Magic's Most Wanted

by Tyler Whitesides

  Wreckage sighed, striding slowly toward me, smoothing his free hand across the Velcro closure on the front of his reflective vest. I traced the other end of the jump rope to his left hand. Tied up like this, there was truly nothing I could do. I was lying on the dusty floor with only my head poking out of a red-white-and-blue cocoon.

  Standing at my feet, Wreckage lifted his right hand and pushed up the black shield of his welding mask. “I’ll admit, you gave us a lot more trouble than we expected.” He wasn’t bothering to use his scratchy Wreckage voice now that his secret identity had been blown.

  “What are you going to do to me?” I whispered.

  “What am I going to do?” he said. “Nothing. I’m going to leave you here. A nice little present for the Magix agents.”

  “What?” I cried. “That doesn’t make any sense! You’re an agent. Why bother with all this disguise? Why not just arrest me as Clarkston?”

  “I was working that angle, too,” he answered. “But Wreckage isn’t restricted by all the laws that Magix puts on their agents. Don’t use this in public. Don’t use that. Wreckage was a more effective way to hunt you. Plus, the Mastermind is paying me very nicely.”

  “Traitor,” I muttered. “Magix will find out about this. They’ll know you’re a spy.”

  “See, I don’t think so,” replied Clarkston, tying the excess length of jump rope high up around a support post in the middle of the large empty room. “I’ve been the Mastermind’s inside man for years.”

  I drew a surprised breath. “You’re the Cleaner, too?”

  Clarkston chuckled. “No, no. I did put the Cleaner’s note in Avery Lawden’s locker, but he’s just a pawn in all of this.”

  “Sounds like more than a pawn,” I said. “Talbot told us that the Cleaner is the Mastermind’s right-hand man.”

  “Me, Talbot, West, the Cleaner . . . The Mastermind doesn’t play favorites.” Clarkston shrugged. “I guess we’re all in this for our own reasons.”

  “What’s yours?” I asked bluntly.

  He sniffed. “You think I like my job?”

  “Which job?” I asked. “The one where you’re an agent for Magix? Or the one where you’re paid to kidnap children?”

  “Either,” he said. “I’ve been involved with Magix for nearly my entire life. But soon I’ll be free of my responsibilities. And I’m not the only one who feels this way. The Mastermind has helped many of us to see the truth.”

  “Whatever you’re planning, it’ll never happen,” I said. “Magix will figure out what you’re doing and stop you.”

  “That’s cute,” said Clarkston. “But once the Mastermind’s plan goes through, there will be no more Magix.”

  I swallowed hard. What was he talking about? A plan to bring down the Magix organization? And how was I tied into all of this?

  “Why me?” I asked. “I know the Mastermind has been targeting me for years. Why did it have to be me?”

  “You’ll see soon enough,” Wreckage said. “I’ve got to go now. But once I change my clothes, Clarkston will be back to arrest you. He has a strange hunch that it might be worthwhile to check out this old warehouse.” He dusted his hands together and withdrew his Get Well Soon card. “Then all that will be left is a celebration while we watch Magix burn.”

  “Your vest,” I called. “How can you use that card if your vest makes you immune to magic?”

  “Every boon has its secret,” answered Clarkston, tugging apart the Velcro that closed the front. Then he opened the card with the sick walrus and disappeared.

  I had no idea how long it would take Clarkston to change out of his Wreckage clothes and come back to arrest me. I wiggled and I wriggled against the jump rope that held me, but Clarkston had tied me to that post so I’d have no chance of reaching one of the outside doors.

  I managed to rise to my feet, but the jump rope was tied off too high to reach, and I couldn’t exactly climb while wrapped up like a burrito. I tried a few times before finally falling on my side, defeat and hopelessness claiming me.

  I wondered about the birthday present I’d been so close to opening. I didn’t wonder about its power as a reversal boon. That didn’t matter to me. But I was dying to know what the actual item was. What had my dad bought that my mom didn’t want me to have? A new video game? A razor?

  Now I’d probably never know.

  The door to the warehouse squeaked open, and I twisted to see who it was. My heart sank. Two agents in gray suits and top hats. That was fast.

  Clarkston and Nguyen.

  Chapter 28

  FRIDAY, MAY 15

  12:20 P.M.

  ABANDONED WAREHOUSE, SOMEWHERE

  Agent Clarkston reached me first while his partner swept around the interior of the warehouse, making sure everything was secure.

  “Hello again,” he whispered quietly so Nguyen couldn’t hear. Then he raised his voice and shouted to his partner. “It’s him! It’s really him!”

  Agent Nguyen was at Clarkston’s side in a flash. “Unbelievable,” she muttered. “What is this?”

  “Jump rope boon,” Clarkston answered. “It’s a trap I set up in this warehouse. Looks like it actually paid off!”

  “Liar!” I shouted. “Listen to me, Nguyen. Your partner is a mole. He worked his way into Magix so he could spy for someone called the Mastermind. Clarkston is Wreckage. He’s the bounty hunter whose mess you had to clean up at the High Line. He’s trying to stop me from finding out the truth—that I was framed for stealing the boons out of the church. That the Mastermind also framed my dad for the bank robbery.”

  “That’s enough,” Nguyen said, silencing me. “I’ve been working with Clarkston for a long time.”

  “The kid’s obviously unstable,” Clarkston said. “Not sure what he has against me.”

  “No!” I yelled. “He’s been using you, Nguyen. He staged this whole thing to bring me in. How did he know to search this particular warehouse?”

  “Oh, please,” said Clarkston. “I’ve got traps like this all over the country—”

  “He’s working with the Mastermind to take down Magix,” I interrupted.

  “Let’s pack him up and get back to HQ,” Clarkston said to his partner. “He’s cost the organization a lot of time and resources. I’m tired of listening to his lies.”

  “I’m not lying,” I said. “In fact, I can’t lie.”

  “What do you mean?” Nguyen asked.

  In response, I wiggled my right foot.

  It took a second for either of them to recognize the truth shoe sticking out through the coils of jump rope around my ankles. They looked at each other for a stunned moment. Then Agent Clarkston pounced on Nguyen.

  The two went tumbling across the warehouse floor, Clarkston pinning her in an expert wrestling move. Like an inchworm, I maneuvered onto my side and drew up my legs, planting a solid kick with both feet to the side of Clarkston’s head. He rolled off Nguyen and she leaped up in one swift motion, reaching into her fallen top hat.

  Nguyen withdrew something that looked like a strap, coming to my side before Clarkston could get up.

  “Go,” she whispered, reaching around me with the strap. “This seat belt is a transportation boon that will take you back to your last location.”

  “What about you?” I asked.

  “I’ll deal with Clarkston—make sure he doesn’t follow,” she said. “You just get the proof you need to make this right.”

  Behind her, Agent Clarkston rose. His nose was bleeding, and I saw a familiar drumstick clutched in one hand.

  “Hold on!” Nguyen cried as he brought up the stick.

  She jammed the metal end of the seat belt into the buckle, and it cinched tight around my middle.

  At once, I was in my kitchen again, gasping for breath and shaking from fear. I must have made a crash when I reappeared, because Avery, my mom, and Hamid came running in from the living room.

  “Mason!” Mom cried.

  Avery used her magic credit car
d to cut away the jump rope while I told them what had happened. At last, I rose to my feet, sliding out of the truth shoe and into my old sneaker that was still waiting for me on the floor.

  I looked around, shocked and grateful that I was back safe. And so soon! For a minute there, I wasn’t sure I’d ever see my mom and friends again.

  “Here.” Mom’s voice cut through my thoughts. She was holding the half-unwrapped present. “Hopefully this time you won’t get interrupted.”

  Swallowing against a lump of emotion, I peeled back the rest of the wrapping paper. Opening the little box, I finally saw the present my dad had wanted to give me.

  It was a throwing star.

  It wasn’t bat-shaped, like the ones Batman uses, but I didn’t care. This thing looked so cool. It was about the size of my palm, with six sharp silver points. I lifted it reverently, letting the box and wrapping paper fall to the floor. Then I pulled back my arm to throw it against the wall.

  “Na, na, na!” Fluffball and my mom both yapped at me in unison.

  “No throwing it in the house!” she said.

  “And,” explained Fluffball, “if you stick that star into anything, it’ll send out a blast of magic that’ll reverse the power of every boon within range.”

  “What’s in range?” I asked, lowering my arm. “The dishwasher?”

  “Actually,” Avery said, “there was no boon in the dishwasher. Looks like Ms. Vanderbeek really did know how to repair appliances.”

  “I’m talking about Avery’s top hat,” continued Fluffball. “It could basically implode. That’s the trouble with reversal boons. Hard to say exactly how they’ll reverse each magical effect.”

  I nodded. It was sort of bittersweet for my mom and dad to finally trust me with a throwing star, only to be told by a bunny that I couldn’t throw it.

  “I don’t think we should stay here,” I said, slipping the metal star into my pocket. “Clarkston’s going to assume I came back to the house, and I’m not sure how long Agent Nguyen can hold him off.”

  “I can’t believe Clarkston’s the mole,” muttered Avery. “He’s been a top agent for years.”

  “He admitted to delivering the Cleaner’s note to your locker,” I said. “But Clarkston doesn’t think very highly of him.”

  “Probably because he knows the Cleaner could expose everything,” said Avery. “Clarkston’s probably not happy that the Cleaner still has evidence that could prove you and your dad innocent.”

  “How unhappy would you say he was?” asked Hamid. I could tell the kid was hatching a plan.

  “What do you have in mind?” I asked.

  “Well, if Agent Clarkston knows we’re trying to find the Cleaner, then he might try to get rid of him first,” said Hamid.

  “Not a bad idea,” seconded Avery. “Maybe we could use Clarkston’s paranoia and follow him to find the Cleaner.”

  Mom was shaking her head. “We can’t risk going up against Wreckage again. Especially if there’s a possibility that the Cleaner could be there to back him up.”

  “What else can we do?” I cried. “We don’t have any other leads!”

  “Leads?” scoffed Fluffball. “My nose is always a reliable lead!”

  “To find salad, maybe,” I snapped.

  “I don’t like salad,” Hamid jumped in. “Unless it’s at least seventy-five percent croutons.”

  “That’s just like eating a loaf of dried-up bread,” the rabbit argued.

  “What does that have to do with finding the Mastermind?” I asked.

  Fluffball twitched his ears. “You’re the one who brought up the salad, and I think—”

  “SHUT UP!” Avery suddenly bellowed. The kitchen fell silent and we all turned to the girl, who was gripping her forehead as if to keep all her thoughts from spilling out. “Everybody just shut up for a second and let me think.” When she spoke again, her voice was much softer. “Let’s talk about what we know in order of events.”

  “Okay,” I agreed. “The first thing that happened was almost three years ago. Someone put a magical vent cover in my bedroom.”

  “A dampener boon,” said Avery, “to prevent anything magical from getting to you.”

  “And the Mastermind had people watching my family all that time,” I said, “because two years later, my dad came home with a present for me that turned out to be a reversal boon. They didn’t want him to give it to me, so they framed him for robbing a bank and got him arrested.”

  “One year later,” said Avery, “Ms. Vanderbeek and Steve Talbot meet at Gran’s Kitchen, where they find a note from the Cleaner written on a napkin. The next day, the boon storage church was robbed.”

  “And the day after that,” I said, “Vanderbeek came to our house to give our dishwasher a free ‘tune-up,’ which caused it to give us trouble off and on for a month. About that same time, my mom goes to a work party where the raffle drawing was rigged for her to win the music-box boon.”

  “Only, Tom Pedherson threw a wrench in the Mastermind’s plan when he cheated and took your mom’s raffle ticket,” Avery said.

  “He did what?” Mom muttered. “We all thought it was too good to be true that the music box collector won the music box in a raffle drawing.”

  “Because your mom didn’t get the music box,” continued Avery, “Ms. Vanderbeek had to go to your school as a substitute librarian to encourage you to do a book report using a music box.”

  “Then, last Tuesday, the same Ms. Vanderbeek came into our house to fix our dishwasher,” I continued, “giving her an opportunity to go upstairs and steal the vent cover out of my bedroom floor.”

  “Now that the dampener vent was no longer in place,” Avery said, “you’d be able to use the music-box boon and show up on Magix’s radar so they would arrest you.”

  “But none of this explains how I used the music box,” I said. “I was just a random Ig with no knowledge of magical boons.”

  “Not random,” said Avery. “Not if the Mastermind has been watching you for years. There has to be an explanation. Let’s think about how all the boons involved could work together. A transportation music box, a dampener vent cover, and a reversal boon throwing star.”

  “The music box is obvious,” I said. “It had been used in the robbery of the church, so Magix was just waiting for me to activate it again so they’d have a reason to arrest me.”

  “Fluffball,” Avery said, “what effect would a reversal boon have on a dampener?”

  The rabbit twitched his ears. “It’s hard to say without examining them. And technically, you can never use a detector to analyze a dampener because it shuts down the detector.”

  “Then how can anyone get the knowledge of what it does?” I asked.

  “If you’d taken a picture of the vent cover, I could have inspected it,” he answered. “Boon detection works fine through photographs as long as the magical item is clearly visible.”

  “But if you had to guess,” said Avery, “what could a reversal boon do to a dampener?”

  “Well, it would reverse the dampener’s power,” he said. “Maybe turn it into some sort of amplifier.”

  Avery snapped her fingers. “That’s it!” she said.

  “That’s what?” I asked, not following her advanced line of thinking.

  “If a dampener causes boons not to work for Eds,” she explained, “then isn’t it reasonable to assume that a reversal item would cause boons to work for Igs?”

  Fluffball nodded his head. “I guess it’s possible . . .”

  “That’s why the Mastermind didn’t want my dad to bring home the reversal boon,” I said. “Because reversing the power of the vent cover could have caused me to activate a boon without knowledge.”

  “And the Mastermind wasn’t ready for that . . . yet,” said Avery. “Once all the pieces were in place to frame you, they wanted you to activate the music box and get arrested.”

  “But wait,” I said. “In order for that to work, the reversal boon would have to be i
n my house. But the throwing star was at the Kilpacks’ all this time.”

  “Maybe they found another reversal boon that would work,” said Avery.

  “Those are incredibly rare,” said Fluffball, “but it’s possible.”

  “That would mean that the Mastermind’s people brought the reversal boon into my house when the time was right,” I said.

  “Ms. Vanderbeek could have had plenty of opportunities when she was working on the dishwasher,” said Avery.

  “But why would she take the dampener vent cover if they wanted to use its power in reverse?” I asked.

  “The dampener has a lasting effect, remember?” Avery said. “It soaks into the boons around it. Maybe that same lingering power would exist if it were an amplifier. Maybe Vanderbeek exposed the music box to the reversed dampener, letting it soak up some power so you could accidentally activate it in your book report the next day.”

  “But the music box wasn’t even at my house yet,” I pointed out. “Tom Pedherson didn’t bring it by until after ten o’clock that night.”

  “And even if that were true,” my mom chimed in, “why didn’t I activate the music box when I opened it to show Mason at breakfast?”

  “We’re still missing something,” I said.

  “Let’s go back to our suspect list.” Avery dug out her pad of paper. “So far we’ve spoken to your mom, Mrs. Damakis, Hamid, Tom Pedherson, and the pizza guy, who turned out to be Steve Talbot. We also know that the repairwoman, Ms. Vanderbeek, a.k.a. Janet West, was involved. While you were gone, I had Fluffball sniff out the package your mom took inside during her lunch break.”

  “And?” I asked.

  “My nose is a gift to all humankind,” said the rabbit. “But I smelled nothing magical.”

  “We need to find out more about that cleaning salesman my mom talked to,” I said.

  Avery turned to her. “Did he leave a business card? Or any way to contact him?”