The Stolen Chapters (13 page)

“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.

01:03:29

O
wen 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.

“No one gets left
behind 
!” she said in a singsong voice. “Including people trying to be heroes.”

“You three, stop this instant and go back inside!” Inspector Brown shouted in a bullhorn from the parking lot. “There's nowhere for you to run. We don't want you to get hurt.”

Owen paused at this, but the girl gave him a not-so-small push, and he continued moving along the ledge. He picked up speed and slid carefully farther toward the edge of the building.

Unfortunately, there wasn't much farther to go. The ledge ran out just past a few more windows. “So when you say you know what you're doing . . . ,” he whispered to the girl.

“Oh, I've
so
got this,” she said, patting him on the shoulder.

“So I'm guessing you just had a memory return too?” Kiel called to him.

“Yup,” Owen said. “I convinced Bethany to look into Doyle, Kiel. This is all my fault.”

“We both went to her,” Kiel said. “Don't blame yourself.”

“It was my idea,” Owen said. “But I said I had a backup plan. Did you get that memory yet?”

“Nope,” Kiel said, sounding a bit frustrated. Not having his magic must be tough for him, Owen realized. He had seemed a bit different ever since he'd arrived at the police station. Not down so much as just . . . less
Kiel
.

“Turn around and go back inside!” Inspector Brown shouted into the bullhorn. “This isn't helping your case. Come in and we'll talk.”

“They'd rather die, cop!” the girl shouted back, her voice harsh and threatening. “You'll
never
take them alive!”

“What?!”
Owen said.

“I agree with the theory, but let's not go overboard,” Kiel said.

“Follow my lead,” she whispered to them, grinning. “Trust me, it's more fun that way!”

Owen gave Kiel a look, who shrugged, then smiled his Kiel smile. “Might as well,” the smile said. “It could be fun!”

“Who
are
you?” Owen whispered to the girl.

“Just a criminal genius who could probably stand a haircut at this point,” she told him. “Why, who are
you
?”

“Stop right there!” a police officer yelled from the ledge, coming out of Inspector Brown's window behind them. They must have broken down his door.

“Oh, they're calling our bluff!” the girl whispered, her eyes lighting up. “Looks like we're jumping to
extreme measures
.”

Then she grabbed Owen by the back of his shirt and pushed him off the ledge.

“Aaah!” he screamed, terror exploding through his body as he fell into nothingness. He paused in midair just like last time, only this time the girl didn't yank him back to the wall. Instead, she left him hanging there, her grip on his shirt the only thing keeping him from splatting.

“Let us go or I drop the kid!” the girl shouted at the assembled police. “I swear I'll do it!”

“No dropping!”
Owen shouted, his heart trying to break his chest open.

“If he falls,” Kiel said, his voice low and scary, “
you
go next.”

“Turn off those spotlights!” the girl shouted, then turned to the police officer in the window. “And you, back inside. Now!”

The police officer glared at her, but slowly retreated back into the window, while below the spotlights clicked off one by one.

“Don't you love when plans just go perfectly?” the girl asked quietly, her voice back to normal. She pulled Owen back onto the ledge, and he pushed against the building as hard as he could, so thankful to feel hard concrete.

“Never do that again!” he hissed at her, his voice cracking.

“No promises,” she said with a huge smile. “Let's go. Don't fall behind, MK.”

“Would you call me Kiel?” Kiel whispered, but started sliding along the ledge again.

“On the side of the building, there's a drainpipe,” the girl whispered to them. “We're going to climb up it to the roof.”

The roof? Climbing? A
drainpipe
? “Other than that being a great way to die, won't we just be trapped up there?” Owen asked, trying to be as polite as possible to this crazy person.

“You'd
think
so!” she told him. “I guess we'll see!” She pushed his shoulder again, and Owen sidled on down the ledge until he was just out of sight of the police below.

This side of the building was empty, filled mostly with garbage cans, and surrounded on two sides by bushes. The third side was an open alley down the block, and even from this high, Owen could hear running feet. They wouldn't be out of sight for long.

“Up we go,” The girl shoved him into the drainpipe, then playfully kicked him in the bottom.

“Stop that!” he whispered as angrily as he could, then began climbing, trying not to look down. The pipe was small, yes, but it was firmly latched into place, which made for convenient footholds. This girl had done her research. Either that, or she had gotten lucky. Owen didn't particularly want to know which.

After a harrowing fight against gravity, Owen pulled his trembling body up and over the edge of the roof and tumbled down onto it. He considered kissing the roof, like he'd seen people do when they landed from crazy plane rides, but honestly, it looked pretty disgusting, so he passed.

A moment later the other two joined him, neither one having any trouble with the climb.

“Now what?” Owen asked, trying to cover the fear in his voice.

“Now you see where some of your money is going,” the girl said, looking proud of herself as she pointed back down. Owen groaned, then pushed himself to his feet, and with a tight hold on the edge of the roof, looked down.

On the ground below, a girl and two boys about their size jumped out from between the garbage cans and pushed through the bushes, just as police officers reached the alley.

“Stop!” the officers shouted, and Owen heard one talking into his radio. “They're on the street, on foot, heading for Alexander Road.” The officers sprinted past the garbage cans and pushed through the bushes, following the fleeing kids.

Owen stepped back away from the roof and turned slowly toward the girl, staring at her in awe. “You have . . . decoys?”

The girl shrugged. “Minions, really. I've worked with them before. Quality henchpeople. Five stars, would hire again.”

“But the police will be able to see that we're not them,” Kiel said, then mumbled something about “Not even a disguise spell or anything.”

“Not in the
dark
,” she said, looking far too excited. “Besides, they won't catch up. My people have done this before. We give them two minutes, then climb down the drainpipe and head in the opposite direction. See? Perfect plan! And it was so easy! Then you just pay me the rest of what you owe me, and we all hug, maybe a few tears, promise to stay in touch, and then we go home!”

“. . . Pay you?” Owen said.

The girl's smile slowly faded, and her eyes narrowed. “You don't have the other half of the
gold 
?”

“Other half?” Owen said, a second before the memory slammed into him like a freight train to the face, and he fell backward onto the roof. Kiel managed to stay on his feet, but didn't look any happier.

“Are you okay?” the girl said, helping Owen stand up. “What keeps happening to you two?”

“Memories,” Kiel said.

“I know who you are,” Owen told her quietly. “I
remember
now!”

The girl give him a confused smile. “And who exactly am I, then?”

Owen swallowed hard. “You're my backup plan. You're a
Moriarty
.”

Yesterday . . .

O
ur backup plan,” Owen whispered from their hiding spot in the bushes, nodding at the girl with long black hair being led out of a police station in handcuffs. A detective unlocked her cuffs, then sighed, putting his keys away as he sat down on the steps of the police station.

For a moment the girl just looked at him sadly, then started to walk away, but the detective called for her. “Moira Gonzalez,” he said, “get
back
here.”

The girl froze. “You already questioned me. What more do you want?”