Fee was sweet and reasonable but stretched to the breaking point with everyone except the special effects coordinator, for whom Fee wouldn't soften under any circumstances. The star swiveled back again to glare at Robbie. “That is, if you can manage to do your job when it really matters.”
“I know every cue in the concert,” Robbie said, who had been pushed all the way through fright to defiance. Her voice shook, but she stood her ground. “I know them forwards and backwards.”
“Yes, and so you've been telling me,” Fionna said dismissively, lifting a hand to study the green polish on her nails. Robbie's complexion went from red to purple. It was an ugly contrast. “Too bad you've decided to do them backwards.”
“I'm sorry I've been messing up. I'll make it right.”
“You bloody well better!” Fionna said, dropping her hands onto the back of the other woman's chair and glaring at her. “Your job is to add to the spectacle, not be one. When you foul up you call attention to yourself. If that's what you want to do, join the circus. I hear they're always lookin' for another clown.”
Robbie gasped. She looked around at the others watching her, hoping for a kind face. Her eyes brimming with hope, she met Lloyd's gaze. He locked eyes with her, but kept his face carefully expressionless. Liz could tell he didn't want to be part of this argument. No one sane would have. Robbie appealed silently to him, brows lifted.
“And you keep off Lloyd,” Fee added, not missing a thing. She interposed herself between the special effects engineer and her bodyguard. “He's here for me, not you.”
That shot hit home. Robbie's face flushed even redder. The girl seemed really to have thought no one else had noticed. Liz felt very sorry for her.
“We get along,” she said stoutly. “It's not against the law for him to be nice to me.”
“So you don't deny you've been trying to steal him!”
Robbie saw the trap, but much too late. It was unwise of her to attempt to justify her feelings. If she'd been smart, she wouldn't have admitted to them at all. It gave Fionna another grievance she could level. Robbie shot out of her seat, standing as tall as she was able, but her voice betrayed how flustered she was.
“You're wrong! I don't have to steal him. I mean, I'm not trying to . . . There's nothing you can do if there's feelings involved! He only works for you. It's a financial arrangement. Not like . . .”
“You're trying to make out that there's more going on than there is, you silly creature,” Fionna said, almost pityingly. “That in a minute I'm going to turn me back, and he's going to sweep you off your feet like Prince Charming and ride away in a Lear jet, leaving me to weep. Well, you're not a princess, missie. Nothing like.”
“No! If anyone's the princess around here, it's you!” Robbie shouted. “You waltz around like the high priestess of something, but you jump if a shadow crosses your path. I'm trying to do my job!”
“You are trying?” Fionna exclaimed, her eyes widening as her brogue thickened. “You can't stay on cue! Your job is almost totally mechanized and you still screw it up! This is the dress rehearsal, damn yer sorry arse!” She flung a hand at the girl. “To hell with you. Those thousands of people are coming to hear my voice. Yer window dressin'. We'll do it without effects if we have to!”
Turning like a model on the runway, Fionna stalked magnificently out of the room, followed by Lloyd. Nigel offered an apologetic glance to the crew, but he couldn't look at Robbie.
With the agents and her bodyguard on her heels, Fionna strode back down the ramps to the arena door where the rest of the company was waiting for her. Their astonished expressions told her they had heard every word. The PA system had been switched on in the booth.
“Let's try it again,” she said, calmly. She smiled at them, serene again but very, very firm. “Once, all the way through, no stops. All right?”
Everyone rushed to their places, unwilling to be the next to receive Fee's own brand of personal attention.
Liz shot a glance at Boo-Boo. His wary expression told her he felt the same magical buildup that she did. The pent-up energy that had been pressing at the edges of her magical conscious was reaching an overload. It could burst out at any moment.
She had no idea it would strike so soon. Fionna had no sooner stomped back onto the round stage when an explosion overhead made everyone's heart stop. The crew and band ran for cover, but they were in no danger from the debris. The snowstorm of colored dots fell in heaps directly on the cowering figure of Fionna. She shrieked and batted at the rain of trash.
“Who put confetti up there?” Hugh Banks demanded. “This isn't a parade!”
It wasn't confetti. The gigantic poster of Green Fire attached to one side of the Jumbotron had shredded itself into tiny bits. The huge faces on the three remaining posters seemed to mock the crew.
“Ah, no,” the stage manager moaned, clutching his head. “It must be the one near the light that burned out!”
The falling flakes of paper whirled and twinkled under the beams of the intact spots. Liz was about to thank heaven that this wasn't another fire attack, when suddenly the ruins of the poster burst into flames. Fionna screamed, but stood helpless in the middle of the rising fire, like St. Joan at the stake.
“Somebody do something!” she cried.
This time, Boo-Boo was ready. He leaped forward, hands moving in a blur, and lobbed a handful of blue powder in the direction of the stage, chanting all the while. Between one shrill outburst and another, the powder spread out into a cloud that momentarily hid the star from view. The mass settled a moment later, revealing Fionna standing with her arms flung up to protect her face. The colored dots lay in half-singed piles around her feet. Her second cry for help died away as she stared around her. Lloyd shoved his way through the crowd and looked her over carefully. Then he took her into his arms. Fionna collapsed against him limply. She was too astonished to speak. Thomas Fitzgibbon broke the silence.
“This wasn't . . . this wasn't the lasers this time, was it?”
“What the hell did you do?” Michael Scott demanded, rounding on Boo-Boo and Liz, as Nigel Peters and Hugh Banks began shouting at everyone else to clear the stage. The stagehands swooped in with brooms.
“Just fire control,” Boo-Boo said. “Government issue.” He showed the packet, which featured the eagle of the United States holding a fire extinguisher in each outstretched claw.
“That wasn't just a chemical reaction,” the guitarist said, with a wary eye. “What are you?”
“Government agent,” Boo-Boo said simply, producing his ID. “It's not over yet, sir. Let's all just remain calm.” But Michael and the others were anything but calm.
“I want to know what is going on!” the guitarist demanded. “Are you responsible for these outbursts?”
“I'm sorry, sir,” Liz said, in an even voice. “I'm afraid we can't discuss details . . .”
“Don't `sir' me,” Michael said, raising his eyebrows alarmingly. “You've been underfoot for two days. I've heard Fionna's complaints for the last months now. We've all heard them. The things that are happening to her are real, aren't they?”
Liz was saved having to reply by Fionna herself. With a wild scream, Fee started turning around and around, slowly at first, but faster and faster until the white fringes on her dress stood straight out.
“Now, don't play around, love,” Lloyd said.
“She's not doing it, Mr. Preston,” Liz said, removing a white silk cloth from her handbag. “Look at her feet.” They weren't moving. Fee appeared to be spinning on her own axis with no visible means of propulsion.
“Fee, honey, don't make a fool of yourself,” Lloyd said. He put his arms around her to stop her, and got taken up in the vortex. “Hey!” He whirled around and around until his feet lifted off the floor. Fionna was going too fast for him to hang on. With a yell, the burly security man went flying. He landed several yards away, rolling over and over, missing Eddie Vincent's precious keyboards by a foot. Lloyd lay on his back
, shaking his head to clear it. Liz clicked her tongue. Too impetuous. That was no way to pull her out of a spin.
Liz held out the white cloth in the air by its center, and began to chant, drawing power from the earth as she went. It would take a lot of Earth power to take Fee away from the Air element that had claimed her. With a swift glance at the people around her, she lowered her voice to a mutter for the last words of the spell. With the final word, she dropped the cloth to the ground. Fee stopped spinning so suddenly she staggered.
“Thank heavens,” Fionna said, swallowing. “Now, I—”
But whatever had Fee in its grasp was not through with her yet. The spinning began again, faster than before. Alarmed, Liz picked up the cloth and dropped it again and again. No response. Fionna became a green and white blur that lifted into the air. In a moment she'd bump into the Jumbotron. The enormous magical power building in the Superdome was not to be quelled by a simple dampening spell.
The band and crew were taken completely by surprise. Even the imperturbable Michael stood gawking up at Fionna with his mouth hanging open. Even as she worked to quell it, Liz was dismayed. Spinning she could explain away. An exploding poster turning into party favors could be put down to natural causes. Even it bursting into flames had the potential to be excused under the circumstances. The manifestation of a flying dervish appearing in a public location was going to be much harder to excuse as not being supernatural.
Liz thought for a moment of making everyone clear the building. Unless they did, their secret was out. She and Beauray would have to employ their government-issue spell paraphernalia in full view of the public. But she mustn't wait. One look at Fionna's nauseous face told her that in a moment the star was going to be very sick, and she'd never forgive Liz if she spewed her guts out in front of a crowd of dozens. The agents couldn't wait, either. The huge reserve of power growing almost directly under their feet threatened to blow, and Fionna herself had lit the match.
Telling herself it couldn't be helped, Liz scrabbled deep in her bag for components to cast the biggest dissipation spell she had at her disposal. Clear the air, and perhaps they could get to the bottom of this whole disturbance. There was the candle and the lighter. Good. The incense was in a secret compartment of her powder compact, hidden from the view of casual observers. Where was the athame? Oh, why did just the thing one needed most always end up in the remotest corner of one's handbag? A sharp point pricked her finger. Ah, there it was. Heedless of the pain, Liz pulled out the pink aluminum knitting needle that served her as a working tool for invocation and dissipation. A standard athame was forbidden on commercial aircraft and tended to excite commentary on London streets. The needle was a reasonably good substitute. No one ever said boo to a knitter.
“Mr. Ringwall isn't going to like this,” she said. Peevishly she thrust the candle at Boo-Boo, lit the wick and handed him a pinch of incense.
“My superiors won't like it much, either,” Boo-Boo admitted. “But only if we don't succeed. It can't be helped. Ms. Fionna's goin' to rise right through the roof in a moment. C'mon, positive attitude, Liz!”
“It's all very well for you to say so,” Liz grumbled. “You Americans like the spotlight.” Liz held the knitting needle over her head in casting position, pointed toward Fionna. She hesitated, conscious of every eye on her. Chin up, Mayfield, she told herself. No time for stage fright. Straightening her back, she began the incantation.
“I call the whirling winds to cease, depart from her, from us, in peace,” Liz said, putting as much force into her words as she could. Boo-Boo held up the candle. The wind whipping Fionna around flattened the flame, threatening to extinguish it. He shielded it with his hand while trying to keep the pinch of incense between his fingers from igniting too soon. “To calm the raging winds that spin . . . oh, drat, I can't think of the next line!”
“Go out from here as you came in.” Boo really did know her grimoire, Liz realized. The Yanks certainly had their sources in her department.
Together they chanted the old spell. Liz tossed the incense into the flame, and put every erg of Earth power she had into concentrating on bringing Fee down.
With a whoosh! a cloud issued forth from the flame, enveloping the stage, people and all. She could feel Boo's influence alongside hers, aiding and strengthening. He really did know his stuff. Whatever they were fighting was stronger than she could have taken on alone. Melding their talents, they had enough power to do what had to be done.
Liz hoped the non-initiates hadn't heard precisely what they were saying. She'd have to put a forgetting on them later. It was a harmless technique that worked very specifically on the memory of words in certain combinations. A technique that OOPSI had originated that would be of great use to MI-5 and MI-6, except that they didn't believe in it. OOPSI barely believed in it themselves. On the other hand, a trained magical technician would be required, and one might not always be available in those pinches. Liz had seen the budget, and knew there was no funding for training.
Fionna sank toward the floor. The spin slowed gradually until when her feet touched down she was facing the agents. Lloyd was there to catch her. He held her tight.
Liz glanced at the half-burned trash around their feet. There was some power left over after casting the spell, power that ought to be used up before it joined the well of fierce magic that underlay everything here. She muttered a cleaning cantrip that gathered all the papers together in a tidy heap on the side of the stage. So she might get in trouble with the unions. It was a small price to pay.
Lloyd came toward them, white-faced, clutching Fee around her waist.
“I've never seen anything like that in my life. You . . . she . . . you . . . I don't even know what happened!”
“We helped,” Liz said simply. “That's our job.”
“I didn't know the government could do anything like that!” he exclaimed. “I apologize for having doubted. I didn't know!”
“Quite all right,” Liz said. “I hope you'll continue to accept our assistance.”
“In a minute! Cor, with you there's nothing that can touch her!”
Liz smiled. She liked the newly-cooperative Lloyd. He was a professional, after all, and his main job was to keep Fee safe. It had to be frustrating to him that he couldn't. He was genuinely glad to discover that Liz and Boo-Boo would be of some use after all.
Liz had been so intent on her work that she never thought what would be the immediate reaction from the rest of Fee's people. She glanced around. Everyone seemed frozen in place, staring at Fionna and the heap of confetti. As her eye fell on a handful of the roadies, they flinched and started running for the door. Liz sighed.
The drummer came up to them with his eyes wide.
“That was awesome, man,” Voe said, impressed, “but your lyrics suck!”
“We've got to follow it just the way we learned it,” Boo-Boo said, apologetically.
“Bummer.”
The others ranged from fearful to openly admiring. Liz was pleased and embarrassed by the fact that the Guitarchangel was one of the latter. He wanted to know all about it.
“Would you like to sit down some time and have a talk?” he asked eagerly. “About the parts you can talk about, that is.” From his careful phrasing Liz understood that he did know something about real magic. He regarded her with shining eyes.
“I would love to,” she said, feeling as though she could purr, in spite of the danger of the situation, “but right now we must concentrate on Fionna. Now that we know who is at the bottom of these attacks, I think we can work with her and solve the problem.”
“Who?” Fionna demanded.
“It's Ms. Robbie,” Boo-Boo said. “She's the source of the disruption. She doesn't mean to be, but she is. Liz and I intend to go up and have a little talk with her.”
“That bitch?” Nigel Peters asked, in surprise, walking up onto the stage. “I fired her.”
Liz and Boo-Boo shared a brief, horrified glance. “That was not a go
od idea,” Boo-Boo said. The two agents hurried out, heading for the control room.
Nigel Peters looked around at the circle of shocked faces, then at the ruin of the burned poster on the ground. “Say, what just went on down here?”
* * *
“What happened?” Nigel asked, jogging to keep up with the two agents.
“You must be the only one who didn't see it,” Boo-Boo said, over his shoulder, his pleasant face perfectly serious for once. “In a way, you're the one who lit the match. Y'all have just been treated to an exhibition of a sorta grownup poltergeist. Ms. Robbie's too afraid of Ms. Fionna to snap back at her in person the way she'd like to, so she's been manifesting it in a different way.”
“Let's just hope she won't go up like a rocket now that there's nothing left for her to lose,” Liz said. Fear was closing in like a cold hand clenching her stomach.
Her dread was justified. The special effects station was empty.
“Where is she?” Liz asked. The technical director, Gary Lowe, had half a dozen people with clipboards around him. He glanced up, then back at his notes. He had to try to rearrange the show without special effects, with only three hours to go.
Sheila Parker detached herself from the group to come over to them, looking apologetic for her previous smirk.
“Gone,” Sheila said.
“When?” Liz demanded.
“Almost right away. After Fionna left, Nigel stayed here,” she said, with a guilty glance at the manager. “He pulled Robbie over into a corner so the rest of us couldn't hear, but we all knew what was coming. She was pale as a ghost. The conversation started out quiet, anyhow. Then the two of them started screaming at each other. Gary said something like, hey look down there! We all started watching the stuff going on on stage. I kind of got distracted,” Sheila added, embarrassed, “but I heard Nigel say, you're fired. Robbie was crying. As soon as he stamped out of here, she took off. Was any of that stuff real?” Sheila asked, with interest, looking from her to Boo-Boo. “We were trying to guess how it was done. It was really cool.”
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