Michael Scott - The Necromancer

I am frightened.

Not for myself, but for those I will leave behind: Perenelle and the twins.

I am resigned that we will not recover the Codex in time to save my wife and me. I have perhaps a week, certainly no more than two, left before old age claims me; Perenelle will have a few days more. And now that death is almost upon me, I have discovered that I do not want to die.

I have lived upon this earth for six hundred and seventy-six years and there is still so much that I have not seen, so much that I wish I still had time to do.

I am grateful, though, that I have lived long enough to discover the twins of legend, and proud that I began their training in the Elemental Magics. Sophie has mastered three, Josh just the one, but he has demonstrated other skills and his courage is extraordinary.

We have returned to San Francisco, having left Dee for dead in England. I am hoping we have seen the last of him, and even if his encounter with the Archon did not destroy him, I know that his masters will not tolerate failure on this scale. I am disturbed, however, to learn that Machiavelli is here in this city. Perenelle trapped him and his companion on Alcatraz along with the other monsters, but I am not sure how long the Rock can hold someone like the Italian immortal.

Both Perenelle and I are in agreement that Alcatraz is a threat we must try to deal with while we still can. It chills me to know what the prison’s cells hold. Legends tell of times in the past when the Dark Elders unleashed monsters into human cities-and I believe that Dee is insane, and desperate enough to do just that.

Even more disturbing is the news that Scathach and Joan of Arc are missing. The Notre Dame leygate should have brought them to Mount Tamalpais, but they never arrived. When I spoke with Saint-Germain earlier, he was frantic with worry, but I reminded him that Scathach is over two and a half thousand years old, and she is the ultimate warrior. Joan, too, is one of the greatest soldiers ever to walk this earth. Francis has examined Point Zero and found what he believes to be the remnants of the crushed bones of prehistoric animals. I suspect Machiavelli sabotaged the gate using the ancient alchemical spell of Attraction. Saint-Germain believes, and I agree with him, that Scathach and Joan have been pulled back in time… but to when?

My most pressing concern still lies with the twins. I am no longer sure how they view me. It was always clear that Josh harbored reservations about me, but now I am sensing that they are both fearful and mistrustful. It is true that they discovered portions of my history that I would have preferred be left uncovered. Perhaps I should have been more honest with them. I am not proud of some of the things I have done, but I regret nothing. I did what I had to do to ensure the survival of the human race. I would do it again.

The twins have returned to their aunt’s house in Pacific Heights. I will give them a day or two to rest and recuperate-but no more, for Perenelle and I do not have the luxury of time. Then we will begin again. Their training must be completed; they must be prepared for the day the Dark Elders return.

Because that day is almost upon us.

The time of Litha approaches.

From the Day Booke of Nicholas Flamel, AlchemystWrit this day, Tuesday, 5th June, inSan Francisco, my adopted city

TUESDAY, 5th June

“N ever thought we’d ever see this place again.” Sophie Newman grinned and looked at her brother.

“Never thought I’d be so happy to see it,” Josh said. “It looks… I don’t know. Different.”

“It looks the same,” his twin answered. “We’re the ones who’ve changed.”

Sophie and Josh were walking down Scott Street in Pacific Heights, heading for their aunt Agnes’s house on the corner of Sacramento Street. They had last seen the house six days earlier-Thursday, May 31-when they had left for work, Sophie at the coffee shop, Josh in the bookstore. It had started as just another ordinary day, but it had turned out to be the last ordinary day they would ever experience.

That day their world had changed forever; they too had changed, both physically and mentally.

“What do we tell her?” Josh asked nervously. Aunt Agnes was eighty-four, and although they called her aunt, she was not actually related to them by blood. Sophie thought she might have been their grandmother’s sister… or cousin, or maybe just a friend, but she had never been quite sure. Aunt Agnes was a sweet but grumpy old lady who fussed and worried if they were even five minutes late. She drove both Sophie and Josh crazy and reported back to their parents about every single thing they did.

“We keep it simple,” Sophie said. “We stick to the story we told Mom and Dad-first the bookshop closed because Perenelle wasn’t feeling well, and then the Flamels…”

“The Flemings,” Josh corrected her.

“The Flemings invited us to stay with them in their house in the desert.”

“And why did the bookshop close?”

“Gas leak.”

Josh nodded. “Gas leak. And where’s the house in the desert?”

“Joshua Tree.”

“OK, I got it.”

“Are you sure? You’re a terrible liar.”

Josh shrugged. “I’ll try. You know we’re going to get grilled.”

“I know. And that’s even before we have to talk to Mom and Dad.”

Josh nodded. He glanced over at Sophie. He’d been mulling something over for the past few days, and figured this would be the perfect time to bring it up. “I’ve been thinking,” he said slowly. “Maybe we should just tell them the truth.”

“The truth?” Sophie’s expression remained unchanged and the twins continued walking, crossing Jackson Street. They could see their aunt’s white wooden Victorian house three blocks away.

“What do you think?” Josh asked, when his sister said nothing more.

Finally Sophie nodded. “Sure, we could.” She brushed a few strands of blond hair out of her eyes and looked at her brother. “But just let me get this straight first. We’re going to tell Mom and Dad that their entire life’s work has been for nothing. That everything they have ever studied-history, archaeology and paleontology-is wrong.” Her eyes sparkled. “I think it’s a great idea. But I’ll let you go ahead and do it, and I’ll watch.”

Josh shrugged uncomfortably. “OK, OK, so we don’t tell them.”

“Not yet, in any case.”

“Agreed, but it’ll come out sooner or later. You know how impossible it is to keep secrets from them. They always know everything.”

“That’s because Aunt Agnes tells them,” Sophie muttered.

A sleek black stretch limousine with tinted windows drove slowly past them, the driver leaning forward, checking addresses on the tree-lined street. The car signaled and pulled in farther down the block.

Josh indicated the limo with a jerk of his chin. “That’s weird. It looks like it’s stopping outside Aunt Agnes’s.”

Sophie looked up disinterestedly. “I just wish there was someone we could talk to,” she murmured. “Someone like Gilgamesh.” Her blue eyes magnified with sudden tears. “I hope he’s OK.” The last time she had seen the immortal, he’d just been wounded by an arrow fired by the Horned God. She looked at her brother, irritated. “You’re not even listening to me.”

“That car is stopping outside Agnes’s house,” Josh said slowly. A vague warning tingled at the back of his skull. “Soph?”

“What is it?”

“When was the last time Aunt Agnes had a visitor?”

“She never has visitors.”

The twins watched a slender black-suited driver get out of the car and climb the steps, his black-gloved hand trailing lightly on the metal rail. Their Awakened hearing clearly heard the knock on the door, and unconsciously they increased their pace. They saw their aunt Agnes open the door. She was a slight, bony woman, all angles and planes, with knobby knees and swollen arthritic fingers. Josh knew that in her youth she had been considered a great beauty-but her youth had been a long time ago. She had never married, and there was a family story that the love of her life had been killed in the war. Josh wasn’t sure which one.