LIES MY MOTHER TOLD ME

 A WILD CARDS Short Story

CAROLINE SPECTOR

LIES MY MOTHER TOLD ME

Zombie brains flew through the air, leaving a trail of blood and ichor on the throne riser of Michelle’s parade float. She smiled as another bubble formed in her hand. This one was larger and heavier—the size of a baseball. She let it fly, and it caught the zombie full in the chest and exploded. The zombie fell backwards off the float and was trampled by the panicking crowd.

Michelle saw more zombies moving toward her. They clambered over the floats in front of hers, pushing people aside as they flowed up the street. Another zombie crawled up onto her float, using the papier-mâché arbor for purchase. The arbor came loose, and Michelle watched in dismay as the sign reading “The Amazing Bubbles, Savior of New Orleans” broke off and fell into the street. Her daughter, Adesina, who’d been hiding under Michelle’s throne, let out a frightened shriek. Michelle released the bubble, knowing it would fly unerringly where she wished. When it hit, it would explode and leave a big, gooey zombie smear all over the decorations. Her beautiful float was getting ruined, and it really pissed her off.

There were three things Michelle hated about Mardi Gras: the smell, the noise, and the people. Add in a zombie attack, and it was going to put her off appearing in parades altogether.

To make sure she could bubble as much as needed during the parade, she spent the morning throwing herself off the balcony of her hotel room … until the hotel manager came up and made her stop.

“But I’m doing the Bacchus parade,” she explained. “I won’t be able to bubble through the whole parade if I don’t get fat on me. And the only way to do that is to take damage. A lot of damage. A fall from a fourth story is good, but not great.”

At this point, the manager turned an interesting shade of green.

“Look, Miss Pond,” he said. “We’re all grateful that you saved us from that nuclear explosion three years ago, but you’re starting to scare the other guests. It just isn’t normal.”

Michelle stared at him, nonplussed. Of course it isn’t normal, she thought. If I were normal, New Orleans would be a radioactive hole in the ground and you’d be a black shadow against some wall. I didn’t ask for this. None of us wild carders did.

“Well,” she said, thinking if she just explained it to him, he’d be less freaked out. “It isn’t as if when I get hit, or slam into the ground, or even when I absorbed that explosion that it hurts me. I just turn that energy into fat. Actually, it feels pretty good.” Too good sometimes, she thought. “So you don’t have to worry that I’m in pain or anything like that.”

But his expression said he really didn’t want to hear about her wild card power. He just wanted her knock it off. So she stopped trying to explain and said, “I’m sorry I frightened the other guests. It won’t happen again.” It meant she didn’t have as much fat on her as she wanted, but she’d make it work.

Adesina was still watching TV when Michelle closed the door after talking to the manager. She was perched on the foot of the bed, her iridescent wings folded against her back and her chin propped on her front feet. Just seeing Adesina made Michelle smile. Michelle had loved the child from the moment she’d pulled her from a charnel pit in the People’s Paradise of Africa a year and a half ago.

Michelle still couldn’t believe that Adesina had survived being injected with the wild card virus, much less being thrown into a pit of dead and dying children when her wild card had turned her into a joker instead of an ace. She shook her head to clear it. The memory of rescuing the children who were being experimented on in that camp in the African jungle was too fresh and raw. And her own failure to save all of them haunted her.

And Michelle wasn’t certain how Adesina might develop. Right now she was small—medium-dog size. Her beautiful little girl’s face was perched atop an insect body. But there was no telling if she would stay in this shape forever. She’d gone into chrysalis form after her card had turned and come out of that in her current state. It was possible she might change again—it all depended on how the virus had affected her.

“What on earth are you watching?” Michelle asked.

“Sexiest and Ugliest Wild Cards,” Adesina replied. “You’re on both lists. One for when you’re fat and one for when you’re thin.”

Christ, Michelle thought. I saved an entire city, and they’re really judging me on how “hot” I am? Seriously?

“You know, these lists are really stupid,” Michelle began. “Everybody likes something different.”

Adesina shrugged. “I guess,” she replied. “But you are prettier when you’re thin. They always want you to do pictures when you’re thin.”

Shit, Michelle thought. That didn’t take long. We’ve been in the States a year, and already she’s thinking about who’s prettier. And who’s fat and thin.

“Do you think a boy will ever like me?” Adesina asked. She turned her head and looked at Michelle. Her expression was serious. Oh God, Michelle thought.It’s too soon for this conversation. I’m not ready for this conversation.

“Well,” she began as she sat down next to Adesina. The bedsprings gave an unhappy groan under her weight. “I … I … I don’t know.” Oh, great. This was going well. “I don’t see why not. You’re beautiful.”

“You have to say that,” Adesina said. “You’re my mother.” She rubbed her back pair of legs together and made a chirping noise.

“Well, no one falls in love with you just because of how you look,” Michelle said.

Adesina turned back to the TV. “Don’t be dumb, Momma,” she said. “Everyone loves the pretty girls.”

A lump formed in Michelle’s throat. She swallowed hard, refusing to cry. There was no way to ignore it. Every TV show, magazine, billboard, and website had some pretty, young, skinny, half-naked girl selling something. And up until a couple of years ago, a lot of the time that girl had been Michelle—but that was before her card had turned. And now Adesina was worrying about this crap. Michelle was at a loss.

She stared at the TV. The bumper coming in from the commercial break flashed a rapid succession of images. There was footage from the various seasons of American Hero. There were some still black-and-white photos from the forties when the Wild Card virus had first hit. And then there were pictures of Golden Boy testifying before the House Un-American Activities Committee. Shots of Peregrine at the height of her modeling days, looking like the ultimate disco chick—with wings. Of course they have pictures of her, Michelle thought.She’s gorgeous.

“Since 1946, when the alien bomb carrying the wild card virus exploded over Manhattan, they’ve walked among us,” the voice-over began. “The lucky few Aces and the hideously maimed Jokers. But who cares about that? We’re here to determine the hottest of the hot and grossest of the gross—Wild Card style!”

Michelle grabbed the remote. “Okay, that’s it,” she said, snapping off the TV. “Look, honey, America is a stupid place sometimes. We get all caught up in unimportant junk like that show, and we forget the stuff that really means something. And I am really sucking at this mom thing right now. The truth is that the world is going to be unkind sometimes because you’re different. But that doesn’t have anything to do with you, honey. It’s just that the world is full of idiots.”

Adesina crawled into Michelle’s lap—such as it was when she was in bubbling mode—and put her front two feet on either side of Michelle’s face, pushing away Michelle’s long, silvery hair. “Oh Momma,” she said. “I alreadyknew that. I just get scared sometimes.”

Michelle kissed Adesina on top of her head. “I know, sweetie. I do, too.”

It wasn’t so bad up on the float. Lots of sight lines, Michelle thought. That’s good and bad. Good because she could see anything coming, bad because it put Adesina at risk. But being Michelle’s daughter was going to put Adesina at risk no matter what.

The crowd was especially boisterous in this section of the parade route. Maybe it was because they’d had longer to drink. The parade had been going on for a couple of hours, and now it was heading into the French Quarter.

Michelle’s float was decorated in silver and green. A riser with a throne was at the rear, and a beautiful arbor of papier-mâché flowers arched over the throne. Adesina had commandeered the throne for herself while Michelle stayed out on the lower platform to toss beads, wave, and bubble. Michelle thought Adesina looked adorable in her pale lavender dress—even if it did have six cutouts for her legs and another pair for her wings. Michelle’s dress was the same color, but made of a spandex blend. As she bubbled off fat, the dress would shrink along with her.

A couple of drunken blondes yelled at her, “Bubbles! Hey, Bubbles! Throw me some beads!” They pulled up their tops, revealing perky breasts. Michelle was unimpressed, but she threw them beads anyway.

“Momma,” Adesina said. “Why do they keep doing that?”

“Got me,” Michelle replied. “I guess they think they’ll get more beads.”

“That’s dumb.”

Michelle tossed more beads, then started bubbling soft, squishy bubbles that she let drift into the crowd. “You said it. Sadly, I think it works. I just tossed them some myself.”

There was a commotion up ahead on the parade route. Michelle stopped bubbling and tried to see what was happening. The crowd was panicking—people were shoving, and others were caught in between, unable to move.

The frenzy moved toward Michelle’s float like a tidal wave. Some of the crowd spilled off the sidewalks into the street, knocking down the containment barricades, and then they began clambering onto the floats in front of hers. Cops tried to calm the crowd and started pulling people off the floats, but they were soon overwhelmed.

And that’s when she saw them: zombies coming up the street.

Joey, she thought. What the hell are you doing?

Then she saw a zombie grab a guy in an LSU T-shirt and snap his neck. Michelle was horrified. But she immediately slammed that feeling down. She couldn’t help him—she had a job to do.

As she scanned the crowd, she saw the zombies brutalizing anyone in their way. A couple of cops tried to stop one of the zombies, and they each got a broken arm for their trouble before Michelle blasted the thing. And then she realized that the zombies were heading for her float.

“Momma!” Adesina’s frightened voice came from behind Michelle. She spun around and saw a red-faced, pudgy man and a skinnier man in a striped polo shirt climbing onto the float.

“Hey!” Michelle shouted at them. “It isn’t safe here. They’re coming for me.”

“Behind you is the safest place to be right now,” the pudgy one said. “We’re not going.”

Michelle sighed. “You’re leaving me no choice here, guys.” The bubbles were already forming in her hands, and she let them fly. The bubbles—big as a medicine ball and just as heavy—bowled the men off the float. Michelle heard them cursing. “Hey,” she yelled. “Language! There’s a child here!” She picked up Adesina, tucking her under her left arm.

“Momma,” Adesina complained, “you’re embarrassing me.”

“Sorry, sweetie,” Michelle replied. “Now behave while I take Aunt Joey’s zombies out.”

Michelle let a tiny, bullet-size bubble fly at the closest zombie. Its head exploded, sending bits of brain, skull, and decaying flesh into the air. It was immensely satisfying. Unfortunately, this only made some of the people in the crowd even more panicked. And now Michelle could feel her dress getting looser. Dammit, she thought. I knew I needed more fat.

Michelle spotted another zombie and let a bubble go. There were more shrieks as its brains and pieces of its skull splattered everywhere. The float rocked as the crowd pressed against it, and she struggled to keep her balance.

“Momma, please, put me down.”

“Not on your life,” Michelle replied, yelling to be heard over the commotion. “Zombies and panicking nats are not a good combination. It would be too dangerous, so, yeah, that is not going to happen.”

Adesina let out an exasperated sigh. “You’re mean,” she said.

Michelle destroyed another zombie. She felt her dress get a little looser. The zombies were coming faster, and one-handed bubbling wasn’t getting the job done fast enough. “Oh darnit,” she said, putting Adesina down. “Go stay under the throne. And let me know if anyone—anything—tries to get up here.”

If there was anything Dan Turnbull liked better than blowing shit up in a first-person shooter, it was making a mess that someone else would have to clean up. His mother had left his father six months ago, and since she’d been gone, neither of them had cleaned up much of anything. Stacks of dirty laundry were piled like Indian burial mounds in different parts of the house. A variety of molds were growing on plates in the kitchen—and in the fridge, heads of lettuce were now the size of limes. Rancid, greasy water filled the sink, and Dan wasn’t sure if the sink had stopped draining or if the stopper at the bottom needed to be pulled. What he knew was that he wasn’t putting his hand down there to find out.

But lying up here on the roof of the St. Louis Hotel looking down on the mess he’d made just now, well, that made him seriously happy. Zombies were breaking up the Bacchus parade, and that Bubbles chick was trying to stop it.

He watched her pick up the freak she called her daughter while at the same time she methodically blasted the shit out of the zombies. And he had a grudging admiration for how cool she was, given the situation. She didn’t get hysterical or spaz out the way most women would. No, she just mowed those zombies right down without ever hitting a single civilian. And he wondered what it would be like when he grabbed her power.

It had been a rush when he’d grabbed Hoodoo Mama’s power. Of course, he’d only taken one other ace’s power before, and that had been an accident.

He’d been walking down the street and had bumped into a teenage girl. Reflexively, he grabbed her bare arm to steady himself. The expression on her face when Dan’s touch had taken her power was high-larious. He’d been so surprised that she had a power, he’d used it without thinking and teleported himself across the street, slamming into a wall as he materialized.

When Dan realized that he’d almost teleported into the wall, he started shaking. In a few moments, after the adrenaline rush of fear had passed, he looked around to find the girl. But she’d vanished. Of course she had, he thought. What else would she do?

Unlike the teleporting girl, Hoodoo Mama’s power about blew his skull off. But he was only going to get one chance at using it before it reverted back to Hoodoo Mama, and he had orders to make a mess. What was happening out on the street was megaplus cool. He’d done his job well.

There were all kinds of local news video filming the parade, but this was the view he wanted. A nice long shot of the whole scene. He’d brought a video camera to get it, but he knew that there would be plenty of civilians making recordings, too. Those would be on YouTube before the end of the day. What mattered was having a lot of videos of all hell breaking loose. And the one that showed it all in perfect detail would be the icing on the cake.

It didn’t matter to Dan why his employers wanted a mess. For 5K and an hour’s work, it was a no-brainer. He didn’t even care how they knew about his power. His father had started demanding rent, and Dan had no job. And he had no intention of giving up his status as top shooter on his server. It had taken way too long for him to get there, and his team needed him. A job would just get in the way of that.

With his video camera tucked into the pocket of his baggy jeans, he climbed down the fire escape and slipped down the back alley. A couple of stragglers from the parade came toward him. As they got closer, he saw that they were girls. They were trying to run, but drunk as they were, it was more like fast staggering.

“Oh my God,” one of them said to him. She was wearing what looked like a pound of beads. Long dark hair framed her face, and he wondered if she was drunk enough to fuck him. “Did you see what happened back there?”

He shrugged. “Looked like a bunch of drunk assholes. Like every Mardi Gras.”

They gave him a baffled look. “No,” the other one said. She wasn’t as pretty as her companion. There’s always a dog and a pretty one, he thought. “I mean Bubbles. She was so incredible, like, she just demolished those zombies. Oh shit, I think I have some zombie on me.” She wiped at her shirt.

“Looked like she just made a mess of things to me,” Dan replied. Neither girl had looked at him with anything like interest, and it annoyed him. He’d been the one who’d made everything go crazy, not Bubbles. He’d made her look bad, too. It was his job to make her look bad. These chicks were drunk and stupid. He started past them, then impulsively grabbed the one with dark hair by the arm.

“Asshole!” she yelped, yanking away from him. But he hadn’t wanted to cop a feel—he was checking whether she had a power. But there was nothing. She was an empty battery. It made him sad—and he hated that feeling more than anything.

“Jerk!” The uglier one snarled at him and looked like she might actually do something.

But then he put his hand up, using the universal gesture for a gun. He sighted down his finger at the girls.

“Bang,” he said.

The zombies were nothing more than piles of dead flesh now. Zombie goo was splattered everywhere, but that couldn’t be helped. You kill zombies, it’s gonna make a mess, Michelle thought.

The parade had stopped, and some of the crowd who had climbed up onto the floats to get away from the zombies were making no effort to get down now. The rest of the crowd had poured into the street and surrounded the floats as well. It was a compete logjam. People were sitting on the ground crying. Some of them were wounded.

Adesina crawled out from under the throne, and Michelle picked her up. “You okay?” Michelle asked, kissing her on the top of her head. Adesina nodded. “Will you be okay sitting on the throne?”

“Yes,” Adesina replied. “But there are some men trying to get up here.” Michelle put Adesina on the throne, then spun around. A couple of different men were pulling themselves up.

“Guys, other people are going to be needing this space,” she said, growing a bubble her hand. She’d lost most of her fat during the parade and zombie fight, but there was still enough on her to deal with a couple of drunken douches.

“Hey, it’s really crowded down here,” complained one of them.

Michelle shrugged. “I don’t care,” she said. “Right now, this isn’t a democracy. I’m queen of this float, and I refuse.”

“Bitch.”

“That’s Queen Bitch, and there’s a child here. Watch your language. Besides, the people who are injured need to be up here more than you do.” The men grumbled, but dropped down and began pushing their way back through the crowd.

The cops were trying to restore order. Michelle called out to them, and they began bringing the wounded to her float. One of them stayed and started triage. Then Michelle heard sirens and a surge of relief went through her. Blowing things up and taking damage was the sort of thing she excelled at. But the aftermath was always more complicated and messy than she liked.

Now that things were starting to calm down, one of the krewe running the parade got on the loudspeaker for the float in front of hers and encouraged people to get out of the street and back up on the sidewalks. A couple of teenage boys helped the police reset the barricades.

Michelle pulled her phone out of her dress pocket as she moved away from the wounded. Michelle hated purses, and because her clothes were specially made, she always had pockets added. Though why women’s clothes never had pockets was a mystery to her. She scrolled through her favorites and then hit dial when she found Joey’s number.

“What the hell is wrong with you,” Michelle hissed as Joey answered. “Do you have any idea what a fu … freaking mess you made here today?”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. “What are you talking about?”

A fine red curtain of rage descended on Michelle. “I’m talking about zombies attacking a parade,” she whispered. “Killing people in the crowd—and they were coming for me and Adesina.”

“You fucking think I’d do something like that, Bubbles?” Joey’s voice was tremulous. It sounded worse than when they’d been in the People’s Paradise of Africa and Joey had been running a hundred-and-four-degree fever. The hairs on Michelle’s arms rose.

“Are you saying there’s another wild carder who can raise the dead? Am I going to have to deal with two of you?” The red veil lifted, just long enough that another horrible thought slipped in. What if this had been just the first wave?Honestly, she thought. Enough with the goddamn zombies already.

The laugh that came over the line was hollow and mirthless. “For a smart bitch, you’re awful fucking stupid. Obviously, we need to fucking talk. When can you get to my house?”

“I’m stuck here,” Michelle replied. She looked around at the wounded on the float and the cops trying to get the crowd cleared out. There was zombie ick all over the sidewalks, and Michelle really wanted to smack Joey hard. “I’m kinda busy.”

“Just get here quick as you can.”

The connection went dead. Michelle stared at the blank screen.

“Are we going to Aunt Joey’s now?” Adesina asked, tugging on Michelle’s dress.

“Soon,” Michelle replied, surveying the ruins of the parade. “Soon.”

If there was one thing Joey hated, it was nosey cocksuckers sniffing about her business. Not that Bubbles was usually a nosey cocksucker. Given what she said had happened at the parade, Joey could even understand her being fucking pissed. But now she had to explain what was going on with her children.

The problem was that she had no idea.

One minute she’d been making her way back from the bakery up the street—early, because it was Mardi Gras, and there would be tons of tourist dickweeds otherwise—and the next thing she knew, it was as if a light had just shut off inside her head. Usually, she knew where every dead body lay for miles around, and she often had zombie bugs and birds moving about keeping an eye on things. And today had been no different, until the lights went out.

She’d been “blind” for a few hours, and then, just as abruptly, her power was back. Truth be told, she’d been out of her mind while her power was gone. And she’d been scared. Really scared. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this frightened. Yes, you can remember that time, whispered a voice in the back of her mind. But Joey shut that thought down hard and fast—or tried to. What did your mother say about lying? the voice persisted. Well, she’d lied, too, Joey reminded herself. Her mother had lied, and left Joey alone, and what had happened after that …

Then Bubbles had shown up on her caller ID, and Joey had been relieved. Bubbles was the most powerful person she knew. Bubbles would keep her safe.

But when Joey picked up the phone, Bubbles started giving her shit. But Joey didn’t know what had happened. And if she was being honest with herself, she was scared. What if she was losing her power?

Without her children, she wasn’t safe. Without them, she was just Joey Hebert, not Hoodoo Mama. Without Hoodoo Mama, no one, not even Bubbles, could protect her.

And when she thought about what not being Hoodoo Mama anymore would mean, she began to shake.

There wasn’t much that Adesina didn’t like. She liked American ice cream, American TV, and American beds. Ever since Momma had brought her to America, Adesina had been making a list of all the things she liked.

She liked Hello Kitty, the Cartoon Network, and taking classes from a tutor (even though sometimes she missed being in school with other kids). She even liked the way the cities looked. They were so big and shiny, and everyone talked so fast and moved around like they were all in a big rush to get somewhere important. Even if it was just to go to the grocery store.

And she liked Momma’s friends. Aunt Joey (even though when they’d lived together in the PPA, Momma had kept yelling at Aunt Joey about her language), Aunt Juliette, Drake (even though he was a god now and they never saw him anymore), and Niobe. Sometimes they were invited to American Hero events, and she got to meet even more wild carders. But she liked Joker Town the best of all because no one there ever turned around and stared at her.

And she had liked being in the Joker Town Halloween parade with Momma, but she didn’t like this parade now at all. Aunt Joey’s zombies had attacked, and people were hurt. So they were going to Aunt Joey’s, and Adesina knew Momma was mad. She didn’t need to go into Momma’s mind to know that. It was pretty obvious.

Once, she and Momma had had a conversation about her ability to enter Momma’s mind. Momma had made her promise she wouldn’t do it anymore, but it was difficult to control. Once she’d gone into someone’s mind, it became easier. She couldn’t go into nats’ minds—only people whose card had turned. She’d discovered that while they were still in the PPA.

And she wasn’t going to tell Momma that she had already been in more people’s minds than Momma knew. Sometimes it just happened when she was dreaming, but mostly it happened if she liked someone. The next thing she knew, she was sliding into their thoughts.

The police and ambulances came. The ambulance took the wounded away, and the police cleared out the crowd so the parade could head back to the storage facility. There was no more music, no more beads thrown, and no more bubbles.

Adesina didn’t mean to, but she found herself in Momma’s mind. Momma was worried. Worried about Aunt Joey and what she might have to do to her if Aunt Joey really had made her zombies attack. She was worried about Adesina and how much violence she was around. And she was worried about the people who’d been hurt at the parade.

Adesina wanted to tell her that zombies weren’t as bad as being in the charnel pit. And that that wasn’t as bad as what had happened to her after she’d been injected with the virus and her card had turned. Even though Adesina’s mind wanted to skitter away from that memory, it rose up. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—forget what had happened.

The doctors had grabbed her and strapped her down to the table with brown leather straps that were stained almost black in places. Then they slid a needle full of the wild card virus into her arm. She’d looked away and stared up at the sweet, fairy-tale pictures they’d put on the stark white walls. But the girls in the pictures were all pale, not at all like Adesina.

The virus burned as it rocketed through her veins. She looked away from the smiling children in the pictures and stared at the ceiling. There were reddish-brown splatter marks there. Then blinding pain swallowed her and she was wracked with convulsions. Her body bowed up from the table. She tried not to, but she screamed and screamed and screamed. And then there was darkness and relief when she’d gone into chrysalis form.

The doctors didn’t want Jokers, they wanted only Aces, and so they threw her body into the pit with the other dead and dying children. But she wasn’t dying. She was changing. And while she was cradled in her cocoon, she found that she could slip into the minds of other people infected with the virus.

That was how she’d found Momma. Both of them were floating in a sea of darkness. But Adesina wasn’t lonely anymore, not now that she had Momma.

But if she said anything about that time, Momma would know she’d been in her mind. So she grabbed Momma and made her sit on the throne and cuddled in her lap until the parade came to its final stop.

Bullets flew across the smoking landscape, past the charred and burned wreckage of tanks and jeeps. A grenade exploded next to Dan, and he took a massive amount of damage. His health bar was blinking red, and he was out of bandages.

“Jesus, RocketPac, you were supposed to take that bitch with the grenade launcher out,” Dan snarled into his mic. He’d logged on as soon as he’d gotten home from the parade. “You fucking faggot.”

“Suck my dick, CF,” Rocket replied. Feedback screamed into Dan’s headset. “If you’d given me the suppressing fire, I could have gotten close enough to get a shot off. Go blow a goat, you asshole.”

“Turn down your fucking outbound mic, bitch,” Teninchrecord said to Rocket. “And your goddamn speakers, you big homo. CF, tell me again why the fuck we let this useless scrub onto the team.”

Dan fell back. He’s been using a bombed-out building for cover, but it was clear it wasn’t doing any good. And he needed to find some bandages. If they made it out of this without losing, he was going to kick that useless POS RocketPac off the team. He couldn’t figure out how this team he’d never heard of was pwning them. Especially since they had the utterly fag team name We Know What Boys Like.

A shadow passed in front of the TV. Dan jumped and dropped his controller. “What the fuck!”

“Mr. Turnbull, we need to talk,” Mr. Jones said as he picked up the controller and handed it to Dan. He wore a sleek dark grey suit, a white shirt, and a black tie. No one Dan knew ever wore anything like that. Dan was certain Jones wasn’t his real name, but he could identify with not wanting everyone to know who you were. And Dan didn’t want any more information than necessary about Mr. Jones.

He was afraid of Mr. Jones because Mr. Jones looked like he could snap Dan’s neck without blinking an eye. Mr. Jones reminded Dan of a coiled rattlesnake.

Dan ripped off his headphones and yanked the headphone jack out of his computer. “That’s a voice-activated mic,” he snapped, but his hands were trembling. “I don’t want those dipshits knowing who I am in real life. And I told my dad no one was supposed to come down here when the sign was up.”

Mr. Jones shrugged. “Your father isn’t home and I don’t care about your little game,” he said.

“I did what you asked,” Dan said more defensively than he wanted. “I’ve got the video here on this USB drive.” He stood up and dug around in his pocket until he came up with the lint-speckled drive.

Mr. Jones plucked it from Dan’s fingers, then delicately blew off the lint. “I doubt we’ll need it,” Mr. Jones said, slipping the drive into the breast pocket of his suit. “There are already more than fifty YouTube videos up. More going up by the minute. And the local news interrupted programming to report on it. CNN and Fox are running breaking-news tickers, and we know they’re working up their own spin on things. You did well.”

Dan didn’t know what to say. He was both flattered and scared. “Uh, thanks,” he replied, and jammed his hands into his pockets. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that his CntrlFreak avatar was down. Shit.

“We may need you to do another small task for us,” Mr. Jones said. He held out a thick manila envelope. “The payment. And a little extra.”

A tingle slid up Dan’s spine as he took the envelope. He thought about touching Mr. Jones’s fingers to see if he was an Ace but, for the first time, it occurred to him that he might be out of his depth. “Sure, dude, whatever,” he said. “But coming to my house, uh, maybe we could meet somewhere else?”

Mr. Jones’s smile was shockingly white against his dark skin. “Looks like your team lost,” he said, nodding at the monitor. “Combat Over” flashed on the screen. “I’ll see myself out.”

Dan took a long, shuddering breath when he heard the front door close. Then he opened the envelope and started counting.

The cab pulled to a stop in front of Joey’s house. Michelle paid the driver, and she and Adesina got out. The house was a dilapidated Victorian with peeling paint and an overgrown garden surrounded by a wrought-iron fence. Dead birds nested in the trees and perched on the utility lines. In unison, they all cocked their heads to the left.

“Knock it off, Joey,” Michelle said as she opened the gate. It gave a screeching complaint. Has she never heard of WD-40? Even I know about that.“Save it for the tourists.”

“Caw,” said one of the birds.

“Jerk,” Michelle muttered.

A relatively fresh female zombie answered the door. She wore a cheerful floral print dress and was less filthy than most of Joey’s corpses. The dead don’t groom, Michelle thought. They are so nasty.

“Follow me,” the zombie said. But it was Joey’s voice Michelle heard. All the zombies had Joey’s voice, and that was okay when the zombie was a woman. But it was weird as hell coming from a six-foot-tall former linebacker, as it sometimes happened.

“For crying out loud, Joey,” Michelle said. “I know every inch of this house. You in the living room?”

The zombie nodded and Michelle pushed past it. Adesina flew up to Michelle’s shoulder. “Momma, don’t be too mad,” she whispered.

“I’m just the right amount of mad,” Michelle replied. Then she sighed, paused, and tried to get her mood under control. Adesina was right. Joey never responded well to an angry confrontation. Angry was Joey’s stock-in-trade.

The living room was mostly bare. There were tatty curtains on the windows and a sagging couch against one wall. The new addition to the room was a large flat-screen TV. Across from the TV was Joey’s Hoodoo Mama throne with Joey perched on it. She was slightly built and was wearing a shapeless Joker Plague T-shirt and skinny jeans. There was a shock of red in her dark brown hair and her skin was a beautiful caramel color. A zombie dog lay at her feet, and two huge male zombies flanked her chair.

Michelle and Adesina flopped on the couch. Joey frowned, but Michelle ignored it. “So, you want to explain what happened?”

The zombies growled, and then Joey said, “I had fuck-all to do with it.” Her hands were gripping the arms of her throne, and her knuckles had turned white. “I can’t believe you think I’d do something like that.”

“Are you saying there’s another person whose card has turned, who lives in New Orleans, and who can raise the dead just like you?” Michelle gave Joey her very best “Seriously, what the hell?” look. “That’s a lot of coincidences, Joey.”

“No, there’s not a new fucking wild card who can control zombies,” Joey said leaning forward on her throne. “There’s one who can fucking well snatch powers.”

“Jesus, Joey, language.” Michelle glanced at Adesina, but she was already engrossed in a game on her iPad.

“Oh, fuck you, Bubbles,” Joey said. “Adesina has heard it all and more. Haven’t you, Pumpkin?”

Adesina glanced up and shrugged. “Yep. You cuss. A lot. But I’m not going to.”

For a moment, Joey looked hurt. “Michelle, are you planting weird fucking ideas in my girl there?”

“No, just normal ones.”

“That’s a goddamn fool’s errand for a Joker.”

Michelle glared at Joey. “Back to your mystery wild card,” she said. “What makes you think your powers were snatched? Maybe you just lost control.”

The two big male zombies started across the room towards Michelle. Calmly, she dispatched them with a couple of tiny, explosive bubbles to the head. It took her last reserves of fat, but she wasn’t putting up with any more of Joey’s aggressive zombie shit.

“Motherfucker! Goddamnit, Bubbles, look at this dick-licking mess! Christ!” The female zombie came in and began cleaning up the remains. “I’m fucking fine,” Joey continued. “What happened wasn’t my cocksucking fault. I went out to get some pastries at the bakery. On my way home, I bumped into someone, then bang, my power just went away and I couldn’t see any of my children anymore.”

Her voice trailed off, and she looked so sad and scared that Michelle believed her. Michelle knew that Joey’s card had turned because she’d been raped. But she didn’t know any details and really didn’t want to know them. She imagined that Joey must have felt as helpless now as she had then.

“Do you remember anything specific about how your powers were stolen?” Michelle asked. A wild card who could grab powers was frightening to contemplate. They needed to figure out who it was. But even more, she needed to protect Joey from having her powers stolen again. Joey had never been especially emotionally stable—Michelle reminded herself that a lot of the wild carders she knew were just shy of permanent residence in Crazytown—but seeing Joey’s reaction now worried Michelle. Whatever having her power grabbed was triggering in Joey was bad. And Michelle was beginning to think it might be more important to help Joey deal than to get the person yanking her power.

Joey shook her head. “Fuck me, I’ve tried. I just remember being jostled, then … nothing.”

Adesina tugged on Michelle’s arm. “Momma, look,” she said, pointing at the TV.

There was a long shot of the Bacchus parade as the zombies were attacking. The image zoomed in on Michelle as she began killing zombies. Joey turned up the volume on the TV.

“—ack on today’s Bacchus parade. Michelle Pond, the Amazing Bubbles, was on one float and was the apparent target of the zombie attack. More horrifying is that Miss Pond had her seven-year-old daughter with her. Though Miss Pond managed to stop the attack, it is troubling that she had her daughter at an event where she would be exposed to such adult sights as women showing their naked breasts for beads. This isn’t the first time that a public event featuring Miss Pond has turned violent. It does make one wonder about her choices.”

Michelle jumped up from the couch. “What the fuck!” she yelled.

“Language,” Joey said.

Adesina was worried. Momma was looking at videos of the parade on her laptop. Aunt Joey had switched off the TV after the news report, but Momma had pulled her laptop out of her bag and started looking for more reports online.

She’d found a lot of them. And even though Adesina tried not to, she couldn’t help slipping into Momma’s mind. And what she saw there was fear and anger and worry.

So she slipped out and started playing Ocelot Nine on her iPad again. Getting Organza Sweetie Ocelot out of the clutches of the Cherry Witch was easier than understanding the workings of the adult world.

Michelle’s cell was buzzing. It had been buzzing since the attack on the parade. But she’d been ignoring the calls—she already knew things were screwed. The old adage “There’s no such thing as bad publicity” was complete crap in her experience.

But she hadn’t realized just how bad it was until she saw the news reports at Joey’s house. And then she’d gone on YouTube and saw all the amateur videos.

It made her sick. Of course there is going to be video everywhere, you idiot. It was Mardi Gras. Hell, it’s just the way things are now. Not a moment unobserved.

And there was still the issue of how Joey had lost her powers. More to the point, Joey’s reaction to losing her powers was preying on Michelle’s mind. She couldn’t leave Joey alone in that state. Michelle decided she and Adesina would stay with Joey tonight and try to figure out what had happened. Much as she hated even considering it, Michelle thought she might have to ask Adesina for help. But God, she didn’t want to do that. She didn’t want to send her baby into Joey’s mind. There were things Adesina did not need to see at her age—or any other age, as far as Michelle was concerned.

Since Michelle had decided that Joey shouldn’t be alone for even an hour, the three of them cabbed it back to Michelle’s hotel. Both Joey and Adesina were hungry, so Michelle left them in the hotel coffee shop while she went up to the room to pack a bag.

She slipped out of her dress and tossed it onto the bed. Then she pulled on a pair of baggy drawstring pants and a T-shirt. She needed to get fatter—throwing herself off Joey’s roof hadn’t done much—and her clothes needed to cooperate with a variety of sizes.

As she was packing an overnight bag, her cell began to ring again. She grabbed it off the bed and glanced at the number. It looked familiar, so she answered it saying, “Michelle here.” She threw underwear, baggy pants, and T-shirts for herself into the bag, and then tossed in Adesina’s favorite dress and nightgown.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Hey, Michelle. It’s me.” For a moment, Michelle’s stomach lurched. It was Juliette. They hadn’t spoken much since Juliette had left the PPA. And when they had, it was awkward. Sleeping with Joey had ruined Michelle’s relationship with Juliette. And no matter how she tried, Michelle knew that there were some mistakes that couldn’t be forgiven. “I saw some of the footage from the parade online,” Juliette said.

Michelle’s hands started shaking. Crap, crap, crap. She thought. This is not the time to get emotional.

“Yeah, it, uh, was intense.”

“Was it really Joey?”

Michelle went into the bathroom and started grabbing toiletries. “She says no and I believe her,” Michelle said. “This just isn’t her style. She says someone stole her power, and right after the attack, her power came back.”

There was another long pause. “So, you’ve been seeing her while you’re there?”

Crap, Michelle thought again as she dumped the toiletries into a travel case. Then she released a stream of rubbery bubbles into the bathtub. A couple bounced out and rolled around the bathroom floor. Michelle kicked them, and they ricocheted off the wall. One hit her hard in the thigh.

“Yes, I went to see her,” Michelle replied, reflexively rubbing her leg. Stupid bubbles. “Hello? Zombie attack. Who else am I going to see?” She went to the mirror and looked into it. Stupid girl. “We’re not screwing, if that’s what you’re asking. And we haven’t since that one time. And you broke up with me and I’m pretty sure that means I’m allowed to see anyone I like. And I’m really sorry.”

Shit.

“You done?” Juliette asked.

“Yes,” Michelle said meekly.

“I’m glad you went to see her. This thing is a PR disaster for both of you.”

This flummoxed Michelle. “I thought, well, I mean …”

“Look, Michelle, this isn’t about you and Joey and me. This is about Adesina. You suck as a girlfriend, but you’ve been a good mother to her. And I really hate the idea that someone’s playing a political game that’ll impact on Adesina’s life.”

Michelle slid down the bathroom wall and sat on the floor. The tiles were cold against her butt.

“I’m not sure what you mean. Why would this affect Adesina?”

An exasperated sigh, not unlike the one Adesina often gave, escaped Juliette. “How can you still be this naive? You’re too damn powerful and too damn popular. They can’t do much about the powerful, but they will happily destroy people’s fondness for you. They need to marginalize you.”

Michelle opened her left palm and let a light bubble form in it. She let it go and it floated around the bathroom. “Well, who would do that? And why use Joey?”

“Oh, it could be a lot of people: the NSA, CIA, and the PPA, for starters. Also, the Committee might be involved, though that’s less likely. It could even be an entirely new group with their own agenda. And it’s tough to come at you directly, but going through people you love …”

“I don’t love Joey,” Michelle said emphatically. What she wanted to say was “I love you. Please come back.” Instead she said, “I’ve been off the radar for almost a year. It doesn’t make any sense.” Michelle rubbed her middle finger between her eyebrows.

“But you’re back and already you’re doing parades that remind people how you saved New Orleans. Not to mention that you adopted Adesina, who is just about the most adorable Joker in the world.”

Michelle smiled. “Yeah, she is filled with adorableness, isn’t she? I think she has a creamy chocolate center, too.”

Juliette laughed, and Michelle thought her heart might break. “I’m gonna e-mail you a link to something,” Juliette said. “This is what’s at stake and how far they’re willing to go to marginalize you.”

Will this bullshit never stop? Michelle thought. I’m just trying to have a life.“Thanks for the help, Juliette. And … I’m sorry. I know it’s not enough, but I’m really sorry.”

There was another long pause. “Yeah, I know,” Juliette said. Then the line went dead. Great, Michelle thought, rubbing away tears. Just great. You’re never going to make the Joey thing up to her, so stop trying. You’re lucky she even called.

But Michelle knew Juliette hadn’t called for her sake. She got up and ran cold water over a washcloth and held it against her face for a few minutes. The last thing she needed was Adesina seeing that she’d been crying. Her daughter saw too much anyway.

Even though her power was back, Joey was still grateful that Michelle was spending the night. She had her children, of course. But now there was the nagging fear that at any moment someone could grab her power.

Adesina was sitting on the coach playing that goofy game. What the fuck are ocelots, anyway? Joey thought as she sat down next to her. “So, you really like this game?” Joey asked. She wasn’t a fan of video games, but she’d played a few here and there.

Adesina nodded. “The ocelots are really cute, and Organza Sweetie Ocelot is amazing. She has these cool powers and she just goes right after the Cherry Witch who wants to take all the ocelots’ food and land …”

Joey tuned Adesina out. It was something she did on occasion. She just stopped listening and let herself slide into her children. There were dead dogs and cats. Dead people. Dead insects. She moved into them all, seeing through their dead eyes. Her children were the reason she was safe. No one could escape the dead. They were all around. So no one could get the drop on her.

But losing her powers for a few hours had been horrible. She tried to push away the memory of losing control—but that made another, darker, memory come to the surface. Bile rose in her throat, and sweat broke out across her back. No, she wouldn’t let it come back. She was Hoodoo Mama. She’d already killed that motherfucker. That was over and done—he couldn’t touch her anymore.

“Aunt Joey! Aunt Joey!”

Joey opened her eyes. It took a moment for her to snap out of the memory. Adesina was sitting on her lap, and her front feet were on Joey’s face. Tears were streaming down Adesina’s cheeks. “Aunt Joey, please stop!” she cried.

“What the fuck?” Joey said. “What are you doing, Pumpkin?”

“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 Michelle running into the room from the other side.

“What the heck is going on here?” Michelle asked. “I could hear Adesina crying from upstairs.” What the ever-fucking hell? Joey thought. Am I really losing it? Fuck me!

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

“You want to tell me what happened?” Michelle asked Adesina. But Adesina wouldn’t answer. She just curled up in Michelle’s lap and closed her eyes.

When Michelle looked up, Joey wished she weren’t on the receiving end of that look—and despite herself, Joey took a step back. What happened?Michelle mouthed silently. Joey shrugged and shook her head. And then Joey was pissed. Michelle knew she’d never do anything to hurt Adesina.

“Adesina,” Michelle 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 Michelle’s face, and it struck Joey as mean. “Adesina,” Michelle continued. “Did you go into Aunt Joey’s mind without permission?”

“What the fuck 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,” Michelle 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. Michelle 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 Michelle 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’ fuck you never mentioned that Adesina can get into my cocksucking mind?” Joey demanded, handing Michelle a beer.

Michelle 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 Michelle 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 Michelle knew that telling Joey anything was a losing proposition.

Another hard pull of the beer made Michelle’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.

Michelle 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 Michelle 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 fucking way I can think of to forget. You want a shot?”

Michelle 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.” Michelle 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 fuck 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 pissed 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 shit), and his T-shirt 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 basement. 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 ass. 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 bitch, 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 button, and Dan wished he could just kill him. The password page came up, and Mr. Jones punched in Dan’s password.

“What the fuck?” Dan said.

“Do you seriously think we don’t know everything there is to know about you, Dan? Your password 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 ass. 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 shit 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 hell 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.

Michelle 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. Michelle smiled. She reached out and touched Adesina’s new braids. They’d been experimenting with different hairstyles, trying to find one Adesina liked. But Michelle suspected Adesina just enjoyed having her hair done.

“Stop playing with my braids, Momma,” Adesina said.

Michelle 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 crap 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 Michelle went outside, there wasn’t a single dead pigeon in sight.

Dammit, Michelle 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 ass when we find her.

“Adesina,” Michelle 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 Michelle’s arms. As Michelle cradled her, Adesina closed her eyes.

A minute later, her eyes snapped open. She squirmed out of Michelle’s arms and floated down to the ground. Then she began running. Adesina could only fly short distances, but she ran fast. Michelle followed, wishing 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 Michelle in a wave. A large Dumpster squatted at the end of the alley. Adesina slowed as she reached it, and Michelle 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,” Michelle said softly as she crept forward. Oh God, she thought. I should have been there for her. “Joey, honey, it’s me. It’s Michelle.”

Joey’s shoulders shuddered, and then she looked up at Michelle. “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.”

Michelle 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 goddamn pastries,” Joey said stubbornly. “There’s nothing for breakfast. The Pumpkin needs breakfast.”

“We can get breakfast later, Joey,” Michelle 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 hell, Michelle 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 Michelle.

“We should get you home,” Michelle said. “I’ll go out after and get something.”

Joey shifted Adesina into one arm, then grabbed Michelle’s wrist. “No,” she said. “You can’t fucking leave me alone. Please. Not while my children are gone.”

“It’s okay,” Michelle said, gently pulling Joey’s hand away. “I won’t go anywhere if you don’t want me to. We’ll figure it out.” Michelle 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 tomove.

“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 assumed it would be the same, but it wasn’t. It felt like its own entity. 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 anticipate 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 Michelle 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 Michelle answered the door. It held out an envelope. Michelle took the envelope, and then the zombie fell over in a heap.

The envelope was addressed to Michelle. 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

Michelle 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, Michelle thought. What the hell? I’m not affiliated with any agency anymore. I don’t try any of that vigilante bullshit. Why would anyone even care?

“Michelle!” Joey said as she came running down the hall. “My children! I can fucking see them again!” She danced gleefully around Michelle, then glanced outside. “Why is that body on the porch?” The body sat up as Joey possessed it.

Michelle held the letter out to Joey, who took it and read it quickly.

“Is this Mr. Jones the motherfucker 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,” Michelle 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.

Joey’s eyes were wide, and she was jittery as hell. Losing her power wasn’t just making her nervous—it was making her angry, too.

“Joey,” Michelle said. “I know losing your power is horrible, but you told me when we were in the PPA that knowing where all the nearby dead bodies were all the time made you kinda crazy. Wasn’t it a little bit of a relief when it went away?”

Hands shaking, Joey gave the letter back to Michelle. “No, yes, no,” she said. “In the PPA there were so many bodies. And so many of them were dead children. You remember, Bubbles. And at first, when my powers vanished, I was just me. And that was nice. But then I started remembering how it was before I turned into Hoodoo Mama …” Her voice trailed off.

Michelle frowned as she closed the door. “I don’t know what to do. It’s clear they want me to stay the hell out of the public eye, and they’re willing to fu … mess with you to get me to do it. Maybe I should reach out to someone from the Committee.”

“No!” Joey exclaimed. “No! I don’t want anyone to know this is happening. What if they take my powers away forever? Jesus, Bubbles, what the fuck would I do then?” Her face began to crumple as if she was about to cry, and then a furious expression replaced it. “And, Bubbles, I want the fucker who’s been yanking my power. This Mr. Jones motherfucking turd prick-ass bastard is going to pay.”

“I’d like nothing more than to see him pay, too,” Michelle said. She needed Joey to remember what had happened when her powers were taken. That was the most important thing right now. “This time was like the last time, right?”

Joey nodded, but she was still shaking.

“So,” Michelle said. “They grab your power, use it, and then you get it back?”

“Yeah.”

“Then my guess is they can’t keep it. Otherwise, they’d just grab both our powers and be done with it. That’s what I’d do. And you were out both times they took your powers, so maybe there needs to be line of sight, or proximity?”

Joey nodded and looked relieved. “I’m glad you’re here, Bubbles,” she said, with just a hint of a smile. “I mean, you know I still think you’re a cocksucking bitch, right?”

“Well,” Michelle replied. “You got that half right.”

“Let’s see what the Pumpkin wants for breakfast,” Joey said as they went into the living room.

“Unless it’s beer and bourbon,” Michelle replied, “we’ve got to make a grocery run.”

“You go make the run,” Joey said. “I’ll be okay here for that long. But I’m pretty sure I heard her saying she loooves bourbon for breakfast. Girl after my own heart.”

Momma and Aunt Joey were laughing. Adesina felt the knot in her stomach loosen a little—until they came into the room. Then it was clear to her that they were putting a nice face on things. She didn’t need to slip into their minds to know that.

There was a smile on Momma’s face, but it wasn’t one of her real smiles. And Aunt Joey was smiling, too, but Adesina could see the ghosts in her eyes.

“You up for some breakfast?” Momma asked as she sat on the couch next to Adesina.

“Your mom says you’re not down with bourbon for breakfast,” Aunt Joey put in. “I keep telling her you’re my homegirl, but she doesn’t believe me.”

Adesina made her sincere face. “I’d love bourbon for breakfast, Momma.”

“Okay,” Momma replied. “But I’m going to pour it over your cereal. Yum.”

“Gah,” Adesina said. Once she’d been very bad and snuck a taste of Aunt Joey’s bourbon. It was disgusting. “I want French toast.”

“I’ll go to the market,” Michelle said as she leaned over and kissed the top of Adesina’s head.

“Be careful, Bubbles. They could grab your power,” Joey said. She bent down to tie the laces of her ratty Converse sneakers. Her hands shook as she did so. “It was bad when they took my power. It’d be much fucking worse if they got yours.”

Momma shrugged. “I’ve been out in public and they could’ve already gotten my powers. So I don’t think they’re interested in it, Joey.” She leaned over and kissed Adesina. “Don’t let Aunt Joey do anything stupid like go out of the house, sweetie.”

“I won’t, Momma,” Adesina replied.

Dan rubbed his face. He’d been about to explode when he’d had Hoodoo Momma’s power. Even after using it, he was still jittery as hell. But maybe that was because he was stuck in a van with Mr. Jones and the creepily silent driver.

“Uhm, can you drop me back at my house?” he asked as he fidgeted in his seat.

“Yes, Dan, we will drop you off at your house,” Mr. Jones said with barely concealed distaste. “I’m very disappointed in you, Dan. These things need to be timed properly and you didn’t do your part.”

A cold, slippery feeling slid into Dan’s gut. “Uh, I know,” he replied. “It’s like I told you. I’ve never grabbed a big Ace power twice. And I didn’t know it would be so weird the second time. I just don’t know what happened. I’m sure it was nothing.”

Mr. Jones didn’t reply. Dan rubbed his palms on his pants. A silent Mr. Jones was worse than a talking one.

He decided that the next time Mr. Jones wanted him for anything, he’d just say no. It’d never occurred to him that there might be limitations on what he could do, or that yanking a big power more than once might have blowback. He needed to figure out what the real parameters of his ability were. And there was no way Mr. Jones was interested in helping him with that. Mr. Jones was interested in whatever weird-ass mind-fuck shit he was up to. And nothing else.

The van slowed in front of Dan’s house. Dan was reaching for the door handle before it came to a stop. But before he could open the door, Mr. Jones’s hand was clasped hard around his wrist.

“Just a moment, Dan,” he said. “I forgot to give you your pay.” He held out a fat manila envelope.

For a fleeting moment, Dan thought about turning it down. But then he took it.

“I’ll be in touch,” Mr. Jones said.

Dan nodded. What he wanted to say was “Fuck no, you crazy prick. I’d rather eat ground glass than deal with you again.”

And it wasn’t until he got to the front door that he realized Mr. Jones had no wild card abilities in him at all.

I’m not afraid, Michelle thought. Well, not much anyway. The streets were still pretty empty despite the fact that it was Mardi Gras. She went into the local corner store and began grabbing what she needed to make French toast.

“Hey, you’re the Amazing Bubbles, aren’t you?”

Michelle looked up and saw a young girl. She was maybe sixteen with hair dyed black, black clothes, black Doc Martens, and a wealth of silver studded and spiked jewelry. A pale face with heavy black eyeliner and crimson lips completed the look. Michelle wondered how she hadn’t sweated through everything, including the heavy Pan-Cake makeup.

“Yeah,” she replied. “I am.” She dropped a loaf of bread into her basket and started to the dairy section. The girl followed.

“I thought what you did at the parade was awesome,” the girl said. “I mean, you were really great.”

Eggs, half-and-half, and butter went into Michelle’s basket. “Thanks,” she said as she walked to the produce section. “Just doing what I can.”

What if this is the wild card who can grab powers? Michelle thought. What kind of sick asshole would send a girl after me? But then she realized that if this was the wild card who’d grabbed Joey’s power, she would be just as helpless as Joey had been.

“Well,” the girl said, “I just wanted you to know I really admire you. You’ve been my favorite wild card since American Hero.”

Michelle smiled at the girl. If they were going to grab her power, they would be doing it soon. “Would you like an autograph?” she asked.

“Oh, I couldn’t ask for that,” the girl said. “But would you mind a picture of us together?” She held up her phone.

“Sure,” Michelle replied. Michelle put her arm around the girl and smiled as the picture was snapped. “And what’s your name?”

“Dorothy,” the girl said as she looked at the image. “Hey, this came out amazing.”

Michelle laughed. “Well, I am a professional. Or I was.”

“Hey, thanks,” Dorothy said. “Uhm, I just want you to know I don’t think you’re a lousy mother. I don’t care what anyone is saying.”

Michelle tried to keep her expression neutral, but she was irritated. And then she reminded herself that this was the way it was. You become famous, and you give up part of yourself. And Michelle knew she was lucky. Even with all the weird crap in her life, she could pay the bills and give herself and Adesina a decent life. So she made herself smile brightly and say, “I really appreciate that, Dorothy. It was nice to meet you.”

“Mr. Jones would like to see you and Joey Hebert in two days, nine in the morning, at Jackson Square,” Dorothy said. “He thinks it’s time for you to meet in person.” She gave Michelle a bright smile, then vanished.

For a moment, Michelle just stared at the spot where Dorothy had been.Yeah, I was not expecting that, she thought. Then she went and grabbed a bottle of vanilla extract. It was going to be one of those lives.

Joey was washing the breakfast dishes while Michelle dried. It was nice. Nice and normal, and that made Joey mad. She didn’t know why. But she knew it wasn’t the way she should be feeling.

After they’d finished eating, Michelle had asked for a couple of Joey’s zombies to knock her around and fatten her up. It took a while, but eventually Michelle stopped looking like a horrific thinspiration photo and was pleasantly plump. Joey thought Michelle looked especially pretty when she was plump. Joey liked her girls curvy.

Then they’d come back inside and started cleaning up the kitchen. Adesina was flopped on the couch, playing her game, so Joey didn’t bother to have her help. Sure, her mother might have said they were spoiling the child, but Joey didn’t see it that way.

“I had another message from Mr. Jones,” Michelle said softly while wiping a dish.

Joey looked over her shoulder to see if Adesina had heard. But she was still engrossed in her game. “What the fuck did he want?”

“He wants us to meet him in Jackson Square day after tomorrow morning at nine,” Michelle replied. “Oh, and the messenger was a sixteen-year-old girl who can teleport.”

“We’re not going to go, right?” Joey asked. “That would be fucking insane.” Joey wanted to hit something. Hard.

“I’m going,” Michelle whispered. She kept drying dishes as if it were the most normal thing in the world to do while talking about some thug who wanted to steal your powers. “It’s the only real choice we have. Unless you want to go underground, leave your home, and assume a new identity. Avoiding these people—whoever they are—just gives them power over you.”

“But they’ve already got power over us, Michelle,” Joey hissed, soapy water splashing on the floor as she angrily dumped the frying pan into it. “In case you’ve forgotten, they’ve yanked my power twice. Maybe they’ll yank yours next.”

Michelle nodded, then opened the silverware drawer and began putting utensils away. “They might,” she said. “But if that happened, it wouldn’t be the end of my life. I’d go back to what I was before. It wouldn’t change what I’ve done and it wouldn’t change who I am.” Michelle slid the drawer shut.

“Well, it’s fucking easy for you to say, Bubbles,” Joey replied. “You had a life before your card turned. I had jack shit. Except for my mother.” The thought of her mother made a hideous lump form in the back of Joey’s throat. She swallowed and tried not to cry. “I was just a kid when my card turned.”

And even though Joey had banished almost every moment of that day, flashes of what had happened would still swim to the surface. And she knew if she hadn’t turned into Hoodoo Mama, she would have died then.

“I know it’s easy for me,” Michelle replied gently. She dropped the towel on the counter and turned to face Joey. “And that’s why I need to do something to help you. If you’ll let me.”

Joey threw her sponge into the sink. “And what the fuck do you think you can do?”

Michelle grabbed Joey’s hands. “I can have Adesina go into your mind—into your memories—and she can … help you.”

Joey grew very still. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“You know that Adesina can go into your mind? Well, when we were in the PPA, after all the fighting had stopped and we stayed to help the children we’d found there, Adesina went into some of their minds and she … she took their pain away. She made them forget what had happened to them.” Michelle paused and then she dropped Joey’s hands. She picked up the dishtowel, folded it, and then hung it on the rack. “I stopped her from doing it because I didn’t like how depressed she got afterward.”

“Well, why would you fucking let her into my mind knowing that she’s already been in there once before and it wasn’t a fucking fun time?” Joey’s hands were shaking and she jammed them into the pockets of her jeans. “I don’t want her in my head. And I don’t want to remember. I won’t remember. Why should I?”

“I’ve been giving this a lot of thought,” Michelle said. “And I talked to Adesina about it—to see if my plan would even work. She’ll be in your mind, but not in the way she usually goes into someone’s mind. I’m going in for her. Well, more like with her.” Michelle rubbed her forehead and sighed. “I’m not describing this well. Adesina has linked two separate minds together before—by accident. So it’ll be difficult. But she wants to help. And given our time frame, I don’t see that there are any other solutions. So, yeah, I’m not going to be winning Mother of the Year anytime soon.”

“Fuck,” Joey said rocking back on her heels. She shook her head. “I don’t think I can let Adesina do that. What if she sees … something a kid shouldn’t see? What if you see?”

“Joey,” Michelle said, exasperation hard in her voice. “We can’t go on the run from these people. Christ, I can’t even figure out who they work for. You freak when your power is lifted. I think I have a way to fix that—or at least a way to make the memory this is triggering go away. You have to be okay with not having your power. Otherwise, they can get to you. And I can’t be here all the time. You need to deal with this. Yeah, it’s a suck solution, but it’s the only one we have. Do you really think I’d do this to my daughter if I could think of any other option? And may I remind you that Adesina is in danger from these assholes, too?”

“Honestly, Bubbles,” Joey replied as she rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet. “I’ve seen you do some pretty bad shit.”

“Yeah?” Michelle replied as she turned away from Joey and began putting dishes in the cupboard. “Welcome to the working world.”

It took another two hours of arguing before Joey finally agreed to let Michelle and Adesina into her mind—and then only with the understanding that if Joey gave the word, the experiment ended.

“Where do you want to do this?” Joey asked. They were in the living room, and Joey had cleared out the usual zombie guard because Adesina mentioned that they were stinky.

“It easiest when the other person is asleep,” Adesina said. “That’s how I found Momma. When she was in the coma.”

“Well, I’m not tired,” Joey said.

“We could go upstairs and use the guest bedroom,” Michelle suggested. “You could lie down and just try to relax.”

“Fuck,” Joey muttered as she turned and stomped out of the room. Michelle and Adesina followed her. And Joey couldn’t help noticing that Michelle didn’t say anything about her bad language in front of the child.

Adesina had a fluttery feeling in her tummy. She was pretty sure she could bring Momma into Aunt Joey’s mind. But once they were there, could Momma really protect her? Adesina loved Aunt Joey, but there were things lurking in the dark corridors and rooms there that scared her.

Aunt Joey lay down on the bed, and Momma lay down beside her. Adesina hopped up and snuggled between them. Aunt Joey’s body was rigid, her arms stiff and tight against her side. Momma rolled onto her side, reached out, and took Aunt Joey’s left hand. Aunt Joey sighed, then relaxed a little. And then Adesina slid into Momma’s mind.

It was a comfortable place for Adesina. Momma’s mind was like a big, open house. There were pretty views out the windows and lots of bright, airy rooms. There were a couple of rooms Momma wouldn’t let her go into, but Adesina didn’t mind. Momma had explained that some of it was grown-up stuff, and some of it was private.

And there were bunnies in Momma’s mind, too. Adesina liked the bunnies, but never could figure out why Momma had so many of them.

“Hey there, kiddo,” Momma said. She was standing next to the windows looking out at the view holding a fat rabbit. “You ready to do this?” She turned toward Adesina, put the bunny down, and Adesina ran and jumped into her arms.

“I’m ready, Momma,” Adesina said. And then she reached out for Aunt Joey.

One moment Michelle was in her own mind, or at least Adesina’s interpretation of her mind—and the next, she and Adesina were in the front entryway of a version of Joey’s house. But it was bigger than Joey’s actual house. There were corridors that spawned from the main hallway. Michelle saw that they were lined with closed doors.

“Joey?” Michelle yelled. She tried not to shout in Adesina’s ear, even though she knew she wasn’t really carrying the child in the crook of her arm. “Where are you, Joey?”

“Here,” Joey replied from behind her. Startled, Michelle spun around. There, in the multicolored light from the stained-glass windows in the front door, was Joey. She looked frailer and younger than she did in real life.

“You scared the crap out of me,” Michelle said. She reached out and touched the intricately carved chair rail that ran the length of the hall. “Your house looks different in here.”

“Yeah, I don’t know if that’s me doing it or the Pumpkin,” Joey replied as she slowly turned around and took in the front entrance and hallway. “I guess if I ever got around to sprucing the place up, it might look like this. And that front door is really fucking cool.”

Michelle kissed Adesina on the head and then put her down. “End of the line for you, kiddo,” she said. “I want you to stay here, okay? Aunt Joey and I need to go the rest of the way alone.”

“Wait,” Joey said. She brushed by Michelle and opened the first door on the left. “I did something for the Pumpkin.”

Adesina and Michelle turned and peered through the doorway. Inside the room were overstuffed couches upholstered in a faded chrysanthemum print. The couches were positioned in front of a large flat-screen TV. A couple of burly zombies played checkers on a table under the bay window. Several otters sat on the couches eating popcorn and watching cartoons on the TV. Adesina gave a squeal of delight, then ran into the room and hopped up on the couch next to the smallest otter.

Michelle looked at Joey and then cocked her head. “Really? Do otters even eat popcorn?”

“My head, my rules,” Joey replied with a grin that surprised Michelle. “Besides, Adesina really loves those otters.”

“I know,” Michelle said. “Weird, huh? I guess we should get going.”

Joey’s smile faded. “Yeah, I guess we should.”

“You’re going to have to lead,” Michelle said. “I have no idea where to start.”

“I do,” Joey replied. Her voice was sad. “It’s this way.” Then, much to Michelle’s surprise, Joey took her hand.

They went to the second to the last corridor leading off the main hallway and turned into it. There were sconces lining the walls here, but several of the bulbs had burned out. The walls were painted a dull grey, and the hall runners sported an undulating pattern in chartreuse, smoke, and brown. There were three doors along each wall in this hallway, and there was a door at the far end as well. Joey slowed, and Michelle had to tug her hand to get her to move forward again.

“I know you don’t want to do this,” Michelle said. “But it’s the only choice.”

Joey stopped in front of the first door on the right. “I know,” she said as she reached out and threw open the door.

Sunlight spilled into the hallway. They stepped through the doorway. The light was so bright that, for a moment, Michelle was blinded. She blinked, and blurry images turned into people.

Michelle and Joey stood at the top of a hill. Below them, a tall, willowy woman in a blue sundress was laughing at something a bandy-legged man standing beside her had said. She took a long drink from the tallboy in her hand. Around them ran a short, skinny, young girl.

“Mommy,” Joey whispered. Then she pointed at the little girl. “And that’s me down there, too.”

“How old were you?” Michelle asked. She couldn’t take her eyes away from the scene. Everything about it was golden and warm.

“Eleven,” Joey replied, her voice wavering. Michelle glanced at her.

“Why are you crying?” Michelle asked, perplexed. “You look so happy here.”

“It’s the last fucking happy memory I have.”

Michelle looked back to the scene. Joey’s hair was done up in braids, and she wore a pink T-shirt and overalls. She threw head back and laughed and laughed, the perfect image of her mother.

“Screw this,” Joey said. She yanked them out of the room, then slammed the door shut. The golden light was gone, and they were back in the gloomy hallway.

Joey dropped Michelle’s hand, then ran to another door and yanked it open. Michelle sprinted to catch up with her. Inside, Joey’s mother was sitting on a bed with Joey. Joey’s mother wore a tatty floral housedress and her hair hadn’t been combed. Joey was wearing a blue T-shirt with faded but clean jeans.

“I’m never gonna leave you, baby girl,” Joey’s mother said, her words slurring. She patted Joey’s head and toyed with her braids. “I don’t know where you get these crazy ideas.”

There was a sick look on Joey’s face. “You’ve been spending a lot of time in bed, Mommy,” Joey said, touching her mother’s cheek. “And you forget stuff. And you never want to eat anymore …” Joey’s voice trailed off.

“Oh, baby girl, you know your mother has a bad memory,” her mother said as she lay back against the pillows. Michelle saw now that Joey’s mother’s belly was distended and her skin was ashy. Even the whites of her eyes were yellow. Joey’s mother was ill—very ill. “Always have had a poor memory,” Joey’s mother continued. “There’s nothing to that. Your uncle Earl John is here to help me remember things.”

“Mommy,” Joey said, inching closer to her mother. “I don’t like Uncle Earl John. I don’t understand why you’re with him.”

“Baby girl,” her mother said as she pushed herself up again. It looked like it took an effort. “When you get older you’ll understand that it’s hard to make a living. Your uncle Earl John takes care of us. He buys us what we need.”

“I don’t fucking want what he buys,” Joey said in a surly voice.

Her mother slapped her across the face.

“Don’t you take that tone with me,” Joey’s mother said. Her tone was angry, but her eyes were scared. “And don’t you use that nasty language.”

Young Joey rubbed her cheek, and adult Joey mimicked her. Michelle wanted to say something to help, but she was at a loss. Her parents had been horrible, but at least they had never hit her.

Then Joey’s mother began to cry.

“Oh God,” she said, pulling young Joey into her arms. “I’m so sorry, baby girl. I love you and I just want you to be safe after … I just want you to be safe. Uncle Earl John will keep you safe. He promised.”

“It was the only time she ever hit me,” adult Joey said, her voice hitching with tears. “She never let anyone touch me. Not ever. None of those cocksuckers she married. None of the ones she just fucked. They could beat the hell out of her, but never once did she let them hit me.” She pulled Michelle out into the hall again and slammed the door shut.

“Where to now?” Michelle asked. At the dead end of the hall was a door flanked by flickering sconces. She pointed at it. “What about that one?”

“No,” Joey said, taking a step backward while wiping the tears from her cheeks.

“Maybe it’s what we’re looking for,” Michelle said, grabbing Joey’s hand and pulling her toward the door.

“Michelle, don’t!” Joey cried.

But it was too late. Michelle was already opening the door. She stepped through the doorway, dragging Joey along, and found herself on a rise overlooking a cemetery. A small knot of mourners was gathered around one of the small crypts.

Michelle saw young Joey. She as wearing a dark blue dress and was sobbing. Next to her was the man from the first room. He was rubbing Joey’s back, and the sight of that action made the hairs on Michelle’s neck stand up.

Abruptly, Michelle found herself in the living room of a shotgun house. There were casserole dishes laid out on card tables, and a group of women were fussing over the dishes and Joey. Michelle could see into the kitchen where a group of men were talking and drinking. The women in the living room clucked over the men’s boozing between attempts to get Joey to eat. But Joey just sat curled up on the ratty sofa and cried.

The scene shifted again. It was dark outside, and in the back of the house Michelle heard someone banging around. Joey was still on the sofa, her legs pulled up under her chin. Her face was vacant. The guests had left, and someone had cleaned up the living room.

“Hey, baby girl,” came a loud, slurred voice. Joey didn’t respond, but Michelle turned. The short man with bandy legs leaned against the doorjamb. There were sweat stains on his shirt, and he’d pulled his tie loose. It was the man from the funeral. Joey’s uncle Earl John.

“Baby girl!” he said louder. Michelle could smell the liquor on his breath. “You hear me?”

For a moment Joey didn’t answer, but then she turned toward him. “Don’t call me that,” she said in a flat voice. “No one but my mother calls me that.”

“Well, your drunk-ass, junkie momma is dead as a doornail,” he said, pushing himself from the doorjamb. He staggered into the living room. “All the money I spent on that lush, down the drain. But you, well, you’re going to fix it. Goin’ to clean my house, goin’ to fix my dinner, and goin’ to get in my bed.”

He grabbed her. Joey shrieked and tried to yank her arm away. But he held on tight and jerked her off the sofa.

Michelle instinctively tried to bubble—but nothing happened.

Of course not. This was Joey’s memory, and Michelle was just a spectator. And then Michelle realized that her Joey—grown-up Joey—was gone.

“Let me go!” Joey screamed, but her voice and face switched back and forth from child to adult Joey. “Let me go!” She kicked, but it didn’t do any good. Joey was just a skinny slip of a thing.

No. No. No. No. I don’t want to see this, Michelle thought. God, I don’t want to.

The memory began to fragment. Michelle found herself in a bedroom. A slice of light fell across the bed from the open bathroom door. The heavy smell of bourbon was everywhere.

The ceiling had a stain on it, a brown water stain from a roof leak. Joey remembered exactly how it looked. The edges were darker than the center. And then he was grabbing her legs and forcing them open. Joey screamed, and he released one of her legs and fumbled with his pants. The stain looked like Illinois.

There was a heavy weight on Joey’s chest. She couldn’t move. The world spun, and she thought she was going to be sick. She rolled over and started gagging. Earl John pushed her off the bed.

“You puke in the bathroom,” he said.

Joey crawled to the bathroom. The floor tiles were blue, and until today Joey had always loved the color of them. She lifted the seat on the toilet and dry heaved. Nothing came up because she hadn’t eaten in two days.

Something ran down her leg. She wiped at it. Her hand came away sticky and smelled like the river.

The memory jumped again. Earl John was holding Joey facedown on the bed. Joey pushed her face into the pillow and breathed in her mother’s smell that still lingered there. It was Mommy’s favorite rose perfume. Joey heard her own pathetic cries and Earl John’s grunting, but it sounded as if it were coming from somewhere else. Somewhere far away.

Then he was done and he rolled off Joey and went into the kitchen. There was the sound of the refrigerator opening, and a glass being filled with ice cubes.

Joey wanted to die. She could die here with Mommy’s smell in her nose. They’d be together, and she wouldn’t have to feel the disgusting stickiness between her legs anymore.

“You just stay like you are, baby girl,” Earl John said. “I’m going to break all your cherries tonight.”

Joey didn’t know what he meant. But she knew Mommy wouldn’t want him to touch her. Mommy never let any of them touch her. Ever!

Earl John threw back his drink and set the glass on the dresser. He started toward Joey and there was another jump in time.

Someone was banging on the front door. Then there was the sound of wood smashing. Earl John jumped up, went to the side table, and pulled a gun out of the drawer.

“What the hell?” he said as he turned around. Then he gave a high-pitched shriek. Joey rolled over and saw Mommy in the doorway.

“You hurt my baby,” Mommy said. But it was Joey’s voice that came out of her mouth. “I told you to take care of her.”

Earl John shot Mommy twice in the chest.

But Mommy just smiled.

“Can’t hurt us no more, Earl John,” she said. Joey mouthed the words, too. “Can’t hurt us no more, you fucker.”

And then Mommy ripped Earl John’s head off.

Joey sat in the middle of the bed, her knees pulled up under her chin. She hurt all over. Mommy came and sat on the bed, too.

“I’m sorry, baby girl, I shouldn’t have left you alone,” she said. Her voice was still Joey’s.

“It’s okay, Mommy,” Joey said. She crawled to Mommy and put her arms around her. Then she laid her head on Mommy’s shoulder. “You’re here now.” Then Joey looked around the room. Earl John was scattered everywhere. The sheets were gross and streaked with blood. Then she looked at herself. There were bruises on her legs and arms and blood on her thighs. She started to shake. “What do I do?” she asked. “I gotta do something.”

Mommy laughed. “Well, baby girl, you need to get dressed. But before you do that, you should wash up. Use my shower.”

Joey slid off the bed, but her legs were weak and barely held her. Mommy grabbed her and helped her get to the bathroom. Mommy ran the water in the shower until it was warm—almost hot. She helped Joey into the shower, and then Joey lathered herself over and over until all she could smell was Mommy’s soap.

Then Mommy helped her get dressed and braided her hair again. And together they went into Joey’s room and packed a suitcase. Then Mommy went back into her own bedroom and rifled through all of Earl John’s things until she came up with all the cash he had. Joey waited for Mommy to finish.

“Where are we going, Mommy?” Joey asked when Mommy returned.

“Wherever you want, baby girl,” Mommy said in Joey’s voice. “Wherever you want.”

After Joey’s mother saved her, the memories fragmented.

But the one constant from that terrible night onward were the zombies. After reanimating her mother, Joey began to raise more and more of the dead. They were often in different stages of decomposition, but the smell didn’t bother Joey at all. And the more zombies Joey raised, the stronger she felt. And Mommy was proud of her.

But, like all zombies, Mommy began to fall apart. It was then that Joey realized her mother was really gone.

Joey put her mother back into her crypt and left her there. Then she plunged into the underworld of New Orleans and turned herself into Hoodoo Mama. As Hoodoo Mama she ruled the grifters, the street hustlers, and the people who were lost and stuck on the fringes. Joey was a queen in this world, and her justice against men who hurt women was swift and terrible.

And Hoodoo Mama never let anyone hurt Joey again.

And as she watched all of this, Michelle realized she’d been wrong. Even though Michelle wanted nothing more than to erase the horror of what had happened that night from Joey’s mind, it wouldn’t be right to do it. What had happened was part of Joey now. It had made her who and what she was. There were ways for Joey to deal with her pain, but having Adesina just cut that part out was wrong. To do so would banish Hoodoo Mama forever.

They’d have to deal with Mr. Jones and his power-stealing Ace some other way.

As soon as she realized that, Michelle found herself back in the hall with Joey and Adesina. Joey was sitting on the floor.

“Sweetie, how did you get here?” Michelle asked Adesina. “I thought we said you were going to stay back in the otter room.”

“I know, Momma,” Adesina replied. She was sitting on her back legs with her front legs in Joey’s hands. Tears were running down Joey’s cheeks. “But Aunt Joey needed me, and you were stuck.”

“Did you see anything?” Michelle asked nervously.

Adesina shook her head. “No, just some zombies. But they’re everywhere in here.”

Michelle plopped down on the floor next to Joey. “You okay?” she asked.

Joey shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said. She looked at Michelle. Tears stained her cheeks, and her eyes were red and puffy. “My mother came back for me and she made him pay. She told me she’d keep me safe.” Tears ran down her cheeks. “Fuck, I hate crying,” she said. “And I never, ever, wanted to think about that again. Hoodoo Mama shut it away.”

“Look,” Michelle began as she reached out and wiped the tears from Joey’s face. “What happened to you was unspeakable. And you were just a child. You did what you needed to in order to survive.”

“Fucker asked for it,” Joey said with a hiss.

“Oh, I think that barely begins to cover it,” Michelle said. She sat down in front of Joey and took her hands. “But you were just a little girl then. Even if they steal your power, you’re a grown woman now. They can’t control you.”

“But if I’m not Hoodoo Mama, who am I?” Joey asked with a plaintive cry. “You saw what happened to me. If I’m not Hoodoo Mama, how can I stop those fuckers?”

“You’re Joey fucking Hebert,” Michelle replied. “And Joey fucking Hebert isHoodoo Mama whether she has a wild card power or not. That’s who the hell you are. And day after tomorrow we’re going to tell this Mr. Jones he’s gonna stop fucking with both of us.”

“Momma,” Adesina said. “Language.”

It was muggy and hot the morning they were to meet Mr. Jones. Joey’s eyes were gritty from lack of sleep, and she rubbed them. She’d heard Michelle get up in the middle of the night and go downstairs. Then she’d come back up to bed around four. Joey had assumed she couldn’t sleep, either.

At 8 a.m. there was a knock on the front door. Joey went to the door flanked by two linebacker-sized zombies. She found a blond woman wearing a neat navy blue suit on the porch. Then she saw a black SUV with tinted windows parked in front of the house.

“Good morning. I’m Clarice Cummings, and I’m here to pick up Miss Pond’s daughter,” the blond woman said politely. “Will you tell her I’m here?”

Another one of Mr. Jones’s scams, Joey immediately thought. Her zombies stepped toward the Cummings woman. “Yeah, I call bullshit, lady. You can tell Mr. Jones to fuck all the hell off. Or I could just send you back to him in pieces.”

“Joey, it’s okay,” Michelle said as she ran to the front door. “I called in a favor. Thank you for the help, Miss Cummings. Adesina will be right here.”

Miss Cummings smiled, and Joey decided she liked her just a little. “I’m happy to help. Adesina is one of my favorite pupils.”

“Miss Cummings!” Adesina exclaimed, pushing herself between Joey and Michelle’s legs. “Momma, you didn’t tell me Miss Cummings was going to be here!”

Michelle grinned. “I wanted it to be a surprise. Besides, you’ve missed too much school this week. Now you’re going to go with her, and I’ll come to get you later this afternoon.”

“I don’t have my school bag,” Adesina fretted.

“That won’t be a problem,” Miss Cummings said. “Everything today is on the computer.”

Adesina jumped up and down excitedly. Miss Cummings laughed, then turned and started down the steps. Adesina followed her.

“Don’t I get a kiss?” Michelle asked, her voice mock sad.

Adesina spun around, and then flew up into Michelle’s arms. “Sorry, Momma,” she said, planting a big kiss on Michelle’s cheek.

Michelle kissed Adesina’s forehead. “I’ll see you soon,” she said, and then she put Adesina down.

Adesina ran back to Miss Cummings and began chattering excitedly about lessons.

Joey shook her head. “I don’t fucking get it,” she said. “I hated school.”

“Well, Adesina loves it,” Michelle said. “And I needed someplace safe for her today. Before we came back to the States, I talked to Juliette about how to approach Adesina’s education. I didn’t want to send her to regular school, and it would have been dumb for me to homeschool her. I even thought about moving to Joker Town and having her go to school there, but I was worried everything there would be about being a Joker. And I wanted her to have as normal an education as possible.”

Joey laughed. “You mean as normal as possible for a Joker who can go into other wild cards’ minds? With a mother who’s one of the most powerful Aces on earth?” She turned and went inside. “You coming?”

“I guess,” Michelle replied. She followed Joey inside and then shut the front door. “Anyway, Juliette found out about this program for kids with wild cards. They monitor their development, they get classes, and they give them a place where they’re not the only wild card. And it’s a mix of Deuces, Aces, and Jokers. They also allow a really flexible schedule. Adesina started there when we got back from Africa.”

Michelle and Joey went down the hall into the kitchen. Joey pulled out her coffeepot and Michelle got the coffee from the cupboard. She toyed with the edge of the bag.

“There’s one more thing,” Michelle began. “Miss Cummings knows that Juliette gets Adesina if anything happens to me.”

“But nothing is going to happen to you,” Joey said. “I mean, what can they do to you?”

Michelle shrugged. “Who knows?”

But they both knew. If Michelle’s power could be stolen, she could be killed.

Michelle hadn’t been back to Jackson Square since she’d absorbed Little Fat Boy’s nuclear blast. There was a shrine to her in one corner of the park. Flowers and handmade signs decorated a small official placard.

She knew Mr. Jones had chosen Jackson Square to screw with her. Absorbing that blast had done something terrible to Michelle. It had driven her half-mad and had caused her to fall into a coma where she’d wandered alone for over a year. That is, until Adesina had found her and pulled her out of that dark, insane place.

The Square and surrounding area were oddly vacant, and Michelle didn’t like that at all. She and Joey were the only people there. Even Café Du Monde was bizarrely vacant. And there were usually a least a couple of homeless people camped out on the benches. But not this morning. No doubt part of Mr. Jones’s preparations.

She scanned the area. Mr. Jones hadn’t arrived yet, but she and Joey were a little early. Joey was keeping watch on the whole square using zombie birds and insects. They’d agreed that Joey wouldn’t make a big display of zombie power. Not only because they wanted Mr. Jones to see they were cooperating, but in case Joey’s power got taken again, there would be fewer dead things for the other wild card to use.

“How the hell did they clear everyone out of here?” Joey asked. She jammed her hands into her jeans pockets and rocked back on her heels.

Michelle shrugged. “I have no idea,” she replied. “But they must have clout to clear it during Mardi Gras.”

“You’re early,” Mr. Jones said.

Michelle jumped, and then turned. Dorothy and a young man in a hooded sweatshirt were standing next to him. A bubble formed in her hand. She made it heavy. When it released, it would be fast as hell. When it hit, there would be carnage. They might nab her power, but she was going to get one last bubble off. And make it count.

“Hello, Michelle,” Dorothy called out brightly. Today she was wearing a pale blue dress with a striped apron, and her hair was done up in pigtails.

“You’re running with a bad crowd,” Michelle replied. The bubble quavered in her hand. “But cute outfit.”

Dorothy grinned and smoothed her skirt. “Thanks! My mother always said I’d end up in trouble.”

It was an odd group: the girl, the boy in the hoodie, and the man who was so obviously a kill-first-ask-questions-later type. Michelle knew Dorothy’s power was teleportation, so she wasn’t the power thief. That just left Mr. Jones and the kid with the unfortunate complexion.

“I’m just here for a little conversation,” Mr. Jones said with a toothy smile. Despite the mugginess and rapidly rising heat, he looked cool. Michelle wondered how that was possible. Even his suit was crisp and impeccable.

“Dorothy you already know. This is Dan. He’s the one who’s been lifting Miss Hebert’s power.”

“Fucker!” Joey yelled.

“Oh, most likely not,” Mr. Jones said. “If you were downwind of him, you’d know why.”

“Hey!” Hoodie Boy said.

“Why are you telling us this?” Michelle asked. “I mean, can you not see this bubble? Can your boy yank both our powers before I get this bubble off?”

Mr. Jones smiled, and Michelle really wished she hadn’t seen it. She’d battled crazy people before. She’d even fought people she was convinced were evil. But Mr. Jones was worse. His eyes were cold and dead. And the suit and all of his smiles couldn’t disguise that he was devoid of humanity.

“I thought I was clear, Miss Pond,” he said. “Killing me—or even all three of us—won’t stop my organization. Consider me an errand boy. I make deliveries, send messages, take out the trash. In the great scheme of things, I am unimportant.”

He smiled again. It didn’t improve upon repetition.

“For instance,” he said. “I could kill young Dan here.” Then, in one swift motion, he reached into his jacket, pulled out a Glock, and held it to Hoodie Boy’s head.

“Fuck!” Joey said.

“Shit!” Hoodie Boy said.

Michelle let her bubble fly—but Dorothy touched Mr. Jones and Hoodie Boy, and they teleported ten feet to the left. The bubble hit the wrought-iron fence surrounding the park and blew an enormous hole in it.

“Settle down, Miss Pond,” Mr. Jones said. “I’m just trying to explain that even useful people reach an end to their usefulness. Dan’s been handy, but his power, unlike yours, now appears to be unpredictable. But we adapt.”

“Jesus, dude,” Hoodie Boy said his voice quavering. “I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t shoot me.”

“Miss Hebert has a very nice power, but her psychological profile is … subpar,” Mr. Jones continued with a slight smile, ignoring Dan. “She’s too unstable to be of any real use to us other than to manipulate you.”

Michelle wanted to blow a hole in him but knew that Dorothy would just teleport them again.

That’s when Michelle heard it. A faint rustling noise above her.

She looked up and there—spiraling down towards them—were hundreds of zombie birds. Dan, Mr. Jones, and Dorothy followed her gaze.

“How irritating,” Mr. Jones said. “Dorothy …”

The girl grabbed the back of Dan’s hoodie, and they ported. They reappeared next to Joey, and Dan grabbed her hand. Joey shrieked.

The zombie birds suddenly started flying erratically, crashing into one another.

Then Dan screamed, and his face turned red. Veins bulged out from his neck.

“Dan,” Mr. Jones said calmly. “You’re such a disappointment.” He grimaced and leveled his Glock at Dan again. One moldy pigeon flew into Mr. Jones’s face, and then Dan and Joey gasped at the same time.

The flock of zombie birds coalesced again and began to lower onto Mr. Jones and Dan.

“You played with my pain, fucker,” Joey said. “That wasn’t nice.”

Dan scrambled to his knees and lunged at Michelle. He touched her bare arm, and there was a terrible wrenching inside her. The world tilted and went grey for a moment. Then the contact was broken, and Michelle staggered backwards. She was empty inside, as if someone had scooped out part of her. It was awful.

Dan made a whimpering noise and fell to his knees as bubbles filled his hands and rose into the zombie birds coming for him. But instead of exploding, the bubbles just kept floating upward as if made from soapy water.

Then Michelle’s power flowed back into her like a tidal wave. It filled her up and made her whole. Relief surged into her. She was Bubbles again.

Dan was still on the ground. It was clear to Michelle that his power-snatching ability was spent. So that just left Dorothy and her teleportation, and Mr. Jones and his Glock.

“Little girl,” Joey said, her voice cold, “Dorothy’s your name? I suggest you bounce back to the fuckers who sent you and you tell them that we’re off-limits. Or there will be more of this.”

And then, in an eyeblink, the zombie flock descended on Mr. Jones and Dan.

Dan just lay there, twitching and crying, as the birds blanketed him. Michelle had a momentary twinge of guilt at seeing him buried under the birds, but then she remembered how she felt when he lifted her power and a cold anger filled her.

Mr. Jones pulled his Glock and began firing, but his bullets were useless against the zombie flock. Then he lowered his gun and aimed at Joey, but it was too late.

The birds engulfed him, and he shrieked as they ripped his flesh. He dropped his gun and began yanking the birds away from his face, tearing them to pieces as he did. But there were too many. And still they rained down on him.

“I’m Hoodoo Mama, fuckers,” Joey said. Her tone was icy and imperious. “And this is my parish.”

Dorothy squeaked, then vanished.

It grew dark, and Michelle looked up again. The sky was filled now with thousands of dead birds blotting out the sun. Crows, pigeons, waterfowl, sparrows, and more that she didn’t recognize. She’d never seen Joey resurrect so many dead things at once before.

And when Michelle looked back at Joey, she was filled with awe. The scared and nervous girl Michelle had been trying to protect was gone. Joey’s eyes had turned solid black, and her face was filled with rage. It seemed as if she were growing larger and larger. As if she had become a force of nature.

No. She had become a force beyond nature.

A force stronger than death.

She had become Hoodoo Mama.

And God help anyone who messed with her.

In the next instant Mr. Jones vanished, enveloped by the zombie flock. He screamed and screamed and screamed. Blood pooled under the mass of birds.

“Oh Jesus!” he shrieked. “Help me! Jesus, help me!”

“Jesus can’t save you, fucker,” Joey said in a cold voice. “No one can.”

Then the mass of birds collapsed as Mr. Jones crumpled to the ground. Even then he kept kicking and screaming.

“Mommy,” he cried. “Mommy!” His voice rose up into a high-pitched keen.

Then he fell silent. For almost a minute, one of his feet would pop out of the mass of birds as he kicked and flailed.

But after a while, Mr. Jones stopped doing even that.

And Dan was already still and silent.

Joey turned then and looked at Michelle with a beatific smile on her face.

“I think you were right, Bubbles,” she said. “I think I am going to be okay.”

With that, Joey threw her arms wide open and spun around. Ten thousand zombie birds swirled around her and rose back up to the sky.