Tristan had the goofiest smile on his face. “If that’s what I get for bailing you out of trouble - then please let me bail you more often.”
Zoey pushed him away playfully, mortified that she had actually kissed him. What was wrong with her? She didn’t kiss boys. Silly girls did that.
Simon cleared his throat as he struggled to keep his mustache in place. “I hate to kill your big Casablanca moment, but we’d better get out of here before the old man figures out he’s been played.”
Zoey glanced past Simon. Agent Wise had his glasses on and was reading the note.
“How did you get an order?” she asked.
“I didn’t,” said Simon, with a cheeky grin on his face, “It’s my mother’s grocery list.”
“Guys, get ready, here he comes,” said Tristan.
Agent Wise marched up to them, waving the piece of paper over his head. His face was wrinkled in fury.
“Is this your idea of a joke? This is no order form! It’s just a grocery list.”
He glared at them. “Who are you? I want names. You’d better start explaining yourselves. I’ll be reporting this to your superiors! You’ll be expelled for this.”
“RUN!” ordered Tristan, with a mischievous glint in his eyes. The three of them galloped past Agent Wise, who raised a fist at them, and dashed through the chamber doors.
“This is not protocol!” Zoey heard Agent Wise bellow as she scrambled up the stairs to the first floor.
They flattened themselves against the wall, and slowly Tristan peered around the corner.
“There’s no one in the hallway. Let’s go.”
They sneaked across the main hall and ran down the next corridor. They slowed down to catch their breaths.
“Well, that was exciting,” panted Simon. “What do we do now? My brain could only do one break-in at a time.”
Zoey laughed. “Please take that ridiculous mustache off. I can’t take you seriously with it, Agent Bond.”
“Seriously?” said Simon. “And I thought the ladies would like it. Don’t you think it makes me more macho? I thought the ladies liked a little bit of fur!”
“No,” said Tristan. He turned to Zoey. “What do you want to do now? The old man will probably have alerted the Agency by now.”
“If he can find the button to press,” said Simon, pulling off his mustache and pocketing it.
“We can’t hide you in the Wander Inn,” continued Tristan, “Aria will be expecting it. Maybe we could go hide in the nearest village until things calm down—”
“No. I need to prove to everyone that I didn’t do this.”
“How do you plan on doing that?” asked Simon. “They wouldn’t even listen to us.”
Zoey peered around the corner. “I need to speak to Agent Franken first. He’s the only one who knows how to find the antidote. I think if I can speak to him I might be able to figure something out. I need to clear my name. I won’t get another shot at this. The time is now.”
Tristan nodded. “Okay, we’re coming with you.”
They sprinted down the corridor.
“HEY! STOP!”
Agent Ward and Director Martin came running towards them from the other direction.
“Stay where you are!” bellowed Agent Ward. Her face was the color of a beet.
“Hurry!” yelled Zoey.
They sprinted down the corridor away from their pursuers, rounded a corner, and arrived at a great metal door with a sign that read Militia and Defense, Room 1B
“Quick! Get in! Get in!” Zoey held the door open. Tristan and Simon slipped through. She bolted it shut behind them.
“We’re definitely going to get expelled after this,” said Simon. “My parents are going to disown me.”
“You’re making this much worse for yourself, Zoey.” Director Martin’s voice came from the other side of the door. “Open this door right now!”
She pounded on the door.
“Zoey!” called Agent Ward. “You open this door at once! You hear me?”
“I have a feeling this isn’t going to end well,” said Tristan, as he leaned against the door.
Part of Zoey wanted to open the door. But she knew that the only way to prove that she was not responsible for the attacks was to find the antidote and the culprit. She already had a pretty good idea who was behind the attacks, but first she needed to find the antidote.
Zoey ignored the pounding and shouting, and turned away from the door. She crossed the room in near silence; the only sound was the tread of their boots and the muffled voices from behind the door. She saw the large ornate white mirror and her stomach twisted. Instead of the beautiful gleaming crystal-like mirror she remembered, it was a diseased, soiled and disgruntled mirror. It stood in a puddle of black liquid, the oil still dripping slowly from its center, like a bloody wound that couldn’t heal. It was almost as though the mirror was alive, but now it was slowly dying of some horrible disease.
Agent Franken sat in his glass and metal cubicle at the back of the room. He was still wearing his HAZMAT suit and peering through a sophisticated-looking microscope. Paper and small square mirror shards covered his desk. The mirrors were clear and hadn’t been infected by the black oil. As Zoey stepped forward, she could see traces of the black oil on his fingers.
“Agent Franken,” said Zoey in a clear voice.
“I’m busy,” replied Agent Franken, still looking through his microscope. “What do you want?”
Zoey shared a worried look with Simon and Tristan. “I want to help the Agency,” she said, and then moved closer. “I want to find the antidote.”
Agent Franken shot up from his seat and nearly fell. His eyes widened at the sight of Zoey. “You! You! You!”
“Her, her, her—ouch!” said Simon, as Tristan elbowed him.
Agent Franken stared at Zoey like she was the next best thing to discovering butter.
“You’re the girl, the one they say is conspiring with the enemy!” he said in a squeaky voice. Then he frowned. “I thought they had locked you up! How did you get in here?” He looked around as though expecting to see someone else.
“They let me out for a bathroom break,” she lied.
She hoped he was deaf enough so that he couldn’t hear Agent Ward’s voice still yelling through the chamber door. “And I thought I’d come to see you before going back. You see, I think you can help me—us.”
“And how do you figure that?” Dark circles marked Agent Franken’s troubled eyes. His face was drawn, and he looked much older. He stared at her just a little too long.
“I’m very busy at the moment. Not only are we faced with more illegals crossing into our world, but also the global infrastructure that allows humans and mystics to coexist is under threat itself. A breakdown of this carefully maintained system could erupt into worldwide chaos and could eventually lead to the apocalypse. So, if you children don’t mind I have more important things to do.” Agent Franken returned to his work.
“Do you think I poisoned the mirrors?” asked Zoey. “Do you think I’m responsible for all this?”
Agent Franken looked up and sighed. “No, but I think you’re hiding something. I saw it on your face.”
“Maybe, but it’s not what you think. I only want to help.”
Agent Franken wrinkled his brow. “Even if you wanted to help, how do you plan on getting the antidote? The mirrors don’t work. We’re stranded here. And you can’t use public transportation, it’s too risky. You’ll be killed. It’s impossible.”
Zoey knew that she needed to tell him the truth. He wouldn’t be very forthcoming unless she did. And if she were to find the antidote, she would need his help.
“It is true,” said Zoey. “I am hiding something. I wasn’t ready to share it…but now I see that I don’t have a choice. I think I can help because I can manipulate the mirrors myself. I’ve already done it twice.”
Zoey thought Agent Franken might laugh, but instead he looked at her with great wonder.
Zoey nodded. “Yes. Yes, I can.”
“I wonder…” said Agent Franken. He swung off his chair awkwardly and moved towards Zoey to examine her more closely. “Can you show me how you do it?”
Blood rushed to Zoey’s face. “Well, I’m not really good at it yet. And it doesn’t always work.”
Agent Franken looked up at Zoey. “But how does it work? How do you do it?”
Zoey shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny.
“I open the DSM. And then I concentrate really hard on a place that has an anchor point…” she hesitated, “…but then I was able to mirror-port into Aria’s kitchen—I know there isn’t an anchor there. I don’t know how that happened. So you see, I’m not very good at it.”
“On the contrary,” said Agent Franken. “You’re very good at it.”
“I am?”
“Yes, because you can create your own anchors.”
Simon and Tristan looked at each other.
“She can what?” said Simon.
Zoey stared down at the little man, not sure she had heard him correctly. “Did you just say that I—that I can create anchors?”
“That’s what I said. That’s what mirror-manipulators can do - they don’t need stable anchor points to mirror-port. But why didn’t you tell Management about your abilities? You could have been cleared about the black oil.”
“Because of my mother.”
Agent Franken watched her for a moment but didn’t say anything. Then he waddled slowly towards the large broken mirror. His suit constricted his movements as though he was moving underwater. He bent down slowly and drew a sample of the oil into a syringe. Then he made his slow way back to his cubicle and climbed up onto his chair.
Zoey realized that it was true. She could create her own anchor points. It was the only explanation that made sense. Both Simon and Tristan looked at her with awe. She felt elated. She wasn’t the Drifter anymore - she was special. It felt amazing. But there was still something she needed to do.
She hurried over to Agent Franken, who was pouring drops of black oil into a small vial.
“Agent Franken,” she said, “will you help me find the antidote? What do I look for?”
“Forget about that! It’s too dangerous.”
“I can’t,” said Zoey. “If I can find the antidote, then I can fix this. I can fix the mirrors and bring back order to the Agency. And then I can clear my name.”
She swallowed. “Please, Agent Franken, what can you tell me about it? At least let me try to find it. Just tell me what I need, please. Will you help me?”
Agent Franken looked up and sighed. “From what I can tell, the virus is of mystic-origin. The components are not of this dimension. It has been cleverly designed to resist all my serums. What I do know is that the virus originated right here.”
He pointed to the large mirror, “While I was away someone came in and infected it with this vile black oil. The cure would have to originate from the source itself—before it became a poison. I would need a vial of that original component, and then I believe I could reverse the damage. Simply by creating a bacteria.”
Zoey remembered something else. “And what about the borders?”
“It’s the same with the borders. The borders are controlled by a substance like the one that controls the mirrors. It’s made from the same mystic source. Think of the borders as a giant mirrored sphere that reflects or echoes any mystic senses away from the Hives and makes us invisible to them. The infection spread from here to the borders. Everything is connected, you see. Whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing. Every hostile mystic in our world will be able to find us now, and I’m afraid it will be very soon. We’ve never been very popular with them.”
“So, hypothetically, a sample from the original source could cure the mirrors and the borders?” asked Zoey.
“Hypothetically, yes.”
“So, all we need is a sample from the original black oil. We create an antidote and then all our problems are solved,” said Simon, seeming pleased. “Doesn’t seem too hard.”
Agent Franken shook his head. “You don’t understand, young man; it’s not that simple. You cannot find the original source because it would only exist in the Nexus. The M-Mat is mystic technology that we took thousands of years ago. The only thing that could destroy it would be an element conceived by the same substances that created the technology in the first place…in the Nexus. Agents cannot cross into that world without meeting their doom. That is why it cannot be done. I’m afraid we can’t do anything about it, we are doomed.”
“But, hypothetically, there’s still a chance if we get our hands on the source,” said Zoey.
“No, there isn’t. This is madness. Haven’t you been listening to what I’ve been saying?” said Agent Franken.
Zoey smiled. “Give me a vial.”
Agent Franken shook his head but handed Zoey a small glass vial with a rubber top.
“I don’t know why I’m giving you this. You can’t enter the Nexus, child. You will die.”
“I don’t have to,” said Zoey. “You are right, the virus probably originated in the Nexus…but it’s not there anymore. It’s in our world now, and I’m going to get you the sample you need for your antidote.”
Agent Franken studied her. “I’m not going to ask you how you came to this conclusion. I admire your courage, truly, but this isn’t a job for a child. You might be different from the rest of us; clearly you are, but what you are planning is suicide. Perhaps you believe that your abilities will give you a fighting chance, but the Agency won’t let you go. I’m afraid they’ll put you back into lockup when they find you here. As much as it sounds unfair, you must abide by the rules and regulations until this can be sorted out.”
“Never cared much about rules,” said Zoey. “And I won’t get you into trouble, Agent Franken, I promise. Thank you for the vial.”
She reached over his desk and grabbed a single mirror shard. “Can I have this too?”
“Sure,” said Agent Franken, looking puzzled, “but that’s an ordinary mirror, there’s no M-Mat activated in it. You can’t use it. I’m afraid the virus corrupted every single DSM.”
Zoey smiled. “It’s fine. Thank you.”
She looked up at Simon and Tristan. “You guys ready for another trip? It won’t be easy, and the most probable outcome is that we’ll get killed.”
“I love it when you talk adventure,” said Simon, his eyes wide. “Gets me all tingly inside.”
Tristan’s eyes were troubled. “You sure about this, Zoey? Do you really know what you’re doing?”
Zoey narrowed her eyes. “I think I do - and that’s good enough for me. I have to try. I can’t do nothing. There’s no time to waste. You heard Agent Franken - the hostiles will attack soon. The longer we wait, the worse it’s going to get.” She smiled at her friends. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you. Come on!”
The three of them ran back to the chamber door.
“I’ll distract them while you and Tristan make a run for it,” said Simon, slapping his mustache on again.
“Are you sure?” said Tristan. “I can distract them—”
“No need, I can do this,” said Simon, excitedly. “I’m Agent Bond, remember? The good-looking, resourceful, ever so stylish and charming special agent—everything I do looks cool.”
Zoey stifled a laugh and prepared herself. She would have to run past Agent Ward and Director Martin, who would still be outside the door, ready to wring their necks.
Bracing herself, she yanked the door open—but there was no one there.
But at the end of the corridor, a group of agents was under attack.
Chapter 10
Attack of the Headless Horsemen
“Well, looks like we have bigger problems, just FYI,” said Sim
on. His mustache fell off his face again as he watched the battle raging down the corridor.
“They’ve already found us,” Tristan looked at Zoey.
Agent Ward screamed.
“Come on, we have to help!” Zoey ran towards the fight.
Zoey, Simon, and Tristan rushed down to the end of the corridor and halted.
The main hall was a war zone. Volley after volley of silver fireballs the size of watermelons blasted past the agents, who just managed to duck out of the way. They hit the wall behind them with thundering booms. Plaster chunks fell to the ground as the wall went up in flames.
The smell of burned flesh and smoke rose all around them. Another volley of fireballs soared towards them like flaming arrows. Three agents leaped out of the way, but the fourth one wasn’t so lucky.
He swung at the fireballs with a gleaming golden sword. But the sword went right through the burning spheres like they were water. One of the fiery spheres hit him in the chest. A look of shock appeared on the man’s face and before he could scream his body was instantly engulfed in silver flames. It was as though his flesh and bones were made of mere paper. The flames consumed him instantly, and his body collapsed to the floor in a pile of black ash.
At first, Zoey couldn’t see what was attacking them through the turmoil of agents and smoke. She thought it might be more Daragons, like the dragon beasts that they had fought back at Agency headquarters. But she remembered Daragon fire being an orange-red color, not silver.
Then she heard the clanking of hooves hitting the floor. What was attacking the agents?
More agents rushed past them, shouting orders in a state of total panic.
And then Zoey saw them.
Five headless men riding great black steeds came galloping into the main hall. The huge horses were midnight black, with gleaming silver eyes and sharp pointy teeth, unlike any horses Zoey had ever seen. Sweat rippled across their muscled bodies, and their nostrils flared aggressively. Silver fire rose around them like mist.
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