The Blade of Shattered Hope (The 13th Reality #3) (20 page)

“Good.” The Haunce’s orb of light expanded then retracted, as if it had taken a deep breath. The ever-changing faces spoke. “We are here because terrible things have happened in the Realities over the last few hours. When it became apparent that we must reveal ourselves, we chose you. The reason for that choice is something we may not have time to explain, but we shall see.”

Tick didn’t say anything, but he scrunched up his face in confusion, hoping the entity would change its mind. Whatever this ghostly visage was, why would it have chosen
him
of all people to appear to? Tick wanted to know the answer to that question very badly, but he forced himself to remain silent and listen intently as the Haunce continued speaking.

“We come to you now because enormous and catastrophic disturbances have shattered the barriers of the Realities. We know this because we are
part
of the barriers, interwoven into the Chi’karda that has served to bind the Realities together and build the wall to keep them apart. If we had not acted quickly, we might have been destroyed and the memories of billions upon billions of lives would have been obliterated. But we escaped before the worst of it happened.”

The Haunce paused, flashing three different faces before a weary-eyed man with a short-cropped beard appeared and spoke. “We never would have thought it possible that someone could harness, much less control, the dark matter as the woman named Mistress Jane has done. Even we do not understand its properties to the fullest. And yet, she has unleashed it, annihilating the bonds between the Realities and sending them to drift apart from one another. What she does not understand is that soon the fragmenting will begin. In
every
Reality. A human body cannot survive when separated into pieces; the Realities are no different. What she has done will lead to the end of everything as we know it. The end of existence.”

Tick felt a leprous lump growing in his belly. Although he didn’t understand the nitty-gritty details, not to mention any of the logistics or complex science of what the Haunce was describing, he was smart enough to connect the dots. Mistress Jane had said from the start that she was going to sever the Fifth Reality and destroy it. From what the Haunce had just said, Tick suspected Jane must have accidentally enacted her diabolical plan on every last Reality.

And then Tick had another thought, perhaps the worst thought to ever cross the pathways of his mind. What if
he
had done this? What if his little exercise in throwing a trickle of Chi’karda into the black tree, into the dark matter that made up the Blade of Shattered Hope, had somehow disrupted Jane’s plan? What if, by trying to help, he’d made it worse—infinitely worse? His more rational side had told him he wasn’t ready to try something so foolish. Why hadn’t he listened?

The lump inside him grew, filling his body with acid. He’d spent the last few months trying to ensure he never repeated anything like what he’d done in Chu’s mountain palace. But if he’d just helped destroy every last Reality, that made the fiasco with Chu’s Dark Infinity and Mistress Jane look like a food fight. Panic and worry consumed him.

“Atticus,” the Haunce said. “We can feel your thoughts. We can feel your mind and see this dark path which you choose to walk. You must stop. Immediately. You do not understand even the slightest parcel of the whole.”

Tick was staring at the floor. He didn’t remember looking away from the Haunce, but he returned his gaze to the glowing entity at its words. He sensed some hope, maybe some redemption, in what it had said.

A young woman stared back at him, her face full of compassion. Tick wished desperately she could stay, that her face not change. But a few seconds later it slipped into an older man, the kind look not as reassuring on him.

“We are soulikens, Atticus,” the Haunce said. “Do you know what that means?”

Tick shook his head.

“We sense in your memories that you have recently come to understand the heart of the human body and how the power of electricity is vital to its life-giving properties. Without electricity, the heart would not pump. If the heart did not pump, blood would not flow. And if the blood did not flow, there would be no life.”

Tick nodded, surprised by this turn in the conversation, but intrigued.

“Most people do not understand that electricity is a natural phenomenon,” the Haunce continued. “Much of its uses are unknown and immeasurable to scientists. Similar to how Chi’karda is not understood by most quantum physicists in the Realities, except for those who have joined ranks with the Realitants. Electricity is the key. Electronic pulses. Electronic imprints. They intertwine with almost every function of your mind and body, creating permanent stamps in the fabric of Reality—of time and space—that represent the person from whence they came.”

The Haunce paused, and Tick realized if he moved one more inch forward, he’d fall out of his chair. After an interminable few seconds, the glowing pool of faces continued.

“
That
is what soulikens are, Atticus. They are your imprints on the universe, and they can never be erased. They pool together every second of your life, collecting and gathering and forming into something that is undeniably as much you as . . . you. That is what we are. We are the soulikens of billions of people, a bank of memories and thoughts and feelings. We give life to the spaces between the atoms and neutrons and electrons. We give life to the universe of quantum physics. We give life to Chi’karda.”

Tick stared at the morphing faces, completely and utterly engrossed in every word.

But then the faces frowned, the endless eyes filled with a deep sadness.

“What’s wrong?” Tick asked quickly.

The Haunce wiped away the frown, but it still looked unhappy. “It works both ways, Atticus. The Chi’karda also gives us life. One cannot exist without the other. Mistress Jane has severed the Realities from one another, destroying the bonds between them. And when the fragmenting begins, when all of Reality begins to fall to the lasting and eternal grip of entropy, so will we. Everything will end. Everything.”

Tick didn’t know how to respond. Impossibly, he almost felt as if his grief and worry for this collection of ghosts was as strong as his concern for his family. He was starting to understand that what Jane had done would not only kill all those living today, but also all those who had lived in the past. It would be a holocaust of all time and of all people, of all thoughts and ideas and memories. Everything would be wiped away into the oblivion of dark matter.

The Haunce spoke again, snapping him back to attention.

“But not all is lost.”

“What do you mean?” Tick asked.

“We believe there is someone who can save us. Save the Realities.”

Tick had the horrible feeling he already knew the answer, but he asked anyway. “Who?”

The Haunce glowed brightly. “You.”

~

Sato and Mothball stared at each other for what seemed like a full hour, eyes locked, eyebrows raised. She was filthy from head to toe, her hair hanging in ratty strings to her shoulders. Sato kept thinking she’d disappear any second, sure that he was having a hallucination. The staring became almost comical. Especially when she broke into a grin and simply said, “’Ello.”

Hearing her speak snapped Sato from his trance. “Mothball! What are you doing here? Where are we? What happened to everyone else?”

Mothball limped forward, eyeing Lisa as if she’d just noticed Tick’s sister was there. “No idea what’s ’appened. Felt like I’ve been nappin’ for a full week, just woke up, and ’ere I am in a ruddy place that can’t possibly exist. How long you been ’ere?”

Sato realized he had no clue. “I . . . don’t know. Maybe an hour? I wasn’t here very long before Lisa showed up. By the way, this is Tick’s sister.”

Mothball couldn’t hide her surprise. “What in the name of the Grand Minister is Tick’s wee little sis doin’ ’ere?”

“Nice to meet you too,” Lisa said in deadpan voice.

“So sorry,” she said quickly, holding out one of her gigantic hands. After Lisa shook it, Mothball continued. “Just surprised, is all. What are the ruddy chances of us meetin’ ’ere with you?”

Lisa shook her head. “You think you’re confused? Guess how I feel.”

Sato felt it too. Everything seemed to have gone completely insane. He turned in a circle, throwing his arms up to gesture at their strange surroundings. “Where could this possibly be? What is it? Why would the three of us—”

Before he could finish, that same humming noise vibrated through the air, this time coming from a spot directly in front of him. At the same time, a dark blue square of marble rotated on an unseen axis, completely turning over until what had been the bottom was now the top, though with dark-red squiggly lines scratched across its surface. As soon as the tile settled into place, a person appeared on the marble square, instantly flashing into existence.

It was Mothball’s mom, Windasill.

Sato swore right then he was done being surprised.

Mothball ran to her mom and pulled her into a massive hug as Windasill looked about in confusion.

“Don’t worry,” Mothball said after stepping back. “None of us know a ruddy thing, but thank the heavens we’re together. Mayhaps the old man’ll show up soon, he will.”

“It was so dreadful,” Windasill said after giving her daughter the kindest smile Sato thought he’d ever seen. “The shaking, the lightning. Last thing I remember, a bolt of energy came straight down on me head. Burned like the dickens, it did. Then it was dark, like sleep. I was barely aware. Next thing I know, I’m ’ere. Mothball, what’s going on, dear?”

“Don’t know.” She shrugged and looked at Sato.

“Me, neither,” Sato murmured.

“Does anyone at least have a guess?” Lisa asked. “Come on. You guys are Realitants, right? At least take a wild stab at it.”

Sato was impressed with Tick’s sister. She was no nonsense, level-headed. Brave. Tick had once made her out to be a smart-aleck pain in the rear. Maybe hard times had brought out her inner strength.

“Well?” Lisa said.

“If I ’ad to make a guess,” Mothball said, folding her arms as her eyes revealed she was frantically trying to come up with an answer. “I reckon I’d say that . . . well, me instincts tell me that . . . if that lightning was . . . mayhaps it could’ve been . . . if you think about it . . .”

Luckily, another humming sound saved her. Sato looked to his right just in time to see a light green, marble square settle into place after rotating. An instant later, Rutger appeared, sitting on his bum in his black pants and black shirt, looking as frightened as Sato had ever seen him.

“What happened?” he yelled, scrambling to get his short legs under him. He looked so much like a huge ball pitching back and forth on two sticks that Sato worried what Lisa would think. He’d grown quite fond of Rutger, despite the constant teasing, and he always worried when the short man met new people. But Lisa seemed completely at ease, and his esteem for her went up another notch.

Before anyone could answer Rutger’s inquiry, another humming sounded. Sato didn’t look around in time to see the marble rotate, but about forty feet behind him, Tollaseat had appeared.

Windasill’s shriek of delight had barely pierced the air when there came another humming. Then another. Then another. Sato was spinning in circles trying to catch sight of all the flipping tiles. People appeared each time, people he didn’t know. Most of them were tall like Mothball and obviously from the Fifth. Hum, hum, hum—the sound blended together into a resonating vibration that strangely soothed his nerves.

Suddenly it was like musical popcorn. More and more and more marble slabs spun in ninety degrees all around him, changing colors as they did so, while a stunned, often dirty, sometimes injured person winked into existence on top. Sato finally quit trying to take it all in and instead focused on Mothball, then Rutger. Both of them were gawking at the strange sight around them, but Lisa was staring straight at him.

She raised her eyebrows in an unspoken question.

“You know I don’t know what’s going on,” Sato said. “Let’s just hope none of these people are maniacs bent on killing us.”

“I just don’t . . .” She trailed off, her eyes focusing on something past Sato’s shoulder. They widened in surprise, then shock, then a huge smile wiped the anguish and confusion off her face.

“What?” he asked, already turning to see what she’d discovered.

Lisa shrieked with joy, brushing past him and sprinting toward a group of shorter people—compared to the Fifths anyway—a heavyset man, a brown-haired woman, and a little girl.

It had to be Kayla. And Tick’s parents, too.

Sato hurried after Lisa, feeling a rush of excitement at meeting Tick’s family, somehow putting out of his mind that they were all standing in an impossible place with no explanation of how they’d gotten there.

Lisa reached her family and practically tackled Kayla, pulling her into a tight embrace and twirling her around. Their mom and dad soon joined in, a group of entwined arms, jumping up and down and laughing. It was one of the sweetest things Sato had ever seen.

When he reached them, he stopped, wondering if maybe he should’ve left them alone to their reunion.

Lisa saw him and broke apart from the vise of her dad’s arms. “Mom, Dad—this is Tick’s friend Sato.” She reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling him closer for the introductions.

“I’m Edgar,” her dad said, taking Sato’s hand and shaking it vigorously. “I don’t know where we are or how we got here, but I’m honored to meet one of my son’s partners in crime.”

“Nice . . . nice to meet you,” Sato managed to mumble. Everything suddenly felt like a dream.

Tick’s mom pulled Sato into a long hug, then looked at him as she squeezed his shoulders. “I’m Lorena, and it’s an honor indeed. Atticus told us about your parents and what happened to them. I was so sorry to hear the news. Your mom and I were dear, dear friends for many years. But after I left the Realitants, I had no choice but to lose touch with her. It has been one of the biggest regrets of my life.”