Story Thieves (23 page)

“He's not your father, Bethany,” the voice said.

The Pegasus below her turned its head and bit down on her hand, hard. She screamed, and the winged horse bucked hard. She slid right off its back, off into nothingness as rain and thunder pounded all around her.

“Bethany!” the voice shouted.

“NO!” she said, even as wind whipped past her so fast she could barely breathe. “I'm not leaving! I'm not leaving without saying good-bye!”

The clouds whizzed by, revealing a lush green land that rose alarmingly fast. Above, the Pegasus dove straight for her, his mouth open, his razor-sharp hooves ready to strike.

“NO!” she shouted again. “I can't . . . not again!”

But the voice didn't respond as Bethany tumbled down and down, everything falling apart.

O
wen sat by himself, his head on his knees, staring off into the blackened, charred remains of the Magister's study, not speaking, barely moving.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been there, just sitting. It was hard to tell time in a place that didn't believe in the science behind clocks. Though those clocks probably would have been destroyed in the explosion that Owen had caused anyway. Ruined just like everything else.

A light appeared in the dimness, and Charm stepped out of a teleporting beam, then slowly walked over to Owen, who didn't look at her. Kiel's winged cat, Alphonse, appeared right after her, then took to the air, sniffing all around as he flew. Owen watched as the cat settled on the remains of a high cabinet, then moved one glowing paw in a circle. Food magically appeared in a bowl in front of him, and the cat happily began to eat.

“What are you doing here?” Charm asked him, sitting down next to him. Owen noticed out of the corner of his eye that she had a new robotic arm. Apparently, her ship didn't just do brain surgery.

“Waiting,” he told her.

“For what?”

“To go home.”

She looked all around. “This isn't home?”

He shook his head. “You should probably leave.”

“I can't. You know that. All of Magisteria is about to be destroyed in just a couple of hours, and—”

“I can't do this, Charm,” Owen said quietly. “I don't belong here. I never did. She was right, and I should have listened.”

“She?” Charm asked quietly.

“This friend of mine,” Owen said. “I thought this was going to be fun. We'd go on adventures. I'd cast magic spells and fight Science Soldiers and take down Dr. Verity. My friend told me it was a mistake, but I didn't listen. And the worst part is, I might even have put her in danger, and it's too late to do anything about that. I have to leave. I have to go home.”

“I'd do it myself, you know,” Charm said, turning her head back toward the burned study. “Give up my heart, if it weren't
made of metal and plastic. So you wouldn't have to.”

“You're a much better person than I am, then,” Owen said, looking away.

“That's not why I said that. I meant that if I could take this choice away from you, I would. It's not fair. You've given up almost everything to save your world, and now it's asking for what little you have left.”

Owen squeezed his eyes shut, wanting to punch something. No, he hadn't. He'd done this on a whim, wanting to play Kiel Gnomenfoot instead of doing the smart thing and heading home with Nobody! At least then he could have made up for his original mistake by helping find Bethany and bringing the Magister and Kiel back. Instead, he'd chosen to stay, knowing that by not helping, it'd give him more time to be the hero.

And now, when people actually did need him, all he wanted to do was run home.

Part of him wanted to scream and yell, kicking floors and punching walls. It wasn't fair! This wasn't his fight. He didn't know any of these people. Were they even real? And if so, was there even going to be an attack, or was that just what they as characters were told so the story could move along? What was real here?

Part of him thought those things. But the rest of him knew better. The people of Magisteria might be fictional, but they were as real as Charm was, sitting there beside him, trying to be there for him when all he wanted to do was run from his mistakes and from Kiel's future. And he'd chosen this to be his fight when he hadn't left with Nobody. He hadn't realized it at the time, but not knowing didn't change what had to be done.

“Whatever you decide, I'll understand,” Charm said, pushing herself to her feet. She paused. “But in the meantime, I have something for you.”

He glanced up to find her holding a familiar-looking box, one that increased in size as he took it. “It's the magic box you gave me when we found the First Key,” she told him. “You should have it back. Just in case.”

He took the box but didn't open it, not even sure what had been in it when it'd first turned up back in the original Kiel Gnomenfoot book. “Thanks.”

“I'm going to go back to the ship,” she said, standing up. “Even with a robotic heart, maybe there's still some way I can stop Dr. Verity. I'm not going to give up. You . . . you do what you need to.”

He watched her move away and ready the teleporting beam. “Charm?”

“Yes?” She stopped before pushing the button.

“Since when were you comfortable being all emotional like that?”

Her eyes narrowed, and she started to yell something, then stopped. “Honestly? It's been you. Without all that arrogant bragging and those clever jokes, I actually don't hate you.” She grinned slightly. “At least not as much.”

Then she clicked the button and disappeared in the same light that had brought her.

Owen dropped the magic box, gritted his teeth, and let out a growl of frustration. “I don't want to die!” he shouted to no one except Alphonse, who looked up for a moment, licked his lips, then went back to eating. “It's not supposed to be me. I just . . . I just wanted to go on an adventure. Is that so wrong?”

No one, nor Nobody, answered.

Owen looked across the destroyed study, the room that he'd destroyed himself. Yes, Kiel should have been here, and he
would
have been, if Owen hadn't tricked Bethany into coming in the first place. None of this would have happened, and
Owen would still be safe at home, reading about Kiel sacrificing himself for his entire world.

Magisteria, all those people . . . They didn't have a hero anymore. Not when they needed one. And it was Owen's fault.

He glanced up at Alphonse noisily eating his magically created food. The cat looked up again, then leaped into air, his wings gliding him over to Owen, where he landed on Owen's shoulders. The cat began to purr, pushing his head up against Owen's, his wings wrapping around his body comfortably.

With a sigh Owen opened the magic box Charm had left him. Inside was a teleportation button, which would bring him back to the ship. She must have left it just in case.

Owen reached up and scratched Alphonse's neck. “This is the dumbest thing I've ever done,” he told the cat.

The cat just purred in response.

“I really hope there's a big funeral,” he said.

Right as he pushed the teleporting switch, he glanced down and noticed one last thing in the box as he disappeared in a beam of light.

There, at the very bottom of the box, lay a robotic heart.

B
ethany's Pegasus dove straight for her as the ground rushed up to meet her. She screamed, then at the last possible moment jumped out of the story and into complete darkness.

“NO!” she screamed, feeling all around her. Where was she? Was she dead? And if so, why did it smell so bad?

“Bethany?” Kiel said from a short distance away. “Is that you?”

Her heart beat fast, too fast, at the sound of his voice, and she took a deep breath before answering. “Yeah, I . . . I think so. Where are we?”

“The tower's dungeon,” Kiel said. “I assume, anyway. It's a bit hard to see in all of this darkness. Definitely smells like it, though.”

She felt around, and little bits of hay stabbed into her fingers. “We're in jail cells?”

“Basically. I'd watch where you put your hands, by the way. The hay isn't just for sleeping on.”

Ugh.
“I . . . I was in a story. A voice told me that the Magister had Jonathan Porterhouse write me into one. Was that you, the voice I heard?”

“Um, not that I know of,” Kiel said. “I saw the Magister push you into some pages, but I didn't know you could hear anything in there. What did this voice say?”

Bethany paused, then shook her head in the darkness. “It's not important. Can you magic up some light or something? We need to get out of here.”

Kiel went silent.

“Kiel?” Bethany said. “Are you okay?”

“He took my magic,” Kiel said softly. “Just like he said he would. The Magister used the forget spell on me, and suddenly I can't remember any spells at all. I can't so much as make one finger glow.” He sighed deeply. “I think you might have been right, before. About the Magister, and how he'd use the Source of Magic to destroy Quanterium. I never thought he'd be capable of it, but look at what he's doing.”

Bethany's eyes widened. “So we're stuck in his dungeon with no magic and no books?”

“Not unless you count the story pages you were just trapped in. Can we go back there?”

Bethany's shoulders drooped. “No. It wouldn't do any good. So that's it, then. We're done.”

“Not quite. There is
one
thing we can still do.”

Bethany slapped the hay-covered floor in frustration. “What? Give up now before we're tossed into whatever horror novels Jonathan Porterhouse had hanging around his house?”

Kiel paused. “Okay, I guess that's two things. Horror books, or my idea. It's a bit simpler than yours, honestly, but yours sounds more exciting!”

Bethany sighed. “What's your idea, Kiel?”

She heard him rustling around on his side. “I may have forgotten my magic, but the Magister must have forgotten how I took care of myself before I met him.”

“Did it involve teleportation spells?”

“Ha, no. Not many of those on the streets of Magisteria. Remember the title of my first book?”

Kiel Gnomenfoot: Magic Thief  
? And then it hit her. “Wait, you're a magical thief. You can pick the locks and get us out!”

Something clicked from the general direction of Kiel's voice. “The word ‘thief' is really no nicer than ‘fictional,' but yes.
Hay's not the greatest lock pick in the world, but it'll do.”

“What took you so long, then? Why didn't you escape before?”

“And leave you behind?” Kiel snorted. “Trapped in a story filled with monsters and horribleness? Never.”

The image of her father and mother in the middle of Greek myths popped into Bethany's head. “That was it, a total nightmare,” she said quietly. Clicking noises sounded from somewhere in front of her as Kiel began to unlock her cell as well. If it hadn't been Kiel's voice, whose was it? It couldn't have been a dream. Could Jonathan Porterhouse have written the voice into the story to wake her up?

Hinges creaked just in front of her as Kiel opened her cell. “Ready? We can stay longer if you'd prefer, but the stench is starting to get to me.”

“Where are we going, then?” she said, not moving. “You don't have your magic left. I don't have any books. Even when we had
both
, the Magister completely destroyed us. Now we don't even have a chance.”

Kiel sighed, and she heard him sit down beside her. “I'm going to make a suggestion that you're not going to want to hear.”

“And what's that?” she said, barely even caring.

“You're supposedly half from this world, and half from mine, right?”

“Half-fictional.”

“I
really
don't like that word. But fine. If you're half-fictional, stop acting so realistic all the time and embrace it!
Be more fictional
, Bethany.”

Bethany froze in place, then began to laugh, harder and harder, until she laughed herself into a coughing fit. “Be more fictional?” she shouted. “
That's
your advice? When the Magister is about to toss all of humanity into stories that will probably kill them, and release every fictional character ever out into our world? Be more fictional?”

“Think about it. All this time you've been reacting to admittedly crazy things as they come. That's no way to win, Bethany. Why not try getting ahead of the craziness with a little nuttiness yourself? Embrace the impossible! Find the magic within! BE MORE FICTIONAL.”

“Get ahead of the craziness?” she shouted at him. “How?! This is all my fault.
That's
why I'm dealing with it as it comes! I can't go back and not make the mistakes I've made, so I'm trying to fix them.”

“And you're constantly failing, because you
can't
fix the past. It took me a year—or six books, I guess—to realize that. It's about time you did too if we're going to have any chance here.”

“So, what, I should stop thinking anything through and just do whatever comes to me at the time? How about I let all the fictional characters out first, so the Magister can't? Or shove people into books to save them?”

“Why not?”

“Because that's a horrible idea! It's the exact opposite of what we're trying to do! Putting people into books—”

And then she stopped.

“Uh-oh,” Kiel said, tapping her on the shoulder. “Did I break your mind?”

“Shut up,” she said, a plan forming in her head. “You might not be entirely one hundred percent wrong here. Maybe there's something to be said for taking a few stupid risks.”