Fionna's dressing room was
the largest and best appointed of the suite in the basement of the Superdome. The
concrete floor had been carpeted over with a rich green plush, a compliment to her band
and her hair. Instead of the acid fluorescent lights, she had floor lamps with restful
low-watt bulbs. The singer herself was enthroned in a plush armchair with Laura Manning
on one side and Nigel Peters on the other offering her drinks and cigarettes. Someone had
unpacked Fionna's possessions and arranged them around the room. Costumes of garish silks
or black lace and tulle hung along the walls. The lighted mirror in the wall over the
dressing table was supplemented by a double-ended magnifying mirror and a folding mirror,
plus enough amulets arrayed along the rear of the table to open a shop. A couple of them
did have the sniff of magic about them. They glowed feebly, to Liz's experienced eye,
like a child's nightlights.
an audience with Her Majesty was a plump man with a dapper summer-weight jacket slung
over his shoulder by one finger.
there you are at last!" Fionna carolled. Her voice was a relaxed trill. The promised
whiskey had obviously met a few friends on its way down her throat. "Meet Mr. Lemon. He's
a true darling."
management, ma'am, er... sir," the man in the white suit said, turning to offer a hand.
"When I heard about this... regrettable accident I just had to come down and offer my
support. Are you... with the show?" he asked, looking Boo-Boo's attire up and
"Nossir," Boo said. "I'm with
the Department." He patted down several of his tattered pockets and came up with a shiny
leather billfold. He flipped it open. "My credentials,
Lemon's eyes widened as he
examined the card and badge. "I see. I'm glad to see Miss Fionna has some... strong
protectors. The fire marshall is upstairs now. They had to break in through the front
doors, which will be replaced this afternoon, Mr. Peters," Lemon added, turning an eye to
look over his shoulder.
"I'm glad to
hear it," Peters said. "My people will offer every
"Was there anyone
strange in the building when the dress caught fire?" Boo-Boo asked the
"God only knows. This place
is the size of a palace, but everything was locked up. The rear doors were locked from
the outside only. We had a grip stationed there to let our people in, but no one else. I
suppose someone could have slipped in, and planted a
"Which your Mr.
Fitzgibbons... didn't see," Lemon pointed out. Peters looked
came from a distance, then?" Peters asked, uncomfortably. "Something was shot at him?"
Fionna sat bolt upright in her chair with her lips pressed together. Liz wondered what
Boo was thinking, but he gestured to her not to speak. He looked amiably at the building
"Well, no. All that flash
powder hovering in the air, and those laser lights, there could have been a little
"Good!" Lemon exclaimed,
then looked guilty. "That's good, isn't
"Well, apart from Mr. Fitzgibbons
having to make another dress."
Manning waved the idea away. "Oh, don't worry about Tommy. He's probably in there at this
moment inventing a new confection in silk and lace. He lives to suffer. Ask him. Why,
he's even accused me of ruining his dresses with my nasty foundations and rouges.
Greasepaint isn't up in that lofty sphere with haute couture."
"Excuse me, Mr. Lemon?" A man in
firefighter's rig with a clipboard appeared at the door. "Fire marshall. Everything seems
to be under control. The building's all right. The crews are withdrawing. You've got a
mess up there, Mr. Lemon. Sorry about that,
Lemon was gracious. "You're
doing your very worthy job, Marshall. My thanks. My maintenance people... will already be
on the job, Miss Fionna." He offered her a courtly little
In sharp contrast to the courtesy
of the building manager, Lloyd Preston pushed his way in, a scowl on his face. He stood
over Fionna, who reached out a thin and, Liz thought, dramatically trembling hand to him.
"Everything's okay. We can get right back to
"But," Liz began to protest.
Everyone in the room turned to look at
"But what?" Lloyd demanded.
Fionna sat bolt upright in her armchair, ready to flee the scene at the sound of a
"But," Boo said, loudly,
drowning her out, "we'll be keeping an eye on things." He nodded knowingly to Fionna, who
shot them a look of relief. "We'll get right on it." He took Liz's arm and hustled her
out of the dressing room.
Liz pulled Boo to a halt
just outside the door.
"What was all
that about?" she demanded, in a fierce whisper. "Don't you want to keep the place under
lock and key until we can have a thorough look around? This place is the size of a
"There's no time," Boo said.
"We don't want them cancelling the concert, which they will if they think there's some
kind of assassin out there."
may be an assassin out there!"
"I know," Boo said, apologetically,
"but it's the concert itself that'll bring him out in the open. If y'all whisk Miss
Fionna away to the next stop on the tour, or cancel it altogether, it'll just start over
again, and we'll never get a handle on it."
Liz followed Boo into the
boxes surrounding the stage. The two of them split up and went in opposite
The tiers of seats were
raked steeply and the space between them was alarmingly narrow. Liz hated to admit it,
but she was afraid of heights. Her heart pounded every time she stumbled, grabbing for
the metal railing to keep herself from plummeting down the concrete stairs. There was no
way for her to watch what was going on down on stage and walk at the same time. If she
was to concentrate on magic-sniffing, it was better for her acrophobia not to be able to
see how far up they were. She kept her gaze on the few feet of floor immediately in front
of her, and listened.
She began to
understand why Green Fire had chosen the Superdome as a concert venue. The acoustics were
surprisingly good. Voices carried well into the bleachers from the stage. Over the racket
created by grips dragging equipment to its places, the tuning of instruments, and the
pounding of feet on the hollow platform, Liz eavesdropped on the crew and the band. They
all sounded impatient and resentful of the long interruption of their jobs.
"...my opinion, Fitz won't admit he
had a cigarette in his hand under..." a deep male voice rose out of the hubbub. "...set
fire to it himself and...."
goes up in a puff..." another man's voice
"...filmy sleeves..." one of
the stagehands drawled,
"...really an attack on
Fee?" piped a woman's voice. Liz recognized Laura
"No!" "Maybe." "Yes, and by
whom?" echoed around the
"...one of us?" asked Lockney's
"No!" came the immediate
protest, but other voices chimed in. "Maybe." "Could be."
"Who knows?" Michael Scott's
clear voice cut above the noise. "Let's get this
Who indeed? Liz wondered, as
she reached the end of the tier. She had not sensed any magical evidence whatsoever in
the circuit. She glanced across the open arena at the sea of multi-colored seats, but she
couldn't see Boo Boo. If it wasn't an accident, perhaps the prank was the work of an
earthbound stalker trying to make Fionna's life miserable. In that eventuality Liz would
have to turn the case over to the American FBI. Ringwall wouldn't like that, but he'd be
relieved. Anything that smelled of the mystical worried the ministry. On the whole he
would be happier if Liz could prove a negative instead of a positive. You open the
floodgates, she thought wryly, and that let in all the bogies down the coal cellar, the
walking ghosts, and before you know it Panorama and 60 Minutes are doing a
special on you.
A darkskinned man in a
plain gray guard's uniform sprang up out of nowhere in front of her. Liz jumped in
surprise and clutched for a
"Can I help you, ma'am?" he
asked, his warm brown eyes serene but watchful. The temples of his black, curly hair were
a distinguished gray. Liz showed him her credentials, which he examined with raised
eyebrows. "Well, isn't that interesting. Welcome to America,
"How is it going, Captain
Evers?" Liz asked, reading his name
"Under control, ma'am," the man
said, taking a side glance down at the stage area. "We're clearing out the rest of the
city folks. Pretty soon it'll just be us chickens in here. There's no damage we can find,
no signs of a break-in. I guess they were right about that flash powder causing the fire
in the first place..."
Liz found she
was only half-listening to him. She was aware of a looming presence overhead, like a
storm cloud. She glanced up at the large, square box hovering over the stage, a huge cube
covered with lights, screens and
"What is that?" she
asked, cutting Evers off in the middle of his explanation. His eyes followed hers
"Oh, that's the Jumbotron,
"She raises and lowers down so
you can watch the screens. They use her all the time during concerts and games, to show
the scores, instant replays and so
"Good heavens," Liz said, gawking
at its size. "What does that thing
"Seventy-two tons, ma'am."
Evers sounded proud.
"Could it be detached?" she asked. "Is there any possible chance it could come down on
Captain Evers looked very
worried until Boo leaned around from behind her. "She's with me,
The dark-skinned man's lined
face relaxed into a wide
"Boo-Boo, is that you?" Evers
asked. He rocked back on his heels, and stuck out his hands to clasp the American
agent's. "You young rascal, how you
"Not as good as you look, old
man," Boo said, grinning back. "Now, tell the lady what she wants to
Evers turned to Liz with an air
"Well, no, ma'am, the
Jumbo can't come down; not without a lot of help. She's anchored to the steel girders
holding up the roof. The roof's a soft plastic, not very
"How do they control it? Do
you have to go up there?" Liz shuddered. Evers's eyes lightened
"Oh, there's catwalks,
ma'am," the captain said, his eyes crinkling. He seemed unable to resist teasing an
obvious acrophobe. "Way high up. Yes, ma'am, you can climb up right inside the ceiling.
But don't fall off those catwalks, or you'll come right through. Do you want to go up and
see?" he offered, the impish grin returning. "It's just about two hundred sixty feet
above the floor."
Liz, feeling green,
shook her head weakly. She thought of the fall from such a height, and swayed slightly on
her feet, holding onto the banister with a firm grip. "Not unless there's an
"Abelard!" Boo looked at
the man with a wry smile.
don't have to," the guard captain said, releasing his prisoner reluctantly. "They work
her from the control room with a couple of buttons. It's as easy as raising your garage
Boo took her arm in a firm and
reassuring grip as he helped her to the next
"Find anything?" he
"Not a whisker," Liz said.
"It's beginning to look as if it's a job for the Men in Black, not
Boo came up alongside her as she
reached the top of the steep stairs. "I have to admit I'm kind of hoping not," he
"Me, too," Liz said. Though she
would far rather not have to deal with a supernatural menace and it would be a relief if
Fionna's troubles turned out to be a set of coincidences and accidents, the department
needed all the credibility it could get, and this was her first solo mission.
Negative results were no way to earn
They went out into the
broad, tiled hallway. Names of corporations were engraved on plaques set into the metal
doors on her left. Those must lead to the luxury skyboxes she saw from the stage level.
Boo steered her toward a set of blank doors. Scraping sounds shook the floor, and sirens
echoed through the corridors. Liz looked around in
"That's just the loading bay
doors, opening to let the fire truck out," Boo explained. "Come on, let's take a look in
the control room."
He rapped on the
blind door, and a bearded man in t-shirt, jeans and headset let them in. Inside the
cramped, glass-fronted room the crew was in a frenzy of activity. The technical director,
Gary Lowe, stood shouting into his headset behind a man and a woman seated at the
console. Behind him, the event director was talking simutaneously to Lowe and to the
floor director down on the stage. Robbie Unterburger glanced up from her high-tech
keyboard, and cocked her head to beckon them over. Her hands flitted from one control to
another, tweaking levers, knobs and
"This is a fantastic set-up,"
Liz said, staring at the control panel as she tried to figure out what any of it did.
"You aren't running all your machinery, are
"No," Robbie said, tossing her
straight, brown hair, "this is a dry run. I'm just following my cues this time. I'll test
everything, and we'll have one live technical run-through just before showtime tomorrow.
These are the triggers for the lasers, and here are the joysticks for each one. I can run
them manually or program the whole thing to run by computer. They did not go off
and set Fitzy on fire."
"Do you mind?"
the TD barked, cupping his hand over the microphone on his headset. "Excuse us, we're
doing a show here. Sorry," he said to Liz and Boo. Boo put a finger to his lips and
nodded to Liz. They retreated to the rear of the control room to watch the crew prepare.
The female sound engineer shouted into the microphone set into the console in front of
her. The lighting engineer gestured with both hands as he talked into his headset. Lowe
gave Liz and Boo a brief glance, and then forgot about them as the disembodied baritone
of stage manager Hugh Banks boomed out of the speakers
"All right, people! That's
the last of the firemen and the cleanup squad out the door. Everyone's gone. Let's get to
Down below on the stage the
miniature figures of the band took their places and lifted their instruments. Michael
Scott flicked his long fingers down and over the strings of his guitar in the fanning
gesture Liz had seen in a dozen concert videos, drawing forth a glissando like a harp. As
always, the ripple of sound made her quiver with delight. If this case wasn't so serious
she would be thrilled to be here with her idol. Voe Lockney beat his sticks together over
his head, then attacked his drums with a frenzy. The other two joined in. Liz could hear
the music begin to echo and thrum outside, but it was much muted in here in the booth.
The sound engineer's hands flew over the
Fionna appeared at the edge
of the stage in a flame-red sheath dress that could have been painted on her. Her eyes,
cheeks, and lips were tinted the same bright shade. What with her green hair
close-cropped against her skull Liz thought she looked like a shapely match. Liz wondered
why she hadn't detected Fionna leaving her dressing room. She counted back in time, and
decided the cantrip alarm must have gone off while Captain Evers was teasing her about
The tiny, brightly
colored figure stopped at the edge of the stage, while a couple of men in security
uniforms ran around the open platform like questing
"All right," Lowe said,
leaning forward with his hands on the chair-backs. "Cue the spotlights, cue Fionna,
and... what the hell is the matter with her?"
The music died away, and all the band
turned to look at Fionna.
down there!" Lowe growled. "What's the hangup now?"
"She wants them to check for bombs,
sir," an overhead speaker crackled. "She says she's afraid of being attacked
"Bombs! Hell and damnation!"
the TD shouted, pounding on the engineers' seat backs. They sat rigidly, watching the
screen. "We have a show to do! Get those men off the stage, or carry Fee over to her mark
yourself. We haven't got any more time to waste." He flopped down into his seat, between
Robbie and the sound engineer. "I wish that Fee had been in the damned costume
when it went up, and then we'd have a reason for all this fuss! Let her writhe in agony!
Let those rotten 'filmy sleeves' burn to ash! Now, let's get a move on! Get her on
Below them, a man in blue
jeans and a headset went over to Fionna, and pulled her into place in the center of the
stage. Fionna held out her hand in appeal. From the edge of the platform, the bulky form
of Lloyd Preston came over to stand beside her. Next to Liz, Robbie let out an audible
The band struck up again.
Fionna grabbed her microphone in both hands, closed her eyes and emitted a piercing
ululation that softened and resolved into a mellow warble that rose and fell like folds
of silk. The technicians' shoulders relaxed visibly. Even Lowe stood back, arms crossed,
to watch. Boo touched Liz's arm, and they slipped out of the
"No magic," Boo said, as they
went through the next set of double doors on the level. This was the press box, another
large area like the control room, with a broad, curved window looking down on the stage.
Facing it were tiers of desks with microphones and places for computer terminals to be
plugged in. Toward the rear of the chamber, television and radio transmission lines ran
from a labeled console into the ceiling. Several video screens showed different camera
angles of the stage, a necessary innovation to supplement the view, unless the reporters
were carrying binoculars. At this distance the figures of the band were tiny, almost
Down on the stage,
Fionna was making love to her microphone like a torch singer. She and the guitarist
started to step toward one another, intent with passion. Liz felt a shiver of delight,
waiting for them to close the distance and begin their
"Nothing," Boo Boo said,
bringing her back to the present with a disappointing snap. "Nothin' but what we brought
ourselves. It's lookin' as if the cause was somethin' natural or physical. That'd be a
job for the local police, not for
"My chief will be happy," Liz
said, resignedly. "He'd always rather prove a negative. Less difficult to explain to
Boo Boo grinned engagingly.
"Y'all got one of them, too?"
we all?" Liz asked, smiling back.
found in spite of her earlier misgivings she was beginning to like this American. No
matter how unconventional his approach, nor that he looked like a bag of rags, he was a
good investigator and an effective agent. She was convinced he was right. Nothing more
here than an accident, and accumulated paranoia of a spoiled rich girl with powerful
connections. There'd be grumbling in Whitehall about her spending thousands of pounds to
fly here to investigate, but at least Lord Kendale would be
The music rose toward a
crescendo. On the stage Fionna stood in her place under the lights, trembling. Her hands
had fallen to her sides, but they were slowly lifting with the music. Michael Scott stood
behind her, back bowed as he tore the notes out of his guitar. Liz enjoyed the rich
psychic waves this song put out. It felt as though power was rising through her. She
stood almost on tiptoe waiting for Fionna to shout out the last line, when the music
would crash around her like waves against a
And then, Liz felt it. Or
smelled it. Or just knew, in that way her grandmother always told her she would. There
was evil here. Powerful evil. But where was it coming from?
"Do you feel that?" she started to
ask Boo. Suddenly, there was a flash of light on the screens. Fionna let out a shriek of
agony, throwing her arms up against the
Liz wasn't prepared for another
attack so soon, but her training kicked in without hesitation. Never mind where the fire
had come from; put it out! Liz summoned up every erg of magic she had, down to the
reserves, and threw it through the glass at Fionna with both hands in a smothering spell
that would have extinguished a house fire. The force of the spell knocked all the wind
out of her for a moment. She staggered backward, staring. The huge pane of glass seemed
to shiver and sing dangerously, threatening to break. The little figures on the stage
swayed and ran towards one another. She had no time to consider the consequences when she
was flung to the floor by a blast that came from Boo's
"Clear!" he yelled, too
late. Automatically, the analyzing part of Liz's brain recognized the effect as a
containment field to suppress any other occult activity in the area. Liz was impressed.
She didn't know the Americans had been working on anything so sophisticated. Boo glanced
over at her. "Seems like we were
Liz scrambled to her feet and
made for the door, the American half a step behind her.
"Rapid deployment, eh?" she asked, as
they ran down the stairs toward the
"Finest kind," Boo said.
"If you'd thrown that thing one
second sooner you'd have blotted out my
"I saw what you was doing,
ma'am," Boo said, peevishly. "I waited. Now, let's see what happened."
Liz shoved her way through
the crowd of people that had gathered on the stage. The fire alarm was blaring overhead.
Nigel Peters's voice cut through the
"Someone shut that blasted
thing off!" he raged. "We don't want everyone down on us
At the center of the mob,
Fionna had sunk into a heap on the floor. Lloyd huddled over her, frantically trying to
bring her around. Nothing seemed to be wrong with Fionna apart from red, angry skin on
her bare arms.
"A hell of a lot of
help you were," Lloyd snarled at
All Fionna could say over and
over as they bandaged her arms was, "Now you'll believe me."
And Liz had no choice. The stink of
malignity rose from her skin like cheap
"You say the hair on
her arms caught fire?" Liz asked, wondering if she had heard incorrectly. "Not the
"That's it," Laura Manning
said, examining the skin carefully. "There were no sleeves. Left her smooth as a baby's
bottom, apart from the burns, that is. Shh, baby. I've got some cream
"We can't have any more
delays," Patrick Jones cried, pacing up and down. "My God, if the reporters get hold of
this. I'll kill myself."
be good press," Eddie Vincent growled. Nigel Peters tore his thinning
Liz focused immediately on
finding the source of the power. "Did anyone see where the fire came from?" she asked,
but every face in the circle was blank. To them it was just another freak accident, one
of many. Only Liz had felt the anger and hatred fill the arena just before the attack. It
was fading quickly. They would have to work fast to find the source.
"It's symbolic that the fire was
centered on Fionna's sleeves," she said under her breath to Boo Boo, who knelt beside her
near Fionna. "She didn't have any in this dress, but that's what everyone was talking
about just before the blaze. That meant the energy had to have come from somewhere
"How many people could hear
the stage manager?" Boo asked. "Let's ask everyone again, one at a time. I can do that.
I'll bring them back to what they were thinkin' of at the last moment before it
"No, that's a waste of
time," Liz said sharply. Fionna's eyes fluttered, and she sat up. Lloyd immediately
pushed the agents away and cradled his girlfriend in his arms. "We have to examine the
site at once, before the influence dissipates."
"I think," Boo said, in a low tone,
"you're forgetting that this is my turf. You're my guest. I'm in charge here."
"Not this again," Liz hissed. "We
asked for your help. It's my case."
"It's our country," Boo said loudly,
his eyes glowing with the light of battle. "You can't operate here without our
permission. You might as well pack it up and go
"Never! My government will
never take a back seat to yours!"
tossed you out once. We can do it
"Knock it off or leave!" Lloyd
shouted. "Look at her. She's hurt! Let's go downstairs,
Liz looked down at Fionna, who
was holding onto the bodyguard like a drowning swimmer to a float. She was ashamed of
herself. It was the second time that day she'd caught herself behaving in a
nonprofessional manner. Two black marks, Miss Mayfield, she thought, shaking her
head. Lloyd helped Fionna to her feet. Fionna tottered toward the stairs to her dressing
room, with Lloyd and Laura Manning in attendance. The crowd parted to let them pass. Liz
and Boo Boo followed behind.
got to work together on this," Liz said, after a moment. The tension in Boo Boo's
shoulders relaxed. She knew the two of them were thinking the same things. Here was a
case where she could produce proof of an actual magical attack. If they solved the
mystery this could spell credibility for their departments, assuring the budget for next
year, not to mention putting Lord Kendale in their debt. It would put BBB and OOPSI into
the headlines. Horrified, Liz stopped her flight of fancy. If this made the headlines the
furore would never die down. The general public was not ready. They already suspected the
government of prying into their everyday affairs. If they knew about the departments
devoted to the paranormal there would be open rioting out of naked fear.
Boo Boo was thinking the same
thing. "We've got to solve this and keep it quiet," he said, guardedly. "Miss
Fionna needs us, ma'am. Both of us."
"It won't be easy," Liz said. "To say
we have different styles is an absolute understatement, but I'll try if you will."
"It's a deal," Boo Boo said, holding
out his hand for hers. They shook on
"The first thing to do is deal
with our crime victim," Liz said,
Instead of occupying her
grand throne, Fionna was curled in Lloyd's arms on the couch at the side of her dressing
room. She had her knees drawn up protectively, like a little
"They're here," she whimpered.
"They're listenin' to me. They're comin' for
"Who's they, honey?" Lloyd asked,
rocking the trembling woman in his
"Let me see the burns," Liz
said, starting to sit down on Fionna's other side.
"Piss off," Lloyd snapped, glaring at
Liz. "I don't want you within yards of her. This is all your
"All our fault?" Liz asked,
blinking at him. "Are you mad?
"This has been going on all
along," Lloyd said, his face stony. "She tried to tell
"We needed proof," Liz
"To hell with your proof," Lloyd
said. "I'm calling this all off as of now. You're
"It's not so easy as that," Boo
"Oh, yes, it
"Oh, no, it isn't!" Liz said.
"You might have believed her, but what could you do to
As they argued over her head,
Fionna clutched herself in fear. She had felt herself hauled to her feet from the stage,
and had obediently followed Laura and Lloyd downstairs, while angry voices rang in her
ears. She didn't follow half of it, didn't want to. With her eyes closed, she felt her
arms stretched out. Something cool was swabbed along them, and the familiar feeling of
gauze and sticky tape touched her skin. Fee was having a hard time keeping from raving
out loud and crying for police protection or an exorcism. She might be Fionna Kenmare to
millions of fans worldwide, but underneath the wild, Irish persona beat the upper-class
English heart of Phoebe Kendale. Where Fionna delved into the supernatural with alacrity,
Phoebe still thought it was a little naughty, something to taunt the Aged Parents with,
who didn't like her choice of career or friends. She'd always known in her heart
something bad would happen if she started to play with magic. Always. She'd been
cautious. She'd followed every rite of protection she could find to counteract the dark
forces just outside the light, just in case. Just to make sure. Never step on a crack.
Never spill salt without tossing a pinch over her shoulder. Always wish on a star, a
fallen eyelash, a candle flame. Don't let black or white cats cross one's path. But the
evil had started to press too closely in the last few months. That was why she had come
to New Orleans, in hopes of finding stronger magic than she had. But the bad ones had
found her here, first. They were coming for her, just like before. She started to rock
back and forth, worrying.
arms surrounding her helped to push the bogeys away. All her friends were gathered around
her. They wanted to help. They were the grownups, there to protect her from the darkness.
She felt as if she was a little girl again, crying in the nursery when the lights went
out. They'll make it better. But they couldn't help. They didn't understand. She had
followed every one of the superstitions to the letter, even the ones that made her feel
silly. It wasn't enough to keep her safe. She drew a ragged breath and burst into
Oh, I want my
uncontrollably. The evil was here. It had followed her here. The emotional storm inside
her rose to hysterical proportions. It was hard to
She felt herself being
shaken. A calm voice, a familiar voice, cut through her
Oh, it was that imperious
prig, Elizabeth Mayfield. Forgot to set the tables again, or was it some equally tedious
away, she willed the calm, insistent voice. Go away. Elizabeth was just
another manifestation of the evils that surrounded her, haunted her. She tried to shut
them all out, using the ward chants she had learned from the books. Go away, pesty
She put her fingers into her ears.
Two strong hands grabbed her sore wrists and pulled them away. She yelped, and went back
"Fionna," the voice
continued, in an urgent whisper, sinking lower and lower and becoming more and more
intense until it burned into her very being. It was a mere breath upon her ears. "Phoebe
Kendale, if you do not open your eyes right now and snap out of your sulk I will tell
everyone here how you jumped naked off Magdalen Bridge into the Isis River at dawn on
Midsummer Day five years ago."
Fionna's bloodshot green eyes flew
open, glaring into Liz's serious blue ones. "You wouldn't! Of all the officious,
interferin' candy-arsed bitches who ever walked the earth on hind
Liz stood up and nodded to
Nigel Peters. "She'll be all right now," she
"My God, how did you do it?"
Peters asked, staring at his star in amazement. Fionna stopped raving and tensed
"Departmental secret," Liz said,
shortly. But she gave Fionna a look that said if she indulged herself in another
screaming fit the secret would be out. The singer crossed her bandaged arms and stared
her defiance. Liz shook her head. Fionna/Phoebe was as stubborn as the day they had