Dragons Luck

“Any birds, size, shape, color, even sex. It makes no difference. I am limited to that, but within my bailiwick have no limitations. If it has feathers, I can manage it with a bit of work.”

“If you don’t mind my saying, you don’t look much like any bird I have seen,” Griffen said.

Jay smiled and ran a hand through his hair. He pulled the short strands up enough that Griffen could see they weren’t strands at all. They were very soft, downy black feathers. So fine he would never have been able to tell.

“You just haven’t seen one that has evolved enough.”

Thirty-three

One of Griffen’s oddities since leaving college life behind in Michigan and beginning a dragon’s life down in New Orleans was that he simply did not own an alarm clock. It was a trivial thing, something he rarely noticed and never commented upon. His sleep schedule was open, and if he ever needed to set an alarm, there was always his cell phone.

In fact, the cell phone was often his wake-up call, whether he set it or not. The loud buzz of an incoming call was the first thing he heard on any given morning. It never failed to annoy him.

This morning was no exception. The phone yanked Griffen out of a deep sleep, the kind of truly black nothing-ness that comes before the real dreams start. He jerked upright with a gasp, lunging for the phone. The bedside table still showed faint gouges from similar surprise wakings, but Griffen was learning to control his reflexes.

He popped open the lid of his phone and saw just why he felt so startled and groggy all at once. He had gotten a generous four hours of sleep.

“Mr. McCandles, we gots some big problems down here.”

“Slim...”

Griffen recognized the voice through the haze of sleep and shook his head, trying to clear it more. Not quite tracking, he said the first thing that came into his head.

“Isn’t it time you started calling me Griffen?”

“Well . . . let’s just wait till after this here meet is done with. Might feel different ’bout that by then. We got problems,” Slim said.

Griffen was already up and getting dressed.

“It’s nine in the morning, Slim,” Griffen said, voice slightly muffled as he pulled on his shirt.

“Sorry ’bout that, but not every attendee is quite as nocturnal as you. Be glad it ain’t a normal convention, or you’d have to get here every day by now.”

“Right. I’ll try to remember to be more thankful that these aren’t ‘normal’ conventioneers.”

Despite his sarcasm, a wry smile pulled at his lips. As troublesome as it might be, at least his life wasn’t boring. He hurried out the door, cell phone still pressed to his ear.

“Fill me in while I’m on my way,” Griffen said, heading out the security gate and onto the street.

“Sure thing, but not the Sonesta. The problem is in the garous’ hotel room.”

Griffen quickly changed his course, taking a right at the first street he came to.

“The Best Western? Up on Rampart right?”

“Right, which may or may not be a helpfulness. Anyways, I’m headin’ up there myself, so you might beat me. Just head on up to the room. They is waitin’,” said Slim.

“Okay, but you still haven’t told me just what is going on.” Rampart was only a few blocks away, but a few blocks on hurried feet without proper sleep or anything resembling breakfast seemed to drag on forever. Griffen kept his strides long and fast, but didn’t run. He had learned the hard way that running through the Quarter was great fodder for the local rumor mills.

The last time he had just been trying to pick up a snack at the A&P during a commercial break. By nightfall he had gotten a full barrage of everything from jokes about his taking up jogging to whispers that he had been running from someone. He didn’t even want to think about what would spring up if he ran and looked worried at the same time.

Slim clicked his tongue. “I don’t quite have all the details. Got a panic call from one of the lesser wolves. They all sharin’ a couple of adjoining rooms there and he heard a snarl and sounds of a fight in the john.”

“Is that all?” Griffen asked.

“Well . . . he opened the door and said their leader had been attacked. By some ‘thing’ he said,” Slim added.

“Umm? ‘Thing’?”

“Yeah, here’s where it gets garbled. Couldn’t put together ’nough words for me to have a clue what he found in there.”

Griffen started to slow his pace to a normal walking speed.

“Slim, that doesn’t exactly sound like an emergency. By the time we get there, whatever fight happened will be well over.”

“Yep, you right ’bout that. Fact it was over when the kid opened the door. He just too far out of his depth not to yelp for help,” Slim said.

Griffen again noticed a bit of the disdain in Slim’s tone that he and the other animal-control people had for the shape-shifters. He didn’t have the time and patience just then to question it again.

“So why are we running over there?” Griffen said.

He didn’t say, tempting though it was, why the hell did you wake me?

“ ’Cause, the critter is still there.”