“No doubt it is lost beneath centuries of silt and mud. But never mind that; Dee could-and did-use any highly polished surface to scry-mirrors, windows, glass, polished crystals-but then he discovered that liquids worked better. By applying his aura to a liquid, he could alter its properties, turn it reflective and use it to look at people and places from across the globe or from other times and places. With enough time and preparation, he could even look into the closest Shadowrealms. He could also use it to see through the eyes of animals or birds. They became his spies.”

“He is astonishing,” Flamel agreed, shaking his head in wonder. “If only he’d chosen to work with us, against the Dark Elders.”

“The doctor usually used pure springwater, though I have known him to use snow, ice, wine or even beer. Any liquid will do.” Leaning forward, Shakespeare tapped the black plastic frame around the computer screen. “And what do we have here… but liquid crystal?”

The Alchemyst’s pale eyes widened and he nodded slowly. From under the neck of his T-shirt, he pulled the tiny pair of pince-nez he wore around his neck on a string and popped them onto his nose. “Of course,” he whispered. “And the properties of liquid crystal can be altered by applying an electrical or a magnetic charge. That changes the orientation of the crystals.” He snapped his fingers and a tiny green spark no bigger than a pinprick appeared on his index finger. The foul-smelling hut was touched by the sharp fragrance of mint, and a curling smokelike pattern immediately rolled down both screens. Flamel moved his finger and both screens flashed white, then green, then abruptly turned into dull mirrors that reflected his face, framed by Shakespeare and Josh. “I would never have thought of that. That’s genius!”

“Thank you,” Shakespeare muttered, sounding a little embarrassed by the praise, blotches of color on his pale cheeks.

“What will you use as a mirror on the other end?” Flamel asked.

“Spiderweb,” the Bard said, surprisingly. “I’ve found that whether it be in a palace or a hovel, there are always spiderwebs. The threads are always sticky with liquid, and they make excellent magical mirrors.”

Flamel nodded again, obviously impressed.

“Now all we need is something that links you to Madame Perenelle.”

Nicholas peeled off the heavy silver bracelet that wrapped around his right wrist. “Perenelle made this for me herself,” he explained, laying it on the table. “A little more than a century ago, a masked bounty hunter chased us across America. His guns were loaded with silver bullets. I think he thought us werewolves.”

“Werewolves and silver bullets!” Shakespeare coughed a quick laugh and shook his head. “Lord, what fools these mortals be!”

“I thought silver bullets worked against werewolves,” Josh said, “but I’m guessing not?”

“No,” Flamel said. “I’ve always preferred vinegar.”