The road curved to the right, and Ojai’s long, straight main street appeared before him. He slowed as he passed the Psychic Boutique and the Ojai Playhouse; then the lights changed at Signal Street and he stopped, leaned across the steering wheel and peered through the smeared, bug-spattered windshield. His first impression as he looked down the empty street was that Ojai was surprisingly green. It was June in California, that time of year when most things had turned brown and withered, but here there were trees everywhere, contrasting with the white stone of the buildings. Directly in front of him, to his right, a low, ornate white stone tower rose over the post office into the brilliant blue sky, while on the left, a row of shops was set back from the road, sheltered beneath a row of white stone arches.
Glancing in the rearview mirror, he was surprised to find Scatty’s eyes on him.
“I thought you were asleep,” he said quietly. Sophie, who had moved up into the passenger seat beside him after a few hours of driving, lay curled up asleep, and Flamel snored gently beside Scatty.
“I’ve no need to sleep,” she said simply.
There were a lot of questions he really wanted to ask, but instead, he just said, “Do you know where we’re going?”
She leaned forward, rested her arms on the back of his seat and her chin on her arms. “Straight on, past the post office—that’s the building with the tower—then turn right after Libbey Park at Fox Street. Find a parking space down there.” She nodded to the left, toward a row of shops nestled under the white arches. “We’re going there.”
“Is that where your grandmother is?”
“Yes,” Scatty said shortly.
“And is she really a witch?”
“Not just a witch. She is the original Witch.”
“How do you feel?” Sophie asked. She stood on the sidewalk and stretched, standing on her toes and arching her back. Something popped in her neck. “That feels good,” she added, turning her face and closing her eyes against the sun, which was still high in the cloudless robin’s-egg blue heavens.
“I should be asking you that question,” Josh said, climbing out of the car. He yawned and stretched, rotating his head from side to side. “I never want to drive again,” he added. His voice dropped to little more than a whisper. “I’m glad you’re okay.” He hesitated. “You are okay, aren’t you?”
Sophie reached out to squeeze her brother’s arm. “I think so.”
Flamel climbed out of the car and slammed his door. Scatty had already moved away from the car to stand beneath the shelter of a tree. She’d dug a pair of mirrored sunglasses from her pocket and popped them onto her face. The Alchemyst went to join her as Josh hit the alarm on the key chain. The car blipped once and its lights flashed.
“We need to talk,” Flamel said quietly, though the side street was deserted. He ran his fingers through his close-cropped hair, and strands came away on his fingers. He looked at them for a moment, then brushed them on his jeans. Another year was etched onto his face, subtly deepening the lines around his eyes and the semicircular grooves on either side of his mouth. “This person we’re going to see can be…” He hesitated and then said, “…difficult.”
“You’re telling me,” Scatty muttered.
“What do you mean by difficult?” Josh asked in alarm. After everything they had just encountered, difficult could mean just about anything.
“Cranky, cantankerous, irritable…and that’s when she’s in a good mood,” Scatty said.
“And when she’s in a bad mood?”
“You don’t even want to be in the same city as her!”
Josh was puzzled. He turned to the Alchemyst. “Then why are we going to see her?”
“Because Perenelle told me to,” he said patiently, “because she is the Mistress of Air, and can teach Sophie the basics of elemental air magic, and because she can give Sophie some advice on how to protect herself.”
“From what?” Josh asked, startled.
“From herself,” Flamel said matter-of-factly, and turned away, heading back toward Ojai Avenue. Scatty moved out of the shadows and fell into step beside him. “Wish I’d brought sunscreen. I burn easily in this sunshine,” she grumbled as they walked away. “And wait till you see my freckles in the morning.”
Josh turned back to his sister; he was beginning to have some idea of the huge gulf of understanding that now separated him from his twin. “Do you have any idea what he was talking about? Protecting yourself from yourself? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I think I know.” Sophie frowned. “Everything around me is so…loud, so bright, so sharp, so intense. It’s like someone turned the volume up. My senses are so acute; you wouldn’t believe what I can hear.” She pointed to a battered red Toyota driving slowly down the road. “The woman in that car is talking on the phone to her mother. She’s telling her she doesn’t want fish for dinner.” She pointed to a truck parked in a yard on the opposite side of the street. “There’s a sticker on the back of the truck; do you want me to tell you what it says?”
Josh squinted; he couldn’t even read the license plate.
“When we ate earlier today, the taste of the food was so overwhelming it almost made me throw up. I could taste the individual grains of salt on the sandwich.” She stooped and picked a jacaranda leaf off the ground. “I can trace each vein in the back of this leaf with my eyes closed. But you know what’s worst of all? The smells,” she said, looking deliberately at her brother.
“Hey…” Ever since he’d hit puberty he’d tried every deodorant on the market.
“No, not just you”—she grinned—“though you’ve really got to change your deodorant, and I think you’re going to need to burn your socks. It’s all the scents, all the time. The stink of gas in the air is awful, the smell of hot rubber on the road, of greasy food, even the perfume from these flowers is overwhelming.” She stopped in the middle of the street, and her tone abruptly changed. She looked at her brother, and the tears she had no idea were there started to leak from her eyes. “It’s too much, Josh. It’s just too much. I feel sick and my head is pounding, my eyes hurt, my ears ache, my throat is raw.”
Josh awkwardly tried to put his arms around his sister to hug her, but she pushed him away. “Please, don’t touch me. I can’t bear it.”
Josh struggled to find words to respond, but there was nothing he could say or do. He felt so helpless. Sophie was always so strong, always in control; she was the person he went to when he was in trouble. She always had the answers.
Until now.
Flamel! Josh felt the anger flare again. This was Flamel’s fault. He would never forgive the Alchemyst for what he’d done. He looked up to see Flamel and Scathach turning back to them.
The Warrior came hurrying over to them. “Dry your eyes,” she commanded sternly. “Let’s not draw attention to ourselves.”
“Don’t talk to my sis—” Josh began, but Scatty silenced him with a look.
“Let’s get you into my grandmother’s shop; she’ll be able to help. It’s just across the road. Come on.”
Sophie obediently ran her sleeve across her eyes and followed the Warrior. She felt so helpless. She rarely cried—she’d even laughed at the ending of Titanic— so why was she crying now?
Awakening her magical potential had seemed like a wonderful idea. She’d loved the thought of being able to control and shape her will, of channeling her aura’s energy and working magic. But it hadn’t turned out like that. It had left her feeling battered and exhausted from the stimulation. It had left her in pain. That was why she was crying.
And she was terrified that the pain was not going to go away. And if it didn’t, then what would she do—what could she do?
Sophie looked up to find her brother staring hard at her, eyes wide with concern. “Flamel said the Witch will be able to help you,” he said.
“What if she can’t, Josh? What if she can’t?”
He had no answer to that.
Sophie and Josh cro
ssed Ojai Avenue and stepped under the arched promenade that ran the length of the block. The temperature immediately dropped to a bearable level, and Sophie realized that her shirt was sticking to the small of her back, ice cold against her spine.
They caught up with Nicholas Flamel, who had stopped in front of a small antiques shop, a dismayed look on his face. The shop was closed. Without saying a word, he tapped at the paper clock taped to the inside of the door. The hands were set to two-thirty and a handwritten scrawl beneath it said Gone to lunch, back at 2:30.
It was now close to three-thirty.
Flamel and Scatty leaned against the door, peering inside, while the twins looked through the window. The small shop seemed to sell only glassware: bowls, jugs, plates, paperweights, ornaments and mirrors. Lots of mirrors. They were everywhere, and in all shapes and sizes from tiny circles to huge rectangles. Much of the glass looked modern, but a few of the pieces in the window were obviously antiques.
“So what do we do now?” Flamel wondered. “Where can she be?”
“Probably wandered out to get lunch and forgot to come back,” Scatty said, turning to look up and down the street. “Hardly busy today, is it?” Even though it was late Friday afternoon, traffic was light on the main street, and there were fewer than a dozen pedestrians moving slowly beneath the covered promenade.
“We could check the restaurants,” Flamel suggested. “What does she like to eat?”
“Don’t ask,” Scatty said quickly, “you really do not want to know.”
“Maybe if we split up…,” Nicholas began.
On impulse Sophie leaned forward and turned the handle: a bell jangled musically and the door swung open.
“Nice one, Sis.”
“Saw it done in a movie once,” she muttered. “Hello?” she called, stepping into the shop.
There was no response.
The antiques shop was tiny, little more than a long rectangular room, but the effect of the hundreds of mirrors—some of which even dangled from the ceiling—made it look much bigger than it actually was.
Sophie threw back her head and breathed deeply, nostrils flaring. “Do you smell that?”
Her twin shook his head. The number of mirrors was making him nervous; he kept catching reflections of himself from all sides, and in every mirror, his image was different, broken or distorted.
“What do you smell?” Scatty asked.
“It’s like…” Sophie paused. “Like woodsmoke in the fall.”
“So she has been here.”
Sophie and Josh looked at her blankly.
“That’s the odor of the Witch of Endor. That’s the scent of eldritch magic.”
Flamel stood by the door looking up and down the street. “She can’t have gone far, if she left the shop unlocked. I’m going to go look for her.” He turned to Scatty. “How will I recognize her?”
She grinned, eyes bright and wicked. “Trust me; you’ll know her when you see her.”
“I’ll be back shortly.”
As Flamel stepped out into the street, a big motorcycle pulled up almost directly outside the shop. The rider sat there for a moment and then gunned his engine and roared away. The noise was incredible: all the glassware in the tiny shop shivered and vibrated with the sound. Sophie pressed both hands to her ears. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” she whispered tearfully.
Josh led his sister to a plain wooden chair and made her sit down. He crouched on one side, wanting to hold her hand, but frightened of touching her. He felt utterly useless.
Scatty knelt down directly in front of Sophie, so that their faces were level. “When Hekate Awakened you, she didn’t have a chance to teach you how to turn your Awakened senses on and off. Your senses are stuck on at the moment, but it won’t be like that all the time, I promise you. With a little training and a few basic protective spells, you’ll learn to turn your senses on for just the briefest of periods.”
Josh looked at the two girls. Once again, he felt apart from his twin: truly apart. They were fraternal twins, and therefore not genetically identical. They didn’t share those feelings that identical twins often spoke about—feeling pain when the other twin was hurt, knowing when they were in trouble—but right now he could feel his sister’s distress. He only wished there was something he could do to ease her pain.
Almost as if she could read his mind, Scatty said suddenly, “There is something I can do that might help.” The twins picked up on the note of hesitation in her voice. “It will not hurt,” she added quickly.
“It can’t hurt more than what I’m feeling now,” Sophie whispered. “Do it,” she said quickly.
“I need your permission first.”
“Soph—” Josh began, but his sister ignored him.
“Do it,” Sophie repeated. “Please,” she begged.
“I’ve told you I am what you humani call a vampire….”
“You are not drinking her blood!” Josh yelled, horrified. His stomach flipped over at the thought.
“I’ve told you before, my clan do not drink blood.”
“I don’t care—”
“Josh,” Sophie interrupted angrily, her aura winking into existence for a second with her anger, filling the interior of the shop with the sudden sweetness of vanilla ice cream. A display of glass wind chimes tinkled and rattled in an unfelt breeze. “Josh, be quiet.” She swiveled in the seat to look at Scatty. “What do you want me to do?”
“Give me your right hand.”
Sophie immediately stretched out her hand and Scatty took it in both of hers. Then she carefully matched the fingers of her left hand to the girl’s fingers, thumb to thumb, index finger to index finger, little finger to little finger. “Blood drinking vampires,” she said absently, concentrating on aligning their hands, “are really the weakest, the lowliest of our clan. Have you ever wondered why they drink blood? They’re actually dead—their hearts do not beat, they have no need to eat, so the blood provides no sustenance for them.”
“Are you dead?” Sophie asked the question Josh was just about to ask.
“No, not really.”
Josh looked into the mirrors, but he could clearly see Scathach’s reflection in the glass. She caught him looking and smiled. “Don’t believe that old rubbish about vampires not casting a reflection: of course we do; we are solid, after all.”
Josh watched intently as Scathach pressed her fingers to his sister’s. Nothing seemed to be happening. Then he caught a sparkle of silver in a mirror behind Scatty and he realized that in the glass, Sophie’s hand had begun to glow with a pale silver light.
“My race, the Clan Vampire,” Scatty continued very softly, staring at Sophie’s palm, “were of the Next Generation.”
In the mirror Josh saw that the silver light had begun to pool in Sophie’s palm.
“We were not Elders. All of us who were born after the fall of Danu Talis were completely unlike our parents; we were different in incomprehensible ways.”
“You’ve mentioned Danu Talis before,” Sophie murmured sleepily. “What is it, a place?” There was a warm, soothing feeling flowing up her arm, not unlike pins and needles, but tingling and pleasant.
“It was the center of the world in the Elder Times. The Elder Race ruled this planet from an island continent known as Danu Talis. It stretched from what is now the coast of Africa to the shores of North America and into the Gulf of Mexico.”
“I’ve never heard of Danu Talis,” Sophie whispered.
“Yes, you have,” Scathach said. “The Celts called it the De Danann Isle; this modern world knows it as Atlantis.”
In the mirror, Josh could see that Sophie’s hand was now glowing silver-white. It looked as if she were wearing a glove. Tiny sparking tendrils of silver wrapped themselves around Scatty’s fingers like ornate rings, and she shuddered.
“Danu Talis was ripped apart because the Ruling Twins—the Sun and Moon—fought on top of the Great Pyramid. The incredible magical forces they rele
ased upset the balance of nature. I’ve been told that that same wild magic swirling around the atmosphere caused the changes in the Next Generation. Some of us were born as monsters, others were caught between shapes, a few possessed extraordinary powers of transformation and could become beasts at will. And others, like those of us who eventually formed the Clan Vampire, found that we were unable to feel.”
Josh looked sharply at Scathach. “What do you mean, feel?”
The Warrior smiled and looked at him. Suddenly, her teeth seemed very long in her mouth. “We had little or no emotion. We lacked the capacity to feel fear, to experience love, to enjoy the sensations of happiness and delight. The finest warriors are not only those who do not know fear, but those who are without anger.”
Josh stepped back from Scatty and breathed deeply. His legs were beginning to cramp, and pins and needles were tingling in his toes. But he also needed to get away from the vampire. Now all the mirrors and polished glass surfaces in the shop showed the silver light flowing from Sophie’s hand up Scatty’s arm. It disappeared into her flesh before it reached her elbow.
Scatty turned her head to look at Josh, and he noticed that the whites of her eyes had turned silver. “Bloodsucking vampires don’t need the blood. They need the emotions, the sensations carried in the blood.”
“You’re stealing Sophie’s feelings,” Josh whispered, horrified. “Sophie, stop her….”