The Blade of Shattered Hope (Page 64)

Sato pointed at three Fifths, one by one. “You, you, and you,” he said, making another note to learn these peoples’ names. “Come with me.”

Rutger finally realized he wasn’t being listened to. “Hey, what’s going on?”

“Just be quiet,” Sato replied. “Let’s go.”

He moved away from the rest of them with the three Fifths he’d chosen right on his heels. Keeping his eyes glued to the spot where he’d seen the movement, Sato ran for the forest. He’d made it about halfway to the tree when a figure darted out from behind it—an oddly shaped, wispy thing. It seemed to fly through the air like a ghost, quickly disappearing deeper into the dark woods.

Then other creatures did the same, darting out from behind at least a dozen other trees that lined the boundary between the field and the forest. They were all like living, flying shadows, gone before Sato got a better look.

He stopped and held up a hand. “Those had to be some kind of spies or guards. Now Jane or whoever’s in charge of this place definitely knows we’re here. I hope I didn’t—”

A commotion from behind cut him off. He turned to see Rutger excitedly pointing toward the far bend of the wooden fence to the right, where the group of Fifths that had gone in that direction was already coming back, marching along through the slippery mud.

“Something’s wrong,” Sato half-whispered. “They shouldn’t be back yet.”

He headed in that direction, running as fast as he could, determined to meet up with them and see what was happening. He’d only gone about a hundred feet when he noticed several of the Fifths working together to carry large wooden boxes. Also, two newcomers were with them, looking very out of place. Sato almost fell down, already knowing what this meant and feeling like they’d won their first victory.

It was Master George—his Barrier Wand in tow—and Sally from headquarters.

More importantly, Sato was sure the boxes they carried had weapons inside them.

Chapter 46

A Very Bad Smell

Tick, man,” Paul whispered to him as they followed Jane down the seemingly endless tunnels. “What’s going on? Is she for real about that staff of hers? Is it some kind of Barrier Wand on steroids?”

Tick shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. But I can’t risk anything right now. We just need to stick with her and wait for the Haunce to come, I guess. Don’t do anything to tick her off!”

“Tick her off,” Sofia repeated through a halfhearted laugh. “That has meaning on so many levels, it’s ridiculous.”

Paul snickered. “I gare-on-tee you could take her, Superman. I’m not worried.”

Tick rolled his eyes even though the others probably couldn’t tell. He wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone, much less hear the junk about his powers. Despite what had happened so far, he felt no more like a superhero than he would a bird if someone glued wings on his back.

Jane reached a large shiny, metal door, big silver bolts lining the edges. It seemed almost too modern for the cavernous feel of the tunnels through which they’d been walking forever.

As they approached the door, Tick felt an increase in magnitude of the womps—the rhythmic pulses vibrating his teeth and skull.

Jane turned around to face them. The firekelt stood slightly ahead of her and to the left, and the light from its flames illuminated her perfectly. She spoke in her desert-sand voice.

“I don’t know what you’ve heard about the Factory, but you’re about to witness it firsthand. I’ll admit that my pride has gotten the better part of me today. I desperately want to show this to the three of you—especially you, Atticus. Otherwise I wouldn’t bother with the extra protection of my Barrier Staff and would’ve killed you already. Your lingering presence in the Realities is beginning to disturb me. Greatly.”

“So you’re gonna show us your evil factory and then kill us?” Paul asked, his tone full of the usual sarcasm. “What is this, a bad James Bond movie?” Jane’s mask didn’t show any anger. Tick thought she probably didn’t want to give Paul the satisfaction. “Please, boy. What you’re about to see will be so above your mental capacity and intellect that even if you escaped, you’d barely be able describe it, much less share any of my secrets. Just consider this a whim of mine. Nothing more.”

“You said you’d hear me out,” Tick said. “We don’t have time for this!”

“Patience, Atticus. A short trip through my house of wonders, and then you can talk. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll be the only one talking from this point on.”

“Could you maybe drink some cough syrup first?” Paul asked.

This time Jane’s mask did fill with rage as she pointed the upper tip of the Staff at Paul. An instant later, his entire body lifted up from the ground and slammed against the wall. He tried to scream, but nothing came out—only a slight gurgling in the bottom of his throat. His face turned purple with pain, and his hands squeezed into fists.

“Stop it, Jane!” Tick yelled, unable to stop the surge of Chi’karda that ignited inside him. “Leave him alone!”

Jane pointed the Staff at Tick; Paul dropped in a heap of arms and legs onto the floor. “Don’t even think about it, Atticus. Pull your Chi’karda back, right now!”

Tick closed his eyes for a second, calming his heart. The spits of lava flaring in his chest puttered out, cooled. He still breathed heavily, though, as he looked at Jane once again. “You didn’t have to do that to him.”

Paul groaned and shifted his body. At least he seemed okay.

Jane’s mask still held onto its anger. “I don’t like him. He’s a smart aleck. Tell him to keep his mouth shut.” Her face melted back into the void as she turned toward the silver door once again.

Sofia immediately moved to help Paul to his feet, being more gentle than Tick had ever seen her before. Paul hunched over slightly, his face maybe forever locked into a grimace of pain, but, surprisingly, he said nothing.

Sofia looked at Tick and mouthed the words, “We’re dead.”

Tick shook his head adamantly but didn’t say anything. Movement from Jane grabbed his attention.

She placed her right hand on the center of the silver door. Shocked, Tick watched as the metal seemed to liquefy at her touch. Jane’s hand sank into the gray goop up to the wrist. A second later she pulled her hand back out again. Tick expected the metal surface to ripple like a pond, but it didn’t, solidifying instantly instead.