The Carnival of Lost Souls : A Handcuff Kid Novel (32 page)

BOOK: The Carnival of Lost Souls : A Handcuff Kid Novel

5.95Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

ads

Jack held perfectly still and took slow, shallow breaths. He closed his eyes and shifted slightly in his seat. He never heard of anyone actually dying from eating too much, but he didn’t want to be the first. Ever since they arrived back at the professor’s house, Concheta spoiled the boys rotten, cooking all of their favorite foods.

“
¡Mi chico
!” Concheta patted his cheek. “Wake up. Ms. Mildred is here.”

Jack sat up, carefully placing Little Miss B. on the floor. Boxer and T-Ray were sprawled on the settee, watching a movie.

“Right this way, Ms. Crosby.” The professor escorted Mildred into the room. Jack leaped up to greet her, throwing his arms around her and squeezing. Mildred
brushed his hair back from his face and placed her hands on his shoulders.

“Let me get a look at you.” She examined him up and down and then glanced over at Boxer and T-Ray. “Those two the ones?”

“Yes. I found them.” Jack didn’t know what else to say.

“Where?” Mildred asked. Jack’s phone message to Mildred had been completely incoherent.

“Purgatory.” Jack shrugged. He might as well at least continue trying to tell the truth; when he told her on the phone what had happened, she accused him of making up a Halloween story to scare her.

“I know, baby, life is hell. Now tell Millie what you’ve been up to.”

He knew Mildred would never believe him. Who would? It was an unbelievable story. And as angry as Jack was at the professor for selling him to an evil magician in the Land of the Dead, it had been the adventure of a lifetime. For a brief moment he was his own hero. He got to be a real magician and a star. He faced down Death Wranglers and survived through impossible odds. “They were in a forest. Just lost I guess.”

“Come on, pack your friends’ stuff. We’ve got to go. I’ve been on the phone all morning with social services.” Mildred scanned the room with hawklike precision. Jack knew she was suspicious, but for now she saw no reason to take him away from the professor, mostly because she
didn’t believe the story about the Amazing Mussini—not one bit. At least Jack’s conscience was clean, and he got to stay in his first real room and with the best, if a little odd, family he had ever had.

Though it was hard to say good-bye, both T-Ray and Boxer were eager to get home and see their families. They made a pact to stay in touch and visit over the summer. And the professor promised to do all of the driving—said it was the least he could do. Mildred herded the boys out of the house and settled them into the car. Jack waited on the porch with the professor.

“I wanted to give you this.” Professor Hawthorne handed Jack his Houdini book.

“Where did you get it?” Jack took the book, secretly thrilled to get it back. He thought it had been lost forever.

“As I have previously mentioned, my boy, I have otherworldly connections.”

“Thanks.” Jack smiled. They hadn’t discussed Mussini much, as the professor still felt guilty, but Jack had an important question. “Professor, do you think we will ever see Mussini again?”

“I have tried not to think about it. But it is a very real possibility. Mussini is a man of revenge, and though I don’t want to scare you, he could find a way. You should beware, my boy.”

“I’ll be careful. I’ve always got Mildred. I would hate to see him try anything with her around.” Jack made
light of the subject, but Mussini’s final words of revenge stayed with him. Did Mussini have a plot for revenge? In the end, Jabber had helped Jack escape for the chance to one day be like Mussini and inherit the show. Jack could only hope that Mussini wouldn’t punish Jabber or Violet if he ever found out they helped with the escape plot. He wished that they all could somehow make peace with their lives and move on—take the Black River to its end—but it wasn’t up to him, and only they could decide for themselves. Runt was probably thrilled to have Skimmer as a new brother. In some ways he hated leaving them behind, but they had each other and made up their own family.

Mildred settled into the driver’s seat. Jack ran into the yard and waved one last good-bye to his friends. When he raised his arm, he felt the metal slide down his wrist, but this time it wasn’t a handcuff, but the professor’s gold watch, which he had given to Jack to wear to hide the tattoo. The last thing he needed was for Mildred to see it and start asking questions.

The shiny gold watch sparkled in the sunlight and was a constant reminder of his ordeal. It even reminded him a little of the devil’s golden handcuffs that Shepard had made. But mostly it reminded him, proudly, of the amazing and terrifying magician who had given him the tattoo in the first place, and whose grasp he had escaped. He slipped the watch back down and tried not
to think about the mark etched into his skin, linking him forever to the Land of the Dead.

The professor stood on the porch, somberly dressed all in black. The professor reminded Jack of the old priest who’d been his foster father and given him the Houdini book. He would never forget those men, the ghostlike dads that drifted in and out of his life. They weren’t ghosts at all, but real people, and he connected them all, even Mussini. Jack knew that they would remember him, too.

Jack wondered what he owed the world. As Jabber said, no debt went unpaid. He couldn’t add it up. He thought about his life, about the gift of being alive. He felt indebted to the universe, the sky, the stars, and to the invisible air. How would he ever pay it back?

All he could do was live his life. Hold on to it, every lousy card and every hard-learned lesson. He didn’t let the kids fool him, the ones dressed up in pointy hats or long black robes with wands and magic dust. Jack knew the secret that every magician knew, and that Houdini knew. And that was: Real magic was man-made. Everyone could do it.

Mildred started the old car, and as she pulled away, she scraped the tires against the curb like she always did. Jack laughed and waved. It felt strange to see his friends and Mildred drive away, but he knew that he would see them again. For once, Jack was staying put, and it felt good to finally be home.

I am grateful to many people for their help, guidance, and support in bringing this novel to life. One day while bemoaning the demise of a less-than-stellar manuscript, I had a flash of inspiration to write a book about Houdini. I quickly discovered that it is impossible to simultaneously research the life and magic of Houdini while feeling sorry for oneself or remaining complacent. Magic was hard work. But I didn’t want to write a novel about Houdini; I wanted to write a novel about a kid who cared about Houdini and was inspired by him the way that I was inspired by his tireless effort to fool the eye, to rise out of his circumstances, and to be great at something as fleeting as creating illusions. I thank Harry Houdini,
who showed me that, especially through life’s hardest moments, creating illusions is important.

I would like to thank my family, especially my nemesis—I mean, loving and caring sister—Jen, who never tires of listening to me talk about how the book is going. Also, I would like to thank Nadja and Bob Muchow for their unwavering support, and Steve for his endless supply of calm and assuredness. I have a great critique group, No vampires Invited, and I would like to thank Robin Galbraith, Elizabeth Buck, Farrar Williams, and Joan Silsby for their kindness and support. I must also thank Ted Malawer for finding a wonderful home for the manuscript.

I am grateful to everyone at Abrams, particularly Susan van Metre for her early support of the project. I am especially lucky to work with editor Maggie Lehrman. Her insightful edits pushed me to be a better writer and storyteller, and the novel benefited greatly from her effort. And lastly, I would like to thank Maria T. Middleton for the great book design and Brandon Dorman for the gorgeous artwork for the cover.