The Fever King (Feverwake #1)(35)

Noam hovered there, useless. They were both breathing heavily, the air gone humid between them. Noam magnetized the rest of the stairwell doors just in case.

At last, after Noam had started to worry they’d simply run out of oxygen in the staircase and suffocate, Dara tucked the fake gun into the back waistband of his drabs. He glanced over his shoulder at Noam, whites of his eyes gleaming in the strange light.

“Now.”

Noam demagnetized the door.

The hall outside was pitch black except for the flicker of emergency lights casting weak green pools on the floor every twenty feet. If anyone was in the hall a moment ago they were gone now, scurrying away in the rooms branching off both sides.

This was insane. Noam was trespassing on government property with a flopcell full of treason and a crazy boy wielding a gun. A crazy boy who had also been trespassing on government property. Noam hadn’t forgotten that Dara neglected to mention what he’d been doing here.

Noam crept in Dara’s wake. The doors they passed loomed like great blank eyes, marking the two trespassers even if the blinded cameras couldn’t.

“Careful,” Dara said, looking back at him, and Noam realized his fingers sparked with electricity.

He balled his hands into fists and nodded, and after a moment, Dara reached over for his wrist again. This time his touch was light, just the barest pressure against Noam’s pulse point, guiding him forward. Dara’s magic was as palpable as a thousand quivering strings.

Noam never in his life felt so alive.

“You there! Hey—you!”

He and Dara whipped round. A man strode down the hall toward them. He wore a general’s uniform, and if the blue ribbon on his button hadn’t betrayed him as a witching, the way he held one hand aloft—as if prepared to stun them both with a jolt of magic where they stood—certainly would have.

Noam’s mind seared white. He started toward the end of the hall, ready to run, but Dara grabbed his arm at the last second.

The general lowered his hand, crossing those last steps to Dara and Noam with a slow frown settling onto his lips. “What are you doing here?”

He was looking at Dara, not Noam.

“Oh, you know,” Dara said. He waved a hand in the air, casual as anything. “Boyish exploration.”

Noam expected the general to snap or call for backup. But instead he sighed, as if Dara were a disobedient son and not a trespasser on government property.

“Even you aren’t allowed to wander around secure areas without a chaperone, Dara,” the general said, folding arms over his broad chest. He looked down his nose at the pair of them. “And who is your friend?”

“That’s Noam,” Dara said before Noam could introduce himself. “He’s new. Needed the grand tour.”

“I see.”

Noam couldn’t stop staring at Dara. He’d never seen him act like this. Gone was the moody boy Noam knew, all traces of his usual sullenness evaporated. There was even something mischievous about the subtle curve of Dara’s mouth, the way he tilted his head to the side.

He was magnetic.

“So-oo,” Dara said, when several seconds had passed without anyone speaking, “are you going to escort us off the premises or not, General Ames?”

Ames? Like the Ames in Level IV?

Only, no—this was Ames Ames. General Gordon Ames, home secretary of Carolinia. Of course Dara knew him. If he grew up here, under Lehrer’s care, he must know everybody. So how come he hadn’t been recognized, wandering around here when he clearly wasn’t allowed?

Illusion magic.

Dara must have made himself look like somebody else and dropped the guise when he ran into Noam.

But why? If he had illusion, he could have walked right out of this place amid the throng of government employees flooding the exits.

That meant . . .

Dara only dropped the illusion because of Noam.

He’d done it to save Noam. Because he didn’t want to leave Noam behind.

But you hate me, Noam thought as he stared at the side of Dara’s face, the elegant lines of his features in profile so beautiful but always so, so cold. Why would you help me?

“’Fraid I can’t do that, Dara,” Ames said, shaking his head. “We’re on total lockdown. Someone tried to hack the Ministry of Defense servers, so no one leaves campus until the building’s been swept down.”

Fuuuuuck. Noam’s fingernails dug so hard into his palms he thought he might have split the skin.

Only . . . technopathy wasn’t traceable. And he’d been on Holloway’s absurdly unsecured personal computer, not cracking Lehrer’s department. He shot another tiny sidelong glance at Dara.

“Oh, come on,” Dara said. He took a half step closer to the general, that fey smile curving farther along his lips. “You know we’re not supposed to be here. We’re going to get in trouble. You’ve known me since I was five. I’m not a spy. Can’t this be our little secret?”

It was a long cry from the way Dara acted with Lehrer. If Noam didn’t know better, he’d think Dara was flirting, which was ridiculous, but really?

But Ames just gave Dara another fond smile. “I’m afraid this is the worst possible time for you to be out of bounds, Dara. I have to call Minister Lehrer. But I’m sure he can sweep this under the rug.”