Keeley Thomson (Book 2): Keelzebub (6 page)

Darla went still, thinking. After nearly a minute, she nodded.

“That’s about the size of it. Well, time for damage control then. This kind of thing is why we didn’t hand you over to him… Reckless. It should be fine for the time being, but try not to let on that you know what he did when you meet with him tomorrow. We need to get back to normal space before your hand burns up completely. Good job holding that though. I didn’t really think you’d manage it. That’s high level pain control for someone as young as you are…”

Keeley looked down at her fingers, which were on fire now, and tried to increase the speed she was healing at. Darla passed the box to her, signaling she should drop the key inside. It was still just silver in color, not glowing, not even blackened by her fingers. They stuck to the metal though, melting to it a bit, just before it dropped in, Keeley shaking it off a bit she grinned.

“I smell like cooked pork.”

Darla winked.

“People do. Taste like it too.”

With that, the key dropped and Darla closed the lid, making a small tapping sound when it sealed, the then a small whirring noise as the gears all snapped back into their original place, the key on the top turned back and Darla took it out, quickly slipping the silver thing back into her jeans pocket.

Then she moved to dump the black bag on Keeley’s bed without preamble. Snacks. It was all junk food, cheep, high calorie stuff that even a few weeks before she’d have turned her nose up at. Now they tasted wonderful. Then given everything her sister had probably just gotten her to do the equivalent of running a hundred miles or something as far as energy use went. She liked to do that on occasion, as if it were a test, or maybe a game.

A good time fun fest for all?

Except for the fact that Keeley had bone sticking out the end of her hand at the moment. It was crispy and gross looking and really did smell like charred pork chops. That Darla knew what human flesh tasted like was probably for exactly the reason it seemed. She knew, because at some point or another, she’d eaten it.

The really sick thing to Keeley’s mind was, as hungry as she was anymore, constantly needing to eat something, anything, she could see it. Just get trapped somewhere, or run out of regular food, and how long would it take to realize that the guy next to you looked a bit tasty? Being all made of meat like people were. Then five seconds to get rid of the bad feelings about it and however long it took to prepare the flesh.

Yeah, it made her sick to think of in the moment, but she made that go away with half a thought, almost instantly. Which showed just how easily it could really happen. She decided not to ask Darla about it. Live long enough and things were bound to happen, weren’t they?

Instead she got her half sister to start opening the little, totally clear, wrappers on the snack cakes and started eating, with her unburned hand. Focusing a little harder she tried to make her hand heal faster. It wasn’t an instant thing, and it took a lot of work, but her mentor kept watching closely, as she handed off treats. Half an hour later she pointed at the mainly healed hand and gave her a thumbs up.

They didn’t talk, since there was no noise canceling going on and disciplined paid off in situations like this. Without saying anything she cleaned up the mess, stuffing wrappers of six different types back into the bag and handed it off to the other girl.

Keeley’s mother might just know about her now, but that wouldn’t make her OCD go away. Knowing food had even been in the room would probably bug her. Even if the wrappers got thrown in the trash can in the corner.

The whole thing was a mess now though. Or it seemed like it. At any moment Keeley expected some Demon or Vampire to burst through the wall and attack, taking care of the problem before it became a real issue.

The problem being her.

Sigh.

Darla left the same way she came, just stepping sideways, to the left this time, but from a different position, a single blue flash of light in a line, one slightly more intense in the middle, which left a spot in her field of vision and then a sense of Darla, moving away. Quickly.

Keeley just worked the rest of the night.

It was handy, having learned how to not need sleep anymore. She could do it, fall asleep, if she wanted, but for now it left her with a lot of free time to get things done. First her homework. That took all of an hour, since she tried to hurry, making herself really feel the knowledge seep into her long term memory. Then she looked up caterers in the area. There were seven of them that she could find listings for, which meant looking them up online, just to save time in the morning.

One of them had a big wedding the next day, so that was out and another had more bad reviews, clearly written by several different people, than any company actually still in business should have. Most reviews, for anything, were a trick of course. Either people promoting themselves, or attacking a rival. These had that rare feel of being genuine though. Those people and their loved ones had been taken in by a slick appearance, but the goods just weren’t delivered.

The rest looked promising enough. They could still be busy, sure, and just not have that advertised on the web, but it couldn’t hurt to call or visit.

It took until nearly five in the morning for her hand to really heal all the way and Keeley had everything she could get done at the moment actually finished. It was cool, but reminded her she should find a hobby or two. Maybe martial arts? Smiling she shrugged.

When in doubt, read, right?

It took about ten minutes to work out that every single martial arts program in the world, at least the ones she could find on the web, proclaimed themselves as being the very best in all ways. She was able to find a nice, very old, book on the subject though, that stripped the subject to its bare bones, using only what really worked. It was, with some minor changes, what Darla had been showing her the day before.

The work had been written in the nineteen-forties, but didn’t have a specific date on it. The whole thing felt logical though. Sensible, without a lot of space wasted talking about emotions, honor or social conventions. After a bit Keeley got that it had been written by someone not human. Maybe not one of her people, but someone with a similar mindset for sure.

She committed the whole thing to memory, and found a small avalanche of information hitting her from Tarsus’ library in her head. It made sense that some things about fighting would be in there, didn’t it? It came up.

She got ready for her day in the normal fashion, but dressed in slightly nicer clothing, black slacks and a button up blouse in white. It looked like what the band kids wore to perform in, but that was fine. It beat blue jeans for professionalism and wouldn’t leave her dad thinking she was going out to pick up men instead of working.

She hoped. It probably wouldn’t work, would it?

Mental problems were like that. Irrational. Kind of why they were a problem.

Keeley waited in the living room, just sitting and playing with her ability to control her body and mind, practicing really. She ran through the normal stuff, first making something happen, then making the feeling go away. She remembered the fear of Balthias standing in front of her ready to kill, and then damped it down to nothing. Then she remembered what it felt like to be jazzed up, on a caffeine high. It made her sick, and feel both jittery and like she wanted to die, just a bit. She made the bad parts go away, just leaving the energy.

Then she tried something she hadn’t before. Making it stronger. It took more focus, because it wasn’t just a memory of something she already knew, just imagination. It still worked though. Yes, it took a lot longer, minutes instead of seconds, but by the end of the first three Keeley wondered if she could survive doing this for long. Her heart was racing faster than it ever had, her skin had stopped tingling and vibrated. Literally, to the point where her body was actually making a light humming sound.

She smiled and damped it back down. There was no need to run through thousands of calories in energy in a few seconds like that. It was definitely beyond what was normal though, wasn’t it? A regular person probably couldn’t have done any of that at all. Or survived if they had.

Then, remembering what she’d thought about before, with the strength and speed thing, wondering if she could do something similar there, she tried to remind her body what it felt like to move really fast. She fought for blinding speed beyond all she’d even known then, gracefully, quickly put her left foot forward and threw a single punch with her right hand, just as hard and fast as she could.

It was decent, but didn’t seem all that special.

Then she tried to increase the speed part. After two minutes of concentration she readied herself and tried again, feeling a little excited. Throwing the punch felt good, but it didn’t seem any faster at all. A little slower even. She was ready to feel a little disappointment when she turned her head and saw Sherry walking in.

In slow motion.

It didn’t take long for her to figure it out. It had worked, she just didn’t feel it the way she’d thought.

 Interesting.

It didn’t seem like anything at all to her. Her mom was still taking the next step, and hadn’t noticed her yet, just starting to look up. That gave Keeley full seconds to get back to normal, didn’t it? That was easier to do, because she knew what it was like to be normal. It happened almost with a snap, and Sherry started walking at regular speed between one heartbeat and the next.

Keeley turned smoothly, smiling.

“Good morning!” She made her voice bright, but not too loud. After all, it was early and her dad didn’t have to be up for nearly an hour. “You look good.”

Her mom did, wearing a nice light green sun dress and black flats with nylons on underneath, showing on her shins. Her make-up was tastefully done, nearly perfect. It wasn’t exactly dressing to pick up men, but it was clearly dressing up to impress someone.

Keeley was willing to bet that wouldn’t be her school’s principal either.

“Thank you. You look good too. Ready for your big day?” The words were innocent, just throwaway mom words that anyone might use. There was, now that she bothered to look for it, a slight hesitancy under them though.

She nodded anyway.

“Really? I don’t know. I’ve never done anything like this before. Are you going with me to school?” It would help, really. If her father went, who knew what would happen?

“I was thinking I would, if that’s alright? I wanted to borrow your van, so I can pick up my flower delivery, so this way I can dump you on Mr. Carmichael and leave directly from there.” It was a sensible and orderly plan and she sounded pleased enough with it.

Shrugging, Keeley thought about it for a second. It made sense. Frieda was actually Darla’s van, a, enameled cream colored, very nice, classic Volkswagen, with an engine that was never designed for such a machine. It wasn’t exactly a speedster, but you could drive it on the freeway with no problem at all.

“Sure, after all Darla lent it to me so you could have it for the flower deliveries and all that stuff, kind of half the point of it being here. Let me get you the keys. The insurance is some expensive super plan that Mrs. Gibson pays for, so anyone driving it is legally covered at all times. Just be careful not to speed. It doesn’t look like it, but it can creep up on you, the engine is really good.”

Honestly Keeley wasn’t sure the engine was a real engine. It might have been part magic. That was Darla’s thing as a Demon, making very complex machines and magical devices. Tarsus did that memory thing and Finias could read anyone’s mind. That reminded her not to think about who knew what, since Darla didn’t want things given away yet.

For some reason.

Easy enough, she had things to do anyway. It would be a good time to really practice living the role, wouldn’t it? If she could do it with a telepath, then it should work for almost everyone.

Nothing happened for another ten minutes or so, but finally the phone rang. Keeley expected “Mr. Carmichael” or possibly Darla. It wasn’t either of them, but Hally. Her friend.

That was kind of weird, having friends that would do things like call before school. Really this was the first time that had ever happened.

“Keeley?” The voice on the other end was small and weak sounding.

“Hi Hally, is everything alright? Do you need a ride to school or something? I can pick you up on the way, no problem.” It was a poor plan to assume things, but really nothing else made sense as to why the girl would be calling her, did it?

“Um, yeah, could you? I kind of need to talk to someone. Is that OK? I know we just met, but… There’s this thing, with my parents and I don’t know what to do. I’d ask Darla, but I can’t reach her.”

That was a little odd, but then it was just possible the other Demon needed to be off at work being Mrs. Gibson that day, after the extra work she was causing with the silly party idea.

Keeley tilted her head.

“Right. I’m not going to school today really, but I’ll come get you and we can talk on the way? Is that alright do you think?” Keeley looked over to see her mom giving her a funny look, so she held up her hand and mouthed Hally’s name. At least they’d met before, so she had some clue who was meant by that.

It was a mess as far as the schedule went, but the girl sounded pretty bad.

“OK. Thank you. See you in about, ten minutes?”

“Eleven. I have to explain things to my mom first, or, hey, would you be OK with her coming along? I need her to spring me from school, and then she needs Frieda for the flowers.”

The line was silent for a while, “um, sure. I… Maybe I should just catch the bus?”

“Nah, she loves you, I’m sure she’d love to talk to you, especially if you need help with something. Don’t worry about it.”

“OK. Yeah, that might be good, having someone adult to talk to. I don’t know.” The voice still sounded really lost, and little. It wasn’t totally out of the way she thought of Hally, but it wasn’t how she handled most things either. It was an odd tone.