Tick closed his eyes for a few seconds, then opened them again. He realized suddenly that the woman sitting next to him was crazy. Crazy and dangerous.

“Now,” Jane said. “There are a lot of things I need to tell you. I’m sure George has made you think I’m a monster, a cruel and heartless devil who cares nothing for the Realities or their people. Nothing could be further from the truth.”

Tick looked up. “How can you say that? I saw Annika die—killed by those disgusting monsters you created! Then you tried to have them kill me!”

Mistress Jane held up a finger to silence him. “I want you to be quiet. Do you understand this request?”

“Why should I—”

Jane flicked her finger. Something yanked Tick from the bench and threw him three feet into the air, spinning his body in the middle of the room. He screamed, thrashing his arms and legs. He spun faster, the unseen force gripping him like invisible claws as it wheeled him about, pinching and battering him.

“Stop it!” he yelled. “Put me down!”

The force vanished in an instant, and he crashed to the floor, one leg bent awkwardly beneath his body. He cried out as he squirmed to the side and pulled it straight. Gasping for breath, he pushed himself to his knees and stared at Jane, his eyes on fire.

“Why would you—”

“Silence!” she screamed, cutting him off again as she stood up, her face flashing red. “You will come over here. You will sit. And you will listen. Do you understand?”

Tick felt as if his old nemesis, Billy “The Goat” Cooper, had just sucker punched him in the stomach three times. Fighting tears, he slowly got to his feet and walked back to the bench. Without looking at Mistress Jane, swearing to himself he would never look her in the eyes again, he sat down.

After a few seconds of silence, Jane sat as well, crossing her legs again.

“Atticus,” she said, almost in a whisper, as if she hadn’t spent the last minute torturing him. “This . . . these are the things about me I don’t like. My temper, my impatience, my quickness to anger. I’ve tried very hard in recent weeks to better myself. To improve myself and be kinder to others.”

Tick snorted with all the disgust he could muster. “Yeah, obviously.”

Mistress Jane paused. “Think what you will. But know this—if Reginald had challenged me to kill you two months ago, perhaps even one month ago, your body would even now be rotting beneath several feet of earth. I have changed my ways as best I can, but my goal remains the same as it has always been—to save the Realities. I will never waver from it.”

Tick clenched his hands together, still staring at the white floor. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“Reginald needs us, Atticus. He needs someone very powerful to help him with his project. His Dark Infinity project. And the two of us were the only ones he deemed worthy enough for the test—you with your silly riddles and death-defying adventures, and me with the simple task of killing you. Only one winner. Only one apprentice for Chu.”

Tick leaned back against the wall and looked at Jane, already breaking his vow. “How could he possibly think that killing me would be a challenge for you? That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Jane smiled, her green eyes flickering with a dark flame. “Atticus. Boy. You have no idea what you’ve done these past days. What you’re capable of doing. Though I don’t yet understand it, I have no shame in admitting that you have more potential than even I do. And you’ve done it without the benefit of living in the Thirteenth and soaking in its quantum mutations.”

Tick shook his head and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, resuming his study of the floor. “You don’t need to talk anymore—you’ve proven that you’re crazy ten times already.” From the corner of his eye, he noticed Jane’s hands quiver. She folded them together and paused a long time before speaking again.

“I’m going to tell you a story, Atticus,” she said in a calm, quiet voice. “I want to tell you so you’ll understand me. I only ask that you listen without interrupting. Will you do that for me?”

Tick didn’t say anything, but he couldn’t help feeling a surge of curiosity. He finally nodded.

Mistress Jane began. “I’m a scientist, Atticus. I have been since my earliest memories, experimenting in the backyard and reading every book in the library on the laws of nature. I have lived it and breathed it, as they say. Twenty years ago

I was recruited into the Realitants, in much the same way you were. It didn’t take long for me to master the wonders of quantum physics and excel in my assigned missions to study and document the Realities. By my third year, I was the most powerful of all the Realitants, and everyone knew it.”

She paused, as if her pride wanted to ensure Tick realized what she’d said. That she was the best of the best.

Tick didn’t move or say a word, and Jane finally continued.

“But then something happened, Atticus. Something tragic that still wakes me in the night, haunting me with visions and memories. I fell in love.”

Tick couldn’t help but look up at her. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but this surprised him.

Jane nodded. “I won’t speak his name to you because your ears aren’t worthy to hear it. And please”—she held out a hand and lightly caressed his arm then pulled back—“I don’t mean that as an insult to you. It’s just that . . . his name is sacred to me, and I’ve sworn to never say it aloud. I hope you understand.”

“I don’t care what his name was,” Tick mumbled under his breath.

Jane’s hands shook again, and Tick winced. Shut up, Tick, he thought. Don’t say another word or she might twist your head off!

“He loved the color yellow.” Jane laughed, a distant, surprisingly light-hearted chuckle that faded as quickly as it began. “It was strange how much he loved the color. Yellow shirts were his favorite; he painted the walls of his home yellow. And he always gave me daisies and daffodils. I asked him once why he loved it so much and he told me it was because yellow represented peace. And if anything described the life and purpose of that man, it was peace.”

Tick rolled his eyes, quickly rubbing his face to hide it from Jane.

“I loved him, Atticus. I loved him so much. It hurt me when I had to say good-bye to him and attend to my Realitant missions and assignments. It hurt me when he kissed me good night, whenever his hand let go of mine. That’s the only way I can truly describe how much he meant to me. I loved him so much, it hurt. I would have done anything to take away that pain, to be with him every second of every day. I loved him so much, I almost hated him.”