Mystics 3-Book Collection (10 page)

Resolute, she followed the big man out of
the room and down the hall. As she marched behind him, her legs
felt like metal posts and didn’t want to move forward. She had to
concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other to keep up
with him. Despite the heat, a cold sweat gathered on her forehead
as she imagined a group of mad scientists poking and probing her
brain with glistening tools as they lobotomized her.

Before her panic could choke her, Agent
Vargas stopped in front of a great metal door and waited for her to
arrive. She put on her best poker face and joined him. The sign in
black letters at the top of the door read
Militia and Defense,
Room 1B

Leaning forward, she strained her ears but
she couldn’t hear anything from the inside, which was even more
unnerving. Her mouth was painfully dry.

“Every operative needs to be scanned,” he
said. “You can’t travel unless you’ve had a full body scan these
days.”

He reached inside his pocket and withdrew
two miniature beige cylinders.

“Put these in. You’re going to need them. I
wouldn’t want you to go deaf on your very first day.” He smiled,
but Zoey wasn’t reassured.

She stared at his palm. “Earplugs? Why do I
need earplugs?”

When he didn’t answer, she twisted them in.
The world around her dulled immediately, like when you stick your
head underwater. She noticed that Agent Vargas didn’t use any
earplugs.

He turned the doorknob. Zoey braced herself
and followed him in.

The noise hit her first, even with the
earplugs. It was like stepping into a war zone. Explosions, like
firecrackers detonated at the far end of the room and purple and
red toxic-looking smoke clouded the air. A red light flashed, then
a sonic boom thundered, and another volley of smaller explosions
resounded in the air. She coughed as smoke filled her lungs. Her
eyes stung and watered.

“FIRE IN THE HOLE!” someone shouted, and
another shower of explosives ignited. The room shook like an
earthquake.

Zoey blinked through the smoke. The room was
large, twice the size of the academy home room 1D, and crowded with
people. To her left, ten men and women stood with weapons ready and
shot laser guns at moving holographic targets that looked a lot
like the Duyen demon that had tried to kill her.

“Did you see that, Andrew?” said a young
woman in a helmet and goggles that covered most of her face. She
held a giant gun. “It exploded with just one shot! God I love my
job!”

In one section of the room, agents appeared
to be defending themselves from a mystic attack upon a mock house.
Their guns were fake, but a real group of dwarf furry mystics
seemed only too happy to be harassing them. Zoey realized that the
agents were playing Mutes, and the mystics were actually rescuing
them.

There even more weapons in this room than
back at the academy room. Shelves were stacked with swords, hand
guns, rifles, grenades, flamethrowers, and more medieval looking
weapons such as, spears, staffs, battle axes, crossbows, and spiked
clubs. One section was full with bags of salt. It was a massive
library of weapons.

Agent Vargas looked at her.

“This is where we test new weapons,” he
raised his voice over the explosions. “It’s not always this busy,
but due to certain recent events, we’re doubling our defenses. All
our agents have been called back to duty to test new artillery and
to freshen up their skills.”

Zoey knew exactly what he was talking
about—the interloper—if the agency was this worried, the situation
was even worse than she thought. She was itching to know more, but
Agent Vargas didn’t elaborate any further.

“Come along, Zoey.” Agent Vargas walked
through the explosions as though it were merely a walk in the park.
He didn’t even flinch at the explosions right next to him.

He took Zoey to the far right of the room
where the largest mirror Zoey had ever seen was hung on the wall.
She thought it was a miracle it had not been damaged by the
explosions. The rectangular white oak frame had an arched top and
was highly ornamented. The mirror itself was made of some sort of
crystal, and it gleamed in the room like liquid diamonds.

Next to the mirror was a cubicle made of
glass and metal. It was like the screened off area radiographers
stood behind to protect themselves from radiation. Someone sat in
the cubicle with his back turned to them, typing with spaceman-like
gloves.

“Agent Franken,” said Agent Vargas, and then
louder, “Agent Franken!”

The man turned. He was wearing a silver full
body HAZMAT suit, complete with hood and visor. He looked ready to
work for the Center of Disease Control or walk on Mars. With a
little difficulty, he slipped off the seat and stood up. He was
only about four feet tall, and he looked like an old hobbit on his
way to the moon. The suit restricted him from any fast movements,
so he moved like a puppet with half its strings cut.

Finally, he stood before them and removed
the headgear. He had a mass of white stringy hair and thick glasses
that magnified his eyes to the size of grapefruits. His bushy white
eyebrows topped the rim of his glasses like caterpillars. He
waddled over to Zoey and inspected her carefully. He stood so close
that she could smell the coffee on his breath. After a moment he
broke into a grin, and Zoey noticed he only had four front
teeth.

It wasn’t so noisy at this end of the room,
so Zoey removed her earplugs and stuffed them in her pocket.

“Is this the new recruit?” said Agent
Franken in a squeaky voice, still examining her.

“Sure is,” answered Agent Vargas. “Came in
last night with Agent Barnes.”

Zoey felt uncomfortable being discussed in
the third person, like some post office parcel.

“Well, well, well,” said Agent Franken.
“It’s been a while since I’ve laid eyes on a Drifter. So this is
her, huh—where do you come from, girl?”

Zoey shifted uncomfortably on the spot.
“Toronto.”

“Toronto!” Agent Franken tried to throw his
arms in the air but only succeeded in a jerky motion like a robot.
“Never liked that city—too many buildings, too many people. One
could get lost just walking down the street. No, no, no—I don’t
like big cities.”

Zoey tried to hide her smile.

“Oh, you think that’s funny, do you?” said
Agent Franken. “Let’s see how brave you are
Drifter
.”

He pulled out a syringe-like instrument and
grabbed her hand. Before she knew what he was doing—he had stabbed
it into her index finger.

“Ow! What was that for?” Zoey pulled her
hand away. Blood seeped through a small needle incision on her
finger.

Agent Franken put the syringe in his pocket.
“Matter backup, just in case.”

“Just in case of what?”

“Never you mind,” said Agent Franken.

He raised his arm with difficulty and
pointed to the mirror. “Face the mirror. Let’s go. Come on
now—there’s no time like the present. I’m a very busy man. I don’t
have time to waste on little girls. Hurry up!”

Zoey’s legs were glued to the floor. She
looked at Agent Vargas, who gave her a nod of his head.

“Do as he says, Zoey,” he said. “Face the
mirror.”

How scary could a mirror be? It was just
a mirror
.

She couldn’t see how it could hurt to stare
at her own reflection. Still, she walked carefully towards the
giant mirror, studying the frame and examining her own reflection.
What a mess. She tried to flatten the top of her hair, but it was
useless. It looked a million times redder and crazier in this
mirror.

And then something strange happened.

The more she stared at herself, the weirder
she felt and looked. Strangely, she looked
like
herself, but
different
at the same time. It was like trying to remember a
face that kept changing and fading in a dream. Could that be
possible?

She stepped closer and inspected herself
more carefully. She
did
look different. It was like her
reflection was pixilated on a large television screen, with
millions of different tiny dots of herself. She waved her hand in
front of the mirror, and the hand moved, too—but slower, as though
her reflection was catching up to her real self. Goose bumps
riddled her skin. She took a step back and watched as her
reflection stepped backwards a second later. She was suddenly very
frightened of this mirror.

“Stay where you are, please,” said Agent
Franken.

He made his way back to his seat. After some
effort, he sat and replaced his hood over his head. “Voont
Moo!”

“What did he say?” Zoey’s mouth was dry. Her
stomach lurched, and she was tempted to bolt.

“VOONT MOO!” repeated Agent Franken. His
visor began to fog up, and he waved his arms around in a weird
motion, like he was trying to swim backwards against the
rapids.

Agent Vargas walked over to the old man and
lifted his hood. “We can’t understand you—what did you say?”

“Oh, sorry,” laughed Agent Franken. “Can’t
hear a blasted thing with this on. What I said was,
don’t
move
. If you move we have to start again, so don’t move. I’m
powering up the mirror now, so stay where you are.”

“Agent Vargas please stand behind the glass
protector. We don’t want to have a
matter
mix-up again. It
was a
very
messy business the last time that happened. It
took months to find all the pieces of Agent Jones—may her soul rest
in peace.”

“What?” said Zoey, and she felt a tide of
fear cascading up from deep inside her.

“What? Nothing, nothing.” Agent Franken
pretended not to hear her. “Stay where you are. Don’t move.”

Agent Vargas positioned himself behind the
part of the cubicle with the metal wall.

“What exactly are you going to do to me?”
she said, her fingers trembled and she curled them into fists. She
fought the urge to look at herself in the strange mirror again.

“
I’m
not going to do anything—the
mirror
is,” said Agent Franken.

Zoey watched as he pressed more buttons on
his computer. There was a sharp
click
and then a loud
humming came from the mirror, as though millions of bees were
trapped inside. The mirror vibrated, and then a light appeared in
the middle. It was faint at first and gradually became brighter
until the mirror was completely covered in blue light. It looked
like blue energy.

“So, what’s the mirror going to do to me?”
asked Zoey, trying to sound braver than she felt.

“It’s going to scan your genetic makeup
first—your matter—then I’ll convert it to an energy pattern,”
answered Agent Franken.

“Everyone has their own unique pattern, like
fingerprints, and the mirror will always remember yours. The mirror
dematerializes your matter—saves it to memory—and then
rematerializes it at a specific target location or
anchor.
Anchors are usually other mirrors or reflective surfaces. It’s
called mirror-port matter transfer, or just M-Mat. It’s mystic
technology at its best, and we’ve been borrowing it for
centuries.”

Zoey stared down at herself, “Is it going to
hurt?”

“A little, yes.”

Of course it will, what a stupid
question,
thought Zoey. “So, this is like a teleport device,
like in Star Trek and other science-fiction movies, right?”

Agent Franken shrugged. “It’s a form of
teleportation, yes. Now, no more talking and be still—we don’t want
a mirror-port accident.”

Zoey was afraid to ask but asked anyway.
“What happens when you get a mirror-port accident?” She could
easily imagine something horrible, like her body exploding in a
soup of red mess.

“It’s when a person does not rematerialize
correctly, some of their
parts
end up elsewhere.”

“And that’s what happened to Agent Jones,
isn’t it?” said Zoey.

Agent Franken pressed his lips together
tightly and didn’t answer.

Sweat trickled down Zoey’s forehead. “I’m
not sure I want to do this anymore—”

“All operatives must get scanned. If you
don’t move, and stop talking you should be fine—but I can’t give
any guarantees. Now, please, no more talking. I mean it.” Agent
Franken lowered his hood and started to punch buttons on his
computer screen.

“EDDIE?” said Agent Franken through his
visor. Zoey understood
ready
.

“No,” she whispered and stood as still as
she could.

Through the haze of blue, she could see
Agent Vargas in the mirror. He smiled and gave her a thumbs-up. She
strained to stop shaking, but the mirror terrified her. It was
going to hurt.

Just as she was beginning to feel like she
might pass out, the humming from the mirror intensified, and a blue
beam blasted from the mirror and hit her. Stunned, she couldn’t
move even if she had wanted to. She couldn’t even blink.

The blue beam stretched until her entire
body was covered in a semitransparent blue energy. She watched her
eyes in her own reflection, which looked as petrified as she
felt.

A sudden coolness washed over her like a
cold shower, and her skin bristled as if millions of insects were
running over her. Her eyes burned, and she wanted to blink, but she
couldn’t. Then the coolness became a hot stinging pain.

Her body was on fire. She watched as her
reflection was pulled and warped like a gob of pre-chewed gum. She
stretched abnormally long, then her face elongated, deformed, and
her eyes bugged out like a fly’s. She tried to scream, but her
mouth was like lead. She couldn’t open it. Her vision went dark,
and she couldn’t breathe—she was going to die. And then all at
once, her matter broke apart—the mirror sucked it in like a
vacuum—and everything around her disappeared.