The Magician

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

J oan swung the battered Citro n into the mouth of the alleyway and eased the

car to a halt, blocking the entrance. Leaning over the steering wheel, she

scoured the alley, looking for movement, wondering if this was a trap.

Following Josh had been remarkably easy; all she d had to do was to follow

the gouge cut into the street by the metal rim of his car s front wheel.

She d had a brief moment of panic when she d lost him in a maze of back

streets, but then a thick plume of black smoke rose over the rooftops and

she d followed that: it had led her to the alley and the burning police car.

Stay here, she commanded the exhausted Flamel and the ashen-faced Sophie as

she climbed out of the car. She carried her sword loosely in her right hand

as she walked down the alley, tapping the blade gently against the palm of

her left hand. She was fairly sure that they were too late and that Dee,

Machiavelli and Josh were gone, but she wasn't prepared to take any risks.

Padding silently down the center of the alley, wary of the piles of trash

cans that could be hiding an assailant, Joan realized she was still in a

state of shock following Scatty s disappearance. One moment Joan had been

standing in front of her old friend, and the next, the creature that was more

fish than man had reared up out of the water and dragged Scatty down with

him.

Joan blinked away tears. She had known Scathach for more than five hundred

years. In those early centuries they d been inseparable, adventuring together

across the world into countries yet to be explored by the West, encountering

tribes that still lived as their ancestors had thousands of years in the

past. They d discovered lost islands, hidden cities and forgotten countries,

and Scatty had even taken her into some of the Shadowrealms, where they had

fought creatures that had long been extinct on the earth. In the

Shadowrealms, Joan had seen her friend fight and defeat creatures that

existed only in the darkest human myths. Joan knew that nothing could stand

against the Shadow and yet Scatty herself had always said that she could be

defeated, that she was immortal but not invulnerable. Joan had always

imagined that when Scatty finally laid down her life it would be in one final

dramatic and extraordinary event not by being dragged into a dirty river by

an overgrown fish-man.

Joan grieved for her friend, and she would weep for her, but not now. Not

yet.

Joan of Arc had been a warrior from the time she was barely a teenager,

riding into battle at the head of a massive French army. She had seen too

many friends fall in battle and had learned that if she concentrated on their

deaths she would be incapable of fighting. Right now she knew she needed to

protect Nicholas and the girl. Later, there would be time to grieve for

Scathach the Shadow, and there would also be time to go in search of the

creature Flamel had called Dagon. Joan hefted the sword in her hand. She

would avenge her friend.

The petite Frenchwoman walked past the blazing remains of the police car and

crouched on the ground, expertly reading the traces and signs on the damp

stones. She heard Nicholas and Sophie climb out of the battered Citro n and

walk down the alley, stepping around puddles of oil and dirty water. Nicholas

was carrying Clarent. Joan distinctly heard it buzz as he approached the

burning car, and she wondered if it was still connected to the boy.

They ran from the car and stopped here, she said, without looking up, as

they stopped beside her. Dee and Machiavelli were facing Josh. He stood over

there. She pointed. They ran through the water back there; you can clearly

see the outlines of their shoes on the ground.

Sophie and Flamel leaned over and looked at the ground. They nodded, though

she knew they could see nothing.

Now, this is interesting, she continued. At one stage Josh s footsteps are

pointing down the alley, and he s on the balls of his feet, almost as if he

was thinking about running. But look here. She pointed to traces of heel

prints on the ground that only she could see. The three of them walked off

together, Dee and Josh first, Machiavelli following behind.

Can you track them? Flamel demanded.

Joan shrugged. To the end of the alley, maybe, but beyond that She

shrugged again and straightened up, dusting off her hands. Impossible; there

will be too many other prints.

What are we going to do? Nicholas whispered. How are we going to find the

boy?

Joan s eyes drifted from Flamel s face to Sophie. We can t but Sophie can.

How? he asked.

Joan moved her hand in a horizontal line in front of her. It left the

faintest tracery of light in the air, and the foul alley briefly smelled of

lavender. She s his twin: she ll be able to follow his aura.

Nicholas Flamel caught both of Sophie s shoulders, forcing the girl to look

into his eyes. Sophie! he snapped. Sophie, look at me.

Sophie raised red-rimmed eyes to look at the Alchemyst. She was completely

numb. Scatty was gone, and now Josh had vanished, kidnapped by Dee and

Machiavelli. Everything was falling apart.

Sophie, Nicholas said very quietly, his pale eyes catching and holding

hers. I need you to be strong now.

What s the point? she asked. They re gone.

They re not gone, he said confidently.

But Scatty The girl hiccupped.

is one of the most dangerous women in the world, he finished. She s

survived for over two thousand years and fought creatures infinitely more

dangerous than Dagon.

Sophie wasn't sure if he was trying to convince himself or her. I saw that

thing drag her into the river, and we waited for at least ten minutes. She

didn't come back up. She must have drowned. Her voice caught and she could

feel the tears pricking at the back of her eyes again. Her throat felt as if

it were on fire.

I ve seen her survive worse, much worse. Nicholas attempted a wan smile. I

think Dagon is in for a surprise! Scatty s like a cat: she hates getting wet.

The Seine runs very fast; they were probably swept downriver. She ll contact

us.

But how? She ll have no idea where we are. Sophie really hated the way

adults lied. They were just so transparent.

Sophie, Nicholas said seriously. If Scathach is alive, she will find us.

Trust me.

And in that moment, Sophie realized that she did not trust the Alchemyst.

Joan put her arm on Sophie s shoulder and squeezed gently. Nicholas is

right. Scatty is She smiled, and her entire face lit up. She is

extraordinary. Her aunt once abandoned her in one of the Underworld

Shadowrealms: it took her centuries to find her way out. But she did it.

Sophie nodded slowly. She knew that what they were saying was true the Witch

of Endor knew more about Scathach than either the Alchemyst or Joan but she

could also tell that they were very worried.

Now, Sophie, Nicholas resumed. I need you to find your brother.

How?

I m hearing sirens, Joan said urgently, looking back down the alley. Lots

of sirens.

Flamel ignored her. He stared deep into Sophie s bright blue eyes. You can

find him, he insisted. You are his twin; it is a connection that goes even

deeper than blood. you've always known when he was in trouble, haven t you?

Sophie nodded.

Nicholas , Joan prodded, we are running out of time.

you've always felt his pain, known when he was unhappy or upset?

Sophie nodded again.

You are connected to him, you can find him. The Alchemyst turned the girl

around so that she was facing down the alleyway. Josh was standing here, he

said, pointing. Dee and Machiavelli were standing about here.

Sophie was confused and getting irritated. But they re gone now. They took

him away.

I don't think they forced him to go anywhere, I think he went with them of

his own free will, Nicholas said very softly.

The words hit Sophie like a blow. Josh wouldn't leave her, would he? But

why?

Flamel shrugged slightly. Who knows? Dee has always been very persuasive,

and Machiavelli is a master manipulator. But we can find them, I m sure of

it. Your senses have been Awakened, Sophie. Look again; imagine Josh standing

in front of you, see him .

Sophie took a deep breath and closed her eyes, then opened them again. She

could see nothing out of the ordinary; she was standing in a dirty

trash-strewn alley, the walls covered with curling ornate graffiti, with the

smoke of the burning car whirling around her.

His aura is gold, Flamel continued. Dee s is yellow Machiavelli s gray or

dirty white .

Sophie started to shake her head. I can t see anything, she began.

Then let me help you. Nicholas put his hand on her shoulder and suddenly

the stink of the burning car was replaced with the fresh sharp smell of mint.

Instantly, her aura flared around her body, crackling and spitting like a

firework, the pure silver now tinged with the emerald green of Flamel s aura.

And then she saw something.

Directly in front of her she could make out the merest hint of Josh s

outline. It was ghostly and insubstantial, composed of little more than

threads and sparkling dust motes of gold, and when he moved he trailed

streaked lines of gossamer color in the air behind him. Now that she knew

what she was looking for, she could also make out the traces of Dee s and

Machiavelli s outlines in the air.

She blinked slowly, afraid that the images would vanish, but they remained

hanging in the air before her, and if anything, the colors grew even more

intense. Josh s aura was the brightest of all. She reached out blindly, her

fingers touching the golden edge of her brother s arm. The smoky outline

twisted away as if blown by a breeze.

I see them, she said in awe, her voice barely above a whisper. She d never

imagined she d be able to do anything like this. I can see their outlines.

Where did they go? Nicholas asked.

Sophie followed the colored streaks in the air; they led to the end of the

alley. This way, she said, and set off down the alleyway toward the street,

with Nicholas close on her heels.

Joan of Arc took one last lingering look at her battered car and then

followed.

What are you thinking? Flamel asked.

I m thinking that when this is all over, I m going to return the car to its

former pristine condition. And then never take it out of the garage again.

Something s wrong, Flamel said as they wove their way through the streets.

Sophie was concentrating fiercely on following her twin and ignored him.

I ve just been thinking the same thing, Joan said. The city is too quiet.

Exactly. Flamel looked around. Where were the Parisians on their way to

work and the tourists determined to get to see the sights before the city

grew stifling hot and crowded? The few people on the street hurried past,

talking excitedly together. The air was filled with sirens, and there were

police everywhere. And then Nicholas realized that Nidhogg s rampage through

the city had probably hit the news and people were being warned to stay off

the streets. He wondered what excuse the authorities would make to explain

the chaos.

Sophie pushed her way blindly down the street, following the gossamer threads

that Josh s, Dee s and Machiavelli s auras had left in the air behind them.

She kept bumping into people and apologizing, but she never took her eyes off

the sparkles of light. And then she noticed that as the sun rose higher in

the heavens, it was becoming harder and harder to make out the pinpoints of

colored light. She realized she was running out of time.

Joan of Arc caught up with the Alchemyst. Can she really see the afterimages

left by their auras? she asked in archaic French.

She can, Nicholas replied in the same language. The girl is

extraordinarily powerful: she has no idea of the extent of her powers.

Have you any clue where we re going? Joan asked, looking around. She

thought they were somewhere in the vicinity of the Palais de Tokyo, but she d

been concentrating on the marks on the road left by the police car and hadn't

been paying too much attention to their whereabouts.

None, Nicholas said, frowning. I m just wondering why we seem to be

heading into the back streets. I would have thought that Machiavelli would

want to take the boy into custody.

Nicholas, they want the boy for themselves, or rather, the Elders do. What

does the prophecy say? The two that are one, the one that is all. One to

save the world, one to destroy it. The boy is a prize. Without moving her

head, her eyes flickered toward Sophie. And the girl, too.

I know that.

Joan rested her hand lightly on the Alchemyst s arm. You know that we must

never allow both of them to fall into Dee s hands.

Flamel s face hardened into a mask. I know that, too.

What will you do?

Whatever is necessary, he said grimly.

Joan pulled out a black cell phone. I m calling Francis; I ll let him know

we re OK. She looked around for a landmark. Maybe he ll know where we are.

Sophie turned into a narrow alleyway, barely wide enough for two people to

pass side by side. In the gloom, she could see the threads and speckled light

more clearly now. She even caught ghostly flashes of her brother s outline.

She felt her spirits lift; maybe they were going to catch up with him.

Then, abruptly, the auras vanished.

She stopped, confused and frightened. What had happened? Looking back down

the alley, she could see the traces of their auras in the air, gold and

yellow Josh and Dee, side by side Machiavelli s gray following along behind.

They reached the center of the alleyway and stopped, and she could distinctly

see the outline of her brother s body picked out in gold standing almost

directly in front of her. Squinting, concentrating hard, she attempted to

bring his aura into focus .

He was looking down, mouth open.

Sophie stepped back. Directly under her feet was a large manhole cover, with

the letters IDC pressed into the metal. Tiny speckles of the three auras were

streaked across the cover, outlining each letter in a different color.

Sophie? Nicholas began.

She felt a rush of excitement: relief that she hadn't lost him. They ve gone

down, she said.

Down? he asked, turning a sickly pale color. His voice dropped to little

more than a whisper. Are you sure?

Positive, she said, alarmed at the expression on his face. Why, what s

wrong? What s down there? Sewers?

Sewers and worse. The Alchemyst suddenly looked very old and tired. Below

us are the legendary Catacombs of Paris, he whispered.

Joan crouched down and pointed to where the mud around the edge of the

manhole cover was disturbed. This was opened very recently. She looked up,

her expression grim. You re right; they ve taken him down into the Empire of

the Dead.