CONSUMED IN INSTANTANEOUS darkness, Jess turned the firebox’s old rusted wheel. About the size of a dinner plate, the wheel groaned and strained, requiring more effort than she’d expected. But at last, the flat canvas hose bulged and became tubular. Jess held it firmly and aimed its green brass nozzle, her eyes already adjusting to the low yellow light from the flames.

The boy with the projector never saw it coming. The powerful stream of water hit him like a battering ram, sending him off his feet. He was midair when a figure that resembled Amanda rose from the floor. Amanda lifted her arms and pushed, changing the boy’s direction and speed. Rolling tables, snapping chairs, and the boy himself flew toward the stage as if lofted high by a tornado.

Amanda looked witchlike, a tormented force of anger and rage. Burning furniture lifted from the dance floor in a debris storm. Jess directed the fire hose at the stage, as instructed, aiming to douse the campfire over which the Traveler squatted.

At almost the same moment, a brilliant flash of blue light erupted from the imaginary pot being stirred by Witch Hazel. The air filled with a hundred birds of every size, from eagles, hawks, and crows to swallows and sparrows. In a second, the debris Amanda had thrown was gone, replaced by living organisms.

Not a splinter reached the Traveler.

Jess dropped the hose, astonished. Beyond the Traveler, with no electricity or projector, the Maleficent mannequin glowed. The evil fairy seemed caught, struggling between a projected and material existence. Jess forced herself to redouble her efforts; she had to keep Maleficent from forming.

The birds circled overhead, wings stirring the smoke and clouding the vision of the people in the ballroom. The wild creatures cried in anguish, desperate for open air. Crows and hawks swooped low, forcing Jess to duck—and only then did it occur to her that the birds were agents of Witch Hazel.

Maleficent’s wooden limbs moved. Jess swallowed back the urge to vomit.

Maybeck rushed the stage. The three teens closest to Maleficent turned, forming a wall that kept him from both the kneeling Traveler and Maleficent’s shifting form.

Jess struggled to regain control of the spitting hose, the power of which made it difficult to hold. She shot some birds out of the air; hit a table, and pushed it across the room. Then, with renewed focus, she trained the watery blast on the stage.

She hit Maybeck in the shoulder, spinning him out of the way. Without pause, she sprayed the three teens. They whisked back and into the transfiguring Maleficent. The mannequin went down hard.

The Traveler looked up then. Straight into Jess’s soul.