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Nicholas Flamel 2 - The Magician sotinf-2

Page 38

by Michael Scott


  recently, both the German army and the French Resistance had bases in the

  tunnels during World War II. In this century, illegal art galleries and even

  a movie theater have been found deep underground by the cataflics, the police

  unit who patrol underground.

  Officially, the catacombs are called the Ossuary of Denfert Rochereau, and

  the entrance is directly across from the Denfert Rochereau Metro station.

  Only a small section is open to the public; the tunnels are treacherous,

  narrow, and prone to flooding and are riddled with potholes and wells.

  And are the ideal hiding place for a Sleeping God.

  A special preview of

  THE

  SORCERESS

  Book Three of

  Excerpt copyright 2008 by Michael Scott

  Published by Delacorte Press

  I am tired now, so tired.

  And I am aging fast. There is a stiffness in my joints, my sight is no longer

  sharp and I find I have to strain to hear. Over the past five days I have

  been forced to use my powers, and that has speeded the aging process. I

  estimate that I have aged by at least a decade perhaps more since last

  Thursday. If I am to live, I have to retrieve the Book of Abraham, and I

  cannot I dare not risk using my powers.

  But Dee has the Codex, and I know that I will be forced yet again to use my

  waning aura.

  We are about to enter London. I fear this city above all others, for it is at

  the very heart of Dee s power. London has attracted Elders from across the

  globe: there are more of them in this city than in any other on earth. Elders

  and Next Generation move freely and unnoticed through the streets, and I know

  of at least a dozen Shadowrealms scattered across the British Isles. The last

  time Perenelle and I were in this city, in September 1666, the Magician

  almost burned it to the ground trying to capture us. We ve never been back.

  However, a great number of ley lines meet and converge over these Celtic

  lands, and I pray that with the twins Awakened powers, we can use those

  lines to return to San Francisco and my Perenelle.

  And here too is Gilgamesh the King, the oldest immortal human in the world.

  His knowledge is incalculable and encyclopedic. It is said that he was once

  the guardian of the Codex, that he even knew the mythical Abraham who created

  the Book. Gilgamesh also knows all the elemental magics, though strangely, he

  never possessed the power to use them. The King has no aura. I ve often

  wondered what that must be like: to be aware of so many incredible things, to

  have access to the wisdom of the ancients and yet be unable to use it.

  I have told Sophie and Josh that I need Gilgamesh to train them in the Magic

  of Water and find us a ley line that will take us home. What they do not know

  is that it is a desperate gamble: if the King refuses, then we will be

  trapped in the very heart of Dee s domain, with no possibility of escape.

  Nor have I told them that Gilgamesh is quite, quite insane.

  From the Day Booke of Nicholas Flamel, Alchemyst

  Writ this day, Monday, 4th June,

  in London, the city of my enemies

  MONDAY,

  4th June

  CHAPTER ONE

  I think I see them.

  The young man in the green parka standing directly beneath the huge circular

  clock in St. Pancras station took the phone away from his ear and checked a

  blurred image on the screen. The English Magician had sent the image: the

  picture was grainy, the colors washed and faded, and it looked liked it had

  been taken from an overhead security camera. It showed an older man with

  short gray hair, accompanied by two blond-haired teens, climbing onto a

  train.

  Rising up on his toes, the young man swiveled his head, looking for the trio

  he d glimpsed. For a moment, he thought he d lost them in the milling crowd,

  but even if he had, they wouldn't get far: one of his sisters was downstairs;

  another was in the street outside, watching the entrance.

  Now, where had the old man and the teenagers gone?

  Narrow, pinched nostrils opened wide as the young man sorted through the

  countless scents in the station. He identified and dismissed the mixed stink

  of too many humani, the myriad perfumes and deodorants, the gels and pastes,

  the greasy odor of fried food from the station s restaurants, the richer

  aroma of coffee and the metallic oily tang of the train engines and

  carriages. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back. The odors he was

  seeking were older, wilder, unnatural .

  There!

  Mint: just the merest suggestion.

  Orange: no more than the vaguest hint.

  Vanilla: little more than a trace.

  Hidden behind small rectangular sunglasses, blue-black eyes opened wide and

  his head swiveled, following the gossamer threads of scent through the vast

  train station. He had them now!

  The gray-haired older man, wearing black jeans and a scuffed leather jacket,

  was striding down the station concourse directly toward him. There was a

  small overnight case in his left hand. He was followed by the two teenagers,

  alike enough to be brother and sister. The boy was taller than the girl, and

  they were both wearing backpacks.

  The young man snapped a quick picture with his cell phone camera and sent it

  to Dr. John Dee. Although he had nothing but contempt for the English

  Magician, there was no point in making an enemy of him. Dee was the agent of

  the most dangerous of all the Elders.

  Pulling the hood of his parka over his head, he turned away as the trio drew

  level with him, and dialed his sister, who was waiting downstairs. It s

  definitely Flamel and the twins, he murmured into the phone, speaking the

  ancient language that had eventually become Gaelic. They re heading in your

  direction. We ll take them when they get onto the Euston Road.

  The young man in the hooded parka set off after the Alchemyst and the

  American twins. He moved easily through the early-afternoon crowd, looking

  like just another teenager, anonymous and unnoticed in his sloppy jeans,

  scuffed sneakers and overlarge coat, his head and face concealed by the hood,

  his eyes invisible behind the sunglasses.

  Despite his form, the young man had never been remotely human. He and his

  sisters had first come to this land when it was still joined to the European

  continent, and for generations they had been worshipped as gods. He bitterly

  resented being ordered about by Dee who was, after all, nothing more than a

  humani. But the English Magician had promised the hooded boy a delectable

  prize: Nicholas Flamel, the legendary Alchemyst. Dee s instructions were

  clear; he and his sisters could have Flamel, but the twins must not be

  touched. The boy s thin lips twisted. His sisters would take the boy and

  girl, while he would have the honor of killing Flamel. A coal-black tongue

  licked cracked dry lips. He and his sisters would feast for weeks. And, of

  course, they would keep the tastiest morsels for Mother.

  Nicholas Flamel slowed, allowing Sophie and Josh to catch up with him.

  Forcing a smile, he pointed to the thirty-foot-tall bronze statue of a couple

  embracing beneat
h the clock. It s called The Meeting Place, he said loudly,

  and then added in a whisper, We re being followed. Flamel grasped Josh s

  arm with iron-hard fingers. don't even think about turning around.

  Who? Sophie asked.

  What? Josh said tightly. He was feeling nauseated; his newly Awakened

  senses were overwhelmed by the scents and sounds of the train station. The

  light was so sharp he wished he had a pair of sunglasses to shield his eyes.

  What? is the better question, Nicholas said grimly. He raised a finger to

  point up to the clock, as if he were talking about it. I m not sure what it

  is, he admitted. Something ancient. I felt it the moment we stepped off the

  train.

  Felt it? Josh asked.

  A tingle, like an itch. My aura reacted to the aura of whoever whatever is

  here. When you have a little more control of your own auras, you ll be able

  to do the same.

  Tilting her head back, as if she were admiring the latticework of the

  metal-and-glass ceiling, Sophie slowly turned. Crowds swirled around them.

  Most seemed to be locals, though there were plenty of tourists, many stopping

  to have their photographs taken in front of The Meeting Place or the huge

  clock. No one seemed to be paying them any particular attention.

  What can we do? Josh asked. I can boost Sophie s powers .

  No, Flamel snapped. You can only use your powers as an absolute last

  resort. As soon as you activate your aura, it will alert every Elder, Next

  Generation and immortal within a ten-mile radius, and here, just about every

  immortal you encounter is allied to the Dark Elders. Also, in this land, it

  could awaken others, creatures best left sleeping.

  But you said we re being followed, Sophie protested. That means Dee knows

  we re here.

  Flamel urged the twins to the left, away from the statue, hurrying them

  toward the exit. I would imagine there are watchers in every airport,

  seaport and railway station across Europe. Although Dee might have suspected

  that we were heading to London, the instant either of you activates your

  aura, he ll know for certain.

  And what will he do then? Josh asked, turning to look at Flamel. In the

  harsh overhead light, the new lines on the Alchemyst s forehead and around

  his eyes were clearly visible.

  Flamel shrugged. Who knows what he is capable of doing? He is desperate, and

  desperate men do terrible things. Remember, he was on top of Notre Dame. He

  now has some inkling of your powers; he s also confirmed that you are the

  twins of legend. He has to have you. The Alchemyst reached out and poked

  Josh in the chest. Paper rustled. Beneath his T-shirt, in a cloth bag hanging

  around his neck, Josh carried the two pages he d torn from the Codex. And,

  above all else, he must have these pages.

  They followed the signs for the Euston Road exit and were swept along by a

  crowd of commuters heading in the same direction. I thought you said there

  would be someone to meet us, Sophie said.

  Saint-Germain said he d try and contact an old friend, Flamel muttered.

  Maybe he couldn't get in touch.

  They stepped out of the ornate redbrick station onto Euston Road and stopped

  in surprise. When they d left Paris nearly three hours ago, the skies had

  been cloudless, the temperature already creeping into the high sixties; but

  in London it was raining hard, and the wind whipping down the road was cold

  enough to make the twins shiver. They turned and immediately ducked back into

  the shelter of the station.

  And that was when Sophie saw him.

  A boy in a green parka, with the hood pulled up, she said suddenly, turning

  to Nicholas and concentrating fiercely on his pale eyes, knowing that if she

  looked away, she would involuntarily glance at the young man who had been

  hurrying after them. She could see him from the corner of her eye. He was

  loitering close to a pillar, staring at the cell phone in his hand, fiddling

  with it. There was something wrong about the way he was standing. Something

  unnatural. And she thought she caught the faintest taint of spoiled meat in

  the air.

  The smile on the Alchemyst s face grew strained. Wearing a hood? Yes, that s

  who s been following us. The twins caught the faintest tremor in his voice.

  Except he s not a boy, is he? Sophie asked.

  Nicholas shook his head. Not even close.

  Josh took a deep breath. So should I point out that I can see two more

  people wearing green hooded parkas, and they re both heading in our

  direction?

  Three! No, not them, Flamel whispered in horror. We ve got to go.

  Grabbing the twins arms, he pulled them out into the driving rain, turned to

  the right and dragged them down the street.

  The rain was so cold it took Josh s breath away. Pellets of hard water stung

  his face. Who are they? he demanded, blinking water from his eyes, brushing

  his hair back out of his face.

  The Hooded Ones, the Alchemyst said bitterly. Dee must be desperate, and

  more powerful than I thought if he can command them. They are the Genii

  Cucullati.

  Sophie shivered as memories suddenly flickered at the edges of her

  consciousness. She felt something sour at the back of her throat, and her

  stomach twisted in disgust. The Witch of Endor had known the Genii

  Cucullati and she had loathed them. Sophie looked sidelong at her brother.

  Flesh-eaters.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  The list grows ever longer, but The Magician would not have happened without

  the support of so many people

  Krista Marino, Beverly Horowitz, Jocelyn Lange and Christine Labov at

  Delacorte Press, without whose help, patience, perseverance

  Barry Krost at BKM and Frank Weimann at the Literary Group, for continued

  support and advice

  A particular mention must go to:

  Libby Lavella, who gave Perenelle a voice

  Sarah Baczewski, who gives the best notes

  Jeromy Robert, who created the image

  Michael Carroll, who reads it first and last

  And finally there are:

  Claudette, Brooks, Robin, Mitch, Chris, Elaine, David, Judith, Trista, Cappy,

  Andrea, Ron and, of course, Ahmet, for everything else!

  Now, I know I ve forgotten someone .

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  An authority on mythology and folklore, Michael Scott is one of Ireland s

  most successful authors. A master of fantasy, science fiction, horror, and

  folklore, he has been hailed by the Irish Times as the King of Fantasy in

  these isles. He lives and writes in Dublin, where he is at work on the third

  book in The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel series The Sorceress.

  Visit him at www.dillonscott.com.

  ALSO BY MICHAEL SCOTT

  The Alchemyst

  The Magician

  Copyright 2008 by Michael Scott

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