The RCMP investigation into the “special effect accident” that had killed Charlie Harris and Rahal Singh had been strangely vague considering that they were the third and fourth bodies connected to CB Productions in less than a month. In the end, no charges had been laid and the newspaper coverage had given the show a ratings bump. With any luck, Constables Elson and Danvers would get tired of dropping by before CB got tired of finding them in the building. Unfortunately, Arra’s wizardry had had less effect on the insurance industry. CB’s enraged commentary on the rise in his rates had probably been heard at the company’s head office in Montreal—whole sentences were still echoing around the soundstage.

Tony handed the cat carriers up one at a time, the hand-shaped bruises on his waist reminding him of shadows as he stretched. Arra settled the first carrier on the top of the ladder and the second on the paint platform and looked down at him. No, stared down at him.

Great. More staring. He found a smile that was mostly sincere. “Thanks for the car. And the stuff. And the whole kicking Shadowlord ass.”

Arra nodded.

Tony waited.

The gate opened. Zazu went through first—he couldn’t see her, but he recognized the yowl. It was slightly higher-pitched than Whitby’s. The last he saw of Whitby was an orange and white paw poked through the bars of the crate.

Arra lifted one foot off the step and stopped. “It’s going to be one hell of a mess through there.”

Yeah, there were wizards nailed to blackboards. He wondered if she could see them from where she was standing.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

“I’m sure.”

She looked down at that, and finally smiled. “You could be great.”

He shrugged. “I’m planning on it.”

“Great and modest. I’m out of here before the sap level rises any higher. Take care of yourself, kid.”

“You, too.”

Watching an old woman step off a ladder and disappear in midair was a definite anticlimax. Half decent CGI would have given the scene a lot more oomph.

“You’re welcome,” he muttered as he folded the ladder and moved it up against the wall. Yeah, getting the car was nice, but would it have killed her to thank him. Not for fighting the Shadowlord, that had nothing to do with her, but she could have thanked him for the backbone he found for her. Without him, she’d have been running until the guilt finally crushed her.

He’d been waiting for her to say something for the last three days, but every conversation they had seemed to end up with her trying to convince him to go with her through the gate.

“I could use the help of someone who does not run away from a fight. Of someone who will not let others run away.”

Oh. Hang on.