The Sorceress sotinf-3 Page 5

  "But you never heard of the Witch giving all her knowledge to one person before, did you?" Josh demanded.

  Sophie caught the Alchemyst's arm and stepped in front of him. "Nicholas, what do we do?" she asked.

  "I've no idea," he admitted with an exhausted sigh. And in that moment, he looked ancient, with lines etched deeply onto his forehead and around his eyes, creases alongside his nose, deep grooves between his eyebrows.

  "Then who would know?" she snapped, a note of fear in her voice.

  "Perenelle," he said, and then nodded fiercely. "My Perenelle will know what to do. We've got to get you back to her. She'll be able to help. In the meantime, you've got to concentrate on being Sophie. You've got to focus on your own identity."

  "How?"

  "Think about your past, your parents, your schools, people you've met, friends, enemies, places you've visited." He turned to Josh. "You've got to help. Ask your sister questions about the past, about everything you've done together, the places you've been. And Sophie," he added, turning to look at the girl, "every time you begin to experience one of the Witch of Endor's memories, deliberately focus on something else, a memory of your own. You have to fight to keep the Witch's memories from overwhelming yours until we find a way to control this."

  Suddenly, a black London cab pulled up to the curb and the passenger window slid down. "Get in," a voice commanded from the shadows.

  No one moved.

  "We don't have all day. Get in." There was a hint of North Africa in the rich timbre of the voice.

  "We didn't call a cab," Flamel said, desperately glancing up and down the road. St Germain had said he was sending someone to them, but the Alchemyst had never imagined it was going to be anything as ordinary as a London taxi. Was this a trap? Had Dee caught up with them? He looked over his shoulder at the church. The door was open. They could dart up the steps into the sanctuary of the church, but once inside, they would be trapped.

  "This car was specially ordered for you, Mr. Flamel." There was a pause and the voice added, "The author of one of the most boring books I have ever read, The Philosophic Summary."

  "Boring?" Nicholas yanked the door open and pushed the twins into the gloom. "It's been acknowledged for centuries as a work of genius!" Climbing in, he slammed the door. "Francis probably told you to say that."

  "You'd better buckle up," the driver commanded. "We've got all sorts of company heading this way, none of it friendly and all of it unpleasant." he man's enormous bulk filled the front seat. He swiveled around to look at them through the glass separating the driver from the passengers, and the twins realized that it wasn't fat that made him so large, it was muscle. A sleeveless black-and-white striped shirt stretched tightly across his massive chest, and he was so tall that his smooth-shaven head brushed the top of the car's cabin. His skin was a deep rich brown, matching the color of his eyes, and his teeth looked almost too white to be natural. There were three short horizontal scars on each cheek just below his eyes. "You're barely in the country and you've managed to stir up quite a hornets' nest," he said, his voice a deep rumble. "On the way down here, I spotted some things that haven't walked this earth for generations." He grinned. "I'm Palamedes, by the way." Then he shook his head. "And don't ever call me Pally."

  "Palamedes?" Flamel asked in astonishment, leaning forward to get a better look at the driver. "Palamedes? The Saracen Knight?"

  "The same," the driver said, turning away, locking the steering wheel and screeching back into traffic without signaling. Car horns blared and tires squealed behind him. He held up his cell phone. "Francis gave me just the barest details. Usually, I don't get involved in the disputes between the various Elder factions-it's safer that way-but once he told me it was to do with the legendary twins"-his eyes watched them in the rearview mirror-"then I knew I had no choice."

  Josh reached down and squeezed his sister's hand hard. He wanted to distract her; he didn't want her thinking about Palamedes. Even though Josh had never heard of him, he had no doubt that the Witch's knowledge would tell Sophie about their driver. The man was huge, built like a linebacker or a professional wrestler, and he spoke English with a strange accent. Josh thought it might even be Egyptian. Four years ago, the entire Newman family had traveled to Egypt. They'd spent a month touring the ancient sites, and the man's lilting accent was similar to the ones he'd heard then. Josh leaned forward for a closer look at the man. Massive short-fingered hands gripped the steering wheel-and then he noticed that the man's wrists were thickened and his knuckles swollen and hard with calluses. Josh had seen similar hands on some of the sensei he'd trained with; they were usually signs of someone who had studied karate, kung fu or boxing for years.

  "Hang on." Palamedes made an illegal U-turn and headed back the way they'd come. "Just sit back and stay in the shadows," he warned. "There are so many cabs on the street that they're practically invisible; no one even looks at them. And besides, they won't be expecting you to return this way."

  Josh nodded. It was a clever strategy. "Who are 'they'?" he asked.

  Before Palamedes could answer, Nicholas suddenly stiffened, staring out the window.

  "You see them?" Palamedes asked in a deep rumble.

  "I see them," the Alchemyst whispered.

  "What?" Sophie and Josh said simultaneously, sitting forward, following the Alchemyst's gaze.

  "The three men on the opposite side of the street," he said shortly.

  A trio of shaven-headed, pierced and heavily tattooed young men swaggered down the center of the road. In their stained blue jeans, dirty T-shirts and construction boots, they looked threatening, but not particularly otherworldly.

  "If you squint," Flamel explained, "you should be able to see their auras."

  The twins closed their eyes to little more than slits, and they immediately saw the ugly gray tendrils of smoky light that flowed off the trio. The gray was shot through with purple.

  "Cucubuths," Palamedes explained.

  The Alchemyst nodded. "Very rare. They are the offspring of a vampire and a Torc Madra," Flamel told the twins. "They often have tails. They're mercenaries, hunters. Blood drinkers."

  "And as dumb as dirt." Palamedes pulled up beside a bus, shielding the car from the cucubuths. "They'll trace your scent as far as the church; then it will vanish. That will confuse them. With luck, they'll end up arguing with one another and start fighting."

  The car slowed, then stopped as the lights changed.

  "There, at the traffic lights," Nicholas whispered.

  "Yes, I passed them on the way down here," Palamedes said.

  The twins scanned the intersection but saw nothing out of the ordinary. "Who?" Sophie asked.

  "The schoolgirls," Palamedes rumbled.

  Two red-haired and pale-skinned young women were chatting, waiting for the lights to change. They were alike enough to be sisters and seemed to be wearing school uniforms. Both were carrying expensive-looking handbags.

  "Don't even look at them," Palamedes warned. "They're like beasts; they can sense when they're being watched."

  Sophie and Josh stared hard at the floor, concentrating fiercely on not thinking about the two girls. Nicholas picked up a newspaper he'd found on the backseat and held it open in front of his face, focusing on the most boring item he could find, the international exchange rates.

  "They're crossing right in front of the car," Palamedes murmured, turning to look back into the cabin, hiding his face. "I'm sure they wouldn't recognize me, but I don't want to take the risk."

  The lights changed and Palamedes pulled away with the rest of the traffic.

  "Dearg Due," Flamel said, before the twins could ask the question. He swiveled to look through the rear window. The girls' red hair was still visible as they disappeared into the crowd. "Vampires who settled what became the Celtic lands after the Fall of Danu Talis."

  "Like Scatty?" Sophie asked.

  Nicholas shook his head. "Nothing like Scatty. These are most definitely not
vegetarian."

  "They were heading toward the church too," Palamedes said, chuckling. "If they encounter the cucubuths, that should make for an interesting meeting. They hate one another."

  "Who would win?" Sophie asked.

  "Dearg Due, every time," Palamedes said with a cheery smile. "I fought them in Ireland. They're vicious fighters, impossible to kill."

  They continued down Marylebone Road before turning left onto Hampstead Road. Traffic slowed to a crawl, then finally ground to a halt. Somewhere ahead of them horns blared, and an ambulance wail started up. "We might be here for a while." Palamedes pulled the emergency brake and twisted in his seat once again to look at the twins and Flamel. "So you're the legendary Nicholas Flamel, the Alchemyst. I've heard a lot about you over the years," he said. "None of it good. Do you know, there are Shadowrealms where your very name is used as a curse?"

  The twins were startled by the vehemence in the man's voice. They were unsure whether he was joking.

  Palamedes focused on the Alchemyst. "Death and destruction follow in your wake-"

  "The Dark Elders have been ruthless in their attempts to stop me," Flamel said slowly, with a definite chill in his voice.

  "-as do fires, famines, floods and earthquakes," Palamedes rumbled on, ignoring the interruption.

  "What are you suggesting?" Nicholas asked pointedly, and for an instant there was a whiff of mint in the back of the taxi. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hands clasped in a tight knot.

  "I am suggesting that perhaps you should have chosen less populated places to live out your long life. Alaska, maybe, or Mongolia, Siberia, the Outback or some far reaches of the Amazon. Places without people. Without victims."

  An icy silence descended on the back of the car. The twins looked at one another, and Josh raised his eyebrows in silent question, but Sophie shook her head imperceptibly. She pressed her index finger to her earlobe; Josh got the message: listen, say nothing.

  "Are you suggesting I've caused the deaths of innocent people?" Flamel asked very softly.

  "Oh yes."

  Color flushed Flamel's pale face. "I have never-" he began.

  "You could have disappeared from this world," Palamedes pressed on, deep voice vibrating through the cab. "You faked your own death once, you could have done it again, and made a home someplace remote and inaccessible. You could even have slipped into one of the Shadowrealms. But you didn't; you choose to remain in this world. Why is that?" Palamedes asked.

  "I have a duty to protect the Codex," the Alchemyst snapped, genuine anger in his voice, the scent of mint stronger now, filling the air.

  Car horns started to blare again, and Palamedes swiveled in the seat, released the brake and drove on.

  "A duty to protect the Codex," he repeated, staring straight ahead. "No one forced you to become the Guardian of the book. You took that role gladly and without question… just like all the other Guardians before you. But you were different from your predecessors. They went into hiding with it. But not you. You stayed in this world. And because of that, many humani have died: a million in Ireland alone, more than one hundred and forty thousand in Tokyo."

  "Killed by Dee and the Dark Elders!"

  "Dee followed you."

  "And if I had surrendered the Book of Abraham," Flamel said evenly, "then the Dark Elders would have returned to this world and the earth would have learned the true meaning of the word Armageddon. Ripping open the Shadowrealms would have sent shock waves across the earth, bringing with it hurricanes, earthquakes and tsunami. Millions would die. Pythagoras once calculated that perhaps half the earth's entire population would be destroyed just by the initial event. And then the Dark Elders would have come pouring back into this world. You've met some of them, Palamedes; you know what they are like, you know what they are capable of. If they ever return to this planet, it will be a catastrophe of global proportions."

  "They say it will herald a new Golden Age," the driver replied mildly.

  Josh watched Flamel's face for his reaction; Dee had made the same claims.

  "That is what they say, but it is untrue. You've seen what they've done as they've tried to take the Book from me. People have died. Dee and the Dark Elders have no regard for human life," Flamel argued.

  "But have you, Nicholas Flamel?"

  "I don't like your tone."

  In the rearview mirror, Palamedes' smile was ferocious. "I don't care whether you like it or not. Because I really do not like you, nor those others like you, who think they know what is best for this world. Who appointed you the guardian of the humani?"

  "I am not the first; there were others before me."

  "There have always been people like you, Nicholas Flamel. People who think they know what's best, who decide what people should see and read and listen to, who ultimately try to shape how the rest of the world thinks and acts. I've spent my entire life fighting against the likes of you."

  Josh leaned forward. "Are you with the Dark Elders?"

  But it was Flamel who answered. His voice was scornful. "Palamedes the Saracen Knight has not taken sides in centuries. He is similar to Hekate in that respect."

  "Another of your victims," Palamedes added. "You brought ruin to her world."

  "If you dislike me so much," Flamel said icily, "then what are you doing here?"

  "Francis asked me to help, and despite his many faults, or perhaps because of them, I consider him a friend." The taxi driver fell silent, and then his brown eyes flickered in the rearview mirror to look over Sophie and Josh. "And, of course, because of this latest set of twins," he added.

  Sophie broke in and asked the question that was forming on her brother's lips. "What do you mean, the latest set?"

  "You think you're the first?" Palamedes barked a laugh. "The Alchemyst and his wife have been looking for the twins of legend for centuries. They've spent the past five hundred years collecting young men and women just like you."

  Sophie and Josh looked at one another, shocked. Josh lurched forward. "What happened to the others?" he demanded.

  Palamedes ignored the question, so the boy rounded on Nicholas. "What happened to the others?" he repeated, his voice cracking as it rose almost to a shout. For a single heartbeat his eyes blinked gold.

  The Alchemyst looked down, then slowly and deliberately peeled Josh's fingers off his arm where he had grabbed him.

  "Tell me!" Josh could see the lie forming behind the immortal's eyes and shook his head. "We deserve the truth," he snapped. "Tell us."

  Flamel took a deep breath. "Yes," he said finally. "There have been others, it is true, but they were not the twins of legend." Then he sat back in the seat and folded his arms across his chest. He looked from Josh to Sophie, his face an expressionless mask. "You are."

  "What happened to the other twins?" Josh demanded, voice trembling with a combination of anger and fear.

  The Alchemyst turned his face away and stared out the window.

  "I heard they died," Palamedes said from the front seat. "Died or went mad." he flaking sign had originally said CAR PARTS, but the second R had fallen off and had never been replaced. Behind a tall concrete wall tipped with shards of broken glass and curls of razor wire, hundreds of broken rusted cars rested one atop the other in precariously balanced towers. The wall surrounding the car yard was thick with peeling posters advertising long-past concerts, year-old "just released" albums and countless indy groups. Ads had been pasted over each other to create a thick multicolored layer, then covered again in graffiti. It was almost impossible to see the DANGER-KEEP OUT and NO TRESPASSING signs.

  Palamedes pulled the car up to the curb about a block away from the heavily chained entrance and turned off the engine. Wrapping both arms over the top of the steering wheel, he leaned forward and carefully took in his surroundings.

  Flamel had fallen asleep, and Sophie was lost in thoughts that occasionally turned her pupils silver. Josh pushed himself out of his seat and crouched on the floor behind
the glass partition. "Is that where you're taking us?" Josh asked, nodding toward the car yard.

  "For the moment." Palamedes' teeth flashed in the gloomy interior of the car. "It might not look like much, but this is probably the safest place in London."

  Josh looked around. The redbrick houses on either side of the narrow road were dilapidated beyond repair, and the whole area was shabby and run-down. Most of the doors and windows had been boarded over, and some had even been bricked up. Every pane of glass was broken. The rusted hulk of a burnt-out car squatted on concrete blocks by the side of the road, and nothing moved on the streets. "I'm surprised this area hasn't been redeveloped or anything."

  "It will be, eventually," Palamedes said ruefully. "But the present owner is prepared to sit on the land and let it appreciate in value."

  "What will happen when he sells it?" Josh asked.

  Palamedes grinned. "I'll never sell it." His thick right index finger moved, pointing straight ahead. "There used to be a car factory here, and there was full employment in these streets. When the factory closed in the 1970s, the houses began to empty as people died off or moved away looking for work. I started buying up the properties then."

  "How many do you own?" Josh asked, impressed.

  "All of them for about a mile in every direction. A couple hundred houses."

  "A couple hundred! But that must have cost you a fortune."

  "I've lived on this earth since before the time of Arthur. I've made and lost several fortunes. My wealth is incalculable… the hardest part is hiding it from the taxman!"

  Josh blinked in surprise; he never imagined an immortal having problems with the government. Then he realized that in these times of computers and other surveillance technology, it must be increasingly difficult to remain in hiding from the authorities. "Do people live here?" he asked. "I don't see anyone…"

  "You won't. The people"-he used the word carefully-"who live in my houses only come out at night."

  "Vampires," Josh murmured.