I unclipped Smudge’s cage and set it on the table between Vaughn and myself. Smudge perked up and poked his forelegs through the bar. He knew this place, and had developed an appetite for anchovies.

“What do you think?” Nicola asked, without preamble.

Vaughn sipped his water before answering. He was an intelligent, quick-witted man who’d started out as a public defender. His ruffled graying hair and gentle blue eyes, framed by laugh lines and silver-rimmed glasses, tended to make people underestimate him. “Hard to say. Homeland Security is pushing hard to get more of you Porters on the payroll. People are scared, Nic. They want guarantees that some voodoo curse won’t turn New York City into a graveyard, or a vampire won’t mind-rape the president into launching nukes at his own country.”

“Voodoo is a religion, not a school of magic,” I pointed out. Though technically, enough authors had written about voodoo dolls to make them a viable tool for libriomancers to pull out of books.

“I know that, boy.” Vaughn took another drink. “Point is, they think you’re holding back. A lot of folks want all of you Porters rounded up, along with the vampires, werewolves, and the rest. Dryads, too, I’m afraid.”

Lena smiled. “They’re welcome to try.”

“I haven’t seen things this tense since the Cold War,” he went on. “Folks think World War III is coming, and when it arrives, it’s gonna fly in on broomsticks, waving wands and massacring muggles.”

“The world’s doing the best it can to make it happen,” I snapped. “North Korea is mandating everyone read one government-approved novel each month, trying to build up a library of magical weapons. Here in the States, Senator Keeler wants us to help him turn hundreds of soldiers into vampires. China detonated a fucking nuke trying to get to the Students of Bi Sheng.”

Vaughn’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know that?”

“Because I have friends there.” The Students of Bi Sheng were a small group of survivors from five hundred years ago, practitioners of an alternate form of libriomancy. They’d fought a magical war once before, and were determined to stay out of world events. There were days I’d been tempted to join them.

“Best not mention that to the committee,” said Vaughn. “Last I checked, the Porters weren’t exactly innocent in this whole mess. Look at all those casualties from your battle in Copper River. What about the victims of rogue weres and vamps and all the rest? Like that fellow you told me about, the one in the U.P. who fed on Boy Scouts?”

“He hasn’t touched a child since the day I put a bomb in his skull. I’m not saying we ignore killers, but—”