“Better. I’m a librarian.” The magic was strongest near his throat. I touched my fingertips to the skin of his neck. His pulse was far too rapid. I tried reaching for the text as I’d done with the other victim. When I touched the magic, he jerked and stiffened like I’d jolted him with an electric shock. Both the EMT and Officer Blackwell moved in to catch him by the arms.

“What did you do?” snapped the EMT.

“Just getting a sense of what did this.” The text of his curse was different from what I’d read on the previous patient. That confirmed at least two werewolves, then. “What did the werewolves look like?”

“You’re supposed to be healing them, not interrogating them,” snapped Blackwell.

“If I have a better idea what kind of werewolf did this, it’ll be a lot easier to heal him.”

“Tall and lean,” said Will. “Like a man, but with a wolf’s face, covered in black fur. I thought he was wearing a mask at first, like this was a gag or something. He was wearing sweatpants and a Red Wings jersey. Oh, and blue Crocs.”

“Loose-fitting clothes. He’d planned on changing forms.” Not all werewolves could change at will. The fact that this one had an intermediate, more-or-less humanoid form narrowed things down as well.

I grabbed a Star Trek novel from my jacket. “Do you read science fiction, Will?”

He shook his head.

“That’s too bad. Because this is going to be really cool.”

His eyes went round as my fingers disappeared into the book.

“What else you can tell us about the attack?” I asked.

“I heard they killed two guards,” Will said numbly. “Someone said the governor and attorney general were both in the building. There was so much screaming . . .”

Governor Sullivan and Attorney General Duncan were strong proponents for anti-magic legislation. If this attack was about them, it meant someone had known they’d be here this evening. Either by hacking into their schedules, or because someone on the inside passed the information along. Possibly the same someone who’d arranged this after-hours tour for the Boy Scouts?

I focused on the book, drawing the magic of a particular scene into myself and once again walking the line between fiction and reality as I worked to bend the story’s magic to my particular needs.

A few years back, I’d have said what I was hoping to do was impossible, but recent crises and conflicts had shown how little we truly knew about the rules and limitations of libriomancy, and of magic in general. If things continued at this pace, we could be looking at a magical revolution in more than one sense of the word.

“Is there anything more we should know?” I asked.

“Last warning, Mister Vainio,” said Blackwell. “Just do your job and let us do ours.”

Will shook his head. “I’m sorry.”