Part 28 (1/2)

”Will this take long?” the sphinx asked.

”Why, you in a hurry to go somewhere?” Billy asked.

The creature's mouth opened to reveal a maw of needle-sharp teeth. ”I've not had breakfast yet.” The sphinx looked at Machiavelli. ”Arrogance always tastes sweet, like chicken. If you will not give him to me, then let me buy him from you. I will give you a fortune for this humani.”

”How much of a fortune?” Machiavelli asked with a smile.

”Hey!” Billy said indignantly.

”How much do you want?” the sphinx asked seriously.

”I'm not for sale!” Billy snapped.

”We'll talk about it later,” Machiavelli said to the sphinx. ”We must hurry; time is moving on. Our masters want these creatures loose in the city by noon.”

The sphinx turned and padded away. ”Go through these doors. I will meet you downstairs,” she said, and then Billy realized that the creature was too big to fit through the double doors. Her head turned at an unnatural angle and she flicked her long black tongue at Billy. He stuck out his tongue in return. ”Like chicken...” She padded away, claws clicking on the stones.

”That wasn't funny,” Billy hissed to the Italian. ”You know these Elders and Next Generation have no sense of humor. She thought you were serious.”

”How do you know I wasn't?” the Italian asked.

”I knew you were going to say that,” Billy said. He watched as Machiavelli stopped in the doorway and turned to look at the city across the bay. ”Having second thoughts?” he asked.

Machiavelli shook his head. ”Just taking a last look.” He turned to Billy. ”Once we do this, nothing will ever be the same again. We will be outlaws.”

Billy the Kid grinned. ”I've been an outlaw all my life. It's not so bad.”

CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO.

”Coatlicue...”

The word rippled through the s.p.a.ces between the Shadowrealms.

”Coatlicue...”

The word vibrated and trembled, pulsed and throbbed.

”Coatlicue...”

A single voice, calling, calling, calling.

All she had left were dreams.

Dreams of a golden age.

Dreams of a golden time.

Of a time when she was beautiful.

Of a time when she was young.

Of a time when she ruled the world.

And now those dreams were disturbed.

”Coatlicue...”

Josh Newman took a deep breath and focused on the four swords, which Dee had arranged in a square on the floor. They were each glowing softly, steaming red and white, green and brown smoke into the air.

”Coatlicue...”

”All you have to do is to call her,” Dee had said. ”There is a magic in names, a power in them. She will hear you and she will come. The unique combination of the swords and your powerful aura will draw her here.”

”And she will teach me necromancy?” Josh asked.

”Yes,” Dee had said, and for a single instant, Josh had thought he'd heard Nicholas and Perenelle screaming ”No!” Then he realized that that was what they probably would say. If he could learn necromancy, he would be able to find out the truth about the Flamels and the Elders and more, much, much more. He'd be able to talk to all the great men and women of history, ask them questions, discover their secrets, find out where they had hidden their treasures. He could resurrect dinosaurs from single bones, even-and the thought was shocking-re-create primitive men so that his parents could study them firsthand. And somewhere, at the back of his mind, he wondered why, if Dee was a necromancer, he had not used the power in the same way. Just what had the Magician used necromancy for?

”Coatlicue...” Josh focused on the swords. Clarent was at the bottom of the square, the blade pointing to the left. Durendal was on the left-hand side, its blade pointing up; Excalibur was on top, its blade pointing right, toward Joyeuse, whose blade was pointing down. The stone swords were trailing fire into the air, and the colors had started to weave and entwine in the middle of the square.

She slept.

And her sleep lasted eons.

She dreamt.

And her dreams lasted centuries.

But the nightmares lasted millennia.

And in this place without light, without sound, without sensation, she did not know whether she woke or slept. She simply existed.

Red. A spot of color.

But in this foul prison, there was no light.

Another speck: white. Tiny, distant.

The Elders had bound her in utter darkness. There had never been light. Until now.

A third spot: brown.

And now a fourth light, and it was green.

She turned toward the lights.