knew where Lizzy was. If only she had reason to believe that this time there was a chance that things would be different.
She had spent a lot of time in the last day staring into her mirror. Watching the cuts on her face. It seemed that they almost healed as she watched, the speed of her flesh knitting just slightly slower than the eye could follow. As if she could watch for just a second more and actually see the change. But she always blinked eventually, and when she looked back… well, who could be sure?
So much for not believing in being a dragon. As if a brawl with a shape-changing psycho bitch hadn’t been enough for her. Something inside Val shifted suddenly. Her worldview, and self-image, changing ever so slightly.
They looked little more than scratches now, those cuts from those odd claws. She was tired of hiding. She needed to move, to walk, to center herself. Valerie hit the streets.
She didn’t think about where she was walking. She just walked, still sorting through her own thoughts and emotions. However, unlike her jog a few days ago, when she had tuned the world out, she only let part of herself sink inside now. She seemed almost hyperaware of the people she passed, instincts judging each for level of threat, and rational mind backing up the judgments with a second glance.
She was just so angry. Furious. On the brink of true rage, and the sad thing was that her anger wasn’t aimed toward Lizzy. She was angry at herself. Valerie always thought of herself as so strong, so confident. She had devoted a good chunk of her life to being as fit and competent as she could be. It wasn’t the fact that she lost that bothered her. It was how badly she lost, how little she had fazed Lizzy. She should have done something more, hurt her more.
Valerie needed to recenter.
She realized just where she was a few doors away from her destination. She hesitated for only a moment, then decided to trust her feet, trust her instincts. She walked up to one of the security doors that marked the entrances to the French Quarter apartment buildings and rang the top buzzer.
It was a few minutes before Gris-gris opened the door and looked at Valerie in surprise. She hadn’t even thought of what time it was, and didn’t now. She had her hands on his collar and her mouth against his before he could even say hello.
He still hadn’t had a chance to speak as they moved inside, the security door closing behind them.
Uncounted hours later, Valerie lay atop Gris-gris. She idly nuzzled at the hinge of his jaw and shifted her weight subtly, back and forth. Testing his… stamina.
Gris-gris moaned softly and ran his fingers down her long spine, tips of them playing against her tailbone.
“You don’t quit, do ya?” he said.
“Mnn, probably not,” she said, and bit lightly into his shoulder.
Other small marks, from harder bites, decorated his dark skin. Still moving idly, languorous, she slipped to his side, one leg curled around his. She couldn’t help gently licking at one of the half-moon-shaped marks.
Gris-gris reached down and gently cupped her chin, drawing her face to his. She was taller than him, but curled against him as she was, her eyes were level with his. Both pairs were slightly unfocused, heavy, but his also held a touch of concern.
“So, ready to tell me what was wrong?”
“You saying something was wrong for you?” she all but growled, surprised at her own tone.
“Meant before,” Gris-gris said. “When you came to my door.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.
She took her chin out of his hand firmly and rested her cheek on his chest. She didn’t feel like looking into his eyes anymore.
“Come on, Val. You never been like this before. All the times we’ve been together, you’ve been together. This is the first time I’ve seen you so… needful. Not just hungry. You needed to feel good, and you needed to get and keep control.”
“Are you complaining?” Val said.
“You know I’m not.”
“Then, hush. Just like a guy to ruin things with the wrong kind of pillow talk.”
She really didn’t want to go there. Especially since he was right. As soon as they were in his apartment, she had taken control and kept it. Not just control of the situation, but control of herself. She had almost hurt him with her strength when they first began.
What he’d missed was how much good it had done her. Controlling herself while abandoning herself, it had been a difficult balance, but it had given her what she needed. She felt herself again. Despite never having used quite these means to “center” herself before.
Gris-gris smiled.
“Well, damn, never heard that one before,” he said.
His hands slid to her hips, and, with gentle pressure, he rolled her over. She felt the line of his body press against her back, and craned her neck to look back at him. A gentle but firm bite on the back of her neck stopped her, and his arms wrapped around her, hands beginning to wander.
“Nnn… what do you think you are doing?” Valerie said, shifting against him.
“Shut’n up, ma’am,” he said. “But if you can’t talk with me, you might want to figure out who you can.”
Valerie started to answer, and it turned to a gasp. Gris-gris chuckled a satisfied, masculine chuckle. Then it was quite some time later before either was in a mood for thinking again.
Still, he had raised an interesting thought.
Twenty-two
More and more Valerie had been living off her own money. Ever since she started her bartending, she had paid for her own food and drinks and clothing and entertainment. She was actually damn proud of that. Before New Orleans, her lifestyle had been mostly supported by her uncle, just as Griffen’s had been.
Now the only thing she wasn’t paying for was the rent, which she could have managed if she switched from part-time to full-time. Of course it was nice not to have to worry about it, and she might end up working more anyway just to fill the time. Still, it was a good feeling to be self-sufficient.
It also meant she often lost track of just how much money Mose’s gambling operation had to be bringing in. Walking up to his home again, a private residence tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the Quarter streets, Val found herself wondering if Griffen had bothered to check into the figures of his new “business” partners.
Especially since Mose owned his place, the place they were staying, and who knows how many others. Not to mention seeming to employ Jerome full-time, and the shills, dealers, and others in the gambling ring to whom these were essentially part-time jobs. For an operation on the gray side of legal, or worse, it was amazing how profitable it all had to be.
Val pushed that thought aside. It wasn’t why she was here. In fact, she had been very careful to mostly stay out of the gambling side of Griffen’s new life. To her, Mose was a source of information on what it was to be a dragon. That was more than complicated enough for her tastes.
She had Gris-gris to thank for the idea. Mose was someone she could talk to. Not about everything, maybe. She didn’t trust anyone fully. Even her brother couldn’t be trusted sometimes. Like when it came to his not making a fool of himself. But when it came to dragon business, Mose was the top contact on a very short list. She had only waited for the last of the marks on her face to fade before approaching him.
She used the key she had been provided to open the street-level gate and started to Mose’s front entrance. Inside, she could hear the murmur of voices. The closer she got, the more she recognized Mose’s calm, quiet voice. The second voice was Jerome’s, and he was anything but calm.
“Damn it, Mose! I deserve some answers. I’ve earned that much,” Jerome said.
“That you have, son; that you have. But you don’t need them.”
