Chapter 13

THURSDAY, MAY 14

2:00 P.M.

THE HIGH LINE, NEW YORK CITY

I whirled around to see what Fluffball was warning us about. A figure was striding toward us through the narrow park. The sight of him made my blood run cold.

He was tall and broad across the shoulders, like somebody who had dedicated his life to lifting weights. His face was completely hidden behind a dark welding mask with the protective shield down, but I could see that his dark hair was trimmed short.

He was wearing heavy black boots that laced up halfway to his knees, and his belt buckle was big and shiny. The man’s wide chest was draped in a reflective yellow vest—the kind I’d seen crossing guards wear when helping people walk across busy streets.

His hands were covered with thick leather gloves, and he gripped two ordinary-looking items: a single wooden drumstick in his right, and a trailing red-white-and-blue jump rope in his left.

I was willing to guess that this was Wreckage. And I didn’t think he was here to play jump rope with us.

“Run!” I shouted, taking off down the High Line. Avery was at my side in a second, carrying Fluffball in the fold of her elbow like a quarterback running a football downfield.

I risked a glance over my shoulder just in time to see Wreckage bring the drumstick down. The wooden tip struck the ground with a deafening boom. At the same moment, shockwaves of sound rippled out from the stick, catching Avery and me in the back and throwing us face-first into a flowerbed.

As I rose to my knees, I realized that we weren’t the only ones who had been knocked down. The blast from the drumstick had rippled out in all directions, sending a dozen innocent park-goers tumbling to the ground.

Screams and cries for help sounded all around, but Wreckage didn’t seem worried. He continued his determined stride toward us, his face unseen behind that welder’s mask.

“This guy’s loaded with boons,” said Fluffball, who had tumbled from Avery’s arms and was shaking a bit of soil off his white fur. “His mask is a detector, so he’s going to know exactly what we’ve got as soon as he sees it.” The bunny squinted one red eye at Avery. “I’m assuming you do have some useful boons inside that fancy top hat of yours?”

“Yes . . . ,” she said, picking up the hat from where it had fallen to the ground. “Maybe . . . I just grabbed a hat that was stocked and ready for a field mission. I don’t know exactly what we ended up with.”

“Oh, you guys are going to go far,” Fluffball said sarcastically. “I’ve never met a pair of innocent criminals more ill-prepared than—”

Mid-sentence, Avery snatched the bunny by the neck and stuffed him straight into the black top hat.

“Find something useful!” she ordered, withdrawing her hand and leaping to her feet at my side.

There was a cracking sound like an exploding firework and suddenly, I was yanked off my feet again. This time it was the jump rope, which had somehow grown almost ten times its length and lassoed around my ankle.

Wreckage had both feet planted as he reeled me in like a fish. The magical jump rope was shortening itself as he pulled on it, dragging me kicking and screaming toward him.

“Mason Mortimer Morrison,” he said, his voice gruff and cold. “You will come with me.”

This was bad. This was very bad. What was this freaky supervillain going to do once he had me?

Luckily, I didn’t have to find out.

Avery sprang forward with a battle cry, grabbing the jump rope with one hand. I saw that her other one was holding a credit card, which she wielded like a knife.

With very little resistance, the edge of the plastic card sliced through the jump rope. The sudden release of tension sent Wreckage stumbling a few steps backward, while the severed piece of rope around my ankle seemed to disintegrate into ash.

“You had a credit card?” I cried, staggering to my feet. “Why’d you make me buy Fluffball?”

“I hear you, Stinky Boy!” came the rabbit’s deep voice from Avery’s hat perched on her head. “And I ain’t nobody’s property.”

“I don’t think it actually works for buying stuff,” said Avery, holding up the credit card. “It’s a boon my dad gave me. It can cut through almost anything.”

“Your parents trust you with that?” I cried. “You’ve got a razor-blade credit card and I can’t even get a Batman throwing star?”

“Really? Again with the throwing star?” Avery said, exasperated. “My card isn’t dangerous. It only cuts when I hold it just right and slice with the edge.”

“Can it cut through him?” I asked, noticing Wreckage moving toward us again.

“Nope,” Fluffball’s voice answered. Avery’s hat tipped back, and the bunny’s head appeared above her forehead, peeking out. “That guy’s covered in boons. His yellow vest is an immunity boon. It’ll protect him from direct strikes from other boons. That’s why he’s not getting leveled by his own drumstick.”

As though in response to Fluffball’s comment, Wreckage crouched, striking his drumstick against the ground once more. Again, the shockwave leveled everyone within fifty feet, Avery and myself included. I grunted, gripping my scuffed elbow and trying to get up quickly.

“I was trying to tell you . . . ,” said Fluffball, who had tumbled out of the top hat as it fell from Avery’s head again. “You’ve got to jump when he hits the drumstick. The shockwave won’t knock you down unless you’re touching the ground.”

“That would have been helpful ten seconds ago,” I said, watching the bunny dive headfirst, disappearing into Avery’s hat as she snatched it up again.

There were sirens sounding on the streets below the elevated park, and I figured the police had been notified about the madman with the jump rope.

“We’ve got to get out of here before the police come,” Avery said.

“Why?” I asked. “We didn’t do anything wrong. Talking to bird painters isn’t against the law.”

“If we get picked up by the police, Magix will know exactly where to find us,” she explained. “We’ll be back in headquarters by dark, and you can say goodbye to your precious memories.”

Avery was right. Best not to get caught. But I was worried about her escape plan. She had run to the edge of the park, peering over the railing to the street far below.

“We have to jump,” she said.

“What?” I shrieked, pushing past some shrubs to join her. I almost tripped as I crossed the old metal train tracks that ran down the side of the park.

“No way!” I said, backing up the moment I reached her. It was at least thirty feet down to a street crammed with moving vehicles. “This is way higher than the roof of my house, and that was bad enough.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked, boosting herself up onto the railing. “I think we can land it. Maybe Fluffball will find a boon that’ll help.”

“Have you ever broken your femur?” I snapped.

“No,” she answered.

“Well, I have. And it’s not pleasant.” I grabbed her arm and pulled her back to solid ground. “The stairs we used to get up here aren’t far away. We can make it if we—”

“Mason Mortimer Morrison!” Wreckage called again, causing me to whirl around. Did he have to use my middle name? I mean, I knew he was talking to me. “Come with me now, and no one has to get hurt.”

“I already got hurt!” I yelled back, pointing at my scuffed elbow. Besides, I was pretty sure that was something only lying bad guys ever said.

“The Mastermind wants to speak with you,” called Wreckage. “You would be wise to come willingly.”

Mastermind?

“Not going to happen!” I shouted back. As I glanced toward our enemy, I saw him raise the drumstick.

“Jump!” I shouted to Avery.

We both leaped in the air as the drumstick hit the train track. The shockwave passed beneath us, and we landed on our feet. I liked to imagine that Wreckage’s face was totally surprised behind that black welding mask.

Suddenly, Avery’s top hat tilted back and Fluffball’s white paws stretched out, clutching a light bulb. “It electrifies anything it touches,” the rabbit’s deep voice hurriedly explained, giving us the knowledge we needed to use the boon’s true magic.

“But the vest . . . ,” I said.

“We can’t electrify him with the boon directly,” said Avery. “But that doesn’t mean he can’t be electrocuted by something else.”

I had no idea what she was talking about, but Avery seemed to have a plan. She drew in a sharp breath and snatched the light bulb from his paws.

“Give up!” Wreckage shouted. “There is nowhere you can run. Nowhere you can hide—”

Avery bent over, touching the fragile light bulb to the train track. Blue bolts of electricity streamed out of it, connecting to the metal rail and traveling the distance to where Wreckage stood with one foot on the track.

The electricity surged into the big man, his body jolting and spasming until he finally fell to the ground.

Avery pulled the light bulb away from the rail, and the blue bolts vanished as quickly as they had appeared.

We didn’t wait to see if Wreckage recovered. We didn’t wait to see if the police would arrest him. We ran, finally reaching the stairs and moving down to the New York City streets, leaving the High Line and the traitorous bird artist behind.