Dangerous Women Part 70

"You were stuck," Adesina replied. She slid off Joey's lap and wiped at her tears and runny nose with her feet the way a praying mantis might groom itself.

Joey got up. "I'll get you a Kleenex," she said, running for the bathroom. She grabbed the box off the back of the commode and headed to the living room. She saw Mich.e.l.le running into the room from the other side.

"What the heck is going on here?" Mich.e.l.le asked. "I could hear Adesina crying from upstairs." What the ever-f.u.c.king h.e.l.l? Joey thought. Am I really losing it? f.u.c.k me!

Mich.e.l.le went to console Adesina. Awkwardly, Joey held out the box of tissues. A withering glance was all Joey got from Mich.e.l.le as she pulled tissues out and started dabbing Adesina's face.

"You want to tell me what happened?" Mich.e.l.le asked Adesina. But Adesina wouldn't answer. She just curled up in Mich.e.l.le's lap and closed her eyes.

When Mich.e.l.le looked up, Joey wished she weren't on the receiving end of that look-and despite herself, Joey took a step back. What happened? Mich.e.l.le mouthed silently. Joey shrugged and shook her head. And then Joey was p.i.s.sed. Mich.e.l.le knew she'd never do anything to hurt Adesina.

"Adesina," Mich.e.l.le said softly. "Look at me."

For a moment, Adesina just lay there, but then she slowly opened her eyes. There was a stern expression on Mich.e.l.le's face, and it struck Joey as mean. "Adesina," Mich.e.l.le continued. "Did you go into Aunt Joey's mind without permission?"

"What the f.u.c.k are you talking about, Bubbles?" Joey asked. There were too many things she didn't want anyone to know about, much less have the Pumpkin see.

"Adesina can go into the minds of people who have the virus," Mich.e.l.le said. "And I know she's been in yours before. Adesina, I told you about doing that, didn't I?"

Adesina nodded, and a tear slipped down her cheek. "I'm sorry, Momma," she said in a quavering voice.

"There are grown-up things you shouldn't be seeing, and it's an invasion of the other person's privacy. Like when you don't want me going into your room without asking."

That made Adesina burst into tears. Mich.e.l.le hugged her. "It's okay, you just have to be more careful, honey." She looked up at Joey. "I think I'm putting Adesina to bed. It's been a long day."

"Yeah," Joey said. "Yeah, it really has."

After Mich.e.l.le got Adesina settled for the evening, she went back downstairs to talk to Joey. She found her in the kitchen, pulling bottles of beer out of the fridge.

"You wanna tell me why the ever-lovin' f.u.c.k you never mentioned that Adesina can get into my c.o.c.ksucking mind?" Joey demanded, handing Mich.e.l.le a beer.

Mich.e.l.le twisted off the bottle cap, flipped the cap in the trash, and then took a long swig. "She's knows she's not supposed to. And the one time before when she ended up in your head, it upset her so much she swore to me it would never happen again." What Mich.e.l.le wanted to tell Joey was that being in her mind had made Adesina violently ill. That the garbage Joey was dragging around was toxic to Adesina and most likely to Joey, too. But Mich.e.l.le knew that telling Joey anything was a losing proposition.

Another hard pull of the beer made Mich.e.l.le's head swim a little. Aside from jumping off Joey's roof before they went back to the hotel, she hadn't done anything to bulk up again even though she'd meant to. She was thinner now, even more so than when she'd been a model. It meant she got buzzed much more quickly. And that wasn't feeling like a bad thing at all at the moment.

"Did she tell you what she saw?" Joey asked.

Mich.e.l.le shook her head. "I didn't really ask her much about it. She's only seven. But really, how much of what's in your head does she need to see?" It was a cruel thing to say, but Mich.e.l.le didn't much care. No, that wasn't true. She was just worn out.

"I don't want the Pumpkin seeing ... things." Joey chugged her beer, plunked the empty bottle on the counter, then went to one of the cabinets and pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniel's. "Best f.u.c.king way I can think of to forget. You want a shot?"

Mich.e.l.le shook her head, then killed the rest of her beer. Golden warmth encased her. Her lips went a little numb. "That's not going to help us figure out what happened to you. And I actually thought about having Adesina go into your mind to try to find out what happened. But that's obviously a terrible idea." Mich.e.l.le took another beer out of the fridge. Screw it, she thought. So I get hammered. My life is rapidly going into the toilet. "Oh, and I talked to Juliette when we were at the hotel. And then she sent me some links. The new meme out there is that I'm a terrible mother who routinely endangers the life of her child."

"What the f.u.c.k is a meme?" Joey asked after she took a swig of the JD.

Dan jammed dirty laundry into the washer, then dumped laundry soap on top. Laundry p.i.s.sed him off. If his mother hadn't left, the house would be clean, there would be food in the fridge, dinner on the table, and he would have clean clothes when he needed them. Instead, he was going commando in some ratty jeans (and he hated that commando s.h.i.+t), and his T-s.h.i.+rt was so smelly it grossed him out.

But the day wouldn't be a complete loss. He and Teninchrecord had booted RocketPac from the team, and they were interviewing replacements in an hour. He knew that they needed someone good, but weeding out the noobs and scrubs was going to be hilarious. After starting the washer, he headed back down to the bas.e.m.e.nt. He'd replaced his old sofa with a tricked-out gaming chair using some of the money he'd gotten for grabbing Hoodoo Mama's power. The chair had built-in speakers and an ergonomic design in black leather that perfectly cradled his a.s.s. His dad was at work, and Dan was looking forward to settling in for a nice long gaming session.

Except when he got to the bottom of the stairs, he saw that Mr. Jones was ensconced in his chair. Son of a b.i.t.c.h, Don thought. "Most people might start by knocking on the front door."

Mr. Jones smiled, and Dan didn't like it at all. "Dan, you might remember I told you the other day we might have need of you again. It appears we need you sooner than we expected."

For a moment, Dan thought about trying to get more money this time. But Mr. Jones's persistent smile made him leery. "What are you looking for? More of the same? There's all kinds of Mardi Gras stuff happening."

Mr. Jones had Dan's controller in his hands. He hit the start b.u.t.ton, and Dan wished he could just kill him. The pa.s.sword page came up, and Mr. Jones punched in Dan's pa.s.sword.

"What the f.u.c.k?" Dan said.

"Do you seriously think we don't know everything there is to know about you, Dan? Your pa.s.sword is nothing. The location of your mother? That was simple, too. In fact, Dan, with the exception of your power, you're just not that complicated."

Mr. Jones was putting Dan's CntrlFreak avatar through his paces. And he was kicking major amounts of a.s.s. It made Dan feel sick.

"Then why not just have me take Bubbles's power and then kill her?" Dan asked.

"Because we may have need of her in the future," Mr. Jones replied. "In your scenario, you could use her power once-and then, if she were dead, it would be gone and you couldn't take it again. A matchless resource would be lost."

Mr. Jones executed a perfect jump and roll with CntrlFreak, then single-head-shotted two combatants. "Perfect!" flashed on the screen.

"Not everyone is as uncomplicated as you are, Dan," Mr. Jones continued. "Take the lovely Miss Pond, for instance. She's ridiculously powerful, and yet, she cares little for that. But her friends, well, they're what matter to her.

"I could have had you steal her power, but that wouldn't have mattered to her. And we're not in the business of destroying people. We're in the business of managing them."

Watching Mr. Jones play the game made Dan want to jump straight out of his skin. And he didn't really give a s.h.i.+t about why Mr. Jones was doing anything he was doing-or why he was asking Dan to do anything. Just so long as they paid him. But he itched for Mr. Jones to put down the controller, get out of Dan's new chair, and tell him what the h.e.l.l he wanted this time. The rest was just jacking off as far as Dan was concerned.

"But tormenting her friend," Mr. Jones said smiling beatifically, "well, that's another matter. That will teach her the lesson I mean for her to learn. That no one she loves is safe. That she can't protect them. There are a lot of people in the world now who are extremely powerful, Dan. Controlling them isn't always about their personal peril. It's about explaining to them the limits of their power. The world may be changed because of the virus, but people, well, they're still the same."

Mr. Jones made CntrlFreak do a diving jump over several dead bodies, then he rolled up into a perfect kneeling position, gun extended, and squeezed off a single-bullet killing shot.

"We'll need you tomorrow morning," Mr. Jones said as he put another bullet into the head of another player's avatar. "I'll send a van to get you at six a.m."

"Winner!" flashed on the screen. Mr. Jones got out of Dan's chair and tossed him the controller. "Have fun playing," he said.

Mich.e.l.le woke up feeling muzzy-headed. She'd only had two beers, but at her current weight, it had hit her like a Mack truck. Actually, it wasn't that bad. She'd been hit by a couple of Mack trucks. And even a bus once. It was frustrating that there wasn't a large vehicle handy at the moment. She'd have to make do with having Joey's zombies pound on her for a while to get fat.

She rolled over and saw Adesina curled up in the center of the extra pillow. Mich.e.l.le smiled. She reached out and touched Adesina's new braids. They'd been experimenting with different hairstyles, trying to find one Adesina liked. But Mich.e.l.le suspected Adesina just enjoyed having her hair done.

"Stop playing with my braids, Momma," Adesina said.

Mich.e.l.le pulled her close, saying, "But they're so awesome! I'm jealous!"

Adesina giggled, opening her eyes. "We could braid your hair. It's long enough."

"Yes, but it would look like c.r.a.p the next day, and yours looks amazing. Let's go downstairs and see if Aunt Joey has anything for breakfast in the fridge besides beer."

But when they got downstairs, Joey was gone. There were no zombies in the parlor and none in the kitchen. And when Mich.e.l.le went outside, there wasn't a single dead pigeon in sight.

Dammit, Mich.e.l.le thought as she pushed open the gate, left the yard, and began looking up and down the street. I told her not to go off alone. And now I've got to do something I really don't want to do. I am so going to kick her a.s.s when we find her.

"Adesina," Mich.e.l.le said, "I know I told you not to go into Aunt Joey's mind, but we need to find her fast."

"It's okay, Momma," Adesina replied, flying into Mich.e.l.le's arms. As Mich.e.l.le cradled her, Adesina closed her eyes.

A minute later, her eyes snapped open. She squirmed out of Mich.e.l.le's arms and floated down to the ground. Then she began running. Adesina could only fly short distances, but she ran fast. Mich.e.l.le followed, wis.h.i.+ng again that she'd piled on some fat.

Adesina ran down the street, turned right, then left. Then she ducked into an alleyway. The stink of puke and rotting garbage hit Mich.e.l.le in a wave. A large Dumpster squatted at the end of the alley. Adesina slowed as she reached it, and Mich.e.l.le heard sobbing. She stopped running and hesitantly approached the far side of the Dumpster.

Joey was sitting on ground with her back against the building's brick wall. Her arms were clasped around her legs, hugging them tight against her body.

"Joey," Mich.e.l.le said softly as she crept forward. Oh G.o.d, she thought. I should have been there for her. "Joey, honey, it's me. It's Mich.e.l.le."

Joey's shoulders shuddered, and then she looked up at Mich.e.l.le. "Jesus, Bubbles," she said, her voice jerky from crying. "I shouldn't have come out here alone. They took my power again. I can't see any of my children."

Adesina flew to Joey's shoulder and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, then hopped to the ground. "It's okay, Aunt Joey, we're here now," she said.

"I just wanted to get some pastries for breakfast," Joey said, wiping her nose on her sleeve. "Croissants, maybe a few turnovers. I know the Pumpkin likes turnovers. I just wanted to get something for breakfast. And then everything went dark."

Mich.e.l.le reached out and took Joey's hands. They were shaking and cold. "C'mon," she said, pulling Joey to her feet. "Let's go home."

"But I didn't get the G.o.dd.a.m.n pastries," Joey said stubbornly. "There's nothing for breakfast. The Pumpkin needs breakfast."

"We can get breakfast later, Joey," Mich.e.l.le said as she slowly pulled Joey down the alley. "Adesina will be fine without breakfast for a little while longer, won't you, sweetie?"

Adesina flew back up and into Joey's arms. Joey reflexively caught her. "I'm not hungry at all, Aunt Joey."

"But you need something to eat," Joey said stubbornly. "I was going to get pastries." Joey toyed with Adesina's braids. "My mother used to braid my hair."

Holy h.e.l.l, Mich.e.l.le thought. She's unspooling. We've got to find whoever is stealing her powers. And, barring that, figure out a way for her to cope with losing them. And why steal Joey's power? Why not mine? She'd rarely felt this helpless. She couldn't figure out a way to help Joey and she couldn't stop the person stealing Joey's power. It was infuriating. When I find the person who's doing this to Joey, I will end them. But she knew that was a lie. She'd give up ever finding them if she could only keep Joey safe.

"We could stop and get some turnovers on the way home," Joey said. She hugged Adesina tight. "You want something for breakfast, Pumpkin?" Adesina glanced at Mich.e.l.le.

"We should get you home," Mich.e.l.le said. "I'll go out after and get something."

Joey s.h.i.+fted Adesina into one arm, then grabbed Mich.e.l.le's wrist. "No," she said. "You can't f.u.c.king leave me alone. Please. Not while my children are gone."

"It's okay," Mich.e.l.le said, gently pulling Joey's hand away. "I won't go anywhere if you don't want me to. We'll figure it out." Mich.e.l.le put her arm around Joey and led her home.

"So, where do you want me to use the zombies?" Dan asked. He was sitting in the paneled van with Mr. Jones and some other dude who was driving. It felt like his head was about to come off. Hoodoo Mama's power was kicking around in his skull and rattling his bones. It sang in his blood. It wanted to move.

"Dan," Mr. Jones said in a bored voice. "Don't be impatient."

Dan scratched at his arms. The power felt different this time. Angrier. This was the first time he'd grabbed a big Ace power more than once. He'd a.s.sumed it would be the same, but it wasn't. It felt like its own ent.i.ty. As if he'd swallowed a bowl of bees.

"Mr. Jones," he said. "I'm not feeling so good."

Jones turned and looked at Dan. "Would you care to be more specific?" he asked in a flat voice.

"I ... I ... I'm not sure," Dan stuttered out. "Hoodoo Mama's power feels different this time. I'm having a hard time keeping it in. I've never grabbed a power like hers more than once." He didn't want Mr. Jones to know how strange the power felt this time.

Mr. Jones's cold, dark eyes appraised Dan. Normally, this would have scared Dan, but the power felt bad and was getting worse by the second.

"How annoying," Mr. Jones said. "We didn't antic.i.p.ate your power would be so ... inconsistent. He turned back around, and then said to the driver, "It's early, but let's do the drop."

The van jerked forward. Dan's head hit the side window. "Ow," he said, but neither Mr. Jones nor the driver said anything.

A few minutes later, the van stopped. Dan looked around. Victorian houses lined the street. Most were shabby looking and run-down.

"Bring me a zombie," Mr. Jones said as he pulled an envelope out of his breast pocket. Gratefully, Dan reached out and found a wealth of dead all around. "What do you want?" he asked. "Rats, dogs, cats?"

Mr. Jones glanced over his shoulder with an expression of contempt on his face. "Bring me a dead person, Dan."

Dan got the closest one he could find. It was a relief to be using the power. He could feel it starting to drain away from him. The buzzing died down to a dull hum. "Where do you want it?" Dan asked.

"Bring it here, have it take this note, and send it to that house two doors down across the street. Have it ring the bell and give the note to whomever answers the door."

"The one with the wrought-iron fence?" Dan asked to be sure. He didn't want to make Mr. Jones mad.

"Yes."

Dan did as he had been instructed.

The doorbell rang. Joey jumped, and Mich.e.l.le reached out and patted her on the arm. It didn't help. She felt Joey trembling.

There was a zombie standing on the porch when Mich.e.l.le answered the door. It held out an envelope. Mich.e.l.le took the envelope, and then the zombie fell over in a heap.

The envelope was addressed to Mich.e.l.le. Okay, she thought warily. This isn't weird at all.

There was a single sheet of paper inside the envelope.

Miss Pond, We haven't been introduced, but my employers are big fans of yours. They've admired your many good works for years now. That said, they think you've had quite a nice run, but it might be time for you to retire and take a long vacation from the public eye.

The incidents with Joey Hebert are just a small sample of what we can do to people you care about. Persist in having such a public profile, and we will take more drastic measures. Perhaps something having to do with your child.

I look forward to meeting you soon.

Sincerely Yours, Mr. Jones Mich.e.l.le stared at the letter, trying to figure out who sent it. "Mr. Jones" was a transparent pseudonym.

Was Juliette right? Was this whole thing designed to marginalize her? And why target Joey? Joey helped the people who needed it who lived on the fringes of New Orleans society-why would anyone want to shut that down? Sure, some of them were grifters and other shady types, but some were homeless people who just needed looking after.

And me, Mich.e.l.le thought. What the h.e.l.l? I'm not affiliated with any agency anymore. I don't try any of that vigilante bulls.h.i.+t. Why would anyone even care?

"Mich.e.l.le!" Joey said as she came running down the hall. "My children! I can f.u.c.king see them again!" She danced gleefully around Mich.e.l.le, then glanced outside. "Why is that body on the porch?" The body sat up as Joey possessed it.

Mich.e.l.le held the letter out to Joey, who took it and read it quickly.

"Is this Mr. Jones the motherf.u.c.ker who's been taking my power?" Joey was jumping from one leg to another as if she'd been hitting the Red Bull hard all day.

"I'm not sure," Mich.e.l.le said. "He could just be an errand boy. There's no way of knowing. My guess is that they're going to do something again-I just don't know why they're going after you." She looked at Joey and didn't like what she saw.