“These programs, and the Level IV program in particular, are designed to take advantage of the unique gifts and abilities of witching youth,” said Lehrer. “The programs will allow witching children to master their magic in a safe environment and help them develop new strengths with which they can become vital and productive members of Carolinian society.”
The first cohort of students has already been recruited. Fifty-six total witching youth will be admitted as cadets, with three to attend Level IV.
CHAPTERSIX
DARA
Claire found him in the apartment thirty minutes past one in the morning. He lay on the bed with the sheets kicked down around his ankles and face turned toward the ceiling, and only flinched a little when she slammed the door shut.
“What the hell, Dara?”
He tipped his head enough to see the look on her face: furious, of course, although that consternated expression might be from the cold air. “Hi, Claire.”
“Don’t you ‘hi, Claire’ me. I’m waiting for your explanation.” She thrust both eyebrows up toward her hairline and folded her arms over her chest. “I can’t believe you. You were supposed to wait for my signal, then shoot him—not walk right up to his face and start a casual conversation!”
“I know.”
“Now he knows you’re still alive. He’ll have half the Ministry of Defense out looking for you. We’re so screwed. We’resoscrewed.”
“I know.”
“Stop sayingI know!”
“Sorry.” Dara pushed himself up, even though moving hurt. His bones were like glass, hollow and so, so breakable. He leaned back against the wall and breathed out and refused to think about where Noam was right now. Who he was with. “I do know, though. But it’s too late for that. We need to think about what we’re going to do next.”
Claire jabbed a finger in his direction. “Whatyou’regonna do next is sit right here and keep your face out of the public eye until Lehrer’s dead in the ground. Got it?”
“Got it.”
Claire puffed out a heavy breath and paced the narrow length of the apartment, floorboards creaking with every step. Her hands were clenched into fists. “Okay. Okay, we’ll figure it out. I’ll call a meeting—we can talk to Holloway and the others in the ministry and figure out how much Lehrer has guessed. Then we’ll come up with a game plan.” She paced another lap, then shot a glance over at Dara, still on the bed. “Who was that with Lehrer, anyway? The teenager.”
“Noam Álvaro.”
She stopped pacing. “Really? That was Lehrer’s new protégé?”
Dara nodded.
“Huh. Thought he’d be younger.”
So she hadn’t noticed anything strange about the way Lehrer had been with Noam—or if so, she wasn’t admitting it out loud. Was Dara reading too far into things? Was this just paranoia and old grudges clouding his judgment?
Dara rested his chin in his palm, fingers curved just so to hide the set of his mouth.
He questioned himself like this, when he was younger. Used to think if he’d been a little less foolish, hadn’t gotten himself involved with Lehrer in games he was too young to understand ...
It took a long time for Dara to trust himself. He wasn’t about to start doubting now.
He knew what he saw.
“What do you think?” Claire wondered aloud, pausing by the window to peer out at the dark street. “Could he be turned? Or manipulated, perhaps? If he’s close to Lehrer, he could be a valuable resource.”
“I’m not sure.” Dara would kill for a drink; he really would. Or seven drinks. “He helped me escape into the quarantined zone—but he also chose to stay with Lehrer. The pair of them are ...” Dara didn’t know how to explain it to Claire, the things Noam thought he owed Lehrer—but also the way Noam didn’t trust anyone, not even Lehrer. Certainly not Dara. Eventually Dara shrugged and said, “It doesn’t matter. Lehrer probably has him under persuasion, anyway.”
“Is there any way to tell for sure?”
“No.” Even when he had telepathy, Dara couldn’t always tell. Lehrer’s power didn’t leave a mark in someone’s mind—not a visible one, anyway. The mind wasn’t a box of thoughts he could sieve through at leisure. He could only read what people were actively thinking about. So unless they were reminiscing on all the nasty orders Lehrer’d given them of late, Dara had been as blind as anyone else.
He drew his hand away from his mouth.
