Robert Asprin's Dragons Run (13 page)

“Why, we just scared each other,” she said. “I was coming out of the stall when this lady was trying to go in, and she made a little noise. I don’t see what all the alarm is about.”

“It sounded like a scream,” said a man in a bright red Windbreaker with the logo of the local television affiliate on it. He had a camera balanced on his shoulder.

“Did it?” Penny said. “I am so sorry to alarm everyone. Why don’t you all go and wait for me, and I will be right out!”

“Well, come on,” Horsie said to the press corps. “That little run got my blood pumping. No one had better fall asleep during the speech now!”

The reporters fell obediently into line and trailed after her, with a few shooting openly curious glances over their shoulders. Winston loomed behind them, ensuring that no one dallied. Fox Lisa followed them. Griffen went as far as the threshold and stopped, arms crossed on his chest.

“You, too, Mr. McCandles,” Penny said, sweetly.

“This is as far as I go,” he said. “I’m not going to let you out of my sight, in case this lady decides to assault you again.” Penny looked as if she was going to protest, but Griffen was adamant. “This is why you wanted me here, right?”

“All right! But not a word out of you!”

Griffen objected to the tone, but he nodded. Just when he was ready to give up on Rose’s assertion that Penny was in danger, this happened. He wondered how Duvallier had managed to conscript the notoriously independent Louisiana werewolves into putting out a hit for him.

The woman glared at Penny. “So this is the way you keep fait’ wit’ the loup garou? You cheat us blin’, t’reatenin’ ouah ancestral groun’s, den you get de big dragon out heyah to beat up a po’ li’l woman?”

Little woman?
Griffen thought indignantly, but when he opened his mouth, Penny held up a warning finger like Han Solo’s. She turned a sincere face to the loup garou.

“I told you that legislation to protect land takes time. I have to lobby my fellow officials to get a bill drafted and passed. That can get to be expensive. I told you that.”

“Yah, but six t’ousan’ dollah? Wheah we get six t’ousan’ dollah?”

Penny’s face could have been made of stone. “It’s just a suggested donation. If you and your people don’t consider that to be a fair amount, then tell me what you can give, and I’ll let you know what it will support.”

The woman twitched her skirt from side to side as if it were still a tail.

“Times is hard. We can affo’d maybe five hun’d. I brung it wit’ me,” she added hopefully, touching a pocket in her skirt. Penny was obdurate.

“Sorry. That’s just not enough to do what you are hoping for. I’ve told you, there are expenses involved in declaring your family’s land as endangered habitat. Pulling any tax-producing territory off the rolls has to be balanced by cuts elsewhere.”

“That’s all we got!”

Penny smiled apologetically. “Then it sounds like you are not as committed to the project as I was. I’ll be happy to accept it as a partial donation, of course. I am so sorry, Mrs. Lemieux, I have many calls upon my time. I need to concentrate on my local constituents, until and unless all citizens in the state become my constituents. When I’m governor. And I am sorry to tell you that then even six thousand dollars won’t touch the expenses I would be accruing to persuade my fellow lawmakers to deal on your behalf. We have so many other pressing matters. You understand, I hope? A small investment now would pay off handsomely later.”

The lycanthrope’s head drooped. “See what we can do.”

Penny beamed. “That’s wonderful. Get in touch with my assistant when you have a more concrete answer.” She took the woman’s hand in both of hers and shook it warmly. “Very nice to see you, Mrs. Lemieux. Come on, Mr. McCandles. I can’t leave those people waiting any longer.”

Griffen was appalled. Not only wasn’t Penny in danger from the lycanthrope, she was shaking her down! He started to speak, but Penny grabbed his arm and marched him toward the door.

The loup garou slunk out of the ladies’ room ahead of them and vanished around the corner of the building. She strode away with an easy lope that rapidly covered distance. In a moment, she was out of sight among the distant trees. A lonely howl went up in the wetlands, echoed by other, more distant wails.

“You’re extorting bribes?” he hissed.

“Is that what it looked like to you, Mr. McCandles?” Penny said, with the brittle smile on her face that he had come to fear. She patted her hair down with her free hand. “Why, you misunderstand what you heard. I was just explaining to that good lady the realities of introducing special-interest legislation in this state. That’s all. There are indeed expenditures that I must incur in the course of my duties. I am always happy to discuss such matters. I only wish that I could do everything that everyone asks of me. It’s just impossible. Once I’m governor, there will be more I can do. Now, you have the good sense not to discuss the private conversation you just witnessed, don’t you? Revealing it will just lead to so many complications.”

By the cold expression in her eyes, Griffen understood exactly what those complications would include. Penny let go of him just before the cameras turned toward her. She smiled and waved both hands at the waiting crowd. Griffen scooted out of the way, so he wouldn’t be caught in the lenses. Penny sauntered forward into a barrage of camera flashes. He was already forgotten.

Standing alone in front of the microphone, Fox Lisa shot Griffen a nervous look. He gave her both thumbs-ups and an encouraging smile. Fox Lisa cleared her throat audibly and began.

“Ladies and gentlemen, citizens of the fair state of Louisiana . . .”

Beside her, Penny stood, not a hair out of place on her golden head. Griffen stared at her in astonishment.

No wonder she’s called Bad Penny,
he thought.

When
Winston brought the limousine to a halt at Penny’s New Orleans headquarters late that afternoon, Griffen could not wait to get out of the car. It didn’t matter how much danger Penny might be in. If he stayed, he was going to say something to her he shouldn’t. He helped Fox Lisa to her feet and steered her toward the sidewalk.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“To get a drink,” Griffen said.

“Wait a minute,” Horsie called behind them. “What about our debriefing? I’ve got snacks and the makings for cocktails. You know I make one mean Sazerac.”

“No, thanks,” Griffen replied, with a casual wave. “I’ve got to get back. I have some things to check on. I haven’t got any useful input, anyhow.”

“But I do,” Fox Lisa protested. “Hey, take it easy, honey. I can’t move too fast on these heels.”

“Wait a moment,” Griffen said. He swept her up in his arms and carried her down the street. She laughed delightedly and wound her arms around his neck. “Whew! Good thing you’re light.”

As soon as they were down the street half a block and out of sight of the office, Griffen set her down.

“What was all that about?” Fox Lisa asked. She slipped off the tall green shoes and shoved them into her oversized purse. “Oh, my God, thanks be for all small mercies. I don’t know how Penny does it, day after day, walking on those spikes. Her shoes are about three inches higher than mine.”

Griffen eyed her bare feet. “Should I call a taxi?”

“Oh, no, I’m used to going barefoot. I’ll just watch out for broken glass. No problem. Let’s go. It’s not that far.”

Griffen grinned at her. One of the things he loved about her was that little ever seemed to distress her for long.

•   •   •

At
the Irish pub, Griffen helped Fox Lisa onto a stool on the family side of the bar and sank onto the seat beside her. The “No shoes, no service,” rule was relaxed for regulars. The bartender, a large, friendly man with a balding head, didn’t say anything about Fox Lisa’s bare feet. Instead, he took one look at them and poured an Irish whisky, neat, with water on the side for Griffen, and a beer for Fox Lisa.

“Thanks, Fred,” she said.

Griffen took a grateful sip of his whisky. The warm liquid rushed into his system like a fresh breath of life. Maestro, a slim, tawny-skinned man whose long salt-and-pepper hair was tied back in a ponytail, toasted him with a similar glass.

“Hey, y’all, we’ve got famous folks among us,” he said. He pointed up at the television mounted on a bracket high on the wall. The early-evening news was on. The announcer, an African-American man, looked over his sheaf of papers and said something Griffen didn’t quite hear, then his image was replaced by a long shot of the mangrove farm.

“There’s you,” Maestro said, touching Fox Lisa on the hand. “They’ve been running this clip over and over again.”

The scene changed to another angle looking up at her from the side only a few feet away.

“. . . I’m proud to introduce a real friend to the environment and your next governor, Representative Penny Dunbar!” On the screen, Fox Lisa moved aside to make way for the politician.

The regulars in the bar cheered. Fox Lisa beamed in delight.

“She worked really hard on her speech,” Griffen said. “She was letter-perfect.”

“You sound pretty professional there,” said one of the female regulars, a Creole woman in her fifties seated on the other side of Maestro.

“You wait, Ann Marie,” Fox Lisa said. “Maybe one day I’ll run for office.”

“Watch it,” Maestro said. “Lie down with dogs, get up with fleas.”

“Lie down with Bad Penny, get up with a communicable disease,” Ann Marie said.

“Hey!” Fox Lisa protested. “She’s good people.”

“Would you vote for her?” Griffen asked the others.

Ann Marie thought about it for a moment.

“Maybe. She’s done some good things. What about you? Tell me why I should vote for her. You’re working for her campaign.”

“No, I’m not,” Griffen said, hastily. “I’m just there to carry things for Fox Lisa. She’s the real star.”

“I heard some rumors that you’re getting in bed with the girl, that’s all,” Ann Marie said.

“He’d better not,” Fox Lisa said, patting her purse. Everyone on the family side knew about the pistol. They laughed.

“See?” Griffen asked. “Do I look suicidal?”

“No, but you look like you carryin’ too much money,” Ann Marie said with a grin. “Want to run some nine-ball?”

“Sure,” Griffen said. “Fox Lisa, do you want to play, too?”

“No, thanks,” she said. “My nerves are too rattled to hold the cue steady. I’ll come over and keep score for you.”

They ordered some food at the bar. One of the two pool tables in the room was open. Fox Lisa sat down at the table closest to it. Griffen set his drink down near her and racked up the balls on the green felt. Ann Marie had her own cue in the rack on the wall. Griffen didn’t want to go home for his good stick.

“Can I borrow yours, Maestro?” he called.

“Certainly, son. No charge,” the older man said. He came to sit by Fox Lisa. “You don’t mind kibitzers?”

For the first time all day, Griffen felt at ease. “No problem.” He turned to Ann Marie. “Your break.”

The slim woman narrowed an eye at him. “You’re so sure you’re gonna get a turn?”

“I sure hope so,” Griffen said, opening his eyes wide. “But you know, I’m just an innocent country boy, hoping not to get taken advantage of by those folks in the big city.”

“Well, I’ll take your innocence, country boy. How much? Fifty?”

“Sure.”

Maestro took charge of the bets. “Just so the money doesn’t get lost,” he assured them. Griffen laughed. He would have trusted any of the regulars with a million dollars in cash or his life. They were as good as family. Better in some cases. No one questioned Griffen’s working for the Dunbar campaign any more than they would object to an alternative lifestyle, and several were represented among the bar’s denizens. He ran illicit gambling. Tick-tock, a small, thin man with high cheekbones knocking back a shot of vodka, made a living playing saxophone on street corners. Miss Mercedes Bends, enjoying an Irish coffee and having an animated conversation with two men at the corner of the bar, was a transvestite. One of the men with her was a stranger who was visibly succumbing to her charms. Griffen wondered whether he should slip the man a word as to the nature of the tall, attractive lady in the tight, aqua blue minidress, then hastily remembered it was none of his business. The revelation might be a shock or a pleasure, but it wasn’t up to him to deliver either. He was wearing a disguise of his own if one looked at it that way.

The clatter and thump of the balls falling into the table pockets was as soothing as a lullaby. Griffen found himself getting into the rhythm. Ann Marie was good but not as good as he was. She scratched on the four and stepped aside to let Griffen shoot. He was feeling hot. The cue felt like a perfect extension of his hands. He ran the table twice, winning her fifty. Griffen retrieved his drink and had a sip of whisky.

“Nice job,” Ann Marie said, refreshing herself from her own glass. “Again?”

“Same bet?”

“Maybe I’m a fool, but yes.”

They racked up and she went first again. Griffen kept his distance while she lined up her shot. The unspoken rule of any pool game was not to crowd your opponent’s elbow lest ye be crowded yourself during a key shot. He’d accomplished plenty of jostles in his college career, both deliberate and accidental, but the mood in the Irish pub was slow and easy. Bloodletting was for tournament play, not casual games with friends.

“Hey, why’d you drag me away from headquarters so fast?” Fox Lisa asked during the third round.

Griffen grimaced. “I apologize. I just couldn’t take any more politics.”

“I might have liked to stay.” Fox Lisa tossed her head. “Penny seemed pretty pleased with my introductory speech.”

“Well, she . . .” Griffen stopped. Maestro and Ann Marie were pointedly not listening, but it was a courtesy. They could still hear him perfectly well.

“Was it something that happened in the ladies’ room? Did she say something that pissed you off? I noticed you didn’t say another word to her all the way back.”

“That’s it,” Griffen said, thankful for a plausible-sounding excuse. “I didn’t like the way she treated that woman.”

“The lo— I mean, her?” Fox Lisa belatedly realized they were not alone. “You didn’t like how Penny treated
her
? I thought she was threatening Penny!”

“Well, it wasn’t exactly how it looked on the surface,” Griffen said. “Penny was pretty harsh with her. She went away . . . really unhappy.”

The news did not have the effect that Griffen wanted it to. Instead of being appalled, Fox Lisa was enchanted. Her wide eyes sparkled.

“You mean Penny told her off? Wow! Really? Nothing frightens her, does it?”

“No,” Griffen said, grimly. “I guess not.”

Griffen realized he had made a tactical error. He had made Penny more of a heroine to Fox Lisa than she had been before. Instead of warning her off the candidate, he had made her sound more attractive than ever. He’d have to explain it more fully when he and Fox Lisa were alone. He played a couple of more frames with Ann Marie, keeping the conversation firmly on general topics.

“I hear Bad Beth’s at Yo Mama’s tonight,” he suggested. Both of them liked Beth Patterson, a local performer with a warm, husky voice who performed Celtic- and magic-themed songs at her regular shows. Once in a while, though, she assumed the persona of Bad Beth, who sang raunchy numbers and openly reviled the “other Beth” for being a straitlaced bore. “You always enjoy her shows. Want to go over with me later?”

Fox Lisa yawned deeply. “No, thanks. I’d love it, but I’m going to make it an early night. I’ve got work tomorrow. My boss let me have the day off for the drive to Arcadia, but I’d better be on time in the morning. I don’t think Penny ever sleeps. Maybe tomorrow night?”

Griffen ran through the calendar in his head and found a reasonably empty evening.

“It’s a date,” Griffen said. He felt a sudden craving for one of Yo Mama’s peanut-butter-and-bacon burgers. “Let’s go for dinner, too.”

“Sounds great,” Fox Lisa said. She finished off her drink and the last of her sandwich. Her eyes met his and twinkled mischievously. “You want to come home with me now?”

“I thought you were tired,” Griffen said, with a wicked grin.

She returned it. “Some things are better than being tired.”

He leaned over and kissed her. “I’d love to, but I’d better wait here. Jer is coming by for a last-minute confab before this evening’s games.”

“All right,” Fox Lisa said. “See you tomorrow.”

Accompanied by a chorus of farewells from the regulars, Fox Lisa went out into the night. Griffen checked the time.

“One more game?” Ann Marie asked.

“Can you afford it?” Griffen countered.

“Maybe
you
can’t,” she said. “Rack ’em up. I’m feeling hot.”

Griffen bent over to settle the balls, then removed the frame from the table. He stood back. Ann Marie glanced at him. She touched her neck and nodded her head toward him.

“You afraid of something?” she asked.

Griffen looked down at his own neck. Under his shirt he wore a string of red and black beads that Rose had given him. It had become such a natural impulse to put them on that he never thought about them anymore.

“They were a gift from a friend.”

Ann Marie lifted an eyebrow. “You have a good friend. He thinks you need protection.”

“She,” Griffen corrected her.

“Even better.” She shook an armful of bracelets at him. He recognized some of the symbols from his occasional browses through the local occult and voodoo shops and knew those were not for show. “Don’t forget to be grateful to the gods who look after you.”

Griffen spread his hands. “I don’t know how much of it I believe, Ann Marie. A lot of things have changed my mind about the supernatural since I was a child.”

“As the saying goes, son, it doesn’t matter if you don’t believe in God,” Maestro said. “He still believes in you.”

“You’ve got to find answers to your own questions,” Ann Marie said.

“I’ve got one if you won’t be offended by it,” Griffen said.

“Fire away, Griffen,” she said, with a laugh. “I can always whack you with a cue stick if I’m offended.”

“What do you know about zombies?”

“What we really believe or what we tell the tourists?”

“The real thing. I need to know.”

“Mind slaves? You can read up on that. I can give you the titles of some good books, and a practitioner or two who have had to pull a few unfortunate souls out of the hands of unscrupulous people.”

“I might have to look into that kind,” Griffen said. “You know about that truck driver who had the crash outside a few weeks ago. He doesn’t even remember getting into the truck. I’m thinking of the other kind. The, uh, walking dead.”

Maestro and Ann Marie burst out laughing.

“New Orleans is full of those, Griffen,” Maestro said. “This town’s too good to leave, even when your time is up.”

“I’m serious,” Griffen said. “Who can make that happen? I mean, life after death?”

“We’re serious, too,” Ann Marie assured him. “Personal matter?”

“Yes.”

“You being haunted?”

“Not exactly. Not me.”

“Okay.” Ann Marie thought hard for a moment. She and Maestro exchanged a glance. Their expressions were grave.

“Let me get back to you, honey,” Ann Marie said. “I have to ask someone’s permission before I can even give you their name. Give me a couple of days.”

“Thanks,” Griffen said. “I appreciate it.”

A trio of men came in, all African-American, all in their early twenties, wearing baseball jackets over the inevitable jeans and T-shirts. On the surface, they looked no different than any New Orleans citizens, but it was the way they held themselves, the way their eyes moved, that set them apart. Griffen recognized one of them. He put the cue stick down across the corner of the table.

“Hey, Anatole, where y’at?”

“Hey, Mr. McCandles.” Anatole’s mouth stretched in a smile, but it didn’t touch his eyes.