News travels fast, the reporter said, echoing the receptionist.
The Internet, Flamel said vaguely, adding, There s a video on YouTube. He
had absolutely no doubt that there were videos of the scene in Ojai online.
He turned to stare out into the Internet caf . From where he was standing he
could see half a dozen screens; each one displayed a Web page in a different
language. I ve been asked to get a quote for our arts and culture page. One
of our editors has visited your beautiful city often and bought several
amazing glass pieces from an antiques shop on Ojai Avenue. I m not sure if
you know it: the shop sells only mirrors and glassware, Flamel added.
Witcherly Antiques, Michael Carroll said immediately. I know it well. I m
afraid it was completely destroyed in an explosion.
Flamel felt suddenly breathless. Hekate had died because he had brought the
twins into her Shadowrealm; had the Witch of Endor shared Hekate s fate? He
cleared his throat and swallowed hard. And the owner, Mrs. Witcherly? Is
she ?
She s fine, the reporter said, and Flamel felt a wave of relief wash over
him. I've just taken a statement from her. She s in remarkably good spirits
for someone whose shop has just blown up. He laughed and added, She said
that when you've lived as long as she has, nothing much surprises you.
Is she still there? Flamel asked, trying to contain the eagerness is his
voice. Would she like to make a statement for the French press? Tell her
it s Nicholas Montmorency. We spoke once before; I m sure she ll remember
me, he added.
I'll ask .
The voice faded away and Flamel heard the reporter calling out for Dora
Witcherly. In the background, he also heard the sound of countless police,
fire and ambulance sirens and the fainter shouts and cries of distressed
people.
And it was all his fault.
He shook his head quickly. No, it was
Dee knew no sense of proportion; he had almost burned London'to the ground in
1666, had devastated Ireland with the Great Famine in the 1840s, had
destroyed most of San Francisco in 1906 and now he d emptied the graveyards
around Ojai. No doubt the streets were littered with bones and bodies.
Nicholas heard the reporter s muted voice and then the sound of the cell
phone being handed over.
Monsieur Montmorency? Dora said politely in perfect French.
Madame. You are unharmed?
Dora s voice fell to a whisper and she slipped into an archaic form of the
French language that would be incomprehensible to any modern eavesdropper.
It s not that easy to kill me, she said quickly. Dee has escaped, cut,
bruised, battered and very, very upset. You are all safe? Scathach too?
Scatty is safe. However, we've had an encounter with Niccol Machiavelli.
So he s still around. Dee must have warned him. Be careful, Nicholas.
Machiavelli is more dangerous than you can imagine. He is even more cunning
than Dee. Now I must hurry, she added urgently. This reporter is getting
suspicious. He probably thinks I m giving you a better story than I gave him.
What do you want?
I need your help, Dora. I need to know who I can trust in Paris. I need to
get the children off the streets. They re exhausted.
Hmmm. The line crackled with the sound of rustling paper. I don't know who
is in Paris at the moment. But I ll find out, she said decisively. What
time is it there?
He glanced at his watch and did the math. Five-thirty in the morning.
Get to the Eiffel Tower. Be there by seven a.m. and wait for ten minutes. If
I can find someone trustworthy, I ll have them meet you there. If no one you
recognize arrives, go back at eight and then at nine. If no one is there by
nine, then you ll know there is no one in Paris you can trust, and you will
have to make your own arrangements.
Thank you, Madame Dora, he said quietly. I ll not forget this debt.
There are no debts between friends, she said. Oh, and Nicholas, try and
keep my granddaughter out of trouble.
I ll do my best, Flamel said. But you know what she s like: she seems to
attract trouble. Though right now, she s watching over the twins in a caf
not far from here. At least she can t get into any trouble there.
CHAPTER TEN
of a chair and shoved hard. The wooden chair skipped across the floor and
slammed into the two police officers as they pushed through the door. They
crashed to the ground, a radio flying from the hand of one, a baton from the
hand of the other. The squawking radio skidded to a halt at Josh s feet. He
leaned over and poured his hot chocolate on it. It died in a fizz of sparks.
Scathach surged to her feet. Without turning her head, she raised an arm and
pointed at Roux. You. Stay right where you are. And don't even think about
phoning for the police.
Heart hammering, Josh grabbed Sophie and pulled her away from the table,
toward the back of the shop, shielding her with his body from the police at
the door.
One of the officers raised a gun. And Scatty s nunchaku struck it in the
barrel with enough force to bend the metal and send the weapon spinning from
the man's hand.
The second officer scrambled to his feet, pulling out a long black baton.
Scathach s right shoulder dipped and the nunchaku reversed direction in
midair, the twelve-inch length of hardened wood striking the police baton
just above its short handle. The baton shattered into ragged splinters.
Scathach flipped the nunchaku back and it dropped into her outstretched hand.
I m in a really bad mood, she said in perfect French. Believe me when I
tell you that you really do not want to fight me.
Scatty , Josh hissed in alarm.
Not now, the Warrior snapped in English. Can t you see I m busy?
Yeah, well, you re about to get busier, Josh shouted. A lot busier. Look
outside.
A police riot squad, in black body armor, full-face helmets and shields,
armed with batons and assault rifles, were racing down the street, straight
