Startled, Josh caught it in his right hand and leaned forward so that he could examine it in the light from the TV. It was a small stone circle about the size of his palm. The stone was polished smooth, and there were traces of gold and bronze paint on the surface. In the center was a round-eyed open-mouthed face with a series of rings around it. Etched and carved into each ring were countless blocky symbols. Josh frowned. He’d seen something like this before. “It’s an Aztec calendar,” he said finally. “My mom has one just like it in her study.”

“It’s called a sunstone,” Prometheus said quietly.

Josh turned the smooth stone disc over in his hands. It felt warm.

“I know your sister was taught Fire magic by Saint-Germain.”

Josh squirmed uncomfortably. “Nicholas told me not to mention his name in front of you.”

The Elder waved a huge hand. “Saint-Germain is a rogue, a liar and a thief, but I forgave him. He was my student for a long time; then he either got lazy or greedy. He stole the secret of fire from me, but”-the Elder shrugged-“it was hard for me to remain mad at him, because I’d originally stolen fire myself. Someone-not me-taught Saint-Germain how to use the Magic of Fire, but they did not know all my secrets. I will teach you more about the Magic of Fire than your sister will ever know. Look at the sunstone.”

Josh looked down into the palm of his hand, and his breath caught in his chest. The disc had started to throb and pulse with a dull golden light, and for a moment, he thought the eyes on the carved face had blinked and the tongue had flickered.

“I swore I would never teach another humani the Magic of Fire, but there are some promises which should be broken.”

Wisps of yellow smoke steamed off the stone and the scent of oranges filled the room.

“You are the sun, Josh; fire is your natural element. Your sister is the moon, and her primary element is water. Yes, your sister knows fire, but you, Josh, you will know it a hundred times better!”

And the disc burst into flame.

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

Sophie screamed.

She leapt up from the kitchen table clutching her hand.

Perenelle and Aoife surged to their feet on either side of her. Only Flamel and Niten remained seated.

“What’s wrong?” Perenelle demanded.

Sophie held up her right hand. Her palm was bright red. “I thought… It felt like something burned me,” she said, blinking away tears.

Perenelle crossed to the sink and ran cold water onto a tea towel, then pressed it against Sophie’s palm. “So, it’s begun,” she said, looking into the girl’s eyes. “Prometheus is teaching your brother the Magic of Fire.”

“But it didn’t hurt when Saint-Germain taught me.”