Michael Scott - The Sorceress

Machiavelli looked at Dee. The English Magician's head had titled slightly to one side, eyes half closed as he listened to the Elders. Almost as if he felt Machiavelli's gaze on him, Dee opened his eyes and raised his brows in a silent question. The Italian shook his head slightly; he had no idea what was happening.

"This is the time foreseen by Abraham when he first created the Codex," Machiavelli's master continued. "He had the Sight, he could see the curling strands of time. He foretold that this age would come-he called it the Time of the Turning, when order would be returned to the world. We have discovered the twins, we know the whereabouts of Flamel and the last two pages from the Codex. Once we have the pages we can use the twins' powers to fuel the Final Summoning."

The line crackled with static, and in the background Machiavelli clearly heard a murmur of assent. He realized that there were others listening in on the line, and he wondered how many of the Dark Elders had gathered. He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from smiling at the image of the Elders, in their assorted guises and aspects-human and inhuman, beast and monster-listening intently on cell phones. Machiavelli chose his moment when there was a break in the murmuring voices and spoke carefully, stripping all emotion from his voice, keeping it neutral and professional.

"Then can I suggest that you allow us to complete our tasks. Let us find Flamel and the twins." He knew he was playing a dangerous game now, but it was clear that there was dissension in the ranks of the Elders, and Machiavelli had always been expert at manipulating such situations. He had clearly heard the need in his master's voice. The Elders desperately wanted the twins and the Codex: without them, the rest of the Dark Elders would not be able to return to the earth. And at that instant he recognized that both he and Dee were still valuable assets. "The doctor and I have formulated a plan," he said, and then fell silent, waiting to see if they would take the bait.

"Speak, humani," the male-female voice rumbled.

Machiavelli folded his hands and said nothing. Dee's eyebrows shot up and he pointed at the phone. Speak, he mouthed.

"Speak!" the voice snarled, static howling and popping.

"You are not my master," Machiavelli said very quietly. "You cannot command me."

There was a long hissing sound, like steam escaping. Machiavelli turned his head slightly, trying to identify the noise. Then he nodded: it was laughter. The other Elders were amused by his response. He had been correct; there was dissension in the ranks of the Elders, and though Dee's master might be all-powerful, that did not mean he was liked. Here was a weakness Machiavelli could exploit to his advantage.

Dee was staring at him, gray eyes wide with horror and maybe even admiration.

The line clicked, the ambient background noise changed and then Machiavelli's master spoke, amusement clearly audible in his gravelly voice. "What do you propose? And be careful, humani," he added. "You too have failed us. We were assured that Flamel and the twins would not leave Paris."

The Italian leaned toward the phone, his smile triumphant. "Master. I was instructed to do nothing until the English Magician arrived. Valuable time was lost. Flamel was able to contact allies, find shelter and rest." Machiavelli was watching Dee carefully as he spoke. He knew the Englishman had contacted his Elder master, and that master in turn had ordered Machiavelli's master to tell the Italian to do nothing until Dee arrived. "However," he pressed, having made his point, "this delay worked to our advantage. The boy was Awakened by an Elder loyal to us. We have some idea of the twins' powers and we know where they've gone." He could barely keep the smugness out of his voice. He looked at Dee sitting across the table and nodded quickly. The English Magician took the hint.

"They are in London," John Dee continued. "And Britain, more than any other land on this earth, is our country," he stressed. "Unlike in Paris, we have allies there: Elders, Next Generation, immortals and humani servants who will aid us. And in England there are others, loyal to none but themselves, whose services can be bought. All of these resources can be directed to finding Flamel and the twins." He finished and leaned forward, staring intently at the phone, waiting for an answer.

The line clicked and went dead. Then an irritating busy signal filled the room.

Dee stared at the phone with a mixture of shock and anger. "Have we lost the connection or have they just hung up on us?"

Machiavelli hit the Speaker button, silencing the noise. "Now you know how I feel when you hang up on me," he said quietly.

"What do we do now?" Dee demanded.

"We wait. I would imagine they are discussing our futures."

Dee folded his arms over his narrow chest. "They need us," he said, trying-and failing-to sound confident.

Machiavelli's smile was bitter. "They use us. But they do not need us. I know of at least a dozen immortals in Paris alone who could do what I do."

"Well, yes, you are replaceable," Dee said with a self-satisfied shrug. "But I have spent a lifetime chasing Nicholas and Perenelle."

"You mean you've spent a lifetime failing to catch them," Machiavelli said, his voice neutral, and then added with a sly smile, "So close, and yet always so far."

But any reply Dee was about to make was cut off when the phone rang.

"This is our decision." It was Dee's Elder master speaking, the male-female voices blending together into one slightly discordant voice. "The Magician will follow the Alchemyst and the twins to England. Your instructions are explicit: destroy Flamel, capture the twins and retrieve the two missing pages. Use whatever means necessary to achieve this objective; we have associates in England who are indebted to us. We will call in those debts. And Doctor… if you fail us this time, then we will temporarily remove the gift of immortality and allow your humani body to age to its very limit… and then, at the moment before your death, we will make you immortal again." There was a rasp that might have been a chuckle or an indrawn breath. "Think about how that will feel: your brilliant mind trapped in an ancient and feeble body, unable to see or hear clearly, unable to walk or move, in constant pain from a score of ailments. You will be forever ancient and yet undying. Fail us and this will be your destiny. We will trap you in this aged fleshy shell for an eternity."

Dee nodded, swallowed hard and then said with as much confidence as he could muster, "I will not fail you."

"And you, Niccolo…" Machiavelli's Elder master spoke. "You will travel to the Americas. The Sorceress is loose on Alcatraz. Do whatever you must to secure the island."

"But I have no contacts in San Francisco," Machiavelli protested quickly, "no allies. Europe has always been my domain."

"We have agents all across the Americas. Even now they are moving westward to await your arrival. We will instruct one to guide and assist you. On Alcatraz, you will find an army of sorts sleeping in the cells, creatures the humani will recognize from their darkest nightmares and foulest myths. It was not our intention to use this army so soon, but events are moving quickly now, much faster than we anticipated. Soon it will be the Time of Litha, the summer solstice. At midsummer, the twins' auras will be at their strongest and the barriers between this world and the myriad Shadowrealms at their weakest. It is our intention to reclaim the world of the humani on that day."

Even Machiavelli was unable to keep his face expressionless. He looked at Dee and found that the Magician too was wide-eyed with shock. Both men had worked for the Dark Elders for centuries and had always known that they intended to return to the world they had once ruled. Still, it was startling to discover that after years of waiting and planning, it was about to happen in just over three weeks' time.