“What is the show?” Master George asked, not having moved an inch at her command.
“Sit, George,” Jane replied. “You’ll see soon enough.”
Paul and Sofia sat down on either side of Tick, their faces looking half confused and half angry, and maybe a little curious as well. Tick couldn’t help but wonder what they were thinking. If the roles were reversed, would he think them selfish if they refused to fight Jane because they didn’t want to risk the lives of their families? He hoped not.
“Hey,” Paul whispered as he leaned toward him. “Look at that tree. It almost looks like it’s made of liquid or something. Does funny things to my eyes when I stare at it.”
Tick moved his eyes in that direction. The black sculpture was fascinating this close up. The tree was deeply dark, its details crisp, the edges finer than they naturally should be. Every branch, from the thick parts where they connected to the trunk to the needle-thin tips, which looked sharp enough to impale rock, almost seemed to move in an unseen breeze, tricking his vision as he scanned the sculpture from top to bottom, side to side.
“It is weird,” he finally said to Paul.
He felt like he wasn’t looking at something in the real world. It reminded him more of animation, something done with the most advanced computer technology available. It made him queasy; he finally looked away. Jane’s workers bustled about the area, checking dials and switches, typing on keyboards, adjusting the screens. But no one came within a few feet of the black tree. No one even appeared to look at it.
Maybe they are as terrified of it as we are, Tick thought. What could it possibly be?
Actually, one person was looking at it. Jane stood on the edge of the temporary complex, almost hidden from his sight by one of those movie screens. Arms folded, her mask showing that unreadable expression, she seemed to be concentrating on the tree. Tick would’ve given anything to see her real face at that moment, or better yet, to read her thoughts. What was going on here?
“Tick,” Sofia said quietly.
“What?” He cringed-he hadn’t meant to sound so harsh.
Sofia’s head snapped around to glare at him. “Okay, you know what, Atticus? I know they have your family, and I know you’re stressed to the max. But being rude to us isn’t gonna help anybody.”
Tick knew she was right, and for about three seconds hated her for it. “Sorry,” he finally muttered.
“It’s fine. Listen, what can you do with this power of yours? The Chi’karda. We haven’t really had much chance to talk about it.”
Paul leaned forward to put his elbows on his knees, looking their way. “Yeah, man, it seems like you learned a lot more about it since last time you gave us an update on e-mail.”
Tick shook his head. He didn’t really want to talk about it, but he forced himself to do it, hoping he could get his mind off his family. “It’s crazy. I feel this really warm burning in my chest, like hot air is swirling around in there. In my basement, I concentrated on it, tried to picture things in my mind. Like it was something I could grab with my hands-my pretend hands, I guess. Then I threw it at her. It was all mental-just like acting out images in my head.”
“I couldn’t really tell what was happening,” Sofia said. “I felt something, like a big surge of energy or electricity. And I could tell Jane was struggling against an invisible wall of whatever. But it wasn’t like you were shooting balls of fire.”
“Yeah,” Paul added. “Why can’t you just shoot balls of fire? That’d be nice.”
Tick ignored that, trying to decide if he dared say what he’d just thought. “Well, there might be something.”
Sofia gave him a puzzled look. “What?”
“You know how she keeps saying she can sense when I use the Chi’karda?”
Sofia and Paul both nodded.
“I think she might be bluffing.”
“Really?” Paul asked. “Why?”
Tick tapped his chest. “There have been a few times when it swelled up inside me, and I had to fight it off. She never said a word about it.”
“Maybe she can’t sense it unless you actually use it,” Sofia suggested. “Or throw it, or whatever it is you do.”
“Yeah,” Tick said. “Still, maybe I can play with it a little bit. Test it out a little and see if she says anything. I bet she’d give me a warning before she actually did something to my family.”
Paul grunted. “Dude, you sure you wanna risk that?”
Tick looked at him, surprised at how glad he was Paul had asked that. He hoped Sofia felt the same. He hoped they understood how careful he had to be.
“No, but I think I have to try. Next time I can trigger something in here”-he tapped his chest again-“I’ll try it a little.”
Sofia looked like she was about to respond when a loud humming sound cut her off.
Tick’s hands instinctively covered his ears. It wasn’t so much the volume of the sound as the vibration of it. A deep, thrumming toll, like a massive bell had been struck just feet away. The noise had an underlying buzz, too, as if the same bell had upset a nest of gigantic wasps.
“What is that?” Paul shouted.
Tick didn’t know for sure, but it seemed like the source of the horrible sound was coming from…
He saw dust and pebbles bouncing on the ground. He had no doubt.
It was coming from the black tree.
Chapter 20
Disturbances
It took a lot of persuading, but Sato finally convinced Mothball and Rutger to accept Tollaseat’s offer to stay overnight and return to headquarters the next morning. They were anxious to get back and hear about the results of some secret meeting Master George had run off to, but agreed that one night wouldn’t hurt.
But the promise of a warm fire in a cozy house, and the promise of more desserts from Tollaseat-maybe even a story or two-sealed the deal. And Sato loved the idea of sleeping in one of the gigantic-and soft-beds upstairs. His cot back in the Bermuda Triangle always made him feel like he’d slept on a concrete floor.
They’d just sat down in the living room, plates of cheesecake balanced on their laps, cups of hot tea steaming on the end tables, and a large fire crackling in the brick hearth, when Rutger brought up for the tenth time what Sato had said earlier about wanting to help in the fight against the Bugaboo soldiers.
“What made you say that?” the man asked, not caring that his mouth was full of cake. “You were just being nice, right?”
“I thought it a very kind gesture, indeed,” Windasill said. She held her cup right below her lips and blew across the hot tea.
“Why do you keep asking me about it?” Sato turned to Rutger. “It just ticks me off that they’ve done so many bad things. I want to help. Why is that so hard for you to get?”
“I just meant-”
“Isn’t that what we’re about?” Sato snapped. “The Realitants? Aren’t we supposed to help people?”
Rutger’s eyes widened in surprise. “Well, yes. Of course it is.”
“Then quit asking.” Sato forked a bite of cheesecake into his mouth, then took a sip from his cup.
He had no idea why he felt so edgy and irritated. He shouldn’t feel embarrassed that the real reason he wanted to help was because of Tollaseat’s story about watching his own father be killed. No one had been there to help Sato when the same tragedy had happened to him. He felt obligated, but not in a forceful, guilty way. It was more that he felt a connection to Tollaseat that wouldn’t go away.
For the first time, his feelings solidified into one easy statement in his mind: He wanted revenge. And by fighting the Bugs who had killed Tollaseat’s father and were connected with the woman who had killed his own father, maybe he could find it.
“Sorry, Sato,” Rutger said. “I didn’t mean it as an insult. The opposite, actually. I was impressed, and that made me curious as to what was behind it. I’ll shut up now.”
“That’d be perfect,” Sato said, trying to soften his words with a smile,
trying to return to the good mood of his earlier determination to fight the Bugs and his excitement at spending the night in the Fifth Reality. “Seriously, I mean it, though. Tollaseat, I’m going to get permission from George to come back and help. Whatever I can do.”
Tollaseat bowed his head in a deep nod. “I’m quite honored, Master Sato. I’ll ask around town for ways you…”
He trailed off, slowly lowering his cup back to the small table next to his chair. He looked confused.
“What is it, dear?” Windasill asked.
“What?” He focused on her. “Oh, well, I just had a thought. People will see that Sato here is a dead ringer for our deceased leader. Don’t know how we can get around that.”
“Makes a good point, he does,” Mothball said. “Sato, not sure we can be doin’ that. Quite risky. Might make folks talk and wonder.”
Sato couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of that very problem. How would that work to have someone come along who was the Alterant of your dead leader? He felt a pit of disappointment open up in his stomach.
“No matter,” Tollaseat said, waving his hand in the air. “Think on it, no rush. Things have been quite cool of late, not too many problems with the ruddy Bugs. Mayhaps when you get a bit older, look a bit different, when it’s… less obvious you’re not from these parts and couldn’t be him.”
Rutger suddenly chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” Mothball asked.
Rutger shrugged. “Could be quite a sight. Those clowns seeing their victim come back from the dead. Maybe they’d-”
A loud, horrible crash and the crunch of shattered glass cut him off. Sato jumped up, looking over in time to see hundreds of shards from the big window that overlooked the front yard blow inward, the glass bouncing and clinking off furniture as it fell to the floor.
Mothball’s mom yelped; Tollaseat called out something, but Sato couldn’t tell what he’d said. Rutger, who had been the closest to the window, seemed too shocked to move. Pieces of glass glittered in his hair and on his shoulders.
Everyone stared at the empty window as if waiting for someone to jump up and explain what had happened. In the silence, Sato heard the distant sounds of glass breaking in other parts of the house. Then, from outside, came a low, repeating pulse of noise, some kind of deep buzz or static, surging in short waves. He almost felt it more than heard it with his ears.
“What’s going on?” Sato asked. “What is that noise?”
“No ruddy idea,” Mothball answered.
The sound grew and intensified, making Sato’s head hurt. “What shou-”
He fell to the floor as the whole house started to shake and tremble.
Tick sat still, transfixed by the humming, throbbing black tree. Its waves of energy were almost visible to some sixth sense he didn’t quite understand. Since the noise had started, none of his friends had said a word, and Tick was sure they were as mesmerized and scared as he was.
The man Jane had called Frazier Gunn was walking from screen to screen, flicking the thin metal bar of each spinner that was attached to the exact center. He moved on without even waiting to make sure the spinner worked. As if by magic, and certainly by a technology Tick didn’t understand, the metal rods spun faster and faster, despite the seeming lack of any motor.
A shimmering silver disk, maybe four inches wide, appeared. Once the spinner hit full speed, a much larger, red-tinted projection shot out, creating a wide, hazy circle that covered most of the screen behind it. Only the white corners of the squares were visible. Tick knew that soon those red circles would turn into video feeds, as clear in quality as any movie he’d ever seen.
Just as Frazier flicked the last spinner, Mistress Jane came over to Tick and the others, seemingly done with whatever she’d been doing to make the menacing black tree hum as it did. She stopped a few feet in front of their line of chairs, her red mask looking somewhat weary. She stared directly at Tick.
“I’m going to explain everything to you,” she said, her voice tight. Strained. “And this isn’t some example of the bad guys telling the good guys the whole diabolical plan just in time for them to escape and save the day. No, I want you to know. Every last detail. Once you do, and once you witness the extent of my power, I’ll set you free so you can tell the other Realitants and spread the word throughout each world. Everyone must know what I’m capable of, and the reasons why it must happen.”
She paused, and the eyes of her mask, dark and deep, never wavered from Tick. “Correction. I’m going to set most of you free to spread the word. Atticus stays with me.”
Tick stood up, not sure where the courage came from. “What? Why? You promised you’d let me and my family go if I didn’t try to stop you.”
Jane’s scarred hand shot out from beneath the folds of her robe, her palm outward. At the same instant, Tick flew backward, hit by an unseen force that thumped him in the chest. He fell into his chair and toppled over, banging his head against the dusty, hard ground. Shaking it off, he scrambled to his feet and picked up his chair. Glaring at Jane, he took a seat, hating himself for being such a wimp. Not an ounce of Chi’karda flickered inside him.
Jane’s mask was a sneer. “I never made any such promise of letting you free, Atticus. Only your family. Now stay silent, or I’ll get rid of one of your sisters.”
Tick gripped the sides of his chair to stop his hands from shaking. He had to do something. This wasn’t right, letting this woman treat them this way. He had to do something!
Jane continued with her speech as if nothing had happened. “What you’ll be witnessing today is the first fully functional use of the most mysterious substance in the universe. Most scientists throughout the Realities don’t even know what it is, much less how to use it.”
“What are you talking about?” Master George said.
Jane didn’t take her eyes off Tick, answering her former boss without so much as the courtesy of a glance. “George, as usual, you speak to me with your condescending, I-know-more-than-you-do arrogance. Now shut up.”
Tick looked over at Master George, shocked at how childishly rude Jane’s command had been. The old man glowered, his face redder than ever, his lips quivering despite being pressed together so hard they were almost white. But he didn’t say anything.
“The Blade Tree before you,” Jane continued, her expression still angry, “is made from the substance I was trying to tell you about before being so rudely interrupted. No tool of modern science could’ve accomplished such a thing as creating this object, I assure you. It took my ever-growing skills-fostered from my connection with the Thirteenth Reality-along with the additional powers granted to me by being unified with Chu’s Dark Infinity, and an understanding of physics only my innate brilliance combined with a lifetime of study could accomplish.”
She leaned closer to Tick. “Think on this, Atticus. As great as my gifts over Chi’karda have become, I could not have done this without the catalyst and boosting power of Chu’s failed mechanism. In many ways, you are my partner. Think on that as you see what’s about to happen.”
She knelt down before him, reached out her disgusting right hand, and placed it on Tick’s knee. Even through his jeans, he could feel the roughness of her palm, the tiny pricks of metal jutting out from her skin. Though every instinct told him to get up, scream, and run as far away as possible, he refused to cower away from her.
Jane’s mask melted and flowed into an evil grin.
“Yes, Atticus,” she said in a mockingly gentle voice. “Think on what you did to me as you watch billions of people in the Fifth Reality die.”
Tick had hoped deep down that she hadn’t meant it when she’d said her plan was to destroy an entire planet. But the demented tone of her next statement erased all doubt-and hope.
“Billions, Atticus. Billions.”
Chapter 21
The Unleashing
The constant, terrible, pulsing waves of sound increased in volume, rattling Sato’s skull as the earthq
uake’s intensity slowly escalated.
He crawled toward Windasill, unable to get back to his feet. The house shook like a ship at sea, thrown about by massive waves and wind. Things crashed all around them: lamps, dishes, picture frames, decorative trinkets of glass. Their remains littered the floor, sharp and vicious. Sato picked through the wreckage, ignoring the pricks of pain, the feel of moistness on his palms. He refused to look down, hoping it was sweat, not blood.
He’d seen Windasill fall but hadn’t heard a peep from her since. With no idea where Mothball, Rutger, and Tollaseat had gone off to, Sato could only think to try to help where he could. Windasill.
He rounded an overturned cabinet, the large wooden drawers spilling out. Windasill was on the floor, lying on her side, a trickle of blood running from her mouth. Her eyes were closed, but her chest rose and fell with deep breaths.
“Windasill!” he yelled. When she didn’t respond, he lurched forward. He felt like he was trying to move with three extra arms and legs. Thumping to the floor next to her, he smashed his nose against the ground. Somehow, despite the world shaking all around him, he got his arms around her and lifted her head into his lap as he sat up.
“Windasill!” he shouted again.
A moan escaped her, and her eyes flickered open. “What’s happening?” she whispered.
Sato wouldn’t have understood if he hadn’t been able to see her lips mouth the words. “I don’t know!” he shouted back. “I-”
“Sato!”
Mothball’s voice. He turned his head to see her and Rutger at the front door, the two of them clutching the doorframe as their bodies swayed back and forth, constantly bumping into each other. He could see past them to the trees whipping in the wind. The sky was dark, only a few stars barely bright enough to flicker.
How had he gotten here? He thought he’d been moving toward the kitchen, toward the back of the house. “Where’s your dad?” he yelled, completely disoriented.
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