The Necromancer sotinf-4

by Michael Scott

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  “W e could just fly to San Francisco,” Virginia Dare said quietly. “I quite like flying. Especially if it’s first-class, and particularly if you are paying.”

  “I hate flying,” Dee muttered. “Besides, there are two problems with that: booking a ticket will leave a trail that anyone can follow, and the first flight is not until tomorrow morning. Then it’s an eleven-hour flight to the West Coast. We’d lose too much time, and it would allow the Elders to organize a welcoming committee for me when I land.”

  “What about a private jet? You’re rich enough to do that.”

  “Yes, I’m rich enough, but the paperwork would take hours and leave a huge trail also. No, this is a much better idea.”

  “When you say better, does that mean dangerous?” Virginia asked softly.

  “That has never bothered you before.”

  “I am immortal, not invulnerable. I can be killed… and so can you,” she reminded him. “As I get older, I appreciate my long life. I have no desire to end it.”

  The couple, looking like any other pair of tourists, were standing beneath the shade of a tree admiring the brightly lit facade of the Tower of London, the pale cream stone turned the color of butter in the warm lights. A recent shower had swept across the city and created puddles that reflected the lights. Even at this late hour there were still plenty of sightseers enjoying the cool air, admiring the London landmark on the Thames River. Occasionally cameras flashed.

  “All my life seems to have been spent in and around the Tower,” Dee said wistfully. “I visited Walter Raleigh here just before his execution,” he added. “And when I was a boy my father took me to see the lions here, when it housed the Royal Menagerie.”

  “Very touching,” Dare muttered. “Do you want to tell me now why we’re here?”

  Dee nodded, a tiny jerk of his head. “There is an entrance to a Shadowrealm inside.”

  “The Traitor’s Gate Shadowrealm.” Dare nodded. “I’ve heard of it.” She shuddered, her shoulders rolling beneath her coat. “Rumor has it that it is an evil place.”

  Dee ignored her. “Together, I believe we’re powerful enough to activate and enter it. Once we’re in the Shadowrealm, we can hop from realm to realm and then drop out in America.” He grinned with genuine good humor.

  “Once you activate the gate, you will have betrayed our position,” Virginia said.

  “True. But once we’re in the Shadowrealm, no one will know where we’re going.”

  Virginia Dare shook her head, her long hair flowing down her back. “Can I point out one or two very minor flaws in this plan?”

  “Such as?”

  “Let us assume we can overpower the guards in the Tower…”

  “Easily done. You can spell them to sleep with your music.”

  “And then let us assume we can leap into the Traitor’s Gate Shadowrealm.”

  “We can do that,” Dee said confidently.

  “Do we know whose Shadowrealm it is?”

  The doctor shook his head. “No one knows. Some minor Elder, perhaps-but you know that many of the Shadowrealms that border the earth are empty.”

  “I also know that the Dark Elders have been calling their brethren who live in the outer Shadowrealms to draw closer as Litha approaches. Something might have taken up residence there.”

  Dee opened his mouth to comment, but Virginia pressed on.

  “But let us assume that we find it empty. We then have to move through it to cross into one or two or three more Shadowrealms before we end up in a realm that touches the Americas.”

  “Yes.”

  “And it could be anywhere in the Americas from Alaska to Florida?”

  “Yes. At worst we’ll be a couple of hours away from San Francisco.”

  “So tell me why we are going back to San Francisco? I thought that city was about to be overrun by your Elder’s nightmare army?”

  “The Book of Abraham the Mage is in San Francisco. I need it.”

  “You finally got it!” Virginia sounded genuinely delighted. “Took you long enough,” she added sarcastically. Then she stopped as a sudden thought struck her. “The Book is still in your possession-have you not surrendered it to your Elders?”

  “No. I’ve decided to keep it.”

  “Keep it!” Virginia’s raised voice made some of the late-night tourists turn to look. She lowered her voice to a hoarse whisper. “What for?”

  Dee grinned. “I am going to use it to take control of this earth myself.”

  Virginia blinked in surprise, and then she suddenly laughed delightedly. “Doctor, you are mad… which must make me even madder, for associating with you. Do you think your Elders will allow you to take over this, their favorite Shadowrealm?”

  “I’m not going to give them any choice,” Dee said simply. “I gave them a lifetime-several lifetimes-of service. And yet, because of a few petty failures, they are prepared to sentence me to an eternity of suffering. They declared me utlaga. Now my loyalty is to myself-and to you too,” he added hastily, catching a glimpse of the expression on his companion’s face. “I am going to wrest control of this planet from the Elders, kill all the immortal humans, Elders and Next Generation who still live here. I will then seal the entrances to the Shadowrealms and cut this world off from all the others. I will make this planet mine. Ours, if you are with me. We can rule together.”

  Virginia Dare took a step away from Dee and slowly and deliberately looked him up and down.

  “What are you looking at?” he demanded.

  “A fool,” she snapped. “How do you hope to achieve all this?”

  “Yesterday I saw an Archon.”

  Virginia blinked in surprise. “I’ve never seen one. I thought they were myth.”

  “I saw Cernunnos, the Horned God. I stood as close to it as I am standing to you. And then later, it came to me: it sent a thoughtform, a being created, controlled and held together entirely by the power of its imagination. Its power was incredible… and yet Cernunnos is one of the minor Archons.”

  Virginia started to shake her head. “And what has this got to do with you taking control of this Shadowrealm?”

  “I have the four Swords of Power. I intend to raise Coatlicue, the greatest of all the Archons. She will serve me.”

  Virginia Dare drew in her breath in a quick gasp. “John, this is insanity,” she said urgently. “And even if you could raise the Archon, why should she serve you? What have you got to trade that would even remotely interest her?”

  “Coatlicue despises and loathes the Elders. Millennia ago, they sentenced her to an eternity of suffering-I would imagine she will want her revenge.”

  “Revenge drives us all,” Virginia murmured. “But I still don’t see how…”

  The doctor’s smile was terrifying. “I know the entrance to Xibalba here on earth. If she serves me, I will give her that location.”

  “And once she is in Xibalba…,” Virginia whispered.

  Dee nodded. “She will have access to the countless Shadowrealms. She can ravage her way through them, feasting off everything she finds.”

  The woman’s laughter was shaky. “I have always admired your ruthless streak, John, but this is breathtaking. Even you, as powerful as you are, will not be able to raise an Archon. Especially the Mother of All the Gods. As soon as she steps into this world, she’ll feed off the first things she sees.”

  Dee shrugged. “It is true I am going to need something extraordinary, something powerful, to draw her and then distract her while I bind her in spells.” He touched the swords under his coat. The answer flowed through his fingers and the air was suddenly filled with the sharp citrus scent of orange. His smile turned savage. “I will offer her a pure golden aura.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Sophie and Josh walked side by side on the quay in Sausalito, past the gently rocking houseboats. Each one was different, some small and squat, others tall and long. Most had small dinghies tied to the
side, and one even had a seaplane moored off one end.

  The twins had left Nicholas and Perenelle arguing with Aoife back on Niten’s houseboat. The Swordsman remained silent, only occasionally stepping in to place his hands on the vampire’s shoulder when her temper grew heated.

  “What do we do now?” Josh asked.

  Sophie looked at him. “Do? About what?”

  “I mean, do we go home?”

  “And then what? What are we going home to?”

  Josh dug his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and walked on. He had no answer to that. “You know, it was only when I was leaving the house earlier to look for the Flamels that I realized how much we’ve lost,” he said.

  “What do you mean lost?” Sophie was confused.

  “These last few days we’ve spent with the Flamels has cost us everything,” Josh continued. “Everything we thought we knew-all the history, the mythology, even the archaeology-it all turns out to be a lie. Even our futures have been wiped out.”

  Sophie nodded. She’d already had the same thoughts, but wasn’t surprised that it had taken her brother a little longer to come to them.

  “So where do we go?” Josh stopped to look back toward Niten’s houseboat. Although it was over a hundred yards away, he lowered his voice to little more than a whisper. “What do we do, sis? I don’t trust Flamel.”

  “Neither do I,” she admitted.

  “But we’re sort of stuck with him.”

  Sophie nodded. “And I think we need to see this out to the end.”

  “What does that mean?” her brother asked desperately. “You’ve heard them-they’re talking about attacking Alcatraz. That’s just crazy!”

  “But if they don’t, then the creatures on the island will attack San Francisco.” Sophie reached out to touch her brother and the air was suddenly filled with the sweet smell of vanilla. Her bright blue eyes flickered silver. “Have you ever thought that this is exactly where we’re supposed to be? This is what we’re supposed to be doing.”

  Josh took a step back, suddenly frightened of the intensity in his sister’s voice. “What are you talking about?” he asked.

  “Josh, ten thousand years ago, Abraham wrote about us…”

  Josh shook his head quickly. “No. He wrote about twins… and there have been lots of twins.”

  “None like us.”

  “Lots like us,” he insisted. “Remember? The Flamels have been collecting gold and silver twins for generations. And none of them survived their Awakening.”

  “We did,” she reminded him.

  “Barely.”

  “Josh, I’ve been trained in Air, Fire and Water magics and you’ve been Awakened and trained in Water magic. We can’t just ignore those skills. We have an opportunity now to use them, to protect the city.”

  “Have you ever wondered,” Josh asked suddenly, “if we’re fighting for the right side? If maybe Flamel is the enemy and Dee is the good guy?”

  They both caught the flicker of movement at the same time and whirled around to face Niten. Even though the early afternoon was still and quiet, they hadn’t heard the Swordsman approach. He bowed slightly. “They are calling for you,” he said, glancing back at the boat. He turned and walked away, then stopped to glance over his shoulder, and the light washed over his face, turning his brown eyes into mirrors. “I could not help overhearing your last question. I am immortal, and though I have not lived as long as Nicholas or Perenelle, I am now, and have always been, a warrior. And if that life has taught me anything, it is that in every war, both sides believe they are in the right.”

  “And what about us, Niten?” Josh asked. “Are we on the right side?”

  “You are on a side, and that is important. You don’t have to stay on that side. Often the greatest act of courage is admitting that one has made a mistake.” He paused, then added, “Follow your hearts. Protect one another, trust one another, because, at the end of the day, all of these people want something from you, or want you to do something for them, or be something that you are not. Your only responsibility is to one another.” Then he turned and walked away.

  Nicholas and Perenelle were waiting on the dock. Sophie felt Perenelle’s eyes searching their faces, almost as if she were reading their thoughts. The Sorceress stepped forward and Sophie realized with a sudden clarity that Perenelle-and not Nicholas-was in charge. It dawned on her that the woman had probably always been the boss.

  “It is decision time,” Flamel said with a wry smile.

  “Well, we’ve been talking about-” Josh began.

  “The time for talking is over,” Perenelle said abruptly. “This is the time for action. Are you with us?” she asked.

  “Do we have a choice?” Josh replied.

  Perenelle opened her mouth to answer, but Nicholas tugged at her sleeve and shook his head slightly. Looking at the twins, he said, “There are always choices.” He held up three bony fingers. “You can fight with us, you can side with Dee, or you can do nothing.” The expression on his face turned cruel. “If you side with Dee, then this city and ultimately this world are doomed. If you do nothing, then this city and this world are still doomed. But if you fight with us, then there is a chance-a small chance, but a chance nonetheless-for humankind.”

  “But-” Josh began.

  Sophie reached out and caught her brother’s arm, pinching hard enough to silence his response. “We’re with you,” Sophie said. She looked at her brother and he nodded once. “We’re both with you.” She looked from Nicholas to Perenelle. “Now, what do we do?”

  The Sorceress bowed her head slightly, but not before Sophie caught the hint of a smile. “Josh needs to learn at least one more Elemental Magic,” Perenelle said. “If we had time we could find someone to train him in Earth, Air and Fire, but we don’t. I think he will be able to learn one more magic in the time left for us.”

  “But which one?” Josh asked.

  Perenelle swiveled around to look at the Alchemyst, her fine eyebrows raised in a silent question. No words passed between them, but the Sorceress nodded and turned back with a smile on her face. “We will train Josh in the Magic of Fire,” she said.

  Josh looked at Sophie and grinned. “Fire. I like that.” He turned back to Perenelle. “But who’s going to train me?”

  Sophie knew the answer even before the Sorceress spoke. “We will go and see Prometheus, the Master of Fire.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Niccolo Machiavelli sat in the passenger seat of the stripped-down army surplus jeep, clutching the bar welded onto the dashboard in a white-knuckled grip. Billy sat in the back and whooped delightedly with each bump and dip on the unpaved road. Black Hawk drove the narrow country lanes at high speed, foot pushed hard to the floor, a ferocious grin on his face.

  “I think,” Machiavelli said, shouting to be heard over the noise of the engine, “I think that your master would probably prefer us alive so he can kill us himself. He might be irritated if you do the job for him. Slow down.”

  “This isn’t fast,” Black Hawk said. The jeep lurched forward, engine howling as all four wheels left the ground. “Now, this is fast.”

  “I’ll be sick,” Machiavelli promised, “and when I am, I’m going to be sick in your direction. Yours too,” he added, looking back over his shoulder at Billy the Kid.

  Black Hawk reluctantly eased his foot off the accelerator.

  “I’ve not lived through more than five hundred years of Europe’s most turbulent history only to die in a car crash.”

  “Black Hawk could drive these roads wearing a blindfold,” Billy said.

  “I’m sure he could, though why he would want to do something like that is beyond me.”

  “Have you never done something purely for the thrill of it?” Black Hawk asked.

  “No,” Machiavelli said. “Not for a long time.”

  Black Hawk looked shocked. “But that seems like such a waste of immortality. I pity you,” he added.

  “You pi
ty me?”

  “You are not living, you are surviving.”

  Niccolo Machiavelli stared at the Native American immortal for a long time before he finally nodded and looked away. “You may be right,” he murmured.

  The house was set back off the road.

  At first glance it looked like a small, ordinary timber cottage, similar to so many others scattered across the United States. It was only when one approached closer that the truth was revealed: the house was enormous, much of it built into the side of the hill behind it.

  Machiavelli felt his skin prickle and crawl the moment the car turned off the rough track onto a narrow rutted drive: the telltale signs of warding spells. There was old magic here, ancient eldritch power. He caught glimpses of arcane symbols cut into trees, spirals daubed on rocks, stick figures carved into fence posts. The track cut straight across a field of grass that grew as high as the car doors. The blades rasped and hissed against the metal, sounding like a thousand warning whispers. The Italian caught flickers of movement all around him, and glimpses of snakes, toads, and quick, scurrying lizards. A gangling misshapen scarecrow dominated the field on the left-hand side of the track. Its head was a huge gnarled dried pumpkin that had been carved in a round-eyed face with a protruding tongue.

  The grassy field stopped abruptly, as if a line had been drawn in the earth, and the rest of the approach to the house was across perfectly flat land. Machiavelli nodded his approval: nothing could get through the field without setting off countless alarms or being attacked by a poisonous lurking guardian. Getting close to the house undetected would be impossible. An enormous lynx, bigger than any he had ever seen before, lay on the ground before the open front door, regarding the car impassively, only the tiny movements of its black-tufted ears betraying that it was real and not a carving.

  Black Hawk pulled the jeep up in front of the house, but kept the engine running and made no move to climb out. “End of the road,” he said without a trace of a smile.