necessary.” Rose smiled. “But thank you for the thought.”

“So, what can I do for you?”

“Strangely, that is exactly why I wanted to speak to you,” Rose said. “I have a favor to ask of you.”

“Name it,” Griffen said, then regretted his words.

He really didn’t know what he could offer a ghost in the way of help, and wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Then again, was it possible to say no?

Rose raised her eyebrows.

“You may wish to consider carefully before agreeing,” she said. “It is not something I would ask slightly, nor something you should agree to hastily.”

“Okay. What’s the favor?” Griffen said, grateful for the out.

“Every thirteen years there is a gathering of supernatural and spiritual beings,” Rose said. “A conclave, if you will. The location rotates through various host cities. There is one happening this year over the Halloween weekend, and New Orleans has been chosen to host it.”

“So what’s the favor?” Griffen frowned. “Do you want me to be a speaker or something? If so, I don’t really think I’m qualified. Mose would be a better choice. If you’d like me to, I could ask him.”

“I actually had a more active role in mind,” Rose said, carefully. “If you are agreeable, it is my wish that you serve as moderator for the conclave.”

“Moderator?” Griffen echoed. “I’m even less qualified for that than to be a speaker. I don’t know any of these people . . . or types.”

“That’s what makes you the perfect choice,” Rose said. “You have no affiliation or alliance with any of the groups attending. More important, you’re a dragon. Dragons don’t usually attend these events, so everyone will be a little scared of you. It will help keep everyone in line.”

“Keep them in line?” Griffen said with a frown. “What sort of beings are going to be attending this conclave?”

“Think of them as normal conventioneers in town for the weekend,” Rose said. “You certainly have enough experience dealing with that from your time in the Quarter.”

“So does everyone else who lives here,” Griffen countered. “What do you need me for?”

“How do normal conventioneers act?” the voodoo queen pressed.

“Well, usually they wander through the Quarter, drink too much, make passes at the locals and each other, and sometimes wander down the wrong streets at night and get mugged or into a fight,” Griffen recited. “The pattern doesn’t change that much whether they’re sailors or librarians.”

“Now imagine that same behavior at a supernatural conclave.” Rose smiled.

Griffen did, and didn’t like the image he got.

“I see your point,” he said. “But seriously, Rose, I wouldn’t know what to do or where to begin.”

“I can help you with that as the event approaches,” Rose said. “This conclave is important . . . potentially crucial for the future of everyone involved. The important thing is that you agree to help.”

“But...”

“You do agree, don’t you?”

“Well, yes, but . . .”

The bedroom door opened, and Fox Lisa emerged blinking into the light.

“What’s up, lover?” she said, yawning into a fist. “I thought I heard voices.”

“It’s just . . .” Griffen began, then realized that Rose had disappeared.

“Unexpected visitor?” Lisa said, peering around the room. “Hell, invite her in. You know I don’t mind.”

“I . . . I don’t think that would be a good idea,” Griffen said, wondering how much he should explain, if at all.

“Lighten up, lover,” Fox Lisa said with a bawdy wink. “I keep telling you you’ve got to get into the spirit of the thing.”

Griffen was totally unable to explain why he found that so hysterically funny.

Two

“You did what?!”

The outburst took Griffen aback. He was sitting in Mose’s, as he so often found himself when seeking Mose’s advice. It had occurred to Griffen previously that, outside of card games, he had rarely seen Mose out of the older man’s home. Whether Mose was simply more comfortable in his own surroundings, or he just didn’t like to get out in the Quarter, Griffen couldn’t be sure. Regardless, his usually stoic guide seemed unduly stressed.

“I agreed to Rose’s request. What else could I do considering the help she has given me?” Griffen said.

“Look, son, I know your sense of honor has swelled up a whole lot more than most of the people your age. But you’ve never struck me as this stupid,” Mose said.

Griffen looked at his mentor in confusion. He had never found Mose this unbalanced, not to mention harsh. A part of himself winced over his teacher’s roughness, the rest of him hit the other end of the scales. He wanted to retaliate.

“I don’t see how agreeing to an ally’s need is stupid, Mose,” he said.

Mose seemed to draw himself inward, centering.

“Sorry . . . sorry. Wrong phrasing, Griffen. You caught me by surprise is all. That doesn’t happen much when you reach my age.”