“Then, when it opens, go through it and affect it.”

“If I go through it, I die, Nightwalker, and we’ve agreed—you and I—that I’m not yet ready to die.”

“So basically,” Tony said as Henry considered that last bit of information, “what you’re saying is, now that he knows about us, about this world, we have no hope.”

The smile she turned on him was so bleak it closed around his chest and squeezed. “Now, you’ve got it. Still, look at the bright side.” Lifting the jam jar off the counter, she placed it in his hands. “You might get Lee back in one piece.” A quick glance at the clock on the microwave. “If you hurry.”

She followed them to the door, all but pushing them from the apartment.

Once in the hall, Tony headed straight for the elevator but Henry paused, turned, and said, “The spell you put on Tony, the one that took away his memory?”

“Yes,” she answered warily, unsure of where the question was.

“It only lasted one night. I’m just wondering if maybe it failed because you didn’t want it to last.”

“You think I wanted to be threatened in my own home?”

“I think that, deep down, you wanted other people to know what was going on.”

Her brows rose. “So you’re a psychiatrist now? You have no idea what I want, Nightwalker!”

And the door slammed shut.

Tony parked Lee’s motorcycle in its usual spot, pulled off the helmet, and stared at the cinder-block building that housed CB Productions. It was dark, deserted looking, but since the greater portion of it was windowless, that was hardly surprising. The exterior security lights around the office windows made it hard to tell for certain if anyone remained in the building.

At only 10:50, it was highly likely that the geeks in post were still at their consoles and entirely possible that at least some of the writing staff were hanging around the bull pen—although Tony wasn’t entirely clear about what the latter might be doing at that hour besides drinking CB’s coffee.

Chester Bane, the man himself, might be a problem. Rumor had it that he wandered the sets at night, in the dark.

“Blocking out new shows?” Tony asked.

The writer shook her head, bloodshot eyes flicking from side to side. “His last divorce really wiped him out; we think he lives in Raymond Dark’s apartment.”

“There’s no bed. Raymond sleeps in a coffin.”

“Your point?”

Not entirely believable, considering the source, but CB on set, for whatever reason, would be a problem.

One they’d have no choice but to deal with, Tony acknowledged as Henry parked his BMW in Mason Reed’s reserved spot. Still, if worse came to worst, Henry could always do the vampire mind whammy on him.

“There’s a door in the back,” he said quietly as Henry came up beside him holding the jar of potion in both hands. “It’s got one of those electronic security locks on it, but I know the code.” Catching sight of Henry’s expression, his face illuminated by the light coming off the liquid, Tony smiled tightly. “No, I’m not supposed to have the code, but I watched the key grip open up one morning and it kind of stuck in my head.”