Order of the Majestic Read online

  “What do we do?”

  “I’ve already told you. If you can’t follow simple instructions, you’re not worth saving.”

  Around and around the old man went, using the crate like a surfboard, and sinking lower with each revolution. Even as he descended into the unnatural depths of the water creature’s mouth, the determined look on his face never faltered. His hands popped out below the waistline of the straitjacket. He flashed his palms twice. The first time he did it they were empty. The second time, a key appeared in his left hand. Armed with that, he attacked the huge padlock that held his chains in place. It popped open with a loud click. The heavy chains splashed into the water.

  Joey’s hands were slipping, as was his grip on reality. Between the shadow creatures outside and the water monster inside, he could only hope he was losing his mind. The alternative meant all of this was really happening and he was in actual danger. Joey’s heart galloped in his chest as the relentless current tugged at him. “I can’t hold on!”

  “I strongly suggest you do.”

  The man pulled off the straitjacket and cast it aside. Beneath it, he wore a rumpled tuxedo jacket. He shook out his hands and passed one over the other, producing a red silk handkerchief. Joey lost his hold on the rope and went flying back, carried off by the raging force of the whirlpool. He flailed in the water, certain he was doomed as the vortex whipped him around. Joey sailed into the old man just as he dipped the corner of his handkerchief into the water. They spun violently in the pit of the whirlpool, and Joey felt a powerful whoosh as the water flew away and vanished into thin air. They dropped to the floor with a whump. Every piece of backstage equipment came crashing down with them.

  “Ow,” Joey grunted. He propped himself up onto his knees and pushed his hair out of his face, looking around in wonder. The floor was back where it belonged, and it was dry. Not even a puddle remained. “What did you do?”

  The old man gave Joey an irritated look, hoisted himself off the floor, and took something down off a shelf that was still standing upright. It was a small ornate bottle crafted from brilliant blue glass. Had Joey seen it in a department store, he would have thought it held perfume. He watched as the old man very carefully wrung out the handkerchief, depositing the water creature inside the bottle like a genie in a lamp. The tiny square of silk had absorbed every drop of Aqua de Vida in the shop. The old man closed the bottle up tight, made a loose fist with his left hand, and tucked the handkerchief into his fingers. He blew into his palm, and voilà! His hand was empty.

  Joey looked around. A scattered mess of boxes and props covered the floor. The old man picked up a chair from the makeup table that had fallen on its side in the flood. He collapsed into the seat and let out a weary sigh. Then he set his sights on Joey. “Well?” he asked. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

  3 Redondo the Magnificent

  Joey shuffled over to the man, his remaining shoe splooshing against the floor. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “That was a disaster,” the man said, cutting him off. He ran a hand through his wet hair and glared at Joey, seeming to be simultaneously infuriated and baffled by his presence in the theater. “Who the devil are you? Where did you come from?”

  Joey didn’t know where to begin. His mind was reeling from the madness of the last few minutes. “I… I don’t really know.”

  “You don’t know?” the man snapped, incredulous.

  Joey pointed back the way he came in. “The door. It was open. I thought—”

  “What do you want here?”

  “Nothing! I want to go home.”

  “Then what did you come in here for?”

  “Because!” Joey blurted out, flustered. “I was out in the street. Those things out there…” He shivered at the thought of the living shadows that had chased him into the theater. “I had to get away. I needed help.”

  “Help? You attacked me.”

  “I thought you were going to drown.”

  “Thanks to you, I nearly did. Good God, what a mess.” He huffed and fluttered his fingers, dismissing Joey. “On your way, young man. Show’s over.”

  “What show? Which way? I don’t know where to go.”

  The man pointed impatiently to the gap in the stage curtain, back the way Joey had come. “Try the door. Evidently it’s open.”

  A jolt of fear rattled Joey’s spine. “I’m not going out there. Those things will eat me alive!”

  “Bah!” The old man waved Joey off. “They can’t hurt you. They’re not even really there. Not in the sense that you and I are here, anyway.” He paused suddenly. “Exactly how did you say you got here again?”

  “You’re asking me? I don’t even know where ‘here’ is! What is this place? Why is this happening to me?”

  “To you?” The old man broke into an unexpected coughing fit. He stood up, covering his mouth with a white handkerchief. “I’d like to know what force inflicted you upon me. One doesn’t simply walk into this place. Something or someone sent you. What was it? Think.”

  Joey felt like he might melt under the old man’s glare. “The magic set,” he said, grasping for an explanation. “The box.”

  The old man’s face contorted. “What?”

  “Redondo’s Mystery Box. It had to be.”

  The old man’s mouth fell open. He said nothing.

  “I’ll show you.” Joey darted back through the curtain to retrieve the magic set he had left out onstage. Thankfully, the Mystery Box was still there, and still dry. He came running back in holding it. His soggy sneaker squeaked and his mushy sock squished as he ran. “I had a key. It was in here. There was a string with a tag on it down at the bottom of this case. It said it was trick number 151, which was weird, because there’s only supposed to be 150 tricks in the set, but it was there, and the note at the end said, ‘Pull the string if you believe.’ So I grabbed the key, I pulled the string, and bam! Next thing I know—”

  “Let me see that,” the old man cut in, grabbing the case out of Joey’s hands. He knelt and examined the magic set with great interest. The expression on his face softened. He was captivated by the Mystery Box, as if he had some special connection to it. “How in the world?” the man whispered to himself. “Where did you get this?” he asked Joey, looking up with penetrating eyes.

  “I was taking a test. They had me do all these magic tricks, and—”

  “What do you mean you were taking a test? A magic test?”

  Joey shook his head. “A logic test. It was supposed to help me figure out what I should be when I grow up.”

  “Using magic tricks?” The old man looked skeptical. “Where are you from?”

  “Hoboken.”

  “New Jersey?” The old man chortled. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Is there a less magical place in the world?”

  The old man snickered at his own joke. The twinkle in his eye tipped Joey to something he should have realized sooner. “It’s your magic set.” Joey took out the instruction booklet and turned to the first page. “This picture… It’s you. Redondo the Magnificent.”

  The trace of a smile formed on the old man’s lips. “You’ve heard of me?”

  “No.” Joey shook his head. “Never.”

  “Never?” Just like that the smile was gone. “You could at least have the decency to lie.”

  “Never before today, I mean,” Joey said, trying to extricate his foot from his mouth. “Obviously, I read this book. And… and I recognized you from the posters outside.”

  Redondo crossed his arms, disappointed. “Not right away.”

  “You look a lot older than you do in those pictures,” Joey said in his defense. Even as the words left his mouth, he couldn’t believe he had said them out loud. “Sorry! I don’t mean—you look good! I’m just… wow. I’m really off my game right now. I’m not trying to insult you. I don’t know any magicians. Maybe Houdini. That’s about it.”

  The old man nodded, as if he should
have known better. “I knew Houdini too.” He inspected the booklet. He had a wistful, nostalgic look as he stared at the image of the young magician printed on the page.

  “Didn’t Houdini die, like… a hundred years ago?” Joey asked.

  “It was a long time ago,” Redondo admitted.

  “A long time since what?”

  Redondo rapped his knuckles on the top of the black trunk case. “A long time since someone brought in one of these.” He got up and carried the magic set over to the makeup prep station. He set it down in front of a Hollywood-style mirror with light bulbs running around the perimeter of the glass. “Am I to understand you did all the tricks in this magic set by yourself?”

  Joey nodded. “That’s right.”

  “No help from anyone? All in less than an hour?”

  “That was the test. How did you know that?”

  Redondo wagged a finger. “It’s part of a test. That is, it used to be.” He paused to stroke his mustache. “Have you ever studied magic before?”

  “I had a magic set I used to play with when I was younger. Does that count?”

  “It might. Were you any good?”

  Joey lifted his shoulders half an inch. “I was pretty good with the card tricks.”

  “I like card tricks too.” Redondo rubbed his chin. “What’s your name?”

  “Kopecky. Joey Kopecky.”

  “Well, young Kopecky. I wasn’t expecting you, but since you’re here… You might as well show me something.”

  At first Joey didn’t understand what was being asked of him. “You want to see me do magic?”

  Redondo held out his arms. “What else?”

  “Right now?”

  “If you’re not too busy.” Redondo motioned to the shattered aquarium. “Perhaps there’s something else you need to demolish first?”

  “No. Of course not. It’s just…” Joey trailed off, unsure of what to say or do. “Well, for one thing, the magic set’s empty.” He crossed the floor to Redondo, lifted the lid, and turned the case on its side. All the tricks that came with it were back on Mr. Gray’s desk.

  “That doesn’t matter,” Redondo said, undeterred. “If you’re telling the truth about how you got here, novelties such as the contents of this case have already served their purpose.”

  “What purpose? What am I supposed to use?”

  “Your imagination.” Redondo opened his arms, presenting the expansive backstage area and the random assortment of items present there. “This theater is a treasure trove of magical artifacts and relics. That’s why the shadows outside keep trying to force the door open, but they can’t get in. Not yet.” Redondo broke out coughing, covering his mouth with the handkerchief again. He tucked it away quickly, but not before Joey saw a spot of red on the otherwise clean, white cloth.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. Wonderful, in fact. Don’t I look fine?”

  Joey shook his head. “I’m so confused right now. I don’t know what this is.… I don’t know what you want me to do.…”

  Redondo turned the magic set right-side up and closed its lid with a bang. “The Mystery Box exists to spark imagination and to identify children who may be of use to the Order of the Majestic. Maybe that’s you. Maybe it isn’t. My hopes are not high, but as you are technically here at my invitation, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. Having said that, I want to see something real. No boxes with false bottoms, trick decks, or double-sided coins. Proper magic only.”

  Joey’s head was swimming. “Something real? The Order of the Majestic? What are you talking about?” Joey thought about all the unbelievable things he had seen so far. They were beyond comprehension and, without question, beyond his ability to reproduce. “I can’t do real magic.”

  Redondo frowned. “One doesn’t do anything to make magic work. One simply gets out of the way. Isn’t that how you ended up here?”

  “All I did was pull a string.” And my whole world unraveled. “I didn’t know all this was going to happen. I got here by accident.”

  Redondo turned up his palms. “If that’s all it was, it doesn’t matter. A trick you can’t repeat is not a trick. It’s a fluke. It’s meaningless. Not unlike this conversation, I suspect. I should have known better than to get my hopes up. Let’s be honest. There’s no way a boy growing up in New Jersey, of all places, found his way here to me. I trade in the impossible, not the ridiculous.”

  “What’s your problem with New Jersey?”

  “That’s your question?” Redondo rolled his eyes. “Fear not, young Kopecky. My quarrel is not with you or your fine Garden State, but rather with a society devoid of magical possibility. You’re just a product of that society. It’s not your fault. Not entirely. If you’d prefer to go home, I can arrange that.”

  Redondo went to snap his fingers.

  “Wait!” Joey called out, putting up his hands. “Can you please just wait? You’re throwing a lot at me here. I need to process. Give me a minute to think.”

  Redondo took out a pocket watch, checked the time, and regarded Joey impatiently. “Exactly one minute.”

  “Thank you,” Joey said in a keyed-up, testy voice. The situation was wearing on him. It was overwhelming… the definition of impossible, but that didn’t change the fact that it was happening. He had to accept it. Magic is real. Okay, that’s new information. There wasn’t any point in denying it. What other explanation was there? Did he think this was some kind of hallucination? That he was actually wandering the halls of the NATL building in a delusional state, imagining he had been transported to an old, run-down theater? Joey dismissed that idea out of hand. He had been stressed out about the PMAP test and Exemplar Academy, but not that stressed. Anyway, he could handle stress. That was one of the reasons he was such a good test taker. That was how he got here. This wasn’t the test that Joey had expected to take, but he realized it might be the most important test of his life. How many times had he dreamed about an opportunity like this? This moment existed in every book or movie he’d ever escaped into. He had to try. Redondo wanted to see some real magic. The question was, could Joey pull off one more trick?

  Redondo snapped shut the lid of his pocket watch. “Time’s up.” He tucked the watch away and offered his hand, which Joey noticed was splotched with burn scars. “Farewell, young Kopecky. It’s been”—Redondo searched his mind for the right words—“an unwelcome intrusion,” he said at last.

  “Wait!” Joey said. “I’ve got it.”

  “Got what?”

  “A trick. What else? I can do a trick. Something real.” Joey put on a big smile, trying to project confidence. There was one trick he remembered that could be done without any kind of ruse or hidden device. It wasn’t magic that made it work. It was math. Cold, hard, boring math. “I need a deck of cards.”

  Redondo looked dubious, but he went along. “I’m already regretting this.” He opened up one of the nearby equipment cases and rummaged through it until he found what Joey had asked for. “A woman in New Orleans told my fortune with these cards a long time ago.” He cleared off a space next to the magic set and spread out an old deck of cards, presenting them faceup in an even line. An assortment of faded colors and strange images stared up at Joey.

  “What are they?” Joey asked. “Tarot cards?”

  “Not exactly. They’re something much older.”

  “I need regular cards.”

  Redondo was way ahead of him, lifting the last card at one end of the line by its corner. Turning it over, he flipped the entire deck in one fluid motion. The cards rose and fell like a wave. On the other side, the cards displayed standard numbers and suits. Joey gathered up the deck, noting as he did that the unfamiliar images had disappeared from the other side. The cards were now branded with the kind of designs normally found on the backs of playing cards. “All fifty-two cards here?” he asked.

  “It’s a standard deck. I’ve seen to that.”

  “Good.” Joey found and discarded the
jokers, then started shuffling. “My father taught me this one,” he said, stalling as he tried to remember all the steps of the trick.

  “Your father? Is he a magician?”

  “He’s an accountant.”

  Redondo made a face like he’d just drank spoiled milk. “My condolences.”

  Joey squared the deck and set it down on the table. Redondo cut the cards to keep him honest. That was fine. Redondo could mix up the deck as much as he wanted. It was a self-working card trick. Joey didn’t understand it, but as long as he was playing with a full deck and followed each step to the letter, some kind of algorithm took over, resulting in a specific arrangement of the cards every time. It was one of the first card tricks Joey had learned how to do, and it was by far the easiest to master. He didn’t know how it worked and he didn’t know why. It just did.

  “Get ready for some real magic,” Joey said, picking the cards back up. “First, we deal out half the deck, faceup.”

  “Why?”

  Joey paused before dealing the first card. “Because we do.” Joey dealt out twenty-six cards and quietly took note of the seventh card in the pile: the three of diamonds. He picked up the stack of cards and placed it back on the bottom of the deck, careful to keep everything in order.

  “Next we’re going to take three more cards from the top.” He dealt out a jack, a king, and a two. “We need to make each of these piles add up to ten.”

  “Make them add up how?”

  “By adding more cards to each pile. The jack and the king are already worth ten. The two here needs some help.” Joey peeled off eight cards and laid them down on top of the two he had just dealt.

  “Why did you do that?”

  “It’s just the way the trick works.”

  “Well, as long as you’ve got a good reason. Your delivery is flawless, by the way. The way you extinguish doubt and parry each objection? Masterful.”