by B. B. Alston
“But if you’re family is broke,” asks the boy in the gold suit, “then how did you and Quinton get in?”
“Didn’t you know?” answers Lara, who’s finally made her way around the table to take a seat next to her brother. “Quinton wasn’t a legacy kid; he was merit.”
The whole table goes quiet. They all stare at me like I’ve got two heads or something.
“What does merit mean?” I ask.
Kirsten leans in. “It means your brother got in for doing something noteworthy, like saving a family from a burning building or acing one of the national exams. Most kids at the Bureau get in because they have a family member who nominated them. Many of us can trace back our family history in the Bureau for hundreds of years.”
“The Van Helsings founded the Bureau,” Lara adds matter-of-factly.
“Merits are basically what the Bureau does to fill any leftover seats once the legacy nominations have all been sent out,” says Kirsten.
“Well,” says Lara, “I don’t mind as long as they know their place.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.
“It means they shouldn’t set their sights too high,” says Kirsten. “They should just take an unimportant specialty and be grateful.”
Lara rolls her eyes. “But you know they won’t. They’ll all try out for Junior Agent anyway.”
“So what if Quinton was merit?” I say. “My brother was one of the best agents there’s ever been.”
“Even a broken clock is right twice a day.” Lara cocks her head to one side. “My father tells us about it every year. Merit kids who go out for fancy specialties only to fail the tryout and get sent home without a scholarship. And let’s be real, they’re the ones who really need the scholarships.”
“You can only try your best,” I say. “Why shouldn’t they choose something that really interests them?”
“Did you read that off a poster?” Lara covers her mouth dramatically. “Wait, don’t tell me you signed up for Junior Agent? I mean, technically you’re a legacy kid, but barely.”
“What if I did?”
Lara huffs and I see it—that same I’m-better-than-you attitude flashes in her eyes that I used to see in Emily Grant’s. “Please. Do you really think lightning is going to strike twice? I mean one ghetto kid stumbling into fame is rare enough, don’t you think?” She leans closer, lowering her voice so that she’s practically growling at me. “Face it, fancy badge or not, you don’t even have a supernatural ability. Not a real one.”
Snickers ring out around the table.
“I do,” I say.
“Then show us,” says Lara.
I just sit there as the others try to hold in their laughter.
Lara pokes out her bottom lip mockingly. “How tragic.”
I stand up from the table quickly, knocking my chair over.
“Leave me alone!” I’m shaking.
“Or what? You and your disgusting magician friends will sic your nasty hybrids on me? You shouldn’t even be here!”
I don’t only hear Lara’s voice. I hear Emily Grant and her stuck-up friends too. Anger surges through me. And then, suddenly, a swirling blaze of fire erupts on the table between me and Lara. My breath hitches, and the kids fall over one another as they scramble to get away.
“Disgusting magician!” Lara glares at me over the blaze.
That’s when I feel two hands steer me away from the table. “Hey!” I say in protest, but it’s just Elsie. She’s a lot stronger than she looks. I glance over my shoulder to see my fire fade away without a single burn mark anywhere. Thank goodness. Elsie doesn’t let me go until we’re back on the other side of the ballroom.
“Your aura was burning red,” she says. “Figured I’d get you out of there before you did something you’d regret.” She sets a plate in front of me. “Eat.”
“Maybe I don’t—” The aroma of the pepperoni pizza hits me and I don’t even remember what I was saying. I start in immediately on a thick, cheesy slice.
I’m halfway through it when Elsie says, “I’m guessing things didn’t go well, huh?”
I groan. “I don’t think Lara ever wanted to talk about Quinton and Maria. She just wanted to get me in front of her stupid friends to make fun of me.”
Elsie winces. “Sounds like Lara. I thought with how much she looked up to Maria, she might want to help us.” She shakes her head. “She wasn’t always like that. When we were younger, back before she cared about being a ‘Van Helsing,’ she used to be really nice.”
“Well, that Lara is long gone.”
Elsie nods.
Once I’ve finished my plate, I pull out my new cell phone and set it in front of Elsie. “Can you show me how to access the othernet? I want to be able to check social media.”
“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” asks Elsie. “The supernatural world isn’t much nicer than the known world.”
“I know,” I say. “I just want to show everyone the real me. Can you do it for me?”
“Okay, but you’ve got to promise me something in return.”
“Deal,” I say.
Elsie not only downloads the app that lets me access the othernet, she even creates a profile for me on Eurgphmthilthmsphlthm, the leading social media site in the supernatural world.
“How do you even pronounce that?” I ask.
“You don’t,” she replies. “Humans don’t have enough tongues.”
“Oh, okay then.”
Elsie’s request is that I go with her to the aerial dance floor. She swears it’ll lift my spirits. And even though I don’t ask, she can’t wait to tell me how it works. “It’s basically a mini-tornado, but it’s controlled so it isn’t dangerous.” Even down here on the ground I can feel the wind on my face. Kids whip around in fast circles high into the air and back down again.
“Okay, the next time a spot opens up we’re jumping in,” says Elsie.
I’m a little nervous, but with the way this whole day has gone, I just want to do something fun. And Elsie is so excited it’s hard for me not to feel it too. She nods along to the music and next thing I know, so do I.
Elsie and I are next in line. “Ready?” she asks.
A hand lands on my shoulder. I turn to discover it’s Dylan Van Helsing. I shrug it off, instantly annoyed. “Can’t you guys take a hint?”
He raises both hands in surrender. “Not me. My father wants to talk with you.”
“What does your dad want?” I ask Dylan as I follow him across the ballroom. Lara could’ve run off to tell her dad about my fire illusion. What if he thinks I’m out of control? The chief made it clear that I’m on a short leash.
Dylan shrugs. “No clue.”
My heart is beating so fast. But not so fast that I don’t realize I’ve got another chance at a Van Helsing twin. “Well, can you at least tell me if you know anything about what happened to my brother . . . and your sister?”
“My dad said that he’d let us know as soon as they learned something,” he grumbles. “That was six months ago.”
I shake my head. Another dead end.
Dylan stops to look at me. “But . . . I’ve done my own snooping around and managed to find out a few things on my own.”
“Tell me.”
He gives me a questioning look. “Why should I?”
“Because it’s not just your sister that’s missing. It’s my brother too. You should understand how I feel. Please.” I only hope he isn’t as awful as his sister.
Dylan frowns. For a moment it seems like he won’t answer, but then he says, “Fine. But over there.” He points to an empty section of the ballroom.
Once we’re there, he says, “The Bureau knows who took Quinton and Maria. They have for months now.”
“Really? Who was it?”
Dylan drops his voice even lower. “It was one of Moreau’s people. A couple months after VanQuish went missing, a letter arrived at the Bureau offering a trade. It said that if the Bureau refused, then no one would
be safe. It was signed, Moreau’s loyal apprentice.”
My breath catches. “Does that mean Quinton and Maria are alive? That they’re okay?”
“I hope so,” says Dylan.
If the letter was from Moreau’s apprentice, then maybe Quinton and Maria were taken so they could be traded for Moreau’s freedom. “What did the Bureau do about the letter?”
“Doesn’t seem like they did anything,” Dylan says angrily. “And there have been hybrid attacks ever since.”
Hybrids? My brain tries to process what I just heard. The magician who’s been attacking the Bureau is the same person who took my brother.
I can’t believe Director Van Helsing accused me of being that magician. Did he really think I’d kidnap my own brother? “Wait, so the Bureau just ignored the letter?”
“As far as I can tell.” He looks me right in the eyes. “But don’t tell anyone what I just said if you know what’s good for you. It’s supposed to be top secret. Classified.”
I nod. “I won’t say a thing.”
Dylan nods and says, “C’mon. My dad is over with the other chaperones.”
“Hey, wait a sec. So, um, Elsie and I are doing our own investigating too. Maybe we could all work together?”
He shrugs. “Maybe.” Then he turns and heads over toward his dad.
Maybe? I think, following.
Director Van Helsing breaks off from a group of adults once we get close.
“I saw you two head off by yourselves,” he says. “What was that about?”
“Sorry,” says Dylan with a smirk. “I was just telling Amari that she should leave the investigating to those with actual experience.”
I glare at him. Why put me on blast like that? Especially in front of his dad?
Director Van Helsing narrows his eyes. “I see.”
“Did you need anything else?” Dylan asks.
“No, that’s all, son,” says Director Van Helsing.
Dylan walks off and suddenly it’s just me and Director Van Helsing. I just know I’m in trouble. I can’t even meet his eyes.
Director Van Helsing pulls out my card. “You’ve only written Junior Agent here.”
“That’s . . . um, that’s what I want to do,” I say, trying to sound confident.
He sighs. “You want to follow in your brother’s footsteps. That’s understandable—”
“That’s not the reason,” I interrupt. “I want to find out what happened to my brother. Everything there is to know about Quinton is in the Department of Supernatural Investigations. And the only way I can be there is to become a Junior Agent.”
Even though he’s trying to look calm, I can tell he’s annoyed. “Whatever the reason, you are clearly underestimating just how difficult it is to earn a position as Junior Agent. It’s not only the most competitive specialty here, but you’ll be competing with students from longstanding legacy families who have known about the supernatural world their whole lives. Children with the means to visit the places you’ll only have read about. Private tutors and the like. You’re at a tremendous disadvantage.”
“Maybe my chances aren’t great,” I say. “But Quinton had the same disadvantage and he was able to make Junior Agent.”
“Your brother’s supernatural ability was quite literally Super-Genius Aptitude—we could show him nearly anything once and he’d learn it, just like that. He’s the exception, not the rule, Amari.”
I feel my shoulders droop. “But it’s still my choice, right?”
“Well, of course. I just want you to be realistic. It may not be fair, but our job is to choose the trainees who will make the best agents.”
“My badge shows I’ve got as much potential as anyone,” I say.
Van Helsing blows out a long breath. “Understand that you don’t get to come back next summer and try again like the other children. You are a magician, a criminal, and should you fail to prove you belong here, the chief will have no choice but to implement my suggestion to take your memories and send you home to be monitored. Trainees have until the first tryout to transfer into a different specialty. After that you’re on your own. There’s never been a moonstone badge recipient who failed a tryout. But then, perhaps your being a magician is the only thing special about you.”
He turns to leave but stops himself. “And if I hear about you using another spell in this building, especially in my daughter’s direction, you’re gone, understand? Consider yourself extremely lucky that a witness vouched for you. Goodnight, Miss Peters.”
The director stomps off. I could cry I feel so discouraged.
My phone buzzes. It says I’ve got a new message on my profile, but last I looked it was still set to private. So how could anyone find me? Curious, I click on the flashing icon.
New Message from magiciangirl18:
Keep your head up, Amari Peters. You aren’t alone.
13
THE NEXT MORNING ELSIE AND I JOIN A BUNCH OF trainees at the youth dormitory elevators. We found our uniforms—a gray suit for me and a white lab coat for Elsie—waiting for us in our closet. I nearly panicked when I saw my moonstone badge sparkling on the front. How did it even get out of its case? Doesn’t matter. No way am I walking around with a shimmering “Look at Me” badge attached to my jacket. I took it off and reattached it under my lapel to keep it hidden.
All around us kids talk excitedly. Once again, I’m thankful for the distraction because no one pays much attention to me and Elsie whispering near the back of the crowd. After last night, we’ve still got a lot to talk about.
“I think Dylan was telling the truth about the letter,” says Elsie. “He’s been honest for as long as I’ve known him. I’ll bet whoever took VanQuish tried to trade them for Moreau.”
“But that would mean the Bureau ignored a chance to get my brother back.”
Elsie frowns. “They’d have to. Otherwise, every bad guy in the supernatural world would start kidnapping agents to make outrageous demands.”
I hate that Elsie is making so much sense. Because it doesn’t make me feel any better at all.
“What are you going to do about magiciangirl18?” Elsie continues.
A jolt of unease zips through me again. How did magiciangirl18 even know I’d made a profile? “I already told you, I’m not doing anything about it.”
“But what if she’s the same magician the Bureau is looking for?” Elsie’s face goes red. “What if she’s Moreau’s apprentice?”
“Why would that magician want to be nice to me?” I ask. “I’ll bet it’s actually somebody pretending to be a magician just to mess with me.” Like when Emily Grant and her friends sent me friend requests out of nowhere just so they could post mean things on my page. “Besides, Director Van Helsing already thinks I’m a criminal. That message is the excuse he needs to kick me out.”
We find a spot on a packed elevator next to a large group of boys in scuba gear. Clearly they’re headed to the Department of Undersea Relations.
Two girls in safari gear squeeze on last. Their name-tags say they’re trying out for the Department of Creature Control. “You don’t think they’ll make us walk through the Woodland Predators section, do you?” one of them asks. “Maybe,” says the other. “When my uncle was twelve he went totally bald after getting too close to an African lighting bird nest during his tour.”
My stomach is doing flips thinking about what my own first day will be like. Supernatural Investigations is the most dangerous, most competitive specialty there is.
“I’m pretty sure the first day is just a tour,” says Elsie, giving me a soft nudge with her elbow. “Nothing to be worried about.”
“Thanks,” I say, remembering that she can see just how worried I really am. I don’t think I’ll ever totally get used to Elsie knowing exactly how I’m feeling. But right now I need a little reassurance. Director Van Helsing’s words keep replaying in my head. Surely you can’t fail a tour, can you?
I shake out my nerves. I’ve got to focus on why I
’m here. I need to find out if Dylan was telling the truth about the stuff he told me last night. Elsie might believe him, but the way he turned on me in front of his dad makes me worried he might’ve just been messing with me.
I’ll just have to find out for myself. Which means the plan stays the same for Elsie and me—find out as much as we can.
And this tour is the perfect time to learn my way around Quinton’s department—like where Quinton and Maria’s office is located and where all the files are kept.
As for how we’ll get into those places? We’ll figure that out later.
By the time the elevator arrives at the Department of Supernatural Investigations, it’s half full. Around thirty kids in light gray suits all stand shoulder to shoulder.
Seeing the lobby for the first time feels like I’ve somehow stepped into one of those old black-and-white movies. The floors are covered with black-and-white tiles. The walls are glistening white, and two black pillars surround a white statue of Abraham Van Helsing driving a stake into Vladimir, one of the Night Brothers.
“Good luck,” Elsie says as the elevator doors slide open. She gives me two big thumbs-up.
“Thanks,” I say, stepping off. “You too.” If I wasn’t nervous before, I definitely feel it now. I gulp as the elevator lifts Elsie away. You’re on your own now, Amari.
“It’s not too late to turn back,” sings a voice I recognize. Lara Van Helsing smirks at me from beside her brother at the far end of the line. Nearly all the kids from her table at the social are here too.
“See that statue?” Lara adds. “That’s how the Bureau feels about magicians.” She and her friends laugh. Only Dylan keeps a straight face.
I ignore them and find a spot at the opposite end of the line. The lobby stays pretty quiet except for the whispers coming from the twins’ little group. Everybody else looks just as nervous as I feel.
After a few minutes, there’s a loud click and a section of the back wall slides away. Agent Fiona steps into the doorway. “The Red Lady,” someone murmurs. It’s easy to see how she got the nickname. Unlike yesterday, her blazing red hair is flowing and wild, falling down over her shoulders like it might bite anyone who comes too close with a comb. Those piercing blue eyes dart around the room like they’re watching everything at once.