CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN.

Josh leaned against the door of the study and peered inside. Two of the walls were lined with books, a third with DVDs, while an enormous projection TV took up the fourth wall.

The red-haired Elder was stretched out in a lounger, idly flicking through cable channels at high speed. He hesitated when he came to CNN, watched it for a moment, then clicked to another channel.

Josh rapped on the doorframe. "You wanted to see me," he said quietly. He was surprised by how calm he felt. There were no nerves, but he wasn't feeling much excitement, either.

"Come in," Prometheus said without turning around. He pointed to a matching lounger with the remote control. "Sit for a minute, let us talk."

Josh climbed onto the lounger and hit the b.u.t.ton that brought the footstool up. "My dad has one just like this," he explained. "He has the model with the ma.s.sage and heat functions."

"I had that one, but every time I used the ma.s.sage, I thought there was an earthquake, so I sent it back."

They sat in silence while Prometheus continued to surf the channels. The Elder only slowed at news and black-and-white movies. "Hundreds of channels and never anything worth watching," he muttered.

Josh took the opportunity to look at the Elder: the only light in the study came from the flickering TV, which made it seem as if his face was constantly in motion. Now that he was close, Josh could see that Prometheus's cheeks and chin were crisscrossed with tiny scars that were partially hidden by his beard. There were more scars on his forehead.

"They're little keepsakes of my time in prison," the Elder said, his deep rumbling voice making Josh jump.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stare." Josh had no idea how the Elder had known he was looking at him.

Prometheus rubbed the back of his hand against his forehead. "I rarely think of them now. I could heal myself and make them disappear, but I like to keep them as reminders."

"Of what?" Josh wondered.

"That some things are worth fighting for... and that everything has a cost."

"Why were you in prison?" Josh asked. "If you don't mind me asking," he added quickly.

The huge man waved his hand dismissively. "An old, old story, too long and too complicated to tell you now." He paused and added, "You should ask your sister about it sometime. She will know."

"Because the Witch knew?"

"How long has she known my sister?" the Elder asked. He turned his huge green eyes on the boy.

"Would you believe, we met her once, very briefly, last Friday..." Josh's voice trailed away. It was hard to even try to think back to earlier that week, when all of this had begun. It seemed like a lifetime ago. "She taught Sophie the Magic of Air, and pa.s.sed on all her knowledge at the same time. I don't know how. I wasn't in the room when it happened."

"And you've no idea why my sister did that?"

"None. You'd have to ask Sophie," he said, "though I doubt she knows."

"You don't look much like any of the other Golds I've seen," the Elder said finally, breaking the long silence that followed Josh's statement.

"Have you seen many other Golds?"

"Too many."

"And what does a Gold look like?" Josh asked.

"Frightened."

"Oh, I'm not frightened anymore," Josh said simply. "I've gone beyond frightened, past terrified. Now I'm into petrified."

Prometheus stared intently at Josh. "What frightens you?"

Josh picked up the remote control and started flipping through the channels. "Everything. This place. You. The Flamels. Dee. Machiavelli. The Shadowrealms, the leygates. The magic." His voice rose with each sentence. "The thought that everything we were taught-every single thing we've ever learned, at home and in school, from books, from TV-is wrong. And Sophie," he finished in a hoa.r.s.e whisper, finally admitting his deepest fear. "I don't think I know her anymore. And it's all your sister's fault." He glared at the Elder, his anger making him reckless. "She changed her when she gave her those memories."

Surprisingly, Prometheus nodded in agreement. "Sisters are a trial," he said. "And it doesn't matter if they're Elder or humani. Sometimes I think they exist solely to upset and annoy their brothers. I was once as close to mine as you are to yours." He paused and added, "I've not spoken to her in millennia."

"What happened?"

Prometheus shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I thought I knew. Now I am beginning to think that I might have been wrong. For ages I thought she had betrayed me to Chronos. Now... now I am not so sure. I made the mistake of not speaking directly to her." His green eyes glowed in the dark. "Whatever happens between you and your sister, make sure you talk to her before making any decisions. Don't allow anyone to tell you what she said, or what she did-make sure she tells you herself."

"Is that, like, a warning?"

Prometheus grunted a laugh. "No, I just don't want you making the same mistake I did."

They sat in silence while Josh continued to flip through the channels. "You get a lot of foreign stations," he said, eventually stopping at a soccer game. The commentary was in a language he couldn't identify, Korean maybe. They watched that together until one team scored a goal and then Josh said casually, "You've trained some of the other Golds in the Magic of Fire."

"Some," Prometheus admitted.

Still concentrating fiercely on the television, Josh continued, "And do you know what happened to them? Where they are now?"

"I believe most are dead, Josh," Prometheus said very softly.

"Most of them?"

"All the ones I trained. I cannot speak for the others."

Stopping at the Weather Channel, Josh swiveled in the chair to face the Elder. "That doesn't sound like good news for me, then, does it?"

"Probably not," Prometheus agreed.

"I know the process is dangerous..."

Prometheus shook his big head. "No, the Awakening is the most dangerous process of all." Tilting his head back, he breathed deeply. "And I can tell by the stink that clings to you that you were Awakened by Mars Ultor himself."

Josh nodded, surprised by the vehemence in the Elder's voice. "In the Catacombs of Paris."

"Ah, so that's where she hid him," Prometheus said enigmatically. "When all this is over I must go and pay my respects."

"You don't like him?" Josh asked, curious.

"He was my friend, my closest friend, closer than a brother. He married my sister and I was thrilled..." The Elder's voice faded away.

"Something happened?"

"The swords happened. Mars found Excalibur in an abandoned temple on a deserted island. And it led him to Clarent. Zephaniah claimed it was the swords that corrupted him, but I was never sure about that. All I know is that he betrayed the people he had sworn to protect. I hunted him across the world and through the Shadowrealms, and just when I was closing in on him, he disappeared. Later, centuries later, I discovered that my sister had secreted him away to keep him safe from my vengeance, but I never knew where." He bared his teeth in a grimace that might have pa.s.sed for a smile. "Until now. Thank you."

"Leave him alone," Josh said fiercely. "He's in terrible pain, trapped in a sh.e.l.l of molten lava. He's been that way for thousands of years."

"Good," Prometheus said cruelly. "It is a small price to pay for what he did to my people."

"Your people?"

"My people. The humani. I created them, Josh. It was my aura that brought them to life. Every humani on this planet-including you-has a spark of my aura within them. Do you know why Mars Ultor enslaved the humans and sacrificed them on the ancient pyramids?"

Josh shook his head, but he suddenly remembered the flickering images he'd caught while he'd been carrying Clarent. They started to make sense now.

"For that spark of life. Mars Ultor was harvesting my aura."

"Why?"

Prometheus shook his head. "That is also another tale for another day. You are here to learn the Magic of Fire," he said suddenly, changing the subject.

"Yes. If you will teach me."

"I will. But I want you to know that I am doing this against my better judgment," Prometheus continued. "I am doing this because my sister said I should, and as you know, saying no to your older sister is practically impossible. And also because I don't think she has ever been wrong."

Josh sighed. "That sounds just like Sophie."

Prometheus flicked his thumb and a flat gray disc spun in the air.

Startled, Josh caught it in his right hand and leaned forward so that he could examine it in the light from the TV. It was a small stone circle about the size of his palm. The stone was polished smooth, and there were traces of gold and bronze paint on the surface. In the center was a round-eyed open-mouthed face with a series of rings around it. Etched and carved into each ring were countless blocky symbols. Josh frowned. He'd seen something like this before. "It's an Aztec calendar," he said finally. "My mom has one just like it in her study."

"It's called a sunstone," Prometheus said quietly.

Josh turned the smooth stone disc over in his hands. It felt warm.

"I know your sister was taught Fire magic by Saint-Germain."

Josh squirmed uncomfortably. "Nicholas told me not to mention his name in front of you."

The Elder waved a huge hand. "Saint-Germain is a rogue, a liar and a thief, but I forgave him. He was my student for a long time; then he either got lazy or greedy. He stole the secret of fire from me, but"-the Elder shrugged-"it was hard for me to remain mad at him, because I'd originally stolen fire myself. Someone-not me-taught Saint-Germain how to use the Magic of Fire, but they did not know all my secrets. I will teach you more about the Magic of Fire than your sister will ever know. Look at the sunstone."

Josh looked down into the palm of his hand, and his breath caught in his chest. The disc had started to throb and pulse with a dull golden light, and for a moment, he thought the eyes on the carved face had blinked and the tongue had flickered.

"I swore I would never teach another humani the Magic of Fire, but there are some promises which should be broken."

Wisps of yellow smoke steamed off the stone and the scent of oranges filled the room.

"You are the sun, Josh; fire is your natural element. Your sister is the moon, and her primary element is water. Yes, your sister knows fire, but you, Josh, you will know it a hundred times better!"

And the disc burst into flame.

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT.

Sophie screamed.

She leapt up from the kitchen table clutching her hand.

Perenelle and Aoife surged to their feet on either side of her. Only Flamel and Niten remained seated.

"What's wrong?" Perenelle demanded.

Sophie held up her right hand. Her palm was bright red. "I thought... It felt like something burned me," she said, blinking away tears.

Perenelle crossed to the sink and ran cold water onto a tea towel, then pressed it against Sophie's palm. "So, it's begun," she said, looking into the girl's eyes. "Prometheus is teaching your brother the Magic of Fire."

"But it didn't hurt when Saint-Germain taught me."

"There are as many ways to teach magic as there are teachers," Perenelle said.

"I should go to him...," Sophie began.

"You cannot. This is something he has to do alone." Perenelle drew Sophie back to the table. "Sit; there is something we must do."

Perenelle sat down across from Nicholas at the small kitchen table. Aoife had taken the third seat, facing Sophie. Niten sat on the couch where Sophie had slept earlier. He was slowly and methodically running a cloth along the length of his katana.

In the center of the table sat a carved wooden box.

Sophie looked closely at it. She was aware of a hint of exotic spices in the air, and she recognized one of the smells as jasmine, Aunt Agnes's favorite perfume. And when she looked at the box, she realized she'd seen the triple spiral carved into the sides and the top of the box before. She had a sudden flash of Zephaniah seeing the same triple spiral carved into the gla.s.s walls of the Nameless City.

Sophie watched as Nicholas carefully lifted the lid and reached into the box to remove an object wrapped in a bag of finely woven gra.s.s and wicker.

One by one all of their auras started to spark and crackle, darting cinders of light around the room-green and white, silver and gray, and speckles of royal blue from Niten. Perenelle's hair rose slightly off her shoulders, static snapping through it.

Perenelle picked up the box and the lid and set them on the ground, and the Alchemyst placed the gra.s.s-wrapped object in the center of the table. He began to tug at the twisted strands of gra.s.s, crackling threads of power crawling across his fingers.

"You might have seen this before," Perenelle said to Aoife, and then she looked at Sophie. "Maybe you, too. Well, not you, but the Witch. In fact," she added lightly, "you may know more about it than we do."

Nicholas peeled apart the gra.s.s knots and the covering fell away to reveal an intricately beautiful crystal skull that was almost-but not quite-human. When the Alchemyst laid his hand on it, a slow wave of mint green light pulsed through the translucent crystal. Perenelle put her hand on top of his and the skull started to glow.

"Now you," Nicholas said, looking at Aoife.

She looked at him with an expression of absolute disgust on her face. "I am not touching that abominable thing," she said hoa.r.s.ely.