Playing For Keeps

by Mur Lafferty

  “I’m glad they stayed. We need to stick together on this,” Keepsie said.

  Ian stirred as Peter came into the room. He avoided Keepsie’s eyes and went to Ian’s side.

  Ian opened his eyes. “Dude. You got me out. And what the fuck happened to you?”

  Peter eased himself onto the floor and started talking. He told Ian an abbreviated version of the night’s adventures, glossing over the torture. Keepsie stood with her back to them, staring through the front window up at the battle that still raged. She wondered if Ian was getting shit on her floor, and then felt guilty.

  She eased the door open and ventured up a couple of steps. She’d caught the sound of clockwork, the sound that usually came with Doodad’s attacks. The heroes still battled the girl, or tried to, anyway. She still hung motionless in the air, but a globe of impenetrable light had surrounded her despite the heroes’ attacks.

  The clockwork sound came from the ground level, however. Up the street came a walker, another one of Doodad’s vehicles, surrounded by scores of smaller machinery, each with several appendages.

  Some sported items that looked like artillery. Others buzzed about his head like drones.

  He and Clever Jack had an army.

  13

  Peter ignored Keepsie’s cold manner and focused on Ian.

  His friend grimaced at him. “I’d ask who had the worst night, but I think we’re going to need a lot of beer for that story.”

  Michelle choked out a laugh and Peter smiled.

  “The bad news is that it may be a while before we get that beer,” Peter said. “We have to leave—”

  Keepsie stormed back into the bar. Peter hadn’t even noticed she’d left.

  “We have to stop them,” Keepsie said. “Get up.”

  “What? What are you talking about?” Michelle said.

  Keepsie’s eyes were wide and unfocused. “Doodad and Clever Jack. We have to stop them.”

  “Keepsie, we’ve been through enough tonight,” Peter said. “We need to rest up and get out of the city. You can’t expect us to go back out there and go through more, can you?”

  Keepsie focused on him, and he saw a desperation in her eyes that he’d never seen. It was a naked look, all confidence and bitterness gone.

  “Fine.” She opened the door and was gone.

  “Shit,” Ian said, and struggled off the floor. Peter and Michelle didn’t stop him. They just stared as Ian limped to the open door. He turned around and gave them a withering look. Then he left.

  Peter’s wounds throbbed and his hand felt as if someone had shoved an ice pick through it an hour earlier. The thought of getting off the floor nearly brought tears to his eyes. Michelle looked at Peter once, then followed Ian.

  Keepsie hadn’t steered him wrong before. Well, there had been all that with standing up to the heroes, dealing with supervillains, forming an illegal group and getting them all captured. But they always followed her. Because she was, well, Keepsie.

  He struggled to his feet, hissing with pain, and looked out the window. He couldn’t see Keepsie, but Michelle was sprinting up the stairs. Peter dragged himself up the stairs and followed Michelle, taking a moment to check the road for cars.

  The road had no cars, probably because of all the robotic soldiers Doodad controlled. Oh hell.

  Peter joined his three friends on the sidewalk. Clever Jack and Doodad sat in Doodad’s walker, triumph on their faces. They pointed to the Third Wavers.

  Keepsie stared blankly at the hero battle overhead.

  Doodad’s walker stopped in front of them. Clever Jack grinned and waved. “Glad you could make it. What do you think? We’re going to drive the heroes out with this army. No more holier than thou heroes. No more spandex. Join us.” It was not a question.

  Keepsie opened her mouth, but Peter put his good hand on her shoulder. “This is amazing, Clever Jack. I had no idea you two were that powerful.”

  Michelle looked at him sharply and Ian simply watched the drones fly around the villains. Clever Jack pulled the ball bearing from his pocket. “This drug is something similar to what your grandmothers took—it’s like super Zupra. It boosts power. Dr. Timson created it, but Doodad stole it.”

  “That is brilliant,” Peter said, nodding. Keepsie turned her head to look at him and he squeezed her shoulder harder.

  Realization dawned on Keepsie’s face. She shielded her eyes from the glare and looked at the girl floating above them. “So you were lucky enough to release your friend up there, and Doodad is now strong enough to control all of these soldiers. Is she OK up there?”

  “We don’t know. We’re going to rescue her now.” At Jack’s word, several of the robots ignited jets and rose into the air.

  “Right,” Peter said. “Well, good luck with that. I guess we’ll get out of your way; we’re a little minor league for this kind of fighting.”

  Clever Jack gave them a paternal smile. “You guys get some rest. You’ve helped out a lot tonight.”

  “Thanks, and good luck,” Peter said, carefully steering his friend back down the stairs.

  “Count on it,” Clever Jack said as they left, and Peter felt stung by his words.

  “Peter, what—” Michelle started before Keepsie shushed her.

  “Wait till we get back inside,” she hissed. Peter was relieved to hear the sense come back into her voice.

  “Oh dear God,” Peter whispered as the door shut behind him. He leaned on it and panted; fear and adrenaline taxing his already exhausted body.

  “What are we going to do?” Keepsie asked.

  “What do you mean?” Ian asked. He went over to the window and peered out.

  “What do you mean what does she mean?” Michelle asked, her voice high and strained. “We helped them get that drug, we helped them release that woman, we helped them build that army! God knows what they’re going to do with them!”

  Tomas, Barry and Jason emerged from three booths. They looked as if they’d been sleeping. “What’s going on?” Jason said.

  Peter started to explain but Ian interrupted him. “Clever Jack and Doodad have a way to get those torturing bastards out of the city for good, they’ve got an army and a new ally, she looks pretty powerful,” he said, glaring at Peter. “As for these guys, I not too clear on what’s going on. We hate the heroes. Those bastards tortured us. Clever Jack and Doodad have been sticking up for us, freeing us from their little torture chambers, getting us here safely, and we’re wondering how to stop them?

  “Guys, they have the recipe out there to get rid of the heroes once and for all. Why not help them?”

  “You can’t be serious,” Peter said.

  Ian gestured to Peter’s bandaged hand. “Dude, those heroes fucked us up. Have you looked at yourself? How can you be on their side?”

  Keepsie leaned on a stool by the bar. “We’re not on their side, Ian. But we’re not on the side of flooding the city with robots, either. We have enough problems with the rats.”

  “You let them get to you, didn’t you?” Ian asked, disbelief on his face. “I can’t believe you let them get to you. Their whole spiel about goodness and heroic action and leaving the city to those with the special powers.”

  “Ian,” Michelle said, extending her hand to him. “Let’s just talk about this, OK?”

  “No. Fuck that,” Ian said. He walked over to the door. “I’m done talking. I’m done with the hiding out in a fucking basement bar and drinking beer and whining about how I can never use my power for anything and how the heroes step all over us. You didn’t spring me from that place, and I was put there defending you. Clever Jack freed me. Maybe he’s the person I should be sticking with.”

  “Ian, this is a really bad idea. This isn’t like you,” Peter said.

  Ian paused with his hand on the door and said, “Christ, Peter. Grow a pair, why don’t you?” He slammed the door on his way out.

  “Ian, don’t, wait!” Michelle said, and Peter caught her arm as she tried to run a
fter him.

  “He’s gone, Michelle, I’m sorry,” Peter said.

  “Let me go!” Michelle didn’t fight him; her anguish diminished her. “He left me.”

  Peter nearly fell back in surprise when she buried her face in his chest and sobbed. He winced at the pain in his shoulder, but held her awkwardly. Her head was right below his nose and avoided breathing as long as he could, but she wouldn’t let him go and he had to inhale. He sucked in as little air as possible, but the images still flooded his mind. Michelle, Ian, candlelight, and—oh.

  He wondered why he hadn’t realized Michelle and Ian had been lovers. Then again, he didn’t really notice that kind of thing.

  “So what now?” Peter asked Keepsie. “Ian is going to tell them we’re not on board.”

  “It doesn’t matter anymore, Peter. I’ve fucked it all up. All of it.” Keepsie climbed atop her stool, burying her head in her hands. She did not cry; she merely looked too tired to do much of anything.

  Peter felt something heavy in his chest. He was comforting the wrong woman. His natural instinct had not been to take care of Michelle, but to help and support Keepsie. He wanted to hold her and tell her everything would be all right.

  Not knowing at all how to deal with the etiquette of removing a sobbing woman from your arms in order to hold a non-sobbing one, he stayed where he was, staring at Keepsie and overwhelmed by feelings he hadn’t allowed himself to feel since high school.

  And if he could have been able to go to her, which he couldn’t, if he would have had the courage to hold her and comfort her, which he didn’t, he would have been lying to her anyway. They were badly wounded fugitives. The heroes were after them. The villains had flooded the city with a nightmare—with their help. And their strongest ally and best friend had just deserted them.

  He had no idea how everything was going to be all right.

  * * * * *

  Keepsie wouldn’t respond. She lay in a booth curled into a fetal position. Michelle tried to talk to her, but soon gave up.

  “She’s completely overloaded,” she said flatly. “She probably just needs time. I think I know how she feels.”

  Peter sighed. “Just give her some time to process all of this. We have to plan out our next step.”

  “We need help,” she said. She hadn’t mentioned Ian again, and Peter didn’t bring up what he had learned while holding her.

  “I’m thinking we need to call some more Third Wavers,” said Peter. “We also have to think about the city. Are they still fighting out there?”

  Barry had the post by the window. “I don’t see Doodad or Clever Jack, but there are those flying drone things doing a kind of patrol, I guess. And actually…”

  Barry backed away from the window as one of the drones descended into the stairwell, a bright red light shining through the window.

  Peter fought the urge to hide his face from the eye. “Well, I guess Doodad and Clever Jack know we’re not on board now. We need to get out of here.”

  “Where are we going to go?” Michelle asked. “If you think that we’ll be safer carrying Keepsie out in the open than staying here, I’d like to see what superpower you’re hiding under that stuffy exterior.”

  Peter pointed at the drone. “Look, everyone knows we’re here, heroes and villains. It’s a matter of time before they come for us. The heroes discounted Keepsie’s powers, but the villains never did. They never underestimated any of us, actually.”

  Michelle got a Rolodex from under the bar. “I’ll call some people, then. I have to admit that after the incident with Samantha, I don’t know who to trust. It would be good to get Colette here, and Vincent, to clean up the stench.”

  “The busboy?”

  “Busboy, dishwasher, cleaning crew. If it had dirt involved, he was in charge. As for the customers, we don’t know everyone’s full names or their powers. A lot of people come to the bar for the sense of belonging, not to dump their names and histories on us. I serve beer, I don’t take a census.”

  Peter lifted his bandaged hand. “We have to get medical help before we do anything. I’m useless now, and I think Keepsie would be better without those burns and bruises.”

  Michelle frowned. “I remember a guy, he didn’t come in often, but he had healing powers. Alex or Alan or something. His power’s pretty weak, though.”

  “Well, that goes without saying,” Peter said. “But it’s the closest thing we have to a hospital now. How can we contact him?”

  Michelle thought for a moment. Her eyes got momentarily bright, then she deflated. “I know who would know his number.”

  “Who?”

  “Ian. They used to surf together.”

  “Done,” said Peter, and stood up. “Take care of her. Do what you can to get some fluid into her, preferably something with sugar. Also, some painkillers should help her out, if you can coax her to swallow something. Try to get her alert and moving. She’ll be due for more painkillers in about two hours. And tell her I’ll be back shortly.”

  “How are you going to find him?” Michelle asked.

  “I have an idea.”

  “An idea, great.”

  Keepsie slept with her head on the bar, breathing shallowly and with a small groan after every breath. Beside her on the floor was Ian’s jacket; he’d forgotten it in his rage.

  Peter bent beside Keepsie and picked up the jacket. He leaned close to her. “Don’t worry, Keepsie, everything’s going to be all right.”

  She didn’t respond. With a quick look behind him to make sure Michelle wasn’t watching—she was discussing the phone list with Tomas and her back was to him—he leaned over and kissed Keepsie on her warm forehead.

  The effect was unexpected—he’d been holding his breath— but explosive. Keepsie filled his mind, everything about her odd passive talent, all of the details, details he was sure even she didn’t know.

  He fell back in surprise, hitting the floor with a pained grunt.

  “What the hell happened to you?” Jason asked, picking him up.

  “I—uh—fell...” Peter said, staring at the sleeping powerhouse that was Keepsie. He was frankly astonished that he’d been able to steal a kiss, considering the span of her abilities.

  “What happened?”

  “Exhaustion, I think. Excuse me, I need to talk to Michelle.”

  His lifelong pragmatism warred briefly with the new emotions that were roiling, but he realized that being shy was not the safest way to go at this juncture.

  He took Michelle’s hand and took her into to the kitchen.

  “This is hard for me to say. I will preface it by asking you to keep a secret for me,” Peter began.

  “Huh?”

  He sighed. He was usually more concise than this. “You know my power—I can find out things about people by smelling them. I just, well, found out some rather amazing things about Keepsie.”

  Michelle looked repulsed. “You smelled her?”

  “No, I, ah, kissed her. I have never gotten this much information about someone. Never.”

  “Wait, so, let me get this straight. You haven’t ever kissed anyone before?”

  Peter’s face burned. “Of course I have. But I have never kissed a Third Wave woman before. All my life I’ve tried to respect others’ privacy and avoid using my powers on them. I find out all sorts of things I don’t want to know.” He looked pointedly at Michelle.

  “What do you—oh. You mean me and Ian,” she said, looking down.

  “I didn’t mean to find out, but after he left you were holding me so close, and…” He trailed off.

  Peter’s excitement finally overshadowed his embarrassment. “But that’s not what I wanted to talk about. My point is that Keepsie is much more powerful than she knows. I think I know how she survived the heroes’ attacks.”

  “I’m not following,” Michelle said.

  “Killing someone is nothing more than stealing their life. Keepsie can’t be stolen from. Therefore—”

  Michelle i
nterrupted him, her brown eyes very wide. “Keepsie’s immortal.”

  14

  Peter and Tomas stood in Keepsie’s stairwell, staring out into the street. Doodad’s drones were everywhere: perched in trees, exploring the Academy ruins, following early morning joggers. A news van had attempted to set up, but a drone severed its antenna. Where there weren’t people to harass, drones did little more than common vandalism. They broke windows, destroyed storefronts, and set cars on fire.

  The battle with the girl had moved on; a light on the horizon in the west showed that she was still airborne, and thunder still rumbled in the air. White Lightning was still active, then.

  Was this Clever Jack’s master plan? To annoy the city and cause damages? What were they really planning? All he needed was a name and a phone number. But if he could find out more, then he would. If he could accomplish this alive, that is.

  Michelle and Peter had agreed to keep silent on the secrets they had found out about each other. Before Peter left, with Ian’s coat slung over his damaged hand, Michelle asked him to kiss her.

  “What?” he asked, entirely flummoxed.

  She laughed and held out her hand. “I want to know if there’s something about my powers that I don’t know either. Keepsie has a hidden talent, and apparently so do you. So what can you tell me about myself?”

  Peter took her hand and kissed it.

  The effect was not the surround sound iMax experience that Keepsie’s had been, but Keepsie was clearly the most powerful among them. Michelle was more like reading a magazine. She could hold any flat, tray-like surface with little difficulty, even throw it. The items on the tray would obey her will, staying upright until she let go.

  She frowned when he told her the report.

  “Well, look at it this way,” he said. “Have you ever tried throwing a full bar tray? As a weapon, I mean.”

  “No, actually. Thanks, Bloodhound. You be careful out there, OK?”

  “‘Bloodhound?’”

  She grinned at him and waved him out the door. Tomas had insisted on coming with him as a guard.