21

“YOU CAN DROP ME OFF AT MY APARTMENT,” I TELL Maxwell, the driver of the
town car Elsie’s guardian sent for her. He was supposed to take her straight
home but she told him to just ride around for a bit while I cooled off. He
was even nice enough to go and get my things from the dorm room.
I decide not to text Mama that I’ll be coming home. She’ll just have a
million questions and wonder if I’m all right.
Thing is, I’m not all right. That ugly painting above my bed was just so
cruel. Those X’s over the eyes and the stake in the heart. . . . I feel like I
could throw up. Do they hate magicians enough to really want to hurt me?
I lay my head against the car window. Is there anywhere that I belong?
Moreau’s voice echoes in my head. Join us, Amari. Join your fellow
magicians.
“I know you’re sad right now,” says Elsie, “but not everyone is against
you. I’m not.”
I don’t answer. I keep staring out the backseat window. It’s started to rain.
Realizing I’m being rude, that she’s not who I’m mad at, I open my
mouth to apologize but Elsie cuts me off.
“I know,” she says. “You don’t have to say it.”
I nod and close my eyes. I can still hear that chant in my ears. Still see
those faces looking at me with hate just because I’m different. For being
something I didn’t even choose to be. “I don’t know if I can go back.”
“But . . . your brother,” says Elsie, scooting closer to me on the back seat.
“You can’t let them make you give up. They want you feeling ashamed of
what you are. They want you so scared you’ll quit.”
“I don’t care,” I say. “I’ll just have to find another way.”

“You can’t quit and keep your memories. You’d go back to being the
person you were before you knew about the supernatural world.”
I think about the clues Dylan and I found on Quinton’s computer. I’d lose
them if my memories were taken. But then, I’d also lose the memory of
people hating me.
“You’re being a coward,” says Elsie.
I whirl to face her and she flinches.
But then she lifts her chin. “Quinton would fight for you if the situation
was reversed. You know he would.”
“Quinton was my brother, not yours,” I snap. “You don’t know
anything.”
“I may not know him like you do,” she says. “But I know I’m right.”
I don’t have a comeback for that. Because deep down I do know she’s
right.

“This is my neighborhood,” I say as we pull up to a red light. Elsie presses
her face up to the window and I wonder what she’s thinking. Outside, Mr.
Jenson is fussing at a group of boys hanging outside his shop. They’re all
wearing black bandannas. They just laugh at the old man. As soon as we
stop, though, all eyes turn to us.
“Don’t stare.” I pull Elsie away from the window.
“Do you know those kids?” asks Elsie.
“Nah,” I say. “They’re just being nosy ’cause we’re in a nice car.
Probably wondering what it’s doing out here.”
I glance over Elsie’s shoulder to be sure and realize I’m wrong.
“Actually, I do know one of them. See that tall, skinny boy off to the side?
His name is Jayden. He used to come to Quinton’s tutoring program. Now
he’s running the streets with the Wood Boyz.”
“Wood Boyz?”
“It’s a gang. If Quinton were around, he’d be so disappointed. He really
cares about Jayden.” I think about our talk at the bus stop. I hope he doesn’t
get himself in trouble fooling around with those guys.
“Sounds like you care too,” Elsie says.
“I guess I just know how easy it is to fall into that life when you’re
struggling. A lot of them really have it rough, you know?” Everyone wants to feel like they belong somewhere.
“Maybe you could do something,” says Elsie.
“I’m not Quinton. He just had a way with people.” I shake my head. “The
best thing I can do is get my brother back here. He’d know what to do.”
It’s not much longer before we get to my apartment. As we pull into the
parking lot, I start to feel nervous about Elsie seeing where I live. If Elsie’s
guardian is rich enough to send a driver, then I’m sure her life outside the
Bureau is a lot closer to Lara’s than my own. What if she thinks less of me
for not having all the things she does?
“It’s this building,” I tell Maxwell, Elsie’s driver. He pulls the car into a
spot right in front of my apartment and I reach for the door handle.
“Can I come inside?” asks Elsie.
My stomach does a flip. “Um, I guess.”
Elsie grins all the way to my front door.
I push it open and step inside. It’s so clean. I guess with me gone and
Mama always at work, there’s no one around to make any messes. Elsie
comes in behind me.
“I know it’s not much, but it’s home,” I say with a shrug.
Elsie looks around wideeyed, a weird little smile on her face. She stops to
check out the photos of me and Quinton that Mama has all over the front
room. I look a hot mess in a few of them.
I’m so nervous I can’t stand it anymore. “What are you thinking?”
Elsie just looks at me. “It’s just . . . well, this is where my hero grew up.
And where my best friend grew up too. I don’t know, it just feels really
special being here.”
“Best friend?” I ask, my face flushing.
Elsie goes red. “Oh, I mean . . . I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have just assumed
—”
“No,” I say quickly. “We can be best friends. It’s just that I’ve never had
a girl best friend before. Or any best friend besides my brother, I guess.”
Elsie picks up a picture of me and Quinton splashing around at the rec
center pool. “What’s it like having Quinton Peters for a brother?”
“Normal?” But then, after I think for a bit, I say, “To me, he was just
regular old Quinton. But he was always looking out for me. I couldn’t
imagine having anyone better.”
“I wish I had a brother or sister,” says Elsie. “I mean, my adopted parents
are really nice, and I owe them so much, but they’re also really busy. It would’ve been nice to have someone to talk to or play with. I think it’s why
I’m always in my head so much. Kind of sad, huh?”
“Not at all,” I say. “Being in your head so much is probably why you’re
the smartest person I know. And besides, now you’ve got a best friend. And
that’s almost as good.”
There’s a noise at the front door. If it’s Mama, she’s going to flip about
me having somebody over without her permission. Not to mention the fact
that I never even told her I was coming home this weekend.
But it’s only Maxwell. He’s such a big, muscular guy he could probably
serve as Elsie’s bodyguard too. “I’m sorry, Miss Rodriguez, but your
mother requested I bring you home immediately. She asked me where you
were, and when I told her she got very upset.” Maxwell looks to me and
then drops his eyes. “She doesn’t think it’s safe for you to be in this part of
town. She threatened to fire me for even bringing you here.”
Elsie sighs. “And she’ll do it too, just to prove a point. I’m sorry, Amari,
but I have to go.”
“I get it. It’s cool.” I do my best to hide how much Maxwell’s words
sting.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Elsie asks.
“Mmhmm. I’ll be fine.”
Elsie comes over and gives me a hug. “I put my number in your phone.
Call me, okay?”
I stand at the window and watch as Maxwell opens the car door for her.
And then they’re gone.
To keep from thinking about what happened back at the Bureau, I dig
around in my bag for the spell book.
I place it on the table and stare at it for a while. I know I’m safe at home
and that Mama is at work, but it still feels like having this book is wrong.
But maybe Dylan is right. Maybe it’s okay to explore what I am. Even
after everything, I’m curious to know more about being a magician.
I flip open the book to a random spot. On one page is a really cool picture
of the sun. The other page has a spell.

SOLIS
Create the outward illusion of blinding sunlight from within
yourself. Cross your arms at your chest and throw them open while exclaiming Solis!

That’s it? Seems simple enough. I get to my feet and step back from the
table. I throw out my arms and say, “Solis.”
A bright flash makes me jump, but it disappears as quickly as it came.
“Did it work?” asks a voice I recognize.
“Dylan?” I whip my head back and forth. “Where are you?”
“I’m kind of inside your TV at the moment,” he says. “I tried sending
you messages on Eurg, then I tried calling your cell phone but it kept going
straight to voicemail. So I thought I’d try a more creative approach. If you
press the power button we can see each other.”
I grab my remote and turn it on. Sure enough, Dylan’s face appears on
the screen. “How in the world are you inside my TV?”
“Tech magic,” he says with a grin. “Mind if I come over?”
“When? Like now?”
“Yep,” he replies.
“Um, okay, just let me—”
Dylan appears right in front of me and I fall onto my couch in surprise.
He points to the metallic band around his forearm. “Borrowed my dad’s
transporter. He has so many he won’t even notice.”
Mr. Ware used a transporter to get to my interview, I remember. Once I’m
over my surprise, I slouch down into the cushions. “Are you sure your
parents won’t get mad at you for being in this neighborhood?”
“Maybe,” says Dylan. “But I don’t usually make a habit of telling them
where I’m going.”
“Must be nice. My mom might work all the time but she’s got the
neighbors trained to keep an eye on me. Whenever I sneak out I know she’ll
hear about it.”
He plops down on the couch next to me and looks around. I cringe when
his eyes find my baby pictures. For some reason him seeing those pictures
feels way more embarrassing than Elsie seeing them.
“Um . . . so I guess you heard what somebody did to my room.”
Dylan turns to face me, his expression serious. “You can’t let ignorant
people get you down, Amari. I mean it.”
“Easy for you to say.” I roll my eyes and fold my arms. “Nobody even
knows you’re a magician. Everyone wants to be friends with you.”

“I might smile and play along, but I know they’d treat me the same as
you if they learned the truth. Maybe worse because of who my family is.
Trust me, I know who my real friends are.” He sighs and crosses his arms
too. “I wish Maria were here, I’d ask her how she dealt with having to lie
about being a magician literally all the time.”
It never dawned on me that it might be just as hard to keep being a
magician a secret. At least with me, everything is out in the open. Maybe
I’ll never be popular but I know the few people who do like me, like the
real me. Even the magician part.
“I wish there was some way we could just magic VanQuish home,” I say.
“If only.” Dylan cracks a small smile. “But, hey, we’re becoming Junior
Agents, right? We can find them ourselves.”
My shoulders droop and a nasty chill spills down my back. “That
drawing . . . They hate me, Dylan.”
“So you’re really just giving up? When you could be the one to find
them?”
“Can we just not talk about it? Please?” I want to tell him that I’m scared
to death of going back. But I can’t get the words out.
Dylan looks so disappointed that I can’t even meet his eyes. Finally, he
says, “Well, all right then, let’s see that spell you were trying.”
My cheeks flush, remembering how easy Dylan said illusions are
supposed to be for me. “I don’t know if I did it right.”
“Try again. I’ll help you.”
“Really?”
“Really,” he says. “I know you’re not a quitter. So let’s see that spell.”
I wish I was that sure. Still, I pull myself off the couch. After a deep
breath, I throw open my arms and say, “Solis.”
This time the tips of my fingers begin to shimmer but that’s about it.
Dylan tips over, laughing.
“It’s not funny!” I say. But even I’m fighting back a giggle.
Dylan finally calms for long enough to say, “It’s just that you could try to
be a little enthusiastic when you perform the spell. You sound like the last
thing you want is for it to work. Remember, your magic is alive. It can
sense your doubt.”
“Fine,” I say. I repeat the move, only this time I nearly shout, “Solis!”
My whole body suddenly feels warm and tingly.
Dylan’s eyes go wide. “It’s working! Look at your hands.”

I bring my hands in front of my face, and sure enough, they’re glowing.
A few seconds later my whole body burns bright.
“Dispel!” says Dylan, holding up a hand to shield his eyes. “You almost
got too bright there for a second.”
“That was so cool!”
“You think that was cool?” asks Dylan. “Check this out.”
He waves over the spell book and opens it to the last page. The only
thing written on there is The End with a picture of a black leather book
beneath the words. It’s the old cover, before I used Dispel to turn the book
red. Dylan extends two fingers and waves them over the page. “Dispel.”
The book begins to shake and suddenly this isn’t the last page anymore,
it’s closer to the middle. And more words appear under The End so that the
page now says:

The End
of
Fair Magick
and the beginning
of
Magick Most Foul

Dylan turns the page.
That you have found these pages speaks to a willingness to wield
more than what fair magick can provide. However, this pursuit
comes with a dire warning. The foul magick contained on the
following pages is not for the faint of heart. As I learned in their
creation, uttering these spells will cost you. For once innocence is lost,
it cannot be regained.
MAGNA FOBIA
Allows an illusionist the ability to pull the very darkest fears from
your opponent’s mind to craft an illusion around them that they shall believe is real. As its name suggests, this spell can inflict great
mental harm. Do not use it lightly.
Stare into your opponent’s eyes—
I slam the book shut. “Why would you show me that?”
Dylan blinks, his face flushing. “I know these spells sound awful. But we
need to be able to protect ourselves. You saw how far people are willing to
go because they don’t like us. I just don’t want anything to happen to you is
all. Selfdefense only.”
“I don’t care,” I say. “I don’t want to learn anything like that.” I didn’t
realize my magic could be that dark. Is it any wonder people fear
magicians?
“You might not have a choice, Amari. If you were ever to be challenged
by another magician, you could have your magic stolen. Magicians don’t
survive that.”
“I said no,” I say firmly. I get that he’s only trying to protect me. And
maybe I’m being dumb, but the thought of having that kind of power over
people scares me a lot more than another magician does. “I don’t want to
learn magic to hurt people. I won’t be like Moreau and those other bad
magicians. And you shouldn’t use that stuff either.”
Dylan raises his palms in surrender. “Sorry. You’re probably right. I
guess I just thought—well, let me make it up to you. There’s something else
I’ve wanted to show you. But it’ll mean using my dad’s transporter.”
“I don’t know.” Fair or not, I’d be lying if I said I don’t look at Dylan a
little differently now.
“It’s about teaching you to use your illusions,” says Dylan. “Something
that’s not in your spell book.”
“Fair magick, right?” I ask, remembering what the book called it. “Not
foul magick.”
“Totally fair magick,” Dylan says. “I promise.”
Maybe I am being a little harsh. He’s only ever tried to help me. “Okay,
then.”
“Grab hold of my arm,” says Dylan. “It’s going to feel a little weird the
first time you transport.”
I nod and wrap my arm around Dylan’s. It can’t be that bad, can it? He
reaches over and presses a button on his metal armband. Suddenly I get the strange sensation that I’m falling, my living room blurring around me. A
moment later, there’s something solid beneath my feet, and a cool breeze
whips across my face. It takes me a few blinks to shake my dizziness, but
once it’s gone I stare out at a large lake that sparkles in the moonlight.
“Where are we?” I ask, my knees still a little wobbly from being
transported.
Dylan turns to look over his shoulder where a huge house sits between
the trees. “The old Van Helsing lake house. It’s been in the family for ages,
but I’m the only one who comes here anymore. Follow me!” He dashes
toward the house.
I follow, excited to see what he has to show me.
We head through the front door and into a big, empty living room. Dylan
leads me to a doorway near the back. “I may not be as strong an illusionist
as you are, but it’s still my favorite kind of magic. Painting illusions is sort
of my hobby.”
“Is that what you wanted to show me?” I ask. “One of your illusions?”
Dylan nods and pushes open the door, revealing a staircase leading down
to another door. “I’ve been working on this one for a couple months now. I
thought maybe you could add to it if you wanted.”
“I don’t know if I’m good enough . . .”
“Don’t worry,” says Dylan. “I’ll show you how.”
He opens the second door and I gasp. Dylan’s illusion is a whole forest of
twinkling neon lights. Trees and bushes with shimmering leaves of blue and
pink and purple. “I’ve got almost the whole basement covered. C’mon, I’ll
lead you through.”
I follow Dylan down a little winding path, my eyes darting back and
forth trying to see everything at once. A butterfly with redandgold wings
flutters by my face, and squirrels with glittery silver fur race up trees when
we get too close. It all feels so real that it takes a second to realize that I can
actually hear the sounds of animals. I didn’t know illusions could do so
much.
“You made all this?” I ask.
Dylan looks back over his shoulder and smiles. “Pretty cool, huh?”
“Really cool,” I say.
We continue until we reach the point where the forest ends and the stone
basement begins. “This is as far as I’ve gotten. I thought this would be a
great spot to put something of yours.” “Of mine? Is there a spell for forestmaking or something?”
Dylan laughs and shakes his head. “The spell book shows you how to
create automatic illusions, but you can also paint them manually too.” He
reaches out with his pointer finger and draws a glowing white bird onto my
shoulder. It hops to life with a few chirps and then flutters off into the
forest.
“It even sounds like a real bird.”
“Once you practice enough, there’ll be no sense you can’t fool. Your
illusions can make sounds, have bad smells, or even feel real to the touch.
I’ve never actually tried to taste one, but it seems like it would work.”
“Can you show me how?” I ask.
Dylan says the secret to making an illusion is to focus on an image in
your head and imagine it pouring out of your fingers. He says to start off
with something small and not alive, so we begin with making an extra
button on his shirt. It takes me like thirty minutes, but finally a button
appears just like I imagined it in my head. Painting manual illusions is a lot
harder than the automatic illusions.
“Awesome!” says Dylan. “Let’s do one together.” He leads me over to
the path and paints a tiny green sprout that grows through a crack in the
concrete. “This reminds me of you.”
“How come?” I ask.
“Because you haven’t let where you come from or what you are make
you give up. At least, not yet. You just keep fighting through it.”
I feel my cheeks flush and we’re both quiet for a while. Suddenly my
hand reaches out on its own and with a twirl of my fingers, Dylan’s sprout
grows and blooms with petals of sparkling clear glass. It twinkles like a
rainbow in the neon lights of Dylan’s forest.
“That’s beautiful,” says Dylan.
“I don’t know how I just did that,” I say, staring at my hand.
“Sometimes your magic will take over for you if you let it,” says Dylan.
“Hmm, how about we call it an Amari Blossom?”
I smile. “I think I like that.