voice. Would she like to make a statement for the French press? Tell her
it s Nicholas Montmorency. We spoke once before; I m sure she ll remember
me, he added.
I'll ask .
The voice faded away and Flamel heard the reporter calling out for Dora
Witcherly. In the background, he also heard the sound of countless police,
fire and ambulance sirens and the fainter shouts and cries of distressed
people.
And it was all his fault.
He shook his head quickly. No, it was not his fault. This was Dee s doing.
Dee knew no sense of proportion; he had almost burned London'to the ground in
1666, had devastated Ireland with the Great Famine in the 1840s, had
destroyed most of San Francisco in 1906 and now he d emptied the graveyards
around Ojai. No doubt the streets were littered with bones and bodies.
Nicholas heard the reporter s muted voice and then the sound of the cell
phone being handed over.
Monsieur Montmorency? Dora said politely in perfect French.
Madame. You are unharmed?
Dora s voice fell to a whisper and she slipped into an archaic form of the
French language that would be incomprehensible to any modern eavesdropper.
It s not that easy to kill me, she said quickly. Dee has escaped, cut,
bruised, battered and very, very upset. You are all safe? Scathach too?
Scatty is safe. However, we've had an encounter with Niccol Machiavelli.
So he s still around. Dee must have warned him. Be careful, Nicholas.
Machiavelli is more dangerous than you can imagine. He is even more cunning
than Dee. Now I must hurry, she added urgently. This reporter is getting
suspicious. He probably thinks I m giving you a better story than I gave him.
What do you want?
I need your help, Dora. I need to know who I can trust in Paris. I need to
get the children off the streets. They re exhausted.
Hmmm. The line crackled with the sound of rustling paper. I don't know who
is in Paris at the moment. But I ll find out, she said decisively. What
time is it there?
He glanced at his watch and did the math. Five-thirty in the morning.
Get to the Eiffel Tower. Be there by seven a.m. and wait for ten minutes. If
I can find someone trustworthy, I ll have them meet you there. If no one you
recognize arrives, go back at eight and then at nine. If no one is there by
nine, then you ll know there is no one in Paris you can trust, and you will
have to make your own arrangements.
Thank you, Madame Dora, he said quietly. I ll not forget this debt.
There are no debts between friends, she said. Oh, and Nicholas, try and
keep my granddaughter out of trouble.
I ll do my best, Flamel said. But you know what she s like: she seems to
attract trouble. Though right now, she s watching over the twins in a caf
not far from here. At least she can t get into any trouble there.
CHAPTER TEN
S cathach brought her leg up, pressed the sole of her foot against the seat
of a chair and shoved hard. The wooden chair skipped across the floor and
slammed into the two police officers as they pushed through the door. They
crashed to the ground, a radio flying from the hand of one, a baton from the
hand of the other. The squawking radio skidded to a halt at Josh s feet. He
leaned over and poured his hot chocolate on it. It died in a fizz of sparks.
Scathach surged to her feet. Without turning her head, she raised an arm and
pointed at Roux. You. Stay right where you are. And don't even think about
phoning for the police.
Heart hammering, Josh grabbed Sophie and pulled her away from the table,
toward the back of the shop, shielding her with his body from the police at
the door.
One of the officers raised a gun. And Scatty s nunchaku struck it in the
barrel with enough force to bend the metal and send the weapon spinning from
the man's hand.
The second officer scrambled to his feet, pulling out a long black baton.
Scathach s right shoulder dipped and the nunchaku reversed direction in
midair, the twelve-inch length of hardened wood striking the police baton
just above its short handle. The baton shattered into ragged splinters.
Scathach flipped the nunchaku back and it dropped into her outstretched hand.
I m in a really bad mood, she said in perfect French. Believe me when I
tell you that you really do not want to fight me.
Scatty , Josh hissed in alarm.
Not now, the Warrior snapped in English. Can t you see I m busy?
Yeah, well, you re about to get busier, Josh shouted. A lot busier. Look
outside.
A police riot squad, in black body armor, full-face helmets and shields,
armed with batons and assault rifles, were racing down the street, straight
for the caf .
RAID, the shop assistant whispered in horror.
Just like SWAT, Scathach said in English, only tougher. She sounded
almost pleased. Glancing sidelong at Roux, she snapped in French, Is there a
back door?
The shop assistant was shocked into immobility, staring at the approaching
squad, and didn't react until Scathach whipped out the nunchaku and the
rounded end whistled past his face, the breeze making him blink.
Is there a back door? she demanded again, but in English.
Yes, yes, of course.
Then get my friends out.
No , Josh began.
Let me do something, Sophie said, a dozen wind spells flickering into her
consciousness. I can help .
No, Josh protested, and reached for his twin just as her blond hair
crackled, sparkling silver.
Out! Scatty shouted, and suddenly it was as if the planes and angles of her
face had altered, cheekbones and chin becoming prominent, green eyes turned
to reflective glass. For an instant, there was something ancient and
primeval and totally alien in her face. I can take care of this. She
started spinning the nunchaku, creating an impenetrable shield between her
and the two policemen. One officer picked up a chair and flung it at her, but
the nunchaku turned it to matchwood.
Roux get them out now! Scatty snarled.
This way, the terrified clerk said in American-accented English. He pushed
past the twins and led them down a narrow chilly corridor and out into a
small foul-smelling yard piled high with trash cans, bits of broken
restaurant furniture and the skeleton of a long-abandoned Christmas tree.
Behind them came the sound of breaking wood.
Roux pointed to a red gate and continued in English. His face was the color
of chalk. That leads to the alleyway. Turn left for the Rue de Dunkerque;
right will bring you down to the Gare du Nord Metro station. Behind them
there was a tremendous smash, followed by the sound of breaking glass. Your
friend, she is in so much trouble, he moaned miserably. And RAID will wreck
the shop. How am I going to explain that to the owner?
There was another crash from inside. A slate tile slid off the roof and
crashed into the yard.
Go, go now. He spun the combination lock and tugged the gate open.
Sophie and Josh ignored him. What do we do? Josh asked his twin. Go or
stay?
Sophie shook her head. She glanced at Roux and lowered her voice to a
whisper. We have nowhere to go we don't know anyone in the city except