“Or lemon,” Shakespeare said, “and pepper is a very reasonable alternative.” He saw Josh’s puzzled look and added, “Spray it on them or throw it into their eyes and nose. They will stop and sneeze and that will give you time to escape.”

“Vinegar, lemon and pepper,” Josh muttered. “I’ll remember to add them to my werewolf-hunting kit. And if I don’t find any werewolves, I can always make a salad,” Josh said sarcastically.

Shakespeare shook his head. “No, no, you would need a good olive oil for a salad,” he said seriously, “and olive oil is ineffective against any of the Wereclans.”

“Though very useful against bruxa and strega,” Flamel murmured absently as he created swirling fractal-like patterns on the two LCD screens.

“I was not aware of that,” Shakespeare said. “And how would one use-”

“What happened to the bounty hunter?” Josh interrupted, frustrated, trying to bring the conversation back on track.

“Oh, Perenelle ended up rescuing him from a tribe of Oh-mah.”

“Oh-mah?” Josh and Shakespeare asked together.

“Sasquatch… Saskehavis,” Flamel said, and for an instant, an image of a tall, primitive-looking, powerfully built human appeared on the screen. It was covered in long reddish hair and carried a huge club made from a gnarled tree root. “Big Foot,” he added.

“Big Foot. Of course.” Josh shook his head. “So you’re saying there are Big Foot-Big Feet-in America?”

“Of course,” Flamel said dismissively. “When Perenelle rescued the bounty hunter from the Oh-mah,” he continued, stroking the bracelet, “he presented her with his silver bullets as a gift.” A green spark crawled across the metal. “I watched her melt down the silver bullets with her aura and shape each link…” The scent of mint filled the hut again. Picking up the bracelet, the Alchemyst closed his fist around the metal band. “She always said that a little of her was in this bracelet.”

And abruptly both LCD screens blinked and the trio found they were looking at Perenelle Flamel.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Even without de Ayala to guide her, the smell of mint would have drawn Perenelle deeper into the cells. Crisp and clean, it blanketed the stench of the decaying building and the ever-present tang of salt. There was another scent in Alcatraz now: the zoolike stench of too many animals crowded together.

De Ayala stopped before the entrance to a cell and drifted to one side, revealing a huge intricate spiderweb filling the opening. The circular web glistened with trembling liquid droplets. The odor of mint was strongest here.

“Nicholas?” Perenelle whispered, puzzled. It was the distinctive deliciously familiar scent of her husband’s aura… but what was it doing here? She tried to peer beyond the web, into the cell. “Nicholas?” she whispered again.