A craft came whipping towards Zoey and Tristan. It hovered above them, and then the passenger’s window rolled down.
“Dudes, I knew this would work!” beamed Simon.
Zoey scowled. “If I weren’t so happy to see you, Simon, I could kill you.”
Then she smiled. “So that’s where you disappeared to. Awesome idea, just saying.”
Simon looked smug. “I know. I’m as awesome as they get. Why are you sitting on a horse?”
A grayish humanoid creature with yellow eyes leaned forward from the driver’s seat. “You guys need a ride?”
“Ah, no, thanks. But thank you, Kirk,” said Zoey. “Thank you for helping us.”
“We only do battle when we have no choice,” said Kirk.
Zoey and Tristan shared a look but said nothing.
Kirk reached down and handed them two black t-shirts. “Gotta have a T-shirt. Simon’s wearing his.”
Simon grinned and pointed to his black UFO T-shirt. “Thought it’d help with the whole flying saucer theme—”
The ground shook. One of the spacecraft crashed into the snow behind them in an explosion of snow, smoke, and fire. The Alphas cheered and then attacked the pilot. Zoey recognized his gray skin and potbelly. She could see his green T-shirt as he ducked and managed to run away.
“There goes Scotty,” said Kirk.
Just as Zoey was about to comment, another explosion shook the ground, and a second craft lay smoking in the snow.
“Oh dear,” said Kirk as he watched the driver scramble out of the cab and run for cover.
Zoey’s heart sunk. Their chance of winning the battle lay in a crumpled mess in the snow. Kirk’s mystic cab was no match for the Alphas.
She looked around. The few remaining agents and mystics had defeat written all over their faces. They had already accepted their fate. Mrs. Dupont had won. She was going to execute all of them…
Mrs. Dupont clapped her hands, her eyes wide. She raised her voice. “Thought you could defeat us with these miserable flying machines?” she laughed, “It’s over. You’re finished. And I’m going to take great pleasure in watching you die. Kill them all. Death to them all—”
But her triumphant smile quickly faded into an ugly sneer when hundreds of agents and mystics shouting battle cries charged out of the front entrance to the Hive.
From where she stood, Zoey could see the shimmer of the mirrors in the main hall as agents and mystics poured out of them. The mirror-ports shone as their green lights flicked on. Agent Franken stood with his hands on his hips and a self-satisfied smile on his face. The antidote had worked.
Zoey stood back and watched.
Within minutes, the remaining Alphas had been captured and shackled. The bloodied and exhausted agents and mystics cheered and cried as they embraced and thanked their comrades for coming to their aid.
Zoey dismounted Firefax and looked around. In all the cheers and triumph, something was missing. Something was off. She ran towards the Alpha prisoners.
“Where’s Mrs. Dupont and Nazar?” she called to Director Hicks. “Please, tell me you caught them?”
Director Hicks hesitated for a moment and then searched the area with a perplexed expression as if he’d forgotten something important.
And then, as if in answer to her question, an engine roared into life, and a single helicopter rose into the air. Mrs. Dupont glared down at Zoey from the window. Before any of them could react, the helicopter grew smaller and smaller and disappeared like an inky star into the black night sky.
Chapter 21
A Special Celebration
On the day following the attacks, Zoey was called to a special meeting with Management. She was debriefed for ten hours straight. Although she kept the part about her mother a secret, she retold her story and explained her special abilities to them. Agent Franken was kind enough to stand up for her and had validated her claims. When she told them that Mrs. Dupont had used her to open the Great Junction, Director Hicks’ eyes widened.
“Are you sure those were the words she used? The Great Junction?”
Directors Martin and Campbell scowled at Zoey, but she ignored them.
“I am sure,” she said, her voice steady and clear, “I saw it with my own eyes. It’s like a big blue hole in the forest. I could see another world right through it, too. It was like I was just staring through a glass window.” She leaned forward in her chair. “So does that mean you’ve heard of the Great Junction before?”
“Impossible!” protested Director Martin. He stood up. “The Great Junction is just a myth! It doesn’t exist. Two worlds cannot be connected by a permanent doorway. It would be like poking a hole into a bag full of water - we would all die — the worlds would die! Portals open, and then they close, that’s why they’re called doorways. The Originals thought they could create this Great Junction, but we have no idea why they wanted to do it in the first place. Even they didn’t have the power or the skill. It cannot be done. This girl is full of lies!”
“SILENCE!” Director Hicks smashed his fist against the table.
Director Martin lowered himself very slowly into his chair, his face as red as Director Hicks’.
Zoey sunk back into her chair.
“May the blood of our ancestors protect us,” he added in a low voice. He fell silent for a moment and leaned back into his chair. “I believe you, Zoey. And after we’ve witnessed what this Mrs. Dupont can do firsthand, I will never underestimate her again. And I will never undervalue you again either, Zoey.”
Zoey pressed her lips together to keep herself from smiling.
Director Hicks wiped his forehead with a tan handkerchief and then turned to Directors Campbell and Johnson.
“We will need to call an emergency council meeting at once. It is a matter of the utmost importance. We must understand what this all means. Please make the necessary arrangements once the meeting is over.”
“Yes, Director,” said Director Campbell, and then she turned and looked at Zoey suspiciously.
Director Johnson nodded his head. “If what Zoey says is true, then we are all in danger. I fear this is just the beginning of much, much worse.”
“Please, Directors, listen to yourselves!” said Director Martin. His voice rose. “You cannot be serious! Listen to what you are saying! The Great Junction isn’t real! It’s just a tale from the old books, it’s just a made-up story.”
“Quiet down!” Director Hicks glowered. “I’ve heard your counsel, Director Martin, and suffice to say, you have failed to meet my expectations.”
Director Martin’s expression darkened, but he said nothing.
“I will not make the same mistake again,” continued Director Hicks. “We owe our people, our Agencies, more than that.” He lifted his eyes and looked at Zoey. “Good judgment comes from experience. Unfortunately, experience usually comes from bad judgment,” he said and then fell silent.
The room was still. Zoey’s heart pounded in her ears. She waited until she couldn’t bear the silence anymore and then said, “So…what happens now? How do we close it?”
“I’m not sure,” said Director Hicks, “and that is the truth. We’ll know more once we speak to the Council of Directors.”
Zoey looked at Director Martin. He was staring daggers at her.
She averted her eyes and said, “I want to help. I want to help stop Mrs. Dupont. Part of this is my fault, so I want to fix it if I can.”
Director Hicks smiled kindly at her. “I know you do. But remember this, Zoey, downfalls usually come from within.”
Zoey nodded, even though she had no idea what the director meant.
“You can go now, Zoey,” said Director Hicks. “You’ve given us lots to think about.”
As Zoey made her way towards the door, she could feel Director Martin’s eyes boring into the back of her head. She smiled, but she didn’t turn around.
It took an entire month for the students and agents to rebuild the Hive.
Agent
Vargas had called it, “a great educational experience,” and “a good workout.”
“Working the body is good for the soul,” he had said. And also, “learning what lies behind the walls of the Hive is an asset for every agent.”
Zoey didn’t mind the work; in fact, she rather enjoyed it.
She learned how to set a marble tile down and use a wet saw. She even learned basic plumbing and electricity. It was just like being in one of the home improvement shows she loved to watch on TV. Every morning she’d wake up with bruises and muscle pain in places she didn’t even know she had muscles.
Agent Franken had successfully produced an antidote that had eliminated the black oil from every mirror-port around the world. It had made him an instant star and given him attention that he clearly did not want. He had been hiding back in his chamber ever since.
The Agencies around the world were slowly rebuilding themselves, one brick at a time. The Agencies’ borders were back up, and life was nearly back to normal.
Zoey finally painted the last trim. She tossed her paintbrush in an empty bucket of paint and stood back to admire her work. The trim on the windows of room 2C, Creature Control gleamed with a shiny white gloss. Perfect. With her job done, she dropped off her paint supplies to one of the caretakers and hurried over to the Wander Inn.
After a quick shower, she dressed in blue jeans, white cami, and black hoody. Once she had laced up her favorite Converse sneakers, she clasped her boomerang onto its gold bracelet and admired it for half a second before she pulled her sleeve back down. She couldn’t risk drawing attention to herself, not tonight. Tonight was special. Tonight she was going to make a real difference.
When she was done, she ran out of her bedroom door and rushed down the stairs.
It was Friday evening, and rumors of a great ceremony were circulating. They were going to celebrate those who had helped to protect the Hive - they were going to celebrate Zoey and her friends.
Zoey bounded towards the front door, but before she could go outside Aria intercepted her.
“Coat, please.”
Zoey halted and turned. Aria stood in the dining room in a yellow polka-dot apron that read, Supreme chef. Mess with me—and I’ll cook you!
She raised her eyebrows. “I know everyone’s anxious for spring, but it’s still freezing cold. I don’t want you to catch pneumonia. Please put on your coat.”
Zoey rolled her eyes, but she knew better than to argue with Aria - she did have four hands. Besides, she’d just take it off once she was inside the Hive. She yanked her coat from the hook and threw it over her shoulders.
“Why aren’t you dressed yet?” asked Zoey as she pulled her arms through the sleeves of her new woolen coat. “Aren’t you coming to the ceremony? You can’t miss this. Simon said that it’s the first big ceremony in ten years!”
“Yes, yes, I’ll be there,” laughed Aria. “I’m just finishing up here. You’d better go before you explode all over my clean floor. I’ll see you later.”
Zoey’s face lit up. “Bye!”
She closed the front door behind her and galloped across the grounds. Golden lights shone from the windows of the Hive, and she could hear the constant drum of music. She quickened her pace and tried not to slip on the snow with her sneakers.
She reached the front doors and pulled them open.
It was even better than she had hoped.
The entire main hall was decorated for a large banquet. Music boomed, and streamers and lights illuminated the ceiling like stars in the night sky. Every mirror was adorned with sparkling stars and balloons. Small round tables on either side of the reception area were draped in silky white linens and covered with food, drinks, and desserts. It was like stepping into a fairytale ball.
Zoey sauntered slowly into the hall, trying not to miss anything. What she had first thought were lights were in fact tiny flying mystics that looked like dragonflies with dazzling colors and extra-large wings. They were spraying pixie-like dust onto the heads below. They smiled and waved at the guests, totally opposite to the ugly fairies she had sprayed and bagged.
Guests were still flooding in, stepping through the mirror-ports in their best suits and dresses. Agent Ward was laughing with Director Johnson, whose face was flushed from several glasses of wine.
But the most incredible sight was the band. Across from Zoey at the other end of the main hall, above a platform, were the strangest band members she’d ever seen. A plump, pink-skinned mystic, with elephant-like ears and a trunk, played fiercely on a keyboard. A short white-colored mystic with the head of a fish and wearing a straw skirt blew a saxophone, and a spindly-legged mystic that looked like a human-grasshopper sang his heart out. Mystics and Sevenths danced together.
Zoey beamed, in spite of herself. It was like the attacks on the Agencies had never even happened.
She strolled down the main hall, admiring how different it looked, how perfectly happy everyone was. The evening was a success.
“Zoey!”
Zoey turned around. Simon and Tristan made their way through the crowd, and Tristan handed her a glass of pink liquid.
“Punch,” he said and then he made a face. “I’ve had better, and I’ve had worse. We’re not allowed to drink the other stuff.”
Zoey took a sip and cringed. “Just a bit too sweet for me, but it’s not bad.”
She gulped down the rest of the drink and smacked her lips. She looked at Tristan. “Are you ready for this?”
Tristan had a strange look in his eye, like his attention was somewhere far away. “I am.”
“Me too,” said Simon, and he looked over Zoey’s shoulder. “Look who decided to show his ugly face.”
Stuart King stood with his back against the wall, and his arms wrapped around his chest. His usual cronies were next to him, and three beautiful girls were batting their eyes, trying desperately to get his attention. But his attention lay elsewhere. His ice-cold stare was as sharp as always, and he focused it intently on Zoey.
Zoey waved at Stuart and gave him her best smile. He grimaced and looked away. The girls moved in on him at once, and he disappeared in a mob of giggling teenage girls.
“What’s his problem?” laughed Zoey. “Guess he’s still mad at me about the leprechaun incident.”
Simon shook his head. “That’s not it. Look.”
Two large agents moved along the main hall, staying close to the edge and out of sight. Between them was Claudia Walsh. Her head hung low on her chest, but Zoey could see the red in her eyes and the tears on her cheeks. She looked like she’d been crying all night. They moved forward in silence and then halted in front of one of the mirror-ports.
“Guys? Why does Claudia need escorts to use the mirror-ports?” A bad feeling formed in the pit of Zoey’s stomach.
“Because she’s the one who poisoned the mirrors,” said Simon, gravely.
Zoey’s tongue was thick in her mouth. “What? Are you serious?”
“Very.” Simon turned to his friends and lowered his voice.
“Apparently, Mrs. Dupont made her an offer she couldn’t refuse.”
“What offer?” asked Tristan.
“She offered her Zoey.”
Zoey was speechless. She watched as Claudia stood with her head down, not wanting to meet anyone’s eyes. Even though she had never liked Claudia, Zoey felt sorry for her.
“There’s has to be more to the story,” said Zoey. “Tristan, did you know about this?”
Tristan shook his head. “No idea.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked extremely uncomfortable.
Zoey turned to Simon. “Tell me what you know.”
“Well, from the conversation between Directors Johnson and Hicks that I was eavesdropping on earlier—yes, I have many talents—Mrs. Dupont and Claudia had been chatting online for a while. They became friends, and Claudia told her practically everything she wanted to hear. Then one day they met, and Mrs. Dupont told her that if she poured the black oil into the main m
irror-port source—the big mirror in Agent Franken’s chamber, right—then they could blame Zoey for it and have her expelled. Apparently, Claudia had no idea what the substance was. She did it because she wanted you gone. She hates you because Tristan likes you and not her.”
Zoey ignored his last comment. The truth was harsh, that she was the reason that Claudia had infected the mirrors. But now the pieces from the puzzle were fitting together. It was all making sense.
She glanced at Tristan, who avoided her gaze. “So, Claudia poisoned the mirrors to get rid of me. Wow, I guess she really did hate me.”
“Well, whatever her reasons, it cost her her place at the Agency,” said Simon. He shook his head sadly. “She’ll never be an agent. She’s banned for life.”
Zoey watched as Claudia and her escorts disappeared through a square mirror. “Where are they taking her, do you know?
Simon shrugged. “I know there’s a correctional facility for delinquent Sevenths. It’s in one of our neighborhoods, but I don’t know where exactly.”
“You know,” said Zoey, “I never liked her. But I never wished for this to happen. I feel sorry for her.” It was hard not to feel guilty.
“Don’t blame yourself for what she did,” said Tristan. “This was all her doing. Don’t forget, the entire Agency nearly collapsed because of her. I wouldn’t feel too sorry.”
“But I do feel sorry, a lot sorry.” Zoey sighed. “She didn’t realize what she was doing. If she had known, she would never have done it. I’m sure of it.”
“I guess we’ll never know now,” said Simon.
The music stopped abruptly, and a high-pitched screech from a microphone blasted throughout the main hall. Zoey gritted her teeth.
“Uh…can everyone hear me?” Instead of his usual plaid suit, Director Hicks wore a black T-shirt with a large green alien head on it. The words, A-LEE-ANS are among us! were written in bright orange below it. Director Hicks’ face was beet-red.
“Good. Well, I would like to welcome all of you to this very special celebration.” He paused, looking around at all the faces. “Tonight, in honor of those who fought bravely and relentlessly to save us all, to those special few to whom we owe our lives, I will be giving out two of our most prestigious medals - the Shields of Valor.”
Mystics 3-Book Collection Page 47
