Last night, she’d watched the Flamels put their hands on it, allowing their auras to sink into it. The crystal had glowed dully, the hint of ice-white, the merest suggestion of pale green winking deep within its core, but nothing else had happened, and the effort had exhausted Nicholas.

Sophie hurried past it. She didn’t see the crystal as it pulsed silver and the eye sockets darkened, filling with shadow. The light faded as she moved away from the table and walked to the couch, where Josh had spent the night.

But the couch was empty.

“Josh?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Maybe he was in the bathroom, or he’d probably gone up to the main house looking for food. Yet even as she was making excuses, she knew they weren’t true. When Josh had returned after learning the Magic of Fire from Prometheus, he had been ashen-faced, staggering with exhaustion. He’d fallen sound asleep the moment he’d crawled onto the couch.

“Josh?” she called again. “Josh?”

The fluttering in her stomach was worse now, like really bad indigestion, and her heart was racing so fast she was feeling breathless.

“Josh!” Louder now. “Where are you?” If this was a joke, it wasn’t funny. “Josh Newman, you come here right this minute!”

She heard movement at the door and the handle turned. Spinning toward it, Sophie put her hands on her hips. “Just where have you-”

The door swung open and Aoife stepped into the room, followed by Niten. The Japanese immortal carried two swords, one much longer than the other, while Aoife clutched a long ugly leaf-bladed knife.

“It’s Josh,” Sophie began breathlessly. “He’s missing.”

They split up without a word, Niten moving to the right, Aoife to the left. The guest cottage was tiny and they were back in the kitchen within moments. “No sign of a struggle,” Niten said calmly. “Looks like he just walked out.” He turned and disappeared back into the night, leaving Sophie alone with Aoife.

“He’s gone,” Sophie whispered. “He’s gone.” It was all she could say as waves of panic began to wash over her.

Aoife returned the knife to the sheath strapped to her leg. “Talk to me,” she said. “What happened?”

Sophie shook her head. “When I woke up, I felt…” She pressed both hands to her stomach as she searched for the words.

“Empty,” Aoife suggested.

Sophie looked at the red-haired warrior. “Yes,” she breathed, suddenly able to identify the feeling. “I feel empty. I’ve never felt that way before.”

Aoife nodded, her pale face expressionless.

Niten opened the door and spoke quickly to the warrior in Japanese, then turned and raced away.