She wondered what they thought of her now when they looked at her. She definitely didn’t feel like the same person she had been back at the foster home. She was stronger now and more confident. She had also gained a few extra pounds of much-needed muscle, thanks to the intense training and Aria’s cooking.
But when Zoey looked at Tristan’s partner, she glowered.
His icy blue eyes, like a husky’s or a shark’s made her want to punch him every time she saw him. Stuart King’s clothes were too perfect. His black hair was groomed to perfection, even his porcelain skin was annoyingly perfect—not even a hint of a pimple. He didn’t look like an OSC working out in the field—he looked like he was about to do a photo-shoot for a fashion magazine. His ruby ring in the shape of the letter O was too ostentatious. And to make matters worse, his OSC badge had been sewn on professionally. Zoey had sewn hers herself and had added glue just to be safe, but the edges had a tendency to curl upwards.
“Agent Vargas,” said Tristan as he reached the front of the big man’s desk. “We secured the Sagamite in Riverside, California. It’s locked up now in cell block #412—”
“Pfft. A Sagamite?” mocked Simon as he strolled around Tristan. “Those puny little critters that look like monkeys with antlers? That’s nothing. Me and Zoey caught—not one—but two giants single handedly. It was awesome. I was awesome. You and your superstar missed quite a show.”
Stuart glared at Simon, but Simon blew him a kiss.
Tristan turned and smiled at Zoey. “Two giants? Really? That’s impressive.”
Zoey nodded. “Two nasty and very smelly giants. I feel like having a shower just remembering their smell.”
Simon clasped his hands behind his back and circled Stuart, eyeing him suspiciously.
“And did his highness participate in catching the Sagamite—or did he watch safely from a distance?”
Stuart’s scowl deepened, but he kept his cool, which only added fuel to Simon’s insults. If it had been her, Zoey would have punched Simon already. But Stuart was his usual, calm, unreadable, and ice-cold self.
“Figures. You didn’t want to get your precious hands or expensive clothes dirty,” said Simon. “. . . So you made Tristan do all the work, and you hoped to get the credit, too? Well, your royal stuck-up-ness, I’ve got news for you, that’s not how it works here.”
Simon was dangerously close to Stuart’s face. If he leaned forward an inch, their noses would touch.
“Get lost, Brown!” A large vein throbbed on Stuart’s forehead. “Or I’ll do to you what I did to the Sagamite.”
Simon shot his arms in the air. “Wait a minute!”
He leaned closer and examined Stuart’s hands. “I see a bit of dirt under that fingernail. Hurry, call your manicurist—”
Stuart shoved Simon so hard that he crashed into a row of desks.
Simon recovered quickly.
“Off with his head!” he shouted and charged for Stuart like an angry bull.
“Enough!” bellowed Agent Vargas. Simon skidded to a stop but kept glaring at Stuart who sneered at him triumphantly.
“Are you little children or are you OSC?” Agent Vargas’s voice boomed against the walls like thunder.
Zoey cowered back. The room was suddenly very still and quiet. She could hear her heart drumming in her ears.
“Because right now you’re acting like spoiled, idiotic kids.” The agent’s expression darkened as he measured them each individually, and for a second, Zoey thought she and the others were about to join the giants and the Sagamite down in the basement.
“We’re about to live through very hard times—worse than anything this world has ever faced. This is no time for immature, childish games.”
He raised a large finger and pointed to Simon and Stuart.
“And you two better start behaving like agents or there’ll be trouble, I can promise you that.”
“Yes, sir,” said Simon. “Sorry, sir.”
Stuart remained quiet, but Zoey could see a smile on his lips. It was almost as though he felt that even Agent Vargas couldn’t touch him.
Agent Vargas crossed his arms over his chest. “Now, I want you two to shake hands.”
“What?” said Simon, and he nearly coughed out his own tongue. With his eyes bulging, he stood and pointed.
“You can’t be serious? No way. I’m not shaking his hand. He’s got cooties. Besides, he pushed me first. Let’s face it, we’re all thinking it—the guy’s a jerk.”
“You’ll shake his hand if you want to stay in this program,” warned Agent Vargas, his voice etched with irritation. Zoey knew Agent Vargas wasn’t a man to be trifled with, and she hoped Simon knew it too. If Agent Vargas wasn’t going to make Simon shake Stuart’s hand, she was going to make him do it. He was her partner, after all. She needed him.
Stuart jeered and raised his hand. “Come on, Brown. Don’t be such a baby. We’re all agents here, aren’t we? Or are you in a class of your own?”
“I’m not a baby,” growled Simon curling his hands into fists. “I’ll show you who’s a baby, you rotten sovereign wannabe—”
“Simon,” cautioned Agent Vargas, and he raised an eyebrow. “Control yourself. I’m warning you—don’t make me repeat myself—I hate having to repeat myself.”
Simon had a crazed look in his eye and didn’t seem to hear. He took another step closer to Stuart. “You scumbag, degenerate, deviant, dirt bag, sleaze ball, royal pain in my—”
“SIMON!”
Simon clamped his mouth shut, but Zoey could swear he whispered a few more insults.
Agent Vargas towered over him like a polar bear. “If we didn’t need every able body right now, I’d throw you in the cell blocks myself! Shake his hand, or so help me I will make you do it!”
Slowly, very slowly, Simon reached out and shook Stuart’s hand with a grimace on his face, like he’d just swallowed a raw onion. They didn’t look at each other, and both put as much distance as they could between one another after the shake. Simon wiped his hand on his shirt as though he still had some of the giant’s mucus on it.
Zoey caught Stuart’s eye as he leaned calmly on one of the desks. He smiled at her coldly like he had won some sort of challenge. This wasn’t over. If he wanted to play, then she was going to play hard.
“Now, can we get back to work, or do I have to send for bottled milk and blankets?” continued Agent Vargas. He eyed them dangerously, daring them to speak up.
“Good. Let us continue. I have here a handful of assignments for all of you.”
He strolled over to his desk and picked up a tablet computer. He touched the screen and then looked up. “Zoey, Simon, I’ve got a report of a Fluegen in Mexico City. Think you can handle that?” He looked at Simon.
“No problem.” Simon crossed his arms over his chest. His eyes darted in Stuart’s direction.
Zoey leaned forward and whispered to Tristan, “What’s a Fluegen?”
“They’re like giant frogs. They’re massive but really stupid,” he said with a smile.
Zoey leaned back and made a face. “Great, more big, stinky and slimy beasts—”
“Agent Vargas! Agent Vargas!”
Agent Ward ran into the room, her face flushed like she had just run a marathon. Her chin-length gray hair bobbed up and down as she crossed the room, and her bony legs scurried under her navy skirt suit. Her usual sergeant major scowl had been replaced by an urgent expression, like she had just discovered some troubling news.
Zoey was itching to find out what it was and strained to listen.
Agent Ward made her way swiftly to the front of the class and raised her arms.
“I’m sorry to disrupt your class like this,” she said a little out of breath as she straightened her black-rimmed glasses. “But I’ve just been with Director Hicks and—”
She turned and looked straight at Zoey.
Zoey felt like a fist had squeezed her heart. Whatever pressing news Agent Ward had learned, it had somethi
ng to do with her. She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. She could see Stuart smirking at her on the other side of the room.
Agent Ward’s face softened. “Zoey, you’ve been summoned to a very special meeting.”
“What kind of meeting?” Zoey was certain everyone in the room could sense her nerves.
Agent Ward moved closer to her. She took in a shaky breath and then said, “With the National Assembly.”
Chapter 4
The National Assembly
Tristan and Simon followed Zoey as she walked back towards the main hall. She had no idea what the National Assembly was. All that Agent Ward had said was, “It’s where all the top Agents and Directors of all our nations get together and discuss matters of the utmost importance—matters which concern us all.”
Refusing to go wasn’t an option. Zoey knew this had something to do with Mrs. Dupont and the Great Junction—for which Zoey still felt that she was partly to blame. Now portals were opening up all over the world, and she knew that whatever this meeting was about, she would soon discover just how bad things truly were. She had a horrible feeling that somehow the Agency knew she was a true original. Maybe they were going to lock her up and throw away the key before she could do anymore damage . . . .
She followed Agent Ward, and they stopped in front of a large silver oval mirror with the inscription, United Kingdom, at the top.
“So . . . we’re going to London, then?” Zoey said. “Is that where the National Assembly will be?”
She tried to sound excited, but her dread weighed on her.
Agent Ward ignored her and looked past Zoey, anxiously waiting for someone else to arrive. Perhaps more agents were going to join them on this trip? She hoped it would be either Agent Barnes or Lee. Or even better, both.
“Can we come too?” asked Simon as he and Tristan stood beside Zoey. “I mean . . . I’m sure we could help with . . . stuff . . . so . . . can we? Can we come?”
“Certainly not,” said Agent Ward. She turned around and glared at him. “This isn’t an Operative field trip, Simon Brown. This is very serious business—”
“And I’m a very serious guy,” pressed Simon as he straightened himself. He did his best to look composed, but it just made him look goofier than before.
Agent Ward pursed her lips but didn’t say anything. Zoey could tell that there was no way Simon would change the agent’s mind. But he wouldn’t give up. It was one of the reasons she enjoyed having him around—he was very persistent.
“Pretty please?” pushed Simon, and batted his eyelashes as though that was going to smooth things over with Agent Ward. “I’ve got loads of valuable information to share. I could—I could be of real service to you and the cause.”
“The cause?” chortled Tristan. “Is that what you’re calling this? The cause?”
After Simon elbowed him in the ribs, Tristan added. “Please, Agent Ward. I’m sure Zoey would like her friends with her. And like Simon said, I really think we could help.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible, Tristan,” said Agent Ward. “Only those invited and of high rank can attend the assembly. I’m sorry, but you can’t come with Zoey. You’ll see her when we get back.”
Zoey looked at Tristan and gave him a grateful smile, but he set his jaw, and his distressed expression made her feel even more nervous. She bit the inside of her cheek. She didn’t want to go to this assembly.
Loud footsteps sounded suddenly, and Zoey turned to see Director Hicks, and Directors Johnson, Martin and Campbell, coming towards her.
“Ah—I see you have collected Zoey, Agent Ward,” said Director Hicks, smiling cheerfully. “Very good, very good.”
He stroked his neatly trimmed white beard. He always seemed to wear suits that were two sizes too small. Today he wore a forest-green suit with a matching bow tie and looked like a retired professor.
He turned and smiled at Zoey. “I know this must seem very sudden to you, Zoey. Alas, we must go where we’re needed, mustn’t we?”
“I guess.” Zoey forced a smile.
As usual, Director Johnson’s expression was unreadable. His dark skin was pulled tight, and if he didn’t blink every now and then, Zoey thought he could pass for a human sculpture. Zoey lost her smile and hoped her eyes conveyed enough spite for both Directors Martin and Campbell to read. She hadn’t forgiven them for wanting to hand her over to Mrs. Dupont and her Alphas. In fact, she doubted that she ever would.
Director Martin’s pale, thin face with lines around his dark eyes made him look older than he was. He was stiff in his tailored black suit. Director Campbell looked bored. She had curled a strand of her chin-length blond hair behind her ear, and her bold polka dot red jacket and yellow pants made Zoey dizzy. They both avoided looking at Zoey, and that was just fine by her.
“Well, now that we’re all here,” said Director Hicks as he looked at his vintage watch, “we really should be going. We don’t want to keep the assembly waiting.”
He walked up to the mirror, reached out and typed on the keypad: Headquarters, Knightsbridge, London, England.
The mirror swirled. The green light at the top of the mirror flicked on with a pop. Directors Martin and Campbell were the first to step through, then Director Johnson and Director Hicks. Zoey stood rigidly as she watched them disappear.
“Zoey, let’s get a move on,” said Agent Ward gently. She beckoned Zoey with her hand. Agent Ward’s eyes softened. “Don’t worry, I’ll be right behind you.”
Zoey didn’t feel comforted. Simon smiled sympathetically, raised his right hand, and parted his fingers in the Vulcan salute. Tristan’s face was screwed up like he was about to be sick. This was not helping her at all.
She forced down the panic that made her want to run, exhaled a shaky breath, and stepped into the churning surface of the mirror.
Lights flashed behind Zoey’s eyelids. Her body was stretched and pulled like elastic. Just before she was actually sick, fresh air moved around her, and her feet touched firm ground. The nausea dissipated, and when she opened her eyes her jaw fell open.
She stood in a great cathedral of a hall, five times the size of the main hall in the Toronto Hive. Hundreds of glistening mirrors lined the walls like jeweled picture frames in a prestigious gallery. A giant crystal chandelier lit the room like a miniature sun, and the polished floors gleamed and sparkled. The hand-carved moldings and old-world ambiance made the room feel like a ballroom in a castle. It was a pretty awesome room.
The last time she had set foot in this place, bodies had smoldered in the wreckage of shattered mirrors, chunks of marble floor, and plaster. She could still remember the smell of burnt flesh and blood. The room was now restored to its former glory.
The mirrors hummed as throngs of agents and mystics stepped out and made their way through a labyrinth of passageways and stairs.
Agent Ward stepped out of the mirror and immediately noticed the expression on Zoey’s face.
“Magnificent, isn’t it. There isn’t another Hive in this world like it; it’s simply breathtaking.” She straightened her jacket. “Come along now, Zoey, they’re waiting for us.”
With her chin in the air, Agent Ward strolled across the room towards the other directors. She moved surprisingly fast, and Zoey had to jog to keep up.
“Ah, here we are,” said Director Hicks cheerfully when Agent Ward and Zoey arrived. “I’ve just received a message that Director Patel awaits us in the assembly hall.”
“Director Johnson,” he turned towards the tall dark man. “Please escort our little party. I’d like a word with Zoey first. We’ll catch up with you later.”
Zoey’s heart thumped like a jackhammer against her rib cage. What was that about?
Director Hicks turned to Zoey.
“Zoey, I know this is all very untoward and sudden. It’s not every day that a young girl like you gets to speak before twelve of the most powerful Sevenths in this world. It’s an honor, but it can also be a burden. D
o you catch my meaning?”
Zoey hesitated. “I’m not sure that I do.” She shook her head. “Nope. Definitely not.”
“When I was a young agent,” began Director Hicks. Zoey tried to imagine him thin and young, but it wasn’t working.
Director Hicks continued, “I would have given anything to be part of something so grand, so important. Whatever might be said today, I don’t want you to feel responsible—”
“You mean the portals?”
Director Hicks nodded solemnly. “Yes . . . and no.”
He looked away for a second.
Zoey thought she saw a flash of great sorrow in his eyes, as if he were escorting Zoey to her own execution. It scared her. There was something the director wasn’t telling her. What was going on?
Zoey felt a slight tremor under her Converse sneakers. Were there earthquakes in London? Maybe they were close to a subway station?
Director Hicks’ fingers twitched at his sides, and Zoey could see beads of sweat on his forehead as he looked around nervously. Something was definitely upsetting him. But what?
“Okay . . . I’m definitely not following you,” said Zoey finally.
“Director Hicks, is there something you’re not telling me? I can handle it, trust me.”
Director Hicks gave her a quick smile. “I know you can, Zoey. But please listen carefully. In a few minutes, you’re going to learn exactly what’s been happening from the mouths of the most powerful men, women, and mystics of our society. They’re going to ask you a few questions—”
“I can handle a few questions.”
Director Hicks sighed. “Questions about what happened with Mrs. Dupont. More precisely, they’re going to ask you about the events leading up to the Great Junction.”
He saw Zoey’s face fall, and he put a hand gently on her shoulder. “I just didn’t want you to be taken by surprise. The assembly can be quite intimidating.”
Mystics 3-Book Collection Page 51