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name, but I craned my neck and scanned the audience.
    â€œI can’t see who it is,” Adam whispered.
    Ushers and security appeared at every doorway. One lift of Jaime’s hand, and they came no further.
    â€œComfortable lies, Jaime,” the male voice continued. “You tell them comfortable lies. We all do. We hide in the shadows and we tell comfortable lies, to them and to ourselves. Lies about what we are. Lies about what we can do.”
    Now Jaime waved to the guards to start searching. The man made it easy by standing up. He was younger than I would have expected, probably not much older than me. Not a wild-eyed nutcase either. Just a regular guy—dark hair, average build, decent-looking.
    â€œRecognize him?” Adam whispered.
    â€œNo, I’ve never—”
    The man’s gaze passed over mine and I felt a jolt that had me whispering a curse. He was a sorcerer. We recognized one another on sight.
    He felt the jolt, too, and his gaze swung back. He saw me this time and he froze. Then he blinked and his lips parted. The man in the row in front of him shifted, blocking our sight line, and the sorcerer practically dove across the seats to shove the man out of the way. He stared at me. An openmouthed gape, as if he’d spotted a zebra in the audience. His lips formed my name.
    Adam tapped my arm to get my attention. “You do recognize him?”
    â€œNo. Just that he’s a sorcerer. But he seems to know me.”
    I turned back. The man had looked away and others between us had shifted so our sight line was blocked again.
    â€œWhy are you pandering to humans, Jaime O’Casey?” the sorcerer called.
    The guards simultaneously reached each end of his aisle.
    â€œYou have power,” he said. “True power. Unbelievable power. You can’t just speak to the dead. You can’t just raise the dead. You have a direct line to the Almighty. There’s an angel sitting on your shoulder.”
    â€œI don’t think that’s an angel,” Jaime said.
    A whoosh of laughter from the audience, too loud and too long for the joke, relief subsiding into nervous giggles and uncomfortable whispers.
    â€œGet him out of here!” someone shouted.
    â€œHe’s holding up the show!”
    Real audience members? Or Jaime’s plants? Either way, the cry spread, drowning him out.
    â€œI think those guys are going to ask you to leave,” Jaime said as the guards closed in on the man. “I’m sorry, but folks here paid good money to see the show.”
    In the hush that followed her words, the sorcerer shouted, “The end is coming! The end of hiding! The end of pretending! The end of comfortable lies!”
    He waved his hands over his head. Fog spread from his fingertips, swirling around him. The audience gasped. I shoved my way along the row to the aisle. Adam followed.
    The guards ran at the man. He hit them with a knockback. Then another fog spell, cast over and over, the clouds spreading, covering his retreat.
    When the fog dissipated, the guy was gone, and Adam and I were standing in the outer aisle. Jaime saw us and nodded.
    â€œWow,” she said. “And I thought my special effects were good. Hey, Kat?”
    Kat’s voice came over the loudspeaker. “Yes, ma’am.”
    â€œNext show? Dry ice. Lots of it.”
    The audience laughed nervously, grateful for the excuse.
    â€œDid he say I could raise the dead?” Jaime said. “You know, my mom used to say that, too. Every time I cranked up my stereo.”
    More laughter. People settled into their seats. Adam and I glanced at each other then headed for the door. A guard pulled it open for us.
    â€œThe end is coming.” Jaime climbed onto the catwalk. “Can’t give him any points for originality, can we?” When that spate of laugher died, her voice dropped an octave. “Some people believe that. I don’t agree. But I know one thing. When our