Pick the Plot, Page 6

  The rainbow buildings became more and more ornate as they floated through the city, now growing together like some sort of coral reef. It was all so beautiful and distracting that Owen almost missed seeing a hundred-foot-tall statue step off its platform, then stride back toward the beach with earth-quaking steps.

  Huh. Apparently the magic wall wasn’t their only defense.

  Behind them, Owen heard something explode, and he turned to see one of the buildings closest to the ocean covered in fire. Whoever was attacking must have gotten through the wall already. And now that he and Kara were trapped here, they’d probably be seen as enemies by the invaders, too. This whole thing just kept getting worse.

  Their speed picked up, and soon they were floating through a large decorated archway and straight into a tower so tall he couldn’t see the top. Owen gaped, wondering how it could possibly be real as he craned his neck to look up. No skyscraper in the real world was that large, not even close. And they’d built this with magic?

  Inside, the tower was completely hollow, without even a stairway leading up. The interior walls were covered in elaborate designs and what looked like words, but in an alphabet Owen had never seen before. The words intertwined with the art seamlessly, and again, he had to look away to keep from losing himself in the beauty.

  Their bubble quickly rose through the empty tower, its speed steadily increasing until the walls sped by so fast the art all blended together. Finally they slowed and passed through another shimmering light to land in the middle of what looked like a meeting chamber.

  Twelve chairs made of light rose out of the shimmering substance that made up the floor, and in each one sat a human being that looked at least a few centuries old, if not more. The bubble surrounding Owen and Kara disappeared, but none of the elders said a word. Could these people even speak, let alone move? They looked so frail! Were these chairs the only thing holding them up?

  One of the twelve, maybe the oldest—except they all looked like the oldest—turned to face Owen and Kara. “What have you brought us, Adelaine?” he said in a voice much stronger than he looked.

  “Hope,” she said, bowing. “Or so I believe, Magister.”

  Wait. What, now? Owen’s spine turned to ice at the very mention of the name. But there was no way. That was just a coincidence, probably a term of respect or something! This incredibly old man looked nothing like Kiel’s evil teacher, other than that they both had white hair and long beards, and were wearing magical-looking robes. But what male wizard didn’t have all of those things?

  Maybe she hadn’t even said “magister” anyway! Who was to say that these magicians were speaking English? They probably had translator spells, and if that was the case, Owen’s brain had probably just substituted the word “magister” for something else since he was used to it. That had to be it!

  “There is no hope,” another of the council members said, this one a woman so delicate that it looked as if her bones had abandoned her body. “We have foreseen that the Naturalists will destroy us. The future is written in stone and cannot change. We must flee if we are to survive.”

  “That is exactly the hope I bring,” Adelaine said. “These two come from the future. Look at them closely, and tell me that you see what I do. I prayed that I hadn’t gone mad when I first set eyes upon them!”

  The council members each took up their staffs, books, or wands, and Owen felt his hair rise on end as twelve separate glows appeared around both him and Kara. Assorted gasps and murmurings filled the room, and Owen cringed.

  Readers, this is so your fault. You and I both know that you could have fixed the time bracelet and jumped us back to the future at any point, and yet, here we are. I hope you see what you’ve done. We’re interfering with an entire universe, and for all we know, this might stop Kara’s from ever existing! Are you okay with that?

  “But what proof do we have that these two come from the future?” asked a third council member.

  “You can see it as easily as I, Estran,” Adelaine said, and Owen frowned. Shouldn’t she have called him “magister” too? Or shouldn’t his brain have translated it that way? Maybe the previous “magister” had been a title, and this was a name. At least, he hoped that was the case. “Neither of these children could possibly have resulted from our world.”

  “Then we are in agreement,” said the first man, the one Adelaine had called Magister. “The plan to build a new reality for ourselves and our children must move forward immediately. These two children are the surest sign yet that we have no other choice. But we must delay no further, or there will be no one left to save, and no magic remaining in any reality, let alone this one.”

  “But, Magister,” said a fourth council person, “our magic will not be nearly enough to build an entire new universe. It’s not possible!”

  The first council member chuckled. “Has anything ever been impossible with magic, Uthella? Though your question brings up a related point: Building a world on pure possibility will require a grounding, a foundational stability. For that reason, I submit that we will have to keep a connection open between our worlds, the old and new. Without it, I foresee our new reality falling to pieces.”

  “You worry about the new world, yet Uthella is right,” Estran said. “Even with our entire city, we won’t have the power to do this!”

  “True,” the first council member said. “But our magic is not the only source left in this world.”

  A few of the other council members gasped. “You can’t mean . . . ,” Estran said, then trailed off.

  “I do indeed,” the Magister said. “We must take, and use, the magic inborn in each Naturalist as well, and every other human being on this planet. Without it, we would not hope to have enough power.”

  Another round of murmuring filled the room, this time louder. “Monstrous!” shouted one of the council members. “We would become no better than they!”

  “You would leave them with only their . . . science?” another council member asked, a disgusted look on her face.

  “Societies would regress back thousands of years, if not more!” said another member. “We would be dooming them for millennia.”

  “Not if we leave them a connection, as I mentioned,” the Magister said.

  “What do you mean, Magister?” Adelaine asked.

  “We need their natural magical power,” the Magister said, looking from council member to council member. “But that doesn’t mean we will leave them helpless. Just as we need their stability, they will need our possibility. I offer this plan: In place of the magic within their minds, we connect them to our new reality with a sort of ‘third eye.’ With this, they could witness everything they rejected, yes, but also have an entire realm of limitless opportunity at hand. Then they’d have all the power they’d need to survive, and thrive.” He paused. “I realize that this connection would be as much a curse as a gift for those remaining. But maybe they’ll use it to realize what they’ve done, and one day welcome us back so that we might all be whole once more.”

  The council chamber went silent as they seemed to ponder this.

  “You’ve all seen proof that it can be done,” the Magister said, pointing at Owen. “Look again into the boy’s mind if you must. He has no magic in him, yet within his mind there is still a connection to it. He can see infinite possibilities, even if he can’t control them.”

  Owen’s eyebrows shot up. He could see what, now? What was the magician talking about with infinite possibilities?

  “But the girl is different,” another member said.

  “She is,” the Magister said. “And I believe I know why. But that can wait.”

  “I’m not really following this,” Kara whispered out the side of her mouth.

  “I got lost back at the beach,” Owen whispered back.

  “Does the council hereby approve the plan, then?” the Magister said.

  Each of the twelve nodded in turn, ending on the first member, who slowly stood up. Owen could hear his
bones creaking, even from a distance. But then the man tapped his staff on the ground, and the years began to fall off of him like leaves from a tree.

  And what remained was the same man Owen had met in the Kiel Gnomenfoot books, the Magister.

  No. No, no, no, no, no. This wasn’t possible! How could the Magister be here? He wasn’t a part of Kara’s story! And besides that, this was beyond Kara’s entire reality. How could this be, even in an impossible world?

  The sounds of explosions grew closer, and the entire building began to sway. The council members looked at each other nervously, and Adelaine took Owen and Kara’s hands. “You have given us hope, children,” she said. “In payment, perhaps we can aid you in your return to your proper time.”

  “Hold, Adelaine,” the Magister said, and walked over to Owen with confident, strong strides. He bent down and peered closely into Owen’s eyes. “No, these two will remain with us. I am not yet finished with them. Bring them along.”

  . . . Uh-oh.

  Turn to page 18.

  Why did you come here?” the pink-haired girl asked, moving closer to Owen, her eyebrows furrowed. “I told you in my note I didn’t want you following me. I chose this.”

  Note? Owen’s mouth moved, but no words came out. “Guh?” he said.

  She shook her head, then stepped forward and surprised Owen by hugging him tightly. “It’s so good to see you,” she whispered, her voice a bit shaky. “But you really shouldn’t have come.”

  Okay, what was going on? First she knew his name, then she claimed to have left him a note, and now it was good to see him? Who was this girl? Had he somehow taken the place of a character in the book also named Owen? That’d be a huge coincidence, but Nobody could have made it happen. Except the name on his jumpsuit was Smith, and—

  The girl pulled away from him, looking annoyed again. “But why did you come? I’m not leaving, I don’t care what you say.”

  Owen nodded, trying to figure out why exactly this other Owen might have dropped into the prison. “Oh, I know you won’t be convinced,” he said carefully. “But, um . . . I had to check, just to be sure.” Right, that sounded good! “But now that I have, I should get out of here, go back home or something. I’ll leave you to your life in prison and keep your note as a reminder not to bother you again.”

  Totally convincing, if Owen did say so himself.

  The girl just stared at him for a moment. “You have no idea who I am, do you?”

  Or maybe not. Owen tried to look shocked. “What are you talking about? Of course I know you. I told you, I came here to, um . . .”

  She raised a questioning eyebrow but seemed to be having trouble not smiling. “Oh yeah? Then what’s my name?”

  “Okay, you got me,” Owen said, dropping his head in defeat. He closed his eyes, bracing for anger, shock, or even disbelief from whoever this was.

  “That explains so much,” the girl said, and Owen opened his eyes to find her staring up at him with worry. “Did Nobody send you here? Is this when we meet for the first time?”

  She knew about Nobody? And what did she mean, for the first time? “Where we . . . meet?”

  The girl nodded. “This is the first time, it must be. Or at least the first time you meet me. You wouldn’t ever tell me about it, because you didn’t want me to know about my future.” She paused, looking away for a second. “Well, more about it, anyway. Why didn’t you tell me that was going to happen here, in the prison? Is that why you let me turn myself in, because you knew you’d be here . . . ?” She trailed off, then shook her head. “What am I thinking? None of that matters right now. If Nobody left you here, we have to get you out, and fast.”

  “How do you know that name?” Owen asked, his mind struggling to catch up to whatever was happening here. Now she knew about Nobody, and this wasn’t the first time she had met Owen? Except it was the first time Owen met her?

  Was this all a time travel thing? Because if so, this was why time travel never made sense. How could he have met her at a different time than she met him? Even trying to get it straight in his head confused him.

  “Try not to think about it,” the girl said, grabbing his hand and leading him down the hall. “If Nobody did put you here, then I’m going to get you out again. You heard the voice: We need a three-digit code to open the exit door, so that’s what we’re going to do.” She stopped them both suddenly. “Hey, don’t tell anyone my real name here, okay? If any of the criminals knew who I really was, they could go back and prevent me from ever being born. And trust me, there’s already a line of people waiting for that chance.”

  “I don’t know your real name,” Owen said, fighting through the confusion. “Or your fake name. What should I call you?”

  She grinned a bit in embarrassment. “Ugh, right, I forgot. From my perspective, I’ve known you for almost a year at this point. It’s so odd that you don’t remember any of it. Except it’s not memory for you because it hasn’t happened yet.” She nodded almost to herself. “Well, just call me Kara while we’re here, okay?”

  Kara? That sounded familiar somehow. Wasn’t there a time travel book series about a girl named Kara something? Kara . . .

  “Dox?” Owen asked. “Kara Dox?”

  Her eyes lit up. “You do know—” But she stopped in midsentence, her face falling again. “No, you just recognize the name from the books. I remember.” She sighed deeply. “Doesn’t matter. Just follow my lead in here, and I’ll keep you safe, okay? After all, you helped me during that time when—” She stopped and rolled her eyes. “Wow, I can’t stop giving everything away. C’mon.” She grabbed Owen’s hand and pulled him toward the end of the hallway again.

  Kara Dox. Why couldn’t he remember anything else about the series? He’d seen it randomly, but couldn’t even remember the cover, let alone the plot. Why had Nobody chosen this story? And this couldn’t be the first book in the series, either. So why this one? Just because it was about a prison?

  And given that this was a prison, a question occurred to him: Why was Kara here? She seemed nice enough, but for all Owen knew, she could be the villain of the series.

  “Before we go out there,” Owen said, dragging her to a stop, “maybe I should learn a bit more about you.”

  She gave him a curious look, then seemed to get what he meant. “Oh, right,” she said, looking away. “You want to know why I’m here, in time prison. That’s fair.”

  “I’m sure you’re great and all, I just want to make sure you didn’t break a time code that involved murdering people or something.” He smiled, hoping to make it a joke, but stopped when she didn’t grin in return.

  “I belong here, Owen,” she said quietly, staring at the floor. “Right now, that’s . . . that’s all you really need to know. I turned myself in voluntarily, and won’t be leaving no matter what. This is where I need to be, for the safety of . . . everyone.”

  “Oh, Ms. Dox,” said a low, growly sort of voice from around a corner. “You two won’t be safe in here. Not while I’m locked in here with you.”

  Kara instantly shoved Owen back against the wall behind her, then moved in front of him protectively. “Who’s there?” she asked, fists held up in front of her.

  A woman with bright white hair and an elaborate gray cloak wrapped around her shoulders stepped into the hallway. As far as Owen had seen, she was the only one in the prison not wearing an orange jumpsuit.

  “Just me, my dear,” she said, giving them both a hungry smile. “It’s been too long since I’ve seen you and your little friend there. How lovely. As I was saying, considering you are the one who ruined my plans and handed me over to the Time Security agents, I’m afraid I have to disagree with you protecting anyone.” She slowly pulled a long, silky glove onto her right hand, and it began to glow. “Now, tell me, Ms. Dox: How do you wish to die?”

  WHOA. HAVE OWEN ATTACK THE STRANGE WOMAN BEFORE SHE CAN TOUCH THEM WITH THAT GLOVE.

  Turn to page 250.

  THAT’S TOO DANGEROUS.
HAVE OWEN KEEP AWAY FROM THAT GLOWING GLOVE.

  Turn to page 349.

  AIR LOCK THREE.

  The thought banged around in Owen’s head so hard it echoed. That had to have been on purpose. He winced at the pain but kept his thoughts under control as best he could. Don’t blame the readers. This is Nobody’s fault.

  Besides, if this was the only way to save Bethany, then he didn’t really have any choice but to listen to them, did he? Assuming the readers hadn’t decided that for him too.

  “Let’s do the third one,” he told Kara, pointing at the clock moving backward. They walked over to where a small group of prisoners already stood milling around, no one quite sure what to do.

  “If we go in, who’s to say we come out?” asked a woman with an eye patch, talking to a human-shaped robot made from some sort of bronze-colored metal. “I think these air locks are all traps. That’s exactly the kind of game the Time Security Agency would play with us.”

  “INDEED,” said the robot. “THIS PLACE WAS CREATED TO KEEP ME SAFE, YET IMPRISONED. LOGICALLY, THEREFORE, THEY WOULD NOT ALLOW ANYONE TO ESCAPE, CERTAINLY NOT AFTER HAVING FOUND OUT THAT THE TSA’S CREATOR RESIDES WITHIN. STILL, THERE IS A POSSIBILITY THAT THE DESIGNERS LEFT WEAKNESSES WITHOUT REALIZING THEY DID SO. I’D SUGGEST WE CONTINUE WITH THE CHALLENGE AND FIND OUT.”

  Kara’s eyes widened. “Wait, that robot founded the TSA?” she whispered to Owen. “If that’s true, why would it ever admit that in a room full of criminals that the TSA jailed?”

  “You built all of this?” an enormous prisoner said to the robot, towering over it. “You’re saying I’m in here because of you?”

  “I DID NOT SPECIFY ANY SUCH THING,” the robot responded. “AND I DID NOT BUILD THIS TIME PRISON. I AM JAILED HERE, JUST AS YOU ARE.”

  “Maybe without you, the TSA won’t exist,” the prisoner said, and grinned widely. Several of his teeth had been replaced with what looked like holograms. “Why don’t we find out?” He swung an enormous meaty fist right at the robot’s chest.