Free Dragons Luck by Robert Asprin

I’m above that. Any day she’s gonna get back to grooming me for the top spot…”
    Any day, like in the old days. Before things started getting… different. She knew Melinda was only biding her time. They were dragons, time was what they had most of all. All those other rumors… they were just wrong… stupid.
    “And now little Nathan has gone and found himself a tartlet! Thinks to give Mother a new daughter. Mother can’t have any more daughters. She can’t! I won’t allow it! I’ll find her, and when I do…”
    She drifted off again, lapsing into silence.
    “Two days… been here two days, and haven’t seen hide nor hair of anyone more interesting than a drunken monkey. I mean, really, what kind of dragon would come to this waste-land? One who is testing the limits of a regenerating liver? There is nothing to do here, nothing to see, and no power! It makes no sense!”
    “Dragon?” the bartender asked.
    Elizabeth looked up at the bartender suddenly, and he backed up two steps automatically. Her eyes flashed, and in the conflicting neon they seemed… fractured. Like a smashed mirror, different colors butting against each other without blending, the most vivid of those a violent purple that seemed almost to glow.
    Lizzy had never learned to control her eyes. Especially in one of her moods. Melinda always used to say, somewhat coldly, that she had her father’s eyes.
    “This was a good drink,” she said, still glaring at the bartender. “Nice mix of flavors. So I won’t drag you out back for a little light entertainment. Take care now.”
    She stood and dropped a few bills on the bar without looking at them. She started to weave her way through the crowd, making her way back to Bourbon Street. A few feet from the door, she stopped in her tracks and stared outside.
    Flynn was walking down the street.
    “Him?! Here?! What the fu—”
    She jumped midword. One of the men on the dance floor, seeing a seemingly drunken girl wavering on her feet, had stepped up and placed both hands firmly on her rump. His surprise squeeze had sent her nearly half a foot into the air.
    She whirled on him so quick that he didn’t have time to move back. With one hand she grabbed his wrist, fingers iron-strong and grip just shy of painful. The other hand reached out and slapped his backside, gripping just as firmly as he had. It was his turn to jump, but his eyes quickly went excited and smoldering, and a cocky grin started to spread on his face.
    His grin faded, and his eyes started to widen, whites beginning to show. Lizzy slid against him, hands still in place, looking to the world like nothing other then a girl cuddling up to a likely guy. No one could see the claws that had replaced the tips of her fingers, or the blood that soaked into the black material of his pants.
    She stretched up on her tiptoes to purr into his ear.
    “The word for today…” She paused, and her tongue flicked lightly over his ear. It was forked. “… is manners.”
    With that, she sank back down slightly, then brought her head smacking upward against his. He crumpled, and she left him on the dance floor as those around suddenly noticed a problem and rushed to help.
    By the time she had slipped onto the street, there was no sign of Flynn. She cursed and set out to search.

Twelve
    The cell phone rang. Despite the fact only half a dozen people alive in the world had the number, George had had a bit too much fun programming the ring tones lately. Especially after the last call he had received, “Murder by Numbers”—it had just been too much to resist.
    “Hello, Debbie,” he said.
    “Whoever invented caller ID really needs to die,” the woman on the other end said sourly.
    “You write me a contract on him, and I’ll be happy to oblige you,” George said.
    “Interoffice bribery is against your regulations.”
    “I thought we were beginning flirtation. Wouldn’t do that for just anyone, you know.”
    “Also against regulations. Now