The Magician

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

N icholas had just levered up the manhole cover when Joan s phone rang, the

high-pitched warbling scale making them all jump with fright. The Alchemyst

dropped the cover back into place with a clang, dancing back before it fell

on his toes.

It s Francis, Joan told them, flipping open the phone. She spoke to

Saint-Germain in rapid-fire French and then snapped the cell closed. He s on

his way, she said. He said that on no account are we to go down into the

catacombs without him.

But we can t wait, Sophie protested.

Sophie s right. We should Nicholas started to say.

We wait, Joan said firmly in the voice that had once commanded armies. She

placed her tiny foot on the manhole cover.

They ll get away, Sophie said desperately.

Francis said he knows where they re going, Joan said very softly. She

turned to look at the Alchemyst. He said you do too. Do you? she demanded.

Nicholas took a deep breath and then nodded grimly. The early-morning light

washed all the life from his face, leaving it the color of faded parchment.

The circles beneath his eyes were bruise dark and baggy. I believe so.

Where? Sophie asked. She tried to stay calm. She d always been better at

controlling her temper than her brother was, but right now she was close to

throwing back her head and screaming in frustration. If the Alchemyst knew

where Josh was going, why weren t they heading there now?

Dee is taking Josh to have his powers Awakened, Flamel said slowly,

obviously choosing his words with care.

Sophie frowned, confused. Is that so bad? isn't that what we wanted?

Yes, it s what we wanted, but not how we wanted it. Although his face was

expressionless, there was pain in his eyes. Much depends on who or

what Awakens a person s powers. It is a dangerous process. It can even be

deadly.

Sophie slowly turned to look at him. And yet you were willing to allow

Hekate to Awaken both Josh and me. Her brother had been right all along:

Flamel had put them both in danger. She could see that now.

It was necessary for your own protection. There were dangers, yes, but

neither of you was in any danger from the Goddess herself.

What sort of dangers?

Most of the Elders were never generous toward what they called humani. Very

few of them were prepared to give without attaching some sort of conditions,

Flamel explained. The greatest gift the Elders can bestow is that of

immortality. Humans want to live forever. Both Dee and Machiavelli are in

service to their Dark Elders who gifted them with immortality.

In service? Sophie asked, looking from the Alchemyst to Joan.

They are servants, Joan said gently, some would say slaves. It is the

price of their immortality and powers.

Joan s phone rang again with the same ring tone and she flipped it open.

Fran ois?

Sophie, Flamel continued quietly, the gift of immortality can be withdrawn

from a person at any time, and if that happens then all of their unnatural

years will catch up with them in a matter of moments. Some Elders enslave the

humani they Awaken, turn them into little better than zombies.

But Hekate didn't make me immortal when she Awakened me, Sophie argued.

Unlike the Witch of Endor, Hekate had no interest in humani for countless

generations. She always remained neutral in the wars between those of us who

defend humanity and the Dark Elders. A bitter smile twisted his thin lips.

Perhaps if she had chosen a side, she would still be alive today.

Sophie looked into the Alchemyst s pale eyes. She was thinking that if Flamel

had not gone into Hekate s Shadowrealm, the Elder would still be alive.

You re saying Josh is in danger, she said finally.

Terrible danger.

Sophie s gaze never left Flamel s face. Josh was in danger not because of Dee

or Machiavelli, but because Nicholas Flamel has placed the two of them in

this terrible situation. He was protecting them, he said, and once she had

believed that without question. But now now she didn't know what to think.

Come. Joan snapped her phone shut, caught Sophie s hand and dragged her

down the alleyway toward the street. Francis is on the way.

Flamel took one final look at the manhole cover, then tucked Clarent under

his coat and hurried after them.

Joan led them out of the narrow side street onto the Avenue du President

Wilson, then quickly turned left onto Rue Debrousse and headed back toward

the river. The air was filled with the sounds of countless police and

ambulance sirens, and in the skies overhead police helicopters buzzed low

over the city. The streets were almost completely empty, and no one paid any

attention to three people running for shelter.

Sophie shivered; the whole scene was so surreal. It was like something she d

see in a war documentary on the Discovery Channel.

At the bottom of the Rue Debrousse, they found Saint-Germain waiting in a

nondescript black BMW badly in need of washing. The front and rear passenger

doors were open slightly, and the tinted driver s window hummed down as they

approached. Saint-Germain was grinning delightedly. Nicholas, you should

come home more often; the city is in chaos. It s all terribly exciting. I ve

not had so much fun in centuries.

Joan slid in beside her husband, while Nicholas and Sophie climbed into the

back. Saint-Germain gunned the engine, but Nicholas leaned forward and

squeezed his shoulder.

Not so fast. We don't need to draw any attention to ourselves, he warned.

But with the panic on the streets, we shouldn't be driving slowly, either,

Saint-Germain pointed out. He eased the car away from the curb and set off

down the Avenue de New York. He drove with one hand on the steering wheel,

the other draped over the seat as he kept twisting around to talk to the

Alchemyst.

Completely numb, Sophie slumped against the window, staring out at the river

flashing by on her left. In the distance, on the opposite side of the Seine,

she could make out the now familiar shape of the Eiffel Tower rising over the

rooftops. She was exhausted and her head was spinning. She was confused about

the Alchemyst. Nicholas couldn't be bad, could he? Saint-Germain and

Joan Scatty, too obviously respected him. Even Hekate and the Witch liked

him. Flickering thoughts that she knew were not hers hovered at the very edge

of her consciousness, but when she tried to focus, they drifted away. They

were the Witch of Endor s memories, and she knew instinctively that they were

important. They were something to do with the catacombs, and the creature who

lived in the depths .

Officially, the police are reporting that a portion of the catacombs has

caved in and brought down some houses with it, Saint-Germain was saying.

They re claiming that the sewers have ruptured and that methane, carbon

dioxide and carbon monoxide gas have escaped into the city. The center of

Paris is being sealed off and evacuated. People are being advised to remain

indoors.

Nicholas leaned back against the leather seats and closed his eyes. Has

anyone been injured? he asked.

A few cuts and bruises, but nothing more serious has been reported.

Joan shook her head in amazement. Considering what s just tromped through

the city, that s a minor miracle.

Any sightings of Nidhogg? Nicholas asked.

Not on any of the main news channels yet, but some grainy cell phone images

have turned up on blogs, and Le Monde and Le Figaro are both claiming to have

exclusive images of what they are calling The Creature from the Catacombs

and The Beast from the Pit.

Sophie leaned forward, following the conversation. She looked from Nicholas

to Saint-Germain and then back at the Alchemyst. Soon the whole world will

know the truth. What happens then?

Nothing, the two men said simultaneously.

Nothing? But that s not possible.

Joan swiveled around in the passenger seat. But that is what is going to

happen. This will be covered up.

Sophie looked at Flamel. He nodded in agreement. Most people simply won t

believe it anyway, Sophie. It will be dismissed as a hoax or a prank. Those

who do think it true will be called conspiracy theorists. And you can be sure

that Machiavelli s people are already working to confiscate and destroy every

image.

Within a couple of hours, Saint-Germain added, the events of this morning

will simply be reported as an unfortunate accident. Sightings of a monster

will be laughed at and dismissed as hysteria.

Sophie shook her head in disbelief. You can t hide something like that

forever.

The Elders have been doing it for millennia, Saint-Germain said, tilting

the rearview mirror so that he could look at Sophie. In the dark interior of

the car, she thought his bright blue eyes were glowing slightly. And you

have to remember that humankind really does not want to believe in magic.

They don't want to know that myths and legends were almost always based on

the truth.

Joan reached over and laid her hand gently on her husband s arm. But I do

not agree; humans have always believed in magic. It is only in these last few

centuries that the belief has fallen away. I think that they really want to

believe, because in their hearts they know it to be true. They know that

magic really exists.

I used to believe in magic, Sophie said very quietly. She had turned to

look out at the city again, but reflected in the glass, she saw a brightly

painted child s bedroom: her bedroom, five, perhaps six years ago. She had no

idea where it was the house in Scottsdale, maybe, or it might have been

Raleigh; they d moved around so much then. She was sitting in the middle of

her bed, surrounded by her favorite books. When I was younger, I read about

princesses and wizards and knights and magicians. Even though I knew they

were just stories, I wanted the magic to be real. Until now, she added

bitterly. She moved her head to glance at the Alchemyst. Are all the fairy

tales true?

Flamel nodded. Not every fairy tale, but just about every legend is based on

a truth; every myth has a basis in reality.

Even the scary ones? she whispered.

Especially the scary ones.

A trio of news helicopters buzzed low overhead, the noise of their rotors

vibrating the interior of the car. Flamel waited until they had passed and

then leaned forward. Where are we going?

Saint-Germain pointed straight ahead and to the right. There s a secret

entrance to the catacombs in the Trocad ro Gardens. It leads straight down

into the forbidden tunnels. I ve checked the old maps; I think Dee s route

will take them through the sewers first and then down into the lower tunnels.

We ll make up some time this way.

Nicholas Flamel sat back in the seat and then reached over and squeezed

Sophie s hand. It s going to be all right, he said.

But Sophie didn't believe him.

The entrance to the catacombs was through a rather ordinary-looking metal

grate set into the ground. Partially covered in moss and grass, it was hidden

in a stand of trees behind a richly carved and beautifully painted carousel

at one end of the Trocad ro Gardens. Usually, the stunning gardens would have

been overrun with tourists, but this morning they were deserted, and the

carousel s empty wooden horses bobbed up and down below their blue and white

striped awning.

Saint-Germain cut across a narrow path and led them into a patch of grass

burned brown by the summer sun. He stopped over an unmarked rectangular metal

grate. I haven t used this since 1941. He knelt down, grabbed the bars and

tugged. It didn't move.

Joan glanced sidelong at Sophie. When Francis and I fought with the French

Resistance against the Germans, we used the catacombs as a base. We could pop

up anywhere in the city. She tapped the metal grate with the toe of her

shoe. This was one of our favorite spots. Even during the war the gardens

were always full of people, and we could mingle easily with the crowds.

The air was suddenly touched with the rich autumnal scent of burnt leaves,

and then the metal bars in Francis s hands began to glow with a rich red-hot,

then white-hot, heat. The metal turned to liquid and melted away, thick blobs

disappearing down into the shaft. Saint-Germain wrenched the remainder of the

grating out of the hole and tossed it to one side, then swung himself into

the opening. There s a ladder here.

Sophie, you go next, Nicholas said. I ll come after you. Joan, will you

take up the rear?

Joan nodded. She caught the edge of a nearby wooden park bench and dragged it

across the grass. I ll pull it over the opening before I climb down. We

don't want any unexpected visitors dropping in, do we? She smiled.

Sophie gingerly climbed into the opening, her feet finding the rungs of the

ladder. She carefully lowered herself. She d been expecting it to be foul and

horrible, but it just smelled dry and musty. She started counting the steps

but lost count somewhere around seventy-two, though she could tell by the

rapidly diminishing square of sky above their heads that they were climbing

deep underground. She wasn't scared not for herself. Tunnels and narrow

spaces held no fears for her, but her brother was terrified of small spaces:

how was he feeling now? Butterflies shifted in her stomach; she felt queasy.

Her mouth went dry and she knew instinctively, unquestioningly that this was

how her brother was feeling right at that moment. She knew that Josh was

terrified.