As Adam beckoned, Lee nodded at Tony and walked onto the set. Any other time, Tony wouldn’t have been able to look away as the actor shed Lee Nicholas and became James Grant. Today, the Shadowlord held his entire attention.

“I wonder if he’s going to take his friend to his interview.”

“They’re live . . .”

“Shadows made of light . . . just think of what I could do with something like this.”

And it seemed as though shadows were shadows—that power he had now.

Oh, fucking crap.

The Shadowlord wasn’t only after Arra. It was also an invasion. And Tony’d handed him the weapon he needed to win it.

The production office was empty. Tony could hear Rachel and Amy and one of the writers in the kitchen arguing over who’d emptied the coffeemaker. Keeping his head down, he hurried toward the open door of CB’s office. He had to find a way to break Arra’s spell because Chester Bane was the only person Mason ever listened to. The only person with even half a hope in hell of keeping him—and by extension the Shadowlord—from that live interview.

He might even know where Arra was.

But he wasn’t in his office.

There was an appointment book open on the desk. CB disapproved of electronic calendars, saying paper and ink never got wiped out by a thunderstorm. Tony’d never heard of anyone’s PDA being wiped out by a thunderstorm, but he had no intention of ever pointing that out to CB. The book was open to the current date. CB’d had a breakfast meeting with one of the networks, but the rest of the day was clear. Therefore, he was somewhere in the building.

“Lots of help. It’s a big fucking building!” Nothing on the desk suggested where in the building CB might be; if he was on the move, they could chase each other around all afterno . . .

Tony slid the appointment book to one side and stared down at the sheet of art paper tucked into the edge of the blotter. The pattern penciled on it looked incredibly familiar. A closer look showed that the pattern had been, in fact, redrawn—lines drawn hard enough to etch the paper erased then filled back in.

Lines erased.

But this wasn’t the pattern Arra had used to erase CB’s memory.

No.

“My memory.”

She’d erased it; he remembered seeing her erase it. Even when he’d forgotten everything else, he’d remembered that. CB must have found the paper and filled the lines back in.

Coincidence? Tony’s thoughts flicked back to the vodka-catnip cocktails still in his thermos. If CB was also a wizard, he was going to need a very stiff drink.

After erasing it, Arra had slipped the paper she’d drawn CB’s pattern on into her desk.

So, logically, in order to return CB’s memory . . .

Finally! Something was going right!