“You know what I mean,” Call said with a sigh … although he couldn’t deny that it made him feel better that Alastair had corrected him. “When did you realize I had his soul?”

“Early,” Alastair said, surprising Call a little. “I guessed. I knew what Constantine had been studying. It seemed possible he had succeeded in shifting his soul into your body.”

Callum remembered the damning message his mother had left for Alastair, the one that Master Joseph, the Enemy of Death’s instructor and most devoted minion, had shown him, but that his father had left out of his story:

KILL THE CHILD.

It still chilled him to think of his mother writing that with her dying strength, of his father reading those words with a squalling baby — Call — in his arms.

Alastair could have just walked out of the cave if he guessed what it meant. The cold would have done the rest.

“Why did you do it? Why did you save me?” Callum demanded now. He hadn’t meant his words to sound so angry, but they did. He felt angry, even though he knew the alternative was his own death.

“You’re my son,” Alastair said again, helplessly. “Whatever else you are, you are always and also my child. Souls are malleable, Call. They’re not set in stone. I thought if I raised you correctly … if I gave you the right guidance … if I loved you enough, you would be all right.”

“Look how that turned out,” Call said.

Before his dad could answer, a guard reappeared in front of the cell to announce that visiting time was over.

Alastair stood up and then, in a low voice, spoke again. “I don’t know if I did any of the right things, Call. But for what it’s worth, I think you turned out fine.”

With that, he walked away, escorted by another guard.

Call slept better that night than he had since his first night in the Panopticon. The bed was narrow and the mattress flat, and it was cold in the cell. At night, when he closed his eyes, he always had the same dream: the bolt of magic hitting Aaron. Aaron’s body sailing through the air before it hit the ground. Tamara crouched over Aaron, sobbing. And a voice saying, It’s your fault; it’s your fault.

That night, though, he didn’t dream, and when he woke up, there was a guard outside his cell, holding his tray of breakfast. “You’ve got another visitor,” the guard said, looking at Call sideways. He was pretty sure all the guards were still waiting for him to slay them with that charisma.

Call sat up. “Who is it?”

The guard shrugged. “Some student from your school.”

Call’s heart began to pound. It was Tamara. It had to be Tamara. Who else would visit him?

He barely noticed the guard sliding the breakfast tray through the narrow opening at the bottom of the door. He was too busy sitting up straight and running his fingers through his tangled hair, trying to calm it and figure out what to say to Tamara when she came in.

Hey, how are you doing, sorry I let our best friend get killed….

The door opened and his visitor came through, walking between two guards. It was a Magisterium student — that was true.

But it wasn’t Tamara.

“Jasper?” Call said in disbelief.

“I know.” Jasper held up his hands as if to ward off gratitude. “Obviously you’re overwhelmed by my kindness in coming here.”

“Uh,” Call said. Master Rufus had been right about Jasper — his hair looked like he hadn’t brushed it in years. It was sticking out all over. Call marveled at it. Had Jasper really worked to get it looking like that? On purpose? “I assume you came to tell me how much everyone at school hates me.”

“They don’t think of you all that much,” Jasper said, obviously lying. “You just didn’t make that big of an impression. Mostly, everyone’s sad about Aaron. They thought of you as his sidekick, you know? Blending into the background.”

They think of you as his murderer. That’s what Jasper meant, even if he didn’t say it.

After that, Call couldn’t bring himself to ask about Tamara. “Did you get in a lot of trouble?” he asked instead. “I mean, because of me.”

Jasper rubbed his hands against his designer jeans. “Mostly they wanted to know if you put spells on us to keep us in your dark thrall. I said you weren’t a good enough mage to do anything like that.”

“Thanks, Jasper,” said Call, not sure if he meant it or not.

“So what’s it like in the ole Panopticon?” Jasper asked, looking around. “It’s very, uh, sterile-looking in here. Have you met any real criminals? Did you get a tattoo?”

“Seriously?” Call said. “You came to ask me if I got a tattoo?”

“No,” said Jasper, abandoning all pretenses. “I actually came because — well — Celia broke up with me.”

“What?” Call was incredulous. “I can’t believe it.”

“I know!” said Jasper. “I can’t believe it either!” He flopped down in the uncomfortable visitor chair. “We were perfect together!”

Call wished he could reach Jasper so he could strangle him. “No, I meant I can’t believe you went through six checkpoints and a potentially embarrassing full-body search just so you could come here and complain about your love life!”

“You’re the only one I can talk to, Call,” said Jasper.

“You mean because I’m chained to this floor and can’t get away?”

“Exactly.” Jasper seemed pleased. “Everyone else bolts when they see me. But they don’t understand. I have to get Celia back.”

“Jasper,” said Call. “Tell me something, and please answer honestly.”

Jasper nodded.

“Is this the Assembly’s new strategy for torturing me until I give them information?”

Just as he spoke, a thin tendril of smoke rose from the ground-floor level, followed by the flicker of flames. In the distance, an alarm started to sound.

The Panopticon was on fire.

THE TWO GUARDS who had brought Jasper to Call’s cell began talking to each other in hushed tones. From the other side of the prison, some shouting began and then abruptly ceased.

“I think I better go.” Jasper rose to his feet, looking around anxiously.

“No!” one of the guards barked. “This is an emergency. No visitors moving around on their own. For your safety, you’re going to have to follow us while we escort the prisoner to an evacuation vehicle.”

“You want me next to the Enemy of Death when he’s outside his cell?” Jasper demanded, as though he had something to be worried about. “How is that safe?”

Call rolled his eyes.

One of the guards deactivated a section of the elemental wall and entered Call’s cell, putting a fresh set of cuffs on him.

“Come on,” the guard said. “You walk between us and the apprentice goes in front.”

Call dug in his heels. “Something’s wrong,” he said.

“The place is on fire,” Jasper said, looking behind him. “I’d say something’s wrong.”

Call went on. “I’ve been listening to a panel of mages tell me how invulnerable this place is for weeks. How nothing can break into it or destroy it. It shouldn’t be on fire.”