The Void of Mist and Thunder (The 13th Reality #4) (27 page)

Tick’s heart lifted when he passed a clump of trees close to the road and saw the turn into his neighborhood come into view. He’d been lightly jogging and now picked up his pace to a full sprint, eager to run up the steps of his porch and rip the door open. He knew everyone would be there. Safe and sound and happy. He knew it. He was completely ignoring the small part of him that worried something horrible had happened. That they
wouldn’t
be there. Or worse.

This was why he had come. He needed to know for sure. Master George was probably ranting and raving by now, but he’d deal with that when he got back. Soon. He was just about to reach the street, less than thirty feet away, when he heard a loud noise from somewhere above him.

It was a bang, instant and piercing, like the clang of two giant iron pots. Times a thousand. Tick was so startled that he cried out and fell to the ground, rolling off the road and down the slight decline. He came to a stop in the dirt, on his back, looking up to search for what could have possibly been the source of such an awful sound. He saw a blur of flashing light and something silvery and long above him, accompanied by a great whooshing sound, like the thrust of rockets. Wind tore through the air and ripped at his clothes, sending dust and pebbles scattering down the slope.

Holding up his forearm to shield his eyes, his vision finally cleared enough to see the thing that had suddenly appeared in the sky over his head. It was a thick rectangle of silver metal, roughly the size and shape of a coffin. Its surface was smooth, without any seams, and the lights that flashed around it made no sense to Tick, as if they were being created by invisible protrusions from the flying object. Whatever it was, the push of air from the silver coffin was like a hurricane blast, growing stronger as it hovered in the air.

Then it slowly descended toward Tick.

He flopped onto his stomach, got his hands beneath him, and pushed up to jump to his feet. He slipped and slid as his arms windmilled, fighting to gain his balance on the small hill. He’d just gained solid purchase when there was a clicking sound right behind his ears. The noise sent a burst of terror through him, though he didn’t understand why, and he burst into a sprint, not even taking a chance to look back.

He’d only gone a few yards when a thin cable of something strong slipped around his stomach, coiled tight, and ripped his body up into the air.

Chapter 39

A Rebound of Power

Tick’s initial shout turned into a strangled grunt as the cord pinched into his stomach and he vaulted away from the ground. His body doubled over as he grabbed the ridged metal of the thing that had captured him—it felt like a wire on an old telephone pole. He twisted and kicked with his feet and tried to pull the thing loose, to no avail. He continued to rise, the sight of the road replaced by the tops of trees, all of it making his head spin and his stomach flip. Giving up on the cord, he tried to turn so he could see what held him.

The blocky silver rectangle was pulling him along, the metal cord coming out of a hole just big enough for it to fit. There was a moment where everything seemed to freeze, and Tick searched his mind for a possible explanation of what was happening. If anyone was watching from below, what else could they think except that a UFO had zapped down from outer space to steal the first human they could find in order to perform experiments? It was all just so . . . odd. Tick was surprised at how little terror he felt now—much less than when he’d first heard that clicking sound.

Because he remembered that he had an untapped amount of power inside his body.

He closed his eyes and let the Chi’karda flow into his chest, into his heart and nerves and bones and muscles. The surge of it was like a rushing river, somehow cold and hot at the same time, filling him with a rapturous clarity and a sense of being unstoppable. Like he could crush mountains or drink up the entire ocean and spit it back out. He wanted to roar and pound his chest. When he opened his eyes again, the familiar orange mist spun around him and clung to his skin, particles of light bouncing along his clothes, untouched by the wind.

With both hands, he grabbed the trailing length of the cord that connected his waist to the boxy contraption that flew through the air. He wrenched his body around until he’d twisted enough that he faced the long cube of silver. After pulling in a deep breath, he blew out the power that had boiled and churned inside of him, letting it flow like an open faucet, throwing every ounce of power at the box that had captured him. A great rushing sound filled his ears, and the world blinded him with orange light.

A thunderclap shook the air, along with a massive jolt of power.

Tick was suddenly plummeting, his hearing deafened, his senses completely out of whack. It was like he’d been flooded with numbing drugs. On some level, he felt the tops of trees scratching his back, felt the cord still cinched tightly around his waist, but his vision had gone from orange to bright white, and he could hear absolutely nothing. The pulse of his blood was a pounding in his head, a thump-thump-thump that he could only feel, a vibration that rattled down his spine.

He was still being pulled along. Somehow he knew that. The branches weren’t suddenly gone—nothing tore at his clothes or bit at his skin. His eyes darted wildly, trying to see anything but the whiteness that seared his sight. The calmness and sense of invincibility from earlier completely vanished, replaced by a fiery panic that lit up his nerves. What was happening to him? He couldn’t see, couldn’t hear. He barely felt the motion of flying through the air or the metal rope wrapped around his middle. How could all that power he’d thrown at the long, silvery coffin not have freed him and dropped him to the forest floor?

He didn’t know what else to do but try again. Though weakened from whatever had happened the first time, he concentrated on his internal self, pooling the Chi’karda once again. It came as only a trickle, a weak stream of power that barely made a splash compared to what it had been before. It had no form or substance. It couldn’t take shape. It wasn’t strong enough for him to do anything with it. And he still couldn’t see.

His panic erupted into anger. Rage tore through his body and weakened some of the dam holding back the Chi’karda. He screamed and tried again, pulling on whatever lever he sensed that controlled the link between him and the Realities. The surge came, rushed through him like a flood, filling him with relief as strong as the power itself.

Still flying through the air, still attached to the cord, he didn’t wait, didn’t allow himself even a second to enjoy the swell of pleasure. He threw everything he had at the object holding him captive.

This time he didn’t hear the thunderclap at all, just felt it. A thump of violence that jarred his bones and rattled his skull. The blinding light around him brightened even more, intense with heat and pressure. The rope around his waist jerked forward, pulling his body along with it. A sprinkle of pain cut through the numbness, making him reach for his back. But his fingers were numb too, and he felt nothing there. All was blunt and dull and lifeless. Nothing made sense anymore. His brain began to shut down.

His hearing came back just long enough for him to hear that clicking sound again. Then everything exploded in a rush of movement, and darkness engulfed him.

Chu needed a break from his run-down excuse for a temporary office. Maybe a permanent break. He hated the little place, and he missed the power of being in charge, of being
seen
as the man in charge.

Reginald Chu stood in the newly built laboratory, leaning against the railing as he stared down at the massive chamber. It was seven or eight football fields wide and at least three tall. Big. Really, really big. Even larger than the chamber inside the mountain palace, which Atticus Higginbottom had brought crumbling down right before Chu was sent to the Nonex. Tick. The little rat.

But Chu’s people had already been working on this new facility and had even picked up the pace, hoping that someday their leader would return. They were loyal and smart. Benson led the security details, but the real geniuses were Chu’s engineers and scientists and physicists. He’d gathered more brain power into one place over the last thirty years than anywhere else in all the Realities. His men shared his goals. Most of them didn’t care what the end result might be—let Chu rule the world, other worlds, whatever—as long as they kept getting the funds they needed to do the research that kept their old hearts ticking.

And now they’d built the largest research facility in history. This chamber was only a small part of it. It went on and on and on. And the most amazing thing about it was that the complex had been built entirely underground. It was simply awesome.

And it was time for Chu to finally move back in. He’d had his moments of reflection and his moments of appreciating what had been taken from him. But things were going to move, and move fast, now. Below him, his workers were finalizing the very device he planned to use to harness the immense power of the Void that had escaped the Fourth Dimension.

Right on cue, his earpiece buzzed. It was Benson.

“We got him, sir. The Bagger worked like a charm.”

“Excellent,” Chu replied. “Let Mistress Jane know at once.”

Chapter 40

A Pulsing Light

Sato picked his way along the top of the rubble, knowing that he could slip to his death at any second. The ruined stone and brick and wood and whatever else Jane had used to build the place lay stacked on top of each other like some kind of fragile toy, ready to collapse at any second. Something shifted with every step, and Sato kept thinking he couldn’t possibly feel his heart leap any stronger, but it seemed to do so every time.

The gray mass of spinning air was only a few hundred feet to his left, and that certainly wasn’t helping his nerves. Cracks of thunder shook the air and made the debris beneath his feet tremble, and as hard as he tried, he couldn’t stop himself from looking over every few seconds at the brilliant displays of lightning. The Void itself was downright creepy. It had a steady roar and a chilling movement to it that made Sato feel as if it were alive and hungry.

And it was growing steadily. Half of the castle ruins had been swallowed by the entity, and its pace of expansion seemed to be increasing. If they were going to learn anything about what had happened to Mistress Jane’s creatures, they’d need to figure it out fast.

Tollaseat tapped him on the shoulder, making him almost jump out of his skin. “What if that blimey thing decides it wants to take a bit of leapin’ at us?” Mothball’s dad asked. “Takes a fancy at throwin’ a lightning bolt or two our way?”

“Then duck,” Sato replied. “You’re welcome to go back if you want.”

Tollaseat laughed, a booming sound that drowned out the thunder and rush of wind for a few seconds. “You make a grouchy grump, you do. Or is it a grumpy grouch?”

“Just keep looking.” Sato had enjoyed the tiny reprieve from the noises of the Void, but knew he couldn’t admit it. He needed to keep his game face on now. Be a leader. “You go that way, and I’ll go this way. But not too far off. We need to be off this big pile of rocks in an hour.”