Playing For Keeps

by Mur Lafferty

  Michelle and Colette whispered behind the bar. Ian sat with Tomas and Barry with a stunned look on his face as they tried to explain what had happened. Ian had explained that he’d heard the screaming, but he had been on the john, and sometimes there were higher priorities.

  Keepsie realized the feeling of forgetting something important was getting familiar, and she struggled to grasp it.

  With a sigh, she lowered Peter’s head the floor, careful to keep it out of the vomit, kissed his forehead, and wandered over to Colette and Michelle.

  “So what’s the next plan?” she asked.

  “Keepsie, you saved Peter’s life by taking that drug. Probably all of our lives. But you’re, well—” Michelle trailed off.

  “—too high to help right now,” Colette finished.

  “But you gave me the drug.”

  She nodded. “I know. And I don’t regret it. But that doesn’t hide the fact that you’re no good to us right now.”

  Keepsie watched them retreat into the kitchen, still whispering. She frowned and crossed her arms. It wasn’t fair. Here she was with all this power...

  She turned and wandered into the ladies room. No one paid her any attention. They’d propped the immobile Timson up against the wall (Keepsie had been outvoted when she asked to put Timson’s feet in the toilet to keep her cool). The doctor had taken on her stone form and looked very much like a statue.

  Keepsie hefted Timson easily. “I know how to prove I’m useful.”

  She walked out into the bar and kept going nonchalantly when the three men looked up at her.

  “Keepsie,” Ian asked warily, “what are you doing?”

  “Figured I’d let the heroes know we had her,” Keepsie said. They scrambled to their feet.

  Typical. She continued to the door. Ian lunged forward and caught Keepsie’s shoulder. He was very pretty when he glowed like that. “Wait wait, you shouldn’t do that, we shouldn’t be attracting attention right now. Let them fight it out.”

  “Ian, they want her. They want me. I’m all überpowered on that Timson drug right now, let’s see what I can do!”

  “You’re also fucked up, Keepsie.” She was surprised at his gentle tone. “You really shouldn’t go out there till you start to come down. We’re rather have you as sensible Keepsie with your lame Third Wave power than überKeepsie with no sense at all.”

  Grinning at his compliments, she bristled at the end. “I do too have sense! I’m only going out there because I’m strong now.”

  “Let’s just wait till we have a plan, OK? Lots of bad stuff happens when we don’t have a plan, remember?”

  Keepsie sighed, defeated. Her head didn’t seem to be buzzing so much anymore. She put Timson down and leaned on her. “Doesn’t matter much. They already know.” She jerked her head towards the door.

  Tattoo Devil and Heretic stood in the doorway, jaws slack and eyes wide. Keepsie waved at them. “Yeah, they know we have her.”

  31

  Peter opened his eyes. He winced. Had he been snorting cayenne pepper? Crusty foulness cracked when he moved his mouth and he groaned. He passed a hand over his face and blinked. He could move his hand. He sat up suddenly and looked around.

  Keepsie, Tomas and Barry stood at the front door, looking out with frowns creasing their foreheads. Well, Tomas and Barry looked concerned. Keepsie’s eyes were wide and she was grinning. They all glowed with a soft white light.

  The light again. He held out his hand: it glowed too.

  He sneezed once, stifling it with his hand. Jesus that hurt.

  Tomas turned around. “Peter! You are awake! Are you well?” He turned from Keepsie and came to kneel by his side.

  Peter saw what Tomas had been hiding with his bulk—Timson, in a stone statue, stood by Keepsie. He sighed raggedly, feeling suddenly weaker with relief. He hadn’t felt any presence of her, but he hadn’t known if she was gone for good.

  Keepsie looked over at him and waved. “Peter! Come here! It’s looking exciting!”

  “What’s going on?” Peter asked.

  “Keepsie is high on the drug she stole from the Academy. But it looks like she saved you. Something about the drug seems to make her and her friends heal. I do not pretend to understand it.

  But she took it, and that doctor came out of your nose. It was strange.”

  Peter had never heard Tomas talk so much. “I remember everything up until the toe.”

  Tomas stared at him.

  “The toe? The one Colette hid in my food?” Peter said.

  Tomas got to his feet and went to the forgotten basket of food. He lifted the orange and made a disgusted sound. “Colette!”

  She came out of the kitchen, saw Peter, and smiled. “Doing better?”

  Peter nodded. “I think I have you to thank.”

  Tomas shook the basket at Colette. A frozen human toe, the big one, was nestled next to the fries. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  Colette didn’t blink. “If it really was Peter, he would have been able to realize it was Alex’s toe in there, and he wouldn’t have eaten. It proved his identity to us, didn’t it?” Her focus shifted to the door where heroes conferred. “Shit, why didn’t anyone call me?”

  “You don’t cut up your dead friends!”

  “We have to get out of here.”

  Tomas slammed the basket on the counter. The toe bounced out and onto the bar. He shivered back in revulsion. Keepsie left her post by the door and went to the bar. She bent down and peered at the toe from eyelevel.

  She straightened abruptly. “Did he complain at all when you cut it off?”

  Colette looked as if Keepsie had asked her to fix her a corn and squirrel sandwich. “Uh, no.”

  “And he didn’t tell you to stop or anything?”

  “Keepsie, he’s dead.”

  Keepsie rounded on Tomas, who still stared at the toe. “So if Alex doesn’t mind, why should you mind?”

  “It is not done,” Tomas said.

  Keepsie shrugged. “It worked pretty well. Let’s forget about it right now. Colette, take the toe back to its rightful owner, and please clean off the bar. With bleach. And then let’s look out the window. It’s like watching TV!”

  And indeed, it was, if TV consisted of two angry superheroes staring through the TV set looking as if they were trying to decide whether they were going to leap through the set at you or just blast you from where they were.

  Peter tried to rise and failed. He was already feeling better, but he was still amazingly weak. Keepsie came over to him and grabbed his arms.

  Peter grunted in alarm when she heaved him easily to his feet.

  Keepsie dragged him to the door. “So Peter. You’re the smart one. What should we do?”

  Peter shot a desperate glance at Colette and Michelle, who conferred in hissing tones near the bar.

  He left Keepsie’s side and went to them. “We have to get out of here.”

  They nodded. “There are lots of things we have to do.” Michelle said. “I guess we’ll have Ian and Tomas point, the rest of us following. And someone has to be in charge of making sure Keepsie doesn’t do anything stupid.” They both looked at him. He sighed.

  “I can’t lift a bar stool right now. What makes you think I can control her?”

  “You’re the only one she’ll listen to,” Colette said. “Back door, then?”

  Peter nodded.

  “We’ll go check it out. You get Keepsie.”

  He approached her, heart hammering in his chest. She was liable to do something immensely stupid, this drug was pretty intense. He tried not to think about the long-term effects.

  Tomas stood at her shoulder, looking ready to grab her if he needed to. She leaned against Timson’s stone form and watched the heroes outside the door.

  “Why aren’t they doing anything?” Peter asked.

  “I do not know,” Tomas said. “They keep whispering. They have had several opportunities to attack, but they do not.”
r />   “They’re scared of me.” The men stared at Keepsie. She nodded at them. “Yeah, they know I took their little drug. They don’t know what I can do.”

  Tomas met Peter’s eyes and he shrugged. It made sense. They didn’t stare at Peter or Tomas, they watched Keepsie wave at them.

  “We’re going out the back door, Keepsie, we’re going to try to get out of here. You can leave Timson here.”

  “What? Leave? I’m having so much fun!”

  “Keepsie.” Peter took her shoulders and turned her to look defiantly into his face. “This is not fun. We’ve been attacked, tortured, betrayed, and one of us has died. I nearly died. You nearly died. We need to get the hell out of here while we still can. Leave the city and let the big guys fight it out. We can’t beat them; we’ve tried and failed numerous times.”

  She set her jaw. Peter’s heart sank. He lowered his voice. “Please. I just found you, Keepsie. I really don’t like the thought of losing you this soon.”

  She dropped her eyes and took a long shuddering breath. “All right. Fine. But you owe me some fun.” She leaned up and kissed him quickly on the lips. “Let’s go. But first, you get cleaned up so I can kiss your proper. You taste awful.”

  Michelle ran into the bar, her face set. “No can do. The alley is full of bums. We’re trapped in here.”

  Ian laughed. “Bums? We’re afraid of bums now?”

  Peter’s eyes widened as he remembered. “That’s right. They’re using homeless people as an army.”

  “The villains?” Michelle asked.

  Peter shook his head. “The heroes. Samantha is using her lying power to control them. They’re dying by the scores.”

  They paused in shocked silence.

  Something else nagged at Peter, but he pushed it aside as he tried to think of another solution. His mind was blank. He took the wet bar towel Keepsie handed him and wiped his face absently. She went back into the kitchen.

  It was only when Heretic reared back and punched through the glass window of the front door that Peter’s mind went into full action. And it did so only to remind him that when had kissed Keepsie, he had sensed nothing.

  32

  Everyone jumped back, Ian swearing loudly.

  Heretic’s arm stretched into the room, losing momentum from her punch as her fist got further in. The last few inches looked like she had moved through molasses to get there, where her fist remained, frozen in space. Heretic’s eyes widened and she strained backwards. Nothing happened.

  Everyone was silent for a moment.

  Ian snickered. “Well goddamn.”

  “What is going on?” Michelle asked, taking a hesitant step forward.

  Colette stomped into the bar from the kitchen. “I couldn’t stop her, she just winked at me and ran out the door!”

  “What?” Peter asked, his voice low and steady.

  “Keepsie’s gone. She just ran off.”

  “How could you let her go?” Colette glared at him.

  “What did you want me to do?” Michelle turned her back on Colette and focused on Peter. “Why aren’t you more upset?”

  “Of all the things the past couple of days have showed us, the most obvious one is that Keepsie is capable of taking care of herself. And if she’s not, her power certainly is.”

  Heretic continued to strain backwards, pulling on her arm. Tattoo Devil had grabbed her shoulders.

  “If I’m not mistaken, this is Keepsie’s power at work,” Peter said.

  “Whoa, deep statement, dude,” Ian said. “The deal is, Keepsie isn’t here. How is this working?”

  “She protects us when we’re on her property. Everything in the bar is hers, and is protected by her. We’re her friends. We’re protected by her.”

  Colette frowned. “That drug she took. It’s protecting all of us.”

  Barry snorted. “How do you know all this, Peter?”

  “My—my power allows me to know this. You know that.”

  “Yeah, if you smell them, you’re ‘the Bloodhound’, but I didn’t know you could do that.”

  Peter looked up, and Barry actually stepped back at the look on Peter’s face. “If I taste them, like in a kiss, I can learn a lot more. I kissed Keepsie. I learned more about her powers. That’s how I know she can’t be killed.”

  “Dude, what’s wrong?” Ian asked, flinching at the look on Peter’s face. He looked at Colette. “You guys make sure that fist doesn’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”

  Colette stepped forward, butcher knife in hand.

  Ian pushed Peter willingly into a booth.

  “You know she’ll be OK. She can’t be killed, you said it yourself.”

  “I’m not worried about Keepsie.”

  “Then what the hell is the matter?”

  “I can’t smell, Ian. I can’t smell anything. Not even you.”

  “What, you mean you’ve lost your power?”

  Peter nodded. “Timson must have...I don’t know. I don’t know how she did what she did, or what she did in the first place. I didn’t notice until Keepsie kissed me again. I didn’t feel anything. And then when I tried to use it, I got nothing.”

  Ian sputtered. “OK, when were you and Keepsie kissing? Where the hell have I been?” Peter glared at him. “Right. Not the topic at hand. Go on.”

  “There’s nothing more to say. I’m of no use to you guys. Keepsie’s apparently keeping us safe, since nothing looks like it can get in here to hurt us. We know she can’t be killed. We’re at a stalemate. So I guess this time is as good as any to go impotent.”

  “Aw dude,” Ian gave Peter’s forearm an awkward pat. “You’re more than a power to us. That’s the point of us. We’ve all felt useless until the past couple of days, but we still stuck together. Without your and Keepsie’s brains, we all would be dead about three or four times over. That St. Peter dude would get sick of seeing us parade by. You’re like the smartest person in the room, and with Keepsie gone, we really need you. Colette is trying, sure, but she’s going to fall apart any minute now. Christ, she was cutting up Alex’s dead foot. Tell me that’s rational behavior.”

  Peter chuckled. “It worked, but I suppose there could have been a better way.”

  “So, please, to keep Colette from chopping any of us up, get up there and do some leading. Hell, no one will listen to me, which is probably for the best.”

  Peter stared at his hands. “I’ve felt like my power was pointless my whole life, and now I realize how much I used it, if unconsciously. I don’t know if I can do this.”

  Ian sighed, deflating after his “go-get-em-tiger” speech had failed. “I don’t know what to tell you, dude. All I know is we’ve got bigger problems. And I’m always here for you, but not right now. I got a hero’s arm to deal with.” He got up and left the table. Peter followed him after a moment, very much not wishing to be alone.

  “Are you OK?” Michelle asked Peter.

  Ian shook his head. “That Timson bitch scrambled his brains or something. He lost his power. He’s a little freaked out.”

  Michelle gasped and looked at Peter. “Is that all she did?”

  “I don’t know,” Peter said. “Right now we have more important things to worry about,” He pointed to the heroes outside the door as Ian slapped him on the back.

  Heretic was still stuck, and was conferring quietly with Tattoo Devil.

  “What now?” Michelle said.

  Tattoo Devil concentrated and threw his head back, eyes closed in concentration. From his abdomen leapt a bobcat, small and compact, not as deadly as a cougar but much more powerful than a housecat. The cat shook itself and then leapt for Keepsie’s window. It crashed through another pane and fell on the floor, motionless.

  “Dude. That was cool,” Ian said. He went to examine the cat. It looked like all of Keepsie’s victims, frozen entirely. He poked it; it was stiff as if dead.

  “Does Colette know how to cook bobcat? And hey, what happens to the Devil if we eat one of his tattoos?”
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  Michelle looked out the door, grinning. Ian stood and peered out of the broken pane.

  In a world with bizarre superpowers, they should not have been surprised at what they saw. But Peter grinned and Ian laughed out loud when he saw Tattoo Devil struggling, panic scribbled over his face. His arms flailed and his head lolled, his feet scrabbled over the concrete steps, but he didn’t move at all. His abdomen had been captured by Keepsie’s power, and wasn’t going anywhere.

  “Keepsie’s power rocks more and more,” Ian said. “I could watch this all day.”

  “So we’ve caught two superheroes. Now what?” Michelle said.

  “Now we fight back,” Peter said over her shoulder.

  * * * * *

  In Peter’s horror at his own loss, he hadn’t noticed that when he and Ian had gone to deal with Heretic, Colette had returned to the kitchen. Now he realized what she had been up to.

  “That,” she said, pointing to a deep fat fryer, “is safflower oil. Nearly the highest smoke point of any oil. It can get upwards of 510 degrees without catching fire. You know how they showed you horrific movies in driver’s ed to scare you into wearing a seat belt? Well, in culinary school they showed us movies of oil burn victims. It’s not pretty.”

  She moved to the stove where something bubbled in a large stockpot. “This is sugar. Mixed with a little corn syrup. This can’t get as hot as the oil can, but will work like napalm as it will stick to skin and continue to burn.”

  “That’s great, but, uh, why?” Ian asked.

  “Weapons. Think dark ages wars with the boiling oil pots.”

  “But how in the hell are we going to pour the stuff up the wall? We’re in a basement!”

  Colette snorted. “Use your imagination. That’s what we have to do to get by. If you’d prefer something more mainstream, the knives are over there. But careful, they’re sharp.” She gestured to a neat row of five knife blocks.