slid into place with a satisfying thunk.
How will Flamel find us? Josh asked. Even though he was wary and fearful of
the Alchemyst, he felt even more nervous around Saint-Germain.
I gave him a little guide, Saint-Germain explained.
Will he be all right? Sophie asked Scathach.
I m sure he will be, she said, though the tone of her voice and the look in
her eyes betrayed her fears. She was turning away from the gate when she
stiffened, jaw unhinging, vampire teeth suddenly terrifyingly visible.
The door to the rear of the house had opened suddenly, and a figure stepped
out into the courtyard. Abruptly, Sophie s aura blazed silver-white, the
shock sending her spinning back into her brother, bringing his aura to
crackling life as well, outlining his body in gold and bronze. And as the
twins held on to one another, blinded by the silver and gold light of their
own auras, they heard Scathach scream. It was the most terrifying sound they
had ever heard.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Nicholas Flamel kept running, turning to the right, racing down the Quai
Branly.
Stop or I shoot!
Flamel knew the police wouldn't shoot they couldn't. Machiavelli would not
want him harmed.
The slap of leather on concrete and the jingle of weapons were close now, and
he could hear his pursuer s even breathing. Nicholas s own breathing was
beginning to come in great heaving gasps, and there was a stitch in his side
just below his ribs. The recipe in the Codex kept him alive and healthy, but
there was no way he could outrun this highly trained and obviously fit police
officer.
Nicholas Flamel stopped so suddenly that the police captain almost ran right
into him. Standing still, the Alchemyst turned his head to look back over his
left shoulder. The policeman had drawn an ugly black pistol and was holding
it in a steady two-handed grip.
don't move. Raise your hands.
Nicholas turned slowly to face the police officer. Well, make your mind up,
what s it to be? he asked mildly.
Behind his protective goggles, the man blinked at him in surprise.
Do I not move? Or do I raise my hands?
The police officer gestured with the barrel of the gun and Flamel raised his
hands. Five more RAID officers came running up. They trained a variety of
weapons on the Alchemyst as they spread out in a line alongside their
captain. With his hands still in the air, Nicholas turned his head slowly to
look at each of them in turn. In their black uniforms, helmets, balaclavas
and goggles, they looked like insects.
Get down on the ground. Do it, do it now! the captain commanded. Keep your
hands in the air.
Nicholas slowly folded to his knees.
Now lie down! Facedown!
The Alchemyst lay flat on the Parisian street, his cheek against the cool,
gritty pavement.
Stretch your arms wide.
Nicholas stretched out his arms. The police officers shifted position,
quickly encircling him, but they still kept their distance.
We have him. The police captain spoke into the microphone positioned in
front of his lips. No, sir. We ve not touched him. Yes, sir. Immediately.
Nicholas wished Perenelle were with him now; she would know what to do. But
if the Sorceress had been with him, then he would not be in this mess in the
first place. Perenelle was a fighter. How often had she urged him to stop
running, to use half a millennium of his alchemical knowledge and her sorcery
and magic and take the fight to the Dark Elders? She d wanted him to gather
the immortals, the Elders and the Next Generation who supported the humani
and wage a war against the Dark Elders, Dee and his kind. But he couldn't;
he d been waiting all his life for the twins foretold in the Codex.
There had never been any doubt in his mind that he would discover the twins.
The prophecies in the Codex were never wrong, but like everything else in the
book, the words of Abraham were never clear and were written in a variety of
archaic or forgotten languages.
And Nicholas knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was the immortal
mentioned in the prophecy: the hook-handed man had told him.
Half a millennium ago, Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel had traveled throughout
Europe in an attempt to understand the enigmatic metal-bound book. Finally,
in Spain, they had met a mysterious one-handed man who had helped translate
portions of the ever-changing text. The one-handed man had revealed that the
secret of Life Eternal always appeared on page seven of the Codex at the full
moon, while the recipe for transmutation, for changing the composition of any
material, appeared only on page fourteen. When the one-handed man had
translated the first prophecy, he had looked at Nicholas with coal black eyes
and reached over to tap the Frenchman s chest with the hook that took the
place of his left hand.
Alchemyst, here is your destiny, he had whispered.
The mysterious words suggested that Flamel would one day find the twins the
prophecy hadn't revealed that he d end up lying spread-eagled on a dirty
Parisian street surrounded by armed and very nervous police officers.
Flamel closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Pressing his outspread fingers
against the stones, he reluctantly drew upon his aura. The merest gossamer
thread of green-gold energy seeped off his fingertips and soaked into the
stones. Nicholas felt the tendril of his auric energy curl through the
pavement, then into the earth beneath. The hair-thin thread snaked through
the soil, looking searching and then, finally, finding what he was looking
