The Enchantress (The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel #6) (12 page)

A figure stepped out.

She was tall and elegant, wrapped in a full-length fur coat made from the skins of animals that had not walked the earth in eons. And she had the head of a cat. This was Bastet.

Quetzalcoatl watched the Elder stride across the parking lot toward him and felt an odd emotion, something he had not experienced in millennia: fear. His tail, which had been tucked into the back of his belt, slipped free, slithered out from beneath his coat and tapped nervously against the ground. Perhaps contacting the cat-headed goddess had been a mistake.

“It has been a long time, Quetzalcoatl,” she said, speaking in the ancient language of Danu Talis.

The Feathered Serpent lifted his fedora and bowed respectfully. “Too long.”

Bastet tilted her feline head to one side, huge yellow slit-pupiled eyes regarding him. It was impossible to read her
expression, but Quetzalcoatl got the impression she was amused.

“Thank you for coming,” he said. “I was unsure that you would….”

“Oh, we Elders have to stick together,” Bastet said in her hissing lisp. “Especially now, in these interesting times.” Boot heels clicked on the pavement as she stepped forward, towering over the shorter Elder. “I was delighted to get your call. Surprised, I’ll admit. But delighted.”

Quetzalcoatl wondered if the cat-headed Elder was being sarcastic; her coolness made it hard to tell. “I’ve been meaning to get in touch,” he murmured. “But you know how time slips away.”

“We should get together more often: we’re practically neighbors,” she purred.

He knew then that she
was
being sarcastic. She hated him for what had happened on Danu Talis ten thousand years ago.

“So, you need my help?”

“Yes, I thought you might be able to assist me,” he admitted. “We are so close now, victory is almost at hand. I do not want to leave anything to chance.”

“Very wise.” Bastet swept out her right hand, claws shredding the fog. “Is this yours? It is a nice touch.”

“Thank you. I thought you would approve.”

“The humani have always feared the nights. Especially foggy nights. Deep in their genetic memories, they must remember what it was like to be hunted.” The goddess showed her teeth in a feral grin.

Quetzalcoatl lifted his hand and pointed to the right. Through the billowing fog, the merest outline of metal was barely visible. He blinked and his pupils changed shape, and he suddenly saw the world in shades of red and black. “The Golden Gate Bridge is here.” He pointed to the left. “I’m not sure if you can see it, but over there is Alcatraz….”

“I can see it. Do you forget what I am, what I became?” she hissed bitterly.

“The Change altered all of us,” Quetzalcoatl said carefully.

“Some more than others.”

“Indeed.” The Feathered Serpent continued. “Beyond Alcatraz is Treasure Island, and just behind the island is the Bay Bridge.”

Bastet turned up the collar of her fur coat. “I did not come here for a geography lesson.”

“This fog covers everything within a hundred-mile radius. Nothing is moving on land or sea. I have ensured that there have been countless accidents. The authorities are stretched to the limit. The Golden Gate and Bay Bridges are already closed.” He consulted an overlarge watch on his wrist. “Soon a fuel tanker will cross the central divide on Dumbarton Bridge and burst into flames.”

“How do you know?” Bastet asked.

“I don’t believe in leaving anything to chance.” He checked his watch again. “In five minutes, there will be a series of accidents at the tollgates on the San Mateo Bridge, which will completely seal the bridges. And in ten minutes, the Pacific Gas and Electric Company, which supplies most of
the power to this side of the country, is going to suffer a devastating series of computer failures.” Quetzalcoatl grinned, showing his own savage teeth. “Everything will go dark.”

“Can you do that?”

“Indeed. I experimented a couple of years ago on the East Coast. The great Northeast blackout was a success.”

“This is all very impressive. So, what do you want me for?” Bastet asked.

“You know we have creatures on Alcatraz?”

“I know that.”

“And you know that Dee has betrayed us.”

“I know he was declared
utlaga
.”

“He was supposed to release the beasts from the island, but he didn’t, and now he’s vanished.”

“Don’t you have people you can use?” Bastet hissed. “I have no servants left this far north.”

“I put two of my best people on the job. Billy the Kid and Black Hawk.” He paused and coughed. “They were accompanied by the Italian immortal, Machiavelli.”

Bastet hissed. “There are certain humani we should have butchered and eaten a long time ago. The Flamels, for example, and Dee, and certainly Machiavelli. You know I love Italian food.”

Quetzalcoatl sighed. “I agree with you. Machiavelli and Billy went to the island to loose the monsters into the city.”

“And?” Bastet turned toward San Francisco and tilted her head to one side, listening. “I’m not hearing any screams.”

“They failed,” Quetzalcoatl said quietly. “I don’t know how. I did see the Lotan swim in toward the Embarcadero,
but it was slain by the Flamels. I’ve lost touch with Billy and Machiavelli, and Black Hawk has simply disappeared. I can only assume that they are all dead.” He ground his teeth in frustration. “We are so close, mistress. So very close. We have an island full of monsters less than a mile away from the city streets, and when we do manage to get one almost ashore, we are defeated by a couple of immortals.”

“How many immortals?”

“A handful. Flamel, his dangerous wife, the Japanese warrior and, unfortunately, our own Prometheus.”

Bastet wrapped her arms around her body and shivered. “I thought he never left his Shadowrealm.”

“It is no more. Faded to shadows and dust.”

“Curious. And what of the supposed twins of legend? The Flamels and Dee were convinced they had them. Again.”

Quetzalcoatl’s teeth flashed in a smile. “They have vanished from the city. I cannot sense them anywhere on the American continent.”

“That is some consolation, at least.”

“You know the Flamels must have sent for help. The longer we delay, the more time we allow for reinforcements to arrive.”

“We have our kind coming too, haven’t we?”

“Some. Even now, the monsters and the monstrous are gathering. But don’t you know that every immortal humani hero, every god of myth and legend loyal to the Flamels, or simply opposed to us, is heading this way?”

“Then let us not delay. We must get the monsters ashore and get the party under way.”

“The original plan was for Machiavelli and Billy to awaken the creatures and release them from their cells. Black Hawk was supposed to sail a modified tourist boat into the jetty, load up and bring the creatures back into the city. Then he would go back for more.”

“But now this Black Hawk has vanished.”

“Eaten by the Nereids, I fear.”

“But you have a backup plan?”

“Always.”

“I thought you might.”

“Even now, there is a modified tourist boat docked off the island. The captain is gathering the biggest, ugliest, hungriest, most terrifying monsters he can find. He will take them ashore and release them into the streets. Then he will go back for a second batch.”

“And you can trust this captain?”

“He is my brother.”

“I never knew you had a brother.”

“He left Danu Talis long before the fall. The Change was cruel to him. But when I needed someone to trust, I knew I could count on him. He was happy—even eager—to help me.” His teeth flashed in a nasty smile. “After all, if you can’t depend on your family, then who can you trust?”

“Then why do you need me?” Bastet asked, ignoring the jibe. Her son Aten had betrayed her. “I am hearing a ‘but …,’ ” she prodded.

“The Flamels and company will do all in their power to thwart us.”

“So we need to eliminate the Flamels, Prometheus and Niten?”

“Yes, and we only have a brief period of time in which to defeat them before their reinforcements arrive.”

Bastet’s gaze narrowed on the Feathered Serpent. “And you’re sure they have no other allies in the city?”

“Everyone else is on the island.” He grinned. “Hopefully, providing a tasty snack for something hideous.”

Bastet rubbed her hands together. Her nails sparked off one another. “Simple, then. We divide their forces. We send in something to engage the warriors, Prometheus and Niten. Without them, Nicholas and Perenelle are little more than immortal humans who will age with every use of power. I know their auras are waning.”

“What can we send? I have no resources left.”

“Ah, but I have.” She reached into a pocket and produced a leather bag. It rattled as she shook it. “You remember these? Drakon’s teeth?”

“The Spartoi,” he said.

Bastet nodded. “Indestructible earth warriors.”

“Perfect. Just perfect.” Quetzalcoatl checked his watch again, the luminous dial painting his face green. “In five … four … three … two … one.”

The entire city went dark.

Across the city, burglar alarms went off as their battery backups took over. In the all-enveloping fog, they sounded like mice squeaking.

“W
ho are you?” Dr. John Dee wheezed. He was aware that he was lying on the metal floor of a vimana and that its vibration trembled through his entire body. With his faded eyesight, his surroundings were a blur, and the figure sitting at the controls before him was little more than a shadow.

“I told you, I am called Marethyu.” A half circle of metal gleamed in the light before Dee’s face. “I am sometimes called the hook-handed man. Though it’s really more of a sickle than a hook.”

The Magician found he was still wrapped in the sweatshirt Josh had put over him. He pulled it closer around his shrinking frame and attempted—but failed—to straighten up. “I feel I should know you,” he whispered.

“You should. We’ve met often enough.”

“We haven’t,” Dee disagreed. “I would never have forgotten the hook.”

“I guess you wouldn’t,” Marethyu said enigmatically.

“Young man,” Dee began, at which Marethyu burst into laughter. “What is so funny?”

“It’s been a long time since anyone called me young.”

“You look young enough to me. You sound young, and you’re strong enough to carry me. I am old; almost five hundred years. How long have you lived upon the earth?” the immortal demanded.

But the hook-handed man remained silent as the vimana hummed through clear blue skies. Then, just as Dee was beginning to suspect he would get no answer, the man spoke, and his voice was unbearably sad. “Magician: I have lived upon this earth for ten thousand years. And I have spent perhaps ten times that walking the Shadowrealms. Even I do not know my true age anymore.”

“Then you are Elder?… Great Elder?… Archon? You’re not an Earthlord. Are you an Ancient, perhaps?”

“No. None of those,” Marethyu said. “I am human. A little more than a normal human, a lot less, too. But human born and bred.”

The vimana’s engine whined down and the craft dipped.

“Who is your master?”

“I have no master. I serve myself.”

“Then who made you immortal?” Dee asked, growing only more confused.

“Why, I suppose you did, in a manner of speaking, Dr. Dee,” Marethyu laughed.

“I don’t understand.”

“You will. Patience, Doctor, patience. All will be revealed in time.”

“I do not have much time left. Osiris saw to that.”

The vimana dipped lower, its engine slowing to a dull buzz.

“Where are we going?” Dee asked.

“I’m taking you to meet someone. He’s been waiting for you for a long time.”

“You knew I was coming?”

“Doctor, I have always known you were coming here. I have followed your progress from the moment of your birth.”

Dee was tired; a leaden exhaustion threatened to overwhelm him, but he knew that if he closed his eyes, he would probably never open them again. He found the strength to ask, “Why?”

“Because you had a role to play. In my long life, I have discovered that there are no coincidences. There is a pattern. The trick is to see the pattern, but that ability is a gift—a curse, perhaps—that is given to few.”

“And you can see this pattern?”

“It is my curse.”

The vimana suddenly settled on the ground. The top of the craft slid back, and Dee shivered as a wash of chill, damp air flowed over him. Even with his faded hearing, he could make out the roar of the sea, nearby breakers foaming and crashing. He saw Marethyu’s arms reach down for him and feebly brushed them away.

“Wait a minute …,” he protested.

“As you so rightly pointed out: we do not have much time.”

Dee reached up and caught Marethyu’s arm. “I cannot feel your aura.”

“I don’t have one.”

“Everyone has an aura,” Dee murmured, confusion once again coming over him.

“Everyone
living
,” the man answered.

“You are dead?”

“I am Death.”

“But you have powers?”

“Yes, vast powers.”

“Could you restore my youth?”

There was a silence, and with his short sight, Dee could just about discern Marethyu watching him. “I could,” he said eventually. “But I will not.”

Dee couldn’t understand why this man would rescue him, yet leave him to die. “Why not?”

“Call it consequences, or maybe justice. You are not a nice man, Dr. Dee, and you should pay something for your terrible crimes. What I will do however, is restore a little of your strength and allow you your dignity.” Marethyu put his hand on top of the doctor’s head and pushed.

A shock, like pins and needles, rippled through Dee. He felt heat bloom in the pit of his stomach. It flowed up, across his chest and down into his arms, while simultaneously surging through his thighs, along his calves and into his feet. He immediately felt stronger.

“And my sight,” he pleaded. “Give me back my sight and hearing.”

“Greedy, Doctor, greedy. Always and ever your failing …”