The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel by Michael Scott

Author:Michael Scott [Scott, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2021-11-02T00:00:00+00:00

10

I reached over, took the candle from the young man’s fingers, and blew it out.

“I can’t see,” he whispered.

“But I can: a side effect of my immortality. And this candle will blaze like a beacon, warning whatever lies at the other end of this tunnel.”

“Where are we?” he asked.

I looked around. “A crypt, as we suspected. There are coffins set into the walls. Mostly stone, but some wood. Most of the stone coffins have cracked, and the wooden ones have rotted through.”

“Can you see bodies?” he asked, horrified.

“Why would I be looking at…” I stopped. “No,” I said finally. “All the tombs and coffins are empty.”

With Vidocq tightly gripping my sleeve, I moved as quickly as possible down the narrow tunnel. My enhanced vision allowed me to see the imprint of children’s footprints on the ground. But there were other prints too—skeletal feet, and something like the claw of a huge bird: a trio of spikes, with the middle toe twice the length of the others. It was on top of the other prints, which suggested that the creature was following the children. I wished Dagon were with me now; my experience with inhumans was limited, whereas he had met all of them at one time or another. He’d immediately recognize the owner of the claw marks.

“We’re going deeper,” I whispered to Vidocq, aware that he could not see. “We are in the ancient mining tunnels.”

“Are there still tracks?” he asked.

“Yes. Still children’s. And—you need to know this—there are skeletal footprints as well.”

“You’re telling me we might come across skeletons?” His voice was dry and raspy with fear.

“I think we’ll be lucky if we only encounter skeletons. If you must fight one, try to twist its head around backward. That confuses them.”

“I’ll try to remember that.”

“Oh, and don’t let them bite you or stab you with their finger bones.”

“Why?” he asked. “Will that turn me into a skeleton?”

“No. It will just really hurt,” I said. Then I stopped so suddenly he ran into me.

“Is it skeletons?” he whispered.

I moved aside so he could see down the tunnel. There were lights in the distance.

“What’s that sound?” he asked.

I tilted my head and concentrated. Faintly, very faintly, I could make out a metallic plinking sound. “Metal on metal?” I suggested.

“Chains?”

I nodded. It certainly sounded like chains. I could imagine the kidnapped children chained together.

We moved deeper into the tunnels, heading toward a flickering light. The odor of burnt sugar and honey was eye watering, but it was mingled with other odors now: the cloying scent of too many unwashed humans and the heavy earthiness of freshly turned soil.

The tunnel grew even brighter; Vidocq no longer had to hold on to me. Noises were clearer now. The plinking sound was clearly metal hammering metal or stone, and was accompanied by a rasping shuffle and the click-clack of what could only be bone on stone. We dropped to the ground and crawled the last few feet to the tunnel’s entrance.

I peered over the edge of the opening, then ducked again.

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