“The Porters interrupted a session as he was trying to seduce me. They eventually taught him how to get the delusions under control, and to use his magic. They helped him. Without the Porters, he could have hurt someone, or else he would have ended up medicated and locked up somewhere. Instead, he’s now grown up and married with three kids. They live in Copenhagen. He sends me a Christmas card every year.”

Standard Porter procedure at the time would have been to adjust Nidhi’s memories of the encounter in order to conceal the existence of magic. She must have impressed them a great deal if they’d offered her a job instead.

“The idea that magic was real terrified me,” she continued. “It took away my understanding of the world. I had to question everything I’d learned, everything I believed. Nothing felt real anymore.”

Blackwell was nodding. I just did my best not to move. I hated feeling helpless, but if I was the one triggering his panic, anything I said or did would likely make things worse.

“I don’t know how the police handle scenes like this, day after day, without breaking down.” Nidhi pointed to the wounded, and to the capitol building behind us. “I’m running on nothing but adrenaline right now. I’ll probably fall apart tonight when I get home and this is all over.”

“You never really get used to it,” Blackwell admitted.

Nidhi nodded. “You’ve seen the ugly side of magic in there. You also saw magic save a life. Focus on that. We’re on the same side.”

Slowly, he lowered his gun. Rowland moved in quickly to take it from him. Two others caught Blackwell’s arms and escorted him away from me.

“Are you all right?” asked Agent Steinkamp.

I sagged. “It’s not the first time someone’s wanted to kill me.”

“It’s surprising how often it happens,” Nidhi added.

“Thanks.” I squeezed her shoulder. She nodded once.

“Nice work, Doctor Shah,” said Rowland. “I’m sorry about Blackwell. He’s a good cop, and a good man. I’ve never seen him lose it like that.”

Smudge looked to be calming down, which meant I was no longer in immediate danger of being shot. “Does anyone else need magical treatment?”

“Several others should be checked for infection, including the witnesses we’re questioning across the street.” Steinkamp glanced over his shoulder. “Before that, there’s something else I’d like you to look at.”

“Sure,” I said wearily. “Just answer me one question?”

“Shoot.” He grimaced. “Sorry, bad choice of words.”

“We arrived about a half hour after the news broke,” I said. “If I’m remembering right, the nearest FBI field office is in Detroit, about an hour away with clear traffic, eh?”

“That’s right,” he said cautiously.

“So how is it the FBI got here before we did?”