Too early for air-conditioning, too warm for heat, the air inside the church still had a filtered feel in the back of Tony’s throat. It smelled of cleansers—although not as overwhelmingly as Arra’s co-op—and faintly of aftershave and perfume. “I don’t like leaving Ben in the car.”

“He won’t wake up until I tell him to.”

“So remember to save enough power to play alarm clock.”

“I know what I’m doing, Tony.”

“I’m just saying . . .”

“I know what you’re saying. Stop it.”

He shrugged and stepped away from the women’s washroom. Right inside the west doors, it hadn’t been hard to find. “I’ll wait here.”

“Fine.” One hand against the wall, Arra disappeared from view.

It was obvious she still hadn’t recovered from her reckless use of power. No, not reckless, Tony amended, leaning against the wall. Thoughtless. As in, she didn’t think about it. Her reaction to being touched by the shadow had been essentially hysterical. Run and react; no thought for the consequences. And physical exhaustion often led to emotional exhaustion—thus the doom and gloom announcement in the car.

It all made sense.

They were winning. They had to be winning.

He tensed as voices sounded in the distance, but they headed in another direction and he relaxed again. And then he frowned. Was Arra taking longer than she should? Definitely longer than a guy would. How long did women take? He couldn’t shake the feeling that she might have done a bunk and climbed out the window. Be halfway to Seattle and a new identity by now.

With a glance around the hall to make sure he wasn’t observed, he pushed the door open a crack and heard, “You!” followed by a familiar string of nonsense syllables, and a soft sputz.

“Arra?”

“Better get in here with that potion.”

He took two steps farther into the washroom and peered around a cinder-block corner. Women’s washrooms definitely smelled better than men’s. Arra was at a line of stainless steel sinks washing her hands. Lying stretched out on the floor was one of the girls from the catering company.

“Shadow-held?”

Arra snorted. “Not anymore.”

“We forgot about the caterers when we made the list.” Dropping to the floor, he lifted her head up against his leg. “They must’ve been setting up for lunch.”

“Lunch.” Red-rimmed eyes snapped open. “Do we always have to have lasagna? I am so tired of making lasagna!”

“Hey, it’s okay.” The potion sparkled as it dribbled between her lips.

She swallowed, looked up at him and said, “Three kinds of cookies are quite enough. There’s cake.” Another half a dozen small swallows. “Fifteen hundred bottles of water a month.”

“That’s a lot of water.”

Her brows drew in as she finished the last of the potion in the cup. “Who the hell are you?”