“You’ve been with them-what?-a week. I daresay you’ve discovered some unpleasant things about them yourself.”
Josh nodded again.
“And the question is, of course: what else have they lied to you about?”
“We learned about the other twins,” Josh admitted. He was reminded again of the great difference between Dee and Flamel. The Alchemyst always seemed to be talking down to him; the Magician spoke to him as an equal.
“Did they tell you how many?”
Josh shook his head. “I got the impression that there had been a dozen, something like that.”
Dee shook his head. “Hundreds,” he said. “Well, hundreds that we know of. When they could not find twins, they went hunting individuals with gold and silver auras-and when they could not find gold, they took any shades they could find: bronze, orange, even reds, and when there was no silver to be found, they used gray, alabaster, even white. Some children went willingly with them, others they bought, some they even kidnapped.”
“What happened to them?” Josh asked in a horrified whisper. “Flamel said some survived.”
“Flamel lies.”
“Tell me what happened to them!” Josh demanded this time, his voice rising to a shout.
Dee turned away, shaking his head. “It is too horrible to even think about. Did you ask the Alchemyst?”
“He didn’t give us a real answer.”
“Well, that tells you all you need to know,” Dee said. “Josh, let me say this to you again: I am not your enemy. I have always dealt fairly and truthfully with you. And, you’ll admit, I have always answered your questions. Can you say that about the Alchemyst and his wife?”
Josh shook his head. He was frightened now-terrified-because his sister was still with Flamel and the others. He had to get her away from them. A sudden thought struck him. “What about the army of monsters on Alcatraz?”
“There are beasts on the island, that is true. But Alcatraz is, as it has always been, a prison, Josh. When someone like me comes across a monster on this earth, we capture it and imprison it on the island. That is why Perenelle-who is as monstrous as any beast-was there.”
Clarent was now pointing toward the floor, and the gold had gone from most of Josh’s hands. Only his fingertips remained metallic and bloodred where they touched the stone.
“Why did you call me?”
“First to get you away from the Alchemyst and the Sorceress’s influence so you could think for yourself and make your own decisions. And second, to make you an offer.” Dee laid the Codex on the table and crossed the room to slump on a couch. Still holding Clarent, Josh followed and sat directly opposite him. Virginia moved around to stand in the shadows behind Dee.
“You are Gold, Josh. Pure Gold. There have been perhaps a dozen people in the history of the world to have a pure gold aura: Tutankhamen, Moctezuma, Askia, Osei Tutu, Midas, Jason and even the creator of the Codex, Abraham himself. In less than a week, you have been Awakened and trained in Water and Fire.” Dee shook his head. “That is astonishing. But you need to make a decision now. You need to know which side you are fighting for.”
Josh placed the sword on the floor and buried his head in his hands. “I don’t know what to think,” he said, confused and miserable. “I just don’t know. When I’m talking to Flamel… he makes it sound as if you’re the villain… and yet, when I’m talking to you, you sound so reasonable. I think I sort of believe you. Not completely, though,” he added quickly.
“I understand,” Dee said gently. “Truly, I do.” He paused and then leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “There is something I can do for you, a gift I can give you that will allow you to discern the truth for yourself.”
Josh looked up, frowning, suddenly remembering. “When I got here-you said something about being able to teach me one of the most powerful of all the magics, something that not even Nicholas could teach me.” He stopped, cautious about continuing. “Or did I dream that?”
“No, you did not dream it.” Dee stood and dusted off his hands. “There is one art that the legendary Alchemyst never learned.”
Josh stood. “Why not?” he asked.
“Because your friend Nicholas is neither as powerful nor as clever as he likes to appear.” Dee’s eyes sparkled. “Josh, I can give you the power to raise the dead, to talk to them, to command them.”
Josh blinked. “The dead…,” he began, not quite sure how he felt about that. It didn’t sound like a particularly powerful gift.
“Think about it.” Dee grabbed Josh’s arms, and threads of his yellow aura coiled like tiny serpents around the boy’s wrists. “You will be able to question any dead people, from any age, about the Flamels. Ask them whatever you wish-and they can only tell you the truth. While you animate them, you are their master and they must obey you. Find people who knew the Flamels-who knew me, even-and question them. You will be able to determine the truth for yourself. Then decide whom you want to fight for.”
The possibilities shocked Josh into silence. Finally, incredulously, he asked, “Anyone?”
“Anyone.” Dee nodded. “All you need is the smallest fragment of bone.”
“Or a piece of clothing or jewelry,” Virginia Dare said quietly from the shadows. “Or a sword they carried,” she added, indicating the sword lying at his feet.
“Is that how you raised the creatures in Ojai?” Josh asked Dee.
“Yes.”
“You animated animals. Could I bring back dinosaurs?”
“Yes. Anything dead you can bring back to life. It is an awesome power,” Dee said. “Do you want to learn it?”
“Yes,” Josh said eagerly, “what do I have to do?”
“Well, first you can help me push this furniture out of the way. Apparently Miss Dare does not move furniture.”
Josh helped Dee shove a heavy sofa up against the wall. “What’s this magic called, and why are we clearing the floor?”
“I am going to make you a necromancer, Josh.” Dee smiled. “Normally, it would take decades to train you, but there is someone who can grant you this gift instantaneously. All you have to do is summon her.” He indicated the cleared floor. “She’s traveling through a distant Shadowrealm, but we can call her back here.”
“An Elder?”
“Better than an Elder: an Archon. We are going to call Coatlicue, the Mother of All the Gods.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
“C oatlicue! What madness is this?” Prometheus cried. He pulled his hand away from the pulsing red skull and pressed it close to his chest. The skin was pale and wrinkled, veins and bones prominent.
Nicholas was ashen-faced. “What is Dee doing? Coatlicue cannot train Josh in necromancy.”
“Coatlicue hates the Elders,” Prometheus whispered. “In ages past she gathered an army of Archons and their creations and rampaged through the Shadowrealms, destroying all in her path. She cannot be killed, so she was banished to the most distant and inhospitable Shadowrealm ever created-little more than a flat disc of rock. She has been there for tens of millennia.”
“Dee is no fool,” Nicholas said. “He knows he cannot bring Coatlicue into this world. He would not be able to control her.”
“I don’t think he intends to loose Coatlicue on the earth,” Perenelle said quietly, looking at Prometheus. “You told us Dee had been declared utlaga. I think Dee has declared war on the Dark Elders,” she whispered. “He’s going to set her on them: if they are fighting her, they will have no time for him.”
“But this Archon, she is like no other,” Prometheus said. He tapped the crystal skull. “I have seen the records of the battles she fought with the Great Elders.” He tried to laugh, but it came out as a croak. “If Dee calls her and manages to bring her through to this world, she will be ravenously hungry. She will eat him.”
“Of course!” Flamel whispered urgently. “That’s why he’ll not call the Archon himself. He’ll get Josh to do it!”
Prometheus turned to the Alchemyst, mouth set i
n a grim line. “No, Dee wouldn’t…”
Nicholas Flamel nodded, and huge ice-white tears welled up in Perenelle’s eyes. “Yes, he would. He’s going to sacrifice the boy to the Mother of All the Gods.”
CHAPTER SIXTY
Niten fit a Bluetooth earpiece into his left ear and pressed a button. “Yes.” He listened intently while Aoife watched him closely. In the backseat, Sophie stirred.
“We’re stuck in morning traffic,” Niten said quietly. He looked out the window. “Route 101 isn’t moving. I’d say we could be at least an hour away from our destination. Maybe ninety minutes. It depends what traffic is like over the bridge.”
Sophie stretched and leaned forward over the front seat. She looked at Aoife, who mouthed, Flamel, I think.
“That’s not good…,” Niten said into the tiny microphone. “Not good at all.”
Sophie and Aoife looked at one another. The immortal’s tone was grim.
“Do you have any control over the boy? Any influence at all?” He listened, nodding. “I’ll tell her,” he said finally, and hung up.
Aoife and Sophie sat in silence, waiting for the immortal to gather his thoughts, and when he finally spoke, it was in the formal language of his youth. “There is no easy way to say this, and I would be doing you a disservice if I tried to disguise the seriousness of the situation: the English Magician intends to sacrifice Josh to an Archon. Nicholas, Perenelle and Prometheus are using the skull to see through Josh’s eyes. They can hear everything he hears, but they have no way of warning him… and even if they could, they are not sure he would believe them. Dee has been working on him, poisoning his mind. And the Magician can be very persuasive. Apparently, he has told Josh that an Archon called Coatlicue will make him a necromancer.”
“Coatlicue,” Sophie breathed. The name brought on a flood of the Witch’s memories.
And they were terrifying.
“Coatlicue!” The girl felt as if she had been struck in the chest. For a moment she couldn’t breathe; black spots danced before her eyes. She pressed both hands to her mouth to prevent herself from screaming.
“Who is this Archon?” Niten asked. He looked to Aoife for an answer.
But the warrior shook her head. “I’ve heard the name, but only vaguely. It’s long before my time. I think there was a war and she was banished…”
“She is called the Mother of All the Gods,” Sophie said, her voice shaking. “She was an Archon scientist and a great beauty. But she experimented on herself and her experiments turned her hideous and insane. Now she’s like a ravenous beast.” Sophie turned to look at Aoife. “Out of her own DNA she created the original blood drinkers who eventually became your race. Coatlicue was the first vampire.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
“D id I ever tell you,” Billy the Kid began, “that I was afraid of nothing?”
“No, I don’t believe you did,” Machiavelli said tiredly. He didn’t think he’d ever met anyone who talked as much as the American immortal.
“Good. Because that would have been a lie, and I really don’t like to lie.” The American pointed with his chin at the creature standing outside the building with the American eagle and the words Administration Building over the doors. “There’s no shame in admitting that I’m afraid of this… thing. What is it?”
“It is a sphinx,” Machiavelli said quietly. “Body of a lion, wings of an eagle, head of a beautiful young woman. And try not to irritate her, Billy. This creature would have you for a snack.”
“She is one ugly lion…”
“Billy,” Machiavelli began.
“And she’s got mangy wings…”
“Billy!”
“And she stinks like she’s just stepped in something.”
“I also have excellent hearing,” the sphinx said. Her tiny female head moved from Billy to Machiavelli and then back to Billy again. A forked black tongue flickered between her thin lips, dancing in the air between them. The American immortal’s eyes crossed, trying to focus on it.
“And your breath smells,” Billy muttered.
The creature’s long flat pupils dilated. “Once you’ve done what you came to do, immortal, you should not linger here,” she rasped.
“Why not?” Billy asked defiantly.
“I’m hungry,” the sphinx whispered, tongue flickering.
“Shall we begin?” Machiavelli said quickly, before Billy could reply. Reaching under his coat, he pulled out a single sheet of paper and waved it in the air. “I’ve got my instructions here.”
The creature’s small head turned to Machiavelli and then looked back at Billy again. “Are you sure you need this one?” The tongue flickered through the American’s greasy hair. “Tasty.”
“Yes,” Machiavelli said. “I need him.”
“And afterward? Maybe you could leave him for me,” she suggested in a wheedling tone. “A little treat.”
“I’ll see,” Machiavelli said. Billy opened his mouth, but Machiavelli dropped his hand onto the back of his neck and squeezed hard, and whatever the American had been about to say came out as a strangled squawk. “Come now,” Machiavelli continued. “Take us to the cells. My instructions are to start with the amphibious creatures. I have to remove the sleeping spell and release them into the bay. Nereus and his daughters will guide them toward the city. Once they reach San Francisco and move into the streets, Quetzalcoatl’s agents will hijack one of the tourist boats and bring it over here. We’ll load up the rest of the creatures and sail them back to the mainland.”
“Will this take long?” the sphinx asked.
“Why, you in a hurry to go somewhere?” Billy asked.
The creature’s mouth opened to reveal a maw of needle-sharp teeth. “I’ve not had breakfast yet.” The sphinx looked at Machiavelli. “Arrogance always tastes sweet, like chicken. If you will not give him to me, then let me buy him from you. I will give you a fortune for this humani.”
“How much of a fortune?” Machiavelli asked with a smile.
“Hey!” Billy said indignantly.
“How much do you want?” the sphinx asked seriously.
“I’m not for sale!” Billy snapped.
“We’ll talk about it later,” Machiavelli said to the sphinx. “We must hurry; time is moving on. Our masters want these creatures loose in the city by noon.”
The sphinx turned and padded away. “Go through these doors. I will meet you downstairs,” she said, and then Billy realized that the creature was too big to fit through the double doors. Her head turned at an unnatural angle and she flicked her long black tongue at Billy. He stuck out his tongue in return. “Like chicken…” She padded away, claws clicking on the stones.
“That wasn’t funny,” Billy hissed to the Italian. “You know these Elders and Next Generation have no sense of humor. She thought you were serious.”
“How do you know I wasn’t?” the Italian asked.
“I knew you were going to say that,” Billy said. He watched as Machiavelli stopped in the doorway and turned to look at the city across the bay. “Having second thoughts?” he asked.
Machiavelli shook his head. “Just taking a last look.” He turned to Billy. “Once we do this, nothing will ever be the same again. We will be outlaws.”
Billy the Kid grinned. “I’ve been an outlaw all my life. It’s not so bad.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
“C oatlicue…”
The word rippled through the spaces between the Shadowrealms.
“Coatlicue…”
The word vibrated and trembled, pulsed and throbbed.
“Coatlicue…”
A single voice, calling, calling, calling.
All she had left were dreams.
Dreams of a golden age.
Dreams of a golden time.
Of a time when she was beautiful.
Of a time when she was young.
Of a time when she ruled the world.
And now those dreams were disturbed.
�
��Coatlicue…”
Josh Newman took a deep breath and focused on the four swords, which Dee had arranged in a square on the floor. They were each glowing softly, steaming red and white, green and brown smoke into the air.
“Coatlicue…”
“All you have to do is to call her,” Dee had said. “There is a magic in names, a power in them. She will hear you and she will come. The unique combination of the swords and your powerful aura will draw her here.”
“And she will teach me necromancy?” Josh asked.
“Yes,” Dee had said, and for a single instant, Josh had thought he’d heard Nicholas and Perenelle screaming “No!” Then he realized that that was what they probably would say. If he could learn necromancy, he would be able to find out the truth about the Flamels and the Elders and more, much, much more. He’d be able to talk to all the great men and women of history, ask them questions, discover their secrets, find out where they had hidden their treasures. He could resurrect dinosaurs from single bones, even-and the thought was shocking-re-create primitive men so that his parents could study them firsthand. And somewhere, at the back of his mind, he wondered why, if Dee was a necromancer, he had not used the power in the same way. Just what had the Magician used necromancy for?
“Coatlicue…” Josh focused on the swords. Clarent was at the bottom of the square, the blade pointing to the left. Durendal was on the left-hand side, its blade pointing up; Excalibur was on top, its blade pointing right, toward Joyeuse, whose blade was pointing down. The stone swords were trailing fire into the air, and the colors had started to weave and entwine in the middle of the square.
She slept.
And her sleep lasted eons.
She dreamt.
And her dreams lasted centuries.
But the nightmares lasted millennia.
And in this place without light, without sound, without sensation, she did not know whether she woke or slept. She simply existed.
Red. A spot of color.
But in this foul prison, there was no light.
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