فصل 4

Chapter 4

HOURS PASSED, DURING which Call dozed on and off. He was keyed up but also exhausted. He kept thinking of Alastair — how would his dad know where he was? He’d know Call had escaped from prison. Pretty soon everyone in the mage world would know there was a Makar on the loose. Call thought of his dad being worried and felt hollow inside.

Tamara didn’t sleep. Every time Call opened his eyes he saw her staring miserably into the dark. Once, tears were sliding down her face. He wondered if she was upset because the jailbreak hadn’t worked. Or maybe she was missing Aaron.

Tamara had saved Call’s life when Alex Strike had been trying to steal his chaos magic. But in saving Call’s life, she had doomed Aaron. Aaron, the nicest and best guy Call had ever known.

She could have saved either one of them and she had chosen Call. No one in their right mind would choose Call.

He didn’t wonder if she regretted it. He wondered how much she regretted it. Or at least he had, until Anastasia’s words.

Now he didn’t know what to think. On the one hand, he wanted to believe it. On the other hand, the source was Anastasia and she wasn’t exactly reliable.

The van finally thumped to the ground in a landing that tossed them all onto the floor. The back doors were flung open by Alex Strike. Call felt his flesh crawl again at the sight of Alex and wondered if he’d ever get used to seeing him. Ever not feel the urge to make Alex’s head swell and pop like an overripe berry.

He didn’t want to get used to it.

“Welcome home,” Alex said, stepping back so they could pile out of the van. He wasn’t alone — there was a half circle of Chaos-ridden behind him. Master Joseph was nowhere to be seen.

Overhead the sun was setting in a blaze of red and purple. They were on an island, in the middle of a wide river — banks were visible on either side in the distance. Wild grass grew uncut among lilac trees.

In front of the vans rose a massive house of yellow stone with towers, like those of a castle. There was a huge porticoed entrance. It put even Tamara’s family home to shame in terms of size, although the weeds around it were overgrown and the place itself looked both long abandoned and a little weird.

Havoc, freed from the confines of the van, barked loudly. Call was about to shush him when a chorus of barks and howls answered.

Tamara’s eyes widened. “Other Chaos-ridden wolves,” she said as the noise went on. It was beautiful and eerie. Havoc seemed not to know what to do with himself — he lunged forward curiously before cringing back against Call’s leg. Call stroked his head.

Alex laughed. “Stupid animal.”

Tamara bristled. “Don’t talk about Havoc that way.”

“Who says I was talking about Havoc?” Alex started up the stairs toward the front door of the house. The Chaos-ridden started to move as well, herding Call, Jasper, and Tamara toward the entrance to the house.

They went through the big front doors, into a massive entryway. A huge stained-glass chandelier hung from a roof, lost in shadows overhead. A wide stairway climbed the inside of the entryway, leading to who-knew-how-many floors. Over a fireplace, Constantine Madden’s silver mask hung — the very mask that Master Joseph had been wearing the first time Call had seen him, the mask that had allowed Master Joseph to play the part of Constantine for so long while he’d waited for Call to grow up and take Constantine’s place.

Above it hung the Alkahest, air shimmering around it to indicate some kind of magical defense. Once created to destroy a Chaos-user, Alex had somehow modified it to steal Chaos. He’d used it to kill Aaron and steal his power. If it wasn’t for the Alkahest, there would be no band of Chaos-ridden obeying Alex. If it wasn’t for the Alkahest, Aaron wouldn’t be dead.

Jasper made an impressed noise. Tamara glared at him.

“Yes, it’s a nice little cottage,” said Alex airily. “Come along. You” — he flicked his fingers toward the Chaos-ridden — “can stay here.” Call and his companions trailed after Alex into a big room with a farmhouse table running down the center. Master Joseph was there, stirring the contents of an enormous cauldron with a heavy metal spoon.

“Ah,” he said. “Glad to see you made it. See, everything is very civilized here. This isn’t like the prison you came from.” But it’s a prison all the same, Call thought. Still, he let Master Joseph speak a few words over his cuffs and pull them off his wrists. He rubbed the skin underneath self-consciously.

“Where’s Anastasia?” he asked. She made him uncomfortable, but he did believe she was looking out for his well-being.

“Upstairs, getting ready for dinner,” said Master Joseph. He indicated the contents of the pot.

“Eye-of-newt?” Call guessed. “Toe-of-frog stew?”

“My famous five-alarm chili, actually,” said Master Joseph. “Drew always loved it.” At the mention of Master Joseph’s dead son, Call froze. Master Joseph had said he didn’t blame Call for Drew’s death, even though he’d been at least partially responsible for it. Call was sure that part of Master Joseph hated him, and that hate might bubble up at any moment.

Master Joseph wanted Call to be Constantine Madden reborn. He wanted the Enemy of Death. Callum Hunt, even with the same soul, was going to be a constant source of disappointment.

“What do you want me to do with Call and his backup band?” Alex asked in a bored voice.

“Call’s and Tamara’s rooms are in the Red Wing,” said Master Joseph. “As for our unexpected guest …” He looked at Jasper. “Put him in Drew’s old room.” “Oh no,” said Jasper. “That seems creepy.”

Master Joseph gave Jasper a smile that was half snarl. “We, those who nobly battle death, have been accused of being macabre before. Of being too comfortable with death. We don’t like to give credence to that kind of talk. We simply refuse to acknowledge death as an end. That is all.” Jasper didn’t look reassured.

“Besides, the bedrooms are the only place the Chaos-ridden don’t go,” Alex added.

“On the other hand,” said Jasper, “that’ll be fine.”

He still glared at Call, though, as they went upstairs, and mouthed It’s all your fault at him before he was escorted off to something called the Green Wing by a silent Chaos-ridden.

Call and Tamara were taken down a corridor where the walls were red. Tamara was shown to a room across the hall while Alex personally brought Call into his chamber, leaning across him to flick on the light.

“Anastasia decorated it,” he said. “What do you think?”

At first the room seemed fine. It was normal, plain, with navy-and-white-striped sheets and pillows. There was a sofa and a desk. Only slowly did the horror of what he was looking at creep in. Family photos littered all the surfaces — Constantine Madden, laughing with his brother, Jericho. Waving over a railing with his parents. On a camping trip with the whole family.

Photos of Constantine by himself, getting awards at school, ceremonies where new stones were put into his wristband. Grinning in his Silver Year uniform. Candid photos of him with his friends were shoved into the frames of the mirrors, tacked above the bed.

Friends that were now mostly dead, murdered in the Third Mage war.

“All the books are Constantine’s favorite books,” said Alex in a gloating voice. “All the clothes in the wardrobe are the clothes he wore when he was your age. They’re hoping it’s going to trigger some flood of memories, but I don’t think it’s going to work.” “Go away,” said Call. Next to him, Havoc was whining uneasily. He could sense Call was upset but didn’t know why.

Alex leaned against the doorjamb. “But this is so funny.”

Call remembered when he’d admired Alex. He’d thought Alex was just Master Rufus’s assistant, a cool older apprentice who had been kind to Call. But all that kindness had been fake. Everything about Alex was fake, like the illusion magic he’d favored.

“I’m about to change for dinner,” said Call. “Get out or watch me strip — it’s your choice.” Alex rolled his eyes and disappeared, slamming the door behind him.

Call went over to examine the photos shoved into the mirror frame. Most of them were of Constantine with his friends. He recognized a much younger Alastair Hunt, his arm around Constantine, grinning and pointing off at something in the distance. And there was Call’s mom, Sarah, looking so young with loose hair and a pretty smile. She stood next to Constantine with something strapped to her hip.

Miri. The knife she’d made. She was wearing Miri. Call felt the back of his throat start to ache as he remembered she’d used that knife to carve words into the wall of the ice cave where she died.

KILL THE CHILD.

Call wandered over to the wardrobe and yanked open the doors.

The clothes inside probably would have been more disturbing to someone who hadn’t grown up with Alastair Hunt and therefore shopped in a lot of thrift stores and vintage emporiums. Lots of black jeans with rips in the knee and long cargo shorts. Beside them, thermal waffle shirts, white tees, and a lot of flannel. There was also a beat-up jean jacket. The ’90s had returned and were living here in Call’s closet.

Despite what Alex had said, Call hoped Master Joseph had actually bought this stuff secondhand. That would have been creepy enough, but as he inspected the jean jacket, which had patches and writing on it, he came to the much creepier conclusion — all this stuff really had once belonged to Constantine Madden.

Call really hoped the underwear was new. He did not want to wear the Underoos of an Evil Overlord.

The door opened and Jasper came in.

“I c-c-can’t,” he sputtered. “I can’t stay in there!”

“What now?” Call demanded, sick of Jasper’s complaints. After all, none of them had wanted to be kidnapped. None of them wanted to sleep here. “It can’t be creepier than this!” Jasper looked around the room, taking it in. Then he turned back to Call. “Come with me.” There was grimness in his voice that made Call trail after him, Havoc on his heels.

They went down the red hall and into a green one, past two doors to another, which Jasper pushed open.

It was a big room with a large window. The light streaming in caught on cobwebs around the room. Dust had settled on most surfaces. It looked like no one had been in there since Drew had died. It was creepy, Call had to admit — especially with all the horses.

Horses on shelves lining an entire wall, arranged in the plastic hundreds. Horses on posters. Horses on a beside table lamp. Horses running on the sheets.

“That’s a lot of …” Call managed, staring.

“You see?” Jasper said. “I can’t sleep in here!”

Even Havoc looked a bit daunted. He sniffed the air worriedly.

“I guess the whole pony obsession wasn’t just part of Drew’s cover,” Call said. He had to admit, this room might actually be worse than his.

“They watch me,” Jasper said, already haunted. “No matter where I go in the room, they’re watching me with their beady black eyes. It’s horrible.” Tamara came into the room. Behind her, in the red hallway, a door was slightly ajar. “What are you looking at … whoa!” She blinked at the horses.

“What’s your room like?” Jasper wanted to know.

“Not important,” Tamara said, too quickly. “Totally boring.”

Call narrowed his eyes at her, suspicious.

“Maybe I can sleep in there?” Jasper seemed delighted by the thought, as though what was wrong with their situation was the accommodations. He headed to the slightly ajar door in the red hall.

“You can’t!” she said, trailing after him. “And there’s no reason to look —” But by then he’d jerked the door the rest of the way open. For a moment, Call thought Jasper’s face had grown flushed, but it was just a reflection of the inside of the room. It was pink. Really, really, really pink.

Tamara let out a long sigh. “I know we have bigger problems, but my room is embarrassing!” The walls were painted a soft pink. The dark pink canopy bed was hung with gauzy, iridescent material. The bedding was neon pink and covered in ruffles. On top of it sat a massive stuffed unicorn with a silver cloth horn. On the floor rested a fuzzy pink rug in the shape of a heart.

“Wow,” Call said.

“You should see the clothes in the closet,” Tamara said. “No, actually, no one should ever see the clothes in the closet.” From down the stairs came a call. “Dinner!”

“Do you think this is some fiendish plot of Master Joseph’s to make sure we don’t get any sleep?” Call wanted to know as they trooped down the stairs. “Don’t cults try to brainwash you by keeping you tired?” Tamara wrinkled her nose like she was going to disagree, but didn’t. Instead, she seemed to be weighing the possibility.

As they headed into the room with the long table, set for six and heaped with enough food to feed double that number, Call had to consider that Master Joseph might have a different fiendish scheme. In addition to keeping you sleep deprived, cults weren’t supposed to feed you enough, but it seemed like Master Joseph was intent on feeding them way too much.

The cauldron of chili had been moved to the center of the table, where it bubbled deliciously, a mound of cheese atop it. More cheese was grated onto a plate, along with chopped green onions and a tub of sour cream. Golden squares of corn bread were stacked in the shape of a ziggurat beside a slab of butter with a knife sticking out of it and a jar of honey. On the nearby sideboard sat three pies — two pecan and one sweet potato. Call’s stomach growled loudly enough for Jasper to turn in surprise, as though a Chaos-ridden wolf might be behind him.

A Chaos-ridden person slapped down a pitcher of what looked like sweet tea, hard enough to spill some, then looked at Call with an empty expression, tipped its head toward him in a kind of bow, and left the room. Call wondered at the violence with which the Chaos-ridden moved. He’d always thought they fought because they’d been commanded to, but maybe they had a bent toward murderousness.

Then he was too busy drooling to wonder about anything else.

Master Joseph looked pleased by their reactions. “Sit, sit. The others will be with us in a moment.” After many months in prison eating disgusting prison food, Call needed no urging. He slid into a seat and tucked the cloth napkin into his shirt eagerly.

“Do you think it might be poisoned?” Tamara whispered, sitting down beside him. Jasper sat on her other side, leaning in to hear what she was saying.

“He’s going to eat it, too,” said Call, cutting his gaze toward Master Joseph.

“He could have taken the antidote,” Tamara insisted. “And given it to Alex and Anastasia.” “He wouldn’t kidnap you and Call and give you customized bedrooms just to poison you,” Jasper whispered back to them. “You’re both idiots. The only person he would poison is me.” The doors opened and Anastasia came in, followed by Alex. Call had almost forgotten they knew each other well — Anastasia had married Alex’s father in an attempt to conceal her identity as Eliza Madden. She looked regal in a white pantsuit, her hair drawn back in a smooth chignon. Alex had on jeans and a black shirt with a death’s-head moth on the front. It was actually kind of cool, and Call found himself wishing he had one. (On the other hand, it did seem like the kind of thing an Evil Overlord might wear.) Alex sat down and immediately started dishing himself up some chili. Once he was done, Jasper snatched the spoon from him and pretty soon everyone was digging into their food (except Anastasia, who took only some corn bread and nibbled on the edge).

At the first bite of chili, the flavors exploded in Call’s mouth — sweet, spicy, smoky. It wasn’t prison food, and it wasn’t lichen. “The food of evil is so good,” he muttered to Tamara, on his left.

“That’s how they get you,” she muttered back, but she was already on her second helping of corn bread.

“This is delightful,” said Master Joseph, gazing around with a deceptively benign air. “I remember such meals with Constantine and his friends. Jasper, you make an excellent Alastair Hunt, and you, Tamara, of course would be Sarah.” Tamara looked horrified at the idea of being Call’s mom. Call was just horrified by the whole conversation.

“Uh-huh,” said Alex, looking like he was enjoying himself. “So who am I, then?” “Not Jericho,” said Anastasia flatly.

“You’re Declan,” said Master Joseph. “He was a nice boy.”

Declan Novak had been Call’s uncle. He’d died in the Cold Massacre, protecting Call’s mother. Though he’d never met Declan, Call was sure he was nothing like Alex.

“I ought to be Constantine,” Alex muttered. His gaze went to the other room, where the silver mask and the Alkahest hung over the fireplace.

“Wow,” said Jasper loudly, breaking the uncomfortable silence that followed this pronouncement. “Who’s ready for pie? I know I am.” He stood up with his plate, but Master Joseph gestured for him to stay where he was.

“Let Call choose the first piece of pie,” said Master Joseph. “In this house, all things serve the Enemy of Death.” Alex banged his fork down. “So we’re supposed to do whatever Call says just because he’s got some dead guy’s soul?” “Yes,” said Master Joseph, looking narrowly at Alex.

Jasper swallowed and sat down, pieless.

“Call doesn’t even want it!” Alex burst out. “He doesn’t care about making more Chaos-ridden! He doesn’t want to lead an army against the Magisterium!” “There is no Call,” said Master Joseph. “There is only Constantine Madden. It’s our job to make Callum Hunt understand who he is.” “That’s not true,” said Tamara, voice shaking. “Call is Call. Whatever made Constantine so messed up, it didn’t happen to Call.” “What made Constantine so messed up, young lady,” said Master Joseph, “was losing his best friend, his brother. His counterweight. Are you saying that hasn’t happened to Call?” At the mention of Aaron, Call saw red. He grabbed the dull knife from beside his plate and pointed it toward Alex. “I didn’t lose my best friend. Alex murdered him. He stole his Makar power. But he’ll never be half of what Aaron was.” Alex’s eyes burned with fury. “I am twice any of you! I taught myself to modify the Alkahest and took the power of commanding chaos from another mage. I am the first Makar ever to have done that. I learned to create Chaos-ridden in mere months while you’ve never done it!” Call thought of how his attempt at bringing back Jennifer Matsui had gone and said nothing.

“You’re disgusting,” Tamara said. “Being proud of that is disgusting.” “Both of you!” Master Joseph reprimanded. “All of you! I know it will be difficult to find common ground, but this isn’t helping. You’ve accomplished many things, Alex, but all of them were built on the foundation of Constantine’s discoveries. Let’s give Call an opportunity to find who he is — if he doesn’t, I will strip the power from him myself.” Call caught his breath, thinking of the Alkahest and what it could do. Master Joseph had spent years wishing for the power of chaos. Now he could have it, if he was willing to take it.

Jasper stood up and cut himself a large slice of pecan pie. Everyone stopped yelling and watched him as he put it on his own plate, sat down, and forked a big delicious-looking bite into his mouth.

“What?” he asked when he noticed them looking. “This is helping. Now they don’t have to fight over who gets the first slice.” Alex looked like he might jump over the table and strangle Jasper. Call often felt the same way. But right then, Jasper’s obnoxiousness seemed downright heroic.

Master Joseph sliced more pie, and Call ate an enormous piece of sweet potato and pecan, punctuating each bite with a vicious glare, trying to show dominance through superior pie eating. Alex’s pie game was pathetic; he picked the nuts off the top of his pie and out of the middle, leaving the crust and the topping still on his plate. Call sneered at him.

Finally, Master Joseph stood up. “This has been a long day and it seems like it’s time for rest. Call, there is ground hamburger meat for Havoc in the refrigerator. Help yourself to anything you need. I hope that you’ve realized the foolishness of trying to leave us. There are Chaos-ridden at every door to prevent your departure.” Call didn’t say anything, since there was nothing to say. He was a prisoner again … and this time Jasper and Tamara were prisoners, too.

Anastasia left with a brief, uncomfortable squeeze of Call’s shoulder and a kiss to the top of his head. He stayed still for it, trying not to wince. He’d never had a mother, but this wasn’t what he thought it was supposed to be like.

Once they were alone at the top of the stairs, Tamara turned to Jasper and Call with a determined look and vowed in a harsh whisper, “We’re getting out of here.”