Sophie reached out to squeeze her brother s arm. He looked down: the hand
that gripped his arm was wrapped in a chain-mail glove. Josh, I have to do
this.
No, you don't.
I do.
Josh looked into his sister s face. It was set in the stubborn mask he knew
so well. Finally, he turned away, saying nothing. He didn't want his sister
learning any more magic not only was it dangerous but it would also distance
her even further from him.
Joan turned to Flamel. And now, Nicholas, you must rest.
The Alchemyst nodded. I will.
We were expecting you back a long time ago, Scathach said. I was thinking
I d have to go out in search of you.
The butterfly led me here hours ago, Nicholas said tiredly, voice muffled
with exhaustion. Once I knew where you were, I wanted to wait for night to
fall before approaching the house, just in case it is under observation.
Machiavelli doesn t even know this house exists, Saint-Germain said
confidently.
Perenelle taught me a simple cloaking spell a long time ago, but it only
works when it s raining it uses water droplets to refract light around the
user, Flamel explained. I decided to wait until nightfall to increase my
chances of remaining unseen.
What did you do for the day? Sophie asked.
I wandered around the city, looking for some of my old haunts.
Surely most are gone? Joan said.
Most. Not all. Flamel reached down and lifted an object wrapped in
newspaper from the floor. It made a solid thump when he dropped it on the
table. The house in Montmorency is still there.
I should have guessed you d visit Montmorency, Scathach said with a sad
smile. She looked at the twins and explained, It is the house where Nicholas
and Perenelle lived in the fifteenth century. We spent some happy times
there.
Very happy, Flamel agreed.
And it s still there? Sophie asked, amazed.
One of the oldest houses in Paris, Flamel said proudly.
What else did you do? Saint-Germain asked.
Nicholas shrugged. Visited the Mus e de Cluny. It s not every day you get to
see your own gravestone. I guess it s comforting to know that people still
remember me the real me.
Joan smiled. There is a street named after you, Nicholas: the Rue Flamel.
And one named in honor of Perenelle, too. But somehow, I don't think that s
the real reason you visited the museum, is it? She said shrewdly, You never
struck me as a sentimental man.
The Alchemyst smiled. Well, not the only reason, he admitted. He reached
into his jacket pocket and plucked out a narrow cylindrical tube. Everyone
around the table leaned forward. Even Scatty stepped in to look at it.
Unscrewing both ends, Flamel removed and unrolled a length of rustling
parchment. Nearly six hundred years ago, I hid this within my tombstone,
little thinking that I would ever need to use it. He spread the thick yellow
parchment on the table. Drawn in red ink faded to the color of rust was an
oval with a circle inside it, surrounded by three lines forming a rough
triangle.
Josh leaned over. I ve seen something like that before. He frowned. isn't
there something like that on the dollar bill?
Ignore what it looks like, Flamel said. It s drawn this way to disguise
its true meaning.
What is it? Josh asked.
It s a map, Sophie said suddenly.
Yes, it s a map, Nicholas agreed. But how did you know? The Witch of Endor
never saw this .
No, it has nothing to do with the Witch, Sophie smiled. She leaned across
the table, her head brushing her brother s. She pointed to the top right-hand
corner of the parchment, where a tiny, barely visible cross was etched in red
ink. This definitely looks like an N, she said, pointing to the top of the
cross, and this is an S.
North and south. Josh nodded in quick agreement. Genius, Soph! He looked
at Nicholas. It s a map.
The Alchemyst nodded. Very good. It s a map of all the ley lines in Europe.
Towns and cities, even borders might change beyond all recognition, but the
ley lines remain the same. He held up the square. This is our passport out
of Europe and back to America.
Let s hope we get a chance to use it, Scatty muttered.
Josh touched the edge of the newspaper-wrapped bundle that sat in the center
of the table. And what s this?
Nicholas furled the parchment back into the tube and slipped it into his
jacket pocket. Then he began to unwrap layers of newspaper from the object on
the table. Perenelle and I were in Spain close to the end of the fourteenth
century when the one-handed man revealed the first secret of the Codex, he
said, speaking to no one in particular, his French accent now pronounced.
The first secret? Josh asked.
you've seen the text it changes but it changes in a strict mathematical
sequence. It s not random. The changes are linked to the movements of the
stars and planets, the phases of the moon.
Like a calendar? Josh said.
Flamel nodded. Just like a calendar. Once we had learned that code sequence,
we knew we could finally return to Paris. It would take us a lifetime several
lifetimes to translate the book, but at least we had learned where to start.
So I changed some stones into diamonds, and some flat pieces of shale into
gold, and we started out on the long journey back to Paris. By then, of
course, we had come to the attention of the Dark Elders, and Bacon, Dee s
foul predecessor, was closing in. Rather than take a direct route into
France, we kept to the back roads and avoided the usual passes across the
mountains, which we knew would be watched. However, winter arrived early that
year I believe the Dark Elders had something to do with it and we found
ourselves cut off in Andorra. And that is where I found this . He touched
the object on the table.
Josh looked at his sister, eyebrows raised in a silent question. Andorra? he
mouthed; she was much better at geography than he was.
One of the smallest countries in the world, she explained in a whisper, in
the Pyrenees between Spain and France.
Flamel unwrapped more paper. Before I died, I hid this object deep within
the stone over the lintel of the house on the Rue de Montmorency. I never
thought I would need it again.
Within? Josh asked, confused. Did you say you hid it within?
Within. I changed the molecular structure of the granite, pushed this into
the block of stone and then returned the lintel to its original solid state.
Simple transmutation: like pushing a nut into a tub of ice cream. The final
sheet of newspaper tore as he pulled it away.
It s a sword, Josh whispered in awe, looking at the short narrow weapon
nestled on the paper-strewn table. He guessed it was about twenty inches
long, its simple cross hilt wrapped in strips of stained dark leather. The
blade seemed to be made of a sparkling gray metal. No, not metal. A stone
sword, he said aloud, frowning. It reminded him of something almost as if he
had seen it before.
But even as he was speaking, Joan and Saint-Germain scrambled away from the
table, the woman s chair falling over in her eagerness to get away from the
blade. Behind Flamel, Scathach hissed like a cat, vampire teeth appearing as