Nicholas Flamel 2 - The Magician sotinf-2 Page 5

  Catherine de Medici is living off the Rue du Dragon.

  She s not French, Dagon mumbled stickily.

  Well, she was the mother of three French kings, Machiavelli said with a

  rare smile. But she is loyal only to herself . His voice trailed away and

  he straightened. But what do we have here?

  Dagon remained unmoving.

  Niccol Machiavelli swiveled the computer screen so that his servant could

  see the photograph of a man staring directly at the camera in what was

  obviously a posed publicity shot. Thick curling black hair tumbled to his

  shoulders, framing a round face. His eyes were startlingly blue.

  I do not know this man, Dagon said.

  Oh, but I do. I know him very well. This is the immortal human once known as

  the Comte de Saint-Germain. He was a magician, an inventor, a musician and an

  alchemist. Machiavelli closed the program and shut down the computer.

  Saint-Germain was also the student of Nicholas Flamel. And he s currently

  living in Paris, he finished triumphantly.

  Dagon smiled, his mouth a perfect O filled with razor teeth. Does Flamel

  know that Saint-Germain is here?

  I have no idea. No one knows the extent of Nicholas Flamel s knowledge.

  Dagon pushed his sunglasses back in place. And I thought you knew

  everything.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  W e need to rest, Josh said finally. I can t go any farther. He stopped

  and leaned against a building, bent over and wheezing. Every breath was an

  effort, and he was beginning to see black spots dancing in front of his eyes.

  Any moment now he was going to throw up. He felt this way sometimes after

  football practice, and he knew from experience that he needed to sit and get

  some liquids into his system.

  He s right. Scatty turned to Flamel. We need to rest, even if only

  briefly. She was still carrying Sophie in her arms, and with gray glimmers of

  light illuminating the Parisian rooftops toward the east, the first of the

  early-morning workers had begun to appear. The fugitives had kept to the dark

  side streets, and so far no one had paid any attention to the strange group,

  but that would quickly change as the street filled first with Parisians, then

  with tourists.

  Nicholas stood outlined at the mouth of the narrow street. He glanced up and

  down before turning to look over his shoulder. We have to push on, he

  protested. Every second we delay brings Machiavelli closer to us.

  We can t, Scatty said. She looked at Flamel, and for a single instant, her

  bright green eyes glowed. The twins need to rest, she said, and then added

  softly, And so do you, Nicholas. You re exhausted.

  The Alchemyst considered her and then he nodded and his shoulders slumped.

  You re right, of course. I ll do as you say.

  Maybe we could check into a hotel? Josh suggested. He was achingly tired,

  his eyes and throat gritty, head throbbing.

  Scatty shook her head. They would ask for our passports . Sophie stirred in

  her arms, and Scathach gently eased her to the ground and leaned her up

  against the wall.

  Josh was immediately by her side. You re awake, he said, relief in his

  voice.

  I wasn't really asleep, Sophie answered, her tongue feeling too big for her

  mouth. I knew what was going on, but it was as if I was looking at it from

  the outside. Like watching something on TV. She pressed her hands into the

  small of her back and pushed hard as she rotated her neck. Ouch. That hurt.

  What hurts? Josh asked immediately.

  Everything. She attempted to straighten, but aching muscles protested and a

  sick headache pulsed behind her eyes.

  Is there anyone here you can call for help? Josh looked from Nicholas to

  Scathach. Are there any more immortals or Elders?

  There are immortals and Elders everywhere, Scatty said. Few are as

  friendly as we are, though, she added with a humorless smile.

  There will be immortals in Paris, Flamel agreed slowly, but I've no idea

  where to find one, and even if I did, I would have no idea where their

  allegiances lay. Perenelle would know, he added, a hint of sadness in his

  voice.

  Would your grandmother know? Josh asked Scatty.

  The Warrior glanced at him. I m sure she would. She turned to look at

  Sophie. Amongst all of your new memories, can you recall anything about

  immortals or Elders living in Paris?

  Sophie closed her eyes and tried to concentrate, but the scenes and images

  that flashed by fire raining from a bloodred sky, a huge flat-topped pyramid

  about to be overwhelmed by a gigantic wave were chaotic and terrifying. She

  started to shake her head, then stopped. Even the simplest of movements hurt.

  I can t think, she sighed. My head is so full, it feels like it s going to

  burst.

  The Witch might know, Flamel said, but we have no way of getting in touch

  with her. She has no phone.

  What about her neighbors, friends? Josh asked. He turned back to his

  sister. I know you don't want to think about this, but you have to. It s

  important.

  I can t think , Sophie began, looking away and shaking her head.

  don't think. Just answer, Josh snapped. He took a quick breath and lowered

  his voice, speaking slowly. Sis, who is the Witch of Endor s closest friend

  in Ojai?

  Sophie s bright blue eyes closed again and she swayed as if she was about to

  faint. When her eyes opened, she shook her head. She has no friends there.

  But everyone knows her. Maybe we could call the store next to hers , she

  suggested. Then she shook her head. It s too late there.

  Flamel nodded. Sophie s right; it ll be closed at this time of night.

  It ll be closed, all right, Josh agreed, a touch of excitement entering his

  voice, but when we left Ojai, the place was in chaos. And don't forget, I

  drove a Hummer into the fountain in Libbey Park; that had to have caught

  someone s attention. I ll bet the police and the press are there right now.

  And the press might answer some questions if we ask the right ones. I mean,

  if the Witch s shop was damaged they re sure to be looking for a story.

  It might work , Flamel began. I just need to know the name of the

  newspaper.

  Ojai Valley News, 646-1476, Sophie said immediately. I remember that

  much or the Witch does, she added, and then shuddered. There were so many

  memories in her head, so many thoughts and ideas and not just the terrifying

  and fantastic images of people and places that should never have existed, but

  also ordinary mundane thoughts: phone numbers and recipes, names and

  addresses of people she d never heard of, pictures from old TV shows, posters

  from movies. She even knew the name of every single Elvis Presley song.

  But all of these were the Witch s memories. And right now, she had to

  struggle to remember her own cell phone number. What would happen if the

  Witch s memories grew so strong that they overwhelmed her own? She tried to

  focus on the faces of her parents, Richard and Sara. Hundreds of faces

  flickered past, images of figures carved in stone, the heads of giant

  statues, paintings daubed onto the sides of buildings, tiny shapes etched in

  shards of pottery. Sophie
started to get frantic. Why couldn't she remember

  her parents faces? Closing her eyes, she concentrated hard on the last time

  she had seen her mother and father. It would have been about three weeks ago,

  just before they had left for the dig in Utah. More faces tumbled behind

  Sophie s closed eyes: images on scraps of parchment, fragments of manuscripts

  or cracked oil paintings; faces in faded sepia photographs, in blurred

  newspapers

  Sophie?

  And then, in a flash of color, the faces of her parents popped into her head,

  and Sophie felt the Witch s memories fade away and her own come back to the

  surface. She suddenly knew her own phone number.

  Sis?

  She opened her eyes and blinked at her brother. He was standing directly in

  front of her, his face close to hers, his eyes pinched with concern.

  I m OK, she whispered. I was just trying to remember something.

  What?

  She attempted a smile. My phone number.

  Your phone number? Why? He stopped, and then added, No one ever remembers

  their own phone number. When was the last time you called yourself?

  Hands wrapped around steaming mugs of bittersweet hot chocolate, Sophie and

  Josh sat opposite one another in an otherwise empty all-night caf close to

  the Gare du Nord Metro station. There was only one staff member behind the

  counter, a surly shaven-headed assistant wearing an upside-down name tag that

  said ROUX.

  I need a shower, Sophie said grimly. I need to wash my hair and brush my

  teeth, and I need to change my clothes. It feels like days since my last

  shower.

  I think it is days. You look terrible, Josh agreed. He reached over and

  pulled loose a strand of blond hair that had stuck to his sister s cheek.

  I feel terrible, Sophie whispered. Remember that time last summer when we

  were in Long Beach and I had all that ice cream, then ate the chili dog and

  the curly fries and had the extra-large root beer?

  Josh grinned. And you finished off my buffalo wings. And my ice cream!

  Sophie smiled at the memory, but her grin quickly faded. Although the

  temperature that day had risen into the hundreds, she d started shivering,

  icy beads of sweat running down her back as a ball of iron settled into the

  pit of her stomach. Luckily, she hadn't fastened her seat belt before she d

  thrown up, but the results had still been spectacularly messy, and the car

  had been unusable for at least a week afterward. That s how I feel right

  now: cold, shivery, aching all over.

  Well, try not to throw up in here, Josh murmured. I don't think Roux, our

  cheerful server, would be too impressed.

  Roux had worked in the caf for four years, and in that time he had been

  robbed twice and threatened often but never hurt. The all-night caf saw all

  sorts of strange and often dangerous characters come through the doors, and

  Roux decided that this unusual quartet certainly qualified as the first sort

  and maybe even both. The two teenagers were dirty and smelly and looked

  terrified and exhausted. The older man maybe the kids grandfather, Roux

  thought was not in much better shape. Only the fourth member of the group the

  red-haired, green-eyed young woman wearing a black top, black trousers and

  chunky combat boots looked bright and alert. He wondered what her

  relationship was to the others; she certainly didn't look as if she was

  related to any of them, but the boy and girl were alike enough to be twins.

  Roux had hesitated when the old man had produced a credit card to pay for the

  two hot chocolates. People usually paid cash for something so small, and he

  wondered if the card was stolen. I ve run out of euros, the old man said

  with a smile. Could you ring up twenty and give me some cash? Roux thought

  he spoke French with a peculiar, old-fashioned, almost formal lilt.

  It is strictly against our policy , Roux began, but another look at the

  hard-eyed red-haired girl made him reconsider. He attempted a smile at her as

  he said, Sure, I think I can do that. If the card had been reported stolen,

  it wouldn't scan in the machine anyway.

  I would be very grateful. The man smiled. And could you give me some

  coins?

  Roux rang up eight euro for the two hot chocolates and swiped the Visa for

  twenty euro. He was surprised that it was an American credit card; he would

  have sworn by his accent that the man was French. There was a delay and then

  the card went through, and he deducted the cost of the two drinks and handed

  over the change in one-and two-euro coins. Roux went back to the math

  textbook hidden under the counter. He d been wrong about the group. It wasn't

  the first time and wouldn't be the last. They were probably visitors just off

  one of the early-morning trains; they were nothing out of the ordinary.

  Well, maybe not all of them. Keeping his head down, he raised his eyes to

  look at the red-haired young woman. She was standing with her back to him,

  talking to the old man. And then she slowly and deliberately turned to look

  at him. She smiled, the merest curl of her lips, and Roux suddenly found his

  textbook very interesting.

  Flamel stood at the caf counter and looked at Scathach. I want you to stay

  here, he said softly, slipping from French into Latin. His eyes flickered to

  where the twins sat drinking their hot chocolate. Watch over them. I ll go

  find a phone.

  The Shadow nodded. Be careful. If anything happens and we get separated,

  let s meet back in Montmartre. Machiavelli will never expect us to double

  back. We ll wait outside one of the restaurants maybe La Maison Rose for five

  minutes at the top of every hour.

  Agreed. But if I m not back by noon, he continued very softly, I want you

  to take the twins and leave.

  I will not abandon you, Scathach said evenly.

  If I don't come back, it s because Machiavelli has me, the Alchemyst said

  seriously. Scathach, even you would not be able to rescue me from his army.

  I ve faced down armies before.

  Flamel reached out and laid his hand on the Warrior s shoulder. The twins

  are our priority now. They must be protected at all cost. Continue Sophie s

  training; find someone to Awaken Josh and train him. And rescue my dear

  Perenelle, if you can. And if I die, tell her my ghost will find her, he

  added. Then, before she could say anything else, he turned and strode out

  into the chilly predawn air.

  Hurry back , Scatty whispered, but Flamel had gone. If he was captured, she

  decided, no matter what he said, she was going to tear this city apart until

  she found him. Taking a deep breath, she looked over her shoulder and found

  the shaven-headed assistant staring at her. There was a spiderweb tattooed

  onto the side of his neck, and the entire length of both of his ears was

  pierced with at least a dozen little studs. She wondered how painful that had

  been. She d always wanted pierced ears, but her flesh simply healed too

  quickly, and she d no sooner had the piercing done than the hole closed up.

  Something to drink? Roux asked, smiling nervously, a metal ball visible in

  his tongue.

  Water, Scatty said.

  Sure. Perrier?
>
  Tap. No ice, she added, and turned away to join the twins at the table. She

  spun a chair around and straddled it, leaning her forearms across the top of

  the chair and resting her chin on her arms.

  Nicholas has gone to try and get in touch with my grandmother to see if she

  knows anyone here. I m not sure what we re going to do if he cannot get

  through.

  Why? Sophie asked.

  Scatty shook her head. We ve got to get off the streets. We were lucky to

  get away from Sacre -Coeur before the police threw up a cordon around it. No

  doubt they have found that stunned officer by now, so their search will have

  moved outward, and the patrols will have our descriptions. It s only a matter

  of time before we re spotted.

  What will happen then? Josh wondered aloud.

  Scathach s smile was terrifying. Then they ll see why I am called the

  Warrior.

  But what happens if we re caught? Josh persisted. He still found the idea

  of being hunted by the police nearly incomprehensible. It was almost easier

  to imagine being hunted by mythical creatures or immortal humans. What would

  happen to us?

  You would be turned over to Machiavelli. The Dark Elders would consider you

  pair quite a prize.

  What Sophie looked quickly at her brother. What would they do to us?

  You really don't want to know, Scathach said sincerely, but trust me when

  I tell you that it would not be pleasant.

  And what about you? Josh asked.

  I have no friends amongst the Dark Elders, Scathach said softly. I ve been

  their enemy for over two and a half thousand years. I would imagine they have

  a very special Shadowrealm prison prepared for me. Something cold and wet.

  They know I hate that. She smiled, the tips of her teeth pressing against

  her lips. But they haven t got us yet, she said lightly, and they ll not

  get us easily. She turned to squint at Sophie. You look terrible.

  So I've been told, Sophie said, wrapping both hands around the steaming mug

  of chocolate and bringing it to her lips. She breathed deeply. She could

  smell every subtlety in the rich aroma of cocoa and felt her stomach rumble,

  reminding her that it had been a long time since they had eaten. The hot

  chocolate tasted bitter on her tongue, eye-wateringly strong, and she

  remembered reading somewhere that European chocolate had a greater cocoa

  content than the American chocolate she had grown up with.