06 The Enchantress Page 9

  Nicholas looked at Perenelle. “Do you remember when we were on the Isle of Man and Dee turned up with his trained ghouls? Remember how we got away?”

  Perenelle grinned. “I remember the look on the Magician’s face.” Her smile faded. “But, Nicholas, we were a lot younger then, and a lot—a whole lot—stronger.”

  “Okay, so we’ll burn up a little aura.” He shrugged. “We have nothing to lose.”

  Perenelle leaned in to quickly kiss her husband’s cheek. “True.”

  “How did you get off the island?” Niten asked.

  “We walked.”

  “On water?”

  Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel nodded.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “I understand there was a little … unpleasantness earlier,” Osiris said.

  “No,” Virginia said evenly. She was watching as the servants laid out a round gold and silver table in the back garden of the circular house. None of the servants were human. Both males and females had the bodies of humans, and their features were almost—though not quite—those of animals. The females appeared to have cat genes, while the males had either dog or pig. And no two were identical.

  A trio of cat-girls appeared. One was lightly furred, another had a long curling tail and the third had the speckled pattern of a leopard across her face and bare shoulders. All had whiskers. They laid out baskets of fruit on the table and scampered silently away on all fours.

  “Genetic manipulation?” Virginia asked.

  “Something like that,” Osiris said. “A combination of Earthlord, Archon and Great Elder expertise, fired by our auras. Isis and I are creating endless Shadowrealms. We need to populate them. And the humani are not suitable for every world. The average humani struggles to survive even in this world. So we tweak them a little, give them some advantages. The cat-women, for example, will do well in a jungle world, and we’ll try out the dogs and pigs as hunters and trackers. They are flexible enough to go into any number of environments.”

  “It is science or magic?” Virginia asked.

  “Who was it who said that any sufficiently advanced technology was indistinguishable from magic? Einstein? Newton?”

  “Clarke,” she said quietly.

  “The humani are essentially a vulnerable race. We are giving them some of the advantages nature forgot.”

  “Humans have spread all across the globe, in any number of environments, without your advantages,” Virginia said icily. “They adapt—always have, always will. What you are doing is wrong.”

  “We shall have to agree to disagree.”

  “I hate that phrase.”

  Osiris and Virginia Dare were sitting on either side of a round pool in a small enclosed courtyard. Overhead, a patterned silk awning protected them from the slanting sunshine. The air was bright with flowers and heavy with perfume. Virginia had grown up in the forest and later trained as a botanist and horticulturalist, yet she recognized few of the plants. Enormous water lilies covered the surface of the pool, and almost transparent thumbnail-sized frogs moved slowly across the leaves, following the sun. The frogs hissed like cats.

  Osiris had changed into a loose white linen shirt and white trousers that ended high above his ankles. His feet were bare, and the American immortal noted that his toenails were painted black.

  “What happened with the anpu?” Osiris asked.

  Virginia’s slate-gray eyes blinked gold as she looked away from the table. “Oh, that,” she said lightly. “They got in my way.”

  “They would have stepped out of your way if you had identified yourselves. It was a mistake.” Osiris smiled, but it was nothing more than a movement of his lips, and there was no genuine emotion in it.

  “Their mistake was trying to stop me.”

  “Do you usually deal so harshly with those who get in your way?”

  “Yes.” Her smile matched the Elder’s. “I resent anyone—or anything—who attempts to curtail my liberty.”

  “I will remember that.”

  “Do. I grew up with nothing. No clothes, no food, no money, no possessions. All I had was my liberty. I learned to value it.”

  Osiris steepled his hands before his face. “You are an interesting person, Virginia Dare.”

  “Not really. I’m actually very simple, and my rule is equally simple: stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours.”

  “I will remember that also.”

  Sophie’s laugher rang out and they both turned toward the sound. Through a wall of glass, they caught a glimpse of Sophie and Josh exploring the vast circular house.

  “First time I’ve heard her laugh,” the immortal remarked, then turned back to the Elder, eyeing him carefully. “Their arrival here was not a surprise. I get the impression that we are nearing the end of a plan that was laid down a long time ago.”

  Osiris sat back in a chair that had been carved from a block of solid gold and steepled his hands before his face again. “You are very astute.”

  “Underestimate me at your peril.” She smiled. “My Elder master did—and you know what happened to him.”

  “I wonder if you would be so brave without your flute,” Osiris commented.

  Virginia reached under her shirt and produced the simple wooden flute. She shook it out of its cloth bag and sunlight shivered across the spiral designs etched into the wood. Osiris stiffened, and she noted how his hand dropped to the sides of the chair. She guessed there was a weapon concealed in one of the armrests—a knife or throwing star, probably. Suddenly she tossed the flute at the Elder.

  Osiris snatched the instrument out of the air—and then hissed as the flesh of his palm sizzled and smoked. He flung the flute toward the pool, but Virginia caught it, spun it once to make it sing and tucked it into its bag and back beneath her clothes in one smooth movement.

  Osiris dropped to his knees and pushed his hand into the water. “You could have warned me,” he said.

  “If I’d told you that you wouldn’t be able to hold it, would you have believed me?”

  “Probably not,” he admitted.

  “A demonstration is worth a thousand words.”

  “I’ve come across such artifacts before,” Osiris told her. “Some are Earthlord or Archon. I’ve never been able to work out why the Elders cannot touch them. Do you know?”

  “Yes, I do,” she said simply.

  “But you’re not going to tell me?”

  “No, I’m not.”

  Osiris returned to the golden chair and sat down, his right hand dripping water on the white flagstones. “Miss Dare, what a revelation you are,” he murmured. “I suddenly realize that for centuries I have been dealing with the wrong humani agent. Dee was a fool—a useful fool, admittedly. But we should have been dealing with you.”

  Virginia Dare shook her head. “You were always able to control the doctor. You would not have been able to control me.”

  Osiris nodded. “Maybe so. But we would have dealt with you differently.”

  “Honestly, you mean?”

  “We were always honest with him,” the Elder said sincerely. “He was rarely as honest with us; you must know that.”

  “Why do you need the twins?”

  Osiris brought his burnt hand to his lips and licked at the wound. Brilliant blue eyes regarded her evenly. Then he suddenly grinned. “I could tell you, but then I would have to kill you,” he said.

  “If you don’t tell me, I might kill you.” Virginia matched his smile once again.

  “You could try.”

  “I could. But you really don’t want me to,” Virginia said.

  Sophie’s and Josh’s voices suddenly echoed through the house, and Osiris and Virginia turned toward the sound. The voices grew louder as the twins approached.

  “Here’s what I think,” Virginia said quietly. “You need their auras. You need the power of Gold and Silver for something. Something spectacular. Am I right?”

  “You are not wrong,” Osiris conceded.

  “There�
��s only one thing troubling me,” she said.

  Osiris’s face remained expressionless as he continued to lick his hand.

  “Are you really their parents?”

  “They are our children,” he said after considering his answer. “We have spent a lifetime preparing them for this.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Quetzalcoatl detested the damp. He was wearing a heavy wool three-piece suit he’d bought in London a century ago, and had wrapped himself in a three-quarter-length black leather coat with the high collar turned up. A patterned thermal scarf encircled his neck and covered the lower part of his mouth, and he wore a black fedora with a spray of feathers from his own tail in the band. His hands were sheathed in fur-lined gloves. Yet he was still freezing. He hated this Shadowrealm.

  The Feathered Serpent turned as an enormous black Cadillac with darkened windows pulled into the deserted parking lot at Vista Point Overlook. Its gleaming bodywork was speckled with millions of water droplets.

  Quetzalcoatl half raised his hand, then, realizing that he was probably invisible in the gloom and fog, self-consciously dropped it again. He was beginning to regret his earlier impulsive action. He had survived this long because he was a loner; he rarely mixed with his own kind. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d encountered someone from his very distant past. It was always easier to deal with the human servants; he could control them.

  A smartly suited driver wearing a peaked cap climbed out of the car. Quetzalcoatl thought there was something wrong with the way he—though it could just as easily have been a she—walked, and when the driver turned his head, the Elder thought he caught the glimpse of bulging solid black eyes. The driver removed his hat, revealing a bald head and overlong bat ears, before opening the rear door.

  A figure stepped out.

  She was tall and elegant, wrapped in a full-length fur coat made from the skins of animals that had not walked the earth in eons. And she had the head of a cat. This was Bastet.

  Quetzalcoatl watched the Elder stride across the parking lot toward him and felt an odd emotion, something he had not experienced in millennia: fear. His tail, which had been tucked into the back of his belt, slipped free, slithered out from beneath his coat and tapped nervously against the ground. Perhaps contacting the cat-headed goddess had been a mistake.

  “It has been a long time, Quetzalcoatl,” she said, speaking in the ancient language of Danu Talis.

  The Feathered Serpent lifted his fedora and bowed respectfully. “Too long.”

  Bastet tilted her feline head to one side, huge yellow slit-pupiled eyes regarding him. It was impossible to read her expression, but Quetzalcoatl got the impression she was amused.

  “Thank you for coming,” he said. “I was unsure that you would….”

  “Oh, we Elders have to stick together,” Bastet said in her hissing lisp. “Especially now, in these interesting times.” Boot heels clicked on the pavement as she stepped forward, towering over the shorter Elder. “I was delighted to get your call. Surprised, I’ll admit. But delighted.”

  Quetzalcoatl wondered if the cat-headed Elder was being sarcastic; her coolness made it hard to tell. “I’ve been meaning to get in touch,” he murmured. “But you know how time slips away.”

  “We should get together more often: we’re practically neighbors,” she purred.

  He knew then that she was being sarcastic. She hated him for what had happened on Danu Talis ten thousand years ago.

  “So, you need my help?”

  “Yes, I thought you might be able to assist me,” he admitted. “We are so close now, victory is almost at hand. I do not want to leave anything to chance.”

  “Very wise.” Bastet swept out her right hand, claws shredding the fog. “Is this yours? It is a nice touch.”

  “Thank you. I thought you would approve.”

  “The humani have always feared the nights. Especially foggy nights. Deep in their genetic memories, they must remember what it was like to be hunted.” The goddess showed her teeth in a feral grin.

  Quetzalcoatl lifted his hand and pointed to the right. Through the billowing fog, the merest outline of metal was barely visible. He blinked and his pupils changed shape, and he suddenly saw the world in shades of red and black. “The Golden Gate Bridge is here.” He pointed to the left. “I’m not sure if you can see it, but over there is Alcatraz….”

  “I can see it. Do you forget what I am, what I became?” she hissed bitterly.

  “The Change altered all of us,” Quetzalcoatl said carefully.

  “Some more than others.”

  “Indeed.” The Feathered Serpent continued. “Beyond Alcatraz is Treasure Island, and just behind the island is the Bay Bridge.”

  Bastet turned up the collar of her fur coat. “I did not come here for a geography lesson.”

  “This fog covers everything within a hundred-mile radius. Nothing is moving on land or sea. I have ensured that there have been countless accidents. The authorities are stretched to the limit. The Golden Gate and Bay Bridges are already closed.” He consulted an overlarge watch on his wrist. “Soon a fuel tanker will cross the central divide on Dumbarton Bridge and burst into flames.”

  “How do you know?” Bastet asked.

  “I don’t believe in leaving anything to chance.” He checked his watch again. “In five minutes, there will be a series of accidents at the tollgates on the San Mateo Bridge, which will completely seal the bridges. And in ten minutes, the Pacific Gas and Electric Company, which supplies most of the power to this side of the country, is going to suffer a devastating series of computer failures.” Quetzalcoatl grinned, showing his own savage teeth. “Everything will go dark.”

  “Can you do that?”

  “Indeed. I experimented a couple of years ago on the East Coast. The great Northeast blackout was a success.”

  “This is all very impressive. So, what do you want me for?” Bastet asked.

  “You know we have creatures on Alcatraz?”

  “I know that.”

  “And you know that Dee has betrayed us.”

  “I know he was declared utlaga.”

  “He was supposed to release the beasts from the island, but he didn’t, and now he’s vanished.”

  “Don’t you have people you can use?” Bastet hissed. “I have no servants left this far north.”

  “I put two of my best people on the job. Billy the Kid and Black Hawk.” He paused and coughed. “They were accompanied by the Italian immortal, Machiavelli.”

  Bastet hissed. “There are certain humani we should have butchered and eaten a long time ago. The Flamels, for example, and Dee, and certainly Machiavelli. You know I love Italian food.”

  Quetzalcoatl sighed. “I agree with you. Machiavelli and Billy went to the island to loose the monsters into the city.”

  “And?” Bastet turned toward San Francisco and tilted her head to one side, listening. “I’m not hearing any screams.”

  “They failed,” Quetzalcoatl said quietly. “I don’t know how. I did see the Lotan swim in toward the Embarcadero, but it was slain by the Flamels. I’ve lost touch with Billy and Machiavelli, and Black Hawk has simply disappeared. I can only assume that they are all dead.” He ground his teeth in frustration. “We are so close, mistress. So very close. We have an island full of monsters less than a mile away from the city streets, and when we do manage to get one almost ashore, we are defeated by a couple of immortals.”

  “How many immortals?”

  “A handful. Flamel, his dangerous wife, the Japanese warrior and, unfortunately, our own Prometheus.”

  Bastet wrapped her arms around her body and shivered. “I thought he never left his Shadowrealm.”

  “It is no more. Faded to shadows and dust.”

  “Curious. And what of the supposed twins of legend? The Flamels and Dee were convinced they had them. Again.”

  Quetzalcoatl’s teeth flashed in a smile. “They have vanished from the city. I cannot sense th
em anywhere on the American continent.”

  “That is some consolation, at least.”

  “You know the Flamels must have sent for help. The longer we delay, the more time we allow for reinforcements to arrive.”

  “We have our kind coming too, haven’t we?”

  “Some. Even now, the monsters and the monstrous are gathering. But don’t you know that every immortal humani hero, every god of myth and legend loyal to the Flamels, or simply opposed to us, is heading this way?”

  “Then let us not delay. We must get the monsters ashore and get the party under way.”

  “The original plan was for Machiavelli and Billy to awaken the creatures and release them from their cells. Black Hawk was supposed to sail a modified tourist boat into the jetty, load up and bring the creatures back into the city. Then he would go back for more.”

  “But now this Black Hawk has vanished.”

  “Eaten by the Nereids, I fear.”

  “But you have a backup plan?”

  “Always.”

  “I thought you might.”

  “Even now, there is a modified tourist boat docked off the island. The captain is gathering the biggest, ugliest, hungriest, most terrifying monsters he can find. He will take them ashore and release them into the streets. Then he will go back for a second batch.”

  “And you can trust this captain?”

  “He is my brother.”

  “I never knew you had a brother.”

  “He left Danu Talis long before the fall. The Change was cruel to him. But when I needed someone to trust, I knew I could count on him. He was happy—even eager—to help me.” His teeth flashed in a nasty smile. “After all, if you can’t depend on your family, then who can you trust?”

  “Then why do you need me?” Bastet asked, ignoring the jibe. Her son Aten had betrayed her. “I am hearing a ‘but …,’ ” she prodded.

  “The Flamels and company will do all in their power to thwart us.”

  “So we need to eliminate the Flamels, Prometheus and Niten?”

  “Yes, and we only have a brief period of time in which to defeat them before their reinforcements arrive.”