“Paul’s an idiot,” she said as she let go and stepped back. “And he never knows how to say anything. But he’s right. We’ll get your family back, don’t worry. There’s no way she’ll . . . hurt them. Then she’d have nothing to threaten you with. I think she’s terrified of you.”

“Terrified?” a voice asked behind him.

Tick spun around to see Mistress Jane standing in the hallway, her red mask glaring at them with eyebrows raised.

“Where are they?” he shouted at her.

“They are safe for now,” she replied, her face melting back into that non-expression she wore most of the time. “I decided there were too many of you to keep track of. Plus, your parents have been winked to a different location than where your sisters are. I now have double collateral to hang over your head. I sense even a spark of Chi’karda surge out of you, and one of them dies. On and on until they’re all dead. If something bad happens to me, they all die at once. I trust you’ll not test me on this.”

Tick fumed more with every word that popped out of her mouth. It took all his concentration to keep the warmth from igniting to pure heat inside his chest. But he also felt a slight glimmer of hope. Based on what she’d said, it seemed like she couldn’t sense his surges of Chi’karda as long as he kept them at bay. Maybe, when the time was right, he could let the power build and build, unleashing it all in one powerful explosion before she could react or send a message to anyone.

What am I thinking? he thought. I don’t even know what I’m talking about. I can’t control this stuff. It was just as likely he’d kill himself and his friends as it was he’d kill Jane.

“I’ll take your silence as a sign that you understand the situation.” Jane’s arm shifted slightly, and the lock on the door sprung open with a loud click. The metal hinges groaned and squealed, and the door swung open. “And the same goes for any one of you. Try anything, and Tick’s family will suffer the consequences. If we run out of Higginbottoms, we’ll just have to do some hunting for Pacinis and Rogers. Or perhaps the tall ugly woman and her little pet, the ball of fat named Rutger. Do we all understand one another?”

When no one responded, Jane’s scream pierced the air like a burst of thunder. “Answer me!”

“Yes,” Tick said quickly, as did Paul and Sofia. The best she got out of Master George was a firm nod.

Jane stepped through the door and into the cell, standing very close to Tick. “We will be winking to a specific location here in the Thirteenth. Frazier has set up several spinners and monitors so all of you can best witness what happens today. When it’s over, you’ll spread the word, and we can begin the process of my taking over the Realities and putting the Utopia Initiative into full swing.”

Master George laughed, a slow, condescending chuckle. Tick braced himself for Jane’s reaction. He didn’t see what was funny. Though he didn’t know what she was talking about, her words had been like icy daggers scraping down his spine. She had something terrible planned, no doubt about it.

But Jane didn’t explode with her usual anger. “Laugh all you want, George. Giggle, chortle, snicker, whatever pleases you most. A couple of hours from now, when you see what I do, you may never make such jolly sounds ever again. The Blade of Shattered Hope, George. Soulikens. Dark Matter. These are things you aren’t even close to understanding yet.”

Master George’s face now showed no humor whatsoever. It burned red, almost as if he wore his own mask. “Words, Jane. Anyone can say fancy words, trying their best to sound smarter than others. You keep telling us you have this diabolical plan. Well, then, what is it?”

Jane paused before answering, the corners of her metallic lips curving upward slightly. “I’m going to destroy the Fifth Reality.”

Master George huffed. “Destroy it? What kind of nonsense is this? A mess of atomic bombs come across your path recently?”

Jane’s mask turned a darker shade of red, something Tick hadn’t thought possible. However, her expression didn’t change. It was still set in that mocking half-smile. For a long time, she just stared at Master George.

“Jane,” he finally said, “I worry your mind has slipped down a slope from which it can’t be saved.”

“You mistake my silence, George,” Jane replied. “I’m surprised, actually. I’m baffled that you could be so short-sighted. So . . . stupid.”

“What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“Do you really not understand my power over Chi’karda? Even before my . . . union with the core of Dark Infinity, I almost had the ability to do what I plan for today. Now, it will be done with absolute certainty.”

“Well,” Sofia chimed in, “quit talking about it and tell us what your big bad plan is.”

Tick winced. She and Master George weren’t being smart about this. Couldn’t they see that Jane was deadly serious? Ticking her off even more was a very, very bad idea. But when Jane responded, her voice was as calm and collected as anything Tick had ever heard come out of her mouth.

“The Blade of Shattered Hope will collect every souliken from my Alterants, channel them into the necessary components, and ignite the dark matter within. The Blade will then slice the Fifth Reality from existence. Forever.” She paused, then took a step forward. “Let me say it slowly for you, George. The Fifth will . . . be . . . no . . . more.”

Chapter 17

Tale of the Iron Poker

As Sato devoured his third helping of the duck dumpling stew, he realized he’d gone at least five minutes without thinking about the whole nonsense of his Alterant being the ruler of a Reality before being murdered. There is something about tasty food that tends to wash your troubles away. And Tollaseat’s food was, without hesitation or doubt, the most excellent stuff Sato had ever put in his mouth.

“This is good,” he mumbled between bites, probably having said those three words a dozen times by now. “This is really good.”

“Glad ya like it, I am.” Tollaseat leaned back in his chair and puffed on his pipe. He’d lit it after eating only one helping, and seemed to be enjoying every second of watching Sato eat like a starved hyena.

“Quite good, it was,” Mothball pitched in, folding her arms and looking very satisfied.