Tick looked at Jane, surprised. She’d arranged this?
Jane didn’t move as silence settled in the room, anticipation palpable in the air. Tick stared at the shiny surface of her red mask, trying to understand what was happening. He stood huddled with his parents in his basement, next to his two best friends and the leader of the Realitants, staring at a woman in a robe and mask, who could probably kill them all without breaking a sweat.
Time stretched as they waited for Jane to speak, to give an explanation. Tick wanted to scream, wanted to—
“I sent my waterkelts as a little opening exercise to our meeting,” Jane finally said, her voice scratchy but calm and cool. “Though I’m very disappointed they didn’t kill at least one of your parents, Atticus.”
Tick said nothing, fighting the urge to run at her.
“Anyway,” Jane said, “you’re probably wondering why I’ve brought you all here.”
No one replied, but Tick’s thoughts ran wild. She’d brought them all to his basement?
The face of Jane’s mask remained expressionless. “I knew Atticus would have the hardest time getting permission to leave due to his . . . unusual gift. That’s why we’re here. That’s why I sent you the note this morning, George. I’m glad to see you’re still capable of performing simple tasks. Though I wanted the boy Sato here as well.”
Tick glanced at Master George, who was visibly struggling to contain his contempt for this woman. “The boy is on a mission at the moment,” the old man spurted, unable to sound composed. “Be glad we came at all. I’ll have you speak your mind and be done with it. Remember, you’ve given your word this will be a diplomatic meeting. A peaceful meeting.”
Jane’s mask grinned, though the lips never parted. “Frightened, George? Scared of what your old pupil may do? You can thank the boy”—she nodded at Tick—“for making your fears relevant. You should definitely be afraid.”
“What is this nonsense?” Master George demanded.
“How did you get here?” Jane asked him.
Master George shifted on his feet. “What do you mean?”
Jane’s smile vanished almost instantly, the mask frowning. “George, don’t make me repeat questions a child could understand. How did you get here?”
“What does it matter? I fetched Paul and Sofia, then we winked to the forest a mile or so from here and walked the rest of the way. Why?”
“The forest?” Jane repeated. “Ah, yes, the forest. I sensed a pool of Chi’karda there. Perhaps an old cemetery, its wooden grave markers long turned to dust. I hope you walked briskly—good exercise I’m sure. Looks like you need it.”
“What is your point?” Master George snapped.
For the first time, Jane pulled her hands from out of the folds of the robe where she’d had them hidden. No one in the room could hold back a small gasp at the sight of them, especially Tick. He felt his mom’s arm tighten around his shoulders.
Jane’s hands were hideously red and flaky, covered with scars. Small shards and slivers of golden metal seemed fused to her skin. She folded her fingers together delicately, then rested her hands on her midsection. When Tick finally tore his eyes away from the terrible sight and looked at her face, he saw a horrific grimace of pain. Intense, aching pain. But then it was gone, replaced once again by the expressionless mask.
Jane must have noticed Tick’s own look of horror. “See something disturbing, Atticus? What, you don’t like my hands? You don’t think they’re pretty? Wouldn’t like to hold them, go for a stroll?”
Tick felt as though his insides were melting. He’d spent the last few months wondering what had happened to her, wondering if she was dead. He’d been consumed by guilt for what he’d done. Seeing Jane’s hands for himself now, he made the only logical conclusion he could. She wore the robe and mask because the rest of her body looked the same as her ruined hands.
He wanted to run. He wanted to sprint up those stairs and run away forever.
Jane seemed to sense his thoughts. “No, Atticus. For what you’ve done to me, you will be by my side. You’ll make restitution, and you’ll help me accomplish what I set out so long ago to do. That’s the only way I’ll forgive you.”
Tick felt his mom tense again, and he couldn’t stop her before she spoke.
“Now listen to me, Jane,” she said. “My son isn’t responsible for what happened to you any more than my left foot is. We’ve heard every detail of that day a million times over. He can’t control what’s inside him. You tried to kill him. What did you expect!”
Jane’s mask moved fiercely to rage. “I did not try to kill him! He knew I was trying to release his Chi’karda. I wanted to stop Chu from driving every last person in the Realities insane. I told him that—he knew it!”