The Magician (The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel #2) (38 page)

The petite Frenchwoman walked past the blazing remains of the police car and crouched on the ground, expertly reading the traces and signs on the damp stones. She heard Nicholas and Sophie climb out of the battered Citroen and walk down the alley, stepping around puddles of oil and dirty water. Nicholas was carrying Clarent. Joan distinctly heard it buzz as he approached the burning car, and she wondered if it was still connected to the boy.

“They ran from the car and stopped here”, she said, without looking up, as they stopped beside her. “Dee and Machiavelli were facing Josh. He stood over there.” She pointed. “They ran through the water back there; you can clearly see the outlines of their shoes on the ground.”

Sophie and Flamel leaned over and looked at the ground. They nodded, though she knew they could see nothing.

“Now, this is interesting, she continued. “At one stage Josh’s footsteps are pointing down the alley, and he’s on the balls of his feet, almost as if he was thinking about running. But look here.” She pointed to traces of heel prints on the ground that only she could see. “The three of them walked off together, Dee and Josh first, Machiavelli following behind.”

“Can you track them?” Flamel demanded.

Joan shrugged. “To the end of the alley, maybe, but beyond that” She shrugged again and straightened up, dusting off her hands. “Impossible; there will be too many other prints.”

“What are we going to do?” Nicholas whispered. “How are we going to find the boy?”

Joan’s eyes drifted from Flamel’s face to Sophie. “We can’t but Sophie can.”

“How?” he asked.

Joan moved her hand in a horizontal line in front of her. It left the faintest tracery of light in the air, and the foul alley briefly smelled of lavender. “She’s his twin: she’ll be able to follow his aura.”

Nicholas Flamel caught both of Sophie’s shoulders, forcing the girl to look into his eyes. “Sophie!” he snapped. “Sophie, look at me.”

Sophie raised red-rimmed eyes to look at the Alchemyst. She was completely numb. Scatty was gone, and now Josh had vanished, kidnapped by Dee and Machiavelli. Everything was falling apart.

“Sophie”, Nicholas said very quietly, his pale eyes catching and holding hers. “I need you to be strong now.”

“What’s the point?” she asked. “They’re gone.”

“They’re not gone”, he said confidently.

“But Scatty…” The girl hiccupped.

“…is one of the most dangerous women in the world”, he finished. “She’s survived for over two thousand years and fought creatures infinitely more dangerous than Dagon.”

Sophie wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince himself or her. “I saw that thing drag her into the river, and we waited for at least ten minutes. She didn’t come back up. She
must
have drowned.” Her voice caught and she could feel the tears pricking at the back of her eyes again. Her throat felt as if it were on fire.

“I’ve seen her survive worse, much worse.” Nicholas attempted a wan smile. “I think Dagon is in for a surprise! Scatty’s like a cat: she hates getting wet. The Seine runs very fast; they were probably swept downriver. She’ll contact us.”

“But how? She’ll have no idea where we are.” Sophie really hated the way adults lied. They were just so transparent.

“Sophie”, Nicholas said seriously. “If Scathach is alive, she will find us. Trust me.”

And in that moment, Sophie realized that she did not trust the Alchemyst.

Joan put her arm on Sophie’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “Nicholas is right. Scatty is” She smiled, and her entire face lit up. “She is extraordinary. Her aunt once abandoned her in one of the Underworld Shadowrealms: it took her centuries to find her way out. But she did it.”

Sophie nodded slowly. She knew that what they were saying was true the Witch of Endor knew more about Scathach than either the Alchemyst or Joan but she could also tell that they were very worried.

“Now, Sophie”, Nicholas resumed. “I need you to find your brother.”

“How?”

“I’m hearing sirens”, Joan said urgently, looking back down the alley. “Lots of sirens.”

Flamel ignored her. He stared deep into Sophie’s bright blue eyes. “You can find him”, he insisted. “You are his twin; it is a connection that goes even deeper than blood. You’ve always known when he was in trouble, haven’t you?”

Sophie nodded.

“Nicholas”, Joan prodded, “we are running out of time.”

“You’ve always felt his pain, known when he was unhappy or upset?”

Sophie nodded again.

“You are connected to him, you can find him.” The Alchemyst turned the girl around so that she was facing down the alleyway. “Josh was standing here”, he said, pointing. “Dee and Machiavelli were standing about here.”

Sophie was confused and getting irritated. “But they’re gone now. They took him away.”

“I don’t think they forced him to go anywhere, I think he went with them of his own free will”, Nicholas said very softly.

The words hit Sophie like a blow. Josh wouldn’t leave her, would he? “But why?”

Flamel shrugged slightly. “Who knows? Dee has always been very persuasive, and Machiavelli is a master manipulator. But we can find them, I’m sure of it. Your senses have been Awakened, Sophie. Look again; imagine Josh standing in front of you,
see
him”.

Sophie took a deep breath and closed her eyes, then opened them again. She could see nothing out of the ordinary; she was standing in a dirty trash-strewn alley, the walls covered with curling ornate graffiti, with the smoke of the burning car whirling around her.

“His aura is gold”, Flamel continued. “Dee’s is yellow, Machiavelli’s gray or dirty white”.

Sophie started to shake her head. “I can’t see anything”, she began.

“Then let me help you.” Nicholas put his hand on her shoulder and suddenly the stink of the burning car was replaced with the fresh sharp smell of mint. Instantly, her aura flared around her body, crackling and spitting like a firework, the pure silver now tinged with the emerald green of Flamel’s aura.

And then she
saw
something.

Directly in front of her she could make out the merest hint of Josh’s outline. It was ghostly and insubstantial, composed of little more than threads and sparkling dust motes of gold, and when he moved he trailed streaked lines of gossamer color in the air behind him. Now that she knew what she was looking for, she could also make out the traces of Dee’s and Machiavelli’s outlines in the air.

She blinked slowly, afraid that the images would vanish, but they remained hanging in the air before her, and if anything, the colors grew even more intense. Josh’s aura was the brightest of all. She reached out blindly, her fingers touching the golden edge of her brother’s arm. The smoky outline twisted away as if blown by a breeze.

“I see them”, she said in awe, her voice barely above a whisper. She’d never imagined she’d be able to do anything like this. “I can see their outlines.”

“Where did they go?” Nicholas asked.

Sophie followed the colored streaks in the air; they led to the end of the alley. “This way”, she said, and set off down the alleyway toward the street, with Nicholas close on her heels.

Joan of Arc took one last lingering look at her battered car and then followed.

“What are you thinking?” Flamel asked.

“I’m thinking that when this is all over, I’m going to return the car to its former pristine condition. And then never take it out of the garage again.”

“Something’s wrong”, Flamel said as they wove their way through the streets.

Sophie was concentrating fiercely on following her twin and ignored him.

“I’ve just been thinking the same thing”, Joan said. “The city is too quiet.”

“Exactly.” Flamel looked around. Where were the Parisians on their way to work and the tourists determined to get to see the sights before the city grew stifling hot and crowded? The few people on the street hurried past, talking excitedly together. The air was filled with sirens, and there were police everywhere. And then Nicholas realized that Nidhogg’s rampage through the city had probably hit the news and people were being warned to stay off the streets. He wondered what excuse the authorities would make to explain the chaos.

Sophie pushed her way blindly down the street, following the gossamer threads that Josh’s, Dee’s and Machiavelli’s auras had left in the air behind them. She kept bumping into people and apologizing, but she never took her eyes off the sparkles of light. And then she noticed that as the sun rose higher in the heavens, it was becoming harder and harder to make out the pinpoints of colored light. She realized she was running out of time.

Joan of Arc caught up with the Alchemyst. “Can she really see the after images left by their auras?” she asked in archaic French.

“She can”, Nicholas replied in the same language. “The girl is extraordinarily powerful: she has no idea of the extent of her powers.”

“Have you any clue where we’re going?” Joan asked, looking around. She thought they were somewhere in the vicinity of the Palais de Tokyo, but she’d been concentrating on the marks on the road left by the police car and hadn’t been paying too much attention to their whereabouts.

“None”, Nicholas said, frowning. “I’m just wondering why we seem to be heading into the back streets. I would have thought that Machiavelli would want to take the boy into custody.”

“Nicholas, they want the boy for themselves, or rather, the Elders do. What does the prophecy say? The two that are one, the one that is all. One to save the world, one to destroy it. The boy is a prize.” Without moving her head, her eyes flickered toward Sophie. “And the girl, too.”

“I know that.”

Joan rested her hand lightly on the Alchemyst’s arm. “You know that we must never allow both of them to fall into Dee’s hands.”

Flamel’s face hardened into a mask. “I know that, too.”

“What will you do?”

“Whatever is necessary”, he said grimly.

Joan pulled out a black cell phone. “I’m calling Francis; I’ll let him know we’re OK.” She looked around for a landmark. “Maybe he’ll know where we are.”

Sophie turned into a narrow alleyway, barely wide enough for two people to pass side by side. In the gloom, she could see the threads and speckled light more clearly now. She even caught ghostly flashes of her brother’s outline. She felt her spirits lift; maybe they were going to catch up with him.

Then, abruptly, the auras vanished.

She stopped, confused and frightened. What had happened? Looking back down the alley, she could see the traces of their auras in the air, gold and yellow Josh and Dee, side by side Machiavelli’s gray following along behind. They reached the center of the alleyway and stopped, and she could distinctly see the outline of her brother’s body picked out in gold standing almost directly in front of her. Squinting, concentrating hard, she attempted to bring his aura into focus.

He was looking down, mouth open.

Sophie stepped back. Directly under her feet was a large manhole cover, with the letters
IDC
pressed into the metal. Tiny speckles of the three auras were streaked across the cover, outlining each letter in a different color.

“Sophie?” Nicholas began.

She felt a rush of excitement: relief that she hadn’t lost him. “They’ve gone down”, she said.

“Down?” he asked, turning a sickly pale color. His voice dropped to little more than a whisper. “Are you sure?”

“Positive”, she said, alarmed at the expression on his face. “Why, what’s wrong? What’s down there? Sewers?”

Sewers and worse.” The Alchemyst suddenly looked very old and tired. “Below us are the legendary Catacombs of Paris”, he whispered.

Joan crouched down and pointed to where the mud around the edge of the manhole cover was disturbed. “This was opened very recently.” She looked up, her expression grim. “You’re right; they’ve taken him down into the Empire of the Dead.”

“O
h, stop that!” Perenelle bashed the spider Elder on the top of the head with the flat side of the spear in her hand. The ancient symbol of power blazed white-hot and the spider darted back into the cell, the top of its skull sizzling, gray smoke curling upward.

“That hurt!” Areop-Enap snapped, more irritated than wounded. “You’re always hurting me. You nearly killed me the last time I saw you.”

“And let me remind you that the last time we met, your followers attempted to sacrifice me to activate an extinct volcano. Naturally, I was a little upset.”

“You brought down an entire mountain on top of me”, Areop-Enap said in a peculiar lisp caused by its overlong fangs. “You could have killed me.”

“It was only a small mountain”, Perenelle reminded the creature. She thought Areop-Enap was female but couldn’t be entirely sure. “You’ve survived worse.”

All of Areop-Enap s eyes were on the spear in Perenelle’s hand. “Can you at least tell me where I am?”

“On Alcatraz. Or rather, below Alcatraz, an island in the
San Francisco
Bay
on the West Coast of the Americas.”