Darkest Night - Smoke and Shadows Part 39

"Yes?"

"Tony and Arra."

"Yes?"

"Is there something going on with them? You know ..." He waggled a hand. ". . . going on?"

Chester Bane favored the director with a long, level stare. "I wouldn't like to guess."

In point of fact, he very much disliked guessing. He liked to know.

He intended to know.

Chapter Fifteen.

"IT WAS ... It was in my . . ."

"Shhhh, not yet."

Tony leaned heavily on Arra's arm as she walked him down the bas.e.m.e.nt stairs and sighed in relief as they stepped out onto the workshop floor, realizing the significance of the observation he'd made the first time he came down here. There were no shadows.

He stumbled toward a chair, dropped onto it, and didn't have the strength to protest when Arra grabbed a folded s.p.a.ce blanket from a shelf and wrapped it around him. The security of something between him and the world actually felt pretty good.

"Now tell me," the wizard commanded as she sat.

So he did.

"It was hiding in your shadow?" She frowned. "That explains the deepening of the shadow-taint, but they've never . . . This is new behavior for them."

Tony considered shrugging, decided his head might lose its precarious balance if he tried, and snorted instead. "They were in Hartley for just over twenty-four hours. You said that no one knows how to hide like an alcoholic. I guess they learned a few tricks."

"No ... I banished the shadow holding Hartley."

"It slipped through the pauses in your banishing spell. You were breathing kind of heavy so it wasn't one long string of syllables like usual."

Her frown deepened. "It told you that or are you guessing?"

"I touched it. Remember, I told you." Unsure of what might be useful wizardly information, he'd told her everything."Did I tell you what a stupid thing that was for you to have done?"

"You kind of choked when I got to it the first time. So . . ." He was about to ask: What now? What happened now that the Shadowlord had the information he was waiting for?

And then he realized he didn't really want to know. Not yet. He could use a few more minutes of ignorant bliss."... so what's your story?"

No doubt Arra heard his original question in the pause. Less than no doubt that she didn't want to deal with the answer either. "The moment I realized there was more than one shadow remaining, I headed for the soundstage but was prevented from entering by the presence of CB and the two officers."

"And the shooting light," Tony muttered, wrapping the s.p.a.ce blanket more tightly around him.

"The light alone wouldn't have stopped me-it's a social contract, not an impenetrable barrier-but barging in past witnesses would have required explanations I couldn't give.

Not when two of those witnesses were police officers whose suspicions were already aroused. While we waited, they interrogated me about what we were doing together on Sat.u.r.day, but I don't think they believed what I told them."

"May/December f.a.g-hag romance?"

"What?"

"Never mind. What did you tell them?"

"Exactly what you told them. That you were spending your time off learning another aspect of the business, expanding your skill set, and keeping yourself employable."

"And they didn't believe that?"

"She seemed fine with it. He seemed reluctant."

"Why didn't you . . . ?" He snaked a hand out from under the blanket and used it to wiggle his nose. As Arra stared at him blankly, he sighed. "You never watched Bewitched? No," he realized, "how could you? You pretty much just got here. Why didn't you do magic? Make them believe what you wanted or forget you were there as you made a run for the soundstage?"

"The gate was opening. To use power so close to the open gate . . ."

"He would have known you were here. Well, he sure as s.h.i.t knows now." And things fell into place with a nearly audible click. "He was never looking for another world to conquer, he was looking for you." Tony knew he was right. Knew it because of the way the color left the wizard's face, leaving her looking old and gray. Knew it because of the way she turned and walked to her desk and sank down into her chair as though her legs would no longer hold her weight. "You're the one that got away."

"He killed everyone else in my order." For the first time since he'd known her, Arra sounded old.

"And he wants to complete the set." A flash of bodies nailed to a blackboard and Tony thanked G.o.d that his stomach was empty. Not everyone had died quickly and before these two were finally allowed an end to pain, they'd probably told the Shadowlord everything he wanted to know.

"They didn't know what variables I'd used to open the gate," Arra said, as though she'd been reading his mind. "They couldn't tell him where I was. He must have had to keep opening gates at random until he got lucky."

"Why didn't you keep moving? Open another gate and another until you c.r.a.pped up the trail so badly he'd never find you?"

"Opening a gate requires precise calculations and a sure knowledge of how the energy flow of the world works. It took me a little over five years before I thought I might be able to do it and ..."

"By then you had a life. Cats."

"The cats have nothing to do with this."

"If you gate away, he'll kill them because they were yours. He'll torture and kill everyone who might have known you just like he did before-just in case one of them might know where you've gone."

She stared at him as though she'd never seen him before. "How . . . ?"

"The shadows are shadows of him. When I grabbed this one, I knew what it knew. It didn't know much, but it was pretty clear on that. He's obsessed with finding you."

"He likes to finish what he starts. Vindictive b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

That wasn't quite ... Searching for the right memory, Tony ended up back at the bodies on the blackboard and shied away. He couldn't go there again. Not right now. Enough of the depths, they were dark and dangerous, and he needed a few minutes in the light and safety of the shallows. "Hey, shouldn't I be having my vodka-catnip cooler?"

"It's not necessary; I poured power into you directly. The potion is essentially a battery, holding the power for transport."

"Okay." From the little Arra had explained about the workings of wizardry that made sense. "I could still use a drink."

"I expect your backpack is up by the lamp."

"Right." c.r.a.p. "So what was the baseball bat for?"

"I was wondering that myself." CB's voice flowed down the stairs and filled all the s.p.a.ces not otherwise occupied with a mix of anger and impatience. Arra started and watched through narrowed eyes as he followed his voice into the workshop. Grateful he wasn't between them, Tony decided it might be best if he remained a spectator in this conversation.

"You came through my wards." When CB looked blank, she sighed, her frown deepening. "My protections. They were meant to keep out the people I don't want down here."

"What you want is irrelevant; this is my building. My studio. What I want ..." He stalked out into the center of the workshop and the s.p.a.ce seemed suddenly much smaller. "... is information. You may begin with the baseball bat."

The bat was dangling from his left hand and from the businesslike way he was holding it, Tony realized he was half inclined to use it.

"Uh ... CB ..."

"Not a word, Mr. Foster. I'll deal with you in a moment."

Great.

"It's all right, Tony. It's about time CB knew what was going on. It is happening in his studio, after all." Sighing deeply, apparently unable to look the big man in the eye, Arra picked up a pencil and doodled on a sc.r.a.p of paper as she talked. "I had the bat because I suspected Tony was going to be attacked by a ..." Explanation and pencil paused. "... by another member of the crew."

"Why?"To Tony's surprise, Arra spilled the whole story. From the shadow glimpsed at the location shoot, right down to what Tony had just told her. She'd didn't give up Henry's secret ident.i.ty as a creature of the night but laid out the details of everything else. CB's expression never changed. Tony had to give him credit for not interrupting unless, as was likely, he was too stunned to interrupt. Tony'd been a part of the story from the beginning and even he found it hard to believe.

When Arra finally stopped talking, he nodded slowly. "So it appears Constable Elson's instincts are correct. There is something going on at my studio."

"The police," Arra snorted, "are less than useless in a case like this."

"Very probably. Why was I not kept informed from the beginning?"

"You were there when I fell through the gate. You would have realized much, much earlier than Tony here that the Shadowlord wasn't planning an invasion-no matter how much I personally wanted to believe that. You'd have realized he was looking for me."

She lifted her head then and met his gaze. "Given the destruction he's capable of, I wasn't entirely convinced you wouldn't just toss me back up through the gate."

"It is a solution that occurred to me as you were speaking."

It hadn't occurred to Tony. But then CB hadn't seen the blackboard.

"So. Mr. Foster here has survived two encounters with the shadows; why, then, did they kill Nikki Waugh?"

Arra sighed and ran a hand back through her hair, standing it up in gray spikes. "That was a different kind of shadow; primitive and sent here to gather the information that would allow the Shadowlord to create the more complex shadows that interacted with Tony and the others. The information was Nikki Waugh's life."

"He sent it to kill?"

"Essentially, yes."

"He needed that information-the information that killed Nikki Waugh-in order to continue his search for you?"

"Apparently."

"So your presence here is responsible for ..."

"For everything. Yes." Arra slumped down in her chair, her tailbone barely on the edge of the seat. "Trust me, I've added Nikki to the li. . . d.a.m.n it!" She picked up the piece of paper she'd been doodling on. "I've just scribbled over an invoice for blasting caps."

"Leave it," CB commanded as she reached for an art eraser.

"Not likely. These have to be filed with the local police and they're already not fond of me."

"Us," Tony reminded her as bits of graphite-covered rubber began to pile up on the paper. Deja-vu all over again . . . Although he couldn't quite hold on to just what exactly was evoking the feeling. "So now what?"

CB turned his head just enough to catch Tony's gaze and hold it. Before the shadows and the realization that Henry was holding a line on his life, Tony would have been-had been-pretty near s.h.i.tting himself in this kind of situation. Things change. Times change.

He didn't look away though; no point in being rude. Particularly to your six-foot-six employer who's not only already p.i.s.sed off but happens to still be holding a baseball bat.

"Now," CB growled, "we close that gate. I will not have my studio destroyed or my people murdered because they got in the way of a dark wizard's vendetta.""The gate can't be closed from this side," Arra pointed out wearily.

He pivoted his entire upper body to face her directly. "Then it must be closed from the other side."

"Sorry." Lifting the invoice, she blew the eraser rubble to the floor.

And Tony remembered.

As Chester Bane forgot.

"Ah, you brought me my bat." Arra slipped the invoice into a hanging file. "Thank you."

"Yes, I..." He stared at the bat. Blinked once and frowned. "There was something ..."

"Arra!"

"Be quiet, Tony."

No. He was not going to be quiet. There was no f.u.c.king way he was going to let her just blithely go around erasing chunks of people's lives. Taking the easy way out. Refusing to deal. Except, he couldn't speak. Couldn't make a sound. Couldn't even snap his fingers.

Couldn't be anything but quiet.

"Tony." CB frowned. "I was wondering how Mr. Foster was."

Gagged. That's how I am. f.u.c.king cow. He glared at the wizard. Yeah, and I'd trade you in a heartbeat for three magic beans! h.e.l.l, I'd trade you for lima beans!

"He's still a bit under the weather. I'm beginning to think there's a bug going around.

You'd better check into it before we get a visit from the Public Heath Nurse. You know how the media's always looking for the next medical crisis."

"That's not ..."

"Constable Elson has a bee up his b.u.t.t about the studio already and he saw Tony was sick. If he speaks to the wrong person ..." Her voice didn't so much trail off as collapse under the weighted innuendo it carried.