The Magician (The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel #2) (35 page)

“Josh!”

Someone called his name, but the terrifying flames were roaring right in front of his face.

The proximity of the fire roused the monster. It took a shuddering step, the movement of its leg thrusting Josh forward onto his hands and knees, pitching him dangerously close to the flames which died as abruptly as they had risen. He hit the ground hard, hands and knees stinging with the contact. The smell of rotten eggs was appalling and his eyes and nose were streaming, but through his tears, he saw Clarent and attempted to reach for it just as someone shouted at him again.

“Josh!”

The Disir threw herself at Josh once more, sword thrusting at him. A solid spear of yellow flame struck the woman, exploding over her chain mail, which immediately started to rust and fall away. And then another wall of flame roared into existence between the boy and the warrior.

“Josh.” A hand fell on Josh’s shoulder and he jumped, shouting aloud with fright and the pain in his bruised shoulder. He looked up to find Dr. John Dee leaning over him.

Dirty yellow smoke dribbled from the Magician’s hands, which were barely covered in torn gray gloves, and his once-elegant suit was now a ruined mess. Dee smiled kindly. “It would be best if we left right now.” He gestured toward the flames. “I can’t keep this up forever.” Even as he was speaking, the Disir’s blade cut blindly through the fire, flames curling around the metal as it sought a target. Dee hauled Josh to his feet and dragged him backward.

“Wait”, Josh said hoarsely, voice raw with a combination of fear and the smoke. “Scatty” He coughed and tried again. “Scatty is trapped”.

“Escaped”, Dee said quickly, putting an arm around the boy’s shoulder, supporting him, leading him toward a police car.

“Escaped?” Josh mumbled, confused.

“Nidhogg lost its grip on her when I created the curtain of fire between you and the Disir. I saw her roll away from its claws, jump to her feet and race down the quay.”

“She ran she ran away? That didn’t sound right.” She’d been limp and unconscious the last time he’d seen her. He tried to concentrate, but his head was throbbing, and the flesh on his face felt tight from the flames.

“Even the legendary Warrior could not stand against Nidhogg. Heroes survive to fight again because they know when to run.”

“She left me?”

“I doubt she even knew you were there”, Dee said quickly, bundling Josh into the back of a badly parked police car and sliding in beside him. He tapped the white-haired driver on the shoulder. “Let’s go.”

Josh sat up straight. “Wait I dropped Clarent”, he said.

“Trust me”, Dee said, “you don’t want to return for it.” He leaned back so that Josh could look out the window. The Disir, her once-pristine white chain mail now hanging in tattered and rotting shreds about her, strode through the dying yellow flames. She spotted the boy in the back of the car and raced toward it, shouting unintelligibly in a language that sounded like wolves howling.

“Niccol”, Dee said quickly. “She’s rather upset. We really should be going now, right now.”

Josh looked away from the approaching Disir at the driver and was horrified to discover that it was the same man he’d seen on Sacr -Coeur s steps.

Machiavelli turned the key in the ignition so savagely that the starter screeched. The car lurched, jerked forward, then died.

“Oh great”, Dee muttered. “That’s just great.” Josh watched as the Magician leaned out the window, brought his hand to his mouth and blew sharply into it. A yellow sphere of smoke rolled from his palm and dropped onto the ground. It bounced twice like a rubber ball, then exploded at head height just as it reached the Disir. Thick, sticky strands the color and consistency of dirty honey splashed over the Disir, then dripped down in long streamers, gluing her to the ground. “That should hold her”, Dee began. The Disir’s broadsword sliced easily through the strands. “Or maybe not.”

Through his pain, Josh realized that Machiavelli had tried and failed to get the car started again. “Let me”, he muttered, scrambling over the back of the seat as Machiavelli slid over to the passenger side. His right shoulder was still aching, but at least feeling had returned to his fingers, and he didn’t think anything was broken. He was going to have a massive bruise to add to his growing collection. Turning the key in the ignition, he floored the accelerator and simultaneously slammed the car into reverse just as the Disir reached it. He was suddenly thankful that he’d learned to drive a stick shift on his father’s old battered Volvo. The warrior’s flailing sword struck the door, puncturing the metal, the tip of the blade inches from Josh’s leg. As the car screeched backward, the Disir set her feet firmly and held on to her sword with both hands. The blade tore a horizontal rip right across the door and into the wing over the engine, peeling back the metal as if it were paper. It also tore apart the front driver s-side tire, which exploded with a dull bang.

“Keep going!” Dee shouted.

“I’m not stopping”, Josh promised.

With the engine whining in protest and the front tire flapping and banging off the ground, Josh tore away from the quayside…

...just as Joan wheeled the slightly scratched Citroen in at the other end.

Joan hit the brakes and the car screeched to a halt on the morning-wet stones. Sophie, Nicholas and Joan watched in confusion as Josh reversed a battered police car at high speed away from Nidhogg and the Disir. They could clearly see Dee and Machiavelli in the car as he executed a clumsy handbrake turn and sped from the parking lot.

For a single heartbeat, the Disir stood on the quayside, looking lost and bewildered. Then she spotted the newcomers. Turning, she raced toward them, sword held high over her head, screeching a barbaric war cry.

“I’ll
take care of this”, Joan said, sounding almost pleased at the prospect. She touched Flamel’s sleeve and nodded to where the Warrior was still wrapped in Nidhogg’s claws. “Get Scathach.” The monster was now less than six feet from the edge of the quay and edging ever closer to the safety of the water.

The tiny Frenchwoman grabbed her sword and leapt out of the car.

“More humani with swords”, the Disir spat, blade falling toward the woman.

“Not just any humani”, Joan said, easily turning the weapon aside, her own sword then flicking out to clink against the remains of the rusted mail on the Disir’s shoulders. “I am Joan of Arc!” The long sword in her hands twirled and twisted, creating a spinning wheel of steel that drove the Disir back with the ferocity of its attack. “I am the Maid of Orleans.”

Sophie and Nicholas moved cautiously toward Nidhogg. Sophie noted that its entire tail was coated with heavy black stone, which had now started to creep up its back and down its hind legs. The weight of the stone tail anchored the creature to the ground, and Sophie saw its huge muscles bunching and rippling as it tugged itself toward the water. She could see where its claws and dragging tail left deep indentations in the pavement.

“Sophie”, Flamel shouted, “I need some help!”

“But Josh”, she began, distracted.

“Josh is gone”, he snapped. He swooped in to snatch Clarent off the ground, hissing in surprise at the heat of the weapon. Darting forward, he slapped at Nidhogg with the sword. The blade bounced harmlessly off the stone-sheathed skin. “Sophie, help me free Scatty and then we’ll go after Josh. Use your powers.”

The Alchemyst hacked at Nidhogg again but without any effect. His worst fears had been realized: Dee had gotten his hands on Josh and Josh had the last two pages from the Codex. Nicholas looked over his shoulder. Sophie was standing still, looking frightened and completely bemused.

“Sophie! Help me.”

Sophie obediently raised her hands, pressed her thumb against her tattoo and tried to call on her Fire magic. Nothing happened. She couldn’t concentrate; she was too worried about her brother. What was he doing? Why had he gone with Dee and Machiavelli? It didn’t look as though they had forced him to he’d been driving them!

“Sophie!” Nicholas called.

But she knew he’d been in danger real and terrible danger. She’d felt the emotion deep within her, recognized it for what it was. Whenever Josh was in trouble, she knew. When he’d nearly drowned off
Pakala
Beach
on Kauai, she’d woken up breathless and gasping; when he’d broken his ribs on the football field in Pittsburgh, she’d distinctly felt the sharp pain in her left side, felt the sting with every breath she took.

“Sophie!”

What had happened? One moment he was in mortal danger and the next ?

“Sophie!” Flamel snarled.

“What?” she snapped, turning on the Alchemyst. She felt a quick surge of anger; Josh was right he’d been right all along. This was the Alchemyst’s fault.

“Sophie”, he said more gently. “I need you to help me. I can’t do this on my own.”

Sophie turned to look at the Alchemyst. He was crouched on the ground, cool green vapor puddling around him. A thick emerald cord of smoke wrapped around one of Nidhogg’s huge legs and disappeared deep into the earth, where it looked as if Flamel had attempted to trap it. Another rope of smoke, thinner, less substantial than the first, was loosely wrapped around one of the creature’s hind legs. Nidhogg inched forward and the green cord snapped and dissolved into the air. Another few steps and it would carry Scathach her friend into the river. Sophie wasn’t going to let that happen.

Her fear and anger lent her focus. When she pressed her tattoo, flames popped alight on each finger. She splashed silver fire across Nidhogg’s back, but it had no effect. Then she peppered the monster with tiny fiery hailstones, but it didn’t even seem to notice. It continued to edge nearer to the water.

Fire didn’t work, so she tried wind. But the miniature tornados she threw bounced harmlessly off the creature. Scouring the Witch’s memories, she tried a trick Hekate had used against the Mongol Horde. She whipped up a sharp wind that drove stinging grit and dirt into Nidhogg’s eyes. The creature merely blinked and a second, protective eyelid slid down over its huge eye.

“Nothing’s working!” she screamed as the monster dragged Scatty ever closer to the edge. “Nothing s working!”

The Disir’s sword slashed out. Joan ducked, and the heavy blade whistled over her head and sliced into the Citroen, turning the windshield into white powder, popping off the tiny windshield wipers.

Joan was furious; she loved her 2CV Charleston. Francis had wanted to buy her a new car for her birthday, in January. He’d given her a pile of glossy car catalogs and told her to pick one. She’d pushed the catalogs aside and told him she’d always wanted the little classic French car. He’d searched all over Europe for the perfect model and then spent a small fortune having it restored to its original pristine condition. When he’d presented it to her, it had been wrapped in three thick ribbons of blue, white and red.

Another wide slash from the Disir scored a rent on the hood of the car, and then another cut off the small round headlight that perched over the right front wheel arch like an eye. The light bounced away and shattered.

“Do you know”, Joan asked, her huge eyes dark with fury, renewing her attack on the Disir, every word matched by a hammer blow from her sword, “how difficult it is to find original parts for this car?”

The Disir fell back, desperately trying to defend herself from Joan’s whirling blade, pieces of her rotting chain mail flying away as the small Frenchwoman’s sword struck closer and closer. She kept trying different fighting styles to defend herself, but nothing was effective against the ferocious onslaught.

“You will notice, Joan continued, pushing the warrior back toward the river, “that I have no fighting style. That is because I was trained by the greatest warrior of all. I was trained by Scathach the Shadow.”

“You may defeat me”, the Disir said grimly, “but my sisters will avenge my death.”

“Your sisters”, Joan said, with a final savage cut that snapped the Disir’s blade in two. “Would they be the two Valkyries currently frozen into their own personal iceberg?”

The Disir faltered, swaying on the edge of the wall along the river. “Impossible. We are undefeatable.”

“Everyone can be defeated.” The flat of Joan’s blade clanged against the Disir’s helmet, stunning her. Then Joan darted forward, her shoulder catching the swaying Disir in the chest, knocking her backward into the Seine. “Only ideas are immortal”, she whispered.