CHAPTER 23
00:58:42
You really weren’t kidding about forgetting, were you,” Moira said, still looking confused. “But I’m not a Moriarty. My mom was, but I’m a Gonzalez. Come from a long line of law enforcement.” She glanced at Owen and Kiel. “Yeah, okay, that wasn’t going to hold up. I’m a Moriarty. So?”
“Hold on,” Owen said, squinting against the pain in his head. Remembering who Moira was helped, but that wasn’t the bigger deal. No, it was something in the memory.
Moira had heard of Doyle’s school. Which meant that their stories were taking place in the same world.
“Owen, we should get off the roof,” Kiel said.
“One second,” Owen said, putting a finger up. “Something’s very wrong.”
He sat down in the middle of the roof, covering his eyes with his palms. Wait. Okay. So if Moira and Doyle’s stories took place in the same world, did that mean that every story did? At least the ones that took place in a real-world setting?
That would explain how Doyle had shown up in other books. It wasn’t about switching stories so much as just finding a main character and getting in their way. But why hadn’t it happened before? Why hadn’t fictional characters ever crossed over into each other’s stories?
Except maybe they had, but since there was no reason for one main character to recognize another, why would they? If a boy with a lightning scar on his forehead happened to be sitting next to you and you’d never heard of Harry Potter, why would you even notice?
So was there an entire realistic planet, then, in the fictional world? Right down to the same cities and countries? Right down to the streets? To the buildings?
Right down to the libraries? And even to the people?
Oh, oh no.
“Kiel,” Owen whispered, dropping his hands from his eyes and looking up at the boy magician with horror. “I think I know where we are.”
“Look at you, you’re like a map!” Moira said. “I love it. But are we going to leave, or . . .”
Kiel bent down and helped Owen to his feet. Owen pulled him a few feet away and grabbed Kiel by the shirt. “I think we’re in the fictional world,” he said, his voice shaking.
Kiel frowned, looking around. “You realize we’re in your hometown, right? Did that memory hit you too hard?” He felt around Owen’s head. “You seem okay, but maybe it’s, like, internal damage.”
“No, I’m fine,” Owen hissed. “But it all makes sense. Listen.” He raised his voice. “Moira, did the three of us and our friend Bethany ever all hold hands and, you know, jump? And then you ended up here?”
“Unless that’s a funny way of saying ‘I stole a car and drove here,’ then probably not,” Moira said. “Can I use that though? I jumped a car to get here. I like it!”
Kiel’s eyes widened. “How could she have gotten here, then? Maybe she found a way out, like Bethany’s father?”
“This is the fictional world,” Owen said. “Listen to me. We’ve jumped into stories that take place in a world exactly like ours, right? Well, they all had to exist somewhere, and apparently it’s here. Together, in one place. That’s how Moira had heard of the Baker Street School.” Again to Moira, he said, “And how did you track us down?”
“I watched the school, like you paid me to do,” Moira said with a shrug. “You two and that girl came out all tied up, and they threw you in a truck. I followed it to that library, which then blew up. I saw you two get out, but not the girl.” She made a face. “Hope they left her in the truck, actually. That pulled away a little bit after dropping you off.”
Kiel almost collapsed, but Owen caught him. “No, she wasn’t in the library!” he said. “Remember, Doyle said she would disappear in . . . less than an hour from now. She couldn’t have died.”
“Not unless he was lying,” Kiel said, his eyes squeezed shut. “If she’s hurt, Owen, I swear to you that Doyle will—”
“We’ll find her,” Owen told him. “And that’s good news. We know she’s not at the school anymore, so she’s probably somewhere in town. But that explains everything, Kiel. Why there’s a second me still in his bed at my house, why the police acted like they were in a movie, even why . . .” But he stopped. Why was there no record of Bethany? If there was an Owen, why no Bethany?
Unless there was a fictional Owen because there was a nonfictional Owen. The worlds must be connected somehow? And maybe there was only one Bethany, because she was from both?
It didn’t matter. What mattered is that Owen now understood. Everything made more sense. They were still in a book! That’s how Doyle was here, that’s how the police had heard of him, and that’s why they believed everything he said when Doyle framed them.
“If we’re in the fictional world, then why is Bethany trapped?” Kiel said, and this time Owen looked at him in confusion.
“Seriously, my crazy co-caper-comrades, we’re going to get caught up here if we stay much longer,” Moira said, not looking quite as excited as she usually did. “And we really need to talk about the rest of my gold.”
“One second,” Owen told her, then turned back to Kiel. “I don’t know . . . it doesn’t make sense. He said that we’d never see her again, but if she jumped out, she could just come back into the book and find us.”
“Except we’re not exactly anywhere close to Doyle’s story anymore, are we?” Kiel said.
Owen paused, then looked around, his entire body going ice cold. They weren’t, were they? And that meant if Bethany jumped out, she might never find them again. She could search Doyle’s story for years, and never think to look in her own hometown. She’d probably never even considered that it might be in the book.
Which meant that it wasn’t Bethany who needed rescuing. They were the ones who needed to be rescued by her, before she jumped back out of the book. Otherwise they’d be stuck in this book, maybe forever. After all, she hadn’t been able to find her father. Even if she used Kiel’s finder spell and it pointed to The Baker Street School for Irregular Children, there was a whole world for her to look through before she found them.
“We need to find her,” Owen said. “She’s going to be fine—we’re the ones who might never go home!”
Kiel nodded, and together they turned back to Moira, who was looking less and less thrilled as the minutes passed. “We need your help,” Owen told her.
“I think we already covered that,” she said, smiling just slightly. “That’s why I’m asking for my money, remember? I rescued you guys. You asked for protection, and I protected.”
“We paid you to protect us all,” Kiel pointed out. “We never did find Bethany.”
Moira narrowed her eyes and didn’t say anything, but she was no longer smiling. Suddenly Owen remembered some of the crimes she’d committed, and the happy, excited girl seemed very far away. “We’ll pay you double,” Owen said quickly. “Triple! Just help us find Bethany, and you can have as much gold as you can carry.”
Instantly the smile returned, bigger than ever. “Oh, these arms are made for carrying!” she shouted. “I’m in! Yay! Let’s go find her. Where is she?”
Kiel and Owen looked at each other. “No idea,” Owen said. “But you said you’d worked with people here before. Do you know of anyone in town who we could go to for information?” Detectives always got clues from criminal informants, didn’t they? Sounded right, anyway.
Moira sighed. “There’s a local crime family, they might know something. But they’re not exactly friends with my family. Specifically, they’ve tried to kill my mother a bunch of times. So not, like, best-best friends.”
“Sounds like they’re our only option,” Kiel said, sounding a bit more excited himself.
“Whoa, wait a second,” Owen said. “They’re not our only option. There’s a world of possibilities out there!”
“Where is this crime family?” Kiel asked.
Moira shrugged. “Not too far. Sweet, let’s go!” She stopped abruptly and gave them both a serious look
. “But if I say run, you run, got it? Because that might be our only chance to escape.” She stared at them for a moment, then broke out laughing. “I’m just kidding, once we go in, there’ll be no escape. Let’s do it! ”
CHAPTER 24
00:53:01
With the chains hanging over her shoulder, Bethany carefully climbed the metal shelves, which were over half-submerged. Her chair had gone under a few minutes ago, and though she’d tried standing on the back of it, the water moved too much to stand securely.
And falling meant going under, then having to pull the chains back to the surface with her. Given their weight, that was quickly becoming impossible, as cold and tired as she was.
The shelves were a thin metal and not too stable themselves, but she’d pushed the chair over for some extra support. And it’s not like she had any choice now. More importantly, the shelves could hold her chains, and she wouldn’t have to hold them and tread water as the water filled the room.
Of course, once the water rose three or four feet higher than the top of the shelves, she was going to be holding the chains no matter what. The ceiling was easily fifteen feet high, which was seven or eight feet taller than the shelves. And that meant she was going to hold the chains or drown, or . . .
Or jump out, and abandon Kiel and Owen. Just like she had her father. Not to mention that Doyle’s cameras would capture it all, and potentially give Doyle . . . what? What could he possibly do with that? It was her power! Could the world’s greatest detective really learn how to jump between the fictional and nonfictional worlds just by closely watching her do it?
But what if he could?
She’d stay until the very last moment. The very last.
“How’s the water?” said a voice from above her. Bethany gasped in surprise, then climbed as best she could to the top of the shelves, where she found a computer tablet displaying a mask she recognized, even if the voice was a bit hard to hear over the noise of the water.
“They’re going to find me!” Bethany shouted at the tablet. “And after they do, we’re going to find you. And then—”
“You’re quite mistaken, Ms. Sanderson,” Doyle said. “As we speak, Kiel and Owen are locked away safely. No, you have only one way out.”
No. “If I jump, I’ll be back, Doyle,” she said, trying to make herself sound intimidating despite her teeth chattering from the cold water. “I’ll find them, no matter where you hide them!”
“Like you found your father?” Doyle asked.
Bethany’s entire body burned with anger, and she desperately wanted to toss the tablet into the water, but she was half afraid the movement would knock over the shelves, dropping her into the water too.
“I won’t leave them,” she said, trying to calm herself down.
“Then you’ll die,” Doyle said. “And we’ll all lose. Well, you more than me, of course.”
She’d never hated anyone so much in her life. Not even the Magister. But this guy was a Holmes, wasn’t he? Wasn’t there some way to reason with him? “If I jump out, and you learn whatever it is you’re trying to get from me, will you give me back my friends?”
“Of course not,” Doyle said. “Why would I do such a thing? Contrary to your bravado, you’ll soon leave, and I’ll get exactly what I want without rewarding you for having humiliated my family.”
Bethany started to say something, only to yell in surprise as her chains slid off the shelves, yanking her off as well. Their weight dragged her down below the surface of the water, all the way to the floor.
Her mouth still open as she plunged in, Bethany swallowed water and struggled to kick back up to the surface. The chains held her just below it, though, and she couldn’t get her mouth high enough to breathe.
Finally, she dove to the bottom and gathered up all the chains in her arms, then dropped them onto the seat of the chair. Then she climbed up the chair and shot back up to the surface just as everything began to go dark.
She felt air hit her face and coughed up water, then immediately sucked in as much oxygen as she could get, barely an inch above water.
“That looked dangerous,” she heard Doyle say from the tablet, still on top of the shelves. “I really would jump out, if I were you. But it’s your choice. Good luck!”
And with that, the tablet went silent, leaving Bethany gasping for air and wishing she’d left Owen and Kiel behind in the first place, like she’d intended.
MISSING CHAPTER 8
Yesterday . . .
Bethany entered the library an hour ahead of the time she was supposed to meet Owen and Kiel, using the key that Owen had given her. The entire place was dark except for emergency lighting, but she knew where Owen kept the books they planned on jumping into, and she quickly found the one she wanted.
The Baker Street School for Irregular Children.
If she wanted to learn what Doyle had found out about her father, it’d have to be now, before Owen and Kiel arrived and the three went in to investigate Doyle. There was no more time to procrastinate, no more time to worry either way. He’d either found her dad or he hadn’t. She took a deep breath, carried the book into Owen’s mother’s office, then slipped into the last page.
The Baker Street School itself was just as intimidating now as it had been the last time. Thunder cracked above and lightning lit the black iron gates as she hit the intercom button, glad that it at least hadn’t started raining.
“Ms. Sanderson,” said a voice with an English accent. “He’s been expecting you.”
Bethany shuddered as the gates squeaked open loudly. Why are you doing this? Just jump out now and come back with Kiel and Owen. Kiel can take this guy down with magic, and then you can find out what Doyle knows safely.
But then Owen and Kiel would know what she’d done. After everything she’d told them since day one about following the rules, never speaking to main characters, never messing up stories, how could she possibly face them now if they found out?
Bethany pushed through the gates and walked quickly through the courtyard, trying to shut down the loud, annoying part of her brain that kept telling her to jump out and come back with her friends. Sometimes you had to do something wrong to make things right. That’s just the way it was. Wasn’t it?
It’d all be worth it in the end, when she was hugging her father. It would. It had to be.
The same enormous bald guard from the last time waited for her at the entrance, holding one of the gigantic wooden doors open for her. “Right this way,” the guard said, and led her through the candlelit entry hall and up the double staircase at the back. She passed by classrooms filled with children, but she barely noticed them as she went. All she could think about was what Doyle might have found.
The guard led her to the doors labeled HEADMASTER’S OFFICE again and knocked gently.
“Let her in,” said a voice, and the guard opened the door, waving formally for her to enter. As she did, the guard closed the door softly behind her.
And then she heard the lock turn.
That hadn’t happened last time.
This was bad. She shouldn’t have come alone. This was way too dangerous. Doyle was obviously up to something, if he was visiting other stories somehow, and she shouldn’t be here, not without Kiel and his magic. Even having Owen here would have been more of a comfort than standing alone, shivering in the flickering candlelight.
Just like last time, the tall leather chair at the enormous wooden desk was turned to face away from the door. This time, however, the monitors showed the empty cellblocks, as all the students were in class. In fact, it looked like only one of the cells even had a light on.
“I expected you sooner,” said a voice from the other side of the chair. Just as it had last time, the chair slowly twisted around, revealing Doyle in his mask and Sherlock Holmes hat and coat, his fingers steepled in front of him.
“I’ve been busy,” Bethany said, trying not to sound nervous and failing completely.
“I suppose you?
??d like to know what I found concerning your father’s whereabouts?” Doyle asked.
Bethany started to speak, but her mouth was so dry, she could barely move her tongue. She swallowed hard, then again, and finally was able to form a word. “Yes.”
Doyle stood up from the chair, then slowly walked around to the front of the desk and leaned back against it, his arms crossed behind him, not saying a word. A moment passed, then another, and Bethany could feel sweat dripping down her neck, despite the room being chilly and the lack of fire in the fireplace.
“We haven’t discussed the matter of payment,” Doyle said finally.
Bethany let out a huge breath, wiping her hands on her pants. “Of course,” she said. “I can pay you however you’d like. Would gold be okay?” She’d given some to a Moriarty now, after all. Why not a Holmes?
Doyle, though, slowly shook his head. “It will not be okay, actually. I require something more rare.”
“What?” Bethany asked, getting a bit impatient. Were they really going to haggle over the price? “Diamonds? Platinum? What do you want?”
“I want books,” Doyle said simply.
Books? Bethany’s mind began screaming at her to jump out, to come back with Kiel and Owen. “What books?”
Doyle reached behind him and took a book off his desk. “All of the books in your friend Owen’s library.”
It took Bethany a second to accept that she’d really heard what she thought she had. “Whose library?” she whispered.
“If you want to find your father,” Doyle said, stepping closer to her with the book in his hands, “then you will get me a digital copy of every single book in Owen’s library. You can ignore the nonfiction. That means nothing to me. I want the fiction.”
“Who . . . who’s Owen?” Bethany said, stepping back away from Doyle. “I don’t know anyone by that name.”
“Oh, but you do,” Doyle said, and he held the book in his hand out to her.
Bethany shook her head, taking another step back, only to run into the door. Jump! her mind shouted. Jump now! But if she did, Doyle would see it all.