The Magician

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

H uge sweeping banks of fog rolled across San Francisco Bay.

Perenelle Flamel folded her arms across her chest and watched the night sky

fill with birds. A great wheeling flock rose over the city, gathered in a

thick moving cloud, and then, like tendrils of spilled ink, three separate

streams of birds set out across the bay, heading directly for the island. And

she knew that somewhere in the heart of the great flock was the Crow Goddess.

The Morrigan was coming to Alcatraz.

Perenelle was standing in the burned-out ruins of the warden s house, where

she d finally managed to escape the masses of spiders. Although it had burned

more than three decades ago, she could smell the ghost-odors of charred wood,

cracked plaster and melted piping lingering in the air. The Sorceress knew

that if she lowered her defenses and concentrated, she would be able to hear

the voices of the wardens and their families who had occupied the building

through the years.

Shading her bright green eyes and squinting hard, Perenelle concentrated on

the approaching birds, trying to distinguish them from the night and work out

just how much time she had before they arrived. The flock was huge, and the

thickening fog made it impossible to guess either size or distance. But she

guessed she had perhaps ten or fifteen minutes before they reached the

island. She brought her little finger and thumb close together. A single

white spark cracked between them. Perenelle nodded. Her powers were

returning, just not fast enough. They would continue to strengthen now that

she was away from the sphinx, but her aura would recharge more slowly at

night. She also knew that she was still nowhere near strong enough to defeat

the Morrigan and her pets.

But that didn't mean she was defenseless; a lifetime of study had taught her

many useful things.

The Sorceress felt a chill breeze ruffle her long hair in the instant before

the ghost of Juan Manuel de Ayala flickered into existence beside her. The

ghost hung in the air, taking substance and definition from a host of dust

particles and water droplets in the gathering fog. Like many of the ghosts

she d encountered, he was wearing the clothes he had felt most comfortable in

while he was alive: a loose white linen shirt tucked into knee-length

trousers. His legs tapered away below his knees, and, like a lot of spirits,

he had no feet. While they were alive, people rarely looked down at their

feet. This was once the most beautiful spot on this earth, was it not? he

asked, flat moist eyes fixed on the city of San Francisco.

It still is, she said, turning to look across the bay to where the city

sparkled and glittered with countless tiny lights. Nicholas and I have

called it home for many years.

Oh, not the city! de Ayala said dismissively.

Perenelle glanced sidelong at the ghost. What are you talking about? she

asked. It looks beautiful.

I once stood here, close to this very spot, and watched perhaps a thousand

fires burning on the shores. Each fire represented a family. In time I came

to know all of them. The Spaniard s long face grimaced in what might have

been pain. They taught me about the land, and about this place, spoke to me

of their gods and spirits. I think it was those people who bound me to this

land. All I see now are lights; I cannot see the stars, I cannot see the

tribes or individuals huddling around their fires. Where is the place I

loved?

Perenelle nodded toward the distant lights. It s still there. Just grown.

It s changed out of all recognition, de Ayala said, and not for the

better.

I ve watched the world change too, Juan. Perenelle spoke very softly. But

I like to believe that it has changed for the better. I am older than you. I

was born into an age when a toothache could kill you, when life was short and

brutal and death was often painful. Around the same time you were discovering

this island, the average life expectancy of a healthy adult was no more than

thirty-five years. Now it is double that. Toothaches no longer kill well, not

usually, she added with a laugh. Getting Nicholas to go to the dentist was

practically impossible. Humans have made astonishing strides in the last few

hundred years; they have created wonders.

De Ayala floated around to hover directly in front of her. And in their rush

to create wonders, they have ignored the wonders all around them, ignored the

mysteries, the beauty. Myths and legends walk unseen amongst them, ignored,

unrecognized. It was not always so.

No, it wasn't, Perenelle agreed sadly. She looked across the bay. The city

was fast disappearing into the mist, the lights taking on a magical, ethereal

quality. It was easy now to see what it must have looked like in the past and

what it might look like again if the Dark Elders reclaimed the earth. In past

ages, mankind had recognized that there really were creatures and other

races the Vampire, the Were, the Giants living in the shadows. Sometimes

beings as powerful as gods lived in the heart of the mountains or deep in the

impenetrable forests. There were ghouls in the earth, wolves really did roam

the forest, and there were creatures much worse than trolls under bridges.

When travelers had returned from distant lands, bringing with them stories of

the monsters and creatures they had met, the wonders they had seen, no one

doubted them. Nowadays, even with photographs, videos or eyewitness accounts

of something extraordinary or otherworldly, people still doubted dismissing

everything as a hoax.

And now one of those terrible wonders is coming to my island, Juan said

sadly. I can feel it approach. Who is it?

The Morrigan, the Crow Goddess.

Juan turned to Perenelle. I ve heard of her; some of the Irish and Scottish

sailors in my crews feared her. She s coming for you, isn't she?

Yes. The Sorceress smiled grimly.

What will she do?

Perenelle tilted her head to one side, considering. Well, they ve tried

imprisoning me. That s failed. I imagine Dee s masters have finally

sanctioned a more permanent solution. She laughed shakily. I ve been in

trickier situations . Her voice cracked and she swallowed hard and tried

again. But I ve always had Nicholas by my side. Together we were

undefeatable. I wish he were here with me now. She took a deep breath,

steadying her breathing and raising both hands in front of her face. Smoking

wisps of her ice white aura curled off her fingertips. But I am the immortal

Perenelle Flamel, and I will not go down without a fight.

Tell me how I can help you, de Ayala said formally.

You have done enough for me already. Because of you I escaped the Sphinx.

This is my island. And you are under my protection now. He smiled ruefully.

However, I m not sure the birds will be frightened by a few banging doors.

And there s not a lot else I can do.

Perenelle carefully picked her way from one side of the ruined house to the

other. Standing in one of the tall rectangular windows, she stared back at

the prison. Now that night had fallen, it was little more than a vague and

ominous outline against the purple sky. She took stock of her situation: she

was trapped on an island crawling with spiders, there was a sphinx wandering

loose in the corridors below, and the cells were filled with creatures from

some of the darkest myths she had ever encountered. Plus, her powers were

incredibly diminished and the Morrigan was coming. She d told de Ayala that

she d been in trickier situations, but right now she couldn't remember one.

The ghost appeared alongside Perenelle, its outline distorting the shape of

the building beyond. What can I do to help?

How well do you know this island? she asked.

Ha! I know every inch. I know the secret places, the half-completed tunnels

dug by the prisoners, hidden corridors, walled-up rooms, the old Indian caves

cut deep into the rock below. I could hide you and no one would ever find

you.

The Morrigan is resourceful and then there are the spiders. They d find me.

The ghost floated around to place himself directly in front of her again.

Only his eyes a deep rich brown were visible in the night. Oh, the spiders

are not under Dee s control.

Perenelle took a step back in surprise. They re not?

They only began to appear a couple of weeks ago. I started to notice the

webs over the doors, coating the stairs. Every morning, there were more and

more spiders. They d float in on the wind, carried by strands of thread.

There were humanlike guards on the island then though they were not human,

he added quickly. Terrible blank-faced creatures.

Homunculi, Perenelle said with a shudder. Creatures Dee grows in bubbling

vats of fat. What happened to them?

They were given the task of sweeping clean the spiders webs, keeping the

doors clear. One stumbled and fell into a web, de Ayala said, his teeth

appearing out of the gloom in a quick smile. All that was left of it were

scraps of cloth. Not even bones, he told her in a horrified whisper.

That s because homunculi have no bones, she said absently. So what is

calling the spiders here?

De Ayala turned to look at the prison. I m not sure .

I thought you knew all there was to know about this island? Perenelle said

with a smile.

Far below the prison, cut deep into the bedrock by the waves, is a series of

subterranean caves. I believe the first native inhabitants of the island used

them for storage. About a month ago, the small Englishman

Dee?

Yes, Dee, brought something to the island in the dead of night. It was

sealed away in those caves, and then he blanketed the entire area with

magical sigils and Wards. Even I cannot penetrate the layers of protection.

But I am convinced that whatever is drawing the spiders to the island is

locked in those caves.

Can you get me to the caves? Perenelle asked urgently. She could hear the

rasp and clatter of thousands of birds wings, drawing ever closer.

No, de Ayala snapped. The corridor is thick with spiders, and who knows

what other traps Dee has put into place.

Perenelle automatically reached for the sailor s arm, but her hand passed

right through him, leaving a swirl of water droplets in her wake. If Dee has

buried something in Alcatraz s hidden dungeons, and then protected it with

magic so potent that even an insubstantial spirit cannot get through it, then

we need to know what it is. She smiled. Have you never heard the saying

the enemy of my enemy is my friend ?

No, but I have heard fools rush in where angels fear to tread.

Come, then quickly, before the Morrigan arrives. Take me back into

Alcatraz.