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I couldn’t get anything more out of Roland. I returned to the concourse level and texted Ardis. She replied that she was eating at a café down the way. The convention center was so vast it had a dozen food concessions and groups of tables and chairs at intervals so people could take a break.
She was alone. “What happened to your admirer?” I asked.
“He’s getting a ticket right now so he can come with us to Carp!” She brushed that aside. “He and I discussed what you did to stop the mayhem. He told me he’d been staring directly at you when you touched the jewel and made time stop.”
“How did he experience it?”
“Differently from the way I did, since he knew you were causing it.”
“How could he know that? Even I didn’t know it at the time. I was improvising.”
“He said you were so purposeful he expected you to act. He watched you.”
I conceded, “Your sword master is a keen observer.”
“Comes from having to watch the little creeps and stop them from pilfering,” he said, setting a bag of cheese puffs on the table, and a large soda. “I’m Damien, by the way, Damien Nast.”
“Chloe Cole. I draw ‘Average Chloe,’ a webcomic.”
Ardis prodded, “For Fantastic Comics, she draws Swoonie.”
“That’s a big deal title,” he said. “I run a comic book store. Little girls have been coming in with their parents looking for Swoonie.”
“Fantastic,” I said. “I wanted girls to know there was something out there for them.”
“Comics are a cool medium,” Ardis said, “wonderful for sparking kids’ imagination.”
“You should make companion products, especially dolls,” Damien said. “Girls love dolls.”
My heart sank. How could I tell him that Swoonie was done for? There would be no licensed products. I almost spilled the beans about the cancellation-and-assassination plans, but managed to hold my tongue.
Ardis offered, “Boys love dolls, too. They call them action figures.”
Damien grinned. “We have to be manly.”
From the amount of muscle on Damien, he was plenty manly. His black tank top showed off well-sculpted muscles under the tattoos.
“Swoonie has had her own book for eight months. Have the girls been coming in all along, or is this a recent thing?” I asked.
Damien rubbed his shaved head. “Let’s see. You had a little publicity going for the series at the beginning, as I remember.”
“Yes, a tie-in with a school reading promotion.” I didn’t explain how I had begged Eric to spend a few pennies on publicizing Swoonie beyond that.
“That was the initial rush. Then nothing much, but it’s been building. I have a sweet little list of subscribers,” Damien said. “Trouble is, I can’t sell them anything else in my store. Nothing appeals to the young female eye.”
Ardis said, “You should have horses. Tween girls love horses.”
Damien laughed. “Yeah, my sister had a horse phase.”
The din produced by the other convention-goers suddenly changed. A wave of quiet reached us, and then a wave of much louder, excited chatter. I looked around. Something had happened, but what?
“Did you hear that?” I asked my companions.
“What?”
I pointed down the long concourse “As if everybody there stopped talking for a second, and then began to shout a minute later.”
“That’s what happened in the exhibition hall,” Ardis said.
“It was all around us then,” Damien remarked. “Came from all sides, like those guys who climbed into my booth.”
I strained to see what could be causing the noise to vary so dramatically a few thousand feet south of us. All I saw was a mass of comicon attendees, at least half of them in costume, or funny hats, or some weird addition to normal street wear. Whatever normal was.
“Nobody’s running at us in a panic this time. A television star?” Damien offered.
Then I saw it. “Oh, my god. Look up, up near the ceiling,” I said. Someone flew a tiny personal airplane, looping around over the people at ground level a couple of times before moving in our direction and then doing it again.
“A publicity stunt.” Ardis said.
“It can’t possibly be legal to fly it inside the building,” I said.
“Could be they don’t care as long as they get attention,” Damien said.
“I have a bad feeling about this,” I said. By now I was half-standing, as if I was about to launch myself into midair. My automatic response from having done a stint as a superheroine. Down, girl. I wasn’t the law here. Plus, I couldn’t fly in this universe.
The noise of the crowd grew louder, with shrieks and yells beginning to dominate.
“What’s happening?” Ardis asked.
“He’s throwing something small at the crowd. Candy or toys, maybe.” Damien said.
“Whatever it is, they’re not happy about it,” I said. “I think we should look for a way to protect ourselves.”
Ardis said, “I am not going to hide under a table again. Once was enough. No offense, Damien.”
Damien said, “These café tables are too small, anyway.” He made a gesture with his head indicating the step-back of the restrooms nearby. “We’d be safe there.”
The flying person was coming closer. “What is he tossing out?” I asked. “For once, I wish my uniform—uh, my costume—had a cape.”
“Sarah’s cape could have covered us all,” Ardis said.
Damien stood and moved to her side protectively. “Time to make a run for it.” He urged her to move to the doorway that led to the recessed entrances to the restrooms.
“Come on,” Ardis said, motioning to me.
I picked up the plastic cafeteria tray on which her snack had sat, and held it over my head. I wanted to identify the manna that fell from the sky. If it was water balloons, then the flier was a prankster. If it was something that could cause harm, then this was Act II of “Mistress Miraculous Attacks the Comicon.” Our experience in the exhibition hall had primed me to look carefully at any surprise.
“Chloe!” Ardis called. Damien called me, too.
I edged toward them, still staring at the approaching aircraft. Others around me weren’t paying attention. The flier was now so close I could see that the aircraft was kept aloft by a very small motor powered by the pilot pedaling. The pilot tossed down darts.
All around me people suddenly cried out. When a man got bloodied and started cursing, I dropped the tray and grabbed the metal napkin holder from a table. I threw it at the aircraft, holding the Dimensional Diamond with my other hand. I’d been a fairly good pitcher in high school. The flier was only fifty feet above the concourse level, but it had been a while since I’d thrown a baseball. I counted on the jewel to boost my arm’s power.