The Enchantress (The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel #6) (11 page)

“None taken. I was never that fond of it myself.” Prometheus finished his coffee in a single swallow, then crumpled the cup and pitched it into a trash can. “There are two
possibilities on the West Coast,” he said quietly. “It could be Quetzalcoatl, or, worse, it could be Bastet. Both prefer the perfume of spoiled meat.”

“Who do you think it is?” Perenelle asked.

Prometheus shook his head. “Earlier, I thought it might be Quetzalcoatl. I caught a slightly exotic, spicy tang in the air.”

Niten breathed deeply. “I don’t get that. All I can smell is rancid meat and maybe—just maybe—the hint of cat. Though that might be from a real cat close by,” he added.

“Or it could be both Elders,” Perenelle suggested.

Prometheus shook his head firmly. “No, that’s not going to happen. They were always bitter enemies.”

“Why?” Niten asked.

“Something that happened a long time ago, before Danu Talis fell. There is no way they will join forces.”

A foghorn sounded and they stopped to listen to the long slow bellow. “Something wicked this way comes,” Nicholas whispered. He put his cup on the ground and rubbed his hands quickly together. “Did you manage to contact anyone?”

Prometheus shook his head slightly. “Some. But not enough. Those loyal to the humani are already aware of the disturbance here and I’m hoping are on the way. Of course, that also applies to those loyal to the Dark Elders. However, I spoke to Barbarossa …”

“The emperor or the pirate?”

“The emperor,” the Elder clarified. “He’s in Chicago, but will come in on the first flight in the morning. If there are
flights. He’s already put the word out to immortals and Elders living on the East Coast. He’ll bring as many as he can.”

“They’ll be too late,” Perenelle said. “We need them here now.”

“He did say that the immortal Zenobia and the Elder Pyrgomache are on the way here. They’re coming in on a Greyhound bus.”

“Not in this fog, they aren’t,” Perenelle said. “And I don’t trust Zenobia. Never did.”

“I spoke to Khutulun,” Niten said. “She breeds horses in Kentucky.”

The Flamels shook their heads simultaneously. “Who is she?” Nicholas asked.

Niten smiled. “Probably the most famous warrior you’ve never heard of. She was the niece of Kublai Khan, and so directly related to Genghis Khan. She was trained first by Scathach and then later by Aoife. Aoife called her Shining Moon and said she was the daughter she always wanted. Khutulun said she’d leave within the hour.”

“She’s driving?” Perenelle asked.

“Khutulun does not fly.”

“Even if she doesn’t stop to sleep, that’s at least a two-day drive across country,” Perenelle said. “It’ll be all over by the time she arrives.”

“She knows that. She said she would avenge us.”

“That’s very comforting.”

“She was going to stop off in Wyoming and pick up the Elders Ynaguinid and Macanduc.”

Prometheus nodded. “Tremendous warriors,” he said. “The bravest of the brave.”

“… who are in Wyoming,” Perenelle said. “Which is no use to us.”

“Davy Crockett’s driving down from Seattle,” Niten said. “But that is at least a day away. Even with the way he drives.”

Nicholas finished his coffee and carefully replaced the empty cup in the cardboard holder. “So what you are saying is that a lot of help is coming, but none of it is going to arrive in time.”

The Elder and the immortal nodded simultaneously.

“Meanwhile,” Perenelle added, “we already know several Dark Elders live in and around the city. Eris lives just down the road in Haight-Ashbury….”

Prometheus waved his hand dismissively. “We can ignore her. She’s been quiet for centuries. Nowadays she spends her time crocheting.”

“Is this the same Eris who caused the Trojan War because she didn’t get a wedding invitation?” Perenelle asked in disbelief. “Do you think she’ll sit quietly by and crochet while the rest of her foul clan invade the city?”

“Probably not,” Prometheus agreed.

“So it’s just us,” Nicholas said.

“I’ve said it before. The island is the key,” Niten said.

“I’m concerned about Odin and Hel,” the Alchemyst continued. “And Mars, too. When I saw them, Hel was wounded and they were barely holding their own. And I’m particularly worried about Black Hawk. He has completely disappeared. I fear we’ve lost him to the Nereids.”

“We need to take the battle to the heart of the enemy,” Niten said decisively. “We must regain the initiative. If we delay, the Dark Elders will arrive and we will be forced to fight on two fronts. And that is a battle we cannot win. We need to get to Alcatraz.”

“How?” Prometheus asked. “Nothing will venture out into the bay in this fog.”

Nicholas looked at Perenelle. “Do you remember when we were on the Isle of Man and Dee turned up with his trained ghouls? Remember how we got away?”

Perenelle grinned. “I remember the look on the Magician’s face.” Her smile faded. “But, Nicholas, we were a lot younger then, and a lot—a whole lot—stronger.”

“Okay, so we’ll burn up a little aura.” He shrugged. “We have nothing to lose.”

Perenelle leaned in to quickly kiss her husband’s cheek. “True.”

“How did you get off the island?” Niten asked.

“We walked.”

“On water?”

Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel nodded.

“I
understand there was a little … unpleasantness earlier,” Osiris said.

“No,” Virginia said evenly. She was watching as the servants laid out a round gold and silver table in the back garden of the circular house. None of the servants were human. Both males and females had the bodies of humans, and their features were almost—though not quite—those of animals. The females appeared to have cat genes, while the males had either dog or pig. And no two were identical.

A trio of cat-girls appeared. One was lightly furred, another had a long curling tail and the third had the speckled pattern of a leopard across her face and bare shoulders. All had whiskers. They laid out baskets of fruit on the table and scampered silently away on all fours.

“Genetic manipulation?” Virginia asked.

“Something like that,” Osiris said. “A combination of
Earthlord, Archon and Great Elder expertise, fired by our auras. Isis and I are creating endless Shadowrealms. We need to populate them. And the humani are not suitable for every world. The average humani struggles to survive even in this world. So we tweak them a little, give them some advantages. The cat-women, for example, will do well in a jungle world, and we’ll try out the dogs and pigs as hunters and trackers. They are flexible enough to go into any number of environments.”

“It is science or magic?” Virginia asked.

“Who was it who said that any sufficiently advanced technology was indistinguishable from magic? Einstein? Newton?”

“Clarke,” she said quietly.

“The humani are essentially a vulnerable race. We are giving them some of the advantages nature forgot.”

“Humans have spread all across the globe, in any number of environments, without your advantages,” Virginia said icily. “They adapt—always have, always will. What you are doing is wrong.”

“We shall have to agree to disagree.”

“I hate that phrase.”

Osiris and Virginia Dare were sitting on either side of a round pool in a small enclosed courtyard. Overhead, a patterned silk awning protected them from the slanting sunshine. The air was bright with flowers and heavy with perfume. Virginia had grown up in the forest and later trained as a botanist and horticulturalist, yet she recognized few of the plants. Enormous water lilies covered the surface of the pool,
and almost transparent thumbnail-sized frogs moved slowly across the leaves, following the sun. The frogs hissed like cats.

Osiris had changed into a loose white linen shirt and white trousers that ended high above his ankles. His feet were bare, and the American immortal noted that his toenails were painted black.

“What happened with the anpu?” Osiris asked.

Virginia’s slate-gray eyes blinked gold as she looked away from the table. “Oh, that,” she said lightly. “They got in my way.”

“They would have stepped out of your way if you had identified yourselves. It was a mistake.” Osiris smiled, but it was nothing more than a movement of his lips, and there was no genuine emotion in it.

“Their mistake was trying to stop me.”

“Do you usually deal so harshly with those who get in your way?”

“Yes.” Her smile matched the Elder’s. “I resent anyone—or anything—who attempts to curtail my liberty.”

“I will remember that.”

“Do. I grew up with nothing. No clothes, no food, no money, no possessions. All I had was my liberty. I learned to value it.”

Osiris steepled his hands before his face. “You are an interesting person, Virginia Dare.”

“Not really. I’m actually very simple, and my rule is equally simple: stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours.”

“I will remember that also.”

Sophie’s laugher rang out and they both turned toward
the sound. Through a wall of glass, they caught a glimpse of Sophie and Josh exploring the vast circular house.

“First time I’ve heard her laugh,” the immortal remarked, then turned back to the Elder, eyeing him carefully. “Their arrival here was not a surprise. I get the impression that we are nearing the end of a plan that was laid down a long time ago.”

Osiris sat back in a chair that had been carved from a block of solid gold and steepled his hands before his face again. “You are very astute.”

“Underestimate me at your peril.” She smiled. “My Elder master did—and you know what happened to him.”

“I wonder if you would be so brave without your flute,” Osiris commented.

Virginia reached under her shirt and produced the simple wooden flute. She shook it out of its cloth bag and sunlight shivered across the spiral designs etched into the wood. Osiris stiffened, and she noted how his hand dropped to the sides of the chair. She guessed there was a weapon concealed in one of the armrests—a knife or throwing star, probably. Suddenly she tossed the flute at the Elder.

Osiris snatched the instrument out of the air—and then hissed as the flesh of his palm sizzled and smoked. He flung the flute toward the pool, but Virginia caught it, spun it once to make it sing and tucked it into its bag and back beneath her clothes in one smooth movement.

Osiris dropped to his knees and pushed his hand into the water. “You could have warned me,” he said.

“If I’d told you that you wouldn’t be able to hold it, would you have believed me?”

“Probably not,” he admitted.

“A demonstration is worth a thousand words.”

“I’ve come across such artifacts before,” Osiris told her. “Some are Earthlord or Archon. I’ve never been able to work out why the Elders cannot touch them. Do you know?”

“Yes, I do,” she said simply.

“But you’re not going to tell me?”

“No, I’m not.”

Osiris returned to the golden chair and sat down, his right hand dripping water on the white flagstones. “Miss Dare, what a revelation you are,” he murmured. “I suddenly realize that for centuries I have been dealing with the wrong humani agent. Dee was a fool—a useful fool, admittedly. But we should have been dealing with you.”

Virginia Dare shook her head. “You were always able to control the doctor. You would not have been able to control me.”

Osiris nodded. “Maybe so. But we would have dealt with you differently.”

“Honestly, you mean?”

“We were always honest with him,” the Elder said sincerely. “He was rarely as honest with us; you must know that.”

“Why do you need the twins?”

Osiris brought his burnt hand to his lips and licked at the wound. Brilliant blue eyes regarded her evenly. Then he suddenly grinned. “I could tell you, but then I would have to kill you,” he said.

“If you don’t tell me, I might kill you.” Virginia matched his smile once again.

“You could try.”

“I could. But you really don’t want me to,” Virginia said.

Sophie’s and Josh’s voices suddenly echoed through the house, and Osiris and Virginia turned toward the sound. The voices grew louder as the twins approached.

“Here’s what I think,” Virginia said quietly. “You need their auras. You need the power of Gold and Silver for something. Something spectacular. Am I right?”

“You are not wrong,” Osiris conceded.

“There’s only one thing troubling me,” she said.

Osiris’s face remained expressionless as he continued to lick his hand.

“Are you really their parents?”

“They are our children,” he said after considering his answer. “We have spent a lifetime preparing them for this.”

Q
uetzalcoatl detested the damp. He was wearing a heavy wool three-piece suit he’d bought in London a century ago, and had wrapped himself in a three-quarter-length black leather coat with the high collar turned up. A patterned thermal scarf encircled his neck and covered the lower part of his mouth, and he wore a black fedora with a spray of feathers from his own tail in the band. His hands were sheathed in fur-lined gloves. Yet he was still freezing. He hated this Shadowrealm.

The Feathered Serpent turned as an enormous black Cadillac with darkened windows pulled into the deserted parking lot at Vista Point Overlook. Its gleaming bodywork was speckled with millions of water droplets.

Quetzalcoatl half raised his hand, then, realizing that he was probably invisible in the gloom and fog, self-consciously dropped it again. He was beginning to regret his earlier
impulsive action. He had survived this long because he was a loner; he rarely mixed with his own kind. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d encountered someone from his very distant past. It was always easier to deal with the human servants; he could control them.

A smartly suited driver wearing a peaked cap climbed out of the car. Quetzalcoatl thought there was something wrong with the way he—though it could just as easily have been a she—walked, and when the driver turned his head, the Elder thought he caught the glimpse of bulging solid black eyes. The driver removed his hat, revealing a bald head and overlong bat ears, before opening the rear door.