Mystics 3-Book Collection (55 page)

“Is it me or do you guys feel like we’ve
stepped into a circus funhouse?” said Simon, as he examined the
paintings.

Zoey could see some transformation in the
generations of cat-faced women as she walked through the great
hall. Every generation had a portrait. If she was right, and these
were
all portraits of the same woman, then Mrs. Dupont
hadn’t aged for at least four hundred years. But how could that be?
How was she able to cheat death?

Finally they arrived at the south end of the
great room. To the left was an oak door with large ornate moldings.
The woman knocked twice, pushed open the door, and waited by the
threshold.

Xenor strolled into the room. Zoey and the
others were pushed in behind him.

The room was large and decorated with the
same gaudy furniture and paintings as the great hall. Portraits of
Mrs. Dupont stared down at them from the walls. There was a large
bay window at the opposite end of the room. A man with slick black
hair sat in a leather armchair facing a large stone fireplace. He
was dressed in an impeccably tailored dark blue suit. His single
white eye shone in the dark like a small moon. Zoey recognized him
at once. It was Mrs. Dupont’s right-hand man, Nazar. He had killed
Mrs. Andrews and had tried to kill Zoey and her friends a few
months earlier. He took a sip from his golden drink, and watched
them. A gun lay across his lap.

And sprawled on a red chaise longue across
from him was Mrs. Dupont.

“Xenor,” she said lazily, and a smile formed
on her bulbous lips, “Never thought I’d see the likes of you again
after our little
misunderstanding
.”

Her cat-like eyes widened at the sight of
Zoey.

“If you want to call being cheated a
misunderstanding,” said Xenor, angrily. He took a moment, as if to
compose himself. “But I’m not here to bring up the past. I’m here
to make a trade.”

“A trade,” said Mrs. Dupont, a hint of
surprise in her voice. “And what trade would that be?”

Xenor snapped his fingers, and the
changelings pushed Zoey, Tristan, and Simon forward.

Mrs. Dupont’s eyes moved over Zoey and
settled on Tristan and Simon. “You don’t mean these children, do
you?”

“I mean
exactly
these kids.” Xenor
rubbed his hands eagerly.

“You see, your ladyship, this redheaded girl
here is no ordinary human — she can manipulate the portals. She
mirror-ported here with her friends - without their precious mirror
devices. I have eyewitnesses. She’s a rare commodity. I know she’d
be
very
valuable to either side and now I’m ready to trade
her,” he pointed a sharp talon at Zoey, “for what was
promised
to me. I want to command. I want power. Those are
my terms. I won’t negotiate.”

Mrs. Dupont grinned at Xenor, and her face
warped distortedly as though some of the muscles in her face were
frozen and couldn’t move.

“And what gives you the impression that I’d
want to
trade
with a miserable thief and trickster like you?
I don’t trade with Nexus outlaws.”

Nazar rose slowly from his chair, the gun in
his hand.

Simon turned to Xenor and raised his voice.
“I thought you said you were a lord?”

Mrs. Dupont threw back her head and howled
in laughter. “Are you calling yourself a lord again? How pathetic.
You are no lord. You’re nothing but a thug with delusions of
grandeur. You should have let me kill you when you had the chance.
It could have saved you from this despicable life. The only skills
you possess are those of a resourceful bandit.” She eyed the
kidnappers. “I see you still surround yourself with the only idiots
that would follow you and your worthless ideals. You think I can’t
see through your disguises, changelings? I can smell your
stink
from over here.”

The changelings shifted nervously. “Chief,”
whispered Grugg, “You think we should change back? She knows who we
are now—”

“Yeah, I miss my old self,” agreed Gorb.

Gall scratched his forearm. “I’m really
itchy—”

“Shut up!” bellowed Xenor. He was sweating
profusely. “Do we have a deal?”

Mrs. Dupont’s eyes twitched. “Tell me,
where
have you been hiding from us all this time? In my very
own village, perhaps?”

Xenor raked his hair. “If you won’t trade
with me, then I’ll just take her back—”

“Hang on a second.” Mrs. Dupont rose from
her chaise longue. Her silk black robe spilled behind her like dark
water. “There’s no need to get so uptight, I was only having a
little fun with you. Can’t a girl have fun sometimes?”

“Who is she calling a girl?” whispered
Simon. He and Tristan shared a look.

A strand of hair fell over Xenor’s sweaty
face. “So you agree to my terms then? Control. Power. You agree to
that?”

Mrs. Dupont waved her hand dismissively.
“Yes, yes, yes. All of that.” She walked over to a side table and
poured herself a glass of burgundy from one of the decanters.

A flicker of light caught Zoey’s attention.
To the left of the decanters was an ornate mirror. Bingo - their
ticket home. Now, if only she could get these mystic ropes off.

Xenor paced around on the spot. “Good, good.
This is very good. Ha! Finally, a chance to regain my strength.”
His smile faded. “You’re not going to trick me again, are you?”

Mrs. Dupont took a mouthful of the burgundy
drink then placed the empty goblet on the table. “Of course not. A
deal’s a deal. You have my word.”

Xenor nodded. “Excellent. Excellent.”

He turned and smiled at his minions. “I knew
this was going to work, boys. Didn’t I tell you it would work?”

“Yes chief,”

“You did chief.”

“You’re the best, chief.”

Zoey saw Mrs. Dupont drop something silver
into her pocket.

She turned around. “I must admit, you’ve
brought me something of real value this time. I’m impressed.” Her
eyes settled on Zoey. “Can’t say that I’m surprised at your
resourcefulness. Perhaps it was merely dumb luck, you’ve been lucky
before.”

Xenor frowned. “It wasn’t dumb luck. I saw
an opportunity—and I took it. I brought you the virus, didn’t I? I
helped you bring down the Agencies. Without me, you would never
have put your hands on the virus. I get things done. That’s what
I’m known for in the Nexus – I’m the demon that gets things
done.”

“I don’t doubt that,” said Mrs. Dupont.

Xenor’s talons twitched in excitement.
“Well, do I get my own room? I’d like one with a view.”

Nazar left his chair, and Zoey watched him
as he made his way silently behind the two guards.

“Patience, Xenor, patience,” said Mrs.
Dupont as she crossed the room and examined the prisoners.

Xenor’s talons curled into fists. “If you’re
going to trick me again, I swear, me and the boys—”

Mrs. Dupont raised her hand. “Relax. I gave
you my word. I was just making sure you hadn’t spoiled my
trade.”

“Oh, right, of course, your ladyship.”
Xenor’s face relaxed. “Take the time that you need.”

He hesitated. “Can we shake on it? That
would settle the score for me that much more securely.”

“Of course.” Mrs. Dupont smiled, her face
even more grotesque up close. As she neared Xenor, she slipped her
left hand into her pocket and withdrew a small crystal top. She
handed it to him.

Xenor frowned. “What is this?”

“Nothing.”

In a flash, Mrs. Dupont raised her right
hand and slashed it across Xenor’s neck. His black eyes widened as
he wrapped his hands around his neck. Black blood seeped from the
spaces between his fingers. He gasped and then he fell to the
ground, black blood pouring out of the large gash in his neck.

The changelings howled and ran to their
boss’s aid, but Nazar was faster. With a speed Zoey didn’t think
possible, he fired his gun into the back of their heads. The three
of them toppled to the ground. They bubbled and steamed until all
that remained were three greasy puddles.

“This is seriously messed up,” said Simon,
miserably. He stared at the three puddles. “She’s going to kill us.
I know she is. And I was really looking forward to my birthday in
two months.”

“I’ll kill her before she tries,” growled
Tristan, as he pulled at his restraints. “This isn’t over, Simon,
but be patient.”

He turned to Zoey and lowered his voice. “We
need to find the source, and then we’re all going home. Right,
Zoey?”

Zoey watched as her two friends struggled
with their bonds. If they were going to die, it would be all her
fault. Her master plan had failed, and what was worse, she had
brought along her only two friends to die with her. She couldn’t
bring herself to speak.

Her eyes darted to Xenor. He lay in a puddle
of his own blood. Even if he was an evil mystic or an outlaw in his
own world, he hadn’t hurt them. He didn’t deserve to be killed so
violently. Compared to Mrs. Dupont and Nazar, he had been
practically an ally. Zoey’s hatred for Mrs. Dupont intensified like
gasoline on a fire.

Mrs. Dupont wiped her blade on her robe. She
looked up at Zoey, her monstrous face stretched and pulled into
what Zoey suspected was an attempt at a smile.

“I was wondering when we’d meet again, Zoey
dear,” she said. Her voice was as smooth as the best silk. “I’ve
been looking forward to this moment for a very long time.”

“And why’s that?” growled Zoey, her voice
reverberating in the room. “So you can slit my throat, too? You
sick cow!”

Mrs. Dupont laughed softly. “Of course not,
silly girl. But I am curious to see you here in my village. I must
confess that we had planned to come to get you, but now you’ve
saved me the tedious trip. You’ve arrived at my doorstep on your
own. Tell me,
why
is that? Why did you come here?”

Zoey did her best not to look at Tristan and
Simon. She hoped Mrs. Dupont couldn’t read minds. She couldn’t let
her know what they were truly after. It was all she had left of her
plan.

“I think I know why,” said Mrs. Dupont.

Zoey stopped breathing.

“You were looking for something, weren’t
you?”

The blood rushed to Zoey’s face, and Mrs.
Dupont measured her for a moment.

“You were looking for your mother, weren’t
you?”

Zoey breathed through her nose, unable to
answer. She had hoped to look for her mother once she had got the
virus.

“Is she here?” she asked finally. She felt
she was going to be sick.

Mrs. Dupont ignored the question.

“I have big plans for you, my dear,” she
said. Her smile twisted into an ugly sneer.

“A great battle is about to begin. And you,
Zoey, are the key.”

Z
oey glowered.
“What are you talking about?”

Mrs. Dupont stepped over Xenor’s body and
crossed the room. She poured herself another drink and cupped the
glass in her hand.

“The Great Junction, the merging of the two
worlds. The greatest event mankind and monster-kind has ever known,
and the end of this world as we know it.”

“What is she talking about?” whispered
Simon. “Is there some cracked truth in what she’s saying, or is she
still as crazy as before? Maybe she’s had one too many drinks.”

Zoey looked at Tristan.

He frowned, shaking his head. “I don’t know
what she’s talking about either.”

“You see, Zoey,” continued Mrs. Dupont, as
she crossed the room and made her way to her chaise lounge, “At
first, I believed Elizabeth was the key to my plans. That’s right,
your mother.”

She sprawled over the chaise longue. “But as
much as I wanted her to be the key, her powers weren’t strong
enough. I realized too late that she wasn’t the one. It seems the
Original bloodline skipped a generation - giving you all of its
strength.”

“I’m
not
an Original,” spat Zoey.

Mrs. Dupont’s face was unreadable. “You’re
the closest thing to an Original in this world, my darling
girl.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Mrs. Dupont giggled.

Zoey wanted to punch her ugly face even
more. But just as she moved her arm, something yanked her back.

“Where do you think you’re going?” said
Nazar. He pointed his gun at her and squeezed her arm with his left
hand, making sure it would bruise.

Zoey lost her cool.

“Are you going to shoot me in the back,
too?” she screamed, trying to pull away. “Is that how you fight?
Killing old people and kids? You’re nothing but a coward.”

Nazar gritted his teeth and raised his gun.
“Why you little—”

“Nazar,” said Mrs. Dupont lazily, “Come,
come. We were just starting to have some fun. Don’t be such a
spoil-sport. What can she do? What can any of them do? Their hands
are bound with mystic rope. They’re not getting out anytime
soon.”

Zoey wiggled out of Nazar’s iron grip and
glared at Mrs. Dupont.

“What did you do to my mother? I know you
did something to her! Where is she?”

Mrs. Dupont smiled at Zoey’s distress. “Why
on earth would you think that
I
would have had something to
do with your mother’s disappearance?”

“Because you made her disappear years
ago.”

Mrs. Dupont raised her brow. “Well, you got
me there. But that doesn’t prove that I did something to her now.
Does it?”

Zoey lowered her eyes.

“Yes it does. Because if she’s anything like
me, she would have found me by now…” she answered, “…which only
leaves
you
. You did something to her, or you have her
imprisoned somewhere.” Zoey looked around the room. “Maybe even in
this house.”

“Ha!” Mrs. Dupont’s unsettling feline eyes
turned on Zoey.

“Why do you care so much about a person
you’ve never even met? You should be glad you grew up without a
mother.” She took a sip of her drink, and her cheeks grew a little
pinker. “
I
never cared a stitch about my mother, and I
knew
her. I hated the woman. Pity she was such an
insufferable cow. I was her least favorite daughter—the ugly
one—the one no one wanted to marry. Well, at least I was the
smartest. And then I took care of my dear mama. I still remember
the look in her eyes when I slit her throat.” She laughed harder.
“It was perfect.”