The Conjurers #1: Rise of the Shadow - Softcover

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Brian Anderson is the creator of the syndicated comic strip Dog Eat Doug, which enjoys an international fan base both online and off-line. He is an optioned screenwriter and the author of several children's books, including Nighty Night, Sleepy Sleeps; The Prince's New Pet; and Monster Chefs. Brian's uncle was a charter member of the Magic Castle and taught him his first card trick in second grade. He has been practicing magic ever since.

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Chapter 1

Alex 

 “Angel Xavier is a fraud,” Alex Maskelyne told his older sister, Emma. He barely ducked the pillow she flung at his head. “There’s no way the guy is a real magician. He’s not even a good stage magician.”

Emma seemed about to reach for another pillow but turned back to the TV set instead. Ignoring her brother, she leaned closer to the screen, careful not to disturb the small white rabbit sleeping on her lap. 

“Angel used a body double that time he walked through the Great Wall of China,” Alex insisted, as though Emma were arguing with him. “And he made the Eiffel Tower vanish by rotating the room where the audience was sitting. Clever camera angles helped, of course. Then when he--” 

Emma’s hand shot out. The second pillow landed squarely in Alex’s face.

“Shut it before Uncle Mordo hears you,” Emma ordered him, keeping her own voice low. “I’m trying to watch.” 

Their uncle forbade television. Since he was their guardian, teacher, and supreme tyrant all in one (at least that was what Alex liked to call him), there was no way to argue or cajole him into buying a TV once he’d decided not to. 

So Alex had built the set they were watching from bits and pieces he’d found in the trash or tucked away in the attic of their uncle’s Victorian mansion. 

Alex hadn’t dared hide the TV in his bedroom or in Emma’s. Uncle Mordo would have been sure to find it. But this room, tucked away on the fourth floor of the west wing, was likely safe. It was a small, bare space with a slanted ceiling and a single window, probably a servant’s bedroom once upon a time. Uncle Mordo would never come up here. 

On the TV screen, Angel Xavier stood with one foot on either side of a set of railroad tracks. His wrists and ankles had been shackled to posts. He yanked at the chains with all his might, but they held firm. 

Suddenly a woman’s angular face filled the screen. “Welcome back to Faster than a Speeding Bullet! We’re offering live coverage of Angel Xavier’s greatest escape attempt.” She held a microphone with one gloved hand, gesturing toward the tracks behind her with the other. “Hear that? That is the whistle of the train merely seconds away. Angel Xavier has yet to free himself from any of his restraints.” 

The screen flashed, filling with static. 

“Hey! What happened?” Emma jolted upright, waking the rabbit napping on her lap. It jumped from her arms. “Sorry, Pimawa. Alex, you said you fixed it! I’m going to miss Angel’s escape!” 

“Relax.” Her brother slipped out of his chair. He went behind the television and adjusted the cluster of wires and rods sprouting from its case. “I did fix it and . . .” He twisted a wire around a copper tube. The screen flashed back to life. “There. I’ve fixed it again.” 

“What’s that?” The reporter’s voice crackled through the duct tape that held the speakers together. “We’re getting word that there appears to be a problem. Of course, it’s all part of the drama, folks.” She managed a nervous smile. “Over there you can see the emergency crews standing by. Um, again, I’m sure this is all part of the show. . . .” 

The camera zoomed in on Angel’s horror-stricken face. Veins in his forehead bulged from the effort to free himself. The camera pulled back as the train raced down the track, twenty tons of steel closing in on the magician. 

“Oh no! No! No! Can the train stop in time?” the reporter gasped. 

The train locked its brakes. Sparks erupted from underneath its metal belly. 

Angel Xavier screamed. Emma nearly did too. 

Then a strange blue light engulfed the magician. A second later, the screeching train barreled over the spot where he’d stood. The emergency crews rushed onto the tracks as the light faded, but Angel Xavier was gone. 

The camera panned the anxious crowd. Everyone was watching and waiting for the magician to make his reappearance. They were still waiting when the screen fizzled and went black. 

“Not again!” Emma sprang out of her chair. “I’ll miss the best part!” 

“The best part? Emma, it’s all a stunt, remember?” Alex stood, stretched, and headed for the door. 

Emma blocked his path. “Our deal is off. I didn’t get to see the end.” 

“C’mon, Em.” Alex groaned. “You don’t have to see the end to know it’s only a trick. They pumped that blue fog out of hidden pipes and he dropped into a secret dugout next to the tracks. They’ll let the audience freak out for a bit; then Angel Xavier will pop up behind the crowd.” 

“You are so boring.” Emma rolled her eyes. “Can’t you enjoy anything without picking it apart?” 

Alex looked genuinely confused. “What’s the fun in that?” 

“I’m still not doing your chores.” 

“No way, Em, we agreed. You got to watch your show, so now you get to do the laundry for a week. A deal’s a deal.” 

“I didn’t get to watch all my show. Keep your voice down. Uncle Mordo will hear you,” said Emma. 

“Keep your voice down.” 

“Or maybe we should get caught,” said Emma. “That’ll teach you to break a deal.” 

“I’m not the one who broke the--” Alex’s voice choked off as a large shadow filled the doorway behind him. Cringing, he turned to face the stern eyes of the supreme tyrant--Uncle Mordo. 

“One week’s banishment from the library for you, Master Maskelyne, except for classes,” said Uncle Mordo. He clasped his hands behind his back. His black-and-gold kimono swung around his ankles. “As for you, Miss Maskelyne, you shall polish the entire Victrola collection. To your rooms! Both of you.” 

It was a trek from the fourth floor of the west wing to their rooms on the third floor of the east wing. 

“This is all your fault,” Alex grumbled, stomping down the iron spiral stair-case. 

“You were perfectly happy about it when you thought it would get you out of doing the laundry,” Emma snapped back. “Did Uncle Mordo seem kind of . . . weird to you?” 

“Dictators are always weird,” said Alex. “No library for a week! No fair!” 

They had reached the bottom of the landing and were headed along the hallway toward their rooms. 

“He seemed distracted,” said Emma thoughtfully. “Honestly, I thought he’d be a lot madder.” 

“Well, you enjoy your lucky break while wiping down hundred-year-old record players,” said Alex. “I’ve had enough of Uncle Mordo and all his rules.” 

“This again?” said Emma. “We are not running away.” 

“Of course we’re not.” Alex grinned. “We’re escaping.” 

Emma pulled ahead, her mouth shut tight. 

“It’s really simple,” Alex huffed behind her. “I have it mapped out. The security system is a joke. We can be over the wall in two minutes thirty-nine seconds. I’ve been training for weeks, pretending I’m...