On the other side of the Atlantic, Niccol Machiavelli remained calm and
controlled, only the tightening of his jaw muscles revealing his anger. You
are remarkably well informed.
I have my sources, Dee snapped, his thin lips twisting into an ugly smile.
He knew it would drive Machiavelli crazy knowing there was a spy in his camp.
You had them trapped in Ojai, I understand, Machiavelli continued softly,
surrounded by an army of the risen dead. And yet they escaped. How could you
let them do that?
Dee sat back in the soft leather seat of the speeding limousine. His face was
lit only by the screen of his cell phone, its glow touching his cheekbones
and outlining his sharp goatee in cold light, leaving his eyes in shadow. He
hadn't told Machiavelli that he d used necromancy to raise an army of dead
humans and beasts. Was this the Italian s subtle way of letting him know that
he had a spy in Dee s camp?
Where are you now? Machiavelli asked.
Dee glanced out the window of the limousine, trying to read the road signs
flashing past. Somewhere on the 101, heading down to L.A. My jet is fueled
and ready to go, and we re cleared for takeoff as soon as I arrive.
I would anticipate having them in custody before you land in Paris,
Machiavelli said. The line crackled furiously, and he paused before adding,
I believe they will attempt to contact Saint-Germain.
Dee sat bolt upright. The Comte de Saint-Germain? He s back in Paris? I
heard he had died in India looking for the lost city of Ophir.
Obviously not. He has an apartment off the Champs-Elys es and two homes in
the suburbs that we are aware of. They are all under observation. If Flamel
contacts him, we ll know.
don't let them escape this time, Dee barked. Our masters would not be
pleased. He snapped the phone shut before Machiavelli could respond. Then
his teeth flashed in a quick smile. The net was closing tighter and tighter.
He can be so childish, Machiavelli muttered in Italian. Always has to have
the last word. Standing in the ruins of the coffee shop, he carefully closed
his phone and looked around at the devastation. It was as if a tornado had
ripped through the caf . Every item of furniture was broken, the windows were
shattered, and there were even cracks in the ceiling. The powdery remains of
cups and saucers mixed with spilled coffee beans, scattered tea leaves and
broken pastries on the floor. Machiavelli bent to lift up a fork. It was
curled in a perfect S shape. Tossing it aside, he picked his way through the
debris. Scathach had single-handedly defeated twelve highly trained and
heavily armed RAID officers. He had been vaguely hoping that perhaps she had
lost some of her martial arts skills in the years since he had last
encountered her, but it seemed that his hope had been in vain. The Shadow was
as deadly as ever. Getting close to Flamel and the children would be
difficult with the Warrior in the picture. In his long life, Niccol had
encountered her on at least half a dozen occasions, and he d barely survived
each time. They d last met in the frozen ruins of Stalingrad in the winter of
1942. If it hadn't been for her, his forces would have taken the city. He d
sworn then that he would kill her: maybe now was the time to keep that
promise.
But how to kill the unkillable? What could stand against the warrior who had
trained all of history s greatest heroes, who had fought in every great
conflict and whose fighting style was at the heart of just about every
martial art?
Stepping out of the demolished shop, Machiavelli breathed deeply, clearing
his lungs of the bitter, acrid odor of spilled coffee and sour milk that hung
in the air. Dagon pulled open the car door as he approached, and the Italian
saw himself reflected in his driver s dark glasses. He paused before stepping
into the car and glanced up at the police closing off the streets, the
heavily armed riot squad gathering in small groups and the plain clothes
officers in their unmarked cars. The French secret service were his to
command, he could order in the police, and he had access to a private army of
hundreds of men and women who would do his bidding without question. And yet
he knew that none of them could stand against the Warrior. He came to a
decision and looked at Dagon before climbing into the car.
Find the Disir.
Dagon stiffened, showing a rare sign of emotion. Is that wise? he asked.
It is necessary.
T he Witch said we should get to the Eiffel Tower by seven, and to wait
there for ten minutes, Nicholas Flamel said as they hurried down the narrow
alley. If no one shows up in that time, we are to return there at eight and
again at nine.
Who ll be there? Sophie asked, jogging to keep up with Flamel s long
stride. She was exhausted, and the few moments sitting in the caf had only
served to emphasize just how tired she was. Her legs felt leaden and there
was a sharp stitch in her left side.
The Alchemyst shrugged. I don't know. Whoever the Witch can contact.
That s assuming there is anyone in Paris willing to risk helping you,
Scathach said lightly. You are a dangerous enemy, Nicholas, and probably an
even more dangerous friend. Death and destruction have always followed
closely at your heels.
Josh glanced sidelong at his sister, knowing she was listening. She
deliberately looked away, but he knew she was uncomfortable with the
conversation.
Well, if no one turns up, Flamel said, then we ll go to plan B.
Scathach s lips curled into a humorless smile. I didn't even know we had a
plan A. What s plan B?
I haven t gotten that far yet. He grinned. Then the smile faded. I just
wish Perenelle were here; she d know what to do.
We should split up, Josh said suddenly.
Flamel, who was in the lead, glanced over his shoulder. I don't think so.
We have to, Josh said firmly. It makes sense. But as he said it, he
wondered why the Alchemyst didn't want them to split up.
Josh is right, Sophie said. The police are looking for the four of us. I m
sure they have a description by now: two teenagers, a red-haired girl and an
old man. It s not really a common group.
Old! Nicholas sounded vaguely insulted, his French accent pronounced.
Scatty is two thousand years older than I!
Yes. But the difference is that I don't look it, the Warrior teased with a
grin. Splitting up is a good idea.
Josh stopped at the mouth of the narrow alley and looked up and down. Police
sirens wailed and warbled all around them.
Sophie stood beside her brother, and while the similarity in their features
was obvious, he suddenly noticed that there were now lines on her forehead,
and her bright blue eyes had become cloudy, the irises flecked with silver.
Roux said we should turn left for the Rue de Dunkerque or right for the
Metro station.
I m not sure that splitting up Flamel hesitated.
Josh spun around. We have to, he said decisively. Sophie and I will he
began, but Nicholas shook his head, interrupting him.
OK. I agree
that we should split up. But the police may be looking for
twins .
We don't look too much like twins, Sophie said quickly. Josh is taller
than me.
And you both have blond hair and bright blue eyes, and neither of you speaks
French, Scatty added. Sophie, you come with me. Two girls together will not
attract too much attention. Josh and Nicholas can go together.
I m not leaving Sophie , Josh protested, suddenly panicked at even the
thought of being separated from his sister in this strange city.
I ll be safe with Scatty, Sophie said with a smile. You worry too much.
And I know Nicholas will look after you.
Josh didn't look too sure. I d rather stay with my sister, Josh said
firmly.
Let the girls go together; it s better this way, Flamel said. Safer.
Safer? Josh said incredulously. Nothing about this is safe.
Josh! Sophie snapped, in the exact tone that their mother sometimes used.
Enough. She turned back to the Warrior. You ll need to do something with
your hair. If the police have a description of a red-haired girl in black
combats
You re right. Scathach s left hand moved in a quick twisting gesture and
suddenly she was holding a short-bladed knife between her fingers. She turned
to Flamel. I m going to need some cloth. Without waiting for an answer, she
moves, she cut a square from the back of Flamel s loose black T-shirt. Then
she dropped his leather jacket back in place and twisted the square of fabric
into a bandana, knotting it at the back of her head, covering her distinctive
hair.
This was my favorite T-shirt, Flamel muttered. It s vintage. He shifted
his shoulder uncomfortably. And now my back is cold.
don't be such a baby. I ll buy you a new one, Scatty said. She caught
Sophie s hand. Come on. Let s go. See you at the Tower.
Do you know the way? Nicholas called after her.
Scatty laughed. I lived here for nearly sixty years, remember? I was here
when the tower was built.
Flamel nodded. Well, try not to draw attention to yourself.
I ll try.
Sophie , Josh began.
I know, his sister answered, be careful. She turned back and hugged her
brother quickly, their auras crackling. Everything s going to be all right,
she said softly, reading the fear in his eyes.
Josh forced himself to smile, and he nodded. How do you know? Magic?
I just know, she said simply. Her eyes blinked briefly silver. This is all
happening for a reason remember the prophecy. Everything s going to work out
fine.
I believe you, he said, even though he didn't. Be careful, and remember,
he added, no wind.
Sophie hugged him quickly again. No wind, she whispered in his ear, and
then spun away.
Nicholas and Josh watched Scatty and Sophie disappear down the street,
heading toward the Metro station; then they turned in the opposite direction.
Just before they rounded a corner, Josh glanced back over his shoulder and
saw that his sister had done the same. They both raised their hands and waved
good-bye.
Josh waited until she had turned away and then lowered his hand. Now he was
truly alone, in a strange city, thousands of miles from home, with a man he
didn't trust, a man he had started to fear.
I thought you said you knew the way, Sophie said.
It s been a while since I was here, the Warrior admitted, and the streets
have changed quite a bit.
But you said you were here when the Eiffel Tower was built. She stopped,
abruptly realizing what she had just said. And when was that exactly? she
asked.
In 1889. I left a couple of months later.
Scathach stopped outside the Metro station and asked directions from a
newspaper and magazine seller. The tiny Chinese woman spoke very little
French so Scathach quickly switched to another language. Sophie abruptly
realized that she recognized it it was Mandarin. The smiling clerk came out
from behind the counter and pointed down the street, speaking so quickly that
Sophie was unable to pick up individual words, despite the Witch s knowledge
of the language. It sounded as if she were singing. Scathach thanked her,
then bowed, and the woman matched the bow.
Sophie caught the Warrior s arm and dragged her away. So much for not
attracting attention to yourself, she murmured. People were starting to
stare.
What were they staring at? Scathach asked, genuinely puzzled.
Oh, probably just the sight of a white girl speaking fluent Chinese and then
bowing, Sophie said with a grin. It was quite a performance.
One day everyone will speak Mandarin, and bowing is just good manners,
Scathach said, setting off down the street, following the directions the
woman had given.
Sophie fell into step beside her. Where did you learn Chinese? she asked.
In China. Actually, I was speaking Mandarin to the woman, but I also speak
Wu and Cantonese. I ve spent a lot of time in the Far East over the
centuries. I used to love it there.
They walked in silence, and then Sophie said, So how many languages do you
speak?
Scathach frowned, eyes briefly closing as she considered. Six or seven
Sophie nodded. Six or seven; that s impressive. My mom and dad want us to
learn Spanish, and Dad is teaching us Greek and Latin. But I d really like to
learn Japanese. I really want to visit Japan, she added.
six or seven hundred, Scathach continued, then laughed aloud at the
stunned expression on Sophie s face. She slipped her arm through Sophie s.
Well, I suppose a few of those would be dead languages, so I m not sure they
count, but remember, I ve been around for a very long time.
Have you really lived for two and a half thousand years? Sophie asked,
glancing sidelong at the girl who looked no older than seventeen. She
suddenly grinned: never once had she imagined herself asking a question like
that. It was just another example of how her life had changed.
Two thousand, five hundred and seventeen humani years. Scathach smiled a
tight-lipped smile that hid her vampire teeth. Hekate once abandoned me in a
particularly nasty Underworld Shadowrealm. It took me centuries to find my
way out. And when I was younger I spent a lot of time in the Shadowrealms of
Lyonesse, Hy-Brasil and Tir na nOg, where time moves at a different pace.
Shadowrealm time is not the same as humani time, so I really only count my
time on this earth. And who knows, you may get to find out for yourself. You
and Josh are unique and powerful and will grow even more powerful as you
master the elemental magics. If you don't discover the secret of immortality
yourselves, someone may offer it to you as a gift. Come on, let s cross.
Catching hold of Sophie s hand, she pulled her across a narrow road.
Although it had only just turned six in the morning, traffic was starting to
build. Vans were making deliveries to restaurants, and the chill morning air
was beginning to fill with the mouth-watering odors of fresh-baked bread and
pastries and percolating coffee. Sophie
breathed in the familiar fragrances:
croissants and coffee reminded her that only two days ago she had been
serving those in The Coffee Cup. She blinked away the sting of sudden tears.
So much had happened, so much had changed in the past two days. What s it
like to live so long? she wondered aloud.
Lonely, Scatty said quietly.
How long how long will you live? she asked the Warrior cautiously.
Scatty shrugged and smiled. Who knows? If I m careful, exercise regularly
and watch my diet, I could live another couple of thousand years. Then her
smile faded. But I m not invulnerable, nor am I invincible. I can be
killed. She saw the stricken look on Sophie s face and squeezed her arm.
But that s not going to happen. Do you know how many humani, immortals,
Elders, were-creatures and assorted monsters have tried to kill me?
The girl shook her head.
Well, nor do I, actually. But there have been thousands. Maybe even tens of
thousands. And I m still here; what does that tell you?
That you re good?
Hah! I m better than good. I am the best. I am the Warrior. Scathach
stopped and looked into a bookshop window, but Sophie noticed that when she
turned to talk, her bright green eyes were darting everywhere, taking in
their surroundings.
Resisting the temptation to turn around, Sophie lowered her voice to a
whisper. Are we being followed? She was surprised to discover that she
wasn't the least bit afraid; she knew, instinctively, that nothing could harm
her when she was with Scatty.
No, I don't think so. Just old habits. Scathach smiled. The same habits
that have kept me alive through the centuries. She moved away from the shop
and Sophie linked her arm with Scatty s.
Nicholas called you other names when we met you . Sophie frowned, trying to
remember how he d first introduced Scathach back in San Francisco only two
days ago. He called you the Warrior Maid, the Shadow, the Daemon Slayer, the
King Maker.
Those are just names, Scathach muttered, sounding embarrassed.
They sound like more than names, Sophie pressed. They sound like
titles titles you've earned? she persisted.
Well, I ve had lots of names, Scathach said, names my friends gave me,
names my foes called me. I was the Warrior Maid first, and then I became the
Shadow, because of my skills at concealment. I perfected the first camouflage