The Blade of Shattered Hope (The 13th Reality #3) (27 page)

As soon as the dark forest vanished, replaced by the inner workings of his cramped Control Room with its bright monitors and blinking instruments and metal piping, he threw his hands up and started shouting.

“Don’t wink the others! Don’t wink the others! Don’t wink back Atticus or the rest of them!”

Big Sally—dressed in his usual plaid shirt and overalls—stood at the main computer, a Barrier Wand clasped in his huge hands. The look on his perplexed face was almost comical, and somewhat pitiful as well.

“I’s waitin’ on that brain a’yorn to figger it out anyhoo,” the burly man said. “’Bout chicken-fried my noggin gettin’ you here as it was!”

Master George finally felt a bit of calm. “Excellent work, Sally, excellent work! We mustn’t wink the others back quite yet—they have a very important task to accomplish first. But we need to get to work straight away.” He walked past Sally and headed toward the door.

“What’s on that mind a’yorn?” Sally asked as he set the Wand down and followed George.

Master George reached the door and entered the hallway. “We’ve got things to collect before we move out. As many weapons as possible . . . and nanolocator patches—we’ll probably need hundreds of patches. We must hurry!”

“Where you reckon we’re goin’ then?”

“We’re going to meet up with Sato at a place called the Factory. We have to rescue Sofia, Paul, and Atticus.” Master George turned to face Sally. “Not to mention a lot of children.”

~

The wind in the forest stopped suddenly, cut off like a giant door slamming shut. Tick could hear the scrape of his body against the leaves and scattered debris underneath him. Things poked and scratched. His shirt ran up to his shoulders, leaving his skin exposed and vulnerable. Pain lit through him. The Sleek’s grip didn’t loosen; if anything, it tightened as it pulled Tick along.

He tried to look at it, but saw nothing except the occasional glimmer of silver light reflecting off tree trunks. He tried to pull himself up, crunching his abs as he reached for his legs, his ankles, but the speed and roughness of the way was too much. He fell back, his head slamming against a fallen log just as he popped over it.

Scratches and scrapes, bumps and bruises. Tick felt the warmth of blood trickling in his hair, wetting his entire back. The sounds of crunching leaves and snapping twigs as his body was dragged across them filled his ears. Darkness surrounded him.

His instincts had him reaching for Chi’karda before his mind formed the thought. Wrapping his arms tightly around his body, he rolled to his side, trying to give his back a break and let his shoulder take some of the abuse. Then he forced himself to close his eyes, searching and probing for the heat of the power within him.

There. A spark.

He reached for it with mental hands and grabbed it, squeezed it, embraced it. Quicker than ever before, the Chi’karda burst through him, filling his body with a raging burn. It pulsed and throbbed. Tick felt like it was about to explode out of him, devouring first his flesh and then the forest in flames. Tick heard the woods around him shake, heard the same odd bee-buzz sound from months ago when he’d unwittingly unleashed his power in fear, wreaking havoc with molecular structures, melding trees and other things together. The same had happened in Chu’s mountain building.

Tick knew he was losing control.

He screamed and opened his eyes.

The first thing he noticed was that he’d stopped moving. An orange cloud of sparkling mist surrounded him, illuminating the forest. The Sleek had released his ankles and stood several feet away, its silver eyes wide and bright, maybe out of shock. Tick could see the thing’s body clearly now—the seething tendrils of black smoke that coiled and wrapped together to form the elongated body, the hacked up face, the wispy trails of its fingers.

Tick was trembling, his hands balled into fists. He didn’t feel pain anymore, only the surge of Chi’karda threatening to scorch him and everything around him. His jaw clenched as if it had locked closed forever. He wanted to kill the Sleek. Chase down the others and kill them. Rescue his friends. Run away. He almost boiled with the desire.

With a scream of rage, he jumped up and pounced on the Sleek, grabbing it by the neck just as it tried to break apart and whisk away. Tick slammed the creature against the closest tree, knowing he shouldn’t be able to do this, knowing that he was somehow using the Chi’karda to make the Sleek maintain its structure and solidity. The thin neck of coiled smoke felt like shifting sands under his fingers, churning and slipping but staying in one place.

Tick squeezed, feeling the neck crackle, as if it
were
sand and hardening to glass. That creepy, cackling whisper of a voice escaped the Sleek’s mouth, saying things Tick couldn’t understand. But it seemed desperate and terrified, the sound of it chilling.

The buzzing sound intensified above them. Chi’karda blazed inside Tick. The orange mist swirled around him like a tornado of fire. A wind picked up, seeming to blow from all directions at once, though it did nothing to the cloud of Chi’karda. Tick felt as if the entire world were about to melt into a pool of lava.

He squeezed the Sleek’s neck even harder.

Something tried to click inside Tick’s brain. Tried to tell him that he’d forgotten the whole point of what he’d come here for. That in the pain and terror of being dragged through the forest, he’d let his anger take over. That he’d lost it, completely lost it.

And yet . . . he was controlling the Chi’karda more than ever before. He was controlling it! Kind of . . .

“Tick!”

A voice. A girl. From somewhere to his right. He barely heard it. He didn’t want to look, didn’t have time to look. The Sleek was almost dead, and then he could go after the others. Maybe he could experiment with Chi’karda, see what he could do with it. Strike out with it somehow? Maybe shoot beams of fiery lasers? Yeah, that’d be awesome.

“Tick!”

The voice was too loud to ignore this time, despite the ripping wind and blazing heat inside him, the buzz of things disintegrating and reforming above him. He knew he was doing things to the trees again, but he didn’t care.

“Tick!”

He snapped out of his delirious daze and looked over to see Sofia standing close to him. The smoky tendrils of a Sleek’s fingers were wrapped around
her
neck. Paul was next to her, also in the custody of a Sleek. The orange glow of Tick’s power made the Sleek’s silvery eyes look angry and red.

“Tick!” Sofia shouted. “You can’t do this! Remember why we’re here in the first place!”

Tick didn’t quite feel like himself. He’d let the burning power of the Chi’karda consume him and take over his bad parts—the anger, the temper, the thirst for revenge—and part of him had liked it. “You’re just saying that!” he yelled over the noise of the wind and the buzzing. “You don’t want them to kill you, so you’re trying to stop me! Well,
I
can stop
them!
Look at this!”

He let go of the Sleek and took a step back, gesturing with his arms like a magician. The orange cloud swirled around him and through his fingertips, around his arms and legs, curling, almost caressing. Fire raged inside him. He turned, pointing at the wooden formations surrounding them. Dozens of trees had been blown apart on a quantum level and put back together again like a series of haunting sculptures crafted by a lunatic.

Tick couldn’t believe it. He was close to understanding how it all worked, close to
really
being able to control it. So close. And he had no idea how—it was just . . . instinct.

He turned back to face Sofia and Paul, their necks still ensnared by the cuffs of smoky fingers. “I know I’m a little bit weird right now,” he said. “But check it out. If I can really do this—”

“Dude, you gotta save it,” Paul said. “You’re freakin’ me out here, man. You’ve got the crazy eyes.”

Sofia tried to step forward, but the Sleek yanked her back. She let out a choking cough then said, “Tick, he’s right. Something’s wrong—on a lot of levels. Just let it go and stick to the plan. Let the Sleeks take us to Mistress Jane. Okay, Tick?”

Tick dropped his eyes and held out his hands to look at the glowing orange mist of Chi’karda swirling around his arms and through his fingers. Hunger burned within him almost as strong as the power itself, a fierce desire to wreak havoc on Jane and the rest of his enemies. But somewhere in the nooks and crannies of his mind, he realized that something wasn’t right about the way he felt. Something on the cusp of evil.

“Okay,” he said, barely a whisper. Then louder, “Okay.”

He closed his eyes and imagined the cloud of sparkles retracting, absorbing back into his body. He pulled it all inside, then let it go, releasing it to whatever place it lay dormant in the quantum realm, where it would wait for him to snatch it up again. When a refreshing coolness rushed through his body and filled the void left by the Chi’karda, he had the thought that he’d just extinguished himself.

He opened his eyes and noticed the stark silence and darkness of the forest. Sofia, Paul, and their spooky captors remained still, staring at him. He could just see the two sets of wide eyes and four pinpoints of silver.

“All right,” he said, amazed at how incredibly thirsty he was. “We’ll go with the Sleeks, nice and easy. But this time we’re walking. Don’t make me mad again.”

~

Mistress Jane wasn’t happy. Everything had gone horribly wrong today, and the only thing that could make her feel better was for someone to pay the consequences. Anyone. Whether or not they were actually at fault for the debacle was a minor point she didn’t care too much about at the moment.

She sat at the window of her room in the Lemon Fortress, looking out at a land covered in night, no moon to break up the darkness. The earthquakes and shattering lightning storms had finally stopped, though the damage they’d caused would take months to repair and rebuild. It was a miracle the castle still stood at all. She wondered if it was foolish to be up here. Who knew what had happened to the foundations and inner structure—the whole thing could collapse at any moment.

Her foul, foul mood darkened to black.

What had gone wrong? After months of preparation, the tireless, tedious work required to retrieve and alter the dark matter into the form she needed, the time to find and secure every single one of her Alterants in the major Reality branches—after all the planning and sacrificing and
risking . . .

It had all gone wrong in an instant. The Blade of Shattered Hope had failed her.

That was the worst part. The second worst part was the fact that she didn’t really know
why
it had failed. The Higginbottom boy had done something—she knew that much. But her instincts told her that his meddling alone had not caused the catastrophic change in direction. His trickle of Chi’karda had not ruptured the connection of the Blade, causing its apocalyptic damage to explode from its course and spread throughout each and every Reality and the barriers between.

No, it wasn’t just him. She’d . . . missed something, done something wrong.

There—she’d admitted it to herself. But it didn’t make her feel any better. It made her feel worse. Angrier.

Maybe, just maybe, the Blade could’ve overcome this fault if the addition of Higginbottom’s usage of power had not occurred. Yes, maybe.

And that was enough for her. She had a focal point on which to exact her vengeance. Not that she really needed anything to make her hate the boy any more than she already did, but still, it helped.

The knock she’d been expecting finally rapped at her door.

“Come in!” she yelled.

She heard a thump then a small scrape. The big door was stuck because of the shifting of stones from the earthquake. With barely a thought, Jane dissolved the wood particles into the air to allow Frazier to enter the room. Once he was inside, she put the door back together again.

“I have news,” her most faithful servant said.

A fire roared in the brick hearth, a luxury Jane loved even as the coolness of winter faded into spring. She pulled a few sparks out with her power and lit the huge candles scattered throughout the room. The glow showed an eagerness on Frazier’s face that lifted her hopes.

“Have a seat and tell me what you’ve learned.” She pointed to the chair across from her. “I don’t have to tell you how
. . . disappointing further bad news would be at the moment.” She let the expression on her mask turn to anger for a second before bringing it back to smooth calmness.

Frazier nodded, the barest hint of a smile flashing across his face as he walked over and sat down on the edge of the chair next to her. “I think you’ll like what I have to say.”

“Then get on with it.”

“Yes, Mistress.” He leaned forward, his elbows on knees, hands clasped. “Over the last few hours, we’ve sent people to all the Realities to gather as much data as possible. We, um, had to send out quite a few, because they kept dying in all the chaos. More than half, actually.”

Jane’s first instinct was to snap at Frazier for wasting time about such an unimportant detail, but she kept her cool. “Yes, a worthy sacrifice, I’m sure. Whatever it took to learn what we needed.”

“Yes. Yes, of course. Anyway, the devastation we saw here was universal. Massive earthquakes, catastrophic storms, tornadoes, you name it—it all happened in each and every Reality. Lasted for a good hour or two. Killed, um, millions of people.” His eyes flickered to the floor at this last part.

“Feel no shame, Frazier. Remember, we knew there would be collateral damage in our mission for Utopia. For Chi’karda’s sake, if the Blade had worked today like it was supposed to, six
billion
people would’ve died! What’s a few million? Keep your focus! We don’t have time to mourn the losses along the way.” In truth, she felt a constant, choking swell of guilt, but had learned to accept it and live with it.