Zoey leaned forward.
“Utron is lethal to us, much like radiation—”
“Great,” said Simon. “It keeps getting better and better.”
Agent Franken ignored him. “Once you open the first UEC—and I must insist that you open it with extreme caution—place it gently inside the portal. After that you’ll have maybe two minutes to pass through the portal before the energy will kill you, so don’t linger—”
“You don’t have to tell me twice—ouch!” Tristan smacked Simon on the back of his head.
“As soon as you pass through to our side, open the second UEC quickly.”
Zoey waited for Agent Franken to explain further, but he didn’t. “Then what?”
Agent Franken raised his eyebrows. “Then find a safe place to hide from the blast. You won’t have much time, so you better run. Anything within a two hundred foot radius will be destroyed in the blast.”
Zoey nodded. “And then?”
Agent Franken let his head fall back on his pillow heavily. “And then we pray that it works, because we have nothing else.”
Zoey secured the strap around her shoulder and followed the others out to the main hall. A crowd was gathering around the mirrors, but no teams were going through.
“Let’s go to the Inn and get some food and drinks,” said Zoey.
She pushed her way through a throng of agents.
“Good idea, I’m starving,” said Simon, and he rubbed his belly. “If I don’t feed this gorgeous body soon, it’ll lose the two pounds of muscle mass I gained this year.”
“What else is new?” laughed Tristan. “But I could use some food, too.”
As Zoey made her way through the moving crowd, she felt something was off. The agents were agitated, and by the looks on their faces it wasn’t because they were about to go on a dangerous quest. It was something else. But what? And where was Agent Ward?
Zoey saw Directors Hicks and Campbell flailing their arms, trying to calm them down. But the mob pushed and shoved, like crazed fans at a concert trying to get at the head of the line. Something was very wrong.
“Who could have done this?”
“What will this mean for us?”
“It’s all over!”
“We’re all going to die!”
All the agents were in a panic.
Zoey wasn’t going anywhere until she knew what was going on.
She approached a young agent. “Excuse me, what’s happened? What’s going on?”
The agent trembled. “The UECs!” he cried hysterically. “They’re all gone! Gone! Stolen!”
Instinctively, Zoey squeezed the strap on her shoulder. She had never let it go.
She felt the material between her fingers. But when she reached down, where the bag should have been, the strap dangled in midair. The bag was gone.
Chapter 9
The White Fortress
Zoey stared opened mouthed at the straps. Her stomach twisted until she couldn’t breathe. She was having a meltdown.
Tristan grabbed her shoulders and met her eyes. “Zoey, where’s the bag?”
“Oh my God, are you serious!” Simon stared at the strap in Zoey’s hand like it was about to explode.
As much as she wanted to answer . . . she couldn’t. She had no idea where the bag was. The bag was gone. It was just gone.
She’d been so careful with the bag, had held it so securely, that at first she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her.
“It’s been . . . it’s been cut,” said Zoey.
She showed them the strap. “A sharp knife or something, I never even felt it.” She felt stupid saying it, but it was the truth. She hadn’t felt anything.
Who took her bag and why?
Tristan frowned as he surveyed the hall. “It could have been anyone in here.”
Zoey knew that anyone could have taken it without her knowing, but they had to have been stealthy. Neither Tristan nor Simon had noticed anyone coming near her.
Simon shared a quick conversation with a nearby agent and hurried back towards them.
“Apparently, all the UECs are gone,” he said in a low voice. “Every single one of them has been stolen from the science officers. And get this—no one saw what happened. They just disappeared. No one else has any idea who took them either. What are we supposed to do now?”
Zoey caught a few agents looking their way. Their cold and accusing eyes focused on the strap she held in her hands. And before she knew it, a mob of agents was whispering and pointing reproachfully at Zoey.
“Yeah, that’s her,” she heard one man say.
“. . . Bet she took them,” said a woman with short auburn hair. “Look at her. She looks guilty!”
“She’s in on it. She’s working for that Mrs. Dupont, I know she is . . . .”
Here we go again, thought Zoey. Would they ever accept her?
She scanned the hall. The real traitor had been here moments ago, but they were probably long gone.
Suddenly, someone grabbed Zoey from behind and spun her around. A fat finger pointed at her face.
“YOU!” hissed a large woman in tight outfit that exposed too much skin. “You did this, didn’t you?”
The woman’s spit flew in Zoey’s face. “We all know you’re the cause of this mess—”
“I’m not.” Zoey wiped her face and strained to control her temper. “I’m not responsible for this—”
“Yes you are!” bellowed the large woman, her double chin wiggled like a water balloon. “Where did you put the UECs? Where are they?”
Zoey clenched her jaw.
“I. Don’t. Know,” she growled. “Take your finger out of my face, before I bite it off.”
“AH!” the woman threw up her hands.
“Did you hear what she said?” she raised her voice so that everyone in the hall could hear her. “She wants to attack me! She wants to kill me!”
A mob of agents crowded around Zoey and her friends. Slowly, she reached for her golden bracelet and waited. She saw Tristan and Simon reach for their weapons, too.
“Where are they?” repeated the woman as sweat trickled down her forehead. “You better tell us . . . or we’ll make you tell us—”
“ENOUGH!”
Director Hicks pushed his way through the crowd.
“What is the meaning of this?” He could see that Zoey had her hand on her weapon and he frowned. “Why are you attacking these young Sevenths? Have you lost your mind woman?”
The large woman put her hands on her hips. Zoey could see great sweat stains under her arms.
“Director Hicks, we know this girl took the UECs—”
“No, she did not.” Director Hicks seemed to grow taller and towered over the woman.
She cowered and said nothing. He glared at the gathered agents.
The large woman crossed her arms over her bugling chest. “If she didn’t do it, then who did?”
Director Hicks didn’t answer right away. “We still don’t know.”
He glared at the woman. “Now, I suggest you forget this ridiculous notion and think of a solution instead of creating more problems.”
He looked at Zoey.
“But Director Hicks,” said a middle-aged agent who looked like he was about to coach a little league team, “the UECs were our only hope. How can we shut them down the portals without them?”
Director Hicks pulled on the sleeves of his plaid jacket nervously, like he was hiding something. “Our scientists are working hard at creating new ones, but I’m afraid they won’t be ready for another few days . . . maybe a week.”
Zoey, Tristan, and Simon shared a look. Simon mouthed the words “a week!”
Agent Frank had given them twelve hours.
“So, while we wait for the new UECs to arrive, I want everyone to settle down and regroup with their teams and come up with new strategies. We have mountains of work to do. Go on now.”
Director Hicks’s fingers twitched at his sides nervously, a
nd when Zoey looked into his eyes, she could see that he knew a week was too long,
“Any ideas as to what we do now?” asked Tristan as the mob of agents dispersed.
Zoey glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one was listening. “We stick to the plan.”
“We do?” questioned Simon, and then he lowered his voice. “But how? We don’t have our secret weapon anymore.”
He raised his brows. “You look like you’ve already got something in mind? What’s the plan, oh mighty one?”
Zoey tossed the useless strap onto a nearby table.
She took Tristan and Simon by the arms and said, “I don’t know yet. But we can’t give up now. We’ll figure something out. But right now, we need to go. Come on!”
With Tristan and Simon behind her, Zoey tore down the hall and raced across the grounds to the Wander Inn. They pleased Aria by inhaling a late supper and asked her to pack them each a midnight snack.
Zoey shut her bedroom door. “All right. Who’s got a watch?”
“Nobody wears watches anymore, girl,” laughed Simon. He pulled out his cell phone. “We use these babies.”
“Anyway,” said Zoey a little annoyed that she could never afford one of her own. “You’ll keep track of time, got it?”
“Got it.” Simon slipped his phone back into this jacket pocket.
“And the food.” Zoey tossed Simon the three meals. She watched him stuff his backpack and then filled her own bag with water bottles. She zipped it up and hoisted it over her shoulders. “You guys ready?”
“Ready,” chorused Tristan and Simon.
“You can still back out, you know.” Even though she meant it, Zoey hoped her friends would accompany her. She needed them.
“You’re not going anywhere without me,” said Tristan, and Zoey felt her cheeks burn.
“Don’t forget me,” said Simon. “You need at least one guy with a cell phone.”
“Let’s do this.”
Zoey withdrew her double-sided mirror from inside her jacket and flipped it open. “Grab hold of my arms and squeeze in. I need to have all your reflections in the mirror.”
Simon grabbed her left arm. “You know where we’re going, right?”
“Not really. Don’t look so freaked out. It’ll be fine—”
“Says the girl who has no idea where we’re going,” said Simon.
“Shut up, Simon, and let her concentrate,” said Tristan. “Or do you want our legs to end up somewhere in Africa?” Simon glared at Tristan but kept his mouth shut.
Zoey filled her mind with images of Muttab. She pictured the eight-foot black-cloaked figure with a white face mask under its black hood. Her skin tingled. Her reflection wavered. Her friends looked like flickering ghosts in the mirror.
“Ready!” she called. Her friends’ grips tightened.
“One . . . two . . . THREE!”
With a pop, they vanished.
Even before Zoey felt the full effects of the mirror-port, her feet met solid ground. The air moved beside her, and she felt the presence of her friends. She blinked and looked around.
They stood on a rocky island with brilliant white beaches surrounded by a turquoise sea, but she had no idea which sea. Her jacket flapped in winds that smelled of salt and tropical flowers. Great waves smashed against the rocks and showered Zoey in salt water. Overhead, deep maroon clouds raced against a sky the color of blood. The effects of the Great Junction had reached this little island, too.
A few hundred yards away, a white castle with many turrets and towers overlooked the sea below. Its graceful ivory walls gleamed in the sun like a giant jewel. It was like an elegant and magical fairytale castle from a painting. Zoey had never seen anything so majestic and beautiful in all her life, and she had to restrain herself from running over to it.
The earth vibrated under Zoey’s sneakers as though the castle’s magic was alive in the ground and in the rocks.
“You found it,” yelled Tristan over the wind. “It’s beautiful.”
He turned towards her. “You knew you’d find it, didn’t you? The castle that never stays put in the same place for long . . . and you found it.”
Zoey smiled in spite of herself. “I did.”
Perhaps she was the only Seventh or human being for that matter who could find the secret castle. Agent Franken had known she could find it, and his belief in her had given her the extra courage she needed at first to set out on this crazy quest.
“We better hurry. Who knows how long it will stay here.”
“Man, it’s like ninety degrees here!”
Simon tossed his jacket on the ground. “My sweat glands are on overdrive.”
After about ten minutes of clambering up the sandy road, Zoey brushed the dust out of her hair and looked around.
Magic sparkled on every surface of the castle like a thin layer of chalk, and the glass spires of the turrets gleamed as if they had been enchanted.
They strolled through a gateway below an ornate arch and up a flight of stone steps where they stopped in front of two colossal glass doors.
“Now what?” Simon spit some sand from his mouth.
“Do you think someone’s expecting us? I mean—they are sorceresses. Maybe they saw us coming in their crystal balls or something.”
Although she couldn’t explain it, Zoey agreed with Simon. She felt like they were being watched somehow, as though the castle walls had eyes.
Tristan turned to Zoey as if he expected her to decide what to do first.
She raised her fist and knocked four times on the castle doors.
They all stepped back.
Simon looked around nervously. “Who do you think will answer the door—?”
Suddenly the doors screeched loudly and swung open.
Tristan peered inside.
“No one,” he said and he turned around. “There’s no one there.”
Simon whistled. “Oooh . . . spooky. This is so cool!”
Tristan reached inside his jacket pocket for his dagger, but Zoey grabbed his arm.
“No, don’t,” she said, shaking her head. “They might take that as a threat. We’re here to ask for their help. We can’t anger or frighten them. This is our only shot. Let’s not jeopardize it.”
Tristan slipped his weapon back into the folds of his jacket, but he didn’t look too pleased about it.
“Fine, but I don’t have a good feeling about this place. I feel like the walls have eyes, and they’re glaring down at us in a bad way.”
Zoey nodded. “I know. I feel the same way. But we don’t have a choice. We need their help. Come on, let’s go find Muttab.”
The truth was Zoey didn’t know how Muttab would greet them. When she had met her the first time, she hadn’t been exactly friendly or engaging. Maybe she would be angry that Zoey had come to her house uninvited.
Zoey swallowed her fears and walked through the doors. She didn’t know what to expect. Even though Muttab was her mother’s friend, she had been told that the Minitians weren’t forthcoming with humans. She kept thinking about what Agent Franken had said, the key is to persuade them, which will prove to be a difficult task, nearly impossible . . . it’ll be a lot harder than you think . . . .
Somehow, she knew he was right. They were about to find out.
They walked on cold marble floors and stepped into a grand foyer. The echo of their footsteps shattered the omnipresent silence. A series of white marble columns supported arched ceilings nearly two hundred feet above them. Zoey felt a thick electric energy, and the smell of incense stained the air like a heavy perfume. Was that magic she felt? It had to be.
After getting over the initial shock of walking in such a grand and elegant castle, Zoey noticed the first strange signs of wear.
Upon closer inspection, the polished floors were cracked, like something heavy had landed on them repeatedly. Deep fissures crisscrossed the outer walls like jagged veins, and chips of marble and dust carpeted the floors. Even one of the tall column
s was cracked and fractured. Everywhere she looked, she saw signs of destruction, like a bomb had gone off.
“Something happened here,” she said. “The castle’s been damaged somehow. Maybe an earthquake? Looks like it.”
Tristan inspected a large fissure in the limestone wall. “Maybe. But maybe it’s a side effect from moving around so much. The castle moves, remember?”
Zoey nodded. Tristan was right. This had to be an effect from constantly moving. The bones of the poor old castle were suffering from age and movement.
The foyer opened up into a room the size of a school gymnasium. The walls were lined with alcoves that were filled with magnificent tapestries and crystal sculptures of creatures Zoey had never seen before. Even in here, the floors were cracked, and there were fractures in the columns and walls.
As they traveled deeper, all of Zoey’s instincts told her to get out of there, to run and never come back. If things went wrong, they’d need a fast way out, and the castle’s front doors were getting further and further away. She repressed a shiver.
The coldness of the room chilled her bones and dulled her spirit, as if she would never laugh or smile ever again. The space was unnaturally empty. There was no furniture anywhere, not even a chair or a simple candlestick. Didn’t witches burn candles? Were the Minitians hiding somewhere, waiting to spring a trap? She’d have to find out. They had to ask for help. They had no other options. They needed a spell to become invisible.
“There’s no furniture in here,” whispered Zoey although her voice carried a lot louder than she had first anticipated. “Castles do have furniture, don’t they?”
Tristan frowned, “I admit it’s a little weird, but we’re the first Sevenths ever to set foot in this castle. Maybe this is normal to the Minitians.”
Zoey kept walking. Tristan did have a point. Maybe they were spiritual creatures and only furnished their castle with what was truly necessary. Was there a library where they studied their magic? Or beds—if they even slept? And without mouths, did these creatures even eat?
“Hey, check these out! They’re awesome,” said Simon as he inspected the head of one the crystal sculptures. “Totally weird, but totally cool. I wonder what they’re for?”
Mystics 3-Book Collection Page 57
