“Anastasia helped me,” Tamara said, mostly to Call. “She let me go down to talk to Ravan.” She looked at her feet. “I didn’t have too many other people to talk to, after Aaron died and you were … gone.”

  “You could have talked to me,” said Jasper, still in the van.

  “You just wanted to talk about Celia,” said Tamara. “And nobody would talk to me about Call because —”

  “Because they think I’m the Enemy of Death,” Call said. “And that I wanted Aaron dead.”

  “They don’t all think that,” said Tamara in a small voice. “But most of them, yeah.”

  “Call, Tamara,” Anastasia directed from the porch, “come inside.” She narrowed her eyes. “You, too, Jasper.”

  Grumbling, Jasper finally hopped out of the prison van.

  “When did you learn to drive?” Call asked Tamara.

  “Kimiya taught me,” Tamara answered as they went up the front steps. “I told her I needed to be distracted from — you know. Thinking about you and Aaron.”

  You and Aaron. Aaron had died and Call had lived but it must have seemed like a sort of living death to Tamara, Call trapped in the Panopticon and everyone else believing he was evil.

  He realized how terrified he’d been that Tamara would believe the same thing about him. He felt almost weak with relief that apparently she didn’t.

  Inside, the house had a pretty living room, with lace curtains and small tables covered in doilies. There was a pitcher of lemonade on a coffee table. It was welcoming, but the way a candy-covered witch’s house was welcoming. Still, he wasn’t going to complain. He wasn’t in jail and Tamara was here. They’d even brought Havoc.

  “Let me see those cuffs,” Tamara said as Call sat down on the first couch he’d encountered in months. Who would have thought you could miss couches? Tamara frowned. “What are these made out of? It isn’t metal.”

  “You can’t remove them without special tools,” Anastasia informed her. “Unfortunately, I don’t have those here.” She stood up. “Call, come with me. I’ll see if I can improvise something.”

  Not knowing how long he had with Tamara, he was reluctant to give up any time with her, but the cuffs did need to come off. Reluctantly, he stood and followed Anastasia into the kitchen.

  She pointed to a stool. There was a big, heavy black bag on the counter, like an old-fashioned doctor’s tool kit. Reaching inside, she brought out a few crystals, which she set on a tray. Then she turned on the burner beneath them.

  As they heated, she turned toward Call. “It was unfortunate we couldn’t get to you sooner,” she said. “I know it was hard on you, waiting.”

  Call shifted in his seat. Anastasia acted like she knew what Call was thinking or feeling a lot. Sometimes she was right, sometimes she wasn’t, but her conviction never wavered.

  She had another conviction, too, one she’d mentioned to him the only time she’d ever visited him in the Panopticon. She believed that since she was Constantine Madden’s mother, she was Call’s mother, too.

  Call didn’t think it worked that way. But he knew better than to argue with Anastasia. She seemed absolutely sure of herself. He’d decided to just never mention it again and hope it wouldn’t come up.

  “Tamara, of course, was devastated not to be able to visit you,” she added.

  Call wanted to believe that was true. “She’s a good friend.”

  “Friend?” Anastasia laughed a tinkling laugh. “She has such a crush on you. I think it’s sweet.”

  Call stared at Anastasia, his mind reeling. Tamara didn’t have a crush on him! That was ridiculous. Tamara was beautiful and smart and rich and had perfect eyebrows.

  As long as he’d known Tamara, he’d known he was out of her league. He remembered watching her dancing with Aaron at the beginning of his Copper Year. They’d looked good together. He’d known he would never look good with Tamara. If they danced together — even if he could keep up with the way his leg was — he was sure he’d step on her feet.

  The crystals started making an odd keening noise and Anastasia turned off the stove. “Earth and fire together,” she explained. “Easier to draw on this way. “

  Then with one hand she reached out and melted the chain connecting the cuffs. Call had to shift abruptly to avoid getting splashed with liquid metal. It hit the linoleum and smoked ominously, the plastic blackening around the spatters.

  Anastasia frowned at the floor. “This is all I can do for now, but it should give you greater movement until we remove the cuffs themselves.”

  Call was barely paying attention. He was staring at the melting floor and wondering: Could it be true? Could Tamara really like him? Anastasia was kind of weird and maybe a little crazy. She probably didn’t know what she was talking about.

  But what if she did?

  “Go on back to the living room,” Anastasia told him. “I’ll be along in a moment, after I clean things up.”

  Mechanically, Call returned to where Tamara and Jasper were discussing the house.

  “Anastasia found us this safe house where we can hide out from the mages,” Tamara was saying. “She put disruptive air magic around it to keep it from being found. We can hide out and make our next plans.”

  Call stared at her as though she wasn’t one of his best friends. As though he hadn’t shared a common room with her for the past three years. No, Tamara couldn’t like him. If anything, she’d liked Aaron. “How long before you have to go back to the Magisterium?” he blurted out. “I mean, they’re going to notice you’re gone.”

  Great, he thought. It sounds like I want to get rid of her. He had the horrifying thought that he might be as tongue-tied around Tamara as he’d been around Celia after he found out she wanted to go on a date with him. What if he ruined their friendship? What if he made a fool of himself?

  Tamara didn’t meet his eyes. “I can’t go back, Call.”

  “What about me?” Jasper yelled. “What about me going back to school? I have to go! Celia is there!”

  Call couldn’t quite process the sacrifice Tamara was planning to make.

  “Ever?” Call asked her. “You can’t go back to school ever?”

  Maybe he did have devastating charm after all. Maybe she really did like him. Or maybe she was a really great friend.

  Maybe he was never going to know.

  Tamara gave Call a long look. “I’m not going to sit around learning magic while apprentices are talking about the mages catching you and chopping off your head. I’m not going back unless you’re coming with me. And to do that, we’re going to have to clear your name.”

  Call swallowed hard. He knew the other students would say terrible things about him, but he hadn’t thought about the whole head-chopping part. Worse, he didn’t think there was a way to clear his name — not as long as everyone thought it was secretly Constantine Madden.

  “Are you listening to yourselves?” Jasper demanded. “How do you plan on doing that?”

  “I don’t know yet,” Tamara admitted. “But Ravan helped before and she’ll help with this.”

  “Ravan?” Jasper said. “That was Ravan back at the Panopticon? Tamara, you can’t trust one of the Devoured, even if she was once your sister!”

  Call’s mind was whirling, still thinking of what Tamara had done by breaking him out of prison. And with Anastasia Tarquin, of all people. How had Tamara and Anastasia wound up working together? What did Anastasia want?

  As Jasper and Tamara kept on bickering, Call found himself staring at Tamara, memorizing her — her eyes, her tone of voice when she was annoyed, the slant of her mouth as she smiled. He was afraid he was going to lose her again. He was used to them being in trouble and having an unlikely scheme for getting out of it. He was used to them dragging an unwilling Jasper into that scheme. But before, Aaron had always been with them.

  He’d always kind of assumed that everyone went along with Aaron, and since Aaron liked Call, they put up with Call, too.

  Without Aaron, everything felt strange and wrong. Unbalanced. Uncertain.

  Without Aaron, would Tamara still like him? Could they still be friends when there were just two of them, not three?

  The thought of Aaron closed, like a cold fist around Call’s heart. Aaron ought to be here, bickering about what they were all going to do. Instead, he was gone. Call and Tamara had been left behind together. The thought made Call’s heart pound, with nerves and more.

  Anastasia Tarquin came back into the room. Trailing behind her was a familiar figure in heavy robes. Tamara gasped and half rose from the couch.

  It was Master Joseph.

  Call started up from the couch, ready to attack, but no Chaos curled from his fingers. Even without the chain, the cuffs somehow prevented him from using any magic.

  Tamara gasped. Jasper backed up a few steps and then froze, staring. Of course, the last time he’d seen Constantine’s teacher, the tomb of the Enemy of Death had been collapsing around them.

  “What,” said Jasper in a strangled voice, “is he doing here?”

  “Anastasia?” Tamara demanded, her voice rising. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m afraid I wasn’t entirely honest with you,” Anastasia said. “Neither about myself nor about my reasons for freeing Call. You see, before I was called Anastasia Tarquin, I had another name: Eliza Madden. I was Constantine and Jericho Madden’s mother.”

  Call’s heart sank.

  Tamara’s eyes were huge. “What?”

  “Yes,” Anastasia said. “I am sure you never thought of the Enemy of Death as having a mother, but he does. I lost both my sons, but I won’t lose Call. I am not going to let the mages lock him up to rot. And I am certainly not going to let them put him to death after some show trial.”

  “Put me to … death?” Call echoed. Was that her fear talking or did she know something? Was that true?

  “We were going to clear his name! Instead, you’re going to put him back in the hands of the monster responsible for you losing your sons in the first place?” Tamara demanded, gesturing at Master Joseph.

  “That’s a lie,” Master Joseph said. Then he flicked his hand and sent Tamara flying back against the couch. Her body bounced against the cushions.

  “You leave her alone!” Call shouted, everything else forgotten. Havoc began to growl, and fire sparked at the center of Jasper’s palm.

  Master Joseph took in the sight of them pityingly. “I had hoped you might come willingly, but I am entirely capable of bringing you by force.”

  Anastasia’s face was like marble. “You will not hurt Callum,” she said. “Joseph!”

  She couldn’t really trust Master Joseph, could she? Call tried to stand but was knocked down by another wave from Master Joseph’s hand. Master Joseph moved his wrist, twisting it, and a vortex of wind rose from his fingers and spun toward them.

  Call and Tamara were flattened against the sofa, Jasper pinned to the wall. Even Havoc was knocked to the ground, whimpering and growling over the rush of the wind.

  The door flew open behind Master Joseph. Through it marched the Chaos-ridden — the mindless, zombielike followers of the Enemy of Death. Making them had been one of Constantine’s greatest crimes — and also, according to people like Master Joseph, his greatest achievement.

  Implacably, the Chaos-ridden surrounded Call, Tamara, and Jasper, seizing them by the arms and marching them outside. Once they got that far, they stopped, forming a loose circle. They seemed totally bizarre and out of place in the pretty clearing with the neat little house at the center.

  Anastasia and Master Joseph had come out onto the porch. Anastasia was watching Call with the same vast hunger as before. Another car gleamed in the driveway. Havoc, barking and snarling, ran around the circle, unable to approach.

  Why had the Chaos-ridden stopped? Call knew they didn’t make their own decisions; they were the shells of human beings who had had chaos forced into their souls, and were totally obedient to their Master.

  Their Master. Constantine Madden had made the Chaos-ridden. He was the Makar, their Master. It was the one sort of good thing about having Constantine’s soul.

  Call cleared his throat. This was going to be embarrassing.

  “Release me,” he said. “I am your Master. I am the Enemy of Death. His soul is like mine. Release me, Chaos-ridden.”

  The last two times he’d done this, it had worked.

  This time, nothing happened.

  It felt like Call was slamming into a wall. The Chaos-ridden just stared at him, their coruscating eyes, like Havoc’s, whirling.

  Maybe it was because of the cuffs, he thought, trying to contort his hands to push them off his wrists.

  Then the door of the new car opened. Out stepped a tall boy with tousled brown hair. He wore a leather jacket and a nasty smirk.

  Alex Strike. Aaron’s murderer, and the only other chaos mage Call knew of.

  A growl tore out of Call’s throat as he lunged toward Alex. Behind him, Tamara was screaming and kicking at the Chaos-ridden who were holding her.

  “I’ll kill you!” There were tears on Call’s face as he flung himself at Alex. “I’ll kill you!”

  “Stop him,” said Alex lazily. Seconds later, Call felt himself seized by a dozen Chaos-ridden, their grips like iron.

  Alex’s eyes danced. “I made these,” he said, gesturing toward the Chaos-ridden in the clearing. “I am their Makar — not you, not Constantine. They obey me.”

  “That’s enough,” Anastasia said from the porch. “You are not to harm Call. No one is to harm Call. Alex, do you understand? We need to put our differences behind us.”

  Alex looked toward her sharply, then at Master Joseph as though he hoped to hear something different.

  Instead, Master Joseph smiled at all of them, like everything was going perfectly well. “Yes, no one is to harm anyone else. Let’s all go back to the stronghold peaceably. We have much to discuss. The future we have long awaited is finally here.”

  Alex’s face turned petulant, but neither of the adults seemed to notice.

  Anastasia’s eyes were fixed on Call. “I know you’re probably feeling very vexed with me right now, but I know what’s best for you. You need protection. The mages only understand shows of strength. You threw yourself on their mercy and see what it got you?”

  “Ravan will know!” Tamara yelled. “When I don’t meet her like I said I would, she’ll know you betrayed us. She’ll tell someone.”

  Anastasia shook her head and clucked her tongue as though Tamara had been slow in class. “Who will believe her? She’s an escaped elemental who burned down a prison.”

  Tamara looked defeated and furious with herself. Call wanted to tell Tamara that it wasn’t her fault that this plan was going sideways, that this kind of thing seemed to always happen when he was around. But before he could say anything, the dead thing holding him began to drag him back to the van. In a few moments, they were loaded inside, along with Havoc.

  “Seriously?” Jasper said glumly from one of the benches. “Clandestine meetings with the Enemy of Death’s minions are definitely not going to clear your name, Call. This is the opposite, in fact. This is the opposite of clearing your name.”

  “Nobody planned this, Jasper!” Tamara snapped.

  “Master Joseph did,” Jasper said, jarringly accurate. Call was used to snarky comments, but this was different. Jasper was right.

  Havoc howled in frustration and paced the small space before settling against Call’s leg.

  Call expected to hear the engine start and someone get into the front, but instead he felt the whole van lift unsteadily into the air. They all tumbled sideways, yelling. Jasper knocked into Call before sprawling over Havoc. Call banged his bad leg hard against the bench. Tamara toppled into him, getting her hair in his mouth and her knee in a place Call didn’t want to think about.

  Ow.

  Then the van lurched again and they rolled in the opposite direction.

  “Hey!” Call shouted when he got his breath back. “I thought no one was supposed to get hurt!”

  After a few more minutes of lurching, the van steadied and moved more gently through the air. They stayed on the floor until they were sure it was safe and then gingerly got back on the benches.

  Jasper rubbed his neck.

  Tamara was quiet beside Call. Taking a deep breath, he nervously reached out with his cuffed hands and took one of hers. It was warm and soft and he held it tightly as they flew toward the stronghold that had once belonged to the real Enemy of Death.

  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.