Nicholas Flamel and the Codex by Michael Scott

Author:Michael Scott [Scott, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2020-09-22T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

—

Roger Bacon stopped at the top of the narrow street and peered down. Behind him, Talos stood so close that his rotten-egg odor completely engulfed Bacon. “I am never going to get your stink out of these clothes,” the old man grumbled.

“You should have used something other than sulfur to power me,” Talos said, gears clicking softly as he attempted to whisper. “I cannot smell it myself, but I understand it is quite noxious.”

“You stink of sour milk, unwashed feet, and rotten eggs,” Bacon muttered.

“I presume you are equally fragrant.”

“I had a bath last Christmas Eve,” Bacon said, indignant. “Excessive washing removes the essential oils from a man’s skin.”

“History would suggest that that is a complete fallacy. Both the Greeks and the Romans bathed every day….”

Bacon raised a hand and Talos fell silent.

In the middle of the street, the three huge stone gargoyles had stopped outside a small, slightly squalid building. The largest of the gargoyles, the three-headed dog, reached out and almost delicately scratched at the wooden door. Its lion’s paws shaved thick curls of wood off the door, leaving long white scars on the dark panels.

Bacon shook his head, confused. “I was convinced our chase would lead us to someplace more…” He paused, hunting for the correct word.

“Grand?” Talos suggested.

“Yes. More grand. This is a shabby house, in a shabby part of town. Hardly the sort of place in which to find a magical book.”

“Or the perfect place,” Talos said. “The last place you would think of looking.”

“There is that,” Bacon agreed.

One of the gargoyles, the squat, muscular creature that most resembled a man, turned to look at Bacon, awaiting direction.

Bacon pointed at the door with his sword. Immediately, the beast charged straight toward the narrow doorway, stone claws spattering mud and half-frozen filth in every direction.

The door opened, light flooding out, throwing the long shadow of a hooded man through the doorway.

The gargoyle lowered its head, aiming its wickedly pointed stone horn at the figure’s chest.

There was a flash of metal, a half circle of orange light, and the gargoyle exploded into a thick cloud of crystalline dust. The icy Parisian night was abruptly heavy with the scent of oranges.

“This must be Marethyu.” Talos’s attempt at a whisper echoed down the street.

The figure standing in the doorway raised his head. Blue eyes blazed in the shadow of his face, and both Bacon and Talos clearly heard him speak. “Ah, the legendary Dr. Mirabilis and his mechanical man.” There was a distinct note of disappointment in his voice. “I thought the Dark Elders would send someone more interesting.” Then he slammed the door shut.

“I think Death has just insulted us,” Talos muttered.

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