Joker Moon

by George R. R. Martin

  Under the mask was Drake Thomas, who had once been known as Little Fat Boy. Michelle knew who he was only because she’d been warned by Lohengrin. Klaus had told Michelle what had happened to Drake after she’d absorbed his nuclear blast and saved New Orleans. The ancient joker symbiote Sekhmet had left John Fortune to reside in Drake. Drake was so powerful that Sekhmet made him Ra: Protector of Old Egypt and First among the Living Gods. Without him, they would have been at the mercy of the Caliphate after the war. Only a handful of people knew that Ra was the boy who’d blown up Pyote, Texas.

  “Bubbles.” Drake’s voice was deeper and darker than she remembered. When she’d known him before, his voice had just begun to crack.

  “Drake,” Michelle replied cooly, keeping her arm linked with Bastet’s. She certainly wasn’t going to hug him. And shaking his hand seemed weirdly impersonal given their history. How do you treat someone who put you into a coma for two years, even if it had been accidental? Michelle wasn’t afraid of Drake. However, she didn’t want to have anything to do with him, either.

  “When Bastet told me you were coming I didn’t believe her. It’s been a long time. And who is this?” He gave Adesina a smile, but it was creepy and she didn’t return it.

  “My daughter,” Michelle replied.

  He nodded as if he had known the answer all along. “What a dork,” she heard Adesina say under her breath.

  “I guess I am a dork,” Drake said. “Actually, I was once a fanboy of your mother’s. But I put aside childish things when I came to Egypt. And now I must know … why did the Little Cat ask you to come?”

  Bastet’s body stiffened a little. “Because that’s what people do, Drake,” she said. That he had hurt her was obvious in the quaver in her voice. “They spend time together. Talk on the phone. Normal things.”

  “I thought it was because you have this ridiculous notion I need help. Assassins. Bombs. I have more enemies than you can count. None have succeeded in killing me yet. And I’ve told you to call me Ra when we’re in public. It’s confusing to the adherents if you don’t. And I certainly don’t need help. Not from you and not from her.”

  Michelle rolled her eyes. Awesome, she thought. Drake isn’t fucked up—he’s turned into an asshole.

  “You know, I can work with that, Drake,” Michelle said, giving him a broad, insincere smile. “Seriously, I’m here to catch up with Bastet and show Adesina some of Old Egypt. I don’t know what this whole ‘call me Ra’ thing is about and I’m pretty much cool with not finding out. Your ace parlor trick left me in a coma, kid. I’m not exactly your biggest fan.”

  Drake shrugged. “I’m not a kid anymore. And Ra … well, that’s who I am now. It’s incredibly disrespectful for you to call me anything else.” He opened his hand and another fiery orb appeared. From the center of it, a jet of fire shot skyward. The heat that radiated off it was brutal.

  Michelle guessed this was supposed to impress her. He gave her a smug look and the orb disappeared. Oh, you wee thing, she thought. You couldn’t destroy me when your powers were at their fullest. You’re not going to scare me with Sekhmet controlling them. And I don’t give a shit who worships you.

  Michelle pulled her hand from Bastet’s arm and let a bubble form in it. It rose up in the air, hovering there. She let it grow. It was one of her favorite things to do. The bubble was beautiful, but it could be almost anything she wanted it to be. It all depended on the way things went.

  “Anyone who insists on wearing a mask in public when it isn’t Halloween or who doesn’t have a joker so horrible they need to hide their face … well, that seems like pretentious bullshit to me. Or did your pimple problem never clear up?”

  Ra pulled himself taller. He was still several inches shorter than Michelle, who stood almost six feet tall. “I’m a God,” he said venomously. “People bow down to me.”

  “And they bow down to Sobek, too,” she replied with a shrug. “I’m not sure this is a card you want to play.”

  His body language was all she needed to see to know how angry he was. She was enjoying it. After Talas, her control over her emotions had slipped considerably.

  “Bubbles, stop it,” Bastet said, grabbing Michelle’s arm.

  “Mom!”

  “Oh, fine,” Michelle replied, letting the bubble float away. “Honestly, Bastet, you never let me have any fun. And what did I say about calling me Bubbles?”

  “That you wished you’d called yourself something like Effervescence and then everyone would have called you Effy and it would be less goofy than ‘Bubbles.’ There was also something else about it sounding like a fifties stripper name and how that was funny at the time, but now not so much and…”

  “You know, I’m going to stop telling you things,” Michelle said.

  “Mom, you never told me you didn’t like being called ‘Bubbles.’” Adesina gave Michelle a speculative look.

  “I think Bubbles is a perfectly acceptable name.” A tall thin man wearing a gold death’s-head mask walked slowly toward them, leaning ever so slightly on an ebony cane topped by a gold dragon’s-head handle. Michelle recognized Charles Dutton. She had too many contacts in Jokertown not to.

  “Mr. Dutton,” she said, genuinely perplexed. “It’s very … odd to see you here.”

  “I might say the same about you, Ms. Pond.” It was difficult to tell if Dutton was being sincere because the mask muffled his voice. Yet another mask, she thought. Really, what’s up with that?

  “Mr. Dutton,” Drake said, stepping forward while sparing Michelle one last this isn’t over with look. “I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.”

  “I thought I’d take an extra day. I move slower now than I used to. Do you suppose we can go inside? I don’t do well standing for long periods.”

  “Of course,” Drake said. Dutton walked past Michelle and she noticed that he was being very subtle about relying on his cane. She knew he’d funded various programs at Xavier Desmond High School that Adesina attended, which she found surprising given his history of being a slumlord.

  “Aren’t you going to join us?” asked Dutton. “I think you would be interested. Your daughter, too.”

  “Bastet,” Drake said. “Come along.” It was a command.

  Oh, no, pardner, Michelle thought, you did not just treat my friend like that.

  “I’m so sorry,” Michelle said, not even trying to hide how annoyed she was. “Bastet promised lunch and catching up. I’m afraid you’ll have to do without us. Mr. Dutton, it was an unexpected pleasure.”

  “The pleasure was all mine,” Dutton replied. Michelle really wanted to know what was going on behind his mask.

  “He’s not well,” Bastet said. Michelle, Adesina, and Bastet were in the cool, dark embrace of Sobek’s Delight, a restaurant that Bastet claimed had the best food in Old Egypt. Adesina had excused herself to use the LGR, leaving them alone.

  “I’m not seeing ‘There’s something wrong with Drake.’ I’m seeing ‘Drake’s an asshole.’ When I knew him, he was fucked up because he accidentally blew up his entire town, killing everyone he knew and loved.” Michelle dipped her baladi bread into the generous bowl of besarah and was delighted to find it was better than Bastet had promised. The flavors of the besarah were complicated and the bread soft and still warm.

  “This is really good,” she said, her mouth full. “I think I can make a whole meal out of just this.”

  Bastet’s copper-colored eyes narrowed. “You’re not taking this seriously,” she replied as she dipped her own bread into the besarah. “What you saw was Ra. That’s not Drake. Well, he is Drake, but not really.” She wiped her muzzle daintily.

  “Just because a guy runs around in a falcon’s-head mask and a fancy kilt doesn’t mean there’s something mentally wrong with him.” Michelle took another bite of the besarah. She’d come thinking Bastet wanted a real visit, not one to get her involved with Drake. And she’d brought Adesina along only because she thought it was going to be a reunion. “Most likel
y it means that being treated like a God—not to mention having that kind of power—turns you dickish.”

  “Michelle, please,” Bastet pleaded. She took Michelle’s hand in hers. It was warm and soft. Michelle liked the way it felt. “Please just see Drake when he’s alone. I can arrange it. When he’s not with anyone else. Just us.”

  “What have the two of you been talking about?” Adesina asked as she pulled her chair up to the table.

  “Nothing much,” Michelle replied.

  “Really? Because I’m pretty sure you’re talking about the dork.”

  The waiter stopped at their table. Bastet snarled at him. He held up his hands as he backed away.

  “That’s no way to win friends and influence people,” Michelle said.

  Bastet growled softly. “All I’m asking for is an hour.”

  “I’m kinda wounded here,” Michelle said sadly. “I thought you wanted me for myself.” She gave a fake pout, but it wasn’t altogether insincere. She was stinging from the notion that the only reason her friend wanted to see her was to help Drake. Michelle was not just here to see Bastet, she was also hoping to see how her Living God friends were doing. “You have any idea why Charles Dutton is here?”

  Bastet shrugged. “According to Drake, he wants us to go to the Moon. All the Living Gods—and Drake.”

  “I thought Theodorus only wanted jokers.” Michelle leaned back in her chair. “Drake is an ace.”

  “He has Sekhmet inside him.”

  Michelle nodded. “And as Ra he’s ridiculously powerful. Who wouldn’t want a weapon like that?”

  “Yes.” Bastet nodded somberly. “That, too.”

  “Seriously, you’re trying to make me think that—” Michelle pointed. Drake was wearing his Ra mask and a linen robe. The ball of fire still floated over his head. “—that is just a misunderstood kid? He’s an asshole!”

  Bastet’s fur bristled. “He’s got problems!”

  “Well, everyone does,” Michelle snapped. And some of us more so, thank you very much.

  “Stop talking about me like I’m not here,” Drake said, his deep voice commanding their attention. He yanked off the falcon mask and shucked his robe. Underneath he wore a ratty RUSTBELT! T-shirt and tattered jeans. But he wasn’t the kid she remembered. His mustache was wispy, but his acne had cleared up. His forehead bulged with the outline of a red scarab. Sekhmet. Michelle noted that there was a still softness to his body, a little gut. His arms had almost no muscle tone.

  Drake’s face crumpled and he began crying.

  Bastet ran to his side and the ball of fire above his head vanished. She held Drake in her arms and he wept into her shoulder. “I hate him,” Drake sobbed. His body shook. “I hate how he acts and I hate what he can do.”

  Oh, no, Michelle thought. Extremely powerful ace. Mental issues. Tom Weathers situation much? She immediately regretted bringing Adesina along.

  “It’s okay,” Bastet said, patting his back. She looked at Michelle. Help me, she mouthed.

  Michelle shook her head. Not my circus. Not my monkey.

  Drake pulled back from Bastet and looked balefully at Michelle. He swiped his runny nose on the back of his hand, then wiped it on his jeans.

  Oh, my God, Michelle thought. Really? Really! Also, ew.

  “You came,” he said dully. “Bastet said you would, but I didn’t believe her. I mean, you haven’t written or anything.”

  Michelle tilted her head to one side. Then she said, keeping her voice low, but filled with contempt, “Well, Drake, I’m pretty sure I mentioned earlier that I was in a coma for two years. You know, the one you put me in? And after that fun time, I’ve been all over the place with the Committee trying to keep the world from devouring itself. I’ve been kinda busy.”

  He hung his head and Michelle felt like she’d just hit a badly behaved puppy. “I know,” he said softly. There was a click in his throat as if he was trying to stop crying. She hated seeing anyone cry, even Drake, but seeing him try not to was almost as bad. “I’m really sorry,” he said, his voice wobbly. “We were sort of friends once, I think.”

  “We were friends for two seconds years ago,” she said sourly. “Things change.”

  “I know,” he replied. “They changed for me, too. Lohengrin brought me here after … after New Orleans. He said it was the only place for me now. Said that Sekhmet would help me control my powers.”

  Michelle looked around for somewhere to sit. The room was all granite, the benches and chairs made of the same substance. There were pillows tossed here and there. Weird, Michelle thought. Then it dawned on her. There’s always the fire issue with Drake. Pillows are more easily replaced than furniture.

  She sat down in one of the stone chairs. It was more throne-like and sitting in it she felt as if she was the ruler of damn near everything. Drake went to a chair on the other side of the room. Bastet turned into a black cat and jumped into Drake’s lap. He started petting her and Michelle could hear her purring from across the room. Drake visibly relaxed.

  Adesina looked around the room, then took one of the large throne-like chairs, mirroring her mother’s pose as she tucked her large, cobalt-colored wings behind her.

  “I really am sorry about New Orleans,” he said. “I’m better about my powers now. Sekhmet is showing me how, but it’s hard. Hey, you’re Adesina,” he said suddenly. He leaned forward and Bastet jumped off his lap, changing back into her joker form.

  Adesina looked at him with dismay. She shifted as her wings started to unfurl. Then they slammed back against her body again. “Uh, yeah,” she replied. “And you’re Drake, but sometimes you’re Ra? You should stop that because he’s a douche.”

  “I’m not him! I mean, he does horrible things. That’s not me—it’s just a thing I have to do. But it’s not me.”

  “Whatever,” Adesina said dismissively.

  “You play games, right?” he asked hopefully.

  “You have a totes interesting conversation style. Like, I’m getting whiplash here.” Adesina shook her head and her coppery dreads danced around. “And, yeah, I play games. Why are you asking?”

  “I play, too,” he said excitedly, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Look, I’ve been following you on Twitch and in game.”

  Adesina recoiled. “You’re game-stalking me?”

  “No! Your videos are up there, you know.”

  “Mom!”

  He looked imploringly at Michelle, as if he were a supplicant and she the deity. “I know she likes games and, well, she went through that whole transformation thing like I did.”

  “She can’t boil the Nile dry. You can.”

  “I just thought she might want to play together online sometime. I know she likes the Ocelot games, and now that they’ve gone pretty hard-core with Rampage: Ocelot 10, well, it seemed like something we might do.…”

  Adesina stood up and let her wings flare open into their full majesty. “Stop talking to my mother like I’m not here. What you’re doing is hella creepy.”

  Drake flushed from his neck up to the top of his head. “I didn’t mean anything like that by it,” he said shakily. He tugged on his T-shirt and balled up the end of it in his fist. “I just don’t have anyone here to play with.”

  He’s a kid, Michelle realized, staring at him as if seeing him for the first time. He’s a goddamn kid. Whatever the story was with Ra and all that, Drake might as well still be a teenager. Shit. He’s just a kid. She looked around the room. It was cold and impersonal despite the myriad patterns of stone that had been used. It was a hard and mean room to live in.

  “What’s your friend situation here, Drake?” she asked. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Adesina flop back down in her chair. There was a dour expression on her face.

  He shrugged. “Except Bastet? No one really. I mean, Sekhmet talks to me inside my head, but she’s an old woman. Except for Bastet and couple of other people, no one knows I’m Ra. And I have to be Ra a lot.”

  There was a
long pause as Michelle considered Bastet and Drake. She sighed. “Adesina, any chance you’d be willing to play games with this huge dork?”

  “God, Mom,” Adesina said, sounding horrified.

  “It’s your call, of course. I just know he’s one pathetic excuse for a human being right now.”

  “Please,” Drake said. The anguish in his voice was real. “I need a friend.”

  “Good grief!” Adesina exclaimed.

  “Please,” he said again. It wasn’t pleading this time, it was filled with pain and loneliness.

  “Fine,” Adesina said, relenting. “But there are rules. No chatting, no in-game talking, none of that. Just send me a tell and I’ll play for a while—if I can. I’m not your gaming buddy. Got it?”

  Drake nodded enthusiastically and Michelle could swear she saw him tearing up again, but he rubbed his eyes on the back of his hand instead.

  Fuck you, Bastet, she thought. Fuck you for making me give a shit about this pathetic mess of a man-child. And fuck me for getting Adesina to play with him. And my daughter is far too good for any of us.

  “You’re going to help him?” Bastet asked. “Yes?” Michelle was striding down the corridor and Bastet was having to trot to keep up with her. Adesina lingered back, texting on her phone, no doubt telling Ghost about what was happening.

  “I’m not certain what you expect me to do,” Michelle replied. “Adesina, don’t tell Ghost everything that’s going on here.”

  “God, Mom, she’d be pissed at me if she thought I’d agreed to start playing with some rando. She has very strict standards when it comes to who we play with. I’m not going to tell her exactly what the situation is, trust me.”

  “Michelle,” Bastet interrupted. Adesina shrugged and went back to her phone.

  “Look, Bastet, he’s fucked up. Like a lot. He needs more help than I can give him.”

  “You see what’s happening to him?”

  “Yes, and it’s not. My. Problem! Jesus, he’s got a bifurcated personality.”

  “What?”

  “He’s split in two. Not really, but he thinks Ra is sorta apart from him.”