Dragons Wild

Fifty-three

Griffen was still thinking about what Mose had said as he unlocked the front gate and let himself into the complex courtyard. Behind him, the now familiar sounds of the city faded. The clip-clop of a passing carriage being the loudest as he shut the gate.

It was true that he was pretty much running the gambling operation now. But did that really make him the local dragon? He had nowhere near Mose’s experience or wisdom. More important, on many levels he knew he lacked the confidence and his abilities to truly be a leader. The head honcho.

Suddenly, the lights in the courtyard, those fake gas lamps New Orleans was famous for, went out.

Griffen stopped in his tracks. He had been so absorbed in his thoughts that he had relaxed his now habitual scan for trouble or tension. This, however, was too blatant to ignore.

The courtyard was not completely dark. There was a bit of ambient light from the street, and a little coming from between the curtains of his upstairs apartment where he usually kept a light on in the living room, even when he was out. There was also one gas lamp on a post still lit, creating a ten-foot pool of light.

A figure stepped out of the shadows in the courtyard and into that pool of light and stood there, waiting. It was a short, slightly built man. It took a moment, but Griffen finally recognized him as the man who had been in the fight at the Irish pub the night someone had slipped the lime slice into his water back.

“Mr. McCandles? I believe we have some unfinished business.”

“And you would be the George,” he said, keeping his voice level.

The man bowed slightly.

“So you have heard of me. I was starting to wonder there for a while.”

“Is this it, then?” Griffen said. “The showdown at high noon?”

“Considering the hours you keep, I felt that the wee hours of the morning would be more appropriate,” the George said. “But basically, you’re correct. This is it.”

Griffen began walking along one of the paths between the flower beds, more to be doing something and to hide his nervousness than anything else. The George watched him, turning slowly to match his progress but not leaving his pool of light. There was something about the way that he watched; a tilt of his head, or the shine of his eye, or perhaps just his stance that made Griffen’s stomach knot. This man was a predator.

“Before we start, do you mind my asking a question?” he said. “Are you out to kill me, or just to test my powers? We never have been able to figure that one.”

“Does it really matter?” the George said.

The George made a gesture, a wave of his hand that struck Griffen as a bit too theatrical. Especially under the circumstances. Beneath the predator lurked a showman, and a cocky one at that.

The lone lamp flickered and blinked out.

“It does to me,” Griffen said, trying to adjust his night vision to the new darkness. “I’ve never killed anyone, so I’d like to know if I’m fighting for my life, or just to defend myself.”

“In either case, you’ll be defending yourself,” the George said. “If it eases your mind, though, I don’t think you can kill me.”

The voice had shifted locations, now coming from the shadows behind Griffen. The move had occurred far too fast and silently to be natural.

“How—” Griffen said without thinking, then caught himself. Now was not the time to admit ignorance. Too close to weakness.

“How do you think?” the George said.

The voice was at yet another place, closer, but not close enough for Griffen to find him in the darkness. The George chuckled, enjoying the chance to taunt Griffen directly. Griffen drew himself up, mind working quickly.

“Teleportation,” Griffen said. “Very impressive.”

“Over short distances,” the voice replied from a different pool of darkness. “It takes up a lot of my energy, so I don’t do it often. Though it did allow me to push you down the stairs and get myself in a position to see your face as you landed. It’s the simple things one enjoys.”

Again the voice shifted.

“I just wanted you to realize what you’re up against. I can also see in the dark better than you.”

Griffen fought back a surge of panic.

Panic doesn’t solve anything, and it can get you killed.

Mose’s words came to him as if the old man were in the courtyard with them. He forced himself to remain calm and to focus on analyzing the situation.

The George had picked the time and place for the confrontation, and was using the darkness both to conceal his location and to unnerve his opponent. Well, he wasn’t the only low-light specialist around.

Griffen let his own mind flow out, seeking for the feral cats that frequented the courtyard. He couldn’t see through their eyes, but could gain some awareness through them. And cats are aware of everything. He made contact, and reached out a gentle probe.

Uh-huh.

He turned his back on the direction the voice had last come from and spoke directly to a spot some fifteen feet away.

“You may be right,” he said. “Somehow, though, I expected something a bit more to the point than a game of hide-and-seek.”

There was a pause, then all the courtesy lights came back on, revealing the George precisely where Griffen had anticipated.

“If you will,” the George said with a shrug. His lips curled slightly, displeased with being so easily called out. “I’ve always had a weakness for the dramatic, and was a huge fan of film noir when it first came out.”

“That’s a neat trick with the lights, I’ll admit,” Griffen said, stepping into a clear space. “Is that another power, or do you have a mechanical gimmick?”

“It’s a power,” the George said, circling slightly to maintain the distance between them.

Yet, Griffen felt, he was also stalking him. The man moved liquidly, much like a cat himself. Though one larger and more dangerous then the feral cats of the courtyard. The whole time he maintained eye contact, and his lips curled in slightly mocking amusement.

“Like the teleporting, it’s only good over short distances and uses up a lot of my energy.”

“Feel free to drain as much of your energy as you want,” Griffen said. “I’ve always liked special effects.”

“Don’t worry. I have more than enough energy for the task at hand.”

The speed with which he moved was absolutely shocking. This wasn’t teleportation, just pure physical quickness. Griffen raised his hand to ward off the blow he saw coming, but it was a feint. The George’s other hand cracked in a backhand slap that rocked Griffen’s head back and sent him staggering back.

“My,” the George said, fifteen feet away again in an eye blink. He was rubbing his hand with a faint wince. “You are tougher then most of those I encounter. I’m mildly impressed.”

Griffen steadied himself, but he could taste blood in his mouth. A tiny trickle slipped from the corner of his lips, and the George nodded. Satisfied.

“First blood to me. Feel free to try a return blow.”

“And if I refuse to play your game?”

“Why, then this will grow tiresome quickly, and my temper will grow short.”

But Griffen hadn’t waited for him to answer. He reached out, and the George turned about at the snarling yowl of two scarred old tomcats that leaped through the air at his face.

His eyes widened, a mistake. Claws raked at his cheek, drawing blood, before he could knock the beasts aside. They landed heavily, and crouched back, hissing at him.

He hissed back, and they cowered more.

Griffen tried to make use of the distraction, rushing the George and swinging a blow at him. Again with greased quickness the George moved away, foot catching Griffen lightly on the ankle and dodging. Griffen stumbled, but not much and the George stepped away, bringing the gap between the two men wide again. Griffen brought himself back around as the George postured.

“Oh, very good, second blood and quite unexpected. Really, boy, I’ve known dragons three times your age who hadn’t done so much.”

“What are you, anyway?” Griffen said, fishing for information, and searching for tactics. The cats were no longer responding; they were closed off to him. “Other than an enforcer for hire, that is.”

“From where I stand, he’s dead meat,” Valerie declared loudly, emerging from the door of her apartment wearing a loose-fitting sweat suit. Her eyes shone with rage.

“Stay out of this, woman!” the George ordered, not taking his eyes from Griffen.

“Not a chance,” Valerie said, starting forward. “That’s my brother you’re smacking around.”

As she moved, she began to grow visibly until she was nearly half again her normal height. The sweat suit, first loose, now strained against her proportions.

“I warn you,” the George snarled. “You are not strong enough for this contest.”

Valerie came to a stop ten feet from the George.

“You’re probably right.” She smiled. “That’s why I brought a friend.”

From behind her back she produced the shotgun Gris-gris had given her. At her new size, it almost looked like a toy in her hand. Still, its roar was deafening in the silent courtyard as she fired it point-blank at the George.

The man was blown from his feet and went sprawling into one of the flower beds.

“Heard the cats. I’ve told you before, Big Brother,” Valerie called, “you worry way too much about fighting fair.”

“Val! Don’t…” Griffen called, but he was too late.

The George was on his feet standing behind Valerie. Grabbing the back of her sweat suit, he pivoted and threw her five feet into a wall. He snatched and wrenched the shotgun from her hand even as she flew. She rebounded and lay in a boneless heap on the pavement of the courtyard.

Griffen’s vision began to blur. He could feel his skin tightening and his muscles shift as blood pounded in his ears. He didn’t need to look to know his arms now had scales.

“She’ll be all right,” the George said, tossing the weapon away dismissively and turning back to his main target. “I don’t hurt bystanders. She’ll be bruised when she wakes up, but…”

With a roar, Griffen charged him……And the George was gone!

As Griffen lunged through the space the George had occupied a moment before, something struck him hard from behind, driving him to his knees.

“Sorry if it’s not a sword,” came the George’s voice, “but that would be a bit obvious to carry on the street.”

Looking back over his shoulder, Griffen saw that the George was holding a metal baton, one of the collapsible ones popular with some policemen. Turning his head was a mistake, even as he registered the weapon, the George’s foot slammed into his face and knocked him fully down, sprawling.

“I thought about the sword. I saw the little toy you use for your fencing practice. But, it would have been like daring an infant to attack me with a fly swatter. Hardly sporting.”

For a moment Griffen was held rigid with paralyzing anger. Again he felt his body tighten as fury changed him.

“Besides, it takes a special blade, and this really does more dam—”

With a snarl Griffen pushed himself to his feet, twisting toward his tormentor in the motion. Even as he turned, his tail lashed out for the man’s head.

His tail?

A surge of joy surged through him as Griffen found his powers responding to his need. The moment’s distraction cost him his advantage.

The George was gone again.

This time, the blow came low on his back, drawing a gasp of pain as he stumbled forward.

“See, thick skin doesn’t protect you from broken bones. Not even plated with scales,” the George said from across the courtyard. “You should know…Hey!”

Valerie had wrapped her arms around his legs from where she was lying on the ground. She tightened, so strong that the George’s face twisted with pain.

“You talk too much,” she growled, rolling like the athlete she was and…

…They ported again, both of them. This time barely ten feet from where Griffen stood.

He seemed to sag for a moment with exertion. Valerie grinned savagely and took the opportunity to wrap her legs around one of the trees in the courtyard. For a moment, they blurred, the George trying to port again, but only for a moment—he was stuck.

Fighting for balance, the George struck at her with his baton, she sagged, but if anything her grip clenched harder…

…And Griffen had him.

Taken off guard by the sudden violence of the attack, the George barely had a chance to give a yelp of surprise before Griffen’s hands closed on his neck.

The George’s baton went flying as Griffen lifted him bodily into the air, ripping him from Valerie’s grasp, and slammed him down on the walkway…

And he was holding a large spotted cat, a leopard, by the throat. Ignoring the claws raking his arms, he tightened his grip…

And he was holding a giant snake that writhed in his grip and hissed viciously. It bit into Griffen’s arm, but fangs could not penetrate scales.

Enough was enough.

Griffen took a deep breath, and exhaled a jet of his strongest flame full in the creature’s face. The creature redoubled its struggles, then suddenly went limp.

Griffen didn’t trust it, he lifted the beast and slammed it down one more time. Reptilian head knocking against the ground.

Releasing his fallen opponent, Griffen moved quickly to his sister’s side. She was just starting to stir, slowly trying to get her hands under her so that she could rise.

“Just lie still, Little Sister,” Griffen said soothingly. “It’s all over. Take a few to get yourself oriented.”

“Held on to the bastard,” Valerie said weakly, eyes flashing.

“Yeah. Yeah, you did. My Valkyrie.”

“I told you I don’t hurt bystanders.”

Griffen whirled to face the voice.

The George was standing in the center of the walkway, apparently unharmed. Even the scratch from the cats had vanished.

“I also said you couldn’t kill me,” he said, smiling at Griffen’s expression.

“What are you?” Griffen said almost to himself.

“The important thing is that I’m defeated,” the George said, holding his hands up, palms out in surrender. “The test is over, and you’ve won. Someone badly underestimated you…I suspect it was me.”

“But I…you…”

“As to the other, the current name for what I am is a chimera. That’s someone who can shape-shift into multiple animal forms, though you didn’t give me a chance to really show off most of them. Also, I have extremely rapid regenerative powers. As an added bonus, as you may have noticed, I’m fireproof. It comes in handy when one’s hunting dragons.”

“I see,” Griffen said, rising to his feet. “And after all you’ve been putting me through, including tonight, I’m supposed to just let you walk away?”

“I seriously doubt you could stop me,” the George said. “But tell you what. Just to save wear and tear on both of us, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll tell you one truth. If you agree it’s valuable enough, you let me walk without any further nonsense.”

“You mean like who sent you after me?” Griffen said.

“Sorry. That’s a professional no-no,” the George said. “But remember, you have to agree that what I tell you is valuable. Otherwise, it’s no deal and we’re back at where we are now. What have you got to lose?”

“Okay,” Griffen said. “Let’s hear it.”

“This is completely confidential, you understand,” the George said. “Just for you and your sister, since she got herself involved.”

He glanced at Valerie, who had managed to prop herself up on her hands.

Griffen nodded.

“All right, here it is. The whole George legend thing? How no one knows what I look like or how I do the things I do? It’s really very simple. I’m only one of a team. Together, we operate under the name of George.”

“I can see where that would give you an advantage,” Griffen said.

He now realized how the lime had gotten into his water back without the man he was facing having been anywhere near where he had been sitting.

“This could be important to you in the future,” the George continued. “As I said, the current contract is over. If someone decides to pony up to send us after you again, it won’t be me you’ll be seeing. Understand?”

“All right. Fair enough,” Griffen said.

“No!” Valerie snarled. “You are going to just let him walk?!”

She started to push herself onto her feet, size swelling again.

The George tensed.

Griffen put a restraining hand on her shoulder.

“Let him go. It’s not worth killing for,” he said softly.

Valerie looked him over, emotions warring in her eyes, but nodded grudgingly. For once the George stayed silent.

“Do you need me to let you out?” Griffen said.

The George looked at him with a tolerant smile, then winked and bowed, flourishing with his baton. He vanished.

Griffen shook his head and helped his sister to her feet. As the two of them walked back toward their apartment proper, Griffen realized that he was no longer lacking in confidence about his abilities and powers as a dragon.