Mystics 3-Book Collection (43 page)

“I can think of someone who would do this,”
began Simon, but he shut his mouth when he saw the cross expression
on Zoey’s face.

The man stared coldly at them.

“He’s just kidding,” interrupted Tristan.
“Aren’t you, Simon?”

He nudged him in the ribs.

“Oh, right,” stammered Simon, his face
turning scarlet, “I’m just a dumb teenager. I like to pretend I
know stuff when I actually don’t.”

The man studied them for a moment, his
piercing eyes like X-ray vision. “I don’t recognize you Operatives
from this Hive,” he said, eyeing them suspiciously, “Which Hive are
you kids from?”

There was an awkward silence, then Zoey
blurted out, “We’re from the Hive in New Jersey.” She prayed he
couldn’t see through her lie, glad her voice was steady.

The man raised his eyebrows, and Zoey felt
her stomach drop. “Well,” he said after a long pause, “let me give
them a call and arrange for your safe return. It seems this black
oil has not only affected our mirrors; it has also affected our
borders. Sevenths children are not safe. You’re all targets now.
Wait here.”

He walked away, leaving them staring after
him.

Tristan lowered his voice. “I’ll give him
five minutes before he realizes that we’re not from the New Jersey
Hive.”

Simon was pulling his scarf nervously.
“We’ll be expelled if they find out we sneaked out without
permission!”

Something was nagging Zoey. “Guys, what did
that man mean by the
borders
are affected? What borders is
he talking about?”

Simon looked over his shoulder then lowered
his voice again. “The Hive borders. It’s like an energy field that
protects the Hives. It makes them invisible to hostile mystics,
like the ones that crossed over with the help from that crazy
woman. If the borders are gone, then the Hive’s vulnerable to enemy
attacks.”

“Without the borders as added protection,”
added Tristan, “the hostiles will be able find the Hives.”

He stopped, alarmed. “They’re going to
attack us.”

Anger boiled inside Zoey. “Mrs. Dupont did
this. I know she did.”

“Maybe,” said Tristan, “and maybe not. But
right now we need to get out of here.”

Zoey felt her stomach churn. It was her
fault they were stuck here. “There’s got to be another way to get
back to our Hive. Do you guys have any money on you? We could maybe
take the bus back. I doubt we can afford a plane ride.”

Tristan shook his head. “A bus ride back
will take at least seven hours. And the last time I checked, we
needed passports to cross the border into Canada. Sevenths don’t
have passports. We never needed them before.”

“Right,” said Zoey. “Forgot about that.”

“I know of another way,” said Simon,
brightly. “A much faster way.”

Zoey glanced behind them and spotted the man
in the suit. He was coming their way fast. He looked like he was
about to scold them. “Well, you’d better say it fast—the dude’s
coming back, and he looks angry.”

“Mystic cab.”

Zoey stared at him. “Mystic cab? There are
mystic taxis?” She looked at Tristan, who shrugged.

“Never heard of them.”

“Of course you haven’t,” said Simon looking
very pleased with himself. “Told you I’m the one with the brains
here. It’s an emergency service for the agent in need. I heard my
parents talk about it last year…and you know me, I always keep my
ears open for opportunities.”

“You know how much a taxi is going to cost
to drive us all the way back?” said Zoey.

Simon smiled. “Trust me, we don’t need any
money. But we need to be outside to hail one.”

“Uh—guys,” said Tristan, motioning behind
him.

“YOU THREE! STAY WHERE YOU ARE!” shouted the
man in the suit. His face was sweaty and red.

Zoey looked around for an exit and spotted
elevator doors at the other end of the chamber.

“There! The elevators! Hurry!”

They sprinted towards the elevators like
wild horses.

“STOP THEM!” the man in the suit cried,
waving his arms in the air frantically.

The agents and mystics in the chambers
looked away from the mirrors and saw the running children. They
joined the chase.

But Zoey and the others were faster. They
clambered into the elevator, and Tristan smacked his hand on the
lobby button just as a wave of agents was upon them. With a
ding
, the doors slid shut.

“Thanks for the tour!” laughed Simon.

After a short ride, the elevator doors slid
open, and they raced towards the exit, pushed open the tall glass
doors, and scrambled into the street.

Zoey gasped as she looked around. They were
surrounded on either side by the tallest buildings she’d ever seen,
taller even than the ones in downtown Toronto. They soared into the
air and their tips disappeared into the blue sky above them. City
cars rushed by, honking impatiently. A few messenger bikes
zigzagged their way through and around the moving cars. The air was
a mix of roasted nuts and exhaust. Crowds of people rushed by them,
ignoring them completely, just like in any big city. An icy wind
caught Zoey’s jacket, and she quickly zipped it up.

“We can’t stay here like sitting ducks,”
said Tristan, glancing inside the building. “They’ll never find us
if we blend in with the rest of the Mutes.”

“Great idea, Hulk.” Simon looked around. “I
need a secluded spot to hail our ride, so any place where nobody
can see us.”

“Come on, let’s go down this street and see
where it leads.” Tristan led the way, and just as Zoey stepped in
to follow, a shape appeared in the corner of her eye.

Zoey froze.

A nine-foot tall creature stood in the
middle of the sidewalk. It had milky white eyes, a black hole for a
mouth, and rough sand-colored skin. Its limbs were unusually long,
almost like a primate. But the strangest part was the skin. Sand
rippled down its body like water. It wore no clothes except for a
long cloak, also made of sand. It carried a staff, and stared at
Zoey with milky eyes.

She looked around. The people didn’t see it.
They walked past it without even a glance.

Then, out of the mass of humanity, five more
of the creatures emerged and lined up, facing them.

“Zoey, what is it?” began Tristan as he
turned around. He stopped when he saw them.

Zoey looked at Tristan. “What are they?” she
asked.

“Sand people,” said Simon. He stepped in
between them. “I guess that’s what the agent meant when he said
that we were targets now. This is
very
bad.”

Zoey had never heard of Sand people. By the
looks of them she was certain they weren’t friendly. Goose bumps
rose on her skin. “What do they want?”

As if the Sand people had heard her, the one
with the staff raised a long gangly finger and pointed to them.

“Us.” Simon swallowed hard. “For banishing
them to the Nexus. If they catch you, your soul dies, and you
become a Sand creature, too. I heard that they broke into a Hive
once and killed—turned everyone there into Sand creatures. Maybe
these guys are former agents.”

Zoey kept her eyes on the creatures, her
stomach twisting. “I didn’t bring my boomerang with me. You guys
have weapons on you?”

Tristan and Simon both shook their
heads.

Zoey’s heart hammered in her chest. “So what
do we do—?”

All at once the Sand people opened their
mouths with a crack of thunder, their jaws elongated until they
reached the middle of their abdomens, and sand spewed from their
mouths like a jet of water from a fire hose.

“RUN!”

They tore down the street, crashing and
tripping over Mutes as they went. Zoey’s boots were heavy and not
for running. Her thighs burned as she ran behind Tristan, who was
two steps ahead of her. She could hear Simon’s heavy breathing
behind her. Together they jumped over a bench, zigzagged through a
crowd of Japanese tourists, and kept running.

A tall green and white sign read,
34
^th
Street West
. They ran
through the streets of downtown Manhattan. The cold air burned
Zoey’s lungs. She chanced a look behind her—

The six Sand people ran behind them so fast
that their movements were blurred. One second they were in one
spot, and in the blink of an eye they had moved yards from their
original spot, leaving puffs of sand where they had been seconds
before. As Zoey realized that they could never outrun them, she
slowed down inadvertently.

A Sand person shot a mass of sand towards
her. But just as the sand crystals grazed her cheeks, a strong hand
pulled her out of the way.

“DON’T STOP!” yelled Tristan, as he pushed
her in front of him.

Her cheek seared in pain, but Zoey strained
on. She tried not to think about what would have happened to the
rest of her if Tristan hadn’t pulled her out of the way in time.
These weren’t like any mystics she’d ever seen—these were the ones
that had been condemned to stay in the Nexus forever.

“My legs are not built for sprinting long
distances! We need to lose them!” screeched Simon as he ran beside
them.

“How do we lose them?” gasped Zoey, careful
not to spit out a lung.

“I don’t know! I can’t think of
everything
!” screeched Simon.

“Stop talking and keep running,” urged
Tristan.

Simon’s face was turning a nasty shade of
purple, and Zoey knew that she couldn’t run much longer either.
They needed to lose them fast.

A blast of sand just missed Zoey and hit a
man to her left. It enveloped him like liquid mud. The man opened
his mouth in a soundless scream, and the sand entered his body
through his mouth, eyes, and ears. He started to shake. His skin
broke out in sores, and then he exploded into a cloud of sand.
Moments later he had become another Sand person.

Zoey was almost sick. This could have
happened to her.

“Don’t look! Keep running!” pressed Tristan
as he dragged Zoey and Simon onward. “This way! Come on!”

They followed Tristan as he skillfully
dodged past the people, cars, and buses, and finally veered into a
side street. Apart from three rats the size of large house cats
feasting on last week’s garbage, it looked deserted.

Zoey looked behind her towards the main
street. “I think we’ve lost them.”

“No, we haven’t,” said Tristan, following
her gaze. “But we’ve got a little time before they find us…so you’d
better do whatever planning to do now, Simon.”

“Right,” said Simon. He searched his pocket
and pulled out a small green business card with an inscription on
it that Zoey couldn’t read. “Get ready. This is going to be
amazing.”

Zoey glanced up the street. “Hurry up,
Simon!” She shivered at the thought of those milky white eyes.

“Here goes nothing.” Simon arched his back,
lifted his right leg up, and threw the card into the air like a
baseball pitch. The card flew two feet and then spiraled down onto
the ground.

Tristan glared at Simon. “What the heck was
that? This is your plan? We’re all going to get toasted by the Sand
creatures any minute now.”

Zoey stared at Simon, perplexed. “What were
you expecting by throwing that little itty bitty card in the
air?”

Simon scratched his head. “That’s what I
heard them say -
you just have to throw the card in the
air.
”

He shrugged. “Maybe we have to wait a
little—”

“We don’t have
time
to wait!” Tristan
gritted his teeth. “This is a stupid plan. We should go back to the
Hive and take our chances.”

“Who’re you calling stupid, muscle-head?”
spat Simon. The tips of his ears turned red. “I didn’t see you give
any ideas. It’s called
thinking.
You should try it
sometime.”

“Shut up! Both of you.” Zoey stood between
them. “This isn’t exactly helping us—”

A giant gust of wind pushed her sideways,
and she had to steady herself. For a moment nothing happened. Then
there was a loud
bang
, and a cloud of green smoke appeared
above them in the alleyway. The cloud floated down to the asphalt,
and a circular craft emerged from the green smoke.

It was smoky green, and looked like a cross
between an old 1950s Ford Sedan and a flying saucer, except that it
was woven out of the smoke, and it looked like you could walk right
through it. A yellow light above the hood flashed with the words:
A-LEE-AN Taxi Express
.

The words printed on the door read,
UFO
service, for the Agent in need
, and
1-800-UFO
. The
passenger window rolled down, and a grayish humanoid with oversized
yellow eyes, two slits for nostrils, and a tiny mouth stuck its
head out. It was wearing a black T-shirt with a large green alien
head on it. The words
Abductions happen!
were written in
green across its chest.

“Where to, little agents?” said the alien in
a Brooklyn accent.

Zoey looked at Simon, flabbergasted. “It’s
an alien,” she whispered. “A
real
one.”

Simon beamed and walked over to the
chauffeur.

“To the Hive in Toronto, please,” Simon
said, “and make it fast. There are Sand people after us.”

“Right away, little man. Hop in,” said the
alien. He leaned forward, pressed a dial with his long bony
fingers, and the back passenger doors flipped open.

“That’s an alien—a real alien.” Zoey had
frozen on the spot.

The alien fixed his yellow eyes on her. “I’m
an Al
ee
an, spelled with a double ‘
ee’
, not
alien
, little lady,” said the cab driver, a little annoyed.
“The term ‘alien’ is used to describe the illegals—I’m perfectly
legal—got my papers and everything. I’m as right as rain.”

Zoey shook her head.

“No, I’m sorry, I meant…” she thought about
how to phrase this better, “…you know, the little green men from
Mars? Aliens?”