by B. B. Alston
“He’ll also try to distract you with his illusions,” said Agent Magnus. “Remember, no matter what he claims, you’re completely safe. His magic can’t penetrate the enchanted glass that holds him.”
“It’s important to show confidence,” said Agent Fiona. “He’ll be able to sense if you’re scared. Ye won’t be alone down there—we’ll be keeping an eye on the whole thing through the security cameras.”
“That being said,” added Agent Magnus, “if at any point you do get scared and feel like you need to leave, you are free to do so, understand?”
“I do,” I said. “I won’t let you down.”
I put on the slippers and step into Lord Kensington alone, trying not to let my nerves show as the elevator doors shut and the adults wish me luck.
“Apologies for my earlier behavior,” says Lord Kensington. “Trainee or not, what you’re doing is very brave.”
“Thanks,” I say. “But I don’t feel very brave.” My knees feel wobbly just standing here.
Lord Kensington zips me down to a floor I’ve never seen before. It’s not even really a floor, just a solid wall of black metal.
“Could you tell me more about where I’m going?” I’m realizing I didn’t ask Magnus or Fiona nearly enough questions.
“There are a number of walled-off floors in the Bureau—typically quite dangerous or very secret places. Blackstone Prison is both. To earn a place there you must be found guilty of truly vile acts. All visitors must be approved by the Chief Director herself. Thus, I am the only way for you to enter. Are you ready?”
I try to stand a little taller. “Ready.”
“Now entering Blackstone Prison,” says Lord Kensington. “I’m afraid there’s a speed limit while traveling through here.”
As the elevator lurches forward, a gap in the metal wall slides open. Everything goes dark as we pass through the thick wall; the shimmer of my moonstone badge is the only light. My heartbeat booms in my ears.
And then we’re inside. Curious, I press my face against the glass.
Turns out, Blackstone Prison is just one long hallway with giant glass walls on both sides. The floor and ceiling are so black I’d think we were floating if I couldn’t see the metal rails that guide Lord Kensington through the center of the space.
The prison is like those indoor exhibits at the zoo, with long walls of glass cages, only a thousand times scarier. Scary creatures slither and skulk about; some scream constantly, while others have laughs so cold I can feel it in my bones. A pack of drooling beasts claws at the glass. Some things are so awful they’re kept in complete darkness. But their fiery eyes follow me down the hallway.
“There’s no harm in covering your eyes,” says Lord Kensington.
“Good idea,” I squeak out.
It feels like a whole hour passes before Lord Kensington finally says, “We’re here.”
Trembling, I open just one eye and glance around before opening the other. We’re in a different section of the prison now. There is only one glass cage here, and inside it is a gray-haired man in a rocking chair facing away from me.
“Find your courage,” says Lord Kensington. “You can do this.”
I take a slow deep breath. I can do this.
The doors open and it’s deathly quiet—the kind of quiet where you can hear yourself breathing. I take a shaky step onto the glossy black floor of the prison. It’s pitch-black everywhere, like Moreau’s cage is floating in an ocean of shadow. My eyes dart to Moreau in his chair, expecting him to turn around to face me at any moment. Only he doesn’t.
Not even when I come right up to the glass.
“Moreau?” I say in a small voice, wishing I sounded braver.
Suddenly Moreau and the chair vanish and a different scene emerges inside the cage—a fancy living room with plush chairs and a large fireplace.
I blink, and Moreau is face-to-face with me, so close that he could reach out and grab me if not for the glass.
I yelp and stumble backward.
A wide smile reaches across Moreau’s face, and he watches me for a moment before placing his palms against the glass. “No need to be frightened. Hardly any of my power reaches beyond this cursed fishbowl. Besides, why would I harm someone I’ve looked forward to meeting so very much?”
“Why do you care about meeting me?” I ask.
Moreau doesn’t answer. Instead, he closes his eyes and drums out a beat on the glass using the tips of his fingers. “Do you hear that? It’s your song, child. The magic in your blood, it sings such a strong melody. Can you hear my magic as well?”
I shake my head.
“You don’t possess any blood magic then.” Moreau frowns and steps away from me. “A pity. There are blood spells that allow one to live forever.”
I remember what Chief Crowe said about the Vampir spell and how the Night Brothers used it to conquer death. “I don’t want to live forever if it means I have to hurt people. It’s wrong.”
“Right and wrong are relative, my dear. For instance, is it right to keep another human being trapped in a cage? Of course not. And yet I doubt you’d agree with me that I should be set free. Remember this—there is only weakness and strength. The strong have imposed their will on the weak since the beginning of time. ’Tis the way of the world. Because your Bureau was stronger on the day they raided my island, I now find myself here.”
“I have questions,” I say. Let’s get this over with.
“As do I.” Moreau turns and begins to pace beside the glass wall. “But we mustn’t forget our manners. I am Raoul Moreau.” He dips into an elaborate bow. “And you are?”
“Um, Amari . . .” I lift my chin. “Amari Peters.”
He flinches at my last name, then laughs. “How very . . . unbelievably . . . ironic. It all becomes clear now. Yes. How could the Bureau ever justify locking up the sister of the famous Quinton Peters?”
I swallow and ask, “Do you know where he is?”
He smirks, his voice mocking. “Of course not. How could I lay hands on your brother from inside this cell?”
Agent Magnus and Agent Fiona warned me that would be his answer. I take another look at the paper in my hands. “I’m supposed to ask you some questions.”
“And I have questions for you too,” he replies. “Whatever will we do about this little conundrum?”
I think for a moment. “You and your apprentice like to make trades, right?” I ask bitterly. “Well, let’s trade questions. We’ll take turns.”
Moreau strokes his chin. “Very well. But you must promise to be truthful in your answers. There shall only be one lie between us, and I’ve already told it. Agreed?”
He’s already lied to me? “Does that mean you really do know where my brother is?”
Moreau frowns. “It means what it means.”
I set my jaw. “That’s not fair!”
Moreau snarls, and the cage becomes a tempest of swirling black clouds. “I am not some inconsequential lackey the Bureau can bully for information. You can either accept or you can leave empty-handed whilst utter chaos is wreaked upon your precious Bureau.” And then the man smiles, the scene returns to a cozy living room, and he’s pleasant again. “Now then, shall we begin?”
I shudder and close my eyes. Be confident. “Fine.”
“First question.” Moreau turns to pace a few steps before meeting my eyes again. “When the day comes that you have to choose a side—and that day will come—will you join your fellow magicians or would you side with this Bureau that hates everything we are?”
Fellow magicians? The question catches me off guard. “How many other magicians are there?”
“Hundreds, I’d wager.”
Hundreds? Are there really that many?
Moreau laughs at my surprise. “Come now, you didn’t think yourself so special as that, did you? Though I’ll admit you are unusually strong. And so very young. Now then, for my second question—”
“Wait, it’s my turn.”
&
nbsp; “No, you asked me about the current number of magicians and I answered to the best of my knowledge. That was our agreement.”
I kick the glass in annoyance. I’ve wasted an entire question.
“Quite the temper.” Moreau smiles darkly. “Don’t be angry, child. Be better.”
I ball my fists at my side. “Ask your next question.”
Moreau narrows his eyes at me. “Has anyone claimed you?”
“What do you—” I catch myself and start again. “I don’t know what you mean by that.”
“In the world of magicians, there are masters and there are apprentices. One to offer the power, the other to receive it. One to possess the wisdom, the other to need it. Whoever gave you such powerful magic should have claimed you by now. Unless . . .”
“Unless what?” I ask. “No! Don’t answer that. That isn’t my question.”
Moreau lets out a low snicker. “That I shall answer for free. Only a very powerful magician could bestow the kind of magic you possess, the likes of which no longer exist aside from myself. It is far more likely that you were born a magician. And if that’s true, then you are quite special indeed.”
As much as I want to know what being special is supposed to mean, I’ve got to remember why I’m here. I look down at my list of questions and decide to ask one of my own. Before he can trick me again. I meet Moreau’s amused stare. “You said you don’t know where Quinton is. So tell me what you do know about my brother’s disappearance . . . please?”
“Clever girl. If only your brother had been smarter in his choices. You might think his being taken was a simple matter of revenge, but I can assure you that we have far more substantial schemes at play. What I can tell you is that Quinton was looking into things he shouldn’t—things your precious Bureau would frown upon. I suppose he found something we wanted.”
“Like what?” I ask desperately.
“I’ve answered your question. You now know far more than you did when you came down here.” Another dark grin. “Earlier, you asked me a question. . . . You wished to know why I wanted to meet. Care to offer a guess?”
My mind is still spinning. “I don’t know.”
“Then by all means,” he says. “Allow me to explain. There is a plan being carried out that is many years in the making. A plan so perfect that not even my capture has prevented it from coming to pass. When the dust settles, this wretched Bureau will be destroyed and magicians shall take their rightful place in the world. I had been content to wait out the destruction here in my cell. But then I felt your magic awaken, like a clap of thunder that vibrated my very bones.”
Moreau waves his hands and the scene inside the cage changes again. I see myself covered in expensive jewels, a shimmering moonstone crown atop my head. “You could be great, my dear. Truly special. With the proper guidance, you could have anything your heart desires. Anyone who has ever wronged you would bow and scrape at your feet. You need only join us, Amari Peters. Join your fellow magicians.”
I just stare, unable to find my words. “I . . .”
He bares his lengthening canines in a grin. With a twirl of his fingers a hulking beast suddenly fills the space, ten-feet tall and as wide as a truck, with the growling head of a tiger and the muscular fur-covered body of a man. It stalks right up to the glass and lowers its snarling jaws to flash razor-sharp teeth. A low growl rattles the glass cage.
Is that what hybrids look like? I’m backing away before I even realize it. I’ve never seen anything scarier in my whole life.
“This is what your Bureau is up against, child. Do you imagine that anything could stand against an army of these deadly creatures? But what if you didn’t have to? What if creatures such as these were yours to command? What would you do with such power? What could you do?”
His voice drops to a whisper. “With magic as strong as yours, I could teach you to create your own.”
For a moment, I imagine myself back at Jefferson Academy surrounded by Emily Grant and her friends. Then I imagine those taunting smiles fading away as a pack of scowling hybrids show up to help me. I’ll bet they’d wet their pants at the sight. As much as I hate to admit it, a part of me likes that idea.
I shake those thoughts out of my head. What am I thinking? I turn to run back to Lord Kensington before Moreau can mess with my head anymore.
Still, I stop short of the elevator and make myself stand my ground, even though I feel like I could throw up. “I’m on the Bureau’s side—on my brother’s side. Always.”
Moreau sighs heavily and the illusions fade away until only he and his rocking chair remain. “The Bureau has long believed themselves beyond our reach. That arrogance will be their downfall. The hour draws near when we shall regain what was taken from us.” His voice hardens into a snarl. “Remember that I gave you a chance, little magician. In the end, we are all bound by our choices.”
16
ONCE WE LEAVE BLACKSTONE PRISON, LORD KENSINGton brings me to the Department of Supernatural Investigations to be debriefed, same as the adult agents whenever they get back from an important mission.
I can’t get there fast enough. I walk so quickly that I almost run over Director Van Helsing. He isn’t amused.
The debriefing room is the size of a closet. Inside, Agent Magnus and Agent Fiona sit at a square metal table. As soon as I’m through the door, I blurt out, “What was Quinton working on? And what did Moreau mean when he said he was looking into something he shouldn’t? What did my brother find that got him kidnapped?”
“VanQuish worked directly under me,” says Agent Magnus. “If he or Maria were looking into anything out of the ordinary, I’d have known about it.”
“Then why would Moreau say that?” I ask.
“We believe Moreau was merely mocking us,” says Agent Fiona. “Or, at most, it was an attempt to turn you against the Bureau and recruit you to his way of thinking. I had worried as much might be true, but we’ve had so little success until now that I thought it worth the risk.”
“I would never help him,” I say. “Not for anything.”
“We know you wouldn’t,” says Magnus. “Just don’t go taking anything that man said as fact.”
“Well, how about what he said about regaining what was taken?” I ask. “Is that the item of immense destructive power that you won’t tell me about—that’s supposed to be classified? Moreau seemed pretty sure he could get it even without trading VanQuish.”
Agent Fiona winces.
Agent Magnus looks smug. “This was your brilliant idea, Fiona.”
Agent Fiona lowers her voice to a whisper. “That item is none of your concern, Peters. Just know that we have taken every possible precaution to keep it safe.”
So not everything was a lie. But couldn’t that also mean none of it was a lie? Moreau made such a big deal out of telling each other the truth. “He said they would destroy this place. Aren’t you worried?”
“Buncha mumbo jumbo,” says Agent Magnus. “This place is a fortress. Nothing in the known or supernatural world could harm it.”
I lean forward. They didn’t see his face like I did. “But he seemed so sure . . .”
Agent Fiona answers. “And ye can be sure that we’ve taken every precaution to be certain the Bureau remains safe. Trust us, Amari.”
I wasn’t supposed to tell anybody what happened with Moreau today, but as soon as Elsie gets back from Junior Researcher training everything spills out of my mouth.
“What are you thinking?” she asks.
“I don’t know,” I say, pacing the floor between our beds. “I just keep wondering, what if Moreau was telling the truth? What if he’s so sure about his stupid plan that he doesn’t care who knows?”
“You think he just wanted to rub it in?”
“I think he knew the Bureau wouldn’t take his threats seriously because he’s locked away,” I say. “But maybe you and I should.” I glance at the Elsie’s whiteboard. “We know what the Bureau knows about VanQuish’s disapp
earance. So let’s move on to step three.”
Elsie goes over to grab the whiteboard. “Launch our own investigation. But where do we start?”
I think for a moment. “I’ll try and figure out what Quinton might’ve found that got him taken. Maybe it’ll help us track down Moreau’s apprentice.”
“That’s a good idea,” says Elsie. “I’ll try to research what this item of immense destructive power might be. I just wish we had more to go on besides that it was taken from Moreau.” She sighs. “Well, even if there’s nothing in the main library, there are a few other places I can try.”
“Good,” I say. “The more we know the better. I like our plan.”
Elsie starts to smile but it fades. “Be careful, okay? Now we’re the ones looking into stuff we aren’t supposed to. If we get caught . . .”
“We won’t,” I say. “We can’t.”
The next morning, I do my best to not think about my trip to Blackstone Prison. It isn’t easy. Even now, standing in one of the training gyms, when I’m supposed to be listening to Agent Magnus give us our first lesson on Sky Sprints, my thoughts keep going back to yesterday.
The size of that hybrid—are they really that scary or was Moreau exaggerating with his illusion? And what about Moreau’s perfect plan to take down the Bureau? Or the fact that he wants me on his side—the side of the magicians.
Concentrate, Amari. If you fail the tryouts it won’t matter what Moreau said.
I force myself to pay attention to Agent Magnus’s lecture.
“These boots give the wearer the ability to walk horizontally across open air, run up walls, even hang upside down from the ceiling. When used correctly, they’ll give you an advantage over a great many ground-based nasties. And if you encounter a nasty that can fly, well, you’d better be right strong in your technique because these here Sky Sprints will be your only chance. Everybody got that?”
We all nod.
I can’t help but stare at the Sky Sprints worn by the other trainees. Unlike me, they brought their own boots from home, and they all look so cool—and crazy expensive. The Van Helsings each have shiny chrome boots with Duboise written in cursive along the sides. Others wear LaBoom brand Sky Sprints made of polished wood. Only three of us have to go into the equipment room to pick out a pair of standard issue Sky Sprints. Mine look like worn-out sneakers and smell like feet.
