Dragons Wild

Eight

There was a motel only a few blocks from where his sister lived. The clerk gave the crumpled back of his Sunbeam a hard look, but when Griffen carded over twenty-one and paid cash in advance there was no problem. His room was on the first floor on the back side of the long, low bulding. Throwing his bags on the floor next to a bed covered by a garish purple quilt, the young man turned and left the room. He should be tired, but somehow he wasn’t. He went back outside and paused in front of his room to just stare at the stars. They were reassuringly the same.

A chill ran up his spine and the hint of a sound caused the young man to look to his right. A figure a hundred feet away was silhouetted in distant streetlights. There was something about the way the man stood there that set off alarm bells. Griffen backed into a shadow near his doorway and watched. The dark figure paused and then took a few steps. It seemed to the young man that he could sense the dark man was smiling, but he was equally certain there was no humor in that smile.

Both stood perhaps a hundred feet apart and half-visible in the shadows of the badly lit back of the college-town motel. The sounds of traffic and a dog baying a few blocks away seemed to get louder. Then it happened.

For the first time, Griffen understood what was meant by a fight or flight reaction. The need to do something screamed inside him. The man, thing, dragon, or whatever it was, had seemed to be bigger and taller now. Without knowing it, he took a step back.

Then it hit him. If he was a dragon, there would never be a better time to become one. Which only left one urgent question. How did you change into a dragon?

He tried willing himself to change. Nothing happened.

So Griffen decided he would command himself to change, complete with a sweeping arm gesture. No dragon.

Risking closing his eyes for a moment, Griffen tried to picture himself as a dragon. “Be the dragon, be the dragon,” he intoned mentally, but all he got was the image of Chevy Chase in CaddyShack intoning, “Be the ball.”

Frustration led to anger. Okay, if he was going to get mashed by a massive supernatural monster in the back of a motel, he might as well go down fighting. He felt rage rise inside him. It seemed to take hold and his vision blurred. Everything was out of focus, and the sidewalk seemed to recede. He reached for the wall and steadied himself while desperately trying to see what his attacker was.

A car came around in the lot. The headlights speared brightly across the sidewalk and the man disappeared around the corner of the building. Then the lights swung away as the car pulled into a space.

Griffen slumped against the wall and discovered he was nauseous. After two tries the key worked in his door. Minutes later the shaking stopped and Griffen risked a look out the door. The parking lot was pleasantly empty.

Tired as he was, Griffen was far too wound up now to sleep. The surge of adrenaline from his mysterious encounter had left him feeling shaken and wired up. After checking one more time to make sure the coast was clear, he made his way into the motel’s lobby bar and settled in for a short drink and a long think.

Valerie was right, of course. It didn’t matter if Uncle Malcolm was crazy or sane about the whole dragon thing. If there were people out there who believed it and were ready to act on it, then he and Valerie had little choice but to take it seriously as well. The only trouble was, he didn’t have the vaguest clue as to what he should do next.

With school behind him, he had gambled heavily on getting a job with his uncle Malcolm only to have that crumble completely. Now he was homeless, adrift with all his worldly possessions in two suitcases, in what was left of his car. What was more, now he had Valerie in tow.

Hooking up with his sister completed the only agenda he had when he blew out of Michigan. Short of throwing a dart at a map, he had no idea of where they should go from here.

“Yo! Bartender! A Jack and Coke for me and another Irish for my man here!”

The familiar voice pulled Griffen out of his reverie and he craned his neck around to view the figure striding toward his table.

“Jerome?” he said. “Man! What are you doing here?”

The lean, dark man held up one finger signaling for Griffen to wait a moment as he detoured by the bar to gather up their drinks. As always, Jerome was stylishly dressed, with a tan sports coat worn over a cream-colored shirt with dark brown slacks that set off his coffee-colored skin to perfection. No matter what situation they were in when they ran across each other, Jerome always made Griffen feel underdressed.

Fast on the heels of his recognition, however, Griffen felt a sudden stab of suspicion. What was Jerome doing here?

They were passing friends on campus. Mostly, their relationship had grown from Jerome serving as his on-campus bookie on the rare occasions that he bet on football or other spectator sports. They gained a mutual respect for each other over the poker tables, as Jerome was one of the few that could hold his own against Griffen even when he was trying his hardest. None of this would help to explain what Jerome was doing here, hundreds of miles from their mutual stomping grounds.

“Here you go, Grifter,” Jerome said, setting a fresh Irish down next to the half-finished one already on the table and pulling up a chair. “Nice to know someone else who always drinks the same thing. Simplifies things.”

“Thanks, Jer,” Griffen said, forcing a casualness he didn’t feel. “I sure didn’t expect to see you here. What brings you to these parts?”

“Lookin’ for you, of course.” His friend smiled, leaning back. “Fortunately or not, you aren’t hard to find. We need to talk, my friend.”

Griffen’s head was spinning, and he held up a restraining hand.

“Slow up a minute, bro,” he said. “I’ve been driving all night and so I’m a little slow. Why are you looking for me, and what do you mean I’m not hard to find?”

“To tell the truth, Grifter,” Jerome said, dropping his voice, “after the word got out that you had turned Mal down, Mose, that’s the head of my crew, gave me a call and told me to look you up. Now, I remember you talking about your sister and her bein’ in college here, so I…”

“Hold it. H-o-l-d IT!” Griffen said, waving his hand. “Jerome, are you going to tell me that this is about the whole dragon thing? And that you’re one, too?”

“’Course it’s about dragons,” Jerome shot back. “And yes, I’m one, too. I’m way down on the totem pole from where you are, though. Near as I can figure, I’m maybe an eighth blood at best, which is pretty powerful for my crowd but nowhere near what you’ve got behind you.”

“Uh-huh,” Griffen said. “And how long have you known about this?”

“About you or about me?”

“Both.”

“I’ve known about it most of my life,” Jerome said with a shrug. “I was raised knowin’ it and expected to live up to it. Fact is, I’m slated to take over Mose’s business when he retires, or at least be the right-hand man to whoever does.”

He cocked an eyebrow at his friend.

“I understand that they kept you in the dark until yesterday, so I guess it’s kinda hard for you to get your head around it. Even so, you had the instincts and the moves as long as I’ve known you. Anyone who knew what they were lookin’ for could spot it.”

“So you’ve known all along,” Griffen said, not even making it a question. Somehow, his first drink was empty, and he reached for the next. “And you never said anything.”

“Not my place to,” his friend said. “I didn’t know what they had planned for you or how they were gonna go about it. Like I said, I’m just a little fish and I don’t mess with the big boys. I just did what I was told and kept an eye on you.”

“You make it sound like the only reason you were on campus was to keep tabs on me,” Griffen said.

“That’s about the size of it.” Jerome nodded. “To tell you the truth, Grifter, I’m older than I look. I got my degree a long time ago. I got sent there specifically to size you up and report back to my crew…and I’ll tell you, I wasn’t the only one watching.”

Griffen’s mind flashed back to Mai.

Aloud, he said, “But why, Jerome? I mean, even if everything you say is true, what makes me so important?”

“Like any longtime group, dragons have their legends and prophecies,” Jerome said. “Oh, they’re not written down or painted on some cave wall or anything, but everybody knows them. One of the long-standing ones is that someday a near pureblood will come along and change things for dragons forever.

“Now ‘change’ is a pretty nebulous word. It could mean for the better or for the worse. Of course, for those who are comfortable with things the way they are, change is something they look at with distrust if not outright fear. The odds of change improving things for them aren’t nearly as high as that it will really mess things up.”

In his head, Griffen was hearing his uncle’s words: They’ll try to recruit you or kill you.

“You may or may not be the one who’s gonna do all this,” Jerome continued, “but the legend’s strong enough that anyone with a stake in things is gonna want to check you out, then try to figure out how to deal with you.”

Griffen shook his head. “Let’s put all that on hold for the moment,” he said. “Now, what did you mean I was easy to find?”

“Like I said, I remembered you had a sister here, so that’s where I looked for you.” Jerome smiled. “Figured you’d want to talk things over with her once you were enlightened. After that, it was just a matter of cruising until I spotted the Goblin. Man, if you want to move around without bein’ noticed, you’ve got to get a different set of wheels. That ride of yours is way too easy to spot.”

While he knew Jerome was right, Griffen bristled at the thought of giving up his beloved Goblin.

“So it’s distinctive,” he said. “What are the odds of someone being in my vicinity to spot it if they don’t know where to look? If you hadn’t known about Valerie, would you be here looking?”

Jerome threw back his head and laughed.

“Man, you have no idea what you’re up against,” he said. “I said our crew was small and weak compared to the big boys. Let me give you an idea of what can be done. One of the top dragons on this continent is Stoner. You know what he does for his nine to five? He’s one of the high lords of the new Homeland Security. That means that if he wants, he can put your name, description, and the description of your car out on the computers as ‘suspected terrorist associate—do not detain but report location and movement’ and every cop and federal agent will be keeping their eyes peeled for you.”

An image suddenly appeared in Griffen’s mind. A picture of a state police car pulling up beside the Goblin and looking it over.

“And you can forget using credit cards,” Jerome was continuing. “For that matter, there are rumors that cell phones—”

“Wait a minute, Jer,” Griffen interrupted. “Do you know this Stoner guy?”

“Only by reputation.” His friend shrugged. “Like I say, we don’t travel in the same circles.”

“In your opinion,” Griffen said, “is he the type to arrange a car accident for someone he’s got a problem with?”

“That sounds kinda specific,” Jerome said, cocking an eyebrow. “Anything in particular you have in mind?”

Griffen filled him in on the morning’s highway skirmish.

“I dunno,” Jerome said when he had finished. “That doesn’t really sound like Stoner’s style. Dragons, particularly big ones like Stoner, tend to avoid open confrontations. Too high profile. I’ll tell you what it might be, though.”

He leaned forward and lowered his voice.

“Even though law-enforcement types are supposed to cooperate when called on, the truth of the matter is they don’t like anyone trespassing on their personal jurisdiction…especially not Feds. If Stoner did put out a tracker on you as a terrorist associate, I’d say there’s an even chance that while the boys in uniform would follow the letter of the law, they wouldn’t be above calling some of their buddies, maybe retired buddies, to take an unofficial hand. That would be especially true down here in the South. The good old boy right wingers would love to get a bead on a terrorist…especially since 9/11.”

“Doesn’t sound like someone who would slide a card under the door of my motel room,” Griffen said almost to himself.

“A card?” Jerome said. “You mean like a business card?”

“No, I mean like a tarot card,” Griffen said, and produced the card from the motel, which he was still carrying in his wallet.

Jerome leaned forward and studied the card, then leaned back with a scowl.

“I don’t know for sure,” he said carefully. “I just hope that isn’t what I think it is.”

“What’s that?” Griffen said.

Jerome shook his head.

“I think you should wait and talk to Mose about that,” he said firmly. “He knows more about that stuff than I do. Last thing I want to do right now is to give you bad information.”

“Speaking of information, let me ask you something else.” Griffen said uneasily. “When my uncle Malcolm first told me about being a dragon, he said something about how my secondary powers should be appearing soon. I think that’s what might have happened this morning.”

“Could be,” Jerome said. “Sounds like it took some pretty fancy driving to get out from under all that. ’Course, faster reflexes and above-average strength are part of the normal package deal.”

“That isn’t what I was talking about,” Griffen said. “I was thinking more about my temper. I mean, it should have been over, Jerome. I drove my way out and was sitting safe on the soft shoulder. I could have just let them drive away. Instead, it was like something clicked in my head, and I took off after them. I really don’t remember clearly what all happened after that, but one of them ended upside down on the median with the other backing up to try to help. That just isn’t like me.”

“I don’t know if dragons have tempers any worse than anyone else,” Jerome said, shaking his head. “The problem is, with their powers, they can’t afford to give in to it. You’d better start learnin’ to get a handle on yours, Grifter. If you start drawing too much attention to yourself, then you’re gonna have the whole pack of ’em down on your case. The one thing nobody wants is to have the humans get wise to the fact there are dragons walkin’ around among ’em.”

“Which brings us to another interesting point,” Griffen said, leaning back in his chair. “Or rather, it brings us back to the original point. You keep talking about Mose and your crew. Just what is it that you want, Jerome? You said he sent you to look for me. Is this another of those ‘recruit him or kill him’ deals?”

“Actually, it’s the other way around.” Jerome grinned. “It’ll be better when you hear about it from Mose in person, but the skinny is that we want to sign on with you.”

That caught Griffen totally by surprise.

“Come again?” he said.

Jerome laughed.

“Remember when I told you that the big guys who were fat and sassy with the status quo would assume any change was bad? Well, my crew have been bottom dwellers so long, we figure any change will have to be an improvement for us. Especially if we line up early on the side of the one doin’ the changin’.”

“But I don’t know anything at this point,” Griffen protested. “And there’s sure no guarantee that these so-called powers of mine are going to develop at all.”

“Mose knows all that,” Jerome said. “We’ve talked it over and we’re willing to take the chance. Look, right now there are a lot of things you need: a place to hole up, time to decide what you’re gonna do, and information to base your decision on. Eventually, you’re also gonna need some financing and manpower to back up whatever it is you decide. We can provide all that. All we ask is that when all is said and done, you remember who it was that stepped forward first to side with you.”

“Yeah, but what if I come up empty?” Griffen said. “Then you’ll have taken sides against the big dragons and lost.”

“We’re already pretty much bottom of the heap.” Jerome shrugged. “It’s kinda like an oh-and-twelve football team gambling on a new coach. We got nowhere to go but up. So, what do you say, Coach? Is it at least worth a listen?”

Griffen hesitated. Even if listening wasn’t an actual commitment, it was still a big step. Besides, he was feeling more than a little hurt that Jerome had initiated a friendship under false pretenses. It rubbed the wound of what Mai had done. A very fresh and raw wound.

On the other hand, what were his choices? Was he ready to face more shadowy figures in dark parking lots alone? He had just been considering the fact that he and Valerie had nowhere specific to go and no plan to follow. At least Jerome was offering a base of operation and even some financing. It sounded better than the alternatives…especially since he didn’t have any.

“Assuming I say yes…” Griffen said carefully. “What’s our first step?”

“First, I take you home to meet with Mose…and we’ll take my wheels. No, don’t worry about the Goblin,” his friend said, forestalling Griffen’s objection. “I’ll have someone pick it up and put it in storage. Even do a little body work on it to remove the evidence of your little skirmish. She’ll be good as new when you want her again.”

“Actually,” Griffen said, “I was going to say that we had to swing by and pick up Valerie on our way out of town. She’s in this, too. Not negotiable.”

“You told her about bein’ a dragon?” Jerome winced, then shook his head. “Well, I guess what’s done is done. You may regret it in the long run, though.”

“Why is that?”

“I keep forgetting how new you are to all this,” Jerome said. “Don’t tell her this, but it’s always been kinda unofficial policy to try to keep the females in the dark for as long as possible about the dragon thing.”

“How come?”

“Because female dragons have a bad rep. A real bad rep. Now, I won’t go so far as to say that all females, dragon or human, are uncontrollable, but female dragons tend to be wild. Dragon powers and short tempers don’t make a good mix. Remember how I said that dragons tend to avoid direct confrontation and high profiles? Well, it’s because when they do square off, folks tend to notice…like the Chicago fire and the San Francisco earthquake. Female dragons were at the bottom of both of those little news items.”

Griffen tried to imagine his brawling baby sister with dragon powers, and rejected the image with a shudder.

“That’s as may be; just now I’ve got a lot more reason to trust her more than you, old buddy.”

“Grifter, I’m hurt,” Jerome said, but his eyes twinkled. “You’re askin’ yourself if you can trust me. You’ve played me at poker, you know my tells. So ask what’s on your mind.”

“How much of it was real?”

“Is, not was. Griffen, my man, ignoring that it’s in my best interest to watch out for you. I like you, did from our first bar crawl.”

Griffen didn’t know what to say, but he remembered that night. They had been lucky not to end up in jail on an overnighter. It had been a hell of a night.

“And now here’s something to twist your mind around,” Jerome continued. “I know how things work, so I could ask, was I liking you, or was I under the influence of a dragon more powerful than I ever would be?”

“Huh. And did you ask yourself?”

“Nope, ’cause it didn’t matter. Sometimes questioning doesn’t help. Sometimes, Grifter, you just have to go with what works.”

Griffen thought for a long minute. Sometimes you have to go with what works. Made sense, and Jerome was right on one thing. He knew Jerome’s tells, and he meant every word. Instinct or dragon power, it didn’t matter. This was someone he still trusted.

“Okay, I’m in, at least till I’ve heard the pitch from this Mose.”

“Great! We’ll get your sister and get started. The less time we are here, the less chance of someone else finding you.”

Griffen nodded and finished off the remains of his glass.

“By the way,” Jerome said, “have you told your sister about that tarot card?”

“Only in passing,” Griffen said. “I really didn’t know what to make of it and neither did she.”

“Best not mention it to her again until after you’ve talked to Mose,” Jerome said. “And when you show it to him, do it sometime when she’s not there. Like I say, female dragons have a rep for overreacting.”

“You say we’re going to meet Mose,” Griffen said, trying to change the subject. “Exactly where is home for you, Jerome? You may have said, but I don’t remember.”

“Exactly where you need to hide for a while, Grifter.” Jerome beamed. “It’s got everything you need: nightlife, casinos, loose women, and it’s the absolute best place in the country to disappear and has been for over two hundred years. We’re talking about New Orleans in general and the French Quarter specifically.”