Precedence:IMMEDIATE
Date:11-01-2016
Title:RESULTS OF INITIAL INVESTIGATION INTO 10-29 ATTACK
Synopsis:To provide results of the initial investigation into the witching militia “Avenging Angels” attack in Chicago.
Details:On 10/29/2016 a bomb threat was received, stating the Avenging Angels intended to detonate a fuse bomb in the vicinity of Hyde Park. Initial reports suggested this threat was both credible and imminent. Evacuation commenced immediately, redirecting civilians to a presumed safe location.
On 10/29/2016 at 11:42 AM, 18 fuse bombs detonated in the Chicago metro area, particularly Millennium Park, where many evacuees were being detained. Subsequent attacks targeted first responders and paramedics. At the time this memorandum was drafted, there were 339 confirmed deaths and 192 missing.
The Avenging Angels released a video broadcast on all major news networks claiming responsibility for the attack.
Intelligence confirms the Avenging Angels still operate under the leadership of Adalwolf Lehrer, a.k.a. Uriel [see Appendix A], former army private first class, witching with presenting power pyromancy (ability level 3). Additional reports suggest A. Lehrer has suffered from unexplained illness for some months. Intelligence officers now believe the primary strategic force among the Avenging Angels is A. Lehrer’s 18-year-old brother, Calix Lehrer, a.k.a. Azriel [see attached]. C. Lehrer is a former patient of St. George’s Hospital, a witching with numerous extramagical abilities. Officers, be advised: C. Lehrer’s presenting power is—file damage, illegible—(ability level 4). Take appropriate precautions [see Appendix B for recommendations].
CHAPTERELEVEN
He dreamed Bea stood in that ocean just off the boardwalk, salt water around her ankles and blood on her dress. Magic was her electric crown.
“I’m sorry,” Noam told her. “I tried. There wasn’t anything I could do. I’m sorry.”
Then he was in the ocean at her side, her wet fingers cold as they slid along his cheek and pulled him down.
The waves crashed against Noam’s legs.
Into his ear she whispered:
“Faraday.”
The dream cracked like an egg.
Noam lurched upright in his bed, sheets a damp tangle around his feet and pulse hot in his mouth. The clock on his bedside table read 2:03—another three hours till his alarm. Noam was certain if he closed his eyes again, that dream would pick up right where it left off, with the smell of gore and death on the sea breeze.
He slipped out of bed, grabbing a coat from the back of the door and toeing on shoes. The government complex was so quiet at this hour it felt like a moment trapped in amber, as if the real world might still spin on outside these walls, but here—here would never change.
He still tasted magic, sour and sharp on his tongue as he headed downstairs. He needed fresh air, that was all. Just... somewhere to sit and breathe where he wasn’t suffocating.
The guards at the door to the courtyard recognized him well enough now not to say anything as he went past; they opened the door and let him step out into the chilly spring night.
He missed the days Lehrer talked about, when Carolinian spring was still warm. The thin coat wasn’t enough to keep the wind from burning into his bones. He tugged it closer round his shoulders, realizing only when he caught the scent of smoke and spilled bourbon that this wasn’t even his coat. It was Dara’s.
He headed toward the stream, which had frozen over during the night. Now it was a white scar cutting through the brick underfoot. The courtyard was so utterly silent, the cicadas still in hibernation.
Noam should never have given those emails to Brennan. He should’ve released them to the public and exposed Sacha’s moral rot for the world to see.
He’d spent so much time waiting, hoping Brennan might come around, understand that now they were all each other had. That Brennan would let Noam take his father’s place at Brennan’s side, and together they would repair the world.
Only he kept waiting, and hoping, and Brennan did nothing.
All Noam did these days waswait. He was waiting right now, even: on Lehrer. Lehrer, who had a plan. Lehrer, passing cryptic notes in empty courtyards.
Maybe it was childish to keep wishing someone—Brennan, or Lehrer, or his father—would come along and tell him what to do next.
He ought to fight, whether he had help or not.
When the European Federation found out what the US was doing to witchings, it had intervened. The whole country was nuked half to hell by the time Adalwolf and Calix Lehrer’s militia started gaining ground. Maybe Europe would intervene now, too, on behalf of the refugees.
Or maybe not.
