I surveyed my home and grimaced. Aside from nailing sheets of plywood over the broken back door, I had done nothing at all to clean up. Nor was I much better off: my clothes were rumpled, stubble covered my chin and cheeks, and my hair was a bed-flattened disaster.

Doctor Shah didn’t look so great either. Her eyes were shadowed, and she acted jumpy, glancing about as she approached like she was waiting for something to leap out at her. Given her time in captivity, I couldn’t blame her. How did a therapist cope with that kind of trauma?

I took a moment to compose myself, trying to keep my own conflicting feelings from showing, then opened the door.

“Isaac!” Lena bounded up the steps to hug me. “Congratulations on your promotion!”

“Thanks.”

She pulled back, and her brow furrowed. “Have you eaten anything today?”

“Raisin Bran. I think.” Had I actually finished that bowl, or was it still sitting in my office? “I’ve been busy with the new job.” I stepped to the side. “I haven’t had time to straighten up around here. Sorry.”

Lena pulled a box of Hot Tamale candies from her pocket. “I brought something for Smudge. Do you mind?”

I gestured for her to go ahead, and she hurried back to my office. I shook Doctor Shah’s hand and shut the door behind her. “I’m glad you’re all right.” I hesitated. “Are you? All right, I mean?”

“I’ve had better months, but I’m getting there. I met with Margaret Hubert yesterday. Her son’s magic was crude, like an ax through her memories, but I think the Porters should be able to help her.”

Lena returned and opened the fridge. “You haven’t even been shopping yet?”

Doctor Shah rolled her eyes. I couldn’t tell if her expression was one of fondness or exasperation. Probably both.

“If I’d known you were coming, I would have stocked up on ice cream,” I said.

“Well, make sure you remember next time.”

Next time? “I’m sorry I forgot to call you about the motorcycle.”

“I’m not here about the bike.” Lena gave up on my fridge and sat down at the table, where she tossed back a few candies.

When she didn’t say anything more, I turned back to Shah. “Do you want a beer?”

Her face eased into a genuine smile. “Oh, God, yes.”

I grabbed two from the fridge, one for each of us. I took a long drink, then asked, “Did Gutenberg send you to check up on me?”

“Gutenberg has nothing to do with this visit,” Lena assured me.

“In part, I wanted the chance to say thank you,” said Doctor Shah. “For helping Lena, and for freeing me.”

“I couldn’t have done it myself.” I gave Lena a quick salute with the bottle. “She’s a better field agent than I ever was.”