The Silver Mask (Magisterium #4)(13)

Tamara let out a long sigh. “I know we have bigger problems, but my room is embarrassing!”

The walls were painted a soft pink. The dark pink canopy bed was hung with gauzy, iridescent material. The bedding was neon pink and covered in ruffles. On top of it sat a massive stuffed unicorn with a silver cloth horn. On the floor rested a fuzzy pink rug in the shape of a heart.

“Wow,” Call said.

“You should see the clothes in the closet,” Tamara said. “No, actually, no one should ever see the clothes in the closet.”

From down the stairs came a call. “Dinner!”

“Do you think this is some fiendish plot of Master Joseph’s to make sure we don’t get any sleep?” Call wanted to know as they trooped down the stairs. “Don’t cults try to brainwash you by keeping you tired?”

Tamara wrinkled her nose like she was going to disagree, but didn’t. Instead, she seemed to be weighing the possibility.

As they headed into the room with the long table, set for six and heaped with enough food to feed double that number, Call had to consider that Master Joseph might have a different fiendish scheme. In addition to keeping you sleep deprived, cults weren’t supposed to feed you enough, but it seemed like Master Joseph was intent on feeding them way too much.

The cauldron of chili had been moved to the center of the table, where it bubbled deliciously, a mound of cheese atop it. More cheese was grated onto a plate, along with chopped green onions and a tub of sour cream. Golden squares of corn bread were stacked in the shape of a ziggurat beside a slab of butter with a knife sticking out of it and a jar of honey. On the nearby sideboard sat three pies — two pecan and one sweet potato. Call’s stomach growled loudly enough for Jasper to turn in surprise, as though a Chaos-ridden wolf might be behind him.

A Chaos-ridden person slapped down a pitcher of what looked like sweet tea, hard enough to spill some, then looked at Call with an empty expression, tipped its head toward him in a kind of bow, and left the room. Call wondered at the violence with which the Chaos-ridden moved. He’d always thought they fought because they’d been commanded to, but maybe they had a bent toward murderousness.

Then he was too busy drooling to wonder about anything else.

Master Joseph looked pleased by their reactions. “Sit, sit. The others will be with us in a moment.”

After many months in prison eating disgusting prison food, Call needed no urging. He slid into a seat and tucked the cloth napkin into his shirt eagerly.

“Do you think it might be poisoned?” Tamara whispered, sitting down beside him. Jasper sat on her other side, leaning in to hear what she was saying.

“He’s going to eat it, too,” said Call, cutting his gaze toward Master Joseph.

“He could have taken the antidote,” Tamara insisted. “And given it to Alex and Anastasia.”

“He wouldn’t kidnap you and Call and give you customized bedrooms just to poison you,” Jasper whispered back to them. “You’re both idiots. The only person he would poison is me.”

The doors opened and Anastasia came in, followed by Alex. Call had almost forgotten they knew each other well — Anastasia had married Alex’s father in an attempt to conceal her identity as Eliza Madden. She looked regal in a white pantsuit, her hair drawn back in a smooth chignon. Alex had on jeans and a black shirt with a death’s-head moth on the front. It was actually kind of cool, and Call found himself wishing he had one. (On the other hand, it did seem like the kind of thing an Evil Overlord might wear.)

Alex sat down and immediately started dishing himself up some chili. Once he was done, Jasper snatched the spoon from him and pretty soon everyone was digging into their food (except Anastasia, who took only some corn bread and nibbled on the edge).

At the first bite of chili, the flavors exploded in Call’s mouth — sweet, spicy, smoky. It wasn’t prison food, and it wasn’t lichen. “The food of evil is so good,” he muttered to Tamara, on his left.

“That’s how they get you,” she muttered back, but she was already on her second helping of corn bread.

“This is delightful,” said Master Joseph, gazing around with a deceptively benign air. “I remember such meals with Constantine and his friends. Jasper, you make an excellent Alastair Hunt, and you, Tamara, of course would be Sarah.”

Tamara looked horrified at the idea of being Call’s mom. Call was just horrified by the whole conversation.

“Uh-huh,” said Alex, looking like he was enjoying himself. “So who am I, then?”

“Not Jericho,” said Anastasia flatly.

“You’re Declan,” said Master Joseph. “He was a nice boy.”

Declan Novak had been Call’s uncle. He’d died in the Cold Massacre, protecting Call’s mother. Though he’d never met Declan, Call was sure he was nothing like Alex.

“I ought to be Constantine,” Alex muttered. His gaze went to the other room, where the silver mask and the Alkahest hung over the fireplace.

“Wow,” said Jasper loudly, breaking the uncomfortable silence that followed this pronouncement. “Who’s ready for pie? I know I am.”

He stood up with his plate, but Master Joseph gestured for him to stay where he was.

“Let Call choose the first piece of pie,” said Master Joseph. “In this house, all things serve the Enemy of Death.”