The Enchantress (The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel)

continued, “and no one knows the extent of her powers.”
    “She is an old woman,” Niten said, shaking his head.
    “Tsagaglalal is many things,” Perenelle said, “but it would be a mistake to think that she is just an old woman.”
    “If you have contacts, then call them,” Niten said decisively. “Get them all here.” He turned to the Elder. “Prometheus, you are a Master of Fire. Could you rain fire onto the island?”
    The big Elder shook his head sadly. “I could, but it would be a thin rain, and would utterly destroy me. I am old, Niten, and I am dying. My Shadowrealm is lost and I have little aura left . . . enough perhaps for one final blaze of glory.” He bared his teeth in a grim smile. “And I want to save that until the very end.”
    The Japanese immortal nodded. “That I understand.”
    “So we focus our efforts on the island,” Nicholas announced. “But before we do that, we need to know what’s going on over there.”
    “We could try scrying,” Perenelle suggested.
    Nicholas shook his head. “Too limiting and too time-consuming. We would only be able to see whatever was reflected in glass or pools of water. We need a bigger picture.” He stopped suddenly and grinned. “Do you remember Pedro?” he asked.
    Perenelle looked blankly at him, and then her face lit up with a smile. “Pedro. Of course I remember Pedro.”
    “Who is Pedro?” Niten asked.
    “Was. Pedro is no more. Gone almost a hundred years,” Perenelle said.
    “King Pedro of Brazil?” Prometheus asked. “Pedro of Portugal? The explorer, the inventor?”
    “The parrot,” Perenelle said, “named in honor of our great friend, Periquillo Sarniento. For decades we had a Timor Sulphur Crested Cockatoo. I say ‘we,’ though in truth, he was bonded to Nicholas and only tolerated me. We found him as an abandoned chick when we were searching the ruins of Nan Madol in the eighteen hundreds. He was with us for almost eighty years.”
    Prometheus shook his head. “I really do not see—” he began.
    “Parrots are the most remarkable birds,” Nicholas continued, ignoring him. He stretched out his left arm and the merest hint of mint touched the salt air. His lips moved, his breath hissing softly between them. There was a sudden flutter of wings and a spectacular red-headed green-bodied parrot settled onto his outstretched hand. It tilted its head to one side, and a large silver and gold eye regarded him quizzically; then it slowly began to sidle up his arm. The Alchemyst ran the back of his finger down its breast. “Parrots are extraordinarily intelligent. And their eyesight is marvelous. There are some species whose eyes weigh more than their brains. They can see into the infrared and ultraviolet spectra; they can even see waves of light.”
    “Alchemyst . . .,” Prometheus said.
    Nicholas focused on the parrot, blowing gently across its iridescent plumage. The parrot rubbed the top of its head across Flamel’s forehead and started to groom his bushy eyebrows.
    “Alchemyst,” Prometheus repeated, a note of irritation in his voice.
    “John Dee and his kind use rats and mice as eyes to spy for them,” Perenelle explained. “But over the years, Nicholas learned to see through Pedro’s eyes. It’s a simple transference process. You wrap the creature in your aura and then gently direct it.”
    “Pedro saved our lives on more than one occasion,” Nicholas said quietly. “It got so that he would scream at even the hint of Dee’s sulfur stench.” He brought his face close to the Cherry-Headed Conure and it ran its beak back and forth across his forehead, now grooming his close-cropped hair. “Prometheus, would you hold on to me now?” he continued. “I’m going to get a little dizzy.”
    “Why?” Niten asked, puzzled.
    “I’m going flying,” the Alchemyst whispered. He cocked his head and the parrot mimicked the movement. For an instant, they were eye to eye. The salt air turned sharp with mint and the conure shivered. As he stroked the bird, Flamel’s fingers left shimmering trails of green that were almost invisible against the parrot’s feathers. Nicholas closed his eyes . . . and the parrot’s yellow eyes turned pale, almost colorless.
    Then, with a sudden flapping of wings, the bird took to the air, and Prometheus caught the Alchemyst as he slumped to the ground.

CHAPTER SIX
    “ARE YOU REALLY our parents?” Sophie asked.
    “What a question!” Isis snapped.
    Sophie and Josh