The Magician (The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel #2) (40 page)

Machiavelli nodded, his face an unreadable mask. “But is that the only reason, Josh?”

The boy looked at him for a long moment before he turned away. Machiavelli was right; it wasn’t the only reason. When he’d held Clarent, he’d briefly experienced a hint of what it must be like to have Awakened senses. For a few moments, he’d felt truly alive, he’d felt complete and more than anything else, he wanted to experience that feeling again.

Dee led them into another tunnel, which was, if anything, even narrower than the first. Josh felt his stomach clench and his heart start to thump. The tunnel turned and twisted downward in a series of slender stairs. The stones here were older, the steps irregularly shaped, the walls soft and crumbling as they brushed past. In some places it was so narrow that Josh had to turn sideways to slip through. He got stuck in a particularly confined corner and immediately started to feel breathless panic bubbling in his chest. Then Dee caught one arm and unceremoniously yanked him through, tearing a long strip off the back of his T-shirt. “Nearly there”, the Magician muttered. He raised his arm slightly and the bobbing ball of silver light rose higher into the air, revealing the tunnel s pitted brickwork.

“Hang on a second; let me catch my breath.” Josh bent over, hands on his knees, breathing deeply. He realized that as long as he concentrated on the ball of light and didn’t think about the walls and ceiling closing in on him, he was OK. “How do you know where we’re going?” he panted. “Have you been here before?”

“I was here once before a long time ago”, Dee said with a grin. “Right now, I’m just following the light.” The harsh white light turned the Magician’s smile into something terrifying.

Josh remembered a trick his football coach had taught him. He wrapped his hands around his stomach and squeezed hard as he breathed in and straightened up. The feeling of queasiness immediately eased. “Who are we going to see?” he asked.

“Patience, humani, patience.” Dee looked past Josh to where Machiavelli was standing. “I’m sure our Italian friend will agree. One of the great advantages of immortality is that one learns patience. There is a saying: good things come to those who wait.”

“Not always good things”, Machiavelli muttered as Dee turned away.

At the end of the narrow tunnel was a low metal door. It looked as if it hadn’t been opened in decades and had rusted solid into the weeping lime stonewall. In the white light, Josh saw that the rust had stained the off-white stone the color of dried blood.

The ball of light bobbed in the air while Dee ran his glowing yellow fingernail around the edge of the door, cutting it out of the frame, the stink of rotten eggs blanketing the odor of sewage.

“What’s through here?” Josh asked. Now that he’d started to get his fear under control, he was beginning to feel a little excitement. Once he was Awakened, he’d slip away and get back to Sophie. He turned to look at Machiavelli, but the Italian shook his head and pointed to Dee. “Dr. Dee?” Josh asked.

Dee broke open the low door and jerked it out of its frame. Soft stone crumbled and flaked away around it. “If I am correct and I almost always am”, the Magician added, “then this will lead us into the Catacombs of Paris.” Dee leaned the door against the wall and then stepped through the opening.

Josh ducked to follow him. “I’ve never heard of them.”

“Few people outside Paris have”, Machiavelli said, “and yet, along with the sewers, they are one of the marvels of this city. Over a hundred seventy miles of mysterious and labyrinthine tunnels. The catacombs were once limestone quarries. And now they are filled”

Josh stepped through the opening, straightened up and looked around.

“…with bones.”

The boy felt something twist in the pit of his stomach and he swallowed hard, a sour and bitter taste at the back of his throat. Directly ahead, as far as he could see in the gloomy tunnel, the walls, the curved ceiling and even the floor were composed of polished human bones.

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. “
Francois?”

“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 fairytales true?”