The Magician

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

A t precisely 12:13, the Eurostar train pulled out of Gare du Nord station

and began the two-hour-twenty-minute journey into London s St. Pancras

International Station.

Nicholas Flamel sat facing Sophie and Josh across a table in Business Premier

Class. Saint-Germain had bought the tickets using an untraceable credit card

and had supplied them with French passports that came complete with

photographs that looked nothing like the twins, while Nicholas s passport

photograph was that of a young man with a full head of jet-black hair. Tell

them you've aged a lot in the past few years, Saint-Germain said with a

grin. Joan of Arc had spent the morning shopping and had presented Sophie and

Josh each with a backpack filled with clothes and toiletries. When Josh had

opened his, he d discovered the small laptop Saint-Germain had given him the

day before. Was it only yesterday? It seemed so long ago.

Nicholas spread out the newspapers as the train left the station and pulled

on a pair of cheap reading glasses he d bought at a drugstore. He held up Le

Monde so that the twins could see the front page; it carried a picture of the

devastation caused by Nidhogg.

It says here, Nicholas read slowly, that a section of the catacombs

collapsed. He turned the page. There was a half-page picture of piles of

shattered stone in the roped-off square before Notre Dame Cathedral.

Experts are claiming that the collapse and disintegration of some of

Paris s most famous gargoyles and grotesques was caused by acid rain that

weakened the structures. The two events are unconnected, he read, and

closed the paper.

So you were right, Sophie said, exhaustion etched onto her face even though

she d slept for nearly ten hours. Dee and Machiavelli have managed to cover

it up. She looked out the window as the train click-clacked across a maze of

interconnecting lines. A monster walked through Paris yesterday, gargoyles

climbed down off a building and yet there s nothing in the papers. It s like

it never happened.

But it did happen, Flamel said seriously. And you learned the Magic of

Fire and Josh s powers were Awakened. And yesterday you discovered just how

powerful the two of you are together.

And Scathach died, Josh said bitterly.

The blank look of surprise on Flamel s face confused and annoyed Josh. He

looked at his sister, then back at Nicholas. Scatty, he said angrily.

Remember her? She was drowned in the Seine.

Drowned? Flamel smiled, and the new lines at the corners of his eyes and

across his forehead deepened. She s a vampire, Josh, he said gently. She

doesn t need to breathe air. I ll bet she was mad, though; she hates getting

wet, he added. Poor Dagon: he didn't stand a chance. He sank back into the

comfortable seat and closed his eyes. We ve one brief stop to make outside

London, then we ll use the map of the ley lines to get back to San Francisco,

and Perenelle.

Why are we going to England? Josh asked.

We re going to see the oldest immortal human in the world, the Alchemyst

said. I m going to try and persuade him to train you both in the Magic of

Water.

Who is it? Josh asked, reaching for his laptop. The first-class carriages

had a wireless network.

Gilgamesh the King.

End of Book Two

AUTHOR S NOTE

THE CATACOMBS OF PARIS

The Catacombs of Paris that Sophie and Josh explore really exist, as does the

extraordinary sewer system, which comes, as Machiavelli observes, complete

with street signs. Although Paris receives millions of visitors a year, many

are unaware of the vast network of tunnels below the city.

Officially, they are called les carri res de Paris, the quarries of Paris,

but they are commonly called the catacombs, and they are one of the wonders

of the city. The sights the twins encounter in the catacombs the walls of

bones, the spectacular arrangements of skulls are open to the public. They

date to the eighteenth century, when all the bodies and bones in the

overflowing Cimeti re des Innocents were exhumed and transported to the

limestone tunnels and caverns. More bodies from other cemeteries followed,

and it is now estimated that there are as many as seven million bodies in

this bizarre graveyard. No one knows who created the extraordinary and

artistic arrangements of bones; perhaps a workman wanted to fashion a

monument to the dead who would no longer have tombstones to mark their

graves. The walls, made entirely of human bones, many inset with a pattern of

skulls, are suitably eerie and, in some cases, have been lit for dramatic

effect.

The Romans were probably the first to quarry limestone from the ground to

build what would become Lutetia, the earliest Roman settlement on the Ile de

la Cit . Where Notre Dame Cathedral now stands, there was once a monument to

the Roman god Jupiter. From about the tenth century onward, limestone was

extensively mined from the quarries to create the city walls and to build

Notre Dame and the original Louvre palace. The catacombs have long been used

for storage by smugglers and have provided shelter for many homeless. More

recently, both the German army and the French Resistance had bases in the

tunnels during World War II. In this century, illegal art galleries and even

a movie theater have been found deep underground by the cataflics, the police

unit who patrol underground.

Officially, the catacombs are called the Ossuary of Denfert Rochereau, and

the entrance is directly across from the Denfert Rochereau Metro station.

Only a small section is open to the public; the tunnels are treacherous,

narrow, and prone to flooding and are riddled with potholes and wells.

And are the ideal hiding place for a Sleeping God.

A special preview of

THE

SORCERESS

Book Three of

Excerpt copyright 2008 by Michael Scott

Published by Delacorte Press

I am tired now, so tired.

And I am aging fast. There is a stiffness in my joints, my sight is no longer

sharp and I find I have to strain to hear. Over the past five days I have

been forced to use my powers, and that has speeded the aging process. I

estimate that I have aged by at least a decade perhaps more since last

Thursday. If I am to live, I have to retrieve the Book of Abraham, and I

cannot I dare not risk using my powers.

But Dee has the Codex, and I know that I will be forced yet again to use my

waning aura.

We are about to enter London. I fear this city above all others, for it is at

the very heart of Dee s power. London has attracted Elders from across the

globe: there are more of them in this city than in any other on earth. Elders

and Next Generation move freely and unnoticed through the streets, and I know

of at least a dozen Shadowrealms scattered across the British Isles. The last

time Perenelle and I were in this city, in September 1666, the Magician

almost burned it to the ground trying to capture us. We ve never been back.

However, a great number of ley lines meet and converge over these Celtic

lands, and I pray that with the twins Awakened powers, we can use those

lines to return to San Francisco and my Perenelle.

And here too is Gilgamesh the King, the oldest immortal human in the world.

His knowledge is incalculable and encyclopedic. It is said that he was once

the guardian of the Codex, that he even knew the mythical Abraham who created

the Book. Gilgamesh also knows all the elemental magics, though strangely, he

never possessed the power to use them. The King has no aura. I ve often

wondered what that must be like: to be aware of so many incredible things, to

have access to the wisdom of the ancients and yet be unable to use it.

I have told Sophie and Josh that I need Gilgamesh to train them in the Magic

of Water and find us a ley line that will take us home. What they do not know

is that it is a desperate gamble: if the King refuses, then we will be

trapped in the very heart of Dee s domain, with no possibility of escape.

Nor have I told them that Gilgamesh is quite, quite insane.

From the Day Booke of Nicholas Flamel, Alchemyst

Writ this day, Monday, 4th June,

in London, the city of my enemies

MONDAY,

4th June