Mystics #1: The Seventh Sense (3 page)

Agent Barnes’ hazel eyes measured her, and close up Zoey could see a
scar on his chin that was surrounded by days-old stubble.

“So, what’s your name, kid?”

“Zoey St. John.”

“Well, Zoey St. John, do you think we could speak to your parents?” asked
Agent Barnes.

Zoey swallowed hard. “My parents are dead. I live…
lived
with a foster mother.”

“What do you mean by
lived
?”
asked Agent Lee, and he slid his hand inside his jacket. “Did you do something
to her?”

Since it looked like they were about to shoot her, Zoey decided to
tell them the truth. “She turned into a monster. I think it used her body as a
host—I killed her with a bag of salt.”

Tristan snorted but was immediately silenced by a dangerous look
from Agent Lee.

Agent Barnes measured her. “Must have been a Skin demon, they’re
really hard to detect—and when you do, it’s usually too late. Tell me, how did
you know to use salt on it?”

Zoey took a moment then spoke. “I’d read that the occult use salt to
kill demons. I’ve been using salt for years, and so far it’s worked for me, except
for tonight.”

“Not all demons are the same; you need
fire
to kill a
Duyen
demon,” said Agent
Barnes as he sized her up.

“Well, you’re a very strange girl, Zoey. How is it that you’ve
managed to avoid being put into an asylum or killed by illegal mystics?”

“I’ve learned to keep my mouth shut,” she answered shortly, confused
by his last words. “I did what I had to, to survive.”

“Hmmm.” Agent Barnes shared a sidelong glance with Agent Lee, and
then he lowered his eyes. He was eyeing Zoey as if she were some criminal.

“Well, we can’t leave you here now, can we? It’s not safe for you. You’ll
have to come with us back to the hive. Management will need to do some digging,
but ultimately they’ll decide what’s to be done with you.”

He reached out and steered Zoey towards the edge of the platform.

Zoey wiggled out of his grip. “Just a second! What’s
management
? What do you mean by
what’s to be done with me
? I’m not some
dog to be put in a cage. It sounds a lot like the foster system to me. Why
should I come with you anyway? I don’t even know you—you could be serial
killers for all I know. I don’t need anyone. I’ve been alone all my life, and I
can take care of myself.”

She folded her arms against her chest with a defiant look on her
face. It was too late to tell them that she had nowhere else to go—she didn’t
want them to think she needed them. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Agent Lee grabbed her from behind. “You have no choice. You’re going
to get killed unless you come with us.”

“Let me go!” Zoey kicked his kneecap with a satisfying crunch. He howled
and let her go, staggering backward.

“Wait!” Tristan came in between Agent Lee, who had a murderous look
in his eye, and Zoey. He turned towards her with his hands up in surrender.

“Listen, I know this must sound crazy to you, but you have to trust
us. We’re the only ones that can help you.”

“I don’t need any help,” grumbled Zoey.

“Really? That’s not what it looked like ten minutes ago.”

Tristan gave her a cheeky grin. “You’d be dead if it weren’t for us.
Truth is, there are a lot more and deadlier illegal mystics out there. They’ll
do anything to stay here in this world, and I mean
anything
. They don’t want to be caught and sent back. Once they
recognize that you can see them—adios—you’re dead.”

“I’m not an
agent
.”

“To them you are.”

Zoey looked confused.

“—because you’re one of us,” answered Tristan. “You’re one of the
Sevenths.”

Zoey’s mouth felt like it was full of cotton balls. “I’m a what?”

“A Seventh, a human born with the
seventh
sense.”

“There’s a seventh sense? Seriously?”

“Yes,” answered Tristan. “Sight, hearing, taste, touch, smell—are
the five. The sixth sense is your gut feeling, your intuition. But the
seventh
sense is the ability to
see
and
feel
the supernatural.”

Zoey wasn’t sure how to react to this new piece of information. But
somehow she knew it was the truth. She had the seventh sense. She’d always had
it.

“Did you get cold goose bumps right before you saw the
Duyen
demon?” asked Tristan.

“Yes.”

“That’s part of your Seventh sense,” said Tristan, and she noticed
that he was doing his best not to meet her eyes. “It’ll all become clearer, but
first you have to come with us. Trust me, you’ll be a lot safer with us—I
promise we won’t hurt you.”

Zoey studied Tristan’s face; she could always tell when someone was
lying, and he wasn’t. She let out a long sigh and said, “Okay, I believe you. All
I own is in my backpack, so you could say that I’m already packed for the trip.
Where are you taking me?”

It was Agent Barnes who answered. “To the hive.”

A
fter a brief conversation on his
cell phone, Agent Barnes ordered everyone out of the theatre. He told Zoey to
sit tight while they waited for their ride. The rain had stopped, and bright
stars winked from a dark blue sky. Agent Lee leaned on the theatre’s front
wall, eyeing her suspiciously from a distance. He stood with his right hand on
his hip like a cowboy ready to draw. He hadn’t forgiven her for the blow to his
kneecap. Since she had made up her mind to join them to go to whatever this hive
was, she sat on the edge of the sidewalk and tied her wild red mane into a
ponytail and waited.

Tristan came and sat next to her. “So, how long have you been a
foster kid?”

At first she was taken aback by the question. Her skin tingled at
his nearness almost as though there were another monster nearby. But the
sensation soon vanished, as though it had never happened.

After a moment, she answered. “Since I was four, so about ten years.”

“Do you remember your real parents?”

Zoey stared at her shoes, a heavy weight on her heart. “Not really.
I get images sometimes. I know my mother had red hair like mine, but that’s it.
I don’t remember my father at all.”

“Do you know what happened to them?” asked Tristan, his voice soft
and full of compassion.

Zoey shook her head. “No. All they could tell me back at the orphanage
was that I was dropped off without a name at one of the facilities. I don’t
know who they were, or if they’re alive or dead. Without a real name, it’s not
like I can look for them either.”

Tristan threw a pebble into the street. “So who gave you the name Zoey
St. John?”

“The orphanage did.”

She felt a sting in her chest as she always did when she spoke of
the orphanage—it always made her uncomfortable, like she was a second-class
citizen. Seeing her name written down had made it seem more real to her, even
though she knew it wasn’t her
given
name. One day she would discover her real name, she promised herself.

“I was named after the St. John’s orphanage in Toronto,” she
continued, “that’s how they name the nameless kids. They chose names for kids
alphabetically, and when I was dropped off they were up to the letter Z. They
gave us easy names to remember I guess. I’m just glad they didn’t call me
Jane Doe
.”

“I think Zoey St. John is a cool name.”

Zoey felt the heat rise on her face.

She thought it was best to change the subject before she began to
sweat and before her face turned the same color as her hair. “So, how long have
you been an agent?”

Tristan scratched the back of his neck, his face reddening as well.
“I’m not an agent. I’m just an operative.”

Zoey noticed the dimples on his cheeks when he smiled. It was a very
handsome face, and she felt herself drawn to it. “What’s an operative?” she
asked, still staring.

“Well I guess you could say it’s what we call
agents in training
,” he answered.

He avoided Zoey’s stare. “You need to be accepted in the operative
program first—it’s a very selective program amongst our people. Not everyone
has what it takes to become an agent.”

He was very interested in his sneakers.

Somehow, Zoey felt more at ease seeing his own discomfort, and she
took comfort it in. “So how long until you become an agent, then?”

“Three to four years,” he told her brightly. “You have to be at
least fourteen years old to be considered for the program. I started six months
ago with a few others. It’s always been a dream of mine, to become an agent.”

Something was nagging her. “Why did Agent Barnes call me a
Drifter
? What is that exactly?” She had
a feeling it wasn’t a good thing.

“A Drifter is a Seventh who’s been on their own for a very long time
and lost to the agency,” answered Tristan. “Like you, they have no idea that
there are others like them in the world. Usually, if the agency hasn’t found them
when they’re really young, they start to believe they’re crazy. They eventually
go insane.”

Zoey looked away. “Sounds great.” A shiver rolled down her back. She
couldn’t help but wonder if that might have happened to her.

“So…how many more operatives are there? Are there some at this hive
place where we’re going? Is that where you train, at the hive place?”

 
“Yes, there are a few of us.”

Zoey couldn’t help but be fascinated.

“So if you don’t become an agent, what else is there?” She imaged
herself as an agent battling monsters like a ninja.

Tristan laughed softly. “You ask a lot of questions.”

Zoey did her best to hide her excitement in her voice.

“I’ve been waiting all my life to ask them. I feel like my head’s
going to explode if I don’t ask them—you have no idea.”

 
Tristan watched a car roll by
and disappear around the corner. “Well, it depends on the Seventh. Some try to live
normal
lives, away from the agency,
but even they get basic combat training to protect themselves from dangerous illegals.
It’s really up to each Seventh to decide what he or she wants to do. There’re
loads of opportunities for them. They could teach, own a business, do research,
or even work in management.”

“Am I going to be an operative, too?” she asked. She knew that her
eagerness showed on her face. Just the thought sounded too good to be true. How
could
she
be anyone important? Her
stomach twisted.

Tristan didn’t answer right away. “I’m not sure exactly. Management will
decide, I guess. Sorry, but I really don’t know.”

Before Zoey could ask more questions, Agent Lee moved towards them, holding
up his cell phone.

“Just got a call from the agency,” he said, and then he lowered his
voice. “You won’t believe this—an
interloper’s
been stolen at the Boston hive. Sounds like the thieves put up a pretty big
fight, too—lots of casualties, very violent, eight agents were killed. They’re
sending reinforcements.”

Agent Barnes’ face darkened, and he stood silent for a moment. “There’s
only one reason why
someone
or
something
would want such a dangerous
device. The interloper was securely bound. Nobody should have been able to get
it. How did they get passed security?”

“I don’t know,” answered Agent Lee, perplexed. “I’ve been asked to
investigate.”

“The interloper’s location was a heavily guarded secret,” Agent
Barnes said. “It was well hidden and protected. Whoever is behind this had
inside knowledge. I’m sure of it.”

Agent Lee looked grim but said nothing.

Zoey wondered what an interloper was. It had to be something of
great importance. She longed to know what it was. The situation sounded really serious.
People had lost their lives because of it. She was itching to know more about
this device.

As she opened her mouth to ask Tristan, a black SUV with tinted
windows pulled up to the curb. Agent Barnes walked up to the vehicle and opened
the back door.

“In you go, Little Red,” he said and gestured to Zoey. He still looked
angry. “It’s getting late, and we have a long drive out of the city.”

 
Agent Lee snapped his fingers
at Tristan. “We should go. I hate these kinds of things—now everyone’s a
suspect. Keep your eyes open for anything unusual, even if you think it’s minor.”

Tristan got up. “See you later, Zoey,” he said and started to walk
away.

Zoey jumped to her feet. “What? You’re not coming?”

The idea of being alone in a car with Agent Barnes wasn’t exactly a
pleasant one. She preferred the company of someone her own age. The anxiety was
choking her, she hated not knowing where they were going or what these Sevenths
were going to do with her.

Tristan turned around, and Zoey could see he was holding a round metal
compact the size of his palm. On the top was a ring dial with a series of
engraved numbers around the edges like the face a clock. And in its center was
a needle that pointed to locations on a map. She could see it had mirrored
surfaces on the inside.

A compass
, thought Zoey.
A very fancy compass.

“Can’t,” answered Tristan as he continued to manipulate the device.

“I have to go with Agent Lee to Boston—it’s part of my training as
an operative—to work with an agent out in the field. I got lucky today.”

He smiled at her. “But don’t worry. Agent Barnes is a big teddy bear—he
doesn’t bite, not always.”

Agent Barnes cleared his throat awkwardly. “Hey, I do bite when I
have to.”

Agent Lee pulled out a similar mirrored compass from the folds of
his trench coat. He flipped it open, stared at himself through it, and after
adjusting his hair he folded the two sides together just as Tristan had done.

Zoey watched as they both held out their mirrors in front of
themselves, angling them as though trying to catch the best reflection. They
stood still for a moment, and then suddenly their bodies started to shimmer
like a mirage until they were no more than glowing shadows. She could see right
through their bodies to the other side of the street, as though they had turned
into translucent and eerie ghosts. Then, with a small
pop
, they disappeared.

“You can close your mouth now,” laughed Agent Barnes, seeing the
utter disbelief on Zoey’s face.

She ran to where Tristan and Agent Lee had stood seconds before.
“But…but it’s impossible! They’re gone? Disappeared? They just vanished? People
just don’t vanish? What happened? How is this possible?”

“It’s called traveling by DSM,” said Agent Barnes.

He pulled out an identical round compact and flipped it open for
Zoey to see.

“Feast your eyes on this baby.
This
,
my dear girl, is the only smart way to travel. Can’t leave home without it,” he
said and laughed at his own joke.

But he stopped laughing when he saw Zoey’s confused expression. “This
baby is a DSM—double-sided-mirror. It can take you anywhere in the world. I’m
sure you’ll have your chance at it, too—once we figure out what to do with you.
It’ll all make sense once we get to the hive. In you go, come on now.”

Reluctantly, Zoey climbed into the back seat of the SUV. Tristan had
said they’d meet up back at the hive, and she was curious to see if he’d still
be in one piece, or if his legs had stayed in Boston.

Agent Barnes sat in the front passenger’s seat and whispered something
to the driver, a man with white hair and glasses that covered most of his face.
As they drove away, the orphan district disappeared, and Zoey’s stomach gave a
lurch. But it wasn’t from leaving her old life behind—it was from excitement of
the unknown that lay ahead.

Zoey was quiet during the drive out of the city. Agent Barnes and
the driver were deep in conversion, keeping their voices low, but she caught
the word
interloper
at least five
times. It was clear that this device was on everyone’s mind, whatever it was.

After about an hour’s drive the SUV pulled onto a dirt road.

“Cold Creek,” announced Agent Barnes, and he turned around in his
seat. “It’s a wildlife and forest conservation area, nobody around for miles.
It’s the perfect location for a hive. It’s always best to be away from prying
eyes—wouldn’t want any Mutes in our backyard—if you know what I mean?”

No?
Zoey wanted to say, but she didn’t. She had no idea what Mutes
where.

“I was around your age when I first came here. I remember it like it
was yesterday. It was the best day of my life. I’d always wanted to be an agent,
you know. My parents are retired now, but they both worked for the agency. Ah,
enough about me. I’m sure you’ll like it here. For one thing, the air’s a lot
better than that filth you were breathing before in the city.”

 
Green forests ran for miles
on the opposite sides of the narrow road. Rolling hills loomed in the distance,
and she could see a river snaking through acres of swamp. Zoey had never been
in the country or so far north. She had lived surrounded by dirty concrete
buildings and smelly paved streets for as long as she could remember. She had
never seen anything so beautiful. It was like stepping into a National
Geographic magazine.

The SUV climbed a short rise and then descended into a circular valley
surrounded by mountains. A giant building made of metal and glass rested in the
middle of the valley. As they got closer, Zoey could see it was made in the
shape of a capital A, lying flat.
A
for
Agency
,
she realized. It sparkled in the moonlight, and yellow light seeped out through
rows of windows. It stood alone and proud—set back from the forest—keeping the
wilderness at a respectable distance. It looked out of place in the rough
country, like an alien spacecraft that had just landed.

They drove around a circular driveway and parked the SUV in front of
the building. The driver kept the motor running.

“Let’s go, Little Red,” said Agent Barnes cheerfully as he clambered
out of the car.

He opened Zoey’s door for her. “There’s a boardroom filled with important
people waiting to see you. I think they’re still in shock, to tell you the
truth. It’s been a while since anyone’s seen a Drifter. You’re quite the
mystery to all of us. I can’t wait to see the look on Director Martin’s face
when he sees you. I just might take a picture.”

Zoey climbed out of the back seat and stood on a stone walkway at the
entrance of the building.

They were all a mystery to her as well. She clenched her trembling
fingers into fists so that Agent Barnes wouldn’t see how nervous she felt. The
building looked like a research facility or a giant laboratory, imposing yet cold
and probably super clean—nothing like the foster homes she’d lived in before,
with her friends the cockroaches and Mr. and Mrs. Rat.