Dominick sensed that something had gone wrong even before he made it to the hotel room where Haatim’s mother stayed. The lobby stood nearly empty with few guests staying at this time of year.

“But you’re … you’re …” “Dead?” Nida grinned. “I was, but I am no longer.” “How?” Haatim asked. “How is this possible?”

The trip back to Lausanne passed uneventfully for Abigail. She kept expecting to see Colton, Anong, and Jack coming after her, but during her two days on the road and flying in, she never came across them.

Haatim noticed that the external security grid seemed to ramp up around the hotel each time another Council member showed up. Eleven such members resided here now, counting Frieda, which meant that only two more were on their way before deliberations could begin in Frieda Gotlieb’s trial.

Haatim rested in his room, reading a book. A knock sounded at the door. He assumed it must be Dominick, coming to spar some more, and didn’t feel in the mood. Not after everything that had happened earlier in the day.

“Did you find anything useful?” Abigail asked. “Not yet,” Mitchell said. He reclined on his beanbag chair with his water bong and stared at the ceiling.

Haatim walked down the hall on the third floor of the hotel, headed to the room where they held Frieda. He hadn’t gotten to see her much since her arrest but felt that the time had come to try and get some answers about what was going on.

Abigail arrived at her destination sometime in the afternoon. Not having eaten in almost twenty-four hours, she felt starved. However, covered in blood, she couldn’t risk stopping anywhere for food.

“Do you think Abigail’s all right?” Haatim asked. They sat resting in the lobby of the Council Hotel, out of the cold. Haatim felt exhausted and drained after the last several weeks of training with Dominick and wished he could go back to training with Frieda.