“Right.” Like that made it better. Tony shifted the bat to his other hand and wiped his sweaty palm against his jeans. “You know, this morning Arra was all ready to rush in and take her bat to the shadow-held. I wonder how she would have explained it, you know, after, while she was standing over the body. I mean, you can’t call smacking a coworker with a Louisville Slugger a special effect.”

“She probably didn’t even consider that.” He could hear the smile in Henry’s observation. “She thought you were in danger and she rushed in.”

“Using up her entire stock of helping out.” Tony, on the other hand, wasn’t smiling.

“Did she tell you she wasn’t going to stand against the Shadowlord?”

“Well, yeah. Right from the start she said she wouldn’t face him.”

“And in the beginning she said she wouldn’t help, but she has.”

“As long as it was at no risk to her; she’s always planned to run.”

He felt Henry shrug. “Plans change.”

“I can’t believe you’re defending her. She’s not here, is she?”

“No. She’s not here.”

“A minute ago you were all pissed off because she’d attacked me.”

“The two things are unconnected.”

Tony opened his mouth and closed it again, sputtering slightly as the dozen or so things he could say to that got tangled on the way out. When it seemed as though he’d been listening to nothing but his own ragged breathing for half an hour he muttered, “What time is it now?”

“11:17.”

“Is that all?” And then he realized. “No gate.”

“Apparently not. I suspect our enemy has things to prepare.”

That sounded reasonable. Not in the least comforting, or encouraging, but reasonable. “Why face you when he can come through in the morning when you’re out of it.”

“Why, indeed.”

“He can come through in the morning when it’s just me.” And as long as they were speculating . . . Tony lined up another couple of points as Henry moved the lamp back by the light board and rolled the cables. “He’s got to have learned that it’s harder for us to stop them when we’re shooting. All those people hanging around trying to create a television show really screws with the hero’s ability to defend against dark wizards invading from another reality.”

Henry’s smile flashed white in the dim light. “A television hero would manage.”

“Fucking television hero’s got fifty people behind the camera making him look good. I’m going to get fired. You know that, right?”

“It’s not a given.”

“Yeah, it is.” They fell into step, heading for the rear door. “Even if we save the world, I’m going to lose my job, lose my apartment, and end up turning tricks in Gastown. All of a sudden, I’m feeling a lot more sympathy toward season six Buffy.”