The Sorceress nodded and relaxed. She had already known the answer; nearly two centuries earlier, she had fought a nest of Next Generation harpies on the Palatine Hill above Rome in Italy. She’d discovered then that despite their ferocious appearance and deadly claws, they lacked physical strength. In the time it had taken Nicholas to find a sword and spear in their baggage, Perenelle had swatted them out of the air with her leather cloak and then used her whip, which was woven from a handful of snakes she had pulled from the Medusa’s hair, to turn the creatures to stone. If the Crow Goddess had told her that they could carry her off the island, she would have known they were lying.

“At the moment when you thought our sister had died,” the Crow Goddess continued, “we sensed your sorrow, your regret at her passing. Free us, Sorceress, and while we control this body, we will not move against you or yours. That is our oath to you.”

Unlike her husband, Nicholas, who was a man of science, Perenelle Flamel was a creature of intuition. She always followed her instinct; it rarely failed her, and if she was wrong now and the Crow Goddess attacked her, then she was hoping that a combination of her power and the deadly spear would be effective against the creature.

“Give me your word, then,” Perenelle demanded.

“You have it,” the two voices buzzed. “We will not harm you. We owe you a debt of honor.”

“Close your eyes,” Perenelle commanded. She stepped forward, leveling the spear at the web. Gray-white smoke drifted in tall vertical lines and cobwebs hissed and sizzled as she pressed the spearhead to the sticky threads. She tried to cut the strands that would ease the bound Crow Goddess down gently, but then she remembered that this was a creature that was almost impervious to pain. The spear moved in a huge slashing X and the creature tumbled to the ground without a sound. Although free of the web, she was still tightly wrapped in thread.

The red and yellow eyes opened. “Careful, Sorceress,” the Crow Goddess muttered as Perenelle approached, holding the spear in both hands. The eyes fixed on the smoking blade. “A cut could be lethal.”

“I’ll remember that,” the Sorceress promised as she carefully, delicately sliced away the almost-invisible cocoon, then peeled it back and freed the Crow Goddess.

The creature surged to her feet and brushed strands of sticky web off her leather cuirass. Then she stretched, leather cracking as she spread her arms wide and arched her back. Both voices buzzed together. “Oh, but it is good to be alive again.”

“Is there any danger that the Morrigan could reappear?” Perenelle asked, straightening up, holding tightly onto the spear. A single movement would bring it down on the Crow Goddess.