Free Mystics #1: The Seventh Sense by Kim Richardson

are. The
Originals existed centuries ago. I don’t 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 spoonfuls 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