“If my name is dragged into this, I’d much rather D.C. think I’m helping them than you.”
“Ah. I see your point.” She unlocked the door and opened it. “Well, I don’t think they’ll say anything. I threatened to yank the film if they so much as suggest you’re involved.”
That was surprising.
“Here it is,” she added, gesturing to the PA system.
He murmured a few words over the equipment. She switched it on, cleared her throat and let out a whooshing breath as the sound echoed back at her, magnified.
“Problem solved, Rosemarie,” she said into the microphone, bringing their former teacher across the lot at a run.
“How on earth?” Miss Dane said as she got within range of the car.
“Turns out it also runs on batteries,” Miss Harper said, as cool as you please.
“Well! That’s a relief.”
A bus rolled in from Key Highway, perfectly timed. As Miss Dane headed toward it, Miss Harper called out, “Not such a disaster after all, eh?”
“Fix the temperature and I might agree,” Miss Dane declared without breaking her stride.
“All right, I will,” Peter said in an undertone to Miss Harper.
“What?” she gasped.
“Warming spell. Simplicity itself. It lasts only an hour or so, but I’ll recast it again later. And while I’m at it, I’ll demarcate the area so I’ll be alerted if anyone else casts a spell here.”
“Oh,” she said, looking deeply moved, “I could kiss you.”
Then—as he winced at this innocent reminder of his dream—she flushed as red as a ripe strawberry. Oh God. Shehadseen it.
“I mean, thank you,” she said rapidly, “thank you very much, and I—I’d better get back to the tent.”
She fled. Which just made him think of the dream even more.
Patricia Gossard lostthe coin toss to Lydia and had to speak first, one of the few lucky breaks of the day that didn’t involve magic—as far as Beatrix knew. Gossard, a widow who was young for the old guard, perhaps forty, looked film-star striking in her fur-trimmed coat as she stepped behind the microphone. They’d set up the makeshift stage at theedge of the lot, which left Gossard standing with the harbor’s basin stretching out behind her and hulking equipment a few yards to one side.
“Ladies,” Gossard said, “friends—I am here to ask once more for your support. I hope you feel I have upheld the principles of the League over the past four years. Magic stands opposed to everything our country was founded upon, and we haveconsistentlyspoken out against it.”
“Achieving nothing,” Rosemarie muttered as the audience applauded.
“Our annual petition to the president had the most signatures ever this year—ten thousand,” Gossard said, to more applause.
“A whole ten percent of the League’s membership!” Ella murmured, imitating Gossard in that uncanny way she had. “I’m sure President Abbott was ever so impressed!”
Beatrix turned her head to obscure her snort and realized her sister was no longer standing just behind her.
“Where’s Lydia?” she whispered.
“Oh, forPete’ssake,” Rosemarie said. “Go look for her. Not you, Ella,” she added in a sharp whisper. “I need you here.”
Beatrix tried the buses first, suspecting Lydia wanted a quiet spot to collect her thoughts, but both were empty save for their drivers. She found her sister in one of the portable restrooms—throwing up.
“I’m fetching water!” Beatrix called out, and ran for the servers’ staging table. When she returned with a half-fullglass, Lydia was leaning against the side of the restroom farthest from the crowd, face the color of chalk.
“What’s wrong? Are you ill?” Beatrix took the glass back from her sister before it dropped from her fingers. “Oh no—food poisoning?—!”
“No.” Her sister’s voice was ragged. “I’m not sick. And I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
