“Yes.” Machiavelli smiled bitterly, remembering. “Just the once. A long time ago: in the year 1669. Dee had lost track of the Flamels after the Great Fire in London, and they had fled to continental Europe. I was holidaying in Sicily when I spotted them entirely by chance. Nicholas was ill, laid low with food poisoning, and I ensured that the local physician added some sleeping potion to his medicine. In my arrogance I thought I could defeat Perenelle first and then go after the Alchemyst.” The Italian held his left hand up to the light. A fine tracery of scars was still visible across his flesh, and there were others on his shoulders and back. “We fought for an entire day-her sorcery against my magic and alchemy…” His voice trailed away into silence.

“What happened?” Billy asked eventually.

“The energies we released caused Mount Etna to erupt. I almost died on the island that day.”

Billy the Kid lowered the binoculars, then turned his back to the bay and sat down on a low stone wall. He stared at his battered cowboy boots; the leather was scuffed and torn, almost worn through in places. It was time to get a new pair, but that meant driving down to a shoemaker he knew in New Mexico, who still crafted boots and shoes to the traditional pattern. Billy had some friends in Albuquerque and Las Cruces, others in Silver City, where he’d grown up, and Fort Sumner, where Pat Garrett had shot him down.

“I could raise a gang,” he said slowly. He expected the Italian to object and was surprised when he heard nothing. “It would be just like in the old days. I know some immortals-a couple of cowboys, a Spanish conquistador and two great Apache warriors-who are loyal to us. Maybe if we all attacked the island together…”

“It is a good idea, but you would probably be condemning your friends to death,” Machiavelli said. “There is another way.” The line crackled. “There is an army on the island-an army of monsters. I think that rather than attacking Perenelle, we should simply awaken the slumbering beasts. Many have slept under enchantment for a month or more; they will be hungry… and will go in search of the nearest warm-blooded meal: Madame Perenelle.”

Billy the Kid nodded, and then a thought struck him. “Hey, but won’t we be on the island too?”

“Trust me,” Machiavelli said. “Once we awaken the sleeping army, we will not be hanging around. I will see you tomorrow at twelve-thirty p.m. local time, when my plane lands. If everything goes according to plan, Perenelle will not live to see out the day.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Dr. John Dee was terrified.

Standing beside him, Bastet drew a sharp breath and shivered, and Dee realized that she too was scared. And that frightened him even more.