Europe for more than four hundred years. I need your help.
The man on the other end of the line didn't identify himself, nor did he need
to; Machiavelli knew it was the immortal magician and necromancer Dr. John
Dee, one of the most powerful and dangerous men in the world.
Niccol Machiavelli hurried out of the small hotel into the broad cobbled
square of the Place du Tertre and stopped to breathe in the chill night air.
What can I do for you? he asked cautiously. He detested Dee and knew the
feeling was mutual, but they both served the Dark Elders, and that meant they
had been forced to work together through the centuries. Machiavelli was also
slightly envious that Dee was younger than he and looked it. Machiavelli had
been born in Florence in 1469, which made him fifty-eight years older than
the English Magician.
Flamel is back in Paris.
Machiavelli straightened. When?
Just now. He got there through a leygate. I ve no idea where it comes out.
He s got Scathach with him.
Machiavelli s face twisted into an ugly grimace. The last time he d
encountered the Warrior, she d pushed him through a door. It had been closed
at the time, and he d spent nearly a month picking splinters from his chest
and shoulders. He hadn't been able to sit down for a week.
There are two humani children with him. Americans, Dee said, voice echoing
and fading on the transatlantic line. Twins, he added.
Say again? Machiavelli asked.
Twins, Dee snapped, with pure gold and silver auras. You know what that
means, he said.
Yes, Machiavelli muttered. It meant trouble.
The girl s powers were Awakened by Hekate before the goddess and her
Shadowrealm were destroyed. I believe the Witch of Endor has instructed the
girl in the Magic of Air.
What do you want me to do? Machiavelli asked carefully, although he already
had a very good idea.
Find them, Dee snapped. Capture them. I m on my way over there, but it s
going to take me fourteen or fifteen hours to get to Paris.
What happened to the leygate? Machiavelli wondered aloud.
Destroyed by the Witch of Endor, Dee said bitterly, and she nearly killed
me, too. I was lucky to escape with a few cuts and scratches, he added, and
then ended the call without saying good-bye.
Niccol Machiavelli closed his phone carefully and tapped it against his
bottom lip. Somehow he doubted that Dee had been lucky if the Witch of Endor
had wanted him dead, then even the legendary Dr. Dee would not have escaped.
Machiavelli turned and walked across the square to where his driver was
patiently waiting with the car. If Flamel, Scathach and the AmeriCan'twins
had come to Paris via a leygate, then there were only a few places in the
city where they could have landed. It should be relatively easy to find and
capture them.
If he could do it tonight, then he would have fifteen hours to work on his
captives before Dee arrived.
And in that time they would tell him everything they knew. Half a millennium
on this earth had taught Niccol Machiavelli how to be very persuasive
indeed.
Where exactly are we? Josh Newman demanded, looking around, trying to make
sense of what had just happened. One second he d been in the Witch of Endor s
shop in Ojai and the next Sophie had pulled him through a mirror. There had
been a chill of disorientation and he d squeezed his eyes shut. When he d
opened them again, he d found he was standing in what looked like a tiny
storage room. Pots of paints, stacked ladders, broken pieces of pottery and
bundled paint-spattered cloths were piled around a large, rather
ordinary-looking, grimy mirror fixed to the stone wall. A single low-wattage
bulb shed a dim yellow light over the room.
We re in Paris, Nicholas Flamel'said delightedly. The city of my birth.
How? Josh asked. He looked at his twin sister, but she had pressed her head
to the room s only door and was listening intently. She waved him away. He
looked at Scathach, but she just shook her head, both hands pressed to her
mouth. She looked as if she was about to throw up. How did we get here? he
said to Flamel.
This earth is crisscrossed with invisible lines of power sometimes called
ley lines or cursus, Flamel explained. Where two or more lines intersect, a
gateway exists. Gates are incredibly rare now, but in ancient times the Elder
Race used them to travel from one side of the world to the other in an
instant just as we did. The Witch opened the leygate in Ojai and we ended up
here, in Paris.
I hate them, Scatty mumbled. Even in the gloomy light, she looked green.
You ever been seasick? she asked.
Josh shook his head. Never.
Sophie lifted her head from the door. Josh gets seasick in a swimming pool.
She grinned, then pressed the side of her face back against the door
Seasick. That'sexactly what it feels like. Only worse.
Sophie lifted her head to look at the Alchemyst. Do you have any idea where
we are in Paris?
Someplace old, Flamel'said, joining her at the door.
Sophie shook her head and stepped back. I m not so sure, she said. With her
Awakened powers and the Witch of Endor s knowledge, she was struggling to
make sense of the countless emotions and impressions surging within her. The
building they were in didn't feel old, but if she listened carefully enough,
she could actually hear the murmurs of countless ghosts. She touched the wall
with the palm of her hand and was immediately able to distinguish gossamer
threads of voices, whispered songs, distant organ music. She lifted her hand
and the sounds in her head faded. It s a church, she said, then frowned.
But it s a new church modern, late nineteenth century, early twentieth. But
it s built on a much, much older site.
Flamel paused at the wooden door and looked over his shoulder. In the dim
overhead light, his features were suddenly sharp and angular, disturbingly
skull-like, his eyes completely in shadow. There are many churches in
Paris, he said. Though there is only one, I believe, that matches that
description, he added, reaching for the door handle.
Hang on a second, Josh said quickly. don't you think there could be some
sort of alarm?
Not at all, Nicholas Flamel'said confidently. Who would put an alarm in a
church? He pulled the door open.
Immediately an alarm began to warble, the sound echoing off the flagstones
and stone walls. Red security lights began to strobe.
Let s get out of here! Flamel'shouted over the shrieking alarm.
Sophie and Josh followed close behind. Scatty took up the rear, moving slowly
and grumbling with every step.
The door opened onto a narrow corridor that led to a second door. Without
pausing, Flamel pushed through the second door and immediately another alarm
began to shriek. He turned left into a huge open space that smelled of old
incense and wax. Banks of lit candles shed a golden yellow light over walls
and floor, and these, combined with the security lights, revealed a pair of
enormous doors with the word EXIT above them. Flamel raced
toward it.
don't touch , Josh started to say, but Nicholas Flamel grabbed the door
handles and pulled hard.
A third alarm went off and a red light above the door began to wink on and
off.
I don't understand why is it not open? Flamel asked. This church is always
open. He turned and looked around. Where is everyone? What time is it? he
asked.
How long does it take to travel from one place to another through the
leygate? Sophie asked.
It s instantaneous.
Sophie looked at her watch and did a quick calculation. Paris is nine hours
ahead of Ojai? she asked.
Flamel nodded.
It s now about four a.m.; That'swhy the church is closed.
The police will be on their way, Scatty said glumly. She reached for her
nunchaku. I hate fighting when I m not feeling well, she muttered.
What do we do now? Josh demanded.
I could try and blast the doors apart with my wind magic, Sophie suggested.
I forbid it, Flamel'shouted, his face shadowed and painted in shades of
crimson by the light. He turned and pointed across rows of wooden pews to an
ornate altar picked out in a tracery of white marble. Candlelight hinted at a
mosaic in glittering blues and golds in the dome over the altar. This is a
national monument; I'll not let you destroy it.
Where are we? the twins asked together, looking around the building. Now
that their eyes had adjusted to the gloom, they could make out the outlines
of small side altars, statues in nooks and banks of candles. They could
distinguish the columns soaring high into the shadow overhead. The building
was huge.
This is the basilica of Sacr -Coeur.
Sitting in the back of his limousine, Niccol Machiavelli tapped coordinates
into his laptop and watched a high-resolution map of Paris wink into
existence on the screen. Paris was an incredibly ancient city. Its first
settlement went back more than two thousand years, though there had been
humans living on the island in the Seine for generations before that. And
like many of the earth s oldest cities, it had been sited where groups of
leylines met.
Machiavelli hit a keystroke, which laid down a pattern of leylines over the
map of the city. He knew he needed a line that connected with the United
States. After eliminating all the lines that didn't run east to west, he
finally managed to reduce the number of possibilities to six. With a
perfectly manicured fingernail, he traced two lines that directly linked the
west coast of America to Paris. One ended at the great cathedral of Notre
Dame, the other in the more modern but equally famous basilica of the
Sacre -Coeur in Montmartre.
But which line had Flamel used?
Suddenly the Parisian night was broken by a series of howling alarms.
Machiavelli hit the control for the electric window and the tinted glass
whispered down. Cool night air swirled into the car. In the distance, visible
over the rooftops on the opposite side of the Place du Tertre, the lights
around Sacre -Coeur painted the imposing domed building in stark white light.
Red alarm lights pulsed around the building That one.
Machiavelli s smile was terrifying. He called up a program on the laptop and
waited while the hard drive spun. Enter Password. His fingers flew over the
keyboard as he typed: Discorsi sopra la prima deca di Tito Livio. No one was
going to break that password. It wasn't one of his better-known books.
A rather ordinary-looking text document appeared, written in a combination of
Latin, Greek and Italian. At one time, magicians had had to keep their spells
and incantations in handwritten books called grimoires. Machiavelli had
always used the latest technology. These days, he preferred to keep his on
his hard drive.
Now he just needed a little something to keep Flamel and his friends busy .
I hear sirens, Josh said, his face pressed against the wooden door.
There are twelve police cars headed this way, Sophie said, her head tilted
to one side, eyes closed as she listened intently. Her brother was suddenly
reminded of the extent of his sister s Awakened powers. All of her senses
were enhanced; she could see and hear beyond the range of ordinary humans.
Ordinary humans like him.
We cannot be captured by the police, Flamel'said desperately. We have no
passports, no money and no alibi. we've got to get out of here!
How? the twins asked simultaneously.
Flamel'shook his head. There has to be another entrance , he began, and
then stopped, nostrils flaring.
Josh watched both Sophie and Scatty react to something he could not smell.
What what is it? he demanded, and then he suddenly caught the faintest
whiff of something musky and rank. It was the sort of smell he associated
with a zoo.
Trouble, Scathach said grimly, pushing away her nunchaku and drawing her
swords. Big trouble.
Text copyright 2007 by Michael Scott
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Document creation date: 13.6.2012
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Document authors :
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Nicholas Flamel 1 - The Alchemyst sotinf-1 Page 32
