The Enchantress (The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel #6) (3 page)

The Magician sailed through the air, and by the time he hit the ground at Virginia Dare’s feet, he was an old man: a shriveled, wizened bundle of rags, face lost in wrinkles, gray hair scattered in clumps on the silken grass around him, eyes milky white behind cataracts, lips blue, teeth loose in his gums.

Sophie and Josh looked in horror at the creature who only moments before had been a vibrant human. Now he was ancient beyond belief, but still alive, still aware. Sophie turned back to stare at the man who looked like her father, who sounded like him … and realized that she did not know him at all. Her father—Richard Newman—was a loving, gentle man. He would have been incapable of such casual cruelty.

Osiris saw the look on Sophie’s face. “Judge me when you are in possession of all the facts,” he said icily.

“Sophie, something you haven’t learned yet is that there are times when pity is a weakness,” Isis said.

Sophie started to shake her head. She didn’t agree. And
although the voice was Sara Newman’s, the sentiment was not. Sophie had always known her mother to be one of the kindest and most generous of people.

“The doctor has never been worthy of pity. This is the man who killed thousands in his search for the Codex, the man whose ambition sacrificed nations. This is the man who would have slain you both without a second thought. You must remember, Sophie, that not all monsters wear bestial shapes. Don’t waste your pity on the likes of Dr. John Dee.”

Even as the woman was speaking, Sophie caught flickering hints of the Witch of Endor’s memories about the couple known as Isis and Osiris. And the Witch despised them both.

With a tremendous effort, Dee raised his left hand toward his masters. “I served you for centuries …,” he croaked. The effort exhausted him and he fell back on the grass. His wrinkled skin had tightened across his head, emphasizing the skull beneath.

Isis ignored him. She looked at Virginia Dare, who had remained unmoving throughout the brief encounter. “Immortal: the world is about to change beyond all recognition. Those who are not with us are against us. And those who stand against us will die. Where do you stand, Virginia Dare?”

The woman gracefully climbed to her feet, twirling her wooden flute lightly in her left hand, leaving a single note shimmering on the air. “The doctor promised me a world,” she said. “What do
you
offer?”

Isis moved and the sunlight blazed white off her armor. “Are you attempting to bargain with us?” The Elder’s voice began to rise. “You are in no position to negotiate!”

Dare spun the wooden flute again and the air shivered with an unearthly keening. All around them the glass flowers shattered to dust. “I am not Dee,” Virginia said icily. “I neither respect you nor like you. I am certainly not afraid of you.” She tilted her head to one side, looking from Isis to Osiris. “And you should remember what happened to the last Elder who threatened me.”

“You can have your world,” Osiris said quickly, reaching out to rest his hand on his wife’s shoulder.

“Which world?”

“Any world you wish,” he said, a broken smile fixed on his face. “We will need someone to act as a replacement for Dee.”

Virginia Dare stepped daintily over the ancient wheezing man. “I will do that. Temporarily, at least,” she added.

“Temporarily?” Osiris smiled.

“Until I get my world.”

“You will have it.”

“Then we are done and I will never see you again, nor will you ever bother me.”

“You have our word.”

Isis and Osiris turned to the twins and held out their hands again, yet neither Sophie nor Josh made any attempt to take them. “Come now,” Isis said, a touch of impatience in her voice, making her sound like the Sara Newman they knew. “We need to go. There is much to do.”

Neither twin moved.

“We need some answers,” Josh said defiantly. “You can’t just expect us to—”

“We will answer all your questions, I promise you,” Isis
interrupted. She turned away and the warmth in her voice disappeared. “We must go now.”

Virginia Dare was about to step past the twins, when she stopped and looked at Josh. “If Isis and Osiris are your parents … what does that make you?” she asked. She glanced over her shoulder at Dee, then turned away to walk toward the crystal ship.

Sophie looked at her brother. “Josh …,” she started.

“I have no idea what’s going on, Sis,” he said, answering her unspoken question.

A dry, rasping cough drew their attention back to Dee. Although the sun was blazing in the sky and the air was warm, the ancient man had curled up in a ball and was shivering violently, arms wrapped around his body for warmth. They could hear his teeth rattle in his head. Without a word, Sophie pulled off her red hooded fleece and handed it to her brother. He looked at it for a moment, then nodded and stepped forward to kneel down beside Dee. Gently he draped the fleece over the Magician, tucking it in around his shoulders. The Magician nodded his thanks, his white eyes wet with emotion, and clutched the fleece to himself tightly.

“I’m sorry,” Josh said. He knew what Dee was, knew what he was capable of, but no one deserved to die like this. He looked over his shoulder. Isis and Osiris were climbing into the vimana. “You can’t just leave him like this,” he called.

“Why? Would you rather I kill him, Josh?” Osiris asked with a laugh. “Is that what you want? Dee, is that what you want? I can kill you now.”

“No,” Josh and Dee said simultaneously.

“His four hundred and eighty years are catching up with him, that’s all. He will die of natural causes soon.”

“It’s cruel,” Sophie said.

“To be honest, considering the trouble he’s caused us over the past few days, I think I’m being rather merciful.”

Josh turned back to Dee. The old man’s withered lips moved, his breath coming in great heaving gasps. “Go.” A clawlike hand wrapped around Josh’s wrist. “And when in doubt, Josh,” he whispered, “follow your heart. Words can be false, images and sounds can be manipulated. But this …” He tapped Josh’s chest. “This is always true.” He touched the boy’s chest again, and the sound of paper crackling under his red 49ers Faithful T-shirt was clearly audible. “Oh no, no, no.” The Magician’s face fell. “Tell me that’s not the missing pages from the Codex,” he whispered, voice cracking.

Josh nodded. “It is.”

Dee erupted in what began as a laugh, but the effort sent a wracking cough through his body and he folded in on himself, struggling to catch his breath. “You had them all along,” he murmured.

Josh nodded again. “Right from the beginning.”

Shaking with silent laugher, Dee closed his eyes and lay back on the silken grass. “What an apprentice you would have made,” he breathed.

Josh watched the dying immortal until, finally, Osiris interrupted. “Josh,” he said firmly. “Leave him. We must go now—we have a world to save.”

“Which world?” Sophie and Josh asked simultaneously,

“All of them,” Isis and Osiris replied together.

T
he screams were piercing.

A flock of parrots, green-bodied and red-faced Cherry-Headed Conures, swooped low over the Embarcadero in San Francisco. They buzzed past the three men and the woman standing at the wooden rail by the water’s edge. The shrill, high-decibel shrieking echoed through the late-afternoon air. One of the men, bigger and more muscular than the others, pressed his hands to his ears.

“I hate parrots,” Prometheus grumbled. “Noisy, filthy—”

“Poor things; they’re upset.” Nicholas Flamel didn’t let the Elder finish his complaint. His nostrils flared as he breathed deeply. “They sense the auras in the air.”

Prometheus dropped a heavy hand on the Alchemyst’s shoulder. “I’ve nearly been eaten by a seven-headed sea monster. I’m a little upset myself, but you don’t hear me screaming about it.”

The third man, slender and black-suited, with delicate Japanese features, looked up into Prometheus’s broad lined face. “No, but you
will
grumble about it for the rest of the day.”

“If we survive the rest of the day,” Prometheus muttered. A parrot flew by, close enough to ruffle the Elder’s graying hair, and a spatter of sticky white appeared on the big man’s checked shirt. His face wrinkled into a grimace of disgust. “Oh, great—that’s just perfect! Could this day get any worse?”

“Will you three be quiet!” the woman snapped. She pushed a coin into the slot beneath the blue metal viewing binoculars, then tilted them toward the island of Alcatraz, which lay directly ahead of them across the bay. She turned the wheel and the buildings swam into focus.

“What do you see?” Nicholas asked.

“Patience, patience.” Perenelle shook her head. Her long hair had shaken loose from its braid, and shimmered black and silver across her back. “Nothing unusual. There’s no movement on land and I can see nothing in the water. There are no birds in the air over the island.” She stepped away from the binoculars and allowed her husband to take her place. She stood thinking for a moment and frowned. “It’s too quiet.”

“Calm before the storm,” Nicholas muttered.

Prometheus leaned his massive forearms on the wooden rail and looked across the bay. “And yet we know those cells are full of monsters, and Machiavelli and Billy along with Dee and Dare are there. Mars, Odin and Hel must be there by now….”

“Wait,” Nicholas said suddenly. “I see a boat….”

“Who’s driving?” Prometheus asked.

Nicholas turned the big metal binoculars and focused on a small craft that had appeared from behind the island, white waves foaming in its wake.

Niten climbed onto the lower rail of the wooden fence and leaned forward, hands shading his brown eyes. “I can see one person in the boat. It’s Black Hawk. He’s alone….”

“So where is everyone else?” Prometheus wondered aloud. “Is he fleeing?”

“No, this is Black Hawk….” Niten stopped the Elder before he could finish the thought. “Do not dishonor his name.” He shook his head firmly. “Ma-ka-tai-me-she-kia-kiak is one of the bravest warriors I’ve ever encountered.”

The three immortal humans and the Elder watched the boat bounce over the waves, heading toward the shore.

“Wait …,” the Alchemyst said suddenly.

“Is there something in the water?” Niten asked.

Though the binoculars, Nicholas could see a dozen seal-like heads bobbing on the surface of the waves surrounding the boat. He squinted to get a better look. Though his eyes were aging, he could clearly see that the heads belonged to green-haired young women who were beautiful until they opened their mouths to reveal piranha-like teeth.

“Seals?” Prometheus asked.

“There are Nereids in the water,” he announced. “And more are coming.”

Soon the boat was close enough that the group on the pier could all see the creatures surrounding it. They watched
in silence as one rose out of the sea and attempted to climb aboard. The stocky copper-skinned immortal nudged the boat to one side and the hull of the craft slammed into the fish-tailed creature, sending her crashing back into the water. Black Hawk turned the boat in a tight circle, almost tipping it over, bringing it around to head back into the group of Nereids, driving it directly toward them. Water foamed as they scattered.

“He’s deliberately engaging the Nereids,” Niten said. “He’s keeping them away from the island.”

“Which means Mars and the others must be in trouble,” Prometheus said. The big Elder turned to Nicholas. “We have to help them.”

Nicholas looked at Perenelle. “What do you think we should do?”

The Sorceress’s face lit up with a dangerous smile. “I think we should attack the island.”

“Just the four of us?” he asked lightly.

Perenelle leaned forward until her forehead touched her husband’s, and looked deep into his eyes. “This is the last day of our lives, Nicholas,” she said softly. “We have always lived quietly, keeping to the shadows, hoarding our energy, rarely using our auras. We don’t have to do that anymore. I think it is time we reminded these Dark Elders why they once feared us.”

T
he Rukma vimana shuddered, engine whining. The huge triangular flying ship had been damaged in the fight outside Abraham’s crystal tower. One side of the craft was peppered with scars, portholes were shattered and the door no longer sat flush in the frame. Icy air howled and shrieked through the opening. The screens and control panels along one wall were black, and most of those still working pulsed with a jagged red circular symbol.

Scathach the Shadow stood behind Prometheus. She knew him as her uncle, but he had no idea who she was. In this time stream, she had not yet been born—and would not be born until after the island fell. The Elder was struggling to control the craft. Scathach had both hands clasped behind her and refused to grip the back of the Elder’s chair. She was also desperately trying to prevent herself from throwing up. “Can I help?” she asked.

Prometheus grunted. “Have you ever flown a Rukma vimana before?”

“I’ve flown a smaller one … a long time ago,” Scathach admitted.

“How long?” Prometheus asked.

“Hard to tell, really. Ten thousand years, give or take a century or so.”

“Then you can’t help me.”

“Why, has the technology changed at all?” she asked.

William Shakespeare was sitting on the right-hand side of the craft, next to the bulky Saracen Knight, Palamedes. The English immortal looked at Scathach, his bright blue eyes huge behind his overlarge glasses. “You know, I’m a curious person,” he said. “Nosy, some would say.”

She nodded.

“Always been my biggest failing … and my greatest strength.” He smiled, revealing his bad teeth. “I find you learn so much more by asking questions.”

“Just ask the question,” Palamedes muttered.

Shakespeare ignored him. “Experience has taught me that there are some questions one should never ask.” He pointed toward the circular symbol flashing red on the few working screens. “But I really do think I want to know what that means.”

Palamedes rumbled a laugh. “I can answer that, William. I’m no expert in ancient languages, but in my experience, when something is red and blinking, that means trouble.”