by B. B. Alston
“I do,” says Mama. “But I told you. Quinton was working.”
“Working, you say?” asks the detective. “Ever been to this job? Seen a paycheck or even a check stub?”
Mama drops her eyes and frowns.
I’ve heard enough. I stomp into the living room. “Leave her alone!”
Both the detective and Mama jump in surprise.
“Amari?” says Mama. “What are you doing here?”
I’m so focused on the detective I barely even hear her. “She’s already answered your questions, so just go.”
“I know this ain’t easy,” says the detective, “especially coming from somebody like me. But—”
“I don’t care, okay? You can’t just come in here and say stuff like that when you don’t know. You can’t assume what my brother is like just because of where we’re from. Quinton is a good person. The best person. And I’m not going to let you just say whatever you want about him.”
“Amari!” says Mama.
“All right,” says the detective, getting to his feet. He ignores me and speaks directly to Mama. “Wasn’t my intention to start any trouble.”
Mama takes a shaky breath. “Thank you, detective.”
I slam the door shut behind him.
Mama covers her face, crying. I go over and take a seat beside her and say, “I meant what I said. You should hear the kinds of things they say about Quinton.”
But Mama just shakes her head. “What Quinton did in that leadership camp doesn’t matter, Babygirl.”
What can I say to make her understand the truth? I could try to come up with a way to explain the Bureau to her, but how can I do that without sounding like I’m making it up? I could show her a spell but then she’d freak. And there’s no telling how the Bureau would react if they found out. Would I get in trouble? Would we both get in trouble?
But watching her cry like this is too hard. I have to do something.
“You shouldn’t have blown up at that detective like that,” says Mama. “He’s just trying to help.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “But he was wrong about Quinton. You know that.”
“I don’t know that,” says Mama, her voice harsh. “I have no idea what Quinton was doing. For all we know he got caught up in the same mess as so many of the young men from around here.”
“Mama.” I’m too stunned to say anything else.
She gets up and trudges into the hallway. I hear her bedroom door close.
And that’s when I realize I’m crying too. But not because I’m sad.
I’m mad. Mad at whoever’s keeping Quinton away from us. And mad at myself for ever becoming so scared that I’d consider giving up on my brother. I’ve got to be stronger than I’ve been. No matter how bad those other kids make me feel, nothing’s worse than seeing Mama hurt like this.
I’ve got to bring Quinton home, if only to prove to Mama that her son is everything she’s always thought him to be. And more.
After munching on a Hot Pocket, I go ahead and iron Mama’s work uniform and hang it up on her doorknob. The light in her room is out so hopefully she was able to fall asleep. Even though it’s been a couple hours since that detective left, I’m still so frustrated that there’s no way I’ll be falling asleep anytime soon. So I grab my cell phone, plug in my earbuds, and head upstairs to the roof.
The night sky is still cloudy so it’s even darker than usual. Cautiously, I take a seat right at the edge of the roof and let my feet dangle over the side. I can hear both Quinton’s and Mama’s voices in my head telling me to come back to where it’s safer. But honestly it feels good not to listen for once. To be scared of something and do it anyway. If I’m going back to the Bureau, this is good practice.
“Amari?”
I whip around to see Jayden coming up behind me. “What are you doing up here this late?”
He just smiles and plops down beside me. “Ma’s new boyfriend don’t like having me around so I come up here till they fall asleep. How about you? Thought you were out doing fancy kid stuff.”
I laugh at that. “Trust me, there’s nothing fancy about Amari Peters.” The kids at the Bureau make sure I know it too.
“Yeah, right,” he says. “You’re practically a legend in the ’Wood.”
I raise an eyebrow and he laughs.
“I’m serious,” he adds. “People in the neighborhood love them some Peters. And not just your brother either—you too. We all think you’re gonna be president or something.”
“No, they talk about me because of my brother, there’s a big difference. I’m not good at everything like he is.”
Jayden looks at me like he has no clue what I’m talking about. “So you didn’t get all the school awards back in elementary school? And I guess they just give anybody a scholarship to those rich kid schools, huh?”
“Oh, be quiet,” I say, blushing a little.
“I get it, though,” he says. “Can’t be easy having Quinton Peters as your brother. It’s like being the second-best basketball player in the whole world but your brother is the best—you’d grow up losing all the time and thinking you suck. But everybody else, the people watching, we see you pulling off moves we only wish we could. We able to see how great you are.”
I open my mouth, but don’t know what to say.
Jayden’s phone rings and his whole expression sours. He sighs as he gets to his feet.
“Jayden . . .” I say.
“I’m trying to get myself out of the Wood Boyz, I really am,” he says. “You and Quinton will still help me when I do, right?”
I nod. “Definitely.”
He grins and nods too, then disappears down the stairwell.
Jayden’s words stay on the roof with me. I have always compared myself to Quinton and never felt like I measured up. My brother is good at everything without even trying . . . because that’s his supernatural ability, I realize! Quinton has super-genius aptitude—Director Van Helsing said it gives him the ability to learn anything with ease.
Why haven’t I ever realized this before now? My whole life I’ve been comparing my best efforts to my brother’s supernatural efforts. Of course I’d fall short.
My phone rings. I take a look at the screen, thinking it has to be Elsie. But the phone number is blocked out, and the caller ID just says “Surprise.”
Huh? Maybe Dylan, then. That tech magic of his. I tap to answer and say, “Hello?”
At first there’s nothing, then a robotic voice comes on the line. “ENEMIES OF MAGICIANKIND, YOU WERE WARNED WHAT WOULD HAPPEN IF OUR DEMANDS WEREN’T MET. NOW SUFFER THE CONSEQUENCES.”
The call ends. Consequences?
A message pops up on my screen. It’s a video, shot from overhead. I squint down at my phone at footage of massive creatures sprinting across someone’s front lawn. They look like those hulking creatures Moreau showed me back in Blackstone Prison. Hybrids.
Once they reach a mansion, the monsters don’t even break stride, bursting through the front doors and shattering the wall of windows.
No! I recognize that house. I saw it on Lara’s Eurg page. That’s Van Helsing Manor. The scene changes to another mansion, then another, all overrun by hybrids. When it finally ends, I get to my feet and open up my own Eurg page.
Hands shaking, I contact Dylan the only way I know how.
From: Amari_Peters
I just got a weird video showing your house being attacked. Are you OK?
I pace back and forth across the roof waiting for a reply from magiciangirl18, aka my partner. Instead I get a call from Elsie.
“Ohmygosh, do you know if the Van Helsings are okay?” she asks.
“I don’t know—wait, you got that video too?”
“Yeah,” she says. “So did my mom and her coworkers at the Department of Creature Control. I think it went out to the entire Bureau.”
23
I DON’T HEAR FROM DYLAN UNTIL THE NEXT DAY. HE video calls me from inside the Department of Supern
atural Health sporting an ugly bruise on his forehead. I must make a face because he says, “You should’ve seen me before the Healers.”
“But you’re all right?” I ask. “Is your family okay?”
“Well, Mom and Lara were touring this year’s Heartland Crop Circle Art Festival, so it was just me and Dad there when the hybrids stormed in. I tried to fight them off as I ran to find him, but one of them clawed me pretty good. We barely made it out of there.”
“Thank goodness,” I say. “I wasn’t sure what to think when I got that strange phone call and video.”
Dylan’s expression turns serious. “I just keep thinking what if everyone was home for the weekend like usual. Would we all have made it out? Lara’s room is on that side of the house. Moreau’s people went after my family, Amari. Again.”
“I know,” I say. “It’s awful.” Lara and I might not get along, but I’d never wish for her to get hurt.
“Dad says the attacks were against old legacy families. Our house wasn’t even the worst hit,” he says. “A lot of people got hurt. Some didn’t make it. Billy Pogo’s unnatural luck saved him, but he lost both his parents. He’s not coming back to the Bureau this summer.”
I shudder at the realization of what he’s saying. I couldn’t imagine losing Mama.
“I want to be the one to stop them,” Dylan says solemnly. “Promise you’ll help me make Junior Agent. You know we make a great team.”
“I’ve already decided to go back,” I say. “Because I plan to be the one to bring Quinton and Maria home.”
“Are we going to be VanQuish 2.0?” he asks with a small smile. “We made a pretty good team the other day.”
I nod. “From now on we share whatever we find.”
“Deal.”
Mama’s doing a lot better by the time Sunday comes around.
Neither of us brings up the other night. We mainly just talk about how well I’m doing at “leadership camp.” It seems to lift her spirits some.
As we turn onto the tree-lined drive of the Vanderbilt Hotel I tell her how I’m ranked first in my group. I leave out the part about me feeling like an outsider, just like I did back at Jefferson Academy. That would only make Mama worry, and she already looks exhausted from the extra shifts she’s been working. She even worked a half shift this morning.
“I’m so proud of you, Babygirl. Doing well here can open so many doors for you.”
“I know, Mama.” I meant to give a more cheerful answer, but the sight of the hotel sends a shiver through me. As much as I’ve tried to prepare myself, the thought of facing the other kids is still pretty scary. Especially after the latest hybrid attack. If the other kids weren’t fond of having a magician in the Bureau before, I can only guess what they’ll be thinking now.
Mama looks at me for a second. “You’d tell me if anything was wrong, wouldn’t you?”
“I’m fine,” I say. “Just feeling a little sleepy.” I even throw in a fake yawn.
I’m not sure if a well-rested Mama would buy my excuse, but since she’s as tired as I’m pretending to be, she just nods. “Okay, well make sure you get some rest once you get to your room. Mama loves you.”
“I love you too,” I say.
I glance up at the hotel as we come to a stop in the drop-off area. Welp, here goes.
I keep my head down as I move through the lobby and into the elevator. I stand all the way in the back, behind a couple of mummies headed for the Department of the Dead. Once they’ve shuffled off into the gloom of the department’s lobby, I ask the elevator to give me a few minutes to think.
The second tryout is the Friday after next, meaning I’ve got about eleven days to learn as much as I can about Quinton and Maria’s disappearance before I have to prove myself again. It’s not a lot of time.
My usual doubts creep in but then so do Jayden’s words. I’ve been comparing myself to Quinton for too long. I passed the first tryout well enough, so why can’t I pass the second?
And maybe I’m capable of finding VanQuish too. It’s time I start believing in myself.
I think back on what I’ve learned so far: Moreau’s apprentice tried to trade Quinton and Maria for Moreau’s release and possibly the Black Book. But the Bureau refused, and Moreau’s apprentice started attacking the Bureau with hybrids, including that awful attack last night.
Moreau said the reason my brother was kidnapped was that he found something Moreau’s apprentice wanted—something Quinton shouldn’t have been looking for. And Lara said Maria was helping him, even though they weren’t partners anymore. But what did they find?
Our only clue? A calendar entry on Quinton’s computer from the night they went missing. Something about contacting KH and a meeting with Director Horus. Thankfully, the Director is supposed to return from the Wandering Isles today.
Seeing as I’ve got no clue what KH stands for, there’s really only one thing to do. “Take me to the Department of Good Fortunes and Bad Omens,” I tell Lucy.
“That department can only be visited by appointment,” she replies. “Would you like to schedule one?”
“I guess. When’s the soonest I can speak to Director Horus?”
“That would be the middle of next week,” says Lucy. “People tend to book up spots for readings in uncertain times such as these.”
“That long?”
“Afraid so.”
“Fine. Just tell him it’s really urgent.”
I take a second to shake out my nerves once the elevator arrives at the dormitories. The kids in the hallway just stare. I keep my eyes focused straight ahead until I get to my door.
But the second my hand hits the knob I hear, “Why are you here?”
I look up to find Lara and Kirsten coming up the hall.
“Same reason you are,” I say. “I’m going to be a Junior Agent, and I’m going to find my brother. And hopefully your sister too.”
“My sister doesn’t need any help from a Peters, got that?” Lara jabs a finger in my direction. “You just focus on your own dumb brother.”
I just shake my head and turn back to my door.
“Guess you thought those hybrid attacks last night were fair payback for that picture somebody left on your wall,” says Kirsten, crossing her arms.
I whirl back to face them. “Are you serious? I had nothing to do with that.”
“So you say,” says Lara.
“You’re being dumb,” I say.
Kirsten steps closer. “Watch your back, freak.”
I take a step back. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what it sounds like,” answers Lara.
“You three! Break it up!” calls Bertha from down the hall.
But I can’t let that be the end of it. I won’t let anyone intimidate me anymore. I look them both square in the eyes and say, “I’m not scared of you.”
“You should be,” spits Lara.
For as brave as I’m trying to be, the words still give me chills.
Elsie arrives at the dorm just before lights out only half awake. She texted me earlier to say she and her guardian were up all night volunteering to help those who were hurt in last night’s hybrid attacks. My best friend smiles, gives me a quick hug, and then falls over onto her bed fast asleep.
I had hoped to update her on what Dylan and I found on my brother’s computer, since I haven’t gotten the chance yet, but it’s clear she needs the rest.
Lights out comes and goes and I sit cross-legged on my bed with Noteworthy Agents: Heroics, Scandals & Everything in Between. I borrow Elsie’s sneakandle and put it right up against the wall, so its light won’t reach her. After reading VanQuish’s loooong entry near the end, I flip back a few pages and skim through Agent Magnus’s paragraph to find that his talent for being tough-skinned got enhanced to steel-skinned after touching the Crystal Ball. And Agent Fiona nearly caused an international incident when, as a Junior Agent, she greatly offended the Origami Hive Mind by insisting that scissors beats pape
r in a game of rock, paper, scissors.
The lightest knock—really more of a tap—sounds on my door. I slide out of bed, tiptoe across the room, and just barely crack open the door to have a look.
A pretty girl in a white flower tiara peeks through the sliver of doorway. “Hello, Amari. I’m here to escort you to the Department of Good Fortunes”—she grins wide—“and Bad Omens.” Her face falls.
“Really? I thought my appointment wasn’t until next week.”
“You’ve been granted a special ‘top priority’ appointment by the chief herself. Something about ensuring that your being here won’t bring doom and despair to the Bureau. . . . The usual. No biggie.”
“Oh, um, okay.” It sounds like a pretty big deal. “If I wan-ted to ask Director Horus something important, could I?”
“Of course,” she replies. “But maybe wait till the end so you don’t interrupt the show. Now get dressed. Oh, and bring your raincoat.”
“Why do I need a raincoat?”
“For the rain, silly!”
I close the door, a little dazed by the sudden turn my night has taken. In the closet, my favorite pair of jeans and the jet-black I Heart Books T-shirt Quinton got me last year are waiting for me. Matching black sneakers sit just below them. This must be what I’m meant to wear because there’s even a bright yellow raincoat with my moonstone badge attached to the front.
I dress quickly and turn off the sneakandle. In the hallway I get my first good look at my Junior Fortune-Teller escort. She’s wearing a fancy white dress that glows in various places.
“Cool dress,” I say.
“Isn’t it? I made it myself,” the girl replies. “The secret is to weave Christmas lights into the fabric.” She twirls and then curtsies. “The name is January. Very pleased to make your acquaintance.”
I try to return the curtsy, but it ends up being an awkward bow. January doesn’t seem to mind.
“Shall we?” she says.
As we move through the halls of the youth dormitories, more kids slip out of their rooms. One girl emerges with a purple velvet cape and crown. A boy skips into the hallway in a thick fur coat, a large pair of antlers perched atop his head.
