Dragons Luck

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.

Then, a few feet from his door, he knew someone was inside, waiting for him. Flynn wasn’t sure which of his senses had provided the information, nor did he care. The first thing a dragon learned, a proper dragon, was to trust the gestalt of data that showed more of the world than any single sense. It was a trick that the young McCandles seemed to have grasped only barely, but then Flynn knew he wasn’t a proper dragon. Not yet.

Flynn paused for only a moment before opening the door. The matter was rather straightforward. If whoever lay in wait was in his class, they already knew he was in the hall. If they weren’t, there was no threat, and he might as well find out who’d had the stupidity to break into his room.

Of course, he hadn’t considered the possibility of someone in a class all their own. He regretted opening the door as soon as he saw Lizzy, sprawled on her stomach on his bed, flipping channels on his TV.

“A hundred channels, and the funniest thing on is the news,” Lizzy said, not bothering to look up at him.

“Perhaps you should go to a movie?” Flynn suggested.

“Hey, that’s a great idea!”

Lizzy bounced off the bed and was reaching for a tattered leather coat that had been draped on a nearby chair. Her hand stopped a few inches from it, and she turned back to Flynn.

“Say, that was almost clever. You are almost as good at glamour as little Nathaniel.”

Well, it had been worth a try, Flynn thought. Out loud he simply said, “Better, more subtle. But you are… difficult.”

“You’d be amazed how often I am told so. Hey, do you get pay-per-view in this joint?”

With that she was back on the bed, remote in hand. Flynn sighed inwardly and pulled out another chair, sitting with his back to one corner of the room. He watched her aimlessly flip through movie listings, feet kicking in the air like a child. The problem with dealing with Lizzy was he was never sure how much was insanity and how much an act. Mostly the first as far as he could tell. He had a much better time sparring with a professional like Mai.

With his expressions carefully schooled, he bided his time, trying to figure out what Lizzy wanted. He was still getting over the shock of finding her here of all places. Had his attention really been so focused on McCandles that a powder keg like her could go unnoticed? Or had she just arrived?

“Long see no time, or is it the other way around?” Lizzy said.

“Look, Lizzy, I told you before. I won’t help you start an ‘acting’ career without permission from your mother. I am not stepping sideways on her for you.”

“And anyone else who told me no like that would be dead before they finished.”

“Which you tried last time, so skip it,” Flynn said.

Flynn didn’t mention that they had both been lucky to walk away from that. He wasn’t used to such a… physical confrontation. Most dragons considered themselves more elegant than that.

“Mumsy still thinks that the limelight would be too much for her delicate daughter. She says it’s just better all around if Lizzy stays home,” Lizzy said.

“Safer anyway,” said Flynn.

“Exactly. Besides she wants to get her hooks in you herself. She says you go to all the best parties.”

“Ahem… so then what can I help you with?”

Lizzy sat on the edge of the bed and looked at him for the first time. Flynn found himself fascinated by the broken eyes and the confusing mix of emotions that played across her face. Anger, fear, doubt. And random sparks of happiness that gave her a smile so cold Flynn found his heartbeat increasing slightly.

“I came to kill Valerie McCandles.”

“I won’t even help you get out of your mother’s house. You think I’d help you kill someone?”

“Who says I need your help to kill anyone? Lizzy could kill the pope if she wanted to. Not a bad idea that, not bad, but I certainly don’t need some pampered agent to help me with a kill! Not me, not Lizzy.”

“Then what…”

“Because it’s all gone wrong!” Lizzy screamed.

Flynn was on his feet a second after Lizzy, but she already had him by the shoulders. Her fingers were hard and sharp, as if the bones themselves were hidden blades. Shorter than him by a good head and a half, she still lifted him a foot off the ground.

“Don’t you see? I took the shot, and now I don’t know if I can take another! I never expected this, not this. I just wanted her out of the family, didn’t want Nathaniel happy. Not him. And now if Mother finds out about her and me and it and I just don’t know what she’ll do.”

Flynn reached out, touch gentle but firm, and put his fingertips on the pulse of Lizzy’s neck and against one wrist. For a moment Lizzy rubbed her head down against his hand like a cat, shattered eyes fading to softer, gentler colors.

With the connection made, Flynn flooded her with glamour.

“Put. Me. Down.”

Lizzy screamed, and it couldn’t have been as loud as it seemed in that moment. No one came beating down the door. No one came to rescue her.

Flynn caught a brief glimpse of himself through her eyes, glamour wrapped around him and making him seem glorious and terrible. A pillar of shining light, of burning fire, perfect pristine water. Images mixed and cascading, and each beating down on her senses, coupled with merciless reflections of her pitiful, mad little self. His self-image and her worst fears, all feeding off each other and building.

Flynn smiled cruelly; it had been years since he’d had an opportunity to be so blunt. To really cut loose. As much as he prided himself on his smooth touch, it was occasionally satisfying to smash down like a sledgehammer. It was as if he were showing her a glimpse into the Devil’s own mirror, with him playing the part of both mirror and monster.

Lizzy fell to her knees, and the connection broke. Flynn needed almost intimate contact to maintain that level of power, and it always seemed to have a price. He purposefully didn’t look down at Lizzy as she trembled and sobbed on the hotel carpet. A dragon’s glamour was often a two-way street, and he didn’t want to know what would be reflected back at him.

“Now try again,” Flynn said. “You attacked Valerie McCandles, and she is still alive. Is the sister really that tough?”

Lizzy shook her head, but didn’t look up at Flynn again. Tears stained the carpet.

“Yes… no… she’s tough, but stupid. I could have taken her.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“I… I don’t know if I should. Don’t know if I want to. It all changed, in an eyeblink it changed.”

“How did it change, Lizzy?”

Now Lizzy looked up, and from her cold glare Flynn knew the last traces of his glamour on her had faded. Pity, too, it was the kind of trick that was only easy once, before the mind had built up defenses for it. Still… this was only Lizzy.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she spat.

Flynn shrugged.

“Yes, I would. I am honestly curious. But at least tell me why you came to me.”

“Not sure I know anymore, after that. Ah, yes, wanted advice I did. Can’t go to family, family mustn’t know, not till I’m done here and back home. Can’t go to locals, locals are the McCandleses, and their pets. But knew you were in town. Saw you, tracked you.”

Lizzy threw back her head and laughed, and Flynn felt mixed irritation and admiration. Irritation that she had known his whereabouts, and he hadn’t even gotten a call from his network of contacts about hers. Admiration that, well, he had never seen someone pick themselves up so fast after a blow like that. That laugh, as it flitted through the scales like an insane hummingbird, was also filled with her strength coming back to her.

Sure enough, she got to her feet and planted her hands on her hips, glaring at him and showing no sign that anything had just occurred. Idly, he wondered if she remembered.

“And what are you doing here? I ask to me. Want the McCandles boy, and completely ignored the sister. Misogynistic bastard. No wonder Mummy dearest runs circles around you old-school male dragons.

“Pot, kettle, black, my dear. You don’t want to kill Valerie anymore; that is fine. But you can still make her suffer. Turn your attentions to her brother.”

“Pot, kettle, polka dot!” Lizzy said triumphantly.

“I have no idea how to reply to that,” Flynn said.

“Good. I have no interest in the boy-child, or your prophecy, and don’t think I don’t know about that. Lizzy will do what Lizzy wants to do.”

“But you don’t know what you want to do.”

“I’ll figure it out and hang about a bit in the meantime. Maybe I’ll find a use for you after all.”

Lizzy stepped to him, reaching a hand out, and even though he saw the claws, he didn’t allow himself to react. Any reaction would just provoke her. She drew her hand across his cheek, down his neck, fingers sliding past the collar of his shirt to his chest.

Claws leaving a set of deep lines over his heart.

“Don’t think for a second I don’t owe you for that glamour, Earl,” Lizzy purred and tightened her grip.

Flynn felt the scrape of claw on bone, and still he didn’t move. She pouted some and stepped back, and the wound closed nearly instantly under Flynn’s concentration. He had always been better at healing than at glamour, but damn did that girl have some wicked claws.

She wiped her fingers delicately on his bedspread and stalked out the door.

Flynn let his guard down, slumping into a chair as adrenaline he didn’t know he had been pumping left his system. Unsteadily, he poured himself a tumbler of bourbon and sipped at it gently.

Despite the danger, and irritation, Lizzy had actually been right. Up till now, he had been a fool to focus solely on Griffen. Griffen’s strength seemed to be largely those around him, and Flynn had thought that he could strip that best by influencing the boy directly. When it would be so much easier to target one of them.

But not his sister. She was not an easy target, not if she sent Lizzy running. That was something he would have to look into. Someone at the conclave perhaps?

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?