Flynn let his guard down, slumping into a chair as adrenaline he didn’t know he had been pumping left his system. Unsteadily, he poured himself a tumbler of bourbon and sipped at it gently.
Despite the danger, and irritation, Lizzy had actually been right. Up till now, he had been a fool to focus solely on Griffen. Griffen’s strength seemed to be largely those around him, and Flynn had thought that he could strip that best by influencing the boy directly. When it would be so much easier to target one of them.
But not his sister. She was not an easy target, not if she sent Lizzy running. That was something he would have to look into. Someone at the conclave perhaps?
Pieces were starting to fall together, but his train of thought wasn’t quite as true as usual. He kept getting distracted by details.
And Lizzy was hanging around, and George, and there was Mai. This was getting far too complicated. Griffen was already on a collision course. Flynn had given him enough pushes, enough pressure, enough distractions, that it wouldn’t take much more.
In fact, Flynn didn’t really need to be here anymore at all.
Flynn pulled out his matched suitcases and began carefully packing, hands still just a bit shaky from alcohol and fear. It was time he got back into his own environment. This conclave was nearly done. Griffen would either falter completely or hang on by his fingernails. Either way, he would be ready when Flynn decided just what he wanted with him. The next step, if he bothered with one, would be the last, and it could be handled by proxy.
After all, what else are lackeys for?
Forty-one
All in all, the conclave progressed quite well. To be sure, there were some raised voices and occasional ruffled feathers, but nothing out of the ordinary when people of differing opinions gathered for discussion. If anything, it was tamer than most bar gatherings to watch an NFL game.
It came as no surprise, then, when things went bad. It was a surprise to Griffen, but not to any of the attendees. To them, it was only a matter of time before something blew up. The only question was when and over what.
What was noteworthy, and therefore discussed long after the conclave disbanded, was the aftermath.
It all started innocently enough. Someone suggested a scavenger hunt, and the bulk of the attendees thought it was a fun idea. Griffen was hesitant, but finally agreed with the consensus, only on the condition that no laws would be broken by any of the teams taking part. He had taken part in some scavenger hunts back in college, and knew firsthand how raucous they could become if hard-and-fast rules were not established from the outset.
That evening, players were divided into two-person teams, and, following yet another suggestion, each team was made up of individuals from different groups. This was both to promote conversation between the attendees and to ensure that the use of their various powers would be kept to a minimum.
One such team was composed of Lowell, the main spokesman for the vampires, and a young shape-shifter named Gustov. Early on, they agreed that they were severely handicapped in the competition as neither of them was local, nor had either of them been to New Orleans before. Even though the list of items to be sought was not particularly difficult, without much knowledge of the French Quarter they didn’t even know where to start looking for half the items they were supposed to be seeking. As such, they decided they would not seriously pursue the quest but rather use it as an excuse to explore the Quarter a bit in the allotted time.
One item they chose to look for was an old LP record. For that, they wandered down Decatur Street toward the French Market in hopes of finding something in one of the small “retro” shops in that area. Unfortunately, they discovered that most of those shops had closed early, so they made their way leisurely back toward Jackson Square.
There were many interesting shops to catch their attention as they window-shopped their way along, and were both pleasantly surprised to find each other’s company both relaxing and pleasant.
As they approached the Square, however, Lowell noticed that Gustov seemed increasingly uncomfortable, constantly glancing ahead and obviously distracted in his conversation.
The reason for this soon became clear.
As they drew abreast of the line of mule-drawn carriages waiting for fares in front of the cathedral, the animals became noticeably restless, shifting their feet and tossing their heads. Their drivers, chatting in the shade, broke off their conversations to attend to the mules, glancing around to try to figure out what was upsetting them.
Realizing what was happening, Lowell gazed at the animals, then made a small, barely noticeable gesture with his right hand.
The mules immediately calmed down, their ears coming forward and their fidgeting ceasing.
Gustov gave his teammate a small, embarrassed smile.
“Thanks,” he said.
“Think nothing of it,” Lowell said with a shrug. “Is that sort of thing much of a problem for you?”
“Not usually,” Gustov said. “I live in a city, and there aren’t many domestic animals around. I don’t go to the zoo very often, though.”
They walked a few more steps in silence.
“Do you think you could teach me how to do that?” the shape-shifter said at last. “Calm animals down, I mean. I can think of times when it could come in real handy.”
“I really don’t know,” Lowell said. “I’m not sure how much of it is a learned skill and how much is an inherited ability.”
He glanced around.
“Tell you what,” he said. “Let’s give it a try and see what happens.”
With that, he led the way across the street and up the ramp beside the Jackson Brewery to the Moonwalk. Pausing, he peered up and down the sidewalk that ran along the Mississippi River to the Aquarium of the Americas and the Riverwalk shopping center. The walk was well lit by mock gaslight streetlamps, but there were still patches and stretches of near dark.
“There should be… Ah! There.”
The vampire pointed at a rat that was snuffling around the litter at the base of a trash can.
“Now what you do is stare at it for a few moments to fix the image in your mind, then envision what you want it to do… like this.”
He stared at the rat, then made a gesture. The rat left off its foraging, advanced several feet toward them, then stopped, sitting up on its haunches.
“That’s neat,” Gustov said.
“Now you try it.” Lowell nodded, stepping back a pace.
The shape-shifter took a deep breath and stared at the rat. Several moments went past. The beast seemed to lose interest in them, sniffing the night air as if trying to locate a new food source.
“It doesn’t seem to be working,” Gustov admitted at last.
“Oh well,” Lowell said. “Maybe it is hereditary. Then again, maybe you just need to practice a bit.”
“What was that gesture you made?” the shape-shifter said.
“Gesture?”
“Yes. A little wave with your hand,” Gustov said. “You did it just now, and before when you were calming the mules.”
“Oh, that.” The vampire shrugged. “It’s just a way to focus your energies. You let the suggestion build, then release the instruction with a gesture. Watch.”
He stared at the rat again, then gestured.
The rat stood up on its hind legs and waved its forelegs as if it were dancing.
Gustov threw back his head and laughed out loud.
“What are you doin’?”
The two men looked around.
