14

BY THE TIME LUNCH COMES AROUND, I’M ALREADY STRESSED out about my
chances of making Junior Agent. Maybe Director Van Helsing was right.
Maybe I am in over my head.
Feeling like I need to be doing something, I skip the first few minutes of
lunch and head to the Files and Evidence Room in the Department of
Supernatural Investigations. Maybe if I can get permission to look at some
of the files on my brother, it’ll help me understand what the Bureau knows
and what they’re doing to find him.
Unfortunately, the lady at the front desk makes it clear that trainees don’t
have access to classified files under any circumstance. What’s worse, Junior
Agents don’t either—only the adults.
And if that’s not frustrating enough, magiciangirl18 is spying on me
somehow? I was so sure it was one of the other Junior Agent trainees
trolling me, but none of them were on their phones when those messages
came through. I made sure of it.
Now I can’t help but wonder if Elsie was right and magiciangirl18 really
is the magician who took my brother and Maria. But what should I do about
it? If I accuse her and I’m wrong, there’s no telling how she’ll take it. I
certainly don’t appreciate being called a criminal just because I’m a
magician. A false accusation—especially against someone trying to help—
could mean blowing the best chance I have to learn anything at all about
Moreau and being a magician.
I can’t risk it.
“Ooh!” says Elsie when she sits down to lunch with me in the food court.
“Tell me what you think about this—lip gloss that shoots knockout gas. The antidote would be in the lip gloss itself, so once you put some on, you’d be
immune!”
She’s been like this ever since she got her Mastermind Inventor ability
from the Crystal Ball. Out of nowhere she’ll get this intense look and then
just start coming up with all sorts of ideas for cool new inventions.
Yesterday she got an idea for a microphone that turns your voice into that
really high pitch that only dogs can hear. As long as the person you’re
talking to has an earpiece that picks up the sound, you could have totally
private conversations in a crowded room—assuming there aren’t any
werewolves around.
It feels weird not to tell Elsie about the new messages. But
magiciangirl18 was pretty clear.
“You might as well tell me,” Elsie says.
I blink and find my roommate staring right at me.
Elsie leans closer. “Your aura just went gray. What’s wrong?”
“I . . . well, there’s a . . .” I totally chicken out. “Um, just worried about
my test score.”
Elsie doesn’t look convinced. “Are you sure that’s all?”
Chief Crowe’s voice booms over the intercom before I can answer.
“Trainee Amari Peters is requested in the office of the Chief Director
immediately. Her private elevator will be waiting for you in the food court
lobby.”
The food court goes completely silent and nearly everyone turns to look
in my direction.
“Nobody gets to use that elevator,” says Elsie, eyes wide. “Must be
something really important.”
Why would the chief need to talk to me?
I mean, unless I’m in trouble again. I swallow. Maybe they know about
magiciangirl18 after all. The chief ’s elevator is the last one on the row and is twice as big as the
others. Normally there’s an Off-Limits sign on its front, but today the doors
are wide open. The floor is plush carpet and the walls are all tinted mirrors
so those inside can see out but nobody can look in. A pair of slippers sit
near the entrance. “Are these slippers for me?” I ask, leaning inside. Man, this thing is
fancy.
“Of course they are,” says the elevator in a snooty voice. “This carpet is
made of fine handwoven unicorn hair—shed not shaven—and it will not be
blemished by the likes of you!”
I can’t roll my eyes hard enough. “Nice to meet you too,” I mutter.
“What was that?”
“Nothing,” I say quickly. “Wait, aren’t you supposed to introduce
yourself?”
The elevator groans. “I suppose I am. How I go from transporting His
Royal Deviousness, the Goblin King himself, to some trainee is beyond me
. . .” The elevator clears its throat. “The name is Lord Archibald Reginald
Kensington, reluctantly at your service.”
“Lord . . . of the elevators?” I ask. “Is that really a thing?”
“Of course it’s a thing! Now get on!”
“Okay, okay. Sorry I asked.” I step out of my shoes and into the slippers.
I turn around as the doors shut and then immediately open up again.
“We’ve arrived at the Office of the Chief Director,” says Lord
Kensington in a bored voice.
Whoa! “That was fast!”
“As I am Lord of these elevator shafts, that should really be expected,
shouldn’t it?” replies Lord Kensington with a harrumph. “Now be gone
with you. And don’t you dare take my slippers.”
I step out of the elevator and glance around the small lobby. There’s only
a fancy glass desk with a big Office of the Chief Director plaque across the
front. The same secretary who escorted Elsie and me to our seats on
Welcome Day is seated behind it. A giant picture of Chief Crowe in a
business suit fills the back wall.
My smile fades at the secretary’s serious expression. She points to a door
marked Conference Room and says, “This way, please. They’re waiting for
you.”
They? My mind flashes back to the last time I was in a conference room
—when everyone had just learned that I was a magician. A few of the
directors wanted me locked away. What if this time they mean to go
through with it? Please, oh please, don’t let me be in trouble. If they really
do know about magiciangirl18, I’m toast.
This time the conference room is a lot emptier. Agent Magnus is seated at
one side of a long table, his big arms folded across his chest. Agent Fiona
and Chief Crowe both sit on the opposite side. Agent Fiona shoots an
annoyed look at Magnus as the secretary leads me into the conference
room.
“Amari!” says Chief Crowe with a wide smile. “I do hope your afternoon
is going well. Please take a seat.”
It can’t be that bad if she’s smiling, right? I glance over at Agent Fiona,
and she gives me an encouraging nod.
I start to relax a little until Magnus pats the chair next to him.
“Don’t you go getting comfortable. Wait till they tell you about the
reckless idea that’s brought you here,” he says to me. He shakes his head.
“In all my years . . .”
Agent Fiona chucks a pencil past his head.
Reckless idea? I take a seat beside Magnus, my eyes going back and
forth from adult to adult. “What’s going on?”
“Well, Amari . . .” Chief Crowe gets to her feet and puts her hands
behind her back. The gills on her neck flap open and shut as she clears her
throat. “You’re no doubt aware of this morning’s attack on one of our
outposts?”
“It happened right in the middle of our tour,” I say. “There were flashing
lights and everything.”
Chief Crowe sighs and begins to pace. “It was an especially violent
attack that resulted in terrible injuries to a number of our members. These
weren’t agents, mind you, rather very specialized researchers studying wild
magical flurries. The new batch of hybrids appears to be especially
bloodthirsty creatures. These hybrids exhibit superhuman speed and
strength far beyond the ones of the past.” She shakes her head. “It’s quite
unlike anything we’ve seen before.”
“Truly,” says Agent Fiona. “The entire research team had to be flown to
the nearest supernatural health center.”
“That’s awful,” I say.
“The long and short of it is that we’ve become quite desperate,” says
Chief Crowe. “As far as we know, Moreau is the only magician with
enough magic to create hybrids. A spell that can warp nature so perversely
is typically far beyond his apprentices. Until you showed up here, we had
no idea a single person could even be so magical.”
That must be why they were so quick to accuse me. I swallow. “It wasn’t
me. Everything I’ve done with magic has been a complete accident. I
wouldn’t even know how to use a spell.”
“No one in this room is accusing ye,” says Agent Fiona. “Why, you’d
have had to be in two places at once to order the attack on that outpost.”
“What we are saying is that someone we believe to be connected to
Moreau is creating these hybrids. And we don’t know the first thing about
this new magician. So when Agent Fiona came to me with what I’ll admit is
a rather outlandish proposal, I found myself forced to consider it,” says
Chief Crowe.
That’s when I realize why I’m here and why Agent Magnus is so upset. I
lean forward in my seat. “You’re going to let me to talk to Moreau.”
Agent Fiona and Chief Crowe both nod.
Agent Magnus gets to his feet, knocking over his chair. “Amari won’t
have any part in it.”
Agent Fiona reddens. “It’s not your decision is it, ye great big oaf!” Her
blue eyes come back to me. “We wouldn’t ask ye if it wasn’t important.
Innocents are getting hurt.”
“Oh, do sit down, Magnus,” snaps Chief Crowe.
Magnus picks up his fallen chair and drops into it dramatically. That guy
can sure throw a tantrum.
“Now, Amari,” Chief Crowe continues, “I know you were quite eager
before but I’d like to be sure you’ve properly thought this through. We
would be placing you near the most terrible villain in the history of our
world. Desperate or not, it’s not a decision I’d have you take lightly.”
“This kinda thing ain’t her job yet,” grumbles Agent Magnus. “She’s just
a kid, for crying out loud.”
“And it’s still her decision,” says Agent Fiona.
I lean back in my chair and pretend to think it over. I get that Agent
Magnus feels like it’s his job to keep me safe, and maybe that’s what
Quinton would’ve wanted. But this is the opportunity I’ve been waiting for.
“I’m doing it.”
Agent Magnus throws up his hands.
Agent Fiona blows out a heavy sigh of relief. “Ye have our thanks,
Peters.”
“Indeed you do,” says Chief Crowe.
“But I have a condition too,” I continue. “I want to know why you
refused the trade to get my brother back. And whatever else you know
about my brother’s disappearance.”
Agent Fiona and Chief Crowe both exchange a startled look. Chief
Crowe asks, “How on earth do you know about that?”
“It’s classified.” Agent Magnus crosses his arms.
“If she already knows about the letter,” says Agent Fiona, “then it’s only
fair we fill her in on the details. It’s nothing she couldn’t learn from Moreau
himself.”
After what feels like forever, Chief Crowe gives a stiff nod. “We’ll tell
her everything we can within reason.”
Agent Fiona and Chief Crowe huddle for a moment, speaking in low
voices. While they talk I sneak a peek over at Agent Magnus. He’s seriously
unhappy. Well, too bad. I’m about to complete step two of me and Elsie’s
plan. I’m about to discover what the Bureau knows about my brother’s
disappearance.
Chief Crowe and Agent Fiona return to the table. The chief speaks first.
“The letter we received came from one of Moreau’s apprentices. And it
made not just one, but two impossible demands, one for each member of
VanQuish.”
Two demands?
Chief Crowe continues, “The first was releasing Moreau from prison.”
“Ye weren’t here when Moreau was free,” Agent Fiona cuts in. “Horrible
things would randomly happen without any rhyme or reason. The worst part
is we’d all know it was Moreau who did it but there was nothing we could
do. The fact your brother and Maria were able to track him down is nothing
short of a miracle.”
Elsie and I figured Moreau’s apprentice would want him free. “What else
did the letter ask for?”
“That, I’m afraid, really is classified,” says Chief Crowe. “Just know that
it concerns an item of immense destructive power. An item that would put
many, many innocent lives at risk were it placed in the wrong hands.”
It takes a few seconds for the words to sink in. When they do, I try to
blink back my tears. “Whoever has my brother must be a horrible person to
want something like that. If we can’t give them what they want, what’s to
stop them from hurting Quinton and Maria? How are we supposed to get
them back?

“By catching whoever has them,” says Agent Fiona, coming around the
table to crouch in front of my chair. “And our best hope right now is getting
something out of Moreau that will help us do just that. Ye are our best hope,
Amari.”
“I’m in,” I say. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”