The Necromancer (33 page)

The column of filthy smoke almost reached the ceiling. It was the color of mud streaked with rusty red. A rancid smell seeped into the room: the distinctive stink of serpents.

“Coatlicue …”

Josh tried to concentrate, but the serpent odor sickened him and the images of the snake-headed creature had returned. He wasn’t sure where the images were coming from—from the Flamels, maybe? Were they trying to distract him? They knew he was terrified of snakes. Dee had told him that Nicholas and Perenelle had caused his migraine and had probably been trying to control his thoughts. The doctor had protected him with what he called a Warding spell, and the moment he’d activated it, all traces of the terrible headache and the stomach-churning nausea had vanished, so he’d obviously been right about the Flamels attacking Josh. But what Josh didn’t understand was why? The only reason he could come up with was that they didn’t want him to become a necromancer, and he was beginning to suspect that it was because they were afraid of what he might discover—about them, about the Elders.

Light.

And heat.

And flesh.

The mouthwatering scent of life.

The tingle of a powerful aura.

Calling to her. Calling, calling, calling.

Running and falling, crawling and walking, on limbs that had not been used in millennia, Coatlicue moved toward the light, toward freedom.

“Coatlicue …,” Josh rasped, his voice hoarse.

The smoke from the blades on the floor before him had solidified into a thick brown sheet. He thought he saw something move behind it.

He was still trying to work out what he’d do with the Magic of Necromancy … but wait, hadn’t Dee called it an art rather than a magic? What was the difference? And were there rules to necromancy? It had to be fueled by his aura, which meant that it probably followed some of the basic rules of the magics he’d already learned. So he’d have to choose very carefully before he decided to bring someone back from the dead. And how long could he keep them alive? Was there a time limit …?

“Coatlicue …”

Josh squinted. There was a definite shape moving behind the gauzy smoke.

He’d bring back Leonardo da Vinci, who was supposed to be buried in Amboise, France. And he’d love to talk to Mark Twain and Einstein and …

The brown smoke rippled; then two hands appeared and pulled it apart like a curtain.

Coatlicue emerged.

And she was beautiful.

“Where is he?” Sophie screamed, frustration and panic churning inside her.

They had fought their way up the stairs. There were no staff in the offices, only a scattering of uniformed guards, and they fell quickly to Aoife’s nunchaku and Niten’s lightning-fast fists and feet.

“We’re on the top floor,” Niten announced as he drove a foot through the plate-glass door. The lock snapped and he stepped into what was obviously Dee’s private office. He moved swiftly around the room, checking the small side corridors. “Nothing. A bathroom, a kitchen, a small private elevator. No sign that Josh has even been here.”

Aoife spun around to look at Sophie. “You said he was here. You felt him.”

The girl nodded. Her head was starting to thump with a sick headache.

“You said he was upstairs. Think. Where is he now?”

Sophie breathed deeply and concentrated on her brother. Then she frowned in confusion. “Downstairs.”

With Niten in the lead, they raced down the stairs, leaping over the bodies of the unconscious guards. “Twelfth floor,” the Japanese immortal called. Standing in the middle of the stairwell, Aoife turned to Sophie. “Where is he now?”

Sophie visualized her brother’s face … and then blinked. She raised a tentative finger and pointed to the ceiling. “But that can’t be right. It feels like he’s upstairs now.”

Niten grinned and looked at Aoife. “Secret floor,” they said in unison.

J
osh stared at Coatlicue. She was the most elegant and beautiful creature he had ever seen in his life. She was tall—seven, maybe eight feet—and looked like she’d stepped out of a painting on the wall of an Egyptian tomb. Jet-black hair cut in a straight line across her forehead hung in a silky curtain to her shoulders, and her eyes were outlined in kohl. Her skin was copper and her eyes were a deep lustrous brown. She was wearing a simple white robe and was barefoot. When she looked down at Josh, she smiled warmly, and although her lips did not move, Josh clearly heard her voice in his head. You called me and I came. I am Coatlicue.… When she stretched out her hand, he noticed that her fingernails had been painted in a snakeskin pattern.

Without even thinking, Josh took a step toward the creature and raised his right hand.

A solid sheet of flame blossomed in front of Josh, crisping his hair, searing his eyebrows and sending him staggering back. He shouted as he slipped and fell to the floor, voice high-pitched with terror, and he heard Dee roar and Virginia scream. He rolled over, and through the dancing flames he saw his sister standing at an open door on the opposite side of the room, fire still curling off her fingers.

“Sis?” Confused, disoriented, he climbed to his feet and then grunted as someone hit him from behind, sending him staggering forward, into the flame, toward Coatlicue. He threw up his hand to protect himself from the fire—and the flame instantly winked out, and he fell on his hands and knees at Coatlicue’s bare feet.

“Josh!” Sophie screamed.

Your name is Josh? Take my hand, Josh.

Immediately, Josh slipped his hand into Coatlicue’s.

Sophie watched in horror as Josh stepped toward the creature trapped within the square of swords. Coatlicue had a body that was vaguely female, but with the claws of a crocodile and two serpents’ heads coiling from a thick neck. A long robe composed entirely of writhing snakes covered her body. Dee’s companion, the woman who had to be Virginia Dare, stood behind Josh and shoved him forward—toward the fire and into the sword square on the floor.

Instinctively, Sophie uncurled Perenelle’s whip and lashed out with it. It keened through the air and laid open a long stripe across Coatlicue’s back. One hissing snake head darted toward Sophie and spat a shower of white liquid at her. It fell short, bubbling and burning into the floor, giving her an inkling of what it could do to her skin.

Niten drew both swords and leapt toward Dee. A blade of smoking sulfurous yellow appeared in the Magician’s hand and struck at the Japanese immortal. Niten easily countered the blows, sparks exploding where his metal swords clashed against Dee’s burning blade. The Japanese immortal closed in on Dee, swords whirling, while the Magician desperately backpedaled, flailing wildly with the blazing longsword.

Sophie’s silver armor bloomed around her body as she strode toward Coatlicue, whip cracking and whistling as she lashed the creature again and again. “Let my brother go!”

Aoife was darting toward Josh when Dare reared up in front of her, a wooden flute in one hand, a tomahawk in the other.

“You think that can hurt me?” The warrior sneered at the crude tomahawk.

“No, but this can,” Dare said, and brought the flute to her lips and blew a single note. The warrior instantly dropped to the ground, writhing in agony, hands pressed to her ears. Virginia stood over Aoife and twirled the tomahawk loosely above her. “I’ve never killed one of the Next Generation before,” she said lightly. “First time for everything, I suppose,” she added, then raised the axe.

Josh watched in horror as his sister lashed out at the beautiful young woman with a long screaming whip. Coatlicue opened her mouth and shrieked, and the sound was heartbreaking. She turned her huge eyes on Josh and her fingers tugged him forward, toward the swords, toward her. “Why?” she moaned in pain.

Josh didn’t know the answer. He shook his head. This was wrong, so, so wrong. Sophie shouldn’t be whipping Coatlicue. He turned and watched Niten savagely attack Dee, his swords blurs of light as he slashed and cut, driving the Magician back against the wall. Only Virginia seemed to be holding her own. The red-haired warrior was lying at her feet. He grinned: maybe the great Aoife was not so great after all.

Josh turned to look at his sister. Her armor had fully formed around her, giving her an almost alien appearance, and she was lashing out mercilessly at the defenseless Archon.

“No!” he whispered, then shouted, “No!” He tried to raise his own armor, but he was drained from calling Coatlicue. “Stop,” he croaked uselessly.

Sophie ignored him.

And then Josh’s toe touched the stone blade at his feet and Clarent pulsed, throbbed, called to him. Of course! It would renew his aura, give him the strength he needed to protect Coatlicue. Kneeling, Josh closed his hand around the hilt of the warm stone sword.

From the corner of his eye, Dee saw Josh stoop and reach for the sword and his heart stopped. If the square was broken, then Coatlicue would be free … and all would be lost.

Niten, realizing that Dee was distracted, attacked again. Both swords hammered into Dee’s chest. And shattered. Niten blinked in surprise. “You forget who I am,” the Magician snarled. He wrapped a burning fist in Niten’s shirt, lifted him high and flung him across the room. The immortal hit a leather sofa and bounced off.

Sophie saw Dare raise the tomahawk over the fallen Aoife and sent a curl of leather whip at Dee’s cohort. It seared Dare’s flesh as it wrapped around the weapon, jerking it out of her hand.

Virginia snarled in rage, a cry that was cut short as Aoife’s hand shot up and clutched her throat.

And Josh lifted Clarent off the floor and broke the square.

The wash of energy picked the boy up off the ground, jerked him free of Coatlicue’s grip and flung him back against Dee, slamming them both against the wall. It ripped Virginia from Aoife’s grasp, sending the immortal tumbling over and over across the floor. It buffeted Sophie to the ground, stripping away her armor, completely draining her aura in an instant.

With a hiss of triumph, Coatlicue stepped into the world.

“Oh, but I have waited a long time for this. A new world to conquer. Fresh meat. Fresh blood.” The twin snake heads turned, fixed on Sophie. “You first. Your little toy stung me.” All the snakes in her dress raised their tiny heads, and thousands of forked tongues flickered, tasting the air. “A silver aura. It will be an appetizer before I devour the gold.” Coatlicue took a step toward Sophie.

And staggered.

And stopped.

“I don’t think so,” Aoife said very quietly. She had leapt up onto the Archon’s back and wrapped her arms around the two snake heads. Coatlicue struggled, trying to pry Aoife’s fingers free, but the warrior’s grip tightened. All the snakes in the Archon’s dress struck out at Aoife, biting her again and again and the warrior grimaced in pain. “Let’s see who dies first,” she said, mouth opening to reveal her savage teeth. “You created my race. We are from your DNA. So you know how strong the Clan Vampire are.” She jerked the Archon back, away from Sophie, jerked her again, pulling her toward the three swords and the ragged smoking curtain. Then her bright green eyes locked on Sophie’s face. “You saved my life.”

Sophie staggered to her feet. “Aoife?”

“Aoife. One of the Next Generation. It seems I will devour you first. You are weakening.” Coatlicue’s voice was triumphant. More and more of the serpents bit into the warrior, and her skin was wet with their pale venom.

Sophie realized what was happening and lifted the whip, but she didn’t dare crack it toward Coatlicue in case she hit the warrior. “Aoife, let her go, step away from her.…”

The warrior jerked the Archon again, pulling her back, and the creature’s claws left deep scratches in the floor.

Sophie saw an opening and lashed out at Coatlicue, but her arms were leaden with exhaustion and the whip only scratched the Archon’s foot.

Coatlicue lifted her foot and Aoife took the opportunity to pull her back once more. Off balance, Coatlicue staggered and fell, but the warrior never released her hold on the two snapping snake heads. The snakes went into a frenzy of biting and spitting. Aoife’s eyes locked on Sophie’s. “When you find my twin,” she whispered, “tell her … tell Scathach that I did this … for her.” And then, with a final massive effort, Aoife hauled Coatlicue back into the broken square of swords and through the torn curtain of dirty smoke.

The curtain winked out of existence in a detonation that shattered every piece of glass in the building. The hanging television sets crashed to the floor; pipes burst, spraying water into the room; and a huge crack ran up one wall, raced across the ceiling and brought part of the floor above thundering down into the room. A dozen fires started as broken wires rained sparks everywhere.

Shocked and numb, deaf and unable to move, Sophie Newman watched as Dee clambered to his feet. She saw him haul Virginia Dare from the floor, then pick up Josh.

Josh stood and stared at her … but all she could see were his bloodred eyes … and the look of absolute loathing on his pale face.

Dee darted forward to gather the three swords. He tossed Josh a second sword and picked his way across the devastated floor to lift the Codex off the table.

Sophie tried to say her brother’s name, but her mouth was full of grit and she couldn’t shape the word. And when she stretched out her hand to him, he slowly and deliberately turned his back on her and followed John Dee and Virginia Dare out of the burning building.

He did not look back.

“I
t’s a henge,” William Shakespeare said, looking at two tall standing stones topped with a massive slab. “Just like Stonehenge.”

“I modeled it on Stonehenge,” Marethyu agreed. “Every Shadowrealm is connected to another by at least one gate. Some have two, and the bigger realms, the huge planet-sized worlds, have multiple gates. When I created this world, I needed just two gates. One to connect to the leygate in Paris—”

“So you knew we were going to use that gate?” Scathach interrupted.