The Magnificent 12 Read Online Free

Or will a swirlie do it?”
    Mack’s breath was coming in short, panicky gasps. But he had stopped screaming, which was good.
    â€œGet a grip,” Stefan said, using his lowest level of threatening voice. It was almost kind. Not really, but for him.
    â€œYou don’t understand. I—I-I-I . . .”
    Stefan let him go, and Mack, still shaking, tried to get a grip. What he gripped was the sink. He stared at his reflection in the mirror. He didn’t look good, frankly. He looked old—really, really old. He had wrinkles that looked like an aerial map of the Rocky Mountains. His teeth were tinged green. His hair was pale and wispy. His eyes were unfocused, blank, wandering randomly around like he was following two agitated flies simultaneously.
    In fact, he looked exactly like Grimluk.
    â€œGrimluk!” Mack cried. Because it was true: the reflection was no reflection at all but the familiar, astoundingly old, grizzled, gamy, quite-possibly-somewhat-dead face of Grimluk.
    â€œI fade. . . . Mack of the Magnifica . . . I weaken. . . .”
    â€œOh no you don’t!” Mack snapped. “You just got here!”
    Grimluk blinked. “Oh? It felt like longer. Where are you?”
    â€œThe Punjab!”
    â€œHmmm. I don’t know that one,” Grimluk said. “In my day we only had seven countries: Funguslakia, North Rot, Crushia, the Republic of Stench, Scabia, Eczema, and Delaware.”
    â€œI don’t care. Grimluk, I’m trying to find Valin and solve whatever his problem is. Plus I still have to figure out who the others are. You have to help!”
    â€œOthers?”
    â€œI only have six with me: Jarrah, Xiao, Dietmar, Sylvie, Charlie, and Rodrigo.”
    â€œJust eight?”
    â€œNo, that’s seven total, counting me. We still need Valin and four more.”
    â€œAre you sure?”
    â€œYes. Yes. I can do basic math!”
    Grimluk drew himself up with as much dignity as he could while peering out of a smeared bathroom mirror and said, “There is no need to flaunt your fancy modern learning. I fade. . . . I weaken. . . . I was never . . . good . . . at math. . . .”
    â€œWhere do I find Valin and the other four?”
    â€œNot in the same place, Mack.”
    At this point Stefan said, “You’re talking to the old dude I can’t see, right?”
    Stefan’s remark caused Mack to look around and take notice of the fact that three very polite tourists from Japan were taking video of what looked like a crazy kid talking—yelling, actually—at a mirror.
    â€œI’m not crazy,” Mack said. No one was convinced.
    â€œValin is near, though he won’t be when you catch him,” Grimluk said. “The others . . . the others . . .”
    And sure enough, the image faded, and the ancient voice—a voice so old that when Grimluk spoke, you could practically hear wrinkles—likewise faded out.
    â€œNooooo!” Mack pounded the mirror because now his own reflection had appeared, replacing Grimluk’s.
    Grimluk faded back in. “A gate . . .”
    â€œA what?”
    â€œGolden . . . of . . . I see a pillar of orange. . . .”
    â€œNo, no, no, none of that cryptic stuff,” Mack yelled. “We are running out of time!”
    â€œAnts!” Grimluk cried.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œBeware of ants!”
    â€œI promise I will,” Mack yelled. “Now just tell me how to find—”
    â€œI see a bridge of orange. . . .”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œActually more of a . . . I fade. . . . I weaken. . . .”
    â€œGet back here!”
    â€œReddish orange. A gate of gold.”
    And with that, he was gone.
    â€œGrimluk!” Mack howled.
    Making a “grrrrrr” face, Mack stormed out of the