“A dream. It was just a dream.” And fuck but his subconscious was anything but subtle. He swallowed, suddenly felt trapped in the enclosed space of the apartment and staggered around the pull-out couch to the window where he threw back the curtains and squinted up at an overcast sky. It was threatening rain.

And that was normal enough that he managed to get his breathing under control.

A walk to the bathroom to empty his bladder helped and by the time he’d flushed and washed his hands, he walked to the refrigerator feeling almost normal. Well, as normal as he ever felt first thing in the morning.

Opening the fridge, he leaned in, grabbed the bomb bottle of cola off the top shelf, and twisted off the cap. A quick taste determined it was flat but not totally undrinkable. Besides, neither the caffeine nor the sugar was in the bubbles.

Bottle tipped back, feeling more human with every swallow, Tony closed the fridge door and screamed. Unfortunately, that resulted in rather a lot of flat cola going back up his nose. Once he’d finished with the coughing and the choking, he stared across the room with various liquids dripping from every facial orifice.

Arra was still sitting on his only chair.

Suddenly remembering he was naked, he rather belatedly moved the bottle in front of his crotch. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

She stared at him blankly and he realized she was wearing the exact same clothing she’d had on the day before. Not good. Not good at all.

“I don’t know.”

It took him a moment to figure out that she was answering his question. “You don’t know why you’re here?” he asked shuffling forward until he could squat down and grab a pair of jeans off the floor.

“I don’t know why I didn’t just keep going.”

“Right.” Personal modesty had already gone to hell so Tony set the bottle on the counter and shrugged into his jeans, turning around to tuck himself inside. A careful closure—because getting caught in the zipper would make the morning even more special—and he felt a little better prepared to face his uninvited guest. “So . . .” He faced her again with studied nonchalance. “Am I talking to the wizard or the shadow operating the wizard?”

That elicited a bleak smile. “If I was shadow-held, would I tell you?”

“Yeah, well, so far, shadows . . .” The edge of the counter pressed into his back and his right hand closed around the handle of the silverware drawer. He was pretty sure not everything in it was plastic. “. . . big on the bwahaha.”

“On the what?”

“They gloat.”

“Ah. Yes, they do. They didn’t used to.” She closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, her expression was strangely familiar. “They used to stay hidden, doing as much damage as they could for as long as they remained undiscovered.”