The Enchantress (The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel)

our crocodile friends busy.” Niten’s teeth flashed in a smile. “I’ll try to leave a few for you.” He stepped away and faded into the night.
    “Be careful,” Prometheus called.
    A disembodied voice drifted out of the fog. “I was born for this. What’s the worst that could happen?”
    “You could be killed and eaten by the Spartoi.”
    “Doesn’t frighten me.”
    “It should,” Prometheus warned. “They won’t necessarily wait till you’re dead before they start to eat you.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
    SUDDENLY THE STILL night was broken by an odd barking—a sound that almost resembled coughing.
    “Dogs?” Perenelle answered.
    “Not dogs, seals,” Nicholas suggested.
    Abruptly, gulls wheeled overhead, ghost flashes in the fog, calling and cawing.
    “Something’s wrong. Gulls shouldn’t cry at night,” Nicholas said. Closing his eyes, he tilted his head back and breathed deeply. “Odd. I don’t smell anything new.”
    More barking—this time it
was
dogs. The sounds were muted by the thickening fog.
    “Oh no!” Nicholas suddenly reached out and caught Perenelle’s hand just as the pier started to roll and vibrate. The metal chairs they were sitting on trembled and rattled against the stones.
    “What was that?” Perenelle asked, when the rumbling vibration had finally subsided. “Elder? Archon?”
    “Earthquake,” Nicholas said, a little breathlessly. “Maybe a four on the Richter scale. And close, very, very close.”
    “Who do you think caused it?” Perenelle wondered. “If the Dark Elders can access that sort of power, then we’re in trouble. They can destroy this city without bringing a single creature ashore.” She frowned. “Why wouldn’t they have used it before this?”
    The Alchemyst shook his head. “It’s probably natural,” he said. “Remember what happened when you and Machiavelli fought on Mount Etna? I’m sure the earthquake has been triggered by all the raw energies concentrated in the city.” He rubbed his hands together and green sparks shimmered in the air. “Look at that. The air is alive with auras. We know Bastet is out there somewhere. Quetzalcoatl, too. Prometheus and Niten are on their way to face the Spartoi warriors—and I’m not sure if the Drakon have auras. Mars, Odin, Hel, Billy, Machiavelli—and maybe Black Hawk—are on the island.” He ran his hand across his head, rubbing his cropped hair as he thought. Static fizzled across his scalp, dripping sparks like fireworks onto his shoulders. “Another reason why the Elders never congregate in any great numbers in modern times.”
    Perenelle licked her lips and nodded. “I can taste the power on the air.”
    A ten-second shudder vibrated up through the streets. “Aftershock,” Nicholas breathed. “I would imagine the last time so many auras were gathered in such close proximity was on Danu Talis.”
    “If anyone does arrive to support us, then their auras, added to everything else here, might bring on an even bigger earthquake. We need to get over to the island and finish this.” She caught her husband’s hand and pulled him along the quayside, toward the water. “As soon as we start to use our auras,” she said, “we reveal our location to whoever—whatever—is out there. And we start to age. If anything delays us as we make our away across the bay, we run the risk of dying of old age before we reach it.”
    Perenelle and Nicholas ran past the Aquarium of the Bay. They could hear the water on their left, slapping against wooden pilings. They both knew there were scores of boats, invisible because of the fog, in the berths. They could hear hulls banging and scraping against the wood, stays pinging off metal. A mast loomed directly in front of them and they suddenly found themselves right at the edge of the pier. Fog curled off the water like steam.
    “Do you remember how to do this?” Nicholas asked with a cautious grin.
    “Of course.” Perenelle smiled. “It’s a simple transmutation spell. We used to do it for the . . .” The words died on her lips and her smile faded away.
    “We used to do it to amuse the children,” Nicholas finished. He wrapped his arms around his wife and held her close, her hair damp against his face. “We did what we believed was the right thing,” he said quickly, “and I will never accept that what we did was wrong.”
    “We protected the Book,” she murmured.
    For centuries, Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel had sought out the twins of