The Enchantress (The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel)

fine.” He scooped up his fallen short sword.
    “No chance of that.” Prometheus grinned. “Let’s get back down the bridge. I’ve got all the cars in place. We can’t let any of the Spartoi slip through.”
    Niten limped after the Elder. “Thank you,” he said. “You saved my life.”
    “And before this night is out, I have no doubt you will save mine.” Prometheus smiled again.
    “I thought you weren’t a warrior,” Niten said.
    “I’m not,” Prometheus answered. “But I’ve fought my share of battles.”
    “I think I killed one,” Niten murmured. “And the first car you threw got two more.”
    “Are they dead?”
    “Not sure. But a car did fall on them. The VW took out another two, and I busted another one’s toes. That’s if they have toes,” he added.
    “The two I got with the VW—did you see them get up?” Prometheus asked.
    “I saw the car hit them—you wouldn’t think a crocodile’s face could show surprise, but you’d be wrong! They went down under it, but they were swallowed up by the fog. They’re probably dead,” he said.
    At that moment, the distinctive hood of the VW spun out of the fog like a lethal Frisbee.
    Niten’s short sword flashed up and sliced through the thin metal as if it were made of tinfoil, and the hood spun away in two pieces—one to the left and one to the right. “Maybe they’re not dead,” he muttered.
    Prometheus had constructed a deep V of cars across the bridge. The cars had been turned on their sides and were piled two high, with the wheels facing inward. At the bottom of the V was an opening just wide enough for one man.
    “This is perfect,” Niten said, admiring the work.
    “It was your idea.”
    The Japanese immortal ignored the compliment. “We can hold them here,” he said. “They shall not pass. Oh, and remember what I said about not using your red armor.”
    Prometheus nodded.
    Niten eyed his friend and changed his mind. “Forget that. Use the armor. They know we’re here, and they’re fast, very, very fast. We’re going to need every advantage we can find.”
    There was the hint of anise and the Elder flickered into brutish red armor. He glanced at Niten. “Are you not going to change?”
    Niten shook his head. “The effort of healing took a lot of my energy. I need some time to recharge.” He spun his sword and the Spartoi’s club in his hands.
    “Let me take the first watch, then,” Prometheus said. He positioned himself in the center of the opening and worked his head from side to side, easing stiffened muscles. “Rest awhile. Heal if you can.”
    “They’re not going to let us rest,” Niten said grimly. Even as he was speaking, there was a flicker of movement in the air and the fog swirled. “Here they come.”
    Six creatures raced down the narrowing tunnel. They were almost identical in appearance, and while most carried the clubs, two had short stabbing swords. All were carrying shields.
    “They look unhappy,” Prometheus murmured.
    “They’re not used to losing,” Niten said, peering over the Elder’s shoulder. “It will anger them, but an angry enemy makes mistakes.”
    The car-lined path was wide enough for four Spartoi, then three, and then only two. Finally, just one creature faced off against the Elder. It lunged at him with its club while the five behind it jostled, pushing forward, trying to get closer.
    Prometheus’s huge sword smashed into the Drakon warrior, crushing its shield to a twisted ruin. Its spiked club screamed as it ran along the length of the Elder’s sword, and Prometheus lashed out with his metal-clad foot, stamping down hard on the creature’s bare toes.
    The Spartoi hissed, golden eyes bulging in shock, and Prometheus stepped forward, reversed the sword and brought the heavy pommel down hard on its head. It slumped back on top of the others, blocking them. The other creatures clawed at it, dragging it out of the way, allowing another to push through.
    “You will pay for that . . .,” the Spartoi began, and then Prometheus’s metal-gloved hand shot out, grabbed it by the snout and rapped it over the skull with the pommel of his sword. He flung the lizard back into its companions and all six went sprawling. “This isn’t too bad,” the Elder laughed. “I’m starting to enjoy myself.”
    The foggy air curled and suddenly four spears arced out of the night. Prometheus’s huge sword flashed and twisted. He managed to chop two of the wickedly barbed spears out of