01_-_The_Alchemyst

Flamel and Scathach turning back to them.
The Warrior came hurrying over to them. “Dry your eyes,” she
commanded sternly. “Let’s not draw attention to ourselves.”
“Don’t talk to my sis—” Josh began, but Scatty silenced him with a
look.
“Let’s get you into my grandmother’s shop; she’ll be able to help. It’s
just across the road. Come on.”
Sophie obediently ran her sleeve across her eyes and followed the
Warrior. She felt so helpless. She rarely cried—she’d even laughed at the
ending of Titanic— so why was she crying now?
Awakening her magical potential had seemed like a wonderful idea.
She’d loved the thought of being able to control and shape her will, of
channeling her aura’s energy and working magic. But it hadn’t turned out like
that. It had left her feeling battered and exhausted from the stimulation. It had
left her in pain. That was why she was crying.
And she was terrified that the pain was not going to go away. And if it
didn’t, then what would she do—what could she do?
Sophie looked up to find her brother staring hard at her, eyes wide with
concern. “Flamel said the Witch will be able to help you,” he said.
“What if she can’t, Josh? What if she can’t?”
He had no answer to that.
Sophie and Josh crossed Ojai Avenue and stepped under the arched
promenade that ran the length of the block. The temperature immediately
dropped to a bearable level, and Sophie realized that her shirt was sticking
to the small of her back, ice cold against her spine.
They caught up with Nicholas Flamel, who had stopped in front of a
small antiques shop, a dismayed look on his face. The shop was closed.
Without saying a word, he tapped at the paper clock taped to the inside of the
door. The hands were set to two-thirty and a handwritten scrawl beneath it
said Gone to lunch, back at 2:30.