“Shut up,” Call hissed. But Alex just smirked at him.

“I don’t remember.” Aaron stared at his plate. “I remember dying. I remember you.” He looked up at Alex and his green eyes were as hard and cold as malachite. “And then I don’t remember anything else until Call woke me up.”

“He’s lying,” Alex said, reaching for his glass of Coke.

“Leave him alone,” Call said fiercely.

“Call’s right,” said Anastasia. “If Aaron doesn’t remember —”

“Though it would be very useful to have someone who knew what the afterlife was like among us,” said Master Joseph. “Imagine what powerful information that would be.”

Call pushed back his chair. “I’m not feeling well. I think I’d better go lie down.”

Anastasia was on her feet. “I’m sure you must still be exhausted. I’ll walk you back up to your room.”

“But what about Aaron?” Call said. “Where’s he going to sleep?” He tried to keep his voice calm; he was imagining Master Joseph telling him Aaron was going to go back to sleep in the experiment room, or be imprisoned somewhere.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Aaron being back was supposed to solve everything. Aaron’s death had been the moment that everything had gone terribly wrong — Call being exposed as having the Enemy’s soul, being imprisoned, being hated by most of the people he cared about. Some part of him had expected the world to right itself as soon as Aaron opened his eyes.

That part of him was childish.

“There’s a room that connects to yours,” said Anastasia. “Jericho used to stay there sometimes. Aaron could use it, right?”

She looked toward Master Joseph as she said it. His answering gaze was unreadable. There was a glint deep in his eyes that Call really didn’t like. Now that Call had done it — now that he’d actually raised Aaron — would he still be of use to Master Joseph, or would Master Joseph decide Call’s powers would be a lot more useful without Call attached to them?

“Of course,” Master Joseph said. “It may need some dusting.”

The room did need dusting — a lot of it. Anastasia used her air magic to shake the worst of it out of the bed covers and blinds, leaving all of them coughing. Jasper excused himself to “check on Tamara,” though Call suspected he was just trying to get away from the choking dust clouds.

By the time Anastasia could finally be persuaded to leave, it was clear neither Jasper nor Tamara were likely to come back. They were probably in one of their rooms, talking about Aaron’s return and what it meant. Talking about Call. He tried to tell himself that was fine and that he shouldn’t be jealous, but he was.

Aaron lay down on the bed, on top of the coverlets, and looked at the ceiling, hugging his arms around himself as if he were cold.

“Do you want to talk?” Call asked, feeling awkward.

“No,” Aaron said.

“Look,” Call said. “If you’re mad at me —”

There was a light knock on the door. It swung open slowly.

Tamara came into the room. She was wearing a lavender dress she hadn’t bothered to cut the lace off of. She looked pretty, like she was on her way to a garden party.

Call blinked, surprised to see her.

“Aaron,” she said. “I’m glad you’re back.”

He sat up slowly and looked at Tamara. His eyes weren’t swirling. He wasn’t Chaos-ridden. But Call could see Tamara wince anyway as she looked at Aaron, as if he seemed strange to her. But he’s just Aaron, Call’s mind screamed. He was traumatized. It couldn’t be easy to come back from the dead. Call willed Tamara to be understanding. He could tell she was trying. She sat down on a chair next to the dresser and clenched her hands in her lap.

“Sorry I was so weird before,” she said. “I didn’t know what to think.”

“I remember you crying,” Aaron said. “When I died.”

“Oh,” Tamara said, swallowing.

“And you knocked Call out of the way of the Alkahest,” he said. “It hit me instead.”

“Aaron.” Tamara gasped. Call’s heart was twisting inside his chest. He remembered Jasper saying to him, I just think Tamara — well, Call, I just think she liked someone else, if you get my meaning, and how he’d felt when Tamara had told him she’d never regretted saving him.

“She couldn’t save both of us and she made a split-second decision,” Call said, his voice rough. “So knock it off, Aaron.”

Aaron nodded. Call felt a slight pressure ease off his chest. That was more like Aaron. “I’m not angry,” he said. “Not at Tamara, and not at you, either, Call. I just feel like — like I have to concentrate really hard to pull myself together. Like all I want is to lie down and shut my eyes and have it be dark and quiet.”

“That makes total sense,” Call said, his words tripping over themselves in his eagerness. “You just have to get used to being alive again.”

Aaron nodded. “I guess people can get used to anything.”

“It’s incredible,” Tamara whispered. “Sitting here and listening to you talk, actually talk.”

“I’m going to be an example,” Aaron said. “Master Joseph is going to use me and Call to show them he knows how to end death.”

“Probably,” said Call.

“We have to leave,” said Aaron. “They want to use us, but they won’t hesitate to hurt us if they need to.”

“We’re going to run,” Tamara said. “All of us. We have to make it to the Magisterium.”

Aaron looked surprised. “Why go there?”

“To warn them,” Tamara explained. “They need to know what Master Joseph is planning. What his weaknesses are.”

“We won’t be safe at the Magisterium,” Aaron said. “We’ll just be in a different kind of danger.”

“But if we don’t warn them, they’ll be in danger,” Call said.

“So what?” said Aaron.

Tamara was twisting her hands in her lap. “We’re talking about our friends,” she said. “The Magisterium — people you know. Master Rufus, Celia, Rafe, Kai, Gwenda —”

“I don’t know them that well,” said Aaron. He didn’t sound angry. Just distant. Weary and distant in a way he’d never sounded before.

Tamara pushed her chair back. “I have to go — go to sleep,” she said, and moved toward the door. She paused and picked up a book from on the dresser. Jericho’s diary. Call wondered what she wanted it for. He was going to ask her when Aaron spoke again.

“Everyone has to die eventually,” said Aaron. “I don’t see how us dying for the Magisterium helps.”

Call heard Tamara choke back a sob as she fumbled for the knob and let herself out of the room.

When Aaron turned back to him, Call felt more exhausted than he ever had before. He didn’t want to talk to Aaron, for the first time in his life. He wanted to be alone.

“Go to sleep, Aaron,” he said, standing up. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”