Dragons Luck

Pieces were starting to fall together, but his train of thought wasn’t quite as true as usual. He kept getting distracted by details.

And Lizzy was hanging around, and George, and there was Mai. This was getting far too complicated. Griffen was already on a collision course. Flynn had given him enough pushes, enough pressure, enough distractions, that it wouldn’t take much more.

In fact, Flynn didn’t really need to be here anymore at all.

Flynn pulled out his matched suitcases and began carefully packing, hands still just a bit shaky from alcohol and fear. It was time he got back into his own environment. This conclave was nearly done. Griffen would either falter completely or hang on by his fingernails. Either way, he would be ready when Flynn decided just what he wanted with him. The next step, if he bothered with one, would be the last, and it could be handled by proxy.

After all, what else are lackeys for?

Forty-one

All in all, the conclave progressed quite well. To be sure, there were some raised voices and occasional ruffled feathers, but nothing out of the ordinary when people of differing opinions gathered for discussion. If anything, it was tamer than most bar gatherings to watch an NFL game.

It came as no surprise, then, when things went bad. It was a surprise to Griffen, but not to any of the attendees. To them, it was only a matter of time before something blew up. The only question was when and over what.

What was noteworthy, and therefore discussed long after the conclave disbanded, was the aftermath.

It all started innocently enough. Someone suggested a scavenger hunt, and the bulk of the attendees thought it was a fun idea. Griffen was hesitant, but finally agreed with the consensus, only on the condition that no laws would be broken by any of the teams taking part. He had taken part in some scavenger hunts back in college, and knew firsthand how raucous they could become if hard-and-fast rules were not established from the outset.

That evening, players were divided into two-person teams, and, following yet another suggestion, each team was made up of individuals from different groups. This was both to promote conversation between the attendees and to ensure that the use of their various powers would be kept to a minimum.

One such team was composed of Lowell, the main spokesman for the vampires, and a young shape-shifter named Gustov. Early on, they agreed that they were severely handicapped in the competition as neither of them was local, nor had either of them been to New Orleans before. Even though the list of items to be sought was not particularly difficult, without much knowledge of the French Quarter they didn’t even know where to start looking for half the items they were supposed to be seeking. As such, they decided they would not seriously pursue the quest but rather use it as an excuse to explore the Quarter a bit in the allotted time.

One item they chose to look for was an old LP record. For that, they wandered down Decatur Street toward the French Market in hopes of finding something in one of the small “retro” shops in that area. Unfortunately, they discovered that most of those shops had closed early, so they made their way leisurely back toward Jackson Square.

There were many interesting shops to catch their attention as they window-shopped their way along, and were both pleasantly surprised to find each other’s company both relaxing and pleasant.

As they approached the Square, however, Lowell noticed that Gustov seemed increasingly uncomfortable, constantly glancing ahead and obviously distracted in his conversation.

The reason for this soon became clear.

As they drew abreast of the line of mule-drawn carriages waiting for fares in front of the cathedral, the animals became noticeably restless, shifting their feet and tossing their heads. Their drivers, chatting in the shade, broke off their conversations to attend to the mules, glancing around to try to figure out what was upsetting them.

Realizing what was happening, Lowell gazed at the animals, then made a small, barely noticeable gesture with his right hand.

The mules immediately calmed down, their ears coming forward and their fidgeting ceasing.

Gustov gave his teammate a small, embarrassed smile.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Think nothing of it,” Lowell said with a shrug. “Is that sort of thing much of a problem for you?”

“Not usually,” Gustov said. “I live in a city, and there aren’t many domestic animals around. I don’t go to the zoo very often, though.”

They walked a few more steps in silence.

“Do you think you could teach me how to do that?” the shape-shifter said at last. “Calm animals down, I mean. I can think of times when it could come in real handy.”

“I really don’t know,” Lowell said. “I’m not sure how much of it is a learned skill and how much is an inherited ability.”

He glanced around.

“Tell you what,” he said. “Let’s give it a try and see what happens.”