Nicholas Flamel 1 - The Alchemyst

neck. His voiced echoed slightly in the confined space.

There is no electricity in this house, Dr. John Dee. But we have heard that

you are a magician of note. If you wish to create light, then you are

permitted to do so.

Without a word, Dee stretched out his hand. A blue spark snapped to life in

his palm. It buzzed and hissed, spinning about, then it started to grow, from

the size of a pea to that of a grape. It gave off a cold blue-white light.

Holding his hand out in front of him, Dee started down the stairs.

He began to count the steps as he descended, but quickly gave up, distracted

by the decorations on the walls, the ceiling and even the floor. It was like

stepping into an Egyptian tomb, but, unlike any of the countless tombs he had

seen, where the artwork was faded, chipped and broken and everything was

coated in a fine layer of gritty sand, here the decorations were pristine,

brilliant and complete. The colors, slightly distorted by the blue light he

was carrying, looked as if they had just been laid down, the pictographs and

hieroglyphs were vivid and crisp, the names of gods picked out in thick gold

leaf.

A sudden updraft caused the blue-white ball of light to flicker and dance in

his hand, sending the shadows leaping and darting. Dee s nostrils flared: the

wind carried the stench of something old old and long dead.

The stairs ended in a wide, vaulted cellar. Dee felt something crunch and

snap beneath his feet with his first step. He lowered his hand and the

blue-white light shone across the floor which was covered with countless tiny

white bones, blanketing the ground in an ivory carpet. It took Dee a long

moment before he recognized the bones as those of rats and mice. Some of them

were so old that they crumbled into white powder when he disturbed them, but

others were much newer. Unwilling to ask a question to which he really did

not want an answer, Dee followed his silent guide, bones crunching and

crackling with every step. He lifted his hand high, shedding light across the

chamber. Unlike the stairwell, however, this room was unadorned, the walls

streaked black with moisture, green mold gathering close to the floor,

sprouting fungi dappling the ceiling.

Looks like you have a problem with damp, Dee said unnecessarily, simply to

break the growing silence.

It is of no matter, Senuhet said quietly.

Have you been here long? Dee wondered, glancing around.

In this place? The other man paused, considering. Less than a hundred

years. No time at all, really.

A shape moved in the shadows. And we will not be here much longer. That is

why you are here, isn t it, Dr. Dee? The voice was a cross between a sultry

growl and a purr, shaping the English words with difficulty. Almost against

his will, Dee raised his hand, allowing the light in his palm to illuminate

the tall, slender figure that moved in the gloom. The light moved over bare

feet, toenails black and pointed like claws, then up a heavy white kiltlike

skirt studded with stones and precious jewels, and a chest crisscrossed with

wide straps etched with Egyptian characters and finally reached the head.

Although he knew what he was going to see, Dee couldn t prevent the gasp of

shock from escaping his lips as he looked at Bastet. The body was that of a

woman, but the head that brushed the arched ceiling belonged to a cat, sleek

and furred, with huge yellow slit-pupiled eyes, a long pointed snout and high

triangular ears. The mouth opened and Dee s cold light ran across gleaming

yellow teeth. This was the creature that had been worshipped for generations

throughout the land of Egypt.

Dee licked dry lips as he bowed deeply. Your niece, the Morrigan, sends her

regards and has asked me to relay the message that it is time to take your

revenge on the three-faced one.

Bastet surged forward and wrapped razor-tipped claws in the folds of Dee s

expensive suit coat, punching holes in the silk. Precisely tell me precisely

what my niece said, she demanded.

I ve told you, Dee said, looking up into the terrifying face. Bastet s

breath smelled of rotten meat. He tossed the blue-white ball of light into

the air, where it hung, suspended and whirling, then he carefully removed

Bastet s claws from his jacket. The coat was a shredded ruin.

The Morrigan wants you to join her in an attack on Hekate's Shadowrealm,

Dee said simply.

Then it is time, Bastet announced triumphantly.

The ancient magician nodded, shadows racing and dancing on the walls with the

movement. It is time, he agreed, time for the Elder Race to return and

reclaim this earth.

Bastet howled, the sound high-pitched and terrifying, and then the darkness

behind her boiled and shifted as thousands of cats of every breed, of all

shapes and sizes, poured into the cellar and gathered around her in an

ever-widening circle. It is time to hunt, she announced, time to feed.

The cats threw back their heads and mewled and howled. Dee found the din

utterly terrifying: it sounded like countless lost babies crying.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

S cathach was waiting by the enormous open doors when Sophie and Josh

returned to the tree. The pterosaur hopped along behind them, and the other

two circled low in the sky over their heads, the downdraft of their wings

setting eddies of dust circling and dancing around them. Although nothing was

said, the twins knew they were being gently but firmly herded back toward the

house.

In the gloom, Scathach s face was unnaturally pale, her cropped red hair

black in the shadows. Although her lips were set in a grim line, her voice,

when she spoke, was carefully neutral. Do you really want me to tell you

just how stupidly dangerous that was?

Josh opened his mouth to reply, but Sophie caught his arm, silencing him. We

just wanted to go home, she said simply, tiredly. She already knew what the

Warrior was going to say.

You cannot, Scathach said, and turned away.

The twins hesitated at the door, then turned to look back at the pterosaur.

It tilted its snakelike head and regarded them with a huge slit-pupiled eye,

and its voice echoed flatly in their heads. don't worry too much about

Scathach; her bark is much worse than her bite. The creature opened its