Mystics #1: The Seventh Sense (16 page)

“Well, well, well,” he said. His voice was hoarse, and he sounded
Irish. “What do we have here? Three little sheep who have lost their way.”

His gang erupted in mad laughter, like wild hyenas.

His smiled widened, but his golden brown eyes were ice cold. “And
what brings you here to our humble town, little sheep.”

Cold sweat trickled down Zoey’s back. The sound of the motorcycles
and the smell of the gas had made her dizzy. “We’re looking for someone. My—”
she faltered, “—my mother.”

“Your
mother
?” laughed the
man. He turned to his troops, and they all fell into laughter again.

Zoey didn’t like the way he had said
mother,
and she started to wish she hadn’t come.

 
“What’s his problem,”
whispered Tristan, looking at Zoey.

“Mommy issues,” suggested Simon in a low voice so that only Zoey and
Tristan could hear. “I’ve seen it on TV—all the bad guys have mommy issues.
Trust me.”

The man danced on the spot and clapped his hands. “Your mother? You
think your
mother
is here? In Troll
City? A female agent?”

“Well, I’m not sure if she’s an agent—”

“She’s not sure!” cried the man hysterically. He took off his hat,
raised it in the air, and then bowed theatrically to his comrades. They
applauded.

Zoey started to get angry. It was like being in a bad sitcom with a Laugh
Now sign.

“It’s not funny,” she said loudly, and then, “Who are you, anyway?
I’d like to speak to the person in charge.”

She swallowed hard.

The man lowered his eyes. “
We
,
my little
sheeplings
, are leprechauns.”

There was a nasty edge to his voice, “We’re the law around these
parts—and
you
are
trespassin
’.”

He snapped his fingers. “Frisk them for their DSM’s.”

Before they could react, ten evil-looking leprechauns surrounded
them and held large daggers to their throats.

With a cold blade pressed against Zoey’s skin, she stood still while
a leprechaun with a black pirate-patch over his eye searched her pockets and
took her DSM. She winced at his sour breath. How were they going to get back to
the hive now?

Tristan handed over his DSM calmly, with a strange smile on his
face.

“Hey! Stop that! That’s
mine
!”
screamed Simon as one of the leprechauns searched him and removed his DSM. “Why
don’t you pick on someone your
own
size?”

The leprechaun bared a mouth full of metal teeth, and Simon jumped
behind Tristan. “Well that rules out a quick escape,” said Simon miserably.
“What’s your master plan now, Zoey?”

Zoey shrugged. “I don’t have one.”

She watched the leader pocket their DSM’s inside his coat.

“We better come up with something fast,” whispered Tristan.

Zoey looked at him. She didn’t
have
any kind of plan. She’d been impulsive, and in her foolishness she’d endangered
the lives of her friends. They were trapped—and it was
her
fault.

“You should have never come here, little
sheeplings
,”
said the leprechaun leader.

“Why’s that?” said Zoey, feeling more and more anxious.

The leprechaun leader measured her for a moment, his expression
unsympathetic.

“You’ll soon find out.” He snickered and snapped his fingers. “Take
them away.”

A
lthough they kicked, screamed,
and punched, Zoey and her friends were no match for the leprechaun gang. They
tied Zoey’s hands and feet and draped her over the back seat of one of the
motorcycles as if she were a sack of potatoes. The motorcycle swayed and bounced
as they traveled, and she feared she was going to be sick. Her head hung over
the edge of the seat so that her face was inches from the back wheel, and it
sprayed sand and debris on her face and into her mouth. Coughing and spitting,
she looked for Tristan and Simon, but she could only see big, black wheels. She
prayed they were okay.

She forced her sickness down and cursed herself for being so
foolish. This was her mess, and she alone should be stuck in it, not Tristan
and Simon. It was humiliating enough to have been defeated by a gang of
tattooed leprechauns—the thought of something bad happening to Tristan made her
insides twist even more. She struggled against her bonds—she needed a plan.

Suddenly the back end of the motorcycle started to jerk up and down,
and Zoey saw that they were going up a large staircase. They passed through a
large open archway. The bike straightened, and they raced across gleaming
marble floors.

The motorbike fishtailed to a stop, and Zoey flew off the bike. She skidded
on the hard marble floors and burned the skin on the side of her face. She
leaned on her elbows and looked around.

They were in some sort of massive hotel ballroom. Marble columns
rose on either side, and light spilled through beautiful stained glass windows.
A majestic, golden throne in the shape of a tall hat sat on a dais at the other
end of the chamber. And on either side of the dais were mountains of treasure.

Piles of gold and silver coins, diamond rings, necklaces, jeweled
tiaras, diamond watches, gold candlesticks, and even human-sized golden statues
with rubies for eyes twinkled from every corner of the large chamber. And in
the midst of the gleaming treasures were flat screen televisions, laptops, cell
phones, and tons of electronic devices that Zoey had never seen before.

 
It was a robbers’ storage
unit, cluttered with their stolen prizes. An entire wall was stacked to the
ceiling with money that teetered dangerously. A leprechaun in a baseball cap sat
at the base of the wall of money and stuffed dollar bills into an electric cash-counting
machine, like the ones she had seen in gangster movies.

Zoey had never seen so much richness in all of her life. It was like
the treasure of
Smaug
, the dragon from
The Hobbit
.

But there was something else besides treasure inside the chamber. A
cast-iron cage, the size of a garage, sat in the middle of the space. What the
heck was it doing there? Maroon stains speckled the floor beneath it, and some
of the bars had been scratched and bent as though something or someone had
tried desperately to get out. Zoey’s blood turned to ice. She hoped they
weren’t going to find out.

Tires screeched, and Tristan and Simon crashed onto the floor next
to her.

Tristan rolled over to Zoey, his eyes wide. “You okay? Are you hurt?
Did they hurt you?”

Zoey sat up painfully.

“No,” she lied, “just my pride. This really sucks—I’m sorry I dragged
you guys into this.”

Tristan gave her a small smile. “Nah, I love a good adventure.
Besides, we’re going to get out of here, I promise.”

“When we do, remind me to
never
get a motorbike,” grumbled Simon. He had a nasty bruise on the side of his left
temple. “I’ll never look at a scooter the same way again.”

Tristan whistled. “Wow, look at all the gold and diamonds—there must
be millions of
dollars worth
of stuff in here.”

“More like billions,” grumbled Simon.

Zoey looked around. “They look like thieves. Something tells me that
they didn’t work for any of it. What do you think they’re going to do to us?”

“I don’t know,” said Tristan, “If we could get our DSM’s back, we
could probably make it out of here in one piece.”

“Is that—is that a
bird
cage?” said Simon looking worried.

But before they could find out, the rest of the leprechauns and
their bikes exploded into the chamber with a thunderous roar. They killed their
engines, and the leprechaun leader leapt off his bike and made his way towards
the dais. He sat in the golden throne.

“Put them in the cage,” he said.

Six large leprechauns with punk hairstyles pulled out large blades
and strolled towards Zoey.

“We’re not poultry,” said Simon, pretending to look offended.

“We—” he motioned to himself and the others with his head, and then
spoke very slowly, “are
tee—
na
—
gers
. And teenagers don’t
belong in cages—unless you’re planning on eating us? You’re not planning on
eating us, right? Besides, aren’t you like
supposed
to slide down rainbows or something?”

“In the cage,” said a bald and tattooed leprechaun to Simon.

“Don’t make me say it again,” he snarled through blackened teeth. He
poked the tip of his blade into Simon’s neck, “or I’ll skin you alive, and then
feed you to my pets in the swamp.”

“Pets?” said Simon. “Those things back there in the swamps are
your
pets? Are you serious?”

“In the cage!” yelled the leprechaun.

“Okay, I’m going.” Simon lifted his shackled hands in surrender and
walked into the cage.

 
Tristan eyed Zoey with
concern—she wasn’t moving.

Zoey stared at the cage. It looked like death to her. She couldn’t
move.

The bald leprechaun held his blade to her eye. “In, or I’ll blind
you,
Red
.”

“NO!” Zoey stepped back and kicked the leprechaun with a satisfying
crunch.

But then she was hit from behind by something hard. White light
exploded in her vision. She was dragged across the floor and thrown inside the
cage. She heard the loud bang as the cage’s door closed, and then the tick of a
lock.

“Zoey, are you okay?” Tristan kneeled beside her and cradled her
hand.

Zoey blinked and looked up. “I think so.”

With some effort she grabbed the iron bars and pulled herself up. “I
guess this is what it feels like to be in jail.”

“Jail?” laughed the leprechaun leader.

He leaned forward in his chair and smiled maliciously. “No, no, no,
my little
sheeplings
—this is much
worse
than jail. This is
The Cage—
and you three are on trial.”

Zoey, Simon, and Tristan looked at each other in shocked silence.

On trial,
thought Zoey.
What the heck is
this place?

But then something occurred to her—if this was indeed a trial, then
they could argue their case. There was still a chance they could get out of
here. She only hoped it didn’t ruin their chances to find her mother.

Two grumpy-looking leprechauns stood on either side of their seated leader.
She recognized one as the guy she had kicked. He didn’t appear to be in pain at
all, and she wished she had kicked him harder.

The leprechaun leader raised his arms.

“I think it’s time for some introductions.
I
am Rusty
McFearsome
,” said the
leprechaun proudly, “the ruler of Troll City, and leader of this magnificent gang.”

“Magnificent, my eye,” whispered Simon. “More like magnificent
moron
.”

Rusty pointed to his right. “
This
is my first in command, Warty
O’Wicked
.”

The entire leprechaun gang clapped and stomped their boots in a loud
cheer. Warty was the bald leprechaun that Zoey had kicked. He was almost as
tall as Rusty, but much more muscular. He had scars on his face and arms, which
were still visible under his tattoos. He wore leather pants and a leather vest
that showed off his build. He flexed his muscles smugly. He was pompous and had
the look of a serial killer.

“And to my left,” continued Rusty, “is my second in command, Crusher
O’Looney
.”

Crusher smiled and revealed teeth that were capped in gold. He squared
his shoulders at his round of applause. He held a large club in his hand, and
Zoey figured that’s how he got his name. He sported a green Mohawk and wore leather
overalls. His body was covered in tattoos, and his eyebrows, nose, cheeks, and
lips were pierced.

“Did they pick their names out of a Cracker Jack box?” whispered
Simon.

“Now,” said Rusty as he leaned back against his chair, “tell me who
you
are—and what you’re
doing
in my city.”

Tristan opened his mouth about to speak, but Zoey cut him off.

“I’m Zoey,” she said and then pointed to the others. “These are my
friends, Tristan and Simon.” She stood at the edge of the bars and looked up to
the dais. “This has nothing to do with them. This was
my
idea—me alone. I came here to look for someone.”

“Yes, your
mother
.” Rusty
slapped his thigh, and all the leprechauns laughed like this was the best joke
they’d ever heard. A few fell over from laughing so hard, and some even cried.

Zoey shut her mouth before she said something rude. Clearly, they
were not taking her seriously—she hated it when that happened.

“
Humans
are not allowed in
Troll City,” continued Rusty. “According to the treaty,” he snapped his
fingers, and Warty
O’Wicked
fetched a scroll from
behind the chair. He handed it to Rusty who untied it, and the scroll unrolled
all the way to the floor.

Rusty cleared his throat.

“Article number one dash fifteen,” he read. “We members of the
agency and of the mystic council, hereby acknowledge Troll City as a sanctuary
for all mystics, and hereby forbid any humans from entering.
Bla
,
bla
,
bla
—the
rest is unimportant.”

He rolled up the scroll and handed it back to Warty.

“So you see, my little
sheeplings
, we
haven’t had the pleasure of a human visit in decades—and that visit only lasted
for twelve minutes before we cut him up in tiny pieces and fed him to our pets.
The penalty of trespassing is death—we’re going to skin you alive.”

“Does it say that in your treaty? To kill trespassers?” said Zoey.

She tried to sound authoritative and raised her voice. “I didn’t
hear you read that part? I doubt the agency would allow something like that. I
think you made it up. I think you’re lying.”

“
Shh
, Zoey,” hissed Simon, “are you mad?
You want us to get killed or what?”

Zoey clenched her jaw and looked at Simon. “This is supposed to be a
trial. They need evidence against us, right? Where does it say they have the
right to imprison us and kill us?”

“She’s right,” interjected Tristan, looking grave. “They’re lying.”

Rusty smiled wickedly. “Well, I guess you’ll never find out now,
will you.”

He raised his voice. “Off with their heads!” he called out
dramatically. The leprechauns cheered.

“Wait!” cried Zoey. “What about our trial? You said we were
on
trial—that means we must be allowed
to present our case.”

Rusty raised his eyebrows. “You don’t have a case. You’re
trespassers. And I rule to have you killed—it’s that simple.”

He paused for a moment and scratched his chin. “Unless you can come
up with payment, then I might reconsider your release.”

“What kind of payment?” Zoey feared she already knew the answer.

Rusty smiled and his golden eyes sparkled with greed. “Money or
jewelry? Do you have anything of worth?” He leaned forward, inspecting them
through the bars.

Zoey huddled with the others. “
I
don’t have anything that’s worth anything. I’m freaking poor, remember—I’m a
stray orphan.”

Tristan and Simon pulled out their wallets. Together they had a
total of twenty-five dollars and fifty-five cents. Zoey’s heart sunk. It wouldn’t
be enough.

She took the money and stuck her hand out of the bars. “Here, that’s
all we have. Do we have a deal?”

Crusher stepped down and took the money from Zoey. Without counting
it, he handed it to Rusty who took it eagerly and began to count it. He frowned.

“Twenty-five dollars and fifty-five cents? That’s it? That’s all you
can come up with? Three classy looking kids, and that’s
all
you’ve got?”

Zoey looked down. “I’ve never thought of myself as classy, but if we
had known, we could have brought more, I promise—”

Rusty brushed her off with his hand. “Kill them.”

“Wait! But you said if we paid you you’d let us go!”

The leprechaun leader grinned. “I lied. Cut them up and feed them to
the
Grohemoths
—”

“You can’t do this!” Zoey started to panic.

“We didn’t mean any harm. Please—we only came here to look for a
woman named Elizabeth.”

Rusty leaned forward in his chair, and his face paled. “What did you
say?”

Zoey looked at the others and then said, “I said we didn’t mean any
harm—”

“No—the other part,” urged Rusty. He sounded desperate. “The part
where you said a name—what was the name you said?”

Zoey paused for a moment, and then said with a shrug. “I said
Elizabeth
.”

Rusty’s
eyes
widened. He shared a sidelong glance with Warty and then whispered something
that she couldn’t hear.

Rusty spoke again. “And how do you know this, Elizabeth? Who sent
you?”

He scowled, and his face suddenly began to twist in rage.

“No one sent me,” said Zoey as calmly as she could. “I disobeyed the
agency to come here to look for a woman named Elizabeth. I think she’s my
mother.”