I clicked myself on from head to toe, hurried to the panel, and began flipping off the interior lights in the front part of the bookstore. Not the exterior ones, just the interior. Even though I knew the building was still surrounded in light outside, it was hard to make myself do it. My fear of the darkness had grown beyond a rational thing. That happens when you know a shadow can eat you alive if you touch it.

My hand hesitated over the last row of switches for a long, difficult moment.

But I had my MacHalo, and I knew it would work. If I gave fear a toehold, it would screw me. I’d learned that lesson from Barrons, and had it driven home by Mallucé: Hope strengthens. Fear kills.

I flipped off the last row, plunging the bookstore into complete darkness.

I blazed as bright as a small sun in the room!

I laughed. I should have thought of it before. There wasn’t an inch of me, not a centimeter, that wasn’t lit up. My halo radiated outward a good ten feet in all directions. And I was right; if I had the courage, I could walk right through a Shade-wall. None of the vampiric life-suckers could get close to me in this getup!

My iPod began playing “Bad Moon Rising” by Creedence Clearwater Revival, and I did a little dance, giddy with success. I had one more weapon in my arsenal to make me safer, and I’d thought of it myself.

I whirled around the bookstore, miming the epic fighter I was now going to be, armed with my clever MacHalo, no longer afraid of dark alleys in the night. I leapt chairs and darted around bookcases. I pounced sofas, I hurdled ottomans. I stabbed imaginary enemies, immune to Shade-danger by the brilliance of my own invention. There’s not much room in my life for good, plain, stupid fun, and there hasn’t been much to celebrate lately. I take advantage of both when I can.

“ ‘Hope you got your things together,’ ” I sang, stabbing a pillow with my spear. Feathers exploded into the air. “ ‘Hope you are quite prepared to die!’ ” I spun in a dazzling whirl of lights, landed a killer back-kick on a phantom Shade, and simultaneously punched the magazine rack. “ ‘Looks like we’re in for nasty weather! ‘“ I took a swan dive at a short, imaginary Shade, lunged up at a taller one—

—and froze.

Barrons stood inside the front door, dripping cool old-world elegance.

I hadn’t heard him come in over the music. He was leaning, shoulder against the wall, arms folded, watching me.