He fought to keep the Hunger from showing, but it was still too close to the surface. Tina had helped but not enough.

“Nightwalker.” One finger flipped a strand of his hair back and forth. “This one doesn’t believe in you, but I wouldn’t be too upset about that since she doesn’t believe in me either. It’s all metaphors and symbolism in here.” The plastic raincoat crinkled as she leaned forward, one hand going to the floor beside his head to keep from overbalancing. “What’s it like in there, I wonder? I imagine you’ve got a better grip on what’s real. Shall we find out? Besides, it’s always smartest to take over the strong. Makes it harder for the weak to stop you.”

From the corner of one eye, Henry noticed a patch of darkness under the huge rectory table. Dark enough? Only one way to find out. Rolling seemed to be his only option.

“Oh, no, you . . .”

He was under the table before she finished her protest. He felt the binding ease—apparently it was just dark enough—and he ripped his way free; aware he was snarling as he got to his feet but not really caring.

Her lip curled in answer. “A creature of darkness fighting for the light? That’s not how it works where I come from.”

“It’s how it works here.”

She flashed him a cheeky smile and turned to run; Chase me, chase me! so strongly implied she might as well have shouted it aloud. Henry held the hunter in check, dodged the cast shadow she was attempting to distract him from, and stood in front of her before she could turn again. “Apparently my kind move slower where you come from.”

She stiffened in his grip, her eyes staring at nothing as the shadow within her began to rip free.

Vibration in blood and bone announced the opening of the gate.

“Henry! Close your eyes!”

Even through closed lids the world turned a brilliant white. Tears streaming down his cheeks, Henry threw the girl forward, dropped to his knees and buried his face in his arms.

After a long moment, the light turned off.

“It’s okay. You can look up now.” Figuring Henry could take care of himself, Tony ran across the set toward Kate Anderson’s crumpled body. She was Mouse’s focus puller and that was the only thing Tony knew about her. Muttering, “Not again!” over and over like a mantra against a worst-case scenario, he dropped to his knees, rolled her onto her back, and felt for a heartbeat. Lost it in the screaming pain still vibrating his skull. Found it again.

“She’s alive.”

“Yeah.” Tugging the raincoat back into place, he looked up at Henry. “Why did you throw her?”