The Enchantress (The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel)

again.” She smiled, exposing her razor teeth, white against her black lips. “And despite our crowlike appearance, we were never the enemies of the humans. Many nations held us in honor. It seems we are allies once again, Sorceress.”
    The immortal Frenchwoman nodded. “Thank you. And thank you for returning; your presence here makes all the difference. It gives us a chance.” She stretched out her hand.
    The Crow Goddess looked at it and then slowly, almost tentatively, reached out and shook it. “Do you know,” she said, “we do not believe a human has ever voluntarily offered us their hand.”
    “Why not?” Nicholas asked.
    “Oh . . .” The Elder let out a gentle laugh. “I suppose sometimes we really do bite the hand that feeds us.”
    “So what do we do now?” Nicholas asked. “Are the three of us strong enough to attack whatever is inside either building?”
    The Crow Goddess shook her head and her feathered cloak rasped as it settled back in place. “We have seen what is within. Every great beast of human legend, every monster imaginable, and a host of anpu. They’re under the command of Xolotl,” she added significantly.
    Nicholas and Perenelle shook their heads, not recognizing the name.
    “Quetzalcoatl’s twin brother,” the Crow Goddess explained. “The evil twin.” She smiled. “They were once identical, but the Change has been particularly unkind to Xolotl: there is no flesh on his skeleton—his bones are bare, and he now has the head of a dog. Quite an ugly dog too. The anpu worship him as one of their own. We are powerful, but we are Next Generation and we could not defeat him. Only an enormously powerful Elder might stand a chance. And we do not know where to find one.”
    “But I do,” Perenelle said answered quickly. “Areop-Enap is here. If we could awaken the Old Spider, she would stand with us.”
    “But while we’re doing that, the boat will sail,” Nicholas protested.
    “You are the Alchemyst,” the Crow Goddess said. “Master of the arcane arts. And you”—she nodded at Perenelle—“are a sorceress. Surely there is something you can do?”
    “We’re already weakened . . .,” Nicholas began.
    Perenelle laid a hand on her husband’s arm. “Think simple, Nicholas. Keep it simple.”
    “And fast,” the Crow Goddess added. “The boat is getting ready to cast off for shore.”
    Nicholas looked around desperately. “If I had more time I could alter the structure of the metal and turn it porous, or magnetize the hull and pull every piece of metal toward it.”
    “We don’t have time for something so complex,” Perenelle said.
    The Crow Goddess gathered her cloak about her as she turned to look toward the shore. “As a last resort, we could drop onto the boat and kill a few of the guards, maybe the captain or the wheelman.”
    “You wouldn’t stand a chance,” Perenelle said. Despite her ferocious appearance, the Crow Goddess had a bird’s brittle bones; she might get one or two anpu before she was overwhelmed. The Sorceress looked back at her husband. “Could we try freezing the sea again?”
    “I doubt I have the strength for it, and besides, you saw how quickly it melted earlier.”
    “We could toss a few fireballs onto the boat. That would cause some chaos, maybe panic the creatures aboard. If they stampeded it might tilt the boat—upend it.”
    “Let’s keep that as a last resort,” Nicholas said. And then his eyes lit up and he smiled. “Simple. You’re right—sometimes simple is best.” Nicholas crouched down and scooped up a handful of pebbles. He rubbed them between his hands, grinding them to dust; then he brought his palms to his lips and tasted the powder with the tip of his tongue.
    “Ugh. That’s disgusting,” the Crow Goddess said.
    “Not enough cement,” he observed. “The buildings here are old. Eaten with salt, ravaged by the weather.” He bent to lift a piece of a brick off the ground and held it at arm’s length in the palm of his hand. “The structure of the bricks is already falling apart. The molecular bonds holding them together are parting. A long time ago, whenever Perenelle and I needed some money, we would take a lump of coal and transform it into a piece of gold.”
    “You’re going to turn the ship into gold?” the Crow Goddess asked in astonishment. “That would be spectacular!” She frowned. “It would sink, wouldn’t it?”
    The Alchemyst shook his head. “No, I’m not going to