“N iten?” Nicholas asked.
“Battery’s dead.” The immortal turned the key in the ignition, but it clicked uselessly.
Nicholas reached up to turn on the overhead light. Nothing happened. “The Shadowrealm has drained the power.”
“What do we do?” Josh asked.
“We sit and wait,” the Alchemyst said.
With a growing sense of unease, Sophie watched as the mud figures crowded in closer around the car. Wherever they touched it, they deposited streaks of what looked like dried and flaking earth on the shining metal. One flailing arm left a muddy smear across the windshield; another pressed against her door, completely coating the glass in sticky brown-gray mud. There was a thump as something fell onto the roof, and then the car rocked from side to side with the mass of heavy bodies pressing against it.
“What’s happening?” Josh asked, a tremor in his voice. A figure started to crawl across the hot hood of the car, the heat drying out its soft flesh, leaving chunks stuck to the metal.
“Don’t open the windows!” Sophie said suddenly, her voice cracking. She sounded different than usual-old and hoarse, her words heavy with an unidentifiable accent. “They must not touch us.”
Aoife spun in the seat to look at her, green eyes narrowing suspiciously. “How do you know that?”
“The Witch told me,” Sophie whispered. Her blue eyes flickered silver, then turned shockingly green for a single instant. She turned to look out the window. Directly in front of her, its unformed face inches from hers, was one of the muddy creatures. Sophie saw her own face reflected in the glass, superimposed over the blank mask, and she drew back in fright. She knew what had attracted the creatures and what they wanted. “They’re drawn to our auras,” she said very slowly, her voice still touched by the same accent. “Though they move, they are without the spark of true life. If they can but touch us, then they will be able to suck our auras away and wrap them around themselves, giving themselves the semblance of life.”
Aoife’s pale skin had turned ghastly white, her freckles looking like spots of blood across her cheeks and nose. “You sound like… like
…” She shook her head. “But that’s impossible.”
Sophie turned to look at Aoife. She brushed strands of blond hair away from her face and looked directly at the warrior. She concentrated hard, and her blue eyes gradually paled, fading almost to white, then settling into a metallic silver. The faintest of glows touched them, and the car was filled with the scent of vanilla.
“Who are you?” Aoife demanded. “ What are you?”
When Sophie didn’t answer, Nicholas sat forward and said, “Sophie was Awakened by Hekate, and then your grandmother taught her the Magic of Air. At the same time, the Witch passed on her memories. Sophie knows all that the Witch knew.”
Aoife pulled back from Sophie, her face suddenly blank. “I don’t believe it.”
“It’s true,” Josh said.
“Why are you frightened?” Sophie asked. Memories came flooding into her consciousness, and she nodded slowly as she answered her own question. “You fear what I know.”
“I am afraid of nothing!” Aoife said quickly.
“I think you have been afraid all your life.”
“This is some sort of trick,” Aoife snapped, with the tiniest tremor in her voice. “Flamel or the Sorceress has schooled you.” Wisps of her ugly gray aura coiled off her body like steam, leaking from her nose and ears. “If you truly know all that the Witch of Endor knew, then tell me her true name, her secret name.”
“Zephaniah,” Sophie breathed. And even as she said the name, her heart started to hammer as sudden vivid memories washed over her. Closing her eyes, she drew in a deep breath…