A/N: Hey, guys! This is officially the most stressful fic I have ever written. Why? Because this clown here wrote the entire thing out of order without caring for the headache I was gonna give myself later (typical). Somehow though, I managed to organize things to my satisfaction and ended up quite happy with the end result. This story has lived in my head for a long, long time. It was in the backburner forever and I don't regret it because some of the best things in this fic came to me as time went on. Now I'm extremely nervous, but also excited, to finally be posting it.

Also, it ended up becoming my longest Magisterium fic as of yet? Like, how did that happen?

This fic takes place during the Bronze Key timeline. It has spoilers for The Bronze Key and has implied spoilers for the plot twist near the end of The Golden Tower (nothing is said outright, but it's heavily hinted at), so don't read if you don't wanna get spoiled.

I also published this fic on AO3 (username: MidnightHalo27).

Disclaimer: The Magisterium book series belongs to Cassandra Clare and Holly Black, not me. Mayhem is mine though.

I hope you like it! Reviews, kudos, etc are awesome! Constructive criticism is very welcome, but flames will be used to roast marshmallows.

Hope you're all well in these scary times. Stay strong.

Hellcat

by: GakuenAlicefan27

It starts with a summoning.

~x~

Call is lonely.

It's not exactly new, considering he never had friends before he came to the Magisterium. But it's different, in a way. More acute, and probably worse, if he's being sincere.

Because he does have friends now, and at least two of them seem like the type that last a lifetime; but he also has a past that's coming to get him, and someone who is out to kill him, and one innocent girl already got caught in the crossfire, and it's at moments like these that Call is reminded of the fact that Aaron and Tamara don't really understand. They know his secret, and they accept him, may even love him, but they don't understand.

Because Call's secret is of the kind that destroys everything, whether revealed or not; because if you tell, your life falls apart, and if you don't tell, it eats at you, day by day, from the inside out. The kind that constricts your chest and makes it hard to breathe; chokes your throat so bad it makes you want to claw it out, consumes your thoughts till everything else just orbits around it. The kind of secret that means it's you against the world, no matter how many friends you have.

So, Call is lonely, and he's scared, and he guesses he's gonna have to learn to live like that, because he doesn't know how to make it stop.

~x~

A boy stands in a forest, his silhouette illuminated only by the light of the full moon.

~x~

Call wakes up to something soft and fluffy tickling his nose. At first, he thinks that Havoc's tail is attacking his face, but when he opens his eyes he sees that what's just woken him, although a tail, is not Havoc's.

He blinks, still groggy from sleep, duly noting that there is a cat lying on his pillow, yellow eyes staring back at him.

"Huh." He says, closing his eyes again and readjusting himself on his bed to try and catch a little more sleep before it's time to get up.

Seconds later, his brain catches up to him.

He scrambles to get up, getting one of his legs stuck in the covers and nearly falling to the ground. Havoc raises his head at the commotion; Call half-expects him to go after the cat, but he doesn't seem to mind.

The cat looks at Call, unimpressed, as if judging him for his lack of grace. Call looks at the cat, unimpressed, judging them for their lack of manners.

"You're the one who showed up uninvited at my bedroom." He says, matter-of-factly.

The cat meows at him. Call sighs and stretches out his hand for them to lick; in doing so, he notices that there's a cut on his palm. A shallow one, but with crusted blood still on it. He wonders how the hell he managed to cut himself while sleeping.

The cat meows again, this time lying on their back for a belly rub, and Call sees that it's a female.

"You're a little beauty, did you know that?" He asks, caressing the black fur up and down. "How did you get in here anyway?" He looks around, trying to find some hole in the walls but seeing none.

He carefully picks her up. She's not a kitten, but still barely bigger than one. He holds her to his chest and she immediately starts purring. Call smiles, feeling something like contentment spread over him, a sense of peace that he hasn't felt in a long time.

"What should I call you?" Call asks, just as Havoc gets up and makes his way to him, nuzzling his leg fondly. "Uhm, something to match your brother…Mayhem, perhaps?"

Mayhem looks at him for an instant, pondering, and then resumes her activities, as if saying it will do.

Call laughs, enjoying the warmth he's feeling for a moment more before getting up and getting dressed.

Today's gonna be a good day, he thinks, leaving his chamber.

"Morning, Call." Tamara says. Then she takes one look at Mayhem, cradled in Call's arms, and screams.

~x~

It's late at night, and the boy shouldn't be awake; though perhaps awake is not the right word for the state he's in.

~x~

"This seems like a slightly disproportionate reaction to a cat." Call mutters to himself. "She's not even chaos-ridden, for God's sake."

Said disproportionate reaction being that Call has spent the better part of the day being shuffled about from one room to another, and subjected to the ogling and questions of a dozen masters and another dozen Assembly members, but none of them will tell him what the issue is, just look at him with their wide eyes and pale faces, all but screeching every time May so much as moves in Call's arms.

It's nearly eight at night, and Call has eaten maybe two granola bars. His patience is wearing thin.

The door opens again, and Call stands up, ready to singe someone's eyebrows with a well-aimed conjured flame, when he sees it's Master Rufus.

Call sits down again, Mayhem safely tucked in his arms. For a moment, Master Rufus' eyes stray to her and he pinches the bridge of his nose tiredly. He doesn't look angry, so Call takes that as a win; but then again, no one he'd seen that day had looked angry either. Shocked, yes. Incredulous, yes. Frightened to the bone, yes. But no one had looked angry.

Master Rufus sighs. "Hello, Call."

"Hello, Master Rufus."

"I don't suppose you know why you're here?"

"Uhm." Call says, shifting slightly. "I got a cat and everyone lost their minds and now I'm in trouble?"

Master Rufus smiles thinly. "You're not in trouble, Call."

"Well, that's reassuring to hear." Call says, not feeling reassured at all.

Once again, Master Rufus' eyes shift to Mayhem, and Call fights the urge to move her somewhere out of sight.

"Do you know what a familiar is?" Master Rufus asks, turning his gaze to Call.

Call blinks. "Yes." He answers. "I mean, if you're talking about the ones that are mentioned in witch stories and TV shows, then yeah." He says. And then, the penny drops. "Wait. Seriously?"

"Seriously."

Call picks up the little ball of fur and raises her to his eye level, not knowing what to say or what he intends with the gesture. He looks at her for a while, letting the facts sink in, and then opts to restore her to her original resting spot in his arms.

He looks at Master Rufus, who had remained silent as Call examined Mayhem under that new light, and says: "That means she's special, right? She's bonded to me, somehow."

"Yes. Your magic called to her, and she answered."

"But how did I do that? And how did she get all the way to my chamber?"

At that, Master Rufus' posture, which had eased as the conversation went on, grows tense again. "Perhaps called to her isn't the correct term." His mouth contorts briefly. "I believe summoned her would be more appropriate."

Call laughs at the expression on his face. "Gee, you make it seem as if I brought her from hell." He says, smiling at the impossibility of the thought.

But Master Rufus doesn't smile back and, little by little, the color drains from Call's face. "Please, don't tell me she came from hell." He pleads.

Master Rufus tries to lessen his panic. "Not necessarily." He assures him. "A familiar may come from a myriad of places, dimensions that run parallel to our own."

"But hell is an option." Call says, seeing right through him.

His master sighs. "It is."

He swallows dry, two thoughts running around in his head:

The first is that of course, of freaking course, Call would be the one to accidentally summon a demon from hell. He is an evil overlord after all, and nothing says evil overlord more than messing with hell. He will have to add a thousand points to his evil overlord list. He's probably surpassed his past self in evilness by now.

And the second is that, surprisingly, this doesn't change a thing about how he feels towards Mayhem.

Even with what he's been told, he can't bring himself to stop caring for her or feeling centered when she is in his arms. And now that he thinks about it, that should have been his first clue that she wasn't just an ordinary cat.

Still, this doesn't change anything, and isn't that a scary thought?

I probably brought something from hell, and I don't even regret it.

But how?

"How?" He asks out loud. "Master Rufus, how did I do that?"

"We don't know." Master Rufus looks frustrated. He looks at Call's hand. "Your hand has a cut, doesn't it? Was it there when you went to bed last night?"

Call instinctively looks at it. "No? I mean, I thought I had cut myself while sleeping somehow."

Master Rufus raises an eyebrow. "I hate to have to ask, but are you being sincere, Call?"

"I swear." Call says.

"Then I will believe you, but this cut does not seem like the type that someone gets by accident, and it makes sense that the summoning of a familiar would require some form of bloodletting. It is possible that you did this to yourself, unconsciously."

"Unconsciously." Call repeats, not sure if it's something he can believe in. He thinks he would remember calling forth a familiar from another dimension.

He thinks.

"And probably somewhere other than your room, because it has been examined, and no signs of a ritual were found."

Call scowls. "People were in my room?"

"It was necessary, Call, in order to try and understand how this happened."

Call counts to ten in his head, then breathes in and out and thanks whichever deity is listening that he always keeps Constantine's old bracelet with him.

Mayhem meows softly at him, tail curling around his arm. He focuses on her as he asks:

"And they didn't find anything?"

Master Rufus shakes his head. "Nothing, except a bit of dried blood where your hand touched the sheets. Some dirt too. You don't remember leaving your room last night? Not even for a glass of water?"

"My feet were dirty when I got up." Call admits. "But no. I don't remember going anywhere."

Master Rufus nods. "We'll look more into it."

Call nods back and shifts in his seat, not knowing how to ask what he wants to ask; not knowing if he wants to know the answer.

"But," He begins, pauses, then blurts out. "Why is everyone making such a big deal out of this?"

Master Rufus clears his throat. He looks anxious, or as anxious as someone like him lets other people see. Call thinks this doesn't bode well for him. "Because this kind of thing…it isn't done, Call. Not anymore, not in centuries."

"That can't be true." Call says, feeling his throat close up. He chokes out. "I mean, surely someone else must have done it recently. Even if it's forbidden, it must have happened. Accidents happen. Maybe someone who lost control of their power, or even a child trying to imitate what they saw on TV." He insists. "It must have happened, right?"

But Master Rufus only looks at him in silence for a few moments, as if trying to choose his words. And then, at last, he says:

"It doesn't happen, Call. It's not forbidden. There's no law for that. It simply doesn't happen, because it can't."

"What do you mean?" Call whispers.

"Magic…" Master Rufus begins, and then stops himself. He sighs. "The whole explanation would be a history lesson of several hours at the least, so I'm gonna give you a shortened one now, alright?"

"Okay."

"Magic is not stagnant. It changes. It adapts. Sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse, and sometimes there's just no telling. From one century to another the changes are mostly subtle, but when comparing a type of magic from centuries ago with the magic we use today, the differences are significant. Do you understand that?"

Call nods.

"A long time ago, the magic users were called witches, not mages. Their magic was different in that it did not rely so heavily on the elements, and it was much more like the magic you see on the media nowadays, with a bigger focus on potions, spells, rituals, the cycles of the moon and the like."

Call raises his eyebrows, but does not say anything.

"As the centuries went on, these practices started to die out. This happened because other branches of magic, such as the quinquex-focused one we have now, were starting to be more used, and so the people's magical cores began to adapt to fit these other styles better. With time, the gap between what the magic had been like and what it had become was so big that the old practices turned into something that not only wasn't used due to preference, but couldn't be used if people tried. The magic wasn't the right type anymore."

"Hold on." Call says, feeling his heart start to pound. "So, what you're trying to tell me is that what I did - summoning a familiar - is something I shouldn't have been able to do, because the kind of magical core that did that…" Call gulps. "Died out?"

"Centuries ago."

Call slumps on his chair. "That's why everyone freaked out."

"Yes."

"But…how did even I know what to do for the summoning? I mean, if we simply accept that my magic is, for some reason, different then everyone else's, I still had to do a ritual of some kind. How does that work? What does it entail?"

"We don't know."

"I – Wait, what?" He stares at Master Rufus. "What do you mean you don't know?"

"There was an effort to try and preserve the knowledge of the ways of old, of course, if only for the sake of recording history, but I'm ashamed to say that much of it was lost to time."

"Like the ritual for calling the familiar."

"Yes."

"No one knows how the ritual was done, is that it?"

"Well," Master Rufus raises an eyebrow. "I suppose you do know, even if just instinctually. You did it, after all."

"Too bad my instincts can't be interrogated."

"That doesn't mean people won't try." Master Rufus says, looking somber.

Call stiffens. "What do you mean?"

"I told you you're not in trouble, and that is true, but it doesn't mean this isn't gonna be investigated. This situation is too aberrant for the other mages not to pay attention to it. There will be much interest in you, and in what you can do," Master Rufus looks at Mayhem. "And in what she can do."

Call jumps from his seat. "No one is touching May." He snarls.

If Master Rufus is surprised by Call's tone, he doesn't show it. "No, I don't think they will. Chances are they will be too scared to. But they will keep an eye on her."

Call's defensive posture doesn't change.

"I mean it, Call."

"I don't mean to offend, but you also said that I'm not in trouble. Twice."

"That–"

"Is not true." Call interrupts him. "I know you think it is, but it's not. I may not be in trouble in the sense that I didn't break any law, but my life is gonna be hell because of this. I've seen the way people act around Aaron and I now that the war is over; like we are something to fear, because we are different, because we are makaris." He makes a frustrated noise. "Well, I'm the king of different now. What does that mean for me?"

Master Rufus stands up as well. "Call, we will deal with this. Together. If someone tries to hurt you, we'll…"

"You'll what? Protect me?" He smiles, but it's a mirthless thing. "You can only protect me from physical blows, Master Rufus, but those are not the ones I'm worried about."

"Call…" Master Rufus begins, his shoulders dropping minutely. "You can always talk to me, if you need someone to listen. And I can't talk for Aaron or Tamara, but I reckon they'd say the same, if they were here now."

"I know." Call says, looking down. And he does, he really does. But it's still difficult.

"She can too." Master Rufus says.

Call raises his eyes and sees who Master Rufus is looking at. "May?" He asks.

"Familiars are companions, Call. Witches called on them for various reasons – some because they wanted to stabilize their powers; others because they needed help. There were even the ones who did it simply because it was part of their culture. But familiars are companions, first and foremost." Master Rufus looks at him, something like concern flashing in his eyes. "You are a little young, according to the few records we managed to save, to have summoned your familiar already, but you must have had a good reason for summoning her now."

Call thinks of the fear he's been living with in the past few weeks; the restlessness that's lodged itself into his bones. And the loneliness, especially the loneliness.

"I…" He begins, but he doesn't know what he wants to say. He closes his eyes, feeling a wave of nausea come and go. "I need to eat something, and then I need to go to bed and sleep on this." He says.

Master Rufus' eyes soften. "I understand. You may go. We'll talk more tomorrow."

But Call stays in place.

"Call?"

He bites his lip. "Do you think I could sleep somewhere else, at least tonight?"

"Are you uncomfortable staying in your bedroom?"

He looks down. "No, but I think May scares Tamara." He frowns, looking up again. "Now that I think about it, how did Tamara even know May wasn't an ordinary cat? How did everyone else know?"

Master Rufus raises an eyebrow. "You don't feel it?"

"Feel what?"

"There's an energy about her, Call. Not an aura, per see, but a feeling you get when you look at her."

"So this is why Tamara was afraid?"

Master Rufus studies May. "I do not think Tamara was afraid, exactly. She probably just screamed because of the suddenness of it. It is not necessarily a bad type of energy; it just makes it obvious that there is something very, very off about May. Something unsettling.

Call, who has been told he is unsettling before, tries his best not to feel offended. "Well, I don't feel it."

"It makes sense that you wouldn't."

He sighs. "At least something makes sense then."

~x~

He is young, but not really, and he is not in the forest because he likes to be, but because it is the best place to be in order to achieve what he wants.

~x~

"I really didn't mean to scream. I was just startled." Is what Tamara says, as soon as he crosses the door to their chambers the next day.

Call chuckles. He should have known Master Rufus would say something to her. "It's okay, Tamara."

She sighs, relieved, and her eyes soon fall on May, coming up right behind Call. Her posture goes a little stiff.

Call smiles wryly at the ground. Perhaps it's true that Tamara isn't afraid of May, but she is, at the very least, wary of her. He can't even blame her.

May rubs against his leg, tail wrapping around his ankle briefly, and then she starts walking about the chamber, exploring. For a moment, Tamara's gaze follows her, as if she's hypnotized, but she snaps out of it right after and moves to sit on the arm of the sofa.

Call side-eyes Aaron, who has been quietly sitting on said sofa the whole time. He hadn't screamed upon seeing May for the first time, but he had been very pale before the Masters stormed in to whisk Call away.

"Are you alright, Aaron?" Call asks, thinking that he still looks kind of pale.

Aaron blinks at him, surprised. "If I'm alright? I'm the one who should be asking you that, Call." He shakes his head, as if he can't believe this situation. Call can relate. "I didn't know exactly what was going on. Tamara had to explain some things to me, but even she didn't know much." He looks at May a little dubiously, as if he expects her to grow horns or something. Perhaps he does. "The cat…"

"Mayhem. May for short." Call interrupts.

"She unnerves me, I'm not gonna lie. It's strange because I look at her and see a cat, but at the same time there's something in me whispering that she's a terrifying thing."

Tamara nods in agreement and pats the spot on the sofa in between she and Aaron. Call all but tumbles into it. It goes without saying that he didn't sleep well.

"So, what did the masters say?" Aaron asks.

Call groans just remembering the whole ordeal, but tells them what Master Rufus told him.

When he finishes, Tamara hums noncommittally, leaning into him, which in turn makes him lean into Aaron. "So you really don't remember how you summoned her?"

"Not a thing."

She whistles lowly. "The scholars here and at the Collegium are gonna freak out, and just you wait till word of this gets overseas."

"Jesus, Tamara, don't go around telling me horror stories this early in the morning." He mumbles. She laughs softly. "But since you started it, what's the damage?"

"What do you mean?" Aaron asks.

"What is everyone saying about me? Be sincere."

"Same as always. Sincerely."

"Gotta prepare myself for the gaping and the whispers."

"Just another Monday." Tamara says.

"Yup." Aaron says. "Just another day in the life of –" He freezes.

"What?" Call asks, alarmed.

"Oh my God she's staring at us. Is she jealous? Does she not like it that we're so close to you? Why is she looking at us like that? I'm feeling so judged." Aaron says, basically in one breath.

Call rolls his eyes. "You're fine. She approves of you two."

"No, really." Tamara says. "She's so still, and she's just staring, maybe we should…"

"I'm serious, Tamara. She approves of you."

Tamara blinks at him. "How do you know that?"

Call shrugs. "I can feel it." Aaron and Tamara exchange a glance, but don't say anything.

A couple of minutes pass by in silence, and Call is almost sleeping on his friends when Tamara voices the one thing he'd spent the entire night thinking about:

"Do you think this has something to do with Captain Fishface?" She asks, quietly. Call feels Aaron stiffen next to him.

He shrugs. "I don't know."

And that is the thing that's killing him. Because most of the crap that's happened to Call since getting into the Magisterium has one common denominator: the fact that he has Constantine Madden's soul. It's a horrible thing, but it's a solid truth, and nearly everything can be traced back to that.

This though, doesn't make sense. Master Rufus said that magic like Call's hadn't been seen in centuries, so how would this be Constantine's fault?

And if being Constantine can't explain it, that means it's something new; another problem for him to worry about, another answer to find, another something to be used against him.

"Maybe he did something to cause this." Tamara says. "He must have looked into all kinds of old texts to try and bring a soul back from the afterlife. He probably messed with something he shouldn't."

"He definitely messed with things he shouldn't." Call says. "I just have my doubts that this was one of them."

Deep down in his bones though, he knows. His bond with Mayhem doesn't feel like a messed up thing.

Tamara frowns, but doesn't say whatever she's thinking. Aaron looks worried.

Call is worried too, but he's been worried for hours, and the tiredness is catching up to him. He can feel his eyelids drooping.

"We'll help you figure it out, Call." Aaron says, squeezing his arm gently.

"Thank you." He says, fighting a yawn.

He doesn't remember falling asleep, but he has a fuzzy remembrance of hearing a conversation that might have gone like this:

Aaron: "Are you gonna try and scratch my face off if I carry him to bed?"

May: "Meow."

Aaron: "I'll take your word for it."

Tamara: "What even is my life."

And when Call wakes up, it's already late afternoon, and he's on his own bed.

~x~

The sky is clear and there's no wind. It's a good night for this; a good night for witches. But then again, all nights are.

~x~

The next day is, predictably, hell on earth.

Aaron and Tamara had already been flanking him everywhere he went, because there was a killer after him, but now it's like they're trying to form a protective shield between him and all the stares.

"Let them look." Call snaps, when an entire morning has gone by and he needs space to breathe.

Tamara jumps, startled. "We're trying to help, Call."

"I know, and I love you for that, but I need to know that I can take three steps without bumping into one of you."

"How about two steps?" Aaron asks, and coming from anyone else Call would think he was being made fun of, but he just looks so damn earnest that it's impossible to doubt his sincerity.

Call takes a deep breath and lets it out. May meows at him from her spot on the ground and a student passing by gets so distracted trying to get a look at her that he walks into a wall.

Call pinches the bridge of his nose. "Look," He says, trying his best not to sound as annoyed as he feels. "Shielding me is worse. It just makes everyone try to look harder. Besides, what are you gonna do, follow me around for the rest of my life? She," He points at May. "Is a forever thing. The sooner people get used to her, the better. I'd rather just get this part over with."

Aaron and Tamara exchange a glance. After a few moments of a conversation that seems to somehow be going on in their minds, they nod.

Call sighs in relief.

~x~

He's barefoot, but he doesn't mind; and he's brought a blade, which he uses to make a cut into his palm.

~x~

The cafeteria gets silent when they walk in. Call feels like some rare specimen being put up for an exhibition. He bites his tongue before he tells them to take a picture, because some of them just might.

He grabs his tray and makes for his usual table. He sits beside Tamara, and when he does, even his friends fall silent, eyes trained on May.

Then Aaron sits down as well. He coughs to clear his throat. "So," He says. "Lovely weather we're having, isn't it?"

For a moment, the silence remains, but then Rafe snorts and says: "You're hopeless, Aaron." And the tension breaks.

Jasper makes a show of smirking at Call. "A black cat, Call, really?" He drawls. "Way to be a cliché."

"I think it's really cool." Celia says.

"Thank you, Celia." Call says, smiling in triumph at Jasper, who rolls his eyes.

"What's his name?" Gwenda asks.

"Her. And it's Mayhem. May for short."

"Oh great, here we go again." Jasper says.

"Shut up, I give the best names."

And just like that, they fall into easy banter, with their friends butting in every once in a while, and Call almost forgets the pointing and the stares.

Almost.

~x~

He stretches out his palm, letting the blood fall to the earth.

~x~

They call his father, because of course they do.

Don't get Call wrong, he was perfectly aware someone would talk to Alastair. They have the same blood, after all, and the mages have to investigate if Call's peculiarity might be genetic.

But he thought he would have time to talk to him first. He wanted to be the one to tell him. Instead, he only finds out his father is at the Magisterium when Alastair himself seeks him out.

"Sorry you had to find out that way." Call says that night, as they are outside walking Havoc, Mayhem on their heels.

Call had been scared his father was gonna blow a gasket when he found out, but he merely stared at May for a long time, looking lost. He wonders if it simply hasn't sunk in yet; if his father is still processing everything in his head and the freak out is gonna happen later.

Alastair shakes his head. He's got a few more white hairs than he did last year. Call has some himself. "Don't worry about it, Call." He says, and looks over his shoulder once, to see if May is still following them. He shakes his head again when he sees that she is, almost as if he had expected her to be a figment of his imagination. "I just don't understand."

"Neither do I." Call says, then looks at his father from the corner of his eyes. "Do you think this might have anything to do with Constantine?" He asks, because he has to ask.

"No. Definitely not."

Call raises an eyebrow. "You sound pretty sure."

Alastair stops walking. "I'm not sure." He pinches the bridge of his nose, a nervous habit that Call has picked up. "I can't be sure of anything. I don't know what kind of things Constantine got himself involved with after he left with Joseph. It's just that…heaven, hell, these kinds of things - he didn't like them. Not at all. He was scared of them even. I can't imagine him doing something like this, changing his magic to the point that would allow him to summon a familiar. I don't see him ever wanting to do that."

Call thinks about all of that, and the inflection in Alastair's voice when he said heaven and hell. He frowns.

"I don't know where she came from." He says. "But it doesn't matter. She's here for me. She'll protect me."

"I know."

"I don't want you to be afraid of her, or try to hurt her."

His father looks at him with wide eyes. "I was not thinking of hurting her, Call."

Call doesn't say anything, just turns his head to look at where Havoc is inspecting some bushes. He will not say it. He will not say it. He will not –

"You had someone chain him." You tried to chain me.

He hates himself for saying it. He hates himself for thinking it. He thought he'd forgiven Alastair for that.

Maybe he has forgiven him, just not forgotten.

Alastair recoils as if Call has hit him, and Call hates himself so damn much, but not enough to take it back (as if he could take it back).

"Never again." His father says. "I'll never do something like this again. I was wrong, I wasn't thinking straight."

Something burns in Call's throat, but he does his best to swallow it down. He's not going to cry. He refuses to. He hates feeling like a kid who wants nothing more than to run to his father's arms.

And then he throws that thought to the wind and hugs his father anyway. The part of his mind that feels ashamed for that can take a hike.

Alastair, in his shock, takes a couple of seconds to hug him back, but when he does, it's tight.

~x~

The animals of the forest, previously busy with their own nocturnal habits, quieten when the first drop reaches its mark. Many of them turn tail and flee.

~x~

"Anything new?" Call asks, hopefully.

He's at Master Rufus' office again. It's been two weeks since May showed up, and Call feels like he should have more answers than he currently has, but none has been able to explain his situation to him so far. His visits to the Magisterium's library just rendered generic or shallow information only fit to satisfy historical curiosity.

"I'm afraid not, Call." Master Rufus says. "We've analyzed the texts at hand, and have requested that tomes from other Magisterium's be borrowed, but nothing of substance has been found."

Call deflates. "So everything remains a big question."

"Yes," Master Rufus concedes. "But I would say it's a question that provides answers to other things."

"Such as?" Call asks.

"Like why you have better control of your magic than Aaron and Tamara. After all, the magic of the witches of old was known for being more condensed than a mage's. It also explains why you are more powerful than a boy your age should be."

"I am not!" Call says, very decidedly. He's always been average at best; he thinks he'd know if he were better than his classmates at something.

Master Rufus gives him a look, then says, very softly, "Regular twelve-year-olds aren't powerful enough to keep a flame burning underwater, Call."

Call raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. "That was accidental. I wasn't in control of anything."

"Yes, you were. If you hadn't been in control of the flame, it wouldn't have stayed put in the bottom of the bowl, it would have spread until the entire bowl were on fire, and it would have kept on spreading."

Fire wants to burn flashes through Call's mind, and he stops to try and assimilate the information he's been given. It feels stupid that he's never thought about it like this before, and he wonders what other things he let slide because he simply didn't think about them with a little more care.

"There were discussions, of course." Master Rufus continues. "About whether your curriculum should be changed."

"What?" Call asks, snapping out of his reverie.

"You've been learning the same things as every other student here, except for the makar lessons, obviously. But there came the question if you should be taught the old rites as well, since it is what is more adequate for your magic."

Call stares at him with wide eyes.

"That was quickly discarded though, because, as you can probably guess, there isn't anyone alive who could actually be your teacher in that way. The only knowledge we can offer you is theoretical at best."

Call relaxes. For a moment there, he had been worried they'd try to transfer him somewhere else.

"So nothing's changed?" He asks.

"I wouldn't say that. The masters here at the Magisterium concurred with the ones at the Collegium that you should be allowed access to the old texts that are kept in private records. However," Master Rufus looks at him seriously. "That is not something to be taken lightly. It's a great responsibility. You will not be allowed to take the texts home, or to touch them without proper gloves, and a Master will be with you in the room to supervise."

Call whistles lowly. This would come in handy, even if he doesn't feel at all excited about the amount of extra studying that he's gonna have to do. And of course, there's also the fact that he's actually scared of even breathing anywhere near these documents.

Master Rufus clears his throat. "There is something else."

Call freezes. "What now?"

"You had no idea of the type of magic you had. Your father did not have any idea either. But," Master Rufus' expression closes off. "Maybe someone did know."

"Who?" Call asks, surprised.

"Whoever is trying to kill you. It has already been brought up. We were asking ourselves why someone would single you out, instead of trying to kill both you and Aaron. Maybe we were taking the wrong approach. Maybe it doesn't have to do with being a makar at all, but with this."

Call swallows dry. "Maybe."

Maybe the killer wants him dead for his old magic. Maybe Constantine did something to cause this. Maybe it's something else for both cases. Maybe things will crash and burn. Maybe he'll be okay. That's all his life seems to be nowadays; a big succession of maybes.

~x~

The boy closes his eyes and murmurs something. Simple, instinctual, old words that have a very specific purpose. They haven't been uttered in a long time.

~x~

When he gets back from Master Rufus' office, it's late and he's tired, so he says good-night to Aaron and Tamara and makes for his bedroom, but Mayhem is blocking the way.

"May?" He asks, but she's not paying attention to him. She's pacing in front of his door, hackles raised.

Call takes an experimental step forward, and her tail thumps the ground as if in warning. Still, she's not looking at him; whatever's beyond his door has her full interest. She hisses at the door, the sound shriller and way scarier than a cat's should be.

"What's going on?" Tamara whispers, coming up behind him.

"Someone go get Master Rufus." Call says.

"What?" Aaron asks, wide-eyed.

"There's something in my bedroom."

~x~

The air shifts as the barrier between worlds becomes thinner. The few animals that hadn't run away yet do so now.

~x~

An air elemental. One of the great ones that should, for all intents and purposes, be locked down in the lower levels of the Magisterium. Just like Automotones.

"They got through Anastasia's defenses." Call says, to no one in particular.

Master Rufus, standing beside Call, nods grimly. "And they got into your bedroom, despite not having a matching bracelet." He sighs. "You'll have to be transferred to new chambers, and the security measures will have to be even more fortified."

Call hunches his shoulders. "I like these chambers."

"Safety first, Call."

"The Magisterium's idea of safety isn't working." He snaps before he can stop himself. "If it weren't for May, I'd have gotten inside with that thing there."

"I know."

Call's hands form fists at his sides. "That settles it, then. That chandelier was meant for me, not me and Aaron."

"I'm afraid so."

"But if it's the same person who set Automotones on us, does that mean that they were out to get me as far back as Copper Year? I didn't even know I was a makar back then."

Master Rufus takes a deep breath. He seems weary and stressed, almost as much as Call. "That would support the theory that they want you dead because of your different magical core."

"How did they even know?" Call asks, even though it's a useless question. He shakes his head, frustrated. And then he says, as an afterthought "You're gonna have to tell my dad."

Master Rufus startles. "What?"

"My dad." Call repeats. "You need to call him and tell him what happened. He's gonna find out either way."

"Isn't it better if you're the one to tell him?"

"I can talk to him later."

"I don't think Alastair wants anything to do with me, Call." Master Rufus says, voice low and unlike him.

"That's exactly why it's better if he hears the news from you. Technically, you're responsible for me while I'm at the Magisterium; if someone tries to kill me and you don't tell him personally, it's gonna make him angrier. It's gonna seem as if you're more worried about hiding from him."

Master Rufus goes very stiff. "That is not – "

"I know it's not, but he doesn't." He looks at Master Rufus. "You two are important to me, and I know you're important to each other too. It sucks that you don't see eye to eye anymore, but you're not going anywhere if you don't sit down and talk." He says, then turns around and walks away.

A part of him wonders why he's saying all these things now, after he's already spent years pushing them aside. Perhaps it's just the timing; perhaps he's just focusing on this because he feels it's something he can fix, while everything else seems out of his reach. And perhaps he should have had more tact, but he's just too angry at the world in general to care.

~x~

Something comes forward, answering his summons.

~x~

"Thank God you're okay, Call." Celia says. "We were so worried when we heard."

"Thanks, but there was no need to worry." He says, taking a bite of mushroom. "May didn't even let me go near the door."

"We had to change chambers though." Aaron says.

Call frowns. "Yeah, I'm really upset about that."

"You think May would have attacked the elemental if she'd had the chance?" Gwenda asks.

"Absolutely. But don't worry; she won't attack any of you unless you are trying to harm me."

Or unless I tell her to. But Call figures that wouldn't be a good thing to say.

"You better be right. I don't wanna throw hands with a demon cat." Jasper says.

"She might not be a demon." Aaron replies.

"And if she is, she's not a demon cat. She's a cat-shaped demon." Tamara points out.

"And I feel like I should add, you wouldn't throw hands with her. She'd claw your eyes out before you even knew what was going on." Call pipes in.

"Tell me you're joking." Jasper says.

"I am." He admits. "I don't actually know what she would do if push came to shove, but it would be ugly." He gives Jasper a look. "Let's not find out."

Jasper gulps and nods.

To tell the truth, Call is not really worried about him. He doesn't think Jasper is the killer, and he knows May likes him and most likely wouldn't attack him unless given one hell of a good reason, but he wants the people sitting on the nearby tables to get the message and spread it.

He doesn't want people to fear May, but there's a killer after him, and he figures they are less likely to try something if they are at least a little bit afraid.

~x~

They are not a cat, though they're currently shaped as one. They look at the boy with shining yellow eyes, satisfied that they've been called forth at last.

~x~

Call isn't there for Master Rufus' conversation with Alastair, because he thinks they need to be alone for that, but he drops by later, to talk to his father himself. Master Rufus leaves the room very quickly, so Call assumes the talk didn't go well at all.

"How are you, dad?" He asks through the tornado-phone-thingy.

"How am I? I have half a mind to storm into the Magisterium to get you and hide you away in Siberia." Alastair says, looking furious.

Call winces. "I'm fine. May protected me."

Alastair scrubs a hand over his face. "I know, and I'm very thankful to her, but that doesn't change the fact that you could have died."

"I could die in Siberia too, dad. There's someone after me, and for all I know they might follow me if I leave. Not to mention…you know."

Master Joseph.

Alastair takes a deep breath. He looks as if he's counting to ten. Call stays silent, and he says: "Did you have anything to do with Master Rufus calling me?"

Call nods.

"Call, I know you're just trying to help, but –"

"Can I ask you something?"

Alastair stops. "Sure?"

"Were you gonna raise me as a mage, if things were different?"

If I were not Constantine. If I were not me.

Alastair goes very still. He looks baffled. "Yes," He says, cautiously. "I was."

"And would you have been happy if Master Rufus had picked me?"

"Yes."

Call cocks his head at him. "Then I assume you're not really angry at him for something that happened during the war, or before it." He frowns. "Why are you angry at him?"

Alastair deflates. He doesn't say anything.

Call keeps waiting for an answer.

"There were…minor things that happened. When I think about it, they wouldn't have mattered much in the long run, but after I came back home with you, I was so angry, and afraid. I kept thinking about all the mistakes that had been made, going over them again and again. The brunt of my anger was towards the Assembly in general. The Magisterium, in cases. I guess Master Rufus got thrown in by default."

"Do you think you might blame him for Constantine?"

"For how he ended up?"

"Yeah."

Alastair thinks about it. "Mostly, I blamed Master Joseph and Constantine himself. But I know I blamed myself as well, for not noticing, so it would make sense if I blamed Master Rufus too, even if unconsciously."

"Are you gonna do anything about it?"

"I think it's much too late to try and do anything about it."

"No." Call says. "There are things that it's too late to fix. This is not one of them. Not if you don't let it be."

~x~

They've been patient. They've been waiting for many, many years, ever since the boy actually was young.

~x~

"Is it true you're going to Europe, Call?" Celia asks as soon as Call approaches his usual table for lunch.

Call almost drops the tray. "What?"

Gwenda snorts. "Told you it was just a rumor."

"Who's saying Call's going to Europe?" Tamara asks.

"Well, I heard from a Silver year, who heard it from her friend, who heard it from a Golden Year, that there has been talk of some Magisterium in Europe that would like to have Call as a student."

Call raises an eyebrow. "That's the first I'm hearing of this."

"It might still be true though." Tamara says, looking contemplative. "It has merit that some of the older Magisterium would want to have someone like you as a student."

"I'd rather stay, thank you very much. I like it here, and I'm not in the mood to be makar-hunted through Europe."

"They'd probably make an exception for you." Kai says. "And it's not every single country in Europe that hates makaris, just the ones that suffered the most with the power-crazed ones."

"That's true." Celia says. "I'm pretty sure Portugal and Denmark, at least, don't have anything against them. And I think Bulgaria as well, but I'm not sure."

"Might want to steer clear from England and France though, these were the ones that suffered the most." Gwenda pipes in. "I heard the Czech Republic had one called Ludimila of Prague, and she was so crazy she tried to fight a giant elemental squid once."

"Well maybe the squid was being a dick." Call mutters.

Aaron blinks at him. "Why are you defending her?"

Call blinks back. "I don't even know."

"What's up?" Jasper says, sitting down.

"Call's not going to Europe." Celia says.

"Pity."

Call hits him in the shoulder.

"What about Siberia?" Rafe asks.

And Call freezes.

"What did you say?" He asks, praying that he heard wrong.

"I've heard talk that you and your father were going to Siberia."

"Who told you that?" Call asks, all humor gone from his voice. May jumps from the ground to his lap, suddenly focused. Gwenda and Jasper exchange worried glances.

Rafe frowns, apparently oblivious to the change in mood. "Some kids from Copper Year heard a couple of elementals say something about it. Why?"

"What's the problem, Call?" Aaron asks.

"The problem," Call seethes, throwing his fork on the table and standing up. "Is that I can't say anything, even in a private chamber, without someone eavesdropping." He turns around and leaves, Aaron and Tamara hot on his heels.

~x~

They move towards the boy, who drops down on one knee to scratch them behind the ears.

~x~

Call wakes in the night to the sound of a horrible scream, made even more so by the abruptness with which it cuts itself off. He bolts from the bed, grabbing Miri from his bedside table, only to drop it when he takes in the scene in front of him.

Alex Strike lies on the ground, throat and chest slashed open, eyes glassy, Alkahest in hand. May stands over him, teeth bared and looking way too sharp for a cat's. Her claws, too, seem bigger than they should; her shadow on the wall keeps changing shape, as if it has better things to worry about then looking normal.

Distantly, he can hear Aaron and Tamara banging frantically on his door, but he can't bring himself to open it. He can't do much more than stand in place and stare.

By the time Aaron sends the door to the void, Alex's body is more than cold.

~x~

When his hand touches the fur though, images flash through his mind, and he screams.

~x~

"He was my friend." Call whispers, looking at a blank spot on the common room's wall. It feels like he's been staring at that spot for a long time, but he doesn't know for sure. Ever since the masters came and took Alex's body away, at last; after Call gave a statement he doesn't remember a word of.

Aaron is giving his own statement, even though he didn't really see anything. Tamara is sitting beside him on the couch, slouched over and a little dazed, looking as lost as he. She shakes her head, and it looks as if it takes a lot out of her to do so. "He was not."

"Why did he try to get me like that anyway? Didn't he realize that May would be in the room with me?"

"I don't know." Tamara says, tonelessly.

Call thinks of his first months in the Magisterium; how Alex was the first person who truly made him feel welcome, hung out with him, was there for him when all the others still thought he was a crazy weirdo. He thinks of how he always made an effort to include Call in everything; actively sought him out in a crowd. He thinks of Alex lying there on his bedroom's floor, dead and bloody and a liar.

He buries his face in Tamara's shoulder and cries. She cries too, but neither of them is mourning Alex. They are mourning someone who never really existed at all.

When Aaron comes back, he hugs them both for a long time.

~x~

Things he'd locked away burst to the surface, bright and awful.

~x~

Everyone took the news of Alex being the spy hard, but Master Rufus seems to have taken it the hardest.

Call goes to him a few days afterwards, because he saw his face when he came in to see Alex's body on the floor, and he's seen his face every day after that, and it looks far too much like guilt for his liking.

"It's not your fault." He says. "He fooled everyone."

Master Rufus smiles sadly. "And yet, I feel like I should have noticed it anyway. The clues were all there."

"Alex wasn't like Drew." Call insists, ignoring the stab of pain he feels at saying both names. "Everyone knew his family; he was a model student, and one of the nicest people I knew." Too picture perfect. I should have known something was off.

"And with a stepmother in charge of guarding the elementals, it would be easy for him to find an excuse to go to the lower levels." Master Rufus continues, drily. "And as my assistant, he had access to your chambers. God, when I think that he had the potential –"

"He had the potential to be great. But he chose to side with Master Joseph instead." Call says. Except Master Joseph doesn't want me dead. So why? "We had no reason to believe he might be a spy, but he was, and you can't blame yourself for that." I can't blame myself for that. Why is it so easy to say this to Master Rufus and believe it, but not believe it when it comes to me?

"I understand what you're saying, Call." Master Rufus sighs. "But it's like you told me when we talked about your father: while you are here, your safety is my responsibility, and though you may be safe now, it's no thanks to me or any of the other masters. I feel like I failed you. The way I failed…"

"Making a list of names will kill you." Making evil overlord lists will kill me.

Master Rufus startles at the intensity in his voice, but Call doesn't waver.

"Sometimes," Master Rufus says. "You sound like you're so much older, Call. And you act that way too. Some of the things you've said to me in the last few months," He shakes his head. "I can't believe someone your age has said them."

Call swallows the bout of panic in his throat and says: "I hope that convinces you to listen, then."

~x~

The memories weight like lead on the boy's shoulders, and the cat that is not a cat realizes that their witch is not ready to know them yet.

~x~

A week later, Call and Aaron take a turn on their way to the mess hall and end up bumping into Kimiya. Call hunches his shoulders when he sees the look on her face, bracing himself for something that is not gonna be pretty.

"You." Kimiya spits out, taking a step forward. "Your cat from hell killed him!"

Call opens his mouth to retort, but Aaron beats him to it, stepping in front of Call and getting between him and Kimiya.

"No," He snarls, because Aaron sucks at taking care of himself, but anyone who threatens Call or Tamara better hide. "Your boyfriend from hell got himself killed trying to kill Call, and let this be a warning to anyone else stupid enough to try."

From Call's book bag, May pops her head out and meows as if in agreement, looking at Kimiya with her eerie yellow eyes.

Kimiya balks and runs. Call just stands there, staring bewildered as Aaron turns with a satisfied smile on his face and scratches May behind her ears.

His heart skips a beat. It's the first time anyone who isn't Call touches her.

"What." He manages to say.

Aaron frowns. "What?"

"I thought you didn't like May." He looks down at Aaron's hand that is definitely still scratching her. "You said that she was a terrifying thing. I distinctly remember you saying that."

"I did say that." Aaron agrees. "But she's a terrifying thing that protects you from would be murderers, so I like her now."

And well, who's Call to argue with that logic?

~x~

Their eyes glow for the briefest of moments; the boy suddenly stops screaming, and what had been locked away is back to being so. It doesn't matter. Right now, it's enough that their witch has summoned them.

~x~

That night, Call ends up turning round and round on his bed instead of catching any rest, so he decides to try his luck somewhere else.

He grabs his pillow and blanket, making way for the common room. He's just laid down on one of the sofas when he hears a familiar voice:

"Call?"

He raises his head and sees Aaron staring at him from the kitchen; face barely illuminated by a wall crystal he's just lit up.

"Yes?"

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to sleep." He says, even though he knows exactly what Aaron means.

"On the sofa?"

Anywhere, as long as it's not the place where someone tried to kill me and I think I can still see a little bit of his blood on the floor. Call doesn't say, but he hopes Aaron gets it anyway.

It seems he does, because he glances at Call's bedroom door and sighs, putting something (a glass of water?) on the kitchen table and sitting on the sofa.

Aaron looks around, probably trying to find May. She's hiding somewhere, but Call knows she's in the room. If he concentrated enough, he could probably tell where.

"It's okay, Aaron. You can go back to your bed." He says.

Aaron turns his head to him, and Call can't see his expression in the dark but he imagines he's making a face.

"It's not okay…"

Tamara's door opens.

"Boys?" She asks. Her voice sounds alarmed.

"Yeah." Call says and she turns the other crystal lights on, relaxing when she takes them in and sees that they seem to be fine. With a start, he realizes that she probably heard voices and mistook them for more people come to kill him.

"What's going on?"

"I think we should ask to change chambers again." Aaron says, before Call can get a word in.

"Hey!" He hisses, but Aaron just looks at him with such intensity that he turns away.

"It's fine, Tamara." Call says. "We don't have to change chambers again because of me."

"It wouldn't be a problem at all, Call." She says, sitting on the other sofa. "I'm sure Master Rufus would understand."

"It's not that I think he'd complain, it's just that, you know, it sounds stupid."

"Stupid?" Tamara asks, surprised. "Call, you could have died in there."

"Yeah, but…"

"In your sleep, in a place that you considered safe." She stresses. "There's absolutely nothing wrong with not wanting to sleep there anymore. It's not stupid, and it doesn't make you weak."

The back of Call's throat burns. He nods, feeling something warm in his chest.

"We'll talk to Master Rufus in the morning. We might even be able to go back to our original chamber." Aaron says, holding his shoulder gently. "Tonight, you can sleep on my bed. I'll sleep here."

"Nope."

"Call."

"I'm not kicking you out of your own bed, Aaron."

"And I'm not letting you sleep on the sofa. It's not comfortable. Your leg is gonna hurt tomorrow."

"Oh dear, I guess you'll have to share then." Tamara says, to which Aaron splutters.

"Share?" Call says. "I guess, if the bed is big enough – Oh my God Aaron, why are you so red? Do you have a fever?"

"Yeah, Aaron, something the matter?" Tamara asks, looking strangely gleeful.

"I'm fine." Aaron says in a squeaky, high-pitched voice.

"Sounds fake, but okay." Call says, raising an eyebrow.

"Let's just go to bed!" Aaron exclaims, suddenly standing up and heading for his bedroom, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like "I'll get her for this."

Call blinks, says good-night to Tamara, and follows.

~x~

Now that they're by his side, they will protect him.

~x~

Alex's murder is filed as self-defense. According to Tamara, Anastasia Tarquin could have issued an appeal, but she never did.

Call hasn't seen her since way before Alex's death, when she'd looked at May with cautiousness and confusion. She's on probation now, and not likely to be allowed anywhere near him, but he would have liked to talk to her, if only to look her in the eye and try to decide if she knew what her stepson had been up to.

~x~

They will be his ever watchful companion.

~x~

"Why is everyone in this school incapable of minding their own business?" Call asks, acidly.

They are on their way from dinner, and Call swears that if one more person looks at him with pity, accuses him of being a murderer, or congratulates him for getting rid of that traitor, Call is gonna send everyone to the void.

"Don't pay attention to them, Call." Tamara says. "It's not worth it."

"Funny, I heard you yelled yourself hoarse at Kimiya yesterday." Aaron says, looking very pleased about that.

"Well, yeah." Tamara admits. "But I can't yell at every student here who does or says something stupid."

"They're getting on my last nerve." Call says, feeling the anger like a physical thing, condensed in his chest and ready to explode. His temples are throbbing; there's a killer headache on its way. "They should all just get chicken pox and leave me alone."

Aaron gently bumps his shoulder. "Hey, don't be like that. How about we go to our chambers and eat sweets till we drop?"

"You got sweets?"

"Snuck them out of the Gallery." Aaron says, looking a little timid. "I got that one that you like, with the chocolate icing."

Call can't help the fond look he sends him. Aaron ducks his head, face red.

Tamara laughs. "Now you're talking."

~x~

They will guard his secrets, until the boy himself is ready to guard them.

~x~

The next day, Call is just leaving for breakfast when Tamara and Aaron casually-not-so-casually block his way.

He tries to go ahead, but they step in front of him. He narrows his eyes at them. Tamara is nervous, and Aaron is a little pale.

"What's wrong?" He asks, already feeling dread building up in his stomach.

Tamara fidgets with her hands. "The important thing is, we know you didn't really mean for it to happen, okay? We aren't blaming you."

"Tamara…" Call says in a warning tone.

"There's been an outbreak of chicken pox overnight." Aaron blurts out.

"Aaron!" Tamara hisses.

For a moment, Call just blinks at them without understanding, but then realization hits him like a freight train and he feels his own face drain of color.

Later, he spends the entire night thinking of his younger years, trying to think of any similar situations; trying to remember if something weird had happened to someone after he'd wished it so, something small enough or surreal enough that he'd considered it a coincidence.

To his horror, quite a lot come to mind.

~x~

The boy gathers his familiar in his arms and goes back the way he came, the forest life going back to normal as he leaves.

~x~

It's a Saturday, which means no classes, which means that Call has all the time in the world to sit down at the library and begin studying all the things he had been pushing aside.

"Why the hurry?" Tamara asks, trying to keep up with him.

"I need to study as much as I can." Call says, straining because of his leg. "I need to understand my magic better, so something like this doesn't happen again. I shouldn't have put it off for so long in the first place."

"They're gonna be fine, Call." Aaron says, coming up on his other side. "I mean, they're gonna miss some classes, but –"

"And what if I hadn't said get chicken pox?" Call asks. "What if I had said jump of a cliff instead?"

Aaron pales.

"Oooohhh, the witch is in a hurry?" A voice says from somewhere above.

Call stops so fast he almost topples over. He knows that voice.

"Warren!" He yells, looking the ceiling up and down, in vain.

"In here, little witch!" Warren says, but Call still can't see him. May's ears perk up, attentive; her tail swishes from one side to another as she crouches. "Warren sees you are alive. Warren helped with that. Yes, Warren did."

"What is he talking about?" Aaron asks.

Call's eyes narrow. "I don't know."

Suddenly, May sprints to the left, through a winding corridor. Call doesn't waste any time in following her, even with Aaron and Tamara yelling at him to come back.

He doesn't run for long, only two minutes at the most, stopping in an open chamber with a ceiling so high he almost can't see it, and crystals that shine like amethysts encrusted on the walls. For a moment, May just stands there, listening, but then she leaps with incredible speed and Call hears Warren scream.

"Aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh! Bad cat! Bad cat!

They fall to the ground in a blur, Warren contorting himself while May keeps her teeth firmly sunk on his back.

"Bad cat trying to kill Warren!"

"No, she's not." Call says, breathing with difficulty due to the run. "If she were, she'd have gone for your throat."

Aaron and Tamara finally catch up to him, but Call is already walking forward, kneeling before May and Warren.

"Tell me what you meant when you said that you helped."

"Tell cat to let Warren go!"

"No." Call says watching as Warren tries to burn May with his flames, but she doesn't even flinch. "Tell me, and then you can go."

"Air mage asked Warren to spy on witch." Warren says, when it becomes clear that he won't be able to free himself. "Air mage wanted to kill witch, but Warren lied to him. Warren said that cat doesn't sleep with witch, and that he has to attack in the night."

Oh, Call thinks. That explains it.

Aaron kneels down beside him. "Why would you help Call?" He asks.

"Witch saved Warren from the void, so Warren helped witch. Warren can be grateful."

Call raises an eyebrow. "Can you? Or did you just not want to owe me something?"

"Warren wants to go now. Witch said that I could."

Call sighs. "Let him go, May."

May does, and Warren scurries away almost too fast for Call to see.

"Well," Tamara says. "That was…why is it getting so warm in here?"

Before her words can sound alarm bells in Call's mind, a wall of fire blocks the exit, the flames expanding into a circle and reflecting off the amethysts.

"Hello, children. It's been a while."

Aaron stands in a hurry, pulling Call with him. Tamara grabs onto one of his arms as Call watches the dancing flames take the form of a man; an image they've seen before.

"Marcus." Tamara whispers, horrified.

"Why the surprise?" The Devoured says. "Surely, you didn't think you'd never see me again?"

"Get back!" Aaron barks, but Marcus only laughs.

"And why should I?"

Call looks him in the eye. "Mind the cat." He says, just as May puts herself between Marcus and him, steady and sure, not even the slightest bit worried.

Marcus smiles. "Ah, yes. An interesting development, isn't she?"

"But you're such a great seer," Call says, sarcastic. "Didn't you see her coming?"

"Some things are set in stone, Callum Hunt. Some aren't. And the details always differ. Possibility," Marcus says. "Is what makes it interesting."

"Sounds like a bunch of crap."

"Ah, but I was right, wasn't I? When I talked to you last."

"You said one of us would fail, one of us would die, and one was already dead. So far, only one third of that was true."

Marcus shakes his finger in a patronizing manner. "Alex Strike tried to kill you, only to be killed instead. That takes care of the other two thirds, don't you think?"

"Alex wasn't there when you said that." Aaron retorts.

"Was he not? Or is it simply that you didn't see him? He was a good spy, that boy; he was many places he shouldn't be, heard many things he shouldn't have, without anybody catching him."

Call's conviction falters, just a little. "You're making that up."

Marcus seems to be having a lot of fun with them. "Little witch, I don't need to convince you. I know what I said was right. The boy failed, and he died. And you," He hums. "You were already dead, like you've come to realize; but there is much you still don't know about the past."

Call grits his teeth. "I don't need you to tell me about Constantine Madden. I don't want any kind of help from you."

Marcus cackles. "Constantine Madden," He smiles. "He was just a chapter in history; a chapter in you history, nonetheless. That poor boy, snuffed out like a candle, as so many before him."

"What?" Call asks, feeling his heart beat a drum in his chest. May growls at Marcus, a warning; for what, he doesn't know, but the Devoured ignores her.

"You cast a long shadow, Callum Hunt. You've died way too many times, though this time you have a familiar, so perhaps you will be less lonely." Marcus says, his voice slowly dying out as his features blur into the fire, little by little, till they disappear completely.

And just like that, the fire goes out as if it were never there at all, leaving Call with two stunned friends, bleeding knuckles from punching a crystal, and frustration building in his throat.

I will get answers, he swears to himself. Even if it kills me.

~x~

It starts with a summoning, but the boy doesn't remember. It will be a while before he does.

A/N: Also known as the fic where Call says that he's fine 1000 times.

Fun fact: This WIP's title was "Tiny Angry Kitten" and I am ridiculously attached to it.

This might or might not get a sequel. I think it is able to stand on it's own, considering that, if you've read The Golden Tower, then you know why Call's magic is old, but I have some ideas for scenes that might end up becoming another fic in the long run.

Thank you very much for reading! You can find me on tumblr as agarotado27dejunho, be it to discuss anything Magisterium related or just say "Hi!"

And please, respect the quarantine. Don't leave your house unless absolutely necessary. Stay safe!