had never asked to be Awakened; she hadn't wanted to know the Witch s magic
or Saint-Germain s, either. But it had happened and she was dealing with it,
and Josh would just have to get over it. Good night, she said. She closed
the door behind her, leaving Josh alone in the kitchen.
When he finished the last of the toast, he gathered up his plate and glass
and carried them both to the sink. He ran hot water over the plate, then set
it to drip dry in the wire dish rack beside the deep ceramic sink. Refilling
his glass from the jug of filtered water, he crossed to the kitchen door,
pulled it open and stepped out into the tiny garden. Although it was almost
dawn, he didn't feel the least bit tired, but then again, he reminded
himself, he had slept for most of the day. Over the high wall, he couldn't
see much of the Parisian skyline except for the warm orange glow from the
streetlights. He looked up, but there were no stars visible in the heavens.
Sitting on the step, he breathed deeply. The air was cool and damp, just like
San Francisco s, though it lacked the familiar salt tang that he loved; it
was tainted instead with unfamiliar smells, few of which were pleasant. He
felt a sneeze gathering at the back of his nose and sniffed hard, eyes
watering. There was the stench of overflowing trash cans and rotting fruit,
and he detected a nastier, fouler stink that was vaguely familiar. Closing
his mouth, he breathed deeply through his nose, trying to identify it: what
was it? It was something he d smelled very recently .
Snake.
Josh leapt to his feet. There weren t snakes in Paris, were there? Deep in
his chest, Josh felt his heart begin to beat faster. He was terrified of
snakes, a bone-chilling fear that he could trace back to when he d been about
ten. He d been camping with his father in Wupatki National Monument in
Arizona when he d slipped off a trail and slid down an incline, straight into
a rattlesnake nest. When the dust had cleared, he d realized he was lying
next to a six-foot-long snake. The creature had raised its wedge-shaped head
and stared at him with coal black eyes for what was probably no more than a
second though it felt like a lifetime before Josh had managed to scramble
out, too terrified and breathless even to scream. He d never been able to
work out why the snake hadn't attacked him, though his father told him that
rattlesnakes were actually shy and that it had probably just eaten. He d had
nightmares about the incident for weeks afterward, and after every one he
would wake up with that smell of serpent musk in his nostrils.
He was smelling it now.
And it was getting stronger.
Josh started backing up the steps. There was a sudden scrabbling sound, like
a squirrel running up the side of a tree. Then, directly in front of him, on
the other side of the small courtyard, claws, each one the length of his
hand, appeared over the top of the nine-foot-high wall. They moved around
slowly, almost delicately, questing for a hold, and then abruptly gripped
hard enough for the talons to bite deep into the old bricks. Josh froze, all
the breath leaving his body in one shocked exhalation.
The arms that followed were covered in thick knobbled hide and then the head
of a monster appeared over the wall. It was long and slablike, with two
rounded nostrils on the end of a blunt snout directly over its mouth and
solid black eyes sunk deep behind circular depressions on either side of its
skull. Unable to move, unable to breathe, his heart hammering so hard it was
physically shaking his body, Josh watched the huge head swivel lazily from
side to side, an immensely long, ghastly white forked tongue flickering in
the air. It froze, then slowly, very slowly, shifted its head and looked down
at Josh. The merest tip of its tongue tasted the air and then it opened its
mouth wide impossibly wide, enough to swallow him whole and the boy saw a
mouthful of teeth: sharp, ragged curved daggers.
Josh wanted to turn and run screaming, but he couldn't. There was something
mesmerizing about the appalling creature clambering over the wall. All his
life he d been fascinated by dinosaurs: he d collected fossils, eggs, bones
and teeth even dinosaur coprolites. And now he was looking at a living
dinosaur. There was even a part of his brain that identified the creature or
at least, what it resembled. It was a Komodo dragon. They didn't grow much
longer than ten feet in the wild, but he could already see that this creature
was at least three times that.
Stone cracked. An old brick exploded into dust, and then a second, a third.
Then there was a crunching, snapping, ripping sound, and almost in slow
motion Josh watched as the wall, with the creature draped over the top,
swayed, then crashed to the ground. The metal door buckled in two, popped off
its hinges and shattered against the water fountain, tearing a huge chunk out
of the basin. The monster smashed to the ground, unaffected by the stones
raining down around it. The noise jolted Josh free and he staggered back up
the steps just as the monster lumbered to its feet and shuffled forward,
heading straight for the house. The boy slammed the door closed and rammed
home the bolts. He was turning away when through the kitchen window he
spotted the figure in white, clutching what looked like a sword, step through
the gaping hole that had been the wall.
Josh grabbed the stone sword off the floor and dashed into the hall. Wake
up! he shouted, his voice so filled with terror even he didn't recognize it.
Sophie! Flamel! Anyone!
The door behind him shook in its frame. He snapped a quick glance over his
shoulder in time to see the monster s white tongue peel off the wood and
glass.
Help!
Glass shattered and the tongue shot into the kitchen, sweeping plates to the
floor, scattering pots and pans, knocking over a chair. Metal hissed where
the tongue brushed against it; wood turned black and burned; plastic melted.
A drop of the corrosive saliva dripped to the floor and bubbled on the tiles,
eating into the stone.
Instinctively, Josh lashed out at the tongue with Clarent. The sword barely
touched it, but it suddenly disappeared, darting back into the creature s
mouth. There was a single still moment, and then the monster rammed its
entire head at the door.
The door crumpled to matchwood; the supporting walls on either side cracked
as stones were knocked out. The creature drew its head back and slammed it
into the opening again, punching a large hole into the kitchen. The entire
house creaked ominously.
A hand fell on Josh s shoulder, almost stopping his heart. Now look what
you've done: you've just gone and made it mad.
Scathach strode into the wrecked kitchen and stood in the gaping hole created
by the creature s blows. Nidhogg, she said, and Josh was unsure whether she
was talking to him, which means the Disir are not far behind. She sounded
almost pleased with the news.
Scathach danced backward as Nidhogg s head slammed into the opening again.
Its huge nostrils opened wide and its
white tongue slapped against the spot
where, an instant before, the Shadow had been standing. A glob of spittle
burned on the tile, turning it to a liquid sludge. Scathach s twin swords
darted out, flickering gray and silver, and two long cuts appeared on the
white flesh of the creature s forked tongue.
Without taking her eyes off the creature, Scathach said to Josh, almost
calmly, Get the others out of the house, I ll take care of this .
And then an enormous claw-tipped arm smashed through the window, wrapped
around the Warrior s body in a viselike grip and slammed her back against the
wall with enough force to crack the plaster. The Warrior s arms were trapped
against her body, her swords useless. Nighogg s huge head appeared in the
ruined side of the house, and then its mouth opened wide and its tongue
darted out toward Scathach. Once its sticky acid-coated tongue wrapped around
the defenseless Warrior, it would drag her into its cavernous maw.
CHAPTER THIRTY
S ophie flew down the stairs, sparks and streamers of blue fire trailing from
her outstretched fingers.
She d been standing in the bathroom brushing her teeth when the entire house
had shaken. She d heard the rumbling crash of bricks, which had been followed
a heartbeat later by her brother s scream. It had ripped through the silent
house and was the most terrifying sound she had ever heard.
She was running down the corridor past Flamel s room when the door opened.
For a single instant she almost didn't recognize the confused-looking old man
standing in the doorway. The rings under his eyes were so dark they looked
like bruises, and his skin was an unhealthy yellowish hue. What s
happening? he mumbled, but Sophie hurried past: she had no answers for him.
All she knew was that her brother was downstairs.
And then the entire house shook again.
She felt the vibration through the floors and walls. All the pictures on the
wall to her left shifted and tilted off center.
Terrified, Sophie raced down the stairs to the first floor just as a bedroom
door opened and Joan appeared. One moment the small woman was wearing shiny
blue-green satin pajamas and the next she was clad in full metal armor, a
long broad-bladed sword in her gloved hands. Get back, Joan snapped, her
French accent pronounced.
No, Sophie shouted. It s Josh he s in trouble!
Joan fell into step beside her, armor clinking and rasping. OK then, but
stay behind me and to my right, so I always know where you are, Joan
commanded. Did you see Nicholas?
He s awake. But he looked sick.
Exhaustion. He daren t try any more magic in his condition. It could kill
him.
Where s Francis?
Probably in the attic. But the room is soundproofed and he ll have his
headphones on and the bass pumped up; I doubt he s heard anything.
I m sure he felt the house shake.
Probably thought it was a good bass line.
I don't know where Scatty is, Sophie said. She was fighting hard to keep
the bubbling panic inside from overwhelming her.
With any luck, she s downstairs in the kitchen with Josh. If she is, then
he s OK, Joan added. Now follow me. Holding the sword upright in both
hands, the woman moved cautiously down the last flight of stairs and stepped
into the broad marbled hallway at the front of the house. She stopped so
suddenly that Sophie almost walked into her. Joan pointed toward the front
door. Sophie spotted the ghostly white shape behind the stained-glass panels,
and then there was a crunching snap and the head of an axe appeared through
the door. Then, with a crack, the front door was smashed open in a shower of
wood and glass fragments.
Two figures stepped into the hallway.
In the light of the ornate crystal chandelier, Sophie saw that they were
young women in white chain-mail armor, their faces hidden behind helmets, one
wielding a sword and an axe, the other carrying a sword and a spear. She
reacted instinctively. Gripping her right wrist with her left hand, she
splayed open her fingers, palm outward. Crackling blue-green flames splashed
across the floor directly in front of the two girls, shooting upward in a
solid sheet of wavering emerald fire.
The women stepped through the flames without even pausing but stopped when
they spotted Joan in her armor. They looked at one another, obviously
confused. You re not the silver humani. Who are you? one demanded.
This is my house, and I think that s my question, Joan said grimly. She
turned sideways, left shoulder toward the women, holding her sword in both
hands, the point moving in a slow figure eight between the warriors.
Stand aside. We have no argument with you, one said.
Joan lifted the sword, bringing the hilt close to her face, the tip of the
longsword pointing straight up. You come into my home and tell me to stand
aside, she said incredulously. Who are you what are you? she demanded.
We are the Disir, the woman with the sword and spear said softly. We are
here for Scathach. Our argument is only with her. But do not stand in our way
or it will become your argument.
The Shadow is my friend, Joan said.
Then that makes you our enemy.
Without warning, the Valkyries attacked together, one lunging with sword and
spear, the other with sword and axe. Joan s heavy blade shifted, metal
clanging, the movement almost too fast to see as she blocked sword thrusts,
The Disir backed away and spread out until they were standing on either side
of Joan. She had to keep turning her head to be able to watch them both.
You fight well.
Joan s lips pulled away from her teeth in a savage smile. I was taught by
the best. Scathach herself trained me.
I thought I recognized the style, the second Disir said.
Only Joan s gray eyes moved as she tracked the two warriors. I didn't think
I had a style.
Neither has Scathach.
Who are you? the Disir on the right asked. In my lifetime I ve known only
a handful who could stand against us. And none of them were humani.
I am Joan of Arc, she replied simply.
Never heard of you, the Disir said, and while she was speaking, her sister,
standing to Joan s left, drew back her arm, poised to throw the spear
The weapon burst into white-hot flames.
With a savage howl, the Disir flung the spear to one side; by the time it hit
the ground, the wooden shaft was little more than ash and the wickedly
pointed metal head was melting into a bubbling puddle.
Standing on the bottom step, Sophie blinked in surprise. She hadn't known she
could do that.
The Disir to Joan s right darted forward, sword and axe weaving a deadly
humming pattern in the air before her, battering at Joan s sword, driving her
back under the vicious onslaught.
The second Disir rounded on Sophie.
Setting the spear shaft alight and melting the head had exhausted her, and
she slumped against the banister. But she needed to help Joan; she needed to
get to Josh. Pressing hard on the underside of her wrist, Sophi
e attempted to
call upon her Fire magic. Smoke curled from her hand, but there was no fire.
The Disir strode forward until she was standing directly in front of the
girl. Sophie was standing on a step, and the girls faces were almost level.
So, you are the silver humani the English Magician wants so desperately.
Behind her metal mask, the Valkyrie s violet eyes were contemptuous.
Drawing in a deep shuddering breath, Sophie straightened. She stretched out
both arms, fingers closed into tight fists. Closing her eyes, breathing
deeply, trying to calm her thundering heart, she visualized gloves of flame;
she saw herself bringing her hands together, shaping a ball of fire in her
fists like dough and then flinging it at the figure standing before her. But
when she opened her eyes, only the merest hints of gossamer blue flames
danced over her flesh. She clapped her hands together and sparks danced
harmlessly across the warrior s chain mail.
The Disir tapped her sword against her gloved hand. Your petty fire tricks
do not impress me.
A tremendous crash from the kitchen shook the house again. The ornate
chandelier over the center of the hallway started to sway to and fro,
tinkling musically as the shadows danced.
Josh, Sophie whispered. Her fear turned to anger: this creature was
preventing her from getting to her brother. And the anger gave her strength.
Remembering what Saint-Germain had done on the roof, the girl pointed her
index finger at the warrior and unleashed her rage in a single focused beam.
A dirty yellow-black spear of solid fire leapt from Sophie s finger and
exploded against the Disir s chain mail. Fire splashed all over the warrior,
and the force of the blow drove her to her knees. She shouted an
incomprehensible word that sounded like a wolf s howl.
Across the hall, Joan took advantage of the distraction and pressed her
attacker hard, pushing her back toward the gaping ruin of a door. The two
women were evenly matched, and while Joan s sword was longer and heavier than
her opponent s, the Disir had the advantage of wielding two weapons. In
addition, it had been a long time since Joan had worn armor and fought with a
sword. She could feel the burn in the muscles of her shoulders, and her hips
and knees were aching from the weight of the metal she was carrying. She had