by James Riley
“Because I’ve been waiting for this my entire life,” he told her.
“Owen,” she said, sighing. “What did I say about you being the chosen one, destined to save the world?”
He rolled his eyes. “That the real world is exciting enough, and that I can find plenty of fun things here.”
“Without . . .”
“Without being the long-lost son of a king or a secret wizard.”
“Or . . .”
“Mom, I have to go!”
“Or . . . ?”
“Or an orphan who grows up to fight crime.”
“That one was always a bit insulting, honestly,” his mom said. “I’ll look into this book. Get back to class.”
Owen put down the phone with a sigh. She could say those things all she wanted (or, well, make him say them), but it didn’t matter. He knew the truth, and right now the truth was that some author had made Owen Conners the hero of a book called Story Thieves, and that meant . . .
Well, that meant something amazing. Now all he had to do was find out what!
“Bethany,” he whispered out into the school hall. “If you’re actually out there, and if you’re really real, come get me, okay? That’s all I ask. Come get me and bring me into your world. Deal?”
No one answered, so Owen quietly whispered in a girl’s voice, “Deal. I can’t wait to meet you, Owen!”
“You too, Bethany,” he whispered back with a smile. “You too.”
Later that night Owen sat at the checkout counter of the library, trying to research this James Riley author. There was weirdly very little on the Internet about him, and even his author photo was apparently just an actor or something. That was odd . . . why bother? Who even looked at author photos?
“I’m going to start closing up,” Owen’s mother said, tapping him on the shoulder. “Start putting those books away.” She pointed at an enormous pile next to Owen, which he’d been ignoring all night.
He started to object, but he saw her face and sighed, then nodded. She smiled at him, and headed into her office, while Owen carefully picked up the pile of books and walked it toward the children’s section.
Carefully balancing the pile, Owen had walked it slowly to the back of the library, trying to make sure he didn’t trip over anything. The pile was so large, though, it wasn’t easy to see around.
“Owen Conners?” said a deep voice from just inches in front of him, and Owen shrieked, dropping every single book.
“You scared me—” Owen started to say, then lost his train of thought when he saw who he’d almost walked into. There, standing in front of him, was a boy in an overcoat, wearing a hunter’s hat and a mask with a question mark on it.
“WHOA!” Owen shouted. “You’re—”
“Doyle Holmes,” the boy said, extending his hand. “World’s greatest detective. And you’re clearly Owen.”
Owen’s mouth dropped. The incredibly famous detective Doyle Holmes knew his name! “I . . . I am!” he said, much too loudly, and took Doyle’s hand.
“Everything all right in there?” Owen’s mom yelled from her office.
“Tell her it’s fine,” Doyle said softly, taking a step backward. “What I have to say is for your ears only.”
“It’s fine, Mom!” Owen yelled, then whispered to Doyle, “I’m your biggest fan! I knew you were real. The Internet says you’re just an urban legend, but I knew you had to be real. Things couldn’t be as boring as they look!”
“I encourage those rumors to keep from being overrun by idiots,” Doyle said, sounding bored. “But apparently, now I need one’s help. I’m investigating someone, and you are sadly my only lead.”
“You want my help?” Owen said, his eyes widening in awesomeness. “Of course! Who are you investigating?”
“The man who wrote this,” Doyle said, and handed Owen a copy of Story Thieves.
This. Was. The. Greatest. Day. EVER.
CHAPTER 29
00:21:42
And that’s how I met Doyle,” Fowen finished, then sighed heavily. “Only, after he found out that I’d never heard of the Story Thieves author either, he left, and I never saw him again.”
Owen peeked above some bushes at the police cars still outside his house. Fowen’s house. He kept forgetting. Either way, how was Doyle able to track them this fast? Even the greatest detective in the world shouldn’t have been able to know where they’d be headed, right when they got there. How had he found them so quickly? Had someone seen them sneaking around in the backyards?
And seriously, even his fictional self was having flashbacks now? More importantly, why hadn’t Owen had one in a while?
“Why did you tell us what happened like it was a chapter in a book?” he asked Fowen quietly.
“Because obviously someone’s going to want to make a book about me someday,” Fowen told him. “I’ve been trying to decide where it should start, and that seemed like a good place, since that’s when my life finally got interesting. Your authors can’t write about everyone here, since it’d be too boring most of the time. But look what Doyle’s done. This is totally exciting enough for a book!”
“None of this helps us find Bethany,” Kiel said, his joy at finding out he was in a second series of books apparently wearing off. “We can’t keep wasting time. We’re down to twenty minutes!”
“Doyle must have given you some clue,” Fowen said. “He wouldn’t have been able to resist. It’s just how he thinks. Maybe I can help?”
“Aren’t you on the wrong side here?” Moira said. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, you seem absolutely delightful as a human being, and I’m sure we’re going to be best friends until we’re being chased and I end up tripping you so the cops get you instead of me. But you just said you were helping Doyle.”
“I didn’t realize he was trying to hurt you guys!” Fowen said. “Of course I’m on your side. Your side is my side.”
Moira laughed. “I still don’t at all get this. You guys are twins or something? No, don’t tell me, I like the mystery. Shh, no, don’t explain!”
“If he can help, then we’re all on the same side,” Kiel said, throwing an arm around Fowen’s shoulders.
Fowen glanced over at Owen and rolled his eyes.
“All Doyle said was that we didn’t even know where we were, which was true. We knew we were in the library—” He froze, realizing that Fowen didn’t know. “But we were confused about other things. We got that part. The only other thing he said was that he was doing it by the book. Whatever that means.” Owen sighed. Why did mysteries have to involve so many things to solve? No wonder Owen hated them.
“Hmm,” Fowen said, his eyes lighting up. “I just love mysteries. See? It’s all about noticing the things that don’t seem important. Like what Doyle said. It sounds almost like a riddle to me.”
“I love riddles!” Moira said. “Have you heard of the sphinx that ate people who answered his riddle wrong? That sphinx definitely had it all figured out.”
“What do you mean, a riddle?” Owen asked Fowen, trying to ignore Moira.
“Think about it,” Fowen said. “Doyle said he was doing things by the book, right? What if that didn’t mean doing things the official way? Maybe it was a clue to where Bethany actually is.”
Owen started to respond but instantly went quiet as he heard a familiar voice. “Check the surrounding areas,” Inspector Brown said from less than ten yards away. “Doyle said they were here not ten minutes ago, so they can’t have gotten far.”
Moira’s smile disappeared, and Kiel jumped to his feet.
“What are you doing?” Owen hissed at him.
“Running isn’t getting us anywhere,” Kiel said, forcing a grin. “It’s time to fight.”
“Fight the police?” Fowen said. “With what? You said you don’t have magic, and isn’t that all you can do?”
Kiel’s eyes widened, and he paused for a moment. “There’s more to me than magic,” he said quietly, then began silently moving thro
ugh the bushes toward Inspector Brown.
What was he doing? They needed to run! There was no time for this. Kiel was acting like he was still in a fantasy series instead of a mystery book. Mysteries involved thinking, not fighting!
“Over there!” a policeman yelled, and Owen pushed out of the bushes to see what was happening, only to fall backward a second later, as a police car almost ran him over.
“Get in!” Kiel yelled from the driver’s seat as police officers ran at them from every direction.
“Oh, you did not steal a police car!” Moira shouted, and tried to push Kiel out of the front seat. “I’m officially completely in love with you, Magical Koala!”
Kiel pushed her back to the passenger’s side as Owen considered what he was about to get into. This was probably the worst way possible to avoid getting caught.
But weren’t they basically caught already? He sighed, pulled open the back door, and jumped in. A moment later Fowen followed, his eyes gleaming with excitement.
Well, at least one of them was having fun.
“Hold on,” Kiel said, turning around to flash a real, honest smile at Owen. “I’m not entirely sure how to work this thing.”
Okay, maybe two of them, then.
As Kiel looked out the back window to reverse, the car jumped forward, taking out a mailbox first, then a stop sign, and narrowly missing two police officers, who had to leap out of the way.
“Stop!” someone shouted from behind them, and Owen heard the squeal of tires as two other cars raced after them.
“Never!” Moira shouted out the window, then slammed her foot over Kiel’s on the gas pedal.
And three of them. Fantastic.
The car’s acceleration sent Owen crashing against the backseat, then straight into Fowen as Kiel skidded around a corner, jumping the curb before crashing back onto the street.
“He’s going to get us caught for sure!” Fowen shouted at Owen as the two banged against each other when Kiel took another corner hard. “If not killed.”
“Kiel, we have to stop!” Owen said, trying to sit upright. “You’ve got the sirens on. They’re going to follow us everywhere!”
“Good point,” Kiel said, taking his eyes off the road as they spun out onto a major street with oncoming traffic. “How do I turn them off? We need to be stealthy.”
“Here, I’ve got it,” Moira said, reaching past Kiel to turn off not only the sirens but also the car’s headlights as a truck barreled toward them.
Maybe if this really is a book, then we won’t die, Owen thought to himself. Then he remembered how that had worked out for him in Kiel Gnomenfoot and the Source of Magic, and how his heart was now robotic, and decided that maybe it wasn’t a good idea to take the chance. Not to mention that this was potentially his book, and given his luck, he should probably be expecting bad things.
“Watch out!” Fowen shouted as the truck’s headlights blinded them, its horn blaring.
“Wow, someone has no idea how to drive,” Kiel said, turning the wheel hard. The car jerked almost ninety degrees to the right, and the truck passed within inches of them.
The two cop cars behind them weren’t so lucky. One managed to follow them, but the other went careening off the road and crashed right into a huge pile of trash.
“Good thing that garbage was there,” Fowen shouted from next to Owen.
It’s how things work in fiction, Owen wanted to say, but he just sighed in relief before falling straight into his fictional self as Kiel took another hard turn.
“Where should we go?” the boy magician said, turning back to Owen.
“Who cares?” Moira shouted, grabbing the wheel from Kiel momentarily, a wild look in her eyes as she aimed them toward an empty newsstand on the side of the road. Newspapers went flying, smacking into the windshield of the police car right behind them, which caused the car to turn widely and skid to a stop against some nearby parked cars.
“How’d you know that would happen?” Owen asked in awe.
Moira looked confused, then glanced behind them. “Oh, perfect! I’d just wanted to hit the newsstand.”
“Okay, we’re stopping right now !” Owen declared. “Kiel, pull over!”
Kiel slammed on the brakes, despite Moira’s loud groan, and Owen and Fowen both crashed against the seat in front of them. Through the pain, Owen tried hard to be thankful that at least they weren’t dead. “Everyone out!” Owen shouted, then went to push open his door, only there was no handle.
“Police car back doors don’t open from the inside,” Fowen told him. “It’s to keep criminals in.”
Criminals. That was appropriate. Even if they hadn’t set the library on fire, now they’d stolen a police car. Oh, and resisted arrest, broken out of a police station, and about a dozen other things. Could Owen really argue now with Inspector Brown that he was innocent?
Kiel opened Owen’s door from the outside, and Owen spilled out onto the sidewalk, then crawled away from the car before standing, Fowen just behind him. “We’re doing this all wrong,” Owen said as more sirens began sounding in the distance. “We keep running from place to place instead of thinking. That’s not how you win mysteries!”
“You don’t really win mysteries,” Fowen said.
“Fine, you solve them, or whatever,” Owen said, wondering if he was ever that annoying. “Which means investigating, and finding clues, then putting those together in the only way that makes sense.”
“Enough thinking!” Kiel said. “Sometimes it’s good to just take action.”
“That’s not the kind of story we’re in, Kiel,” Owen said. “We need to use our heads!”
“Think about the clue Doyle gave you!” Fowen said as the sirens got closer.
Owen sighed. “It’s not a clue. It doesn’t mean anything! By the book? All that means is . . .” And then he stopped. By the book. As in by the book.
It had been a clue all along, and Owen hadn’t even noticed. Doyle had practically told them exactly where Bethany was, and it took Fowen to point it out.
“I know where we’re going,” Owen said. “Come on!” And with that, he took off at a sprint.
Fowen ran after him, a big grin on his face, followed by Kiel and finally Moira, who looked longingly at the police car they left behind. “I’ll come back for you, my love!” she said. “Don’t forget me, or our all-too-short time together. You’ll always be in my heart!”
CHAPTER 30
00:10:34
Um, we’ve been here already,” Kiel said, staring at the still-smoking library. A second fire engine had arrived at some point, and even after this long, the firemen still had hoses turned on the smoldering building.
Owen almost couldn’t look at the library, even knowing it wasn’t exactly his version. Did that really make a difference? Sure, it was fictional, but this was still a place that people could visit and find doorways to other worlds. All those books, gone. What would his fictional mother be thinking right now? How much had her entire life been torn apart?
He turned to Fowen, not sure what to say. If his fictional self felt a fraction of the sadness and horror he felt, then Fowen was going to be devastated.
“I should have told you,” Owen told him.
But Fowen didn’t seem to hear him, and just stared at the library. “Doyle really is evil, and must be stopped,” he said quietly. “This is going to take a true hero, nothing less.”
Owen paused, then touched Fowen’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”
Fowen jumped as if he were surprised that Owen was there. “So what’s the plan?” Fowen asked, his eyes burning with excitement. “Where do you think Bethany is?”
“Aw, I hope she didn’t burn up,” Moira said, looking sadly at the remains of the library. “I’m so going to miss my gold. . . .”
Owen just stared at her for a moment, then sighed and glanced around, no idea what he was looking for. There had to be a reason that Doyle had left them in the library. And the “by the book” line seemed
almost like bragging, now that Owen realized what it meant. Or might mean.
It better mean what he hoped it did, because they were down to ten minutes.
But if Bethany had been in the library, it was way too late to find her now. She’d for sure have jumped back to the nonfictional world, which meant Owen and Kiel were stuck here in the fictional world, probably for good.
And not only did that make one too many Owens, but he, Kiel, and Moira were all wanted by the police. Not to mention he’d never see his mother again, or the outside of a jail cell, probably.
“She’s here,” Owen said, faking confidence, trying to be more like Kiel. Just to prove it, he glanced at the boy magician and gave him an awkward wink.
Kiel gave him an odd look back. “Are you sure?” he said. “I don’t feel my spell book anywhere close. If Doyle has them and he’s with her, then she’s not here, Owen.” He glanced around, his hands opening and closing anxiously.
“I’m not wrong,” Owen said, hoping he was telling the truth. “Doyle put us here to taunt us. We were here all along, and she was right under our noses! We just have to find her. Split up, but don’t let anyone see you.”
“I’ve got all the faith in you guys!” Moira said, leaning back on the ground and closing her eyes. “Let me know if you find her and need to get rid of the body or something.”
Owen glared at her, which she didn’t see, then set off with Kiel and Fowen, Kiel moving one way, Owen the other, with Fowen following Owen.
“I think you’re right,” Fowen said, his eyes on Owen. “She’s got to be here. That’s exactly how villains work, you know?”
“That’s the weird thing,” Owen said, picking his way slowly through the bushes around the side of the library, trying to stay out of the lights of the fire engines. “Since when is the great-something-grandson of Sherlock Holmes a villain? Why is he doing all of this? What could he possibly get out of locking me and Kiel away and making Bethany leave us behind? I think he wants something.”
Fowen shrugged. “All he ever said to me was that he was looking for Bethany’s father, and that your author—”
