Mystics 3-Book Collection (8 page)

“I couldn’t help myself,” said Zoey as she
sipped the last of her orange juice and smacked her lips loudly.
“It was the
best
food I’ve ever tasted in my
entire
life.”

Aria beamed.

“Well, our first class starts in fifteen
minutes,” said Tristan.

“We better get going. Agent Ward is really
strict about punctuality. She’s always giving extra duties for
being late. I think she secretly enjoys it. You don’t want to start
off on her bad side—
trust
me.”

She swallowed. “Right—the operative’s
program—Okay. Well, I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” She knew she
didn’t sound very convincing, even to herself, and she doubted
Tristan bought it.

Leaving the
Wander Inn
behind, Zoey
followed Tristan across the grounds and into the agency. Throngs of
humans and mystics stepped out of the mirrors, and even though she
had seen them the night before, she still jumped when a hairy man
with four legs scurried out of a ruby-red mirror on her right.

Tristan chuckled, and she pushed him
playfully.

As they passed the front desk, Zoey could
see that Mrs. Andrews and an older woman with short white hair were
in deep conversation. The two women looked up as they neared, and
Mrs. Andrews waved desperately to get Zoey’s attention. But Zoey
pretended not to see them and kept moving. Mrs. Andrews probably
only wanted to boast to her friend that she knew the Drifter.
Besides, Zoey suspected that Mrs. Andrews was only going to say
something very rude to her, so it was best to avoid them all
together.

She let out a shaky breath and inhaled
deeply. She tried to breathe normally, but she could tell she was
on the verge of hyperventilating. Why was she so panicked? She was
as tough as they came. But even as she tried to convince herself
so, it only seemed to increase her nerves. She had to force herself
to think of something else.

“So, do you have a girlfriend or something?”
she blurted out. She regretted it as soon as she said it. She felt
stupid and forward, but the words were already out there.

Tristan’s face darkened to a deep shade of
burgundy, and he looked embarrassed. Zoey felt even more
uncomfortable.
Great
, now he thought she was a freak. Her
ears burned, and she wanted to kick herself for being so dumb. How
could she
say
something like
that
?

The main hall branched out like a T with two
corridors on either side. Tristan turned to the left and stopped
before large double doors with
Sevenths’ Academy, Room 1D
written in bold black letters on the front.

“I don’t know how they teach at the Mutes’
schools,” began Tristan, “but here the operative program is divided
into two sections—theoretical and practical. The theoretical part
is from nine to noon. We have a break for lunch, and then it’s
practical from one to three. I prefer practical—it’s when the fun
really starts—it’s when we learn to use weapons and go out on field
assignments. You’ll see—you’ll get your chance pretty soon.”

Zoey just nodded. She still felt like an
idiot because of what she had said moments before.

Tristan lowered his voice. “We can’t talk
during class, so we can meet after and go for lunch, if you
want.”

He started forward and then turned, “Oh—and
the answer is
no
.”

“Sorry?”

Tristan scratched the back of his neck
awkwardly, his ears reddening. “I mean that I don’t have a
girlfriend.”

Zoey stood wide-eyed, blood draining from
her face. “Oh, right. Okay, thanks.”
Thanks
? She repeated in
her head.
I’m such a moron.

Tristan smiled at her and then turned. Zoey
hesitated and then followed him in, feeling more and more like a
fool.

The room was large, about the size of three
regular classrooms in one. It was divided into two sections. The
right side was lined with desks and computers. The opposite side
looked like a gym with floor mats, hanging ropes, bean bags, and
circular colored target stands on wheels like she had seen before
at an archery competition. The far wall was lined with shelves of
weapons. There were daggers, batons, swords, sledge hammers, axes,
metal nets, and a large variety of sharp looking weapons she didn’t
recognize.

And then her heart stopped. All eyes were on
her. She had been so enthralled with the room that she had
temporarily forgotten where she was.

The other eighteen students in the room had
turned around and were staring at her with shocked expressions. She
could hear them whispering. She met their curious stares head on,
and one by one the students turned back around and faced the
front.

A woman with gray chin-length hair sat
behind a desk at the far end of the room facing the students. Zoey
imagined it was Agent Ward. She sat very straight and watched Zoey
through black-rimmed glasses. Even at a distance, Zoey could see
the severe expression on her face. She understood right away what
Tristan had meant about not wanting to get on her bad side. The
woman had the permanent scowl of a sergeant major.

Tristan made his way over to an empty desk
at the back and sat down. Zoey followed his example and seated
herself at the desk next to him. She folded her hands in her lap
and waited. The classroom was as still as a tomb, the only sound
was her heart thumping rapidly in her ears.

“Zoey St. John.” Agent Ward’s voice blasted
through the eerie silence like a bomb. “Please stand.”

Reluctantly, Zoey pushed her chair back and
stood. She looked nervously at the old woman.

“Please introduce yourself to the group—tell
us a little about yourself,” said Agent Ward in a commanding
voice.

Zoey’s throat was dry, her heart started to
drum louder in her ears, and her arms felt unnatural hanging by her
sides, almost like they didn’t belong to her. Speaking before a
group of people wasn’t new to her, she had done this many times
before in front of new foster families. But this time was
different—she was facing a new environment. The speech that she had
practiced the night before wouldn’t work, so she decided to wing
it.

She cleared her throat. “Hi, uh…my name is
Zoey St. John…uh…but I guess you already know that.”

Giggles and snorts filled the room, but she
ignored them and continued. “I’m fourteen years old, and I’m from
Toronto. But I don’t know where I’m
really
from ‘cause…well,
I’m an orphan, see—I’ve never known my real family. Agent Barnes
found me yesterday and brought me here, because I’m a Seventh like
you—”

“You’re
not
like us,” said a boy.

He turned around in his seat, glowering at
her. He had perfectly groomed wavy black hair and piercing blue
eyes, like a husky’s. He wore expensive designer clothes, and Zoey
noticed a ruby ring in the shape of the letter O around his pinky.
His porcelain skin made him look more like a vampire than a
student.

“We come from good families, ancient
families. We’re not from the streets like
you
, so don’t try
to compare us. You’re nothing like us,
Drifter
.” He nearly
spit as he said the last word.

“That’s enough, Stuart King,” said Agent
Ward. “I will not tolerate rudeness in my class.”

Stuart gave Zoey a menacing glare and then
turned around in his seat.

It took all of Zoey’s inner strength to stay
where she was, because she wanted to leap over and punch him in the
face.

Agent Ward eyed her darkly. “Let’s make one
thing clear, Zoey St. John. You are here as a result of
Management’s decision, not mine. I for one would have
never
permitted a
Drifter
to share my classroom, but again, it was
not my decision to make. Understand this. You will not get
any
special treatment from me. If you cannot keep up with
the rest of the class, you will fail, and you will be forced to
repeat the program next year—if there are enough students to
start
a new program. My job is to make agents out of this
group, and if I feel you are a distraction to the others, if your
presence
affects
their studies—I will fail you. I will keep
failing you until I feel you have proven yourself capable. Am I
clear?”

Zoey didn’t answer right away. Her
nervousness was suddenly replaced by anger. “Perfectly clear.”

“
Agent
Ward.”

Zoey lowered her eyes. “Perfectly
clear…
Agent
Ward.”

Agent Ward raised an eyebrow. “Good. I look
forward to observing your special talents. I’ve heard so much about
you from Agent Barnes.”

The students laughed, and she raised her
hand to silence them.

“Now, each program starts in January, which
means you are six months behind this year’s group, Miss St. John,
so you’ll need to work very hard to catch up—if you can.”

More students laughed. “We are studying the
rank two mystics. We have already covered all of the rank ones—you
will have to learn them on your own. Please sit and login to your
computer. Your username is your first and last name without a
space.”

Zoey sat down in front of her computer. Her
cheeks burned, and she knew she was probably as red as her hair. In
the corner of her eye she could see a blond boy on her left trying
to get her attention, but she ignored him. She needed to
concentrate and prove to Agent Ward and everyone else that she
belonged.

Breathing in, she logged on. She had to type
her name three times for it to work. Her fingers trembled, but
finally the screen flashed and writing appeared on a blue
background. She read:

Mystics Theoretical, Group 1 – Division
416

She pressed
enter
. A window opened,
and the following folders appeared.

A Mystic way of life: Philosophy behind the
Mystics

Management rules and regulations

The Mystic Manual, Ranks 1 - 12

Mystic Treaty

“Let’s continue. We were identifying rank
two mystics and groups before we were interrupted,” Agent Ward
said. “Leah, please name me the first ten mystics from that
rank.”

A girl of about sixteen with a long brown
ponytail stood up. “Adaro, álfar, bathin, caliban, cyclops, dain,
duineach, hobgoblin, goblin, and griffin.”

“And which group do they belong to?” asked
Agent Ward.

“The ally group, except for the hobgoblins
and goblins which are in the hostile group,” answered the girl.

“Good. I expect everyone to know the first
one
hundred
by heart, by the end of the month.” She
stared at Zoey for a moment. “Everyone open your Mystic Manual,
rank two folder, and go to page thirty-five.”

Zoey had no idea there were so many
monsters—
mystics
, she reminded herself. There were several
hundred, just in the second rank folder. Every mystic had its own
file, like a police record, with a photo, a description of what it
looked like, and a brief history of the creature. Half of the
mystics in this folder had the word ‘hostile’ written in bold red
letters. Not all the mystics were friendly—she knew this—and she
would have to learn to distinguish friend from foe very
quickly.

After three full hours of studying, Zoey’s
eyes hurt from looking at the screen. She was grateful when Agent
Ward announced it was time for lunch.

When she stood up, she caught the boy Stuart
glowering at her again. She wondered if he ever used another face.
He was joined by three other boys and two girls, all of whom gave
her evil
you-don’t-belong-here
looks. They were the same
looks she used to get from the kids back at her old high school.
Foster kids were troublemakers—so everyone used to say—she’d been
labeled a freak from early on. The agency seemed to have the same
kind of cliques.

She noticed that some of the other students
wore the same ruby rings on their fingers. It meant something, and
she was going to find out what.

“Ignore them,” said Tristan as he challenged
Stuart with a dark look. “He thinks because his last name is King,
that he can boss everyone around like he’s royalty or
something.”

Zoey watched Stuart put his hand on one of
the other boys’ shoulders and whisper something.

“What’s up with those rings? The ones
they’re wearing with the red circle.”

Tristan followed her gaze. “They say it’s a
symbol of the Originals, those who wear them think they’re like
their
descendants.”

“And what exactly are the
Originals
?”
asked Zoey.

“The original Sevenths,” answered Tristan.
“The first people like you and me—people with our abilities that
existed in this world centuries ago.”

Somehow Zoey didn’t want King Stuart to have
such a significant part in the Sevenths’ ancestry. It gave him airs
that he didn’t have any proper claim to.

“So, Stuart and them are
really
descendants of these Originals? Well, that’s too bad, I was hoping
to steal his ring and feed it to him later,” she said.

Tristan laughed softly. “The truth is, it’s
a bunch of made up stories if you ask me. No one can really tell
who the real descendants are. The Originals existed centuries ago.
I don’t think anyone can trace that far back because no one knows
who they really were. This whole thing started years ago when a
group of Sevenths decided to do some DNA testing. Next thing you
know, they started to wear these rings and claimed to be
descendants of the long lost Originals.”

Zoey looked back to Stuart. “Now I get why
he’s so thick. He treats people like scum because he
does
think he’s royalty. He thinks he’s one of the Originals, and the
rest of us are peasants.”

“Who cares about him anyway? Come on, let’s
get lunch,” said Tristan as he made his way towards the door.