The Enchantress (The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel)

differently.”
    “Honestly, you mean?”
    “We were always honest with him,” the Elder said sincerely. “He was rarely as honest with us; you must know that.”
    “Why do you need the twins?”
    Osiris brought his burnt hand to his lips and licked at the wound. Brilliant blue eyes regarded her evenly. Then he suddenly grinned. “I could tell you, but then I would have to kill you,” he said.
    “If you don’t tell me, I might kill you.” Virginia matched his smile once again.
    “You could try.”
    “I could. But you really don’t want me to,” Virginia said.
    Sophie’s and Josh’s voices suddenly echoed through the house, and Osiris and Virginia turned toward the sound. The voices grew louder as the twins approached.
    “Here’s what I think,” Virginia said quietly. “You need their auras. You need the power of Gold and Silver for something. Something spectacular. Am I right?”
    “You are not wrong,” Osiris conceded.
    “There’s only one thing troubling me,” she said.
    Osiris’s face remained expressionless as he continued to lick his hand.
    “Are you really their parents?”
    “They are our children,” he said after considering his answer. “We have spent a lifetime preparing them for this.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
    QUETZALCOATL DETESTED THE damp. He was wearing a heavy wool three-piece suit he’d bought in London a century ago, and had wrapped himself in a three-quarter-length black leather coat with the high collar turned up. A patterned thermal scarf encircled his neck and covered the lower part of his mouth, and he wore a black fedora with a spray of feathers from his own tail in the band. His hands were sheathed in fur-lined gloves. Yet he was still freezing. He hated this Shadowrealm.
    The Feathered Serpent turned as an enormous black Cadillac with darkened windows pulled into the deserted parking lot at Vista Point Overlook. Its gleaming bodywork was speckled with millions of water droplets.
    Quetzalcoatl half raised his hand, then, realizing that he was probably invisible in the gloom and fog, self-consciously dropped it again. He was beginning to regret his earlier impulsive action. He had survived this long because he was a loner; he rarely mixed with his own kind. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d encountered someone from his very distant past. It was always easier to deal with the human servants; he could control them.
    A smartly suited driver wearing a peaked cap climbed out of the car. Quetzalcoatl thought there was something wrong with the way he—though it could just as easily have been a she—walked, and when the driver turned his head, the Elder thought he caught the glimpse of bulging solid black eyes. The driver removed his hat, revealing a bald head and overlong bat ears, before opening the rear door.
    A figure stepped out.
    She was tall and elegant, wrapped in a full-length fur coat made from the skins of animals that had not walked the earth in eons. And she had the head of a cat. This was Bastet.
    Quetzalcoatl watched the Elder stride across the parking lot toward him and felt an odd emotion, something he had not experienced in millennia: fear. His tail, which had been tucked into the back of his belt, slipped free, slithered out from beneath his coat and tapped nervously against the ground. Perhaps contacting the cat-headed goddess had been a mistake.
    “It has been a long time, Quetzalcoatl,” she said, speaking in the ancient language of Danu Talis.
    The Feathered Serpent lifted his fedora and bowed respectfully. “Too long.”
    Bastet tilted her feline head to one side, huge yellow slit-pupiled eyes regarding him. It was impossible to read her expression , but Quetzalcoatl got the impression she was amused.
    “Thank you for coming,” he said. “I was unsure that you would. . . .”
    “Oh, we Elders have to stick together,” Bastet said in her hissing lisp. “Especially now, in these interesting times.” Boot heels clicked on the pavement as she stepped forward, towering over the shorter Elder. “I was delighted to get your call. Surprised, I’ll admit. But delighted.”
    Quetzalcoatl wondered if the cat-headed Elder was being sarcastic; her coolness made it hard to tell. “I’ve been meaning to get in touch,” he murmured. “But you know how time slips away.”
    “We should get together more often: we’re practically neighbors,” she purred.
    He knew then that she
was
being sarcastic. She hated him for what had happened