The Enchantress (The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel)

city. I cannot sense them anywhere on the American continent.”
    “That is some consolation, at least.”
    “You know the Flamels must have sent for help. The longer we delay, the more time we allow for reinforcements to arrive.”
    “We have our kind coming too, haven’t we?”
    “Some. Even now, the monsters and the monstrous are gathering. But don’t you know that every immortal humani hero, every god of myth and legend loyal to the Flamels, or simply opposed to us, is heading this way?”
    “Then let us not delay. We must get the monsters ashore and get the party under way.”
    “The original plan was for Machiavelli and Billy to awaken the creatures and release them from their cells. Black Hawk was supposed to sail a modified tourist boat into the jetty, load up and bring the creatures back into the city. Then he would go back for more.”
    “But now this Black Hawk has vanished.”
    “Eaten by the Nereids, I fear.”
    “But you have a backup plan?”
    “Always.”
    “I thought you might.”
    “Even now, there is a modified tourist boat docked off the island. The captain is gathering the biggest, ugliest, hungriest, most terrifying monsters he can find. He will take them ashore and release them into the streets. Then he will go back for a second batch.”
    “And you can trust this captain?”
    “He is my brother.”
    “I never knew you had a brother.”
    “He left Danu Talis long before the fall. The Change was cruel to him. But when I needed someone to trust, I knew I could count on him. He was happy—even eager—to help me.” His teeth flashed in a nasty smile. “After all, if you can’t depend on your family, then who can you trust?”
    “Then why do you need me?” Bastet asked, ignoring the jibe. Her son Aten had betrayed her. “I am hearing a ‘but . . .,’ ” she prodded.
    “The Flamels and company will do all in their power to thwart us.”
    “So we need to eliminate the Flamels, Prometheus and Niten?”
    “Yes, and we only have a brief period of time in which to defeat them before their reinforcements arrive.”
    Bastet’s gaze narrowed on the Feathered Serpent. “And you’re sure they have no other allies in the city?”
    “Everyone else is on the island.” He grinned. “Hopefully, providing a tasty snack for something hideous.”
    Bastet rubbed her hands together. Her nails sparked off one another. “Simple, then. We divide their forces. We send in something to engage the warriors, Prometheus and Niten. Without them, Nicholas and Perenelle are little more than immortal humans who will age with every use of power. I know their auras are waning.”
    “What can we send? I have no resources left.”
    “Ah, but I have.” She reached into a pocket and produced a leather bag. It rattled as she shook it. “You remember these? Drakon’s teeth?”
    “The Spartoi,” he said.
    Bastet nodded. “Indestructible earth warriors.”
    “Perfect. Just perfect.” Quetzalcoatl checked his watch again, the luminous dial painting his face green. “In five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one.”
    The entire city went dark.
    Across the city, burglar alarms went off as their battery backups took over. In the all-enveloping fog, they sounded like mice squeaking.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
    “WHO ARE YOU?” Dr. John Dee wheezed. He was aware that he was lying on the metal floor of a vimana and that its vibration trembled through his entire body. With his faded eyesight, his surroundings were a blur, and the figure sitting at the controls before him was little more than a shadow.
    “I told you, I am called Marethyu.” A half circle of metal gleamed in the light before Dee’s face. “I am sometimes called the hook-handed man. Though it’s really more of a sickle than a hook.”
    The Magician found he was still wrapped in the sweatshirt Josh had put over him. He pulled it closer around his shrinking frame and attempted—but failed—to straighten up. “I feel I should know you,” he whispered.
    “You should. We’ve met often enough.”
    “We haven’t,” Dee disagreed. “I would never have forgotten the hook.”
    “I guess you wouldn’t,” Marethyu said enigmatically.
    “Young man,” Dee began, at which Marethyu burst into laughter. “What is so funny?”
    “It’s been a long time since anyone called me young.”
    “You look young enough to me. You sound young, and you’re strong enough to carry me. I am old; almost five hundred years. How long have