Flamel lay slumped before the destroyed screens. His skin was the color of yellowed parchment, there were new wrinkles around his eyes and the lines etched into his forehead had deepened. When he turned to look at the Saracen, his eyes were glassy and unfocused, the whites tinged with green.

“I told you not to use your aura,” the knight snarled. “I warned you.” Palamedes rounded on Shakespeare. “Prepare for battle. Alert the guards.” The Bard nodded and hurried outside, the red-eyed dogs silent now, fanning out around him in a protective shield. The knight’s chain-mail armor appeared ghostlike around his huge frame, then solidified. “What did I say, Alchemyst? Death and destruction follow you. How many will die tonight because of you?” he shouted before he raced out the door.

Josh blinked black spots from in front of his eyes. He saw his sister swaying and caught her arm. “I’m exhausted,” he said.

Sophie nodded in agreement. “Me too.”

“I could actually feel the energy flowing up through my body and down my arm,” he said in wonder. He looked at his fingertips. The skin was red and there were water blisters forming over his fingerprints. He helped his twin to a chair and sat her down, then knelt in front of her. “How do you feel?”

“Drained,” Sophie mumbled, and Josh noticed that her eyes were still flat, mirrored silver discs. He was disturbed to see a distorted image of himself reflected in them. It was such a tiny change to her body, and yet it lent her face a sinister and almost alien appearance. As he watched, the silver gradually faded and the normal blue returned. “Perenelle?” she said, but her mouth was dry and the words came out thickly. “What happened to her?” she whispered hoarsely, then added, “I need some water.”

Josh was getting to his feet when Shakespeare appeared by his side with two glasses of muddy-colored liquid. “Drink these.”

Josh accepted both glasses but took a tentative sip of his first before handing it to his sister. He made a face. “Tastes sweet. What’s in it?”

“Just water. I took the liberty of adding a spoonful of natural honey to each,” the immortal said. “You have just used a lot of calories and burned through much of your bodies’ natural sugars and salts. You will need to replace them as quickly as possible.” He smiled crookedly, showing his bad teeth. “Consider it the price of magic.” He placed a third glass, larger than the others, swirling with brown honey, on the table by the Alchemyst. “And you too, Nicholas,” he said gently. “Drink quickly. There is much to do.” Then he turned and hurried out into the night.