The Magnificent 12 by Michael Grant

Mack said. As they headed off to the lake where they had first emerged in this time and place, Mack pulled Xiao aside. “What was it that Sean Patrick was about to say to Boguslawa?”
    â€œThat he has been taking classes from a man who hopes to pass his business on to Sean Patrick. A man who hopes Sean Patrick will be like the son he never had and carry the honored family name forward.”
    â€œAre you about to tell me . . . ?”
    Xiao nodded. “Yes. Sean Patrick has been apprentice to a clown.”
    â€œUm . . .”
    â€œHe says if he studies hard and gets good enough, he will inherit the title of . . . Izmir the Clown.”
    â€œWhatever you do—” Mack warned.
    â€œNot a word to Valin,” Xiao swore. “Not a word.”
    Paddy “Nine Iron” Trout was at a loss. He didn’t want to live in the year 1634. There were medications and ointments in the twenty-first century that he would have a hard time finding here. On the other hand, he also didn’t want to face the wrath of the Pale Queen when she learned he had let Valin join the Magnificent Twelve.
    He thought it over quickly, but by the time he reached a conclusion the next morning, he was alone.

Fifteen
    T he Magnificent Eight . . . Wait, let’s check that: Mack, Jarrah, Xiao, Dietmar, Sylvie, Rodrigo, Charlie, and Valin. Yes, eight.
    The Magnificent Eight plus Stefan were face-to-face with the reality that time was just about up. And they were still eight and not twelve. If you know anything about math, you’ll agree that meant they were short by four.
    And bad things were brewing. The news report on the hotel TV was alarming enough even if you didn’t suspect what was behind it: a volcano was forming in the ocean off San Francisco.
    You know the last time a volcano formed off the coast of San Francisco? Probably the Jurassic period. There would have been dinosaurs saying, “Hey, what’s that?”
    There were no dinosaurs around now, just the BBC on the television at the hotel where most of the Magnifica had spent their time trying to figure out what had happened to Mack, Xiao, and Stefan.
    â€œThe dome is growing at an incredible rate, according to volcanologists. The ash plume is already drifting over the city, and California may experience major earthquakes and tidal waves. But first, we have the results of the cricket match between Kenya and Sri Lanka.”
    â€œAre you guys thinking what I’m thinking?” Mack asked.
    â€œThat I never did get those lentils?” Stefan said. He nodded angrily. “Yeah. That’s what I’m thinking.”
    â€œCould this volcano be a manifestation of the Pale Queen?” Xiao suggested.
    â€œIt’s awfully coincidental,” Charlie said.
    Sylvie said, “Can it not be said that all of life is a coincidence?” Then she thought it over and answered her own question. “No. I think this is the Pale Queen.”
    â€œThen we know where we have to go. But we don’t have time to search the world for the remaining four.”
    â€œWe fight the Pale Queen with just the eight of us?” Dietmar asked skeptically. “I understood that even with all twelve we would be unlikely to win. With eight we are surely doomed.”
    â€œThat’s right, Captain Optimist,” Jarrah said.
    â€œHere’s my idea,” Mack said. “We know we’re being followed on YouTube by all kinds of people. For example, the Lepercon battle has been viewed more than ‘Nyan Cat’ and a quarter as much as ‘Gangnam Style.’ And the Eiffel Tower thing is really blowing up, too.”
    â€œIt was trending on Twitter for days,” Rodrigo said. “Up until the Taylor Swift slap fight with Justin Bieber.”
    â€œThen it’s time we put all that fame to use,” Mack said. “We need to send out a call for the remaining four to get to San