The dino-fairy kept grinning. And then she thought of something and raised her hands.
“I won’t harm you, I promise. How about we call this quits, and you can join your furry friends. Truce?”
She was hoping it was a stupid mystic, and that it hadn’t noticed that her bag was full of its frozen kin.
The fairy frowned and made a fist with its massive hand and then pointed to her bag. “Ich tactuc se vitan, homen!” growled the creature.
Zoey swallowed back her fear.
“Okay, so you saw the bag. Guess you’re not as stupid as you look. Now what?”
She didn’t have to understand its language to know that it meant to kill her. Just one blow from the dino-fairy’s powerful fists, and she would be nothing more than a pile of red jelly. She watched the large fairy carefully.
“And now you’re drooling. Well, that’s just great. You want to eat me too. Before or after you kill me?”
With a beat of its wings, the dino-fairy crouched down, and using its weight as momentum it pushed itself in the air, hovered for a moment, beating its wings furiously—and then fell back down.
It was too heavy to fly.
“Guess you should have stayed on that diet, huh?” said Zoey, and then regretted saying it as soon as the words escaped her mouth.
The dino-fairy beat the air in a rage.
“Toi homen!” it said, and then the ground shook as the fairy charged at her like a mad rhinoceros.
Knowing the odds were against her, Zoey stood still until the very last second—and faked to the left. The dino-fairy stormed past her, too heavy, and with too much momentum to stop suddenly. Zoey ran in the opposite direction. She raced across the field and prayed that she wouldn’t trip in the semi-darkness. The dino-fairy galloped behind her like an earthquake. She could almost feel the beast’s warm, rancid breath on the back of her neck.
Something pulled at the back of her shirt. Her feet left the ground, and she soared through the air and crashed into a wood fence. She gasped for air as she struggled to get on her feet, but she tripped over her own legs and fell flat on her face in the mud. Her legs were tangled in wires from the fence. They wrapped around her legs like metal cobwebs. She was trapped.
“Ich tactuc se vitan, homen!”
Zoey turned her head.
The dino-fairy stood in front of her with its fists clenched, and an ugly satisfied smile on its face.
Zoey held its gaze without blinking. She wasn’t about to let herself become a fairy’s midnight snack. She struggled with the wires around her wet muddy legs.
Green drool dripped from the corners of the dino-fairy’s mouth like melted cheese. It was only two feet away from her now, and its warm, rancid breath was choking her, like hands wrapped tightly around her neck.
A wet laugh escaped from its throat—it was going to enjoy ripping her to shreds.
Tristan and Simon called out to her, but she couldn’t see them. They were too far away. It was too late. They would never reach her in time.
The giant fairy reached out and grabbed Zoey by the throat. It lifted her so savagely that the force ripped away the tangled wires around her legs, cutting through her skin like hot knives. The searing pain blinded her for a moment. She felt blood seeping down her legs, but she couldn’t even cry out—she couldn’t breathe. Then the creature’s grip around her throat lessened, and it threw her down against the ground.
Zoey took dry grasps of air into her lungs, coughing as the tears rolled down her face. The blood pounded in her ears, and her heart hammered in her chest as though she had just run a marathon. Her lips quivered as she took another shaky breath. She had almost died.
The fairy smiled and laughed at her broken frame, its eyes full of hatred and excitement. It wanted to play with her before the kill, like cats did with mice.
She realized that her jeans were soaking wet with water, not with blood. She had stumbled into a stream. And then it hit her. Water was a protective agent against fairies.
She remembered—she remembered it all.
She gathered what strength she had left, picked herself up on shaky legs, and faced the giant beast.
“You want me troll-breath?” she taunted, the words burning her throat. “Then come and get me.”
With an adrenaline rush, Zoey turned and ran towards the water in a desperate last attempt to save her life. She plunged into the stream.
She heard a loud splash behind her and turned around.
The dino-fairy was charging at her like a bull through the water.
Why hadn’t the water worked? Had she remembered it wrong? The blood drained from her face—her plan had failed. The last of her strength escaped her and she halted.
There was no point in running anymore. She stood her ground. She would fight until the end.
Suddenly, the dino-fairy staggered, and its expression changed to confusion and fear. It turned and tried to run, but some invisible force deep in the water caught its legs, as if it were in a bog. It howled in excruciating pain. Blue vapors steamed around its body as the water burned its skin like acid. It thrashed and wailed as its skin peeled off like thick orange rinds and exposed the pink tissue underneath.
With a series of pops and zaps, the dino-fairy began to shrink in a haze of blue steam. The stream boiled and sizzled like a pot full of oil. And then there was nothing left of the giant creature but a little blue bubble that popped and dissipated in the stream.
“Now that’s what I call deep-fried fairy.”
Simon stood at the edge of the stream with his cell phone aimed at the remains of the dino-fairy. “Got it all on film,” he said proudly.
“Too bad I can’t put this on the net, it would have gone viral in seconds—I would have been famous.”
“Zoey! Are you all right?” Tristan jumped into the water and lifted her up as though she weighed no more than a feather.
“You’re bleeding—and it did a real number on your throat. You’re lucky to be alive you know. I’m going to kill Stuart.”
Zoey coughed when she tried to speak. Finally, she was able to mutter. “No. Don’t. Not worth it.” Her throat was raw, like she had just swallowed a handful of razors.
“This isn’t over, Zoey.” Tristan’s expression darkened. “I’ve always said there was something off about him, but I never imagined that he would stoop this low.”
The other operatives were all standing at the edge of the stream now, looking bewildered. All but one. Stuart looked like he had bitten into something sour. Even in the dark, Zoey could see he was flustered and frustrated. Zoey smiled—his plan to kill her hadn’t worked after all.
Agent Vargas came thrashing into the stream. He looked so angry that Zoey thought she could see steam rolling off the top of his head. He stood looking at the spot where the dino-fairy had melted and then gave Stuart a piercing look.
“Why wasn’t I notified of the Nitro-fairy?” he asked furiously. “You were working the west side of the lines, Stuart. You must have seen it. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m sorry Agent Vargas, but I didn’t see anything, honest,” said Stuart innocently. “It’s dark; I must have missed it. My eyesight’s not the best at night—”
“Liar!” shouted Tristan. “You knew it was there, and you dared Zoey to go—to prove that she was one of us. You tried to get her killed!”
Stuart gave Tristan a blank expression. “It was an honest mistake. I didn’t see it. Promise.”
“I’m disappointed in you, Stuart King,” said Agent Vargas. “It’s not like you to miss something this big.”
He stared at Stuart for a moment before turning to Zoey.
“Well, she surely has proven herself as a very capable operative today, if I do say so.” He gave her a smile.
“The more electricity fairies feed on, the more powerful they become, and the bigger they grow. Once they reach the Nitro size, it’s very hard to contain them. The fellow you obliterated had probably been feeding for days befor
e the others arrived here. He would have been a mighty opponent for an experienced agent. You’re lucky you weren’t killed. It takes a great agent to battle a Nitro-fairy, especially one that size.”
“Guess I was lucky,” said Zoey, although she winced with the pain of her injuries.
Agent Vargas beamed. “Agent Barnes told me you had what it takes—that you had mastered skills beyond your years. Now I’ve seen it with my own eyes. Good work, Zoey St. John.”
“Thank you.” Zoey pressed her lips tightly together as she tried to reduce the giant smile that threatened to take over her face.
“Everyone,” called Agent Vargas, “bag the rest of the fairies. We’re moving out.”
As Tristan helped Zoey out of the stream, she stood back and watched as all the remaining fairies were sprayed and bagged until not one was left on the ripped and torn power lines. With their bags over their shoulders, the operatives circled around Agent Vargas.
“Apart from a minor disruption, we managed to stay on target and on time,” said the agent. “Get your DSM’s out! Let’s leave the great outback.” He pulled out his double-sided-mirror and flipped it open with a flick of his wrist.
Zoey was nervous about the voyage home. Would she throw up again on the other side? She pulled out her silver compact and popped it open with her finger. Even in the moonlight she could see her reflection stare back at her anxiously.
She wondered if the stolen interloper was also a mirrored device. It would make sense if it were, since it was also used for teleportation. But maybe it was something entirely different.
“On my mark!” announced Agent Vargas. “DSM’s ready! Into positions, nobody move. Let’s go!”
Zoey watched as the operatives stood still, looking into their DSM’s. The operatives’ bodies started to shimmer like ghosts in a breeze until they were no more than wraithlike silhouettes. With a small pop, they disappeared one by one, like dominos. Tristan smiled at her before he disappeared.
“Yah, hoo!” said Simon, and his ghost body rippled and was gone.
Zoey readied herself for her turn. She tipped her DSM slightly to get all her reflection inside the mirror first. Holding her breath, she stood as still as she could.
She didn’t see the cold blue eyes or the arm that reached out and pushed her until it was too late.
Her reflection shifted, and she vanished.
Chapter 9
A DSM Malfunction
The second time Zoey used the DSM was just as terrifying as the first.
Her body was stretched like an elastic band, as though she had no bones and was just a bag of blood and guts. She floated as if she were swimming without water. And finally she spun dizzily, before light exploded all around her, and her feet met solid ground.
At first, she could see only gray shapes. Slowly her vision cleared and her motion sickness lifted. She was still in once piece. She took a moment and looked around.
She stood in a dark room, like some sort of storage unit. What light there was seeped in between heavy old curtains that hung on the only window. Tables and chairs were stacked in piles against the walls. Boxes were piled on top of one another. The air was stuffy and smelled like old socks and the musty carpets from the orphanage. Her nose itched, and she felt the sudden urge to sneeze. She had no idea where she was, but one thing was for sure, this was not the hive.
An old mirror on carved lion’s feet stood behind her. It was round, and its silver frame was a snake chasing its tail. It looked ancient, older than any mirror she had seen back at the hive. She was sure that it was a mirror-port anchor, but why was it hidden away in a storage room? Zoey’s intuition told her that there was something very wrong with this picture. There was only one reason a mirror-port anchor would be kept hidden—to be used in secret. The question was, who was keeping it secret and why?
Voices came from behind the walls, and her heart leaped into her throat. There was more than one voice, and they were arguing. She pocketed her DSM, tiptoed across the room and pressed her ear against the wall. It was definitely a heated discussion.
“It will never work,” said a man’s voice angrily. “It can’t be done. It can’t.”
“It must—and you will!” shouted a woman’s voice.
Zoey tried to melt against the wall to hear more clearly. Most of the conversation was muffled by the walls, as the two people moved around in the next room. She heard a crash, like a chair hitting the floor. She strained to listen.
“…now is our chance, we have the interloper,” said the woman.
Zoey froze. She couldn’t believe what she had heard.
The woman continued, “We will begin the necessary preparations immediately. I have been waiting patiently for fourteen years. Now we must play our cards right. The plan has been set in motion—nothing can stop us—not even the agency.”
Goosebumps riddled Zoey’s skin. She had heard it, clear as rain, interloper. They were arguing about something to do with the stolen interloper. And this woman had just told Zoey that she had it. Maybe she had it on her right now? What did it look like?
Zoey knew that she should use her DSM to report back to the hive as soon as possible. Agent Vargas and her friends would be worried that she’d had a mirror-port accident, and that her parts were scattered to the ends of the world. Moreover, she wanted nothing more than to punch Stuart in the face for bumping her arm just as she had used her DSM.
But she couldn’t bring herself to make the jump back. Something kept her where she stood—she couldn’t go just yet—she needed to know more.
She had read enough about police work to know that she had to figure out where she was. And after that she knew that she needed to identify these people. She needed to see their faces. It wouldn’t do any good to return without proof. A quick look was all she needed. She knew that if she could do this, the agency would have no more doubts about her—she would truly belong. Better yet, if she found the interloper and brought it back¼
She could see a door behind a mountain of boxes. She made for it.
The handle was cool against her skin. She took a deep breath, pulled it open, and peered through the crack. She could see a dark passageway with rounded walls like a tunnel. A single light flickered from the ceiling. The smell of mildew was heavy, and Zoey could feel the damp against her skin as she crept inside. By the looks of the decrepit limestone walls, she was in some sort of old cellar. Water trickled down the walls. The concrete floor was cracked, and water seeped through the crevices. This was definitely horror movie material. Was this what a castle’s dungeon looked like?
Zoey could hear the voices more clearly now. The light increased as she slowly crept towards them. Cobwebs stuck to her face. She pulled them off and wiped her hands on her jeans. As silent as a cat, she made her way forward.
She reached the end of the passageway, and from what she could see it opened up into a dimly lit chamber. She couldn’t see them, which meant they couldn’t see her. She flattened herself against the wall and listened.
“…You’ve already accepted your part in this,” the woman was saying. “You can’t back down now—it’s too late. You’ve made your choice and you will see it through. We still expect lots from you...”
There was a pause, and then the man spoke. He was clearly rattled, and his voice was high pitched and desperate, as though he had inhaled some helium.
“I should have never let you talk me into this! It’s only a matter of time before the agency finds out what I’ve done—and they will find me out! I can feel their eyes on me already. They suspect me already, I know it—I feel it. And then what will I do! There’s no place for me to hide? It’ll be all over for me.”
“Stop crying like a little girl,” the woman breathed, in a bored kind of voice. “I told you I would take care of you—”
“How? How are you planning on doing that?” said the man.
Zoey heard his footsteps pacing around the room. “Do you know what the punishment is for treason? A t
rip to the Nexus—never to return to our world—that’s the fate that’s waiting for me! Do you know what mystics do to agents over there?”
“I can imagine,” said the woman calmly.
“How can you be so calm about this?” shouted the man. “I’ve put my life on the line!”
“Because nothing is going to happen to you, my dear man.”
Zoey heard the sound of heels on concrete. “Now sit down. You’re giving me a headache with all that deplorable crying.”
Feet shuffled and then Zoey heard something heavy sit in a chair. She leaned a millimeter forward.
She heard heels scratch the floor again.
“We know how much you’ve given up for us,” continued the woman, “and you will be paid handsomely for your help.”
“I don’t care about the money,” said the man. “I care about my life. What’s the use of money if I can’t spend it because I’m dead?”
“We will keep you safe. Do not underestimate us, or our power. There are things which you still do not understand, but for now you must stay at the agency—until the time is right.”
“I don’t know if I can keep this up,” said the man, his voice wavering. “I feel like I’m going crazy with all the lies.”
“You will,” said the woman after a moment. “You must. This is still an ongoing operation, and you still have a part to play. It is not over—not yet. Soon you will have nothing to fear from the agency ever again. I promise you that.”
Zoey frowned. The couple stopped talking. If she didn’t chance to look at them now, she feared she’d get caught. They only had to move slightly, and they would see her. She had already wasted too much time eavesdropping.
With her heart thundering in her ears, she leaned forward.
The man sat with his back to her. His head was in his hands, and his shoulders shook as if he were crying. All she could make out was that he had thinning gray hair, wide shoulders, and hardly any neck.
Mystics #1: The Seventh Sense Page 10
