The Magician (The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel #2) by Michael Scott Read Free Book Online

du Dragon.”
    “She’s not French”, Dagon mumbled stickily.
    “Well, she was the mother of three French kings”, Machiavelli said with a rare smile. “But she is loyal only to herself”. His voice trailed away and he straightened. “But what do we have here?”
    Dagon remained unmoving.
    Niccol Machiavelli swiveled the computer screen so that his servant could see the photograph of a man staring directly at the camera in what was obviously a posed publicity shot. Thick curling black hair tumbled to his shoulders, framing a round face. His eyes were startlingly blue.
    “I do not know this man”, Dagon said.
    “Oh, but I do. I know him very well. This is the immortal human once known as the Comte de Saint-Germain. He was a magician, an inventor, a musician and an alchemist.” Machiavelli closed the program and shut down the computer.
    “Saint-Germain was also the student of Nicholas Flamel. And he’s currently living in Paris”, he finished triumphantly.
    Dagon smiled, his mouth a perfect O filled with razor teeth. “Does Flamel know that Saint-Germain is here?”
    “I have no idea. No one knows the extent of Nicholas Flamel’s knowledge.”
    Dagon pushed his sunglasses back in place. “And I thought you knew everything.”

CHAPTER EIGHT
     
    “W e need to rest”, Josh said finally. “I can’t go any farther.” He stopped and leaned against a building, bent over and wheezing. Every breath was an effort, and he was beginning to see black spots dancing in front of his eyes. Any moment now he was going to throw up. He felt this way sometimes after football practice, and he knew from experience that he needed to sit and get some liquids into his system.
    “He’s right.” Scatty turned to Flamel. “We need to rest, even if only briefly.” She was still carrying Sophie in her arms, and with gray glimmers of light illuminating the Parisian rooftops toward the east, the first of the early-morning workers had begun to appear. The fugitives had kept to the dark side streets, and so far no one had paid any attention to the strange group, but that would quickly change as the street filled first with Parisians, then with tourists.
    Nicholas stood outlined at the mouth of the narrow street. He glanced up and down before turning to look over his shoulder. “We have to push on”, he protested. “Every second we delay brings Machiavelli closer to us.”
    “We can’t”, Scatty said. She looked at Flamel, and for a single instant, her bright green eyes glowed. “The twins need to rest”, she said, and then added softly, “And so do you, Nicholas. You’re exhausted.”
    The Alchemyst considered her and then he nodded and his shoulders slumped. “You’re right, of course. I’ll do as you say.”
    “Maybe we could check into a hotel?” Josh suggested. He was achingly tired, his eyes and throat gritty, head throbbing.
    Scatty shook her head. “They would ask for our passports.” Sophie stirred in her arms, and Scathach gently eased her to the ground and leaned her up against the wall.
    Josh was immediately by her side. “You’re awake”, he said, relief in his voice.
    “I wasn’t really asleep”, Sophie answered, her tongue feeling too big for her mouth. “I knew what was going on, but it was as if I was looking at it from the outside. Like watching something on TV.” She pressed her hands into the small of her back and pushed hard as she rotated her neck. “Ouch. That hurt.”
    “What hurts?” Josh asked immediately.
    “Everything.” She attempted to straighten, but aching muscles protested and a sick headache pulsed behind her eyes.
    “Is there anyone here you can call for help?” Josh looked from Nicholas to Scathach. “Are there any more immortals or Elders?”
    “There are immortals and Elders everywhere”, Scatty said. “Few are as friendly as we are, though”, she added with a humorless smile.
    “There will be immortals in Paris”, Flamel agreed slowly, “but I’ve no idea