The Magician

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

T he beautifully intricate Eiffel Tower loomed more than nine hundred feet

over Josh s head. There was a time when he d compiled a list for a school

project of the Ten Wonders of the Modern World. The metal tower had been

number two on that list, and he d always promised himself that someday he d

get to see it.

And now that he was finally in Paris, he didn't even look up.

Standing almost directly beneath the center of the tower, he rose on his

toes, turning his head left and right, searching for his twin among the

surprisingly large number of early-morning tourists. Where was she?

Josh was scared.

No, more than scared he was terrified.

The last couple of days had taught him the true meaning of fear. Prior to the

events of Thursday, Josh had only ever really been afraid of failing a test

or being publicly humiliated in class. He had other fears too, those vague,

shivery thoughts that came in the dead of night, when he found himself lying

awake wondering what would happen if his parents had an accident. Sara and

Richard Newman both held PhD s in archaeology and paleontology, and while

that wasn't the most dangerous line of work, their research sometimes took

them into countries in the midst of religious or political turmoil, or they

conducted their digs in areas of the world ravaged by hurricanes or in

earthquake zones or close to active volcanoes. The sudden movements of the

earth s crust often threw up extraordinary archaeological finds.

But his deepest, darkest fear was that something would happen to his sister.

Although Sophie was twenty-eight seconds older, he always thought of her as

his baby sister. He was bigger and stronger, and it was his job to protect

her.

And now, in a way, something terrible had happened to his twin.

She had changed in ways he could not even begin to comprehend. She had become

more like Flamel and Scathach and their kind than like him: she had become

more than human.

For the first time in his life, he felt alone. He was losing his sister. But

there was one way to be her equal again: he had to have his own powers

Awakened.

Josh turned just as Sophie and Scathach appeared, hurrying across a broad

bridge that led directly to the tower. Relief washed over him. They re

here, he said to Flamel, who was facing the opposite direction.

I know, Nicholas said, his French accent sounding stronger than usual. And

they re not alone.

Josh tore his gaze away from his approaching sister and Scathach. What do

you mean?

Nicholas inclined his head slightly and Josh turned. Two tourist buses had

just arrived at the Place Joffre and were disgorging their passengers. The

tourists Americans, Josh guessed by their clothing milled around, chatting

and laughing, cameras and videos already whirring while their guides tried to

gather them together. A third bus, bright yellow, pulled up, spilling dozens

of excited Japanese tourists out on the pavement. Confused, Josh looked at

Nicholas: did he mean the buses?

In black, Flamel said enigmatically, pointing by lifting his chin.

Josh turned and spotted the man in black striding toward them, moving swiftly

through the holiday crowd. None of the tourists even glanced at the stranger

weaving his way among them, twisting and turning like a dancer, taking care

to not so much as brush against them. Josh guessed the man was probably about

his own height, but it was impossible to make out his body shape because he

was wearing a three-quarter-length black leather coat that flapped about him

as he walked. The collar was turned up, and his hands were pushed deep into

the pockets. Josh felt his heart sink: now what?

Sophie raced up and punched her brother in the arm. You got here, she said

breathlessly. Any trouble?

Josh tilted his head toward the approaching man in the leather coat. I m not

sure.

Scathach appeared beside the twins. She wasn't even breathing hard, Josh

noted. In fact, she wasn't breathing at all.

Trouble? Sophie asked, looking at Scathach.

The Warrior smiled, tight-lipped. Depends how you define trouble, she

murmured.

On the contrary, Nicholas said, smiling broadly. He heaved a sigh of

relief. It s a friend. An old friend. A good friend.

The man in the black coat was closer now, and the twins could see that he had

a small, almost round face, deeply tanned skin and piercing blue eyes. Thick

shoulder-length black hair was swept back off his high forehead. Mounting the

steps, he pulled both hands out of his pockets and spread his arms wide,

silver rings winking on every finger and on his thumbs, matching the silver

studs in both ears. A broad smile revealed misshapen, slightly yellowed

teeth.

Master, he said, wrapping both arms around Nicholas and kissing him quickly

on both cheeks. You have returned. The man blinked, eyes moist, and for an

instant the pupils winked red. There was a sudden hint of burnt leaves in the

air.

And you never left, Nicholas said warmly, holding the man at arm s length

and examining him critically. You look well, Francis. Better than the last

time I saw you. He turned, putting his arm around the man s shoulder.

Scathach you know, of course.

Who could forget the Shadow? The blue-eyed man stepped forward, caught the

Warrior s pale hand in his and brought it to his lips in an old-fashioned

courtly gesture.

Scathach leaned forward and pinched the man s cheek hard enough to leave a

red mark. I told you last time; don't do that to me.

Admit it you love it. He grinned. And this must be Sophie and Josh. The

Witch told me about them, he added. The man s bright blue eyes remained wide

and unblinking as he regarded the two in turn. The twins of legend, he

murmured, frowning a bit as he stared hard at them. You re sure?

I m sure, Nicholas said firmly.

The stranger nodded and bowed slightly. The twins of legend, he repeated.

I am honored to make your acquaintance. Allow me to introduce myself. I am

le Comte de Saint-Germain, he announced dramatically, and then paused,

almost as if he expected them to know the name.

The twins looked at him blankly, identical expressions on their faces.

But you must call me Francis; all my friends do.

My favorite student, Nicholas added fondly. Certainly my best student.

We ve known one another a long time.

How long? Sophie asked automatically, although even as she was asking the

question, the answer popped into her head.

For about three hundred years or so, Nicholas said. Francis trained to be

an alchemist with me. He quickly surpassed me, he added. He specialized in

creating jewels.

I learned everything I know about alchemy from the master: Nicholas Flamel,

Saint-Germain said quickly.

In the eighteenth century, Francis was also an accomplished singer and

musician. And what are you this century? Nicholas asked.

Well, I have to say I am disappointed you've not heard of me, the man said

in accentless English. you've obviously not been keeping up with the charts.

I ve had five number-one hits in the States and three in Germany, and I won

an MTV Europe Best Newcomer award.

Best New comer? Nicholas grinned, emphasizing the word new. You!

You know that I have always been a musician, but in this century, Nicholas,

I m a rock star! he said proudly. I am Germain! He looked at the twins as

he spoke, eyebrows raised, nodding, waiting for them to react to the

announcement.

They shook their heads simultaneously. Never heard of you, Josh said

bluntly.

Saint-Germain shrugged and looked disappointed. He brought the collar of his

coat up around his ears. Five number-one hits, he muttered.

What type of music? Sophie asked, biting the inside of her cheek to keep

herself from smiling at the crestfallen expression on the man s face.

Dance electro techno that sort of thing.

Sophie and Josh shook their heads again. don't listen to it, Josh answered,

but Saint-Germain was no longer looking at the twins. His head had swiveled

toward the Avenue Gustave Eiffel, to where a long sleek black Mercedes had

pulled up to the curb. Three plain black vans drew up behind it.

Machiavelli! Flamel snapped angrily. Francis, you were followed.

But how , the count began.

Remember, it s Niccol we re dealing with. Flamel looked around quickly,

assessing the situation. Scathach, take the twins, go with Saint-Germain.

Protect them with your lives.

We can stay, I can fight, Scathach said.

Nicholas shook his head. He waved at the gathered tourists. Too many people.

Someone would be killed. But Machiavelli is not Dee; he s subtle. He ll not

use magic not if he can help it. We can use that to our advantage. If we

split up, he will follow me; I m the one he wants. And not just me. Reaching

under his shirt, he pulled out a small square cloth bag.

What s that? Saint-Germain asked.

Nicholas answered Saint-Germain but looked at the twins as he spoke. Once it

held the entire Codex, but now Dee has that. Josh managed to tear two pages

from the back of the book. They re in here. The pages contain the Final

Summoning, he added significantly. Dee and his Elders need these pages. He

smoothed the cloth and then suddenly handed the bag over to Josh. Keep these

safe, he said.

Me? Josh looked from the bag to Flamel s face but made no move to take it

from the man s hand.

Yes, you. Take it, Flamel commanded.

Reluctantly, the boy reached for the bag, the cloth crackling and sparking as

he shoved it under his T-shirt. Why me? he asked. He looked quickly at his

sister. I mean, Scathach or Saint-Germain would be better .

You rescued the pages, Josh. It s only right that you should guard them.

Flamel gripped Josh s shoulders and looked into the boy s eyes. I know I can

trust you to take care of them.

Josh pressed his hand against his stomach, feeling the cloth against his

skin. When Josh and Sophie had started working in the bookshop and the coffee

shop respectively, their father had used an almost identical phrase when

talking about Sophie. I know I can trust you to take care of her. In that

moment, he d felt both proud and a little bit frightened. Right now, he just

felt frightened.

The Mercedes driver s door opened and a man in a black suit climbed out,

mirrored shades reflecting the early-morning sky, making it look as if he had

two holes in his face.

Dagon, Scathach snarled, sharp teeth suddenly visible, and reached for a

weapon in her bag, but Nicholas caught her arm and squeezed it.

This is not the time.

Dagon opened the rear door and Niccol Machiavelli emerged. Although he was

at least a hundred yards away, they could clearly see the look of triumph on

his face.

Behind the Mercedes, the vans doors slid open simultaneously and heavily

armed and armored police jumped out and started jogging toward the tower. A

tourist screamed, and the dozens of people standing around the base of the

Eiffel Tower immediately swiveled their cameras in that direction.

Time to go, Flamel said quickly. You head across the river, I ll lead them

in the other direction. Saint-Germain, my friend, Nicholas whispered softly,

we re going to need a distraction to help us escape. Something spectacular.

Where will you go? Saint-Germain demanded.

Flamel smiled. This was my city long before Machiavelli came here. Perhaps

some of my old haunts still remain.

It has changed a lot since you were last here, Saint-Germain warned. As he

was speaking, he took Flamel s left hand in both of his, turned it over and

pressed the ball of his right thumb into the center of the Alchemyst s palm.

Sophie and Josh were close enough to see that when he took his hand away,

there was the impression of a tiny black-winged butterfly on Flamel s skin.

It will lead you back to me, Saint-Germain said mysteriously. Now, you

wanted something spectacular. He grinned and pushed back the sleeves of his

leather coat to reveal bare arms. His skin was covered in dozens of tiny

tattooed butterflies that wrapped around his wrists like bracelets, then

coiled up around his arm to the crook of his elbow. Lacing the fingers of his

hands together, he twisted his wrists and bent them outward with an audible

crack, like a pianist preparing to play. Did you ever see what Paris did to

celebrate the millennium?

The millennium? The twins looked at him blankly.

The millennium. The year 2000. Although the millennium should have been

celebrated in 2001, he added.

Oh, that millennium, Sophie said. She looked at her brother, confused. What

did the millennium have to do with anything?

Our parents took us to Times Square, Josh said. Why?

Then you missed something truly spectacular here in Paris. Next time you re

online, check out the pictures. Saint-Germain rubbed his arms briskly and

then, standing below the huge metal tower, he raised his hands high and

suddenly the scent of burnt leaves filled the air.

Both Sophie and Josh watched the butterfly tattoos spasm, then shiver and

pulse on Saint-Germain s arms. Gossamer wings trembled and vibrated, antennas

twitched and then the tattoos lifted away from the man s flesh.

An endless stream of tiny red and white butterflies peeled off

Saint-Germain s pale skin and curled into the cool Parisian air. They circled

upward, spinning away from the small man, a seemingly never-ending spiral of

crimson and ashen dots. The butterflies curled around the struts and spars,

the rivets and bolts of the metal tower, covering it in an iridescent,

shimmering skin.

Ignis, Saint-Germain whispered, throwing back his head and clapping his

hands together.

And the Tower exploded into a cracking, sparking fountain of light.

He laughed delightedly at the twins expressions and said, Know me: I am le

Comte de Saint-Germain. I am the Master of Fire!