Busted Flush by George R. R. Martin
“You got any opinions about this, Bubbles?” asked Rustbelt in his flat Midwestern voice.
By now, I was sitting on one of the chairs next to the door. I was almost back down to my thinnest and had wanted to stay there until the PR part of the mission was over. Though it made me a little less able to kick ass right out the door, it was nice not to worry about the furniture when I sat down.
“If I’m the best choice for the job, then of course I’m fine with it,” I said. I could feel my hands tremble, so I put my coffee cup down. “But we’ll need a backup plan in case things go wrong. And do we hand Sprout over even if things start to go bad?”
“Of course we’re going to have backup, Michelle,” Fortune said. “Everyone else will be stationed around Jackson Square to keep things chilled out. Weathers is extremely dangerous, but he can’t take all of us. And I don’t think he’ll do anything that’ll put Sprout at risk.”
Brave Hawk whispered something to Lohengrin, who nodded. I wondered what that was all about.
“Okay,” Fortune said as he unrolled a map of Jackson Square onto the large coffee table. “Here’s where I’m going to position each of you.”
“Are we going to meet Daddy?”
“Yep,” I said. “You remember what we said, right?”
Sprout smiled at me and tugged on my ponytail. “Yes, Daddy needs to talk to John Fortune before we can go home. I need to stay with you until Daddy and John Fortune are done talking.”
I brushed back the fine tendrils of hair that had escaped her braid. She looked up at me with guileless blue eyes.
At that moment, I hated everyone who had put her and Drake into this position. Her father, Noel, and the rest of the assholes who thought that Drake was a pawn for their megalomaniacal dreams. And I really hated myself for helping them.
She took my hand, and we went back into the living room where Fortune and the others were waiting.
John Fortune, Sprout, and I were standing in the middle of Jackson Square. We’d done a pretty amazing job of getting some of the Quarter back on its feet. Though the lamps on the gate were shattered, the square was looking remarkably good. Gardener had replaced the trees and other plants that had been destroyed. And the statue of Andrew Jackson was unchanged. We stood at its base.
My clothes felt tight. Before coming for the meeting, I’d had one of Hoodoo Mama’s zombies pound on me a bit. I still wasn’t big, exactly, but I wanted some firepower, just in case.
We were in a good tactical position. On all four sides we had a clear sightline. Odds were that no one was going to sneak up on us here.
“Where’s Daddy?” Sprout asked.
“He’ll be here soon, honey,” I replied. “Why don’t you stay with John Fortune for a moment and I’ll see if he’s coming.”
I walked around the statue, checking our position. Cameo and Earth Witch were sitting on benches near the entrance to the park. Hoodoo Mama had helped clear the usual street people from the square, so we didn’t have to worry about civilians getting caught in the middle should anything bad go down. I knew Hoodoo Mama was still somewhere nearby, but she was really good at hiding.
Bugsy was in swarm form. He kept making swooping passes around the square. And it was hard to hide Toad Man—Volkswagen-sized toads, kinda hard to explain. From the other side of the park, I could see Lohengrin’s armor shining in the sun.
I went back to Fortune and Sprout.
“Did you see anything?” Fortune asked.
I shook my head. “Not yet. I can’t believe he’s delaying this.”
Fortune shrugged and kept looking around. “My mother says he was bad news back in the day. He’s clever and more than a little nuts.”
Sweat began beading on my forehead and upper lip. It was muggy as hell, but I was also feeling nervous. I’d gone up against Golden Boy and gotten my ass handed to me. This Weathers guy was known to be unpredictable, and there was no telling what we might get. Those old aces were scary.
There was the whooping sound of a helicopter. I looked up. We’d talked to the local flight authorities, and they’d agreed to suspend all traffic over the Quarter for the afternoon.
A black helicopter appeared over St. Louis Cathedral, heading right toward us.
“What the hell?” Fortune said. “That can’t be Weathers.”
Then, over the sound of the blades, we heard, “This is William Ray, head of the Special Committee for Ace Resources and Endeavors. We have warrants from the United Sates government for the arrest of all Committee members. Surrender peacefully or we will use deadly force.”
Then the side door of the helicopter opened and I saw one ace fly out, swooping around the square. Ropes dropped and more SCARE agents slid down, landing about fifteen feet from us. I recognized Lady Black, Moon, and the Midnight Angel from Cross Plains. I figured the rest were aces, too. No one else could handle us. The helicopter flew off.
Billy Ray emerged from the midst of the aces wearing his usual pristine jumpsuit. He strode up to us followed by the Midnight Angel. I knew they were married now. Ink had said so in one of her e-mails.
Sprout gave a frightened cry and ran behind me. I understood why. Billy Ray’s face was a mass of scars. Thick pink tissue crisscrossed the suntanned planes of his face. His eyes were cold. But I wasn’t worried. He was strong, but brute force didn’t frighten me in the least. And I had the psychological advantage. I’d taken him once already.
I saw the rest of the SCARE agents fanning out across the park. Crap. This was not good. These SCARE jerks could hose our trade with Weathers.
“John Fortune, Michelle Pond,” Billy Ray said. “I am placing you under arrest.”
Sprout had wrapped her arms around me and buried her face in my back.
“Are you insane?” Fortune asked. “Billy Ray, you have no jurisdiction over us. We’re part of the UN. And there was a no-fly order for this section.”
“I’m an agent of the United States government,” Billy Ray said, coming closer to Fortune. He leaned in until his spittle was hitting Fortune’s face. “You’re on U.S. soil. You’re U.S. citizens. Do I really need to draw you a map here?”
John’s forehead began to glow. Sekhmet was getting pissed.
“Look around, Billy Ray,” I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking with anger. This asshat had almost gotten Drake and Niobe killed. Not to mention that his Lady Black bitch had put a mad hurt on me. “You’ve got about a dozen aces. Not only do we have as many, but we’ve got a little extra somethin’ somethin’.” I pointed and Billy Ray turned around and saw what we’d been holding back for Weathers.
An army of zombies had suddenly surrounded Jackson Square. A lot of them had been floaters, which gave them a really horrible appearance. They stood there, silent, impervious, devoid of humanity.
I looked around, checking on our people. Earth Witch was flexing her hands, glancing around, looking for lines of sight. Cameo began to spin slowly, building up layers of dust. I saw a swarm of insects hovering near one of the SCARE aces, so I knew Bugsy was good to go.
Lohengrin was doing a propeller-fast pattern with his sword. The sunlight was glinting off his brilliant armor. Something small and lethally fast pinged into the dirt between me and Fortune and Billy Ray and the Midnight Angel. Curveball was making her presence known.
Noel was somewhere close by and I was hoping that Billy Ray would get the idea that this was a fight he didn’t want. Weathers was due at any moment, and the last thing we needed was a full-on brawl in progress when he showed up.
Fortune began to glow even brighter. Crap. I did not want Sekhmet appearing right now.
“Daddy!” Sprout cried. She let go of my waist and ran in front of me, flinging her arms into the air and dancing around with her head tilted back.
We all looked up. Coming down out of the sky at an incredible rate was a bright yellow streak. Then the streak landed, and a bare-chested man dressed in low-slung, faded bell-bottom jeans appeared. He had sun-streaked hair
Fortune grabbed Sprout and pushed her toward me. I folded her into my arms in a hug.
“I want Daddy,” she said, pouting at me.
“I know, sweetie, but remember what we talked about.”
It was getting hard to look at Fortune now. An aura surrounded him, bright gold.
“Let the boy go, Weathers,” Fortune said.
“Oh, The Man wants me to let the boy go,” Weathers said in a nasty voice. He flexed his biceps, squeezing Drake. But Drake didn’t start crying. I wanted to bubble the hell out of Weathers.
“The Man’s got to control all the power in the world,” Weathers said. It was freaky how persuasive he suddenly sounded to me. “Can’t let anyone else use any power.”
“Let the boy go,” Fortune said again. “Sprout wants her daddy.”
Weathers glanced at me and Sprout. His face softened and you could see that he loved her. He dropped Drake, who landed hard on his hands and knees.
“Drake,” I said in as calm a voice as I could. “Come to me.”
“Let Sprout go,” Weathers said.
“Not until Drake is over here.” I stared right into Weathers’s face. I knew he had a lot of power, but I also knew I wasn’t going to let him intimidate me.
Drake scrambled to his feet and ran to me. As soon as he touched my hand, I let Sprout go.
She ran to Weathers and they embraced. Their golden heads bent together. Family reunion.
After Weathers checked Sprout and saw she was okay, he looked back at the rest of us. The expression on his face was pure, mad hatred.
“Don’t try anything,” Fortune said. “There are dozens of aces here. You can’t take us all down.”
I glanced around. The SCARE aces had obviously decided that Weathers was a bigger threat than we were. They had turned their attention from us to him and were slowly circling.
“To hell with you and the Committee, Fortune,” Weathers said. “And those nimrods from SCARE. What I want now is Bahir. I frown on people who kidnap my child.”
Fortune laughed. “You’re not getting Bahir,” he said. “You’ve got Sprout. We’ve got Drake. End of conversation.”
A cruel smile formed on Weathers’s face. Bad as his angry face was, this one was worse. There was a horrible feeling in my gut. Worse than when those helicopters had gone down in Egypt and all those people had died.
Weathers gave a yank at the medallion around his neck. The leather cord broke, leaving a thin line of blood on his neck. He began to swing the medallion around. It reminded me of Lohengrin patterning his sword. It spun faster and faster, glinting in the sun.
My hands started shaking. Drake had hold of one of them, and he squeezed it.
“You were always a clever boy, Fortune,” Weathers said. The medallion whirred. “I could have used you in The Movement. But you had to go and work for the government.” He moved backward, taking Sprout with him. “Oh, wait, you work for all the governments. That makes you the worst traitor of all.”
He kissed Sprout on the forehead and opened his free arm wide. “Hop up, baby.” Sprout wrapped her arms and legs around him as if she really were a four-year-old. And he began to slowly rise into the air.
“I can’t kill you all,” he said, looking around the park. “But he can.”
The medallion flew from his hand and hit Drake in the chest. Drake stood there, frozen for a moment. Then he staggered back, pushing me into the statue of Andrew Jackson, and we both fell against the statue. Weathers shot into the sky and disappeared.
“Drake!” I cried. “Oh, my God, Drake!”
I slid out from behind him, then looked down and saw that the medallion was buried in his chest. Drake reached a shaking hand up and touched the blood, then pulled the medallion out of his chest. He held it up in front of his face as if he couldn’t decide what it was. His eyes began to glow.
A cold knife went into my heart.
I looked up and saw Cameo, Hoodoo Mama, and Earth Witch running toward us.
“Stop!” I shouted. As if that would save them.
“God help us,” I heard a velvety voice say. I looked up and saw the Midnight Angel hovering above us.
“Get out of here! Get everyone out!”
“Michelle!” screamed Cameo.
“Go! Everyone go! Now!”
I turned to Fortune. But at that moment, he started screaming. His golden glow had intensified. Squinting, I saw his hand go up to his face.
“No,” he said as his body twitched and spasmed. “No . . . NO . . . NO!” His head jerked around like a hooked fish. The scarab that was always outlined against his forehead was moving . . . getting bigger . . . expanding . . . until his flesh burst apart. Fortune shrieked, and blood covered his face and ran down his chest.
Sekhmet.
The golden radiance abandoned Fortune, and he collapsed to the ground. Sekhmet scurried toward Drake, and I was too shocked to stop her from crawling up his leg and then into the hole in his chest.
Sekhmet and Fortune had struggled for control between them for as long as I knew. But maybe she could control Drake. Maybe she could stop him.
Drake began to kick, and his back bowed. He began to babble in a language I’d never heard before. But the light wasn’t just coming out of his eyes anymore. It filled his mouth, beamed out from his ears. The hole in Drake’s chest began to sizzle and smell like frying bacon as the white-hot light poured from his wound.
“NO! NO!” he yelled in a strange voice. “By the light of all the Gods, I cannot stop him!”
“Drake,” I said, shaking him. “Drake, Sekhmet, look at me!”
He looked at me and I was afraid.
“Let it go,” I said. “But let it come to me.”
I guess there’s always a moment when we have to make a choice. And sometimes, there’s just no choice to be made. You do what you can, and you hope it’s enough.
I pulled Drake into my arms and held him as tight as I could. I hoped that Ink would find someone who would love her better. And I hoped that Niobe would be happy, even if it was with Noel. I hoped like hell that the whole damn city wouldn’t be ruined.
I hoped that I would be enough.
He exploded.
I felt my body instantly expand to its maximum size. The power raged into me like molten lead. It burned and sang and made me want to bubble forever. The concrete cracked under us as I became heavier and heavier.
The power went on and on, building inside me, but I couldn’t let it escape.
I dropped to my knees with Drake collapsing in my arms. And still the power came into me. It was like being bathed in a never-ending fire. I couldn’t have stopped it even if I’d wanted to. And I didn’t want to.
This was what it felt like to touch God.
I opened my eyes to the sky, and I looked directly into the sun overhead.
And it didn’t blind me.
Just Cause: Part IV
Carrie Vaughn
LIMBO
KATE SAT CURLED UP in a chair by John’s hospital bed. She’d come here to explain to him in person. She hadn’t known he would be in the hospital. The timing of all this was shitty.
He’d have a scar, the doctors said. They’d stitched the wound as well as they could, but Sekhmet had done a lot of damage when she tore out of his head. He was lucky he hadn’t bled to death.
Sekhmet had done a lot of damage to him, period.
His forehead was bandaged, so she couldn’t see the wound. Probably for the best. John seemed to be sleeping soundly for the first time in . . . For the first time since she’d started sleeping with him. His expression was slack rather than tense with unconscious anxiety.
She thought she might try to find some soda or coffee or something. Straightening, she winced—her arm was still sore. She’d stopped taking the pain pills. They made her fuzzy. She wanted to stay sharp, for just a little while l
Then she could collapse into a sobbing puddle of tears, when no one was looking.
As she stood, John opened his eyes.
“Hey,” she said, moving to his side.
He gave a tired smile. He might not be able to do much more than that for now. Maybe they ought to enjoy this time, this moment in limbo, before they had to make any decisions.
“You’re here.” He even managed to sound surprised. “I thought you were pissed off at me.”
“I am,” she said. “I was. We can talk about that later.”
He shook his head, annoyed, and tried to sit up. Winced, slumped back, and picked at the IV line, which had become tangled with his hand. She helped straighten it.
“This changes everything. It’s all different now,” he said.
“What are you talking about?”
His weak smile turned bitter. “I’m right back where I started. No powers. Nothing. I’ll be resigning from the Committee. Then . . . I don’t know.”
If ever there was a moment she wanted to throw something at him, this was it. “Is that what this is about? You feeling sorry for yourself because you don’t have a beetle woman living in your head anymore?”
He frowned. “She wasn’t that bad.”
“Not that bad? She—”
“She left me,” he said. “She chose me, and then she left me, and it’s like I’m . . . I’m empty. I feel empty.”
Kate felt the expression of horror on her face, and she couldn’t erase it. John actually sounded sad that he had his own life back.
And for the first time Kate realized that with their telepathic and emotional link, he’d been closer to Isra than he’d ever be to her.
Kate closed her eyes and took a breath. Probably shouldn’t be yelling in a hospital room. But she wanted to.
“John. It’s so nice to be talking to just you for a change.”
“Even if I’m just a nat.”
“I liked you before Sekhmet ever came along. It has nothing to do with anybody’s powers.”