The Alchemyst Read online

  “Up.” Nick Fleming’s voice was warm against Josh’s ear. “This comes out in the empty shop next door to ours. We have to hurry. It’ll take Dee only a few moments to realize what’s happened.”

  Josh Newman nodded; he knew the shop. The dry cleaner’s had been empty all summer. He had a hundred questions, and none of the answers that ran through his mind was satisfactory, since most of them contained that one awful word in them: magic. He had just watched two men toss balls and spears of something—of energy—at each other. He had witnessed the destruction those energies had caused.

  Josh had just witnessed magic.

  But of course, everyone knew that magic simply did not and could not exist.

  CHAPTER THREE

  What was that disgusting smell?

  Sophie Newman was just about to press the Bluetooth headset back into her ear when she breathed deeply and paused, nostrils flaring. She’d just smelled something awful. Closing her phone and pushing her headset into a pocket, she leaned over the open jar of dark tea leaves and inhaled.

  She had been working in The Coffee Cup since she and her brother had arrived in San Francisco for the summer. It was an OK job, nothing special. Most of the customers were nice, a few were ignorant and one or two were downright rude, but the hours were fine, the pay was good, the tips were better and the shop had the added advantage of being just across the road from where her twin brother worked. They had turned fifteen last December and had already started to save for their own car. They estimated it would take them at least two years—if they bought no CDs, DVDs, games, clothes or shoes, which were Sophie’s big weakness.

  Usually, there were two other staff on duty with her, but one had gone home sick earlier, and Bernice, who owned the shop, had left after the lunchtime rush to go to the wholesalers’ to stock up on fresh supplies of tea and coffee. She had promised to be back in an hour; Sophie knew it would take at least twice that.

  Over the summer, Sophie had grown used to the smells of the different exotic teas and coffee the shop sold. She could tell her Earl Grey from her Darjeeling, and knew the difference between Javanese and Kenyan coffee. She enjoyed the smell of coffee, though she hated the bitter taste of it. But she loved tea. In the past couple of weeks she had been gradually sampling all the teas, particularly the herbal teas with their fruity tastes and unusual aromas.

  But now something smelled foul and disgusting.

  Almost like rotten eggs.

  Sophie brought a tin of loose tea to her face and breathed deeply. The crisp odor of Assam caught at the back of her throat: the stench wasn’t coming from there.

  “You’re supposed to drink it, not inhale it.”

  Sophie turned as Perry Fleming came into the shop. Perry Fleming was a tall, elegant woman who could have been any age from forty to sixty. It was clear that she had once been beautiful, and she was still striking. Her eyes were the brightest, clearest green Sophie had ever seen, and for a long time she had wondered if the older woman wore colored contact lenses. Perry’s hair had once been jet-black, but now it was shot through with strands of silver, and she wore it in an intricate braided ponytail that lay along her back almost to the base of her spine. Her teeth were small and perfect, and her face was traced with tiny laugh lines at the corners of her eyes. She was always much more elegantly dressed than her husband, and today she was wearing a mint green sleeveless summer dress that matched her eyes, in what Sophie thought was probably pure silk.

  “I just thought it smelled peculiar,” Sophie said. She sniffed the tea again. “Smells fine now,” she added, “but for a moment there, I thought it smelled like…like…like rotten eggs.”

  She was looking at Perry Fleming as she spoke. She was startled when the woman’s bright green eyes snapped wide open and she whirled around to look across the street…just as all the little square windows of the bookshop abruptly developed cracks and two simply exploded into dust. Wisps of green and yellow smoke curled out into the street and the air was filled with the stench of rotten eggs. Sophie caught another smell too, the sharper, cleaner smell of peppermint.

  The older woman’s lips moved, and she whispered, “Oh no…not now…not here.”

  “Mrs. Fleming…Perry?”

  The woman rounded on Sophie. Her eyes were wild and terrified and her usually faultless English now held a hint of a foreign accent. “Stay here; whatever happens, stay here and stay down.”

  Sophie was opening her mouth to ask a question when she felt her ears pop. She swallowed hard…and then the door to the bookshop crashed open and one of the big men Sophie had seen earlier was flung out onto the street. Now he was missing his hat and glasses, and Sophie caught a glimpse of his dead-looking skin and his marble black eyes. He crouched in the middle of the street for a moment, then he raised his hand to shield his face from the sunlight.

  And Sophie felt something cold and solid settle into the pit of her stomach.

  The skin on the man’s hand was moving. It was slowly flowing, shifting viscously down into his sleeve: it looked as if his fingers were melting. A glob of what appeared to be gray mud spattered onto the street.

  “Golems,” Perry gasped. “My God, he’s created Golems.”

  “Gollums?” Sophie asked, her mouth thick and dry, her tongue suddenly feeling far too large for her mouth. “Gollum, from Lord of the Rings?”

  Perry was moving toward the door. “No: Golems,” she said absently, “Men of Clay.”

  The name meant nothing to Sophie, but she watched with a mixture of horror and confusion as the creature—the Golem—on the street crawled out of the sun and under the cover of the awning. Like a huge slug, he left a wet muddy trail behind him, which immediately dried in the fierce sunlight. Sophie caught another glimpse of his face before he staggered into the bookshop. His features had flowed like melted wax and a fine web of cracks covered the skin. It reminded her of the floor of a desert.

  Perry dashed out into the street. Sophie watched as the woman pulled her hair free of its intricate braid and shook it loose. But instead of lying flat against her back, her hair flowed out about her, as if it were blown in a gentle breeze. Only there was no breeze.

  Sophie hesitated a moment; then, grabbing a broom, she dashed across the road after Perry. Josh was in the bookstore!

  The bookshop was in chaos.

  The once-neat shelves and carefully stacked tables were scattered and tossed about the room in heaps. Bookcases were shattered, shelves snapped in half, ornate prints and maps lay crushed on the floor. The stench of rot and decay hung about the room: pulped paper and wood turned dry and rotting, even the ceiling was scored and torn, plaster shredded to reveal the wooden joists and dangling electrical wires.

  The small gray man stood in the center of the floor. He was fastidiously brushing dust off the sleeve of his coat while two of his Golems explored the cellar. The third Golem, damaged and stiff from exposure to the sun, leaned awkwardly against a crushed bookcase. Flakes of gray mudlike skin were spiraling off what remained of his hands.

  The gray man turned as Perry, followed by Sophie, dashed into the bookshop. He gave a neat little bow. “Ah, Madame Perenelle. I was wondering where you were.”

  “Where is Nicholas?” Perry demanded. She pronounced the name “Nicola.” Sophie saw a static charge ripple down the woman’s hair, blue and white sparks crackling.

  “Downstairs, I believe. My creatures are looking for him.”

  Clutching the broom tightly in both hands, Sophie slipped past Perry and crept around to the other side of the room. Josh. Where was Josh? She had no idea what was happening and didn’t care. She just needed to find her brother.

  “You are looking as lovely as ever,” the gray man said, eyes fixed on Perry. “You haven’t aged a day.” He bowed again, an old-fashioned, courtly movement that he performed effortlessly. “It is always a joy to see you.”

  “I wish I could say the same for you, Dee.” Perry moved farther into the room, eyes darting from side to
side. “I recognized your foul stench.”

  Dee closed his eyes and breathed deeply. “I rather like the smell of brimstone. It is so…” He paused. “So dramatic.” Then his gray eyes snapped open and the smile faded. “We’ve come for the Book, Perenelle. And don’t tell me you’ve destroyed it,” he added. “Your continued remarkable good health is proof indeed of its existence.”

  Which book? Sophie wondered, glancing around the room; the shop was full of books.

  “We are the guardians of the Book,” Perry said, and something in her voice made Sophie turn to look at her. The girl stopped, mouth and eyes wide with horror. A silver mist surrounded Perry Fleming, rising off her skin in gossamer threads. Pale and translucent in places, it gathered thick and hard around her hands, making it look as if she were wearing metal gauntlets. “You will never get it,” Perry snapped.

  “We will,” Dee said. “We’ve accumulated all the other treasures over the years. Only the Book remains. Now, make it easy on yourself and tell me where it is….”

  “Never!”

  “I knew you would say that,” Dee said, and then the huge Golem launched himself at Perry. “Humans are so predictable.”

  Nick Fleming and Josh were opening the door of the dry cleaner’s when they saw Perry, followed by Sophie, race across the street and into the bookshop. “Get this door open,” Nick snapped as he reached under his T-shirt. From a simple square cloth bag dangling around his neck, he produced what looked like a small book bound in copper-colored metal.

  Josh slammed back the bolts and tugged open the door and Nick raced out, quickly thumbing through the rough-edged pages as he ran, looking for something. Josh caught a brief glimpse of ornate writing and geometric patterns on the thick yellowed pages as he followed Nick back into the bookshop.

  Nick and Josh arrived in time to see the Golem touch Perry.

  And explode.

  Fine, gritty powder filled the air, and the heavy black overcoat crumpled to the floor. For a moment, a miniature whirlwind spun there, churning up the dust, then it curled away.

  But Nick and Josh’s entry diverted Perry’s attention. She half turned…and in that instant Dee drew his left arm across his eyes and hurled a tiny crystal ball onto the floor.

  It was as if the sun had exploded in the room.

  The light was incredible. Blinding and harsh, it blanketed the room in its ghastly flare, and with the light came the smell: the stink of burning hair and overcooked food, smoldering leaves and scorched metal mingled with the acrid fumes of diesel.

  Josh caught a glimpse of his sister just as Dee tossed the crystal. He was partially shielded by Nick and Perry, both of whom were battered to the floor by the light. Josh’s vision became a kaleidoscope of black-and-white still images as the light seared the rods and cones at the back of his eyes. He saw Nick drop the metal-bound book onto the floor…saw two black-clad shapes surround Perry and vaguely heard her scream…saw Dee snatch the book with a grunt of triumph while Nick groped blindly on the floor.

  “You lose, Nicholas,” Dee hissed, “as you have always lost. Now I get to take those things most precious to you: your beloved Perenelle and your book.”

  Josh was moving even before he was aware of it. He launched himself at Dee, catching the small man by surprise. Although only fifteen, Josh was tall for his age, and heavy: he was big enough to be a linebacker, and the youngest on his football team. He knocked Dee to the ground, sending the book spinning out of his grasp. Josh felt the heavy metal cover beneath his fingertips and caught it—just as he was lifted straight off the floor and tossed into a corner. He landed on a pile of books that cushioned his fall. Black spots and darts of rainbow light moved across his eyes every time he blinked.

  Dee’s gray shape loomed over Josh, then his gloved hand reached down for the book. “Mine, I think.”

  Josh’s grip tightened, but Dee simply wrenched the book from his hand.

  “You. Leave. My. Brother. Alone.” Sophie Newman brought the broom down five times on Dee’s back, once for every word.

  Dee barely glanced at her. Clutching the book in one gloved hand, he caught the broom in the other and muttered a single word, and it immediately withered and turned to ragged pulpy splinters in Sophie’s hands. “You’re lucky I’m in a good humor today,” he whispered, “else I’d do the same to you.” Then Dee and his two remaining Golems swept out of the devastated bookshop, carrying Perry Fleming between them, and slammed the door closed. There was a long moment of silence, and then the last remaining undisturbed shelf of books clattered to the floor.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “I suppose calling the police is out of the question.” Sophie Newman leaned against a precariously listing bookcase and wrapped her arms around her body to stop herself from shaking. She was surprised that her voice sounded so calm and reasonable. “We’ve got to tell them that Perry’s been kidnapped….”

  “Perry’s not in any danger just yet.” Nick Fleming was sitting on one of the lower rungs of a short stepladder. He was holding his head in his hands and breathing deeply, coughing occasionally as he tried to clear his lungs of dust and grit. “But you’re right, we’re not going to the police.” He managed a wan smile. “I’m not sure what we could say to the police that would make any sense to them.”

  “I’m not sure that it makes much sense to us either,” Josh said. He was sitting on the only unbroken chair left in the bookshop. Although he’d broken no bones, he was bruised all over and knew he was going to turn several really interesting shades of purple over the next couple of days. The last time he’d felt like this was when he’d been run over by three guys on the football field. Actually, this felt worse. At least then, he knew what was happening.

  “I think that perhaps gas escaped into the shop,” Nick suggested cautiously, “and what we’ve all experienced and seen is nothing more than a series of hallucinations.” He stopped, looking at Sophie and Josh in turn.

  The twins lifted their heads to look at him, identical expressions of disbelief on their faces, bright blue eyes still wide with shock. “Lame,” Josh said finally.

  “Very lame,” Sophie agreed.

  Nick shrugged. “Actually, I thought it was a pretty good explanation. It covered the smells, the explosion in the shop and any…any peculiar things you thought you might have seen,” he finished hurriedly.

  Adults, Sophie had decided a long time before, were really bad at making up good excuses. “We didn’t imagine those things,” she said firmly. “We didn’t imagine the Golems.”

  “The what?” Josh asked.

  “The big guys were Golems; they were made out of mud,” his sister explained. “Perry told me.”

  “Ah, she did, did she?” Fleming murmured. He looked around the devastated shop and shook his head. It had taken less than four minutes to completely trash it. “I’m surprised he brought Golems. They are usually so unreliable in warmer countries. But they served his purpose. He got what he came for.”

  “The book?” Sophie asked. She had caught a glimpse of it in Josh’s hand before the small man pulled it free. Although she was standing in a shop full of books, and their father owned a huge library of antiquarian books, she had never seen anything like that particular one before. It looked as if it was bound in tarnished metal.

  Fleming nodded. “He’s been looking for that for a long time,” he said softly, his pale eyes lost and distant. “A very long time.”

  Josh rose slowly to his feet, his back and shoulders aching. He held out two crumpled pages to Nick. “Well, he didn’t get all of it. When he pulled the book out of my hand, I guess I must have been holding on to these.”

  Fleming snatched the pages from Josh’s hand with an inarticulate cry. Dropping to the floor, he brushed away shredded books and shattered shelving and laid the two pages on the floor side by side. His long-fingered hands were trembling slightly as he smoothed the pages flat. The twins knelt on the floor on either side of him, staring intently at the pages…and try
ing to make sense of what they were seeing. “And we’re certainly not imagining that,” Sophie whispered, tapping the page with her index finger.

  The thick pages were about six inches across by nine inches long and were composed of what looked like pressed bark. Tendrils of fibers and leaves were clearly visible in the surface, and both were covered with jagged, angular writing. The first letter at the top left-hand corner of each page was beautifully illuminated in gold and red, while the rest of the words were written in reddish black ink.

  And the words were moving.

  Sophie and Josh watched as the letters shifted on the page like tiny beetles, shaping and reshaping themselves, becoming briefly almost legible in recognizable languages like Latin or Old English, but then immediately dissolving and re-forming into ancient-looking symbols not unlike Egyptian hieroglyphs or Celtic Ogham.

  Fleming sighed. “No, you’re not imagining that,” he said finally. He reached down the neck of his T-shirt and pulled out a pair of pincenez on a length of black cord. The pincenez were old-fashioned glasses without arms, designed to perch on the bridge of the nose. Using the spectacles as magnifying glasses, Nick moved them across the wriggling, shifting words. “Ha!”

  “Good news?” Josh asked.

  “Excellent news. He’s missing the Final Summoning.” He squeezed Josh’s bruised shoulder, making him wince. “If you had wanted to take two pages from the book, rendering it useless, then you could not have chosen better than these.” The broad smile faded from his face. “And when Dee finds out, he’ll be back, and I guarantee you he will not just bring Golems with him next time.”

  “Who was the gray man?” Sophie asked. “Perry also called him Dee.”