Mystics #1: The Seventh Sense (5 page)

“Yes, sir.” She saw the woman and director Martin exchange a dark look.

“And how old are you?”

“Just turned fourteen, sir—director, sir,” answered Zoey, and then
she added, “They gave me the sixteenth of May as my birthday, but I don’t know
my real one.”

Director Hicks nodded and laced his fingers on the desk.

“And you’ve been living in foster care this whole time, fighting off
dangerous mystics on your own to stay alive. What’s even more remarkable to us
is that for fourteen years you’ve managed to keep the Mutes from discovering
you—discovering what you
are
to be
more precise. For someone so young, that’s quite extraordinary.”

“She’s an extraordinary girl,” said Agent Barnes, and he winked at Zoey.

She had to force herself not to smile.

“I did what I could to survive,” she said, feeling her voice
stronger. “Until now, well, from what I’ve seen here, I didn’t even know that
there were friendly monsters—”

“We prefer the term
mystics
,
if you please,” interrupted the woman, spite coated her voice.

“The
M-word
is so very
discourteous to our friends and colleagues. It is forbidden in these parts, and
if you wish to remain here with us, you best remember that.” She stared at Zoey
accusingly.

Zoey shrank back. Why were these people so displeased with her? They
didn’t even know her.

“Let’s give her a chance to learn our ways, director Campbell,” said
the man with the dark skin. “She has only just arrived. There will be time for
her to learn the laws of her people.”

Director Campbell continued to eye Zoey suspiciously. “If you say
so, director Johnson. Clearly she has lots to catch up on. Are we certain
having her here is the right decision? Perhaps one of the Sevenths’ foster
families will take her in? It might be less of a
shock
for her to live with them. It might make her transition to
our world a little easier.”

“She is one of us. She belongs here,” said director Hicks
impatiently. “From what Agent Barnes has told us, she could do well in the operative’s
program, but it is too early to determine her fate.”

He turned to Zoey. “For all our sakes, and yours, it would be best to
put you on a trial basis for now and see how well you do. Would that suit you?”

Zoey felt her spirits rise. “Yes. Yes it would.”

“But she’s a Drifter!” Director Martin raised his voice. “She’s had
no knowledge of our people or our ways since today—she’s practically a Mute! Without
basic
education and training, she’ll
be years behind the other operatives. It’ll take her forever to catch up, if by
a miracle she
is
able to manage. But
even then, is it fair to introduce her to the program so early? And what about
the other operatives? Will she drag them down? We’ve never had a Drifter join
the program before. I say she should be sent to one of our foster families—”

“She can manage,” interrupted Agent Barnes, his voice rising as well.
“All Seventh children are schooled in our ways and are taught to fight, why
shouldn’t she learn to do so as well? She’s already fought a Skin demon on her
own, and many others like it. She’s ready. She should be with the other kids. It
makes no sense to put her back into a foster home.”

“Will you vouch for her then?” said Agent Johnson, his voice even.

Agent Barnes gave a nod of his head. “I will. Little Red here’s got
a lot of spunk. She has street smarts, and she’s proven that she’s capable all
on her own. I think she’ll be a great addition to the program—the other kids
could learn from her. I would be glad to have her on my team.”

Zoey stared at Agent Barnes. Her heart swelled with respect and
admiration for him. No one had ever spoken so highly about her before. She
wanted to hug him.

“So it’s settled then,” said director Hicks.

He smiled warmly at Zoey. “Zoey St. John will join the operative
program on a trial basis. She can board with the out-of-towners at the Wander
Inn. All in favor?” He raised his right hand and looked to the other directors.

Slowly, director Johnson and director Campbell raised their hands,
but director Martin’s hands stayed flat on the desk. He glowered at Zoey.

“Majority wins,” said director Hicks. “Welcome to your new home,
Zoey St. John. I hope you’ll enjoy it here and make lots of new friends.”

 
Zoey sat silently for a
moment.

“Really?” she said finally, trying hard to hide her excitement,
although she wanted to jump up from her chair and start dancing.

“Really,” said director Hicks.

Zoey grinned widely. “Thank you, thank you very much. You won’t be
sorry, I promise.” And when she looked over to Agent Barnes, he gave her two
thumbs up and looked very pleased with himself.

“Agent Barnes, please escort our newest member to the Wander Inn. They
have already prepared her room.”

“Right away, director Hicks.”

After Agent Barnes had acknowledged the last of the directors with a
nod of his head, he steered Zoey out the door—but not before she heard director
Hicks call out, “Good luck, Zoey!”

As they made their way down the hall, Agent Barnes laughed. “Thought
you were going to faint in there—you were as white as a sheet.”

Zoey felt a weight leave her as she stepped out the room. “I was
more worried about being sick than fainting. I don’t think director Martin
would have liked that very much.”

Agent Barnes laughed. “No, I don’t think he would have.”

The outcome was better than Zoey had expected, and her memories of
life with foster mother number 28 began to fade. But even as she walked back
she was still worried by the uncertainty in the faces of some of the directors.
It was almost as if they felt she wasn’t
good
enough to be there—as if somehow her presence would taint the rest of the
Sevenths like a bad apple. Being a
Drifter,
it seemed, was very similar to being an
orphan
.

Tainted by association.

They descended the stairs, passed the lobby, and went out the front
doors. Zoey followed Agent Barnes across a smooth lawn. The moon shone down and
cast long and looming shadows.

About fifteen yards behind the agency stood a white stone building
the size of a large cottage. It had black shutters and a welcoming wraparound
porch. Lights shone from the inside, and a hand-painted wooden sign on the
front post said The Wander Inn
.

Agent Barnes walked up to the front door. “This is where the out-of-town
Sevenths stay when they’re visiting. It’s your new home. It’s not as fancy as a
hotel, but it’s real cozy. Just what an inn should be.”

Zoey followed him in.

They walked into a living area where a man reading a book sat
comfortably in a large chair facing a fireplace. Two sofas faced each other on
a plush, deep red Persian carpet, and the room had a cozy feel. A large
staircase led to the upper floor, and on the opposite side was a dining area
with a variety of small wood tables and chairs. It reminded Zoey of the little
café shops she used to go to back in the city. The smell of cooked food brought
water to Zoey’s mouth. Only then did she realize how hungry she was.

“Hello again, Agent Barnes,” said a voice.

Zoey looked up. A six-foot tall woman with shark-gray skin and long,
silky white hair came towards them. She was so thin, just skin and bones, that
she looked as though she was drowning in her clothes. While she had odd, cat-like,
yellow eyes, what made Zoey flinch were the woman’s four arms. Zoey’s skin
tingled with a warm rush, similar to what she had felt in the main hall when
the mystics had first stepped out of the mirrors, but the sensation was subtle
and vanished as fast as it had appeared.

“Hi, Aria,” said Agent Barnes. “I’d like you to meet your newest
boarder, Zoey St. John. Zoey, this is Aria, the owner of the Wander Inn.”

Aria held out one of her right hands. “Hello, Zoey. Everyone here
calls me Aria.”

Zoey shook one of her hands a little awkwardly, trying not to stare
at the woman’s other arms, which hung at her sides like rubber hoses.

“Thanks for having me,” mumbled Zoey, not knowing what else to say.

“I’m glad to finally meet you,” said Aria. “Everyone’s been talking
about you tonight. We’re all very excited to have you here with us, and I’m
very happy to have you stay here with me. The hive being such a small community
and all—you’re like the newest celebrity.”

She stood with her four hands on her hips and looked grim. “You
haven’t eaten in a while. Let me fetch you something to eat. I’ll bring it up.
Agent Barnes, could you show Zoey to her room—top of the stairs, it’s the last
one on the left.”

“Sure thing, Aria. Come along, Little Red.”

Zoey watched Aria disappear through the dining room. She then climbed
the stairs behind Agent Barnes, who guided her to her room. A single bed was angled
under a large window with soft white linen curtains, and a large dresser stood
beside a closet on the opposite wall. Another door stood ajar and revealed a
shower, a toilet, and a pedestal sink—her own master bathroom. She felt like
she was staying in a fancy hotel.

“This is
my
room?”

Agent Barnes lost his smile. “What’s wrong with it? You don’t like
it?”

Zoey’s face lit up. She had never had a room to herself before. She’d
always had to share smelly old mattresses and stained sheets with the other
foster kids. This room smelled like lavender and lilacs. She had never imagined
a bedroom could be so wonderful. And it was hers. “No, it’s perfect. I love it.
I couldn’t have imagined a more beautiful room. It’s really amazing.”

“Good.” Agent Barnes turned towards the door. “After you eat, you go
straight to bed. You can do your exploring tomorrow. Tonight you’ll need all
the rest you can get.”

 
Zoey frowned, tearing her
eyes away from her new room.

“Why’s that?”

“You have a big day tomorrow,” he said. “Tomorrow, you start your
training.”

Z
oey hardly slept a wink. She had
kept her
exploring
to the confines of
her bedroom. She tried on all her new clothes which, for the first time in her
life, were miraculously her size. She jumped on her bed and flushed the toilet,
just because she could. The excitement of the day still rushed through her. After
a quick shower, she had fallen asleep in her bathrobe. She awoke to a soft tap
on her bedroom door the next morning.

“Time to get up, Zoey, breakfast is ready.” Zoey recognized Aria’s
voice through the door. Her seventh sense reacted with the subtlest of warm
prickles on her skin, as though she somehow recognized that the mystic was not
a threat.

“Come down when you’re ready.”

“Okay,” mumbled Zoey, “I’m getting up.”

She swung her legs off the bed, her eyes puffy with lack of sleep. She
felt a pain in her arm from sleeping in an awkward position, but she didn’t let
it dampen her spirits. At first when she woke up, she had thought it had all
been a dream, that the hive and the agency weren’t real. But now—sitting on her
lovely bed at the Wander Inn and staring out at the rolling hills outside her
window—and not at a concrete jungle—she knew it was all
real
.

She pulled on a new pair of jeans, T-shirt, laced up her sneakers, and
brushed her hair into a static mess of a ponytail. She closed her bedroom door
and went downstairs.

She was greeted by the same man she had seen the night before. He
was sitting in the living area, and another man in his thirties sat by himself.
Zoey sat at a table near the windows. As soon as she had taken her seat, Aria
rushed towards her, holding four plates piled with food.

“Nothing like a good breakfast to start the day.”

She placed the plates carefully in front of Zoey and watched her
eagerly with her yellow, cat-like eyes.

“Hope you like a big breakfast. I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I
made a little of everything. I’m afraid I got a little carried away. But
please
don’t feel pressured to eat
everything
, I don’t want to make you
sick on your very first day.”

Aria’s yellow eyes and four arms still made Zoey a little
uncomfortable, and she did her best not to stare. And yet, there was something
comforting about the gray-skinned woman. Like a real aunt or close relative,
Aria made Zoey feel safe.

Zoey had never seen so much food so early in the morning. It was a
breakfast buffet for her alone, and she was ravenous.

“This is great. It smells amazing. Thank you, Aria.”

Aria beamed and wiped her four hands on her apron. “Well, let me
know if you want anything else. I’ll go and fetch you a nice big glass of
orange juice. Be right back.”

There was bacon, scrambled and poached eggs, eggs benedict, pancakes,
French toast, potatoes, sausages, fruits, breads, oatmeal, three different
types of cereal, and baked beans. She had two servings of everything and washed
it all down with a giant glass of orange juice. It was the most delicious
breakfast Zoey had ever eaten. Clearly Aria was a master chef. She burped when
she had finished, and Aria giggled.

“Morning, Aria.”

Tristan strolled through the dining room. Zoey’s eyes met his for a
second, and he looked down with a widening smile.

She wiped the crumbs from her face. She realized that the enormous
pile of plates in front of her made her look like a pig, and that he had probably
heard her burp, too.

Then another series of goose bumps riddled her skin, but she had no
idea what to make of them. Was it because Aria was near? She would have to
control her seventh sense. She tried to calm down, and the feelings slowly disappeared.

Aria stacked the empty plates. “Hi, Tristan. Can I get you anything?
There are still lots in the kitchen. A growing boy like you needs to eat.”

“Smells delicious, but I’ve already eaten, thanks. I’m here to pick
up Zoey for her first lesson.”

He stared at the leftovers on the table and the crumbs on her shirt.
“Someone’s been busy. Did you eat
all
of it?”

“What?” said Zoey, wiping her shirt. “I have to catch up on fourteen
years of malnourishment. Thought I’d get an early start.”

“I can see that,” laughed Tristan.

“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
¼
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: