Mystics #1: The Seventh Sense (18 page)

“This has to be it,” Zoey whispered to herself. She could feel that she
was very close to discovering something. She closed the door to the office behind
her and switched on her flashlight.

The metal-gray filing cabinets were about four feet tall with three
large drawers. She read the front labels on the first cabinet: “Headquarters -
London Affairs, AN, Mystic Treaty.”

The second cabinets’ drawers read: “Sevenths, AD - BC, Census - 1295
– Present.”

And then on the last cabinet she stuck gold. The labels read: “List
of active agents,” “List of retired agents,” and finally, “List of MIA agents
or Deceased”—if her mother was still in hiding, then this was the only drawer
that her file could be in.

She pulled out the drawer gently and began to finger through the alphabetical
labels. There were hundreds of missing-in-action agents. She put the flashlight
in her mouth and searched, but after half an hour she had gone through every
name—and nothing.

Then at the very back she found a picture of a woman with fire-red
hair and large green eyes. Zoey’s blood turned to ice.

It was as though she was looking at an older version of herself—the
woman in the picture even had the same tiny little dimple in the middle of her
chin. She knew this had to be her mother. The name at the top of the file read:
Elizabeth Steele. Trembling all over, she pulled out the file, ran over to the
desk, flattened it out, and read.

Agent: Elizabeth Steele

Years in service: 15 years

Service stationed at: Hive
# 416, Toronto Branch. Last known station: Hive # 202, New York Branch.

Status: Single, no family
or children on record.

Parents: William and Nora
Steele, both deceased. No living relatives known.

At the bottom of the file written in big bold letters was—MIA, PRESUMED
DEAD.

Tears fell freely on her cheeks, and the words on the paper blurred
as she fought to control her emotions. All those years of searching had come to
this—her mother was missing. There was no mention of her father, or of her for
that matter, but for now it was the best news she could have hoped for. She
held real, tangible evidence in her hands. She had finally found her
real
mother. There was no denying it—they
were practically twins.

As she started to flick through the rest of the papers inside the
file, voices came from outside the door.

Zoey shut off the flashlight. She crumbled the file against her
chest and flattened herself behind the chair, against the wall and out of
sight. Her face rubbed against the back of the chair. It smelled old and musty
and tickled her nose, but she didn’t dare sneeze. She waited.

The door opened, and light poured into the room. Zoey lowered
herself until she lay flat against the floor. She heard footsteps, and from the
space under the chair she saw a pair of ankles in dark gray pants and shiny
black shoes. She prayed it wasn’t Agent Vargas and kept her breathing to
controlled and quiet.

Then a deep voice said, “Hurry up, we don’t have much time.”

Zoey didn’t recognize the voice. She realized it wasn’t Agent Vargas,
or Agent Barnes. But it still wasn’t
good
.

A pair of black boots followed the black shoes and stood in front of
the desk. She heard a scraping sound, the
beep
of a computer powering on, then the sound of fingers typing on a keyboard,

“I’m in,” said a voice in a squeaky tone. “It’ll only take a few
minutes…”

Zoey caught her breath—she knew that voice. But where had she heard
it before? She strained to listen more intensely.

“Good—find the codes. We can’t get in without them,” ordered the man
with the deep voice. “Are the others ready?”

She heard more typing on the keyboard.

“Yes, everyone’s waiting for the signal. You don’t have to worry.”

“Good, we make our move tomorrow night. Have the others ready to
move by morning. The Alphas will be waiting for us at the safe house in London.
Make sure no one sees you leave, understood? You’ve already caused too much
suspicion. We can’t afford any mistakes now—we’re too close. You
do
understand the importance of this,
don’t you? I mean, you do know what we’re fighting for—what we’re trying to
achieve?”

There was a slight pause, and the other man sounded a little
annoyed. “Of course—I’m here now, aren’t I?”

From her hiding place, Zoey watched as the pair of black shoes neared
her. She stopped breathing. But then they turned and walked over to the bookshelves.
She heard the sound of pages flipping in one of the books.

 
“We’ve been forced to abide
by these ridiculous
treaties
for too
long. The Sevenths are a pathetic excuse for an organization of Sevenths. These
agents are not the true disciples of the
Originals
—no
Original would dare befriend a monster. We were born with the gift to detect
monsters so we could protect ourselves from them—and destroy them. The
Originals rid the world of monsters, and now we will make them our slaves like the
rest of the Mutes.

“The Agencies are weak and useless—making treaties with beasts and
creatures from other worlds instead of killing them. It’s deplorable. It’s
disgusting—humans shouldn’t mix with the beasts. The Alpha Nation is the only
true
nation. There can be no other.”

 
“Yes, of course.”

“Mrs.
Dupont
trusts you,” continued the
man, “and I’m not sure why that is. I’m not entirely sure what
she
sees in you—your loyalty to the
Alphas is questionable.”

“Mrs.
Dupont
knows where my loyalties
lie,” said the man. His voice was edged with a bit of fear. “I don’t have to
prove
anything to you. Her word should be
enough. She trusts me, so should you.”

And at that moment, Zoey recognized the voice. It was the same
squeaky mouse voice she had heard from the man who spoke with the cat-lady. She
was positive. It
was
him—and he was
here
at their hive. She was pleasantly
excited and scared at the same time.

The other man laughed. “Yes, well, we shall see shan’t we? When the
time comes, your true allegiance will surface, and we will see whose side
you’re really on,
friend
. Do you have
the codes yet? It’s taking longer than I expected. Hurry up before someone from
your agency finds us in here.”

There was a silence, then the other man answered, “Yes, I’ve got them.
It’s all here.”

Zoey heard a soft
clip.

“Good, now give me the flash drive.”

There was a pause, and the man spoke again with a hint of irritation
in his tone. “Give me the flash drive,” he repeated, his voice rising.

“It’s all yours,” the other man replied curtly.

Zoey listened closely. And what she heard next changed things
completely.

“Tomorrow is the brink of a new area. Together we will witness the
downfall of the agency
’s
headquarters,
and once it is gone, every other wretched agency around the world will be
destroyed. One by one they will crumble and fall. We will leave
no
survivors. The true nation will rise.”

Zoey tried to control her nerves. If she hadn’t been hiding so close
to them, she might have risked a glimpse. Without names, she would not be able to
convince anyone to believe her. She still felt a sense of responsibility
towards the agency. She knew she needed at least a description or a clue as to the
identity of these men. Zoey hesitated—should she risk showing herself or not?

Just as she started to expose her head to take a look, they left the
room and closed the door. She raised her head from behind the chair, the room
was deserted. She crawled out of her hiding place, the file still clutched in
her right hand, and made for the door. With a soft
click
it popped open about an inch, and she peered out into Room 4A.
It was just as dark as it had been when she had stepped inside twenty minutes
ago. There were no traces of the traitorous men.

So much for that
, she told herself.

She closed the office door behind her, crossed the larger room, and
slipped through the main door. She closed it and listened carefully—nothing.

With the file clutched against her chest, her adrenalin fluttered through
her like butterflies—no one was going to stop her from discovering the truth—rules
or no rules.

Grinning from ear to ear, Zoey hurried across the marble floors in
her socks. How many traitors were there in the hive? Why did they need codes?
And what were they planning on doing to the agency’s headquarters tomorrow?

One thing was for sure, she knew that the cat-face woman’s name was Mrs.
Dupont
—and that somehow she was connected to the
Alpha Nation and to her mother’s imprisonment and disappearance.

But first, she needed to warn the agency about what she had heard. It
was far too important.

She dashed down the corridor, thinking how she could break the news gently.
The gleaming marble floor was like an indoor skating rink, and she skated in her
socks, turned left, and crashed into a hard body.

Z
oey slipped and fell onto the
hard marble floors. And when she looked up her smile faded, and she felt the
blood drain from her face.

“What part of you’re
not
allowed anywhere near the hive didn’t you understand, Zoey?” growled Agent
Barnes.

Even in the dimly lit corridor, Zoey could see the flush on his
face.

“The fourth floor is off limits, especially to you. What are you
doing snooping around in the middle of the night, Zoey? This doesn’t look good.
This doesn’t look good at all.”

She swallowed hard. “I—I—” she hesitated, her cheeks burning. How
was she going to explain this? She knew she had broken like a
million
rules. Her mouth fell open but
no words came out.

“What do you have there?”

He grabbed the file from Zoey before she had the chance to hide it.
He flipped it open and stepped beneath one of the wall scones for more light.
After a moment, he looked up at Zoey.

 
“Where did you get this?”

“In a file cabinet—in the Supernatural Affairs room—”

“What? How dare you go in there!”

Agent Barnes leaned over her angrily. “You can’t just go wherever
you please! We have rules here. Room 4A is strictly prohibited to anyone
without proper authorization—little girls are
not
allowed in there.”

He scowled and waved the file in her face.

“Tell me something? Are you doing this on purpose? Do you want to
get kicked out of the program for good and go live in some sad little
neighborhood? You want to throw away a chance of a lifetime? Well—do you?”

“No.”

“So why are you busting my chops? Why are you making it so darn
difficult for you to stay? You know how many kids would kill to take your
place?”

Zoey stared at her socks. “I just—I just needed to find some answers
about my mom. I can’t help it. I needed to know who she was.”

Agent Barnes flipped the file open again. “So, you think this is
her?”

His voice softened when he saw the picture in the file.

“
Elizabeth Steele
. Man, she
really
does
look like you. I have to
admit. Maybe it is her, and maybe it’s not. But it says here she was never
married and had no children.”

“I thought about that,” said Zoey, “maybe she kept me a secret.”

Agent Barnes raised his eyebrows. “Why would she do that?”

Zoey pondered for a moment. “Because maybe she knew I would be in
danger.”

“In danger from what?”

“From the same people who imprisoned her in Troll City—the Alpha
Nation.”

Agent Barnes shut the file with a slap.

“The Alpha Nation doesn’t do dealings with mystics. It’s just not
possible. If you knew more about their history, and
our
history, you would know that it’s inconceivable. There’s just
no way.”

He looked at Zoey with concern.

“I understand your need to know more about your past, Zoey. I get it—really
I do. And if this
is
truly your
mother, then I’ll help you find her. I promise. But you have to promise to stop
fabricating stories. It’s not exactly helping your case. I’m on your side you
know—you’ve got to give me something real to work with.”

“They’re not stories, I’m telling you the truth,” said Zoey. “Why
would I make this up? Did you ask yourself that? You can ask Tristan or Simon.
They’ll tell you the exact same thing. They were there. We went through it
together. In a court of law, they would be considered valuable witnesses.”

“Yes, well, I already had lots of conversations with the both of
them.” Agent Barnes shook his head. “I don’t know what it is with the three of
you, but you have to stop—”

“But—” protested Zoey, but she was silenced with one stern look from
Agent Barnes.

“—at least until management’s come up with a decision,” he
continued. “You don’t want to make it worse. Your future here is hanging on a
thread.”

“You don’t believe me either?” said Zoey, her voice wavering.

Agent Barnes pressed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “It’s not that I
don’t believe you. It’s just that what you’re telling us doesn’t make any sense,
and it’s making it really, really hard for us to believe you.”

Zoey struggled for a moment. Should she tell him what she heard?
Would he believe her? She decided it was too important not to tell him.

 
“There’s something I have to
tell you—”

“Oh good, you found her.” Agent Ward came marching down the corridor
wearing pink and white pajamas and pink kitty slippers. She adjusted her
glasses and swung a flashlight in Zoey’s face.

“What are you doing here on the fourth floor in the middle of the
night! Operatives are prohibited from the fourth floor, didn’t anyone tell you
that?”

She pointed a long skinny finger at Zoey. “Aria heard you, you know.
She heard the front door close. And she found your empty bed. Well, she woke us
up in a panic.
You
don’t deserve her
affection.”

“It’s fine, Sarah,” said Agent Barnes as he lowered her flashlight
from Zoey’s eyes. “Zoey was sleepwalking.”

“Sleepwalking?” said Agent Ward skeptically.

Agent Barnes nodded. “Yes, I’ve just
woken
her up. I used to sleepwalk, too, when I was younger. They said I had an over
active mind. Guess Zoey suffers from that too,”

“Yes, we all know she suffers from
that
,” said Agent Ward.

“Well, we can’t punish her for sleepwalking,” said Agent Barnes.
“It’s not like she
knew
what she was
doing.”

Zoey put on a sleepy face as best she could and prayed the darkness
would help her convince Agent Ward that she had indeed been sleepwalking. It
seemed to do the trick.

“Well,” she inspected Zoey. Her eyes stopped at her socks. “Hmm, your
socks are filthy girl. Next time you sleepwalk try to remember to put on some
shoes. Well, I suppose that’s what happened. All right then, I’ll take her
back.”

“Of course,” agreed Agent Barnes, and then he added, “Hang on just a
second, Sarah. Zoey, what was it you wanted to tell me?”

Zoey froze for a second. Agent Ward was eyeballing her through her
glasses as though she was inspecting her through a microscope. They would never
believe her, especially Agent Ward—not now.

“Ah, nothing,” she lied. “I don’t remember. I guess I was dreaming.”

“Sleepwalking. My word. Off to bed, come on.” Agent Ward steered
Zoey by the elbow and then stopped when she saw the file in Agent Barnes’
hands. “What’s that?”

“That? Nothing—just some paperwork I need to catch up on.”

Agent Ward pressed her lips together in a thin line. “Good night,
Samuel.”

“Night, Sarah. Night, Zoey.”

As Zoey was led away, she turned one last time to look at Agent
Barnes who gave her a wink and then smiled.

The next evening Zoey sat alone at table in the Wander Inn staring
at her dinner plate, her food untouched. Through the window, the October sun
was setting over a blood-red sky.

Moving her food around in her plate with her fork, she just couldn’t
eat. She felt sick. The fall colors were rich and striking, like a landscape
painting, but even that didn’t lift her spirits. Every passing hour made it
worse. Earlier in the day she had tried to leave the inn to look for Agent
Barnes herself, but each time Aria had stopped her. She had then asked Aria to
give him a message instead. But when Aria asked her what this message was, Zoey
couldn’t bring herself to say. Finally she had scribbled the conversation she
had overheard on a piece of paper. She had folded the paper, written his name
on the front, and given it to Aria to deliver.

But that was this morning, hours ago, and Agent Barnes still hadn’t
come.

Aria walked over to Zoey’s table. “You didn’t eat anything at all
this morning either. Don’t think I haven’t noticed, because I have. You need to
eat something, Zoey. You need your strength. It won’t do anyone any good if you
starve yourself.”

Zoey kept her eyes on the plate. “Did you give Agent Barnes the note
I wrote?”

Aria smiled. “Actually, I gave it to Agent Ward. She was passing
through, and she said that she would—”

“What!” Zoey dropped her fork, her heart thumping hard in her chest.

“Oh, no, no, no. She won’t give it to him. She thinks I’m a liar—she
thinks I made everything up.”

“Zoey, what’s going on? What’s gotten you so panicked? I’m sure
Agent Ward will give him the note—why wouldn’t she?”

Zoey felt the walls on the inn closing in on her. “Because she
probably read it.”

“What—”

Aria was interrupted when a strange man stepped in. He wore a white
polo shirt that looked like it was two sizes too small and stretched tightly
over his large gut. He pulled out a chair and sat at a table facing Zoey. Even
though it was a cool evening, beads of sweat trickled down his forehead. With dark
gray circles under his eyes, he looked like someone who hadn’t slept in months.
He combed the top of his receding, straw-like hair to the side with his fingers
in an attempt to hide the bald patches on the top of his head. He got up and
then sat back down again, eying the room nervously.

Zoey lowered her eyes. There was something very odd about his
behavior. Why was he so nervous?

Aria looked at Zoey, “This conversation isn’t over. Don’t move. I’ll
be right back.”

She strolled off towards the man, sat down with her back to Zoey,
and began to chat,

Zoey got up slowly, without making a sound, slipped away from the
table and headed towards the door. She reached out and wrapped her hand on the
handle.

“Zoey! You’re not allowed to leave!” Aria got up from the table.

“I need to speak to Agent Barnes, it’s an emergency,” said Zoey
hurriedly, and added with a smile. “Back in ten minutes, promise.”

And with that she closed the door behind her and galloped into the
darkness of the grounds.

Suddenly, her skin prickled like a million mosquitoes were biting
her.

She stopped running and turned around, her breath escaping her in
coils of white mist. Trees swayed in the cold winds, as their last leaves
drifted to the ground. The forest was dark and eerie this time of night. Even
though she couldn’t see it, she knew there was a mystic hiding in the dark. And
from the intensity of the reaction on her skin, she could tell that there were
more than one—and they were evil, very evil. Mrs.
Dupont
had sent her dogs to finish her off.

She was at least two hundred yards from the hive. She had no
weapons, and she knew that someone wanted to kill her. Should she turn around
now? Could she make it if she ran? She heard a twig snap and bolted.

Her adrenaline was like gasoline on a fire, and Zoey ran fast. The orange
light of the hive’s main entrance shone more brightly as she got closer. Her
thighs burned, but she pushed on. She had run half way. She was going to make
it.

SMACK!

A great white ball crashed into her, and pain exploded on her side
as she hit the ground. She managed to roll over and get back on her feet.

She didn’t have to turn to see what had hit her. Three humanoid
creatures with sickly gray-white skin and small red eyes had already surrounded
her. They were fat and round with no necks, like giant eggs with gangly limbs.
They looked like zombie versions of Humpty Dumpty.

“What do you want?” stammered Zoey. She tried to look more confident
than she felt. Her ribs throbbed with pain, and she wasn’t sure she could make
a run for it.

One of the mystics smiled, revealing two extra-large and pointy
fangs.

“Want?” it said in a high-pitched voice that sounded like a violin.
“What a funny question—don’t you know what
vampires
want?”

Zoey screwed up her face. “You’re
vampires
? But I thought vampires were supposed to be hot and built
like supermodels or something?”

“So what are you saying?” said the mystic, looking slighted.

“Umm—you’re like—you’re like
fat
.”

The three vampires inhaled loudly and stood still with stunned looks
on their chalky faces. They looked like three hard-boiled eggs about to crack.
And then the shorter one spoke.

“
Vlad
, the girl just called us
fat
,” he said, his red eyes glaring.

“Are you going to let her talk to us like that? Nobody talks to
us
like that. We’re vampires. We kill
people. She’s
soooo
dead.”

“Yeah,
Vlad
,” said the tallest of the
three. Zoey noticed it had drawn a pencil mustache under its flat stretched
nose.

“Let’s crush her. I want to feel her skull explode under me. Then we
can sip her blood like a milkshake on a hot day.”

“We don’t
like
hot days,
remember?” whispered the short vampire, looking embarrassed.

“Oh, yeah right.” The tall vampire scratched his round head. “Why is
it again—why we don’t like hot days?”

“Cause the sun burns our skin, stupid.”

“Oh, right—because the sun burns us. Touché, I forgot.”

The small vampire shook his head, disbelief spread across his face. “How
can you
forget
something as important
as that?”

“I just did. What’s
your
problem?”

“My problem? My problem is
you
—”

“Shut up, you two,” said the vampire
Vlad
.

He waddled closer to Zoey. It was obvious they didn’t use their legs
very often. They looked like just bones with no muscles.

He pointed a skinny finger to himself. “We’re not
fat,
we’re
round;
there’s a significant difference. We are engineered that way
for a purpose,
Agent
. You see,
contrary to popular belief, vampires don’t fly around with bat wings—we roll.”