“Here it comes," Niten said. The whites of his eyes,his teeth and his tongue had turned blue."Ready," Prometheus said.Nicholas Flamel touched the green scarab he now wore around his neck and felt it grow warm in his hand.The spell was a simple one,something he had performed a thousand times before, though never on such a large scale.A red-skinned head broke the surface of the water...followed by a second...and a third...and then a fourth head,black and twice as large as the others appeared. Suddenly there were seven heads streaking toward them."Let's hope no one if filming this," Niten murmered."No one would believe it anyway." Prometheus grinned. "Seven-headed monsters simply do not exist.If anyone saw it,they'd say it was Photoshopped.”

“Two against thirty two,” Niten said. “Good odds.”“I’ve never fought the Spartoi before,” Prometheus admitted. “I only know of them by their reputation—and it’s fearsome.”“We have an equal reputation,” Niten said.“Well, you do,” the Elder said. “I was never that much of a fighter. And after the fall of the island, I rarely took up weapons again.”“Fighting is a skill you never forget,” Niten said, a touch of sadness in his voice. “I fought my first duel when I was thirteen. I’ve been fighting ever since.”“But you are more than just a swordsman,” Prometheus said. “You are an artist, a sculptor and a writer.”“No man is ever just one thing,” Niten answered. His shoulder dropped and his short sword appeared in his left hand, water droplets sparkling from the blade. “But first and foremost, I was always a warrior.” He jabbed his sword into the fog and stirred it like liquid.”

“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.”

“The Alchemyst had discovered that the seats revolved and had been amusing himself by swinging back and forth. His chair squeaked with each turn.Finally Prometheus turned and glared at the immortal. "If you do that one more time, I'm going to feed you to the Lotan myself.""And I will help," Niten added.”

“His mouth. It touched hers lightly, just touched at first. And it seemed every nerve in her body suddenly rushed toward her mouth to join the explosion of sensation his lips brought. He moved his head and his mouth slid one way, then the other, and his fingers tightened around her neck, pulling her closer.”

“There were no horns sticking out of his head or third eye in between his two gorgeous blue ones. There were only the most kissable lips, set on a perfectly sculpted face, telling me that he would do anything to protect me.”