About the Author
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James Riley lives in Virginia. He is the New York
Times bestselling author of the Half Upon a Time, Story Thieves,
and Revenge of Magic series.
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Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
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Secret Origins
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CHAPTER 1
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The evil King of All Stories held his enormous eraser to
Bethany’s head as she tried to escape.
“It’s too late, heroes!” the king told Owen, Kiel, and Charm.
“There’s nothing you can do! Now I’ll erase the parts of
Bethany’s life story that make her a good person, thereby turning
her into my evil minion. Then, together, we’ll invade the
nonfictional world and rule everything!”
“Let her go!” Owen shouted. “Or you won’t like what comes next.”
The evil King of All Stories sneered. “You? The nonfictional hero
who’s saved the fictional world more times than I can count? You
have no power here, boy.”
“Don’t I?” Owen took out paper and a pencil and began writing.
The King of All Stories drops his eraser.
The king’s eraser immediately dropped out of his hand. “What?”
the king shouted in amazement. “But how?”
“Through the power of words!” Owen shouted. “Books are magical,
and so is writing!” He wrote something else on the paper.
The King of All Stories lets Bethany go, then trips on his own
feet.
The king let go of Bethany, then spectacularly wiped out on his
next step, doing a front flip before landing hard on his back.
The Crown of Stories fell off his head and rolled a few feet
away.
The Crown of Stories appears on Owen’s head, Owen wrote.
Immediately, the crown disappeared from the ground, then
reappeared on Owen’s head. It was exactly the right size, as if
it were made for him all along.
“No!” the former king shouted from the ground. “You can’t do this
to me. This is all I had!”
“Not true,” Owen said, turning to his former archenemy. “This
isn’t you, Your Majesty. You’re not meant to be evil. Someone’s
rewritten your story, just as you tried to do for Bethany.”
“I’m not?” the former king said. “Then what was I meant to be?”
“A her,” Owen said quietly, then wrote something on his paper.
The former King of All Stories turns back into his real self.
Instantly a bright light filled the room, then spread out over
the entire Kingdom of Stories, blinding anyone who happened to be
looking at the castle at that moment. The light enveloped the
former king, raising him into the air in a completely awesome
way.
The light became too bright to look at, and they all covered
their eyes except Owen, who wrote himself sunglasses that made
him look even cooler. Then abruptly, the light disappeared and
everything went dark.
“Looks like this story,” Owen said, pulling off his sunglasses,
“just started a new chapter.”
Bethany slowly stepped past Owen, her eyes on the figure on the
ground. The former king was no longer dressed in royal robes. Now
he wore normal clothes, and his hair had turned the same shade as
Bethany’s, a bronzish red.
The man shook his head, then slowly pushed to his feet, his mouth
hanging open.
“. . . Bethany?” he said, his eyes widening.
“Dad?” she said, not believing it.
“It’s me, Beth,” her dad said, holding out his arms. “You’ve
saved me! I never thought I’d be able to turn back to my true
self, but you’ve done it!”
Bethany ran forward and jumped into her dad’s arms, knocking them
both to the ground. “Dad!” she shouted. “I can’t believe it’s
you! Owen, you did it!”
“I’ve never seen anything so sweet,” Kiel said from Owen’s side,
rubbing his eyes.
“I have,” Charm said, looking at Owen as her hand slipped into
his.
• • •
The white paw of a black cat touched Owen’s hand, and he stopped
writing. Spike, Owen’s fictional self’s former cat, glanced up at
Owen from his desk with a look that said, Really?
“Too much?” Owen asked his fictional cat.
Spike just blinked his eyes slowly, leaving his paw on Owen’s
hand.
“I have,” Charm said, looking at Owen with affection.
Spike dug his claws into Owen’s hand, and Owen sighed. “Fine.”
“Really?” Charm said, stepping away from the other two. “No one
else thinks this is a trap? I’m the only one?”
Spike took his paw off of Owen’s hand and began to purr
contentedly as he closed his eyes to nap again.
“You know, I’m the one who’s writing this,” Owen said. “And it’s
not exactly easy. Maybe at least hold your judgment until it’s
done?”
Spike briefly opened his eyes, then closed them again, completely
unmoved.
Owen absently scratched his cat’s stomach, reading over what he
had written. Ugh. Why was it all so bad? Did every writer have
this problem? Everything just seemed so . . . obvious. Make the
villain Bethany’s dad? It’d been done a thousand times.
He began to idly tap the keys without pressing them while he
stared off into space. When he glanced back at the computer,
though, there were new words. Apparently he’d been typing without
realizing it?
“Owen,” said a man who appeared out of nowhere, with no features
or details anywhere on his body. The mannequin-looking man had
his back to the Owen in the story as he spoke to the real Owen.
“Stop this at once. You’re manipulating fictional characters’
lives. Do you have any idea what you’re doing here?”
Owen’s eyes widened as he read the lines, while at his side,
Spike began to growl, low and menacing. Owen hadn’t just written
those words . . . had he?
And then more text appeared on the screen, without Owen even
moving his hands.
“Do not write again,” Nobody said. “I don’t want to have to tell
you this twice.” And with that, he disappeared.
A chill went through Owen, and he quickly reread the last few
lines. What had just happened? Was that really Nobody? And if so,
was Owen actually messing with real fictional people’s lives? Had
he just created another fictional Owen?
He quickly highlighted the entire story, ready to hit the delete
button, then froze. What if he had created new people, and was
now going to delete them? Would that take them out of existence
somehow? His finger hovered over the button as he looked to Spike
for an answer. But now that Nobody was gone, the cat seemed to
have returned to his nap, not paying any attention.
Should he delete the story, or was that worse? If only there was
someone he could ask—
“OWEN!” shouted someone from mere inches away.
Owen screamed and tumbled out of his chair, while Spike tore away
across the room, hiding under the bed. His heart racing, Owen
turned to find Bethany’s head sticking out of a piece of paper on
his desk, and he gave her the dirtiest look he could.
“Don’t do that! You ed me half to death!” She’d given him a
page from a book she kept hidden under her bed. In case of
emergencies (fictional characters escaping their books, libraries
burning down, that kind of thing) she could jump in one page,
move to the next part of the story, then pop out of his. But it
was not meant for terrifying him!
“Good, you should be ed!” she said, breathing heavily.
“Because that guy is back on the street again, the one who keeps
watching my house!”
Owen groaned loudly. “Seriously? This again?”
“Oh, is my being stalked by a crazy person boring to you?”
Bethany asked, giving him a sarcastic look. “Get over here and
help me on him!” She moved her head to the side, and one hand
popped out of the page.
Owen shook his head. “No way. Remember what happened last time I
came over to check on this guy?”
Bethany rolled her eyes. “He wasn’t there, but only because he
must have seen us coming!”
“And the time before that?”
“That one, I got the car wrong.”
“And we terrified that poor old lady!”
“Then she shouldn’t be acting so suspiciously!” Bethany yelled,
her hand flying around wildly. “Who sits in their car for ten
minutes at eleven at night?”
“She couldn’t get it started!”
“That’s what she wanted us to think,” Bethany said, glancing
around suspiciously. “Hurry up, or he might leave again!”
“Which would mean he’s not actually ing on you,” Owen said,
sighing. “Bethany, it’s been a while since we jumped into a
book—”
“Two months, three weeks, and four days, actually. Now come on—”
“And I know it’s been hard on you. But you’re kind of acting . .
. different now.”
Bethany’s face froze, and she pulled her hand back into the page.
“What? What are you talking about? Don’t you get it? This could
be Doyle, or Fowen again. Maybe Fowen got out of the book where I
left him and is back for revenge. Or maybe Doyle remembered
everything that happened and wants to figure out how I jump into
books. If Kiel were here instead of running off to find out who
he is without magic, he could just cast a spell or something to
find out who this guy is. But without him, we’re going to need a
good plan.”
Owen groaned again. “No more mysteries. Please? Fowen and Doyle
are both still in the fictional world where we left them. And
whoever’s parked outside your house is probably one of your
neighbors, which would explain why he’s on your street.”
“You think I’m making this up, don’t you?” Bethany said, looking
suspicious.
“Not . . . entirely. I just think you used to jump into books
every night, and now, well, your imagination doesn’t have as much
to play with, so it’s messing with you.”
She gave him an evil look and started to say something, then
stopped, shaking her head. “Maybe you’re right. I might have a
little bit of cabin fever or something. I’ll just go to bed and
forget all this. See you tomorrow?”
“Yeah, of course,” Owen said, breathing a sigh of . He’d
been worried about saying something for weeks now, but she’d been
getting more and more frantic to find something exciting in their
fairly boring lives, and it was out of control. “And Bethany?
Only use that page for emergencies. I might not have clothes on
or something!”
Bethany rolled her eyes, then waved good-bye and disappeared.
Owen slowly got back into his chair, and Spike came trotting out
from under the bed, then jumped into his lap. He petted his cat
for a moment, then sighed.
“Bethany’s going after the guy in the car, isn’t she.”
Spike just purred in response.
“Fine,” Owen said, and set Spike on his bed. “I’ll go, but this
guy better be a murderer or something, or I’m going to be really
annoyed!”
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