George R.R. Martin - [Wild Cards 18] (16 page)

They waited in catering, some on chairs, some pacing, all of them growing more nervous. Ana and Kate sat side-by-side, looking out over the back end of the set; struts and lights and cables hung everywhere, people in headsets and clipboards wandering back and forth. The dark underbelly of Hollywood magic.

“We have to win this one,” Kate said. She leaned forward, elbows on knees, glaring at nothing in particular. She smiled when John looked their way and waved at them.

Ana’s own nervous twitch found her tracing the outline of her Santa Barbara medallion under her shirt. It was almost a form of prayer. But she wasn’t praying to win the task.

Please, God, get me through this. Get me through the next hour without going insane
.

“We did the best we could,” she said to Kate. “Whatever happens, happens. I’m still happy.”

“Whatever happens will be exactly how they rig it to happen,” DB said. He was pacing back and forth along the wall, glaring like a caged animal. He nodded to where the three judges had arrived—Berman was already talking to them.

Ana hated to think that DB might be right.

Team Spades arrived, and they looked smug. Crap. They’d succeeded at their treasure hunt, too. The six Spades teammates ranged out and regarded them, from the two bombshells Pop Tart and Rosa Loteria, the iron-skinned Rustbelt, Simoon and the Candle, on down to the show’s youngest contestant, eleven-year-old Dragon Girl. “Hey, it’s the big losers,” Rosa said. “You guys didn’t actually get anything done this time, did you? You gave up early, right?” Her grin was gloating.

Ana glared at her. People had expected the two of them—both Latinas—to bond, but Ana didn’t much like Rosa. She’d never met anyone so brazen.

Before anyone could respond, Pop Tart vanished, reappeared next to DB, and gave him a smile and wink. “Hey, honey, will I see you around after the show’s done?”

DB had the gall to glance at Kate before saying, “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Hmm, we’ll have to see about that.” Pop Tart ran a finger down the uppermost of DB’s arms before turning to follow the rest of her team to the stage.

Kate pointedly, fiercely, ignored the exchange.

Dragon Girl—Rachel—smiled cheerfully and waved. “See you guys later.”

Ana waved back halfheartedly.

“We’re so screwed,” Hardhat said.

Ana and the others were only slightly encouraged when the Clubs and Diamonds arrived, looking glum.

Kate leaned over to Ana. “How could Clubs have gone bust? They’ve got Diver, this should have been a piece of cake.”

“Maybe they’ll show it on the replay.”

The evening only grew more agonizingly tense. Finally, they were called to the stage. It’d all be over soon.

This time, Peregrine’s gown was a magnificent royal purple, sleek and tailored in all the right places. She knew just how to stand to make sure the slit up the side showed off her legs to best advantage. Her hair shone and her smile glittered.

Once again, she welcomed them onstage for their reckoning. Three more of them would be eliminated—discarded—tonight. This was serious. This was war.

First came the replay segments, and Peregrine showed the failures. The other teams had fliers who had made short work of the maze. The obstacle course hadn’t slowed the teams much either. But the water had proven formidable.

Team Diamonds hadn’t been able to retrieve the safe. Matryoshka split, then split again, until eight little versions of the ace—stupid little versions, since they divided the original’s intelligence between them—attempted to swim to the safe. They only ended up floundering like wind-up tub toys, until Tiffani herded them together and coaxed them into reforming. The Maharajah sent his telekinetic servants in the form of shirts, but they hadn’t been strong enough to carry the safe back. Finally, the Amazing Bubbles had tried blasting water out of the pond. She grew thinner and thinner as she released more energy, and managed to empty about half the pond when the air horn sounded, calling an end to the task. The sun was setting by then. Of the performance, Topper observed wryly, “At least you’re persistent.”

All the contestants watched Clubs’ attempt with interest, because the team’s dejected demeanor could only mean that they’d failed. But how? When they found the lake, their expressions were triumphant—water! Diver’s element. They acted like they’d already won. Diver leapt into the water to confirm the prize’s location, and with her help Toad Man made easy work of pulling it to the surface.

Then they stalled. They poked at the safe, pounded at it, prodded it, rolled it, jumped on it, pried at the handles, fiddled with the combination. Stuntman tried hitting it, but he was indestructible, not superstrong. When Brave Hawk tried
lifting the safe, thinking to fly with it and drop it from a height, his wings disappeared. He had strength
or
flight, but not both. Holy Roller even climbed up the side of the arena, pulled himself into his massive human ball shape, and threw his substantial mass down to crash into the safe like a bowling ball. He managed to tip it over, sprawling over it, vaguely resembling a beached whale. Nothing. The longer they couldn’t open it, the angrier they got. It was like watching a troop of monkeys. They degenerated into yelling at each other, and even the preacher on the team couldn’t keep peace between them.

“That could have been a whole lot better,” said the Harlem Hammer, in polite understatement.

Even Topper couldn’t put a nice spin on it. “I’m disappointed. You all showed such promise last week.” She shook her head, and the weight of shame settling on Team Clubs was palpable.

Downs worked up to his own commentary, glaring at them for a long moment, then raising his hand dramatically to tick off items on his fingers. “No points for effort. No points for style.
Nothing
for teamwork. And absolutely nothing for the least awe-inspiring performance I’ve seen yet. Which is sad, ’cause you guys were that close.” He held thumb and forefinger nearly together. “That close to beating this challenge. And you flushed it.” He scowled as if seriously, intensely, and personally disgusted by them.

The mood lightened as they moved on to the successes.

Dragon Girl carried the day for Team Spades. She’d had Shamu tucked in her backpack. The girl put the stuffed souvenir into the water, and a full grown killer whale burst forth. The whale swam a circuit of the pond to show off, dove to retrieve the safe, and spit it onshore at Dragon Girl’s feet. Rustbelt had only to touch it to dissolve the metal into a pile of rust, leaving the prize for the taking.

It would be up to the judges to decide this one.

“And now, Team Hearts,” Peregrine said. “Let’s watch.”

There was Ana’s feat in replay, almost as impressive on the screen as it had been in person. The hills fell, feeding earth to the island that rose from the middle of the pond, displacing a
flood of water, massive geological action slipping by in seconds. Watching it, Ana could hardly believe it herself.
She’d
done
that?

Topper actually smiled. “Earth Witch, that was an amazing piece of work. I can’t wait to see what you pull out next.”

Downs—the worst of them, the most irascible, impossible to please—drew out his moment, tapping a pencil, acting like he couldn’t find the words. He was playing this for suspense. Then he said, “If I ever hear you say ’I just dig holes’ again, I’ll kick your ass myself.”

There was some laughter at that, and Ana flushed with relief.
I survived.

Curveball’s crack at the safe—simple, elegant, effortless—was the perfect end to the replay. Hearts hadn’t just succeeded at the challenge. They’d made it look easy.

Harlem Hammer delivered the verdict this time: “Team Spades, you got lucky. If Dragon Girl hadn’t had that particular stuffie in her sack, what would you have done? On the other hand, Team Hearts pushed their abilities to the edge. They’re mastering their powers, and they’re doing it as a team. For that reason, tonight’s victory and immunity go to Team Hearts.”

They cheered, all of them together, and hugged, a chaotic mass of people—with a foxtail stuck out and waving. DB waded into the middle and picked up Kate with one set of arms and Ana with the other. They squealed with surprise and laughter as he lifted them into the air.

Grinning fiercely, Kate leaned over and spoke across the top of DB’s head to Ana, “I’ll see you in the finals!”

Hearts House had a party that night, because they didn’t have to stand around the table and pick cards. Didn’t have to kick anyone out. Music played—Wild Fox put a Joker Plague CD in the stereo, which immediately endeared him to Drummer Boy and made up for all his pranks. The drummer entertained them by adding live accompaniment, tapping the membranes on his torso and pounding out improvised rhythms.

Drinking sodas, Ana and Kate watched from the kitchen bar.

“Winning feels pretty good, doesn’t it?” Kate said.

“Yeah,” Ana answered. In fact, the whole world had opened up.

“It only gets better from here, I bet,” Kate said. Her smile fell, though, as Drummer Boy made his way over to them. The song had ended, and after grabbing a beer from the fridge, he veered to the bar, throwing a glare at Ana like he wanted her to leave.

He wasn’t going to scare her off that easy.

Expectantly, the two waited for him.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” Kate said back. Ana waved. Again, he gave her that glare. She kept smiling like she hadn’t noticed.

He ducked his gaze, which almost made him look sheepish, and said to Kate, “I was wondering if you maybe wanted to take a walk or something. Or just go out back and talk. To celebrate. I’ll sneak you a beer.” He showed off the beer bottle in one of his left hands.

She smiled thinly. “Still trying to get me into bed?”

His expression showed a moment of hesitation, like he was trying to decide which way to play this. Then he decided, offering a broad grin. “You can’t blame a guy for trying.”

“Yes, I can.” Her smile cut like glass.

DB walked away, draining half the beer.

Kate blew out a breath she must have been holding. The front door opened; Kate looked over her shoulder at it. Wild Fox and Hardhat were stepping outside.

“I was sort of hoping John would stop by,” she explained to Ana, then took a long drink of soda to hide her expression.

The next time the front door opened, Ana was in the fridge getting more sodas, but she heard Kate hiss, “Oh my God!”

Ana looked. “What is it?”

A man in his late thirties had just come in, a white guy with sun-streaked blond hair and stunning blue eyes. He stuck his hands in his jeans pockets and looked around like he was lost.

“Is that Brad Pitt?” Kate said. “That looks like Brad Pitt.”

It certainly did. Despite her whispering, the actor heard her. When he saw Kate, his blue eyes lit up and he came over.

More Hollywood magic. Ana was glad she had a front-row seat for this.

“You’re Curveball,” Brad said. “I recognize you from
American Hero.”

“Yeah,” Kate said, nodding and gaping.

“I heard there was a party, so I thought I’d stop by. Is that okay?”

“Yeah. Sure. Cool.” Kate was still nodding. “Um…can I get you a Coke or something?”

“Sure. That’d be great.”

Kate took one of the cans from Ana’s hand and handed it to him. His famous grin widened.

Ana studied the actor—the well-known actor who just happened to show up on their doorstep. She wondered…and decided she had to try it. If she was wrong, she could apologize and go back to being the socially awkward member of the team with no harm done.

She put her hand on his shoulder and shoved. Brad Pitt disappeared in a shimmer of light, leaving Wild Fox holding the soda. He cringed, trying to maintain his charming smile. But he couldn’t pull it off like Brad could.

Kate took a moment to register the transformation. Then, she shouted, “Oh, you son of a bitch!”

“Hey, I was just having fun! Don’t throw anything, don’t throw—” He ran, and she chased him, cocking an empty can like she really was going to throw it. Last Ana saw, they went over the sofa and out the back door.

Ana sighed. Now
that
was going to play well on TV. She didn’t know if the contest was going to get better, but it was certainly going to get more interesting.