Nicholas Flamel 2 - The Magician sotinf-2

by Michael Scott

  proper sewers in a few moments.

  Josh took a deep breath and gagged on the smell. He had to remember to

  breathe only through his mouth. And how is that going to help? he muttered

  through clenched teeth.

  The sewers of Paris are mirrors of the streets above, Machiavelli

  explained, his breath warm against Josh s ear. The bigger sewers are fifteen

  feet high.

  Machiavelli was correct; moments later they came out of the cramped and

  claustrophobic service tunnel into a tall arched sewer wide enough to drive a

  car through. The high brick walls were brightly lit and lined with black

  pipes of various thicknesses. Somewhere in the distance, water splashed and

  gurgled.

  Josh felt the claustrophobia ease a little. Sophie sometimes got scared in

  wide-open spaces; he was afraid of tightly enclosed spots. Agoraphobia and

  claustrophobia. He took a deep breath; the air was still tainted with

  effluent, but at least it was breathable. He lifted the front of his black

  T-shirt to cover his face and breathed in: it stank. When he got out of

  here if he got out of here he d have to burn everything, including the fancy

  designer jeans Saint-Germain had given him. He quickly dropped the shirt,

  realizing that he d nearly exposed the bag he wore on the cord around his

  neck containing the pages from the Codex. No matter what happened now, he was

  determined that he wasn't going to give up the pages to Dee, not until he was

  sure very, very, very sure that the Magician s motives were honest.

  Where are we? he wondered aloud, looking back at Machiavelli. Dee had

  walked out into the center of the sewer, the solid white ball now spinning

  just above the palm of his outstretched hand.

  The tall Italian glanced around. I ve no idea, he admitted. There are

  about twenty-one hundred kilometers of sewers around thirteen hundred miles,

  he amended, seeing the blank look on Josh s face. But don't worry, we ll not

  get lost. Most have their own street signs.

  Street signs in the sewers?

  The sewers of Paris are one of the great wonders of this city. Machiavelli

  smiled.

  Come! Dee s voice cracked out, echoing in the chamber.

  Do you know where we re going? Josh asked quietly. He knew from experience

  that he needed to keep distracted; once he started thinking about the

  narrowness of the tunnels and the weight of the earth above him, his

  claustrophobia would reduce him to a wreck.

  We re going down, into the deepest, oldest part of the catacombs. You re

  going to be Awakened.

  Do you know who we re going to see?

  Machiavelli s usually impassive face twitched in a grimace. Yes. By

  reputation only. I ve never seen it. He lowered his voice to little more

  than a whisper and caught Josh s sleeve, pulling him back. It s not too late

  to turn back, he said.

  Josh blinked in surprise. Dee wouldn't like that.

  Probably not, Machiavelli agreed with a wry smile.

  Josh was puzzled. Dee had said Machiavelli wasn't his friend, and it had been

  obvious that the two men didn't agree. But I thought you and Dee were on the

  same side.

  We are both in the service of the Elders, it is true but I have never

  approved of the English Magician and his methods.

  Ahead of them, Dee turned into a smaller tunnel and stopped before a narrow

  metal door that was secured by a thick padlock. He pinched through the hasp

  of the metal lock with fingernails that stank of foul yellow power and pulled

  open the door. Hurry, he called back impatiently.

  This this person we re going to see, Josh said slowly, can they really

  Awaken my powers?

  I have no doubt about it, Machiavelli said softly. Is the Awakening so

  important to you? he asked, and Josh was aware that Machiavelli was watching

  him closely.

  My sister was Awakened my twin sister, he explained slowly. I want I need

  to have my powers Awakened so we re alike again. He looked at the tall

  white-haired man. Does that make sense?

  Machiavelli nodded, his face an unreadable mask. But is that the only

  reason, Josh?

  The boy looked at him for a long moment before he turned away. Machiavelli

  was right; it wasn't the only reason. When he d held Clarent, he d briefly

  experienced a hint of what it must be like to have Awakened senses. For a few

  moments, he d felt truly alive, he d felt complete and more than anything

  else, he wanted to experience that feeling again.

  Dee led them into another tunnel, which was, if anything, even narrower than

  the first. Josh felt his stomach clench and his heart start to thump. The

  tunnel turned and twisted downward in a series of slender stairs. The stones

  here were older, the steps irregularly shaped, the walls soft and crumbling

  as they brushed past. In some places it was so narrow that Josh had to turn

  sideways to slip through. He got stuck in a particularly confined corner and

  immediately started to feel breathless panic bubbling in his chest. Then Dee

  caught one arm and unceremoniously yanked him through, tearing a long strip

  off the back of his T-shirt. Nearly there, the Magician muttered. He raised

  his arm slightly and the bobbing ball of silver light rose higher into the

  air, revealing the tunnel s pitted brickwork.

  Hang on a second; let me catch my breath. Josh bent over, hands on his

  knees, breathing deeply. He realized that as long as he concentrated on the

  ball of light and didn't think about the walls and ceiling closing in on him,

  he was OK. How do you know where we re going? he panted. Have you been

  here before?

  I was here once before a long time ago, Dee said with a grin. Right now,

  I m just following the light. The harsh white light turned the Magician s

  smile into something terrifying.

  Josh remembered a trick his football coach had taught him. He wrapped his

  hands around his stomach and squeezed hard as he breathed in and straightened

  up. The feeling of queasiness immediately eased. Who are we going to see?

  he asked.

  Patience, humani, patience. Dee looked past Josh to where Machiavelli was

  standing. I m sure our Italian friend will agree. One of the great

  advantages of immortality is that one learns patience. There is a saying:

  good things come to those who wait.

  Not always good things, Machiavelli muttered as Dee turned away.

  At the end of the narrow tunnel was a low metal door. It looked as if it

  hadn't been opened in decades and had rusted solid into the weeping limestone

  wall. In the white light, Josh saw that the rust had stained the off-white

  stone the color of dried blood.

  The ball of light bobbed in the air while Dee ran his glowing yellow

  fingernail around the edge of the door, cutting it out of the frame, the

  stink of rotten eggs blanketing the odor of sewage.

  What s through here? Josh asked. Now that he d started to get his fear

  under control, he was beginning to feel a little excitement. Once he was

  Awakened, he d slip away and get back to Sophie. He turned to look at

  Machiavelli, but the Italian shook his head and pointed to Dee. Dr. Dee?

  Josh asked.

 
Dee broke open the low door and jerked it out of its frame. Soft stone

  crumbled and flaked away around it. If I am correct and I almost always am,

  the Magician added, then this will lead us into the Catacombs of Paris. Dee

  leaned the door against the wall and then stepped through the opening.

  Josh ducked to follow him. I ve never heard of them.

  Few people outside Paris have, Machiavelli said, and yet, along with the

  sewers, they are one of the marvels of this city. Over a hundred seventy

  miles of mysterious and labyrinthine tunnels. The catacombs were once

  limestone quarries. And now they are filled

  Josh stepped through the opening, straightened up and looked around.

  with bones.

  The boy felt something twist in the pit of his stomach and he swallowed hard,

  a sour and bitter taste at the back of his throat. Directly ahead, as far as

  he could see in the gloomy tunnel, the walls, the curved ceiling and even the

  floor were composed of polished human bones.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  N icholas had just levered up the manhole cover when Joan s phone rang, the

  high-pitched warbling scale making them all jump with fright. The Alchemyst

  dropped the cover back into place with a clang, dancing back before it fell

  on his toes.

  It s Francis, Joan told them, flipping open the phone. She spoke to

  Saint-Germain in rapid-fire French and then snapped the cell closed. He s on

  his way, she said. He said that on no account are we to go down into the

  catacombs without him.

  But we can t wait, Sophie protested.

  Sophie s right. We should Nicholas started to say.

  We wait, Joan said firmly in the voice that had once commanded armies. She

  placed her tiny foot on the manhole cover.

  They ll get away, Sophie said desperately.

  Francis said he knows where they re going, Joan said very softly. She

  turned to look at the Alchemyst. He said you do too. Do you? she demanded.

  Nicholas took a deep breath and then nodded grimly. The early-morning light

  washed all the life from his face, leaving it the color of faded parchment.

  The circles beneath his eyes were bruise dark and baggy. I believe so.

  Where? Sophie asked. She tried to stay calm. She d always been better at

  controlling her temper than her brother was, but right now she was close to

  throwing back her head and screaming in frustration. If the Alchemyst knew

  where Josh was going, why weren t they heading there now?

  Dee is taking Josh to have his powers Awakened, Flamel said slowly,

  obviously choosing his words with care.

  Sophie frowned, confused. Is that so bad? isn't that what we wanted?

  Yes, it s what we wanted, but not how we wanted it. Although his face was

  expressionless, there was pain in his eyes. Much depends on who or

  what Awakens a person s powers. It is a dangerous process. It can even be

  deadly.

  Sophie slowly turned to look at him. And yet you were willing to allow

  Hekate to Awaken both Josh and me. Her brother had been right all along:

  Flamel had put them both in danger. She could see that now.

  It was necessary for your own protection. There were dangers, yes, but

  neither of you was in any danger from the Goddess herself.

  What sort of dangers?

  Most of the Elders were never generous toward what they called humani. Very

  few of them were prepared to give without attaching some sort of conditions,

  Flamel explained. The greatest gift the Elders can bestow is that of

  immortality. Humans want to live forever. Both Dee and Machiavelli are in

  service to their Dark Elders who gifted them with immortality.

  In service? Sophie asked, looking from the Alchemyst to Joan.

  They are servants, Joan said gently, some would say slaves. It is the

  price of their immortality and powers.

  Joan s phone rang again with the same ring tone and she flipped it open.

  Fran ois?

  Sophie, Flamel continued quietly, the gift of immortality can be withdrawn

  from a person at any time, and if that happens then all of their unnatural

  years will catch up with them in a matter of moments. Some Elders enslave the

  humani they Awaken, turn them into little better than zombies.

  But Hekate didn't make me immortal when she Awakened me, Sophie argued.

  Unlike the Witch of Endor, Hekate had no interest in humani for countless

  generations. She always remained neutral in the wars between those of us who

  defend humanity and the Dark Elders. A bitter smile twisted his thin lips.

  Perhaps if she had chosen a side, she would still be alive today.

  Sophie looked into the Alchemyst s pale eyes. She was thinking that if Flamel

  had not gone into Hekate s Shadowrealm, the Elder would still be alive.

  You re saying Josh is in danger, she said finally.

  Terrible danger.

  Sophie s gaze never left Flamel s face. Josh was in danger not because of Dee

  or Machiavelli, but because Nicholas Flamel has placed the two of them in

  this terrible situation. He was protecting them, he said, and once she had

  believed that without question. But now now she didn't know what to think.

  Come. Joan snapped her phone shut, caught Sophie s hand and dragged her

  down the alleyway toward the street. Francis is on the way.

  Flamel took one final look at the manhole cover, then tucked Clarent under

  his coat and hurried after them.

  Joan led them out of the narrow side street onto the Avenue du President

  Wilson, then quickly turned left onto Rue Debrousse and headed back toward

  the river. The air was filled with the sounds of countless police and

  ambulance sirens, and in the skies overhead police helicopters buzzed low

  over the city. The streets were almost completely empty, and no one paid any

  attention to three people running for shelter.

  Sophie shivered; the whole scene was so surreal. It was like something she d

  see in a war documentary on the Discovery Channel.

  At the bottom of the Rue Debrousse, they found Saint-Germain waiting in a

  nondescript black BMW badly in need of washing. The front and rear passenger

  doors were open slightly, and the tinted driver s window hummed down as they

  approached. Saint-Germain was grinning delightedly. Nicholas, you should

  come home more often; the city is in chaos. It s all terribly exciting. I ve

  not had so much fun in centuries.

  Joan slid in beside her husband, while Nicholas and Sophie climbed into the

  back. Saint-Germain gunned the engine, but Nicholas leaned forward and

  squeezed his shoulder.

  Not so fast. We don't need to draw any attention to ourselves, he warned.

  But with the panic on the streets, we shouldn't be driving slowly, either,

  Saint-Germain pointed out. He eased the car away from the curb and set off

  down the Avenue de New York. He drove with one hand on the steering wheel,

  the other draped over the seat as he kept twisting around to talk to the

  Alchemyst.

  Completely numb, Sophie slumped against the window, staring out at the river

  flashing by on her left. In the distance, on the opposite side of the Seine,

  she could make out the now familiar shape of the Eiffel Tower rising over the

  rooftops. She was exhausted and her head was spinning.
She was confused about

  the Alchemyst. Nicholas couldn't be bad, could he? Saint-Germain and

  Joan Scatty, too obviously respected him. Even Hekate and the Witch liked

  him. Flickering thoughts that she knew were not hers hovered at the very edge

  of her consciousness, but when she tried to focus, they drifted away. They

  were the Witch of Endor s memories, and she knew instinctively that they were

  important. They were something to do with the catacombs, and the creature who

  lived in the depths .

  Officially, the police are reporting that a portion of the catacombs has

  caved in and brought down some houses with it, Saint-Germain was saying.

  They re claiming that the sewers have ruptured and that methane, carbon

  dioxide and carbon monoxide gas have escaped into the city. The center of

  Paris is being sealed off and evacuated. People are being advised to remain

  indoors.

  Nicholas leaned back against the leather seats and closed his eyes. Has

  anyone been injured? he asked.

  A few cuts and bruises, but nothing more serious has been reported.

  Joan shook her head in amazement. Considering what s just tromped through

  the city, that s a minor miracle.

  Any sightings of Nidhogg? Nicholas asked.

  Not on any of the main news channels yet, but some grainy cell phone images

  have turned up on blogs, and Le Monde and Le Figaro are both claiming to have

  exclusive images of what they are calling The Creature from the Catacombs

  and The Beast from the Pit.

  Sophie leaned forward, following the conversation. She looked from Nicholas

  to Saint-Germain and then back at the Alchemyst. Soon the whole world will

  know the truth. What happens then?

  Nothing, the two men said simultaneously.

  Nothing? But that s not possible.

  Joan swiveled around in the passenger seat. But that is what is going to

  happen. This will be covered up.

  Sophie looked at Flamel. He nodded in agreement. Most people simply won t

  believe it anyway, Sophie. It will be dismissed as a hoax or a prank. Those

  who do think it true will be called conspiracy theorists. And you can be sure

  that Machiavelli s people are already working to confiscate and destroy every

  image.

  Within a couple of hours, Saint-Germain added, the events of this morning

  will simply be reported as an unfortunate accident. Sightings of a monster