“I have to do something.”

“I’m getting that impression.” The pencil lines were gone and nothing remained on the paper but a little pile of eraser leavings, dark with lifted graphite.

“I’m going to do something!” Pivoting on one rubber heel, he stomped back toward the stairs—young, defiant, and dead sooner rather than later if he interfered.

At least that was the reason she gave herself as she carefully lifted the sketch pad toward her mouth. And paused.

There was always the chance that his friend, the Nightwalker, would notice her work. Although it was coming to an end, she liked the life she’d built for herself here in this new world and the last thing she wanted was to be noticed by those who lived in Mystery.

Well, actually not the last thing she wanted . . .

One step from the top of the basement stairs, as his hand reached out for the door handle, Arra murmured, “Forget,” and blew the top sheet of paper clean.

Tony stood by the basement door and realized he felt a lot better about things. The questions that had been gnawing at him seemed to have lost their teeth. Nikki Waugh was still dead and that truly sucked, but there was nothing he could do to bring her back so maybe, just maybe, he should let her go.

“Hey!”

He let Amy’s beckoning finger pull him across the office.

“What were you doing downstairs?”

“Downstairs?”

She rolled her eyes. “In the basement. The dungeon. The wizard’s workshop.”

“Wizard?” Something waved from the edge of memory; gone when he tried to work out exactly what it was.

“Duh. CB’s own special effects wizard. Arra. Short old broad who blows things up.” Artificially dark brows drew in. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Sure. I’m . . .”

The shrill demand of the phone cut him off. “Don’t go anywhere,” Amy ordered as she lifted the receiver. “We’re not done. CB Productions.” Her voice dropped nearly an octave. “Where the hell are you? It does matter, Gerald, because you were supposed to deliver that replacement coffin pillow today!”

Shaking his head, Tony propped a hip on her desk. Welcome to the macabre world of vampire television.

“Hey, Tony!”

He jumped as Adam’s voice blared from his ear jack and bounced around his skull a couple of times. Cheeks flushed—he hadn’t overreacted like that since his first week on the job—he reached for his radio muttering, “The volume control on this thing is totally fucked,” just in case Amy or anyone else in the office had seen. Then, dropping his mouth to the microphone: “Go ahead, Adam.”

“If Lee’s up to it, we’re ready for him on the set.”

Tony glanced at his watch. Nikki’s body had been out of the building for just over an hour. An hour? That seemed . . .

“Tony! Thumb out of your ass, man!”

“Yeah. Sorry. Uh, what if Lee’s not up to it?”