He bit back the rest of that narrative.
I’ll have to be angry. Which will makeLehrerangry.
And he’s angry enough already.
But it wasn’t as if they’d be better off if Lehrer realized Ames wasn’t persuaded. He’d know Noam must have figured out a way to evade his power. That would be a certain death sentence.
“Actually, you know what, I have an idea,” Dara said, and they both swung their gazes round to look at him. “Neither of you go back. You both stay here. Seems as if that would solve the problem altogether.”
Noam sighed and pushed himself off the bed. He immediately regretted it—without the press of Dara’s body against his side he felt too cold, bereft. “Fine,” he said. “Ames stays here. I’ll ... I’ll figure it out.”Somehow.
Because if he left Lehrer now, they’d be worse off than they started. Without suppressants—without the vaccine—
It was starting to seem more and more like Lehrer had no weakness at all.
And yet Noam still remembered sparring in the government complex—the sheen of sweat on Lehrer’s brow, Lehrer’s defenses always a beat too slow. The low heat in Lehrer’s cheeks as he stood in the bathroom door and watched his doctor drain Noam’s blood for the transfusion.
He did have a weakness.
And Noam was the only one, now, who stood a chance at exploiting it.
Lehrer allowed him two days.
Two days to steep himself in Level IV culture, two days to go to basic and curriculum classes and eat at the little table in the barracks kitchen—skipping their one-on-ones in favor of frigid runs through downtown, shoes tamping down snow that had already gone to dirt and slush. Two days without sleeping. Two days—long enough for Noam’s anxiety to rise to a fever pitch.
Then the text message:You will attend our lessons today.
Noam stood outside the door to Lehrer’s study, sucking in tiny gulps of air with damp hands clutching his satchel strap—imagining Lehrer winding that strap round his neck.
Lehrer had to sense him out here the same way Noam sensed him in return, Lehrer’s golden magic a flickering net around his body as it moved from the window toward the bookshelf. Noam knocked.
The door swung open of its own accord, and Noam moved into the room. Lehrer had just selected a thick text—Ethics in Virological Discourse—and said, without glancing at Noam:
“Take a seat.”
“I’d rather stand.”
“Suit yourself.” Lehrer took another book off the shelf and then, finally, turned his gaze to meet Noam’s. His long fingers tapped against their embossed spines. “Where is Carter Ames?”
Noam suspected Lehrer already knew the answer. There was a cool, even set to his eyes that Noam didn’t like. Dara’s voice in his head:You keep making the same mistake, Álvaro.
“Have you really not figured that out?” Noam said, a laugh biting at the last of his words. He clenched his fists at his sides and hoped Lehrer interpreted that as anger and not what it really was. “They made you, Calix. They—weallknow what you did.”
A moment’s pause, punctuated only by the tick of the clock on the wall. Lehrer set the books down on a nearby table and moved closer—not directly toward Noam, but curvilinearly, as if he didn’t want Noam to realize his approach till it was too late. “And what is it,” he murmured, “that I’m said to have done?”
Dara,Noam realized with a feeling like a dart in his chest.He thinks I talked to Dara.
Suddenly his heart was in his throat. Because whywouldn’tDara have told Noam the truth about what Lehrer did to him? Why would that not have been the first thing out Dara’s mouth the moment they were alone?
Did Lehrer already suspect? Did he think Noam’d abandoned him a long time ago—that all these weeks were a last desperate attempt on Dara’s part to kill Lehrer for good?
Shit. Goddamn it,fuck.
“You persuaded her,” Noam said to buy himself time. The accusation came out tight and harsh: the first shot of war. “You made her your spy.”
“And was that wrong of me, in your estimation?” Lehrer drew nearer still. “Two spies are better than one.”
Especially when you need one spy to spy on your other spy.
