“Don’t move,” he murmured. “Wait. Look. Notice. If you keep those three words in mind, you just might survive the next few days.” Digging into his pocket, he picked out a quarter. Positioning it on his thumb, he flicked it into the air. It spun over and over and began to fall toward the middle of the hallway….
There was a barely perceptible hiss—and a needle-tipped dart punched right through the metal coin, impaling it in midair and pinning it to the opposite wall.
“You’ve left the safe and mundane world you once knew,” Nicholas Flamel said seriously, looking at each twin in turn. “Nothing is as it seems. You must learn to question everything. To wait before moving, to look before stepping and to observe everything. I learned these lessons in alchemy, but you will find them invaluable in this new world you’ve unwittingly wandered into.” He pointed down the corridor. “Look and observe. Tell me: what do you see?”
Josh spotted the first tiny hole in the wall. It was camouflaged to look like a knot in the wood. Once he found the first one, he realized that there were dozens of holes in the walls. He wondered if each hole held a tiny dart that was powerful enough to punch through metal.
Sophie noticed that the floor did not join neatly with the wall. In three separate places—on both the left-and right-hand sides, close to the skirting—there was a definite gap.
Flamel nodded. “Well done. Now watch. We’ve seen what the darts can do, but there is another defense….” He took a tissue out of his pocket and tossed it onto the floor, close to one of the narrow openings. There was a single metallic clink—and then a huge half-moon-shaped blade popped out from the wall, sliced the tissue into confetti and slid back into hiding.
“So if the darts don’t get you…,” Josh began.
“The blades will,” Sophie finished. “Well, how do we get to the door?”
“We don’t,” Flamel said, and turned to push on the wall to the left. An entire section clicked open and swung back, allowing the trio to step into a huge, airy room.
The twins recognized the room immediately: it was a dojo, a martial arts school. Since they were little, they had studied tae kwon do in dojang like this across the United States as they traveled with their parents from university to university. Many schools had martial arts clubs on campus, and their parents always enrolled them in the best dojo they could find. Both Sophie and Josh were red belts, one rank below a black belt.
Unlike other dojos, however, this one was plain and unadorned, decorated in shades of white and cream, with white walls and black mats dotted across the floor. But what immediately caught their attention was the single figure dressed in a white T-shirt and white jeans sitting with its back to them in the center of the room. The figure’s spiky bright red hair was the only spot of color in the entire dojo.
“We’ve got a problem,” Nicholas Flamel said simply, addressing the figure.
“You’ve got a problem; that’s nothing to do with me.” The figure didn’t turn, but the voice was surprisingly both female and young, the accent soft and vaguely Celtic: Irish or Scottish, Sophie thought.
“Dee found me today.”
“It was only a matter of time.”
“He came after me with Golems.”
There was a pause. Still the figure didn’t turn. “He always was a fool. You don’t use Golems in a dry climate. That’s his arrogance.”
“He has taken Perenelle prisoner.”
“Ah. That’s tough. He’ll not harm her, though.”
“And he has the Codex.”
The figure moved, coming slowly to her feet and turning to face them. The twins were shocked to discover that they were looking at a girl not much older than themselves. Her skin was pale, dappled with freckles, and her round face was dominated by grass green eyes. Her red hair was so vibrant that Sophie wondered if she had dyed it that color.
“The Codex?” The accent was definitely Irish, Sophie decided. “The Book of Abraham the Mage?”
Nicholas Flamel nodded.
“Then you’re right, we do have a problem.”
Flamel reached into his pocket and pulled out the two pages Josh had torn from it. “Well, nearly all of the book. He’s missing the Final Summoning.”
The young woman hissed, the sound like that of water boiling, and a quick smile flickered across her face. “Which he will want, of course.”
“Of course.”
Josh was watching the red-haired young woman intently, noting how she stood perfectly still, like most of the martial arts teachers he knew. He glanced sidelong at his sister and raised his eyebrows in a silent question as he inclined his chin slightly toward the girl. Sophie shook her head. They were curious why Nicholas Flamel treated her with such obvious respect. Sophie had also come to the conclusion that there was something wrong about the girl’s expression, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. It was an ordinary face—perhaps the cheekbones were a little too prominent, the chin a little too pointed—but the emerald-colored eyes caught and held one’s attention…and then Sophie realized with a start that the irl didn’t blink.
The young woman suddenly threw back her head and breathed deeply, her nostrils flaring. “Is that why I can smell Eyes?”
Flamel nodded. “Rats and crows everywhere.”
“And you brought them here?” There was a note of accusation in her voice. “I’ve spent years building this place.”
“If Dee has the Codex, then you know what he will do with it.”
The young woman nodded. She turned her wide green eyes on the twins. “And these two?” she asked, finally acknowledging their presence.
“They were there when Dee attacked. They fought for me, and this young man managed to tear the pages from the book. This is Sophie and this is her twin, Josh.”
“Twins?” The young woman stepped forward, and looked at each of them in turn. “Not identical, but I can see the resemblance now.” She turned to Flamel. “You’re not thinking…?”
“I’m thinking it’s an interesting turn of events,” Flamel said mysteriously. He looked at the twins. “I would like to introduce you to Scathach. She’ll probably not tell you much about herself, so I’ll tell you that she is of the Elder Race and has trained every warrior and hero of legend for the past two thousand years. In mythology she is known as the Warrior Maid, the Shadow, the Daemon Slayer, the King Maker, the—”
“Oh, just call me Scatty,” the young woman said, her cheeks turning the same color as her hair.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Dr. John Dee crouched in the back of the car and attempted, not entirely successfully, to control his temper. The air was heavy with the odor of sulfur, and thin tendrils of yellow-white fire crackled around his fingertips and puddled on the floor. He had failed, and while his masters were particularly patient—they often instigated plans that took centuries to mature—their patience was now beginning to run out. And they were definitely not known for their compassion.
Unmoving, held by the warding spell, Perenelle Flamel watched him, eyes blazing with a combination of loathing and what might even have been fear.
“This is becoming complicated,” Dee muttered, “and I hate complications.”
Dee was holding a flat silver dish in his lap, into which he had poured a can of soda—the only liquid he had available. He always preferred to work with pure water, but technically any fluid would do. Crouched over the dish, he stared into the liquid and allowed a little of his own auric energy to trickle across the surface as he muttered the first words of the spell of scrying.
For a single moment there was just his own reflection in the dark liquid, then it shuddered and the soda began to bubble and boil furiously. When the liquid settled, the image in the bowl no longer reflected Dee’s face, but showed a curiously flat image, rendered in shades of purple-gray and greenish black. The viewpoint was close to the ground, shifting and moving with sickening rapidity.
“Rats,” Dee murmured, thin lips curling with distaste. He hated using rat
s as Eyes.
“I cannot believe you led them here,” Scatty said, shoving handfuls of clothes into a backpack.
Nicholas Flamel stood in the doorway of Scatty’s tiny bedroom, arms folded across his chest. “Everything happened so fast. It was bad enough when Dee got the Codex, but when I realized there were pages missing, I knew the twins would be in trouble.”
At the mention of the word twins, Scatty looked up from her packing. “They’re the real reason you’re here, aren’t they?”
Flamel suddenly found something very interesting to stare at on the wall.
Scatty strode across the small room, glanced out into the hall, to make sure Sophie and Josh were still in the kitchen, and then pulled Flamel into the room and pushed the door closed.
“You’re up to something, aren’t you?” she demanded. “This is about more than just the loss of the Codex. You could have taken Dee and his minions on your own.”
“Don’t be so sure. It’s been a long time since I fought, Scathach,” Flamel said gently. “The only alchemy I do now is to brew a little of the philosopher’s stone potion to keep Perenelle and myself young. Occasionally, I’ll make a little gold or the odd jewel when we need some money.”
Scatty coughed a short humorless laugh, and spun back to her packing. She had changed into a pair of black combat pants, steel-toed Magnum boots and a black T-shirt, over which she wore a black vest covered in pockets and zippers. She pushed a second pair of trousers into her backpack, found one sock and went looking for its match under her bed.
“Nicholas Flamel,” she said, her voice muffled by the blankets, “you are the most powerful alchemyst in the known world. Remember, I stood beside you when we fought the demon Fomor, and you were the one who rescued me from the dungeons of An Chaor-Thanach and not the other way around.” She came out from under the bed with the missing sock. “When the Rusalka were terrorizing St. Petersburg, you alone turned them back, and when Black Annis raged across Manitoba, I watched you defeat her. You alone faced down the Night Hag and her Undead army. You’ve spent more than half a millennium reading and studying the Codex, no one is more familiar with the stories and legends it holds—” Scatty stopped suddenly and gasped, green eyes widening. “That’s what this is about,” she said. “This is to do with the legend….”
Flamel reached out and pressed his forefinger to Scatty’s lips, preventing her from saying another word. His smile was enigmatic. “Do you trust me?” he asked her eventually.
Her response was immediate. “Without question.”
“Then trust me. I want you to protect the twins. And train them,” he added.
“Train them! Do you know what you’re asking?”
Flamel nodded. “I want you to prepare them for what is to come.”
“And what is that?” Scathach asked.
“I have no idea”—Flamel smiled—“except that it is going to be bad.”
“We’re fine, Mom, honestly, we’re fine.” Sophie Newman tilted the cell phone slightly so that her brother could listen in. “Yes, Perry Fleming was feeling sick. Something she ate, probably. She’s fine now.” Sophie could feel the beads of sweat gathering in the small hairs at the back of her neck. She was uncomfortable lying to her mother—even though her mother was so wrapped up in her work that she never bothered to check.
Josh and Sophie’s parents were archaeologists. They were known worldwide for their discoveries, which had helped reshape modern archaeology. They were among the first in their field to discover the existence of the new species of small hominids that were now commonly called Hobbits in Indonesia. Josh always said that their parents lived five million years in the past and were only happy when they were up to their ankles in mud. The twins knew that they were loved unconditionally, but they also knew that their parents simply didn’t understand them…or much else about modern life.
“Mr. Fleming is taking Perry out to their house in the desert and they’ve asked us if we’d like to go with them for a little break. We said we had to ask you first, of course. Yes, we spoke to Aunt Agnes; she said so long as it was OK with you. Say yes, Mom, please.”
She turned to her brother and crossed her fingers. He crossed his too; they had talked long and hard about what to say to their aunt and their mother before they made the calls, but they weren’t entirely sure what they were going to do if their mother said they couldn’t go.
Sophie uncrossed her fingers and gave her brother a thumbs-up. “Yes, I’ve got time off from the coffee shop. No, we won’t be a bother. Yes, Mom. Yes. Love to you, and tell Dad we love him too.” Sophie listened, then moved the phone away from her mouth. “Dad found a dozen Pseudo-arctolepis sharpi in near-perfect condition,” she reported. Josh looked blank. “A very rare Cambrian crustacean,” she explained.
Her brother nodded. “Tell Dad that’s great. We’ll keep in touch,” he called out.
“Love you,” Sophie said, cutting the conversation short, then hung up. “I hate lying to her,” she said immediately.
“I know. But you couldn’t really tell her the truth, now, could you?”
Sophie shrugged. “I guess not.”
Josh turned back to the sink. His laptop was perched precariously on the draining board next to his cell phone. He was using the cell to go online because, shockingly, there was no phone line or Internet connection in the dojo.
Scatty lived above the dojo in a small two-room apartment with a kitchen at one end of the hall and a bedroom with a tiny bathroom at the other. A little balcony connected the two rooms and looked down directly onto the dojo below. The twins were standing in the kitchen while Flamel brought Scatty up to date on the events of the past hour in her bedroom at the other end of the hall.
“What do you think of her?” Josh asked casually, concentrating on his laptop. He’d managed to get online, but the connection speed was crawlingly slow. He called up Altavista and typed in a dozen versions of Scathach before he finally got a hit with the correct spelling. “Here she is: twenty-seven thousand hits for Scathach, the shadow or the shadowy one,” he said, then added offhandedly, “I think she’s cool.”
Sophie picked up on the too-casual tone immediately. She smiled broadly and her eyebrows shot up. “Who? Oh, you mean the two-thousand-year-old warrior maid. Don’t you think she might be a little too old for you?”
A wash of color rose from beneath the neck of Josh’s T-shirt, painting his cheeks bright red. “Let me try Google,” he muttered, fingers rattling across the keyboard. “Forty-six thousand hits for Scathach,” he said. “Looks like she’s real too. Let’s see what Wiki has to say about her,” he went on, and then realized that Sophie wasn’t even looking at him. He turned to her and discovered that she was staring fixedly through the window.
There was a rat standing on the rooftop of the building across the alley, staring at them. As they watched, it was joined by a second and then a third.
“They’re here,” Sophie whispered.
Dee concentrated on keeping his lunch down.
Looking through the rat’s eyes was a nauseating experience. Because of their tiny brain, it required a huge effort of will to keep the creature focused…which, in an alleyway filled with rotten food, was no easy task. Dee was momentarily grateful that he had not used the full force of the scrying spell, which would have allowed him to hear, to taste and—this was a terrifying thought—to smell everything the rat encountered.
It was like looking at a badly tuned black-and-white television. The image shifted, pitched and lurched with the rat’s every movement. The rat could go from running horizontally on the ground, to running vertically up a wall, then upside-down across a rope, all within a matter of seconds.
Then the image stabilized.
Directly in front of Dee, outlined in purple-tinged gray and glowing in grayish black, were the two humans he had seen in the bookshop. A boy and a girl—in their midteens, perhaps—and similar enough in appearance for them to be related. A sudden thought struck him hard en
ough to break his concentration: brother and sister, possibly…or could they be something else? Surely not!
He looked back into the scrying dish and concentrated with his full will, forcing the rat he was controlling to stand absolutely still. Dee focused on the young man and woman, trying to decide if one was older than the other, but the rat’s vision was too clouded and distorted for him to be sure.
But if they were the same age…that meant they were twins. That was curious. He looked at them again and then shook his head: they were humans. Dismissing the thought, he unleashed a single command that rippled through every rat within a half-mile radius of the twins’ position. “Destroy them. Destroy them utterly.”
The gathering crows took to the air, cawing raucously, as if applauding.
Josh watched openmouthed as the huge rat leapt from the roof opposite, effortlessly bridging the six-foot space. Its mouth was wide and its teeth were wickedly pointed. He managed a brief “Hey!” and jerked away from the window…just as the rat hit the glass with a furry, wet thump. It slid down to the alley one floor below, where it staggered around in stunned surprise.
Josh grabbed Sophie’s hand, and dragged her out of the kitchen and onto the balcony. “We’ve got a problem,” he shouted. And stopped.
Below them, three huge Golems, trailing flaking dried mud, were pushing their way through the wide-open alley door. And behind them, in a long sinuous line, came the rats.
CHAPTER NINE
The three Golems moved stiffly into the corridor, spotted the open door at the far end of the hallway and moved toward it. The finger-length metal darts hissed from the walls and stuck deeply into their hardened mud skin, but didn’t even slow the creatures down.