The Enchantress (The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel)

to hysterical. “I think I will dance them all right into the canal.”
    “Virginia,” Sophie snapped. “No!”
    With the flute still pressed to her lips, the immortal turned to look at the girl.
    “No!”
    “No? It’s what I usually do.”
    “It’s not necessary,” Sophie said. “Kill them and you become just like them. And you aren’t like them, are you?”
    “You have no idea what I am,” Virginia whispered, but she lifted her fingers off the flute.
    The anpu fell as if they had been struck, crashing to the bridge in a clatter of armor and metal. The huge leader’s metal hand scraped and twitched against the stones, scoring deep grooves in the soft rock, then stiffened and fell still.
    Virginia picked her way through the fallen anpu, taking care not to touch any of them. Sophie and Josh followed her example. Close up the creatures were terrifying. Their jet-black bodies were human, corded with muscle, but from the neck up, they had the pointy-eared heads of jackals. Their hands were human, though tipped with curved claws, and their feet were dogs’ paws. Some had bushy tails curling from the backs of their armor, and most had tiny green and gold scarabs or what looked like cowry shells woven into their fur.
    “This way, I believe,” Virginia said, pointing with her flute to an enormous circular building topped by a spire flying a narrow pennant with an eye on it. The flapping eye looked like it was winking. The outer windowless walls were sheeted in gold and decorated with constellations picked out in precious stones. The building was protected by a narrow moat filled with bubbling grass-green liquid, and a pair of enormous albino anpu carrying spears taller than they were stood on either side of the drawbridge.
    Virginia smiled at the creatures and twirled her flute, leaving a shimmering note hanging in the air. The creatures dropped their spears, lowered the bridge and then turned and scampered on all fours into a low hutch hidden in the undergrowth. Bloodred eyes regarded the immortal with something like awe as she passed by.
    “It is better to be feared than loved,” Virginia said lightly. “I believe Machiavelli said that.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
    “OH MAN, I am never—and I mean
never
—eating meat again.” Billy the Kid turned away from the sight of the wounded Hel ripping into the enormous boar’s carcass.
    “Humans were never meant to be vegetarian,” Hel bubbled, her face and fangs black with fluids.
    “You’re not human,” Billy said, still facing the other direction.
    “It is good for me. It will restore my aura. It will help me heal.” There was a snap like breaking wood, followed by a sucking sound.
    Billy looked up at Machiavelli. “Whatever you do, do not tell me what she’s doing right now.”
    The Italian immortal shook his head. “She has a healthy appetite, I’ll give her that,” he said, then added with a sly grin, “and the marrow is particularly nutritious!”
    Billy stepped away from the stink of the butchered hog and breathed great gulps of the cold night air. A thick fog had started to roll in, flowing over the prison walls like smoke, and the temperature was falling fast.
    “I did not think you would be so squeamish,” Machiavelli said, joining him. “I thought you were a great American hero, fearless and brave.”
    Billy rolled his eyes. “You’ve been watching too many of my movies. Always felt I should have earned royalties from them. Didn’t seem fair that they were using my name and not paying me.”
    “Billy, you’re supposed to be dead.”
    “I know.” Something liquid popped behind him and he jumped and pressed both hands to his mouth. “I’m not squeamish.” Billy’s every word plumed on the air like smoke. “I’ve hunted buffalo, butchered my share of steers, and killed chickens and hogs for the table. I’ve caught and gutted fish. But I liked to
cook
my meat before I eat it!” He glanced back over his shoulder to where Hel lay on the steps of the exercise yard feasting off the remains of the Hus Krommyon. Odin sat beside her, feeding her tidbits.
    Mars Ultor had taken up a position at the ruined doorway, driving away any creatures that came too close. From within the prison something that had never been human giggled with the voice of a little girl.
    Hel saw Billy looking, and her smile was appalling. She offered him something glistening wet. “I saved this for you. A special treat,” she lisped.
    “I’ll pass. Thanks.