ARCHER SAT DOWN ON THE EDGE OF HIS BED AND STARED through his window. Old Jack was back.
“Why is it back now?” Archer wondered aloud.
What really troubled him was Old Jack’s face. Before the Rift, the clock showed the Dreamtreader’s allotted eleven hours, missing only the six due to Sixtolls, the randomly occurring hour of the Nightmare Lord’s chaos. Now, Old Jack showed only six hours. And rather than counting forward in time (one leads to two, leads to three, etc.), Old Jack now seemed to be counting down from six.
Archer thought he knew what Old Jack was counting down to now, but if he were right, it was a frightening prospect. The ancient clock face already showed half past four.
Archer pulled himself away from the window, sat up, and tossed the Summoning Feather into the air. Master Gabriel did not delay. To Archer’s relief, he did not appear to have guards or handcuffs with him when he arrived.
“It is about time,” Master Gabriel grumbled, stepping from the closet. His Incandescent Armor already burned brightly. “Archelion Michael informed me of your release. I would have expected a call from you sooner.”
“I’m sorry,” Archer said, “I needed to come home first. I needed to check on my family.”
“And?”
“The same,” Archer said, lowering his eyes. “They’re under some kind of spell, wandering about the protective vault I built around them.”
“I am sorry, Archer,” Master Gabriel said.
“Kaylie’s gone now,” Archer said with a sigh. “Did you wake her? What about Nick?”
He took a deep breath. “I propose an exchange of information. Tell me about your court process. I will update you on Kaylie, Nick, Kara, and more.”
Archer nodded and began to detail his court battle with Bezeal, leading ultimately to the merchant’s banishing from the court and subsequent escape. In turn, Master Gabriel spoke of waking Nick from the post-Rift, perfect-world illusion. He informed Archer of Kaylie’s self-awakening, and the two Dreamtreaders’ plans to infiltrate the Dream Tower.
“But I do not know the results of their mission,” Master Gabriel explained. “Kaylie has yet to summon me.”
“Should I be worried?”
“I do not believe so,” Master Gabriel replied. “They were not planning to confront Kara, not yet. Their mission was infiltration and reconnaissance.”
Archer nodded, glancing through the gap in his curtains. “Old Jack is back.” He pulled back the curtains.
“So I see, but with six hours?”
Archer shook his head. “I’m not sure it’s hours this time.”
“Why?” Master Gabriel replied. “What else could it be?”
“Days,” Archer said. “After the court case, Bezeal was so enraged that he began muttering to himself, something about needing only six days. It sounded like he wanted to keep me out of action for at least that long.”
Master Gabriel spun on his heel. “This . . . this is encouraging, Archer!”
“I don’t see how. Look at Old Jack. It’s counting down. If I’m right, we’ve only got three and a half days left.”
Master Gabriel frowned. “You are looking at the wrong side of this, Archer. If you are right, and it is six days—now down to a little more than three—remaining, ask yourself, three days until . . . what? Why would it be so important to Bezeal for you to be unable to fulfill your Dreamtreading duties for such a limited time?”
Archer wished he had an intellect as quick and deep as Kaylie’s. His thoughts felt like churning butter, slow and sloppy. Then, like the parting of a curtain, the idea came to him. His eyes sprang wide open with brows raised, and he even dared to smile. “Do you think?” he asked. “There’s still a chance?”
Master Gabriel nodded. “I do.”
“Snot rockets!” Archer shouted. “I’ve got to find Kaylie and Nick!”
“I suggest you try Scoville Manor.”
“Scoville Manor?” Archer barked, incredulous. “Why would I go there?”
“Aside from the fact that it is my advice to you, you just might find Kaylie there.”
“Oh, no,” Archer groused. “Rigby doesn’t have her captive, does he?”
“No, no,” Master Gabriel explained. “Nothing like that. Just go and see. Oh, and Archer, keep an open mind.”
Archer didn’t knock. He didn’t ring the doorbell.
He stood on the front porch, focused his will for a thunder-stomp, and blew the door off its hinges. He stepped through the wreckage and cried out, “Rigby! Where are you? What have you done with Kaylie?”
There was no answer. Even the pets in the basement were silent. They should have been barking, screeching, yipping, and yapping their heads off. “Rigby!” Archer yelled. “Doctor Scoville! Where are you?”
After a quick search of the upstairs, he raced down to the basement zoo, but the zoo wasn’t there anymore. In its place was a magnificent and very futuristic laboratory. No test tubes and beakers sitting on Bunsen burners—it clearly wasn’t that sort of lab. Instead, there were banks of slender computer servers, touch screens, tablets, styluses, and a vast array of flat-screen monitors, the smallest of which had to be at least ten feet wide. Those were just the things Archer could identify.
More amazing still were massive rolls of fiber-optic lines that reminded Archer of gigantic bundles of glowing yarn. Up above, thick tubes formed a dizzying labyrinth. Some were clear and full of bubbling liquid; others were more metallic. On the far side of the vast laboratory was what Archer originally took to be a kind of vault door. Full of chrome and brass components and thick circular slabs, it looked like something out of a federal bank. Archer stepped a little closer and noticed it was in motion. The centermost circle, where the spindle on a bank vault would be, was a radial dial turning slowly clockwise. Not clockwise, but oscillating. Large screens flanked the strange apparatus and showed various digital views of the earth.
“This place is crazy,” Archer muttered. “It almost looks like—”
“Dream Inc.”
Archer whirled around to find Rigby had appeared on his right.
“It’s very close to the original blueprints, along with a few upgrades we observed at Kara—”
With will-augmented speed, Archer flew into Rigby and pinned him against a pillar of concrete and steel. “Where is she, Rigby?” he demanded. “Where’s my sister?”
“I’m right here, Archer,” Kaylie grumbled. “Put him down. We’re friends again.”
“Friends?” Archer barked. “Friends? Kaylie, don’t you know what Rigby was going to do . . . to you? Don’t you know what happened at the hospital?”
“I know,” Kaylie said. “Rigby and Uncle Scovy told me all about it. But Kara lied. Did you know that? Rigby never pulled out that plug.”
“What?” Archer gasped.
“It’s true, Keaton,” Rigby said through clenched teeth. “Now, be a good lad, and set me on my feet.”
Archer lowered Rigby to the floor. “I don’t believe you,” he whispered. “I saw it. I saw it in your eyes.”
Rigby stared at the floor. “I’m not proud of that night,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically shaky. “I was desperate. All my plans, everything and everyone I ever cared about seemed to be slipping through my fingers.”
Archer tightened his fists on Rigby’s jacket. “She’s a little girl, Rigby.”
“No, I’m not,” Kaylie insisted. “I am a Dreamtreader and a strong one too.”
“Anyway, Keaton, like I told you. I never pulled the plug. I went there in a fit of madness, and I almost did . . . well . . . I almost made a tragic mistake. I guess you wouldn’t know about that, would you?”
Archer released Rigby and wandered a few paces away. He remembered being in this very basement, albeit before it had become a space station. He remembered staring at Doc Scoville’s comatose body, his shriveled form kept alive by a dozen machines. One flip of the master power switch. That’s all it would have taken.
“I know something about tragedy,” he whispered. The Dreamtreader turned on his heels and went face-to-face with Rigby once more. “Swear to me, Rigby,” he snarled. “Swear to me you never pulled that plug.”
“Okay, okay, Keaton,” Rigby muttered. “I swear, okay? Good enough?”
“For now,” Archer said, but he was far from certain. He’d be watching Rigby carefully. And he’d be ready if Rigby showed any sign of treachery. He stepped away and gestured to the machinery and electronics. “So what’s all this? Had to take a lot of mental energy to build something so huge . . . and so advanced.”
“Wasn’t so tough, Keaton,” Rigby said, “when you’ve got three of us working on it.”
Kaylie nodded. Archer sniffed the air. “Where’d all the critters go? I can’t even smell ’em.”
“They’re two levels down, Archer,” Kaylie said. “It’s like a great big terrarium down there. We built that too. You should see it. The animals are much happier now. I think Dr. Who misses you. And did you know Old Jack is back? Weird, he only has six numbers—”
“Where’s Doc Scoville? Where’s Nick?”
“We ’ave a lot to talk about,” Rigby said. “Good news and bad.”
“We’re onto something, Archer!” Kaylie squealed. “Something big. And I mean really, really, really, really, really, really—”
“I get it,” Archer said, putting his hands lightly on her shoulders. “Something big, but what?”
“Nothing certain yet,” Rigby explained. “Promising, but not certain. We ’ave more research to do, more tests.”
“This is torture!” Archer grumbled. “Research and tests for what?”
“Magnets!” Kaylie squeaked. She bounced up and down so much her pigtails did a little dance.
Archer frowned. “O . . . kay, magnets? For what?”
“Silly,” Kaylie replied. “For fixing the Rift!”