The Blade of Shattered Hope Read online

  “Was?” Sato repeated, not knowing how to react to the strange revelation.

  Mothball’s mom answered, right after spitting on the ground. “Bugaboos killed him last month, they did, just weeks after he took office. Sacrificed hundreds of blokes to break through security and get to him. He was the most respected leader we’ve had in ages, despite being so young. Gone and dead now.”

  “Why . . . why’d they kill him?” Sato asked. He had an uncomfortable feeling this was leading somewhere he wouldn’t like. Mothball’s answer confirmed it.

  “They thought he was you.”

  Chapter

  13

  ~

  Sleepless in the Dark

  Drip.

  Drip.

  Drip.

  That was all Tick could hear, and it was driving him crazy. The others were asleep, and even though the soft sighs and snores of their slumber floated through the air, all his mind could focus on was that stupid dripping water.

  Drip.

  Drip.

  Drip.

  Everything had happened so fast after Jane revealed that she’d kidnapped his sisters, Lisa and Kayla. The news shocked every bit of surging power out of him, and he’d collapsed to the floor in defeat, knowing he couldn’t take the risk she might be lying. He couldn’t risk their lives. Not them.

  As soon as he’d given up, Jane had winked them all away. He didn’t know how she did it, or who helped her, but one instant they’d been in his basement, and the next they were here, in some kind of cell made of gray stone, damp and cold and dark, with that maddening drip of water as a constant companion. The only light was faint, coming from somewhere down a long hallway outside the bars of their prison.

  They’d been there for hours and hours. Every question in the world had been asked, every nook and cranny of the room examined, and they had shouted and screamed for help until their voices went hoarse. Then exhaustion crept in, and now everyone was asleep.

  Except Tick. He huddled with his back against the hard, cold wall, his arms wrapped around his knees, his hands clasped in front of him. He felt empty, like his mind and heart had become a complete void of space, sucking every last bit of strength and will away. Jane had his sisters—but who knew where or how or why. And he was here, with his mom and dad, his two best friends, and the leader of the Realitants, all of them captured and helpless.

  He’d tried several times to summon even the smallest trace of the power he’d felt against Jane in the basement of his house, but nothing came. Just emptiness. He floated in a void. A yucky, blecky, hopeless void.

  “Tick?”

  The voice startled him. He put his hands down to the ground, ready to spring to his feet. But a second later he realized it was Sofia, just a few feet from him, lying down with her head resting on her folded arms. She pushed herself into a sitting position and looked at him. He could barely see the features of her face, but they didn’t look as sad as he would’ve expected.

  “Still here,” he replied. “Did you actually fall asleep?”

  She yawned in response. “Think so. Had a bad dream.”

  “I wish this were a bad dream.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Dude, I finally snooze and you guys wake me up.” Paul was getting to his feet, rubbing his eyes. He made his way over to sit next to Tick and Sofia. “You think the geezer and your mom and dad are actually sleeping?”

  “I hope so,” Tick said. “They’re old—they need it.”

  “Actually,” Sofia whispered, “the younger you are, the more sleep you need. Just for the record.”

  Tick wasn’t in the mood for her smarts. “Whatever.”

  “So what do you think she’s up to?” Paul asked. “Jane the Beast, I mean. And what’s the deal with that robe and mask, the scratchy voice? Tick, you’re the only one who’s met her before—did she talk like that? Did she have that mask?”

  Tick shook his head and was happy to realize he didn’t feel any guilt at what Paul had just said. In fact, he wished she’d died. “Remember when I broke apart Dark Infinity and attacked her with it? I think it burned her and melted stuff all over her. Kind of like it . . . fused them together.”

  “And maybe it made her more powerful, too,” Sofia added. “Maybe she somehow kept the powers of Chu’s weapon. How else could she have winked into your basement and winked us all here?”

  “Huh?” Tick asked. “How do you know she did it? Not someone with a Barrier Wand?”

  Sofia pointed in front of her as if Jane were standing there. “Because I was staring at her the whole time. As soon as you quit trying to do whatever you were doing with your orange hocus-pocus stuff, she reached out with her hands and swept them through the air, like she was picking up a big pile of leaves and throwing them. Then I felt the tingle, and next thing I know, we’re here.”

  “What were you doing to her, anyway?” Paul asked.

  The question hit Tick like a thump in his chest. He hesitated, not knowing what to say.

  “Hello?” Paul pushed. “Earth calling Atticus Higgin-bottom.”

  Tick shifted to get more comfortable. “I don’t know, man. It’s hard enough to understand it in my brain, much less explain it to you guys.”

  “Well, try,” Sofia said. “If we can help you figure out these freaky powers of yours, we might get out of here someday.”

  Freaky powers, Tick thought. Did she have to say it that way? After a long pause, he cleared his throat and resolved to tell them everything. “Every time I’ve had an . . . episode, I feel this heat in my chest and gut, something burning inside me. I’ve been able to push it down a couple times recently and make it go away.”

  “Hey,” Paul said, “at least that’s progress over what you did at Chu’s shack. Maybe you’re learning to control it.”

  Tick nodded. “Maybe. Anyway, in my basement, I kind of panicked when Jane started talking, and when the heat came, I didn’t stop it. I . . . encouraged it, tried to hold onto it, make it grow. It was like I had these mental hands, trying to clasp invisible fingers around an invisible . . . something. I don’t know—I can’t describe it. It took a lot of focus and concentration. Then, I just mentally threw it at her. I guess I attacked her just by thinking it and wanting it.”

  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.”

  “Ah,” Tollaseat scoffed, waving at the air with both hands. “No bother, really, no bother at all. We’re simply thrilled to have the lot of you come and sit a spell. No need for jabbering and such.”

  Sato had to figure this out. “Could someone please explain to me about my Alterant? How could these psycho clown soldiers possibly think I’d come to this world and become the . . . what did you call it?”

  “Grand Minister,” Windasill said quietly, as if indulging a child taking a quiz.

  Sato snapped his fingers. “Yeah, that. How could they think I’d become the Grand Minister of the Fifth Reality? And why would they want to kill me in the first place?”

  Mothball was sitting directly across from him. She leaned forward and put her elbows on her knees. “We think the Bugs and Mistress Jane have gone off and made some type of nasty arrangement. Mayhaps done it quite some time ago. And we reckon old Jane put out the scoop on you and your friends. Looking for revenge, she was. Just happens that your Alterant became our Minister, and the Bugs thought maybe we’d planted you. Replaced Sato Tadashi in a swap. Like we’d wanna ruddy take over the Reality or some such nonsense.”

  “They must be the dumbest people in the universe,” Rutger muttered.

  “No, no, my friend,” Tollaseat said, shaking his head. “Crazy, vicious, bloodsucking tyrants, maybe. But not dumb. That I can promise ya.”

  Sato ran a hand through his hair, not sure which bothered him more: that his Alterant just happened to be the ruler of an entire planet, or that a group of crazy clown soldiers wanted him dead. Scratch that, he thought. The second one was definitely worse.

  “Wait a minute,” he said, just realizing something that should’ve been obvious from the start. “How could they possibly think that guy was me? Wouldn’t he have been way taller?”

  “Not really,” Tollaseat answered. “Most of us chaps here in the Fifth don’t hit our growth spurts ’til we hit drinkin’ age. That not the same in your neck of the woods?”

  Sato shrugged his shoulders wearily. “This is weird,” he said, as if those three words summed up everything. Maybe they did. “I really feel like I’m missing something. And why’d you guys bring me here if you knew all this?”

  Mothball’s face scrunched up into a look of apology. “Sorry ’bout that. Really I am. Never thought we’d run into the Bugs. They ’aven’t been about much lately, according to me parents. Thought their troubles with these parts was quite well and over.”

  “Quite true,” Tollaseat added. “Had our wars with ’em blokes back when Mothball was a wee one, but not seen ’em much since. No idea why they’re up in the deadie fields today. Strange, really.”

  Sato folded his arms and stared at the floor. Staying here much longer didn’t sound like a good idea. “Well, maybe we should go back to headquarters. If those clowns want to kill me, I’d just as soon not be hanging out a couple of miles from them.”

  “Leave before supper?” Tollaseat exclaimed, shooting up from his seat. “Not a chance. I’ve got all three ovens runnin’ top heat, cookin’ a feast like you’ve never seen before, young man. Bugs ’ave no idea you’re ’ere, I’d bet me left shoe. You just sit there and enjoy yourself with me wife and daughter while I go ready things up.”

  Windasill reached out and patted S
ato on the knee. “I married the best cook in the entire valley, I did. Good thing me blood runs fast and hot, or I’d look like poor Rutger sitting over there.”

  Sato felt his eyes widen. He glanced quickly over at Rutger, who didn’t seem fazed in the least by the rude comment.

  “I’d rather be down close to the ground,” the man said. “Safe and balanced, fat and happy. Lot better than looking like a bunch of dusty bones with clothes.”

  Windasill laughed, the nicest sound Sato remembered hearing in a long time. “Oh, Rutger, we do love you so. Every last inch of you—and that’s saying quite a lot.” Giggling, she left the room, presumably to help her husband in the kitchen.

  Once she was gone, Sato sat up straighter and glared first at Rutger, then Mothball. “This is crazy. Is all that stuff true?”

  “Right as rain,” Mothball replied. “What’s all the fuss? We’ll have our dinner and be on our way, we will.”

  Rutger rolled forward until he plopped off the chair and onto his feet. “If anything, you’re safer than ever. They think they killed you, remember? Calm down, and let’s go eat. I’m—”

  “Let me guess,” Sato interrupted. “Starving.”

  “How’d you know?”

  “Come on, funny bunnies,” Mothball said, standing up on her tall legs. “I could use a bite to eat myself.” She reached down and swatted Rutger on the back before moving toward the kitchen, her best friend right on her heels.

  Sato stared at their backs until they disappeared out of the room. How weird had his life become? He was standing in a house that made him feel like he was four feet tall, in an entirely different world, about to eat dinner with three giants and a man shaped like a big beach ball, in a place where his twin had been the leader of the entire planet and had been assassinated by insane men dressed like clowns.

  Could it get any stranger?

  Refusing to answer that question, he walked quickly out of the room and toward the wonderful smells wafting from the kitchen.

  Chapter