Dragons Luck

George vanished and materialized back on his bar stool. He nonchalantly folded up his newspaper and crossed his hands over his lap. Then he looked Valerie square in the eye and lifted his chin.

“Feel free to hit me if it will make you feel better. I think we’ve already proved that it won’t do much in the way of permanent damage.”

Valerie thought for a moment, then lowered the blackjack to her side. She walked back around to the other side of the bar. Which left Griffen standing there feeling silly. He sat back down in his seat.

“Well, if we are playing things this way, can I buy you something other than coffee?” Griffen asked.

Valerie banged something noisily behind the bar. Griffen flinched.

“No, thank you, alcohol doesn’t affect me the same way it affects you. Caffeine actually works better,” George said.

“You are both getting on my nerves. If you’ve nothing else to say other than ‘Hi, I’m not here to try and kill you,’ then I think you can leave,” Val said.

George nodded slightly and began to stand up. Only to reach into his pocket. Valerie set her hand on the bar, the blackjack still clenched in her fist.

Slowly, carefully, he pulled out a small plain card with nothing but a phone number on it.

“Actually, I also came specifically here to apologize to you. I was hunting Griffen when you got yourself involved. Still, if I had been a gentleman, I would have backed off and waited till you were otherwise occupied,” George said.

“Nice to know you would have waited till I was distracted, then tried to kill my brother,” Valerie said.

Griffen really felt he should get involved. Do something to derail this train wreck. Self-preservation, however, said otherwise. He kept his mouth shut. Forget George; all he would do would be to try to kill him. His sister would destroy him.

“Hmm, interesting perspective,” George said. “In any case, I would make amends.”

“How?” Val asked.

“By asking you on a date,” he said.

“What!?” Griffen blurted before thinking about it.

Val swung the blackjack menacingly at both of them.

“Did you set this up for some dumb reason, Big Brother?” she asked.

“Why would I?!” Griffen said.

“Calm down both of you. This was my own idea, and a wild one at that,” George said.

“Which brings up the question, why on God’s green earth would I go on a date with you? Much less as some apology to me?” Val asked.

“Why, because there is this lovely masked ball that I’m sure you are dying to attend.”

“What masked ball?” she asked.

“Why, the traditional one at the end of the conclave. Where I’m sure you’ll want to keep an eye on your brother surrounded by people in costume who might have a grudge,” George said.

There was a long moment of silence. Valerie stepped toward George and snatched the card from the table. He was just starting to smile when the blackjack swung up and sent him flying backward.

Griffen very carefully kept his eyes on the blackjack as Val turned to him.

“What?” she said. “He said I could and didn’t say there was a time limit.”

“Actually, I pretty much saw that one coming. Feel better?” Griffen said.

“Much,” Val said.

George picked himself up off the floor and brushed himself off. His jaw showed no real sign of just having been crushed by a sap. Still, he made no move to approach the bar again.

“Well then, you have my number. I suppose it’s time to find a less hostile drinking establishment,” he said.

With that, he shifted, leaving Griffen and Valerie looking at a very large, shaggy dog. The dog opened its mouth, tongue lolling, bowed its head to the two, and bolted out of the bar.

“So,” Valerie said, turning her full attention to Griffen,

“what masked ball?”

Griffen’s attention was still on the door. His mind focused on the dog that had been George. A very familiar dog.

“Honestly, this is the first I’ve heard of it. Besides, I’m still trying to figure out what George was doing in heels,” he said, absently.

Val looked at her brother.

“What?!”

“It would be so easy!” Lizzy said to herself.

She stood on a third-story balcony, watching the Quarter. Well, no, that wasn’t quite right. She was watching the French Quarter as it could be.

From here she could see it all. She could see the security gate that led to the complex that the McCandleses shared. She could look down the street. See the road where Valerie would turn to go to work. The road she could come back down if she went to the A&P. The path Griffen would stagger back down when he got worried about following the same roads and took the alternate path he always took.

Then she could see Valerie on the road. Not that she was there. It was an “already happened” Valerie. Valerie as Lizzy had watched her jogging early this very morning. Lizzy watched as she ran through people, who of course couldn’t see her. Didn’t feel as Valerie ghosted through them in Lizzy’s sight. Valerie wasn’t there; she was only in Lizzy’s eyes, because she was in Lizzy’s memory.