any big issues with the organization itself. Just some of those connected on the periphery,” Griffen said.
“Well, sometimes it’s necessary. Particularly if someone messes up badly.”
“What, no second chances?”
Flynn picked up his coffee and sipped, letting the bitterness roll over his tongue. He was more in the mood for that than the too-sweet beignets so popular here.
“Sometimes, depends on whether you judge a second chance will do any good. Sometimes you’ve got to know when to cut your losses. More important, you have to remember, as head of an organization, that punishing one person harshly helps keep many more from repeating their mistakes. Or committing worse ones.”
Griffen’s own drink and a plate of beignets came, and he reached for the confection first. Flynn watched him carefully as he bit into the corner, and a small cloud of powdered sugar rose. He seemed thoughtful, even moody. Or was Flynn projecting his own feelings on him?
“Tell me more about this policy you set and why you set it. Was it for your good or your people’s?” Flynn asked.
“I’d like to think both. I think you’ve heard something about the aftermath, but I decided my people either dealt drugs or worked for me. Not both. I didn’t want such a dangerous and messy business ruining the lives of those around me.”
“Sounds like a good decision though made more from a moral ground than thinking of the business itself.”
“Pretty much. Same reason I’m sorry to say I can’t take your advice on using the local druggies as security. It’s just too much like going back on my own word.”
Flynn nearly bit his tongue and had to keep from spitting out his coffee.
“What? After trying to help, you throw it back at me?”
“No, no, it’s nothing like that. It’s just—”
“It’s that bitch Mai, isn’t it?”
Flynn regretted the outburst as soon as he said it. Yes, he had been heavy-handed with some of his advice to Griffen, but never casually. This was the first move he had made that had not been at all premeditated. He saw Griffen lean back, his eyes narrowing.
“No… in fact Mai has never mentioned you at all. Where do you know her from?”
Of course, Mai wouldn’t mention him directly. She would use a cat’s-paw, if she were involved with this aspect of the game at all. Flynn cursed silently but didn’t let a moment’s hesitation show as he gave Griffen lies in the form of half-truths.
“I know her family, and her since she was little. She has never liked me, or liked my ways, I might say.”
“What ways would those be?”
“Mai has never been good at full honesty, at openness. Her nature is much more subtle.”
“Well, I can’t debate that. I don’t really know how much she hides.”
“Well, if I may… just how old do you think she is?” Flynn said.
“Good point. I knew her in school, but that’s also where I met Jerome. And I know he is a lot older than he pretended.”
“Griffen, maybe I’m speaking out of turn, but it’s my feeling you should know what you can about your allies. As far as I know, Mai is older than Jerome.”
“Still, Flynn, I just don’t think dealing with the local gangs is the way to go. They just don’t seem prepared to do anything but shoot at people.”
Flynn shrugged and kept the relief off his face. Two steps back, one forward. He rolled with Griffen’s change of subject.
“What about my other idea, some form of tracking?”
“It sounds good… but how would I pull it off? Somehow I don’t think I can convince them to walk around with transmitters in their pockets.”
Flynn cocked his head and reached out. His fingers brushed a set of small black and red beads woven around Griffen’s neck.
“The person who made these should be able to make similar. For one good at such crafting, it should be child’s play.”
“Really?”
Griffen took the beads off and ran them through his fingers. Flynn nodded and kept his smile easy and warm.
“Look, Griffen, forgive me for snapping. Tough day at the office, even though I’m not there. Actually, I kind of miss being there.”
“I do appreciate the time and advice, Flynn, it’s just I have to follow my own gut, too.”
“Sure you do, that’s what makes you a dragon. No harm, no foul.”
Griffen nodded and put the necklace back on. He reached for his wallet, but Flynn waved him off. Soon he was watching the young man walk off across the square.
He picked up his cell phone. Still seething, and needing someone to vent his anger on.
“Security? Flynn. I’ve changed my mind. If he throws a tantrum, shoot him!”
Thirty-six
Griffen had no idea what to expect from his first “official” discussion meeting at the conclave.
He had some assumptions, and some minor information from Slim and others about what would go on. What he really didn’t understand was what his part was to be in the whole mess. He was so new to things supernatural that he didn’t feel qualified to give an opinion on the simplest of matters. He certainly didn’t think he was a good judge or arbitrator of other people’s problems. Griffen hoped that things would go smoothly enough during this first meeting that he could more or less keep his head down.
The topic, as he understood it, was loosely categorized as information technologies. He was sure things would wander a bit around the topic, but the crux of the discussion was to be geared toward a single issue. Someone had proposed that a database be set up listing all known willing supernatural entities and their general locations and territories.
It seemed simple enough, a source of information on who was where and who was near enough to call on for help in times of crisis. Still, Griffen had a growing suspicion in his gut that things would be anything but easy.
The room itself was like conference rooms everywhere. A long table, chairs, pitchers of water, and glasses. Though there were only a few chairs at the table itself. Behind each seat at the table were several chairs, and as people started filing in, Griffen saw what he expected would become a familiar pattern.
The speakers, for lack of a better word, sat at the table. Their groups and advisors sat behind them. Already there was whispering going on as a speaker would lean back to consult the others. Though there were no rules against anyone speaking their mind, it seemed the majority would speak through their leaders.
Griffen had purposefully not sat at the head of the table but closer to the middle of it. If he was going to do any good at all, he figured he would have to be in the thick of things. This was not about power games. At least, not yet.
When it was all said and done, sitting at the table were Griffen, Estella, Slim, Jay, Lowell, Tink, and three people Griffen hadn’t met yet. One he knew from sight was the leader of the garou, who was sitting directly opposite Jay and the other shifters. He went by the name of Kane. The other two Slim had mentioned were representing more-scattered and less-represented groups.
One, a stout woman with laughter lines around her eyes, was a wiccan named Gada. She was speaking largely for the collected human religious types other than the voodoo. The last was the one who had proposed the
