The Necromancer by Michael Scott Page A

hated—absolutely hated—when adults dismissed her.
    Aoife looked at her in surprise, but before she could reply, Niten stepped up to the edge of the houseboat and looked from the Alchemyst to the Sorceress. “Give me your word that this is not a trick.”
    “I give you my word,” Nicholas said.
    “And I,” Perenelle added.
    Niten’s arms moved and the swords disappeared into matched sheaths he wore strapped to his hip. “Come aboard,” he said. “Enter freely and of your own will.”
    “Hey …,” Aoife began.
    “This is my boat,” Niten reminded her, “and the Flamels may be many things, but I believe that they have always kept their word.”
    “Tell that to the generations of people they betrayed and destroyed,” Aoife muttered, but she stepped back and allowed Nicholas, Perenelle and Josh onto the boat.
    “You need to learn how to trust a little more,” the Swordsman said to Aoife.
    “And you need to learn to trust the right people,” she snapped. “And these are not the right people.”
    “Your sister likes and trusts them.”
    Aoife sneered. “I am not my sister.”

Secrets of the Immortal 4 - The Necromancer

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
    “N
    
    
    
one of these things are of any concern to me,” Aoife said finally. Nicholas and Perenelle had just spent thirty minutes explaining the events of the past few days, adding details that Sophie had forgotten or skipped over.
    Niten had set up a wooden crate on the center of the deck and arranged an assortment of mismatched chairs around it. He’d placed a delicately beautiful, almost transparent white china teapot and matching cups on the crate and poured fragrant olive green tea. The Swordsman had not sat, however; he had stood behind Aoife, arms hanging loosely at his sides as Nicholas and Perenelle told their story, starting with the theft of the Codex from the bookshop the previous Thursday.
    Aoife shook her head. “I just want my sister back safely.”
    “We all want that,” Nicholas said firmly. “Scathach is precious to us, too.” He reached for his wife’s hand. “She is the daughter we never had.” He drew in a deep shuddering breath. “But Scathach’s return—Joan’s, too—is not our immediate priority. The Dark Elders have gathered together an army in the cells on Alcatraz. They plan to release them on the city.”
    “So?” Aoife asked.
    Perenelle leaned forward and a static charge rippled down the length of her silver-streaked hair, raising it off her back. When she spoke, her words were as brittle as the look in her eyes. “Are you so divorced from humanity that you would condemn them to annihilation? You know what will happen to civilization if these monsters are allowed to prowl the city.”
    “It has happened before,” Aoife snapped. Tendrils of faint gray smoke leaked from her nostrils. “On at least four previous occasions that I know of, the humani were almost wiped out, but they rose to repopulate the earth. You are old, Sorceress, but you have experienced only a fraction of what I have endured upon this earth. I have watched civilizations rise and fall and rise again. Sometimes it is necessary to wipe the slate clean and start fresh.” She spread her arms wide. “Look at what this present batch of humani have done to the earth. Look at what their greed has wrought. They have brought this planet to the very brink of destruction. The polar caps are melting, sea levels are rising, weather patterns are changing, seasons altering, farmlands turning to desert …”
    “You sound like Dee,” Josh said suddenly.
    “Don’t you dare compare me to the English Magician,” Aoife spat. “He is despicable.”
    “He said the Dark Elders could repair all this damage. Could they?” Josh asked curiously.
    “Yes,” Aoife answered simply. “Yes, they could. Tell him,” she said to the Alchemyst.
    Josh turned to look at Nicholas. “Is it true?”
    “Yes,” the Alchemyst sighed. “Yes, they undoubtedly could.”
    Sophie