01_-_The_Alchemyst

It was now close to three-thirty.
Flamel and Scatty leaned against the door, peering inside, while the
twins looked through the window. The small shop seemed to sell only
glassware: bowls, jugs, plates, paperweights, ornaments and mirrors. Lots of
mirrors. They were everywhere, and in all shapes and sizes from tiny circles
to huge rectangles. Much of the glass looked modern, but a few of the pieces
in the window were obviously antiques.
“So what do we do now?” Flamel wondered. “Where can she be?”
“Probably wandered out to get lunch and forgot to come back,” Scatty
said, turning to look up and down the street. “Hardly busy today, is it?” Even
though it was late Friday afternoon, traffic was light on the main street, and
there were fewer than a dozen pedestrians moving slowly beneath the
covered promenade.
“We could check the restaurants,” Flamel suggested. “What does she
like to eat?”
“Don’t ask,” Scatty said quickly, “you really do not want to know.”
“Maybe if we split up…,” Nicholas began.
On impulse Sophie leaned forward and turned the handle: a bell jangled
musically and the door swung open.
“Nice one, Sis.”
“Saw it done in a movie once,” she muttered. “Hello?” she called,
stepping into the shop.
There was no response.
The antiques shop was tiny, little more than a long rectangular room, but
the effect of the hundreds of mirrors—some of which even dangled from the
ceiling—made it look much bigger than it actually was.
Sophie threw back her head and breathed deeply, nostrils flaring. “Do
you smell that?”
Her twin shook his head. The number of mirrors was making him
nervous; he kept catching reflections of himself from all sides, and in every