The Enchantress (The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel)

approached, the crowd moved closer, forming into two long lines at their sides.
    “These must be the Elders of Danu Talis,” Sophie murmured.
    None of the figures were entirely human, and most were half hidden by hooded leather cloaks or swaths of cloth. There were occasional glimpses of fur or leathery flesh, a ragged claw, an animal’s bloodshot eye or a horn. But there were a few who chose to proudly display the Changes that had overtaken them—the frightening alterations and bizarre additions to their bodies.
    “Don’t look now,” Josh said suddenly, “but there’s a woman on my side who’s got wings. And bird’s feet,” he added, in awe.
    “That’s Inanna.” Sophie turned to look, and then nodded. “Inanna. One of the most respected of the Elders. Powerful, deadly, but not an enemy of the humani. The Witch’s memories,” she told her brother quickly, before he could ask her how she knew.
    “So I guess you’ll know about everyone here. That could come in real handy.”
    “I’ll know most, I guess. I’ve been trying to push back the Witch’s thoughts—Joan of Arc showed me how. But sometimes bits and pieces trickle through, like names. Or I’ll remember the trivia that stuck in the Witch’s head.” She tilted her head slightly. “Inanna keeps lions, so she always smells like big cats, damp straw and dung. The Witch hated that smell. And she was allergic to cats—they made her sneeze.”
    Josh laughed out loud at the thought of the Witch of Endor being allergic to anything.
    “They make her break out in hives, too,” Sophie added with a grin, and then laughed with him.
    “Will all the Elders look like monsters?” Josh asked as they stepped out of the sunshine and into the shadow of the pyramid. The temperature immediately fell, and their clattering footsteps were dulled and absorbed by the enormous gold pyramid.
    Sophie nodded. “Mostly. There aren’t many Elders that the Change hasn’t . . . uh . . . changed in some way . . .,” she began, and then stopped, realizing what her brother was suggesting.
    Josh nodded at Isis and Osiris, who were up ahead, dwarfed by the enormous doorway, waiting patiently for the twins to catch up. “So what does that make this pair?” he asked. “They don’t look Changed.”
    Sophie shook her head. “No. They’re Changed,” she said confidently. “We’re just not seeing how.”

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
    WRAPPED IN A hooded leather cloak, Marethyu moved easily through the Elders crowding around Sophie and Josh Newman before the Pyramid of the Sun. Tucked in his shirt, bundled up in an oiled leather bag, the hook that took the place of his left hand burned and buzzed against his chest.
    He should not be here.
    Not now.
    Especially not now.
    He was in a crowd of Elders. If he brushed against any of them, even by accident, the consequences would be catastrophic. But it had been a long time since he had taken risks, and there were some risks worth taking.
    When he was younger, first coming into his powers, he had been a daredevil. What had he to fear? He was invulnerable and immortal. He could be wounded and injured, and unless he lost his head or shattered his spine, he would heal.
    But once he had begun to conceive the plan to save the world, he had taught himself to be cautious, trained himself to be a little fearful. Without him, the plan would not succeed. He had lived so long and led so many lives that he did not fear death, but he knew that one slip, one tiny mistake, could bring it all crashing down.
    Yet here he was, risking everything by coming here today.
    When he had returned to Danu Talis to set in motion all that needed to happen, he had known deep down that he wanted to witness the arrival of the twins. It would be one of the defining moments in the extraordinary history of the island empire. He wanted to see the brother and sister, the fabled twins of the ancient prophecy—one to save the world, one to destroy it.
    He felt it was worth the risk.
    Isis and Osiris had timed their arrival perfectly.
    Marethyu was standing in the shadows, watching as their crystal vimana swept down out of the sky. Osiris had waited until most of the council had arrived at the pyramid, a handful riding in decrepit vimana, the rest in carriages ranging from the hideously ornate to the grotesque. Then Osiris had deliberately taken a long curling loop before landing so that the dipping sun would splash across the craft, lighting it up like a