The Copper Gauntlet (Magisterium #2)(33)

Call shoved the history book under a cushion and sat up, careful not to dislodge Havoc. Because he was Rufus’s assistant, Alex was one of the only people besides Rufus to have access to the room. Still, he’d never come in like this before.

“What’s going on?” Call asked.

Alex sat down on the couch opposite Call, glancing at the closed doors of Tamara’s and Aaron’s rooms. “Are your roommates out?”

Call nodded, uncertain where this was going. Maybe he was in trouble. Maybe Alex had a message from Rufus. Maybe there was some kind of Magisterium second-year hazing ritual that involved being tied to a stalactite overnight.

“It’s about your dad,” Alex said. “I know about the Alkahest. I know the mages are looking for him.”

Call glanced down at Havoc, who growled low in his throat. “Does everyone know?” Call asked, thinking of Jasper.

Alex shook his head. “Not how serious things are.”

“My dad didn’t do it,” Call said. “Not like they’re saying. He’s not in league with the Enemy. He’s not in league with anyone.”

A strange expression passed over Alex’s face, like maybe he’d only just then realized how dangerous it was to be talking to Call about this. “I believe you,” he said finally. “Which is why you need to get word to your dad to stay hidden. If they find him, they’re going to kill him.”

“What?” Call said, although he’d heard the words perfectly clearly.

Alex shook his head. “The Alkahest is gone. If he’s the one who got it, they’re not going to bother with prison. He’ll be dead as soon as they find him. That’s why I figured you ought to know. Warn him, before it’s too late.”

Call wondered how Alex knew this stuff and then remembered his stepmother was on the Assembly. So instead he asked, “Why are you helping me?”

“Because you helped me,” he said. “Gotta go.”

Call nodded and Alex slipped out.

If Alastair were murdered by the mages, it would be Call’s fault. He had to do something, but the more he thought about it, the more he was sure that there was no safe way to get Alastair a message. Master Rufus would be watching for that — would use it to catch Alastair if he could. But if Call could find his dad in time, maybe he could warn him in person.

Thinking of Alastair made Call remember the room in the basement, set up for a ritual, and the small, boy-size cot in the corner. It made Call remember how Havoc had whined and the sound his father’s head had made when it hit the wall.

If he found his father and his father had the Alkahest, what would Alastair do with it?

Call knew he had to focus. Call knew his dad better than anyone. He should be able to guess where Alastair was hiding. It would be a place that was out of the way, one he knew really well. A place the mages wouldn’t think to look. One that wasn’t easily traceable back to him.

Call sat up straight.

Alastair bought a lot of broken-down antique cars to strip for parts — way too many to store in the garage of the house or in his shop, so he’d rented the dilapidated barn of an elderly lady about forty miles from where they lived … and paid her in cash. That barn would be a perfect hideout — Alastair had even slept there sometimes, when he was working late into the night.

Call slid off the couch, causing Havoc to tumble to the ground with an annoyed grunt. He reached down to stroke the wolf’s head. “Don’t worry, boy,” he said. “You’re coming with me.”

He headed into his bedroom and pulled his canvas duffel out from under the bed. He stuffed it quickly with clothes, tossed Miri in, and, after a moment of thought, returned to the main room to add what was left of the Ruffles chips. He’d need to have something to eat on the road.

He was just swinging the bag over his shoulder when the door opened again and Tamara and Aaron came in. Aaron was carrying a pile of books, his and Tamara’s, and she was laughing at something he’d said. For a moment, before they saw Call, they looked carefree and happy, and he felt his stomach tighten. They didn’t need him, not as a friend, not as a part of their apprentice group, not as anything but a cause of strife and argument.

Tamara caught sight of him first, and the smile slid off her face. “Call.”

Aaron shut the door behind them and set down their books. When he straightened up, he was staring at the boots on Call’s feet and the duffel in his hand.

“Where are you going?” Aaron asked.

“I was going to walk Havoc,” Call said, indicating the wolf, who was darting merrily between them.

“And you needed to pack for a week?” Tamara pointed at his duffel. “What’s going on, Call?”

“Nothing. Look, you don’t need to — you don’t need to know about this. That way, when Master Rufus asks you what happened to me, you don’t have to lie.”

Tamara shook her head. “No way. We’re a group. We tell each other things.”

“Why? So you can tell all our secrets?” Call asked, seeing Tamara flinch. He knew he was being a jerk, but he was unable to stop. “Again?”

“That depends on what you’re doing.” Aaron’s jaw was set the way Call rarely saw it. Usually Aaron was so forgiving, so immensely nice, that Call often forgot that underneath, there was the steel that made him the Makar. “Because if it’s something that’s gonna put you in danger, then I’ll tell the Masters myself. And you can be mad at me instead of her.”