Story Thieves by James Riley Page A

her nervous, and she hated Kiel’s jokes, or so she said. The book made it out like she secretly liked Kiel and his sense of humor, though.
    Which meant she now secretly liked Owen , and his sense of humor. Which worked out pretty well, because Charm was kind of cute for a half robot with a red eye.
    Stop that. Play it cool. Owen took a deep breath to steady himself, then forced a grieving sigh. “I’m sorry too,” he said as gruffly as he could. “It’s all my fault.”
    â€œIt was Dr. Verity?”
    He nodded as seriously as he could.
    â€œThere’s nothing more we can do here, then,” she said, yanking him up to his feet with her incredibly strong robot arm. “I was going to wait in the ship, but sensors detected one of the Science Soldier transport ships surrounding Magisteria now on its way down here, so I figured I should warn you.”
    â€œWarn me?” Owen asked.
    Something exploded just above them, and Charm flipped around, her ray guns in hand, pointing at the stairs.
    â€œThat we’re about to have company,” she said.
    Okay. Yeah, this was totally like living out an incredible action movie, only a million times better. Too bad Bethany had to hate fun so much, or she could have been there with him, disguised as a desk or Alphonse or something.
    â€œLet them come,” Owen said to Charm, narrowing his eyes in what he hoped was a dangerous way. “I’m in the mood to take down a few robots.”
    Awesome.

CHAPTER 15
    W rite,” the Magister told Jonathan Porterhouse.
    Mr. Porterhouse, wide-eyed with fear, didn’t move.
    The Magister’s eyes hardened, and he raised a glowing hand. For a moment it looked like he might attack the author, and Bethany could see the glow of magic reflected in Mr. Porterhouse’s eyes.
    But instead, the Magister lowered his hand, the glow dying. To her side, Bethany heard the boy in black quietly let out a huge breath he’d been holding.
    â€œI have no desire to hurt you, Jonathan Porterhouse,” the Magister said. He gestured, and the author began to sink into the floor. Mr. Porterhouse’s face contorted like he was screaming, but no sound came out, given that he still had no mouth. “At least, not if you are innocent in this,” the Magister continued.“If innocence is indeed a possibility. Consider your choices here, as I shall consider mine.”
    Mr. Porterhouse sank out of sight, his mouth reappearing just in time for his scream to be cut off as he disappeared, and Bethany shivered. “Where did you put him?” she whispered.
    â€œHe has no dungeon in this home,” the Magister told her. “So the lowest floor shall have to suffice.” He gave her a tired look. “I truly do have no wish to harm the man, if he is ignorant of his actions. In fact, I wish no harm upon anyone. But I have seen his library. Thousands upon thousands of stories lie within those books, and if each one contains a world like mine, existing solely to entertain your people . . .” He rubbed his forehead with his thumbs. “I cannot let this continue, Bethany. I cannot .”
    Bethany shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re saying, but you can’t just change it. There’s nothing to change. What could you possibly do?”
    â€œNothing,” the Magister admitted. “Not without your power.”
    â€œMy . . . my power?”
    â€œMagi, let’s discuss this,” the boy in black said, but the Magister ignored him.
    â€œYour father comes from a world like mine,” the Magister told her. “Did one of your writers invent him, too? Were his actions his own, or forced upon him? Don’t you see, Bethany? If your father and his world were created to follow a story, then he had no freedom! His will was not his own!”
    â€œI don’t like where this is headed,” the boy said. “Maybe it’s time we all