Arcade Catastrophe
Page 27

“Not really,” Pigeon replied. “We don’t even know what the stamps mean.”
“Can we buy another stamp?” Summer called.
Todd hustled over. “Which one?”
“I want a tank,” Summer said.
“Nice choice,” Todd said, handing over the stamp. “Two tanks left. You can come by at eleven to get it applied.” He slapped his hands on the counter. “All set?”
“Thanks,” Summer said.
“Great,” Todd replied. “Beat it for now. We have to get ready to open up for the mere mortals.”
“We’re mortals,” Nate said.
Todd squinted and waggled his hand, suggesting that Nate’s statement was iffy. “Maybe part of the time. Not so much when you’re chewing that gum. Hey, I don’t blame you. I miss the days when those kinds of enhancements worked on me. Enjoy it while you can. You get older every day.”
Nate knew that a lot of the magic produced by magicians worked better on young people, which was why they recruited kids. But he hadn’t wondered much about what happened to those kids once they grew up. He wanted to ask follow-up questions, but Cleon was shooing them toward the door. “This plan only works if you leave when you’re supposed to go. We’ll be here tomorrow. We’ll be rooting for you to finish your stamp quest so we can get some proper sleep.”
Pigeon led the way out the side door. Heavy morning traffic clogged Canal Street. At five the street had been quiet—now it was bumper to bumper. They walked down the sidewalk for three blocks, then turned up a side street to the find the white van waiting as promised.
“Earn many tickets?” Victor asked as the kids entered.
“Two stamps and a bunch of extras to put toward tomorrow,” Pigeon replied.
“It was almost too easy,” Summer said.
“Peak Performance takes the challenge out of it,” Trevor said. “We’re lucky they didn’t stop us from using it.”
“They want resourceful people,” Nate said. “They just didn’t want us showing off in front of other customers.”
“Watch yourselves,” Victor cautioned. “If they know you have magical enhancers, they know you’re involved with another magician. I can’t imagine they’ll be quick to trust you.”
“Do you think they’re setting us up?” Pigeon asked.
“One way or another, I’m sure they are,” Ziggy said.
“John needs us,” Nate said. “I have a meeting at ten. Summer at eleven. It might be risky, but at least we’ll finally get a chance to learn more about what’s going on. Hopefully it’s not too late to help our friends.”
Chapter Nine
Jets
Nate felt nervous as he approached the redemption counter ten minutes early. He tried to persuade himself that he wasn’t as alone as he felt. Trevor, Summer, and Pigeon were stationed nearby with Shock Bits, Flame Outs, and other candy. The Battiatos waited right outside, ready to charge to the rescue.
Nate had debated over whether to bring any magical candy to the meeting. In the end, he decided that since the arcade employees seemed to already suspect he had been using magical candy, it couldn’t hurt to have some on him in case of an emergency. He had two doses of Shock Bits, two Moon Rocks, and a Frost Bite. He would have liked to have brought a Sweet Tooth, but none of Mrs. White’s remained, and Mr. Stott had failed when he had tried to replicate them.
A trio of teenagers stood at the glass counter choosing prizes. Nate didn’t recognize the woman helping them. A hand clamped down on his shoulder from behind.
“You’re early,” Cleon said. His hair and sideburns looked more styled than they had this morning. His shirt had a glossy sheen and rhinestone buttons.
“Better than late,” Nate replied.
“Let’s head on back.”
Nate followed Cleon through a different EMPLOYEES ONLY door than he had used on his previous visit behind the scenes at Arcadeland. Soon they moved along a cramped, concrete hallway crowded with pipes and electrical equipment.
“So this is where the magic happens,” Nate said.
“Trust me, kid,” Cleon replied. “The magic around here isn’t in the plumbing or the wiring.”
They stopped in front of a wooden door.
“Here we are,” Cleon said. “Be polite. This is no joke. You brought the stamp?”
Nate held it up.
Cleon opened the door, revealing a plain room where a lone man sat at a bare table. He had black, wild hair, either gelled or greasy, and a thin beard that traced his jawline and circled his lips. His face was creased enough that Nate wondered whether he dyed his hair to hide his gray. The man wore white gloves and a loose coat fancifully embroidered with many colors.
“Can I get you anything?” Cleon asked respectfully.
The man waved him away, then indicated the only other chair in the room to Nate. Cleon closed the door, and Nate sat facing the man across the flimsy table.
“I understand you won a jet stamp,” the man said in a syrupy voice.
“That’s right,” Nathan said cautiously.
The man leaned forward, extending a gloved hand. “We haven’t been introduced. I’m Jonas White.”
“Nate. Nathan Sutter.” Nate shook his hand.
“Rhymes with stutter. You may have known my sister. Belinda?”
Nate was unsure how to reply. “You’re related to Belinda White?”
“Only by blood.”
“She opened that candy shop in Colson,” Nate said, hoping his voice sounded neutral.
“And then mysteriously vanished. I can tell you’re tense, Nate. You should be. I’ve spoken with a source close to the incident. You were involved. Another magician took possession of the candy shop—Sebastian Stott. Are you working for him?”
“I know him,” Nate said. “He’s given me some candy. I don’t work for him.”
“Good to hear,” Jonas said. “Whether or not you’re telling the truth, if I let you keep that stamp, you’ll work for me.”
“I thought I owned the stamp.”
“Let me rephrase,” Jonas amended. “If I grant access to the ink that will make that stamp mean something, you will work for me.”
“Doing what?”
“I’m a treasure hunter, Nate, and I could use some help.”
“What kind of treasure?”
“Not water from the Fountain of Youth,” Jonas assured him. “That well has run dry, at least around these parts. No, I’m looking for an older, more significant prize. Have you heard of the mage Iwa Iza?”