THE ELECTRIC HEIR
Page 21
“I know.” Noam at least had the grace to look guilty about it. “And I’m so, so sorry about that, Dara. But we can’t risk Lehrer finding you here.”
“How am I supposed to get food, Álvaro?”
Something brightened in Noam’s expression. “Oh, you eat now? I can bring you something—I can teach Claire and Priya how to take down the wards. Don’t worry. And I’ll—I’ll visit you, so you won’t be lonely.”
He looked so goddamn earnest, weight shifting from foot to foot and gaze fixed on Dara’s face like he actually thought Dara was going to be okay with this plan.
It would be endearing if it weren’t so annoying.
“I don’t want you to put up wards.”
Noam shrugged. “Well, I don’t want you to die. So it seems we find ourselves at an impasse.”
The problem was Noam had a point. If Lehrer came here, Dara had no way of defending himself. And it wouldn’t take much for Ames to figure out where his apartment was. But he couldn’t just move, either—couldn’t be seen out in public again or take the risk of commuting from a new place to Leo’s bar every time they had to meet.
He imagined Lehrer stepping in through that door, tall enough to block out the light from the hall outside. The latch would click shut, and Lehrer’s voice would be low and soft: You’re not as clever as you seem to think, Dara.
Both Dara’s hands curled into fists.
“How will you even get away from him long enough to visit?” Dara said in lieu of a real answer. He cocked a brow. “Lehrer’s going to notice. Don’t you practically live with him now?”
Noam sighed, one hand lifting to scrub the back of his head. “Dara . . .”
“It’s not just that I’m angry,” Dara interjected. He took a step back, dropping down onto the edge of his narrow bed. The room was small enough they still weren’t that far apart. He could have lifted one leg and kicked his toe against Noam’s shin. “I need you to understand—I need you to see how sick this is. Because you clearly don’t.”
“I know it’s sick. That doesn’t make it any less necessary.”
“Just because he can’t persuade you anymore doesn’t mean he hasn’t brainwashed you all the same. Do you really think all this happened organically? That you got involved with Lehrer through a series of accidents—that you chose this?” Dara laughed, and it felt like acid in his chest. “Lehrer has been planning this from the beginning. Ever since he met you. After all . . . anyone could have trained you. Anyone could give you remedial lessons. But Lehrer took a personal interest. Didn’t it occur to you to wonder why that was?”
Noam swallowed visibly. “I—of course it did. But it was just the coup, Dara. He wanted to use my power to overthrow Sacha.”
Sometimes Dara wished Noam were the telepath. Because if Noam could see into Dara’s mind—see all the things Lehrer had done, rather than just hear about them—maybe he’d finally understand.
“You think he couldn’t overthrow Sacha on his own? He wanted you. And so he made sure he had you.”
But Noam was already shaking his head, and if Dara’d still had his magic, he would have felt those walls going up in Noam’s mind brick by brick. “You don’t get it,” Noam said. “I told you. I haven’t slept with him. Not since you came back.”
“Wow,” Dara said, “congrats, that’s a real achievement—”
“But he could have made me,” Noam cut in. “If what you’re saying is true, he could make me. At any time. He could use persuasion to force me. It wouldn’t work, of course, with the Faraday shield—but he hasn’t even tried.”
Dara stared at him, all his thoughts temporarily gone to white static.
He hasn’t even tried.
“I don’t know what you’re trying to say,” Dara managed, the words coming out uneven and full of rough edges. “Are you saying he’s—you think he cares about you? Or are you saying that I—that if only I’d been more like you, if I’d just been more—he wouldn’t have—”
The emotion rippled over Noam’s face like a sea change, and he lurched forward, a half step aborted at the last second. His hand, which had been reaching for Dara, curled into a loose fist. “No,” Noam said. “No—Dara, I don’t think that at all. I’m . . . god, I’m such a fucking asshole. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Didn’t you?”
“Of course not.” Noam bit his lower lip hard enough it looked like it hurt; then he gestured toward the bed at Dara’s side. “Look. Can I—can I sit? Here?”
He at least waited for Dara to shrug before taking the seat, the mattress dipping under his weight and sending Dara tipping a little closer before Dara braced himself against the bed and shifted away again.
“I’m so sorry,” Noam said again. “I want you to know—I . . . I know how hard this must be for you. Or I can imagine. I swear I wouldn’t be doing this if I thought there were any other way. It kills me to see how much this hurts you, Dara.”
Clearly it doesn’t kill you enough, Dara almost said, but he pressed his lips together instead and didn’t speak.
Noam turned his gaze from Dara’s face to his hands, which were clenched tight in his lap. Dara had learned to read every flicker of emotion on Noam’s face, had carefully paired every expression with its matching mental state after six months of reading Noam’s mind—months of watching him in secret over the edge of books and in late evenings as Noam spread his study materials all over the common room and settled in to work, pencil stuck behind one ear and his brow furrowed.
Noam was upset. No, more than that: distressed.
Good, a part of Dara thought viciously, and immediately regretted it.
He was a terrible person. A terrible friend. Ames had always said so.
Dara took a shallow breath. “Listen . . . that first night, after the gala, when you told me what happened with Lehrer . . . I didn’t respond the way I should have. I acted like any of this was your choice, but it wasn’t. I know that, Noam. You were sixteen, and drunk—it was never your choice.”
“Dara—”
“Let me finish,” Dara said, and Noam shut his mouth. “It’s like you told me when you confronted me about General Ames: things like that, when you’re a teenager, and especially with people in power . . . they aren’t consensual. They can’t be, by definition. I know you don’t want to hear it, and maybe it’s easier to believe you chose this, but that’s not how any of this works.” He managed a bitter smile. “Take it from someone who would know.”
It was more than Dara had ever been able to admit in the past—that General Ames had raped him, that what Lehrer did—to both Dara and Noam—certainly fell under the same category, no matter what lies they’d told themselves in order to maintain some sense of agency.
Maybe it was okay to admit helplessness. Maybe it didn’t make them weak.
Not at all.
Next to him, Noam had gone a sickly shade of gray, his fingers digging in hard at his own thighs. Dara chewed his own lip and wished with all his heart there was something he could say or do to make that sickness Noam felt go away. But there wasn’t. Not without lying to him—and Dara would never do that.
“I’m sorry I lost my temper,” Dara said instead. “I was so angry. And . . . scared. I didn’t want it to be true either. I didn’t want to feel like I’d failed you by leaving you there alone.”
“You didn’t,” Noam said, finally lifting his gaze back to Dara’s. “I left you, remember? I sent you out there to die.”
“Only because I asked you to.”
“Still.”
Dara wanted to unravel all those tangled threads of guilt and shame in Noam’s mind. He might not be able to read Noam’s thoughts directly, but he could still sense those emotions knotted up behind Noam’s eyes. It hurt, a visceral kind of pain that Dara had never felt for anyone else. Not before he met Noam.
“Have you had any luck finding the vaccine?” Dara asked, nudging the conversation back onto—somewhat—safer ground.
&n
bsp; “No,” Noam admitted after a moment. “Not yet, but I’ve found a lot of other useful material. For the leak. Letters, recordings from after the catastrophe . . . that kind of thing.”
“Oh,” Dara said. “Well, that’s . . . good.”
“I know it’s not enough—”
“No,” Dara interjected firmly. “It’s fine. It’s a start.” He held Noam’s gaze long enough to see Noam’s expression soften. Dara shrugged one shoulder. “For a long time, that was the most I could do, as well. I felt so . . . inefficacious. But it was better than nothing.”
Noam gave him a small, tense smile. He rested his hand on the bed between them, and Dara knew what he was asking, knew . . . knew he should probably make Noam leave. A few PDFs leaked online wasn’t enough to justify Noam staying in place. Even the vaccine wasn’t worth Noam risking his life.
Dara couldn’t imagine a world that didn’t have Noam in it. He didn’t want to think about living the rest of his life if Noam wasn’t out there somewhere talking some poor idiot’s ear off about computers and communism. Dara let his hand drift to the side, curling his fingers around Noam’s palm. He heard the audible sharp intake of Noam’s breath a beat before Noam tightened his grip around Dara’s hand in turn.
“Can I visit you tomorrow?” Noam asked.
Dara wanted to say no . . . but after a moment he nodded. Noam’s thumb swept a path along the back of Dara’s hand. Dara wished that simple contact didn’t still send shivers down his spine.
“I’ll bring you some things,” Noam said. “Food, tea, cigarettes—books, if you want. Is there anything you need?”
“Lehrer’s head on a spike.”
Noam laughed. “Yeah, well. I’m working on that.”
To his surprise, Dara smiled—and although he turned his face away quickly, it was too late; Noam had already seen. Dara felt Noam press a soft kiss to the top of his shoulder—and then Noam drew back, releasing Dara’s hand as he rose to his feet.
“Are you okay if I . . . can I put up that ward?”
Dara braced both hands against the edge of the bed. “Fine.”
Noam grinned at him, looking far more pleased with himself than Dara thought warranted. He turned his gaze toward the ceiling, performing the necessary magic—not that Dara could sense it.
It didn’t take long. “Getting faster,” Noam declared smugly when he was finished. “Just a matter of practice . . . listen, I’ll show Claire and Priya how to bypass the ward. It’s literally a big magic technological lock screen, so all they need is the right code to get in. Easy enough.”
“For you.”
“Exactly. For me. And not for Lehrer.” Noam arched a brow. “You’ve seen his apartment. He probably doesn’t even know what a computer looks like.”
Dara had more things to say to that, snappish and cruel remarks that could wipe that smile off Noam’s face—but he was tired of it. He was exhausted, and he’d literally just apologized.
He didn’t want to fight anymore.
“Okay,” he said. “Well, then. I’m going to sleep. It’s not like I have anything better to do in here.”
“I’ll bring you books,” Noam said again, painfully sincere, and Dara just waved a hand.
“Sure. Tomorrow, then.”
Noam took the cue this time.
The room felt smaller with him gone, the bland white walls drawing in suffocatingly close. Dara lay down on his bed, face turned toward the ceiling, and clenched his eyes shut against the traitorous heat prickling there.
He hadn’t felt so trapped since . . .
. . . his old bedroom, a line dripping suppressant into his veins, the soft chill of Lehrer’s voice: “You know you only have yourself to blame.”
Dara’s next breath crystallized like ice in his lungs.
He opened his eyes, just to prove to himself he wasn’t there—that the ceiling was the cracked ceiling of this shitty apartment, not the ceiling of his old bedroom with the sticky glue leftover from the glow-in-the-dark stars he’d pasted there as a child—the stars he’d torn down and thrown away after that first time he’d stared up at them while—while—
Dara lurched out of bed and paced over to the window instead, pressing his brow against the cold glass and staring down at the sidewalk below.
Noam was long gone. Dara couldn’t even tell which footprints in the snow were his.
He’d never wanted a drink more in his life.
Dara scrubbed his hands over his face, dragging fingers back through his hair. Calm down. It didn’t do much good. Already he needed to leave, to break down that door and go . . . anywhere, anywhere he could feel the cold air on his skin and see faces that didn’t belong in the spotty mirror over that dresser and touch objects that didn’t live in this room.
Useless. He was useless, magic-less, good for nothing but sitting locked in a room while witchings went and saved the world.
He should have shot Lehrer when he had the chance. Even if it didn’t work, even if Dara was the one who died.
Dying was better than doing nothing.
Stolen from the digital records of Calix Lehrer:
DATE: 6 March 2123
PHYSICIAN’S NOTE: Routine exam.
Name: Lehrer, Calix Markus
DOB: 2 January 2000
Address: Apt. 13, Carolinia Government Complex, Blackwell St., Durham, CAR
Citizenship: Republic of Carolinia
Parents or Legal Guardian (if under 18): Over 18
Blood Type: AB-
Status: Witching; Antibody titer: Present at 1:2; Presenting power: Not reported
Height: 6’ 10” Weight: 220 lbs.
Problem List: None
Previous Hospitalizations/Surgeries: Red ward (3 wks, age 2); coercively hospitalized at St. George’s w/ a number of exploratory and experimental surgeries (ages 12–16)
Encounter Notes: Patient presents for annual wellness check. No current complaints. Pt is healthy 123yo male who appears well nourished with good muscle bulk and adequate fat stores. Patient heart rate and respiration slightly elevated (HR 113, RR 25), blood pressure/temp within normal range (BP 121/70, T 37C). Suspect dehydration and fatigue have caused tachycardia and increased RR; recommended pt drink more water and pt agreed.
Diagnoses: Primary: Well patient; Secondary: None
DATE: 4 November 2122
PHYSICIAN’S NOTE: Mr. Álvaro is a recent admission to the Level IV training program.
Name: Álvaro, Noam Isaac Mendel
DOB: 30 July 2106
Address: c/o Colonel Sarah Howard, Level IV, Carolinia Government Complex, Blackwell St., Durham, CAR
Citizenship: Republic of Carolinia
Parents or Legal Guardian (if under 18): Ward of the state
Blood Type: AB-
Status: Witching; Antibody titer: Present at 1:2; Presenting power: Technopathy
Height: 6’ 2” Weight: 165 lbs.
Problem List: Iron-deficient anemia (mild)
Previous Hospitalizations/Surgeries: Appendectomy (age 14, performed while inmate at Federal Juvenile Detention Center); red ward (1 wk, age 16)
Encounter Notes:
Patient is 16yo male presenting for well child exam. No complaints today, no concerns. Recent treatment for moderate protein malnutrition and recent acute magic viral infection, now chronic carrier. Recovering well. Gaining weight appropriately. Reports greater independence and increased exercise capacity. Reports mood is good—interactive and engaging during clinic visit. Patient heart rate, blood pressure, temp all within normal range (HR 72, RR 16, BP 110/65, T 37C). Ordered routine blood tests.
Diagnoses: Primary: Well patient; Secondary: None
DATE: 6 May 2123
PHYSICIAN’S NOTE: Evaluation of fever, chills, joint pain.
Name: Shirazi, Dara
DOB: 25 October 2104
Address: c/o Minister Calix Lehrer, Apt. 13, Carolinia Government Complex. Blackwell St., Durham, CAR
Citizenship: Republic of Carolinia
Parents or Legal Guardian: Over 18
Blood Type: O-
Status: Witching; Antibody titer: Present at 1:2; Presenting power: Telepathy
Height: 5’ 9” Weight: [unknown; patient refused]
Problem List: History of ventricular arrhythmia secondary to severe metabolic derangements (hypokalemia); iron-deficient anemia due to malnutrition
Previous Hospitalizations/Surgeries: red ward (2 wks, age 4); laceration repair (performed magically by CL) and intentional overdose requiring ICU hospitalization (age 16)
Encounter Notes: Consultation on request of C. Lehrer. Pt is an 18yo male. Generally resistant to providing history so information obtained from his father, CL. Father brings in pt due to fevers, joint pain and excessive fatigue, concern for acute viral intoxication syndrome. No history of viral intoxication syndrome in the past. Age of primary infection: 4, ab titer: 1:2. Pt enrolled in Level IV—typical daily magic expenditure substantial at baseline but father reports recent drastic increase due to “teenage angst.” Father reports hx of polysubstance abuse, food restriction with self-induced vomiting. Last alcoholic drink 5–6 hours before presentation. History of withdrawal symptoms but no hospitalizations for withdrawal seizures or DTs.
Cachectic with temporal wasting. Tachycardic (heart rate 106, BP 92/40). QTc prolonged at 480, moderately febrile (temp 39C). No respiratory distress with clear lung sounds (RR 26). Abdominal exam benign. Fine resting tremor present. Diaphoretic. Moving all extremities spontaneously. Hyper—almost intentionally exaggerated—patellofemoral reflexes. Examination revealed bruise on right lateral bicep.
Pt is a high-dynamics witching in a competitive training environment. Possible viral intoxication syndrome although symptoms likely multifactorial, including sequelae of moderate to severe malnutrition, polysubstance abuse with possible withdrawal syndrome. Differential diagnosis/rule out: systemic lupus erythematosus, acute infection, liver failure, severe hypokalemia, alcohol withdrawal syndrome.
Offered inpatient treatment for constellation of symptoms and physical exam findings suggesting multiple possible life-threatening conditions. However, patient appears to have decision-making capacity and he and his father, who is his legal power-of-attorney in any case, declined. I warned him about my concerns for life-threatening arrhythmia and withdrawal and strongly recommended close monitoring, preferably inpatient.