“I figure it had to have been fairly anonymous. Other than a quick tip over the phone, they should have been given at least a description of him, if not a picture,” he said.
“Very astute of you, but it doesn’t answer my question,” Mai said.
“And you did not answer mine…”
George trailed off as he saw her smile widen.
“Flynn hates vampires,” he said.
“Sort of puts him above suspicion, doesn’t it? Besides, who else is in town who might have done something to make me watchful for your presence?”
“Damn it, I knew I shouldn’t have left that card.”
George stopped and folded his arms over his chest. Mai leaned against one of the Quarter’s faux gas lamps. She kept her expression frozen, letting him come to his own conclusions.
“He really gets up my nose, that one does. Typical dragon, using even someone he hates because he can,” George said.
“Just because he has said he disliked vampires in the past, you think that means anything? Even if he was being honest, it would be much to his liking to put two enemies against each other,” Mai said.
“Which is, of course, exactly what you are trying to do,” George spat back.
Mai shrugged and waited.
“Very well,” George said finally. “If Flynn wants to play with vampires, it shouldn’t be too hard to get him stumbling over his own toys. But I’m doing this because it will irritate the overgrown set of matched luggage.”
Mai bowed her head without taking her eyes off his.
“It never entered my mind that you might be doing it for me.”
“Good. You won’t see me in the Irish pub again. Do not look for me elsewhere.”
“Why? Rumor had it you never hunted someone you didn’t have a contract on.”
“Unless I deem them a threat. Besides, so far I’m not truly hunting Flynn. But let us keep that between you and me.”
“Of course. If you’ll answer me one question.”
George paused again, considering.
“Depends on the question,” he said.
“I watched you in the pub, when you thought you were invisible. If a dragon is a dragon, why do your eyes seem to show you to be warming up to Griffen?”
He hesitated a beat too long, and Mai knew his answer would be a lie.
“All part of the disguise. I never assume no one is watching.”
With that he turned and, in an eyeblink, a large dog was running off into the night. Mai watched him go, extending her senses to the utmost to make as sure as possible that he didn’t circle around to follow her. When she could no longer perceive him even distantly, she started back to her apartment.
“Well, that’s him aimed properly, then,” she said to herself.
About a block away she paused and clenched her fists as a wave of frustration passed through her.
“And one day, I’ll figure out how the damned chimeras don’t ruin their clothes in a shift. All the bloody designer outfits I’ve shredded over the years… gah!”
Mai stomped the minor frustration off, and by the time she reached her apartment she was once again basking in a job well-done.
Twenty-five
Griffen had picked up a tail.
Thankfully, this time it wasn’t of the green, scaly variety. That had only happened a few times, and always unexpectedly. Being followed, however, that was becoming far too common for his liking. Since moving to New Orleans, he had been followed by everything from federal agents to a cockroach. Not that he was entirely sure there was a great gap between the two.
This was different, though. Even when Homeland Security had been keeping an eye on him thanks to the interference of a dragon named Stoner, Griffen had been able to identify his watchers with only a bit of effort. This time, try as he might, he had yet to catch a glimpse of whoever, or whatever, was following him. He just knew they were there. It was as if he could feel eyes always on him.
Whoever his tail was, they were disturbingly good.
He had first noticed it early that afternoon. He had gone out a little early to check his public mailbox on Royal Street. There hadn’t been anything interesting, and when he came out, he first picked up the “watched” sensation. Looking around, he saw no people paying him attention nor any cockroaches or big shaggy dogs.
Griffen was learning more and more to listen to his instincts and senses. Though he grew increasingly sure he was being watched, he didn’t really feel any sense of threat. To play it safe, instead of going home as he planned, he swung down to Decatur Street to check out the DVD releases at Tower Books.
His new stalker followed, Griffen was sure of that, but again he couldn’t catch sight of them. He picked up a few DVDs he had been wanting anyway and thought about some of Padre’s advice concerning tails. One line particularly came to mind—change your routine. So where Griffen normally would have taken a right on Chartres and gone down to his place, he went left and popped into a two-story bookstore that he was fond of.
Griffen thought maybe if anyone followed him in, he could catch them in the stacks. He waited and listened, but no one came in. Not once did the bell over the door chime. And still he felt someone was watching, as if someone were right behind him, breathing down his neck.
A bit nervous now, he touched the beads around his neck, the ones given to him by Rose. He was beginning to wonder if she, or one of her ghostly friends, was the cause for all this. But he had never felt her as a presence before. Always when they interacted, she was just there, seeming solid and alive.
Without really thinking about it, Griffen pulled a small book off the shelf and went to the counter. He hated leaving a place without buying something, and he wanted to maintain an illusion of a fairly normal round of shopping. Just in case his pursuer hadn’t yet realized that Griffen had noticed them.
By now Griffen was more than a little edgy. He really didn’t like the constant attention and intrusions that he had been forced to accept since learning of dragons. Keeping his route different from his usual, he headed over to Royal. He picked up his pace, hoping to force his watcher to do the same. Then he abruptly ducked into Pirates Alley, a narrow walkway leading to Jackson Square.
He stopped dead, hoping to catch whoever was behind him as they rounded the corner. His back almost against the wall, keeping himself shielded from Royal Street as much as possible, he waited, sure that he would at least get a glimpse of them.
And waited. Senses stretched to the utmost. Ears and eyes fixed intently, trying to take in everything in front of him.
…And waited some more.
Griffen’s shoulders slumped. Nothing, nobody. Not even a bug or cat or anything. He started to scold himself in his thoughts, sure now that he had just imagined the whole affair.
“Aren’t you going to do anything interesting?” a voice said, from a half foot behind him.
Griffen whirled at the sound. Later, when his heart wasn’t pounding away in his throat, he was sure he would be embarrassed by just how high he’d jumped. He had been so utterly intent on the street in front of him that he hadn’t heard anyone approaching him.
Of course, looking at him, he wasn’t entirely sure he would have heard anyway. It was one of the changelings. The young boy who even in daylight was androgynous enough to be mistaken for a girl. He blinked at Griffen with an oddly mixed expression, curiosity and disappointment.
“You’ve been following me?” Griffen said.
“All day! I figured a dragon would do something better than shop for movies and books. Don’t you do anything interesting?” the changeling said.
