Mai held an expression that indicated she was aware of being manipulated and not liking it one bit.
“Thank you,” she said. “Now, please, if anyone could point me to Griffen McCandles, I would be very thankful. We merely have business to discuss with him.”
A man spoke, one of those who had looked at Vera most intently. He and Griffen had only met in passing, but Griffen had heard that he had recently lost his wife. She had been a crack addict, and after her third time in rehab, he had lost her. Under the weight of whatever Vera was doing, his eyes glistened with unshed tears.
“Did you say Griffen McCandles?” he asked.
“Yes, I did indeed,” Vera purred.
Griffen braced himself for the end of the charade.
“Sure I know Griffen McCandles,” the man said, and took a long pull on his beer. “Man owes me two hundred dollars. I heard he had skipped town.”
Vera deflated, slumping, the smile falling from her face. With the change, the aura through the room changed, crashing back into a damp depression like that the group had when they first walked in. Only more intense. Griffen almost spoke out to stop the wave that passed over his bar.
“Vera,” Lowell snapped. “Enough, this won’t do us any good. We will simply meet with McCandles elsewhere.”
He reached out and took her elbow again. On contact, the overpowering feeling in the bar faded, receding back to the cloud hovering just over the small group. Not a few people gave unconscious shudders of relief, or knocked back drinks just a bit faster than they usually did.
Lowell pulled out his wallet and put a fifty on the bar. The bartender spared him another glance. He had kept an eye on the situation but hadn’t seemed to get captivated by Vera as some had.
“If Mr. McCandles should”—Lowell glanced at the man who had answered Vera—“return to town, please do tell him we came looking.”
“Sure thing, but you’ll be leaving now,” the bartender said.
Lowell nodded and hustled Vera out the door; the others followed, pale shadows.
“Fucking vampires,” Mai whispered so low only Griffen heard her.
Griffen jerked his eyes to hers, and she nodded. Suddenly a lot clicked into place for him. At least about the group. He had been told there were vampires who fed off depression and emotions and could influence and create those emotions. He never thought it would be anything like that, though.
“ ’Scuse me, lover,” Mai said. “Sandbox break. Always feel the need to splash a little water over my face after something like that.”
Griffen nodded, and she stood and walked over to the ladies’ room. He couldn’t remember ever seeing Mai that frazzled. She even stumbled and had to catch herself on one of the video poker machines. The player reached out to steady her, but she waved him off and went into the bathroom.
Vampires. They weren’t supposed to be at the conclave, and now he understood why. Griffen had seen some odd things lately, but nothing that had felt so… wrong. What sort of defense was there for most people against something they didn’t even realize was happening?
For that matter he still didn’t quite understand how the bar had reacted.
“Didn’t expect you to seem so surprised, McCandles. Not after being in the Quarter a few months,” Maestro said.
“What do you mean?” Griffen said.
“Hell, a group of outsiders come in looking for someone that they can’t even spot in a crowd? You think they are going to get an answer? The circle forms with the horns out, I know you’ve been told that,” Maestro said.
“Yeah, but I hadn’t seen it like this. I mean, that guy doesn’t know me from Adam,” Griffen said.
“He’s seen you, here and often enough. He ain’t ever seen them before. That’s all it takes down here,” Maestro said, then with a bit of a smile; “Of course, wouldn’t hurt to buy him a drink in thanks.”
Twenty-eight
Mose was tired.
He was tired more often lately. He hardly ever went out anymore. Even then, it was usually just for a stroll or a brief chat with old friends. He had fewer old friends around, and those he did have… Well, he had been in the area too long. They had gotten older; he had started old and stayed that way forever. Or so it seemed to them.
And that age? Mostly only showed on the face and hands. His body was still strong enough that he sure didn’t worry about his safety when he did go out. Sometimes he even left his gate ajar. Not often, he wasn’t often that stupid. Just if he got into a mood. In case someone should try something. A bit of exercise and entertainment. Oh yes, his body was fit, just tired.
There was no doubt about it, he thought wryly, his ass was dragon.
He did keep active though, in his way. It was just that as time went on, he had learned to conserve his energy. These days he had taken up drawing again. He didn’t think he had much talent, but a dragon’s eye and a few centuries of off-and-on practice can do wonders.
He was sitting outside, enjoying the late-afternoon sun, a tall glass of lemonade beside him and a small drawing notebook in his hand. He felt like one of those old men he used to laugh at when he was younger. Except old men in his day didn’t draw. They worked, hard. They played chess. Sometimes they whittled.
He heard the gate open and looked up to see Griffen coming in. The boy was one of the most powerful young dragons he had ever met. Stronger and more varied now as an amateur than Mose had been during his heyday.
Yet he walked toward him hesitantly, almost sheepishly. His whole body language was unsure. Mose had Jerome’s reports that outside, when dealing with others, Griffen was more confident. With his friends he was comfortable. When he had to, he stood as a leader, as a dragon among men. It was only with Mose, and from reports perhaps with Flynn, that he became more meek, nearly subservient.
All the more reason for Mose to back away.
“I started to use my key, but it was unlatched,” Griffen said.
“I like to let the sounds of the street drift in now and again,” Mose said blandly.
“Mind if I pull up a chair?”
“Not a’tall.”
Griffen dragged over the other outdoor chair Mose had for company. Mose would have offered him some lemonade, but it would have meant sending him in for a glass. Too much like sending him off like a servant for the conversation Mose suspected they were about to have.
The two sat in silence for some time. It was a comfortable enough silence, the sounds of the city a soft susurrus around them. Mose felt Griffen’s eagerness but wouldn’t rush him. He never rushed.
“Mose… you know why I’m here.”
“Yes, I reckon I do, but you are going to have to spell it out.”
“I know, but I’m going to have to do it the long way.” Mose nodded and eased back a little more comfortably. He smiled slightly. That was the way he would have done it.
“When I came down here, I had my doubts. Beyond my doubts about myself, I didn’t know what good I could do you. Or why anyone would want to pass over something they’d worked a lifetime for to someone they had never met. The idea that my heritage makes me somewhat more powerful than you doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. You were plenty powerful enough for this group; so is Jerome.”
“Jerome isn’t as strong as I am, Griffen. He knows it. Besides, you can take this group further than I could. It is good people, with good potential. They should be more than just New Orleans grifters.”
“Still, others could have led them.”
“You’re right, I have known dragons who fit the bill, ones I had more direct experience with.”
“So why me?”
“Hmm… mind if I go the long way myself?” Mose asked.
“I made sure I didn’t have anything else planned tonight,” Griffen said.
