"Hi, hon! How's the vacation?"

Astrea Starr looked out from her veranda onto a street, just blocks from Colonial Williamsburg.

"Oh, it's wonderful, Jason. I so wish you could be here."

"Me, too - but I can't just leave the business at the drop of a hat."

"You aren't mad at me for going, are you?"

"Heck, no. I love you babe, you know that. But after the past couple of weeks I sure don't begrudge your other self a few days."

"Mr. Findlay was nice enough. I think he attributes it to stress." Astrea made a face. "I'm not so sure I like that."

"Heh."

"Oh, Jason, I love Williamsburg! The candle-making, the blacksmith's... the roller coasters."

"Well, I'm sure you could teach them a thing or - did you just say 'roller coasters'?"

Astrea laughed. "Yeah. They've got a park down here, the Olde Country. Supposed to be all old European - I might head over tomorrow."

"No call for your star-spangled alter-ego, eh?"

"No!" she said happily. "It's so-o-o relaxing, Jase."

He laughed. "If travelling around Williamsburg is your kind of fun..."

"Only because Gettysburg is crowded this weekend."

"Say, uh, I kinda hate to bring this up... but the Capitol Pageant director was on the news this morning. He was hoping to get, well, you know who to show up."

Astrea bit her lip.

"Am I hearing about this only because you have to work?"

"Huh? No, hey, hon - theater's closed for the Fourth. I just thought if, you know, you wanted to, you could just sneak away for a number or something."

"You'd... let me mess up our Fourth for..."

"For a chance to see thousands of people cheering my girl? Damn straight!"

"Jason..."

"Hon. It's no big deal. Like you went off to find the bathroom or something. Yeah, I don't want you gone the whole night, but fifteen minutes, half an hour? Americana's gotta make some appearances, and this seems like as safe a bet as any."

"Hmm.

"Who do I get in touch with?"

"Uh, they didn't leave a number or anything..."

"Leave that part to me, honey."

The next morning, she pulled out one of the disposable cell phones she had purchased and inserted her card. It did bother her that criminals had access to the same technology - thirty bucks and they had a nigh-untraceable telephone.

She set about tracking down whoever was in charge of the Capitol Fourth pageant. While finding someone from out of town without a name might be a trick, she had had plenty of experience finding much more obscure people - tracking down this man was hardly a challenge.

"Festival Productions - how may I direct your call?"

"Mr. Julius, please."

"He's pretty busy right now - may I say who's calling?"

"Americana."

The heroine waited for a second, then heard a soft click. She sighed inwardly. Of course she'd be disconnected - she would have disconnected her.

"Americana! Hello!"

"Mr. Julius?" the heroine stammered, a tad shocked. "Hello. I thought we'd been uh, never mind."

"It is you, isn't it? Marjorie insisted I come to the phone. Wow. This is an honor."

Americana felt her face flush. "Thank you. I was calling to ask if, well, if you've not filled in all your spots yet, I'd like to accept... that is..."

"Holy... of course! Yes, of course. We were wondering if, since you sang our National Anthem at the ballpark a few months ago, if you'd sing it for us?"

"Sure. I'd be glad to."

"Wonderful!"

"Just - "

She could hear him deflating on the other end of the phone. She was going to ask them not to publicize her appearance, because villains might decide to attack. But who was left? Who was powerful enough and arrogant enough to attack her in front of that huge a crowd?

"Just tell me when and where to show up."

"You're quite certain?"

"Yes, Mistress," the man in the skull makeup said flatly. "The Skeleton Krewe is positive that she is not in the immediate vicinity."

"Mmm-mm," Jazzabelle thought, floating across the floor like a spectre.

The little man stood slightly hunched over, his closely-shaved head painted black except for the skull outlining his face. It was difficult to tell just where the ragged black shirt and trousers started and the skeleton painted on his body began.

He stood patiently, waiting for his mistress to speak. He was relatively new to the Skeleton Krewe - less than three years - but he had learned to wait.

No matter how long it took.

"She could be on another case... she appeared in California and Canada, after all. She could just be taking a vacation."

"Yes... yes, she could."

Jazzabelle thoughtfully lit a candle and looked into its flames.

"Or she is immune to our scrying, to our magics. We simply cannot detect her. That would make her very dangerous."

"Would you like us to draw her out?"

"Non! Petit-bon, do you not understand that we are creatures of shadow? Shine a light on us and we disappear, only to return when the light is turned away. Pourquoi attirez l'attention du tout?"

She looked into the candle again.

"I would like so much to simply withdraw back to N'Orleans, and forget her. Yet, I sense she is coiled like a viper, remaining hidden from our sight until she strikes at our heel. We must either remain on guard at all times - or kill the snake."

Jazzabelle looked up.

"Tell the Skeleton Krewe that they make take three weeks to attend to their affairs.

"Then," she smiled slyly, "we shall see how immune she truly is."

"It's getting close," Jason muttered.

"Oh, don't be such a worry wart," Astrea said cheerfully. She checked both her watches. "Plenty of time yet."

Jason shrugged and reached into the cooler for another beer. "Okay-y-y-y."

"All right, all right. I better find a bathroom now," she said, saying the words in case anyone happened to be listening.

Astrea got up and pecked him on the cheek, then began making her way off of the Capitol lawn. She had nearly twenty-five minutes, but it was going to take at least fifteen before she got anywhere she could change.

Luckily, she thought as she stepped her way around blankets and coolers, she worked on the Mall. And she had a key.

She went to an employee entrance, since there were far too many people at the front door, and slipped inside. She walked down the darkened hallway to make sure no one else was there, though at fifteen minutes before the huge celebration she really wasn't expecting anyone.

Satisfied that she was indeed alone, she spread her legs out and lifted her arms to her sides. A five-pointed star of silver-white energy formed in the center of her chest, then rapidly expanded out and engulfed her.

When the star faded back, Astrea Starr was gone.

In her place was a taller, broader woman in a leotard, star-spangled blue on top, red on the bottom. Silver stripes ran across the tops of her white boots and gloves and across her chest, culminating in a single white star.

Smiling, Americana made her way to the door and cracked it open. She was sure to be seen by someone, but so long as no one was looking directly at the door...

She zoomed out and up over the Smithsonian's main tower. There were thousands upon thousands of people gathered for the concert and fireworks. She shrugged; might as well use those thousands of eyes to establish her flying in, rather than trying to be sneaky and failing.

"Oh my God! It's her!"

"There she is!"

"Holy! She's flying! She's real!"

"Americana!"

Hundreds of people pointed and hollered and cheered and waved arms and flags as she silently coasted overhead.

Wow. Just... wow.

It was like back in January, when the President had awarded she and her friends medals for saving Los Angeles. That was really the first - and only - time all six of them had gotten together.

And judging from the crowd's reaction, she remained pretty popular.

She flew up onto the stage, with three minutes to spare.

"Americana! I'm so glad you could make it. I'm Hans Julius."

The heroine turned to take his hand, and was surprised to see Mr. Julius stood six-foot-six and weighed no more than one hundred ninety pounds.

"Well, the crowd has already seen you... are you ready to go?"

"Sure, Mr. Julius. I've been ready for a while."

"Good, good. Wait, I think I hear them starting..."

"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to a Capitol Fourth!"

Cheering and polite applause ensued.

"Oh my - that's Waylon Grady!" Americana said excitedly.

"You like Waylon Grady?" Julius smiled. "He's the host for tonight."

"Oh, he's terrific! Funny guy."

"... and to get the evening started, it is my absolute pleasure to introduce a woman whose might is used in the cause of right, that flying wonder of the age... Americana!"

Americana walked out on the stage and the crowd arose with a roar.

And they kept clapping and cheering.

Under the cover of the crowd noise, she shook Waylon's hand and mouthed "pleased to meet you", to which he mouthed "the pleasure's mine".

"Hello, Washington and hello America!" she said, stepping to the microphone - which elicited even more applause.

"Ladies and gentlemen, your National Anthem," Waylon said in a deep, resounding voice.

And Americana began to sing.

She really could not hear herself; she was busy concentrating on the words, on their meaning, and on looking around and making eye contact with her audience.

But it was a song she knew from her heart, and it showed.

"... and the home... of the... bra-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-ave!"

Waylon Grady came over to shake her hand.

"Thank you, Americana. Will you stay and watch the fireworks?"

"Thanks, Mr. Grady, but I've got plans for tonight."

She winked. "Might include some fireworks, at that."

Then, to a raucous ovation, she flew into the night sky.

By the time she found a place to change (she couldn't just fly into the Smithsonian with all those people around) and worked her way back to Jason, the intermission had just ended.

"Sorry," Astrea said. "Had some problems with the wait. What did I miss?"

"Well, you missed Americana!" a ten year old on the next mat said. "She was great!"

"Carrie!" the mother gasped. "I am so sorry... "

Astrea laughed. "Don't apologize.

"Any friend of Americana's is a friend of mine!"