Dragons Wild

“I think your band’s about ready for you.”

Nathaniel nodded to the stage, where the other musicians were indeed gathering. Kid Blue looked hesitant, casting a glance toward Valerie. However, he quickly shrugged again, and when Nathaniel finally released his hand turned back to the stage. Nathaniel leaned in to Valerie.

“Musicians, hmm?” he said.

“Oh, shush, I helped him move a couch.” Valerie turned back to her drink.

“How much did it move?”

“Oh!”

Valerie punched him in the shoulder, and it wasn’t very playful. He rubbed it and looked from her to the stage and back. By now the group was warming into their first number.

“Let’s leave,” he said.

“I can’t, not now that he thinks I came here just to listen. In a little while maybe.”

“I don’t want to stay.” Nathaniel leaned in to her, his voice a little more forceful than she had heard it before.

“Well…neither do I really…anymore. But it would be insulting, and maybe hurtful. We’ll just finish the drinks first.”

“This round, not the next.”

They looked each other in the eye for a long moment. Valerie shook her head, breaking the contact first. Then she shook it harder, almost as if clearing it.

“No, that really would be an insult. But only these two rounds.”

“Fine.”

Nathaniel sighed and leaned back, seemingly more put out than Valerie understood. He kept glancing at her a little oddly, but the booze and music helped ease them back into a cheerful mood. By the time they left, they were arm in arm.

Kid Blue watched them go, not even getting a wave from Valerie in parting. He shrugged, and started a blues riff for the next song.

Forty-three

Griffen opened his eyes, and instantly regretted it.

Despite thick drapes over his windows, light had pierced through. Not soft afternoon or early evening light either. The direct, harsh light of noon. Which meant he had only had about six hours of sleep, if that. What was worse, he knew he was fully awake, even if regretting it. He didn’t have a clue what to do with himself, but trying to force sleep was worse than useless. It wouldn’t have been such a conundrum if this hadn’t turned out to be one of the rare mornings he awoke alone.

So he forced himself up, and a hot shower took care of the last dregs of sleep. Surveying the fridge was nearly as hopeless as trying to sleep. Besides, his stomach wasn’t quite recovered enough from the night before to want food. What he really could use was the hair of the dog. Even if he didn’t usually drink so early, one glass sipped slowly would do a world of good. That decided, he headed out the door.

And back in the door.

“Shades, shades would be good.” He rubbed his hands over his eyes and went rummaging. Moving faster than he should have, he banged his shin on the edge of the coffee table…hard. Gripping the injured limb with his hands, he swore savagely. All he needed on top of his headache was…

He froze, looking at his hands. The scales were back. Remembering what Jerome had said, he forced himself to calm down and breathe slowly. The scales faded from sight.

He would have to be careful of that and work at controlling his temper. All he needed was to involuntarily shape-shift in a public place.

Moving now with careful deliberation, he located a pair of sunglasses and put them on.

Once he was better equipped against the noonday sun, he left his apartment again. On his way out, he stopped by Valerie’s door and knocked. He knew she led more active a day life than he did. He thought it might be nice to share a little company. Besides, she could help him find just what there is to do in the Quarter before five p.m. Unfortunately there was no answer, and he was left to hit the streets alone.

From Griffen’s perspective, the French Quarter by day was a whole new world. By the time he normally got out and about, galleries and shops were closing, restaurants had already switched to di

Bourbon Street showed some of the most dramatic changes. Oh, there were still tourists wandering in search of beads and booze. They were fewer, though, and seemed just a bit out of place. As if everyone else had gotten the menu of when the party started, and they missed the note.

What surprised him were the trucks. Bourbon was foot traffic only at night, so it was during the day that deliveries got made. Trucks delivering beer and soda, food and supplies, or just UPS delivering the occasional package were parked up and down the street. Strong men with pushcarts loaded with kegs and boxes moved in a steady stream, preparing the businesses for the night to come.

After a few glances into various bars and hot spots, Griffen decided against visiting the Irish pub. He didn’t really want to see it empty. Or worse, occupied with that certain kind of drunk who really had no place to go. Those desperate, lonely souls were depressing drinking company at best, and though they were around at night, they seemed to disappear into the throng. In the light of day they seemed more apparent. Though he didn’t really expect them in the Irish pub, he decided against taking the chance.

He wandered toward a little bar half a block off Bourbon. At night, it was a homey kind of place, full of service-industry workers, locals, and low-key tourists with more sense than most. He was curious, as close as it was to Bourbon, just what it would be like during the day. Especially since they didn’t serve food, so wouldn’t be attracting much of the lunchtime crowd.

It was empty. The music from the jukebox was turned down low, the twin TVs were muted, and not a soul sat at the bar. The daytime bartender sat engrossed in a novel. She carefully turned the page, put in a marker, and set it down before looking up. When she finally saw Griffen, her face split into an impish grin. He was so surprised he hadn’t yet managed a second step into the bar.

“So, what will it be, Big Brother?”

“Valerie?!”

“No, I’m her evil twin, hidden from you for all these years. You’re letting all my air-conditioning out. Come in and shut the door.”

Valerie stood and started to pour Griffen’s usual. He closed the door, and dazedly took a seat at the bar. As she put the drink in front of him she looked him over critically, smile fading slightly.

“Wow, I didn’t expect you to be near this shell-shocked. I’m going to be charitable and attribute it to a hangover,” she said.

“Well…that is part of it. Just surprised; why didn’t you tell me you got a job?”

Just what she needed, Griffen thought. A regular schedule. All the easier for an assassin to find her.

“Mmm, maybe because I just got it yesterday, and you didn’t get in till seven this morning. I thought sleep just might be a good thing before I joined the workforce.”

“Congratulations, Sis. I didn’t even know you were looking for work.”

“I noticed. That will be four-fifty for the drink by the way. And you better tip. I know where you live.”

Griffen couldn’t help but laugh as he pulled out his wallet. He watched as she made change, and had to admit to himself that she could probably make a killing at the job. Personality, wit, and tight jeans would pretty much guarantee her popularity, with local and tourist alike. Still, something bothered him slightly about the whole thing. She pretended not to watch him as he laid a few bills out of his change for tip.

He also quelled his fears, helped with a few sips of his Irish. The George seemed good enough to find her regular schedule or no. Not a comforting thought, though a little amusing. His personal stalker and possible murderer was professional enough he didn’t have to worry more. Griffen felt like toasting the irony.