Then I’ll go keep our crocodile friends busy.” Niten’s teeth flashed in a smile. “I’ll try to leave a few for you.” He stepped away and faded into the night.
“Be careful,” Prometheus called.
A disembodied voice drifted out of the fog. “I was born for this. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“You could be killed and eaten by the Spartoi.”
“Doesn’t frighten me.
Niten’s hand moved and the ragged end of the broken katana caught the crocodile in the center of the chest. Eyes wide, mouth gaping in surprise, it staggered back into the fog. “You talk too much,” Niten whispered.
Michael ScottMist swirled and the Spartoi closed in on the defenseless Niten. Lightning fast, one lashed out at him, catching him a blow on the thigh, and he fell to the bridge with a grunt of pain. He lay flat on his back, looked up at the lizard-like creatures and realized that he was going to die. The immortal felt just the vaguest pang of regret: He had always wanted to die in his beloved Japan and he had made Aoife promise that if he fell in some foreign country or shadowrealm, she would bring his body back to Reigando in the southwest of his country. But Aoife was gone. He would never be able to fulfill his promise to rescue her. And he would never rest in his home soil.
Michael ScottHow the mighty have fallen,” he said, looking down on Aten. Ard-Greimne was short and incredibly sensitive about his height. He always wore shoes with lifts in them. When Aten didn’t respond, he tried again. “I said, how the mighty—”
“It wasn’t funny or even clever the first time you said it,” Aten said. “Nor is it original.
Go down a few steps and take your positions,” Prometheus instructed. “Let no one onto the roof. Will and Palamedes, you take the north side. Saint-Germain, can you take the west? Joan, the east is yours. I’ll guard the south.”
“How come you get the dangerous side?” Saint-Germain asked.
The big Elder smiled. “They’re all dangerous sides.
Niccolo Machiavelli folded his arms across his chest and looked at the alchemyst. “I always knew we would meet again,” he said in French. “Though I never imagined it would be in these circumstances,” he added with a smile. “I was certain I’d get you in Paris last Saturday.” He bowed, an old-fashioned courtly gesture as Perenelle joined her husband. “Mistress Perenelle, it seems we are forever destined to meet on islands.”
“The last time we met you had poisoned my husband and attempted to kill me,” Perenelle reminded him, speaking in Italian.
Over three thousand years previously, the Sorceress and the Italian had fought at the foot of Mount Etna in Sicily. Although Perenelle had defeated Machiavelli, the energies they unleashed caused the ancient volcano to erupt. Lava flowed for five weeks after the battle and destroyed ten villages.
“Forgive me. I was younger then, and foolish. And you emerged the victor of the encounter. I carry the scars to this day.”
“Let us try and not blow up this island,” she said with a smile. Then she stretched out her hand. “I saw you try to save me earlier. There is no longer any enmity between us.”
Machiavelli took her fingers in his and bent over them. “Thank you. That pleases me.
Niten drew in a deep shuddering breath and the air was suffused with the delicate odor of green tea.
“And Tsagaglalal . . .”
“Yes, Father?”
Prometheus closed his eyes. “Tell Niten to find Aoife and ask her the question. Tell him . . . tell him she will say yes.
Don’t be creative. Don’t be stupid.”
“That’s what Machiavelli said. You guys really have a lot of faith in me, don’t you?”
“Neither one of us wants to lose you. Just be careful, Billy. Careful is my middle name.”
Black Hawk rolled his eyes. “You told me it was Henry.
Have you any idea how to wake a hibernating Elder?”
Machiavelli shook his head.
“Mars, what about you? Any advice?”
“Yes. Don’t.
Guess I can’t go back to working for Quetzalcoatl, eh?”
“When this is over, Billy,” Black Hawk said. “I think maybe we should go and visit the feathered serpent. Hand in our resignations. I’ll bring a box of matches.”
“You going to toast some marshmallows with him?”
“I’ll toast something,” Black Hawk promised.
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