Kingdom Keepers: The Return Book Two: Legacy of Secrets Read Free

here.”
    *  *  *
    Finn had just taken hold of the suit coat’s lapel when the napping Walt Disney rose up on one arm. He looked in the direction of the knocking.
    At that moment, Willa and Philby stepped through the closet door and into the narrow hallway behind Finn.
    With Walt distracted, Finn focused and directed his prickling fingers to the valet’s tray table. His first effort to pick up one of the pennies failed. But he pushed, gathered his full concentration, and managed to make himself solidly physical enough to manipulate matter. In an instant, Finn had flung the coin toward the small table at the window looking out onto Town Square, which held a replica gas lamp. The coin clinked as it landed.
    The groggy man whipped his head toward the sound.
    Finn peeled open the sports coat, snatched a fountain pen, which had been clipped inside the chest pocket, and headed for the back door, a step behind Willa and Philby, who moved, ghostlike, through the solid wood. Finn clutched the pen tightly in his hand. As a material object, it wouldn’t pass through the door like his projection. He was reaching for the dead-bolt lock when an eerily familiar voice called out, “Hello?” It was a voice Finn knew from DVDs and YouTube. It was as powerful to him as the Wizard was to Dorothy.
    It was Walt Disney.
    Finn dove for the fireman’s pole. He slid down the brass pipe and landed on a hissing cushion shaped like a doughnut. Except for a single silhouetted figure standing in the open bay door, the firehouse stood empty.
    Finn tried to catch his breath. The air was hot and smelled of sawdust and pine. Being a projection, Finn didn’t actually breathe, but to him he felt he did. If you asked Finn Whitman, he sweated, breathed, ached, and itched, just like his human, solid self. And he maintained that illusion. By agreement, the Keepers kept their projections secret. There would be far too many questions to answer if found out. Now he just needed to get past this man without incident.
    “And just where did you come from?” the man’s thin, almost cartoony voice asked. It had no place in one so tall and formidable. Finn wanted a better angle, a chance to see the man’s face.
    Finn had to think quickly. “I run errands for Mr. Disney. I’m an errand runner.”
    “Is that so?”
    “I like taking the pole. Makes me feel like a fireman.” Even without seeing the man clearly, Finn could tell he didn’t believe him. He could think of several reasons why that might be the case—first and foremost, Finn was a lousy liar. But another possibility was that the man had expected someone else to come down the pole.
    Finn heard the muted sound of feet coming quickly down the stairs. The silhouette heard them as well. The stairs led to Walt’s apartment, but Willa and Philby—who wouldn’t make clunky sounds—should have already made it down.
    “Mr. Hollingsworth!” the voice of a young woman called. The man spun. Finn saw his face in profile: a Roman nose and cleft chin, wide eyes—brown?—and big ears. Plain looking, not handsome, Finn thought.
    The name meant something to Finn—he’d heard it from Philby, maybe.
    Hollingsworth shot a final look in Finn’s direction. Though he remained silent, something shouted to Finn: “Watch yourself!” Then Hollingsworth turned and caught up to the two young women, both of whom were dressed in maid uniforms. The three vanished into the overwhelmingly thick crowd.
    Feeling threatened and afraid, Finn ran for backstage. He couldn’t get there fast enough.
    It would be the last Finn ever saw of the two girls.

T HEY MET IN THE SHADE of a pair of orange trees beyond the Shooting Gallery, near the Pack Mules ride. Their projections were caught by the dappled sunlight cast down by the overarching limbs and leaves, making the teens into virtual checkerboards. Wayne sat in a crouch, up on his knees like a runner on the blocks. He checked around for eavesdroppers, and then hastily unrolled