Michael Scott - The Sorceress

"Stop her," Billy shouted. "Do something!"

"Will you be quiet for a moment?" he snapped at the American. He pulled out his phone. "I need to make a report, and I'm really not looking forward to it. One should never be the bearer of bad news."

And then, across the bay, the Old Man of the Sea exploded out of the water, directly in front of the boat. Octopus tentacles wrapped tightly around the small craft, bringing it to a shuddering halt. Perenelle disappeared, flung back by the sudden stop.

Machiavelli put his phone back in his pocket; maybe he would have some good news to report after all.

Nereus's voice trembled across the water, his words vibrating on the waves. "I knew we would meet again, Sorceress." Machiavelli and Billy watched as the hideous Elder flowed up out of the sea and squatted across the prow of the boat, legs writhing. Wood creaked and cracked, the small windshield shattered and the weight of the creature in the front of the vessel brought the stern right up out of the waves, its outboard engine still whining.

Shading his eyes, Machiavelli watched the Sorceress climb to her feet. She was holding a long wooden spear in both hands. Sunlight winked golden off the weapon, which trailed white smoke into the air. He saw her stab once, twice, three times at the creature's legs before bringing the spear around to jab at Nereus's chest. Water fountained, spraying high, as the Old Man of the Sea desperately scrambled away from the blade. The Elder fell off the prow of the boat and disappeared back under the waves in an explosion of frothing bubbles. The boat settled back in the water, engine foaming and churning, and then shot forward again. Three long still-wriggling legs peeled off the motorboat and drifted away on the tide. The entire encounter had taken less than a minute.

Machiavelli sighed and pulled out his phone again. He had no good news to report after all; could this day get any worse? A shadow appeared overhead and he looked up to see the huge shape of the Crow Goddess flying by. She soared high, black cloak spread like wings, then swooped down to land neatly on the back of the yellow motorboat.

The Italian started to smile. Of course, the Crow Goddess would simply pull the Sorceress out of the boat and then the Nereids could feast. The smile faded as he watched the two women-Next Generation and immortal human-embrace. By the time they turned to wave back at the island, his face was a grim mask.

"I thought the Crow Goddess was on our side," Billy the Kid said plaintively.

"It seems you just cannot trust anyone these days," Niccolo Machiavelli remarked, walking away. he Wild Hunt raced across Salisbury Plain.

The creatures Sophie and Josh had only briefly glimpsed earlier were closer now. Some were recognizable: black dogs and gray wolves, enormous red-eyed cats, massive bears, curled-tusked boars, goats, stags and horses. Others had joined the Hunt: human-shaped figures carved from stone; creatures with bark for skin, leaves for hair and branches for limbs raced after them. Sophie and Josh recognized more of the Genii Cucullati, the Hooded Ones; they saw shaven skinhead cucubuths wielding chains, and knights in stained and rust-eaten armor. Tattooed warriors in furs and Roman centurions in broken armor limped after red-haired Dearg Due. And running among the monsters were perfectly normal-looking humans, carrying swords, knives and spears; Josh found these the most frightening of all.

The twins looked to where Stonehenge loomed dark and indistinct in the night, and knew that they were not going to reach it in time. "We'll stand and fight," Josh panted, analyzing their situation and their limited options. "I've got a little strength left… Maybe I can call up some more rain…"

A savage high-pitched howling echoed across Salisbury Plain. Josh's heart sank as he saw movement to their right-another group was moving in to cut them off. "Trouble," he stated.

"On the contrary." Palamedes grinned. "Look again."

And then Josh recognized the figure leading the group. "Shakespeare!"

The Bard led the Gabriel Hounds in at an angle. The well-disciplined Ratchets crashed into the mismatched army, bringing it to a shuddering halt. Iron spears and metal swords flashed in the night and a pall of dust quickly rose up over the plain.

William Shakespeare, in full modern police body armor and visored helmet, fell into step with Palamedes. "Well met," he said.

"I thought I told you not to wait past sundown," the Saracen Knight said.

"Oh, everything comes to he who waits," Shakespeare said. "And you know I never listen to you anyway," the Bard added with a shy smile. "Besides, with nothing moving on the roads, I guessed you would find a place to hide until dark."

Palamedes dumped the unconscious Alchemyst on the ground and started slapping Flamel's cheeks. "Wake up, Flamel. Wake up. We need to know which stone."

Nicholas's pale eyes blinked open. "Get to the Altar Stone," he whispered hoarsely.

Gabriel appeared out of the night. His bare flesh was streaked with black soot. It caked his long hair. "There are just too many of them, and more coming every minute," he panted. "We can't hold them."

Josh pointed toward the circle of stones. "Pull everyone back to Stonehenge." The same feeling of peace he'd felt earlier had washed over him again. There were no more decisions left to make. Once again all he had to do was to stand and fight. He would protect his sister to the end. Pressing his hand against his chest, he felt the two pages of the Codex crinkle under his shirt. Maybe it was time to destroy them, though he wasn't entirely sure how. Maybe he could eat them. "Everyone back," he shouted. "We'll make our last stand there." hat may not be necessary," Shakespeare snapped. "The Wild Hunt and these other creatures are here for you and your sister, drawn by the smell of your auras and the huge reward Dee has put on your heads. They've no interest in us. So all we have to do is to get rid of you. Palamedes, Gabriel," the Bard commanded. "Buy us some time."

The Saracen Knight nodded. His dented armor formed and re-formed around his body, turning smooth, black and reflective. Gripping his huge longsword in both his hands, he launched himself toward the wolves and black cats. Gabriel led the surviving Ratchets after him.

Shakespeare supported the Alchemyst and Josh held Sophie upright, and the four made their way between two tall sandstone columns into the heart of Stonehenge.

The moment Josh stepped into the circle, he felt the ancient buzz of power. It reminded him of the sensations he'd experienced when he'd held Clarent in his hands, the feeling that there were voices just at the edge of his hearing. He looked around, but it was hard to make out the shapes of the stones in the night.

"How old is this place?" he asked.

"The earliest site is perhaps five thousand years old, but it may be older," Shakespeare answered. He suddenly bumped into a stone lying flat on the ground. "Here's the Altar Stone," he said to the Alchemyst.

Nicholas Flamel sank onto the stone, breathing heavily, one hand pressed against his chest. "Orient me," he wheezed. "Which way is north?"

Both Shakespeare and Josh instinctively looked to the heavens, searching for the polestar.

A huge black cat suddenly leapt through the gates, mouth gaping, paws extended toward the Alchemyst. Flamel threw up his hands and razor-sharp claws scored his palm; then Shakespeare's police baton snapped out, knocking the creature out of the air. The cat crashed onto the huge stone and dissolved to dust. "Like metal, the stones are poisonous to them," the Bard said quickly. "They cannot touch them; that's why they're not rushing us. Alchemyst, if you are going to do anything, then you need to do it now." He pointed. "This way is north."