Made sense, they were anti-shadow potions and if he was the Shadowlord, he’d be watching for something like that. Tony sealed up the four thermoses—they’d bought two new ones with the groceries—and packed them quickly away in his backpack. Then he went for the elevator while Arra locked up and set wards.

“Think of a ward like a spiderweb made of energy,” she’d explained earlier when he’d asked. “Some webs warn the spider there’s prey nearby, some capture it.”

“And you’re the spider?”

She’d snorted impatiently. “No, I’m the walrus. I thought I told you to put those on ice?”

The elevator was taking its own sweet time arriving. A door opened. A familiar yap drove through his eardrums and straight into his brain.

“Julian . . .”

Tony spun around, ready to intervene, but the wizard was smiling almost benignly across the hall toward her neighbor. “Would you mind telling anyone you hear knocking on my door that I’ve gone to Victoria? With Tony.” She gestured.

Julian and Moira leaned out of the doorway to look.

Tony waved.

“Victoria?”

“Yes. There’s no point in them knocking and knocking and knocking and disturbing everyone on this floor, is there?”

“If you’re not home, they can’t get in,” Julian pointed out archly. “You can’t buzz them up.”

Moira yapped agreement and Tony wondered how the Shadowlord felt about dogs.

“You and I both know there are ways around that. At the last board meeting you were trying to put more money into security.”

“You weren’t at the last board meeting.”

“I read the minutes. Thank you for your assistance.” The elevator announced its arrival. “We’ll be going now.”

Julian followed.

Eyes rolling, Arra shoved Tony inside, turned and hit the “close door” button. “Remember: Victoria with Tony,” she said as Julian’s and Moira’s disapproving expressions disappeared.

“Do you think he’ll do it?”

“He might.”

“Why Victoria?”

“Why not? The farther the shadow-held are from the studio, from where he can call on them for help, the better.”

“Will Julian be all right? I mean, will he be in any danger,” Tony corrected as Arra’s lip curled.

“Hard to say. Depends on whether or not they think he knows more than he’s saying. Do I have to keep repeating that this is war?”

“No.”

“Do I have to make the observation about omelets and breaking eggs?”

“God, no!”

“Good. It’s a stupid observation.”

Traffic was heavy on Hastings until they cleared Chinatown, then it spread out and started moving a few kilometers above the limit. Tony drummed his fingers against his thigh and tried not to think of what they were heading toward.

War.

Broken eggs.

Around Clark Drive South, he frowned. “You were working that light thing out on a laptop.”

“So?”

“So we could have been in a moving vehicle all afternoon. I drive, you work.”