Nicholas Flamel 2 - The Magician sotinf-2

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by Michael Scott


  I will destroy you: not even your Elder master will be able to protect you

  from my wrath.

  don't you dare threaten me! Dee said, his voice an ugly snarl. And I don't

  need my Elder to protect me.

  Fear me, Magician, for you have made an enemy of me.

  Do you know what I do to those who frighten me? Dee demanded, his accent

  thickening. I destroy them! The room suddenly filled with the stench of

  sulfur, and then the bone walls began to run and melt like soft ice cream.

  Flamel is not the only alchemist who knows the secret of transmutation, he

  said as the ceiling turned soft and liquid, long strands dripping down to the

  floor, covering Mars in sticky fluid. Then it began to rain bone in huge

  yellow drops.

  Destroy him! Mars howled. Phobos and Deimos leapt from the plinth onto the

  Elder s back, teeth and claws extended, huge eyes fixed on Dee.

  The Magician spoke a single word of power and snapped his fingers: the liquid

  bone instantly hardened.

  Niccol Machiavelli appeared in the doorway. He folded his arms and looked

  into the chamber. In the center of the room, caught as he tried to rise from

  the floor, the two satyrs on his back, was Mars Ultor, frozen in bone.

  So the catacombs of Paris have yet another mysterious bone statue, the

  Italian said mildly. Dee turned away. First you kill Hekate and now Mars,

  Machiavelli continued. And I thought you were supposed to be on our side.

  You do realize, he called after Dee, that we are both dead men. We ve

  failed to capture Flamel and the twins. Our masters will not forgive us.

  We ve not failed yet, Dee called back. He was almost at the end of the

  corridor. I know where this tunnel comes out. I know how we can capture

  them. He stopped and looked back, and when he spoke, the words came slowly,

  almost reluctantly. But Niccol we will need to work together. We will need

  to combine our powers.

  What do you intend to do? Machiavelli asked.

  Together, we can loose the Guardians of the City.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  T he Morrigan managed to struggle to her feet, but a spiderweb as thick as

  her arm wrapped around her waist and twisted between her legs, entangling

  them, and she fell. She started to slide over the side of the water tower

  when a second and then a third web caught her, curling around her body,

  wrapping it from neck to toes in a thick mummylike shell. Perenelle leapt off

  Areop-Enap s back and crouched beside the Crow Goddess. The head of her spear

  vibrated with energy, and red and white smoke coiled into the damp night air.

  You probably feel like screaming right now, Perenelle said with a wry

  smile. Go ahead.

  The Morrigan obliged. Her jaws unhinged, black lips parted to reveal her

  savage teeth and she howled.

  The nerve-shattering cry echoed across the island. Every unbroken pane of

  glass on Alcatraz shattered into powder, and the entire water tower swayed.

  Across the bay, the city came awake as business, house and car alarms along

  the waterfront burst into cacophonous life. Every dog within a hundred-mile

  radius of the island started yowling piteously.

  But the scream also brought the rest of the huge flock of gathered birds

  surging into the night sky in a thunderous explosion of flapping wings and

  raucous cries. Most were immediately entangled and brought down by a thick

  cloud of spiderwebs hanging in the air between the desolate buildings, draped

  across every open window, spun from pole to pole. The moment the ensnared

  birds hit the ground, spiders of every shape and size swarmed over them,

  cocooning them in thick silver webs. Within moments, the island fell silent

  again.

  A handful of Dire-Crows escaped. Six of the huge birds swooped low over the

  island, avoiding the festoons and nets of sticky web. The birds curled out

  over San Francisco Bay toward the bridge, soared high and then swung back to

  attack. Now they were above the entangling spiderwebs. They circled over the

  water tower. Twelve pitch-black eyes fixed on Perenelle, and razor beaks and

  dagger-tipped claws opened as they dropped silently toward the woman.

  Crouched over the Morrigan, Perenelle caught the flickering hint of movement

  reflected in her adversary s black eyes. The Sorceress brought the spearhead

  to blazing life with a single word and spun it in her hand, leaving a red

  triangle burning in the foggy air. The savage birds flew through the red

  fire and changed.

  Six perfect eggs dropped out of the sky and were plucked out of midair by

  strands of gossamer-thin spiderweb. Breakfast, Areop-Enap said delightedly,

  clambering down the side of the tower.

  Perenelle sat down beside the struggling Crow Goddess. Resting the spear on

  her knees, she looked out across the bay in the direction of the city she

  called home.

  What will you do now, Sorceress? the Morrigan demanded.

  I have no idea, Perenelle said truthfully. It seems Alcatraz is mine. She

  sounded almost bemused by the idea. Well, mine and Areop-Enap s.

  Unless you've managed to master the art of flight, you are trapped here,

  the Morrigan snarled. This is Dee s property. No tourists come here now;

  there are no sightseers, no fishing boats. You are still as much a prisoner

  as when you were in your cell. And the sphinx patrols the corridors below.

  She ll be coming for you.

  The Sorceress smiled. She can try. She twirled the spear. It hummed in the

  air. I wonder what this would turn her into: baby girl, lion cub or bird

  egg.

  You know that Dee will return and in force. He ll want his army of

  monsters.

  I ll be waiting for him, too, the Sorceress promised.

  You cannot win, the Morrigan spat.

  People have been telling Nicholas and me that for centuries. And yet, we re

  still here.

  What will you do with me? the Crow Goddess asked eventually. Unless you

  kill me, you know I ll never rest until you are dead.

  Perenelle smiled. She brought the spearhead close to her lips and blew gently

  on it until it glowed white-hot. I wonder what this would turn you into?

  she asked absently. Bird or egg?

  I was born, not hatched, the Morrigan said simply. You cannot threaten me

  with death. It holds no fear for me.

  Perenelle got to her feet and planted the butt of the spear on the ground.

  I m not going to kill you. I ve got a much more suitable punishment in store

  for you. She looked toward the skies, and the wind took her long hair,

  blowing it straight out behind her. I ve often wondered what it would be

  like to be able to fly, to soar silently through the heavens.

  There is no greater feeling, the Morrigan said honestly.

  Perenelle s smile was icy. That s what I thought. So I m going to take away

  that which you hold most precious: your freedom and your ability to fly. I

  have the most wonderful cell just for you.

  No prison can hold me, the Morrigan said contemptuously.

  It was designed to hold Areop-Enap, Perenelle said. Deep underground, you

  will never see the sunlight or fly in the air again.

  The Morrigan howled again and thrashed from side to side. The water tower

/>   shifted and trembled, but the Old Spider s web was unbreakable. Then the Crow

  Goddess abruptly fell silent. The wind picked up, and fog swirled around the

  two women. They could hear the clanging of distant alarms from San Francisco.

  The Morrigan began to heave a series of hacking coughs, and it took Perenelle

  a moment before she realized that the Crow Goddess was laughing. Although she

  had an idea she was not going to like the answer, Perenelle asked, And do

  you want to tell me what you find so amusing?

  You may have defeated me, the Morrigan heaved, but you are already dying.

  I can see the age on your face and hands.

  Perenelle raised her hand to her face and moved the spearhead so that it shed

  light on her flesh. She was shocked to discover a speckling of brown spots on

  the back of her hand. She touched her face and neck, fingers tracing the

  lines of new wrinkles.

  How long before the alchemical formula wears off, Sorceress? How long before

  you wither into shriveled old age? Is it measured in days or weeks?

  A lot can happen in a few days.

  Sorceress, listen to me now. Listen to the truth. The Magician is in Paris.

  He has captured the boy and loosed Nidhogg on your husband and the others.

  She coughed another laugh. I was sent here to kill you because you and your

  husband are worthless. The twins are the key to the future.

  Perenelle leaned close to the Morrigan. The spearhead shed a crimson glow

  over both their faces, making them look like hideous masks. You re right.

  The twins are the key to the future but whose: the Dark Elders or

  humankind s?

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  N iccol Machiavelli took a tentative step forward and looked down over the

  city of Paris. He was standing on the roof of the great Gothic cathedral of

  Notre Dame; below was the river Seine and the Pont au Double, and directly

  spread out before him was the broad parvis, the square. Holding tightly to

  the ornate brickwork, he drew in a deep shuddering breath and willed his

  thumping heart to slow. He had just climbed one thousand and one steps up out

  of the catacombs onto the roof of the cathedral, following a secret route Dee

  claimed he d used before. His legs were trembling with the effort and his

  knees ached. Machiavelli liked to think that he kept himself in good

  condition he was a strict vegetarian and exercised every day but the climb

  had exhausted him. He was also vaguely irritated that the strenuous climb

  hadn't affected Dee in the slightest. When did you say you were last up

  here? he asked.

  I didn't say, the Magician snapped. He was standing to Machiavelli s left,

  in the shadow of the south tower. But if you must know, it was in 1575. He

  pointed off to one side. I met the Morrigan right there. It was on this roof

  that I first learned of the true nature of Nicholas Flamel and the existence

  of the Book of Abraham. So perhaps it is fitting that it ends here too.

  Machiavelli leaned out and looked down. He was standing almost directly above

  the west rose window. The square below him should have been thronged with

  tourists, but it was eerily deserted. And how do you know Flamel and the

  others will come out here? he asked.

  Dee s small teeth flashed in an ugly grin. We know the boy is

  claustrophobic. His senses have just been Awakened. When he comes out of

  whatever trance Mars left him in, he s going to be terrified, and his

  heightened senses will only add to that terror. For the sake of his sanity,

  Flamel will have to get him above ground as quickly as possible. I know that

  there is a secret passage leading from the buried Roman city into the

  cathedral. He suddenly pointed down as five figures stumbled out of the

  central door directly below them. You see? he said triumphantly. I m never

  wrong. He looked at Machiavelli. You know what we have to do?

  The Italian nodded. I know.

  You don't look too happy about it.

  Defacing a beautiful building is a crime.

  But killing people is not? Dee asked.

  Well, people can always be replaced.

  Let me just sit, Josh gasped. Without waiting for a response, he crumpled

  out of his sister s and Saint-Germain s hands and sat down on a smooth

  circular stone set into the cobbled square. Bringing his knees up to his

  chest, he rested his chin on his kneecaps and wrapped his arms around his

  shins. He was shaking so hard that his heels were tapping off the stone.

  We really need to keep moving, Flamel said urgently, looking around.

  Give us a minute, Sophie snapped. Kneeling beside her brother, she reached

  out to touch him, but a spark cracked between her fingertips and his arm and

  they both jumped. I know what you re feeling, she said gently. Everything

  is so so bright, so loud, so sharp. Your clothes feel so heavy and rough

  against your skin, your shoes are too tight. But you do get used to it. The

  feelings do go away. He was undergoing what she d experienced only a couple

  of days ago.

  My head is throbbing, Josh mumbled. It feels like it s about to explode,

  like it s crammed with too much information. I keep thinking these strange

  thoughts .

  The girl frowned. That didn't sound right. When she d been Awakened, her

  senses had been overwhelmed, but it was only when the Witch of Endor had

  poured knowledge into her that she d felt as if her brain were about to

  burst. A sudden thought struck her, and she remembered that when she d raced

  into the chamber, she d seen the Elder s huge hand pressing on her brother s

  head. Josh, she said quietly. When Mars Awakened you, what did he say?

  Her brother shook his head miserably. I don't know.

  Think, she said sharply, and saw him wince at the sound of her voice.

  Please, Josh, she said quietly. This is important.

  You re not the boss of me, he muttered with a trace of a smile.

  I know. She grinned. But I m still your big sister now tell me!

  Josh frowned, but the effort hurt his forehead. He said he said that the

  Awakening wasn't a gift, that it was something I would have to pay for

  later.

  What else?

  He said he said that mine was one of the most powerful auras he d ever

  encountered. Josh had been looking at the god as he d spoken the words,

  seeing him for the first time with Awakened eyes, noticing the intricate

  detail on his helm and the ornate design on his leather breastplate and

  hearing clearly the pain in his voice. He said he was going to give me a

  gift, something I might find useful in the days to come.

  And?

  I have no idea what that was. When he put his hand on my head, I felt as if

  he was trying to push me through the floor. The pressure was incredible.

  He s passed something to you, Sophie said, worried. Nicholas, she called.

  But there was no response, and when she turned to look for the Alchemyst she

  found him, Saint-Germain and Joan staring back at the great cathedral.

  Sophie, Nicholas said calmly, without turning around, help your brother to

  his feet. We need to get out of here right now. Before it s too late.

  His calm, reasoned tone frightened her more than if he had shouted. Catching

  her brother under both arm
s, ignoring the rattling snap of their auras, she

  hauled him upright and turned around. Facing them were three squat mismatched

  monsters.

  I think it s already too late, she said.

  Over the centuries, Dr. John Dee had learned how to animate Golems and had

  also managed to create and control simulacra and homunculi. One of the

  earliest skills Machiavelli had mastered was the ability to control a tulpa.

  The process was surprisingly similar; all that really differed were the

  materials.

  They could both bring the inanimate to life.

  Now the Magician and the Italian stood side by side on the roof of Notre Dame

  and focused their wills.

  And one by one, the gargoyles and grotesques of Notre Dame came to creaking

  life.

  The gargoyles the water spouts moved first.

  Singly and in pairs, then in dozens and suddenly in hundreds, they broke free

  of the cathedral walls. Crawling out from the hidden places the unseen eaves,

  the forgotten gutters stone dragons and serpents, goats and monkeys, cats,

  dogs and monsters slithered down the front of the building.

  Then the grotesques the hideous carved statues came to lumbering life. Lions,

  tigers, apes and bears tore themselves free from the medieval stonework and

  clambered down the building.

  This is really very, very bad, Saint-Germain muttered.

  A crudely carved lion dropped to the ground directly in front of the

  cathedral door and padded forward, stone claws clicking and sliding on the

  smooth cobbles.

  Saint-Germain threw out his hand and the lion was engulfed in a ball of

  fire which had no effect on it, other than to burn off centuries of dirt and

  bird droppings. The lion kept coming. Saint-Germain tried different types of

  fire darts and sheets of flame, fire balls and whips but to no avail.

  More and more of the gargoyles dropped to the ground. A few shattered on

  impact, but most survived. They spread out, filling the square, and then they

  started to close in, tightening the noose. Some of the creatures were

  intricately and beautifully carved; others had been weathered to little more

  than anonymous lumps. The bigger gargoyles lumbered slowly while the smaller

  grotesques darted about. But they all moved in absolute silence, save for the

  grinding scrape of stone on stone.

 

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