"I will," Etienne said. "You'll save the ritual, Mr. Griffen. You'll see to it that dis city and everyone in it is protected from fire."
"I'll do my best," Griffen said. "Look, if I am wrong about these men, then you can blame me later on. If I'm right, then you have to admit that. In any case, I insist. You respect pure blood. I'm invoking it."
"Well, you don't have to put it that way," Callum said. "Of course, if there's going to be a problem, we'll help." The others chorused their agreement.
Griffen almost collapsed with relief. "All right, then let's discuss strategy."
"That was weird," Val said, as they waited for Doreen to pick them up on the curb in front of the Fenway house. Melinda had already departed in her chauffeured car.
"Are you all right?" he asked her.
"Yeah. I . . . have a lot to think about."
Griffen nodded. "If you want to talk, let me know. Excuse me, I have one more call to make."
He took his phone out of his pocket and dialed. "Harrison? It's Griffen. Stoner is in town. He didn't call you? He said it was a matter of national security."
Forty-nine
The deafening blare of horn music filled the street outside of Fafnir's den. A giant knight in silver armor over fifteen feet high was the first thing that met Griffen's eye. Only when he got closer, he saw the puppeteer underneath the mannequin's legs, as if he were giving it a piggyback ride. It raised a huge hand and saluted him. A huge green dragon, riding on the backs of two puppeteers, came over to menace the knight. Griffen left them to their game. In the street, hundreds of musicians in a rainbow of uniforms vied with one another to be heard as they tuned up. The smaller floats sat between the super floats. Each had a float captain who shouted at the riders around him to finish setting up and get on board. In turn, Mitchell, the parade captain, shouted at all the float captains through a megaphone. Hooks on each float were loaded with swaying hanks of necklaces. The weather prediction was for sunny but cool, in the upper fifties. Griffen was glad of his gold silk livery and the hearty lunch he had eaten. Both would keep him warm on the front of his float on a cool February evening. He went up the line looking for it.
He had not slept well the night before. Excitement and worry gave him strange dreams. He felt as if he were still in them, passing among crowds of krewe members in full costume, dogs dressed as dragons, and the giant heads on the brilliantly colored and neon-lit floats all looking at him with insane grins.
"Griffen!" Val shouted. She stood up on the maids' float and waved. Fox Lisa and Mai were with her. Their silk gowns and headdresses made them look like ladies from Castle Anthrax. "Good luck!"
To his astonishment, he noticed that Melinda was with them. They were all wearing earpieces. "What's going on?" he asked.
"I am mustering your secondary force, Your Majesty," she said. She pointed to her own float, which was next in line. "I will be able to hear you, but they won't. You were going to waste a valuable resource: these girls. We have made our own preparations."
"Good idea," Griffen said. Val was openly less hostile to her than before. He leaned close to Val, and murmured in a low voice, "Are you all right?"
"I . . . still don't trust her, but she treats me like I matter."
He smiled and patted her arm. He was glad the truce was holding. "You do. Good luck. I know you all know how to take care of yourselves." Fox Lisa patted a fanny pack slung over her shoulder. Griffen blanched. "You're not riding armed, are you?"
"No!" she exclaimed. "But I've got pepper spray. You never know."
Mai smiled at him. "Those knee breeches show off your calves, Griffen. You should wear them more often."
Griffen shook his head. "Next time I'm king, maybe. I'd almost rather wear a tux!"
A handsome white horse trotted up to them. Etienne was on its back in green-scaled mail and a helmet. "C'mon, Mr. Griffen. Get on board! We step off in less than half an hour!"
Griffen followed him to the front of the line, where the rest of the lieutenants milled around on twenty matching white horses. He mounted his float, which looked like the head of a dragon with its mouth open. Hidden inside the lower-front fangs were boxes of throws. He checked them alclass="underline" the shining metal doubloons, glittering necklaces, and stacks of The Flagon with the Dragon. He grinned and settled himself on his golden throne. Nothing to do now but wait and enjoy.
Antaeus had stepped off an hour and a half before. Griffen had been monitoring their progress through his earpiece. So far, Jerome had reported no suspicious activity or other dragons. Harrison had been in touch, furious about Stoner. It took a lot to convince him that Griffen had not known about Stoner's designs on the scepters all along.
Griffen touched the walkie-talkie attached to his costume inside the back of his belt.
"Antaeus, this is Fafnir. How are you doing?"
"Just passed Lee Circle," Jerome said, toggling his radio. He had a padded stool at the front of the king's float, handy to pass more throws from the concealed cartons to the King of Antaeus. He wore an all-enveloping robe of purple silk with a gold headcloth tied around his forehead with a green cord. The band behind them was playing an energetic rendition of "You're Nobody 'Til Somebody Loves You." "Nice night. Plenty of kids. Make sure you throw a bunch of stuff toward that hotel on the south side of St. Charles. There's a forest of ladders!"
"Everything's fine, Griffen," Cos Wrayburn put in. He stood tall in his leopard-skin toga, brown tights, and boots, a crown of tall crystals on his head, waving to the crowds with the mountain-topped golden scepter. He stood on a half dome painted to resemble the northern hemisphere. "Jerome and I are having a good time."
"Yeah, it's different riding in a parade," Jerome commented.
"Never belonged to a marching society myself," Cos commented. "Sounds like good people."
"They are," Jerome said. He liked the big man. They had had a lot of time to get to know one another since the parade mustered on the side street. "We have a get-together on Lundi Gras, next Monday. You ought to come along."
"I will! You come to our party, too. It'll be a blast."
Jerome felt rather than saw a dragon coming toward them. He turned around just in time to see a man with a long face in a pale blue polo shirt jump up on the float. It had to be a dragon; no one else moved like that. Even in twilight, he could see that well enough.
"Get off my ride!" Cos demanded.
"I am from the United States government. I am here to confiscate that scepter." He showed Cos an identification card with a badge. Cos studied it and started to hand the golden wand to him. Jerome stood up between them just in time. Cos protested.
"Jerome, he's the law."
"No. Grifter, we've got one."
Cos added, "Griffen, you didn't tell me we were dealing with US agents!"
"Cos, calm down!" Griffen's voice came from the earpiece. "Does he have a warrant?" Jerome repeated the demand to the agent.
"No, he doesn't."
"He's not acting on official orders," Griffen said.
The long-faced man was adamant. "I represent Stoner. Do you know who he is?"
"No," Cos said, his big face turning red. "And if he has a warrant, he can come and see me after the goddamned parade. Now, get off my float!"
Faster than one would have thought the big man could move, Cos grabbed the other's wrist and tossed him toward the side of the float. The agent recovered almost in midair and landed on the step just before hitting the street. The crowd cheered, thinking it was an act. He sprang up and made a grab for the scepter. This time, Jerome was ready for him. He rushed the man with his shoulder down and flipped him. The man rolled up and tried to make a counterattack, but Jerome knew more martial arts than just street fighting. The two of them traded punches, kicks, and blocks to the delight of the onlookers. Jerome panted into his mike.