The Sorceress sotinf-3 Read online

  "Wolves?" Josh asked shakily.

  "More bear than wolf," Nicholas answered quietly, looking around the alleyway, eyes narrowed. "And more wolverine than bear," he added as the vaguest hint of vanilla touched the air.

  "And no threat to us," Sophie announced, suddenly standing straighter. Raising her right hand, she pressed the thumb of her left hand against the gold circle burned into the flesh of her wrist.

  "No," Nicholas snapped, reaching out to push the girl's hand down. "I've told you; you cannot use your powers in this city. Your auras are too distinctive."

  Sophie shook her head indignantly. "I know what these things are," she said firmly. Then a tremor crept into her voice. "I know what they do. You can't expect us just to stand here while these things eat you. Let me take care of them-I can cook them to a crisp." Her anger quickly turned to excitement at the prospect, and she smiled. For an instant her bright blue eyes winked silver and her face became hard and sharp, making her look far older than her fifteen years.

  The Alchemyst's smile was grim. "You could do that. And I doubt we'd get a mile down the road before something much more lethal than these creatures caught up with us. You have no idea what walks these streets, Sophie. I'll take care of it," he insisted. "I'm not entirely defenseless."

  "They're going to attack," Josh said urgently, interpreting the creatures' body language, watching how they moved into an assault pattern. Somewhere at the back of his mind, he found himself wondering how he knew this. "If you're going to do something, you need to do it now."

  The Genii Cucullati had spread out, each taking up a position before Flamel and the twins. The creatures were hunched over, their backs arched, parkas stretched across broad chests, bulging shoulders and muscular arms. In the shadow of their hoods, blue-black eyes glowed over jagged teeth. They spoke to each other in what sounded like yips and growls.

  Nicholas pushed up the sleeves of his leather jacket, revealing the silver link bracelet and the two frayed multicolored friendship bracelets he wore around his right wrist. Twisting off one of the simple string bracelets, he rolled it between the palms of his hands, brought it to his lips and blew on it.

  Sophie and Josh watched as he tossed the little ball onto the ground in front of the Hooded Ones. They saw the colored strands fall into a muddy puddle directly in front of the largest of the creatures and braced themselves for an explosion. Even the terrifying creatures scrambled back from the tiny pool, claws slipping on the pavement.

  And nothing happened.

  The sound that came from the largest creature might have been a laugh.

  "I say we fight," Josh said defiantly, though he was shaken by the Alchemyst's failure. He'd seen Flamel throw spears of pure energy, he'd watched him create a forest out of a wooden floor-he'd been expecting something spectacular. Josh glanced over at his sister and knew that she was thinking exactly the same thing he was. In Flamel's aging and weakened state, his powers were fading. Josh nodded slightly and saw Sophie tip her head in return, then flex her fingers. "Nicholas, you saw what we did to the gargoyles," Josh continued, sure of his sister's and his own powers. "Together, Sophie and I can stand against anyone… and anything."

  "The line between confidence and arrogance is very fine, Josh," Flamel said quietly. "And the line between arrogance and stupidity even finer. Sophie," he added, without looking at her, "if you use your power, you condemn us to death."

  Josh shook his head. He was disgusted at Flamel's obvious weakness. Stepping away from the older man he shrugged off his backpack and tugged it open. Sticking up out of one side of the backpack was a thick cardboard tube, usually used to carry posters and rolled maps. Ripping off the white plastic cap, he reached in, grabbed the bubble-wrapped object inside and pulled it out.

  "Nicholas…?" Sophie began.

  "Patience," Flamel whispered, "patience…"

  The largest of the Hooded Ones dropped to all fours and took a step forward, filthy long-nailed claws clicking on the pavement. "You have been given to me," the beast said in a voice that was surprisingly high-pitched-almost childlike.

  "Dee is very generous," Flamel said evenly. "Though I am surprised that the Genii Cucullati would deign to work for a humani."

  The creature took another clicking step closer. "Dee is no ordinary humani. The immortal Magician is dangerous, but he's protected by a master infinitely more so."

  "Perhaps you should fear me," Flamel suggested with a thin smile. "I am older than Dee, and I have no master to protect me-nor have I ever needed one!"

  The creature laughed and then, without warning, leapt for Flamel's throat.

  A stone sword hissed through the air, slicing cleanly through the parka hood, cutting away a huge chunk of green cloth. The creature yelped and twisted its entire body in midair, curling away from the returning blade, which slashed across the front of the coat, chopping through buttons and destroying the zipper.

  Josh Newman stepped directly in front of Nicholas Flamel. He was holding the stone sword he'd pulled from the cardboard tube in both hands. "I don't know who you are, or what you are," he said tightly, voice trembling with adrenaline and the effort of holding the weapon steady. "But I'm guessing that you know what this is?"

  The beast backed away, blue-black eyes fixed on the gray blade. Its concealing hood was gone, cut to ribbons, the remnants hanging around its shoulders, revealing its head. There was nothing even vaguely human about the planes and angles of its face, Josh noted, but it was extraordinarily beautiful. He'd been expecting a monster, but the head was surprisingly small, with huge dark eyes sunk deep behind a narrow brow ridge, cheekbones high and sharp. The nose was straight, nostrils flaring. The mouth was a horizontal slash that now hung slightly open to reveal misshapen yellowed and blackened teeth.

  Josh's eyes flickered left and right at the other creatures. They too were focused on the stone sword. "This is Clarent," he said quietly. "I fought the Nidhogg in Paris with this weapon," he continued. "And I've seen what it does to your kind." He moved the sword slightly and felt it tingle, the hilt growing warm in his hands.

  "Dee did not tell us that," the creature said in its childlike voice. It looked over Josh's shoulder to the Alchemyst. "It is true?"

  "Yes," Flamel said.

  "Nidhogg." The creature almost spat the word. "And what happened to the legendary Devourer of Corpses?"

  "Nidhogg is dead," Flamel said shortly. "Destroyed by Clarent." He stepped forward and put his left hand on Josh's shoulder. "Josh killed it."

  "Killed by a humani?" it said incredulously.

  "Dee has used you, betrayed you. He didn't tell you we had the sword. What else has he not told you about: did he mention the fate of the Disir in Paris? Did he tell you about the Sleeping God?"

  The three creatures slipped back into their own language, yipping and growling among themselves; then the largest turned to regard Josh again. A black tongue danced in the air. "These things are of little consequence. I see before me a frightened humani boy. I can hear his muscles straining as he struggles to hold the sword steady. I can taste his fear on the air."

  "And yet, despite the fear you can smell, he still attacked you," Flamel said quietly. "What does that suggest?"

  The creature's shoulders moved in an awkward shrug. "That he's either a fool or a hero."

  "And you and your kind have always been vulnerable to both," Flamel said.

  "True, but there are no more heroes left in the world. None to attack us. Humani no longer believe in our kind. That makes us invisible… and invulnerable."

  Josh grunted as he brought the tip of the sword up. "Not to Clarent."

  The creature tilted its head and then nodded. "Not to the Coward's Blade, that is true. But there are three of us and we are fast, so fast," it added with a grin that exposed its jagged teeth. "I think we can take you, boy; cut the sword from your hands before you even know it's-"

  Instincts Josh didn't know he possessed warned him that the creature was going to attack t
he moment it stopped speaking. Then it would all be over. Without thinking, he jabbed straight out in a thrust Joan of Arc had taught him. The blade hummed as the point stabbed at the monster's exposed throat. Josh knew that all he needed to do was to scratch the horror with the sword: a single cut had all but destroyed Nidhogg.

  Laughing, the creature danced back out of range. "Too slow, humani, too slow. I saw your knuckles strain and whiten the moment before you thrust."

  And at that instant Josh knew they had lost. The Genii Cucullati were just too fast.

  But over his left shoulder, he heard Flamel chuckle.

  Josh stared directly at the creature. He knew that the last thing he could do was turn around, but he wondered what had amused the Alchemyst. He looked closely at the Hooded One. But nothing had changed… except that when the monster had darted out of range, it had landed in the puddle of dirty water.

  "Has fear driven you mad, Alchemyst?" the creature demanded.

  "You must know the Elder Iris, the daughter of Electra?" Flamel asked conversationally, and stepped around Josh. The Alchemyst's narrow face had turned hard and expressionless, lips a thin line, pale eyes closed to little more than slits.

  The creature's blue-black eyes widened in horror. It looked down.

  The dirty water curling around the creature's feet had suddenly bloomed with a rainbow of colors bleeding out of the ragged strands of Flamel's woven bracelet. The Genii Cucullati attempted to leap back, but its two front paws were stuck fast in the puddle. "Release me, humani," it screeched, its childlike voice filled with terror. The creature frantically tried to push itself free. Digging in with its claws, it tried to get traction, but the tip of one of its rear legs touched the edge of the pool and it howled once more. It yanked its paw back and a curling claw ripped off, stuck at the edge of the water. The creature barked and its two companions darted forward to grab hold of it, attempting to pull it away from the swirling colored liquid.

  "Decades ago," Flamel continued, "Perenelle and I rescued Iris from her sisters and in return, she gave me these bracelets. I watched her weave them out of her own rainbow-hued aura. She told me that one day they would bring a little color into my life."

  Twisting swirls of color began to creep up the Genii Cucullati's leg. Black nails turned green, then red, then filthy purple fur changed to shimmering violet.

  "You will die for this," the creature snarled, its voice even higher, bright blue eyes wide with terror.

  "I'll die someday," Flamel agreed, "but not today, and not by your hand."

  "Just you wait till I tell Mother!"

  "You do that."

  There was a pop, like a bubble bursting, and abruptly the rainbow colors raced up the monster's body, bathing it in light. Where the two others held it, the color spread to the claws and washed up over their skins, turning the green parkas into spectacular multicolored coats. Like oil on water, the colors shifted in mesmerizing patterns, forming new bizarre shades and incandescent hues. The creatures managed a single terrified howl of terror, but their cry was cut short and they slumped onto the sidewalk in a heap. As they lay unmoving on the ground, the riot of colors quickly flowed out of their flesh, returning their coats to their former drab green, and then their bodies started to change, bones cracking, muscles and sinews re-forming. By the time the color had seeped back into the pool, the creatures had resumed their semblance of humanity.

  Rain spattered along the length of the alleyway, and the surface of the multicolored puddle danced and shattered with the drops. For a single instant a perfect miniature rainbow appeared over it before fading away, leaving the puddle its previous muddy brown.

  Flamel stooped to pluck the remains of the friendship bracelet from the street. The entwined threads were now off-white, leached of all color. He straightened and looked back over his shoulder at the twins. Flamel smiled. "I'm not quite as helpless as I look. Never underestimate your enemy," he advised. "But this victory is yours, Josh. You saved us. Again. It's becoming quite a habit: Ojai, Paris and now here."

  "I didn't think-" Josh began.

  "You never think," Sophie interrupted, squeezing his arm.

  "You acted," Flamel said. "That was enough. Come; let's get out of here before they're discovered."

  "Aren't they dead?" Sophie asked, stepping around the creatures.

  Josh quickly wrapped Clarent in the bubble wrap and shoved it back into the cardboard tube. Then he pushed the tube into his backpack and heaved the bag onto his shoulders. "What happened?" he asked. "That colored water. What was that?"

  "A gift from an Elder," Flamel explained, hurrying down the alleyway. "Iris is called the goddess of the rainbow because of her multicolored aura. She also has access to the Shadowrealm waters of the river Styx," he finished triumphantly.

  "And that means?" Josh asked.

  Flamel's grin was savage. "The living cannot touch the waters of the Styx. The shock overloads their systems and knocks them unconscious."

  "For how long?" Sophie asked, glancing back at what looked like a bundle of cloth in the middle of the alleyway.

  "According to the legends-a year and a day." he enormous dining room shimmered in the late-afternoon sunshine. Slanting sunbeams ran golden on polished wood panels and bounced off the waxed floor, sparking highlights from a full suit of armor standing in the corner and picking out spots of color from display cases of coins that traced more than two millennia of human history. One wall was entirely covered with masks and helmets from every age and continent, their empty eye sockets looking down over the room. The masks surrounded an oil painting by Santi di Tito that had been stolen from the Palazzo Vecchio in Florence centuries earlier. The painting that now hung in Florence was a perfect forgery. The center of the room was dominated by a huge scarred table that had once belonged to the Borgia family. Eighteen high-backed antique chairs were arranged around the time-stained table. Only two were occupied, and the table was bare except for a large black phone, which looked out of place in the antique-filled room.

  Dr. John Dee sat on one side of the table. Dee was a small neat Englishman, pale-skinned and gray-eyed. He was wearing his customary charcoal three-piece suit, the only touch of color in the pattern of tiny gold crowns on his gray bow tie. He usually wore his iron gray hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, but it now hung loose around his shoulders, curling down to touch his triangular goatee. His dark-gloved hands rested lightly on the wooden table.

  Niccolo Machiavelli sat facing John Dee. The physical difference between the two men was startling. While Dee was short and pale, Machiavelli was tall, his complexion deeply tanned, emphasizing the one trait both men shared: cold gray eyes. Machiavelli kept his snow-white hair short and had always been clean-shaven, and his tastes tended toward a more elegant style. His black suit and white silk shirt were clearly custom-made, and his deep crimson tie was woven through with threads of pure gold. It was his portrait on the wall behind him and he looked little older now than he had when it had been painted, more than five hundred years before. Niccolo Machiavelli had been born in 1469; technically he was fifty-eight years older than the Englishman. He had actually died the year Dee was born, in 1527. Both men were immortal, and they were two of the most powerful figures on the planet. Over the centuries of their long lives, the immortals had learned to detest one another, though now circumstances required them to be uneasy allies.

  The two men had been sitting in the dining room of Machiavelli's grand town house off the Place du Canada in Paris for the past thirty minutes. In that time neither had spoken a word. They had each received the same summons on their cell phones: the image of a worm swallowing its own tail-the Ouroborus-one of the oldest symbols of the Dark Elders. In the center of the circle was the number thirty. A few years ago they would have received such summonses by fax or mail, decades ago by telegram and messenger, and earlier still on scraps of paper and parchment, and they would have been given hours or days to prepare for a meeting. Now the summons came by phone and the
response was measured in minutes.

  Although they were expecting the call, each jumped when the speakerphone in the center of the table buzzed. Machiavelli reached out to spin the phone around and check the caller ID before answering. An unusually long number beginning with 31415-he recognized it as a portion of pi-scrolled off the screen. When he hit the Answer button, static howled and crackled before dying away to a soft breezelike whisper.

  "We are disappointed." The voice on the phone spoke an archaic form of Latin that had last been used centuries before the time of Julius Caesar. "Very disappointed." It was impossible to tell whether the voice was male or female, and at times it even sounded as if two people could be talking together.

  Machiavelli was surprised; he had been expecting to hear his own Dark Elder master's scratchy voice-he'd never heard this speaker before. But Dee had. Although Dee's face remained impassive, the Italian watched as the muscles tightened in the English Magician's jaw and he straightened almost imperceptibly. So, here was Dee's mysterious Dark Elder master.

  "We were assured that all was in readiness… we were assured that Flamel would be captured and slain… we were assured that Perenelle would be disposed of and that the twins would be apprehended and delivered into our hands…"

  The voice trailed away into static.

  "And yet Flamel remains free… Perenelle is no longer imprisoned in a cell, though she is trapped on the island. The twins have escaped. And we still do not have the complete Codex. We are disappointed," the disembodied voice repeated.

  Dee and Machiavelli looked at one another. People who disappointed the Dark Elders tended to disappear. An Elder master had the power to grant human subjects immortality, but it was a gift that could be withdrawn with a single touch. Depending on how long the human had been immortal, sudden and often catastrophic old age raced through the body, centuries of time aging and destroying flesh and organs. In a matter of heartbeats, a healthy-looking human could be reduced to a pile of leathery skin and powdered bones.