“Captain Edden of the FIB sent me to find evidence that you’re the witch hunter,” I said. “He won’t pay me if I don’t follow up on his idea. You’re obnoxious, overbearing, and the meanest thing I’ve seen since my fourth-grade teacher, but you’re not a murderer.”

The older woman slumped as the tension drained from her. “Thank you,” she whispered. “You don’t know how good it is to hear someone say that.” She pulled her head up, shocking me with a weak smile. “The not-murdering part,” she added. “The adjectives I’ll ignore.”

Seeing a hint of humanity in her, I blurted, “I don’t like ley lines, Dr. Anders. Where’s the rest of my aura?”

She took a breath to say something, stopping as her gaze went over my shoulder to the door. I spun in my chair at the tentative knock on the frame. Nick peeked round the open door, and I felt my face light up. “I apologize, Dr. Anders,” he said, making a show of his university work ID clipped to his shirt. “Can I interrupt for a moment?”

“I’m with a student,” she said, the professional tone back in her voice. “I’ll be with you in a moment if you’d like to wait in the hall. Could you shut the door, please?”

Nick winced, looking awkward as he stood in his jeans and casual shirt in the doorway. “Ah, it’s Rachel I need to see. I’m really sorry for interrupting like this. I’m working in the next building over.” He turned to look down the hall and back. “I wanted to see that she was all right. And possibly find out how much longer it was going to be?”

“Who are you?” Dr. Anders asked, her face blank.

“That’s Nick,” I said sheepishly. “My boyfriend.”

Hunched in embarrassment, Nick fidgeted. “I don’t know why I’m even bothering you,” he said. “I’ll go wait in the lounge.”

A flash of what looked like horror passed over Dr. Anders. She looked from me to Nick, then surged to her feet. Heels clacking, she pulled him in and shut the door behind him.

“Stay there,” she said as she left him bewildered in front of her desk. Nick’s pentagrams sat before us like guilt given substance. Standing before the windows with her back to us, Dr. Anders looked at the dark parking lot. “Where did you get a familiar binding spell that was in Latin?” she asked.

Nick touched my shoulder in sympathy, and I wished I’d never gotten him into this. “Uh, out of one of my old spell books,” I admitted, thinking she wanted Nick there for verification. “It was the only charm I could find on such short notice. But I know the pentagrams. I just didn’t have the time to do them.”