“Not funny. Not funny at all. I blame you, Virginia,” Dee growled.
“I thought a little splash of water would wake you up.” She looked at Josh. “He has always been a terrible sailor. It was one of the reasons he missed the Spanish Armada. And he’s always had a queasy stomach,” she added, “which makes the scent he chose for himself all the more surprising.”
“I like the smell of sulfur,” Dee muttered from the back of the boat.
“Wait.” Josh forgot the sick Magician for a moment. “You get to choose your aura scent?” It was the first he’d heard anything about this. He wondered if he could change his to something more dramatic. “You can pick any smell?”
“Of course. Well, except for those with gold or silver auras. They have no choice: since time immemorial, apparently, they have always smelled the same.” She turned back to Dee, hair whipping around her face and gathering at the corner of her mouth as she spoke. “How did you manage to acquire this boat?”
“I asked nicely,” he mumbled. “I can be very persuasive when I want to be.” He twisted around to look back at the Treasure Island Marina, where an elderly man in a white baseball cap was sitting on the jetty, looking blankly into the water. Then, shaking his head, the man stood up and wandered back toward the yacht club.
“We didn’t steal this boat, did we?” Josh asked, vaguely uncomfortable with the thought.
“We borrowed it.” Dee smirked. “He voluntarily gave me the keys.”
“You didn’t use any of your aura again, did you?” Virginia said in alarm. “That would alert everything—”
“Don’t take me for a fool!” Dee interrupted angrily, but then had to lean over the boat as another bout of nausea gripped him.
Virginia grinned and winked at Josh. “It’s hard to sound masterful when you’re throwing up, isn’t it?”
“I hate you, Virginia Dare,” Dee mumbled.
“I know you don’t really mean that,” she said lightly.
“I do,” he croaked.
Virginia tapped Josh on the shoulder and pointed to the shoreline on the left. “Stay close to Treasure Island. We’ll follow it all the way around to the northern tip; then we should be able to see Alcatraz across the bay.”
Before Josh could answer, an enormous pier, like a wall of concrete, appeared directly in front of them and he turned the wheel to the right. He overcompensated and the boat lurched at a sharp angle, almost pitching Dee over the side. Water sloshed in and the Magician scrambled to hold on, only to slip and land sitting in a puddle of oily water.
Virginia howled with laughter.
“You forget I have no sense of humor,” Dee snapped.
“But I do,” Virginia said. She turned back to Josh and pointed directly ahead. “Keep right and go around the pier, then swing back to the left again and stay close to the beach. But not too close,” she added. “Some rocks may have come loose from the shore. This is an artificial island, and it’s always in danger of falling apart. I watched it being built in the 1930s, and back then it was higher than it is today. The entire island is slowly sinking. The next big earthquake will probably shake it to pieces.”
Josh glanced at the rocky shoreline. Most of the buildings seemed to be industrial, and many looked run-down. “It looks deserted. Does anyone live here anymore?”
“Yes. As a matter of fact, I actually have some friends who live on the other side of the island.”
“I didn’t think you had any friends,” Dee grumbled.
“Unlike you, Doctor, I am a good friend,” Dare said without turning around, then continued, “The island was a naval base until it closed in the late nineties. After that a bunch of movies and a few TV series were shot on it.”
“Why is it called Treasure Island?” Josh asked. “Was there ever any treasure?” There was a time when he’d have laughed at the idea, but right now he was prepared to believe almost anything.
Virginia’s laughter was infectious, and Josh found himself liking her more and more. “No. It was called Treasure Island after the book of the same name written by Robert Louis Stevenson. Stevenson lived in San Francisco for a year or so before he wrote the book.” As they rounded the top of the island, Virginia stood to look back at it. “I’m sure it was named as a joke—here’s an island built on scraps and junk called Treasure Island.” She turned and pointed straight ahead to a surprisingly small speck of rock in the middle of the bay. “And there’s Alcatraz. Just keep the nose pointed straight for it.”
Josh grunted as the boat hit another wave. It rose and fell back with a bone-shaking bang. “It’s farther away than I thought it would be. I’ve never been this far out from shore before. I’ve never even driven a boat before.”
“One should always embrace new experiences,” Virginia said.
“I’m a little nervous,” he admitted.
“Why?” Virginia asked curiously. She sat back in the vinyl-covered chair and looked at him.
The young man suddenly felt uncomfortable under her intense scrutiny. “Well,” he said eventually, “anything might happen. The boat could sink, or the engine could break down, or …”
“Or what?” she asked. “Do you know, in my experience, humani waste too much time worrying about things that will never happen. Yes, the boat could sink … but it probably will not. The engine might stall … but I doubt it. We could also be hit by lightning, or—”
Dr. John Dee suddenly scrambled up from the back of the boat. “Or eaten by mermaids,” he said urgently. “I just remembered. The island is surrounded by a protective ring of Nereids.” He coughed in embarrassment. “And I gave them instructions not to allow anything to get within fifty feet of it.”
Virginia spun around. “There are mermaids around the island?”
“The Old Man of the Sea is on Alcatraz, and he brought the wild Nereids with him,” Dee said. “I need to get hold of Machiavelli! He needs to tell Nereus that we’re coming.” He pulled out his cell phone, but when he flipped it open, water poured from it. Without pausing, Dee pulled his phone apart, popped out the battery and wiped it on his grubby shirt.
Josh looked at Virginia. “I have no idea what he just said.”
“Nereus, the Old Man of the Sea, is a particularly foul Elder,” Virginia explained. “He’s human-looking as far as his waist, and then he becomes octopus. He claims the lower part of the oceans as his domain. The largest of his watery Shadowrealms touches this earth around the place known as the Bermuda Triangle.”
“Where all the ships disappear?” Josh asked.
“Right there. The walls between his world and this are worn thin, and occasionally ships or planes from this world slip into his, or some foul sea monster from his world slinks through into the Earth Shadowrealm. The Nereids are his daughters.” Virginia smiled. “Do not allow yourself to be tempted too close to the water by their smiles or songs. They are flesh eaters.”
Dee hurriedly reassembled his phone and powered it on. Then he flung it away in disgust. “Nothing. I have no way of getting in touch with Machiavelli.”
Virginia produced her wooden flute and spun it in her fingers. “I don’t know why you’re so worried, Doctor. I can easily lull them to sleep with—”
Before she could finish her sentence a green-skinned, green-haired, fish-tailed woman had leapt straight up out of the sea, snatched the flute from Virginia’s fingers and splashed back into the water on the opposite side of the boat, leaving her empty-handed.
Virginia Dare’s scream was hideous. Flinging off her smoke-stained jacket and pulling off her shoes, she launched herself over the side of the boat and disappeared beneath the waves without a trace.
“Doctor!” Josh yelled over the noise of the motor. He raised his left arm to point, and he was pleased that his fingers didn’t shake too badly.
Dee hurried forward and leaned over the prow of the boat.
The sea ahead of them was dotted with women’s heads, green hair spread out about them like seaweed. As one, they o
pened their mouths to reveal piranha-like teeth. And then they launched themselves toward the boat, dipping in and out of the water like dolphins.
“Now we’re in trouble,” Dee said. “Deep, deep trouble.”
ophie Newman stood in the kitchen and looked out on the small paved patio where Perenelle Flamel and Tsagaglalal sat together. To any casual observer, they looked like two elderly ladies, one tall and thin but strong, the other short and frail, sitting under a large candy-striped umbrella drinking iced tea and nibbling chocolate chip cookies. But these were no ordinary ladies: one was almost seven hundred years old, and the other … well, Sophie doubted if the other was even human.
Both women turned to look at her, and although they were beneath the dark shade of the umbrella, their eyes were glowing—green and gray—giving their faces an alien appearance.
Tsagaglalal beckoned Sophie out of the house. “Come here, child. Sit with us. We have been waiting for you.” She had not spoken English, but Sophie understood her and recognized the ancient language of Danu Talis. When she went to stand by the old woman, Tsagaglalal caught her hand. “Have you no kiss for your favorite auntie?” she asked, reverting to English.
Sophie jerked her hand away. She had no idea what this woman was—or even if she was a woman—but she was definitely no relative of hers. “You’re not my aunt,” she said coldly.
“Not by blood, but you are family to me. Always have been,” Tsagaglalal said, almost sadly, “always will be. I have watched over you and your brother from the moment of your birth.”
Sophie swallowed the sudden lump in her throat but sat down without kissing the old woman’s proffered cheek. There was a glass of iced tea and chocolate chip cookies already set out on a plate for her. She picked up the tea but then noticed the slice of orange floating in the drink. The scent reminded her of Josh, and she felt her stomach lurch. She put it down untasted and pushed the plate of cookies away. A sudden wave of absolute despair washed over her. In the last week, she had lost everything, including her brother. Even the touchstones of her past—like her aunt—had disappeared. She felt lost and utterly alone.
“Are you not hungry?” Tsagaglalal asked.
“How can you even ask me that question?” Sophie’s anger was palpable. “No, I’m not hungry. I’m sick to my stomach. Josh is gone—and he hates me. I saw it in his eyes.”
The two women looked at one another.
Sophie rounded on Perenelle. “And Nicholas is dying upstairs. Why aren’t you up there with him?”
“I will go to him when it is time,” the Sorceress whispered.
Sophie shook her head and suddenly there were furious tears in her eyes. “What are you?” she demanded of Tsagaglalal. “You’re not … you’re not even human. And you,” she accused Perenelle, “you’re just inhuman! I hate you. All of you. I hate what you’ve done to Josh and me. I hate this world you’ve dragged us into. I hate these powers, and knowing stuff I shouldn’t know, and having my thoughts invaded.…” Huge tears rolled down her face, but she didn’t want them to see her cry. Gripping the edge of the table, she tried to push her chair back, but suddenly Tsagaglalal and Perenelle both reached out and placed their hands on hers. Sophie’s aura blazed for a moment, but it fizzled and died, and the girl’s vanilla odor was swamped by the scent of jasmine. Perenelle’s aura had no scent.
“Stay,” Perenelle said coldly, and it was not an invitation. Sophie couldn’t move. It was as if she had suddenly slipped into a dream. She was awake and alert, but there was no feeling in her body.
“Listen to the Sorceress,” Tsagaglalal said gently. “The fate not only of this world but of all worlds now hangs in the balance, and both you and your brother have the power to tip it one way or another. All the time lines have converged, as was prophesied ten thousand years ago. Circumstances have conspired to confirm that you are indeed the twins of legend.” Her gray eyes filled with tears. “I wish it were otherwise, for your sakes. This is a hard road you must follow. Josh is with Dee, and this too, believe it or not, was foretold millennia ago. What was not foreseen—what could not be foretold—was Dee’s insanity and what he proposes to do.”
“Sophie,” Perenelle Flamel said quietly, “you have to believe me when I tell you that I wish none of this had happened to you or Josh. Do you believe that?”
Sophie wasn’t sure what to believe anymore. She wanted to trust the Sorceress, and yet … something prevented her. The woman had lied to her, but the Flamels had been living a lie for centuries. Sophie guessed that they lied only to protect themselves and those around them. Still, Josh hadn’t wanted to trust the Flamels. Maybe he’d been right. Maybe going with Dee had been the correct decision. The sudden thought chilled her: what if she was on the wrong side in this age-old battle?
The truth—the cold, bitter truth—was that she simply did not know. Right and wrong, good and bad, had become twisted and confused. She couldn’t even distinguish friends from enemies anymore.
Tsagaglalal and Perenelle lifted their hands off Sophie’s at the same time, and the feeling flowed back into her body. Her silver aura flared and crackled protectively around her, steaming in the early-afternoon sunlight. She drew in a great heaving breath but made no move to leave the table.
“Sophie, what will you do to help Josh, to save him, to bring him back?” Tsagaglalal asked.
“Anything. Everything.”
Perenelle leaned forward to place both forearms on the table. Her hands were tightly locked together, knuckles white with tension. “And Sophie, what do you think I will do to help my husband?”
“Anything,” Sophie said again. “Everything.”
“We will do anything—everything—to help those we love. That is what separates the humani from the Next Generation or the Elders or those who came before them. That is what makes us human. That is why the race thrives; it is why the race will always survive.”
“But that type of love requires sacrifice,” Tsagaglalal said slowly. “Sometimes extraordinary sacrifices …” The old woman’s gray eyes suddenly swam with huge tears.
And Sophie had a flickering memory of a woman—younger, so much younger, but with the same high cheekbones and gray eyes of Tsagaglalal—turning away from a tall golden statue. The woman stopped and looked back, and Sophie discovered that the statue’s bright gray eyes were alive and were following the woman. Then Tsagaglalal turned and raced down endless glass stairs. She was clutching a book in both hands: the Codex. And her tears dripped onto the metal surface.
“Sophie,” Perenelle continued, “more than ten thousand years ago, Abraham the Mage foresaw all this, and he began to put in place a plan to help save the world. You and your twin were chosen for these roles long before you were born. You were spoken about in a prophecy that predates the Fall of Danu Talis and the Flood.”
“ ‘The two that are one, the one that is all. One to save the world, one to destroy it,’ ” Tsagaglalal quoted. “This is your destiny. And no one can escape their destiny.”
“My father says that all the time.”
“Your father is correct.”
“Are you saying that my brother and I are just puppets?” Sophie began, but her mouth was dry and she took a long swallow of the cold drink in front of her. “We don’t have free will?”
“Of course you do,” Perenelle said. “Josh made a choice, and all choices are made out of love or hate. He decided to go with Dee—not because he liked him, but because, when he saw you attack the Archon, he hated you. He saw Coatlicue as a beautiful young woman and not as the hideous creature that she really is. And you … well, now you need to decide what you are going to do.”
Perenelle’s words stung. Josh hated her. And yet Sophie knew it was true. She’d seen it in his eyes. But it didn’t matter what he thought of her—it didn’t change what she knew in her own heart and how she felt about him. “I’m going after Josh.”
“Even though he abandoned you?” Tsagaglalal asked gently.
“You s
aid that all choices are made out of love or hate. He’s my brother. I’m going after him. That’s my choice.”
“And where will you go?” Perenelle asked.
Sophie looked at her blankly. She had no idea. “I’ll find him,” she said with a confidence she didn’t feel. “When … when he’s in trouble, or pain, I can usually feel it. Sometimes I even get flashes of what he’s seeing.”
“Can you feel him now?” Tsagaglalal asked, clearly curious.
Sophie shook her head. “But I have the Witch of Endor’s knowledge within me. Maybe I can draw on that.”
“I doubt the Witch foresaw this latest turn of events,” Tsagaglalal said. “I have known her throughout my long life, and while she was able to determine the grand sweeps of history, the movements of individuals always escaped her. Unlike her brother, Prometheus, or her husband, Mars Ultor, she never really understood the humani.”
“You could make another choice,” Perenelle said quietly. “You could choose to help us save the world. We need you,” she added urgently. “Right now, Machiavelli is on Alcatraz. We know he intends to release monstrous creatures into San Francisco. How do you think a modern city like this will react when the air fills with dragons and nightmares crawl up out of the sewers and down the streets?”
Sophie shook her head. The very idea was incomprehensible.
“How many will die?” Perenelle continued. “How many will be injured? How many more will be utterly traumatized by the experience?”
Numb with shock, Sophie shook her head again.
“And if you knew someone who could help—someone who had the power to fight these monsters—would you want them to stand and fight and protect tens of thousands, or would you want them to run away to help one person?”