Mystics 3-Book Collection
think anyone can trace that far back because no one knows
who they really were. This whole thing started years ago when a
group of Sevenths decided to do some DNA testing. Next thing you
know, they started to wear these rings and claimed to be
descendants of the long lost Originals.”
    Zoey looked back to Stuart. “Now I get why
he’s so thick. He treats people like scum because he does think he’s royalty. He thinks he’s one of the Originals, and the
rest of us are peasants.”
    “Who cares about him anyway? Come on, let’s
get lunch,” said Tristan as he made his way towards the door.
    With a final glower in Stuart’s direction,
Zoey followed Tristan out of the class. She tried to forget how
unwelcome he made her feel and strained to think about how
fortunate she was to be in the program—but she couldn’t. Her hatred
for the boy was growing. While she had found a new friend here at
the agency, she had also gained an enemy.
     
    Lunch was at the Wander Inn. The dining room
was set up with a buffet lunch where everyone helped themselves to
plates of food and drink. A bulbous purple mystic with four eyes
and small mouth like a button was wearing a chef’s hat and stained
apron and served behind the counter. The thing squealed in delight
as it packed their plates with spoonsfuls of spaghetti and
meatballs.
    The room was crowded with operatives and
agents. Apparently, everyone ate there, including Stuart and his
cronies. They stared at Zoey from the end of the buffet line,
whispering and laughing.
    After they had served themselves with two
slices of pizza, fries, and two bottles of water, Tristan and Zoey
took a table near the window where they’d be out of earshot.
    “So, Agent Ward wasn’t half as bad as I
thought she’d be,” said Tristan as he popped a handful of fries in
his mouth. “I thought it went pretty well.”
    Zoey stared at him. “Are you kidding? The
woman nearly bit my head off. She hates me.”
    “She hates everyone,” said a voice.
    Zoey looked up from her plate. The voice
belonged to the boy who had tried to get her attention earlier. He
was lanky with a goofy kind of face, blonde hair, freckles, and
large pleading blue eyes.
    “Can I sit with you guys?” he asked, and
before either of them could answer the boy sat at their table and
stuck out his hand. “Simon Brown at your service.”
    Zoey laughed and shook his hand. “Nice to
meet you, Simon.”
    She liked him immediately.
    “Everyone’s talking about you, you know,”
said Simon as he angled a large slice of greasy pizza towards his
mouth.
    “You’re like the main attraction around
here. People haven’t been this excited since Cameron clogged all
the toilets on the second floor. It must have been a real shock for
you when you came here, right? Yeah, must have been. I would have
been shocked. I mean—if I were you. But I’m not—but I would
have been—you know what I mean?”
    Grease rolled down the sides of his mouth as
he chewed happily.
    There was something Zoey had wanted to ask
Tristan since they had rescued her, and she figured there was no
better time than right now.
    “What’s an interloper ?” she blurted
out.
    Simon choked on his pizza, and Tristan’s
fries fell on his plate. The entire dining room froze, and all eyes
were on Zoey.
    “Agent Lee said that one was stolen
yesterday in Boston,” she continued. “So I’m thinking that you must
have seen it or something, right?”
    Tristan and Simon looked at each other but
said nothing.
    Zoey leaned forward on the table and lowered
her voice.
    “What did I say?” She looked at them both.
“What’s the big deal? Why is everyone staring at me?”
    Tristan waited until everyone went back to
their meals before answering. “Don’t say that word so loud.”
    “What word? Interloper?”
    “SHHH!”
    Zoey covered her mouth. “Okay,” she
whispered and lowered herself even closer to the table, getting
pizza grease on her sleeves and hair.
    “But what is it?

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