The Alchemyst

CHAPTER TWENTY

E ven for Bel Air, the area of L.A. renowned for its extravagant properties,

the house was extraordinary. Vast and sprawling, built entirely of white

travertine marble, and accessible only by a private road, it occupied a

sixty-acre estate surrounded by a twelve-foot wall topped by an electric

fence. Dr. John Dee had to wait for ten minutes outside the closed gates

while an armed security guard checked his identity and another guard examined

every inch of the car, even scanned beneath it with a small camera. Dee was

glad he d chosen a commercial limousine service, with a human driver; he

wasn't sure what the guards would have made of a mud Golem.

Dee had flown in from San Francisco late in the afternoon on his private jet.

The limousine, booked by his office, had picked him up from Burbank now

renamed Bob Hope Airport, he noted and driven him down to Sunset Boulevard

through some of the most appalling traffic he had encountered since he d

lived in Victorian London.

For the first time in his very long life, Dee felt as if events were slipping

out of his control. They were moving too quickly, and in his experience, that

was when accidents happened. He was being rushed by people well, not people,

exactly, more beings too eager for results. They had made him move against

Flamel today, even though he d told them he needed another few days of

preparation. And he d been right. Twenty-four more hours of planning and

surveillance would have enabled him to snatch Nicholas as well as Perenelle,

and the entire Codex. Dee had warned his employers that Nicholas Flamel could

be tricky indeed, but they hadn't listened to him. Dee knew Flamel better

than anyone. Over the centuries he had come close to catching him very

close but on every occasion, Flamel and Perenelle had managed to slip away.

Sitting back in the air-conditioned car while the guards continued their

inspections, he recalled the first time he had met the famous Alchemyst,

Nicholas Flamel.

John Dee was born in 1527. His was the world of Queen Elizabeth I, and he had

served the Queen in many capacities: as an advisor and a translator, a

mathematician and an astronomer, and a personal astrologer. It had been left

to him to choose the date of her coronation, and he had picked noon on

January 15, 1559. He promised the young princess that hers would be a long

reign. It lasted for forty-five years.

Dr. John Dee was also the Queen s spy.

Dee spied for the English Queen across Europe and was her most influential

and powerful agent operating on the Continent. As a renowned scholar and

scientist, magician and alchemist, he was welcomed at the courts of kings and

the palaces of nobles. He professed to speak only English, Latin and

Greek though in actuality, he spoke a dozen languages well, and understood at

least a dozen more, even Arabic and a smattering of the language of Cathay.

He learned early on that people were often indiscreet when they didn't know

that he understood their every word, and he used that to his fullest

advantage. Dee signed his confidential and coded reports with the numbers

007. He thought it wonderfully ironic that hundreds of years later when Ian

Fleming created James Bond, he gave Bond the same code name.

John Dee was one of the most powerful magicians of his age. He had mastered

necromancy and sorcery, astrology and mathematics, divination and scrying.

His journeys across Europe brought him into contact with all the great

magicians and sorcerers of that time including the legendary Nicholas Flamel,

the man known as the Alchemyst.

Dee discovered the existence of Nicholas Flamel who had supposedly died in

1418 entirely by accident. That encounter was to shape the rest of his life

and, in so many ways, influence the history of the world.

Nicholas and Perenelle had returned to Paris in the first decade of the

sixteenth century, and were working as physicians, tending to the poor and

sick in the very hospitals the Flamels had founded more than a hundred years

earlier. They were living and working virtually in the shadow of the great

Cathedral of Notre Dame. Dee was in Paris on a secret mission for the Queen,

but the moment he saw the slender dark-haired man and his green-eyed wife

working together in the high-ceiling wards of the hospital, he knew who they

were. Dee was one of the few people in the world who had a copy of Flamel's

masterwork, The Summary of Philosophy, which included an engraving of the

famous Alchemyst opposite the title page. When Dee had introduced himself to

the doctor and his wife, calling them by their true names, neither had denied

it. Of course, they also knew of the famous Dr. John Dee by reputation.

Although Perenelle had had some reservations, Nicholas had been delighted

with the opportunity to take on the English magician as a new apprentice. Dee

had immediately left England and spent the next four years training with

Nicholas and Perenelle in Paris.

And it was in Paris, in the year 1575, that he had first learned of the

existence of the Elder Race.

He had been studying late at night in his tiny attic room in Flamel's house

when a creature out of a nightmare had slithered down the chimney, scattering

coal and wood as it crawled out onto the scorched mat. The creature was a

gargoyle, one of the ancient breed of ghouls that infested the sewers and

graveyards of most European cities. Similar to the crude shapes carved in

stone that decorated the cathedral almost directly opposite the house, this

was a living creature of veined, marble-like flesh and cinder black eyes.

Speaking in an archaic form of Greek, the gargoyle invited him to a meeting

on the roof of the Cathedral of Notre Dame. Recognizing that this invitation

was not one he could refuse, Dee followed the creature into the night. Loping

along, sometimes on two legs, often on four, the gargoyle led him through

increasingly narrow alleys, then down into the sewers, and eventually into a

secret passageway that took him deep within the great cathedral s walls. He

followed the gargoyle up the thousand and one steps carved into the interior

of the wall that finally led onto the roof of the Gothic cathedral.

Wait, it had commanded, and then said no more. Its mission accomplished,

the gargoyle ignored Dee and settled down on the parapet, hunched forward,

wings folded over its shoulders, tail curled tightly against its back, tiny

horns visible as they jutted from its forehead. It peered over the square far

below, tracking the movements of the late-night stragglers or those who had

no homes to go to, looking for a suitable meal. If anyone had chanced to

glance up, the gargoyle would have been indistinguishable from any of the

countless stone carvings on the building.

Dee had walked to the edge of the roof and looked across the city. All of

nighttime Paris was laid out below him, thousands of winking lights from

cooking fires, oil lamps and candles, the smoke rising straight up into the

still air, the countless dots of light split by the black curve of the Seine.

From this height, Dee could hear the buzz of the city a low drone, like a

beehive settling down for the night and smell the noxious stench that hung

over the streets a combination of sewers, rotting fruit and spoiled meat,

human and animal sweat and the stink of the river itself.

Perched over the cathedral s famous rose window, Dee waited. The study of

magic had taught him many things especially the value of patience. The

scholar in him enjoyed the experience of standing on the roof of the tallest

building in Paris, and he wished he d brought his sketch pad with him. He

contented himself with looking around, committing everything he saw to his

incredible memory. He recalled a recent visit to Florence. He had gone there

to examine the diaries of Leonardo da Vinci. They were written in a strange

cipher which no one had been able to break: it had taken him less than an

hour to crack the code no one had realized that Leonardo had written his

diaries not only in code, but in mirror image. The diaries were full of many

amazing drawings for proposed inventions: guns that fired many times, an

armored coach that moved without the need of horses, and a craft that could

sail beneath the sea. There was one, however, that particularly interested

Dee: a harness that da Vinci claimed would allow a man to take to the air and

fly like a bird. Dee had not been entirely convinced that the design would

work, though he wanted nothing more in the world than to fly. Looking out

over Paris now, he began to imagine what it would be like to strap da Vinci s

wings to his arms and sail out over the roofs.

His thoughts were interrupted as a flicker of movement caught his attention.

He turned to the north, where a shape was moving in the night sky, a black

shadow trailing scores of smaller dots. The smaller shapes looked as if they

could be birds except that he knew that birds rarely fly at night. Dee knew

immediately and without question that this was what he had been brought up

here to meet. He concentrated on the larger shape as it came closer, trying

to make sense of what he was seeing, but it was only when the figure dropped

onto the roof that he realized he was looking at an ashen-faced woman dressed

entirely in black, wearing a long cloak of crow s wings.

That night, Dr. John Dee first met the Morrigan. That night, he learned of

the Elder Race and how they had been forced from the world of men by the

magic in the Book of Abraham the Mage, a book that was currently in the

possession of Nicholas Flamel. That night, Dee learned that there were those

among the Elders who wanted to return to their rightful place as the rulers

of mankind. And that night, the Crow Goddess promised Dee that he would one

day control the entire world, he would be master of an empire that stretched

from pole to pole, from sunrise to sunset. All he had to do was to steal the

Book from Flamel and hand it over.

That night, Dr. John Dee became the champion of the Dark Elders.

It was a mission that had taken him across the world, and into the many

Shadowrealms that bordered it. He had fought ghosts and ghouls, creatures

that had no right to exist outside of nightmares, others that were left over

from a time predating the arrival of the humani. He had gone to battle at the

head of an army of monsters and had spent at least a decade wandering lost in

an icy Otherworld. Many times, he had been concerned for his safety, but he

had never been truly frightened until this moment, sitting before the

entrance to a Bel Air estate in twenty-first-century Los Angeles. In those

early days he had not been fully aware of the powers of the creatures he

served, but nearly four and a half centuries in their service had taught him

many things including the fact that death was probably the least of all the

punishments they could inflict on him.

The armed security guard stepped back and the high metal gates clicked open,

allowing Dee s car to sweep in on the long white stone driveway toward the

sprawling marble mansion that was just visible through the trees. Although

night had fallen, no lights were showing in the house, and for a moment Dee

imagined that no one was at home. Then he remembered that the person the

creature he had come to meet preferred the hours of darkness and had no need

of lights.

The car turned into the circular drive in front of the main entrance, where

the headlights picked up a trio of people standing on the bottom step. When

the car finally crunched to a halt on the white gravel, a figure stepped up

to the door and pulled it open. It was impossible to make out any details in

the gloom, but the voice that came out of the darkness was male, and spoke to

him in heavily accented English. Dr. Dee, I presume. I am Senuhet. Please,

come in. we've been expecting you. Then the figure turned away and strode up

the steps.

Dee climbed out of the car, brushed off his expensive suit and, conscious

that his heart was fluttering, followed Senuhet into the mansion. The other

two figures fell into step on either side of him. Although no one said

anything, Dee knew they were guards. And he wasn't entirely sure they were

human.

The magician recognized the heavy, cloying scent as soon as he stepped into

the house: it was frankincense, the rare and incredibly expensive aromatic

gum from the Middle East, used in ancient times in Egypt and Greece and as

far to the east as China. Dee felt his eyes water and his nose twitch. Those

of the Elder Race were particularly fond of frankincense, but it gave him a

headache.

As the three shadowy figures led Dee into the great hallway, he caught a

glimpse of Senuhet: a small, slender man, bald and olive skinned. He looked

as if he was of Middle Eastern origin, from Egypt or Yemen. Senuhet pushed

closed the heavy front door, spoke two words Stay here and then disappeared

into the darkness, leaving Dee in the company of the two silent guards.

Dee looked around. Even in the shadowy half-light, he could see that the

hallway was bare. There was no furniture on the tiled floor, there were no

pictures or mirrors on the walls, no curtains on the windows. He knew that

there were houses like this scattered across the world, homes to those few

Dark Elders who liked to walk in the world of men, usually creating mischief.

Though they were extraordinarily skilled and dangerous, their powers were

extremely limited because of the proliferation of iron in the modern world,

which served to dull their magical energies. In the way that lead was

poisonous to humans, iron, the metal of mankind, was deadly to the Elder

Race. Dee knew, even without looking, that there would not be a scrap of that

particular metal in this house. Everything would be made of gold or silver,

even down to the door handles and the taps in the bathrooms.

The Dark Elders valued their privacy; their preference was for quiet,

out-of-the-way places small islands, patches of desert, countries like

Switzerland, portions of the former Soviet Union, the arctic reaches of

Canada, Himalayan temples and the Brazilian jungle. When they chose to live

in cities like this one, their houses were secured behind walls and wire, the

grounds patrolled by armed guards and dogs. And if anyone was lucky or

foolish enough to actually reach the house, they would encounter older,

darker and more lethal guards.

This way.

Dee was pleased that he d managed to control his fright at the sound of

Senuhet s voice; he hadn't heard the man return. Would they go up or down? he

wondered. In his experience those of the Elder Race fell into two neat

categories: those who preferred to sleep on roofs and those who preferred

basements. The Morrigan was a creature of attics and roofs.

Senuhet stepped into a puddle of light and Dee noted now that his eyes were

painted with black kohl, the top lid completely blackened, two horizontal

lines running from the corners of his eyes to his ears. Three vertical white

lines were painted on his chin, beneath his lips. He led Dee to a concealed

door directly under the broad staircase and opened it with a password in the

language that the boy king Tutankhamen would have spoken. Dee followed the

figure into a pitch-black corridor and stopped when the door clicked shut

behind them. He heard the man moving ahead of him, then his footsteps

clicking on stairs.

Down. Dee should have guessed that the Dark Elder the Morrigan had sent him

to see would be a creature of basements and tunnels. I'll need light, he

said aloud. I don't want to fall down the stairs in the dark and break my

neck. His voiced echoed slightly in the confined space.

There is no electricity in this house, Dr. John Dee. But we have heard that

you are a magician of note. If you wish to create light, then you are

permitted to do so.

Without a word, Dee stretched out his hand. A blue spark snapped to life in

his palm. It buzzed and hissed, spinning about, then it started to grow, from

the size of a pea to that of a grape. It gave off a cold blue-white light.

Holding his hand out in front of him, Dee started down the stairs.

He began to count the steps as he descended, but quickly gave up, distracted

by the decorations on the walls, the ceiling and even the floor. It was like

stepping into an Egyptian tomb, but, unlike any of the countless tombs he had

seen, where the artwork was faded, chipped and broken and everything was

coated in a fine layer of gritty sand, here the decorations were pristine,

brilliant and complete. The colors, slightly distorted by the blue light he

was carrying, looked as if they had just been laid down, the pictographs and

hieroglyphs were vivid and crisp, the names of gods picked out in thick gold

leaf.

A sudden updraft caused the blue-white ball of light to flicker and dance in

his hand, sending the shadows leaping and darting. Dee s nostrils flared: the

wind carried the stench of something old old and long dead.

The stairs ended in a wide, vaulted cellar. Dee felt something crunch and

snap beneath his feet with his first step. He lowered his hand and the

blue-white light shone across the floor which was covered with countless tiny

white bones, blanketing the ground in an ivory carpet. It took Dee a long

moment before he recognized the bones as those of rats and mice. Some of them

were so old that they crumbled into white powder when he disturbed them, but

others were much newer. Unwilling to ask a question to which he really did

not want an answer, Dee followed his silent guide, bones crunching and

crackling with every step. He lifted his hand high, shedding light across the

chamber. Unlike the stairwell, however, this room was unadorned, the walls

streaked black with moisture, green mold gathering close to the floor,

sprouting fungi dappling the ceiling.

Looks like you have a problem with damp, Dee said unnecessarily, simply to

break the growing silence.

It is of no matter, Senuhet said quietly.

Have you been here long? Dee wondered, glancing around.

In this place? The other man paused, considering. Less than a hundred

years. No time at all, really.

A shape moved in the shadows. And we will not be here much longer. That is

why you are here, isn t it, Dr. Dee? The voice was a cross between a sultry

growl and a purr, shaping the English words with difficulty. Almost against

his will, Dee raised his hand, allowing the light in his palm to illuminate

the tall, slender figure that moved in the gloom. The light moved over bare

feet, toenails black and pointed like claws, then up a heavy white kiltlike

skirt studded with stones and precious jewels, and a chest crisscrossed with

wide straps etched with Egyptian characters and finally reached the head.

Although he knew what he was going to see, Dee couldn t prevent the gasp of

shock from escaping his lips as he looked at Bastet. The body was that of a

woman, but the head that brushed the arched ceiling belonged to a cat, sleek

and furred, with huge yellow slit-pupiled eyes, a long pointed snout and high

triangular ears. The mouth opened and Dee s cold light ran across gleaming

yellow teeth. This was the creature that had been worshipped for generations

throughout the land of Egypt.

Dee licked dry lips as he bowed deeply. Your niece, the Morrigan, sends her

regards and has asked me to relay the message that it is time to take your

revenge on the three-faced one.

Bastet surged forward and wrapped razor-tipped claws in the folds of Dee s

expensive suit coat, punching holes in the silk. Precisely tell me precisely

what my niece said, she demanded.

I ve told you, Dee said, looking up into the terrifying face. Bastet s

breath smelled of rotten meat. He tossed the blue-white ball of light into

the air, where it hung, suspended and whirling, then he carefully removed

Bastet s claws from his jacket. The coat was a shredded ruin.

The Morrigan wants you to join her in an attack on Hekate's Shadowrealm,

Dee said simply.

Then it is time, Bastet announced triumphantly.

The ancient magician nodded, shadows racing and dancing on the walls with the

movement. It is time, he agreed, time for the Elder Race to return and

reclaim this earth.

Bastet howled, the sound high-pitched and terrifying, and then the darkness

behind her boiled and shifted as thousands of cats of every breed, of all

shapes and sizes, poured into the cellar and gathered around her in an

ever-widening circle. It is time to hunt, she announced, time to feed.

The cats threw back their heads and mewled and howled. Dee found the din

utterly terrifying: it sounded like countless lost babies crying.