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

“Hold on, Monty,” Iain said. “The light’s bouncing off that table and creating a glare. We’ll need to change the angle.”

Several grips and a technician came out to reposition the table—apparently it was quite heavy—while John turned over Kevin’s warning in his mind. He would need to win this challenge. Not for the week at the MGM Grand or the phenomenal opportunity of appearing in the show, but to stay in Magic Mansion for one more challenge. Because if that bully Kevin stayed focused on John…maybe he’d leave Ricardo alone.

If John won, it meant Muriel would not, and John wasn’t thrilled about that…though since it was a competition, one of them would need to lose. He turned to her, and she to him (eyebrows raised) and he offered his hand, saying, “Good luck, Muriel.”

She smiled and reached toward him…and when her hand touched John’s, her True magic jolted him like an electrical current. She pulled him down to her level, and his body obeyed like it had no will of his own. He bent his head so she could whisper in his ear, and she leaned into him and said, “Don’t let that dumb gym rat intimidate you, John. Loosen up and enjoy the ride. You didn’t even notice that cute twink’s ass in those stretch pants—and him all hot for you. I’m going to be seriously disappointed if you don’t hit that.”

As if a breaker had flipped, the Truth, suddenly, was gone. It drained from Muriel’s hand like water. “Casey?” John whispered.

Muriel blinked. “Is that what I said? Casey? Heh, whatever that’s supposed to mean. Anyway, good luck.” She pumped his hand up and down a couple of times, then released it. “You’ve got to take me with a grain of salt, Professor. I dropped a lot of acid in my day.”

John was seated at the table, Muriel across from him. He could see through the hole, which was barely bigger than the diameter of his arm. Red, green, black, gold, blue. No white. Digging around in the silks without pulling any out was a viable strategy if he didn’t want to risk getting points off. But, as with life, caution would have its own risks. If John acted by choosing not to act, Muriel could very well pull a white silk and win everything: the trip, the show, and the entire Four Props Challenge for the Gold.

John shifted his gaze and saw the Gold Team watching him over Muriel’s shoulder. Ricardo’s eyes widened when John met his gaze. Nothing ventured, nothing gained—and perhaps he had Casey’s blessing to actually pursue something beyond a furtive tryst with Ricardo, or perhaps Muriel had just been reading John with her talent and channeling it into the sort of message John thought he would want to hear.

Whichever the case, with the alluring weight of Ricardo’s gaze on him, John resolved that it was, indeed, time to really try.

“Rolling,” Iain said. A buzzer sounded, and Monty called out, “Go!”

John pulled a silk. Red. And blue…damn.

Monty announced, “Red Team starts with two—and remember, in this challenge, the magician with the fewest points will be the winner.”

Across the table, Muriel teased a single green silk out of the hole. Then a black.

John pushed his hand deep into the silks to try again.

“To your right, Professor,” Faye yelled.

The focus of the Gold Team shifted, as the other three members kenned to the fact that they could be helping Muriel. John reached in and to the right. “Farther,” Faye yelled, and Jia called out, “A little more. A little more.”

Bev screamed, “Right there, Muriel. Right there!” and Muriel pulled. White flashed, but green also.

Monty said, “It’s not alone, so it doesn’t count. Two points to Gold Team.” Muriel was undaunted. She flung it to the side and thrust her hand back into the hole while the mingled silks floated gently toward the floor.

“There! There!” Faye called, and John pinched the scarf that seemed to be closer to Faye’s line of vision and teased it carefully from the mass. It cleared the hole by itself…but it was yellow.

“Not that one,” she called.

Muriel laughed, and drew a pink scarf. “There’s a trick to pulling just one, huh?” she said to John. “But you get the feel for it after a few.” She pulled out another green.

“Indeed.” John reached back in, and tried to find the spot Faye had been guiding him to before. “Right there,” Jia called again. John pulled…and saw the scarf was blue before it even cleared the hole. He pulled hard, and two more came out with it.

“That’s five for the Red Team,” Monty said.

Half a minute was gone. John reached and pulled. Muriel did the same. They each found a rhythm, a speed, that allowed the silks to slide out without bringing along one of the others more often than not, though John racked up another five points, and in a particularly clingy draw, Muriel four.

Two minutes had passed, and it became obvious that if he didn’t find a white silk, Muriel would claim this challenge. And although John was loathe to do it for fear of drawing more spite toward himself, he focused on his True power, sent it surging through his fingertips…and then zeroed in on the idea of “white.”

It was so much easier to convey “white” than “the longest wand” that the response from the silks was practically immediate. Yes came from a place somewhere in the middle. Yes, from deep down in the pile. Yes, from the opposite corner.

Yes, from the spot toward which Faye and Jia had been trying to coax John.

John walked his fingers through the silks carefully. White?

No. No. No. No. Yes.

He pinched it between his fingers. White—are you sure?

Yes.

The timer was ticking. Only fifteen seconds to go. If John pulled more than one silk, he’d never have time to find another white, and Muriel would win the stunt. Slow. Steady. But were there any other colors stuck to it? Hard to say. And just as