“Yeah, well, I’m not so sure. I think there’s layers working here and I’ve almost figured what’s . . . Damn!” Every time he tried to shove the last pieces into place, they slipped shadowlike from his grasp. “Look, when he got a bit of me, well, I got a bit of him—of the Shadowlord—you know, a bit, and so next to Arra, I know him better than anyone, anyone alive that is. And I know her. And, I’m outside their history, so I’ve got a whole new perspective on things. I just think he’s putting too much effort into finding her if he’s that certain she can’t hurt him, so I’ve got to convince her that . . .”

“Mr. Foster?”

“Yeah?”

“Perhaps,” CB said slowly, weighting each word, “until this is over, you should switch to decaf.”

Seventeen

Seventeen

IT TOOK him forever to get to downtown Vancouver although Tony had to admit that saving the world by public transportation was a particularly Canadian way to do things. By the time he reached the Burrard Station, however, he was well into the “screw it, I’m buying a car” mindset. Or a bike. Something like Lee’s. Except he hated getting wet and, most years, wet was the defining weather for the lower mainland. So, back to the car.

He didn’t care what kind of a car.

He just needed something that wouldn’t take so goddamned long to get him anywhere. Hey! I’m trying to find a wizard and save the world here, so could you get the fuck OUT OF MY WAY!

A trio of elderly Asian women shot a variety of worried glances at him and shuffled to one side, clearing his path from the station to the street. He thought about apologizing, had no idea what he’d be apologizing for since he was about ninety percent certain he hadn’t actually said anything out loud, and flagged down a cab. To hell with the expense; maybe CB would kick in a few bucks.

There was a police car parked in front of Arra’s building when he arrived. Tony threw some money at the cabbie and raced across the road, ignoring the horns and shouted curses. Mason drove a Porsche 911, a very fast car that he drove very fast, relying on his minor celebrity to get him out of tickets, and when that didn’t work, relying on the studio to pay the fines. If Mason and the Shadowlord had left just after he had, they’d have easily gotten to Arra’s before him.

Hell, if they’d waited half an hour, had lunch, and then drove Zev’s aging sedan into the city, they’d have easily gotten to Arra before him.

If I’m alive at this time tomorrow, I’m buying a damned car.

It was good to have goals. It made the possibility of imminent death not so imminent.