The Enchantress (The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel)

renegade Elder and three of the most dangerous and deadly humani in the Shadowrealm.
    Quetzalcoatl’s hands clenched into tight fists, razor-sharp nails biting into the flesh of his palms, dripping thin blood onto the glass, keep the images alive. His dark eyes watched unblinkingly.
    . . . the Lotan turning to feed on the auras . . .
    . . . the creature rising from the water, balancing on its tail, all seven heads darting in to feed, mouths agape . . .
    . . . the flash of green fire and the overwhelming stink of mint.
    “No!” the Elder hissed as he watched the Lotan transform into a small blue-veined egg. He saw the egg drop into the Alchemyst’s outstretched hand. Flamel tossed it triumphantly in the air . . . and a circling seagull snatched it and swallowed it whole.
    “No! Nonononono . . .” Quetzalcoatl howled his rage, his face darkening, contorting into the flat serpent image that had terrified the Maya and the Aztec. Ragged teeth jutted from his mouth, his eyes narrowed and his dark hair stiffened in spikes about his face. He pounded on the table, the ancient wood cracking and only his lightning-fast reflexes saved the mirror from falling to the floor and shattering.
    As quickly as it had begun, the rage passed.
    Quetzalcoatl breathed deeply and ran a hand through his stiff hair, flattening it. All Billy and Machiavelli had to do was to release a few monsters into the city—three or four would have sufficed. Two would have been fine; even one, preferably something big with scales and teeth, would have been a start. But they’d failed, and they would pay for that failure later—if they survived!
    He needed to get the beasts off the island, but to do that he would have to keep the Flamels and their Elder and immortal friends busy.
    It was obviously time now for Quetzalcoatl to take matters into his own hands. A sudden smile revealed the Elder’s needlelike teeth. He had collected a few pets in his Shadowrealm—the humani would call them monsters—and he could allow them out to play. But no doubt the Alchemyst would deal with them in the same way he’d dealt with the Lotan. No, he needed something bigger, something much more dramatic than a few mangy monsters.
    Quetzalcoatl found his cell phone on the kitchen table. He dialed the Los Angeles number from memory. It rang fifteen times before it was answered with a snarling rasp. “Do you still have that bag of teeth I sold you millennia ago?” Quetzalcoatl started in. “I’d like to buy it back. Why? I want to use it to teach the Flamels a lesson . . . and of course keep them busy while I get our creatures off the island,” he added hastily. “How much for the bag? Free! Well, yes, of course you can watch. Meet me at Vista Point; I’ll make sure there are no humani around.”
    “Something wicked this way comes . . .,” Quetzalcoatl whispered. “Heading your way, Alchemyst. Heading your way.”

CHAPTER TWO
    SOPHIE NEWMAN OPENED her eyes. She was lying facedown on grass that was too green to be natural and had the texture of silk. Crushed beneath her face were flowers the likes of which had never grown on the earth, tiny creations of spun glass and hardened resin.
    She rolled over on her back and looked up . . . and then immediately squeezed her eyes shut again. A moment ago, she had been on Alcatraz in San Francisco Bay, the cool salt-scented air stinking with raw power and the zoolike odors of too many beasts crammed together. Now the air was clean and crisp, filled with exotic smells, and the sun was warm on her face, searing blinding afterimages on her retinas. She opened her eyes again and watched a shape move across the face of the sun. Squinting, she made out an oval of crystal and metal. “Oh!” she breathed, surprised, and reached over to nudge her twin. “You better wake up. . . .”
    Josh was lying on his back. He opened one eye and groaned as the sunlight hit his face, and then, when the realization of what he’d just seen sank in, he snapped awake and sat bolt upright. “That’s a . . .”
    “. . . a flying saucer,” Sophie finished.
    There was movement behind them and they both turned to see they were not alone on the grassy hillside. Dr. John Dee was on his hands and knees, staring wide-eyed into the sky, while Virginia Dare sat cross-legged beside him, jet-black hair rippling in the wind.
    “A vimana,” Dee breathed. “I never thought I’d see one in my lifetime.” He crouched on the