Nicholas Flamel 2 - The Magician sotinf-2
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Catherine de Medici is living off the Rue du Dragon.
She s not French, Dagon mumbled stickily.
Well, she was the mother of three French kings, Machiavelli said with a
rare smile. But she is loyal only to herself . His voice trailed away and
he straightened. But what do we have here?
Dagon remained unmoving.
Niccol Machiavelli swiveled the computer screen so that his servant could
see the photograph of a man staring directly at the camera in what was
obviously a posed publicity shot. Thick curling black hair tumbled to his
shoulders, framing a round face. His eyes were startlingly blue.
I do not know this man, Dagon said.
Oh, but I do. I know him very well. This is the immortal human once known as
the Comte de Saint-Germain. He was a magician, an inventor, a musician and an
alchemist. Machiavelli closed the program and shut down the computer.
Saint-Germain was also the student of Nicholas Flamel. And he s currently
living in Paris, he finished triumphantly.
Dagon smiled, his mouth a perfect O filled with razor teeth. Does Flamel
know that Saint-Germain is here?
I have no idea. No one knows the extent of Nicholas Flamel s knowledge.
Dagon pushed his sunglasses back in place. And I thought you knew
everything.
CHAPTER EIGHT
W e need to rest, Josh said finally. I can t go any farther. He stopped
and leaned against a building, bent over and wheezing. Every breath was an
effort, and he was beginning to see black spots dancing in front of his eyes.
Any moment now he was going to throw up. He felt this way sometimes after
football practice, and he knew from experience that he needed to sit and get
some liquids into his system.
He s right. Scatty turned to Flamel. We need to rest, even if only
briefly. She was still carrying Sophie in her arms, and with gray glimmers of
light illuminating the Parisian rooftops toward the east, the first of the
early-morning workers had begun to appear. The fugitives had kept to the dark
side streets, and so far no one had paid any attention to the strange group,
but that would quickly change as the street filled first with Parisians, then
with tourists.
Nicholas stood outlined at the mouth of the narrow street. He glanced up and
down before turning to look over his shoulder. We have to push on, he
protested. Every second we delay brings Machiavelli closer to us.
We can t, Scatty said. She looked at Flamel, and for a single instant, her
bright green eyes glowed. The twins need to rest, she said, and then added
softly, And so do you, Nicholas. You re exhausted.
The Alchemyst considered her and then he nodded and his shoulders slumped.
You re right, of course. I ll do as you say.
Maybe we could check into a hotel? Josh suggested. He was achingly tired,
his eyes and throat gritty, head throbbing.
Scatty shook her head. They would ask for our passports . Sophie stirred in
her arms, and Scathach gently eased her to the ground and leaned her up
against the wall.
Josh was immediately by her side. You re awake, he said, relief in his
voice.
I wasn't really asleep, Sophie answered, her tongue feeling too big for her
mouth. I knew what was going on, but it was as if I was looking at it from
the outside. Like watching something on TV. She pressed her hands into the
small of her back and pushed hard as she rotated her neck. Ouch. That hurt.
What hurts? Josh asked immediately.
Everything. She attempted to straighten, but aching muscles protested and a
sick headache pulsed behind her eyes.
Is there anyone here you can call for help? Josh looked from Nicholas to
Scathach. Are there any more immortals or Elders?
There are immortals and Elders everywhere, Scatty said. Few are as
friendly as we are, though, she added with a humorless smile.
There will be immortals in Paris, Flamel agreed slowly, but I've no idea
where to find one, and even if I did, I would have no idea where their
allegiances lay. Perenelle would know, he added, a hint of sadness in his
voice.
Would your grandmother know? Josh asked Scatty.
The Warrior glanced at him. I m sure she would. She turned to look at
Sophie. Amongst all of your new memories, can you recall anything about
immortals or Elders living in Paris?
Sophie closed her eyes and tried to concentrate, but the scenes and images
that flashed by fire raining from a bloodred sky, a huge flat-topped pyramid
about to be overwhelmed by a gigantic wave were chaotic and terrifying. She
started to shake her head, then stopped. Even the simplest of movements hurt.
I can t think, she sighed. My head is so full, it feels like it s going to
burst.
The Witch might know, Flamel said, but we have no way of getting in touch
with her. She has no phone.
What about her neighbors, friends? Josh asked. He turned back to his
sister. I know you don't want to think about this, but you have to. It s
important.
I can t think , Sophie began, looking away and shaking her head.
don't think. Just answer, Josh snapped. He took a quick breath and lowered
his voice, speaking slowly. Sis, who is the Witch of Endor s closest friend
in Ojai?
Sophie s bright blue eyes closed again and she swayed as if she was about to
faint. When her eyes opened, she shook her head. She has no friends there.
But everyone knows her. Maybe we could call the store next to hers , she
suggested. Then she shook her head. It s too late there.
Flamel nodded. Sophie s right; it ll be closed at this time of night.
It ll be closed, all right, Josh agreed, a touch of excitement entering his
voice, but when we left Ojai, the place was in chaos. And don't forget, I
drove a Hummer into the fountain in Libbey Park; that had to have caught
someone s attention. I ll bet the police and the press are there right now.
And the press might answer some questions if we ask the right ones. I mean,
if the Witch s shop was damaged they re sure to be looking for a story.
It might work , Flamel began. I just need to know the name of the
newspaper.
Ojai Valley News, 646-1476, Sophie said immediately. I remember that
much or the Witch does, she added, and then shuddered. There were so many
memories in her head, so many thoughts and ideas and not just the terrifying
and fantastic images of people and places that should never have existed, but
also ordinary mundane thoughts: phone numbers and recipes, names and
addresses of people she d never heard of, pictures from old TV shows, posters
from movies. She even knew the name of every single Elvis Presley song.
But all of these were the Witch s memories. And right now, she had to
struggle to remember her own cell phone number. What would happen if the
Witch s memories grew so strong that they overwhelmed her own? She tried to
focus on the faces of her parents, Richard and Sara. Hundreds of faces
flickered past, images of figures carved in stone, the heads of giant
statues, paintings daubed onto the sides of buildings, tiny shapes etched in
shards of pottery. Sophie
started to get frantic. Why couldn't she remember
her parents faces? Closing her eyes, she concentrated hard on the last time
she had seen her mother and father. It would have been about three weeks ago,
just before they had left for the dig in Utah. More faces tumbled behind
Sophie s closed eyes: images on scraps of parchment, fragments of manuscripts
or cracked oil paintings; faces in faded sepia photographs, in blurred
newspapers
Sophie?
And then, in a flash of color, the faces of her parents popped into her head,
and Sophie felt the Witch s memories fade away and her own come back to the
surface. She suddenly knew her own phone number.
Sis?
She opened her eyes and blinked at her brother. He was standing directly in
front of her, his face close to hers, his eyes pinched with concern.
I m OK, she whispered. I was just trying to remember something.
What?
She attempted a smile. My phone number.
Your phone number? Why? He stopped, and then added, No one ever remembers
their own phone number. When was the last time you called yourself?
Hands wrapped around steaming mugs of bittersweet hot chocolate, Sophie and
Josh sat opposite one another in an otherwise empty all-night caf close to
the Gare du Nord Metro station. There was only one staff member behind the
counter, a surly shaven-headed assistant wearing an upside-down name tag that
said ROUX.
I need a shower, Sophie said grimly. I need to wash my hair and brush my
teeth, and I need to change my clothes. It feels like days since my last
shower.
I think it is days. You look terrible, Josh agreed. He reached over and
pulled loose a strand of blond hair that had stuck to his sister s cheek.
I feel terrible, Sophie whispered. Remember that time last summer when we
were in Long Beach and I had all that ice cream, then ate the chili dog and
the curly fries and had the extra-large root beer?
Josh grinned. And you finished off my buffalo wings. And my ice cream!
Sophie smiled at the memory, but her grin quickly faded. Although the
temperature that day had risen into the hundreds, she d started shivering,
icy beads of sweat running down her back as a ball of iron settled into the
pit of her stomach. Luckily, she hadn't fastened her seat belt before she d
thrown up, but the results had still been spectacularly messy, and the car
had been unusable for at least a week afterward. That s how I feel right
now: cold, shivery, aching all over.
Well, try not to throw up in here, Josh murmured. I don't think Roux, our
cheerful server, would be too impressed.
Roux had worked in the caf for four years, and in that time he had been
robbed twice and threatened often but never hurt. The all-night caf saw all
sorts of strange and often dangerous characters come through the doors, and
Roux decided that this unusual quartet certainly qualified as the first sort
and maybe even both. The two teenagers were dirty and smelly and looked
terrified and exhausted. The older man maybe the kids grandfather, Roux
thought was not in much better shape. Only the fourth member of the group the
red-haired, green-eyed young woman wearing a black top, black trousers and
chunky combat boots looked bright and alert. He wondered what her
relationship was to the others; she certainly didn't look as if she was
related to any of them, but the boy and girl were alike enough to be twins.
Roux had hesitated when the old man had produced a credit card to pay for the
two hot chocolates. People usually paid cash for something so small, and he
wondered if the card was stolen. I ve run out of euros, the old man said
with a smile. Could you ring up twenty and give me some cash? Roux thought
he spoke French with a peculiar, old-fashioned, almost formal lilt.
It is strictly against our policy , Roux began, but another look at the
hard-eyed red-haired girl made him reconsider. He attempted a smile at her as
he said, Sure, I think I can do that. If the card had been reported stolen,
it wouldn't scan in the machine anyway.
I would be very grateful. The man smiled. And could you give me some
coins?
Roux rang up eight euro for the two hot chocolates and swiped the Visa for
twenty euro. He was surprised that it was an American credit card; he would
have sworn by his accent that the man was French. There was a delay and then
the card went through, and he deducted the cost of the two drinks and handed
over the change in one-and two-euro coins. Roux went back to the math
textbook hidden under the counter. He d been wrong about the group. It wasn't
the first time and wouldn't be the last. They were probably visitors just off
one of the early-morning trains; they were nothing out of the ordinary.
Well, maybe not all of them. Keeping his head down, he raised his eyes to
look at the red-haired young woman. She was standing with her back to him,
talking to the old man. And then she slowly and deliberately turned to look
at him. She smiled, the merest curl of her lips, and Roux suddenly found his
textbook very interesting.
Flamel stood at the caf counter and looked at Scathach. I want you to stay
here, he said softly, slipping from French into Latin. His eyes flickered to
where the twins sat drinking their hot chocolate. Watch over them. I ll go
find a phone.
The Shadow nodded. Be careful. If anything happens and we get separated,
let s meet back in Montmartre. Machiavelli will never expect us to double
back. We ll wait outside one of the restaurants maybe La Maison Rose for five
minutes at the top of every hour.
Agreed. But if I m not back by noon, he continued very softly, I want you
to take the twins and leave.
I will not abandon you, Scathach said evenly.
If I don't come back, it s because Machiavelli has me, the Alchemyst said
seriously. Scathach, even you would not be able to rescue me from his army.
I ve faced down armies before.
Flamel reached out and laid his hand on the Warrior s shoulder. The twins
are our priority now. They must be protected at all cost. Continue Sophie s
training; find someone to Awaken Josh and train him. And rescue my dear
Perenelle, if you can. And if I die, tell her my ghost will find her, he
added. Then, before she could say anything else, he turned and strode out
into the chilly predawn air.
Hurry back , Scatty whispered, but Flamel had gone. If he was captured, she
decided, no matter what he said, she was going to tear this city apart until
she found him. Taking a deep breath, she looked over her shoulder and found
the shaven-headed assistant staring at her. There was a spiderweb tattooed
onto the side of his neck, and the entire length of both of his ears was
pierced with at least a dozen little studs. She wondered how painful that had
been. She d always wanted pierced ears, but her flesh simply healed too
quickly, and she d no sooner had the piercing done than the hole closed up.
Something to drink? Roux asked, smiling nervously, a metal ball visible in
his tongue.
Water, Scatty said.
Sure. Perrier?
>
Tap. No ice, she added, and turned away to join the twins at the table. She
spun a chair around and straddled it, leaning her forearms across the top of
the chair and resting her chin on her arms.
Nicholas has gone to try and get in touch with my grandmother to see if she
knows anyone here. I m not sure what we re going to do if he cannot get
through.
Why? Sophie asked.
Scatty shook her head. We ve got to get off the streets. We were lucky to
get away from Sacre -Coeur before the police threw up a cordon around it. No
doubt they have found that stunned officer by now, so their search will have
moved outward, and the patrols will have our descriptions. It s only a matter
of time before we re spotted.
What will happen then? Josh wondered aloud.
Scathach s smile was terrifying. Then they ll see why I am called the
Warrior.
But what happens if we re caught? Josh persisted. He still found the idea
of being hunted by the police nearly incomprehensible. It was almost easier
to imagine being hunted by mythical creatures or immortal humans. What would
happen to us?
You would be turned over to Machiavelli. The Dark Elders would consider you
pair quite a prize.
What Sophie looked quickly at her brother. What would they do to us?
You really don't want to know, Scathach said sincerely, but trust me when
I tell you that it would not be pleasant.
And what about you? Josh asked.
I have no friends amongst the Dark Elders, Scathach said softly. I ve been
their enemy for over two and a half thousand years. I would imagine they have
a very special Shadowrealm prison prepared for me. Something cold and wet.
They know I hate that. She smiled, the tips of her teeth pressing against
her lips. But they haven t got us yet, she said lightly, and they ll not
get us easily. She turned to squint at Sophie. You look terrible.
So I've been told, Sophie said, wrapping both hands around the steaming mug
of chocolate and bringing it to her lips. She breathed deeply. She could
smell every subtlety in the rich aroma of cocoa and felt her stomach rumble,
reminding her that it had been a long time since they had eaten. The hot
chocolate tasted bitter on her tongue, eye-wateringly strong, and she
remembered reading somewhere that European chocolate had a greater cocoa
content than the American chocolate she had grown up with.