lower rungs of a short stepladder. He was holding his head in his hands and
breathing deeply, coughing occasionally as he tried to clear his lungs of
dust and grit. But you re right, we re not going to the police. He managed
a wan smile. I m not sure what we could say to the police that would make
any sense to them.
I m not sure that it makes much sense to us either, Josh said. He was
sitting on the only unbroken chair left in the bookshop. Although he d broken
no bones, he was bruised all over and knew he was going to turn several
really interesting shades of purple over the next couple of days. The last
time he d felt like this was when he d been run over by three guys on the
football field. Actually, this felt worse. At least then, he knew what was
happening.
I think that perhaps gas escaped into the shop, Nick suggested cautiously,
and what we've all experienced and seen is nothing more than a series of
hallucinations. He stopped, looking at Sophie and Josh in turn.
The twins lifted their heads to look at him, identical expressions of
disbelief on their faces, bright blue eyes still wide with shock. Lame,
Josh said finally.
Very lame, Sophie agreed.
Nick shrugged. Actually, I thought it was a pretty good explanation. It
covered the smells, the explosion in the shop and any any
Adults, Sophie had decided a long time before, were really bad at making up
good excuses. We didn't imagine those things, she said firmly. We didn't
imagine the Golems.
The what? Josh asked.
The big guys were Golems; they were made out of mud, his sister explained.
Perry told me.
Ah, she did, did she? Fleming murmured. He looked around the devastated
shop and shook his head. It had taken less than four minutes to completely
trash it. I m surprised he brought Golems. They are usually so unreliable in
warmer countries. But they served his purpose. He got what he came for.
The book? Sophie asked. She had caught a glimpse of it in Josh s hand
before the small man pulled it free. Although she was standing in a shop full
of books, and their father owned a huge library of antiquarian books, she had
never seen anything like that particular one before. It looked as if it was
bound in tarnished metal.
Fleming nodded. He s been looking for that for a long time, he said softly,
his pale eyes lost and distant. A very long time.
Josh rose slowly to his feet, his back and shoulders aching. He held out two
crumpled pages to Nick. Well, he didn't get all of it. When he pulled the
book out of my hand, I guess I must have been holding on to these.
Fleming snatched the pages from Josh s hand with an inarticulate cry.
Dropping to the floor, he brushed away shredded books and shattered shelving
and laid the two pages on the floor side by side. His long-fingered hands
were trembling slightly as he smoothed the pages flat. The twins knelt on the
floor on either side of him, staring intently at the pages and trying to make
sense of what they were seeing. And we re certainly not imagining
Sophie whispered, tapping the page with her index finger.
The thick pages were about six inches across by nine inches long and were
composed of what looked like pressed bark. Tendrils of fibers and leaves were
clearly visible in the surface, and both were covered with jagged, angular
writing. The first letter at the top left-hand corner of each page was
beautifully illuminated in gold and red, while the rest of the words were
written in reddish black ink.
And the words were moving.
Sophie and Josh watched as the letters shifted on the page like tiny beetles,
shaping and reshaping themselves, becoming briefly almost legible in
recognizable languages like Latin or Old English, but then immediately
dissolving and re-forming into ancient-looking symbols not unlike Egyptian
hieroglyphs or Celtic Ogham.
Fleming sighed. No, you re not imagining that, he said finally. He reached
down the neck of his T-shirt and pulled out a pair of pincenez on a length of
black cord. The pincenez were old-fashioned glasses without arms, designed to
perch on the bridge of the nose. Using the spectacles as magnifying glasses,
Nick moved them across the wriggling, shifting words.
Good news? Josh asked.
Excellent news. He s missing the Final Summoning. He squeezed Josh s
bruised shoulder, making him wince. If you had wanted to take two pages from
the book, rendering it useless, then you could not have chosen better than
these. The broad smile faded from his face. And when Dee finds out, He'll
be back, and I guarantee you he will not just bring Golems with him next
time.
Who
Gathering up the pages, Nick stood. Sophie turned to look at him and realized
that he suddenly looked old and tired, incredibly tired. The gray man was
Dr. John Dee, one of the most powerful and dangerous men in the world.
I ve never heard of him, Josh said.
To remain unknown in this modern world: that, indeed, is real power. Dee is
an alchemist, a magician, a sorcerer and a necromancer, and they are not all
the same thing.
Magic? Sophie asked.
I thought there was no such thing as magic, Josh said sarcastically, and
then immediately felt foolish, after what he d just seen and experienced.
Yet you have just fought creatures of magic: the Golems are men created of
mud and clay, brought to life by a single word of power. In this century,
I'll wager there are less than half a dozen people who have even seen a
Golem, let alone survived an encounter with one.
Did Dee bring them to life? Sophie asked.
Creating Golems is easy; the spell is as old as humanity. Animating them is
a little harder and controling them is practically impossible. He sighed.
But not for Dr. John Dee.
Who is he? she pressed.
Dr. John Dee was Court Magician during the reign of Queen Elizabeth I in
England.
Sophie laughed shakily, not entirely sure whether to believe Nick Fleming.
But that was centuries ago; the gray man couldn t have been older than
fifty.
Nick Fleming crawled around on the floor, pushing through books until he
