“Stop apologizing and pay attention. You know how Peter feels about fans in the studio, so this has to go smoothly or we’re all in for an unpleasant afternoon.”

“Uh, Arra needs me to do some stuff for her this morning.”

“I heard. Just don’t leave the fan club unattended. I can’t think of anything worse than another fan getting locked in Mason’s coffin.”

Unfortunately, Tony could.

Three of the games had been stopped by fours. Fixed opinions will hinder your process. What was she missing? What was she fixating on? On the other screen, two black jacks prevented her from making the last move that would finish the game.

“This is ridiculous!” Arra shoved her chair out from the desk hard enough to roll her halfway across the workshop. “I might as well try to divine the future from a bowl of instant oatmeal.”

Her stomach growled. Desperately trying to discover the source of her unease—although unease was far too mild a word for the feelings of doom filling her head like toxic smoke—she’d skipped breakfast. It was possible that hunger was distracting her just enough to keep her from making sense of the cards.

Possible. But not likely.

She’d been able to cast auguries right until the end, unheeding of the destruction raining down around her. She’d seen the fate of the city and of the wizards. She’d known there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Nothing.

But here and now they hadn’t reached nothing—although they would.

Here and now, she needed to identify just what was going wrong.

If memory served, the Rice-Krispie square she’d grabbed from the craft services table last week should still be in her desk drawer. It wasn’t exactly food, but it was as close as she could get without going upstairs.

Slowly chewing the first bite—slowly because the square had solidified into a substance that defied speed, Arra cleared all screens but one. Maybe if she concentrated on a single game . . .

Two black jacks.

And again.

Sucking the last bit of marshmallow off a corner of the plastic wrap, she scowled down at the clock on the corner of the screen. 11:02 A.M. The gate would open soon and the last shadow would make a move for home. The light would destroy it. It knew it was the last on this world, but would he know as he . . .

Plastic hanging limply from a corner of her mouth, Arra stared at the monitor.

Two black jacks.

There were two shadows left on this world.

Not one.

Two.

Somehow, one of them had escaped her spell. Exactly how wasn’t important right now, she had to warn Tony.

But the gate was about to open.

If both shadows were there . . .

If he needed help stopping them . . .

If she went to the gate . . .

But if she didn’t . . .