But why would Alex do any of that? Call glanced at his impassive face as they moved through the silvery dark. They were almost at the village of the Order. Call could see the big clearing up ahead, the shadows of cottages.

  He remembered Jennifer’s mouth moving and her last words: Kimiya, Kimiya, stay away from him. But who had Kimiya been near at the party? Who would she need to be warned away from?

  Just her friends. And her boyfriend.

  Alex. It didn’t make any sense. And yet. Something was still bothering him, had been bothering him since they’d first seen Alex in front of their door. Out of breath, looking panicked, with blood on his blue shirt.

  Blue shirt. Cogs whirled in Call’s mind. The image of a ripped photograph, Drew standing with Master Joseph and someone else, someone who was wearing a blue shirt with distinctive black stripes down the shoulder seams.

  “I’m cold,” Call said, suddenly. “Alex, can I borrow your hoodie?”

  Alex looked puzzled. Aaron looked puzzled. Call wasn’t usually one for borrowing other people’s clothes. But Alex shrugged the hoodie off anyway, and handed it to Call.

  Call stopped dead in his tracks. Alex’s blue shirt was striped with two black lines down the shoulders.

  The other two boys stopped and looked back at him. Aaron’s expression was worried.

  Alex’s wasn’t.

  “Alex,” Call said, in as calm a voice as he could manage, “how did you know Drew?”

  Alex slowly raised his head. “What do you care?” he said. “You killed him.”

  Aaron stopped dead in his tracks. The wind howled through the branches of the trees all around them. “Why would you say that?” He looked from Call to Alex. “What’s going on?”

  “Alex is the one,” Call said. He felt numb inside. “He’s the spy.”

  Alex took a step toward Call. Aaron flung a hand out, as if to stop Alex from coming any closer.

  “Get away from Call,” he warned. “I’m a Makar, Alex. I could really hurt you.”

  But the older boy ignored him. “Drew was like my brother,” Alex said. “Master Joseph recruited me in my Copper Year. He needed a talented air mage. And there was no one more talented than I was. Until you two.”

  Call sucked in his breath.

  “My father was old,” Alex said. “Barely even noticed when I got into the Magisterium. Joseph became my father. He taught me and Drew together. Gave us extra lessons. That’s why I was good enough to become Rufus’s assistant. And boy, did Joseph laugh when I told him that.” A grin split Alex’s handsome face. “Anastasia was harder to trick. But she fell for it, too, the good-stepson act. She was too busy faking that she cared about my father to pay attention to me.” His eyes burned. “Meanwhile, Joseph told me everything. He told me the truth about the Enemy of Death. He told me about you.”

  “So you’ve known who I was this whole time?” asked Call.

  Alex barely seemed to hear him. “Do you know how ungrateful you are?” he said. “Joseph cares about you more than he cares about anything else. Both of you have power, but you, Call, you’re special. Do you know what it means to be special? Do you have any idea what you’re throwing away?”

  “If it means being like you,” Call said, “then I don’t want it.”

  Alex’s face twisted. Aaron’s hand flashed protectively, fire already growing in his palm, but at that moment shadows exploded out of the woods on either side of them. Adults in black clothing, with black masks hiding their faces. Strong hands and arms seized Call and Aaron.

  “March them to the village,” Alex said.

  Call was shoved forward, stumbling. He and Aaron were pushed roughly down the path. He had no idea who was holding him — not a Chaos-ridden; Alex couldn’t control one.

  Or could he? The greatest Makar of your generation.

  No, if Alex was a chaos user, he would have bragged about it, Call was sure. It turned out that one didn’t have to have anything to do with chaos to have Evil Overlord aspirations.

  CALL TRIED TO twist out of the grip of the people who held him, but he couldn’t. They were too strong. He tried to bring fire to his hands, but as soon as it sparked, someone cuffed him on the back of the head and his concentration fled, extinguishing the flame.

  A moment later, he was thrown down in the grass in the center of the abandoned Order of Disorder village, the empty buildings eerie in the moonlight. There were packs and food and a small fire going.

  Alex wasn’t working alone. The masked figures, whoever they were, must have been waiting here to be summoned by him.

  Call rolled to his side, looking for Aaron. Aaron was down in the grass, too. A bulky masked figure had a boot on his back. Call tried to stand but was shoved firmly back down to the ground.

  “Let them sit up.” It was Alex’s voice. Call struggled to his knees to see Alex walking toward them. A massive copper glove was on his right arm, covering his hand, reaching to the elbow.

  The Alkahest. The Makar killer.

  Call had used it himself to destroy Constantine Madden’s body. He couldn’t imagine what its power could do to a living person. It would take the chaos inside his soul, or Aaron’s, and use it to rip them to pieces from the inside.

  “Scared, Makar?” Alex moved the metal fingers of the Alkahest and then laughed at Call’s expression. Call exchanged a quick look with Aaron, who was kneeling beside him. There were twigs in Aaron’s blond hair, but he didn’t look hurt. Thankfully.

  Not yet, anyway.

  Keep Alex talking, Call thought. Keep him talking and don’t panic and don’t let him hurt Aaron.

  “Tamara?” he asked. “Did you hurt her? Is she here?”

  That made Alex laugh harder. “You really are an idiot, you know that? I have no idea where Tamara is. I didn’t bother kidnapping her. Why go to all that effort when I could just tell you two that I did and you’d believe me? She and your stupid wolf are probably asleep. I guess they’ll be pretty sad when they wake up and find out what happened to you two.”

  “Does Master Joseph know you took the Alkahest?” Aaron asked. “Did he tell you to do this?”

  Alex threw his head back, but this time his laugh sounded forced. “He doesn’t know anything about my plan — I took the Alkahest and left an illusion in its place. It won’t last forever, but it will last long enough,” he snarled. “Ever since he started teaching me, I’ve heard him talk about you. About how the glorious Constantine was returning and how we had to prepare ourselves. The amazing Constantine Madden, who was so important that Drew had to fake his way into the Magisterium, pretending not to even know me. And then it’s you. What a total disappointment.”

  “Sorry to hear it,” Call said acidly.

  “So how come you wanted to kill him? Revenge?” Aaron asked. Call was glad that he was on the keep him talking train, because Call was so freaked out that it wasn’t easy. “Wouldn’t that make Master Joseph angry?”

  “He just needs a Makar,” Alex said, lifting the Alkahest. “And now I’ve figured out how to become one. I reconfigured the Alkahest. It won’t just rip your chaos magic from you. It will channel that ability into me.”

  “That’s not possible!” Call said, but he recalled how the power had come to him when Constantine Madden’s body had been devoured by the Alkahest. Maybe it could be done.

  “Says the boy who’s been dead for fourteen years,” dismissed Alex. “Do you ever think about him? Poor little Callum Hunt, dead before he even got to say his first word. Murdered by you, Constantine, just the way you killed the closest thing I had to a brother. Just the way you killed your own brother. You were never meant to have this power. And now I am going to take it from you and be a better Enemy of Death than you’ll ever be.”

  “Fine,” said Call. “Just don’t hurt Aaron.”

  Aaron made a strangled noise. Alex rolled his eyes. “That’s right, Aaron, your precious counterweight. Is that what you threw it all away for, Call? Your friends?”

  “Threw what away?” Call demanded, panicking. He had to believe that someone was going to come from the Magisterium. Someone was going to find them. Alex was crazy; he was out of his mind. “Being Constantine? I never wanted that.”

  “You shouldn’t hurt Call,” said Aaron. “You should take the magic from me.”

  “All this nobility is really nauseating,” said Alex. His gold wristband gleamed as he flicked back a strand of brown hair. He looked spectral in the moonlight. Like an evil spirit. “But if it makes you feel any better, that was my plan. Kill Call, make it look like an accident, and then take your Makar ability, Aaron, killing you in the process. But now that you’re both here, in front of me, it’s hard to choose.”

  “Master Joseph will kill you if you hurt Call,” Aaron argued. “He jumped in front of Call to protect him in the Enemy’s tomb, did you know that? He would have sacrificed his life for him!”

  “He always believed Call would come around and want to join him,” Alex said. “Want to fight back death, but the truth is, Call, you’re too much of a coward. Someone who doesn’t want this power shouldn’t have it. Really, I’m doing Master Joseph a favor.”

  He moved toward Call. Aaron started to struggle up but was shoved back down. Black fire started to grow in his hands. “Stay away from Call!”

  Alex whirled toward him with the Alkahest. “Don’t you get it?” he said witheringly. “If you make a move toward me, I’ll kill you, and then I’ll kill Call anyway. And I’ll make it slow.”

  Aaron clasped his hands into fists. Call felt his whole body tightening as he prepared to jump up, to try to run —

  “Stop!” A voice rang out through the clearing. It was Tamara, Havoc at her heels. Havoc’s ears were back flat against his head and he was growling. Tamara had her hand out, and red fire was burning in her palm. “You can’t hurt me with that thing, Alex,” she said. “I’m not a Makar.”

  “Tamara!” Call shouted. “How did you find us?”

  “Havoc,” she called back. “We were in the room and he suddenly started growling and throwing himself at the door, even though I’d already taken him out. I opened the door and he led me right here.” She glared at Alex. “And he’ll rip out the throat of anyone who comes near me, so don’t even think about it.” Tamara advanced toward them, and the minions actually took a step back. Fire blazed higher. Call wondered who they were — devotees of Master Joseph, regular non-magic people who’d been enchanted? He had to admit that between Alex’s crazy master plan, his minions, and his boasting, he was really racking up the Evil Overlord Points.

  Call tried to get up, but he was held tightly in place. He could see Aaron struggling beside him.

  “Oh, good,” Alex said. “An audience.”

  Tamara looked furious. Call hoped to see the mages of the Magisterium behind her, but no one was there. This was his fault, he knew. For three years, Tamara and Aaron had been keeping his secrets, hiding important things from everyone, including Master Rufus. Now they didn’t look for help from anyone else, even when they could really use it.

  Alex leveled the Alkahest toward them and reached out with it. “Maybe the Alkahest should choose. Maybe I’ll send it at both of you and see what happens. Maybe it will take both your magic. What do you think of that?”

  Call reached out and grabbed Aaron’s hand. Aaron looked surprised for a second. Then his grip locked with Call’s.

  Call wanted to tell his best friend how sorry he was, how this was all his fault because he was Constantine Madden. But Aaron spoke before he got a chance.

  “At least we’re going to die together,” Aaron said. Then, unbelievably, he smiled at Call.

  We’re not, Call wanted to say. We’re going to live. But as he began to speak, a flash of light blinded him. Tamara had thrown a bolt of fire. Alex ducked away from it, flinging out his own hand, sending air magic to reroute the fire. It shot back toward Call.

  The man who was holding Call stumbled back, his grip on Call faltering. The masked man’s shirt was on fire and he was screaming. Call shot to his feet, ignoring the pain in his leg. Still holding Aaron’s hand, he hauled him upright, too. Everything seemed to be happening at once.

  “Havoc, go!” Tamara screamed.

  Havoc was a dark blur in the air, racing toward Alex. Aaron drew his hand away from Call’s, dark chaos blooming in his palm. Alex raised his arm, the Alkahest shimmering with energy. Aaron flung his hand forward, but the dark light that sprang from his hand flew wide, knocking one of the hooded figures aside but missing Alex. The clawed hand of the Alkahest opened, and a blaze of coppery light flew from its fingers.

  Time hung suspended. That light was everything that chaos wasn’t. It was bright and burning and cold like the edge of a knife, and Call knew without the shadow of a doubt that when it struck him, it would kill him.

  He closed his eyes.

  Something pushed him from behind. He went sprawling, rolling over in the grass. The bolt of light missed him by inches — he felt something sear his cheek as he tumbled forward and over — and then, fetching up on his side, he raised his head and saw it strike Aaron in the chest.

  The force of it lifted Aaron off his feet and sent him flying. He crashed down in the grass several feet away, his eyes wide-open and glassy, staring at the sky.

  “No,” someone said. “Aaron, no, no, no!” Call thought it was his own voice for a second, but it was Tamara’s. She was sprawled in the grass next to him.

  She’d been what hit him. She’d knocked him out of the way of the Alkahest. She’d saved his life.

  But not Aaron’s.

  Call touched his cheek. It burned. Maybe the Alkahest had only burned Aaron, too. He tried to get to his feet, to go over to Aaron, but his legs wouldn’t hold him. Instead, he reached out toward Aaron with all his senses.

  He remembered what he had felt before when he’d touched Aaron’s soul. The sense of life, of something existing in the world, bright and solid.

  But there was nothing there now. Aaron was a shell. His soul was gone, leaving only the shining shadows of Aaron-ness remaining.

  Call whirled on Alex, who had torn the Alkahest from his arm. Of course — now it could hurt him, too. Now he had Aaron’s power. He almost seemed to be pulsing, like a star about to go supernova. His skin was shimmering and rippling with bands of light and dark.

  “Power,” Alex gasped. He raised his hand, blackness coiling around it like smoke. “I can feel it. The power of chaos, running through me —”

  “Not if I can help it,” Call said, flinging out his hand. A bolt of black light shot from his palm toward Alex. He was sure it would kill him, send him screaming into the void.

  He was glad.

  The spear of magic flew toward Alex. His hand went up, and he caught it. He stared at it wonderingly for a second and Call stared, too, a sick feeling in his stomach. Alex was a Makar now. He could control and manipulate chaos. And he was a better, older, and more experienced magician than Call.

  Then he screamed. Out of nowhere, Havoc had slipped out of the dark and sunk his teeth into Alex’s leg.

  Alex flung chaos, but Havoc was too quick for him, darting away, still growling. He lunged again, and this time Alex didn’t have a chance to react: Havoc knocked him to the ground, his teeth ripping at Alex’s shirt.

  “Get it off me!” Alex screamed. “Get it off me!”

  Several of the hooded figures raced up; Havoc released Alex, who staggered to his feet, bleeding from several places. His skin was still rippling, his face twisting. Call remembered how it had been for him in the tomb, when his chaos magic had manifested. How out of control he’d felt, how sick.

  Alex flung a hand toward Havoc, but this time the magic that exploded from his hand went haywire. Darkness spilled out in all directions. It poured out in tendrils that rose up into the air and clouds that reached toward the sky. Where it touched, things began to come apart. One of the Order of Disorder houses collapsed as chaos ate away its foundations. Three nearby trees were devoured whole. The ground itself became pocked as pieces of it were lifted away into the void. Two of the masked figures screamed as they were swallowed up before the chaos dissipated.

  Alex looked down at his hands, horrified and yet clearly amazed, too. “Get the Alkahest!” he said hoarsely to one of his remaining minions. “We need to get out of here!” He looked at Call for a moment, then curled his lip.

  “I’ll deal with you later,” Alex hissed, and rushed from the clearing, his surviving followers beside him.

  Call barely even cared. He turned back around to see Tamara crouched over Aaron’s still body. She was sobbing, her whole body shaking, nearly bent in half. Havoc crept over to her, nuzzling at her shoulder with his black nose, but she kept crying, her face wet with tears.

  Call didn’t even feel his feet move, but he was there, dropping down next to Aaron, across from Tamara. He touched Aaron’s hand, the hand he’d gripped only moments ago. It was cold.

  Tamara was still crying softly. She had knocked Call out of the way of the Alkahest. She had saved his life.

  “Why did you do it?” he asked suddenly. “How could you do that? Aaron was the one who was supposed to live. Not me. I’m the Enemy of Death, Tamara. I’m not the good one. Aaron was.”

  She looked at him for a long moment. “I know,” she said, tears in her eyes. “But, Call —”

  A cry came from above what was left of the village. “There!” someone shouted. Among the trees, Call could see floating spheres. The mages had gone looking for them after all, just like they’d looked for Drew that night. And they’d been too late again. Always too late.

  Master North, Master Rufus, Alma, and several other Masters ran into the clearing. North and the others were gaping around at the devastation, at the chunks of earth that were simply gone, the collapsed houses and destroyed trees. But Rufus — Rufus was looking at Aaron. Pushing aside the others, he rushed to Aaron’s body, falling to one knee to feel for a pulse.

  Call knew he wouldn’t find one. There was no Aaron anymore. No counterweight to his own soul. Just this feeling of emptiness, the feeling that something had been ripped away from him that could never be replaced.