The Pyramid of Souls (7 page)

   "A what?"

   "An old woman. A peasant woman. A grandmother. But when I looked at her face, I could see she that was not that old. Then she revealed her true self, and it was Maria, the woman here today with the Shadowkeeper."

   "Who is she?"

   "She is Rasputin's daughter."

   Nick's throat went dry. "What?" he managed to squeak.

   Isabella nodded. "Yes. She is a leader of the Shadowkeepers in her own right. She was once a tiger tamer. She has the animal gift, Nick, but she uses it for evil ends. You saw that beast."

   Nick thought about the Shadowkeeper. And the ravens. And especially the wolf-like creature. It had pointed ears and a long snout—and sharp-looking teeth. Maria had growled to communicate with it, as if she were a beast, too.

   "I guess I hadn't really thought that Shadows could use the animal arts."

   Isabella tucked a stray hair behind her ear. "Theo says that all magic can be used for light or used for dark. They are two sides to the same coin."

   "That creature looked ready to rip us into pieces. And she was just as scary herself."

   "She's even scarier than you think, Nick. She tried to take my essence for that vial around her neck! She collects essence."

   "Essence? What do you mean?"

   "It's a spark. Irina told me that when a Magickeeper is born, a shining star glows deep down inside the child. Part of its flicker is the gift the child inherits, and part is a Magickeeper birthright. Have you not noticed that Magickeepers seem to age differently than humans?"

   Nick nodded. "Yeah. Damian and Theo, they look much younger than they are. And the Grand Duchess—she's reall
y
old, but she's still alive."

   "It's the magic part of us. I have it. You have it. But a child's essence is very powerful, Nick. It's innocent. It's the closest people are in their lifetime to the purity of who they are supposed to be."

   Nick though of all the jars of potions and ingredients in Theo's classroom. "Does Theo have any child essence in a vial?"

   "Of course not! Theo and Damian are honorable. They know better than to mess with the dark arts. But Maria cast a spell on me. Hold my hand."

   Nick reached out and took his cousin's hand. In a flash, he was inside her mind as she relived the spell. He felt a suffocating closeness, the stench of a Shadowkeeper. Isabella fell to the ground—hard. Her head smashed against the paved stones. Above her stood Maria, hissing. Nick felt a terrible pain rushing through him, almost as if his entire body were on fire and poison coursed through his veins. Unable to bear the agony, he released his cousin's hand. "You must have been terrified. You were just a little girl!"

   She nodded as a single tear fell on to her knee. "I don't even remember what happened after that—the last thing I could recall was her standing over me, licking her hideous red lips. But Sascha attacked her—and then the commotion and Sascha's roars brought Irina and Damian."

   "What happened after that?"

   "Maria disappeared. And I was very sick for a long time. It

was worse than having the flu. All I wanted to do was sleep and sleep and sleep. Weeks went by—but eventually, with Theo's potions, I was brought back to health. When I was a little older, I found out that Maria had stolen the essence of another Magickeeper—my great-grandmother, who was gifted in the animal arts. Her tiger died trying to protect her, but it was too late."

   Nick shuddered. In his mind, he saw a tiger fighting a Shadowkeeper, its fur being shredded by the long, evil talons.

   "So their power is stronger than a tiger. Stronger than a polar bear," he said, remembering the time the bears had protected him, their white fur crimson from the blood of their wounds.

   "Yes, Nick."

   "But what would Maria
do
with your essence if she got it?"

   "A captured soul, captured essence, increases their power—and their thirst for blood and all things dark. It helps them live longer, and it can heal them."

   "I'm so glad she didn't get you, Isabella."

   "Me, too. But that is our legacy. Us against them. Going back through time."

   He bit his lip. "This isn't good, Isabella. Why did Maria come here tonight? To try again?"

   She shrugged. "I don't know. We have to tell Irina."

   "Tell me what?"

   Nick and Isabella spun and saw Irina standing behind them, dressed in her usual black riding pants, Russian folk shirt, and vest in a rich, green color that matched her eyes. Sascha crouched by her side.

   Nick stood and held out a hand to Isabella to help her up. They brushed hay off their clothes.

   "Maria was here," Isabella whispered. "We came to the stalls because…" She glanced at Nick.

   "Because we wanted to visit Maslow," Nick blurted. He didn't want Irina to know that they had come to protect the mice alone. She would be upset that they hadn't brought more protection. Of course, now he wished that they had.

   Irina blinked slowly, and she pressed her lips together into a straight and very serious line. "Maria? You two come along. We'll have to tell Damian."

   Nick and Isabella scooped up the mice and left the stall. Out in the courtyard, Irina approached the biggest tiger—his name was Arkady. She leaned over and spoke seriously, in a hushed yet urgent voice, to the tiger in Russian, her voice rising and falling, sounding very angry at times.

   "What is she saying?" Nick asked.

   "I can't hear her," Isabella said.

   When Irina was done, she turned and led Nick and Isabella back toward the hotel.

   "What did you say to Arkady?" Isabella asked.

   Irina stopped, turned slowly, and looked at them. "I told him that if Maria dares to appear in the animal area again, he is not to show her any mercy. Her arrival within days of the convention can only mean one thing: the Shadowkeepers are near."

   She turned around and strode ahead of them so quickly that they had to run to catch up with her. When they got to the family floors of the hotel, Damian came running from his library, his long hair flying behind him.

   "Irina! Kolya! Isabella!" He ran toward them. "Have you heard?"

   Irina nodded. "Yes. Maria was here."

   Damian's face darkened. "No…that cannot be."

   "We saw her," Isabella said solemnly. "Out by the animals. She had a Shadowkeeper with her."

   "This is worse than I feared."

   "What were
you
going to tell us?" Nick asked cautiously.

   "Shadowkeepers have been spotted in nearly every city as the convention draws near. We are certain they are preparing to attack."

   "So what do we do?" Nick asked.

   "We also prepare, cousin. We prepare."

The first day of the convention, Nick and Isabella went down to the lobby of the hotel. Something was wrong. Usually, the hotel was what guests called "breathtaking." Nick remembered the first time he stepped into the perfect re-creation of the majesty of the Tsars and their palaces. Marble floors and columns had delicate veining through their stone in a variety of colors from creamy white to pale pink to rich green. Brocades covered the couches and chairs throughout the lobby, and the dark-wood furniture was edged with bright gilding. The center of the lobby was a perfect replica of the semicircular hall of the Tsar. Its sweeping domes and windows rose opulently, with ornate alabaster carvings at the top of marble columns.

   But on the first day of the convention, their grand and wonderful hotel was a mess.

   Nick surveyed the lobby and scratched his head. Damian was literally flying near the ceiling, circling the lobby until he was no more than a whir. Scaffolding covered the enormous interior one end to the other, scaling the walls. Paint tarps covered furniture. Family members wore the coveralls of construction workers and painters. The place was a disaster.

   Isabella sat down on the grand staircase to watch. "What's going on?"

   "I don't know, but I'm going to go find out," Nick said. He walked over to the sightseeing desk to visit his dad and grandfather. His father was dressed in the familiar Winter Palace uniform—the men wore the uniforms of the Imperial bodyguards from the early 1900s, complete with gold braiding and Romanov eagles. Nick's father looked very proud in his uniform, with his sandy blond hair combed neatly and his gray eyes peering out from beneath his cap. Grandpa, on the other hand, couldn't even close his uniform jacket over his large belly.

   Dad used to be a terrible stage magician, back when they had lived at the Pendragon. He was human, but Nick's mother had been a Magickeeper. His dad had hoped that he could raise Nick anonymously, far from the clan, far from the Shadowkeepers. It was what his mother had wanted.

   But when the Shadowkeepers came after Nick, his dad had agreed with his grandfather—his mom's father—to let Nick be raised with the family in the Winter Palace. He knew that only the Magickeepers could keep him safe. He thought it would be temporary.

   But when the Shadowkeepers had nearly killed Nick, Damian thought it best if his grandpa and father came to live at the hotel, too. Since they were not Magickeepers, they could not live on the top three floors, but they shared a luxurious apartment on the first floor—the nicest place his father had ever lived! And after years of bickering, the two men had learned to be roommates—and now ran a sightseeing business together out of the lobby.

   Nick gestured at the scaffolding and then at his high-flying cousin. "What the
heck
is going on?"

   "The Winter Palace is closed," Nick's dad said.

   "What do you mean, we're closed?"

   His grandfather laughed, and his handlebar mustache wriggled. "We are. What? Was something
important suppose
d to be happening?"

   Nick stared up at the scaffolding. "The convention. People will be arriving soon." Had everyone gone crazy—including Damian? While he certainly didn't feel ready to make Penelope disappear, he had been looking forward to meeting other kids from other countries—Magickeepers from all over the world. But they could hardly have a convention with the hotel in a state of disaster.

"Oh…that," Grandpa said. He started laughing again.

"Dad," Nick pleaded. "What's happening?"

   "If people pull up to the Winter Palace Hotel and Casino, they will see large signs saying, 'Closed for renovations.' Only Magickeepers will be allowed in. We don't need to let the rest of the world know what's going on here."

   Nick knew that Magickeepers never revealed their magic to the outside world. They avoided letting their spells be seen by humans at all costs—unless it was in such a way, like in the casino's show, that the humans thought it was illusion, sleight of hand, or outright trickery.

   "Okay, that explains all the fake construction. But what's Damian doing?"

   "Casting a Spell of Mother Tongue," said Grandpa.

   "A what?"

   "Ever seen the translators at the United Nations?" asked Grandpa.

   "No."

   "Well, suffice it to say that when you gather clans from Egypt, Nigeria, France, Japan, England, Australia, Sweden, Germany, Greece and more, all in one convention, it's like a gathering of the United Nations of Magicians. How would we understand each other? Not everyone speaks the same language."

   "Half the time," Nick muttered, "I don't even understand Damian. And I live here." He'd spent many of his school hours with Theo learning Russian—including the Cyrillic alphabet—but he still hadn't even memorized the letters.

   "Precisely," said Grandpa. "The Spell of Mother Tongue allows everyone to speak their own language—the speech becomes translated in the air so you hear it in your own tongue."

   "So I'll be able to talk to kids from, say, Japan—and know what they're saying? And they'll know what I'm saying?"

   "Exactly, Kolya," his dad said.

   "Dad." Nick lowered his voice. He glanced at the ceiling where Damian was still buzzing by in circles, casting his spell. "Please be careful this week. There was a Shadowkeeper here. In the stall. Out by Maslow."

   His father's face paled. "Does Damian know?"

   "Now he does."

   "Nick…you must also be very careful. I nearly lost you once. I couldn't bear the thought of something happening to you."

   "I'll be fine."

   "Look, son, I know you want to prove yourself as a Magickeeper. I know you want to show the family that you belong here, that you will be as great someday as your cousins. But you are still learning—still training. Damian and Theo have been working at their skills their entire lives. You can't do what they do yet."

   "I promise I'll be fine. It's you I worry about." Nick didn't want to point out the obvious. He had magic—even if he was learning, he had it deep down inside. His father did not— unless Nick wanted to count his dad pulling a rabbit out of a hat or the old pull-a-quarter-from-behind-the-ear trick. And his dad wasn't even very good at those.

   "Your grandfather and I will be very busy this week. We will be taking some of the convention-goers on a trip to the Hoover Dam. You should come. You…"