Free Mystics #1: The Seventh Sense by Kim Richardson Page B

ignored him and turned
her attention to Tristan again.
    “Did Agent Lee find out who took it? Do they have any leads and theories
as to why they took it in the first place?”
    Tristan hesitated then shook his head. “No. It was really bad. There
were bodies everywhere, mystic and human. It was horrible. Who
ever took it must have had an army or something—they got through the
agency’s toughest security. We don’t know how they found out where it was.”
      “But why would someone steal it?” asked Zoey, aware that Stuart was
slowly making his way closer to their table. It was so obvious he was trying to
hear what they were talking about.
      “To travel without being
detected,” answered Tristan. “To let the hostile mystics who hate us in. There’s no way we could keep track
of all the mystics traveling to Earth if someone had their own interloper.”
    Zoey frowned. “You mean like, illegally ?”
    “Yup,” said Simon. “I mean we do get illegals from time to time. They
slip through the cracks, so to speak. Usually they use other transporting
devices, but those things don’t work very well, and most of the time the
mystics die trying to get across. But a single interloper could let thousands
of undetected mystics through at one time—thousands of big, ugly ones.”
    “So who would want to do something like that?” asked Zoey.
    “Hostiles, probably,” said Tristan.
    An uneasy feeling grew in the pit of Zoey’s stomach. “So whoever
stole it has big plans for it, like something really bad, right? I mean, that’s
the only thing that would make sense, right?”
    “Yup,” agreed Simon. “Like a nuclear explosion of hostile mystics.
They’d come here and destroy every last human being. They would probably eat us,
too.”
    Agent Barnes had said that whoever had stolen the interloper must
have been an insider. Someone with Agency connections must have stolen the device.
But who had it now? And why did they take it in the first place?
    When they were finished eating, Zoey pushed her seat back and got
up.
    “Okay, what’s next?” she asked.
    “Now the fun really begins,” said Tristan excitedly, sharing a look with Simon. “Now it’s time to
see if you’ve really got what it takes to be an operative.”

Chapter
6
Mirror- P ort

    Z oey hadn’t expected to see a
Viking when she returned to class with her new friends, Tristan and Simon. A
giant of a man with angular features and muscles that bulged through his white shirt
stood at the front of the class in place of Agent Ward. He looked to be in his
late fifties, but still as fit and strong as an ox. His long, blond hair was
tied in a neat braid. She had read that horned Viking helmets were a myth, but
she couldn’t help picture one on his head. It seemed to fit him.
    He stared at Zoey without blinking.
    “You must be the Drifter, Zoey St. John,” he said in a deep
commanding voice. Stuart and his gang laughed.
    Zoey stood frozen in the doorway; she suddenly felt very small and
insignificant. She saw Tristan and Simon take their seats, and she willed
herself to her place and sat down, doing her best not to look at the Viking.
    But then something happened that changed everything. The Viking
smiled.
    “Welcome, Zoey,” said the Viking.
    “You may call me Agent Vargas. For your practical training, I’ll do my
best to teach you the art of combat, weapons training, and self-defense. I will
teach you how to catch and restrain illegals. If you are not
physically fit, then you cannot do your job. You can know everything there is
to know about hostiles and the mystic world, but if you can’t fight or defend
yourself—you’re just as good as dead. Might as well quit while you still can,
and go work in the kitchen. Quiet down everyone. I’m going to make agents out
of you, if it’s the last thing I do.”
    He winked at her, and she felt her face get hot. She felt even
better when she saw the disappointment on Stuart’s face.
    Agent Vargas smacked