The Magic Misfits - Neil Patrick Harris Page 0,18

mother.

Suddenly embarrassed, Mrs. Larsen said, “Excuse me, please.” She made her way up the stairs.

When she was safely out of earshot, the Other Mr. Vernon whispered to the group, “Ridley’s mother is not wrong.”

His husband drew his dark brows together. “I thought I made it clear that you all needed to not be seen together?” He didn’t sound angry. He didn’t sound disappointed. He did, however, sound tired, like Ridley’s mom.

“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you, Dad,” said Leila. “It’s just, Ridley had this awful experience today at the inventors’ fair in Bell’s Landing and we—”

“What kind of awful experience?” Mr. Vernon asked, looking at Ridley.

But Carter continued, “A woman, who was acting hypnotized, smashed up her invention project with a shovel.”

“Oh, that is awful. I’m so sorry, Ridley.”

“But that’s not everything,” said Leila. “All of us, over the past few days, have had similar encounters with people who were acting mesmerized. Remember the grocery store?” Mr. Vernon nodded, concerned. “The cashier kept saying, ‘What have I done,’ over and over.”

Theo spoke up. “And that is what an usher said to me at a concert with my parents, right before he pretended to slip and fall on top of me.”

And Izzy added, “Me and Olly too. There was a guest at the resort who ruined our performance in the lobby. He was saying the same thing: ‘What have I done? What have I done?’”

Olly nodded. “I wanted to tell him, ‘You ruined our performance! That’s what you’ve done, ya dum-dum!’ But I didn’t get a chance.”

Mr. Vernon looked at each member of the Magic Misfits as if they had just told him that the magic shop had reappeared and then blown up again. He shook his head at the Other Mr. Vernon. “This is not good. Not good at all.”

“It’s gone from frightening to outright dangerous, Dante.” The Other Mr. Vernon twisted his hands together.

“Ridley thinks that we should start meeting up again in public,” Carter blurted out. Ridley slapped the arm of her chair in frustration, and a puff of smoke erupted from a hidden compartment under her seat. (This was one of Ridley’s favorite ways to express her annoyance. Much simpler than something that could be misconstrued, like words, don’t you agree?)

“Sorry, Ridley. Didn’t mean to spill the beans. It’s just…” Carter turned to Mr. Vernon. “What if Kalagan never left Mineral Wells?”

“We don’t even know what he looks like,” said Leila.

“Sure we do!” said Olly. “He wears a top hat and a cloak!”

“She means the man’s face,” Ridley quipped. “Can you describe him, Mr. V.? All we’ve ever seen is that old picture of the Emerald Ring club.”

Mr. Vernon rubbed at his brow. “I haven’t seen Kilroy Kalagan since we were kids. And even back then he was always changing his appearance, his hair color, his style. I don’t think I’d recognize the man today if he were standing right in front of me.”

Carter stood. “So, what do we do, Dante? Should the Magic Misfits stay hidden? Should we stop meeting at all?”

“It seems to me that this is not about the Magic Misfits,” the Other Mr. Vernon considered.

“Indubitably,” Mr. Vernon replied. “What’s going on now is about something larger.”

“That is what I said,” Theo mentioned. “Kalagan wants to—”

SMASH!

The window at the side of the house crashed inward. Splintered glass scattered across the living room rug, and something landed in the middle of the floor with a house-shaking WHUMP.

Leila and Carter yelped and jumped up onto the love seat. Theo pressed himself against the nearest wall. Olly and Izzy clutched each other and covered their heads. Mr. Vernon raised his cape to shield Ridley, while Ms. Parkly watched astonished from the foyer.

“Away from the windows!” said the Other Mr. Vernon.

“Is everyone all right?” asked Mr. Vernon.

The group checked themselves. Thankfully, they had all been out of the way of the flying glass.

A moment later, Ridley wheeled over to the object that had further shattered their evening. Reaching to the floor, she struggled to pick up a heavy parcel wrapped in butcher paper and brown twine. “Careful, Ridley,” Mr. Vernon warned, but she had already untied the string and was peeling away the wrapping. Underneath, there appeared something gritty and red. Ridley brushed her finger against it, gathering up pink dust. It was a brick. Ridley rested it in her lap, then turned the butcher paper over. Someone had scrawled out a message in waxy black pencil.

Ridley read it aloud, “What… Have… I… Done?” She glanced up at