The Candy Shop War, Vol. 2: Arcade Catastrophe (13 page)

“Have you seen Lindy?”

Pigeon paused. Mr. Stott was her guardian. He deserved honest answers. “She came to my house last night.”

“I knew she left last night. She returned in the small hours of the morning. We had an argument about her leaving. She made it clear that if I would not grant permission, she would do whatever she wanted. I made it clear that such behavior was unacceptable. She ran off again afterward. She hasn’t come home. I’ve been looking for her for hours.”

“I haven’t seen Lindy today,” Pigeon said honestly. “She was pretty worked up when she came to visit me. She probably just needs to blow off some steam.”

Mr. Stott rubbed his beard. “I’m worried about her. And a little concerned about the rest of us. As much as I have grown to care for Lindy, we must not forget who she used to be.”

“Right.”

“I can’t find her anywhere. I worry she may have gotten into trouble.”

“I’ll keep an eye out,” Pigeon said. “If she shows up, I’ll call.”

“Could you tell the other kids to be on the lookout?” Mr. Stott asked.

“Sure,” Pigeon said. “I’ll get in touch with them right away.”

“How are things at the arcade?”

“Nate has almost enough tickets to join one of the clubs. One of the women working there is Suyin Chen. She’s going by the name of Katie Sung.”

Mr. Stott looked startled. “I know of Suyin Chen. She’s a dangerous woman. You don’t want to fight her. If circumstances ever lead to a physical confrontation, run, and don’t look back.”

“That’s my basic plan with any confrontation,” Pigeon replied.

“Smart lad. Still no clue who owns Arcadeland?”

“Not yet. We’re hoping Nate might find out if he earns a stamp.”

“All right.” Mr. Stott caressed the steering wheel. “You kids take care. I’m working on a new batch of Peak Performance gum. You four are using it up at an alarming rate.”

“Sorry,” Pigeon said.

Mr. Stott waved away the apology. “It’s for a good cause. I wish I could make the effect stay at full potency with consecutive uses. Moon Rocks work every time, regardless of the quantity consumed. Brain Feed seems to work better when administered often. But not Peak Performance.”

“It’s working fine,” Pigeon encouraged. “We’re cleaning up on tickets.”

“I’m glad. Stay prepared for trouble. And watch for Lindy.”

“Will do,” Pigeon pledged. He climbed down from the ice cream truck and watched as it drove away, not playing any music.

*****

The next morning, Todd looked tired when he admitted Nate and his friends through the side door. Todd and Cleon were the only visible employees. They supervised as Nate, Summer, Trevor, and Pigeon dominated game after game. Attractions like Shooting Stars paid lots of tickets but also gobbled time, since all of the tickets had to pay out before another turn could be taken. Having the arcade to themselves allowed Nate and his friends to move around aggressively, playing other games while tickets spooled out after a big score. It was only a matter of minutes before Nate had enough tickets to claim a stamp.

Todd went behind the redemption counter when Nate approached.

“Finally going to cash in some tickets?” Todd asked.

“One jet stamp, please.”

Todd covered his mouth and chuckled. “You only started playing here a couple days ago and you’re already taking the big prize. Talk about some serious skills. Let’s count your tickets.”

Nate handed over four cards and Todd scanned them.

“You have almost two thousand tickets to spare,” Todd said. “Nice work. Your extra tickets are on this card. I assume you’ll want it for your friends?”

“Yeah, we worked together.”

Todd handed the card back to Nate. “No rules against pooling your tickets.” Todd crouched and removed the jet stamp from under the counter. He handed it to Nate. “Last one.”

“Last one?” Nate furrowed his brow. Roman must have finished up yesterday after all. “Who took the second to last?”

“I can’t share that with you,” Todd said. “It was claimed yesterday evening. You’re welcome to ask around. Or you can find out when your first stamp gets applied. The other Jets will be there.”

“When it gets applied?” Nate wondered.

“You earned the stamp itself. The ink comes later. Come back at ten this morning, we’ll get you hooked up. Then you’ll learn what your prize really means.”

Pocketing his jet stamp, Nate turned to rejoin his friends. They gathered around him, and he dug it out of his pocket.

“Doesn’t look like much,” Trevor said.

“The stamp itself probably isn’t valuable,” Pigeon speculated. “It’s like a ticket.”

“I’m supposed to come back at ten to get the stamp applied,” Nate said. “I guess I’ll find out more then.” He held up a card. “This has about two thousand tickets. We should start earning more.”

Pigeon had a knack for hitting the Shooting Stars jackpot on every try; Trevor kept claiming the grand prize on Wheel of Destiny; Summer worked some of the other games where the player had to freeze lights; and Nate methodically upped the record on basketball. Todd and Cleon watched in disbelief, replacing rolls of tickets as needed.

The flood of tickets slowed as the kids moved into their fourth, fifth, and sixth sticks of Peak Performance. Cleon and Todd stopped having to refill ticket dispensers quite as regularly. Pigeon remained able to freeze Shooting Stars for the jackpot longer than the others, but when his average fell below once every twenty tries, he moved on.

As Peak Performance elevated their abilities less and less, they migrated to the shooting gallery and the basketball game. They could no longer beat any records, but they could hit preset benchmarks to earn reasonable payouts.

By the time Cleon announced that he and Todd needed to close up to prepare to open the arcade to the public, the four kids had accumulated more than 75,000 tickets. They gathered near the redemption counter to confer.

“Who gets the next stamp?” Nate asked.

“We should buy a tank,” Pigeon said. “It costs more tickets than the racecar or the submarine, so it might be more important.”

“I could do the tank,” Summer offered.

“Fine with me,” Trevor said. “I like the look of the racecar.”

“Does that make me the submarine?” Pigeon asked.

“Do you mind?” Summer checked.

“Not really,” Pigeon replied. “We don’t even know what the stamps mean.”

“Can we buy another stamp?” Summer called.

Todd hustled over. “Which one?”

“I want a tank,” Summer said.

“Nice choice,” Todd said, handing over the stamp. “Two tanks left. You can come by at eleven to get it applied.” He slapped his hands on the counter. “All set?”

“Thanks,” Summer said.

“Great,” Todd replied. “Beat it for now. We have to get ready to open up for the mere mortals.”

“We’re mortals,” Nate said.

Todd squinted and waggled his hand, suggesting that Nate’s statement was iffy. “Maybe part of the time. Not so much when you’re chewing that gum. Hey, I don’t blame you. I miss the days when those kinds of enhancements worked on me. Enjoy it while you can. You get older every day.”

Nate knew that a lot of the magic produced by magicians worked better on young people, which was why they recruited kids. But he hadn’t wondered much about what happened to those kids once they grew up. He wanted to ask follow-up questions, but Cleon was shooing them toward the door. “This plan only works if you leave when you’re supposed to go. We’ll be here tomorrow. We’ll be rooting for you to finish your stamp quest so we can get some proper sleep.”

Pigeon led the way out the side door. Heavy morning traffic clogged Canal Street. At five the street had been quiet—now it was bumper to bumper. They walked down the sidewalk for three blocks, then turned up a side street to the find the white van waiting as promised.

“Earn many tickets?” Victor asked as the kids entered.

“Two stamps and a bunch of extras to put toward tomorrow,” Pigeon replied.

“It was almost too easy,” Summer said.

“Peak Performance takes the challenge out of it,” Trevor said. “We’re lucky they didn’t stop us from using it.”

“They want resourceful people,” Nate said. “They just didn’t want us showing off in front of other customers.”

“Watch yourselves,” Victor cautioned. “If they know you have magical enhancers, they know you’re involved with another magician. I can’t imagine they’ll be quick to trust you.”

“Do you think they’re setting us up?” Pigeon asked.

“One way or another, I’m sure they are,” Ziggy said.

“John needs us,” Nate said. “I have a meeting at ten. Summer at eleven. It might be risky, but at least we’ll finally get a chance to learn more about what’s going on. Hopefully it’s not too late to help our friends.”

Chapter Nine

Jets

Nate felt nervous as he approached the redemption counter ten minutes early. He tried to persuade himself that he wasn’t as alone as he felt. Trevor, Summer, and Pigeon were stationed nearby with Shock Bits, Flame Outs, and other candy. The Battiatos waited right outside, ready to charge to the rescue.

Nate had debated over whether to bring any magical candy to the meeting. In the end, he decided that since the arcade employees seemed to already suspect he had been using magical candy, it couldn’t hurt to have some on him in case of an emergency. He had two doses of Shock Bits, two Moon Rocks, and a Frost Bite. He would have liked to have brought a Sweet Tooth, but none of Mrs. White’s remained, and Mr. Stott had failed when he had tried to replicate them.

A trio of teenagers stood at the glass counter choosing prizes. Nate didn’t recognize the woman helping them. A hand clamped down on his shoulder from behind.

“You’re early,” Cleon said. His hair and sideburns looked more styled than they had this morning. His shirt had a glossy sheen and rhinestone buttons.

“Better than late,” Nate replied.

“Let’s head on back.”

Nate followed Cleon through a different EMPLOYEES ONLY door than he had used on his previous visit behind the scenes at Arcadeland. Soon they moved along a cramped, concrete hallway crowded with pipes and electrical equipment.

“So this is where the magic happens,” Nate said.

“Trust me, kid,” Cleon replied. “The magic around here isn’t in the plumbing or the wiring.”

They stopped in front of a wooden door.

“Here we are,” Cleon said. “Be polite. This is no joke. You brought the stamp?”

Nate held it up.

Cleon opened the door, revealing a plain room where a lone man sat at a bare table. He had black, wild hair, either gelled or greasy, and a thin beard that traced his jawline and circled his lips. His face was creased enough that Nate wondered whether he dyed his hair to hide his gray. The man wore white gloves and a loose coat fancifully embroidered with many colors.

“Can I get you anything?” Cleon asked respectfully.

The man waved him away, then indicated the only other chair in the room to Nate. Cleon closed the door, and Nate sat facing the man across the flimsy table.

“I understand you won a jet stamp,” the man said in a syrupy voice.

“That’s right,” Nathan said cautiously.

The man leaned forward, extending a gloved hand. “We haven’t been introduced. I’m Jonas White.”

“Nate. Nathan Sutter.” Nate shook his hand.

“Rhymes with
stutter.
You may have known my sister. Belinda?”

Nate was unsure how to reply. “You’re related to Belinda White?”

“Only by blood.”

“She opened that candy shop in Colson,” Nate said, hoping his voice sounded neutral.

“And then mysteriously vanished. I can tell you’re tense, Nate. You should be. I’ve spoken with a source close to the incident. You were involved. Another magician took possession of the candy shop—Sebastian Stott. Are you working for him?”

“I know him,” Nate said. “He’s given me some candy. I don’t work for him.”

“Good to hear,” Jonas said. “Whether or not you’re telling the truth, if I let you keep that stamp, you’ll work for me.”

“I thought I owned the stamp.”

“Let me rephrase,” Jonas amended. “If I grant access to the ink that will make that stamp mean something, you will work for me.”

“Doing what?”

“I’m a treasure hunter, Nate, and I could use some help.”

“What kind of treasure?”

“Not water from the Fountain of Youth,” Jonas assured him. “That well has run dry, at least around these parts. No, I’m looking for an older, more significant prize. Have you heard of the mage Iwa Iza?”

“No.”

“Unsurprising. He lived ages ago. His people are no more. His language went extinct long before Europeans discovered this continent. But he left a unique treasure behind.”

“What is it?”

“The details are vague. But the prowess of Iwa Iza is renowned among magicians. He used his power to protect his people and the natural world they admired. A few of his inimitable creations have survived, but his masterwork was called Uweya, and it is hidden somewhere in this area.”

“Uweya?”

“That may not even be the correct pronunciation,” Jonas said. “The language is lost. I can offer no translation. But I’m here to follow some clues that might lead us to Iwa Iza’s masterpiece. Many have sought Uweya. Hanaver Mills was involved in the hunt. Success eluded him, but he searched here for years, which is why he hid his water from the Fountain of Youth in this vicinity. I gleaned some insights from his failures, and from the fruitless efforts of many others. I am finally closing in on my prize. Would you like to become involved?”