“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.

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.”