27

“SERIOUSLY, AMARI?”
My eyes jump open to find Elsie standing in the doorway of our usual
study room with her hands on her hips.
“That’s got to be the most uncomfortable sleeping position ever,” she
says.
“I . . . I wasn’t asleep,” I say defensively, lifting my head. But now that
I’ve pulled my face away from my book, I can see where I’ve drooled on
the pages.
Elsie sits down next to me. “You’ve been studying nonstop for days. You
need to take breaks, you know. Otherwise your head’ll explode.”
“I’ve got to get through this booklist,” I say. “And then I have to go back
over all the stuff I read when I first got here because it feels like I can’t
remember any of it.”
“You haven’t forgotten,” says Elsie. “You just haven’t given your brain
any rest. It’s practically got steam coming off it.”
Maybe she’s right, because I can’t even remember what the title of this
book is. I slam it shut and yawn. “What time is it?”
“Breakfast.”
My jaw drops. “You’re joking. Please say you’re joking.”
“Nope,” she says. “You spent the entire night facefirst in a book.”
I rub my neck and groan. “No wonder my neck feels so stiff. . . . Wait! If
it’s already tomorrow then I have to meet Dylan in the training gym. It’s our
last chance to practice the Helsing technique. It’s their family Stun Stick
style and Maria taught it to Quinton. It’s—”
“Amari!” says Elsie. “I know what the Helsing technique is. But maybe
you should focus on going back to the room and taking a nap first. I’ll tell Dylan you’re going to be a little late. And brush your teeth too.” Elsie
pinches her nose to make her point.
I cover my mouth. “Sorry. I think I will take that nap. Hey, who needs a
whole bunch of friends when I’ve got one Elsie.”

When Dylan and I arrive at the training gym, there’s a giant petition posted
on the doors with the names of all the legacy parents who don’t want me
participating in the finale.
Most of them aren’t even from Supernatural Investigations, but they are
current members of the Bureau of Supernatural Affairs. They’ve got their
names and titles listed.
“Maybe we could practice somewhere else today?” I say to Dylan.
“I say we train right in their faces.” Dylan pushes open the door.
“Are you sure?” I ask. “You don’t worry about people going after you
because of me?”
“Never,” he says. “VanQuish 2.0, right?”
I take a deep breath. “Okay, then. Let’s do it.”
The Helsing technique is just as hard as it looks, but Dylan is pretty
confident we’ll win our duels with just the basics. Quinton and Maria make
it look so easy in all the footage we watch. One time they even pulled it off
hanging upside down from the ceiling. Those maneating stalactites didn’t
stand a chance.
We practice until we’re both so exhausted we just lie on the padded floor.
I still haven’t told Dylan about Quinton tracking down the Key Holder.
Things were so weird between us with the whole Maria/traitor thing. And
now that there’s a chance we could find out who this Key Holder actually
is, it feels like we’re close to a major discovery.
We did promise to share whatever we found.
“I’ve got something important to tell you,” I say.
“What is it?” Dylan asks, sitting up.
I sit up too and tell him everything we’ve learned.
“This is huge!” he says. “If the Bureau can get to the Key Holder first,
then maybe we can spring a trap for Moreau’s apprentice. This could be
how we get Quinton and Maria back.”

“Only one problem,” I say. “I have to become a Junior Agent in order to
inherit Quinton’s second Farewell Briefcase. And there’s a whole petition
against me being in the finale.”
“You have to do it anyway,” says Dylan. “And prove that you deserve a
place here.”
“But how? They’ll never let me go onstage and show off my magic.”
“Use my turn,” he says.
“What do you mean?”
“When they announce me,” he says, “you go onstage instead.”
“You’re serious?” I ask. “We would be in so much trouble.”
Dylan just laughs. “You think my dad is going to let both his kids flunk
the tryouts? Besides, if you don’t do this, then you’re giving him the excuse
he needs to cut you. All he has to say is you didn’t fulfill all the
requirements.”
“I don’t know,” I say. “Agent Magnus already said he’d try to help.”
“What’s better,” asks Dylan, “hoping Magnus convinces enough people
to feel sorry for you or going up there and taking a spot you should already
have?”
A mix of nerves and excitement washes over me. “I do deserve my spot.”
A sneaky grin lights up Dylan’s face. “Then tell me, how would you
show off your magic?”

Elsie dashes into our room looking way too pleased with herself.
She skips over to my side of the room, where I’m hunched over
Sovereign Cities of the Supernatural World, and plops down on the end of
my bed. “I hope you’re not planning on studying all day.”
“We’re not all geniuses,” I say, turning a page.
Elsie lifts her chin and I know immediately she’s about to go on about
something she’s read. “You know, studies show that cramming the day
before a big test is actually worse for you than just taking the day off.”
“I’m not cramming,” I say, without looking up. “This is the last book on
my booklist.”
“Fine,” Elsie sighs. “Study if you want, but promise me you’ll keep
tonight free.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Why? What’s happening tonight?”

“Just promise, okay?”
Hold on. “You’re really not going to tell me what it is?”
“Nope,” says Elsie. “It’s a surprise. Please just say you’ll come with me.
Please? It’ll be so much fun.”
As much as I’m tempted, there’s a part of me that feels guilty for even
thinking about it. “It doesn’t feel right to have fun when Quinton is still out
there somewhere.”
“You’ve been working super hard. And once you make Junior Agent, I’ll
barely ever see you while you’re off with Agent Magnus working to get
VanQuish back. Just come with me and have some fun tonight. You’ve
earned it.”
“I . . . I guess you’re right,” I say.
Elsie claps her hands and squeals. “Hope you’re not scared of the dark!”

It takes me all morning and most of the afternoon to finish Sovereign Cities
of the Supernatural World. Despite the boring title, it’s pretty cool to learn
about the nonhuman cities out there. Places like the underwater city of
Atlantis. Or the dwarven stronghold of Cibola, an underground city made
completely of gold. It figures that it’s located directly beneath Las Vegas.
When I get back to my room, Elsie is waiting inside for me with a
suitcase and a grin so wide I know I’m in trouble. “What are you up to?”
“So . . . tonight’s festivities may involve sneaking out,” says Elsie.
Sneaking out? “To where?”
“Good question,” says Elsie. “Where is much better than why. Not that
I’m answering either question. Just know that it involves these most
splendid cloaks.”
“Are those . . . Junior Undertaker cloaks?”
“Fresh from the Department of the Dead!”
“Something tells me I’m going to regret agreeing to this,” I say. “Are you
sure we won’t get caught?” I mean, it would really suck to get thrown out
the day before I make Junior Agent.
“Don’t worry, we won’t be the only ones.”
At exactly 8:15 p.m., we get changed and join a large group of Junior
Undertakers making their way to the elevators. Bertha stops and gives us a
good looking over, but with the hoods of our cloaks pulled so low over our heads, we all look alike. Still, shouldn’t she know by now how many Junior
Undertakers there are? It’s like she’s just letting us go.
Once we’re on an elevator, Lucy gives us a “Tsk, tsk, someone’s being
naughty.” Still, she zips us up to the Vanderbilt Hotel lobby without another
word. Elsie and I follow the others down a side hall that leads outside where
a bus is waiting. We sign the roll with madeup names.
My roommate and I head to the very back of the bus. As soon as we find
seats, Elsie pulls back her hood and grins. “Done and done.”
I pull my hood off too. “Maybe now you can tell me where we’re
going?”
Elsie rolls her eyes playfully. “You’ll know soon enough.”
“Amari?” says a voice I recognize. Dylan’s head rises into view above
the seat in front of us. “I thought I heard you.” He’s got on a Junior
Undertaker cloak too.
“Are there any actual Junior Undertakers on this bus?” I ask.
“A few,” he says. “Sneaking out the night before finale is kind of a
tradition.”
No wonder Bertha let us go so easily.
“I’m coming back there.” Dylan climbs over the seat and plops down
between me and Elsie. “Is this your first AllSouls Festival?”
“AllSoul Festival?” I repeat. Are we going to a soul music concert?
Mama would be so jealous.
Elsie shoots Dylan a look and says, “It’s supposed to be a surprise.”
“Oh, my bad,” says Dylan, looking back and forth between us. “Well, if
it’s your first time going, let’s just say the name doesn’t really give much
away.”
The bus leaves the city and we end up on an empty twolane road. We
pass through thickly wooded areas and farmland until eventually the bus
pulls off onto a wide grassy field. A large crowd is gathered next to the
road. I try to look past them all, to get a hint at what the AllSouls Festival
might be, but the only thing that catches my eye is the full moon above.
The three of us pull our hoods back on and follow the others off the bus.
But when the Junior Undertakers move to the front of the crowd, Elsie
grabs my hand and pulls me to the back.
“Climb on my shoulders,” says Dylan.
“I’m not—”
“Hurry,” he insists. “You’ll miss it.”

Elsie nods enthusiastically.
I take him up on his offer. On top of Dylan, I get a clear view of the
Junior Undertakers spaced evenly in a straight line, their backs to the
crowd. At the center is a Senior Undertaker whose cloak has a high silver
collar. It looks like he’s checking his watch.
“Can they get on with it?” says something that looks a lot like the boy
version of Tinkerbell, his small wings buzzing in my ear. “It’s been
midnight for three minutes already.”
Finally, the undertaker reaches into his cloak and brings a whistle up to
his lips. He gives it a blow and the Junior Undertakers raise their right arms
in unison. Each one holds up a baton. “By order of the Department of the
Dead, working in conjunction with the foremost representatives of Afterlife,
I declare before the full moon that this month’s AllSouls Festival is now in
session!”
The Junior Undertakers point their batons forward. Green light comes
pouring out of them, and together they draw a complex symbol of glowing
green. The undertaker takes a step forward and says, “Open, Says Me.”
The symbol flashes and then fades into nothing. Bright colorful tents
begin to emerge, spreading out over the entire field. Only they never fully
take form. They stay hazy, almost translucent, like a strong gust of wind
could blow them all away.
The grass below my feet becomes black pavement and little stands line
the winding road ahead. Shimmering white figures swish back and forth
along the road, calling us forward.
Dylan drops me onto my feet and I almost don’t remember to catch
myself. “Are those ghosts?” I ask.
“Yep,” says Dylan. “It’s why they call it the AllSouls Festival.
Everyone’s invited, living or dead.”
I don’t get very long to decide how I feel about being surrounded by
ghosts because Elsie whoops and tugs me by the hand, behind the mass of
people moving along the street. Dylan keeps pace, and we move through
the crowd until we reach the first of the stands.
I can’t stop staring. Up close, the spirits look like people, only they’re as
shimmery and translucent as everything else here. A slender spirit with a
thick mustache waves us over to his table. “Grab a bite of Ghostly Cotton
Candy! Eat as much as you want! You’ll never get full!”

I pat down my pockets for show. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have any money.
Wait, do you even take money?”
“Joss paper,” says the spirit. “Just have to burn it in my presence.”
I turn to Elsie, who digs into her pocket.
Dylan stops her. “I think my dad should pay for Amari’s fun, don’t you?”
He pulls out a thick roll of pink dollar bills and a lighter, and then sets a
couple ablaze. Instead of burning up, though, the bills only turn as
shimmery as everything else in the festival. The spirit happily accepts the
money and stuffs it into a jar.
“A pleasure doing business,” says the spirit. He hands me a small bag of
glowing cotton candy, and I can’t get the stuff into my mouth fast enough.
The fruity flavor melts on my tongue. I’ve never tasted anything so
delicious.
Elsie, Dylan, and I move from stand to stand trying all kinds of different
goodies. I can’t stop grinning after tasting a Strawberry Smiles–flavored
milkshake. Poor Elsie can’t stop giggling after asking for a sample of the
Chocolate Chip Chuckles flavor. Dylan and Elsie dare me to try Banshee
IScream, which seems like plain old ice cream to me until the urge to shout
my lungs out takes over after the third bite. Dylan and Elsie both go red in
the face from laughing at me.
Once we’ve tasted everything there is to taste, we head into a large tent
called Sweet Dreams. The dreams in here all glisten like liquid gold in little
glass bottles. The sign says you only need one sip before bed to ensure you
have the dream you want. Richest Person in the World seems really popular
and so does Most Beautiful Person in the World. I see a few people attempt
to slip Sweet, Sweet Revenge into their shopping baskets without anyone
noticing. A group of teenagers swarms the My Crush Wants to Go Out with
Me counter and don’t leave a single bottle on the shelf.
Eventually Dylan gets pulled away by some of his other friends, leaving
me and Elsie to explore the rest of the festival on our own. We wander
down a side street until I notice a jetblack tent with a faded sign out front.
Madame Violet’s Magician Gift Shop
An actual store for magicians? Owned by the lady who wrote my spell
book?
“We have to stop by that black tent,” I tell Elsie.
“What black tent?” she replies.
“Right there. It’s like directly in front of us.”

Elsie squints. “I’m looking but I don’t see any black tents.”
“Just follow me.” I lead Elsie closer, until we’re standing right in front of
the entrance. “Still don’t see it?”
Elsie looks at me sideways. “All I see is an empty alleyway.”
Weird. “C’mon. Maybe you’ll be able to see it once we’re inside.”
I step through the entrance and the sharp smell of spices stings my nose.
A skinny spirit wearing long dreadlocks sits crosslegged behind a black
kettle. That must be Madame Violet. She grins at me from the center of the
dimly lit space. “You couldn’t have seen my tent unless you’ve magician’s
magic in your blood. You must be the famous Amari Peters. I read about
you in this week’s Dearly Departed.”
“I am Amari Peters.” I glance around at the bottles lining her shelves. A
bottle marked Broken Promises shimmers with a soft blue light. Another
silver vial says Shattered Dreams. Unrequited Love has a bright red glow.
Greatest Hopes sparkles in gold.
Elsie comes in behind me. “This really is a tent. I thought for sure you
were seeing things.”
I step closer to the lady behind the kettle. “Are you the same Madame
Violet who wrote my spell book?”
The spirit shuts her eyes and grins. “Do you imagine that there are many
magicians named Madame Violet?”
“Probably not,” I reply.
Madame Violet has a purring laugh. “Put the book to good use, child.
Magic is a living thing—it does a dead woman no good. Shall we get down
to business?” The spirit leans closer and strokes her chin. “The
knowledgeable girl lacks courage, while the courageous girl lacks
knowledge. How interesting . . .
“I’ll make deal with you,” she adds. “If the dragon girl pays a small
price, the magician girl can get knowledge vital to her quest.”
“My quest?” I ask.
“This is not the first time I have seen your face,” says Madame Violet.
“When I was living, I would cast my magic far into the future and marvel at
the scenes my illusions would show me. I saw who you were speaking to,
Amari, and the spell you cast. I can assure you, this is a future you
desperately want to preserve. And that can only happen with my help.”
Elsie pulls out some joss paper from her pouch.

Madame Violet clucks her tongue. “I do not deal in common currency.
For this I shall require one secret withheld from a friend.”
“A secret?” My roommate shivers.
The spirit’s expression darkens. “There isn’t anything you’ve kept from
your friend here? Certainly she couldn’t hold it against you if revealing it is
for her own benefit?”
Elsie glances to me, then drops her head. “Well—”
“Hush,” says the spirit. “Don’t waste it. Give me your hand.”
At first, I think there’s no way Elsie will agree to this but then she
extends her hand.
“Wait!” I say.
“I can do this for Quinton,” Elsie says.
“But . . .” I watch helplessly as the spirit takes Elsie’s hand into her
shimmering palm.
“Repeat these words,” says the woman. “I pledge a secret withheld for a
single bit of advice for my friend.”
Elsie nods and repeats the words. A burst of cold air fills the tent, making
me shiver.
My roommate lowers her head and turns to face me. “The first night we
met I told you that I didn’t know why I haven’t shifted yet. The truth is that
I do know. I found it in a book ages ago. Weredragons were once fierce
warriors and because of that, in order to shift we have to perform a great act
of courage. But I’ve been a worrier and a scaredycat my whole life. I didn’t
tell you because I’m ashamed.”
The woman takes out a small net and swings it through the air between
us. She hurriedly drops the net into an open jar labeled Secrets Among
Friends. The black liquid swirls, going from nearly empty to half full.
“I’m sorry,” says Elsie.
I take her hand. “It’s totally fine. We had just met, remember? I thought
you were going to say you snore like a lawn mower on purpose.”
Elsie laughs and gives my hand a gentle squeeze.
“Very good,” says Madame Violet. “And here is the knowledge that was
promised—an illusionist should never trust that which giggles and grins.”
I just stare. Is that all? “Am I supposed to know what that means?”
Madame Violet cackles as she and the entire shop begin to fade away.
Soon Elsie and I are standing alone in an alley between two larger tents. It’s
like the shop was never here.

“Well, that was strange,” says Elsie.
“Very strange.”
“There she is!” comes Kirsten’s voice from the main road. “I told you I
saw her come down this way.”
Elsie and I turn to find Lara and Kirsten coming in our direction.
Lara balls her fists. “You think you can throw spaghetti in my face and
get away with it?” Whatever made her hesitate back at Bureau is gone. She
looks furious.
I glance around me for an escape but the only way out of this alley is
forward. Right into Lara.
“Just let Elsie go,” I say. “Please.”
“So she can run off and tell someone?” says Lara. “Nope, you’re finally
going to get what’s coming to you.” She sets her jaw and steps closer.
I shove Elsie behind me.
Lara dashes forward and kicks out her leg. It’s so fast I don’t even have
time to react. I just feel my legs get knocked from under me and land hard
on my side. Next thing I know, she’s on top of me, pinning both my wrists
above my head with one arm. That means she’s still got one hand free. She
balls it into a fist.
I wriggle and buck my legs but it’s no use. Her ability makes her too
strong. Lara winds up her punch and I panic. I stare into her eyes and
scream, “Magna Fobia!”
Lara’s eyes go wide as the world around us shifts. Suddenly we aren’t in
an alley anymore but a big fancy office. Lara lowers her fist, glancing
around, her face scrunched in confusion. “How did . . . ? Why am I . . . ?”
I push her off me and she falls backward, whipping her head back and
forth like . . .
Like she can’t see me. I move a little closer and realize it’s true. Lara is
looking right through me.
“What on earth are you doing on the floor?” Director Van Helsing stands
in the doorway. His gray suit is wrinkled and he’s got bags under his eyes
like he hasn’t slept in days. “It’s bad enough you embarrassed this family at
the tryout, and now I find you on the floor like a toddler?”
Lara gets to her feet quickly but I can see his words hit home. Her cheeks
redden, and her normally cocky voice comes out shaky and uncertain. “I’m
sorry, I . . . just got confused.”

Director Van Helsing shakes his head and shuts the door behind him.
Then he goes to his desk. “The phone call should be coming any minute
now.”
What phone call? I wonder.
But Lara just nods and takes a seat in front of the desk. She rocks back
and forth in her chair.
What’s going on?
The phone chimes and Director Van Helsing answers on the first ring.
Lara sits up straight in her chair, her eyes searching her father’s face.
Director Van Helsing just keeps nodding and saying, “I understand,” over
and over. When he finally does hang up, there’s a stunned look on his face.
“Well?” asks Lara, jumping to her feet. “What did they say?”
Director Van Helsing covers his face with both hands. “She’s gone,
sweetheart. Your sister has passed on.”
Lara lets out a terrible wail. Then she falls to her knees, sobbing.
Oh no. I’ve got to make this stop. “Dispel!” I say, trembling.
The illusion vanishes and Kirsten flees. I run over and throw my arms
around Lara’s back. “I’m so, so sorry.”
Lara just keeps crying. Elsie looks on from where she’s standing, one
hand covering her mouth. What did I just do? Lara’s worst fear is the same
as mine. That my brother is more than just missing. That he really is gone.
Lara pulls herself free of my grip. “Stay away from me.” She sprints out
of the alley.
Elsie and I meet each other’s eyes, but neither of us knows what to say.