Sato felt a strong surge of relief, which made him worry that maybe he was worrying too much. Oh shut up, he told himself. “Serious? We’re going to see your parents?” He was surprised at how much the idea lifted him.
“Right ya are,” Mothball replied. “’Long as we can get our guide here to quit stumbling about like an eyeless toad. Come on, Rutger, set your dials and switches and get on with it.”
Rutger grumbled something too quiet to make out, then held the Barrier Wand up, concentrating. “A light, please?”
Sato shined the flashlight on the Wand, then asked, “Where do they live? Around here?”
“No, grumpy cheeks,” Rutger responded as he turned a dial or two, his tongue caught between his lips. “We’re going to wink to another cemetery near them. It’s a good ten thousand miles from here, so hold your hats.”
“I’m not wearin’ a ruddy hat,” Mothball said.
“It’s an expression, ” Rutger huffed. “Alright, we’re ready to go, and I’m locked onto all of our nanolocators. Here we go.”
Without another warning, Rutger pushed the button on top of the Wand. Sato heard the metallic click and felt the familiar tingle on his neck, and then everything changed.
It was daytime, the sun above almost blinding. Sato shielded his eyes, and at first he thought that what he saw in front of him was a trick of the light on his mind. But then it came into better focus, and he had no doubt.
Several people were trying to kill each other with swords.
And they were dressed like clowns.
Chapter 10
Ribbons of Orange
Tick couldn’t believe how quiet Paul and Sofia had been since coming down the stairs-especially Sofia. The girl could never keep her mouth shut. And Paul-he had to be terrified to stay so silent. And his face showed it. Tick thought about how many weeks he’d been dying to see these guys, and now that they were here, he’d give anything to send them safely away.
“What do you mean?” Master George asked Jane after a long period of silence, Jane seemingly content to let her pronouncement sink in. “What plan are you talking about, and why would you want us to witness it?”
Tick had been trying to look at the floor, avoiding the menacing mask on Jane’s face. But his eyes kept drawing back to it, fascinated at its almost magical ability to change expressions. Upon Master George’s question, it melted into compassion, almost sadness.
“You have always known my wishes,” she said in a flat voice, as if beginning a long lecture. “My ways and means may have changed-certainly my abilities have-but I’ve never wavered from my lifetime mission, George. And that is to see the suffering of countless Alterants end. To create one and only one Reality, where the strongest of each one of us can live, and where we can stop the torturous splitting of worlds.”
“I’ve never heard you put it quite that way before,” Master George said. “I remember your talk of a Utopia, a paradise, a place where all can be happy. The way you describe it now sounds more like the wishes of an evil, insane, power-hungry monster. What’s happened to you, Jane?”
She paused to let him speak, but then acted as if she hadn’t heard a word he said, continuing her lecture without missing a beat. “The first step of my plan is not going to be easy. I hardly expect any of you to understand what I do or to give it your blessing. But I couldn’t possibly care less. For what the lot of you have done to me, I don’t expect to let most of you live long enough to see the end come to pass.”
She paused, turning her head to look at each person in the room. “But you all will see what I plan for tomorrow. You’ll see it, and you’ll know my power once and for all.”
Master George wouldn’t quit pushing. “Jane, this is madness.”
“Madness?” she repeated. “I tried it your way, the Realitants’ way. And look what I got in return.” She motioned to her face and robed body with her hideous hands then held them up for everyone to see. “The irony is, that by ruining me physically, you’ve helped me more than you know. Not only can I channel my abilities more acutely than ever before, but I’ve been reminded of what I knew from the beginning. That the only way to accomplish anything is by taking the hard road, the harsh road. The sometimes cruel and hateful road. Never before has it been so true that the ends will justify the means. I’ll never stray from the path again. Never.”
Tick felt heat simmering inside him as she spoke, growing and intensifying with every word. Though he didn’t really know the specifics of what she was talking about, he could hear the evil in her voice, the horrible intent of her words. He could almost feel it, just like the pulse that had brought him down here in the first place. The pulse. What had that been?
“As you can see,” Jane continued, “I’m learning more each and every day about how to use the gifts that have been given to me. Take the waterkelts, for example. You’d be amazed at how easy it is to manipulate the molecules of our favorite liquid.”
Tick’s anger grew, heat boiling in his chest. And despite his better judgment, this time he didn’t stop it. Jane had obviously noticed.
“Atticus, are we going to have a problem?” she asked coolly. But he thought he heard the slightest trace of concern, and she definitely took a small step backward. She feared him; he knew it.
“Tick,” his dad said next to him, turning toward him and gripping him by the shoulders. “Are you feeling it again? Push it away, hold it back, do something.” The worry creasing his face tore at Tick’s heart, so he looked away, back at Jane.
His mom squeezed his arm, then whispered in his ear. “Atticus, pull it back. Go through the breathing exercises. Son, we’re not going to let her hurt-”
“I won’t listen to another word she says!” Tick screamed. He was losing control and felt his body trembling. He had to do something. “We can’t just let her talk like this to us!” His skin burned. He looked at his arms, half-expecting to see blisters and smoke. But all was normal.
“Atticus-” his mom said.
She stepped away from him, as did his dad. Tick looked over at Sofia and Paul, their eyes wide. They were scared of him. They were all scared of him. He noticed Master George’s hand had slipped into his pocket, fingering something there. Tick knew it had to be another shot of whatever Sofia had used to knock him out in Chu’s mountain office building.
Tick didn’t know what to do. He felt the heat inside him, the power, weaken a little. He looked back at Jane, hoping to reignite it. She hadn’t moved, but her mask was pulled back in fury.
“You can’t stand against me,” Jane said. “Not now, not after what you did to me. Stop now, or you’ll spend the rest of your short life regretting it.”
“What did I do to you?” Tick spat back at her. “You tried to kill me!”
“What did you do? What did you do? ” Jane stepped forward, closer than before, regaining her ground. “You took the strongest parts of the most powerful weapon ever created by man and melded them with a woman already equipped with a control over Chi’karda never seen before. That’s what you did, Atticus. Your selfish, cowardly act will end up being the very thing that will allow me to win.”
“It… will… not,” Tick said, concentrating with every ounce of brain power he could muster, trying to sense, to feel, to grasp the boiling Chi’karda within him. He remembered last year when Jane had pulled it out of him in a cloud of orange sparkles, a mist of tangible power. He tried to visualize it the same way, tried to touch it.
“Stop it,” Jane warned. “Stop it now! ”
“Atticus,” his mom pleaded. “She’s right. Now’s not the time!”
“Tick, pull it back before you kill yourself!” Sofia yelled.
The others shouted similar words at him. Master George pulled what looked like an ordinary pen from his pocket. But Tick couldn’t stop. He couldn’t let Jane do anything to harm his friends and family.
He turned his attention back to her, focusing again on the burning power within him, holding onto it in a way he
could’ve never described to anyone. Then he threw it at Jane. Screaming, he leaned forward and threw the power at her, pushing it away from him in a rush of energy and invisible flame.
A thunderclap shook the room as Jane stumbled backward, fiery sparks exploding all around her. Boxes tumbled, people fell to the ground. There was shouting and yelling. Somewhere, glass shattered. Another thunderclap, a thump of booming sound, shook the whole house. Streaks of orange mist swirled throughout the basement like ribbons of sunset, slashing this way and that. Tick felt as if lava flowed in his veins and thought his head might explode from the pressure.
Still, he kept pushing, kept aiming every bit of his strength at Jane.
She didn’t fall. She planted her feet against the onslaught. Her red mask raged. Thunder continued to blast the air in repeated bursts, filling the world full of noise. A loud, piercing, terrible noise that only fed Tick’s fire.
But then, somehow, through all that sound, he heard Jane’s voice, as crystal clear as if she’d spoken directly into his ear in a silent room. It took a moment for her words to register, for him to comprehend exactly what she was saying, but when it clicked, when he realized what he was jeopardizing, what he was risking, he immediately pulled it all back, all of it. He had no idea how he did it, but in an instant the power vanished, sucked back into him and quenched like a candle in a rainstorm.
Jane had said four words.
“I have your sisters.”
Chapter 11
Latitude and Longitude
Frazier Gunn walked through the thick forest, trying his hardest to ignore the humidity that tried to suck the life out of him and fill his lungs with heavy water. Every breath seemed an effort, and every inch of clothing clung to his skin. He was miserably uncomfortable.
And then there were the insects: almost microscopic gnats that swarmed in small packs around his nose and eyes, tiny dragonflies that appeared to love the darkness and warmth of the human inner ear-at least that’s where they kept trying to get to, wasps and bees. But the mosquitoes were the worst-big as moths and drinking up his blood like miniature vampires. With his free hand, he swatted the latest one to land on his neck, then looked at the greasy dark smear on his palm. Disgusting.
His other hand was occupied, gripping a makeshift handle on the end of a thick rope, which dangled away behind him to its other end, tied loosely around the neck of a woman. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he couldn’t have her running away, either. Her long, black hair was matted against her face and head, and her clothes were soaked with sweat, but she kept Frazier’s pace, never uttering a word of complaint.
Yes, she was a criminal, but she was also an Alterant of Mistress Jane. She looked just like her except for the long mane of hair. But it was the same face, the same Frazier faltered in his steps, almost tripping over a big root. He’d forgotten-just for the barest of moments-that his boss no longer had the beauty and grace that had distinguished her for so many years. She’d yet to show him her face, but he’d seen enough-just her hands were enough-to know that the Higginbottom kid had done something truly horrific to her body. The poor woman Frazier dragged along behind him was a goddess compared to Mistress Jane now.
The thought saddened and angered him in equal parts, and when they rounded a massively thick oak tree, he accidentally jerked on the rope. The Alterant yelped behind him and stumbled to the ground, gurgling out a choke as the noose tightened. Frazier quickly got her back on her feet and apologized, though he knew it was empty and cold. He kept thinking of her as his boss, and he had to stop it.
On they went, hiking their way through the hot, wilted, miserable forest.
Frazier was exhausted. The only other person in the Realities to whom he’d dare entrust this assignment was Mistress Jane herself, and she obviously couldn’t do it. If two Alterants met face to face, bad things happened. Reginald Chu had discovered that little gem of information himself, and now he was stuck in some place Frazier hoped he’d never see. The Nonex. What a stupid name.
It wasn’t just the humidity and the heat that had Frazier so tired. It was more the fact that he had to do the same thing twelve times-taking each Alterant to the exact same location in each of their respective Realities, leaving them chained and secure, but with enough food and water to survive until the plans were complete. He’d already finished with ten; two more to go. But only a handful of Realities had GPS equipment in the air, so most of the time he had to use maps and human guides to find the latitude and longitude coordinates. It was a real pain in the bahoonkas.
This world had the satellites and the technology, for which he was extremely grateful. Having a group of jabbering guides and a backpack full of maps didn’t sound like something he could handle right now, trudging through the dense, suffocating woods. The Blade component strapped across his shoulders was plenty heavy enough, and sweat poured down his body in streams. He looked at his GPS navigation watch-the one he’d, um, taken for free from a poor sucker back in Carson City, the closest patch of civilization to this wretched place. They were close to the destination now.
Frazier squeezed his way through a clump of thin, gangly trees into a wide patch of vegetation. His spirits lifted slightly. Maybe they were past the thickest part of the forest. Kicking and pounding down with his foot, he pushed his way through the thick, clinging growth, leading the Alterant and moving ever closer toward the exact latitude and longitude of the Blade location. By the time he saw another grove of gigantic trees looming up ahead, his watch beeped, once, long and loud.
They’d reached the fifty-foot radius point.
If he hadn’t had a prisoner behind him, tied and bound to him and watching his every move, he would have dropped to his knees and howled at the sky in delirious joy. Of the now eleven times he’d made this journey, this one had been the most difficult. It was the heat; it had to be the heat. He felt utter dread knowing he still had one more Reality ahead of him. But, for now, he allowed himself some elation, at least a little. Even if he did keep it on the inside.
“We’re here,” he said, making sure he didn’t allow the relief to trickle into his voice. “I need a minute to set up. Don’t try anything. Or, um, I’ll have to, um, kill you.” Of course, not in a million years would he do that-the Blade operation was way too important, and it couldn’t happen if even one of the Alterants died-but she didn’t know that.
“Where’s here?” the woman asked, her voice hoarse and scratchy. “Why won’t you tell me anything?”
“Because you don’t need to know.” Frazier walked a little way farther until they were in the rough middle of the designated area. He let go of the rope, giving the prisoner the evil eye as he did so, knowing she’d get the message. He swung the Blade component off his shoulders, unhooked the leather straps, and let it thump to the ground in front of him.
“I’ve dealt with people a lot worse than you,” she said in a raw whisper.
Frazier barely heard her. He was down on his knees, studying the Blade. Or, more accurately, a part of the Blade. One of thirteen parts, it was a beautiful piece of work. Made of the blackest stone-a substance that did not even exist in any Reality, at least not naturally-it had no measurable shape or dimensions. Twisty, curvy, and slightly elongated, it was like a beautiful, abstract sculpture, with dozens of thin strands connecting two bulky end pieces, all of it harder and stronger than the toughest metal or stone. And blacker than the deepest, starless night.
Jane had made this. She’d created it. He’d begged her to explain how she’d done it, explain what the material was, explain the science behind it. But she always refused, saying it was on such a deep and complex level he’d never understand. A lot of it, she finally told him, came about purely on instinct, a result of her digging through the wonders of quantum physics and spacetime. But on several occasions, when she otherwise seemed asleep or lost in thought, he’d heard her whisper two words:
Dark matter.
He was sure of it. She’d said dark matter. Whet
her or not it had anything to do with the Blade, he couldn’t be sure. He certainly had no idea if what lay in front of him now was made of dark matter or contained it somehow. But his gut told him that his boss had stumbled upon a discovery that would alter the Realities forever if she ever chose to share it with her fellow scientists. But that, he knew, would never happen.
Dark matter.
He shivered, and feeling the chill in the brutal heat ripped him out of his wandering thoughts. He snapped his head up to look at the Alterant, who stood quietly, everything from her face to her hands to her clothes seeming to wilt toward the ground, a display of misery. He felt truly sorry for her, and knew it was because of how much she looked like Mistress Jane.
“I’m sorry this has been so rough on you,” he said, positive she’d think he was up to something and not being sincere. He didn’t care. “Sometimes I lose myself in the amazing things we’re trying to accomplish. Sometimes I… forget that the people we hurt along the way are human.”
The woman stared at him, disgust wrinkling up her face. Then she spat on the twisted black stone. “You can take your sick voodoo toys and shove ’em up your nose. Go ahead and kill me. Do whatever. I don’t care.”
Frazier couldn’t take his eyes off her for a long moment. She looked so much like his boss, it hurt his heart to hear her say such things. He felt a sudden surge of something between pain and love. He wanted to go to the woman, hold her, kiss her. In that instant, he didn’t want to hurt her like this.
“Get your ugly eyes off me,” she said. “I’ve seen rats who look more intelligent than you.”
That ended his brief flare of weakness. He reached out and grabbed the rope around her neck. He stood up and made her sit on the roughly flat surface of the Blade’s top bulky section. The thin strands of hard, black stone twisted and curved their way down until they connected with the bottom section. They looked like a clump of wires. Maybe, he thought, somehow that’s what they were.
The Blade of Shattered Hope 1r-3 Page 6
