License Invoked

Chapter 16

"Where the hell have you two been?" Fee snarled as Liz and Boo-Boo came into the dressing room. "There's only minutes left before the concert starts!"

"We know it," that annoying Elizabeth Mayfield said, in that maddeningly calm voice of hers. How could she and Fee have been such close friends once? "We're here now."

Fionna paced up and down, smoking cigarette after cigarette. The tight, green dress caused the wires sewn into it to rub against her skin. The itch made her frantic. She wanted to tear the dress off and run naked out of the place. Hmmm, she thought, that might make good headlines. Then she dismissed the idea. The last thing she wanted to do right now was draw extra attention to herself. The monsters could come out of nowhere and get her. What a comedown! New Orleans ought to have been the saving of her. Instead, she was more uncertain of herself than ever. New evils were popping up all over, ones she'd never heard of before, and people were walking out on her all over the place. Even her assigned minders had gone on a tour of the town!

She took a long drag at her cigarette and breathed out twin plumes of smoke at the agents like a dragon in pre-toast mode. "You're supposed to be protecting me!"

"We were looking for Ms. Robbie," Boo-Boo said, calmly, "but we're here now. You look very nice, ma'am. The dress matches your hair just exactly."

Seeing nothing but a blandly pleasant face, Fionna threw up her hands and started pacing again. Lloyd came to loom over them, expressionless as a golem. The security man was clad in black turtleneck and slacks, topped off with a charcoal jacket that set off his broad shoulders and concealed who knew what else. He looked devastatingly effective, very masculine and completely dishy. Elizabeth understood what attracted Fee to the man.

"Has everything been going all right?" Liz asked Lloyd.

He nodded. Liz admired his ability to be a total professional when the occasion called for it. Now that he had accepted the situation, he was willing to be cooperative. "Show's ready to go. I haven't let her out of my sight, not even in the toilets. Did you find the silly woman?"

"No," Liz sighed. "We lost the trail."

Lloyd frowned. "Shouldn't you still be looking?"

Liz shook her head. "Our place is with Fee. If there's going to be another attack, we need to be right here with her, not out looking for Robbie." Lloyd nodded curtly. He didn't fuss over what couldn't be helped.

"That makes sense." He flipped open a radio and spoke into it. "No sign of her, Mr. Lemoine."

The mild voice of the Superdome master control operator came from the small speaker. "I'll let Security know, Mr. Preston. Everybody's on alert."

Lloyd flipped the unit shut. "If she shows her face, she's ours."

Fionna lit another cigarette off the first one, dropped the stub and ground it into the tiles with a silver-lame-stacked-heel shoe.

"I hate the waitin'," she said. "I've always hated it."

Fitz stood by the wall of the dressing room with sewing supplies at the ready in case Fionna's dress needed last minute repairs. He regarded Boo-Boo and Liz with an open-eyed stare of wonder blended copiously with fear. Liz gave him a smile meant to be reassuring. His hand groped in a pocket. Liz, with every sense tuned to its highest chord, sensed a small touch of magic within the cloth, probably a good luck charm for protection against the unknown.

They might need that little bit of good luck to help get them through the night. She herself had grounded firmly in Earth power and filled up her personal batteries as far as they would go before entering the Superdome. She wished that they'd been able to find Robbie. So many questions were left unanswered. Was she working for anyone else, and if so, who? What was her motive? Why attack Fionna, whose music espoused largely benevolent causes?

Nigel Peters came into the dressing room, looking haggard. He headed directly for Fionna and took the cigarette out of her fingers.

"Give me that!" she wailed. "I need it."

"Don't constrict your voice with smoke, darling," he said. "Here." He handed her a drink instead. Fionna gulped it greedily. Laura Manning stepped forward and deftly made up Fee's mouth again with bright orange paint. Fionna didn't even notice her. She was too preoccupied.

"What'ch you starin' at, Ms. Mayfield?" she demanded, brogue on full red alert.

"I..." Liz stopped herself from sounding too familiar with all these people here. "What's the matter? I know you've done hundreds of these shows. This isn't even your largest crowd. You couldn't possibly have stage fright."

"It's not that." Even under the heavy makeup, Fionna looked white-eyed. She refused to make eye contact with Liz.

"Don't be a fool," Liz said briskly, stepping right in front of her to get her attention. "You've proved that there really is bad magic attacking you. It's real."

"Oh, that really helps!" Fionna exploded, glaring at Liz. But the attack of bad temper did help her. It helped her forget how frightened she was for a moment. Curse Elizabeth Mayfield and her Yank scarecrow. They were right much too often.

The scarecrow had something to say as well.

"It's better to be afraid of real things, Ms. Kenmare," he said, aiming those blue, blue eyes at her. "You can do something about 'em. Meantime, you just give 'em the best show you know how. You'll be fine once you're out there."

"And what the hell do you know about show business?" Fionna demanded, shooting looks of hate at both agents.

"Apart from small parts in school dramas, nothing," Liz said, cheerfully. "But you're an old pro, Ms. Kenmare. These are your fans. They love you. All you need to do is go out there and... er, wow them. There's nothing new for you in that."

"This," Fionna said tightly, "is the first time in two years we've done a show without any effects."

"I see," Liz said. And she did. Fionna herself was on show, as she hadn't been for ages. Once upon a time, Phoebe Kendale had been a part of those same small school productions as Liz. Those were as bare bones as any skeleton, but she'd shone as a natural performer, drawing every eye. Once she'd gone into music, Green Fire had been a small group that played coffee houses and small venues. In part, it had to have been her charisma that rocketed them into the view of some unknown talent-seeker. Since they had made the big time Fee had hidden behind all the fancy touches available to her. She's forgotten that her talent means something, Liz thought sympathetically. She considered reassuring Fee, but realized how stupid it would sound coming from a secret service agent who supposedly had never met the star in all her life. And Fee probably wouldn't be grateful for it anyhow.

Lloyd was underimpressed. "This is what they pay you for, from my tax dollars? Pep talks?"

"If that's what's needed," Liz said. "And now, if you'll forgive me, I have to concentrate."

She withdrew to the side of the dressing room to ready the arsenal in her handbag. Everything had been replenished from the suitcases in her hotel room and augmented by materiel from Boo-Boo's bottomless pockets. She flicked through them, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen packets, plus whatever charms she knew that didn't require a physical component. The most important tools she had were likely to be the litany of her memorized spells of protection. She started muttering them to herself, readying a framework to weave around Fionna. It was a shame they hadn't found the girl. It was a shame they hadn't had time to go over the facility again before the concert began. All they could do was concentrate on the focus of every attack so far.

Fee went back to pacing. It was hard because the damned floor was parquet wood. Every little crack broke her mother's back. She was afraid of causing bad luck to her mother, or anyone else! That kind of thing rebounded upon one. Instead of wanting to run out into the street, she wanted to find a tiny, enclosed place and hide in it until this was all over. Ten minutes. Eight minutes. Six minutes.

Liz watched Fee twisting her feet to fit inside the narrow boards, and guessed what was going through her mind. Little acts like that didn't do much good, not when there was so much power floating around. Fee had a right to be nervous. The heady feeling she had sensed earlier was greater than before, growing as the Superdome filled with people excited about the upcoming concert.

The assistant floor director appeared at the door of the dressing room. "Ready for you in five, Ms. Kenmare. Will you come upstairs with us now?"

"This is it, darlings," Nigel Peters said. He came up to clasp Fee's hands and lead her toward the door. Fitz caught up the train of her green dress and followed like a royal courtier. The others fell into step behind them.

The tunnel at the top was dark. The only light was provided by tiny laser flashlights directed at the floor by stagehands invisible on either side of them. Liz could feel those thousands of people out there all waiting excitedly for the moment when the show would begin. The crew was taut with anticipation, too. The red dots shook as they guided the group safely to the curtained enclosure behind the north end of the stage behind the huge speakers. The rest of the band, musicians and singers waited there, concealed in the dimness. Spotlights went on, shakily, Liz thought. Hugh Banks was invisible in his circle of video monitors just behind the stage, but she could hear his calm voice counting out, "Ready in three, two, one."

The unseen crowd erupted in a thunderous roar as Michael, looking like an angel in shining white silk, led the band out onto the stage. As they appeared, each man and woman was encased in a spotlight's beam, transforming them from people to tall, white church tapers. He raised a hand as the others took their places, and brought it down across his guitar strings in a deafening thrummm. One, two, three beat Voe's drumsticks, and the music leaped to life. It filled Liz's ears, and caused her ribcage to hum.

She hung back with Fionna, standing on the first step, eye level with the bottom of the stage. She had the impression of a mosaic of faintly gleaming dots in the middle distance. Faces. Thousands of faces. All these people had come to see Green Fire, to see Fionna. Every seat was packed. So was every square inch of floor right up to the foot of the stage. The tunnel behind them was an artificial lifeline to the empty spaces behind the scenes. She could well understand why Fionna might want to flee, but why she couldn't. The very force of their anticipation took hold of her, pulling her, making her want to go forward into the spotlight. She could go out there, in a pale, slinky blue dress, burst into song, and make them love her! Her, Elizabeth Mayfield!

Oh, yes, of course, she corrected herself wryly. What would she sing? "Happy Birthday"? "God Save the Queen"?

She became aware that Fee was clutching her left forearm. Lloyd loomed over both of them from behind her.

"Stay where I can see ye, all roit?" Fee asked, in a breathy whisper. Just for a moment, Liz's old school friend peered out from behind the bright face paint.

"We'll be with you the whole time," Liz assured her. She drew a circle over the other woman's head, dropping the net of protection over her and closed her hands to seal the spell. Fee nodded once, then she was gone. Glowing Celtic knotwork appeared in midair, the product of Tommy Fitzgibbon's careful tailoring, then another candle appeared on the stage, a green one. Fionna's key light flashed on, revealing her to the audience. The shouts and cheers grew louder.

Borne forward on the crowd's acclaim, Fionna Kenmare sailed straight out to the center of the stage, where a dozen lights hit her all at once. She threw her head back, and with a wild scream, leaped straight into her song, landing between one note and another. Liz held her breath. She was fantastic. They were all fantastic. Rehearsal had been a much-diluted image of what was to come. No matter how scared Fee had been, she would give them a terrific show.

A hand encircled her elbow, startling her out of her reverie. She glanced to her left. Boo-Boo stood there, a grin on his face. He brought his mouth very close to her ear, to be heard over the incredible din.

"Wish we could just stand here and enjoy it," he said.

Ah, yes, Liz thought, with regret. They were on guard, and their unknown perpetrator was still on the loose. Boo nodded forward. After exchanging glances with the stage manager, the two agents slipped into their watching post, in among the gigantic speakers. Lloyd was already on stage, an ominously large presence in self-effacing charcoal among the thick cables that snaked up a decorative pillar to a platform containing now-to-be-unused special effects materials. His head turned as the agents appeared. He regarded them for a moment, then the head swiveled back to continue the ongoing surveillance of the arena.

Invisible to the crowd, Liz and Boo stood in reflected darkness while the show went on only feet away from them. The arguments and disagreements that occurred during rehearsal had dissipated, and were forgotten. No disharmony existed in the circle of the stage. No mental or emotional space separated the hired musicians and backup singers from the band itself. They were all one in an uplifting tornado of sound. The natural magic arising from Green Fire's fierce music was benevolent. They loved their fans, and their fans loved them. The stage was surrounded by a sea of tossing hands as the patrons in the seats on the arena floor got up to dance.

Fionna circulated about the big stage, one hand clutching the microphone, the other beckoning, exhorting the audience to get into the spirit of song with her. Vibrated nearly off her feet by the rhythm pounding out of the towering speakers, Liz almost wished she'd worn earplugs, but then she'd have missed the way that the whole sound came together. The contact high of magic was heady. She drew on it, keeping her protective spell strong.

As Fee rounded the west side, heading for the rear, her eyes were scanning. Liz wondered what she was worrying about. Had she spotted Robbie in the crowd? When they settled on Liz and Boo-Boo in the shadows, her shoulders relaxed visibly. Elizabeth relaxed, too. Fee just wanted to make sure they were keeping their promise to stay with her. Across the way, Lloyd shifted. Jealous again, Liz thought, though the man's face was the blank mask he assumed on duty. Liz felt a certain amount of sympathy for him. He couldn't protect her from this kind of danger, and he hated that.

Michael stepped forward, coming up beside Fionna. The two of them circled, challenging one another line by line with the melody. Liz watched his fingers fly with fascination, then gave herself a mental slap on the wrist. She was not to fall into a trance, no matter how wonderful it was to have the Guitarchangel playing only steps away. Her job was to protect Fionna.

Which was not too difficult at present. Robbie had not turned up again, according to Hugh Banks, the floor director, who was hovering around behind the scenes, whispering orders into his headset. Liz was concerned with the steady buildup of magical energy in the hall, but perhaps the threat would not be realized, since the antagonist who might have misdirected it was gone.

She had been trying all this time to work out the ramifications of a magical onslaught against someone like Fionna Kenmare. What purpose could it possibly serve? She was famous, but there were hundreds of music stars with household name recognition. It had to be because of the magic. She was associated with it. No one would blink an eye if tomorrow he or she read a headline that said there had been a magical blowout at a Green Fire concert. But what was the international connection? No foreign presence had been remarked upon at the site of the previous attack in Dublin. Only an insider could have recognized the undercover agent for what he was.

The biggest puzzle was why Robbie?—and, more to the point, how? How had she channeled her natural though untrained knack for magic into a formidable, focused weapon without it showing up on the radar of either Boo-Boo's department or Liz's own? The incantations involved must be new, powerful and far-reaching, the product of some heavy-duty research. That made Liz nervous. The department had a watchlist of hundreds of fringe groups that called themselves Satanists or black magicians. It would be horrifying to find one that had actually found a means to attain massive quantities of power. She sighed. She didn't relish bringing up such a suggestion in her next report to Mr. Ringwall. He was having enough difficulty accepting the notion that magic or other inexplicable causes were actually to blame. Her reports were probably the talk of Whitehall right now.

Colored spots and lasers arced over and around the stage, creating patterns of light and shadow through which Fee and Michael moved as though they were the Fair Folk dancing in the woods. The lighting effects that had been arranged to take the place of the pyrotechnics looked amazingly good considering Liz knew they had been put together in haste. Michael slipped past them, his long black hair plastered to his head. Time for his first costume change. Fionna, accompanied by the traditional Irish instruments and the backup guitarists, was giving the audience a ballad of frustrated love. Her voice soared to the dome.

Liz touched Boo-Boo on the arm. When she caught his eye, she tilted her head toward backstage. He nodded. She wanted to check around. He crossed his arms, and continued a dispassionate scanning of the stage and the audience.

Liz moved into the dark space. The stagehands were busy with a piece of the set, a tiered dais that went in the middle of the stage for one of the numbers. Hugh Banks was still there, shouting into his headset mike, but now he was red-faced with frustration. Something was not going well.

Michael shot back through the tunnel, now clad in black leather pants and gleaming black silk shirt, hair flowing and dry again. He clapped Liz on the shoulder with an encouraging pat. The roadie nearest the entrance handed back his guitar. Michael stepped onto the stage. His key light hit him within a few paces, but it was late. Liz winced, knowing how picky the guitarist was about timing.

As soon as he appeared, Fionna backed away from center stage, ready to change into her white silk dress. Her light didn't turn off quickly enough. Fee gave a snort of frustration as she came off stage into the capable hands of Fitz and Laura.

"They love you, me darling," Laura shouted at her. "It's going marvelously." Liz followed them downstairs to the dressing room, where the costume change was accomplished within moments. Fee stood and stared at nothing while they ripped the green silk off and zipped her into the peach-nude sheath. She gulped a tepid mineral water and strode upstairs, fringes flashing in every direction. Her retinue followed in silence, not wanting to break her concentration.

The crowd roared with delight as Fee reappeared, all in white under the lights. She twirled, letting them see the new dress. Did Liz imagine the tiny stumble? That uneasiness Liz had sensed while observing the stage manager continued to build, small mistake piling upon small problem. Liz felt rather than heard when Voe slipped a beat, throwing everyone else off just slightly. Eddie's fingers fumbled a note, flattening a chord. The audience didn't seem to care. The rapport had been established. The magical give-and-take between them and the performers that Liz so loved was beginning. Energy was building like the Pyramids.

"Ready to cue the cascade of rainbow light," Banks said to his headset. "This replaces the Roman candles over the conclusion of this number. Yes, maybe. We'll go to a short instrumental break after this, give Fee a chance to breathe. Somebody make sure she has something to drink on hand when she comes off. God knows she'll need it. She must be sweating buckets. Ready? And... cue!"

In the bar, Robbie was getting nicely suggestible.

"Why, if Fee wasn't in the picture," Ken said, "you could just lift your little finger, and Lloyd would come running right to you." Involuntarily, Robbie's little finger raised itself off the surface of the bar. "Yeah, you could give him a little wink, and the guy would be on his knees." Wink. Ken grinned. He could go on like this all night.

That magical electricity Robbie was generating had aroused Ken's hopes. If his supposition was correct, his idea could fulfill the conditions of his assignment and save his butt.

"Hey," he said casually. "It's seven-thirty. Time for the concert to begin. Boy, if we were back in the Superdome, the first number would be beginning right now. Michael likes everything to start right on the dot."

Robbie seemed to understand some kind of response was called for, and stirred herself out of her drug-and-alcohol-induced haze to make it. "He's very prompt."

"That's right," Ken said. "You'd be heating up your stuff right now, wouldn't you?"

"It's already ready," Robbie said, and giggled at the rhyme. "Already ready. To go. Everything. Lasers. Lights. Rockets."

"Lots of rockets," Ken agreed, keeping his voice low and smooth, like a snake creeping up on an innocent prey. "I know you've got all your cues on computer, but you don't really need the list, do you?"

"I"—hic!—"memorize everything," Robbie said, unsteadily. "Otherwise, I couldn't take my eyes off the screen. Got to do my job. My job!" Tears started leaking from her eyes. "All gone."

"No, baby, no," Ken said lightly, mentally crossing his fingers. "You've still got your job. You've got to do the special effects for the concert. Everybody's counting on you. Look out the window. Down below, there are eighty thousand people in the dark waiting for the show to start. Are you ready? Cue the first effect. Wait for Gary to tell you to go on three, two..."

"No," Robbie interrupted him, growing agitated. "Nigel fired me. He doesn't want me to do it."

"Sure he does, baby."

"No! He threw me out. Hates me. Hates me!" She was crying, digging at her eyes with the side of her fist like a little girl. Her nose turned red.

Ken was keenly aware that the bartender was keeping an eye on them. She had noticed Robbie's distress and was starting to walk toward them with intent. Gulping at the thought of the baseball bat under the bar, he pulled a handful of money out of his pocket and slapped it on the bar. Very gently, he helped Robbie to stand up.

"Let's go for a walk," he suggested. He put his arm around Robbie and helped her off the bar stool. Casually, he strolled with her out into the neon-glazed night, with one final glance over his shoulder to make sure the bartender wasn't picking up the phone to call the police.

"Okay," Ken said, steering her out onto Toulouse. "I know a good place to go."

"Okay," said Robbie, biddably, her sorrows forgotten. The drugs were taking effect at last. Ken held out his free arm and gestured toward the sky.

"Now, the lights are coming up. Michael's already out on the stage with the band. You're sitting behind your console. Your hand moves toward the control board... ."

Upstairs, in the empty press room beside the control room, a finger of green-tinged power crept out of the metal box containing the transmission lines, down the cables snaking from it to the room next door. Everybody in the control room was too busy to notice the tongue of flame dancing along the black cables. It rippled over to the special effects station, which hummed into life.

"Tone down the mikes on Voe's drums, Sheila," Gary Lowe, seated at the lighting station, was saying. He slid several pots and hovered his finger over a button. "We want to hear Dijan's bodhran here. Bring up Carl's harp. Lovely. And... cue the cascade."

The green fire blazed into life. The readout on the laptop computer beside the special effects station began to scroll down its long list.

Liz squirmed back into her place next to Boo-Boo. The American seemed troubled.

"Do you hear that?" he asked, pointing vaguely up toward the ceiling. "It ain't exactly music."

Liz listened intently. A chord had added itself to the topmost registers of the music, a disturbing harmonic that set her teeth on edge. Fee and Michael both heard it, glanced at each other, wondering what it was. Michael gestured at the techies with a flattening hand, ordering them to do something about it. They all shrugged. Alarmed, both singers glanced backward to where Liz and Boo were concealed. Boo-Boo waved his hand, showing them there was nothing to worry about.

"What is it?"

"Dunno. Bad mojo on the way. Any minute now, I'm guessin'."

"Then why did you tell them to go on?"

Boo-Boo's blue eyes glinted at her. "It'd be worse if they stop."

Hastily, Liz started chanting the protection cantrip over and over. She hadn't begun a moment too soon. The cascade of colored lights had just ended, changing Fionna's white dress to every color of the rainbow. Without warning, there was an explosion at the south end of the stage. Brilliant pillars of white and gold roared up practically under Fionna's nose. The Roman candles were launching! With shrill whistles, fingers of flame shot up halfway to the ceiling. They burst into sparks that showered down on the wildly yelling crowd. Tiny red embers fell over Fionna's head, but bounced harmlessly off the bubble provided by the spell.

No one noticed the effect but Lloyd, who glanced toward the agents and gave them a surreptitious thumbs-up. He approved.

Fee looked nervous for a moment, then took the reappearance of the pyrotechnics in her stride. She stretched out an arm toward the fire as though she was invoking power from it. As the rockets launched, she matched them scream for scream. The crowd loved it.

"I thought they were doing this without effects," Liz said, watching the rockets zip around the huge arena. Mentally, she ticked off the sequence of events as they each appeared on schedule: rockets, lasers, smoke, more lasers, light show. It was as though Robbie had never left.

"Maybe the guys found another special effects technician here in town," Laura Manning speculated, huddling in behind them to watch Fionna dance. "After all, she left her cue sheet program and all the equipment. Good thing, too. Gary Lowe's had just one headache after another. It's bad enough that the lighting director took off, too."

"What?" the agents asked in unison, turning toward her.

The makeup artist looked from one surprised face to the other.

"Nigel didn't tell you? Yeah, right after he canned Robbie Unterburger, Kenny Lewis disappeared. Went out to make a phone call, Sheila said, and has never been seen again. I thought he had feelings for Robbie, but she couldn't see he was alive with the eye magnet over there," Laura nodded in Lloyd's direction. "Poor Gary's running the lights himself."

Boo and Liz exchanged glances.

"I thought that young lady wasn't doin' all this on her own," Boo said, his mouth set in a grim line. "It just seemed out of character. Now, him I could believe."

"We'd better check upstairs and make sure," Liz said.

Hugh Banks thought it was an odd question, but he grabbed his headset mike and inquired. His face was troubled when he looked up. "You're right. No one's at Robbie's desk. The whole thing is working by itself. Is it a ghost in the machine?"

"Could she have mechanized it to work off the cues?" Liz asked. "She had everything listed on a laptop computer."

"Possibly, but why didn't she tell us she was doing that?" Banks asked. He turned to the manager, who looked shocked.

"Can they turn it off?" Boo asked. Banks muttered to his microphone again. His usually ruddy face turned pale.

"No."

"It's going by remote control," Liz said, feeling icy fingers gripping her stomach. "She's making it all happen by remote control."

"But nothing bad has happened yet," Nigel Peters said, hopefully.

"I wouldn't take no bets on it stayin' that way," Boo-Boo said. Liz agreed with him. "Can't do anythin' now but stay on guard, and hope we can handle what he throws at us."

Nigel tore at his thin hair. "This is all my fault. I should have kept the silly girl where she was."

"Should we stop the show?" Banks asked. Boo-Boo shook his head.

"Just do your job, and let Ms. Fionna do hers."

The star was responding magnificently to having the fireworks and lasers running, however unexpectedly. Privately, Liz thought she must be vastly relieved. No need to show her bare face, so to speak.

The exciting rock number was ending. After a halt of a few beats, the tempo changed to the challenging rhythm of Green Fire's diatribe against hostile occupation of one country by another. The plaintive wail of the uilleann pipe began to snake in and out of the melody.

The music itself began to sound sinister to Liz. During rehearsal she had put it off to the subject matter of the song. It was a violent protest against partisan hatred, a touchy subject to one of her nationality, yet there was more to it than the theme itself. Something was wrong in the fundamental sound of it. A destructive force seemed to be taking hold within the Superdome, but how was it happening? The girl was not there, had never entered the building at all. Every security guard there had her picture and was on the lookout. Ken Lewis hadn't been seen either. Neither one was on site, yet it was undeniable that the feeling of the concert had changed. No matter how benevolent the meaning of the lyrics, it was being perverted somehow into bad magic. The figure of a rampant lion etched in green lasers leaped up out of the steam and roared at the crowd.

"Cor! Effects are getting better all the time!" Laura Manning said, wonderingly. "I didn't know they could do anything like that."

"They're not," Liz said. Cupping her hands around an imaginary bubble of air, she strengthened the ring of protective energy around Fionna. Who was at that moment launching herself forward, toward the front of the stage, step by step, following the lyrics of the song. Liz felt as though she wanted to race out there and pull her back.

It was too late. One more lunging step, and Fee kept moving, right off the end of the stage. Instead of falling into the crowd, she was hoisted up into the air by invisible hands. Her singing turned into more of a scream than usual. The dangling white fringes of her dress went into frenzied shimmying as Fee kicked at the air. Rockets began to blast off again, practically going up her skirts.

The question of how Roberta Unterburger was doing this, with or without Ken Lewis, would have to wait. Other things, like saving Fionna and the band, were more important. The singer was floating higher and higher, until Liz feared she would crash into the Jumbotron. Four gigantic images of her frantic face were being projected on the screens, thanks to the roving cameras in the crowd.

Liz sent an alarmed glance toward Boo-Boo. She couldn't stop the protection charm. He nodded and stepped forward with his arms outstretched.

"Spirits of the air, release. Let your hold on this one cease," he recited. He tossed out a pinch of the feathers he always carried in his pockets. They were caught up in the maelstrom that engulfed the singer and whisked out of sight in a twinkling. "To earth softly let her feet return..."

"Oh, my God, she'll crash and burn!" Laura Manning cried, wringing her hands.

"Do y'all mind?" Boo-Boo asked mildly, with a look of reproof at the makeup artist. "I'm chantin' here... and let her then in peace sojourn!" Boo-Boo threw a handful of energy up towards Fionna. Sparks engulfed the woman in white and settled around her waist like a celestial belt. The crowd oohed, thinking it was part of the special effects.

"Technically this here spell doesn't work, y'know," Boo said to Liz, hauling an invisible cable down hand over hand. Fionna dropped toward him with a shrill cry that echoed out of every speaker in the hall. Boo resumed pulling, but more gently. "But in point of fact it does, in the hands of real magical folks like ourselves. It's about as close to telekinesis as departmental regulations go. I'll show you how if you like."

"I'd enjoy that," Liz said, watching with admiration. "Can I help?"

"Just hang on in there protectin'," he said.

Liz redoubled her chants. When Fionna looked about frantically for them, Liz caught her eye and mouthed, "Keep singing!" Fionna responded like a champion, putting everything she had into her lyrics. Liz felt a rush of affection for her old school chum. She was showing the stuff St. Hilda's girls were made of.

The pipes hissed, producing a huge cloud of steam. A dragon etched in laser fire stretched up from it and spread gigantic wings that extended beyond the wisps of steam. Uh-oh, thought Liz. The energy here was beginning to take on a life of its own.

The line-drawing dragon nipped at Fionna's heels. Descending toward the floor through Beauray's efforts, she was being drawn right into its jaws, bubble and all. It shot out a line drawing of red fire that licked around her legs, causing the fringe on her dress to singe. She kicked at the dragon. Her foot disrupted some of the lines, kicking up sparks. The dragon roared an angry protest. It leaped up, reared back its head, and closed its jaws around her. The protective shell cast by Liz reacted to the attack, blazing up like a light bulb. The dragon burst noisily into a thousand flecks of fire. Tiny flames hissed down onto the stage. The audience, thinking it was all part of the show, screamed with delight. Liz sighed, relieved. Her spell had held. Fionna was safe. Soon, this would be all over, and the concert could proceed uninterrupted.

Fionna kept singing gamely while Beauray continued to haul her down from the air. When she was only a few feet from the floor, there came an audible snap! Fee squawked as the invisible cord broke. She shot up, stopping herself from banging into the Jumbotron with her outstretched hands.

"For pity's sake," she shouted, shoving herself away from the multiple grimacing images of herself and the band. "Get me down from here! I'm not a bleedin' kite!"

"Well, I'll be," said Boo, shaking his head. "It's not strong enough. Whatever that Robbie is pumpin', it is some powerful mojo."

"Do somethin', you sufferin' fools!" Fionna shouted, her accent thickening. "I can't do me dance steps up here!"

The band stopped playing to stare at their lead singer hovering over their heads. When the music died away, the crowd let out cries of protest. In the upper stands a few people started to chant.

"No! No! No! No!"

"Oh, no, we can't have that," Liz said in alarm. "They'll start a riot." She leaned out of the shelter of the speakers, heedless of whether the audience could see her. "Start playing!" she ordered the band. Voe and Eddie looked at each other uncertainly, but Michael strode forward into the center of the round stage, and struck a forceful chord on his guitar.

Bless him, Liz thought.

Automatically, the other musicians followed suit and began to play. Fionna, still hovering above them, started singing again. As the positive side of the energy began to reassert itself, Fionna dropped slightly, lowering to within twenty feet of the stage. The audience, or most of it, cheered.

Not all the protesters stopped complaining. In the area around the apron of the stage, some of the fans began to fight. A skinny man in a T-shirt yelled as he was hoisted up and tossed onto a crowd of bystanders. They threw him off and went to beat up the people who had flung him at them. Up in the stands, more fights were breaking out.

Fed by the anger building in the arena, monsters leaped forth from the steam pipes. Each new creation was larger and more fearsome-looking than before. Each pulled angrily at its roots, achieving a little more distance from the curtain of vapor. It looked like soon they would be able to sustain their reality without touching it. The crowd's own energy was making the threat worse. These new creatures were drawn in multiple colors, disgusting hues of sickly green, blood red, decay brown. Fans near the stage retreated, shrieking, as the beasts struck out at them. The creatures were still insubstantial, but that could change any moment.

"What's going on?" Lloyd demanded, appearing at their shoulder. "Make it stop! Get her down from there!"

"We are trying to," Liz said. "Robbie is employing an astonishing amount of psychic energy."

"What? I thought she couldn't do anything if she wasn't here."

"Somehow they're using a kind of remote control," Boo-Boo said, regarding the security man with reproachful eyes.

"Man!" Lloyd said, crushing his huge hands together. "If I'd known that foolish little bird was capable of causing trouble like this... !"

"She's not to blame, Lloyd." Liz took a chance using his first name, since he'd never given them permission. "She's being used. Ken Lewis is behind this."

That put an entirely different complexion on the situation. Lloyd's face darkened with angry blood.

"I'd strangle that bloke if I had him here. Have you called the cops?"

"And tell them what?" Liz asked, reasonably.

"Dammit," Lloyd raged. "Do something! Fee's afraid of heights!"

He stormed off to his post and began to talk into his cell phone. Liz understood his frustration. She felt it herself.

"Try something else to get Fionna down," she asked Boo. "In the meantime, I'll try to put a lid on this outburst."

Everyone was getting too excited. The protection spell would have to look after itself for the moment.

Calm, she thought, opening her arms wide and leaning back with her eyes closed. Summoning the first lessons she'd learned in the use of power, she called upon the element of Earth to spread out among the crowd. Calm. Serenity. Pleasure. She felt herself floating above all the people, settling down like a hen on the world's largest nestful of eggs. Everyone must calm down. This kind of outburst was unseemly even for a rock concert. Everyone had to get hold of their emotions and calm down. We are not barbarians here. We are adults at a public entertainment.

It was no easy thing soothing 80,000 people. She tapped all the way down into the bottom of her reservoir of magic to touch the outermost rows of the audience. It was a technique she'd learned from her old grandmother, to scotch negativism at its source by appealing to the need for order within, something within each human being. She urged her mood of calm on the thousands of people, chivvying them to release their harmful emotions in a positive way. For just a moment, everybody's shoulders heaved up, then relaxed as they let out a huge, collective sigh.

As if to field-test her enchantment, a new laser-born monster, more horrible than before, with glowing red eyes and huge tusks rose up out of the steam pipes, its claws reaching for fans in the first sixteen rows. Liz was rewarded when, instead of screaming in fear, the audience erupted with glee at the exquisite complexity of the special effects, applauded appreciatively, then settled down into a quieter enjoyment of the music.

"Good God," said Boo-Boo. "Some of 'em are even foldin' their hands."

"I had some good training," Liz said, with satisfaction, "as a room monitor at a girl's school."

"That's mighty impressive," Boo admitted. "But they're tied to your emotional state now. If you get frightened or excited, sure enough, the crowd will do the same. We'd have a bloodbath."

Liz shook her head. "I am capable of retaining my cool," she said. "I am an Englishwoman."

She viewed the scene with deliberate detachment. The visions in the laser works had ceased to be bloodthirsty monsters with scales and huge fangs. Instead, green-edged horses, rabbits and other natural animals sprang about on the misty gray wall, as though the programmer had tapped into a benevolent nature show. Dragons appeared, too, but they were friendly dragons, with softer muzzles and not so many spines on their tails. The crowd reacted with polite applause and shouts of "Hurray!"

"Ain't that a little bit of overkill?" Boo-Boo asked, beginning to ready his next incantation.

Liz shook her head. "I've only grabbed hold of the edge of this blanket of energy. It could still explode into..."

"Explode" was the operative word for what came next. From the frameworks on either side of the stage that held the Roman candles, huge cylinders launched toward the ceiling. Popping in time with the music, they burst overhead into stars of color that filled the whole room. The crowd burst out in cheers of delight. Clouds of gold spangles expanded under the light plastic ceiling like dandelions opening on time-lapse photography. Fionna dodged this way and that, trying to avoid the onslaught. Liz stopped meditating on peace to renew her protection spell around her old school friend. The sparks might scare her now, but they couldn't hurt her.

"I don't remember seeing this kind of sophisticated fireworks on Robbie's list," she said, puzzled. "It looks like Guy Fawkes Day up there."

"Y'mean like the Fourth of July," Boo-Boo corrected her. "You're in the U.S. of A. right now, ma'am."

"Don't argue," Liz gritted through clenched teeth. The crowd was loving what they saw as unique special effects, but they were getting more excited the longer the display went on. Fights were breaking out again, and she heard some angry shouts. "The power is growing. Help me dampen it down."

Her American counterpart was already chanting. A feedback loop of some kind was at work here in the arena, transforming the positive energy flowing out from the fans into negative power. That influence had to be coming into the building from somewhere or someone. She wished she could pull away to search for the source, but that was impossible. Until the concert ended, she had to maintain her post and keep the audience in order. If she left now, noisy chaos would follow within moments. It wouldn't matter if she found what she was looking for, apprehended the perpetrators, and managed to solve the mystery that had led across two continents and at least three countries. She'd be too busy explaining to HQ why she allowed a riot to begin when she could have stopped it.

Calm, she instructed herself. Mustn't let maybes and coulds interfere with the here and now. Most of the audience was responding well to her determined serenity.

But such high-minded platitudes didn't help when the level of power was rising higher all the time. Liz threw her entire soul into keeping the peace. The laser pictures displayed a placid beauty now. Landscapes. Waterfalls. Eagles soaring above the clouds. A dove with a budding branch in its beak. Perhaps, Liz was forced to admit, not a perfect fit with the wild, acid-rock song Fionna and the others were performing. She heard some unhappy voices not far away to her left, criticizing the mix. Liz worried that someone might begin to panic and set the whole thing off all over again. Her shoulders sagged. She was getting very tired.

Beauray moved behind her and put his hands over the hollows just underneath her collarbone. Before she could ask what he was doing, she felt a rush of energy flow through her. He was very good at multitasking, being able to continue his own spell-working and at the same time feeding her more Earth power. Liz perked up as she felt her psychic batteries recharging. And only just in time. More fireworks filled the air, exploding in multiple colors. The next boom! shook the building. She sent out a burst that pacified the pockets of unrest beginning to break out in the east quadrant. The audience let out a collective "Ahh" of pleasure.

Nigel wailed behind them. "But we don't have any chrysanthemum skyrockets! The fire marshall wouldn't approve them! Or those spinning Catherine wheels! Where are they coming from?"

It was just bad luck that Michael was passing close enough to the rear speakers for Nigel's frantic voice to be picked up on his guitar mike and carried throughout the auditorium speakers. The band paused for half a beat, not knowing what to do. The audience heard and felt the hesitation, and shuffled uncomfortably. The rowdy ones picked up on the uncertainty, threatening to start rioting again. Liz felt control slip. She dug deep into the new power reserves, refreshing the protection spell around Fionna and keeping the peace.

On stage, Michael gave the musicians a stern look. They were to carry on and pretend nothing was wrong. Even though their lead singer was hanging in midair kicking like a hooked salmon. Even though they were surrounded by rockets as though they were on a battlefield under attack. The Guitarchangel whipped the band into a musical frenzy, using gestures and shouts. He strode around the stage, urging the audience to clap along with the beat.

As he passed Liz his next circuit around, he hissed, "Do something!"

"We're trying!" she growled back, frustrated, not wanting to interrupt her multiple chants for long.

Boo's cell phone rang, somewhere deep in his pockets. Liz shot him an exasperated look.

"You'd better answer it," she shouted. Boo scrabbled for the little box. He popped it open.

"This is Tiger," the tinny voice in his ear said. "I think I've seen your lady, man. She walked by with some guy a little while ago. I couldn't get to the phone until now."

"Which way they goin'?"

"Toward Decatur."

Boo reached into Liz's shoulder bag and felt for the little cell phone. He turned it on and tucked it into her neck.

"I know where she's gone," he shouted. "Keep things together here."

Leaving Liz chanting, Boo-Boo trotted out of the Superdome arena, out the back door onto Giraud Street.

A taxi swung into the curb at his wave. Boo-Boo clambered into the back seat. The young black man behind the wheel twisted around to exchange hand slaps with him.

"Hey, Boo-Boo, where y'at? Where you want to go?"

"The Quarter," Boo-Boo said, settling back against the seat. "Run the lights. I'll make it right later."