had one great failing, it was arrogance. He obviously thought that if she was
imprisoned deep below Alcatraz and guarded by a sphinx, then she was
powerless. He could not be more wrong.
Alcatraz was a place of ghosts.
And Perenelle Flamel would show him just how powerful she was.
Closing her eyes, relaxing, Perenelle listened to the ghosts of Alcatraz, and
then slowly, her voice barely above a breathed whisper, she began to talk to
them, to call them and to gather them all to her.
CHAPTER SIX
You don't look OK, Josh muttered through gritted teeth. For the second time
in as many days, Josh was carrying his sister in his arms, one arm under her
back, the other beneath her legs. He moved cautiously down the steps of
Sacre -Coeur, terrified he was going to drop his twin. Flamel told us every
time you use magic it will steal a little of your energy, he added. You
look exhausted.
I m fine , she muttered. Let me down. But then her eyes flickered closed
once more.
The small group moved silently through the thick vanilla-scented fog,
Scathach in the lead with Flamel taking up the rear. All around them they
could hear the tramp of boots, the jingle of weapons, and the muted commands
of the French police and special forces as they climbed the steps. Some of
them came dangerously close, and twice Josh was forced to crouch low as a
uniformed figure darted by.
Scathach suddenly loomed up out of the thick fog, a short, stubby finger
pressed to her lips. Water droplets frosted her spiky red hair, and her white
skin looked even paler than usual. She pointed to the right with her ornately
carved nunchaku. The fog swirled and suddenly a gendarme was standing almost
directly in front of them, close enough to touch, his dark uniform sparkling
with beads of liquid. Behind him, Josh was able to make out a group of French
police clustered around what looked like an old-fashioned merry-go-round.
They were all staring upward, and Josh heard the word
again and again. He knew that they were talking about the strange fog that
had suddenly descended over the church. The gendarme was holding his service
pistol in his hand, the barrel pointed skyward, but his finger was lightly
curled over the trigger and Josh was once again reminded just how much danger
they were in not only from Flamel s nonhuman and inhuman enemies, but from
his all-too-human foes as well.
They walked perhaps another dozen steps and suddenly the fog stopped. One
moment Josh was carrying his sister through the thick mist; then, as if he
had stepped through a curtain, he was standing in front of a tiny art
gallery, a caf and a souvenir shop. He turned to look behind him and found
that he was facing a solid wall of mist. The police were little more than
indistinct shapes in the yellow-white fog.
Scathach and Flamel stepped out of the murk. Allow me, Scathach said,
catching hold of Sophie and lifting her from Josh s arms. He tried to
protest Sophie was his twin, his responsibility but he was exhausted. The
backs of his calves were cramping, and the muscles in his arms burned with
the effort of carrying his sister down what had felt like countless steps.
Josh looked into Scathach s bright green eyes. She s going to be OK?
The ancient Celtic warrior opened her mouth to reply, but Nicholas Flamel
shook his head, silencing her. He rested his left hand on Josh s shoulder,
but the boy shrugged it off. If Flamel noticed the gesture, he ignored it.
She just needs to sleep. The effort of raising the fog so soon after melting
the tulpa has completely drained the last of her physical strength, Flamel
said.
You asked her to create fog, Josh said quickly, accusingly.
Nicholas spread his arms. What else could I do?
I I don't know, Josh admitted. There must have been something you could
do. I ve seen you throw spears of green energy.
The fog allowed us to escape without harming anyone, Flamel said.
Except Sophie, Josh replied bitterly.
Flamel looked at him for a long moment and then turned away. Let s go. He
nodded toward a side street that sloped sharply downward, and they hurried
into the night, Scathach effortlessly carrying Sophie, Josh struggling to
keep up. He was not going to leave his sister s side.
Where to? Scathach asked.
We need to get off the streets, Flamel murmured. It looks like every
gendarme in the city has descended on Sacre -Coeur. I also saw special forces
and plainclothes police that I guess are secret service. Once they realize
we re not in the church, they ll probably cordon off the area and do a
street-by-street search.
Scathach smiled quickly, her long incisors briefly visible against her lips.
And let s face it: we re not exactly inconspicuous.
We need to find a place to Nicholas Flamel began.
The police officer who came racing around the corner looked to be no more
than nineteen tall, thin and gangly with bright red cheeks and the fuzzy
beginnings of a mustache on his upper lip. One hand was on his holster; the
other was holding on to his hat. He skidded to a halt directly in front of
them and managed a quick yelp of surprise as he fumbled for the gun in its
holster. Hey!
Nicholas lunged forward and Josh actually saw the green mist flow from the
Alchemyst s hand before his fingers brushed against the gendarme s chest.
Emerald light flared around the police officer s body, outlining it in
brilliant green, and then the man simply folded to the ground.
What did you do? Josh asked in a horrified whisper. He looked at the young
police officer lying still, and was suddenly chilled and sickened. You
didn't you didn't kill him?
No, Flamel said tiredly. Just overloaded his aura. Bit like an electric
shock. He ll awaken shortly with a headache. He pressed his fingertips to
his forehead, massaging just over his left eye. I hope it ll not be as bad
as mine, he added.
You do know, Scathach said grimly, that your little display will have
alerted Machiavelli to our position. Her nostrils flared and Josh breathed
deeply; the air around them stank of peppermint: the distinctive odor of
