The War for the Waking World (32 page)

Crouching down behind a wall of rack mounted network gear in the heart of the Dream Tower's communication station, Amy and Razz heard Kara's announcement. “Good thing we're already in here,” Amy whispered. She tried to sound enthusiastic, but, truth be told, she was exhausted. As she'd waited for Razz to neutralize the local alarms and open a window, Amy had hovered in the air for far too long. She breathed heavily and repeated, “Glad we're in here. Yep.”

“Yup,” Razz said. “Just one problem.”

“What's that?”

“Getting out.”

Amy peered between two network racks, saw the armed guards just outside, and said, “Yep.”

Rigby stood on the roof atop the Dream Tower and rolled his eyes at the ostentatious view. “Only Kara,” he muttered.

The portal he'd used to travel from Rio to Baltimore vanished with an electric click. “'andy things, these,” he muttered, but then he slid to a seat against the air-conditioning condenser. “Exhausting, though.”

Rigby had not felt the will-sapped exhaustion like this when he and his uncle had traveled through the portal to Rio. But as the Rift slowly reversed, his extra mental will diminished more and more. He waited as long as he could, trying to restore his energy, but, after a few minutes, he couldn't delay any longer.

A little unsteadily, he stood and went to the roof access door. It was locked tight with all manner of digital equipment and sensors. Rigby shrugged. He didn't need the door . . . when he could make
his own. He stepped around to the concrete wall directly opposite the door, mustered a little will, and carved out a rectangle. He gently deposited the stone in a snowdrift as quietly as he could, and then entered the door.

Rigby slipped down the stairs and paused at the bottom door. He knew what awaited him on the other side. In a flash, he ripped open the door, thrust both hands out at his sides, and took down the startled guards. Then he raced up the hallway to find Kara's penthouse. Rigby thought certain his target was somewhere in Kara's private living space.
After all
, he thought,
Kara would want to keep the Shadow Key close.

“We've got a lock,” Frederick crowed. “Northern California.”

Kara rushed to the monitors. “Look at that signature,” she said, pointing to the escalating numbers by one of the tracking dots. “That's bound to be Kaylie, and this would no doubt be Archer.”

“What are they doing in the redwoods?” Frederick asked.

Kara shook her head. She understood at last. “They've figured out the magnetic connection to the Rift,” she said. “They're reversing it.” Then she looked at the series of clocks on the wall and raised her voice. “I've got to stop them. All we need is a few hours. Wait, what about Doc Scoville and Rigby?”

Frederick slapped one of the engineers on the side of the head. “Well, pull them up.”

The engineer's fingers flew over the keys, and the display showed the globe divided into magnetic sectors. “Not in the States, sir,” the engineer said. “Wait, I've got something in South America. Here it is. It's—”

“Rio de Janeiro,” Frederick said. “But it's just one of them.”

“Which one?” Kara demanded. “Doc Scoville or Rigby?”

“I can't tell,” Frederick said. “Which one is stronger?”

“Doc Scoville used to be,” Kara said. “But, now, I don't know. There must be another signal somewhere. Find it.”

“You heard the lady,” Frederick said to the engineer.

The man continued to scroll through the magnetic sectors. “It . . . it's not here,” he said frantically. “I've looked through every sector—twice—and there's nothing else putting out the kind of EM we should expect to see.”

Kara growled, “Look a third time!”

The engineer wiped sweat from his brow. “It won't do any good,” he muttered. “It's not hard to see. There's just nothing else—wait.”

“What is it?” Kara asked.

“The Dream Tower is emanating more EM than usual,” the engineer said.

“How much more?” asked Kara.

“More than a tesla.”

Kara scowled. “One of them is here,” she rasped. “Where in the tower?”

A few clicks later, the engineer said, “This can't be right. It shows the strong EM signal . . . it shows it below Research and Development, but there's nothing down there.”

Kara turned to Frederick. “Find Bezeal,” she said. “Meet me Beneath. I know which one it is, and I know why he's here.”

Twirling the Shadow Key in his fingers, Rigby sat in Kara's throne and smiled triumphantly. “Bit off more than you could chew,” he said quietly so that his voice would not echo. He flexed some will and caused the Inner Sanctum to rise up out of the floor.

The cavern Kara called Beneath had changed a great deal. It'd been hollowed out, and there were armories and barracks. It had clearly been her staging ground for the failed invasion of Scoville
Manor. When the Sanctum completed its ascension, Rigby leaped out of the seat and jogged down the steps from the platform.

With a wave of his hand, light shone forth from the Sanctum's keyhole. Rigby approached. Six steps away, his com link began to chatter.

“Come in,” the voice said. “Some . . . gone wrong. Rigby . . . you there?”

Of all the moments.
He was tempted to shut off the link, but thought better of it. “This is Rigby,” he spoke quietly. “Now's really not a good—”

“Rigby,” came a different voice on the com link. “Why aren't . . . in Rio? You've . . . get back!”

“Who is this?” Rigby demanded. “Keaton?”

“It's Archer. Your uncle . . . help. Why aren't you . . .”

A cold chill sliced down Rigby's spine. He tapped hard on the tiny touch screen, trying to channel the unit's strength into his uncle's wavelength. “Uncle?” he called. “Uncle Scovy, are you there?”

There was a burst of static so loud it echoed in the chamber. Rigby looked about nervously but saw nothing. “Blasted storm . . . and calling you,” the com link squawked. “. . . terrible is happening, Rigby! You've . . . to get back.”

“What?” Rigby asked, the cold chill branching off in a hundred icy rivulets. “What's happening?”

“Statues losing integrity and . . . apart,” the voice said. “Causing . . . tromagnetic storm.”

Rigby looked up at the glowing keyhole. “I'm coming, Uncle,” he said. “I'll be right there.”

“No, you won't,” Kara said, stepping from the shadows to Rigby's left.

Rigby spun but didn't unleash his will. Instead, he sidestepped toward the Inner Sanctum. “Kara,” he hissed. “I don't 'ave time for you. I'm afraid I must be going.”

“I'd like to see you try.”

“Oh, don't worry, love,” Rigby said, pushing the Shadow Key into
the keyhole. “I'll leave you some company.” He turned the key, and it gave a satisfying click.

But that was all.

Kara smirked. Then, she laughed. She almost fell on the floor she was laughing so hard. “Did you really think I'd leave the real Shadow Key where you could find it?”

Rigby gaped at the key. “But 'ow . . .”

“I knew you'd come back for it,” she said. “From the beginning, all you really wanted was to rule the Dream. Fusing it with the Waking World was always my idea.”

“It was Bezeal's idea,” he growled. “Not yours.”

“Rigby!” Doc Scoville screamed from the com link. “. . . intensifying! Come now!”

There came an agonized, howling scream, and then the link broke.

“No!” Rigby exclaimed, slapping at the com link. “Reestablish! Reestablish!”

“Pity,” Kara said, stepping closer. “He certainly sounds like he needs your help.”

“You witch!” Rigby growled. He strode toward her, but she threw him back with a staggering amount of will. Rigby slid on his back almost to the opposite wall of the cavern. He rolled and got to a knee. “'ow?” he asked groggily. “'ow . . . can you still . . . 'ave so much power?”

“That, my dear Rigby, is the best secret of all,” Kara said, reaching into her jacket. When she removed her hand, she held the real Shadow Key. “But why not tell you? You'll be dead anyway. It's the Masters Bindings. I've finished them now, Rigby. And do you know what happens after you finish them? You get to consume them, absorb them—they become part of you and feed you so much power. Oh, I almost wish you could taste that power.”

“You fool!” Rigby snarled. “They were made for 'igher beings than us. You don't consume them. They consume you!”

Kara knocked away the false Shadow Key, inserted the real one, and gave it a turn. The heavy slab door began to slide open.

“We waits,” came a slithering voice.

“Are we free?”

“Fleshling took care of Kara, did he?”

“No,” Kara thundered. “He most certainly did not. I am still your master, and Rigby? Well, he's made you promises he just can't keep. A bad habit of his.”

Rigby called up as much of his will as he dared and created a portal in the shadows. He had to escape, had to get back to his uncle.

“No, no,” Kara said with a haughty sigh. “You won't be going anywhere just yet.” She made a pinching motion with her hand, and the portal vanished. “And now, Rigby, I have other things to do, so I'll leave you to your party. You thought what the Scath showed you before was scary? You haven't seen anything yet.”

She turned to the Inner Sanctum and the writhing shadows within. “Rigby is all yours. Do with him as you wish, so long as in the end he really is dead this time.”

A hissing erupted from the Sanctum as a shadowy mass of shrieking, screaming darkness engulfed Rigby Thames.

FORTY-SEVEN

O
NE
D
AY

“A
RCHER, WHAT CAN WE DO
? ” K
AYLIE ASKED, CLUTCHING
her brother, trying to keep her face hidden from the storm.

“I don't know,” Archer said. He stared up into the swaying trees. Foliage ripped from branches crisscrossed in all directions. Creaking and snapping sounds grew louder and closer. “It wasn't supposed to go like this.”

“Why did Rigby do it?” Kaylie asked. “Why did he leave Uncle Scovy?”

“I don't know that either,” Archer replied.

“No, Archer, look!” she pointed over the treetops. “Old Jack!”

Archer saw the Dreamtreader clock. It was a faint, shimmering silhouette. He could scarcely read the numbers, but the position of the hand . . . pointed to one. “What?” Archer yelled. “How can there be just a day left?” Then, he looked more closely. The clock's hand seemed to be moving. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, but it was moving . . . as if the hours were simply draining away. “What's going on?”

A strange, violet light fell over them. Kaylie gasped. Archer watched as the sky churned with sideways funnel clouds and streaks of red lightning. A sharp roar came from behind. Instinctively, Archer grabbed Kaylie, used his will to put a buffer behind them, and raced a hundred yards across the forest floor. He turned to see a mighty tree that had fallen in their wake. His will-infused buffer had snapped it
in half; several hundred feet of the tree lay at an angle wedged between two other trunks.