“They’re not gone,” he said confidently.
“But Scatty…” The girl hiccupped.
“…is one of the most dangerous women in the world,” he finished. “She’s survived for over two thousand years and fought creatures infinitely more dangerous than Dagon.”
Sophie wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince himself or her. “I saw that thing drag her into the river, and we waited for at least ten minutes. She didn’t come back up. She must have drowned.” Her voice caught and she could feel the tears pricking at the back of her eyes again. Her throat felt as if it were on fire.
“I’ve seen her survive worse, much worse.” Nicholas attempted a wan smile. “I think Dagon is in for a surprise! Scatty’s like a cat: she hates getting wet. The Seine runs very fast; they were probably swept downriver. She’ll contact us.”
“But how? She’ll have no idea where we are.” Sophie really hated the way adults lied. They were just so transparent.
“Sophie,” Nicholas said seriously. “If Scathach is alive, she will find us. Trust me.”
And in that moment, Sophie realized that she did not trust the Alchemyst.
Joan put her arm on Sophie’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “Nicholas is right. Scatty is…” She smiled, and her entire face lit up. “She is extraordinary. Her aunt once abandoned her in one of the Underworld Shadowrealms: it took her centuries to find her way out. But she did it.”
Sophie nodded slowly. She knew that what they were saying was true—the Witch of Endor knew more about Scathach than either the Alchemyst or Joan—but she could also tell that they were very worried.
“Now, Sophie,” Nicholas resumed. “I need you to find your brother.”
“How?”
“I’m hearing sirens,” Joan said urgently, looking back down the alley. “Lots of sirens.”
Flamel ignored her. He stared deep into Sophie’s bright blue eyes. “You can find him,” he insisted. “You are his twin; it is a connection that goes even deeper than blood. You’ve always known when he was in trouble, haven’t you?”
Sophie nodded.
“Nicholas…,” Joan prodded, “we are running out of time.”
“You’ve always felt his pain, known when he was unhappy or upset?”
Sophie nodded again.
“You are connected to him, you can find him.” The Alchemyst turned the girl around so that she was facing down the alleyway. “Josh was standing here,” he said, pointing. “Dee and Machiavelli were standing about here.”
Sophie was confused and getting irritated. “But they’re gone now. They took him away.”
“I don’t think they forced him to go anywhere, I think he went with them of his own free will,” Nicholas said very softly.
The words hit Sophie like a blow. Josh wouldn’t leave her, would he? “But why?”
Flamel shrugged slightly. “Who knows? Dee has always been very persuasive, and Machiavelli is a master manipulator. But we can find them, I’m sure of it. Your senses have been Awakened, Sophie. Look again; imagine Josh standing in front of you, see him….”
Sophie took a deep breath and closed her eyes, then opened them again. She could see nothing out of the ordinary; she was standing in a dirty trash-strewn alley, the walls covered with curling ornate graffiti, with the smoke of the burning car whirling around her.
“His aura is gold,” Flamel continued. “Dee’s is yellow…Machiavelli’s gray or dirty white….”
Sophie started to shake her head. “I can’t see anything,” she began.
“Then let me help you.” Nicholas put his hand on her shoulder and suddenly the stink of the burning car was replaced with the fresh sharp smell of mint. Instantly, her aura flared around her body, crackling and spitting like a firework, the pure silver now tinged with the emerald green of Flamel’s aura.
And then she saw… something.
Directly in front of her she could make out the merest hint of Josh’s outline. It was ghostly and insubstantial, composed of little more than threads and sparkling dust motes of gold, and when he moved he trailed streaked lines of gossamer color in the air behind him. Now that she knew what she was looking for, she could also make out the traces of Dee’s and Machiavelli’s outlines in the air.
She blinked slowly, afraid that the images would vanish, but they remained hanging in the air before her, and if anything, the colors grew even more intense. Josh’s aura was the brightest of all. She reached out blindly, her fingers touching the golden edge of her brother’s arm. The smoky outline twisted away as if blown by a breeze.
“I see them,” she said in awe, her voice barely above a whisper. She’d never imagined she’d be able to do anything like this. “I can see their outlines.”
“Where did they go?” Nicholas asked.
Sophie followed the colored streaks in the air; they led to the end of the alley. “This way,” she said, and set off down the alleyway toward the street, with Nicholas close on her heels.
Joan of Arc took one last lingering look at her battered car and then followed.
“What are you thinking?” Flamel asked.
“I’m thinking that when this is all over, I’m going to return the car to its former pristine condition. And then never take it out of the garage again.”
“Something’s wrong,” Flamel said as they wove their way through the streets.
Sophie was concentrating fiercely on following her twin and ignored him.
“I’ve just been thinking the same thing,” Joan said. “The city is too quiet.”
“Exactly.” Flamel looked around. Where were the Parisians on their way to work and the tourists determined to get to see the sights before the city grew stifling hot and crowded? The few people on the street hurried past, talking excitedly together. The air was filled with sirens, and there were police everywhere. And then Nicholas realized that Nidhogg’s rampage through the city had probably hit the news and people were being warned to stay off the streets. He wondered what excuse the authorities would make to explain the chaos.
Sophie pushed her way blindly down the street, following the gossamer threads that Josh’s, Dee’s and Machiavelli’s auras had left in the air behind them. She kept bumping into people and apologizing, but she never took her eyes off the sparkles of light. And then she noticed that as the sun rose higher in the heavens, it was becoming harder and harder to make out the pinpoints of colored light. She realized she was running out of time.
Joan of Arc caught up with the Alchemyst. “Can she really see the afterimages left by their auras?” she asked in archaic French.
“She can,” Nicholas replied in the same language. “The girl is extraordinarily powerful: she has no idea of the extent of her powers.”
“Have you any clue where we’re going?” Joan asked, looking around. She thought they were somewhere in the vicinity of the Palais de Tokyo, but she’d been concentrating on the marks on the road left by the police car and hadn’t been paying too much attention to their whereabouts.
“None,” Nicholas said, frowning. “I’m just wondering why we seem to be heading into the back streets. I would have thought that Machiavelli would want to take the boy into custody.”
“Nicholas, they want the boy for themselves, or rather, the Elders do. What does the prophecy say? ‘The two that are one, the one that is all.’ One to save the world, one to destroy it. The boy is a prize.” Without moving her head, her eyes flickered toward Sophie. “And the girl, too.”
“I know that.”
Joan rested her hand lightly on the Alchemyst’s arm. “You know that we must never allow both of them to fall into Dee’s hands.”
Flamel’s face hardened into a mask. “I know that, too.”
“What will you do?”
“Whatever is necessary,” he said grimly.
Joan pulled out a black cell phone. “I’m calling Francis; I’ll let him know we’re OK.” She looked around for a landmark. “Maybe he’ll know where we are.”
/> Sophie turned into a narrow alleyway, barely wide enough for two people to pass side by side. In the gloom, she could see the threads and speckled light more clearly now. She even caught ghostly flashes of her brother’s outline. She felt her spirits lift; maybe they were going to catch up with him.
Then, abruptly, the auras vanished.
She stopped, confused and frightened. What had happened? Looking back down the alley, she could see the traces of their auras in the air, gold and yellow—Josh and Dee, side by side—Machiavelli’s gray following along behind. They reached the center of the alleyway and stopped, and she could distinctly see the outline of her brother’s body picked out in gold standing almost directly in front of her. Squinting, concentrating hard, she attempted to bring his aura into focus….
He was looking down, mouth open.
Sophie stepped back. Directly under her feet was a large manhole cover, with the letters IDC pressed into the metal. Tiny speckles of the three auras were streaked across the cover, outlining each letter in a different color.
“Sophie?” Nicholas began.
She felt a rush of excitement: relief that she hadn’t lost him. “They’ve gone down,” she said.
“Down?” he asked, turning a sickly pale color. His voice dropped to little more than a whisper. “Are you sure?”
“Positive,” she said, alarmed at the expression on his face. “Why, what’s wrong? What’s down there? Sewers?”
“Sewers…and worse.” The Alchemyst suddenly looked very old and tired. “Below us are the legendary Catacombs of Paris,” he whispered.
Joan crouched down and pointed to where the mud around the edge of the manhole cover was disturbed. “This was opened very recently.” She looked up, her expression grim. “You’re right; they’ve taken him down into the Empire of the Dead.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
“Oh, stop that!” Perenelle bashed the spider Elder on the top of the head with the flat side of the spear in her hand. The ancient symbol of power blazed white-hot and the spider darted back into the cell, the top of its skull sizzling, gray smoke curling upward.
“That hurt!” Areop-Enap snapped, more irritated than wounded. “You’re always hurting me. You nearly killed me the last time I saw you.”
“And let me remind you that the last time we met, your followers attempted to sacrifice me to activate an extinct volcano. Naturally, I was a little upset.”
“You brought down an entire mountain on top of me,” Areop-Enap said in a peculiar lisp caused by its overlong fangs. “You could have killed me.”
“It was only a small mountain,” Perenelle reminded the creature. She thought Areop-Enap was female but couldn’t be entirely sure. “You’ve survived worse.”
All of Areop-Enap’s eyes were on the spear in Perenelle’s hand. “Can you at least tell me where I am?”
“On Alcatraz. Or rather, below Alcatraz, an island in the San Francisco Bay on the West Coast of the Americas.”
“The New World?” Areop-Enap asked.
“Yes, the New World,” Perenelle said, smiling. The reclusive spider Elder often hibernated for centuries and missed huge chunks of human history.
“What are you doing here?” Areop-Enap asked.
“I am a prisoner—like you.” She stepped back. “If I lower the spear, are you going to do something stupid?”
“Like what?”
“Like jump at me.”
All the hairs on Areop-Enap’s legs rose and fell in unison. “Truce?” the spider Elder suggested.
Perenelle nodded. “Truce,” she agreed. “It seems we have a common enemy.”
Areop-Enap moved to the door of the cell. “Do you know how I got here?”
“I was rather hoping you would be able to tell me that,” Perenelle said.
Keeping several wary eyes on the glowing spear, the spider took a tentative step out into the corridor. “The last place I remember was Igup Island. It’s part of Polynesia,” it added.
“Micronesia,” Perenelle said. “The name changed more than one hundred and fifty years ago. Just how long have you been asleep, Old Spider?” she asked, calling the creature by its common name.
“I’m not sure…when did we last meet and have our little misunderstanding? In humani years, Sorceress,” it added.
“When Nicholas and I were on Pohnpei investigating the ruins of Nan Madol,” Perenelle said immediately. She had an almost perfect memory. “That was about two hundred years ago,” she added.
“I probably took a nap sometime about then,” Areop-Enap said, stepping out into the corridor. Behind it, the cell came alive with millions of spiders. “I remember waking from a very nice nap,” it said slowly. “I saw the Magician Dee…but he was not alone. There was someone else—something else—with him. Instructing him.”
“Who?” Perenelle asked urgently. “Try and remember, Old Spider, this is important.”
Areop-Enap closed each of its eyes as it tried to recall what had happened. “Something is preventing me,” it said, all its eyes opening simultaneously. “Something powerful. Whoever was with him was protected by an extraordinarily powerful magical shield.” Areop-Enap looked up and down the corridor. “That way?” it asked.
“This way.” Perenelle pointed with the spear. Even though Areop-Enap had called a truce, Perenelle was not prepared to stand unarmed before one of the most powerful of the Elders. “I wonder why he wanted you prisoner.” A sudden thought struck her and she stopped so quickly that Areop-Enap brushed against her, almost sending her face-first onto the muddy floor. “If you had to make a choice, Old Spider, if you had to choose between returning the Elders to this world or leaving it in the hands of the humani, who would you choose?”
“Sorceress,” Areop-Enap said, mouth gaping to reveal its terrifying teeth in what might have been a smile, “I was one of the Elders who voted that we should leave the earth to the ape-kin. I recognized that our time on this planet was over; and in our arrogance we had almost destroyed it. It was time to step back and leave it to the humani.”
“So you would not be in favor of the return of the Elders?”
“No.”
“And if there was a fight, who would you stand with—the Elders or the humani?”
“Sorceress,” Areop-Enap said very seriously, “I’ve stood with the humani before. Along with my kin, Hekate and the Witch of Endor, I helped bring civilization to this planet. Despite my appearance, my loyalties are with the humani.”
“And that’s why Dee had to capture you now. He couldn’t afford to have someone as powerful as you fight alongside humankind.”
“Then the confrontation must be very close indeed,” Areop-Enap said. “But there’s nothing Dee and the Dark Elders can do until they secure the Book of…” Areop-Enap’s voice trailed away. “They’ve got the Book?”
“Most of it,” Perenelle confirmed miserably. “And you should know the rest of it. You are familiar with the prophecy of the twins?”
“Of course. That old fool, Abraham, was always twittering on about the twins and scribbling down his indecipherable prophecies in the Codex. I never believed a word of them myself. And in all the years I knew him, he never got a single thing right.”
“Nicholas found the twins.”
“Ah.” Areop-Enap was silent for a moment, then shrugged what shoulders it had, eyes blinking in unison. “So Abraham was right about something; well, that’s a first.”
While Perenelle slogged through ankle-deep mud, recounting what she had discovered in the cells above, she noticed that despite its enormous size, the spider Elder glided over the top of the muck. Behind them, the walls and ceilings pulsed with millions of spiders as they followed the Elder. “I wonder why Dee didn’t kill you.”
“He couldn’t,” Areop-Enap said matter-of-factly. “My death would send ripples through myriad Shadowrealms. Unlike Hekate, I have friends, and too many of them would come to investigate. Dee would not want that.” Areop-Enap stopped when it came to the
first of the spears Perenelle had pushed down. A huge leg turned it over, and the spider examined the faint traces of the hieroglyph painted on the spearhead. “I’m curious,” it lisped. “These Words of Power. They were ancient when the Elders ruled the earth. And I thought we had destroyed both them and all record of them. How did the English Magician rediscover them?”
“I was wondering the same thing,” Perenelle said. She turned the spear in her hand to look at the single square hieroglyph. “Maybe he copied the spell from somewhere.”
“No,” Areop-Enap said. “The individual words are powerful, it is true, but Dee set them up in the particular pattern that kept me trapped in the cell. Every time I tried to escape, it was as if I ran into a solid wall. I’ve seen that pattern before, but it was in the days before the Fall of Danu Talis. In fact, now that I think of it, the last time I saw that pattern was before we had even created the island continent and dragged it up from the ocean floor. Someone instructed Dee; someone knew how to create these magical Wards, someone who’d seen them.”
“No one knows who Dee’s Elder is, whom he serves,” Perenelle said thoughtfully. “Nicholas spent decades vainly trying to discover who, ultimately, controls the Magician.”
“Someone old,” Areop-Enap said. “As old as me, or even older. One of the Great Elders, perhaps.” All of the spider Elder’s eyes blinked. “But it cannot be; none of them survived the Fall of Danu Talis.”
“You did.”
“I’m not one of the Great Elders,” Areop-Enap said simply.
They reached the end of the tunnel and de Ayala winked into existence directly before them. He had been a ghost for centuries and had seen wonders and monsters, but he had never seen anything like Areop-Enap, and the sight of the enormous creature shocked him speechless.
“Juan,” Perenelle said gently. “Talk to me.”
“The Crow Goddess is here,” he said finally. “She is almost directly above us, perched on top of the water tower like a huge vulture. She’s waiting for you to climb out. She had an argument with the sphinx,” the ghost added. “The sphinx said that the Elders had given you to her; the Morrigan claimed that Dee said you were hers.”