other hand in what might have been a greeting, or a farewell.
Now what? Dee demanded.
Machiavelli turned the key in the ignition and wrenched the car into first
gear. It jerked forward, bouncing a little; then the engine howled as he put
his foot to the floor. The Rue de Marignan comes out onto the Avenue
Montaigne. I think I can get there before Nidhogg does. He hit the sirens.
Dee nodded. Perhaps you might think about changing gear. His lips moved in
a barely discernable smile. You ll find the car will go faster that way.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
back of a small red and black Citro n 2CV, taking up a position behind
Nicholas, who was sitting up front with Joan.
These are converted stables. In previous centuries, the stables were never
too close to the house. I guess the rich didn't like living with the smell of
horse manure. It s not so bad, though it can be a bit of an inconvenience on
a rainy night, knowing you have to run three blocks home. If Francis and I go
out for an evening, we usually take the Metro.
Joan eased the car out of the garage and turned right, moving away from the
damaged house, which was quickly being surrounded by fire trucks, ambulances,
police cars and press. When they d left, Francis had been going upstairs to
change; he reasoned that all the publicity would do wonders for the sale of
his new album.
We ll cut across the Champs-Elys es and then head down toward the river,
Joan said, expertly maneuvering the Citro n through the narrow cobbled
alleyway. Are you sure that s where Nidhogg will go?
Nicholas Flamel sighed. I m only guessing, he admitted. I ve never
actually seen it I don't know of anyone who has and lived but I ve come
across creatures like it in my travels, and they are all related to the
marine lizards, like the mosasaur. It s scared, maybe it s hurt. It ll head
to the water, seeking cool, healing mud.
Sophie leaned forward between the front seats. She deliberately focused on
Nidhogg, desperately sorting through the Witch s memories, looking for
something that might help her. But even the Witch knew little about the
primal creature except that it was locked in the roots of the World Tree, the
tree that Dee had destroyed with
Excalibur, she whispered.
The Alchemyst swiveled in the seat to look at her. What about it?
Sophie frowned, trying to remember. Josh told me earlier that Dee had
destroyed Yggdrasill with Excalibur.
Flamel nodded.
And you told me that Clarent is Excalibur s twin.
It is.
Does it share the same powers? she asked.
Flamel s cool gray eyes flashed. And you re wondering, if Excalibur could
destroy something as ancient as the World Tree, could Clarent destroy
Nidhogg? He was nodding even as he was speaking. The ancient weapons of
power predate the Elders. No one has any idea where they came from, though we
do know that the Elders used some of them. The fact that the weapons are
still around today proves just how indestructible they are. He nodded. I m
sure Clarent could hurt and possibly even kill Nidhogg.
And you believe Nidhogg is hurt now? Joan spotted an opening in the light
early-morning traffic and slotted neatly into it. Car horns blared behind
her.
Something drove it from the house.
Then you know what you've just confirmed? she said.
Flamel nodded. We know Scatty would never touch Clarent. Therefore, Josh
wounded the creature enough to send it careering madly across Paris. And now
he s chasing it.
And Machiavelli and Dee? Joan asked.
Probably chasing him.
Joan cut across two lanes of traffic and roared down the Champs-Elys es.
Let s hope they don't catch up with him.
A sudden thought struck Sophie. Dee met Josh . She stopped, realizing what
she d just said.
In Ojai. I know, Flamel said, surprising her. He told me.
Sophie sat back, surprised that her twin had told the Alchemyst. Color
touched her cheeks. I think Dee made an impression on him. She felt almost
embarrassed saying this to the Alchemyst, as if she was betraying her
brother, but she pressed on. This was no time for secrets. Dee told him some
things about you. I think I think Josh sort of believed him, she finished in
a rush.
I know, Flamel said softly. The English Magician can be very persuasive.
Joan slowed the car to a stop. This isn't good, she muttered. There should
be virtually no one on the road at this hour.
They had driven right into a huge traffic jam. It stretched down the
Champs-Elys es directly ahead of them. For the second day in a row, traffic
on Paris s main thoroughfare had come to a complete halt. People were
standing beside their cars looking at the gaping hole in the side of the
building across the street. Police had just arrived and were quickly trying
to take control, urging traffic to move on and allow the emergency services
to get through to the building.
Joan of Arc leaned across the steering wheel, cool gray eyes assessing the
situation. It crossed the street and went this way, Joan said, signaling
quickly and turning right, into the narrow Rue de Marignan, driving past a
pair of mangled traffic lights. I don't see them.
Nicholas rose in the seat, trying to see as far as possible down the long
straight street. Where does this come out?
On the Rue Fran ois, just before the Avenue Montaigne, Joan answered. I ve
walked, cycled and driven through these streets for decades. I know them like
the back of my hand. They drove past a dozen cars, each one bearing the
marks of Nidhogg: metalwork crumpled like tinfoil, windows spiderwebbed and
smashed. A ball of metal that had once been a bicycle was now pressed deeply
into the pavement, still attached to a railing by a length of chain.
Joan, Nicholas said very softly, I think you should hurry up.
