Magic's Most Wanted

by Tyler Whitesides

  “Hold on.” My teacher raised a hand. “Magic? As in . . . magic?”

  “But magic’s not real!” called one of my classmates.

  “I’m gonna need everyone to keep their doubts and concerns to themselves,” the man said firmly. “None of you are even going to remember this, so don’t slow us down with your tedious and meaningless questions.”

  “That music box has been linked to one of the biggest magical crimes in recent years,” Nguyen continued. “We believe it was being used by a dangerous young criminal.”

  Criminal? Were they talking about me? No. That was a word my mom and I had heard a lot, but never about me.

  “Did any of you see the person who used this boon?” asked the man, pointing to the music box.

  “It was Mason Morrison!” shouted three of my classmates in unison, all fingers suddenly pointing in my direction.

  For the first time since their arrival, the adults in the gray suits got a good look at me.

  “That’s him, all right,” the man whispered under his breath. Then he stepped forward, pulling a pair of handcuffs from his jacket.

  “Mason Morrison,” he said, his voice gravelly. “We’re here to apprehend you for a major crime against magic.”

  Then he said those words. The words I hated.

  “You are under arrest.”

  Chapter 2

  WEDNESDAY, MAY 13

  2:21 P.M.

  MIDDLE OF NOWHERE, SAHARA DESERT, MAYBE

  Under arrest? But I hadn’t done anything wrong! Okay, so transporting my teacher and entire class to some of Earth’s most extreme climates might have been considered wrong, but it wasn’t my fault!

  I watched the big guy in the gray suit move closer, his feet churning through the loose desert sand, his top hat casting a shadow over his face.

  In that moment, staring at those silvery handcuffs, I had a crazy idea. I wondered if my dad had had a similar thought when the cops had surrounded him. He hadn’t been able to get away. But I had something magical lying right in front of me. . . .

  The man was almost to me when I leaped forward, snatched the music box out of the sand, and flipped open the wooden lid.

  At once, the orange desert disappeared as I was transported to a new environment. This time I found myself in a dense jungle, my wind-up song met with a chorus of chirping birds. Low-hanging vines drooped from towering moss-covered trees.

  As before, Mrs. Dunlow and my entire class were transported with me. And much to my disappointment, so were the two strangers in the gray suits and top hats.

  Basically, I was still in danger of being arrested. Only now it would happen in the jungle instead of the desert.

  But the teleportation had given me the element of surprise, and I took advantage of the man’s momentary confusion to take off running. I didn’t really have a plan as I leaped over a decomposing log, snapping the music box shut. All I could really think was, Don’t get arrested. Don’t end up like Dad.

  Maybe if I got far enough away from the others, the music box would transport me alone. I could keep opening it and shutting it until I landed somewhere I recognized. Preferably somewhere closer to Indiana.

  Damp ferns slapped my legs as I sprinted through the dim jungle. But I could hear the man in the gray suit running right behind me.

  “Mason Morrison!” he shouted. “Running will only make this worse. Surrender the boon and turn yourself in!”

  Yeah, right! I was obviously faster than this guy, and I could run longer than—

  I came to a screeching halt as I burst through the jungle trees and found myself at the top of a massive cliff. Far below, I saw a wide river tumbling along. In the movies, people always jumped, somehow landing safely in the water. In real life, that didn’t seem like such a good idea.

  I turned as the gray-suited man arrived at the edge of the trees, stopping just a few feet away from me. He raised his hands in a peaceful gesture, his top hat tilted slightly from his run.

  “My name is Special Agent John Clarkston,” he began. “I’m with Magix, Investigation Division. But you already know that.”

  “Nope. Never heard of it,” I answered.

  “Come on,” he said. “We both know that’s not possible. I want you to toss the music box toward me—slowly.”

  I clutched the small box with both hands. “And what if I don’t?”

  “You’re Magix’s most wanted criminal, Mason.”

  Most wanted criminal? This was nonsense!

  “Agent Nguyen and I are authorized to bring you in by any means necessary,” he said. “Obviously, I don’t want it to come to that. You’re just a . . . a kid.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said. “I didn’t even know magic was real until I started failing my book report.”

  “This is the end of the road, Mason.” Clarkston started reaching up for his top hat. “You’re coming back to Magix to face the consequences of your crimes.”

  “What if I come?” I asked. “What would you do with me?”

  “Honestly, there’s not much hope for you after what you did,” he said, slowly taking off his black hat. “I’d expect a life sentence.”

  Locked up forever? All because of my terrible book report? No way!

  I didn’t want to know how Special Agent John Clarkston planned to bring me in with force. I had a plan of my own. Risky? Yes. But any risk was better than getting taken in by the crazy magic police.

  “Sorry,” I said. “But you’ve got the wrong guy.”

  Then I jumped off the cliff.

  My plan was to get some distance between Clarkston and me, and then flip open the music box midfall. The music would start playing, the fox would chase the goose, and if all went as expected, I’d be safely transported to a new location before I hit the river.

  Unfortunately, things did not go as expected.

  The moment I dropped off the edge of that cliff, the wind whipped the music box right out of my hands.

  Plunging to my certain death, I let out a terrified howl. Just then, I saw Agent Clarkston leap over the edge and plummet rapidly toward me, his arms lowered to his sides. He gripped his top hat in one hand, and it flapped in the wind.

  He caught up to me in a flash, his left arm reaching around my middle. In total panic, I clung to him like he might be able to save my life, his top hat pressed against my chest.

  With his free hand, Agent Clarkston reached into the flapping hat and pulled something out.

  “Seriously?” I cried. “A pillowcase?”

  The fabric was pink, with little red hearts all over it. What good was that going to do us? There wasn’t even a pillow inside to pad our landing!

  Suddenly, the pillowcase filled with wind, billowing like a huge parachute. Our breakneck fall slowed and we were soon drifting peacefully downward, Clarkston somehow steering us gently toward the far bank of the river.

  We touched down ungracefully, tumbling onto the muddy ground. Clarkston recovered much quicker than I did. Before I could move, he pulled both of my arms behind my back, and I felt the cold steel handcuffs clipping into place around my wrists.

  “I told you running would only make it worse,” he said, stepping aside and tucking the pillowcase, which had returned to its regular size, back into his top hat. When his hand reappeared, he was holding a pair of tweezers. How much stuff did he store in that old-fashioned hat?

  “You didn’t happen to see where your boon landed?” he asked with a threatening tone.

  “If by boon you mean music box, then no,” I answered. “I’m guessing it landed in the river.”

  “I was afraid of that.” Clarkston sighed wearily. Then he held up the tweezers and spoke into the pointy end like it was a microphone. “Special Agent Nguyen, I have the suspect in custody. What’s your status?”

  To my surprise, the tweezers spoke back. The voice was crystal clear and obviously belonged to the woman who had arrived with Clarkston.

  “I made contact with
Magix Headquarters,” she answered through the tweezers. “I let them know that our brick archway was left behind in the Sahara. They’re working out a new rendezvous point with the Doorman. Stand by.”

  “I’m going after the music-box boon,” said Clarkston.

  “Negative,” answered Nguyen. “You can’t pursue the boon with a criminal in tow. Bring the boy up to me. We can send a recovery team back to the jungle once he’s properly locked up.”

  Clarkston fumbled in his top hat for a moment before retrieving a blue marker. “I can put him out.”

  “Negative, Clarkston!” Nguyen’s voice sounded more forceful this time. “If we’re right about him, this kid isn’t an ordinary criminal. He could be carrying immunity boons. Just bring him back to my location. Magix can deal with the music box later.”

  Clarkston looked downriver and grunted. “Understood.” He pulled off the marker’s cap. “But I’m still putting him out so he doesn’t try to escape.”

  “Do what you’ve got to do,” answered Nguyen.

  Clarkston lowered the tweezers and turned to me.

  “Put me out?” I asked. That didn’t sound too friendly.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “This shouldn’t hurt a bit.” He reached out with the marker and drew a blue line on my forehead.

  I tried to shout, “Hey! What was that for?” But the words came out all jumbled. I suddenly felt very sleepy, the sound of the rushing river soothing me.

  Then everything went black.

  Chapter 3

  WEDNESDAY, MAY 13

  4:53 P.M.

  INTERROGATION ROOM 6, MAGIX HEADQUARTERS

  I woke up slowly, my vision blurry as I blinked against the bright lights shining in my face. I tried to stand up, but apparently I was strapped into a chair.

  “Mason Mortimer Morrison,” spoke a bold, deep voice.

  “Who said that?” I mumbled, my tongue feeling as if it were wrapped in toilet paper. And how did they know my middle name? I guarded that secret with my life!

  “You are in a high-security holding room in Magix Headquarters,” said the voice. “My name is Director Frank Lawden.”

  My eyes had finally adjusted enough to see my surroundings a little better. The windowless room wasn’t very big, with cinder block walls and a low ceiling. There was a wide desk in front of me and a man sitting on the other side.

  He was thin, with dark skin and short black hair. His gray suit was even fancier than the ones Clarkston and Nguyen had been wearing in the jungle, but he didn’t have on one of those ridiculous top hats.

  “Do you know why you are here?” he asked.

  “Because I failed my book report?” I guessed.

  Lawden leaned forward. “How old are you, Mason?”

  “Twelve,” I responded. “No, thirteen.”

  “What, you’re not sure?” he asked.

  “Thirteen,” I stated. “I just had a birthday last week.” A boring one, with no friends and only two presents. But it was waaaay better than last year’s. “I’m still not used to saying it. But I’m thirteen.”

  He drew in a deep breath and shook his head. “That’s awfully young to find yourself at the top of Magix’s Most Wanted list.”

  “Sir,” I began, deciding to be polite and make my mother proud. “I think there’s been a terrible mix-up. I am not a criminal, and I don’t know anything about magic.”

  “Knowledge is power. Power is magic, Mr. Morrison,” said Lawden. “Did you, or did you not, use that music-box boon to transport your teacher and classmates to multiple locations across the globe?”

  “Well, yes,” I replied. “Apparently, I did. But I had no idea the music box would do anything . . . magical.”

  “You and I both know that’s impossible,” Lawden said, repeating almost the exact same words that Clarkston had said.

  “Why?” I begged. “Why is it impossible?”

  “It’s the most fundamental rule of magic,” he said. “Knowledge is power. Power is magic. You had to know that the music box was a boon in order to activate its magic.”

  “But I didn’t know!” I shouted. “I swear!”

  He rubbed his forehead as if to push back a headache that was coming on. “That’s not something we have to decide right now. Save it for the trial.”

  “Trial?” I squeaked. I had a lot of bad memories from my dad’s.

  “I’ll let you know what additional charges you’re facing for today’s little stunt,” he said. “You won’t have a lawyer, but you’ll be able to prepare a defense on your own, if you wish.”

  “What?” I cried. “No lawyer? That’s against the law!”

  “Forget what you think you know about the law,” he answered. “You’re with Magix now, and we do things our own way.” Mr. Lawden cleared his throat. “Four counts of unauthorized use of a magical boon.”

  “For opening a music box?” I yelped.

  “Four times,” Lawden answered. “Twenty-nine counts of Ignorant magical exposure.”

  “What does that even mean?” I asked.

  “One teacher and twenty-eight students witnessed the use of a magical boon today,” he said. “All of them were commoners with no knowledge of magic—Ignorants, as we call them. Which leads me to your next charge—endangering civilians.”

  “Where are they?” I asked, suddenly feeling a gut-wrenching nervousness that they’d been left in the jungle to be devoured by pythons.

  “Everyone is safe, no thanks to you. They’ve been returned to the school. I believe they’re preparing for a math test about now.”

  “What?” I shouted. “You expect them to just dive back into their studies like nothing ever happened?”

  “Luckily, what you did today was isolated and contained,” said Lawden. “We were successfully able to wipe all memories of the magical incident.”

  “You can do that?” I asked in amazement.

  “We’re an organization specializing in magical items,” he replied. “There is very little we can’t do.” He drummed his fingers on the desk. “And finally, the last charge—fleeing the scene of a crime.”

  “Huh?”

  “When you ran away from my agents,” Lawden clarified. “Which also led to defying arrest and endangering and injuring Magix agents.”

  “Who got hurt?” I asked, my stomach sinking in fear again.

  “Agent Clarkston stubbed his toe while landing the parachute pillowcase.”

  “A stubbed toe? He didn’t seem hurt to me.”

  “Clarkston filed the paperwork,” said Lawden with a half shrug. “He was pretty upset that you ditched the music-box boon in the river.”

  “Have they found it yet?” I asked.

  “Our people are on it.” Lawden remained expressionless.

  “What now?”

  “We’ll hold you here until the committee has a chance to review your case.”

  “How long will that be?”

  “We’re planning for seven o’clock this evening,” he said. “If you’re found guilty, we’ll deal with the consequences tomorrow morning.”

  “You’re keeping me overnight?” I gasped. “I haven’t spent a night away from my house in, like, three years. My mom is way too paranoid for that. She’s going to call the real police, and you guys are going to be in serious trouble.”

  “She thinks you’re at piano lessons,” answered Lawden.

  “She what?” I yelled. “Nothing you say makes sense. I don’t take piano lessons. Why would she—”

  “My agents located her shortly after you were brought in,” he cut me off.

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “What did you people do to her?”

  “We simply gave her a gift,” he said. “It’s a magical boon bracelet activated by Agent Nguyen. As long as your mother is wearing it, she wholeheartedly believes the last thing Agent Nguyen told her—that you are at piano lessons. The magic also establishes your mother as a reputable source to other Ignorants, who will believe the same thing without question.�
��

  I shook my head. “It won’t work. My mom hardly ever wears jewelry. She’ll take it off.”

  “Agent Nguyen also told her that the bracelet was lucky,” said Mr. Lawden.

  “My mom doesn’t believe in luck anymore.”

  “But you forget that the magic of the bracelet will force her to believe it,” said Mr. Lawden. “Besides, it’s quite true. As an Ignorant, your mother will benefit from the boon on her wrist. She’ll have a great time until you get home.”

  “So, you are planning to send me home?” I said hopefully.

  Mr. Lawden nodded. “Best-case scenario, you’re looking at ten years of limited Magix correction for today’s little escapade.”

  “Wait. You’re going to lock me up and let my mom think that I’m at piano lessons until I’m twenty-three?”

  “Oh no. That’s not how the system works.” Lawden shook his head. “We’re not talking about ten years of your future. We’re talking about ten years of your past.”

  My eyes bulged. “Hang on. . . . You’re going to turn me into a three-year-old?”

  Lawden wrinkled his forehead as if I’d just said something ridiculous. “A limited correction means we enter your memories from the last ten years and erase anything that could have led you to your first magic exposure. It’s not a very precise procedure, but we usually do our best not to interfere with fundamental memories.”

  “Umm . . . I don’t like this.”

  “Well, you should have thought of that before you began your life of crime,” said Lawden. “Because I’m telling you—it doesn’t look good.”

  “I’d say! Ten years of patchy memories?”

  “Remember, that was the best case. I expect it to be much worse when the committee considers your previous crime.”

  “Previous crime?” I squeaked.

  “The committee has evidence linking you to one of the most significant crimes in Magix history.”

  “What? No!” I cried. “I didn’t—”

  “Save it for the committee,” he answered, rising abruptly from his chair. “Look, Mason. The entire Magix organization exists to uphold goodness in the world. We’ll treat you fairly and kindly, even if you are our enemy.”