by B. B. Alston
It seems like forever before we reach the first doorway. Dylan stops us short of the entrance. “We should check out both rooms. We don’t want any surprises.”
“Good idea.”
Dylan leans into the open doorway and whispers, “A weapons room.”
We both slip inside and close the door behind us. The sunlight and warm air coming through the large, busted-out window make the room feel like an oven. Outside a wide desert stretches into the horizon. A cactus that’s been chopped down is all there is to see.
“Maybe we should choose something,” Dylan says, picking up a dagger from the weapons rack. Axes, maces, a javelin, and a couple swords hang from metal hooks. There’s even a crossbow.
I grab a really cool-looking ax—which is surprisingly light—and give it a couple swings. Then I get a scary thought. “Does this mean we’ll have to fight something?”
“No clue. I’m as much in the dark about this as you are.”
That might be true, but the way he twirls the dagger between his fingers like a pro makes it clear he at least knows how to fight. “We should get going,” he says.
I nod and follow him out the door.
The hallway feels even darker than last time. Probably because the weapons room was so bright. Dylan moves quicker this time, ignoring the loud floorboards. Having that dagger must be a confidence boost. Or maybe he’s as ready to get out of this spooky place as I am.
Dylan’s breath catches, and he stops suddenly. I don’t have to ask why. Gleaming red eyes appear in the dark. A hulking frame in tattered clothing steps into the light of the second doorway, its head hanging unnaturally to one side. It’s missing an arm and one of its legs is turned the wrong way.
It moves toward us with jerky steps. A growl fills the hallway.
Dylan lifts his dagger. That’s when I see it.
“No!” I shout, and grab his arm.
“What are you doing?” says Dylan.
The creature stumbles right past us.
“Look,” I say. Lit by the sunlight pouring out from the weapons room doorway, I’m able to point out the bouquet of flowers in the creature’s hand.
“Just because we’re afraid, doesn’t give us the right to attack,” I say. “Where I’m from that happens a lot—you get labeled as bad or scary just by how you look or what neighborhood you’re in. Remember that flowerpot in the library? I’ll bet whatever that was is just going to put some flowers in it.”
“Thanks,” Dylan says in the darkness. “That was a good call.”
I smile. “Maybe I should lead.”
He laughs. “Good idea.”
I move to the front and into the next doorway. Another room with a view of the desert landscape. “It’s empty.”
Dylan joins me in the doorway. “Are you sure?”
Before I can answer, something whimpers. Looking harder, I’m able to make out a girl tucked into the shadows directly beneath the window.
“Help,” the girl says. “Please.”
Wait, she’s a Junior Agent trainee like we are. Stephanie something. A sword lies at her side.
“I don’t wanna be a Junior Agent anymore,” Stephanie says. “Did you see that thing in the hall? Can I come with you guys?”
“No,” Dylan says firmly.
“Seriously?” I ask. “Can’t you see she’s scared?”
“Where’s your partner?” Dylan asks.
“When I told him I wanted to quit, he left me here,” answers Stephanie. “Said he wouldn’t let me ruin his tryout.”
“So you haven’t left this room?” Dylan asks.
Stephanie shakes her head. “I never should’ve picked this stupid career. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Enough of Dylan’s questions. I’m going to help her.
I make it all of two steps before Dylan shouts my name. He adds, “Don’t go any closer.”
“I’m helping her,” I say.
“Ask her where she got the sword,” says Dylan.
I stop cold. She would’ve had to go to the weapons room to get that sword. But she just told us she hasn’t left this room.
A wicked grin spreads across Stephanie’s face, revealing fangs. The sight makes Moreau’s fangs flash in my head and I totally freeze up. She lunges for me, but Dylan shoves her back just in time. The girl stumbles into the sunlight, where she dissolves into a cloud of ashes.
“Thanks.” I close my eyes and shake out my nerves. “How did you know?”
“Since the first test was about something scary being harmless, it only makes sense that this test would be the opposite.”
Why didn’t I think of that? Having a partner is working out pretty well so far. Which is probably the point—we’re supposed to work together. My heart sinks. Dylan trusts me. Am I really going to let him fail because of me?
For so long I’ve wished for real friends—for someone to have my back. Is this the kind of friend I want to be?
No. I’ve got to at least try my best. I can always quit after this tryout.
Near the end of the hallway, Dylan and I find a staircase hidden away in the darkness. We both ease down the steps as quietly as possible.
A dark stone room waits at the bottom of the stairs. A row of pedestals runs down the middle, leading to a tall red door in the middle of the back wall.
Dylan raises his dagger, his eyes darting around the room. I grip the handle of my ax and move to his side. As we near the pedestals, I keep waiting for something to jump out. For some alarm or booby trap to go off.
Nothing happens.
Dylan presses his lips tight. “This feels . . .”
“Too easy?” I finish.
“Way too easy,” Dylan agrees. “Unless this test is just deciding which of these treasures is the most valuable.”
I take a look at the pedestals. There are four in all, each a little taller than the one before it. The first pedestal holds a painting of a giant sea dragon crushing a large wooden ship. Electricity sparks across the beast’s massive body.
“The leviathan,” says Dylan, coming up beside me. “One of the seven great beasts.”
Dylan continues to the second pedestal where a bowl of clay sits. It’s covered in primitive markings.
“I bet that’s beyond ancient,” I say.
Dylan’s eyes go back and forth between the two pedestals. “Does that make it more or less valuable than the painting?”
“Good question.”
Dylan shakes his head in frustration. “This is impossible.”
On the third pedestal is a glittering diamond bracelet. The fourth holds a golden crown covered in jewels. I stare at the last pedestal. The diamond might make me rich, but a crown would make me queen. But it can’t be that simple, can it?
I want a closer look. But the moment I step beyond the diamond bracelet, a loud boom echoes through the room as something crashes into the other side of the big red door.
I turn to find Dylan staring wide-eyed.
“Take another step,” says Dylan.
I move closer to the crown.
Boom! Another bone-rattling crash. Every step I take toward the crown causes something to slam into the door.
“Grab the crown!” Dylan shouts.
I sprint the rest of the way and snatch the crown from the pedestal. The red door bursts open, sending a wave of water through the room. It knocks me off my feet and carries me back to the third pedestal.
I whip my head around looking for Dylan and find him sliding, waving his arms for something to hold on to. He slams hard into the back wall and vanishes.
He must’ve woken up.
Meaning I’m on my own now. I dropped my ax when that wave hit me, but at least I managed to hold on to the crown. Seeing as how the dream hasn’t ended yet, it’s pretty clear that just having it isn’t enough. I need to get back up the stairs.
The room beyond the door is full of water, but it isn’t pouring out. It’s like the water has been magicked to stay inside. A huge,
dark shadow appears. I swallow and grip the crown more tightly. What could that be?
Shimmering gray scales emerge from the watery room. I recognize them from one of Quinton’s old nature magazines. A water python. Actually, the king of water pythons—that thing’s head is the size of a car.
The giant snake hisses and bares it fangs, its beady yellow eyes glaring.
Can’t give up. I need to think of a plan. But what? Maybe if I can get to my ax I can fight it off?
I crawl through a foot of water back to the last pedestal, putting it between the snake and me. I glance around for my ax. Yeah, because that’ll do a lot of good against that thing. Dumb plan, Amari.
I’ll have to make a run for it.
Another menacing hiss fills the room.
I sprint for the stairs, but the giant snake doesn’t give chase. A realization strikes me like lightning—the crown isn’t what we came for. I stop just short of the stairwell and drop it.
The instant my foot touches the first stair the world around me vanishes. I wake up in my bed, a pair of Wakeful Dream shades over my eyes.
An agent lifts the shades from my face. When I sit up, I’m surrounded by the other girl trainees.
“How do you feel?” asks the agent. Her name tag says Special Agent Meredith Walters.
“Sleepy,” I say. “Did I pass?”
“You made it the longest,” she replies, “and that’s usually a very good sign.”
“And Dylan, he’s all right?” I ask.
Agent Walters nods and stands. “Now that everyone is awake, please go to the locker rooms and get changed into your trainee uniforms. Once everyone is dressed, we’ll head to the briefing auditorium to meet with Agent Fiona and Agent Magnus for the results. I must stress that the tryout hasn’t concluded, so no talking among yourselves.”
“It seems the girls have arrived,” says Agent Magnus from up onstage. “Please come up and stand next to your partner.”
I see Dylan near the end of the stage and take the spot next to him. His eyes ask me how it went but I can only give him a small shrug. I’ve either got this thing all figured out, or I screwed it up big-time.
Agent Fiona clears her throat and steps to the center of the stage. “Now that everyone’s here, allow me to start by saying that no matter how ye did during your tryout, ye should be proud of yourselves. This tryout is designed to trick ye, to test your instincts and your ability to work as a team. Instincts and teamwork are the foundation of what makes a great agent.”
She continues. “Every single action was judged, but there were three automatic disqualifiers. The first test was simple: Did ye leave the library together? There were quite a few close calls but ultimately only two pairs failed that task. When I read your names, please exit the stage and meet with Agent Walters at the entrance for further instruction.”
Once those trainees are gone, Agent Fiona shoots the rest of us a sneaky smile. “Next, we offered ye the chance to get yourselves a weapon. And then we gave ye a chance to use it. Depending on the combined level of familiarity with the supernatural world, there were more or less clues that Mr. Zombie was absolutely not a threat. For instance, a pair with no familiarity had Mr. Zombie appear in pink polka dot pajamas humming happy birthday whilst carrying a bouquet of flowers.”
Chuckles erupt in the theater.
“Still, this one tripped up a few of ye,” says Agent Fiona. She reads off some names and more trainees leave the stage.
Agent Fiona crosses her arms. “Seems the most effective of the disqualifiers was the stranded trainee room. A dirty trick, to be sure, but also a way to take measure of your instincts and how well you analyze a situation. There was no range of difficulty for this test—it was the same for all of ye.”
This time eight trainees hear their names called.
“Good news, all,” says Agent Fiona. “Since we’re already at the sixteen trainees we expected to keep, it means everyone left onstage has passed the first tryout . . .”
I blow out a huge sigh of relief. Thank goodness.
“But dontcha go gettin’ comfortable, because the second tryout will be a doozy! Lucky for two of ye, the pair that scored the highest in this tryout gets a head start at the next one. Now then, the objective was to retrieve what was stolen, and we gave ye a hint that it was the most valuable thing you’d find. Curiously, every pair but one left with the crown in hand. Would ye believe the odd pair is none other than Dylan Van Helsing and his partner, Amari Peters? I wonder, does that make ye more or less confident in your choice?”
Dylan spins around to face me, eyes wide. I open my mouth to defend myself, but remember we aren’t allowed to speak yet. Was I really the only one to leave the crown behind?
“I’m going down the row,” says Agent Fiona. “And I want each of you to tell me why ye made the decision ye did.”
All the others have similar answers.
“Crowns are priceless.”
“Crowns give you power.”
“Crowns represent a whole nation of people.”
Finally, Agent Fiona stops in front of me and Dylan. “I’d ask ye about the decision, little Van Helsing, but ye didn’t make it to the end, did ye?”
Dylan goes red.
Agent Fiona steps in front of me. “Tell me, was it a bit of genius or a severe case of overthinking that led ye to drop the crown before retreating up the staircase?”
I clear my throat. “I’ll say . . . genius?”
Agent Fiona begins to circle both me and Dylan. “Go on, then. I’d love to hear the reasonin’.”
“Well,” I say. “I didn’t actually know until I tried to escape with the crown. The water python didn’t chase me and I wondered why. Then I realized it was because the snake wasn’t guarding the crown. It was guarding the water.”
“Hmm,” says Agent Fiona. “Interestin’ theory. But why would the water be so valuable?”
“Because the dream took place in a desert,” I reply. “I noticed it when we were in the weapons room. The land was so barren, the only thing alive was a cactus. And even that had been chopped down for the water already. Put a king in that desert and he’d gladly trade his crown for a drink of water.”
“Shots fired!” Agent Fiona laughs. “Okay, Miss Smarty-Pants. Why then would the water python attack when ye grabbed the crown?”
I grin, feeling more confident. “The crown was on the last pedestal,” I say. “Every step closer to the crown was also a step closer to the water room the snake was guarding. Behind that door, the python only knew that I was getting closer. It couldn’t have known if I was going for the crown or the water room.”
“Still,” Agent Fiona says, coming to a stop in front of me. She eyes me closely. “Ye were asked to retrieve what was most important.”
“I did,” I say. “I was dripping wet when I got to the last stair.”
“You’re absolutely correct. Congratulations! A perfect score. First time since your brother did it. Ye and Dylan will both receive a thirty-second head start at the next tryout. Should ye decide to split up and choose new partners, then it’ll apply to both your new teams.”
Agent Fiona winks and adds in a lower voice, “Trust you’ll be sticking around then, Peters?”
Dylan picks me up and spins me around the stage. My arms are flailing and I’m grinning and laughing so hard my stomach aches.
“That was so epic!” he says, finally putting me down. “We really did it!”
I nod, my face flushing. “We really did.”
Lara steps between us. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t send that video to my father right now.”
“What video?” says Dylan.
“I recorded your partner using a spell book inside the Bureau,” says Lara. “Caught her red-handed.”
“Prove it,” says Dylan.
Lara pulls out her phone and starts tapping away at the screen. Her face falls. “It’s gone! I don’t get it. It was right here!”
“There you go maki
ng stuff up again, sis.” Dylan shakes his head. “Oh, and the book is mine, by the way. Amari’s just borrowing it. You tell Dad I brought it here, and I’ll tell Mom who really maxed out her Duboise Cosmetics credit card.”
Lara just stands there, stunned. Then she huffs and stomps away from us.
“Make sure you put my book back where you found it,” Dylan calls.
If Lara was shocked, it’s nothing to how I feel. “You erased the video with magic?” I ask.
“Tech-magic has its benefits.”
“Thank you so much,” I say. “If I’d thought of that earlier, I could’ve saved myself a whole lot of worrying.”
Dylan just shrugs. “Partners have each other’s backs, right?”
Definitely.
20
“CONGRATULATIONS TO OUR TOP SIXTEEN TRAINEES!” says Director Van Helsing, raising a glass of strawberry punch. “And a special congratulations to my son, Dylan, who finished at the top of the rankings. I want all of you to eat, drink, and be merry before our first weekend break. You’ve earned it. On Monday, return to us focused, refreshed, and ready to get back to work! Cheers to you all!”
The trainees gathered in the large conference room let out a cheer. The conference table is completely covered in desserts—tall frosted cakes, huge plates of cookies, steaming pies. Kids gather around, munching and laughing. They’re gathered around Dylan, too, giving him high fives and pats on the back. Even the Junior Agents who put this whole thing together for us tell him good job. Lara makes sure to stand right next to him, soaking in the attention as though she was his partner and not me.
I’m left standing alone by the door, arms crossed, staring down at my feet. None of those same kids come over to congratulate to me. But then I guess Dylan wasn’t the one who showed them up in front of Agent Fiona. Even though that’s not what I was trying to do at all.
It bothers me a little that Dylan is hogging the praise. Because if they knew the truth, that he’s a magician like me, things would be totally different. I almost want to blurt it out to everyone, but I know it’s just me feeling jealous. Plus, I’m so grateful that he bailed me out of the situation with Lara. And that he’s trying to help me with being a magician.
