Mystics 3-Book Collection (14 page)

“Zoey! Are you all right?” Tristan jumped
into the water and lifted her up as though she weighed no more than
a feather.

“You’re bleeding—and it did a real number on
your throat. You’re lucky to be alive you know. I’m going to
kill
Stuart.”

Zoey coughed when she tried to speak.
Finally, she was able to mutter. “No. Don’t. Not worth it.” Her
throat was raw, like she had just swallowed a handful of
razors.

“This isn’t over, Zoey.” Tristan’s
expression darkened. “I’ve always said there was something
off
about him, but I never imagined that he would stoop this
low.”

The other operatives were all standing at
the edge of the stream now, looking bewildered. All but one. Stuart
looked like he had bitten into something sour. Even in the dark
Zoey could see he was flustered and frustrated. Zoey smiled—his
plan to kill her hadn’t worked after all.

Agent Vargas came thrashing into the stream.
He looked so angry that Zoey thought she could see steam rolling
off the top of his head. He stood looking at the spot where the
dino-fairy had melted and then gave Stuart a piercing look.

“Why wasn’t I notified of the Nitro-fairy?”
he asked furiously. “You were working the west side of the lines,
Stuart. You
must
have seen it. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m sorry Agent Vargas, but I didn’t see
anything, honest,” said Stuart innocently. “It’s dark, I must have
missed it. My eyesight’s not the best at night—”

“Liar!” shouted Tristan. “You knew it was
there, and you dared Zoey to go—to prove that she was one of us.
You tried to get her killed!”

Stuart gave Tristan a blank expression. “It
was an honest mistake. I didn’t see it. Promise.”

“I’m disappointed in you, Stuart King,” said
Agent Vargas. “It’s not like you to
miss
something this
big.”

He stared at Stuart for a moment before
turning to Zoey.

“Well, she surely has proven herself as a
very
capable operative today, if I do say so.” He gave her a
smile.

“The more electricity fairies feed on, the
more powerful they become, and the
bigger
they grow. Once
they reach the Nitro size, it’s very hard to contain them. The
fellow you
obliterated
had probably been feeding for days
before the others arrived here. He would have been a mighty
opponent for an experienced agent. You’re lucky you weren’t killed.
It takes a great agent to battle a Nitro-fairy, especially one that
size.”

“Guess I was lucky,” said Zoey, although she
winced with the pain of her injuries.

Agent Vargas beamed. “Agent Barnes told me
you had what it takes—that you had mastered skills beyond your
years. Now I’ve seen it with my own eyes. Good work, Zoey St.
John.”

“Thank you.” Zoey pressed her lips tightly
together as she tried to reduce the giant smile that threatened to
take over her face.

“Everyone,” called Agent Vargas, “bag the
rest of the fairies. We’re moving out.”

As Tristan helped Zoey out of the stream,
she stood back and watched as all the remaining fairies were
sprayed and bagged until not one was left on the ripped and torn
power lines. With their bags over their shoulders, the operatives
circled around Agent Vargas.

“Apart from a
minor
disruption, we
managed to stay on target and on time,” said the agent. “Get your
DSM’s out! Let’s leave the great outback.” He pulled out his
double-sided-mirror and flipped it open with a flick of his
wrist.

Zoey was nervous about the voyage home.
Would she throw up again on the other side? She pulled out her
silver compact and popped it open with her finger. Even in the
moonlight she could see her reflection stare back at her
anxiously.

She wondered if the stolen interloper was
also a mirrored device. It would make sense if it were, since it
was also used for teleportation. But maybe it was something
entirely different.

“On my mark!” announced Agent Vargas. “DSM’s
ready! Into positions, nobody move. Let’s go!”

Zoey watched as the operatives stood still,
looking into their DSM’s. The operatives’ bodies started to shimmer
like ghosts in a breeze until they were no more than wraithlike
silhouettes. With a small
pop
, they disappeared one by one,
like dominos. Tristan smiled at her before he disappeared.

“Yah, hoo!” said Simon, and his ghost body
rippled and was gone.

Zoey readied herself for her turn. She
tipped her DSM slightly to get all her reflection inside the mirror
first. Holding her breath, she stood as still as she could.

She didn’t see the cold blue eyes or the arm
that reached out and pushed her until it was too late.

Her reflection shifted, and she
vanished.

The second time Zoey used the DSM was just
as terrifying as the first.

Her body was stretched like an elastic band,
as though she had no bones and was just a bag of blood and guts.
She floated as if she were swimming without water. And finally she
spun dizzily, before light exploded all around her, and her feet
met solid ground.

At first, she could see only gray shapes.
Slowly her vision cleared and her motion sickness lifted. She was
still in once piece. She took a moment and looked around.

She stood in a dark room, like some sort of
storage unit. What light there was seeped in between heavy old
curtains that hung on the only window. Tables and chairs were
stacked in piles against the walls. Boxes were piled on top of one
another. The air was stuffy and smelled like old socks and the
musty carpets from the orphanage. Her nose itched, and she felt the
sudden urge to sneeze. She had no idea where she was, but one thing
was for sure, this was not the hive.

An old mirror on carved lion’s feet stood
behind her. It was round, and its silver frame was a snake chasing
its tail. It looked ancient, older than any mirror she had seen
back at the hive. She was sure that it was a mirror-port anchor,
but why was it hidden away in a storage room? Zoey’s intuition told
her that there was something very wrong with this picture. There
was only one reason a mirror-port anchor would be kept hidden—to be
used in secret. The question was, who was keeping it secret and
why?

Voices came from behind the walls, and her
heart leaped into her throat. There was more than one voice, and
they were arguing. She pocketed her DSM, tiptoed across the room
and pressed her ear against the wall. It was definitely a heated
discussion.

“It will never work,” said a man’s voice
angrily. “It can’t be done. It can’t.”

“It must—and you
will!”
shouted a
woman’s voice.

Zoey tried to melt against the wall to hear
more clearly. Most of the conversation was muffled by the walls, as
the two people moved around in the next room. She heard a crash,
like a chair hitting the floor. She strained to listen.

“…now is our chance, we have the
interloper
,” said the woman.

Zoey froze. She couldn’t believe what she
had heard.

The woman continued, “We will begin the
necessary preparations immediately. I have been waiting patiently
for fourteen years. Now we must play our cards right. The plan has
been set in motion—nothing can stop us—not even the agency.”

Goosebumps riddled Zoey’s skin. She had
heard it, clear as rain,
interloper
. They were arguing about
something to do with the stolen interloper. And this woman had just
told Zoey that
she
had it. Maybe she had it on her right
now? What did it look like?

Zoey knew that she should use her DSM to
report back to the hive as soon as possible. Agent Vargas and her
friends would be worried that she’d had a mirror-port accident, and
that her parts were scattered to the ends of the world. Moreover,
she wanted nothing more than to punch Stuart in the face for
bumping her arm just as she had used her DSM.

But she couldn’t bring herself to make the
jump back. Something kept her where she stood—she couldn’t go just
yet—she
needed
to know more.

She had read enough about police work to
know that she had to figure out where she was. And after that she
knew that she needed to identify these people. She needed to
see
their faces. It wouldn’t do any good to return without
proof. A quick look was all she needed. She knew that if she could
do this, the agency would have no more doubts about her—she would
truly belong. Better yet, if she
found
the interloper and
brought
it back


She could see a door behind a mountain of
boxes. She made for it.

The handle was cool against her skin. She
took a deep breath, pulled it open, and peered through the crack.
She could see a dark passageway with rounded walls like a tunnel. A
single light flickered from the ceiling. The smell of mildew was
heavy, and Zoey could feel the damp against her skin as she crept
inside. By the looks of the decrepit limestone walls, she was in
some sort of old cellar. Water trickled down the walls. The
concrete floor was cracked, and water seeped through the crevices.
This was definitely horror movie material. Was this what a castle’s
dungeon looked like?

Zoey could hear the voices more clearly now.
The light increased as she slowly crept towards them. Cobwebs stuck
to her face. She pulled them off and wiped her hands on her jeans.
As silent as a cat, she made her way forward.

She reached the end of the passageway, and
from what she could see it opened up into a dimly lit chamber. She
couldn’t see them, which meant they couldn’t see her. She flattened
herself against the wall and listened.

“…You’ve already accepted your part in
this,” the woman was saying, “you can’t back down now—it’s too
late. You’ve made your choice and you
will
see it through.
We still expect lots from you...”

There was a pause, and then the man spoke.
He was clearly rattled, and his voice was high pitched and
desperate, as though he had inhaled some helium.

“I should have never let you talk me into
this! It’s only a matter of time before the agency finds out what
I’ve done—and they
will
find me out! I can feel their eyes
on me already. They suspect me already, I know it—I feel it. And
then what will I do! There’s no place for me to hide? It’ll be all
over for me.”

“Stop crying like a little girl,” the woman
breathed, in a bored kind of voice. “I told you I would take care
of you—”

“How? How are you planning on doing that?”
said the man.

Zoey heard his footsteps pacing around the
room. “Do you know what the punishment is for treason? A trip to
the Nexus—never to return to our world—that’s the fate that’s
waiting for me! Do you know what mystics do to agents over
there?”

“I can imagine,” said the woman calmly.

“How can you be so calm about this?” shouted
the man. “I’ve put my life on the line!”

“Because nothing is going to happen to you,
my dear man.”

Zoey heard the sound of heels on concrete.
“Now sit down. You’re giving me a headache with all that deplorable
crying.”

Feet shuffled and then Zoey heard something
heavy sit in a chair. She leaned forward a millimeter.

She heard heels scratch the floor again.

“We know how much you’ve given up for us,”
continued the woman, “and you will be paid handsomely for your
help.”

“I don’t care about the money,” said the
man. “I care about my
life
. What’s the use of money if I
can’t spend it because I’m dead?”

“We will keep you
safe
. Do not
underestimate us, or our power. There are things which you still do
not understand, but for now you must stay at the agency—until the
time is right.”

“I don’t know if I can keep this up,” said
the man, his voice wavering. “I feel like I’m going crazy with all
the lies.”

“You will,” said the woman after a moment.
“You must. This is still an ongoing operation, and you still have a
part to play. It is not over—not yet. Soon you will have nothing to
fear from the agency ever again. I promise you that.”

Zoey frowned. The couple stopped talking. If
she didn’t chance to look at them now, she feared she’d get caught.
They only had to move slightly, and they would see her. She had
already wasted too much time eavesdropping.

With her heart thundering in her ears, she
leaned forward.

The man sat with his back to her. His head
was in his hands, and his shoulders shook as if he were crying. All
she could make out was that he had thinning gray hair, wide
shoulders, and hardly any neck.

But the woman was staring straight at
her.

Zoey stopped breathing. It was the most
disturbing face she’d ever seen. It was chalk white, and the skin
was pulled back severely. She looked constantly surprised. She had
small black eyes like buttons that peered out below a hairless
brow, and her nose was flat with tiny slits for nostrils. Her large
pronounced cheekbones looked out of proportion. It was a face of
too many plastic surgeries gone wrong—she had the face of a cat.
Her short slick white hair was the only seemingly normal looking
thing about her. Her large red lips were puffed out like sausages.
She opened her mouth in wonder when she caught sight of Zoey.

“Who do we have here?” said the woman, her
voice as soft as silk. “A little girl? Come here, little girl.
Don’t be afraid. I won’t harm you. Come here into the light so I
can see you better.”

Zoey tried to take a step backward, but her
legs wouldn’t move. She couldn’t take her eyes off the woman’s
face.

The cat-faced woman walked towards Zoey. Her
bursting lips were twisted in what looked like a smile, something
that took her a lot of effort to make.