Playing For Keeps

by Mur Lafferty

Peter dropped the gore-soaked towel into the trashcan and grabbed a new one. Colette glared at him. “Pick that up. Vincent can clean it.”

  “You’re concerned about that now?”

  “We’ve destroyed Keepsie’s front window, now we’re going to be throwing her mugs at the homeless. Don’t make her buy new towels too.”

  Keepsie was going to have a lot more to worry about than linen replacement when all of this was over, but Peter didn’t want to argue with her. He plucked the bloody towel from the trash and put it on the floor. The health inspector was unlikely to visit during the battle, and even if she did, she would be a little more upset at the nine-toed dead body in storage rather than the bloody towel on the floor.

  Blood dripped down his chin, and he remembered to put the towel to his nose tighter. How much blood could someone lose through his nose before passing out?

  He forced the thought from his mind and stood by Michelle. The hoboes in the alley had not yet noticed her. They sat against the walls, resting.

  Peter leaned in close to Michelle. “Can you control it to knock them out instead of kill them?”

  Michelle took a deep breath and set her jaw. “I can try. Untested skill here. Going for the one on the right.”

  As easily as if she were throwing a discus, Michelle threw the bar tray and it left her hands, spinning. She watched it, her lips pursed and her eyes slit. She relaxed with a sigh as the tray hit the man in the belly. The glasses, free from her will, flew off, slamming into the wall on one side and his companion on the other.

  He grunted and fell heavily. His friend fell as well, the mug to the head knocking him out.

  “Two down,” she said, hefting another loaded tray to her shoulder.

  Response was nearly instantaneous. The other three ran toward them, yelling.

  Peter loaded her tray again. He winced as the heavy mugs found their homes, knocking the pathetic men down. All five were knocked out or moaning, and on a whim, Peter dashed outside.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Michelle said, loading her own tray.

  “We forgot about Ghostheart!” Peter yelled back. He knelt beside one man who moaned as he clutched his bleeding head. “Ghostheart lied to you.”

  The man’s eyes flew open. “Well fry me up with a dumpling. So she did. That little whore.”

  Peter fought to keep from smiling. “Are you all right?”

  The man winced but sat up. “Hell, boy, I’ve had hangovers worse than this.”

  “Do you think you can pass the word on? Once you know her secret, she can’t control you.”

  The man nodded and staggered to his feet. He and Peter spoke to the remaining felled warriors of the hobo army, and all of them except for the one knocked out were angry and fully ready to spread the word through the rest of the army that the heroes had used them as cannon fodder.

  The hoboes walked purposefully toward the street but then stopped as one, their mouths open. They turned around and ran back toward Peter, picking up their friend and heading down into the bar.

  “What the hell?” asked Michelle, who had joined Peter. They ventured out into the street and stared.

  Peter swallowed. “I honestly thought I couldn’t be surprised any more.”

  Michelle’s voice was level. “I guess that’s another one of Doodad’s enhanced machines.”

  “Guess so.”

  Jack stood atop the stairs of the ruins of the Academy, holding a metallic hoop. The air inside the hoop swirled and shimmered, and a leathery winged creature emerged from it, twisted rabbit-from-the-hat trick.

  Michelle cleared her throat. “Dimensional portal?”

  “Looks like it.”

  “Back inside?”

  “Definitely.”

  * * * * *

  Peter and Michelle dashed down the stairs and into the kitchen just in time to save the five hoboes from Colette’s wrath.

  Peter panted. “OK, Colette, we can use your napalm now.”

  Colette frowned at him. “Why?”

  “Doodad made another machine when he was enhanced by Zupra-Ex. A sort of dimensional portal.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Michelle peered back outside. “I think it means he’s building a demon army.”

  Colette threw her hands into the air. “Demon army! Hobo army! Can this day get any weirder?”

  Ian ran into the kitchen. “Hey guys, the heroes and homeless ran off, the coast is clear, let’s get out of here!”

  Peter shook his head and explained why that would be bad. The color drained from Ian’s face.

  The first man Peter had freed from Ghostheart’s influence stepped forward. “Our friends are still out there.”

  Pater wiped at his nose again. “Fine. Ian, you’re with me. Michelle and Tomas, you hold the fort. Everyone else, do what Colette tells you.”

  He sighed and ran back into the alley, Ian following him.

  “Cover me while I spread the word,” Peter said, running into the street at trying to ignore the screeching above their heads.

  “Cover what?” Ian said. “There’s monsters above us and a zombie hobo army below!”

  Peter dodged a stick thrown by a dirty older woman. “They’re not zombies. Or hobos. They’re just tricked.” He got closer to the woman who looked for something else to throw. “Ghostheart lies. She’s controlling you.”

  The woman snapped out of her fury immediately.

  “Please tell others. The more we have telling, the faster we can get people to safety.”

  She nodded and turned to a man next to her. Peter sighed as he backed down and turned to others.

  That immediate threat stifled for the moment, he ventured a look upward.

  Three—monsters? Demons? What were they?—flew on wide, black wings above them, attacking the heroes, who fought in confused terror.

  “They’re pretty much focusing on the heroes now,” Ian said. He paused to hit an attacking man in the face with a finely-focused stream of filth, and Peter gingerly approached the man to deliver the information.

  “I feel like a missionary,” he said.

  Ian pointed to where Ghostheart was watching them, her face contorted with fury. “Uh oh, dude, we need to head back.”

  Ghostheart’s army was turning for sure, now, some of the people melting back into the shadows from where they had come, but others advancing angrily on Ghostheart. Her fury turned to fear, and she looked up at where White Lightning fought the circling demons.

  “He can’t help her now,” Peter said. “Should we?”

  For once there was no sense of irony or humor in Ian’s voice.

  “No.”

  * * * * *

  Clever Jack’s portal continued to give birth to more monstrous creatures. Peter and Ian watched them with a wary eye as they ran back to the alley.

  Peter was heading down the stairs first, relieved at everything going right for once, when Ian gave a garbled cry of pain behind him.

  A creature had swooped down and grabbed Ian’s shoulders, sinking in its claws. He screamed, and Peter reached out and grabbed his arms as the creature began flapping its wings, trying to carry Ian off. Tomas ran from the kitchen and grabbed Peter. He heaved and they all fell backwards, Ian tumbling in over everyone, bringing the creature with him. It froze the moment it passed through the doorway.

  The creature’s sharp claws were deep into his arms. He groaned and closed his eyes as Tomas managed to pry its claws apart. He flung it aside and Michelle pressed towels on the bleeding gouges.

  “How was it going out front?” Colette asked.

  Peter watched Ian, worried. “I think we’re clear, Ghostheart’s army is broken up. But Clever Jack keeps pulling out those…things.” The homeless men sighed with relief.

  Colette began wrapping tape around Ian’s towels to hold them in place. “Any sign of Keepsie?”

  “None,” Ian said.

  Peter rubbed his face. “We have to believe she’ll be all right. She can take
care of herself.”

  “And if she can’t, well, she’s got the strongest power of us all,” Barry said. “It’s not like I can throw my legs at those things or anything.”

  No, he couldn’t. Peter stared at the immobile monster on the floor. He thought about the heroes, immobile ones pulled into the bar. He thought of the demons lurking in the alley. And then he smiled.

  “I’ve got an idea. I’ll need Barry and Tomas for the next round.”

  * * * * *

  He told them his plan. They stared at him. Tomas laughed. Barry turned white and scowled at his friend. “Sure, laugh, it’s not like it’s you out there.”

  Tomas continued to chuckle. “What is wrong? It is a perfect plan. Peter, you are the king of plans. We live with insignificant powers our entire lives, and we cannot think of ways to use them until we meet you!”

  Barry glared at them. “I’ll try it. Once. And if I can’t handle it, we stop, all right?”

  “What, you want a safe word, Barry?” Ian asked, pale from blood loss.

  “A what?”

  He grinned and Michelle snickered. “Never mind.”

  Tomas put his hand on Barry’s shoulder. “Of course, Barry. If you do not think this will work, we try something else.”

  “It should be fine, Barry,” Peter said, hoping he was telling the truth.

  The two men got into position, Barry in front and Tomas behind him, their arms linked.

  “Are you ready?” Tomas asked.

  “I’m going to die, you know that, right? This is not going to work and I’m going to die.”

  “Are you ready?”

  Barry took a deep breath and nodded. He walked outside and put his leg on the step as if he planned to ascend.

  Immediately a creature swooped down, grabbing for him. He kicked up, making his leg the first thing the demon could grab. It sank its teeth in and tried to carry him away, but Tomas heaved backwards, easily pulling the two of them into the kitchen.

  Barry overbalanced with the creature attached to him. He toppled back into Tomas, whose strength gave out and they landed in a heap. Barry made a disgusted noise at the immobile thing on top of him and pulled himself free from his leg. Peter dragged the creature, still clutching Barry’s leg, off to the side.

  Barry lay on the floor panting until his leg grew back. He winced and moved his legs around. “I think I pulled a groin muscle.”

  “Sucks to be you,” Ian said as Colette secured his makeshift bandage on his right arm.

  “Can you go again? There are more out there,” Tomas said, peeking outside.

  Barry slowly got to his feet. He didn’t say anything, but got in front of the door again.

  “I just hope someone notices that we’re doing everyone's jobs tonight,” he said.

  35

  “What in the hell?” Keepsie said as she saw Clever Jack bringing the creatures through the portal.

  Light of Mornings sniffled—she’d been crying since she told Keepsie about the pregnancy—and waved her hand. “Oh, Doodad took that superdrug shit and built a bunch of stuff that could work without him. I think they’re seriously scared of you. That’s a portal thing that can tap into some demon dimension or something.”

  “Great.”

  Keepsie watched the fighting on Main Street and decided to try to sneak Light of Mornings in through the alley. Knowing that she could use some nuclear backup to get into the bar safely, Keepsie was trying to figure out how to ask for help without sounding like she was using the woman as Clever Jack had. Then again, would the baby be immune to the mother’s radiation? Well, the damage from the earlier fight would have destroyed it already, so there’s probably nothing more it could do.

  “Can I count on you to defend yourself if you have to? Are you up to that?” Keepsie asked, watching the heroes and demons battle. They hid behind a dumpster so that Keepsie could collect her thoughts.

  Light of Mornings nodded, sniffling. She wiped her eyes with her sleeve.

  “OK, run when I say run.”

  Keepsie took off, hugging the buildings and willing herself invisible. If only that had been her power, but then with that she’d likely have been able to enter the Academy. And none of this would be happening.

  But it wasn’t her power. A demon flew at her, screeching. Oh, now you attack me, when the drug’s worn off.

  There was a bright light and the demon evaporated, covering Keepsie in a shower of ash. She coughed and wiped her eyes. “Thanks.”

  “Let’s go.”

  They ran again.

  The alley had one or two demons in it, not nearly as many as Keepsie had expected. Light of Mornings raised her hand, but Keepsie stopped her.

  “Wait.” She wanted to see what was going to happen, but she was also worried about whether her power was protecting her against this radiation. She was not impervious to damage, and Light of Morning’s radiation was no longer hostile against her. Fairly certain she could be killed by an accident, she didn’t want to experience any more friendly fire from Light of Mornings than she had to.

  One demon swooped down and shouting filled the alley, then some swearing. The creature did not come back up. The last demon, a winged snake, attacked, and this time instead of shouting, there was screaming.

  Keepsie nearly retched when she got to the top of the stairs. Barry lay at the bottom of the stairs, struggling with a python-like demon that had swallowed his arm to the shoulder. He screamed and fought, not with the demon, but with Tomas.

  “God, don’t pull me inside, you’ll never get it off!”

  “Well he sure as hell can’t leave it on!” Ian yelled.

  The demon inched up Barry’s arm and he groaned.

  “Can you rip it in half, Tomas?” asked Colette.

  Barry was hysterical. “Someone kill it, just kill it!”

  They hadn’t yet noticed Keepsie and Light of Mornings. In the corner of her eye, Keepsie saw Light of Mornings begin to glow. “No, wait—”

  Two narrow, bright yellow beams shone from the girl’s eyes, bisecting the demon. She misjudged the distance, however, and the bottom half of the demon—and Barry’s hand with it—fell onto the steps cleanly.

  The wound, cauterized immediately, smoked slightly. Barry’s screaming intensified and he flailed against Tomas’ grasp. The top half of the dead creature slithered off his arm, and Barry fell against Tomas in a faint.

  Peter and Ian yelled in surprise and ran out the door. Colette followed them, wielding a cleaver.

  Keepsie held up her shaking hand. “Stop, guys. She’s with me.”

  * * * * *

  “You’re still high.”

  “She cut off his fucking hand.”

  “We can’t trust her.”

  “What happened?”

  Keepsie sat at the bar sipping a glass of water. Colette, Peter, Michelle and Ian surrounded her. Light of Mornings and Tomas sat in the kitchen, Tomas watching her and the still-unconscious Barry at the same time.

  Keepsie quietly told the story of finding Light of Mornings. She explained she was not high. She mentioned how Light of Mornings’ companions had betrayed her and how she needed friends. She reminded them about how it was to their benefit that the most powerful person, either villain or hero, was on their side now.

  She did not tell them about her pregnancy.

  “How do you know she’s on our side?” Colette demanded. “She took off Barry’s hand like it was butter!”

  “She saved him. She just made a mistake in the distance. If we’re going to persecute for mistakes, then I suppose all of us need to line up for the next stone’s throw. I’ll be first. Who’s behind me?” She looked at Ian. He had the grace to avoid her gaze.

  Keepsie shifted her gaze to Peter. “Look. We’re safe in here. She can’t hurt us. We know that much.”

  He looked at her with a crease in his forehead that he hadn’t had before. “I suppose we can see how things go.”

  His blasé manner angered Keepsie. “It
’s not like you have a choice. You don’t want her around, you’re free to leave. The back alley is clear for the moment.”

  She got off her stool and slid between Colette and Peter.

  “Keepsie—” Michelle said.

  Keepsie tromped into the kitchen. Light of Mornings had given Barry a pillow of a bar towel and she was crying again. She held his one hand to her chest and sobbed.

  Tomas came up to Keepsie, his face fixed in his typical “you Americans confuse me” expression. “She killed a hero. Incinerated him. Attacked you. These things did not concern her. She cut off a man’s hand and cannot be consoled.”

  “Cutting off his hand was an accident. That’s what’s different. When you try to save someone and end up hurting them, that can be somewhat upsetting.”

  “Barry will be all right, yes? His power, I mean.”

  “I would guess so. It’s a strange power. We don’t know if it applies to his whole body or just his legs or what. But he still feels the pain of having his hand cut off, and that can’t be fun to experience. He looks like shit, by the way. We need to get him to the hospital.”

  “Him. Michelle. Ian. Peter. You.” Tomas ticked them off on his fingers. Keepsie smiled slightly.

  “Course, I could always take another one of those pills, that should cure him.”

  “No,” Colette said harshly. Keepsie jumped; she hadn’t heard her enter.

  “You saw what that drug did to Timson. We have had enough of you out of your mind as well. Look what you bring back when you’re high,” she indicated the wailing woman on the floor.

  “I’m not high! And I wasn’t when I found her. Do you really want an all-powerful fifteen-year-old roaming the streets? She needs someone to watch her. If Clever Jack finds her, he’ll use her. If the heroes find her, they’ll provoke her. She’s safest here.”

  “But are we?” Peter asked.

  Keepsie gritted her teeth. “You’re safest in the bar. Don’t want to be here? Fine.”

  Peter crouched down beside her. “I was not freed from Timson’s control until you took the pill. We don’t know how safe we are. What if she is controlled in the same way?