like. You ll find a backpack under the table too. He paused, blue eyes
twinkling, and tapped the back of the machine Josh was looking at, then added
with a grin, I ve a spare long-life battery for this one. That was my
favorite.
Well, if you re really not using them
Saint-Germain ran a finger across the back of the small laptop, tracing a
line in the dust, holding it up so that Josh could see the black mark on his
fingertip. Trust me: I m not using them.
OK thanks. I mean, thank you. No one s ever given me a present like this
before, he said, picking up the small computer and turning it over in his
hands. I ll take this one if you re really sure .
I m sure. It s fully loaded; got wireless, too, and it ll autoconvert the
power for European and American current. Plus, it s got all my albums on it,
Saint-Germain said, so you can start your music collection again. You ll
also find an mpeg of the last concert. Check it out; it s really good.
I ll do that, Josh said, plugging in the laptop to charge the battery.
Let me know what you think. And you can be honest with me, Saint-Germain
added.
Really?
The count took a moment to consider, and then he shook his head. No, not
really. Only tell me if you think I m good. I don't like negative reviews,
though you d think that after nearly three hundred years, I d be used to
them.
Josh opened the laptop and turned it on. The machine whined and flickered to
life. Leaning forward, he gently blew dust off the keyboard. When the laptop
booted, the screen flickered and showed an image of Saint-Germain onstage,
surrounded by a dozen instruments. You have a picture of yourself for your
wallpaper? Josh asked incredulously.
It s one of my favorites, the musician said.
Josh nodded toward the screen and then looked around the room. Can you play
all these?
Every one. I started on the violin a long time ago, then moved on to
harpsichord and flute. But I ve kept up with the times, always learning new
instruments. In the eighteenth century, I was using the latest technology the
new violins, the latest keyboards and here I am, nearly three hundred years
later, still doing that. This is a great time to be a musician. And with
technology, I can finally play all the sounds I hear in my head. His fingers
brushed a keyboard and a full choir sang from the speakers.
Josh jumped. The voices were so clear that he actually looked over his
shoulder.
I load up the computer with sound samples, so I can use anything in my
work. Saint-Germain turned back to the screen and his fingers danced on the
keys. don't you think those fireworks yesterday morning made some great
sounds? Crackling. Snapping. Maybe it s time for another Fireworks Suite.
Josh walked around the room, looking at the framed gold records, the signed
posters and CD sleeves. I didn't know there was one already, he said.
George Frideric Handel, 1749,
that was! What music! Saint-Germain s fingers moved across a keyboard,
filling the room with a tune Josh thought sounded vaguely familiar. Maybe
he d heard it on a TV ad. Good old George, Saint-Germain said. I never
liked him.
The Witch of Endor doesn t like you, Josh said hesitantly. Why?
Saint-Germain grinned. The Witch doesn t like anyone. She especially doesn t
like me because I became immortal through my own efforts and, unlike Nicholas
and Perry, I don't need any recipe from a book to remain undying.
Josh frowned. You mean there are different types of immortality?
Many different types, and as many different types of immortals. The most
dangerous are those who became immortal because of their loyalty to an Elder.
If they fall from favor with the Elder, the gift is rescinded, of course. He
snapped his fingers and Josh jumped. The result is instant old age. Ancient
age. It s a great way of ensuring loyalty. He turned back to the keyboard
and his fingers drew a haunting breathy sound from the speakers. He looked up
as Josh joined him in front of the screen. But the real reason the Witch of
Endor doesn t like me is because I an ordinary mortal became the Master of
Fire. He held up his left hand and a different-colored flame danced at the
tip of each finger. The attic studio suddenly smelled of burnt leaves.
And why would that bother her? Josh asked, staring entranced at the dancing
flames. He wanted desperately wanted to be able to do something like that.
Maybe because I learned the secret of fire from her brother. The music
changed, becoming discordant and harsh. Well, when I say
really say
You stole the secret of fire! Josh said.
The Comte de Saint-Germain nodded happily. From Prometheus.
And one of these days my uncle will want it back. Scathach s voice made
them both jump. Neither had heard her enter the room. Nicholas is here, she
said, and turned away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
wrapped around a steaming mug of soup. In front of him was a half-empty
bottle of Perrier, a tall glass and a plate piled high with thick-crust bread
and cheese. He looked up, nodded and smiled as Josh and Saint-Germain
followed Scathach into the room.
Sophie was sitting on one side of the table, facing Joan of Arc, and Josh
quickly slid into the seat beside his sister while Saint-Germain took the
seat alongside his wife. Only Scathach remained standing, leaning against the
sink behind the Alchemyst, staring out into the night. Josh noted that she
was still wearing the bandana she had cut from Flamel s loose black T-shirt.
Josh turned his attention to the Alchemyst. The man looked exhausted and old,
and there seemed to be a dusting of silver in his close-cropped hair that
hadn't been there earlier. His skin was also shockingly pale, emphasizing the
bruise-black circles beneath his eyes and the deep lines in his forehead. His
clothes were rumpled and speckled with rain, and there was a long muddy
streak on the sleeve of the jacket he d hung off the back of the wooden
chair. Water droplets sparkled on the worn leather.
