from its protective spells and charms, she felt a little of her strength
begin to return. Perenelle desperately tried to think of a spell she could
use on the guards, but contact with the ghost of Mr. Miller had left her
exhausted, and she had a headache pulsing at the back of her eyes that made
it hard to concentrate.
A shape suddenly flickered into existence directly ahead of her. Her breath,
a foggy white in the chilly air, had briefly formed a face.
Perenelle glanced at her guards on either side, but they hadn't reacted. She
drew in a deep lungful of breath, held it, allowing her body to warm it, and
then breathed out in a long, slow exhalation. A face formed in the white
mist: that of Jefferson Miller.
Perenelle frowned; his ghost should be long gone by now. Unless unless he had
come back to tell her something.
Instantly, she knew her husband was in danger. Perenelle breathed in another
great lungful of air and held it. She concentrated hard on Nicholas, seeing
him clearly in her mind s eye, with his narrow, rather mournful-looking face,
pale eyes and closely cropped hair. She smiled, remembering him when he d
been younger and his hair, thick and dark, had been longer than hers. He d
always worn it tied back at the nape of his neck with a purple velvet ribbon.
She breathed out and the air turned into a white cloud that instantly formed
into Jefferson Miller s face again. Perenelle stared into the ghost s eyes,
and there, reflected in his pupils, she could see her husband trapped beneath
the paw of the cat-headed goddess.
Rage and terror blossomed within her, and suddenly, her headache and
exhaustion left her. Her silver-threaded black hair rose from her head as if
blown in a strong breeze, sparks of blue and white static snapping along its
length. Her ice-white aura flared around her body like a second skin. Too
late the guards realized that something was wrong. They reached for her, but
the moment their hands touched the glowing edges of her aura, they were
catapulted away as if they d received an electric shock. One guard even threw
himself onto her body, but before he could lay a finger on her, Perenelle s
aura caught him and propelled him high into the wall with enough force to
knock the motorcycle helmet off his head. The figure slid down the wall, arms
and legs twisted in awkward positions. When Perenelle looked at his face, she
realized that the creatures were indeed simulacra. This one was unfinished:
his face and head were simply smooth flesh, bald, without eyes, nose, mouth
or ears.
The woman raced down the corridor, only pausing when she came to an
oily-looking puddle on the floor. Crouching over the puddle, she concentrated
hard and touched the murky water with her index and little fingers. Her white
aura sizzled when it touched the liquid, and the water briefly smoked before
it cleared and Perenelle found she was looking at the scene she had briefly
glimpsed in the ghost s eyes. Her husband was lying under Bastet s claws.
Behind them, Scatty was struggling to hold off the attacking cats and birds,
while Josh stood with his back to a tree, awkwardly clutching a branch like a
baseball bat, striking out at anything that came too close. Sophie lay at his
feet, moving slowly, blinking in confusion.
Perenelle glanced up and down the corridor. She could hear noises in the
distance, footsteps against stone, and she knew more guards were approaching.
She could run and hide or she could fight the guards; she had a little of her
strength back. But that wasn't going to help Nicholas and the children.
Perenelle looked back into the puddle. In the distance she could see Hekate
withstanding the combined attack of the Morrigan and her birds and Bastet s
cats. Perenelle also spotted Dee moving around behind Hekate, the sword in
his hand glowing bright, poisonous blue, while behind them the Yggdrasill
burned with fierce red and green flames.
There was one other thing she could do. Something desperate and dangerous,
and if it succeeded, it would leave her utterly exhausted and completely
defenseless. Dee s creatures would simply be able to pick her up and carry
her away.
Perenelle didn't think twice.
Crouching over the puddle of dirty water, she placed her right hand, palm up,
in her left hand and concentrated fiercely. Perenelle s aura began to shift
and move, flowing down her arms like drifting smoke, gathering in the palm of
her hand, running like liquid along the creases and lines in her flesh. A
tiny speck of silver-white light appeared in the folds of skin. It solidified
into a perfect sphere and then it started to spin and grow, and now the ice
white threads of her aura flowed more swiftly down her arms. Within a
heartbeat the sphere was the size of an egg, and then Perenelle suddenly
reversed her palm and thrust the ball of pure auric energy into the water.
She uttered three words.
Sophie. Wake up!
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Sophie Newman s eyes snapped open. And then she squeezed them shut again and
pressed her hands against her ears. The lights were so bright, so vivid, the
sounds of battle so incredibly clear and distinct.
The shock of hearing the voice again forced her to open her eyes and look
around. She could hear Perenelle Flamel as clearly as if she were standing
beside her, but there was no one there. She was lying propped against the
rough bark of an oak tree, with Josh standing beside her, a thick branch
clutched in both hands, desperately beating back terrifying creatures.
Sophie slowly pushed herself to her feet, holding on to the tree for support.
The last thing she clearly remembered was the bitter odor of rich green wood
burning. She remembered saying Fire! and then the rest was a series of
confused images a narrow tunnel, creatures with bird heads and cat
skulls that might have been dreams.
As Sophie s eyes adjusted and she looked around, she realized that they had
not been dreams.
They were completely surrounded by birds and cats: hundreds of them. Some of
the cat-headed humans lurked in the long grass and attempted to creep toward
them on all fours or on their bellies, spitting and clawing. There were
birdmen in the branches of the tree overhead, maneuvering to get close enough
