Running Hot (The Arcane Society #5)(69)
Author: Jayne Ann Krentz

Startled, she turned toward him. “What? I thought we just agreed—” She broke off when she realized he was reading the plot summary in the program. “Oh, the story line. No one ever said The Magic Flute made sense. But it’s Mozart so operagoers don’t quibble about little details like plot logic.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“The experts in the Society are certain Mozart was a sensitive, you know,” she added.

“Yeah?”

“How else can you explain his preternatural musical talent?”

“Did he ever join the Society?”

She smiled. “I think he chose the Freemasons instead.”

“Well, the good news is that La Sirène appears in the first act.” Luther closed the program. “It won’t be long before we’ll have our answer.”

The lights went down and the crowded room hushed. The overture began, showering the audience in glorious, sparkling energy. Music had power. Like some weird combination of a freezer and a microwave appliance, it could capture and preserve the brilliant energy of a long-dead composer, warm it up and serve it again and again to generation after generation.

The curtain rose on ancient Egypt. The story unfolded on an elaborate stage that incorporated all the latest and greatest technology. Grace knew that opera audiences expected over-the-top extravagance, not just from the singers but from the sets and costumes, as well. The Acacia Bay opera company had delivered.

It was the perfect setting for a killer coloratura soprano, and when the Queen of the Night took the stage it was all Grace could do to resist the urge to duck behind the seat in front of her.

The Queen’s costume was an elaborate confection of tiered silks and velvets in luminous shades of sapphire blue. The gown was trimmed with gold and studded with glittering beads. The ornate black wig redefined the term “big hair.” The glittering crown was cleverly woven into the tower of fake curls, producing an effect not unlike lights on a Christmas tree.

Everything about the Queen of the Night flashed and sparkled and glittered in an ominous, stage-dominating way. And all of that energy, including the incredible power of her dazzling voice, blazed just as violently in her terrifying aura.

The audience sat, transfixed, when the florid notes of “O zitt’re nicht” flooded the house to the highest balcony. La Sirène did not just squeak out the impossibly high F, she sang it full voice.

Grace did not move so much as a finger. She almost stopped breathing, half expecting to hear the sound of shattered crystal. There was psychic power in the musical fireworks, not enough to kill, but more than enough to mesmerize the audience. Her skin prickled and burned. All her senses were shrieking that she was in the presence of a predator, a crazy predator.

She knew that she and Luther were safely hidden in the shadows; knew that the intense stage lighting made the audience largely invisible to the singers; knew that La Sirène had no reason to suspect that she was being hunted tonight. But the logic did little to satisfy her survival instincts. Death and madness walked the stage.

She did not attempt to whisper to Luther. For one thing she was fairly certain that the people around her would be extremely annoyed if anyone in the audience so much as coughed, let alone spoke to a companion.

Luther’s right hand closed around her left. She realized then that she was shivering. He tightened his grip, letting her know that he had received the message loud and clear. She knew that he could no doubt detect the power of the Queen’s aura, if not all the detailed lights and darks. He could probably see the crazy stuff, too.

He shifted a little and tugged lightly on her hand, indicating that he intended for them to leave. She tugged back, letting him know that they could not walk out while the Queen was onstage. There was too much risk that their departure would be noticed.

When the scene changed, they slipped out of their seats and made their way back up the aisle. Grace pretended not to notice the glares of disapproval. She breathed a sigh of relief when they reached the lobby.

“Tough crowd,” Luther observed.

“Opera has a lot of audience protocols. Walking out in the middle of a performance is frowned upon.”

“If those people knew what the Queen of the Night could do with her voice, they’d all be stampeding for the exits.”

“I’m not so sure,” she said, struggling to calm her breathing. “This is opera. People expect larger-than-life performers. Now what?”

“Now, as ever, we call Fallon.”

They went outside, crossed the street and entered the discreetly landscaped parking garage. In spite of the fact that the Queen was still onstage and would be for some time, Grace found herself scanning every shadow with her senses. When they reached the rental car, Luther got behind the wheel and took out his phone.

Fallon answered on the first ring.

“Well?” he asked.

“Grace says it’s her,” Luther said. “No question.”

“Damn.” Shock reverberated in Fallon’s voice. “Is she sure?”

“I know it’s hard for you when things don’t work out the way you anticipated,” Luther said. “Get over it. We’re the ones sitting here half a block from a woman who can kill us with a lullaby. What now?”

“Harry Sweetwater says he hasn’t been able to turn up anything on anyone in his line who fits the description of the Siren.”

“Probably because Grace was right all along. She isn’t a professional hit woman. She’s a professional opera singer.”

“It just doesn’t make any sense. Why the hell would she go all the way to Hawaii to kill Eubanks if she’s not a pro?”

“Maybe Craigmore knew what she could do with her talent and was somehow able to convince her to take out Eubanks for him. Maybe he was her lover. Grace says she’s had a long string of them. The bottom line is that she’s a killer.”

“There are just too damn many questions here,” Fallon insisted. “A big piece of this puzzle is missing. We need to find the connection that brought Craigmore and an opera singer together. Your diva has a town house in San Francisco. I’ll get someone inside as soon as possible.”

Luther checked his watch. “La Sirène is going to be tied up onstage for quite a while. After that, Grace says she’ll probably spend another hour backstage with her fans. Then she’s scheduled to attend a private reception. Plenty of time for me to see if I can get into her suite at the hotel where she’s staying.”