Home > Arcade Catastrophe (The Candy Shop War #2)(56)

Arcade Catastrophe (The Candy Shop War #2)(56)
Author: Brandon Mull

Pigeon noticed John wince, a faint tightening around his eyes. “You’re still hurt.”

“I’m all right. Part of the job. I might have overdone that kick to the side a little. It happens.”

“You beat up Cleon pretty bad. He didn’t chase us. How could you still run?”

John almost smiled. “I’ve been doing this for a long time, Pigeon. I’ve built up a high pain tolerance. I’ve learned to keep going despite my injuries. I know how much I can take, and I try not to dish out more than I can handle. I also have a physical advantage—even though I have to suffer any harm I inflict, I heal much faster than a normal person.”

“You haven’t healed yet,” Pigeon noted, sitting down on a couch.

“Not yet,” John agreed. “It’ll pass.”

“Would you care for some sunflower seeds?” Mozag asked.

“I’m all right,” Pigeon said.

“Hummus?” Mozag tried. “Not the best, but edible. Or we could do popcorn. I have a microwave.”

“Maybe later,” Pigeon said. “How do you have all this food? Why doesn’t Jonas starve you out?”

“He tried,” John said. “He cut our power and water, didn’t bring us food. Mozag can’t work magic beyond this sanctum. But he can do a lot here. Mozag started shaking up the sanctum pretty hard. See the cracks in the walls? The magic didn’t travel beyond the sanctum, but the physical shockwaves did. It felt like an earthquake throughout the building. Jonas couldn’t have it interrupting business. So we struck a deal.”

Mozag chuckled. “We got power, water, and food—and the tremors ceased.”

“How did he catch you two in the first place?” Pigeon asked.

Mozag’s face fell. “Don’t remind me. It was a low point of my career.”

“Mine too,” John grumbled. “And it was my fault.”

“I don’t like to place blame,” Mozag said. “John is an excellent operative. But if you demand that I speak candidly, yes, he’s mostly to blame.” Mozag winked at Pigeon.

“What happened?” Pigeon wondered.

“Jonas learned that I was here investigating him,” John said. “He laid a trap. You remember Kyle Knowles?”

“Of course,” Pigeon said. “He was one of the kids who helped Mrs. White. He got changed into an old man. You guys cured him.”

“Kyle didn’t set me up deliberately,” John said. “He started visiting Arcadeland when it first opened. Jonas recognized that he had experienced some magical tampering. A trained eye could spot similar residual evidence on Nate. Jonas did some digging and suspected that Kyle had been connected to me and Mrs. White. He offered Kyle a job here—regular employment, no magic involved. Then he made a simulacrum of Kyle.”

“Jonas really is an outstanding Simulcrist,” Mozag inserted. “He can work some very nuanced enchantments.”

“Tell me about it,” John muttered. “He worked a subtle spell, using careful acupuncture on the simulacrum to put Kyle in a highly suggestible state. Sort of like hypnosis in the movies. He created a fictitious scenario that Kyle believed completely. Kyle unwittingly played right into his hands. He called me and asked for my help. He asked me to meet him in a vacant office not far from here. It was an ambush. They overwhelmed me, took my hat, and made a simulacrum of me.”

“Tell him the rest,” Mozag prompted.

“Jonas then did to me what he had done to Kyle,” John grumbled. “In one of my greatest failures since I started working as a magical investigator, I lured Mozag here, and they trapped him.”

“And they took my hat too!” Mozag complained, as if it were the biggest tragedy of all. “My Cubs hat! The one I magically reinforced to last indefinitely. They crafted a simulacrum of me. But before Jonas completed it, I freed John and turned this apartment into a sanctum. We’ve been here ever since.”

“What was it like?” Pigeon asked John. “Being hypnotized?”

“I can hardly recall,” John said. “It’s like a half-forgotten dream. But the circumstances they planted in my mind felt completely authentic. I believed that I had escaped Jonas and was facing a desperate emergency where Mozag had to personally intervene. Trusting my judgment, Mozag came exactly where Jonas wanted him.”

“And here we sit,” Mozag said. “In some ways I’m glad to be here. I make it a point of knowing the different ways magic could obliterate the world. An unscrupulous magician gaining control of Uweya is one of the bleakest scenarios. I just wish I were in a better position to intervene.”

“Nate, Summer, and Trevor are trying to help us,” Pigeon said. “I’m glad you rescued me, John, but I’m worried that now Jonas will know for sure that we’re all working against him.”

“Will that be a problem?” John asked Mozag.

“Jonas does his homework,” Mozag said. “He already knew Pigeon and the others had been involved with me, Sebastian, and John. He’s using the four kids in spite of that knowledge. Who else is on our side, Pigeon?”

“Mr. Stott and Lindy are on the case as well, along with the Battiato brothers.”

“Victor and Ziggy,” Mozag said with a grin. “Not my most subtle operatives, but they can be quite effective.”

“Do they know you’re here?” John asked.

“I’m not sure,” Pigeon said, pulling out his button. “They gave me this.”

Mozag took it from him and held it up, examining it closely. “A very talented magician made this tracking beacon. Me. My sanctum is completely and unavoidably blocking the signal. The wards Jonas put in place would probably interfere with it as well. But I expect we could find a way to boost the transmission.” Mozag closed his hand around the button. “Well done hanging on to this, Pigeon. It gives us hope.”

“I’m glad,” Pigeon said.

“Are you positive you don’t want popcorn?” Mozag asked. “I have some real butter in the fridge.”

Now that he was settling down, Pigeon already felt hungrier than he had before. “Sure, why not?”

Chapter Seventeen

Lighthouse

Hovering in an upper corner of the room, Nate reflected that the training facility seemed much less busy when occupied by only two clubs. He kept catching the other Jets glancing nervously at the Tanks. It was one thing to watch the rival club sling around heavy weights and abuse punching bags, and another to see them perform the same workouts in fast-forward. The Jets knew they were in trouble. How were they supposed to match up against opponents who were both drastically stronger and considerably faster?

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