“The Golem’s Eye came out in 2004, which means he might have been a werewolf for more than a decade, but he wasn’t born that way.” Whoever this had been, he didn’t look like a kidnapper or murderer. He reminded me of my high school gym teacher, complete with bushy brown mustache, broad shoulders, and tight-laced high-tops.

“When you take the body out, make sure he’s covered,” said Nidhi. “You’ll want to contact his family as soon as possible to arrange for his burial, once you’re done examining him.”

“We know the procedure,” Steinkamp said.

Werewolves were touchy about proper respect for the dead. “I can ask around up north, see if anyone knows our killer.”

“We’ve got this under control,” he said. “We’ll be interviewing his friends and neighbors, as well as local werewolves.”

“You think they’ll talk to the police or the FBI?” asked Nidhi. “Pack loyalties are as strong as any family bond.”

“But they’d talk to you?” Rowland sounded skeptical.

“Most werewolves would tell me to go piss into a fan, but I’ve got a couple of friends outside Copper River. Give me this guy’s name, and I can find out if there’s been any gossip.”

He and Rowland looked at one another.

“Sandy Boyle.” Steinkamp grabbed my arm. “Anything you find out, you call me, got it?”

I gave him a halfhearted salute.

“Before we take you over to check the other witnesses,” he continued, “would you mind looking at the victims? We want to be sure they won’t come back as mons—as whatever killed them.”

“You’re thinking of vampires, not werewolves. With werewolves, once you’re dead, that’s it.”

“Are you one hundred percent certain, Mr. Vainio?”

I thought briefly about other rules of magic I’d been one hundred percent certain about, and how many of those rules had ended up bent or broken. I extended a hand toward the door. “After you.”

Both the governor and the attorney general were thoroughly dead, and no magic was going to change that fact. So were the three other bodies I examined.

Rowland handed me off to a woman from the Lansing Police Department, who took me to check the other witnesses. LPD had a station right across North Capitol Avenue, which was where the FBI and police were completing their interviews.

I treated three more people, using Lucy’s Narnian potion to heal the wounds beneath their bandages. Thankfully, only one of the three had been infected with lycanthropy, and it hadn’t taken hold yet, so the potion was able to eradicate that from his system as well.

By the time we emerged, the streets were mostly clear. The mayor had declared an emergency curfew, and police were working to break up the few remaining groups. All that remained were reporters and law enforcement.