Smoke and Shadows (27 page)

He was fast. It was faster.

Did it know what he was? Would it be able to control him? From the look of things, it was going to have a damned good try at it. If it succeeded, a shadow-held Nightwalker would be able to destroy this small resistance.

As darkness swarmed up Henry's body, Arra reacted. The questions and the commentary shut off and her hands rose. She'd cast the incantation countless times in the last futile attempt, it wasn't one she was ever likely to forget.

The shadow froze, twisted in on itself, and vanished with a soft
sputz
.

Moving quickly, before the questions had a chance to start up again, she jogged across the empty set to Mouse's side, the rubber soles of her sneakers squealing against the floor. She dropped to her knees, and, grabbing two handfuls of his jacket, heaved him over onto his back. As his head bounced once against the floor, his eyes opened.

“You!”

“Me,” she agreed and drove her hand wrist-deep into his chest. Only the element of surprise gave the maneuver any chance at all, and for a moment she was afraid surprise wouldn't be enough. Then her searching fingers closed. Leaning back on her heels, she hauled the shadow clear, flinging it free and destroying it in the same movement.

If asked, she'd have had to say that final
sputz
was one of the most satisfying sounds she'd heard in the last seven years.

Except that no one was asking.

When she turned, it was to see Henry crouched in front of Tony, one pale hand extended. To her surprise, Tony flinched back from his touch.

“Not yours,” he said hoarsely. “My own!”

The Nightwalker nodded. “I know.”

And then they both pretended to believe it.

Holding in the hurt, Tony remembered. Lee hadn't remembered—maybe because the shadow had left him, not been puked out—but Tony did. Remembered how it felt to be trapped in the back of his own head, able to feel his body, to know it was his, but to have no control over it. He felt it move, heard it speak, and could do nothing to prevent either. It threw him back to his worst times on the street, when he was young and new and too stupid to run. He couldn't win if he fought and screaming made no difference because no one would hear him. He'd learned to hide, to just let things happen.

Maybe that was why he remembered; because he'd been there before.

Christ, he hurt. Ribs, back, arms, legs, brain . . .

When Henry stood, he almost laughed. Henry standing. Him on his knees. That final “MINE!” still sounded with every beat of his heart and resounded at every pulse point. The barely healed bite on his wrist throbbed.

It didn't help that Henry's Prince of Darkness face was essentially the same face he wore for everyday. Nothing changed; no bumpy foreheads, no road map of veins, just a thin veneer of civilization over a primal Hunger. A Hunger that seduced even as it devoured.

The seduction frightened Tony more than the Hunger. Even shadow-held, he'd responded. Death had called in its marker and his answer had been to evict the current possessor, acknowledging the earlier claim. He was alive because Henry wanted him alive. He'd die when Henry decided it was time. Sure, that applied to pretty much everyone who shared a vampire's territory, but he
knew
it. Personally. Hell, Biblically. He bit his lip to keep from laughing. If he started, he doubted he'd be able to stop.

Henry would never let him go.

As unpleasant as the implications were, bottom line, it had saved him.

Right on cue, Henry held out a hand.

Tony forced himself not to flinch back again.

“Tony?”

He understood the question Henry was asking. Were they okay? He supposed it depended on the definition of okay. Henry's mask was back in place so, honestly, had anything changed? Same mask as he'd been wearing, covering the same power. And the shadow was gone. And it wasn't like that whole possessive thing should be a surprise.
And fuck, Tony, stop fucking thinking so goddamned much!

It all came down to trust, really, and if he trusted Henry enough to let him open a vein and drink, then he might as well keep trusting him to not abuse the power that gave him.

Not to abuse it much, anyway.

Unwrapping his right arm from around his stomach, he gripped Henry's cold fingers and allowed the vampire to pull him to his feet. “We're cool.” He turned to Arra before Henry could respond. Further conversation on the topic was way more than he wanted to face. “How's Mouse?”

She looked up, liquid continuing to dribble from a thermos cap down between Mouse's lips. “Well, I'm no doctor, but I think his jaw's broken.”

“Broken?”

“Interesting purple knot coming up on one side, too.” Her lip curled slightly. “You don't know your own strength, Nightwalker.”

Tony had no need to turn to know that Henry's lip had curled in answer.

“Yes,” he said. “I do.”

Arra's gaze flickered between the two men, settled on Tony, and she made a speculative noise that could have referred to anything. Setting the plastic cap on the broad shelf of Mouse's chest, she reached down into her pocket and pulled out a second thermos. “Here, get some of this down you.”

She tossed it in a slow, underhanded lob, but Tony couldn't seem to get his arms to move away from his body. An inch from impact, Henry bent and scooped it from the air.

“You'd make a hell of a shortstop.”

Henry grinned as he placed the thermos in Tony's hands. “Only for night games.”

“Well, yeah.” As long as they could play the denial game, they were maintaining a version of same old/same old. Same old/same old was doable. He looked dubiously at the thermos. “Is this . . . ?”

Arra snorted. “Yes.”

“I'm fine.”

“Drink some anyway.”

“But I was only a minion for like a really short time and . . .” A sudden memory of being trapped and helpless, of being used. He came back to himself as Henry wrapped his fingers securely around slick curves of orange plastic. He didn't think he reacted, but Henry backed away.

Giving him space. And a thermos top filled with magic potion. It smelled exactly like he remembered.

It tasted pretty much like it smelled, like a cocktail for alcoholic cats. He'd had worse but not recently and he was out of practice.

“It doesn't do any good coming back up your nose,” Arra snapped as he choked and coughed. “You have to swallow it.”

He flipped her off with his free hand—at this point he honestly didn't give a crap about being rude—and took another mouthful. It didn't taste any better, but after the fourth mouthful the vodka started numbing things out. A little. “How much . . . ?”

“Drain the cup.”

“All of it?”

“Isn't that what drain means?”

“Give me a break,” he muttered, wondering if the tip of his nose was supposed to be tingling, “I've had a rough night.”

“And it's not over.”

“Fucking great.”

Hands shoved in the pockets of his coat, Henry took a step closer to the wizard. “So, you're involved now.”

“I'm . . .”

“The shadow in Tony said you were unfinished business. That his master would be thrilled to know where you were after all this time. And the one in . . .” His gesture took in the fallen cameraman. “. . . knew you.”

“Would be thrilled,” Arra repeated, screwing the cap back onto the thermos and sitting back on her heels. “
Knew
me, past tense. Both shadows have been destroyed, so no information's going back through the gate. No one's going to be thrilled on my account.”

“But it seemed to know you'd be here.”

“Well, of course, it knew. As Tony pointed out,” she added wearily, “I'm the one who opened the original gate. The son of bitch found this world by using my research.”

“It said you were unfinished business.”

She shrugged. “Who likes loose ends?”

“Your hand was in his chest.”

The non sequitur seemed to throw her for a moment, then she snorted. “You saw that, did you?”

As far as Tony could see, Mouse's chest looked pretty much like it had all night. Okay, the horizontal part was new, but other than that, big and plaid pretty much covered it. “You had your hand in his chest?”

“I had the essence of my hand in the essence of his chest. I reached into the place where the shadows have substance and we don't.”

“How . . . ?”

“Clean living.” Raincoat crinkling, she got slowly to her feet, her opinion of the question clear.

“Look, magic might be the obvious answer where you come from, but it isn't here.” Tony swallowed the last of the potion and belched. A spray of tiny green sparkles danced in front of his face. “Not usually, anyhow.” The world tilted slightly sideways. “I think I need to sit down.” The floor seemed like the best option. It was close and he'd already proved that he could hit it. His legs folded. Another belch. More tiny sparkles.

“Is it the shadow?” Henry's face swam in and out of focus.

Tony stretched out a finger and poked him in the cheek. “The objects in your mirror may be closer than they appear.”

“What?”

“I'm guessing it's the eight ounces of warm vodka.” He poked him again. “I'm fine.”

Henry straightened. All he could do at this point was believe him. “Will there be others tonight?” he asked the wizard.

“Other shadows returning?” She glanced toward the ceiling and although Henry heard her heart speed up, there was no outward manifestation of her fear. “Could be, but I doubt it. These seem to be the extended wear version, good for a few days. And if you're right and they've been sent purposefully to look for the . . .” She sketched a set of air quotes. “. . . light, then they'll stay as long as they can.”

“What was the waiting one waiting for?” When both wizard and vampire turned to look down at him, Tony waved. “There was one in Mouse and one waiting here by the gate.”

Arra frowned. “I'd guess it was guarding the gate—the gate was open when you destroyed the shadow last night. The Shadowlord probably felt it die and wanted to make sure that wouldn't happen again.”

Tony's eyes widened as sudden realization dawned. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times and then he said, “I killed . . .”

“No, you didn't.” Arra cut him off. “They're pieces of the Shadowlord, of the evil he has become. They have no life, no sense of self, until they imprint with a host. You destroyed a tool. A weapon. A thing, not a person.”

“Oh.” He rubbed his fingertips along the painted floor. “That's okay, then.”

Pulling Henry to one side, Arra leaned close to his ear and murmured, “Look, you stay here with him and deal with whatever shows up, and I'll take Mouse to a hospital. He smells like a vodka-catnip cocktail and he's clearly been fighting, so there shouldn't be any questions I can't deal with.”

“Given your ability to banish the shadows; shouldn't you be the one who stays?”

“First, I'm obviously not the one who hit him. They might not believe that so easily of you. Second, you haul that light stand around and you can banish them just as easily. You already have. Third, there's no point in chancing me so close to the gate. If the Shadowlord knows I'm here . . .”

About to ask,
He'll what?
Henry changed his mind at her expression. Or rather her lack of expression; in all his long life, he'd never seen anyone so desperate to hide her true feelings. There would be a time of reckoning between them but not now, not with innocents needing their attention. “You can drive?”

“I can ride the heart of the whirlwind secured in place with a rope braided from the dreams of trees.”

“That's not what I asked.”

She rolled her eyes. “How hard can it be?” A raised hand cut off Henry's reply. “Kidding. Of course I can drive. I live in downtown Vancouver and I work in Burnaby—only the young have the kind of stamina commuting by transit requires.” A glance down at Tony and then over to Mouse. “Carry him out to the car for me, Henry, time's wasting.”

Still on the floor, Tony watched Henry follow Arra out of the soundstage, Mouse's large body cradled ludicrously against his.
He says he's coming back,
he reminded himself.
Don't get rid of a vampire that easily.

Don't get rid of a vampire at all.

His head felt like the city was doing road repairs across his cerebral cortex. Jackhammers, hot tar, the whole nine yards. As far as he could tell, it was the potion's only effect. Even the alcohol seemed to be wearing off. If he poked at the right place, he remembered how it felt as the shadow shoved him to the back of his own mind . . .

A deep breath and he got to his feet, just as glad he was doing it out from under Henry's watchful gaze. He couldn't have really indulged in the wincing and the groaning with Henry there.

He was unlocking the wheels of the carbon arc's stand when Henry returned. “This thing's worth a fortune,” he said, motioning Henry around to the other side. “The security around here sucks.”

“That thought had crossed my mind, not the price of the lamp but definitely the sucking.”

Tony pointed and Henry rolled the heavy lamp back where it had been on the edge of the set.

“When you were asking Arra . . .” He stopped and started again. “Do you think the Shadowlord is looking for Arra, specifically?”