Michael Scott - The Necromancer

Josh turned to look at his twin before she could finish explaining. “That’s interesting.”

Sophie jumped, surprised by the anger in her brother’s voice. “What is?”

“You called the human race humani,” he said quietly. “I’ve never heard you call them- us -that before.”

“That’s what the Witch called them,” she said.

“Exactly. Maybe it’s not Nicholas who’s wrong-maybe it’s Perenelle.”

Sophie shook her head. “I believe the Sorceress,” she said firmly, and before her brother could respond, she folded her arms and turned away, looking around the room. “Where are we, anyway?” she asked, deliberately changing the subject.

Josh took a deep breath and thought about trying to continue the conversation, but he knew from experience that once Sophie folded her arms and turned her back on him, she’d made a decision. If he pushed, they’d fight, and that was the last thing he wanted right now. All he could hope was that she’d think a little more carefully about everything the Sorceress told her.

“Prometheus’s house in Point Reyes. I caught a glimpse of it earlier. We’re really isolated. There’s a main house and about a dozen small cabins scattered around it. We’re in one of the cabins, and I have to tell you-it’s a dump.” He started looking through drawers. One held a mismatched assortment of knives, forks and spoons, but they were all dull and tarnished, as if they hadn’t been touched in years. Another drawer was stuffed with linen tea towels. Josh pulled out a handful: they were all gray and stiff with age, and showed tourist scenes from cities across Europe: Buckingham Palace in London, the Eiffel Tower in Paris, the Brandenburg Gate in Berlin, the Royal Palace in Madrid, the Acropolis in Greece and finally, at the bottom of the pile, the pyramids in Egypt. Josh opened one and a fine cloud of dust filled the air. “I wonder when the last time anyone actually stayed here was,” he said. A blast of chill air made him turn. Sophie had pushed open the kitchen door and stepped out into the damp night. The lights of San Francisco filled the sky to the south with an orange glow.

“Where is the Elder?” she asked quietly, without looking around.

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him-I haven’t seen anyone-since you fainted or collapsed, or whatever you did earlier. The car was dead, so Prometheus carried you up here. Then, when we got here, all he said was ‘Let her sleep. She’ll be fine when she wakes,’ and he left.” Josh shrugged. “I’ve been sitting here for the past four hours waiting for you to wake up.” He paused and added, “I’m starving.”

“You’re always hungry.”

“Well, aren’t you?”

Sophie took a moment to consider. “No,” she said, “not really.” She knew she should be hungrier-the only food she’d had all day was the fruit she’d eaten with Aoife on the houseboat-but for some reason she felt fine. “We don’t have to stay here,” she said. “We could go looking for them.”

“This is a Shadowrealm,” Josh reminded her. “And the mud people are out there. I’ll bet there are other guardians too.”

“So where is everyone?” she asked, but even as she was speaking, two figures materialized out of the night. As they approached, Sophie could see it was Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel, arm in arm, walking slowly toward the house. “We’ve got company,” she said softly.

Josh stepped outside and stood beside his sister on the wooden deck. “He looks older,” he said quietly. “Older than Perenelle for sure.”

“And she’s ten years older than him,” Sophie reminded her brother.

“So why isn’t she aging as fast?”

“Maybe she hasn’t used her aura as much as he has,” Sophie suggested.

Josh shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense-she must have used her powers on Alcatraz.”

Almost as if she felt his gaze, Perenelle raised her head to look at Josh, her eyes dark smudges against the pale oval of her face. She smiled, but it looked forced, artificial. “You’re awake,” she called to Sophie, and then turned to Josh. “And you must be hungry.”

“Famished,” he said lightly. “I don’t suppose you brought any food?”

“There’s food aplenty, but you cannot eat just yet,” Perenelle answered. She was close enough now that the wan light from the table lamp in the room behind the twins washed her face in a yellow glow, turning the whites of her eyes the color of lemons.

“Prometheus has agreed to train you in the Magic of Fire.”

Josh blinked in surprise. “I’m going to learn Fire magic now?”

“Right now.” Nicholas nodded. “It will nicely complement your Water magic.”

“Could we do it after dinner?” he asked, feeling his stomach grumble.

Nicholas looked at Josh closely. “It’s never a good idea to learn an Elemental Magic on a full stomach.”

“But Saint-Germain taught Sophie Fire magic after dinner,” Josh pointed out, almost petulantly. His sister might not need food, but he hadn’t eaten all day.

Perenelle’s smile vanished from her face, turning it hard. “You are not your sister; she is infinitely more powerful than you will ever be, Josh. She can do things that would be impossible for you.”

“And of course, you have your own skills,” Nicholas said to Josh hastily, glaring at his wife.

Josh looked at the couple, confused and surprised about what they’d just said. “I thought we were equal,” he said eventually.

Perenelle looked as if she was about to reply, but Josh saw Nicholas catch her hand, squeezing it and silencing her. “You are twins,” he said, “but you have never been equals-you each have your strengths and weaknesses. It is the combination of your strengths, one canceling out the other’s weakness, which makes you special.”

“The two that are one, the one that is all,” Perenelle finished.

Nicholas squinted at Josh, his pale eyes looking somewhat unfocused. “You could eat now if you wish, but by the time you’ve finished, Prometheus might have changed his mind.” He smiled and asked lightly. “So, Josh, Fire magic or food?”

“What’s it to be?” Perenelle demanded, but there was no humor in her voice.

Josh looked from the Sorceress to the Alchemyst. Something had happened between them. He’d seen his parents like this on occasion when they were arguing. They would be polite but brittle with one another and would lash out at anyone who irritated them. He wondered what the immortals had been arguing about. And at the back of his mind, he kept remembering that when Perenelle had trained with the Witch of Endor, she’d used her maiden name. She hadn’t admitted she was the Alchemyst’s wife. “Fire magic,” he said quietly.

The Alchemyst nodded in agreement. “Fire magic it is.”

“I thought Prometheus said he would never train anyone again,” Sophie said.

“The Elder had a change of heart,” Perenelle answered, looking at the girl as she spoke.

“Prometheus will always do the right thing,” Sophie said quietly, and Josh was startled to hear just a hint of the Witch’s accent in her voice. Then she turned to look at Josh. “Are you ready?”

He nodded. “I think so…”

“Come on, then, let’s go.”

The Alchemyst shook his head. “The Elder just wants Josh,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “He said that he doesn’t want to see you again.”

Sophie looked surprised. A feeling of extraordinary sadness washed over her.

“I think you frighten him,” Perenelle added.

Nicholas looked at Josh. “The Elder has agreed to train you. This is quite an honor; it’s been a long time since Prometheus had a student.”

“I thought Saint-Germain learned Fire magic from him,” Josh said.