Playing For Keeps

by Mur Lafferty

  Hell. He tried to cry, to weep, to beat hysterically against her iron control, and his prison did not crack. All he was able to do was watch out his own eyes and listen through his own ears.

  The most frightening thing was that he could not smell anything at all.

  * * * * *

  “All right. Heretic and Devil, come with me, the rest flank us and stall Clever Jack. If I need aid, Tattoo Devil will send word.”

  Heretic was at Peter’s side at once. “Doctor, what will Pallas say about our new, ah, plans?”

  “I have arranged for her to be in New York for the duration. She won’t interrupt her trip unless I call her. Our PR people are working on a plausible spin for it. It will all work out.”

  Peter barely paid attention to her. He was out of ideas. She carried him out the apartment door and down the road several blocks. People peeked out of windows and smiled at them, giving thumbs-up signs.

  They reached Main Street too quickly. Timson’s heroes and Clever Jack and Light of Mornings had engaged and the battle was bloody. Timson guided Peter’s eye briefly to where White Lighting and Ghostheart were conducting the battle from their vantage point, high in the sky, safe from attack. Ghostheart called down to the streets below, egging on—oh Jesus.

  The city’s destitute, the homeless, the hoboes and bums, those that cities tried to keep care of but secretly wished would go and plague another city, had formed an army. Ghostheart’s army, guided by her power of lies and suggestion. They marched forward toward Jack and Light of Mornings.

  How are bums going to fight a nuclear child?

  Light of Mornings appeared beside Clever Jack on the roof. Peter’s question was answered as the army began throwing things at her, causing no damage but clearly distracting her. She flew down to the street and raised her hand.

  No…

  Her blast blew their forces back, the limp bodies tumbled like dice, stopping only when hitting something larger than themselves. They did not get up.

  The heroes’ grisly plan was working, however, as White Lightning was able to get through the girl’s defenses and strike her with a lightning bolt. She looked up, however, and glared at him.

  “Idiot,” Timson said with Peter’s mouth. “If she’s made of energy he can’t hurt her that way.”

  Peter felt something as Timson stared at the girl: rage. He hadn’t been able to notice her emotions before, was it because he was getting more attuned to her, or his own panic was fading enough for him to notice her?

  The hobo battle seemed to be focused on the street right in front of the bar, but Samantha’s forces had retreated just enough to where Timson could carry Peter and his body to Keepsie’s front door. She turned and nodded to Tattoo Devil and Heretic, and entered the bar.

  Peter felt Timson’s surprise as his arms were suddenly full of Keepsie. “Where the hell did you go? What happened?” she demanded after hugging him.

  Peter sat back—metaphorically—to watch. There was nothing he could do. He could watch, and wait for Timson to mess up, or change from her gaseous form… and then what?

  Well, he would see.

  30

  Peter looked positively startled when Keepsie hugged him, something she attributed to the stress. A small part of her mind wondered if she had been reading him, or Colette’s clues, incorrectly, and she was making an ass of herself. Another part of her was angry at his response. But mostly she was monumentally relieved to have him back.

  “I don’t really remember what happened,” he said, hugging her back tightly. “I woke up in an alley and made my way back here.”

  “How did you get past the ruckus outside?” asked Barry.

  “They didn’t even notice me,” Peter said confidently.

  “So what happened to you after we got blown out of the building?” Michelle asked, still holding her injured arm awkwardly.

  “I, uh, don’t remember that part either. I was in the stairwell, and then I was in the alley. No clue.”

  “Well, we’re just glad to have you back. We’ve pretty much decided to hole up here and let them duke it out,” Keepsie said, leading him to the bar.

  Ian sat in front of six painkillers, all lined up in a neat row. He methodically popped one into his mouth, chased it with a gulp of beer, and moved onto the next one.

  He shot Peter a look. “Dude.”

  Peter stared at him for a moment, and then took his seat.

  “So, after someone wins out there, then what?” Peter asked, jabbing his thumb toward the door.

  Keepsie shrugged. “I don’t know. There aren’t any good guys left. Timson is insane. Clever Jack has a nuclear bomb…I can’t keep these drugs forever, but I—shit, we’ve been over this. Let’s worry about it when the dust clears.”

  Peter nodded. “Where is everyone else?”

  “Who do you mean? Everyone is here. No one else has made it out since the initial attack, and anyone we’ve called said they didn’t want to come down. Not that I can blame them.”

  “So, just us, huh?”

  “Yes, just us, like it’s been all day. Minus Alex, of course,” she added sadly.

  “And where is Alex?”

  Ian whipped his head around and winced. “Dude, they must have hit you harder than they hit me. What do you mean ‘where is Alex?’”

  Peter looked around, blushing slightly, “I’m really not following today very well.”

  “Maybe your blood sugar is low,” Keepsie said. “You want Colette to make you some food?”

  Peter nodded. “Cheeseburger and fries, please.”

  Keepsie reached out and squeezed his hand. He smiled at her and squeezed back.

  In the kitchen, Colette fussed around the stove.

  “You know, you can come join us,” Keepsie told her.

  Colette turned, murder on her flushed, round face. “Something is wrong.”

  “You mean besides the fact that we’re trapped in a bar with death and chaos right outside the door?” Keepsie laughed, able to relax a bit now that Peter was back.

  Colette didn’t answer. Keepsie sighed and said, “Peter is back, he’s OK. He wants a cheeseburger and fries.”

  Colette raised her head slowly. “He wants what?”

  “Cheeseburger and fries,” Keepsie said.

  Colette reached out and grasped the butcher knife on the counter.

  Keepsie threw out her arms to placate Colette. “Whoa, what’s going on? What’s wrong?”

  “Peter doesn’t eat well-done burgers.” Colette’s voice was cold.

  “So? He’s been through a lot today.”

  “But he doesn’t eat them like that. He doesn’t have mayo on his burger. And the man is a cheddar man, not American cheese.”

  “And that’s what he wants?”

  Her cook nodded slowly. “That’s what whoever ordered this burger wants.”

  “So you’re saying what?”

  “Dammit, Keepsie, are you still addled?” She waved the knife around as she gestured, and Keepsie stepped back. “Heroes are torturing citizens, you saw a woman with no power turn into a pillar of fire, and you’re saying that one of them can’t take on Peter’s shape and try to get the drugs from you, or worse?”

  All of the hair on Keepsie’s arms stood straight up and she shivered.

  “Make the burger. I’m going to see what I can find out.”

  “Try to be quicker out there than you are in here,” Colette said, turning back to her stove. Keepsie ground her teeth but didn’t reply.

  She paused in the door and said, “Colette, what was in that drug?”

  “Zupra. Pumped up, jacked up, enhanced, and the good Lord knows what else. But definitely Zupra. Everything you told me about what it will do to Third Wave and a super is true. But it’s unstable and will screw you up if you take too much.”

  “And where is it?”

  Colette stopped cutting tomatoes.

  “Colette. We don’t know what we’re up against. It’s better for one of us t
o get fucked up rather than we all die.”

  Colette pointed with the butcher knife, dripping tomato juice down the blade and onto the floor, at the Lost and Found box. Keepsie relaxed. “Good. Leave it there.”

  “Like I could move it if I wanted to,” Colette said coldly.

  Keepsie took a deep breath and put on the face she would have liked to wear if Peter really were back.

  Dammit Peter, where are you?

  * * * * *

  “What the hell took you so long?” asked Ian. “Peter’s starving.”

  “Colette had to tell me about the drugs,” Keepsie said, “so that took some time.”

  Peter looked up from the glass of red wine he held. “Oh? What did she say?”

  “She doesn’t know what it does, only that it’s pretty powerful stuff.” Keepsie kept her head down as she slipped behind the bar and pulled a pint of beer. “We have no idea what it does.”

  “But didn’t it enhance your powers?” Peter asked.

  “Did it?” Keepsie looked as if she were trying to remember. “I can’t remember much. And I thought you didn’t remember anything anyway.”

  “Ian told me,” he said.

  Keepsie glared at Ian for an instant and moved to sit beside Peter. She sipped her beer. “Damn, I’m so tired of all of this. I wish it could just be over.”

  “We need to think of another plan,” Peter said decisively.

  “Oh? What do you have in mind?” she said.

  “We need to make a deal with someone. We’re surrounded; it’s clear that we can’t beat all of them.”

  “Dude, what are you saying? Surrender?” Ian asked, choking on his beer.

  “Not surrender,” Peter said, backpedaling. “I just think we need to pick a side to go with and support them. Then the conflict should sort itself out, right?”

  Keepsie began nodding, thinking fast. “Let me think about this.” She got up.

  “Dude, you’re fucking kidding,” Ian said. “Clever Jack and Doodad tried to kill us enough today to be off the list. Heroes, torture and kidnapping, also not cool. Who has the least suck value? ’Cause I’m thinking they’re all in a tie.”

  “Let me think,” Keepsie repeated, putting Ian back in his seat with a look. “I’m going to check on Peter’s food.”

  “And I need to use the bathroom, if you’ll excuse me,” Peter said. He walked across the bar and into the women’s room, and then came right back out, blushing madly. Then he went into the men’s room and yelled when he saw Doodad’s body.

  “Colette was right,” Michelle said. “That’s not Peter.”

  He came back out. Ian laughed at him. “Dude, you forgot pretty much everything, didn’t you?”

  Peter nodded and attempted to smile, but he glared at them all for a moment. “So how long are we going to keep…that villain in the men’s room?”

  “I am going to hand him over to the authorities when all of this is done,” Keepsie said. “Probably the police.”

  “Not the Academy?”

  “Peter, honey, there is no Academy anymore,” she said.

  “You both have lost your mind,” Ian said, and headed to the women’s room.

  Keepsie relaxed a fraction; Ian almost blew it. Not that he knew there was something to blow.

  She met Colette just inside the doorway, chatting with Michelle. The cheeseburger sat in its basket, perfectly grilled, with a garnish of an orange slice.

  Colette grinned at Keepsie’s raised eyebrow. “Just trust me. And be ready.” She pressed a pill into Keepsie’s hand. “We’ll find out right now for sure if it’s him.”

  She slipped the knife into her apron strings and led them out of the kitchen. Keepsie and Michelle shared a tense look, and Michelle said, “I’m going to check and see if the guys need any beer.” She looked at Tomas and Barry, sitting quietly in their usual booth.

  “Your shoulder up to it?”

  Michelle nodded, flexing. “Not sure how, but I’m healed.”

  Keepsie palmed the pill and followed Colette.

  The cook put the burger right under Peter’s nose. He rubbed his forehead and inhaled gratefully. “That smells amazing, my compliments to the chef.”

  “Smells good, does it?” she asked without smiling.

  “Very. I’m famished.”

  “Doesn’t remind you of anything?”

  Peter look alarmed and glanced around. Michelle was setting drinks on a bar tray, watching them. Keepsie waited in the doorway, wondering what Colette was up to.

  He forced a laugh. “I’m sorry, my memory is not what it used to be.”

  “So nothing smells odd about it?” Colette said.

  “Aaaaahhhh...” Peter sounded as if he remembered something. “Right. Let me see.” He stuck his nose right up to the basket and inhaled deeply.

  “Colette,” he said, a teasing tone to his voice. “Did you leave a hair in here for me to find?”

  “No,” she said. “But I did figure you’d find the present underneath the orange slice. I left it just for you.”

  Peter lifted the orange slice and recoiled back, falling off the barstool. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  Keepsie squashed her final doubts and tossed the pill into her mouth, gulping it down with her beer.

  Colette grinned and held her knife tightly. “Nothing at all, Peter. Or whoever you are.”

  Peter’s eyes widened and he threw his head back, slamming it against the floor. He screamed and screamed, hands pulling at his hair. Blood began pouring out of his nose.

  Colette strode forward with the knife. She raised it, but Keepsie chased after her and caught her wrist.

  “No. Wait.”

  Her ears were beginning to buzz again. “Just. Wait.”

  Keepsie tried to keep her wits about her but the world began to glow with a fuzzy white light. She shook her head. Peter’s screams seemed far away, and she struggled to focus on them.

  She still held Colette’s hand, which was glowing as well. Michelle glowed too, with her tray of beer held ready to fling at the convulsing figure on the floor.

  Colette’s hand relaxed and she stepped back. Keepsie knelt by Peter, who began vomiting. She held his head to the side and looked up at her friends who had surrounded them.

  “It’s Peter,” she said.

  “What? How do you know?” Colette asked.

  “Look. You all are glowing again. So is he. I doubt he’d be glowing it if weren’t him. Hey, that thing coming out of his nose isn’t glowing. Do you think that’s the problem?”

  Peter continued to choke and vomit while a long rope of fire, hissing in the blood, streamed from Peter’s nose. It coiled on the floor beside his head, coalescing in the shape of a woman.

  It seemed to last a long time. Keepsie watched in detached interest, still holding Peter’s head. When all of the fire was out and the woman lay, sizzling in the blood and vomit, Keepsie turned her attention to Peter.

  His nose continued to bleed but he had stopped vomiting. He looked up at her with heavily lidded eyes.

  “Keepsie,” he managed to choke out before he went unconscious.

  Keepsie smiled at her friends. “There. All better.”

  They stared at her.

  * * * * *

  Timson continued to burn on Keepsie’s floor, which, strangely, did not smolder. The heat wafting off of her kept them away, but Colette dumped some ice water on her to keep the temperature down. The woman lay there, eyes open, staring at the ceiling, captured by Keepsie’s power.

  “What happened?” Michelle said, shaking her head in disbelief.

  Keepsie stroked Peter’s hair. “He had a Timson in his nose, I think. I could feel her in there. She was hurting him. She was trying to take what’s mine.”

  “What do we do with her?” Tomas nudged her with his work boot.

  “We could put her in the freezer with Alex, but then that would negate the purpose of putting Alex in there.”

  “No. We’re not putting
something on fire in my freezer,” Colette said.

  “Why not just throw her out the door?” Michelle asked.

  Keepsie shook her head. “She tried to kill Peter. Well, she’s tried to kill lots of us. But this one is pretty gross. She’s gone off the deep end, I’m sad to say. We need to hold her here.”

  “Now we’re back to where.” Colette said.

  “Put her in the bathroom with Doodad,” Barry said. “She’ll be out of our hair then.”

  Keepsie clapped her hands. “And they’ll be reunited!”

  “Keepsie, have you tried to figure out what that drug does to you?” Colette said.

  Keepsie held her arm out, admiring the glow. She reminded herself of a unicorn. “Well, I’m clearly high.”

  “Your powers, Keepsie. What about your powers?”

  “We can’t be hurt,” Michelle shrugged her shoulder without wincing. “Or rather, we heal quickly.”

  Keepsie peered at Peter’s face. The ropy burns that had streaked his face as he had labored and delivered Timson were rapidly losing their angry red color.

  Colette nodded. “What else?”

  Keepsie looked around at all of them, with everything in the bar glowing brightly with a white aura. “I can feel everything that I own, my things, my friends, my assets.” Keepsie snapped her head up. “Hey, let’s go out and see the battle!”

  Colette looked at Michelle. “Looks like you’re in charge until she comes back to us.”

  “Jumping Jesus! What the fuck happened here?”

  Ian had returned from the bathroom.

  * * * * *

  Keepsie continued to stroke Peter’s hair. He had such nice hair. Dark brown, almost black. Sure, there was blood in it, and some of the ends were curled and melted from getting too close to some fire or another, and it could stand to be washed, but it was nice because it belonged to Peter.