Prince of Air by Ann Hood

Author:Ann Hood
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2012-10-18T04:00:00+00:00

Surely the tall, red-haired brother was Harry Houdini, Felix decided as he and Maisie made their way to the back door where they’d been told the performers exited. That little guy had terrible grammar, and he looked so intense he scared Felix when his light-eyed stare seemed to briefly alight on him.

“If this Houdini guy is who we’re supposed to find,” Maisie said, pulling Felix’s tuxedo jacket tighter around her, “we could give him the handcuffs right away and be back at Elm Medona by bedtime.”

She added, “If we had the handcuffs.”

They reached the back door, and the strong man was just coming out. Up close in the harsh light above the door, he looked much older. His lined face was covered in thick orange pancake makeup, and he smelled like smoke.

“Excuse me,” Maisie said to him. “Are the Houdini Brothers still in there?”

“Yeah, they’re in there,” he answered in a thick accent that sounded like Katya who worked at the Polish deli their father liked. “Practicing,” he said, shaking his head. “Always practicing. Especially that Ehrich. The other one, Dash, he just goes along with him.”

“Ehrich?” Felix said, confused. “Dash? There must be another Houdini brother then.”

The strong man shrugged. “Maybe. Who knows? They live in Manhattan, up in the East Sixties. There might be a dozen Houdini brothers.”

He waved good-bye with his large hand and walked away, getting swallowed up into the crowd of the amusement park.

Maisie turned to Felix.

“These are the wrong Houdinis!” she said. “Now what? Are we supposed to find some other Houdinis?”

“I don’t know,” Felix said, puzzled. “Maybe I was wrong and the handcuffs are supposed to go to someone else. It just seemed interesting that Great-Uncle Thorne told me about Harry Houdini and how he could escape from any pair of handcuffs and Great-Aunt Maisie was hiding these and we ended up at Coney Island at a magic show given by the Brothers Houdini and—”

“Okay, okay,” Maisie said. “Everything adds up.”

“Except who are Ehrich and Dash Houdini?” Felix asked.

“Actually, it’s Dash Weiss,” a deep voice said.

Felix and Maisie looked up into the blue eyes of Dash.

How long has he been standing there? Felix wondered. What else has he heard us say?

“You’re not Houdini?” Felix said.

Dash laughed and stretched his hand out for Felix to shake.

“There is no Houdini,” he explained. “Or, more accurately, Houdinis, since there’s two of us. Ehrich read some book about a French magician, and he liked the name, that’s all.”

Maisie sighed. “So the guy we’re looking for is in France then. How are we supposed to get to France?”

Dash laughed again, harder this time.

“You’ll have to go farther than France if you want to meet Jean-Euge’ne Houdin,” he said.

“Where is he?” Felix asked.

They’d sailed for weeks across the Atlantic with Alexander Hamilton and escaped the Boxer Rebellion in China with Pearl Buck. They would just have to do whatever it took to find the right Houdini.

“No matter where,” Felix said. “We can do it.”

“I don’t think so,” Dash said. “He died over twenty years ago.

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