I slipped in through the emergency stairwell rather than announce my entrance. Double Bass turned out to be guarding it.
    "Hey, who do you think you—boss!" he hollered.
    "We're a little preoccupied here," Postman shouted back.
    "Don't worry, I'll encase him in a sphere of solid sound!" Count Bastard was threatening Scott.
    "Oh, you again," I said to the man blocking my path. I've had it with these people; I wasn't being nice any more. He gave a pained howl and slumped down, using his stick to support himself. "Do yourself a favor and get out of sight before Phoenix Talon gets here."
    The place was in chaos, the Jazz Trio running around collecting jewelry from shrieking socialites and sputtering business types while their boss faced off against Scott and Postman threatened all and sundry with that stupid stamp gun. Meanwhile Trick and Treat were romping through the place saying, "Not you. Not you. Not you. Ooh, bad outfit. Not you." Like they were looking for someone.
    Speaking of Phoenix Talon, I saw him step in through a side door, pass the buffet, grab a large pumpkin off the table, and slam it down over Sticks' head screaming, "It's the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown!"
    Double Bass looked at this, looked at me, and headed for the stairs.
    "Smart man," I approved.
    "Ah, there it is!" Trick and Treat stopped in front of a woman who stood clasping something at her throat protectively. "We was just wondering, y'know, since you didn't have much of a legal right to that anyway, if you'd be willing to just give us the ruby."
    "It's mine!"
    "Actually, it's not. We know that you stole it some time ago, purchased it illegally."
    "But I—"
    Trick made a quick gesture past her throat and opened his hand to reveal a ruby. "Thank you."
    "But how did you—" Astonished, she moved her hands.
    "Thank you!" He grabbed the real ruby, thus revealed. "Time for us to be going! Cait Sidhe, going to the side door!" They did a little soft-shoe on their way towards the door Phoenix Talon had come in through; one has to admit they have style.
    Scott crashed feet-first through the piano; it turned out the machine guns fired rubber bullets, but still.
    "My piano! You wrecked my piano!" Ivory stared at him, stricken to the point of tears.
    "Sorry about that." Scott whacked him with the shovel.
    Count Bastard aimed his trumpet at the robot, suspending him in midair in a globe of sound. With a swift series of notes, the globe rocketed out through a window, toward the bay as the Count continued his tune. Scott broke out easily enough and turned to gas to float back to the party, which unfortunately meant losing his costume and the shovel. He was quite upset about that. Apparently theylanded on some poor taxi driver's car—he had been having a bad enough night already, what with kids trying to egg his car.
    Seeing Trick and Treat nearly at the door with their twice-stolen ruby, I tripped Treat, who fell forward, broke his fall, and rolled back to his feet without missing a beat.
    "Hey—it's been a pleasure!" Trick announced with a grin. "Cait Sidhe, c'mon! Let's blow this joint."
    Then they were gone.
    I wondered where the hell Thunderbolt was.
    Phoenix Talon charged the stage with bokken high, where Count Bastard continued to orchestrate. Brandeis McCauley was in the crowd somewhere, cheering, "Go team!" The Count saw him coming in time, however, and a quick twist of the music sent Talon flying off in the other direction, to land with his foot trapped in another pumpkin.
    "Well, it seems as if this opportunity was provided by mail-order. Hold still," the Postman advised, and fired his stamp gun. "Oh, look, he's a twenty-six cent stamp!"
    The villains had collected some rather hefty bags of jewelry by this time, and Ax was making a break for it with the diamond-studded dress and one of the bags.
    "Yes, leave with the loot, we'll catch up!" Bastard told him. "Don't worry, we've got the situation under control! Postman, just take out Needle!"
    "Yes, I'm having a good night," he agreed. "We'll deal with her express!"
    "I can almost handle the inane names and stupid costumes," I muttered, dodging the Postman's attempts to aim at me; this was a new gun. "It's the dialogue that gets me."
    "Scott's out, time for us to go!" Count Bastard announced. "Haven't you dealt with her yet?"
    "She's bobbing and weaving, dammit" the Postman complained. "Not to worry, I've worked my way along the most tortuous postal routes in America! She can't dodge me forever."
    "I'm going to hurt you," I informed him conversationally. And did so. He fell to the ground, barely conscious, braced on one elbow.
    "Be grateful she got to you before I did!" Talon yelled, slicing his way free of the stamp.
    "Guaranteed... delivery... ma'am." He fired an envelope at me; I dodged. It turned to follow me.
    Uh-oh.
    Not about to let whatever it was get to me, I led it a merry chase through what seemed like half the building—passed Double Bass on the stairs. It slid under doors, followed around corners, and seemed tireless. It was almost fun; I'm very pleased by my progress in flying these past few months.
    Back in the main room, Count Bastard began playing a jig at Phoenix Talon, the dance-to-exhaustion we had seen the effects of once before.

[Aside: Others]

    Phoenix Talon broke free of the dancing charm and headed toward Count Bastard again, undeterred, just as Scott made it back to the building. I went around the place, hoping to tire the envelope out, and saw Ax below, sprinting for freedom with the dress in one hand. I dropped down lower, did a quick dodge around him, putting him between me and the pursuing paper.
    "No! Not the envel—"
    He was gone. I blinked. No sign of him, no sign of the envelope that had... eaten him or whatever. I was glad I hadn't let it get to me, and headed back up to ask Postman where his henchmen might be.
    "Don't care for dancing? Then sit out the next one why don't you!" A blast of sound slammed painfully into Phoenix Talon; he gritted his teeth and kept hold of his sword.
    "I trust you can take care of him, I'll see you later!" The Postman had gotten back to his feet.
    "Postman, you bastard, why don't you do something?" the Count howled around the mouthpiece of his trumpet.

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