The Pen Thief and the Chamber of Power

By Tasha Madison

Chosen to Protect.

Destined to Defend.

 

 

Arnie Schmidt has survived high school bullying and crushing heartbreak. Now, he must confront his deepest fear ... the truth about his mysterious powers that may change his life and futur

• Language: English
• Publisher: Author Academy Elite
• Release date: Jun 7, 2022
• ISBN: 9798885830119

Tasha Madison

Tasha Madison shares an ancient paternal lineage with Ramesses III. She wrote this novel to honor her distant ancestor and to explore how various historical actors might have bolstered his dramatic demise. Tasha is a graduate of the Edward R. Murrow School of Communication at Washington State University and Seattle University's School of Law. She is the author of Fabric of a Generation, a YA historical fantasy that follows the family saga of a teen whose world is turned upside down after finding a mystical object in the attic. When she's not writing, you can catch her in the middle of an epicurean battle with family members (or scrapbooking). To learn more about Tasha's latest adventures, visit her website at: tashamadison.com.

Book preview

chapter 1

Breaking News

Arnie Schmidt could feel the warm glow of eighteen tiny flames beneath his bottom lip. A throng of people swarmed around him, cheering him on to make a wish. Against his better judgment, he closed his eyes and complied.

He wanted to crumple his body against his chair until he disappeared. Instead, he silently yearned for the obnoxious bunch of neighbors his mother invited to return to their own homes, along with the nameless horde of co-workers he didn’t know from his father’s manufacturing plant. He guardedly lifted his eyelids. Nothing about his lame birthday party had changed.

Arnie sighed dispiritedly. Although officially an adult now, the entirety of his existence still left little, if anything, to envy. He expected to feel differently, somehow.

His rib cage tightened with the throbbing disenchantment of his idealistic hopes. He worried the disappointing reality would shatter his insides. He briefly considered the probability, but his chest burned with the likelihood of heartburn instead.

He stared across the room and contorted his mouth into a half-hearted grin. Kayley beamed back at him, beyond the mound of icing Mrs. Schmidt had placed in cake-form on the dining room table.

Erik slouched in the corner. His face glazed with boredom and a fierce glint of annoyance. He tired of having to maintain the ruse of playacting the celebratory well-wishes of one of Arnie’s friends. As far as he could tell, Arnie only had one—Kayley. And, for the life of him, he didn’t understand how or why.

Mrs. Schmidt happily slashed into the layers of cake. She served up a hefty slice for Arnie and then each guest. Arnie shook his head in disbelief. Witnessing his mother dissect the baked confection resembled watching a chess match with one of the greats at the helm —strategic, disciplined, and ostensibly effortless. He estimated that they had enough to feed an entire battalion.

His uncle knowingly squeezed the top of his nephew’s shoulders. I think we may run out of cake soon, Uncle Gregory impishly suggested.

How? Arnie asked, shoving a sugary wad into his mouth. "I know they say an army marches on its stomach, but even if the Marines did, too, we’d still have enough food for the Navy, Coast Guard, and Air Force!"

Uncle Gregory swallowed an oncoming snicker.

Sheesh! What was Mom thinking? This monstrosity is larger than most people’s wedding cakes!

Uncle Gregory intentionally collided his elbow into the jut of Arnie’s shoulder and expelled a much-needed laugh. Well, hopefully, your birthday presents better match your expectations, he said, directing Arnie’s attention to the small corpus of gifts at the opposite end of the dining table.

Arnie unenthusiastically scrutinized the unwrapped muddle of presents. His gaze flicked from his uncle to the uninteresting mass and back again. Arnie frowned. He had hoped for something a little more … impressive. He wheedled away his constricted gaze and pasted on his best smile. Uncle Gregory energetically clapped Arnie on the back, too ecstatic to notice Arnie’s mirth contained anything less than genuine merriment.

Kayley circled the table with Erik obediently in tow. Happy birthday, Arnie! I am so happy for you. I hope you are enjoying your special day, she gushed with sincere affection.

Yeah. Welcome to adulthood, Erik added. Kayley swatted him across the chest. Erik shrugged apathetically.

At night’s end, Arnie happily absconded upstairs, exhausted from small talk with strangers and Erik’s constant need for personal entertainment. He locked his bedroom door behind him and anxiously waited until he heard the comforting, muted blare of his parents watching TV downstairs.

Arnie sat on the edge of his bed. He wrestled with his thoughts. He gave his mind permission to think by disconnecting himself from the expectations of others. When he couldn’t bear to sit still any longer, he jumped up and paced the room.

My family needs this. No! My family deserves this. My dad works. He works hard! This would help him to feel equal to Uncle Gregory for the first time in his life.

Arnie’s gait slackened. He nervously ogled his open closet through his eyeglasses.

I can buy new clothes …. better clothes … Then, even Erik couldn’t make fun of me, and Aurora would have to take me more seriously.

Arnie stared down into his destiny. Several business shirts grazed the crown of his head as he kneeled onto the threshold of his closet. The weathered floorboards defiantly moaned beneath him as he gingerly pulled out a ragged backpack he secreted behind old books and dingy clothing.

He unzipped the bag. The newly minted eighteen-year-old could scarcely believe his own eyes. He grabbed two bundles of crisp hundred-dollar bills. He smiled as he admired the mustard yellow ten-thousand-dollar currency strap on each stack. He counted his good fortune. All two hundred and fifty thousand of it! Arnie imagined every Benjamin Franklin winking back at him with equal delight.

His heart thundered beneath his rib cage as he flipped through all twenty-five stacks one by one. The rhythmic curl of the bills masked the inky cotton, fresh-from-the-bank scent.

Arnie calculated the probability of his favorable circumstances and laughed. As much as he enjoyed the certainty of mathematics, even he liked to defy the odds now and again.

He returned the cash bundles to their hiding place and picked up the landline on his desk to call Erik. He wanted to make his high school bully turn green with envy—as green as the pile of money in the back of his closet—but, he decided against it. He considered calling Kayley instead, but he agonized over whether she might try to convince him not to keep it. The money belongs to me more than anyone else. Finders keepers and all that! he reasoned.

No, he would tell no one. He didn’t need an audience or anyone to witness his prosperity to make it real. It already was!

An elfin grin spread across Arnie’s face. Now, I can buy what I really want for my birthday, he whispered to himself before turning off his light and climbing into bed.

The following morning, he took advantage of the weekend, made his excuses to his parents, and celebrated his birthday all over again. This time, by himself. He slung the ragged backpack over his right shoulder and took the bus downtown.

He began his day at his favorite bakery. He gnawed on a blueberry streusel muffin after drinking a few sips of his vanilla latte. His father would have objected to anything other than a plain bagel with black coffee. It gave Arnie a quiet sense of triumph to defy Mr. Schmidt’s curt preferences, however modestly.

As he casually walked down the street, he considered where he should start. He paused in front of a local shop and smiled. He awkwardly ventured inside. He nearly had a panic attack!

The shop owner noticed the look of overwhelm on his face. Did you have anything in particular in mind? she asked.

Arnie shook his head as he peered into the glass display case and considered all the shiny options staring back at him. The owner picked up each one and explained the differences between them. Arnie had no idea so many choices existed.

Maybe Erik was right. Perhaps, he had been living in a time capsule. Arnie took the shop owner’s advice and selected something from the middle range price point. The owner scribbled the SKU number onto a small slip of paper and left to retrieve its brand-new twin from the back. While gone, Arnie feverishly removed several hundred-dollar bills from one of the ten-thousand-dollar stacks in his backpack and stuffed it into his wallet.

When the owner returned, she placed Arnie’s purchase into a small bag and entered the transaction into the register. I took the liberty of setting everything up for you.

Thanks, Arnie said with a nod as he removed a few crisp bills from his wallet and placed them on the counter. The woman eyed him curiously. A little birthday cash, Arnie added.

Nice. Happy birthday! the shop owner said, handing Arnie his change.

Arnie waved goodbye. He left the shop and pulled out his sleek new smartphone. Today’s going to be perfect!

Next, he stopped at his favorite video game store. He had fantasized about the newest offerings for months.

Arnie, my man! You’re right on time. Look at what just came in! a familiar employee greeted him jauntily.

Arnie followed the worker to the front of the store and watched as he pulled out a limited-edition game from an open shipping carton. They both gasped in delight and spent the next fifteen minutes debating how they would make it through the first four levels.

Well, one can dream, the employee said, staring deeply into the seductive but unattainable protective cover.

Nope! Not anymore, Arnie said. "Today, my dreams come true! I’ll take the new game and the latest console bundle."

The employee laughed. The two of them often joked about how they couldn’t afford most of the expensive inventory in the store. Arnie stared back at him with eager anticipation.

Oh! You’re serious? he asked. Arnie nodded. The employee discreetly leaned forward. Hey, man, that’s gonna cost like … He paused briefly to calculate the math in his head. When he decided upon an amount, he awkwardly cleared his throat, … thirteen hundred bucks … He paused dramatically while he waited for a response. When he didn’t get one, he added, And, that doesn’t even include tax!

Yeah, I know, Arnie said, whipping out his wallet and removing fifteen crisp hundred-dollar bills.

Oh … Right … I see, the employee said, scrambling to unlock the console from a display behind the counter. What did you do? Win the lottery or something?

Arnie laughed. Nah. Yesterday was my birthday.

Yeah? Well, congrats! the worker said, shaking off the shock. He resentfully turned his attention to the front counter so he could focus on ringing up the large sale. That must have been some birthday party, he muttered to himself as he scanned the items with agitated bewilderment.

Arnie, too distracted by his latest acquisitions, didn’t hear. The once-friendly employee begrudgingly handed over the purchases. He grumbled under his breath about the unfairness of life. His gaze followed Arnie until he disappeared from his line of sight. His only consolation? Arnie would likely never pass the third level of the new game without his expertise. When Arnie returned to the store for his help, perhaps he would help him. Perhaps, not …

Arnie gleefully trudged away from the video game store. His happiness instantly dwindled when he realized he wouldn’t get very far with such a large, awkward box in tow. He considered calling a cab, but he noticed a college student spinning a sign on the corner. Arnie smiled. He had his next destination!

He dragged his purchases across the respectable car lot, eager to unburden himself from the load he carried. A group of salesmen eyed him from a distance and openly laughed, all save one.

Hey, kid! You lost? one of the salesmen asked, still laughing.

No, I’m not lost. I need information.

This isn’t a library, he replied.

Again, the group laughed, except for a solitary younger salesman. Perhaps, Arnie reminded him of himself. Maybe, he felt sorry for him. In any event, he stepped forward, smiled, and offered to show Arnie around the car lot. Arnie quickly nodded in agreement.

The young salesman’s colleagues tried to convince him it would be a colossal waste of time, but he shook off the admonishment and directed Arnie to the opposing side of the car lot. As Arnie followed him, he noticed a beautiful, well-dressed woman arriving on site. He watched with childish amusement as she distracted the other sales guys with ease. As the distance between Arnie and them grew, he could hear the faint blubs of the men arguing over who would show her around the lot.

Arnie shook his head at their shameful exhibition and tried to concentrate on the young salesman who took great care to explain the difference among car models, various upgrades, and their current financing offers for recent graduates. He even volunteered to go inside and bring back some of their brochures, but Arnie declined.

What kind of car interests you most? the young salesman asked.

Arnie thought for a few moments. Something that is dependable in the long-term, has good safety features, and—

Let me guess … Something that doesn’t break the bank?

Arnie laughed as he pushed up his wayward eyeglasses. Well, that certainly wouldn’t hurt.

To his credit, the man showed off several vehicles that would most likely fit Arnie’s criteria, despite the fact he didn’t expect to make a sale today. He impressed Arnie with his car knowledge and courtesy.

Okay, Arnie said, extending his hand.

The young salesman thought Arnie wanted to cement a future deal. Thank you for your time. When you’re in the market to buy, please look me up, he said, reaching into his breast pocket to retrieve a business card.

No need, Arnie said. The man’s face flushed with embarrassment. Arnie pointed to a sporty, four-door sedan in silver. I’ll take that one.

Its practical safety features, dapper styling, and upscale cabin and trimmings won Arnie over. The man raised an eyebrow as if to chastise Arnie for jesting with him. When Arnie didn’t budge, he morphed his crinkled features into a professional smile. Of course, he said. Please follow me inside, and we can draw up the paperwork.

The young salesman took a deep breath as he watched several of his co-workers giggle from behind a large sign like a group of uncensured frat boys. He forced himself to remain calm as he directed Arnie inside, into a small communal office. Arnie sat in one of the empty chairs, dropping his backpack to his feet as he waited for the salesman to reappear with the necessary documents. He returned several minutes later, placed a stack of papers in front of Arnie, and orbited around a simple desk to face him.

I will have to see your identification and proof of employ.

Arnie removed his license from his wallet. He thought he heard the salesman sigh when he confirmed his legal age. Arnie hoped it was a sigh of relief.

And proof of employ, the man said again, returning Arnie’s license to him.

Arnie curled his spine and quietly unzipped his backpack. He pulled out three ten-thousand-dollar stacks and placed them on the desk. The young salesman gulped in disbelief, violently clasping the desk with his hands so he wouldn’t fall off his chair.

This should be the only proof of employ you need. As you can see, there is no need for me to apply for financing or for you to run my credit as I intend to pay in cash.

Right. Yes. I see.

Arnie watched as the man pulled out an ultraviolet light and hovered it over each of the stacks. It had never occurred to him that the money could have been counterfeit. Arnie almost fainted at the prospect. He looked on worriedly as all three hundred of the hundred-dollar bills glowed red. He wondered what that meant.

Well, they are authentic, the young salesman said, trying to tamp down his enthusiasm.

Of course, they are, Arnie said as nonchalantly as he could muster.

Well, the man said, smiling as he placed the three stacks into what Arnie assumed was a hidden drawer safe. Let’s get you a car!

Arnie signed the