Lena nibbled at her fingernail. Rather, at a bit of wood that had either grown or gotten embedded beneath the nail. “What about Nidhi?”

“I tried earlier. No luck.”

“Isaac . . .”

“I know. I’ll send someone to check on her.” I clenched my teeth and subvocally dialed my former employer.

A male voice answered. “Copper River Library.”

“I need to check out a book,” I said. “I can’t remember the author or the title, but it was blue, and I think there was a woman’s face on the cover.”

“Do you want me to hurt you? What’s going on, Isaac? Is everything all right?”

“Not even close. I need a favor, Jennifer.” I winced. “Sorry. Jason.”

“Don’t sweat it. How can I help?”

Jennifer Latona had been my boss at the Copper River Library for several years. I’d been working as a cataloger for the Porters, and my job at the library was the ideal cover, letting me requisition and review new titles for potential magic.

Back then, Jennifer hadn’t been my favorite person in the world. To be fair, the feeling was quite mutual, and I’d probably earned her disdain. Being able to draw seventy different versions of Excalibur from various books gave one a jaded view of mundane authority.

Our relationship had changed eight months ago. By then, all of Copper River knew the truth about me. Some immediately stopped by asking for magical favors. Others treated me like a minor celebrity. A handful avoided me altogether, as if my mere existence would damn them to hell and transform their children into radical satanic lesbian role-playing gamers. But most folks treated me no differently than they had before, something I both needed and appreciated.

For that acceptance, among other reasons, I’d bent the rules from time to time in the beginning, before the police and the FBI started cracking down on illegal magic use.

I hadn’t expected Jennifer Latona to show up at my door. I certainly hadn’t expected her specific request. After talking with her for three and a half hours and seeing how much it meant to her, I couldn’t turn her away. We ordered an old Dungeons and Dragons manual via Interlibrary Loan, which I used to create a magical item known as a “Girdle of Masculinity/Femininity.”

Traditionally, this was a cursed item used by immature dungeon masters to torment their equally immature players. When Toby and I were kids, he’d tricked my ninth-level wizard into donning one, permanently transforming Salador the Blue into Saladina.

In this case, however, it had been a gift, one that Jennifer—now Jason—had dreamed about for much of his life. From what I’d seen, Jason seemed far more relaxed and content than Jennifer ever had.