The Warlock (The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel #5) (36 page)

Tsagaglalal nodded. “Both my brother and Prometheus were always by my husband’s side. I wonder what he saw?”

“The formula of words that confers immortality,” Sophie said. “And when Josh and I asked why he wanted it, since he was already immortal—”

“To reverse the formula,” Tsagaglalal answered. “It might work. He could become mortal again, he might even regain his memories and remember me,” the old woman breathed. “We could become human again and die in peace.”

“Human again?” Sophie asked. She was suddenly reminded of something the old woman had said earlier. “You’re not an Elder,” she said, “and you’re not an Archon or an Ancient. What are you?”

“Why, Sophie,” Tsagaglalal said with a sad smile, “why do you think the Codex was created so that the Elders could not bear it and only humani could hold it? Gilgamesh and I are humani. We were among the first of the First People brought to life by Prometheus’s aura in the Nameless City on the edge of the world. Now the First People are no more.
Only Gilgamesh and I remain. And only one thing is left for me to do,” the old woman added.

The girl sat back against the apple tree and folded her arms. She knew what her aunt was about to offer. “Can I refuse?”

“You can,” Tsagaglalal said, surprising her. “But if you do, then tens of thousands of people who lived and died through time in order to protect you will have died in vain. All those people who guarded the Codex, the previous generations of twins, the Elders and Next Generation who sided with the humani—all will have died in vain.”

“And the world will end,” Sophie added.

“That too.”

“And did your husband see that?”

“I do not know,” Tsagaglalal said. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but she had no tears left to shed. “The Change was surging through his body in those last days, turning it to solid gold. Speech became impossible. I am sure he would have found a way to tell me … but then Danu Talis was destroyed in the Final Battle.” Tsagaglalal turned away from Sophie and her gaze followed a fat droning bumblebee as it buzzed around the clearing, dropping onto the grass where moments earlier jasmine flowers had blossomed and died. “Abraham and Chronos saw many lines of history, and each of those lines was created by individual decisions. Often it was impossible to tell—except in the very broadest sense—who had done what. That is why the original prophecy is so vague—‘one to save the world, one to destroy it.’ I do not know
which one you are, Sophie.” She pointed back toward the house with her chin. “There is one other tablet in the box, and it is addressed to your brother.”

Sophie gasped in shock as the realization struck home.

Tsagaglalal nodded. “Yes, it could just as easily have been Josh I was talking to now, while Sophie Newman stood alongside Dee and Dare on Alcatraz. But there will come a moment—and soon—when you must choose. And the choice you make will dictate the future of the world and the countless Shadowrealms.” She saw the stricken look on Sophie’s face and reached over to rest her palm against her cheek. “Forget what you know—or think you know—and trust your instincts. Follow your heart. Trust no one.”

“But Josh. What about him? I’ll be able to trust him, won’t I?” Sophie said in alarm.

“Follow your heart,” Tsagaglalal repeated. “Now close your eyes and let me teach you about the Magic of Earth.”

irginia Dare sat on the huge steps in the recreation yard of Alcatraz prison and looked out toward the city over the high wire-topped walls. Josh sat beside her.

“I wonder how close the Lotan is,” he said.

Virginia shook her head. “Hard to tell, but trust me, when it arrives we’ll know. I imagine we’ll hear the screams from here.”

“Where do you think it will come ashore?”

“I have no idea. It’s big, but I don’t think it’s that heavy. Currents run fast here. That’s another reason this place was chosen as a prison. Even if someone did manage to get out of their cell, they wouldn’t survive the water.” She pointed to the Bay Bridge. “I imagine the Lotan will be swept toward the bridge before it manages to swim to shore.”

“Will it cause much destruction before the Elders arrive?” Josh asked.

Dare shrugged, a movement that sent her hair rippling down her back. “It depends how long they wait before intervening.” Then she frowned. “In the old days, people would summon the Elders by praying to them, but no one believes in the Elders anymore, so no one is going to summon them. So yes, there will probably be quite a bit of chaos. The Lotan will eat any meat that comes its way, though I’m not sure how much bigger it could get. It will also drink the aura of any Elder, Next Generation or immortal who gets too close. You saw what happened to Billy.”

Josh shivered at the memory and nodded.

“If you hadn’t intervened, it would have drained him to a husk. However,” she continued, “the Lotan has such a short life span. It had three hours to live when it was set loose—it will have four if it continues to feed—before it starts to shrink back into its shell.”

A foul stink suddenly wafted across the yard, blanketing the sea air.

Virginia’s hand shot out and gripped Josh’s arm as a creature straight out of legend padded across the exercise yard, claws click-clacking on the stones. It was a sphinx, an enormous lion with the wings of an eagle and the head of a beautiful woman. The sphinx turned to look at Virginia and Josh, and a long black tongue flickered out of its mouth, tasting the air.

Josh dropped his hand onto the stone sword he’d placed on the steps and Virginia slowly and deliberately raised her flute to her lips.

The sphinx turned and scuttled away without saying a word.

“Now,” Virginia continued, as if nothing had happened. “You wish to learn the Magic of Air?”

“I do.”

“I need to tell you,” she said, “that I’ve never done this before. But I’ve seen it done.”

“And how did that go?”

“It went well … most of the time.” Josh looked at her quickly.

“I saw an immortal—it might have been Saint-Germain—try to teach another immortal the Magic of Fire.” She stopped and shook her head.

“What happened?”

“Well, let us say that there was a bit of a mishap.”

“Saint-Germain taught Sophie fire magic,” Josh said. “And she didn’t burst into flames?”

“She didn’t.”

“So he’s obviously gotten better at it. And who taught you?”

“Prometheus.”

“Impressive,” Virginia said. She pushed back her sleeves and picked up her flute. “Now, I know there is a certain formula of words that are used when students are being taught the Elemental Magics, about how each magic is stronger than the other—but I’m afraid I don’t know those words, and I don’t believe them anyway. What you have to remember is that no matter who taught you, magic is as strong
as the will of the user and the strength of their aura. Great emotions—love, hate, terror—intensify any magical working. But be careful. These same emotions raging through your body can also consume your aura. And once your aura is gone, then so are you!” She clapped her hand suddenly, the sound sending seagulls soaring. “Now look up at the skies,” she commanded.

Josh leaned back, resting his elbows on the step behind him, and looked up into the afternoon sky.

“What do you see?”

“Clouds. Birds. An airplane contrail.”

“Pick a cloud, any cloud …,” she said, and her words trembled through her flute with little whistling sounds.

Josh focused on a cloud. He thought it looked like a face … or a dog … or maybe a dog’s face.…

“Magic has to do with imagination,” Virginia said, her words rising and falling with the notes of the flute. The air filled with the scent of sage. “Did you ever meet Albert Einstein? … No, no of course you didn’t. You’re too young. He was a remarkable man, and we remained good friends throughout his life. He knew what I was; he once said to me that the stories I told him about my immortality and the Shadowrealms inspired his interest in time and relativity.”

“He’s always been one of my heroes,” Josh said.

“Then you will know that he said that imagination is more important than knowledge. For knowledge is limited to all we now know and understand, while imagination embraces the entire world, and all there ever will be to know and understand.” She laughed and her flute turned the sound
beautiful. “I offered to find someone to make him immortal, but he wasn’t interested.” Virginia’s music changed, becoming wild and dramatic, like a storm over the ocean. “Look at the cloud and tell me what you see.”

The cloud had shifted, twisted. “A sailboat,” Josh breathed.

The music crashed and swelled.

“With waves washing over it …”

And the music stopped.

“It’s gone.” Josh blinked in surprise. He’d watched the cloud twist and roil in the air, then disappear.

“But I didn’t make it disappear,” Virginia said. “You did. The music planted the images in your brain and you saw the boat in the storm, and then your imagination filled in everything else and when the music stopped, you imagined the boat had sunk.” She pointed with the wooden flute. “See that cloud?”

Josh nodded.

“Watch it,” Virginia Dare said. Pressing her flute to her lips, she played a long, slow, gentle lullaby.

“Nothing’s happened to it.”

“Not yet,” the immortal said. “But that’s not my fault. It’s yours.” The flute echoed and reechoed in his head, the notes striking memories, bringing up fragments of songs he’d heard in the past, snatches of dialogue from movies and TV programs he’d seen. The sounds wrapped around him like a blanket, and he felt his eyes grow heavy and gritty with sleep. “Look at the cloud again.”

“Sleepy,” Josh mumbled.

“Look,” Virginia commanded.

The cloud was curling and squirming, and Josh realized that it was forming pictures of the images he was seeing in his head, faces of movie stars and singers, characters from games he’d played.

“You are doing that,” Virginia breathed. “Now focus. Think of something you hate.…”

The cloud suddenly grew larger, darker, and abruptly it fell from the sky, a long wriggling python.

Josh shouted, and the cloud dissolved.

“Again,” Virginia directed. “Something you love.” The music swirled and howled.

Josh tried to form his sister’s face in the cloud, but couldn’t see it clearly enough and the cloud ended up looking like a blob. He refocused and the blob turned into an orange, which transformed into a golden ball, which flattened to become a page covered in tiny shifting sticklike writing.…

“Very good,” Virginia said. “Now look across the yard.”

Josh sat up straight and looked to the wall at the far side of the recreation yard.

“It is covered in dirt,” Virginia said. She took a deep breath and a gust of wind whistled across the open space, curling the dust in the air. “Imagine something,” she commanded.

“Like?”

“A snake,” she suggested.

“I hate snakes.”

“So you should be able to see them clearly in your imagination. We always find it easier to visualize what we fear; it’s what keeps us afraid of the dark.”

Josh looked at the swirling twist of dust, and instantly it changed, gathering into a thick rope of grit that curled into a red-and-black-patterned garter snake. Josh remembered seeing it in the San Francisco Zoo. Instantly the snake dissolved into the distinctive animal and tree logo of the zoo.

“You need to concentrate,” Virginia said firmly. “You created the snake, then you remembered where you saw it; that’s why the image changed.”

Josh nodded. Focus. He needed to focus. Instantly the logo twisted back into the shape of the snake. He visualized it curling to swallow its own tail, and across the yard the coil of dust formed a perfect circle.

“Impressive,” Virginia said. “But now let me tell you the greatest secret of air magic, which, I’ll wager, the Witch of Endor did not teach your sister.” She smiled. “And don’t tell the doctor that you know this.”

“Why not?” he asked.

Virginia reached out and poked Josh in the chest. Paper cracked. “We all have our secrets, Josh.”

Josh pressed his hand against his T-shirt, startled. Beneath it, in a cloth bag around his neck, he carried the last two pages from the Codex. He started to panic, wondering if Dee knew but instantly guessing that Dare must not have told him yet. “How long have you known?” he asked.