22

THE LAST THING I EXPECT TO HEAR WHEN DYLAN transports me back to my
apartment is voices in the living room. A tall white guy sits in one of our
kitchen chairs facing away from me—DETECTIVE written in big yellow
letters across the back of his dark blue jacket. Mama sits on the opposite
side of the room with her head down.
I push Dylan into the hallway before Mama can look up. “You have to
go.”
“I will,” he says softly. “But am I going to have a partner on Monday?”
“I . . . I don’t know,” I say. “But you really have to go, okay?”
“I’m going. But I hope you do come back.” Dylan taps his armband and
vanishes.
I close my eyes and lean my head against the wall. That was so close.
What in the world is Mama even doing home this early? Did the police
call her? Could they have found something?
With so many questions bouncing around my head, I decide to slide to
the end of the hallway and have a listen.
“I know it’s not what you wanted to hear,” says the detective. “But please
don’t think we’re giving up on Quinton. We’re simply out of leads at this
point. Our detectives have to move on to new cases. But rest assured that if
anything new comes in, we’ll be right back on your son’s case.”
Mama nods. “I understand.” She looks so small, bunched up on the couch
like that. So defeated. I hate it.
The detective leans back now. “You know, I’ve worked this
neighborhood for twenty years, both as a beat cop and a detective. Seen the
same pattern again and again. A son gets tired of seeing his mother struggle
and decides to do something about it. Starts to participate in activities that ain’t exactly on the upandup. He don’t want his mom to be disappointed in
him so he keeps it under wraps. Claims he got a job. You see where I’m
going with this?”
“I do,” says Mama. “But I told you. Quinton was working.”
“Working, you say?” asks the detective. “Ever been to this job? Seen a
paycheck or even a check stub?”
Mama drops her eyes and frowns.
I’ve heard enough. I stomp into the living room. “Leave her alone!”
Both the detective and Mama jump in surprise.
“Amari?” says Mama. “What are you doing here?”
I’m so focused on the detective I barely even hear her. “She’s already
answered your questions, so just go.”
“I know this ain’t easy,” says the detective, “especially coming from
somebody like me. But—”
“I don’t care, okay? You can’t just come in here and say stuff like that
when you don’t know. You can’t assume what my brother is like just
because of where we’re from. Quinton is a good person. The best person.
And I’m not going to let you just say whatever you want about him.”
“Amari!” says Mama.
“All right,” says the detective, getting to his feet. He ignores me and
speaks directly to Mama. “Wasn’t my intention to start any trouble.”
Mama takes a shaky breath. “Thank you, detective.”
I slam the door shut behind him.
Mama covers her face, crying. I go over and take a seat beside her and
say, “I meant what I said. You should hear the kinds of things they say
about Quinton.”
But Mama just shakes her head. “What Quinton did in that leadership
camp doesn’t matter, Babygirl.”
What can I say to make her understand the truth? I could try to come up
with a way to explain the Bureau to her, but how can I do that without
sounding like I’m making it up? I could show her a spell but then she’d
freak. And there’s no telling how the Bureau would react if they found out.
Would I get in trouble? Would we both get in trouble?
But watching her cry like this is too hard. I have to do something.
“You shouldn’t have blown up at that detective like that,” says Mama.
“He’s just trying to help.” I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “But he was wrong about Quinton. You
know that.”
“I don’t know that,” says Mama, her voice harsh. “I have no idea what
Quinton was doing. For all we know he got caught up in the same mess as
so many of the young men from around here.”
“Mama.” I’m too stunned to say anything else.
She gets up and trudges into the hallway. I hear her bedroom door close.
And that’s when I realize I’m crying too. But not because I’m sad.
I’m mad. Mad at whoever’s keeping Quinton away from us. And mad at
myself for ever becoming so scared that I’d consider giving up on my
brother. I’ve got to be stronger than I’ve been. No matter how bad those
other kids make me feel, nothing’s worse than seeing Mama hurt like this.
I’ve got to bring Quinton home, if only to prove to Mama that her son is
everything she’s always thought him to be. And more.

After munching on a Hot Pocket, I go ahead and iron Mama’s work uniform
and hang it up on her doorknob. The light in her room is out so hopefully
she was able to fall asleep. Even though it’s been a couple hours since that
detective left, I’m still so frustrated that there’s no way I’ll be falling asleep
anytime soon. So I grab my cell phone, plug in my earbuds, and head
upstairs to the roof.
The night sky is still cloudy so it’s even darker than usual. Cautiously, I
take a seat right at the edge of the roof and let my feet dangle over the side.
I can hear both Quinton’s and Mama’s voices in my head telling me to
come back to where it’s safer. But honestly it feels good not to listen for
once. To be scared of something and do it anyway. If I’m going back to the
Bureau, this is good practice.
“Amari?”
I whip around to see Jayden coming up behind me. “What are you doing
up here this late?”
He just smiles and plops down beside me. “Ma’s new boyfriend don’t
like having me around so I come up here till they fall asleep. How about
you? Thought you were out doing fancy kid stuff.”
I laugh at that. “Trust me, there’s nothing fancy about Amari Peters.” The
kids at the Bureau make sure I know it too.

“Yeah, right,” he says. “You’re practically a legend in the ’Wood.”
I raise an eyebrow and he laughs.
“I’m serious,” he adds. “People in the neighborhood love them some
Peters. And not just your brother either—you too. We all think you’re
gonna be president or something.”
“No, they talk about me because of my brother, there’s a big difference.
I’m not good at everything like he is.”
Jayden looks at me like he has no clue what I’m talking about. “So you
didn’t get all the school awards back in elementary school? And I guess
they just give anybody a scholarship to those rich kid schools, huh?”
“Oh, be quiet,” I say, blushing a little.
“I get it, though,” he says. “Can’t be easy having Quinton Peters as your
brother. It’s like being the secondbest basketball player in the whole world
but your brother is the best—you’d grow up losing all the time and thinking
you suck. But everybody else, the people watching, we see you pulling off
moves we only wish we could. We able to see how great you are.”
I open my mouth, but don’t know what to say.
Jayden’s phone rings and his whole expression sours. He sighs as he gets
to his feet.
“Jayden . . .” I say.
“I’m trying to get myself out of the Wood Boyz, I really am,” he says.
“You and Quinton will still help me when I do, right?”
I nod. “Definitely.”
He grins and nods too, then disappears down the stairwell.
Jayden’s words stay on the roof with me. I have always compared myself
to Quinton and never felt like I measured up. My brother is good at
everything without even trying . . . because that’s his supernatural ability, I
realize! Quinton has SuperGenius Aptitude—Director Van Helsing said it
gives him the ability to learn anything with ease.
Why haven’t I ever realized this before now? My whole life I’ve been
comparing my best efforts to my brother’s supernatural efforts. Of course
I’d fall short.
My phone rings. I take a look at the screen, thinking it has to be Elsie.
But the phone number is blocked out, and the caller ID just says “Surprise.”
Huh? Maybe Dylan, then. That tech magic of his. I tap to answer and say,
“Hello?” At first there’s nothing, then a robotic voice comes on the line.
“ENEMIES OF MAGICIANKIND, YOU WERE WARNED WHAT
WOULD HAPPEN IF OUR DEMANDS WEREN’T MET. NOW SUFFER
THE CONSEQUENCES.”
The call ends. Consequences?
A message pops up on my screen. It’s a video, shot from overhead. I
squint down at my phone at footage of massive creatures sprinting across
someone’s front lawn. They look like those hulking creatures Moreau
showed me back in Blackstone Prison. Hybrids.
Once they reach a mansion, the monsters don’t even break stride,
bursting through the front doors and shattering the wall of windows.
No! I recognize that house. I saw it on Lara’s Eurg page. That’s Van
Helsing Manor. The scene changes to another mansion, then another, all
overrun by hybrids. When it finally ends, I get to my feet and open up my
own Eurg page.
Hands shaking, I contact Dylan the only way I know how.
From: Amari_Peters
I just got a weird video showing your house being attacked.
Are you OK?
I pace back and forth across the roof waiting for a reply from
magiciangirl18, aka my partner. Instead I get a call from Elsie.
“Ohmygosh, do you know if the Van Helsings are okay?” she asks.
“I don’t know—wait, you got that video too?”
“Yeah,” she says. “So did my mom and her coworkers at the Department
of Creature Control. I think it went out to the entire Bureau.”