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flew, she worked on her problem: how to get four humans out of the blast zone in as many minutes.
    Until recently she would have had a second problem: the building itself. According to the fairy Book, fairies were forbidden to enter human buildings without an invitation. This was a ten-thousand-year-old hex that still had a little sting, causing nausea and loss of power to anyone who defied it. The law was an anachronism and a serious impediment to LEP operations, so after a series of public debates and a referendum, the hex had been lifted by demon warlock N o 1. It had taken the little demon five minutes to unravel a hex that had stumped elfin warlocks for centuries.
    Back to the original problem. Four large humans. Big explosion imminent.
    The first human was easy enough and the obvious choice. He was blocking the others and wore nothing but a towel and a tiny security guard’s cap, which perched on top of his skull like a nutshell on the head of a bear.
    Holly grimaced. I have to get him out of my sight as soon as possible, or I may never forget this image. That Mud Man has more muscles than a troll.
    Troll! Of course.
    There had been several additions to the Recon kit while Holly had been in Limbo, most invented and patented by Foaly, naturally. One such addition was a new clip of darts for her Neutrino. The Centaur called them anti-gravity darts, but the officers called them floaters.
    The darts were based on Foaly’s own Moonbelt, which generated a field around whatever was attached to it, reducing the earth’s gravitational pull to one fifth of normal. The Moonbelt was useful for transporting heavy equipment. Field officers quickly adapted the belt to their own specialized needs, attaching their prisoners to the pitons, which made them much easier to handle.
    Foaly had then developed a dart that had the same effect as his Moonbelt. The dart used the fugitive’s own flesh to conduct the charge that rendered him almost weightless. Even a troll seems less threatening when it is bobbing in the breeze like a balloon.
    Holly slipped the clip from her belt, using the heel of one hand to ram it into the Neutrino.
    Darts, she thought. Back to the Stone Age.
    The big security guard was square in her sights, his lip wobbling petulantly.
    No need for laser sights with this Mud Man, she thought. I could hardly miss.
    And she didn’t. The tiny dart pricked the man’s shoulder, and he quivered for a moment until the antigravity field encircled him.
    “Ooh,” he said. “That’s a little . . .”
    Then Holly landed beside him, grasped his pale thigh, and hurled him into the sky. He went faster than a popped balloon, leaving a trail of surprised O ’s in his wake.
    The remaining men hurriedly finished pulling on their pants; two tripped in their haste, banging heads before crashing to the ground. Plates of tomato-and-mozzarella rolls were batted aside; bottles of beer went spinning across the tiles.
    “My sandwiches,” said one man, even as he struggled with his purple jeans.
    No time for panic, thought Holly, silent and invisible among them. She ducked low, avoiding pale swinging limbs, and quickly loosed off three more darts.
    A strange calm descended on the sauna as three grown men found themselves floating toward a hole in the roof.
    “My feet are—” began the bespectacled man.
    “Shut up about your feet!” shouted sandwich man, swiping at him with a fist. The motion sent him spinning and bouncing like a pinball.
    Foaly overrode Holly’s MUTE.
    “D’Arvit, Holly. You have seconds. Seconds! Get out of there now! Even your suit armor will not stop an explosion of this magnitude.”
    Holly’s face was red and sweating in spite of her helmet’s climate control.
    Seconds left. How many times have I heard that?
    No time for subtleties. She lay flat on her back, tapping the readout on her Neutrino to select concussion beams, and fired a wide pattern blast straight up.
    The beam bore the men aloft, as a fast-flowing