Smoke and Shadows (38 page)

“You cannot hold me.”

He tightened his grip on skinny wrists. “Bet?”

The shadow began to separate.

“Arra!” She had to be in the parking lot by now, but he couldn't see her. The car was in the way.

The shadow was now a distinct shape, rising up out of Hartley toward him. If he let go, it would suck back in and make a break for it. If he didn't . . .

If I bash his head against the ground, could I knock him out?
Unlikely. And he'd have to let go to do it.

“Arra!”

Six inches. Four. He wasn't . . . He couldn't . . . If it touched him . . . Releasing his grip, he scrabbled backward on his hands and knees, down the length of Hartley's legs until he slammed up against the open car door.

Only a short strand of darkness connected the shadow to the boom operator.

It surged against that last restraint. Snapped it. Slid along Hartley's prone body. Flowed down over his legs. Connected Hartley's shadow to Tony's as Tony flung himself up and into the car.

As Tony crawled as fast as he could across the bench seat, reaching for the handle on the passenger side, he could feel it still moving along his shadow, using it as a safe path through the midday sun. Then cold air caressed his ankle and he bit back a scream. They could move faster than this. They could move faster than Henry. It was toying with him.

Arra could taste blood in the back of her mouth as she forced herself over the last few meters to the car. What the hell had she been thinking this morning? Right. She hadn't been thinking. She'd been reacting. She'd been stupid. Careless.

She tripped over a groaning body, glanced down to see the boom operator as she slammed against the trunk of the car, and saw the shadow slip off his lower legs. No time to recover. One hand bracing herself against the warm metal, she sucked air in and breathed out the incantation. Sucked in air. Breathed out incantation. Her pulse was pounding so hard in her temples she couldn't even hear her own voice, but it didn't matter. She could say this particular incantation in her sleep. Had.

Sucked in air. Staggered forward. Finished incantation.

Dropped to her knees, looked up to see Tony staring down at her from the front seat of the car. She blinked and managed to focus. Recoiled a little as the taint rolled over her strong and dark. Relaxed as that was all she felt.

“Arra?”

“I'm fine. You?”

“Fine.”

He looked terrified, but considering the alternative, that was close enough to fine. She dropped to her knees beside Hartley's writhing body as Tony got out of the car, and worked a thermos out of the backpack. “You need to get some of this down him.”

When he reached for the thermos, she clutched it close and glared. “Get your own, this one's mine.”

The vodka helped.

“Get as much of it into him as you can, then get him into his car and get the bottle out of the glove compartment and put it in his lap.”

“How do you know he has a bottle in the glove compartment?”

She took another long comforting drink and shrugged, the warm car against the back almost making up for the gravel digging into her butt. “People talk. Next person out will find him, assume he went on a bender, and deal.”

“I never knew.”

“The one thing alcoholics excel at is hiding; hiding what they are, what they do, what it's doing to them.”

“But right now he's okay?”

About to snap out something rude, Arra took a closer look at Tony's face and reconsidered. He honestly cared. “Probably.” It was the closest to reassurance she could manage, but it seemed to be enough. She watched as Tony handed the last cup of potion to Hartley and let him drink it himself, watched him help the boom operator into the front seat, watched him lean in, and saw him emerge a moment later with a set of car keys that he dropped and kicked under the car. She winced as he slammed the door. Everything had gone a little fuzzy and she was beginning to get remarkably cold.

The vodka was good, though.

Tony's shadow stopped about a quarter inch from her leg. She looked up to see Tony looking down at her.

“We should go.”

She snorted as he took her thermos and screwed the cap back on, his shadow waiting impassively for him to finish. “I should have gone a long time ago.”

Arra wasn't exactly a dead weight as Tony helped her into the passenger seat of her car, but she wasn't light either. Not muscular, but solid. Heavier than she looked. He thought about making a “weight of the world” crack, but the smell of vodka combined with the distinctly lighter thermos decided him against it.

Besides, if anyone was holding the weight of the world, it was him.

Like she keeps saying . . .
He fastened her seat belt, closed the door, and walked around to the driver's side.
. . . it's not even her world.

If not those exact words, something like that.

As he pulled out of the parking lot, she unscrewed the thermos and took another drink. He thought about protesting, but figured the alcohol was more legal in her than in an unsealed container—just in case.

Traffic was light heading back into the city. He could feel her watching him, but he kept his eyes on the road. Still, the watching reminded him of something.

“Arra? You said you were there last night, watching in the soundstage, because you needed to know. What did you need to know?”

He started to think she'd fallen asleep by the time she answered. “I needed to know if you'd fight without me.”

“Oh.”

He fought the urge to speed up as another car pulled out to pass and then slowed to let it back into the lane.
Easy enough to fight without you,
he said silently.
You're not fighting!
Then he frowned and remembered how she'd looked at the back door, and how she'd made it to the parking lot and, running on empty, had still vanquished the shadow.

Maybe there was more than one fight going on.

L
AID OUT fully clothed on her bed under a fuzzy blanket stamped with a Hilton Hotel imprint, Arra muttered an incoherent protest and immediately went to sleep. Both cats made wide circles around Tony, then leaped up onto the bed and settled on either side of the wizard, matching glares and lashing tails making it quite clear they thought he had no business being there.

Which, he supposed, he didn't.

On the other hand, he had a strong feeling he had to stay hidden. Remembering the feeling of being watched as he stood under the gate, he could only hope that the whole shadow-stained thing wasn't equivalent to a big neon sign—
In case of invasion break this guy.
And there were still three shadows on the loose. Arra's apartment felt safe.

His stomach growled.

Ears saddled, Zazu growled an answer.

Because he didn't feel right about raiding Arra's fridge, he slipped her keys into his pocket and headed out looking for food. The hall was empty. He moved quickly and quietly toward the elevator. The general paranoia might be undefined, but
this
, this was specific. The last person he wanted to explain himself to was Julian-from-across-the-hall as he had a strong suspicion that Julian would consider three visits grounds for assigning chores.

The elevator gave him a few bad moments, the word “weak” repeating itself over and over in his head.
Weak? Trapped, I could understand.
He squinted around the tiny, brightly lit space made even more claustrophobic by all the highly polished surfaces. Still, given the way
eau de disinfectant
seemed to be replacing a good part of the oxygen, maybe weak wasn't that surprising.

Crossing the co-op's lobby gave him no problems.

He paused on the threshold, strangely unwilling to step outside.

Three mountain bikers rode by closely followed by a skateboarder and two preteens on in-line skates. It was the kind of early spring day that made Vancouverites, who conveniently forgot the 250 days of rain a year, unbearably smug about their weather—winds off the ocean had blown away clouds and pollutants and the sun shone brilliantly down through a crystal clear sky. Micas in the concrete sparkled and the city gleamed.

No shadows, at least none that weren't the result of a solid object blocking the sun, and no Shadowlord.
There's nothing out there waiting for me except lunch.

Heart pounding, he took a fast step, almost a hop, over the threshold.

Nothing happened, but the feeling of being watched remained.

Fine. He'd grab food and he'd head right back to Arra's apartment. Sighing at his interior drama queen, he glanced back at his shadow, still lying predominantly in the co-op lobby, and muttered, “Come on, then!”

All things considered, he was relieved when it followed.

A thousand voices cried, “Save us! Save us! You are our only hope!” Hands clutched at her, desperate fingers shredding clothing and the skin beneath it. She was drowning in their need. They were pulling her under. How could she save them when she couldn't save herself
from
them?

The cats were still on Arra's bed when he returned and they stayed there while he ate, watched some golf—the one thing on television he was sure wouldn't wake the wizard—and worked his way through five days of the
Vancouver Sun
. He didn't usually read newspapers, he just didn't have the time and from the pristine folds, he guessed Arra's time had been a bit short lately, too.
Wouldn't want to cut into all that spider solitaire . . .

It seemed to be business as usual in the lower mainland.

While he hadn't been expecting to see SHADOWS STALK CITY in banner headlines, it was weird to think he was one of only three people who knew of the danger and if he told anyone what he knew, told them that two people were dead because of shadows slipping through from another world, they wouldn't believe him. Not without having seen the things he'd seen. Done the things he'd done. Known the people he knew.