Dragons Luck

“Tammy, please? Let’s make this as painless for everyone as possible,” Griffen said.

She hesitated long enough, eyes blinking rapidly and looking around the room in a near panic. Every instinct Griffen had said that she would say no.

“Oh, fine! I’ll go with the garou.”

Apparently his instincts hadn’t quite figured out changelings yet.

Almost at once the loudmouth garou spoke up.

“We don’t ne—”

“Only a damned fool turns down a fair deal, ya hear? I got any fools in my pack?” Kane stepped in.

“No,” Kevin said.

“Den you be nice to da little lady here. You listen what she say. Less you ready to challenge me for my spot?”

The garou shook his head and looked away. Kane looked at Griffen and nodded.

“All right, if everyone could leave except the speakers and Tail. Go decide who gets into the groups. And I will say this once, I think I have been fair as moderator. Anyone who breaks these rules, answers to me,” Griffen said.

The others nodded and filtered out. Tammy was the last to go, and threw one last disgusted look at Griffen before slamming the door. He shook his head and sat tiredly in one of the seats.

“Did anyone else see how to put a lid on that once they got the dumb idea?” Griffen asked.

The others all shook their heads.

“I’m honestly amazed you managed that much. It was far better than I could have managed,” Jay said.

“I real sorry it came to dis, but you did good as anyone in your shoes,” Kane said.

“This mess wasn’t my fault, and it’s pushing it to say it was under my duty as moderator. Tink excepted, if it hadn’t been for the garou and shifters classifying themselves as separate, I could have left this to you bunch to handle,” Griffen said.

“True, and we will watch over the bunch to make sure they abide by your rules and cause no more trouble than the Quarter is used to from nosy tourists,” Jay assured him.

The others nodded agreement.

“Well, I think this particular bunch of shifters are more talk then anything else, no offense, Tail and Jay. And just maybe the garou and Tammy working together will actually do some good,” Griffen said.

“I think dey just might, Grif,” Kane said.

“Yes, and I don’t think you have anything to worry about from Tammy. She seems to have cooled off,” Tink said.

Griffen sighed, and after a few more minutes found himself on the way back to his apartment. He didn’t feel much better for solving the crisis. In fact, he was pretty much where he had been a few hours ago. The slim hope that they might find something, weighed against the possible trouble they represented, just wasn’t worth it.

And, just to prove that Fate really did have it in for him tonight, when he made it home he was far too wound up to sleep.

Fifty

It was the night of the masquerade ball, and Griffen simply wasn’t in a party mood.

He sat alone in his apartment, fully aware that he was supposed to have been at the ball ten minutes before, helping with the final setup. Griffen had insisted that he should help, even though Estella had assured him everything was covered. That was all before Slim’s death.

Griffen had given his word, as unnecessary as it might have been, and now had broken it. Such a small thing. As if anyone really cared whether or not he helped hang a few streamers or carried a punch bowl. Yet he couldn’t help thinking about it. If only because it kept him from thinking of heavier issues.

No one had heard anything about the garou since they had taken off that afternoon. It seemed impossible that a pack of wolves on two legs could stomp around such a small area as the Quarter without anyone noticing, but that was exactly what they were doing. Either Griffen had underestimated them, or Tammy was helping with more than just tracking. The changelings were supposed to be good at hiding.

The other shifters had all been seen. They had been poking around the Riverwalk and the Irish pub, and had been wandering around the Canal Place shopping center last he had heard. They seemed harmless, and Griffen doubted they would be any help at all.

Harrison also had apparently dropped off the radar, but then that was normal for the detective. Griffen knew the deadline Harrison had given him was almost up, but didn’t know what to do. Their next talk would most likely be happening in a police-station interrogation room.

All in all, Griffen felt helpless. What did he know of murder investigations? Less than he knew about running a conclave, and look at the mess he’d made of that. He couldn’t even bring himself to attend the last event.

So he sat. Wearing a well-cut suit that he had last worn to a funeral. He didn’t even have a mask. Ridiculous; every other shop in New Orleans had masks. From Chinese knock-offs to local-made pieces so elaborate they were a form of art. Griffen hadn’t even bothered looking for one.

There was a knock at his door.

Griffen turned, about to tell whoever it was to leave. His words died as the door opened. As did his thoughts. His brain shut down for a few minutes. Proving that, dragon or not, he was still male.