The Journal of Curious Letters (The 13th Reality #1)

“Where’s the bathroom?”


She nodded toward a short metal door. Sighing, Tick went and changed into his ridiculous pajamas.

~

Frazier Gunn had listened to the muffled murmurs of people talking all night. His captor had guests, apparently. Almost insane from the months of isolation, Frazier felt like chewing through the metal and killing every last one of them.

I’d need stronger teeth, he thought.

He knew he was going crazy, and he didn’t care. He curled up on the floor like a dog and tried to go back to sleep.

Frazier longed to hear more clearly through the cold metal walls of his terrible prison. The only word he felt confident he’d understood in all these months was Annika. George had mentioned the name several times, and for some reason it resonated through the metal without being distorted beyond recognition.

Annika. An unusual name for sure. Frazier had only known one person in his life named Annika. She was one of Mistress Jane’s closest servants and one of several people, including Frazier, who intensely competed for Jane’s favor.

Was it a coincidence? Did George somehow know Annika? There’d always been rumors of spies in Jane’s camp. Had Frazier discovered a gold nugget of information?

If only he could escape. If only he could warn Mistress Jane . . .

~

“Hey, looky!” Paul laughed when Tick walked out in his long nightshirt, which hung all the way to the floor. “If it’s not Ebenezer Scrooge himself! Where’s your stocking cap, Grandpa?”

“Very funny,” Tick said as he walked to an empty cot and started setting up his bed.

“I think you look right handsome, I do,” Mothball said.

“Uh-oh, looks like someone’s got a crush,” Paul said.

Sofia huffed as she settled under her blanket. “Paul, you’re almost as annoying in person as you were on the e-mail. Keep smarting off and you’ll get a Pacini fist in the nose.”

“Oh, come on, you know you love me.” He leaned back against the wall with his hands clasped behind his head. “Man, this is the life—no chores, no one yelling at me to brush my teeth. I love living in the middle of the ocean.”

“Ha!” Rutger barked from the doorway. “You’ll be wishing for chores once we send you on your initiation mission.”

Tick froze, his pillow still in his hands. “Initiation mission?”

Rutger nodded with a wicked smile. “You didn’t think Master George was kidding about retrieving Mistress Jane’s Barrier Wand, did you?”

“You can’t possibly mean we have to do it,” Sofia said.

“You’ll find out tomorrow. Get some sleep.”

“Oh, that’ll be nice and easy after telling us something like that,” Tick said, straightening his blankets and getting into bed.

“Dude,” Paul yawned, “where in the world are we anyway?”

“That’s an easy one,” Mothball said. “Middle of the ocean, we are.”

“But where? Which ocean?”

Mothball and Rutger exchanged a wary look. “Go on, you tell ’em,” Mothball finally said.

“This is the headquarters of the Realitants, you see,” Rutger began, “and there’s a reason we’re here. Master George has to do a lot of winking, a lot of working with the Chi’karda. And this is the one place in the world where it’s the most concentrated, the easiest to penetrate and control. It’s by far the strongest link between all of the Realities.”

“But where are we?” Sofia insisted.

Rutger rocked back and forth on his feet. “You’re going to laugh when I tell you.”

“Blimey, just tell ’em, fat man,” Mothball said, rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, tell us,” Paul added.

Rutger folded his hands and rested them on his belly. “We’re smack dab in the middle of the Bermuda Triangle.”

~

Master George let out a long, blissful sigh as he stuck his sore feet into a tub full of salt and warm water. Muffintops jumped onto his lap, purring as she licked his hands.

“Hello there, little friend,” he said, petting her soft fur. “Quite the day, we’ve had—busy, busy, busy. Never knew it would be so difficult explaining all the many things we know. Those poor little chaps. They’ve no idea what lies ahead of them. None at all.”

Master George leaned back and closed his eyes, wiggling his toes in the hot water. “Dear Muffintops, can we really do it? Can we really send them to that dreadful place? There’s a mighty good chance everything will fall to pieces, you know. They could be attacked or captured. I don’t know if the Sound Slicers will be enough . . .”

The cat looked up at Master George, as if it wanted to answer but couldn’t.