George Martin - Busted flush

"Don't try anything," Fortune said. "There are dozens of aces here. You can't take us all down."

I glanced around. The SCARE aces had obviously decided that Weathers was a bigger threat than we were. They had turned their attention from us to him and were slowly circling.

"To hell with you and the Committee, Fortune," Weathers said. "And those nimrods from SCARE. What I want now is Bahir. I frown on people who kidnap my child."

Fortune laughed. "You're not getting Bahir," he said. "You've got Sprout. We've got Drake. End of conversation."

A cruel smile formed on Weathers's face. Bad as his angry face was, this one was worse. There was a horrible feeling in my gut. Worse than when those helicopters had gone down in Egypt and all those people had died.

Weathers gave a yank at the medallion around his neck. The leather cord broke, leaving a thin line of blood on his neck. He began to swing the medallion around. It reminded me of Lohengrin patterning his sword. It spun faster and faster, glinting in the sun.

My hands started shaking. Drake had hold of one of them, and he squeezed it.

"You were always a clever boy, Fortune," Weathers said. The medallion whirred. "I could have used you in The Movement. But you had to go and work for the government." He moved backward, taking Sprout with him. "Oh, wait, you work for all the governments. That makes you the worst traitor of all."

He kissed Sprout on the forehead and opened his free arm wide. "Hop up, baby." Sprout wrapped her arms and legs around him as if she really were a four-year-old. And he began to slowly rise into the air.

"I can't kill you all," he said, looking around the park. "But he can."

The medallion flew from his hand and hit Drake in the chest. Drake stood there, frozen for a moment. Then he staggered back, pushing me into the statue of Andrew Jackson, and we both fell against the statue. Weathers shot into the sky and disappeared.

"Drake!" I cried. "Oh, my God, Drake!"

I slid out from behind him, then looked down and saw that the medallion was buried in his chest. Drake reached a shaking hand up and touched the blood, then pulled the medallion out of his chest. He held it up in front of his face as if he couldn't decide what it was. His eyes began to glow.

A cold knife went into my heart.

I looked up and saw Cameo, Hoodoo Mama, and Earth Witch running toward us.

"Stop!" I shouted. As if that would save them.

"God help us," I heard a velvety voice say. I looked up and saw the Midnight Angel hovering above us.

"Get out of here! Get everyone out!"

"Michelle!" screamed Cameo.

"Go! Everyone go! Now!"

I turned to Fortune. But at that moment, he started screaming. His golden glow had intensified. Squinting, I saw his hand go up to his face.

"No," he said as his body twitched and spasmed. "No… NO… NO!" His head jerked around like a hooked fish. The scarab that was always outlined against his forehead was moving… getting bigger… expanding… until his flesh burst apart. Fortune shrieked, and blood covered his face and ran down his chest.

Sekhmet.

The golden radiance abandoned Fortune, and he collapsed to the ground. Sekhmet scurried toward Drake, and I was too shocked to stop her from crawling up his leg and then into the hole in his chest.

Sekhmet and Fortune had struggled for control between them for as long as I knew. But maybe she could control Drake. Maybe she could stop him.

Drake began to kick, and his back bowed. He began to babble in a language I'd never heard before. But the light wasn't just coming out of his eyes anymore. It filled his mouth, beamed out from his ears. The hole in Drake's chest began to sizzle and smell like frying bacon as the white-hot light poured from his wound.

"NO! NO!" he yelled in a strange voice. "By the light of all the Gods, I cannot stop him!"

"Drake," I said, shaking him. "Drake, Sekhmet, look at me!"

He looked at me and I was afraid.

"Let it go," I said. "But let it come to me."

I guess there's always a moment when we have to make a choice. And sometimes, there's just no choice to be made. You do what you can, and you hope it's enough.

I pulled Drake into my arms and held him as tight as I could. I hoped that Ink would find someone who would love her better. And I hoped that Niobe would be happy, even if it was with Noel. I hoped like hell that the whole damn city wouldn't be ruined.

I hoped that I would be enough.

He exploded.

I felt my body instantly expand to its maximum size. The power raged into me like molten lead. It burned and sang and made me want to bubble forever. The concrete cracked under us as I became heavier and heavier.

The power went on and on, building inside me, but I couldn't let it escape.

I dropped to my knees with Drake collapsing in my arms. And still the power came into me. It was like being bathed in a never-ending fire. I couldn't have stopped it even if I'd wanted to. And I didn't want to.

This was what it felt like to touch God.

I opened my eyes to the sky, and I looked directly into the sun overhead.

And it didn't blind me.

Kate sat curled up in a chair by John's hospital bed. She'd come here to explain to him in person. She hadn't known he would be in the hospital. The timing of all this was shitty.

He'd have a scar, the doctors said. They'd stitched the wound as well as they could, but Sekhmet had done a lot of damage when she tore out of his head. He was lucky he hadn't bled to death.

Sekhmet had done a lot of damage to him, period.

His forehead was bandaged, so she couldn't see the wound. Probably for the best. John seemed to be sleeping soundly for the first time in… For the first time since she'd started sleeping with him. His expression was slack rather than tense with unconscious anxiety.

She thought she might try to find some soda or coffee or something. Straightening, she winced-her arm was still sore. She'd stopped taking the pain pills. They made her fuzzy. She wanted to stay sharp, for just a little while longer.

Then she could collapse into a sobbing puddle of tears, when no one was looking.

As she stood, John opened his eyes.

"Hey," she said, moving to his side.

He gave a tired smile. He might not be able to do much more than that for now. Maybe they ought to enjoy this time, this moment in limbo, before they had to make any decisions.

"You're here." He even managed to sound surprised. "I thought you were pissed off at me."

"I am," she said. "I was. We can talk about that later."

He shook his head, annoyed, and tried to sit up. Winced, slumped back, and picked at the IV line, which had become tangled with his hand. She helped straighten it.

"This changes everything. It's all different now," he said.

"What are you talking about?"

His weak smile turned bitter. "I'm right back where I started. No powers. Nothing. I'll be resigning from the Committee. Then… I don't know."

If ever there was a moment she wanted to throw something at him, this was it. "Is that what this is about? You feeling sorry for yourself because you don't have a beetle woman living in your head anymore?"

He frowned. "She wasn't that bad."

"Not that bad? She-"

"She left me," he said. "She chose me, and then she left me, and it's like I'm… I'm empty. I feel empty."

Kate felt the expression of horror on her face, and she couldn't erase it. John actually sounded sad that he had his own life back.

And for the first time Kate realized that with their telepathic and emotional link, he'd been closer to Isra than he'd ever be to her.

Kate closed her eyes and took a breath. Probably shouldn't be yelling in a hospital room. But she wanted to.