Amari and the Night Brothers

by B. B. Alston

  I look up to meet his eyes. “Or like me.”

  He nods.

  I shiver. “What makes a born magician so special?”

  Dylan leans back in his chair. “Born magicians are really rare. The Night Brothers are the only ones I’ve ever read about. It’s like nature itself chose you to be a magician. The rest of us inherit our magic from another magician.”

  “But how can we be sure I’m a born magician? Couldn’t someone have given me their magic without me knowing?”

  “Not exactly,” he replies. “The Apprenticeship spell isn’t the kind of thing you’d forget. It’s pretty intense, and it binds you to that magician forever. You two basically share the same magic.”

  “Who gave you yours?”

  Dylan sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. “I’m going to trust you with another really big secret, okay? I’m only telling you this to prove that being a magician doesn’t automatically make you a bad person.”

  “I won’t tell anyone. Pinkie promise.”

  After Dylan and I lock pinkies, he says, “You know the story of how my ancestor Abraham Van Helsing drove a stake into Vladimir’s heart, right? Well, there’s a reason Vladimir trusted him so much. Abraham Van Helsing was one of Vladimir’s magician apprentices.”

  “Are you serious?” I ask, leaning forward in my chair.

  “Totally serious. Van Helsing magicians have passed that magic down through our family for generations, keeping it secret from the rest of the family. The magic was passed to my uncle, who passed it to Maria before he died. And once she made Special Agent she passed it to me—”

  “Wait!” I interrupt. “You’re saying Maria is a magician too?”

  “There’s a reason I knew how to beat the Crystal Ball,” says Dylan. “Members of my family have been doing it for nearly seven hundred years.”

  It takes me a few seconds for that to sink in. “So we aren’t the first magicians to join the Bureau . . .”

  “Not even close! And not one of the magicians in my family went on any terrible crime sprees. They were as normal as anyone else. If anything, they used their magic to make themselves better at their jobs. It sucks that people hate magicians so much that they had to take their secret to the grave, though.”

  “Did Quinton know about Maria being a magician?”

  “I don’t think so,” says Dylan. “We really aren’t supposed tell anyone.”

  That’s an awfully big secret to keep. It means a lot that Dylan told me. I so want to believe him when he says that I don’t have to be the awful thing people say I am. But magicians are known for their crimes. And Moreau . . . “Then why do the bad magicians go bad?”

  “Beats me,” Dylan replies. “Maybe they get tired of being automatically hated because of the Night Brothers and they just snap. Doesn’t it make you angry how Lara and the other Junior Agent trainees treat you? It’s one of the reasons I took a risk and messaged you. I couldn’t stand the thought of you believing the hateful stuff the supernatural world wants you to believe. We’re different from every other person in the Bureau—but that just makes us special.”

  I smile. “Where did you learn all this?”

  “You probably know from my sister that my family has money. Rather than spend it on dumb shopping trips, I buy up whatever I can find about magicians. My parents think I’m going through a phase. Or at least that’s what they’re hoping. My dad is so paranoid about it he forbade me from talking to you. It’s why I haven’t exactly been the most outgoing person whenever my sister is around. She’d rat me out in a heartbeat.” He pulls a small book out of his jacket. “Bought this book of spells at a collector’s auction last year. It once belonged to Madame Violet, one of the most famous illusionists who’s ever lived.”

  Dylan hands the book to me. It looks like one of those fancy leather diaries. It even has a little golden key attached by a string of black velvet.

  I feel nervous just holding the thing.

  Dylan’s expression turns serious. “This secret is a really big deal to me and all the magician Van Helsings that came before me. We aren’t even allowed to tell the non-magician members of our family what we are. And believe me, my mom and dad would freak if they knew the truth about me and Maria. I guess I’m asking if you’re somebody I can trust.”

  I lower my eyes and think. Not until right now do I realize just how much I’ve needed a magician friend. Someone who understands what it’s like. I smile. “You can definitely trust me.”

  Dinnertime is almost over by the time I get back to my room. Elsie is probably still in the food court. If Mama were here, she’d tell me to get my butt down there and put something in my belly, especially since the first tryout is tomorrow. But there’s no way I can pass up a chance to see what this spell book has to offer. For as much trouble as it’s caused me, I’m so curious to know what kinds of things I can do with my magic. I practically sprinted the whole way here.

  I plop down onto my bed and pop the key into the tiny lock on book’s gold clasp.

  But the key doesn’t work.

  I try again and again but the thing just won’t open. Did Dylan trick me?

  There I go not trusting him again. He took a big chance telling me his secret; there has to be a way to get this thing open.

  After a few more tries, I’m about ready to throw the dumb thing across the room, when my finger grazes the slightest little bump on the spine of the book.

  Bringing the book closer to the light, I spot a tiny, golden button. I give it a press and the clasp unfastens. Then, on its own, the book opens to the very first page:

  WELL DONE!

  The first lesson in the training of an illusionist is this: Never trust. Take absolutely nothing at face value. In viewing anything, assume its appearance is false until proven otherwise. To this end, the very first spell the novice illusionist must learn is the extremely simple spell that casts aside illusions set forth by others.

  DISPEL

  Once you’ve read this entire page, shut this book. Then, with only your pointer and middle fingers extended, wave your hand in front of it and speak the word Dispel.

  This must be what Dylan used to get rid of his tattoo girl illusion. I close the book and extend my two fingers. Slowly, I move my hand over the book and say, “Dispel.”

  A warm sensation fills my chest, like when you drink hot chocolate on a cold day. Instantly, the book begins to tremble on my bed, and bright red spots peek through the black leather cover. As it continues to shake, the edges of the book expand to twice its original size, and it gets thicker too. When it finally stops moving, I’m left with a large red leather book with a new lock and clasp and shiny gold lettering across the cover:

  SO YOU WANT TO BE AN ILLUSIONIST?

  THE SPELLS AND MUSINGS OF MADAME VIOLET,

  FOREMOST ILLUSIONIST OF HER ERA

  “I knew you were up to something!” comes Lara’s voice from behind me.

  I nearly fall off the bed before turning to find my door barely open and Lara eyeing me through the crack. Except that’s not all—she’s recording me with her phone too. She must’ve seen me rushing down the hallway and followed me.

  I swallow. “How much did you see?”

  Lara steps into my room and kicks the door shut behind her. She lunges for the book but I clutch it to my chest. I make a run for the door.

  She easily beats me there.

  With a smirk, Lara yanks the book out of my arms like it’s nothing. Her Superhuman Athleticism ability must make her super strong too.

  Lara holds the book up to her face and shakes her head. “You are in so much trouble. They’re going to kick you out for this. I hope you know that. They might even arrest you.”

  “Please,” I beg. “Don’t tell.” How could I be so dumb as to let Lara catch me? If I get kicked out, they’ll take my memories and there goes any chance of finding my brother.

  Lara grins. “On one condition.”

  My heart sinks. “What condition
?”

  “I want you to quit Junior Agent training.”

  “But I can’t quit!” I say, shaking my head. How am I going to search for Quinton if I can’t even get into the Department of Supernatural Investigations? How am I supposed to join the Bureau’s official search if I can’t become a Junior Agent?

  Lara shrugs and leans back against my door. “There are only four spots and I won’t risk you stealing one because everyone loves your stupid brother so much. It’s either quit or get kicked out of the Bureau. Your decision.”

  It’s not much of a choice at all.

  19

  WITH THE FIRST TRYOUT TOMORROW, LARA INSISTED I quit right away.

  For as much as I dreaded possibly failing the tryout, it would’ve been nice to at least get the chance to see what I could do. Maybe I only saw Supernatural Investigations as a way to learn about what happened to Quinton at first, but I’ve done so much in just a few days. Elsie and I launched our own investigation, I got to question Moreau and used what I learned to get Dylan to tell me about the Black Book. I think I actually started to see myself as a real Agent.

  It would’ve been so great to prove Director Van Helsing and all the others rooting against me wrong. The worst part is that people like Elsie and Agent Fiona were rooting for me. It would’ve been nice to not feel like such a disappointment for once.

  I take Lucy up to the Department of Supernatural Investigations. It’s late, but the halls are just as busy as they were during our tour the other day. Makes sense, I guess. Protecting the innocent is a twenty-four-hour job.

  Like it or not, I screwed up big-time. All Lara has to do is message that video of me to her dad and I’m toast.

  I’m pretty sure I remember where the offices are, so I head to the right side of the main hall and enter another hallway. The first door I come to has a plaque that reads Strategy Room. I peek through the crack in the door to find men and women in army fatigues arguing as they huddle over a Battleship board game. Whatever they’re talking about, it sounds serious. The next door has no plaque but shouting comes from inside. Nosy as ever, I stop to listen. “You tell the Governor that if he didn’t want his house pushed into the lake, then he shouldn’t have cleared that forest. Seems to me the yetis were only returning the favor.”

  I find Agent Magnus’s door locked. Just my luck. But then I hear his gravelly laugh from somewhere behind me, so I follow the sound until I reach Agent Fiona’s office. Well, that’s just great. I’ve got to quit in front of both of them.

  I give the door a knock.

  Magnus appears in the doorway. “Kinda in the middle of something, kid. What do you want?”

  When I practiced on the way here, I imagined myself meeting his eyes and confidently saying, “I’m looking to do something different. I’m over the whole Junior Agent thing. Just need you to fill out the paperwork.”

  But now that Agent Magnus is front of me, the words are a lot tougher to get out. “Okay so . . . the thing is . . .”

  “Spit it out.”

  Deep breath. “I need to switch to another department.”

  The door swings open fully. “Don’t tell me you’ve given up before you’ve tested yourself even once.” Agent Fiona stares down at me with those scary blue eyes. Except she’s not nearly as frightening with her hair all done up in pretty curls. She’s wearing an emerald gown that looks amazing on her.

  Confused, I peek into the room to see that there is a candlelit dinner for two on top of Agent Fiona’s desk. “Are you guys on a date? Like a date date?”

  Agent Magnus stands up a little straighter. “What’s it to you if we are?”

  “Oh nothing,” I say. “Just, good job, I guess. Agent Fiona is way out of your league.”

  Agent Fiona smothers a laugh as Agent Magnus goes red.

  “I like to think I make up for the rather significant, err . . . beauty gap in other ways. Devilish charm and impeccable character, for instance.”

  Agent Fiona eyes me. “I’ve got half a mind to take a look at your intentions, see what’s really behind this sudden change of heart, Peters.”

  If she does that, then she’ll know about me using a spell inside the Bureau. That would be a disaster. I’ve got to think of something, fast.

  “But I won’t . . .” Agent Fiona adds. “Instead, I want ye to take the rest of the evening and think this through, ye hear? This is a big decision and it shouldn’t be made without at least a wee bit of reflection. If ye come back in the morning and still feel the same, then I’ll gladly sign the paperwork meself.”

  “But I am sure,” I say.

  “Do it as a favor to me,” says Magnus. “Don’t forget you owe me one for speaking up for you a few days back.”

  I sigh in defeat. “Fine.”

  The sleep-ins are being held in two of the training rooms. One for the girls and one for the boys. We’re supposed to use the locker rooms inside to change into our pajamas. The whole purpose is to relax and build friendships with other trainees before the stress of tomorrow’s tryouts.

  As soon as I step into the training room, Lara hops off her bed and comes right up to me. “Well?” she says, hands on her hips.

  I can’t even meet her eyes. “They said I have to wait until morning. They want me to be sure.”

  Lara huffs. “You’d better be sure.” Then she turns and stomps back to her bed.

  I pick the bed the farthest away from everyone else. I’m not in the mood for Lara tonight, and all the other girls have chosen beds that surround hers. She’s like the sun and they’re a bunch of little planets. They all talk excitedly about what tomorrow’s tryout might be. Lara assures everyone that she’s seen the rules on her father’s desk and that it’s basically a massive obstacle course with little stations where we have to answer supernatural trivia questions.

  Hearing that makes me feel a little bit better. I’ll get to save myself the embarrassment of being the only moonstone badge recipient to fail a tryout and be sent home. For all the reading I’ve been doing, it feels like I haven’t even made a dent in my supernatural booklist. While the other girls press Lara for more clues, I lie back on my pillow, pull out my cell phone, and plug in my earbuds. I close my eyes and before I know it, I’m drifting off to sleep.

  What feels like just minutes later, my eyes jump back open. Dylan crouches over me, flicking my cheek with his hand. I sit up and freeze. What’s going on? I’m not in the training room anymore. I’m on the floor of a small library. A dusty desk sits to my left and there are battered bookcases all around me.

  “Good,” says Dylan, standing up. “You’re finally asleep.”

  “You mean awake?” I say groggily.

  “No, I mean asleep. We’re sharing a Wakeful Dream. I think this is the first tryout.”

  For real? I think back to Agent Fiona and Agent Magnus wanting me to wait and make my decision in the morning. They didn’t want me to quit before the first tryout.

  I groan. I’m not a fan of being tricked.

  But I’m also wondering if maybe it means they think I actually have a chance of passing.

  Ugh. But I can’t pass. Not with Lara holding that video over my head.

  “Are we partners?” I ask him.

  Before Dylan can answer, a ball of red flame bursts into existence between us. It grows, burning white-hot before it explodes into a fiery message. Dylan circles around to read it with me.

  WELCOME TO THE FIRST JUNIOR AGENT TRYOUT.

  GET TO THE BASEMENT DOWNSTAIRS AND RETRIEVE WHAT WAS STOLEN.

  HINT: IT’S THE MOST VALUABLE THING YOU’LL FIND.

  BE PREPARED TO EXPLAIN YOUR CHOICE.

  AND REMEMBER,

  YOUR EVERY DECISION WILL BE JUDGED.

  GOOD LUCK!

  The words disappear into a cloud of smoke.

  “Be prepared to explain your choice,” Dylan repeats.

  “Maybe there’s more than one object to choose from?” I say.

  Dylan laughs. “Well, it wouldn’t be m
uch of a challenge if there wasn’t. I think we need to figure out the answer to your first question—are we supposed to work together or is this a me versus you competition?”

  They can’t expect us to work together. “It has to be a competition,” I say. “If they eliminate the loser of each pairing, then that leaves the sixteen trainees that move on to the next tryout.”

  “True, but don’t forget that real agents always work in pairs.”

  I bite my lip. He makes a good point.

  “Hmm,” says Dylan. “Maybe we should agree to work together until something tells us we can’t.”

  “Okay.” Hopefully that comes sooner rather than later so I can just get this over with and let him win.

  “We should start by observing our surroundings,” Dylan says, looking around. “There’s probably a reason we’re in this room.”

  “All I see is a lot of books.”

  “Look for details,” Dylan says. He points to the corner of the ceiling. “How about those cobwebs?” He sniffs. “And there’s dust everywhere. Maybe we’re in an abandoned house.”

  I point to a pot full of pretty white and violet flowers. “Someone has to be watering those.”

  “Good find. Let’s keep that in mind while we head to the basement. Uh, okay if I lead?”

  “Sure,” I say. “You’ve got more experience in the supernatural world.”

  Dylan pulls open the squeaky door and pokes his head out. “We’re at the end of a hallway. It seems empty.”

  “Seems?” I say, but he’s already stepped into the darkness.

  Here goes nothing. I follow Dylan into the hall. It’s dark as far as I can see, the only light coming from two open doorways on the right side of the hall. Unless one of those rooms leads down to the basement, I don’t know where else the entrance might be.

  We tiptoe through the darkness, the floorboards creaking loudly beneath our feet. Twice, we hear what sounds like voices up ahead and Dylan has us stop and wait. Both times it just gets quiet again and we continue down the hall.