The Magician

CHAPTER TWO

J osh Newman reached out and pressed the palm of his right hand against the

cold stone wall to steady himself.

What had just happened?

One moment he d been standing in the Witch of Endor s shop in Ojai,

California. His sister, Sophie, Scathach and the man he now knew to be

Nicholas Flamel had been in the mirror looking out at him. And the next thing

he knew, Sophie had stepped out of the glass, taken his hand and pulled him

through it. He d squeezed his eyes shut and felt something icy touch his skin

and raise the small hairs on the back of his neck. When he d opened his eyes

again, he was standing in what looked like a tiny storage room. Pots of

paint, stacked ladders, broken pieces of pottery and bundled paint-spattered

cloths were piled around a large, rather ordinary-looking grimy mirror fixed

to the stone wall. A single low-wattage lightbulb shed a dim yellow glow over

the room. What happened? he asked, his voice cracking. He swallowed hard

and tried again. What happened? Where are we?

We re in Paris, Nicholas Flamel said delightedly, rubbing his dusty hands

against his black jeans. The city of my birth.

Paris? Josh whispered. He was going to say Impossible, but he was

beginning to understand that that word had no meaning anymore. How? he

asked aloud. Sophie? He looked to his twin sister, but she had pressed her

ear against the room's only door and was listening intently. She waved him

away. He turned to Scathach, but the red-haired warrior just shook her head,

both hands covering her mouth. She looked as if she was about to throw up.

Josh finally turned to the legendary Alchemyst, Nicholas Flamel. How did we

get here? he asked.

This planet is crisscrossed with invisible lines of power sometimes called

ley lines or cursus, Flamel explained. He crossed his index fingers. Where

two or more lines intersect a gateway exists. Gates are incredibly rare now,

but in ancient times the Elder Race used them to travel from one side of the

world to the other in an instant just as we did. The Witch opened the leygate

in Ojai and we ended up here, in Paris. He made it sound so matter-of-fact.

Leygates: I hate them, Scatty mumbled. In the gloomy light, her pale,

freckled skin looked green. You ever been seasick? she asked.

Josh shook his head. Never.

Sophie looked up from her spot leaning against the door. Liar! He gets

seasick in a swimming pool. She grinned, then pressed the side of her face

back against the cool wood.

Seasick, Scatty mumbled. That s exactly what it feels like. Only worse.

Sophie turned her head again to look at the Alchemyst. Do you have any idea

where we are in Paris?

Someplace old, I m guessing, Flamel said, joining her at the door. He put

the side of his head back against the door and listened.

Sophie stepped back. I m not so sure, she said hesitantly.

Why not? Josh asked. He glanced around the small untidy room. It certainly

looked as though it was part of an old building.

Sophie shook her head. I don't know it just doesn t feel that old. She

reached out and touched the wall with the palm of her hand, then immediately

jerked it back again.

What s wrong? Josh whispered.

Sophie placed her hand against the wall again. I can hear voices, songs and

what sounds like organ music.

Josh shrugged. I can t hear anything. He stopped, abruptly conscious of the

huge difference between himself and his twin. Sophie s magical potential had

been Awakened by Hekate, and she was now hypersensitive to sights and sounds,

smells, touch and taste.

I can. Sophie lifted her hand from the stone wall and the sounds in her

head faded.

You re hearing ghost sounds, Flamel explained. They re just noises

absorbed by the building, recorded into the very structure itself.

This is a church, Sophie said decisively, then frowned. It s a new

church modern, late nineteenth century, early twentieth. But it s built on a

much, much older site.

Flamel paused at the wooden door and looked over his shoulder. In the dim

overhead light, his features were suddenly sharp and angular, disturbingly

skull-like, his eyes completely in shadow. There are many churches in

Paris, he said, though there is only one, I believe, which matches that

description. He reached for the door handle.

Hang on a second, Josh said quickly. don't you think there ll be some sort

of alarm?

Oh, I doubt it, Nicholas said confidently. Who would put an alarm on a

storeroom in a church? he asked, jerking the door open.

Immediately an alarm pealed through the air, the sound echoing and reechoing

off the flagstones and walls. Red security lights strobed and flashed.

Scatty sighed and muttered something in an ancient Celtic language. Didn't

you tell me once to wait before moving, to look before stepping and to

observe everything? she demanded.

Nicholas shook his head and sighed at the stupid mistake. Getting old, I

guess, he said in the same language. But there was no time for apologies.

Let's go! he shouted over the shrieking alarm, and darted down the

corridor. Sophie and Josh followed close behind, while Scatty took up the

rear, moving slowly and grumbling with every step.

The door opened onto a short narrow stone corridor that led to another wooden

door. Without pausing, Flamel pushed through the second door and immediately

a new alarm began to shriek. He turned left into a huge open space that

smelled of old incense, floor polish and wax. Banks of lit candles shed a

golden yellow light over walls and floor and, combined with the security

lights, revealed a pair of enormous doors with the word EXIT above them.

Flamel raced toward it, his footsteps echoing.

don't touch Josh began, but Nicholas Flamel grasped the door handles and

pulled hard.

A third alarm much louder than the others went off, and a red light above the

door began to wink on and off.

Told you not to touch, Josh muttered.

I can t understand it why is it not open? Flamel asked, shouting to be

heard above the din. This church is always open. He turned and looked

around. Where is everyone? What time is it? he asked, as a thought struck

him.

How long does it take to travel from one place to another through the

leygate? Sophie asked.

It' s instantaneous.

And you re sure we re in Paris, France?

Positive.

Sophie looked at her watch and did a quick calculation. Paris is nine hours

ahead of Ojai? she asked.

Flamel nodded, suddenly understanding.

It s about four o clock in the morning; that s why the church is closed,

Sophie said.

The police will be on their way, Scatty said glumly. She reached for her

nunchaku. I hate fighting when I m not feeling well, she muttered.

What do we do now? Josh demanded, panic rising in his voice.

I could try and blast the doors apart with wind, Sophie suggested

hesitantly. She wasn't sure she had the energy to raise the wind again so

soon. She had used her new magical powers to battle the undead in Ojai, but

the effort had completely exhausted her.

I forbid it, Flamel shouted, his face painted in shades of crimson and

shadow. He turned and pointed across rows of wooden pews toward an ornate

altar picked out in a tracery of white marble. Candlelight hinted at an

intricate mosaic in glittering blues and golds in the dome over the altar.

This is a national monument; I' ll not let you destroy it.

Where are we? the twins asked together, looking around the building. Now

that their eyes had adjusted to the gloom, they realized that the building

was huge. They could distinguish columns soaring high into the shadows

overhead and were able to make out the shapes of small side altars, statues

in nooks and countless banks of candles.

This, Flamel announced proudly, is the church of Sacre -Coeur.

Sitting in the back of his limousine, Niccol Machiavelli tapped coordinates

into his laptop and watched a high-resolution map of Paris wink into

existence on the screen. Paris was an incredibly ancient city. The first

settlement went back more than two thousand years, though there had been

humans living on the island in the Seine for generations before that. And

like many of the earth s oldest cities, it had been sited where groups of ley

lines met.

Machiavelli hit a keystroke, which laid down a complicated pattern of ley

lines over the map of the city. He was looking for a line that connected with

the United States. He finally managed to reduce the number of possibilities

to six. With a perfectly manicured fingernail, he traced two lines that

directly linked the West Coast of America to Paris. One finished at the great

cathedral of Notre Dame, the other in the more modern but equally famous

Sacre -Coeur basilica in Montmartre.

But which one?

Suddenly, the Parisian night was broken by a series of howling alarms.

Machiavelli hit the control for the electric window and the darkened glass

whispered down. Cool night air swirled into the car. In the distance, rising

high above the rooftops on the opposite side of the Place du Tertre, was

Sacre -Coeur. The imposing domed building was always lit up at night in stark

white light. Tonight, however, red alarm lights pulsed around the building

That one. Machiavelli s smile was terrifying. He called up a program on the

laptop and waited while the hard drive spun.

Enter password.

His fingers flew over the keyboard as he typed: Discorsi sopra la prima deca

di Tito Livio. No one was going to break that password. It wasn't one of his

better-known books.

A rather ordinary-looking text document appeared, written in a combination of

Latin, Greek and Italian. Once, magicians had had to keep their spells and

incantations in handwritten books called grimoires, but Machiavelli had

always used the latest technology. He preferred to keep his spells on his

hard drive. Now he just needed a little something to keep Flamel and his

friends busy while he gathered his forces.

Josh s head snapped up. I hear police sirens.

There are twelve police cars headed this way, Sophie said, her head tilted

to one side, eyes closed as she listened intently.

Twelve? How can you tell?

Sophie looked at her twin. I can distinguish the different locations of the

sirens.

You can tell them apart? he asked. He found himself wondering, yet again,

at the full extent of his sister s senses.

Each one, she said.

We must not be captured by the police, Flamel interjected sharply. We' ve

neither passports nor alibis. We ve got to get out of here!

How? the twins asked simultaneously.

Flamel shook his head. There has to be another entrance , he began, and

then stopped, nostrils flaring.

Josh watched uneasily as both Sophie and Scatty suddenly reacted to something

he could not smell. What what is it? he demanded, and then he suddenly

caught the faintest whiff of something musky and rank. It was the sort of

smell he d come to associate with a zoo.

Trouble, Scathach said grimly, putting away her nunchaku and drawing her

swords. Big trouble.