“You’re Mad Rogan!” Leon burst out. “Yes,” Mad Rogan said, his voice calm. “And you can break cities?” “Yes.” “And you have all this money and magic?” “Yes.” Where was Leon going with this? My cousin blinked. “And you look . . . like that?” Mad Rogan nodded. “Yes.” Leon’s dark eyes went wide. He looked at Mad Rogan, then glanced down at himself. At sixteen, Leon weighed barely a hundred pounds. His arms and legs were like chopsticks. “There is no justice in the world!” Leon announced. I giggled and almost choked on my pancake. Mother cracked a smile. “Can you play guitar too?” Leon asked.
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