“You’ve held Clarent,” Dee heaved. “You’ve had a taste of its powers. You know what it can do. Think of it: kill the Archon and you will experience millennia, hundreds of millennia, of knowledge. You will know the history of the world from the very beginning. And not just this world either. A myriad of worlds.”

Suddenly, a huge explosion of vanilla-scented heat washed over them and drove them both to their knees. Dee was facing the Archon and crashed backward, hands over his face, blinded by the light. Josh rolled over, saw the Horned God engulfed in green-gold flames and then saw his sister slump unconscious to the ground. Sick with fear, he rolled over onto his hands and knees-and discovered Excalibur lying in the mud by his right hand. His fingers instantly wrapped around the hilt and a bolt of agony shot up through his left hand where he held Clarent. He attempted to drop the Coward’s Blade, but he couldn’t-it was stuck to his palm, sealed in his clenched fist. Bright red blood seeped between his fingers. He jerked away from Excalibur, and the searing pain in his left hand faded. Scrambling to his feet, he caught the edge of Excalibur’s hilt with Clarent’s blade, flicked the sword away, then ran around the car to his sister.

Dee scrambled to his knees, blinking glowing afterimages from his eyes. He saw Josh send Excalibur spinning through the air, watched it plop onto the gooey remnants of the steaming moat. It floated on the surface of the thick black oil for a single heartbeat; then the oil bubbled furiously and the blade sank.

Josh dropped to his knees, terrified. He pulled Sophie into his arms and then lifted her onto the backseat just as the engine coughed to life. A sick-looking Nicholas Flamel fell into the car, his hands streaming threads of the green energy he had used to recharge the car.

John Dee had to fling himself out of the way as the car, all its doors still flapping open, howled down the narrow alley, crushing arrows and spears under its wheels. The Magician desperately tried to focus his thoughts and gather enough energy to stop the cab, but he was physically and mentally drained. Pushing himself to his feet, he watched as the Archon crashed to the ground and rolled over and over in the sticky mud, extinguishing the flames that danced and flickered in the furs wrapping its body. Less than a handful of the Wild Hunt had survived the attack, and two of those disappeared into dust as Cernunnos accidentally crushed them.

Metal screaming, sparks fountaining from its fenders and open doors, the black cab scraped through the torn gate and fishtailed onto the damp street as it roared off into the night. Brake lights flared red; then the car turned a corner and vanished.