Nicholas Flamel 2 - The Magician

dangerous than Dagon.

Sophie wasn't sure if he was trying to convince himself or her. I saw that

thing drag her into the river, and we waited for at least ten minutes. She

didn't come back up. She must have drowned. Her voice caught and she could

feel the tears pricking at the back of her eyes again. Her throat felt as if

it were on fire.

I ve seen her survive worse, much worse. Nicholas attempted a wan smile. I

think Dagon is in for a surprise! Scatty s like a cat: she hates getting wet.

The Seine runs very fast; they were probably swept downriver. She ll contact

us.

But how? She ll have no idea where we are. Sophie really hated the way

adults lied. They were just so transparent.

Sophie, Nicholas said seriously. If Scathach is alive, she will find us.

Trust me.

And in that moment, Sophie realized that she did not trust the Alchemyst.

Joan put her arm on Sophie s shoulder and squeezed gently. Nicholas is

right. Scatty is She smiled, and her entire face lit up. She is

extraordinary. Her aunt once abandoned her in one of the Underworld

Shadowrealms: it took her centuries to find her way out. But she did it.

Sophie nodded slowly. She knew that what they were saying was true the Witch

of Endor knew more about Scathach than either the Alchemyst or Joan but she

could also tell that they were very worried.

Now, Sophie, Nicholas resumed. I need you to find your brother.

How?

I m hearing sirens, Joan said urgently, looking back down the alley. Lots

of sirens.

Flamel ignored her. He stared deep into Sophie s bright blue eyes. You can

find him, he insisted. You are his twin; it is a connection that goes even

deeper than blood. you've always known when he was in trouble, haven t you?

Sophie nodded.

Nicholas , Joan prodded, we are running out of time.

you've always felt his pain, known when he was unhappy or upset?

Sophie nodded again.

You are connected to him, you can find him. The Alchemyst turned the girl

around so that she was facing down the alleyway. Josh was standing here, he

said, pointing. Dee and Machiavelli were standing about here.

Sophie was confused and getting irritated. But they re gone now. They took

him away.

I don't think they forced him to go anywhere, I think he went with them of

his own free will, Nicholas said very softly.

The words hit Sophie like a blow. Josh wouldn't leave her, would he? But

why?

Flamel shrugged slightly. Who knows? Dee has always been very persuasive,

and Machiavelli is a master manipulator. But we can find them, I m sure of

it. Your senses have been Awakened, Sophie. Look again; imagine Josh standing

in front of you, see him .

Sophie took a deep breath and closed her eyes, then opened them again. She

could see nothing out of the ordinary; she was standing in a dirty

trash-strewn alley, the walls covered with curling ornate graffiti, with the

smoke of the burning car whirling around her.

His aura is gold, Flamel continued. Dee s is yellow Machiavelli s gray or

dirty white .

Sophie started to shake her head. I can t see anything, she began.

Then let me help you. Nicholas put his hand on her shoulder and suddenly

the stink of the burning car was replaced with the fresh sharp smell of mint.

Instantly, her aura flared around her body, crackling and spitting like a

firework, the pure silver now tinged with the emerald green of Flamel s aura.

And then she saw something.

Directly in front of her she could make out the merest hint of Josh s

outline. It was ghostly and insubstantial, composed of little more than

threads and sparkling dust motes of gold, and when he moved he trailed

streaked lines of gossamer color in the air behind him. Now that she knew

what she was looking for, she could also make out the traces of Dee s and

Machiavelli s outlines in the air.

She blinked slowly, afraid that the images would vanish, but they remained

hanging in the air before her, and if anything, the colors grew even more

intense. Josh s aura was the brightest of all. She reached out blindly, her

fingers touching the golden edge of her brother s arm. The smoky outline

twisted away as if blown by a breeze.

I see them, she said in awe, her voice barely above a whisper. She d never

imagined she d be able to do anything like this. I can see their outlines.

Where did they go? Nicholas asked.

Sophie followed the colored streaks in the air; they led to the end of the

alley. This way, she said, and set off down the alleyway toward the street,

with Nicholas close on her heels.

Joan of Arc took one last lingering look at her battered car and then

followed.

What are you thinking? Flamel asked.

I m thinking that when this is all over, I m going to return the car to its

former pristine condition. And then never take it out of the garage again.

Something s wrong, Flamel said as they wove their way through the streets.

Sophie was concentrating fiercely on following her twin and ignored him.

I ve just been thinking the same thing, Joan said. The city is too quiet.

Exactly. Flamel looked around. Where were the Parisians on their way to

work and the tourists determined to get to see the sights before the city

grew stifling hot and crowded? The few people on the street hurried past,

talking excitedly together. The air was filled with sirens, and there were

police everywhere. And then Nicholas realized that Nidhogg s rampage through

the city had probably hit the news and people were being warned to stay off

the streets. He wondered what excuse the authorities would make to explain

the chaos.

Sophie pushed her way blindly down the street, following the gossamer threads

that Josh s, Dee s and Machiavelli s auras had left in the air behind them.

She kept bumping into people and apologizing, but she never took her eyes off

the sparkles of light. And then she noticed that as the sun rose higher in

the heavens, it was becoming harder and harder to make out the pinpoints of

colored light. She realized she was running out of time.

Joan of Arc caught up with the Alchemyst. Can she really see the afterimages

left by their auras? she asked in archaic French.