by James Riley
“This way,” Kiel said from one side.
“Uh-uh,” the girl said, pushing Owen out of her way to climb out as well. “That way gets us caught, MK. This way!”
Owen looked down at the police cars below and the flashing red fire-alarm lights. They were so tiny, and so far away, it made them look almost adorable.
Less adorable was Inspector Brown, who stepped outside, looking in all directions, before turning around and glancing up. Then he smiled like he’d just seen through a magic trick or something.
And that’s when another memory hit, which was just terrible timing at that exact mome—
MISSING CHAPTER 5
Yesterday . . .
Bethany!” her mom shouted from downstairs. “Owen and Kiel are here.”
Bethany looked up at her bedroom door from where she was lying on the floor, her feet up on her bed. What were they doing here? She hadn’t talked to them since, well, the finding spell night. And with what she’d done since . . .
The last thing she wanted to do was face either one of them.
“Tell them I’m busy!” she yelled down, then covered her head with a pillow. They probably wanted to check on her or something, and their sweetness made it even worse that she couldn’t face them.
Her bedroom door opened, and Bethany tore the pillow off her face to find her mother staring down at her. “You realize I’m not your butler, right?” her mother said. “Come on in, boys.”
Bethany gave her mom an annoyed look, and her mother threw her one right back as Owen and Kiel stepped into her bedroom. “Don’t work too hard on that homework project,” her mom said as she left, leaving the door open.
“We won’t,” Owen said, then began to blush. “I mean, we will!”
“Looking lovely as usual, Mrs. Sanderson,” Kiel said, waving as her mom left.
“What are you doing here?” Bethany hissed at them as quietly as she could. “I told you guys I didn’t want to talk.”
“I know,” Owen said, taking some books out of his bag. “But something came up that couldn’t wait. Something big.”
“What, a real homework project?” Bethany asked, looking at the papers in his hand.
Owen shook his head and handed her the papers. She glared at him, then flipped through them in annoyance. They were all newspaper articles that he’d printed out.
Sherlock Holmes Takes Over the Literary Scene.
The Game Is Afoot: Sherlock Crossovers the New Big Thing?
Sherlock—
She tossed the papers back at Owen, and he fumbled them all, dropping them. “I already said no to jumping into Sherlock Holmes,” Bethany told them, shaking her head. “And I told you guys. We’re done!”
“Did you read them?” Owen said. “Look.” He picked up the Crossovers article. “Sherlock Holmes is showing up everywhere right now. Well, at least his great-great-great-something-grandson. Doyle Holmes is appearing in other people’s series, Bethany, and the authors say they didn’t even know it was happening. Some are even suing their publishers. People think it’s one big publicity stunt.”
Bethany’s heart almost stopped when Owen said the name Doyle Holmes. “Okay,” she said, taking the article and swallowing hard as she pretended to skim it. “So it probably is just a publicity thing for this Doyle Holmes book.”
No, no, no, no. What was Doyle doing?
“Have you ever heard of fictional characters crossing over into other series?” Owen asked her.
Every mention of a book in the article made her feel worse. The Orphan Bunch books, really?! “How is this my problem?” Bethany said, not looking Owen in the eye. “We didn’t do it, right?”
“Not yet!” Kiel said, giving her a grin.
Bethany had to swallow hard to keep from throwing up.
Owen pulled a book out of his backpack and handed it to her. The Baker Street School for Irregular Children. The same one she’d checked out two weeks ago. “This is the book Doyle Holmes comes from,” he told her. “I think we should go in and investigate. You know, be detectives, kind of.”
“Detectives that take this kid down,” Kiel said, juggling a wand on her bed. “It’s way too long since I’ve had a good fight. I’m starting to get worried I’m not as impressive as I used to be.”
“No fights,” Bethany told him, ripping the book from Owen’s hands. This was the exact same copy she’d used. If Owen had looked in the computer, he could have seen her name listed as checking it out.
“Maybe we can help,” Owen said quietly to her. “Take a quick look and see if it is just a publicity thing, or if there’s a fictional character who’s figured out how to cross into other stories. If it’s the second one, don’t you think we should do something about it?”
“Why?” Bethany said, realizing how whiny her voice sounded, even to her. “We’re not the story police, Owen. We don’t have to fix every problem.” In her head, she begged Owen to just let it go, leave her alone, so that he and Kiel wouldn’t find out what she’d done.
“I vote we’re not the anything police,” Kiel said. “Let’s be thieves. That’s a lot more fun.”
“It’s up to us because who else can fix it?” Owen said. “I know it’s a lot to take in, but I’ll handle it all. I’ll read up on Doyle today, and have a plan ready for tonight. I’ll take care of everything. You just have to jump us in and out.”
“I’ll handle the fighting,” Kiel said, back to juggling. “Hopefully there are monsters. Oooh, or dragons! I miss dragons.”
“We can’t do this,” Bethany said, almost pleading with them. “This goes against all the rules.” The same rules that she’d broken. “It’ll be interfering with a story.” A story that she’d already completely interfered with. “You know I can’t do this.”
“This isn’t about saving the Magister this time, Bethany,” Owen said. “I promise. I’m being completely up front. I just want us to take a look and make sure it’s not something horrible and world-ending. Think what would happen if a character like that got out into other stories. He’s the world’s greatest detective—”
“I thought that was the Bat guy you like,” Kiel said.
“And there’s no end to the stories he could ruin,” Owen finished, then nodded at Kiel. “You’re right, my mistake. Batman is the world’s greatest detective. Sherlock Holmes was the world’s greatest Victorian detective. Huge difference.”
“Thank you,” Kiel said, nodding at him.
They weren’t going to let this go, and a part of Bethany realized they were right not to. It did look really bad, honestly. The only thing was, she knew something they didn’t.
She knew that it was all her fault.
“I’ll go alone,” she told Owen, trying not to hyperventilate. “There, satisfied? I’ll check it out and let you know what I find.”
“Never!” Kiel shouted, and jumped up from the bed. “One for all and whatever else that musketeer guy told us. You need our help.”
“Don’t worry, I’m going to be useful too,” Owen said, and his hopefulness almost broke her heart. “I’ve totally got a plan. I’ve even got a backup plan.” He gave her a guilty look. “It’s a bit weird, but when you go up against a Sherlock Holmes character, it doesn’t hurt to have a little help on your side.”
“Just let me just do this,” Bethany said, not sure what else to say. “Please?”
“Nope,” Kiel said, hugging them both. “We’re in this together, until the dragons come, at which point I call the first two. No, first three!”
Owen smiled nervously at her, and Bethany sighed. “All right. Tonight at the library. But you guys have to do exactly what I say.”
“Deal,” Owen said.
“Deal!” Kiel said. “There’s no way this can possibly go wrong!”
CHAPTER 21
01:04:23
Bethany sat shivering on the back of the chair, her chains curled up on the seat beneath her as the water slowly rose up toward her neck. Soon she was going to have to move, a
nd there weren’t that many more places to go. The shelves nearby rose another few feet higher than the chair did, but even they didn’t get close to the ceiling.
Not only that, the water seemed to be flowing in faster now, as if it’d doubled at some point. Perfect.
As the water rocked her back and forth, all she could think about was the day before, when Kiel and Owen had come to her with The Baker Street School for Irregular Children. Why hadn’t she just called it off? Doyle could do whatever he wanted, as far as she was concerned. And then none of them would be in this mess.
Except she wouldn’t have let it go, because it was already too late by then. She’d have gone back into the book anyway, and been caught. Though at least then, it’d have just been her.
Jump, part of herself said. You’re going to by the end anyway. Kiel and Owen are never going to find you. Why put yourself through this?
Because she deserved it.
You don’t deserve this. You did the only thing you could to find Dad.
And look what had happened.
MISSING CHAPTER 6
Two weeks ago . . .
Mr. Holmes will see you now,” said a giant bald man wearing a white shirt printed with the words THE BAKER STREET SCHOOL. Despite having arms thicker than her head, his heavy English accent somehow made her feel a bit more comfortable as he held open a thick wooden door. Bethany nodded at him, then stepped inside the headmaster’s office.
The entire room was covered in wood and leather. Chairs so deep you could dive into them sat in front of a roaring fireplace, which was topped with a violin hanging above the mantle. A pistol in a glass case labeled THIRD ACT also sat on the mantle, probably some sort of trophy from a previous case. An enormous desk filled the far part of the room, and a tall leather chair was currently turned around, facing a wall of monitors behind it.
Each of the monitors showed either a classroom or what looked like a cellblock, and the images switched so fast that Bethany could barely keep up.
“Yes?” said a voice from behind the chair’s tall back. “State your business. I have little enough time as it is.”
Bethany frowned. Maybe this hadn’t been a good idea. She could have at least found a nicer detective. Still, a Holmes was a Holmes, and there was no one better. Except maybe Batman, but that was something else entirely. “I came to hire you to find a missing person,” she said quietly.
“Obviously,” said the voice, and the chair swiveled around, revealing a boy wearing a question-mark mask, a Sherlock Holmes hat, and a big brown overcoat. Bethany grimaced in spite of herself. Seriously, a question-mark mask? Who wore that?
Doyle Holmes snapped his fingers, not even looking up from his desk. “Give me whatever information you have.”
Bethany stepped closer and laid down a folder full of photos on the table, most from before she was born, a few from after. Doyle ignored the folder, instead glancing up at her.
“I’ve seen you before,” he said quietly. “But not like this. You looked different somehow. And there’s something very off about you.”
“I’m not from around here,” Bethany said, taking a step back nervously. This was already breaking all of her rules, every single one, about not interacting with fictional characters, let alone the main ones. But this was the end of Doyle’s only book, right? It’s not like there’d be any more to come. And things seemed to have gone okay with EarthGirl, so maybe it’d all be fine!
But honestly? Even if this messed up Doyle’s entire story, she was just beyond caring. If he helped find her dad, it’d all be worth it. Be more fictional, Kiel had said. Well, here she was, throwing out all of her responsible rules and careful plans.
And if even after all this, she still couldn’t find her father . . . no. She wouldn’t even think about that. This boy would find him. He was a Holmes.
Doyle stared at her for another moment, then opened the file and flipped through the pictures before pushing them aside and turning back to her. “Missing father. Mother has same odd quality that you do, something off about her, as well. Just more so. Something I’ve never seen before.” He glanced up at Bethany. “And that’s not something I say lightly.”
“I’ve heard you’re very good at what you do,” she said, trying to change the subject. “Do you think you can find him?”
“Of course,” Doyle said, sitting back in his chair and steepling his fingers. “That is, if he’s still alive.” He paused. “I’m sure I’ve seen your face before. Not a photograph, though. A drawing. A book.” Another pause, then he abruptly sat straight up in his chair, his hands slapping the desk. “Story Thieves !”
“I’m sorry?” Bethany said, taking another step backward.
Doyle stood up slowly, his masked face giving no indication of what he was thinking. “Do you know the story of my great-great-great-great-great-grandfather’s supposed death?” he asked Bethany quietly. “What am I saying, of course you do. Everyone’s seen the news articles. Sherlock Holmes dies in fall over Reichenbach Falls. A Nation Mourns.”
“Sure, I know it,” Bethany said nervously, stepping back again. “Who doesn’t?”
“Later it was all revealed to be a hoax, so he could take down Professor Moriarty’s criminal network,” Doyle said, getting closer. “Moriarty being his greatest enemy. But do you know that he actually should have died that day? That he did go over the falls, but somehow lived?”
Bethany took another step backward. Of course she knew that. She’d been there, taunting the Magister about it, since the wizard had broken Sherlock Holmes’s fall with his own magically flying body. “I . . . I didn’t know that,” she said, her voice cracking.
“My family has kept it a secret,” Doyle said, stepping closer. “No one was to know. We couldn’t let the world find out that the great rationalist Sherlock Holmes believed he was saved by a flying man, of all things.”
Bethany swallowed hard. “I should be going.”
Doyle crossed his arms, and for some reason she thought he was smiling behind the mask. “Of course. I’ll start the investigation. But we haven’t spoken about my payment.”
Relief flooded Bethany’s body, and she almost felt weak. “Of course! Payment. I’ve got gold, if that works.”
“Gold?” Doyle said. “That’s unique. Most offer a more standard currency. But that can wait. I’ll let you know what the information I find will cost once I know your father’s whereabouts. I shall contact you when I’m finished.”
Bethany shook her head. “I’m usually not very contactable. Can I just come back in a few weeks or something?”
“Why?” Doyle asked, taking another step toward her. “Going somewhere?”
She tried to shrug nonchalantly. “It’s just much easier if I come to you. Thank you. And please, don’t tell anyone about this. It’s between us. I can pay extra for that.”
Doyle slowly nodded, then gestured toward the door. “Interesting to meet you, Ms. Sanderson,” he said.
“Same to you,” Bethany said, then stepped outside and closed the door behind her.
And for the first time since the finding spell had failed, Bethany actually felt hope again. Doyle Holmes had to be able to find her father. Part of her mind was screaming at her that this was wrong, that she was changing Doyle’s story, that even if Doyle found her father, what else would that tell Doyle? Her father might come from any story, after all. Could Doyle even cross into different stories? Was that possible?
But that part of her mind got shouted down by one simple thought: I am finding my father! I don’t care what it takes, I am making this right!
It wasn’t until the enormous guard led her back to the front gate of the Baker Street School that she realized she’d never told Doyle that her last name was Sanderson.
CHAPTER 22
01:03:29
Owen grabbed his head from the pain of the flashback and unconsciously took a step forward . . . into nothingness.
His eyes flew open, and he realized he was falling
straight off the ledge, forty feet above the police parking lot below. Suddenly the pain in his head was replaced by a shrieking terror.
Something grabbed him from behind and yanked him backward. “Whoa there, killer,” the girl in black said. “Going somewhere? You’re not an owl, Owen. Mostly you look more like an adorable panda who’s always sad. Sad Panda.”
Owen tried to answer, but he couldn’t get a word out, or catch his breath even. “I . . . I . . .”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got you, SP,” the girl said, putting an arm around him. A noise behind them made her twirl around, almost sweeping Owen off the ledge again. Someone was banging on the door in Inspector Brown’s office. “Whoops, time to go!”
But Owen couldn’t move any more than he could speak. His heart wouldn’t stop racing, and all he could think about was how far down it was. One step and he’d be falling into nothingness, and then . . . splat.
“You’ve done scarier things than this, Owen,” Kiel said. “Think of what you did with Charm. That was far more dangerous than this is!”
“That was . . . a book,” Owen said between breaths. “This is . . . real. No . . . happy . . . endings if . . . I fall.”
The girl in black stepped in front of Owen, barely still on the ledge, and gave him a sympathetic look. “I get it, SP,” she said. “You’re freezing, but I’m here to help. You just need a little incentive. Get moving, okay, or I’ll throw you off this ledge.”
Owen’s eyes widened and he took an unconscious step to the right, trying to get away from her. “See?” she said. “That got you moving. Look at you go!” And with that, she pushed him onward. “Yay, SP! You’re killing the game!”
“You two go on, I’ll take care of them,” Kiel said from the other side of the window. His hands went down to his belt and he sighed. “It would have been a lot more fun with magic, but oh well.” He started to climb back inside the window, but the girl yanked him back out onto the ledge.