The Enchantress (The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel)

But the metal turned to dust beneath his fingers, and then, abruptly, all the metal on his uniform, the buckles and hooks, the knife in his belt, was flaking, crumbling to dust and blowing away. Finally, his metal boots crumbled to dust around his feet.
    The Asterion’s battle formation began to fall apart as their weapons, armor and finally, their clothing, cracked, snapped and dried to dribbling dust.
    Someone in the crowd started to laugh. And then a second, and a third. A wave of laughter ran around the market square, growing and swelling into a roar of derision.
    “Not quite the bully now without the leather and metal, are you?”
    The anpu looked at the humani, unsure whether to attack or flee. There had been rumors in the barracks about a humani who’d crossed the canals, leaving at least two troops of anpu unconscious on the stones. He hadn’t believed the stories, of course. They were patently ridiculous.
    “Tell your masters we’re coming,” the humani said. Her right hand spread out to encompass the crowd. “All of us.”
    The anpu, his clothing in shreds, turned and fled, followed by the Asterion. The wave of mocking, jeering laugher went on for a very long time.
    The people crowded in around Virginia and Dee, roaring their delight. “See,” Virginia laughed, “that is how you get the people on your side. You just make them laugh at the enemy. And we didn’t have to kill anyone.”
    “What about the statue?”
    “Oh, he’s not dead. It’ll wear off soon enough. Now let’s go talk to these people about freedom.” She climbed onto a fruit stall and reached out to help Dee stand beside her.
    “So having the argument with me was just a ruse to draw attention to us?” he asked. “It was a trick?”
    Virginia said nothing.
    “Wasn’t it?”
    The American immortal looked out over a sea of faces and spread her arms. Her mane of jet-black hair rose behind her like wings. The crowd rippled with murmurs and then fell into awed silence.
    “What do you know about me?” she asked Dee quietly. “Besides the fact that I killed my Elder Master?”
    He thought for a moment. “Nothing,” he admitted.
    “And how long have we known one another?”
    “A long time,” he said. “Four hundred years, perhaps more.”
    Virginia looked at him and said nothing.
    Dee shrugged. “You’re right. I should have asked. What can I say, I was selfish. But that was a different person in a different time. People can change. I’ve changed,” he said quickly. “I’m no longer immortal, for a start; that gives me a different perspective.”
    “Humans of Danu Talis,” Virginia said loudly, her voice echoing across the still square. “I am Virginia Dare. . . .”
    “Virginiadare . . . Virginiadare . . . Virginiadare . . .” The crowd murmured her name as one word.
    “And this is John Dee . . .”
    “Johndee . . . Johndee . . . Johndee . . .”
    “And we have come to set you free!”
    The crowd howled, a long bellowing roar like the crash of a breaker on the shore.
    “Cookie-dough ice cream,” she said suddenly, raising her voice above the shouts, “makes me break out in a rash.”
    “Oh good.”
    “Good?”
    “It’s my favorite. It means all the more for me.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
    WITH THE DESTRUCTION of the sphinx, all the monsters gathered on Alcatraz had suddenly become aware that they were not alone on the island. Most had turned on one another behind the metal bars of the prison cells, and the stone walls echoed with screams and howls. A new smell filled the air: the rich copper of blood.
    Black Hawk led Billy and Machiavelli down a long cell-lined corridor called Michigan Avenue. Odin helped the injured Hel and Mars bring up the rear, protecting them from the creatures that darted from darkened corners.
    Billy the Kid laughed. “They’re so busy eating one another, they couldn’t care less about us.”
    “No,” Hel whispered, licking her lips. “Many of these creatures”—her whip sliced a trio of human-headed vampire bats out of the air—“many of these creatures are man hunters and blood drinkers. You three,” she said, jabbing the butt of the whip at Billy, Machiavelli and Black Hawk, “smell like a banquet to them. They will keep coming.”
    “Are you saying I smell?” Billy demanded.
    Hel’s nostrils flared as she breathed deeply. “Like roast chicken. With just a touch of rosemary.”
    “What about you?” Billy demanded, turning to look at the three