BooksBarbecue
Back The Sorceress Save as PDF
Chapters (73)
  1. =Table of Contents=
  2. CHAPTER ONE
  3. CHAPTER TWO
  4. CHAPTER THREE
  5. CHAPTER FOUR
  6. CHAPTER FIVE
  7. CHAPTER SIX
  8. CHAPTER SEVEN
  9. CHAPTER EIGHT
  10. CHAPTER NINE
  11. CHAPTER TEN
  12. CHAPTER ELEVEN
  13. CHAPTER TWELVE
  14. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  15. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  16. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  17. CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  18. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  19. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  20. CHAPTER NINETEEN
  21. CHAPTER TWENTY
  22. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  23. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
  24. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  25. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
  26. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
  27. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
  28. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
  29. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
  30. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
  31. CHAPTER THIRTY
  32. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
  33. CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
  34. CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
  35. CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
  36. CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
  37. CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
  38. CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
  39. CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
  40. CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
  41. CHAPTER FORTY
  42. CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
  43. CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
  44. CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
  45. CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
  46. CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
  47. CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
  48. CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
  49. CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
  50. CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
  51. CHAPTER FIFTY
  52. CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
  53. CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
  54. CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
  55. CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
  56. CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
  57. CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
  58. CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
  59. CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
  60. CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
  61. CHAPTER SIXTY
  62. CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
  63. CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
  64. CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
  65. CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
  66. CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
  67. CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
  68. CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
  69. CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
  70. CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
  71. CHAPTER SEVENTY
  72. EPILOGUE
  73. AUTHOR’S NOTE

Standing concealed in the shadows, Bastet pulled a slender cell phone from her pocket and hit a speed dial. Her call was answered on the first ring. “Dee failed,” she said shortly, and ended the call.

CHAPTER FORTY

CHAPTER FORTY

Sophie woke up as the taxi rumbled over a speed bump. She was completely disoriented, and it took a long moment for what she first thought were fragments of dreams, and then realized were memories, to fade. She could still hear Cernunnos screaming in her head and, for a moment, actually felt sorry for the creature. Rising slowly and stiffly to a sitting position, she looked around. Josh lay slumped in the seat beside her, breathing heavily, face blackened and swollen where he’d been struck with sparks. The Alchemyst sat in shadow up against the window, staring out into the night. Hearing her move, he turned his head, his weary eyes catching reflections from the city lights.

“I was hoping you would sleep a little longer,” he said quietly.

“Where are we?” she asked thickly. Her mouth and lips were dry, and she imagined she could feel the gritty dust of the Wild Hunt on her tongue.

Flamel handed her a bottle of water. “We’re on Millbank.” He gently tapped the window with his finger and she looked out. “We’ve just driven past the Houses of Parliament.”

Through the rear window, Sophie caught a glimpse of the spectacularly lit English parliament building. The lighting gave it a warm, almost otherworldly appearance.

“How are you feeling?” Nicholas asked.

“Exhausted,” she admitted.

“I’m not surprised after what you’ve just done. You do know that what you did today is unique in human history: you defeated an Archon.”

She swallowed more water. “Did I kill it?”

“No,” Flamel said, and Sophie found she was secretly relieved. “Though I daresay you could if you were fully trained…” The Alchemyst paused for a moment, then added, “Once you’re trained, I don’t think there is anything you-or your brother-could not do.”

“Nicholas,” Sophie said, suddenly sad, “I don’t want to be trained. I just want to go home. I’m sick of all this, the running and fighting. I’m sick of feeling ill, of the constant headaches, the pains in my eyes and ears, the knot in my stomach.” She realized she was on the verge of tears, and rubbed her face with her hands. She wasn’t going to cry now. “When can we go home?”

There was a long silence, and when Flamel finally answered, his accent had thickened, his French ancestry clearly audible. “I am hoping I can take you back to America soon-perhaps even tomorrow. But you cannot go back home. Not just yet.”