The Warlock (The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel #5) (40 page)

Dee jabbed a finger into the nearest cell. It was empty. Virginia stepped closer and discovered the pile of white dust in the corner.

“I don’t even know what was in the cell—some winged monstrosity. Giant vampire bat, I think. I said the words, and the creature opened its eyes and immediately crumbled to dust.”

“Maybe you said a word wrong?” Virginia suggested. She plucked a scrap of paper from Josh’s hands. “I mean, it looks difficult.”

“I am fluent,” Dee snapped.

“He is,” Machiavelli said, “I will give him that. And his accent is very good too, though not quite as good as mine.”

Dee spun back to the cell holding Machiavelli. “Tell me what went wrong.”

Machiavelli seemed to be considering it; then he shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

Dee jerked his thumb at the sphinx. “Right now she’s
absorbing your aura, ensuring that you cannot use any spells against me. But she’ll be just as happy eating your flesh. Isn’t that true?” he said, looking up into the creature’s female face.

“Oh, I love Italian,” she rumbled. She stepped away from Dee and dipped her head to look into the opposite cell. “Give me this one,” she said, nodding at Billy the Kid. “He’ll make a tasty snack.” Her long black forked tongue flickered in the air before the outlaw, who immediately grabbed it, jerked it forward and allowed it to snap back like an elastic band. She screamed, coughed, and squawked all at the same time.

Billy grinned. “I’ll make sure I’ll choke you on the way down.”

“It might be difficult to do that if you have no arms,” the sphinx said thickly, working her tongue back and forth.

“I’ll still give you indigestion.”

Dee looked at Machiavelli. “Tell me,” he said again, “or I will feed your young American friend to the beast.”

“Tell him nothing,” Billy yelled.

“This is one of those occasions when I am in agreement with Billy. I am going to tell you nothing.”

The Magician looked from one side of the cell to the other. Then he looked at Machiavelli. “What happened to you? You were one of the Dark Elders’ finest agents in this Shadowrealm. There were times you even made me look like an amateur.”

“John, you were always an amateur.” Machiavelli smiled. “Why, look at the mess you’re in now.”

“Mess? What mess? I’m not in a mess.” Dee’s eyes started
to dance wildly, and a giggle bubbled up from his chest. “You have no idea what I’ve planned. It is, not to put too fine a point on it, masterful.”

“Your arrogance will be your downfall, John,” Machiavelli said. He turned away from the cell door and lay down on the narrow cot.

“I will kill the outlaw,” Dee said suddenly. “I will feed him to the sphinx.”

Machiavelli remained lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

“Do you want me to do it?” Dee screamed at Machiavelli. “Do you want me to kill Billy the Kid?” He leaned against the cell and looked in on Machiavelli. “What! No last-minute attempt to save your new friend?”

“I can save Billy and condemn thousands to death, or I can condemn Billy and save thousands,” the Italian said quietly. “What do you think I should do, Billy?” he called out.

The outlaw stepped up to the bars of the cell. “When I went to school—which I did for a bit—we were taught a saying that really stuck with me. ‘It is better that one man die for the people than that the whole nation perish.’ ”

Niccolò Machiavelli nodded. “I like that. Yes, I like that very much.” Then he turned his head away from Dee. “You have your answer.”

Dee spun back to the sphinx. “He’s yours.”

The creature’s long black tongue snapped out and wrapped around Billy’s throat, pulling him in hard against the bars. “Lunch,” the sphinx rasped.

A single pure note rang out in the cellblock, and the sphinx collapsed into an ungainly heap on the floor. “No,” Virginia breathed.

Billy crashed back into his cell, both hands holding his neck, which now had a solid red stripe around it. He was gasping for air.

Dee was speechless with rage. His mouth kept opening and closing, but no sound came out other than a hissing breath.

“John, be reasonable,” Virginia said. “I’ve known Billy a very long time, and we have had some great adventures together. He’s as close as I have to a friend. When he dies, which he will, sooner or later, because he can be so stupid,” she added, glaring at the American immortal, “it should be with a degree of dignity, rather than being fed to this … this
thing.
”

“Thanks,” Billy wheezed.

“You’re welcome. And you owe me.”

“I’ll remember.”

Virginia turned back to Dee. “I’ll make a deal.”

“For what?” he demanded.

“For Billy’s life,” she said evenly.

“Do you forget who you’re dealing with?” Dee snarled.

“Do
you
?” she asked softly.

Dr. John Dee drew in a deep shuddering breath. He took a step backward, hit the heavy bulk of the sphinx and sat down hard on the ground at her feet. A strong musky miasma swirled around him. “A deal …,” he coughed.

“A deal.”

“What can you offer me?”

Virginia twirled her flute in her fingers, the sudden movement sending a quartet of notes rushing through it. They hung heavy on the air.

And then movement rustled through every cell.

Dee shot to his feet. He darted from one side of the cellblock to the other. All the creatures were stirring. “You can do this? You can awaken them?”

Virginia twirled her flute. “Of course. Usually I put things to sleep, but the same song, reversed, brings them awake again. This is obviously nothing more than a simple Somnus spell.”

Josh stepped away from Virginia and peered into the nearest cell. Something with fur, feathers and scales lay curled in a heap. But even as he watched, a shudder ran through it.

“Virginia,” Billy said urgently. “Don’t do this.”

“Shut up, Billy.”

“Think of the people in San Francisco.”

“I don’t know any of the people in San Francisco,” Virginia answered, then paused. “Well, actually I do, and I don’t like them. But I do like you, Billy, and I’m not going to allow you to end up as lunch for some raggedy lion-monster-thingy.”

“A sphinx,” Machiavelli corrected her. He was standing at the bars again. “Mistress Dare,” the Italian said carefully. “I absolutely applaud you for what you want to do for your friend. But I urge you to think of the bigger picture.”

“Oh, but you are mistaken, Italian,” Dee said quickly. “Virginia
is
thinking of the bigger picture. Aren’t you, dear?”

Virginia smiled. “The doctor has promised me the world,” she said quietly. “In fact, he has promised me
all
the worlds.”

And then she put the flute to her mouth and the scent of sage wafted through the cellblock as a beautiful, delicate and ethereal melody bounced off its walls.

Josh felt Clarent tremble in time to the music, vibrating and pulsing to the ancient rhythm. And then Durendal, still strapped to his back, started to throb against his flesh like a heart.

And Josh felt a terrible hunger, accompanied by a ferocious rage, burn through him. It washed through his body, until a red mist actually drifted across his eyes, and he was looking at the world through a film of crimson. His aura blazed, the gold touched with streaks of bloodred. Sparks crackled off the cell bars, spitting, hissing off the metal, crackling in time to Virginia’s eldritch music.

And then all the creatures in the cells came awake.

he wind whipping around the crystal tower was icy and tainted with the stink of battle and broken metal, but none of the group standing on the battle-scarred and blood-streaked platform seemed to feel the chill.

Abraham the Mage, a being more gold than flesh, stood in the chipped doorway, a copper-bound book held to his chest with his right hand. His left was frozen into solid gold by his side. Tsagaglalal stood next to him, supporting him. When he smiled, only half of his face moved, and a pale gold liquid leaked from his single gray eye.

“My friends,” he said, obviously in pain. “I feel I can call you that. Even though this is the first time I am seeing some of you in the flesh, I have seen you all lo these many centuries. I have followed you through the present and into your futures. I know what tricks of fate and quirks of circumstance brought you here. And in truth, I was responsible for some of
them.” He drew in a deep ragged breath and his chest moved slowly.

“Prometheus—my oldest friend: you brought so many great gifts into my life, including my dear wife, Tsagaglalal, and her irrepressible brother, Gilgamesh. I count both of you as my own brothers, the family I never had. Both of you know what must be done.”

The two men bowed, unashamed of the tears on their faces.

Half of Abraham’s face moved in a smile. “I am now and will eternally be grateful.” Although his neck remained stiff, his eye moved. “Joan of Arc … what a history you have. What a life you have led.”

The Frenchwoman bowed her head slightly, eyes still fixed on Abraham’s face.

“Soon you will fight for all you hold dear, and you will be forced to make a choice that will threaten to tear you apart. Follow your heart, Joan. Be as strong as you have always been.”

Joan reached for her husband’s hand and squeezed.

“And what of you, Saint-Germain? I recall when I first discovered that your life intersected with Joan’s, I thought it was a mistake. I spent a month checking and rechecking my data, looking for the error. But there was none. You are, in your heart, a simple man, Saint-Germain. You are a rogue and you know it. But this I know for a certainty—you have always loved Joan with all of your being.”

Saint-Germain nodded and Joan glanced sidelong at him and squeezed his hand again.

“You will know what to do when the time comes. Do not hesitate.

“Palamedes the Saracen Knight and William Shakespeare. Another unlikely pairing, and again I thought my research was incorrect. But when I checked and discovered that you were both in search of the same thing—family—I knew I was not wrong. You are here today because soon we will need your special skills: your imagination, Bard, and Palamedes, he will need you to protect him. I know you would give your life for him.” Abraham raised his head slightly to where the Rukma still hovered in the air. “Just as he was prepared to give his life for all of you.”

Shakespeare dipped his head, then pulled off his glasses and furiously polished them, so that no one would see the flush of color on his cheeks.

“And Scathach. The Shadow. For ten thousand years I have watched you. I could fill a library with your adventures and another with your mistakes. You are, without doubt, the most infuriating, irresponsible, dangerous, loyal and courageous person I have ever encountered. The world would be a poorer place without you. You have given much to the humani, and they have not given you back as much as you deserve. But I have a gift for you. It is in two parts, and the first part I will share with you now. The second part … well, it may have to wait for another place and another time. Here is my gift: your sister lives. She is trapped now in a Shadowrealm with Coatlicue the Archon. You should know that she went there willingly, sacrificing herself to keep you safe.”

The Shadow swallowed hard, fists opening and closing
tightly. Her skin was the color of chalk and her eyes blazed green.

“You are her only hope of rescue. Remember that. Hold on to it, even when all seems lost. You must live.”

Scathach nodded.

“Now you must go,” Abraham finished. “Go back to Danu Talis and destroy this world.” Then, as quietly as he had appeared, he turned and, flanked by Tsagaglalal and Gilgamesh, disappeared back into the tower.

Without a word, Prometheus pulled himself up the dangling rope into the Rukma vimana. The craft shuddered, then slowly dipped until it was level with the edge of the platform. One by one, the four human immortals walked out onto the wing and climbed into the craft.

Only Scathach remained. She had turned to face south, to where the lights of the distant city of Danu Talis lit up the clouds. Her clan, the Clan Vampire, were supposedly incapable of any real emotion and were certainly incapable of tears, so why, then, was there liquid on her cheeks? It could only be spray from the sea far below, she decided. Brushing it away, she turned, climbed onto the wing and swung herself into the craft.