Nicholas Flamel 2 - The Magician

they are as much a danger to you as they are to our enemies. Joan of Arc

helped you today, didn't she?

Yes, she helped a lot. I don't hear the voices anymore. That s a huge help.

But there s another reason too, isn't there? Sophie asked.

Josh turned the sword over in his hand, the blade almost black in the night,

tiny flecks of crystal in the stone winking like stars. We have no idea what

sort of trouble we re in, he said slowly. But we do know that we re in

danger real danger. We re fifteen years old we shouldn't be thinking about

being killed or eaten or worse! He waved vaguely in the direction of the

door. I don't trust them. The only person I can trust is you the real you.

But Josh, Sophie said very gently, I do trust them. They are good people.

Scatty has fought for humanity for over two thousand years, and Joan is a

kind and gentle person .

And Flamel has kept the Codex hidden away for centuries, Josh said quickly.

He touched his chest and Sophie heard the crackle of the two pages in the bag

Flamel had given him. There are recipes in this book that could make this

planet a paradise, could cure every disease. He saw the flicker of doubt in

her eyes and pressed on. And you know that s true.

The Witch s memories also tell me that there are recipes in the book that

could destroy this world.

Josh shook his head quickly. I think you re seeing what they want you to

see.

Sophie pointed to the sword. But why did Flamel give you the sword and the

Codex pages? she asked triumphantly.

I think I know they re using us. I just don't know what for. Not yet,

anyway. He saw his twin start to shake her head. Anyway, we re going to

need your powers to keep us both safe.

Sophie reached out and squeezed her brother s hand. You know I d never let

anything hurt you.

I know that, Josh said seriously. At least, not deliberately. But what

happens if something uses you, like it did in the Shadowrealm?

Sophie nodded. I had no control then, she admitted. It was like I was in a

dream, watching someone who looked like me.

My football coach says that before you can take control, you have to be in

control. If you can learn how to control your aura and master the magics,

Josh continued, no one would be able to do that to you ever again. You d be

incredibly powerful. And let s say, for instance, that my power isn't

Awakened. I can learn how to use this sword. He twisted it in his hand,

attempting to spin the blade, but it slipped sideways and cut a deep gouge in

the wall. Oops.

Josh!

What? You can hardly notice it. He rubbed his sleeve against the cut. Paint

and plaster flaked away, exposing the brickwork beneath.

You re making it worse. And you've probably taken a chunk out of the sword.

But when Josh held the weapon up to the light, there wasn't even a mark on

the blade.

Sophie nodded slowly. I still think I know you re wrong about Flamel and the

others.

Sophie, you have to trust me.

I trust you. But remember, the Witch knows these people, and she trusts

them.

Sophie, Josh said in frustration, we don't know anything about the Witch.

Oh, Josh, I know everything about the Witch, Sophie said feelingly. She

tapped her temple with her forefinger. And I wish I didn't. Her entire life,

thousands of years, are in here. Josh opened his mouth to reply, but Sophie

held up her hand. Here s what I ll do: I ll work with Saint-Germain, learn

everything he has to teach me.

And keep an eye on him at the same time; try and find out what he and Flamel

are up to.

Sophie ignored him. Maybe the next time we re attacked, we ll be able to

defend ourselves. She looked across the rooftops of Paris. At least we re

safe here.

But for how long? her twin asked.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

D r. John Dee turned off the light and stepped out of the enormous bedroom

onto the balcony, resting his forearms on the metal railing and looking out

over the city of Paris. It had rained earlier and the air was damp and chill,

tainted with the sour smell from the Seine and the hint of exhaust fumes.

He hated Paris.

It had not always been that way. Once, this had been his favorite city in all

of Europe, filled with the most wonderful and extraordinary memories. After

all, he had been made immortal in this city. In a dungeon deep below the

Bastille, the prison fortress, the Crow Goddess had taken him to the Elder

who had granted him eternal life in return for unquestioning loyalty.

Dr. John Dee had worked for the Elders, spied for them, undertaken many

dangerous missions through countless Shadowrealms. He had fought armies of

the dead and undead, pursued monsters across bitter wastelands, stolen some

of the most precious and magical objects sacred to a dozen civilizations. In

time he had become the champion of the Dark Elders; nothing was beyond him,

no mission was too difficult except when it came to the Flamels. The English

Magician had failed, over and over, to capture Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel,

several times in this very city.

It remained one of the greatest mysteries of his long existence: how had the

Flamels evaded him? He commanded an army of human, inhuman and abhuman

agents; he had access to the birds of the air; he could command rats, cats

and dogs. He had at his disposal creatures from the darkest edges of

mythology. But for more than four hundred years, the Flamels had escaped

capture, first here in Paris, then across Europe and into America, always

staying one step ahead of him, often leaving town only hours before he

arrived. It was almost as if they were being warned. But that, of course, was

impossible. The Magician shared his plans with no one.

A door opened and closed in the room behind him. Dee s nostrils flared,

smelling a hint of musty serpent. Good evening, Niccol , Dee said, without

turning around.