The Blade of Shattered Hope (The 13th Reality #3) (12 page)

He only nodded again, but some of the color had returned to his face.

“Any potential problems?”

“Well, Mistress,” he said, croaking a bit on the last syl-lable. He cleared his throat. “The coordinates in each Reality were in pretty remote areas, except for two. Your Alterant in Prime is in a basement, and in the Seventh, in the bottom floor of a parking garage. I left a couple of Sleeks in each of those locations to guard against potential intruders. As long as we stay on schedule, we should be okay.”

Mistress Jane nodded slowly, pleased. If Frazier was correct, all the pieces were in place and everything else was up to her. All she needed was the Blade Tree, her witnesses, a quick wink to where she needed to go, and a few minutes of the most intense concentration she would ever embark upon.

She stood from the chair and held a hand out to Frazier. “Then I think we’re ready to induce the Blade of Shattered Hope.”

Frazier took her hand without the slightest hesitation, even though the hideous scars and melded chunks of gold were plainly evident. His touch warmed her, and the fact that he had no reservations or prejudice against her new nature . . .

That meant something. She felt ashamed of how she’d treated him earlier.

“Frazier,” she said, pulling him up from the couch so he stood in front of her, just inches away. Her mask flowed into the most sincere smile she could conjure up in her mind. “You’ll be by my side when we do this. Agreed?”

A trickle of . . . something pricked her heart when she saw tears glisten his eyes.

“Yes, Mistress,” he said. “I’d be more honored than words can say.”

“Good. Then let’s go change the Realities once and for all.”

~

When Tick woke up, his parents had disappeared from the prison cell.

At first, he didn’t quite notice, his mind still numb from sleep. Almost absently, he scanned the dimly lit room from left to right, expecting them to be
somewhere.
Huddled in a corner, maybe. Or hidden behind Master George, Paul, or Sofia, still dozing. Veiled in a shadow to which his eyes hadn’t adjusted quite yet.

But then it hit him. They were gone.

His body jerked to full awareness like a bucket of water had been dumped on his head, and he jumped to his feet. “Where’s my mom and dad? Where’s my mom and dad!”

The others stirred, his shouts waking them.

“Huh?” Paul said groggily.

Sofia was looking around the room, much like he’d done just moments earlier. Master George grunted as he got to his feet, also searching with his eyes.

“Goodness gracious me,” he said. “Where could they have gone off to?”

“We would’ve heard the door open,” Sofia said. “No way we could’ve missed that.”

That familiar panicky feeling threatened to consume Tick. “Where could they be?” He ran over to the bars of the cell, gripped his hands around the cold iron. “Mom! Dad!
Mooooom! Daaaaad!
”

First his sisters were taken, hidden in any one of who-knew-how-many horrible places. Now his parents were gone. “This can’t be happening,” he murmured, whispering it over and over. Then, “I’m gonna stop her. Once and for all, I’m gonna stop her.”

“Calm down, Atticus,” Master George said, hurrying to his side and placing a hand on his shoulder. “Remember the whole point of why Jane took your sisters. To
prevent
you from doing anything reckless.”

For the first time since they’d left the basement of his house, Tick felt the surging boil of Chi’karda within him, burning and growing. But he also knew that Master George was right—he couldn’t take a risk. Not now, not yet. Closing his eyes and concentrating with all his might, he pushed the power away, urged it to cool and dissolve.

“Why would she have taken my parents?” he asked when he felt the episode was safely over. “Why now?”

“I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough,” Paul said. He stepped up next to Tick and squeezed his arm. “Sorry, dude. Seriously, though, we’ll figure this out. We’ve been in worse shape, haven’t we? We’re like superheroes, man—we’ll win this time, too.”

Sofia walked over and hugged Tick, squeezing him tightly. Surprised, it took him a second before he squeezed back.

“Paul’s an idiot,” she said as she let go and stepped back. “And he never knows how to say anything. But he’s right. We’ll get your family back, don’t worry. There’s no way she’ll . . . hurt them. Then she’d have nothing to threaten you with. I think she’s terrified of you.”

“Terrified?” a voice asked behind him.

Tick spun around to see Mistress Jane standing in the hallway, her red mask glaring at them with eyebrows raised.

“Where are they?” he shouted at her.

“They are safe for now,” she replied, her face melting back into that non-expression she wore most of the time. “I decided there were too many of you to keep track of. Plus, your parents have been winked to a different location than where your sisters are. I now have double collateral to hang over your head. I sense even a spark of Chi’karda surge out of you, and one of them dies. On and on until they’re all dead. If something bad happens to me, they all die at once. I trust you’ll not test me on this.”

Tick fumed more with every word that popped out of her mouth. It took all his concentration to keep the warmth from igniting to pure heat inside his chest. But he also felt a slight glimmer of hope. Based on what she’d said, it seemed like she couldn’t sense his surges of Chi’karda as long as he kept them at bay. Maybe, when the time was right, he could let the power build and build, unleashing it all in one powerful explosion before she could react or send a message to anyone.

What am I thinking?
he thought.
I don’t even know what I’m talking about. I can’t control this stuff.
It was just as likely he’d kill himself and his friends as it was he’d kill Jane.

“I’ll take your silence as a sign that you understand the situation.” Jane’s arm shifted slightly, and the lock on the door sprung open with a loud click. The metal hinges groaned and squealed, and the door swung open. “And the same goes for any one of you. Try anything, and Tick’s family will suffer the consequences. If we run out of Higginbottoms, we’ll just have to do some hunting for Pacinis and Rogers. Or perhaps the tall ugly woman and her little pet, the ball of fat named Rutger. Do we all understand one another?”

When no one responded, Jane’s scream pierced the air like a burst of thunder.
“Answer me!”

“Yes,” Tick said quickly, as did Paul and Sofia. The best she got out of Master George was a firm nod.

Jane stepped through the door and into the cell, standing very close to Tick. “We will be winking to a specific location here in the Thirteenth. Frazier has set up several spinners and monitors so all of you can best witness what happens today. When it’s over, you’ll spread the word, and we can begin the process of my taking over the Realities and putting the Utopia Initiative into full swing.”

Master George laughed, a slow, condescending chuckle. Tick braced himself for Jane’s reaction. He didn’t see what was funny. Though he didn’t know what she was talking about, her words had been like icy daggers scraping down his spine. She had something terrible planned, no doubt about it.

But Jane didn’t explode with her usual anger. “Laugh all you want, George. Giggle, chortle, snicker, whatever pleases you most. A couple of hours from now, when you see what I do, you may never make such jolly sounds ever again. The Blade of Shattered Hope, George. Soulikens. Dark Matter. These are things you aren’t even close to understanding yet.”

Master George’s face now showed no humor whatsoever. It burned red, almost as if he wore his own mask. “Words, Jane. Anyone can say fancy words, trying their best to sound smarter than others. You keep telling us you have this
diabolical
plan. Well, then, what is it?”

Jane paused before answering, the corners of her metallic lips curving upward slightly. “I’m going to destroy the Fifth Reality.”

Master George huffed. “Destroy it? What kind of nonsense is this? A mess of atomic bombs come across your path recently?”

Jane’s mask turned a darker shade of red, something Tick hadn’t thought possible. However, her expression didn’t change. It was still set in that mocking half-smile. For a long time, she just stared at Master George.

“Jane,” he finally said, “I worry your mind has slipped down a slope from which it can’t be saved.”

“You mistake my silence, George,” Jane replied. “I’m surprised, actually. I’m baffled that you could be so short-sighted. So . . .
stupid.
”

“What exactly is
that
supposed to mean?”

“Do you really not understand my power over Chi’karda? Even before my . . .
union
with the core of Dark Infinity, I almost had the ability to do what I plan for today. Now, it will be done with absolute certainty.”

“Well,” Sofia chimed in, “quit talking about it and tell us what your big bad plan is.”

Tick winced. She and Master George weren’t being smart about this. Couldn’t they see that Jane was deadly serious? Ticking her off even more was a very, very bad idea. But when Jane responded, her voice was as calm and collected as anything Tick had ever heard come out of her mouth.

“The Blade of Shattered Hope will collect every souliken from my Alterants, channel them into the necessary components, and ignite the dark matter within. The Blade will then
slice
the Fifth Reality from existence. Forever.” She paused, then took a step forward. “Let me say it slowly for you, George. The Fifth will . . . be . . . no . . . more.”

~

As Sato devoured his third helping of the duck dumpling stew, he realized he’d gone at least five minutes without thinking about the whole nonsense of his Alterant being the ruler of a Reality before being murdered. There is something about tasty food that tends to wash your troubles away. And Tollaseat’s food was, without hesitation or doubt, the most excellent stuff Sato had ever put in his mouth.

“This is good,” he mumbled between bites, probably having said those three words a dozen times by now. “This is really good.”

“Glad ya like it, I am.” Tollaseat leaned back in his chair and puffed on his pipe. He’d lit it after eating only one helping, and seemed to be enjoying every second of watching Sato eat like a starved hyena.

“Quite good, it was,” Mothball pitched in, folding her arms and looking very satisfied.

Surprisingly, even Rutger—who was propped up on at least three pillows and a very large book—was finished, wiping his mouth and laying the napkin on his bowl. “Sato, I had no idea you could stuff your face like that. You’d make my mama proud.”

Windasill grinned as she leaned forward and reached for the ladle in the big pot of stew. “Care for another helping, Master Sato?”

Suddenly, as if a switch had been flicked inside of him, Sato realized he was terribly, horribly, awfully full. He dropped his spoon and looked up, hoping the feeling that he might explode at any second didn’t show on his face. “No, thanks. I think I might’ve taken one bite too many.”

“Oh, rubbish,” she said through an exaggerated frown. “There’s always room for more duck dumpling stew. Isn’t there, my sweet?” She glanced over at Tollaseat.

Mothball’s dad puffed out a big cloud of wispy smoke. “Methinks the lad’s proven himself quite nicely, me love. Let him rest up an hour or two. Then we’ll bring out the
desserts.
” He emphasized the last word in a roar with his wide eyes twinkling. He put the pipe back into his mouth and chuckled lightly.

The thought of dessert almost put Sato over the edge. “Sounds great,” he managed to get out.

“Tell us a story,” Mothball said, looking at her dad. “Been quite some time since we’ve ’eard you make somethin’ up ’bout the war years, it ’as. Sato ’ere might enjoy your boastin’ for awhile.” She looked over at Sato and winked. “Won’t quite know what’s true and what’s not, but it’s fun to listen to, ya can trust me on that one.”

Rutger pounded the table. “I second the motion. After a meal like that, a body needs to hear a good tale or two.”

Tollaseat scrunched up his face into something very serious, looking around the room at each person in turn. “Wanna hear a story, do ya?”

“Yeah,” Sato said at the same time as everyone else. He was surprised at himself, but he suddenly wanted nothing more than to hear this tall, kind man tell stories about the old days, even though those old days would be very different from days in Reality Prime.

Tollaseat leaned back, his chair creaking, and shifted so that the elbow supporting his pipe-holding hand rested on the other arm. He took a puff or two then started talking, swirls of wispy smoke slowly drifting toward the ceiling.

“Back when I was a wee lad, barely ten and six—that’s sixteen to you, Master Sato—just when the growin’ pains started stretching me arms and legs, life was sweet and terrible. Sweet in that me mum and dad were alive and well, the crops were growin’ right sprightly, and I’d just met me future love”—he nodded toward Windasill—“at the August Festie. But it was terrible, too, yes indeed. That ruddy summer marked the worst we’d had yet with the Bugs, it did.”

He coughed and reached out for a sip of water before taking another puff from his pipe. “Late one night, I was sleepin’ nice and cozy in me bed, dreamin’ of good days to come. Mayhaps dreamin’ about Windasill, even. Most of the fightin’ with them nasty Bugs was off in the far country, ya see—just frightenin’ tales and rumors to the likes of us, it was. But we knew things were quite bad, and that blokes like myself might have to run off and get to soldierin’ and whatnot. But that night, all was well when I put on me long johns and dozed to the soft sounds of the breeze and the stream out back.

“But then came the knock on the door.” He leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table. “Woke me right up, it did. I remember sittin’ up, perkin’ me ears. Heard the footsteps of me dad, heard the door creak as it swung open, heard the murmurs of conversation, though I couldn’t make out any words. Then . . .”