The Magician

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

M achiavelli slid the car to a stop, half on, half off the curb. He pulled up

the brake but left the car in gear, and it jerked forward and cut out. They

were in a parking lot on the banks of the river Seine, close to where he d

anticipated Nidhogg would appear. For a moment, the only sound was the engine

ticking softly, and then Dee let out his breath in a long sigh. You are the

worst driver I ve ever come across.

I got us here, didn't I? You do know that explaining all this is going to be

very difficult, Machiavelli added, moving off the subject of his terrible

driving. He had mastered the most arcane and difficult arts, had manipulated

society and politics for half a millennium, was fluent in a dozen languages,

could program in five different computer languages and was one of the world s

experts on quantum physics. And he still couldn't drive a car. It was

embarrassing. Rolling down the driver s window, he allowed cold air to wash

into the vehicle. I can impose a press blackout, of course, claiming it s a

national security issue, but this is getting too public and way too messy.

He sighed. Video of Nidhogg is probably on the Internet right now.

People will dismiss it as a prank, Dee said confidently. I thought we were

in trouble when Bigfoot was caught on camera. But that was quickly rejected

as a hoax. If I ve learned anything over the years, it is that the humani are

masters at ignoring what is right in front of their noses. They ve

disregarded our existence for centuries, dismissing the Elders and their

times as little more than myth and legend, despite all the evidence.

Besides, he added smugly, absently stroking his short beard, everything is

coming together. We have most of the book; once we get the two missing pages,

we will bring back the Dark Elders and return this world to its proper

state. He waved a hand airily. You ll not have to worry about minor issues

like the press.

You seem to be forgetting that we have some other problems, like the

Alchemyst and Perenelle. They are not so minor.

Dee pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and waved it in the air. Oh,

I ve taken care of that. I made a call.

Machiavelli glanced sidelong at the Magician but said nothing. In his

experience, people often spoke merely to fill a silence in a conversation,

and he knew that Dee was a man who liked to hear the sound of his own voice.

John Dee stared through the dirty windshield toward the Seine. A couple of

miles downriver, just around the bend, the huge Gothic cathedral of Notre

Dame de Paris would be slowly taking shape in the early dawn light. I first

met Nicholas and Perenelle in this city almost five hundred years ago. I was

their student you didn't know that, did you? That s not in your legendary

files. Oh, don't look so surprised, he said, laughing at Machiavelli s

stunned expression. I ve known about your files for decades. And my copies

are even more up-to-date, he added. But yes, I studied with the legendary

Alchemyst, here in this very city. I knew within a very short time that

Perenelle was more powerful more dangerous than her husband. Have you ever

met her? he asked suddenly.

Yes, Machiavelli said shakily. He was astounded that the Elders or was it

just Dee? knew about his secret files. Yes. I met her just the once. We

fought; she won, he said shortly. She made quite an impression.

She is an extraordinary woman; quite remarkable. Even in her own time, her

reputation was formidable. What she would have achieved if only she d chosen

to side with us. I don't know what she sees in the Alchemyst.

You never did understand the human capacity for love, did you? Machiavelli

asked softly.

I understand that Nicholas survives and thrives because of the Sorceress. To

destroy Nicholas, all we have to do is kill Perenelle. My master and I have

always known that, but we thought that if we could capture both of them,

their accumulated knowledge was worth the risk of leaving them alive.

And now?

It is no longer worth the risk. Tonight, he added, very softly, I finally

did something that I should have done a long time ago. He sounded almost

regretful.

John, Machiavelli barked urgently, swiveling in the seat to look at the

English Magician. What have you done?

I ve sent the Morrigan to Alcatraz. Perenelle will not see another dawn.