Tick leaned back against the wall and looked at Jane, already breaking his vow. “How could he possibly think that killing me would be a challenge for you? That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”
Jane smiled, her green eyes flickering with a dark flame. “Atticus. Boy. You have no idea what you’ve done these past days. What you’re capable of doing. Though I don’t yet understand it, I have no shame in admitting that you have more potential than even I do. And you’ve done it without the benefit of living in the Thirteenth and soaking in its quantum mutations.”
Tick shook his head and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, resuming his study of the floor. “You don’t need to talk anymore—you’ve proven that you’re crazy ten times already.” From the corner of his eye, he noticed Jane’s hands quiver. She folded them together and paused a long time before speaking again.
“I’m going to tell you a story, Atticus,” she said in a calm, quiet voice. “I want to tell you so you’ll understand me. I only ask that you listen without interrupting. Will you do that for me?”
Tick didn’t say anything, but he couldn’t help feeling a surge of curiosity. He finally nodded.
Mistress Jane began. “I’m a scientist, Atticus. I have been since my earliest memories, experimenting in the backyard and reading every book in the library on the laws of nature. I have lived it and breathed it, as they say. Twenty years ago
I was recruited into the Realitants, in much the same way you were. It didn’t take long for me to master the wonders of quantum physics and excel in my assigned missions to study and document the Realities. By my third year, I was the most powerful of all the Realitants, and everyone knew it.”
She paused, as if her pride wanted to ensure Tick realized what she’d said. That she was the best of the best.
Tick didn’t move or say a word, and Jane finally continued.
“But then something happened, Atticus. Something tragic that still wakes me in the night, haunting me with visions and memories. I fell in love.”
Tick couldn’t help but look up at her. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but this surprised him.
Jane nodded. “I won’t speak his name to you because your ears aren’t worthy to hear it. And please”—she held out a hand and lightly caressed his arm then pulled back—“I don’t mean that as an insult to you. It’s just that . . . his name is sacred to me, and I’ve sworn to never say it aloud. I hope you understand.”
“I don’t care what his name was,” Tick mumbled under his breath.
Jane’s hands shook again, and Tick winced. Shut up, Tick, he thought. Don’t say another word or she might twist your head off!
“He loved the color yellow.” Jane laughed, a distant, surprisingly light-hearted chuckle that faded as quickly as it began. “It was strange how much he loved the color. Yellow shirts were his favorite; he painted the walls of his home yellow. And he always gave me daisies and daffodils. I asked him once why he loved it so much and he told me it was because yellow represented peace. And if anything described the life and purpose of that man, it was peace.”
Tick rolled his eyes, quickly rubbing his face to hide it from Jane.
“I loved him, Atticus. I loved him so much. It hurt me when I had to say good-bye to him and attend to my Realitant missions and assignments. It hurt me when he kissed me good night, whenever his hand let go of mine. That’s the only way I can truly describe how much he meant to me. I loved him so much, it hurt. I would have done anything to take away that pain, to be with him every second of every day. I loved him so much, I almost hated him.”
A ball of sickness grew in Tick’s belly. He didn’t know why—and he certainly didn’t understand all this lovey-dovey stuff Jane was talking about—but something about it made him ill. Something about it was obsessive.
“And then it happened,” Jane said. “The tragedy that would serve as the changing point of my life, the moment that defined my purpose from that day forward.”
After a long pause, Tick asked, “What happened?” He couldn’t help it—he wanted to know.