Bethany’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.”
“A few stupid risks is my middle name. It’s a family name, from my father’s uncle.”
“We have to find the Magister,” Bethany said, ignoring Kiel as she jumped to her feet. “But first I need to find where he’s keeping all the books he took from Jonathan Porterhouse’s library.”
“That’s it!” Kiel shouted. “Are you going to release some crazy monster to attack him? Honestly, that’s what I’d do. Something huge, toothy, and immune to magic. Seems like the smart thing to do, given—”
“No, and stop talking. But I do have a specific kind of book in mind, so I might be a while. And that means I need you to do something for me.”
“I am at your command, of course,” Kiel told her. “Though remember, I’ve got no magic, so maybe something nice, easy, and safe.”
She frowned. “I need you to go distract all the fictional monsters outside and make them chase you back in here. Round them all up and bring them to me.”
“Even better.” And despite the dark, Bethany knew Kiel was grinning.