Michael Scott - The Alchemyst

That night, Dr. John Dee became the champion of the Dark Elders.

It was a mission that had taken him across the world, and into the manyShadowrealms that bordered it. He had fought ghosts and ghouls, creaturesthat had no right to exist outside of nightmares, others that were left overfrom a time predating the arrival of the humani. He had gone to battle at thehead of an army of monsters and had spent at least a decade wandering lost inan icy Otherworld. Many times, he had been concerned for his safety, but hehad never been truly frightened until this moment, sitting before theentrance to a Bel Air estate in twenty-first-century Los Angeles. In thoseearly days he had not been fully aware of the powers of the creatures heserved, but nearly four and a half centuries in their service had taught himmany things including the fact that death was probably the least of all thepunishments they could inflict on him.

The armed security guard stepped back and the high metal gates clicked open,allowing Dee s car to sweep in on the long white stone driveway toward thesprawling marble mansion that was just visible through the trees. Althoughnight had fallen, no lights were showing in the house, and for a moment Deeimagined that no one was at home. Then he remembered that the person thecreature he had come to meet preferred the hours of darkness and had no needof lights.

The car turned into the circular drive in front of the main entrance, wherethe headlights picked up a trio of people standing on the bottom step. Whenthe car finally crunched to a halt on the white gravel, a figure stepped upto the door and pulled it open. It was impossible to make out any details inthe gloom, but the voice that came out of the darkness was male, and spoke tohim in heavily accented English. Dr. Dee, I presume. I am Senuhet. Please,come in. We ve been expecting you. Then the figure turned away and strode upthe steps.

Dee climbed out of the car, brushed off his expensive suit and, consciousthat his heart was fluttering, followed Senuhet into the mansion. The othertwo figures fell into step on either side of him. Although no one saidanything, Dee knew they were guards. And he wasn t entirely sure they werehuman.

The magician recognized the heavy, cloying scent as soon as he stepped intothe house: it was frankincense, the rare and incredibly expensive aromaticgum from the Middle East, used in ancient times in Egypt and Greece and asfar to the east as China. Dee felt his eyes water and his nose twitch. Thoseof the Elder Race were particularly fond of frankincense, but it gave him aheadache.

As the three shadowy figures led Dee into the great hallway, he caught aglimpse of Senuhet: a small, slender man, bald and olive skinned. He lookedas if he was of Middle Eastern origin, from Egypt or Yemen. Senuhet pushedclosed the heavy front door, spoke two words Stay here and then disappearedinto the darkness, leaving Dee in the company of the two silent guards.

Dee looked around. Even in the shadowy half-light, he could see that thehallway was bare. There was no furniture on the tiled floor, there were nopictures or mirrors on the walls, no curtains on the windows. He knew thatthere were houses like this scattered across the world, homes to those fewDark Elders who liked to walk in the world of men, usually creating mischief.Though they were extraordinarily skilled and dangerous, their powers wereextremely limited because of the proliferation of iron in the modern world,which served to dull their magical energies. In the way that lead waspoisonous to humans, iron, the metal of mankind, was deadly to the ElderRace. Dee knew, even without looking, that there would not be a scrap of thatparticular metal in this house. Everything would be made of gold or silver,even down to the door handles and the taps in the bathrooms.

The Dark Elders valued their privacy; their preference was for quiet,out-of-the-way places small islands, patches of desert, countries likeSwitzerland, portions of the former Soviet Union, the arctic reaches ofCanada, Himalayan temples and the Brazilian jungle. When they chose to livein cities like this one, their houses were secured behind walls and wire, thegrounds patrolled by armed guards and dogs. And if anyone was lucky orfoolish enough to actually reach the house, they would encounter older,darker and more lethal guards.

This way.

Dee was pleased that he d managed to control his fright at the sound ofSenuhet s voice; he hadn t heard the man return. Would they go up or down? hewondered. In his experience those of the Elder Race fell into two neatcategories: those who preferred to sleep on roofs and those who preferredbasements. The Morrigan was a creature of attics and roofs.

Senuhet stepped into a puddle of light and Dee noted now that his eyes werepainted with black kohl, the top lid completely blackened, two horizontallines running from the corners of his eyes to his ears. Three vertical whitelines were painted on his chin, beneath his lips. He led Dee to a concealeddoor directly under the broad staircase and opened it with a password in thelanguage that the boy king Tutankhamen would have spoken. Dee followed thefigure into a pitch-black corridor and stopped when the door clicked shutbehind them. He heard the man moving ahead of him, then his footstepsclicking on stairs.

Down. Dee should have guessed that the Dark Elder the Morrigan had sent himto see would be a creature of basements and tunnels. I ll need light, he said aloud. I don t want to fall down the stairs in the dark and break myneck. His voiced echoed slightly in the confined space.

There is no electricity in this house, Dr. John Dee. But we have heard thatyou are a magician of note. If you wish to create light, then you arepermitted to do so.

Without a word, Dee stretched out his hand. A blue spark snapped to life inhis palm. It buzzed and hissed, spinning about, then it started to grow, fromthe size of a pea to that of a grape. It gave off a cold blue-white light.Holding his hand out in front of him, Dee started down the stairs.

He began to count the steps as he descended, but quickly gave up, distractedby the decorations on the walls, the ceiling and even the floor. It was likestepping into an Egyptian tomb, but, unlike any of the countless tombs he hadseen, where the artwork was faded, chipped and broken and everything wascoated in a fine layer of gritty sand, here the decorations were pristine,brilliant and complete. The colors, slightly distorted by the blue light hewas carrying, looked as if they had just been laid down, the pictographs andhieroglyphs were vivid and crisp, the names of gods picked out in thick goldleaf.

A sudden updraft caused the blue-white ball of light to flicker and dance inhis hand, sending the shadows leaping and darting. Dee s nostrils flared: thewind carried the stench of something old old and long dead.

The stairs ended in a wide, vaulted cellar. Dee felt something crunch andsnap beneath his feet with his first step. He lowered his hand and theblue-white light shone across the floor which was covered with countless tinywhite bones, blanketing the ground in an ivory carpet. It took Dee a longmoment before he recognized the bones as those of rats and mice. Some of themwere so old that they crumbled into white powder when he disturbed them, butothers were much newer. Unwilling to ask a question to which he really didnot want an answer, Dee followed his silent guide, bones crunching andcrackling with every step. He lifted his hand high, shedding light across thechamber. Unlike the stairwell, however, this room was unadorned, the wallsstreaked black with moisture, green mold gathering close to the floor,sprouting fungi dappling the ceiling.

Looks like you have a problem with damp, Dee said unnecessarily, simply tobreak the growing silence.

Have you been here long? Dee wondered, glancing around.