You re right, of course. I ll do as you say.
Maybe we could check into a hotel? Josh suggested. He was achingly tired,
his eyes and throat gritty, head throbbing.
Scatty shook her head. They would ask for our passports . Sophie stirred in
her arms, and Scathach gently eased her to the ground and leaned her up
against the wall.
Josh was immediately by her side. You re awake, he said, relief in his
voice.
I wasn't really asleep, Sophie answered, her tongue feeling too big for her
mouth. I knew what was going on, but it was as if I was looking at it from
the outside. Like watching something on TV. She pressed her hands into the
small of her back and pushed hard as she rotated her neck. Ouch. That hurt.
What hurts? Josh asked immediately.
Everything. She attempted to straighten, but aching muscles protested and a
sick headache pulsed behind her eyes.
Is there anyone here you can call for help? Josh looked from Nicholas to
Scathach. Are there any more immortals or Elders?
There are immortals and Elders everywhere, Scatty said. Few are as
friendly as we are, though, she added with a humorless smile.
There will be immortals in Paris, Flamel agreed slowly, but I've no idea
where to find one, and even if I did, I would have no idea where their
allegiances lay. Perenelle would know, he added, a hint of sadness in his
voice.
Would your grandmother know? Josh asked Scatty.
The Warrior glanced at him. I m sure she would. She turned to look at
Sophie. Amongst all of your new memories, can you recall anything about
immortals or Elders living in Paris?
Sophie closed her eyes and tried to concentrate, but the scenes and images
that flashed by fire raining from a bloodred sky, a huge flat-topped pyramid
about to be overwhelmed by a gigantic wave were chaotic and terrifying. She
started to shake her head, then stopped. Even the simplest of movements hurt.
I can t think, she sighed. My head is so full, it feels like it s going to
burst.
The Witch might know, Flamel said, but we have no way of getting in touch
with her. She has no phone.
What about her neighbors, friends? Josh asked. He turned back to his
sister. I know you don't want to think about this, but you have to. It s
important.
I can t think , Sophie began, looking away and shaking her head.
don't think. Just answer, Josh snapped. He took a quick breath and lowered
his voice, speaking slowly. Sis, who is the Witch of Endor s closest friend
in Ojai?
Sophie s bright blue eyes closed again and she swayed as if she was about to
faint. When her eyes opened, she shook her head. She has no friends there.
But everyone knows her. Maybe we could call the store next to hers , she
suggested. Then she shook her head. It s too late there.
Flamel nodded. Sophie s right; it ll be closed at this time of night.
It ll be closed, all right, Josh agreed, a touch of excitement entering his
voice, but when we left Ojai, the place was in chaos. And don't forget, I
drove a Hummer into the fountain in Libbey Park; that had to have caught
someone s attention. I ll bet the police and the press are there right now.
And the press might answer some questions if we ask the right ones. I mean,
if the Witch s shop was damaged they re sure to be looking for a story.
It might work , Flamel began. I just need to know the name of the
newspaper.
much or the Witch does, she added, and then shuddered. There were so many
memories in her head, so many thoughts and ideas and not just the terrifying
and fantastic images of people and places that should never have existed, but
also ordinary mundane thoughts: phone numbers and recipes, names and
addresses of people she d never heard of, pictures from old TV shows, posters
from movies. She even knew the name of every single Elvis Presley song.
But all of these were the Witch s memories. And right now, she had to
struggle to remember her own cell phone number. What would happen if the
Witch s memories grew so strong that they overwhelmed her own? She tried to
focus on the faces of her parents, Richard and Sara. Hundreds of faces
flickered past, images of figures carved in stone, the heads of giant
statues, paintings daubed onto the sides of buildings, tiny shapes etched in
shards of pottery. Sophie started to get frantic. Why couldn't she remember
her parents faces? Closing her eyes, she concentrated hard on the last time
she had seen her mother and father. It would have been about three weeks ago,
just before they had left for the dig in Utah. More faces tumbled behind
Sophie s closed eyes: images on scraps of parchment, fragments of manuscripts
or cracked oil paintings; faces in faded sepia photographs, in blurred
newspapers
Sophie?
And then, in a flash of color, the faces of her parents popped into her head,
and Sophie felt the Witch s memories fade away and her own come back to the
surface. She suddenly knew her own phone number.
Sis?
She opened her eyes and blinked at her brother. He was standing directly in
front of her, his face close to hers, his eyes pinched with concern.
I m OK, she whispered. I was just trying to remember something.
What?
She attempted a smile. My phone number.
Your phone number? Why? He stopped, and then added, No one ever remembers
their own phone number. When was the last time you called yourself?
Hands wrapped around steaming mugs of bittersweet hot chocolate, Sophie and
Josh sat opposite one another in an otherwise empty all-night caf close to
the Gare du Nord Metro station. There was only one staff member behind the
counter, a surly shaven-headed assistant wearing an upside-down name tag that
said ROUX.
I need a shower, Sophie said grimly. I need to wash my hair and brush my
teeth, and I need to change my clothes. It feels like days since my last
shower.
I think it is days. You look terrible, Josh agreed. He reached over and
pulled loose a strand of blond hair that had stuck to his sister s cheek.
I feel terrible, Sophie whispered. Remember that time last summer when we
were in Long Beach and I had all that ice cream, then ate the chili dog and
