“I disagree,” the man said. “Magic is all around us. We just have to pay attention.”
“Yeah, okay,” Carter scoffed. “If you’re referring to the carnival, I can guarantee you it’s all fake. Just like the sideshow. Just like the games.” He knew he should leave—find some food, find a bed. But something in his gut kept his feet planted to the ground. It was a similar feeling to watching Uncle Sly disappear as the train pulled away—like this meeting was meant to be.
Have you ever felt like that? It’s as close to a magical feeling as some of us will ever get.
The man’s eyebrows rose. “How intriguing. Do tell.”
“See that game over there? With the metal milk bottles and the baseball?” Carter pointed. “My theory is that it’s a con. Secret wires must hold the bottles in place, so even if you get a direct hit, they don’t fall down.”
“I saw someone win just a moment ago,” the man noted.
“They have to do that every once in a while,” Carter explained. “If no one ever won, people would catch on. But if they let someone win every half hour or so, no one picks up on the fact that everyone else loses.”
“Aren’t you observant?” the man said, impressed. “I take it you’re not enjoying the carnival?”
“I didn’t really come here to enjoy things,” Carter said. He’d come here to vanish. “But then I saw your coin trick.” He looked more closely at the man’s fingers. “Are there two coins?”
“There are, actually. Color me impressed.” The man with curly white hair extended his hand. “My name is Mr. Vernon.”
When Carter shook it, the hand came loose and fell to the ground. Carter jumped back. It took him a full two seconds to realize the hand was made of lifelike plastic. Unable to stop himself, an uncontrollable laugh escaped. The laugh surprised Carter. He quickly corrected himself. “You got me. So what are you selling?”
“Selling?” Mr. Vernon asked, confused.
“No one does magic just for fun. Either you’re here to swindle people or you’re trying to sell something.”
“I assure you, I’m here to do neither. But that is a rather sad view of the world for someone your age,” Mr. Vernon said. “Might I ask, what happened to your youthful na?veté, Mister…”
“The name’s Carter. And I have no clue what you just said.”
“I was asking about innocence, young man. Most people start out with at least a dollop.”
“Let’s just say I’ve been around the block a few times. Sorry to bother you. I’ll let you get back to your work, whatever it is.…”
It hurt Carter’s heart to step away from this strange man in the top hat, but he knew he had to. A shriek erupted from down the midway as someone on one of the rides got a little too excited. The sound sent creepers up Carter’s spine. “I really gotta go.”
Mr. Vernon quickly added, “It was nice to meet you, Carter. Before you run off, may I ask, where are you visiting from?”
“How do you know I’m not from here?” Carter asked.
Mr. Vernon’s bright grin flickered briefly. “Aha. A worthy question. Well, in a small town like this, everyone knows everyone. You’d know that if you actually were from here.” He tossed up an apologetic shrug and the inside of his cape flashed satiny red. “Considering our mutual appreciation for magic, I’d like to think that if you did live here, we’d know each other.”
“When you say magic, you mean tricks,” Carter said. “Right?”
“I mean what I say, and I say what I mean.” Mr. Vernon smiled. “Is it safe to assume you have a few tricks up your own sleeves?”
“I do,” Carter said. He held his hands out flat, palms down. He turned them up to show his hands were empty. He turned them down, then up again. This time, Mr. Vernon’s pocket watch was in Carter’s palm.
“Bravo!” Mr. Vernon said. “You have fast hands.”
“That’s what I’ve been told.”
“Of course, so do I.” Mr. Vernon pushed his cape back to reveal Carter’s satchel. He handed it back to Carter.
A rush of anger flew over Carter as he felt at the satchel to make sure the wooden box was still in there. It was.
“How did you do that? It was around my neck. I didn’t feel a thing—” Carter shook his head. “So are you a thief?”
“I am not,” said Mr. Vernon. “Are you?”
“I never steal,” Carter growled.
“Then we are the same,” Mr. Vernon said. “I take it you’ve had a rough start at life.”
“That’s none of your business,” Carter said, scoffing.
“You are absolutely correct. I apologize,” Mr. Vernon said. He offered a small bow. When he straightened himself, his face was rather serious. “Carter, let me share a bit of advice. Despite the shine of this place”—the magician held up his hands to indicate the whole carnival—“there are some very dark elements at work here. If they knew of your talents, they would certainly try to take advantage of you, to make you think the way they do. I advise you not to give in. Instead? Trust your instincts. They will serve you well in ways you’ve yet to witness but, I assure you, you are closer than you think.”
Mr. Vernon paused, then presented a warm smile. “But the decisions you make are yours. Don’t let me tell you what to do. After all, you know me as well as you know the rest of Mineral Wells.” He sniffed and then added darkly, “Which is to say: Not at all.” Producing a deck of cards at his fingertips, Mr. Vernon said, “I must be going. But I’ll leave you with a card trick, if you like.” Carter couldn’t say no. “Take a card, any card.”
The cards sprang out of Mr. Vernon’s hands and shot toward Carter like machine-gun bullets. Carter raised his arms to swat away and shield himself from the rapid-fire onslaught of the card storm. When the last of them fluttered to the ground, Carter realized he held a single playing card.
It was an ace of spades with a giant letter V inside the spade in the center of the card.
“What’s this for?” he asked.
But the mysterious Mr. Vernon was nowhere to be seen.
FIVE
Mr. Vernon had vanished, and Carter was still so hungry he worried that he soon might vanish too. This time, for good. Leaning against a wooden fence at the edge of the fairground, his stomach growled. He tried to think of something else.
He had a dozen questions for the odd Mr. Vernon, the least of which was how he managed to disappear in a flash of cards. The man with curly white hair was the opposite of his uncle in every way. Mr. Vernon’s smile was genuine. He did tricks for no reason other than to be friendly. And his cryptic warning made it seem like he cared more about Carter’s well-being after a two-minute chat than Uncle Sly had shown in a lifetime.