“We owe John,” Nate said. “Without him, we would never have survived Mrs. White.” He tried not to let his eyes stray to Lindy. She had heard them discuss Mrs. White before. She knew that Mrs. White had owned this store. But Lindy had no idea that she used to be Mrs. White. In her mind, she was simply Lindy Stott, an adopted orphan with no clear memories of her life before Mr. Stott took her in.
“He put everything right for us after all the craziness,” Summer said. “He and Mozag.”
“John would not want you kids involved,” Mr. Stott asserted.
“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t need our help,” Nate countered.
“Or that he wouldn’t be grateful,” Trevor added.
Mr. Stott sighed. “Before he disappeared, John warned me that something big was going on locally.”
“You never told us,” Pigeon accused.
“Of course not,” Mr. Stott said. “Any such information would only have tickled your curiosity.”
“What is it?” Summer asked.
“He never specified,” Mr. Stott replied. “He was investigating. He just wanted me to stay alert and to keep you kids away from Walnut Hills.”
“How were you supposed to do that?” Trevor asked. “Walnut Hills is the next town over. We live right next door.”
“If you haven’t noticed how I’ve kept you away,” Mr. Stott said, “then I’m doing my job correctly. I’ve done my best to suggest excursions here in Colson, or to the west of town, and to discourage any activities that might take you east into Walnut Hills.”
“My mom shops at the Walnut Hills Mall all the time,” Pigeon said. “Should I warn her?”
Mr. Stott shrugged. “I have no idea what the danger entails.”
“We should at least hear what the Battiatos have to say,” Nate proposed. “Partly in case we can help John, partly so we can learn more about the threat.”
“I agree,” Lindy said. “We can’t turn our backs on John. He’s like an uncle.”
Mr. Stott scratched his beard uncomfortably. “If the Battiatos contacted you, they are here to draw you in. These men are professionals. If you speak with them, you’ll end up wanting to work with them.”
“If it really means helping John, I already want to work with them,” Nate said. “Without him, I would be stuck as an old man.”
“The Battiatos are legitimate,” Mr. Stott said reluctantly. “But you could become embroiled in something very precarious. Think about it before you rush in. If somebody got the best of John, that person spells serious trouble.”
“If somebody got the best of John,” Pigeon remarked, “we’re probably already in major trouble. Lots of people in town almost had their lives ruined by Mrs. White last year, and they had no idea. I don’t want to get blindsided. I’d rather be able to put up a fight.”
“Where did they want to meet?” Mr. Stott wondered.
“Schwendiman’s All-You-Can-Eat,” Lindy said.
“That’s practically in Walnut Hills!” Mr. Stott protested.
“Lots of Colson is practically in Walnut Hills,” Summer pointed out. “That happens when you share a border.”
“I don’t like it,” Mr. Stott said. “Why can’t they come here?”
“Wouldn’t they worry about entering the lair of a magician?” Pigeon asked.
“They already set up the meeting,” Nate said. “We don’t have another way to contact them. Besides, Schwendiman’s is usually crowded. It isn’t like they’re luring us away to some remote place.”
“I’m not worried about them harming you directly,” Mr. Stott said. “I’m worried about them getting you involved in a potentially hazardous situation.”
“We don’t even know what they want yet,” Lindy observed.
“I prefer it that way,” Mr. Stott said. “I try to be open-minded. I let you kids use magical candy more than many would consider prudent. But you don’t want to get involved with magical enforcers. The best of them have poor life expectancies.”
“We get that it could be risky,” Nate insisted. “We don’t want to do this for fun. We’re worried about John. And if something fishy is going on right beside us in Walnut Hills, we’d be smart to learn whatever information the Battiatos can share.”
Mr. Stott shrugged. “I expressed my concerns. I can’t stop you kids from going. I’m directly responsible only for Lindy.”
“Can I go?” Lindy pleaded.
“Not all of you need to hear their proposal,” Mr. Stott said. He took Lindy by the hand. “Knowing what I know, I would be a poor father if I let you consort with the Battiato brothers. If your friends insist on meeting with them, they can fill us in later.”
“That’s so unfair!” Lindy fumed. “I’m the one who spotted the tiny rosebud on Ziggy!”
“What?” Mr. Stott asked.
“It’s a way to tell them apart,” Pigeon said.
Mr. Stott looked at Nate. “Will you be going?”
“I just wanted to make sure they weren’t bad guys,” Nate said. “I get that something dangerous is probably going on, but if it might help John, I’ll be at that meeting.”
Mr. Stott gave a nod. “Keep your guard up. Make no promises or commitments. Don’t answer any questions they have no business asking.”
“We’ll be careful,” Summer promised.
Mr. Stott faced Lindy. “Your friends will tell you all about it.”
“What if I go anyway?” Lindy asked defiantly.
“Then you will reap the consequences,” Mr. Stott said. “Tomorrow I want you here with me until your friends come to share what they have learned.”
*****
Pigeon checked the hour as he approached his front door. It was later than the time he had told his Aunt Rhonda to expect him. Fortunately, his parents were away on an anniversary retreat, and Aunt Rhonda was not nearly as fussy as his mother.
Hurrying through the door, Pigeon raced up to his room. He wanted to get rid of his tattered clothes before his aunt saw him.
“Is that you, Paul?” Aunt Rhonda called.
“Yes!” he replied. “Just a second. I have to use the bathroom.”
He had worn old clothes, knowing they would probably get mangled. He hurriedly changed into a more presentable outfit, then pulled a shoe box out from under his bed. It contained a modest rock collection, along with his supply of Brain Feed. He scooped some pebbles of Brain Feed into his pocket, replaced the shoe box, and hustled downstairs.