He’d found the rear door to the bookstore open.
Josh Newman shrugged off his backpack as he stepped into the gloomy hallway and then waited, allowing his eyes to adjust. The stink was incredible-a mixture of rot and mildew, a sickly mustiness overlain with the noxious stench of bad eggs. He tried to breathe only through his mouth. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on his hearing. Since Mars Ultor had Awakened him, he’d become extremely conscious of just how important the senses of hearing, taste and smell were. Modern humans tended to rely heavily on sight; Josh had come to realize that his Awakened senses were really the same heightened senses that primitive man had possessed and needed to survive.
But there were no sounds in the building: it even felt deserted.
Less than a week ago, he’d run up and down this corridor unloading a delivery of books from the back of a van. Now all the boxes he had so carefully piled on top of each other were black with mildew, the sides burst open, the books swollen like rotten fruit, almost unrecognizable.
Less than a week ago.
The realization suddenly brought home to Josh how much had changed in the past few days, how much he had discovered and how little he-and the rest of the world-knew about the truth.
Taking a deep breath, the fetid air catching at the back of his throat, Josh then opened his eyes and crept down the corridor, pushed open the door and stepped out into the bookshop.
And stopped in shock.
The shop was an unrecognizable ruin, lost beneath a thick layer of dust and furry mold-it was decaying right before his eyes. The sunlight shafting through the filthy streaked windows showed that the air was thick with drifting spores. Josh clamped his lips shut; he didn’t want to risk getting any of them in his mouth. He took a step forward and felt the creaking floorboards shift beneath his weight. A bubble of foul black liquid formed on the wood, and his foot began to sink. Jerking back, he pressed himself against the wall, only to discover that it too was slimy with decay. The plaster was so soft his fingers sank into it.
Looking around, Josh realized with horror that the shop was being eaten: this fungus was feeding off everything-wood, paper, carpet. What was the place going to look like in a couple of hours?
He’d come to the bookshop because Nicholas and Perenelle lived in the apartments above it, and he was hoping that they had returned there. Glancing upward, he noticed the gaping hole in the ceiling, the trailing wires and rotten joists. He suddenly wondered how long it would be before the supports gave way and the upper floors collapsed and then the rest of the building crashed into the cellar.
He edged his way along the wall toward the stairs. It stood to reason that the Flamels would have more than one address in the city. They must have set up places they could escape to if danger threatened. Josh hoped that he’d be able to find an address upstairs-a bill, a letter, something, anything to give him a hint of where they were. The banister shifted as he grabbed it-the wood had the consistency of jelly. He pulled his hand back in disgust and was about to rub it against his jeans when he stopped. If the filthy black mold was able to eat through wood, what would it do to his pants? The last thing he needed now was for his pants to rot off his legs. Could this eat through his flesh? he suddenly wondered with a shudder. The desire to turn and run was almost overwhelming, but he knew that his only chance of finding his sister lay with the Flamels, so he started up the stairs.
Each step moved beneath his weight. He was halfway up when his foot went all the way through a stair with a dull snap. He felt the entire staircase sway, and he realized that it was going to collapse. He launched himself up the rest of the way just as the staircase shuddered and collapsed, crashing into the shop below. Josh’s chest slammed onto the landing; his legs dangled in midair as his fingers scrambled to grab hold of the thick carpet covering the upper floor, but it ripped and shredded to threads in his grip. He attempted to scream but the sound got caught at the back of his throat. A chunk of carpet ripped away in his hand and he jerked backward…
Iron-hard fingers caught his wrists.
Josh was hauled up and found himself looking into Perenelle Flamel’s bright green eyes. “Josh Newman,” she murmured as she set him down gently on the landing. “We were not expecting you.”
Nicholas appeared out of a doorway and stopped beside his wife. “We were expecting… trouble,” he said quietly. “It’s good to see you.”
Josh rubbed his numb wrists. Perenelle’s strength was astonishing, and she’d almost wrenched his shoulders out of their sockets when she’d lifted him straight up in the air. He pressed his hands against his chest where it had hit the landing and took a deep breath. He was bruised, but he didn’t think he’d broken any ribs.
“What brings you here, Josh?” Perenelle said softly, her eyes searching his face. She answered her own question: “Sophie.”
“Sophie’s missing,” Josh said breathlessly. “She was kidnapped by a girl calling herself Aoife. She said she was Scathach’s sister,” he added. “She sure looked like her.” He saw their expressions change slightly, watched what he recognized as fear flicker in the Alchemyst’s eyes. “That’s not good, is it?”
Perenelle shook her head. “Not good at all.”