Magic's Most Wanted

by Tyler Whitesides

  I picked up the baseball, scooped up the atlas, and ran, not daring to look back for fear that Dad would see my tears.

  Chapter 25

  FRIDAY, MAY 15

  11:12 A.M.

  MASON’S NEIGHBORHOOD, INDIANA

  I was out of breath by the time I got to Carson Kilpack’s house. I hadn’t dared use the atlas to transport myself directly to my street. Hoping to throw off Magix’s trackers, I’d teleported myself from the prison to the far side of town and used the rest of my money for a bus ticket to get a few blocks from my neighborhood. I’d run the rest of the way, anxious to find out exactly what sort of present had caused such huge problems in our life.

  Carson was a friend of my dad’s. He lived just a few houses away from us, though Mom and I didn’t see him much anymore. I skipped up the front steps and rang the doorbell, following up with an impatient knock. A dog started barking inside, and the second the door cracked open, the furry pet burst through, jumping up on my leg, nipping at the large book of maps I had tucked under my arm. The dog was just a friendly little cocker spaniel, so I put my hand down and let him lick it.

  “Mason!” Carson Kilpack said from the doorway. “How have you been?”

  I must have grown in the last year, because I was almost as tall as he was. His sandy hair was longer than the last time I’d seen him, and he had a nice beard.

  He clapped his hands at the dog. “Back inside, boy.” The pet yipped once but obeyed, licking my leg once more before disappearing through the doorway.

  “My dad said you were keeping something for me,” I said, cutting straight to business. “A birthday present he wanted to give me?”

  He looked a little confused, and I felt my hopes falling. Maybe he’d forgotten about it. Or worse, what if he’d gotten rid of it?

  “Well, do you have it or not?” I asked impatiently.

  “I did,” he said. “But your mom was just here to pick it up less than a half hour ago.”

  “What?” I cried. Had she known Carson Kilpack was keeping the present all along? And if so, why had she waited until a half an hour ago to get it from him? On top of that, it was Friday morning. Wasn’t she supposed to be at work?

  I retreated from the Kilpacks’ front door without even saying goodbye. By the time I hit the sidewalk, I was headed for my house at a full sprint. I went straight for the garage, assuming that the front door would be locked, and I still didn’t have my key.

  I punched in the garage code and ducked inside as soon as the door was high enough, skipping up the stairs and bursting into the house.

  Wreckage was standing in the kitchen.

  He was wearing the same outfit from the High Line yesterday: black boots, yellow reflective crossing-guard vest, and dark welding mask. His gloved hand was clutching one end of that familiar red-white-and-blue jump rope. But the other end trailed out, tying up Wreckage’s two prisoners.

  My mom and Avery Lawden.

  They were seated on a pair of dining chairs that had been scooted back-to-back. The jump rope was wound tightly around both of them, securely lashing them in place. It was even wrapped over their mouths so they couldn’t shout a warning, although my mom seemed to be trying anyway.

  “Mason Mortimer Morrison,” said Wreckage in his raspy voice. “You have played right into my hands.”

  “The birthday present . . . ,” I muttered.

  “Yes,” said Wreckage. “We didn’t know where your father had hidden the reversal boon until you were kind enough to get him to blab about it.”

  “You were at the prison?” I said in disbelief. “Where?”

  “The Mastermind has eyes and ears everywhere,” said Wreckage. “Once we knew the location of your present, I sent your mother to collect it from Mr. Kilpack. I was lucky enough to find Miss Lawden here, interrogating her prime suspect—your mom.”

  I didn’t feel any anger toward Avery anymore. In fact, I was embarrassed that I ever had. It didn’t matter if she wasn’t a real detective. She was a smart kid. And my friend. I was the one who had messed everything up by going to the prison. Now everyone was in danger and Wreckage had my birthday present.

  “Where is it?” I asked boldly.

  “Oh, you mean this?” With his free hand, Wreckage reached into his vest and pulled out a small, thin box covered in green wrapping paper. “The Mastermind will be happy about this. But even happier about getting you.”

  “You don’t have me,” I said, raising my fists as if I might win in a fight against the burly man.

  “I think you’ll come willingly,” said Wreckage. “I can’t go back empty-handed. Either you’re coming with me or they are.” He tugged on his end of the jump rope, tightening the wraps around them.

  “Where will you take me?” I asked.

  “Somewhere safe,” he said. “No harm will come to you. I cannot make the same promise for your mother and friend.”

  What was I supposed to do? I looked at Avery for help. She always had good ideas. The girl’s eyes were big as she looked at me and then to the top of the refrigerator. I glanced over to see where she was drawing my attention.

  There, on top of the fridge, was a black top hat. It was resting with the brim up, and as I watched, a white rabbit popped out of the opening like a good old-fashioned magic trick.

  “Catch, kid!” Fluffball’s deep voice boomed across the kitchen as he pulled something from the hat and tossed it to me. It was an ordinary-looking clothes hanger, but I remembered from Fluffball’s list what it could do.

  I dropped the atlas I’d been toting under my arm and caught the hanger, throwing it end over end at Wreckage’s face. The masked supervillain was too fast, ducking as it whizzed over his head. But he must not have known what the hanger could really do. It came back like a boomerang, the hook catching the length of jump rope he was holding and slicing right through it.

  Wreckage grunted in anger as the ropes around his prisoners began to dissolve. I caught the boomerang hanger with one hand, pulling the baseball from my pocket.

  Wreckage’s short length of jump rope was growing again, and he whipped it toward me as I tossed the baseball over the kitchen counter. It landed next to the dishwasher, and I was suddenly standing over there as his jump rope wrapped around thin air.

  I dropped to my knees to take shelter behind the counter. I needed to reach the magic hat on top of the fridge. Pulling the newspaper from my back pocket, I held it up, rising slowly.

  “You can’t hide from me, boy!” Wreckage shouted. The end of his jump rope whipped out, shredding the newspaper in half and causing me to drop behind the counter again.

  So his welding mask would identify any boon I tried to use. And his reflective immunity vest would protect him from magical attacks. It was time to think of a new strategy.

  I opened the fridge and popped the top of an egg carton, grabbing three eggs in each hand. Then I sprang up from behind the counter, hurling them like little white bombs.

  A couple of them splattered across Wreckage’s chest, and he hesitated in confusion. Then I hit him in the welding mask, blurring his vision with drippy yolks.

  “Ha-ha!” Fluffball cackled from atop the fridge. “That’ll scramble his detector for a while!”

  My mom and Avery were almost free of the severed jump rope when I saw Wreckage reach into his vest once again. His gloved hand reappeared, the dreaded drumstick clutched tightly. Before I could shout a warning, he brought it down, sending a shockwave through my entire house.

  All of the windows in the house shattered immediately. In the cupboard, I heard plates and cups breaking, while a frying pan and a pot tumbled from the stovetop, cracking against the kitchen floor.

  I flew backward, slamming into the dishwasher and whacking my head so hard I saw stars.

  “Mason Mortimer Morrison!” shouted Wreckage.

  My head throbbing, I pulled myself up to see that Wreckage had taken a new position in the house. He had moved around the kitchen counter, opening the door
into the garage and standing in front of the doorway. My mom had retreated behind the dining table, but Avery hadn’t been so lucky. She was lashed up in the jump rope again, pinned under one of Wreckage’s muscular arms.

  “This is your last chance to surrender yourself,” he said. “It’s you or the girl. Choose!”

  “Wait!” I said, standing up slowly. “Leave Avery here. I’ll go with you.”

  “Mason!” she cried. “You can’t!”

  “Smart boy,” Wreckage said.

  “We’re so close to finding out the truth,” Avery continued. “If you go with him now, there’s no telling what he’ll do to you.”

  “He said he wouldn’t hurt me,” I said, moving cautiously toward the enemy.

  “Uh-huh,” said Fluffball. “I’m guessing he’ll buy you an ice-cream cone, too. NOT! He’s a bounty hunter, kid! You leave with him and we’ll never see you again.”

  I looked at Avery. “I’m sorry about what I said before. I should have listened to you. You’re a good detective, no matter what.”

  She shook her head. “That doesn’t matter anymore. You can’t go with him.”

  “I have to,” I said. “It’s the only way to keep the rest of you safe.”

  “That’s right,” coaxed Wreckage. “Just a few more steps and we—”

  There was a loud cracking sound, and Wreckage’s body jerked. Then he lost his balance, letting go of Avery, who staggered away. Wreckage fell forward, landing flat on his masked face, motionless.

  Hamid was standing in the doorway to the garage, still clutching the frying pan he’d used to knock out Wreckage.

  He looked at us with wide eyes. “That dude was a bad guy, right?”

  Chapter 26

  FRIDAY, MAY 15

  11:46 A.M.

  MASON’S KITCHEN, INDIANA

  “Hamid?” I cried. “What are you . . . How did you . . . ?”

  “I just clonked that guy on the back of the head!” he said. “That was like a video game! I came in all stealthy . . . The garage door was open. I heard signs of a struggle. Found this weapon on the floor.” He hefted the frying pan. “My heart was beating so fast, it was like my strength just leveled up. I went bam and smashed that supervillain. Critical hit. He’s out cold.” Hamid stretched out a toe and nudged Wreckage. “Are you guys okay?”

  I stood up and grabbed the top hat off the fridge, pulling Fluffball down with it. “Get me Avery’s credit card,” I said.

  Surprisingly, the rabbit didn’t argue. He ducked straight out of sight, returning a moment later with the card pinched between his two front paws.

  I stepped over to Avery, using the sharp boon card to slice away the coils of jump rope that held her. The severed parts began to dissolve while the rest shortened to the size of a normal jump rope, the end still lying across Wreckage’s limp hand.

  “Oh, Mason!” Mom said, coming around the dining table and pulling me into a hug. “I thought that piano lesson would never end!”

  “You know I don’t take piano lessons, right?” I asked, stepping away from her and glancing at her wrist. To my surprise, the bracelet was not there.

  “I cut it off when I first got here,” Avery explained. “Before Wreckage showed up.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “We’re storing the bracelet in the top hat for the moment,” said Fluffball.

  “It talks . . . ,” Hamid stammered, pointing a shaking finger at Fluffball. “The bunny talks!”

  “That’s rabbit to you, kid,” grumbled Fluffball.

  “I’m still getting used to it,” Mom said.

  Fluffball turned to me. “I was going to say that stinkiness runs in the family, but she actually smells quite nice.”

  “You’re not freaking out, Mom?” I asked.

  “Oh, I’m freaking out, all right,” she answered. “I’m just trying to keep it inside right now. Avery told me everything.”

  “And you believe it?” I said, not able to believe it myself.

  She sighed, shrugging her shoulders. “What choice do I have? I was completely convinced that you were at piano lessons for two days straight, had a conversation with a talking rabbit, reached into a bottomless top hat, got tied up by a magic jump rope, saw you teleport across the kitchen with a baseball, and had my house destroyed by a drumstick. I’d say I’m convinced that magic is real.”

  “Mason.” Avery’s voice caused me to turn. She was kneeling on the floor beside Wreckage. She and Hamid had rolled the big man onto his side, and I found myself staring at his black, egg-smeared welding mask. There was a face under that mask. If we learned the bounty hunter’s true identity, it might help lead us to the Mastermind.

  Avery reached out and pushed up the black face shield.

  “That’s . . . ,” I muttered, unable to finish.

  “Wreckage is Special Agent John Clarkston,” Avery whispered. She rocked back, sighing heavily. “I think we found the mole.”

  “You should call your dad,” I said. “Warn Magix.”

  Avery shook her head. “Not yet. Even if he believes me, the others won’t without proof.”

  “You could wear the truth shoe,” I said.

  “The truth shoe?” Mom questioned.

  Avery dug the shoe out of her top hat and held it up. “This old thing.”

  “How does it work?” Hamid asked.

  “Whoever is wearing it can only speak the truth,” I said.

  “No way!” the boy shouted. “Magic is soooo cool!”

  Avery turned on him, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. “What are you doing here, exactly?”

  “Knocking out bad guys,” he said proudly.

  Avery didn’t look convinced. “Unless you did that just to gain our trust.” She threw the shoe at his feet. “Put this on.”

  “What?” Hamid backed away from the shoe. “It doesn’t look like my size.”

  “It’ll still work,” I said. “Just do it, Hamid.”

  “So you can learn all my secrets?” He folded his arms defiantly. “No way.”

  “We won’t ask you anything embarrassing,” I promised. “It’s just to prove that you’re not working with him.” I gestured at the unconscious Wreckage.

  “How do I know I can trust you?” Hamid snapped.

  I sighed, slipping out of my own sneaker. We didn’t have time for this. The kid could be so stubborn sometimes. I jammed my foot into the truth shoe. “Ask me anything.”

  Hamid rubbed his hands together excitedly, but my mom beat him to it.

  “Did you get into my chocolate stash last week?” she asked.

  Mom had already asked me this question when she thought her supply looked lower than expected. I had denied it then, but with the truth shoe on . . .

  “Yes,” I said, swallowing hard at the admission. “I ate two mint truffles.”

  “Oh, you little . . .” Mom trailed off, preparing another incriminating question. “Do you ever drink straight out of the milk jug?”

  I flinched. She’d caught me doing it a few months ago, and I’d promised never to do it again. “At least once a day,” I admitted. “Usually with my snack when I get home from school, but sometimes at breakfast if you’re not looking.”

  “What about the collection of dried boogers that I found on the wall in the TV room?” Mom asked. “Did those really belong to Hamid?”

  “Hey! What?” Hamid shrieked.

  “No,” I answered, my cheeks turning bright red. “They were my boogers.”

  “One more question,” Mom said, her tone the most serious yet. “Do you really think your dad is innocent?”

  I took a deep breath. Of all the lies I’d told my mom, this one was the longest running. I think she’d given up on Dad when the therapist had told us to accept the truth. I didn’t like to talk about it, but whenever it came up, I just told my mom what she wanted to hear. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. But inside, I’d never given up on him. And with the truth shoe on my right foot, I couldn’t lie now.

  �
�Yes,” I said firmly. “I know Dad is innocent. They framed him for the bank robbery to stop him from giving me that present . . .”

  I trailed off, suddenly remembering the little green box Wreckage had taken. I dropped to one knee beside him, pulling open his reflective vest and seeing the present sticking out of his shirt pocket.

  I grabbed it, hands trembling. “Do you know what it is?” I asked my mom.

  “Yeah,” she said, giving me one of her sad smiles. The kind that seemed to say I love you, and I wish things were different.

  “I didn’t want him to give it to you,” Mom said. “That must have been why he asked Carson to hold on to it. So I wouldn’t find it and take it away before your big day. But I was wrong. You should have it.”

  Taking a deep breath, I peeled up the edge of the wrapping paper.

  Someone grabbed me from behind.

  I dropped the small box, shouting in surprise. Wreckage—Agent Clarkston—was awake. His dirty welding mask covered his face once more, and he’d taken advantage of my distraction to spring up and get me. Mom and Hamid screamed, and I saw Avery’s hand plunge into her top hat. But it was too late.

  With one arm clamped tightly around my middle, Wreckage used his free hand to hold up a Get Well Soon card. It had a cartoon drawing of a walrus with a box of tissues, and a thermometer dangling from his mouth.

  “That’s a boon!” I heard Fluffball warning. “If he opens the card—”

  Wreckage opened the card.

  Chapter 27

  FRIDAY, MAY 15

  11:53 A.M.

  ABANDONED WAREHOUSE, SOMEWHERE

  Wreckage and I were alone in a dim building. It looked like an empty warehouse, with only a row of small windows far overhead where the sunlight shone in, lighting up every particle of dust hanging in the air.

  The Get Well Soon card in the bounty hunter’s hand had obviously been some kind of transportation boon, immediately whisking the two of us out of my kitchen and depositing us here. Wreckage shifted slightly, tucking the card away. I took advantage of the moment to squirm against his grasp. I broke free, sprinting for the nearest door in the side of the warehouse. I’d only made it a few feet when something struck me in the back. I stumbled as a red-white-and-blue jump rope began to wrap itself around me. In a moment, my legs were lashed together and I fell, not able to catch myself, with the rope also pinning my arms to my sides.