The Enchantress (The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel)

was close enough to her now that his own aura, a deep reddish purple, had begun to rise in a thin mist off his flesh. The air smelled of red pepper, and the sphinx sneezed. Billy tilted his head to one side and smiled. “Remember me?”
    “Oh good,” she answered. “My first course is already seasoned.” She leapt into the air, claws extended.
    Billy’s hands moved.
    Two ancient leaf-shaped spearheads were tucked into his belt on the left and right, just above his hips. In one fluid movement, he scooped them out and flung them through the air.
    The sphinx screamed a defiant laugh that rose to a screeching wail.
    And then the spears struck her.
    And time slowed.
    And stopped.
    The sphinx hung suspended in the air. The spearheads had penetrated deep into the lion’s skin. They pulsed, once, twice and then again, throbbing blue, then red and finally white-hot.
    Directly around each wound the sphinx’s flesh changed color, darkening to a deep blue, then paling to white and turning transparent. The transformation flowed through the creature, racing across her body, flesh turning to glass, revealing the bones beneath the skin. The sphinx managed a single gasped breath, but the skin on her face had begun to turn to glass, revealing the white bone skull beneath. Gradually the skull and all the bones in the glass sphinx transformed from bone to crystal.
    And then the sphinx fell and shattered to a million pieces on the floor.
    Billy the Kid bent and carefully plucked the two leaf-shaped blades from the shards of glass on the ground. He spun them on his fingers and stuck them back in his belt. He turned and winked at Mars, Odin and Hel. “Some things you just don’t forget.” He grinned.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
    THE FLAT-TOPPED STEPPED pyramid was enormous.
    It sat in the precise center of the island of Danu Talis, surrounded by a vast golden plane, which was in turn encircled by a ring of water. Canals radiated from the circle like spokes on a wheel.
    “The Pyramid of the Sun,” Osiris said. “The heart of Danu Talis.” He banked the vimana so the twins could look out over the extraordinary building.
    Josh tried to gauge its size. “What is it—ten blocks, twelve?”
    “Remember when we took you to see the Great Pyramid at Giza?” Isis asked.
    The twins nodded.
    Isis turned to look out the vimana’s porthole, admiring the massive structure. “That is a puny seven hundred and fifty-six feet long. The Pyramid of the Sun is ten times that length.”
    Josh frowned, trying to do the calculation, converting feet into miles. “Nearly one and a half miles,” Sophie said with a smile, putting him out of his misery.
    “And it rises almost a mile high,” Isis continued.
    “Who built it?” Josh asked. “You?”
    “No,” Osiris said. “Those who came before us, the Great Elders, raised the island from the seabed and created the first pyramid. The original was bigger. Much of the rest of the island is of our creation, though.”
    Sophie, who was sitting behind Osiris, leaned forward. “So just how old are you, really?”
    “That’s hard to tell,” Osiris said. “We have wandered the Shadowrealms for thousands of years; time flows differently here. We’ve lived here for millennia and of course, we spent fifteen years on earth, raising you.”
    “So when you said you were going off on digs, you were really slipping off to some Shadowrealm?” Josh asked.
    “Sometimes,” Isis said. “Not always. Sometimes we really did go on digs. History is our passion.”
    “And Aunt Agnes—Tsagaglalal—you knew who she was?” Sophie asked.
    Josh looked at his sister. “Aunt Agnes?” he mouthed.
    The couple’s laughs were identical. “Of course we knew,” Isis said. “Did you think we would abandon you to some perfect stranger? We’ve always been aware of She Who Watches. She moves in and out of human history, but only as a neutral observer. She never takes sides. When she offered to care for you, we were quite surprised. And she was the perfect choice: neither Elder nor Next Generation. And not really humani, either.”
    “Aunt Agnes?” Josh mouthed again, looking at Sophie.
    She shook her head at her twin. “Later,” she mouthed.
    The vimana curled away from the pyramid, banked sharply and flew low over an enormous blocky building that lay in the shadow of the pyramid. The roof was laid out in a spectacular garden with seven distinct circles, each one bright with flowers. At the edge of the roof, vines