Noam clenched his jaw so hard he heard his teeth grinding together. “Tell her whatever you want. You’re clearly dying to justcome out withwhatever the hell it is you think—”
“What Ithink?” Ames laughed and took a sharp step forward, bringing her close enough Noam had no choice but to move back. “Dara’s alive, Noam. He’s fucking—he’salive. So you have to stop this fucking—thisbullshit, okay?” She shoved him with both hands, making him stumble back again. She leaned in, bringing her face near his; he couldn’t tell if her skin was wet from the snow or if she was crying now. Every breath she took hitched in her throat. “You know what Lehrer did to him. Youknow.”
And Noam wasn’t—he couldn’t deny it, couldn’t look her in the eye and ... there was a strange weight in his chest, heavy and painful as a bullet. He shook his head once, twice, sucked in a shallow lungful of air that didn’t do much against the way the room had started spinning.
Ames was right. Dara was right. And Noam was the worst fucking person in the world, because—
“You two, break it up!”
One of the guards was halfway across the atrium already, a hand resting on his comm. Ames stepped back, her mouth twisted in a cruel smile.
“I’ll see you around, Álvaro.”
She turned on her heel and stalked off toward the training wing, the wet soles of her boots squeaking on the floor and leaving a watery trail in her wake. He watched her go with a dark knot in his throat, one he couldn’t swallow down no matter how many times he tried.
“Everything all right, Mr. Álvaro?” the guard asked when he was close, and Noam shook his head—then nodded, quickly, and forced half a laugh.
“Yeah. Sorry. Fine. Just ... it’s fine.”
And he tried very hard not to think about when he’d becomeMr. Álvaro. About when he’d become so much a fixture in this part of the government complex that the night guards knew him by name.
It was a silent walk through the halls and up the stairs back to Lehrer’s apartment. He was starting to hate how empty the west wing was in the evenings. The silence made it too clear he wasn’t supposed to be here. Why hewashere.
He hesitated in Lehrer’s study, standing there on the plush carpet with his magic already tangled up in Lehrer’s wards.
Maybe he shouldn’t. Maybe he should go back to Level IV, like Ames said. It didn’t have to be a ... athing. It wasn’t like he and Lehrer were together. They just ...
He could end it all.
Put Dara out of his misery.
But if he did that, he’d give up any chance of finding the vaccine.
Ames was right. Noam did know what Lehrer had done to Dara. And he was going to make sure Lehrer fucking suffered for it.
He tugged down Lehrer’s wards, letting himself into the apartment. They re-formed behind him automatically, glittering gold threads knitting together in an impenetrable tapestry. The living room was dark, only a single lamp lit on the table by Lehrer’s usual armchair, which was empty. For a moment Noam thought maybe this was a sign after all, but then Lehrer’s voice drifted down the hall: “Come here, Noam.”
There was no choice but to obey.
Noam padded down the hall, damp socks squelching on the hardwood floor. Lehrer was in the bedroom, dressed in the T-shirt and loose flannels he usually slept in, a sheaf of paper held in one hand. He stood somewhere between the bathroom and the closet, like he’d been pacing back and forth before Noam showed up. He was barefoot.
“I was wondering when you’d show up,” Lehrer said, cool gaze traversing Noam’s wet hair, then dipping down his body—Noam’s clothes as sodden as his socks. At last, his eyes flicked back up to Noam’s face. His mouth pressed into a thin line. “I take it the meeting ran late.”
Noam got the hint. He shrugged off his sweater, peeling the wet fabric away from his skin. “Ames confronted me on my way out,” he said. “She made me take her with me. So. She’s involved now.”
Which Lehrer knew already, of course—not that it showed on his face.
“What else?”
“Well, she definitely figured out about this.” Noam gestured broadly between himself and Lehrer. “She made that clear.”
Lehrer waved a dismissive hand. “Inconsequential. Carter knows when to keep things to herself. The meeting, Noam.”
“I told them you were worried about Texas,” Noam said. “Claire and Priya are going to try to get in touch with one of Claire’s Texan contacts, see if we can get our hands on their antiwitching tech schematics.”
“Good. Play that out. What else?”
“That was pretty much it. Lots of talk about the Atlantian independence protests. Oh—Claire is the one who shot you, by the way. Claire Jackson. Obviously that was a no-go, so they’re all fumbling around trying to come up with a plan B.”
