hilarious a few years down the road. They’d killed two monstrous water creatures with a vacuum cleaner and a dozen toilet flushes. But that night, lying in his bed, all he could think about as he stared at the dark ceiling was how close it had been. What it was like to see his mom’s face behind that deadly mask of water and his dad’s big body thrash around on the floor. What it was like to see his parents—both of them—almost die.
It hurt. It haunted. And he couldn’t get the images out of his mind. People always used the phrase “too close for comfort,” and after all he’d been through, and more than ever tonight, he understood what that meant on a very deep level. Especially when he considered how lucky they were Lisa and Kayla had gone away for the weekend. He knew there’d be no sleep for him tonight. Even if there were, it’d be full of nightmares.
Sighing, he rolled over onto his side and looked at the closet. The door was shut. He hadn’t consciously thought about it before, but he was pretty sure that door had been closed every night since the Gnat Rat had shown up and attacked him. Compared to the things happening to him now, that incident almost seemed funny. Almost silly.
Compared to his . . . problem.
That was the word he’d started using when referring to whatever was wrong with him. Somehow, for some reason, he had a natural surplus—an extreme surplus—of Chi’karda, that quiet force that explains and controls the world of quantum physics and therefore everything in the universe. The fact that Mistress Jane had pulled it out of him, shown it to him, burned the visual in his mind forever, only made it more terrifying.
He had enough Chi’karda inside him to power a Barrier Wand. He had enough to disintegrate a spaceship-sized weapon of metal. Enough to destroy one of the largest buildings in all of the Realities. He’d said it before, and he felt it now, for the millionth time.
He was a freak. A dangerous, out-of-control freak.
But then he felt the slightest glimmer of hope, almost like a visible light in his shadowed room of nighttime. In the garage, when he had started to lose control, he’d been able to pull back, make it stop. The more he thought about it, the better he felt.
He’d stopped. He’d controlled the power. That was a huge thing. The realization hadn’t really hit him until now—he’d been too preoccupied with the aftermath of the attack by the water creatures—but the Chi’karda had almost exploded within him, and he’d made it go away!
Tick sat up in bed, wrapping his arms around his knees. He had to tell Sofia and Paul. And Master George, of course. He looked over at the digital clock on his desk and read the time—just a few minutes before midnight. No way he could wait until morning.
Swinging his legs off the bed, he stood up and headed for the computer downstairs.
~
The house was dark and silent, the faint swooshing of the refrigerator the only sound. Tick knew his odds of making it downstairs without his dad hearing him were tiny, but he tried all the same, creeping along on his tiptoes, hitting all the quiet spots in the floor and on the stairs he’d scouted out long ago. If Dad did come down, surely he’d understand why Tick wanted so urgently to tell his friends about what had happened. And to make sure nothing had attacked them.
Once in his e-mail program, and after feeling a little disappointed that he had no messages waiting for him, he created a new one for Paul and Sofia. He started typing.
Hey guys,
I don’t even know where to start. Crazy day. Horrible day. Worst day since that stuff in the Fourth. Guess I’ll just tell it how it went.
It started while I was walking home from school after my normal visit with Mr. Chu. (Sofia, I know you hate him, but he’s not the same guy as Reginald. He was being controlled when he kidnapped us. Get over it!)
Anyway, I got hit by this weird feeling, like a huge electrical charge, like some kind of invisible power, hitting me in waves. Then things got worse.
Tick went on to tell them about the run home, finding his parents under attack by the water creatures, fighting the things, killing them with the vacuum. Flushing them down the toilet.
He winced when he typed that part, already imagining the response from Sofia. It was like handing your enemy a thousand rounds of ammo so they could shoot you with more ease. And glee. She’d have a field day with that stuff.
He paused for a moment, wishing he could make the fight sound tougher, scarier. Like it had been in real life. In an e-mail, it sounded completely stupid. Might as well write, Hey guys, you should’ve seen how I wielded that vacuum cleaner! I was invincible!
Groaning, he continued typing.
Well, it was a lot worse than it sounds. Trust me. I just wish I knew where they came from, what they were, and who sent them. And what those weird waves of power I felt were. Has anything happened to you guys? We better be extra careful, really be on the lookout.
I think we should talk again on the Internet phone-thingy Sofia’s butler helped us all set up. Since tomorrow is Saturday, what about in the morning (for me)—9:00? Let me know.
Tick
Realitant First Class