The rest of us hit the floor. This isn’t the Common Hall, but it’s close enough to trigger our usual response to danger—hide under the tables. I pull Marina down beside me. “Where’s Rue?” she asks. “I don’t know,” Annie says. I shrug. I couldn’t see Rueful before the lights came on; I can’t see him now. The lights are disorienting. They’re faster than ours and starker, giving every movement a choppy, half-frozen appearance. Reflective panels—no, people wearing reflective clothes—fill the doorway. Honoria doesn’t miss a beat; her pistol’s out of her waistband and in her hand, pointed at the closest target. If this happened at home, she would have dropped three of them by now. Marina looks like she’s in pain. “Close your eyes.” I squeeze her hand. With my other, I reach for Annie, who’s hanging on to Trey’s trouser leg to keep him close. I hear Trey’s gun slide lock into place. “Nobody shoot,” Annie shouts. “We’re friends.” “There aren’t any friendlies left,”
