“Yes. The theory is that since so many people are ignorant of the basic mechanical principles involved in making the phone work, to them it might just as well be magic. They believe blindly that it will work and it does. On the other hand, cars are viewed as the sum of mechanical parts which are prone to failure, therefore when magic hits, they fail.”

“That’s a cool theory,” he said.

“Unfortunately, it makes my job that much harder.”

The magic fluctuation crashed into us. The electric lamps went out and absolute darkness drenched the city. Just when my eyes adjusted to the lack of light, we turned the corner and were greeted by a row of feylanterns. One more turn and we’d reach Casino.

“Do you know where we’re going?” I asked.

“To the People’s shithole.”

I shook my head, waving good-bye to any hopes of preserving my neutrality with him at my side. “I want this to be very clear. No matter what happens, I don’t want you to change form unless you have no choice. They can’t smell you, since you’ve showered. Unless you go furry, they have no way of knowing that you belong to the Pack and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Why?”

“One, I want to keep my cooperation with the Pack out of the spotlight. It creates an appearance of impropriety.”

“The People wouldn’t be thrilled to know you have a wolfman with you.”

“Yeah.” Ted wouldn’t be thrilled either. “And two, once you turn and fight, you’ll have to be fed and given a peaceful spot to sleep it off. I don’t always have a peaceful spot handy.”

“Got it.”

“Good.”

The city, caught in the light and shadow web of the triumphant moon, lay empty and silent. Maybe the boy wonder would manage to keep his human skin on in the Casino. I certainly hoped so.

THE MAGIC HAD A SELECTIVE APPETITE. WHEN IT came to buildings, it gnawed on the sky scrapers first, from the top down and then it pounced on anything large, complex, and new. The Bank of America Plaza went down first, followed by the SunTrust skyscraper. One Atlantic Center, the Peachtree Plaza, even the new Coca-Cola building took a dive. The Georgia Dome crashed before the proverbial dust cleared, and the rest of the monuments to the engineering might of man raced to commit seppuku in the face of the magic onslaught. So when one day the Georgia World Congress Center rumbled, quaked like a milk tooth about to come out, and collapsed in a huge dust cloud, the locals didn’t even bat an eye.