But the woman was staring straight at her.
Zoey stopped breathing. It was the most disturbing face she’d ever seen. It was chalk white, and the skin was pulled back severely. She looked constantly surprised. She had small black eyes like buttons that peered out below a hairless brow, and her nose was flat with tiny slits for nostrils. Her large pronounced cheekbones looked out of proportion. It was a face of too many plastic surgeries gone wrong—she had the face of a cat. Her short, slick, white hair was the only seemingly normal looking thing about her. Her large red lips were puffed out like sausages. She opened her mouth in wonder when she caught sight of Zoey.
“Who do we have here?” said the woman, her voice as soft as silk. “A little girl? Come here, little girl. Don’t be afraid. I won’t harm you. Come here into the light so I can see you better.”
Zoey tried to take a step backward, but her legs wouldn’t move. She couldn’t take her eyes off the woman’s face.
The cat-faced woman walked towards Zoey. Her bursting lips were twisted in what looked like a smile, something that took her a lot of effort to make.
“How did you get in here? Did someone let you in? Don’t be afraid. You can tell me. I’m your friend.”
From the corner of her eye, Zoey saw the man get up.
“Get her!” Hissed the woman suddenly. “She’s one of those kids like you!”
Zoey broke free from her paralysis. She stumbled backwards and fell as she reached for her DSM.
“Quickly, before she escapes,” yelled the woman. “She’s heard too much. Don’t let her get away!”
With the adrenaline kicking in, Zoey jumped to her feet and sprinted down the passageway from which she had come. She heard the man panting close behind her. She didn’t want to think of what they were going to do to her. There was nowhere to hide at the end of the passageway.
It was now or never.
She flipped open her DSM with trembling hands and tried to stand as still as a statue, even though her heart threatened to burst from her chest. Her DSM trembled in her grasp—her reflection was moving too much—she strained to keep steady.
The only light in the passageway went out. Zoey was left in complete blackness.
She could hear his footsteps and heavy breathing right behind her. She felt the air move. She kicked out low with her right leg and felt it connect. She heard the man growl in pain. Her eyes adjusted to the blackness, and she saw him make a grab for her. She ducked at the last moment and kicked at him again. He went down, but swung his fist viciously and caught her on the leg.
She crashed to the ground, and before she could register the pain, his hands were on her, around her neck, choking her. She tried to break his hold, but he was too strong. He hurled her into the wall. Her head crunched horribly into the stone, white light exploded in her vision, and she tasted blood in her mouth.
“You’re dead, little girl,” said the man. “Shouldn’t have been eavesdropping. And now I’m going to kill you.”
Zoey still couldn’t make out his face. He was going to come at her again.
Somehow she had held on to her DSM.
The shadow of the man came at her, swinging.
She held her DSM steadily, and just as his arm reached out to hit her, she shimmered and disappeared.
Chapter 10
Boomerang
“Why don’t you believe me?” Zoey looked hopefully at Agent Vargas and Agent Ward. Her debriefing back at the hive wasn’t going as Zoey had expected—she had expected them to believe her.
“And you’re sure you heard them using the word interloper?” asked Agent Ward for the third time. His hypercritical tone was causing Zoey to doubt the agent’s desire to trust her at all.
He continued, “From what you’ve told us, they were in the room next to you. Is it possible that you misunderstood them?”
“I didn’t misunderstand them,” said Zoey exasperated.
She tried to control her temper. She wiped the blood from her lip with a cloth. “I heard them say it more than once. I’m telling you the truth. Why won’t you believe me?”
“Calm yourself, Zoey,” said Agent Vargas. “We’re just trying to make sense of it all. It is a lot of information to process—and you only just started today. I know you’re desperate to prove yourself to everyone—you just might be a little overzealous. After your fight with the nitro-fairy, and then mirror-porting somewhere else, it’s no wonder you’re a little confused. That’s a pretty large bump you have on her head. Perhaps what you heard was not, in fact, what you believe you heard.”
Zoey’s face burned. “What I heard was that you have a traitor in the agency—a man. It was dark, and I didn’t see his face, so I can’t identify him. But he is the one that made it possible for that woman I told you about to steal the interloper. Maybe if you check the Boston hive—”
“The one with the cat-like face—” said Agent Ward shortly. She crossed her arms over her chest. “—the gang leader in your opinion, correct? A woman with a severe disfiguration who, according to you, was able to waltz right past the heavy security and into the Boston hive, murder the agents protecting the interloper, and then walk right back out without anyone seeing her. Is that about right?”
“Well, I don’t know how she did it, but yes,” said Zoey, sounding less and less confident by the minute.
“The woman said she had it. She has the interloper, I’m telling you she does.”
The words felt heavy in her mouth, and even she had started to second-guess her story. The way Agent Ward eyed Zoey made her realize it was hopeless. She had felt so important just moments ago. She felt proud that she had acquired intelligence for the agency, but now she felt deflated.
It didn’t make sense—why didn’t they believe her? Was it because she was a Drifter? As soon as it came into her mind, she started to believe it herself. It had to be the reason. She doubted they would have treated Tristan or Simon like this.
Agent Ward eyed her suspiciously. “Overzealous indeed. Fabricating stories to elevate oneself is a serious offense at the agency. I don’t know much about how orphanages operate, but here, we don’t take too kindly to liars.”
Zoey’s mouth fell open. “You don’t believe me? You think I made it all up, don’t you? You think I would actually lie about this? I’m bleeding. How did I fake that?”
She felt her eyes sting and forced them to stay dry. She would not let them see any of her angry tears. Not now. She lifted her pant leg and showed them the nasty purple and red bruise the man had left on her leg.
“What about this? How do you suppose I got that?”
“Children get bruises all the time,” said Agent Ward, and she raised an eyebrow. “It doesn’t prove anything, my dear.”
Zoey felt the color drain from her face. Her lips trembled. Her voice stuck in her throat. She should have known they wouldn’t believe her—after all she was the Drifter.
Agent Vargas shared a look with Agent Ward, and then he looked at Zoey. “You’re safe with us now and that’s what matters most. We are very happy to have you back here in one piece.”
He gave Zoey a kind smile. “You can go now, Zoey. We’ve heard what you had to say, and now Agent Ward and I need to have a moment to discuss the matter further. We’ll let you know if we need further assistance from you.”
Zoey swallowed hard and turned without another word. She felt that the world around her had closed in and was suffocating her. She couldn’t breathe. Her hands were clammy, and she wiped them on her jeans. She felt so humiliated—the agents thought she was a liar. How could they believe that she had made this up to bring more attention to herself—like that was something she lacked.
Tristan and Simon were waiting for her outside the door.
“And?” asked Simon eagerly as he and Tristan walked with Zoey down the hall. “Is the agency going on a mission-impossible to sniff out the DA?”
Zoey wrinkled her face. “The district attorney?”
“He mean
s double agent,” answered Tristan. “The traitor. The man that attacked you.”
Simon emptied a bag of chips in his mouth. “You’re totally going to be upgraded to full agent status,” he said with his mouth full. “Man, you’re so lucky. I wish it could’ve been me. I mean, all I got going for me is my flawless skin and perfect hair—you’re going to be involved with top-secret stuff, you know. You’re the only one that can identify him and the plastic lady.”
Zoey stopped walking. “It’s not going to happen. Sorry to disappoint you—but they didn’t believe me.”
Simon spit out his chips and nearly tripped. “What? Are you serious?”
Tristan lowered his eyes. “I don’t believe it.”
“Believe it. I’m very serious,” said Zoey. “According to Agent Ward, I made the entire thing up to get attention.”
Tristan shook his head, looking angry. “The old woman’s senile, forget about her. What about Agent Vargas? What did he say?”
“I don’t think he believed me either,” said Zoey.
The whole experience was feeling more and more like a bad dream. Part of her wished it never happened. “Let’s just forget about it, okay.”
“But he has to believe you,” pressed Tristan, his voice rising. “What’s wrong with them? They have to report every piece of information that threatens the agency—it’s their job! They can’t just pretend it didn’t happen. What you told us is too important to ignore—they have to warn management before it’s too late.”
“I don’t think they’re going to say anything to management,” said Zoey. “I could just tell by the way they were looking at me, like I was a total spaz.”
Tristan was silent for a moment. “Then we have to tell Agent Barnes. He’ll believe us. I know he will.”
“Yeah, let’s tell him,” said Simon. “He’ll believe us for sure.”
Zoey doubted that Agent Barnes would believe her, but seeing how much her friends believed that he would, she decided to tell him. “Okay, if you say so.”
“Cheer up, Zoey,” said Simon. “We still have to get back at Stuart for messing with the mirror-port.”
He smiled mischievously. “If he wants to be treated like royalty, then I’ll just have to throne him a few punches.”
Zoey laughed, she could always count on Simon to make her laugh. At least her friends believed her, and that was something. She had never had real friends before.
Following her friends’ advice, Zoey approached Agent Barnes the next morning. Tristan and Simon stood beside her for support as she recounted the events. After she was done, she stood and waited for him to laugh at her. But he didn’t.
“You did a good thing telling me,” he said. “I’ve been saying all along that it was an inside job. Now they’re going to have to listen.” And then he stormed away.
None of the agents brought up the subject of the interloper again, but Zoey couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that lingered in her mind. She knew it was there, like a hand in front of her face in the dark, she couldn’t see it, but she felt it was there.
She hadn’t expected the rumors. Somehow, the other operatives had gotten wind of her experience with the mirror-port, and it had become a running joke.
“Hey watch out! The cat lady is right behind you!”
“Meow! Meow!”
“Yo, catnip.”
Tristan and Simon had to pull her away kicking and screaming a few times. Although she was still furious, and her pride was hurt, she had willed herself to ignore their taunts. She had really wanted to start a fight, but she couldn’t afford to get into trouble.
The agents watched Zoey constantly. It wasn’t just Agent Ward or Agent Vargas—all the agents at the hive appeared to be on watch duty for Zoey. She got looks from everyone. Even Mrs. Andrews at reception gave her questionable looks. The way they kept eyeing her suspiciously—it was almost as though they thought she had something to do with the stolen interloper. But how could she?
Being watched constantly put a damper on her plans to avenge herself on Stuart. Instead of telling the agents that Stuart had pushed her, she had told them that it was her fault—she had tripped and caused the DSM to malfunction.
Zoey wasn’t a rat, and she preferred to settle her battles her own way. Stuart had not realized that Zoey was waiting for an opportunity to get back at him, and he strolled the agency’s hallways as if he owned the place, confident that he was untouchable. That was his first mistake. She would get her revenge one day. Stuart was going to pay.
As they entered September, the nights became cooler and Zoey slept with her windows open. With lots of work, dedication, and ongoing help from Tristan and Simon, she had finally caught up with the rest of the class. She could recite all the mystics in the first rank by heart and was now half way through the second rank. She had also grasped the art of mirror-porting, and could make ten jumps in one day—all without throwing up. She beamed when Agent Vargas had told her she was a natural.
She could hardly believe she’d been at the agency for over three months. The hive felt more like home than any foster home ever had. Her lessons in theory and practical had also become more exciting now that she had mastered the basics. She liked belonging to something more important and bigger than she was.
Even Agent Ward hadn’t failed her. In fact, Agent Ward had smiled at Zoey one morning and congratulated her on her essay, Ogres, Big and Small. Agent Ward had never smiled at her before.
Zoey, Tristan, and Simon were just returning to the Academy after lunch when they were mustered with the others outside.
“Everyone outside—wait by the main entrance!” barked Agent Vargas as he escorted everyone outside with him.
He wore a big stopwatch and a whistle on a string around his neck.
“Off you go, all of you. You need to be physically fit to be good agents. Around the hive four times.”
“Come on, Stacey, you need to be faster than that,” he called to a pudgy girl with a red face. “Nela, James, hurry up—off you go now!”
Zoey ran alongside Tristan and Simon. She was grateful that she hadn’t had the cheeseburger and fries, and had stuck with the house chicken salad for lunch. Simon tripped a few times, and lied that had asthma so he could avoid the last lap. Zoey thought her lungs were going to burst, but she made it to the end and collapsed on the ground with the others.
“He means to kill us by exhaustion.” Simon collapsed on the ground beside Zoey. “I think I’ve lost a lung.”
A whistle blew. “Everyone back to class!” With a smile, Agent Vargas strolled back through the front entrance.
Tristan laughed. “Don’t be a baby. It’s all part of the training.”
He offered his hands to both Zoey and Simon and lifted them to their feet. He let go of Simon right away, but clung to Zoey’s hand a little longer. Their eyes met, and there was an uncomfortable silence between them. She looked into his eyes, and she felt something deep within her that caused her entire body to stiffen.
“Guys, I think I’m allergic to air,” said Simon, as he held the cramp at his side. “Seriously, I think I am—look—” He wheezed overdramatically and pointed to his mouth. “That’s not normal! I think I’m dying!”
Zoey’s throat still felt like she had swallowed razor blades after the run, but she wasn’t making a big thing of it.
Tristan rolled his eyes and let go of Zoey’s hand.
He nudged Simon playfully. “Come on freak,” he said and made for the front entrance.
Simon still pretended to be suffocating.
Zoey hesitated. Why did Tristan make her so nervous? No one ever made her nervous—she hated the feeling. He was just another boy—her friend—that was all. It was her own fault he was looking at her in that way, her and her big mouth.
She followed Tristan and Simon back to class. As they entered room 1D, most of the operatives were already there, breathing hard and sweaty. They were all hunched over the back table, talking excitedly. She wasn’t the on
ly one looking forward to the weapons training session they were going to have today.
The table was covered with a collection of sparkling black slingshots, crossbows, dartlike weapons, ninjalike stars, silver daggers, and boxes that overflowed with metal balls the size of marbles.
A single golden boomerang caught her attention. In the shape of a slightly curved V, it winked at her from under a pile of daggers. She couldn’t explain it, but somehow she was drawn to it. Excitement fluttered inside her and she had to restrain herself from reaching out and grabbing it. The other operatives drooled over the slingshots—they looked really cool—but her eyes kept going back to the boomerang.
Tristan only looked mildly excited. She knew he had used a slingshot before. She had seen it on him on the very first day she had met him, but she had never asked him about it.
The classroom’s door closed with a bang.
“Good, you’re all here,” Agent Vargas strolled across the room.
“This, my little operatives,” he said proudly, “is the new S9 series Pro slingshot, the latest model. It’s not unlike the S8 you were using before, but it’s lighter and more precise. It’s built with mystic technology—you’re not supposed to miss with this one.”
The operatives laughed, but Zoey’s insides stirred.
“In today’s class we’re going to freshen up your aim,” continued Agent Vargas, “and then we’ll move on to shooting at moving targets. It’s important to note that the slingshots, and all the other weapons that you see on that table, are only used to immobilize hostiles—not to kill them.”
Stuart and Claudia laughed at some inside joke, and then they both stared at Zoey with evil grins on their faces. She hoped they’d try something—it would give her an excuse to fight Stuart.
Agent Vargas surveyed the operatives intensely. “Weapons training is a major component of our operative physical training programs. You must pass marksmanship tests, and you need at least ninety percent accuracy with slingshots, handguns, crossbows, and all the other projectile arms.
Mystics #1: The Seventh Sense Page 11