Mystics #1: The Seventh Sense (13 page)

And then, like a light switching on in her brain, she knew—the
cat-faced woman was responsible.

A chill washed over her. She had overheard them plotting. And although
the agency didn’t believe her, apparently the cat-faced woman hadn’t taken any
chances. She had found Zoey out and had released these mystics in the hopes of
killing her.

But her plan had failed.

A cold sweat trickled down her back—sooner or later the cat-faced
woman would try again. Who knew what sort of evil mystic she would unleash next—or
when. One thing was for certain, they would be much worse than the
Krakenites
.

Zoey went to work. She knelt down beside an elderly man with a nasty
cut on his face. He was lying on his back, his eyes were closed, and she
couldn’t tell if he was breathing. Gently, she dabbed a towel on his wounds. He
had a great red stain on his shirt—he was bleeding out. She took another towel
and pressed it against his stomach. Tears swelled in her eyes—this was all her
fault.

“You…you…” said the man. His voice was ragged. Blood seeped from the
corners of his mouth.

“Don’t talk,” said Zoey gently. “You need to save your energy. Help
is coming.”

She gave him a reassuring smile, feeling worse and worse by the
minute. Her eyes burned, and she blinked until the wetness dried up. She didn’t
want the man to see her cry.

 
“Your hair,” said the man,
his voice was almost a whisper. “I knew a woman once with hair just like
yours.”

The hairs on the back of Zoey’s neck stood up. “What? What did you
say?”

She leaned forward. Maybe she had misunderstood?

The man smiled. “I had never seen the like—
fire red
—just like yours. And you have the same green eyes. How
peculiar.”

Zoey lost her voice. When she found it again, she asked. “Who—who was
she?”

The man coughed up some blood. His eyes opened wide for a moment, and
then he lay still. For a horrible moment she thought he had died, but then his
lips moved, and he spoke.

“Her name was Elizabeth.”

“Where is she?” Zoey couldn’t mask the desperation in her voice. She
felt like she was about to jump out of her skin.

“Where can I find her? Please! Please tell me where she is!” her
voice rose, and she fought to control her nerves. She crumpled the bloody towel
with trembling hands, her heart suddenly slamming against her chest.

Between coughs, the man said, “Troll City, Louisiana.”

And then his mouth fell open. A single, long breath escaped him. His
eyes stared at the ceiling, glazed over, and he didn’t speak again.

E
lizabeth…

Zoey hadn’t slept a wink—the name haunted her. Was this mysterious
woman her mother? She had waited all her life for a clue as to who she was. What
the man had told her before he died
had
to be true—
she
had never seen anyone
with the same hair color. Even dyed, it was never the same
fire red
—the man’s words exactly. You had to be born with it.

After harassing the agents for five days, Zoey finally discovered
the man’s name. He was Oliver Scott. He was a retired agent from New York who
had been visiting an old friend at the hive in Toronto. The friend, a Mr. Dean Daigle,
was still alive and worked in Inter-dimension trade, communications &
transportation, room 2A.

With Mr. Daigle’s help, Zoey had found out that Oliver Scott had
been a widower, with no children or any living relatives, even Sevenths. He appeared
to have had no living friends except for Mr. Daigle. She had no one else to ask
about the mysterious Elizabeth. But her hopes were quickly deflated when she
asked him about her.

“I’m sorry, dear; I don’t know any woman by that name or with red
hair. I never heard him say that name, ever. I’m terribly sorry,” he had told
her.

Zoey’s mood darkened. She had been so close to discovering something
about her past, and now it was slipping away like an old memory. She meandered
around the hive like the living dead—her body moved, but her spirit was
elsewhere, dull and unresponsive. She couldn’t concentrate on her studies
without imagining what her mother might have looked like. Was she pretty? Tall?
Skinny and small like her?

Tristan and Simon were worried that she was about to have a
meltdown. They couldn’t understand how she felt—they had real families—she had
never known hers. She pretended to have headaches so they wouldn’t feel sorry
for her.

The dying man’s face haunted her, too. No one had ever died in her
arms before—it had been a surreal experience and had left her feeling cold and
numb. She remembered that his body had stayed warm after he’d gone. He had looked
peaceful, as though he was sleeping.

Zoey had been restless for five straight days when she decided that
there was only one thing left to do.
She
had to go to Troll City, Louisiana.

Although Tristan and Simon had tried to grab her attention after
class, she said nothing to them and approached Agent Vargas’s desk. She gave
him her best smile.

“Uh, Agent Vargas,” she said. “May I ask you something?”

He was typing on his computer and didn’t look up. “Yes, Zoey, what
is it?”

“I’d like permission to go to Troll City, sir.”

Agent Vargas’s fingers slipped on his keyboard. “What? Troll City?
Where did you hear such a name?”

“From Agent Oliver Scott,” said Zoey. “It won’t be for long, I only
need a few hours. See, that’s where he said my
mo
—where
he said the woman who looked like me is. I’d like to go look for her. I need to
know where I come from—who I am.”

Agent Vargas sighed heavily and gave Zoey a painful smile. “I
understand your desire to look for this woman, truly I do, but you
can’t
go to Troll City. It’s impossible.”

Zoey’s smile quickly vanished

“What do you mean? Why not? Why can’t I go?” her voice rose, and she
didn’t bother hiding her anger. She hadn’t expected him to say no.

“Because it’s too dangerous,” answered Agent Vargas. “It’s a mystic
town, and a very treacherous one at that. Humans are
not
welcome there. The mystics chose to settle in that area to be
away
from humans. We have to respect the
rules of our treaty, and this is one of them. Troll City is off limits. That is
all.”

Zoey couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “But she’s there—I
have
to find out if she’s my real
mother. You can’t keep that from me—”

“It’s impossible. I’m sorry, Zoey, but you cannot go. No one can.”

“What if I went with an agent? I’m sure Agent Barnes would come with
me.
He
would want to help me find my
mother—I know he would.”

Agent Vargas shook his head solemnly. “You’re not listening to what
I’m trying to tell you. No one, not even an agent, is allowed to set foot in Troll
City. If fact, I believe that no agent or human has
ever
entered the city. Mr. Scott was dying—he was confused. He
wasn’t conscious of what he was saying. I’m just sorry he made you believe some
story about a woman—”

“It wasn’t a story,” blurted Zoey. She frowned. “He was telling the
truth.”

“Well, I see that my reasoning with you is pointless,” said Agent
Vargas.

“Believe what you will, but forget about Troll City. Now, off you go
and don’t mention it to me again.” He dismissed her.

Tears brimmed around her eyes. She stood there for a moment before
she stormed out of the room. She ran past Tristan and Simon without looking at
them. She couldn’t let her only clue to her mother’s identity slip away. She
would
find a way.

She gathered her wits and slowed down so that Tristan and Simon could
catch up.

“So, I’m guessing he said no,” said Simon.

“I knew it was a mistake to ask him. I mean, as little kids our
parents told us scary bedtime stories about Troll City. It’s the creepiest
place on earth—why would you want to go there? Mystics
eat
children in that city. They don’t care about the treaty—they
make their own rules. You’d have to be insane to set foot in that town. I
wouldn’t go there, even if they paid me a million dollars.”

“No one is asking you to go.” Zoey marched down to the main entrance
and pushed open the front doors. The cool air felt great on her hot face.

Tristan ran after her. “I know you’re mad Zoey, but be reasonable.
Zoey!”

He grabbed her hand and turned her around to face him. “Wait a
second, will you? You have to stop this. You’re obsessing about something that
might not even be true. Just stop a second and think it through, okay?”

Zoey wiggled out of his grasp. “It
is
true. I know it’s true. I don’t care if you don’t believe me.
You don’t understand. You can’t understand. Both of you guys have families—you
have parents that love and support you. You can’t understand what it’s like to
grow up alone. All I ever wanted was a family, a real one. I need to do this
for
me
.”

Tristan’s expression contracted. “Need to do…
what
exactly? What are you saying?”

He watched her for a moment, and then the realization slowly appeared
on his face.

“No. Please tell me you’re not planning on going? Zoey, that’s insane.
I won’t let you.”

“Go? Go where exactly?” said Simon, looking paler than usual.

Zoey turned away from them. “I’m not asking you to come with me. I
wouldn’t want you guys to get in trouble. But I’m going. I’m going tonight.”

Simon pulled the hair on the top of his head. “Oh, man. Oh, man. Oh
man. This is wild! This is nuts! I think I’m breaking out in hives!”

Tristan took Zoey’s hand, but she pulled it away. He watched her
anxiously.

“Zoey, you can’t be serious. Please, think about this for a moment.
Just think about what you’re saying—”

“I’ve been thinking about it for five days,” said Zoey. “I need to
do this. I’m going to Troll City, and no one’s going to stop me.”

Tristan surveyed her silently for a moment. “Then I’m coming with
you.”

“What!” Simon wailed. “Do you hear yourselves? Both of you have lost
your minds. You’re crazy, nuts,
spazzed
, off the
wagon, lobotomized. You’re both completely insane.”

“You coming with us?” asked Tristan casually.

Simon responded immediately, “Of course I am.”

The light of adventure burned in his eyes, and he smiled. “This is
the kind of stuff that’ll make men out of us. Maybe I’ll come back with real
facial hair? Women love that.”

Zoey smiled at her friends. “If things go wrong, don’t blame me.”

“We won’t,” Tristan and Simon chorused together.

“You can still say no—” she began. “—I wouldn’t be upset. I would
totally understand.”

“We’re coming with you.”

Tristan fell silent for a second and looked at Zoey. “You’ll need
someone to watch your back,” he said finally. “—And Simon can watch mine.”

“So who’s going to watch my back?” said Simon, looking behind him.

“We both will,” answered Zoey.

She lowered her voiced and looked around, “You think you can meet me
at midnight tonight in the main hall?”

“Yes,” said Tristan.

“Okay,” answered Simon. “My dad’s going to kill me if he catches me
using my mirror-port in the middle of the night.”

Tristan raised an eyebrow. “So don’t let him catch you.”

With Tristan and Simon watching her back, what could possibly go
wrong? Zoey felt certain they would find Elizabeth.

“So it’s settled then,” she said, smiling. “See you at midnight.”

There was added security after the
Krakenite
attacks, so Zoey had sneaked back into the hive before lockdown and had hidden
in room 1D. If an agent came by, she would use the excuse that she had homework
to catch up on. To make her story more believable, she logged on and did actual
work until the numbers at the bottom right of her screen said
12:00 AM
.

With her gold boomerang fastened securely to the bracelet around her
right wrist, she logged off and quietly closed the door behind her. Holding her
breath, she tiptoed on the marble floors and along the dark corridors. She shifted
her weight carefully so she wouldn’t make a sound with her sneakers.

The moon shone through the tall windows and turned the walls and
floors to shades of silver and blue. The darkness and eerie silence were gloomy.

Footsteps echoed down the hall.

She pressed herself flat against the wall and waited, her heart
banging in her ears. The footsteps neared. She stopped breathing and stole a
peek.

A young agent patrolled the hallway. He had the determined
expression of a rookie who took this job very seriously. Simon and Tristan
would be stepping out of the mirrors in the main hall any second now—the agent
would see them. It would be her fault if they got caught. They might even get
suspended. She needed to distract the agent.

She ran back down the hall and slipped through the door of Room 1D. She
hurried over to the weapons table and grabbed a metal ball for one of the
slingshots. Then she sprinted back to the door and peeked through to make sure
the young agent was still patrolling the hall near the mirrors.

She pitched the tiny ball down the opposite corridor. It hit door 1B
with an echo. Then it bounced off the adjacent walls, making even more of a
racket as it rolled down the passageway.

Zoey hid behind the door and watched the agent charge into room 1B. While
he was occupied, she sneaked down the corridor in the other direction—just in
time to see Tristan and Simon step out of a mirror.

“We don’t have much time,” she said catching her breath. “There’s an
agent patrolling the corridors. I distracted him, but he’ll be back any second.”

“Oh, man, we’re going to get caught!” whined Simon.

“SHHH!” Tristan put a hand on Simon’s mouth.

“Quiet,” he said in a whisper and then let him go.

Zoey surveyed the end of the hallway. “The coast is clear,” she
whispered. “He didn’t hear
us
,”—she
glowered at Simon—“But we have to hurry. We need to find the mirror that will
get us to Troll City.”

With Tristan and Simon on the left side, and Zoey on the right, the
three of them began to examine the walls of mirrors, searching for the one they
needed. Within seconds she found an inscription that read United States of
America. She knew that Louisiana was a southern state. This was the one.

“Found it,” she said. Tristan and Simon moved next to her. She glanced
at her friends, trying not to look as excited as she felt.

“Ready? You guys ready? It’s now or never.”

“You sure this is going to work?” asked Simon nervously. “I mean—maybe
they don’t have a mirror-port anchor in Troll City? It makes sense. They hate
us there anyway. What if we mirror-port into the mouth of a giant, angry
mystic? Have you thought of that?”

“We’re not going to mirror-port into the mouth of some giant mystic.
The mirror should be able to tell us right away.”

Zoey stepped up to the side panel and typed:

Troll City, Louisiana, USA
.

She waited—her stomach in knots—she didn’t trust herself to look at
Tristan or Simon. What if Simon was right? What if Troll City didn’t have an
anchor? How would she ever get there? It’s not like she had any money to take a
bus or an airplane.

Before she could have a panic attack, there was a sudden
buzzing,
and then the green light came
on above the mirror with a
click
. The
mirror hummed softly. The inside glowed with silver light and rippled like tiny
waves on a pond.

“It actually worked?” said Tristan inspecting the mirror.

He didn’t realize how loud his voice resonated in the hallway. “I
had my doubts. I didn’t think the agency would even have a mirror-port to
that
city.”

“But they did.” Zoey exhaled. “You guys ready?”

“HEY! YOU THERE! STOP!”

The young agent came running at top speed. His face was flushed, and
he looked very angry.

“People—” said Simon, with a hint of tension in his voice, “—if we
don’t move now, this charming young fella is going to get us.”

“It’s now or never,” said Zoey excitedly. “You can still back out—it’s
not too late.”

“Never,” said Tristan, “We’re coming.”

“Then come on!” Without another second to lose, Zoey climbed into
the mirror and vanished from the great hall.