“That’d be perfect,” Sato said, trying to soften his words with a smile, trying to return to the good mood of his earlier determination to fight the Bugs and his excitement at spending the night in the Fifth Reality. “Seriously, I mean it, though. Tollaseat, I’m going to get permission from George to come back and help. Whatever I can do.”
Tollaseat bowed his head in a deep nod. “I’m quite honored, Master Sato. I’ll ask around town for ways you . . .”
He trailed off, slowly lowering his cup back to the small table next to his chair. He looked confused.
“What is it, dear?” Windasill asked.
“What?” He focused on her. “Oh, well, I just had a thought. People will see that Sato here is a dead ringer for our deceased leader. Don’t know how we can get around that.”
“Makes a good point, he does,” Mothball said. “Sato, not sure we can be doin’ that. Quite risky. Might make folks talk and wonder.”
Sato couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of that very problem. How would that work to have someone come along who was the Alterant of your dead leader? He felt a pit of disappointment open up in his stomach.
“No matter,” Tollaseat said, waving his hand in the air. “Think on it, no rush. Things have been quite cool of late, not too many problems with the ruddy Bugs. Mayhaps when you get a bit older, look a bit different, when it’s . . . less obvious you’re not from these parts and couldn’t be him.”
Rutger suddenly chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” Mothball asked.
Rutger shrugged. “Could be quite a sight. Those clowns seeing their victim come back from the dead. Maybe they’d—”
A loud, horrible crash and the crunch of shattered glass cut him off. Sato jumped up, looking over in time to see hundreds of shards from the big window that overlooked the front yard blow inward, the glass bouncing and clinking off furniture as it fell to the floor.
Mothball’s mom yelped; Tollaseat called out something, but Sato couldn’t tell what he’d said. Rutger, who had been the closest to the window, seemed too shocked to move. Pieces of glass glittered in his hair and on his shoulders.
Everyone stared at the empty window as if waiting for someone to jump up and explain what had happened. In the silence, Sato heard the distant sounds of glass breaking in other parts of the house. Then, from outside, came a low, repeating pulse of noise, some kind of deep buzz or static, surging in short waves. He almost felt it more than heard it with his ears.
“What’s going on?” Sato asked. “What is that noise?”
“No ruddy idea,” Mothball answered.
The sound grew and intensified, making Sato’s head hurt. “What shou—”
He fell to the floor as the whole house started to shake and tremble.
Tick sat still, transfixed by the humming, throbbing black tree. Its waves of energy were almost visible to some sixth sense he didn’t quite understand. Since the noise had started, none of his friends had said a word, and Tick was sure they were as mesmerized and scared as he was.
The man Jane had called Frazier Gunn was walking from screen to screen, flicking the thin metal bar of each spinner that was attached to the exact center. He moved on without even waiting to make sure the spinner worked. As if by magic, and certainly by a technology Tick didn’t understand, the metal rods spun faster and faster, despite the seeming lack of any motor.
A shimmering silver disk, maybe four inches wide, appeared. Once the spinner hit full speed, a much larger, red-tinted projection shot out, creating a wide, hazy circle that covered most of the screen behind it. Only the white corners of the squares were visible. Tick knew that soon those red circles would turn into video feeds, as clear in quality as any movie he’d ever seen.
Just as Frazier flicked the last spinner, Mistress Jane came over to Tick and the others, seemingly done with whatever she’d been doing to make the menacing black tree hum as it did. She stopped a few feet in front of their line of chairs, her red mask looking somewhat weary. She stared directly at Tick.
“I’m going to explain everything to you,” she said, her voice tight. Strained. “And this isn’t some example of the bad guys telling the good guys the whole diabolical plan just in time for them to escape and save the day. No, I want you to know. Every last detail. Once you do, and once you witness the extent of my power, I’ll set you free so you can tell the other Realitants and spread the word throughout each world. Everyone must know what I’m capable of, and the reasons why it must happen.”
She paused, and the eyes of her mask, dark and deep, never wavered from Tick. “Correction. I’m going to set most of you free to spread the word. Atticus stays with me.”
Tick stood up, not sure where the courage came from. “What? Why? You promised you’d let me and my family go if I didn’t try to stop you.”
Jane’s scarred hand shot out from beneath the folds of her robe, her palm outward. At the same instant, Tick flew backward, hit by an unseen force that thumped him in the chest. He fell into his chair and toppled over, banging his head against the dusty, hard ground. Shaking it off, he scrambled to his feet and picked up his chair. Glaring at Jane, he took a seat, hating himself for being such a wimp. Not an ounce of Chi’karda flickered inside him.
Jane’s mask was a sneer. “I never made any such promise of letting you free, Atticus. Only your family. Now stay silent, or I’ll get rid of one of your sisters.”
Tick gripped the sides of his chair to stop his hands from shaking. He had to do something. This wasn’t right, letting this woman treat them this way. He had to do something!
Jane continued with her speech as if nothing had happened. “What you’ll be witnessing today is the first fully functional use of the most mysterious substance in the universe. Most scientists throughout the Realities don’t even know what it is, much less how to use it.”
“What are you talking about?” Master George said.
Jane didn’t take her eyes off Tick, answering her former boss without so much as the courtesy of a glance. “George, as usual, you speak to me with your condescending, I-know-more-than-you-do arrogance. Now shut up.”
Tick looked over at Master George, shocked at how childishly rude Jane’s command had been. The old man glowered, his face redder than ever, his lips quivering despite being pressed together so hard they were almost white. But he didn’t say anything.