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.