by Elena Paige
“So do I get to be Strebor Junior then?” said Toby.
“Absolutely!” said his father, winking at him.
Toby felt a tap on the shoulder. Abby was standing there with her doll under her arm. Her normal soft expression covered her face. “I’m sorry about today. It was like I was under a trance or something. Grandma said Mr. Kirby used a spell on me. It wasn’t me, I swear it. I would never do things like that.” She looked at her doll and curled its hair between her fingers nervously.
“I knew he must have done something to you. I forgive you, Abby. Hey, maybe we can play with those living dolls of yours sometime.”
“Really? You mean it?” said Abby, flinging herself onto him. He let her hug him.
“This year's convention has come to a close, and I think given the events of the day, we should all be getting home,” said Florence Inkwell, ushering them all out.
As everyone cleared out of the room, Toby stayed behind with Thatch and Wesa.
“I can’t believe we’re related. That’s so weird,” said Toby.
“It’s wonderful,” said Wesa, beaming. “Toby. I can’t thank you enough for saving me today.”
Toby felt his face grow warm. He was proud of himself for protecting his friends.
He reached into his pocket and handed the item he pulled to Thatch.
“My card deck! How did you get them from your house?”
“Magic! And you’re welcome,” said Toby, so relieved this day was done and everyone was safe.
“Dad says I might be able to go to the Academy this spring. Me! Attending the Magicians’ Academy!” said Thatch. “I’ll never have to be security again!”
“I suppose I’ll have to go too then,” said Wesa, shrugging. “Time to embrace my magic, I think. Thatch? Do you know what magic you have? Are you a mage after all?”
Thatch smiled so wide it seemed his face would split in half. “All this time when I was levitating things and moving stuff—it was me! I was really doing that. It wasn’t just an illusion. Check this out.”
Wesa screamed as she and Toby lifted off the ground. Toby enjoyed swimming through the air and doing somersaults. “Neat trick, Thatch. You guys are lucky you have cool powers. Mine is pretty boring in comparison.”
“I’ll swap if you like,” said Wesa as her feet touched back onto the carpet. Wesa threaded her arms through Thatch’s and Toby’s and walked them out. “So when we’re old, you’ll still be young. That will be strange.” She smiled at Toby.
“But we’ll be friends forever,” said Thatch, grinning at them both.
27
The Letter
Toby sat at his desk reading the email again. Thatch had written with so much exciting news. He had been granted special permission to perform a magic show before the Council and had been accepted into the Magicians’ Academy. How lucky Thatch and Wesa are to attend a school of magic , thought Toby, feeling pangs of jealousy. Young magicians from all around the world attended the Academy for one month every year until their eighteenth birthday. There they learned the art of illusion.
Thatch, now reunited with his mother (who’s real name was Tessa), was describing to Toby how wonderful she was. Toby felt another pang of jealousy, thinking of his own mother in comparison. She had left, thinking she had killed him. Her last words were that she loved him. Despite all that she’d done, he couldn’t help wondering whether she had meant it.
Toby opened the attachment to the email and saw Thatch’s lavish new house in London. Now that his father didn’t have to pretend to be a poor security man anymore, they had all moved in together. He noticed Elouise looking withdrawn in the picture and wondered how she was coping after having lost her mage power to his mother.
A week had passed since the convention. Toby had gone back to his normal life. He missed Wesa and Thatch. They were his only friends, and given what they’d been through together, he felt a strong bond with them. It felt strange not having them around.
Grandpa told him the Kirby triplets and the two magicians they had turned into frogs had been transformed back to their human form. The Kirbys’ powers could not be returned to them as his mother had taken them.
Toby imagined the Kirbys without powers and smiled to himself. It seemed the perfect punishment given their obsession with ridding the world of illusionists. Now that was all they were.
The Fiordi hat was safely hidden, but it was still bound to her. Only if she died would the powers return to their original owners. He couldn’t help wondering where she was and if she knew he was still alive. Would she try again to take his power? He shuddered, thinking of facing her again.
Toby was still getting used to the idea of not only being a magician, but being a mage. There were still so many things he didn’t know or understand. Like why he had the same power as his dad? What caused his mother to become so greedy for power? What had happened all those years ago between them?
But he didn’t want to burst his happiness bubble yet. His dad was alive and living with him now. Kirby had begrudgingly gone before the Council and proven his dad’s innocence.
The Council, of which he was originally president, had forced him to withdraw from his position but declared him free. It made Toby so mad to think that Alexander Kirby was allowed to walk free despite all the lives he’d taken. The Magical Council had decided losing his power was punishment enough. Toby didn’t agree.
On top of that, they had forbidden him from ever performing publicly again. Toby’s dad, on the other hand, was now free to return to the stage as the famous Strebor.
Toby held his wand, feeling the cold of the ebony in his hands. He could feel its power bound to him. The wand would only work for him. He was so glad he was allowed to keep it, as were Wesa and Thatch.
The doorbell rang, startling him out of his thoughts. Toby closed his laptop and dropped the wand next to it. He ran to get to the front door first.
Succeeding, Toby opened the red door. It was the postman.
“Who is it?” asked Jack, coming up behind him.
“Postman, Dad.”
“I don’t think we were expecting anything.”
Toby took the large package from the postman.
“A Toby Roberts needs to sign for this,” said the postman, offering his electronic device toward them.
“Me?” Toby looked at his dad, confused.
Jack shrugged his shoulders at his son. “If it has your name on it, then it must be for you. Don’t look at me. I’ve nothing to do with this. ”
Toby signed and then closed the door, carrying the package into the lounge room.
“Grandpa! Come see what’s arrived. Hurry,” he called with no clue whatsoever what was in the package.
“Open it!” said Jack, his voice filled with excitement.
Grandpa walked into the room. “What’s this?”
“Package. For me. I’ve no idea what it is. Did you two send me this?”
“I promise we didn’t,” said Grandpa.
Toby ripped the bright yellow paper. There was no return address or clue of who sent it. Only his own name and address in bold black letters were on it. Inside the package was yet another package, wrapped in black paper this time. A letter sat atop it. In the corner of the letter, The Magicians’ Academy was printed.
Toby’s hands started to shake. Could it be? He ripped the letter open and read it aloud.
“Dear Master Toby Roberts, you are cordially invited to attend the Magicians’ Academy for training.”
“I can’t believe it!”
“Keep reading,” urged his dad.
“You will not be required to perform your magic in order to secure your position. You have already been accepted. Enclosed is your uniform and hat. Your training begins on the first of August and ends on the thirty-first of August. We look forward to seeing you and commencing your formal training as a magician. Yours sincerely, The Council.”
Toby’s hands were shaking so much he dropped the letter. Without even looking up, he rippe
d open the black package to reveal black pants and a T-shirt that were clearly oversized for him. There was also a black magician’s hat that looked like a steamroller had flattened it.
“What good are these?” he said, disappointed with his package.
“Ah. You’ve forgotten that this is a magical school. Go ahead and try them on,” said Grandpa.
Toby pulled off his own jeans and T-shirt right there and pulled on the black pants and T-shirt. He felt rumbling all around him as though the clothes were coming to life. He should have guessed there was magic involved. First, the pants and T-shirt became so tight he could hardly move; then they relaxed into the perfect position. Not too tight, not too loose. He placed the flat black hat on his head, guessing what it would do next. True to his imagination, it popped upward, revealing a fully formed top hat, which squeezed around his head, the suction gripping itself to him.
“It’s black. Not gold and not purple?” he said, hoping for an explanation.
“The Academy is a neutral space. It is for the training of performers. You will learn the best illusions there. No real magic is allowed. Real magic means an instant dismissal at the Magicians’ Academy,” warned Jack.
“Really? No real magic? But I get to go, right? Me. Toby Roberts gets to attend the Magicians’ Academy!”
“Yes, you do. Yes, you do. Well done, my boy.” Grandpa shook his hand enthusiastically.
“Yes, well done, Tobs. I did have to pull some strings to make it happen, but my son deserves the chance to be a magician. If it’s really what you want. You can still be a mage and not be a magician, you know. You did just find out about this world. There’s no hurry to be a part of it, if it’s not your thing.”
“Jack’s right. You can say no,” said Grandpa.
“No? No way! There’s no way I’m missing out on this chance. Plus, I get to see Thatch and Wesa!”
Toby ran to his bedroom so full of excitement he could burst. He was going to attend the Magicians’ Academy and be trained as a real performing magician.
He couldn’t wait to email Wesa and Thatch and tell them. He couldn’t wait to see the looks on their faces when he turned up at the Academy later that year. Where was the Academy located, he wondered? Who else would be there? Was he good enough to be a magician?
He casually looked out his window. Mrs. Inkwell’s house was back to normal now. It was no longer a secret passageway into a secret event. He could see her gardening in the front yard.
He noticed she was talking to someone beside her. He tried to get a better view, but the banksia tree was blocking his view. He caught sight of long blonde hair.
It must be Abby , he thought. But she seemed shorter than Abby was. As though the girl talking to Mrs. Inkwell could hear his thoughts, she turned toward him and moved into his line of vision.
“Iriana? Mother?” What was she doing in plain sight across the street? And why was she talking to Mrs. Inkwell?
He blinked, confused by what he saw. His pulse quickened. When he looked again, she had vanished.
Maybe he really was hallucinating this time? Mrs. Inkwell continued to dig in her garden as before .
He hugged his letter to him. He needed to forget his mother for now and move on with his life. No doubt he would cross paths with her again. But right now he wouldn’t let her take away his happiness. His father was alive. Grandpa was alive. He himself was alive. It was a good day.
TURN THE PAGE AND KEEP READING….
You can wait for The Magicians’ Academy
(book 2) due out in 2020, OR…
You can keep reading the Prequel book to find out how Jack Roberts became The Greatest Magician … Now available FREE at www.ElenaPaige.com
But before you go…
Turn the page and read the first three chapters now….
THE GREATEST MAGICIAN
PROLOGUE
The tall, lean man held his face in his hands. “How could you do this to me?”
As his knees hit the pristine polished floorboards, his tears followed suit. He felt his beating heart slow down from the pain and anguish in his chest. He was the greatest magician of all time. He had everything. Fame. Fortune. Freedom. Yet in this moment he felt hollow inside.
He willed himself up, knocking over the long, black sculpture on the glass coffee table beside him. It startled him out of his thoughts. He doubled back and caught the statue before it hit the floor. As he cleared the lump in his throat, he moved his trembling fingers up and down the cold statue. Hands outstretched, the statue of the magician looked back at him, so proud and happy. It was a replica of himself, and yet he felt nothing like the statue he was holding. It took all his strength to look back up. “Why?” he whispered, barely parting his lips, now wet with tears .
“This is so typical of you, Jack,” his wife said. “Always making everything about you. I’m finally doing what makes me happy.”
He felt the emptiness of his wife’s words strike him, like a slap to the face.
“Just tell me why! You at least owe me that!” he yelled. He could feel himself shaking from the inside out.
“You never have time for me and Toby. You’re always too busy being the famous magician,” said Agatha. She took a few defiant steps away from him and crossed her arms.
Jack’s emotions threatened to drown him. “And if I give up being a magician?” It took all his strength to force the words out. “Will you stay then?” He placed the statue he was holding back on the glass table, simultaneously taming his internal shaking.
“No,” she said, raking her long black hair with her fingers. “It’s too late. You love magic more than me. I know that now.” She took a few steps toward him, reaching her hand out. Her face looked softer than her harsh words. “I’m sorry. I tried, but it’s too late.”
Jack watched through blurred vision as she moved toward the front door of their apartment. She hesitated, wiping her glistening green eyes. “Goodbye, Jack.”
“Agatha!” called Jack. He fell to his knees again as the door slammed shut. His intake of breath was so sharp his lungs ached. But before the full impact of his grief could be felt, he spluttered in shock. The front door of his apartment opened once more, letting in a gust of air.
Expecting it to be Agatha returned, he lost his balance and fell backward onto the black leather couch. He scanned the room. There was no one there. “Is that you, Agatha?” he called. He hoped she had changed her mind. But the door hung open wistfully with no one in sight.
His eyes darted nervously to the large floor-to-ceiling window that spanned the entire space of the room. It was dark outside now, and the city lights shone through his high-rise apartment. The hairs on his neck prickled. Someone had entered the room. He could feel it. He willed himself up, walked toward the door, and slammed it.
“Who are you, and what do you want?” he said, looking into the empty space.
But it didn’t remain empty for long.
Jack covered his mouth. His eyes grew wide. He swallowed deeply. A boy, no older than ten, began appearing out of thin air. First his legs. Then his torso. And finally his freckled face and fire-red hair. Jack was no stranger to magic, yet it surprised him nonetheless.
“I’m sorry to bother you, sir. I didn’t know what else to do,” said the boy, breathing heavily.
“Who are you? What are you doing here?” said Jack. He wiped the dried tears from his face and composed himself.
“I’m Rufus . . . Rufus Kirby.” His body tremored.
Jack squinted and pursed his lips as he heard the last name of the boy who stood before him. “What do you want here?”
“I have a letter. I think it’s written to your wife. I followed her here.” The boy held his hand out and offered the letter to Jack. His head hung low, and he avoided eye contact with him.
Jack felt his heart beat increase. A letter? He eyed the boy before him. Despite his young age, he was immaculately dressed. He looked genuine. Jack hesitated before he slowly took the letter a
nd sat down on his sleek black sofa.
It was clearly addressed to Agatha Roberts. He turned it over. It was written by Alexander Kirby. He paused, biting his lip. He hadn’t seen Alexander in years. Not since he was a boy really. Nor had Agatha. Why was Alexander sending a letter to her? He looked up at Rufus, his eyes full of questions. “What is this letter about?”
“I think you ought to read it, sir. It’s about your wife, Agatha,” said the boy, half choking as he said the name.
Jack looked at the letter as though it were a wild animal about to bite. He paused, taking in a long breath. Bracing himself for the worst, he pulled the letter from the envelope, unfolding it. He read the words on the page greedily. Warmness rushed to his face. The severity of the words affected him like a poison. As blood coursed to his head, he thought for a moment he might faint.
“Have you read this?” Jack breathed heavily, feeling only compassion for Rufus now. A ten-year-old ought to not have to read a letter like that from his own father , he thought. But his compassion was nothing compared to his rage.
“Yes, sir. I have,” said Rufus, still standing as tall and straight as a board.
“You’re absolutely sure your father wrote this?” He swallowed hard. “To my wife?”
“I’m sorry, sir. But I also need to save my mother. I brought it to you first. I thought it was the right thing to do,” said the boy, as his body partially disappeared.
Jack calmed himself a little. “Yes. Yes, thank you. You did the right thing. I will handle this. ”
“Will you stop them? Stop them from killing people?” said Rufus. His body re-appeared fully and he stared down at the floorboards.
“I’m not sure if I can. But I’ll do my best.”
Jack closed his eyes, taking in all that had occurred on this day. His performance in front of the Queen Mother, who was visiting Australia, had been a complete failure. His wife was leaving him. She was planning to take their son, Toby, with her. But all of that was nothing compared to this.
