“No problem.” He waved the blue sheets again, like cerulean semaphore for I’ve got to haul ass, and hauled ass for the soundstage. And the Oscar goes to . . . Except this was television not movies and syndicated television besides but an Oscar caliber performance regardless. He just wished he didn’t feel like such a shit.

I should tell him. I should tell him that it has nothing to do with him. That the shadow minions of a dark wizard took over his body and that’s why he can’t remember. Tony snorted as he shoved through the last of the costumes. Oh, yeah, I’m sure it’d comfort him to think that while he was losing his memory, I was losing my mind.

Better the comfort of a lie than the absurdity of the truth.

And ain’t that a proverb for the millennium.

At the monitors, he handed Peter the changes. The director glanced over them then passed all but two sets to Tina. Those two sets, he passed back to Tony. “Give these to Mum and Dad. Tell them I need them out here in . . . Sorge!”

The DP glanced up from sketching Alan’s path across the living room in the air with long sweeping movements of both arms.

“How long?”

“Vingt.” Unaware he was standing directly under an interdimensional gate, Sorge shrugged. “Vingt-cinq.”

“Make it twenty.” Peter turned his attention back to Tony. “Tell them I need them out here in twenty minutes. Suggest that they actually know the new lines.”

“Really?” That last bit sounded suspect.

“Be diplomatic.”

“Uh, sure.” Apparently not.

“And get them back here on time.”

“Right.”

He could be diplomatic. He checked his watch against the time code running across the bottom of the tech monitor and headed back toward the dressing rooms. Odds were good they were both out of makeup by now and anyway, the dressing rooms were on the way.

Memory making his heart pound, just for that moment envying Lee’s memory loss, Tony reminded himself that that shadow was gone. That the shadow following it had been destroyed. He’d destroyed it.

The door to Catherine’s—Nikki’s—dressing room remained off its hinges and Mom and Dad—he didn’t bother checking their actual names, if the morning went well, they’d be gone by lunch—were in the two farthest away. Fortunately, both doors were open. Fortunately, because Tony was suddenly afraid that if he had to knock, he wouldn’t be able to. Dad was reading the paper. Mom had her laptop out.

Their shadows were muted and gray.

He cleared his throat and held up the pages. “Dialogue changes, guys. The director needs you on the set in twenty minutes with the changes down.”

“In twenty minutes?” Mom looked appalled.