The Sorceress (5 page)

“They are in London,” John Dee continued. “And Britain, more than any other land on this earth, is
our
country,” he stressed. “Unlike in Paris, we have allies there: Elders, Next Generation, immortals and humani servants who will aid us. And in England there are others, loyal to none but themselves, whose services can be bought. All of these resources can be directed to finding Flamel and the twins.” He finished and leaned forward, staring intently at the phone, waiting for an answer.

The line clicked and went dead. Then an irritating busy signal filled the room.

Dee stared at the phone with a mixture of shock and anger. “Have we lost the connection or have they just hung up on us?”

Machiavelli hit the Speaker button, silencing the noise. “Now you know how I feel when you hang up on me,” he said quietly.

“What do we do now?” Dee demanded.

“We wait. I would imagine they are discussing our futures.”

Dee folded his arms over his narrow chest. “They need us,” he said, trying—and failing—to sound confident.

Machiavelli’s smile was bitter. “They use us. But they do not need us. I know of at least a dozen immortals in Paris alone who could do what I do.”

“Well, yes,
you
are replaceable,” Dee said with a self-satisfied shrug. “But
I
have spent a lifetime chasing Nicholas and Perenelle.”

“You mean you’ve spent a lifetime failing to catch them,” Machiavelli said, his voice neutral, and then added with a sly smile, “So close, and yet always so far.”

But any reply Dee was about to make was cut off when the phone rang.

“This is our decision.”
It was Dee’s Elder master speaking, the male-female voices blending together into one slightly discordant voice.
“The Magician will follow the Alchemyst and the twins to England. Your instructions are explicit: destroy Flamel, capture the twins and retrieve the two missing pages. Use whatever means necessary to achieve this objective; we have
associates in England who are indebted to us. We will call in those debts. And Doctor … if you fail us this time, then we will temporarily remove the gift of immortality and allow your humani body to age to its very limit … and then, at the moment before your death, we will make you immortal again.”
There was a rasp that might have been a chuckle or an indrawn breath.
“Think about how that will feel: your brilliant mind trapped in an ancient and feeble body, unable to see or hear clearly, unable to walk or move, in constant pain from a score of ailments. You will be forever ancient and yet undying. Fail us and this will be your destiny. We will trap you in this aged fleshy shell for an eternity.”

Dee nodded, swallowed hard and then said with as much confidence as he could muster, “I will not fail you.”

“And you, Niccolò …”
Machiavelli’s Elder master spoke.
“You will travel to the Americas. The Sorceress is loose on Alcatraz. Do whatever you must to secure the island.”

“But I have no contacts in San Francisco,” Machiavelli protested quickly, “no allies. Europe has always been my domain.”

“We have agents all across the Americas. Even now they are moving westward to await your arrival. We will instruct one to guide and assist you. On Alcatraz, you will find an army of sorts sleeping in the cells, creatures the humani will recognize from their darkest nightmares and foulest myths. It was not our intention to use this army so soon, but events are moving quickly now, much faster than we anticipated. Soon it will be the Time of Litha, the summer solstice. At midsummer, the twins’ auras
will be at their strongest and the barriers between this world and the myriad Shadowrealms at their weakest. It is our intention to reclaim the world of the humani on that day.”

Even Machiavelli was unable to keep his face expressionless. He looked at Dee and found that the Magician too was wide-eyed with shock. Both men had worked for the Dark Elders for centuries and had always known that they intended to return to the world they had once ruled. Still, it was startling to discover that after years of waiting and planning, it was about to happen in just over three weeks’ time.

Dr. John Dee leaned closer to the phone. “Masters—and I know I speak for Machiavelli when I say this—we are delighted that the Time of the Turning is almost upon us and that you will soon return.” He swallowed hard and took a quick breath. “But if you will allow me to caution you: the world you are returning to is not the world you left. The humani have technology, communications, weapons … they will resist,” he added hesitantly.

“Indeed they will, Doctor,”
Machiavelli’s master said.
“So we will give the humani something to focus on, something to use up their resources and consume their attention. Niccolò,”
the voice continued,
“when you have retaken Alcatraz, rouse the monsters in the cells and then loose them on the city of San Francisco. The destruction and terror will be indescribable. And when the city is a smoking ruin, allow the creatures to wander as they will. They will ravage across America. Mankind has always been fearful of the dark: we will remind him why. There are similar caches of creatures already hidden on every continent; they will be released at the same time. The world will
quickly dissolve into madness and chaos. Entire armies will be wiped out, so that there will be none to stand against us when we return. And what will be our first action? Why, we will destroy the monsters and be hailed by the humani as their saviors.”

“And these beasts are in Alcatraz’s cells?” Machiavelli asked, appalled. “How do I rouse them?”

“You will be given instructions when you reach the Americas. But first, you have to defeat Perenelle Flamel.”

“How do we know she is still there? If she has escaped her cell, surely she will have fled the island?” The Italian was aware that his heart was suddenly pounding; three hundred years ago he had sworn vengeance on the Sorceress. Was he now about to be given an opportunity for revenge?

“She is still on the island. She has released Areop-Enap, the Old Spider. It is a dangerous foe, but not invincible. We have taken steps to neutralize it and ensure that Perenelle will remain there until you arrive. And Niccolò”
—the Elder’s voice turned hard and ugly—
“do not repeat Dee’s mistake.”

The Magician straightened.

“Do not attempt to capture or imprison Perenelle. Do not talk to her, bargain with her or try to reason with her. Kill her on sight. The Sorceress is infinitely more dangerous than the Alchemyst.”

he early-morning sky over Alcatraz was the color of dirty metal. Flecks of ice-cold rain hissed across the island, and the churning sea pounding against the rocks sent bitter salty foam high into the air.

Perenelle Flamel ducked back into the shelter of the ruin of the Warden’s House. She rubbed her hands up and down her bare arms, brushing away droplets of salty moisture. She was wearing a light sleeveless summer dress, now soiled with mud and rust, but the tall elegant woman wasn’t cold. Although she’d been reluctant to use her waning powers, she had adjusted her aura, bringing her body temperature up to a comfortable level. She knew if she got too cold, she wouldn’t be able to think clearly, and she had a feeling she was going to need all her resources in the hours to come.

Four days ago, Perenelle Flamel had been kidnapped by John Dee and imprisoned on Alcatraz. Her guard, a sphinx,
had been chosen for its special ability to feed off others’ auras—the energy fields that surround every living thing. The English Magician had hoped the sphinx would drain Perenelle’s aura and prevent her from escaping, but as Dee had done so often in the past, he had underestimated Perenelle’s abilities and powers. With the help of the island’s guardian ghost, the Sorceress had been able to escape the sphinx. It was only then that she discovered the island’s terrible secret: Dee had been collecting monsters. The prison cells were filled with horrific creatures from all over the earth, creatures most humans believed existed only in the darkest corners of myth and legend. But the most surprising discovery had lain in the hidden tunnels deep beneath the island. There, trapped behind magical symbols older than even the Elders, she had found the creature known as Areop-Enap, the Old Spider. The two had formed an uneasy alliance and defeated the Morrigan, the Crow Goddess, and her army of birds. But they knew that worse was to come.

“This weather is not natural,” Perenelle said softly, the merest trace of her French accent audible in her voice. She breathed deeply and grimaced. To her heightened sense of smell, the wind coming in off San Francisco Bay was tainted with the odor of something foul and long dead, a sure sign that it was abnormal.

Areop-Enap was perched high on a wall of the empty building. The enormous bloated spider was busy sheathing the shell of the house with a sticky white web. Millions of spiders, some as big as plates, others little more than specks of dirt, scuttled across the massive web in an undulating dark
shadow, adding their own layers of silk to the dripping web. Without turning its head, the Elder swiveled two of its eight eyes to focus on the woman. It raised one of its thick legs straight up in the air, gray-tipped purple hair waving in the breeze. “Aye, something’s coming … but not Elder, and not humani, either,” it lisped.

“Something’s already here,” Perenelle said grimly.

Areop-Enap turned to look down at Perenelle. Eight tiny eyes were perched on the top of its eerily humanlike head. It had no nose or ears, and its mouth was a horizontal slash filled with long poisonous fangs. The savage teeth gave it a curious lisping speech. “What happened?” it asked suddenly, dropping to the ground on a gossamer thread.

Perenelle picked her way across the stone floor, trying to avoid the knotted strands of spiderweb that stuck to everything they touched. They had the consistency of chewing gum. “I was down at the water’s edge,” she said quietly. “I wanted to see how far we were from land.”

“Why?” Areop-Enap asked, stepping closer to the woman, towering over her.

“I learned a spell many years ago from an Inuit shaman. It changes the consistency of running water, turning it to something like thick sticky mud. Effectively, it allows you to walk on water. Inuits use it when they’re hunting polar bears out on ice floes. I wanted to see if it worked on warm salt water.”

“And?” Areop-Enap asked.

“I didn’t get a chance to try it.” Perenelle shook her head. Gathering her long mane of black hair in her hands, she pulled it over her shoulder. Usually, she wore it in a tight
thick braid, but it hung loose now, and it was shot through with more silver and gray than even the day before. “Look.”

Areop-Enap stepped closer. Each of its legs was thicker than the woman’s torso, and tipped with a hooked spike, but it moved without making a sound.

Perenelle held out a hank of hair. A four-inch-long chunk had been neatly cut from it. “I was leaning over the water, gathering my aura to try the spell, when something came up out of the water with barely a ripple. Its jaws sliced right through my hair.”

Old Spider hissed softly. “Did you see it?”

“A glimpse, nothing more. I was too busy scrambling back up the beach.”

“A serpent?”

Perenelle reverted to the French of her youth. “No. A woman. Green-skinned, with teeth … lots of tiny teeth. I caught the flash of a fish’s tail as it dipped back into the water.” Perenelle shook her head and dropped her hair, settling it back over her shoulder, then looked up at the Elder. “Was it a mermaid? I’ve never seen one of the seafolk.”

“Unlikely,” Areop-Enap muttered. “Though it might have been one of the wilder Nereids.”

“The sea nymphs … but they are far from home.”

“Yes. They do prefer the warmer waters of the Mediterranean, but the oceans of the world are their home. I’ve encountered them everywhere, even amongst the icebergs of the Antarctic. There are fifty Nereids, and they always travel together … which suggests to me that this island is most likely completely surrounded. We’ll not escape by sea. But
that is not the greatest of our concerns,” Areop-Enap lisped. “If the Nereids are here, then that probably means that their father, Nereus, is close as well.”