The vibrations grew stronger.

"Can anyone else feel that?"

Together, Tony and Arra stared at Lee.

"Feel what?" Laura asked cautiously.

Frowning, the actor rubbed his jaw. "It's like there's a ... I don't know, like a bee trapped in my head."

Tony would have said dentist's drill, but bee was close enough. No one else seemed to be noticing. Because of the shadow in him? he mouthed at Arra.

She shrugged-he had no idea if the gesture was an answer or because she couldn't lip- read.

"All right people, if we give it some gas, we can get Dad's reactions in the can before lunch. B-camera, you ready?"

"Good to go, Boss."

"Lee?"

A shadow brushed across Lee's face. He stiffened and screamed.

Chapter Seven.

TONY JUMPED forward as Lee's knees began to buckle and managed to slide an arm under his head just before bone impacted with concrete.

A small bounce as the back of her head impacted with concrete.

He'd reacted as much for his own benefit as Lee's; he didn't think he could bear hearing that particular sound again. A line of cold air brushed feather light against his cheek, and he turned his head in time to see a shadow pour off his shoulder. And another slide across the floor.

When Lee screamed again, Tony turned back toward him so quickly he courted whiplash, saw a tendril of shadow pool in the hollow of the actor's throat, saw it dribble down to join the shadow cast by solid flesh, saw it separate and disappear behind the camera mount.

"What the h.e.l.l is going on?"

"Shadows."

Arra's whisper pulled Tony's gaze past Peter to where the wizard stood, visibly trembling.

"Shadows?" The director looked as well, and when no answer was forthcoming, directed his next question out at the floor. "What the h.e.l.l does that mean?"

Multiple shoulders lifted and fell.

No one else had seen them. Or, possibly, no one else was willing to admit that such a thing could exist. It was a defense mechanism Tony'd seen a hundred times. Henry and his kind survived because of it. And Henry'd made it pretty much impossible for him to use it.

He pulled a word from the air. "Seizure?"

Someone dropped down at Lee's other side. A hand moved his arm away gently and placed a pad of fabric between concrete and skull. Tony looked up to see Laura on her knees, her sweater off and her fingers against the pulse point in Lee's throat.

"I don't know about a seizure," she said briskly, "but his heart's racing, his temperature is up, and there's a certain rigidity in his muscles that I don't like." The silence that followed held so many questions, she looked up and frowned. "I've been a nurse for twenty years. You can't honestly think I can make a living doing the occasional character role on Canadian television?"

The murmur of agreement from cast and crew held distinct overtones of relief; someone knew what they were doing.

"We're heavily syndicated in the American market," Peter muttered under his breath.

"Not my point." Laura sat back on her sensible heels as Lee opened his eyes.

The clear jade green looked murky. Flawed. Or I could be overreacting just a bit, Tony admitted, his own heart working in quick time.

"Lee, are you back with us? How are you feeling?"

His eyes locked on Laura's face with a desperate need to know. "Is it over?"

"It seems to be."

Question and answer held no subject in common, but Tony was just as glad he hadn't had to answer the question actually asked. No. It wasn't over. Including the original shadow that had set Lee off, he'd counted four, but with his focus so narrowed, he couldn't swear there hadn't been a dozen more.

Adam stood at Lee's feet, pencil tapping against the edge of his clipboard, eyes narrowed as though he was working out the logistics in his head. "Should we call a doctor?"

Suddenly aware he was flat on the floor and the center of attention-and not the kind of attention actors required-Lee struggled to sit up. "I'm fine."

Tony inched back, aware he had no right to be inside the other man's personal s.p.a.ce but unwilling to surrender his position entirely."Screaming and collapsing doesn't generally indicate fine," Laura told him, helping him sit up. Her tone was so matter-of-fact it cut the ground out from under rising panic.

Drawing in a deep breath, Lee managed a wobbly smile. "That was then, this is now."

"Can you tell me what happened?"

The smile wobbled a little more. "No. I was cold then . . ."

"He should see a doctor."

"Hey, I'm good." He sounded fine. But then three weeks ago he'd sounded like a fifteenth-century Italian n.o.bleman by way of a Canadian screenwriter, so Tony wasn't putting much stock in the p.r.o.nouncement.

Neither was Laura. "Something caused that reaction. It would be wise to see a doctor."

He stood as Lee did, fairly certain the other man had no idea whose shoulder he was using and, considering their interaction over the past two days, just as happy. The last thing he wanted was to be tied in Lee's mind to personal disaster. Although given the whole memory-loss, screaming-and-falling-over thing, it might already be too late.

Lee glanced around at his audience. "We're behind already."

Heads nodded. Someone had died and the show had gone on. Falling over and screaming was fairly far down the list in comparison.

"We'll be farther behind if this continues," Laura pointed out reasonably. "It could be something serious. It might be nothing. But you should know."

Heads nodded again. The same heads.

Hands spread, Lee smiled; the wobbles under control, the only indication that anything had happened a certain tightness around his eyes. He was a better actor than most people gave him credit for. "I'm fine."

"Obviously, you're not." The deep voice pulled everyone's attention around. CB, who never came out on the sound-stage while they were shooting, stood at the edge of the set. It looked significantly smaller than it had. He waited until the murmurs of surprise died down-waited with an att.i.tude that clearly said they'd better die down d.a.m.ned fast- and then continued. "You are too valuable to me and to this show to allow what might be a potentially serious situation to continue. Do you have a doctor in the area, Mr.

Nicholas?"

"No, I..."

"Then you will see mine. I will take you myself. Now."

"But the scene ..."

"Reaction shots can be done without you."

Tony wondered how CB knew they were on reaction shots. Direct video feed to his office? Psychic powers? Lucky guess?

"Mr. Wu . . ."

Alan jumped at the sound of his name.

". . . can read your lines to Ms. Harding and Mr. Polintripolous. Mr. Polintripolous can read your lines to Ms. Harding and Mr. Wu. While I appreciate your willingness to do the job, at this exact moment I would rather you tend to your health. Mr. Foster."Tony's turn to jump.

"Accompany Mr. Nicholas to his dressing room and then, once he has washed up and changed into his own clothing, to my office." As Lee began to protest, he raised a hand.

"If whatever happened just now happens again, I want someone near enough to you to help."

So much for not being a.s.sociated in Lee's mind with personal disaster.

A lesser man would have extended his scene by sweeping those a.s.sembled with an imperious glare; CB merely turned on one heel and left, his force of personality such that Tony almost expected to see the swirl of an Imperial cape and hear the studded sandals of his Praetorian guard slap against the floor.

No one moved until they heard the door to the soundstage close.

"All right, people, let's reset for Laura's reactions. Alan, you're reading Lee's lines."

As Peter moved back behind the monitors, Adam gently took hold of Lee's shoulder and shoved him toward the exit. "You'd better go; he's waiting."

"I don't need to see a doctor." He sounded annoyed. It wasn't quite enough to cover the fear.

"CB thinks you do, so . . ." Adam shrugged. "What can it hurt? It's probably nothing."

"Probably," Lee repeated, but from the look on his face he was thinking of some of the things it probably wasn't.

Tony wanted to tell him that it was none of those. It wasn't MS, it wasn't ADSS; it wasn't any of a dozen neurological disorders that would destroy his career then finally take his life. Unfortunately, it was something worse. Worse numerically anyhow, since an invasion by the Shadowlord would also destroy his career and take his life-along with countless other lives.

"Tony."

About to fall into step beside the actor, he glanced over at Adam.

"The moment Lee's in CB's office, you head right back."

He felt his cheeks flush. "Sure." Skip out early once and never hear the end of it.

Lee was half a dozen steps in front of him now, the set of his shoulders announcing that he neither needed nor wanted company. Too bad. As Tony hurried to catch up, he checked out the spot where Arra had been standing and wasn't surprised to find her gone. He hadn't actually expected her to stay around and do something useful.

Something wizardy.

The red light came on seconds after they closed the door.

The show going on.

Stepping into the cleared area in front of the washroom, for the first time walking side by side, a shadow skittered across their path. They jerked back. Lee caught a kind of moan in his throat and held it there.

"Just this coat," Tony said, grabbing a fistful of fabric and yanking the coat still. "It sort of moved out in front of the light."

Lee had shoved his way through the costumes with enough force to set the racks swaying and, in turn, the costumes. He looked at the coat, then turned just far enough to stare at Tony; kept staring long enough so Tony was sure he was going to demand an explanation."You know what's happening around here, Foster. Spill it."

Or perhaps a little more twenty-first Century. "What the h.e.l.l is up with these shadows?"

Lee's eyes narrowed. Then, without a word, he stomped the last three meters to his dressing room, entered, and slammed the door.

"Yeah." Tony leaned on the scuffed drywall between Lee's dressing room and makeup.

"I'll just wait out here."

"... go through thousands of bottles of water every week and so crushing them before they go into the recycling bin is crucial or they're just not going to fit." Amy speared a piece of spiral pasta and frowned into its pattern. "Not to mention that whole wind catching them when they're dumped and bouncing them over h.e.l.l's half acre thing."

Looking up, her frown deepened. "Tony? Are you even listening to me?"

He tore his gaze away from a patch of shadow climbing the soundstage wall. "Yeah.

Crushing plastic water bottles. I heard you. Amy, can I tell you something a little . . .

weird?"

"About Lee?

Lee was the princ.i.p.al topic of a hundred lunch discussions. "Sort of."

"Good thing Mason wasn't on the set," she snorted, picking through her chicken fettuccini. "He hates it when Lee gets more attention than he does." The office staff had their own kitchen and their own caterer, but every one of them believed that the food on the soundstage was better. When the show was shooting on set, they ran a lottery to see who'd get to eat with the cast and crew. Amy won fairly often and when the inevitable protests arose, she reminded her coworkers that eventually someone would complain and the odds were good she'd be the one catching the s.h.i.t. So far, no one had. Since there was always enough food for a dozen extra people and Mason usually ate in his dressing room, it was unlikely anyone ever would. She looked up, caught sight of Tony's face, and stilled. "This is serious." When he nodded, she put down her fork.

"Go ahead."

Where to start? "There's a gate to another world, like a metaphysical gate, in the soundstage."

When he paused, unsure, she nodded. "Go on."

"Shadows come through it controlled by an evil wizard they call Shadowlord."

"He controls the gate or the shadows?"