The Magic Misfits - Neil Patrick Harris Page 0,38

incredibly magical silk scarf. Or is it a caftan? It is so large, I am not sure exactly what it is supposed to be.”

“A tent!” Izzy said.

“Bigger than a tent! An elevent!” Olly countered.

“What’s an elevent?” Leila asked.

“Nothin’. What’s an elevent with you?”

“Whatever the case,” said Theo, getting them back on track, “would you mind holding it up one last time?”

Theo went ahead with the trick he’d done for Ridley’s surprise. He played his violin and levitated behind the Goldens’ magical silk cloth. When Theo’s final note resounded into the cave system behind him, coming back out as a haunting sotto voce echo, Dean was so impressed—or was pretending to be—he nearly fell backward off his boulder.

Now it was Ridley’s turn. She moved toward her magic box that was standing upright a little farther back, the bottom perched on the remnants of the old tracks. “Thank you, Theo,” she said. “For my trick, I shall need a volunteer from the audience.”

Dean let out a huh-yuck and then looked around, as if maybe some of the other hotel staff had joined him. When he realized he was alone, he pressed his hand to his chest and called out, “Me?”

“If you don’t mind,” Ridley said, forcing what felt like the largest smile she’d ever worn. She released a latch on the side of her black magic box and the front of it creaked open like the lid of a coffin. Ridley’s heart skipped as Dean crossed the entry of the cave.

“In there?” he asked, looking skeptically at the contraption. “What are you going to do?”

“Oh, nothing much,” Ridley joked. “Just turn you into a grizzly bear!”

Dean raised his eyebrows. He shrugged, stepped up into the box, and then turned around. “Comfy?” Ridley asked. Dean chuckled, then nodded. Ridley grabbed the edge of the lid and swung it shut. She flipped a switch. Several bolts slid into place, locking the lid tightly.

Ridley finally let her smile drop away.

Dean wasn’t going anywhere now.

Not until she let him.

EIGHTEEN

Theo and Leila rushed to Ridley’s side of the box; Carter, Olly, and Izzy gathered at the other.

“Can he get out?” Leila asked.

Ridley shook her head. “The bolts are strong. I tested them in my lab.”

Carter reached out toward the box, but then drew his hands quickly away. “What do we do?”

Ridley reached up toward the little door she’d attached to the box’s lid earlier that week. “We get some answers,” she said. Flipping a small clasp, she pulled on a nearly hidden peg and the little door swung open.

Dean’s face was framed just inside. He wore a goofy grin. “Hey, all,” he said. His eyes flicked to Ridley. “I’ve gotta tell you I’m not so sure about your trick, Ridley. I don’t feel anything like a grizzly bear.” He let out another laugh. But when he noticed the anxious expressions that were plastered on the faces of the Magic Misfits, his own grew concerned. “What’s wrong? Did I mess things up? Let me out. I’ll be better next time.”

“I can’t do that, Dean.”

“Very funny.” The lid shuddered as he pushed at it from inside. “Come on, girl. I don’t like this one bit. Let old Dean out of here.”

“We’ll let you out,” said Ridley, “if you answer some questions first.”

“Ohh,” Dean said with a sigh. “This is all part of your act.”

Time to get serious, Ridley thought. “No,” she said. “It’s not.”

Through the porthole, the group watched Dean’s face pale. “Let me out of here!” he cried. “Help! Help!” There were pounding sounds as the old man realized the situation he was in.

“Ridley,” Leila said with a whimper. “I don’t like this.”

“None of us do,” said Ridley, trying to hold on to the assuredness she’d felt while building this contraption. “But he’s left us no choice.”

“I’ve been trapped in small spaces myself,” Leila went on. “Isn’t there another way?”

“Help me!” Dean called out again, his voice echoing out of the cave.

“Dean!” Ridley said with all the force she could muster. “You’ll be fine in no time. Just answer our questions. Okay?”

Dean trembled. All of the fight seemed to have left him. ““What… what is it you want to know?”

Ridley turned to her friends. “What is it we want to know?”

The Misfits dug in. They piled on the questions faster than Dean could answer them. They asked about the name he’d given them a few nights prior: Fred P. Tithe. They asked about the anagram and the fire pit. They wanted to know what Dean knew about the