Ty pushed Charlie toward another door. He opened it, and then shoved the smaller boy into a large open space.

“Wow!” said Charlie. They were standing at the side of a room as big as their school’s gym.

Tall marble pillars held up a distant ceiling of gold-painted shapes. A blood-red carpet covered the wide floor. Palm trees grew in giant pots, and enormous chairs and couches lurked in shadowy corners.

“It’s just a hotel,” said Ty.

“It’s not just a hotel,” Charlie said. “It’s the Hocus Pocus Hotel. I’ve heard of this place.”

“First of all, that’s not its name,” Ty said, his face darkening. “Secondly, it’s where I live, okay? My mom’s the manager of the hotel and my dad’s the chef. He’s not a cook, he’s a chef, got it?”

Charlie raised his hands. “I got it.”

“We live over there, way back behind the counter.” Ty pointed to a wide marble counter, where two guests were checking in to the hotel.

The rest of the lobby was empty, although Charlie thought he saw a few shadows moving among the massive pieces of furniture.

Then he saw the painting.

The man in the painting wore a skinny black tuxedo and held a top hat in his left hand.

He looked young, with thick black hair, dark eyes, and a thin black mustache that ended in two spirals. Behind the man was a woman with golden hair, lying inside a box, being sawed in half.

The painting hung near the entrance of the hotel. It was the first thing visitors saw as they walked through the front doors. And Charlie couldn’t take his eyes off of it. There was something about it that he really liked. It seemed mysterious.

“Who’s that?” asked Charlie, stepping closer for a better look.

“That’s the guy who built this place,” said Ty. “He’s a magician. I mean, was a magician. He built this place, like, a hundred years ago. He made it for other magicians to live in once they retired. But now other people stay here, too, like when they’re on vacation or whatever.”

“Magicians, huh?” said Charlie. That explained the blue neon sign by the alley, with the top hat and the rabbit. “Why does it say Abracadabra under this guy’s portrait?”

“That’s his name. The name of the hotel, too,” said Ty. “The Abracadabra. Like I said.”

Charlie shoved his hands into his pockets. He felt the folded piece of notepaper, and remembered why he was standing there in the first place. “So, what do you want me to do?” he asked.

Ty frowned. He grabbed Charlie by his shirt and pulled him behind a pillar. They were hidden by palm branches and giant vases. Ty made a fist again. “Don’t tell anyone about this,” he ordered, “or this fist goes right through your face and out the other side.”

“Tell what?” asked Charlie. “About the Abracadabra guy?”

Ty shook his head in disgust. He reached around for the chain-wallet in his back pocket and opened it. He pulled out a folded piece of paper — a picture torn from a magazine — and held it up to Charlie’s nose. “See this?” Ty said.

“Uh, it’s a dirt bike,” said Charlie.

“Not just any dirt bike,” said Tyler. “It’s a Tezuki Slamhammer 750, Edition 6, in cherry-pop lightning red. And it’s mine. Almost. I got money saved up from working here at the hotel.”

Ty stood back and gazed at the picture. “I’m getting it as soon as school’s out.” He paused. “But not if you can’t fix this problem.”

“What problem?” said Charlie.

Ty carefully folded the paper and tucked it away. He stared hard at Charlie and said, “One of the magicians has disappeared.”