“You’re going to be fine.” I grabbed the healing cordial and gave him a drop to cure the physical wounds. “If you were hoping for cool scars to show off after your fight with the werewolves, I’m afraid I’ve got bad news.”

“What do you mean, bad news?” He stared at his now-undamaged arm and wiped the blood away. “Oh!”

I was already moving back to the fellow on the ground. He was going to be harder to save. This had to be another of the chaperones for the Boy Scout tour. He was dressed too casually to be a government employee, in old jeans and an oversized pink hoodie. His scalp was a mess of matted blood and hair, but the skin was smooth and undamaged. Officer Blackwell had cuffed his hands behind his back.

“What’s happening to me?” Tears cut through the blood on the man’s face.

“Lycanthropy—werewolfism—is contagious.” I sat in front of him, out of arm’s reach. I didn’t think he could snap those cuffs, but I wasn’t positive. A low ripple of flame passed over Smudge. I shoved my coat back to keep it clear of his cage. “Some people catch it by accident after reading a book. It’s rare, but someone with magical talent who doesn’t know what they’re doing can reach into the book and draw the infection into themselves without realizing it. That’s how most strains of lycanthropy and vampirism came into existence. More often, it’s spread by bites.”

“You mean like rabies?” He held up his arms. “The doctor said the blood wasn’t mine. She couldn’t find any puncture wounds. She said I was just in shock.”

“You probably are.” I studied the infection as I talked. The text had made its way through his body, binding to blood and bones. It was one thing to counter a surface-level infection, to pull scraps of magic from an open wound. Once that magic bound itself to the victim, most strains were impossible to cure. Including this one, from the look of it.

“I was chaperoning my son’s field trip.” His voice cracked. “I haven’t seen Jaiden since the attack.”

“The children are all fine,” said Nidhi. “The attackers weren’t interested in hurting them.”

“I’ve explained that to him three times,” murmured one of the medics. “He keeps forgetting.”

Medical training, both for nonhuman patients and for supernatural injuries, was another area where New Millennium should have been doing more. I understood the need for caution with trials and research, but the average medical professional knew next to nothing about magic. How could they be expected to do their jobs in a situation like this?

“You’ll be back with Jaiden soon,” I said. “What’s your name?”

“Will. Are you a doctor?”