Mystics #1: The Seventh Sense

by Kim Richardson

  Zoey looked around helplessly, “Where?”

  “They’re on the roof. Go back and take the stairs. Go—go now!”

  Zoey wiped the sweat from her face with the back of her hand. She didn’t want Agent Barnes to die. With a final look at him, she ran back towards the stairs and headed for the roof.

  She drew strength from her anger—Agent Stokes was going to pay. She was going to make him pay.

  She pushed open the door at the top of the stairs. The sky was a deep blue, and an orange sun was setting in the west. A cool breeze caressed her hot face. London’s lights glowed like jewels around her. It was beautiful.

  The rooftop was a giant rectangle. The buzz of the air exhaust vents from the building’s air conditioning system masked her footsteps. She hid behind an air conditioning box and peered around it. Her heart skipped a beat.

  A skeletally thin woman in a black, tailored suit stood in the center of the rooftop. She wore a floppy, wide-brimmed, red-feathered hat, like those Zoey had seen on women from the costume shops. The woman’s face was just as distorted and stretched as she remembered it. It was Mrs. Dupont. She held something in her hands and was admiring it lovingly. Was it the interloper?

  A man was with her—the same man that had locked Zoey and her friends in the basement and had killed Mrs. Andrews and the old man.

  Zoey shrank back behind the air conditioning unit. The man was huge and strong, and he had a gun. If she got a little closer, she could hit him in the head with her boomerang. But even if she were lucky enough to get rid of him somehow—there was still the creepy Mrs. Dupont. Zoey suspected she might be a mysterian herself—she looked part mystic—maybe even part Daragon. Was she super powerful like Tristan?

  It all seemed impossible. She hoped Tristan and Simon were having better luck than she was. She held her breath and crept over to the next air conditioning box. Mrs. Dupont and the man hadn’t moved, but she was still too far away for a clear shot. She ducked down and moved closer as silently as she could. She was close enough to hear the murmurs of their voice. She was close enough to take a shot. She gripped her boomerang firmly and aimed.

  But something hit her on the back.

  Zoey fell to her knees and dropped her boomerang.

  Whoever had hit her, hit her again. She felt her ribcage split apart with the force of the blow, and she rolled over on the ground in agonizing pain.

  “So, you’re the one who’s been snooping around,” said an angry voice.

  Blinking through her tears, she looked up.

  Agent Stokes hissed at her. “The Drifter—you tried to ruin my plans before, and you made me look stupid and disloyal in front of my mistress.”

  “You look stupid all by yourself,” spat Zoey.

  He backhanded her across the face, and she tasted blood in her mouth.

  Zoey glared at him, wanting nothing more than to avenge Agent Barnes.

  “Well, you didn’t succeed,” he sneered, “and now I’m going to kill you.”

  Chapter 21

  Interloper

  Zoey screamed as Agent Stokes dragged her across the roof by her hair. Her eyes watered, and the world was a blur. He hurled her to the ground and kicked her in the stomach again.

  “You tried to ruin my plans, you little brat, but you didn’t succeed. How could you? You’re nothing but a foolish little girl with a death sentence.”

  “I’m not a little girl,” growled Zoey—where were Agent Barnes, Tristan, Simon? The pain in her broken ribs was unbearable when she sobbed. She tried to control her breathing.

  “Oh, but you are, and a very stupid one at that. Did you really think that you could come here and stop me? I killed your beloved Agent Barnes, and you’re going to wish you were dead before I’m finished with you. First, I’m going to rip it out your tongue—”

  “Enough!” commanded a woman’s voice.

  Zoey peered up at Mrs. Dupont. She cradled a metal cube in her hands. It had rows of smaller cubes on each face, but instead of colors, like a Rubik’s cube, the little cubes had geometric symbols on their surfaces. The interloper.

  “You’ve had your fun, Sylvester, now let her go.”

  Mrs. Dupont looked down at Zoey. “I need her alive to answer some questions first.”

  “Mrs. Dupont, you don’t understand,” began Agent Stokes. “She’s the one that almost ruined everything! Let me kill her! Please!”

  He pulled out a knife and grabbed Zoey by the hair. He yanked her head back painfully, and she could feel the cool blade sharp against her throat. She held her breath.

  Mrs. Dupont walked casually towards her. “Not yet. I have a few questions that need answering. You can kill her after. I promise. Let her go, Sylvester—don’t make me ask you again.”

  She smiled at Zoey, and her face twisted grotesquely—as though some of the muscles in her face moved, while others did not.

  Agent Stokes released his hold on Zoey’s hair and pushed her to the ground. “You’re dead, Drifter. Dead.”

  But then the man with the gun and the white eye moved closer and glowered at Zoey.

  “I locked you in with the monsters—you should be dead—or better yet, torn to shreds. How did you escape?” he asked.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know,” answered Zoey. She matched his scowl.

  “Thank you, Nazar,” said Mrs. Dupont, and she waved him aside. “I’ll take it from here.”

  Nazar stepped back slowly. His milky white eye was locked on Zoey, and she shuddered involuntarily.

  Mrs. Dupont turned her cat-like eyes to Zoey and examined her more closely.

  “So you’re the Drifter,” she said finally.

  “How remarkable. I’m very impressed. You are exceptionally resourceful for someone so young. Not even an agent has been lucky enough to get as close to me as you stand now—and yet here you are—just a girl. But you’re not just a girl, are you? There is something unique about you—am I right? Yes, of course I am. Tell me, what’s your name?”

  Zoey spit out some blood. “Zoey.”

  “Zoey,” echoed Mrs. Dupont. “You’re a very brave girl, Zoey. You’re the one who eavesdropped on my conversation with Sylvester back in the hall. I remember you well. I never forget a face. Tell me, how did you find us then? Did someone tell you where to find us?”

  Zoey shrugged. “No. I don’t know. Someone pushed me when I was using my DSM, and I just appeared there. I don’t know really know how I did it. I just did.”

  “Very interesting.” Mrs. Dupont looked as though she was trying to frown, but her brow only twitched awkwardly.

  “Tell me, Zoey, what were you thinking—right before you used your precious mirror device?”

  “I don’t know—to get back to the hive?”

  Zoey started to feel uncomfortable under the unnerving stare of Mrs. Dupont’s cat-like eyes. It was almost as though she knew something else—something about her.

  “Is it possible you were thinking about the stolen interloper?” Mrs. Dupont inquired. She sounded excited, and her feline features twisted in a grotesque smile.

  Zoey’s hair rose up on the back of her neck. She remembered. She had thought of the interloper right before Stuart had pushed her. She had wondered if the interloper looked like their DSM’s, if it had mirrors. How did Mrs. Dupont know what she had been thinking?

  “By the look on your face, I gather that you did.” Mrs. Dupont’s face twitched.

  “I’ll tell you what happened, my dear girl. You thought of the interloper, and then you mirror-ported yourself to the anchor that was nearest to it.”

  Zoey tensed. “I don’t understand.”

  “No—you wouldn’t—but I do.”

  The way Mrs. Dupont was staring at Zoey made her very uncomfortable. It was almost like Zoey was a prize that Mrs. Dupont had been waiting for, for a very long time.

  Mrs. Dupont’s eyes shone excitedly. “Tell me Zoey, where are you from? What are your parents’ names?”

  Something clicked
inside her, and Zoey decided to stop playing nice. Nothing good could come of telling her the truth. The more information she gave this woman, the more danger would come to her.

  “Bill and Marge St. John,” she lied, putting on her best poker face.

  Mrs. Dupont and Nazar shared a look, and then she looked back at Zoey. “Really? How interesting.”

  Mrs. Dupont was quiet for a moment, but she looked excited.

  “That red hair you have—it’s almost like it’s on fire, isn’t’ it? It’s very beautiful and very rare. I’ve only seen it once before, a long time ago—on a woman—and her name wasn’t Marge St. John.”

  She focused on Zoey more intently. “You made up those names, didn’t you? Don’t lie to me, girl. Tell me who they are. What’s the harm in knowing someone’s name? You can tell me.”

  Zoey’s insides twisted. What did Mrs. Dupont know about her already—about her past—about her mother?

  “Those are their names,” Zoey lied again. “Mom and dad St. John—I think they’re swell names, don’t you? And why do you care, anyway? What do my parents have to do with any of this?”

  “Plenty,” said Mrs. Dupont. Her voice was sharp, and all the traces of false gentleness were gone.

  “I know you’re lying, I can always tell when someone is lying. You might call it a gift. I can see the lies and fear in your eyes. I see it all. I can even see your desperation to keep your mother safe. But you can’t.”

  Zoey’s heart thumped wildly.

  Suddenly, Mrs. Dupont’s face warped grotesquely in anger. She reached out and wrenched Zoey’s right arm painfully.

  “Where is your mother? Where is Elizabeth?” she roared. Her spit flew in Zoey’s face.

  Zoey cried out, “I don’t know who you’re talking about? I don’t know anyone called Elizabeth. I swear.”

  “LIAR!” Mrs. Dupont twisted Zoey’s arm so forcefully that Zoey heard a horrible snap.

  Zoey sunk to the ground, her head spinning from the searing pain. She blinked the black spots and tears from her eyes. Her arm lay limp by her side, and panic rose like a cold mist in her mind. She shuddered. She tried to stand, but just moving her leg made her cry out. She was too weak to fight back.

  She knew that after Mrs. Dupont had gotten the information she wanted, they would kill her. That she knew for certain.

  She inhaled shaky breaths and tried to calm herself. They could kill her, but they couldn’t harm her mother if they didn’t know where she was—she took comfort in that.

  Mrs. Dupont leaned over Zoey. Her face was flushed and clammy, like a store mannequin whose face had melted from the heat of overhead lights.

  “Fortunately for you,” she said, spraying Zoey’s face with more disgusting, warm spit, “I don’t have time for this now. But rest assured, I will deal with you later. I will get some answers out of you—even if I have to cut your pretty little fingers off one by one—you will tell me where she’s hiding eventually. I can promise you that.”

  Zoey cradled her injured arm. “And I promise I won’t tell you anything.”

  Zoey could see the interloper clearly now. She was so close that she could reach out and touch it.

  Mrs. Dupont caught her looking at the interloper, and a smile contorted her face again.

  “You’d like this, wouldn’t you?”

  Zoey didn’t answer, so Mrs. Dupont continued.

  “Do you know what this is?”

  She held the interloper for Zoey to see.

  “This is the interloper you’ve been thinking about— the answer—the way to restore the balance between the worlds to what it was in the time of the Originals. The world of beasts and monsters shouldn’t mix with ours. It dishonors the Originals. We are the superior race, and we should rule the beasts, not coexist with them.”

  “The balance is shifting in the Nexus, Zoey. A powerful demon warlord is poised to invade our dimension with his savage army. He is at war in his own world and angry that the agents drove him out from this world centuries ago. So, we made a deal. We’ll open the portal to our world to let his army in—and he’ll get rid of the agency for us. He will come with a vengeance, and every last agent will die. Then the Alpha Nation, the true followers of the Originals, will rise and rule this world.”

  “It won’t work,” said Zoey, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in her arm. “They’ll stop you.”

  Even though her throwing arm was broken, Zoey wished she still had her boomerang.

  Mrs. Dupont laughed.

  “Who? Who will stop me, my dear girl—the agency? Ha! Look around you, Zoey—the agency has fallen. The mystics you love so much will destroy the rest of you tonight. There is no one here to help you. The Alphas killed them all. You’re all that’s left.”

  Zoey remembered the bodies she had seen in the auditorium, and she felt sick. She knew that whatever Mrs. Dupont was planning was going to be a million times worse. Hot rage boiled inside her. The cat-face woman had to be stopped. But how?

  “Sylvester,” said Mrs. Dupont, “Give me the other interloper. It’s time.”

  She held out her hand, and Agent Stokes pulled the other interloper from the folds of his jacket. Much to his disappointment, she gave it to Nazar.

  “Why does he get to use it?” said Agent Stokes, outraged. “I’m the one who took it from Agent Barnes. I’m the one who went through all the trouble to get it! I’m the one who got you the codes to break into the agency’s headquarters. I nearly got caught! He didn’t do anything!”

  Nazar caressed the interloper. “Stop your winning, Sylvester.”

  He gave Agent Stokes a self-satisfying grin. “Did you really think Mrs. Dupont would let you work it? You—a common, good for nothing agent—a man as incompetent as a monkey? I think not.”

  “But…” Agent Stokes was lost for words. “—I don’t understand. I let you in to the Boston hive. I was the one who got you past security. I risked my neck getting those codes!”

  “And we thank you for all your help, Agent.” Something gray flashed from the folds of Nazar’s coat, and in an instant he stabbed Agent Stokes in the chest. Agent Stokes opened his mouth, choking on his blood, and then slumped to the ground.

  Nazar smiled wickedly at the horror on Zoey’s face. She bit her tongue and said nothing.

  “Let us begin,” said Mrs. Dupont.

  She guided Nazar to the edge of the roof. They stood side by side like a bride and groom holding the metal cubes like flower bouquets.

  Mrs. Dupont turned towards Zoey. Her cat-like features were amplified disturbingly in the growing darkness. “It’s not every day you get to witness a portal this size. You are a very lucky girl, Zoey St. John.”

  “I don’t feel very lucky,” answered Zoey shortly. Her arm throbbed painfully.

  Mrs. Dupont laughed. “Oh, but you are lucky—very lucky—lucky that I’ve finally found you.”

  “What? What is that supposed to mean? We’ve never even met before?” Zoey hated the triumphant look in her crazy cat’s eyes. What was it that she knew?

  Mrs. Dupont smiled at Zoey’s distress.

  “I’ve been searching for you for fourteen years. Elizabeth thought she could hide you from me, but she was wrong—and now I’ve found you.”

  The puzzle of Zoey’s life started to make sense. Her mother hadn’t abandoned her—she had hidden her away in the orphanage to save her from this woman and the Alpha Nation. But why was she so important—what did Mrs. Dupont want with her? And if Elizabeth Steele was her mother, then who was her father?

  Mrs. Dupont nodded to Nazar, and together they pressed down on the interlopers with their thumbs. The cubes began to glow with a brilliant white light.

  Zoey had to act now. She looked around the roof for something to help her. She could see Caution High Voltage written in bold, red letters on a large metal panel that was fastened to the side of the air conditioning unit on the opposite side of the roof. It gave her an idea.

  Movement caught her eye. Trista
n and Simon dodged behind the other air conditioners. They were alive. Simon held her golden boomerang in his hand. She made sure Mrs. Dupont and Nazar hadn’t seen them, pressed her finger to her lips, and motioned for them to come closer.

  They made it to the air conditioning unit closest to her. She met Tristan’s eyes for a second, and ignoring the weird feeling she felt in her chest, she pointed to their slingshots, and to Mrs. Dupont and Nazar. Then she pointed to the panel with the high voltage sign. She sucked at charades. She hoped they understood.

  They both nodded—thank God.

  Tristan and Simon aimed their slingshots, but the roof trembled, and they lost their balance for a moment.

  A shadow passed above them. Zoey looked up.

  Thunder boomed and lightening turned the sky into daylight. Zoey thought her eyes were playing tricks on her—a black line appeared in the sky above them. The line got bigger and bigger, until it was like a second black horizon line across the London sky. She watched in horror. The line widened, like a giant movie screen unfurling, until it became a giant, black rectangle.

  And then she saw something that made her blood freeze.

  Inside the rectangle was another world, a red world of wind and rain and fire. An otherworldly landscape of vast deserts spread out for miles inside the rectangle. She could see giant volcanic mountains billowing brilliant red smoke over a blanched plain. Black ash rained down, and plumes of smoke and steam rose from the burning ground.

  And then she saw tens of thousands of evil looking mystics charging through the smoke towards the mouth of the portal.

  It was a savage army of giants with three heads, mutated humanoids with animal limbs, and decomposed human-like undead running with their rotting limbs falling behind them. Creatures like mummified corpses ran towards her with their skin hanging in loose folds from their bodies. An immense translucent worm with two ominously long tentacles slithered to the mouth of the portal beside hundreds of monstrous spiders with small, humanlike arms below their mandibles. Creatures that resembled gigantic, floating eyeballs shot out towards her followed by skeletal humanoids clad in metal armor riding on huge flies.