Agent Cèsar (a witch), his coworker Suzy (also a witch), Isobel (a private citizen and witch who can talk to the dead), and bureaucratic boss Fritz are in Reno, Nevada, doing a special mission not explained to readers. We do learn more about Cèsar: he’s a comic book nerd, he’s not great at magic, he’s afraid of a lot, he’s easily nauseated, allergic to magic, and he’s not good at shooting a gun. To offset this, he compares everyone he meets to his own height. Being taller seems to make him feel better. He’s even defensive in the narration before someone has criticized him: “It wasn’t real hot — even the desert became cool during winter — but I’d like to see you run with a hundred pounds of floppy dead weight over your shoulders for half a mile without feeling it.”

But even better than getting to know Cèsar was the return of one of my favorite characters: Malcolm, the one-eyed Irish agent part of the Union, which is the military side of the Office of Preternatural Affairs. He’s so cool and funny, and I can’t get enough of him. He’s not really your pal:

“Thanks for the help,” I told Malcolm, who was seated across from Suzy and me. “Any time,” he said, setting the shotgun beside him. “Really, any time. I’m contractually obligated to provide support to the Office of Preternatural Affairs.”

But he’s also going to be conscientious about your safety:

“No sleeping,” Malcolm said. “You might not wake up.”

“I’m not sleeping. Just checking my eyelids for holes.”

“As long as you don’t die checking your eyelids for holes, that’s just dandy.”

For the next book: I want more Malcolm, more of the Nightmare demon David Nicholas, and more about the new relationship between Cèsar and Fritz. I’d prefer less of the romantic tension with Cèsar and Suzy and Isobel because it’s not where my interest is.