The Warlock Read online

  ALSO BY MICHAEL SCOTT

  The Alchemyst

  The Magician

  The Sorceress

  The Necromancer

  This is a work of fiction. All incidents and dialogue, and all characters with the exception of some well-known historical and public figures, are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Where real-life historical or public figures appear, the situations, incidents, and dialogues concerning those persons are fictional and are not intended to depict actual events or to change the fictional nature of the work. In all other respects, any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Text copyright © 2011 by Michael Scott

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States by Delacorte Press, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

  Delacorte Press is a registered trademark and the colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.

  Visit us on the Web! www.randomhouse.com/teens

  Educators and librarians, for a variety of teaching tools, visit us at

  www.randomhouse.com/teachers

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.

  eISBN: 978-0-375-89954-6

  Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.

  v3.1

  This is for Anna,

  sapientia et eloquentia.

  Contents

  Cover

  Other Books by This Author

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-one

  Chapter Forty-two

  Chapter Forty-three

  Chapter Forty-four

  Chapter Forty-five

  Chapter Forty-six

  Chapter Forty-seven

  Chapter Forty-eight

  Chapter Forty-nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-one

  Chapter Fifty-two

  Chapter Fifty-three

  Chapter Fifty-four

  Chapter Fifty-five

  Chapter Fifty-six

  Author’s Note on Vimanas and Flight

  Excerpt from The Enchantress

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Nicholas Flamel is dying.

  This is the time I have feared for so long; this is the night when I might finally become a widow.

  My poor brave Nicholas. Even though he’s aged, weakened and utterly exhausted, he sat with Prometheus and me and poured the last of his strength into the crystal skull so we could track Josh into the heart of San Francisco, deep into Dr. John Dee’s lair.

  We watched in horror as Dee turned the boy into a necromancer, a summoner of the dead, and urged him to call forth Coatlicue, the hideous Archon known as the Mother of all the Gods. We tried to warn Josh, but Dee was too strong and cut the boy off from us. And when Aoife, Niten and Sophie arrived, Josh sided with Dee and his deadly companion, Virginia Dare. I cannot help wondering if he did so voluntarily.

  Watching Josh—our last hope, our final chance to defeat the Dark Elders and protect the world—leave with the enemy was too much for my husband, and he collapsed into unconsciousness. He has not awakened, and I no longer have the strength to revive him. What little power remains within me I must conserve for what is to come.

  One by one, we have lost those who might have fought alongside us: Aoife is gone, trapped in a Shadowrealm, forever locked in combat with the Archon Coatlicue. Scathach and Joan are in the distant past, there has been no communication from Saint-Germain, and we have now lost contact with Palamedes and Shakespeare. Even Prometheus is so weakened now after using the skull that he no longer has the strength to hold his Shadowrealm together, and it is beginning to disintegrate around him.

  Only Sophie remains, and she is completely distraught by her brother’s betrayal. She is somewhere in San Francisco, I don’t know where, but at least she has Niten to protect her. I must find her—there is much she needs to know.

  So it comes down to me, as I have always known it would.

  When I was a child, more than six hundred and eighty years ago, my grandmother introduced me to a hooded man with a hook in place of his left hand. He told me my future, and the future of the world. And then he swore me to secrecy. I have been waiting for this day my entire life.

  Now that the end is almost upon us, I know what I have to do.

  From the Day Booke of Nicholas Flamel, Alchemyst

  Writ this day, Wednesday, 6th June, by

  Perenelle Flamel, Sorceress,

  in the Shadowrealm of the Elder Prometheus,

  adjoining San Francisco, my adopted city

  WEDNESDAY,

  6th June

  he anpu appeared first, tall jackal-headed warriors with solid red eyes and saber-teeth, wearing highly polished black glass armor. They poured out of a smoking cave mouth and spread around Xibalba, some taking up positions in front of each of the nine gates that opened into the enormous cave, others sweeping through the primitive Shadowrealm, ensuring that it was empty. As always, they moved in complete silence; they were mute until the final moments before they charged into battle, and then their screams were terrifying.

  Only when the anpu were satisfied that Xibalba was deserted did the couple appear.

  Like the anpu, they were wearing glass and ceramic armor, though theirs was ornate rather than practical, and in a style that had last been seen in the Old Kingdom of ancient Egypt.

  Minutes earlier, the couple had left an almost perfect facsimile of Danu Talis to travel across a dozen linked Shadowrealms, some remarkably similar to earth, some completely alien. And although the couple were both by nature intensely curious about the myriad worlds they ruled, they did not linger. They raced through a complex network of leygates that would lead them to the place known as the Crossroads.

  There was so little time left.

  Nine gates opened out into Xibalba, each one little more than a roughly carved opening in the black rock wall. Avoiding the bubbling pits of lava that spat sticky strings of molten rock across their path, the couple traversed the width of the Shadowrealm from the ninth gate to the third, the Gate of Tears. Even the anpu, which were by nature fearless, refused to approach this cave. Ancient memories rooted deep in their DNA warned them that this was the place where their race had almost been exterminated af
ter they’d fled the world of the humani.

  As the couple neared the circular cave mouth, the crude and blocky glyphs carved over the opening began to glow with a faint white light. It reflected off their mirrored armor, illuminating the interior of the cave, painting the couple in stark black and white and, in that instant—briefly—they were beautiful.

  Without a backward glance, the couple stepped into the dark cave mouth …

  … and less than a heartbeat later, a couple dressed identically in white jeans and T-shirts winked into existence on the circular stone known as Point Zero before Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris, France. The man took the woman’s hand in his and together they set off at a brisk pace, picking their way through the debris of stones and broken statues that still littered the square where Sophie and Josh Newman had used Elemental Magic to defeat the cathedral’s animated stone gargoyles.

  And because this was Paris, no one looked twice at a couple wearing sunglasses at night.

  ire raged through the building. Dozens of alarms howled and shrieked and the air was filled with choking black smoke, thick with the reek of burning rubber and melting plastic.

  “Out, out, now!” Dr. John Dee used the short sword in his right hand to rip apart a heavy steel and wooden door, carving through it as if it were paper. “Down the stairs,” he ordered.

  Virginia Dare leapt into the opening without hesitation, sparks hissing in her long dark hair.

  “Follow me,” Dee commanded Josh, and ducked through the shredded door. Tendrils of the doctor’s yellow aura visibly streamed from his flesh, its rotten-egg stench hitting Josh Newman in the face as he hurried close behind.

  Josh was feeling sick to his stomach, and not just from the foul sulfurous cloud leaking from Dee. His head was pounding and tiny dots of color pulsed before his eyes. He was dazed, still shaking after his encounter with the beautiful Archon Coatlicue. And try as he might, he still couldn’t make any sense of the events of the past few minutes. He only had the vaguest idea how he’d ended up in this place. He remembered driving down country roads … on the freeway … and into the city. But he’d had no idea where he was going. All he’d known was that he was supposed to be somewhere.

  Josh tried to focus on the sequence of events that had brought him to the burning building, but the more he concentrated, the hazier those events became.

  And then Sophie had appeared. Foremost in Josh’s mind was the terrible change that had overtaken his twin. When Sophie had stepped into the doctor’s apartment moments earlier, Josh had been thrilled … but confused. Why was she there? How had she found him? The Flamels must have sent her, he realized. But it didn’t matter; she was with him and she could help him bring Coatlicue into this world. That was the most important thing.

  His happiness had been short-lived, though. It had quickly turned to fear, disgust and even anger at his sister’s actions. Sophie hadn’t come to help him, she’d … well, Josh didn’t know what she wanted. He’d watched, stunned, as her aura hardened to a sinister-looking silver armor around her body, and then she’d callously used a whip on the beautiful and defenseless Archon. Coatlicue’s agonized cries had been heartbreaking, and when she’d turned to Josh and stretched out her hand, the look of pain and betrayal in her huge eyes had been too much to bear. He was the one who’d called her from her Shadowrealm; he was responsible for her pain. And he was unable to help her.

  Aoife had leapt onto Coatlicue’s back and held her while Sophie beat her again and again with the terrible whip. And then Aoife dragged the wounded Archon back into her Shadowrealm. When Coatlicue disappeared, Josh had felt a moment of horrible loss. He had been close, so close to doing something remarkable. If Coatlicue had been allowed to return to this world, she would have … Josh swallowed a great mouthful of rubbery-tasting smoke and coughed, eyes watering. He wasn’t sure what she would have done.

  Two steps below, Dee turned to look back up at him, gray eyes wide and wild in the gloom. “Stay close,” he snarled. He raised his chin back toward the burning room. “You see? They did what they always do! Death and destruction follow the Flamels and their minions.”

  Josh coughed again, struggling to get fresh air into his lungs. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard the accusation. “Scathach said that.”

  “The Shadow’s mistake was choosing the wrong side.” Dee’s smile was ugly. “A mistake you too almost made.”

  “What happened up there?” Josh asked. “It was all so fast, and Sophie—”

  “This is hardly the time for explanations.”

  “Tell me,” Josh demanded angrily, and the foul air was now touched with the odor of oranges.

  Dee stopped. His aura was so bright his eyes and teeth appeared yellow. “Josh, you were moments away from changing the world forever. We were about to begin a process that would have turned this earth into a paradise. And you would have been the instrument of that change.” The doctor’s face transformed into a hard mask of anger. “Today the Flamels thwarted me. And do you know why? Because they—and the others like them—do not want the world to be a better place. The Flamels thrive in the shadows, they exist on the outskirts of society, living secret lives, living lies. They grow strong on the pain, the needs of others. They know that in my new world, there would be no shadows for them to hide in, no suffering for them to exploit. They do not want me—and the others like me—to succeed. You helped us to get perhaps closer than we have ever been.”

  Josh frowned, trying to make sense of what the doctor was saying. Was Dee lying? He had to be … though Josh couldn’t push away the feeling that there was an element of truth in what the immortal was saying. What did that make the Flamels?

  “Tell me this,” Dee said. “You saw Coatlicue?”

  Josh nodded. “I saw her.”

  “And was she beautiful?”

  “Yes.” He blinked, remembering. She was so beautiful, like no one he’d ever seen before.

  “I too have seen her true form,” Dee said softly. “She was one of the most powerful of the Archons, an ancient race, perhaps even an alien race, who ruled this world in the Time Before Time. She was a scientist using technology so advanced it was indistinguishable from magic. She could manipulate pure matter.” Dee eyed Josh carefully and continued slowly. “Coatlicue could have remade this world today, repaired it, restored it. But you saw what Aoife did to her?”

  Josh swallowed hard. He’d watched Aoife leap onto the Archon and drag her back toward the gaping entrance to her Shadowrealm. He nodded once more.

  “And you saw what your sister did to her?”

  “Yes.”

  “Sophie whipped her—and that was no ordinary whip, either. I’ll wager it was Perenelle’s tool, woven from snakes pulled from the hair of Medusa. The merest touch of it is agony.” Dee reached out and placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder and Josh felt heat flow down his arm. “Josh, Sophie is lost to you now. She is deep under the Flamels’ spell. She is their puppet, their slave. They will use her up, as they have used so many in the past.”

  Josh nodded for the third time. He knew there had been other twins before them, and knew also that they had not survived.

  “Do you trust me, Josh Newman?” Dee suddenly demanded.

  Josh looked at the Magician, opened his mouth to respond, but said nothing.

  “Ah.” Dee smiled. “A good answer.”

  “I didn’t answer.”

  “Sometimes no answer is an answer,” the immortal said. “Let me rephrase the question: do you trust me more than you trust the Flamels?”

  “Yes,” Josh said instantly. Of that he had no doubt.

  “And what do you want?”

  “To save my sister.”

  Dee nodded. “Of course you do,” he said, unable to keep a touch of scorn from his voice. “You are humani.”

  “She’s under a spell, isn’t she? How do I break that spell?” Josh demanded.

  Dee’s gray eyes turned to yellow stone. “There is only one way: you have
to kill whoever controls her—either Nicholas or Perenelle Flamel. Or both.”

  “I don’t know how.…”

  “I can teach you,” Dee promised. “All you have to do is trust me.”

  Glass exploded deep in the building, tiny, tinkling, almost musical sounds, and then the door above them burst open with the heat and a blast of air flowed down the stairwell. A series of rattling explosions shook the building, and cracks spiderwebbed the plasterwork. The metal handrail was suddenly too hot to touch.

  “What are you storing up there?” Virginia Dare yelled from the stairwell below. The immortal was outlined with a translucent green aura that lifted her fine black hair off her back and shoulders like a cloak.

  “Just a few small alchemical experiments …,” Dee began.

  A thunderous explosion dropped the trio to their knees. Bits of plaster rained down from the ceiling and a heavy smell of sewage filled the stairwell.

  “And one or two big ones,” he added.

  “We need to get out of here. The entire building is going to collapse,” Dare said. She turned and continued down the stairs, Dee and Josh close on her heels.

  Josh breathed deeply. “Am I smelling burning bread?” he asked, surprised.

  Dare glanced back up at Dee. “I don’t even want to know what that smell is coming from.”

  “No, you don’t,” the doctor agreed.

  When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Virginia flung herself against the double doors but bounced off them. They were padlocked, a thick chain woven through their handles.

  “I’m sure that breaches a fire code,” Dee murmured.

  Virginia Dare spoke in a language that had not been used on the American continent for centuries, then quickly shifted back to English. “Could this day get any worse?” she muttered.

  There was a click and then a hiss, and the sprinklers built into the ceiling spun to life, spraying water on the trio, laying an acrid-scented blanket over everything.