them. As I watched, Palendar grabbed the actor next to him by the throat and began choking him. A panicky crowd started pouring into the aisles. Merlin and Maslin were trying to reach an Alfar actress who was clawing at another woman’s face, but the crush of people was making it hard.
Jeff shoved people aside. I saw one famous actor’s toupee go flying at the rough handling, and amazingly he stopped to try and recover his rug. Jeff looked like all the action heroes he had ever played as he reached Palendar, grabbed the slender Alfar by the back of his coat and the seat of his pants, and hauled him off his victim. Jeff threw Palendar bodily over three rows of seats. The Alfar hit the chairs with a sickening crash. He regained his feet, but from the way he gripped his side it looked like a few ribs were broken. He was undeterred. He climbed over the seats and attacked Jeff.
Kate cupped her hands over her mouth and yelled over the screams and cries of alarm. “Ladies! Kick off your shoes. Use the fire exit on the left. Everyone, go, go!”
It was clear the woman was a stage actress. Kate had projection down. I was sure they could hear her in the topmost row of balcony seats. I could also see why she’d picked that direction. There was only one Alfar in that section.
People were trying to run in all directions and ended up creating a massive jam of terrified humanity in the aisles. Kate began grabbing some of them and shoving them toward the fire exit.
From my vantage point I watched Merlin and Maslin, like two maddened hobbits, double-teaming the elf actress, who was a head taller. Maslin tackled her at the knees and knocked her down. Curling her fingers into claws she ripped at the journalist’s face. Merlin ripped the train off her dress and wrapped it tightly around her wrists to stop the assault on his brother.
Palendar had his arms around Jeff, immobilizing Jeff’s arms while the Alfar smashed his head against the human actor’s face. Then Parlan waded in and cold-cocked Palendar with a sharp blow to the skull above the elf’s right ear.
On my left was the actress from the restroom who had been bemoaning her sticky tape. It was clearly no longer doing its job because her breasts had fallen out of the restraining fabric. She was frantically shoving at the backs of the people ahead of her either unaware or, wisely, unconcerned that her breasts were front and center. There was a boom camera with an operator and a producer just off to the side of the stage stairs. The operator was looking down at the producer. I heard him yell,
“Should I turn off the camera?”
“Are you nuts! Those are Angelina’s boobs!”
The Alfar actors who were not presently beset by our crew shimmered and vanished. They returned all too soon, and now they had guns. Gunfire, like angry coughs, cut through the screams, and the smell of cordite was in the air. The screaming rose even higher. Hank threw people aside as he moved toward the armed Alfar. Nausea clawed at the back of my throat. Despite our best efforts people were going to get hurt, maybe killed. Should I have warned the organizers of the Oscars? I shook it off. They would never have believed me, and there was no time for recriminations or second-guessing. I had my job—find Qwendar—and I needed to do it. I gazed with growing desperation around the room. Where? Where?
David was wading through the crowds at the foot of the stage trying to reach the stairs so he could get on the stage and deal with Jujuran. But when the shots were fired he turned his attention to the gun-wielding Alfar and switched directions. He headed back up the aisle toward Hank and the shooters. They were the right men for the job. A gun was not going to hurt them.
A flash of motion toward the back of the stage caught my eye. It was the telescoping pedestal toward the back of the stage that had been used during a performance of one of the nominated songs. It placed the singer high above the dancers that twirled beneath him, and now it was slowly rising again. There was a figure standing on the top.
There was no way I was going to make it through the central aisle. It was crammed with terrified people, but I was only two rows from the front. My legs weren’t long enough, and I didn’t have the unnatural grace of a vampire, so I couldn’t balance on the backs of the seats. Instead I had to climb awkwardly over each row. I reached the front row and used my foot to push back down the cushioned seat so I had a place to stand. Hoards of people separated me from the curving stairs that led to the stage.
It was terrifying to contemplate crossing that seething mass of people, but I had to get to the stage. I steeled myself to jump down, then screamed in pain as something struck me in the back. Slewing around I found myself face-to-face with an enraged Alfar actress who clutched her stiletto-heeled shoe in her hand. There was a smear of blood on the heel and I felt the warm trickle of blood down my back.
Out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of the Oscar statue falling toward me just as the Alfar actress raised the shoe again, aiming for my face. I flinched from both the statue and the shoe. The giant Oscar statue landed facedown on the seats next to me. A number of people were under the plywood and papier-mache figure. It formed a perfect bridge from the front row of seats to the stage. There was no time to worry if it would hold my weight, I jumped on it and ran. The wood flexed beneath my feet and the gold coating cracked and split. With each gasping breath I felt my cracked rib shifting in my side. My Alfar attacker was right behind me, but there was a sharp crack, a scream of dismay, and when I glanced back she had fallen through the exterior of the statue and was trapped by the wood inside.
I jumped onto the stage just as the statue broke in half. Jujuran was straddling the actress who’d tried to hold back the Oscar and punching her over and over in the face. I started toward them, but suddenly a vast section of air shimmered and six Alfar on horseback entered from Fey. That got everybody’s attention including Jujuran’s.
Cildar spurred his horse and hit the actor with the hilt of his sword. Zevra rode up behind him, and leaning down, pulled the human actress onto the horse in front of him. Her face was a bloody mask and both her eyes were already swelling and blackening, but she clasped her arms around his neck and gazed up at her rescuer in amazement.
I remembered John telling me that everything the Alfar did was bigger and more dramatic. “You weren’t kidding,” I whispered.
I raised my eyes and looked up at Qwendar. He looked back down at me. Then he gestured, and I saw his mouth move, though I could hear nothing over the screams. I looked out across the audience. The seven Alfar actors, four of whom held guns, began moving toward the stage. They were totally focused on me. I gulped and turned my back on them. I had to trust that they couldn’t hurt me.
I realized that the hoof beats of the horses were unnaturally loud. Then I spotted the wireless microphone laying on the stage. It had been picking up the sound of the hooves, and since at least one camera was still broadcasting, it meant the sound system was on too. As I ran toward the back of the stage I swept up the mike and carried it behind my back.
There was a sound like an enraged bee passing close by me. Bullets had been much in my life over the past weeks, so I didn’t mistake it for anything but what it was. Qwendar’s zombies were shooting at me. The muscles in my back tightened in anticipation of a bullet. I couldn’t help it: I looked back over my shoulder to see David bodily throwing people aside as he rushed my firing squad.
Then my view was cut off as the giant screen that had been used for the In Memorium dropped down behind me. If I couldn’t see the Alfar, they couldn’t see me. It was my chance. I darted off to my left as more bullets punched through the screen where I used to be. The screen began going madly up and down. Then it broke loose and crashed to the stage.
I was safely backstage. Whatever it was that made me a unique human had come through again. Somewhere there would be controls for the pedestal. Qwendar was for damn sure not going to be able to stay above it all. Then I realized if I lowered the pedestal he would be able to step into Fey, but as long as he was thirty feet above the floor he couldn’t. There probably wasn’t an equivalent tower just waiting on the Fey side which would mean he would fall down and go boom. Which meant I needed to go up.
I scanned the catwalks that crisscrossed above the stage. There was one that ran pretty close to the pedestal. I could make that jump … I hoped.
Backstage I found the ladder leading up to the lighting catwalks. I started to climb. The metal rungs on the ladder were painful on my bare feet, and now my rib was screaming its objection. I reached the top and swung out onto a walkway. As I did I caught the single sleeve of my gown on a protruding hook. The rending sound of material tearing had me wincing. I ran down the catwalk, switched to another that ran horizontally across the
