Ames stood at the foot of the stairs, one hand still outstretched and her face a lurid mask, magic glittering between her fingers. Taye was right behind her, service weapon drawn and the collar of his Level IV–issue dress uniform gone askew.
“Fuck,” Ames shouted, and Dara had never seen her like this, luminous with rage. She hurled another burst of magic at Lehrer when he tried to get up, this one violent enough to crack his skull against the stone. Lehrer fell still.
For a moment they all stared at the sight of Lehrer—unconscious, a slow trickle of blood seeping down his brow, rendered abruptly and unmistakably human.
“I was just gonna point the gun at him,” Taye said, “but okay.”
Dara’s legs couldn’t hold him anymore. He sank down the wall, still staring at Lehrer’s body. “How did you ... how did you know I was ...?”
Taye holstered his weapon. “I was watching, remember?”
Ames moved closer to Lehrer—gingerly this time, like some part of her still expected him to rise up and kill them all. She nudged him with the toe of her boot. Lehrer made a soft, pained noise and didn’t move, so Ames braced herself against the column for leverage and kicked him in the ribs with the full force of her body weight.
The heat was finally draining from Dara’s head, thoughts reconstructing themselves in his mind shard by shard, and—
“Noam,” Dara breathed.
He dragged himself upright, staggering across the crypt. The force of Ames’s blow had sent Noam sprawling aside, fallen next to one of the bronze memorial plaques. Dara hunched over him and turned his face toward the dim light overhead. He was still breathing, but barely.
“Shit,” Ames said, when she finally stepped over Lehrer’s unconscious form and saw Noam. “Is he—fuck—”
“He’s alive,” Dara said, but it felt like a plea—Let him stay that way.
Noam was the gray color of bone dust, his skin so hot it hurt to touch.
“I’ll get help,” Taye said, and he dashed up the steps out of the crypt as Ames knelt down next to Dara and helped him tip Noam’s head back to keep his airway open, stripping off Noam’s jacket as if that’d be enough to cool his fever.
When Taye returned, it was with medics—but also with the army, antiwitching soldiers who escorted them up into the chapel, guns trained at their napes. But as they stepped out into the evening air, Dara curled his cuffed hands into soft fists and turned his face toward the sky, each breath a staggering reminder that he was alive.
Audio-recorded interview clips with suspects in the March 14 CNU terror attack.
INTERVIEWER: This is Investigator Price, badge number 0420-319, interviewing Dara Shirazi at the National Intelligence Agency headquarters, interview room number 4. Mr. Shirazi has waived his right to an attorney. Mr. Shirazi, can you tell me again what happened in the crypt?
DARA: Is Lehrer here?
INTERVIEWER: Don’t worry about that right now.
DARA: Answer the question first. Is he still suppressed?
INTERVIEWER: Chancellor Lehrer is still in the hospital. Your friends could have done serious damage.
DARA: But is he suppressed?
INTERVIEWER: The chancellor is still unconscious. Suppressants are illegal.
DARA: You should make an exception.
INTERVIEWER: Those are very serious allegations, Miss Glennis.
BETHANY: It was a very serious crime.
INTERVIEWER: Do you have any proof that these acts occurred?
BETHANY: You really should be talking to Noam about this.
CLAIRE: I’m a Texan citizen. Before I answer any questions, I want to speak to a representative of my embassy.
DARA: For the hundredth time, no. We weren’t trying to kill him. We’re Level IV–trained cadets, and he was suppressed. If we wanted to kill Lehrer, he’d be dead.
