The Magic Misfits - Neil Patrick Harris Page 0,54

about the note she had not left for her mother, and a coolness came upon her skin. Maybe it was the evening air wafting in from outside, or maybe it was something else, something that was inside her. The people blocking the way to the loading dock and the people fighting in the orchestra seats were her neighbors and acquaintances. They were the people her mom sped past on the street, the people who made Mineral Wells what it was. If Ridley didn’t do something, if she plowed right past everyone to the exit, she’d become exactly like her mother. She had to stop all of this.

And she had an idea of how.

She flipped the power switch on the cord, and the speakers at the front of the stage came alive. She tapped the mic, and the sound resonated around the room. For a moment, it seemed as though everyone might suddenly halt what they were doing, but the moment passed and the fighting continued.

“Friends!” Ridley called out. “Please!” The room hushed and all the faces turned toward her. “Stop what you’re doing. I beg you. We know the truth. A horrible man has been recording you for months. He knows all your secrets, your deepest embarrassments, and your worst fears. He’ll reveal everything if you don’t do his bidding. But this is not worth whatever secret you think you need to keep!”

An electric buzzing filled the room as the single bulb on the ghost light stand began to dim. It flickered briefly and then went out.

Chaos erupted again—the sounds of scuffling in the darkness.

There came a loud click, and the stage suddenly flooded with light. Ridley blinked and held up her hand, shading her eyes. To her horror, she noticed that several townspeople had slipped into the slim space between the guardians and the Misfits.

Ridley and her friends had been corralled next to the steep drop-off by the orchestra pit. The mesmerized people on the stage with them were holding garden tools from the caretaker’s shed as weapons. Pitchforks, shears, rusted shovels caked with hard earth. They pointed them at the guardians and at the Vernons, who stood helpless with their hands raised.

Magic tricks would be no defense now.

There was a ripple of shadow in the corner of Ridley’s vision, and when she turned, she saw a man standing next to the ghost light. His top hat was tilted mockingly, and his black cloak draped down to the floor. His collar still hid his face, but everyone here knew who he was. The fighting instantly stopped as all of the mesmerized townspeople turned to face their tormentor and master. Kalagan chuckled, then undid the bow under his chin. The cloak dropped to the floor as he knocked the hat away, revealing an ordinary-looking man dressed in denim jeans and a wrinkled beige linen shirt. Ridley knew that face. She’d seen it earlier in the week, in the alleyway behind the abandoned movie theater.

It really was Carter’s uncle Sly.

It was Kalagan.

They were one and the same.

He tilted his face toward the light, like someone who was seeing the sun for the first time in decades, and then raised his hands to the crowd. “Welcome, everyone, at long last, to our grand finale!” Ridley expected the mesmerized people to break into applause, but only confused silence followed. Her friends huddled close to her chair. Ridley had never felt so helpless. Kalagan dipped his head as if bowing. “I have asked you here this evening to celebrate Mineral Wells’s golden son.” He held out his hand to Mr. Vernon. “Come on, Dante. Take a bow!”

One of Kalagan’s cronies moved toward the Vernons with a shovel, forcing them apart. Dante stepped away from his husband and the guardians and into Kalagan’s spotlight. He did not bow. Instead, he looked to the Misfits, tears welling in his eyes. This frightened Ridley more than anything that had come before. If Mr. Vernon had lost hope, what did that mean for the rest of them?

“I said bow,” Kalagan growled.

Mr. Vernon only glared at the man. “What do you want, Kilroy?” he asked.

“Oh-ho,” Kalagan chortled. “What a question. Why don’t you ask the children?” He glanced to the Misfits. “They’ve been doing their research. Apparently, they know all about what I want and what I need.”

“I’m asking you,” Mr. Vernon insisted with an air of calm.

This seemed to annoy the man. He grumbled to himself for a moment before regaining his composure and directing his voice to