Part 5 (1/2)
Less than a week ago, he'd run up and down this corridor unloading a delivery of books from the back of a van. Now all the boxes he had so carefully piled on top of each other were black with mildew, the sides burst open, the books swollen like rotten fruit, almost unrecognizable.
Less than a week ago.
The realization suddenly brought home to Josh how much had changed in the past few days, how much he had discovered and how little he-and the rest of the world-knew about the truth.
Taking a deep breath, the fetid air catching at the back of his throat, Josh then opened his eyes and crept down the corridor, pushed open the door and stepped out into the bookshop.
And stopped in shock.
The shop was an unrecognizable ruin, lost beneath a thick layer of dust and furry mold-it was decaying right before his eyes. The sunlight shafting through the filthy streaked windows showed that the air was thick with drifting spores. Josh clamped his lips shut; he didn't want to risk getting any of them in his mouth. He took a step forward and felt the creaking floorboards s.h.i.+ft beneath his weight. A bubble of foul black liquid formed on the wood, and his foot began to sink. Jerking back, he pressed himself against the wall, only to discover that it too was slimy with decay. The plaster was so soft his fingers sank into it.
Looking around, Josh realized with horror that the shop was being eaten: this fungus was feeding off everything-wood, paper, carpet. What was the place going to look like in a couple of hours?
He'd come to the bookshop because Nicholas and Perenelle lived in the apartments above it, and he was hoping that they had returned there. Glancing upward, he noticed the gaping hole in the ceiling, the trailing wires and rotten joists. He suddenly wondered how long it would be before the supports gave way and the upper floors collapsed and then the rest of the building crashed into the cellar.
He edged his way along the wall toward the stairs. It stood to reason that the Flamels would have more than one address in the city. They must have set up places they could escape to if danger threatened. Josh hoped that he'd be able to find an address upstairs-a bill, a letter, something, anything to give him a hint of where they were. The banister s.h.i.+fted as he grabbed it-the wood had the consistency of jelly. He pulled his hand back in disgust and was about to rub it against his jeans when he stopped. If the filthy black mold was able to eat through wood, what would it do to his pants? The last thing he needed now was for his pants to rot off his legs. Could this eat through his flesh? he suddenly wondered with a shudder. The desire to turn and run was almost overwhelming, but he knew that his only chance of finding his sister lay with the Flamels, so he started up the stairs.
Each step moved beneath his weight. He was halfway up when his foot went all the way through a stair with a dull snap. He felt the entire staircase sway, and he realized that it was going to collapse. He launched himself up the rest of the way just as the staircase shuddered and collapsed, cras.h.i.+ng into the shop below. Josh's chest slammed onto the landing; his legs dangled in midair as his fingers scrambled to grab hold of the thick carpet covering the upper floor, but it ripped and shredded to threads in his grip. He attempted to scream but the sound got caught at the back of his throat. A chunk of carpet ripped away in his hand and he jerked backward...
Iron-hard fingers caught his wrists.
Josh was hauled up and found himself looking into Perenelle Flamel's bright green eyes. ”Josh Newman,” she murmured as she set him down gently on the landing. ”We were not expecting you.”
Nicholas appeared out of a doorway and stopped beside his wife. ”We were expecting... trouble,” he said quietly. ”It's good to see you.”
Josh rubbed his numb wrists. Perenelle's strength was astonis.h.i.+ng, and she'd almost wrenched his shoulders out of their sockets when she'd lifted him straight up in the air. He pressed his hands against his chest where it had hit the landing and took a deep breath. He was bruised, but he didn't think he'd broken any ribs.
”What brings you here, Josh?” Perenelle said softly, her eyes searching his face. She answered her own question: ”Sophie.”
”Sophie's missing,” Josh said breathlessly. ”She was kidnapped by a girl calling herself Aoife. She said she was Scathach's sister,” he added. ”She sure looked like her.” He saw their expressions change slightly, watched what he recognized as fear flicker in the Alchemyst's eyes. ”That's not good, is it?”
Perenelle shook her head. ”Not good at all.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
”Vingt... vingt-et-un...twenty-two.” Joan of Arc slid down the gra.s.sy incline and rejoined her companion on the banks of the narrow stream. ”What do you call twenty-two saber-toothed tigers?” the slender, gray-eyed woman asked breathlessly. ”A pack, a pride?”
”I call them trouble,” Scathach said shortly. She straightened and looked back up the incline. ”And you're about to tell me they're heading this way.”
Joan nodded. ”They are heading this way,” she said with a grin.
Scathach tapped her foot at the edge of the stream. It fit into a huge splayed footprint sunk in the mud. ”This is their watering hole.” Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply and then pointed with one of her matched short swords. ”More are approaching from the south.”
”And from the east,” Joan added.
Scatty opened her eyes and looked at her friend. The late-afternoon suns.h.i.+ne turned Joan's pale skin golden. ”How do you know?”
The Frenchwoman caught the red-haired warrior's shoulder and turned her. Three enormous saber-toothed tigers had appeared out of the tall gra.s.s. They stood still, savage jaws gaping, eyes wide and unblinking, only their tails twitching slightly. ”Fight or run?” Joan asked.
”If we run, they'll chase us,” Scatty said matter-of-factly.
”If we fight, they'll overpower us. There are too many of them. Maybe thirty in total.”
The largest of the saber-toothed tigers moved almost in slow motion and took a tentative step forward. Enormous slit-pupiled golden eyes fixed on Scathach.
”I think he likes you,” Joan murmured. She touched the sword strapped to her shoulder and realized that if all the creatures attacked at once, her weapon would be useless.
”I've always preferred dogs,” Scathach said, watching the creature carefully. ”You know where you are with dogs.” She slid her matched swords into their sheaths on her back and pulled her nunchaku from their pouch on her hip. ”Stay here,” she commanded, and then, before Joan could reply, she raced toward the tiger.
The huge creature froze.
A dozen steps carried the warrior across the ground, the nunchaku buzzing and spinning in her right hand.
The tiger hunched, tail swis.h.i.+ng wildly, ropy threads of saliva on its enormous teeth... and then it jumped, thick claws extended.
”Scatty!” Joan managed to gasp, even as the red-haired warrior launched herself into the air, like a swimmer diving into the sea. Her leap carried her straight over the tiger, and her nunchaku snapped out, the blunt end of the twelve-inch length of carved wood catching the creature on the back of the skull. Scatty spun in midair and landed lightly on her feet. The tiger, stunned by the blow, crashed to the ground in a tangle of limbs. The beast immediately clambered shakily to its feet, wobbled and then fell over again.
Scatty turned to face its two companions, tapping the nunchaku in the palm of her left hand. The creatures looked at her, looked at their companion, then stepped back, melting into the long gra.s.ses.
When Joan spun around, she discovered that the other tigers had disappeared too. ”Very impressive,” she said.
”You just have to show them who's boss,” Scatty answered, kneeling beside the huge saber-toothed tiger. She ran her hand over the back of its head, then raised its eyelid to look at it. The beast rumbled but made no attempt to get up.
Joan crouched beside her friend. She looked at the tiger's teeth. The incisors were the length of her hand and tapered to points that could probably pierce armor.
”The trick,” Scatty said, ”is to hit them just where the base of the skull touches the spine. The blow stuns them.”
”And if you miss?”
”Then you just make them mad.” Scatty's smile revealed her own savage teeth. ”But I don't miss.” She patted the huge beast. ”It'll wake up with a headache.”
Joan of Arc straightened and tapped her friend's shoulder.
”What?” Scatty looked up.
Joan nodded toward the hill. The twenty-two saber-toothed tigers had gathered on the brow. They were joined by two more, and then another four appeared. They all looked to be fully grown adults, and their rumbling growls actually vibrated through the ground.
”Do you think this one might have been the leader of the pack?” Joan asked.