Mystics 3-Book Collection (70 page)

Next to her was a humanoid-mystic with
chalk-white skin and red eyes. Her mane of purple hair drooped down
the sides of her bright green robes like expensive silk drapes. She
gave Zoey a smile, and instantly Zoey felt a rush of heat.

On the opposite side of the table was
another man just as ancient as the walking-dead woman. He was bald,
and his tired, light eyes disappeared under a heavy wrinkled brow.
His light-blue robes concealed large square shoulders and a
powerful chest. He could have been a great warrior when he was much
younger.

Zoey lost her breath when her eyes met the
mystic next to him. He had light gray-blue skin that glowed from
the inside with dark tribal tattoos etched along the sides of his
neck and forearms. Zoey could see traces of rippling muscles under
his earth-colored robes. His angular face was handsome and rugged,
and his pointy ears peeked out through his long white mane. He wore
golden loops in his ears and a single golden medallion in the shape
of a sun around his neck. He looked like an elf warrior from a
fantasy book.

Somehow, he looked familiar . . . .

And then it hit her.

He looked like Tristan when he had changed
into his
super-hero
self. Was this mystic an álfar? The more
she looked at him the more she was positive that he
was
.
Maybe he was a relative of Tristan’s? She wiggled in her chair,
uncomfortable under the gaze of his piercing blue eyes. Before she
looked away, she’d swear she saw the tiniest of smiles on his
lips.

The man with the dark skin cleared his
throat and spoke into his microphone. “Thank you for coming,
Director Hicks.”

Director Hicks moved his chair-microphone
near his lips. “It’s a pleasure to be of service to the National
Assembly, Director Patel.”

His voice resonated through the stadium.
“May I present to the assembly, Zoey St. John,” he said and
gestured towards her.

She didn’t know what possessed her later
when she recalled the events at the assembly, but before she knew
what she was doing, she waved her hand and said, “Hey.”

Director Patel raised his eyebrows, and Zoey
felt her face was literally
on
fire. She knew she was as red
as her hair, but there was absolutely nothing she could do about it
now. Three thousand mystics and Sevenths were going to remember her
as the
red girl
. She was going to be a tomato for the rest
of the interrogation.

Blood pounded in her ears, and she could
hardly hear anything when Director Patel moved his lips.

“. . . understand what this assembly is
about . . . some of the assembly leaders will ask you a series of
questions which you must answer clearly into your microphone.” She
finally heard him say, “And you will answer them
truthfully
and to the best of your knowledge. My fellow assembly leaders and I
have been deliberating since this morning. And now we are ready to
hear your side of the events.”

He hesitated. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” said Zoey, and then she remembered
that he had to speak into the microphone. She brought her
microphone to her mouth and said, “YES!” Her voice screeched like
an exploding amplifier. As the members winced and unclogged their
ears she made a mental note
not
to shout.

Director Patel turned to the plump woman to
his left. “Director van Noort, you may ask your questions.”

Santa’s wife smiled at Zoey. “Hello,
Zoey.”

She spoke like a grandmother speaking to her
grandchild. “I only have a few questions for you . . .” she said as
she flipped through a long note pad. “Ah—there we are. It says here
that you were brought up as an orphan, but you believe that your
mother is the former Agent Elizabeth Steele. According to our
information, she’s been missing in action for years, but you
believe she’s your mother?”

Zoey leaned forward and spoke carefully into
her microphone. “Yes.”

Director van Noort scribbled something in
her note pad. “But you don’t have any actual proof that she’s your
real
mother, do you? Were there any names written on your
birth certificate?”

“No,” said Zoey. “My papers list only the
name of the St. John’s orphanage where I was left as a baby.”

She saw a spark of interest in the old
woman’s face, but she didn’t say anything and she just kept
writing.

“We’ve heard of your
special
talents,” said the woman. “Can you tell the assembly what they are
please?”

Zoey felt like she’d been punched in the
stomach. Everyone at the great table was waiting for her to answer,
and she could feel everyone in the stadium focus on her. She tried
to swallow, but her throat was dry. She looked at Director Hicks
who gave her an encouraging smile.

“I . . . I can manipulate the mirrors,” her
voice cracked.

“Can you be more
specific
? How
exactly do you
do
this?”

With her heart in her throat, Zoey forced
the words out of her mouth. “I can work the mirror-port matter
transfers and anchors myself, just by thinking of a place or a
person. I can open and close portals just by using my mind.”

“A skill of a true descendant from the
Originals,” said Director van Noort, a hint of astonishment in her
voice.

The entire stadium was silent—too silent,
and Zoey wasn’t so sure that was a
good
thing.

Director van Noort seemed satisfied with
Zoey’s answers. “Thank you, dear. That is all for me.”

Director Patel turned to the corpse of a
woman. “Director Aslagard, you may ask your questions.”

The old lady’s head snapped to attention,
and she focused her wet gray eyes on Zoey.

“Zoey St. John,” she said in a hoarse
whisper that sounded like a stalled engine. Zoey couldn’t see if
she had any teeth. “Do you know what the Great Junction is?”

The stadium was so silent she could hear
Director Hick’s stomach rumble.

Zoey didn’t know why, but the old lady made
her nervous. She tried to remember how Mrs. Dupont had described
the junction.

“Ah . . . it’s a portal I think . . . ah . .
.
two
very big portals from different worlds that align and
make a permanent doorway.”

Director Aslagard wiped her nose with a
handkerchief.

“Very good. And do you
believe
in the
Great Junction? Do you think it
exists
?”

Zoey wasn’t sure where the old woman was
going with her questions, but she answered anyway. “Of course I do,
I saw it. So, yeah, you could say I believe in it.”

The entire stadium erupted in shouts and
raised voices. Zoey stiffened in her chair.

“And how is it that you
saw
it, as
you put it?” questioned Director Aslagard.

“I was there.”

Zoey tried to ignore the ruckus in the
stadium, but it was getting hard to hear the questions.

“SILENCE!” bellowed Director Patel. The
amphitheater went still.

Director Aslagard continued.

“We know that the event occurred in a remote
village in Scotland, near a secret Alpha city. But I’d like to know
who authorized you to go there?”

Director Aslagard flipped through a stack of
papers on the table. A slip of paper slipped through her
fingers.

“I don’t recall seeing a transcript of that
mission anywhere in our records.”

Zoey felt a pressure on her chest and could
hardly breathe. She wished her friends had come with her. She
needed someone to tell her she wasn’t a
monster
. She felt
like a Salem witch waiting to be burned on a stake.

“We—no—
I
. . .” corrected Zoey.

She knew there was no point in lying. Her
own Hive knew the truth.

“No one did,” she said. “I went on my own,
without permission.”

Her reckless disregard for rules had been a
result of growing up in the foster care system. But the appeal of
it all wasn’t there now. She had a horrible feeling she was going
to pay
big time
for breaking the rules. From the corner of
her eye, she saw Director Hicks’s head turn towards her, but she
didn’t look at him. She couldn’t.

Director Aslagard interlaced her skeletal
hands on the table, bluish veins peeked through her paper-thin
skin. “There’s something we don’t quite understand.”

She paused as if giving Zoey time to prepare
her answer.

“How is it that
you
, a Drifter as you
once were,
knew
where the Great Junction would take
place?”

Zoey shrugged. “I didn’t know. I had never
even heard of the Great Junction, I swear.”

The old woman leaned back and whispered
something to the mystic with the white skin.

Zoey was sure they didn’t believe her. She
had the terrible feeling they thought she was in it with Mrs.
Dupont. She couldn’t see Directors Martin and Campbell right now,
but she was positive that they would be smiling triumphantly.

Director Patel cleared his throat.

“If the members will permit me to ask a few
questions?” he said.

“Zoey, you say that you
didn’t
know
where and when the Great Junction was going to take place. If this
is true, can you tell the assembly why you were
there
in the
first place?”

Zoey blinked, her mind racing with answers
she wasn’t sure how to express. Blood pounded in her ears as she
searched for something to say that would make sense.

Director Patel’s face was stony.

“Zoey,” whispered Director Hicks. She saw
that his face was also tomato red and that sweat was trickling down
his forehead. He looked like he was about to have a heart
attack.

“Director Patel’s asked you a question,” he
said. “Go on now, answer him.”

Zoey swallowed hard and said, “I had a
hunch.”

“A hunch?” Director Patel leaned forward,
his face was unreadable, but his eyes were intense. “What kind of
hunch?”

“A hunch that Mrs. Dupont was responsible
for the black oil that had disabled all the mirror ports. I only
went there looking for a cure,” said Zoey.

Director Patel waited for the voices in the
stadium to cease and then continued. “I see . . . and so
you mirror-ported to this Mrs. Dupont’s home without any
authorization. Is that correct?”

Zoey didn’t like his tone. Besides, she
always did things without permission—it was part of her charm.

“Yes. I went without asking . . . but I
don’t see what the problem is. I mean . . . after all, I was right.
She
was the one who poisoned the mirrors. She admitted it in
front of everyone. Like I said, I was only trying to find the
cure—”

“This
is
a problem,” reproached
Director Patel. “Zoey St. John, you disobeyed the most fundamentals
laws of our agencies.” His voice rose. “These rules and regulations
were instituted for the sole purpose of protecting
us
, as
well as the entire human population. We abide by them. We trust in
them. And because of your insubordination, the Alpha woman took
your blood and generated the Great Junction. And now we have a
serious
problem on our hands.”

Zoey felt like she’d been stabbed a thousand
times. She couldn’t breathe. They were blaming
her
. Didn’t
they know she was also responsible for
saving
the mirrors
and the protective borders?

But even as she tried to convince herself of
her innocence, part of her knew that they were right. She
had
caused this—her blood did. She felt like a total jerk.
How could she ever make up for her actions?

She could feel the rush of tears, but she
forced her eyes dry. The last thing she needed was to become a
hysterical, crying, red-faced, red-haired, frightened little girl.
She could deal with this.

Director Patel opened his laptop computer
and read from the screen.

“According to Director Hicks’s prior
testament, and correct me if I’m wrong,” he added to the red-faced
director, “We now believe Zoey St. John holds an usually high
quantity of
Original
blood.”

Director Patel’s eyes darted over to Zoey.
She felt like she was about to burst out of her own skin. “She—Mrs.
Dupont—used Zoey’s blood in a ritual to commence the Great
Junction.”

Zoey clenched her jaw, and recoiled under
the director’s intense stare.

“The Great Junction had always been treated
as a myth,” continued Director Patel, his dark eyes never leaving
Zoey. “A myth fabricated by Sevenths long ago about a permanent
doorway between worlds. Sounds fascinating. I would have dismissed
it as a myth today if it weren’t for the
catastrophic
events
that are happening around the world at this very moment.”

As if to reinforce his last statement,
another tremor rippled through the stadium. By the looks of panic
on the faces of those around the table, Zoey knew this wasn’t a
regular occurrence. Earthquakes weren’t a regular thing in
London.

Director Patel leaned back in his chair and
started conversing with the other members.

For a long moment no one spoke, and Zoey
shifted in her chair nervously. She kept replaying the events that
had occurred when Mrs. Dupont had stolen her blood. If only she
hadn’t been caught. She wanted to kick or punch herself. But it was
too late now. She had to figure out a way to fix this . . . but
how?

Finally, Director Patel spoke into his
microphone. “Thank you for your testimony today, Zoey St. John. We
have no further questions for you.”

Zoey sat still in her chair, unable to move
or even speak, not even sure if she should move or speak. Her guilt
was tormenting her.

“And now we would like to address the
assembly,” said Director Patel, his voice strained like he was
about to announce something terrible. He cleared his voice.

“We believe that the Alpha woman, Mrs.
Dupont, was successful in conjuring up the Great Junction. We have
seen the effects with our own eyes, as have all of you. Hundreds of
portals have appeared around the world, and many unfortunate souls
have disappeared into the Nexus.”