The Scribbler Guardian 1: Arks Of Octava Read online

  He stared at her, his turn to be dumbfounded. “No,” he argued, “It’s not supposed to be real, it’s supposed to be fiction. It’s…” Poe seemed to realize in that instant he’d made erroneous assumptions about their realm. “It’s not real on Octava,” he muttered, confused. “Why would they protect Octava from it and not their own… realm?”

  Wow. Charlotte’s chest tightened at how utterly pure and beautiful and undefiled this man was. “Poe,” Charlotte whispered, so very sorry. “We… are protected in fiction here. What happens in fiction isn’t real here. It’s not real here and it’s not real on Octava. But here, outside of fiction… I’m afraid it’s all very real. It’s where most Scribbler’s get their inspiration. Fiction… is actually a mirror of most of our reality.”

  “I… I get that,” Poe said, still sounding confused. “On Octava, it’s a mirror of fiction as well. We live, we have lives outside of fiction. But what happens in fiction is not real.”

  She nodded and glanced at him. “Fiction is just a mirror of reality for the most part. Many things that happen in fiction don’t even happen here. But as far as pain and sadness. Joy and love, life and death, it’s all real here. Here—it’s real. In fiction—it’s not. Octava is fiction. Scribbler’s realm... is not.”

  She raised her brows as he processed that. “I… had thought it much different.”

  “Excuse me.” Joe leaned forward between the seats. “But might I ask just what the fuck is Octava?”

  “It’s where we’re from,” Kane said. “The place where character’s made by Scribbler’s live.”

  “Scribbler’s?” Duane echoed.

  “Writers,” Charlotte helped. “Authors on Earth.”

  “Whaaaaaaaaa-da-fuq?” Joe cried. “Are you saying this dude is a fictional character?!”

  “Yes, he is,” Kane said proudly. “Me too. I’m from the Horror Province. I’m gonna be a hero.”

  Charlotte caught the freaked out look of the Ark holding Kane in his lap. “They’re real,” she said. “But we didn’t know they were. We didn’t know that when we wrote, what we were creating was real!” Fresh awe turned Charlotte’s voice shrill. “Oh God, what’s doing that? The car is shaking! Poe!”

  Poe placed his hands on the dashboard and whispered words that exited his mouth in blue fire. Charlotte whimpered as it lined the inside of the vehicle like a liquid.

  “What the hell is that?” The awed words came from one of the new Arks.

  “That’s a new trick,” Kane said, amazed. “I never seen him do that one. Mr. Poe is a Muse Rider in Octava,” he bragged.

  “What da-fuq is a Muse Rider?”

  “Language, young man,” Charlotte said. “A Muse Rider is a powerful fictional character that is able to control Scribblers.”

  “So who da-fu---my bad, who is this dude’s Scribbler!”

  “My mom is!” Kane pointed at her.

  “Your mom?” another Ark said. “I thought you said you were a fictional character.”

  Charlotte noticed the vibrating in the vehicle stopped and she breathed in relief.

  “She’s not my real mom but that’s ok.”

  “Dude, I am freaking the fuck out,” the other Ark mumbled.

  “I don’t care if you’re freaking out, language!” Charlotte reminded none too kindly.

  “Language!” Lark cried. “We just watched Armageddon. Give us a break!”

  “Kane!” Poe tore his shirt off. “Something is moving.”

  “Holy shit!” one Ark muttered.

  Charlotte glanced at his back as she drove. The tattoos were forming a new shape.

  “That’s another map!” Kane pointed, tracing the moving ink. “In the center.” He sucked in a sharp breath. “It’s the Sound Scribbler, Mr. Poe! This is his map!”

  The vehicle broke out in mixed voices and questions all at once. “Stop!” Charlotte yelled. “Poe, are you saying there is a Scribbler for the Sound Arks? And what about the final two Arks”

  “Yes,” he said, “there is a Sound Scribbler and I don’t know what about the other two Arks. Maybe he’s going to tell me where they are.”

  “Are you hurting? You don’t look well.”

  “My body is burning, the power of… the two Arks… are too much.”

  “Oh my God,” she gasped. “Tell me what to do!”

  His eyes rolled with his head. “Get to the Sound Scribbler.”

  “That’s two hours away Poe!”

  The sound of a harmonica spilled into the car with all the chaos. “Please! Quiet!” She couldn’t think!

  “Don’t stop!” Poe said.

  “What?” she looked at Poe, alarmed with the sweat covering his face. “I’m not stopping, I’m not.”

  “Play,” he said. “Play the… music.”

  “You want music?” Charlotte went for the radio.

  “No! The Ark. Play.”

  The Ark play? “Play!” she ordered, glancing back. “Whoever was playing the harmonica, play it again!”

  It was the black man with the dreadlocks. He began to play and Charlotte watched Poe sigh. “Yes,” he whispered. “He’s taking some of the power.”

  Charlotte was never great at math but she figured it out instantly. “They all need to play!”

  The chaos of chatter started again about playing and who knew how and who didn’t, and what dafuq did this and that mean.

  “You are all Sound Arks,” Charlotte yelled.

  Silence filled the vehicle apart from the haunting tunes of the harmonica.

  “Holy shit, look,” Lark whispered.

  Charlotte glanced back. The eyes of the Ark playing glowed a brilliant aqua color that matched the sound waves emitting from the harmonica. “Ohhhh wow,” Charlotte whispered.

  The man with the harmonica paused and gasped. His eyes suddenly flooded with tears as he looked all around. “I remember,” he barely whispered sounding frail. “Oh my God,” he went on in awe. “I remember.” He looked at all of them. “I remember all of you! Lark! Cado! Joe, Lucas.” He leaned forward. “Lark, you play the violin. Cado, you play a guitar.” Laughter shot out of him.

  “What do I play?” Lucas wondered, sounding hopeful.

  “You play the cello dude! You are bad-ass, the leader of The Seven! And Joe here is on the sax!”

  Lucas gasped in what sounded like awe. “Wow.” He looked around. “I… I was a leader?” He sounded… sad. Maybe disappointed with himself. “I can play an instrument?”

  “Can you ever my man!” Duane shrilled.

  “Wow,” Lucas whispered again. His astonishment sounded baffled and Charlotte could almost feel his shame. He’d just been told that he was the strongest of their team. She could practically hear him wondering how he ended up a strung out, drug-addict bum. She honestly wondered too.

  “Where are Shiri and Jude?” Duane wondered.

  “Who’s that?” Cado asked.

  “They’re the last two Arks!” Duane looked at Cado and pointed at him. “And you play a mean guitar my man. Oh my God,” he gasped. “How did we all forget each other?”

  A round of mumbled hello’s and more what-da-fuqs erupted again.

  “They need their instruments,” Duane said excitedly. “They’ll remember if they play it and we’re together.”

  “I don’t know how to play an instrument!” Lark cried, “This is nuts!”

  “I’m willing to give it a shot,” Lucas said. “What do I have to lose, right?”

  “Well, I left my sax back at the club,” Joe said.

  Charlotte could fix all that. “Nearest music store,” she said to the navigator. She weaved her way through the directions and in minutes zipped into the parking lot.

  “Uhhh, they’re closed,” Lucas said.

  “I don’t think we have a choice,” Charlotte said, ready to drive the vehicle through the wall of glass. “We need those instruments.”

  “Not safe,” Poe mumbled, sounding close to out of it.

  “You can give
me some more power and I’ll go with her,” Lucas offered like a kid wanting another turn with a cool toy.

  Poe must’ve been desperate as he reached a blind hand behind him and Lucas grabbed it. “Now that you know how it’s used,” he said.

  Lucas gasped and gave a light laugh, apparently loaded. “Got it.”

  “If you misuse it…” Poe paused and they all waited. “You’ll die.”

  “What?” Lucas shot.

  “I coded it with my character. If you use it for the wrong purpose, it will turn on you and do to you what you intend it to do to another.”

  “Uhhhh. How do I know if I’m using it right?”

  “Protect my Scribbler,” he growled. “And yourself. That’s all. Hurry, I’m losing control.”

  Lucas suddenly looked like he wanted to pass the toy to the next guy. “Shhhit.” He looked warily at their surroundings before opening the car door and climbing out.

  They got to the door and Lucas whispered, “Hold on, wait, wait. Let me try something.” He put his hand on the handle and a light click sounded as the door unlocked. His brows shot up and he let out an excited laugh while Charlotte jerked the door open and ran in. One by one, she got the instruments and sent Lucas to deliver them to the Ark with the order to start playing. Charlotte left plenty of cash on the counter for their unorthodox shopping methods, feeling only a little guilty as they all piled back in the vehicle and tore out again.

  “Play,” Poe barely whispered.

  “Play!” Charlotte yelled. “Whoever can manage it, please!” She reached over and touched Poe’s neck, startled at how hot he was.

  His head lolled toward her and he gazed at her through slitted eyes, the color of blue fire now.

  “Can’t you let it out somehow?” He reached for her hand and she took it, terrified at how hot it was. “You’re too hot, Poe. Play goddammit!” she screamed at them.

  Music started to fill the vehicle, a cacophony of shit, and Charlotte kept glancing at Poe while she drove. The look in his eyes was getting too damn far away. His lids slowly drifted shut and except for his hand quickly cooling, she would have broken out in hysterics. It was working. His fingers slowly moved and laced through hers, holding her tight as tears filled her eyes.

  Somehow he seemed to sleep through all the racket during the trip to the next destination. The maps on Poe’s back had formed a strange shape and the Sound Scribbler’s location was in the center. That meant they’d arrive there by two in the AM. Geeze.

  ****

  Poe wasn’t sure how he’d missed it. Since he’d gotten to the Scribbler’s realm, no, since he’d met the Scribbler, it showed itself. He hadn’t known what it was. Still wasn’t sure, he only knew it wasn’t… good.

  At least he was no longer feeling like he was going to explode with power. But his eagerness to get to the Sound Scribbler was gone, and in its place was a harsh ache to touch his Scribbler. Touch her in every way he could and never stop. Never stop.

  But that wasn’t going to happen. Because they were now parked outside a monstrosity of a strange facility with an even larger orange colored shield over it.

  “This is a hospital,” Charlotte whispered.

  “Is it?” Poe regarded her, not denying the hunger to see her as often as he could. “Perhaps he works here.” Scribbler returned his stare and he saw confusion in the depths of her gaze. What had happened to him that changed him? Nearly dying did that to you.

  “Maybe he’s a patient.”

  Poe recognized the voice of the harmonica player. Duane. But to him he was the Ark that saved his life. He thought about what he said. Sound Scribbler being a patient. That would be by far the most unanticipated situation.

  “It’s a puzzle,” Kane said, looking out the window. “See?” Poe turned to see him tracing a design on the glass.

  “What are you seeing?” Poe looked outside.

  “That orange thing. It’s a puzzle.”

  “You can see it?”

  “Yep,” he said.

  “What kind of puzzle?” Poe angled his head, looking.

  “I don’t see anything,” Lucas said.

  “Me either,” the other Arks mumbled.

  “It has… the number 8. And…” he angled his head the other way. “A number 214. That makes seven,” Kane said. “I think it means you need to go to room 214.”

  “Me?”

  “Yep. You’re number 8,” he said, matter-of-fact.

  “Yes.” Poe wondered if how he was supposed to do that was also on the puzzle.

  “Wow, so he is a patient?” Charlotte whispered.

  Joe let out a near hysterical laugh. “The Sound Scribbler is nuts! This is perfect!”

  Okay,” Charlotte turned in her seat. “So you just go in there and you be the amazing character I created you to be. Use your mind tricks, get through to the Sound Scribbler, and then come back.”

  Poe suddenly ached to touch her more than he could stand. He got out of the car and walked to her side and opened the door. She stared up at him as he took her hand and pulled her out. Shutting the door, he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tight to him.

  “What?” she gasped. “Poe, what? Why do you keep doing this?”

  “Doing what?” he whispered. “Holding you? Feeling you?”

  “Yes,” she said back. “I thought… you… were pissed at me.”

  He set her down and held her face, kissing at her lips softly. “I’m not. I’m not angry.”

  She held his face back. “You’re scaring me. I don’t like this.”

  He paused, staring at her. “Why?”

  “You’re… you should be angry with me, that’s why.” She wiped tears from her eyes and looked right. “You’re a good man, Poe and I should not have…” she looked down and shook her head. “I should not have touched that.”

  “Get in the car, Scribbler. Later. Later, I’ll show you just what you’ve done to me.” He took her face again and kissed her, pushing her sweet mouth open to take what he had to give her. When his hunger became too much, he opened the door for her and she got back in. “I’ll be as quick as possible. Keep everything locked.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  As Poe approached the hospital building he paused as a thin thread of orange floated down from the dome shield and gently laced itself around his fingers. Poe let it tug him in the direction he needed to go, grateful that the concern about where, was now solved.

  Poe reached the front of the mansion looking five story structure. The glass doors were unmanned and he was sure they were locked. As he reached for the handle, the orange strand of power reached ahead of him and opened the door like a gracious host. Poe walked in and the orange tugged him on. At approaching the first sign of people, Poe froze. An orange haze covered his eyes and he looked down and realized it covered all of him while still leading him past countless nurses and security. All blind to his presence.

  And that solved his other worry.

  Eagerness filled his body and he sped up, his gaze on the door he knew he was going to. There was a person behind it. Not a patient, but a resident in the form of a patient there. At nearing the door, it opened quietly and Poe didn’t feel the need to worry or pause, but rather hurry. He entered the room and the door closed behind him. There he was in the corner. A rather large man in the shadows.

  He turned and Poe pondered why he couldn’t feel him like he did everybody else. The man raised his hand and the orange left Poe and went to him, wrapping his hand like a glove. He began moving his arm before him and the orange energy formed odd musical looking notes. Poe recognized them as One Voice Chords and felt the urge to produce them. As he hummed the mixture of deep and high notes simultaneously, he heard their urgent meaning inside him.

  I am the Sound Scribbler. I cannot speak your language here without being heard by The Dudgeon, an evil secret society formed in the Scribbler’s realm, set up to take control. I thank you 8th Ark for coming, I have waited seven years for you. You must
go to the Bronze Dome at 7 o’clock. There will be a musical and dance performance there. The hospital is taking the residents and I have arranged to secure eight seats. Five for the Arks that are with you and three for you, your Scribbler, and Kane. Kane will obtain that which you need to return to Octava.

  He paused his motions as though taking a breath, then began again.

  I know all of your questions.

  The Dudgeon have placed a Tabard around the Scribbler’s realm so that those who come here forget Octava. It also prevents the Scribblers from knowing their creations are real. This is what the Seven Arks have learned, but have forgotten. This is what they now remember. This is what they must bring back to Octava. The Dudgeon are controlling Scribbler’s here. They are who oppose you. They can’t let you return with this knowledge. The Sound Scribbler’s have been invoked by the noble rulers of Octava for this mission. We are not bound by the same laws of Octava, thereby allowing us to intervene.

  Poe merely had to think the questions he had. Why me?

  Again the answers came in the form of voice chords. You were created for this purpose.

  There was a pause and Poe looked at the man before him and for the first time he felt him. His sadness. For Poe. You are the portal. The 8th Ark is the doorway. This is your purpose.

  Poe didn’t understand his sadness. And yet he did. But the why’s eluded him.

  Your Scribbler has bonded with you. And you with your Scribbler.

  Poe waited for understanding to come with that. It was the reason for the sadness. And yet he didn’t connect what it meant.

  You cannot go through the portal back to Octava… nor can you stay. You’re not created for the Scribbler’s realm. And… your connection to the Scribbler can’t be severed without it destroying you.

  The numb inside Poe slowly turned cold as his words sank in. That’s what it had been all along since he’d met her. He was dying.

  What about the Scribbler?

  She will live. Very heart broken.

  Pain stabbed Poe, hot and furious as he looked down. He waved away the orange energy, caressing him. He would not be comforted. How long did he have?

  Once I give you the keys, you will have two hours. You can choose to not be the portal but you are not able to remain on Earth much longer.