Paul and Sofia stared at him, apparently at a loss for words, a minor miracle with those two.
“Anyway,” Tick continued, “it felt really good. I still think I’m a long way from controlling it anytime I want to, but this was about a billion times better than what happened a few months ago. Back then it was like somebody had ripped my spirit out of my body, and I couldn’t do anything about it.”
“What is the power?” Paul asked. “I mean, you’re doing some crazy stuff here, dude.”
“It’s Chi’karda, brainiac,” Sofia answered. “We know that much. For some reason Tick has a ton of it.”
Paul shook his head. “I know it’s Chi’karda—at least, that’s what Master Georgie boy over there thinks.” He pointed to the snoozing man, who looked a little ridiculous all dressed up in a prison cell. “But what does that mean?”
“What do you mean, what does it mean?” Sofia said.
“I mean, what does it mean?”
Sofia blew out a loud breath. “I don’t know what it means.”
“Man,” Tick said, “we are really making progress here.”
They stayed quiet for awhile, and then Sofia broke the silence. “Well, we can leave the science side of it to Master George and the Realitants. We just need to help you learn how to control it so we can use it. As a weapon.”
“Yeah,” Paul agreed. “How about right now? I don’t think I’m up for hanging around here much longer.”
Weapon. For some reason that word gave Tick the chills. He didn’t want to think of himself as a potential killing device. “It doesn’t matter right now. I can’t feel anything, not even a flicker.”
“Maybe you need to be ticked off,” Paul said. “Here, let me kick you in the—”
“I’m good, thanks.” Tick scooted away.
“Just start thinking about stuff,” Sofia suggested. “Think about Jane and what she’s done to us and how we’re sitting in this prison. Think about your . . .” She didn’t finish, looking at the ground as if she’d just confessed something horrible.
Tick felt tears glisten his eyes. “You were going to say sisters. Think about my sisters.”
Sofia looked up at him, then nodded.
“Maybe that’s why I’m so empty,” Tick said, hearing the gloom in his own voice. “She threatened to hurt them if I try anything, so my subconscious won’t even let me get close to trying.”
“Man,” Paul said, “guess we shouldn’t expect you to, then. Too risky.”
“What are we going to do?” Sofia pleaded.
Master George stirred to their right, grunting as he rolled over and pushed himself into a sitting position. He let out a huge yawn while rubbing his eyes. “Goodness gracious me, how long have I been sleeping?”
“Couple hours,” Tick said.
“I had the strangest dream,” the leader of the Realitants said in a groggy voice. “I was in your basement, Master Atticus, and I saw a person in a big rabbit suit. It was a very creepy bunny. Quite disturbing. I woke up just as the person started to take off his head. What I would give to have seen the face beneath the mask.”
“It’s symbolic,” Sofia said. “Jane wears a mask now. I’m sure it’s her you would’ve seen.”
“Uh, what about the whole bunny thing?” Paul asked with a slight snicker.
“Well,” Master George began, clearing his throat, embarrassed. “I was, er, a bit frightened of bunnies as a child.”
Tick shocked himself when he laughed out loud. So did Paul.
“Poke fun if you must,” Master George countered, though he had a smile on his face. “You try falling into a cage filled with a dozen hungry rabbits and see how—”
A loud metal clang cut him off, and they all turned to see the iron-grilled door to their cell swing open. Standing behind it in the hallway was Mistress Jane, still dressed in her yellow robe and her expressionless red mask. There was a cart next to her, loaded with several plates of steaming food.
“My, you all look cozy,” she said. “I’ve brought you something to eat. I can’t have you starving to death before our big plans come to fruition.” She pushed the cart into the cell then swung the heavy door shut again. Its clanking ring echoed like some haunted musical instrument.
She turned to walk away, apparently done with them.
“Where are we?” Master George shouted at her.
Jane stopped, but did not look at them. “You’re in the Thirteenth Reality, George. Though it won’t be called that much longer.”
She started walking again, and soon was out of sight.
Chapter 14
Questions
without Answers
Mothball’s dad was actually shorter than his wife, and, impossibly, even nicer. His dark hair and the angled features of his face would have looked hard and cold except for the permanent smile breaking it all up. He ushered Sato and the others into the huge living room, where they all sat down with cups of steaming hot tea. His name was Tollaseat, and he wore a bright red sweater with his drab-colored pants. He looked about as unfashionable as a person could possibly get.
As for the inside of the house, it was finely decorated. Bookshelves made of a dark and shiny wood were everywhere, some of them stocked with leather-bound books, others with various porcelain sculptures, dishes, and other knickknacks. The furniture all seemed a little fancy, with frilly carvings and flower prints and lacy stuff here and there. But at least the chairs were comfortable, and the soft carpet was easily three inches thick. Over a huge fireplace—which looked like it could burn an entire forest in no time—hung a portrait of an old woman just as tall and awkward-looking as Mothball and her mother.
“So,” Tollaseat said, his voice like a massive tolling bell, “Sato, my friend, I can’t tell you how nice it is to finally meet you.”
“Thanks,” Sato said, nodding with a curt smile. He couldn’t quite settle down, trying desperately to come to terms with his connection to the recently murdered ruler of the Fifth Reality. Why would a fifteen-year-old kid be the leader of an entire planet? It was just too bizarre. And if those Bugaboo soldiers—what a ridiculous name!—really wanted him dead . . .
Rutger cleared his throat. He was perched on a chair, his short legs dangling like a little kid’s. He glanced sidelong at Sato. “You’ll have to excuse our new Realitant friend. He’s not one for a lot of words. I’m sure he’s very happy to meet you too.”