"Not my destiny," Griffen protested. "Just because you dreamed something doesn't mean it's going to come true. I don't have to follow what you think you know. The future's malleable."

"Not so much as you tink it is," Etienne replied with an assurance that roused ire in Griffen.

"Why should I do it?" he demanded.

"To stop Fate," the werewolf said simply. "The bad things that will come if you don't. You a good man. You wouldn't let anyting happen to this city. You've made youself at home here. N'awlins has welcomed you, son. You bring people together in a good way. You gotta keep on doin' it, and the Krewe of Fafnir's part of it." He grasped Griffen's forearm and looked into his eyes as if searching for something. "C'mon along on Tuesday evenin'. Meet the department heads. Don't say no now. What do you think?"

Griffen gave one more good look at the roaring dragon's head in the corner. Its eyes seemed to glitter at him.

"I'll think about it," he said.

He had to get out of there before he agreed to the offer. It was too tempting. If there was anything he had learned in the last few months, it was to go over the details and ask questions, and more questions, before saying yes. He'd been guilty of rash behavior that had hurt him and the people who loved or trusted him--or both. He turned to leave.

In the wide doorway, a broad silhouette stood between him and the outside. Griffen recognized the shape of a man who might have been mistaken for a big-boned, muscular, and somewhat overweight biker. His heart sank as the figure swaggered toward him.

"You thinking of running a krewe, on top of everything?" Detective Harrison asked, his broad face skeptical.

Matters were still not perfect between Griffen and Harrison, not since the masquerade ball at the end of the conclave in October.