The Silver Mask (Magisterium #4)(18)
“If that’s what you were planning on doing, then what are you waiting for?” Call demanded.
Tamara and Jasper both half rose from the couch as if they thought a fight was coming. Havoc growled.
Master Joseph only laughed, though. “I have a proposal for you … how about that? Callum, once you complete the task I set for you, you can leave the island with your friends if that’s what you still want.”
“A task?” Call asked. “Is this some kind of trick thing where I have to tame an impossible elemental or separate dirt from sand on an entire beach?”
Master Joseph smiled. “Nothing like that.” He flung open the doors at the far end of the room. After a moment, Call and the others joined him at the entryway.
Inside was a large, white-painted room. There was nothing in it but a metal table. On top of the table lay a body that was perfectly preserved, covered to the neck by a thin white sheet.
“The task,” he said, “is to raise Aaron Stewart from the dead.”
CALL HEARD TAMARA’S awful gasp. She staggered back, and Jasper caught her arm. Call couldn’t have done it. He was completely frozen.
It was definitely Aaron on the table. He lay on his back. His blond hair had been brushed. His green eyes were open and blank.
Havoc put his head back and gave a single, awful howl of loneliness, abandonment, and horror. It was like he was making the sound Call couldn’t make. It rang and rang in Call’s ears as he stood there, his body beginning to shake.
“God, stop that noise —” It was Alex Strike, appearing in his black silk pajamas behind them. He looked rumpled and sleepy and annoyed, but the look turned quickly into a smirk. “Oh. I see you decided to show them what’s really going on here.”
Tamara, Call, and Jasper watched with horror as he walked up to the table and yanked down the sheet. Aaron was wearing what they must have planned to bury him in — his Bronze Year uniform. Alex picked up one of his wrists. His wristband gleamed on it. Stones for heroism peppered the band, along with stones for his Iron, Copper, and Bronze Years. And the black stone of chaos, because he had been a Makar.
Much good it had done him, Call thought bitterly. Alex had stolen his magic and now he was only a shell — a shell that had once held life and animation and chaos and Aaron. “Don’t touch him,” Call growled.
Alex let go of Aaron’s hand and it thumped lifelessly against the table. “Dead,” he said, cheerfully. “Muerto.”
“I think we’ve got the message,” said Jasper. “Thanks.”
“What’s going on?” said Tamara in a choked voice. “Why is Aaron here? The Magisterium is going to notice his body is missing!”
Master Joseph had been standing at the door, watching them with an eerie stillness. He came toward the center of the room now, his eyes flicking over Aaron’s body as if it were something in a petri dish. “Oh, they already know. He was taken some time ago. They haven’t said anything because it would hardly behoove them for the mage world to know they’ve messed this up, too. Losing the body of a dead Makar, after not noticing they had the Enemy of Death among them for three years? The Assembly would explode.”
“To be fair to Call,” said Jasper, “it really wouldn’t have been very easy to guess he was the EOD. He’s very wily.”
Havoc had been pulling against Call’s grip. Call let go. He felt too numb inside to care whether Havoc launched himself at Master Joseph and tried to bite his face.
But he didn’t. Instead, Havoc went over to the table where Aaron’s body lay, gave a heartbroken sniffle, and curled up under it.
“I don’t understand,” Tamara said, fighting tears. “What’s the point of this? Nobody can raise the dead! Constantine couldn’t and that’s why we have the Chaos-ridden.”
“Constantine could have,” said Master Joseph. “He was but days away from that breakthrough when the Third Mage War broke out. Then, because of the Cold Massacre, he was forced to start again. But he — you — can do it now. The knowledge was in his soul, and his soul is here, in you, Call!”
Call looked at Aaron on the table. For the first time, what Master Joseph was saying didn’t seem so crazy. Death was terrible — Alastair was still mourning Sarah and it had been more than a decade since she’d died. Call would have liked to have had a mom, even if she had some reservations about him. And all the people who hated him did so because Constantine Madden had taken someone from them. If he, Callum Hunt, could really bring people back from the dead — not halfway back, as with the creepy Chaos-ridden, but actually, really back — they would forgive him. They’d forgive him for anything.
And he could have Aaron for a best friend again. Aaron, alive and laughing. Aaron, reborn. Tamara wouldn’t have to worry about making the wrong choice in saving him. Call could stop missing him. Everything could go back to the way it was.
“Here’s the bargain I am prepared to make,” Master Joseph continued. “Callum, you stay here and work to bring Aaron back from the dead. Alex will help you, since he is the architect of this unfortunate accident.”
Call started to point out that Aaron’s death was no accident and Alex was a murderer, but Master Joseph kept speaking.
“You will have access to Constantine’s notes and my experience. Once you bring Aaron back, you can decide to take up your destiny to end death … or you can depart for good. If you choose to go, Callum, I will let you. I will accept that there isn’t enough of Constantine Madden in you and I will release you from his destiny.”