He started pushing past Paul to head out of the room, but stopped and looked up at Sofia. “Ah, I almost forgot. Master George has something very special he wants to give you. I have to admit I was surprised at his choice, but he said he felt strongly that you should be the one entrusted to use it.”
Sofia’s raised eyebrows, creased forehead, and greedy grin made her look half-shocked and half-thrilled. “What is it?”
Rutger exchanged a long look with Mothball, neither of them showing much expression or saying a word.
Finally, Rutger said, “On second thought, we better let Master George explain it to you. Come on, let’s go down the elevator to the canyon floor.”
Chapter
41
A Cloud of Stars
Do you trust me, Atticus?”
Tick looked at Mistress Jane, almost expecting her to laugh and say she was kidding. They’d been standing in silence for at least ten minutes since reading the Note of Doom. “What kind of stupid question is that? You’re a traitor, and you really seem to like hurting and killing people. No, I don’t trust you.”
Jane scowled, the pale red light making her look like a devil. “Fair enough. Then answer this—do you trust Reginald Chu?”
That made Tick think. “Well, no. He’s as bad as you.”
“Listen to me,” Jane said. “I know I can’t convince you I’m a fairy godmother who loves to make cookies and play hide-and-seek with children. But you’re a smart boy. Think about our situation. No matter the troubles between us—between me and the Realitants—we have a bigger problem, right here, right now. We have to stop Chu before he causes every last person in the Realities to go insane. And I need your help.”
Tick threw his arms up in frustration. “Need my help? You keep saying that. Yeah, somehow I winked people out of the Thirteenth and—” He stopped, not wanting to tell her about how last spring he’d made the burned letter from Master George reappear. “But it was probably just a freak thing and will never happen again. Plus, what good will that do us? You want me to wink you somewhere like I’m some kind of human Barrier Wand?”
Mistress Jane grabbed her black hair that lay over her shoulder and gripped it in her fist like a ponytail. “Atticus, you’re either a brilliant actor or not quite as wise as I thought.”
“What are you talking about?”
Jane reached out and poked him in the chest. “Your whole body exudes Chi’karda. It practically glows on your skin. You’re like a supercharged battery just waiting to unleash your power. I’ve never seen anything like it, and you can’t tell me you don’t feel it.”
Tick suddenly felt very ill, and all he could do was shake his head.
“I visited some of the places Chu sent you to—after you were gone. Back when I was still deciding whether or not to kill you as he’d challenged me to do. How could you have done those terrible things and not realize you’d done it?”
“I have no idea what—”
“Please!” Jane shouted. “The twisted trees, the melted glass with a huge creature stuck in the middle—what do you think did that? A stiff hot wind? It was you!”
Tick felt too weak to stand anymore. He slid down the wall as his knees bent; his rear end thumped onto the hard floor. “What do you . . . I don’t . . . you’re nuts. That’s not possible.”
Jane crouched down until her face was level with his, reddish-green eyes shining through her glasses. “You really had no idea, did you? It was you, Atticus, it was you. Extreme amounts of Chi’karda are flowing through you like pulsing electricity, and you have no control over it.”
Tick found he couldn’t speak, his throat constricted. But he shook his head. Emotions swirled inside him—anger, confusion, disbelief. Panic. He’d done all those things? He didn’t want to have some kind of weird power over Chi’karda, he didn’t want the pressure, he didn’t want to be here.
He felt hot, as if his heart pumped out boiling water. His mind burned.
Then everything seemed to go crazy at once.
A loud bang echoed down the hallway; the walls and floor shook as if a thousand pounds of dyn**ite had just been detonated below them. Mistress Jane cried out and fell backward, slamming her head against the wall. Tick sprawled across the floor, rolling as if the whole building had been tilted on its side. The floor gave way beneath him, dropping with another loud boom. Tick plummeted several feet and landed awkwardly on his arm. As he twisted it out from under his body, he looked up in time to see a wave ripple down the hallway like a massive mole burrowing its way underground.
As the ripple disappeared into the darkness, the building shook again, but this time constant and steady, rocking back and forth, an earthquake. Tick scooted back against the wall, looking around, not knowing what to do.
Jane got up on her hands and knees, shaking her head as she bounced up and down with the moving floor.
“What’s happening?” Tick yelled.
Jane didn’t answer, crawling toward him as best she could, getting back up each time she fell. A huge lurch sent her rocketing forward. She crashed into Tick and grabbed his arms to steady herself.
“What’s happening?” Tick repeated.
Jane shifted until she was side by side with him, her back against the wall. She put her left arm around his shoulder and grabbed his hand with her right. She tilted his head toward her and started whispering in his ear, caressing his hair like a mother trying to console her child.
“Listen to me, Atticus, listen to me. Take a deep breath. Calm yourself. I promise you I won’t let anything hurt you. Calm yourself, breathe.” She pulled his head down onto her shoulder. “Everything’s okay, everything’s okay. Close your eyes, breathe—everything’s going to be okay.”
Everything was a blur to Tick, shaking and rattling. He did as Jane told him, closing his eyes, sucking in deep breaths, surprised at the calm warmth that spread through him despite the chaos. Jane continued to stroke his hair, whispering words of safety in his ears.
As quickly as it had begun, the shaking stopped and all was silent except a creak or two as the building settled. Tick heard himself breathing, felt his chest rising and falling, felt the comforting touch of Jane. The thought repulsed him, but he didn’t move.
“Open your eyes,” Jane said, gently pushing his head off her shoulder.
Tick did, and gasped at what he saw in front of him.
A misty mass of bright orange sparkles floated in the air, a condensed cloud several feet wide, hovering and pulsating slightly as if it breathed. His eyes hurt, but he couldn’t look away. It seemed as if he’d been transported to deep space, viewing a nebula or a swirling galaxy.
“What . . . what is that?” he whispered.
Jane’s voice was soft. “It’s your Chi’karda, Atticus. I told you I could channel it if you would only unleash it for me. I can’t say I understand what’s happening, but it seems that when you get angered or afraid, power bursts from you, completely out of control and dangerous. If I hadn’t been able to calm you, I’m not sure I would’ve been able to harness it and form it before us. Now, don’t worry, I’m about to do something. Trust me.”
The cloud moved toward Tick, the shining particles dancing in the air, darting back and forth as they surrounded him, dissipating into the darkness. He felt a surge of warmth, like walking out of a freezer into the hot desert sunshine. For a few seconds, all he could see was light, a million bright stars, swirling around him. And then it was gone.
“It’s flowed back into you,” Jane whispered, her voice loud in the silence. “You may never see it in that form again, but now you know what sleeps inside you. I don’t want to be your enemy the day you figure out how to control it.”
Tick’s mind spun in countless directions, too confused and overwhelmed to grasp what had just happened or even formulate a question. “I don’t get it,” he said.
Jane stood up. “Neither do I, and I suspect Master George is clueless as well.” She held out a hand. “Come on.”
Tick took it and let her pull him up. “I’m a freak.”
Jane shook her head. “No, you’re not. If you’re a freak, then so am I.”
Tick thought of all the things he could’ve said to that, but he stopped himself. Jane had probably just saved his life. “What now? Looks like we’re not gonna try to kill each other, I guess.”
Jane looked down the hallway in the direction they’d been ordered to go once things were settled. “No, we’re not. And we’re not waiting until noon, either. Come on.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him along as she started walking.
“Wait!” Tick called out, snapping his hand back. He searched around until he spotted the leather satchel holding the antidote. He ran over and picked it up, then joined Jane again, still marching down the hallway. “Okay, what are we going to do?”
Jane paused before answering. “You and I are going to stop Chu. Right now.”
Chapter
42
Sofia’s Task
Sofia stood by the small cave leading to the elevator shaft, leaning back against the warm stone of the dusty canyon wall. Master George had asked her to wait there until he could speak to her; at the moment, he was explaining to Paul how to use the Sonic Hurricaner, the Shurric. Sofia had picked it up easily and destroyed three huge boulders in quick succession.
The Static Ragers fascinated her, though. She watched as a Realitant woman threw one along the ground with a quick jerk of her arm. A sharp crack filled the air, then a low rumble of thunder as the Rager rolled forward, gaining speed and size with every passing second. Everything in its path—dirt, mud, rocks, bushes—compacted together in a huge chunky sphere, snowballing as it rolled. When the Rager finally smashed into a test boulder, both objects exploded in a spectacular display of earthy fireworks.
Awesome, Sofia thought. She couldn’t wait to hurl one at Chu himself.
Master George was walking toward her, shouting at the Realitants scattered around the riverside. “Everyone! Back up we go. We can’t spare another second!”
As the two dozen or so people gathered their weapons and headed for the elevator, Master George touched Sofia lightly on the arm, leading her out of earshot of the others.
“We must talk before you go,” he said in a low voice.
“Rutger told me you had something special you wanted me to do.”
Master George nodded, his mouth pursed with worry. “Indeed, my good Sofia, indeed.”
When he didn’t say anything more, Sofia said, “Well?”
“Ah, yes, sorry.” He pulled a tiny silver pen out of his pocket and held it up for her to see. It had no distinguishing features other than a clicker at the top and a small black clasp on the side for attaching it to a shirt pocket or notebook. “I felt I must trust you with this. Please take it—but don’t push the button.”
Sofia took it from his hand and held it with only the tips of two fingers, as if its surface might contain some poison. “What is it?”