Magic Required, Page 2

  The man was standing beneath a tree outside the hotel. He took out a small notebook and scribbled down a few things. Then he moved over to his car, which was parked in a far corner of the lot and positioned in such a way that he could keep an eye on the front door of the hotel.

  The man climbed into the vehicle and prepared to wait out the night.

  The low-level human was named Jon, and he was not complicated. His life in the past ten years had been all about his job, where rich people paid him to take care of unpleasant things for them. Jon would fix the problem, get paid, and move on to the next project without a thought. He wasn’t complicated, he wasn’t moral, and he also wasn’t memorable, at least not in the classical sense. He was pale, bland, and balding—three things no respectable piece of fruit would like to be called, much less a human. His looks were, however, good for blending into the scenery, which worked well in his line of business. When he was thirteen, Jon had taken an aptitude test at school. The results had suggested that when he grew up, he should be a seat filler at large events that didn’t want empty seats during a live broadcast.

  Well, Jon was living up to the seat-filling part of that prophecy as he sat in his car staring out at the front of the Hampton Inn.

  Jon was no stranger to tracking Sigi and Ozzy. He had been hired in New York by a man named Ray to find the boy. Once he found him, he had given Ozzy a package that had contained a plane ticket. Jon had followed the teenagers to the Portland airport, where Ozzy and Sigi had gotten onto a plane and flown to New York. When the two kids had returned to Oregon, Jon had tried in vain to take Ozzy as a captive. He had failed at every turn. The failure, he felt, was largely brought about by the strange man that the children were traveling with—a grown man pretending to be a wizard. At least Jon thought he was pretending. As events had unfolded, he had witnessed numerous things that had changed his mind. In the beginning he thought that Rin was nothing but an eccentric weirdo living his life in permanent cosplay. Then, as Rin performed wonder after wonder, Jon’s distaste for the man turned into a need to find out where the wizard’s power came from. Jon had been blown away when Rin had silenced his voice, and he had almost blown apart as Rin had destroyed the Spell Boat.

  Jon had seen the light by escaping death.

  Because of his change of heart, Jon no longer worked for Ray. He was working for himself, determined to find out what power Rin really possessed. He was a believer of sorts, and he wanted to be a part of the mystery that Rin had shown him.

  Jon wasn’t sure if Rin was magic, but he also wasn’t sure that the wizard was not.

  What Jon did know was that watching Rin’s actions had struck a chord within his soul. There was something about the wizard and the two kids and the impossible metal bird that made him feel things he had never felt before.

  And Jon wanted more of that feeling.

  After that fateful night on the ocean, he had come back a different person. He had rented a motel room in Corvallis, Oregon, and after recovering mentally from what he had been through, he had begun to track Ozzy and Sigi’s movements again. This time, however, he was doing it for himself in hopes of finding Rin.

  The two children weren’t as easy to track. They had cops pinned to them and were never on their own. Even now Jon knew that there was a policeman parked in front of the hotel watching for trouble.

  Ray, the man who had hired Jon, would have loved to have him finish the job and bring Ozzy to him in New York. But Ray didn’t even know that Jon had survived the night in the ocean. So chances were good that Ray had hired someone else to find Ozzy. Which meant that as Jon spied on Sigi and her mom from beneath the trees at the hotel’s parking lot, there could very well be another spy doing the same thing.

  The forgettable man scanned the dark parking lot. He saw a cop car parked near the front, and a reasonable number of other cars. But he was in the farthest parking space with no one around.

  Jon sighed.

  The job had started off easy: deliver a package to one kid. It had turned into something personal, complicated, and otherworldly. A simple job he could have done in his sleep had turned into an impossible quest, a mystery that could only be explained by the supernatural.

  Jon shivered.

  There was a knock at his car window. A security guard was standing next to his car. The tall, skinny man sporting a badge motioned for him to roll down his window.

  Jon did so.

  “Yes?” he asked.

  “Are you a guest here?” the guard asked in a neutral tone. “Are you staying at the hotel?

  “I’m thinking about it,” Jon replied.

  “Well, you’ll need to think about it somewhere else,” the guard insisted. “The hotel is full for the night, and you can’t park here. It’s private property.”

  “Right,” Jon said, “let me just make a quick call.”

  “Make your calls somewhere else,” the guard said in a less neutral tone.

  Not wanting to cause any trouble, Jon nodded and rolled up his window, then drove across the street and parked at Jeff’s Diner. He checked his watch, concluded that it wasn’t likely that Patti and Sigi would leave the hotel, and then went in to get something to eat.

  Jon was hungry for food, but he was equally hungry to find the answers he so desperately sought. And there was only one person who could stop that hunger and set him free.

  Like so many in life, Jon needed a wizard.

  The morning sun was nowhere to be seen—it had slunk off behind the clouds to be someplace less depressing. The large home at 1221 Ocean View Drive looked faded and washed out beneath the dreary sky. The house was two stories with a detached four-car garage and a fountain that shot water into the air in various patterns sitting in front.

  In the airy kitchen, a weak, moody light moped its way through the windows and flopped against the tables and floor. The dreary elements pouted and moaned, wanting the world to witness their misery.

  “What a gloomy morning,” Sigi said, giving the gray some of the attention it wanted.

  “It feels like Oregon usually does.” Ozzy shrugged as he stepped up to the table. It had been three weeks since the Spell Boat incident, and he was falling into a routine that included breakfast with the wizard’s daughter every morning.

  Sigi looked considerably more positive than the mood in the kitchen. Her long hair was pulled up on top of her head, forming a massive curly brown bouquet and giving her neck some room to breathe. Her dark skin created a silhouette in the dreary gray that had depth and interest. She was wearing a blue T-shirt Patti had bought her last week in Eugene with denim shorts. Her feet were bare, and her legs and arms were long and moved gracefully as she picked up a bag from the table and began to open it.

  “Is your mom here?” Ozzy asked.

  “She left early. Which means we’re alone.” Sigi’s brown eyes smiled. “Should we skip school and do something exciting?”

  “If you can get Sheriff Wills’s permission.”

  Thanks to what they had recently lived through, there was always a police officer to escort them anywhere outside the house they wanted to go. The cops were there when they went to school, when they went to the beach, when they went to where the Cloaked House had once stood. They were even watched when they walked to the nearby convenience store. While they understood why they needed watching, to Sigi and Ozzy it was beginning to feel a lot like being held captive.

  Sigi took the last bagel out of the bag and crumpled the empty container. “We’re out of bagels. And I’d share, but I can’t see a way to divide the two halves equally. You could always use your ability to make me give this up, couldn’t you?”

  Ozzy shook his head; his long dark hair brushed against his face and ears. He looked down at his left-hand pointer finger—the single digit was completely covered with a deep purple marking. Ozzy had thought it was a birthmark, but thanks to Rin, he
had recently discovered that the purple finger came from his parents experimenting on him. The experiment had left him with a single marked finger—and the amazing ability to make some living things do what he instructed.

  “You should try it on me,” Sigi said excitedly. “We can find out if you’re able to control the mind of someone who’s clearly smarter than you.”

  Ozzy shook his head.

  Sigi sat down to selfishly eat both halves of her bagel.

  Ozzy poured himself a bowl of chocolate puffed cereal and milk and sat down across from her. After a few bites, Ozzy swallowed and asked Sigi the question he asked every morning. It was always asked half in jest and whole in desire.

  “So—where’s your dad?”

  Sigi finished some chewing of her own food and shrugged. “I don’t know. Where’s your bird?”

  The mere mention of Clark made them both half-happy and half-sad.

  “I’ve waited my whole life for my dad to show up when he should have,” Sigi continued. “He never did. Now I feel like we’re in some dumb unending limbo, just waiting for them to return. What about Ray? Or Jon? Why is nothing happening? Are we just going to be babysat by Sheriff Wills and his officers until we die? Because waiting around for something horrible to go down feels like death. We don’t even know if my dad’s alive. He jumped into a dark ocean and disappeared.”

  “He’s alive,” Ozzy promised her. “Remember what he’s capable of?”

  “Sure,” Sigi said, “but in my lifetime, he’s also been less than capable—for example, he’s not been around the last ten years. Also, he hasn’t remembered most of my birthdays or been a part of anything normal.”

  “He wouldn’t have left us on that boat if he didn’t know what he was doing.”

  “I think that’s one of the reasons he would leave us,” Sigi argued. “People who know what they’re doing don’t abandon ships that could save them. And what about Clark? There’s no way he would stay away if he was okay. That bird is connected to you. He’s out there—and we can’t go looking because we have no idea where they are. I mean, what if they’re actually in Quarfelt?”

  “I don’t know. Is Quarfelt real?”

  “Right,” Sigi said, “because sometimes my dad’s hard to believe.”

  “That’s true. I mean, what about my parents? He said they’re alive but I’m not sure I should believe him.”

  The wizard’s daughter stood up from the table, leaving half her bagel uneaten. “Come on. We’re going to be late.”

  Ozzy shoved the last half of the bagel in his mouth and then cleared the dishes.

  After putting on their shoes and grabbing their backpacks, they met out on the driveway in front of Patti’s house. Parked next to the fountain was the small white car that Ozzy and Sigi knew all too well, the same vehicle that had taken them on to a train, to Albuquerque and back, and into other insanely dangerous situations. It was small and had started its life as a hybrid, but Rin had changed out the motor a while back to give it something with a little more get up and go.

  Before climbing into the car, Ozzy glanced around at the surrounding forest. There were trees on all sides of the driveway that hid any nearby roads and other houses. He watched three birds fly off to the west and felt a pang of sadness.

  “I just don’t think Clark would give up,” Ozzy said. “Or Rin, or Jon—or Ray.”

  “Maybe it’s best not to think.”

  Sigi drove the car while Ozzy sat in the passenger seat. At the bottom of the driveway, they passed a parked patrol car waiting to follow them and gave the cop a brief wave.

  They were escorted the entire way to school.

  When they reached Otter Rock High, the cop parked in front.

  Sigi parked in the student section and climbed out of the car complaining.

  “The whole school thinks you and I are nuts.” Sigi shook her head in disgust. “Do you know of anyone else who has a personal policeman following them?”

  “No, but I still don’t really know many people here.”

  “Well, they know you, and they think you’re nuts.” Sigi threw her backpack over her shoulder and looked at Ozzy. “No offense.”

  “Some taken,” Ozzy replied.

  The two of them split up and entered Otter Rock High School with a river of fellow students who were unhappily doing the same thing. The air inside the school was filled with noise and cologne and fluorescent light. One student was yelling at another student about a recent TV show. Two girls were laughing about someone’s hair. A teacher spilled her coffee and fought the urge to swear.

  Despite the scene, or what Ozzy had been through recently, he liked school. He found it remarkable that everyone gathered together to teach and learn things. He liked the magical aspects, like hot lunches and access to a library. He felt powerful raising his hand in class and having the teacher focus on him. He had grown up alone and isolated. Now he was surrounded by others who were also trying to figure things out.

  Ozzy made it to geometry class and into his seat just as the bell finished ringing. A large kid with dark circles under his eyes and chaotic blond hair sat down in the desk next to him.

  Before Mr. Waite, the teacher, could address the class, a speaker in the room snapped to life and the sound of someone who didn’t particularly enjoy their job spoke.

  “Mr. Waite, please send Ozzy Toffy to the office.”

  Everyone glanced at Ozzy, all of them wondering what he had done to be summoned. The whole school was aware of just how unusual he was. He had been strange and singled out since the first day he had made his way to school. They were also aware of some of the unbelievable things that had happened to him in the last few months and had heard rumors about even more unbelievable things.

  “What’d you do?” the big kid with dark circles asked.

  “I have no idea.”

  Getting up from his seat, Ozzy nodded toward the teacher.

  “Hurry back,” Mr. Waite told him. “You can’t learn if you’re not here.”

  His point may have been true, but Ozzy knew there were plenty of things he could learn outside of a classroom. Gathering his backpack, he walked out of the room and down the hall toward the front office. His tennis shoes squeaked on the tile floor as he moved, the noise echoing off the lockers and walls.

  In the office, two older women shuffled papers around and typed things into their computers. One had brown hair and was named Karen, and the other used to have brown hair but now it was gray. Her name was Glenda.

  “Hello, Ozzy,” Glenda the Gray said.

  “Hello,” he replied. “I was called down here. Is there a problem?”

  “No,” Glenda insisted, “at least I don’t think so. A box arrived for you.”

  The gray-haired woman stood up and walked to a counter behind her desk. Sitting on top of the counter was a brown cardboard box. Glenda picked it up and brought it over to Ozzy.

  “It’s not very heavy,” she reported. “You know, normally students don’t receive packages here. But you’ve always been a little . . . more special than most.”

  “Thanks,” Ozzy said sincerely, taking the box from her.

  He studied the package with curiosity. It was a normal looking cardboard box, a cube with blank sides and bottom. Written across the top in large loopy letters were the words:

  For Ozzy Toffy

  Ozzy popped open the top folds of the box and dug through green and yellow packing peanuts. He saw something red and gray and . . .

  Ozzy stopped tunneling and looked up at Glenda.

  “Oh,” he said excitedly, “it’s just some clothes that my friend is returning.”

  Glenda stared at him.

  “You see,” Ozzy continued, “I lent these clothes to him . . . or her. Friends can be female. I mean, I have some female friends. Roughly half the population is female. Ac
tually, I have one female friend. But I lent these to a male friend a couple of months ago and well, like I said, he’s returning them. Sorry. I don’t know why he shipped them here.”

  Both Glenda and Karen stared at the boy.

  “They weren’t mailed,” Glenda said, still looking confused. “They were dropped off by a courier.”

  Ozzy’s grey eyes went wide. “A courier?”

  “A delivery person,” Glenda said, thinking that Ozzy didn’t know what the word courier meant.

  “Right,” Ozzy said excitedly, knowing perfectly well what a courier was. “What delivery person dropped them off?”

  “I don’t know.” Glenda was acting like she was ready to be done with the conversation. “Just a man with a red cap and black shirt. He could have been friendlier.”

  “Was he tall?”

  “No.”

  “Did he have a beard?”

  “No. He was short and clean shaven.”

  “Thanks,” Ozzy said, picking up the package. “I should get back to class.”

  “Do you want to leave your box here?” Glenda asked. “You can pick it up after school.”

  “No.” Ozzy was insistent. “I mean . . . no, thank you.”

  Holding the box with both arms, Ozzy left the office and walked in the opposite direction of his class. His heart was beating at an alarming rate and his mind buzzed comfortably under the knowledge of what he had in his hands.

  Sigi’s classroom was on the other side of the school, and when Ozzy got to her door, he stopped and looked through the small window above the doorknob. He saw that her teacher, Mr. Lastly, was talking about something while most of the students were resting their heads on their desks. Ozzy looked through the glass and spotted Sigi. He waved and she spotted him.

  Sigi raised her hand and asked to use the bathroom.

  As soon as she was out in the hall, Ozzy held up the box.