“I’m the … Enemy of Death,” Call said. The Chaos-ridden made a noise — a sort of long sigh, all of them at once. None of them moved, but it served as an awful testament to what Call was saying. “I’m Constantine Madden — or whatever’s left of him.”
“That’s not possible,” Aaron said, speaking slowly, as if he thought Call had hit his head too hard. “The Enemy of Death is alive. He’s at war with us!”
“No, Master Joseph is,” said Call. He stumbled on, through the explanation he’d been given, the one he didn’t want to understand. “The Enemy of Death was dying at the Cold Massacre. He pushed his soul into the body of a baby.” He swallowed. “That baby was me. My soul is Constantine Madden’s soul. I am Constantine.”
“You mean you killed the real Callum Hunt and took his place,” Jasper accused. Fire ignited in his palm, spreading up the bark of the stick he held until the tip of it burst into flame. It was probably the best display of fire magic Jasper had ever achieved, but he barely seemed to notice. “Quickly — we have to destroy him before he kills us all, before he kills the Makar. Aaron, you have to run!”
Aaron remained exactly where he was, though, staring at Call with a mix of disbelief and misery. “But you can’t be,” he said finally. “You’re my best friend.”
The Chaos-ridden leader lurched to his feet. All the other Chaos-ridden rose as well, like an army of puppets. They began to march toward Jasper, passing around Call as if he weren’t there.
“Wait,” Call shouted. “Don’t! Everyone stop.”
Nothing happened. The dead-eyed warriors kept coming. They weren’t moving fast, but they were moving steadily toward Jasper, who wasn’t backing away. The flame in Jasper’s hand still burned and there was a terrible look in his eyes, as though he was ready to die fighting. It was a far cry from the Jasper who had complained throughout the trip, the Jasper who whined over minor injuries. This Jasper appeared fearless.
But Call knew it wouldn’t do Jasper any good. However fearless he was, he couldn’t hold his own against hundreds of Chaos-ridden. Call had been terrified before when they had obeyed him; now he was terrified that they wouldn’t.
“Stop!” he shouted again, in a ringing voice. “You, who are born of chaos and the void, stop! I command it!”
They lurched to a stop. Jasper was breathing hard; Tamara was at his side, light burning in her palm. Aaron had moved toward them as well. His heart lurched. His friends, ranged against him.
“I didn’t know,” Call said, hearing the pleading in his own voice. “When I came to the Magisterium, I didn’t know.”
They all stared at him. Finally, Tamara spoke. “I believe you, Call,” she said.
Call swallowed and went on. “Most of the time, it doesn’t even seem possible. I’m not going to hurt anyone, okay? But, Jasper — if you go for me, the Chaos-ridden are going to kill you. I don’t know if I can stop them.”
“So when did you find out?” Aaron demanded. “That you were — what you are?”
“At the bowling alley, last year,” Call said. “Master Joseph told me, but I didn’t want to believe him. I think my dad always suspected, though.”
“And that’s why he threw such a fit when you didn’t flunk out of the Magisterium,” Jasper said. “Because he knew you were evil. He knew you were a monster.”
Call flinched.
“That’s why he wanted Master Rufus to bind your magic,” said Aaron.
Call hadn’t realized how much he had wanted Aaron to contradict Jasper, until he didn’t. “Listen, here’s the part I couldn’t explain, because it wouldn’t have made sense before. My dad doesn’t want to hurt Aaron with the Alkahest. He wants to use it to fix me.”