Mystics 3-Book Collection (39 page)

Tristan rolled his eyes and laughed. “You
just had breakfast at your house, dummy.”

Simon swallowed the rest of the pancake.
“I’m still hungry. You can’t just let me starve. I’m a growing boy.
My bones need feeding. I’m like a puppy that needs to be fed every
few hours. You don’t keep food from a growing puppy, do you?”

He barked like a dog and then stuck out his
tongue.

“You’re a complete spaz.” Tristan turned to
Zoey.

“Hey, Zoey.”

His dark, almond-shaped eyes bore into hers,
and she felt a strange wallop in the pit of her stomach. Although
she quickly averted her eyes, her cheeks still burned. Because
Tristan was part mystic, she still felt a buzzing sensation when
she was around him, but not as much. It was as though her seventh
sense had become acclimatized to the mystics around her at the
Hive.

But with Tristan, there was something
more.

Ever since she had made the mistake of
asking whether or not Tristan had a girlfriend, simply to make
conversation in an already awkward situation, he’d looked at her
differently. He had a perpetual sparkle in his eyes, and a cocky
little smile at the edge of his lips. Did he think that she
liked
him? She still wasn’t sure of her feelings towards
him. She forced the thoughts out of her mind. She didn’t have time
to think about boys right now.

“So, what are you guys doing here on a
Saturday?” said Zoey. She could see Aria glancing at her table, and
she was glad Simon had eaten the rest of the pancakes.

Simon dipped his finger in the maple syrup.
“My parents woke me up early this morning. They were having a very
loud argument. Naturally, the entire house had to hear it. So I got
up and came over here for breakfast.”

“What were they arguing about?” asked
Zoey.

“Agency business,” said Simon as he licked
his fingers. “I don’t know what exactly, but by the looks my dad
was giving my mother, it looked serious. I couldn’t fall asleep
after he left. So I called Tristan—”

“Like ten times,” said Tristan, glaring at
Simon.

“Well, you weren’t picking up,” said Simon
innocently.

“Because I was
sleeping
.”

Simon lifted the maple syrup bottle to his
lips and poured some of the golden liquid into his mouth. His eyes
widened. “Wow, that’s
sweet
. I thought we could all hang out
today. The new
How to train your Zombie
movie is playing at
the MegaPlex Theatre. I’m in the mood for dead things. It’s weird,
but somehow zombie movies make me hungry.”

“Sorry, I can’t.” Zoey pushed her chair back
and stood up. The look on Tristan’s face had her stomach in knots.
“I have some stuff to do today,” she blurted, not knowing what else
she could say. “Maybe next time, okay?”

“What stuff?” pressed Tristan. “Every
weekend it’s the same. You’re always too busy to do anything.
You’ve been busy for the past month, too busy to spend time with
your best friends.”

Zoey felt the blood rush to her face again.
Lying to strangers to get herself out of trouble was a piece of
cake, but lying to people she cared about was a completely
different matter—it was nearly impossible. She hated lying to her
friends, but she had no alternative. She wasn’t ready to tell them
yet. Part of her was afraid they wouldn’t understand…

“Guys! I’m seeing double,” said Simon,
blinking continuously. “I think I’ve had too much sugar. Something
weird’s happening to me…guys? Oh my god! I think I’ve developed
type two diabetes.” A bit of drool dripped from the corners of his
mouth. “What are my parents going to say?”

Zoey grabbed Simon’s face with her hands,
stared into his eyes, and shook him gently.

“You don’t have diabetes, doofus,” she said
and then smiled. “Stop being so overdramatic. What you’re feeling
right now is called a
sugar-high
, that’s what happens to
people who take
way
too much sugar all at once. It’ll
pass.”

He continued to drool, so she let go of his
face and looked at Tristan.

“I just need a few hours by myself,” she
said.

It was as though Tristan was reading her
mind, like he knew she was making this up.

Her mouth was full of cotton balls as she
continued, “…To do the stuff I need to do, then maybe we can hook
up later?”

She hoped the icing she added would smooth
things over with Tristan, who was still eyeing her
suspiciously.

“What do you do in there anyway?”

“Nothing,” said Zoey, a little too
hastily.

Tristan raised his brows. “Well, it’s not
nothing, is it?”

His dark eyes bore into hers. “Why can’t you
tell us? Don’t you trust us?”

“Of course I trust you.” Zoey looked down at
the table. She didn’t like to hear the hurt in Tristan’s voice. And
then she thought of the only thing that would deter them. “It’s
girly stuff. Personal. I can’t talk to boys about it.”

“AH!” Simon poked his fingers in his ears
and shook his head. “Not listening. I’m not listening.” And then he
took off running through the inn with his fingers still in his
ears.

Tristan didn’t look convinced. “If you say
so. See you later then.”

He walked away slowly, and Zoey watched the
two of them disappear through the inn’s front door.

Zoey wanted to run after her friends to tell
them, but something held her back. In the corner of her eye she saw
Aria watching her, and she forced herself not to look.

Zoey rushed back up the stairs and shut the
door to her room. Still feeling like a jerk for lying to her
friends, she pulled out her DSM and concentrated.

And just like every Saturday for the past
month,
nothing
happened. But she wanted to understand more
about her powers, so she didn’t give up. She had to keep
trying.

Maybe today it
would
work…

With her reflection staring back at her
through her DSM, she thought of places she
knew
had anchor
points. She did not want to end up in Mrs. Dupont’s study, or
somewhere else unexpected like that.

She remembered when she, Tristan, and Simon
had mirror-ported to Troll City. She concentrated on Parrods, the
large department store in London. She hoped she’d turn up there, so
she could fill her pockets with mouthwatering candies. She
concentrated until she thought her skull would crack under the
strain, and her brain would leak out through her ears.

And then she waited…and waited…

Nothing. Not even a flutter from the
mirror-port. After about an hour her arm started to stiffen and her
head began to pound. She yelled out in frustration and closed her
DSM.

“Why aren’t you working?” she called out and
stomped her foot. “Come on! You worked before! What am I doing
wrong? This is
so
frustrating!”

“Zoey? Is everything all right?” Aria’s
voice sounded from behind her bedroom door.

Zoey’s breath caught in her throat. “Yes,
Aria, just practicing some defense moves,” she lied again.

There was a pause, then Aria’s voice sounded
again. “Well, try to practice a little less loudly.”

“Okay, sorry. I’ll be quieter. Promise.”

As soon as Aria’s footsteps tapered off,
Zoey went back to work.

It didn’t make sense. Why did it work that
time when she had thought of the interloper? Then she had ended up
in the hall and had overheard Mrs. Dupont and the late Agent Stokes
plotting against the Agency. What was so different about that time?
For weeks now she’d been racking her brain, trying to figure out
why she couldn’t do it again. What was it about that time? What was
she doing wrong? And then it hit her.

Maybe she was trying too hard. Maybe her
abilities didn’t work when she was stressed out. She realized that
when she had first thought of the interloper, it had just
popped
into her head. She hadn’t tried to
force
the
thoughts into her mind. They had appeared naturally.

She let out a breath and calmed herself. No
point in getting worked up. Slowly, she lifted her DSM up in front
of her again. This time she let her mind and body relax. She
steadied herself and tipped her DSM slightly to get all of her
reflection onto the mirror. She stood as still as she could. She
thought of nothing at first, and just concentrated on her breathing
and heartbeat. And slowly, very slowly, she let a single thought
pop into her mind. She didn’t know why that particular thought
appeared in her head—it just did.

A tingle rolled up her back. And then her
body shimmered. Her reflection shifted, and she watched her body
vanish. She started to spin very fast. With roaring in her ears,
she squinted to see. Blurred images moved before her eyes like
colored lines. She could smell baked bread and BBQ chicken. With a
final spin, her feet met solid ground, and her vision slowly
cleared. She steadied herself and looked around—

She stood in a large stainless steel
sink.

“ZOEY ST. JOHN! WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU DOING
STANDING IN MY KITCHEN SINK?”

Aria came storming towards her waving a
large pot in one hand, while the other three arms beat the air in
angry fists. She came to a halt in front of Zoey.

“And your shoes are filthy! What do you
think this is? A gymnasium? This isn’t a playground! You can’t
bring in all this dirt into my kitchen sink! What’s wrong with
you?”

Zoey felt the blood leave her face. Of all
the places in the world, she had to land in Aria’s spotless,
germfree kitchen.

Quickly, she hid her DSM behind her back and
searched for the anchor. She read the writing on the large black
board that hung above the sink.
A clean kitchen is a happy
kitchen, My Roast my Rules,
and
Harassing the cook will
definitely result in smaller portions
. Books were stacked on
the counter in neat piles, and a large kitchen knife that looked
more like a small sword was placed on a butcher block. But there
was no sign of an anchor anywhere. How did she get here? How did
she mirror-port into Aria’s kitchen sink without a proper anchor?
It had to be somewhere in the kitchen, she just couldn’t find it.
She met Aria’s bewildered expression and felt like a fool.

Food
was what had popped into her
head.

“Sorry, Aria, I—I didn’t mean to step in
your sink. It was a bad idea. I’m really sorry.”

Aria stared at her guilty face. “How did you
get in here anyway? I didn’t even
see
you come into the
kitchen! One minute I turn my back to get some ginger for my famous
Ghoul Ginger Soup and the next—here you are in my sink! How do you
explain that?”

Zoey fell silent for a second. “Uh…it—it was
a stupid prank. I thought I’d sneak in and surprise you.” She
forced a smile. “Surprise!”

By the way Aria was glaring at her, she
didn’t think she was buying her story. The woman’s gray skin
darkened. She looked like a great white shark ready to attack.

Zoey swallowed hard and shrugged. “I guess
the sink wasn’t such a good idea. I realize now it was a mistake.
I’m really, really sorry.”

Zoey looked away from Aria’s yellow
cat-eyes. She hid her DSM behind her back with one arm and climbed
down from the sink, careful not to touch the counter with her dirty
shoes. She was in enough trouble as it was. Her ears burned. She
felt bad about lying to Aria, but she still wasn’t ready to tell
anyone about her new-found skills - not until she had them more
under control. Part of her was still in shock because it had
actually worked this time, although she had no idea why it had.

“Why are you smiling?” demanded Aria, her
thin arms crossed over her chest. “You think this is funny, do
you?”

Zoey pressed her lips together, not
realizing she had been smiling. “Nope. I’m really sorry, Aria. It
was stupid idea. I promise I won’t do it again.”

“No, you will
not
do it again.” Aria
rushed past Zoey and examined the sink. “I’ll have to scrub it down
now. You’ve left some mighty dirty footprints in my once-spotless
sink.”

Zoey slid her DSM in her pocket. She stared
at the floor, feeling worse and worse by the second. Aria had been
kind to her ever since her arrival at the Hive, and she didn’t want
her to be upset.

“I’m really sorry,” muttered Zoey. Her eyes
burned.

Aria noticed Zoey’s uneasiness and her voice
softened. “Well, it’s not
that
big a deal. Don’t look so
gloomy. There are worse things in the world than a dirty sink. I’ll
have it cleaned up in a jiffy. Just don’t do this again, you hear?
I just don’t get you kids these days; when we were young we knew to
stay clear of our mother’s kitchen. We knew what was best for
us.”

Zoey felt the blood returning to her face.
“I won’t. Promise.”

“Keep your promises to yourself, Zoey,” said
Aria and she smiled, “Now run along, before I change my mind and
stick you in one of my mince pies.”

Relief spread through Zoey like a hot bath.
“You’re the best, Aria!”

Zoey sprinted out of the kitchen, but not
before she heard Aria mutter, “I don’t understand young people
anymore.”

Sevenths and Agents packed the dining and
living areas of the inn. Ever since the stolen interlopers had let
loose the mass of hostile mystics, the inn had been crammed all the
time. Every Agent was on edge. No one knew for certain how many
illegal mystics had crossed over, or
which
ones.

Agent Vargas stood by the fireplace with a
cup of coffee. His imposing frame stood out amongst the others. He
was in conversation with a woman with long, silky, raven hair,
milky white skin, and a perfect face. She looked like a model from
the face cream commercials on television. The gleaming ruby ring on
her finger looked exactly like the ones she had seen on some of the
young Operatives’ fingers. It was a symbol of the Original
Sevenths.