Mystics #1: The Seventh Sense

by Kim Richardson

  She watched the spot for a moment—half wishing for the horse would come back—but when it didn’t, she slipped back into the main hall.

  Tristan and Simon stood by the mirrors, anxiously waiting for her. When she reached them, she grabbed her boomerang and saw that her arm was still covered in blood.

  “You’re bleeding.”

  Tristan ripped the bottom of his T-shirt and wrapped it around Zoey’s arm before she could protest.

  “Thank you,” she said, avoiding his eyes and looking everywhere else but at him.

  She felt more nervous around him, now that she had discovered he was a mysterian. And she could tell that the more uncomfortable she felt—the more pain showed up on his face—which of course made her feel even worse that she had in the first place. She wasn’t sure what her feelings were for Tristan. But one thing was for sure—mysterian or not—he was still her friend. And right now, she needed him more than ever.

  “So, are we ready?” she said, breaking the tense silence.

  “This is going to get really ugly. You can still stay here if you want.”

  “We’re ready,” chorused Simon and Tristan.

  “I just hope we’re not too late,” said Zoey.

  She grinned. “Our mystery man is in for a shock when sees us again. I hope I’ll be the one to smack him first.”

  They stood in front of the mirror-port to London. Zoey reached out and typed on the keypad: Headquarters, Knightsbridge, London, England.

  The mirror swirled. The green light flicked on with a pop, and the three of them stepped through and vanished.

  Chapter 19

  Parrods Department Store, London

  Lights flashed behind Zoey’s eyelids. Her body had been stretched and pulled like elastic. And just before she was actually sick, she felt the air move around her, and her feet found solid ground. The nausea dissipated, and when she opened her eyes her jaw fell open.

  She stood in a department store, a very expensive looking department store. It was ornate with painstakingly restored turn of the century decor. Polished floors gleamed like gold. Row upon row of exquisite designer shops lined the perimeter of a giant room. She could smell fresh baked bread. There was a hallway with gourmet fruits and vegetables, cheeses, fish, poultry, meats, and a large bakery with mountains of multicolored cupcakes in the windows. Entire walls were decorated with a mosaic of colors. It was gigantic, the size of a football field. There was a large central escalator, decorated with Egyptian motifs, and other floors peeked from above.

  Masses of people strolled along the ground floor, buying, eating, and just wandering through the hundreds of shops. No one seemed to notice that she had just magically appeared inside the department store. Behind her, was a wall with a large floor to ceiling mirror—the mirror-port. But something was wrong. This wasn’t Headquarters.

  As she looked around, the air moved behind her, and Tristan and Simon appeared at her side.

  “Dudes, where the heck are we?” said Simon.

  He looked at Zoey. “Are you sure you typed the name in right? We’re like in a store or something, and there’re like thousands of Mutes staring at us.”

  Zoey shrunk back against the wall. “Yes, I think so.” But she wasn’t. She started to second-guess herself. Maybe she had written it wrong?

  Simon’s eyes widened. “Whoa! Is that a candy store? It’s massive. You think we have time for a little bite?”

  Zoey looked around. “I don’t understand—I thought I typed it in right.”

  “You did, I watched you do it,” said Tristan. The passersby eyed them suspiciously.

  “There must be a logical explanation why we landed here. I’m sure we’re not very far from Headquarters. It has to be somewhere near.”

  “How do we find it? We don’t even know where we are?”

  A group of posh looking girls wearing expensive designer clothes giggled and talked loudly as they walked by. Their arms were full of shopping bags that said Parrods.

  And then the girls stopped, whispered to each other, and pointed at them with appalled looks on their faces. Zoey hated these types of girls—the ones that spent their parent’s money like it grew on trees, buying everything with a label simply because they could.

  The only brand-name things that Zoey owned were her Converse sneakers—and she had bought them from a second-hand store.

  Zoey looked down at herself. She was covered in blood and dirt. The three of them looked like they had just come from a game of rugby in the rain. When she realized she still had her boomerang in her hand, she folded it and clipped it back onto her bracelet. The last thing they needed was for the Mutes to get in their way. But the posh girls shuffled on excitedly when they were distracted by the perfume counter.

  When they were out of earshot, Zoey said, “We’re in Parrods department store. Does that ring any bells?”

  Simon shook his head. “I hate shopping. I buy everything online.”

  Tristan frowned. “We’re close because we mirror-ported here. Headquarters is here somewhere—it has to be. Maybe there’s another way in.”

  “In a department store?” said Zoey.

  “Well, okay. We better find it quickly though. The Mutes are starting to notice us. Maybe we should look outside—”

  “HEY! YOU THERE!”

  Two angry security guards in navy uniforms charged towards them at top speed, like great Doberman Pinschers.

  “STAY WHERE YOU ARE!”

  “Great, like we needed more drama,” said Simon sarcastically. “They don’t look very pleased to see us. Do we shoot them or wait for them to tackle us.”

  “We’ll never make it to Headquarters on time if they catch us,” said Tristan

  “Then we better move ‘cause they’ll be here any second,” said Simon.

  Zoey pointed. “There. Quick! Up the escalators!”

  They raced towards the central escalator, pushing and shoving angry Mutes as they went.

  “Sorry, excuse us! Oops—sorry about the elbow. I didn’t mean to hit you in the eye. Hey, I said I was sorry!”

  As soon as Zoey’s foot hit the first escalator step, she whirled around.

  The two security guards were only twenty feet away from them. And to make matters worse, two more angry looking security guards were running towards the escalator from the opposite direction.

  “They’re right behind us,” Zoey yelled. Tristan and Simon rushed passed her on the stairs.

  “RUN!”

  They dashed up the escalator to the first floor.

  “Now what?” Simon looked around exasperated.

  “Second floor! Hurry!” Tristan ran up the escalator to the second floor with Zoey and Simon right behind him.

  They skidded around the corner at the top of the escalator and sprinted up to the third, and then fourth floor.

  “Stop!” wailed Simon, holding his side when he reached the fourth floor. His face was tomato-red. “My asthma is acting up—can’t breathe—I need my inhaler. I’m going to die!”

  “You don’t have asthma, Simon,” said Tristan, out of breath.

  “I might have.”

  Zoey wiped the sweat from her brow. She peered over the side railing as she tried to catch her breath. The security guards were running up the escalator to the fourth floor.

  “They’re still coming. I’d have thought they would’ve given up by now. They look really mad.”

  Simon shouted at the guards. “You should seriously rethink those uniforms!” He waved at them. “Uniforms-R-US, check it out.”

  Zoey turned around. “We can’t run like this forever. We need a place to rest. We’ll never find Headquarters if we can’t stop for five minutes to think.”

  Tristan pointed to the floor above him. “There! That’s a Sestram mystic. They’re on our side—they work for the agency.”

  Zoey followed Tristan’s gaze and saw a seven-foot tall man-like creature, with large fawn-colored wings sprouting from his back. It had a long, curve
d nose and elongated jaw like a beak. It looked like a cross between a man and an eagle in jeans and a T-shirt. The Sestram looked around calmly on the escalator as it ascended. The Mutes were oblivious to the creature beside them.

  “There’s only one reason a Sestram would be in a department store.”

  Zoey’s eyes widened. “He’s going to Headquarters.”

  “STOP RIGHT THERE!”

  The four security guards had reached the fourth floor. Before they had time to react, they were surrounded.

  “Only the guilty would run,” said one of the guards in a woman’s voice. He had a round face, deep set eyes, and a unibrow. His sweat-drenched uniform stuck to his love handles.

  A dozen or so Mutes had stopped their shopping and came closer to watch.

  Zoey lifted her hands in surrender. “We didn’t do anything. We’re tourists—we were just looking around—that’s all.”

  The man looked skeptical. “Tourists? Well, ya don’t sound English—but I’ve never seen tourists with the likes of ya three. Why do ya have blood all over your arm, eh? Why are you and your friends filthy? Why did ya run?”

  “Why did you chase us?” countered Zoey, meeting his gaze.

  The security guard lowered his eyes, his voice pitching higher with his growing annoyance.

  “This isn’t a place for street kids. I recognize the lot of ya—you’re the lot that’s been stealin’ from the Candy Shop, aren’t ya? But now ya won’t be stealin’ no more. Now we’ve got ya. Fancy a trip to the police station, do ya?”

  “You’ve got nothing on us, Madam,” interrupted Simon.

  “It’s sir,” growled the guard.

  “Whatever you say,” said Simon.

  He stood with his hands on his hips. “But where’s your proof? You can’t arrest us because we’re dirty. I took a shower this morning, you know. And I exfoliated my skin.”

  The security guard ignored him. “You’re all coming with us. Take them.”

  One of the guards grabbed Zoey from behind. Her instincts kicked in, and she spun around and punched her assailant across the jaw as hard as she could. He let go and went stumbling backwards, bleeding generously from the mouth. He came at her again, and she kicked him in his gut. He cried out in pain and collapsed to his knees.

  The plump security guard caught Simon and held him in an armlock.

  “Ow! That hurts! Mommy! I’m going to sue you!”

  The two remaining guards advanced towards Zoey. They were thick and muscled like professional wrestlers. What kind of place was this?

  As she reached out for her boomerang, Tristan came up behind them and hit the guards on the backs of their heads with a large ceramic vase. They crumpled to the floor, out cold.

  “Sorry about that,” he said with a smile. “But it’s not like you gave me another choice.”

  “I’ve always wanted to do that.” Zoey smiled at Tristan and his face lit up. She turned around and glowered at the only remaining guard.

  “Stay back!” he screeched. Spit flew out of his mouth like a rabid animal.

  “Stay back, or I’ll break his arm! I swear I will!”

  “Oh, please don’t break my arm. I like my arm,” Simon’s face was red and sweaty.

  Zoey moved towards the guard angrily. “If you hurt my friend, I’ll kill you. I swear I will.”

  “Stay back!” The security’s eyes widened. He stepped back. “—I’ll break it!”

  “Do something,” cried Simon. “Anything!”

  Zoey clasped her boomerang in her right hand and waited.

  “What is that?” cried the guard, his voice rising hysterically.

  “Is that a weapon? I told you to stay back! I mean it! I will break his arm if you come any closer—”

  SMACK!

  The boomerang hit the guard on the forehead. His eyes rolled back into his head, and he crumpled to the ground.

  “Who’s laughing now, big man?” said Simon to the unconscious guard.

  He turned around and bowed to the crowd of curious Mutes, who weren’t sure if they should applaud or run.

  “Guys!” cried Tristan. “The Sestram—he’s going up to the last floor. We’ll miss the entrance to Headquarters if we don’t hurry.”

  They ran back up the escalators, pushing themselves past shoppers, and a very angry old lady who wacked Simon over the head with her purse. When they reached the top floor, Zoey thought her lungs were going to explode. She could see sport shops on one side, and restaurants on the other. The smell of food brought water to her mouth. All that running had made her hungry.

  She looked around for the mystic and caught a glimpse of him disappearing around the corner of a sports equipment store.

  “There!” They raced past a series of sport boutiques, turned around the corner, and stopped in front of a wall.

  “Where did he go?” The concrete wall was covered in sports posters. In the middle was a single window. Another escalator descended to the lower levels on her right, but there was no one on it. No Sestram.

  “Do you think he mirror-ported?”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” answered Tristan. “No, I think he knew of another way to get in. There’s got to be a doorway somewhere.”

  Simon moved his hands against the walls. “I got it! There’s gotta be a secret entrance. Look for latches or something out of place.”

  They searched every inch of the wall, sticking their fingers in every nook and cranny. Things started to look grim.

  “There’s nothing here,” said Zoey, deflated. “We’ve missed him. He’s gone, and now we don’t know how to get in.”

  “It doesn’t make any sense,” said Tristan, still moving his hands along the wall. “He wouldn’t have come all this way if he could have mirror-ported from somewhere less conspicuous.”

  Simon sat on the floor. “What do we do now? I’m hungry.”

  Zoey stepped back and stared at the wall. She looked along the billboards and finally settled on the window. The window—she frowned and inspected it closer. It looked like a regular window with frosted glass. But something was off. The shadows of the outside almost looked painted on the opaque surface.

  “This is it!” she called. Simon jumped to his feet, and Tristan rushed over.

  Zoey grasped the window’s handle and turned it. When she pushed it open, she could see a long dark hallway.

  “A faux window,” said Simon. “Cool.”

  Zoey stepped back. “Good, no one’s looking. You guys go in first. Hurry.”

  Simon and Tristan quickly squeezed through the opening, and Zoey followed. They landed in the dark hallway on the other side.

  “Why is it so dark?” asked Simon, feeling his way down the hallway. “Is it supposed to be this dark?”

  Zoey shut the window behind her. “I don’t know, but I have a bad feeling about this.”

  Her mystic premonitions prickled her skin like an allergic reaction, telling her to go back. But she couldn’t go back. She had to find Agent Barnes and warn him.

  Tristan pulled out his slingshot and started down the hallway. “There are hostile mystics here—lots of them—I can feel it. Keep your eyes open and be ready for anything.”

  “And the adventure never ends.” Simon wielded his slingshot. “We better get promoted after this. It wasn’t in the academy’s course outline. If we die, I better get an A for effort.”

  “Nobody’s dying, but let’s hope we’re not too late.”

  Zoey drew her boomerang and followed Tristan and Simon cautiously down the dark corridor. It was a dead end. They stopped in the darkness to consider what to do next. Zoey heard a swishing sound, and a giant battle-axe came crashing down towards them.

  Chapter 20

  The Alpha Nation

  “MOVE!” cried Tristan as he pushed Zoey and Simon to the ground, just as a giant axe swung inches above their heads.

  Zoey hit the ground, but something sharp cut her hands as she tried to break her fall. She felt the warm blood seep between
her fingers. She rolled over carefully, but she could still feel something shattering and crunching under her. She got to her feet gingerly and looked around. The floor was littered with broken mirrors.

  She pulled a large shard of glass from her left palm. The cut was deep and blood poured down her arm. The ground wavered as pain and nausea threatened to take her over, but she clamped her hand shut and ignored it. She looked up.

  A ten-foot-tall, gray-skinned humanoid that looked like a cross between a dragon and a man stood in front of her. Its body rippled with muscles, and horns sprouted from the top of its flat head. It swished its thick tail behind it and watched her malevolently with beady black eyes.

  “What is that?”

  Tristan moved to her side. “A Daragon,” he whispered. “—a dragon beast—it’ll kill anything that moves.”

  The look of excitement that began to show in its eyes, and the blood on its axe and its body, was clear evidence that it had murdered before and had enjoyed it.

  “Okay, so let’s not move,” whispered Simon.

  Through the smoldering fires and smoke, Zoey could see that they stood in a great cathedral of a hall. All the light fixtures had been smashed and hung uselessly from their broken brackets. Hundreds of mirrors had obviously lined the great hall once, but every single one was completely smashed, and the floor was carpeted with sharp and deadly glass shards.

  Zoey started to gag on the smell of burnt meat. Feathers dotted the floor to her left, and a pile of scorched feathers and a body lay a few feet away from them in a pool of blood—the Sestram. And then she saw something that made her retch. The burnt remains of three people, their skin crisped and black like coal, lay in a heap near the wall.

  “By the looks of it, it’s been pretty busy,” said Simon. “And it’s destroyed all the mirror-ports, too.” He pointed to the hundreds of broken mirrors that outlined the great hall.

  “That’s why we landed in the store,” he continued. “No one could mirror port into here.”

  Zoey couldn’t tell how long ago the mirrors had been smashed, but she hoped it was after the agency had sent help.