“So . . . what was up with that rat-blendering spell?” I asked.

Jane looked surprised. “Arcana hasn’t let me start working with greater magic in an official capacity yet, but Thaddeus has authorized me for some Lesser Arcana practice.”

Thaddeus? I bristled at her familiarity. Since when had Divisional Director Wesker become Thaddeus to her? I tried to swallow the ridiculous schoolboy jealousy that I found had sprung up inside me. My relationship with Jane was the first one that had lasted more than a few weeks—now that I had learned to control my powers somewhat—but it also meant that I had to start learning how to control the teenlike jealousy that came with the unfamiliar territory of something long-term.

“What other magic can you do?” I asked, trying to get back on track.

Jane shrugged and shied her eyes toward her feet. “Just little things. I can light a match, change the temperature of water, make milk go sour . . . April Fool’s Day-level stuff, really.”

“Well, that’s great,” I said with as much encouragement as I could muster. “So the rat thing . . . ?”

She reached over and squeezed my hands, passing her excitement over to me. “I don’t know. I’ve been spending a lot of time filing things away in the Stacks and when you called, I guess I just let my fingers do the walking. I found what I hoped would work on maybe a few of the rats in the second book I opened.”

“It didn’t just take out a few, Jane. It was like a Cuisinart had been taken to all of them to make one big rat smoothie . . .”

Her eyes widened. “Really?”

“Don’t get too excited,” I said. “I don’t like the idea of you delving into the spells that fill the books of the Black Stacks here.”

“Why? Because I’m a girl?” Jane gave a little pout. “No offense, hon, but that comes off as kinda sexist. Am I going to have to call HR?”

I shook my head and held up my hands. “I don’t mean it like that. I was just surprised to hear that you were dabbling a little bit with black magic. I dunno . . . I just thought that’s something you would have told me about.” I suppressed the urge to ask what else she might have neglected to tell me about, specifically just how she had become so chummy with her boss, “Thaddeus.” I took a deep breath until the feeling passed before changing tactics. “It’s just that you’re not a field agent. You’re a researcher for now, and I don’t want you to get mixed up in practicing anything from all this dark source material back here.”

“That practical application did save your life, you know,” she said, striking a he-man pose and flexing her muscles.

“Fair point,” I said, relaxing a little and kissing her on the nose. “I just worry; that’s all.”

“I know,” she said, and hugged me. I grabbed her head and kissed the top of it, which gave me an idea.

“Speaking of worrying,” I said. “I suppose I could give you a little field agent expertise, like how to fight zombies. I’ve already been through “Shufflers and Shamblers,” so this will give you a leg up.”

“Okay,” she said.

“First off, never let them get as close to your skull as I just did.”

Jane gave me a thumbs-up. “Check.”

“And your best bet is to try to outrun them. You’re faster than ninety percent of the zombie variants out there, but if you’re cornered and have to fight, blunt trauma to the head still seems to be the best way to take them down.”

Jane went a little gray. “You really are worried, aren’t you?”

I nodded. “Yeah,” I said. “About a lot of things, but zombies are on the rise and just this afternoon we came across this boatful of dead people that might have been killed by vampires. I haven’t really been schooled so much on them yet or else I’d be teaching you about them, too. There’s only so much vampire slaying I can learn from watching the Buffy boxed set. Then, on top of all that, somebody messed with the Oubliette . . . so I just want to make sure that you’re prepared.”

“Vamps? For real?” she asked, practically bouncing up and down with a morbid excitement. I took a moment to observe how all the right parts on her shifted with the movement. It was hard not to.

“You might want to rethink the low riders,” I said, pointing at her pants.

She looked at me with a mask of confusion.

“Do zombies or vampires have something against fashion?” she asked.

“No,” I said, before I could stop myself, “but maybe you could not wear them while working with Director Wesker.”

It was juvenile, but I couldn’t help it. Being with Jane brought out something protective in me.

She tugged them up a little higher to cover the hint of her zebra-stiped underwear that was sticking out. “Simon,” she said, a little perturbed, “don’t be silly.”

“I’m just saying,” I said, trying to sound disarming, but failing completely. I didn’t quite know how to deal with this feeling welling up inside me, and although I had held my tongue at first, I could feel myself slipping.

“I’m just saying,” I repeated, “you don’t see me calling Inspectre Quimbley ‘Argyle.’ ”

Jane rolled her eyes. “Can we not get into this now?” she asked. She lowered her voice. “I’m kinda at work here . . .”

Do not get into this with her, especially not here, I thought to myself. Just leave before you say something stupid.

“Sure,” I said. I picked up the requisition she had signed, folded it, and slipped it in my pocket. “Thanks.”

I turned toward the gate.

“Simon, don’t go away mad,” she pleaded.

“Just go away, right?” I couldn’t stop myself.

“Jeesh,” Jane said. “Do I crawl up your butt when you’ve got a case you’re working on? I’m making real progress here. They’ve got me researching like crazy in total Willow-mode here, and I think I have the Stacks actually playing nice with me.”

I paused. Truthfully, I was impressed, but with the horrible day I’d had, this wasn’t the way I wanted to end it. She was the one good thing I had going for me right now, but I couldn’t control the schoolboy jealousy.

“Can we discuss this later, then?” I asked, hoping I didn’t sound as cranky as I felt. Jane nodded, wrapping her arms around the book she held, but she didn’t move. “Just come on over after you’re done here. I’ll be home. I hope you and Thaddeus have a great time researching.”

I wish I hadn’t said it, but it was too late. I walked away before I could make it any worse that it already was, but Jane let out a heavy sigh as I went. I never would have thought the hardest thing to deal with back in the Black Stacks would be my girlfriend.

I headed back downtown for my appointment with the Inspectre, going over what had just happened and wondering why my inner alpha male had flared up so much over Wesker. How had a little light instruction on combating the undead turned into a fit of jealousy?

Things with Jane had been going great. Well, as great as they could be for an ex-cultist and a psychometric detective with little experience in long-term dating, anyway. I cursed the years I hadn’t been able to control my power. They had kept me from ever having a relationship successful enough to get to this stage of emotional irrationality.

Now that I was confused and full of steam to blow off, it was the perfect time to head back to the D.E.A. for that Fraternal Order of Goodness-level Unorthodox Fighting Techniques the Inspectre had mentioned. When I got there, I wove my way through an area upstairs that was a labyrinth of musty old offices but with slightly emptier corridors because of the restrictive exclusivity of F.O.G. The furniture was ancient, as if the minds of ages had been battling evil here for centuries, and after several wrong turns, I found Inspectre Quimbley in one of the training areas, suiting up in elbow pads that he was slipping on over his tweed coat.