The Magic Misfits - Neil Patrick Harris Page 0,62

done it, they were too distracted to notice when Kincaid came back and picked their pockets.”

Ridley felt like she couldn’t breathe. But she could not stop listening to Dean’s tale. Everyone else seemed just as transfixed, especially as Dean was now standing perfectly straight, a feat none of them had thought possible for the old man.

“Kilroy and Kincaid. The Kalagan boys. Or boy, as they had everyone believing. Augustus and Diana taught their sons everything they knew. And when the brothers made friends in town with a ragtag group of kid magicians, they began to learn even more tricks. They grew preoccupied with the idea of mesmerism. Because the thing was, being raised as one person made the twins feel like they had no control over their lives. Manipulating other people felt to them like real magic. And life with their new friends felt like real magic too.”

Ridley glanced at Mr. Vernon, who looked utterly baffled. Dean gave one last swipe of the handkerchief across his mouth. He held up the cloth, presenting it to the group as if it were part of a magic trick. And Ridley supposed that it was; the handkerchief was smudged with what looked like makeup.

“The magic died on the day of the West Lodge fire.” Now Dean started scratching at the base of his nose, his eyes continuously moving from one Misfit to the next, then to the Vernons, and back to each Misfit, as if he wanted to be sure they couldn’t look away. “With their parents gone, Kilroy and Kincaid decided to keep up the charade. But living at Mother Margaret’s Home was difficult, especially since only one of them could show their face at any given moment. The other had to stay out on the streets, hot or cold, rain or shine, sleet or snow. They switched places every night so that each could be fed and sleep in a bed and wash up. And that’s how they spent the next few years. Lying. Faking. Cheating. Just getting by. They always remembered what their parents taught them, and they made it work, better than Augustus and Diana ever could.”

To Ridley’s horror, Dean suddenly pulled what looked like a flap of skin right off his face—and his whole nose with it! Ugh! But there was something underneath… It’s a prosthetic, she realized. A fake nose, on a fake face, on a body made to look much older than it really was.

Throwing the pretend nose to the ground, Dean quickly unbuttoned his jacket and slipped that off too. Underneath was a white tank top. When he ran his hands through his hair once more, he looked like a totally different person.

He looked like Carter’s uncle Sly.

He looked like Kalagan.

Ridley nearly screamed. Carter and Leila grabbed at each other’s hands. Olly and Izzy hopped, skipped, and jumped to their guardians’ sides as Theo’s face paled and his eyes grew huge. Ridley felt Ms. Parkly’s hand suddenly on her shoulder. The Other Mr. Vernon struggled to hold up his husband, who had sagged at the revelation.

Dean the bellhop had not only been a disguise. He had been an act—a performance to rival those at the Grand Oak theater. This had to be a dream, Ridley thought. A nightmare.

Dean’s eyes darted to Carter, whose mouth was a perfect O. “Hello, boy,” he said, his voice suddenly raspy. Carter stumbled backward, nearly hitting the wall. “Recognize me? You wondered how your uncle Sly could be in so many places at once? Same thing with our Kalagan character. It was a cinch when there were two of us.”

“Kincaid?” Mr. Vernon asked gently, as if speaking any louder might set off a box of TNT.

The man who had been Dean nodded. “Yes, Dante?”

“You stated at the beginning that you want us to lend you a hand. What kind of hand would that be?”

“I want you to get Kilroy out of the Mineral Wells Jail.”

“You know we can’t do that,” the Other Mr. Vernon said warily.

“I know you can. Leila gave her skeleton key to Sandra Santos over the summer.” His dark eyes flipped to Sandra’s face. “You must still have it.”

“I—I don’t,” Sandra stammered. “Not here. Not anymore.”

Ridley couldn’t tell if the woman was lying—it had once been her job after all.

Dean stepped forward.

Or Kincaid, rather.

No…

Kalagan.

Let’s just call him Kalagan.

Kalagan stepped forward, placing his hands into his pants pockets. Did he have a weapon? Ridley was too far away from him to fight him with her chair. “You’re going