The Enchantress (The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel)

massive ball of clay. The effort had aged all of them, Nicholas and Perenelle especially. The Sorceress’s hair had turned almost completely white, and the veins across the backs of her hands were prominent.
    The three immortals standing around the sleeping Areop-Enap turned to look at Billy and he jerked his thumb toward the door. “The big crab is almost here. Black Hawk and I are going to step outside and see if we can delay it some. Give you folks more time to do what you have to do.” He lifted the two spearheads from his belt and placed them on top of the hardened mud. “I thought you might hold on to these for me just in case . . . well, just in case,” he finished.
    “Don’t go, Billy,” Machiavelli said quietly.
    The American shook his head. “We’ve got to. Black Hawk and I can stand in the door and wait for the monster to come right up and pluck us out, or we can go out and see if we can cause some mischief.”
    “You have no idea what else is out there,” Perenelle warned.
    “Not a lot is left, actually. Odin and Hel took care of most of the anpu, and the ugly unicorns they didn’t kill ran off into the night. Anything out there with an iota of sense is staying well away from us. Except for the big crab and Quetzalcoatl’s skeleton brother. He seems pretty riled up.” He rapped the hardened mud with his knuckles. “How are you getting on with Old Spider?”
    “We’re working on it,” Machiavelli said.
    “People usually say that to me when nothing’s working,” Billy said.
    Perenelle smiled. “Good luck, Billy.”
    “Don’t do anything stupid,” Machiavelli advised.
    Billy tossed them a quick salute and hurried back over to the door. “I’ve been thinking . . .,” he said to Black Hawk, “what we really need is some rope to make a lasso.”
    Black Hawk held up his tomahawk. Its long shaft was wrapped in strips of sweat-stained leather. Half of the leather had been peeled off to expose the white wood beneath. “Start tying these together,” he said, unraveling what was left and handing Billy a dozen long strips of brown leather.
    “You’re always prepared. You should have been a Boy Scout,” Billy muttered.
    “I was a Scout Master for a while. Had one of the best troops in the West.”
    “You never told me,” Billy said, quickly knotting the leather pieces together.
    “You never asked.”
    “I think I’d have made a great Boy Scout.”
    “I think you would too.” Black Hawk peeled off the last leather strip and handed it to Billy. The outlaw added it to the end of the knotted leather rope, then expertly twisted the rope into a lasso.
    “Just like old times.” Billy grinned.
    “This is nothing like old times,” Black Hawk said. He spun the tomahawk in his hand. “When was the last time we went hunting crab?”
    Perenelle, Nicholas and Machiavelli watched the two Americans slip out into the night. They all knew that the chances of seeing either of them alive again were slim. Perenelle turned back to the mud ball and went to lift the two spearheads Billy had left behind.
    The leaf-shaped blades had sunk into the mud.
    Perenelle picked one up and pressed a fingertip to the blade. She expected to find it sizzling hot, but it was cool to the touch. “Nicholas,” she breathed.
    The Alchemyst snatched up the other spearhead and plunged it deep into the hardened mud. It penetrated easily. Then, gripping it in both hands, he dragged it up across and down again in a long rectangle. Perenelle dug her fingers into the edge of the hardened mud and pulled the giant piece out of the ball. It crashed to the floor and broke in half.
    Machiavelli grabbed the second spearhead and began to cut another hole in the hardened mud. “Get Billy and Black Hawk back in here,” he called to Mars. “We need their spearheads.”
    “Too late,” the big Elder said. “They’ve gone hunting the Karkinos.”

CHAPTER SEVENTY
    SOPHIE AND JOSH scrambled after Tsagaglalal up the steps of the Pyramid of the Sun.
    And the monsters raced after them.
    The dog-footed anpu scampered easily up the side of the pyramid, but the bulls, bears and boars moved more slowly, finding it difficult to mount the high narrow steps—they were so steep it was almost like climbing a ladder. Hissing and spitting cat-headed hybrids scurried on all fours, bouncing from step to step. They would be the first to reach the twins.
    Arrows started to fall on the stones, and a tonbogiri ball screamed off the step by