The Enchantress (The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel)

said, unable to conceal the twist of disgust that curled her lips. “We did not birth you.”
    The twins looked at one another. Although they had already guessed the answer, it was still a shock. “Good,” Josh said shakily. “I don’t think we want you as our parents.”
    Sophie’s face was a white mask, ghastly against her silver armor. Memories of the Witch’s search for the truth began to fall together.
    “And Sophie and I . . . are we related?” Josh asked the question he didn’t really want the answer to.
    Isis and Osiris remained silent, looking at them, eyes mocking.
    “Are we!” he shouted suddenly, and they both jumped.
    “Not by blood, no, but you are Gold and Silver,” Osiris said. “It is an ancient bloodline. There is a kinship there.”
    “Who are we?” Sophie screamed. She’d started to tremble, a combination of fear and anger and a feeling of terrible loss burning through her. She was unaware of the silver tears streaming down her face.
    Isis shrugged. “Oh, who knows?” she said casually. “We’ve hunted Gold and Silver across the centuries and through the Shadowrealms. We picked up Josh in a Neanderthal encampment more than thirty thousand years before we found you. We discovered you somewhere on the steppes of what would now be Russia in the middle of the tenth century . . . or was it the ninth?”
    “Tenth, I think,” Osiris said.
    “We kept you both safe, isolated and cocooned in a Shadowrealm where time does not run, and then, when all was in readiness, brought you out together into twentieth-century Earth.”
    Sophie felt as if she might faint, or collapse, at least, but Josh stepped over and caught her.
    “Why?” he whispered.
    “You were Gold and Silver,” Osiris said lightly. “The purest auras we had ever encountered in millennia of searching. We could not let you rot in some primitive hut.”
    “You kidnapped us,” he murmured.
    Isis and Osiris laughed. “Well, kidnapped is a bit harsh,” Osiris said. “Compared to what you would have had, we gave you a life of unimaginable luxury. In fact, we are more parents to you than your real parents would have been. Do you know the life expectancy for a newborn Neanderthal baby or a child on the frozen steppes of Russia? We may not be your birth parents, but we gave you life.”
    “And for that you owe us a debt of gratitude and respect,” Isis added.
    “We owe you nothing!” Sophie said.
    Almost directly below they could hear the clash of weapons, the howling of anpu and the hissing of cats.
    Trembling with rage and fear, sick to his stomach, with a stabbing headache almost blinding him, Josh turned his back on Isis and Osiris and walked to the edge of the roof. He couldn’t look at them anymore. His hands were opening and closing spasmodically as he tried to take in the terrible revelations.
    Directly below he saw Palamedes and William Shakespeare. The Bard’s hands were moving and he was conjuring serpents and lizards out of the air, laughing as he rained them down on the beasts gathered below, driving them back.
    Josh saw one anpu raise a long riflelike weapon and fire. Shakespeare fell without a sound, and the stinging lizards and coiling snakes instantly disappeared. The attackers surged forward, and a lion-headed eagle darted out of the throng to peck at the fallen immortal. Palamedes grabbed it, holding it at arm’s length; then he tossed it into the sea of beasts below. But the anpu closed in.
    Josh threw back his head and screamed his fear and frustration. He pressed his thumb into the palm of his hand, igniting the Fire magic Prometheus had taught him, and sent a blade of flame roaring down onto the steps. It foamed and splashed, washing away the monsters.
    He staggered to the right, where a grim-faced Saint-Germain was plucking fireballs from the air and tossing them into the midst of the savage monsters. The gold stone steps were melting.
    Hands still blazing, Josh looked down on Prometheus and Tsagaglalal: the Elder was standing tall and unmoving, hands outstretched, while cold white fire flowed down the steps like water.
    Josh finally made it over to the east side of the pyramid to Joan.
    Her torn armor was blazing like a silver torch, blinding the beasts that howled and snarled and gibbered in the gloom. She was surrounded on all sides by the jackal-headed anpu; some were creeping up behind her. Josh raised his hand, a spear of flame forming, but then he stopped—the creatures were too