by Elena Paige
Text and cover art copyright © Elena Paige, 2018
The right of Elena Paige to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her.
Cover illustration by Andrew Gaia
Cover design by Deranged Doctor Design
Published by Angelos Publishing
Paperback ISBN: 978-1-925557-60-2
Hardback ISBN: 978-1-925557-61-9
Ebook ISBN: 978-1-925557-59-6
Audio Book ISBN: 978-1-925557-62-6
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for use in brief quotations in a book review. This book is for entertainment purposes only and all characters are fictitious.
BOOKS IN THIS SERIES
Book 1: The Magicians’ Convention
Book 2: The Magicians’ Academy
Book 3: The Magicians’ Battle
Prequel: The Greatest Magician
Contents
1. The Curious People Across the Street
2. A Mysterious Visitor
3. The Empty House
4. Triple Trouble
5. The 999th Magicians’ Convention
6. Alexander Kirby
7. The Fire Mage
8. Three Silent Swords
9. Deadly Explosions
10. Aden McDermott
11. A Clever Disguise
12. How To Do a Magic Trick
13. The Search Begins
14. The Seer
15. The Ancient Relic
16. Frozen
17. A Secret Hideout
18. The Paper Plane
19. Useless Magic
20. Triple Trouble Returns
21. Home Once More
22. The Truth Revealed
23. The Fiordi Hat
24. The Shapeshifter
25. A Heroic End
26. Merlin’s Heirs
27. The Letter
THE GREATEST MAGICIAN
THE RELUCTANT MAGICIAN
AGATHA
A note from the author
EXPLORE OTHER BOOKS BY ELENA PAIGE
1
The Curious People Across the Street
Tingles of excitement ran down his spine, like electricity searching for Earth. Toby peered carefully from behind the curtain, so as not to be seen. Something important was happening across the street. He could feel it in his bones.
Why would so many people be lined up outside Mrs. Inkwell’s house so early on a Sunday morning? Toby looked up and down the rest of the street. The neighbors’ shutters were all still closed. He glanced at his clock. It was just past eight. The only person who ever visited Mrs. Inkwell was her granddaughter Abby. Besides, how would so many people even fit inside a one-bedroom house with a kitchen as small as a bathroom?
What was particularly strange about the people lined up outside was their attire. Toby squinted his eyes to make sure they weren’t deceiving him. All the adults in the line wore long black cloaks. Being an avid reader, Toby would have instantly decided they were vampires had it not been for the hats they all wore. Top hats. He decided on the spot they must all be magicians. But this didn’t quite fit either because their long elegant hats weren’t black.
As the light autumn breeze blew across the narrow little street, the cloaks danced about in the light, revealing inner linings of either purple or golden stars to match their hats.
Toby watched in awe as the line shuffled forward. If only he could get a view of Mrs. Inkwell’s front door so he could see if she was letting them in. But alas, it was hidden by the large banksia tree in her yard.
“Maybe they’re going through a magic portal,” said Toby.
“New book you’re reading?”
Startled, Toby turned to see his grandpa standing at the bedroom door.
“Grandpa, I told you to knock,” said Toby.
“Ah yes. I keep forgetting. You’re a teenager now.” He walked into the room and sat on the bed surveying the mess.
“You’ve got to see this to believe it, Grandpa,” said Toby.
“The magic portal, you mean? Oh, it’s outside your window, is it?”
“No, not that. The line of people outside Mrs. Inkwell’s house. If only I could see her front door.” Beads of sweat were forming on his forehead. Toby glanced at Grandpa, wondering why he was still sitting on the bed.
“So, what’s happening at Florence’s house? That cute little granddaughter of hers come visiting again?”
“No, not Abby. It’s complete strangers.” Why was Grandpa not looking for himself?
“And”—emphasized Toby—“Abby is boring. All she ever talks about are her annoying dolls. What ten-year-old still plays with dolls? ”
Grandpa was constantly nagging him to spend more time with her when she was visiting her Grandma.
“Well, I think lots of ten-year-olds still play with dolls. They just don’t admit it. I like Abby. She has spunk. Besides, there’s no hurry to grow up, is there?”
Toby rolled his eyes.
“So what will it be for breakfast this morning? Eggs or pancakes?”
“Whatever, Grandpa. You choose. But first, seriously, come and see the people outside.” Toby pulled the curtains aside, pointing to the people lined up only yards away in the narrow little street. Grandpa entertained him with a quick glance outside.
“The sun is shining brightly on this lovely autumn day in Moonee Ponds. Florence Inkwell’s quaint little cottage is looking peaceful across the way. No sign of Abby, and not even a possum looking for breakfast this morning.”
Confused, Toby looked back outside. “Grandpa! Stop kidding around. Don’t you think it’s strange all those people visiting Mrs. Inkwell? And dressed like that.”
“To be honest, I can’t see anyone at all,” said Grandpa, being serious now.
Toby knitted his eyebrows together. “You can’t see anyone outside? Stop kidding around,” he said. Toby scrunched his face in frustration.
“Nope. Not a soul. Not even Florence herself is up yet by the looks. Toby, what’s this really about? Are you still angry at me because I refuse to buy you a television?”
Toby turned his back on Grandpa. What was going on? Could Grandpa really not see them? Had all the people already vanished inside Mrs. Inkwell’s house? There were at least a few hundred lined all the way up the street when he had last looked. He glanced back outside, relieved to see them all still there. “It’s nothing to do with the TV, Grandpa. Tell me the truth. You can’t see a line of people outside? There are literally hundreds of them.”
“Oh, are we playing a game? Sure. I can see a bunch of people outside,” said Grandpa, repeating Toby’s words. He put one hand to his forehead as though looking far into the distance. “Ah yes, I see. There’s a crowd of people all standing around Florence Inkwell.” He paused as he scratched his bald head for ideas. “And she just pulled out a broomstick. Yes, she’s really a witch!” Impressed with himself, he chuckled. “How’s that for a story?”
“Stop it, Grandpa. It’s not funny. This is real.” The blood rushed to Toby’s head. “Look properly. You seriously can’t see anyone outside?”
Grandpa humored him and looked again. “Nobody. Not a soul. I think you need some breakfast. Did you stay up late reading again last night?”
“You can’t see a single person standing outside wearing a top hat and cloak?” persisted Toby. His voice bounced off his blue bedroom walls, hitting him in the pit of his stomach.
“Top hats and cloaks? This is more serious than I thought. How about we
get some breakfast and investigate together afterward. What do you say?”
Toby decided it would be best if he figured this out himself. “I’m not hungry. I think I’ll skip breakfast and, um, read a book.” He quickly grabbed one of his many books from the shelf close by and lay on his bed reading. He took deep breaths to calm himself down.
“Suit yourself. But you might want to read the book the right way up. Reading upside down could cause some serious damage. Teenagers!” Grandpa laughed to himself and walked out, closing the bedroom door behind him.
“I’m not a teenager until I turn thirteen. I only just turned twelve!” yelled Toby after him.
He was used to Grandpa joking around with him and playing pranks. If this was another one of his jokes, he’d really gone too far. That many people outside his window on a Sunday morning would go down in history as the best prank ever.
He threw the book across the room and jumped up, drawn back to his window. There they were plain as day. The people had moved forward considerably since he had last looked, and at least a few hundred more had joined the line, which now trailed down the street.
Was it a prank, or could he be hallucinating? Only one way to find out. He would sneak out across the street and investigate.
2
A Mysterious Visitor
Toby pulled off his pajamas and dug through the pile of clothes on the carpet. A pair of jeans. A blue T-shirt. That would do. He peered out the window one last time as he put on his socks. He was planning to sneak across the street while Grandpa was distracted cooking breakfast and find out if those people were real!
A loud banging noise reverberated through the house, interrupting his thoughts. Had Grandpa dropped the pan again while attempting not to burn the pancakes? Forgetting about the people lined up outside for the moment, Toby ran along the hallway and slid down the stair bannister. “You really are Mr. Butterfingers,” he joked.
But the kitchen was empty. Grandpa wasn’t there.
“Grandpa? Where are you?”
Toby wondered if he’d gone outside to investigate the crowd. As he ran toward the front door, he heard another loud banging noise, this time coming from the living room. Doubling back, Toby ran down the hall, beginning to worry. As he neared the open doorway, he heard glass smashing.
“Grandpa!” he called. His heart was beating so fast he feared he would faint at any moment.
As he turned the corner, Toby froze in terror. “Don’t faint. Don’t faint. Don’t faint,” he chanted, recalling the many times he had fainted in his life. At least twenty-five by his last count. He couldn’t help it. Every time he felt nervous or overwhelmed, which was often, he would faint.
Toby could feel his veins pulsing. Standing in front of him was a giant black panther. Toby wanted to yell out for Grandpa. He wanted to run. He even wanted to faint, but with his stomach turned upside down and his legs as firm as jelly, he just stood there instead, paralyzed.
The panther posed in the middle of the room atop the coffee table. Toby’s eyes darted from the shiny cat to the glass vase it was balancing between its front paws. Glancing across the room, he saw the matching vase shattered on the carpet.
They were Grandpa’s favorite Kosta Boda vases. Tongue-tied, he bit his lip, searching for the right words to address the intruder. Before he could muster the courage to speak, the panther tossed the other vase against the wall, small pieces of blue-and-clear glass falling all over the leather couch.
It was enough to snap Toby out of his trance. Not really thinking, he picked up the closest thing to him, the record player—Grandpa’s other most favorite thing after the vases—and threw it full force at the panther. Not looking to see whether he hit his mark, he turned back toward the doorway and ran.
Darkness and fur enveloped him as he reeled backward. He had run straight into the panther, which must have jumped over him to block his escape. He fell to the ground, landing right on top of the record player, which was now lying in fragmented pieces all over the carpet. Sorry, Grandpa, he thought.
“Enough of this. I need your attention! It’s time you listened.”
Toby rubbed his eyes for the second time that day. The words were definitely coming from the panther. He visibly trembled as it sauntered toward him, pawing at the carpet, making small rips in it as it came closer.
“I know you’re a dream,” said Toby, not at all confident in his words.
“And are the people lined up outside also a dream?” said the panther. It’s voice was deep and melodic, somehow soothing while also terrifying at the same time.
“Yep. Definitely a dream. You can come into my room and wake me up now, Grandpa!”
“Enough!” yelled the panther, now face to face with Toby.
Using every bit of power he had not to faint, Toby lay down flat, closing his eyes instead. He rubbed his face with vigor. “Please, Toby, wake up!”
“Do you want me to break this too? Will that get your attention and make you believe I am not a dream?” said the panther.
Toby sat back up, his breath thick with fear. His eyes stretched as wide as they could humanly go. The panther was holding the one and only picture of his mother and father. He couldn’t remember them at all. He had only been two when they had died .
“No, please! I’m listening. What do you want?”
The panther placed the framed photo of the young smiling couple back on the mantle. “Good. Now listen carefully. I have taken your grandfather. Kidnapped him. And hidden him well, so you needn’t try to find him,” it warned, as though reading Toby’s mind.
Toby felt like vomiting as he heard the words. Grandpa had been taken? Why?
“You’re wondering why?” The panther paused as though reading his mind again. As it sat comfortably on its back legs, it looked more human than cat. It stroked its face as though deciding what it would say next. Its stark green eyes never moved from Toby. “You need to join the line of magicians outside.”
Adrenaline finally arrived as Toby stood up and defied the panther. “No, I don’t. They’re not even real. Grandpa couldn’t see them.”
“That doesn’t mean they aren’t there. Not everyone can see them. You’re special. You’re magical.” The panther leaned backward, yawning as though it was tired of explaining the obvious.
“Please just give me back Grandpa. I’m sure you have the wrong house. We’re not who you think we are. Please let him go!”
The panther laughed. “Oh, I have the right house and the right boy. You are Toby Roberts, are you not?” said the black panther, softening its voice.
The panther started pacing back and forth.
Toby’s frustration was rising. “And what am I meant to do once I’ve joined the line of magicians? I don’t know any magic. I don’t even believe in magic. ”
The panther roared. It pounced on Toby, pushing him to the floor. Its sharp white teeth stopped short just in time.
“All right. Fine. I’ll do whatever you want,” he yelled, struggling to breathe under the weight of the panther.
“Magic is real!” it roared in his face. He had obviously offended it. Toby’s hair blew backward from the force of its words.
“Just follow the other magicians. I will come again when you’re ready to listen.” And with that, the panther vanished into thin air.
Toby caught his breath. He didn’t dare move in case the panther was still lurking about. But his mind was racing.
Was he really just talking to a black panther? Was the line of people outside real after all? Had Grandpa been kidnapped? And was magic real? As the blood rushed to his head, faster than he could answer his own questions, Toby finally gave in and fainted.
3
The Empty House
Toby lay with his eyes squeezed shut, hoping with all his might that he was still in bed dreaming. He had, after all, stayed up reading late into the night.
Every night the last thing he did before falling asleep was read, followed by asking, wishing, praying tha
t his own life might one day be more adventurous than it had been up until now. But all he could do in this moment was regret his nightly wish.
He peeled one eye open and saw broken glass all around him. He willed himself to get up, realizing he must have fainted. He was lying in his living room, and as he spotted the broken record player, he remembered that the black panther had claimed to kidnap Grandpa.
He had to do something. Toby jumped to his feet and scoured the house for Grandpa. He wasn’t ready to believe that he’d really been kidnapped by a talking black panther. Calling out as he looked through each room in the house for signs of life, he started to panic. Grandpa was nowhere to be found.
He returned to the living room, thinking back to the black panther’s last instructions before it had disappeared—to join the line of people outside. Magicians, it had called them. Were the people even still there?
He ran back up to his bedroom. Strange , he thought. The door was closed when he was sure he had left it open. He opened it cautiously and stepped inside. His bed was now made and his clothes had been piled up neatly in one corner. Had the panther come in here after it left? He knew it couldn’t have been Grandpa. He refused to tidy up Toby’s room—it was one of his many rules.
Toby walked to his window cautiously and looked outside. There was still a line of people out there as plain as day. Big green eyes connected with his own. A young girl no older than six or seven was looking straight at him.
He instinctively ducked out of sight. He counted to ten to slow his beating heart and moved one eye out from behind the curtain. Yep. She was definitely looking straight at him. She twirled her silken blonde hair with her small chubby fingers, rocking to and fro on her feet, and motioned him to come. She tugged at a woman’s sleeve, pointing toward Toby’s window. But the woman ignored the child’s call for attention.
Toby fell back on his bed, exhausted and confused. He stared absentmindedly at the dangling plastic stars and planets strewn across his bedroom ceiling and tried to gather his thoughts. Should he cross the road and join the line? Or just call the police? He imagined trying to explain the talking panther to them .