Dragons Luck

Griffen was an experienced player, thought of himself as very good. He wasn’t one to let distractions change his expression, or mess up his game. He had played in harder, and hotter, situations before.

She bit his earlobe, and he almost dropped his cards. “Uh, Tammy, a little space please?”

“Sure thing.”

She leaned back, and laid her hands on his shoulders. He was too polite to suggest she move farther. Or perhaps take a chair.

Griffen watched his other players, and they watched him. For the most part they seemed . . . amused. Kane was practically leering. Margie had a smirk on her face. Lowell was looking a little too closely at his cards, in that way one did when he wanted to be obvious about not looking somewhere else. Even Tail had a glint in his eye that meant he was either enjoying Tammy’s show or Griffen’s discomfort.

Tink looked nervous. As if he would get blamed for the other changeling’s behavior. Tammy started to idly run a finger through Griffen’s hair.

So, Griffen thought to himself, this is what a gangster with a moll on his arm must feel like.

“So, Griffen,” Tammy said as the game went on, “I really like New Orleans. I was even thinking about moving here. Say . . . do you know where I might find a place to stay? Or, maybe have some place I could . . . sleep. For a while.”

No, if gangsters felt like this, they would shoot all the molls. Tammy was as subtle as a brick.

“I’m not sure that would be such a good idea, Tammy,” Griffen said.

Her hands tightened against him.

“What isn’t a good idea?” she said.

The card game had all but stopped. This was far better entertainment.

“Uh . . . would you excuse us? Tammy, can I talk to you, privately?”

“You can talk to me now! What isn’t a good idea? Moving, or being close to you? Don’t you like me?!”

He wished he had moved her away from the table earlier, but it was such a sudden shift that it caught Griffen flat-footed. He had forgotten how damn mercurial the changelings could be. And that last question was almost shrieked, and there just wasn’t any good answer to it.

Griffen, in the tradition of brave, i.e. stupid, men throughout history, tried to answer anyway.

“It’s not that, Tammy, but I already basically have two girlfriends as it is, and—”

It was not the time to think on whether or not Fox Lisa or Mai would mind the changeling girl for a night. Besides, with Tammy, he doubted it would ever be just “one night.”

“Two! Two?! Well, then what’s one more?”

“Tammy, relax, let me explain.”

“Explain . . . I thought you wanted . . . I thought we had . . . YOU BASTARD!”

Tammy slapped him, and it hurt. It actually hurt as if he had been hit with a baseball bat. He looked down and saw that her hand was the color of wood. Though there was a slight crack in it, and tears streaming down her face.

“Ow!” she said, whirled, and ran away.

Griffen instinctively started to rise and follow.

“Stop.”

Griffen looked over at Tink, who was shaking his head.

“I’ve seen her like this before. If you follow her, it will mean you love her, and you will never be rid of her.”

“I didn’t mean to . . .” Griffen said.

“I know. Nothing you did, or said, would have happened with a sane, normal girl. But our Tammy—she’s something special, even for a changeling,” Tink said.

He shook his head and stood.

“Cash me out, will you? I can follow her at a distance, and if she catches me . . . Well, it wouldn’t be the first time. Trust me, Griffen, you don’t want to follow, I learned that one the hard way,” Tink said.

Tink collected what was left of his stake and strolled out into the night. Griffen watched him go, knowing Tink was right but his instincts telling him what a brute and fool he had been.

“Relax, McCandles. That truly was not your fault. That one is unbalanced,” Lowell said.

“No one could have done better at that point. You made the right choices,” Margie said.

“Yeah, we spread it round. You in da clear. She just crazy.” Kane nodded vigorously.

Somehow that didn’t comfort Griffen. He could only imagine what the rumor mill would make of this one.

And he certainly wasn’t in the mood to play cards anymore.

Forty

Flynn knew there was someone in his room.

He had been out for an evening stroll, reviewing in his own head where things stood. Griffen seemed sufficiently distraught, the pressure of the conclave blending nicely with the pressures he had been heaping on. All that was needed was one last plan, one last push. Something from within the conclave itself perhaps. Flynn already had a seed of an idea, and the walk had been just the thing he needed for it to blossom.