Michael Scott - The Necromancer

Her twin brother: the same blond hair, the same blue eyes. Twenty-eight seconds her junior. Until they were three, no one had been able to tell them apart.

And suddenly the shifting colors floating above the skull whirled and settled, taking on shape and definition. They were looking at the image of a melting steering wheel. They were seeing through Josh’s eyes.

After a while, the dream became boring.

Josh wished he could wake himself up.

He drove for a long time on Sir Francis Drake Boulevard, then turned right onto Highway 1 and then Shoreline Highway. It was a narrow two-lane road, wreathed in early-morning mist that bounced off his headlights, but he wasn’t concerned. Nothing could happen to him in a dream. If he crashed, he’d wake up. Still, it was a shame it was a driving dream; it would have been much better if it had been a flying dream. He loved those.

“How is he doing this?” Sophie whispered. “Is he awake or asleep?”

Nicholas leaned forward, put his elbows on the table and rested his chin in his cupped hands. He stared hard at the images hovering in the air over the skull. “He is probably aware on some level, but something has taken control of him. I believe that something-someone-has called to him.”

Prometheus eyed the skull with an expression of profound disgust. “If I’d known you had that abominable thing, I would not have allowed you to bring it into this Shadowrealm. My sister spent most of her life and squandered the family fortune destroying these Archon toys.”

Nicholas glanced sidelong at Perenelle before looking up at Prometheus. “Archon? I thought these were Elder.”

Prometheus ignored the question, concentrating his attention on the perfect three-dimensional image floating above the skull. “We could possibly shock him awake.”

“No!” Sophie said immediately, instinct warning her that it would be the wrong thing to do.

“No,” Aoife agreed. “He could lose control of the car.”

“So we sit and wait for him to reach his destination?” Prometheus asked.

“Well.” Perenelle spoke without removing her gaze from the image above the skull. “I believe our first duty is to try to ensure that he reach his destination safely. If he crashes, he could be badly injured or killed. Sophie”-the tone of the Sorceress’s voice softened-“concentrate on your brother, make him focus on his driving.”

“How?” she asked desperately. She was having a hard time controlling the panic that threatened to overwhelm her. “How do I do that?”

Perenelle looked blank. She turned to Nicholas, but he shook his head. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Just don’t let him do anything stupid.”

“This is Josh we’re talking about,” Sophie muttered. “He does stupid things all the time.” And always when she wasn’t there.

He was thinking about driving really fast.

This section of Shoreline Highway was relatively straight, and the fog wasn’t too thick. He could put his foot to the floor and just roar down the road.

Sophie wouldn’t like that.

The thought popped into his head even as his foot was pressing on the accelerator.

This was a dream.

Sophie wouldn’t like that.

His foot eased off the accelerator. He shook his head. Even in his dreams, she still tried to be the boss.

The group had been sitting around the table for more than ninety minutes, and Sophie was shaking with fatigue.

Aoife stood over her, both hands on her shoulders, pouring strength into her, but Sophie’s silver aura was now almost entirely the same pewter gray as the warrior’s, and the images hovering over the skull had faded and become almost transparent. “I’m not sure… how much longer… I can keep this up,” Sophie whispered. Her head was thumping and there were solid bars of pain across her taut shoulders and down her spine.

“Where is he now?” Flamel rasped, trying to make sense of the images, the snatched glimpses of streets and landmarks.

Niten leaned over Aoife’s shoulder, squinting at the flickering color image. “Turning off Van Ness Avenue onto Bay Street.”

Perenelle looked up at Prometheus. “Who is he going to? There must be some Dark Elders in San Francisco.”

“Several,” he said matter-of-factly. “Quetzalcoatl, the Feathered Serpent, keeps a house here, but this is too subtle for him. Eris is here; she used to hang out in Haight-Ashbury and still keeps an apartment there, but her glory days are over. She hasn’t got this sort of power.” The Elder suddenly leaned forward. “Sophie, have you any control over your twin?”

She looked at him, her eyes dull with fatigue.

“Can you make him turn or look in a certain direction?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

“See if you can get him to adjust the mirror. I want to see his eyes.”

Josh fiddled with the heater.

He turned on the radio but there was only static, so he rooted through the collection of CDs, but they were all by people he’d never heard of: Isao Tomita, Kodo and Kitaro. He adjusted the seat back and forth, up and down, checked the glove compartment, found a tin of mints that were two years past the expiration but ate them anyway, fiddled with the air conditioner, adjusted the electric side mirrors and then, finally, reached for the rearview mirror…

His eyes were bloodred.

Reflected in the mirror, they hung in the air over the crystal skull, unblinking, unmoving, without a trace of pupil.

The wave of horror that struck Sophie was palpable. She was looking at her brother’s face, but these were the eyes of…

“Mars Ultor,” Prometheus said firmly. “The boy is in thrall to the Sleeping God.”

“Mars Awakened Josh,” Nicholas whispered, aghast.

“And so he controls him,” the Elder said.

“But where is he taking him?” the Alchemyst said.

“They’ve just turned onto Lombard Street,” Niten announced. “He’s going to Telegraph Hill.”

“Dee’s company, Enoch Enterprises has offices just below Coit Tower,” Perenelle said quickly, then added, as if she was thinking out loud, “but Dee is trapped in England. There is no way he could have gotten here…”

“Are you sure?” Prometheus asked. “This is Dee we’re talking about now.”

Nicholas nodded. “Even if he booked a flight this morning, he’d still be in the air. He’s not in the city.”

“What about a leygate?” Aoife asked.

“There are only a few that could bring him here. And he hasn’t got the power to charge up the Stonehenge gate. Also, using his power would betray his location to his Dark Elder masters. And I’m not sure he’d want to do that.”

“He’s turned up Telegraph Hill,” Niten said. “That’s a dead end.”

In his dream state, Josh really had no idea where he was.

He’d driven through San Francisco, turning left and right, only vaguely aware of the street names-Van Ness Avenue, Bay Street, Columbus and Lombard. Some were almost familiar, but when he finally turned the car onto Telegraph Hill, he suddenly realized where he was: close to Coit Tower. Although the tower was within walking distance of Aunt Agnes’s house, he and Sophie had never managed to find the time to visit it. To his left, he could see the Bay Bridge, while on his right he saw expensive-looking houses and apartments. He drove on, and as the road rose, he could see the city, which was beginning to appear out of the fog.

The view was stunning, but he was completely bored with this dream. He wanted it to end so he could wake up. He was half tempted to drive the car off the road just to see what would happen.

Sophie wouldn’t like that.

Josh shook the thought from his head. When he looked back to the road, however, a woman had appeared. The instant he saw her, Josh knew she was there to meet him, and he was already slowing and turning into the curb as she raised a hand and smiled. He stopped and hit the switch that rolled down the window. She was young and pretty and was dressed in jeans and a fringed black suede jacket. A thick mane of jet-black hair flowed to the small of her back. And when the woman leaned in the window and smiled at him, Josh noticed that her eyes were the same color as his aunt Agnes’s, the same color as Dr. John Dee’s. He took a deep breath and was overwhelmed by the distinctive odor of sage.