“Wait there. I’ll make a couple of calls and get right back to you.”

“I had thought, wizard, that you were unwilling to become involved in this fight.”

“Did I say anything about fighting?”

He stood there holding his silent phone and admitted that, no, she hadn’t. Enough for now that she was willing to help find Tony—who, it seemed, had, one way or another, been taken by shadow.

“You see me.”

“Jesus, Mouse, you’re a big guy.” Tony tried for a sardonic snort and didn’t quite make it. “How could I miss you?”

The cameraman’s callused hand closed around the back of Tony’s neck. “You see me,” he repeated. “The voice of the light did not see me. But you see me.”

“Yeah, well, seeing a little too much of you right now.” Mouse’s face loomed so close over his that Tony could see every broken capillary, every enlarged pore, and he was getting a really good look at the scar from where Mouse’s ex-wife had jabbed a nail file through his nose. He placed both hands flat against the barrellike chest and shoved. It worked about as well as he’d expected it to. “You want to back off a bit?”

“No. You and I are going to have a . . .” He fell silent, eyes squinted nearly shut as a set of high beams swept through the bus shelter.

Out of the direct line of light, Tony could see the police car approaching. Could see it slowing down. Yes! Let’s hear it for law and order. Little guy’s getting manhandled by big guy, and the police . . .

Mouse’s mouth closing over his cut off the thought. And pretty much every other thought besides: What is it with shadows in straight boys coming on to me?

By the time Mouse lifted his head, the police car was gone.

Just fucking great, Tony thought, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. We couldn’t be in Toronto, where the cops’ll bust your ass for PDAs. Oh, no, we have to be in fucking officially-tolerant-of-alternative-lifestyles Vancouver.

“Don’t do that again,” he snarled.

“Or you’ll what?”

“Tell Mouse’s old lady.”

A flash of fear. Either Mouse was in there listening or the shadows took on more than the physical form of the bodies they wore. Tony had a feeling that was important, but he didn’t have time to work out why as Mouse’s hand tightened to the point of pain and he was propelled out of the bus shelter and into the rain. “Hey! Where are we going?”

“Somewhere . . . quiet.”