blade, and the monster's skin immediately started to harden. Sophie's aura
blazed brighter than it had ever been before, and instantly her brain was
filled with impossible visions and incredible memories. Then her aura
overloaded and winked out in an explosion that picked her up and sent her
sailing through the air. She managed to scream once before she came crashing
down onto the canvas roof of Joan's Citron, which slowly and gently ripped
along its seams and deposited her neatly in the front passenger seat.
Nidhogg spasmed, great claws opening as its flesh hardened.
Joan of Arc darted through the monster's legs, grabbed Scatty around the
waist and jerked her free, oblivious to the creature's huge feet stamping
inches from her head.
Nidhogg bellowed, a sound that set house alarms clanging across the city.
Every car alarm in the parking lot burst to life. The beast attempted to turn
its head, to follow Joan as she dragged Scatty away, but its ancient flesh
was solidifying into thick black stone. Its mouth opened, revealing its
daggerlike teeth.
Abruptly, a huge section of the quayside cracked; rock pulverized to dust,
crumpling to powder beneath the creature's weight. Nidhogg tilted forward and
crashed down through the moored tourist boat, snapping it in two,
disappearing into the Seine in an enormous explosion of water that sent a
huge wave racing down the river.
Lying on the quayside, close to the water's edge, soaked through, Scathach
came slowly, groggily awake. I haven t felt this bad in centuries, she
mumbled, attempting but failing to sit up. Joan eased her into a sitting
position and held her tightly. The last thing I remember Scatty's green
eyes snapped open. Nidhogg Josh.
He tried to save you, Flamel said, limping up to Scatty and Joan. He
snatched Clarent from the quayside. He stabbed Nidhogg, slowed it down long
enough for us to get here. Then Joan fought the Disir for you.
We all fought for you, Joan said. She put her arm around Sophie, who had
staggered from the wrecked car, bruised and battered, with a long scrape
along her forearm but otherwise unharmed. Sophie finally defeated Nidhogg.
The Warrior slowly got to her feet, turning her head from side to side,
working her stiff neck muscles. And Josh? she asked, looking around. Her
eyes went wide with alarm. Where s Josh?
Dee and Machiavelli have him, Flamel said, his face gray with exhaustion.
We re not sure how.
We have to go after them now, Sophie said urgently.
Their car's not in good shape, they cannot have gotten far, Flamel said. He
turned to look at the Citro n. I m afraid yours has taken a battering as
well.
And I did so love that car , Joan murmured.
Let's get out of here, Scatty said decisively. We re about to be inundated
with police.
And then, like a shark erupting from the waves, Dagon exploded out of the
Seine. Rearing up, more fish now than man, gills open on his long neck, round
eyes bulging, he wrapped webbed claws around Scathach and dragged her
backward into the river. Finally, Shadow. Finally.
They disappeared into the water with barely a splash and didn't reappear.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
P erenelle followed de Ayala's ghost as he led her through the maze of
Alcatraz's ruined buildings. She tried to keep to the shadows, ducking under
shattered walls and empty doorways, constantly alert for creatures moving in
the night. She didn't think the sphinx would dare venture out of the
prison despite their terrifying appearance, sphinxes were cowardly creatures,
fearful of the dark. However, many of the beings she'd seen in the
spiderwebbed cells below were creatures of the night.
The entrance to the tunnel was almost directly under the tower that had once
held the island's only fresh water supply. Its metal framework was rusted,
eaten away by the salt sea, acid bird droppings and countless tiny leaks from
the huge water tank. However, the ground directly beneath the tower was lush
with growth, fed by the same dripping water.
De Ayala pointed out an irregular patch of earth close to one of the metal
legs. You will find a shaft leading down to the tunnel under here. There is
another entrance to the tunnel cut into the cliff face, he said, but it is
only accessible by boat at low tide. That is how Dee brought his prisoner to
the island. He doesn t know about this entrance.
Perenelle found a rusted length of metal and used it to scrape away the dirt,
revealing broken and cracked concrete beneath the soil. Using the edge of the
metal bar, she began to dig away at the dirt. She kept glancing up, trying to
gauge how close the birds had come to the island, but with the wind whipping
in over the ruined buildings and keening through the rusted metal struts of
the water tower, it was impossible to make out any other noises. Tendrils of
the thick fog that had claimed San Francisco and the Golden Gate Bridge had
now reached the island, coating everything in a dripping, salt-smelling
cloud.
When she had scraped back the earth, de Ayala drifted over one particular
spot. Just here, he said, his voice a breath in her ear. The prisoners
discovered the existence of the tunnel and managed to dig a shaft down to it.
They understood that decades of water dripping from the tower had softened
the soil and even eaten away at the stones beneath. But when they eventually
broke through to the tunnel below, it was at high tide, and they found that
it was flooded. They abandoned their efforts. He showed his teeth in a
perfect smile he had not possessed in life. If only they had waited until
the tide turned.
Perenelle scraped away more soil, revealing more broken stone. Jamming the
metal bar under the edge of a block, she leaned hard on it. The stone didn't
budge. She pressed again with both hands, and then, when that didn't work,
lifted a boulder and hammered once on the metal bar: the clink rang out
across the island, tolling like a bell.
Oh, this is impossible, she muttered. She was reluctant to use her powers,
since it would reveal her location to the sphinx, but she had no other
choice. Cupping her right hand, she allowed her aura to gather in her palm,
where it puddled like mercury. She rested her hand lightly, almost gently, on
the stone, then turned her hand over and allowed the raw power to pour from
her palm and seep into the granite. The stone turned soft and soapy and then
melted like candle wax. Thick globs of liquid rock fell away and disappeared
into the darkness below.
I ve been dead a long time; I thought I d seen wonders, but I ve never seen
anything like that, de Ayala said in awe.
A Scythian mage taught me the spell in return for saving his life. It s
quite simple, really, she said. She leaned over the hole and then jerked
back, eyes watering. Oh my: it stinks!
The ghost of Juan Manuel de Ayala hovered directly over the hole. He turned
and smiled, showing his perfect teeth again. I can't smell anything.
Trust me, be glad you cannot, Perenelle muttered, shaking her head; ghosts
&nbs
p; often had a peculiar sense of humor. The tunnel reeked of rotting fish and
ancient seaweed, of rancid bird and bat droppings, of pulped wood and rusting
metal. There was another scent also, bitter and acrid, almost like vinegar.
Bending down, she tore a strip off the bottom of her dress and wrapped it
around her nose and mouth as a crude mask.
There is a ladder of sorts, de Ayala said, but be careful, I m sure it s
rusted through. He suddenly glanced up. The birds have reached the southern
end of the island. And something else. Something evil. I can feel it.
The Morrigan. Perenelle leaned over the hole and snapped her fingers. A
slender feather of soft white light peeled off her fingertips and drifted
down the hole, disappearing into the gloom below, shedding a flickering milky
light on the streaked and dripping walls. The light had also revealed the
narrow ladder, which turned out to be little more than spikes driven at
irregular angles into the wall. The spikes, each no longer than four inches,
were thick with rust and dripping moisture. Leaning over, she caught the
first spike and tugged hard. It seemed solid enough.
Perenelle twisted around and slid one leg into the opening. Her foot found
one of the spikes and immediately slipped off. Drawing her leg back out of
the hole, she tugged off her sandals and tucked them into her belt. She could
hear the flapping of birds thousands, perhaps tens of thousands of
them drawing closer. She knew her tiny expenditure of power to melt the stone
and light up the interior of the tunnel would have alerted the Morrigan to
her position. She had only moments before the birds arrived .
Perenelle put her leg into the shaft again, her bare foot touching the spike.
It was cold and slimy beneath her skin, but at least she was able to get a
better grip. Grasping handfuls of tough grass, she lowered herself, her foot
finding another spike, and then she reached down and caught a spike in her
left hand. She winced. It felt disgusting, squelching beneath her fingers.
And then she smiled; how she d changed. When she was a girl, growing up in
Quimper in France all those years ago, she d gone paddling in rock pools,
picking and eating raw shellfish. She d wandered barefoot through streets
that were ankle deep in mud and filth.
Testing each step, Perenelle climbed down the length of the shaft. At one
point a spike broke away beneath her foot and went clanging into the
darkness. It seemed to fall for a long time. She lay back against the foul
wall, feeling the damp soak through her thin summer dress. Holding on
desperately, she sought another spike. She felt the metal nail in her hand
shift, and for a heart-stopping moment, she thought it was going to pull free
of the wall. But it held.
A close call. I thought you were going to be joining me, the ghost of de
Ayala said, materializing out of the gloom directly before her face.
I m not that easy to kill, Perenelle said grimly, continuing to climb down.
Though it would be funny if, having survived decades of concentrated attacks
from Dee and his Dark Elders, I was to die in a fall. She looked at the
vague shape of the face before her. What s happening up there? She jerked
her head in the direction of the opening of the shaft, visible only because
of the wisps of gray fog that curled and dribbled into it.
The island is covered with birds, de Ayala said. Perhaps a hundred
thousand of them; they are perched on every available surface. The Crow
Goddess has gone into the heart of the prison, no doubt in search of the
sphinx.
We don't have much time, Perenelle warned. She took another step and her
foot sank up to the ankle in thick gooey mud. She had reached the bottom of
the shaft. The mud was icy cold, and she could feel the chill seeping into
her bones. Something crawled over her toes. Which way?
De Ayala s arm appeared, ghostly white, directly in front of her, pointing to
the left. She realized that she was standing at the mouth of a tall, roughly
hewn tunnel that sloped gently downward. De Ayala s ghostly luminescence lit
up the coating of spiders webs that sheathed the walls. They were so thick
that it looked as if the walls were painted silver.
I cannot go any farther, the ghost said, his voice rasping around the
walls. Dee has placed incredibly powerful warding spells and sigils in the
tunnel; I cannot get past. The cell you are looking for is about ten paces
ahead and on your left-hand side.
Although Perenelle was reluctant to use her magic, she knew she had no
choice. She was certainly not going to wander into a tunnel in
pitch-darkness. She snapped her fingers and a globe of white fire winked to
life over her right shoulder. It shed a soft opalescent glow over the tunnel,
picking out each spider s web in intricate detail. The webs stretched in a
thick curtain right across the opening. She could see webs woven on top of
webs and wondered how many spiders were down here.
Perenelle stepped forward, the light moving with her, and she suddenly saw
the first of the Wards and protections Dee had placed along the tunnel. A
series of tall metal-tipped wooden spears had been implanted deep in the
muddy floor. The flat metal head of each spear was painted with an ancient
symbol of power, a square hieroglyph that would have been familiar to the
ancient Maya peoples of Central America. She could see at least a dozen
spears, each painted with a different symbol. She knew that individually the
symbols were meaningless, but together they set up an incredibly powerful
zigzagging network of raw power that crisscrossed the corridor with invisible
beams of black light. It reminded her of the complicated laser alarms banks
used. The power had no effect on humans all she could feel was a dull buzzing
and a tension at the back of her neck but it was an impenetrable barrier to
any of the Elder Race, the Next Generation and the Creatures of the Were.
Even de Ayala, a ghost, was affected by the barrier.
Perenelle recognized some of the symbols on the spearheads; she had seen them
in the Codex and etched onto the walls of the ruins at Palenque in Mexico.
Most of them predated mankind; many of them were even older than the Elders
and belonged to the race that had inhabited the earth in the far-distant
past. They were the Words of Power, the ancient Symbols of Binding, designed
to protect or trap something either incredibly valuable or extraordinarily
dangerous.
She had a feeling this was going to be the latter.
And she also wondered where Dee had discovered the ancient words.
Sloshing through the thick mud, Perenelle took her first step into the
tunnel. All the spiderwebs rustled and trembled, a sound like the whispering
rustle of leaves. There must be millions of spiders in here, she thought.
They didn't frighten her; she d come up against creatures much more
frightening than spiders, but she was aware that there were probably
poisonous brown recluses, black widows or even South American hunting spiders
amongst the mass of arachnids. A bite from one of them would certainly
incapacitate her, possibl
y even kill her.
Perenelle jerked one of the spears out of the mud and used it to swipe away
the web. The square symbol on the spearhead glowed red and the gossamer webs
hissed and sizzled where the spear touched them. A thick shadow that she knew
was a mass of spiders flowed backward into the gloom. Advancing slowly down
the narrow tunnel, she knocked over each spear she came to, allowing the
filthy mud to wash away the Words of Power, gradually dismantling the
intricate pattern of magic. If Dee had gone to all this trouble to trap
something in the cell, it meant that he couldn't control it. Perenelle wanted
to find out what it was and free it. But as she drew nearer, the globe over
her shoulder throwing a flickering light across the corridor, another thought
crossed her mind: had Dee imprisoned something that even she should be afraid
of, something ancient, something horrible? Suddenly, she didn't know if she
was making a terrible mistake.
The doorposts and the entrance to the cell had been painted with symbols that
hurt her eyes to look at. Harsh and angular, they seemed to shift and twist
on the rock, not unlike the writing in the Book of Abraham. But whereas the
letters in the ancient book formed words in languages she mostly understood,
or at least recognized, these symbols twisted into unimaginable shapes.
She bent down, scooped up some of the mud and splashed it over the letters,
erasing them. Only when she had completely cleaned away the primeval Words of
Power did she step forward and send the globe of light twisting and bobbing
into the cell.
It took Perenelle a single heartbeat to make sense out of what she was
seeing. And in that moment, she realized that dismantling the protective
pattern of power might indeed have been a terrible mistake.
The entire cell was a thick cocoon of spiders webs. In the center of the
cell, dangling from a single strand of silk no thicker than her index finger,
was a spider. The creature was enormous, easily the same size as the huge
water tower that dominated the island above her head. It vaguely resembled a
tarantula but bristling purple hair tipped with gray covered its entire body.
Each of its eight legs was thicker than Perenelle. Set in the center of its
body was a huge, almost human head. It was smooth and round, with no ears, no
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