“Correct,” said Dara, and he dropped his hand from his hair at last. “God. Anything else you want to share, while we’re at it?”
Guilt twisted like a poisonous vine through Noam’s guts, tangling around his still-bruised throat.
“Lehrer’s immune to the vaccine.”
Dara’s lips drew into a thin line. “Are you serious, Álvaro?”
“I didn’t see the point in ... listen, okay, you’re right. I should have told you. But let’s not argue about that right now, okay?”
For a second Dara looked like he was gonna blow right past that anyway, but after a beat he sighed and said: “Fine. Fine ... so, that’s it, then. It’s over.”
Noam didn’t know what to say to that.
He didn’t have any better ideas.
Except ...
“What if he couldn’t drain my magic?”
Dara huffed in exasperation. “Yes, that would obviously be ideal, but—”
“Suppressants.”
Dara’s words dropped off midsentence. He was still breathing too fast, shoulders trembling as they rose and fell, but he sat down in the chair again with a heavy drop. “Suppressants.”
“One vial for me, one for Lehrer. We go to the Independence Day thing; we get Lehrer to spend a lot of magic at once somehow. And then before he can draw on my magic to recuperate, I inject myself with suppressant. He’ll have to suffer through it on his own. He’ll be weak. Fevermad.”
“And then ...” Dara grinned as the realization dawned. “We inject him. His body won’t be able to fight the suppressant off if he’s already—”
“Exactly.”
It was a shitty plan, and both of them knew it. But it was better than the alternative.
Neither Noam nor Dara could let Lehrer walk away from this.
A knock came at the door.
“Come in,” Dara said, twisting round in his seat just as Holloway stepped into the room.
Holloway’s gaze fell to Noam first. “You’re awake.”
“Barely.” Noam tried to smile, but it quickly became a grimace when he tried to push himself upright again.
“Careful,” Holloway said. “Don’t overdo it. Even aside from the physical injuries, you came here dangerously close to fevermadness. You need rest.”
“Thank you,” Noam said sincerely. “For letting us stay here. For ... everything.”
“Don’t thank me yet.”
Dara pulled his legs up onto the seat cushion and turned more fully in his chair to face Holloway. “Have you found a hotel?”
“Still a work in progress, I’m afraid,” said Holloway. “Temporarily abandoned, as I’ve arranged for your friend Miss Glennis to meet us here and heal the rest of Mr. Álvaro’s injuries.”
“Bethany,” Dara said with a clear note of relief. “That’s good—she’ll know what to do. She always ...”
He kept going, elaborating on some of Bethany’s more impressive healing feats, but something inside Noam had gone suddenly, horribly still.
Holloway.
