Tristan handed over his DSM calmly, with a strange smile on his face.
“Hey! Stop that! That’s mine!” screamed Simon as one of the leprechauns searched him and removed his DSM. “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?”
The leprechaun bared a mouth full of metal teeth, and Simon jumped behind Tristan. “Well that rules out a quick escape,” said Simon miserably. “What’s your master plan now, Zoey?”
Zoey shrugged. “I don’t have one.”
She watched the leader pocket their DSM’s inside his coat.
“We better come up with something fast,” whispered Tristan.
Zoey looked at him. She didn’t have any kind of plan. She’d been impulsive, and in her foolishness she’d endangered the lives of her friends. They were trapped—and it was her fault.
“You should have never come here, little sheeplings,” said the leprechaun leader.
“Why’s that?” said Zoey, feeling more and more anxious.
The leprechaun leader measured her for a moment, his expression unsympathetic.
“You’ll soon find out.” He snickered and snapped his fingers. “Take them away.”
Chapter 14
Gangsters and Leprechauns
Although they kicked, screamed, and punched, Zoey and her friends were no match for the leprechaun gang. They tied Zoey’s hands and feet and draped her over the back seat of one of the motorcycles as if she were a sack of potatoes. The motorcycle swayed and bounced as they traveled, and she feared she was going to be sick. Her head hung over the edge of the seat so that her face was inches from the back wheel, and it sprayed sand and debris on her face and into her mouth. Coughing and spitting, she looked for Tristan and Simon, but she could only see big black wheels. She prayed they were okay.
She forced her sickness down and cursed herself for being so foolish. This was her mess, and she alone should be stuck in it, not Tristan and Simon. It was humiliating enough to have been defeated by a gang of tattooed leprechauns—the thought of something bad happening to Tristan made her insides twist even more. She struggled against her bonds—she needed a plan.
Suddenly the back end of the motorcycle started to jerk up and down, and Zoey saw that they were going up a large staircase. They passed through a large open archway. The bike straightened, and they raced across gleaming marble floors.
The motorbike fishtailed to a stop, and Zoey flew off the bike. She skidded on the hard marble floors and burned the skin on the side of her face. She leaned on her elbows and looked around.
They were in some sort of massive hotel ballroom. Marble columns rose on either side, and light spilled through beautiful stained glass windows. A majestic, golden throne in the shape of a tall hat sat on a dais at the other end of the chamber. And on either side of the dais were mountains of treasure.
Piles of gold and silver coins, diamond rings, necklaces, jeweled tiaras, diamond watches, gold candlesticks, and even human-sized golden statues with rubies for eyes twinkled from every corner of the large chamber. And in the midst of the gleaming treasures were flat screen televisions, laptops, cell phones, and tons of electronic devices that Zoey had never seen before.
It was a robbers’ storage unit, cluttered with their stolen prizes. An entire wall was stacked to the ceiling with money that teetered dangerously. A leprechaun in a baseball cap sat at the base of the wall of money and stuffed dollar bills into an electric cash counting machine, like the ones she had seen in gangster movies.
Zoey had never seen so much richness in all of her life. It was like the treasure of Smaug, the dragon from The Hobbit.
But there was something else besides treasure inside the chamber. A cast-iron cage, the size of a garage, sat in the middle of the space. What the heck was it doing there? Maroon stains speckled the floor beneath it, and some of the bars had been scratched and bent as though something or someone had tried desperately to get out. Zoey’s blood turned to ice. She hoped they weren’t going to find out.
Tires screeched, and Tristan and Simon crashed onto the floor next to her.
Tristan rolled over to Zoey, his eyes wide. “You okay? Are you hurt? Did they hurt you?”
Zoey sat up painfully.
“No,” she lied, “just my pride. This really sucks—I’m sorry I dragged you guys into this.”
Tristan gave her a small smile. “Nah, I love a good adventure. Besides, we’re going to get out of here, I promise.”
“When we do, remind me to never get a motorbike,” grumbled Simon. He had a nasty bruise on the side of his left temple. “I’ll never look at a scooter the same way again.”
Tristan whistled. “Wow, look at all the gold and diamonds—there must be millions of dollars’ worth of stuff in here.”
“More like billions,” grumbled Simon.
Zoey looked around. “They look like thieves. Something tells me that they didn’t work for any of it. What do you think they’re going to do to us?”
“I don’t know,” said Tristan, “If we could get our DSM’s back, we could probably make it out of here in one piece.”
“Is that—is that a bird cage?” said Simon looking worried.
But before they could find out, the rest of the leprechauns and their bikes exploded into the chamber with a thunderous roar. They killed their engines, and the leprechaun leader leapt off his bike and made his way towards the dais. He sat in the golden throne.
“Put them in the cage,” he said.
Six large leprechauns with punk hairstyles pulled out large blades and strolled towards Zoey.
“We’re not poultry,” said Simon pretending to look offended.
“We—” he motioned to himself and the others with his head, and then spoke very slowly, “are tee—na—gers. And teenagers don’t belong in cages—unless you’re planning on eating us? You’re not planning on eating us, right? Besides, aren’t you like supposed to slide down rainbows or something?”
“In the cage,” said a bald and tattooed leprechaun to Simon.
“Don’t make me say it again,” he snarled through blackened teeth. He poked the tip of his blade into Simon’s neck, “or I’ll skin you alive, and then feed you to my pets in the swamp.”
“Pets?” said Simon. “Those things back there in the swamps are your pets? Are you serious?”
“In the cage!” yelled the leprechaun.
“Okay, I’m going.” Simon lifted his shackled hands in surrender and walked into the cage.
Tristan eyed Zoey with concern—she wasn’t moving.
Zoey stared at the cage. It looked like death to her. She couldn’t move.
The bald leprechaun held his blade to her eye. “In, or I’ll blind you, Red.”
“NO!” Zoey stepped back and kicked the leprechaun with a satisfying crunch.
But then she was hit from behind by something hard. White light exploded in her vision. She was dragged across the floor and thrown inside the cage. She heard the loud bang as the cage’s door closed, and then the tick of a lock.
“Zoey, are you okay?” Tristan kneeled beside her and cradled her hand.
Zoey blinked and looked up. “I think so.”
With some effort she grabbed the iron bars and pulled herself up. “I guess this is what it feels like to be in jail.”
“Jail?” laughed the leprechaun leader.
He leaned forward in his chair and smiled maliciously. “No, no, no, my little sheeplings—this is much worse than jail. This is The Cage—and you three are on trial.”
Zoey, Simon, and Tristan looked at each other in shocked silence.
On trial, thought Zoey. What the heck is this place?
But then something occurred to her—if this was indeed a trial, then they could argue their case. There was still a chance they could get out of here. She only hoped it didn’t ruin their chances to find her mother.
Two grumpy-looking leprechauns stood on either side of their seated leader. She recognized one as the guy she had kicked. He didn’t appe
ar to be in pain at all, and she wished she had kicked him harder.
The leprechaun leader raised his arms.
“I think it’s time for some introductions. I am Rusty McFearsome,” said the leprechaun proudly, “the ruler of Troll City, and leader of this magnificent gang.”
“Magnificent, my eye,” whispered Simon. “More like magnificent moron.”
Rusty pointed to his right. “This is my first in command, Warty O’Wicked.”
The entire leprechaun gang clapped and stomped their boots in a loud cheer. Warty was the bald leprechaun that Zoey had kicked. He was almost as tall as Rusty, but much more muscular. He had scars on his face and arms, which were still visible under his tattoos. He wore leather pants and a leather vest that showed off his build. He flexed his muscles smugly. He was pompous and had the look of a serial killer.
“And to my left,” continued Rusty, “is my second in command, Crusher O’Looney.”
Crusher smiled and revealed teeth that were capped in gold. He squared his shoulders at his round of applause. He held a large club in his hand, and Zoey figured that’s how he got his name. He sported a green Mohawk and wore leather overalls. His body was covered in tattoos, and his eyebrows, nose, cheeks, and lips were pierced.
“Did they pick their names out of a Cracker Jack box?” whispered Simon.
“Now,” said Rusty as he leaned back against his chair, “tell me who you are—and what you’re doing in my city.”
Tristan opened his mouth about to speak, but Zoey cut him off.
“I’m Zoey,” she said and then pointed to the others. “These are my friends, Tristan and Simon.” She stood at the edge of the bars and looked up to the dais. “This has nothing to do with them. This was my idea—me alone. I came here to look for someone.”
“Yes, your mother.” Rusty slapped his thigh, and all the leprechauns laughed like this was the best joke they’d ever heard. A few fell over from laughing so hard, and some even cried.
Zoey shut her mouth before she said something rude. Clearly, they were not taking her seriously—she hated it when that happened.
“Humans are not allowed in Troll City,” continued Rusty. “According to the treaty,” he snapped his fingers, and Warty O’Wicked fetched a scroll from behind the chair. He handed it to Rusty who untied it, and the scroll unrolled all the way to the floor.
Rusty cleared his throat.
“Article number one dash fifteen,” he read. “We members of the agency and of the mystic council, hereby acknowledge Troll City as a sanctuary for all mystics, and hereby forbid any humans from entering. Bla, bla, bla—the rest is unimportant.”
He rolled up the scroll and handed it back to Warty.
“So you see, my little sheeplings, we haven’t had the pleasure of a human visit in decades—and that visit only lasted for twelve minutes before we cut him up in tiny pieces and fed him to our pets. The penalty of trespassing is death—we’re going to skin you alive.”
“Does it say that in your treaty? To kill trespassers?” said Zoey.
She tried to sound authoritative and raised her voice. “I didn’t hear you read that part? I doubt the agency would allow something like that. I think you made it up. I think you’re lying.”
“Shh, Zoey,” hissed Simon, “are you mad? You want us to get killed or what?”
Zoey clenched her jaw and looked at Simon. “This is supposed to be a trial. They need evidence against us, right? Where does it say they have the right to imprison us and kill us?”
“She’s right,” interjected Tristan, looking grave. “They’re lying.”
Rusty smiled wickedly. “Well, I guess you’ll never find out now, will you.”
He raised his voice. “Off with their heads!” he called out dramatically. The leprechauns cheered.
“Wait!” cried Zoey. “What about our trial? You said we were on trial—that means we must be allowed to present our case.”
Rusty raised his eyebrows. “You don’t have a case. You’re trespassers. And I rule to have you killed—it’s that simple.”
He paused for a moment and scratched his chin. “Unless you can come up with payment, then I might reconsider your release.”
“What kind of payment?” Zoey feared she already knew the answer.
Rusty smiled and his golden eyes sparkled with greed. “Money or jewelry? Do you have anything of worth?” He leaned forward, inspecting them through the bars.
Zoey huddled with the others. “I don’t have anything that’s worth anything. I’m freaking poor, remember—I’m a stray orphan.”
Tristan and Simon pulled out their wallets. Together they had a total of twenty-five dollars and fifty-five cents. Zoey’s heart sunk. It wouldn’t be enough.
She took the money and stuck her hand out of the bars. “Here, that’s all we have. Do we have a deal?”
Crusher stepped down and took the money from Zoey. Without counting it, he handed it to Rusty who took it eagerly and began to count it. He frowned.
“Twenty-five dollars and fifty-five cents? That’s it? That’s all you can come up with? Three classy looking kids, and that’s all you’ve got?”
Zoey looked down. “I’ve never thought of myself as classy, but if we had known, we could have brought more, I promise—”
Rusty brushed her off with his hand. “Kill them.”
“Wait! But you said if we paid you you’d let us go!”
The leprechaun leader grinned. “I lied. Cut them up and feed them to the Grohemoths —”
“You can’t do this!” Zoey started to panic.
“We didn’t mean any harm. Please—we only came here to look for a woman named Elizabeth.”
Rusty leaned forward in his chair, and his face paled. “What did you say?”
Zoey looked at the others and then said, “I said we didn’t mean any harm—”
“No—the other part,” urged Rusty. He sounded desperate. “The part where you said a name—what was the name you said?”
Zoey paused for a moment, and then said with a shrug. “I said Elizabeth.”
Rusty’s eyes widened. He shared a sidelong glance with Warty and then whispered something that she couldn’t hear.
Rusty spoke again. “And how do you know this, Elizabeth? Who sent you?”
He scowled, and his face suddenly began to twist in rage.
“No one sent me,” said Zoey as calmly as she could. “I disobeyed the agency to come here to look for a woman named Elizabeth. I think she’s my mother.”
Zoey continued, “You see—I don’t know who my parents are because I’m an orphan. But a dying man told me that I looked like a woman he knew—that we had the same hair. He told me to look for her in Troll City. I only came here to look for her—to talk to her—that’s all.”
“She does have the same hair as Elizabeth,” said Crusher, “and she looks like her, too.”
“Shut up!” roared Rusty.
He jumped off his throne and walked over to the cage.
He eyed Zoey suspiciously. “Hmmm. You do look like her—a lot like her.”
Zoey’s eyes widened. “You know her? Is she here? Please—I need to see her. Can I see her?”
A wave of sadness passed in Rusty’s eyes. “She’s not here. Not anymore.”
“What? What do you mean?” Zoey felt empty.
Rusty looked away from Zoey and unlocked the cage. He opened the door.
“You should leave.”
Tristan and Simon followed Zoey out of the cage.
Zoey looked down at Rusty. “Please, if you know anything, I’ve been searching all my life for my parents.”
When Rusty looked up at her, tears brimmed his eyes. He wiped his large nose on the back of his hand. “She was sent to us as a prisoner. We were paid to keep her and to torture her.”
“You tortured her!” Zoey’s voice cracked. Blood rushed to her face. If her hands had not been bound she would have punched him.
Rusty shook his head. “No, of cours
e not. I loved her…we all did. She was our Elizabeth.”
Suddenly, the entire leprechaun gang started to cry like little girls. They howled loudly and wept. And then they all hugged each other, as though they had lost someone dear to them. It was touching to watch, but ugly at the same time.
Zoey turned away from the crying leprechauns. “You said she wasn’t here anymore—so what happened to her?”
Rusty dabbed his tears with a green handkerchief. “We were instructed to imprison her for life, but we couldn’t—we just couldn’t—not our sweet, loving, dear, Elizabeth. She stayed here for about ten years, and then we let her go.”
Rusty’s bottom lip quivered, and he burst into tears again.
Zoey’s anger for the leprechauns had melted away and for a moment she wondered if she should comfort Rusty, but then he did imprisoner her and her friends and threatened to kill them. But something didn’t make sense.
“Who paid you to keep her a prisoner?” she said. “Why was she a prisoner at all?”
Rusty’s crying had become so hysterical that he choked on his sobs and could not answer.
Warty answered for him.
“The Alphas,” he said, with a touch of anger in his voice. “And they paid us a heavy sum to keep it secret, too. They didn’t want anyone to know she was here.”
Warty padded his boss’s shoulders tenderly. “But we were good to our Elizabeth, boss, weren’t we?”
“I’m lost—what are the Alphas?” asked Zoey.
It was Tristan’s turn to speak. “The Alpha Nation is a group of Sevenths who objected to living with mystics. They hate everything to do with human and mystics. Alphas have been around like for a very long time. They believe that mystics should be returned to the Nexus—or destroyed permanently.”
“He’s right,” agreed Simon. “The Alphas don’t believe in treaties. They’re completely crazy. But it doesn’t make any sense that they would send a Seventh to be imprisoned here.”
“They never told us anything,” said Rusty and he blew his nose loudly. “They just paid us to be quiet. They figured no one would ever come here to look for her. They were right—until now.”
Mystics 3-Book Collection Page 16
