A second wave of arrows rained down on the Wild Hunt. For an instant the creatures winked back into the forms they had worn as humans: Spartan warriors, blue-painted Celts, massive Vikings and tall Masai hunters. Then fur, flesh and bones dissolved into age-old dust. Those who came behind blinked grit from their yellow eyes, sneezing as it coated their muzzles.

“Fire!” Shakespeare shouted from the right-hand side.

A third wave of arrows scythed into the wolves. Samurai in full armor, ferocious Gurkas in jungle camouflage and primitive hominids turned from wolves to humans to dust in a heartbeat. Crusader knights in metal and German World War II officers in gray, French legionnaires in blue and savage Vandals in furs briefly assumed their human forms before they disappeared. Josh noticed that they all had smiles on their faces, as if they were relieved to finally be free.

“Three volleys: the Gabriel Hounds are out of arrows,” Josh murmured.

“We’ve got to go now,” Flamel snapped, coming around to stand in front of Josh.

“No,” Josh answered quietly. “We’re not leaving.”

“You agreed it was better if we left,” Flamel began. “We will fight them, but not today.”

“I changed my mind,” Josh said shortly. On one level-thinking coldly, practically, logically-he knew that it made sense to run, hide and regroup. He looked for Shakespeare, finding him on a parapet, surrounded by the Gabriel Hounds. The Bard had been prepared to sacrifice himself, to buy time to allow the others to escape. That had nothing to do with logic; that had been an emotional decision. And sometimes emotion won more battles than logic. Clarent shivered in his grip and for the first time Josh caught momentary impressions of the lineage of warriors who had held the ancient blade, who had faced down terrible odds, fought monsters and demons, battled entire armies. Some-many-had died. But none had run. The stone blade whispered agreement in Josh’s mind. A warrior didn’t run.

“Josh…” Anger had crept into the Alchemyst’s voice.

“We’re staying!” Josh barked. He turned to look at Flamel, and something in the boy’s face and eyes made the Alchemyst step back.

“Then you are putting yourself and your twin in terrible danger,” Flamel said icily.

“I think we’ve been in terrible danger from the moment we met you,” Josh said. Unconsciously, he lifted the smoking blade, moving it in the air between them, tracing two waving lines in the air. “We’ve spent the last couple of days running with you from danger to danger.” His lips pulled back from his teeth in a frightening grin. “I think we should have been running from you.”

The Alchemyst folded his arms, but not before Josh once again smelled bitter peppermint. “I am going to pretend you did not say that.”

“But I did. And I meant it.”