Dara could practically taste it in the air. He knew they all did too, sharp and pungent:possibility.
No matter whether they trusted Noam yet, this was a hard offer to disregard. All their plans revolved around suppressing Lehrer—and that had always been a long shot, Dara knew. Lehrer healed so quickly. He might metabolize the suppressant before it could bind to the proper receptors in his brain, the same way he couldn’t get drunk, no matter how well he liked that expensive scotch.
They held out hope, still; suppressant was fast acting, and Lehrer couldn’t heal if he didn’t have magic. But that was probably unrealistic. Their best bet was, hadalwaysbeen, discovering some weakness of Lehrer’s to exploit.
And the vaccine ... that might actually work.
Holloway was the first to break the fragile silence that followed Noam’s words, slipping off his barstool and slinging his satchel strap over one shoulder. “Although this has been productive, I’m afraid I must be getting back. I’m expecting a late conference call.”
“Of course,” Claire said smoothly, interjecting before the conversation could tilt back toward Noam and his suggestion. A suggestion Dara felt certain they’d all be discussing quite seriously in Noam’s absence while Priya drew up a cost-benefit analysis of trusting him. “I’ll be in touch. Thank you, Maxim.”
Holloway tipped his hat as he left, letting in a fresh flurry of snow.
Claire’s dark gaze fixed itself on Dara’s for a moment, then slid over to look at Noam again. “We can’t assume suppressants won’t work,” she said. “We have to test it. You said you have access to him.”
“Ye-es,” Noam dragged out the word, like he worried where this line of inquiry was headed.
Claire drew a small vial out of her coat pocket and slid it down the bar. Noam caught the glass before it could roll off the counter and shatter, lifting it so the light glittered off its clear contents.
“Suppressant,” Claire confirmed before Dara could say it. “Completely tasteless. Dose him with it; see what happens.”
“I’ve tried that,” Noam said. “I bought a few vials off the dark net and poured them in his scotch. It didn’t work.”
“Did you test them first?” Priya asked.
A pause, and then Noam shook his head. “No. I didn’t dose myself, if that’s what you mean.”
“Then how do you know they were even the real deal? People sell anything on the black market. It was probably sugar water.”
Noam’s lips pressed into a thin line; Dara could see a muscle twitching in his jaw. He didn’t want to take the risk.
And why should he? Why would he give up his cozy little slice of domestic bliss?
Dara downed the rest of his club soda in one swallow and wished it were something stronger.
“Fine,” Noam said. “Okay. I’ll do it tomorrow.”
“Excellent. You have Dara’s number, I presume. Text him when you’re done.”
Noam nodded, and it took Dara a second to realize—of course. Noam was a technopath. Dara didn’t have to tell Noam his burner number for Noam to know it.
Claire adjourned the meeting, and they all followed Holloway’s lead, chair legs scraping against the floor and glasses clinking against wood as they were set on the countertop. Leo snapped his towel a little too violently against the bar before he tossed it over his shoulder and started washing the dishes.I sympathize,Dara wanted to say.
But Noam lingered back, a still figure in his olive drabs as the others shrugged on coats and looped scarves around necks. Dara turned away, pretending to care about rolling his shirtsleeves down and doing up the cuffs. His thumb kept slipping on the button.
“Dara.”
Dara clenched his jaw and forced the button through its hole.
“Dara,” Noam said again, almost pleading this time.
Leo met Dara’s gaze from across the bar and arched a brow. It was a message Dara had seen telegraphed by a dozen bartenders over the years:Need me to get rid of him?
Dara exhaled and twisted around to face Noam at last, arms crossed over his chest. “Álvaro.”
Noam was closer than he’d expected. Close enough Dara nearly flinched back on reflex—damn it. Another instinct he’d lost with his telepathy. He had no sense anymore of how close people were if he couldn’t see them. He’d become like prey, nervous and jumping at the slightest sound.
Noam had noticed Leo, too; his gaze flickered over to him twice. But if Noam had hoped Leo would get the message and retreat to give them privacy, he was out of luck. Leo just wandered a little closer under the guise of putting away a clean glass.
