“Well, I liked him, too, but he was crazy,” he reminded her.

“I’m not so sure about that.” Sophie wandered around the room, running her fingertips over the plastic chairs, the Formica tabletop and the squat rectangular box that was the radio. She turned the dial and the radio hissed static that was touched with just the hint of voices. She clicked it off, leaned back against a bulky cream-colored Prestcold fridge and looked at her brother. “Now that I know the Witch’s memories are safe and can’t hurt me, I’ve been trying to remember everything she knew about Gilgamesh… but there are big blanks.”

“Blanks? What sort of blanks?”

“You know when you’re trying to remember the words of a song? You sort of know what it sounds like, you can hum the tune, but the whole thing just won’t come out. It’s like that.”

Josh nodded. “Happens to me all the time during finals. I know that I know the answer, I just can’t get at it.”

Sophie took a deep breath. “I’m concentrating on Gilgamesh now, for example. I can almost remember what he looks like, I can even picture him as a young man-I can see black curly hair and eyes the color of the ocean-but I can’t remember anything else.” She shook her head, frustrated. “It’ll come, I’m sure.”

“Can you remember anything about the Flamels?” Josh asked.

“Only bits and pieces. The Witch didn’t know a lot about them. She’d heard of them, of course. All the Elders and Dark Elders knew about the Flamels, but the Witch hasn’t had much contact with them… or with anyone, for that matter. For generations, she’s lived a very reclusive life. She’s wandered alone through the Middle East and the Russian steppes, and she lived in Transylvania, Greece, Switzerland and France before she came over to America sometime toward the end of the nineteenth century.”

“And Perenelle was apprenticed to the Witch?” Josh asked. “Where?”

“In France. But apparently Perenelle didn’t tell the Witch that she was married to Nicholas. She went by her maiden name. It was only later, much, much later, that the Witch discovered the truth.”

“That seems odd. Why did she do that?” Josh asked.

Sophie shook her head. “The Witch didn’t know.”

Josh stood up and ran his hands through his hair, pulling it back off his forehead; then he rubbed his palms against his jeans. His hair felt greasy and he realized how badly he needed a shower. “Look, it’s clear that Nicholas isn’t in charge anymore-”