Story Thieves (4 page)

Bethany stared at him, her mouth hanging open. He wanted to help her? “No.
No.
It's way too risky. I'm sorry, that was actually . . . nice of you. But no.” She stood up and turned to leave, then paused and pushed the gobstopper over to him before walking straight out of the library.

As soon as she passed through the sliding doors, she stopped and turned around. Owen had picked up the candy and was staring at it sadly, like it was all that was left of his Christmas after the Grinch came through.

Ugh. UGH! He'd been trying to do something nice. Obviously, he wanted to visit the book too, just for fun, but besides that, he'd been thinking about
her
. And this is how she treated him for it?

But there was no way she could do that. It was just asking for trouble. She couldn't!

Bethany fell back against the library wall. She hadn't even checked out a new book to search for her father. But there was no going back in now, not with Owen still there. Great. Was she going to have to avoid the library all the time now?

At least she still had some books back home. Okay, she'd already looked for her dad in them, but sometimes you just needed a
Little Prince
night, sitting alone on his planet while he was down on Earth, talking to the pilot.

She gave Owen one last look through the library doors, then tried to forget this whole night ever happened as she set off home.

Ten minutes later, turning the key in her front door, she heard the TV and knew her mother was home. It sounded like the news was on, but not about anything important, just something about how some first issue of a comic book had sold for hundreds of thousands of dollars since no one could find any other issues in the series anymore. Hugely important news, obviously.

But her mom being home early meant something was wrong. Something wrong like maybe Owen had said something he shouldn't have?

“Mom?” Bethany said in a voice even quieter than she meant to use.

She heard her mother sniff loudly, and the TV sound disappeared. “Bethany?” her mom said, and sniffed again. “Is everything okay? Why are you late?”

“Just, uh, stayed after school to do some homework with someone from my class,” Bethany said. “Why are
you
home?”

Her mother appeared in the hallway, a smile on her face despite her red eyes. “Oh, I just felt a little sick. It's going away, though.”

Relief flooded through Bethany, and she gave her mother a
hug. “Want me to make you some soup or something?”

“Oh, that's ridiculous. I'm fine,” her mother said, sniffing again. “See? Probably just a cold.”

Bethany nodded. It wasn't a cold. Her mother only got this way when something reminded her of Bethany's father.

It could have been the color of Bethany's hair, the same bronze color that her father had—at least that was the color her father had in Bethany's memory of him. Sometimes it was just a word or a random memory. Bethany never knew exactly what set her mother off, but it always came down to her mother sitting in front of a fire, even in the middle of summer, and staring into an old hand mirror that had been a gift from her father. Then her mom would go to bed, and the mirror would disappear, never to be seen again until the next time this happened.

“Are you hungry, Beth?” her mother asked.

“No, I had a snack at school. I'm good for now,” Bethany told her. “You go sit down. You still sound sick. I'll make you something.”

Her mother gave her a sad smile, then nodded. “You're far too sweet, you know. I'm so proud of you, of the person you're growing up to be, you know that?”

Bethany returned the smile, but inwardly wanted to groan. What would her mother say if she knew Bethany was reading every single night? Breaking the one rule her mother ever really cared about? And would probably be in a book right now if it meant not having to watch her mother cry?

An hour later her mother had a fire going and was sitting with her hand mirror on her lap, staring at the flames. Bethany kissed her forehead, then quietly went upstairs to her room and closed the door behind her.

She pulled a copy of
Goodnight Moon
out from underneath her bed and ran her fingers over the cover. Years and years ago her father had walked with her through the book's rooms, narrating the story by heart to her as they went. It was her first memory of him, and her favorite one.

All this time, she'd wondered where her father had gone, and now she had a way to find him.

But what if he hadn't come back because . . . because he didn't want to?

She stuffed the book back beneath her bed, pulled
The Little Prince
out from a different spot, then jumped in to spend the rest of the night alone with the stars.

O
wen stared at Bethany across the cafeteria, an empty feeling in his stomach. It wasn't entirely a trick, honestly. There
was
a spell in the Magister's spell book that might help her find her father. And after learning that Bethany's father was missing, Owen really did want to help.

It just felt wrong, though, to use that as an excuse to get him into the book. Even if all he wanted to do was perform an amazing, heroic, lifesaving, awesome act of goodness. Even if this was clearly the thing he'd been meant to do with his life, saving the Magister.

Maybe he should just tell her the truth? He knew that Bethany would never go for it, since he'd be changing the story, and that seemed to freak her out more than almost anything—anything other than learning magic, at least. But then he wouldn't feel so guilty, and besides, what did he have to lose, since she wasn't taking him anyway?

Owen glanced over at her, at her long reddish-brown hair, and wondered who her father might actually be. Was it someone famous, like Sherlock Holmes? James Bond? He came from books too, didn't he? Or maybe someone like Gandalf? The wizard seemed kind of old to be someone's father, though. Grandfather, sure, but father, maybe not.

Or maybe it was some character from one of those romantic books that people were always checking out, but trying to hide the covers from Owen at the counter like they were embarrassed. That seemed like a possibility, considering her mother had fallen in love with her father by reading about him. Who did that? Who fell in love with a character in a book?

Whoever Bethany's father was, maybe Owen could still help. Not by jumping into the books with her, but by reading and keeping an eye out.
That
was what he should do. Tell her the truth, that he really wanted to go into
Kiel Gnomenfoot and the End of Everything
to save the Magister, then say how sorry he was and offer to help her find her father to make up for it.

He stood up to do just that, only to notice that Bethany had disappeared from the cafeteria. But she had left something at her table. The book she'd been reading.

He walked over, making sure no one was watching him too suspiciously, then grabbed the book.

Kiel Gnomenfoot: Magic Thief.
The first book in the series.

And stuck inside like a bookmark was a note:

I'm in.

—Bethany

What?
She was in? Owen's eyes widened and he began to shake. He quickly sat down so no one would see his trembling, but he couldn't stop the grinning. It felt like the smile was bigger than his face, but he didn't even care.

THEY WERE GOING TO SAVE THE MAGISTER! Everyone in this cafeteria, everyone in cafeterias all over the world would read the book, see Owen's name, and watch him save Kiel's magic teacher.

Would they throw him parties? Come up to him all shyly to ask for his autograph? Start a national holiday for his birthday, and no mail would be delivered because too many postal workers had to celebrate everything about Owen Conners?

Or would something
really
amazing happen, like he and Kiel would become best friends, and Kiel would ask him for his
help now that Dr. Verity was taken care of? “Help with what?” Owen would ask. “Something mind-blowing,” Kiel would say, and wink.

Kiel always winked. That was so Kiel. Especially with his best friends.

A small, tiny, miniscule part of Owen decided to be a downer and reminded the rest of him that Bethany knew none of this and was going to be extremely not happy when she found out. That same part suggested that he still apologize and tell her the truth.

And the rest of Owen knew that the small part was right. He should.
He should.

On the other hand, was an apology worth letting a great man like the Magister die? Of course not.

Owen crumpled Bethany's note up, tossed it into the trash, then left the cafeteria to make some plans. Plans to take down a mad scientist, save a master magician, and become a hero to the entire world.

O
wen's bedroom was where books went to die, Bethany realized. Every shelf in the room overflowed with books without covers or with splitting spines, and even, every so often, just collections of pages held together with rubber bands.

She gestured toward the books, raising an eyebrow, and Owen turned red. “Uh, my mom brings them home,” he said, sitting down on the floor with
Kiel Gnomenfoot and the End of Everything
in front of him. “Whenever a library book gets too beat-up to lend out anymore, she gives it to me.”

“So you live in a book graveyard,” Bethany said, sitting down across from him.

Owen's eyes widened. “Ooooh, that'd make a fun story! Have you ever been to a graveyard in a book? Like
Pet Sematary
or something?”

“No horror books,”
Bethany said quickly. “That's rule number
one! Horror is a good way to get yourself killed. And speaking of rules, let's go over them while we can still back out of this.”

“Bring 'em on!” Owen said a bit too loudly.

Bethany shushed him, despite the fact that no one was home. Owen's mother was still at the library, so they weren't exactly going to be caught doing anything they shouldn't be. Still, Bethany half believed her own mother would pop in and yell “AHA!” at any moment, so the more quiet they could be, the better she'd feel.

“There are five rules total,” she whispered, giving Owen an annoyed look. “Rule number one: MAKE NO NOISE. Either here or in the book. Quiet is key.”

“Got it,” Owen mouthed silently.

She rolled her eyes. “Rule number two: NO TALKING TO CHARACTERS. No matter what. Talk to a main character, you might show up in the book, and that's the absolute last thing we want to happen. Even if it doesn't change the story, everyone who ever read the book would see our names.
That cannot happen
.”

Owen nodded, but his eyes lit up with excitement in a way that fundamentally disturbed Bethany, so she quickly continued. “That brings us to rule number three: WE DO NOT CHANGE THE STORY. No way, no how. If we touch something,
it goes back exactly the way we left it. This is maybe the most important rule, except that
all
the rules are the most important. Do you understand?”

“Sure, but you've eaten chocolate and taken gobstoppers. How did that not change the story?”

“Because they'd never notice a little chocolate missing from a chocolate river, or a gobstopper that I took from the gobstopper machine while the Oompa-Loompas were teaching the kids a lesson,” Bethany said, feeling a little guilty since she really shouldn't have done either thing. But that had been a really bad day. “Anyway, these are
my
rules for
you
. If you want to come, you follow them. Got it?”

“Got it,” Owen said, nodding again.

She gave him a suspicious glance, then grabbed the book. “Okay. Are we ready?”

“What about the last two rules?”

Bethany wrinkled her nose. “I really only had three. So the last two are LISTEN TO ME AT ALL TIMES and DON'T DO ANYTHING STUPID. That work?”

“I'll do my best on the last one,” he said, and laughed.

Bethany stared at him without cracking a smile, and he slowly stopped laughing.

“Now, you've got a chapter where Kiel and his teacher aren't around?” Bethany asked him.

Owen reached over and opened
Kiel Gnomenfoot and the End of Everything
to a marked page. “Yup, the spell book is just sitting out. Kiel's off beyond the edge of the universe, where he just found the Sixth Key, but he hasn't gotten back to existence yet. The Magister is distracted, casting a spell to locate the Seventh Key. It's the perfect time to sneak in and learn the location spell. No one will ever know.”

Bethany glanced at the page.

It wasn't easy sifting through the past, especially for things deliberately mislaid. The Magister carefully wove one thousand and eleven spells together into an elaborate tapestry, threading them in and out of one another. Some showed his life, or his children's, his children's children's, or the school he once ran, or even old enemies.

Other spells went back further, to the very beginning. The Seventh Key hadn't been seen since the locking of the Source inside the Vault of Containment.
To find the key meant finding the location of those who had been present, which meant only two: the original president of Quanterium, Favora Bunsen, and a figure lost to history: the very first magic-user.

The spells pushed hard against the curtains of time, straining to part them. But something kept him out. Something from the very beginning.

He banged his fist down. There was no time left! Dr. Verity had an infinite army from a multitude of alternate dimensions ready to attack Magisteria, and citizens were being rounded up and jailed for even owning spell books, let alone using the now-illegal magic. And if the hints Kiel had heard were true, the entire planet might be in even more danger than they'd thought.