Magic Mansion Jordan Price (best non fiction books of all time txt) 📖

Kevin bellowed in pain when he plunged in, and the encouraging sound of his agony propelled Ricardo forward. John had already climbed from the pool by the time Ricardo reached the far ladder, grabbed it…and fell back in. His hands had seized up with the cold, numb and weak. His feet, then. He’d need to do most of the climbing with his feet.

But just as he grabbed at the rungs to take another try, Kevin nailed him with a red, cherry-flavored splash, knocked him back, and scurried up the ladder himself. That fucker probably can’t even feel his hands anyway, Ricardo thought, nerve damage from all that damn weight training.

“And Professor Topaz takes his trapeze in just under three minutes,” Monty called out.

Ricardo was elated—but only for a moment. There was still some kind of “strategy” in play…and no doubt Kevin would use that strategy to try to take out his biggest competition: John.

Kevin dashed across the lawn. He was a plodding runner, but he had a good head start. Ricardo followed, tucking his hands into his armpits as he did, in hopes of warming some feeling into his fingers.

“Kevin Kazan is at the trapeze in three minutes, four seconds! The Professor is still holding on.”

Ricardo skidded to a stop beneath his trapeze, blew once into each of his hands, then jumped up and grabbed.

“Ricardo the Magnificent at three minutes, eight seconds.”

Four seconds—Kevin only had four seconds on him so far. That wasn’t long. Ricardo would just need to catch up with Kevin, somehow, by dangling longer from the damn bar.

Unfortunately, as he hung there by his frigid, aching fingers, Ricardo realized that dangling from the bar was difficult after ten seconds, painful after twenty, and downright excruciating after thirty. He chanced a look to see how Kevin Kazan was doing. Kevin was looking right at him.

Smiling.

Damn it. If there were only a way to knock that bastard off his trapeze—with what, a packing peanut? He’d hardly notice. And there was no dust to throw at him either; the grounds were a soup of red slush. Ricardo’s shoulders burned, really burned, and his fingers were screaming.

“The Professor’s been holding on for nearly a minute…and Sue’s out of the pool!”

Sue dashed across the lawn, leapt up and grabbed her trapeze. She was sucking air in huge sobs.

“Kevin and Ricardo hanging past the minute mark, too. Bev jumps into the pool as Jia climbs out. It’s still anybody’s game.”

“Hurts your hands,” Kevin said cheerfully, turning to John. “Don’t it?”

John didn’t answer.

“Shoulders, too. Back, sides…. Think how easy it’d be to just…let…go.”

“Jia’s almost at the trapeze.”

“Can’t feel too good, what with the taste of blood in your mouth.”

John looked straight ahead.

“Hands burning. Delts. Pecs. You’re shaking, old man. But me, I could stay here all day.”

Still, John resisted the bait.

Kevin kept going. “Don’t even know who smacked you back there in the popcorn…do you? Wasn’t me. I was at the other end of the castle. Who else got it in for you, huh?”

“Shut up,” Ricardo gasped.

Kevin ignored him. “You think anyone care ’bout what happened to your man last year? That’s old news. All they care ‘bout is the quarter-mil, and you standing in their way.”

John closed his eyes, gave a grunt…and let go.

Monty said, “And the Professor is done, as Jia takes her trapeze. Great job, Professor Topaz.”

The seconds ticked by, pain raging through Ricardo’s muscles…and that bastard Kazan was still fucking smiling.

“Ohmigod,” Sue gasped, as she let go, too—with Jia’s fingers slipping off right after.

“Sue is out. Jia is out.”

Ricardo shut his eyes and focused. It would feel so good to let his hands slide from the bar. But he couldn’t. He just couldn’t. Unfortunately, no matter how strong the will, the body can only be pushed so far. Despite how hard Ricardo tried, eventually he felt his fingers…begin…to slip.

His knees felt like rubber when his feet hit the ground. “And Ricardo the Magnificent is done. Well played, Ricardo. And Bev is struggling with the ladder—that’s four times she’s fallen back in.”

“Go, Bev,” Sue called, and Ricardo turned to cheer on poor Bev, who shrieked as she forced her way out of the frigid red water.

Kevin finally let himself drop from the trapeze as Bev hauled herself out of the pool and began trudging her way across the lawn in a waterlogged, pink-stained clown suit. By now everyone was cheering for her, even Kevin. Though Ricardo suspected he only did it so he didn’t come across as a complete jerk by kicking the underdog when she was down.

Bev paused to catch her breath, hands on knees, drinking great gasps of air, although the respite racked up still more time to her score. No doubt she was painfully aware of each and every second. Finally, when she could straighten up, she leapt up and caught the bar while all the other Magicians cheered wildly. She hung there, still gasping for air, for twelve seconds. And then she dropped.

Iain called cut.

One assistant wrapped Ricardo in a robe while another pressed a cup of black coffee into his hands. Ricardo was shaking so hard his teeth actually clattered together. John had been taken off to the sidelines where a pair of medics fussed over his nosebleed with ice packs and gauze. Bev sat on the lawn with her head between her knees like she was about to faint. Jia was ranting about freezing to death. Sue had collapsed into a sobbing heap. Kevin, though, simply stood there in his robe with that fucking smile fixed in place, and looked around in triumph at each of his competitors.

“Okay,” Iain said, “listen up. We’ll get some portable heaters out here to dry you off, but then we’ve got to go right into the scoring.”

The scoring. Great. Why not just declare Kevin the winner of the whole damn thing and save everyone the trauma of another gauntlet of challenges?

Bev raised her head from her knees and asked Ricardo, “Did they say how the trapeze time was being