The Alchemyst

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

P erenelle Flamel was moved from her tiny underground cell by four small

guards dressed entirely in black leather, their heads and faces concealed

behind motorcycle helmets. She wasn't entirely sure they were human certainly

she could detect no trace of an aura, a heartbeat or even breathing from the

figures. As they crowded around her, she caught the faintest hint of

something old and dead, like rotten eggs and overripe fruit. She thought they

might be simulacra, artificial creatures grown in vats of putrid bubbling

liquid. Perenelle knew that Dee had always been fascinated by the idea of

creating his own followers and had spent decades experimenting with Golems,

simulacra and homunculi.

Without saying a word, and with jerky gestures, the four figures ushered her

out of the cell and down a long, narrow, dimly lit corridor. Perenelle

deliberately moved slowly, giving herself time to gather her strength and

absorb impressions of the place. Jefferson Miller, the ghost of the security

guard, had told her that she was in the basement of Enoch Enterprises, west

of Telegraph Hill, close to the famous Coit Tower. She knew she was deep

underground: the walls ran with moisture, and the air was so cold that it

plumed in clouds before her face. Now that she was out of the cell and away

from its protective spells and charms, she felt a little of her strength

begin to return. Perenelle desperately tried to think of a spell she could

use on the guards, but contact with the ghost of Mr. Miller had left her

exhausted, and she had a headache pulsing at the back of her eyes that made

it hard to concentrate.

A shape suddenly flickered into existence directly ahead of her. Her breath,

a foggy white in the chilly air, had briefly formed a face.

Perenelle glanced at her guards on either side, but they hadn't reacted. She

drew in a deep lungful of breath, held it, allowing her body to warm it, and

then breathed out in a long, slow exhalation. A face formed in the white

mist: that of Jefferson Miller.

Perenelle frowned; his ghost should be long gone by now. Unless unless he had

come back to tell her something.

Nicholas!

Instantly, she knew her husband was in danger. Perenelle breathed in another

great lungful of air and held it. She concentrated hard on Nicholas, seeing

him clearly in her mind s eye, with his narrow, rather mournful-looking face,

pale eyes and closely cropped hair. She smiled, remembering him when he d

been younger and his hair, thick and dark, had been longer than hers. He d

always worn it tied back at the nape of his neck with a purple velvet ribbon.

She breathed out and the air turned into a white cloud that instantly formed

into Jefferson Miller s face again. Perenelle stared into the ghost s eyes,

and there, reflected in his pupils, she could see her husband trapped beneath

the paw of the cat-headed goddess.

Rage and terror blossomed within her, and suddenly, her headache and

exhaustion left her. Her silver-threaded black hair rose from her head as if

blown in a strong breeze, sparks of blue and white static snapping along its

length. Her ice-white aura flared around her body like a second skin. Too

late the guards realized that something was wrong. They reached for her, but

the moment their hands touched the glowing edges of her aura, they were

catapulted away as if they d received an electric shock. One guard even threw

himself onto her body, but before he could lay a finger on her, Perenelle s

aura caught him and propelled him high into the wall with enough force to

knock the motorcycle helmet off his head. The figure slid down the wall, arms

and legs twisted in awkward positions. When Perenelle looked at his face, she

realized that the creatures were indeed simulacra. This one was unfinished:

his face and head were simply smooth flesh, bald, without eyes, nose, mouth

or ears.

The woman raced down the corridor, only pausing when she came to an

oily-looking puddle on the floor. Crouching over the puddle, she concentrated

hard and touched the murky water with her index and little fingers. Her white

aura sizzled when it touched the liquid, and the water briefly smoked before

it cleared and Perenelle found she was looking at the scene she had briefly

glimpsed in the ghost s eyes. Her husband was lying under Bastet s claws.

Behind them, Scatty was struggling to hold off the attacking cats and birds,

while Josh stood with his back to a tree, awkwardly clutching a branch like a

baseball bat, striking out at anything that came too close. Sophie lay at his

feet, moving slowly, blinking in confusion.

Perenelle glanced up and down the corridor. She could hear noises in the

distance, footsteps against stone, and she knew more guards were approaching.

She could run and hide or she could fight the guards; she had a little of her

strength back. But that wasn't going to help Nicholas and the children.

Perenelle looked back into the puddle. In the distance she could see Hekate

withstanding the combined attack of the Morrigan and her birds and Bastet s

cats. Perenelle also spotted Dee moving around behind Hekate, the sword in

his hand glowing bright, poisonous blue, while behind them the Yggdrasill

burned with fierce red and green flames.

There was one other thing she could do. Something desperate and dangerous,

and if it succeeded, it would leave her utterly exhausted and completely

defenseless. Dee s creatures would simply be able to pick her up and carry

her away.

Perenelle didn't think twice.

Crouching over the puddle of dirty water, she placed her right hand, palm up,

in her left hand and concentrated fiercely. Perenelle s aura began to shift

and move, flowing down her arms like drifting smoke, gathering in the palm of

her hand, running like liquid along the creases and lines in her flesh. A

tiny speck of silver-white light appeared in the folds of skin. It solidified

into a perfect sphere and then it started to spin and grow, and now the ice

white threads of her aura flowed more swiftly down her arms. Within a

heartbeat the sphere was the size of an egg, and then Perenelle suddenly

reversed her palm and thrust the ball of pure auric energy into the water.

She uttered three words.

Sophie. Wake up!