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    Nicholas Flamel 1 - The Alchemyst sotinf-1

    Page 9
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      Sophie screamed and Josh jerked the wheel, attempting to knock the

      evil-looking creature off, but it had hooked its feet into the raised ridges

      on the hood. It cocked its head to one side, looking first at Josh, then

      Sophie, and then, in two short hops, it came right up to the windshield and

      deliberately peered inside, black eyes glittering.

      It pecked at the glass and a tiny starred puncture mark appeared.

      It shouldn t be able to do that, Josh said, trying to keep his eyes on the

      road.

      The crow pecked again and another hole appeared. Then there was a thump,

      followed by a second and a third, and three more crows landed on the roof of

      the car. The metal roof pinged as the birds began to peck at it.

      I hate crows. Scathach sighed. She rooted through her bag and pulled out a

      set of nunchaku two twelve-inch lengths of ornately carved wood linked by

      four and a half inches of chain. She tapped the sticks in the palm of her

      hand. Pity we haven t got a sunroof, she said. I could get out there and

      give them a little taste of this.

      Flamel pointed to where a long shaft of sunlight was coming through a pinhole

      in the roof. We may soon have. Besides, he added, these are not normal

      crows. The three on the roof and the one on the hood are Dire-Crows, the

      Morrigan s special pets.

      The huge bird on the hood tapped the windshield again, and this time, its

      beak actually penetrated the glass.

      I m not sure what I can do , Scathach began, and then Sophie leaned over

      and hit the windshield wiper switch. The heavy blades activated and simply

      swept the bird off the hood in a flurry of feathers and a shrill croak of

      surprise. The red-haired warrior grinned. Well, there is that, of course.

      Now the rest of the birds had reached the SUV. They settled on the vehicle in

      a great blanket. First dozens, then hundreds gathered on the roof, the hood,

      the doors, clutching every available opening. If one fell off or lost its

      grip, dozens more fought for its place. The noise inside the car was

      incredible as thousands of birds pecked and tapped at the metal, the glass,

      the doors. They tore into the rubber molding around the windows, ripped into

      the spare tire on the back of the SUV, tearing it to shreds. There were so

      many on the hood, pressed up against the windshield, that Josh couldn t see

      where he was going. He took his foot off the accelerator and the car

      immediately started to slow.

      Drive! Flamel'shouted. If you stop, we are truly lost.

      But I Can't see!

      Flamel leaned through the seats and stretched out his right hand. Sophie

      suddenly saw the small circular tattoo on the underside of his wrist. A cross

      ran through the circle, the arms of the cross extending over the edges of the

      circle. For a single instant it glowed and then the Alchemyst snapped his

      fingers. A tiny ball of hissing, sizzling flame appeared on his fingertips.

      Close your eyes, he commanded. Without waiting to see if they obeyed, he

      flicked it toward the glass.

      Even through their closed lids, the twins could see the searing light that

      lit up the interior of the car.

      Now drive, Nicholas Flamel commanded.

      When the twins opened their eyes, most of the crows were gone from the hood,

      and those few that remained looked dazed and shocked.

      That'snot going to hold them for long, Scatty said. She looked up as a

      razor-sharp beak punched a hole straight through the metal roof. She snapped

      out the nunchaku. She held one stick in her hand, while the other, attached

      to the short chain, shot out with explosive force and cracked against the

      beak embedded in the roof. There was a startled shriek and the beak slightly

      bent disappeared.

      Sophie turned her head to peer in her side mirror. It was dangling off the

      car, barely held on by a shred of metal and some wire. She could see more

      birds thousands of them flying in to replace those that had been swept away,

      and she knew then that they were not going to make it. There were simply too

      many of them.

      Listen, Nicholas Flamel'said suddenly.

      I don't hear anything, Josh said grimly.

      Sophie was just about to agree with him when she heard the sound. And she

      suddenly felt the hairs on her arms prickle and rise. Low and lonely, the

      noise hovered just at the edge of her hearing. It was like a breeze, one

      moment sounding soft and gentle, the next louder, almost angry. A peculiar

      odor wafted into the car.

      What is that smell? Josh asked.

      Smells like spicy oranges, Sophie said, breathing deeply.

      Pomegranates, Nicholas Flamel'said.

      And then the wind came.

      It howled across the bay, warm and exotic, smelling of cardamom and

      rosewater, lime and tarragon, and then it raced along the length of the

      Golden Gate Bridge, plucking the birds off the struts, lifting them off the

      cars, pulling them out of the air. Finally the pomegranate-scented wind

      reached the SUV. One moment the car was surrounded by birds; the next, they

      were gone, and the car was filled with the scents of the desert, of dry air

      and warm sand.

      Sophie hit a button and the scarred and pitted window jerked down. She craned

      her neck out the SUV, breathing in the richly scented air. The huge flock of

      birds was being pulled high into the sky, borne aloft on the breeze. When one

      escaped one of the big Dire-Crows, Sophie thought it was quickly caught by a

      tendril of the warm breeze and pushed back into the rest of the flock. From

      underneath, the mass of birds looked like a dirty cloud and then the cloud

      dispersed as the birds scattered, leaving the sky blue and clear again.

      Sophie looked back along the length of the bridge. The Golden Gate was

      completely impassable; cars were pointed in every direction, and there had

      been dozens of minor accidents, which blocked the lanes and of course,

      effectively prevented anyone from following them, she realized. Every vehicle

      was spattered and splotched with white bird droppings. She looked at her

      brother and saw with a shock that there was a tiny smear of blood on his

      bottom lip. She pulled a tissue from her pocket. You re cut! she said

      urgently, licking the edge of the tissue and dabbing at her twin s face.

      Josh pushed her hand away. Stop. That'sdisgusting. He touched his lip with

      his little finger. I must have bit it. I didn't even feel it. He took the

      tissue from his sister s hand and rubbed his chin. It s nothing. Then he

      smiled quickly. Did you see the mess the birds left back there? Sophie

      nodded. He made a disgusted face. Now, that is going to smell!

      Sophie leaned back against the seat, relieved that her brother was fine. When

      she d seen the blood she d been truly frightened. A thought struck her and

      she turned around to look at Flamel. Did you call up the wind?

      He smiled and shook his head. No, I ve no control over the elements. That

      skill rests solely with the Elders and a very few rare humans.

      Sophie looked at Scatty, but the Warrior shook her head. Beyond my very

      limited abilities.

      But you did summon the wind? Sophie persisted.

      Flamel handed Sophie back her phone. I just phon
    ed in a request, he said,

      and smiled.

      CHAPTER THIRTEEN

      T urn here, Nicholas Flamel instructed.

      Josh eased his foot off the accelerator and turned the battered and scarred

      SUV down a long narrow track that was barely wide enough to accommodate the

      car. They had spent the last thirty minutes driving north out of San

      Francisco, listening to the increasingly hysterical radio reports as a

      succession of experts gave their opinions about the bird attack on the

      bridge. Global warming was the most commonly cited theory: the sun s

      radiation interfering with the birds natural navigation system.

      Flamel directed them north, toward Mill Valley and Mount Tamalpais, but they

      quickly left the highway and stuck to narrow two-lane roads. Traffic thinned

      out until there were long stretches where they were the only car in sight.

      Finally, on a narrow road that curved and turned with sickening complexity,

      he had Josh slow almost to a crawl. He rolled down his window and peered out

      into a thick forest that came right up to the edge of the road. They had

      actually driven past the unmarked path before Flamel'spotted it. Stop. Go

      back. Turn here.

      Josh looked at his sister as he eased the car onto the rough, unpaved and

      rutted track. Her hands were folded in her lap, but he could see that her

      knuckles were white with tension. Her nails, which had been neat and perfect

      only a few hours previously, were now rough and chewed, a sure sign of her

      stress. He reached over and squeezed her hand; she squeezed tightly in

      return. As with so much of the communication between them, there was no need

      for words. With their parents away so much, Sophie and Josh had learned from

      a very early age that they could only really depend on themselves. Moving

      from school to school, neighborhood to neighborhood, they often found it

      difficult to make and keep friends, but they knew that whatever happened,

      they would always have each other.

      On either side of the overgrown path, trees rose high into the heavens and

      the undergrowth was surprisingly thick: wild brambles and thorn bushes

      scraped at the side of the car, while furze, gorse, and stinging nettles,

      wrapped through with poison ivy, completed the impenetrable hedge.

      I ve never seen anything like it, Sophie murmured. It s just not natural.

      And then she stopped, realizing what she d just said. She swiveled around in

      the seat to look at Flamel. It s not natural, is it?

      He shook his head, suddenly looking old and tired. There were dark rings

      under his eyes, and the wrinkles on his forehead and around his mouth seemed

      deeper. Welcome to our world, he whispered.

      There s something moving through the undergrowth, Josh announced loudly.

      Something big I mean really big. After everything he d seen and experienced

      so far today, his imagination started working overtime. It s keeping pace

      with the car.

      So long as we stay on the track, we shall be fine, Flamel'said evenly.

      Sophie peered into the dark forest floor. For a moment she saw nothing, then

      she realized that what she d first taken for a patch of shadow was, in fact,

      a creature. It moved, and sunlight dappled its hairy hide. She caught a

      glimpse of a flat face, a pug nose and huge curling tusks.

      It s a pig a boar, she corrected herself. And then she spotted three more,

      flanking the right-hand side of the car.

      They re on my side too, Josh said. Four of the hulking beasts were moving

      through the bushes to his left. He glanced in the rearview mirror. And

      behind us.

      Sophie, Scatty and Nicholas turned in their seats to stare through the rear

      window at the two enormous boars that had slipped through the undergrowth and

      were trotting along on the path behind them. Sophie suddenly realized just

      how big the creatures were each one was easily the size of a pony. They were

      hugely muscled across the shoulders, and the tusks jutting up from their

      lower jaws were enormous, starting out as thick as her wrist before tapering

      to needle-sharp points.

      I didn't think there were any wild boars in America, Josh said, and

      certainly not in Mill Valley, California.

      There are wild boars and pigs all over the Americas, Flamel'said absently.

      They were first brought over by the Spanish in the sixteenth century.

      Josh shifted gears, eased off the accelerator and allowed the car to move

      forward at a crawl. The road had come to a dead end. The barrier of bushes,

      thorns and trees now stretched across the path. End of the road, he

      announced, putting the car into park and setting the emergency brake. He

      looked left and right. The boars had also stopped moving, and he could see

      them, four to a side, watching. In the rearview mirror, he could see that the

      two larger boars had stopped too. They were boxed in. What now, he wondered,

      what now? He looked at his sister and knew she was thinking exactly the same

      thing.

      Nicholas Flamel leaned forward between the seats and looked at the barrier.

      I believe this is here to discourage the foolhardy who have traveled this

      far. And if one were exceptionally foolish, one might be tempted to get out

      of one s vehicle.

      But we are neither foolhardy nor foolish, Scatty snapped. So what do we

      do? She nodded at the boars. I haven t seen this breed in centuries. They

      look like Gaulish war boars, and if they are, then they are virtually

      impossible to kill. For every one we can see, there are probably at least

      three more in the shadows, and That'snot counting their handlers.

      These are not Gaulish; this particular breed has no need of handlers,

      Flamel'said gently, the merest hint of his French accent surfacing. Look at

      their tusks.

      Sophie, Josh and Scatty turned to look at the tusks of the huge creatures

      standing in the middle of the track behind them. They ve got some sort of

      carvings on them, Sophie said, squinting in the late-afternoon light.

      Curls.

      Spirals, Scatty said, a touch of wonder in her voice. She looked at Flamel.

      They are Torc Allta?

      Indeed they are, Flamel'said. Wereboars.

      By wereboars, Josh said, do you mean like werewolves?

      Scatty shook her head impatiently. No, not like werewolves

      That'sa relief, Josh said, because for a second there I thought you were

      taking about humans who changed into wolves.

      Werewolves are Torc Madra, Scatty continued, as if she hadn't heard him.

      They re a different clan altogether.

      Sophie stared hard at the nearest boar. Beneath its piglike features, she

      thought she could begin to see the shapes and planes of a human face, while

      the eyes cool and bright, bright blue regarded her with startling

      intelligence.

      Josh turned back to the steering wheel, gripping it tightly. Wereboars of

      course they are different from werewolves. Different clan entirely, he

      muttered, how silly of me.

      What do we do? Sophie asked.

      We drive, Nicholas Flamel'said.

      Josh pointed at the barrier. What about that?

      Just drive, the Alchemyst commanded.

      But , Josh began.

      Do you trust me? Flamel asked for the second time that d
    ay. The twins

      looked at each other, then back at Flamel, and nodded, heads bobbing in

      unison. Then drive, he said gently.

      Josh eased the heavy SUV into gear and released the emergency brake. The

      vehicle crept forward. The front bumper touched the seemingly impenetrable

      barrier of leaves and bushes and vanished. One moment it was there; the next,

      it was as if the bushes had swallowed the front of the car.

      The SUV rolled into the bushes and trees, and for a single instant everything

      went dark and chill, and the air was touched with something bittersweet like

      burnt sugar and then the path appeared again, curving off to the right.

      How , Josh began.

      It was an illusion, Flamel explained. Nothing more. Light twisted and

      bent, reflecting the images of trees and bushes in a curtain of water vapor,

      each drop of moisture acting as a mirror. And just a little magic, he added.

      He pointed ahead with a graceful motion. We re still in North America, but

      now we've entered the domain of one of the oldest and greatest of the Elder

      Race. We ll be safe here for a while.

      Scatty made a rude sound. Oh, she s old, all right, but I m not so sure

      about great.

      Scathach, I want you to behave yourself, Flamel'said, turning to the

      young-looking but ancient woman sitting beside him.

      I don't like her. I don't trust her.

      you've got to put aside your old feuds.

      She tried to kill me, Nicholas, Scatty protested. She abandoned me in the

      Underworld. It took me centuries to find my way out.

      That was a little over fifteen hundred years ago, if I remember my

      mythology, Flamel reminded her.

      I ve got a long memory, Scatty muttered; for an instant she looked like a

      sulky child.

      Who are you talking about? Sophie demanded, and then Josh hit the brakes,

      bringing the heavy car to a halt.

      wouldn't be a tall woman with black skin, would it? windshield Josh asked.

      Sophie spun around to look through the cracked, while Flamel and Scatty

      leaned forward.

      That'sher, Scatty said glumly.

      The figure stood in the path directly in front of the car. Tall and broad,

      the woman looked as if she had been carved from a solid slab of jet-black

      stone. The merest fuzz of white hair covered her skull like a close-fitting

      cap, and her features were sharp and angular: high cheekbones; straight,

     


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