The Alchemyst Read Free Page A

yellow smoke curled out into the street and the air was filled with the stench of rotten eggs. Sophie caught another smell too, the sharper, cleaner smell of peppermint.
    The older woman’s lips moved, and she whispered, “Oh no…not now…not here.”
    “Mrs. Fleming…Perry?”
    The woman rounded on Sophie. Her eyes were wild and terrified and her usually faultless English now held a hint of a foreign accent. “Stay here; whatever happens, stay here and stay down.”
    Sophie was opening her mouth to ask a question when she felt her ears pop. She swallowed hard…and then the door to the bookshop crashed open and one of the big men Sophie had seen earlier was flung out onto the street. Now he was missing his hat and glasses, and Sophie caught a glimpse of his dead-looking skin and his marble black eyes. He crouched in the middle of the street for a moment, then he raised his hand to shield his face from the sunlight.
    And Sophie felt something cold and solid settle into the pit of her stomach.
    The skin on the man’s hand was moving. It was slowly flowing, shifting viscously down into his sleeve: it looked as if his fingers were melting. A glob of what appeared to be gray mud spattered onto the street.
    “Golems,” Perry gasped. “My God, he’s created Golems.”
    “Gollums?” Sophie asked, her mouth thick and dry, her tongue suddenly feeling far too large for her mouth. “Gollum, from Lord of the Rings?”
    Perry was moving toward the door. “No: Golems,” she said absently, “Men of Clay.”
    The name meant nothing to Sophie, but she watched with a mixture of horror and confusion as the creature—the Golem—on the street crawled out of the sun and under the cover of the awning. Like a huge slug, he left a wet muddy trail behind him, which immediately dried in the fierce sunlight. Sophie caught another glimpse of his face before he staggered into the bookshop. His features had flowed like melted wax and a fine web of cracks covered the skin. It reminded her of the floor of a desert.
    Perry dashed out into the street. Sophie watched as the woman pulled her hair free of its intricate braid and shook it loose. But instead of lying flat against her back, her hair flowed out about her, as if it were blown in a gentle breeze. Only there was no breeze.
    Sophie hesitated a moment; then, grabbing a broom, she dashed across the road after Perry. Josh was in the bookstore!
             
    The bookshop was in chaos.
    The once-neat shelves and carefully stacked tables were scattered and tossed about the room in heaps. Bookcases were shattered, shelves snapped in half, ornate prints and maps lay crushed on the floor. The stench of rot and decay hung about the room: pulped paper and wood turned dry and rotting, even the ceiling was scored and torn, plaster shredded to reveal the wooden joists and dangling electrical wires.
    The small gray man stood in the center of the floor. He was fastidiously brushing dust off the sleeve of his coat while two of his Golems explored the cellar. The third Golem, damaged and stiff from exposure to the sun, leaned awkwardly against a crushed bookcase. Flakes of gray mudlike skin were spiraling off what remained of his hands.
    The gray man turned as Perry, followed by Sophie, dashed into the bookshop. He gave a neat little bow. “Ah, Madame Perenelle. I was wondering where you were.”
    “Where is Nicholas?” Perry demanded. She pronounced the name “Nicola.” Sophie saw a static charge ripple down the woman’s hair, blue and white sparks crackling.
    “Downstairs, I believe. My creatures are looking for him.”
    Clutching the broom tightly in both hands, Sophie slipped past Perry and crept around to the other side of the room. Josh. Where was Josh? She had no idea what was happening and didn’t care. She just needed to find her brother.
    “You are looking as lovely as ever,” the gray man said, eyes fixed on Perry. “You haven’t aged a day.” He bowed again, an