Jerking the burning whip free, Zephaniah lashed out again, this time catching him around the throat. Gripping the whip with both hands, she jerked hard and managed to tug Prometheus off balance. He staggered, and then his aura flickered and died as he folded to his knees.

“Prometheus…” Zephaniah dropped to the ground, cradling her brother, ignoring the heat that burned her flesh and seared her clothes. He opened his green eyes and looked up at her.

“What happened?” he mumbled.

Zephaniah tore her gaze from her brother to look up. What had once been statues were now living beings. They crowded around, still and silent, and she realized to her horror that their once-formless faces had altered to take on a semblance of her brother’s features.

“I think you’ve become a father,” she said in awe. “Little Brother, they all look like you.”

“Oh dear.” He coughed. “Even the women?”

“Especially the women,” Zephaniah said, closing her eyes.

Sophie Newman opened her eyes and instantly recognized the face glaring in through the window at them. “Prometheus,” she breathed. “Little Brother.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

The huge ravens Huginn and Muninn, each as big as a horse, fell toward Dee and Virginia Dare, razor-sharp talons splayed wide. Their instructions were clear: lift both of the immortals high into the air and, once they were over the Thames, drop the woman into the river as punishment for aiding the Magician.

Dr. John Dee shoved Virginia to one side, sending her sliding across the frozen pool, her flute spinning from her hand. The Magician tried to run but lost his footing, his feet shooting out from under him. The fall saved his life.

The two monstrous crows crashed into the ice, talons and beaks shattering the surface. Huginn disappeared under the water with a startled squawk, then reappeared a moment later in an explosion of glistening shards. Muninn slid across the slippery pool, scrambling to gain purchase.

Dee staggered to his feet and stood swaying as the ice shattered all around him. He felt water soak into his expensive shoes and, with a surge of annoyance, stamped his foot down hard. The surface froze again, trapping Huginn partially under water and immobilizing Muninn’s feet.

The howling of the cucubuths was closer now.

Virginia Dare had clambered to her feet and retrieved her flute by the time Dee made his way across the frozen pool to her side. “Time to go,” he snapped.

Muninn’s huge head jerked toward them, jabbing its spearlike beak as the immortals tried to get past. Dee reached under his coat and pulled out the sword. The weapon crackled, red-blue fire running along the stone blade as he waved it in the air before the huge bird. The raven jerked its head back and then its beak opened and closed.

“Magician.”

The voice that came from the bird was raw with disuse. It spoke in the ancient language of Danu Talis.