A creature that was half man, half goat shuffled out of the approaching
crowd, dropped to all fours and trotted forward, wickedly curved stone horns
slashing at Saint-Germain. Joan jumped forward and chopped at the creature,
her sword striking sparks off its neck. The blow didn't even slow it down.
Saint-Germain managed to throw himself to one side at the last minute, then
made the mistake of slapping the beast on the rump as it went past. His hand
stung. The goat-man tried to stop on the cobbles and slipped, crashing to the
ground and cracking off one of his horns.
Nicholas drew Clarent and spun around, holding the sword in both hands,
wondering which creature would attack first. A bear with the head of a woman
lumbered forward, claws extended. Nicholas jabbed with Clarent, but the sword
screamed harmlessly off the creature s stone hide. He quickly cut at the
beast with the edge of the sword, but the vibration numbed his entire arm,
almost knocking the sword from his grip. The bear swiped a massive paw that
whispered over the Alchemyst s head. It teetered off balance, and Nicholas
rushed forward to throw his weight against it. The bear crashed to the
ground. Its claws beat against the cobblestones, shattering them to dust as
it attempted to regain its feet.
Standing before her brother, desperately trying to shield him, Sophie loosed
a series of small whirlwinds. They bounced harmlessly off most of the stones
and did nothing more than send a newspaper spiraling high into the sky.
Nicholas, Saint-Germain said desperately as the circle of stone creatures
drew even closer. A little magic, some alchemy, would be good now.
Nicholas held out his right hand. A tiny sphere of green glass formed in it.
Then it cracked and the liquid contents flowed back into his skin. I m not
strong enough, the Alchemyst answered sadly. The transmutation spell in the
catacombs exhausted me.
The gargoyles shuffled closer, stone grinding, cracking with every step.
Small grotesques were pulverized to dust if they were caught under the bigger
creatures feet.
They ll just roll right over us, Saint-Germain muttered.
Dee must be controlling them, Josh mumbled. He slumped against his sister,
hands pressed against his ears. Every grinding footstep, every crack of
stone, was agony to his Awakened hearing.
There s too many here for just one man, Joan said. It has to be Dee and
Machiavelli.
But they must be close by, Nicholas said.
Very close, Joan agreed.
A commander always takes the high ground, Josh said suddenly, surprising
himself with the knowledge.
Which means they re on the roof of the cathedral, Flamel concluded.
Then Joan pointed. I see them. There, between the towers, directly above the
center of the West Rose Window. She tossed her sword to her husband, and
then her aura flowed silver around her body and the air filled with the scent
of lavender. Her aura hardened, taking on shape and substance, and suddenly a
longbow grew out of her left hand while a shining arrow appeared in her
right. Drawing back her right arm, she sighted and loosed the arrow, sending
it arcing high into the air.
They ve spotted us, Machiavelli said. Huge beads of sweat rolled down his
face, and his lips were blue with the effort of controlling the stone
creatures.
It is no matter, Dee said, peering over the edge. They are powerless. In
the square below, the five humans were standing in a circle as the crushing
stone statues closed in.
Then let us finish it, Machiavelli said through gritted teeth. But
remember, we need the children alive. He broke off as something slender and
silver arced through the air before his face. It s an arrow, he began in
wonder, and then stopped and grunted as the arrow plunged deep into his
thigh. His entire leg from hip to toe went dead. He staggered back and fell
onto the cathedral roof, hands pressed against his leg. Surprisingly, there
was no blood, but the pain was excruciating.
On the ground far below, at least half the creatures suddenly froze or
toppled over. They crashed to the ground, and those behind tumbled over them.
Rock shattered, weathered stone exploding to dust. But still the rest of the
creatures pressed on, closing in.
Another dozen silver arrows arced up from below. They pinged and shattered
harmlessly against the brickwork.
I can t The pain in his leg was indescribable, and tears rolled down his
cheeks. I can t concentrate .
Then I ll finish it myself.
The boy and girl, Machiavelli said weakly. We need them alive .
Not necessarily. I am a necromancer. I can reanimate their corpses.
No! Machiavelli screamed.
Dee ignored him. Focusing his extraordinary will, the Magician issued the
gargoyles a single command. Kill them. Kill them all.
The creatures surged forward.
Again, Joan! Flamel shouted. Fire again!
I cannot. The tiny Frenchwoman was gray with exhaustion. The arrows are
shaped from my aura. I have nothing left.
The gargoyles pressed in, closer and closer, stone grinding and scraping as
they shuffled on. Their range of movement was limited; some had claws and
teeth, others horns or barbed tails, but they would simply crush the humans.
Josh picked up a small round grotesque that was so weathered it was little
more than a squat lump of stone and heaved it back into the mass of
creatures. It struck a gargoyle, and both shattered. He winced with the
sound, but he also realized that they could be destroyed. Pressing his hands
against his ears, he squinted at the broken creature, his Awakened sight
taking in every detail. The stone creatures were invulnerable to steel and
magic but then he noted that the stone was weathered and fragile. What
destroyed stone?
There was a flash of memory except it wasn't his memory of an ancient city,
walls crumbling, pulverized to dust
I ve got an idea, he shouted.
Make it a good one, Saint-Germain called. Is it magic?
It s basic chemistry. Josh looked at Saint-Germain. Francis, how hot can
you make your fire?
Very hot.
Sophie, how cold a wind can you create?
Very cold, she said, nodding. She suddenly knew what her brother was
suggesting: she d done the same experiment in chemistry class.
Do it now, Josh shouted.
A carved dragon with a chipped bat s wing lurched forward. Saint-Germain
unleashed the full force of his Fire magic against the creature s head,
bathing it in flame, baking it cherry red. And then Sophie let loose a puff
of arctic air.
The dragon s head cracked and exploded into dust.
Hot and cold, Josh shouted, hot and cold.
Expansion and contraction, Nicholas said with a shaky laugh. He looked up
to where Dee s head was just visible over the edge of the roof. One of the
basic principles of alchemy.
Saint-Germain bathed a boar galloping toward them in scalding heat, and
Sophie washed icy air over it. Its legs snapped off.
Hotter! Josh shouted. It needs to be hotter.
And yours need to be colder,
he said to his sister.
I ll try, she whispered. Her eyes were already leaden with exhaustion. I
don't know how much more I can do. She looked at her brother. Help me, she
said. Let me draw on your strength.
Josh stood behind Sophie and placed both hands on her shoulders. Silver and
gold auras sparked alight, mixing, entwining. Realizing what they were doing,
Joan immediately gripped her husband s shoulders and both their auras red and
silver crackled around them. When Saint-Germain shot a plume of fire over the
approaching gargoyles, it was white-hot, strong enough to start melting the
stones even before subarctic freezing winds and icy fog rolled from Sophie s
hands. Saint-Germain turned in a slow circle, and Sophie followed him. First
stone cracked, ancient brick exploded, and rock melted beneath the intense
heat, but when the icy winds followed, the effect was dramatic. The hot stone
statues exploded and split apart, shattering into gritty, stinging dust. The
first row fell, and then the next and the next, until a wall of shattered and
cracked stone built up in a circle around the trapped humans.
And when Saint-Germain and Joan slumped, Sophie and Josh continued, blasting
icy air over the few remaining creatures. Because the gargoyles had spent
centuries as water spouts, the stone was soft and porous. Using her brother s
stone and the creatures shattered.
The two that are one, Nicholas Flamel whispered, crouching exhausted on the
cobblestones. He looked at Sophie and Josh, their auras blazing wildly about
them, silver and gold intermixed, traces of ancient armor visible against
their skin. Their power was incredible and seemingly inexhaustible. He knew
that power like this could control, reshape or even destroy the world.
And as the last monstrous gargoyle exploded to dust and the twins auras
faded away, the Alchemyst found himself wondering for the first time if
Awakening them had been the correct decision.
On top of Notre Dame, Dee and Machiavelli watched as Flamel and the others
picked their way through the smoking piles of masonry, heading in the
direction of the bridge.
We are in so much trouble, Machiavelli said through gritted teeth. The
arrow had disappeared from his thigh, but his leg was still numb.
We? Dee said lightly. This, all this, is entirely your fault, Niccol . Or
at least, that s what my report will say. And you know what will happen then,
don't you?
Machiavelli straightened and stood, leaning against the stonework, favoring
his injured leg. My report will differ.
No one will believe you, Dee said confidently, turning away. Everyone
knows you are the master of lies.
Machiavelli reached into his pocket and pulled out a small digital tape
recorder. Well then, it s lucky I have everything you said on tape. He
tapped the recorder. Voice activated. It recorded every word you spoke to
me.
Dee stopped. He slowly turned to face the Italian and looked at the slender
tape recorder. Every word? he asked.
Every word. Machiavelli said grimly. I think the Elders will believe my
report.
Dee stared at the Italian for a heartbeat before nodding. What do you want?
Machiavelli nodded at the devastation below. His smile was terrifying. Look
at what the twins can do and they re barely Awakened, and not even fully
trained.
What are you suggesting? Dee asked.
Between us, you and I have access to extraordinary resources. Working
together rather than against one another we should be able to find the twins,
capture them and train them.
Train them!
Machiavelli s eyes started to glitter. They are the twins of legend. The
two that are one, the one that is all. Once they ve mastered all the
elemental magics, they will be unstoppable. His smile turned feral. Whoever
controls them controls the world.
The Magician turned to squint across the square to where Flamel was just
visible through the pall of dust and grit. You think the Alchemyst knows
this?
Machiavelli s laugh was bitter. Of course he knows. Why else do you think
he's training them!
MONDAY,
4th June
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
A t precisely 12:13, the Eurostar train pulled out of Gare du Nord station
and began the two-hour-twenty-minute journey into London s St. Pancras
International Station.
Nicholas Flamel sat facing Sophie and Josh across a table in Business Premier
Class. Saint-Germain had bought the tickets using an untraceable credit card
and had supplied them with French passports that came complete with
photographs that looked nothing like the twins, while Nicholas s passport
photograph was that of a young man with a full head of jet-black hair. Tell
them you've aged a lot in the past few years, Saint-Germain said with a
grin. Joan of Arc had spent the morning shopping and had presented Sophie and
Josh each with a backpack filled with clothes and toiletries. When Josh had
opened his, he d discovered the small laptop Saint-Germain had given him the
day before. Was it only yesterday? It seemed so long ago.
Nicholas spread out the newspapers as the train left the station and pulled
on a pair of cheap reading glasses he d bought at a drugstore. He held up Le
Monde so that the twins could see the front page; it carried a picture of the
devastation caused by Nidhogg.
It says here, Nicholas read slowly, that a section of the catacombs
collapsed. He turned the page. There was a half-page picture of piles of
shattered stone in the roped-off square before Notre Dame Cathedral.
Experts are claiming that the collapse and disintegration of some of
Paris s most famous gargoyles and grotesques was caused by acid rain that
weakened the structures. The two events are unconnected, he read, and
closed the paper.
So you were right, Sophie said, exhaustion etched onto her face even though
she d slept for nearly ten hours. Dee and Machiavelli have managed to cover
it up. She looked out the window as the train click-clacked across a maze of
interconnecting lines. A monster walked through Paris yesterday, gargoyles
climbed down off a building and yet there s nothing in the papers. It s like
it never happened.
But it did happen, Flamel said seriously. And you learned the Magic of
Fire and Josh s powers were Awakened. And yesterday you discovered just how
powerful the two of you are together.
And Scathach died, Josh said bitterly.
The blank look of surprise on Flamel s face confused and annoyed Josh. He
looked at his sister, then back at Nicholas. Scatty, he said angrily.
Remember her? She was drowned in the Seine.
Drowned? Flamel smiled, and the new lines at the corners of his eyes and
across his forehead deepened. She s a vampire, Josh, he said gently. She
doesn t need to breathe air. I ll bet she was mad, though; she hates getting
wet, he added. Poor Dagon: he didn't stand a chance. He sank back into the
comfortable
seat and closed his eyes. We ve one brief stop to make outside
London, then we ll use the map of the ley lines to get back to San Francisco,
and Perenelle.
Why are we going to England? Josh asked.
We re going to see the oldest immortal human in the world, the Alchemyst
said. I m going to try and persuade him to train you both in the Magic of
Water.
Who is it? Josh asked, reaching for his laptop. The first-class carriages
had a wireless network.
Gilgamesh the King.
End of Book Two
AUTHOR S NOTE
THE CATACOMBS OF PARIS
The Catacombs of Paris that Sophie and Josh explore really exist, as does the
extraordinary sewer system, which comes, as Machiavelli observes, complete
with street signs. Although Paris receives millions of visitors a year, many
are unaware of the vast network of tunnels below the city.
Officially, they are called les carri res de Paris, the quarries of Paris,
but they are commonly called the catacombs, and they are one of the wonders
of the city. The sights the twins encounter in the catacombs the walls of
bones, the spectacular arrangements of skulls are open to the public. They
date to the eighteenth century, when all the bodies and bones in the
overflowing Cimeti re des Innocents were exhumed and transported to the
limestone tunnels and caverns. More bodies from other cemeteries followed,
and it is now estimated that there are as many as seven million bodies in
this bizarre graveyard. No one knows who created the extraordinary and
artistic arrangements of bones; perhaps a workman wanted to fashion a
monument to the dead who would no longer have tombstones to mark their
graves. The walls, made entirely of human bones, many inset with a pattern of
skulls, are suitably eerie and, in some cases, have been lit for dramatic
effect.
The Romans were probably the first to quarry limestone from the ground to
build what would become Lutetia, the earliest Roman settlement on the Ile de
la Cit . Where Notre Dame Cathedral now stands, there was once a monument to
the Roman god Jupiter. From about the tenth century onward, limestone was
extensively mined from the quarries to create the city walls and to build
Notre Dame and the original Louvre palace. The catacombs have long been used
for storage by smugglers and have provided shelter for many homeless. More