Nicholas Flamel 2 - The Magician sotinf-2

by Michael Scott

  had never asked to be Awakened; she hadn't wanted to know the Witch s magic

  or Saint-Germain s, either. But it had happened and she was dealing with it,

  and Josh would just have to get over it. Good night, she said. She closed

  the door behind her, leaving Josh alone in the kitchen.

  When he finished the last of the toast, he gathered up his plate and glass

  and carried them both to the sink. He ran hot water over the plate, then set

  it to drip dry in the wire dish rack beside the deep ceramic sink. Refilling

  his glass from the jug of filtered water, he crossed to the kitchen door,

  pulled it open and stepped out into the tiny garden. Although it was almost

  dawn, he didn't feel the least bit tired, but then again, he reminded

  himself, he had slept for most of the day. Over the high wall, he couldn't

  see much of the Parisian skyline except for the warm orange glow from the

  streetlights. He looked up, but there were no stars visible in the heavens.

  Sitting on the step, he breathed deeply. The air was cool and damp, just like

  San Francisco s, though it lacked the familiar salt tang that he loved; it

  was tainted instead with unfamiliar smells, few of which were pleasant. He

  felt a sneeze gathering at the back of his nose and sniffed hard, eyes

  watering. There was the stench of overflowing trash cans and rotting fruit,

  and he detected a nastier, fouler stink that was vaguely familiar. Closing

  his mouth, he breathed deeply through his nose, trying to identify it: what

  was it? It was something he d smelled very recently .

  Snake.

  Josh leapt to his feet. There weren t snakes in Paris, were there? Deep in

  his chest, Josh felt his heart begin to beat faster. He was terrified of

  snakes, a bone-chilling fear that he could trace back to when he d been about

  ten. He d been camping with his father in Wupatki National Monument in

  Arizona when he d slipped off a trail and slid down an incline, straight into

  a rattlesnake nest. When the dust had cleared, he d realized he was lying

  next to a six-foot-long snake. The creature had raised its wedge-shaped head

  and stared at him with coal black eyes for what was probably no more than a

  second though it felt like a lifetime before Josh had managed to scramble

  out, too terrified and breathless even to scream. He d never been able to

  work out why the snake hadn't attacked him, though his father told him that

  rattlesnakes were actually shy and that it had probably just eaten. He d had

  nightmares about the incident for weeks afterward, and after every one he

  would wake up with that smell of serpent musk in his nostrils.

  He was smelling it now.

  And it was getting stronger.

  Josh started backing up the steps. There was a sudden scrabbling sound, like

  a squirrel running up the side of a tree. Then, directly in front of him, on

  the other side of the small courtyard, claws, each one the length of his

  hand, appeared over the top of the nine-foot-high wall. They moved around

  slowly, almost delicately, questing for a hold, and then abruptly gripped

  hard enough for the talons to bite deep into the old bricks. Josh froze, all

  the breath leaving his body in one shocked exhalation.

  The arms that followed were covered in thick knobbled hide and then the head

  of a monster appeared over the wall. It was long and slablike, with two

  rounded nostrils on the end of a blunt snout directly over its mouth and

  solid black eyes sunk deep behind circular depressions on either side of its

  skull. Unable to move, unable to breathe, his heart hammering so hard it was

  physically shaking his body, Josh watched the huge head swivel lazily from

  side to side, an immensely long, ghastly white forked tongue flickering in

  the air. It froze, then slowly, very slowly, shifted its head and looked down

  at Josh. The merest tip of its tongue tasted the air and then it opened its

  mouth wide impossibly wide, enough to swallow him whole and the boy saw a

  mouthful of teeth: sharp, ragged curved daggers.

  Josh wanted to turn and run screaming, but he couldn't. There was something

  mesmerizing about the appalling creature clambering over the wall. All his

  life he d been fascinated by dinosaurs: he d collected fossils, eggs, bones

  and teeth even dinosaur coprolites. And now he was looking at a living

  dinosaur. There was even a part of his brain that identified the creature or

  at least, what it resembled. It was a Komodo dragon. They didn't grow much

  longer than ten feet in the wild, but he could already see that this creature

  was at least three times that.

  Stone cracked. An old brick exploded into dust, and then a second, a third.

  Then there was a crunching, snapping, ripping sound, and almost in slow

  motion Josh watched as the wall, with the creature draped over the top,

  swayed, then crashed to the ground. The metal door buckled in two, popped off

  its hinges and shattered against the water fountain, tearing a huge chunk out

  of the basin. The monster smashed to the ground, unaffected by the stones

  raining down around it. The noise jolted Josh free and he staggered back up

  the steps just as the monster lumbered to its feet and shuffled forward,

  heading straight for the house. The boy slammed the door closed and rammed

  home the bolts. He was turning away when through the kitchen window he

  spotted the figure in white, clutching what looked like a sword, step through

  the gaping hole that had been the wall.

  Josh grabbed the stone sword off the floor and dashed into the hall. Wake

  up! he shouted, his voice so filled with terror even he didn't recognize it.

  Sophie! Flamel! Anyone!

  The door behind him shook in its frame. He snapped a quick glance over his

  shoulder in time to see the monster s white tongue peel off the wood and

  glass.

  Help!

  Glass shattered and the tongue shot into the kitchen, sweeping plates to the

  floor, scattering pots and pans, knocking over a chair. Metal hissed where

  the tongue brushed against it; wood turned black and burned; plastic melted.

  A drop of the corrosive saliva dripped to the floor and bubbled on the tiles,

  eating into the stone.

  Instinctively, Josh lashed out at the tongue with Clarent. The sword barely

  touched it, but it suddenly disappeared, darting back into the creature s

  mouth. There was a single still moment, and then the monster rammed its

  entire head at the door.

  The door crumpled to matchwood; the supporting walls on either side cracked

  as stones were knocked out. The creature drew its head back and slammed it

  into the opening again, punching a large hole into the kitchen. The entire

  house creaked ominously.

  A hand fell on Josh s shoulder, almost stopping his heart. Now look what

  you've done: you've just gone and made it mad.

  Scathach strode into the wrecked kitchen and stood in the gaping hole created

  by the creature s blows. Nidhogg, she said, and Josh was unsure whether she

  was talking to him, which means the Disir are not far behind. She sounded

  almost pleased with the news.

  Scathach danced backward as Nidhogg s head slammed into the opening again.

  Its huge nostrils opened wide and its
white tongue slapped against the spot

  where, an instant before, the Shadow had been standing. A glob of spittle

  burned on the tile, turning it to a liquid sludge. Scathach s twin swords

  darted out, flickering gray and silver, and two long cuts appeared on the

  white flesh of the creature s forked tongue.

  Without taking her eyes off the creature, Scathach said to Josh, almost

  calmly, Get the others out of the house, I ll take care of this .

  And then an enormous claw-tipped arm smashed through the window, wrapped

  around the Warrior s body in a viselike grip and slammed her back against the

  wall with enough force to crack the plaster. The Warrior s arms were trapped

  against her body, her swords useless. Nighogg s huge head appeared in the

  ruined side of the house, and then its mouth opened wide and its tongue

  darted out toward Scathach. Once its sticky acid-coated tongue wrapped around

  the defenseless Warrior, it would drag her into its cavernous maw.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  S ophie flew down the stairs, sparks and streamers of blue fire trailing from

  her outstretched fingers.

  She d been standing in the bathroom brushing her teeth when the entire house

  had shaken. She d heard the rumbling crash of bricks, which had been followed

  a heartbeat later by her brother s scream. It had ripped through the silent

  house and was the most terrifying sound she had ever heard.

  She was running down the corridor past Flamel s room when the door opened.

  For a single instant she almost didn't recognize the confused-looking old man

  standing in the doorway. The rings under his eyes were so dark they looked

  like bruises, and his skin was an unhealthy yellowish hue. What s

  happening? he mumbled, but Sophie hurried past: she had no answers for him.

  All she knew was that her brother was downstairs.

  And then the entire house shook again.

  She felt the vibration through the floors and walls. All the pictures on the

  wall to her left shifted and tilted off center.

  Terrified, Sophie raced down the stairs to the first floor just as a bedroom

  door opened and Joan appeared. One moment the small woman was wearing shiny

  blue-green satin pajamas and the next she was clad in full metal armor, a

  long broad-bladed sword in her gloved hands. Get back, Joan snapped, her

  French accent pronounced.

  No, Sophie shouted. It s Josh he s in trouble!

  Joan fell into step beside her, armor clinking and rasping. OK then, but

  stay behind me and to my right, so I always know where you are, Joan

  commanded. Did you see Nicholas?

  He s awake. But he looked sick.

  Exhaustion. He daren t try any more magic in his condition. It could kill

  him.

  Where s Francis?

  Probably in the attic. But the room is soundproofed and he ll have his

  headphones on and the bass pumped up; I doubt he s heard anything.

  I m sure he felt the house shake.

  Probably thought it was a good bass line.

  I don't know where Scatty is, Sophie said. She was fighting hard to keep

  the bubbling panic inside from overwhelming her.

  With any luck, she s downstairs in the kitchen with Josh. If she is, then

  he s OK, Joan added. Now follow me. Holding the sword upright in both

  hands, the woman moved cautiously down the last flight of stairs and stepped

  into the broad marbled hallway at the front of the house. She stopped so

  suddenly that Sophie almost walked into her. Joan pointed toward the front

  door. Sophie spotted the ghostly white shape behind the stained-glass panels,

  and then there was a crunching snap and the head of an axe appeared through

  the door. Then, with a crack, the front door was smashed open in a shower of

  wood and glass fragments.

  Two figures stepped into the hallway.

  In the light of the ornate crystal chandelier, Sophie saw that they were

  young women in white chain-mail armor, their faces hidden behind helmets, one

  wielding a sword and an axe, the other carrying a sword and a spear. She

  reacted instinctively. Gripping her right wrist with her left hand, she

  splayed open her fingers, palm outward. Crackling blue-green flames splashed

  across the floor directly in front of the two girls, shooting upward in a

  solid sheet of wavering emerald fire.

  The women stepped through the flames without even pausing but stopped when

  they spotted Joan in her armor. They looked at one another, obviously

  confused. You re not the silver humani. Who are you? one demanded.

  This is my house, and I think that s my question, Joan said grimly. She

  turned sideways, left shoulder toward the women, holding her sword in both

  hands, the point moving in a slow figure eight between the warriors.

  Stand aside. We have no argument with you, one said.

  Joan lifted the sword, bringing the hilt close to her face, the tip of the

  longsword pointing straight up. You come into my home and tell me to stand

  aside, she said incredulously. Who are you what are you? she demanded.

  We are the Disir, the woman with the sword and spear said softly. We are

  here for Scathach. Our argument is only with her. But do not stand in our way

  or it will become your argument.

  The Shadow is my friend, Joan said.

  Then that makes you our enemy.

  Without warning, the Valkyries attacked together, one lunging with sword and

  spear, the other with sword and axe. Joan s heavy blade shifted, metal

  clanging, the movement almost too fast to see as she blocked sword thrusts,

  turned aside the axe and batted down the spear.

  The Disir backed away and spread out until they were standing on either side

  of Joan. She had to keep turning her head to be able to watch them both.

  You fight well.

  Joan s lips pulled away from her teeth in a savage smile. I was taught by

  the best. Scathach herself trained me.

  I thought I recognized the style, the second Disir said.

  Only Joan s gray eyes moved as she tracked the two warriors. I didn't think

  I had a style.

  Neither has Scathach.

  Who are you? the Disir on the right asked. In my lifetime I ve known only

  a handful who could stand against us. And none of them were humani.

  I am Joan of Arc, she replied simply.

  Never heard of you, the Disir said, and while she was speaking, her sister,

  standing to Joan s left, drew back her arm, poised to throw the spear

  The weapon burst into white-hot flames.

  With a savage howl, the Disir flung the spear to one side; by the time it hit

  the ground, the wooden shaft was little more than ash and the wickedly

  pointed metal head was melting into a bubbling puddle.

  Standing on the bottom step, Sophie blinked in surprise. She hadn't known she

  could do that.

  The Disir to Joan s right darted forward, sword and axe weaving a deadly

  humming pattern in the air before her, battering at Joan s sword, driving her

  back under the vicious onslaught.

  The second Disir rounded on Sophie.

  Setting the spear shaft alight and melting the head had exhausted her, and

  she slumped against the banister. But she needed to help Joan; she needed to

  get to Josh. Pressing hard on the underside of her wrist, Sophi
e attempted to

  call upon her Fire magic. Smoke curled from her hand, but there was no fire.

  The Disir strode forward until she was standing directly in front of the

  girl. Sophie was standing on a step, and the girls faces were almost level.

  So, you are the silver humani the English Magician wants so desperately.

  Behind her metal mask, the Valkyrie s violet eyes were contemptuous.

  Drawing in a deep shuddering breath, Sophie straightened. She stretched out

  both arms, fingers closed into tight fists. Closing her eyes, breathing

  deeply, trying to calm her thundering heart, she visualized gloves of flame;

  she saw herself bringing her hands together, shaping a ball of fire in her

  fists like dough and then flinging it at the figure standing before her. But

  when she opened her eyes, only the merest hints of gossamer blue flames

  danced over her flesh. She clapped her hands together and sparks danced

  harmlessly across the warrior s chain mail.

  The Disir tapped her sword against her gloved hand. Your petty fire tricks

  do not impress me.

  A tremendous crash from the kitchen shook the house again. The ornate

  chandelier over the center of the hallway started to sway to and fro,

  tinkling musically as the shadows danced.

  Josh, Sophie whispered. Her fear turned to anger: this creature was

  preventing her from getting to her brother. And the anger gave her strength.

  Remembering what Saint-Germain had done on the roof, the girl pointed her

  index finger at the warrior and unleashed her rage in a single focused beam.

  A dirty yellow-black spear of solid fire leapt from Sophie s finger and

  exploded against the Disir s chain mail. Fire splashed all over the warrior,

  and the force of the blow drove her to her knees. She shouted an

  incomprehensible word that sounded like a wolf s howl.

  Across the hall, Joan took advantage of the distraction and pressed her

  attacker hard, pushing her back toward the gaping ruin of a door. The two

  women were evenly matched, and while Joan s sword was longer and heavier than

  her opponent s, the Disir had the advantage of wielding two weapons. In

  addition, it had been a long time since Joan had worn armor and fought with a

  sword. She could feel the burn in the muscles of her shoulders, and her hips

  and knees were aching from the weight of the metal she was carrying. She had