“He saw me. I can’t have anyone identifying me.”
“But what about us? We see you?” said Simon. When he realized he had stuck his own foot in his mouth, he paled.
“You know, I only have 20/200 eyesight.” He continued. “Technically I’m legally blind. I couldn’t recognize you in a lineup if my life depended on it—honest.”
Their captor gave Simon a small smile, a smile that killers give their victims before they die.
“Stay,” ordered the man, as though they were little puppies.
He stepped over the body and then leaned over the computer. When he had finished typing, he took a step back.
And an alarm blasted throughout the chamber.
Zoey and the others winced and pressed their hands on their ears. She was certain the entire north continent could hear it.
But the suited man didn’t cover his ears—he just looked at them unsympathetically.
“Since you love mystics so much,” he shouted over the alarm. “Why not make it a permanent thing? I thought you’d enjoy a little get-together with your best friends.”
He moved away from the desk, but kept his gun pointed at them.
“If you move from that spot, I’ll shoot you. And don’t think I won’t, because I will. Your lives mean nothing to me, but I’d rather not kill children, if I don’t have to.”
He crossed the room swiftly, smiled at them one last time, and closed the doors behind him.
Zoey ran after him. But when she reached the doors, they wouldn’t budge.
“He’s locked us in!” she yelled over the alarm, her words thick in her mouth.
An automatic message suddenly sounded in the chamber.
Systems shutdown…commencing in ten seconds…nine…eight…”
Simon ran over to the computer. “It’s locked with a password!” he yelled as he typed on the keyboard.
“I can’t do a system’s reboot without the password. I can’t stop it!” He hit the keyboard with his fist.
Tristan ran over to the desk, reached under it, and pulled out the power cable. He tossed it to the ground and then stood still, waiting.
“…seven…six…” said the voice. The alarm still thundered across the chamber.
“It didn’t work,” said Simon. He covered his head with his hands. “What happens after ten seconds?”
Tristan looked around frantically. “I don’t know—I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”
“…five…four…” continued the voice.
“But I don’t want to find out!” squealed Simon. “I want to live!”
Zoey ran back to the others. “I don’t like this! What’s going to happen?”
“…three…two…”
The three of them stared at each other, petrified.
“…one.”
Zoey stopped breathing.
“System shutdown.” The alarm stopped.
And then the worst thing that could happen, happened.
A series of clicks sounded, and then one by one the doors to all the cells opened.
Chapter 18
A Mystic Brawl
Simon pinched his own arm. “Wake up, Simon. Wake up! Ouch!”
Zoey punched him on the arm. “You’re awake like the rest of us. Snap out of it! I need you focused.”
They watched aghast as the mystics slowly crept out of their cages. With a beat of her wings, the winged woman flew to the ceiling where she attached herself upside down like a bat. Her snake hairs hissed at them.
A spider the size of a couch scurried out of its booth and froze in the middle of the room. It surveyed the room with its large, black eyes, as if it were waiting to pounce on its next victim.
Some mystics ventured out confidently, while others preferred to stay in the safety of their prisons. The fire horse was one of them. It backed away from its open door, neighing and trembling. Its eyes were wide with fear. Zoey started forward, as if she were going to comfort the fire horse, but Tristan held her back.
At the other end of the chamber, the Krakenite waddled out of its pen like a giant alligator finally escaping from the years of confinement of a zoo. It tested the open space carefully, as though it needed to make sure it was real. Its dull gray eyes seemed surprised.
All the mystics that came out had one thing in common—their eyes burned with hate. Like convicts about to pounce on their prison guards—their malice was pure and simple. They had been imprisoned by the agency, and now they wanted revenge.
“Is it me, or do you guys feel like we’re on the mystic menu?”
Simon looked around and then pointed to himself and said in a very loud voice, “I have a medical condition called IBS—irritable bowel syndrome—if you eat me, you’ll suffer severe intestinal failure for the rest of your life. Now think about that, before you go all table d'hôte on us!”
He turned back to Tristan and Zoey and added in a low voice. “I don’t think they care. What do we do now? They’re like a hundred, and we’re like—three.”
“We’ll have to fight our way out. Grab your weapons and get ready to use them.” Tristan drew his S9 and grabbed a chair. He smashed the chair on the ground, and it exploded into pieces. He stooped over the pile, picked up a metal chair leg and waved it around like a baton.
“Zoey, stay close to me.”
“Yes, Agent Price,” she teased with a little smile that failed to disguise her fear.
“If we get out of this alive,” said Simon, “I promise to stop stealing Billy’s chips from his school bag and eating them.”
Following Tristan’s example, Simon yanked his slingshot from his pocket and armed it with a metal ball. Zoey clasped her boomerang securely. With their weapons brandished before them, they stood close to each other—ready.
The fairies who watched them never blinked their eyes.
“It was a pleasure serving with the two of you,” continued Simon, in a melodramatic voice. “May the force be with us!”
And then the attack began. The fairies dive-bombed them.
Using both arm ambidextrously, Tristan swung his metal baton at the deadly fairies. With mighty swings, he batted them skillfully like a seasoned baseball player. They ricocheted off the bat and smashed against the wall with loud crunches.
Zoey was so impressed by Tristan’s maneuvers that she was nearly taken by surprise by three fairies who had sneaked up behind her. She turned just as they went for her face with their sharp teeth. She ducked, turned, and with a powerful strike, whacked the three fairies with the end of her boomerang. They went sprawling. Something hit her on the back of the head like a brick. She went down and rolled, struggling with the dizzy spell that threatened to take her over. But she got up and blinked the black spots from her eyes.
The rock creature came at her again. She ducked and hurled her boomerang. It spun and hit the mystic, but the rock creature was like a brick wall. The boomerang ricocheted back. She caught it and backed away slowly. She couldn’t see if it had any eyes, but the gaping maw under its belly dripped with anticipation. It came at her like a cannon ball. She went spinning and fell to one knee, amazed that she had still held on to her boomerang. The rock mystic leaped at her as she struggled to her feet—but this time she was ready. She whirled and kicked, putting all her strength into it. She hit it with upwards momentum and flipped the creature on its back. The rock thing wailed desperately and flailed its limbs in the air like an upside-down spider. But its rock carapace was too heavy, and it wasn’t able to flip itself back upright.
In the corner of her eye, she saw Simon fire his slingshot at a hairy creature with two heads and large rabbit ears. At the same time he was struggling to kick off the fairies that were feasting on his calves.
Tristan had moved away from them, closer to the opposite side of the chamber, and was fighting a giant white beast that looked like the abominable snowman’s cousin.
Zoey knew that they were outnumbered. If they didn’t somehow get out soon, they wouldn’t stand a chanc
e. They really would become items on Simon’s mystic menu.
What she saw next lifted her spirits slightly. Six fairies dove towards her, but when she lifted her arm, ready to throw her boomerang, they flew over her head and landed on the island of computers and monitors behind her. In fact, most of the fairies seemed to turn their attention to the electronic equipment. Although at least fifty other nasty mystics were still ready to skin them alive, the threat had lessened slightly.
And then something strange happened. The mystics started to attack each other.
In a cacophony of flesh tearing flesh and earsplitting wails, the chamber became a bloody battlefield. The mystics fought one another with more hatred than they had showed to Zoey and her friends. They clawed and ripped at each other savagely.
She watched as a troll-like mystic used its nails to slash a green skeletal creature. It flailed wildly, choked, and finally collapsed. Crimson fluid poured in streams from its gaping maw and spilled onto the marble floor. Zoey was disgusted at their savagery—it was a horrible sight. Warm bile rose in her throat. She had never seen anything so terrifying and so real. She knew that there must have been some history between the fighting mystics, but she didn’t know what.
Then she felt a new premonition electrify her skin. There was flash of green, and suddenly a spike stuck through her arm. She cried out in pain—the spike burned her flesh like acid. Then the spike was wrenched back out of her arm, and she could see that it had left a bloody gash.
She caught a glimpse of her attacker. It watched her with large, yellow eyes. It was humanoid with long gangly limbs and sharp black talons. It had no neck, and its large oblong head had a mouth full of pointed black teeth. The smell of decay from its filthy green skin burned into Zoey’s nose. It cocked its head and looked at Zoey. Then its skin started to bubble and change. The thing pulled and twisted itself like dough. Slowly it morphed into a distorted version of Zoey herself. It was a shape shifter.
The creature laughed at Zoey’s shock, and in a parody of Zoey it brushed its red hair and admired itself. It smiled at her, but not with Zoey’s perfect white straight teeth, the creature’s teeth were rotten and pointy like a cat’s.
The shape shifter lunged at Zoey
Zoey hit it in the stomach with the sharp end of her boomerang. The creature stumbled back, but before she could react, it had grabbed her boomerang. The creature twirled the boomerang in its hand and laughed. It was much stronger than her. It leapt at her again, and Zoey fell to the ground on her back. The shape shifter snapped its mouth at her, inches from her neck. Desperately, she tried to push the thing off of her, but it was too strong. Its weight crushed her chest, and she couldn’t breathe. Her other self was going to kill her. She felt its rough lips brush her neck.
But suddenly the shape shifter was jerked backwards into the air. Blood escaped from its mouth, and then its body snapped in half with a hideous crack. The Krakenite tossed it to the ground. Satisfied that it was dead—the Krakenite turned its attention to Zoey.
She backed away slowly. Desperately, she looked for her boomerang. It was still clutched in the hand of dead shape shifter. Instinctively, she raised her right arm, hoping that her gold bracelet would draw the boomerang back to her. It shifted slightly, lifting its wing in the air. It twisted on itself, trying to break free from the hold of the dead shape shifter. But it held on too tightly, and the boomerang wouldn’t break free.
The Krakenite advanced slowly towards her, its muscles rippling under its wet raw skin. It was stalking her and it licked its lips in anticipation.
Zoey couldn’t see Tristan or Simon. She couldn’t even manage to scream to her friends for help. Her jaws were frozen in terror, and the words died in her throat.
Zoey stared death in the face. There was no way out of this one.
The beast reared, and then bounded towards her again.
But Tristan arrived with a flash of blue light. He forced the great beast’s maw closed with his bare hands, and then stuck one of his metal poles into its head and pushed it down into its brain. The Krakenite stiffened and then crumbled to the ground.
When Tristan turned around, Zoey’s breath was taken away by what she saw.
His skin was light blue. Large blue veins showed through the skin on his face and arms like tattoos, as though his skin was paper-thin. And his eyes glowed with the deepest sea-blue light she had ever seen.
A shiver rippled down her back. That tingling sense she had always felt when she was around Tristan intensified. She always assumed that the sensations had been caused by her growing feelings for him, but now she saw her mistake—it was because he was a mystic.
Zoey couldn’t tell, but she must have looked scared because Tristan looked hurt when he saw that she appeared to be frightened of him. She was confused, scared, and her heart was crushed.
Simon bounced into view. He had strange orange slime all over the front of his shirt, but otherwise he was unharmed. He beamed at Tristan and smacked him on the back.
“Wow, that was awesome! You had like, super strength, like a superhero. You’re like, like superman’s little brother. It was amazing.”
Tristan didn’t look at Simon. He watched the battle instead.
“Looks like the mystics have forgotten about us, for the time being. We should move before they remember who put them in those cages.”
Zoey pressed her wounded arm as she attempted to stop the bleeding, but her eyes never left Tristan.
“How did you do that? You changed—your skin changed color—and you had these veins showing all over your body. What are you?”
Tristan’s shoulders tensed, but he didn’t turn around.
When Simon noticed that Tristan wasn’t about to answer, he spoke up.
“He’s a Mysterian—by the looks of him—a human mystic hybrid,” said Simon amazed. “They’re like super rare.”
Zoey watched Tristan uneasily. She remembered seeing a blue halo around him when they had fought the Krakenite back at the academy.
She looked at Simon angrily. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Simon shrugged. “I didn’t know he was a Mysterian—I’ve never even seen one before now. I don’t think anyone knows.”
“Management knows,” said Tristan.
He turned around, and his skin and eyes were back to their normal color.
“—and a few agents.”
He looked at Zoey, but she looked quickly away and then felt guilty.
“Tristan’s right, we need to get out of here,” she added hastily, pretending not to be affected by Tristan’s sudden change. “Before the mystics that are left decide to make a meal out of us, after all.”
Pressure on her chest made it hard for her to breathe. She looked everywhere except at Tristan and felt increasingly guilty at avoiding his gaze. When she did look at him again, he looked vacant and unfocused.
She heard a neigh and turned to see the fire horse pinned in its cell by a giant snake.
“Hang on, there’s something I need to do,” said Zoey. “See if you can unlock the doors. I’ll be right back.”
Zoey sprinted across the chamber before they could stop her. She skidded to a stop in front of the dead shape shifter, and careful not to look at its face, her face, she pried open its fingers and rescued her boomerang. She didn’t know why, but she had this sudden urge to rescue the fire horse.
She made sure no other mystics were in pursuit, and rushed to the fire horse’s cell. With all the energy she had left, she hurled her boomerang in the direction of the snake creature. It hit its head, and it collapsed with a thud. She caught her rebounding boomerang as she ran closer to the fire horse.
It backed away from her, wild-eyed. Flames suddenly soared from the horse, and she backed away. But even through the flames, she could see the horse was shivering. It was terrified.
“Come,” she pleaded, her eyes watering from the heat waves.
“Come, please. I won’t hurt you,” she said in her softest voice.
What girl wouldn’t fall in love with a fire stallion? It pained her to see it so scared, and she ached to help it. She knew animals had a special sixth sense. They could sense danger, and distinguish between foes and friends. She tried to be calm, so not to frighten the beast. And then she thought of something.
“I’m your friend,” she said softly. “Don’t be afraid. If you come with me, I’ll take you out of here. I’ll take you outside into the wild where you can run free. Would you like that?”
The horse seemed to relax. The fire around it subsided, and for the first time she could see that its fur was a golden-red color, like the setting sun. Its golden eyes watched her, and somehow she knew the horse understood.
After a moment, it walked slowly towards her.
“Good boy, that’s it. Very good—that’s a good boy.”
The stallion lowered its head and nudged her. Zoey jumped back, surprised at the heat—but it didn’t burn—it was warm. She reached out and patted the side of its neck. Its warmth soared through her hand and up her arm, comforting her like a hot bath. The horse whinnied happily. “Come on, let’s get out of here!”
Zoey ran towards the doors, and the fire horse’s hooves echoed behind her. When she arrived at the doors, she was beaming.
“Why did you rescue the horse?” asked Simon. “We don’t need glue?”
“Because horses shouldn’t be caged,” she said disapprovingly. “They should be free.”
The fire stallion neighed loudly as though approving what Zoey had said. She smiled even more broadly when the horse flared its nostrils at Simon.
“We can’t get the doors open,” began Tristan. He still avoided looking at Zoey, and she felt ashamed again.
Simon kicked the doors angrily.
“It’s useless, even with Tristan’s superhero strength. We need a stick of dynamite to blow up the doors. You wouldn’t happen to have one on you, would you?”
But then the fire horse brushed past Simon, and he jumped back in alarm.
“Hey! I’m sorry about the glue thing, honest.”
The horse ignored him and made for the doors.
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