Dragons Luck

“And you, Hobb? You were one of those who didn’t jump on the chance to show off when we first met.”

“Uh . . . my skills aren’t really of the public show-and-tell variety,” he said, and seemed to draw inward.

“Hobbykins isn’t really a people person. We didn’t really come here looking for you, it’s just that Bourbon Street was too hustle and bustle for him,” Robin said.

“Bourbon Street is too hustle and bustle for me. Don’t worry about it,” Griffen said.

Hobb looked at him gratefully and straightened up again. Griffen decided it would be a good time to ask something that had been weighing on his mind.

“I’ve been wondering, what do you hope to get out of this conclave? I mean, I sort of understood what you as a group expect, but personally. What does it do for you?” Griffen asked.

“For me . . . I have reason to want to explore some of the human magic users. Especially the healers. This is a good place to make contacts,” Hobb said.

“And I just want to meet everyone I can! I hear those garou are just too studly for words.”

Griffen and Hobb exchanged a glance. Robin put an elbow into both of their ribs.

“Hey, you two. A fae has to be true to her nature! Men!!” she said.

Hobb laughed and swiveled her around for a kiss. Griffen smiled and discreetly turned back to his drink. After a few moments, the girl’s small hand reached out and smacked him on the back of the head.

“And that hurt!” she said, rubbing the elbow she had put into his side.

“One of the perks of being a dragon. Tough skin,” Griffen said.

He was beginning to warm to the changelings. At least to these two. Though they were a little too much in your face for his liking, they had more variety than most of the other groups he had encountered. He liked the bit of randomness.

He could do with the one being a bit less physical, though. Tough skin or not, she’d almost made him spill his drink.

“Okay, Griffen,” Hobb said, “I have been with this one long enough to know when she is getting too loopy for her own good. Time to tuck her in before she starts yet another bar brawl.”

“Oh, you are no fun! Just ’cause you claim to be a lover not a fighter—” Robin started.

“Well, isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?” Hobb interrupted.

“Ooo, I can beat you up any day!” Robin said, and swung at him, almost dumping herself out of her chair.

He caught her and steadied her, with what Griffen noticed was much practice.

“Come on, dear. We’ve got a big week ahead of us.”

He gently pulled her to her feet, and despite her protests, she didn’t fight him too hard. Griffen had to shake his head and smile.

“Good night, you two.”

“Good night, Griffen,” Hobb said.

“It’s not a good night if I’m only going home with one of you.” Robin pouted but winked at Griffen.

For all her talk, it was clear she didn’t mean it. It was actually a nice change for him. He waved as the two walked out the door, and took the opportunity to hit the sandbox.

When he came out again, the bartender was waiting by his seat.

“Hey, Griffen, should your two friends be headed toward Rampart?”

“Not that I know of, why?”

“ ’Cause they stopped on the corner and looked both ways like they were confused. Thought you might want to go make sure they weren’t lost. Play wingman maybe.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it. I’ll be back soon.”

Griffen headed out the door and started toward Rampart. It wasn’t after midnight yet, so he didn’t worry too much, but the bartender was right. It was best to check. If it hadn’t been a busy night, the bartender would probably have done it himself.

Griffen heard the shouts from a block away.

“Get the fuck away from her!” Hobb shouted.

“Stop!” screamed Robin.

Griffen was running.

Robin was down on the ground, a hand cupped to her face. Two black kids, both taller than the two changelings, were closing on Hobb. One held Robin’s purse.

Griffen was still a half a block away when one of the muggers hit Hobb in the nose. Blood sprayed, spattering both of them. The other fisted him somewhere in the torso. Hobb raised an arm to ward them off, but he clearly had no fighting experience. Another hit to the head sent him down to the pavement.

One of the muggers seemed to be reaching for something at his waistband.

“Stop! Police!” Griffen shouted.

The muggers didn’t look up. They just turned and ran.

Griffen almost chased after them but stopped instead next to the fallen couple. He started to reach down to help Hobb up.

He half jumped back when the changeling screamed like a trapped animal and scrabbled away from him.

“Hobb . . . Hobb! It’s me, Griffen.”

“Mr. Griffen, stop,” Robin said. She was on her feet. Her cheek seemed to already be swelling.

Griffen stopped, holding his hands out to his sides.

“It’s okay, Hobb. I’m not going to hurt you,” Griffen said.

Hobb got shakily to his feet, blood was running down from his nose. More blood than Griffen would have expected. It covered his shirt.

“That’s pretty much the opposite of what he was worried about,” Robin said. “Hobb was born cursed . . . It’s the blood, you see.”