01_-_The_Alchemyst

The Morrigan drew her cloak tighter around her shoulders. The cloud
above her head thickened and drifted lower. “Then there is no one in North
America. I came across Nocticula in Austria, and I know that Erichtho still
hides out on Thessaly—”
“You’re wrong,” Dee interrupted. “There is one other who could
Awaken the boy.”
“Who?” Bastet growled, frowning, her snout wrinkling.
Dr. John Dee turned to the Crow Goddess. “You could.”
The Morrigan stepped away from Dee, black eyes wide with surprise,
pointed teeth pressing against the bruise-colored flesh of her thin lips. A
ripple ran through her black cloak, ruffling all the feathers.
“You are mistaken,” Bastet hissed. “My niece is Next Generation, she
hasn’t got the powers.”
Dee turned to face the Crow Goddess. If he knew he was playing a
dangerous—possibly even deadly—game, he showed no sign of it. “At one
time, perhaps that would have been true. But the Morrigan’s powers are
more, much, much more, than they were.”
“Niece, what is he talking about?” Bastet demanded.
“Be very, very careful, humani,” the Crow Goddess cackled.
“My loyalty is not in question here,” Dee said quickly. “I have served
the Elders for half a millennium. I am merely looking for a way to achieve
our aim.” He stepped up to the Morrigan. “Once, like Hekate, you wore three
faces: you were the Morrigan, the Macha and the Badb. Unlike Hekate,
though, you and your two sisters occupied three bodies. It was your
consciousnesses that were linked. Individually you were powerful, but
together you were invincible.” He paused and seemed to be taking a moment
to gather his thoughts, but in actuality, he was ensuring he had a firm grip on
Excalibur beneath his coat. “When did you decide to kill your sisters?” he
asked casually.
With a terrible screech the Morrigan leapt for Dee.
And stopped.