CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
throw up. Although it was cool and damp underground, he was sweating, his
hair plastered to his skull, his shirt lying icy and clinging along the
length of his spine. He had gone beyond frightened, past terrified and
straight to petrified.
Descending into the sewers had been bad enough. Dee had wrenched the manhole
cover out of the ground without any effort, and they d jerked back as a plume
of filthy, foul-smelling gas vented into the street. When it had drifted
away, Dee had slipped into the opening, followed a moment later by Josh and
finally Machiavelli. They d climbed down a short metal ladder and ended up
standing in a tunnel that was so narrow they had to march single file and so
low that only Dee could walk upright. The tunnel dipped, and Josh gasped as
ice-cold water suddenly flooded his sneakers. The smell was appalling, and he
desperately tried not to think about what he might be wading through.
The rotten-egg stink of sulfur briefly masked the smells in the sewer as Dee
created a globe of cold blue-white light. It hovered and danced in the air
about twelve inches in front of the Magician, painting the interior of the
narrow arched tunnel in stark ashen light and deep impenetrable shadows. As
they sloshed forward, Josh could hear things moving and glimpsed sparkling
points of red light shifting in the blackness. He hoped they were only rats.
I don't , Josh began, his voice echoing distortedly in the narrow tunnel.
I really don't like small spaces.
Neither do I, Machiavelli added tightly. I spent a little time in prison,
a long time ago. I ve never forgotten it.
Was it as bad as this? Josh asked shakily.
Worse. Machiavelli was walking behind Josh and he leaned forward to add,
Try and stay calm. This is just a maintenance tunnel; we ll get into the
proper sewers in a few moments.
Josh took a deep breath and gagged on the smell. He had to remember to
breathe only through his mouth. And how is that going to help? he muttered
through clenched teeth.
The sewers of Paris are mirrors of the streets above, Machiavelli
explained, his breath warm against Josh s ear. The bigger sewers are fifteen
feet high.
Machiavelli was correct; moments later they came out of the cramped and
claustrophobic service tunnel into a tall arched sewer wide enough to drive a
car through. The high brick walls were brightly lit and lined with black
pipes of various thicknesses. Somewhere in the distance, water splashed and
gurgled.
Josh felt the claustrophobia ease a little. Sophie sometimes got scared in
wide-open spaces; he was afraid of tightly enclosed spots. Agoraphobia and
claustrophobia. He took a deep breath; the air was still tainted with
effluent, but at least it was breathable. He lifted the front of his black
T-shirt to cover his face and breathed in: it stank. When he got out of
here
designer jeans Saint-Germain had given him. He quickly dropped the shirt,
realizing that he d nearly exposed the bag he wore on the cord around his
neck containing the pages from the Codex. No matter what happened now, he was
determined that he wasn't going to give up the pages to Dee, not until he was
sure very, very, very sure that the Magician s motives were honest.
Where are we? he wondered aloud, looking back at Machiavelli. Dee had
walked out into the center of the sewer, the solid white ball now spinning
just above the palm of his outstretched hand.
The tall Italian glanced around. I ve no idea, he admitted. There are
about twenty-one hundred kilometers of sewers around thirteen hundred miles,
he amended, seeing the blank look on Josh s face. But don't worry, we ll not
get lost. Most have their own street signs.
Street signs in the sewers?
The sewers of Paris are one of the great wonders of this city. Machiavelli
smiled.
Come! Dee s voice cracked out, echoing in the chamber.
Do you know where we re going? Josh asked quietly. He knew from experience
that he needed to keep distracted; once he started thinking about the
narrowness of the tunnels and the weight of the earth above him, his
claustrophobia would reduce him to a wreck.
We re going down, into the deepest, oldest part of the catacombs. You re
going to be Awakened.
Do you know who we re going to see?
Machiavelli s usually impassive face twitched in a grimace. Yes. By
reputation only. I ve never seen it. He lowered his voice to little more
than a whisper and caught Josh s sleeve, pulling him back. It s not too late
to turn back, he said.
Josh blinked in surprise. Dee wouldn't like that.
Probably not, Machiavelli agreed with a wry smile.
Josh was puzzled. Dee had said Machiavelli wasn't his friend, and it had been
obvious that the two men didn't agree. But I thought you and Dee were on the
same side.
We are both in the service of the Elders, it is true but I have never
approved of the English Magician and his methods.
Ahead of them, Dee turned into a smaller tunnel and stopped before a narrow
metal door that was secured by a thick padlock. He pinched through the hasp
of the metal lock with fingernails that stank of foul yellow power and pulled
open the door. Hurry, he called back impatiently.
This this person we re going to see, Josh said slowly, can they really
Awaken my powers?
I have no doubt about it, Machiavelli said softly. Is the Awakening so
important to you? he asked, and Josh was aware that Machiavelli was watching
him closely.
My sister was Awakened my twin sister, he explained slowly. I want I
to have my powers Awakened so we re alike again. He looked at the tall
white-haired man. Does that make sense?
Machiavelli nodded, his face an unreadable mask. But is that the only
reason, Josh?
The boy looked at him for a long moment before he turned away. Machiavelli
was right; it wasn't the only reason. When he d held Clarent, he d briefly
