“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.

“The Light of Yeramathia!”

“Okay.”

She blinked up at him, the edges of her eyes pink and swollen. “What did I say?”

He told her, then asked what it meant.

Arra snorted as she straightened and unbuckled her seat belt. “It means nothing. It was hope that became a lie.”

Since this was about as clear as her explanations usually got, Tony merely shrugged and stepped out onto the sidewalk looking for someone he knew. Someone who’d been on Arra’s short list of the potential shadow-held. He looked for Dalal first, figuring that since the prop man was Sikh, this would logically be one of the places where he’d look for the light.

Yeah, like logic has anything to do with my world . . .

Barking drew his attention to the temple parking lot where an elderly man, who was definitely not Sikh and had probably just been out for an early evening walk, was attempting to control his dog. Breeds didn’t mean a lot to Tony; dogs came either large enough to avoid or small enough to ignore and this was one of the former. And then he noticed who the dog was barking at.

Ben Ward, one of the lighting crew.

Also not Sikh and looking like he hadn’t been home in nearly forty-eight hours.

“Arra?”

“I see him. Let’s go.”

He glanced over at her. “Let’s go? You make it sound like we’re in an episode of Law and Order: Magic and Mayhem.”

“Don’t laugh.” She started across the grass. “They pitched it.”

Actually, Tony wasn’t laughing. “What exactly are we about to do?”

“I get close enough to haul the shadow out of him, then I destroy it.”

“That’s what you’re about to do.”

“While you make with the potion and come up with a plausible story.”

“Story?”

“For the three dozen or so witnesses.”

“Right.”