Master George patted her arm and leaned back in his chair. “Thank you, my dear. Yes, yes, I’m quite certain my suspicions are correct. Quite certain, indeed. I fear our problems are much deeper than we thought. Oh, goodness gracious me.”

“What?” Paul said, his joy and relief from the vanished pain fading at the haunted look that crossed Master George’s face. “How could it possibly be worse? What are you talking about?”

“It’s Tick,” Rutger grumbled. “It’s Tick.”

Sofia’s head shot up. “What do you mean, it’s Tick?”

Master George stood, any sign of the jolly old English gentleman gone, his face set in a stony expression of concern.

“Master Atticus is out of control,” he said. “He’s obviously not even aware of the power that’s bursting from him. Tick’s inexplicable abilities over the Chi’karda are completely and absolutely out of control. It appears he’s manipulating matter on the quantum level—destroying it, reshaping it, restructuring it. It seems to be triggered when he is frightened or angry. I cannot stress enough the danger of such a thing.”

Paul felt like someone had just ripped his brain out, stomped on it, then shoved it back in his skull. “You mean Tick did all that weird stuff with the trees . . . and the

glass . . . ?”

“Quite right, Master Paul, quite right. Now imagine an out-of-control Atticus in the vicinity of Chu and his Dark Infinity device.” Master George brought a hand to his chin and shuddered. “My fellow Realitants, we now have a new number-one priority. Tick must be stopped at all costs, or he might trigger a chain reaction that could destroy every last Reality. We need to bring him back here, where we can figure things out.”

He paused. “Again, I can’t stress it enough: Atticus Higginbottom must be stopped.”

Part

4

The New Mistress Jane

Chapter

38

A Time for Slumber

Tick was exhausted by the time Chu stopped and turned to face them. The hallway continued on for as far as Tick could see, but Chu opened a hidden passage to his right by placing the palm of his hand on a square section of a metal wall. A hissing noise sounded as the panel slid to the right and disappeared, revealing a long corridor with doors spaced at regular intervals on either side—maybe forty in all. The doors were made of wood but had no handles.

“It’s late,” Chu said, motioning the two of them to step into the new hallway. “You’ll both be confined to a cell for the night, where I expect you to get sufficient rest for tomorrow’s events. Much will be decided when the sun rises, and before it sets, one of you will be dead. Or both. Think on that as you sleep.”

Tick fought the sudden urge to push Chu out of the way and run. Oddly, he wanted Mistress Jane to yell at Chu, to use her powers against the creepy man. With a lump in his throat, Tick realized that the woman Master George had deemed the most evil to ever live had become his ally and his only hope. It sickened him, and he didn’t know how he could ever sleep.

“I could use a good night’s rest,” Jane said, stepping into the corridor as she ran a hand through her black hair. “Which one is my room?”

Chu made a quick gesture and a door on either side popped open, swinging outward. The hallway was narrow enough for him to reach out and grab both doors, holding them open. “The lady to my right, the boy to my left. You’ll find food, a shower, fresh clothes—everything you need. But rest is your priority. In you go.”

Tick looked at Mistress Jane, but she didn’t return his glance. She simply nodded to Chu and entered her room. Chu slammed the door closed; it sealed with a hiss.

“In, boy,” he said.

From somewhere within him, courage swelled in Tick’s chest. “You won’t win. The Realitants know everything, and they’ll be coming for you.”

Chu glanced at the leather satchel slung over Tick’s shoulder, his eyes lingering.

Stupid! Tick thought. You shouldn’t have said anything!

“In, boy,” Chu repeated.

This time, Tick kept his mouth shut and quickly entered the room. He’d barely crossed the threshold when the door slammed shut behind him.

“It’s very late,” Master George said, walking at such a brisk pace down the dark hallway that Paul had to jog to keep up with him and the others. “But before we slumber, I must show you one last thing. Tomorrow is perhaps the biggest day any of us will ever face—and I want you to know exactly what’s at stake.”

He paused in front of a steel door with a heavy bolt thrust through its lock. He reached out and slid a small, two-inch peephole open, the scrape of metal piercing the air.

“I want each of you to look in here, for as long as you can stand it. Then we will speak one last time before we say good night.”

Master George stepped aside and gestured for Sofia to go first.

As she peeked through the small slot, Paul saw her body go rigid, her hands clenched into tight fists. She finally looked away after several seconds.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” she yelled, looking accusingly at everyone in turn. “What’s wrong with him?”

Paul pushed past her and looked through the hole in the door. His breath caught when he saw Sato, his arms and legs strapped to a bed in several places. Despite the number of constraints, he still thrashed about madly, ropes of veins bulging under his skin, his face red from the effort. Dark bruises and scrapes marked where he fought against the straps.

His lips moved as he screamed something, spit flying, but a wall of glass between the door and the bed trapped the sound in and Paul couldn’t hear a word. Paul didn’t know if he’d ever seen something so heartbreaking. He finally stepped back, wondering if the image would ever leave his mind.

“What’s wrong with him?” he whispered.

“Yeah, what’s wrong with him!” Sofia shouted.

Master George took a deep breath. “Sato was infected with the Dark Infinity plague—the very thing Tick has been sent to destroy with the antidote. You need to know that Sato displayed a supreme effort of sacrifice and courage to bring us the sample we required. But even more important, you need to know there are thousands, perhaps millions, who are in the same state as this poor boy.”

Paul and Sofia locked eyes, not saying a word, but sharing the horror of what they’d just seen. Sato, Paul thought. Oh, man, Sato.