Mystics 3-Book Collection
Page 53
Zoey felt lightheaded, and the room started to spin. She forced down the urge to throw up. This couldn’t be happening; she couldn’t be the cause of the end of the world . . . .
Director Patel stood up and raised his voice with alarm. “Neither world can survive a permanent portal. If we do not find a way to close it soon, both worlds will be destroyed.”
Chapter 5
The Contract
When Zoey woke up the next morning, everything from the previous day felt like it had been a horrible dream. It had to have been a dream. She, the little orphaned redhead, couldn’t be responsible for the end of the world, could she? It was too absurd to even think about. But there it was, as plain as rain. Zoey St. John had destroyed the world.
After unsuccessfully convincing herself that yesterday was just a bad dream, she shuffled down the stairs. She sat at her usual table and ate her breakfast like a zombie. Her limbs moved unconsciously, and she grunted now and then. When she tried to recall the morning, she didn’t remember eating at all.
Zoey pushed her plate away and stared out the window. Most of the snow had melted overnight, which was very unusual for Toronto. And now the red, pink, and yellow tulips at the borders of the Wander Inn were not their usual, brightly-colored selves. They had browned and rotted, as though the snow had thawed too quickly and somehow spoiled them. Things were definitely not normal. Signs of the Great Junction were creeping up on her, and she had a bad feeling this was only the beginning.
It was the first week of April, and spring was her favorite season—but even that couldn’t change her morbid mood. What were the seasons good for anyway if the world was going to end?
She opened the window, but she coughed as she inhaled a breath of what she expected to be fresh air. The air smelled strongly of sulfur, like the air itself had rotted.
She shut the window, and Aria waddled in and poured her some more orange juice.
“You hardly touched your food. Zoey? Are you listening to me?”
Zoey turned from the window. “I am.”
“You need to eat,” said Aria. Her yellow cat-like eyes showed her concern.
“I could make you something else if you want? How about some French toast? I know how much you love that.”
“No thanks, Aria,” said Zoey, and she forced a little smile. “I’m not hungry.”
She turned back and stared out the window again. How could she eat when she felt like throwing up all the time? She knew Aria cared about her, a rare commodity right now at the Hive. She felt a spark of warmth inside for just a second, before it got crushed by an overwhelming feeling of dread.
Aria put a hand on her shoulder.
“Zoey?” said Aria, her voice soft and comforting. “I know what you’re doing.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“You’re torturing yourself. You have to stop blaming yourself for what’s happening.”
Zoey shook her head. “You don’t get it. I did this—me. I’m responsible for all of it.”
One of Aria’s set of arms pressed firmly on her hips while the other two cupped Zoey’s face gently in her hands.
“Now you listen to me, young lady,” she began, and Zoey felt mesmerized by her yellow eyes and couldn’t look away even if she wanted to. “You have to stop this nonsense. You’re innocent in all of this. How can you be responsible for something you didn’t even know existed? Only a cruel and wicked person would want to destroy the worlds . . . and that’s not you. So stop this at once.”
Zoey looked over Aria’s shoulder. It seemed that every Agent in the Inn was listening in on their conversation. They all had the same look in their eyes—blame. She stared back at the table, feeling more miserable than before.
Aria let go of Zoey’s face. “You need to eat before going out there on your assignments—”
“Assignments?” laughed Zoey. “Do you honestly think they’re going to keep me on after all of this? Seriously? Even I’d get rid of myself if I could. It’ll be back to the foster system for me.”
Aria glared at Zoey. “Well, maybe with that kind of attitude they will. My mother used to say, ‘The most useless of all emotions is self-pity.’ Stop acting like a victim and do something about it.”
She turned on her heel and walked away.
Zoey thought that there was something strange in Aria’s tone. Was she implying something?
But just as she was about to ask Aria what she meant, Simon and Tristan walked into the Inn.
“Thought we’d find you here,” said Simon as he grabbed a chair. His face was full of expectation. He waited until Tristan was seated and then said, “Are you going to tell us what happened at the assembly or do we have to beat it out of you?”
Zoey looked at her friends’ smiling faces. She hated to disappoint them, but she recounted yesterday’s events as enthusiastically as she could anyway. Her voice cracked, but she continued her story till the very end. When she was finished, she sat and waited for them to say something, anything, before she burst into tears.
Tristan was the first one to speak. His voice was soft and gentle, “I know what you’re thinking, Zoey. But this isn’t your fault—”
“He’s right,” added Simon earnestly. He tore off some pieces of Zoey’s cold pancakes and ate them.
“We didn’t know the crazy woman’s plans,” he said with his mouth full. “I mean, how could we? She’s a psychopath. We’re normal. See what I mean?”
“But it still happened,” said Zoey.
She felt the tiny pieces of the breakfast that she had actually swallowed rise in her throat. She forced them back down. Her eyes burned, and she blinked repeatedly. She wouldn’t let herself cry in front of her friends, even though she knew they’d understand.
For a few moments there was an uncomfortable silence, as if her friends were afraid that if they spoke she’d start crying. She decided to spare them the painful silence and tried to change the subject.
“So, why are you guys here anyway?” she asked. She tried to keep her voice steady. “Shouldn’t you be reporting to Agent Vargas for today’s new assignments? I’m sure there’s a lot to do now with all these portals opening. Must be tons of illegal mystics that need to be caught.”
Simon and Tristan shared a look, and then Simon said, “Well, we’ve got some news to cheer you up!”
Zoey wanted to say, I doubt that, but she didn’t want to dampen Simon’s mood. Only a true friend would want to cheer her up. So instead she said, “What news?”
Suddenly the lights flickered, and the building cracked and moaned, as though some ghostly force were squeezing it. Zoey looked outside.
The blue morning skies had become dark with angry gray clouds. Trees swayed back and forth dangerously, as if a gusts of wind would snap them in half. Little whirlwinds of last fall’s leaves whipped across the grounds, chasing each other like cats and dogs. And then she saw something that made her blood turn to ice.
A sudden bolt of jagged red light flashed between the clouds like thin strands of godly hair. Red lightning. But Zoey knew there was no such thing as red lightning, so what was that?
She hid the terror in her face when she turned to her friends. “You were saying Simon? Simon?”
Simon tore his eyes from the window. He swallowed hard and said, “Thought you’d like to know that the Agencies are gathering special troops to try and stop the Great Jungle portal—”
“Great Junction,” interjected Tristan. He smiled at Zoey, and she forgot all her troubles for about two seconds.
“That’s what I said,” continued Simon, as he jabbed Zoey’s fork into a pancake and took a bite.
“They’ve already figured out where the portal is and they’ve set up a few anchor points that are close enough to it, but still hidden in case of possible threats—enter psychopath Dupont—anyway, they’re taking volunteers . . . like loads of them . . . like right now as we speak.”
Zoey sat up in her seat. “What are you talking about?”
Despite herself, Zoey laughed.
“You’re such a moron,” she said playfully and leaned forward in her chair. “Tell me everything you know.”
Simon looked over his shoulder and then lowered his voice. “Well, from what I’ve heard—”
“Overheard,” said Tristan, grinning.
“Doesn’t matter if it’s overheard. I heard it, didn’t I?”
Zoey sighed, but she felt like she was floating in her chair. “Simon, please continue before I explode. What did you hear?”
“Check this out,” said Simon, clearly enjoying himself with the bit of information he possessed. “Apparently, the agencies and their scientists have been attempting to shut down the Great Hole for weeks now, but they haven’t been able to. It’s like, dudes as smart as Agent Franken just can’t shut it down.”
“Because of Mrs. Dupont,” guessed Zoey.
Tristan shook his head. “Not exactly.”
Zoey scowled. “Please don’t tell me Mrs. Dupont has a twin?”
“No,” Simon made a face, “Great! Now I have a mental image of her and her freak show of a sister. Give a nerd a break.”
He shook his head and then added with a voice full of intrigue.
“You ready for it? Yeah?” He leaned over the table, “Because they figured out that the portals have to be closed on both sides.”
Zoey raised her brows. “So one here, and the other in the Nexus.”
“Exactly.” Simon drank some maple syrup like it was orange juice.
“The scientists came up with a secret weapon, but they don’t have the field training that agents do,” said Tristan squaring his shoulders.
“The scientists wouldn’t last a minute inside the Nexus, let alone get past Mrs. Dupont’s security on this side. Agent Barnes’s has seen it. He said that there are hundreds of armed Alphas protecting the portal. The agency’s trying to create teams with at least five agents accompanying each scientist. But not everyone wants to go—”
“Even if it means a chance to save our world before it gets sucked up by a giant black hole.” Simon gulped the last of Zoey’s maple syrup. “Pretty sad, isn’t it?”
Zoey stared at her friends. This was her chance to kill two birds with one stone: shut down the portals and save her mother. It was perfect. What Aria had said rang in her ears, Stop acting like a victim and do something about it. And that was exactly what she planned to do.
But something nagged at her. “So why isn’t the agency making agents go? Isn’t that part of their duty or something? I don’t get why they’re asking for volunteers?”
Tristan drummed his fingers on the table. “Because there’s no guarantee that it’ll work.”
“You mean because they might die.”
“Yup.” Simon swallowed the last of Zoey’s pancakes. “Everyone is saying it’s a suicide mission. I like those missions. Keeps me on my toes. You know what I mean?”
“Not really,” said Tristan, as he rolled his eyes. “Under normal agency regulations, Operatives under the age of eighteen aren’t allowed to volunteer for missions—”
“But since we’re not Operatives anymore, and these aren’t normal agency times,” Simon patted Tristan on the back, “Me and hot stuff here . . . signed up.”
Zoey smiled at her friends. This was what she was waiting for. She would have a chance to redeem herself and save the world in the process. Piece of cake.
Tristan flattened a piece of paper on the table. It was cream-colored and nearly completely covered in black writing. It reminded Zoey of the birth certificate she had hauled along with her for nearly fifteen years, except that this paper had a golden seal in the shape of a shield at the bottom. A long dotted line awaiting her signature was printed beside it.
With a smile that made her heart melt, Tristan said, “We’re going to get your mom back.”
He tossed her a pen. “All we’re missing is you.”
Chapter 6
A Quest for Volunteers
Zoey clipped her boomerang to her belt and followed Tristan and Simon. Her heart pounded against her chest like a jackhammer. She had gladly signed the contract, just briefly glancing at it, but now she feared the agency wouldn’t let her go. She was, after all, responsible for the Great Junction. What if they didn’t let her go? What would she do then?
She realized that she’d already made that decision. She would find a way to shut the portals down and save her mother, no matter what.
The air was unnaturally warm for early spring. It felt like summer, but there were no leaves on the trees, and the grass was yellow and brown instead of green. The smell of sulfur was even worse than she’d first thought, and she had to cover her mouth with her shirt. The dark gray skies and flashes of red lightning added to the gloom. Strong winds pushed her back, like invisible hands that didn’t want her to reach the Hive. Was the storm trying to tell her something? She ignored the dread in the pit of her stomach and plowed on.
Simon swung open the doors of the Hive, and Zoey let out a breath of surprise. The grand hallway had been transformed into a campaign headquarters.
Hundreds of agents and mystics in coats and heavy boots were gathered near the reception area. They were armed for war with swords, guns, axes, and other weapons Zoey had never seen before. Some were little older than Zoey and some were middle-aged. Others looked like they belonged in a senior’s home, not here preparing for battle. Shouts rang in the hall as angry agents argued with each other. She could see the fear in their eyes and sense the urgency in the room. She wasn’t the only one who could feel that the Hive and the rest of the world had changed.
Long lines of agents and mystics holding forms with gold seals just like Zoey’s waited by a long table. Directors Hicks, Johnson, Martin, and Campbell sat behind it.
Director Campbell took a contract from a bald man in his forties who was as tall and thick as Agent Vargas. She inspected the contract closely, and when she seemed satisfied that everything was in order, she struck the top of his hand with a heavy stamp.
“NEXT!” she called, and passed the signed contract to Director Johnson who entered the information on his laptop computer.
The next person in line, a small man with curly moss-brown hair and round glasses shuffled forward. Dressed in a dark suit and tie, he looked more like a banker than an agent. He stooped over the desk and twisted around nervously as he made up his mind whether or not to run. Zoey could sense the tension in the air.
She searched the faces in the crowd, hoping to see Agent Barnes or Lee, but they weren’t there.
Zoey waited in silence. She was happy to see so many had turned up, and she was sure that volunteers in Hives around the world were enlisting, too. She wondered if they would be enough. Who knew what waited for them on the other side of the Nexus.
A neon sign flashed above the one operating mirror in the hall. It read: Laggan, Scotland. Agent Ward stood by the mirror and inspected the hands of the volunteers to make sure they had been stamped properly. She frowned at the group of volunteers who were waiting in front of her.
“Where is your science officer? No team goes without an agency science officer—”
“We don’t need a science officer.”
Zoey heard a man’s voice. She turned around as a plump man with light brown hair, no chin, and large bushy eyebrows strolled forward. He walked as though he owned the place and everyone in it. His arrogant demeanor reminded her of Stuart, and Zoey immediately disliked him.
Agent Ward scowled at him. “What do you mean you don’t need a science officer? Don’t be foolish, man. Every team has to have a science officer! Those are the rules!”
The man sneered and lifted his hand for everyone to see. Zoey saw the ruby ring in the shape of the letter O around his pinky. It was just like the one Stuart and the rest of the Orig
inal wannabes wore.
“I’m a true Original descendant,” said the man, “as was my father and mother before me—and just like that girl over there.”
He smiled and pointed a fat finger at Zoey. His teeth sparkled like he had brushed with diamond toothpaste.
All eyes immediately turned on Zoey, and she wanted to melt into the wall. She disliked him even more now.
“A single drop of my Original blood, my fellow agents and directors,” continued the man, his smile widening with every syllable, “will close the portal.”
Volunteers crowded around to hear what the agent had to say.
Agent Ward raised her brow. “Is that so, Agent Ferguson? You think that a portal of this magnitude can be shut down by a simple drop of your blood?”
“Yes, my dear woman,” answered Agent Ferguson. “Speak to your scientists. They didn’t believe me either—but with enough convincing—and with this signed agreement—”
He flashed a piece of paper that looked like the volunteer contract but pocketed it before Zoey could see what it was.
“They all agreed that I didn’t require the assistance of a science officer—I have my own unique skills. If that girl could open the portal, my fellow Originals and I know that we can shut it down.”
A burst of applause rose in the hall, and the man bowed like he had just completed a theatrical performance. This wasn’t a laughing matter, and Zoey felt the urge to rush up to him and slap him to wake him up a little.
Agent Ward grunted. She wasn’t convinced either.
“Do you think he’s right?” whispered Simon.
Zoey tried to remember what Mrs. Dupont had said about why her blood was unique, but her memory of that event was a little hazy. All she remembered was that her blood was more potent. Maybe she had forced herself to forget how she had been used.
“Maybe,” she answered finally and shrugged. “I don’t know, but I guess it won’t hurt to try.”
“Bet it’ll hurt him if it fails,” suggested Simon.