Lafferty, Mur (31 page)

“We need to end this soon. Too many people need medical attention.

And there’s Alex to think about,” Peter said.

“So do you have any bright ideas?” Colette asked.

“Dude. We kinda forgot something,” Ian said, eyes growing wide. They looked at him. “Well, the demon attacked Barry, Keepsie and the nuke chick ran in and sowed themselves some chaos, but we didn’t really check and see if the back alley was clear now.”

They stared at one another. Michelle grinned and Colette swore.

Together they tumbled through the door.

Tomas perched on a stool with a look of disbelief on his face. Light of Mornings had curled up beside Barry’s body and had gone to sleep. Keepsie was gone.

“You let her go? Again?” Ian said. “What the hell good are you?”

Tomas got off the stool, thunderclouds forming on his face.

Peter put up a hasty hand. “When did she go?”

Without taking his eyes from Ian, Tomas said, “She said she was going to step right outside. She has been there maybe one minute.” He leaned forward into Ian’s face. “I think this one should go look for her.”

Ian laughed. “Sure!” Before Tomas could say anything else he bounded up the stairs.

Tomas snorted. “Insufferable.” Peter patted Tomas’s beefy shoulder and then followed Ian.

There was a lack of something in the air as Peter exited. The midmorning light did nothing to lessen the impact of the horrific carnage of the day. Of course, since Timson had messed up his power (he refused to think of it as “lost”) there was a lack of something everywhere he went, but this time it was auditory in nature. Keepsie stood in the middle of the alley, looking into the sky.

“I think it’s over.”

“Do you think we’ll be safe to go get help?”

She paused. “I don’t know.”

Ian walked to the end of the alley and took a peek outside. He withdrew his head quickly as something slammed into the pavement. He ran towards them. “Not safe, not by a long shot!”

“First demons attack. Now heroes.” Ian raged, pacing the bar.

Peter had had the foresight to close the kitchen door on the way in to keep anyone following from seeing Light of Mornings. They’d gathered in the bar, except for Tomas who was to watch the former villain, and Ghostheart’s released soldiers, who dozed in booths. Apparently mind control was tiring.

Keepsie sat in a booth, tracing the outline of the wood grain with her finger. She appeared not to pay attention to them.

“I’m so tired of this,” Michelle said. Her voice had a defeated quality to it.

“Well, let’s look at our arsenal,” Colette said. “We have more oil and sugar.”

“Hey, we could get Keepsie to free the demons and sic them on the heroes,” Ian said.

Peter shook his head. “I think we need to stop fighting the heroes. We’re already heading down a path that will likely lead to prison or becoming villains by association. We have to stop fighting them at some point.”

Ian stopped pacing and stared at him. “Are you saying we should surrender?”

“Well no. Not exactly. We need to meet them on equal ground.”

“Peter, they’re super heroes! We have never been equal to them. We never will be equal to them!”

“There’s something we haven’t tried,” Keepsie said. Peter thought he was the only one to hear her, but they all stopped.

“I haven’t tried, really tried, to use my powers since I was a kid. It’s been pretty much assumed that it was passive.”

She didn’t look at them, but kept tracing the wood grain. “But those drugs were pretty intense. I feel… different.”

“Different? Like what?” Michelle asked.

“Powerful. Like I have a little bit of control over this power. A little, anyway.” She stopped running her fingers along the table and looked up at them. “We can test it.”

“How-“ Peter began, but stopped short. Everyone around them had frozen. They were only that way for a moment - long enough for him to register - before they all relaxed. Ian took a step back.

“Whoa.” Ian held up his hands. “What the hell happened?”

Keepsie’s face was white, but she smiled slightly. “You were all breathing my air.”

They glanced uneasily at each other. Michelle cleared her throat. “So whatever you own is yours. And now your friends and the very air in this bar are yours.”

“If I want it to be, yes, I think so,” Keepsie said. “But I’m not sure how far it travels. What if the air outside could be mine? Or my personal space?”

No one spoke. Peter tried not to look as if someone had poured cold water down his back, despite the shivers he felt.

Ever pragmatic, Colette spoke up. “So how can we use this against the heroes?”

“I don’t want them to know I have this ability. Not if I can help it. But these statues here,” she waved her hand towards the direction of the heroes in the corner, “are mine. And if a hero tries to take them back, then, well, you know what will happen.”

“Then what?” Michelle asked. “Make our getaway?”

“No. We ask to talk to Pallas.”

“Yes. She’s always seemed the most rational,” Peter said.

“The most heroic, too,” Michelle said.

“And if it doesn’t work?” Ian asked.

“I freeze anyone who gets in our way and we leave Seventh City.”

“Then let’s go.” Ian walked over and started to pull the heroes out of their corner.

Peter snapped his head up and he grabbed Keepsie’s hand. He pulled it to his mouth and kissed it, not even minding the lack of information the kiss didn’t bring. “No, that’s not what we’re going to do. It’s a good plan. It’s an amazing plan. We’ll keep it as Plan B. I think I have one better. One that will expose everything Timson has done, and possibly get us out of here alive and out of prison.”

“Huh. Really?”

“Really.”

“Pallas. No one else,” Keepsie said. She stood at the kitchen door, facing The Crane who stood at the top of the stairs in the alley. His face was streaked with blood, ichor, and distress. He must be going mad with this mess.

Peter smacked his forehead. “Oh, no, I forgot, Pallas is out of town.”

The Crane’s wings dropped. “She’ll be in town soon.”

“I thought you were trying to keep her away so Timson could put her plan in action?”

The Crane looked at Peter with obvious dislike, but the malice was gone from his blue eyes. “That was before Ghostheart started using citizens. That was before the demons. But before I talk to Pallas, how can we trust you?”

Keepsie snorted. “You’re just going to have to. You really haven’t given us a reason to trust you today, so we’re pretty much on equal footing. You send your strongest hero in here alone, among a bunch of Third Wavers, and you know she’s not going to be harmed unless she attempts to harm us first.”

The Crane looked to his left and muttered something. He sighed. “We don’t negotiate with terrorists.”

Keepsie felt her stomach drop. There was usually no argument against that statement. It was like trying to defend against being an alcoholic. “That’s ridiculous, Crane. The past few days have been nothing but constant misunderstandings. Third Wavers getting stuck in the middle of something they weren’t prepared for. We’re not asking for press. We’re not asking for sanctuary, money, ransom, anything. We just want to talk to Pallas. She won’t be hurt as long as she doesn’t hurt us. She will leave here, very likely with all your heroes that we have. And then the proper actions can be taken.”

“Like putting you wastes of DNA into jail,” The Crane said, but his voice lacked the threat of previous encounters. He looked as if all he wanted was to go home.

“Don’t do the comic book language, Crane, it doesn’t suit you,” Keepsie said, hoping her voice stayed strong.

The Crane retreated, glaring at her. She stepped back and blew out a huge sigh.

“I don’t think this is going to work,” she said.

“It will. Pallas is the only one with common sense. And if The Crane has come to his senses, that’s even better,” Peter said, putting his hands on Keepsie’s shoulders and keeping an eye on the stairs. “He’s coming back. Go on, you’re doing fine.”

She stepped forward as she saw the telltale leather sandals laced up the well-muscled calves. Pallas. The first hero. The best hero.

That was fast.

Pallas stood, impassive on the top step. “How can I be sure your word is true?” Her voice sounded goddess-like: rich and deep and comforting, even when annoyed.

“I am prepared to release one of the heroes here as assurance of my goodwill.”

“Two.”

“That’s fine, as long as Timson stays here until we’ve had our talk.”

She stepped down another step, her gray eyes sharp. “Done.”

Keepsie waved her hand, feeling ridiculous. Peter had suggested she act like a decisive leader, so it was very odd to have Tomas and Colette drag Tattoo Devil, his bobcat and Heretic forward at her command. Barry and Light of Mornings still slumbered in the safety of the storage closet.

They placed the heroes outside the door, making sure to keep inside the bar. Keepsie released them with a thought, and they stumbled briefly. Without looking at her, they ascended the steps and whispered to Pallas. She nodded and came downstairs to face Keepsie.

“Thank you for keeping your word. I would like to speak with only you.”

Keepsie tried not to grimace, but nodded. “Done.”

Peter, Michelle, Colette, and Ian lurked behind the bar, watching Keepsie and Pallas chat secluded in a booth. Keepsie tried not to look at them. Pallas had only grudgingly allowed them in the room to assure Keepsie’s safety, even though they knew she didn’t need it. They were there for moral support, and to keep their curiosity from bursting their brains while Keepsie spoke with the most powerful hero known.

To her credit, Pallas fulfilled all their expectations. After determining that Timson was as unharmed as she could have been, with Keepsie’s assurances that she was stone because of her power and not because of anything the Third Wavers did, she sat down and allowed Keepsie to tell the story of their end of the past couple of days. Keepsie did not leave anything out except for the part about light of Mornings.

Although Keepsie’s comments must have agreed with much of what The Crane said, Pallas was hesitant to blame Timson, preferring to chalk things up to “a misunderstanding.” Keepsie let that sit for a moment.

Then she outlined their plan.

Pallas’s stony face broke at this point and disbelief replaced her impassive exterior. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am totally serious. Look, we’re giving you everything. We’re giving you Timson. We’re giving you the drug and the files. We’re only asking that if our plan works, we get a pardon for our crimes the past couple of days. If our plan fails, and we’re wrong, we will surrender with no issues.”

Pallas stared at her.

“We need you to stay with us. And you’ll want to, anyway, to make sure we don’t leave town.”

“Why do I need to stay with you?”

“Because we trust you. Because we know you’ll do the right thing if you see someone doing the wrong thing. Because Timson won’t do what I think she’s going to do in front of you. Because we may need protection.”

“I think you’re wrong.”

“On what part? I said a lot of stuff.”

“About Dr. Timson and the heroes. They may have made bad decisions, but they are on the right side. You have no proof.”

“You are entirely entitled to your opinion. But I have a differing one.

And I am offering proof. Will you take it?” Keepsie bit her lower lip and then stuck her hand into her pocket. The ball was cool in her hands as she gripped it, and then she placed it on the table between them.

“So this is what’s causing all the fuss.” Pallas paused for a moment, eyeing Keepsie. Then she picked it up and peered at it. “How does it work?”

Keepsie spun it on the table, causing it to open. “It’s just a cute drug bottle - it’s what’s inside that’s important.”

“And I can take this?”

“Will you trust me?”

Pallas slipped the ball into her tunic. She stared at the immobile Timson leaning against the wall by the door and then nodded.

“I hope you understand that for our safety, I’m going to make sure Timson is a good distance away before I release her.”

Pallas nodded again. “I need to talk to my colleagues.”

“I understand. Just please keep our plan between us. I think more heroes are involved in this than we think. And don’t tell Timson I have given the drugs.”

Her gray eyes didn’t waver. “Agreed.”

“So can we trust her?” Ian asked, watching Pallas carry with ease the stone Timson up the stairs.

“I think so. I don’t know, honestly,” Keepsie said. “She seemed receptive. Said that if I released Timson in five minutes, she’d return to stay with us.”

“She’s always been the only one I could stomach,” Michelle said. “Maybe it’s because she was always the one who did more work than publicity.”

“She was the first one. She started fighting crime before there were any heroes. There was no hero adoration when she came on the scene, so she didn’t have expectations,” Peter said.

“Or maybe she’s just a decent person while the others are assholes,”

Keepsie said.

“If the demons are gone, that means that they either caught Clever Jack or he ran off.” Michelle peered out the window.

Peter grimaced. “He doesn’t have Doodad or Light of Mornings anymore.

Stan is dead.”

Keepsie stared after Pallas. “He’s going to want her back.”

“Did Pallas guess about Light of Mornings?” Peter asked.

“She didn’t even ask. But about the girl, I need to tell you guys something.