“Betrayed,” said Jasper. “Once again, by a woman.”
The truck started up. Call felt his muscles relax as soon as they were rolling. He might be sitting in pitch-black with Jasper, but he was getting away from Master Joseph and Alex.
“You know,” he said, “that kind of attitude is not going to help you get Celia back.”
A light sparked. It was a slight ember of fire magic, burning in Jasper’s hand. It illuminated the inside of the truck and Jasper’s thoughtful scowl.
“You know,” he said, “it doesn’t smell like flowers in here.”
Now that he mentioned it, Call realized he was right. And there were no stray petals or stems on the floor near their feet. There was an odor in the van, but it was a chemical one — more like formaldehyde.
“I didn’t like the look of that guy,” said Jasper. “Or his tattoo.”
Call suddenly remembered where he’d seen that eye symbol before. Over the gates of the Panopticon. The prison that never slept. His heart thumped. Could the guy be a guard meant to take him back to prison?
In the front of the van, Call heard Tamara say, “No, not that way. No!”
Hugo said something in return. They hit a dirt road and started bumping around, so Call couldn’t quite make out the words.
Then they lurched to a stop. After a moment, the back of the van opened.
Master Joseph stood at the foot, a stern expression on his face. Hugo had brought them back to the Enemy of Death’s stronghold.
“Come along, Callum,” he said. His voice was even and calm, but Call could see that his hands were in fists at his sides. He was furious, even if he didn’t want Hugo to see it. “We must talk. I’d hoped to do this tomorrow and under better circumstances, but I can’t have you wandering around the island.”
Tamara climbed out of the passenger side, looking stricken. Call and Jasper clambered out of the back of the truck, followed by Havoc, who put his nose against the palm of Call’s hand, clearly confused about everything that was happening.
Unfortunately, Call understood all too well. Master Joseph’s prison wasn’t the house — it was the whole island.
“It was an honor to kidnap you, sir,” Hugo said to Callum with a wide grin. “You probably don’t remember me, but I saw you in the Panopticon.” He tapped the tattoo on his arm. “I was there, too, locked up, you know, ever since the war. Lots of us were. But once you came, we knew it was going to be all right. We never stopped believing in you, not even when they said you were dead. If anyone can rise, it’s the Enemy of Death.”
Jasper and Call looked at Tamara, who had her hands over her mouth. The strike on the Panopticon hadn’t just been about freeing Call after all. Master Joseph had used Anastasia to help him get Constantine’s old followers out, too.
“I don’t want to be on this island,” Call said. “Don’t you think that if you’re serving me, you should do what I want?”
“Thank you for bringing them back so swiftly,” Master Joseph said, before Call’s words could have any effect on Hugo.
Hugo grinned again, nodded to Call, and climbed back in his van. “Good luck getting your memories back,” he said. “You’ll remember soon enough why you want to be here.”
With a heavy heart, Call watched the van pull away, taking their escape plan with it.
He was dejected enough to follow Master Joseph back into the house, with Tamara, Havoc, and Jasper behind him. Master Joseph took a key out of his pocket and unlocked a parlor they’d never been in before. It appeared to be unheated, easily as cold as it had been outside. There were double doors on the far side of the room and two couches in the center.
Master Joseph beckoned for them to sit, but remained standing.
“I could strip you of your magic and your life,” Master Joseph said. “I could take your power for myself. Would you prefer that?”
“If that’s what you were planning on doing, then what are you waiting for?” Call demanded.
Tamara and Jasper both half rose from the couch as if they thought a fight was coming. Havoc growled.
Master Joseph only laughed, though. “I have a proposal for you … how about that? Callum, once you complete the task I set for you, you can leave the island with your friends if that’s what you still want.”
“A task?” Call asked. “Is this some kind of trick thing where I have to tame an impossible elemental or separate dirt from sand on an entire beach?”
Master Joseph smiled. “Nothing like that.” He flung open the doors at the far end of the room. After a moment, Call and the others joined him at the entryway.
Inside was a large, white-painted room. There was nothing in it but a metal table. On top of the table lay a body that was perfectly preserved, covered to the neck by a thin white sheet.
“The task,” he said, “is to raise Aaron Stewart from the dead.”
CALL HEARD TAMARA’S awful gasp. She staggered back, and Jasper caught her arm. Call couldn’t have done it. He was completely frozen.
It was definitely Aaron on the table. He lay on his back. His blond hair had been brushed. His green eyes were open and blank.
Havoc put his head back and gave a single, awful howl of loneliness, abandonment, and horror. It was like he was making the sound Call couldn’t make. It rang and rang in Call’s ears as he stood there, his body beginning to shake.
“God, stop that noise —” It was Alex Strike, appearing in his black silk pajamas behind them. He looked rumpled and sleepy and annoyed, but the look turned quickly into a smirk. “Oh. I see you decided to show them what’s really going on here.”
Tamara, Call, and Jasper watched with horror as he walked up to the table and yanked down the sheet. Aaron was wearing what they must have planned to bury him in — his Bronze Year uniform. Alex picked up one of his wrists. His wristband gleamed on it. Stones for heroism peppered the band, along with stones for his Iron, Copper, and Bronze Years. And the black stone of chaos, because he had been a Makar.
Much good it had done him, Call thought bitterly. Alex had stolen his magic and now he was only a shell — a shell that had once held life and animation and chaos and Aaron. “Don’t touch him,” Call growled.
Alex let go of Aaron’s hand and it thumped lifelessly against the table. “Dead,” he said, cheerfully. “Muerto.”
“I think we’ve got the message,” said Jasper. “Thanks.”
“What’s going on?” said Tamara in a choked voice. “Why is Aaron here? The Magisterium is going to notice his body is missing!”
Master Joseph had been standing at the door, watching them with an eerie stillness. He came toward the center of the room now, his eyes flicking over Aaron’s body as if it were something in a petri dish. “Oh, they already know. He was taken some time ago. They haven’t said anything because it would hardly behoove them for the mage world to know they’ve messed this up, too. Losing the body of a dead Makar, after not noticing they had the Enemy of Death among them for three years? The Assembly would explode.”
“To be fair to Call,” said Jasper, “it really wouldn’t have been very easy to guess he was the EOD. He’s very wily.”