Dragons Luck

Forty-nine

All good ideas get screwed up in committee.

There were multiple reasons the conclave utilized speakers for each of the groups, and those representatives were not chosen at random. Simply put, some of the members of the conclave weren’t the sharpest. Not to mention well behaved.

Rumor already ran rampant among the lesser members attending. They debated back and forth constantly. Was Griffen guilty? I

Within hours of the impromptu decision to investigate the murder independent of the police, everyone knew. No one quite knew how the rumor leaked so fast, though a few of the vampires were likely candidates. They had been stirring up the discussion and sitting back with happy smiles as the emotions flared.

However, Tail, whether he knew it or not, was part of what made it worse. He had, in effect, spoken for the shifters on how they could, or would, help such an investigation. It was a small thing, but he had gone over Jay’s head. Jay, the chosen representative. Any other time, it would have been no problem. But when things are unstable, a bubble of vacuum in the power structure, no matter how small, can be a catalyst.

Griffen didn’t know any of this. All he knew was he had been called in, again. And once again, he had to leave his home and rush over to deal with conclave matters. At four in the morning, because some young shifter had decked one of the garou.

Griffen nodded to the desk clerk, who looked dead on his feet and barely managed to wave. Then he braced himself and walked down to one of the conference rooms. Whether it was the hour, or some weeding had been done before he got there, he was happy to see that there were only about a dozen people in the room. Jay, Tink, Tail, and Kane were seated. He almost missed Tammy, who sort of huddled in one corner away from everyone. Standing at opposite ends of the room were a group of shifters and all of Kane’s garou. One of the garou, Kevin from the demonstration, had tissue stuffed up a nose that looked as if it had recently been broken. Griffen couldn’t tell at a glance who his opponent had been.

Small group or not, they all started talking at once as he came in. Except Tammy, who merely glared sullenly at him. It was loud enough, and he had enough lack of sleep that he almost shouted back, but figured it would only make his head throb more. Griffen waved them all silent.

Basking in the silence for a moment, he tried to decide who to ask for information. It wasn’t easy, tempers being what they were. Griffen was too tired to want to deal with any more unintended insults. He turned to the wounded garou, Kevin.

“What happened?” Griffen said.

“Got hit,” Kevin said.

Griffen fought the impulse to throttle the life out of him.

“A little more detail please,” Griffen said.

“Well, we was talking about the investigation. And he said we couldn’t do it. Said we needed some fairy to bail us out.”

Griffen blinked and tried to rub some of the sleep from his eyes.

“What investigation?”

Kevin looked at him as if he were crazy.

“Us findin’ out who killed Slim, of course,” he said.

“I done tol’ you, ain’t go

“You mean it’s true!? You trust the fairies instead of your pack?” Kevin said, shocked.

“No, it ain’t like dat, boy…” Kane said.

One of the shifters, whom Griffen didn’t know, spoke up.

“How come Tail is talking for us now? Why is he stepping on Jay’s toes and keeping us out of things?”

“I only said that we aren’t trackers like that,” Tail said.

“Which we?!” another shifter demanded.

“Packless riffraff,” one of the garou muttered.

Several people started to talk at once, along the lines of traditional prefight rituals such as “What did you say?” A few of the garou and shifters took a step forward. Nails were starting to grow into claws.

“Hold it!” Griffen shouted.

He brought his fist down on the table, then had to recover as it went through the oak and he nearly lost his balance. He stood, trying to regain his control, watching his own claws fade away.

When he spoke again, it was dangerously soft.

“Tink, what are they talking about?”

Tink looked uncomfortable, and his eyes kept flicking to the damaged table.

“Well, it was maybe suggested that we do some investigating without the police knowing. See if we can’t find out what really happened. There was some question as to whether any shifter could do any good, and I suggested maybe Tammy could try to help.”

Griffen glanced at Tammy, but she seemed to have no comment to make. She crossed her arms over her small breasts and looked away from him.

“And no one thought about checking with me before sending packs of vigilantes through my town?” Griffen demanded.

“It wasn’t like that. We weren’t going to hunt that way. The rumors just sort of blew things up,” Tail said.

“We won’t be cut out,” the young shifter said.

“No one is cutting anyone out, this isn’t a game,” Tail said.

“You don’t speak for us, old man.”

Tail bared his teeth in an expression that no one would confuse with a smile. Griffen hadn’t seen anything like them before; they were all pointed and jagged, almost like a shark’s.

Jay put a restraining hand on his shoulder.

“I do speak for you, at least at this conclave,” Jay said.

The other shifter backed down, but the garou stepped up. “We don’t need a fairy to hunt for us.”

Some people, Griffen thought, have little survival instinct. Still, he was curious. After his talks with Harrison, he needed some help. He thought he would toss the idea around a bit.

“Really? You can find and track a scent, in a well-traveled public place, without knowing anything but it will cross Slim’s and maybe have a little blood spoor on it?” Griffen asked.

“Well… we could try,” said the garou.

“Werewolves. We can do it,” said one of the shifters.

“Oh? What’s your specialty?” Griffen said.

“Uh… I mean ‘we’ as a group.”

“You think like a group now? Things must have changed drastically this afternoon. Evolution at work, I suppose. Still, I’m curious. Always trying to learn, that’s me. What type of shifting do you do?” Griffen said.

“I can change my density,” the shifter said, and hung his head, his cheeks flushing red.

“That counts as shape-shifting, does it?”

Griffen realized he was feeling more than a little nasty and indulging the feeling too much. He moved on.

“Still, that doesn’t seem to be a lot of help in a murder investigation,” Griffen observed.

There were a few moments of awkward silence. Another shifter, Gustov, the one who had demonstrated with Kevin, spoke softly.

“Mr. McCandles, sir. If they want to help, can you… no, will you really stop them?”

Griffen stopped his knee-jerk reaction. Not only was he already getting a bad reputation, but that had been the most polite voice so far in the meeting. Griffen wanted to say it sounded like it would cause more trouble than it could possibly solve, but that would anger pretty much everyone. He was really begi

He looked at the major players and saw reactions similar to his own thinking. None of them knew of a way out of this other than an iron fist. And the sad thing was, whatever the motivations behind it, these were people talking about helping Griffen. In their own backasswards way, they were trying to do good.

“If, and I mean if, I say go ahead with this nonsense, there will be some very clear rules. No public shifting or visible powers. No hassling locals or tourists. No more infighting. And if, God forbid, any of you encounter the police, you will be polite, helpful, fully responsive, and not have this come crashing down on everyone’s head.”