The Bronze Key
Page 19Tamara laughed. Aaron sighed with deep resignation.
“Wow,” Jasper said, looking at Call with wide eyes. “You didn’t tell me he got delusional when he was tired.”
Call took a deep drink of the brown tea-like substance in his wooden cup. He hoped desperately that it had caffeine in it. All summer he’d been able to indulge in as many espressos as he wanted — Alastair had repaired an old deco-style Gaggia machine that chugged like a train — but now that he really needed it, there was no coffee in sight.
He was tired. Tired of being watched by his friends, even if it was because they were trying to keep him safe. Tired of having a horrible thing about himself — a thing he had no control over — hanging over his head. He wanted to go to school like a normal person, and right then he was willing to do anything to make that happen.
“Okay,” he said. “I will do your stupid plan.”
“What?” asked Jasper, frowning at him. “Which stupid plan?”
With a slight wince, Call climbed up onto his chair, then from his chair onto the top of their table. He stood with his foot narrowly avoiding landing in Jasper’s gray pudding, and surveyed the room.
“Oh no,” Aaron said. “I think you were right about him getting delusional with tiredness.”
“Call!” Tamara hissed in a stage whisper. “Get down!”
Call was having none of it. “GUESS WHAT,” he yelled, making his voice loud enough to carry over the whole Refectory. “I AM GOING TO BE AT THE LIBRARY TONIGHT AT MIDNIGHT. ALONE.”
He sat down again. His friends stared at him. Across the whole room, he could see other apprentices looking over at his table. Gwenda whispered something in Celia’s ear and they both started giggling. Alex Strike wore an odd, concerned expression on his face. Master Milagros was staring at Call as if he’d been dropped on his head as a child.
“That — that — What was that?” Tamara sputtered. “Are you out of your mind?”
“He was making himself bait,” Aaron said. He looked at Call with a serious expression. “I hope that was a good idea,” he said. “The downside of letting everyone know you’re going to be all alone so they can attack you is that everyone knows you’ll be all alone so they can attack you.”
“Pfft,” said Tamara. “Nobody’s going to be dumb enough to come after him because of that public announcement. They’d get caught right away.”
Call shrugged and took a big bite of lichen. He felt oddly better. Things were back in their proper place — his friends all thought he was nuts and he was about to do something foolish. A grin started at the corner of his mouth.
But either the brown liquid Call had been drinking had caffeine in it after all or having something to do helped, because energy was zipping through his veins. He didn’t feel tired anymore. He felt ready.
Call half expected there to be a group of avid onlookers when he arrived at the library that night, but it was empty. Tamara, Aaron, and Jasper did a sweep, looking behind bookcases, while Havoc nosed around under tables. The room was definitely deserted.
Call sat down at one of the tables, lit by a huge stalactite that had been driven through the center of the wood, pinning the table to the floor. Light swirled and glowed inside the stalactite.
“Okay,” said Tamara, returning from the top floor of the spiral library. “You’re on your own.”
Aaron put his hand on Call’s shoulder. “Remember,” he said. “If you need to do any chaos magic, don’t try to do it all on your own. I’m your counterweight. I’ll be just outside with the others. Draw on me, on my chaos energy, like you’d draw on air if you were underwater.”
Call nodded as Aaron let go of him and grabbed Havoc’s ruff. His dark green eyes were worried.
“Try not to do anything stupid,” Jasper said. As parting supportive remarks went, it wasn’t one of Jasper’s worst. “Here, try to pretend like you’re reading something instead of sitting here by yourself like a creeper.” He dumped a bunch of books on the table in front of Call and turned to go.
Call couldn’t imagine what that would be like, to kill someone you loved by accident. I should know what it feels like, he thought. After all, it was something that had happened to his soul — and surely that sort of thing ought to leave a mark. But Call didn’t feel anything when he thought about it except worry that he might make the same mistake.
Maybe that was proof of what was wrong with him. He ought to be feeling pity for Jericho, who had died. But all his pity was for Constantine.
“Call?”
He nearly jumped out of his skin. Whirling around, he saw that someone had come into the library — a blond someone in jeans and a T-shirt, her hair in two ponytails. She had her hands awkwardly in the back pockets of her jeans.
“Call?” said Celia again. She stepped forward, closer to him. She was blushing, which immediately made Call also blush, as if blushing were something that was catching, like chicken pox. “You said you were going to be all alone in here, so I thought …”
“Um?” he said. What had Celia thought? Maybe that he’d lost his mind and needed to be taken to the Infirmary?
“I thought maybe you wanted to talk to me,” she said, perching on a table across from his. “It’s hard to talk alone anywhere…. The Refectory’s always so crowded, and so is the Gallery, and I haven’t seen you walking Havoc lately….”