by B. B. Alston
“So none of ye are any good at heeding warnings?” asks Agent Fiona.
No one dares to answer.
“Well, don’t go losing your nerve now,” she says pacing back and forth in front of us. “If ye can’t find your voice in front of me, what chance do ye have against a forest of tree zombies closing in for a bite? Or a score of stone-skinned gargoyles circling above ye with ill intentions?”
“I’m sure you’ll see to it we’re ready for whatever comes our way,” says Lara Van Helsing, stepping forward from the line. “And I, for one, am ready for the challenge.”
Ugh. Lara is so full of herself.
Agent Fiona stalks over, stopping directly in front of her. She towers over Lara, sizing the girl up. “You’ve got the look of a lass who’s hunting glory, little Van Helsing. And trust me, there’s a good bit of glory to be found as an agent. But there’s no surer way to fail at this than to go seeking it out. You’d do well to remember that. Ye all would.”
I’m enjoying the embarrassed look on Lara’s face when those blue eyes find me. My heart skips a beat.
“Peters,” Agent Fiona calls out. “Step forward.”
And here I was hoping to stay invisible today. But I do as I’m told.
The way I feel as Agent Fiona approaches me is how gazelles must feel when a lion shows up. She puts her face really close to mine, staring into my eyes. It’s completely different from how she looked at me yesterday and it’s all I can do just to stand my ground. Did I do something to make her mad?
“I suppose ye think you’re special with your fancy badge. Better than the rest of us?”
I shake my head. “No, I—”
“No?” says Agent Fiona. “Then can ye tell me what on earth made ye put down Junior Agent when ye ain’t got a supernatural ability to speak of?”
“I do have a supernatural ability,” I say. “It’s just . . . illegal.”
“Same difference in the end,” says Agent Fiona. “When a werewolf’s got ye by the throat, ye can be sure he won’t be giving ye the courtesy of a time-out to let ye work out if it’s okay to use your illusions or not. So, tell me, why are ye here?”
Agent Fiona read my intentions yesterday, so there’s no point in lying. “T-to f-find my brother.” I hate how shaky my voice sounds.
“So ye don’t want to be an agent to help others—only yourself. That right?”
“I . . .”
“And if I said you’re wasting your time? That in all my years of training agents I’ve never seen a worse prospect?”
A few kids snicker at that. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Lara clap a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing out loud. Agent Fiona might as well have punched me right in the gut. It’s the same as always, somebody looks at me and thinks that I’m not good enough. I drop my head.
“Nothing to say, lass?”
Maybe I’m not Quinton, but I bet I could be a decent agent if I decided to be. I’m tired of being underestimated. “You’re wrong about me,” I squeak out.
“What’s that?” she says.
“I said you’re wrong about me. I can be an agent.”
“So ye mean to prove me wrong, then?”
“I will prove you wrong.”
“That so? Well it ain’t just me doubtin’ ye.” Agent Fiona points to the row of kids behind me. “They doubt ye too. Same goes for all the higher-ups who were so eager to tell me to turn ye away. What have ye got to say to that?”
“I don’t care. I will be an agent.”
The Red Lady’s expression softens so that she looks more like the woman who fought for me yesterday. She lowers her voice so that only I can hear her. “Keep that wildfire burnin’ inside ye, lass. And let all of their doubts become kerosene. Because ye know what I see when a lass is maligned for something she can’t help and yet she still shows up anyway?”
I shake my head.
“Courage,” says Agent Fiona. “And that’s what separates the wannabes from the agents in the end. Quinton didn’t nominate ye ’cause he needed a rescuer, he nominated ye because he believed ye can thrive here. Only you’ve gotta believe it before anybody else will.” She leans back and unclips my moonstone badge from beneath my lapel to place it back in its original spot. “Now, back in line with ye.”
I glance at the other trainees as I step backward. A couple look back at me with hesitant smiles, but most everyone else looks wary or even mad. It doesn’t matter. Agent Fiona is right about one thing—I can be brave. I have to be.
Agent Fiona cracks a wicked smile and opens her arms wide. “Welcome to Junior Agent tryouts. Of all the trainees who wrote down Junior Agent on their cards, the thirty-two of ye are considered the cream of the crop. Those fancy badges ye carry signify you’ve got plenty of potential, but you’ve already come as far as those’ll take ye. For the privilege of wearing this suit you’ll have to prove your worth in the tryouts. Now then, the name’s Senior Agent Melanie Fiona and, as ye may have gathered, I’m the one in charge of training and tryouts. There’ll be three tryouts in all, designed to evaluate whether or not you’re cut out for this. Simple enough. Any questions?”
“Can you really tell a person’s intentions just by looking at them?” asks a red-faced boy with a gulp.
“Aye . . . Billy Pogo,” answers the Red Lady, reading his name tag. “It’s my supernatural ability. And plenty useful when it comes to interrogating baddies.” Her eyes flash. “Right now it’s telling me ye can’t wait to get this tour over with so ye can get back to that slice of sweet potato pie ye got stashed back in your room.”
“You’re amazing,” says Billy, wide-eyed.
Agent Fiona gives him a wink. “Don’t I know it.”
“Could you give us a clue about what these tryouts are?” This is from Dylan Van Helsing.
“Not a chance!” The Red Lady laughs. “Ye should know better than most that these things are very well-kept secrets. And even if I did tell ye, who’s to say I won’t change me mind later?”
“Is there anything you can tell us?” I ask nervously.
“Three things,” Agent Fiona replies. “For starters, while it’s true we’ll be training ye before and between the tryouts, your ability to pass won’t just be a matter of how well ye learn. You’ll need to have the right stuff already inside ye—the kinds of traits ye can’t teach.
“Second,” she continues, “the last tryout is called the finale. It’s a culmination of all the training you’ve received. Comes in three parts. An exam on supernatural facts. A display of technique while dueling with Sky Sprints and Stun Sticks, and finally a demonstration of your supernatural ability. Don’t expect ye to be masters, but you’ll need to have gained some level of control over what ye can do. Peters, we’re still debating what you’ll do if ye make it that far.”
“And the third thing?” blurts a very anxious-looking girl.
“Aye,” answers Agent Fiona with a smirk. “First tryout comes this Friday. Meaning it’ll be a short summer for a lot of ye.”
The announcement sends the lobby into a commotion. Friday is less than a week away.
“I know there were eight spots last year,” says Dylan Van Helsing. “How many spots are available this time?” The lobby quiets, waiting for an answer.
Agent Fiona frowns. “We had a few older agents who were set to retire but decided to putter on for another year. Means we can only offer four spots this summer.”
If there was a commotion before, this sends the group into an all-out panic. I feel it too. Am I really capable of beating out twenty-eight other kids?
Agent Fiona raises her hands and the lobby goes silent. “Quit your whining and carrying on. Ye all knew this was the most competitive specialty.” She grabs a short stack of paper from behind the Van Helsing statue. “Now then, let’s get these schedules handed out.”
I’m the first to get one, so I take a quick look.
JUNIOR AGENT TRAINEE
SUMMER CAMP SCHEDULE
Week 1
>
–Supernatural Investigations Tour
–Supernatural Knowledge Exam
–Intro to Sky Sprints
–Supernatural Immersion
FIRST TRYOUT—Thirty-two trainees drop to sixteen!
• • •
Weeks 2 & 3
–Sky Sprints-Wallrunning & Aerial Maneuvers
–Supernatural Immersion
–Intro to Stun Sticks
–Supernatural Knowledge (Self-Study)
SECOND TRYOUT—Sixteen trainees drop to eight!
• • •
Week 4
-???
FINALE—Eight trainees drop to four Junior Agents!
• • •
Weeks 5–8
JUNIOR AGENT TRAINING BEGINS
If I manage to get through the first tryout, I’ll have two weeks to find out what happened to Quinton before I’ve got to prove myself again. But is that really enough time? It’ll have to be.
“Now that you’ve had a moment to review your schedules,” Agent Fiona calls out to the whole lobby, “let’s get ye all separated into tour groups. When I call your name, come and stand beside me. Peters, ye stay put.”
It’s just my luck that I get picked for the first tour group along with Dylan Van Helsing. Why does he even need a tour? He must’ve seen this place hundreds of times growing up.
Agent Fiona addresses my eight-person group. “You’re encouraged to ask questions while we tour the department, but more than anything you’ll need to keep out of the way. A lot of important business is being conducted that can’t be disturbed. Ready? Then follow me.”
When Agent Fiona punches a code for the door, it hits me that I’m about to walk the same halls, see the same sights, that Quinton did. The thought puts a warm feeling in my chest, but it also makes me miss him terribly.
The door slides open and Agent Fiona leads us into a wide hallway. It’s a fast-moving river of gray suits, SWAT team gear, and fatigues going in both directions across a black-and-white tiled floor. “This is the main hall,” calls Agent Fiona over the noise. “Leads from one end of the department to the other, making a giant U. Every area in the department can be reached from this hallway. If ye ever lose your way, simply seek out this hall to right yourself.”
We start up the left side of the U, keeping close to the wall to stay out of everyone’s way. I stare up at the various wanted posters and Agent of the Month plaques. Agent Fiona brings our group to a quick stop when agents come bustling through a doorway struggling to control a ten-foot tall furry creature in ripped blue jeans and a green Save the Trees T-shirt. It’s not making things easy at all for the agents, squirming and kicking its feet wildly as it howls, “I’m innocent. I swear! It was a Sasquatch, not me!”
Agent Fiona shakes her red tangles. “Again, Bigfoot? What’ve ye gone and done this time?”
The agents wrestle Bigfoot through another door on the opposite side of the hall. Agent Fiona tells us to stay put and follows them inside. Half a minute later she sticks her head back through the door and waves for us to follow.
“Line up just there and keep quiet,” says Agent Fiona once we’ve all crowded into the small room. Bigfoot is nowhere to be found. “I’ve asked to take over so I can give ye a glimpse at what we do here.”
A few minutes later, an angry little bearded man in a green suit is brought in. He looks like the grumpy uncle of the guy on the Lucky Charms box.
“Is that a real leprechaun?” I blurt out. I’ve really got to stop doing that.
The little man turns around. “Well, I ain’t a bloody fake, that’s for sure!”
Agent Fiona shoots me a look.
“Sorry,” I mouth.
Dylan Van Helsing chuckles beside me. “I asked the same question the first time I saw one. That leprechaun still sends me hate mail.”
I laugh but then quickly turn away from him. Maybe that’s rude, but I won’t forget what he said to me in front of his dad.
“Don’t be like that,” says Dylan. “Who do you think vouched for you with my father? I told him how Lara and her dumb friends were teasing you.”
Dylan is the witness Director Van Helsing was talking about? He’s the reason I wasn’t punished for my fire illusion? I turn back to face him. “This isn’t a joke to me, okay? You can’t be mean to me one second and then nice the next. I don’t know if I can trust you. Or anything you told me.”
Dylan goes quiet and I turn back to Agent Fiona.
“In a moment I’m gonna show ye five faces,” she says to the leprechaun. “Point out the one who took your pot of gold.”
He nods. “Gotcha.”
Agent Fiona gives the far wall a knock and it shifts into clear glass, revealing a strange group of people. Things? Creatures?
First is an actual bear. Beside it is what looks like a man in a cheap Chewbacca costume. Next to him is Bigfoot from the hallway. Then another bigfoot, only its fur is gray, and it’s dressed in a fancy red suit and sipping a cup of tea. At the end of the row is a person-sized ant in a trench coat.
An actual ant that’s taller than I am.
How did I never have any idea that all of these things exist?
“That’s him!” shouts the leprechaun. “Right there in the T-shirt and jeans!”
Agent Fiona gives the transparent wall three knocks and Bigfoot is led away grumbling. The other bigfoot, the gray one wearing the suit, just rolls his eyes and adjusts his monocle.
Agent Fiona is about to tell us something when the gray bigfoot steps into the room.
“Melanie, darling,” he exclaims. “When they told me it was you out here I simply had to come say hello.”
“Sorry to keep draggin’ ye down here every time your cousin gets out of line,” says Agent Fiona. “I know it’s a hassle.”
“Nonsense,” says the gray bigfoot with a wave of his hand. “Gives me a chance to try to talk some sense into him. Crime doesn’t pay and all that. Falls on deaf ears but, as they say, you can never give up on family—” He gasps as his eyes land on me. “As I live and breathe. Is that the Amari Peters?”
I wince as Agent Fiona says, “That’s her, all right.”
The gray bigfoot sweeps into an elaborate bow. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Sir Francis Sasquatch III of the Yellowstone National Park Sasquatches. Formally knighted in both Faerie Courts. An absolute pleasure to meet you. Sweetheart, you’re all anyone’s talking about.”
“Really?” I say.
“A magician at the Bureau? The gossip practically spills itself!”
What kind of gossip, I wonder.
“Well, I simply must be going, but if you’re ever in the market for a good cave hideout with reliable escape routes, or maybe even a nice underground lair off the beaten path, I’m the woodland real estate agent to the stars, honey. Think of me when you’re done playing at this Junior Agent business and looking to start your criminal empire in style. Good or evil, when it comes to clients I don’t pick sides. Here’s my card. Toodles.”
I take his notebook-sized business card and frown. A hideout? An underground lair? Is that what people think of me? That I’m destined to be the supernatural world’s next supervillain?
Agent Fiona leads us back into the main hallway. We follow it past the Briefing Auditorium to the tall wooden door protecting the Great Vault that Agent Fiona says is impenetrable. We end up at an area that’s glassed off, with people passing in and out of glass doors. “This is the Operations Bay,” says Agent Fiona. “The central hub where the Director and Assistant Director oversee the missions carried out by our agents around the globe. We have outposts on every continent.”
“Even Antarctica?” I ask.
“Especially Antarctica,” answers Agent Fiona. “One of the seven great beasts, the abominable snowman, has been hibernating there for nearly three centuries, and sedatives must be given on a monthly basis to ensure he continues his slumber. He ain’t called abominable for nothin’. Tell ye what, I’ll give ye all
a hint. Know your great beasts by heart. It’s a question that gets asked every year in the finale.”
Most of our group presses their faces against the glass to gaze into the huge space full of men and women sitting at long tables topped with computers. Massive screens cover the other three walls, making the Operations Bay look like a NASA control room. One screen has the words Helmet Cam written at the top and shows agents in gray suits raiding a haunted house. Zombies pour out of doorways and the agents keep slicing them to dust with burning swords. Another screen shows a smirking elderly man in a dusty rocking chair. This one is labeled Moreau Interrogation. That must be Moreau, the magician.
Like me.
“Is that really him?” Billy asks with a shudder. “Is it really Moreau?”
“It’s gotta be!” says Brian Li. “Who else is that creepy?”
“I just hope wherever he is,” comes another voice, “it’s far away from here.”
“Far?” says Dylan. “Heck, he’s right here in this building.”
Nearly the whole group gasps.
Agent Fiona puts both hands on her hips and presses her lips tight. “That’s not for ye to go around repeating.”
Dylan nudges me with his elbow and says, “Well, maybe if the Bureau were better at catching his apprentices, my sister wouldn’t still be missing.”
I watch for Agent Fiona’s reaction.
She sets her jaw. “One more word from ye, little Van Helsing, and I’ll throw ye right outta these tryouts. I don’t care who your father is. Understood?”
Dylan folds his arms but stays silent.
Agent Fiona might be upset, but she didn’t deny Dylan’s claim. Maybe he was telling the truth about the Bureau knowing who took my brother—Moreau’s apprentice.
Which means this is my chance to get some answers. But I can’t let her know what Dylan told me. That stuff is supposed to be classified. So I clear my throat and say, “Has Moreau said anything at all about Quinton and Maria’s disappearance?”
Agent Fiona sighs and shakes her head. “These talks are nothin’ more than a formality. We question him once a week and he refuses to answer a single question—says the Bureau is the enemy of all magicians.”
