Smoke and Shadows (39 page)

Eyes rolling, Tony tossed the last paper aside. Right. The people he knew . . .

Fortunately, a snort from the bedroom saved him from having to come up with a punch line.

Cats winding around her feet, Arra stumbled out into the living room, glowered at him for a long moment from under lowered brows, and finally snapped, “Make coffee!” before turning on one heel, going back into the bedroom, and slamming the door.

Tony did as he was told.

“There's three shadows left and we have seven hours until the gate reopens. You've been very lucky so far, but there's nothing to say all three of them won't show up together and I can think of any number of ways that they can stop you.”

So could Tony.

“Finding them and stopping them individually before they get to the gate was a smart plan. Is still a smart plan. We need to pursue it.”

“Are you strong enough?” There were still dark circles under her eyes and the skin on the backs of her hands looked thin and translucent.

“In spite of the morning's evidence, I know how to marshal my power.” Sitting at the tiny kitchen table, Arra held out her mug. “I will find them, I will destroy the shadow, and you will do everything else,” she announced as Tony refilled it.

“Uh . . . You'll need to make more potion.”

“Fine!
And
I'll make more potion.” She nodded toward the living room. “Bring me my Yellow Pages. But first put a bagel in the toaster oven.”

Apparently
everything else
meant everything else.

One of the shadows was at Richmond Nanak Sar Gursikh Temple on Westminster Highway.

Holding the phone book entry in one hand, Arra sifted through the ashes with the other and sighed. “We need to find another phone book.”

“No shit.”

“No time to waste,” the wizard added pointedly.

Which was when Tony realized
he
had to find another phone book.

“There should be one up in the party room. Sixth floor.”

Even better. “You want me to steal the Yellow Pages out of your co-op's party room so that you can destroy them?”

“So that I can use them to discover the location of a shadow-held.” She dusted the ash off her fingers. “A shadow-held that might be held by
the
shadow-spy that takes the information back through the gate that convinces the Shadowlord to invade and destroy your world. Yes.”

“Yeah. All right. Perspective; I get it.” Wondering when they'd started calling them shadow-spies—
Like shadows alone aren't enough?
—he headed for the door, dancing sideways as Zazu hissed at him.

“What did you do to my cat?”

It had to be the attempted drag out from under the couch. Clearly, Zazu was holding a grudge. “Nothing.”

He heard Arra snort as the door closed behind him. She was the wizard; if she wanted to know, she could ask the cat. Stepping out of Arra's apartment didn't seem to have the same emotional effect as it had earlier. He felt . . .

Tony frowned. Actually, the feeling of safety had vanished about the time Arra woke up, and he'd felt antsy ever since. Doing her wizardship's bidding had masked it, but now that he had nothing to occupy his mind, it was hard to ignore. The empty hall felt crowded with indefinable dangers and during the short walk to the elevator, he kept spinning around, certain someone or something was walking behind him, treading on his shadow.

There was never anything there
but
his shadow, clinging to his heels as if it, too, was sensitive to whatever the hell was going on. The elevator was just as distressing as it had been earlier. Squinting, Tony pressed the button for the sixth floor and hoped the shadow-stain wasn't somehow making him sensitive to light.

Or Henry . . .

Henry had been feeding from him off and on for the last five years. More off than on lately, but still . . . Were there cumulative effects? He ran his tongue over his teeth. They didn't feel any sharper. Mythically—and Tony'd made a point of checking out the myths way back when—it didn't work that way, but Henry'd always insisted that the myths were flawed. Insisted without specifying exactly what the flaws were.

Was he changing?

Oh, get the fuck over yourself
, he snarled silently as the elevator doors opened.
There isn't enough shit going on, you have to come up with new crap?

At just past five on a sunny Sunday afternoon, the party room was empty. He could hear two people talking out on the deck, but a row of trees in pots blocked the view through the window and the phone books were stacked in a pale bookcase by the door—the perfect setup to grab and go without being seen. Yellow Pages for Vancouver and the lower mainland in hand, Tony wasted a moment checking out the room. About 99% certain Arra still hadn't cleaned it, he figured someone else must have because it looked spotless. Blue—carpet, walls, upholstery—but spotless.

If anything, he was feeling even more freaky riding down in the elevator. Maybe it was guilt although, given his life prior to Henry, he somehow doubted it. Lifting a set of Yellow Pages would easily be among the least of his crimes.

Massive tome tucked under one arm in an effort to be as inconspicuous as possible, he stepped out through the elevator's opening door and into a barrage of sound.

“Hush, Moira! Quiet, girl!”

Although still safely tethered in Julian's arms, the Chihuahua was making it perfectly clear that if Tony wanted to get any farther into the hall, he'd have to pass her. Ears ringing, Tony gave some serious thought to doggie-flavored chalupas and stepped sideways.

Julian stepped with him, the dog continuing to yap hysterically. “You're that friend of Arra's.”

“Yeah. So?”

“So tell her that common room isn't going to clean itself!”

“Sure.” Tony suspected that if Arra wanted it to, the common room wouldn't only clean itself, it'd take itself out for dinner and a movie.

“And tell her . . .” He pushed his voice through Moira's continuing protest. “. . . that I
will
bring this up with the Borg!”

The Borg? That put a whole new slant on co-op management.

“And I guarantee the board will have something to say to her!”

Oh. The board. Not nearly as interesting. Holding the phone book like he had every right to it, Tony put his back to the wall and managed to slide past. Twisting in Julian's arms, Moira's eyes never left him although the high-pitched barking was mercifully replaced by a low growl, the vibration causing her substantial jowls to quiver. It seemed she had better phone book sense than her owner.

Julian's high forehead started to crease.

Or maybe not.

He clearly knew something was wrong and it would only be a matter of moments before he figured out what. Time for a major distraction.

“You're an actor, aren't you? I can tell by the way you use your voice.” Smiling insincerely, Tony cranked the bullshit up to full power. Two syllable ac-tors were the most susceptible to unsubstantiated hope. “I work out at CB Productions, in Burnaby—we do
Darkest Night
, the highest rated syndicated vampire detective show in North America—and we're always looking for new faces. You know, people who haven't already cropped up in every show shooting out here? You should stop by sometime. Talk to Peter—he does most of the casting.”

“I'm theater mostly . . . Moira, quiet!”

“Sure, but there's no harm in making some solid cash to help support the arts, right?” His reaching fingers touched Arra's door. Just another few inches . . .

“Well, I was critically acclaimed for my Mustardseed at Vanier Park last year when Bard in the Park did—Moira, shut up!—
Midsummer Night's Dream
.”

“Great. Experience.” Three fingers hooked around the doorknob. “Peter loves Shakespeare. Hope to see you out there!” He was inside before Julian could reply, a final volley of yipping sounding through the door.

“What was that all about?” Arra called from the kitchen.

“Moira objected to me stealing the phone book.”

“Fortunately, Moira's small enough to punt down the hall, but how did you keep Julian from calling the police?”

“He never noticed. He had his dick in a knot about you blowing off the party room and then I . . .” Tony flushed as Arra turned from stirring the potion and raised a speculative brow. “Nothing like that. I just told him he should stop by the studio sometime and talk to Peter, him being an ac-tor and all.”

“Oh, Peter's going to love that.”

“Two people are dead. If these shadows get back through the gate, more people will die.” The phone book slammed down on the counter. “Besides, you keep saying the Shadowlord can't be stopped. With any luck, we'll be ass-deep in Armageddon before he gets there.”

She looked at him strangely for a long moment.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

It was obviously something, but Tony didn't bother pushing. Arra's explanations never actually explained anything and he had enough unanswered questions already on his plate.

The second shadow was at the South Delta Baptist Church.

“They're widening their search.”

“Yeah.” Tony stared at the scrap of yellow paper. “Where the hell is Tsawassen?”

“About half an hour south of the city, very nearly at the US border. Now, we'll need one more phone book.”

“No.” He shook his head, addresses laid out on the table. “This first one, the temple? It's in Richmond. That's south of the city. Then this one is farther south. What's to say that when you did this first one that's where the shadow
was
and now it's here, at this one? It moved while I was finding the book.”

“It doesn't work that way.”

“Yeah, but . . .”

“That's not the way the spell works. I ask where I can find the shadow and this . . . these . . . are the answers.”

“I get that; but time has passed. So, logically . . .”

Arra snorted. “And how long have
you
been doing this?”

“What?”

“Because I've been doing it for a while now and I know what the hell I'm talking about.” She handed him the pair of thermoses. “Put these away and let's go.”

But he noticed she didn't ask again for a third phone book.

Children raced around the small groups of adults standing outside the Nanak Sar Gursikh Temple—something family oriented had obviously just finished. Tony parked carefully, then reached over and shook Arra awake.