Too late.
Tail spotted them and approached their table with a huge smirk on his face.
“Well, now we know what it takes to get our moderator to spend time with you,” he declared in his gravelly voice. “Just phony up a demonstration, and you get his undivided attention.”
Griffen leaned back in his chair and stared levelly at the intruder.
“You know, Tail,” he said, “as moderator, I try real hard not to let my personal likes and dislikes show or affect how I conduct the conclave. Some people make it harder than others. For example, I was just telling Tammy here that I thought that your interrupting and embarrassing her during her demonstration was totally uncalled for and made you look worse than it did her.”
“Really?” Tail said, crossing his arms. “Well, I suppose it’s as good a line as any to try to get into someone’s pants. Is she gullible enough to believe you?”
Griffen waited several moments before answering.
“Tail,” he said finally, “is there any particular reason you’re trying to be offensive and pick a fight? I find it hard to believe this is your normal way of dealing with people.”
“This is pretty much it,” Tail said with a grin. “Of course, I get particularly ornery around phonies. Take you, for example. Everyone’s walking soft round you because you’re supposed to be a hot-shit dragon, but so far you haven’t shown me much. I notice you didn’t favor us with a shape-shifting demonstration.”
“Like I said at the opening ceremonies, I was invited here as a moderator, not a participant or demonstrator,” Griffen said, trying to keep a grip on his temper. “This whole conclave is supposed to be about the various groups that were invited in. Not an excuse to show off dragon powers.”
“Isn’t that convenient.” The shape-shifter sneered. “Well, this isn’t an official conclave gathering. Any reason why you can’t give us a little private demo of what you can do?”
Griffen glanced pointedly around the bar.
“Several reasons,” he said. “The first is there’s a conclave rule against showing our powers in public, which I figure I’m bound to follow. This also happens to be the town I live in, which gives me an extra reason to keep a low profile. And finally, I don’t use my powers unless it’s necessary, and I don’t do sideshows.”
“You know, McCandles, you remind me of a good old boy back home,” Tail said. “He keeps sayin’ he doesn’t want to fight ’cause he’s afraid of hurtin’ someone. The fact that he doesn’t really know how to fight and is really afraid of gettin’ hurt himself doesn’t have anything to do with it.”
Griffen pursed his lips, then leaned forward, putting both his hands on the table.
“Tell me something, Tail,” he said. “When one of the loup garou changes, exactly how hard are those claws he grows?”
“Hard enough to rip up most any critter you know of.” Tail smiled. “Why do you ask?”
“Just wondered,” Griffen said, smiling back as he leaned back in his chair.
Tail looked at him for a minute.
“I don’t get it,” he said, finally. “What was that supposed to do?”
“Take a close look at the table,” Griffen said, giving a slight nod with his head.
Tail bent over and examined the cocktail table, his companions peering over his shoulder and Tammy craning her neck to see.
There were now ten holes in the Formica surface of the table, placed in two half circles where Griffen had rested his hands. The holes went all the way though the table and were wide enough they could see the floor through them.
“A word to the wise, Tail,” Griffen said softly. “Don’t fuck with me or any other dragon. When we get mad… even if we just get annoyed… we play for keeps. Now, I believe the door is that way.”
He turned his head and blew a smoke ring in the direction of the door.
The shape-shifters left without saying anything else.
Thirty-nine
Griffen was irritated. It took him some time to realize just why, but as the conclave wore on, he found his mood steadily declining. Not so much during the meetings and demonstrations, but after. During times and periods that should have been social.
He realized that the clique mentality of it all was what was getting to him. With little exception, like stayed with like. Each of the groups fractured into smaller groups, and little clusters wandered around the French Quarter, never mingling. Even if two different groups found the same bar, they would sit at opposite sides.
Only at conclave-sponsored events did any serious degree of mingling take place. The first that Griffen attended was a sponsored breakfast at Cafe Du Monde. He suspected that even then, most just showed up because someone else was picking up the bill. He had only shown up to make sure it wasn’t him.
Even then, it tended to be the lesser members of the various groups who showed up. The speakers and leaders seemed to avoid each other at all times. This was what was getting on Griffen’s nerves, considering that the whole function of this mess was, supposedly, to create understanding between groups. The hypocrisy was driving him crazy.
So he was pleasantly surprised to stumble upon a few of the major players sitting around a low table in the hotel lobby. He was further surprised by the cards in their hands and the piles of chips on the table.
A bit nervously he eyed the drinks as well, knowing that most bars clamped down on any gambling, but technically they were in the lobby. Someone must have been running drink orders to the bar. Either no one cared that they were playing cards, or someone had used their powers to keep the game from being bothered. Griffen knew he was simply happier not asking which was true.
Besides, he would never miss out on an opportunity to watch the group interact. Kane, Tink, and Tail he had some experience with, not all of it pleasant. The animal-control woman from Wyoming, Margie, was also playing. Next to her was Lowell. Two shifters, a fairy, a vampire, and a shaman. Playing poker. Oh yeah, no way Griffen was going to miss this.
He leaned against the nearest wall watching the hand. There was a certain amount of the cutthroat camaraderie that went on around most informal games. A bit of banter and conversation, most of it attempts to distract or gauge the other players. Griffen realized he played less now, despite running a gambling ring, than he had in college. Which was too bad, since he loved to play. Just watching one hand, he felt he knew more about these people than he had picked up in a half dozen encounters.
He was seriously considering stepping up to the game when Tail looked up and caught his eye.
“Do somethin’ for you, McCandles?” Tail asked.
“Just watching the game,” Griffen said.
Tail snorted, a disgusted sound that matched his souring expression. The others at the table watched the two closely. By now, everyone had heard about the incident between them.
“Just watching, not playing?”
It didn’t take a dragon, or a card shark, to figure out Tail’s motivations. He had backed down from Griffen, or at least that was what the rumor mill had turned the bar incident into. This was a chance to try to gain some face or make Griffen lose some.
If it had just been Tail, it wouldn’t have been a problem. Unfortunately, the loup garou Kane piped up in his mixed accent.
“ ’Eard me dis dragon he one serious cardplayer. Don’ know I wan’ him in dis here game.”
Tail turned his attention to the garou. If anything, his expression grew worse, almost a sneer.
“Wouldn’t worry about that. I don’t think ‘dis’ dragon is about to lower himself and play with our sort.”
The garou blinked as he considered that. His eyes narrowed a bit as he looked at Griffen.
“Dat changes tings some. You no play ’cause you too good for de game? Or de company?” Kane challenged.
For a moment, Griffen considered how to respond, knowing that a moment might be too long. Like at the poker table, any hesitation was a tell. Of weakness, of deceit, of anything. As fast on his feet as he was, he wasn’t sure he had an answer that would satisfy both of the shifters.
