Magic Mansion by Jordan Price (best fiction books to read .txt) 📕

“Magicians, tonight you’ll be competing for the right to pick your teammates. And the top winners will receive a special reward—so you’ll want to do your very best. Most people can hold their breath for two minutes or so, but certain types of extreme athletes have been known to go far longer without air.”

Marlene said, “Stroll around the fishtanks now.”

Monty strolled. “The world record for holding your breath without loading up on pure oxygen first is eight minutes, fifty-eight seconds. But in Magic Mansion, you can beat that record—because we’re adding a little twist.”

Marlene said, “Stand beside the tank stage right.”

Monty stopped beside a tank. “Should I point to it, or…?”

“Don’t point. Don’t gesture. This isn’t The Price Is Right. Do you even have that in Australia?”

“When I was a kid.”

“Well,” Marlene said, “don’t be a showcase model. Just hold your arms naturally and talk. And repeat the last line. Make the twist sound ominous.”

Ricardo felt a camera lingering on him as he swallowed hard. He’d always thought of a “twist” as an ironic dance on the beach, or a slice of lime in his cosmo. A “twist” in the context of a challenge sounded plenty ominous already, thank you very much, without any additional effort on Monty’s part.

Monty smiled for the camera, then repeated, “But in Magic Mansion, you can beat that record…because we’re adding a little twist.”

It definitely hadn’t needed any help sounding more ominous.

“For your first challenge, your head (and only your head) will be sealed in these tanks, and the timer will start once the oxygen is removed. On the console in front of you is a red stop-button that will open the box immediately—but that button will also stop the timer.”

Presuming the buttons even worked. They must work. Right? They had to. Off-camera, an EMT lounged on the edge of a fountain. He had a crowbar and a sledgehammer within easy reach. Ricardo trusted the sledgehammer even less than he trusted the button. But he supposed brain damage was brain damage, no matter how you managed to achieve it.

“You’ll receive one point for each second you hold your breath,” Monty said. The magicians, as a group, looked up at a scoreboard-style timer. “But if you really want to pump up your score, hit the yellow button on the console in front of you. Turbo-charge your challenge, and we’ll pump in some water.”

A technician flipped a switch, and the tank beside Monty filled with water in a huge whoosh.

No wonder they hadn’t gone with the full-body tank. It wouldn’t have filled quickly enough.

“If you choose to hold your breath underwater, we’ll multiply your score by a hundred and fifty percent. Every forty seconds is as good as a minute.”

Bev muttered, “Good thing I’m wearing the waterproof mascara.”

Ricardo didn’t suppose math wizards got much practice holding their breath.

Monty strolled over to the tank on the other end, which filled with a whoosh. “And if you’re looking for a real challenge, mega-charge it. Hit the green button and we’ll add a little something extra.”

“Add the fish,” Marlene said, and an assistant opened the tank lid while an animal wrangler dumped a dozen fish into the water. “Go ahead, Monty.”

“Do the challenge with a little company, and we’ll double your score.”

“Are those piranha?” Kevin Kazan whispered. “I think they’re piranha.”

“They are no such thing,” Bev said. “They’re a completely different shape.”

Ricardo suspected Kevin knew full well what piranha looked like. He’d just been trying to freak everyone else out to gain an edge. Nice try.

“They’re doctor fish,” Jia Lee said blandly, which sounded vaguely reassuring. Until she added, “They nibble.”

“These little fellas originally hail from Turkey, though you’ll find them in spa waters of many parts of the world, including Belgium, Hungary and Japan. They’re used to exfoliate calluses and eczema because they feed on human skin—but if you’re feeling brave, a minute or two with the fishes could make a difference in who you room with for the duration of your stay…at Magic Mansion.”

Marlene called. “Cut. Empty the tanks and dry ’em out. First up, Fabian Swan, Muriel Broom, Bev Austin and Professor Topaz. Everyone else, stand on that concrete pad and look anxious.”

As if Ricardo needed any help.

Chapter 10

PRETENSE OF FAIRNESS

An assistant draped a towel around John’s neck as he placed his head inside the plexiglass box. Maybe, if he focused on keeping his suit clean, he could manage to stop thinking about the way that lowering his head into the U-shaped slot on the tank felt like positioning himself in a guillotine. Claustrophobia, he could handle. Water was fine, too—he’d done plenty of surfing in his teens and twenties, claiming the ocean would never harm him due to his Chamorro blood. Even the fish seemed too small to inspire terror.

It wasn’t the challenge itself that was daunting. It was the act of being so profoundly exposed that worried him. Most magical apparatus had sides or curtains that shielded the magician from the public. But this clear tank left everything in plain view—and the cameras circling them like buzzards ensured that no moment of panic would remain undocumented.

A fitting first challenge, John supposed.

Marlene headed off to the production trailer to enable herself to see the challenge from several points of view at once on her video monitors. Iain lined up the magicians alternating male and female, so John had Muriel Broom and Bev Austin to either side. Before they were interred, Bev muttered some numbers, then told Muriel, “The multiplier’s going to be the key. We should all add water.”

Muriel’s reply had been, “What do I look like, a Cup o’ Noodles?”

And so John wasn’t surprised that when he felt the vacuum draw the air from the sealed box that enclosed his head, felt his eardrums flex, and heard the announcement, “Timer starts…now,” it was followed by a great whoosh as the Math Wizard immediately filled her tank with water. John craned his neck to glance to the other side. Muriel had closed her eyes. Her