He snatched it up and unrolled it, so eager his hands were shaking. The tightly coiled note sprung closed twice before he finally got it under control enough that he could open it and read its hand-written contents. He’d barely started before Rutger yelled at him to read it out loud.
“Okay,” Sato said, surprisingly not annoyed at the interruption. He cleared his throat and started from the beginning. “‘Dear Sato. This is Tick. Mistress Jane did something really bad, and every last Reality is going to roll over and die unless we do something about it. You were taken to that place you’re in by, well, I can explain all that later. You’re safe for now. But a few hours after you get this, you’re gonna be winked to the Thirteenth Reality. All of you. I need you to convince everyone there to come help me.’”
Sato paused for a big breath and looked around at his friends, all of whom stared back with wide eyes.
“Keep going!” Rutger snapped.
Sato did. “‘There’s a place called the Factory. Mothball should know about it. It’s where Jane creates her fangen and some new things that are worse. I’ll be there in a little bit with Master George, Paul, and Sofia. With any luck, we’ll be working with Jane to fix the Realities. Yeah, long story, but we’ll need her help. Anyway, once we’re done, there’s no way Jane will let us go. That’s where you guys come in.’”
Sato saw Mothball shake her head back and forth, but he chose to ignore her for now and kept reading. “‘The people of the Fifth are known as warriors—even those who don’t do it as a profession. Somehow you and Mothball need to organize them and convince them to come rescue us. The Haunce—don’t ask—also says there are lots of children we’ll need to save while we’re at it. Sato, you have to come! Be ready so when the Haunce thinks the time is right, it can wink all of you to the Thirteenth.’”
Mothball was quietly groaning now—almost wailing—but the note only had a few more sentences. Sato finished up quickly. “‘I know you have a ton of questions, but there’s no way I can explain everything in a stupid note. I hope you can trust me. The Factory, Sato. The Factory. Come and get us. And just so you know it’s me: remember how mad you were that I saved you twice? Well, it’s payback time. Tick out.’”
Sato stared at those last couple of lines for a few seconds. A trickle of doubt had entered his mind upon first reading the note—anybody could’ve sent the note. But now he knew it really was Tick. The tone, the phrasing, the reference to their exchange after Sato had been freed from Chu’s Dark Infinity device—it was Tick, all right.
Mothball let out a sound like a bear with its foot caught in a trap.
Sato looked at her and saw something awful and afraid in her expression. “What’s wrong with you?” he asked.
“The Factory,” she replied in a whisper. “Master Tick’s spot on when he says I should know all about it. Know far too much, I do. Sorry to be a pussycat, but if that’s where we’re goin’, then I’m a might scared, that’s all.”
Rutger nodded, his face a full shade paler than it had been before Sato had read the note. “She’s right. Our spies in the Thirteenth have told us all about that nightmare place. I can’t imagine what Tick’s gotten himself into, but if he really is headed for that place of horrors, then we have no choice but to go after him. Just like he asked for. Even though it terrifies me just as much as it does Mothball.” He leaned back to look up at his friend, a ball tilting on a pivot. “In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen you scared before.”
“Hogwash,” she mumbled back.
Sato hadn’t known her nearly as long as Rutger had, but he’d definitely never seen her so afraid—at least nothing even approaching the way she looked now, pallid and sweaty with dead eyes. “Well, what is the Factory?” he finally asked. “Why is it so awful?”
“Tell him, Mothball,” Rutger said. “Tell him what they told us.”
The tall Realitant’s eyes flickered down to her friend, then to Sato. She stiffened her body and held her head a little higher, composing herself. “Well, there’s the obvious bit Tick mentioned. Factory’s full of Jane’s hideous creations, guardin’ every last inch of it. But that’s not the worst part. Not worst by far, the way I reckon it. What chills me bones is to think of what we’ll see if we get inside the ruddy place. Things unnatural and evil. Things that just might cure of us sleepin’ till we drop dead of it.”
“Like what?” Sato asked, his curiosity mixed with a chilling fear. “What are they doing in there?”
Mothball pulled her long, gangly arms behind her and clasped her hands as she stared down at her own feet. “They take animals and . . . meld them with other animals, usin’ the mutated powers of the Thirteenth’s Chi’karda. Meld ’em right together into things you wouldn’t dare tell ’round a campfire.”
Sato held his breath.
Mothball’s head snapped up so she could look him square in the eyes. “But that ain’t the whole of it. Learned somethin’ brand-new few weeks back, we did. Somethin’ that’ll make your heart shrivel and scream.”
Sato swallowed. It felt like a dried clump of dirt went down his throat. “What?”
Tears leaked from both of Mothball’s eyes. “Kiddies,” she said, her voice cracking. “The animals only be tests. She’s done captured a bunch of kiddies and plans on usin’ ’em soon as she’s good and ready.”
Chapter
35
~
Darkness of the Way
Tick couldn’t believe what he’d done. Even after some time to think about it, his mind still couldn’t accept it. He sat on the forest floor, absently ripping apart leaves from a nearby bush, surrounded by darkness and cool air.
He’d winked something away. All by himself. After all the strange episodes leading up to that moment—the reappearance of the letter Kayla had burned, winking his group from the Thirteenth back to Master George’s headquarters, the near-catastrophe in the Fourth Reality—he’d finally used Chi’karda on his own terms. He’d controlled it and used its power to wink—a thing the Realitants thought only a Barrier Wand could accomplish.
He’d done it all by himself.
“Told ya you were superhuman,” Paul said from behind Tick, startling him.
He needed that jolt because he didn’t have time to sit and contemplate. He looked down at his watch and clicked the little light—it’d been at least ten minutes since he sent the message to Sato. At least, he hoped he’d sent the message to Sato.
He pushed off the leafy bed of the ground and stood up, turning the flashlight back on as he did so. The others all stood closely together, examining him. Only Paul was smiling.
“What?” Tick asked. “I told you what I was going to do.”
“Yeah, you did,” Sofia said. “But . . . it was kind of spooky to watch. You’re really weird, Tick.”
He knew her well enough by now to recognize the compliment. But what did she mean about the spooky part? “Why? What happened? What did it look like when I did it?”
Sofia glanced at Master George—who nodded once, slowly, then at Paul—who let out a little burst of a laugh—then back at Tick. “Little streams of orange light spilled out of your eyes and ears and then swirled around the silver tube until it disappeared. You didn’t see that? You were staring straight at the thing like you’d been possessed by forty demons.”
Tick felt only a little bit of shock—not so much at the orange light but the fact that he hadn’t noticed it. “No, I didn’t see it. Maybe I was concentrating too much. But when Jane pulled the Chi’karda out of me when we were under Chu’s palace, that’s what it looked like. Orange light—kind of like a fog or mist.”
“No, well, kind of, I guess,” Sofia responded. “It was more like ribbons of orange, something you’d see twirling off a cheerleader’s baton.”
“Interesting that it’s orange,” Master George said. “I wonder why we never see Chi’karda manifest itself that way when we use a Barrier Wand. Something tells me it’s related to the souliken discovery—though
I’m far from understanding everything about that.”
Tick’s mind started processing what the Realitant leader had said, thinking it through and analyzing. He’d spent so much time the last few months studying science that such thinking had become second nature. But he forced himself to stop. They had to get moving—they were already behind schedule!
“Man, what are we doing?” he said through a groan. “We have to get going. Now. Come on.” He took a step, but then stopped, frowning. “Wait, any of you guys know which way is east?”
Master George pointed over his right shoulder, but Paul cut in. “Wait, man. You just did something crazy, like magical. Shouldn’t we talk about it, figure out what and how and all that, so next time you can do it again? Maybe even better?”
Tick was tired of saying it, but he repeated himself anyway. “It’ll have to wait—we need to go. Now. Just trust me.”
“Fine,” Paul said, turning toward the direction Master George had indicated. “But you promised to explain things as we walked. Start talking.”
“Okay,” Tick said. He shone the flashlight ahead of him, revealing an endless expanse of trees and brush, then walked forward, his every step crunching twigs and leaves. He moved past Master George, and the others followed right behind him. The strain from winking the tube away had worn off, and he felt the chill of the air like a sprinkle of fine mist. Being on the move again would feel good.
They’d gone about fifteen feet or so, and Tick figured now was as good a time to start talking as any. His friends deserved an explanation—even if Tick didn’t understand everything himself.
“So, the Haunce is like this big sack of people’s memories and personalities and thoughts,” Tick said. “It told me that every time we have a significant event in our lives, it leaves an electronic stamp on Reality, and those moments collect and become attached to us. That’s what a souliken is. Seems a lot easier to just call it a ghost.”
“I think I like souliken better,” Sofia said. “I’m not a big fan of ghosts.”
“Wuss,” Paul muttered. “Ow!”
Tick heard the punch on Paul’s arm that he’d fully expected.
“Doesn’t matter right now,” Tick said. “What matters is that the Haunce is a collection of millions and millions of soulikens, and it acts like a guardian of the Realities. Sort of a gatekeeper or a watchman. Whatever. But we gotta trust it.”
“Yes, indeed,” Master George added, his voice already a little winded as they tramped through the forest. “The Haunce has the Realitants’ highest respect—there’s no doubt in this matter. What the Haunce says, we should do.”
“Okay,” Paul said. “So what is it we’re gonna do?”
Tick walked around a huge oak then settled back in on the course his instincts marked as east. “Well, ultimately the Haunce, me, and Jane are going to link and use our . . . power”—how he hated using that word!—“to rebind the barriers of the Realities that are falling apart.”
“Yeah, ultimately,” Paul said, a major hint of doubt in his tone. “But something tells me we’re not gonna like hearing what you keep avoiding—what we have to do to get to that point.”
Tick winced. Paul had hit at the heart of the matter. “Um, yeah, you’re probably right on that one.”
Tick felt Paul’s hand grab his arm as Paul forced him to stop and turn around.
“What!” Tick shouted way too loudly. But then he remembered what the next stage of the plan was and that being quiet didn’t quite play into it. Now that he had to tell them what the Haunce wanted, he was terrified of their reaction. They weren’t going to be very happy.
“Come on, dude,” Paul said, almost pleading. “Don’t make me give the corny speech about how we’re all part of a team. Tell us what’s going on.”
Tick shook Paul’s hand off his arm, but then nodded. Paul was right. He had to tell them. “Sorry. Obviously I’ve been avoiding that part.”
Paul folded his arms disapprovingly. “Yeah, obviously.”
“Come on, Tick,” Sofia said. “Just tell us real quick.”
Master George put his hands on his knees to catch his breath, not seeming to care one way or the other.
Tick thought furiously for a second. It hadn’t sounded so bad when the Haunce had told him about this part. But then again, they’d been tucked away safely in Tick’s home at the time. He decided to just get it over with. “Jane has a new creation—something called a Sleek.”
He expected everyone to repeat the word or start asking questions before he could continue. Instead, they all just stared at him, waiting.
“Once she had the fangen all figured out and perfected, she moved on to other creatures. And from the sound of it, always nasty and terrifying creatures. No big surprise there. But she always works with a purpose. The Sleeks are what she created to guard the Factory. And, um, we’re getting really close to the place where they’ll be hunting through the woods.”
Tick saw fear flash across his friends’ faces, and seeing that made him feel even more scared. “The Sleeks sound really, really awful. The whole purpose of their existence is to hunt down anything that’s not supposed to be in these forests. They’re tall and thin when seen straight on, but most of the time they’re impossible to see clearly. They have ten times the strength of a fangen, and they have almost magic abilities using Chi’karda. The Haunce said they’re wispy and fast, almost like living smoke mixed with wind. And once they catch sight of you, forget escaping. No way, according to the Haunce. But don’t worry—there is some good news.”
“I’m having quite a hard time seeing the good news in any of this,” Master George said.
Tick looked at him. “Well, there is. Kind of. The Sleeks aren’t allowed to kill what they hunt down. Mistress Jane wants to interrogate any intruders.”
“Oh, no,” Sofia said. “Don’t tell me . . .”
“You’ve gotta be kidding,” Paul added.
Tick was relieved they’d gotten it before he had to say it, but he did so anyway. “You guessed it. The Haunce wants us to find them. We have to let the Sleeks capture us.”
Chapter
36
~
The Speech
Sato sat alone, his heart like a dying filament inside a light bulb, about to burst and flame out at any second. What Mothball had said—about Jane planning to use human kids for her creations—horrified him like nothing ever had before. He knew a lot of bad things had happened in the history of the world, but this had to top it.
Killing was bad enough, but . . . what was the word Mothball had used? Melding. Jane was melding animals together . . .
He slammed the door on that thought. His mind had already slipped close to an edge overhanging a dark and awful abyss from which he didn’t know if he could escape. He needed to keep it together. Hold onto the anger, sure. Let it fester and boil inside him until he had no choice but to go forward in a rage and do what he had to do to stop what the witch was doing. But he couldn’t allow himself to sink back into that dark place which had once haunted him every day after seeing his parents murdered, burned alive by Jane herself.
He shook his head, slammed another door in his mind. Looking around, he saw that the people of the Fifth were gathering around him again, though a bit more timidly than before. They must have seen the anguish on his face, enough to scare them a little.
But that look of awe still clung to their expressions, their eyes filled with something he could only describe as hope. Which was good. Ever since reading the note from Tick—and especially since Mothball’s revelation about the Factory—he’d been heading down a path toward a decision. He didn’t even quite know if he consciously controlled this path, but every part of him walked along it.
He was going to do exactly what Tick asked. Somehow.
The tall people of the Fifth inched closer and closer, surrounding him on all sides. Sato craned his neck to look through the scant open spaces to where Lisa and the rest of Tick’s family huddled far out
side the crowd, still seeming to revel in their reunion and the good news that Tick was alive.
Mothball and Rutger had told them about the note—all of it. Now wasn’t the time to hide anything from anybody. Sato knew that the Higginbottoms also had mixed feelings, and more reason than ever to worry over their son. Just another twist of the path Sato traveled. Just another reason to make things happen, no matter what.
“Excuse me, good sir,” a soft female voice said close to his ear. Closer than he felt comfortable allowing—he wasn’t ready yet!
He looked up, ready to snap at whoever had invaded his space. But it was an old woman, as tall as Mothball and just as gangly, leaning over him like a wind-broken tree. She had a gentle, pretty face, and Sato’s anger quickly slipped away.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “You all keep asking me the same thing, and I can’t answer it any differently. I’m not the guy you think I am.” He returned his chin to his fists, his eyes to the floor. How was he going to do this?
“We don’t rightly think that anymore,” the woman answered. “We’re not a bunch of dumb lugs, ya know. But there’s somethin’ right special about you, there is. And we want to ’ear from ya, that’s all. Not too much to be askin’, now is it?”
Sato took a long, deep breath. He had to do something, get the ball rolling. Sitting there with all of them gawking like kids at a zoo would drive him crazy if it went on for another minute.
“Fine,” he said, sighing as he forced himself to stand. The old woman smiled, her grin revealing that she only had about half her teeth, and those remaining were dark yellow. But still, she had a pretty face, despite its age and wear and tear. Somehow, she was keeping him polite and level-headed.
“Give us a speech,” she whispered to him, still leaning down considerably. “We could all use a bit of uppity-up, no matter the source. You’ve got the looks of one who can do that right nicely. You do, really.” She winked at him then stood straight, a good foot taller than Sato.
The Blade of Shattered Hope Page 19
