They won’t let me go home, though. An agent from the International Bureau of Magical Matters is coming to interrogate me. The faster I cooperate, the faster I can leave.
“Unbelievable,” Samira mutters. “Some people are talking about how hot Takeshi is. I mean, he is hot, but come on, world. The guy just tried to steal a crystal heart. He’s all dressed up like a Dragon Knight now, and y’all are focused on his abs? I can’t.”
“Why would he even need the heart? It only grants wishes to the dragon’s rider.”
Samira puts down the phone, her gaze narrowed and alert. “Did you see those golden orbs Takeshi had? Not only were spells trapped inside them, but I think the orbs themselves were spells, too. Gold Wand magic in physical form, similar to Madame Waxbyrne’s wands. Nobody in the magical community can trap magic like that.” She grimaces as if she’s about to say something unpleasant. “I think Takeshi needed to bring the crystal heart to a Gold Wand working for the Sire. Maybe they’re strong enough to force the heart to perform magic.”
It does make sense, I guess, except for one thing.
“Why have Takeshi steal it? Why couldn’t the Gold Wand get it instead?”
“Because I think the wish is for Takeshi. I think he wants real proof of Hikaru’s killer.”
My eyebrows shoot up. Antonio Deluca, the Runner from Team Italy, remains the only murder suspect because he hates Takeshi. He’d also fled Edinburgh hours before Hikaru’s body had been found. Only Gold Wands like Antonio have the magical strength to execute a dragon, but while everyone believes Antonio’s guilty, no one can back it up with proof. The surveillance cameras at Hikaru’s habitat had been torn apart with magic. The guards outside of the habitat had been struck with an irreversible Memory-Erasing Charm. If Samira is right, Takeshi’s going after the one thing that will guarantee Antonio’s imprisonment.
“He’s only doing this for Hikaru,” I whisper.
She puts her hand on top of mine. “Regardless of what he’s after, Takeshi Endo is Dragon Knight trash. I’m so sorry, but he’s canceled.”
I should tell her she’s right. I’ve seen this different Takeshi. This boy who hurts dragons. But if he’s really searching for proof, he’s just lost on his path to justice.
What if the boy in that Tokyo interview is still there?
The ambulance doors jerk open.
Mom stands between Mr. and Mrs. Jones, who both are gasping in relief.
“Oh, my sweet baby Jesus …” Mrs. Jones rushes toward her elder daughter. She crushes Samira in a rib-crumbling hug. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Samira says, even though her eyes are bugging out.
I giggle. While Samira’s as tall as her father, she’s a younger version of her mother. They have curly brown hair they tie up in buns, their eyes are the same shade of soft amber, and they have even more impressive hips than mine. Samira’s a bit more slender than her mother, though.
Mr. Jones tips his New York Knicks hat at me. It clashes with his pressed button-down and khaki pants, but that’s how he rolls. “Good to see you in one piece, Lana Lightning! You’re an angel for what you did today. How are you feeling?”
“I’m not dead, so there’s that,” I say with a shrug.
“Oh, come here, you!” Mrs. Jones lunges at me, too. Her grip is strong enough to rearrange my spinal cord. “Thank the Lord you’re both all right. I was so worried!”
“We’re fine, Momma. Just a little tired,” says Samira. She’s still hiding her broken Copper wand behind her back. Looks like someone’s not ready to fess up.
When Mrs. Jones lets me go, I gently pat Samira’s shoulder. “You should go home. Get some rest. I’ll call you after I wrap up with the bureau. They might not be ready for a while.”
“Uh-uh,” says Mr. Jones. “Leslie’s with an agent right now.”
He points to a thin white shield, rippling like ocean water. It blocks me from the onslaught of flashing bulbs. Mom walks through the shield, nervously running her hands down the front of her rumpled skirt. She lets out a quick yawn as she approaches.
“Todd has a concussion from the fall and a really sore neck, but he’s stable.” She looks directly at me, her expression somber. “Honey, your father is still unreachable, but I don’t want you to panic. The bureau hasn’t gotten word of anything suspicious at the São Paulo sanctuary.”
I’m clutching my chest like it’s about to explode. Your father is still unreachable. He could’ve misplaced his phone, but he’s the most organized and put-together person I’ve ever met. I’ve already lost my dream. I can’t lose my father, too.
“Good afternoon.” A tall, blonde white woman walks up behind Mom. She’s wearing an emerald coat and short cream pumps. Her silver badge has the acronym IBOMM engraved on it. The words AGENT HOROWITZ appear beneath the acronym, along with the tiniest Silver wand.
My jaw drops. “You’re the Agent Horowitz. Living, breathing legend!”
Samira and I read an article about her in The Weekly Scorcher, a newspaper that focuses on dragon-related updates. She remains the only bureau agent who publicly identifies as a trans woman. She’s also the bureau agent with the highest number of Dragon Knight arrests (seventeen total). One of her most famous captures was performed while dangling off a cliff in Cork, Ireland, when she’d snatched up six Dragon Knights at the same freaking time.
“Not sure about the legend part.” She gives me a crooked smile. “I’m sorry to bother you on what I presume has been a difficult day, but I have a few things to discuss with you, Ms. Torres. I swear this won’t take long.”
“Of course,” I say.
“Very well.” Agent Horowitz pulls out her Silver wand, which is bedazzled with amber stones in the shape of triangles. “Ms. Torres. Ms. Wells. We should get going.”
I rise from the stretcher with Mom’s help, even though I can rise on my own. Mr. Jones holds out his hands for me, too. I take them and jump down to the grass.
“Call me as soon as you get home, you hear?” Samira says.
“Loud and clear.” I give her a big hug and whisper, “And guess what I still owe you?”
“What?” she whispers back.
“Your fifth and last wand.”
“Pfft. Worry about taking lots of pictures of the bureau. That place must be ginormous.”
After I bid Samira’s parents farewell, Agent Horowitz raises her wand overhead.
SWISH!
White light pours all over me. It vanishes a split second later.
I’m standing in the middle of a long, chandelier-lit hallway with walls of the brightest gold. I sniff twice. There’s vanilla, chocolate, strawberry, and a little bit of red apple in the air. There’s no furniture, no paintings or sculptures. There is, however, a massive gold door at the end of the hallway. It’s shaped like a full moon, with a doorknob as big as a soccer ball.
“Come along.” Agent Horowitz pockets her wand. “Our hosts are waiting.”
I gape at her. “Wait, what? I thought we were going to the bureau.”
“Not today,” says Agent Horowitz as she struts down the long hallway.