فصل 3

Chapter 3

AFTER THE ASSEMBLY meeting, Call and Aaron were free to return to the party. Hors d’oeuvres were being passed around, but Call didn’t feel hungry. He was thinking about Havoc’s Chaos-ridden family and all the other Chaos-ridden animals out in the forest. Call didn’t remember being Constantine Madden, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t owe something to the innocent creatures Constantine had changed. There had to be something he could do.

“So how was the secret meeting?” Jasper asked, walking up with Celia and Tamara. All three of them looked bright-eyed and relaxed, like they’d been laughing a lot. Or maybe dancing. Some dancing had started on the other side of the party. Call eyed it with suspicion and alarm.

“Weird,” Aaron said, oblivious to Call’s mood. He grabbed a cheese puff off a passing waiter’s plate and stuffed it into his mouth. Then he made a muffled sound, appearing as though he’d planned to say more before hunger had taken over.

Call filled them in. “It was all about Chaos-ridden people and animals. Getting rid of them, basically.” “Not Havoc!” Tamara said, dark eyes horrified. Call was pleased with her for having the same reaction he’d had. It was nice to be reminded that Havoc was also important to his two best friends.

Two more waiters came by with plates and snacks. Call took three shrimp toasts from one and a chicken skewer from the other. He should probably try to eat something, he thought, though his stomach felt knotted. Jasper piled an enormous amount of food onto his plate and began shoveling his way through it with the determination of a shark.

“Havoc got a pass,” Call said. “But basically Graves is in cleanup mode. Everything that’s left over from the time of the Enemy of Death, he wants erased.” Tamara was clearly bubbling over with questions. “Did you —” she began, but then looked over at Celia and seemed to think better of it. Celia hadn’t been with them when they’d left the school to try to find Alastair. She didn’t know Call’s secret. “Never mind. We should just have fun tonight. Aaron, come on, dance with me.” Aaron managed to grab another cheese puff before he was seized by Tamara. He handed his empty plate to Jasper and disappeared into the mass of dancing people in a swirl of Tamara’s yellow skirts.

Celia gave Call a hopeful look he pretended not to see. With his leg, he had no hope of doing anything but embarrassing himself on a dance floor. Call smiled at her but said nothing. After the awkward moment had stretched out as long as an awkward moment possibly could, Celia sighed.

“I’m going to get a drink,” she said, and headed off toward an enormous punch bowl.

“Smooth,” said Jasper. “I guess everything they say about Constantine having deadly charisma was maybe not so accurate.” Out of all of them, Jasper was the only one who Call sometimes caught looking at him with suspicion or worry, as if maybe he didn’t know him at all.

“I’m not the Enemy,” Call said under his breath.

“Let’s test that,” said Jasper, glancing at Call’s plate. “The Enemy of Death would never give me his last chicken skewer.” Call handed it over without comment. He wasn’t that hungry, anyway.

“The Enemy of Death would also never introduce me to that hot girl who just waved at you.” Call looked over in surprise to see that the hot girl Jasper was talking about was actually a girl he’d met before, a friend of Tamara’s older sister, Kimiya. She had long black hair and elegant cheekbones. She waved when she saw him looking in her direction.

Call gave Jasper his most evil look. “You’re right,” he said, and walked off to find Alastair. He thought he’d seen him talking to Anastasia Tarquin, her silver hair bobbing above the crowd. Call was pushing through a knot of people by the drinks table when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

It was the girl Jasper had mentioned, Jennifer Matsui. She was a Gold Year, like Kimiya, and up close she was a head taller than Call.

“Callum!” she said brightly. “Congratulations on the award.”

“Thanks,” Call said, craning his neck to see Jasper staring at him from across the room, as if he couldn’t believe what was happening. “It was a very good … award.” That hadn’t been what he’d meant to say at all.

“I have something for you,” she said, dropping her voice to a low, conspiratorial whisper. “A pretty blond girl gave it to me.” She held out a folded piece of paper with Call’s name scribbled on it. Puzzled, he took it. Jennifer blew him a kiss and bounced off through the crowd, back toward Kimiya and the small knot of older students who were giggling together. Call saw a familiar face — Alex Strike, one of the few older students he was friends with. Alex and Kimiya had broken up last year, but from the way they were standing and laughing together, either they’d gotten back together or at least they were friends again.

Call unfolded the note.

Call, I need to talk to you alone. Meet me in the trophy room. — Celia.

For a long moment, he just stared at it, heartbeat accelerating. He tried to tell himself that he shouldn’t be worried, that Celia was his friend and that they’d taken lots of walks with Havoc outside the Magisterium. This wasn’t much different from that. But in his experience, when someone “needed to talk to you,” it was usually about something bad.

Or it could be the other thing, a dating thing. He’d seen the Bronze Year students hold hands and share drinks and giggle a lot in the Gallery. He really hoped she didn’t want to do that. But what if she did? And what if he wasn’t any good at it?

Besides, he didn’t even know where the Trophy Room was.

His palms had started to sweat.

Call gritted his teeth and wiped his hands on his pants. Hadn’t Jasper just been testing his Evil Overlordliness? That was what Call needed to focus on. Evil Overlords, even ones who might not remember Evil Overlording, shouldn’t be scared of meeting up with their friends who just happened to be girls. Call was going to be fine. He had this.

With renewed and slightly desperate optimism, he headed toward the tapestry map. He could see Tamara and Aaron, still dancing out on the floor with the others. He wondered if it had occurred to Tamara to ask him to dance, but he knew she would always choose Aaron first. He’d accepted it a long time ago. He didn’t even really mind.

Anyway, Celia had said to come alone. Which he should definitely do if this was going to be about dating. Which he really hoped it wasn’t.

According to the map, the Trophy Room wasn’t far. He headed away from the crowd, through a set of doors and down a marble corridor with small alcoves set into the walls, holding old manuscripts and artifacts. Call liked the clicking sounds his shoes made on the floor as he went. He stopped to peer at an old wristband that must have been the prototype for the one he wore. The leather had been worn thin and several of the stones were missing from their setting. He didn’t recognize the name of the mage who was on the plaque behind it, but the date of his death was 1609, which seemed like a very long time ago.

A few more steps and Call came to the Trophy Room. Over the door, a sign read AWARDS AND HONORS. The door was propped open, so he slipped noiselessly inside.

It was a dim, solemn room, smaller than the main hall. Like the hall, the space was illuminated by an enormous chandelier, this one with blown-glass arms in the shape of octopus tentacles, each sucker dripping with crystals, as though droplets of water clung to them. The walls were covered with a collection of plaques and medallions that must have been given to students at the Collegium.

Call was entirely alone.

He took a turn around the room, glancing at the pictures of mages on the walls, wishing for a window where he could look at a fish or something to pass the time. He was sure Celia would be along in a minute.

After several minutes passed, he took out the note again and reread it. Maybe he’d misunderstood. Maybe she’d written that she’d meet him in fifteen minutes or an hour. But no, the note didn’t specify any time.

After a few more minutes, he decided she wasn’t coming.

He felt unexpectedly glum. If this was his first date, it was a bust. Celia had probably written the note and then forgotten all about him and found someone else to dance with — someone who actually could dance. Maybe she was dancing with Jasper. Or she was waltzing around with an impressive Gold Year student who could tell her all about his achievements, and she was so mesmerized that she’d stood Call up. Later he’d meet her outside the Magisterium to walk Havoc and she’d wave it off. I was going to meet you, she’d say, but you know how it is when you meet someone who’s actually interesting! Time just flies.

Call looked at his reflection in the glass of a trophy case. His hair was sticking up. Probably Call would be alone forever, and die alone, and Alastair would bury him in a car graveyard.

The door opened; there were footsteps. Call whirled, but it wasn’t Celia standing there. It was Tamara and Aaron.

“What are you doing in the Trophy Room?” Tamara asked, frowning. “Are you okay?” Aaron looked around, puzzled. “Are you hiding in here?”

Call was entirely sure that nothing like this — being stood up and humiliated — had ever happened to Aaron. He was doubly sure nothing like this had happened to Tamara.

Come to think of it, what were Tamara and Aaron doing here together? What if they’d been going off to do some kind of hand-holding dating thing together? It was bad enough that Call was sure Tamara would always choose Aaron first, but if they were dating, then Aaron would always choose Tamara, too.

“Are you okay?” Aaron asked, frowning in confusion at Call’s silence. “Your dad told us he saw you come this way.” Relief washed over Call that they hadn’t come here to be alone, but to find him. Now all he had to do was figure out how to explain what he’d been doing. “Well,” he said, taking a step toward them, “you see —” He was cut off by a grind and screech, a terrible metallic sound. Call looked up to see the chandelier hurtling toward him, octopus arms and dazzling crystals and all.

“Call!” Tamara screamed. The chandelier tumbled brilliantly down toward Call. Something hit him hard from the side. Pain shot up his leg as he struck the floor and skidded, someone’s fingers digging into the back of his jacket.

It was Tamara. He saw a blur of her dark hair and yellow dress, and then the chandelier hit the floor beside them. It was like a bomb going off. There was a horrible musical shattering. Shards of crystal exploded toward them. Call tried to curl his body around to block Tamara. He heard her scream, and then suddenly everything was very dark and quiet.

For a moment, Call wondered if he was dead. But it didn’t seem likely that the afterlife meant lying on a stone floor next to Tamara, while a black cloud hovered over them. Tamara was gasping, wide-eyed. Call rolled to the side awkwardly and stared.

Aaron was standing over them, his hand outstretched. Dark, nebulous chaos spilled from his palm, forming a wall around Tamara and Call, drawing into itself the flying bits of broken glass and crystal from the shattered chandelier. Call tried to call out to Aaron, but the chaos sucked away his voice.

He could feel a pull inside him — Call was Aaron’s counterweight, and when Aaron used chaos magic, he felt it. The room beyond Aaron seemed to be wavering — and then Aaron dropped his hand and the darkness vanished.

Call staggered to his feet, reaching down to pull Tamara up after him. One of her cheeks had been cut by a piece of flying glass and was bleeding. Tamara was clutching his arm in a death grip, but now that she was standing, he thought she might be holding him up. Aaron was leaning against the wall, wide-eyed and breathing hard from exertion.

“What,” he said in a raspy voice, “just happened?”

Before Call could answer, the doors flew open and the other partygoers flooded into the room.