The Magician (The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel #2) (43 page)

“The girl’s powers have been Awakened”, Dee continued, his voice echoing in the chamber. “The boy’s have not. If we are to succeed, if we are to bring back the Elders, this boy’s powers must be Awakened. Mars Ultor, will you Awaken the boy?”

The god planted his tall broadsword on the ground, the point sinking easily into the bone floor, wrapped both hands around the hilt and leaned forward to look at Josh.

Show no fear and don’t panic. Josh straightened and stood tall, then stared directly into the narrow rectangular opening in the stone helm. For the space of a single heartbeat, he thought he caught a flash of brilliantly bright blue eyes in the shadows, before they turned red and glowing again. Josh’s aura faded to a dull glow and the two satyrs immediately crept forward, climbing onto the plinth to peer around the god at the boy. The hunger in their eyes was unmistakable now.

“Twins.”

It took Josh a moment to realize that Mars had spoken. The god’s voice was surprisingly soft and sounded incredibly weary. “Twins?” The question in his voice was unmistakable.

“Y-yes”, Josh stammered. “I have a twin sister, Sophie.”

“I had twin boys once a long time ago”, Mars said, his voice lost and distant. The red glow inside his helm faded and blue eyes blinked again. “Good boys, fine boys”, he added, and Josh was unsure whom he was speaking to. “Who is the elder?” he asked. “You or your sister?”

“Sophie”, Josh said, lips curling in a sudden smile at the thought of his sister. “But only by twenty-eight seconds.”

“And do you love your sister?” Mars asked.

Taken by surprise, Josh said, “Yes well, I mean, yes, of course I do. She’s my twin.”

Mars nodded. “Romulus, my younger boy, said that too. He swore to me that he loved his brother, Remus. And then he killed him.”

The bone chamber fell deathly silent.

Looking into the helmet, Josh saw Mars Ultor’s eyes turn blue and wet, and he felt his own eyes fill with tears in sympathy. Then the god’s tears hissed to steam as his eyes blazed red again. “I had Awakened my sons auras, gave them access to powers and abilities beyond those of the humani. All their senses and emotions were heightened including the emotions of hate, fear and love.” He paused, and then added, “They had been close so close until I Awakened their senses. That destroyed them.” There was another, longer pause. “Perhaps it would be better if I did not Awaken you. For your own sake and the sake of your sister.”

Josh blinked in surprise and looked over his shoulder at Dee and Machiavelli. The Italian’s face was impassive, but Dee looked as stunned as Josh felt. Was Mars refusing to Awaken him?

“Lord Mars”, the Magician began, “the boy must be Awakened.”

“It will be his choice”, Mars said mildly.

“I demand…”

The glow within the god’s helm turned incandescent. “
You
demand!”

“In my master’s name, of course”, Dee said quickly. “My master demands…”

“Your master can make no demands of me, Magician”, Mars whispered. “And if you speak again”, he added, “I will loose my companions on you.” Phobos and Deimos clambered over the god’s shoulders to peer at Dee. They were both drooling. “It is a terrible death.” He looked back at Josh. “This is your choice and yours alone. I can Awaken your powers. I can make you powerful. Dangerously powerful.” Red eyes blazed brightly, the centers burning yellow hot. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes”, Josh said without hesitation.

“There is a price, for everything has a price.”

“I’ll pay it”, Josh said immediately, though he had no idea what that payment might be.

Mars nodded his great head, stone cracking and grinding. “A good response, the correct response. Asking me about the price would have been a mistake.”

Phobos and Deimos cackled in what Josh assumed was a laugh, and he immediately knew that others had paid the price for trying to negotiate with the Sleeping God.

“There will come a time when I will remind you that you are in debt to me.” The god looked over Josh’s head. “Who will mentor the boy?”

“I will”, Dee and Machiavelli said simultaneously.

Josh turned to look at the two immortals, surprised by their response. Of the two, he thought he would prefer to be mentored by Machiavelli.

“Magician, he is yours”, Mars said after a moment’s consideration. “I can read your intent and your motives clearly. You intend to use the boy to bring back the Elders; I have no doubt of that. But you”, he added, his head swiveling to look at Machiavelli. “I cannot read your aura; I do not know what you want. Perhaps because you have not yet decided.”

Rocks snapped and creaked as the god stood. He was at least seven feet tall, his helmeted head almost brushing the ceiling. Kneel, he said to Josh, who folded to his knees. Mars tugged his huge sword free from the floor and spun it until it was directly in front of the boy’s face. Josh went cross eyed looking at the blade. It was so close that he could see where the edge was chipped and pitted and was able to make out the faintest trace of a spiraling pattern down the center of the sword.

“What are your clan name and your parents names?”

Josh’s mouth was so dry he could barely speak. The clan name? “Oh, the family name is Newman. My father is Richard and my mother is Sara.” He had a sudden memory of Hekate asking Sophie the same questions. It had been only a couple of days ago, and yet it felt like a lifetime.

The timbre of the god’s voice changed, becoming stronger, loud enough for Josh to feel the vibrations in his bones. “Josh, son of Richard and Sara of the Clan Newman, of the race humani, I will grant you an Awakening. You have acknowledged that this is no gift and there will be a price to pay. If you do not pay it, I will destroy you and everything you hold dear.”

“I’ll pay”, Josh said thickly, blood thundering in his head, adrenaline coursing through his body.

“I know you will.” The huge sword moved, first touching Josh’s right shoulder, then his left before moving back to his right. The faintest outline of his aura winked into existence around his body. Wisps of gold smoke started to curl off his blond hair, and the scent of citrus grew stronger. “Hence-forth you will see with acuity”.

Josh’s bright blue eyes turned into solid gold discs. Immediately, tears gathered and ran down his face. They were the color and texture of liquid gold.

“You will hear with clarity.”

Smoke coiled from the boy’s ears.

“You will taste with purity.”

Josh opened his mouth and coughed. A puff of saffron-colored mist appeared, and tiny amber sparks danced between his tongue and teeth.

“You will touch with sensitivity.”

The boy brought his hands up to his face. They were glowing so brightly that they were almost transparent. Sparks leapt and curled between each finger, and his badly chewed fingernails were polished mirrors.

“You will smell with intensity.”

Josh’s head was almost completely enveloped in golden smoke now. It trickled from his nostrils, making it look as if he were breathing fire. His aura had thickened, solidified around his shoulders and across his chest, becoming shiny and reflective.

The god’s sword moved again, tapping lightly against the boy’s shoulders. “Truly, yours is one of the most powerful auras I have ever encountered”, Mars said quietly. “There is something else I can give you a gift and this I give freely. You may find it of use in the days to come.” Stretching out his left hand, he rested it on top of the boy’s head. Instantly, Josh’s aura burst into incandescent light. Streamers and globes of yellow fire curled from his body and bounced around the room. Phobos and Deimos were caught by the blast of light and heat, and it sent them squealing and scrambling behind the stone plinth, but not before their pale skin had reddened and the tips of their snow white hair had darkened and crisped. The searing light drove Dee to his knees, gloved hands pressed against his eyes. He rolled over, burying his face in his hands as spheres of fire bounced off the floor and ceiling, spattering against the walls, leaving scorch marks on the polished bone.

Only Machiavelli had escaped the full force of the explosion of light. He’d turned away and ducked out of the room in the last instant before Mars had touched the boy. Curling up in a ball, he hid in the deep shadows outside the door while streamers of yellow light ricocheted off the walls and hissing balls of solid energy blazed out into the corridor. He blinked hard, trying to clear the streaked afterimages seared onto his retinas. Machiavelli had seen Awakenings before, but never anything this dramatic. What was Mars doing to the boy, what gift was he giving him?

Then, through his blurring vision, he saw a vague silvery shape materialize at the other end of the corridor.

And the scent of vanilla filled the catacombs.

P
erched on top of the water tower on Alcatraz, surrounded by huge Dire-Crows, the Morrigan sang softly to herself. It was a song first heard by the most primitive of ancient men, now imprinted deep into humankind’s DNA. It was slow and gentle, lost and plaintive, beautiful and utterly terrifying. It was the Song of the Morrigan: a cry designed to inspire fear and terror. And on battlefields across the world and down through time, it was often the last sound a human heard in this life.

The Morrigan drew her black feathered cloak about her and gazed out across the fog-locked bay toward the city. She could feel the heat of the mass of humani, could see the seething glow of almost a million auras within San Francisco itself. And every aura was wrapped around a humani, each one rich with fears and worries, filled with succulent, tasty emotions. She pressed her hands together and brought the tips of her fingers to her thin black lips. Her ancestors had fed off humankind, had drunk their memories, savored their emotions like fine wines. Soon oh, so very soon, she would be free to do it again.

But before that she had a banquet to enjoy.

Earlier, she’d received a call from Dee. Finally, he and his Elders had been forced to agree that it was now too dangerous to allow both Nicholas and Perenelle to survive; he had given her permission to slay the Sorceress.

The Morrigan had an eyrie high in the San Bernardino Mountains. She would carry Perenelle there and over the next few days drain every last one of the woman’s memories and emotions. The Sorceress had lived for almost seven hundred years; she had traveled across the globe and into Shadowrealms, had seen wonders and experienced terrors. And the woman had an extraordinary memory; she would have remembered everything, every emotion, every thought and fear. And the Morrigan would relish them all. When she was finished, the legendary Perenelle Flamel would be little more than a mindless babe. The Crow Goddess threw back her head and opened her mouth wide, her long incisors white and stark against her dark lips, her tongue tiny and black. Soon.

The Morrigan knew that the Sorceress was in the tunnels beneath the water tower. The only other entrance was through a tunnel that was accessible only at low tide. And although the tide would not turn for hours, the rocks and cliff face around the cave mouth were covered with razor-billed crows.

Then the Morrigan’s nostrils flared.

Over the salt and iodine smell of the sea, the metallic stink of rusted metal and rotting stone and the musty scent of countless birds, she suddenly smelled something else something that didn’t belong, not in this place, not in this age. Something ancient and bitter.

The wind shifted, and the fog curled with it. Beads of salty moisture suddenly glistened on a thread of silver hanging in the air before her. The Morrigan blinked her jet-black eyes. Another thread wavered in the air, and then another and another, crisscrossed in a series of circles. They looked like webs.

They
were
webs.

She was coming to her feet when a monstrous spider erupted from the shaft below her and landed squarely on the side of the water tower, its huge barbed feet biting into the metal. It scuttled toward the Crow Goddess.

The mass of birds ringing the water tower spiraled skyward, screaming raucously and were instantly trapped in the enormous web floating overhead. They fell back on top of their dark mistress, entangling her in a writhing mass of feathers and sticky web. The Morrigan slashed her way free with razor-tipped nails, gathered her cloak about her and was about to take to the air when the spider climbed over the top of the water tower and drove her back, pinning her down with a huge barbed foot.

Perenelle Flamel, astride the spider s back, a blazing spear in her hand, leaned forward and smiled at the Morrigan. “You were looking for me, I believe.”

S
ophie ran.

She was no longer afraid; she didn’t feel sick or weak anymore. She just had to get to her brother. Josh was directly ahead of her, in a room at the end of the tunnel. She could see the golden glow of his aura lighting up the darkness, smell the mouthwatering scent of oranges.

Pushing past Nicholas, Joan and Saint-Germain, ignoring their cries to stop, Sophie raced for the glowing arched doorway. She had always been a good runner and held track records for the hundred-meter in most of the schools she’d attended, but now she practically flew down the corridor. And with every step, her aura fueled by anger and determination grew around her, sparking, crackling and metallic. Her enhanced senses flared, her pupils shrinking to dots and then expanding to silver discs, and instantly the shadows vanished and she could see the gloomy catacomb in all its shocking detail. Her nostrils were assaulted with a variety of smells snake and sulfur, rot and mold but stronger than all the others was the orange scent of her brother’s aura.