Immortal Muse Read Online Free PDF Page A

nodded, finally, and gave the piece back to her. She quickly slipped the chain back on, tucking the pendant under her blouse again. “It’s exquisite work,” he said. “I think I can see a resemblance to you: in her nose and the shape of her chin. The color of the hair’s about right, too—too red to be brown, too dark to really be just red.”
    â€œOther people have suggested that,” she told him. “Look, David, I . . . I have to think about all this a little more. I’m sorry.”
    â€œDon’t be,” he told her. “We don’t have to push anything or rush. Take your time. If you want, I could send you my standard model release, so you could look it over . . .”
    She was already shaking her head. “I don’t need the release.”
    â€œThen you’ve already decided?” The disappointment in his voice was palpable.
    â€œNo. If I trust you enough to model for you, then I’ll trust you enough that I won’t need a sheet of paper to protect me. Would you . . .” She looked away for a moment.
If you do this, then you’re taking the first step toward more. You know it. You won’t be able to stop, not if he’s anything like you suspect him to be.
“Would you like to swing by the
Bent Calliope
again on Friday, maybe around 9:00 or so? You wanted to meet the Calliope Group, right? Well, I can introduce you; you might like them, and we can talk some more.”
    He was already nodding before she’d finished. “Sure. On Friday. I’ll call you if anything changes.”
    They’d reached the corner of Delancey Street, loud with the hush of taxi and car tires on asphalt, the air scented with exhaust. New York was like all large cities she’d been in recently: full of movement and sound, and fragrant with the aromas of people and ambition. “Okay, then. I’m going this way.” She pointed westward. “It was good talking to you. I’ll think about this, and maybe I’ll have an answer next Friday.”
    She was already feeling awkward. Had he been anyone else, any other of her friends, she would have hugged him and maybe kissed him; but he wasn’t, and to do anything else seemed wrong. She smiled at him instead. “Next Friday,” she said before he could say anything else. Then she turned and began to walk away from him, glancing back once to see him still standing at the corner watching her. The yearning hunger surged inside her, and she forced it back down.
    Not yet. Maybe never. It’s too dangerous right now.
    But she already knew.

INTERLUDE ONE

Perenelle & Nicolas Flamel
    1352 – 1370

Perenelle Flamel
1352
    P ERENELLE HAD EXPECTED to be happy with her second marriage. She’d hoped for a wonderful new start to her life.
    Life, it seemed, intended to disappoint her.
    Rue des Saints Innocents was a noisy chaos as Perenelle approached the market square. The shop ledges were down in all the windows along the avenue as curious passers-by examined the proffered wares; the banners above the market stalls fluttered in the desultory (and sadly fragrant) breeze off the Seine. Ahead of Perenelle, a crowd gathered around a young man with a dancing bear. The man looked handsome enough in his scarlet tights and broadcloth tunic, a battered viol propped up in a case at his feet. The bear appeared to be ancient and arthritic, its muzzle silvered with gray. The creature snarled as its owner struck it on the snout with the viol’s bow, and Perenelle saw that the beast was missing most of its teeth. The poor creature’s coat was scabrous; islands of scaly patchescreated a painful map on its flanks and the creature’s fur was gone entirely under the spiked and thick leather collar. Flies seethed around the open sores. The bear’s claws were brown and cracked, dulled from scrabbling on the cobbled streets. Still, children screamed and ran when