26

THAT NIGHT, ALL THE REMAINING JUNIOR AGENT TRAINEES are called to the
lobby of the Department of Supernatural Investigations. Only six of us
show up. Other than me and Dylan, there’s Josh Adams and Brian Li, and
then two of Lara’s followers, Zoe Wisniewski and Madison Klein.
Lara and Kirsten aren’t here.
I overhear Madison telling Brian Li that Lara and Kirsten were actually
the first to complete all the clues but didn’t fess up to getting inside
information. When they told Lara she failed, she threw an epic temper
tantrum so bad she may not be allowed to try out again next year if Agent
Fiona has anything to say about it. Seeing as there are supposed to be eight
trainees left, I guess Lara and Kirsten weren’t the only ones who were
disqualified.
It might be the reason Agent Magnus pulled Dylan aside for a quick talk.
If his sister really did fail the tryout, then he’s probably feeling bad about
teaming up with me.
Agent Fiona lifts up her hands as she enters the lobby. “Congratulations!
The six of ye have proven to be the best. But now’s no time to be resting on
your laurels. There’s only seven days between now and the finale. What’s
your reward for getting this far? Well, I’m giving ye all your freedom. Ye
can spend the next week however you’d like. Remember, the finale will test
your supernatural world knowledge, your dueling skills with Sky Sprints
and Stun Sticks, and your control over your supernatural ability. Spend this
next week tightening up your skills in whatever areas you’re weakest. The
four of ye who score the best in these three areas will earn your Junior
Agent badges and be assigned a Senior Agent to mentor ye for the last month of the summer session. You’ll get to go out into the world and see
what agenting is all about!”
Madison’s hand goes up.
“Yes?”
She turns and points to me. “I don’t think it’s fair that the rest of us have
to demonstrate our supernatural ability and she gets to skip it.”
Agent Fiona glances in my direction. “We haven’t decided yet how we’re
handling Amari’s situation.”
“I heard she used a spell during her tryout,” says Brian Li. “Isn’t that
illegal?”
“Amari got permission from her chaperone,” answers Agent Fiona. “And
while we aren’t thrilled about it, our rules were to consult the chaperones
for guidance on what’s allowed.”
“Seems like special treatment to me,” Brian Li shoots back. “I say she
should be disqualified and Lara should be let back in.” The others nod in
agreement.
“It’s a good thing it’s not up to ye, isn’t it? You’re all dismissed.”
The others turn and head for the elevators, and both Zoe and Madison
shoot me angry looks. I want to ask Dylan more about his sister, but before
I get the chance, he follows Agent Fiona into the department.
As much as I don’t like Lara’s stuckup friends, they aren’t wrong. It
really isn’t fair that I get to skip one section of the finale.
I do have things I could demonstrate for them. I’ve been practicing my
illusions for weeks. But would they ever let me show off my magic?

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many people in the food court at one
time,” I say as Elsie sits down at a table with me.
Even though there are a lot fewer trainees than we started with at the
beginning of summer, the place is packed with tutors and coaches of all
kinds. For every kid, there are like five adults helping them to prepare for
the finale—all retired Bureau employees. It’s easy to see why Junior Agent
spots go to legacy kids. Even if you manage to get through the first two
tryouts, how are you supposed to compete with kids who have a whole team
around them?

Elsie frowns. “It’s like their parents are buying them a spot in the Bureau.
But that’s how it’s always been.”
“At least you don’t have much to worry about,” I say.
And it’s true. Elsie did great on her second tryout. The Junior Researcher
trainees had to sit in a locked room and solve seven puzzles. The last puzzle
held the key that opened the door. The first sixteen kids who opened the
door got an invite to their finale. Elsie finished them all in fifteen minutes
flat and was the first to claim her invite.
“Neither do you,” Elsie says. “I know you’ll make Junior Agent.”
Dylan plops down at our table.
“Sorry about Lara.” I haven’t been able to talk to Dylan since we found
out his sister failed the tryout. Elsie and I still haven’t told him about the
whole Key Holder thing. Even now, it’s kind of hard to bring up.
“Yeah,” Dylan says. “She’s pretty mad. And Dad agrees with her that it’s
my fault for not choosing her as my partner.”
As much as Lara and I don’t get along, I still feel a spike of guilt. She’s
Dylan’s sister after all.
Dylan starts to say something more but laughter drowns out his words as
Lara and a group of her friends surround our table. Lara’s holding a laptop.
“Let’s see here,” says Lara. “Amari Peters, recipient of the Jefferson
Academy Scholarship for the Disadvantaged. Oh, how sad.”
“Leave her alone,” says Dylan.
“Leave her alone?” repeats Lara, glaring at her brother. “But I’m just
getting started.” She leans in closer to the screen. “It seems you can take the
girl out of the ghetto, but you can’t take the ghetto out of the girl. Look at
all these discipline referrals!”
“Where did you get that?” I’m so mad I’m trembling.
Lara looks to me, then her brother. “Daddy left his computer laying
around. Seems like he wanted to know all about his future juvenile
delinquent superstar.”
Dylan stands up and snatches the computer away from Lara. “Back off.”
“How dare you!” shrieks Lara. She grabs Dylan’s plate of spaghetti and
tries to dump it over his head.
“Stop!” I shout.
And it does stop. A shimmering illusion of me appears, and she catches
the plate of spaghetti in midair. She turns to look at me over her shoulder
and winks. Gasps sound from the crowd of kids gathered around us. I stare at my
outstretched hand. Did I really just do that? I decide to test it out. With a
flick of my fingers, the illusion pushes the plate of spaghetti right into
Lara’s face.
Whoa.
Kids all around the food court point and laugh. My illusion vanishes and
Elsie scrambles around the table to where I’m standing.
Lara snarls. “You are so dead.”
I swallow. But I’m not running away anymore. “Mess with me or my
friends again and next time it’ll be worse.”
Lara freezes, her expression suddenly unsure. She has no way of
knowing what my magic is capable of—not after what I just did. I’ll bet
taking me on isn’t a risk she’s willing to take with so many kids watching.
I take Elsie’s hand and head to the elevators. Dylan stays behind to calm
his sister.
Once we’re inside, I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Um, Amari?” Elsie stares at me, visibly confused. “That thing with the
spaghetti—I didn’t know your illusions could do that.”
I look down at my hands in wonder. “Me neither.”

There are three reasons I never get tired of our library. First, it’s just so
coollooking. Everything is made up of books—the floors, the ceilings, even
the pillars between the bookcases. You can type in your book title at the
computer catalog and get directions like Three paces to the left and look
down or Pillar closest to fern, climb up halfway. The second reason is that
there’s just so many interesting things to read about, even aside from what I
need to learn to become a Junior Agent.
The third reason is Mrs. Belle, the librarian. She has this knack for
knowing what you’d like to read, just by looking at you. It’s really helpful
whenever I get burned out from studying the notsofun books from our
booklist. I don’t care what anyone says, there’s a reason Supernatural Laws
and Regulations comes with a pillow on the cover.
When I arrive at the counter, I’m glad to see that Mrs. Belle is here. Most
of the other librarians aren’t as nice. They either back away from the counter and talk to me from like ten feet away or they suddenly get busy
doing something else and ignore me completely.
Mrs. Belle adjusts her thick glasses and grins. “Another old news
magazine from the archives, hun?”
“Not this time,” I say. “Any chance there’s something new about Quinton
that might’ve come in?”
“Just got a shipment of gossip magazines this morning. Sure, they might
use less than reputable sources, but some of your best information comes
from less than reputable sources. You remember that when you become a
bigshot agent, you hear?”
I laugh but Elsie rolls her eyes. “A true researcher is a champion of facts,
not makebelieve. There’s a reason they’re shelved on the fiction side of the
library.”
Mrs. Belle chuckles. “Well, if you change your mind and get a hankerin’
for a little makebelieve, the computer catalog for the fiction section is right
over there.”
I ignore Elsie’s protests and head straight over. What could it hurt?
We’ve already read nearly everything else about Quinton. I type in Quinton
Peters and a list pops up onscreen.
One headline catches my eye.
“Rumors and Whisperings: Famed Agent Kept Secrets.”
“Elsie, come look at this. What do you think?”
“I think we can do better,” she says, walking over. Then she reads the
headline and her eyes widen. “I’ve heard of Rumors and Whisperings! The
housekeepers swear by it. Maybe we should be thorough . . .”
We both grin.
The computer says it’s located right above us, and sure enough, when I
look up, the magazine drops from the ceiling and glides right into my arms.
A thrill of excitement shoots through me.
Elsie and I dash to the study hall at the opposite end of the library. Once
we find an empty room, I take a seat at the desk and Elsie pulls up an extra
chair.
I flip the magazine open. There are only two pages—a table of contents
followed by a blank page. The table of contents reads:
Things aren’t so rosy as Madame Duboise accused of stealing from
rival Great Wall of China mysteriously grows an extra ten meters
overnight. Again!
Dwarves insulted by Merlin’s insinuation that golden city is merely
gold-plated
Newly elected US President faints at first Supernatural Affairs briefing
Rogue carnivorous thunderclouds threaten air travel in South Pacific
Famed Special Agent kept secrets potentially locked away forever
“There has to be some kind of trick to it,” says Elsie. We turn the
magazine sideways, then upside down. We even shut off the lights to see if
the words might glow in the dark.
“How in the world does this thing work?” I say, annoyed.
“Gotta ask me a question,” comes a low, deep voice.
Elsie and I just stare. The magazine just spoke. You’d think we’d be used
to this sort of thing by now.
“Let’s do a test run,” says Elsie. “What can you tell me about Madame
Duboise stealing from a rival?”
Madame Duboise’s pale green face and f lowing rose petal locks
suddenly appear on the blank page. Beside it is a much younger face, white
petals jutting out of her bright yellow scalp like a daisy. “Psst, listen up,”
comes a heavy whisper. “Things got heated at an EverTree fashion show
after both Madame Duboise and former understudy Vivi LaBoom both
unveiled nearly identical lines of translucent apparel for ghostly spirits.
LaBoom, who has long held that she was the real force behind Duboise’s
recent resurgence in popularity before being unceremoniously fired, has
accused Duboise of having a spy within her design circle. Duboise calls the
accusations ‘ridiculous,’ saying LaBoom was fired for being a ‘LaBum.’
Curious, then, that both were spotted laughing it up at Duboise’s sprawling
woodland estate. Publicity stunt, anyone? Course, you didn’t hear it from
us. . . .”
Elsie bounces in her chair. “Scandalous!”
Grinning, I flip to the contents and then back to the blank page. “Tell me
about the Special Agent keeping secrets.”
“That’s not a question,” the magazine clucks. “Mind your manners.”
“Fine,” I say. “Can you please tell me about the Special Agent keeping
secrets?” “Why certainly,” the magazine replies. An image of Agent Magnus
appears on the page.
“Psst, listen up. Special Agent Quinton Peters is known for his heroics as
one half of the famed agent team VanQuish. The pair went missing under
highly suspicious circumstances about which the Bureau has remained
extremely tight-lipped. But maybe they’re seeking to protect his legacy more
than anything. It’s customary for an agent to create a Farewell Briefcase to
be delivered to a loved one in the event of a tragedy, and it was touching
indeed that Quinton Peters chose to use his briefcase to offer Amari Peters
a place at the Bureau. But one has to wonder, why then would an agent of
reputable stature need a second Farewell Briefcase? What secrets did the
golden boy need to hide so badly that he’d send it to old Magnus for
safekeeping? If the conditions for opening the briefcase are never met,
perhaps we’ll never know. Course, you didn’t hear it from us . . .”
I slam the magazine shut and hop out of my chair, heading for the door.
“Where are you going?” Elsie asks.
“To find out more.”

I give Agent Magnus’s door a good hard knock.
“Are you sure we should bother him this late?” asks Elsie for the fifth
time.
“I have to know,” I say.
On my second knock, I hear movement inside.
Magnus opens the door just a crack. “Whaddya want?”
“I know you’ve got my brother’s second Farewell Briefcase,” I say.
Agent Magnus opens the door a little more. “And where’d you hear
that?”
“Rumors and Whisperings.”
“Blasted gossip rag,” Magnus groans. “Bane of my existence.”
“Well?” I say. “Do you?”
“Come in and shut the door behind you.”
“Can my friend come in too?” I ask. “You’ve already met her and I’ll
probably tell her everything anyway.”
“I’m really good at keeping secrets,” Elsie says, crossing her heart.
“Promise.”

“Might as well,” says Magnus. “Apparently topsecret work is far from
secret these days.”
The office looks like a tree exploded in here. Everything is made of
wood. Wood paneling on the walls, a big wooden desk, and hardwood
floors. He’s got a pair of longhorn steer horns above his desk and lots of
pictures of him and other agents along the walls. There’s a really big photo
with VanQuish on a shelf next to his medals.
Elsie and I take the two chairs in front of his desk.
“All right, so maybe I do have it,” he says. “What’s it to ya?”
“What’s in it?” I ask, leaning forward. “Why did my brother need another
briefcase?”
“Here’s the thing about that,” he answers. “I don’t actually know what’s
inside. I’ve got a guess, but I don’t know for sure.”
“You mean you haven’t opened it?” I ask.
“Wasn’t meant to be opened,” he says. “Quinton didn’t put anyone’s
name on it. Just asked me to keep it hidden. Said whatever was inside was
never meant to see the light of day.”
Elsie and I turn to look at one another.
Then I ask, “Do you think whatever’s inside could get him in trouble?”
“That’s a strange question.” Agent Magnus strokes his beard. “What do
you know?”
I meet Elsie’s eyes again. If I tell the wrong person what we found . . .
“I bet he already knows,” she says. “His aura is a reddish orange—
protective. I think he’s been protecting Quinton all this time.”
That’s why he claimed not to know about what Quinton was doing. “We
know about the Black Book.” I lean back in my chair and add, “We also
know that Quinton discovered the Key Holder’s identity. I think that’s what
he’s keeping in that second Farewell Briefcase.”
Agent Magnus jumps in his seat. “How on earth did you figure that out?”
“Long story,” I say. “What I don’t understand is why he would search for
the Key Holder if he knows the horrible consequences?”
“I won’t say I agree with what he did,” says Agent Magnus. “But I do
understand why he did it. It was clear when we raided Moreau’s island that
he was actively trying to resurrect his fallen comrade. Seems this Black
Book has the power to do just that.”
“And that’s why Moreau’s apprentice took my brother?” I ask, wanting to
be sure. “To get him to reveal the location of the Black Key?” “That would be the bestcase scenario.” Agent Magnus comes from
around his desk and places a hand on my shoulder. “They’d need your
brother alive to learn what he knows. And if Quinton has refused to say
anything, then there’s a good chance he and Maria are still out there
somewhere.”
Please oh please let that be true.
“The Black Book is still safe inside the Great Vault, right?” asks Elsie.
“Like there’s no way anyone could get to it?”
“Absolutely. It’s the safest place in the whole supernatural world.”
I shake my head. “You guys didn’t see Moreau’s face. He was so sure of
his plan.”
“All the more reason to get our hands on this apprentice as soon as
possible and put an end to this,” says Magnus.
For a second I think to mention that my brother suspected Maria, but that
wouldn’t be treating her like she’s innocent. And I promised Dylan that I
would.
Instead, I say, “I want to help. I want to find my brother and bring
Moreau’s apprentice to justice.”
Magnus sighs and crosses his arms. “Quinton didn’t want this life for
you. But if you succeed in making Junior Agent and officially become part
of the Bureau, then you’d stand to inherit all of his belongings. This
briefcase technically becomes yours. Though it’s likely the information
inside made your brother a target. Not to mention what it could mean for
the Bureau if word got out what Quinton was up to.”
“I’ll keep Quinton’s secret,” I say. “And I don’t care about being safe. Or
if there’s a target on my back too.”
“Gathered that much when you ignored my warning and became a Junior
Agent trainee in the first place,” says Agent Magnus. “Good or bad, you’ve
got Quinton’s same fire in your blood. That same stubborn determination,
minus a setback or two.”
I remember just how close I came to quitting Junior Agent training.
Twice.
“Let me help,” I say again. “I’m sure my magic could help.”
Something buzzes on Magnus’s belt. He unclips his phone and holds it up
to his face. “Would this magic of yours have anything to do with the
message I just got about you dumping a plate of spaghetti on Lara Van
Helsing’s head?” My face flushes. “She was planning to dump it on Dylan, and I sort of
lost my temper.”
Magnus snorts. “Well, if there’s anybody due for a bit of spaghetti
humbling, it’s that Van Helsing gal. Kid was born with her nose turned up.”
“Then you’re not going to kick me out of Junior Agent training?”
“Oh, I’m sure those phone calls will be coming any minute,” says
Magnus. “It’ll be a good time to trade in some of the goodwill you built up
with the chief by meeting with Moreau. Besides, you’ve already got enough
going against you. The chief is under a lot of pressure not to promote you to
Junior Agent. A good many folks assumed you’d fail the second tryout. But
now that you’ve made it to the finale, they’re getting nervous. The idea of a
magician inside the Bureau of Supernatural Affairs scares a lot of people.”
But there have been magicians named Van Helsing inside the Bureau for
centuries, I think. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Only thing you can control is how hard you try,” he replies. “Make it as
hard as possible to overlook you. Do that, and I’ll do what I can to see that
you get a fair shake. Understand?”
“I do,” I say. “I’m going to outwork them all.”