Robert Asprin - Dragons Luck

Slim clicked his tongue. “I don’t quite have all the details. Got a panic call from one of the lesser wolves. They all sharin’ a couple of adjoining rooms there and he heard a snarl and sounds of a fight in the john.”

“Is that all?” Griffen asked.

“Well… he opened the door and said their leader had been attacked. By some ‘thing’ he said,” Slim added.

“Umm? ‘Thing’?”

“Yeah, here’s where it gets garbled. Couldn’t put together ’nough words for me to have a clue what he found in there.”

Griffen started to slow his pace to a normal walking speed.

“Slim, that doesn’t exactly sound like an emergency. By the time we get there, whatever fight happened will be well over.”

“Yep, you right ’bout that. Fact it was over when the kid opened the door. He just too far out of his depth not to yelp for help,” Slim said.

Griffen again noticed a bit of the disdain in Slim’s tone that he and the other animal-control people had for the shape-shifters. He didn’t have the time and patience just then to question it again.

“So why are we running over there?” Griffen said.

He didn’t say, tempting though it was, why the hell did you wake me?

“ ’Cause, the critter is still there.”

Griffen stumbled over the uneven sidewalk and almost fell. He stared at his phone for a moment.

“Right…” Griffen said, petty objections instantly fading. “Be there in five minutes.”

He closed his phone and took off at a faster pace. He would deal with the rumor mill later.

The Best Western was not by any means a high-end hotel by New Orleans standards. However, it was fairly cheap, clean, and could officially boast being inside the Quarter, even though it was on the very edge. Needless to say, Griffen didn’t have any problems just walking in and heading up to the third floor. In fact, he hadn’t even seen anyone behind the counter.

Slim had beaten him after all, and stood in the hall outside the room with one of the younger shape-shifters Griffen had seen at the conclave. He had never heard the young man speak. Like most of the lesser members attending, he deferred to his particular leader.

Slim was talking to him.

“Now, you stay out here like I tol’ you. No one, and I mean no one, comes in till me or Moderator McCandles says so.”

The young man simply nodded and crossed his arms over his chest. He looked tough, on guard, enough that Griffen had little worry that anyone would try to push past him. Still, Griffen could see the relief in his eyes. It was obvious he didn’t want to go back into the room, and Slim had come up with a good way to save face from outside.

Slim winked at Griffen and walked over to him. His expression made it clear that he caught the kid’s relief, too.

“You ready to face the unknown, Moderator?” Slim said nodding to the door.

“Doesn’t look like I have much of a choice,” Griffen observed.

“Good. ’Cause I can’ts wait to see what gots the pup all riled like.”

Slim grinned and opened the door. Griffen had no problem with letting him go in first. The bathroom door was open, but from the entranceway Griffen couldn’t see inside. He did hear the young wolf whimper slightly as he passed.

Griffen carefully closed the hall door before moving forward.

Before he took another step, a wave of stench rolled over him with almost physical force. It made him think of stagnant water and a men’s urinal that hadn’t been cleaned in years. He didn’t know for sure, but assuming garou had more acute senses of smell than most people, he understood more why one wouldn’t want to come back in the room after getting out.

Then he could see into the bathroom, and he couldn’t stop himself from staring.

Slim, standing next to him and staring just as openly, said it best.

“Sheee-iiit.”

The figure in the bathroom was big, a good seven feet if it stood up straight, but it was hunched over, its posture ape-like. It seemed to be made completely of plant matter. A swirling mass of bark and vines and moss mimicked skin. Grasslike hair spread in a lawn halfway down its back. Each piece of vegetation seeming to writhe of its own accord. It was constantly in motion even while hulking there. Algae spread over its chest bubbled slightly as it breathed.

Griffen couldn’t help noticing it had mushrooms growing between its toes.

“What is it?” Griffen asked.

“I don’ have a single clue. Somethin’ local, I think. Heard ’bout somethin’ similar. A spirit of the swamps,” Slim said.

“Somehow I don’t think spirit fits. Anything that smells that bad has to be mostly corporeal,” Griffen said, trying to fight off shock with humor.

Slim half started to smile. Then the street entertainer saw the body crumpled next to the toilet. It was the garou leader, his clothes ripped and a large green splotch marring the top of his head. He wasn’t moving.

Slim rushed forward.

The creature straightened, head brushing the ceiling and leaving a green smear. It swelled up menacingly.

Griffen put a hand on Slim’s shoulder and stopped him. “Ease down, Slim,” he said, keeping his eyes locked on the imposing figure.

“Are you nuts? Look how bad that monster beat him. The man might be dead,” Slim said.

“Funny you caring, Slim, but look again. The clothes are ripped only at the seams. I think our friend here is only responsible for the clout to the head. I take it an unconscious shifter reverts back to their natural form?” Griffen said.

“Some yes, some no. The garou and werewolves are said to,” Slim said grudgingly.

“I think he saw… this, and panicked. Started to shift, not thinking about what it might do to his outfit, and the creature reacted, just as it was about to react to your rush.”

Griffen finally released Slim’s shoulder. He hadn’t taken his eyes off the apparition in front of him. It had no eyes, but there were two dark blue flowers on what was passing for its head. Griffen got the distinct impression that they were watching him, appraising him.

Slim’s glance at Griffen was awfully appraising, too. “Damn, I heard dragons was fast thinkers,” Slim said.

Griffen would have responded, but the creature settled down and went back to its more relaxed slump. A deep gurgling built from somewhere inside. After a moment, Griffen realized that in a harsh, bubbling way it was beginning to speak.

“Moderator… good,” it said slowly.

“Think he means you is a good moderator, or that it’s good the moderator is here?” Slim asked.

“Both,” the creature answered.

Slim started, obviously having not expected an answer. Griffen could swear the fronds on the “spirit’s” face were twisting, smiling. It was disturbing and comforting all at once.

“Waited,” it said.

Griffen pulled up all his courage and took a step forward.

“Waited for what? Why?” Griffen said.

“For you… witness. Must be fair.”

It moved slowly, a complicated procedure involving all of its seemingly separate plants. Both Griffen and Slim had to hold themselves back from reacting as it bent over the fallen garou. Griffen watched closely, waiting for any sign of violence. No matter how unknown or dangerous the thing might be, he wasn’t going to let it harm an unconscious man if he could help it.

After a few moments it stood again. In its massive hand, it held the garou’s wallet. Griffen stared as it pulled out several large bills, then dropped the billfold next to the unconscious body. It held the bills to its chest, and they were sucked one by one into the ooze, disappearing into the depths.

Griffen couldn’t hide the shock in his voice as pieces clicked together.