Outside, every Rasha on my team simultaneously activated their magic.

"Give yourselves up," the woman on the bullhorn commanded.

No one did, tension rolling over the courtyard like a blanket.

I peeked out through the half-ajar door in time to see the air around the compound's property line ripple.

A dozen women ranging from their twenties to their fifties stood there, expressions alert and bodies coiled to spring. They wore identical black uniforms that ...