The Missing Magic

by Kallie George

  ALSO BY KALLIE GEORGE

  The Magical Animal Adoption Agency, Book 1: Clover’s Luck

  The Magical Animal Adoption Agency, Book 2: The Enchanted Egg

  Text copyright © 2016 by Kallie George

  Illustrations copyright © 2016 by Alexandra Boiger

  Cover illustration © 2016 by Alexandra Boiger

  All rights reserved. Published by Disney • Hyperion, an imprint of Disney Book Group. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. For information address Disney • Hyperion, 125 West End Avenue, New York, New York 10023.

  ISBN 978-1-4847-0122-5

  Visit www.DisneyBooks.com

  Contents

  Title Page

  Also by Kallie George

  Copyright

  Dedication

  1: Oliver the “Expert”

  2: Reckless with Relics

  3: Sir Walter Windsmith

  4: A Sword and a Suitcase

  5: The Strange Symptoms

  6: The Vet’s Visit

  7: Pills and Powders

  8: Quarantined!

  9: Only Ashes

  10: Just Before Beyond

  11: Clover’s Curse

  12: Moonbeams and Dragons

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author and Illustrator

  To T and Marie

  —K.G.

  To you, dear Reader

  —A.B.

  Sweet things are for sharing. Picture postcards. Cozy cuddles. Cupcakes so fluffy they float.

  Over the summer, Clover had shared all of these: postcards with her friend Emma, who was away at Pony Camp; cuddles with Dipity, her green kitten; and cupcakes at a picnic with leprechauns, giants, and a ghost.

  But the sweetest thing in Clover’s life couldn’t be shared with anyone—well, anyone non-magical, that is. It was the secret of the Magical Animal Adoption Agency, hidden in the Woods and filled with unicorns, fairy horses, and even an invisible flying puppy!

  Mr. Jams had entrusted her with the secret. He owned the Agency and had hired her as a volunteer at the start of the summer. Mr. Jams said that oftentimes non-magical people didn’t know how to deal with magic, and so that was why Clover couldn’t write to Emma about it or tell her parents. They knew that she was working at an animal adoption agency, and that was it. Sometimes she wished she could tell them. Mostly she was happy enough to keep the secret to herself.

  Now, however, there was someone she had no choice but to share the Agency with—and having him around was anything but sweet.

  Oliver Von Hoof was a magical animal expert. He had written the volume on enchanted eggs in the Magical Animal Encyclopedia, as well as two other volumes, even though he was only slightly older than Clover. Mr. Jams had invited him to examine a giant spotted egg at the Agency, but it had hatched before he arrived. Inside was Picnic, the invisible puppy. Mr. Jams had insisted Oliver stay, so he could observe the puppy and work on a new book about invisible animals.

  “Plus he’ll be able to lend a hand,” Mr. Jams had added.

  So far, though, he wasn’t helping at all.

  Clover and Oliver were in the tack room, where the stables’ supplies were kept, getting ready to start a new task. Mr. Jams had asked them to polish the unicorns’ horns while he minded the front desk.

  “Can you pass me a bottle of stardust?” Clover asked. “And one bottle of moonbeams? Mr. Jams said we have to mix them together to make the polish.”

  Oliver wasn’t listening. He was scribbling words in his notebook. “Out-of-sight canines are usually winged….” He paused. “Hmm…‘out-of-sight’ is not right, is it? I suppose I could use ‘invisible’ again, but I’ve used it fifty-seven times in the first chapter alone.”

  “Oliver, the stardust and moonbeams!” prompted Clover.

  Oliver set down his notebook and pushed his glasses up his nose. “Did you say something?”

  “Ugh,” groaned Clover, getting the ingredients herself.

  The stardust was easy to spot, twinkling brightly on the shelf just above the bridles.

  The bottles of moonbeams, however, were harder to find, packed away in a dusty box. They glowed in varying degrees that matched their labels—from bright FULL MOON to pale CRESCENT.

  One bottle shone with a slightly blue tinge, like a pool of clear water. BLUE MOON, its label read. Clover had never heard of a blue moon before. “Is that even a real thing?”

  “Why, of course,” said Oliver, who was now peering over her shoulder. “It is the second full moon in a single month, which is rare but predictable, if you are able to do the calculations, of course.”

  “Oh,” said Clover. She wondered how the beams were collected. Oliver probably knew, but she didn’t want another lecture.

  So, instead of asking, she took a bottle of crescent moonbeams, which was the type Mr. Jams said they needed, from the box. Then she found a spoon and wooden bowl, crusted with sparkles, for mixing the polish. The cork on the stardust was stuck in tight. But Oliver was writing again and was too absorbed to notice her struggling with it.

  Before Clover could remind him that he was supposed to be helping her, the bell in the front room rang. “Package here!” came the friendly voice of Cedric, the delivery-man (well, delivery-centaur, to be specific). “Package for Oliver Von Hoof!”

  “I guess Mr. Jams has stepped away from the front desk,” Oliver said, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I’d better go get the package. It is for me.” He gathered his notebook and quill. “I wonder what it could be.”

  “But…” started Clover, still trying to remove the cork, “what about…?”

  “Don’t fret. I’ll return soon.” And with that, Oliver was gone.

  Clover couldn’t believe it. He had gotten out of helping again. Yesterday had been the same. They were supposed to clean the big tank to prepare for the arrival of a hippocampus, a half-horse, half-fish creature. But just at the hard part—pouring the water in—he disappeared because he remembered a vital fact he had to add to his book. And he hadn’t returned. This time he’d better, thought Clover. She tugged at the cork.

  POOF!

  Out it came—and a cloud of stardust billowed out too, covering her dress.

  She sighed as she brushed it off as best she could.

  Luckily, the cork on the moonbeams slipped free easily. As Clover stirred the two ingredients together, lumps of stardust melted, and so did her annoyance. After all, how many times had she wished upon stars that she could be with animals? And now here she was, working with magical animals—and actually touching bits of stars! She couldn’t stay upset when she thought about that.

  At last the polish was ready. With a rag and the bowl of paste in hand, Clover headed out of the tack room to begin the actual work.

  However, polishing the first unicorn’s horn proved impossible! Plum (or Sugar-plumsy-Wumsy, as he had been named by the princess who’d owned him) wouldn’t lie down or stay still, and he kept trying to eat the rag. So instead of polishing his horn, Clover filled up his bucket with a generous helping of hearty oats and moved on to Sunny’s stall.

  Trying to polish Sunny’s horn was impossible too. Sunny (or Smoochie-Coochie Sunshine) was an especially small unicorn with long eyelashes. Supposedly the princess who had owned him had tried curling them and poked one of Sunny’s eyes. The minute Clover brought the rag up to Sunny’s horn, his left eye began to fill with tears. Whether it was from some stardust that got into it or out of fear, she didn’t know. But she couldn’t possibly polish his horn if it upset him so.

  “There, t
here,” she said, gently patting his nose until he calmed down.

  Where is Oliver? Clover wondered. He should be back by now. Cedric liked to chat, but it shouldn’t take that long to get mail from him.

  With a sigh, she moved on to Tootsie.

  Tootsie (or Tootise-Wootsie Wugums) was triple trouble! Her horn was ticklish, and every time Clover touched it with the rag, Tootsie shook it. On the third try, the horn missed Clover by inches, and she jumped back just in time. The bowl of polish slipped from her hands and landed upside down on the stall floor in a sparkly, gucky mess.

  “Ugh!” cried Clover. “I can’t do this by myself!” Oliver wasn’t getting out of helping this time.

  She scooped up as much of the polish as she could and set the bowl down outside the stall. After giving Tootsie’s nose a pat, she closed the stall gate. Then she stormed out of the stables and into the main hall of the Agency. She was about to call for Oliver when she heard voices coming from the small animals’ room.

  She could hear Oliver, Mr. Jams, and someone else too—a girl!

  Oliver was helping. He was helping with an adoption!

  The door to the small animals’ room was slightly ajar, and Clover peered in.

  Mr. Jams, Oliver, and a girl around Clover’s age stood in front of the magic kittens’ cage. Mr. Jams had his back to the door, and Oliver and the girl were facing Clover, but they were busy talking and didn’t seem to notice her.

  The girl looked like a witch, with pointy boots and a dress patterned with bats and spiders. Her long black hair was streaked with purple and fell across one eye. She kept flicking it away with a toss of her head as she smiled up at Oliver and then down again at the kitten he was holding awkwardly in his arms.

  “Now, Oliver, describe the kitten to the young lady,” said Mr. Jams.

  Clover felt a twinge of jealousy. Mr. Jams was teaching Oliver to do an adoption. Sure, Clover wanted Oliver to help out with the chores, but adoptions were different. They were her job, and she was good at them. She didn’t need help with those.

  “This feline has a unique and rare magical ability—ocular glaciation,” said Oliver.

  Ocular glaciation? Clover rolled her eyes. Why not just say the kitten shoots freeze rays?

  But the young witch seemed impressed. “That’s wicked!” she giggled, reaching out to pet Blizzard’s tiny black head. “I’ve started a lemonade stand, and Blizzard could help me keep the cups chilled. Oh, Ollie, I think he’s perfect! You don’t mind if I call you Ollie, do you?”

  “Oh, bother,” Clover muttered under her breath.

  She didn’t want to overhear any more of this adoption. But she didn’t want to go back to polishing horns either, at least not until she got some help.

  Then she turned and saw the steps up to the tower. And she had an idea.

  In all the weeks Clover had worked at the Agency, she’d never been up to the tower. She knew it was where Mr. Jams lived, and now Oliver too. But there were no animals there, and everything for the animals’ care was on the main floor, so she’d never needed to go up. Plus Mr. Jams hadn’t invited her. And it hadn’t mattered. Now, somehow, it did.

  If Oliver was receiving deliveries at the Agency, surely that meant he wasn’t planning on leaving any time soon. What was in the parcel? she wondered. She had to know.

  And so, after shaking off as much of the stardust from her dress as she could (she didn’t want to leave a glittery trail), she began tiptoeing up the tower steps. Behind her, she heard a mew. It was Dipity, glaring up at her from the bottom of the stairs, as though he knew just what she was about to do.

  Clover frowned. “Shoo,” she told her kitten.

  But Dipity didn’t listen. Dipity never listened. Instead he sat there, his tail flicking.

  So Clover kept going and was pleased when Dipity joined her on the steps, padding alongside. The staircase spiraled around and around, at last ending in a circular landing with a rug and three doors. Two of the doors were open.

  The room to Clover’s right was a bathroom, with toothbrushes sticking out of an empty jam jar, towels on the floor, and an old toaster instead of a mirror propped up in front of the sink, one of its shiny sides facing out.

  The next was clearly Mr. Jams’s room. It was a mess. Clover could see papers, books, and clothes piled everywhere. The only form of organization seemed to be empty jam jars—which held everything from socks and ties to butter knives and buckles. There were even things stuffed under the bed, including something that glinted. Clover bent down and saw it was a knight’s helmet. This was the second object related to knights she’d found in the Agency. There was a sword in the front room too.

  “Why does Mr. Jams have a helmet? And a sword?” wondered Clover aloud. “Do you know?” she asked Dipity.

  But her kitten was gone. He had moved on to the final room, and Clover did too, cautiously pushing its door open.

  The room was filled with books—too many for Oliver to have brought here himself. There were some books downstairs, but nothing like this. It must be Mr. Jams’s private library, thought Clover. In between the shelves, there was just enough space for a desk and a cot. But he wasn’t just sleeping there; he had practically moved in! Eggs—or at least images of them—were everywhere.

  Spotted eggs patterned the blanket on the tiny cot, and the pillow was shaped like an egg. Beside the cot was a desk with all the volumes of the Magical Animal Encyclopedia, a jar of wands, a pile of papers held down by an egg-shaped paperweight, and an inkwell that seemed to be made from an eggshell.

  Dipity jumped onto the desk and began to play with a feather that was bookmarking one of the encyclopedias while Clover turned her attention to the box that had been delivered by Cedric. It was beside the desk, and marked SPECIAL DELIVERY! FRAGILE!

  The box was open, but only the first item was unwrapped. Oliver must have just started looking through the contents when the witch arrived.

  Clover picked up the first object.

  It was a set of tiny antlers. FROM A PETRIFIED JACKALOPE, read its tag.

  She had met a creature with antlers like these! Lulu the leprechaun had an invisible bunny with them. Oliver had examined it—by touch only, of course—before Lulu left on a family trip.

  What else might I find? Clover wondered, pushing back some of the tissue paper.

  Alongside the antlers, there was a giant fossilized footprint as big as a dragon’s, a patch of fur that disappeared when it was held up to the light, a see-through scale from a “polo serpent,” and, last but not least, a collar with a tag that said it belonged to a shadow-creature.

  These must be relics from invisible animals, thought Clover, to help Oliver with his book. But what’s the point of him staying here if he needs everything sent to him?

  She was checking the box again, to make sure she hadn’t missed anything, when something tucked in the bottom corner caught her eye. It was a glittering chain with a charm in the shape of a sun. It wasn’t even wrapped. She took it out. Usually, Clover didn’t care much for jewelry, but the chain felt good between her fingers, smooth and cool, and the sun charm was very pretty, like a piece of honey-colored glass.

  Clover knew she should put it back, but she hesitated. Oliver probably wouldn’t wear a necklace—especially one that wasn’t egg-shaped. And it seemed like it was in the box by mistake….I’ll just wear it for a moment, she thought.

  The chain was too small to go over her head, but there was a clasp, and it was easy to undo. The charm was smooth and cool against her skin. She liked wearing it. I’ll put it back last, she thought, and she began repacking the relics.

  Clover was almost done when she noticed a piece of paper that she had missed before, tucked in among the tissue. Her eyes read it before her heart told her not to.

  Dear Oliver,

  Mother told me of your interest in invisible animals. Does that mean you will be writing another one of your books? If so, I do hope this one is significantly shorter.

  The
museum was going to put this box of relics into storage, but, since I’m the curator and can do such things, I decided to send it to you instead. No need to thank me.

  I hear you will be staying on at the MAAA. Good luck with your interactions with the animals. Try not to get eaten.

  Your brother,

  Barnaby Von Hoof

  P.S. Did you hear? I was recently awarded my sixth scholarship from the Royal Claw and Tooth Society!

  Ugh! Oliver’s brother sounded even more annoying than he was!

  Clover tucked the letter back in the box. “Okay,” she said to Dipity. “Time to go.” She stood up. And then she remembered the necklace. Even if no one would miss it, it wasn’t hers. She was about to take it off when…

  “Go?” said a familiar voice behind her. It was Mr. Jams. “But what are you doing here, Clover?”

  Clover’s face burned. She quickly hid the charm under her dress, where the key to the Agency hung as well. Then she slowly turned around to face Mr. Jams and Oliver, who were standing in the doorway.

  “I thought you were in the stables, polishing the horns?” Mr. Jams said, tugging at his beard.

  “I was, but…” started Clover.

  “Oh, hornswaggle!” said Mr. Jams, shaking his head and glancing at Oliver. “I had asked you both to do the job, hadn’t I? I didn’t mean to steal Oliver away, but an opportunity presented itself.”

  “I was doing an adoption,” Oliver, beaming, told Clover. “And it went splendidly. Although I really do need to fix the mistakes on the forms. Two spelling errors.”

  Mr. Jams chuckled. “Come, come. I was going to find that balm for you. Ocular glaciation can cause a nasty burn.”

  “It’s nothing, really,” said Oliver, but Clover saw, with some satisfaction, a red patch on his hand. She wouldn’t have gotten burned by Blizzard.