“All right, then,” Mothball said as she reached down and yanked Rutger to his feet with a big roar. “Get the lad the help he needs.”
“Come on, Paul,” Rutger said, swiping at the dust on his round bottom.
Paul nodded and followed him as he heard Master George speaking to the others.
“Sofia, Sally—I need to know everything.”
Chapter
36
~
The Tale of Mistress Jane
Let’s have a seat,” Mistress Jane said. “I’m sure Reginald will be here shortly to rant and rave his frustration that we both made it here alive.”
She grabbed Tick’s arm again, pulling him toward one of the impossibly clear benches lining the lighted walls. Once there, she let go and sat down, crossing her legs under the tight yellow material of her dress. She flicked her thick black hair across her shoulder then motioned for Tick to sit next to her.
Tick wanted to run. No, he wanted to yell and scream at Jane for the terrible things she’d done, including killing one of Mothball’s closest friends, Annika. He wanted to rip her ridiculous glasses off, throw them on the ground, crush them with his shoe, then punch her right square between her flaming green eyes. He wanted to—
“Sit down!” she shouted, her voice echoing through the room as though a chorus of Janes had called out the two words.
Tick fell to the bench, his short burst of spirit crushed. He folded his hands in his lap, staring at the glowing floor below his feet.
Jane took a deep breath. “I’m . . . I’m very sorry, Atticus. I should not have spoken to you like that. I apologize.”
Tick closed his eyes for a few seconds, then opened them again. He realized suddenly that the woman sitting next to him was crazy. Crazy and dangerous.
“Now,” Jane said. “There are a lot of things I need to tell you. I’m sure George has made you think I’m a monster, a cruel and heartless devil who cares nothing for the Realities or their people. Nothing could be further from the truth.”
Tick looked up. “How can you say that? I saw Annika die—killed by those disgusting monsters you created! Then you tried to have them kill me!”
Mistress Jane held up a finger to silence him. “I want you to be quiet. Do you understand this request?”
“Why should I—”
Jane flicked her finger. Something yanked Tick from the bench and threw him three feet into the air, spinning his body in the middle of the room. He screamed, thrashing his arms and legs. He spun faster, the unseen force gripping him like invisible claws as it wheeled him about, pinching and battering him.
“Stop it!” he yelled. “Put me down!”
The force vanished in an instant, and he crashed to the floor, one leg bent awkwardly beneath his body. He cried out as he squirmed to the side and pulled it straight. Gasping for breath, he pushed himself to his knees and stared at Jane, his eyes on fire.
“Why would you—”
“Silence!” she screamed, cutting him off again as she stood up, her face flashing red. “You will come over here. You will sit. And you will listen. Do you understand?”
Tick felt as if his old nemesis, Billy “The Goat” Cooper, had just sucker punched him in the stomach three times. Fighting tears, he slowly got to his feet and walked back to the bench. Without looking at Mistress Jane, swearing to himself he would never look her in the eyes again, he sat down.
After a few seconds of silence, Jane sat as well, crossing her legs again.
“Atticus,” she said, almost in a whisper, as if she hadn’t spent the last minute torturing him. “This . . . these are the things about me I don’t like. My temper, my impatience, my quickness to anger. I’ve tried very hard in recent weeks to better myself. To improve myself and be kinder to others.”
Tick snorted with all the disgust he could muster. “Yeah, obviously.”
Mistress Jane paused. “Think what you will. But know this—if Reginald had challenged me to kill you two months ago, perhaps even one month ago, your body would even now be rotting beneath several feet of earth. I have changed my ways as best I can, but my goal remains the same as it has always been—to save the Realities. I will never waver from it.”
Tick clenched his hands together, still staring at the white floor. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
“Reginald needs us, Atticus. He needs someone very powerful to help him with his project. His Dark Infinity project. And the two of us were the only ones he deemed worthy enough for the test—you with your silly riddles and death-defying adventures, and me with the simple task of killing you. Only one winner. Only one apprentice for Chu.”