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TableofContentsAlsoBy1.FunwithSpontaneousCombustion2.WeTameaSeven-Thousand-PoundHummingbird3.TheIceCreamManPlotsOurDeath4.ABirthdayInvitationtoArmageddon5.ILearntoReallyHateDungBeetles6.ABirdbathAlmostKillsMe7.AGiftfromtheDog-headedBoy8.MajorDelaysatWaterlooStation(WeApologizefortheGiantBaboon)9.WeGetaVerticallyChallengedTourofRussia10.AnOldRedFriendComestoVisit11.CarterDoesSomethingIncrediblyStupid(andNoOneIsSurprised)12.IMastertheFineArtofName-Calling13.IGetaDemonUpMyNose14.AttheTombofZiaRashid15.CamelsAreEvil...16....ButNotasEvilasRomans17.MenshikovHiresaHappyDeathSquad18.GamblingonDoomsdayEve19.TheRevengeofBullwinkletheMooseGod20.WeVisittheHouseoftheHelpfulHippo21.WeBuySomeTime22.FriendsintheStrangestPlaces23.WeThrowaWildHouseParty24.IMakeanImpossiblePromiseAuthor'sNoteGlossary

ForConnerandMaggie,theRiordanfamily’sgreatbrother-sisterteam

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PercyJacksonandtheOlympians,BookFour:TheBattleoftheLabyrinthPercyJacksonandtheOlympians,BookFive:TheLastOlympian

TheKaneChronicles,BookOne:TheRedPyramid

TheHeroesofOlympus,BookOne:TheLostHero

WARNING

This isa transcriptofanaudiorecording.CarterandSadieKanefirstmadethemselvesknowninarecordingIreceivedlastyear,whichItranscribedasTheRedPyramid.Thissecondaudiofilearrivedatmyresidenceshortlyafterthatbookwaspublished,soIcanonlyassumetheKanestrustmeenoughtocontinuerelayingtheirstory.Ifthissecondrecordingisatruthfulaccount,theturnofeventscanonlybedescribedasalarming.Forthesakeof theKanes,andfor theworld,Ihopewhat followsisfiction.Otherwiseweareallinveryserioustrouble.

CARTER

1.FunwithSpontaneousCombustion

CARTERHERE.Look,wedon’thavetimeforlongintroductions.Ineedtotellthisstoryquickly,orwe’reallgoing

todie.Ifyoudidn’tlistentoourfirstrecording,well…pleasedtomeetyou:theEgyptiangodsarerunning

aroundlooseinthemodernworld;abunchofmagicianscalledtheHouseofLifeistryingtostopthem;everyonehatesSadieandme;andabigsnakeisabouttoswallowthesunanddestroytheworld.

[Ow!Whatwasthatfor?]Sadiejustpunchedme.ShesaysI’mgoingtoscareyoutoomuch.Ishouldbackup,calmdown,and

startatthebeginning.Fine.Butpersonally,Ithinkyoushouldbescared.Thepointofthisrecordingistoletyouknowwhat’sreallyhappeningandhowthingswentwrong.

You’regoingtohearalotofpeopletalkingtrashaboutus,butwedidn’tcausethosedeaths.Asforthesnake,thatwasn’tourfaulteither.

Well…notexactly.Allthemagiciansintheworldhavetocometogether.It’souronlychance.Sohere’sthestory.Decideforyourself.ItstartedwhenwesetBrooklynonfire.

The job was supposed to be simple: sneak into the BrooklynMuseum, borrow a particular Egyptianartifact,andleavewithoutgettingcaught.

No, it wasn’t robbery.We would have returned the artifact eventually. But I guess we did looksuspicious:fourkidsinblackninjaclothesontheroofofthemuseum.Oh,andababoon,alsodressedlikeaninja.Definitelysuspicious.

Thefirst thingwedidwassendour traineesJazandWalt toopen thesidewindow,whileKhufu,Sadie,andIexaminedthebigglassdomeinthemiddleoftheroof,whichwassupposedtobeourexitstrategy.

Ourexitstrategywasn’tlookingtoogood.Itwaswellafterdark,andthemuseumwassupposedtobeclosed.Instead,theglassdomeglowed

withlight.Inside,fortyfeetbelow,hundredsofpeopleintuxedosandeveninggownsmingledanddancedinaballroomthesizeofanairplanehangar.Anorchestraplayed,butwiththewindhowlinginmyearsandmyteethchattering,Icouldn’thearthemusic.Iwasfreezinginmylinenpajamas.

Magiciansaresupposedtowearlinenbecauseitdoesn’tinterferewithmagic,whichisprobablyagreattraditionintheEgyptiandesert,whereit’shardlyevercoldandrainy.InBrooklyn,inMarch—notsomuch.

Mysister,Sadie,didn’tseembotheredbythecold.Shewasundoingthe locksonthedomewhilehummingalong to somethingonher iPod. Imean, seriously—whobrings their own tunes to amuseumbreak-in?

Shewasdressedinclotheslikemineexceptsheworecombatboots.Herblondhairwasstreakedwithredhighlights—verysubtleforastealthmission.Withherblueeyesandherlightcomplexion,shelookedabsolutelynothinglikeme,whichwebothagreedwasfine.It’salwaysnicetohavetheoptionofdenyingthatthecrazygirlnexttomeismysister.

“Yousaidthemuseumwouldbeempty,”Icomplained.

Sadiedidn’thearmeuntilIpulledoutherearbudsandrepeatedmyself.“Well,itwassupposedtobeempty.”She’lldenythis,butafterlivingintheStatesforthelastthree

months,shewasstarting to loseherBritishaccent.“TheWebsitesaid itclosedat five.HowwasI toknowthere’dbeawedding?”

Awedding?I lookeddownandsawthatSadiewasright.Someof the ladiesworepeach-coloredbridesmaiddresses.Oneofthetableshadamassivetieredwhitecake.Twoseparatemobsofguestshadliftedthebrideandgroomonchairsandwerecarryingthemthroughtheroomwhiletheirfriendsswirledaroundthem,dancingandclapping.Thewholethinglookedlikeahead-onfurniturecollisionwaitingtohappen.

Khufutappedontheglass.Eveninhisblackclothes,itwashardforhimtoblendintotheshadowswithhisgoldenfur,nottomentionhisrainbow-colorednoseandrearend.

“Agh!”hegrunted.Sincehewasababoon, thatcould’vemeantanything fromLook, there’s fooddown there toThis

glassisdirtytoHey,thosepeoplearedoingstupidthingswithchairs.“Khufu’sright,”Sadieinterpreted.“We’llhaveahardtimesneakingoutthroughtheparty.Perhapsif

wepretendwe’reamaintenancecrew—”“Sure,”Isaid.“‘Excuseus.Fourkidscomingthroughwithathree-tonstatue.Justgoingtofloatitup

throughtheroof.Don’tmindus.’”Sadierolledhereyes.Shepulledoutherwand—acurved lengthof ivorycarvedwithpicturesof

monsters—and pointed it at the base of the dome. A golden hieroglyph blazed, and the last padlockpoppedopen.

“Well, ifwe’renotgoingtousethisasanexit,”shesaid,“whyamIopeningit?Couldn’twejustcomeoutthewaywe’regoingin—throughthesidewindow?”

“Itoldyou.Thestatueishuge.Itwon’tfitthroughthesidewindow.Plus,thetraps—”“Tryagaintomorrownight,then?”sheasked.Ishookmyhead.“Tomorrowthewholeexhibitisbeingboxedupandshippedoffontour.”She raised her eyebrows in that annoying way she has. “Perhaps if someone had given usmore

noticethatweneededtostealthisstatue—”“Forgetit.”Icouldtellwherethisconversationwasgoing,anditwasn’tgoingtohelpifSadieandI

argued on the roof all night. She was right, of course. I hadn’t given her much notice. But, hey—mysourcesweren’texactlyreliable.Afterweeksofaskingforhelp,I’dfinallygottenatipfrommybuddythefalconwargodHorus,speakinginmydreams:Oh,bytheway,thatartifactyouwanted?Theonethatmightholdthekeytosavingtheplanet?It’sbeensittingdownthestreetintheBrooklynMuseumforthelastthirtyyears,buttomorrowitleavesforEurope,soyou’dbetterhurry!You’llhavefivedaystofigureouthowtouseit,orwe’realldoomed.Goodluck!

Icould’vescreamedathimfornottellingmesooner,butitwouldn’thavemadeanydifference.Godsonlytalkwhenthey’reready,andtheydon’thaveagoodsenseofmortaltime.IknewthisbecauseHorushad shared space in my head a few months ago. I still had some of his antisocial habits—like theoccasionalurgetohuntsmallfurryrodentsorchallengepeopletothedeath.

“Let’sjuststicktotheplan,”Sadiesaid.“Gointhroughthesidewindow,findthestatue,andfloatitout through the ballroom.We’ll figure out how to deal with the wedding party whenwe get that far.Maybecreateadiversion.”

Ifrowned.“Adiversion?”“Carter,youworrytoomuch,”shesaid.“It’llbebrilliant.Unlessyouhaveanotheridea?”Theproblemwas—Ididn’t.You’dthinkmagicwouldmakethingseasier.Infact,itusuallymadethingsmorecomplicated.There

werealwaysamillionreasonswhythisorthatspellwouldn’tworkincertainsituations.Orthere’dbe

othermagicthwartingyou—liketheprotectivespellsonthismuseum.Weweren’tsurewhohadcast them.Maybeoneof themuseumstaffwasanundercovermagician,

whichwouldn’thavebeenuncommon.OurowndadhadusedhisPh.D.inEgyptologyasacovertogainaccesstoartifacts.Plus,theBrooklynMuseumhasthelargestcollectionofEgyptianmagicscrollsintheworld.That’swhyouruncleAmoshad locatedhisheadquarters inBrooklyn.A lotofmagiciansmighthavereasonstoguardorbooby-trapthemuseum’streasures.

Whateverthecase,thedoorsandwindowshadsomeprettynastycursesonthem.Wecouldn’topenamagicportalintotheexhibit,norcouldweuseourretrievalshabti—themagicalclaystatuesthatservedusinourlibrary—tobringustheartifactweneeded.

We’dhavetogetinandgetoutthehardway;andifwemadeamistake,therewasnotellingwhatsortofcursewe’dunleash:monsterguardians,plagues,fires,explodingdonkeys(don’tlaugh;they’rebadnews).

Theonly exit thatwasn’t booby-trappedwas thedomeat the topof theballroom.Apparently themuseum’sguardianshadn’tbeenworriedaboutthieveslevitatingartifactsoutofanopeningfortyfeetintheair.Ormaybethedomewastrapped,anditwasjusttoowellhiddenforustosee.

Eitherway,wehadtotry.Weonlyhadtonighttosteal—sorry,borrow—theartifact.Thenwehadfivedaystofigureouthowtouseit.Ijustlovedeadlines.

“Sowepushonandimprovise?”Sadieasked.Ilookeddownattheweddingparty,hopingweweren’tabouttoruintheirspecialnight.“Guessso.”“Lovely,”Sadiesaid.“Khufu,stayhereandkeepwatch.Openthedomewhenyouseeuscomingup,

yeah?”“Agh!”saidthebaboon.Thebackofmynecktingled.Ihadafeelingthisheistwasnotgoingtobelovely.“Comeon,”ItoldSadie.“Let’sseehowJazandWaltaredoing.”Wedroppedtotheledgeoutsidethethirdfloor,whichhousedtheEgyptiancollection.JazandWalthaddonetheirworkperfectly.They’dduct-tapedfourSonsofHorusstatuesaroundthe

edgesofthewindowandpaintedhieroglyphsontheglasstocounteractthecursesandthemortalalarmsystem.

AsSadieandIlandednexttothem,theyseemedtobeinthemiddleofaseriousconversation.JazwasholdingWalt’shands.That surprisedme,but it surprisedSadieevenmore.Shemadeasqueakingsoundlikeamousegettingsteppedon.

[Ohyes,youdid.Iwasthere.]WhywouldSadiecare?Okay, rightafterNewYear’s,whenSadieandI sentoutourdjed amulet

beacontoattractkidswithmagicpotentialtoourheadquarters,JazandWalthadbeenthefirsttorespond.They’dbeentrainingwithusforsevenweeks,longerthananyoftheotherkids,sowe’dgottentoknowthemprettywell.

JazwasacheerleaderfromNashville.HernamewasshortforJasmine,butdon’tevercallherthatunlessyouwanttogetturnedintoashrub.Shewasprettyinablondcheerleaderkindofway—notreallymytype—butyoucouldn’thelplikingherbecauseshewasnicetoeveryoneandalwaysreadytohelp.Shehadatalentforhealingmagic,too,soshewasagreatpersontobringalongincasesomethingwentwrong,whichhappenedwithSadieandmeaboutninety-ninepercentofthetime.

Tonightshe’dcoveredherhairinablackbandanna.Slungacrosshershoulderwashermagician’sbag,markedwiththesymboloftheliongoddessSekhmet.

ShewasjusttellingWalt,“We’llfigureitout,”whenSadieandIdroppeddownnexttothem.Waltlookedembarrassed.Hewas…well,howdoIdescribeWalt?[Nothanks,Sadie.I’mnotgoingtodescribehimashot.Waityourturn.]

Waltwasfourteen,sameasme,buthewastallenoughtoplayvarsityforward.Hehadtherightbuildfor it—lean and muscular—and the dude’s feet were huge. His skin was coffee-bean brown, a littledarkerthanmine,andhishairwasbuzzcutsothatitlookedlikeashadowonhisscalp.Despitethecold,hewasdressedinablacksleevelessteeandworkoutshorts—notstandardmagicianclothes—butnobodyarguedwithWalt.He’dbeenour first trainee to arrive—all theway fromSeattle—and the guywas anaturalsau—acharmmaker.Heworeabunchofgoldneckchainswithmagicamuletshe’dmadehimself.

Anyway, Iwas pretty sure Sadiewas jealous of Jaz and likedWalt, though she’d never admit itbecauseshe’dspentthelastfewmonthsmopingaboutanotherguy—actuallyagod—shehadacrushon.

[Yeah,fine,Sadie.I’lldropitfornow.ButInoticeyou’renotdenyingit.]Whenwe interrupted their conversation,Walt let go of Jaz’s hands real quick and stepped away.

Sadie’seyesmovedbackandforthbetweenthem,tryingtofigureoutwhatwasgoingon.Waltclearedhisthroat.“Window’sready.”“Brilliant.”SadielookedatJaz.“Whatdidyoumean,‘We’llfigureitout’?”Jazflappedhermouthlikeafishtryingtobreathe.Waltansweredforher:“Youknow.TheBookofRa.We’llfigureitout.”“Yes!”Jazsaid.“TheBookofRa.”Icould tell theywere lying,but I figured itwasnoneofmybusiness if they likedeachother.We

didn’thavetimefordrama.“Okay,”IsaidbeforeSadiecoulddemandabetterexplanation.“Let’sstartthefun.”Thewindowswungopeneasily.Nomagicexplosions.Noalarms. Ibreatheda sighof relief and

steppedintotheEgyptianwing,wonderingifmaybewehadashotatpullingthisoff,afterall.

The Egyptian artifacts brought back all kinds of memories. Until last year, I’d spent most of my lifetravelingaroundtheworldwithmydadashewentfrommuseumtomuseum,lecturingonAncientEgypt.Thatwas before I knew hewas amagician—before he unleashed a bunch of gods, and our lives gotcomplicated.

NowIcouldn’t lookatEgyptianartworkwithoutfeelingapersonalconnection. IshudderedwhenwepassedastatueofHorus—thefalcon-headedgodwho’dinhabitedmybodylastChristmas.Wewalkedbyasarcophagus,andIrememberedhowtheevilgodSethadimprisonedourfatherinagoldencoffinattheBritishMuseum.Everywhere therewerepicturesofOsiris, theblue-skinnedgodof thedead,andIthoughtabouthowDadhadsacrificedhimselftobecomeOsiris’snewhost.Rightnow,somewhereinthemagicrealmoftheDuat,ourdadwasthekingoftheunderworld.Ican’tevendescribehowweirditfeltseeingafive-thousand-year-oldpaintingofsomeblueEgyptiangodandthinking,“Yep,that’smydad.”

All the artifacts seemed like familymementos: awand just like Sadie’s; a picture of the serpentleopards that had once attacked us; a page from the Book of the Dead showing demonswe’dmet inperson.Thenthereweretheshabti,magicalfigurinesthatweresupposedtocometolifewhensummoned.Afewmonthsago,I’dfallenforagirlnamedZiaRashid,who’dturnedouttobeashabti.

Falling in love for the first timehadbeenhardenough.Butwhen thegirlyou like turnsout tobeceramicandcrackstopiecesbeforeyoureyes—well,itgives“breakingyourheart”anewmeaning.

Wemade ourway through the first room, passing under a bigEgyptian-style zodiacmural on theceiling.Icouldhearthecelebrationgoingoninthegrandballroomdownthehallwaytoourright.Musicandlaughterechoedthroughthebuilding.

InthesecondEgyptianroom,westoppedinfrontofastonefriezethesizeofagaragedoor.Chiseledintotherockwasapictureofamonstertramplingsomehumans.

“Isthatagriffin?”Jazasked.Inodded.“TheEgyptianversion,yeah.”Theanimalhadalion’sbodyandtheheadofafalcon,butitswingsweren’tlikemostgriffinpictures

yousee.Insteadofbirdwings,themonster’swingsranacrossthetopofitsback—long,horizontal,andbristlylikeapairofupside-downsteelbrushes.Ifthemonstercould’veflownwiththosethingsatall,Ifiguredtheymust’vemovedlikeabutterfly’swings.Thefriezehadoncebeenpainted.Icouldmakeoutflecksofredandgoldonthecreature’shide;butevenwithoutcolor,thegriffinlookedeerilylifelike.Itsbeadyeyesseemedtofollowme.

“Griffinswereprotectors,”Isaid,rememberingsomethingmydadhadoncetoldme.“Theyguardedtreasuresandstuff.”

“Fab,”Sadie said. “Soyoumean theyattacked…oh, thieves, for instance, breaking intomuseumsandstealingartifacts?”

“It’s justa frieze,” I said.But Idoubt thatmadeanyone feelbetter.Egyptianmagicwasall aboutturningwordsandpicturesintoreality.

“There.”Waltpointedacrosstheroom.“That’sit,right?”Wemadeawidearcaroundthegriffinandwalkedovertoastatueinthecenteroftheroom.Thegodstoodabouteightfeettall.HewascarvedfromblackstoneanddressedintypicalEgyptian

style:bare-chested,withakiltandsandals.Hehadthefaceofaramandhornsthathadpartiallybrokenoffover thecenturies.OnhisheadwasaFrisbee-shapedcrown—asundisk,braidedwithserpents.Infront of him stood amuch smaller human figure.Thegodwasholdinghis handsover the little dude’shead,asthoughgivinghimablessing.

Sadiesquintedatthehieroglyphicinscription.Eversinceshe’dhostedthespiritofIsis,goddessofmagic,Sadiehadhadanuncannyabilitytoreadhieroglyphs.

“KNM,”sheread.“That’dbepronouncedKhnum,Isuppose.Rhymeswithka-boom?”“Yeah,”Iagreed.“Thisisthestatueweneed.HorustoldmeitholdsthesecrettofindingtheBookof

Ra.”Unfortunately,Horushadn’tbeenveryspecific.Nowthatwe’dfoundthestatue,Ihadabsolutelyno

ideahowitwassupposedtohelpus.Iscannedthehieroglyphs,hopingforaclue.“Who’sthelittleguyinfront?”Waltasked.“Achild?”Jazsnappedherfingers.“No,Irememberthis!Khnummadehumansonapotter’swheel.That’swhat

he’sdoinghere,Ibet—formingahumanoutofclay.”Shelookedatmeforconfirmation.Thetruthwas,I’dforgottenthatstorymyself.SadieandIwere

supposedtobetheteachers,butJazoftenrememberedmoredetailsthanIdid.“Yeah,good,”Isaid.“Manoutofclay.Exactly.”SadiefrownedupatKhnum’sramhead.“Looksabitlikethatoldcartoon…Bullwinkle,isit?Could

bethemoosegod.”“He’snotthemoosegod,”Isaid.“But if we’re looking for the Book of Ra,” she said, “and Ra’s the sun god, then why are we

searchingamoose?”Sadiecanbeannoying.DidImentionthat?“Khnumwasoneaspectofthesungod,”Isaid.“Rahadthreedifferentpersonalities.HewasKhepri

the scarabgod in themorning;Raduring theday; andKhnum, the ram-headedgod, at sunset,whenhewentintotheunderworld.”

“That’sconfusing,”Jazsaid.“Notreally,”Sadiesaid.“Carterhasdifferentpersonalities.Hegoesfromzombieinthemorningtoslugintheafternoonto—”“Sadie,”Isaid,“shutup.”Waltscratchedhischin.“IthinkSadie’sright.It’samoose.”“Thankyou,”Sadiesaid.Waltgaveheragrudgingsmile,buthestilllookedpreoccupied,likesomethingwasbotheringhim.I

caught Jaz studying him with a worried expression, and I wondered what they’d been talking aboutearlier.

“Enoughwiththemoose,”Isaid.“We’vegottogetthisstatuebacktoBrooklynHouse.Itholdssomesortofclue—”

“Buthowdowefindit?”Waltasked.“Andyoustillhaven’ttolduswhyweneedthisBookofRasobadly.”

Ihesitated.Therewerealotofthingswehadn’ttoldourtraineesyet,notevenWaltandJaz—likehowtheworldmightendinfivedays.Thatkindofthingcandistractyoufromyourtraining.

“I’llexplainwhenwegetback,”Ipromised.“Rightnow,let’sfigureouthowtomovethestatue.”Jazknittedhereyebrows.“Idon’tthinkit’sgoingtofitinmybag.”“Oh,suchworrying,”Sadiesaid.“Look,wecastalevitationspellonthestatue.Wecreatesomebig

diversiontocleartheballroom—”“Holdup.”Waltleanedforwardandexaminedthesmallerhumanfigure.Thelittledudewassmiling,

likebeingfashionedoutofclaywasawesomefun.“He’swearinganamulet.Ascarab.”“It’sacommonsymbol,”Isaid.“Yeah…”Waltfingeredhisowncollectionofamulets.“ButthescarabisasymbolofRa’srebirth,

right?AndthisstatueshowsKhnumcreatinganewlife.Maybewedon’tneedtheentirestatue.Maybetheclueis—”

“Ah!”Sadiepulledoutherwand.“Brilliant.”Iwasabouttosay,“Sadie,no!”butofcoursethatwould’vebeenpointless.Sadieneverlistensto

me.Shetappedthelittledude’samulet.Khnum’shandsglowed.Thesmallerstatue’sheadpeeledopenin

foursectionslikethetopofamissilesilo,andstickingoutofitsneckwasayellowedpapyrusscroll.“Voilà,”Sadiesaidproudly.SheslippedherwandintoherbagandgrabbedthescrolljustasIshouted,“Itmightbetrapped!”LikeIsaid,sheneverlistens.Assoonasshepluckedthescrollfromthestatue,theentireroomrumbled.Cracksappearedinthe

glassdisplaycases.Sadieyelpedasthescrollinherhandburstintoflames.Theydidn’tseemtoconsumethepapyrusor

hurtSadie;butwhenshetriedtoshakeoutthefire,ghostlywhiteflamesleapedtothenearestdisplaycaseandracedaroundtheroomas if followinga trailofgasoline.Thefire touchedthewindowsandwhitehieroglyphsignitedontheglass,probablytriggeringatonofprotectivewardsandcurses.Thentheghostfirerippledacrossthebigfriezeattheentranceoftheroom.Thestoneslabshookviolently.Icouldn’tseethecarvingsontheotherside,butIheardaraspyscream—likeareallylarge,reallyangryparrot.

Waltslippedhisstaffoffhisback.Sadiewavedtheflamingscrollas if itwerestucktoherhand.“Getthisthingoffme!

Thisissonotmyfault!”“Um…”Jazpulledherwand.“Whatwasthatsound?”Myheartsank.“Ithink,”Isaid,“Sadiejustfoundherbigdiversion.”

CARTER

2.WeTameaSeven-Thousand-PoundHummingbird

AFEWMONTHSAGO,thingswould’vebeendifferent.Sadiecould’vespokenasinglewordandcausedamilitary-grade explosion. I could’ve encased myself in a magical combat avatar, and almost nothingwould’vebeenabletodefeatme.

Butthatwaswhenwewerefullymergedwiththegods—Horusforme,IsisforSadie.We’dgivenupthat power because it was simply too dangerous. Until we had better control of our own abilities,embodyingEgyptiangodscouldmakeusgocrazyorliterallyburnusup.

Nowallwehadwasourownlimitedmagic.Thatmadeithardertodoimportantstuff—likesurvivewhenamonstercametolifeandwantedtokillus.

Thegriffinsteppedintofullview.Itwastwicethesizeofaregularlion,itsreddish-goldfurcoatedwith limestonedust. Its tailwas studdedwith spiky feathers that lookedashardandsharpasdaggers.Withasingleflick,itpulverizedthestoneslabithadcomefrom.Itsbristlywingswerenowstraightuponits back.When the griffinmoved, they fluttered so fast, they blurred and buzzed like thewings of theworld’slargest,mostvicioushummingbird.

ThegriffinfixeditshungryeyesonSadie.Whiteflamesstillengulfedherhandandthescroll,andthegriffin seemed to take that as somekindof challenge. I’d heard a lot of falcon cries—hey, I’dbeen afalcononceortwice—butwhenthisthingopeneditsbeak,itletlooseascreechthatrattledthewindowsandsetmyhaironend.

“Sadie,”Isaid,“dropthescroll.”“Hello?It’sstucktomyhand!”sheprotested.“AndI’monfire!DidImentionthat?”Patchesofghostfirewereburningacrossallthewindowsandartifactsnow.Thescrollseemedto

havetriggeredeveryreservoirofEgyptianmagicintheroom,andIwasprettysurethatwasbad.WaltandJazstoodfrozeninshock.IsupposeIcouldn’tblamethem.Thiswastheirfirstrealmonster.

Thegriffintookasteptowardmysister.IstoodshouldertoshoulderwithheranddidtheonemagictrickIstillhaddown.Ireachedintothe

Duat and pulledmy sword out of thin air—anEgyptian khopeshwith awickedly sharp, hook-shapedblade.

Sadielookedprettysillywithherhandandscrollonfire,likeanoverenthusiasticStatueofLiberty,butwithherfreehandshemanagedtosummonhermainoffensiveweapon—afive-foot-longstaffcarvedwithhieroglyphs.

Sadieasked,“Anyhintsonfightinggriffins?”“Avoidthesharpparts?”Iguessed.“Brilliant.Thanksforthat.”“Walt,”Icalled.“Checkthosewindows.Seeifyoucanopenthem.”“B-butthey’recursed.”“Yes,”Isaid.“Andifwetrytoexitthroughtheballroom,thegriffinwilleatusbeforewegetthere.”“I’llcheckthewindows.”“Jaz,”Isaid,“helpWalt.”“Thosemarkingsontheglass,”Jazmuttered.“I—I’veseenthembefore—”

“Justdoit!”Isaid.Thegriffin lunged, itswingsbuzzinglikechainsaws.Sadie threwherstaff,anditmorphedintoa

tigerinmidair,slammingintothegriffinwithitsclawsunsheathed.The griffin was not impressed. It knocked the tiger aside, then lashed out with unnatural speed,

openingitsbeakimpossiblywide.SNAP.Thegriffingulpedandburped,andthetigerwasgone.“Thatwasmyfavoritestaff!”Sadiecried.Thegriffinturneditseyesonme.Igrippedmy sword tight.Thebladebegan toglow. Iwished I still hadHorus’svoice insidemy

head,eggingmeon.Havingapersonalwargodmakesiteasiertodostupidlybravethings.“Walt!”Icalled.“How’sitcomingwiththatwindow?”“Tryingitnow,”hesaid.“H-holdon,”Jazsaidnervously.“ThosearesymbolsofSekhmet.Walt,stop!”Thena lotof thingshappenedatonce.Waltopened thewindow,andawaveofwhite fire roared

overhim,knockinghimtothefloor.Jazrantohisside.Thegriffinimmediatelylostinterestinme.Likeanygoodpredator,itfocusedon

themovingtarget—Jaz—andlungedather.Ichargedafterit.Butinsteadofsnappingupourfriends,thegriffinsoaredstraightoverWaltandJaz

andslammedintothewindow.JazpulledWaltoutofthewaywhilethegriffinwentcrazy,thrashingandbitingatthewhiteflames.

Itwastryingtoattackthefire.Thegriffinsnappedattheair.Itspun,knockingoveradisplaycaseofshabti.Itstailsmashedasarcophagustopieces.

I’mnotsurewhatpossessedme,butIyelled,“Stopit!”Thegriffinfroze.Itturnedtowardme,cawinginirritation.Acurtainofwhitefireracedawayand

burnedinthecorneroftheroom,almostlikeitwasregrouping.ThenInoticedotherfirescomingtogether,formingburningshapesthatwerevaguelyhuman.Onelookedrightatme,andIsensedanunmistakableauraofmalice.

“Carter, keep its attention.” Sadie apparently hadn’t noticed the fiery shapes.Her eyeswere stillfixedonthegriffinasshepulledalengthofmagictwinefromherpocket.“IfIcanjustgetcloseenough—”

“Sadie,wait.”Itriedtoprocesswhatwasgoingon.Waltwasflatonhisback,shivering.Hiseyeswereglowingwhite,asifthefirehadgotteninsidehim.Jazkneltoverhim,mutteringahealingspell.

“RAAAWK!”Thegriffincroakedplaintivelyasifaskingpermission—asifitwasobeyingmyordertostop,butdidn’tlikeit.

Thefieryshapesweregettingbrighter,moresolid.Icountedsevenblazingfigures,slowlyforminglegsandarms.

Seven figures…Jazhad said somethingabout the symbolsofSekhmet.Dread settledovermeas Irealized what kind of curse was really protecting the museum. The griffin’s release had just beenaccidental.Itwasn’ttherealproblem.

Sadiethrewhertwine.“Wait!”Iyelled,butitwastoolate.Themagictwinewhippedthroughtheair,elongatingintoarope

asitracedtowardthegriffin.Thegriffinsquawkedindignantlyandleapedafterthefieryshapes.Thefirecreaturesscattered,and

agameoftotalannihilationtagwason.The griffin buzzed around the room, its wings humming. Display cases shattered.Mortal alarms

blared.Iyelledatthegriffintostop,butthistimeitdidnogood.Outofthecornerofmyeye,IsawJazcollapse,maybefromthestrainofherhealingspell.“Sadie!”Iyelled.“Helpher!”

SadierantoJaz’sside.Ichasedthegriffin.Iprobablylookedlikeatotalfoolinmyblackpajamaswithmyglowingsword,trippingoverbrokenartifactsandscreamingordersatagianthummingbird-cat.

JustwhenIthoughtthingscouldn’tgetanyworse,halfadozenpartyguestscamearoundthecornertoseewhatthenoisewasabout.Theirmouthsfellopen.Aladyinapeach-coloreddressscreamed.

Thesevenwhitefirecreaturesshotstraightthroughtheweddingguests,whoinstantlycollapsed.Thefireskeptgoing,whippingaroundthecornertowardtheballroom.Thegriffinflewafterthem.

IglancedbackatSadie,whowaskneelingoverJazandWalt.“Howarethey?”“Waltiscomingaround,”shesaid,“butJazisoutcold.”“Followmewhenyoucan.IthinkIcancontrolthegriffin.”“Carter, are youmad? Our friends are hurt and I’ve got a flaming scroll stuck to my hand. The

window’sopen.HelpmegetJazandWaltoutofhere!”Shehadapoint.Thismightbeouronlychance togetour friendsoutalive.But Ialsoknewwhat

thosesevenfireswerenow,andIknewthatifIdidn’tgoafterthem,alotofinnocentpeopleweregoingtogethurt.

Imuttered anEgyptian curse—the cussing kind, not themagic kind—and ran to join theweddingparty.

Themainballroomwas in chaos.Guestswere runningeverywhere, screamingandknockingovertables.Aguyinatuxedohadfallenintotheweddingcakeandwascrawlingaroundwithaplasticbride-and-groomdecorationstucktohisrear.Amusicianwastryingtorunawaywithasnaredrumonhisfoot.

Thewhite fires had solidified enough so that I couldmake out their forms—somewhere betweencanineandhuman,withelongatedarmsandcrookedlegs.Theyglowedlikesuperheatedgasastheyracedthroughtheballroom,circlingthepillars thatsurroundedthedancefloor.Onepassedstraight throughabridesmaid.Thelady’seyesturnedmilkywhite,andshecrumpledtothefloor,shiveringandcoughing.

Ifeltlikecurlingintoaballmyself.Ididn’tknowanyspellsthatcouldfightthesethings,andifoneofthemtouchedme…

Suddenlythegriffinswoopeddownoutofnowhere,followedcloselybySadie’smagicrope,whichwasstilltryingtobindit.Thegriffinsnappeduponeofthefirecreaturesinasinglegulpandkeptflying.Wispsofsmokecameoutofitsnostrils,butotherwise,eatingthewhitefiredidn’tseemtobotherit.

“Hey!”Iyelled.Toolate,Irealizedmymistake.Thegriffin turned towardme,which slowed it down just enough forSadie’smagic rope towrap

arounditsbacklegs.“SQUAWWWWK!”Thegriffincrashedintoabuffettable.Theropegrewlonger,windingaroundthe

monster’sbodywhileitshigh-speedwingsshreddedthetable,thefloor,andplatesofsandwicheslikeanout-of-controlwoodchipper.

Wedding guests began clearing the ballroom. Most ran for the elevators, but dozens wereunconsciousorshakinginfits,theireyesglowingwhite.Otherswerestuckunderpilesofdebris.Alarmswereblaring,andthewhitefires—sixofthemnow—werestillcompletelyoutofcontrol.

Irantowardthegriffin,whichwasrollingaround,tryinginvaintobiteattherope.“Calmdown!”Iyelled.“Letmehelpyou,stupid!”

“FREEEEK!”Thegriffin’stailsweptovermyheadandjustmisseddecapitatingme.Itookadeepbreath.Iwasmostlyacombatmagician.I’dneverbeengoodathieroglyphspells,butI

pointedmyswordatthemonsterandsaid:“Ha-tep.”Agreenhieroglyph—thesymbolforBeatpeace—burnedintheair,rightatthetipofmyblade:

Thegriffinstoppedthrashing.Thebuzzingofitswingsslowed.Chaosandscreamingstillfilledtheballroom,butItriedtostaycalmasIapproachedthemonster.

“Yourecognizeme,don’tyou?”Iheldoutmyhand,andanothersymbolblazedabovemypalm—asymbolIcouldalwayssummon,theEyeofHorus:

“You’reasacredanimalofHorus,aren’tyou?That’swhyyouobeyme.”Thegriffinblinkedat thewargod’smark. It ruffled itsneck feathers and squawked incomplaint,

squirmingundertheropethatwasslowlywrappingarounditsbody.“Yeah,Iknow,”Isaid.“Mysister’saloser.Justhangon.I’lluntieyou.”Somewherebehindme,Sadieyelled,“Carter!”IturnedandsawherandWaltstumblingtowardme,half-carryingJazbetweenthem.Sadiewasstill

doingherStatueofLibertyimpression,holdingtheflamingscrollinonehand.Waltwasonhisfeetandhiseyesweren’tglowinganymore,butJazwasslumpedoverlikeallthebonesinherbodyhadturnedtojelly.

They dodged a fiery spirit and a few crazy wedding guests and somehow made it across theballroom.

Waltstaredthegriffin.“Howdidyoucalmitdown?”“GriffinsareservantsofHorus,”Isaid.“Theypulledhischariotinbattle.Ithinkitrecognizedmy

connectiontohim.”Thegriffinshriekedimpatientlyandthrasheditstail,knockingoverastonecolumn.“Notverycalm,”Sadienoticed.Sheglancedupattheglassdome,fortyfeetabove,wherethetiny

figureofKhufuwaswavingatusfrantically.“WeneedtogetJazoutofherenow,”shesaid.“I’mfine,”Jazmuttered.“No,you’renot,”Waltsaid.“Carter,shegotthatspiritoutofme,butitalmostkilledher.It’ssome

kindofsicknessdemon—”“Abau,”Isaid.“Anevilspirit.Thesesevenarecalled—”“TheArrows of Sekhmet,” Jaz said, confirmingmy fears. “They’re plague spirits, born from the

goddess.Icanstopthem.”“Youcanrest,”Sadiesaid.“Right,”Isaid.“Sadie,getthisropeoffthegriffinand—”“There’snotime.”Jazpointed.Thebauweregettinglargerandbrighter.Moreweddingguestswere

fallingasthespiritswhippedaroundtheroomunchallenged.“They’lldieifIdon’tstopthebau,”Jazsaid.“IcanchannelthepowerofSekhmetandforcethem

backtotheDuat.It’swhatI’vebeentrainingfor.”Ihesitated.Jazhadnevertriedsuchalargespell.ShewasalreadyweakfromhealingWalt.Butshe

wastrainedforthis.ItmightseemstrangethathealersstudiedthepathofSekhmet,butsinceSekhmetwasthegoddessofdestruction,plagues,andfamine,itmadesensethathealerswouldlearnhowtocontrolherforces—includingbau.

Besides,evenifIfreedthegriffin,Iwasn’tonehundredpercentsureIcouldcontrolit.Therewasadecentchanceitwouldgetexcitedandgobbleusupratherthanthespirits.

Outside,policesirensweregettinglouder.Wewererunningoutoftime.“We’vegotnochoice,”Jazinsisted.Shepulledherwandandthen—muchtomysister’sshock—gaveWaltakissonthecheek.“It’llbe

okay,Walt.Don’tgiveup.”Jaz tooksomethingelsefromhermagician’sbag—awaxfigurine—andpressed it intomysister’s

freehand.“You’llneedthissoon,Sadie.I’msorryIcan’thelpyoumore.You’llknowwhattodowhenthetimecomes.”

Idon’tthinkI’deverseenSadieatsuchalossforwords.Jazrantothecenteroftheballroomandtouchedherwandtothefloor,drawingacircleofprotection

aroundher feet.Fromherbagsheproducedasmall statueofSekhmet,herpatrongoddess,andheld italoft.

She began to chant. Red light glowed around her. Tendrils of energy spread out from the circle,fillingtheroomlikethebranchesofa tree.Thetendrilsbegantoswirl,slowlyatfirst, thenpickingupspeeduntil themagiccurrenttuggedat thebau, forcingthemtoflyinthesamedirection,drawingthemtowardthecenter.Thespiritshowled, tryingtofight thespell.Jazstaggered,butshekeptchanting,herfacebeadedwithsweat.

“Can’twehelpher?”Waltasked.“RAWWWWK!”thegriffincried,whichprobablymeant,Helloooo!I’mstillhere!Thesirenssoundedliketheywererightoutsidethebuildingnow.Downthehallneartheelevators,

someonewasshoutingintoamegaphone,orderingthelastwaveofweddinggueststoexitthebuilding—liketheyneededencouragement.Thepolicehadarrived,andifwegotarrested,thissituationwasgoingtobedifficulttoexplain.

“Sadie,”Isaid,“getreadytodispeltheropeonthegriffin.Walt,youstillgotyourboatamulet?”“My—?Yeah.Butthere’snowater.”“Justsummontheboat!”Idugthroughmypocketsandfoundmyownmagictwine.Ispokeacharm

andwassuddenlyholdingaropeabouttwentyfeetlong.Imadealooseslipknotinthemiddle,likeahugenecktie,andcarefullyapproachedthegriffin.

“I’mjustgoingtoputthisaroundyourneck,”Isaid.“Don’tfreak.”“FREEEEK!”thegriffinsaid.Isteppedcloser,consciousofhowfastthatbeakcouldsnapmeupifitwantedto,butImanagedto

looptheropearoundthegriffin’sneck.Then somethingwentwrong. Time slowed down.The red swirling tendrils of Jaz’s spellmoved

sluggishly,liketheairhadturnedtosyrup.Thescreamsandsirensfadedtoadistantroar.Youwon’tsucceed,avoicehissed.Iturnedandfoundmyselfface-to-facewithabau.Ithoveredintheairafewinchesaway,itsfierywhitefeaturesalmostcomingintofocus.Itseemed

tosmile,andIcouldswearI’dseenitsfacebefore.Chaosistoopowerful,boy,itsaid.Theworldspinsbeyondyourcontrol.Giveupyourquest!“Shutup,”Imurmured,butmyheartwaspounding.You’llneverfindher,thespirittaunted.ShesleepsinthePlaceofRedSand,butshewilldiethere

ifyoufollowyourpointlessquest.Ifeltlikeatarantulawascrawlingdownmyback.ThespiritwastalkingaboutZiaRashid—thereal

Zia,whoI’dbeensearchingforsinceChristmas.“No,”Isaid.“You’reademon,adeceiver.”Youknowbetter,boy.We’vemetbefore.“Shutup!”IsummonedtheEyeofHorus,andthespirithissed.Timespedupagain.Theredtendrils

ofJaz’sspellwrappedaroundthebauandpulleditscreamingintothevortex.Nooneelseseemedtohavenoticedwhatjusthappened.Sadiewasplayingdefense,swattingatbauwithherflamingscrollwhenevertheygotclose.Waltset

hisboat amuleton thegroundand spoke the commandword. In amatterof seconds, likeoneof those

crazyexpand-in-waterspongetoys,theamuletgrewintoafull-sizeEgyptianreedboat,lyingacrosstheruinsofthebuffettable.

Withshakinghands,I tookthetwoendsof thegriffin’snewnecktieandtiedoneendto theboat’sprowandonetothestern.

“Carter,look!”Sadiecalled.Iturnedintimetoseeaflashofblindingredlight.Theentirevortexcollapsedinward,suckingall

sixbauintoJaz’scircle.Thelightdied.Jazfainted,herwandandtheSekhmetstatuebothcrumblingtodustinherhands.

Werantoher.Herclothesweresteaming.Icouldn’ttellifshewasbreathing.“Getherintotheboat,”Isaid.“Wehavetogetoutofhere.”Iheardatinygruntfromfarabove.Khufuhadopenedthedome.Hegesturedurgentlyassearchlights

swepttheskyabovehim.Themuseumwasprobablysurroundedbyemergencyvehicles.Allaroundtheballroom,afflictedguestswerestartingtoregainconsciousness.Jazhadsavedthem,

butatwhatcost?Wecarriedhertotheboatandclimbedin.“Holdontight,”Iwarned.“Thisthingisnotbalanced.Ifitflips—”“Hey!”adeepmalevoiceyelledbehindus.“Whatareyou—Hey!Stop!”“Sadie,rope,now!”Isaid.Shesnappedherfingers,andtheropeentanglingthegriffindissolved.“GO!”Ishouted.“UP!”“FREEEEK!”Thegriffinrevveditswings.Welurchedintotheair,theboatrockingcrazily,andshot

straightfortheopendome.Thegriffinbarelyseemedtonoticeourextraweight.Itascendedsofast,Khufuhadtomakeaflyingleaptogetonboard.Ipulledhimintotheboat,andweheldondesperately,tryingnottocapsize.

“Agh!”Khufucomplained.“Yeah,”Iagreed.“Somuchforaneasyjob.”Thenagain,weweretheKanefamily.Thiswastheeasiestdayweweregoingtohaveforquitea

while.Somehow,ourgriffinknew the rightway togo.He screamed in triumphand soared into thecold

rainynight.Asweflewtowardhome,Sadie’sscrollburnedbrighter.WhenIlookeddown,ghostlywhitefireswereblazingacrosseveryrooftopinBrooklyn.

Ibegantowonderexactlywhatwe’dstolen—ifitwaseventherightobject,orifitwouldmakeourproblemsworse.Eitherway,Ihadafeelingwe’dfinallypushedourlucktoofar.

SADIE

3.TheIceCreamManPlotsOurDeath

ODDHOWEASILYYOUCANFORGETyourhandisonfire.Oh,sorry.Sadie,here.Youdidn’tthinkI’dletmybrotherprattleonforever,didyou?Please,noone

deservesacursethathorrible.Wearrivedback atBrooklynHouse, and everyone swarmedmebecausemyhandwas stuck to a

flamingscroll.“I’mfine!”Iinsisted.“TakecareofJaz!”Honestly, I appreciate a bit of attention nowand then, but Iwas hardly themost interesting thing

happening. We’d landed on the roof of the mansion, which itself is an odd attraction—a five-storylimestone-and-steelcube, likeacrossbetweenanEgyptiantempleandanartmuseum,perchedatopanabandonedwarehouseontheBrooklynwaterfront.Nottomentionthatthemansionshimmerswithmagicandisinvisibletoregularmortals.

Belowus,thewholeofBrooklynwasonfire.Myannoyingmagicscrollhadpaintedawideswathofghostlyflamesovertheboroughaswe’dflownfromthemuseum.Nothingwasactuallyburning,andtheflames weren’t hot; but we’d still caused quite a panic. Sirens wailed. People clogged the streets,gawkingupattheblazingrooftops.Helicopterscircledwithsearchlights.

Ifthatwasn’texcitingenough,mybrotherwaswranglingagriffin,tryingtountieafishingboatfromarounditsneckandkeepthebeastfromeatingourtrainees.

Then therewas Jaz,our real cause for concern.We’ddetermined shewas still breathing,but sheseemedtobeinsomesortofcoma.Whenweopenedhereyes,theywereglowingwhite—typicallynotagoodsign.

During the boat ride,Khufu had attempted someof his famous baboonmagic on her—patting herforehead,makingrudenoises,andtryingtoinsertjellybeansintohermouth.I’msurehethoughthewasbeinghelpful,butithadn’tdonemuchtoimprovehercondition.

NowWaltwastakingcareofher.Hepickedherupgentlyandputheronastretcher,coveringherwithblanketsandstrokingherhairasourothertraineesgatheredround.Andthatwasfine.Completelyfine.

Iwasn’tatallinterestedinhowhandsomehisfacelookedinthemoonlight,orhismusculararmsinthatsleevelesstee,orthefactthathe’dbeenholdinghandswithJaz,or…

Sorry.Lostmytrainofthought.Iploppeddownatthefarcorneroftheroof,feelingabsolutelyknackered.Myrighthanditchedfrom

holdingthepapyrusscrollsolong.Themagicflamestickledmyfingers.IfeltaroundinmyleftpocketandbroughtoutthelittlewaxfigureJazhadgivenme.Itwasoneof

her healing statues, used to expel sickness or curses.Generally speaking,wax figures don’t look likeanyoneinparticular,butJazhadtakenher timewiththisone.Itwasclearlymeant tohealonespecificperson,whichmeant itwould havemore power andwouldmost likely be saved for a life-and-deathsituation.I recognizedthefigurine’scurlyhair, its facialfeatures, theswordpressedinto itshands.Jazhadevenwrittenitsnameinhieroglyphsonitschest:CARTER.

You’llneedthissoon,she’dtoldme.AsfarasIknew,Jazwasnotadiviner.Shecouldn’ttellthefuture.Sowhathadshemeant?How

wasIsupposedtoIknowwhentousethefigurine?Staringatthemini-Carter,Ihadahorriblefeelingthat

mybrother’slifehadbeenquiteliterallyplacedinmyhands.“Areyouallright?”askedawoman’svoice.Iquicklyputawaythefigurine.MyoldfriendBaststoodoverme.Withherslightsmileandglintingyelloweyes,shemight’vebeen

concernedoramused.It’shardtotellwithacatgoddess.Herblackhairwaspulledbackinaponytail.Sheworeherusualleopard-skinleotard,asifshewereabouttoperformabackflip.ForallIknew,shemight.AsIsaid,younevercantellwithcats.

“I’mfine,”Ilied.“Just…”Iwavedmyflaminghandabouthelplessly.“Mmm.”ThescrollseemedtomakeBastuncomfortable.“LetmeseewhatIcando.”Shekneltnexttomeandbegantochant.Iponderedhowodditwashavingmyformerpetcastaspellonme.Foryears,Basthadposedasmy

cat,Muffin. Ihadn’tevenrealized Ihadagoddesssleepingonmypillowatnight.Then,afterourdadunleashedaslewofgodsattheBritishMuseum,Basthadmadeherselfknown.

She’dbeenwatchingovermeforsixyears,she’dtoldus,eversinceourparentsreleasedherfromacellintheDuat,whereshe’dbeensenttofightthechaossnakeApophisforever.

Longstory,butmymumhadforeseenthatApophiswouldeventuallyescapehisprison,whichwouldbasicallyamounttoDoomsday.IfBastcontinuedtofighthimalone,she’dbedestroyed.However,ifBastwerefreed,mymumbelievedshecouldplayanimportantroleinthecomingbattlewithChaos.Somyparents freed her before Apophis could overwhelm her. My mother had died opening, then quicklyclosing,Apophis’sprison;sonaturallyBastfeltindebtedtoourparents.Basthadbecomemyguardian.

NowshewasalsoCarterandmychaperone,travelcompanion,andsometimepersonalchef(Hint:ifsheoffersyoutheFriskiesduJour,sayno).

ButIstillmissedMuffin.AttimesIhadtoresisttheurgetoscratchBastbehindtheearsandfeedhercrunchytreats,althoughIwasgladshenolongertriedtosleeponmypillowatnight.Thatwould’vebeenabitstrange.

She finished her chant, and the scroll’s flames sputtered out. My hand unclenched. The papyrusdroppedintomylap.

“God,thankyou,”Isaid.“Goddess,”Bastcorrected.“You’requitewelcome.Wecan’thavethepowerofRalightingupthe

city,canwe?”I looked out across the borough. The fires were gone. The Brooklyn night skyline was back to

normal,exceptfortheemergencylightsandcrowdsofscreamingmortalsinthestreets.Cometothinkofit,Isupposethatwasfairlynormal.

“ThepowerofRa?”Iasked.“Ithoughtthescrollwasaclue.IsthistheactualBookofRa?”Bast’sponytailpuffedupasitdoeswhenshe’snervous.I’dcometorealizeshekeptherhairina

ponytailsothatherentireheadwouldn’texplodeintoaseaurchinshapeeachtimeshegotstartled.“Thescrollis…partofthebook,”shesaid.“AndIdidwarnyou.Ra’spowerisalmostimpossible

tocontrol.Ifyouinsistontryingtowakehim,thenextfiresyousetoffmightnotbesoharmless.”“Butisn’theyourpharaoh?”Iasked.“Don’tyouwanthimawakened?”Shedroppedhergaze.Irealizedhowfoolishmycommentwas.RawasBast’slordandmaster.Eons

ago,he’dchosenhertobehischampion.Buthewasalsotheonewho’dsentherintothatprisontokeephisarchenemyApophisoccupiedforeternity,soRacouldretirewithaclearconscience.Quiteselfish,ifyouaskme.

Thankstomyparents,Basthadescapedherimprisonment;butthatalsomeantshe’dabandonedherpostfightingApophis.Nowondershehadmixedfeelingsaboutseeingheroldbossagain.

“It’sbestwetalkinthemorning,”Bastsaid.“Youneedrest,andthatscrollshouldonlybeopenedinthedaylight,whenthepowerofRaiseasiertocontrol.”

I stared atmy lap.The papyruswas still steaming. “Easier to control…as in, itwon’t setmeonfire?”

“It’ssafetotouchnow,”Bastassuredme.“Afterbeingtrappedindarknessforafewmillennia,itwas justvery sensitive, reacting to any sortof energy—magical, electrical, emotional. I’ve, ah,dialeddownthesensitivitysoitwon’tburstintoflamesagain.”

Itookthescroll.Thankfully,Bastwasright.Itdidn’tsticktomyhandorlightthecityonfire.Basthelpedmetomyfeet.“Getsomesleep.I’ll letCarterknowyou’reallright.Besides…”She

managedasmile.“You’vegotabigdaytomorrow.”Right,Ithoughtmiserably.Onepersonremembers,andit’smycat.Ilookedoveratmybrother,whowasstilltryingtocontrolthegriffin.IthadCarter’sshoelacesinits

beakanddidn’tseeminclinedtoletgo.MostofourtwentytraineesweresurroundingJaz,tryingtowakeherup.Walthadn’tleftherside.

Heglancedupatmebriefly,uneasily,thenturnedhisattentionbacktoJaz.“Maybeyou’reright,”IgrumbledtoBast.“I’mnotneededuphere.”

Myroomwasalovelyplacetosulk.ThelastsixyearsI’dlivedinanatticinGranandGramps’sflatinLondon,andalthoughImissedmyoldlife,mymatesLizandEmma,andmosteverythingaboutEngland,Icouldn’tdenythatmyroominBrooklynwasmuchmoreposh.

MyprivatebalconyoverlookedtheEastRiver.Ihadanenormouscomfybed,myownbathroom,andawalk-inclosetwithendlessnewoutfitsthatmagicallyappearedandcleanedthemselvesasneeded.Thechestofdrawersfeaturedabuilt-inrefrigeratorwithmyfavoriteRibenadrinks,importedfromtheUK,andchilledchocolates(well,agirldoeshavetotreatherself).Thesoundsystemwasabsolutelybleedingedge,andthewallsweremagicallysoundproofedsoIcouldplaymymusicasloudasIwantedwithoutworryingaboutmystick-in-the-mudbrothernextdoor.SittingonthedresserwasoneoftheonlythingsI’dbroughtfrommyroominLondon:abeat-upcassetterecordermygrandparentshadgivenmeagesago.Itwashopelesslyold-fashioned,yes,butIkeptitaroundforsentimentalreasons.CarterandIhadrecordedouradventuresattheRedPyramidonit,afterall.

IdockedmyiPodandscrolledthroughmyplaylists.Ichoseanoldermixlabeledsad,asthat’showIfelt.

Adele’s19beganplaying.God,Ihadn’theardthatalbumsince…QuiteunexpectedlyIbegantotearup.I’dbeenlisteningtothismixonChristmasEvewhenDadand

CarterpickedmeupforourtriptotheBritishMuseum—thenightourliveschangedforever.Adele sang as if someone were ripping her heart out. She went on about the boy she fancied,

wonderingwhatshemustdotomakehimwantherproperly.Icouldrelatetothat.ButlastChristmas,thesonghadmademethinkofmyfamilyaswell:mymum,who’ddiedwhenIwasquitesmall,andmyfatherandCarter,whotraveledtheworldtogether,leftmeinLondonwithmygrandparents,anddidn’tseemtoneedmeintheirlives.

OfcourseIknewitwasmorecomplicatedthanthat.There’dbeenanastycustodybattleinvolvinglawyersandspatulaattacks,andDadhadwantedtokeepCarterandmeapartsowedidn’tagitateeachother’smagicbeforewecouldhandlethepower.Andyes,we’dallgrownclosersincethen.Myfatherwasbackinmylifeabitmore,evenifhewasthegodoftheunderworldnow.Asformymother…well,I’dmetherghost.Isupposethatcountedforsomething.

Still,themusicbroughtbackallthepainandangerI’dfeltatChristmas.IsupposeIhadn’tgottenridofitascompletelyasI’dthought.

Myfingerhoveredoverthefast-forwardicon,butIdecidedtoletthesongplay.Itossedmystuffonthedresser—thepapyrusscroll,thewaxmini-Carter,mymagicbag,mywand.Ireachedformystaff,thenrememberedIdidn’thaveitanymore.Thegriffinhadeatenit.

“Mankybirdbrain,”Imuttered.Istartedchangingforbed.I’dplasteredtheinsideofmyclosetdoorwithphotos,mostlyofmymates

andme from school last year.TherewasoneofLiz,Emma, andmemaking faces in a photobooth inPiccadilly.Welookedsoyoungandridiculous.

Icouldn’tbelieveImightbeseeingthemtomorrowfor thefirst timeinmonths.GranandGrampshad invitedme tovisit, and Ihadplans togooutwith justmymates—at least, thathad been theplanbefore Carter dropped his “five-days-to-save-the-world” bombshell. Now, who knew what wouldhappen?

Only twonon–Liz-and-Emmapicturesdecoratedmyclosetdoor.OneshowedCarterandmewithUncleAmosthedayAmosleftforEgyptonhis…hmm,whatdoyoucallitwhensomeonegoesforhealingafterbeingpossessedbyanevilgod?Notaholiday,Isuppose.

The last picturewas a paintingofAnubis.Perhapsyou’ve seenhim: the fellowwith the jackal’shead,godoffunerals,death,andsoon.He’severywhereinEgyptianart—leadingdeceasedsoulsintotheHallofJudgment,kneelingatthecosmicscales,weighingaheartagainstthefeatheroftruth.

WhydidIhavehispicture?[Fine,Carter.I’lladmitit,ifonlytoshutyouup.]IhadabitofacrushonAnubis.Iknowhowridiculousthatsounds,amoderngirlgettingmoony-

eyed over a five-thousand-year-old dog-headed boy, but that’s not what I saw when I looked at hispicture.IrememberedAnubisashe’dappearedinNewOrleanswhenwe’dmetface-to-face—aboyofaboutsixteen,inblackleatheranddenim,withtousleddarkhairandgorgeoussad,melted-chocolateeyes.Verymuchnotadog-headedboy.

Stillridiculous,Iknow.Hewasagod.Wehadabsolutelynothingincommon.Ihadn’theardfromhimoncesinceouradventurewiththeRedPyramid,andthatshouldn’thavesurprisedme.Eventhoughhe’d seemed interested inmeat the timeandpossibly evendropped somehints….No, surely I’dbeenimaginingit.

Thepastsevenweeks,sinceWaltStonehadarrivedatBrooklynHouse,I’dthoughtImightbeabletogetoverAnubis.Ofcourse,Waltwasmytrainee,andIwasn’tsupposedtothinkofhimasapossibleboyfriend,butIwasfairlysurethere’dbeenasparkbetweenusthefirsttimewesaweachother.Now,though,Waltseemedtobepullingaway.Hewasactingsosecretive,alwayslookingsoguiltyandtalkingtoJaz.

Mylifewasrubbish.IpulledonmynightclotheswhileAdelekeptsinging.Wereallhersongsaboutnotbeingnoticedby

boys?SuddenlyIfoundthatquiteannoying.Iturnedoffthemusicandfloppedintobed.Sadly,onceIfellasleepmynightonlygotworse.

At BrooklynHouse,we sleepwith all sorts ofmagic charms to protect us againstmalicious dreams,invadingspirits,andtheoccasionalurgeoursoulsmightgettowanderoff.Ievenhaveamagicpillowtomakesuremysoul—orba,ifyouwanttogetEgyptianaboutit—staysanchoredtomybody.

Itisn’taperfectsystem,though.EverysooftenIcansensesomeoutsideforcetuggingonmymind,trying togetmyattention.Ormysoulwill letmeknow ithas someotherplace togo, some importantsceneitneedstoshowme.

IgotoneofthosesensationsimmediatelywhenIfellasleep.Thinkofitasanincomingcall,withmybraingivingmetheoptiontoacceptordecline.Mostofthetime,it’sbesttodecline,especiallywhenmybrainisreportinganunknownnumber.

But sometimes thosecalls are important.Andmybirthdaywas tomorrow.PerhapsDad andMumweretryingtoreachmefromtheunderworld.IimaginedthemintheHallofJudgment,myfathersittingon

his throne as theblue-skinnedgodOsiris,mymum inherghostlywhite robes.Theymightbewearingpaper party hats and singing “Happy Birthday” while Ammit the Devourer, their extremely tiny petmonster,jumpedupanddown,yapping.

Oritcouldbe,justmaybe,Anubiscalling.Hi,um,thoughtyoumightwant togotoafuneralorsomething?

Well…itwaspossible.SoIacceptedthecall.I letmyspiritgowhereitwantedtotakeme,andmyba floatedabovemy

body.Ifyou’venevertriedbatravel,Iwouldn’trecommendit—unlessofcourseyoufancyturningintoa

phantomchickenandraftinguncontrollablythroughthecurrentsoftheDuat.Theba isusually invisible toothers,which isgood,as it takes theformofagiantbirdwithyour

normalheadattached.Onceupona time,I’dbeenable tomanipulatemyba’s formintosomething lessembarrassing,butsinceIsisvacatedmyhead,Ididn’thavethatability.NowwhenIliftedoff,Iwasstuckindefaultpoultrymode.

Thedoorsofthebalconyswungopen.Amagicalbreezesweptmeintothenight.ThelightsofNewYorkblurredandfaded,andIfoundmyselfinafamiliarundergroundchamber:theHallofAges,intheHouseofLife’smainheadquartersunderCairo.

The roomwas so long, it could’ve hosted amarathon. Down themiddle was a blue carpet thatglittered like a river. Between the columns on either side, curtains of light shimmered—holographicimagesfromEgypt’slonghistory.Thelightchangedcolortoreflectdifferenteras,fromthewhiteglowoftheAgeoftheGodsallthewaytothecrimsonlightofmoderntimes.

TheroofwasevenhigherthantheballroomattheBrooklynMuseum,thevastspacelitbyglowingorbsofenergyandfloatinghieroglyphicsymbols.It lookedasifsomeonehaddetonatedafewkilosofchildren’scerealinzerogravity,allthecolorfulsugarybitsdriftingandcollidinginslowmotion.

I floated to theendof theroom, justabove thedaiswith thepharaoh’s throne. Itwasanhonoraryseat,emptysincethefallofEgypt,butonthestepbelowitsattheChiefLector,masteroftheFirstNome,leaderoftheHouseofLife,andmyleastfavoritemagician:MichelDesjardins.

I hadn’t seenMonsieurDelightful sinceour attackon theRedPyramid, and Iwas surprisedhowmuchhe’daged.He’donlybecomeChiefLectorafewmonthsago,buthisslickblackhairandforkedbeardwerenowstreakedwithgray.Heleanedwearilyonhisstaff,asiftheChiefLector’sleopard-skincapeacrosshisshoulderswasasheavyaslead.

Ican’tsayIfeltsorryforhim.Wehadn’tpartedasfriends.We’dcombinedforces(moreorless)todefeat the god Set, but he still considered us dangerous roguemagicians. He’d warned us that if wecontinuedstudyingthepathofthegods(whichwehad)hewoulddestroyusthenexttimewemet.Thathadn’tgivenusmuchincentivetoinvitehimoverfortea.

Hisfacewasgaunt,buthiseyesstillglitteredevilly.Hestudiedthebloodredimagesinthecurtainsoflightasifhewerewaitingforsomething.

“Est-ilallé?” he asked,whichmygrammar schoolFrench ledme to believemeant either “Is hegone?”orpossibly“Haveyourepairedtheisland?”

Fine…itwasprobablythefirstone.For a moment I was afraid he was talking to me. Then from behind the throne, a raspy voice

answered,“Yes,mylord.”Aman steppedout of the shadows.Hewasdressed completely inwhite—suit, scarf, evenwhite

reflectivesunglasses.Myfirstthoughtwas:Mygod,he’sanevilicecreamvendor.He had a pleasant smile and chubby face framed in curly gray hair. I might’vemistaken him as

harmless,evenfriendly—untilhetookoffhisglasses.Hiseyeswereruined.

I’lladmitI’msqueamishabouteyes.Avideoofretinalsurgery?I’llrunoutoftheroom.Eventheideaofcontactlensesmakesmecringe.

Butthemaninwhitelookedasifhiseyeshadbeensplashedwithacid,thenrepeatedlyclawedbycats.Hiseyelidsweremassesofscartissuethatdidn’tcloseproperly.Hiseyebrowswereburnedawayand rakedwith deep grooves. The skin above his cheekboneswas amask of redwelts, and the eyesthemselvesweresuchahorriblecombinationofbloodredandmilkywhitethatIcouldn’tbelievehewasabletosee.

Heinhaled,wheezingsobadly,thesoundmademychesthurt.Glitteringagainsthisshirtwasasilverpendantwithasnake-shapedamulet.

“Heusedtheportalmomentsago,mylord,”themanrasped.“Finally,hehasgone.”That voicewas as horrible as his eyes. If hehad been splashedwith acid, someof itmust have

gotten intohis lungs.Yet themankept smiling, lookingcalmandhappy inhiscrispwhite suit as ifhecouldn’twaittosellicecreamtothegoodlittlechildren.

He approached Desjardins, who was still staring at the curtains of light. The ice cream manfollowedhisgaze.IdidthesameandrealizedwhattheChiefLectorwaslookingat.Atthelastpillar,justnext to the throne, the lightwaschanging.The reddish tintof themodernagewasdarkening toadeeppurple,thecolorofbruises.OnmyfirstvisittotheHallofAges,I’dbeentoldthattheroomgrewlongerastheyearspassed,andnowIcouldactuallyseeithappening.Thefloorandwallsrippledlikeamirage,expandingeversoslowly,andthesliverofpurplelightwidened.

“Ah,”saidtheicecreamman.“It’smuchclearernow.”“A new age,”Desjardinsmurmured. “A darker age. The color of the light has not changed for a

thousandyears,Vladimir.”AnevilicecreammannamedVladimir?Allright,then.“ItistheKanes,ofcourse,”saidVladimir.“Youshould’vekilledtheelderonewhilehewasinour

power.”Mybafeathersruffled.IrealizedhewastalkingaboutUncleAmos.“No,”Desjardinssaid.“Hewasunderourprotection.Allwhoseekhealingmustbegivensanctuary

—evenKane.”Vladimirtookadeepbreath,whichsoundedlikeacloggedvacuumcleaner.“Butsurelynowthathe

has left, wemust act. You heard the news fromBrooklyn,my lord. The children have found the firstscroll.Iftheyfindtheothertwo—”

“Iknow,Vladimir.”“TheyhumiliatedtheHouseofLifeinArizona.TheymadepeacewithSetratherthandestroyhim.

AndnowtheyseektheBookofRa.Ifyouwouldallowmetodealwiththem—”ThetopofDesjardins’stafferuptedinpurplefire.“WhoisChiefLector?”hedemanded.Vladimir’spleasantexpressionfaltered.“Youare,mylord.”“AndIwilldealwiththeKanesinduetime,butApophisisourgreatestthreat.Wemustdivertall

ourpowertokeepingdowntheSerpent.IfthereisanychancetheKanescanhelpusrestoreorder—”“But,ChiefLector,”Vladimirinterrupted.Histonehadanewintensity—analmostmagicalforceto

it.“TheKanesarepartoftheproblem.TheyhaveupsetthebalanceofMa’atbyawakeningthegods.Theyare teaching forbiddenmagic. Now they would restore Ra, who has not ruled since the beginning ofEgypt!Theywillthrowtheworldintodisarray.ThiswillonlyhelpChaos.”

Desjardinsblinked,asifconfused.“Perhapsyou’reright.I…Imustthinkonthis.”Vladimirbowed.“Asyouwish,mylord.Iwillgatherourforcesandawait

yourorderstodestroyBrooklynHouse.”“Destroy…”Desjardinsfrowned.“Yes,youwillawaitmyorders.Iwillchoosethetimetoattack,

Vladimir.”

“Very good,my lord.And if theKane children seek the other two scrolls to awakenRa?One isbeyondtheirreach,ofcourse,buttheother—”

“Iwillleavethattoyou.Guarditasyouthinkbest.”Vladimir’seyeswereevenmorehorriblewhenhegotexcited—slimyandglisteningbehindthoseruinedeyelids.TheyremindedmeofGramps’sfavoritebreakfast:soft-boiledeggswithTabascosauce.

[Well,I’msorryifit’sdisgusting,Carter.Youshouldn’ttrytoeatwhileI’mnarrating,anyway!]“Mylordiswise,”Vladimirsaid.“Thechildrenwillseekthescrolls,mylord.Theyhavenochoice.

Iftheyleavetheirstrongholdandcomeintomyterritory—”“Didn’tIjustsaywewilldisposeofthem?”Desjardinssaidflatly.“Now,leaveme.Imustthink.”Vladimirretreatedintotheshadows.Forsomeonedressedinwhite,hemanagedtodisappearquite

well.Desjardinsreturnedhisattentiontotheshimmeringcurtainoflight.“Anewage…”hemused.“An

ageofdarkness…”MybaswirledintothecurrentsoftheDuat,racingbacktomysleepingform.“Sadie?”avoicesaid.Isatupinbed,myheartpounding.Graymorninglightfilledthewindows.Sittingatthefootofmy

bedwas…“UncleAmos?”Istammered.Hesmiled.“Happybirthday,mydear.I’msorryifIscaredyou.Youdidn’tansweryourdoor.Iwas

concerned.”Helookedbacktofullhealthandasfashionablydressedasever.Heworewire-rimmedglasses,a

porkpiehat,andablackwoolItaliansuitthatmadehimseemabitlessshortandstout.Hislonghairwasbraided in cornrows decoratedwith pieces of glittering black stone—obsidian, perhaps. Hemight’vepassedforajazzmusician(whichhewas)oranAfricanAmericanAlCapone(whichhewasn’t).

Istartedtoask,“How—?”ThenmyvisionfromtheHallofAges—theimplicationsofwhatI’dseen—sank in. “It’s all right,” Amos said. “I’ve just returned from Egypt.” I tried to swallow,my breathalmost as labored as that ghastly man Vladimir’s. “So have I, Amos. And it’s not all right. They’recomingtodestroyus.”

SADIE

4.ABirthdayInvitationtoArmageddon

AFTEREXPLAININGMYHORRIBLEVISION,onlyonethingwoulddo:aproperbreakfast.Amos looked shaken, but he insistedwewait to discussmatters untilwe’d assembled the entire

Twenty-first Nome (as our branch of theHouse of Lifewas called). He promised tomeetme on theverandaintwentyminutes.

After he’d gone, I showered and consideredwhat towear.Normally, Iwould teach SympatheticMagiconMondays,whichwouldrequirepropermagician’slinen.However,mybirthdaywassupposedtobeadayoff.

Giventhecircumstances,IdoubtedAmos,Carter,andBastwouldletmegotoLondon,butIdecidedto thinkpositive. Iputon some ripped jeans,mycombatboots, a tank top, andmy leather jacket—notgoodformagic,butIwasfeelingrebellious.

Istuffedmywandandthemini-Carterfigureintomymagicsupplybag.IwasabouttoslingitovermyshoulderwhenIthought—No,I’llnotbeluggingthisaboutonmybirthday.

I took a deep breath and concentrated on opening a space in theDuat. I hate to admit it, but I’mrubbishatthistrick.It’ssimplynotfairthatCartercanpullthingsoutofthinairatamoment’snotice,butInormallyneedfiveortenminutesofabsolutefocus,andeventhentheeffortmakesmenauseous.Mostofthetime,it’ssimplerjusttokeepmybagovermyshoulder.IfIwentoutwithmymates,however,Ididn’twanttobeburdenedwithit,andIdidn’twanttoleaveitbehindcompletely.

At last the air shimmered as the Duat bent to my will. I tossed my bag in front of me, and itdisappeared.Excellent—assumingIcouldfigureouthowtogetitbackagainlater.

Ipickedupthescrollwe’dstolenfromBullwinklethenightbeforeandheadeddownstairs.

With everyone at breakfast, themansionwas strangely silent.Five levelsofbalconies faced theGreatRoom,sonormallytheplacewasbustlingwithnoiseandactivity;butIrememberedhowemptyithadfeltwhenCarterandIfirstarrivedlastChristmas.

TheGreat Room still hadmany of the same touches: themassive statue of Thoth in themiddle,Amos’s collection of weapons and jazz instruments along the wall, the snakeskin rug in front of thegarage-size fireplace. But you could tell that twenty young magicians lived here now as well. Anassortmentofremotecontrols,wands,iPads,snackfoodwrappers,andshabtifigurineslitteredthecoffeetable.Someonewithbigfeet—probablyJulian—hadlefthismuddytrainersonthestairs.Andoneofourhoodlums—I assumed Felix—had magically converted the fireplace into an Antarctic wonderland,completewithsnowandalivepenguin.Felixdoeslovepenguins.

Magicalmopsandbroomsspedabout thehouse, trying tocleanup. Ihad toduck toavoidgettingdusted.Forsomereason,thedustersthinkmyhairisamaintenanceissue.

[Nocommentsfromyou,Carter.]AsIexpected,everyonewasgatheredontheveranda,whichservedasourdiningareaandalbino

crocodile habitat. Philip ofMacedonia splashed around happily in his pool, jumping for bacon stripswheneveratraineetossedhimone.Themorningwascoldandrainy,but thefireintheterrace’smagicbrazierskeptustoasty.

Igrabbedapainauchocolatandacupofteafromthebuffettableandsatdown.ThenIrealizedtheothersweren’teating.Theywerestaringatme.

Attheheadofthetable,AmosandBastbothlookedgrim.Acrossfromme,Carterhadn’ttouchedhisplateofwaffles,whichwasveryunlikehim.Tomyright,Jaz’schairwasempty.(Amoshadtoldmeshewasstillintheinfirmary,nochange.)TomyleftsatWalt,lookingquitegoodasusual,butIdidmybesttoignorehim.

Theothertraineesseemedtobeinvariousstatesofshock.Theywereamotleyassortmentofallagesfromallovertheworld.AhandfulwereolderthanCarterandme—oldenoughforuniversity,infact—whichwasniceforchaperoningtheyoungerones,butalwaysmademefeelabituncomfortablewhenItriedtoactastheirteacher.Theothersweremostlybetweentenandfifteen.Felixwasjustnine.TherewasJulianfromBoston,AlyssafromCarolina,SeanfromDublin,andCleofromRiodeJaneiro(yes,Iknow, Cleo fromRio, but I’m notmaking it up!). The thing we all had in common: the blood of thepharaohs.AllofusweredescendedfromEgypt’sroyallines,whichgaveusanaturalcapacityformagicandhostingthepowerofthegods.

Theonlyonewhodidn’tseemaffectedby thegrimmoodwasKhufu.For reasonsweneverquiteunderstood, our baboon eats only foods that end in -o. Recently he had discovered Jell-O, which heregardedasamiraclesubstance.IsupposethecapitalOmadeeverythingtastebetter.Nowhewouldeatalmostanythingencasedingelatin—fruit,nuts,bugs,smallanimals.Atthemomenthehadhisfaceburiedinaquiveringredmountainofbreakfastandwasmakingrudenoisesasheexcavatedforgrapes.

Everyoneelsewatchedme,asifwaitingforanexplanation.“Morning,”Imuttered.“Lovelyday.Penguininthefireplace,ifanyone’sinterested.”“Sadie,”Amossaidgently,“telleveryonewhatyoutoldme.”Isippedsometeatosettlemynerves.ThenItriednottosoundterrifiedasIdescribedmyvisittothe

HallofAges.WhenIwasdone,theonlysoundswerethefirescracklinginthebraziersandPhilipofMacedonia

splashinginhispool.Finallynine-year-oldFelixaskedwhatwasoneveryone’smind:“Sowe’reallgoingtodie,then?”“No.”Amossatforward.“Absolutelynot.Children,IknowI’vejustarrived.I’vehardlymetmost

of you, but I promisewe’ll do everythingwe can to keep you safe.This house is layeredwithmagicprotection.Youhave amajor goddess on your side”—hegestured toBast,whowas opening a can ofFancyFeastTunaSupremewithherfingernails—“andtheKanefamilytoprotectyou.CarterandSadiearemorepowerfulthanyoumightrealize,andI’vebattledMichelDesjardinsbefore,ifitcomestothat.”

Given all the trouble we’d had last Christmas, Amos’s speech seemed a tad optimistic, but thetraineeslookedrelieved.

“Ifitcomestothat?”Alyssaasked.“Itsoundsprettycertainthey’llattackus.”Amosknittedhisbrow.“Perhaps,butit troublesmethatDesjardinswouldagreetosuchafoolish

move.Apophisistherealenemy,andDesjardinsknowsit.Heshouldrealizeheneedsallthehelphecanget.Unless…”Hedidn’tfinishthesentence.Whateverhewasthinking,itapparentlytroubledhimgreatly.“Atanyrate,ifDesjardinsdecidestocomeafterus,hewillplancarefully.Heknowsthismansionwillnot fall easily.He can’t afford to be embarrassed by theKane family again.He’ll study the problem,considerhisoptions,andgatherhisforces.Itwouldtakeseveraldaysforhimtoprepare—timeheshouldbeusingtostopApophis.”

Waltraisedanindexfinger.Idon’tknowwhatitisabouthim,buthehasasortofgravitythatdrawsthegroup’sattentionwhenhe’sabouttospeak.EvenKhufulookedupfromhisJell-O.

“IfDesjardinsdoes attack us,”Walt said, “he’ll bewell prepared,withmagicianswho are a lotmoreexperiencedthanweare.Canhegetthroughourdefenses?”

Amosgazedat the slidingglassdoors,possibly remembering the last timeourdefenseshadbeenbreached.Theresultshadn’tbeengood.

“Wemustmakesureitdoesn’tcometothat,”hesaid.“Desjardinsknowswhatwe’reattempting,and

thatweonlyhavefivedays—well,fourdays,now.AccordingtoSadie’svision,Desjardinsisawareofourplan andwill try toprevent it outof somemisguidedbelief thatweareworking for the forcesofChaos.Butifwesucceed,we’llhavebargainingpowertomakeDesjardinsbackoff.”

Cleoraisedherhand.“Um…Wedon’tknowtheplan.Fourdaystodowhat?”AmosgesturedatCarter,invitinghimtoexplain.Thatwasfinewithme.Honestly,Ifoundtheplana

bitcrazy.My brother sat up. I must give him credit. Over the last few months, he’d made progress at

resemblinganormalteenager.AftersixyearsofhomeschoolingandtravelingwithDad,Carterhadbeenhopelesslyoutof touch.He’ddressed likea juniorexecutive, incrispwhiteshirtsandslacks.Nowatleasthe’dlearnedtowearjeansandT-shirtsandtheoccasionalhoodie.He’dlethishairgrowoutinacurlymess—whichlookedmuchbetter.Ifhekeptonimproving,theboymightevengetadatesomeday.

[What?Don’tpokeme.Itwasacompliment!]“We’regoingtowakethegodRa,”Cartersaid,asifitwasaseasyasgettingasnackfromthefridge.Thetraineesglancedatoneanother.Carterwasn’tknownforhissenseofhumor,buttheymust’ve

wonderedifhewasjoking.“Youmeanthesungod,”Felixsaid.“Theoldkingofthegods.”Carternodded.“Youallknowthestory.Thousandsofyearsago,Ragotsenileandretreatedintothe

heavens, leaving Osiris in charge. Then Osiris got overthrown by Set. Then Horus defeated Set andbecamepharaoh.Then—”

Icoughed.“Shortversion,please.”Cartergavemeacrosslook.“Thepointis,Rawasthefirstandmostpowerfulkingofthegods.We

believeRaisstillalive.He’sjustasleepsomewheredeepintheDuat.Ifwecanwakehim—”“Butifheretiredbecausehewassenile,”Waltsaid,“wouldn’tthatmeanhe’sreally,really senile

now?”I’dasked thesame thingwhenCarter first toldmehis idea.The last thingweneededwasanall-

powerfulgodwhocouldn’trememberhisownname,smelledlikeoldpeople,anddrooledinhissleep.And how could an immortal being get senile in the first place? No one had given me a satisfactoryanswer.

AmosandCarterlookedatBast,whichmadesense,asshewastheonlyEgyptiangodpresent.ShefrownedatheruneatenFancyFeast.“Raisthegodofthesun.Inoldentimes,heagedastheday

aged,thensailedthroughtheDuatonhisboateachnightandwasrebornwiththesunriseeachmorning.”“Butthesunisn’treborn,”Iputin.“It’sjusttherotationoftheearth—”“Sadie,”Bastwarned.Right, right.Mythandsciencewereboth true—simplydifferentversionsof thesamereality,blah,

blah.I’dheardthatlectureahundredtimes,andIdidn’twanttohearitagain.Bastpointedat the scroll,which I’d setnext tomy teacup. “WhenRa stoppedmakinghisnightly

journey,thecyclewasbroken,andRafadedintopermanenttwilight—atleast,sowethink.Hemeanttosleepforever.ButifyoucouldfindhimintheDuat—andthat’sabigif—it’spossiblehemightbebroughtbackand rebornwith the rightmagic.TheBookofRadescribeshow thismightbedone.Ra’spriestscreated thebook in ancient times andkept it secret, dividing it into threeparts, to beusedonly if theworldwasending.”

“If…theworldwasending?”Cleoasked.“YoumeanApophis is reallygoing to…toswallow thesun?”

Walt lookedatme.“Is thatpossible?Inyourstoryabout theRedPyramid,yousaidApophiswasbehindSet’splantodestroyNorthAmerica.Hewastryingtocausesomuchchaosthathecouldbreakoutofhisprison.”

I shivered, remembering the apparition that had appeared in the sky over Washington, D.C.—a

writhinggiantsnake.“Apophisistherealproblem,”Iagreed.“Westoppedhimonce,buthisprisonisweakening.Ifhe

managestoescape—”“Hewill,”Carter said. “In four days.Unlesswe stop him.And then he’ll destroy civilization—

everythinghumanshavebuiltsincethedawnofEgypt.”Thatputachilloverbreakfasttable.Carter and I had talkedprivately about the four-daydeadline, of course.Horus and Isis hadboth

discussed itwith us.But it had seemed like a horrible possibility rather than absolute certainty.Now,Carter sounded sure. I studied his face and realized he’d seen something during the night—possibly avisionevenworsethanmine.Hisexpressionsaid,Nothere.I’lltellyoulater.

Bastwasdiggingherclawsintothediningtable.Whateverthesecretwas,shemustbeinonit.At the far end of the table, Felix counted on his fingers. “Why four days? What’s so special

about…um,Marchtwenty-first?”“Thespringequinox,”Bastexplained.“Apowerfultimeformagic.Thehoursofdayandnightare

exactlybalanced,meaningtheforcesofChaosandMa’atcanbeeasilytippedonewayortheother.It’stheperfecttimetoawakenRa.Infact,it’souronlychanceuntilthefallequinox,sixmonthsfromnow.Butwecan’twaitthatlong.”

“Becauseunfortunately,”Amosadded,“theequinoxisalsotheperfect timeforApophistoescapehis prison and invade the mortal world. You can be sure he has minions working on that right now.Accordingtooursourcesamongthegods,Apophiswillsucceed,whichiswhywehavetoawakenRafirst.”

I’d heard all this before, but discussing it in the open, in front of all our trainees, and seeing thedevastatedlooksontheirfaces,itallseemedmuchmorefrighteningandreal.

Iclearedmythroat.“Right…sowhenApophisbreaksout,he’lltrytodestroyMa’at,theorderoftheuniverse.He’ll swallow the sun,plunge theearth intoeternaldarkness, andotherwisemakeushaveaverybadday.”

“Which is why we need Ra.” Amos modulated his tone, making it calm and reassuring for ourtrainees.Heprojectedsuchcomposure,evenIfeltalittlelessterrified.Iwonderedifthiswasakindofmagic,orifhewasjustbetteratexplainingArmageddonthanIwas.

“RawasApophis’s archenemy,” he continued. “Ra is theLordofOrder,whereasApophis is theLordofChaos.Sincethebeginningof time, thesetwoforceshavebeeninaperpetualbattle todestroyoneanother.IfApophisreturns,wehavetomakesurewehaveRaonoursidetocounteracthim.Thenwestandachance.”

“Achance,”Waltsaid.“AssumingwecanfindRaandwakehim,andtherestoftheHouseofLifedoesn’tdestroyusfirst.”

Amosnodded.“ButifwecanawakenRa,thatwouldbeafeatmoredifficultthananymagicianhaseveraccomplished.ItwouldmakeDesjardinsthinktwice.TheChiefLector…well, itwouldseemhe’snotthinkingclearly,buthe’snofool.HerecognizesthedangerofApophisrising.Wemustconvincehimthatwe’reonthesameside,thatthepathofthegodsistheonlywaytodefeatApophis.Iwouldratherdothisthanfighthim.”

Personally,IwantedtopunchDesjardinsinthefaceandsethisbeardonfire,butIsupposedAmoshadapoint.

Cleo,poor thing,hadgoneasgreenasafrog.She’dcomeall thewayfromBrazil toBrooklyntostudythepathofThoth,godofknowledge,andwe’dalreadypeggedherasourfuturelibrarian;butwhenthedangerswerereal,andnotjust inthepagesofbooks…well,shehadatenderstomach.Ihopedshecouldmakeittotheedgeoftheterraceifsheneededto.

“The—thescroll,”shemanaged,“yousaidtherearetwootherparts?”

Itookthescroll.Inthedaylightitlookedmorefragile—brittleandyellowandlikelytocrumble.Myfingers trembled. I could feel magic humming in the papyrus like a low-voltage current. I felt anoverwhelmingdesiretoopenit.

Ibegantounrollthecylinder.Cartertensed.Amossaid,“Sadie…”Nodoubt theyexpectedBrooklyntocatchfireagain,butnothinghappened.Ispreadout thescroll

andfounditwaswritteningibberish—nothieroglyphics,notanylanguageIcouldrecognize.Theendofthepapyruswasajaggedline,asifithadbeenripped.

“I imagine thepiecesgraft together,” I said. “Itwillbe readableonlywhenall three sectionsarecombined.”

Carterlookedimpressed.Buthonestly,Idoknowsomethings.DuringourlastadventureI’dreadascrolltobanishSet,andithadworkedmuchthesameway.

KhufulookedupfromhisJell-O.“Agh!”Heputthreeslimygrapesonthetable.“Exactly,”Bastagreed.“AsKhufusays,thethreesectionsofthebookrepresentthethreeaspectsof

Ra—morning,noon,andnight.ThatscrollthereisthespellofKhnum.You’llneedtofindtheothertwonow.”

HowKhufufitallofthatintoasinglegrunt,Ididn’tknow;butIwishedIcouldtakeallmyclassesfrombaboonteachers.I’dhavemiddleschoolandhighschoolfinishedinaweek.

“Sotheothertwograpes,”Isaid,“Imean,scrolls…accordingtomyvisionlastnight,theywon’tbeeasytofind.”

Amosnodded.“Thefirstsectionwaslosteonsago.ThemiddlesectionisinthepossessionoftheHouseofLife.Ithasbeenmovedmanytimes,andisalwayskeptundertightsecurity.Judgingfromyourvision,I’dsaythescrollisnowinthehandsofVladimirMenshikov.”

“Theicecreamman,”Iguessed.“Whoishe?”Amos traced something on the table—perhaps a protective hieroglyph. “The third-most powerful

magicianintheworld.He’salsooneofDesjardins’strongestsupporters.HerunstheEighteenthNome,inRussia.”

Basthissed.Beingacat,shewasquitegoodatthat.“VladtheInhaler.He’sgotanevilreputation.”Irememberedhisruinedeyesandwheezingvoice.“Whathappenedtohisface?”Bastwasabouttoanswer,butAmoscutheroff.“Just realize that he’s quite dangerous,” he warned. “Vlad’s main talent is silencing rogue

magicians.”“Youmeanhe’sanassassin?”Iasked.“Wonderful.AndDesjardinsjustgavehimpermissiontohunt

CarterandmeifweleaveBrooklyn.”“Whichyou’llhavetodo,”Bastsaid,“ifyouwanttoseektheothersectionsoftheBookofRa.You

haveonlyfourdays.”“Yes,”Imuttered,“youmayhavementionedthat.You’llbecomingwithus,won’tyou?”BastlookeddownatherFancyFeast.“Sadie…”Shesoundedmiserable.“CarterandIweretalkingand…well,someonehastocheckon

Apophis’sprison.Wehavetoknowwhat’sgoingon,howcloseitistobreaking,andifthere’sawaytostopit.Thatrequiresafirsthandlook.”

I couldn’t believe Iwas hearing this. “You’re goingback there?After allmy parents did to freeyou?”

“I’llonlyapproachtheprisonfromtheoutside,”shepromised.“I’llbecareful.Iamacreatureofstealth, after all.Besides, I’m the only onewhoknowshow to find his cell, and that part of theDuatwouldbelethaltoamortal.I—Imustdothis.”

Hervoice trembled.She’donce toldme thatcatsweren’tbrave,butgoingback toheroldprison

seemedlikequiteacourageousthingtodo.“Iwon’tleaveyouundefended,”shepromised.“Ihavea…afriend.HeshouldarrivefromtheDuat

bytomorrow.I’veaskedhimtofindyouandprotectyou.”“Afriend?”Iasked.Bastsquirmed.“Well…sortof.”Thatdidn’tsoundencouraging.I looked down at my street clothes. A sour taste filled my mouth. Carter and I had a quest to

undertake, and it was unlikely we would come back alive. Another responsibility on my shoulders,anotherunreasonabledemandformetosacrificemylifeforthegreatergood.Happybirthdaytome.

Khufubelchedandpushedawayhisemptyplate.HebaredhisJell-O–stainedfangsasiftosayWell,that’ssettled!Goodbreakfast!

“I’llgetpacked,”Cartersaid.“Wecanleaveinanhour.”“No,”Isaid.I’mnotsurewhowasmoresurprised—meormybrother.“No?”Carterasked.“It’smy birthday,” I said,which probablymademe sound like a seven-year-old brat—but at the

momentIdidn’tcare.The trainees looked astonished.Severalmumbled their goodwishes.Khufuofferedmehis empty

Jell-Obowlasapresent.Felixhalfheartedlystartedsinging“HappyBirthday,”butnoonejoinedhim,sohegaveup.

“Bast said her friend won’t arrive until tomorrow,” I continued. “Amos said it would takeDesjardins some time toprepareanysortofattack.Besides, I’vebeenplanningmy trip toLondon forages.IthinkIhavetimeforonebloodydayoffbeforetheworldends.”

Theothersstaredatme.WasIselfish?Allright,yes.Irresponsible?Perhaps.SowhydidIfeelsostronglyaboutputtingmyfootdown?

Thismaycomeasashocktoyou,butIdon’tlikefeelingcontrolled.Carterwasdictatingwhatwewoulddo,butasusualhehadn’t toldmeeverything.He’dobviouslyconsultedAmosandBastalreadyandmadeagameplan.Thethreeofthemhaddecidedwhatwasbestwithoutbotheringtoaskme.Myoneconstantcompanion,Bast,wasleavingmetoembarkonahorriblydangerousmission.AndI’dbestuckwithmybrotheronmybirthday,trackingdownanothermagicalscrollthatmightsetmeonfireorworse.

Sorry.Nothanks.IfIwasgoingtodie,thenitcouldwaituntiltomorrowmorning.Carter’sexpressionwaspartanger,partdisbelief.Normally,wetriedtokeepthingscivilinfrontof

our trainees.Now Iwas embarrassinghim.He’d always complainedhow I rushed into thingswithoutthinking.Lastnighthe’dbeenirritatedwithmeforgrabbingthatscroll,andIsuspectedinthebackofhismind he blamed me for things going wrong—for Jaz’s getting hurt. No doubt he saw this as anotherexampleofmyrecklessnature.

Iwasquitepreparedforaknockdownfight,butAmosinterceded.“Sadie,avisit toLondonisdangerous.”HehelduphishandbeforeIcouldprotest.“However, if

youmust…”Hetookadeepbreath,asifhedidn’tlikewhathewasabouttosay.“…thenatleastpromiseyou’llbecareful.IdoubtVladMenshikovwillbereadytomoveagainstussoquickly.Youshouldbeallrightaslongasyouusenomagic,donothingtoattractattention.”

“Amos!”Carterprotested.Amos cut him off with a stern look. “While Sadie is gone, we can begin planning. Tomorrow

morning,thetwoofyoucanbeginyourquest.Iwilltakeoveryourteachingdutieswithourtrainees,andoverseethedefenseofBrooklynHouse.”

IcouldseeinAmos’seyeshedidn’twantmetogo.Itwasfoolish,dangerous,andrash—inotherwords,rathertypicalofme.ButIcouldalsosensehissympathyformypredicament.IrememberedhowfragileAmoshadlookedafterSettookoverhisbodylastChristmas.Whenhe’dgonetotheFirstNome

forhealing,Iknewhe’dfeltguiltyaboutleavingusalone.Still,ithadbeentherightchoiceforhissanity.Amos, of all people, knewwhat itwas like to need to get away. If I stayed here, if I left on a queststraightawaywithouteventimetobreathe,IfeltIwouldexplode.

Besides,IfeltbetterknowingAmoswouldbecoveringforusatBrooklynHouse.Iwasrelievedtogiveupmyteachingdutiesforawhile.Truthbetold,I’mahorridteacher.Isimplyhavenopatienceforit.

[Oh,bequiet,Carter.Youweren’tsupposedtoagreewithme.]“Thankyou,Amos,”Imanaged.Hestood,clearlyindicatingthatthemeetingwasover.“Ithinkthat’senoughforonemorning,”hesaid.“Themainthingisforallofyoutocontinueyour

training,anddon’tdespair.We’llneedyouintopshapetodefendBrooklynHouse.Wewillprevail.Withthegodsonourside,Ma’atwillovercomeChaos,asitalwayshasbefore.”

Thetraineesstilllookeduneasy,buttheystoodandbegantocleartheirdishes.Cartergavemeonemoreangrylook,thenstormedinside.

Thatwashisproblem.Iwasdeterminednottofeelguilty.Iwouldnothavemybirthdayruined.Still,asIstareddownatmycoldteaanduneatenpainauchocolat,IhadahorriblefeelingImightneversitatthistableagain.

AnhourlaterIwasreadyforLondon.I’dchosenanewstafffromthearsenalandstoweditintheDuatalongwithmyothersupplies.Ileft

the magic Bullwinkle scroll with Carter, who wouldn’t even talk to me, then checked on Jaz in theinfirmary and found her still in a coma. An enchanted washcloth kept her forehead cool. Healinghieroglyphsfloatedaroundherbed,butshestilllookedsofrail.Withoutherusualsmile,sheseemedlikeadifferentperson.

Isatnexttoherandheldherhand.Myheartfeltasheavyasabowlingball.Jazhadriskedherlifetoprotectus.She’dgoneupagainstamobofbauwithonlyafewweeksoftraining.She’dtappedintotheenergyofherpatrongoddess,Sekhmet,justaswe’dtaughther,andtheefforthadalmostdestroyedher.

WhathadIsacrificedlately?I’dthrownatantrumbecauseImightmissmybirthdayparty.“I’msosorry,Jaz.”Iknewshecouldn’thearme,butmyvoicequavered.“I just…I’llgomadifI

don’tgetaway.We’vealreadyhadtosavethebloodyworldonce,andnowIhavetodoitagain….”I imaginedwhat Jaz would say—something reassuring, no doubt: It’s not your fault, Sadie. You

deserveafewhours.Thatjustmademefeelworse.IshouldneverhaveallowedJaztoputherself indanger.Sixyears

ago, mymother had died channeling toomuchmagic. She’d burned up closing the gate to Apophis’sprison.I’dknownthat,andyetI’dallowedJaz,whohadmuchlessexperience, toriskher life tosaveours.

AsIsaid…I’mahorridteacher.Finally Icouldn’t stand itanymore. I squeezedJaz’shand, toldher togetbetter soon,and left the

infirmary. I climbed to the roof,wherewekeptour relic foropeningportals—astone sphinx from theruinsofHeliopolis.

I tensedwhenInoticedCarterat theotherendof theroof,feedingapileofroastedturkeystothegriffin. Since last night, he’d constructed quite a nice stable for themonster, so I guessed itwould bestayingwithus.Atleastthatwouldkeepthepigeonsofftheroof.

IalmosthopedCarterwouldignoreme.Iwasn’tinthemoodforanotherargument.Butwhenhesawme,hescowled,wipedtheturkeygreaseoffhishands,andwalkedover.

Ibracedmyselfforascolding.Insteadhegrumbled,“Becareful.Igotyouabirthdaygift,butI’llwaituntil…youcomeback.”

Hedidn’taddthewordalive,butIthoughtIhearditinhistone.“Look,Carter—”“Justgo,”hesaid.“It’snotgoingtohelpustoargue.”Iwasn’tsurewhethertofeelguiltyorangry,butIsupposedhehadapoint.Wedidn’thaveavery

goodhistorywithbirthdays.OneofmyearliestmemorieswasfightingwithCarteronmysixthbirthday,andmycakeexplodingfromthemagicalenergywestirredup.Perhaps,consideringthat,Ishould’veleftwellenoughalone.ButIcouldn’tquitedoit.

“I’msorry,”Iblurtedout.“Iknowyoublamemeforpickingupthescroll lastnight,andforJaz’sgettinghurt,butIfeelasifI’mfallingapart—”

“You’renottheonlyone,”hesaid.A lump formed inmy throat. I’d been soworried aboutCarter’s beingmad atme, I hadn’t paid

attentiontohistone.Hesoundedabsolutelymiserable.“Whatisit?”Iasked.“Whathappened?”Hewipedhisgreasyhandsonhistrousers.“Yesterdayatthemuseum…oneofthosespirits—oneof

themtalkedtome.”Hetoldmeabouthisoddencounterwiththeflamingbau,howtimehadseemedtoslowdownand

thebauhadwarnedCarterourquestwouldfail.“Hesaid…”Carter’svoicebroke.“HesaidZiawasasleepatthePlaceofRedSands,whateverthat

is.HesaidifIdidn’tgiveupthequestandrescueher,shewoulddie.”“Carter,”Isaidcarefully,“didthisspiritmentionZiabyname?”“Well,no…”“Couldhehavemeantsomethingelse?”“No,I’msure.HemeantZia.”I tried tobitemy tongue.Honestly, I did.But the subject ofZiaRashidhadbecomeanunhealthy

obsessionformybrother.“Carter,nottobeunkind,”Isaid,“butthelastfewmonthsyou’vebeenseeingmessagesaboutZia

everywhere.Twoweeksago,youthoughtshewassendingyouadistresscallinyourmashedpotatoes.”“ItwasaZ!Carvedrightinthepotatoes!”Iheldupmyhands.“Fine.Andyourdreamlastnight?”Hisshoulderstensed.“Whatdoyoumean?”“Oh,comeon.Atbreakfast,yousaidApophiswouldescape fromhisprisonon theequinox.You

soundedcompletelycertain,as ifyou’dseenproof.You’dalready talked toBastandconvincedher tocheckApophis’sprison.Whateveryousaw…itmust’vebeenbad.”

“I…Idon’tknow.I’mnotsure.”“Isee.”Myirritationrose.SoCarterdidn’twanttotellme.Wewerebacktokeepingsecretsfrom

eachother?Fine.“We’llcontinuethislater,then,”Isaid.“Seeyoutonight.”“Youdon’tbelieveme,”hesaid.“AboutZia.”“Andyoudon’ttrustme.Sowe’reeven.”Weglaredateachother.ThenCarterturnedandstompedofftowardthegriffin.Ialmostcalledhimback.Ihadn’tmeanttobesocrosswithhim.Ontheotherhand,apologizingis

notmystrongsuit,andhewasratherimpossible.I turned to the sphinx and summoned a gateway. I’d got rather good at it, if I do say somyself.

Instantlyaswirlingfunnelofsandappearedinfrontofme,andIjumpedthrough.Aheartbeatlater,ItumbledoutatCleopatra’sNeedleonthebankoftheRiverThames.Sixyearsbefore,mymotherhaddiedhere;itwasn’tmyfavoriteEgyptianmonument.ButtheNeedle

wastheclosestmagicportaltoGranandGramps’sflat.

Fortunately, theweatherwasmiserableand therewasnooneabout, so Ibrushed the sandoffmyclothesandheadedfortheUndergroundstation.

Thirtyminuteslater,Istoodonthestepsofmygrandparents’flat.Itseemedsooddtobe…home?Iwasn’tevensureIcouldcallitthatanymore.FormonthsI’dbeenlongingforLondon—thefamiliarcitystreets,myfavoriteshops,mymates,myoldroom.I’devenbeenhomesickforthedrearyweather.Butnoweverythingseemedsodifferent,soforeign.

Nervously,Iknockedonthedoor.Noanswer.Iwassuretheywereexpectingme.Iknockedagain.Perhaps theywerehiding,waitingformetocomein. I imaginedmygrandparents,Liz,andEmma

crouchingbehindthefurniture,readytojumpoutandyell“Surprise!”Hmm…GranandGrampscrouchingandjumping.Notbloodylikely.Ifishedoutmykeyandunlockedthedoor.Thelivingroomwasdarkandempty.Thestairwelllightwasoff,whichGranwouldneverallow.

Shewasmortallyafraidoffallingdownstairs.EvenGramps’stelevisionwasswitchedoff,whichwasn’tright.Grampsalwayskepttherugbymatcheson,evenifhewasn’twatching.

Isniffedtheair.SixintheeveningLondontime,yetnosmellofburningbiscuitsfromthekitchen.Granshould’veburnedatleastonetrayofbiscuitsforteatime.Itwasatradition.

IgotoutmyphonetocallLizandEmma,butthephonewasdead.IknewI’dchargedthebattery.Mymindwasjustbeginningtoprocessathought—Iamindanger—whenthefrontdoorslammed

shutbehindme.Ispun,grabbingformywand,whichIdidn’thave.Aboveme,atthetopofthedarkstairwell,avoicethatwasdefinitelynothumanhissed,“Welcome

home,SadieKane.”

CARTER

5.ILearntoReallyHateDungBeetles

THANKSALOT,SADIE.Handmethemicrightwhenyougettoagoodpart.Soyeah,Sadie leftonherbirthday trip toLondon.Theworldwasending in fourdays,wehada

questtocomplete,andshegoesofftopartywithherfriends.Reallyhadherprioritiesstraight,huh?NotthatIwasbitter,oranything.

On the bright side,BrooklynHousewas pretty quiet once she left, at least until the three-headedsnakeshowedup.ButfirstIshouldtellyouaboutmyvision.

Sadie thought I was hiding something from her at breakfast, right? Well, that was sort of true.Honestly, though, what I saw during the night terrified me so badly I didn’t want to talk about it,especiallyonherbirthday.I’dexperiencedsomebizarrestuffsinceIstartedlearningmagic,butthistooktheNobelPrizeforWeird.

AfterourtriptotheBrooklynMuseum,Ihadatoughtimegettingtosleep.WhenIfinallymanaged,Iawokeinadifferentbody.

Itwasn’tsoultraveloradream.IwasHorustheAvenger.I’d shared a body with Horus before. He’d been in my head for almost a week at Christmas,

whispering suggestions and otherwise being annoying. During the fight at the Red Pyramid, I’d evenexperiencedaperfectmeldingofhisthoughtsandmine.I’dbecomewhatEgyptianscalledthe“Eye”ofthegod—allofhispoweratmycommand,ourmemoriesmixingtogether,humanandgodworkingasone.ButI’dstillbeeninmyownbody.

Thistime,thingswerereversed.IwasaguestinHorus’sbody,standingattheprowofaboatonthemagical river thatwound through theDuat.Myeyesightwasas sharpasa falcon’s.Through the fog, Icouldseeshapesmovinginthewater—scalyreptilianbacksandmonstrousfins.Isawghostsofthedeaddriftingalongeithershore.Farabove, thecavernceilingglistenedred,as ifweweresailingdownthethroatofalivingbeast.

Myarmswerebronzeandmuscular,circledwithbandsofgoldandlapislazuli.Iwasdressedforbattleinleatherarmor,ajavelininonehandandakhopeshintheother.Ifeltstrongandpowerfullike…well,agod.

Hello,Carter,saidHorus,whichfeltliketalkingtomyself.“Horus,what’sup?”Ididn’ttellhimIwasirritatedbyhisintrusionintomysleep.Ididn’tneedto.I

wassharinghismind.Iansweredyourquestions,Horussaid.Itoldyouwheretofindthefirstscroll.Nowyoumustdo

somethingforme.ThereissomethingIwishtoshowyou.Theboat lurchedforward.Igrabbedtherailingof thenavigator’splatform.Lookingback,Icould

seetheboatwasapharaoh’sbarque,aboutsixtyfeetlongandshapedlikeamassivecanoe.Inthemiddle,atatteredpavilioncoveredanemptydaiswhereathronemightoncehavesat.Asinglemastheldasquaresailthathadoncebeendecorated,butwasnowfadedandhanginginshreds.Portandstarboard,setsofbrokenoarsdangleduselessly.

The boatmust’ve been abandoned for centuries. The riggingwas covered in cobwebs. The lineswererotten.Theplanksofthehullgroanedandcreakedastheboatpickedupspeed.

Itisold,likeRa,Horussaid.Doyoureallywanttoputthisboatbackintoservice?Letmeshow

youthethreatyouface.Therudderturnedusintothecurrent.Suddenlywewereracingdownstream.I’dsailedontheRiver

ofNightbefore,butthistimeweseemedtobemuchdeeperintheDuat.Theairwascolder,therapidsfaster.Wejumpedacataractandwentairborne.Whenwesplasheddownagain,monstersbeganattacking.Horriblefacesroseup—aseadragonwithfelineeyes,acrocodilewithporcupinebristles,aserpentwiththeheadofamummifiedman.Eachtimeoneroseup,Iraisedmyswordandcutitdown,orspeareditwithmyjavelintokeepitawayfromtheboat.Buttheyjustkeptcoming,changingforms,andIknewthatifIhadn’tbeenHorustheAvenger—ifIhadjustbeenCarterKanetryingtodealwiththesehorrors—Iwouldgocrazy,ordie,orboth.

Everynight,thiswasthejourney,Horussaid.ItwasnotRawhofendedoffthecreaturesofChaos.Weothergodskepthimsafe.WeheldbackApophisandhisminions.

Weplungedoveranotherwaterfallandcrashedheadlongintoawhirlpool.Somehow,wemanagednottocapsize.Theboatspunoutofthecurrentandfloatedtowardtheshore.

The riverbank herewas a field of glistening black stones—or so I thought.Aswe got closer, Irealized theywere bug shells—millions andmillions of dried-up beetle carapaces, stretching into thegloomasfarasIcouldsee.Afewlivingscarabsmovedsluggishlyamongtheemptyshells,soitseemedlikethewholelandscapewascrawling.I’mnotevengoingtotrytodescribethesmellofseveralmilliondeaddungbeetles.

TheSerpent’sprison,Horussaid.Iscannedthedarknessforajailcell,chains,apitorsomething.AllIsawwasanendlessexpanseof

deadbeetles.“Where?”Iasked.Iamshowingyouthisplaceinawayyoucanunderstand,Horussaid.Ifyouwerehereinperson,

youwouldburntoashes.Ifyousawthisplaceasitreallyis,yourlimitedmortalsenseswouldmelt.“Great,”Imuttered.“Ijustlovehavingmysensesmelted.”The boat scraped against the shore, stirring up a few live scarabs. The whole beach seemed to

squirmandwrithe.Once,allthesescarabswerealive,Horussaid,thesymbolofRa’sdailyrebirth,holdingbackthe

enemy.Nowonlyafewremain.TheSerpentslowlydevourshiswayout.“Wait,”Isaid.“Youmean…”Infrontofme,theshorelineswelledassomethingunderneathpushedupward—avastshapestraining

tobreakfree.Igrippedmyswordandjavelin;butevenwithallthestrengthandcourageofHorus,Ifoundmyself

trembling. Red light glowed beneath the scarab shells. They crackled and shifted as the thing belowsurgedtowardthesurface.Throughthethinninglayerofdeadbugs,aten-foot-wideredcirclestaredupatme—aserpent’seye,fullofhatredandhunger.Eveninmygodlyform,IfeltthepowerofChaoswashingovermelikelethalradiation,cookingmefromtheinsideout,eatingintomysoul—andIbelievedwhatHorushadsaid.IfIwerehereintheflesh,Iwouldbeburnedtoashes.

“It’sbreakingfree.”Mythroatstartedclosingupwithpanic.“Horus,it’sgettingout—”Yes,hesaid.Soon…Horusguidedmyarm.Iraisedmyspearandthrustit intotheSerpent’seye.Apophishowledwith

rage.Theriverbanktrembled.ThenApophissankbeneaththedeadscarabshells,andtheredglowfaded.Butnottoday,Horussaid.Ontheequinox,thebondswillweakenenoughfortheSerpenttobreak

freeatlast.Becomemyavataragain,Carter.Helpmeleadthegodsintobattle.TogetherwemaybeabletostoptheriseofApophis.ButifyouawakenRaandhetakesbackthethrone,willhehavethestrengthtorule?IsthisboatinanyshapetosailtheDuatagain?

“Whydidyouhelpmefindthescroll,then?”Iasked.“Ifyoudon’twantRaawakened—”

Itmustbeyourchoice,Horus said. I believe in you,CarterKane.Whatever youdecide, Iwillsupportyou.Butmanyoftheothergodsdonotfeelthesame.Theythinkourchanceswouldbebetterwithmeastheirkingandgeneral,leadingthemintobattleagainsttheSerpent.TheyseeyourplantoawakenRaasfoolishanddangerous.ItisallIcandotopreventopenrebellion.Imaynotbeabletostopthemfromattackingyouandtryingtopreventyou.

“Justwhatweneed,”Isaid.“Moreenemies.”Itdoesnothavetobethatway,Horussaid.Nowyouhaveseentheenemy.Whodoyouthinkhas

thebestchancetostandagainsttheLordofChaos—RaorHorus?Theboatpushedaway from thedark shore.Horus releasedmyba, andmyconsciousness floated

backtothemortalworldlikeaheliumballoon.Therestofthenight,Idreamedaboutalandscapeofdeadscarabs,andaredeyeglaringfromthedepthsofaweakeningprison.

IfIactedalittleshakenupthenextmorning,nowyouknowwhy.IspentalotoftimewonderingwhyHorushadshowedmethatvision.Theobviousanswer:Horus

wasnowkingof thegods.Hedidn’twantRacomingback tochallengehisauthority.Gods tend tobeselfish. Even when they’re helpful, they always have their own motives. That’s why you have to becarefulabouttrustingthem.

Ontheotherhand,Horushadapoint.Rahadbeenoldfivethousandyearsago.Nooneknewwhatkindofshapehewasinnow.Evenifwemanagedtowakehim,therewasnoguaranteehewouldhelp.Ifhelookedasbadashisboat,Ididn’tseehowRacoulddefeatApophis.

Horus had asked me who stood the best chance against the Lord of Chaos. Scary truth: when Isearched my heart, the answer was none of us. Not the gods. Not the magicians. Not even all of usworking together.Horuswanted tobe theking and lead thegods intobattle, but this enemywasmorepowerfulthananythinghe’deverfaced.Apophiswasasancientastheuniverse,andheonlyfearedoneenemy:Ra.

BringingRabackmightnotwork,butmyinstinctstoldmeitwasouronlyshot.Andfrankly,thefactthateveryonekepttellingmeitwasabadidea—Bast,Horus,evenSadie—madememorecertainitwastherightthingtodo.I’mkindofstubbornthatway.

Therightchoiceishardlyevertheeasychoice,mydadhadoftentoldme.DadhaddefiedtheentireHouseofLife.He’dsacrificedhisownlifetounleashthegodsbecausehe

wassureitwastheonlywaytosavetheworld.Nowitwastimeformetomakethedifficultchoice.

Fast-forwardpastbreakfastandmyargumentwithSadie.Aftershejumpedthroughtheportal,Istayedontheroofwithnocompanybutmynewfriendthepsychoticgriffin.

Hescreamed“FREEEEK!”somuchthatIdecidedtocallhimFreak;plus,itfithispersonality.I’dexpectedhimtodisappearovernight—toeitherflyawayorreturntotheDuat—butheseemedhappyinhisnewroost.I’dfeathereditwithastackofmorningnewspapers,allofthemfeaturingheadlinesaboutthebizarresewergaseruptionthathadsweptthroughBrooklynthenightbefore.Accordingtothereports,the gas had ignited ghostly fires across the borough, caused extensive damage at the museum, andoverwhelmed some people with nausea, dizziness, and even hallucinations of rhinoceros-sizehummingbirds.Stupidsewergas.

IwastossingFreakmoreroastedturkeys(jeez,hehadanappetite)whenBastappearednexttome.“Normally,Ienjoybirds,”shesaid.“Butthatthingisdisturbing.”“FREEEEK!”saidFreak.HeandBastregardedeachotherasifeachwaswonderingwhattheother

wouldtastelikeforlunch.Bastsniffed.“You’renotgoingtokeepit,areyou?”“Well,he’snottieduporanything,”Isaid.“Hecouldleaveifhewantedto.Ithinkhelikesithere.”

“Wonderful,”Bastmuttered.“OnemorethingthatmightkillyouwhileI’mgone.”Personally,I thoughtFreakandIweregettingalongprettywell,butIfigurednothingIsaidwould

reassureBast.She was dressed for travel. Over her usual leopard-skin bodysuit she wore a long black coat

embroideredwithprotectivehieroglyphs.Whenshemoved,thefabricshimmered,makingherfadeinandoutofsight.

“Becareful,”Itoldher.Shesmiled.“I’macat,Carter.Icanlookaftermyself.I’mmoreworriedaboutyouandSadiewhile

I’mgone.IfyourvisionisaccurateandApophis’sprisonisclose tobreaking…?Well, I’llbebackassoonasIcan.”

Therewasn’tmuchIcouldsaytothat.Ifmyvisionwasaccurate,wewereallindeeptrouble.“Imaybeoutoftouchforacoupleofdays,”shecontinued.“Myfriendshouldgetherebeforeyou

andSadieleaveonyourquesttomorrow.He’llmakesureyoutwostayalive.”“Can’tyouatleasttellmehisname?”Bast gave me a look that was either amused or nervous—possibly both. “He’s a little hard to

explain.I’dbetterlethimintroducehimself.”Withthat,Bastkissedmeontheforehead.“Takecare,mykit.”Iwastoostunnedtorespond.IthoughtofBastasSadie’sprotector.Iwasjustkindofanadd-on.But

hervoiceheldsuchaffection,Iprobablyblushed.Sherantotheedgeoftheroofandjumped.Iwasn’tworriedabouther,though.Iwasprettysureshe’dlandonherfeet.

Iwantedtokeepthingsasnormalaspossibleforthetrainees,soIledmyusualmorningclass.IcalleditMagicProblem-Solving101.ThetraineescalleditWhateverWorks.

Igavethetraineesaproblem.Theycouldsolveitanywaytheywanted.Assoonastheysucceeded,theycouldgo.

Iguess thiswasn’tmuch like real school,whereyouhave to stayuntil theendof thedayeven ifyou’rejustdoingbusywork;butI’dneverbeentoarealschool.Allthoseyearshomeschoolingwithmydad,I’dlearnedatmyownpace.WhenIfinishedmyassignmentstomydad’ssatisfaction,theschooldaywasover.Thesystemworkedforme,andthetraineesseemedtolikeit,too.

IalsothoughtZiaRashidwouldapprove.ThefirsttimeSadieandItrainedwithZia,she’dtoldusthatmagiccouldn’tbelearnedfromclassroomsandtextbooks.Youhadtolearnbydoing.SoforMagicProblem-Solving101,weheadedtothetrainingroomandblewstuffup.

TodayIhadfourstudents.Therestofthetraineeswouldbeoffresearchingtheirownpathsofmagic,practicingenchantments,ordoingregularschoolworkunderthesupervisionofourcollege-ageinitiates.AsourmainadultchaperonewhileAmoswasgone,Basthadinsistedwekeepeveryoneup-to-speedontheregularsubjectslikemathandreading,althoughshedidsometimesaddherownelectivecourses,suchasAdvancedCatGrooming,orNapping.TherewasawaitinglisttogetintoNapping.

Anyway, the training room tookupmostof the second floor. Itwasabout the sizeofabasketballcourt,whichiswhatweuseditforintheevenings.Ithadahardwoodfloor,godstatuesliningthewalls,andavaultedceilingwithpicturesofAncientEgyptiansrockingthatsidewayswalktheyalwaysdo.Onthebaselinewalls,we’d stuck falcon-headed statuesofRaperpendicular to the floor, ten feet up, andhollowedouttheirsun-diskcrownssowecouldusethemasbasketballhoops.Probablyblasphemous—buthey,ifRadidn’thaveasenseofhumor,thatwashisproblem.

Waltwaswaiting forme, alongwith Julian,Felix, andAlyssa. Jaz almost always showedup forthesesessions,butofcourseJazwasstill inacoma…andthatwasaproblemnoneofusknewhowtosolve.

I attempted to put on my confident teacher-face. “Okay, guys. Today we’ll try some combat

simulations.We’llstartsimple.”I pulled four shabti figurines from my bag and placed them in different corners of the room. I

stationedonetraineeinfrontofeach.ThenIspokeacommandword.Thefourstatuettesgrewintofull-sizeEgyptianwarriorsarmedwithswordsandshields.Theyweren’tsuper-realistic.Theirskinlookedlikeglazedceramic,andtheymovedslowerthanrealhumans;butthey’dbegoodenoughforstarters.

“Felix?”Icalled.“Nopenguins.”“Aw,c’mon!”Felixbelievedthat theanswertoeveryprobleminvolvedpenguins;but itwasn’tfair to thebirds,

and I was getting tired of teleporting them back home. Somewhere in Antarctica, a whole flock ofMagellanicpenguinswasundergoingpsychotherapy.

“Begin!”Iyelled,andtheshabtiattacked.Julian,abigseventhgraderwho’dalreadydecidedonthepathofHorus,wentstraightintobattle.He

hadn’tquitemasteredsummoningacombatavatar,butheencasedhisfistingoldenenergylikeawreckingballandpunchedtheshabti.Itflewbackwardintowall,crackingtopieces.Onedown.

AlyssahadbeenstudyingthepathofGeb,theearthgod.NobodyatBrooklynHousewasanexpertinearthmagic,butAlyssararelyneededhelp.She’dgrownupinafamilyofpottersinNorthCarolina,andhadbeenworkingwithclaysinceshewasalittlegirl.

Shedodgedtheshabti’sclumsyswingandtoucheditontheback.Ahieroglyphglowedagainstitsclayarmor:

Nothingseemedtohappentothewarrior,butwhenitturnedtostrike,Alyssajuststoodthere.Iwasabouttoyellathertoduck,buttheshabtimissedhercompletely.Itsbladehitthefloor,andthewarriorstumbled.Itattackedagain,swinginghalfadozentimes,butitsbladenevergotclosetoAlyssa.Finallythewarriorturnedinconfusionandstaggeredtothecorneroftheroom,whereitbangeditsheadagainstthewallandshudderedtoastop.

Alyssagrinnedatme.“Sa-per,”sheexplained.“HieroglyphforMiss.”“Niceone,”Isaid.Meanwhile,Felixfoundanon-penguinsolution.Ihadnoideawhattypeofmagichemighteventually

specializein,buttodayhewentforsimpleandviolent.Hegrabbedabasketballfromthebench,waitedfortheshabtitotakeastep,thenbouncedtheballoffitshead.Histimingwasperfect.Theshabtilostitsbalanceandfellover,itsswordarmcrackingoff.Felixwalkedoverandstompedontheshabtiuntil itbroketopieces.

Helookedatmewithsatisfaction.“Youdidn’tsaywehadtousemagic.”“Fairenough.”ImadeamentalnotenevertoplaybasketballwithFelix.Waltwas themost interesting towatch.Hewasasau, a charmmaker, sohe tended to fightwith

whatevermagicitemshehadonhand.Ineverknewwhathewasgoingtodo.As for his path,Walt hadn’t decidedwhichgod’smagic to study.Hewas a good researcher like

Thoth,thegodofknowledge.HecouldusescrollsandpotionsalmostaswellasSadie,sohecould’vechosen the path of Isis. He might have even chosen Osiris, because Walt was a natural at bringinginanimatethingstolife.

Today he was taking his time, fingering his amulets and considering his options. As the shabtiapproached,Waltretreated.IfWalthadaweakness,itwashiscautiousness.Helikedtothinkalongtimebeforeheacted.Inotherwords,hewasSadie’sexactopposite.

[Don’tpunchme,Sadie.It’strue!]

“C’mon,Walt,”Juliancalled.“Killitalready.”“You’vegotthis,”Alyssasaid.Waltreachedforoneofhisrings.ThenhesteppedbackwardandstumbledovertheshardsofFelix’s

brokenshabti.Ishouted,“Lookout!”ButWaltslippedandfellhard.Hisshabtiopponentrushedforward,slashingdownwithitssword.I raced to help, but Iwas too far away.Walt’s handwas already rising instinctively to block the

strike. The enchanted ceramic blade was almost as sharp as real metal. It should’ve hurtWalt prettybadly,buthegrabbed it, and theshabti froze.UnderWalt’s fingers, theblade turnedgray andbecamewebbedwithcracks.Thegrayspreadlikefrostovertheentirewarrior,andtheshabticrumbled intoapileofdust.

Waltlookedstunned.Heopenedhishand,whichwasperfectlyfine.“Thatwascool!”Felixsaid.“Whatamuletwasthat?”Waltgavemeanervousglance,andIknewtheanswer.Itwasn’tanamulet.Walthadnoideahow

he’ddoneit.That would have been enough excitement for one day. Seriously. But the weirdness was just

beginning.Beforeeitherofuscouldsayanything,thefloorshook.IthoughtmaybeWalt’smagicwasspreading

intothebuilding,whichwouldn’thavebeengood.Ormaybesomeonebelowuswasexperimentingwithexplodingdonkeycursesagain.

Alyssayelped.“Guys…”ShepointedtothestatueofRajuttingoutfromthewall,tenfeetaboveus.Ourgodlybasketballhoop

wascrumbling.AtfirstIwasn’tsurewhatIwasseeing.TheRastatuewasn’tturningtodustliketheshabti.Itwas

breakingapart,fallingtothefloorinpieces.Thenmystomachclenched.Thepiecesweren’tstone.Thestatuewasturningintoscarabshells.

Thelastofthestatuecrumbledaway,andthepileofdungbeetlehusksbegantomove.Threeserpentheadsrosefromthecenter.

Idon’tmindtellingyou:Ipanicked.IthoughtmyvisionofApophiswascomingtruerightthenandthere. I stumbled back so quickly, I ran intoAlyssa.The only reason I didn’t bolt from the roomwasbecausefourtraineeswerelookingtomeforreassurance.

Itcan’tbeApophis,Itoldmyself.Thesnakesemerged,andIrealizedtheyweren’tthreedifferentanimals.Itwasonemassivecobra

withthreeheads.Evenweirder,itunfurledapairofhawklikewings.Thething’strunkwasasthickasmyleg.Itstood

as tallasme,but itwasn’tnearlybigenough tobeApophis. Itseyesweren’tglowing red.Theywereregularcreepygreensnakeeyes.

Still…withallthreeheadsstaringrightatme,Ican’tsayIrelaxed.“Carter?”Felixaskeduneasily.“Isthispartofthelesson?”Theserpenthissedinthree-partharmony.Itsvoiceseemedtospeakinsidemyhead—anditsounded

exactlylikethebauintheBrooklynMuseum.Yourlastwarning,CarterKane,itsaid.Givemethescroll.My heart skipped a beat. The scroll—Sadie had given it to me after breakfast. Stupid me—I

should’velockeditup,putitinoneofoursecurecubbyholesinthelibrary;butitwasstillinthebagonmyshoulder.

Whatareyou?Iaskedthesnake.“Carter.”Juliandrewhissword.“Doweattack?”

Mytraineesgavenoindicationthatthey’dheardeitherthesnakeormespeak.Alyssaraisedherhandslikeshewasreadytocatchadodgeball.Waltpositionedhimselfbetween

thesnakeandFelix,andFelixleanedsidewaystoseearoundhim.Give it tome. The serpent coiled to strike, crushing dead beetle shells under its body. Itswings

spreadsowide,theycould’vewrappedaroundusall.Giveupyourquest,orIwilldestroythegirlyouseek,justasIdestroyedhervillage.

Itriedtodrawmysword,butmyarmswouldn’tmove.Ifeltparalyzed,asifthosethreesetsofeyeshadputmeintoatrance.

Hervillage,Ithought.Zia’svillage.Snakescan’tlaugh,butthisthing’shisssoundedamused.You’llhavetomakeachoice,CarterKane—thegirlorthegod.Abandonyourfoolishquest,or

soonyou’llbejustanotherdryhusklikeRa’sscarabs.Myanger savedme. I shookoff theparalysis andyelled, “Kill it!” just as the serpent opened its

mouths,blastingoutthreecolumnsofflames.I raised a green shield ofmagic to deflect the fire. Julian chucked his sword like a throwing-ax.

Alyssagesturedwithherhandandthreestonestatuesleapedofftheirpedestals,flyingattheserpent.Waltfiredaboltofgraylightfromhiswand.AndFelixtookoffhisleftshoeandlobbeditatthemonster.

Rightaboutthen,itsuckedtobetheserpent.Julian’sswordslicedoffoneofitsheads.Felix’sshoebouncedoffanother.TheblastfromWalt’swandturnedthethirdtodust.ThenAlyssa’sstatuesslammedintoit,smashingthemonsterunderatonofstone.

Whatwasleftoftheserpent’sbodydissolvedintosand.Theroomwassuddenlyquiet.Myfourtraineeslookedatme.Ireacheddownandpickeduponeof

thescarabshells.“Carter,thatwaspartofthelesson,right?”Felixasked.“Tellmethatwaspartofthelesson.”Ithoughtabouttheserpent’svoice—thesamevoiceasthebau’sintheBrooklynMuseum.Irealized

whyitsoundedsofamiliar.I’dhearditbeforeduringthebattleattheRedPyramid.“Carter?”Felixlookedlikehewasabouttocry.Hewassuchatroublemaker,Isometimesforgothe

wasonlynineyearsold.“Yes,justatest,”Ilied.IlookedatWalt,andwecametoasilentagreement:Weneedtotalkabout

thislater.Butfirst,Ihadsomeoneelsetoquestion.“Classdismissed.”IrantofindAmos.

CARTER

6.ABirdbathAlmostKillsMe

AMOSTURNEDTHESCARABSHELLinhisfingers.“Athree-headedsnake,yousay.”I feltguiltydumping thisonhim.He’dbeen throughsomuchsinceChristmas.Thenhe finallygot

healedandcamehome,andboom—amonsterinvadesourpracticeroom.ButIdidn’tknowwhoelsetotalkto.IwaskindofsorrySadiewasn’taround.

[Allright,Sadie,don’tgloat.Iwasn’tthatsorry.]“Yeah,”Isaid,“withwingsandflamethrowerbreath.Everseensomethinglikethatbefore?”Amosputthescarabshellonthetable.Henudgedit,asifexpectingittocometolife.Wehadthe

library toourselves,whichwasunusual.Often, thebig roundchamberwas filledwith traineeshuntingthroughrowsofcubbyholesforscrolls,orsendingretrievalshabtiacrosstheworldforartifacts,books,orpizza.PaintedonthefloorwasapictureofGebtheearthgod,hisbodydottedwithtreesandrivers.Aboveus,thestarry-skinnedskygoddessNutstretchedacrosstheceiling.Iusuallyfeltsafeinthisroom,shelteredbetweentwogodswho’dbeenfriendlytousinthepast.ButnowIkeptglancingattheretrievalshabtistationedaroundthelibraryandwonderingiftheywoulddissolveintoscarabshellsordecidetoattackus.

FinallyAmosspokeacommandword:“A’max.”Burn.Asmallredhieroglyphblazedoverthescarab:

Theshellburstintoflamesandcrumbledtoatinymoundofash.“Iseemtorecallapainting,”Amossaid,“in the tombofThuthmoseIII. Itshoweda three-headed

wingedsnakeliketheoneyoudescribed.Butwhatitmeans…”Heshookhishead.“SnakescanbegoodorbadinEgyptianlegend.TheycanbetheenemiesofRa,orhisprotectors.”

“Thiswasn’taprotector,”Isaid.“Itwantedthescroll.”“Andyetithadthreeheads,whichmightsymbolizethethreeaspectsofRa.Anditwasbornfromthe

rubbleofRa’sstatue.”“It wasn’t from Ra,” I insisted. “Why would Ra want to stop us from finding him? Besides, I

recognizedthesnake’svoice.Itwasthevoiceofyour—”Ibitmytongue.“Imean, itwas thevoiceofSet’sminionfromtheRedPyramid—theonewhowaspossessedbyApophis.”

Amos’seyesbecameunfocused.“FaceofHorror,”heremembered.“YouthinkApophiswasspeakingtoyouthroughthisserpent?”Inodded.“IthinkhesetthosetrapsattheBrooklynMuseum.Hespoketomethroughthatbau.Ifhe’s

sopowerfulthathecaninfiltratethismansion—”“No, Carter. Even if you’re right, it wasn’tApophis himself. If he’d broken out of his prison, it

wouldcauseripplesthroughtheDuatsopowerful,everymagicianwouldfeel them.Butpossessingthemindsofminions, even sending them intoprotectedplaces todeliveramessage—that’smucheasier. Idon’t think that snake could’vedoneyoumuchharm. Itwould’vebeenquiteweak after breachingourdefenses.Itwasmostlysenttowarnyou,andscareyou.”

“Itworked,”Isaid.

Ididn’taskAmoshowheknewsomuchaboutpossessionandthewaysofChaos.HavinghadhisbodytakenoverbySet,thegodofevil,hadgivenhimanintensivecrashcourseinstufflikethat.Nowheseemed back to normal, but I knew frommyown experience of sharing amindwithHorus: once youhosted a god—whether it was voluntary or not—you were never quite the same. You retained thememories,evensometracesofthegod’spower.Icouldn’thelpnoticingthatthecolorofAmos’smagichadchanged.Itusedtobeblue.Nowwhenhesummonedhieroglyphs,theyglowedred—thecolorofSet.

“I’llstrengthenthecharmsaroundthehouse,”hepromised.“It’shightimeIupgradedoursecurity.I’llmakesureApophiscan’tsendmessengersthroughagain.”

Inodded,buthispromisedidn’tmakemefeelmuchbetter.Tomorrow,ifSadiecamebacksafely,we’dbeoffonaquest to find theother twoscrolls for the

BookofRa.Sure,we’dsurvivedour lastadventure fightingSet,butApophiswas ina totallydifferent league.

And we weren’t hosting gods anymore.We were just kids, facing evil magicians, demons, monsters,spirits,andtheeternalLordofChaos.Inthepluscolumn,Ihadacrankysister,asword,ababoon,andagriffinwithapersonalitydisorder.Iwasn’tlikingthoseodds.

“Amos,”Isaid,“whatifwe’rewrong?WhatifawakeningRadoesn’twork?”IthadbeenalongtimesinceI’dseenmyunclesmile.Hedidn’tlookmuchlikemyfather,butwhen

hesmiled,hegotthesamecrinklesaroundhiseyes.“Myboy, lookwhatyou’veaccomplished.YouandSadiehave rediscoveredawayofmagic that

hasn’tbeenpracticedinmillennia.You’vetakenyourtraineesfurtherintwomonthsthanmostFirstNomeinitiates would get in two years. You’ve battled gods. You’ve accomplished more than any livingmagicianhas—evenme,evenMichelDesjardins.Trustyourinstincts.IfIwereabettingman,mymoneywouldbeonyouandyoursistereverytime.”

Alumpformedinmythroat.Ihadn’tgottenapeptalklikethatsincemydadwasstillalive,andIguessIhadn’trealizedhowmuchIneededone.

Unfortunately,hearingDesjardins’nameremindedmethatwehadotherproblemsbesidesApophis.Assoonaswestartedourquest,amagicalRussianicecreamsalesmannamedVladtheInhalerwasgoingtotrytoassassinateus.AndifVladwasthethird-mostpowerfulmagicianintheworld…

“Who’ssecond?”Iasked.Amosfrowned.“Whatdoyoumean?”“YousaidthisRussianguy,VladMenshikov,isthethird-mostpowerfulmagicianalive.Desjardins

isthemostpowerful.Sowho’ssecond?Iwanttoknowifwehaveanotherenemytolookoutfor.”The idea seemed to amuseAmos. “Don’t worry about that. And despite your past dealingswith

Desjardins,Iwouldnotsayhe’strulyanenemy.”“Tellhimthat,”Imuttered.“Idid,Carter.Wetalkedseveral timeswhileIwasat theFirstNome.I thinkwhatyouandSadie

accomplishedat theRedPyramidshookhimdeeply.HeknowshecouldnothavedefeatedSetwithoutyou.Hestillopposesyou,butifwehadmoretime,Imightbeabletoconvincehim…”

ThatsoundedaboutaslikelyasApophisandRabecomingFacebookbuddies,butIdecidednottosayanything.

Amos passed his hand over the tabletop and spoke a spell. A red holograph of Ra appeared—aminiaturereplicaofthestatueinthepracticeroom.ThesungodlookedlikeHorus:afalcon-headedman.ButunlikeHorus,Raworethesundiskasacrownandheldashepherd’scrookandawarflail—thetwosymbols of the pharaoh.Hewas dressed in robes rather than armor, sitting calmly and regally on histhrone, as if he were happy to watch others do the fighting. The god’s image looked strange in red,glowingwiththecolorofChaos.

“Something else youmust consider,” Amoswarned. “I don’t say this to discourage you, but you

askedwhyRamightwanttostopyoufromwakinghim.TheBookofRawasdividedforareason.Itwasmadeintentionallydifficulttofind,soonlytheworthywouldsucceed.Youshouldexpectchallengesandobstaclesonyourquest.Theother twoscrollswillbeat leastaswellprotectedas the first.Andyoushouldaskyourself:Whathappensifyouwakeagodwhodoesnotwanttobeawakened?”

Thedoorsofthelibrarybangedopen,andIalmostjumpedoutofmychair.Cleoandthreeothergirlscamein,chattingandlaughingwiththeirarmsfullofscrolls.

“Here’smy researchclass.”Amos flickedhishand,and theholographofRadisappeared.“We’llspeakagain,Carter,perhapsafterlunch.”

I nodded, though even then I had a suspicionwe’d never get to finish our conversation.When Ilookedbackfromthedoorofthelibrary,Amoswasgreetinghisstudents,casuallywipingtheashesofthescarabshelloffthetable.

Igot tomyroomandfoundKhufucrashedonthebed,surfing thesportschannels.HewaswearinghisfavoriteLakersjerseyandhadabowlofCheetosonhisstomach.Eversinceourtraineesmovedin,theGreat Room had gotten too noisy for Khufu to watch TV in peace, so he’d decided to become myroommate.

Iguessitwasacompliment,butsharingspacewithababoonwasn’teasy.Youthinkdogsandcatsshed?Trygettingmonkeyhairoffyourclothes.

“What’sup?”Iasked.“Agh!”That’sprettymuchwhathealwayssaid.“Great,”Itoldhim.“I’llbeonthebalcony.”Itwas still cold and rainyoutside.Thewindoff theEastRiverwould’vemadeFelix’s penguins

shiver,butIdidn’tmind.Forfirsttimethatday,Icouldfinallybealone.Since our trainees had come to Brooklyn House, I felt like I was always onstage. I had to act

confidentevenwhenIhaddoubts.Icouldn’tlosemytemperwithanybody(well,exceptSadieonceinawhile), and when things went wrong, I couldn’t complain too loudly. The other kids had come longdistancestotrainwithus.Manyofthemhadfoughtmonstersormagiciansontheway.Icouldn’tadmitIhadnoideawhatIwasdoing,orwonderaloudwhetherthispath-of-the-godsthingwasgoingtogetusallkilled.Icouldn’tsay,Nowthatyou’rehere,maybethiswasn’tsuchagoodidea.

ButtherewereplentyoftimeswhenthatwashowIfelt.WithKhufuoccupyingmyroom,thebalconywastheonlyplaceIcouldbedepressedinsolitude.

I lookedacross theriver toManhattan.Itwasagreatview.WhenSadieandIhadfirstarrivedatBrooklynHouse,AmoshadtoldusthatmagicianstriedtostayoutofManhattan.HesaidManhattanhadotherproblems—whatever thatmeant.AndsometimeswhenI lookedacross thewater, Icouldswear Iwas seeing things. Sadie laughed about it, but once I thought I saw a flying horse. Probably just themansion’smagicbarrierscausingopticalillusions,butstill,itwasweird.

Iturnedtotheonlypieceoffurnitureonthebalcony:myscryingbowl.Itlookedlikeabirdbath—justabronzesauceronastonepedestal—butitwasmyfavoritemagicitem.Walthadmadeitformerightafterhehadarrived.

Oneday,I’dmentionedhowniceitwouldbetoknowwhatwasgoingonin theothernomes,andhe’dmademethisbowl.

I’d seen initiatesuse them in theFirstNome,but they’dalways seemedprettydifficult tomaster.Fortunately,Waltwasanexpertwithenchantments.Ifmyscryingbowlhadbeenacar,itwouldhavebeenaCadillac,withpowersteering,automatic transmission,andabuttwarmer.All Ihad todowas fill itwithcleanoliveoilandspeakthecommandword.Thebowlwouldshowmeanything,aslongasIcouldvisualizeitanditwasn’tshieldedbymagic.PlacesI’dneverbeentowerehardtosee.Peopleorplaces

thatI’dseenpersonallyorthatmeantalottome—thosewereusuallyeasy.I’dsearchedforZiaahundredtimeswithnoluck.AllIknewwasthatheroldmentor,Iskandar,had

putherintoamagicalsleepandhiddenhersomewhere,replacingherwithashabtitokeephersafe;butIhadnoideawheretherealZiawassleeping.

I tried something new. I passedmy hand over the saucer and imagined the Place of Red Sands.Nothinghappened.I’dneverbeenthere,hadnoideawhatitlookedlikeapartfrompossiblybeingredandsandy.Theoilshowedmeonlymyownreflection.

Okay,soIcouldn’tseeZia.Ididthenextbestthing.IconcentratedonhersecretroomintheFirstNome.I’dbeenthereonlyonce,butIrememberedeverydetail.ItwasthefirstplacewhereI’dfeltclosetoZia.Thesurfaceoftheoilrippledandbecameamagicalvideofeed.

Nothing had changed in the room.Magic candles still burned on the little table. ThewallswerecoveredwithZia’sphotographs—picturesofherfamilyvillageontheNile,hermotherandfather,Ziaasasmallchild.

Zia had told me the story of how her father had unearthed an Egyptian relic and accidentallyunleashedamonsterontheirvillage.Magicianscametodefeatthemonster,butnotbeforetheentiretownwasdestroyed.OnlyZia,hiddenbyherparents,hadsurvived.Iskandar,theoldChiefLector,hadtakenhertotheFirstNomeandtrainedher.He’dbeenlikeafathertoher.

Then,lastChristmas,thegodshadbeenunleashedattheBritishMuseum.Oneofthem—Nephthys—had chosenZia as a host.Being a “godling”was punishable by death in theFirstNome,whether youmeanttohostthegod’sspiritornot,soIskandarhadhiddenZiaaway.He’dprobablymeanttobringherbackafterhesortedthingsout,buthehaddiedbeforethatcouldhappen.

So theZia I’d knownwas a replica, but I had to believe the shabti and the real Zia had sharedthoughts.Wherever therealZiawas,shewouldremembermewhenshewokeup.She’dknowthatwesharedaconnection—maybethestartofagreatrelationship.Icouldn’tacceptthatI’dfalleninlovewithnothingbutapieceofpottery.AndIdefinitelycouldn’tacceptthatZiawasbeyondmypowertorescue.

I concentrated on the image in the oil. I zoomed in on a photograph ofZia riding on her father’sshoulders.Shewasyounginthephoto,butyoucouldtellshewasgoingtobebeautifulwhenshegrewup.Herglossyblackhairwascutinashortwedge,asithadbeenwhenIknewher.Hereyeswerebrilliantamber.Thephotographerhadcaughthermid-laugh, trying tocoverherdad’seyeswithherhands.Hersmileradiatedplayfulmischief.

Iwilldestroythegirlyouseek,thethree-headedsnakehadsaid,justasIdestroyedhervillage.IwassurehemeantZia’svillage.ButwhatdidthatattacksixyearsagohavetodowithApophis’s

risingnow?Ifithadn’tbeenjustarandomaccident—ifApophishadmeanttodestroyZia’shome—thenwhy?

IhadtofindZia.Itwasn’tjustpersonalanymore.ShewasconnectedsomehowtothecomingbattlewithApophis.Andifthesnake’swarningwastrue—ifIhadtochoosebetweenfindingtheBookofRaandsavingZia?Well,I’dalreadylostmymom,mydad,andmyoldlifeforthesakeofstoppingApophis.Iwasn’tgoingtoloseZiatoo.

I was contemplating how hard Sadie would kick me if she heard me say that, when somebodyknockedonthebalcony’sglassdoor.

“Hey.”Waltstoodinthedoorway,holdingKhufu’shand.“Um,hopeyoudon’tmind.Khufuletmein.”

“Agh!”Khufuconfirmed.HeledWaltoutside,thenjumpedontherailing,disregardingthehundred-footdroptotheriverbelow.

“No problem,” I said. Not like I had a choice. Khufu lovedWalt, probably because he playedbasketballbetterthanIdid.

Waltnoddedatthescryingbowl.“How’sthatworkingforyou?”

TheimageofZia’sroomstillshimmeredintheoil.Iwavedmyhandoverthebowlandchangedittosomethingelse.SinceI’dbeenthinkingaboutSadie,IpickedGranandGramps’slivingroom.

“Workingfine.”IturnedbacktoWalt.“Howareyoufeeling?”Forsomereason,hiswholebodytensed.HelookedatmelikeIwastryingtocornerhim.“Whatdo

youmean?”“Thetrainingroomincident.Thethree-headedsnake.WhatdidyouthinkImeant?”The tendons in his neck relaxed. “Right…sorry, just a weird morning. Did Amos have an

explanation?”IwonderedwhatI’dsaidtoupsethim,butIdecidedtoletitpass.Ifilledhiminonmyconversation

withAmos.Waltwasusuallyprettycalmaboutstuff.Hewasagoodlistener.Buthestillseemedguarded,onedge.

WhenIwasdonetalking,hesteppedovertotherailingwhereKhufuwasperched.“Apophisletthatthinglooseinthehouse?Ifwehadn’tstoppedit—”

“Amosthinkstheserpentdidn’thavemuchpower.Itwasjustheretodeliveramessageandscareus.”

Waltshookhisheadindismay.“Well…nowitknowsourabilities,Iguess.ItknowsFelixthrowsameanshoe.”

Icouldn’thelpbutsmile.“Yeah.Exceptthatwasn’ttheabilityIwasthinkingof.Thatgraylightyoublastedthesnakewith…andthewayyouhandledtheshabtipracticedummy,turningittodust—”

“HowdidIdoit?”Waltshruggedhelplessly.“Honest,Carter,Idon’tknow.I’vebeenthinkingaboutit ever since, and…itwas just instinctive. At first I thoughtmaybe the shabti had some kind of self-destruct spell built into it, and I accidentally triggered it.Sometimes I cando thatwithmagic items—causethemtoactivateorshutdown.”

“Butthatwouldn’texplainhowyoudiditagainwiththeserpent.”“No,”heagreed.HeseemedevenmoredistractedbytheincidentthanIwas.Khufustartedgrooming

Walt’shair,lookingforbugs,andWaltdidn’teventrytostophim.“Walt…”Ihesitated,notwantingtopushhim.“Thisnewability,turningthingstodust—itwouldn’t

haveanythingtodowith…youknow,whateveryouweretellingJaz?”Thereitwasagain:thatcaged-animallook.“Iknow,” I saidquickly, “it’snoneofmybusiness.Butyou’vebeenactingupset lately. If there’s

anythingIcando…”Hestareddownattheriver.Helookedsodepressed,Khufugruntedandpattedhimontheshoulder.“SometimesIwonderwhyIcamehere,”Waltsaid.“Areyoukidding?”Iasked.“You’regreatatmagic.Oneofthebest!You’vegotafuturehere.”He pulled something out of his pocket—one of the dried-up scarabs from the practice room.

“Thanks.Butthetiming…it’slikeabadjoke.Thingsarecomplicatedforme,Carter.Andthefuture…Idon’tknow.”

Igotthefeelinghewastalkingaboutmorethanourfour-daydeadlinetosavetheworld.“Look,ifthere’saproblem…”Isaid.“Ifit’ssomethingaboutthewaySadieandIareteaching—”“Ofcoursenot.You’vebeengreat.AndSadie—”“Shelikesyoualot,”Isaid.“Iknowshecancomeonalittlestrong.Ifyouwanthertobackoff…”[Okay, Sadie. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. But you aren’t exactly subtle when you like

somebody.Ifigureditmightbemakingtheguyuncomfortable.]Waltactuallylaughed.“No,it’snothingaboutSadie.Ilikeher,too.I’mjust—”“Agh!”Khufubarkedsoloudly,itmademejump.Hebaredhisfangs.Iturnedandrealizedthathe

wassnarlingatthescryingbowl.The scenewas stillGran andGramps’s living room.But as I studied itmore closely, I realized

somethingwaswrong.ThelightsandTVwereoff.Thesofahadbeentippedover.Igotametallictasteinmymouth.IconcentratedonshiftingtheimageuntilIcouldseethefrontdoor.Ithadbeensmashedtopieces.“What’swrong?”Waltcameupnexttome.“Whatisit?”“Sadie…”Ifocusedallmywillpoweronfindingher.IknewhersowellthatIcouldusuallylocate

herinstantly,butthistimetheoilturnedblack.Asharppainstabbedbehindmyeyes,andthesurfaceoftheoileruptedinflames.

Waltpulledmebackbeforemyfacecouldgetburned.Khufubarkedinalarmandtippedthebronzesaucerovertherailing,sendingithurtlingtowardtheEastRiver.

“Whathappened?”Waltasked.“I’veneverseenabowldo—”“PortaltoLondon.”Icoughed,mynostrilsstingingwithburnedoliveoil.“Nearestone.Now!”Waltseemedtounderstand.Hisexpressionhardenedwithresolve.“Ourportal’sstilloncool-down.

We’llneedtogobacktotheBrooklynMuseum.”“Thegriffin,”Isaid.“Yeah.I’mcomingtoo.”IturnedtoKhufu.“GotellAmoswe’releaving.Sadie’sintrouble.Notimetoexplain.”Khufubarkedandleapedstraightoverthesideofthebalcony—takingtheexpresselevatordown.WaltandIboltedfrommyroom,racingupthestairstotheroof.

SADIE

7.AGiftfromtheDog-headedBoy

WELL,YOUTALKEDLONGENOUGH,brotherdear.As you’ve been babbling on, everyone’s been imagining me frozen in the doorway of Gran and

Gramps’sflat,screaming“AAHHHHH!”AndthefactthatyouandWaltboltedofftoLondon,assumingIneededtoberescued—men!Yes,fairenough.Ididneedhelp.Butthat’snotthepoint.Backtothestory:I’djustheardavoicehissingfromupstairs:“Welcomehome,SadieKane.”Ofcourse,Iknewthiswasbadnews.MyhandstingledasifI’dstuckmyfingersinalightsocket.I

triedtosummonmystaffandwand,butasImayhavementioned,I’mrubbishatretrievingthingsfromtheDuatonshortnotice.Icursedmyselffornotcomingprepared—butreally,Icouldn’thavebeenexpectedtowearlinenpajamasandlugaroundamagicduffelbagforanightonthetownwithmymates.

Iconsideredfleeing,butGranandGrampsmightbeindanger.Icouldn’tleavewithoutknowingthattheyweresafe.

Thestairwellcreaked.Atthetop,thehemofablackdressappeared,alongwithsandaledfeetthatweren’tquitehuman.Thetoesweregnarledandleathery,withovergrownnailslikeabird’stalons.Asthewomandescendedintofullview,Imadeaveryundignifiedwhimperingnoise.

Shelookedahundredyearsold,hunchedoverandemaciated.Herface,earlobes,andnecksaggedwithfoldsofwrinklypinkskin,asifshe’dmeltedunderasunlamp.Hernosewasadroopingbeak.Hereyes gleamed in their cavernous sockets, and shewas almost bald—just a few greasy black tufts likeweedspushingthroughhercraggyscalp.

Herdress,however,wasabsolutelyplush.Itwasmidnightblack,fluffy,andhugelikeafurcoatsixsizestoobig.Asshesteppedtowardme,thematerialshifted,andIrealizedthatitwasn’tfur.Thedresswasmadefromblackfeathers.

Herhandsappearedfromhersleeves—clawlikefingersbeckoningmeforward.Hersmilerevealedteethlikebrokenbitsofglass.AnddidImentionthesmell?Notjustoldpersonsmell—olddeadpersonsmell.

“I’vebeenwaitingforyou,”saidthehag.“Fortunately,I’mverypatient.”Igraspedtheairformywand.Ofcourse,Ihadnoluck.WithoutIsisinmyhead,Icouldn’tsimply

speakwordsofpoweranymore.Ihadtohavemytools.MyonlychancewastostallfortimeandhopeIcouldcollectmythoughtsenoughtoaccesstheDuat.

“Whoareyou?”Iasked.“Wherearemygrandparents?”Thehag reached the foot of the stairs. From twometers away, her feathery dress appeared to be

coveredwithbitsof…egad,wasthatmeat?“Don’tyourecognizeme,dear?”Herimageflickered.Herdressturnedintoafloweredhousecoat.

Hersandalsbecamefuzzygreenslippers.Shehadcurlygrayhair,wateryblueeyes,andtheexpressionofastartledrabbit.ItwasGrandmother’sface.

“Sadie?”Hervoicesoundedweakandconfused.“Gran!”Her imagechangedback to theblack-featheredhag,herhorriblemeltedfacegrinningmaliciously.

“Yes,dear.Your family isbloodof thepharaohs,afterall—perfecthosts for thegods.Don’tmakemestrainmyself,though.Yourgrandmother’sheartisn’twhatitusedtobe.”

Mywholebodybegantoshake.I’dseenpossessionbefore,anditwasalwayshideous.Butthis—theideaofsomeEgyptianhagtakingovermypooroldGran—thiswashorrifying.IfIhadanybloodofthepharaohs,itwasturningtoice.

“Leaveheralone!”Imeanttoshout,butI’mafraidmyvoicewasmoreofaterrifiedsqueak.“Getoutofher!”

Thehagcackled.“Oh,Ican’tdothat.Yousee,SadieKane,someofusdoubtyourstrength.”“Someofwho—thegods?”Herfacerippled,momentarilychangingintoahorriblebird’shead,baldandscalypinkwithalong

sharpbeak.Thenshemorphedbackintothegrinninghag.Ireallywishedshewouldmakeuphermind.“Idon’tbother thestrong,SadieKane. In theolddays, Ievenprotected thepharaoh ifheproved

himselfworthy.Buttheweak…Ah,oncetheyfallundertheshadowofmywings,Ineverletthemgo.Iwaitforthemtodie.Iwaittofeed.AndIthink,mydear,thatyouwillbemynextmeal.”

Ipressedmybacktothedoor.“Iknowyou,”Ilied.Frantically,IrandownmymentallistofEgyptiangods,tryingtoplacetheold

hag.Istillwasn’thalfasgoodasCarteratrememberingallthoseoddnames.[Andno,Carter.That’snotacompliment.Itsimplymeansyou’reabiggernerd.]Butafterweeksofteachingourtrainees,I’dgottenbetter.

Namesheldpower.IfIcouldfigureoutmyenemy’sname,thatwasagoodfirststeptodefeatingher.Agrislyblackbird…Abirdthatfeedsonthedead…

Tomyamazement,Iactuallyrememberedsomething.“You’rethevulturegoddess,”Isaidtriumphantly.“Neckbutt,isit?”Theoldhagsnarled.“Nekhbet!”Allright,soIwasclose.“Butyou’resupposedtobeagoodgoddess!”Iprotested.Thegoddessspreadherarms.Theyturnedintowings—black,mattedplumagebuzzingwithfliesand

smellingofdeath.“Vulturesareverygood,SadieKane.Weremovethesicklyandweak.Wecirclethemuntil theydie, then feedon their carcasses, cleaning theworldof their stench.You,on theother hand,wouldbringbackRa, thatwizenedoldcarcassofa sungod.Youwouldplaceaweakpharaohon thethroneofthegods.Itgoesagainstnature!Onlythestrongshouldlive.Thedeadshouldbeeaten.”

Herbreathsmelledlikeroadkill.Despicable creatures, vultures: without a doubt the most disgusting birds ever. I supposed they

servedtheirpurpose,butdidtheyhavetobesogreasyandugly?Couldn’twehavecutefuzzyrabbitsthatcleaneduproadkillinstead?

“Right,”Isaid.“First,getoutofmyGran.Then,ifyou’reagoodvulture,I’llbuyyousomebreathmints.”

Thismust’vebeenasoresubjectforNekhbet.Shelungedatme.Idovesideways,clamberingoverthecouchandtippingitintheprocess.NekhbetsweptGran’schinacollectionoffthesideboard.

“Youwilldie,SadieKane!”shesaid.“Iwillpickcleanyourbones.Thentheothergodswillseeyouwerenotworthy!”

Iwaitedforanotherattack,butshejustglaredatmefromtheothersideofthesofa.Itoccurredtomethatvulturesdon’tusuallykill.Theywaitfortheirpreytodie.

Nekhbet’swingsfilledtheroom.Hershadowfelloverme,wrappingmeindarkness.Ibegantofeeltrapped,helpless,likeasmallsicklyanimal.

If I hadn’t tested my will against gods before, I might not have recognized this as magic—thisinsistentnagginginthebackofmymind,urgingmetogiveupindespair.ButI’dstoodagainstanynumberofhorridgodsfromtheunderworld.Icouldhandleagreasyoldbird.

“Nicetry,”Isaid.“ButI’mnotgoingtoliedownanddie.”

Nekhbet’seyesglittered.“Perhapsitwilltakesometime,mydear,butasItoldyou,I’mpatient.Ifyouwon’tsuccumb,yourmortalfriendswillbeheresoon.Whataretheirnames—LizandEmma?”

“Leavethemoutofthis!”“Ah,they’llmakelovelyappetizers.Andyouhaven’tevensaidhellotodearoldGrampsyet.”Bloodroaredinmyears.“Whereishe?”Idemanded.Nekhbet glanced at the ceiling. “Oh, he’ll be along shortly.Wevultures like to followanicebig

predatoraround,youknow,andwaitforittodothekilling.”Fromupstairscameamuffledcrash—asifalargepieceoffurniturehadbeenthrownoutawindow.Gramps shouted, “No! No-o-o-o!” Then his voice changed into the roar of a mad animal.

“NOOOOOOAHHH!”Thelastofmycouragemeltedintomycombatboots.“Wh-what—”“Yes,”Nekhbetsaid.“Babiiswaking.”“B-bobby?You’vegotagodnamedBobby?”“B-A-B-I,”thevulturegoddesssnarled.“Youreallyarequitedense,aren’tyou,dear?”Theceilingplastercrackedundertheweightofheavyfootsteps.Somethingwastrompingtowardthe

stairwell.“Babiwilltakegoodcareofyou,”Nehkbetpromised.“Andtherewillbeplentyleftoverforme.”“Good-bye,”Isaid,andIboltedforthedoor.Nekhbetdidn’ttrytostopme.Sheshriekedbehindme,“Ahunt!Excellent!”Imade itacross thestreetwhenour frontdoorexploded.Glancingback, I sawsomethingemerge

fromtheruinsanddust—adarkhairyshapemuchtoobigtobemygrandfather.Ididn’twaitforabetterlook.IracedaroundthecornerofSouthColonnadeandplowedstraightintoLizandEmma.“Sadie!”Lizyelped,droppingabirthdaypresent.“What’swrong?”“Notime!”Isaid.“Comeon!”“Nicetoseeyou,too,”Emmagrumbled.“Whereareyourushingoff—”Thecreaturebehindmebellowed,quiteclosenow.“Explainlater,”Isaid.“Unlessyou’dliketoberippedapartbyagodnamedBobby,followme!”

Lookingback, I canappreciate justwhat amiserable birthday Iwashaving, but at the time Iwas toopanickedtofeelproperlysorryformyself.

We ran down South Colonnade, the roaring behind us almost drowned out by Liz and Emma’scomplaining.

“Sadie!”Emmasaid.“Isthisoneofyourjokes?”She’dgottenabittallerbutstilllookedmuchthesame,withheroversize,glitteryglassesandshort

spikyhair.Sheworeablackleatherminiskirt,afuzzypinkjumper,andridiculousplatformshoesthatshecouldbarelywalkin,muchlessrun.Who’sthatflamboyantrock’n’rollchapfromthe’70s—EltonJohn?IfhehadanIndiandaughter,shemightlooklikeEmma.

“It’snojoke,”Ipromised.“Andforgod’ssake,losethoseshoes!”Emmalookedappalled.“Youknowhowmuchthesecost?”“Honestly,Sadie,”Lizputin.“Whereareyoudraggingusto?”Shewasdressedmoresensiblyinjeansandtrainers,awhitetopanddenimjacket,butshelooked

justaswindedasEmma.Tuckedunderherarm,mybirthdaypresentwasgettingabitsquashed.Lizwasaredheadwithlotsoffreckles,andwhenshegotembarrassedoroverexertedherself,herpalefacebecamesoflushed,herfrecklesdisappeared.UndernormalcircumstancesEmmaandIwould’veteasedheraboutthis,butnottoday.

Behindus,thecreatureroaredagain.Ilookedback,whichwasamistake.Ifalteredtoastop,andmy

matesranintome.Forabriefmoment,Ithought,Mygod,it’sKhufu.ButKhufuwasn’tthesizeofagrizzlybear.Hedidn’thaveglitteringsilverfur,fangslikescimitars,

oralookofbloodlustinhiseyes.ThebaboonravagingCanaryWharflookedlikehewouldeatanything,notjustfoodsendingwithan-o,andwouldhavenodifficultyrippingmelimbfromlimb.

The only good news: the activity on the street hadmomentarily distracted him. Cars swerved toavoid the beast. Pedestrians screamed and ran. The baboon began overturning taxis, smashing shopwindows,andcausingageneralriot.Ashegotclosertous,Isawabitofredclothhangingfromhisleftarm—theremainsofGramps’sfavoritecardigan.StuckonhisforeheadwereGramps’sglasses.

Untilthatmoment,theshockhadn’tfullyhitme.Thatthingwasmygrandfather,whohadneverusedmagic,neverdoneanythingtoannoytheEgyptiangods.

Therewere times Ididn’t likemygrandparents, especiallywhen they’d saidbad thingsaboutmydad,or ignoredCarter,orwhenthey’dletAmostakemeawaylastChristmaswithoutafight.Butstill,they’d raisedme for six years.Gramps had putme on his lap and readme his dusty oldEnidBlytonstorieswhenIwassmall.He’dwatchedaftermeattheparkandtakenmetothezoocountlesstimes.He’dboughtmesweetseven thoughGrandisapproved.Hemayhavehada temper,buthewasa reasonablyharmlessoldpensioner.Hecertainlydidn’tdeservetohavehisbodytakenoverlikethis.

The baboon ripped the door off a pub and sniffed inside. Panicked patrons smashed through awindowandranoffdownthestreet,stillholdingtheirpints.Apolicemanrantowardthecommotion,sawthebaboon,thenturnedandrantheotherway,yellingintohisradioforreinforcements.

Whenfacedwithmagicalevents,mortaleyestendedtoshort-circuit,sendingthebrainonlyimagesitcouldunderstand.Ihadnoideawhatthesepeoplethoughttheywereseeing—possiblyanescapedzooanimal or an enraged gunman—but they knew enough to flee. I wondered what the London securitycameraswouldmakeofthescenelater.

“Sadie,”Lizsaidinaverysmallvoice,“whatisthat?”“Babi,”Isaid.“Thebloodygodofbaboons.He’stakenovermygranddad.Andhewantstokillus.”“Excuseme,”Emmasaid.“Didyoujustsayababoongodwantstokillus?”Thebaboon roared,blinkingand squintingas ifhehad forgottenwhathewasdoing.Maybehe’d

inheritedGramps’sabsentmindednessandbadeyesight.Maybehedidn’trealizehisglasseswereonhishead.Hesniffedtheground,thenbellowedinfrustrationandsmashedthewindowofabakery.

Ialmostbelievedwe’dgottenabitofgoodluck.Perhapswecouldsneakaway.Thenadarkshapeglidedoverhead,spreadingitsblackwingsandcrying,“Here!Here!”

Wonderful.Thebaboonhadairsupport.“Twogods,actually,”Itoldmyfriends.“Now,unlessthereareanymorequestions—run!”ThistimeLizandEmmaneedednoencouragement.Emmakickedoffhershoes,Liztossedasidemy

present—pity,that—andweracedoneanotherdownthestreet.

We zigzagged through alleyways, hugging walls for cover whenever the vulture goddess swoopedoverhead. I heard Babi roaring along behind us, ruining people’s evenings and smashing up theneighborhood;butheseemedtohavelostourscentforthemoment.

WepausedataTintheroadwhileIconsideredwhichwaytorun.Infrontofusstoodalittlechurch,thesortofancientbuildingyouoftenfindinLondon—asomberbitofmedievalstonewedgedbetweenaCaffèNeroandachemist’sshopwithneonsignsofferingselectedhairproducts3for£1.Thechurchhadatinygraveyardenclosedwitharustyfence,butIwouldn’thavepaiditmuchattentionifavoiceinsidetheyardhadn’twhispered,“Sadie.”

It’s amiraclemy heart didn’t jump out ofmy throat. I turned and foundmyself face-to-facewithAnubis.Hewasinhismortalformasateenboywithdark,windblownhairandwarmbrowneyes.He

woreablackDeadWeatherT-shirtandblackjeansthatfithimextremelywell.LizandEmmaarenotknownforbeingsmootharoundgood-lookingboys.Infact,theirbrainsmore

orlessceasetofunction.LizgaspedinsinglesyllablesthatsoundedlikeLamazebreathing,“Oh—ah—hi—who—what—?”Emmalostcontrolofherlegsandstumbledintome.Ishotbothofthemaharshlook,thenturnedtoAnubis.“It’sabouttimesomeonefriendlyshowedup,”Icomplained.“There’sababoonandavulturetrying

tokillus.Wouldyoupleasesortthemout?”Anubispursedhislips,andIgotthefeelingthathewasn’ttheretobringmegoodnews.“Comeinto

myterritory,”hesaid,openingthegraveyardgate.“Weneedtotalk,andthereisn’tmuchtime.”Emmastumbledintomeagain.“Your,um,territory?”Lizgulped.“Who—ah—?”“Shhh,”Itoldthem,tryingtostaycomposed,asifImethotguysingraveyardseveryday.Iglanced

downthestreetandsawnosignofBabiorNekhbet,butIcouldstillhearthem—thebaboongodroaring,the vulture goddess shrieking inmyGran’s voice (ifGran had been eating gravel and taking steroids)“Thisway!Thisway!”

“Waithere,”Itoldmyfriends,andIsteppedinsidethegate.Immediately,theairturnedcolder.Mistrosefromthesoggyground.Thegravestonesshimmered,and

everythingoutsidethefencewentslightlyoutoffocus.Anubismademefeelunbalancedinmanyways,ofcourse,butIrecognizedthiseffect.WewereslippingintotheDuat—experiencingthegraveyardontwolevelsatonce:Anubis’sworldandmine.

Heledmetoacrumblingstonesarcophagusandbowedtoitrespectfully.“Beatrice,doyoumindifwesit?”

Nothinghappened.Theinscriptiononthesarcophagushadwornawaycenturiesago,butIsupposedthiswasBeatrice’sfinalrestingplace.

“Thankyou.”Anubisgesturedformetosit.“Shedoesn’tmind.”“Whathappensifshedoesmind?”Isatdownabitapprehensively.“TheEighteenthNome,”Anubissaid.“Excuseme?”“That’swhereyoumust go.VladMenshikovhas the second sectionof theBookofRa in the top

drawerofhisdesk,inhisheadquartersinSt.Petersburg.It’satrap,ofcourse.He’shopingtobaityou.Butifwantthescroll,you’vegotnochoice.Youshouldgotonight,beforehehastimetostrengthenhisdefenses even further.AndSadie, if theothergods foundout Iwas tellingyou this, Iwouldbe inbigtrouble.”

Istaredathim.Sometimesheactedsomuchlikeateenager,itwashardtobelievehewasthousandsofyearsold.IsupposethatcamefromlivingashelteredlifeintheLandoftheDead,unaffectedbythepassageoftime.Theboyreallyneededtogetoutmore.

“You’reworriedaboutgettingintotrouble?”Iasked.“Anubis,not thatI’mungrateful,butI’vegotbiggerproblemsatthemoment.Twogodshavepossessedmygrandparents.Ifyouwanttolendahand—”

“Sadie,Ican’tintervene.”Heturneduphispalmsinfrustration.“Itoldyouwhenwefirstmet,thisisn’tanactualphysicalbody.”

“Shame,”Imumbled.“What?”“Nothing.Goon.”“Icanmanifestinplacesofdeath,likethischurchyard,butthereisverylittleIcandooutsidemy

territory.Now,ifyouwerealreadydeadandyouwantedanicefuneral,Icouldhelpyou,but—”“Oh,thanks!”

Somewherenearby,thebaboongodroared.Glassshattered,andbrickscrumbled.Myfriendscalledtome,butthesoundsweredistortedandmuffled,asifIwashearingthemfromunderwater.

“IfIgoonwithoutmyfriends,”IaskedAnubis,“willthegodsleavethemalone?”Anubis shook his head. “Nekhbet preys on the weak. She knows that hurting your friends will

weakenyou.That’swhyshetargetedyourgrandparents.Theonlywaytostopherisbyfacingherdown.AsforBabi,herepresentsthedarkestqualitiesofyouprimates:murderousrage,uncontrolledstrength—”

“Weprimates?”Isaid.“Sorry,didyoujustcallmeababoon?”Anubisstudiedmewithakindofconfusedawe.“I’dforgottenhowirritatingyouare.Mypointwas

thathewillkillyoujustforthesakeofkilling.”“Andyoucan’thelpme.”Hegavemeamournfullookwiththosegorgeousbrowneyes.“ItoldyouaboutSt.Petersburg.”Lord,hewasgood-looking,andsoannoying.“Well,then,godofprettymuchnothinguseful,”Isaid,“anythingelsebeforeIgetmyselfkilled?”Hehelduphishand.Astrangesortofknifematerializedinhisgrasp.ItwasshapedlikeaSweeney

Toddrazor:long,curvy,andwickedlysharpalongoneedge,madefromblackmetal.“Takethis,”Anubissaid.“Itwillhelp.”“Haveyouseenthesizeofthebaboon?AmIsupposedtogivehimashave?”“ThisisnottofightBabiorNekhbet,”hesaid,“butyouwillneeditsoonforsomethingevenmore

important.It’sanetjeriblade,madefrommeteoriciron.It’susedforaceremonyIoncetoldyouabout—theopeningofthemouth.”

“Yes,well,ifIsurvivethenight,I’llbesuretotakethisrazorandopensomeone’smouth.Thankseversomuch.”

Lizscreamed,“Sadie!”Throughthemistofthegraveyard,IsawBabiafewblocksaway,lumberingtowardthechurch.He’dspottedus.

“Take theUnderground,”Anubis suggested,pullingme tomy feet. “There’s a stationhalf ablocksouth.Theywon’tbeabletotrackyouverywellbelowtheearth.Runningwaterisalsogood.CreaturesoftheDuatareweakenedbycrossingariver.Ifyoumustbattlethem,findabridgeovertheThames.Oh,andItoldyourdrivertocomegetyou.”

“Mydriver?”“Yes.Hewasn’tplanningtomeetyouuntiltomorrow,but—”AredRoyalMailboxhurtled throughtheairandsmashed into thebuildingnextdoor.Myfriends

screamedatmetohurry.“Go,”Anubissaid.“I’msorryIcan’tdomore.Buthappybirthday,Sadie.”He leaned forward and kissed me on the lips. Then he melted into mist and disappeared. The

graveyardbecamenormalagain—partoftheregular,unshimmeryworld.I should’vebeenvery crosswithAnubis.Kissingmewithoutpermission—thenerve!But I stood

there,paralyzed,staringatBeatrice’scrumblingsarcophagus,untilEmmayelled,“Sadie,comeon!”Myfriendsgrabbedmyarms,andIrememberedhowtorun.WeboltedfortheCanaryWharftubestation.Thebaboonroaredandsmashedthroughtrafficbehind

us.Overhead,Nekhbetshrieked,“Theretheygo!Killthem!”“Whowasthatboy?”Emmademandedasweplungedintothestation.“God,hewashot.”“Agod,”Imuttered.“Yes.”Islippedtheblackrazorintomypocketandclambereddowntheescalator,mylipsstilltinglingfrom

myfirstkiss.AndifIwashumming“HappyBirthday”andsmilingstupidlyasIfledformylife—well,thatwas

nobody’sbusiness,wasit?

SADIE

8.MajorDelaysatWaterlooStation(WeApologizefortheGiantBaboon)

THELONDONUNDERGROUNDhaslovelyacoustics.Soundechoedthroughthetunnels,soaswedescendedIcouldhear therushof the trains, themusiciansplayingforcoins,andofcourse thekillerbaboongodroaringforbloodashepulverizedtheturnstilesbehindus.

Whatwith terrorismthreatsandstepped-upsecurity,onemight’veexpecteda fewpolice tobeonhand; but sadly not this time of evening, not at such a relatively small station. Sirenswailed from thestreetabove,butwe’dbedeadorlonggonebythetimemortalhelparrived.AndifthepolicedidtrytoshootBabiwhilehepossessedGramps’sbody—no.Iforcedmyselfnottothinkaboutthat.

Anubishadsuggested travelingunderground.And if Ihad to fight, Ishouldfindabridge. Ihad tostickwiththatplan.

Therewasn’tmuchchoiceof trainsatCanaryWharf.Thankfully, the JubileeLinewas runningontime. We made it to the platform, jumped aboard the last carriage as the doors were closing, andcollapsedonabench.

Thetrainlurchedawayintothedarktunnel.Behindus,IsawnosignofBabiorNekhbetchasingus.“SadieKane,”Emmagasped.“Willyoupleasetelluswhat’sgoingon?”Mypoorfriends.I’dnevergottenthemintothismuchtrouble,notevenwhenwegotshutintheboys’

changing room at school. (Long story,which involved a five quid bet, DylanQuinn’s knickers, and asquirrel.PerhapsI’lltellyoulater.)

Emma’s feetwere cut and blistered from running barefoot.Her pink jumper looked likemangledpoodlefur,andherglasseshadlostseveralrhinestones.

Liz’sfacewasredasavalentine.She’dtakenoffherdenimjacket,whichsheneverdoes,asshe’salwayscold.Herwhitetopwasblottedwithsweat.Herarmsweresofreckly,theyremindedmeofNuttheskygoddess’sconstellationskin.

Ofthetwo,Emmalookedmoreannoyed,waitingformyexplanation.Lizlookedhorrified,hermouthmovingasifshewantedtospeakbuthadlosthervocalcords.Ithoughtshe’dmakesomecommentaboutthebloodthirstygodschasingus,butwhenshefinallyfoundhervoice,shesaid,“Thatboykissedyou!”

LeaveittoLiztohaveherprioritiesstraight.“Iwill explain,” I promised. “I know I’m a horrible friend for dragging you both into this. But

please,givemeamoment.Ineedtoconcentrate.”“Concentrateonwhat?”Emmademanded.“Emma,hush!”Lizchided.“Shesaid to letherconcentrate.” I closedmyeyes, trying tocalmmy

nerves.Itwasn’teasy,especiallywithanaudience.Withoutmysupplies,however,Iwasdefenseless,andI

wasn’tlikelytogetanotherchancetoretrievethem.Ithought:Youcandothis,Sadie.It’sonlyreachingintoanotherdimension.Onlyrippingatearinthefabricofreality.

Ireachedout.Nothinghappened.Itriedagain,andmyhanddisappearedintotheDuat.Lizshrieked.Fortunately,Ididn’tlosemyconcentration(ormyhand).Myfingersclosedaroundthestrapofmymagicbag,andIpulleditfree.

Emma’seyeswidened.“That’sbrilliant.Howdidyoudothat?”

Iwaswonderingthesamething,actually.Giventhecircumstances,Icouldn’tbelieveI’dmanageditonjustmysecondtry.

“It’s,um…magic,”Isaid.My mates stared at me, mystified and scared, and the enormity of my problems suddenly came

crashingdownonme.Ayearago,Liz,Emma,andIwould’vebeenridingthistraintoFunlandorthecinema.Wewould’ve

beenlaughingattheridiculousringtonesonLiz’sphoneorEmma’sPhoto-shoppedpicturesofthegirlswehatedatschool.ThemostdangerousthingsinmylifehadbeenGran’scookingandGramps’stemperwhenhesawmymarksfortheterm.

NowGrampswasagiantbaboon.Granwasanevilvulture.MyfriendswereregardingmeasifI’ddroppedfromanotherplanet,whichwasn’tfarfromthetruth.

Evenwithmymagicsuppliesinhand,IhadnoideawhatIwasgoingtodo.Ididn’thavethefullpower of Isis at my command anymore. If I tried to fight Babi and Nekhbet, I might injure my owngrandparentsandwouldlikelygetmyselfkilled.ButifIdidn’tstopthem,whowould?Godlypossessionwould eventually burn out a human host. That had almost happened to Uncle Amos, whowas a full-fledgedmagicianandknewhowtodefendhimself.GranandGrampswereold,frail,andquiteunmagical.Theydidn’thavemuchtime.

Despair—muchworsethanthevulturegoddess’swings—overwhelmedme.Ididn’trealizeIwascryinguntilLizputherhandonmyshoulder.“Sadie,dear,we’resorry.It’sjust

abit…strange,youknow?Telluswhat’sthematter.Letushelp.”Itookashakybreath.I’dmissedmymatessomuch.I’dalwaysthoughtthemabitodd,butnowthey

seemedblissfullynormal—partofaworldthatwasn’tmineanymore.Theywerebothtryingtoactbrave,butIcouldtelltheywereterrifiedinside.IwishedIcouldleavethembehind,hidethem,keepthemoutofharm’s way, but I remembered what Nekhbet had said: They’ll make lovely appetizers. Anubis hadwarnedthatthevulturegoddesswouldhuntdownmyfriendsandhurtthemjusttohurtme.Atleastiftheywerewithme,Icouldtrytoprotectthem.Ididn’twanttoupendtheirlivesthewayminehadbeen,butIowedthemthetruth.

“Thiswillsoundabsolutelymad,”Iwarned.Igavethemtheshortestversionpossible—whyI’dleftLondon,howtheEgyptiangodshadescaped

intotheworld,howI’ddiscoveredmyancestryasamagician.I toldthemaboutourfightwithSet, theriseofApophis,andourinsaneideatoawakenthegodRa.

Twostationspassed,butitfeltsogoodtotellmyfriendsthestorythatIratherlosttrackoftime.WhenIwasdone,LizandEmmalookedatoneanother,nodoubtwonderinghowtogentlytellmeI

wasbonkers.“Iknowitseemsimpossible,”Isaid,“but—”“Sadie,webelieveyou,”Emmasaid.Iblinked.“Youdo?”“’Coursewedo.”Liz’s facewasflushed, thewayshegotafterseveral rollercoaster rides.“I’ve

neverheardyoutalksoseriouslyaboutanything.You—you’vechanged.”“It’sjustI’mamagiciannow,and…andIcan’tbelievehowstupidthatsounds.”“It’smorethanthat.”EmmastudiedmyfaceasifIwasturningintosomethingquitefrightening.“You

seemolder.Moremature.”Hervoicewastingedwithsadness,andIrealizedmymatesandIweregrowingapart.Itwasasif

we stood on opposite sides of a widening chasm.And I knewwith gloomy certainty the breachwasalreadytoowideformetojumpbackacross.

“Yourboyfriendisamazing,”Lizadded,probablytocheermeup.“He’snotmy…”Istopped.TherewasnowinningthatargumentwithLiz.Besides,Iwassomixed

upaboutthatbloodyjackalAnubis,Ididn’tknowwheretobegin.Thetrainslowed.IsawthesignsforWaterlooStation.“Oh,god,”Isaid.“ImeanttogetoffatLondonBridge.Ineedabridge.”“Can’twebacktrack?”Lizasked.A roar from the tunnelbehindus answered thatquestion.Lookingback, I sawa large shapewith

glitteringsilverfurlopingalongthetracks.Itsfoottouchedthethirdrail,andsparksflew;butthebaboongodlumberedon,unfazed.Asthetrainbraked,Babistartedtogainonus.

“Nogoingback,”Isaid.“We’llhavetomakeittoWaterlooBridge.”“That’shalfamilefromthestation!”Lizprotested.“Whatifitcatchesus?”Irummagedthroughmybagandpulledoutmynewstaff.Instantlyitexpandedtofulllength,thelion-

carvedtipblazingwithgoldenlight.“ThenIsupposewe’llhavetofight.”

ShouldIdescribeWaterlooStationasitwasbeforeorafterwedestroyedit?Themainconcoursewasmassive. Ithadapolishedmarble floor, loadsofshopsandkiosks,andaglass-and-girderceilinghighenoughsothatahelicoptercouldflyaboutinsidecomfortably.

Riversofpeopleflowedinandout,mixing,separating,andoccasionallycollidingastheymadetheirwaytovariousescalatorsandplatforms.

WhenIwassmall, thestationbuildinghadrather frightenedme. Iworried that thegiantVictorianclockhangingfromtheceilingmightfallandcrushme.Theannouncers’voicesweremuchtooloud.(Iprefer to be the noisiest thing in my environment, thank you very much.) The masses of commutersstandingmesmerizedunder thedepartureboards,watching for their trains, remindedmeof amob inazombie movie—which, granted, I shouldn’t have watched as a young child, but I was always ratherprecocious.

Atanyrate,mymatesandIwereracingthroughthemainstation,pushingourwaytowardthenearestexit,whenastairwellbehindusexploded.

Crowds scattered as Babi climbed from the rubble. Businessmen screamed, dropping theirbriefcasesandsprintingfortheirlives.Liz,Emma,andIpressedagainstthesideofthePaperchasekiosktoavoidgettingtrampledbyagroupoftouristsyellinginItalian.

Babihowled.Hisfurwascoveredwithgrimeandsootfromhisrunthroughthetunnels.Gramps’scardiganwasrippedtoshredsonhisarm,but,miraculously,hisglasseswerestillonhishead.

Hesniffedtheair,probablytryingtocatchmyscent.Thenadarkshadowpassedoverhead.“Whereareyougoing,SadieKane?”Nekhbetshrieked.Shesoaredthroughtheterminal,swooping

downonthealreadypanickedcrowds.“Wouldyoufightbyrunningaway?Youarenotworthy!”Anannouncer’scalmvoiceechoedthroughtheterminal:“The8:02trainforBasingstokewillarrive

onplatformthree.”“ROOOAR!”Babiswattedabronzestatueofsomepoorfamousblokeandknockedhisheadclean

off.Apolicemanranforward,armedwithapistol.BeforeIcouldyellathimtostop,hefiredashotatBabi.LizandEmmabothscreamed.ThebulletdeflectedoffBabi’sfurasifitweremadeoftitanium,andshatteredanearbyMcDonald’ssign.Theofficerfainteddeadaway.

I’dneverseensomanypeopleclearoutofaterminalsoquickly.Iconsideredfollowingthem,butdecideditwouldbetoodangerous.Icouldn’thavetheseinsanegodskillingloadsofinnocentpeoplejustbecause Iwas in theirmidst; and ifwe tried to join the exodus,we’d only get stuck or crushed in astampede.

“Sadie,look!”Lizpointedup,andEmmayelped.Nekhbetsailed into theceilinggirdersandperched therewith thepigeons.Sheglareddownatus

andcriedtoBabi,“Heresheis,mydear!Here!”“Iwishshe’dshutup,”Imuttered.

“Isiswasfoolishtochooseyou!”Nekhbetyelled.“Iwillfeedonyourentrails!”“ROOOOAR!”saidBabi,inheartyagreement.“The8:14trainforBrightonisdelayed,”saidtheannouncer.“Weapologizefortheinconvenience.”Babihadseenusnow.Hiseyessmolderedwithprimalrage,butIalsosawsomethingofGrampsin

hisexpression.Thewayhefurrowedhisbrowandjuttedouthischin—justasGrampsdidwhenhegotangryatthetellyandyelledattherugbyplayers.Seeingthatexpressiononthebaboongodalmostmademelosemynerve.

Iwasn’tgoingtodiehere.Iwasn’tgoingtoletthesetworepulsivegodshurtmyfriendsorburnupmygrandparents.

Babilumberedtowardus.Nowthathe’dfoundus,hedidn’tseeminanyhurrytokillus.Heliftedhis head andmade a deepbarking sound to the left and right, as if callingout, summoning friends fordinner.Emma’sfingersdugintomyarm.Lizwhimpered,“Sadie…?”

The crowds hadmostly cleared out now.No other policewere in sight. Perhaps they’d fled, orperhapstheywereallontheirwaytoCanaryWharf,notrealizingtheproblemwasnowhere.

“We’renotgoingtodie,”Ipromisedmymates.“Emma,holdmystaff.”“Your—Oh,right.”ShetookthestaffgingerlyasifI’dhandedherarocketlauncher,whichIsuppose

itcould’vebeenwiththeproperspell.“Liz,”Iordered,“watchthebaboon.”“Watchingthebaboon,”shesaid.“Ratherhardtomissthebaboon.”I rummaged through my magic bag, desperately taking inventory. Wand…good for defense, but

against twogodsatonce,Ineededmore.SonsofHorus,magicchalk—thiswasn’t theplacetodrawaprotectivecircle.Ihadtogettothebridge.Ineededtobuytimetogetoutofthisterminal.

“Sadie…”Lizwarned.BabihadjumpedontotheroofoftheBodyShop.Heroared,andsmallerbaboonsbegantoappear

fromeverydirection—climbingover theheadsof fleeingcommuters, swingingdown from thegirders,popping out of the stairwells and shops. There were dozens of them, all wearing black-and-silverbasketballjerseys.Wasbasketballsomesortofinternationalbaboonsport?

Until today,I’dbeenratherfondofbaboons.TheonesI’dmetbefore,likeKhufuandhissociablefriends,were thesacredanimalsofThoth,godofknowledge.Theyweregenerallywiseandhelpful. Isuspected,however,thatBabi’stroopofbaboonswasadifferentsortaltogether.Theyhadbloodredfur,wildeyes,andfangsthatwould’vemadeasaber-toothedtigerfeelinadequate.

Theybegantoclosein,snarlingastheypreparedtopounce.Ipulledablockofwaxfrommybag—notimetofashionashabti.Twotyetamulets,thesacredmark

ofIsis—ah,thosemightbehelpful.ThenIfoundacorkedglassvialI’dquiteforgottenabout.Insidewassomemurky sludge:my first attempt at a potion. It had been sitting at the bottom ofmy bag for agesbecauseI’dneverbeendesperateenoughtotestit.

I shook the potion. The liquid glowed with a sickly green light. Bits of gunk swirled inside. Iuncorkedit.ThestuffsmelledworsethanNekhbet.

“Whatisthat?”Lizasked.“Disgusting,”Isaid.“Animationscrollblendedwithoil,water,andafewsecretingredients.Came

outabitchunky,I’mafraid.”“Animation?”Emmaasked.“You’regoingtosummoncartoons?”“Thatwouldbebrilliant,”Iadmitted.“Butthisismoredangerous.IfIdoitright,Icaningestagreat

dealofmagicwithoutburningmyselfup.”“Andifyoudoitwrong?”Lizasked.IhandedthemeachanamuletofIsis.“Holdontothese.WhenIsayGo,runforthetaxistands.Don’t

stop.”

“Sadie,”Emmaprotested,“whatonearth—”BeforeIcouldlosemynerve,Igaggeddownthepotion.Aboveus,Nekhbetcackled.“Giveup!Youcannotopposeus!”Theshadowofherwingsseemedto

spreadovertheentireconcourse,makingthelastofthecommutersfleeinpanicandweighingmedownwith fear. I knew it was only a spell, but still, the temptation to accept a quick death was almostoverwhelming.

AfewofthebaboonsgotdistractedbythesmelloffoodandraidedtheMcDonald’s.Severalotherswerechasingatrainconductor,beatinghimwithrolled-upfashionmagazines.

Sadly,mostofthebaboonswerestillfocusedonus.TheymadealooseringaroundthePaperchasekiosk.FromhiscommandstationatoptheBodyShop,Babihowled—aclearcommandtoattack.

Thenthepotionhitmygut.Magiccoursedthroughmybody.MymouthtastedlikeI’dswallowedadeadtoad,butnowIunderstoodwhypotionsweresopopularwithancientmagicians.

Theanimationspell,whichhadtakenmedaystowriteandwouldnormallytakeatleastanhourtocast, was now tingling in my bloodstream. Power surged into my fingertips. My only problem waschannelingthemagic,makingsureitdidn’tburnmetoacrisp.

IcalledonIsisasbestIcould, tappingherpowertohelpmeshapetheenchantment.IenvisionedwhatIwanted,andtherightwordofpowerpoppedintomyhead:Protect.N’dah.Ireleasedthemagic.Agoldhieroglyphburnedinfrontofme:

A wave of golden light rippled through the concourse. The troop of baboons hesitated. BabistumbledontheBodyShoproof.EvenNekhbetsquawkedandfalteredontheceilinggirders.

Allaroundthestation,inanimateobjectsbegantomove.Backpacksandbriefcasessuddenlylearnedtofly.Magazineracks,gum,sweets,andassortedcolddrinksexplodedoutoftheshopsandattackedthebaboontroop.ThedecapitatedbronzeheadfromthestatueshotoutofnowhereandslammedintoBabi’schest, knocking him backward through the roof of theBody Shop.A tornado of pinkFinancial Timesnewspapersswirledtowardtheceiling.TheyengulfedNekhbet,whostumbledblindlyandfellshriekingfromherperchinaflurryofpinkandblack.

“Go!”Itoldmyfriends.Weranfortheexit,weavingaroundbaboonswhoweremuchtoobusytostopus.Onewasbeingpummeledbyahalf-dozenbottlesofsparklingwater.AnotherwasfendingoffabriefcaseandseveralkamikazeBlackBerrys.

Babi tried to rise, but a maelstrom of Body Shop products surged around him—lotions, loofasponges, and shampoos all battering him, squirting in his eyes, and trying to give him an extrememakeover.Hebellowedinirritation,slipped,andfellbackintotheruinedshop.Idoubtedmyspellwoulddothegodsanypermanentdamage,butwithluckitwouldkeepthemoccupiedforafewminutes.

Liz,Emma,andImadeitoutoftheterminal.Withtheentirestationevacuated,Ididn’treallyexpectanycabstobeinthetaxiqueue,andindeedthecurbwasempty.IresignedmyselftorunningallthewaytoWaterlooBridge,thoughEmmahadnoshoes,andthepotionhadmademequeasy.

“Look!”Lizsaid.“Oh,welldone,Sadie,”Emmasaid.“What?”Iasked.“WhatdidIdo?”ThenInoticedthechauffeur—anextremelyshort,scruffymanstandingat theendof thedrive ina

blacksuit,holdingaplacardthatreadKANE.IsupposemyfriendsthoughtI’dsummonedhimbymagic.BeforeIcouldtellthemdifferently,Emma

said,“Comeon!”and theysprinted toward the littleman. Ihadnochoicebut to follow. I remembered

whatAnubishadsaidaboutsendingmy“driver”tomeetme.Isupposedthismustbehim,butthecloserwegot,thelesseagerIwastomeethim.

Hewas shorter thanmeby half, stouter thanmyUncleAmos, and uglier than anyone else on theplanet.His facial featureswerepositivelyNeanderthal.Underhis thickfurrymono-brow,oneeyewasbiggerthantheother.Hisbeardlookedasifithadbeenusedtoscrapegreasypots.Hisskinwaspoxywithredwelts,andhishairlookedlikeabird’snestthathadbeensetonfirethenstompedout.

Whenhesawme,hescowled,whichdidnothingtohelphisappearance.“About time!”His accent wasAmerican. He belched into his fist, and the smell of curry nearly

knockedmeover.“Bast’sfriend?SadieKane?”“Um…possibly.”IdecidedtohaveaserioustalkwithBastaboutherchoiceoffriends.“Justbythe

way,wehavetwogodstryingtokillus.”Thewartylittlemansmackedhislips,clearlyunimpressed.“Guessyou’llwantabridge,then.”Heturnedtowardthecurbandyelled,“BOO!”AblackMercedeslimousineappearedoutofnowhere,asifithadbeenscaredintoexistence.Thechauffeurglancedbackatmeandarchedhisbrow.“Well?Getin!”

I’d never been in a limousine before. I hopemost are nicer than the onewe took. The backseatwaslitteredwith takeaway curry containers, old fish-and-chip paper, crisps bags, and various dirty socks.Despitethis,Emma,Liz,andIcrammedtogetherintheback,becausenoneofusdaredrideupfront.

YoumaythinkIwasmadtoget inacarwithastrangeman.You’reright,ofcourse.ButBasthadpromisedushelp,andAnubishadtoldmetoexpectadriver.Thefactthatourpromisedhelpwasalittlemanwithbadhygieneandamagicallimousinedidnotparticularlysurpriseme.I’dseenstrangerthings.

Also,Ididn’thavemuchchoice.Thepotionhadwornoff,andthestrainofreleasingsomuchmagichad made me lightheaded and wobbly-legged. I wasn’t sure I could’ve walked to Waterloo Bridgewithoutpassingout.

Thechauffeurflooredthegasandbarreledoutofthestation.Thepolicehadcordoneditoff,butourlimoswervedaroundthebarricades,pastaclusterofBBCnewsvansandamobofspectators,andnoonepaidusanyattention.

Thechauffeurstartedwhistlingatunethatsoundedlike“ShortPeople.”Hisheadbarelyreachedtheheadrest.AllIcouldseeofhimwasagrubbynestofhairandasetoffurryhandsonthewheel.

Stuckinthesunvisorwasanidentificationcardwithhispicture—sortof.Ithadbeentakenatpoint-blank range, showing only an out-of-focus nose and a hideousmouth, as if he’d been trying to eat thecamera.Thecardread:YourDriverisBES.

“You’reBes,Iguess?”Isaid.“Yes,”hesaid.“Yourcar’samess,”Lizmuttered.“Ifonemorepersonrhymes,”Emmagrumbled,“I’llthrowup.”“Is itMr.Bes?”Iasked, trying toplacehisnamefromEgyptianmythology. Iwasfairlysure they

hadn’thadagodofchauffeurs.“LordBes?BestheExtremelyShort?”“JustBes,”hegrunted.“Ones.Andno,it’sNOTagirl’sname.CallmeBessie,andI’llhavetokill

you.Asforbeingshort,I’mthedwarfgod,sowhatdoyouexpect?Oh,there’sbottledwaterforyoubackthereifyou’rethirsty.”

Ilookeddown.Rollingaboutatmyfeetweretwopartiallyemptybottlesofwater.Onehadlipstickonthecap.Theotherlookedasifithadbeenchewedon.

“Notthirsty,”Idecided.Liz and Emma murmured agreement. I was surprised they weren’t absolutely catatonic after the

evening’s events, but then again, theyweremymates. I didn’t hangoutwithweak-willedgirls, did I?

EvenbeforeIdiscoveredmagic,ittookastrongconstitutionandafairamountofadaptabilitytobemyfriend.[Andnocommentfromyou,Carter.]

Police vehicles were blocking Waterloo Bridge, but Bes swerved around them, jumped thepavement,andkeptdriving.Thepolicedidn’tevenblink.

“Areweinvisible?”Iasked.“Tomostmortals.”Besbelched.“They’reprettydense,aren’t they?Presentcompanyexcepted,et

cetera.”“You’rereallyagod?”Lizasked.“Huge,”Bessaid.“I’mhugeintheworldofgods.”“Ahugegodofdwarves,”Emmamarveled.“YoumeanasinSnowWhite,or—”“Alldwarves.”Beswavedhishandsexpansively,whichmademeabitnervousashetookbothof

themoffthewheel.“Egyptiansweresmart.Theyhonoredpeoplewhowerebornunusual.Dwarveswereconsideredextremelymagical.Soyeah,I’mthegodofdwarves.”

Lizclearedherthroat.“Isn’tthereamorepolitetermwe’resupposedtousenowadays?Like…littleperson,orverticallychallenged,or—”

“I’mnotgoingtocallmyselfthegodofverticallychallengedpeople,”Besgrumbled.“I’madwarf!Now,hereweare,justintime.”

Hespunthecartoastopinthemiddleofthebridge.Lookingbehindus,Ialmostlostthecontentsofmystomach.Awingedblackshapewascirclingovertheriverbank.Attheendofthebridge,Babiwastakingcareofthebarricadeinhisownfashion.HewasthrowingpolicecarsintotheRiverThameswhiletheofficersscatteredandfiredtheirweapons,thoughthebulletsseemedtohavenoeffectonthebaboongod’ssteelyfur.

“Whyarewestopping?”Emmaasked.Besstoodonhisseatandstretched,whichhecoulddoquiteeasily.“It’sariver,”hesaid.“Good

placetofightgods,ifIdosaysomyself.Allthatforceofnatureflowingunderneathourfeetmakesithardtostayanchoredinthemortalworld.”

Lookingathimmoreclosely,Icouldseewhathemeant.Hisfacewasshimmeringlikeamirage.Alumpformedinmythroat.Thiswasthemomentoftruth.Ifeltsickfromthepotionandfromfear.I

wasn’tatallsureIhadenoughmagictocombatthosetwogods.ButIhadnochoice.“Liz,Emma,”Isaid.“We’regettingout.”“Getting…out?”Lizwhimpered.Emmaswallowed.“Areyousure—”“Iknowyou’rescared,”Isaid,“butyou’llneedtodoexactlyasIsay.”They nodded hesitantly and opened the car doors. The poor things.Again Iwished I’d left them

behind; but honestly, after seeing my grandparents possessed, I couldn’t stand the idea of letting myfriendsoutofmysight.

Besstifledayawn.“Needmyhelp?”“Um…”Babiwaslumberingtowardus.Nekhbetcircledoverhim,shriekingorders.Iftheriverwasaffecting

thematall,theydidn’tshowit.Ididn’tseehowadwarfgodcouldstandagainstthosetwo,butIsaid,“Yes.Ineedhelp.”“Right.”Bescrackedhisknuckles.“Sogetout.”“What?”“Ican’tchangeclotheswithyouinthecar,canI?Ihavetoputonmyuglyoutfit.”“Uglyoutfit?”“Go!”thedwarfcommanded.“I’llbeoutinaminute.”Itdidn’ttakemuchencouragement.NoneofuswantedtoseeanymoreofBesthanwehadto.Wegot

out,andBeslockedthedoorsbehindus.Thewindowswereheavilytinted,soIcouldn’tseein.ForallIknewBeswouldberelaxing, listeningtomusicwhilewegotslaughtered.Icertainlydidn’thavemuchhopethatawardrobechangewasgoingtodefeatNekhbetandBabi.

Ilookedatmyfrightenedmates,thenatthetwogodschargingtowardus.“We’llmakeourlaststandhere.”“Oh,no,no,”Lizsaid.“Ireallydon’tliketheterm‘laststand.’”IrummagedthroughmybagandtookoutapieceofchalkandthefoursonsofHorus.“Liz,putthese

statuesatthecardinalpoints—North,South,andsoon.Emma,takethechalk.Drawacircleconnectingthestatues.Weonlyhaveafewseconds.”

Itradedherthechalkformystaff,thenhadahorribleflashofdéjàvu.I’djustorderedmyfriendsintoactionexactlyasZiaRashidhadbossedmethefirsttimewe’dfacedanenemygodtogether.

Ididn’twanttobelikeZia.Ontheotherhand,Irealizedforthefirsttimejusthowmuchcourageshemust’vehadtostanduptoagoddesswhileprotectingtwocompletenovices.Ihatetosayit,butitgavemeanewfoundrespectforher.IwishedIhadherbravery.

I raisedmystaffandwandand tried to focus.Timeseemed toslowdown. I reachedoutwithmysensesuntilIwasawareofeverythingaroundme—Emmascrawlingwithchalktofinishthecircle,Liz’sheart beating too fast, Babi’s massive feet pounding on the bridge as he ran toward us, the Thamesflowingunderthebridge,andthecurrentsoftheDuatflowingaroundmejustaspowerfully.

BastoncetoldmetheDuatwaslikeanoceanofmagicunderthesurfaceofthemortalworld.Ifthatwas true, then this place—a bridge over moving water—was like a jet stream. Magic flowed morestronglyhere.Itcoulddrowntheunwary.Evengodsmightbesweptaway.

I tried toanchormyselfbyconcentratingon the landscapearoundme.Londonwasmy city.FromhereIcouldseeeverything—theHousesofParliament,theLondonEye,evenCleopatra’sNeedleontheVictoria Embankment, where mymother had died. If I failed now, so close to wheremymother hadworkedherlastmagic—No.Icouldn’tletitcometothat.

Babiwasonlyameter awaywhenEmma finished thecircle. I touchedmystaff to thechalk, andgoldenlightflaredup.

The baboon god slammed into my protective force field like it was a metal wall. He staggeredbackward.Nekhbetswervedawayatthelastsecondandflewaroundus,cawinginfrustration.

Unfortunately, the circle’s light began to flicker.Mymumhad taughtme at a very young age: foreveryactionthereisanequalandoppositereaction.Thatappliedtomagicaswellasscience.TheforceofBabi’sassaultleftmeseeingblackspots.Ifheattackedagain,Iwasn’tsureIcouldholdthecircle.

IwonderedifIshouldstepoutsideit,makemyself thetarget. IfIchanneledenergyintothecirclefirst,itmightmaintainitselfforawhile,evenifIdied.Atleast,myfriendswouldlive.

ZiaRashidhadprobablybeenthinkingthesamethinglastChristmaswhenshesteppedoutsidehercircletoprotectCarterandme.Shereallyhadbeenannoyinglybrave.

“Whateverhappenstome,”Itoldmyfriends,“stayinsidethecircle.”“Sadie,”Emmasaid,“Iknowthattoneofvoice.Whateveryou’replanning,don’t.”“Youcan’tleaveus,”Lizpleaded.ThensheshoutedatBabiinasqueakyvoice:“G-goaway,you

horriblefoamyape!Myfriendheredoesn’twanttodestroyyou,but—butshewill!”Babi snarled. Hewas rather foamy, thanks to the Body Shop attack, and he smelled wonderful.

Severaldifferentcolorsofshampoofoamandbathbeadsweremattedinhissilverfur.Nekhbet hadn’t fared so well. She perched atop a nearby lamppost, looking as if she’d been

assaultedby the entire contents of theWestCornwallPastyCompany.Bits of ham, cheese, andpotatosplatteredherfeatherycloak,givingtestamenttothebraveenchantedmeatpiesthathadgiventheirbrieflives todelayher.Herhairwasdecoratedwithplastic forks,napkins,andbitsofpinknewsprint.Shelookedquitekeentotearmetoshreds.

Theonlygoodnews:Babi’sminionsevidentlyhadn’tmadeitoutofthetrainstation.I imaginedatroop of pasty-splattered baboons shoved against police cars and handcuffed. It lifted my spiritssomewhat.

Nekhbetsnarled.“Yousurprisedusat thestation,SadieKane. I’lladmit thatwaswelldone.Andbringingustothisbridge—agoodtry.Butwearenotsoweak.Youdon’thavethestrengthtofightusanylonger.Ifyoucannotdefeatus,youhavenobusinessraisingRa.”

“Youlotshouldbehelpingme,”Isaid.“Nottryingtostopme.”“Uhh!”Babibarked.“Indeed,”agreedthevulturegoddess.“Thestrongsurvivewithouthelp.Theweakmustbekilledand

eaten.Whichareyou,child?Behonest.”Thetruth?Iwasabouttodrop.Thebridgeseemedtobespinningbeneathme.Sirenswailedonboth

banksoftheriver.Morepolicehadarrivedatthebarricades,butfornowtheymadenoefforttoadvance.Babibaredhisfangs.Hewassoclose,Icouldsmellhisshampooedfurandhishorridbreath.ThenI

lookedatGramps’sglassesstillstuckonhishead,andallmyangercameback.“Tryme,”Isaid.“IfollowthepathofIsis.Crossme,andI’lldestroyyou.”I managed to light my staff. Babi stepped back. Nekhbet fluttered on her lamppost. Their forms

shimmeredbriefly.The riverwasweakening them, loosening their connection to themortalworld likeinterferenceonamobilephoneline.Butitwasn’tenough.

Nekhbetmust’ve seen thedesperation inmy face.Shewas a vulture.She specialized inknowingwhenherpreywasfinished.

“A good last effort, child,” she said, almostwith appreciation, “but you have nothing left. Babi,attack!”

The baboon god reared up on his back legs. I got ready to charge and deliver one final burst ofenergy—totapintomyownlifesourceandhopefullyvaporizethegods.IhadtomakesureLizandEmmasurvived.

Thenthelimo’sdooropenedbehindme.Besannounced:“Nooneisattackinganyone!Exceptme,ofcourse.”

Nekhbetshriekedinalarm.Iturnedtoseewhatwasgoingon.Immediately,IwishedIcouldburnmyeyesoutofmyhead.

Lizmadeagaggingsound.“Lord,no!That’swrong!”“Agh!”Emmashouted,inperfectbaboon-speak.“Makehimstop!”Beshad indeedputonhisuglyoutfit.He climbedonto the roofof the limoand stood there, legs

planted,armsakimbo,likeSuperman—exceptwithonlytheunderwear.Forthosefaintofheart,Iwon’tgointogreatdetail,butBes,allofametertall,wasshowingoffhis

disgustingphysique—hispotbelly,hairy limbs,awfulfeet,grossflabbybits—andwearingonlyablueSpeedo. Imagine theworst looking person you’ve ever seen on a public beach—the person forwhomswimwearshouldbeillegal.Beslookedworsethanthat.

Iwasn’tsurewhattosayexcept:“Putonsomeclothes!”Beslaughed—thesortofguffawthatsaysHa-ha!I’mamazing!“Notuntiltheyleave,”hesaid.“OrI’llbeforcedtoscarethembacktotheDuat.”“Thisisnotyouraffair,dwarfgod!”Nekhbetsnarled,avertinghereyesfromhishorribleness.“Go

away!”“Thesechildrenareundermyprotection,”Besinsisted.“Idon’tknowyou,”Isaid.“Inevermetyoubeforetoday.”“Nonsense.Youexpresslyaskedformyprotection.”“Ididn’taskfortheSpeedoPatrol!”Besleapedoffthelimoandlandedinfrontofmycircle,placinghimselfbetweenBabiandme.The

dwarfwasevenmorehorriblefrombehind.Hisbackwassohairyitlookedlikeaminkcoat.AndonthebackofhisSpeedowasprinteddwarfpride.

BesandBabicircledeachotherlikewrestlers.ThebaboongodswipedatBes,butthedwarfwasagile.He scrambledupBabi’s chest andhead-buttedhim in thenose.Babi staggeredbackwardas thedwarfcontinuedpoundingaway,usinghisfaceasadeadlyweapon.

“Don’thurthim!”Iyelled.“It’smyGrampsinthere!”Babislumpedagainsttherailing.Heblinked,tryingtoregainhisbearings,butBesbreathedonhim,

and the smell of currymust’ve been toomuch.Thebaboon’s knees buckled.His body shimmered andbegantoshrink.Hecrumpledonthepavementandmeltedintoastockygray-hairedpensionerinatatteredcardigan.

“Gramps!”Icouldn’tstandit.Ilefttheprotectivecircleandrantohisside.“He’ll be fine,” Bes promised. Then he turned toward the vulture goddess. “Now it’s your turn,

Nekhbet.Leave.”“Istolethisbodyfairandsquare!”shewailed.“Ilikeitinhere!”“Youaskedforit.”Besrubbedhishands,tookadeepbreath,anddidsomethingIwillneverbeable

toerasefrommymemory.IfIsimplysaidhemadeafaceandyelledBOO,thatwouldbetechnicallycorrect,butitwouldn’t

begintoconveythehorror.Hisheadswelled.His jawunhingeduntilhismouthwas four times toobig.Hiseyesbulged like

grapefruits.HishairstuckstraightuplikeBast’s.HeshookhisfaceandwaggledhisslimygreentongueandroaredBOOOO!soloudly,thesoundrolledacrosstheThameslikeacannonshot.Thisblastofpureuglyblew the feathersoffNekhbet’s cloakanddrainedall thecolor fromher face. It rippedaway theessence of the goddess like tissue paper in a storm. The only thing leftwas a dazed oldwoman in aflower-printdress,squattingonthelamppost.

“Oh,dear…”Granfainted.Besjumpedupandcaughtherbeforeshecouldtoppleintotheriver.Thedwarf’sfacewentbackto

normal—well,normallyugly,atleast—asheeasedGranontothepavementnexttoGramps.“Thankyou,”ItoldBes.“Now,willyoupleaseputonsomeclothes?”Hegavemeatoothygrin,whichIcouldhavelivedwithout.“You’reallright,SadieKane.Iseewhy

Bastlikesyou.”“Sadie?”mygrandfathergroaned,hiseyelidsflutteringopen.“I’mhere,Gramps.”Istrokedhisforehead.“Howdoyoufeel?”“Strangecravingformangoes.”Hewentcross-eyed.“Andpossiblyinsects.You…yousavedus?”“Notreally,”Iadmitted.“Myfriendhere—”“Certainlyshesavedyou,”Bessaid.“Bravegirlyouhavehere.Quiteamagician.”GrampsfocusedonBesandscowled.“BloodyEgyptiangodsintheirbloodyrevealingswimwear.

Thisiswhywedon’tdomagic.”Isighedwithrelief.OnceGrampsstartedcomplaining,Iknewhewasgoingtobeallright.Granwas

stillpassedout,butherbreathingseemedsteady.Thecolorwascomingbackintohercheeks.“Weshouldgo,”Bessaid.“Themortalsarereadytostormthebridge.”Iglanced toward thebarricades and sawwhathemeant.Anassault teamwasgathering—heavily

armoredmenwithrifles,grenadelaunchers,andprobablymanyotherfuntoysthatcouldkillus.“Liz,Emma!”Icalled.“Helpmewithmygrandparents.”MyfriendsranoverandstartedtohelpGrampssitup,butBessaid,“Theycan’tcome.”“What?”Idemanded.“Butyoujustsaid—”“They’remortals,”Bes said. “They don’t belong on your quest. Ifwe’re going to get the second

scrollfromVladMenshikov,weneedtoleavenow.”

“Youknowaboutthat?”ThenIrememberedthathe’dspokenwithAnubis.“Yourgrandparentsandfriendsareinlessdangerhere,”Bessaid.“Thepolicewillquestionthem,

buttheywon’tseeoldpeopleandchildrenasathreat.”“We’renotchildren,”Emmagrumbled.“Vultures…”Granwhisperedinhersleep.“Meatpies…”Grampscoughed.“Thedwarfisright,Sadie.Go.I’llbetiptopinamoment, thoughit’sapitythat

baboonchapcouldn’tleavemesomeofhispower.Haven’tfeltthatstronginages.”I looked atmybedraggledgrandparents and friends.Myheart felt itwasbeing stretched inmore

directionsthanBes’sface.Irealizedthedwarfwasright:they’dbesaferherefacinganassaultteamthangoingwithus.AndIrealized,too,thattheydidn’tbelongonamagicquest.Mygrandparentshadchosenlongagonottousetheirancestralabilities.Andmyfriendswerejustmortals—brave,mad,ridiculous,wonderfulmortals.Buttheycouldn’tgowhereIhadtogo.

“Sadie, it’s fine.” Emma adjusted her broken glasses and tried for a smile. “We can handle thepolice.Won’tbethefirsttimewe’vehadtodosomequicktalking,eh?”

“We’lltakecareofyourgranandgramps,”Lizpromised.“Don’tneedtakingcareof,”Grampscomplained.Thenhebrokedowninafitofcoughing.“Justgo,

mydear.Thatbaboongodwas inmyhead. Ican tellyou—hemeans todestroyyou.Finishyourquestbeforehecomesafteryouagain.Icouldn’tevenstophim.Icouldn’t…”Helookedresentfullyathisshakyoldhands.“Ineverwould’veforgivenmyself.Now,offwithyou!”

“I’msorry,”Itoldthemall.“Ididn’tmean—”“Sorry?”Emmademanded.“SadieKane,thatwasthemostbrilliantbirthdaypartyever!Now,go!”SheandLizbothhuggedme,andbeforeIcouldstartcrying,BesshepherdedmeintotheMercedes.We drove north toward the Victoria Embankment. We were almost to the barricades when Bes

sloweddown.“What’swrong?”Iasked.“Can’twegopastinvisibly?”“It’snotthemortalsI’mworriedabout.”Hepointed.Allthepolice,reporters,andspectatorsaroundthebarricadeshadfallenasleep.Severalmilitary-

typesinbodyarmorwerecurledonthepavement,cuddlingtheirassaultriflesliketeddybears.Standinginfrontofthebarricades,blockingourcar,wereCarterandWalt.Theyweredisheveled

andbreathingheavily,asifthey’drunhereallthewayfromBrooklyn.Theybothhadwandsattheready.Cartersteppedforward,pointinghisswordatthewindshield.

“Lethergo!”heyelledatBes.“OrI’lldestroyyou!”Besglancedbackatme.“ShouldIfrightenhim?”“No!”Isaid.ThatwassomethingIdidn’tneedtoseeagain.“I’llhandleit.”Isteppedoutofthelimo.“Hello,boys.Brillianttiming.”WaltandCarterfrowned.“You’renotindanger?”Waltaskedme.“Notanymore.”Carterloweredhisswordreluctantly.“Youmeantheuglyguy—”“Isafriend,”Isaid.“Bast’sfriend.He’salsoourdriver.”Carter looked equal parts confused, annoyed, and uneasy, whichmade a satisfying ending tomy

birthdayparty.“Drivertowhere?”heasked.“Russia,ofcourse,”Isaid.“Hopin.”

CARTER

9.WeGetaVerticallyChallengedTourofRussia

ASUSUAL,SADIELEFTOUTsomeimportantdetails,likehowWaltandInearlykilledourselvestryingtofindher.

Itwasn’tfun,flyingtotheBrooklynMuseum.Wehadtohangfromaropeunderthegriffin’sbellylikeacoupleofTarzans,dodgingpolicemen,emergencyworkers,cityofficials,andseveralold ladieswhochasedafteruswithumbrellasscreaming,“There’sthehummingbird!Killit!”

Oncewemanagedtoopenaportal,IwantedtotakeFreakthroughwithus,butthegateofswirlingsandkindof…well,freakedhimout,sowehadtoleavehimbehind.

Whenwegot toLondon, televisionmonitors in the storefrontswere showing footageofWaterlooStation—somethingaboutastrangedisturbanceinsidetheterminalwithescapedanimalsandwindstorms.Gee,wonderwhothatcouldhavebeen?WeusedWalt’samuletforShutheairgodtosummonaburstofwind and jump toWaterlooBridge.Of course,we landed right in themiddle of a heavily armed riotsquad.JustluckthatIrememberedthesleepspell.

Then,finally,wewerereadytochargeinandsaveSadie,andsheridesupinalimousinedrivenbyanuglydwarfinaswimsuit,andsheaccusesusofbeinglate.

SowhenshetoldusthedwarfwasdrivingustoRussia,Iwaslike,“Whatever.”AndIgotintothecar.

ThelimousinedrovethroughWestminsterwhileSadie,Walt,andItradedstories.AfterhearingwhatSadiehadbeenthrough,Ididn’tfeelsobadaboutmyday.AdreamofApophis

and a three-headed snake in the training room didn’t seem nearly as scary as gods taking over ourgrandparents.I’dneverlikedGranandGrampsthatmuch,butstill—yikes.

Ialsocouldn’tbelieveourchauffeurwasBes.DadandIusedtolaughabouthispicturesinmuseums—hisbulgingeyes,waggingtongue,andgenerallackofclothing.Supposedly,hecouldscareawayalmostanything—spirits,demons,evenothergods—whichiswhytheEgyptiancommonershadlovedhim.Beslookedoutforthelittleguy…um,whichwasn’tmeantasadwarfjoke.Intheflesh,helookedexactlylikehispictures,onlyinfullcolor,withfullsmell.

“Weoweyou,”Itoldhim.“Soyou’reafriendofBast’s?”Hisearsturnedred.“Yeah…sure.Sheasksmeforafavoronceinawhile.Itrytohelpout.”Igotthefeelingtherewassomehistorytherehedidn’twanttogointo.“WhenHorus spoke tome,” I said, “hewarned that some of the godsmight try to stop us from

wakingRa.NowIguessweknowwho.”Sadieexhaled.“Iftheydidn’tlikeourplan,anangrytextmessagewould’vedone.NekhbetandBabi

almosttoremeapart!”Her face was a little green. Her combat boots were splattered with shampoo and mud, and her

favoriteleatherjackethadastainontheshoulderthatlookedsuspiciouslylikevulturepoop.Still,Iwasimpressed that shewasconscious.Potionsarehard tomakeandevenharder touse.There’s alwaysapriceforchannelingthatmuchmagic.

“Youdidgreat,”Itoldher.Sadielookedresentfullyattheblackknifeinherlap—theceremonialbladeAnubishadgivenher.

“I’dbedeadifnotforBes.”“Nah,”Bessaid.“Well,okay,youprobablywouldbe.Butyouwould’vegonedowninstyle.”

Sadieturnedthestrangeblackknifeasifshemightfindinstructionswrittenonit.“It’sanetjeri,”Isaid.“Aserpentblade.Priestsuseditfor—”“Theopening-of-the-mouthceremony,”shesaid.“Buthowdoesthathelpus?”“Don’tknow,”Iadmitted.“Bes?”“Deathrituals.Itrytoavoidthem.”I lookedatWalt.Magic itemswerehis specialty, buthedidn’t seem tobepayingattention.Ever

since Sadie had told us about her talkwithAnubis,Walt had been awfully quiet. He sat next to her,fidgetingwithhisrings.

“Youokay?”Iaskedhim.“Yeah…justthinking.”HeglancedatSadie.“Aboutnetjeriblades,Imean.”Sadie tuggedatherhair, likeshewas trying tomakeacurtainbetweenherandWalt.The tension

betweenthemwassothick,Idoubtedevenamagicknifecouldcutthroughit.“BloodyAnubis,”shemuttered.“Icouldhavedied,forallhecared.”Wedroveinsilenceforawhileafterthat.Finally,BesturnedontoWestminsterBridgeanddoubled

backovertheThames.Sadie frowned. “Where arewe going?We need a portal.All the best artifacts are at theBritish

Museum.”“Yeah,”Bessaid.“Andtheothermagiciansknowthat.”“Othermagicians?”Iasked.“Kid,theHouseofLifehasbranchesallovertheworld.LondonistheNinthNome.Withthatstuntat

Waterloo,Miss Sadie just sent up a big flare telling Desjardins’ followers,Here I am!You can betthey’re going to be hunting you now. They’ll be covering themuseum in case youmake a run for it.Fortunately,Iknowadifferentplacewecanopenaportal.”

Schooledbyadwarf. Itshould’veoccurredtomethatLondonhadothermagicians.TheHouseofLifewaseverywhere.OutsidethesecurityofBrooklynHouse,therewasn’tasinglecontinentwherewe’dbesafe.

WerodethroughSouthLondon.ThescenealongCamberwellRoadwasalmostasdepressingasmythoughts.Rowsofgrubbybrickapartmentsandlow-rentshopslinedthestreet.Anoldwomanscowledatus from a bus stop. In the doorway of anAsda grocery store, a couple of young tough guys eyed theMercedesasif theywantedtosteal it. Iwonderedif theyweregodsormagiciansindisguise,becausemostpeopledidn’tnoticethecar.

I couldn’t imaginewhereBeswas taking us. It didn’t seem like the kind of neighborhoodwhereyou’dfindalotofEgyptianartifacts.

Finallyabigparkopeneduponourleft:mistygreenfields,tree-linedpaths,andafewruinedwallslikeaqueducts,coveredinvines.Thelandslopedupwardtoahilltopwitharadiotower.

Besjumpedthecurbanddrovestraightoverthegrass,knockingdownasignthatsaidkeeptothepath.Theeveningwasgrayandrainy,sothereweren’tmanypeoplearound.Acoupleofjoggersonthenearbypathdidn’tevenlookatus,as if theysawMercedeslimosfour-wheelingacross theparkeveryday.

“Wherearewegoing?”Iasked.“Watchandlearn,kid,”Bessaid.Beingcalled “kid”by aguy shorter thanmewas a little annoying, but I keptmymouth shut.Bes

drove straight up the hill. Close to the top was stone staircase maybe thirty feet wide, built into thehillside.Itseemedtoleadnowhere.Besslammedonthebrakesandweswervedtoastop.ThehillwashigherthanI’drealized.SpreadoutbelowuswasthewholeofLondon.

Then I lookedmorecloselyat the staircase.Twosphinxesmadeofweatheredstone layoneithersideof thestairs,watchingoverthecity.Eachwasabouttenfeet longwiththetypical lion’sbodyand

pharaoh’shead,buttheyseemedtotallyoutofplaceinaLondonpark.“Thosearen’treal,”Isaid.Bessnorted.“Ofcoursethey’rereal.”“Imeantheyaren’tfromAncientEgypt.They’renotoldenough.”“Picky,picky,”Bessaid.“ThesearethestairstotheCrystalPalace.Bigglass-and-steelexhibithall

thesizeofacathedralusedtositrighthereonthishill.”Sadiefrowned.“Ireadaboutthatinschool.QueenVictoriahadapartythereorsomething.”“Apartyor something?”Besgrunted. “Itwas theGrandExhibition in1851.ShowcaseofBritish

Imperialmight,etcetera.Theyhadgoodcandiedapples.”“Youwerethere?”Iasked.Besshrugged.“Thepalaceburneddowninthe1930s,thankstosomestupidmagicians—butthat’s

anotherstory.Allthat’sleftnowareafewrelics,likethesestairsandthesphinxes.”“Astairwaytonowhere,”Isaid.“Notnowhere,”Bescorrected.“Tonightit’lltakeustoSt.Petersburg.”Waltsatforward.Hisinterestinthestatueshadapparentlyshakenhimoutofhisgloom.“Butifthesphinxesaren’treallyEgyptian,”hesaid,“howcantheyopenaportal?”Besgavehimatoothygrin.“DependsonwhatyoumeanbyreallyEgyptian,kid.Everygreatempire

isawannabeEgypt.HavingEgyptianstuffaroundmakesthemfeelimportant.That’swhyyou’vegot‘new’EgyptianartifactsinRome,Paris,London—younameit.ThatobeliskinWashington—”“Don’tmentionthatone,please,”Sadiesaid.“Anyway,” Bes continued, “these are still Egyptian sphinxes. They were built to play up the

connection between the British Empire and the Egyptian Empire. So yeah, they can channel magic.EspeciallyifI’mdriving.Andnow…”HelookedatWalt.“It’sprobablytimeforyoutogetout.”

Iwastoosurprisedtosayanything,butWaltstaredathislapasifhe’dbeenexpectingthis.“Hangon,”Sadiesaid.“Whycan’tWaltcomewithus?He’samagician.Hecanhelp.”Bes’sexpressionturnedserious.“Walt,youhaven’ttoldthem?”“Tolduswhat?”Sadiedemanded.Waltclutchedhisamulets,asiftheremightbeonethatwouldhelphimavoidthisconversation.“It’s

nothing.Really.It’sjust…IshouldhelpoutatBrooklynHouse.AndJazthought—”Hefaltered,probablyrealizingthatheshouldn’thavebroughtuphername.“Yes?”Sadie’stonewasdangerouslycalm.“How’sJazdoing?”“She’s—she’sstillinacoma,”Waltsaid.“Amossaysshe’llprobablymakeit,butthat’snotwhatI

—”“Good,”Sadiesaid.“Gladshe’llgetbetter.Soyouneedtogetback,then.That’sbrilliant.Offyou

go.Anubissaidweshouldhurry.”Not very subtle, theway she threwhis name out there.Walt looked like she’d kicked him in the

chest.IknewSadiewasn’tbeingfairtohim.FrommyconversationwithWaltbackatBrooklynHouse,I

knewhelikedSadie.Whateverwasbotheringhim,itwasn’tanykindofromanticthingwithJaz.Ontheotherhand,ifItriedtotakehisside,Sadiewouldjusttellmetobuttout.ImightevenmakethingsworsebetweenSadieandhim.

“It’snotthatIwanttogoback,”hemanaged.“Butyoucan’tgowithus,”Bessaidfirmly.IthoughtIheardconcerninhisvoice,evenpity.“Goon,

kid.It’sfine.”Waltfishedsomethingoutofhispocket.“Sadie,aboutyourbirthday…you,um,probablydon’twant

anymorepresents.It’snotamagicknife,butImadethisforyou.”

Hepouredagoldnecklaceintoherhand.IthadasmallEgyptiansymbol:

“That’sthebasketballhooponRa’shead,”Isaid.Walt and Sadie both frowned at me, and I realized I probably wasn’t making the moment more

magicalforthem.“Imeanit’sthesymbolthatsurroundsRa’ssuncrown,”Isaid.“Anever-endingloop,thesymbolofeternity,right?”

Sadieswallowedasifthemagicpotionwasstillbubblinginherstomach.“Eternity?”WaltshotmealookthatclearlymeantPleasestophelping.“Yeah,”hesaid,“um, it’scalledshen. I just thought,youknow,you’re looking forRa.Andgood

things, important things, shouldbeeternal.Somaybe it’llbringyou luck. Imeant togive it toyou thismorning,but…Ikindoflostmynerve.”

Sadiestaredthetalismanglitteringinherpalm.“Walt,Idon’t—Imean,thankyou,but—”“JustrememberIdidn’twanttoleave,”hesaid.“Ifyouneedhelp,I’llbethereforyou.”Heglanced

atmeandcorrectedhimself:“Imeanbothofyou,ofcourse.”“Butnow,”Bessaid,“youneedtogo.”“Happybirthday,Sadie,”Waltsaid.“Andgoodluck.”Hegotoutof thecarand trudgeddown thehill.Wewatcheduntilhewas justa tiny figure in the

gloom.Thenhevanishedintothewoods.“Twofarewellgifts,”Sadiemuttered,“fromtwogorgeousguys.Ihatemylife.”Shelatchedthegoldnecklacearoundherthroatandtouchedtheshensymbol.BesgazeddownatthetreeswhereWalthaddisappeared.“Poorkid.Bornunusual,allright.Itisn’t

fair.”“Whatdoyoumean?”Iasked.“WhywereyousoanxiousforWalttoleave?”Thedwarfrubbedhisscragglybeard.“Notmyplacetoexplain.Rightnowwe’vegotworktodo.

ThemoretimewegiveMenshikovtopreparehisdefenses,theharderthisisgoingtoget.”Iwasn’treadytodropit,butBesstaredatmestubbornly,andIknewIwasn’tgoingtogetanymore

answersfromhim.Nobodycanlookstubbornlikeadwarf.“So,Russia,”Isaid.“Bydrivingupanemptystaircase.”“Exactly.”Bes floored theaccelerator.TheMercedeschurnedgrassandmudandbarreledup the

stairs.Iwassurewe’dreachthetopandgetnothingbutabrokenaxle,butatthelastsecond,aportalofswirlingsandopenedinfrontofus.Ourwheelsleft theground,andtheblacklimousineflewheadlongintothevortex.

Weslammedintopavementontheotherside,scatteringagroupofsurprisedteenagers.Sadiegroanedandpriedherheadofftheheadrest.

“Can’twegoanywheregently?”sheasked.Bes hit the wipers and scraped the sand off our windshield. Outside it was dark and snowy.

Eighteenth-centurystonebuildingslinedafrozenriverlitwithstreetlamps.Beyondtheriverglowedmorefairy-talebuildings:goldenchurchdomes,whitepalaces,andornatemansionspaintedEaster-egggreenandblue.Imighthavebelievedwe’dtraveledbackintimethreehundredyears—exceptforthecars,theelectric lights, and of course the teenagers with body piercings, dyed hair, and black leather clothesscreamingatusinRussianandpoundingonthehoodoftheMercedesbecausewe’dalmostrunthemover.

“Theycanseeus?”Sadieasked.

“Russians,”Bessaidwithakindofgrudgingadmiration.“Verysuperstitiouspeople.Theytend toseemagicforwhatitis.We’llhavetobecarefulhere.”

“You’vebeenherebefore?”Iasked.He gaveme a duh look, then pointed to either side of the car.We’d landed between two stone

sphinxesstandingonpedestals.TheylookedlikealotofsphinxesI’dseen—withcrownedhumanheadsonlionbodies—butI’dneverseensphinxescoveredinsnow.

“Arethoseauthentic?”Iasked.“Farthest-northEgyptian artifacts in theworld,”Bes said. “Pillaged fromThebes and brought up

heretodecorateRussia’snewimperialcity,St.Petersburg.LikeIsaid,everynewempirewantsapieceofEgypt.”

The kids outside were still shouting and banging on the car. One smashed a bottle against ourwindshield.

“Um,”Sadiesaid,“shouldwemove?”“Nah,” Bes said. “Russian kids always hang out by the sphinxes. Been doing it for hundreds of

years.”“Butit’slikemidnighthere,”Isaid.“Andit’ssnowing.”“DidImentionthey’reRussian?”Bessaid.“Don’tworry.I’lltakecareofit.”He opened his door. Glacier-cold wind swept into theMer-cedes, but Bes stepped out wearing

nothing but his Speedo. The kids backed up quickly. I couldn’t blame them. Bes said something inRussian,thenroaredlikealion.Thekidsscreamedandran.

Bes’sformseemedtoripple.Whenhegotbackintothecar,hewaswearingawarmwintercoat,afur-linedhat,andfuzzymittens.

“See?”hesaid.“Superstitious.Theyknowenoughtorunfromagod.”“AsmallhairygodinaSpeedo,yes,”Sadiesaid.“Sowhatdowedonow?”Bespointedacrosstheriverataglowingpalaceofwhite-and-goldstone.“That’stheHermitage.”“Hermitslivethere?”Sadieasked.“No,”Isaid.“I’veheardofthatplace.Itwasthetsar’spalace.Nowit’samuseum.BestEgyptian

collectioninRussia.”“Dad took you there, I suppose?” Sadie asked. I thoughtwewere over thewhole jealous-about-

traveling-the-world-with-Dadthing,buteveryonceinawhileitcroppedupagain.“Weneverwent.” I triednot tosounddefensive.“Hegotan invitation tospeak thereonce,buthe

declined.”Bes chuckled. “Your dad was smart. Russian magicians don’t exactly welcome outsiders. They

protecttheirterritoryfiercely.”Sadie stared across the river. “Youmean the headquarters of the Eighteenth Nome is inside the

museum?”“Somewhere,”Besagreed,“butit’shiddenwithmagic,becauseI’veneverfoundtheentrance.That

partyou’relookingat is theWinterPalace, theoldhomeof thetsar.There’sawholecomplexofothermansions behind it. I’ve heard it would take eleven days just to see everything in all the Hermitagecollections.”

“ButunlesswewakeRa,theworldendsinfourdays,”Isaid.“Threedaysnow,”Sadiecorrected,“ifit’saftermidnight.”Iwinced.“Thanksforthereminder.”“So take the abbreviated tour,” Bes said. “Start with the Egyptian section. Ground floor, main

museum.”“Aren’tyoucomingwithus?”Iasked.“He can’t, can he?” Sadie guessed. “Like Bast couldn’t enter Desjardins’ house in Paris. The

magicianscharmtheirheadquartersagainstthegods.Isn’tthatright?”Besmadeanevenuglierface.“I’llwalkyoudowntothebridge,butIcan’tgoanyfarther.IfIcross

theRiverNeva tooclose to theHermitage, I’ll setoffallkindsofalarms.You’llhave tosneak insidesomehow—”

“Breakingintoamuseumatnight,”Sadiemuttered.“We’vehadsuchgoodluckwiththat.”“—andfindtheentrancetotheEighteenthNome.Anddon’tgetcapturedalive.”“Whatdoyoumean?”Iasked.“It’sbettertobecaptureddead?”Thelookinhiseyeswasgrim.“Justtrustme.Youdon’twanttobeMenshikov’sprisoner.”Bessnappedhisfingers,andsuddenlywewerewearingfleeceparkas,skipants,andwinterboots.“Comeon,malishi,”hesaid.“I’llwalkyoutotheDvortsovyyBridge.”

Thebridgewasonlyafewhundredyardsaway,butitseemedfarther.Marchobviouslywasn’tspringtimeinSt.Petersburg.Thedark,thewind,andthesnowmadeitfeelmorelikeJanuaryinAlaska.Personally,Iwould’ve preferred a sweltering day in the Egyptian desert. Even with the warm clothes Bes hadsummonedforus,myteethcouldn’tstopchattering.

Beswasn’tinahurry.HekeptslowingdownandgivingustheguidedtouruntilIthoughtmynosewouldfallofffromfrostbite.HetolduswewereonVasilevskyIsland,acrosstheNevaRiverfromthecenter of St. Petersburg. He pointed out the different church spires andmonuments, and when he gotexcited,hestartedslippingintoRussian.

“You’vespentalotoftimehere,”Isaid.Hewalkedinsilenceforafewpaces.“Mostofthatwaslongago.Itwasn’t—”Hestoppedsoabruptly,Istumbledintohim.Hestaredacrossthestreetatabigpalacewithcanary

yellowwallsandagreengabledroof.Litupinthenightthroughaswirlofsnow,itlookedunreal,likeoneoftheghostlyimagesintheFirstNome’sHallofAges.

“PrinceMenshikov’spalace,”Besmuttered.Hisvoicewasfullofloathing.IalmostthoughthewasgoingtoyellBOOatthebuilding,buthejust

grittedhisteeth.Sadielookedatmeforanexplanation,butIwasn’tawalkingWikipedialikesheseemedtothink.I

knewstuffaboutEgypt,butRussia?Notsomuch.“YoumeanMenshikovasinVladtheInhaler?”Iasked.“He’sadescendant.”Bescurledhislipwithdistaste.HesaidaRussianwordIwaswillingtobet

wasaprettybadinsult.“Backintheseventeenhundreds,PrinceMenshikovthrewapartyforPetertheGreat—the tsarwhobuilt thiscity.Peter loveddwarves.Hewasa lot like theEgyptians thatway.Hethoughtweweregood luck, sohealwayskept someofus inhiscourt.Anyway,Menshikovwanted toentertainthetsar,sohethoughtitwouldbefunnytostageadwarfwedding.Heforcedthem…heforcedustodressup,pretendtogetmarried,anddancearound.Allthebigfolkwerelaughing,jeering…”

Hisvoicetrailedoff.Besdescribed theparty like itwasyesterday.Then I remembered that thisweird littleguywasa

god.He’dbeenaroundforeons.Sadieputherhandonhisshoulder.“I’msorry,Bes.Musthavebeenawful.”Hescowled.“Russianmagicians…theylovecapturinggods,usingus.Icanstillhearthatwedding

music,andthetsarlaughing…”“How’dyougetaway?”Iasked.Besglaredatme.Obviously,I’daskedabadquestion.“Enoughofthis.”Besturneduphiscollar.“We’rewastingtime.”Heforgedahead,butIgotthefeelinghewasn’treallyleavingMenshikov’spalacebehind.Suddenly

itscheeryyellowwallsandbrightlylitwindowslookedsinister.

Anotherhundredyards through thebitterwind, andwe reached thebridge.On theother side, theWinterPalaceshimmered.

“I’lltaketheMercedesthelongwayaround,”Bessaid.“Downtothenextbridge,andcirclesouthoftheHermitage.LesslikelytoalertthemagiciansthatI’mhere.”

NowIrealizedwhyhewassoparanoidaboutsettingoffalarms.MagicianshadsnaredhiminSt.Petersburgoncebefore.Irememberedwhathe’dtoldusinthecar:Don’tgetcapturedalive.

“Howdowefindyouifwesucceed?”Sadieasked.“Whenyousucceed,”Bessaid.“Thinkpositive,girl,ortheworldends.”“Right.”Sadieshiveredinhernewparka.“Positive.”“I’llmeetyouontheNevskyProspekt,themainstreetwithalltheshops,justsouthoftheHermitage.

I’llbeattheChocolateMuseum.”“Thewhatnow?”Iasked.“Well, it’snot reallyamuseum.Moreofa shop—closed this timeofnight,but theowneralways

opensupforme.They’vegotchocolateeverything—chesssets,lions,VladimirLeninheads—”“Thecommunistguy?”Iasked.“Yes,ProfessorBrilliant,”Bessaid.“Thecommunistguy,inchocolate.”“Soletmegetthisstraight,”Sadiesaid.“WebreakintoaheavilyguardedRussiannationalmuseum,

find themagicians’ secret headquarters, find a dangerous scroll, and escape.Meanwhile, youwill beeatingchocolate.”

Besnoddedsolemnly.“It’sagoodplan.Itmightwork.IfsomethinghappensandIcan’tmeetyouattheChocolateMuseum,ourexitpointistheEgyptianBridge,tothesouthattheFontankaRiver.Justturnonthe—”

“Enough,”Sadie said. “Youwillmeet us at the chocolate shop.And youwill providemewith atakeawaybag.Thatisfinal.Now,go!”

Besgaveheralopsidedsmile.“You’reokay,girl.”HetrudgedbacktowardtheMercedes.Ilookedacrossthehalf-frozenrivertotheWinterPalace.Somehow,Londondidn’tseemasdreary

ordangerousanymore.“AreweinasmuchtroubleasIthink?”IaskedSadie.“More,”shesaid.“Let’sgocrashthetsar’spalace,shallwe?”

CARTER

10.AnOldRedFriendComestoVisit

GETTINGINSIDETHEHERMITAGEwasn’taproblem.State-of-the-artsecuritydoesn’tprotectagainstmagic.SadieandIhadtocombineforcestogetpast

theperimeter,butwitha little concentration, inkandpapyrus, and some tappedenergy fromourgodlyfriendsIsisandHorus,wemanagedtopulloffashortstrollthroughtheDuat.

OneminutewewerestandingintheabandonedPalaceSquare.Theneverythingwentgrayandmisty.Mystomach tingled like Iwas in free fall.We slippedoutof synchwith themortalworldandpassedthroughtheirongatesandsolidstoneintothemuseum.

TheEgyptianroomwasonthegroundfloor,justasBeshadsaid.Were-enteredthemortalrealmandfoundourselvesinthemiddleofthecollection:sarcophagiinglasscases,hieroglyphicscrolls,statuesofgodsandpharaohs.Itwasn’tmuchdifferentfromahundredotherEgyptiancollectionsI’dseen,butthesettingwasprettyimpressive.Avaultedceilingsoaredoverhead.Thepolishedmarblefloorwasdoneinawhite-andgraydiamondpattern,whichmadewalkingonitkindoflikewalkingonanopticalillusion.Iwonderedhowmanyroomstherewerelikethisinthetsar’spalace,andifitreallytookelevendaystoseethemall.IhopedBeswasrightaboutthesecretentrancetothenomebeingsomewhereinthisroom.We didn’t have eleven days to search. In less than seventy-two hours, Apophis would break free. Irememberedthatglowingredeyebeneaththescarabshells—aforceofchaossopowerful,itcouldmelthumansenses.Threedays,andthatthingwouldbeunleashedontheworld.

Sadiesummonedherstaffandpointeditatthenearestsecuritycamera.Thelenscrackedandmadeasoundlikeabugzapper.Eveninthebestofsituations,technologyandmagicdon’tgetalong.Oneoftheeasiestspellsintheworldistomakeelectronicsmalfunction.Ijusthavetolookatacellphonefunnytomakeitblowup.Andcomputers?Forgetaboutit.IimaginedSadiehadjustsentamagicalpulsethroughthesecuritysystemthatwouldfryeverycameraandsensorinthenetwork.

Still, therewereotherkindsofsurveillance—magicalkinds.Ipulledapieceofblacklinenandapairofcrudewaxshabtioutofmybag.Iwrappedtheshabtiin theclothandspokeacommandword:“I’mun.”

The hieroglyph forHide glowed briefly over the cloth. A mass of darkness bloomed from thepackage, likeasquid’s inkcloud. Itexpandeduntil itcoveredbothSadieandme inagauzybubbleofshadows.Wecouldsee through it,buthopefullynothingcouldsee in.Thecloudwouldbe invisible toanyoneoutside.

“Yougotitrightthistime!”Sadiesaid.“Whendidyoumasterthespell?”Iprobablyblushed.I’dbeenobsessedwithfiguringouttheinvisibilityspellformonths,eversince

I’dseenZiauseitintheFirstNome.“ActuallyI’mstill—”Agoldsparkshotoutofthecloudlikeaminiaturefireworksrocket.“I’mstill

workingonit.”Sadiesighed.“Well…betterthanlasttime.Thecloudlookedlikealavalamp.Andthetimebefore,

whenitsmelledlikerotteneggs—”

“Couldwejustgetgoing?”Iasked.“Whereshouldwestart?”Hereyeslockedononeofthedisplays.Shedriftedtowarditinatrance.“Sadie?” I followedher to a limestonegravemarker—a stele—about two feet by three feet.The

descriptionnexttoitwasinRussianandEnglish.“‘FromthetombofthescribeIpi,’”Ireadaloud.“‘WorkedinthecourtofKingTut.’Whyareyou

interested…oh.”Stupidme.ThepictureonthegravestoneshowedthedeceasedscribehonoringAnubis.Aftertalking

with Anubis in person, Sadie must’ve found it strange to see him in a three-thousand-year-old tombpainting,especiallywhenhewaspicturedwiththeheadofajackal,wearingaskirt.

“Waltlikesyou.”IhavenoideawhyIblurtedthatout.Thiswasn’tthetimeortheplace.IknewIwasn’tdoingWalt

anyfavorsbytakinghisside.ButI’dstartedtofeelbadforhimafterBeskickedhimoutofthelimo.TheguyhadcomeallthewaytoLondontohelpmesaveSadie,andwe’ddumpedhiminCrystalPalaceParklikeanunwantedhitchhiker.

IwaskindofangryatSadieforgivinghimthecoldshoulderandcrushingsohardonAnubis,whowasfivethousandyearstoooldforherandnotevenhuman.Plus,thewayshesnubbedWaltremindedmetoomuch of thewayZia had treatedme at first.Andmaybe, if Iwas honestwithmyself, Iwas alsoirritatedwithSadiebecauseshe’dsolvedherownproblemsinLondonwithoutneedingourhelp.

Wow.Thatsoundedreallyselfish.But Isuppose itwas true.Amazinghowmanydifferentwaysayoungersistercanannoyyouatonce.

Sadiedidn’ttakehereyesoffthestele.“Carter,youhavenoideawhatyou’retalkingabout.”“You’renotgivingtheguyachance,”Iinsisted.“Whatever’sgoingonwithhim,it’sgotnothingto

dowithyou.”“Veryreassuring,butthat’snot—”“Besides,Anubisisagod.Youdon’thonestlythink—”“Carter!”shesnapped.Mycloakingspellmust’vebeensensitivetoemotion,becauseanothergold

sparkwhistled andpopped fromournot-so-invisible cloud. “Iwasn’t lookingat this stonebecauseofAnubis.”

“Youweren’t?”“No.And I’m certainly not having an argumentwith you aboutWalt. Contrary towhat youmight

think,Idon’tspendeverywakinghourthinkingaboutboys.”“Justmostwakinghours?”Sherolledhereyes.“Lookatthegravestone,birdbrain.It’sgotaborderaroundit, likeawindow

frameor—”“Adoor,”Isaid.“It’safalsedoor.Lotsoftombshadthose.Itwaslikeasymbolicgatewayforthe

deadperson’sba,soitcouldgobackandforthfromtheDuat.”Sadiepulledherwandandtracedtheedgesofthestele.“ThisblokeIpiwasascribe,whichwas

anotherwordformagician.Hecould’vebeenoneofus.”“So?”“Somaybethat’swhythestoneisglowing,Carter.Whatifthisfalsedoor’snotfalse?”Ilookedatthestelemoreclosely,butIdidn’tseeanyglow.IthoughtmaybeSadiewashallucinating

fromexhaustionortoomuchpotioninhersystem.Thenshetouchedherwandtothecenterofthesteleandspokethefirstcommandwordwe’deverlearned:“W’peh.”

Open.Agoldenhieroglyphburnedonthestone:

The gravemarker shot out a beamof light like amovie projector. Suddenly, a full-size doorwayshimmeredinfrontofus—arectangularportalshowingthehazyimageofanotherroom.

IlookedatSadieinamazement.“Howdidyoudothat?”Iasked.“You’veneverbeenabletodothatbefore.”

Sheshruggedasifitwerenobigdeal.“Iwasn’tthirteenbefore.Maybethat’sit.”“ButI’mfourteen!”Iprotested.“AndIstillcan’tdothat.”“Girlsmatureearlier.”Igrittedmyteeth.Ihatedthespringmonths—March,April,May—becauseuntilmybirthdayrolled

aroundinJune,Sadiecouldclaimtobeonlyayearyoungerthanme.Shealwaysgotanattitudeafterherbirthday,asifshe’dcatchuptomesomehowandbecomemybigsister.Talkaboutanightmare.

She gestured at the glowing doorway. “After you, brother, dear. You’re the onewith the sparklyinvisibilitycloud.”

BeforeIcouldlosemycool,Isteppedthroughtheportal.

Ialmostfellandbrokemyface.Theothersideoftheportalwasamirrorhangingfivefeetoffthefloor.I’d steppedonto a fireplacemantel. I caughtSadie as she came through, just in time tokeepher fromtopplingofftheledge.

“Ta,”shewhispered.“Someone’sbeenreadingtoomuchAliceThroughtheLookingGlass.”I’d thought the Egyptian room was impressive, but it was nothing compared to this ballroom.

Copperygeometricdesignsglitteredon theceiling.Thewallswere linedwithdarkgreencolumnsandgildeddoors.Whiteandgold inlaidmarblemadeahugeoctagonalpatternon the floor.Withablazingchandelierabove,thegoldenfiligreeandgreenandwhitepolishedstonegleamedsobrightly,theyhurtmyeyes.

ThenIrealizedmostofthelightwasn’tcomingfromthechandelier.Itwascomingfromthemagiciancastingaspellattheotherendoftheroom.Hisbackwasturned,butIcouldtellitwasVladMenshikov.JustasSadiehaddescribed,hewasapudgylittlemanwithcurlygrayhairandawhitesuit.Hestoodinaprotective circle that pulsedwith emerald light.He raisedhis staff, and the tip burned like aweldingtorch.Tohisright,justoutsidethecircle,stoodagreenvasethesizeofagrownman.Tohisleft,writhinginglowingchains,wasacreatureIrecognizedasademon.Ithadahairyhumanoidbodywithpurplishskin,butinsteadofahead,agiantcorkscrewsproutedbetweenitsshoulders.

“Mercy!”itscreamedinawatery,metallicvoice.Don’taskmehowademoncouldscreamwithacorkscrewhead—butthesoundresonatedupthescrewlikeitwasamassivetuningfork.

VladMenshikovkeptchanting.Thegreenvasethrobbedwithlight.Sadienudgedmeandwhispered,“Look.”“Yeah,”Iwhisperedback.“Somekindofsummoningritual.”“No,”shehissed.“Lookthere.”Shepointedtoourright.Inthecorneroftheroom,twentyfeetfromthefireplacemantel,wasanold-

fashionedmahoganydesk.Sadiehad toldmeaboutAnubis’s instructions:Wewere supposed to findMenshikov’sdesk.The

nextsectionoftheBookofRawouldbeinthemiddledrawer.Couldthatreallybethedesk?Itseemedtooeasy.Asquietlyaswecould,SadieandIclimbedoffthemantelandcreptalongthewall.Iprayedtheinvisibilityshroudwouldn’tsendupanymorefireworks.

WewereabouthalfwaytothedeskwhenVladMenshikovfinishedhischant.Heslammedhisstaff

againstthefloor,anditstucktherestraightup,thetipstillburningatamilliondegrees.Heturnedhisheadslightly, and I caught theglint ofhiswhite sunglasses.He rummaged inhis coatpocketswhile thebiggreenvaseglowedandthedemonscreamedinhischains.

“Don’t fuss, Death-to-Corks,” Menshikov chided. His voice was even rougher than Sadie haddescribed—like a heavy smoker talking through the blades of a fan. “You know I need a sacrifice tosummonsuchamajorgod.It’snothingpersonal.”

Sadiefrownedatmeandmouthed,Majorgod?Ishookmyhead,baffled.TheHouseofLifedidn’tallowmortalstosummongods.Itwasthemain

reasonDesjardinshatedus.Menshikovwassupposedlyhisbestbud.Sowhatwashedoing,breakingtherules?

“Hurts!”thepoordemonwailed.“Servedyouforfiftyyears,master.Please!”“Now,now,”Menshikovsaidwithoutatraceofsympathy.“Ihavetouseexecration.Onlythemost

painfulformofbanishmentwillgenerateenoughenergy.”Fromhis suit coat pocket,Menshikovpulled a regular corkscrewand a shardof pottery covered

withredhieroglyphics.Heheldupbothitemsandbegantochantagain:“InameyouDeath-to-Corks,ServantofVladimir,

HeWhoTurnsintheNight.”As the demon’s names were spoken, the magical chains steamed and tightened around his body.

Menshikovheldthecorkscrewovertheflameofhisstaff.Thedemonthrashedandwailed.Asthesmallercorkscrewturnedredhot,thedemon’sbodybegantosmoke.

Iwatched inhorror. Iknewabout sympatheticmagic,ofcourse.The ideawas tomakesomethingsmallaffectsomethinglargebybindingthemtogether.Themorealiketheitemswere—likethecorkscrewandthedemon—theeasiertheyweretobind.Voodoodollsworkedonthesametheory.

Butexecrationwasseriousstuff.Itmeantdestroyingacreatureutterly—erasingitsphysicalformandevenitsnamefromexistence.Ittooksomeseriousmagictopulloffthatkindofspell.Ifdonewrong,itcoulddestroythecaster.Butifdoneright,mostvictimsdidn’tstandachance.Regularmortals,magicians,ghosts,evendemonscouldbewipedoffthefaceoftheearth.Execrationmightnotdestroymajorpowerslikegods,butitwouldstillbelikedetonatinganuclearbombintheirface.They’dbeblastedsodeepintotheDuat,theymightnevercomeback.

VladMenshikovworkedthespelllikehediditeveryday.Hekeptchantingasthecorkscrewbeganto melt, and the demon melted with it. Menshikov dropped the pottery shard on the floor—the redhieroglyphs that spelled all the demon’s various names. With one final word of power, Menshikovsteppedontheshardandcrushedittobits.Death-to-Corksdissolved,chainsandall.

UsuallyIdon’tfeelsorryforcreaturesoftheunderworld,butIcouldn’thelpgettingalumpinmythroat. I couldn’tbelieve thecasualwayMenshikovhad snuffedouthis servant just topowera largerspell.

Assoonasthedemonwasgone,thefireonMenshikov’sstaffdied.Hieroglyphsburnedaroundthesummoningcircle.Thebiggreenjartrembledandavoicefromdeepinsideboomed,“Hello,Vladimir.Longtime.”

Sadie inhaled sharply. I had to cover hermouth to keep her from screaming.We both knew thatvoice.IremembereditalltoowellfromtheRedPyramid.

“Set.”Menshikovdidn’tevenlooktiredfromthesummoning.Hesoundedawfullycalmforsomeoneaddressingthegodofevil.“Weneedtotalk.”

Sadiepushedmyhandawayandwhispered,“Ishemad?”“Desk,”Isaid.“Scroll.Outofhere.Now.”Foronce,shegavemenoargument.Shebeganfishingsuppliesoutofherbag.MeanwhilethebiggreenjarwobbledasifSetweretryingtotipitover.

“Amalachitevase?”Thegodsoundedannoyed.“Really,Vladimir.Ithoughtwewereonfriendliertermsthanthat.”

Menshikov’slaughsoundedlikesomeonechokingacat.“Excellentatconstrainingevilspirits,isn’tit?Andthisroomhasmoremalachitethananyotherplaceonearth.EmpressAlexandrawasquitewisetohaveitbuiltforherdrawingroom.”

Thejarplinked.“Butitsmellslikeoldpenniesinhere,andit’smuchtoocold.Haveyoueverbeenstuckinamalachitejar,Vlad?I’mnotagenie.I’dbesomuchmoretalkativeifwecouldsitface-to-face,perhapsovertea.”

“I’mafraidnot,”saidMenshikov.“Now,you’llanswermyquestions.”“Oh, verywell,”Set said. “I likeBrazil for theWorldCup. I’d advise investing in platinumand

small-capfunds.Andyourluckynumbersthisweekare2,13—”“Notthosequestions!”Menshikovsnapped.Sadie pulled a lump ofwax from her bag andworked furiously, fashioning some kind of animal

shape.Iknewshewasgoingtotestthedeskformagicdefenses.ShewasbetteratthatkindofspellthanIwas,butIwasn’tsurehowshe’ddoit.Egyptianmagicisprettyopen-ended.Therearealwaysathousanddifferentwaystoaccomplishatask.Thetrickisbeingcreativewithyoursuppliesandpickingawaythatwon’tgetyoukilled.

“YouwilltellmewhatIneedtoknow,”Menshikovdemanded,“orthatjarwillbecomeevenmoreuncomfortable.”

“MydearVladimir.”Set’svoicewasfullofevilamusement.“Whatyouneedtoknowmaybeverydifferentfromwhatyouwanttoknow.Didn’tyourunfortunateaccidentteachyouthat?”

Menshikovtouchedhissunglasses,asifmakingsuretheyhadn’tfallenoff.“YouwilltellmethebindingforApophis,”hesaidinasteelytone.“Thenyouwilltellmehowto

neutralize the enchantmentsonBrooklynHouse.YouknowKane’sdefensesbetter than anyone.Once Idestroyhim,Iwillhavenoopposition.”

AsthemeaningofMenshikov’swordssankin,awaveofragenearlyknockedmeoffmyfeet.Thistime,Sadiehadtoclampmymouthshut.

“Calm!”shewhispered.“You’regoingtostarttheinvisibilityshieldpoppingagain!”Ipushedherhandawayandhissed,“ButhewantstofreeApophis!”“Iknow.”“AndattackAmos—”“Iknow!Sohelpmegetthebloodyscrollandlet’sgetoutofhere!”Sheputherwaxanimalonthe

desk—adog,Ithought—andbeganwritinghieroglyphsonitsbackwithastylus.Itookashakybreath.Sadiewasright,butstill—MenshikovwastalkingaboutfreeingApophisand

killing our uncle.What kind of magician makes deals with Set? Except for Sadie and me. That wasdifferent.

Set’slaughechoedinsidethegreenvase.“So:thebindingforApophisandthesecretsofBrooklynHouse.Isthatall,Vladimir?IwonderwhatyourmasterDesjardinswouldthinkifhefoundoutyourrealplan,andthesortoffriendsyoukeep.”

Menshikovsnatcheduphisstaff.Thecarved-serpenttipflaredagain.“Becarefulwithyourthreats,EvilDay.”

Thejartrembled.Throughouttheroom,glasscasesshivered.Thechandelierjangledlikeathree-tonwindchime.

IgaveSadieapanickedlook.“Didhejust—”“Set’ssecretname,”sheconfirmed,stillwritingonherwaxdog.“How—”“Idon’tknow,Carter.Now,shh!”

Agod’ssecretnamehadallkindsofpower.Itwassupposedtobealmostimpossibletoget.Totrulylearnit,youcouldn’tjusthearitrepeatedbysomerandomperson.Youhadtohearitstraightfromthegodhimself,or from thepersonclosest tohisheart.Onceyouhad it, itgaveyouseriousmagical leverageover that god. Sadie had learned Set’s secret name during our quest last Christmas, but how hadMenshikovgottenit?

Inside the jar, Set growledwith annoyance. “I really hate that name.Why couldn’t it have beenGloriousDay?OrtheRockin’RedReaper?That’srathernice.Badenoughwhenyouweretheonlyonewhoknewit,Vlad.NowI’vegottheKanegirltoworryabout—”

“Serveus,”Menshikovsaid,“andtheKaneswillbedestroyed.YouwillbethehonoredlieutenantofApophis.Youcanraiseanothertemple,evengranderthantheRedPyramid.”

“Uh-huh,” Set said. “Maybe you haven’t noticed, but I don’t do well with the whole second-in-commandconcept.AsforApophis,he’snotonetosufferothergodsgettingattention.”

“WewillfreeApophiswithorwithoutyourhelp,”Menshikovwarned.“Bytheequinox,hewillrise.Butifyouhelpusmakethathappensooner,youwillberewarded.Yourotheroptionisexecration.Oh,Iknowitwon’tdestroyyoucompletely,butwithyoursecretnameIcansendyouintotheabyssforeons,anditwillbevery,verypainful.I’llgiveyouthirtysecondstodecide?”

InudgedSadie.“Hurry.”She tapped thewaxdog,and itcame to life. It startedsniffingaround thedesk, lookingformagic

traps.Insidethejar,Setsighed.“Well,Vladimir,youdoknowhowtomakeanappealingoffer.Thebinding

forApophis,yousay?Yes,IwastherewhenRacasttheSerpentintothatprisonofscarabs.IsupposeIcouldremembertheingredientsheusedforthebinding.Quiteadaythatwas!Iwaswearingred,Ithink.Atthevictoryfeasttheyservedthemostdelicioushoney-bakedlocusts—”

“Youhavetenseconds,”Menshikovsaid.“Oh,I’llcooperate!Ihopeyouhaveapenandpaperhandy.It’sarather longlistof ingredients.Let’ssee…whatdidRauseforabase?Batdung?Thenthere

werethedriedtoads,ofcourse.Andthen…”Setbeganrattlingoffingredients,whileSadie’swaxdogsniffedaroundthedesk.Finallyitlaydown

ontheblotterandwenttosleep.Sadiefrownedatme.“Notraps.”“That’stooeasy,”Iwhisperedback.Sheopenedthetopdrawer.Therewasthepapyrusscroll,justliketheonewe’dfoundinBrooklyn.

Sheslippeditintoherbag.WewerehalfwaybacktothefireplacewhenSetcaughtusbysurprise.Hewasgoingonwithhislistofridiculousingredients:“Andsnakeskins.Yes,threelargeones,with

asprinklingofhotsauce—”Thenhestoppedabruptly, likehe’dhada revelation.Hespoke inamuchlouder voice, calling across the room. “And a sacrificial victimwouldbegood!Maybe a young idiotmagicianwhocan’tdoaproperinvisibilityspell,likeCARTERKANEoverthere!”

Ifroze.VladimirMenshikovturned,andmypanicbecametoomuchfortheinvisibilityshroud.HalfadozengoldensparksshotupwithaloudhappyWHEEEEE!Thecloudofdarknessdissolved.Menshikovstaredrightatme.“My,my…howkindofyoutodeliveryourselves.Welldone,Set.”“Hmm?”Setaskedinnocently.“Dowehavevisitors?”“Set!”Sadiegrowled.“I’llkickyouinthebaforthat,sohelpme!”Thevoiceinthejargasped.“SadieKane?Howexciting!ToobadI’mstuckinthisjarandnoone

willletmeout.”Thehintwasn’ttoosubtle,butsurelyhecouldn’tbelievewe’dfreehimafterhe’dblownourcover.Sadie facedMenshikov, herwand and staff ready. “You’reworkingwithApophis.You’re on the

wrongside.”Menshikovremovedhisglasses.Hiseyeswereruinedpitsofscartissue,burnedskin,andglistening

corneas.Believeme,that’stheleastgrosswayIcandescribethem.“Thewrong side?”Menshikov asked. “Girl, you have no idea the powers that are in play. Five

thousandyearsago,Egyptianpriestsprophesiedhowtheworldwouldend.Rawouldgrowoldandtired,andApophiswouldswallowhimandplungetheworldintodarkness.Chaoswouldruleforever.Nowthetimeishere!Youcan’tstopit.Youcanonlychoosewhetheryou’llbedestroyed,orwhetheryou’llbowtothepowerofChaosandsurvive.”

“Right,”Setchimedin.“It’stoobadI’mstuckinthisjar.OtherwiseImighthavetotakesidesandhelpsomeone.”

“Shutup,Set,”Menshikovsnapped.“Nooneiscrazyenoughtotrustyou.Andasforyou,children,youareclearlynotthethreatIimagined.”

“Great,”Isaid.“Sowecango?”Menshikov laughed. “Would you run toDesjardins and tell himwhat you’ve heard?Hewouldn’t

believeyou.He’dputyouontrial,thenexecuteyou.ButI’llspareyouthatembarrassment.I’llkillyourightnow.”

“Howfun!”Setsaid.“WishIcouldseeit,butI’mstuckinthisjar.”Itriedtothink.Menshikovwasstillinsideaprotectivecircle,whichmeanthehadabigdefensive

advantage. Iwasn’t sure I could bust through it, even if I could summon a combat avatar.Meanwhile,Menshikovcouldtakehistimetryingoutdifferentwaystodestroyus.Wouldheblastuswithelementalmagic?Changeusintobugs?

Hethrewhisstafftotheground,andIcursed.Throwingdownyourstaffmaysoundlikeasignofsurrender,butinEgyptianmagic,it’sbadnews.It

usuallymeansHey,I’mgoing tosummonabignasty thing tokillyouwhile Istandsafely insidemycircleandlaugh!

Sureenough,Menshikov’sstaffbegantowritheandgrow.Great,Ithought.Anotherserpent.Butsomethingwaswrongwiththisone.Insteadofatail,ithadaheadonbothends.AtfirstIthought

we’dcaughtsomeluck,andMenshikovhadsummonedamonsterwithararegeneticbirthdefect.Thenthethingsproutedfourdragonlegs.Itsbodygrewuntilitwasthesizeofadrafthorse,curvedlikeaU,withmottled redandgreen scales anda rattlesnakeheadoneither side. It remindedmeof that two-headedanimal fromDoctorDolittle.Youknow—thepushmi-pullyu?ExceptDoctorDolittlewouldneverhavewantedtotalktothisthing,andifhehad,itwouldprobablyhavesaidjustHello,I’mgoingtoeatyou.

Bothheadsturnedtowardusandhissed.“I’vereallyhadenoughsnakesforoneweek,”Imuttered.Menshikovsmiled.“Ah,butserpentsaremyspecialty,CarterKane!”Hetouchedasilverpendant

hangingoverhisnecktie—anamuletshapedlikeasnake.“Andthisparticularcreatureismyfavorite:thetjesuheru.Twohungrymouthstofeed.Twotroublesomechildren.Perfect!”

SadieandIlookedateachother.Wehadoneofthosemomentswherewecouldreadeachother’sexpressionsperfectly.

Webothknewwecouldn’tdefeatMenshikov.He’dletthepushmi-pullyusnakewearusdown,andifwesurvivedthat,he’djustblastuswithsomethingelse.Theguywasapro.Wewouldeitherdieorgetcaptured,andBeshadwarnedusaboutnotgetting takenalive.After seeingwhathadhappened to thatdemonDeath-to-Corks,ItookBes’swarningseriously.

Tosurvive,we’dhavetodosomethingcrazy—somethingsosuicidalMenshikovwouldneverexpectit.Wehadtogethelpimmediately.

“ShouldI?”Sadieasked.

“Doit,”Iagreed.Thetjesuherubareditsdrippingfangs.Youwouldn’tthinkacreaturewithnobackendcouldmove

sofast,butitbentbothheadstowarduslikeagianthorseshoeandcharged.Ipulledmysword.Sadiewasfaster.ShepointedherstaffatSet’smalachitejarandyelledherfavoritecommandword:“Ha-di!”Iwasafraiditwouldn’twork.Shehadn’ttriedthedestructionspellsincesheseparatedherselffrom

Isis.Butjustbeforethemonsterreachedme,thegreenjarshattered.Menshikovscreamed,“Nyet!”Asandstormexploded through the room.HotwindspushedSadieandmeagainst the fireplace.A

wallofredsandslammedintothetjesuheruandsentitflyingsidewaysintoamalachitecolumn.VladMenshikovwasblastedrightoutofhisprotectivecircleandbangedhisheadonatable.Hecrumpledtotheground,redsandswirlingoverhimuntilhewascompletelyburied.

Whenthestormcleared,amaninaredsilksuitstoodinfrontofus.HehadskinthecolorofcherryKool-Aid, a shaved head, a dark goatee, and glittering black eyes linedwith kohl.He looked like anEgyptiandevilreadyforanightonthetown.

Hegrinnedandspreadhishandsinata-dagesture.“That’sbetter!Thankyou,SadieKane!”Toour left, the tjesuheru hissed and flailed, trying to get back on its feet. The pile of red sand

coveringVladMenshikovstartedtomove.“Dosomething,EvilDay!”Sadiecommanded.“Getridofthem!”Setwinced.“Noneedtogetpersonalwiththenames.”“Maybeyou’dpreferRockin’RedReaper?”Iasked.Setmadeapictureframewithhisfingers,asifimaginingthatnameonhisdriver’slicense.“Yes…

thatisnice,isn’tit?”Thetjesuherustaggeredtoitsfeet.Itshookbothheadsandglaredatus,butitseemedtoignoreSet,

eventhoughhewastheonewho’dslammeditagainstthewall.“Ithasbeautifulcoloration,doesn’tit?”Setasked.“Agorgeousspecimen.”“Justkillit!”Iyelled.Set lookedshocked.“Oh, Icouldn’tdo that! I’mmuch toofondofsnakes.Besides,GETMwould

havemyhide.”“Get’em?”Iasked.“GodsfortheEthicalTreatmentofMonsters.”“You’remakingthatup!”Iyelled.Setgrinned.“Still…I’mafraidyou’llhavetodealwiththetjesuheruonyourown.”Themonsterhissedatus,whichprobablymeant,Sweet!Iraisedmyswordtokeepitatbay.Thepileofredsandshifted.Menshikov’sdazedfacerosefromthetop.Setsnappedhisfingers,and

alargeceramicpotappearedintheair,shatteringonthemagician’shead.Menshikovslippedbackintothesand.

“I’llstayhereandentertainVladimir,”Setsaid.“Can’tyouexecratehim,orsomething?”Sadiedemanded.“Oh,Iwish!Unfortunately,I’mratherlimitedwhensomeoneholdsmysecretname,especiallywhen

they’vegivenmespecificordersnottokillthem.”HestaredaccusinglyatSadie.“Atanyrate,Imaybeabletobuyyouafewminutes,butVladisgoingtobequitemadwhenhecomesaround,soI’dhurry,ifIwereyou.Goodlucksurviving!Andgoodluckeatingthem,tjesuheru!”

IwantedtostrangleSet,butwehadbiggerproblems.AsifencouragedbySet’speptalk,thetjesuherulungedatus.SadieandIsprintedforthenearestdoor.

WeranthroughtheWinterPalacewithSet’slaughterechoingbehindus.

SADIE

11.CarterDoesSomethingIncrediblyStupid(andNoOneIsSurprised)

IUNDERSTAND,CARTER.Ido.Haveme narrate themost painful part. Of course, I can’t blame you.What happenedwas awful

enoughforme,butforyou—well,Iwouldn’twanttotalkaboutiteither.TherewewereintheWinterPalace,racingdownpolishedmarblehallwaysthatwerenotdesigned

for running. Behind us, the two-headed tjesu heru skidded and slammed intowalls as it tried to turncorners,muchlikeMuffinusedtodowheneverGranmoppedthefloor.That’stheonlyreasonthemonsterdidn’tcatchusimmediately.

Sincewe’dteleportedintotheMalachiteRoom,Ihadnoideawherethenearestexitwas.Iwasn’tevensureifwewereactuallyintheWinterPalace,orifMenshikov’sofficewassomecleverfacsimilethat existed only in theDuat. Iwas beginning to thinkwe’d never get outwhenwe rounded a corner,scrambleddownastaircase,andspottedasetofglass-and-irondoorsleadingouttoPalaceSquare.

Thetjesuheruwasrightbehindus.Itslippedandrolleddownthestaircase,demolishingaplasterstatueofsomeunfortunatetsar.

WeweretenmetersfromtheexitwhenIsawthechainsacrossthedoors.“Carter,”Igasped,wavinghelplesslyatthepadlock.IhatetoadmitjusthowweakIfelt.Ididn’thavethestrengthforanotherspell.CrackingSet’svase

intheMalachiteRoomhadbeenmylasthurrah,whichisagoodexampleofwhyyoushouldn’tusemagictosolveallyourproblems.SummoningaDivineWordtobreakthevasehadtakensomuchenergy,IfeltasifI’dbeendiggingholesinthehotsun.Itwould’vebeenmucheasierjusttothrowarock.IfIlivedthroughthenight,Idecidedtoaddsomerockstomytoolbag.

WewerethreemetersawaywhenCarterthrusthisfisttowardthedoors.TheEyeofHorusburnedagainst thepadlock,andthedoorsburstopenasif they’dbeenhitbygiantfist.Ihadn’tseenCarterdoanything like that since our fight at theRed Pyramid, but I didn’t have time to be amazed.We boltedoutsideintothewintrynight,thetjesuheruroaringbehindus.

You’llthinkIwasmad,butmyfirstthoughtwas:Thatwastooeasy.Despite the monster chasing us and the business with Set (whom I would strangle at the first

opportunity—thatbackstabbinggit!), I couldn’thelp feelingwe’dbreachedMenshikov’s inner sanctumandsnatchedthescrollwithoutnearlyenoughtrouble.Wherewerethetraps?Thealarms?Theexploding-donkeycurses?Iwascertainwe’dstolentheauthenticscroll.

I’dfeltthesametingleinmyfingersaswhenI’dtakentheonefromtheBrooklynMuseum(withoutthefire,thankfully).Sowhyhadn’tthescrollbeenbetterprotected?

Iwas so tired, I fell a few steps behindCarter,which probably savedmy life. I felt a crawlingsensation acrossmy scalp. I sensed darkness aboveme—a feeling that remindedme toomuch of theshadowofNekhbet’swings. I lookedupandsawthe tjesuheru sailingoverourheads likeamassivebullfrog,timingitspouncesoitwouldland—

“Carter,stop!”Iyelled.Easiersaidthandoneonicypavement.Iskiddedtoahalt,butCarterwasgoingtoofast.Hefellon

hisbumandslid,hisswordskitteringtooneside.

Thetjesuherulandedrightontopofhim.Ifithadn’tbeenU-shaped,Carterwould’vebeencrushed;butitcurvedaroundhimlikeanenormouspairofheadphones,oneheadglaringdownathimfromeitherside.

Howcouldsomethingsolargehaveleapedsofar?Toolate,Irealizedweshouldhavestayedinsidewhereitwasharderforthemonstertomove.Outhere,wehadnochanceofoutrunningit.

“Carter,”Isaid.“Stayperfectlystill.”Hefrozeincrab-walkposition.Themonster’stwoheadsdrippedvenomthathissedandsteamedon

theicystones.“Oi!”Iyelled.Nothavinganyrocks,Ipickedupachunkofbrokeniceandthrewitatthetjesuheru.

Naturally,IhitCarterinthebackinstead.Nevertheless,Igotthetjesuheru’sattention.Bothheadsturnedtowardme,twintonguesflickering.Firststepdone:distractthemonster.Secondstep:findsomecleverwaytodrawitawayfromCarter.Thatpartwasgivingmeabitmore

trouble.I’dusedmyonlypotion.Mostofmymagicsuppliesweregone.Mystaffandwandwouldn’tdome

muchgoodwithmymagicalreservesdrained.TheknifefromAnubis?SomehowIdoubtedthiswastherightsituationtoopensomeone’smouth.

TheamuletfromWalt?Ihadnottheslightestideahowtouseit.Forthemillionthtime,IregrettedhavinggivenupthespiritofIsis.Icouldreallyhaveusedthefull

magicarsenalofagoddess.But,ofcourse,thatwasexactlywhyI’dhadtoseparatefromher.Thatsortofpowerisintoxicating,dangerouslyaddictive.Itcanquicklydestroyyourlife.

ButwhatifIcouldformalimitedbond?IntheMalachiteRoom,I’dmanagedtheha-dispellforthefirsttimeinmonths.Andwhileithadbeendifficult,ithadn’tbeenimpossible.

Right,Isis,Ithought.Here’swhatIneed—Don’tthink,Sadie,hervoicewhisperedbackalmostimmediately,whichwasquiteashock.Divine

magichastobeinvoluntary,likebreathing.Youmean…Istoppedmyself.Don’tthink.Well,thatshouldn’tbetoohard.Iheldupmystaff,anda

goldenhieroglyphblazedintheair.Aone-meter-talltyetlitupthecourtyardlikeaChristmas-treestar.Thetjesuherusnarled,itsyelloweyesfixedonthehieroglyph.“Don’tlikethat,eh?”Icalled.“SymbolofIsis,youbiguglymutt.Now,getawayfrommybrother!”Itwasacompletebluff,ofcourse.Idoubtedtheglowingsigncoulddoanythinguseful.ButIhoped

thesnakecreaturewasn’tsmartenoughtoknowthat.Slowly,Carteredgedbackward.Helookedforhissword,butitwastenmetersaway—muchtoofar

toreach.Ikeptmyeyesonthemonster.Iusedthebuttofmystafftotraceamagiccircleinthesnowaround

me.Itwouldn’tprovidemuchprotection,butitwasbetterthannothing.“Carter,”Icalled,“WhenIsaygo,runbackhere.”“Thatthing’stoofast!”hesaid.“I’lltrytodetonatethehieroglyphandblindit.”Istillmaintainthattheplanwould’veworked,butIdidn’tgetthechancetotryit.Somewhereoffto

myleft,bootscrunchedonice.Themonsterturnedtowardthesound.A young man ran into the light of the hieroglyph. He was dressed in a heavy wool coat and a

policeman’shat,witharifleinhishands,buthecouldn’thavebeenmucholderthanme.Hewasfairlydrowning in his uniform.Whenhe saw themonster, his eyeswidened.He stumbledbackward, almostdroppinghisweapon.

HeyelledsomethingatmeinRussian,probably,“Whyisthereatwo-headedsnakemonsterwithnobum?”

Themonsterhissedatbothofus—whichitcoulddo,havingtwoheads.

“That’samonster,”Itoldtheguard.Iwasfairlysurehecouldn’tunderstand,butItriedtokeepmytonesteady.“Staycalmanddon’tshoot.I’mtryingtosavemybrother.”

Theguardswallowed.Hislargeearsweretheonlythingsholdinguphishat.HeglancedfromthemonstertoCartertothetyetglowingabovemyhead.ThenhedidsomethingIwasn’texpecting.

HesaidawordinAncientEgyptian:“Heqat”—thecommandIalwaysusedtosummonmystaff.Hisriflechangedtoatwo-meteroakenrodwiththecarvedheadofafalcon.

Wonderful,Ithought.Thesecurityguardsaresecretlymagicians.HeaddressedmeinRussian—somesortofwarning.IrecognizedthenameMenshikov.“Letmeguess,”Isaid.“Youwanttotakemetoyourleader.”Thetjesuherusnappeditsjaws.Itwasrapidlylosingitsfearofmyglowingtyet.Carterwasn’tfar

enoughawaytomakearunforit.“Look,”Itoldtheguard,“yourbossMenshikovisatraitor.Hesummonedthisthingtokillussowe

wouldn’t blab about his plans to freeApophis.Savvy thewordApophis?Bad snake.Very bad snake!Now,eitherhelpmekillthismonsterorstayoutofmyway!”

Themagician-guardhesitated.Hepointedatmenervously.“Kane.”Itwasn’taquestion.“Yes,”Iagreed.“Kane.”Hisexpressionwasajumbleofemotions—fear,disbelief,possiblyevenawe.Ididn’tknowwhat

he’dheardaboutus,butbeforehecoulddecidewhethertohelpusorfightus,thesituationspunoutofcontrol.

The tjesu heru charged. My ridiculous brother—instead of rolling out of the way—tackled themonster.

Helockedhisarmsaroundthecreature’srightneckandtriedtoclimbitsback,but the tjesuherusimplyturneditsotherheadtostrike.

Whatwasmybrotherthinking?Perhapshethoughthecouldridethebeast.Perhapshewastryingtobuymeafewsecondstocastaspell.Ifyouaskhimaboutitnow,he’llclaimhedoesn’tremembertheincidentatall.Butifyouaskme,thethickheadedfoolwastryingtosaveme,evenifitmeantsacrificinghimself.Thenerve!

[Oh,yes,nowyoutrytoexplainyourself,Carter.Ithoughtyoudidn’trememberthisbit!Justbequietandletmetellthestory.]

AsIwassaying,thetjesuherustruckatCarter,andeverythingseemedtoslowdown.Irememberscreaming, lowering my staff at the monster. The soldier-magician yelled something in Russian. ThecreaturesankitsfangsintoCarter’sleftshoulder,andhedroppedtotheground.

I forgot about mymakeshift circle. I ran toward him, andmy staff glowed. I don’t know how Imanagedthepower.AsIsissaid,Ididn’tthink.Isimplychanneledallmyrageandshockintomystaff.

SeeingCarterhurtwasthefinalinsult.Mygrandparentshadbeenpossessed.Myfriendshadbeenattacked,andmybirthdayruined.Butmybrotherwasoff-limits.Noonewasallowedtohurtmybrother.

Iunleashedabeamofgoldenlightthathitthemonsterwiththeforceofasandblaster.Thetjesuherucrumbledtobits,untiltherewasnothingleftbutastreakofsandsteaminginthesnowandafewsplintersofMenshikov’sshatteredstaff.

IrantoCarter’sside.Hewasshivering,hiseyesrolledbackinhishead.Twopuncturewoundsinhiscoatweresmoking.

“Kane,”theyoungRussiansaidwithatoneofawe.I snatchedupa splinterofwoodandheld it forhim tosee.“YourbossMenshikovdid this.He’s

workingforApophis.Menshikov:Apophis.Now,GETOUT!”Themagicianmaynothaveunderstoodmywords,buthegotthemessage.Heturnedandran.IcradledCarter’shead.Icouldn’tcarryhimbymyself,butIhadtogethimoutofhere.Wewerein

enemyterritory.IneededtofindBes.

Istruggledtogethimtohisfeet.ThensomeonetookCarter’sotherarmandhelpedusup.IfoundSetgrinningatme,still inhis ridiculous reddiscosuit,dustedwithmalachite rubble.Menshikov’sbrokenwhitesunglasseswereproppedonhishead.

“You,”Isaid,toofilledwithloathingtoissueaproperdeaththreat.“Me,”Setagreedcheerily.“Let’sgetyourbrotheroutofhere,shallwe?Vladimirisnotinagood

mood.”

TheNevskyProspektwould’vebeenalovelyplacetoshopifithadn’tbeentheweehoursofthemorningduringasnowstorm,and if Ihadn’tbeencarryingmypoisoned,comatosebrother.Thestreethadwidepavements,perfectforstrolling,linedwithadazzlingassortmentofhigh-endboutiques,cafés,churches,andmansions.Withall thesigns inRussian, Ididn’tseehowIwasgoing to find thechocolateshop. Icouldn’tspotBes’sblackMercedesanywhere.

Set volunteered to carryCarter, but Iwasn’t about to let the godof chaos take full charge ofmybrother, so we dragged him between us. Set chatted amiably about tjesu heru poison: “Completelyincurable!Fatal in about twelvehours. It’s amazing stuff!”Andhis tusslewithMenshikov: “Sixvasesbroken over his head, and he still survives! I envy his thick skull.” Andmy prospects of living longenough to findBes:“Oh,you’re toast,mydear!Adozenseniormagicianswere rallying toMenshikovwhen I made my, er, strategic retreat. They’ll be after you shortly. I could’ve destroyed them all, ofcourse,butIcouldn’triskVladimirusingmysecretnameagain.Maybehe’llgetamnesiaandforget it.Thenifyoudie—thatwouldbebothproblemssolved.Oh,I’msorry,Isupposethatsoundedinsensitive.Comealong!”

Carter’sheadlolled.HisbreathingsoundedalmostasbadasVladtheInhaler’s.Now,pleasedon’tthinkIwasdense.OfcourseIrememberedthewaxmini-CarterfigurineJazhad

givenme.Irecognizedthatthiswasjustthesortofemergencywhereitmightcomeinhandy.HowJazhadpredicted Carter would need healing, I had no idea. But it was possible the figurine could draw thepoisonoutofhim,despitewhatSetsaidabout itbeingincurable.Whatdoesagodofevilknowabouthealing,anyway?

Therewereproblems,however.First,Iknewverylittleabouthealingmagic.Ineededtimetofigureout thepropercasting,andsinceIhadonlyonewaxstatue,Icouldn’taffordtoget itwrong.Second,Icouldn’tverywelldothatwhilebeingchasedbyMenshikovandhissquadofmagicalRussiangoons,nordidIwanttoletmyguarddownwithSetanywherenearme.Ididn’tknowwhyhe’ddecidedtobehelpfulallofasudden,butthesoonerIcouldlosehim,thebetter.IneededtofindBesandretreattosomewheresafe—iftherewassuchaplace.

Setkeptchattingaboutalltheexcitingwaysthemagiciansmightkillmeoncetheycaughtup.FinallyIspottedabridgeupaheadoverafrozencanal.ParkedinthemiddlewastheblackMercedes.Besleanedagainstthehood,eatingpiecesoffachocolatechessboard.Nexttohimsatalargeplasticbag—hopefullywithmorechocolateforme.

Iyelledtohim,buthewassoengrossedineatingchocolate(whichIsupposeIcouldunderstand)thathedidn’tnoticeusuntilwewereafewmetersaway.ThenhelookedupandsawSet.

Istartedtosay,“Bes,don’t—”Toolate.Likeaskunk,thedwarfgodactivatedhisdefaultdefense.Hiseyesbulgedout.Hismouth

openedimpossiblywide.Heyelled“BOO!”soloudly,myhairparted,andiciclesraineddownfromthebridge’sstreetlamps.

Setdidn’tlooktheleastbitfazed.“Hello,Bes,”hesaid.“Really,you’renotsoscarywithchocolatesmearedonyourface.”Besglaredatme.“What’shedoinghere?”“Notmyidea!”Ipromised.IgavehimtheabbreviatedstoryofourencounterwithMenshikov.

“AndsoCarter’sbeenhurt,”Isummedup,whichseemedratherobvious.“Wehavetogethimoutofhere.”

“But first,” Set interrupted, pointing at the Chocolate Museum bag next to Bes, “I can’t standsurprises.What’sinthere?Agiftforme?”

Besfrowned.“Sadiewantedasouvenir.IbroughtherLenin’shead.”Setslappedhisthighwithdelight.“Bes,howevil!There’shopeforyouyet.”“Nothisrealhead,”Bessaid.“It’schocolate.”“Oh…shame.CanIhavepartofyourchessboard,then?Isimplyloveeatingpawns.”“Getoutofhere,Set!”Bessaid.“Well,Icoulddothat,butsinceourfriendsareontheirway,I thoughtperhapsweshouldmakea

deal.”Set snapped his fingers, and a globe of red light appeared in front of him. In it, the holographic

imagesofsixmeninsecurityuniformspiledintotwowhitesportscars.Theirheadlightsblazedtolife.Thecarsswervedacrossaparking lot, thenpassedstraight throughastonewallas if itweremadeofsmoke.

“I’d say you have about twominutes.” Set smiled, and the globe of light faded. “You rememberMenshikov’sminions,Bes.Areyousureyouwanttomeetthemagain?”

Thedwarfgod’sfacedarkened.Hecrushedawhitechocolatechesspieceinhishand.“Youlying,scheming,murdering—”

“Stop!”Isaid.Cartergroanedinhispoisoneddaze.Eitherhewasgettingheavier,orIwasgettingtiredofholding

himup.“Wedon’thavetimetoargue,”Isaid.“Set,areyouofferingtostopthemagicians?”He laughed. “No, no. I’m still hoping they’ll kill you, you see. But Iwas going to offer you the

locationofthelastscrollintheBookofRa.Thatiswhatyou’reafter,isn’tit?”Iassumedhewaslying.Heusuallywas—butifhewasserious…IlookedatBes.“Isitpossibleheknowsthelocation?”Besgrunted.“Morethanpossible.ThepriestsofRagavehimthescrollforsafekeeping.”“Whyonearthwouldtheydothat?”Settriedtolookmodest.“Comenow,Sadie.IwasaloyallieutenantofRa.IfyouwereRa,andyou

didn’twant tobebotheredbyanyoldmagician trying towakeyou,wouldn’tyou trust thekey toyourlocationwithyourmostfearsomeservant?”

Hehadapoint.“Where’sthescroll,then?”“Notsofast.I’llgiveyouthelocationifyougivemebackmysecretname.”“Notlikely!”“It’squitesimple.Justsay‘Igiveyoubackyourname.’You’llforgettheproperwaytosayit—”“AndthenI’llhavenopoweroveryou!You’llkillme!”“You’dhavemywordthatIwon’t.”“Right.That’sworthalot.WhatifIusedyoursecretnametoforceyoutotellme?”Set shrugged. “With a few days to research the correct spell, you might manage that.

Unfortunately…”Hecuppedhiseartohishand.Inthedistance,tiressquealed—twocars,travelingfast,gettingcloser.“Youdon’thaveafewdays.”

BescursedinEgyptian.“Don’tdoit,girl.Hecan’tbetrusted.”“Canwefindthescrollwithouthim?”“Well…maybe.Probablynot.No.”TheheadlightsoftwocarsswervedontotheNevskyProspekt,roughlyhalfamileaway.Wewere

outoftime.IhadtogetCarterawayfromhere,butifSetreallywasouronlywayoffindingthescroll,I

couldn’tjustlethimgo.“Allright,Set.ButI’llgiveyouonelastorder.”Bessighed.“Ican’tbeartowatchthis.Givemeyourbrother.I’llputhiminthecar.”ThedwarftookCarterandstuffedhimintothebackseatoftheMercedes.IkeptmyeyesonSet,tryingtothinkoftheleastterriblewaytomakethisdeal.Icouldn’tsimplytell

him toneverhurtmy family.Amagical pact needed to be carefullyworded,with clear limits and anexpirationdate,orthewholespellwouldunravel.“EvilDay,youarenottoharmtheKanefamily.You’llmaintainatrucewithusatleastuntil—untilRahasbeenawakened.”

“Oruntilyoutryandfailtoawakenhim?”Setaskedinnocently.“Ifthathappens,”Isaid,“theworldisgoingtoend.Sowhynot?Iwilldowhatyouaskconcerning

yourname.Inexchange,youwilltellmethelocationofthelastpartoftheBookofRa,withouttrickeryordeception.Thenyou’lldepartfortheDuat.”

Set considered the offer.The twowhite sports carswere only a fewblocks awaynow.Bes shutCarter’sdoorandranbackover.

“Wehaveadeal,”Setagreed.“You’llfindthescrollatBahariya.BesknowstheplaceImean.”Besdidn’tlookhappy.“Thatplaceisheavilyprotected.We’llhavetousetheAlexandriaportal.”“Yes.”Setgrinned.“Shouldbeinteresting!Howlongcanyouholdyourbreath,SadieKane?”“Whatdoyoumean?”“Nevermind,nevermind.Now,Ibelieveyouowemeasecretname.”“Igiveyoubackyourname,”Isaid.Justlikethat,Ifeltthemagicleaveme.IstillknewSet’sname:

EvilDay.ButsomehowIcouldn’trememberexactlyhowIusedtosayit,orhowitworkedinaspell.Thememoryhadbeenerased.

Tomy surprise, Set didn’t killme on the spot. He just smiled and tossedmeVladMenshikov’ssunglasses.“Ihopeyoulive,afterall,SadieKane.You’requiteamusing.Butiftheydokillyou,atleastenjoytheexperience!”

“Gosh,thanks.”“AndjustbecauseIlikeyousomuch,Ihaveafreepieceofinformationforyourbrother.Tellhim

ZiaRashid’svillagewascalledal-HamrahMakan.”“Whyisthat—”“Happy travels!”Setdisappeared inacloudofblood-coloredmist.Ablockaway, the twowhite

sportscarsbarreledtowardus.Amagicianstuckhisheadoutthesunroofoftheleadcarandpointedhisstaffinourdirection.

“Timetoleave,”Bessaid.“Getin!”

IwillsaythisforBes:hedrovelikeamaniac.AndImeanthatinthebestpossibleway.Icystreetsdidn’tbother him at all.Neither did traffic signals, pedestrian pavements, or canals,which he twice jumpedwithoutbotheringtofindabridge.Fortunately,thecitywasmostlyemptythattimeofmorning,orI’msurewewouldhavemoweddownanynumberofRussians.

WewovethroughcentralSt.Petersburgwhilethetwowhitesportscarsclosedbehindus.ItriedtoholdCartersteadynexttomeinthebackseat.Hiseyeswerehalf-open,hiscorneasthemostawfulshadeofgreen.Despitethecold,hewasburningwithfever.Imanagedtotugoffhiswintercoatandfoundhisshirtsoakedwithsweat.Onhisshoulder,thepuncturewoundswereoozinglike…Well,it’sprobablybestIdon’tdescribethatpart.

Iglancedbehindus.Themagicianinthesunroofaimedhisstaff—notaneasytaskinahigh-speedcarchase—andaglowingwhitejavelinshotfromthetip,hurtlingtowarduslikeahomingmissile.

“Duck!”Iyelled,andpushedCarteragainsttheseat.Thejavelinbroketherearwindowandflewstraightthroughthewindshield.IfBeshadbeennormal

height,hewouldhavegottenafreeheadpiercing.Asitwas,theprojectilemissedhimcompletely.“I’madwarf,”hegrumbled.“Idon’tduck!”He swerved to the right. Behind us, a storefront exploded. Looking back, I saw the entire wall

dissolveintoapileoflivingsnakes.Ourpursuerswerestillclosing.“Bes,getusoutofhere!”Iyelled.“I’mtrying,kid.EgyptianBridgeiscomingup.Itwasoriginallybuiltintheeighteenhundreds,but

—”“Idon’tcare!Justdrive!”Truly, it’s amazinghowmanyEgyptianbits andbobs there are inSt.Petersburg, andhow little I

caredaboutthem.Beingchasedbyevilmagiciansthrowingjavelinsandsnakebombsdoestendtoclarifyone’spriorities.

Sufficeittosay:Yes,therereallyisanEgyptianBridgeovertheFontankaRiver,leadingsouthoutofcentralSt.Petersburg.Why?Noidea.Don’tcare.Asweracedtowardit,Isawblackstonesphinxesoneitherside—ladysphinxeswithgildedpharaohcrowns—buttheonlythingthatmatteredtomewasthattheycouldsummonaportal.

BesbarkedsomethinginEgyptian.Atthetopofthebridge,bluelightflashed.Aswirlingsandvortexappeared.

“WhatdidSetmean,”Iasked,“aboutholdingmybreath?”“Hopefullywon’tbeforlong,”Bessaid.“We’llonlybethirtyfeetunder.”“Thirtyfeetunderwater?”BANG!TheMercedescareenedsideways.OnlylaterdidIrealizeanotherjavelinmusthavehitour

backtire.Wespunacrosstheiceandflipped,slidingupside-downintothevortex.Myheadslammedagainstsomething.Iopenedmyeyes,fightingforconsciousness,buteitherIwas

blindorwewereincompletedarkness.Iheardwatertricklingthroughthejavelin-shatteredglass,andtheroofoftheMercedescrumplinglikeanaluminumcan.

Ihadtimetothink:Ateenagerforlessthanaday,andI’mgoingtodrown.ThenIblackedout.

SADIE

12.IMastertheFineArtofName-Calling

IT’SDISTURBINGTOWAKEUPasachicken.Mybafloatedthroughdarkwater.MyglowingwingsflappedasItriedtofigureoutwhichwaywas

up.Iassumedmybodywassomewherecloseby,possiblyalreadydrownedinthebackoftheMercedes,butIcouldn’tfigureouthowtoreturntoit.

WhyonearthhadBesdrivenus throughanunderwaterportal?IhopedpoorCarterhadsomehowsurvived;perhapsBeswasabletopullhimfree.Butdyingfrompoisonratherthandrowningdidn’tseemmuchofanimprovement.

Acurrentcaughtmeandwhiskedme into theDuat.Thewaterchanged intocold fog.Wailingandgrowling filled the darkness. My acceleration slowed, and when the mist dissipated, I was back inBrooklynHouse,floatingjustoutsidetheinfirmarydoor.Onabenchagainstthewall,sittingtogetherlikeoldfriends,wereAnubisandWaltStone.Theylookedliketheywerewaitingforbadnews.Walt’shandswerefoldedinhislap.Hisshouldersslumped.He’dchangedclothes—anewsleevelesstee,anewpairofrunningshorts—buthelookedlikehehadn’tsleptsincereturningfromLondon.

Anubis talked to him in soothing tones, as if trying to ease his grief. I’d never seen Anubis intraditionalEgyptianclothesbefore:bare-chestedwithagoldandrubycollararoundhisneck,asimpleblackkiltwrappedaroundhiswaist.Itwasn’talookI’drecommendformostguys,butAnubispulleditoff.I’dalwaysimaginedhewouldlookratherskinnywithhisshirtoff(notthatIimaginedthatalot,mindyou)buthewasinexcellentshape.Theymust’vehadquiteagoodgymintheunderworld,bench-pressingtombstonesandwhatnot.

At any rate, after the shock of seeing them together, my first thought was that something terriblemust’vehappenedtoJaz.

“Whatisit?”Iasked,notsureiftheycouldhearme.“What’shappened?”Waltdidn’treact,butAnubislookedup.Asusualmyheartdidalittlehappydancequitewithoutmy

permission.Hiseyesweresomesmerizing,Icompletelyforgothowtousemybrain.Isaid,“Um.”Iknow,Lizwould’vebeenproud.“Sadie,”Anubissaid.“Youshouldn’tbehere.Carterisdying.”That jarredme back tomy senses. “I know that, jackal boy! I didn’task to be—Wait,whyam I

here?”Anubispointedatthedooroftheinfirmary.“IsuspectJaz’sspiritcalledtoyou.”“Isshedead?AmIdead?”“Neither,”Anubissaid.“Butyouarebothondeath’sdoorstep,whichmeansyoursoulscanspeakto

eachotherquiteeasily.Justdon’tstaylong.”Walt stillhadn’t acknowledgedme.Hemuttered: “Couldn’t tellher.Whycouldn’t I tellher?”He

openedhishands.Cradledinhispalmswasagoldenshenamuletexactlyliketheonehe’dgivenme.“Anubis,what’swrongwithhim?”Iasked.“Can’thehearme?”AnubisputhishandonWalt’sshoulder.“Hecan’tseeeitherofus, thoughI thinkhecansensemy

presence.Hecalledtomeforguidance.That’swhyI’mhere.”“Guidancefromyou?Why?”IsupposeitsoundedharsherthanIintended,butofallthegodsWaltmight’vecalled,Anubisseemed

theleastlikelychoice.Anubislookedupatme,hiseyesevenmoremelancholythanusual.“Youshouldpassonnow,Sadie,”hesaid.“Youhaveverylittletime.IpromiseI’lldomybestto

easeWalt’spain.”“Hispain?”Iasked.“Hangon—”Buttheinfirmarydoorswungopen,andthecurrentsoftheDuatpulledmeinside.

The infirmary was the nicest medical facility I’d ever been in, but that wasn’t saying much. I hatedhospitals.Myfatherusedto jokethatIwasbornscreaminganddidn’tstopuntil theygotmeoutof thematernityward. Iwasmortally afraid of needles, pills, and above all the smell of sick people.Deadpeopleandcemeteries?Thosedidn’tbotherme.Butsickness…well,I’msorry,butdoesithavetosmellsobloodysick?

Myfirstvisit toJazintheinfirmaryhadtakenallmycourage.Thissecondtime,eveninba form,wasn’tanyeasier.

Theroomwasaboutthesizeofmybedroom.Thewallswererough-hewnlimestone.Largewindowslet in thenighttimeglowofNewYork.Cedarcabinetswerecarefully labeledwithmedicines, firstaidsupplies,magicalcharmsandpotions. Inonecorner stooda fountainwitha life-size statueof the liongoddessSekhmet,patronofhealers.I’dheardthatthewaterpouringthroughSekhmet’shandscouldcureacoldorfluinstantly,andprovidemostofone’sdailyvitaminsandiron,butI’dneverhadthecouragetotakeadrink.

Thegurgle of the fountainwaspeaceful enough. Insteadof antiseptic, the air smelledof charmedvanilla-scentedcandlesthatfloatedaroundtheroom.Butstill,theplacemademejumpy.

I knew the candles monitored the patients’ conditions. Their flames changed color to indicateproblems.Atthemoment,theyallhoveredaroundtheonlyoccupiedbed—Jaz’s.Theirflamesweredarkorange.

Jaz’shandswere foldedonher chest.Herblondhairwascombedacrossherpillow.She smiledfaintlyasifshewerehavingapleasantdream.

AndsittingatthefootofJaz’sbedwas…Jaz,oratleastashimmeringgreenimageofmyfriend.Itwasn’taba.Theformwasfullyhuman.Iwonderedifshe’ddiedafterall,andthiswasherghost.

“Jaz…”Awaveoffreshguiltwashedoverme.EverythingthathadgonewrongthepasttwodayshadstartedwithJaz’ssacrifice,whichwasmyfault.“Areyou—”

“Dead?No,Sadie.Thisismyren.”Hertransparentbodyflickered.WhenIlookedmoreclosely,Isawitwascomposedofimages,like

a3-DvideoofJaz’slife.ToddlerJazsatinahighchair,paintingherfacewithbabyfood.Twelve-year-oldJazcartwheeledacrossagymnasiumfloor,tryingoutforherfirstcheerleadingsquad.Present-dayJazopenedherschoollockerandfoundaglowingdjedamulet—ourmagicalcallingcardthathadledhertoBrooklyn.

“Yourren,”Isaid.“Anotherpartofyoursoul?”Theglowinggreen imagenodded.“Egyptiansbelieved therewere fivedifferentpartsof the soul.

Thebaisthepersonality.Therenis—”“Yourname,”Iremembered.“Buthowcanthatbeyourname?”“My name is my identity,” she said. “The sum of my experiences. As long as my name is

remembered,Istillexist,evenifIdie.Doyouunderstand?”Ididn’t,evenremotely.ButIunderstoodshemightdie,andthatitwasmyfault.“I’msosorry.”Itriednottobreakintotears.“IfIhadn’tgrabbedthatstupidscroll—”“Sadie,don’tbesorry.I’mgladyou’vecome.”“But—”

“Everythinghappensforareason,Sadie,evenbadthings.”“That’snottrue!”Isaid.“It’sbloodyunfair!”HowcouldJazbesocalmandnice,evenwhenshewasinacoma?Ididn’twanttohearthatbad

thingshappenedaspartofsomegrandplan.Ihatedwhenpeoplesaidthat.I’dlostmymother.I’dlostmydad.Mylifehadbeenturnedupsidedown,andI’dalmostdiedcountlesstimes.Now,asfarasIknew,Iwasdeadordying.Mybrotherwaspoisonedanddrowning,andIcouldn’thelphim.

“Noreasonisworthallthis,”Isaid.“Lifeisrandom.It’sharsh.It’s—it’s—”Jazwasstillsmiling,lookingabitamused.“Oh,”Isaid.“Youwantedtomakememad,didn’tyou?”“That’stheSadiewealllove.Griefreallyisn’tproductive.Youdobetterwhenyou’reangry.”“Humph.”Isupposedshewasright,butIdidn’thavetolikeit.“Sowhydidyoubringmehere?”“Twothings,”shesaid.“First,you’renotdead.Whenyouwakeup,you’llonlyhaveafewminutes

tohealCarter.You’llhavetoactquickly.”“Using the wax statue,” I said. “Yes, I figured that out. But I don’t know how. I’m no good at

healing.”“Thereisonlyonemoreingredientthatmatters.Youknowwhatitis.”“ButIdon’t!”Jaz raised an eyebrow like I was just being stubborn. “You’re so close to understanding, Sadie.

ThinkaboutIsis.ThinkabouthowyouchanneledherpowerinSt.Petersburg.Theanswerwillcometoyou.”

“But—”“Wemusthurry.Thesecondthing:you’regoingtoneedWalt’shelp.Iknowit’srisky.IknowBes

warnedagainstit.ButusetheamulettocallWaltbacktoyou.It’swhathewants.Somerisksareworthtaking,evenifitmeanslosingalife.”“Losingwhoselife?His?”Theinfirmaryscenebegantodissolve,turningintoablurrywatercolor.“ThinkaboutIsis,”Jazrepeated.“AndSadie…thereisapurpose.Youtaughtusthat.Wechooseto

believeinMa’at.Wecreateorderoutofchaos,beautyandmeaningoutofuglyrandomness.That’swhatEgypt is all about. That’s why its name, its ren,has endured formillennia. Don’t despair. OtherwiseChaoswins.”

Irememberedsayingsomethinglikethatinoneofourclasses,buteventhen,Ihadn’tbelievedit.“I’llletyouinonasecret,”Isaid.“I’marubbishteacher.”Jaz’s form, all her collectedmemories, slowlymelted intomist. “I’ll letyou in on a secret,” she

said,hervoicefading.“Youwereanexcellentteacher.Now,visitIsis,andseehowitbegan.”Theinfirmaryevaporated.SuddenlyIwasonaroyalbarge,floatingdowntheNile.Thesunblazed

overhead.Lushgreenmarshgrassandpalmtreeslinedtheriverbanks.Beyondthatthedesertspreadtothehorizon—barrenredhillssodryandforbidding,theymightaswellhavebeenonMars.

The boat was like the one Carter had described from his vision with Horus, though in bettercondition.Itscrispwhitesailwasemblazonedwiththeimageofthesundisk,glitteringinredandgold.Orbsofmulticoloredlightzippedaroundthedeck,manningtheoarsandpullingthelines.Howtheydidthiswithouthands,Idon’tknow,butitwasn’tthefirsttimeI’dseensuchamagicalcrew.

Thehullwasinlaidwithpreciousmetals—copper,silver,andgolddesignsshowingpicturesoftheboat’sjourneythroughtheDuat,andhieroglyphsinvokingthepowerofthesun.

Inthemiddleoftheboat,ablue-and-goldcanopyshadedthesungod’sthrone,whichwaswithoutadoubtthemostimpressiveanduncomfortablelookingchairI’deverseen.AtfirstIthoughtitwasmoltengold.ThenIrealizeditwasfashionedoutoflivingfire—yellowflamesthathadsomehowbeensculptedintotheshapeofathrone.Etchedintoitslegsandarmrests,white-hothieroglyphsglowedsobrightlythey

searedmyeyes.Thethrone’soccupantwasn’tquitesoimpressive.Rawasanoldleatherymanbentoverintheshape

ofaquestionmark,hisbaldscalpcrateredwithliverspotsandhisfacesosaggyandwrinkleditlookedlikeamask.Onlyhiskohl-linedeyesgaveanyindicationhewasalive,becausetheywerefullofpainandweariness.Heworeakiltandcollar,whichdidnotsuithimnearlyaswellasithadAnubis.Untilnow,themostancientpersonI’deverseenwasIskandar, theformerChiefLector,who’dbeentwothousandyears old. But Iskandar had never looked this bad, evenwhen hewas about to die. Tomakemattersworse,Ra’sleftlegwaswrappedinbandagesandswollentotwiceitspropersize.

He groaned and propped his leg on a pile of cushions. Two puncturewounds oozed through thebandagesonhisshin—verymuchlikethefangmarksonCarter’sshoulder.AsRakneadedhisleg,greenvenomspreaduptheveinsofhisthigh.Justlookingatitmademybafeathersshiverwithrevulsion.

Ralookedtotheheavens.Hiseyesturnedmoltenyellowlikehisthrone.“Isis!”hecried.“Verywell!Irelent!”Ashadowrippledunder thecanopy.Awomanappeared,andkneltbefore the throne.I recognized

her,ofcourse.Shehadlong,darkhaircutCleopatra-styleandawhitegossamerdressthatcomplementedhergracefulfigure.Herluminousrainbowwingsshimmeredlikethenorthernlights.

Withherheadbowedandherpalmsraisedinsupplication,shelookedlikethepictureofhumility;butIknewIsistoowell.Icouldseethesmileshewastryingtohide.Icouldsenseherelation.

“LordRa,”shesaid.“Ilivetoserveyou.”“Ha!”Rasaid.“Youliveforpower,Isis.Don’ttrytodeceiveme.Iknowyoucreatedthesnakethat

bitme!That’swhynooneelsecanfindacure.Youdesiremythroneforyourhusband,theupstartOsiris.”Isisstartedtoprotest,“Mylord—”“Enough!IfIwereayoungergod—”Ramadethemistakeofmovinghisleg.Heyelpedinpain.The

greenvenomspreadfartheruphisveins.“Nevermind.”Hesighedmiserably.“Iamwearyofthisworld.Enoughschemingandplotting.Just

curethepoison.”“Gladly,myking.ButIwillneed—”“Mysecretname,”Rasaid.“Yes,Iknow.Promisetohealme,andyouwillgetallyoudesire…and

more.”IheardthewarninginRa’svoice,buteitherIsisdidn’tnotice,orshedidn’tcare.“Isweartohealyou,”shesaid.“Thenapproach,goddess.”Isisleanedforward.IthoughtRawouldwhisperhisnameinherear,butinsteadhegraspedherhand

andplaceditagainsthiswitheredbrow.Herfingertipssmoldered.Shetriedtopullaway,butRaheldherwrist.Thesungod’sentireformglowedwithfiery imagesofhis longlife: thefirstdawn;hissunboatshining on the newly risen land ofEgypt; the creation of the other gods andmortalmen;Ra’s endlessbattleswithApophisashepassedthroughtheDuateachnight,keepingChaosatbay.Itwastoomuchtotakein—centuriespassingwitheachheartbeat.Hissecretnamewasthesumofhisexperience,andeventhen,inthoseancienttimes,Rawasunthinkablyold.ThefieryauraspreadtoIsis’shand,travelingupherarmuntilherwholebodywaswreathedinflames.Shescreamedonce.Thenthefiresdied.Isiscollapsed,smokecurlingfromherdress.

“So,”Rasaid.“Yousurvived.”Icouldn’ttellifhefeltdisappointmentorgrudgingrespect.Isis rose unsteadily to her feet. She looked shell-shocked, as if she’d just strolled through awar

zone,butsheraisedherhand.Afieryhieroglyphburnedonherpalm—Ra’ssecretname,distilledintoasingleunbelievablypowerfulword.

SheplacedherhandonRa’spoisoned legandspokeaspell.Thegreenvenomretreatedfromhis

veins.Theswellingsubsided.Thebandagesfellaway,andthetwofangmarksclosed.Rareclinedonhisthroneandsighedwithrelief.“Atlast.Nopain.”“Mylordneedsrest,”Isissuggested.“Along,longrest.”Thesungodopenedhiseyes.Therewasnofireinthemnow.Theylookedlikethemilkyeyesofa

mortaloldman.“Bast!”hecalled.Thecatgoddessmaterializedathisside.ShewasdressedinEgyptianarmorofleatherandiron,and

sheseemedyounger, thoughperhaps thatwas justbecauseshehadn’tyetenduredcenturies inaprisonabyss,fightingApophis.Iwastemptedtoshouttoherandwarnheraboutwhatwascoming,butmyvoicewouldn’twork.

Bast gave Isis sideways look. “My lord, is this…woman bothering you?” Ra shook his head.“Nothingwillbothermemuchlonger,myfaithfulcat.Comewithmenow.WehaveimportantmatterstodiscussbeforeIdepart.”

“Mylord?Whereareyougoing?”“Intoforcedretirement.”RaglaredatIsis.“Thatiswhatyouwant,goddessofmagic?”Isisbowed.“Never,mylord!”BastdrewherknivesandsteppedtowardIsis,butRaheldouthisarm.“Enough,Bast,”hesaid.“Ihaveanotherfight inmindforyou—onelast,crucialfight.Asforyou,

Isis, youmay think you havewon because youmasteredmy secret name.Do you realizewhat you’vestarted?Osirismaybecomepharaoh,buthisreignwillbeshortandbitter.Hisroyalseatwillbeapalereflectionofmythroneoffire.Thisboatwillnolongerride theDuat.ThebalancebetweenMa’atandChaoswillslowlydegrade.Egyptitselfwillfall.Thenamesofhergodswillfadetoadistantmemory.Thenoneday,theentireworldwillstandonthebrinkofdestruction.YouwillcryouttoRa,andIwillnotbethere.Whenthatdaycomes,rememberhowyourgreedandambitioncausedittohappen.”

“My lord.” Isisbowed respectfully,but Iknewshewasn’t thinkingabout somedistant future.Shewasdrunkwithhervictory.ShethoughtOsiriswouldruleEgyptforever,andthatRawasjustanoldfool.Shedidnotknowthatinashorttime,hervictorywouldturntotragedy.Osiriswouldbemurderedbyhisbrother,Set.Andsomeday,Ra’sotherpredictionswouldcometrueaswell.

“Letusgo,Bast,”Rasaid.“Wearenolongerwanted.”The throne erupted in a columnof flames, burning away the blue-and-gold canopy.Aball of fire

ascendedintotheheavensuntilitwaslostintheglareofthesun.Whenthesmokecleared,Isisstoodaloneandlaughedwithdelight.“Ididit!”sheexclaimed.“Osiris,youwillbeking!ImasteredthesecretnameofRa!”Iwantedtotellhershehadmasterednothing,butIcouldonlywatchasIsisdancedacrosstheboat.

She was so pleased with her own success, she paid no attention to the magical servant lightsdisappearing.Thelinesdropped.Thesailwentslack.Oarstrailedinthewater,andthesunboatdrifteddowntheriver,unmanned.

Myvisionfaded,andIsankintodarkness.

Iwokeinasoftbed.Forablissfulmoment,IthoughtIwasbackinmyroomatBrooklynHouse.Icouldgetupandhavealovelybreakfastwithmyfriends,Amos,PhilipofMacedonia,andKhufu,thenspendthedayteachingourinitiateshowtoturneachotherintoreptiles.Thatsoundedbrilliant.

ButofcourseIwasn’thome.Isatup,andmyheadbeganspinning.Iwasinaking-sizebedwithsoftcotton sheetsandapileof featherpillows.Thebedroomwasquiteposh,decorated indazzlingwhite,which did not helpmy dizziness. I felt as if Iwere back in the home of the sky goddessNut.At anymoment,theroommightdissolveintoclouds.

Mylegsfeltstiff,butImanagedtogetoutofbed.Iwaswearingoneofthosehotelrobessomassive

andplush, I looked likeanalbinoMuppet. Istaggered to thedoorwayandfounda lovely livingroom,also brightwhite. Sliding glass doors led to a veranda that overlooked the sea from quite a height—possiblyfifteenortwentystories.Theskyandthewaterweregorgeousblue.

Myeyestookamomenttoadjust tothelight.Onanearbytable,Carter’sandmyfewpossessionswerecarefullylaidout—ouroldrumpledclothes,ourmagicbags,andthetwoscrollsfromtheBookofRa,alongwithBes’sbagfromtheChocolateMuseum.

Carterwaswrappedinawhiterobelikemine.Helayonthecouchwithhiseyesclosed.Hiswholebodyshivered.Bessatnexttohim,dabbingCarter’sforeheadwithacoolcloth.

“How—howishe?”Imanaged.Besglancedover.HelookedlikeaminiaturetouristinaloudHawaiianshirt,khakishorts,andflip-

flops.TheuglyAmerican—sizeextra-small.“Abouttime,”hesaid.“Iwasbeginningtothinkyou’dneverwakeup.”Itookastepforward,buttheroomtiltedbackandforth.“Careful.”Besrushedoverandtookmyarm.“Yougotanastybumponthehead.”“Nevermindthat,”Imuttered.“IhavetohelpCarter.”“He’sbad,Sadie.Idon’tknowif—”“Icanhelp.Mywand,andthewaxfigurine—”“Yeah.Yeah,okay.I’llgetthem.”WithBes’sassistance,IwobbledtoCarter’sside.BesfetchedmythingswhileIcheckedCarter’s

forehead.Hisfeverwasworsethanbefore.Theveinsinhisneckhadturnedgreenfromthepoison,justlikeRa’shadinmyvision.

IfrownedatBes.“HowlongwasIout?”“It’salmostnoononTuesday.”HespreadmymagicsuppliesatCarter’sfeet.“So,roughlytwelve

hours.”“Twelvehours?Bes,that’sthemaximumtimeSetthoughtCartercouldstayalivebeforethepoison

killedhim!Whydidn’tyouwakemesooner?”HisfaceturnedasredashisHawaiianshirt.“Itried!IpulledyoubothoutoftheMediterraneanand

gotyoutothehotel,didn’tI?Iusedallthewake-upspellsIknow!YoujustkeptmutteringinyoursleepaboutWalt,Anubis,secretnames—”

“Fine!”Isaid.“Justhelpme—”Thedoorbellrang.Besgesturedformetostaycalm.Hecalledoutinanotherlanguage—possiblyArabic—andahotel

waiter opened the door.Hebowed low toBes, as if the dwarfwere a sultan, thenbrought in a roomservicecartloadedwithtropicalfruit,fresh-bakedbreads,andbottledsodas.

“Excellent,”Bestoldme.“Berightback.”“You’rewastingtime!”Isnapped.Naturally,Besignoredme.Heretrievedhisbagfromthediningtableandbroughtoutthechocolate

headofVladimirLenin.Thewaiter’seyeswidened.Besputtheheadinthemiddleofthecartandnoddedasifitmadetheperfectcenterpiece.

Bes gave thewaiter a fewmore orders inArabic, then handedhim somegold coins.Thewaitergroveledandgenerallylookedterrified.Heexitedbackward,stillbowing.

“Whereareweexactly?”Iasked.“Andwhyareyouakinghere?”“Alexandria, Egypt,” Bes said. “Sorry about the rough arrival. It’s a tricky place to teleport to.

Cleopatra’soldcapital,youknow,where theEgyptianEmpirefellapart,somagic tends toget twistedaround.Theonlyworkingportalsareintheoldcity,whichisoffthecoast,underthirtyfeetofwater.”

“Andthisplace?Obviouslyaluxuryhotel,buthowdidyou—”“Penthouse Suite, Four SeasonsAlexandria.”He sounded slightly embarrassed. “People inEgypt

stillremembertheoldgods,eveniftheywon’tadmitit.Iwaspopularbackintheday,soIcanusuallycallinfavorswhenIneedthem.SorryIdidn’thavemoretime.Icould’vegottenusaprivatevilla.”

“Howdareyou,”Isaid.“Makingussettleforafive-starhotel.Now,whydon’tyoumakesurewe’renotinterruptedwhileIhealCarter?”

IgrabbedthewaxfigurineJazhadgivenmeandkneltnexttomybrother.Thestatuewasdeformedfromgettingknocked around inmybag.Then again,Carter lookedworse forwear, too.Hopefully themagicconnectionwouldstillwork.

“Carter,”Isaid.“I’mgoingtohealyou.ButIneedyourhelp.”Iputmyhandonhisfeverishforehead.NowIknewwhyJazhadappearedtomeasaren,thepartof

thesoulthatrepresentedhername.Iknewwhyshe’dshownmethevisionofIsisandRa.You’resoclosetounderstanding,Sadie,she’dsaid.I’dneverthoughtaboutitbefore,buttherenwasthesameasone’ssecretname.Itwasmorethanjust

specialword.Thesecretnameisyourdarkest thoughts,yourmostembarrassingmoments,yourbiggestdreams,yourworstfears,allwrappedtogether.It’sthesumofyourexperiences,eventhoseyou’dneverwanttoshare.Yoursecretnamemakesyouwhoyouare.

That’swhyasecretnamehaspower.It’salsowhyyoucouldn’tsimplyhearsomeonerepeatasecretname and know how to use it. You had to know that person and understand their life. Themore youunderstoodtheperson,themorepowertheirnamecouldyield.Youcouldonlylearnasecretnamefromthepersonhimself—orfromthepersonclosesttohisheart.

Andheavenhelpme,formeCarterwasthatperson.Carter,Ithought.Whatisyoursecretname?Eveninsickness,hismindresistedme.Youdon’tjusthandoveryoursecretname.Everyhumanhad

one,justaseachgoddid;butmosthumansspenttheirwholelivesnotknowingthat,noteverputtinginwords theirmostprivate identity.Understandable, really.Try summingupyourentireexistence in fivewordsorless.Notexactlyeasy,isit?

“Youcando this,” Imurmured. “You’remybrother. I loveyou.All theembarrassingbits, all theannoyingbits,whichIimagineismostofyou—athousandZiasmightrunawayfromyouiftheyknewthetruth.ButIwon’t.I’llstillbehere.Now,tellmeyourname,youbigidiot,soIcansaveyourlife.”

Myhandtingledagainsthisforehead.Hislifepassedthroughmyfingers—ghostlymemoriesofwhenwewerechildren,livingwithourparentsinLosAngeles.IsawmybirthdaypartywhenIturnedsixandthecakeexploded.Isawourmotherreadingbedtimestoriestousfromacollegesciencetextbook;ourdadplayingjazzanddancingmearoundtheroomwhileCartercoveredhisearsandyelled,“Dad!”IsawmomentsIhadn’tsharedwithmybrother,aswell:CarterandDadcaughtinariotinParis;CarterandZiatalkingbycandlelightintheFirstNome;CarterbyhimselfinthelibraryatBrooklynHouse,staringathisEyeofHorusamuletandstrugglingagainstthetemptationtoreclaimthepowerofagod.He’dnevertoldmeaboutthat,butitmademefeelrelieved.I’dthoughtIwastheonlyonewho’dbeensotempted.

Slowly, Carter relaxed. His worst fears passed through me, his most embarrassing secrets. Hisstrengthwasfailingasthepoisongrippedhisheart.Withhislastbitofwillpower,hetoldmehisname.

[Ofcourse,Iwon’ttellyouwhatitis.Youcouldn’tuseitanyway,hearingitfromarecording,butIwon’ttakechances.]

IraisedthewaxfigurineandspokeCarter’ssecretname.Immediately,thepoisonrecededfromhisveins.Thewaxfigureturnedgreenandmeltedinmyhands.Carter’sfeverbroke.Heshuddered,tookadeepbreath,andopenedhiseyes.

“Right,”Isaidsternly.“Don’teverrideanotherbloodysnakemonsteragain!”“Sorry…”hecroaked.“Didyoujust—”“Yeah.”“Withmysecretname—”

“Yeah.”“Andallmysecrets—”“Yeah.”Hegroanedandcoveredhis faceas if hewanted to fall back into a coma;buthonestly, I hadno

intentionofteasinghim.There’sadifferencebetweenkeepingyourbrotherinhisplaceandbeingcruel.Iwasn’t cruel. Besides, after seeing into the darkest recesses of Carter’s mind, I was a bit ashamed,possiblyeveninawe.Therereallywasn’tmuchthere.Comparedtomyfearsandembarrassingsecrets—oh,dear.Hewastame.Ihopedoursituationswereneverreversedandhehadtohealme.

Bes came overwith Lenin’s head tucked in the crook of his arm.He’d obviously been having anibble,asLenin’sforeheadwasmissing—victimofafrontalchoco-lobotomy.

“Goodwork,Sadie!”HebrokeoffLenin’snoseandofferedittoCarter.“Here,boy.You’veearnedthis.”

Carterfrowned.“Doeschocolatehavemagichealingproperties?”Bessnorted.“Ifitdid,I’dbethehealthiestdwarfintheworld.Nah.Itjusttastesgood.”“Andyou’llneedyourstrength,”Iadded.“Wehavealottotalkabout.”

Despiteourloomingdeadline—asoftomorrow,onlytwomoredaysuntiltheequinoxandtheendoftheworld—Bes insisted we rest until the following morning. He warned that if Carter exerted himselfphysicallyormagicallyanysoonerafterbeingpoisoned,itmightwellkillhim.

Losing the timemademequiteagitated,butaftergoing tosomuch trouble to revivemybrother, Iratherwantedtokeephimalive.AndI’lladmitIwasn’tinmuchbettershape.Iwassodrainedmagicallymyself,Idon’tthinkIcouldhavemovedfartherthantheveranda.

Bescalledthefrontdeskandorderedapersonalshoppertobuyussomenewclothesandsuppliesintown.I’mnotsurewhattheArabicwordisforcombatboots,but theshopping ladymanaged to findanewpair.Whenshedeliveredourthings,shetriedtogivethebootstoCarter,thenlookedhorrifiedwhenBespointed atme. I also got a supplyof hair dye, a comfortable pair of jeans, a cotton top in desertcamouflage colors, and a headscarf thatwas probably all the ragewithEgyptianwomen, butwhich Idecidednottowear,asitwouldprobablyclashwiththenewpurplehighlightsIwantedformyhair.

Carter got jeans, boots, and aT-shirt that readProperty ofAlexandriaUniversity inEnglish andArabic.Clearly,evenpersonalshoppershadhimpeggedasacompletegeek.

Theshopperalsomanagedtofindsomesuppliesforourmagicbags—blocksofwax, twine,evensomepapyrusandink—thoughIdoubtBesexplainedtoherwhattheywerefor.

After she left, Bes, Carter and I orderedmore food from room service.We sat on the deck andwatched the afternoon go by. The breeze from the Mediterranean was cool and pleasant. ModernAlexandriastretchedouttoourleft—anoddmixofgleaminghigh-rises,shabby,crumblingbuildings,andancientruins.TheshorelinehighwaywasdottedwithpalmtreesandcrowdedwitheverysortofvehiclefromBMWstodonkeys.Fromourpenthousesuite,itallseemedabitunreal—therawenergyofthecity,thebustleandcongestionbelow—whilewesatonourverandaintheskyeatingfreshfruitandthelastmeltingbitsofLenin’shead.

Iwonderedifthiswashowthegodsfelt,watchingthemortalworldfromtheirthroneroomintheDuat.

Aswetalked,IsetthetwoscrollsfromtheBookofRaonthepatiotable.Theylookedsoplainandharmless,yetwe’dalmostdiedretrievingthem.Stillonemoretofind,thenthereal funwouldbegin—figuringout how to use them to awakenRa. It seemed impossiblewe could do somuch in forty-eighthours,yetherewesat, sidelinedandexhausted, forced to restuntil themorning.Carterandhisbloodyheroics,gettingbittenbythatDoctorDolittlesnake…andhecallsme impulsive.Meanwhile,Amosandour rookie initiateswere left aloneatBrooklynHouse,preparing todefendagainstVladMenshikov,a

magiciansoruthless,hewasonasecret-namebasiswiththegodofevil.I toldCarterwhat hadhappened inSt.Petersburg after hegot poisoned—how I’dgivenupSet’s

nameinexchangeforthelocationofthelastscroll:someplacecalledBahariya.IdescribedmyvisionofAnubisandWalt,mychatwithJaz’sspirit,andmytripbackintimetoRa’ssunbarge.TheonlythingIheldback:whatSethadsaidaboutZia’svillagebeingnamedal-HamrahMakan.Andyes, Iknowthatwaswrong—butI’djustbeeninsideCarter’shead.InowunderstoodhowimportantZiawastohim.Iknewhowbadlyanyinformationaboutherwouldrattlehim.

Cartersatinhisloungechairandlistenedintently.Hiscolorhadreturnedtonormal.Hiseyeswereclearandalert.Itwashardtobelievehe’dbeenondeath’sdooronlyhoursbefore.Iwantedtocreditmyhealingpowers,butIhadafeelinghisrecoveryhadjustasmuchtodowithrest,severalgingerales,andaroom-servicecheeseburgerwithchips.

“Bahariya…”HelookedatBes.“Iknowthatname.WhydoIknowthatname?”Besscratchedhisbeard.He’dbeenglumandsilentsinceI’drecountedourconversationwithSet.

ThenameBahariyaseemedespeciallytobotherhim.“It’sanoasis,”hesaid,“wayoutinthedesert.Themummiesburiedtherewereasecretuntil1996.

Thensomefooldonkeyputitslegthroughaholeinthegroundandbrokeopenthetopofatomb.”“Right!”Carter beamed atme, thatGee, history is cool! light in his eyes, so I knew hemust be

feelingbetter.“It’scalledtheValleyoftheGoldenMummies.”“Ilikegold,”Isaid.“Mummies—notsomuch.”“Oh,youjusthaven’tmetenoughmummies,”Bessaid.Icouldn’ttellifhewasjoking,andIdecidednottoask.“Sothelastscrollishiddenthere?”Besshrugged.“Itwouldmakesense.Theoasisisoutoftheway.Wasn’tfounduntilrecently.There

are also powerful curses in place to prevent portal travel. Themortal archaeologists have excavatedsomeofthetombs,butthere’sstillahugenetworkoftunnelsandchambersnoone’sopenedinthousandsofyears.Lotsofmummies.”

Iimaginedhorrorfilmmummieswiththeirarmsoutandtheirlinenwrapscomingundone,groaningastheychasedscreamingstarletsandstrangledarchaeologists.

“Whenyousaylotsofmummies,”Iventured,“howmanyislots?”“They’veuncoveredafewhundred,”Bessaid,“outofmaybetenthousand.”“Tenthousand?”IlookedatCarter,whodidn’tseembotheredbythisatall.“Sadie,”hesaid,“it’snotlikethey’regoingtocometolifeandkillyou.”“No,”Besagreed.“Probablynot.Almostforsurenot.”“Thanks,”Imuttered.“Ifeelmuchbetter.”(Yes, I know what I said earlier about dead people and cemeteries not bothering me. But ten

thousandmummies?Thatwaspushingit.)“Anyway,” Bes said, “most of the mummies are from Roman times. They’re not even properly

Egyptian.BunchofLatinwannabes trying toget intoourafterlifebecause it’s cooler.But someof theoldertombs…well,we’lljusthavetosee.WithtwopartsoftheBookofRa,youshouldbeabletotrackdownthethirdpartonceyougetcloseenough.”

“How,exactly?”Iasked.Besshrugged.“Whenmagicitemsgetbrokenup,thepiecesarelikemagnets.Theclosertheyget,the

moretheyattracteachother.”Thatdidn’tnecessarilymakemefeelbetter.Iimaginedmyselfrunningthroughatunnelwithflaming

scrollsstucktobothhands.“Right,”Isaid.“Soallwehavetodoiscreepthroughanetworkoftombspasttenthousandgolden

mummies,whoprobably,almostforsure,won’tcometolifeandkillus.”“Yeah,”Bessaid.“Well,they’renotreallysolidgold.Mostofthemarejustpaintedwithgold.But,

yeah.”“Thatmakesahugedifference.”“Thenit’sdecided.”Cartersoundedpositively thrilled.“Wecanleavein themorning.Howfar is

it?”“Alittleovertwohundredmiles,”Bessaid,“buttheroadsareiffy.Andportals…well,likeIsaid,

theoasisiscursedagainstthem.Andevenifitwasn’t,we’rebackintheFirstNome.Itwouldbewisetouseaslittlemagicaspossible.Ifyou’rediscoveredinDesjardins’hometerritory…”

Hedidn’tneedtofinishthatsentence.IgazedattheskylineofAlexandriacurvingalongtheshoreoftheglitteringMediterranean.Itriedto

pictureitasitmight’vebeeninancienttimes,beforeCleopatra,Egypt’sfinalpharaoh,chosethewrongsideinaRomancivilwarandlostherlifeandherkingdom.ThiswasthecitywhereAncientEgypthaddied.Itdidn’tseemaveryauspiciousplacetostartaquest.

Unfortunately, I had no choice. I’d have to travel two hundredmiles through the desert to someisolated oasis and find one needle of a scroll in a haystack ofmummies. I didn’t see howwe couldaccomplishthisinthetimewehadleft.

Worse,Ihadn’tyet toldCartermylastbitof informationaboutZia’svillage.Icouldjustkeepmymouthshut.Thatwouldbe theselfish thing.Itmightevenbetheright thing,asIneededhishelp,andIcouldn’taffordtohavehimdistracted.

ButIcouldn’tkeepitfromhim.I’dinvadedhismindandlearnedhissecretname.TheleastIcoulddowasbehonestwithhim.

“Carter…there’s something else. Set wanted you to know. Zia’s village was named al-HamrahMakan.”

Carterturnedabitgreenagain.“Youjustforgottomentionthis?”“Remember,Setisaliar,”Isaid.“Hewasn’tbeinghelpful.Hevolunteeredtheinformationbecause

hewantedtocausechaosbetweenus.”IcouldalreadytellIwaslosinghim.Hismindwascaughtinastrongcurrentthathadbeenpulling

him along since January—the idea that he could save Zia. Now that I’d been in hismind, I knew hewouldn’trest—hecouldn’trest—untilhe’dfoundher.Itwentfarbeyondlikingthegirl.He’dconvincedhimselfshewaspartofhisdestiny.

Oneofhisdarkersecrets?Deepdown,Carterstillresentedourfatherforfailingtosaveourmum,eventhoughshehaddiedforanoblecause,andeventhoughitwasherchoicetosacrificeherself.CartersimplycouldnotfailZiainthesameway,nomatterwhatthestakes.Heneededsomeonetobelieveinhim,someonetosave—andhewasconvincedZiawasthatperson.Sorry,alittlesisterjustwouldn’tdo.

Ithurtme,especiallysinceIdidn’tagreewithhim,but Iknewbetter than toargue. Itwouldonlypushhimfartheraway.

“Al-HamrahMakan…”hesaid.“MyArabicisn’tverygood.ButMakanisred.”“Yes,”Besagreed.“Al-Hamrahmeans‘thesands.’”Carter’seyeswidened.“ThePlaceofRedSands!ThevoiceattheBrooklynMuseumsaidZiawas

asleepatthePlaceofRedSands.”Helookedatmepleadingly.“Sadie,it’stheruinsofherhomevillage.That’swhereIskandarhidher.Wehavetofindher.”

Justlikethat:thefateoftheworldgoesoutthewindow.WehavetofindZia.Icouldhavepointedoutseveralthings:Hewasgoingonthewordofanevilspiritthatwasprobably

speakingdirectlyfromApophis.IfApophisknewwhereZiawaskept,whywouldhetellus,except todelayanddistractus?AndifhewantedZiadead,whyhadn’thekilledheralready?Also,Sethadgivenusthenameal-HamrahMakan.Setwasneveruptoanygood.Hewasclearlyhopingtodivideus.Finally,evenifwehadthenameofthevillage,thatdidn’tmeanwecouldfindit.Theplacehadbeenwipedoutalmostadecadeago.

ButlookingatCarter,Irealizedtherewasnoreasoningwithhim.Thiswasn’tareasonablechoice.HesawachancetosaveZia,andhewasgoingtotakeit.

Isimplysaid,“It’sabadidea.”Andyes, it feltquitestrangebeingforcedtoplaytheresponsiblesibling.

CarterturnedtoBes.“Couldyoufindthisvillage?”ThedwarfgodtuggedathisHawaiianshirt.“Maybe,butitwouldtaketime.You’vegotalittlemore

thantwodaysleft.Theequinoxstartsthedayaftertomorrowatsunset.GettingtotheoasisofBahariyaisa fulldayof travel.Finding this ruinedvillage—easilyanotherday—and if it’son theNile, it’s in theoppositedirection.Onceyou’vegottheBookofRa,you’llneedtoallowanotherdayatleasttofigureouthow to use it. I guarantee awakening Ra will mean a trip into the Duat, where time is alwaysunpredictable.You’llhavetobebackwithRaatdawnontheequinox—”

“Wedon’thaveenoughtime,”Isummedup.“It’seithertheBookofRa,orZia.”WhydidIpressCarter,whenIknewwhathewasgoingtosay?“Ican’t leaveher.”He lookedat thesun,nowdipping toward in thehorizon.“She’sgotapart to

play,Sadie.Idon’tknowwhatitis,butshe’simportant.Wecan’tloseher.”Iwaited.Itwasobviouswhathadtohappen,butCarterwasn’tgoingtosayit.Itookadeepbreath.“We’llhavetoseparate.YouandBesgoafterZia.I’lltrackdownthescroll.”Bescoughed.“Speakingofbadideas…”Cartercouldn’tlookmeintheeyes.Iknewhecaredaboutme.Hedidn’twanttoberidofme,butI

could sensehis relief.Hewanted tobe released fromhis responsibilities sohe couldhunt downZia.“Yousavedmylife,”hesaid.“Ican’tletyougoaloneintothedesert.”

Iunclaspedmyshennecklace.“Iwon’tgoalone.Waltofferedtohelp.”“Hecan’t,”Bessaid.“Butyouwon’ttellmewhy,”Isaid.“I—”Besfaltered.“Look,IpromisedBastI’dwatchyou,keepyousafe.”“AndIexpectyoutowatchCarterverywell.He’llneedyoutofindthisvillage.Asforme,Waltand

Icanmanage.”“But—”“WhateverWalt’s bloody secret is, whatever you’re trying to protect him from, it’s making him

miserable.Hewantstohelp.AndI’mgoingtolethim.”Thedwarfglaredatme,possiblywonderingifhecouldyellBOO!andwintheargument.Isuppose

herealizedIwastoostubborn.Hesighedinresignation.“TwoyoungpeopletravelingalonethroughEgypt…aboyandagirl.It’ll

lookstrange.”“I’lljustsayWalt’smybrother.”Carterwinced.Ihadn’tmeanttobeharsh,butIsupposethecommentwasabithurtful.Lookingback,

I’m sorry for that, but at the time I was terrified and angry. Carter was putting me in an impossibleposition.

“Go,”Isaidfirmly.“SaveZia.”Cartertriedtoreadmyexpression,butIavoidedlookingathim.Thiswasnotthetimeforustohave

oneofoursilentconversations.Hedidn’treallywanttoknowwhatIwasthinking.“Howwillwefindeachother?”heasked.“Let’smeetbackhere,”Isuggested.“We’ll leaveatdawn.Allowourselves twenty-fourhours,no

longer,formetofindthescroll,youtofindZia’svillage,andbothofusgetbacktoAlexandria.”Bes grunted. “Not enough time. Even if everything goes perfectly, that’ll leave you about twelve

hourstoputtogethertheBookofRaanduseitbeforetheeveoftheequinox.”Hewasright.Itwasimpossible.

YetCarternodded.“It’souronlychance.Wehavetotry.”He lookedatmehopefully,but I thinkIkneweven then thatwewouldn’tmeet inAlexandria.We

weretheKanes,whichmeanteverythingwouldgowrong.“Fine,”Imuttered.“Now,ifyou’llexcuseme,Ishouldgopack.”IwalkedinsidebeforeIcouldstartcrying.

CARTER

13.IGetaDemonUpMyNose

ATTHISPOINT,ISHOULDCHANGEmysecretnametoEmbarrassedtoDeathbySister,becausethatprettymuchsumsupmyexistence.

I’mgoingskipoverourtravelpreparations,howSadiesummonedWaltandexplainedthesituation,howBesandIsaidourfarewellsatdawnandrentedacarfromoneofBes’s“reliablefriends,”andhowthatcarbrokedownhalfwaytoCairo.

Basically,I’mgoingtoskiptothepartwhereBesandIwererumblingalongadustyroadinthebackofapickuptruckdrivenbysomeBedouins,lookingforavillagethatnolongerexisted.

Bythispointitwaslateafternoon,andIwasstartingtothinkBes’sestimateofneedingonedaytofind al-HamrahMakanwasway too optimistic.With each hourwewasted,my heart felt heavier. I’driskedeverythingtohelpZia.I’dleftAmosandourinitiatesaloneatBrooklynHousetodefendagainstthemostevilmagicianintheworld.I’dleftmysistertocontinuethequestforthelastscrollwithoutme.IfIfailedtofindZia…well,Icouldn’tfail.

Travelingwithprofessionalnomadshadsomeadvantages.Foronething,theBedouinskneweveryvillage, farm, and dusty crossroads in Egypt. They were happy to stop and ask the locals about thevanishedvillagewewereseeking.

Foranother thing, theBedouinsreveredBes.Theytreatedhimasa livinggood-luckcharm.Whenwestoppedforlunch(whichtooktwohourstomake),theBedouinsevengaveusthebestpartofthegoat.AsfarasIcouldtell,thebestpartofthegoatwasn’ttoodifferentfromtheworstpartofthegoat,butIsupposeitwasabighonor.

ThebadthingabouttravelingwithBedouins?Theyweren’tinahurry.IttookusalldaytowindourwaysouthalongtheNileValley.Thejourneywashotandboring.Inthebackofthetruck,Icouldn’teventalktoBeswithoutgettingamouthfulofsand,soIhadwaytoomuchtimetothink.

Sadiedescribedmyobsessionprettywell.Themomentshe’dgivenmethenameofZia’svillage,Icouldn’t focus on anything else.Of course, I figured itwas some sort of trick.Apophiswas trying todivideusandkeepusfromsucceedingonourquest.ButIalsobelievedhewastellingthetruth,ifonlybecausethetruthiswhatwouldrattlemethemost.HehaddestroyedZia’svillagewhenshewasachild—for what reason, I didn’t know. Now she was hidden there in a magic sleep. Unless I saved her,Apophiswouldkillher.

Whyhadn’thekilledheralreadyifheknewwhereshewas?Iwasn’tsure—andthatbotheredme.Maybehedidn’thavethepoweryet.Maybehedidn’twantto.Afterall,ifhewastryingtoluremeintoatrap,shewasthebestbait.Whateverthecase,Sadiewasright:itwasn’tarationalchoiceforme.IhadtosaveZia.

Despite that, I felt likeacreep for leavingSadieonherownyetagain.First I’d lethergooff toLondoneventhoughIknewitwasabadidea.NowI’dsenthertotrackdownascrollinacatacombfullofmummies.Sure,Waltwouldhelpher,andshecouldusually takecareofherself.Butagoodbrotherwouldhavestayedwithher.Sadiehadjustsavedmylife,andIwaslike,“Great.Seeyoulater.Havefunwiththemummies.”

I’lljustsayWaltismybrother.Ouch.IfI’mhonestwithmyself,Ziawasn’ttheonlyreasonIwasanxioustogooffonmyown.Iwasin

shockthatSadiehaddiscoveredmysecretname.Suddenlysheknewmebetterthananyoneintheworld.Ifelt like she’d openedmeup on the surgery table, examinedme, and sewnmeback together.My firstinstinctwastorunaway,toputasmuchdistancebetweenusaspossible.

IwonderedifRahadfeltthesamewaywhenIsislearnedhisname—ifthatwastherealreasonhewentintoexile:completehumiliation.

Also, I needed time to process what Sadie had accomplished. For months we’d been trying torelearn the path of the gods.We’d struggled to figure out how the ancientmagicians tapped the gods’powerswithoutgettingpossessedoroverwhelmed.NowIsuspectedSadiehadfoundtheanswer.Ithadsomethingtodowithagod’sren.

Asecretnamewasn’tjustaname,likeamagicword.Itwasthesumofthegod’sexperiences.Themoreyouunderstood thegod, thecloseryougot toknowing theirsecretname,and themoreyoucouldchanneltheirpower.

If thatwas true, then the path of the godswas basically sympatheticmagic—finding a similaritybetweentwothings,likearegularcorkscrewandacorkscrew-headeddemon,andusingthatsimilaritytoformamagicbond.Onlyhere,thebondwasbetweenthemagicianandagod.Ifyoucouldfindacommontraitorexperience,youcouldtapthegod’spower.

ThatmightexplainhowI’dblastedopenthedoorsattheHermitagewiththeFistofHorus—aspellI’dneverbeenabletodoonmyown.Without thinkingaboutit,withoutneedingtocombinesoulswithHorus,I’d tappedintohisemotions.Webothhatedfeelingconfined.I’dusedthatsimpleconnectiontoinvokeaspellandbreakthechains.Now,ifIcouldjustfigureouthowtodostufflikethatmorereliably,itmightsaveusinthecomingbattles….

WetraveledformilesintheBedouins’truck.TheNilesnakedthroughgreenandbrownfieldstoourleft.Wehadnothing todrinkbutwater fromanoldplastic jug that tasted likeVaseline.Thegoatmeatwasn’t sitting well in my stomach. Every once in a while I’d remember the poison that had coursedthroughmybody,andmyshoulderwouldstarttoachewherethetjesuheruhadbittenme.

Aroundsixintheeveningwegotourfirstlead.Anoldfellahin,apeasantfarmersellingdatesontheroadside,saidheknewthevillagewewereseeking.Whenheheardthenameal-HamrahMakanhemadeaprotective sign against theEvilEye, but sinceBeswas theone asking, theoldman tolduswhat heknew.

HesaidRedSandswasanevilplace,verybadlycursed.Nooneevervisitednowadays.Buttheoldmanrememberedthevillagefrombeforeithadbeendestroyed.Wewouldfindittenkilometerssouth,atabendintheriverwherethesandturnedbrightred.

Well,duh,Ithought,butIcouldn’thelpbeingexcited.TheBedouinsdecided tomakecampfor thenight.Theywouldn’tbegoingwithus the restof the

way,buttheysaidthey’dbehonoredifBesandIborrowedtheirtruck.Afewminuteslater,BesandIwerecruisingalonginthepickup.Besworeafloppyhatalmostas

uglyashisHawaiianshirt.Itwaspulledsolow,Iwasn’tsurehecouldseeanything,especiallysincehewasbarelyeye-levelwiththedashboard.

Every timewehit abump,Bedouin trinkets jangledon the rearviewmirror—ametal disk etchedwithArabiccalligraphy,aChristmas-tree–shapedpineairfreshener,someanimalteethonaleatherstrap,andalittleiconofElvisPresleyforreasonsIdidn’tunderstand.Thetruckhadnosuspensionandhardlyanypaddingontheseats.IfeltlikeIwasridingamechanicalbull.Evenwithoutthejostling,mystomachwould’vebeenupset.Aftermonthsofsearchingandhoping,Icouldn’tbelieveIwassoclosetofindingZia.

“Youlookterrible,”Bessaid.“Thanks.”“I mean magically speaking. You don’t look ready for a fight. Whatever’s waiting for us, you

understanditisn’tgoingtobefriendly?”Underthebrimofhishat,hisjawjuttedoutlikehewasbracingforanargument.“Youthinkthisisamistake,”Isaid.“YouthinkIshould’vestayedwithSadie.”Heshrugged.“Ithinkifyouwerelookingatitstraight,you’dseethishasTRAPwrittenalloverit.

TheoldChiefLector—Iskandar—hewouldn’thavehiddenyourgirlfriend—”“She’snotmygirlfriend.”“—withoutputtingsomeprotectivespellsaroundher.SetandApophisapparentlybothwantyouto

findthisplace,whichmeansitcannotbegoodforyou.You’releavingyoursisterandWaltontheirown.On top of all that,we’re traipsing throughDesjardins’ backyard, and after that stunt inSt. Petersburg,Menshikovwon’trestuntilhefindsyou.So,yeah,I’dsaythisisn’tyourbrightestidea.”

Istaredoutthewindshield.IwantedtobemadatBesforcallingmestupid,butIwasafraidhemightberight.I’dbeenhopingforahappyreunionwithZia.ThechanceswereI’dnevermakeitthroughtonightalive.

“MaybeMenshikovisstillrecoveringfromhisheadinjuries,”Isaidhopefully.Beslaughed.“Takeitfromme,kid.Menshikovisalreadyafteryou.Heneverforgetsaninsult.”His voice smolderedwith anger, like it did in St. Petersburgwhen he’d told us about the dwarf

wedding.IwonderedwhathadreallyhappenedtoBesinthatpalace,andwhyhewasstillbroodingoveritthreehundredyearslater.

“WasitVlad?”Iasked.“Washetheonewhocapturedyou?”Itdidn’tseemsofar-fetched.I’dmetseveralmagicianswhowerecenturiesold.ButBesshookhis

head.“Hisgrandfather,PrinceAlexanderMenshikov.”Bessaidthenamelikeitwasamajorinsult.“He

wassecretlytheheadoftheEighteenthNome.Powerful.Cruel.Alotlikehisgrandson.I’dneverdealtwithamagicianlikethat.ItwasthefirsttimeI’dbeencaptured.”

“Butdidn’tthemagicianslockallyougodsintheDuatafterEgyptfell?”“Mostofus,”Besagreed.“Someslepttheentiretwomillenniauntilyourdadunleashedus.Others

brokeoutfromtimeto timeandtheHouseofLifewould trackthemdownandput themback.Sekhmetbrokeoutin1918.Biginfluenzaepidemic.Butafewofthegodslikemestayedinthemortalworldtheentire time.Back in the ancient days, Iwas just, youknow, a friendly guy. I scared away spirits.Thecommoners likedme. Sowhen Egypt fell, the Romans adoptedme as one of their gods. Then, in theMiddleAges, theChristiansmodeledgargoylesafterme, toprotect theircathedralsandwhatnot.Theymadeuplegendsaboutgnomes,dwarves,helpfulleprechauns—allbasedonme.”

“Helpfulleprechauns?”Hescowled.“Youdon’tthinkI’mhelpful?Ilookgoodingreentights.”“Ididn’tneedthatimage.”Beshuffed.“Anyway,theHouseofLifewasneverseriousabouttrackingmedown.Ijustkeptalow

profileandstayedoutoftrouble.IwasnevercaptureduntilRussia.Probablystillbeaprisonerthereifitwasn’tfor—”Hestoppedhimself,asifrealizinghe’dsaidtoomuch.

Heturnedofftheroad.Thetruckrattledoverhard-packedsandandrocks,headingfortheriver.“Someonehelpedyouescape?”Iguessed.“Bast?”Thedwarf’sneckturnedbrightred.“No…notBast.ShewasstuckintheabyssfightingApophis.”“Then—”“Thepointis,Igotfree,andIgotmyrevenge.ImanagedtogetAlexanderMenshikovconvictedon

corruptioncharges.Hewasdisgraced,strippedofhiswealthandtitles.HiswholefamilywasshippedofftoSiberia.Best dayofmy life.Unfortunately, his grandsonVladimirmade a comeback.Eventuallyhemoved back to St. Petersburg, rebuilt his grandfather’s fortune, and took over theEighteenthNome. IfVladhadthechancetocaptureme…”

Besshiftedinthedriver’sseatlikethespringsweregettinguncomfortable.“IguesswhyI’mtellingyouthis…You’reokay,kid.ThewayyoustoodupforyoursisteronWaterlooBridge,readytotakemeon—thattookguts.Andtryingtorideatjesuheru?Thatwasplentybrave.Stupid,butbrave.”

“Um,thanks.”“Youremindmeofmyself,”Bescontinued,“backwhenIwasayoungdwarf.Yougotastubborn

streak.Whenitcomestogirlproblems,you’reclueless.”“Girlproblems?”IthoughtnobodycouldembarrassmeasmuchasSadiedidwhenshelearnedmy

secretname,butBeswasdoingaprettygoodjob.“Thisisn’tjustagirlproblem.”BesregardedmelikeIwasapoorlostpuppy.“YouwanttosaveZia.Igetthat.Youwanthertolike

you.Butwhenyourescuesomebody…itcomplicates things.Don’tgetstarry-eyedaboutsomebodyyoucan’t have, especially if it blinds you to somebody who’s really important. Don’t…don’t make mymistakes.”

Iheardthepaininhisvoice.Iknewhewastryingtohelp,butitstillfeltweirdgettingguyadvicefromafour-foot-tallgodinanuglyhat.

“The person who rescued you,” I said. “It was a goddess, wasn’t it? Someone besides Bast—somebodyyouwereinvolvedwith?”

Hisknucklesturnedwhiteonthesteeringwheel.“Kid.”“Yeah?”“I’mgladwehadthistalk.Now,ifyouvalueyourteeth—”“I’llshutup.”“That’sgood.”Besputhisfootonthebrake.“BecauseIthinkwe’rehere.”Thesunwasgoingdownatourbacks.Everythinginfrontofuswasbathedinredlight—thesand,

thewaterof theNile, thehillson thehorizon.Even thefrondsof thepalmtrees looked like theyweretingedwithblood.

Setwouldlovethisplace,Ithought.Therewasnosignofcivilization—justafewgrayheronsflyingoverheadandanoccasionalsplash

intheriver:maybefishoracrocodile.IimaginedthispartoftheNilehadn’tlookedtoodifferentinthetimeofthepharaohs.

“Comeon,”Bessaid.“Bringyourstuff.”Bes didn’twait forme.When I caught up to him, hewas standing on the riverbank, sifting sand

throughhisfingers.“It’snotjustthelight,”Irealized.“Thatstuffisreallyred.”Besnodded.“Youknowwhy?”Mymomwouldhavesaidironoxideorsomethinglikethat.She’dhadascientificexplanationfor

everything.ButsomethingtoldmeBeswasn’tlookingforthatkindofanswer.“Redisthecolorofevil,”Isaid.“Thedesert.Chaos.Destruction.”Besdustedoffhishands.“Thiswasabadplacetobuildavillage.”I lookedaroundforanysignofasettlement.Theredsandstretchedineitherdirectionforabouta

hundredyards.Thickgrassandwillowtreesborderedthearea,butthesanditselfwascompletelybarren.Thewayitglitteredandshiftedundermyfeetremindedmeof themoundsofdriedscarabshells intheDuat,holdingbackApophis.IreallywishedIhadn’tthoughtofthat.

“There’snothinghere,”Isaid.“Noruins.Nothing.”“Lookagain.”Bespointedtotheriver.Olddeadreedsstuckuphereandthereoveranareathesize

ofasoccerfield.ThenIrealizedthereedsweren’treeds—theyweredecayingboardsandwoodenpoles,the remains of simple dwellings. I walked to the edge of thewater. A few feet out, it was calm andshallowenough that Icouldmakeouta lineofsubmergedmudbricks: thefoundationofawallslowlydissolvingintosilt.

“Thewholevillagesank?”“Itwasswallowed,”Bessaid.“TheNileistryingtowashawaytheevilthathappenedhere.”Ishivered.Thefangwoundsonmyshoulderstartedthrobbingagain.“Ifit’ssuchanevilplace,why

wouldIskandarhideZiahere?”“Goodquestion,”Bessaid.“Youwanttofindtheanswer,you’llhavetowadeoutthere.”Partofmewantedtorunbacktothetruck.ThelasttimeI’dwadedintoariver—theRioGrandein

ElPaso—ithadn’tgonesowell.We’dbattledthecrocodilegodSobekandbarelygottenawaywithourlives.ThiswastheNile.Godsandmonsterswouldbemuchstrongerhere.

“You’recomingtoo,aren’tyou?”IaskedBes.Thecornerofhiseyetwitched.“Runningwater’snotgoodforgods.Loosensourconnectiontothe

Duat…”Hemusthaveseenthelookofdesperationonmyface.“Yeah,okay,”hesighed.“I’mrightbehindyou.”BeforeIcouldchickenout,Iputonebootintheriverandsankuptomyankle.“Gross.”Iwadedout,myfeetmakingsoundslikeacowchewinggum.Alittletoolate,IrealizedhowpoorlypreparedIwas.Ididn’thavemysword,becauseI’dlostitin

St.Petersburg.Ihadn’tbeenabletosummonitback.ForallIknew,theRussianmagicianshadmelteditdown.Istillhadmywand,butthatwasmostlyfordefensivespells.IfIhadtogoontheoffense,I’dbeataseriousdisadvantage.

I pulled an old stick out of the mud and used it to poke around. Bes and I trudged through theshallows,tryingtofindanythinguseful.Wekickedoversomebricks,discoveredafewintactsectionsofwalls,andbroughtupsomepotteryshards.IthoughtaboutthestoryZiahadtoldme—howherdadcausedthedestructionofthevillagebyunearthingademontrappedinajar.ForallIknew,thesewereshardsofthatsamejar.

Nothingattackedusexceptmosquitoes.Wedidn’tfindanytraps.Buteverysplashintherivermademethinkofcrocodiles(andnotthenicealbinokindlikePhilipbackinBrooklyn)orthebigtoothytigerfishZiahadshownmeonceintheFirstNome.Iimaginedthemswimmingaroundmyfeet,tryingtodecidewhichleglookedthetastiest.

OutofthecornerofmyeyeIkeptseeingripplesandtinywhirlpoolslikesomethingwasfollowingme.WhenIstabbedthewaterwithmystick,therewasnothingthere.

Afteranhourofsearching,thesunhadalmostset.WeweresupposedtomakeitbacktoAlexandriatomeetupwithSadiebymorning,whichleftusalmostnotimetofindZia.Andtwenty-fourhoursfromnow,thenexttimethesunwentdown,theequinoxwouldbegin.

Wekeptlooking,butdidn’tfindanythingmoreinterestingthanamuddydeflatedsoccerballandasetof dentures. [Yes, Sadie, they were even more disgusting than Gramps’s.] I stopped to swat themosquitoesoffmyneck.Bessnatchedsomethingoutofthewater—awrigglyfishorafrog—andstuckitinhismouth.

“Doyouhaveto?”Iasked.“What?”hesaid,stillchewing.“It’sdinnertime.”Iturnedindisgustandpokedmystickinthewater.Thunk.Istrucksomethingharderthanmudbrickorwood.Thiswasstone.I tracedmy stick along the bottom. Itwasn’t a rock. Itwas a flat rowof hewnblocks.The edge

droppedofftoanotherrowofstonesaboutafootlower:likestairs,leadingdown.“Bes,”Icalled.Hewadedover.Thewatercameupalmosttohisarmpits.Hisformshimmeredinthecurrentlikehe

mightdisappearanyminute.

IshowedhimwhatI’dfound.“Huh.”Hedunkedhisheadunderwater.Whenhecamebackup,hisbeardwascoveredinmuckand

weeds.“Stairs,allright.Remindsmeoftheentrancetoatomb.”“Atomb,”Isaid,“inthemiddleofavillage?”Offtomyleft,therewasanothersplash.Besfrowned.“Didyouseethat?”“Yeah.Eversincewegotintothewater.Youhaven’tnoticed?”Besstuckhisfingerinthewaterasiftestingthetemperature.“Weshouldhurry.”“Why?”“Probablynothing.”Heliedevenworsethanmydad.“Let’sgetalookatthistomb.Parttheriver.”Hesaidthatasifitwereaperfectlynormalrequest,likePassthesalt.“I’macombatmagician,”Isaid.“Idon’tknowhowtopartariver.”Beslookedoffended.“Oh,comeon.That’sstandardstuff.BackinKhufu’sdayIknewamagician

whopartedtheNilejustsohecouldclimbtothebottomandretrieveagirl’snecklace.ThentherewasthatIsraelitefellow,Mickey.”

“Moses?”“Yeah,him,”Bessaid.“Anyway,youshouldtotallybeabletopartthewater.Wegottahurry.”“Ifit’ssoeasy,whydon’tyoudoit?”“Nowhegetsanattitude.Itoldyou,kid,runningwaterinterfereswithgodlypower.Probablyoneof

thereasonsIskandarhidyourfrienddownthere,ifthat’swheresheis.Youcandothis.Just—”Hesuddenlytensed.“Gettotheshore.”“Butyousaid—”“Now!”Beforewecouldmove,therivereruptedaroundus.Threeseparatewaterspoutsblastedupward,and

Beswaspulledunderwater.Itriedtorun,butmyfeetstuckinthemud.Thewaterspoutssurroundedme.Theyswirledintohuman

shapeswithheads,shoulders,andarmsmadefromribbonsofchurningwater,asiftheyweremummiescreatedfromtheNile.

Twentyfeetdownstream,Besbroketothesurface.“Waterdemons!”hespluttered.“Wardthemoff!”“How?”Ishouted.TwoofthewaterdemonsveeredtowardBes.Thedwarfgodtriedtokeephisfooting,buttheriver

boiledintowhitewaterrapids,andhewasalreadyuptohisarmpits.“Comeon,kid!”heyelled.“Everyshepherdusedtoknowcharmsagainstwaterdemons!”“Well,findmeashepherd,then!”Besyelled,“BOO!”andthefirstwaterdemonevaporated.Heturnedtowardthesecond,butbefore

hecouldscareit,thewaterdemonblastedhimintheface.Bes choked and stumbled,water shootingout his nostrils.Thedemon crashedover him, andBes

wentunderagain.“Bes!”Iyelled.Thethirddemonsurgedtowardme.Iraisedmywandandmanagedaweakshieldofbluelight.The

demonslammedagainstit,knockingmebackward.Itsmouthandeyesspunlikeminiaturewhirlpools.Lookinginitsfacewaslikeusingascryingbowl.

Icouldsensethething’sendlesshunger,itshatredforhumans.Itwantedtobreakeverydam,devoureverycity,anddrowntheworldinaseaofchaos.Anditwouldstartbykillingme.

Myconcentrationfaltered.Thethingrushedme,shatteringmyshieldandpullingmeunderwater.Evergetwaterupyournose?Imagineanentirewaveupyournose—anintelligentwavethatknows

exactlyhowtodrownyou.Ilostmywand.Mylungsfilledwithliquid.Allrationalthoughtdissolvedinto

panic.I thrashed and kicked, knowing Iwas only in three or four feet ofwater, but I couldn’t get up. I

couldn’tseeanythingthroughthemurk.Myheadbrokethesurface,andIsawafuzzyimageofBesgettingtossedaroundatopawaterspout,screaming,“Boo,already!Bemorescared!”

ThenIwentunderagain,myhandsclawingatthemud.Myheartpounded.Myvisionstartedtogodark.EvenifIcouldhavethoughtofaspell,Icouldn’t

havespokenit.IwishedIhadseagodpowers,buttheyweren’texactlyHorus’sspecialty.I was losing consciousnesswhen something grippedmy arm. I punched at it wildly, andmy fist

connectedwithabeardedface.Ibrokethesurfaceagain,gaspingforbreath.Beswashalf-drowningnexttome,yelling:“Stupid—

glub,glub—tryingtosaveyourglubglub.”Thedemonpulledmeunderagain,butsuddenlymythoughtswereclearer.Maybethatlastmouthful

ofoxygenhaddonethetrick.OrmaybepunchingBeshadsnappedmeoutofmypanic.IrememberedHorushadbeeninasituationlikethisbefore.Sethadoncetriedtodrownhim,pulling

himintotheNile.Ilatchedontothatmemoryandmadeitmyown.I reached into theDuat and channeled the power of thewar god intomybody.Rage filledme. I

wouldnotbepinneddown.IfollowedthePathofHorus.Iwouldnotletastupidliquidmummydrownmeinthreefeetofwater.

Myvisionturnedred.Iscreamed,expellingthewaterfrommylungsinonehugeblast.WHOOOM!TheNileexploded.Icollapsedonafieldofmud.AtfirstIwastootiredtodoanythingbutcough.WhenImanagedtostaggertomyfeetandwipethe

silt out ofmy eyes, I saw that the river had changed its course. It nowcurved around the ruins of thevillage.Exposedintheglisteningredmudwerebricksandboards,trash,oldclothes,thefenderofacar,andbonesthatmight’vebeenanimalorhuman.Afewfishfloppedaround,wonderingwheretheriverhadgone.Therewasnosignofthewaterdemons.Abouttenfeetaway,Beswasscowlingatmeinannoyance.Hehadabloodynoseandwasburieduptohiswaistinmud.

“Usuallywhenyoupartariver,”hegrumbled,“itdoesn’tinvolvepunchingadwarf.Now,getmeoutofhere!”

Imanagedtopryhimfree,whichcausedasuckingnoisesoimpressivethatIwishedIhadrecordedit.[Andno,Sadie,I’mnotgoingtotrytomakeitforthemicrophone.]

“I’msorry,”Istammered.“Ididn’tmeanto—”Hewavedaside theapology.“Youhandledthewaterdemons.That’swhatmatters.Nowwegotta

seeifyoucanhandlethat.”Iturnedandsawthetomb.Itwasarectangularpitaboutthesizeofawalk-incloset,linedwithstoneblocks.Stepsleddownto

aclosedstonedooretchedwithhieroglyphs.ThelargestwasthesymbolfortheHouseofLife:

“Thosedemonswereguardingtheentrance,”Bessaid.“Theremaybeworseinside.”Underneaththesymbol,Irecognizedarowofphonetichieroglyphs:

“Z—I—A,”Iread.“Zia’sinside.”“Andthat,”Besmuttered,“iswhatwecallinthemagicbusinessatrap.Lastchancetochangeyour

mind,kid.”ButIwasn’t really listening.Ziawasdownthere.Evenif I’dknownwhatwasabout tohappen,I

don’tthinkIcould’vestoppedmyself.Iclimbeddownthestepsandpushedopenthedoor.

CARTER

14.AttheTombofZiaRashid

THESARCOPHAGUSwasmadeofwater.Itwas anoversizehuman figurewith rounded feet,wide shoulders, anda larger-than-life smiling

face,likeotherEgyptiancoffinsI’dseen;butthewholethingwassculptedfrompureglowingliquid.Itsatonastonedaisinthemiddleofasquarechamber.Egyptianartdecoratedthewalls,butIdidn’tpaytoomuchattentiontothat.

Insidethesarcophagus,ZiaRashidfloatedinwhiterobes.Herarmswerecrossedoverherchest.Inherhandsshegrippedashepherd’scrookandawarflail,thesymbolsofapharaoh.Herstaffandwandfloated at her side. Her short black hair drifted around her face, which was just as beautiful as Iremembered.Ifyou’veeverseenthefamoussculptureofQueenNefertiti,Ziaremindedmeofher,withtheraisedeyebrows,highcheekbones,gracefulnose,andperfectredlips.

[SadiesaysI’moverdoingitwiththedescription,butit’strue.There’sareasonNefertitiwascalledthemostbeautifulwomanintheworld.]

As I approached the sarcophagus, thewater began to shimmer.Acurrent rippleddown the sides,tracingthesamesymboloverandover:

Besmadearumblingsoundinhisthroat.“Youdidn’ttellmeshewasagodling.”Ihadn’tthoughttomentionit,butofcoursethat’swhyIskandarhadhiddenZiaaway.Whenourdad

unleashedthegodsattheBritishMuseum,oneofthem—therivergoddessNephthys—hadchosenZiaforahost.

“That’sthesymbolofNephthys?”Iguessed.Besnodded.“Didn’tyousaythisgirlwasafireelementalist?”“Yeah.”“Hmph.Notagoodcombination.NowondertheChiefLectorputherinsuspendedanimation.Afire

magicianhostingawatergoddess—thatcouldkillher,unless…huh,that’sprettyclever.”“What?”“ThecombinationofwateroverfirecouldalsomaskZia’spowers.IfIskandarwastryingtohide

herfromApophis…”Hiseyeswidened.“HolyMotherNut.Isthatthecrookandflail?”“Yeah,Ithink.”Iwasn’tsurewhyheactedsoshocked.“Didn’talotofimportantpeoplegetburied

withthose?”Besgavemeanincredulouslook.“Youdon’tunderstand,kid.Thosearetheoriginalcrookandflail,

theroyalinstrumentsofRa.”SuddenlyIfeltlikeI’dswallowedamarble.Idon’tthinkIcould’vebeenmoresurprisedifBeshad

saidBy theway, you’re leaning against a hydrogen bomb.The crook and flail ofRawere themostpowerfulsymbolsofthemostpowerfulEgyptiangod.YetinZia’shandstheydidn’tappeartobeanythingspecial.Thecrooklookedlikeanoversizegoldandbluecandycane.Theflailwasawoodenrodwiththreespikedchainsattheend.Theydidn’tgloworsaypropertyofra.

“Whywouldtheybehere?”Iasked.“Dunno,”Bessaid,“butthat’sthem.LastIheardtheywerelockedintheFirstNome’svaults.Only

theChiefLectorhadaccess.IguessIskandarburiedthemwithyourfriendhere.”“Toprotecther?”Besshrugged,clearlybaffled.“That’dbelikewiringyourhomesecuritysystemtoanuclearmissile.

Completeoverkill.NowonderApophishasn’tbeenable to attackher.That’s some serious protectionagainstChaos.”

“WhathappensifIwakeher?”“Thespellsshieldingherwillbebroken.ThatcouldbewhyApophisledyouhere.OnceZia’soutof

thatsarcophagus,she’saneasiertarget.AstowhyApophiswouldwantherdead,orwhyIskandarwouldgotosuchtroubletoguardher—yourguessisasgoodasmine.”

IstudiedZia’sface.Forthreemonths,I’ddreamedoffindingher.NowIwasalmosttooscaredtowakeher.Bybreakingthesleepspell,Imightaccidentallyhurther,orleaveheropentoanattackfromApophis.EvenifIsucceeded,whatifshewokeupanddecidedthatshehatedme?Iwantedtobelieveshepossessedsharedmemorieswithhershabti,sothatshewouldrememberthetimeswe’dhadtogether.Butifshehadn’t,Iwasn’tsureIcouldstandtherejection.

Itouchedthewatercoffin.“Careful,kid,”Beswarned.Magicenergyrippledthroughme.Itwassubtle—likelookinginthefaceofthewaterdemon—butI

couldsenseZia’sthoughts.Shewastrappedinadreamofdrowning.Shewastryingtoholdontoherlastgoodmemory:Iskandar’skindlyfaceasheplacedthecrookandflailinherhands:Keepthese,mydear.Youwillneedthem.Anddonotfear.Dreamswillnotbotheryou.

ButIskandarhadbeenwrong.Nightmareshadinvadedhersleep.ThevoiceofApophishissedinthedarkness:Idestroyedyourfamily.AndIamcomingforyou.Ziasawthedemolitionofhervillageoverand over, while Aphophis laughed, and the spirit of Nephthys churned uncomfortably inside her.Iskandar’smagichadtrappedthegoddesstooinanenchantedsleep,andshetriedtoprotectZia,callingon theNile to cover this chamber and shield them both from the Serpent. Still, she couldn’t stop thedreams.Ziahadbeenhavingthesamechaoticnightmareforthreemonths,andhersanitywascrumbling.

“Ihavetofreeher,”Isaid.“She’spartiallyconscious.”Bessuckedairthroughhisteeth.“Thatshouldn’tbepossible,butifit’strue—”“She’sinserioustrouble.”Isankmyhanddeeperintothesarcophagus.Ichanneledthesamekindof

magicI’dusedtoparttheriver,onlyonasmallerscale.Slowlythewaterlostitsshape,meltinglikeanicecube.BeforeZiacouldspilloffthedais,Icaughtherinmyarms.Shedroppedthecrookandflail.Herstaffandwandclatteredtothefloor.

Asthelastofthesarcophagustrickledaway,Zia’seyesflewopen.Shetriedtobreathebutcouldn’tseemtoinhale.

“Bes,what’swrongwithher?”Isaid.“WhatdoIdo?”“Thegoddess,”hesaid.“Zia’sbodyisrejectingthespiritofNephthys.Gethertotheriver!”Zia’s face started to turn blue. I gathered her inmy arms and raced up the slippery stairs,which

wasn’t easywithZiakicking andhittingmeall theway. Imanaged tomake it across themudwithoutfallingandeasedherdownnexttotheriverbank.

Sheclawedatherthroat,hereyesfulloffear;butassoonasherbodytouchedtheNile,ablueauraflickeredaroundher.Herfaceturnedbackto itsnormalcolor.Watergushedfromhermouthlikeshe’dturnedintoahumanfountain.Lookingbackonit,Isupposethatwasprettygross,butatthetimeIwastoorelievedtocare.

Fromthesurfaceoftheriverrosethewateryformofawomaninabluedress.MostEgyptiangodsgrewweakinrunningwater,butNephthyswasclearlyanexception.Sheglowedwithpower.Sheworea

silverEgyptiancrownonherlongblackhair.HerregalfaceremindedmeofIsis,butthiswomanhadagentlersmileandkindereyes.

“Hello,Bes.”Hervoicewassoftandrustling,likeabreezethroughtherivergrass.“Nephthys,”saidthedwarf.“Longtime.”ThewatergoddesslookeddownatZia,whowasshiveringinmyarms,stillgaspingforbreath.“Iamsorryforusingherasahost,”Nephthyssaid.“Itwasapoorchoice,whichalmostdestroyedus

both.Guardherwell,CarterKane.Shehasagoodheart,andanimportantdestiny.”“Whatdestiny?”Iasked.“HowdoIprotecther?”Insteadofanswering,thespiritofNephthysmeltedintotheNile.Besgruntedwithapproval.“TheNile’swheresheshouldbe.That’sherproperbody.”Ziasputteredanddoubledover.“Shestillcan’tbreathe!”IdidtheonlythingIcouldthinkof.Itriedmouth-to-mouthresuscitation.Yes,okay,Iknowhowthatsounds,butIwasn’tthinkingstraight.[Stoplaughing,Sadie.]Honestly,Iwasn’ttryingtotakeadvantage.Iwasjusttryingtohelp.Ziadidn’tseeitthatway.Shepunchedmeinthechestsohard,Imadeasoundlikeasqueakytoy.

Thensheturnedtoonesideandretched.Ididn’tthinkmybreathwasthatbad.Whenshefocusedonmeagain,hereyesblazedwithanger—justlikeoldtimes.“Don’tyoudarekissme!”shemanaged.“Iwasn’t—Ididn’t—”“Where’sIskandar?”shedemanded.“Ithought…”Hereyeslosttheirfocus.“Ihadadreamthat…”

Shestartedtotremble.“EternalEgypt,he’snot…Hecan’tbe—”“Zia—”Itriedtoputmyhandonhershoulder,butshepushedmeaway.Sheturnedtowardtheriver

andbegantosob,herfingersclawingthemud.Iwantedtohelpher.Icouldn’tstandtoseeherinpain.ButIlookedatBes,andhetappedhisbloody

nose,asifwarningme:Goslow,orshe’llgiveyouoneofthese.“Zia,we’vegotalottotalkabout,”Isaid,tryingnottosoundheartbroken.“Let’sgetyouawayfrom

theriver.”

Shesatonthestepsofherowntombandhuggedherarms.Herclothesandhairwerestartingtodry,butinspiteofthewarmnightandthedrywindfromthedesert,shestilltrembled.

Atmyrequest,Besbroughtupherstaffandwandfromthetomb,alongwiththecrookandflail,buthedidn’tlookhappyaboutit.Hehandledtheitemsasiftheyweretoxic.

I triedtoexplainthingstoZia:about theshabti, Iskandar’sdeath,Desjardins’becoming theChiefLector,andwhathad transpired in the last threemonthssince thebattlewithSet,but I’mnotsurehowmuchsheheard.Shekeptshakingherhead,pressingherhandsoverherears.

“Iskandarcan’tbedead.”Hervoicequavered.“Hewouldn’thave…hewouldn’thavedonethistome.”

“Hewastryingtoprotectyou,”Isaid.“Hedidn’tknowyou’dhavenightmares.I’vebeenlookingforyou—”

“Why?”shedemanded.“Whatdoyouwantfromme?IrememberyoufromLondon,butafterthat—”“ImetyourshabtiinNewYork.She—you—tookSadieandmetotheFirstNome.Youstartedour

training.WeworkedtogetherinNewMexico,thenattheRedPyramid—”“No.”Sheshuthereyestight.“No,thatwasn’tme.”“Butyoucanrememberwhattheshabtidid.Justtry—”“You’reaKane!”shecried.“You’realloutlaws.Andyou’reherewith—withthat.”Shegesturedat

Bes.“That has a name,”Bes grumbled. “I’m starting towonderwhy I drove halfway acrossEgypt to

wakeyou.”“You’reagod!”Ziasaid.Thensheturnedtome.“Andifyousummonedhim,you’llbeputtodeath!”“Listen,girl,”Bessaid.“YouwerehostingthespiritofNephthys.Soifanyonegetsputtodeath—”Ziasnatchedupherstaff.“Begone!”Fortunately,shewasn’tbacktofullstrength.ShemanagedtoshootaweakcolumnoffireatBes’s

face,butthedwarfgodeasilyswattedtheflamesaside.Igrabbedtheendofherstaff.“Zia,stop!He’snottheenemy.”“CanIpunchher?”Besasked.“Youpunchedme,kid.Seemsonlyfair.”“Nopunching,” I said. “Noblastingwith flames.Zia,we’reon the sameside.Theequinoxstarts

tomorrowatsunset,andApophiswillbreakoutofhisprison.Hemeans todestroyyou.We’rehere torescueyou.”

ThenameApophishit her hard. She struggled to breathe, as if her lungswere fillingwithwateragain.“No.No,itisn’tpossible.WhyshouldIbelieveyou?”

“Because…”Ihesitated.WhatcouldIsay?Becausewe’dfallenforeachother threemonthsago?Becausewe’vebeen through somuch together and saved eachother’s lives?Thosememoriesweren’thers.Sherememberedme—sortof.Butourtimetogetherwaslikeamovieshe’dwatched,withanactressplayingherrole,doingthingssheneverwould’vedone.

“Youdon’tknowme,”shesaidbitterly.“Now,go,beforeI’mforcedtofightyou.I’llmakemyownwaybacktotheFirstNome.”

“Maybeshe’sright,kid,”Bessaid.“Weshouldleave.We’veworkedenoughmagicheretosendupallkindsofalarmbells.”

Iclenchedmyfists.Myworstfearshadcometrue.Ziadidn’tlikeme.Everythingwe’dsharedhadcrumbledwithherceramicreplica.ButasImayhavementioned,IgetstubbornwhenI’mtoldIcan’tdosomething.

“I’m not leaving you.” I gestured at the ruins of her village. “Zia, this place was destroyed byApophis.Itwasn’tanaccident.Itwasn’tyourdad’sfault.TheSerpentwastargetingyou.Iskandarraisedyoubecausehesensedyouhadanimportantdestiny.Hehidyouwiththepharaoh’scrookandflailforthesamereason—notjustbecauseyouwerehostingagoddess,butbecausehewasdyingandhewasafraidhewouldn’tbeabletoprotectyouanymore.Idon’tknowwhatyourdestinyis,exactly,but—”

“Stop!” She reignited the tip of her staff. It blazedmore brightly this time. “You’re twistingmythoughts.You’rejustlikethenightmares.”

“You know I’m not.” I probably should’ve shut up, but I couldn’t believe Zia would actuallyincinerateme.“Beforehedied,Iskandarrealizedtheoldwayshadtobebroughtback.That’swhyheletSadieandmelive.Godsandthemagicianshavetoworktogether.You—yourshabtirealizedthat,whenwefoughttogetherattheRedPyramid.”

“Kid,”Bessaidmoreurgently.“Wereallyshouldgo.”“Comewithus,”ItoldZia.“Iknowyou’vealwaysfeltalone.YouneverhadanyonebutIskandar.I

getthat,butI’myourfriend.Wecanprotectyou.”“Nooneprotectsme!”Sheshottoherfeet.“IamascribeintheHouseofLife!”Flamesshotfromherstaff.Igrabbedformywand,butofcourseI’dlostitintheriver.Instinctively

myhandsclosedaroundthesymbolsofthepharaoh—theshepherd’scrookandthewarflail.IheldthemupinadefensiveX,andZia’sstaffshatteredinstantly.Thefiredissipated.

Ziastumbledbackward,smokecurlingfromherhands.Shestaredatmeinabsoluteshock.“YoudaretousethesymbolsofRa?”Iprobablylookedjustassurprised.“I—Ididn’tmeanto!Ijustwanttotalk.You’vegottobehungry.

We’vegotfoodandwaterbackatthepickuptruck—”“Carter!”Bestensed.“Something’swrong…”He turned too late.Ablindingwhite light exploded aroundhim.When the spots cleared frommy

eyes,Beswasfrozeninacageofbarsglowinglikefluorescenttubes.StandingnexttohimwerethetwopeopleIleastwantedtosee:

MichelDesjardinsandVladtheInhaler.Desjardinslookedevenolderthanhehadinmyvision.Hisgrayinghairandforkedbeardwerelong

andunkempt.Hiscream-coloredrobeshunglooselyonhim.Theleopard-skincloakoftheChiefLectorwasslippingoffhisleftshoulder.

VladMenshikov,ontheotherhand, lookedwell restedandreadyforagoodgameofTorture-the-Kane.Heworeafreshwhitelinensuitandcarriedanewserpentstaff.Hissilversnakenecklaceglintedagainsthistie.Onhiscurlygrayhairsatawhitefedora,probablytocovertheheadinjuriesSethadgivenhim.He smiled as if hewere delighted to seeme,whichmight’ve been convincing—except he didn’thave his sunglasses anymore. Through thewreckage of scar tissue and redwelts, those horrible eyesgleamedwithhatred.

“AsItoldyou,ChiefLector,”Menshikovrasped,“Kane’snextmovewouldbetofindthispoorgirlandattempttoturnher.”

“Desjardins,listen,”Isaid.“Menshikov’satraitor.HesummonedSet.He’stryingtofreeApophis—”

“Yousee?”Menshikovcried.“AsIpredicted,theboytriestoblamehisillegalmagiconme.”“What?”Isaid.“No!”TheRussian turned to examineBes,whowas still frozen inhisglowingcage. “CarterKane,you

claimtobeinnocent,andyetwefindyouhereconsortingwithgods.Whohavewehere?Besthedwarf!Fortunately,mygrandfathertaughtmeanexcellentbindingspellforthisparticularcreature.Grandfatheralsotaughtmemanyspellsoftormentwhichwere…quiteeffectiveonthedwarfgod.I’vealwayswantedtotrythem.”

Desjardinswrinkled his nose in distaste, but I couldn’t tell whether it was because ofme or ofMenshikov.

“CarterKane,”said theChiefLector,“Iknewyoudesired thepharaoh’s throne. Iknewyouwerescheming with Horus. But now I find you holding the crook and flail of Ra, which were recentlydiscoveredtobemissingfromourvaults.Evenforyou,thisisabrazenactofaggression.”

Ilookeddownattheweaponsinmyhands.“It’snotlikethat.Ijustfoundthem…”Istopped.Icouldn’ttellhimthesymbolshadbeenburiedwithZia.Evenifhebelievedme,itmight

getZiaintrouble.DesjardinsnoddedasifI’dconfessed.Tomysurprise,helookedalittlesadaboutit.“AsIthought.

Amos assuredmeyouwere an honorable servant ofMa’at. Instead, I find you are both a godling andthief.”

“Zia.” I turned toward her. “You’ve got to listen. You’re in danger. Menshikov is working forApophis.He’llkillyou.”

Menshikovdidagoodjoboflookingoffended.“WhywouldIwishtoharmher?IsensesheisfreeofNephthysnow.It’snotherfaultthegoddessinvadedherform.”HeheldouthishandtoZia.“Iamgladtoseeyousafe,child.Youarenot toblameforIskandar’sodddecisions inhis finaldays—hidingyouhere,softeninghisattitude toward theseKanecriminals.Comeawayfromthe traitor.Comehomewithus.”

Ziahesitated.“Ihad…Ihadstrangedreams….”“Youareconfused,”Desjardinssaidgently.“Thisisnatural.Yourshabtiwasrelayingitsmemories

toyou.YousawCarterKaneandhissistermakeapactwithSetattheRedPyramid.Ratherthandestroy

theRedLord,theylethimgo.Doyouremember?”Ziastudiedmewarily.“Rememberwhywedidit,”Ipleaded.“Chaosisrising.Apophiswillbreakfreeinlessthantwenty-

fourhours.Zia…I…”Thewordsstuckinmythroat.IwantedtotellherhowIfeltabouther,buthereyeshardenedlike

amber.“Idon’tknowyou,”shemurmured.“I’msorry.”Menshikovsmiled.“Ofcourseyoudon’t,child.Youhavenobusinesswithtraitors.Now,withLord

Desjardins’permission,wewillbringthisyounghereticbacktotheFirstNome,wherehewillbegivenafairtrial”—Menshikovturnedtowardme,hisruinedeyesburningwithtriumph—“andthen,executed.”

SADIE

15.CamelsAreEvil…

YES,CARTER,THEWHOLEBUSINESSwiththewaterdemonsmust’vebeenhorrible.ButIfeelno sympathyforyou,as1)youbroughtthattripentirelyonyourself,and2)whileyouwererescuingZia,Iwasdealingwithcamels.

Camelsaredisgusting.YoumaythinkBut,Sadie,theseweremagicalcamels,summonedbyoneofWalt’samulets.Clever

Walt!Surelymagiccamelsarenotasbadasnormalcamels.I can now attest that magic camels spit like, poo like, drool like, bite like, eat like, and, most

disgustingly,smelllikenormalcamels.Ifanything,theirdisgustingnessismagicallyenhanced.We didn’t start with the camels, of course. We worked our way up to them in a series of

progressively more horrible modes of transportation. First we took a bus to a small town west ofAlexandria—a buswithout air conditioning, packedwithmenwho had not discovered the benefits ofunderarmdeodorant.ThenwehiredadrivertotakeustoBahariya—adriverwhofirsthadthenervetoplayABBA’sgreatesthitsandeatrawonions,thendroveustothemiddleofnowhereand—surprise!—introducedus tohis friends, thebandits,whowerekeen to robdefenselessAmerican teenagers. Iwasdelighted toshowthemhowmystaff turned intoa largehungry lion.Asfaras Iknow, thebanditsanddriverarestillrunning.However,thecarhadstopped,andnoamountofmagicwouldrevivetheengine.

At that point,we decided itwas best to stay off the grid. I could dealwith dirty looks from thelocals.Icoulddealwithattractingattentionasanoddity—anAmerican/Britishgirlwithpurple-streakedhair,travelingalonewithaboywhodidnotlooklikeherbrother.Infact,thatfairlywelldescribedmylife.Butafterthehighwayrobberyincident,WaltandIrealizedjusthowmuchthelocalswerewatchingus,markingusasatarget.Ihadnodesiretobesingledoutbymorebandits,orEgyptianpolice,or,evenworse,anymagicianswhomightbelurkingundercover.Sowesummonedthemagiccamels,charmedahandfulofsandtopointthewaytoBahariya,andsetoutacrossthedesert.

Howwasthedesert,Sadie?Youmightwonder.Thanksforasking.Itwashot.Andanother thing:Whydodesertshave tobe sobloodyhuge?Whycan’t theybea fewhundred

meterswide, just enough to giveyou the ideaof sandy, dry, andmiserable, thenyield to someproperlandscape,likeameadowwithariver,orahighstreetwithshops?

No such luck for us.Thedesertwent on forever. I could imagineSet, the godof thewastelands,laughingatusaswetrudgedoverendlessdunes.Ifthiswashishome,Ididn’tthinkmuchofthewayhe’ddecorated.

I namedmycamelKatrina.Shewas anatural disaster.She slobbered everywhere and seemed tothinkthepurplestreakinmyhairwassomekindofexoticfruit.Shewasobsessedwithtryingtoeatmyhead.InamedWalt’scamelHindenburg.Hewasalmostas largeasazeppelinanddefinitelyasfullofgas.

Aswerodesidebyside,Waltseemedlostinthought,peeringatthehorizon.He’drushedtomyaidin Alexandria without hesitation. As I’d suspected, our shen amulets were connected. With a littleconcentration,I’dbeenabletosendhimamentalmessageaboutourpredicament.Withabitmoreeffort,I’dbeenabletoliterallypullhimthroughtheDuattomyside.Quiteahandymagicitem:instanthotguy.

Oncehere,though,he’dgrownincreasinglyquietanduncomfortable.Hewasdressedlikeanormal

American teenonanoutdoorexcursion—ablackworkout top that fithimquitewell,hikingpants, andboots.But ifyou lookedmoreclosely,youcould tellhe’dcomeequippedwitheverymagic itemhe’devermade.Aroundhisneckhungaveritablezooofanimalamulets.Three ringsglintedoneachhand.AroundhiswaistwasacordedbeltI’dneverseenbefore,soIassumedithadmagicpowers.Healsocarriedabackpack,nodoubtstuffedwithmorehandybitsandbobs.Despitethispersonalarsenal,Waltseemedawfullynervous.

“Lovelyweather,”Iprompted.Hefrowned,comingoutofhisdaze.“Sorry.Iwas…thinking.”“You know, sometimes talking helps. For instance, oh, I don’t know. If I had a major problem,

somethinglife-threatening,andI’donlyconfidedtoJaz…andifBesknewwhatwasgoingon,butwasn’ttelling…and if I’d agreed to come on an adventure with a good friend, and had hours to chat as wecrossedthedesert,Imightbetemptedtotellherwhatwaswrong.”

“Hypothetically,”hesaid.“Yes.And if thisgirlwere the lastpersononearth toknowwhatwaswrongwithme,and really

cared…well, I can imagine she’d get quite frustrated at being kept in the dark. And she mighthypotheticallystrangleyou—Imeanme.Hypothetically.”

Waltmanaged a faint smile. Though I can’t say his eyesmeltedme likeAnubis’s, he did have agorgeous face. He looked nothing like my father, but he had the same sort of strength and ruggedhandsomeness—akind of gentle gravity thatmademe feel safer, and a bitmore firmly planted on theearth.

“It’shardformetotalkabout,”hesaid.“Ididn’tmeantohideanythingfromyou.”“Fortunately,it’snottoolate.”Ourcamelsploddedalong.Katrina tried tokiss,orpossibly spitonHindenburg, andHindenburg

fartedinresponse.Ifoundthisadepressingcommentaryonboy-girlrelationships.AtlastWaltsaid,“Ithastodowiththebloodofthepharaohs.Youguys—ImeantheKanes—you

combinetwopowerfulroyallines,NarmerandRamessestheGreat,right?”“SoI’vebeentold.SadietheGreatdoeshaveaniceringtoit.”Waltdidn’trespondtothat.Perhapshewasimaginingmeasapharaoh,whichI’lladmitisarather

frighteningconcept.“Myroyalline…”Hehesitated.“HowmuchdoyouknowaboutAkhenaton?”“Offthetopofmyhead,I’dsayhewasapharaoh.ProbablyofEgypt.”Waltlaughed,whichwasgood.IfIcouldkeephismoodfromgettingtooserious,itmightbeeasier

forhimtoopenup.“Topoftheclass,”hesaid.“Akhenatonwasthepharaohwhodecidedtodoawaywithalltheold

godsandjustworshipAten,thesun.”“Oh…right.”Thestoryvaguely rangabell,whichalarmedme,as itmademe feel likealmostas

muchofanEgyptiangeekasCarter.“He’sthechapwhomovedthecapital,eh?”Waltnodded.“HebuiltanentirelynewcityatAmarna.Hewaskindofaweirddude,buthewasthe

first onewhohad the idea that theoldgodswerebad.He tried toban theirworship, shut down theirtemples.Hewantedtoworshiponlyonegod,buthemadeastrangechoicefortheonegod.Hethoughtitwas the sun.Not the sun godRa—theactual sun disk, Aten. Anyway, the old priests andmagicians,especiallythepriestsofAmun-Ra—”

“AnothernameforRa?”Iguessed.“Moreorless,”Waltsaid.“SothepriestsofAmun-Ra’stempleweren’ttoohappywithAkhenaton.

After he died, they defaced his statues, tried to wipe out his name from all themonuments and stuff.Amarnawascompletelyabandoned.Egyptwentbacktotheoldways.”

Ilet thatsinkin.ThousandsofyearsbeforeIskandarhadissuedaruleexilingthegods,apharaoh

hadhadthesameidea.“Andthiswasyourgreat-great-whatevergrandfather?”Iasked.Waltwrappedthecamel’sreinsaroundhiswrist.“I’moneofAkhenaton’sdescendants.Yeah.We’ve

got the same aptitude formagic asmost royal lines, but…we’ve got problems, too.The godsweren’thappywithAkhenaton,asyoucanimagine.HissonTutankhamen—”

“KingTut?”Iasked.“You’rerelatedtoKingTut?”“Unfortunately,”Waltsaid.“Tutankhamenwasthefirsttosufferthecurse.Hediedatnineteen.And

hewasoneoftheluckierones.”“Hangon.Whatcurse?”That’swhenKatrinacametoascreechinghalt.Youmayprotestthatcamelscan’tscreech,butyou’re

quitewrong.Asshereachedthetopofamassivesanddune,Katrinamadeawetscreechysoundmuchworsethanacar’sbrakes.Hindenburgcametomoreofafartinghalt.

I lookeddown theother sideof thedune.Belowus, in themiddleof thedesert, ahazyvalleyofgreenfieldsandpalmtreessprawledout,roughlythesizeofcentralLondon.Birdsflewoverhead.Smalllakessparkled in theafternoonsun.Smokerose fromcookingfiresata fewdwellingsdottedhereandthere.Aftersolonginthedesert,myeyeshurtfromlookingatallthecolors,likewhenyoucomeoutofadarkcinemaintoabrightafternoon.

I understood how ancient travelers must’ve felt, discovering an oasis like this after days in thewilderness.ItwastheclosestthingI’deverseentotheGardenofEden.

Thecamelshadn’tstoppedtoadmirethebeautifulscenery,though.Atrailoftinyfootprintswoundthroughthesand,allthewayfromtheedgeoftheoasistoourdune.Andcomingupthehillwasaverydisgruntled-lookingcat.

“It’sabouttime,”saidthecat.IslidoffKatrina’sbackandstaredatthecatinamazement.Notbecauseitspoke—I’dseenstranger

things—butbecauseIrecognizedthevoice.“Bast?”Isaid.“Whatareyoudoinginsidethat—whatisthat,exactly?”Thecatstoodonitshindlegsandspreaditsfrontpawslike:Voilà!“AnEgyptianmau,ofcourse.

Beautifulleopardspots,bluishfur—”“Itlookslikeit’sbeenthroughablender!”Iwasn’t justbeingharsh.Thecatwas terriblybeatenup.Largechunksof its furweremissing. It

mightoncehavebeenbeautiful,butIwasmoreinclinedtothinkithadalwaysbeenferal.Itsremainingfurwasdirtyandmatted,anditseyeswereswollenandscarredalmostasbadlyasVladMenshikov’s.

Bast—or thecat—orwhateverwas incharge—droppedbackonall foursandsniffed indignantly.“Sadie,dear,Ibelievewe’vetalkedaboutbattlescarsoncats.Thisoldtomisawarrior!”

Awarriorwholoses,Ithought,butIdecidednottosaythat.WaltslidoffHindenburg’sback.“Bast,how—whereareyou?”“Still deep in theDuat.” She sighed. “It’ll be another day at least before I can findmyway out.

Thingsdownhereareabit…chaotic.”“Areyouallright?”Iasked.Thecatnodded.“Ijusthavetobecareful.Theabyssisteemingwithenemies.Alltheregularpaths

andriverwaysareguarded.I’llhavetotakealongdetourtogetbacksafely,andsincetheequinoxstartstomorrowatsunset,thetimingisgoingtobetight.IthoughtI’dbettersendyouamessage.”

“So…”Waltknithiseyebrows.“Thatcatisn’treal?”“Ofcourseit’sreal,”Bastsaid.“Justcontrolledbyasliverofmyba.Icanspeakthroughcatseasily,

youknow,atleastforafewminutesatatime,butthisisthefirsttimeyou’vebeenclosetoone.Didyourealizethat?Unbelievable!Youreallyneedtohangaroundmorecats.Bytheway,thismauwillneeda

rewardwhenI’mgone.Somenicefish,perhaps,orsomemilk—”“Bast,”Iinterrupted.“Yousaidyouhadamessage?”“Right.Apophisiswaking.”“Weknewthat!”“Butit’sworsethanwethought,”shesaid.“He’sgotalegionofdemonsworkingonhiscage,and

he’s timinghisrelease tocoincidewithyourwakingRa. Infact,he’scountingonyour freeingRa. It’spartofhisplan.”

Myheadfeltlikeitwasturningtojelly,thoughthatmayhavebeenbecauseKatrinathecamelwassuckingonmyhair.“Apophiswantsustofreehisarchenemy?Thatmakesnosense.”

“Ican’texplainit,”Bastsaid,“butasIgotclosertohiscage,Icouldgleanhisthoughts.Isupposebecausewefoughtsomanycenturieswehavesomesortofconnection.Atanyrate, theequinoxbeginstomorrowatsunset,asIsaid.Thefollowingdawn,themorningofMarchtwenty-first,Apophisintendstorise from theDuat.Heplans to swallow the sun anddestroy theworld.Andhebelievesyourplan toawakenRawillhelphimdothat.”

Waltfrowned.“IfApophiswantsustosucceed,whyishetryingsohardtostopus?”“Ishe?”Iasked.Adozensmallthingsthathadbotheredmeoverthepastfewdayssuddenlyclickedtogether:whyhad

ApophisonlyscaredCarterintheBrooklynMuseum,whentheArrowsofSekhmetcouldhavedestroyedhim?Howhadweescapedsoeasily fromSt.Petersburg?WhyhadSetvolunteered the locationof thethirdscroll?

“Apophiswantschaos,”Isaid.“Hewantstodividehisenemies.IfRacomesback,itcouldthrowusintoacivilwar.Themagiciansarealreadydivided.Thegodswouldbefightingeachother.Therewouldbenoclearruler.AndifRaisn’treborninastrongnewform—ifhe’sasoldandfeebleasIsawinmyvision—”

“Soweshouldn’tawakenRa?”Waltasked.“That’snottheanswereither,”Isaid.Basttiltedherhead.“I’mconfused.”Mymindwasracing.Katrinathecamelwasstillchewingonmyhair,turningitintoaslimymess,but

Ihardlynoticed.“Wehavetosticktotheplan.WeneedRa.Ma’atandChaoshavetobalance,right?IfApophisrises,Rahastoaswell.”

Walttwistedhisrings.“ButifApophiswantsRaawakened,ifhethinksitwillhelphimdestroytheworld—”

“WehavetobelieveApophisiswrong.”IrememberedsomethingJaz’srenhadtoldme:WechoosetobelieveinMa’at.

“Apophiscan’timaginethatanyonecouldunitethegodsandmagicians,”Isaid.“HethinksthereturnofRawillweakenus even further.Wehave toprovehimwrong.Wehave tomakeorder fromchaos.That’swhatEgypthasalwaysdone.It’sarisk—ahugerisk—butifwedonothingbecausewefearwe’llfail,weplayrightintoApophis’shands.”

It’shardtogivearousingspeechwithacamellickingyourhead,butWaltnodded.Thecatdidn’tlookquitesoenthusiastic.Thenagain,catsrarelydo.

“Don’tunderestimateApophis,”Bastsaid.“Youhaven’tfoughthim.Ihave.”“Whichiswhyweneedyoubackquickly.”ItoldheraboutVladMenshikov’sconversationwithSet,

andhisplanstodestroyBrooklynHouse.“Bast,ourfriendsareinterribledanger.MenshikovispossiblyevenmoreinsanethanAmosrealizes.Assoonasyou’reable,gotoBrooklyn.Ihaveafeelingourlaststandisgoingtobethere.We’llgetthethirdscrollandfindRa.”

“Idon’tlikelaststands,”thecatsaid.“Butyou’reright.Itsoundsbad.Bytheway,whereareBesandCarter?”Shelookedsuspiciouslyatthecamels.“Youdidn’tturnthemintothose,didyou?”

“Theideaisappealing,”Isaid.“But,no.”ItoldherbrieflywhatCarterwasupto.Basthissedwithdistaste.“Afoolishdetour!I’llhavewordswiththatdwarfaboutlettingyougooff

onyourown.”“WhatamI,invisible?”Waltprotested.“Sorry, dear, I didn’t mean—” The cat’s eyes twitched. It coughed like it had a hairball. “My

connectionisfailing.Goodluck,Sadie.Thebestentrancetothetombsisonasmalldatefarmjusttothesoutheast.Lookforablackwatertower.AnddowatchoutfortheRomans.They’requite—”

Thecatpuffedupitstail.Thenitblinkedandlookedaroundinconfusion.“WhatRomans?”Iasked.“They’requitewhat?”“Mrow.”Thecatstaredatmewithanexpressionthatsaid:Whoareyouandwhereisthefood?Iswatted thecamel’snoseawayfrommyslimyhair.“Comeon,Walt,”Igrumbled.“Let’sgofind

somemummies.”

Weprovidedthecatwithbitsofbeefjerkyandsomewaterfromoursupplies.Itwasn’tasgoodasfishandmilk,butthecatseemedhappyenough.Asitwasinsightoftheoasisandobviouslyknewitswayaroundbetter thanwedid,we left it tofinish itsmeal.Walt turned thecamelsback intoamulets, thankgoodness,andwetrudgedintoBahariyaonfoot.

Thedatefarmwasn’tdifficulttofind.Theblackwatertowersatattheedgeoftheproperty,anditwasthetalleststructureinsight.Wemadeourwaytowardit,weavingthroughacresofpalmtrees,whichprovided some shade from the sun.An adobe farmhouse stood in the distance, butwe didn’t see anypeople.ProbablytheEgyptiansknewbetterthantobeoutintheafternoonheat.

Whenwereachedthewatertower,Ididn’tseeanyobvioustombentrance.Thetowerlookedquiteold—fourrustysteelpostsholdingaroundtankthesizeofagarageaboutfifteenmetersintheair.Thetank had a slow leak. Every few secondswater dropped from the sky and smacked against the hard-packedsandunderneath.Therewasn’tmuchelseinsightexceptformorepalmtrees,afewtarnishedfarmtools, and a weathered plywood sign lying on the ground. The signwas spray-painted in Arabic andEnglish, probably from some attempt by the farmer to sell hiswares in themarket. TheEnglish read:Dates—bestprice.ColdBebsi.

“Bebsi?”Iasked.“Pepsi,”Waltsaid.“IreadaboutthatontheInternet.There’sno‘p’inArabic.Everyoneherecalls

sodaBebsi.”“SoyouhavetohaveBebsiwithyourbizza?”“Brobably.”I snorted. “If this is a famous dig site, shouldn’t there bemore activity? Archaeologists? Ticket

booths?Souvenirmerchants?”“MaybeBastsentustoasecretentrance,”Waltsaid.“Betterthansneakingpastabunchofguards

andcaretakers.”Asecretentrancesoundedquiteintriguing,butunlessthewatertowerwasamagicteleporter,orone

ofthedatetreeshadaconcealeddoor,Iwasn’tsurewherethisoh-so-helpfulentrancemightbe.IkickedtheBebsisign.Therewasnothingunderneathexceptmoresand,slowlyturningtomudfromthedrip,drip,dripoftheleakytower.

ThenIlookedmorecloselyatthewetspotontheground.“Hang on.” I knelt. The water was pooling in a little canal, as if the sand were seeping into a

subterraneancrack.Thecrevicewasaboutameterlongandnowiderthanapencil,butmuchtoostraighttobenatural.Iduginthesand.Sixcentimetersdown,myfingernailsscrapedstone.

“Helpmeclearthis,”ItoldWalt.

Aminutelaterwe’duncoveredaflatpavingstoneaboutonemetersquare.Itriedtoworkmyfingersunderthewetedges,butthestonewastoothickandmuchtooheavytolift.

“Wecanusesomethingasalever,”Waltsuggested.“Pryitup.”“Or,”Isaid,“standback.”Waltlookedreadytoprotest,butwhenIbroughtoutmystaff,heknewenoughtogetoutoftheway.

With my new understanding of godly magic, I didn’t so much think about what I needed as feel aconnectiontoIsis.Irememberedatimewhenshe’dfoundherhusband’scoffingrownintothetrunkofacypress tree,and inherangeranddesperationsheblew the treeapart. Ichanneled thoseemotionsandpointedatthestone.“Ha-di!”

Goodnews:thespellworkedevenbetterthaninSt.Petersburg.Thehieroglyphglowedattheendofmystaff,andthestonewasblastedtorubble,revealingadarkholeunderneath.

Bad news: that’s not all I destroyed. Around the hole, the ground began to crumble.Walt and Iscrambledbackwardasmorestonesfellintothepit,andIrealizedI’djustdestabilizedtheentireroofofasubterraneanroom.Theholewideneduntil it reached thesupport legsof thewater tower.Thewatertowerbegantocreakandsway.

“Run!”Waltyelled.Wedidn’tstopuntilwewerehidingbehindapalmtreethirtymetersaway.Thewatertowerspranga

hundreddifferent leaks,wobbledbackand forth likeadrunkenman, then fell towardusandshattered,soakingusfromheadtotoeandsendingafloodthroughtherowsofpalmtrees.

Thenoisewassodeafening,itmust’vebeenheardthroughouttheoasis.“Oops,”Isaid.WaltlookedatmelikeIwasmad.IsupposeIwasguiltyascharged.Butit’sjustsobloodytempting

toblowthingsup,isn’tit?Weran to theSadieKaneMemorialCrater. Itwasnowthesizeofaswimmingpool.Fivemeters

down,underapileofsandandrocks,wererowsofmummies,allwrappedinoldclothandlaidoutonstoneslabs.Themummieswerenowflattened, I’mafraid,but Icould tell they’dbeenbrightlypaintedwithred,blue,andgold.

“Goldenmummies.”Waltlookedhorrified.“Partofthetombsystemthathasn’tbeenexcavatedyet.Youjustruined—”

“IdidsayOops.Now,helpmedownthere,beforetheownerofthiswatertowershowsupwithashotgun.”

SADIE

16.…ButNotasEvilasRomans

TOBEFAIR,THEMUMMIESinthatparticularroomweremostlyruinedalready,thankstothemoisturefromtheleakingtowerabove.Justaddwatertomummiesforatrulyhorriblesmell.

Weclimbedovertherubbleandfoundacorridorleadingdeeperunderground.Icouldn’ttellwhetheritwas natural orman-made, but it snaked a good fortymeters through solid rock before opening intoanother burial chamber. This room had not been damaged bywater. Everythingwas remarkably wellpreserved.Walthadbroughttorches[flashlights,foryouAmericans],andinthedimlight,onstoneslabsandinnichescarvedalongthewalls,gold-paintedmummiesglittered.Therewereatleastahundredinthisroomalone,andmorecorridorsledoffineachdirection.

Walt shined his light on three mummies lying together on a central dais. Their bodies werecompletelywrappedinlinen,sotheylookedratherlikebowlingpins.Theirlikenesseswerepaintedonthe linen inmeticulousdetail—handscrossedover their chests, jewelryadorning theirnecks,Egyptiankiltandsandals,andahostofprotectivehieroglyphsandimagesofthegodsinaborderoneachside.AllthiswastypicalEgyptianart,buttheirfacesweredoneinacompletelydifferentstyle—realisticportraitsthatlookedcut-and-pastedontothemummies’heads.Ontheleftwasamanwithathin,beardedfaceandsaddarkeyes.Ontherightwasabeautifulwomanwithcurlyauburnhair.Whatreallypulledatmyheart,though,wasthemummyinthemiddle.Itsbodywastiny—obviouslyachild.Itsportraitshowedaboyofaboutsevenyearsold.Hehadtheman’seyesandthewoman’shair.

“Afamily,”Waltguessed.“Buriedtogether.”Therewas something tucked under the child’s right elbow—a smallwooden horse, possibly his

favorite toy.Eventhoughthisfamilyhadbeendeadfor thousandsofyears, Icouldn’thelpgettingabitteary-eyed.Itwassobloodysad.

“Howdidtheydie?”Iwondered.Fromthecorridordirectlyinfrontofus,avoiceechoed,“Thewastingdisease.”Mystaffwasinstantlyinmyhand.Walttrainedhistorchonthedoorway,andaghoststeppedintothe

room.AtleastIassumedhewasaghost,becausehewassee-through.Hewasaheavyoldermanwithshort-croppedwhitehair,bulldog jowls,andacrossexpression.HeworeRoman-style robesandkohleyeliner,sohe lookedrather likeWinstonChurchill—if theoldprimeministerhad thrownawild togapartyandgottenhisfacepainted.

“Newlydead?”Heeyeduswarily.“Haven’tseenanynewarrivalsinalongtime.Whereareyourbodies?”

WaltandIglancedateachother.“Actually,”Isaid,“we’rewearingthem.”Theghost’seyebrowsshotup.“Diimmortales!You’realive?”“Sofar,”Waltsaid.“Thenyou’vebroughtofferings?”Themanrubbedhishands.“Oh, theysaidyouwouldcome,but

we’vewaitedages!Wherehaveyoubeen?”“Um…”Ididn’twanttodisappointaghost,especiallyashewasbeginningtoglowmorebrightly,

whichinmagicisoftenapreludetoexploding.“Perhapsweshouldintroduceourselves.I’mSadieKane.ThisisWalt—”

“Ofcourse!Youneedmynameforthespells.”Theghostclearedhisthroat.“IamAppiusClaudius

Iratus.”IgotthefeelingIwassupposedtobeimpressed.“Right.That’snotEgyptian,Igather?”Theghostlookedoffended.“Roman,ofcourse.FollowingthosecursedEgyptiancustomsishowwe

allendedupheretobeginwith!BadenoughIgotstationedinthisgod-forsakenoasis—asifRomeneedsan entire legion to guard some date farms! Then I had the bad luck to fall ill. Told my wife on mydeathbed: ‘Lobelia, an old-fashioned Roman burial. None of this local nonsense.’ But no! She neverlistened.Hadtomummifyme,somybaisstuckhereforever.Women!SheprobablymovedbacktoRomeanddiedintheproperway.”

“Lobelia?” Iasked,because really Ihadn’theardmuchafter that.Whatsortofparentsname theirchildLobelia?

Theghosthuffedandcrossedhisarms.“Butyoudon’twanttohearmerambleon,doyou?YoumaycallmeMadClaude.That’sthetranslationinyourtongue.”

IwonderedhowaRomanghostcouldspeakEnglish—orifIsimplyunderstoodhimthroughsomesortoftelepathy.Eitherway,IwasnotrelievedtofindouthisnamewasMadClaude.

“Um…”Waltraisedhishand.“Areyoumadasinangry?Ormadasincrazy?”“Yes,” Claude said. “Now, about those offerings. I see staffs, wands, and amulets, so I assume

you’repriestswiththelocalHouseofLife?Good,good.Thenyou’llknowwhattodo.”“Whattodo!”Iagreedheartily.“Yes,quite!”Claude’seyesnarrowed.“Oh,Jupiter.You’renovices,aren’tyou?Didthetempleevenexplain the

problemtoyou?”“Um—”Hestormedovertothefamilyofmummieswe’dbeenlookingat.“ThisisLucius,Flavia,andlittle

Purpens.Theydiedofthewastingplague.I’vebeenheresolong,Icouldtellyoupracticallyeveryone’sstory!”

“Theytalktoyou?”Isteppedawayfromthemummyfamily.SuddenlylittlePurpensdidn’tseemsocute.

MadClaudewavedhishand impatiently. “Sometimes,yes.Notasmuchas in theolddays.Theirspiritssleepmostofthetime,now.Thepointis,nomatterhowbadadeaththesepeoplehad,theirfateafterdeathhasbeenworse!Allofus—alltheseRomanslivinginEgypt—gotanEgyptianburial.Localcustoms,localpriests,mummifythebodiesforthenextlife,etcetera.Wethoughtwewerecoveringourbases—tworeligions,twicetheinsurance.Problemwas,youfoolishEgyptianpriestsdidn’tknowwhatyouweredoinganymore!BythetimeweRomanscamealong,mostofyourmagicknowledgewaslost.Butdidyoutellusthat?No!Youwerehappytotakeourcoinsanddoashoddyjob.”

“Ah.”IbackedawayabitmorefromMadClaude,whowasnowglowingquitedangerously.“Well,I’msuretheHouseofLifehasacustomerservicenumberforthat—”

“You can’t go halfwaywith theseEgyptian rituals,” he grumbled. “We ended upwithmummifiedbodiesandeternal souls tethered to them,andnoone followedup!Noonesaid theprayers tohelpusmovetothenextlife.Noonemadeofferingstonourishourbas.DoyouknowhowhungryIam?”

“We’vegotsomebeefjerky,”Waltoffered.“Wecouldn’tgotoPluto’srealmlikegoodRomans,”MadClaudewenton,“becauseourbodieshad

beenpreparedforadifferentafterlife.Wecouldn’tgototheDuat,becauseweweren’tgiventheproperEgyptianrituals.Oursoulswerestuckhere,attachedtothesebodies.Doyouhaveanyideahowboringitisdownhere?”

“So,ifyou’reaba,”Iasked,“whydon’tyouhaveabird’sbody?”“Itoldyou!We’reallmixedup,notpureRomanghost,notproperba.IfIhadwings,believeme,I’d

flyoutofhere!Bytheway,whatyearisit?Who’stheemperornow?”“Oh,hisnameis—”Waltcoughed,thenrushedon:“Youknow,Claude,I’msurewecanhelpyou.”

“Wecan?”Isaid.“Oh,right!Wecan!”Waltnoddedencouragingly.“Thethingis,wehavetofindsomethingfirst.”“Ascroll,”Iputin.“PartoftheBookofRa.”Claudescratchedhisconsiderablejowls.“Andthiswillhelpyousendoursoulstothenextlife?”“Well…”Isaid.“Yes,”Waltsaid.“Possibly,”Isaid.“Wedon’treallyknowuntilwefindit.It’ssupposedtowakeRa,yousee,which

will help the Egyptian gods. I’d think that would improve your chances at getting into the afterlife.Besides,I’mongoodtermswiththeEgyptiangods.Theypopoverforteafromtimetotime.Ifyouhelpedus,Icouldputinaword.”

Honestly, I’d just beenmaking up things to say. I’m sure thiswill surprise you, but I sometimesramblewhenIgetnervous.

[Oh,stoplaughing,Carter.]At any rate,Mad Claude’s expression became shrewder. He studied us as if assessing our bank

accounts.IwonderediftheRomanEmpirehadusedchariotsalesmen,andifMadClaudehadbeenone.IimaginedhimonaRomancommercialinacheapplaidtoga:Imustbecrazytobegivingawaychariotsattheseprices!

“OngoodtermswiththeEgyptiangods,”hemused.“Putinaword,yousay.”ThenheturnedtoWalt.Claude’sexpressionwassocalculating,soeager,itmademyskincrawl.“If

the scroll you seek is ancient, itwould be in the oldest section of the catacombs. Some nativeswereburied there, you know, long before we Romans came along. Their bashave all moved on now. NotroublegettingintotheDuatforthem.Buttheirburialsitesarestillintact,lotsofrelicsandsoon.”

“You’dbewillingtoshowus?”Waltasked,withmuchmoreexcitementthanIcould’vemanaged.“Oh,yes.”MadClaudegaveushisbest“usedchariotsalesman”smile.“Andlater,we’lltalkabout

anappropriatefee,eh?Comealong,myfriends.It’snotfar.”

Notetoself:WhenaghostofferstoguideyoudeeperintoaburialsiteandhisnameincludesthewordMad,it’sbesttosayno.

As we passed through tunnels and chambers,Mad Claude gave us a running commentary on thevariousmummies.Caligula thedatemerchant:“Horriblename!Butonceyou’renamedforanemperor,evenapsychoticone,youcan’tdomuchabout it.Hediedbetting someonehecouldkissa scorpion.”Varenstheslaver:“Disgustingman.Triedtogointothegladiatorbusiness.Ifyougiveaslaveasword,well…youcanguesshowhedied!”Octaviathelegioncommander’swife:“Wentcompletelynative!Hadhercatmummified.SheevenbelievedshehadthebloodofthepharaohsandtriedtochannelthespiritofIsis.Herdeath,needlesstosay,waspainful.”

Hegrinnedatmelikethiswasextremelyfunny.Itriednottolookhorrified.Whatstruckmemostwasthesheernumberandvarietyofthemummies.Somewerewrappedinreal

gold.Theirportraitsweresolifelike,theireyesseemedtofollowmeaswepassed.Theysatonornatelycarvedmarbleslabssurroundedbyvaluables:jewelry,vases,evensomeshabti.Othermummieslookedasifnurseryschoolchildrenhadmadetheminartclass.Theywerecrudelywrapped,paintedwithshakyhieroglyphsandlittlestick-figuregods.TheirportraitswerenotmuchbetterthanIcould’vedone—whichistosay,dreadful.Theirbodieswerestuffedthree-deepinshallowniches,orsimplypiledinthecornersoftheroom.

WhenIaskedaboutthem,MadClaudewasdismissive.“Commoners.Wannabes.Didn’thavemoneyforartistsandfuneralrites,sotheytriedthedo-it-yourselfapproach.”

I looked down at the portrait of the nearest mummy, her face a crude finger-painted image. Iwonderedifhergrievingchildrenhadmadeit—onelastgiftfortheirmother.Despitethebadquality,I

founditrathersweet.Theyhadnomoneyandnoartisticskill,butthey’ddonetheirbesttolovinglysendher to theafterlife.Next timeIsawAnubis, Iwouldaskhimabout this.Awomanlike thatdeservedachanceat happiness in thenextworld, even if she couldn’t pay.Wehadquite enough snobbery in thisworldwithoutexportingittothehereafter.

Walttrailedbehindus,notspeaking.He’dshinehislightonthismummyorthat,asifponderingeachone’s fate. Iwondered ifhewas thinkingofKingTut,his famousancestor,whose tombhadbeen in acavernnottoodifferentfromthis.

After severalmore long tunnelsandcrowdedmummyrooms,wearrived inaburialchamber thatwasclearlymucholder.Thewallpaintingshadfaded,buttheylookedmoreauthenticallyEgyptian,withthesideways-walkingpeopleandhieroglyphs thatactually formedwords, rather thansimplyprovidingdecoration.Insteadofrealisticfacialportraits,themummieshadthegenericwide-eyed,smilingfacesI’dseen on most Egyptian death masks. A few had crumbled to dust. Others were encased in stonesarcophagi.

“Natives,” Mad Claude confirmed. “Egyptian nobles from before Rome took over. What you’relookingforshouldbesomewhereinthisarea.”

I scanned the room. The only other doorwaywas blockedwith boulders and debris.WhileWaltbegansearching,IrememberedwhatBeshadsaid—thatthefirsttwoscrollsofRamighthelpmefindthethird. I pulled them from my bag, hoping they would point the way like a dowsing rod, but nothinghappened.

Fromtheothersideoftheroom,Waltcalled,“What’sthis?”Hewasstandinginfrontofsomesortofshrine—anichesetintothewall,withthestatueofaman

wrappedlikeamummy.Thefigurewascarvedfromwood,decoratedwithjewelsandpreciousmetals.Hiswrappings glistened like pearl in the light of the torch.He held a golden staffwith a silverdjedsymbolontop.Aroundhisfeetstoodseveralgoldenrodents—rats,perhaps.Theskinofhisfacegleamedturquoiseblue.

“It’smydad,”Iguessed.“Er…ImeanOsiris,isn’tit?”MadClaudearchedhiseyebrows.“Yourdad?”Fortunately,Waltsavedmefromexplaining.“No,”hesaid.“Lookathisbeard.”Thestatue’sbeardwasratherunusual.Itwaspencilthinfromhissideburnsaroundhisjawline,with

aperfectlystraightbitcomingdownforagoatee—asifsomeonehadtracedthebeardwithagreasepen,thenstuckthepenonhischin.

“Andthecollar,”Waltcontinued.“It’sgota tassel thinghangingdowninback.Youdon’tsee thatwithOsiris.Andthoseanimalsathisfeet…arethoserats?Iremembersomestoryaboutrats—

“Ithoughtyouwerepriests,”MadClaudegrumped.“Obviously,thegodisPtah.”“Ptah?”I’dheardquiteafewoddEgyptiangodnames,butthiswasanewoneforme.“Ptah,sonof

Pitooey?Ishethegodofspitting?”Claudeglaredatme.“Areyoualwayssoirreverent?”“Usually,more.”“Anoviceandaheretic,”hesaid.“Justmyluck.Well,girl,Ishouldn’thavetoteachyouaboutyour

owngods,but as Iunderstand it,Ptahwas thegodof craftsmen.Wecomparedhim toourRomangodVulcan.”

“Thenwhat’shedoinginatomb?”Waltasked.Claudescratchedhisnonexistenthead.“I’veneverbeensure,actually.Youdon’t seehim inmost

Egyptianfuneralrites.”Walt pointed to the statue’s staff. When I looked more closely, I realized the djed symbol was

combinedwithsomethingelse,acurvedtopthatlookedstrangelyfamiliar.

“That’sthesymbolwas,”Waltsaid.“Itmeanspower.Lotsofthegodshadstaffslikethat,butIneverrealizeditlookslike—”

“Yes, yes,” Claude said impatiently. “The priest’s ceremonial knife for opening themouth of thedead.Honestly,youEgyptianpriestsarehopeless.Nowonderweconqueredyousoeasily.”

Myhandactedquiteonitsown,reachingintomybagandbringingouttheblacknetjeribladeAnubishadgivenme.

Mad Claude’s eyes glinted. “Ah, so you’re not hopeless. That’s perfect!With that knife and theproperspell,youshouldbeabletotouchmymummyandreleasemeintotheDuat.”

“No,”Isaid.“No,there’smoretoit.Theknife,theBookofRa,thisstatueofthespitgod.Itallfitstogethersomehow.”

Walt’sfacelitup.“Sadie,Ptahwasmorethanthecraftsmangod,right?Didn’ttheycallhimtheGodofOpening?”

“Um…possibly.”“Ithoughtyoutaughtusthat.OrmaybeitwasCarter.”“Boringbitofinformation?ProbablyCarter.”“Butit’simportant,”Waltinsisted.“Ptahwasacreationgod.Insomelegends,hecreatedthesoulsof

mankindjustbyspeakingaword.Hecouldreviveanysoul,andopenanydoor.”Myeyesdriftedtothedebris-filleddoorway,theonlyotherexitfromtheroom.“Openanydoor?”I held up the two scrolls of Ra and walked toward the collapsed tunnel. The scrolls became

uncomfortablywarm.“Thelastscrollisontheotherside,”Isaid.“Weneedtogetpastthisrubble.”Iheldtheblackknifeinonehandandthescrollsintheother.IspokethecommandforOpen.Nothing

happened.IwentbacktothestatueofPtahandtriedthesamething.Noluck.“Hullo,Ptah?”Icalled.“Sorryaboutthespitcomment.Look,we’retryingtogetthethirdscrollof

Ra,whichisontheotherside,there.Isupposeyouwereplacedheretoopenapath.Sowouldyoumindterribly?”

Stillnothinghappened.MadClaudegrippedthetrimofhistogaasifhewantedtostrangleuswithit.“Look,Idon’tknow

whyyouneedthisscroll tofreeusifyou’vegot theknife.Butwhydon’tyoutryanoffering?Allgodsneedofferings.”

Waltrummagedthroughhissupplies.Heplacedajuicepouchandabitofbeefjerkyatthefootofthestatue.Thestatuedidnothing.Eventhegoldratsathisfeetapparentlydidn’twantourbeefjerky.

“Bloodyspitgod.”Ithrewmyselfdownonthedustyground.Ihadamummyoneithersideofme,butIdidn’tcareanymore.Icouldn’tbelieveweweresoclosetothelastscroll,afterfightingdemons,gods,andRussianassassins,andnowwe’dbeenstoppedbyapileofrocks.

“Ihatetosuggestit,”Waltsaid,“butyoucouldblastthroughwiththeha-dispell.”“Andbringdowntheceilingontopofus?”Isaid.“You’ddie,”Claudeagreed.“Whichisn’tanexperienceI’drecommend.”Waltkneltnexttome.“There’sgottobesomething…”Hetookstockofhisamulets.MadClaudepacedtheroom.“Istilldon’tunderstand.You’repriests.Youhavetheceremonialknife.

Whycan’tyoureleaseus?”“Theknifeisn’tforyou!”Isnapped.“It’sforRa!”WaltandClaudebothstaredatme.Ihadn’trealizeditbefore,butassoonasIspoke,Iknewitwas

thetruth.“Sorry,”Isaid.“ButtheknifeisusedfortheOpeningoftheMouthceremony,tofreeasoul.I’llneed

ittoawakenRa.That’swhyAnubisgaveittome.”“YouknowAnubis!”Claudeclappedwithdelight.“Hecanfreeusall!Andyou—”Hepointedat

Walt.“You’reoneofAnubis’schosen,aren’tyou?Youcangetusmoreknivesifyouneedthem!Isensedthepresenceof thegodaroundyouassoonaswemet.Didyou takehisservicewhenhe realizedyouweredying?”

“Wait…what?”Iasked.Waltwouldn’tmeetmyeyes.“I’mnotapriestofAnubis.”“Butdying?”Ichokedup.“Howareyoudying?”MadClaudelookedincredulous.“Youmeanyoudon’tknow?He’sgottheoldpharaoh’scurse.We

didn’t see itmuch inmy day, but I recognize it, all right. Occasionally a person from one of the oldEgyptianroyallines—”

“Claude,shutup,”Isaid.“Walt,speak.Howdoesthiscursework?”In the dim light, he looked thinner and older.On thewall behind him, his shadow loomed like a

deformedmonster.“Akhenaton’scurserunsinmyfamily,”hesaid.“Kindofageneticdisease.Noteverygeneration,not

everyperson,butwhenitstrikes,it’sbad.Tutdiedatnineteen.Mostoftheothers…twelve,thirteen.I’msixteennow.Mydad…mydadwaseighteen.Ineverknewhim.”

“Eighteen?”Thatalonebroughtupahostofnewquestions,butItriedtostayfocused.“Can’titbecured…?”Guiltwashedoverme,andIfeltlikeatotalimbecile.“Oh,god.That’swhyyouweretalkingtoJaz.She’sahealer.”

Waltnoddedgrimly.“IthoughtshemightknowspellsthatIhadn’tbeenabletofind.Mydad’sfamily—they spent years searching.Mymom has been looking for a cure since Iwas born. The doctors inSeattlecouldn’tdoanything.”

“Doctors,”MadClaudesaidwithdisgust.“Ihadoneinthelegion,lovedtoputleechesonmylegs.Onlymademeworse.Now,aboutthisconnectiontoAnubis,andusingthatknife…”

Waltshookhishead.“Claude,we’lltrytohelpyou,butnotwiththeknife.Iknowmagicitems.I’mprettysureitcanbeusedonlyonce,andwecan’tjustmakeanother.IfSadieneedsitforRa,shecan’triskusingitbeforethat.”

“Excuses!”Clauderoared.“If you don’t shut up,” I warned, “I’m going to find yourmummy and draw amustache on your

portrait!”Claudeturnedaswhiteas…well,aghost.“Youwouldn’tdare!”“Walt,”Isaid,tryingtoignoretheRoman,“wasJazabletohelp?”“Shetriedherbest.Butthiscursehasbeendefyinghealersforthreethousandyears.Moderndoctors

thinkit’srelatedtosicklecellanemia,buttheydon’tknow.They’vebeentryingfordecadestofigureouthowKingTutdied,andtheycan’tagree.Somesaypoison.Somesayageneticdisease.It’sthecurse,butofcoursetheycan’tsaythat.”

“Isn’tthereanyway?Imeanweknowgods.PerhapsIcouldcureyoulikeIsisdidRa.IfIknewyoursecretname—”

“Sadie, I’ve thoughtof that,”hesaid.“I’ve thoughtofeverything.Thecursecan’tbecured. Itcanonlybesloweddownif…ifIavoidmagic.That’swhyIgotintotalismansandamulets.Theystoremagicinadvance,sotheydon’trequireasmuchfromtheuser.Butit’sonlyhelpedalittlebit.Iwasborntodomagic,sothecurseprogressesinmenomatterwhatIdo.Somedaysit’snotsobad.Somedaysmywholebodyisinpain.WhenIdomagic,itgetsworse.”

“Andthemoreyoudo—”

“ThefasterIdie.”Ipunchedhiminthechest.Icouldn’thelpit.Allmygriefandguiltflippedrighttoanger.“Youidiot!

Whyareyouhere,then?Youshould’vetoldmetoshoveoff!BeswarnedyoutostayinBrooklyn.Whydidn’tyoulisten?”

WhatItoldyouearlieraboutWalt’seyesnotmeltingme?Itakeitback.Whenhelookedatmeinthatdustytomb,hiseyeswereeverybitasdark,tender,andsadasAnubis’s.“I’mgoingtodieanyway,Sadie.Iwantmylifetomeansomething.And…IwanttospendasmuchtimeasIcanwithyou.”

Thathurtmeworsethanapunchinthechest.Muchworse.IthinkImight’vekissedhim.Orpossiblyslappedhim.MadClaude,however,wasnotasympatheticaudience.“Verysweet,I’msure,butyoupromisedme

payment!Comeback to theRoman tombs.Releasemyspirit frommymummy.Thenrelease theothers.Afterthat,youcandoasyoulike.”

“Theothers?”Iasked.“Areyoumad?”Hestaredatme.“Sillyquestion,”Iconceded.“Buttherearethousandsofmummies.Wehaveoneknife.”“Youpromised!”“Wedidnot,”Isaid.“Yousaidwe’ddiscussafeeafterwefoundthescroll.We’vefoundnothing

butadeadendhere.”Theghostgrowled,morelikeawolfthanahuman.“Ifyouwon’tcometous,”hesaid,“we’llcome

toyou.”Hisspiritglowed,thendisappearedinaflash.IlookednervouslyatWalt.“Whatdidhemeanbythat?”“Idon’tknow,”hesaid.“Butweshouldfigureouthowtogetthroughthatrubbleandgetoutofhere

—quickly.”

Despiteourbestefforts,nothinghappenedquickly.Wecouldn’tmove thedebris.Therewere toomanylargeboulders.Wecouldn’tdigaround,over,orunderit.Ididn’tdareriskaha-dispellorusetheblackknife’smagic.Walthadnoamuletsthatwouldhelp.Iwasfranklystumped.ThestatueofPtahsmiledatusbutdidn’tofferanyhelpfulsuggestions,nordidheseeminterestedinthebeefjerkyandjuice.

Finally, covered with dust, drenched with sweat, I plopped down on a stone sarcophagus andexaminedmyblisteredfingers.

Waltsatnexttome.“Don’tgiveup.Therehastobeaway.”“Does there?” I asked, feeling especially resentful. “Like therehas tobe a cure foryou?What if

thereisn’t?Whatif…”Myvoicebroke.Waltturnedhisfacesoitwashiddeninshadow.“I’msorry,”Isaid.“Thatwasterrible.ButIjustcouldn’tstanditif…”Iwassoconfused,Ididn’tknowwhattosay,orhowIfelt.AllIknewwasthatIdidn’twanttolose

Walt.“Didyoumeanit?”Iasked.“Whenyousaidyouwantedtospendtime…youknow.”Waltshrugged.“Isn’titobvious?”Ididn’tanswer,but,please—nothingisobviouswithboys.Forsuchsimplecreatures,theyarequite

baffling.IimaginedIwasblushingfiercely,soIdecidedtochangethesubject.“ClaudesaidhesensedthespiritofAnubisaboutyou.You’vebeentalkingtoAnubisalot?”Waltturnedhisrings.“Ithoughtmaybehecouldhelpme.Maybegrantmealittleextratimebefore…

before theend.Iwanted tobearoundlongenoughtohelpyoudefeatApophis.ThenI’dfeel likeIdidsomething with my life. And…there were other reasons I wanted to talk to him. About some—some

powersI’vebeendeveloping.”“Whatsortofpowers?”It wasWalt’s turn to change the subject. He looked at his hands like they’d become dangerous

weapons.“Thethingis,Ialmostdidn’tcometoBrooklyn.WhenIgotthedjedamulet—thatcallingcardyouguys sent—mymomdidn’twantme to leave.Sheknew that learningmagicwouldmake thecurseaccelerate. Part ofmewas afraid to go. Part ofmewas angry. It seemed like a cruel joke.You guysofferedtotrainmeformagicwhenIknewIwouldn’tsurvivelongerthanayearortwo.”

“Ayearortwo?”Icouldhardlybreathe.I’dalwaysthoughtofayearasanincrediblylongtime.I’dwaited forever to turn thirteen.And each school term seemed like an eternity.But suddenly twoyearsseemedmuchtooshort.I’donlybefifteen,notevendrivingyet.Icouldn’timaginewhatitwouldbeliketo know that Iwould die in two years—possibly sooner, if I continued doingwhat Iwas born to do,practicingmagic.“WhydidyoucometoBrooklyn,then?”

“Ihadto,”Waltsaid.“I’velivedmywholelifeunderthethreatofdeath.Mymommadeeverythingsoserious,sohuge.ButwhenIgottoBrooklyn,IfeltlikeIhadadestiny,apurpose.Evenifitmadethecursemorepainful,itwasworthit.”

“Butit’ssobloodyunfair.”Waltlookedatme,andIrealizedhewassmiling.“That’smyline.I’vebeensayingthatforyears.

Sadie, Iwant tobehere.Thepast twomonths I’ve felt like I’mactually living for the first time.Andgetting toknowyou…”Heclearedhis throat.Hewasquite attractivewhenhegot nervous. “I startedworryingaboutsmallthings.Myhair.Myclothes.WhetherIbrushedmyteeth.Imean,I’mdying,andI’mworryingaboutmyteeth.”

“Youhavelovelyteeth.”Helaughed.“That’swhatImean.Alittlecommentlikethat,andIfeelbetter.Allthesesmallthings

suddenlyseemimportant.Idon’tfeellikeI’mdying.Ifeelhappy.”Personally,Ifeltmiserable.FormonthsI’ddreamedaboutWaltadmittinghelikedme,butnotlike

this—notlike,Icanbehonestwithyou,becauseI’mdyinganyway.Something he’d said was nagging at me, too. It remindedme of a lesson I’d taught at Brooklyn

House,andanideabegantoforminmymind.“‘Small things suddenly seem important,’” I repeated. I looked down at a littlemound of rubble

we’dclearedfromtheblockeddoorway.“Oh,itcouldn’tbethateasy.”“What?”askedWalt.“Rocks.”“Ijustbaredmysoul,andyou’rethinkingaboutrocks?”“Thedoorway,”Isaid.“Sympatheticmagic.Doyouthink…”Heblinked.“SadieKane,you’reagenius.”“WellIknowthat.Butcanwemakeitwork?”WaltandIbegangatheringupmorepebbles.Wechippedsomepiecesfromthelargerbouldersand

addedthemtoourpile.Wetriedourbesttomakeaminiaturereplicaoftherubblecollectionblockingthedoorway.

Myhope,ofcourse,wastocreateasympatheticbond,asI’ddonewithCarterandthewaxfigurineinAlexandria.Therocksinourreplicapilecamefromthecollapsedtunnel,soourpileandtheoriginalwere already connected in substance,which should havemade it easy to establish a link.Butmovingsomethingverylargewithsomethingverysmall isalwaystricky.Ifwedidn’tdoitcarefully,wecouldcollapsethewholeroom.Ididn’tknowhowdeepundergroundwewere,butIimaginedtherewasquiteenoughrockanddirtoverourheadstoburyusforever.

“Ready?”Iasked.Waltnoddedandpulledouthiswand.

“Oh,no, cursedboy,” I said. “You justwatchmyback. If theceiling starts to fall andweneedashield,that’syourjob.Butyou’lldonomagicunlessabsolutelynecessary.I’llclearthedoorway.”

“Sadie,I’mnotfragile,”hecomplained.“Idon’tneedaprotector.”“Rubbish,”Isaid.“That’smachobluster,andallboysliketobemothered.”“What?God,you’reannoying!”Ismiledsweetly.“Youdidwanttospendtimewithme.”Beforehecouldprotest,Iraisedmywandandbeganthespell.Iimaginedabondbetweenoursmallpileofrubbleandthedebrisinthedoorway.Iimaginedthatin

theDuat,theywereoneandthesame.Ispokethecommandforjoin:“Hi-nehm.”

Thesymbolburnedfaintlyoverourminiaturerubblepile.Slowly and carefully, I brushed a few pebbles away from the pile. The debris in the corridor

rumbled.“It’sworking,”Waltsaid.Ididn’tdarelook.Istayedfocusedonmytask—movingthepebblesalittleatatime,dispersingthe

pileintosmallermounds.Itwasalmostashardasmovingrealboulders.Iwentintoadaze.WhenWaltputhishandonmyshoulder,Ihadnoideahowmuchtimehadpassed.IwassoexhaustedIcouldn’tseestraight.

“It’sdone,”hesaid.“Youdidgreat.”Thedoorwaywasclear.Therubblehadbeenpushedintothecornersofourroom,whereit layin

smallerpiles.“Nicejob,Sadie.”Waltleaneddownandkissedme.Hewasprobablyjustexpressingappreciation

orhappiness,butthekissdidn’tmakemefeelanylessfuzzyheaded.“Um,”Isaid—againwiththeincredibleverbalskills.Walthelpedmetomyfeet.Weheadeddownthecorridorintothenextroom.Foralltheworkwe’d

done toget there, the roomwasn’t very exciting, just a five-meter-square chamberwithnothing insideexcept a red lacquered box on a sandstone pedestal.On top of the boxwas a carvedwooden handleshapedlikeademonicgreyhoundwithtallears—theSetanimal.

“Oh,thatcan’tbegood,”Waltsaid.ButIwalkedstraightuptothebox,openedthelid,andgrabbedthescrollinside.“Sadie!”Waltyelled.“What?”Iturned.“It’sSet’sbox.Ifhe’dwantedtokillme,hecould’vedonesoinSt.Petersburg.He

wantsmetohavethisscroll.Probablythinksit’llbefunwatchingmekillmyselftryingtoawakenRa.”Ilookedupattheceilingandshouted,“Isn’tthatright,Set?”

Myvoiceechoedthroughthecatacombs.InolongerhadthepowertoinvokeSet’ssecretname,butIstill felt as if I’d gotten his attention. The air turned sharper. The ground trembled as if somethingunderneathit,somethingverylarge,waslaughing.

Waltexhaled.“Iwishyouwouldn’ttakechanceslikethat.”“Thisfromaboywho’swillingtodietospendtimewithme?”Waltmade an exaggerated bow. “I take it back,MissKane. Please, go right ahead trying to kill

yourself.”“Thankyou.”

Ilookedatthethreescrollsinmyhands—theentireBookofRa,togetherforprobablythefirsttimesinceMadClaudeworelittleRomandiapers.Ihadcollectedthescrolls,donetheimpossible,triumphedbeyondallexpectations.Yet it stillwouldn’tbeenoughunlesswecould findRaandwakehimbeforeApophisrose.“Notimetowaste,”Isaid.“Let’sget—”

Deepmoaningechoedthroughthecorridors,asifsomething—orawholehostofsomethings—hadwokenupinaverybadmood.

“Outofhere,”Waltsaid.“Greatidea.”

Asweranthroughthepreviouschamber,IglancedatthestatueofPtah.Iwastemptedtotakebackthejerkyandjuice,justtobemean,butIdecidedagainstit.

Isupposeitisn’tyourfault,Ithought.Can’tbeeasytohaveanamelikePtah.Enjoythesnack,butIdowishyou’dhelpedus.

Weranon. Itwasn’teasy to rememberourpath.Twicewehad todoublebackbefore finding theroomwiththefamilyofmummieswherewe’dmetMadClaude.

Iwasabouttoboltblindlyacrossthechamberandintothelast tunnel,butWaltheldmebackandsavedmylife.Heshinedhislightonthefarexit,thenonthecorridorstoeitherside.

“No,”Isaid.“No,no,no.”Allthreedoorwayswerecloggedwithhumanfigureswrappedinlinen.Theypressedtogetherasfar

as I could see down each corridor. Somewere still completely bound.They hopped and shuffled andwaddled forward as if theywere giant cocoons engaged in a sack race.Othermummies had partiallybrokenfree.Theylimpedalongonemaciatedlegs,handslikedriedbranchesclawingattheirwrappings.Moststillworetheirpainted-faceportraits,andtheeffectwasgruesome—lifelikemaskssmilingserenelyatthetopofundeadscarecrowsofbonesandpaintedlinen.

“Ihatemummies,”Iwhimpered.“Maybeafirespell,”Waltsaid.“They’vegottoburneasily.”“We’llburnourselves,too!It’stoocloseinhere.”“Youhaveabetteridea?”Iwantedtocry.Freedomsonear—andjustasI’dfeared,weweretrappedbyacrowdofmummies.

Butthesewereworsethanmoviemummies.Theyweresilentandslow,patheticruinedthingsthatoncewerehuman.

Oneofthemummiesonthefloorgrabbedmyleg.BeforeIcouldevenscream,Waltreachedoutandtappedthethingonthewrist.Themummyinstantlyturnedtodust.

Istaredathiminamazement.“Isthatthepoweryouwereworriedabout?Thatwasbrilliant!Doitagain!”

ImmediatelyIfeltawfulsuggestingit.Walt’sfacewastightwithpain.“Ican’tdoitathousandmoretimes,”hesaidsadly.“Maybeif…”Then,onthecentraldais,themummyfamilybegantostir.Iwill not lie.When the child-sizemummyof littlePur-pens sat up, I almost had an accident that

would’veruinedmynewjeans.Ifmybacould’veshedmyskinandflownaway,itwouldhave.IgrippedWalt’sarm.Atthefarendoftheroom,theghostofMadClaudeflickeredintoview.Ashewalkedtowardus,the

restofthemummiesbegantostir.“Youshouldbehonored,myfriends.”Hegaveusacrazygrin.“Ittakesalotofexcitementforbato

return to their withered old bodies. But we simply can’t let you leave until you’ve freed us for theafterlife.Usetheknife,doyourspells,andyoucango.”

“Wecan’tfreeyouall!”Ishouted.“Ashame,”Claudesaid.“Thenwe’lltaketheknifeandfreeourselves.Isupposetwomorebodies

inthecatacombswon’tmakeanydifference.”HesaidsomethinginLatin,andallthemummiessurgedtowardus,shufflingandtripping,fallingand

rolling. Some crumbled to pieces as they tried towalk.Others fell down andwere trampled by theirfellows.Butmorecameforward.

Webackedintothecorridor.Ihadmystaffinonehand.Withmyother,IheldtighttoWalt’shand.I’dneverbeengoodatsummoningfire,butImanagedtosettheendofmystaffablaze.

“We’lltryityourway,”ItoldWalt.“Lightthemupandrun.”Iknewitwasabadidea.Inclosequarters,ablazewouldhurtusasmuchasthemummies.We’ddie

ofsmokeinhalationorsuffocationorheat.Evenifwemanagedtoretreatbackintothecatacombs,we’djustgetlostandrunintomoremummies.

Waltlithisownstaff.“Onthree,”Isuggested.Istaredinhorroratthechild’smummycomingtowardus,theportraitofa

seven-year-oldboysmilingatmefrombeyondthegrave.“One,two—”Ifaltered.Themummieswereonlyameteraway,butfrombehindmecameanewsound—likewater

running.No—likeskittering.Amassoflivingthingschargingtowardus,thousandsandthousandsoftinyclawsonstone,possiblyinsectsor…

“Threecomesnext,”Waltsaidnervously.“Arewetorchingthemornot?”“Hugthewalls!”Ishrieked.Ididn’tknowexactlywhatwascoming,butIknewIdidn’twanttobe

intheirway.IpushedWaltagainstthestoneandflattenedmyselfnexttohim,ourfacespressedagainstthewall,asawaveofclawsandfurslammedintousandrolledoverourbacks:anarmyofrodentsscuttlingfive-deepalongthefloorandracinghorizontallyacrossthewalls,defyinggravity.

Rats.Thousandsofrats.Theyranstraightoverus,doingnodamageexceptfortheoddclawscratch.Notsobad,youmight

think,buthaveyoueverbeenuprightandtrampledbyanarmyoffilthyrats?Donotpaymoneyfortheexperience.

The rats flooded the burial chamber. They tore into the mummies, clawing and chewing andsquealingtheirtinybattlecries.Themummieswrithedundertheassault,buttheydidn’tstandachance.The room was a hurricane of fur, teeth, and shredded linen. It was like the old cartoons of termitesswarmingoverwoodanddissolvingittonothing.

“No!”yelledMadClaude.“No!”Buthewastheonlyonescreaming.Themummieswitheredsilentlyunderthefuryoftherats.“I’llgetyou!”Claudesnarledashisspiritbegantoflicker.“I’llhavemyrevenge!”Andwithonefinalevilglare,hisimagefadedandwasgone.Theratsdividedtheirforcesandscurriedoffdownallthreecorridors,chewingthroughmummiesas

theywent,until the roomwas silent andempty, the floor litteredwithdust, shredsof linen, anda fewbones.

Waltlookedshaken.Ifellagainsthimandhuggedhim.Iprobablycriedwithrelief.Iwassogladtoholdawarmlivinghumanbeing.

“It’sokay.”Hestrokedmyhair,whichfeltawfullygood.“That—thatwasthestoryaboutrats.”“What?”Imanaged.“They…they savedMemphis. An enemy army besieged the city, and the people prayed for help.

Their patron god sent a horde of rats. They ate the enemy’s bowstrings, their sandals, everything theycouldchew.Theattackershadtowithdraw.”

“Thepatrongod—youmean—”“Me.” From the exit corridor across the room, an Egyptian farmer stepped into view. He wore

grubbyrobes,aheadwrap,andsandals.Heheldarifleathisside.Hegrinnedatus,andashegotcloser,Isawhiseyeswereblankwhite.Hisskinhadaslightlybluishtint,asifheweresuffocatingandreally

enjoyingtheexperience.“SorryIdidn’tanswersooner,”saidthefarmer.“IamPtah.Andno,SadieKane,Iamnotthegodof

spit.”“Please,haveaseat,”thegodsaid.“Sorryaboutthemess,butwhatdoexpectfromRomans?They

neverdidcleanupafterthemselves.”NeitherWaltnorIsat.Agrinninggodwithariflewasabitoff-putting.“Ah,quiteright.”Ptahblinkedhisblankwhiteeyes.“You’reinahurry.”“Sorry,”Isaid.“Areyouadatefarmer?”Ptah looked down at his grubby robes. “I’m just borrowing this poor fellow for a minute, you

understand. I thoughtyouwouldn’tmind, ashewas comingdownhere to shootyou fordestroyinghiswatertower.”

“No,carryon,”Isaid.“Butthemummies—whatwillhappentotheirba?”Ptahlaughed.“Don’tworryaboutthem.Nowthattheirremainsaredestroyed,Iimaginetheirbawill

goontowhateverRomanafterlifeawaitsthem.Asitshouldbe.”Heputhishandoverhismouth andburped.Acloudofwhitegasbillowedout, coalesced into a

glowingba,andflewoffdownthecorridor.Waltpointedafterthespiritbird.“Didyoujust—”“Yes.”Ptahsighed.“Ireallytrynottotalkatall.That’showIcreate,yousee,withwords.Theycan

getmeintotrouble.OncejustforfunImadeuptheword‘platypus’and—”Instantly,aduckbilled,furrythingappearedonthefloor,scrabblingaroundinapanic.“Oh,dear,”Ptahsaid.“Yes, that’sexactlywhathappened.Slipof the tongue.Really theonlyway

somethinglikethatcouldhavebeencreated.”Hewavedhishand,andtheplatypusdisappeared.“Atanyrate,Ihavetobecareful,soIcan’ttalk

long. I’mgladyou found theBookofRa! Ialwaysdid like theoldchap. Iwouldhavehelpedearlier,when you asked, but it took a while to get here from the Duat. Also, I can open only one door percustomer.Ithoughtyouhadthatblockedcorridorwellinhand.Butthere’samuchmoreimportantdoorthatyouneed.”

“Sorry?”Iasked.“Yourbrother,”Ptahsaid.“He’sinagreatdealoftrouble.”Asexhausted,bedraggled,andcoveredwithratscratchesasIwas,thatnewssetmynervestingling.

Carterneededhelp.Ihadtosavemybrother’sridiculoushide.“Canyousendusthere?”Iasked.Ptahsmiled.“Thoughtyou’dneverask.”Hepointedtothenearestwall.Thestonesdissolvedintoaportalofswirlingsand.“And,mydear,somewordsofadvice.”Ptah’smilkyeyesstudiedme.“Courage.Hope.Sacrifice.”Iwasn’tsurewhetherhewasreadingthosequalitieswithinme,orgivingmeapeptalk,orperhaps

creatingthetraitsIneeded,thewayhe’dcreatedthebaandtheplatypus.Whateverthecase,Isuddenlyfeltwarmerinside,filledwithnewenergy.

“You’rebeginningtounderstand,”hetoldme.“Wordsarethesourceofallpower.Andnamesaremorethanjustacollectionofletters.Welldone,Sadie.Youmaysucceedyet.”

Istaredatthefunnelofsand.“Whatwillwefaceontheotherside?”“Enemiesandfriends,”Ptahsaid.“Butwhicharewhich,Ican’tsay.Ifyousurvive,gotothetopof

theGreatPyramid.ThatshoulddonicelyforanentrypointintotheDuat.WhenyoureadtheBookofRa—“

Hechoked,doublingoveranddroppinghisrifle.“Imustgo,”hesaid,straighteningwithagreatdealofeffort.“Thishostcan’tstandanymore.But,

Walt…”Hesmiledsadly.“Thankyouforthebeefjerkyandjuice.Thereisananswerforyou.It’snotone

you’lllike,butitisthebestway.”“Whatdoyoumean?”Waltasked.“Whatanswer?”The farmer blinked. Suddenly his eyes were normal. He looked at us in surprise, then yelled

somethinginArabicandraisedhisgun.IgrabbedWalt’shand,andtogetherwejumpedintotheportal.

CARTER

17.MenshikovHiresaHappyDeathSquad

IGUESSWE’REEVEN,SADIE.First,WaltandIrushedofftosaveyouinLondon.Then,youandWaltrushedofftosaveme.TheonlyonewhogotshaftedonbothdealswasWalt.Poorguygetshauledallovertheworldpullingusoutoftrouble.ButI’lladmitIneededthehelp.

Beswaslockedinaglowingfluorescentcage.Ziawasconvincedwewereenemies.Myswordandwandweregone.Iwasholdingacrookandflailthatwereapparentlystolenproperty,andtwoofthemostpowerfulmagicians in theworld,MichelDesjardinsandVlad theInhaler,wereready toarrestme, tryme,andexecuteme—notnecessarilyinthatorder.

I backed up to the steps of Zia’s tomb, but there was no place to go. Red mud stretched in alldirections, dotted with wreckage and dead fish. I couldn’t run or hide, which gave me two options:surrender,orfight.

Menshikov’sscarredeyesglittered.“Feelfreetoresist,Kane.Usingdeadlyforcewouldmakemyjobsomucheasier.”

“Vladimir,stop,”Desjardinssaidwearily,leaningonhisstaff.“Carter,don’tbefoolish.Surrendernow.”

Threemonthsago,Desjardinswould’vebeen thrilled toblastme tobits.Nowhe lookedsadandtired, like my execution was an unpleasant necessity. Zia stood next to him. She glanced warily atMenshikov,asifshecouldsensesomethingevilabouttheman.

IfIcouldusethat,possiblybuysometime…“What’syourplan,Vlad?”Iasked.“YouletusgetawayfromSt.Petersburgtooeasily.Almostlike

youwantustoawakenRa.”TheRussianlaughed.“IsthatwhyIfollowedyouhalfwayacrosstheworldtostopyou?”Hedidhisbesttolookscornful,butasmiletuggedathislips,asifweweresharingaprivatejoke.“Youdidn’tcometostopme,”Iguessed.“You’recountingonustofindthescrollsforyouandput

themtogether.DoyouneedRatowakeupinordertofreeApophis?”“Enough,Carter.”Desjardinsspokeinamonotone,likeasurgerypatientcountingbackwardwaiting

foranesthesia tokick in. Ididn’tunderstandwhyheseemedsoapathetic,butMenshikov lookedangryenoughforbothofthem.FromthehatredintheRussian’seyes,IcouldtellI’dstruckanerve.

“That’sit,isn’tit?”Isaid.“Ma’atandChaosareconnected.TofreeApophis,youhavetowakeRa,butyouwanttocontrolthesummoning,makesureRacomesbackoldandweak.”

Menshikov’snewoakenstaffburstintogreenflames.“Boy,youhavenoideawhatyouaresaying.”“Setteasedyouaboutapastmistake,”Iremembered.“YoutriedtoawakenRaoncebefore,didn’t

you?Usingwhat—onlytheonescrollyouhad?Isthathowyouburnedyourface?”“Carter!” Desjardins interrupted. “Vlad Menshikov is a hero of the House of Life. He tried to

destroythatscrolltokeepanyoneelsefromusingit.That’showhewasinjured.”ForamomentIwastoostunnedtospeak.“That…can’tbetrue.”“Youshoulddoyourhomework,boy.”Menshikovfixedhisruinedeyesonme.“TheMenshikovsare

descendedfromthepriestsofAmun-Ra.You’veheardofthattemple?”Itriedtorecallthestoriesmydadhadtoldme.IknewAmun-RawasanothernameforRa,thesun

god.Andhistemple…“TheyprettymuchcontrolledEgyptforcenturies,”Iremembered.“TheyopposedAkhenatonwhen

heoutlawedtheoldgods,maybeevenassassinatedhim.”“Indeed,” Menshikov said. “My ancestors were champions of the gods! They are the ones who

created the Book of Ra and hid its three sections, hoping that someday, a worthy magician wouldreawakentheirsungod.”

Itriedtowrapmymindaroundthat.IcouldtotallyseeVladMenshikovasanancientbloodthirstypriest.“Butifyou’redescendedfrompriestsofRa—”

“WhydoIopposethegods?”Menshikovglancedat theChiefLectorasifI’daskedapredictablystupidquestion.“Becausethegodsdestroyedourcivilization!BythetimeEgyptfellandLordIskandarbanned the path of the gods, evenmy family had come to realize the truth. The old ways must beforbidden.Yes,Itriedtodestroythescroll,tomakeupforthesinsofmyancestors.Thosewhosummonthegodsmustbewipedout.”

Ishookmyhead.“IsawyousummonSet.IheardyoutalkaboutfreeingApophis.Desjardins,Zia—thisguyislying.He’sgoingtokillyouboth.”

Desjardinslookedatmeinakindofdaze.AmoshadinsistedtheChiefLectorwassmart,sohowcouldhenotunderstandthethreat?

“Nomore,”Desjardinssaid.“Comepeacefully,CarterKane,orbedestroyed.”IgaveZiaonemorepleadinglook.Icouldseethedoubtinhereyes,butshewasn’tinanyshapeto

helpme.She’djustwokenupfromathree-month-longnightmare.ShewantedtobelievetheHouseofLifewasstillherhomeandDesjardinsandMenshikovwerethegoodguys.Shedidn’twanttohearanymoreaboutApophis.

Iraisedthecrookandflail.“I’mnotgoingpeacefully.”Menshikovnodded.“Then,destructionitis.”Hepointedhisstaffatme,andmyinstinctstookover.Ilashedoutwiththecrook.Iwasmuchtoofarawaytoreachhim,butsomeinvisibleforcerippedthestaffoutofMenshikov’s

handandsentitflyingintotheNile.Heheldouthiswand,butIslashedtheairagain,andMenshikovwentflying.Helandedonhisbacksohard,hemadeamudangel.

“Carter!”DesjardinspushedZiabehindhim.Hisownstafflitwithpurplefire.“YoudaretousetheweaponsofRa?”

Ilookedatmyhandsinamazement.I’dneverfeltsomuchpowercometomesoeasily—asifIweremeanttobeaking.Inthebackofmymind,IheardHorus’svoice,urgingmeon:

Thisisyourpath.Thisisyourbirthright.“You’regoingtokillmeanyway,”ItoldDesjardins.Mybodybegantoglow.Iroseofftheground.ForthefirsttimesinceNewYear’s,Iwasencasedin

the avatar of the hawk god—a falcon-headed warrior three times my normal size. In its hands weremassiveholographicreplicasofthecrookandflail.Ihadn’tpaidmuchattentiontotheflail,butitwasawickedpain-bringer—awoodenhandlewiththreebarbedchains,eachtoppedbyaspikymetalasterisk—like a combinationwhip andmeat tenderizer. I took a swipe at the ground, and the falconwarriormirrored my action. The glowing flail pulverized the stone steps of Zia’s tomb, sending blocks oflimestoneflyingthroughtheair.

Desjardinsraisedashieldtodeflecttheshards.Zia’seyeswidened.IknewIwasprobablyfreakingheroutandconvincingherIwasthebadguy,butIhadtoprotecther.Icouldn’tletMenshikovtakeheraway.

“Combatmagic,”Desjardinssaidwithdisdain.“ThisiswhattheHouseofLifewaslikewhenwefollowedthepathofthegods,CarterKane:magicianfightingmagician,backstabbingandduelsbetweenthedifferenttemples.Doyouwantthosetimestoreturn?”

“Itdoesn’thavetobethatway,”Isaid.“Idon’twanttofightyou,Desjardins,butMenshikovisatraitor.Getoutofhere.Letmedealwithhim.”

Menshikovrosefromthemud,smilinglikeheenjoyedgettingthrownaround.“Dealwithme?Howconfident!Byallmeans,ChiefLector,lettheboytry.I’llbesuretopickupthepieceswhenI’mdone.”

Desjardinsstartedtosay,“Vladimir,no.It’snotyourplace—”ButMenshikovdidn’twait.Hestompedthegroundwithhisfoot,andthemudturneddryandwhite

allaroundhim.Twinlinesofhardeningearthsnakedtowardme,crossinglikeaDNAhelix.Iwasn’tsurewhattheywoulddo,butIknewIdidn’twantthemtouchingme.Ismashedatthemwithmyflail,takingoutasectionofmudlargeenoughforahottub.Thewhitelinesjustkeptcoming,bleachingtheirwaydownthepitandclimbing theotherside, racing towardme. I tried tomoveoutof theirway,but thewarrioravatarwasn’texactlyspeedy.

Thelinesofmagicreachedmyfeet.Theywovelikevinesuptheavatar’slegsuntilIwastangledtothewaist.Theysqueezedagainstmyshielding,drainingmymagic,andIheardMenshikov’svoiceforcingitswayintomymind.

Snake,thevoicewhispered.Youareaslitheringreptile.Ifoughtbackmyterror.I’dbeenturnedintoananimalagainstmywilloncebefore,anditwasoneof

theworstexperiencesofmylife.Thistime,itwashappeninginslowmotion.Thecombatavatarfoughttomaintainitsform,butMenshikov’smagicwasstrong.Theglowingwhitevineskeptrising,encirclingmychest.

I swipedatMenshikovwithmycrook.The invisible forcehookedhimaround theneckand liftedhimofftheground.

“Doit!”hechokedout.“Showme—yourpower—godling!”Iraisedmyflail.Onegoodhit,andIcouldsmashVladMenshikovlikeabug.“Won’tmatter!”hegasped,clawingathisneck.“Spellwill—defeatyouanyway.Showusyou’re—

amurderer,Kane!”IglancedatZia’s terrifiedface,andIhesitated too long.Thewhitevinesencircledmyarms.The

combatavatarcrumpledtoitsknees,andIdroppedMenshikov.Painwrackedmybody.Mybloodturnedcold.Theavatar’s limbsshrank, thehawk’sheadslowly

changing into the head of a serpent. I could feelmy heart slowing,my vision darkening. The taste ofvenomfilledmymouth.

Ziacriedout.“Stopit!Thisistoomuch!”“Onthecontrary,”Menshikovsaid,rubbinghischafedneck.“Hedeservesworse.ChiefLector,you

sawhowthisboythreatenedyou.Hewantsthepharaoh’sthrone.Hemustbedestroyed.”Ziatriedtoruntome,butDesjardinsheldherback.“Discontinuethespell,Vladimir,”hesaid.“Theboycanbecontainedinmorehumaneways.”“Humane,mylord?He’sbarelyhuman!”The two magicians locked eyes. I don’t know what would’ve happened—but just then a portal

openedunderBes’scage.I’veseenplentyofportals,butnonelikethis.Thewhirlpoolopenedlevelwiththeground,sucking

down a trampoline-size area of red sand, dead fish, old lumber, pottery shards, and one glowingfluorescentcagecontainingadwarfgod.Asthecageenteredthevortex,thebarsbrokeintosplintersoflight.Bes unfroze, foundhimself halfway submerged in sand, and did some creative cursing.ThenmysisterandWaltshotstraightupoutoftheportal,suspendedhorizontally,asiftheywererunningtowardthesky.Whengravitytookover,theywavedtheirarmsandfellbackintothesand.Theymight’vebeenpulledunderexceptBesgrabbedthembothandmanagedtohaulthemoutofthewhirlpool.

Besdumpedthemonfirmground.ThenheturnedtoVladMenshikov,plantedhisfeet,andrippedoffhisHawaiianshirtandshortsliketheyweremadeoftissue.Hiseyesblazedwithanger.HisSpeedowasembroideredwiththewordsDwarfPride,whichwassomethingIreallydidn’tneedtosee.

Menshikovonlyhadtimetosay,“How—”

“BOO!”yelledBes.ThesoundwasliketheblastofanH-bomb—oraU-bomb,forUgly.Thegroundshook.Theriver

rippled.My avatar collapsed, andMenshikov’s spell dissolvedwith it—the venom taste inmymouthsubsiding,thepressureliftingsoIcouldbreatheagain.SadieandWaltwerealreadyontheground.Ziahadquicklybackedaway.ButMenshikovandDesjardinsgotafullblastofuglyrightintheirfaces.

Theirexpressionsturnedtoastonishment,andtheydisintegratedonthespot.Afteramomentofshock,Ziagasped.“Youkilledthem!”“Nah.”Besdustedoffhishands.“Justscared’embackhome.Theymaybeunconsciousforafew

hourswhiletheirbrainstrytoprocessmymagnificentphysique,butthey’lllive.Moreimportant—”HescowledatSadieandWalt.“Youtwohadthenervetoanchoraportalonme?DoIlooklikearelic?”

SadieandWaltwiselydidn’tanswerthat.Theygottotheirfeet,brushingoffthesand.“Itwasn’touridea!”Sadieprotested.“Ptahsentusheretohelpyou.”“Ptah?”Isaid.“Ptah,thegod?”“No,Ptahthedatefarmer.I’lltellyoulater.”“What’swrongwithyourhair?”Iasked.“Itlookslikeacamellickedit.”“Shutup.”ThenshenoticedZia.“Mygod,isthather?TherealZia?”Ziastumbledback,tryingtolightupherstaff.“Getaway!”Thefiresplutteredweakly.“We’renotgoingtohurtyou,”Sadiepromised.Zia’slegsshook.Herhandstrembled.Thenshedidtheonlylogicalthingforsomeonewho’dbeen

throughherkindofdayafterathree-monthcoma.Hereyesrolledbackinherhead,andshepassedout.Besgrunted.“Stronggirl.SheheldupunderafullfrontalBOO!Still…we’dbetterpickherupand

getoutofhere.Desjardinswon’tstaygoneforever.”“Sadie,”Isaid,“didyougetthescroll?”Shepulledallthreescrollsoutofherbag.Partofmewasrelieved.Partofmewasfrightened.“WeneedtogettotheGreatPyramid,”shesaid.“Pleasetellmeyouhaveacar.”

Notonlydidwehaveacar,wehadawholebunchofBedouins.Wereturnedtheirtruckwellafterdark,but the Bedouins seemed happy to see us, even thoughwe’d brought three extra people, one of themunconscious.SomehowBesmadeadealwiththemtodriveus toCairo.Afterafewminutes talkingintheir tent,heemergedwearingnewrobes.TheBedouinscameoutrippingtheremainsofhisHawaiianshirtintostrips,whichtheycarefullywrappedaroundtheirarms,theirradioantenna,andtheirrearviewmirrorasgoodlucktalismans.

Wepiledintothebackofthetruck.ItwastoocrowdedandnoisytotalkmuchaswedrovetoCairo.Bestoldustogetsomesleepwhilehekeptwatch.Hepromisedhe’dbenicetoZiaifshewokeup.

SadieandWaltwentstraighttosleep,butIstaredatthestarsforawhile.IwaspainfullyawareofZia—therealZia—sleepingfitfullyrightnexttome,andthemagicweaponsofRa,thecrookandtheflail,nowstashedinmybag.Mybodywasstillbuzzingfromthebattle.Menshikov’sspellhadbeenbroken,butIcouldstillhearhisvoiceinmyhead,tryingtoturnmeintoacold-bloodedreptile—sortoflikehim.

Finally, Imanaged to closemy eyes.Withoutmagical protection,myba drifted as soon as I fellasleep.

IfoundmyselfintheHallofAges,infrontofthepharaoh’sthrone.Betweenthecolumnsoneitherside, holographic images shimmered. Just as Sadie had described, the edge of themagic curtain wasturningfromredtodeeppurple—indicatinganewage.Theimagesinpurplewerehardtomakeout,butIthoughtIsawtwofiguresgrapplinginfrontofaburningchair.

“Yes,”saidthevoiceofHorus.“Thebattleapproaches.”Heappearedinarippleoflight,standingonthestepsofthedaiswheretheChiefLectorusuallysat.

Hewasinhumanform,amuscularyoungmanwithbronzeskinandashavedhead.Jewelsglintedonhis

leatherbattlearmor,andhiskhopeshhungathisside.Hiseyesgleamed—onegold,onesilver.“Howdidyougethere?”Iasked.“Isn’tthisplaceshieldedagainstgods?”“I’mnothere,Carter.You are.Butwewereonce joined. I amanecho inyourmind—thepartof

Horusthatneverleftyou.”“Idon’tunderstand.”“Justlisten.Yoursituationhaschanged.Youstandonthethresholdofgreatness.”Hepointedatmychest.IlookeddownandrealizedIwasn’tinmyusualbaform.Insteadofabird,I

wasahuman,dressedlikeHorusinEgyptianarmor.Inmyhandswerethecrookandflail.“Thesearen’tmine,”Isaid.“TheywereburiedwithZia.”“Theycouldbeyours,”Horussaid.“Theyarethesymbolsofthepharaoh—likestaffandwand,only

ahundred timesmorepowerful.Evenwithnopractice,youwereable tochannel theirpower. Imaginewhatwecoulddotogether.”Hegesturedtotheemptythrone.“YoucouldunitetheHouseofLifeasitsleader.Wecouldcrushourenemies.”

Iwon’tdeny:partofmefeltathrill.Monthsago,theideaofbeingaleaderscaredmetodeath.Nowthings had changed.My own understanding of magic had grown. I’d spent three months teaching andturningourinitiatesintoateam.Iunderstoodthethreatwewerefacingmoreclearly,andIwasbeginningtounderstandhowtochannelthepowerofHoruswithoutbeingoverwhelmed.WhatifHoruswasright,and I could lead the gods andmagicians against Apophis? I liked the idea of smashing our enemies,gettingbackattheforcesofChaosthathadturnedourlivesupsidedown.

ThenIrememberedthewayZiahadlookedatmewhenIwasabouttokillVladMenshikov—likeIwasthemonster.IrememberedwhatDesjardinshadsaidaboutthebadolddayswhenmagicianfoughtmagician. IfHoruswasanecho inmymind,maybe Iwasbeingaffectedbyhisdesire to rule. IknewHorus well now. He was a good guy in many ways—brave, honorable, righteous. But he was alsoambitious,greedy,jealous,andsingle-mindedwhenitcametohisgoals.Andhisbiggestdesirewastorulethegods.

“ThecrookandflailbelongtoRa,”Isaid.“Wehavetowakehim.”Horustiltedhishead.“EventhoughApophiswantsthattohappen?EventhoughRaisweakandold?

Iwarnedyouaboutthedivisionsbetweenthegods.YousawhowNekhbetandBabitriedtotakemattersinto their ownhands.The strifewill only getworse.Chaos feeds onweak leaders, divided loyalties.That’swhatVladimirMenshikovisafter.”

The Hall of Ages trembled. Along either wall, the curtain of purple light expanded. As theholographicscenewidened,Icouldtellthatthechairwasafierythrone,liketheoneSadiehaddescribedinhervisionofRa’sboat.Twoshadowyfigureswerelockedincombat,grapplinglikewrestlers,butIcouldn’ttelliftheyweretryingtopusheachotherintothechair,ortryingtokeepeachotheroutofit.

“DidMenshikovreallytrytodestroytheBookofRa?”Iasked.Horus’s silvereyeglinted. Italwaysseemeda littlebrighter thanhisgoldenone,whichmademe

feeldisoriented,likethewholeworldwaslistingtooneside.“LikemostthingsMenshikovsays,itwasapartial truth.He once believed as you do.He thought he could bring backRa and restoreMa’at.Heimaginedhimselfasthehighpriestofagloriousnewtemple,evenmorepowerfulthanhisancestors.Inhispride,hethoughthecouldreconstructtheBookofRafromtheonescrollinhispossession.Hewaswrong.Rahadtakengreatpainsnottobewakened.ThecursesonthescrollburnedMenshikov’seyes.Sunfiresearedhisthroatbecausehedaredtoreadthewordsofthespell.Afterthat,Menshikovturnedbitter.AtfirstheplottedtodestroytheBookofRa,buthedidnothavethepower.Thenhehituponanewplan.HewouldawakenRa,butforrevenge.That’swhathe’sbeenwaitingfor,alltheseyears.That’swhyhewantsyoutocollectthescrollsandreconstructtheBookofRa.MenshikovwantstoseetheoldgodswallowedbyApophis.Hewantstoseetheworldplungedintodarknessandchaos.Heisquiteinsane.”

“Oh.”

[Greatresponse,Iknow.Butwhatdoyousaytoastorylikethat?]On thedaisnext toHorus, theempty throneof thepharaohseemed toundulate in thepurple light.

That chair had always intimidatedme.Long ago, the pharaohhad been themost powerful ruler in theworld.Hehadcontrolledanempire that lasted twenty times longer thanmyowncountry, theU.S.,hadexisted.HowcouldIbeworthyofsittingthere?

“Youcandoit,Carter,”Horusurged.“Youcantakecontrol.Whytake theriskofsummoningRa?YoursisterwillhavetoreadtheBook,youknow.YousawwhathappenedtoMenshikovwhenjustonescrollbackfired.Canyouimagineifthreetimesthatmuchpowerisunleashedonyoursister?”

Mymouthwentdry.BadenoughI’dletSadiegoofftofindthelastscrollwithoutme.HowcouldIlethertakeariskthatmightscarherlikeVladtheInhaler,orworse?

“You see the truth now,” Horus said. “Claim the crook and flail for yourself. Take the throne.Together,wecandefeatApophis.WecanreturntoBrooklynandprotectyourfriendsandyourhome.”

Home.Thatsoundedso tempting.Andourfriendswere in terribledanger. I’dseenfirsthandwhatVladMenshikovcoulddo.IimaginedlittleFelixortimidCleotryingtofightagainstthatkindofmagic.IimaginedMenshikovturningouryounginitiatesintohelplesssnakes.Iwasn’tevensureAmoscouldstandagainsthim.WiththeweaponsofRa,IcouldprotectBrooklynHouse.

ThenIlookedatthepurpleimagesflickeringagainstthewall—twofiguresfightingbeforethefierythrone.Thatwasourfuture.Thekeytosuccesswasn’tme,orevenHorus—itwasRa,theoriginalkingofEgyptiangods.NexttothefierythroneofRa,thepharaoh’sseatseemedaboutasimportantasaLa-Z-Boyrecliner.

“We’renotenough,”ItoldHorus.“WeneedRa.”ThegodfixedmewithhisgoldandsilvereyeslikeIwasasmallbitofpreymilesbelowhim,and

hewasconsideringwhetherornotIwasworthdivingfor.“Youdonotunderstandthethreat,”hedecided.“Stay,Carter.Andlistentoyourenemiesplanyour

death.”Horusdisappeared.Iheardfootstepsintheshadowsbehindthethrone,thenfamiliarraspybreathing.Ihopedmybawas

invisible.VladimirMenshikovsteppedintothelight,half-carryinghisboss,Desjardins.“Almostthere,mylord,”Menshikovsaid.The Russian looked well rested in a new white suit. The only sign of our recent fight was the

bandageonhisneckfromwhereI’dcrookedhim.Desjardins,however,lookedlikehe’dagedadecadeina fewhours.He stumbled along, leaningonMenshikov.His facewasgaunt.His hair had turned starkwhite,andIdidn’tthinkitwasallbecausehehadseenBesinaSpeedo.

Menshikovtriedtoeasehimontothepharaoh’sthrone,butDesjardinsprotested.“Never,Vladimir.Thestep.Thestep.”

“Butsurely,lord,inyourcondition—”“Never!”Desjardinssettledonthestepsatthefootofthethrone.Icouldn’tbelievehowmuchworse

helooked.“Ma’at is failing.” Desjardins held out his hand. A weak cloud of hieroglyphs drifted from his

fingertipsintotheair.“ThepowerofMa’atoncesustainedme,Vladimir.Nowitseemstobesappingmylifeforce.ItisallIcando…”Hisvoicetrailedoff.

“Fearnot,mylord,”Menshikovsaid.“OncetheKanesaredealtwith,allwillbewell.”“Will it?”Desjardins looked up, and for amoment his eyes flaredwith anger like they used to.

“Don’tyoueverhavedoubts,Vladimir?”“No,mylord,”saidtheRussian.“Ihavegivenmylifetofightingthegods.Iwillcontinuetodoso.If

Imaybesobold,ChiefLector,youshouldnothaveallowedAmosKaneintoyourpresence.Hiswordsarelikepoison.”

Desjardins caught a hieroglyph from the air and studied it as it revolved in his palm. I didn’trecognizethesymbol,butitremindedmeofatrafficlightwithastickfigureguystandingnexttoit.

“Menhed,”Desjardinssaid.“Thescribe’spalette.”Ilookedatthedimlyflickeringsymbol,andIcouldseetheresemblancetothewritingtoolsinmy

supplybag.Therectanglewasthepalette,withplacesforblackandredink.Thestickfigureononesidewasawritingstylus,attachedwithastring.

“Yes,mylord,”Menshikovsaid.“How…interesting.”“It was my grandfather’s favorite symbol,” Desjardins mused. “Jean-François Champollion, you

know.HebrokethecodeofhieroglyphicsusingtheRosettaStone—thefirstmanoutsidetheHouseofLifetodoso.”

“Indeed,mylord.Ihaveheardthestory.”Athousandtimes,hisexpressionseemedtosay.“Herosefromnothingtobecomeagreatscientist,”Desjardinscontinued,“andagreatmagician—

respectedbymortalsandmagiciansalike.”Menshikovsmiled likehewashumoringachildwhowasbecomingannoying.“Andnowyouare

ChiefLector.Hewouldbeproud.”“Wouldhe?”Desjardinswondered.“WhenIskandaracceptedmyfamilyintotheHouseofLife,he

saidhewelcomedthenewbloodandnewideas.HehopedwewouldreinvigoratetheHouse.Yetwhatdidwecontribute?Wechangednothing.Wequestionednothing.TheHousehasgrownweak.Wehavefewerinitiateseveryyear.”

“Ah,mylord.”Menshikovbaredhisteeth.“Letmeshowyouwearenotweak.Yourattackforceisassembled.”

Heclappedhishands.At thefarendof thehall, thehugebronzedoorsopened.AtfirstIcouldn’tbelievemyeyes,butasthesmallarmymarchedtowardus,Igotmoreandmorealarmed.

Thedozenmagiciansweretheleastscarypartofthegroup.Theyweremostlyoldermenandwomenin traditional linen robes.Manyhadkohlaround theireyesandhieroglyphic tattooson theirhandsandfaces.SomeworemoreamuletsthanWalt.Themenhadshavedheads;thewomenworetheirhairshortortiedbackinponytails.Allof themhadgrimexpressions, likeanangrymobofpeasantsout toburn theFrankensteinmonster,except insteadofpitchforks theywerearmedwithstaffsandwands.Severalhadswords,too.

Marchingoneithersideof themweredemons—about twenty inall. I’dfoughtdemonsbefore,butsomething about these was different. They moved with more confidence, like they shared a sense ofpurpose.Theyradiatedevilsostronglymybafeltlikeitwasgettingasuntan.Theirskinwaseverycolorfrom green to black to violet. Some were dressed in armor, some in animal hides, some in flannelpajamas.Onehadachainsawforahead.Anotherhadaguillotine.Athirdhadafootsproutingbetweenhisshoulders.

Even scarier than the demonswere thewinged snakes.Yeah, I know, you’re thinking: “Notmoresnakes!”Believeme, after getting bit by the tjesu heru in St. Petersburg, Iwasn’t happy to see themeither.Theseweren’t three-headed,and theyweren’tanybigger thannormalsnakes,but just lookingatthemgavemethecreeps.Imagineacobrawiththewingsofaneagle.Nowimagineitzippingthroughtheair,exhalinglongjetsoffirelikeaflamethrower.Halfadozenofthesemonsterscircledtheattacksquad,dartinginandoutandspittingfire.Itwasamiraclenoneofthemagiciansgottorched.

Asthegroupapproached,Desjardinsstruggledtohisfeet.Themagiciansanddemonskneltbefore

him.OneofthewingedsnakesflewinfrontoftheChiefLector,andDesjardinssnatcheditoutoftheairwithsurprisingspeed.Thesnakewriggledinhisfist,butdidn’ttrytostrike.

“Auraeus?”Desjardinsasked.“Thisisdangerous,Vladimir.ThesearecreaturesofRa.”Menshikovinclinedhishead.“Theyonceserved the templeofAmun-Ra,ChiefLector,butdonot

worry.Becauseofmyancestry, Icancontrol them.I thought it fitting,usingcreaturesof thesungod todestroythosewhowouldwakehim.”

Desjardinsreleasedthesnake,whichspoutedfireandflewaway.“Andthedemons?”Desjardinsasked.“SincewhendoweusecreaturesofChaos?”“Theyarewell controlled,my lord.”Menshikov’svoice soundedstrained,as ifheweregrowing

tiredofhumoringhisboss.“Thesemagesknowtheproperbindingspells.Ihandpickedthemfromnomesaroundtheworld.Theyhavegreatskill.”

TheChiefLectorfocusedonanAsianmaninbluerobes.“Kwai,isn’tit?”Themannodded.“AsIrecall,”Desjardinssaid,“youwereexiledtotheThree-HundredthNomeinNorthKoreafor

murdering a fellowmagician.And you, Sarah Jacobi”—he pointed to awomanwithwhite robes andspikyblackhair—“youweresenttoAntarcticaforcausingthetsunamiintheIndianOcean.”

Menshikovclearedhisthroat.“Mylord,manyofthesemagicianshavehadissuesinthepast,but—”“Theyareruthlessmurderersandthieves,”Desjardinssaid.“TheworstofourHouse.”“Buttheyareanxioustoprovetheirloyalty,”Menshikovassuredhim.“Theyarehappytodoit!”Hegrinnedathisminions,asifencouragingthemtolookhappy.Noneofthemdid.“Besides,mylord,”Menshikovcontinuedquickly,“ifyouwantBrooklynHousedestroyed,wemust

beruthless.ItisforthegoodofMa’at.”Desjardinsfrowned.“Andyou,Vladimir?Willyouleadthem?”“No,mylord.Ihavefullconfidencethatthis,ah,finegroupcandealwithBrooklynontheirown.

Theywillattackatsunset.Asforme,IwillfollowtheKanesintotheDuatanddealwiththempersonally.You,my lord, should stayhereand rest. Iwill senda scryer toyourquarters soyoumayobserveourprogress.”

“‘Stayhere,’”Desjardinsquotedbitterly.“‘Andobserve.’”Menshikovbowed.“WewillsavetheHouseofLife.Iswearit.TheKaneswillbedestroyed, the

godsputbackintoexile.Ma’atwillberestored.”IhopedDesjardinswouldcometohissensesandcallofftheattack.Instead,hisshouldersslumped.

HeturnedhisbackonMenshikovandstaredattheemptythroneofthepharaoh.“Go,”hesaidwearily.“Getthosecreaturesoutofmysight.”Menshikovsmiled.“Mylord.”HeturnedandmarcheddowntheHallofAgeswithhispersonalarmyintow.Once theywere gone,Desjardins held uphis hand.Anorbof light fluttered from the ceiling and

restedonhispalm.“BringmetheBookofOvercomingApophis,”Desjardinstoldthelight.“Imustconsultit.”Themagicorbdippedasifbowing,thenracedoff.Desjardinsturnedtowardthepurplecurtainoflight—theimageoftwofiguresfightingoverathrone

offire.“Iwill‘observe,’Vladimir,”hemurmuredtohimself.“ButIwillnot‘stayandrest.’”Thescenefaded,andmybareturnedtomybody.

CARTER

18.GamblingonDoomsdayEve

FORTHESECONDTIMETHATWEEK,IwokeonasofainahotelroomwithnoideahowI’dgottenthere.Theroomwasn’tnearlyasniceas theFourSeasonsAlexandria.Thewallswerecrackedplaster.

Exposedbeamssaggedalongtheceiling.Aportablefanhummedonthecoffeetable,buttheairwasashotasablastfurnace.Afternoonlightstreamedthroughtheopenwindows.Frombelowcamethesoundsof cars honking andmerchants hawking theirwares inArabic. The breeze smelled of exhaust, animalmanure,andapplesisha—thefruitymolassesscentofwater-pipesmoke.Inotherwords,IknewwemustbeinCairo.

Atthewindow,Sadie,Bes,Walt,andZiaweresittingaroundatable,playingaboardgamelikeoldfriends.Thescenewassobizarre,IthoughtImuststillbedreaming.

ThenSadienoticedIwasawake.“Well,well.Nexttimeyoutakeanextendedbatrip,Carter,doletusknowinadvance.It’snotfuncarryingyouupthreeflightsofstairs.”

Irubbedmythrobbinghead.“HowlongwasIout?”“Longerthanme,”Ziasaid.Shelookedamazing—calmandrested.Herfreshlywashedhairwassweptbehindherears,andshe

woreanewwhitesleevelessdressthatmadeherbronzeskinglow.IguessIwasstaringatherprettyhard,becauseshedroppedhergaze.Herthroatturnedred.“It’sthreeintheafternoon,”shesaid.“I’vebeenupsincetenthismorning.”“Youlook—”“Better?” She raised her eyebrows, like she was challenging me to deny it. “You missed the

excitement.Itriedtofight.Itriedtoescape.Thisisourthirdhotelroom.”“Thefirstonecaughtfire,”Bessaid.“Thesecondoneexploded,”Waltsaid.“IsaidIwassorry.”Ziafrowned.“Atanyrate,yoursisterfinallycalmedmedown.”“Whichtookseveralhours,”Sadiesaid,“andallmydiplomaticskill.”“Youhavediplomaticskill?”Iasked.Sadierolledhereyes.“Asifyou’dnotice,Carter!”“Your sister is quite intelligent,”Zia said. “She convincedme to reserve judgment onyour plans

untilyouwokeupandwecouldtalk.She’squitepersuasive.”“Thankyou,”Sadiesaidsmugly.Istaredatthemboth,andafeelingofterrorsetin.“You’regettingalong?Youcan’tgetalong!You

andSadiecan’tstandeachother.”“That was a shabti, Carter,” Zia said, though her neck was still bright red. “I find Sadie…

admirable.”“Yousee?”Sadiesaid.“I’madmirable!”“Thisisanightmare.”Isatupandtheblanketsfellaway.IlookeddownandfoundIwaswearing

Pokémonpajamas.“Sadie,”Isaid,“I’mgoingtokillyou.”Shebattedhereyesinnocently.“Butthestreetmerchantgaveusaverygooddealonthose.Waltsaid

theywouldfityou.”Waltraisedhishands.“Don’tblameme,man.Itriedtostickupforyou.”

Bessnorted,thendidaprettygoodimitationofWalt’svoice:“‘Atleastgettheextra-largeoneswithPikachu.’Carter,yourstuff’sinthebathroom.Now,areweplayingsenet,ornot?”

Istumbledintothebathroomandwasrelievedtofindasetofnormalclotheswaitingforme—freshunderwear, jeans, and a T-shirt that did not feature Pikachu. The shower made a sound like a dyingelephantwhenItriedtoturniton,butImanagedtorunsomerusty-smellingwaterinthesinkandwashupasbestIcould.

WhenIcameoutagain,Ididn’texactlyfeelgoodasnew,butatleastIdidn’tsmelllikedeadfishandgoatmeat.

Myfourcompanionswerestillplayingsenet.I’dheardofthegame—supposedlyoneoftheoldestinthe world—but I’d never seen it played. The board was a rectangle with blue-and-white-checkeredsquares,threerowsoftenspaceseach.Thegamepieceswerewhiteandbluecircles.Insteadofdice,youthrew four strips of ivory likePopsicle sticks, blank on one side andmarkedwith hieroglyphs on theother.

“Ithoughttherulesofthisgamewerelost,”Isaid.Besraisedaneyebrow.“Maybetoyoumortals.Thegodsneverforgot.”“It’squiteeasy,”Sadiesaid.“YoumakeanSaroundtheboard.Firstteamtogetalltheirpiecesto

theendwins.”“Ha!”Bessaid.“There’smuchmoretoitthanthat.Ittakesyearstomaster.”“Isthatso,dwarfgod?”Ziatossedthefoursticks,andallofthemcameupmarked.“Masterthat!”SadieandZiagaveeachotherahighfive.Apparently,theywereateam.Sadiemovedabluepiece

andbumpedawhitepiecebacktostart.“Walt,”Besgrumbled,“Itoldyounottomovethatpiece!”“Itisn’tmyfault!”Sadiesmiledatme.“It’sgirlsversusboys.We’replayingforVladMenshikov’ssunglasses.”SheheldupthebrokenwhiteshadesthatSethadgivenherinSt.Petersburg.“Theworldisabouttoend,”Isaid,“andyou’regamblingoversunglasses?”“Hey,man,”Walt said.“We’re totallymultitasking.We’vebeen talkingfor like, sixhours,butwe

hadtowaitforyoutowakeuptomakeanydecisions,right?”“Besides,”Sadiesaid,“Besassuresusthatyoucannotplaysenetwithoutgambling.Itwouldshake

thefoundationsofMa’at.”“That’strue,”saidthedwarf.“Walt,roll,already.”Waltthrewthesticksandthreecameupblank.Bescursed.“WeneedatwotomoveoutoftheHouseofRe-Atoum,kid.DidInotexplainthat?”“Sorry!”Iwasn’tsurewhatelsetodo,soIpulledupachair.Theviewout thewindowwasbetter than I’d realized.About amile away, thePyramidsofGiza

gleamed red in the afternoon light. We must’ve been in the southwest outskirts of the city—near ElMansoria.I’dbeenthroughthisneighborhoodadozentimeswithmydadonourwaytovariousdigsites,butitwasstilldisorientingtoseethepyramidssoclose.

Ihadamillionquestions.Ineededtotellmyfriendsaboutmybavision.ButbeforeIcouldgetupthenerve,Sadie launched into a long explanationofwhat they’dbeenup towhile Iwasunconscious.MostlysheconcentratedonhowfunnyIlookedwhenIslept,andthevariouswhimperingnoisesI’dmadeas theypulledmeoutof thefirst twoburninghotel rooms.Shedescribedtheexcellentfresh-bakedflatbread,falafel,andspicedbeefthey’dhadforlunch(“Oh,sorry,wedidn’tsaveyouany.”)andthegreatdealsthey’dgottenshoppinginthesouk,thelocalopen-airmarket.

“Youwentshopping?”Isaid.“Well,ofcourse,”shesaid.“Wecan’tdoanythinguntilsunset,anyway.Bessaidso.”

“Whatdoyoumean?”Bestossedthesticksandmovedoneofhispiecestothehomespace.“Theequinox,kid.We’reclose

enoughnow—alltheportalsintheworldwillshutdownexceptfortwotimes:sunsetandsunrise,whennightanddayareperfectlybalanced.”

“Atanyrate,”Sadiesaid,“ifwewant to findRa,we’llhave to followhis journey,whichmeansgoingintotheDuatatsunsetandcomingbackoutatsunrise.”

“Howdoyouknowthat?”Iasked.Shepulledascrollfromherbag—acylinderofpapyrusmuchthickerthantheoneswe’dcollected.

Theedgesglowedlikefire.“TheBookofRa,”shesaid.“Iputittogether.Youmaythankmenow.”Myheadstarted tospin. I rememberedwhatHorushadsaid inmyvisionabout thescrollburning

Menshikov’sface.“Youmeanyoureaditwithout…withoutanytrouble?”Sheshrugged.“Justtheintroduction:warnings,instructions,thatsortofthing.Iwon’treadtheactual

spelluntilwefindRa,butIknowwherewe’regoing.”“Ifwedecidetogo,”Isaid.Thatgoteveryone’sattention.“If?” Zia asked. Shewas so close it was painful, but I could feel the distance she was putting

betweenus:leaningawayfromme,tensinghershoulders,warningmetorespectherspace.“Sadietoldmeyouwerequitedetermined.”

“Iwas,”Isaid,“untilIlearnedwhatMenshikovisplanning.”I told them what I’d seen in my vision—aboutMenshikov’s strike force heading to Brooklyn at

sunset, and his plans to track us personally through the Duat. I explained what Horus said about thedangersofwakingRa,andhowIcouldusethecrookandflailinsteadtofightApophis.

“ButthosesymbolsaresacredtoRa,”Ziasaid.“Theybelongtoanypharaohwhoisstrongenoughtowieldthem,”Isaid.“Ifwedon’thelpAmosin

Brooklyn—”“Your uncle and all your friends will be destroyed,” Bes said. “From what you’ve described,

Menshikovhasputtogetheranastylittlearmy.Uraei—theflamingsnakes—they’reverybadnews.EvenifBastgetsbackintimetohelp—”

“WeneedtoletAmosknow,”Waltsaid.“Atleastwarnhim.”“Youhaveascryingbowl?”Iasked.“Better.”Hepulledoutacellphone.“WhatdoItellhim?Arewegoingback?”Iwavered.Howcould I leaveAmos andmy friends alone against an evil army?Part ofmewas

itching to take up the pharaoh’s weapons and smash our enemies. Horus’s voice was still insideme,urgingmetotakecharge.

“Carter,youcan’tgotoBrooklyn.”Ziameetmyeyes,andIrealizedthefearandpanichadn’t lefther.Shewasholdingthosefeelingsback,buttheywerestillbubblingunderthesurface.“WhatIsawatRedSands…thatdisturbedmetoomuch.”

Ifeltlikeshe’djuststompedonmyheart.“Look,I’msorryabouttheavatarthing,thecrookandflail.Ididn’tmeantofreakyouout,but—”

“Carter,youdidn’tdisturbme.VladMenshikovdid.”“Oh…Right.”She took a shaky breath. “I never trusted that man. When I graduated from initiate training,

MenshikovrequestedIbeassignedtohisnome.Thankfully,Iskandardeclined.”“So…whycan’tIgotoBrooklyn?”Ziaexaminedthesenetboardasifitwereawarmap.“Ibelieveyou’retellingthetruth.Menshikov

isatraitor.Whatyoudescribedinyourvision…IthinkDesjardinsisbeingaffectedbyevilmagic.It’snot

Ma’at’sfailingthat’sdraininghislifeforce.”“It’sMenshikov,”Sadieguessed.“Ibelieveso….”Zia’svoicebecamehoarse.“AndIbelievemyoldmentor,Iskandar,wastryingto

protectmewhenheputmeintothattomb.ItwasnotamistakethatheletmehearthevoiceofApophisinmydreams.Itwassomesortofwarning—onelastlesson.Hehidthecrookandflailwithmeforareason.Perhapsheknewyouwouldfindme.Atanyrate,Menshikovmustbestopped.”

“ButyoujustsaidIcouldn’tgotoBrooklyn,”Iprotested.“Imeantthatyoucan’tabandonyourquest.IthinkIskandarforesawthispath.Hebelievedthegods

mustunitewiththeHouseofLife,andItrusthisjudgment.YouhavetoawakenRa.”HearingZiasayit,Ifeltforthefirsttimelikeourquestwasreal.Andcrucial.Andvery,verycrazy.

ButIalsofeltalittlesparkofhope.Maybeshedidn’thatemecompletely.Sadiepickedupthesenetsticks.“Well,that’ssorted,then.Atsunset,we’llopenaportalatthetopof

theGreatPyramid.We’llfollowthesunboat’soldcoursedowntheRiverofNight,findRa,wakehim,andbring himout again at dawn.Andpossibly find someplace for dinner along theway, because I’mhungryagain.”

“It’llbedangerous,”Bessaid.“Reckless.Probablyfatal.”“So,anaveragedayforus,”Isummedup.Waltfrowned,stillholdinghisphone.“ThenwhatshouldItellAmos?He’sonhisown?”“Notquite,”Ziasaid.“I’llgotoBrooklyn.”Ialmostchoked.“You?”Ziagavemeacrosslook.“Iamgoodatmagic,Carter.”“That’snotwhatImeant.It’sjust—”“Iwant to speakwithAmosmyself,” she said. “When theHouse of Life appears, perhaps I can

intervene,stallfortime.Ihavesomeinfluencewithothermagicians…atleastIdidwhenIskandarwasalive.Someofthemmightlistentoreason,especiallyifMenshikovisn’tthereeggingthemon.”

IthoughtabouttheangrymobI’dseeninmyvision.Reasonablewasn’tthefirstwordthatcametomind.

ApparentlyWaltwasthinkingthesamething.“Ifyouteleportinatsunset,”hesaid,“you’llarriveatthesametimeastheattackers.It’sgoingtobe

chaos,notmuchtimefortalking.Whatifyouhavetofight?”“Let’shope,”Ziasaid,“itdoesn’tcometothat.”Notaveryreassuringanswer,butWaltnodded.“I’llgowithyou.”Sadiedroppedhersenetsticksonthefloor.“What?Walt,no!Inyourcondition—”Sheclampedhermouthshut,toolate.“Whatcondition?”Iasked.IfWalthadhadanEvilEyespell,Ithinkhewould’veuseditonmysisterjustthen.“Myfamilyhistory,”hesaid.“SomethingItoldSadie…inconfidence.”Hedidn’tsoundhappyaboutit,butheexplainedthecurseonhisfamily,thebloodlineofAkhenaton,

andwhatitmeantforhim.Ijustsatthere,stunned.Walt’ssecretivebehavior,histalkswithJaz,hismoodiness—allofitmade

sensenow.Myownproblemssuddenlyseemedalotlesssignificant.“Oh,man,”Imumbled.“Walt—”“Look, Carter, whatever you’re going to say, I appreciate the sentiment. But I’m through with

sympathy.I’vebeenlivingwiththisdiseaseforyears.Idon’twantpeoplepityingmeortreatingmeasthoughI’mspecial.Iwanttohelpyouguys.I’lltakeZiabacktoBrooklyn.Thatway,Amoswillknowshecomesinpeace.We’lltrytostalltheattack,holdthemoffuntilsunrisesoyoucancomebackwithRa.Besides…” He shrugged. “If you fail, and we don’t stop Apophis, we’re all going to die tomorrow

anyway.”“That’s lookingon thebright side,” I said.Thensomethingoccurred tome:a thoughtso jarring it

waslikeatinynuclearreactioninmyhead.“Holdup.MenshikovsaidhewasdescendedfromthepriestsofAmun-Ra.”

Bes snorteddisdainfully. “Hated thoseguys.Theywere so full of themselves.Butwhatdoes thathavetodowithanything?”

“Weren’tthosethesameprieststhatfoughtAkhenatonandcursedWalt’sancestors?”Iasked.“WhatifMenshikovhasthesecretofthecurse?Whatifhecouldcure—”

“Stop.”TheangerinWalt’svoicetookmebysurprise.Hishandswereshaking.“Carter,I’vecometotermswithmyfate.Iwon’tgetmyhopesupfornothing.Menshikovistheenemy.

Evenifhecouldhelp,hewouldn’t.Ifyoucrosspathswithhim,don’ttrytomakeanydeals.Don’ttrytoreasonwithhim.Dowhatyouneedto.Takehimdown.”

IglancedatSadie.Hereyesweregleaming,likeI’dfinallydonesomethingright.“Okay,Walt,”Isaid.“Iwon’tmentionitagain.”ButSadieandIhadaverydifferentsilentconversation.Foronce,wewereintotalagreement.We

weregoingtovisit theDuat.Andwhilewewerethere,we’dturnthetablesonVladMenshikov.We’dfindhim,beatthecrudoutofhim,andforcehimtotellushowtocureWalt.Suddenly,Ifeltawholelotbetteraboutthisquest.

“Sowe’ll leave at sunset,” Zia said. “Walt and I for Brooklyn.You and Sadie for theDuat. It’ssettled.”

“Exceptforonething.”BesglaredatthesenetsticksSadiehaddroppedonthefloor.“Youdidnotrollthat.It’simpossible!”

Sadielookeddown.Agrinspreadacrossherface.She’daccidentallyrolledathree,justwhatsheneededtowin.

Shemovedherlastpiecehome,thenpickedupMenshikov’swhiteglassesandtriedthemon.Theylookedcreepyonher.Icouldn’thelpthinkingaboutMenshikov’sburnedvoiceandhisscarredeyes,andwhatmighthappentomysisterifshetriedtoreadtheBookofRa.

“Impossible is my specialty,” she said. “Come on, brother, dear. Let’s get ready for the GreatPyramid.”

Ifyouevervisitthepyramids,here’satip:thebestplacetoseethemisfromfaraway,likethehorizon.Thecloseryouget,themoredisappointedyou’llbe.

Thatmay soundharsh, but first of all, up close, thepyramids aregoing to seem smaller thanyouthought. Everybody who sees them says that. Sure, they were the tallest structures on the earth forthousands of years, but compared to modern buildings, they don’t seem so impressive. They’ve beenstripped of thewhite casing stones and golden capstones thatmade them really cool in ancient times.They’restillbeautiful,especiallywhenthey’relitupatsunset,butyoucanappreciatethembetterfromfarawaywithoutgettingcaughtinthetouristscene.

That’s thesecond thing: themobsof touristsandvendors. Idon’tcarewhereyougoonvacation:Times Square, Piccadilly Circus, or the Roman Coliseum. It’s always the same, with vendors sellingcheapT-shirtsandtrinkets,andhordesofsweatingtouristscomplainingandshufflingaroundtryingtotakepictures.Thepyramidsarenodifferent,exceptthecrowdsarebiggerandthevendorsarereally,reallypushy.TheyknowalotofEnglishwords,but“no”isn’toneofthem.

Aswepressedthroughthecrowds,thevendorstriedtosellusthreecamelrides,adozenT-shirts,moreamuletsthanWaltwaswearing(Specialprice!Goodmagic!),andelevengenuinemummyfingers,whichIfiguredwereprobablymadeinChina.

IaskedBesifhecouldscareawaythemob,buthejust laughed.“Notworthit,kid.Touristshave

beenherealmostaslongasthepyramids.I’llmakesuretheydon’tnoticeus.Let’sjustgettothetop.”SecurityguardspatrolledthebaseoftheGreatPyramid,butnoonetriedtostopus.MaybeBesmade

usinvisiblesomehow,ormaybetheguardsjustchosetoignoreusbecausewewerewiththedwarfgod.Eitherway, I soon foundoutwhyclimbing thepyramidswasn’tallowed: it’shardanddangerous.TheGreatPyramidisaboutfourhundredandfiftyfeettall.Thestonesideswerenevermeantforclimbing.Asweascended,Ialmostfelltwice.Walttwistedhisankle.Someoftheblockswerelooseandcrumbling.Someofthe“steps”werefivefeettall,andwehadtohoistoneanotherup.Finally,aftertwentyminutesof sweaty, difficultwork,we reached the top.The smogoverCairomade everything to the east a bigfuzzysmudge,buttothewestwehadagoodviewofthesungoingdownonthehorizon,turningthedesertcrimson.

I tried to imaginewhat theviewwould’velookedlikefromhereroughlyfive thousandyearsago,whenthepyramidwasnewlybuilt.HadthepharaohKhufustooduphereatthetopofhisowntombandadmiredhisempire?Probablynot.He’dprobablybeentoosmarttomakethatclimb.

“Right.”Sadieploppedherbagonthenearestblockoflimestone.“Bes,keepaneyeout.Walt,helpmewiththeportal,willyou?”

Ziatouchedmyarm,whichmademejump.“Canwetalk?”sheasked.Sheclimbedalittlewaydownthepyramid.Mypulsewasracing,butImanagedtofollowwithout

trippingandlookinglikeanidiot.Zia stared out over the desert. Her face was flushed in the light of the sunset. “Carter, don’t

misunderstand.Iappreciateyourwakingme.Iknowyourheartwasintherightplace.”Myheartdidn’tfeelintherightplace.Itfeltlikeitwasstuckinmyesophagus.“But…?”Iasked.Shehuggedherarms.“Ineedtime.Thisisverystrangeforme.Maybewecanbe…closersomeday,

butfornow—”“Youneedtime,”Isaid,myvoiceragged.“Assumingwedon’talldietonight.”Hereyeswereluminousgold.Iwonderedifthatwasthelastcolorabugsawwhenitwastrappedin

amber—andifthebugthought,Wow,that’sbeautiful,rightbeforeitwasfrozenforever.“I’lldomybest toprotectyourhome,”shesaid.“Promiseme, if itcomestoachoice, thatyou’ll

listentoyourownheart,notthewillofthegods.”“Ipromise,”Isaid,thoughIdoubtedmyself.IstillheardHorusinmyhead,urgingmetoclaimthe

weaponsofthepharaoh.Iwantedtosaymore,totellherhowIfelt,butallIcouldgetoutwas“Um…yeah.”

Ziamanagedadrysmile.“Sadie’sright.Youare…howdidsheputit?Endearinglyclumsy.”“Awesome.Thanks.”A light flashed aboveus, and a portal opened at the tip of the pyramid.Unlikemost portals, this

wasn’tswirlingsand.Itglowedwithpurplelight—adoorwaystraightintotheDuat.Sadieturnedtowardme.“Thisone’sforus.Coming?”“Becareful,”Ziasaid.“Yeah,”Isaid.“I’mnotsogoodatthat,but—yeah.”AsItrudgedtothetop,SadiepulledWaltcloseandwhisperedsomethinginhisear.Henoddedgrimly.“Iwill.”BeforeIcouldaskwhatthatwasabout,SadielookedatBes.“Ready?”“I’llfollowyou,”Bespromised.“AssoonasIgetWaltandZiathroughtheirportal.I’llmeetyouon

theRiverofNight,intheFourthHouse.”“Thefourthwhat?”Iasked.“You’llsee,”hepromised.“Now,go!”I tookonemore lookatZia,wondering if thiswouldbe the last timeIsawher.ThenSadieandI

jumpedintothechurningpurpledoorway.

TheDuatisastrangeplace.[SadiejustcalledmeCaptainObvious—but,hey,it’sworthsaying.]Thecurrentsofthespiritworldinteractwithyourthoughts,pullingyouhereandthere,shapingwhat

youseetofitwithwhatyouknow.Soeventhoughwehadsteppedintoanotherlevelofreality,itlookedlikethequaysideoftheRiverThamesbelowGranandGramps’sflat.

“Thisisrude,”Sadiesaid.Iunderstoodwhatshemeant.ItwashardforhertobebackinLondonafterherdisastrousbirthday

trip.Also,lastChristmas,we’dstartedourfirstjourneytoBrooklynhere.We’dwalkeddownthesestepstothedockswithAmosandboardedhismagicboat.Atthetime,Iwasgrievingthelossofmydad,inshockthatGranandGrampswouldgiveusuptoanuncleIdidn’tevenremember,andterrifiedofsailingintotheunknown.Now,allthosefeelingswelledupinsideme,assharpandpainfulasever.

The riverwas shroudedwithmist. Therewere no city lights, just an eerie glow in the sky. TheskylineofLondonseemedfluid—buildingsshiftingaround,risingandmeltingas if theycouldn’tfindacomfortableplacetosettle.

Belowus,themistdriftedawayfromthedocks.“Sadie,”Isaid,“Look.”At thebottomof thesteps,aboatwasmoored,but itwasn’tAmos’s. Itwas thebarqueof thesun

god,justlikeI’dseeninmyvision—aonceregalshipwithadeckhouseandplacesfortwentyoarsmen—butitwasnowbarelyabletostayafloat.Thesailwastattered,theoarsbroken,theriggingcoveredwithcobwebs.

Halfwaydownthesteps,blockingourpath,stoodGranandGramps.“Themagain,”Sadiegrowled.“Comeon.”Shemarched straight down the steps until we stood faceto-face with the glowing images of our

grandparents.“Shoveoff,”Sadietoldthem.“Mydear.”Gran’seyesglittered.“Isthatanywaytoaddressyourgrandmother?”“Oh, pardonme,” saidSadie. “Thismust be the partwhere I say ‘My,what big teeth youhave.’

You’renotmygrandmother,Nekhbet!Now,getoutofourway!”TheimageofGranshimmered.Herfloweryhousecoatturnedintoacloakofgreasyblackfeathers.

Herfaceshriveledintoasaggywrinkledmask,andmostofherhairfellout,whichputherata9.5ontheUglymeter,rightuptherewithBes.

“Showmore respect, love,” thegoddesscooed. “We’reonlyhere togiveyoua friendlywarning.You’reabouttopassthePointofNoReturn.Ifyousteponthatboat,therewillbenoturningback—nostoppinguntilyou’vepassedthroughallTwelveHousesoftheNight,oruntilyoudie.”

Grampsbarked,“Aghh!”Hescratchedhisarmpits,whichmight’vemeanthewaspossessedbythebaboongodBabi—ornot,

sincethisbehaviorwasn’ttoostrangeforGramps.“ListentoBabi,”Nekhbeturged.“Youhavenoideawhatawaitsyouontheriver.Youcouldbarely

fendoffthetwoofusinLondon,girl.ThearmiesofChaosaremuchworse!”“She’snotalonethistime.”Isteppedforwardwiththecrookandflail.“Now,getlost.”Grampssnarledandbackedaway.Nekhbet’s eyes narrowed. “You would wield the pharaoh’s weapons?” Her tone held a hint of

grudgingadmiration.“Aboldmove,child,butthatwillnotsaveyou.”“Youdon’tget it,”Isaid.“We’resavingyou too.We’resavingallofus fromApophis.Whenwe

comebackwithRa,you’regoingtohelp.You’regoingtofollowourorders,andyou’regoingtoconvince

theothergodstodothesame.”“Ridiculous,”Nekhbethissed.Iraisedthecrook,andpowerflowedthroughme—thepowerofaking.Thecrookwasthetoolofa

shepherd.Aking leadshispeople likeashepherd leadshis flock. Iexertedmywill,and the twogodscrumpledtotheirknees.

The images of Nekhbet and Gramps evaporated, revealing the gods’ true forms. Nekhbet was amassivevulturewithagoldencrownonherheadandanelaboratejeweledcollararoundherneck.Herwingswere stillblackandgreasy,but theyglistenedas if she’dbeen rolling ingolddust.Babiwasagiantgraybaboonwithfieryredeyes,scimitarfangs,andarmsasthickastreetrunks.

Theybothglaredatmewithpurehatred.IknewifIwaveredevenforamoment,ifIletthepowerofthecrookfalter,theywouldtearmeapart.

“Swearloyalty,”Icommanded.“WhenwereturnwithRa,youwillobeyhim.”“You’llneversucceed,”Nekhbetsaid.“Thenitwon’tdoanyharmtopledgeyourloyalty,”Isaid.“Swearit!”Iraisedthewarflail,andthegodscringed.“Agh,”Babimuttered.“Weswear,”Nekhbetsaid.“Butitisanemptypromise.Yousailtoyourdeath.”Islashedmycrookthroughtheair,andthegodsvanishedintothemist.Sadietookadeepbreath.“Welldone.Yousoundedconfident.”“Acompleteact.”“Iknow,”shesaid.“Nowthehardpart: findingRaandwakinghimup.Andhavinganicedinner

alongtheway,preferably.Withoutdying.”Ilookeddownattheboat.Thoth,thegodofknowledge,hadoncetoldusthatwe’dalwayshavethe

powertosummonaboatwhenweneededone,becausewewerethebloodofthepharaohs.ButI’dneverthought itwould be thisboat, and in such bad shape. Two kids in a broken-down leaky barge, aloneagainsttheforcesofChaos.

“Allaboard,”ItoldSadie.

SADIE

19.TheRevengeofBullwinkletheMooseGod

ISHOULDMENTIONTHATCarterwaswearingaskirt.[Ha!Youarenotgrabbingthemicrophone.It’smyturn.]Heneglectedtotellyouthat,butassoonasweenteredtheDuat,ourappearanceschanged,andwe

foundourselveswearingAncientEgyptianclothes.Theylookedquitegoodonme.Mywhitesilkgownshimmered.Myarmswerebedeckedwithgold

ringsandbracelets.True,thejeweledneckcollarwasabitheavy,likeoneofthoseleadapronsyoumightwearforanXrayatthedentist’s,andmyhairwasplaitedwithenoughhairspraytopetrifyamajorgod.ButotherwiseI’msureIlookedratheralluring.

Carter,ontheotherhand,wasdressedinaman-skirt—asimplelinenwrap,withhiscrookandflailhanging fromautility-belt sortof thingaroundhiswaist.Hischestwasbareexcept for agoldenneckcollar,likemine.Hiseyeswerelinedwithkohl,andheworenoshoes.

ToAncientEgyptians,I’msurehewould’velookedregalandwarlike,afinespecimenofmanhood.[Yousee? Imanaged to say thatwithout laughing.]And I supposeCarterwasn’t theworst-lookingguywithhisshirtoff,butthatdidn’tmeanIwantedtoadventurethroughtheunderworldwithabrotherwhowaswearingnothingbutjewelryandabeachtowel.

Aswesteppedontothesungod’sboat,Carterimmediatelygotasplinterinhisfoot.“Whyareyoubarefooted?”Idemanded.“Itwasn’tmyidea!”Hewincedashepluckedatoothpick-sizepieceofdeckfrombetweenhistoes.

“Iguessbecauseancientwarriors foughtbarefoot.Sandalsgot tooslipperyfromsweatandblood,andall.”

“Andtheskirt?”“Let’sjustgo,allright?”Thatprovedeasiersaidthandone.Theboatdriftedawayfromthedocks,thengotstuckinabackwaterafewmetersdownstream.We

beganturningincircles.“Tinyquestion,”Isaid.“Doyouknowanythingaboutboats?”“Nothing,”Carteradmitted.Our tattered sailwas about as useful as a ripped tissue. The oarswere either broken or trailing

uselesslyinthewater,andtheylookedquiteheavy.Ididn’tseehowthetwoofuscouldrowaboatmeantforacrewoftwenty,even if theriverstayedcalm.OnourlasttripthroughtheDuat,theridehadbeenmorelikearollercoaster.

“Whataboutthoseglowingballsoflight?”Iasked.“LikethecrewwehadontheEgyptianQueen?”“Canyousummonsome?”“Right,”Igrumbled.“Throwthehardquestionsbacktome.”I looked around the boat, hoping to spot a button that read: push here for glowing sailors! I saw

nothingsohelpful.Iknewthesungod’sbarqueoncehadhadacrewoflights.I’dseentheminmyvision.Buthowtosummonthem?

The tent pavilionwas empty. The throne of firewas gone. The boatwas silent except forwatergurglingthroughthecracksinthehull.Thespinningoftheshipwasstartingtomakemesick.

Thenahorriblefeelingcreptoverme.Adozentinyvoiceswhisperedatthebaseofmyskull:Isis.

Schemer.Poisoner.Traitor.Irealizedmynauseawasn’t justfromthespiralingcurrent.Theentireshipwassendingmalicious

thoughtsmyway.Theboardsundermyfeet,therailing,theoarsandrigging—everypartofthesungod’sbarquehatedmypresence.

“Carter,theboatdoesn’tlikeme,”Iannounced.“You’resayingtheboathasgoodtaste?”“Ha-ha. I mean, it senses Isis. She poisoned Ra and forced him into exile, after all. This boat

remembers.”“Well…apologize,orsomething.”“Hullo,boat,”Isaid,feelingquitefoolish.“Sorryabout thepoisoningbusiness.Butyousee—I’m

notIsis.I’mSadieKane.”Traitor,thevoiceswhispered.“Icanseewhyyou’dthinkso,”Iadmitted.“Iprobablyhavethat‘Isismagic’smelltome,don’tI?

Buthonestly,IsentIsispacking.Shedoesn’tlivehereanymore.MybrotherandIaregoingtobringbackRa.”

Theboatshuddered.Thedozenlittlevoicesfellsilent,asifforthefirsttimeintheirimmortallivestheyweretrulyandproperlystunned.(Well,theyhadn’tmetmeyet,hadthey?)

“Thatwouldbegood,yes?”Iventured.“Raback,justlikeoldtimes,rollingontheriver,andsoon?We’reheretomakethingsright,buttodothatweneedtojourneythroughtheHousesoftheNight.Ifyoucouldjustcooperate—”

Adozenglowingorbsblazedtolife.Theycircledmelikeanangryswarmofflamingtennisballs,theirheatsointense,Ithoughtthey’dcombustmynewdress.

“Sadie,”Carterwarned.“Theydon’tlookhappy.”AndhewonderswhyIcalledhimCaptainObvious.Itriedtoremaincalm.“Behave,” I told the lights sternly. “This isn’t forme. It’s forRa. Ifyouwantyourpharaohback,

you’llmanyourstations.”I thought I’dbe roasted likea tandoorichicken,but I stoodmyground.Since Iwassurrounded, I

reallyIhadnochoice.Iexertedmymagicandtriedtobendthelightstomywill—thewayImighthavedonetoturnsomeoneintoaratoralizard.

Youwillbehelpful,Iordered.Youwilldoyourworkobediently.Therewas a collective hiss insidemyhead,which eithermeant I’d blown a brain gasket, or the

lightswererelenting.The crew scattered. They took up their stations, hauling lines, mending the sail, manning the

unbrokenoars,andguidingthetiller.Theleakyhullgroanedastheboatturneditsnosedownstream.Carterexhaled.“Goodjob.Youokay?”Inodded,butmyheadfeltlikeitwasstillspinningincircles.Iwasn’tsureifI’dconvincedtheorbs,

oriftheyweresimplybidingtheirtime,waitingforrevenge.Eitherway,Iwasn’tthrilledtohaveputourfateintheirhands.

Wesailedintothedark.ThecityscapeofLondonmeltedaway.Mystomachgotthatfamiliarfree-fallsensationaswepasseddeeperintotheDuat.

“We’reenteringtheSecondHouse,”Iguessed.Cartergrabbedthemasttosteadyhimself.“YoumeantheHousesoftheNight,likeBesmentioned?

Whatarethey,anyway?”It felt strange to be explainingEgyptianmyths toCarter. I thought hemight be teasingme, but he

seemedgenuinelyperplexed.

“SomethingIreadintheBookofRa,”Isaid.“Eachhourofthenightisa‘House.’Wehavetopassthroughthetwelvestagesoftheriver,representingtwelvehoursofthenight.”

Carterpeeredintothedarknessaheadofus.“Soifwe’reintheSecondHouse,youmeananhourhasalreadypassed?Itdidn’tfeelthatlong.”

Hewasright. Itdidn’t.Thenagain, Ihadno ideahowtimeflowedin theDuat.OneHouseof theNightmightnotcorrespondexactlytoonemortalhourintheworldabove.

Anubisoncetoldmehe’dbeenintheLandoftheDeadforfivethousandyears,buthestillfeltlikeateenager,asifnotimehadpassed.

Ishuddered.WhatifwepoppedoutontheothersideoftheRiverofNightandfoundthatseveraleonshadpassed?I’djustturnedthirteen.Iwasn’treadytobethirteenhundred.

IalsowishedIhadn’tthoughtofAnubis.Itouchedtheshenamuletonmynecklace.Afterallthathadhappened withWalt, the idea of seeing Anubis made me feel strangely guilty, but also a bit excited.PerhapsAnubiswouldhelpusonourjourney.Perhapshe’dwhiskmeawaytosomeprivatespotforachatashehadlasttimewe’dvisitedtheDuat—aromanticlittlegraveyard,dinnerfortwoattheCoffinCafé…

Snapoutofit,Sadie,Ithought.Concentrate.IpulledtheBookofRafrommybagandscannedtheinstructionsagain.I’dreadthemseveraltimes

already,buttheywerecrypticandconfusing—muchlikeamathstextbook.Thescrollwaschock-fullofterms like“first fromChaos,”“breath intoclay,”“thenight’s flock”“reborn in fire,” “theacresof thesun,”“thekissoftheknife,”“thegambleroflight,”and“thelastscarab”—mostofwhichmadenosensetome.

Igatheredthataswepassedthroughthetwelvestagesoftheriver,I’dhavetoreadthethreesectionsoftheBookofRaatthreeseparatelocations,probablytorevivethedifferentaspectsofthesungod,andeachofthreeaspectswouldpresentuswithsomesortofchallenge.IknewthatifIfailed—ifIsomuchasstumbledoveronewordwhilereadingthespells—IwouldendupworsethanVladMenshikov.Theideaterrifiedme,but Icouldn’tdwellon thepossibilityof failure. I simplyhad tohope thatwhen the timecame,thescroll’sgibberishwouldmakesense.

Thecurrentaccelerated.Sodidtheleakingoftheboat.Carterdemonstratedhiscombatmagicskillby summoning a bucket and bailing out water, while I concentrated on keeping the crew in line. Thedeeperwesailed into theDuat, themore rebellious theglowingorbsbecame.Theychafedagainstmywill,rememberinghowmuchtheywantedtoincinerateme.

It’sunnerving to floatdownamagic riverwithvoiceswhispering inyourhead:Die, traitor, die.EverysooftenI’dgetthefeelingwewerebeingfollowed.I’dturnandthinkIcouldseeawhitishsmudgeagainst the black, like the afterimage of a flash, but I decided itmust bemy imagination. Evenmoreunnervingwasthedarknessahead—noshoreline,nolandmarks,novisibilityatall.Thecrewcould’vesteeredusstraightintoaboulderorthemouthofamonster,andwewould’vehadabsolutelynowarning.Wejustkeptsailingthroughthedarkemptyvoid.

“Whyisitso…nothing?”Imurmured.Carteremptiedhisbucket.Hemadeanoddsight—aboydressedasapharaohwiththeroyalcrook

andflail,bailingwaterfromaleakyboat.“MaybetheHousesoftheNightfollowhumansleeppatterns,”hesuggested.“Humanwhat?”“Sleeppatterns.Momusedtotellusaboutthembeforebedtime.Remember?”I didn’t. Then again, I’d only been sixwhen ourmum died. She’d been a scientist as well as a

magician,andhadthoughtnothingofreadingusNewton’slawsortheperiodictableasbedtimestories.Most of it had gone over my head, but Iwanted to remember. I’d always been irritated that CarterrememberedMumsomuchbetterthanIdid.

“Sleephasdifferentstages,”Cartersaid.“Like,thefirstfewhours,thebrainisalmostinacoma—areallydeepsleepwithhardlyanydreams.Maybethat’swhythispartoftheriverissodarkandformless.Thenlaterinthenight,thebraingoesthroughR.E.M.—rapideyemovement.That’swhendreamshappen.Thecyclesgetmorerapidandmorevivid.MaybetheHousesoftheNightfollowapatternlikethat.”

Itseemedabitfar-fetchedtome.Thenagain,Mumhadalwaystoldusscienceandmagicweren’tmutuallyexclusive.She’dcalledthemtwodialectsofthesamelanguage.BasthadoncetoldusthereweremillionsofdifferentchannelsandtributariestotheDuat’sriver.Thegeographycouldchangewitheachjourney, responding to the traveler’s thoughts. If the riverwas shapedbyall the sleepingminds in theworld,ifitscoursegotmorevividandcrazyasthenightwentalong,thenwewereinforaroughride.

Therivereventuallynarrowed.Ashorelineappearedoneitherside—blackvolcanicsandsparklinginthelightsofourmagiccrew.Theairturnedcolder.Theundersideoftheboatscrapedagainstrocksandsandbars,whichmadetheleaksworse.Cartergaveuponthepailandpulledwaxfromhissupplybag.Together we tried to plug the leaks, speaking binding spells to hold the boat together. If I’d had anychewinggum,Iwould’veusedthataswell.

Wedidn’tpass any signposts—nowentering the thirdhouse, servicesnext exit—butwe’dclearlyenteredadifferentsectionoftheriver.Timewasslippingawayatanalarmingrate,andstillwehadn’tdoneanything.

“Perhapsthefirstchallengeisboredom,”Isaid.“Whenwillsomethinghappen?”I should’ve known better than to say that aloud. Right in front of us, a shape loomed out of the

darkness.Asandaledfootthesizeofawaterbedplanteditselfontheprowofourshipandstoppedusdeadinthewater.

Itwasn’tanattractivefoot,either.Definitelymale.Itstoesweresplatteredwithmud,anditstoenailswereyellow,cracked,andovergrown.Theleathersandalstrapswerecoveredinlichenandbarnacles.Inshort,thefootlookedandsmelledverymuchlikeithadbeenstandingonthesamerockinthemiddleoftheriver,wearingthesamesandal,forseveralthousandyears.

Unfortunately,itwasattachedtoaleg,whichwasattachedtoabody.Thegiantleaneddowntolookatus.

“Youarebored?”hisvoiceboomed,notinanunfriendlyway.“Icouldkillyou,ifthatwouldhelp.”HeworeakiltlikeCarter’s,exceptthatthegiant’sskirtcouldhavesuppliedenoughfabrictomake

tenshipsails.Hisbodywashumanoidandmuscular,coveredwithman-fur—thesortofgrossbodyhairthatmakesmewanttostartacharitywaxingfoundationforoverlyfuzzymen.Hehadtheheadofaram:awhitesnoutwithabrassringinhisnoseandlongcurlyhornshungwithdozensofbronzebells.Hiseyesweresetfarapart,withluminousredirisesandverticalslitsforpupils.Isupposethatallsoundsratherfrightening,buttherammandidn’tstrikemeasdevilish.Infacthelookedquitefamiliar,forsomereason.He seemedmoremelancholy than threatening, as if he’d been standing on his little rock island in themiddleoftheriverforsolong,he’dforgottenwhyhewasthere.

[CarteraskswhenIbecamearamwhisperer.Doshutup,Carter.]Ihonestlyfeltsorryfortheramman.Hiseyeswerefullofloneliness.Icouldn’tbelievehewould

hurtus—untilhedrewfromhisbelttwoverylargekniveswithcurlybladeslikehishorns.“You’resilent,”henoted.“Isthatayesforthekilling?”“No,thanks!”Isaid,tryingtosoundgratefulfortheoffer.“Onewordandonequestion,please.The

wordispedicure.Thequestionis:Whoareyou?”“Ahhh-ha-ha-ha,” he said, bleating like a sheep. “If you knew my name, we wouldn’t need

introductions,andIcouldletyoupass.Unfortunately,nooneeverknowsmyname.Ashame,too.Iseeyou’vefoundtheBookofRa.You’verevivedhiscrewandmanagedtosailhisboattothegatesoftheFourthHouse.Noone’severgottenthisfarbefore.I’mterriblysorryIhavetosliceyoutopieces.”

He hefted his knives, one in each hand.Our glowing orbs swarmed in a frenzy,whispering,Yes!

Sliceher!Yes!“Justamo’,”Icalleduptothegiant.“Ifwenameyou,wecanpass?”“Naturally.”Hesighed.“Butnooneevercan.”I glanced at Carter. This wasn’t the first time we’d been stopped on the River of Night and

challenged to name a guardian on pain of death. Apparently, it was quite a common experience forEgyptiansoulsandmagicianspassingthroughtheDuat.ButIcouldn’tbelievewe’dgetsuchaneasytest.IwassurenowthatIrecognizedtheramman.We’dseenhisstatueintheBrooklynMuseum.

“It’shim,isn’tit?”IaskedCarter.“ThechapwholookslikeBullwinkle?”“Don’tcallhimBullwinkle!”Carterhissed.He lookedupat thegiant rammanandsaid,“You’re

Khnum,aren’tyou?”The rammanmadea rumblingsounddeep inhis throat.Hescrapedoneofhisknivesagainst the

ship’srail.“Isthataquestion?Oristhatyourfinalanswer?”Carterblinked.“Um—”“Notour finalanswer!” Iyelped, realizing thatwe’dalmoststepped intoa trap.“Notevenclose.

Khnumisyourcommonname,isn’tit?Youwantustosayyourtruename,yourren.”Khnumtiltedhishead,thebellsonhishornsjingling.“Thatwouldbenice.But,alas,nooneknows

it.EvenIhaveforgottenit.”“Howcanyouforgetyourownname?”Carterasked.“And,yes,that’saquestion.”“IampartofRa,”saidtheramgod.“Iamhisaspectintheunderworld—athirdofhispersonality.

ButwhenRastoppedmakinghisnightlyjourney,henolongerneededme.HeleftmehereatthegatesoftheFourthHouse,discardedlikeanoldcoat.NowIguardthegates…Ihavenootherpurpose.IfIcouldrecovermyname,Icouldyieldmyspirittowhoeverfreesme.TheycouldreunitemewithRa,butuntilthenIcannotleavethisplace.”

Hesoundedhorriblydepressed,likealittlelostsheep,orratheraten-meter-talllostsheepwithverylargeknives.Iwantedtohelphim.Evenmorethanthat,Iwantedtofindawaynottogetmyselfslicedtobits.

“If you don’t remember your name,” I said, “why couldn’t we just tell you any old name?Howwouldyouknowwhetheritwastherightanswerornot?”

Khnumlethisknivestrailinthewater.“Ihadn’tthoughtofthat.”CarterglaredatmeasiftosayWhydidyoutellhim?Theramgodbleated.“IthinkIwillknowmyrenwhenIhearit,”hedecided,“thoughIcannotbe

sure.BeingonlypartofRa,Iamnotsureofmuch.I’velostmostofmymemories,mostofmypowerandidentity.Iamnomorethanahuskofmyformerself.”

“Yourformerselfmust’vebeenenormous,”Imuttered.Thegodmighthavesmiled,thoughitwashardtotellwiththeramface.“I’msorryyoudon’thave

my ren.You’re a bright girl. You’re the first to make it this far. The first and the best.” He sighedforlornly.“Ah,well.Isupposeweshouldgettothekilling.”

Thefirstandthebest.Mymindstartedracing.“Wait,”Isaid.“Iknowyourname.”Carteryelped.“Youdo?Tellhim!”IthoughtofalinefromtheBookofRa—firstfromChaos.IdrewonthememoriesofIsis,theonly

goddesswhohadeverknownRa’ssecretname,andIbegantounderstandthenatureofthesungod.“RawasthefirstgodtoriseoutofChaos,”Isaid.Khnumfrowned.“That’smyname?”“No,justlisten,”Isaid.“Yousaidyou’renotcompletewithoutRa,justahuskofyourformerself.

Butthat’strueofalltheotherEgyptiangodsaswell.Raisolder,morepowerful.He’stheoriginalsourceofMa’at,like—”

“Likethetaprootofthegods,”Cartervolunteered.“Right,”Isaid.“Ihavenoideawhatataprootis,but—right.Alltheseeons,theothergodshavebeenslowlyfading,losingpower,becauseRaismissing.They

mightnotadmitit,buthe’stheirheart.They’redependentonhim.Allthistime,we’vebeenwonderingifitwasworthit,tobringbackRa.Wedidn’tknowwhyitwassoimportant,butnowIunderstand.”

Carternodded,slowlywarmingtotheidea.“Ra’sthecenterofMa’at.Hehastocomeback,ifthegodsaregoingtowin.”

“Andthat’swhyApophiswantstobringbackRa,”Iguessed.“Thetwoareconnected—Ma’atandChaos.IfApophiscanswallowRawhilethesungodisoldandweak—”

“Allthegodsdie,”Cartersaid.“TheworldcrumblesintoChaos.”Khnumturnedhisheadsohecouldstudymewithoneglowingredeye.“That’sallquiteinteresting,”

hesaid.“ButI’mnothearingmysecretname.TowakeRa,youmustfirstnameme.”IopenedtheBookofRaandtookadeepbreath.Ibegantoreadthefirstpartofthespell.Now,you

maybethinking,Gosh,Sadie.Yourbigtestwastoreadsomewordsoffascroll?What’ssohardaboutthat?

If you think that, you’ve clearly never read a spell. Imagine reading aloud onstage in front of athousandhostileteacherswhoarewaitingtogiveyoubadmarks.Imagineyoucanonlyreadbylookingatthe backward reflection in amirror. Imagine all thewords aremixed around, and you have to put thesentences together in the right order as you go. Imagine if you make one mistake, one stumble, onemispronunciation,you’lldie.Imaginedoingallthatatonce,andyou’llhavesomeideawhatit’sliketocastaspellfromascroll.

Despitethat,Ifeltstrangelyconfident.Thespellsuddenlymadesense.“‘InameyouFirstfromChaos,’”Isaid.“‘Khnum,whoisRa,theeveningsun.Isummonyourbato

awakentheGreatOne,forIam—’”Myfirstnear-fatalmistake:thescrollsaidsomethinglikeinsertyournamehere.AndIalmostread

italoudthatway:“ForIaminsertyournamehere!”Well?Itwould’vebeenanhonestmistake.Instead,Imanagedtosay,“‘IamSadieKane,restorerof

thethroneoffire.InameyouBreathintoClay,theRamofNight’sFlock,theDivine—’”Ialmostlostitagain.IwassuretheEgyptiantitlesaidtheDivinePooter.Butthatmadenosense,

unlessKhnumhadmagicpowersIdidn’twanttoknowabout.Thankfully,IrememberedsomethingfromtheBrooklynMuseum.Khnumhadbeendepictedasapottersculptingahumanfromclay.

“‘—theDivinePotter,’”Icorrectedmyself.“‘InameyouKhnum,protectorofthefourthgate.Ireturnyourname.IreturnyouressencetoRa.’”

Thegod’shugeeyesdilated.Hisnostrilsflared.“Yes.”Hesheathedhisknives.“Welldone,mylady.YoumaypassintotheFourthHouse.Butbewarethefires,andbepreparedforthesecondformofRa.Hewillnotbesogratefulforyourhelp.”

“Whatdoyoumean?”Iasked.But theramgod’sbodydissolvedintomist.TheBookofRasuckedin thewispsofsmoke,andit

rolledshut.Khnumandhisislandweregone.Theboatdriftedonintoanarrowertunnel.“Sadie,”Cartersaid,“thatwasamazing.”Normally,Iwould’vebeenhappytoastonishhimwithmybrilliance.Butmyheartwasracing.My

handsweresweating,andI thoughtImight throwup.Ontopof that,Icouldfeel theglowingorbcrewcomingoutoftheirshock,beginningtofightmeagain.

Noslice,theycomplained.Noslice!Mindyourownbusiness,Ithoughtbackatthem.Andkeeptheboatgoing.“Um,Sadie?”Carterasked.“Whyisyourfaceturningred?”Ithoughthewasaccusingmeofblushing.ThenIrealizedhetoowasred.Thewholeboatwasawash

inrubylight.Iturnedtolookaheadofus,andImadeasoundinmythroatnottoodifferentfromKhnum’sbleating.

“Oh,no,”Isaid.“Notthisplaceagain.”Roughly a hundred meters ahead of us, the tunnel opened into a huge cavern. I recognized the

massiveboilingLakeofFire;butthelasttimeIhadn’tseenitfromthisangle.Wewerepickingup speed,headingdowna seriesof rapids likeawater slide.At theendof the

rapids,thewaterturnedintoafierywaterfallanddroppedstraightdownintothelakeabouthalfamilebelow.Wewerehurtlingtowardtheprecipicewithabsolutelynowaytostop.

Keeptheboatgoing,thecrewwhisperedwithglee.Keeptheboatgoing!

Weprobablyhadlessthanaminute,butitseemedlonger.Isupposeiftimeflieswhenyou’rehavingfun,itreallycreepswhenyou’rehurtlingtowardyourdeath.

“We’vegottoturnaround!”Cartersaid.“Evenifthatwasn’tfire,we’llneversurvivethedrop!”Hebeganyellingattheorbsoflight,“Turnaround!Paddle!Mayday!”Theyhappilyignoredhim.IstaredattheflamingdroptooblivionandtheLakeofFirebelow.Despitethewavesofheatrolling

overuslikedragonbreath,Ifeltcold.Irealizedwhatneededtohappen.“‘Reborninfire,’”Isaid.“What?”Carterasked.“It’salinefromtheBookofRa.Wecan’tturnaround.Wehavetogoover—straightintothelake.”“Areyoucrazy?We’llburnup!”Irippedopenmymagicbagandrummagedthroughmysupplies.“Wehavetotaketheshipthrough

thefire.Thatwaspartofthesun’snightlyrebirth,right?Rawouldhavedoneit.”“Rawasn’tflammable!”Thewaterfallwasonlytwentymetersawaynow.MyhandstrembledasIpouredinkintomywriting

palette.Ifyou’venevertriedtouseacalligraphysetwhilestandinguponaboat,itisn’teasy.“Whatareyoudoing?”Carterasked.“Writingyourwill?”I took a deep breath and dippedmy stylus in black ink. I visualized the hieroglyphs I needed. I

wishedZiawerewith us.Not just becausewe had hit it off ratherwell inCairo—[Oh, stop pouting,Carter.It’snotmyfaultsherealizedI’mthebrilliantoneinthefamily]—butbecauseZiawasanexpertwithfireglyphs,andthat’sjustwhatweneeded.

“Pushupyourhair,”ItoldCarter.“Ineedtopaintyourforehead.”“I’mnotplungingtomydeathwithloserpaintedonmyhead!”“I’mtryingtosaveyou.Hurry!”He pushed his hair out of theway. I painted the glyphs for fire and shield on his forehead, and

immediatelymybrotherburstintoflame.Iknow—itwas likeadreamcome trueandanightmare, all atonce.Hedancedaround, spewing

someverycreativecursewordsbeforerealizingthatthefirewasn’thurtinghim.Hewassimplyencasedinaprotectivesheetofflames.

“What,exactly—”Hiseyeswidened.“Holdontosomething!”Theboattippedsickeninglyovertheedgeofthefalls.Idashedthehieroglyphsontothebackofmy

hand,but itwasn’tagoodcopy.The flamessplutteredweaklyaroundme.Alas, Ididn’thave timeforanythingbetter.Iwrappedmyarmsaroundtherail,andweplummetedstraightdown.

Strangehowmanythingscangothroughyourmindasyoufalltocertaindoom.Fromuphigh,theLakeofFirelookedquitebeautiful,likethesurfaceofthesun.IwonderedifIwouldfeelanypainonimpact,orifwewouldsimplyevaporate.Itwashardtoseeanythingasweplummetedthroughtheashandsmoke,butI

thought I spotted a familiar island about amile away—the black templewhere I’d firstmetAnubis. Iwonderedifhecouldseemefromthere,andifhewouldrushtomyrescue.Iwonderedifmychancesofsurvivalwouldbebetter if Ipushedawayfromtheboatandfell likeacliffdiver,but Icouldn’tmakemyselfdoit.Iheldontotherailwithallmymight.Iwasn’tsureifthemagicalfireshieldwasprotectingme,butIwassweatingfiercely,andIwasfairlycertainI’dleftmythroatandmostofmyinternalorgansatthetopofthewaterfall.

Finallywehitbottomwithanunderstatedwhooooom.Howtodescribethesensationofplungingintoalakeofliquidfire?Well…itburned.Andyetitwas

somehowwet,too.Ididn’tdarebreathe.Afteramoment’shesitation,Iopenedmyeyes.AllIcouldseewereswirlingredandyellowflames.Wewerestillunderwater…orunderfire?Irealizedtwothings:Iwasnotburningtodeath,andtheboatwasmovingforward.

I couldn’t believemy crazy protection glyphs had actually worked. As the boat slid through theswirlingcurrentsofheat,thevoicesofthecrewwhisperedinmymind—morejoyfulthanangrynow.

Renew,theysaid.Newlife.Newlight.Thatsoundedpromisinguntil Igraspedsome lesspleasant facts. Istillcouldn’tbreathe.Mybody

likedbreathing.Also,itwasgettingmuchhotter.Icouldfeelmyprotectionglyphfailing,theinkburningagainstmyhand.Ireachedoutblindlyandgrabbedanarm—Carter’s,Iassumed.Weheldhands,andeventhoughIcouldn’tseehim,itwascomfortingtoknowhewasthere.Perhapsitwasmyimagination,buttheheatseemedtolessen.

Longago,Amoshadtoldusthatweweremorepowerfultogether.Weincreasedeachother’smagicjustbybeinginproximity.Ihopedthatwastruenow.ItriedtosendmythoughtstoCarter,urginghimtohelpmemaintainthefireshield.

Theshipsailedonthroughtheflames.Ithoughtwewerestartingtoascend,butitmighthavebeenwishfulthinking.Myvisionbegantogodark.Mylungswerescreaming.IfIinhaledfire,IwonderedifIwouldenduplikeVladMenshikov.

JustwhenIknewIwouldpassout,theboatsurgedupward,andwebrokethesurface.Igasped—andnotjustbecauseIneededtheair.Wehaddockedattheshorelineoftheboilinglake,

infrontofalargelimestonegateway,liketheentrancetotheancienttempleI’dseenatLuxor.IwasstillholdingCarter’shand.AsfarasIcouldtell,wewerebothfine.

Thesunboatwasbetterthanfine.Ithadbeenrenewed.Itssailgleamedwhite,thesymbolofthesunshininggoldinitscenter.Theoarswererepairedandnewlypolished.Thepaintwasfreshlylacqueredblack and gold and green. The hull no longer leaked, and the tent house was once more a beautifulpavilion.Therewasnothrone,andnoRa,butthecrewglowedbrightlyandcheerfullyastheytiedoffthelinestothedock.

Icouldn’thelpit.IthrewmyarmsaroundCarterandletoutasob.“Areyouallright?”Hepulledawayawkwardlyandnodded.Theglyphonhisforeheadhadburnedoff.“Thankstoyou,”hesaid.“Where—”“SunnyAcres,”saidafamiliarvoice.Bes came down the steps to the dock.Hewore a new, even louderHawaiian shirt and only his

Speedo for pants, so I can’t say hewas a sight for sore eyes.Now that hewas in theDuat, he fairlyglowedwithpower.Hishairhadturneddarkerandcurlier,andhisfacelookeddecadesyounger.

“Bes!”Isaid.“Whattookyousolong?AreWaltandZia—”“They’refine,”hesaid.“AndItoldyouI’dmeetyouattheFourthHouse.”Hejabbedhisthumbata

sign carved into the limestone archway. “Used to be called the House of Rest. Apparently they’vechangedthename.”

Thesignwasinhieroglyphs,butIhadnotroublereadingit.“‘Sunny Acres Assisted-Living Community,’” I read. “‘Formerly the House of Rest. Under New

Management.’Whatexactly—”“Weshouldgetgoing,”Bessaid.“Beforeyourstalkerarrives.”“Stalker?”Carterasked.Bes pointed to the top of the fiery waterfall, now a good half mile away. At first I didn’t see

anything.Thentherewasastreakofwhiteagainsttheredflames—asifamaninanicecreamsuithadplunged into the lake.Apparently I hadn’t imagined thatwhite smudge in thedarkness.Wewere beingfollowed.

“Menshikov?”Isaid.“That’s—that’s—”“Badnews,”Bessaid.“Now,comeon.Wehavetofindthesungod.”

SADIE

20.WeVisittheHouseoftheHelpfulHippo

HOSPITALS.CLASSROOMS.NowI’lladdtomylistofleast-favoriteplaces:oldpeople’shomes.Thatmaysoundodd,asIlivedwithmygrandparents.Isupposetheirflatcountsasanoldpeople’s

home.ButImeaninstitutions.Nursinghomes.Thosearetheworst.Theysmelllikeanunholymixtureofcanteenfood,cleaningsupplies,andpensioners.Theinmates(sorry,patients)alwayslooksomiserable.Andthehomeshaveabsurdlyhappynames,likeSunnyAcres.Please.

Westeppedthroughthelimestonegatewayintoalargeopenhall—theEgyptianversionofassistedliving. Rows of colorfully painted columns were studded with iron sconces holding blazing torches.Pottedpalmsand floweringhibiscusplantswereplacedhereand there ina failedattempt tomake theplacefeelcheerful.LargewindowslookedoutontheLakeofFire,whichIsupposewasaniceviewifyou enjoyedbrimstone.Thewallswere paintedwith scenes of theEgyptian afterlife, alongwith jollyhieroglyphicmottoslikeimmortalitywithsecurityandlifestartsat3000!

Glowingservant lightsandclayshabti inwhitemedicaluniformsbustledabout, carrying traysofmedicationandpushingwheelchairs.Thepatients,however,didn’tbustlemuch.Adozenwitheredfiguresin linen hospital gowns sat around the room, staring vacantly into space. A fewwandered the room,pushingwheeliepoleswithIVbags.Allworebraceletswiththeirnamesinhieroglyphs.

Somelookedhuman,butmanyhadanimalheads.Anoldmanwiththeheadofacranerockedbackandforthinametalfoldingchair,peckingatagameofsenetonthecoffeetable.Anoldwomanwithagrizzledlioness’sheadscootedherselfaroundinawheelchair,mumbling,“Meow,meow.”Ashriveledblue-skinnedmannotmuchtallerthanBeshuggedoneofthelimestonecolumnsandcriedsoftly,asifhewereafraidthecolumnmighttrytoleavehim.

Inotherwords,thescenewasthoroughlydepressing.“Whatisthisplace?”Iasked.“Arethoseallgods?”CarterseemedjustasmystifiedasIwas.Beslookedlikehewasabouttocrawloutofhisskin.“Neveractuallybeenhere,”headmitted.“Heardrumors,but…”Heswallowedasifhe’djusteaten

aspoonfulofpeanutbutter.“Comeon.Let’saskatthenurses’station.”Thedeskwasacrescentofgranitewitharowoftelephones(thoughIcouldn’timaginewhothey’d

callfromtheDuat),acomputer,lotsofclipboards,andaplatter-sizestonediskwithatriangularfin—asundial,whichseemedstrange,astherewasnosun.

Behind the counter, a short, heavywoman stoodwithherback tous, checking awhiteboardwithnames and medication times. Her glossy black hair was plaited down her back like an extra-largebeaver’stail,andhernurse’scapbarelyfitonherwidehead.

WewerehalfwaytothedeskwhenBesfroze.“It’sher.”“Who?”Carterasked.“Thisisbad.”Besturnedpale.“Ishould’veknown….Curseit!You’llhavetogowithoutme.”Ilookedmorecloselyatthenurse,whostillhadherbacktous.Shedidseemabitimposing,with

massive beefy arms, a neck thicker than my waist, and oddly tinted purplish skin. But I couldn’tunderstandwhyshebotheredBessomuch.

Iturnedtoaskhim,butBeshadduckedbehindthenearestpottedplant.Itwasn’tbigenoughtohidehim,andcertainlydidn’tcamouflagehisHawaiianshirt.

“Bes,stopit,”Isaid.

“Shhh!I’minvisible!”Cartersighed.“Wedon’thavetimeforthis.Comeon,Sadie.”Heledthewaytothenurses’station.“Excuseus,”hecalledacrossthedesk.Thenurseturned,andIyelped.Itriedtocontainmyshock,butitwasdifficult,asthewomanwasa

hippopotamus.I don’t mean that as an unflattering comparison. She was actually a hippo. Her long snout was

shaped like an upsidedown valentine heart,with bristlywhiskers, tiny nostrils, and amouthwith twolarge bottom teeth.Her eyeswere small and beady.Her face looked quite odd framedwith luxuriousblackhair,butitwasn’tnearlyaspeculiarasherbody.Sheworehernurse’sblouseopenlikeajacket,revealingabikinitopthat—howtoputthisdelicately—wastryingtocoveraverygreatdealoftopwithverylittlefabric.Herpurple-pinkbellywasincrediblyswollen,asifshewereninemonthspregnant.

“MayIhelpyou?”sheasked.Hervoicewaspleasantandkindly—notwhatonewouldexpectfromahippopotamus.Cometothinkofit,Iwouldn’texpectanyvoicefromahippopotamus.

“Um,hippo—Imean,hullo!”Istammered.“MybrotherandIarelookingfor…”IglancedatCarterandfoundhewasnotstaringatthenurse’sface.“Carter!”

“What?”Heshookhimselfoutofhis trance.“Right.Sorry.Uh,aren’tyouagoddess?Tawaret,orsomething?”

ThehippowomanbaredhertwoenormousteethinwhatIhopedwasasmile.“Why,hownicetoberecognized!Yes,dear.I’mTawaret.Yousaidyouwerelookingforsomeone?Arelative?Areyougods?”

Behind us, the potted hibiscus rustled asBes picked it up and tried tomove it behind a column.Tawaret’seyeswidened.

“IsthatBes?”shecalled.“Bes!”Thedwarfstoodabruptlyandbrushedoffhisshirt.HisfacewasredderthanSet’s.“Plantlookslike

it’sgettingenoughwater,”hemuttered.“Ishouldchecktheonesoverthere.”Hestartedtowalkaway,butTawaretcalledagain,“Bes!It’sme,Tawaret!Overhere!”Besstiffenedlikeshe’dshothimintheback.Heturnedwithatorturedsmile.“Well…hey.Tawaret.Wow!”She scrambled out from the behind the desk, wearing high heels that seemed inadvisable for a

pregnantwatermammal.Shespreadherchubbyarmsforahug,andBesthrustouthishandtoshake.Theyendedupdoinganawkwardsortofdance,halfhug,halfshake,whichmadeonethingperfectlyobvioustome.

“So,youtwousedtodate?”Iasked.Besshoteye-daggersatme.Tawaretblushed,whichmadeit thefirst timeI’deverembarrasseda

hippo.“Alongtimeago…”Tawaretturnedtothedwarfgod.“Bes,howareyou?Afterthathorribletimeat

thepalace,Iwasafraid—”“Good!”heshouted.“Yes,thanks.Good.You’regood?Good!We’rehereonimportantbusiness,as

Sadiewasabouttotellyou.”Hekickedmeintheshin,whichIthoughtquiteunnecessary.“Yes,right,”Isaid.“We’relookingforRa,toawakenhim.”IfBeshadbeenhopingtoredirectTawaret’strainofthought,theplanworked.Tawaretopenedher

mouthinasilentgasp,andasifI’djustsuggestedsomethinghorrible,likeahippohunt.“AwakenRa?”shesaid.“Oh,dear…oh,thatisunfortunate.Bes,you’rehelpingthemwiththis?”“Uh-hum,”hestuttered.“Just,youknow—”“Besisdoingusafavor,”Isaid.“OurfriendBastaskedhimtolookafterus.”I could tell right away I’d made matters worse. The temperature in the air seemed to drop ten

degrees.“Isee,”Tawaretsaid.“AfavorforBast.”Iwasn’t surewhat I’dsaidwrong,but I triedmybest tobacktrack.“Please.Look, the fateof the

worldisatstakeIt’sveryimportantwefindRa.”Tawaretcrossedherarmsskeptically.“Dear,he’sbeenmissingformillennia.Andtryingtoawaken

himwouldbeterriblydangerous.Whynow?”“Tellher,Sadie.”Besinchedbackwardasifpreparingtodiveintothehibiscus.“Nosecretshere.

Tawaretcanbetrustedcompletely.”“Bes!”Sheperkedupimmediatelyandflutteredhereyelashes.“Doyoumeanthat?”“Sadie,talk!”Bespleaded.AndsoIdid.IshowedTawarettheBookofRa.Iexplainedwhyweneededtowakethesungod—

thethreatofApophis’sascension,masschaosanddestruction,theworldabouttoendatsunrise,etcetera.Itwasdifficult to judgeherhippoishexpressions[Yes,Carter, I’msure that’saword],butas I spoke,Tawarettwirledherlongblackhairnervously.

“That’snotgood,”shesaid.“Notgoodatall.”Sheglancedbehindheratthesundial.Despitethelackofsun,theneedlecastaclearshadowover

thehieroglyphicnumberfive:

“You’rerunningoutoftime,”shesaid.Carterfrownedatthesundial.“Isn’tthisplacetheFourthHouseoftheNight?”“Yes,dear,”Tawaretagreed.“Itgoesbydifferentnames—SunnyAcres,theHouseofRest—butit’s

alsotheFourthHouse.”“Sohowcanthesundialbeonfive?”heasked.“Shouldn’twebe,like,frozenatthefourthhour?”“Doesn’t work that way, kid,” Bes put in. “Time in the mortal world doesn’t stop passing just

becauseyou’reintheFourthHouse.Ifyouwanttofollowthesungod’svoyage,youhavetokeepinsynchwithhistiming.”

Ifeltahead-splittingexplanationcomingon.IwasreadytoacceptblissfulignoranceandgetonwithfindingRa,butCarter,naturally,wouldn’tletitdrop.

“Sowhathappensifwegettoofarbehind?”heasked.Tawaretcheckedthesundialagain,whichwasslowlycreepingpastfive.“Thehousesareconnected

totheirtimesofnight.Youcanstayineachoneaslongasyouwant,butyoucanonlyenterorexitthemclosetothehourstheyrepresent.”

“Uh-huh.”Irubbedmytemples.“Doyouhaveanyheadachemedicinebehindthatnurses’station?”“It’snot that confusing,” saidCarter, just tobeannoying. “It’s likea revolvingdoor.Youhave to

waitforanopeningandjumpin.”“Moreor less,”Tawaretagreed.“Thereisa littlewiggle roomwithmostof theHouses.Youcan

leavetheFourthHouse,forinstance,prettymuchwheneveryouwant.Butcertaingatesareimpossibletopassunlessyoutimeitexactlyright.YoucanonlyentertheFirstHouseatsunset.YoucanonlyexittheTwelfthHouseatdawn.AndthegatesoftheEighthHouse,theHouseofChallenges…canonlybeenteredduringtheeighthhour.”

“HouseofChallenges?”Isaid.“Ihateitalready.”“Oh,youhaveBeswithyou.”Tawaretstaredathimdreamily.“Thechallengeswon’tbeaproblem.”

Besshotmeapanickedlook,like,Saveme!“Butifyoutaketoolong,”Tawaretcontinued,“thegateswillclosebeforeyoucangetthere.You’ll

belockedintheDuatuntiltomorrownight.”“Andifwedon’tstopApophis,”Isaid,“therewon’tbeatomorrownight.ThatpartIunderstand.”“Socanyouhelpus?”CarteraskedTawaret.“WhereisRa?”Thegoddessfidgetedwithherhair.Herhandswereacrossbetweenhumanandhippo,withshort

stubbyfingersandthicknails.“That’stheproblem,dear,”shesaid.“Idon’tknow.TheFourthHouseisenormous.Raisprobably

heresomewhere,butthehallwaysanddoorsgoonforever.Wehavesomanypatients.”“Don’tyoukeeptrackofthem?”Carterasked.“Isn’tthereamaporsomething?”Tawaretshookherheadsadly.“Idomybest,butit’sjustme,theshabtiandtheservantlights….And

therearethousandsofoldgods.”Myheartsank.IcouldbarelykeeptrackofthetenorsomajorgodsI’dmet,butthousands?Inthis

roomalone, Icountedadozenpatients, sixhallways leadingoff indifferentdirections, twostaircases,andthreeelevators.Perhapsitwasmyimagination,butitseemedasifsomeofthehallwayshadappearedsincewe’denteredtheroom.

“Alltheseoldfolksaregods?”Iasked.Tawaret nodded. “Mostwereminor deities even in ancient times. Themagicians didn’t consider

themworthimprisoning.Overthecenturies,they’vewastedaway,lonelyandforgotten.Eventuallytheymadetheirwayhere.Theysimplywait.”

“Todie?”Iasked.Tawaretgotafarawaylookinhereyes.“IwishIknew.Sometimestheydisappear,butIdon’tknow

iftheysimplygetlostwanderingthehalls,orfindanewroomtohidein,ortrulyfadetonothing.Thesadtruthisitamountstothesamething.Theirnameshavebeenforgottenbytheworldabove.Onceyournameisnolongerspoken,whatgoodislife?”

SheglancedatBes,asiftryingtotellhimsomething.Thedwarfgod lookedawayquickly. “That’sMekhit, isn’t it?”Hepointed to theold lionwoman

whowasmakingherwayaround inawheelchair. “Shehada templenearAbydos, I think.Minor liongoddess.AlwaysgotconfusedwithSekhmet.”

The lioness snarledweaklywhenBes said the nameSekhmet.Then shewent back to rolling herchair,muttering,“Meow,meow.”

“Sadstory,”Tawaretsaid.“Shecameherewithherhusband,thegodOnuris.Theywereacelebritycouple in the old days, so romantic. He once traveled all the way to Nubia to rescue her. They gotmarried. Happy ending, we all thought. But they were both forgotten. They came here together. ThenOnuris disappeared.Mekhit’smind began to go quickly after that.Now she rolls her chair around theroomaimlesslyallday.Shecan’trememberherownname,thoughwekeepremindingher.”

I thought aboutKhnum,whomwe’dmet on the river, andhow sadhe’d seemed, not knowinghissecret name. I looked at the old goddess Mekhit, meowing and snarling and scooting along with nomemoryofherformerglory.Iimaginedtryingtocareforathousandgodslikethat—seniorcitizenswhonevergotbetterandneverdied.

“Tawaret,howcanyoustandit?”Isaidinawe.“Whydoyouworkhere?”She touchedhernurse’scapself-consciously.“A longstory,dear.Andwehavevery little time. I

wasn’talwayshere.Iwasonceaprotectorgoddess.Iscaredawaydemons,thoughnotaswellasBes.”“Youwereplentyscary,”Bessaid.Thehippogoddesssighedwithadoration.“That’ssosweet.Ialsoprotectedmothersgivingbirth—”“Becauseyou’repregnant?”Carterasked,noddingatherenormousbelly.Tawaretlookedmystified.“No.Whywouldyouthinkthat?”

“Um—”“So!”Ibrokein.“Youwereexplainingwhyyoutakecareofaginggods.”Tawaretcheckedthesundial,andIwasalarmedtoseehowfast theshadowwascreepingtoward

six.“I’vealways liked tohelppeople,but in theworldabove,well…itbecameclearIwasn’tneededanymore.”

ShewascarefulnottolookatBes,butthedwarfgodblushedevenmore.“Someonewas needed to look after the aging gods,” Tawaret continued. “I suppose I understand

theirsadness.Iunderstandaboutwaitingforever—”Bescoughedintohisfist.“Lookat thetime!Yes,aboutRa.Haveyouseenhimsinceyou’vebeen

workinghere?”Tawaretconsidered.“It’spossible.Isawafalcon-headedgodinaroominthesoutheastwing,oh,

agesago.IthoughtitwasNemty,butit’spossibleitcouldhavebeenRa.Hesometimeslikedtogoaboutinfalconform.”

“Whichway?”Ipleaded.“Ifwecangetclose,theBookofRamaybeabletoguideus.”TawaretturnedtoBes.“Areyouaskingmeforthis,Bes?Doyoutrulybelieveit’simportant,orare

youjustdoingitbecauseBasttoldyouto?”“No!Yes!”Hepuffedouthischeeksinexasperation.“Imean,yes,it’simportant.Yes,I’masking.I

needyourhelp.”Tawaretpulledatorchfromthenearestsconce.“Inthatcase,rightthisway.”

Wewanderedthehallsofaninfinitemagicnursinghome,ledbyahipponursewithatorch.Really,justanordinarynightfortheKanes.

Wepassed somanybedrooms I lost count.Mostof thedoorswereclosed,but a fewwereopen,showingfrailoldgodsintheirbeds,staringattheflickeringbluelightoftelevisionsorsimplylyinginthedarkcrying.Aftertwentyorthirtysuchrooms,Istoppedlooking.Itwastoodepressing.

IheldtheBookofRa,hopingitwouldgetwarmerasweapproachedthesungod,butnosuchluck.Tawarethesitatedateachintersection.Icouldtellshefeltuncertainaboutwhereshewasleadingus.

Afterafewmorehallwaysandstillnochangeinthescroll,Ibegantofeelfrantic.Cartermust’venoticed.

“It’sokay,”hepromised.“We’llfindhim.”Irememberedhowfastthesundialhadbeenmovingatthenurses’station.AndIthoughtaboutVlad

Menshikov.Iwantedtobelievehe’dbeenturnedintoadeep-friedRussianwhenhefellintotheLakeofFire,butthatwasprobablytoomuchtohopefor.Ifhewasstillhuntingus,hecouldn’tbefarbehind.

WeturneddownanothercorridorandTawaretfroze.“Oh,dear.”Infrontofus,anoldwomanwiththeheadofafrogwasjumpingaround—andwhenIsayjumping,I

meansheleapedtenfeet,croakedafewtimes,thenleapedagainstthewallandstucktherebeforeleapingtotheoppositewall.Herbodyandlimbslookedhuman,dressedinagreenhospitalgown,butherheadwas all amphibian—brown,moist, andwarty.Her bulbous eyes turned in every direction, and by thedistressedsoundofhercroaking,Iguessedshewaslost.

“Heket’sgotoutagain,”Tawaretsaid.“Excusemeamoment.”Shehurriedovertothefrogwoman.BespulledahandkerchieffromthepocketofhisHawaiianshirt.Hedabbedhisforeheadnervously.

“IwonderedwhathadeverhappenedtoHeket.She’sthefroggoddess,youknow.”“Ineverwould’veguessed,”Cartersaid.IwatchedasTawarettriedtocalmdowntheoldgoddess.Shespokeinsoothingtones,promisingto

helpHeketfindherroomifshe’djuststopbouncingoffthewalls.“She’sbrilliant,”Isaid.“Tawaret,Imean.”

“Yeah,”Bessaid.“Yeah,she’sfine.”“Fine?”Isaid.“Clearly,shelikesyou.Whyareyouso…”Suddenlythetruthsmackedmeintheface.IfeltalmostasthickasCarter.“Oh,Isee.Shementionedahorrible timeatapalace,didn’tshe?She’s theonewhofreedyouin

Russia.”Besmoppedhisneckwith thehandkerchief.Hereallywassweatingquitea lot.“Wh-whatmakes

yousaythat?”“Becauseyou’resoembarrassedaroundher!Like…”Iwasabouttosay“likeshe’sseenyouinyour

underpants,”but Idoubted thatwouldmeanmuch to theGodofSpeedos.“Likeshe’sseenyouatyourworst,andyouwanttoforgetit.”

BesstaredatTawaretwithapainedexpression,thewayhehadstaredatPrinceMenshikov’spalaceinSt.Petersburg.

“She’salways savingme,” he said bitterly. “She’s alwayswonderful, nice, kind.Back in ancienttimes, everyone assumedwewere dating.They always saidwewere a cute couple—the two demon-scaringgods,thetwomisfits,whatever.Wedidgooutafewtimes,butTawaretwasjusttoo—toonice.AndIwaskindofobsessedwithsomebodyelse.”

“Bast,”Carterguessed.The dwarf god’s shoulders slumped. “That obvious, huh?Yeah, Bast. Shewas themost popular

goddess with the common folk. I was the most popular god. So, you know, we’d see each other atfestivalsandsuch.Shewas…well,beautiful.”

Typicalman,Ithought.Onlyseeingthesurface.ButIkeptmymouthshut.“Anyway,”Bessighed,“Basttreatedmelikealittlebrother.Shestilldoes.Hasnointerestinmeat

all,butittookmealongtimetorealizethat.Iwassoobsessed,Iwasn’tverygoodtoTawaretovertheyears.”

“ButshecametogetyouinRussia,”Isaid.Henodded.“Isentoutdistresscalls.IthoughtBastwouldcometomyaid.OrHorus.Orsomebody.

Ididn’tknowwheretheyallwere,youunderstand,butIhadalotoffriendsbackintheolddays.Ifiguredsomebodywould show up. The only onewho didwas Tawaret. She risked her life sneaking into thepalaceduringthedwarfwedding.Shesawthewholething—sawmehumiliatedinfrontofthebigfolk.Duringthenight,shebrokemycageandfreedme.Iowehereverything.ButonceIwasfree…Ijustfled.Iwassoashamed,Icouldn’tlookather.EverytimeIthinkofher,Ithinkaboutthatnight,andIhearthelaughing.”

Thepaininhisvoicewasraw,asifheweredescribingsomethingthathadhappenedyesterday,notthreecenturiesago.

“Bes,itisn’therfault,”Isaidgently.“Shecaresaboutyou.It’sobvious.”“It’stoolate,”hesaid.“I’vehurthertoomuch.IwishIcouldturnbacktheclock,but…”Hefaltered.Tawaretwaswalkingtowardus,leadingthefroggoddessbythearm.“Now,dear,”Tawaretsaid,“justcomewithus,andwe’llfindyourroom.Noneedforleaping.”“Butit’saleapoffaith,”Heketcroaked.(Imeanshemadethatsound;shedidn’tdieinfrontofus,

thankfully.)“Mytempleisaroundheresomewhere.ItwasinQus.Lovelycity.”“Yes,dear,”Tawaretsaid.“Butyourtempleisgonenow.Allourtemplesaregone.Youhaveanice

bedroom,though—”“No,”Heketmurmured.“Thepriestswillhavesacrificesforme.Ihaveto…”Shefixedherlargeyelloweyesonme,andIunderstoodhowaflymustfeelrightbeforeit’szapped

byafrogtongue.“That’smypriestess!”Heketsaid.“She’scometovisitme.”“No,dear,”Tawaretsaid.“That’sSadieKane.”

“Mypriestess.”Heket pattedmy shoulderwith hermoistwebbed hand, and I didmybest not tocringe.“Tellthetempletostartwithoutme,willyou?I’llbealonglater.Willyoutellthem?”

“Um,yeah,”Isaid.“Ofcourse,LadyHeket.”“Good,good.”Hereyesbecameunfocused.“Verysleepynow.Hardwork,remembering…”“Yes,dear,”Tawaretsaid.“Whydon’tyouliedowninoneoftheseroomsfornow?”SheshepherdedHeketintothenearestvacantroom.Besfollowedherwithsadeyes.“I’materribledwarf.”PerhapsIshould’vereassuredhim,butmymindwasracingontoothermatters.Startwithoutme,

Hekethadsaid.Aleapoffaith.SuddenlyIfoundithardtobreathe.“Sadie?”Carterasked.“What’swrong?”“Iknowwhythescrollisn’tguidingus,”Isaid.“Ihavetostartthesecondpartofthespell.”“Butwe’renotthereyet,”Cartersaid.“Andwewon’tbeunlessIstartthespell.It’spartoffindingRa.”“Whatis?”TawaretappearedatBes’ssideandalmostscaredthedwarfoutofhisHawaiianshirt.“Thespell,”Isaid.“Ihavetotakealeapoffaith.”“Ithinkthefroggoddessinfectedher,”Carterfretted.“No,youdolt!”Isaid.“ThisistheonlywaytofindRa.I’msureofit.”“Hey, kid,” Bes said, “if you start that spell, and we don’t find Ra by the time you’re finished

readingit—”“Iknow.Thespellwillbackfire.”WhenIsaidbackfire,Imeantitquiteliterally.Ifthespelldidn’t

finditspropertarget,thepoweroftheBookofRamightblowupinmyface.“It’s theonlyway,” I insisted.“Wedon’thave time towander thehalls forever,andRawillonly

appearifweinvokehim.Wehavetoproveourselvesbytakingtherisk.You’llhavetoleadme.Ican’tstumbleonthewords.”

“You have courage, dear.”Tawaret held up her torch. “Don’tworry, I’ll guide you. Just do yourreading.”

I opened the scroll to the second section. The rows of hieroglyphs,which had once seemed likedisconnectedphrasesofrubbish,nowmadeperfectsense.

“‘IinvokethenameofRa,’”Ireadaloud,“‘thesleepingking,lordofthenoondaysun,whositsuponthethroneoffire…’”

Well,yougettheidea.IdescribedhowRarosefromtheseaofChaos.IrecalledhislightshiningontheprimordiallandofEgypt,bringinglifetotheNileValley.AsIread,Ifeltwarmer.

“Sadie,”Cartersaid,“you’resmoking.”Hardnottopanicwhensomeonemakesacommentlikethat,butIrealizedCarterwasright.Smoke

wascurlingoffmybody,formingacolumnofgraythatdrifteddownthehallway.“Isitmyimagination,”Carterasked,“oristhesmokeshowingustheway?Ow!”HesaidthatlastpartbecauseIstompedhisfoot,whichIcoulddoquitewellwithoutbreakingmy

concentration.Hegotthemessage:Shutupandstartwalking.Tawaret tookmyarmandguidedmeforward.BesandCarter flankedus likesecurityguards.We

followedthetrailofsmokedowntwomorecorridorsandupaflightofstairs.TheBookofRabecameuncomfortablywarminmyhands.Thesmokefrommybodybeganobscuringtheletters.

“You’redoingwell,Sadie,”Tawaretsaid.“Thishallwaylooksfamiliar.”Idon’tknowhowshecouldtell,butIstayedfocusedonthescroll.IdescribedRa’ssunboatsailing

acrossthesky.Ispokeofhiskinglywisdomandthebattleshe’dwonagainstApophis.Abeadofsweat trickleddownmyface.Myeyesbegan toburn. Ihoped theyweren’t literallyon

fire.

WhenIcametotheline,“Ra,thesun’szenith…”Irealizedwe’dstoppedinfrontofadoor.It didn’t look any different from any other door, but I pushed it open and stepped inside. I kept

reading,thoughIwasquicklyapproachingtheendofthespell.Inside, the roomwas dark. In the sputtering light ofTawaret’s torch, I saw the oldestman in the

worldsleepinginbed—hisfaceshriveled,hisarmslikesticks,hisskinsotranslucent,Icouldseeeveryvein.SomeofthemummiesinBahariyahadlookedmorealivethanthisoldhusk.

“‘ThelightofRareturns,’”Iread.Inoddedattheheavilycurtainedwindows,andfortunatelyBesandCartergotmymeaning.Theyyankedbackthecurtains,andredlightfromtheLakeofFirefloodedtheroom.Theoldmandidn’tmove.Hismouthwaspursedlikehislipshadbeensewntogether.

Imovedtohisbedsideandkeptreading.IdescribedRaawakeningatdawn,sittinginhisthroneashisboatclimbedthesky,theplantsturningtowardthewarmthofthesun.

“It’snotworking,”Besmuttered.I began to panic.Therewere only two lines left. I could feel the power of the spell backing up,

beginningtooverheatmybody.Iwasstillsmoking,andIdidn’tlikethesmellofflame-broiledSadie.IhadtoawakenRaorI’dburnalive.

Thegod’smouth…Ofcourse.IsetthescrollonRa’sbedanddidmybesttoholditopenwithonehand.“‘Isingthepraisesofthe

sungod.’”IstretchedoutmyfreehandtoCarterandsnappedmyfingers.Thankgoodness,Carterunderstood.HerummagedthroughmybagandpassedmetheobsidiannetjeribladefromAnubis.Ifever there

wasamomentforOpeningtheMouth,thiswasit.Itouchedtheknifetotheoldman’slipsandspokethelastlineofthespell:“‘Awake,myking,with

thenewday.’”The oldmangasped. Smoke spiraled into hismouth like he’d become a vacuumcleaner, and the

magicofthespellfunneledintohim.Mytemperaturedroppedtonormal.Ialmostcollapsedwithrelief.Ra’seyesflutteredopen.Withhorrifiedfascination, Iwatchedasbloodbegantoflowthroughhis

veinsagain,slowlyinflatinghimlikeahotairballoon.Heturnedtowardme,hiseyesunfocusedandmilkywithcataracts.“Uh?”“Hestilllooksold,”Cartersaidnervously.“Isn’thesupposedtolookyoung?”Tawaret curtsied to the sungod (whichyou shouldnot tryathome ifyouareapregnanthippo in

heels) and felt Ra’s forehead. “He isn’t whole yet,” she said. “You’ll need to complete the night’sjourney.”

“Andthethirdpartofthespell,”Carterguessed.“He’sgotonemoreaspect,right?Thescarab?”Besnodded,thoughhedidn’tlookterriblyoptimistic.“Khepri,thebeetle.Maybeifwefindthelast

partofhissoul,he’llberebornproperly.”Rabrokeintoatoothlessgrin.“Ilikezebras!”Iwassotired,IwonderedifI’dheardhimcorrectly.“Sorry,didyousayzebras?”Hebeamedatuslikeachildwho’djustdiscoveredsomethingwonderful.“Weaselsaresick.”“O-h-h-kay,”Cartersaid.“Maybeheneedsthese…”Cartertookthecrookandflailfromhisbelt.HeofferedthemtoRa.Theoldgodpulledthecrookto

hismouthandbegangummingitlikeapacifier.I started to feel uneasy, and not just because ofRa’s condition.Howmuch time had passed, and

wherewasVladMenshikov?“Let’sgethimtotheboat,”Isaid.“Bes,canyou—”“Yep.Excuseme,LordRa.I’llhavetocarryyou.”Hescoopedthesungodoutofbedandwebolted

from the room. Ra couldn’t have weighed very much, and Bes didn’t have any difficulty keeping up

despitehisshortlegs.Werandownthecorridor,retracingoursteps,asRawarbled,“Wheeee!Wheeee!Wheeee!”

Perhapshewashavingagood time,but Iwasmortified.We’dbeen throughsomuch trouble,andthiswasthesortofgodwe’dwoken?CarterlookedasgrimasIfelt.

We raced past other decrepit gods, who all got quite excited. Some pointed and made gurglingnoises.Oneoldjackal-headedgodrattledhisIVpoleandyelled,“Herecomesthesun!Theregoesthesun!”

Weburstintothelobby,andRasaid,“Uh-oh.Uh-ohonthefloor.”Hisheadlolled.Ithoughthewantedtogetdown.ThenIrealizedhewaslookingatsomething.On

thefloornexttomyfootlayaglitteringsilvernecklace:afamiliaramuletshapedlikeasnake.For someonewho’d been smoking hot only a fewminutes before, I suddenly felt terribly chilly.

“Menshikov,”Isaid.“Hewashere.”Carterdrewhiswandandscanned the room.“Butwhere ishe?Whywouldhe justdrop thatand

walkaway?”“Heleftitonpurpose,”Iguessed.“Hewantstotauntus.”AssoonasIsaidit,Iknewitwastrue.IcouldalmosthearMenshikovlaughingashecontinuedhis

journeydownriver,leavingusbehind.“Wehavetogettotheboat!”Isaid.“Hurry,before—”“Sadie.”Bespointedtothenurses’station.Hisexpressionwasgrim.“Oh,no,”Tawaretsaid.“No,no,no…”Onthesundial,theneedle’sshadowwaspointingtoeight.Thatmeantevenifwecouldstillleave

theFourthHouse,evenifwecouldgetthroughtheFifth,Sixth,andSeventhHouses,itwouldn’tmatter.AccordingtowhatTawarethadtoldus,thegatesoftheEighthHousewouldalreadybeclosed.

NowonderMenshikovhadleftusherewithoutbotheringtofightus.We’dalreadylost.

CARTER

21.WeBuySomeTime

AFTERSAYINGGOOD-BYETOZiaattheGreatPyramid,Ididn’tthinkIcouldpossiblygetmoredepressed.Iwaswrong.

StandingonthedocksoftheLakeofFire,IfeltlikeImightaswelldoacannonballintothelava.Itwasn’tfair.We’dcomeall thiswayandriskedsomuchjust tobebeatenbyatimelimit.Game

over.HowwasanyonesupposedtosucceedinbringingbackRa?Itwasimpossible.Carter,thisisn’tagame,thevoiceofHorussaidinsidemyhead.Itisn’tsupposedtobepossible.

Youmustkeepgoing.Ididn’tseewhy.ThegatesoftheEighthHousewerealreadyclosed.Menshikovhadsailedonand

leftusbehind.Maybethathadbeenhisplanallalong.He’dletuswakeRaonlypartiallysothesungodremained

oldandfeeble.ThenMenshikovwouldleaveustrappedintheDuatwhileheusedwhateverevilmagiche’dplannedtofreeApophis.Whenthedawncame,therewouldbenosunrise,noreturnofRa.InsteadApophiswouldriseanddestroycivilization.

OurfriendswouldhavefoughtallnightatBrooklynHousefornothing.Twenty-fourhoursfromnow,whenwe finallymanaged to leave the Duat, we’d find the world a dark, frozen wasteland, ruled byChaos.Everythingwecared aboutwouldbegone.ThenApophis could swallowRaandcompletehisvictory.

Whyshouldwekeepchargingforwardwhenthebattlewaslost?Ageneralnever showsdespair,Horus said.He instills confidence in his troops.He leads them

forward,evenintothemouthofdeath.You’reMr.Cheerful,Ithought.Whoinvitedyoubackintomyhead?ButasirritatingasHoruswas,hehadapoint.Sadiehadtalkedabouthope—aboutbelievingthatwe

couldmakeMa’atoutofChaos,evenifitseemedimpossible.Maybethatwasallwecoulddo:keepontrying,keeponbelievingwecouldsalvagesomethingfromthedisaster.

Amos,Zia,Walt,Jaz,Bast,andouryoungtrainees…allofthemwerecountingonus.Ifourfriendswerestillalive,Icouldn’tgiveup.Iowedthembetterthanthat.

TawaretescortedustothesunboatwhileacoupleofhershabticarriedRaaboard.“Bes,I’msosorry,”shesaid.“IwishtherewasmoreIcoulddo.”“It’snotyourfault.”Besheldouthishandlikehewantedtoshake,butwhentheirfingerstouched,he

claspedhers.“Tawaret,itwasneveryourfault.”Shesniffled.“Oh,Bes…”“Wheee!”Rainterruptedastheshabtisethimintheboat.“Seezebras!Wheee!”Besclearedhisthroat.Tawaretletgoofhishands.“You—youshouldgo.PerhapsAaruwillprovideananswer.”“Aaru?”Iasked.“Who’sthat?”Tawaretdidn’texactlysmile,buthereyessoftenedwithkindness.“Notwho,mydear.Where. It’s

theSeventhHouse.Tellyourfatherhello.”Myspiritsliftedjustalittle.“Dadwillbethere?”“Goodluck,CarterandSadie.”Tawaretkissedusbothonthecheek,whichfeltsortoflikegetting

sideswipedbyafriendly,bristly,slightlymoistblimp.

ThegoddesslookedatBes,andIwassureshewasgoingtocry.Thensheturnedandhurriedupthesteps,hershabtibehindher.

“Weaselsaresick,”Rasaidthoughtfully.Onthatbitofgodlywisdom,weboardedtheship.Theglowingcrewlightsmannedtheoars,andthe

sunboatpulledawayfromthedocks.“Eat.”Rabegangummingapieceofrope.“No,youcan’teatthat,youoldgit,”Sadiechided.“Uh,kid?”Bessaid.“Maybeyoushouldn’tcallthekingofthegodsanoldgit.”“Well,heis,”Sadiesaid.“Comeon,Ra.Comeintothetent.Iwanttoseesomething.”“Notent,”hemuttered.“Zebras.”Sadietriedtograbhisarm,buthecrawledawayfromherandstuckouthistongue.Finallyshetook

thepharaoh’scrook frommybelt (without asking,of course) andwaved it likeadogbone. “Want thecrook,Ra?Nicetastycrook?”

Ragrabbedforitweakly.SadiebackedupandeventuallymanagedtocoaxRaintothepavilion.Assoonashereachedtheemptydais,abrilliantlightexplodedaroundhim,completelyblindingme.

“Carter,look!”Sadiecried.“IwishIcould.”Iblinkedtheyellowspotsoutofmyeyes.Onthedaisstoodachairofmoltengold,afierythronecarvedwithglowingwhitehieroglyphs.It

looked just like Sadie had described from her vision, but in real life it was the most beautiful andterrifyingpieceoffurnitureI’deverseen.Thecrewlightsbuzzedaroundit inexcitement,brighter thanever.

Radidn’tseemtonoticethechair,orhedidn’tcare.Hishospitalgownhadchangedintoregalrobeswithacollarofgold,buthestilllookedlikethesamewitheredoldman.

“Haveaseat,”Sadietoldhim.“Don’twannachair,”hemuttered.“Thatwasalmostacompletesentence,”Isaid.“Maybeit’sagoodsign?”“Zebras!”RagrabbedthecrookfromSadieandhobbledacrossthedeck,yelling,“Wheee!Wheee!”“LordRa!”Bescalled.“Careful!”Iconsideredtacklingthesungodbeforehecouldfalloutoftheboat,butIdidn’tknowhowthecrew

wouldreacttothat.ThenRasolvedourproblemforus.Hesmackedintothemastandcrumpledtothedeck.

Weallrushedforward,buttheoldgodseemedonlydazed.Hedrooledandmutteredaswedraggedhimbackintothepavilionandsethimonhisthrone.Itwas

tricky, because the throne gave off heat of about a thousand degrees, and I didn’t want to catch fire(again);buttheheatdidn’tseemtobotherRa.

Westeppedbackandlookedatthekingofthegods,slumpedinhischairsnoring,andcradlinghiscrooklikeateddybear.Iplacedthewarflailacrosshislap,hopingitmightmakeadifference—maybecompletehispowersorsomething.Nosuchluck.

“Sickweasels,”Ramuttered.“Behold,”Sadiesaidbitterly.“ThegloriousRa.”Bes shot her an irritated look. “That’s right, kid. Make fun. We gods just love to have mortals

laughingatus.”Sadie’sexpressionsoftened.“I’msorry,Bes.Ididn’tmean—”“Whatever.”Hestormedtotheprowoftheboat.Sadiegavemeapleadinglook.“Honestly,Ididn’t—”“He’sjuststressed,”Itoldher.“Likeallofus.It’llbeokay.”Sadiebrushedatearfromhercheek.“Theworldisabouttoend,we’restuckintheDuat,andyou

thinkit’llbeokay?”“We’regoingtoseeDad.”Itriedtosoundconfident,eventhoughIdidn’tfeelit.Ageneralnever

showsdespair.“He’llhelpus.”Wesailed through theLakeofFireuntil theshoresnarrowed,and the flamingcurrent turnedback

intowater.Theglowofthelakefadedbehindus.Therivergotswifter,andIknewwe’denteredtheFifthHouse.

IthoughtaboutDad,andwhetherornothe’dreallybeabletohelpus.Thelastfewmonthshe’dbeenstrangelysilent.

Iguessthatshouldn’thavesurprisedme,sincehewastheLordoftheUnderworldnow.Heprobablydidn’tgetgoodcellphonereceptiondownhere.Still,theideaofseeinghimatthemomentofmybiggestfailuremademenervous.

Eventhoughtheriverwasdark,thethroneoffirewasalmosttoobrighttolookat.Ourboatcastawarmglowovertheshores.

Oneithersideoftheriver,ghostlyvillagesappearedoutofthegloom.Lostsoulsrantotheriverbanktowatchuspass.Aftersomanymillenniainthedarkness,theylookedstunnedtoseethesungod.Manytriedtoshoutforjoy,buttheirmouthsmadenosound.OthersstretchedouttheirarmstowardRa.Theysmiledastheybaskedinhiswarmlight.Theirformsseemedtosolidify.Colorreturnedtotheirfacesandtheirclothes.Astheyfadedbehindusinthedarkness,Iwasleftwiththeimageoftheirgratefulfacesandoutstretchedhands.

Somehow thatmademe feelbetter.At leastwe’dshown them thesunone last timebeforeChaosdestroyedtheworld.

I wondered if Amos and our friends were still alive, defending Brooklyn House against VladMenshikov’s attack squad and waiting for us to show up. I wished I could see Zia again, if only toapologizeforfailingher.

TheFifthandSixthhousespassedquickly,thoughIcouldn’tbesurehowmuchtimeactuallywentby.We sawmoreghost villages, beachesmadeof bones, entire cavernswherewingedba flew around inconfusion,bonkingintowallsandswarmingthesunboatlikemothsaroundaporchlight.Wenavigatedsomescaryrapids, thoughtheglowingcrewlightsmade it lookeasy.Afewtimesdragonlikemonstersroseoutoftheriver,butBesyelled,“Boo!”andthemonsterswhimperedandsankbeneaththewater.Rasleptthroughitall,snoringfitfullyonhisburningthrone.

Finallytheriverslowedandwidened.Thewaterturnedassmoothasmeltedchocolate.Thesunboatentered a new cavern, and the ceiling overhead blazed with blue crystals, reflecting Ra’s light so itlookedliketheregularsunwascrossingabrilliantbluesky.Marshgrassandpalmtreeslinedtheshore.Fartheraway,rollinggreenhillsweredottedwithcozy-lookingwhiteadobecottages.Aflockofgeeseflewoverhead.Theairsmelled like jasmineandfresh-bakedbread.Mywholebodyrelaxed—thewayyoumightfeelafteralongtrip,whenyouwalkintoyourhouseandfinallygettocollapseonyourbed.

“Aaru,”Besannounced.Hedidn’tsoundasgrumpynow.Theworrylinesonhisfacefaded.“TheEgyptianafterlife.TheSeventhHouse.Isupposeyou’dcallitParadise.”

“NotthatI’mcomplaining,”Sadiesaid.“It’smuchnicerthanSunnyAcres,andIsmelldecentfoodatlast.Butdoesthismeanwe’redead?”

Besshookhishead.“ThiswasaregularpartofRa’snightlyroute—hispitstop,Iguessyou’dsay.Hewouldhangoutforawhilewithhishost,eat,drink,andrestupbeforethelaststretchofhisjourney,whichwasthemostdangerous.”

“Hishost?”Iasked,thoughIwasprettysurewhomBesmeant.Ourboatturnedtowardadock,whereamanandawomanstoodwaitingforus.Dadworehisusual

brown suit. His skin glowed with a bluish tint. Mom shimmered in ghostly white, her feet not quitetouchingtheboards.

“Ofcourse,”Bessaid.“ThisistheHouseofOsiris.”

“Sadie,Carter.”Dadpulledusintoahuglikewewerestilllittlekids,butneitherofusprotested.Hefeltsolidandhuman,somuchlikehisoldselfthatittookallmywillpowernottobreakdownin

tears.Hisgoateewasneatly trimmed.Hisbaldheadgleamed.Evenhiscolognesmelled the same: thefaintscentofamber.

He held us at arm’s length to examine us, his eyes shining. I could almost believe hewas still aregular mortal, but if I looked closely, I could see another layer to his appearance, like a fuzzysuperimposed image:ablue-skinnedman inwhite robesand thecrownofapharaoh.Aroundhisneckwasadjedamulet,thesymbolofOsiris.

“Dad,”Isaid.“Wefailed.”“Shhh,”hesaid.“Noneofthat.Thisisatimetorestandrenew.”Momsmiled.“We’vebeenwatchingyourprogress.You’vebothbeensobrave.”Seeing her was even harder than seeing Dad. I couldn’t hug her because she had no physical

substance,andwhenshetouchedmyface,itfeltlikenothingmorethanawarmbreeze.ShelookedexactlyasIremembered—herblondhairloosearoundhershoulders,herblueeyesfulloflife—butshewasonlyaspiritnow.Herwhitedressseemedtobewovenfrommist.IfI lookeddirectlyather,sheseemedtodissolveinthelightofthesunboat.

“I’msoproudofyouboth,”shesaid.“Come,we’vepreparedafeast.”Iwasinadazeastheyledusashore.Bestookchargeofcarryingthesungod,whoseemedinagood

moodafterhead-buttingthemastandtakinganap.Ragaveeveryoneatoothlessgrinandsaid,“Oh,pretty.Feast?Zebras?”

GhostlyservantsinAncientEgyptianclothesusheredustowardanoutdoorpavilionlinedwithlife-sizestatuesofthegods.Wecrossedafootbridgeoveramoatfullofalbinocrocodiles,whichmademethinkaboutPhilipofMacedonia,andwhatmightbehappeningbackatBrooklynHouse.

ThenIsteppedinsidethepavilion,andmyjawdropped.A feastwas spreadout on a longmahogany table—our old dining table from the house inL.A. I

couldevenseethenotchI’dcarvedinthewoodwithmyfirstSwissArmyknife—theonlytimeIrecallmy dad getting really mad at me. The chairs were stainless steel with leather seats, just like Iremembered;andwhenIlookedoutside,theviewshimmeredbackandforth—nowthegrassyhillsandglitteringblueskyoftheafterlife,nowthewhitewallsandhugeglasswindowsofouroldhouse.

“Oh…”Sadiesaidinasmallvoice.Hereyeswerefixedonthecenterofthetable.Amongplattersofpizza,bowlsofsugarcoatedstrawberries,andeveryotherkindoffoodyoucouldimaginewasawhite-and-blueice-creamcake,theexactsamecakethatwe’dexplodedonSadie’ssixthbirthday.

“I hope you don’tmind,”Mom said. “I thought it was a shame you never got to taste it. Happybirthday,Sadie.”

“Please, sit.” Dad spread his arms. “Bes, old friend, would you put Lord Ra at the head of thetable?”

IstartedtositinthechairfarthestfromRa,sinceIdidn’twanthimslobberingallovermewhilehegummedhisfood,butMomsaid,“Oh,notthere,dear.Sitbyme.Thatchairisfor…anotherguest.”

Shesaidthelasttwowordsliketheyleftabittertasteinhermouth.Ilookedaroundthetable.Thereweresevenchairsandonlysixofus.“Whoelseiscoming?”“Anubis?”Sadieaskedhopefully.Dadchuckled.“NotAnubis,thoughI’msurehe’dbehereifhecould.”Sadieslumpedasifsomeonehadlettheairoutofher.[Yes,Sadie,youwerethatobvious.]“Whereishe,then?”sheasked.Dadhesitatedjustlongenoughformetosensehisdiscomfort.“Away.Let’seat,shallwe?”

Isatdownandacceptedasliceofbirthdaycakefromaghostlywaiter.Youwouldn’t thinkI’dbehungry,withtheworldendingandourmissionfailed,sittingintheLandoftheDeadatadinnertablefrommypastwithmymom’sghostnexttomeandmydadthecolorofablueberry.Butmystomachdidn’tcareaboutthat.ItletmeknowthatIwasstillalive,andIneededfood.Thecakewaschocolatewithvanillaicecream. It tastedperfect.Before Iknewit, I’dpolishedoffmysliceandwas loadingmyplatewithpepperonipizza.Thestatuesofthegodsstoodbehindus—Horus,Isis,Thoth,Sobek—allkeepingsilentwatchasweate.Outsidethepavilion,thelandsofAaruspreadoutasifthecavernwereendless—greenhillsandmeadows,herdsoffatcattle,fieldsofgrain,orchardsfullofdatetrees.Streamscutthemarshesintoapatchworkof islands, just liketheNileDelta,withpicture-perfectvillagesfor theblesseddead.Sailboatscruisedtheriver.

“ThisiswhatitlooksliketotheAncientEgyptians,”Dadsaid,asifreadingmythoughts.“ButeachsoulseesAaruslightlydifferently.”

“Like our house inL.A.?” I asked. “Our family back together around a dining table? Is this evenreal?”

Dad’seyesturnedsad,thewaytheyusedtowheneverI’daskaboutMom’sdeath.“Thebirthdaycakeisgood,eh?”heasked.“Mylittlegirl,thirteen.Ican’tbelieve—”Sadiesweptherplateoff thetable.Itshatteredagainst thestonefloor.“Whatdoesitmatter?”she

shouted.“Thebloodysundial—thestupidgates—wefailed!”Sheburiedherfaceinherarmsandbegantosob.“Sadie.”Momhoverednexttoherlikeafriendlyfogbank.“It’sallright.”“Moonpie,”Rasaidhelpfully,abeardofcakefrostingsmearedaroundhismouth.Hestartedtofall

outofhischair,andBespushedhimbackintoplace.“Sadie’sright,”Isaid.“Ra’sinworseshapethanweimagined.Evenifwecouldgethimbacktothe

mortalworld,hecouldneverdefeatApophis—unlessApophislaughstodeath.”Dadfrowned.“Carter,heisstillRa,pharaohofthegods.Showsomerespect.”“Don’tlikebubbles!”Raswattedataglowingservantlightthatwastryingtowipehismouth.“LordRa,”Dadsaid,“doyou rememberme? I’mOsiris.Youdinedhereatmy tableeverynight,

restingbeforeyourjourneytowardthedawn.Doyourecall?”“Wantaweasel,”Rasaid.Sadieslappedthetable.“Whatdoesthatevenmean?”Besscoopedupafistfulofchocolate-coveredthings—Iwasafraidtheymightbegrasshoppers—and

tossedthemintohismouth.“Wehaven’tfinishedtheBookofRa.We’dneedtofindKhepri.”Dad stroked his goatee. “Yes, the scarab god, Ra’s form as the rising sun. Perhaps if you found

Khepri,Racouldbefullyreborn.ButyouwouldneedtopassthroughthegatesoftheEighthHouse.”“Whichareclosed,”Isaid.“We’dhaveto,like,reversetime.”Besstoppedmunchinggrasshoppers.Hiseyeswidenedlikehe’djusthadarevelation.Helookedat

mydadincredulously.“Him?Youinvitedhim?”“Who?”Iasked.“Whatdoyoumean?”Istaredatmydad,buthewouldn’tmeetmyeyes.“Dad,whatisit?”Idemanded.“There’sawaythroughthegates?Canyouteleportustotheother

sideorsomething?”“IwishIcould,Carter.Butthejourneymustbefollowed.ItispartofRa’srebirth.Ican’tinterfere

withthat.However,you’reright:youneedextratime.Theremightbeaway,thoughI’dneversuggestitifthestakesweren’tsohigh—”

“It’sdangerous,”ourmomwarned.“Ithinkit’stoodangerous.”“What’stoodangerous?”Sadieasked.“Me,Isuppose,”saidavoicebehindme.

Iturnedandfoundamanstandingwithhishandsonthebackofmychair.Eitherhe’dapproachedsosilently,Ihadn’theardhim,orhe’dmaterializedoutofthinair.

He looked about twenty, thin and tall andkindof glamorous.His facewas totallyhuman, but hisirisesweresilver.Hisheadwasshavenexceptforaglossyblackponytailononesideofhishead,likeAncientEgyptianyouthusedtowear.HissilverysuitlookedtohavebeentailoredinItaly(Ionlyknowthat becauseAmos andmydad both paid a lot of attention to suits). The fabric shimmered like somebizarremixofsilkandaluminumfoil.Hisshirtwasblackandcollarless,andseveralpoundsofplatinumchainshungaroundhisneck.Thebiggestpieceofblingwasasilvercrescentamulet.Whenhisfingersdrummedon the back ofmy chair, his rings and platinumRolex flashed. If I’d seen him in themortalworld, Imight’ve guessed hewas a youngNativeAmerican billionaire casino owner.But here in theDuat,withthatcrescent-shapedamuletaroundhisneck…

“Moonpie!”Racackledwithdelight.“You’reKhonsu,”Iguessed.“Themoongod.”Hegavemeawolfishgrin,lookingatmeasifIwereanappetizer.“Atyourservice,”hesaid.“Caretoplayagame?”

“Notyou,”Besgrowled.Khonsuspreadhisarmsinabigairhug.“Bes,oldbuddy!How’veyoubeen?”“Don’t‘oldbuddy’me,youscamartist.”“I’mhurt!”Khonsusatdownonmyrightandleanedtowardmeconspiratorially.“PoorBesgambled

withmeagesago,yousee.Hewantedmore timewithBast.Hewagereda few feetofhisheight. I’mafraidhelost.”

“That’snotwhathappened!”Besroared.“Gentlemen,”myfathersaidinhissternestDadtone.“Youarebothguestsatmytable.Iwon’thave

anyfighting.”“Absolutely,Osiris.”Khonsubeamedathim.“I’mhonored tobehere.Andtheseareyourfamous

children?Wonderful!Areyoureadytoplay,kids?”“Julius,theydon’tunderstandtherisks,”ourmotherprotested.“Wecan’tletthemdothis.”“Hangon,”Sadiesaid.“Dowhat,exactly?”Khonsusnappedhisfingers,andallthefoodonthetabledisappeared,replacedbyaglowingsilver

senetboard.“Haven’tyouheardaboutme,Sadie?Didn’tIsistellyousomestories?OrNut?Now,therewasagambler!Theskygoddesswouldn’tstopplayinguntilshe’dwonfivewholedaysfromme.Doyouknowtheoddsagainstwinningthatmuchtime?Astronomical!Ofcourse,she’scoveredwithstars,soIsupposesheisastronomical.”

Khonsulaughedathisownjoke.Hedidn’tseembotheredthatnoonejoinedhim.“I remember,” I said. “YougambledwithNut, and shewonenoughmoonlight tocreate fiveextra

days,theDemonDays.ThatlethergetaroundRa’scommandmentthatherfivechildrencouldn’tbebornonanydayoftheyear.”

“Nuts,”Ramuttered.“Badnuts.”Themoongod raisedaneyebrow. “Dearme,Ra is inbad shape, isn’the?Butyes,CarterKane.

You’reabsolutelyright.I’mthemoongod,butIalsohavesomeinfluenceover time.Ican lengthenorshorten the livesof

mortals.Evengodscanbeaffectedbymypowers.Themoonischangeable,yousee.Itslightwaxesandwanes.Inmyhands,timecanalsowaxandwane.Youneed—what,aboutthreeextrahours?Icanweavethatforyououtofmoonlight,ifyouandyoursisterarewillingtogambleforit.IcanmakeitsothatthegatesoftheEighthHousehavenotyetclosed.”

Ididn’tunderstandhowhecouldpossiblydo that—backup time, insert threeextrahours into the

night—butforthefirsttimesinceSunnyAcres,Ifeltasmallsparkofhope.“Ifyoucanhelp,whynotjustgiveustheextratime?Thefateoftheworldisatstake.”

Khonsulaughed.“Goodone!Giveyou time!No,seriously. If Istartedgivingawaysomething thatvaluable,Ma’atwouldcrumble.Besides,youcan’tplaysenetwithoutgambling.Bescantellyouthat.”

Besspitachocolategrasshopperlegoutofhismouth.“Don’tdoit,Carter.YouknowwhattheysaidaboutKhonsuintheolddays?Someofthepyramidshaveapoemabouthimcarvedintothestones.It’scalled the ‘Cannibal Hymn.’ For a price, Khonsu would help the pharaoh slay any gods who werebotheringhim.Khonsuwoulddevourtheirsoulsandgaintheirstrength.”

Themoongodrolledhiseyes.“Ancienthistory,Bes!Ihaven’tdevouredasoulin…whatmonthisthis?March?Atany rate, I’vecompletelyadapted to thismodernworld. I’mquite civilizednow.Youshould see my penthouse at the Luxor in Las Vegas. I mean, Thank you! America has a propercivilization!”

Hesmiledatme,hissilvereyesflashinglikeashark’s.“Sowhatdoyousay,Carter?Sadie?Playmeatsenet.Threepiecesforme,threeforyou.You’llneedthreehoursofmoonlight,soyoutwowillneedoneadditionalperson tostakeawager.Foreverypieceyour teammanages tomoveoff theboard, I’llgrantyouanextrahour.Ifyouwin,that’sthreeextrahours—justenoughtimetomakeitpastthegatesoftheEighthHouse.”

“Andifwelose?”Iasked.“Oh…youknow.”Khonsuwavedhishandasifthiswereanannoyingtechnicality.“ForeachpieceI

moveofftheboard,I’lltakearenfromoneofyou.”Sadiesatforward.“You’lltakeoursecretnames—asin,wehavetosharethemwithyou?”“Share…”Khonsustrokedhisponytail,asiftryingtorememberthemeaningofthatword.“No,no

sharing.I’lldevouryourren,yousee.”“Erasepartofoursouls,”Sadiesaid.“Takeourmemories,ouridentity.”Themoongodshrugged.“Onthebrightside,youwouldn’tdie.You’djust—”“Turnintoavegetable,”Sadieguessed.“LikeRa,there.”“Don’twantvegetables,”Ramutteredirritably.HetriedtochewonBes’sshirt,butthedwarfgod

scootedaway.“Threehours,”Isaid.“Wageredagainstthreesouls.”“Carter,Sadie,youdon’thavetodothis,”mymothersaid.“Wedon’texpectyoutotakethisrisk.”I’dseenhersomanytimesinpicturesandinmymemories,butforthefirsttimeitreallystruckme

howmuchshelookedlikeSadie—orhowmuchSadiewasstartingtolooklikeher.Theybothhadthesamefierydeterminationintheireyes.Theybothtiltedtheirchinsupwhenthey

wereexpectingafight.Andtheybothweren’tverygoodathidingtheirfeelings.IcouldtellfromMom’sshakyvoicethatsherealizedwhathadtohappen.Shewastellinguswehadoptions,butsheknewverywellthatwedidn’t.

IlookedatSadie,andwecametoasilentagreement.“Mom,it’sokay,”Isaid.“YougaveyourlifetocloseApophis’sprison.Howcanwebackout?”Khonsu rubbedhis hands. “Ah, yes,Apophis’s prison!Your friendMenshikov is there right now,

looseningtheSerpent’sbonds.Ihavesomanybetsonwhatwillhappen!Willyougetthereintimetostophim?WillyoureturnRatotheworld?WillyoudefeatMenshikov?I’mgivingahundredtooneonthat!”

Momturneddesperatelytomyfather.“Julius,tellthem!It’stoodangerous.”Mydadwasstillholdingaplateofhalf-eatenbirthdaycake.Hestaredatthemeltingicecreamasif

itwerethesaddestthingintheworld.“Carter and Sadie,” he said at last, “I brought Khonsu here so that you’d have the choice. But

whateveryoudo,I’mstillproudofyouboth.Iftheworldendstonight,thatwon’tchange.”Hemetmyeyes,andIcouldseehowmuchithurthimtothinkaboutlosingus.LastChristmasatthe

BritishMuseum,he’dsacrificedhislifetoreleaseOsirisandrestorebalancetotheDuat.He’dleftSadieandme alone, and I’d resentedhima long time for that.Now I realizedwhat itwas like to be in hisposition.He’dbeenwillingtogiveupeverything,evenhislife,forabiggerpurpose.

“Iunderstand,Dad,”Itoldhim.“We’reKanes.Wedon’trunfromhardchoices.”Hedidn’tanswer,buthenoddedslowly.Hiseyesburnedwithfiercepride.“Foronce,”Sadiesaid,“Carter’sright.Khonsu,we’llplayyourstupidgame.”“Excellent!”Khonsusaid.“That’stwosouls.Twohourstowin.Ah,butyou’llneedthreehoursto

getthroughthegatesontime,won’tyou?Hmm.I’mafraidyoucan’tuseRa.He’snotinhisrightmind.Yourmotherisalreadydead.Yourfatheristhejudgeoftheunderworld,sohe’sdisqualifiedfromsoulwagering….”

“I’lldoit,”Bessaid.Hisfacewasgrimbutdetermined.“Oldbuddy!”Khonsucried.“I’mdelighted.”“Stuffit,moongod,”Bessaid.“Idon’tlikeit,butI’lldoit.”“Bes,”Isaid,“you’vedoneenoughforus.Bastwouldneverexpectyou—”“I’mnotdoingitforBast!”hegrumbled.Thenhetookadeepbreath.“Look,youkidsarethereal

deal.Lastcoupleofdays—forthefirsttimeinagesI’vefeltwantedagain.Important.Notlikeasideshowattraction. If things gowrong, just tellTawaret…”He cleared his throat and gaveSadie ameaningfullook.“TellherItriedtoturnbacktheclock.”

“Oh,Bes.”Sadiegotupandranaroundthetable.Shehuggedthedwarfgodandkissedhischeek.“Allright,allright,”hemuttered.“Don’tgosappyonme.Let’splaythisgame.”“Timeismoney,”Khonsuagreed.Ourparentsstood.“Wecannotstayforthis,”Dadsaid.“But,children…”Hedidn’t seem toknowhowtocomplete the thought.Goodluckprobablywouldn’thavecut it. I

couldseetheguiltandworryinhiseyes,buthewastryinghardnottoshowit.Agoodgeneral,Horuswouldhavesaid.

“Weloveyou,”ourmotherfinished.“Youwillprevail.”Withthat,ourparentsturnedtomistandvanished.Everythingoutsidethepaviliondarkenedlikea

stageset.Thesenetgamebegantoglowbrighter.“Shiny,”Rasaid.“Threebluepiecesforyou,”Khonsusaid.“Threesilverpiecesforme.Now,who’sfeelinglucky?”

Thegamestartedwell enough.Sadiehadskill at tossing the sticks.Beshadseveral thousandyearsofgamingexperience.AndIgotthejobofmovingthepiecesandmakingsureRadidn’teatthem.

Atfirstitwasn’tobviouswhowaswinning.Wejustrolledandmoved,anditwashardtobelievewewereplayingforoursouls,ortruenames,orwhateveryouwanttocallthem.

WebumpedoneofKhonsu’spiecesbacktostart,buthedidn’tseemupset.Heseemeddelightedbyjustabouteverything.

“Doesn’titbotheryou?”Iaskedatonepoint.“Devouringinnocentsouls?”“Notreally.”Hepolishedhiscrescentamulet.“Whyshouldit?”“Butwe’retryingtosavetheworld,”Sadiesaid,“Ma’at, thegods—everything.Don’tyoucareif

theworldcrumblesintoChaos?”“Oh,itwouldn’tbesobad,”Khonsusaid.“Changecomesinphases,Ma’atandChaos,Chaosand

Ma’at.Beingthemoongod,Iappreciatevariation.Now,Ra,poorguy—healwaysstucktoaschedule.Samepatheverynight.Sopredictableandboring.Retiringwasthemostinterestingthingheeverdid.IfApophistakesoverandswallowsthesun,well—Isupposethemoonwillstillbethere.”

“You’reinsane,”Sadiesaid.

“Ha!I’llbetyoufiveextraminutesofmoonlightthatI’mperfectlysane.”“Forgetit,”Sadiesaid.“Justroll.”Khonsutossedthesticks.Thebadnews:hemadealarmingprogress.Herolledafiveandgotoneof

hispiecesalmosttotheendoftheboard.Thegoodnews:thepiecegotstuckattheHouseofThreeTruths,whichmeanthecouldonlyrollathreetogetitout.

Besstudiedtheboardintently.Hedidn’tseemtolikewhathesaw.Wehadonepiecewaybackatthestartandtwopiecesonthelastrowoftheboard.

“Carefulnow,”Khonsuwarned.“Thisiswhereitgetsinteresting.”Sadierolledafour,whichgaveustwooptions.Ourleadpiececouldgoout.Oroursecondpiece

couldbumpKhonsu’spiecefromtheHouseofThreeTruthsandsenditbacktoStart.“Bumphim,”Isaid.“It’ssafer.”Besshookhishead.“Thenwe’restuckintheHouseofThreeTruths.Thechancesofhimrollinga

threeareslim.Takeyourfirstpieceout.Thatwayyou’llbeassuredofatleastoneextrahour.”“Butoneextrahourwon’tdoit,”Sadiesaid.Khonsu seemed to be enjoyingour indecision.He sippedwine froma silverygoblet and smiled.

MeanwhileRaentertainedhimselfbytryingtopickthespikesoffhiswarflail.“Ow,ow,ow.”Myforeheadbeadedwithsweat.HowwasIsweatinginaboardgame?“Bes,areyousure?”“It’syourbestbet,”hesaid.“Besbest?”Khonsuchuckled.“Nice!”Iwantedtosmackthemoongod,butIkeptmymouthshut.Imovedourfirstpieceoutofplay.“Congratulations!”Khonsusaid.“Ioweyouonehourofmoonlight.Nowit’smyturn.”He tossed the sticks. They clattered on the dining table, and I felt like someone had snipped an

elevatorcableinmychest,plungingmyheartstraightdownashaft.Khonsuhadrolledathree.“Whoopsie!”Radroppedhisflail.Khonsumovedhispieceoutofplay.“Oh,whatashame.Now,whoserendoIcollectfirst?”“No,please!”Sadiesaid.“Tradeback.Takethehouryouoweusinstead.”“Thosearen’ttherules,”Khonsuchided.IlookeddownatthegougeI’dmadeinthetablewhenIwaseight.Iknewthatmemorywasaboutto

disappear,likeallmyothers.IfIgavemyrentoKhonsu,atleastSadiecouldstillcastthefinalpartofthespell.ShewouldneedBestoprotectherandadviseher.Iwastheonlyexpendableone.

Istartedtosay,“I—”“Me,”saidBes.“Themovewasmyidea.”“Bes,no!”Sadiecried.Thedwarfstood.Heplantedhisfeetandballedhisfists,likehewasgettingreadytoletloosewitha

BOO.Iwishedhe’ddothatandscareawayKhonsu,butinsteadhelookedatuswithresignation.“Itwaspartofthestrategy,kids.”

“What?”Iasked.“Youplannedthis?”He slippedoff hisHawaiian shirt and folded it carefully, setting it on the table. “Most important

thingisgettingallthreeofyourpiecesofftheboard,andlosingnomorethanone.Thiswastheonlywaytodoit.You’llbeathimeasilynow.Sometimesyouhavetoloseapiecetowinagame.”

“Sotrue,”Khonsusaid.“Whatadelight!Agod’sren.Areyouready,Bes?”“Bes,don’t,”Ipleaded.“Thisisn’tright.”Hescowledatme.“Hey,kid,youwerewillingtosacrifice.AreyousayingI’mnotasbraveassome

pipsqueakmagician?Besides,I’magod.Whoknows?Sometimeswecomeback.Now,winthegameandgetoutofhere.KickMenshikovinthekneeforme.”

Itriedtothinkofsomethingtosay,somethingthatwouldstopthis,butBessaid,“I’mready.”Khonsu closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, like hewas enjoying some freshmountain air.Bes’s

formflickered.Hedissolvedintoamontageoflightning-fastimages—atroupeofdwarvesdancingatatemple in the firelight; a crowd of Egyptians partying at a festival, carrying Bes and Bast on theirshoulders;BesandTawaretintogasatsomeRomanvilla,eatinggrapesandlaughingtogetheronasofa;BesdressedlikeGeorgeWashingtoninapowderedwigandsilksuit,doingcartwheelsinfrontofsomeBritishredcoats;BesintheolivefatiguesofaU.S.Marine,scaringawayademoninaWorldWarIINaziuniform.

As his silhouettemelted,more recent images flickered past: Bes in a chauffeur’s uniformwith aplacardthatreadkane;BespullingusoutofoursinkinglimointheMediterranean;Bescastingspellsonme inAlexandriawhen Iwas poisoned, trying desperately to healme;Bes andme in the back of theBedouins’pickuptruck,sharinggoatmeatandVaseline-flavoredwateraswetraveledalongthebankoftheNile.Hislastmemory:twokids,Sadieandme,lookingathimwithloveandconcern.Thentheimagefaded,andBeswasgone.EvenhisHawaiianshirthaddisappeared.

“Youtookallofhim!”Iyelled.“Hisbody—everything.Thatwasn’tthedeal!”Khonsuopenedhis eyes and sigheddeeply. “Thatwas lovely.”He smiled at us as if nothinghad

happened.“Ibelieveit’syourturn.”Hissilvereyeswerecoldandluminous,andIhadafeelingthatfortherestofmylife,Iwouldhate

lookingatthemoon.Maybeitwasrage,orBes’sstrategy,ormaybewejustgotlucky,buttherestofthegameSadieandI

destroyedKhonsueasily.Webumpedhispiecesateveryopportunity.Withinfiveminutes,ourlastpiecewasofftheboard.

Khonsuspreadhishands.“Welldone!Threehoursareyours.Ifyouhurry,youcanmakethegatesoftheEighthHouse.”

“I hate you,” Sadie said. It was the first she’d spoken since Bes disappeared. “You’re cold,calculating,horrible—”

“AndI’mjustwhatyouneeded.”KhonsutookoffhisplatinumRolexandwoundbackthetime—one,two, threehours.Allaroundus, thestatuesof thegods flickeredand jumped like theworldwasbeingslammedintoreverse.

“Now,”Khonsusaid,“wouldyouliketospendyourhard-earnedtimecomplaining?Ordoyouwanttosavethispooroldfoolofaking?”

“Zebras?”Ramutteredhopefully.“Whereareourparents?”Iasked.“Atleastletussaygood-bye.”Khonsushookhishead.“Timeisprecious,CarterKane.Youshould’velearnedthatlesson.It’sbest

thatIsendyouonyourway;butifyoueverwanttogamblewithmeagain—forseconds,hours,evendays—justletmeknow.Yourcreditisgood.”

Icouldn’tstandit. I lungedatKhonsu,but themoongodvanished.Thewholepavilionfaded,andSadieand Iwerestandingon thedeckof thesunboatagain, sailingdown thedark river.Theglowingcrewlightsbuzzedaroundus,manningtheoarsandtrimmingthesail.Rasatonhisfierythrone,playingwithhiscrookandflailliketheywerepuppetshavinganimaginaryconversation.

Infrontofus,apairofenormousstonegatesloomedoutofthedarkness.Eightmassivesnakeswerecarvedintotherock,fouroneachside.Thegateswereslowlyclosing,butthesunboatslippedthroughjustintime,andwepassedintotheEighthHouse.

I have to say, the House of Challenges didn’t seem very challenging. We fought monsters, yes.Serpents loomed out of the river.Demons arose. Ships full of ghosts tried to board the sun boat.Wedestroyedthemall.Iwassoangry,sodevastatedatlosingBes,thatIimaginedeverythreatwasthemoongodKhonsu.Ourenemiesdidn’tstandachance.

Sadie cast spells I’d never seen her use. She summoned sheets of ice that probablymatched heremotions,leavingseveraldemonicebergsinourwake.Sheturnedanentireshipfulofpirateghostsinto

Khonsu bobble-heads, then vaporized them in a miniature nuclear explosion. Meanwhile, Ra playedhappilywithhistoyswhilethelightservantsflitteredaroundthedeckinagitation,apparentlysensingthatourjourneywasreachingacriticalphase.TheNinth,Tenth,andEleventhHousespassedinablur.FromtimetotimeIheardasplashinthewaterbehindus,liketheoarofanotherboat.Ilookedback,wonderingifMenshikovhadsomehowgottenonourtailagain,butIdidn’tseeanything.Ifsomethingwasfollowingus,itknewbetterthantoshowitself.

AtlastIheardaroarupahead,likeanotherwaterfallorastretchofrapids.Thelightorbsworkedfuriouslytakingdownthesail,pushingontheoars,butwekeptgainingspeed.

We passed under a low archway carved like the goddess Nut, her starry limbs stretched outprotectivelyandherfacesmilinginwelcome.IgotthefeelingwewereenteringtheTwelfthHouse,thelastpartoftheDuatbeforeweemergedintoanewdawn.

Ihopedtoseelightattheendofthetunnel,literally,butinsteadourpathhadbeensabotaged.Icouldseewheretheriverwassupposed togo.Thetunnelcontinuedahead,slowlywindingoutoftheDuat.Icouldevensmellfreshair—thescentofthemortalworld.Butthefarendofthetunnelhadbeendrainedtoafieldofmud.Infrontofus,theriverplungedintoamassivepit,likeanasteroidhadpunchedaholeintheearthanddivertedthewaterstraightdown.Wewereracingtowardthedrop.

“Wecouldjump,”Sadiesaid.“Abandonship…”But I thinkwe came to the same conclusion.We needed the sun boat.We neededRa.We had to

followthecourseoftheriverwhereveritled.“It’satrap,”Sadiesaid.“TheworkofApophis.”“Iknow,”Isaid.“Let’sgotellhimwedon’tlikehiswork.”Webothgrabbedthemastastheshipplungedintothemaelstrom.Itseemedlikewefellforever.Youknowthefeelingwhenyoudivetothebottomofadeeppool,like

yournoseandearsaregoingtoexplode,andyoureyesaregoingtopopoutofyourhead?Imaginethatfeelingahundredtimesworse.WeweresinkingintotheDuatdeeperthanwe’deverbeen—deeperthananymortalwassupposedtogo.Themoleculesofmybodyfeltliketheywereheatingup,buzzingsofasttheymightflyapart.

Wedidn’t crash.Wedidn’t hit bottom.Theboat simply flippeddirection, like downhadbecomesideways, andwe sailed into a cavern that glowedwithharsh red light.Themagical pressurewas sointensethatmyearsrang.IwasnauseatedandIcouldbarelythinkstraight,butIrecognizedtheshorelineupahead:abeachmadeofmillionsofdeadscarabshells,shiftingandsurgingasaforceunderneath—amassive serpentine shape—struggled tobreak free.Dozensofdemonsweredigging through the scarabshellswithshovels.Andstandingontheshore,waitingforuspatiently,wasVladMenshikov,hisclothescharredandsmoking,hisstaffglowingwithgreenfire.

“Welcome,children,”hecalledacrossthewater.“Come.Joinmefortheendoftheworld.”

CARTER

22.FriendsintheStrangestPlaces

MENSHIKOVLOOKEDLIKEHE’DSWUMthroughtheLakeofFirewithoutamagicshield.Hiscurlygrayhairhadbeenreducedtoblackstubble.Hiswhitesuitwasshreddedandpepperedwithburnholes.Hiswholefacewasblistered,sohisruinedeyesdidn’tseemoutofplace.AsBesmight’vesaid,Menshikovwaswearinghisuglyoutfit.

ThememoryofBesmademeangry.Everythingwe’dgone through, everythingwe’d lost,wasallVladMenshikov’sfault.

Thesunboatgroundtoahaltonthescarab-shellbeach.Rawarbled,“Hel-lo-o-o-o-o!”andstumbledtohisfeet.Hebeganchasingablueservantorbaround

thedeckasifitwereaprettybutterfly.The demons dropped their shovels and assembled on the shore. They looked at each other

uncertainly, no doubtwondering if thiswere some sort of clever trick. Surely this doddering old foolcouldnotbethesungod.

“Wonderful,”Menshikovsaid.“YoubroughtRa,afterall.”Ittookmeamomenttorealizewhatwasdifferentabouthisvoice.Thegravellybreathingwasgone.

Histonewasadeep,smoothbaritone.“Iwasworried,”hecontinued.“YoutooksolongintheFourthHouse,Ithoughtyou’dbetrappedfor

thenight.WecouldhavefreedLordApophiswithoutyou,ofcourse,butitwould’vebeensoinconvenienttohuntyoudownlater.Thisismuchbetter.LordApophiswillbehungrywhenhewakes.He’llbemostpleasedthatyoubroughthimasnack.”

“Wheee,snack,”Ragiggled.Hehobbledaroundtheboat,tryingtosmashtheservantlightwithhisflail.

Thedemonsbegantolaugh.Menshikovgavethemanindulgentsmile.“Yes,quiteamusing,”hesaid.“MygrandfatherentertainedPetertheGreatwithadwarfwedding.I

willdoevenbetter.IwillentertaintheLordofChaoshimselfwithasenilesungod!”ThevoiceofHorusspokeurgentlyinmymind:Takebacktheweaponsofthepharaoh.Thisisyour

lastchance!Deepinside,Iknewitwasabadidea.IfIclaimedtheweaponsofthepharaohnow,I’dneverreturn

them.AndthepowersI’dgainwouldn’tbeenoughtodefeatApophis.Still,Iwastempted.ItwouldfeelsogoodtograbthecrookandflailfromthatstupidoldgodRaandsmashMenshikovintotheground.

TheRussian’seyesglitteredwithmalice.“Arematch,CarterKane?Byallmeans.Inoticeyoudon’thaveyourdwarfbabysitterthistime.Let’sseewhatyoucandoonyourown.”

Myvisionturnedred,andithadnothingtodowiththelightinthecavern.Isteppedofftheboatandsummonedthehawkgod’savatar.I’dnevertriedthespellsodeepintheDuatbefore.IgotmorethanIaskedfor.Insteadofbeingencasedinaglowingholograph,Ifeltmyselfgrowingtallerandstronger.Myeyesightgrewsharper.

Sadiemadeastrangledsound.“Carter?”“Largebird!”Rasaid.IlookeddownandfoundIwasaflesh-and-bloodgiant,fifteenfeettall,dressedinthebattlearmor

ofHorus.Ibroughtmyenormoushandstomyheadandpattedfeathersinsteadofhair.Mymouthwasarazor-sharpbeak. Ishoutedwithelation,and itcameoutasascreech,echoing throughthecavern.The

demonsscrambledbacknervously.IlookeddownatMenshikov,whonowseemedasinsignificantasamouse.Iwasreadytopulverizehim,butMenshikovsneeredandpointedhisstaff.

Whateverhewasplanning,Sadiewasfaster.Shethrewdownherownstaff,andittransformedintoakite(thebirdofpreykind)aslargeasapterodactyl.

Typical.Ipullsomethingreallycoollikemorphingintoahawkwarrior,andSadiehastoshowmeup. Her kite buffeted the air with its massive wings. Menshikov and his demons went somersaultingbackwardacrossthebeach.

“Twolargebirds!”Rastartedtoclap.“Carter,guardme!”SadiepulledouttheBookofRa.“Ineedtostartthespell.”Ithoughtthegiantkitewasdoingaprettygoodjobwithguardduty,butIsteppedforwardandgot

readytofight.Menshikovrosetohisfeet.“Byallmeans,SadieKane,startyourlittlespell.Don’tyouunderstand?

ThespiritofKhepricreated thisprison.Ragavepartofhisownsoul,hisabilitytobereborn,tokeepApophischained.”

Sadielookedlikehe’dslappedherintheface.“‘Thelastscarab—’”“Exactly,”Menshikovagreed.“Allthesescarabsweremultipliedfromone—Khepri,thethirdsoul

ofRa.Mydemonswillfinditeventually,diggingthroughtheshells.It’soneoftheonlyscarabsstillalivenow,andoncewecrushit,Apophiswillbefree.EvenifyousummonitbacktoRa,Apophiswillstillbefreed!Eitherway,Raistooweaktofight.Apophiswilldevourhim,astheancientpropheciespredicted,andChaoswilldestroyMa’atonceandforall.Youcan’twin.”

“You’reinsane,”Isaid,myvoicemuchdeeperthanusual.“You’llbedestroyedtoo.”Isawthefracturedlightinhiseyes,andIrealizedsomethingthatshockedmetothecore.Menshikov

didn’twantthisanymorethanwedid.He’dlivedwithgriefanddespairsolongthatApophishadtwistedhissoul,madehimaprisonerofhisownhatefulfeelings.VladimirMenshikovpretendedtogloat,buthedidn’t feel any sense of triumph. Inside he was terrified, defeated, miserable. He was enslaved byApophis.Ialmostfeltsorryforhim.

“We’realreadydead,CarterKane,”he said.“Thisplacewasnevermeant forhumans.Don’tyoufeelit?ThepowerofChaosisseepingintoourbodies,witheringoursouls.ButIhavebiggerplans.Ahostcanliveindefinitely,nomatterwhatsicknesshemayhave,nomatterhowinjuredhemaybe.

Apophishasalreadyhealedmyvoice.SoonIwillbewholeagain.Iwillliveforever!”“Ahost…”WhenIrealizedwhathemeant,Ialmostlostcontrolofmynewgiantform.“You’renot

serious.Menshikov,stopthisbeforeit’stoolate.”“Anddie?”heasked.Behindme,anewvoicesaid,“Thereareworsethingsthandeath,Vladimir.”Iturnedandsawasecondboatglidingtowardtheshore—asmallgrayskiffwithasinglemagicoar

thatroweditself.TheeyeofHoruswaspaintedontheboat’sprow,anditslonepassengerwasMichelDesjardins.TheChiefLector’s hair andbeardwerenowwhite as snow.Glowinghieroglyphs floatedfromhiscream-coloredrobes,makingatrailofdivinewordsbehindhim.

Desjardinssteppedashore.“Youtoywithsomethingmuchworsethandeath,myoldfriend.PraythatIkillyoubeforeyousucceed.”

Of all the weird things I’d experienced that night, Desjardins stepping up to fight on our side wasdefinitelytheweirdest.

HewalkedbetweenmygianthawkwarriorandSadie’smega-kiteliketheywerenobigdeal,andplantedhisstaffinthedeadscarabs.

“Surrender,Vladimir.”Menshikov laughed. “Have you looked at yourself lately,my lord?My curses have been sapping

yourstrengthformonths,andyoudidn’tevenrealizeit.You’renearlydeadnow.Iamthemostpowerfulmagicianintheworld.”

ItwastruethatDesjardinsdidn’tlookgood.Hisfacewasalmostasgauntandwrinkledasthesungod’s.But thecloudofhieroglyphsseemedstrongeraroundhim.Hiseyesblazedwith intensity, justastheyhadmonths ago inNewMexico,whenhe’dbattledus in the streets ofLasCruces andvowed todestroyus.Hetookanotherstepforward,andthemobofdemonsedgedaway.Isupposetheyrecognizedtheleopard-skincapearoundhisshouldersasamarkofpower.

“Ihave failed inmany things,”Desjardinsadmitted.“But Iwillnot fail in this. Iwillnot let youdestroytheHouseofLife.”

“TheHouse?”Menshikov’svoiceturnedshrill.“Itdiedcenturiesago!Itshould’vebeendisbandedwhenEgyptfell.”Hekickedatthedriedscarabshells.“TheHousehasasmuchlifeasthesehollowbughusks.Wakeup,Michel!Egypt isgone,meaningless,ancienthistory. It’s time todestroy theworldandstartanew.Chaosalwayswins.”

“Notalways.”DesjardinsturnedtoSadie.“Beginyourspell.Iwilldealwiththiswretch.”Thegroundsurgedunderus,tremblingasApophistriedtorise.“Think first, children,”Menshikovwarned. “Theworldwill end nomatterwhat youdo.Mortals

can’tleavethiscavernalive,butthetwoofyouhavebeengodlings.CombinewithHorusandIsisagain,pledgetoserveApophis,andyoucouldsurvivethisnight.Desjardinshasalwaysbeenyourenemy.SlayhimformenowandpresenthisbodyasagifttoApophis!IwillassureyoubothpositionsofhonorinanewworldruledbyChaos,unrestrictedbyanyrules.IcanevengiveyouthesecretofcuringWaltStone.”

He smiledatSadie’s stunnedexpression. “Yes,mygirl. Idoknowhow.The remedywas passeddownforgenerationsamongthepriestsofAmun-Ra.KillDesjardins,joinApophis,andtheboyyoulovewillbespared.”

I’ll be honest. His words were persuasive. I could imagine a new world where anything waspossible,wherenolawsapplied,noteventhelawsofphysics,andwecouldbeanythingwewanted.

Chaosisimpatient.It’srandom.Andaboveallit’sselfish.Ittearsdowneverythingjustforthesakeofchange,feedingonitselfinconstanthunger.ButChaoscanalsobeappealing.Ittemptsyoutobelievethatnothingmattersexceptwhatyouwant.AndtherewassomuchthatIwanted.Menshikov’srestoredvoicewassmoothandconfident,likeAmos’stonewheneverheusedmagictopersuademortals.

Thatwas theproblem.Menshikov’spromisewas a trick.Hiswordsweren’t evenhisown.Theywerebeingforcedoutofhim.Hiseyesmovedliketheywerereadingateleprompter.HespokethewillofApophis,butwhenhefinishedhelockedeyeswithme,andjustbrieflyIsawhisrealthoughts—atorturedpleahewould’vescreamedifhehadcontrolofhisownmouth:Killmenow.Please.

“I’msorry,Menshikov,”Isaid,andIsincerelymeantit.“Magiciansandgodshavetostandtogether.Theworldmayneedfixing,butit’sworthpreserving.Wewon’tletChaoswin.”

Then a lot of things happened at once. Sadie opened her scroll and began to read. Menshikovscreamed,“Attack!”andthedemonsrushedforward.Thegiantkitespreaditswings,deflectingablastofgreen fire fromMenshikov’s staff that probablywould’ve incinerated Sadie on the spot. I charged toprotecther,whileDesjardinssummonedawhirlwindaroundhisbodyandflewtowardVladMenshikov.

Iwadedthroughdemons.Iknockedoveronewitharazor-bladehead,grabbedhisankles,andswunghimaroundlikeaweapon,slicinghisalliesintopilesofsand.Sadie’sgiantkitepickeduptwomoreinitsclawsandtossedthemintotheriver.

Meanwhile Desjardins and Menshikov rose into the air, locked inside a tornado. They whirledaroundeachother,firingblastsoffire,poison,andacid.Demonswhogottooclosemeltedinstantly.

Inthemidstofallthis,SadiereadfromtheBookofRa.Ididn’tknowhowshecouldconcentrate,butherwordsrangoutclearandloud.Sheinvokedthedawnandtheriseofanewday.Goldenmistbegantospread around her feet, weaving through the dried shells as if searching for life. The entire beach

shuddered,andfarunderground,Apophisroaredinoutrage.“Oh,noes!”Rayelledbehindme.“Vegetables!”Iturnedandsawoneofthelargestdemonsboardingthesunboat,wickedknivesinallfourofhis

hands.Ragavehimtheraspberryandscamperedaway,hidingbehindhisfierythrone.I threwRazor-bladeHead into a crowdof his friends, grabbed a spear fromanother demon, and

threwittowardtheboat.Ifithadjustbeenmethrowing,mycompletelackoflong-shotskillsmighthavecausedmetoimpale

thesungod,whichwouldhavebeenprettyembarrassing.Fortunately,mynewgiantformhadaimworthyofHorus.Thespearhitthefour-armeddemonsquareintheback.Hedroppedhisknives,staggeredtotheedgeoftheboat,andfellintotheRiverofNight.

Raleanedoverthesideandgavehimonelastraspberryforgoodmeasure.Desjardins’tornadostillspunhimaround,lockedincombatwithMenshikov.Icouldn’ttellwhich

magicianhadtheupperhand.Sadie’skitewasdoingitsbesttoprotecther,impalingdemonswithitsbeakandcrushingtheminitshugeclaws.SomehowSadiekeptherconcentration.Thegoldenmistthickenedasitspreadoverthebeach.

TheremainingdemonsbegantopullbackasSadiespokethelastwordsofherspell:“‘Khepri,thescarabwhorisesfromdeath,therebirthofRa!’”

TheBookofRavanishedinaflash.Thegroundrumbled,andfromthemassofdeadshells,asinglescarabroseintotheair,alivinggoldenbeetlethatfloatedtowardSadieandcametorestinherhands.

Sadiesmiledtriumphantly.Ialmostdaredtohopewe’dwon.Thenhissinglaughterfilledthecavern.Desjardinslostcontrolofhiswhirlwind,andtheChiefLectorwentflyingtowardthesunboat,slammingintotheprowsohardhebroketherailandlayabsolutelystill.

VladimirMenshikovdropped to theground, landing inacrouch.Aroundhis feet, thedeadscarabshellsdissolved,turningintobloodredsand.

“Brilliant,”hesaid.“Brilliant,SadieKane!”Hestood,andallthemagicalenergyinthecavernseemedtoracetowardhisbody—goldenmist,red

light,glowinghieroglyphs—allofitcollapsingintoMenshikovasifhe’dtakenonthegravityofablackhole.

His ruined eyes healed.His blistered face became smooth, young, and handsome.Hiswhite suitmended itself, then the fabric turneddark red.Hisskin rippled,andI realizedwithachill thathewasgrowingsnakescales.

Onthesunboat,Ramuttered,“Oh,noes.Needzebras.”Theentirebeachturnedtoredsand.Menshikovheldouthishandtomysister.“Givemethescarab,Sadie.Iwillhavemercyonyou.You

andyourbrotherwilllive.Waltwilllive.”Sadieclutchedthescarab.Igotreadytocharge.Eveninthebodyofagianthawkwarrior,Icould

feeltheChaosenergygettingstrongerandstronger,sappingmystrength.Menshikovhadwarnedusthatnomortal could survive this cavern, and I believed him.We didn’t havemuch time, but we had to stopApophis.Inthebackofmymind,IacceptedthefactthatIwoulddie.Iwasactingnowforthesakeofourfriends,fortheKanefamily,forthewholemortalworld.

“Youwant the scarab,Apophis?”Sadie’s voicewas full of loathing. “Then come and get it, youdisgusting—”ShecalledApophissomewordssobad,Granwould’vewashedhermouthoutwithsoapforayear.[Andno,Sadie,I’mnotgoingtosaythemintothemicrophone.]

Menshikovsteppedtowardher.Ipickedupashoveloneofthedemonshaddropped.Sadie’sgiantkiteflewatMenshikov, its talonspoisedtostrike,butMenshikovflickedhishandlikehewasshooingawayafly.Themonsterdissolvedintocloudoffeathers.

“Doyoutakemeforagod?”Menshikovroared.

Ashe focused onSadie, I skirted behind him, doingmy best to sneak closer—which is not easywhenyou’reafifteen-foot-tallbirdman.

“IamChaositself!”Menshikovbellowed.“Iwillunknityourbones,dissolveyoursoul,andsendyoubacktotheprimordialoozeyoucamefrom.Now,givemethescarab!”

“Tempting,”Sadiesaid.“Whatdoyouthink,Carter?”Menshikovrealizedthetraptoolate.Ilungedforwardandhithimupsidetheheadwiththeshovel.

Menshikovcrumpled.Ibody-slammedhimintothesand,thenstoodupandstompedhiminalittledeeper.IburiedhimasbestIcould,thenSadiepointedathisburialsiteandspoketheglyphforfire.Thesandmelted,hardeningintoacoffin-sizeblockofsolidglass.

Iwould’vespitonit,too,butIwasn’tsureIcoulddothatwithafalconbeak.Thesurvivingdemonsdidthesensiblething.Theyfledinpanic.Afewjumpedintotheriverandlet

themselvesdissolve,whichwasarealtime-saverforus.“Thatwasn’t so hard,”Sadie said, though I could tell theChaos energywas starting towear her

down,too.Evenwhenshewasfiveandhadpneumonia,Idon’tthinkshelookedthisbad.“Hurry,”Isaid.Myadrenalinewasfadingquickly.Myavatarformwasstartingtofeellikeanextra

fivehundredpoundsofdeadweight.“GetthescarabtoRa.”Shenodded,andrantowardthesunboat;butshe’donlymadeithalfwaywhenMenshikov’sglass

graveblewup.ThemostpowerfulexplosivemagicI’deverseenwasSadie’sha-dispell.Thisblastwasaboutfifty

timesmorepowerful.Ahigh-poweredwaveof sand andglass shards knockedmeoffmy feet and shreddedmy avatar.

Backinmyregularbody,blindandinpain,IcrawledawayfromthelaughingvoiceofApophis.“Wheredidyougo,SadieKane?”Apophiscalled,hisvoicenowasdeepasacannonshot.“Where

isthatbadlittlegirlwithmyscarab?”Iblinkedthesandoutofmyeyes.VladMenshikov—no,hemightlooklikeVlad,buthewasApophis

now—wasaboutfiftyfeetaway,stalkingaroundtherimofthecraterhe’dmadeinthebeach.Heeitherdidn’t seeme, or he assumed Iwasdead.Hewas looking forSadie, but shewasnowhere.Theblastmust’veburiedherinthesand,orworse.

Mythroatclosedup.IwantedtogettomyfeetandtackleApophis,butmybodywouldn’twork.Mymagicwasdepleted.ThepowerofChaoswassappingmylifeforce.JustfrombeingnearApophisIfeltlike I was coming undone—my brain synapses, my DNA, everything that made me Carter Kane wasslowlydissolving.

Finally,Apophisspreadhisarms.“Nomatter.I’lldigyourbodyuplater.First,I’lldealwiththeoldman.”

For a second I thought he meant Desjardins, who was still crumpled lifelessly over the brokenrailing,butApophisclimbedintotheboat,ignoringtheChiefLector,andapproachedthethroneoffire.

“Hello,Ra,”hesaidinakindlyvoice.“It’sbeenalongtime.”Afeeblevoicefrombehindthechairsaid,“Can’tplay.Goaway.”“Wouldyoulikeatreat?”Apophisasked.“Weusedtoplaysonicelytogether.Everynight,tryingto

killeachother.Don’tyouremember?”Rapokedhisbaldheadabovethethrone.“Treat?”“How about a stuffed date?”Apophis pulled one out of the air. “You used to love stuffed dates,

didn’tyou?Allyouhavetodoiscomeoutandletmedevour—Imean,entertainyou.”“Wantacookie,”Rasaid.“Whatkind?”“Weaselcookie.”I’mheretotellyou,thatcommentaboutweaselcookiesprobablysavedtheknownuniverse.

Apophissteppedback,obviouslyconfusedbyacommentthatwasevenmorechaoticthanhewas.Andinthatmoment,MichelDesjardinsstruck.

TheChiefLectormusthavebeenplayingdead,ormaybehejustrecoveredquickly.HeroseupandlaunchedhimselfatApophis,slamminghimagainsttheburningthrone.

Menshikov screamed in his old raspy voice. Steamhissed likewater on a barbecue.Desjardins’robescaught fire.Ra scrambled to thebackof theboatandpokedhiscrook in theair like thatwouldmakethebadmengoaway.

Istruggledtomyfeet,butIstillfeltlikeIwascarryingafewhundredextrapounds.MenshikovandDesjardinsgrappledwitheachotherinfrontofthethrone.ThiswasthesceneI’dwitnessedintheHallofAges:thefirstmomentinanewage.

IknewIshouldhelp,butIscrambledalongthebeach,tryingtogaugethespotwhereI’dlastseenSadie.Ifelltomykneesandstartedtodig.

DesjardinsandMenshikovstruggledbackandforth,shoutingoutwordsofpower.IglancedoverandsawacloudofhieroglyphsandredlightswirlingaroundthemastheChiefLectorsummonedMa’at,andApophis just as quickly dissolved his spells with Chaos. As for Ra, the almighty sun god, he hadscrambledtothesternoftheboatandwascoweringunderthetiller.

Ikeptdigging.“Sadie,”Imuttered.“Comeon.Whereareyou?”Think,Itoldmyself.Iclosedmyeyes. I thoughtaboutSadie—everymemorywe’dsharedsinceChristmas.We’d lived

apartforyears,butoverthelastthreemonths,I’dbecomeclosertoherthantoanyoneelseintheworld.IfshecouldfigureoutmysecretnamewhileIwasunconscious,surelyIcouldfindherinapileofsand.

Iscrambledafewfeettotheleftandbegantodigagain.ImmediatelyIscratchedSadie’snose.Shegroaned,whichatleastmeantshewasalive.Ibrushedoffherfaceandshecoughed.Thensheraisedherarms,andIpulledheroutofthesand.Iwassorelieved,Ialmostsobbed;butbeingamachoguyandall,Ididn’t.

[Shutup,Sadie.I’mtellingthispart.]ApophisandDesjardinswerestillfightingbackandforthonthesunboat.Desjardinsyelled,“Heh-sieh!”andahieroglyphblazedbetweenthem:

Apophiswentflyingofftheboatlikehe’dbeenhookedbyamovingtrain.Hesailedrightoverusandlandedinthesandaboutfortyfeetaway.

“Niceone,”Sadiemutteredinadaze.“Glyphfor‘Turnback.’”Desjardinsstaggeredoffthesunboat.Hisrobeswerestillsmoldering,butfromhissleevehepulled

aceramicstatuette—aredsnakecarvedwithhieroglyphs.Sadiegasped.“AshabtiofApophis?Thepenaltyformakingthoseisdeath!”I could understand why. Images had power. In the wrong hands, they could strengthen or even

summonthebeingtheyrepresented,andastatueofApophiswaswaytoodangeroustoplaywith.Butitwasalsoanecessaryingredientforcertainspells….

“Anexecration,”Isaid.“He’stryingtoeraseApophis.”“That’simpossible!”Sadiesaid.“He’llbedestroyed!”Desjardins began to chant. Hieroglyphs glowed in the air around him, swirling into a cone of

protectivepower.Sadietriedtogettoherfeet,butshewasn’tinmuchbettershapethanIwas.Apophissatup.His facewasanightmareofburns fromthe throneof fire.He looked likeahalf-

cookedhamburgerpattysomeonehaddroppedinthesand.[Sadiesaysthat’stoogross.Well,I’msorry.It’saccurate.]

WhenhesawthestatueintheChiefLector’shands,heroaredinoutrage.“Areyouinsane,Michel?Youcan’texecrateme!”

“Apophis,”Desjardinschanted,“InameyouLordofChaos,SerpentintheDark,FearoftheTwelveHouses,theHatedOne—”

“Stopit!”Apophisbellowed.“Icannotbecontained!”HeshotablastoffireatDesjardins,buttheenergysimplyjoinedtheswirlingcloudaroundtheChief

Lector, turning into the hieroglyph for “heat.” Desjardins stumbled forward, aging before our eyes,becomingmorestoopedand frail,buthisvoice remainedstrong.“I speak for thegods. I speak for theHouseofLife.IamaservantofMa’at.Icastyouunderfoot.”

Desjardinsthrewdowntheredsnake,andApophisfelltohisside.TheLordofChaoshurledeverythinghehadatDesjardins—ice,poison, lightning,boulders—but

nothingconnected.TheyallsimplyturnedintohieroglyphsintheChiefLector’sshield,Chaosforcedintopatternsofwords—intothedivinelanguageofcreation.

Desjardinssmashedtheceramicsnakeunderhisfoot.Apophiswrithedinagony.ThethingthatusedtobeVladimirMenshikovcrumbledlikeawaxshell,andacreatureroseoutofit—aredsnake,coveredinslimelikeanewhatchling.Itbegantogrow,itsredscalesglisteninganditseyesglowing.

Itsvoicehissedinmymind:Icannotbecontained!But itwashaving trouble rising.The sand churned around it.Aportalwasopening, anchoredon

Apophishimself.“Ieraseyourname,”Desjardinssaid.“IremoveyoufromthememoryofEgypt.”Apophis screamed.The beach imploded around him, swallowing the serpent and sucking the red

sandintothevortex.I grabbed Sadie and ran for the boat. Desjardins had collapsed to his knees in exhaustion, but

somehowImanagedtohookhisarmanddraghimtotheshore.TogetherSadieandIhauledhimaboardthesunboat.Rafinallyscrambledoutfromhishidingplaceunderthetiller.Theglowingservantlightsmanned the oars, and we pulled away as the entire beach sank into the dark waters, flashes of redlightningripplingunderthesurface.

Desjardinswasdying.Thehieroglyphshadfadedaroundhim.Hisforeheadwasburninghot.Hisskinwasasdryandthin

asricepaper,andhisvoicewasaraggedwhisper.“Execrationw-won’tlast,”hewarned.“Onlyboughtyousometime.”Igrippedhishandlikehewasanoldfriend,notaformerenemy.Afterplayingsenetwiththemoon

god,buyingtimewasn’tsomethingItooklightly.“Whydidyoudoit?”Iasked.“Youusedallyourlifeforcetobanishhim.”

Desjardins smiled faintly. “Don’t like you much. But you were right. The old ways…our onlychance. Tell Amos…tell Amos what happened.” He clawed feebly at his leopard-skin cape, and Irealizedhewantedtoremoveit.Ihelpedhim,andhepressedthecapeintomyhands.“Showthisto…theothers.…TellAmos…”

Hiseyesrolledintohishead,andtheChiefLectorpassed.Hisbodydisintegratedintohieroglyphs—toomanytoread,thestoryofhisentirelife.ThenthewordsfloatedawaydowntheRiverofNight.

“Bye-bye,”Ramuttered.“Weaselsaresick.”I’dalmostforgottenabouttheoldgod.Heslumpedinhisthroneagain,restinghisheadontheloopof

hiscrookandswattinghisflailhalfheartedlyattheservantlights.Sadietookashakybreath.“Desjardinssavedus.I—Ididn’tlikehimeither,but—”

“Iknow,”Isaid.“Butwehavetokeepgoing.Doyoustillhavethescarab?”Sadiepulledthewrigglinggoldenscarabfromherpocket.TogetherweapproachedRa.“Takeit,”Itoldhim.Rawrinkledhisalreadywrinklednose.“Don’twantabug.”“It’syoursoul!”Sadiesnapped.“You’lltakeit,andyou’lllikeit!”Ralookedcowed.Hetookthebeetle,andtomyhorror,poppeditinhismouth.“No!”Sadieyelped.Toolate.Rahadswallowed.“Oh,god,”Sadiesaid.“Washesupposedtodothat?Maybehewassupposedtodothat.”“Don’tlikebugs,”Ramuttered.Wewaitedforhimtochangeintoapowerfulyouthfulking.Instead,heburped.Hestayedold,and

weird,anddisgusting.Inadaze,IwalkedwithSadiebacktothefrontoftheship.We’ddoneeverythingwecould,andyetI

feltlikewe’dlost.Aswesailedon,themagicpressureseemedtoease.Theriverappearedlevel,butIcouldsensewewererisingrapidlythroughtheDuat.Despitethat,Istillfeltlikemyinsidesweremelting.Sadiedidn’tlookanybetter.

Menshikov’swordsechoedinmyhead:Mortalscan’tleavethiscavernalive.“It’sChaossickness,”Sadiesaid.“We’renotgoingtomakeit,arewe?”“Wehavetoholdon,”Isaid.“Atleastuntildawn.”“Allthat,”Sadiesaid,“andwhathappened?Weretrievedasenilegod.WelostBesandtheChief

Lector.Andwe’redying.”ItookSadie’shand.“Maybenot.Look.”Ahead of us, the tunnelwas getting brighter.The cavernwalls dissolved, and the riverwidened.

Twopillars rose from thewater—two giant golden scarab statues.Beyond themgleamed themorningskylineofManhattan.TheRiverofNightwasemptyingoutintoNewYorkHarbor.

“Eachnewdawnisanewworld,”Irememberedourdadsaying.“Maybewe’llbehealed.”“Ra,too?”Sadieasked.Ididn’thaveananswer,butIwasstartingtofeelbetter,stronger,likeI’dhadagoodnight’ssleep.

Aswe passed between the golden scarab statues, I looked to our right.Across thewater, smokewasrising fromBrooklyn—flashesofmulticolored lightandstreaksof fireaswingedcreaturesengaged inaerialcombat.

“They’restillalive,”Sadiesaid.“Theyneedhelp!”Weturnedthesunboattowardhome—andsailedstraightintobattle.

SADIE

23.WeThrowaWildHouseParty

[FATALMISTAKE,CARTER.Givingmethemicrophoneatthemostimportantpart?You’llnevergetitbacknow.Theendofthestoryismine.Ha-ha-ha!]

Oh,thatfeltgood.I’dbeexcellentatworlddomination.ButIdigress.

Youmight’veseennewsreportsaboutthestrangedoublesunriseoverBrooklynonthemorningofMarchtwenty-first.Thereweremany theories:haze in theair frompollution,a temperaturedrop in the loweratmosphere, aliens, or perhaps another sewer-gas leak causing mass hysteria. We love sewer gas inBrooklyn!

Icanconfirm,however,thattherebrieflyweretwosunsinthesky.IknowthisbecauseIwasinoneofthem.Thenormalsunroseasusual.ButtherewasalsotheboatofRa,blazingasitrosefromtheDuat,outofNewYorkHarborandintotheskyofthemortalworld.

To observers below, the second sun appeared tomergewith the light of the first.What actuallyhappened?ThesunboatdimmedasitdescendedtowardBrooklynHouse,wherethemansion’santimortalcamouflageshieldingenvelopedit,andmadeitseemtodisappear.

The shielding was already working overtime, as a full-fledged war was in progress. Freak theGriffinwasdivingthroughtheair,engagingthewingedflamingsnakes,theuraei,inaerialcombat.

[Iknowthat’sahorriblewordtopronounce,uraei,butCarterinsistsit’sthepluralforuraeus,andthere’snoarguingwithhim.Justsayyou’rerightandleaveoffthet,andyou’vegotit.]

Freakyelled, “Freaaaak!”andgobbledupauraeus, buthewas sorelyoutnumbered.His furwassinged, and his buzzing wings must’ve been damaged, as he kept spinning in circles like a brokenhelicopter.

His rooftopnestwas on fire.Our portal sphinxwasbroken, and the chimneywas stainedwith amassiveblack star-burstwhere somethingor someonehadexploded.Asquadof enemymagiciansanddemonshadtakencoverbehindtheairconditioningunitandwerepinnedincombatagainstZiaandWalt,whowereguardingthestairwell.Bothsidesthrewfire,shabti,andglowinghieroglyphicbombsacrosstheno-man’slandoftheroof.

Aswe descended over the enemy, oldRa (yes, hewas still just as senile andwithered as ever)leanedoverthesideandwavedateveryonewithhiscrook.“Hel-lo-o-o-o!Zebras!”

Both sides looked up in amazement. “Ra!” one demon screamed.Then everyone took up the cry:“Ra?”“Ra!”“Ra!”

Theysoundedliketheworld’smostterrifiedpepsquad.Theuraeistoppedspittingfire,muchtoFreak’ssurprise,andimmediatelyflewtothesunboat.They

begancirclinguslikeanhonorguard,andIrememberedwhatMenshikovhadsaidaboutthemoriginallybeingcreaturesofRa.Apparentlytheyrecognizedtheiroldmaster(emphasisonold.)

Mostoftheenemiesbelowusscatteredastheboatcamedown,buttheslowestofthedemonssaid,“Ra?”andlookedupjustasoursunboatlandedontopofhimwithasatisfyingcrunch.

CarterandIjumpedintobattle.Inspiteofallwe’dbethrough,Ifeltwonderful.TheChaossicknesshaddisappearedassoonaswe’drisenfromtheDuat.Mymagicwasstrong.Myspiritswerehigh.IfI’djusthadashower,somefreshclothes,andapropercupoftea,Iwould’vebeeninparadise.(Strikethat;

nowthatI’dseenParadise,Ididn’tmuchlikeit.I’dsettleformyownroom.)Izappedonedemonintoatigerandunleashedhimonhisbrethren.Carterpoppedintoavatarform—

theglowinggoldenkind,thankgoodness;thethree-meter-tallbirdmanhadbeenabittooscaryforme.Hesmashedhiswaythroughtheterrifiedenemymagicians,andwithasweepofhishandsentthemsailingintotheEastRiver.ZiaandWaltcameoutfromthestairwellandhelpedusmopupthestragglers.Thentheyrantouswithbiggrinsontheirfaces.Theylookedbatteredandbruisedbutstillverymuchalive.

“FREEEEK!”saidthegriffin.HeswoopeddownandlandednexttoCarter,head-buttinghiscombatavatar,whichIhopedwasasignofaffection.

“Hey, buddy.” Carter rubbed his head, careful to avoid themonster’s chain-sawwings. “What’shappening,guys?”

“Talkingdidn’twork,”Ziasaiddrily.“Theenemy’sbeentryingtobreakinallnight,”Waltsaid.“AmosandBasthaveheldthemoff,but

—”Heglancedatthesunboat,andhisvoicefaltered.“Isthat—thatisn’t—”“Zebra!”Racalled,totteringtowarduswithabigtoothlessgrin.HewalkedstraightuptoZiaandpulledsomethingoutofhismouth—theglowinggoldscarab,now

quitewetbutundigested.Heofferedittoher.“Ilikezebras.”Ziabackedup.“Thisis—thisisRa,theLordoftheSun?Whyisheofferingmeabug?”“Andwhatdoeshemeanaboutzebras?”Waltasked.RalookedatWaltandcluckeddisapprovingly.“Weaselsaresick.”Suddenlyachillwentthroughme.MyheadspunasiftheChaossicknesswasreturning.Intheback

ofmind,anideastartedtoform—somethingveryimportant.Zebras…Zia.Weasels…Walt.BeforeIcouldthinkaboutthisfurther,alargeBOOM!shookthebuilding.Chunksoflimestoneflew

fromthesideofthemansionandraineddownonthewarehouseyard.“They’vebreachedthewallsagain!”Waltsaid.“Hurry!”

Iconsidermyself fairlyscatteredandhyper,but the restof thebattlehappened too fastevenforme tokeeptrackof.RaabsolutelyrefusedtobepartedfromZebraandWeasel(sorry,ZiaandWalt),sowelefthimintheircareatthesunboatwhileFreakloweredCarterandmetothedeckbelow.WedroppedfromhisclawsontothebuffettableandfoundBastwhirlingaroundwithherknivesinhand,slicingdemonstosandandkickingmagicians into theswimmingpool,whereouralbinocrocodile,PhilipofMacedonia,wasonlytoohappytoentertainthem.

“Sadie!”shecriedwithrelief.[Yes,Carter,shecalledmynameinsteadofyours,butshe’sknownme longer, after all.] She seemed to be having a great deal of fun, but her tonewas urgent. “They’vebreachedtheeastwall.Getinside!”

Weranthroughthedoorway,dodgingarandomwombatthatwentflyingoverourheads—possiblysomeone’sspellgoneawry—andsteppedintocompletepandemonium.

“HolyHorus,”Cartersaid.In fact, Horus was about the only thing not doing battle in the Great Room. Khufu, our intrepid

baboon,wasridinganoldmagicianaroundtheroom,chokinghimwithhisownwandandsteeringhimintowallsas themage turnedblue.Felixhadunleashedasquadofpenguinsonanothermagician,whocowered in a magic circle with some sort of posttraumatic stress, screaming, “Not Antarctica again!Anythingbut that!”Alyssawas summoning thepowersofGeb to repair amassivehole theenemyhadblastedinthefarwall.Julianhadsummonedacombatavatarforthefirsttime,andwasslicingdemonswithhisglowingsword.EvenbookishCleowasdashingabouttheroom,pullingscrollsfromherpouchandreadingrandomwordsofpowerlike“Blind!”“Horizontal!”and“Gassy!”(which,bytheway,workwonderstoincapacitateanenemy).EverywhereIlooked,ourinitiateswererulingtheday.Theyfoughtas

ifthey’dbeenwaitingallnightforthechancetostrike,whichIsupposewasexactlythecase.AndtherewasJaz—Jaz!Upandlookingquitehealthy!—knockinganenemyshabtistraightintothefireplace,whereitbrokeintoathousandpieces.

I feltanoverwhelmingsenseofpride,andnotasmallamountofamazement. I’dbeensoworriedaboutouryoungtrainees’surviving,yettheywerequitesimplydominatingamuchmoreseasonedgroupofmagicians.

Mostimpressive,though,wasAmos.I’dseenhimdomagic,butneverlikethis.HestoodatthebaseofThoth’sstatue,swirlinghisstaffandsummoninglightningandthunder,blastingenemymagicians,andflingingthemawayinminiaturestormclouds.Awomanmagicianchargedathim,herstaffglowingwithredflames,butAmossimplytappedthefloor.Themarbletilesturnedtosandatherfeet,andthewomansankuptoherneck.

CarterandIlookedateachother,grinned,andjoinedthefight.Itwasacompleterout.Soonthedemonshadbeenreducedtosandpiles,andtheenemymagicians

began scattering in panic.No doubt they’d been expecting to fight a band of untrained children. Theyhadn’tcountedonthefullKanetreatment.

Oneofthewomenmanagedtoopenaportalinthefarwall.Stopthem, thevoiceofIsisspokeinmymind,whichwasquiteashockaftersucha longsilence.

Theymusthearthetruth.Idon’tknowwhereIgottheidea,butIraisedmyarmsandshimmeringrainbowwingsappearedon

eithersideofme—thewingsofIsis.Isweptmyarms.Ablastofwindandmulticoloredlightknockedourenemiesofftheirfeet,leaving

ourfriendsperfectlyunharmed.“Listen!”Ibellowed.Everyonefellsilent.Myvoicenormallysoundsbossy,butnowitseemedmagnifiedbyafactorof

ten.Thewingsprobablycommandedattentionaswell.“We’renotyourenemies!”Isaid.“Idon’tcareifyoulikeus,buttheworldhaschanged.Youneedto

hearwhat’shappened.”MymagicwingsfadedasItoldeveryoneaboutourtripthroughtheDuat,Ra’srebirth,Menshikov’s

betrayal,therisingofApophis,andDesjardins’sacrificetobanishtheSerpent.“Lies!”AnAsianmanincharredbluerobessteppedforward.FromthevisionCarterhaddescribed,

IsupposedthathewasKwai.“It’strue,”Cartersaid.Hisavatarnolongersurroundedhim.Hisclotheshadrevertedtothenormal

mortaloneswe’dboughthiminCairo,butsomehowhestilllookedquiteimposing,quiteconfident.Hehelduptheleopard-skincapeoftheChiefLector,andIcouldfeelarippleofshockspreadthroughtheroom.

“Desjardins foughtatour side,”Carter said.“HedefeatedMenshikovandexecratedApophis.Hesacrificedhislifetobuyusalittletime.ButApophiswillbeback.Desjardinswantedyoutoknow.Withhislastwords,hetoldmetoshowyouthiscapeandexplainthetruth.Especiallyyou,Amos.Hewantedyoutoknow—thepathofgodshastoberestored.”

Theenemy’sescapeportalwasstillswirling.Noonehadsteppedthroughyet.Thewomanwho’d summoned it spit onour floor.Shehadwhite robes and spikyblackhair.She

shoutedtohercomrades,“Whatareyouwaitingfor?TheybringustheChiefLector’scapeandtellusthiscrazystory.They’reKanes!Traitors!TheyprobablykilledDesjardinsandMenshikovthemselves.”

Amos’svoiceboomedacrosstheGreatRoom:“SarahJacobi!Youofallpeopleknowthatisn’ttrue.You’vedevotedyourlifetostudyingthewaysofChaos.YoucansensetheunleashingofApophis,can’tyou?AndthereturnofRa.”

Amospointedoutthroughtheglassdoorsleadingtothedeck.Idon’tknowhowhesenseditwithout

looking,butthesunboatwasjustfloatingdown,comingtorestinPhilip’sswimmingpool.Itwasquiteanimpressivelanding.ZiaandWaltstoodoneithersideofthethroneoffire.They’dmanagedtopropupRasothathelookedabitmoreregalwithhiscrookandflailinhishands,thoughhestillhadagoofygrinonhisface.

Bast,who’dbeenstandingonthedeckfrozeninshock,felltoherknees.“Myking!”“Hel-llo-o-o-o-o,”Rawarbled.“Goood-bye!”Iwasn’tsurewhathemeant,butBastshottoherfeet,suddenlyalarmed.“He’sgoingtoriseintotheheavens!”shesaid.“Walt,Zia,jumpoff!”Theydid,justintime.Thesunboatbegantoglow.Bastturnedtomeandcalled,“I’llescorthimto

theother gods!Don’tworry.Back soon!”She jumpedonboard, and the sunboat floated into the sky,turningintoaballoffire.Thenitblendedwiththesunlightandwasgone.

“Thereisyourproof,”Amosannounced.“ThegodsandtheHouseofLifemustworktogether.SadieandCarterareright.TheSerpentwillnotstaydownforlong,nowthathehasbrokenhischains.Whowilljoinus?”

Severalenemymagiciansthrewdowntheirstaffsandwands.Thewoman inwhite, Sarah Jacobi, snarled, “The other nomeswill never recognize your claim,

Kane.YouaretaintedwiththepowerofSet!We’llspreadtheword.We’llletthemknowyoumurderedDesjardins.They’llneverfollowyou!”

She leaped through the portal. The man in blue, Kwai, studied us with contempt, then followedJacobi.Threeothersdidaswell,butweletthemleaveinpeace.

Reverently,Amostooktheleopard-skincapefromCarter’shands.“PoorMichel.”Everyone gathered around the statue of Thoth. For the first time, I realized how badly theGreat

Roomhadbeendamaged.Wallshadbeencracked,windowsbroken,relicssmashed,andAmos’smusicalinstruments halfmelted. For the second time in threemonths,we’d almost destroyedBrooklynHouse.Thathadtobearecord.AndyetIwantedtogiveeveryoneintheroomahugehug.

“Youallwerebrilliant,”Isaid.“Youdestroyedtheenemyinseconds!Ifyoucanfightsowell,howweretheyabletokeepyoupinneddownallnight?”

“Butwe could barely keep them out!” Felix said.He lookedmystified by his own success. “Bydawn,Iwas,like,completelyoutofenergy.”

Theothersnoddedgrimly.“AndIwasinacoma,”saidafamiliarvoice.JazpushedthroughthecrowdandembracedCarter

andme.Itwassogoodtoseeher,IfeltridiculousthatI’deverbeenjealousofherandWalt.“You’reallrightnow?”Iheldhershouldersandstudiedherfaceforanysignofsickness,butshe

lookedherusualbubblyself.“I’mfine!”shesaid.“Rightatdawn,Iwokeupfeelinggreat.Iguessassoonasyouarrived…Idon’t

know.Somethinghappened.”“ThepowerofRa,”Amossaid.“Whenhe rose,hebroughtnew life,newenergy toallofus.He

revitalizedourspirit.Withoutthat,wewould’vefailed.”IturnedtoWalt,notdaringtoask.Wasitpossiblehe’dbeencuredaswell?Butthelookinhiseyes

toldmethatprayerhadnotbeenanswered.Isupposehecouldfeelthepaininhislimbsafterdoingsomuchmagic.

Weaselsaresick,Rahadoftenrepeated.Iwasn’tsurewhyRawassointerestedinWalt’scondition,butapparentlyitwasbeyondeventhesungod’spowertofix.

“Amos,”Carter said, interruptingmy thoughts, “what did Jacobimean about the other nomes notrecognizingyourclaim?”

Icouldn’thelpit.Isighedandrolledmyeyesathim.Mybrothercanbequitethicksometimes.“What?”hedemanded.

“Carter,” I said, “do you remember our talking about themost powerfulmagicians in theworld?Desjardinswas thefirst.Menshikovwas the third.Andyouwereworriedaboutwhothesecondmightbe?”

“Yeah,”headmitted.“But—”“And now that Desjardins is dead, the second-most powerful magician is the most powerful

magician.Andwhodoyouthinkthatis?”Slowly,hisbraincellsmust’vefired,whichisproofthatmiraclescanhappen.Heturnedtostareat

Amos.Ourunclenoddedsolemnly.“I’mafraidso,children.”Amosdrapedtheleopard-skincapearoundhisshoulders.“Likeitornot,

theresponsibilityofleadershipfallstome.IamthenewChiefLector.”

SADIE

24.IMakeanImpossiblePromise

IDON’TLIKEGOOD-BYES,andyetIhavetotellyouaboutsomanyofthem.[No,Carter.Thatwasn’taninvitationtotakethemicrophone.Pushoff!]By sunset, Brooklyn House was back in order. Alyssa took care of the masonry almost single-

handedlywiththepoweroftheearthgod.Ourinitiatesknewthehi-nehmspellwellenoughtofixmostoftheotherbroken things.Khufushowedasmuchdexteritywith ragsandcleaning fluidashedidwithabasketball, and it’s truly amazing howmuch polishing, dusting, and scrubbing one can accomplish byattachinglargedustingclothstothewingsofagriffin.

Wehadseveralmeetingsduringtheday.PhilipofMacedoniakeptguardinthepool,andourshabtiarmy patrolled the grounds, but no one tried to attack—neither the forces of Apophis nor our fellowmagicians. I could almost feel the collective shock spreading throughout the three hundred and sixtynomesastheylearnedthenews:Desjardinswasdead,Apophishadrisen,Rawasback,andAmosKanewasthenewChiefLector.Whichfactwasmostalarmingtothem,Ididn’tknow,butIthoughtwe’dhaveatleastalittlebreathingspacewhiletheothernomesprocessedtheturnofeventsanddecidedwhattodo.

Justbeforesunset,CarterandIwerebackontheroofasZiaopenedaportaltoCairoforherselfandAmos.

Withherblackhairfreshlycutandanewsetofbeigerobes,Zialookedlikeshehadn’tchangedabitsincewefirstspokewithherattheMetropolitanMuseum,eventhoughsomuchhadhappenedsincethen.AndIsuppose,technicallyspeaking,thathadn’tbeenheratthemuseumatall,sinceitwashershabti.

[Yes,Iknow.Horriblyconfusingtokeeptrackofallthat.Youshouldlearnthespellforsummoningheadachemedicine.Itworkswonders.]

Theswirlinggateappeared,andZiaturnedtosayhergood-byes.“I’llaccompanyAmos—ImeantheChiefLector—totheFirstNome,”shepromised.“I’llmakesure

heisrecognizedastheleaderoftheHouse.”“They’llopposeyou,”Isaid.“Becareful.”Amossmiled.“We’llbefine.Don’tworry.”Hewasdressedinhisusualdapperstyle:agoldsilksuitthatmatchedhisnewleopard-skincape,a

porkpiehat,andgoldbeadsinhisbraidedhair.Athissidesataleatherduffelbagandasaxophonecase.Iimaginedhimsittingonthestepsofthepharaoh’sthrone,playingtenorsax—JohnColtrane,perhaps—asanewageunfoldedinpurplelightandglowinghieroglyphspoppedoutofhishorn.

“I’llkeepintouch,”hepromised.“Besides,youhavethingswellinhandhereatBrooklynHouse.Youdon’tneedamentoranymore.”

I tried to lookbrave, thoughIhatedhis leaving.Justbecause Iwas thirteendidn’tmeanIwantedadultresponsibilities.CertainlyIdidn’twanttoruntheTwenty-firstNomeorleadarmiesintowar.ButIsupposenoonewho’sputinsuchapositioneverfeelsready.

ZiaputherhandonCarter’sarm.Hejumpedasifshe’dtouchedhimwithadefibrillatorpaddle.“We’lltalksoon,”shesaid,“after…afterthingshavesettled.But,thankyou.”Carternodded,thoughhelookedcrestfallen.Weallknewthingswouldn’tsettleanytimesoon.There

wasnoguaranteewe’devenlivelongenoughtoseeZiaagain.“Takecareofyourself,”Cartersaid.“You’vegotanimportantroletoplay.”Ziaglancedatme.Astrangesortofunderstandingpassedbetweenus.Ithinkshe’dbeguntohavea

suspicion,adeep-seateddread,aboutwhatherrolemightbe.Ican’tsayIunderstoodityetmyself,butIsharedherdisquiet.Zebras,Rahadsaid.He’dwokenuptalkingaboutzebras.

“Ifyouneedus,”Isaid,“don’thesitate.I’llpopoverandgivethoseFirstNomemagiciansaproperthrashing.”

Amoskissedmyforehead.HepattedCarterontheshoulder.“You’vebothmademeproud.You’vegivenmehopeforthefirsttimeinyears.”

Iwantedthemtostaylonger.Iwantedtotalkwiththemabitmore.ButmyexperiencewithKhonsuhadtaughtmenottobegreedyabouttime.Itwasbesttoappreciatewhatyouhadandnotyearnformore.

AmosandZiasteppedthroughtheportalanddisappeared.

Justasthesunwassetting,anexhausted-lookingBastappearedintheGreatRoom.Insteadofherusualbodysuit,sheworeaformalEgyptiandressandheavyjewelrythatlookedquiteuncomfortable.

“I’dforgottenhowharditisridingthesunboatthroughthesky,”shesaid,wipingherbrow.“Andhot.Nexttime,I’llbringasaucerandacoolerfullofmilk.”

“IsRaokay?”Iasked.Thecatgoddesspursedherlips.“Well…he’sthesame.Isteeredtheboattothethroneroomofthe

gods.They’regettinga freshcrewready for tonight’s journey.Butyoushouldcomeseehimbeforeheleaves.”

“Tonight’sjourney?”Carterasked.“ThroughtheDuat?Wejustbroughthimback!”Bastspreadherhands.“Whatdidyouexpect?You’verestartedtheancientcycle.Rawillspendthe

daysintheheavensandthenightsontheriver.Thegodswillhavetoguardhimastheyusedto.Comeon;weonlyhaveafewminutes.”

Iwasabouttoaskhowsheplannedongettingustothegods’throneroom.Basthadrepeatedlytoldus she’s no good at summoning portals. Then a door of pure shadowopened in themiddle of the air.Anubissteppedthrough,lookingannoyinglygorgeousasusualinhisblackjeansandleatherjacket,withawhitecottonshirtthathuggedhischestsowellIwonderedifhewasshowingoffonpurpose.Isuspectednot.Heprobablyrolledoutofbedinthemorninglookingthatperfect.

Right…thatimagedidnothelpimprovemyconcentration.“Hello, Sadie,” he said. [Yes, Carter. He addressedme first, too.What can I say? I’m just that

important.]Itriedtolookcrosswithhim.“Soit’syou.Missedyouintheunderworldwhileweweregambling

oursoulsaway.”“Yes,I’mgladyousurvived,”hesaid.“Youreulogywould’vebeenhardtowrite.”“Oh,ha-ha.Wherewereyou?”Extrasadnesscreptintohisbrowneyes.“Asideproject,”hesaid.“Butrightnow,weshouldhurry.”Hegesturedtowardthedoorofdarkness.JusttoshowhimIwasn’tafraid,Imarchedthroughfirst.Ontheotherside,wefoundourselvesinthethroneroomofthegods.Acrowdofassembleddeities

turnedtofaceus.Thepalaceseemedevengranderthanthelasttimewe’dbeenthere.Thecolumnsweretaller,more intricatelypainted.Thepolishedmarble floor swirledwithconstellationdesigns, as ifweweresteppingacrossthegalaxy.Theceilingblazedlikeonegiantfluorescentpanel.ThedaisandthroneofHorushadbeenmovedtooneside,soitlookedmorelikeanobserver’schairnow,ratherthanthemainevent.

In thecenterof theroom, thesunboatglowedindrydockscaffolding.Its light-orbcrewflutteredabout,cleaningthehullandcheckingtherigging.Uraeicircledthethroneoffire,whereRasatdressedintheraimentofanEgyptianking,hisflailandcrookinhislap.Hischinwasonhischest,andhesnoredloudly.

Amuscularyoungmaninleatherarmorsteppedtowardus.Hehadashavenheadandtwodifferent-

coloredeyes—onesilver,onegold.“Welcome,CarterandSadie,”Horussaid.“Wearehonored.”Hiswordsdidn’tmatchhistone,whichwasstiffandformal.Theothergodsbowedrespectfullyto

us,butIcouldfeeltheirhostilitysimmeringjustbelowthesurface.Theywerealldressedintheirfinestarmorandlookedquiteimposing.Sobekthecrocodilegod(notmyfavorite)woreglitteringgreenchainmailandcarriedamassivestaffthatflowedwithwater.Nekhbetlookedaboutascleaned-upasavulturecan,herfeatheredblackcloaksilkyandplush.Sheinclinedherheadtome,buthereyestoldmeshestillwantedtotearmeapart.Babithebaboongodhadgottenhisteethbrushedandhisfurcombed.Hewasholdingarugbyball—possiblybecauseGrampshadinfectedhimwiththeobsession.

Khonsustoodinhisglitterysilversuit,tossingacoinintheairandsmiling.Iwantedtopunchhim,buthenoddedasifwewereoldfriends.EvenSetwasthere,inhisdevilishreddiscosuit,leaningagainstacolumnatthebackofthecrowd,holdinghisblackironstaff.Irememberedthathe’dpromisednottokillmeonlyuntilwefreedRa,butatthemoment,heseemedrelaxed.Hetippedhishatandgrinnedatmeasifenjoyingmydiscomfort.

Thoththeknowledgegodwastheonlyonewhohadn’tdressedup.Heworehisusualjeansandlabcoatcoveredwithscribbles.Hestudiedmewithhisstrangekaleidoscopeeyes,andIgotthefeelinghewastheonlyoneintheroomwhoactuallypitiedmydiscomfort.

Isissteppedforward.Herlongblackhairwasbraideddownbehindtheshouldersofhergossamerdress.Herrainbowwingsshimmeredbehindher.Shebowedtomeformally,butIcouldfeelthewavesofcoldcomingoffher.

Horusturnedtotheassembledgods.Irealizedhewasnolongerwearingthepharaoh’scrown.“Behold!” he told the crowd. “Carter and SadieKane,who awakened our king! Let there be no

doubt:Apophistheenemyhasrisen.WemustunitebehindRa.”Ramutteredinhissleep,“Fish,cookie,weasel,”thenwentbacktosnoring.Horusclearedhisthroat.“Ipledgemyloyalty!Iexpectyoualltodothesame.IwillprotectRa’s

boataswepassthroughtheDuattonight.Eachofyoushalltaketurnswiththisdutyuntilthesungodis…fullyrecovered.”

Hesoundedabsolutelyunconvincedthiswouldeverhappen.“WewillfindawaytodefeatApophis!”hesaid.“Now,celebratethereturnofRa!IembraceCarter

Kaneasabrother.”Music began to play, echoing through the halls. Ra, still on his throne on his boat,woke up and

started clapping. He grinned as gods swirled around him, some in human form, some dissolving intowispsofcloud,flame,orlight.

Isis tookmyhands.“Ihopeyouknowwhatyou’redoing,Sadie,”shesaid ina frigidvoice.“Ourgreatestenemyrises,andyouhavedethronedmysonandmadeasenilegodourleader.”

“Giveitachance,”Isaid,thoughmyanklesfeltliketheywereturningtobutter.HorusclaspedCarter’sshoulders.Hiswordsweren’tanyfriendlier.“Iamyourally,Carter,”Horuspromised.“Iwilllendyoumystrengthwheneveryouask.Youwill

revivethepathofmymagicintheHouseofLife,andwewillfighttogethertodestroytheSerpent.Butmakenomistake:youhavecostmeathrone.Ifyourchoicecostsusthewar,IswearmylastactbeforeApophis swallowsmewill be to crush you like a gnat.And if it comes to pass thatwewin thiswarwithoutRa’shelp,ifyouhavedisgracedmefornothing,IswearthatthedeathofCleopatraandthecurseofAkhenatonwilllooklikenothingcomparedtothewrathIwillvisitonyouandyourfamilyforalltime.Doyouunderstand?”

ToCarter’scredit,heheldupunderthegazeofthewargod.“Justdoyourpart,”Cartersaid.HoruslaughedfortheaudienceasifheandCarterhadjustsharedagoodjoke.“Gonow,Carter.See

whatyourvictoryhascost.Letushopeallyouralliesdonotsharesuchafate.”Horusturnedhisbackonusandjoinedthecelebration.Isissmiledatmeonelasttimeanddissolved

intoasparklingrainbow.Bast stood atmy side, holdingher tongue, but she looked as if shewanted to shredHorus like a

scratchingpost.Anubislookedembarrassed.“I’msorry,Sadie.Thegodscanbe—”“Ungrateful?”Iasked.“Infuriating?”Hisfaceflushed.IsupposedhethoughtIwasreferringtohim.“Wecanbeslowtorealizewhat is important,”hesaidat last.“Sometimes, it takesusawhile to

appreciatesomethingnew,somethingthatmightchangeusforthebetter.”Hefixedmewiththosewarmeyes,andIwantedtomeltintoapuddle.“Weshouldgo,”Bastinterrupted.“Onemorestop,ifyou’reupforit.”“Thecostofvictory,”Carterremembered.“Bes?Ishealive?”Bastsighed.“Difficultquestion.Thisway.”

ThelastplaceIwantedtoseeagainwasSunnyAcres.Nothingmuchhadchanged in thenursinghome.No renewingsunlighthadhelped the senilegods.

They were still wheeling their IV poles around, banging into walls, singing ancient hymns as theysearchedinvainfortemplesthatnolongerexisted.

Anewpatienthadjoinedthem.Bessatinahospitalgowninawickerchair,gazingoutthewindowattheLakeofFire.

Tawaretkneltathisside,hertinyhippoeyesredfromcrying.Shewastryingtogethimtodrinkfromaglass.

Waterdribbleddownhischin.Hegazedblanklyatthefierywaterfallinthedistance,hiscraggyfaceawashinredlight.Hiscurlyhairwasnewlycombed,andheworeafreshblueHawaiianshirtandshorts,sohe lookedquitecomfortable.Buthisbrowwas furrowed.His fingersgripped thearmrests,as ifheknewheshouldremembersomething,butcouldn’t.

“That’s all right, Bes.” Tawaret’s voice quivered as she dabbed a napkin under his chin. “We’llworkonit.I’lltakecareofyou.”

Then shenoticedus.Herexpressionhardened.Forakindlygoddessof childbirth,Tawaret couldlookquitescarywhenshewantedto.

Shepattedthedwarfgod’sknee.“I’llberightback,dearBes.”Shestood,whichwasquiteanaccomplishmentwithherswollenbelly,andsteeredusawayfromhis

chair.“Howdareyoucomehere!Asifyouhaven’tdoneenough!”IwasabouttobreakintotearsandapologizewhenIrealizedherangerwasn’taimedatCarteror

me.ShewasglaringatBast.“Tawaret…”Bastturnedupherpalms.“Ididn’twantthis.Hewasmyfriend.”“Hewas one of your cat toys!” Tawaret shouted so loudly, a few of the patients started crying.

“You’reasselfishasallyourkind,Bast.Youusedhimanddiscardedhim.Youknewhelovedyou,andtookadvantageofit.Youplayedwithhimlikeamouseunderyourpaw.”

“That’s not fair,” Bastmurmured, but her hair started to puff up as it doeswhen she’s scared. Icouldn’tblameher.There’salmostnothingmorefrighteningthananenragedhippo.

Tawaretstompedherfootsohard,herhighheelbroke.“Besdeservedbetterthanthis.Hedeservedbetterthanyou.Hehadagoodheart.I—Ineverforgothim!”

Isensedaveryviolent,one-sidedcat–hippofightabouttobegin.Idon’tknowifIspokeuptosaveBast, or to spare the traumatized patients, or to assuage my own guilt, but I stepped between thegoddesses.“We’llfixthis,”Iblurtedout.“Tawaret,Iswearonmylife.WewillfindawaytohealBes.”

Shelookedatme,andtheangerdrainedfromhereyesuntiltherewasnothingleftbutpity.“Child,ohchild…Iknowyoumeanwell.Butdon’tgivemefalsehope.I’velivedwithfalsehopestoolong.Go—seehim if youmust. Seewhat’s happened to the best dwarf in theworld.Then leave us alone.Don’tpromisemewhatcan’thappen.”

Sheturnedandhobbledonherbrokenshoetothenurses’desk.Bastloweredherhead.Sheworeaveryuncatlikeexpression:shame.

“I’llwaithere,”sheannounced.Icouldtellthatwasherfinalanswer,soCarterandIapproachedBesbyourselves.Thedwarfgodhadn’tmoved.Hesatinhiswickerchair,hismouthslightlyopen,hiseyesfixedon

theLakeofFire.“Bes.”Iputmyhandonhisarm.“Canyouhearme?”Hedidn’tanswer,ofcourse.Heworeabraceletonhiswristwithhisnamewritteninhieroglyphs,

lovinglydecorated,probablybyTawaretherself.“I’msosorry,”Isaid.“We’llgetyourrenback.We’llfindawaytohealyou.Won’twe,Carter?”“Yeah.”Heclearedhis throat,andIcanassureyouhewasnotactingverymachoat thatmoment.

“Yeah,Iswearit,Bes.Ifit’s…”Hewasprobablygoingtosayifit’sthelastthingwedo,buthewiselydecidedagainstit.Giventhe

impendingwarwithApophis,itwasbestnottothinkabouthowsoonourlivesmightend.I leaneddownandkissedBes’sforehead.I rememberedhowwe’dmetatWaterlooStation,when

he’dchauffeuredLizandEmmaandmetosafety.Irememberedhowhe’dscaredawayNekhbetandBabiinhisridiculousSpeedo.IthoughtaboutthesillychocolateLeninheadhe’dboughtinSt.Petersburg,andhowhe’dpulledWaltandmetosafetyfromtheportalatRedSands.Icouldn’tthinkofhimassmall.Hehadanenormous,colorful,ludicrous,wonderfulpersonality—anditseemedimpossiblethatitwasgoneforever.He’dgivenhisimmortallifetobuyusoneextrahour.

I couldn’t help sobbing. FinallyCarter had to pullme away. I don’t remember howwe got backhome, but I remember feeling as ifwewere falling rather than ascending—as if themortalworldhadbecomeadeeperandsadderplacethananywhereintheDuat.

That evening I sat alone on my bed with the windows open. The first night of spring had turnedsurprisingly warm and pleasant. Lights glittered along the riverfront. The neighborhood bagel factoryfilledtheairwiththescentofbakingbread.Iwaslisteningtomysadplaylistandwonderinghowitwaspossiblethatmybirthdayhadbeenonlyafewdaysago.

Theworldhadchanged.Thesungodhadreturned.Apophiswas free fromhiscage,andalthoughhe’dbeenbanishedtosomedeeppartoftheabyss,he’dbeworkinghiswaybackveryquickly.Warwascoming.Wehadsomuchworktodo.YetIwassittinghere,listeningtothesamesongsasbefore,staringatmyposterofAnubisandfeelinghelplesslyconflictedaboutsomethingas trivialandinfuriatingas…yes,youguessedit.Boys.

Therewasaknockatthedoor.“Comein,”Isaidwithoutmuchenthusiasm.IassumeditwasCarter.Weoftenchattedattheendof

theday,justtodebrief.Instead,itwasWalt,andsuddenlyIwasveryawarethatIwaswearingarattyoldT-shirtandpajamabottoms.Myhairnodoubt lookedashorribleasNekhbet’s.Carter’sseeingmethiswaywouldn’tbeaproblem.ButWalt?Bad.

“Whatareyoudoinghere?”Iyelped,abittooloudly.Heblinked,obviouslysurprisedbymylackofhospitality.“Sorry,I’llgo.”“No!Imean…that’sallright.Youjustsurprisedme.And—youknow…wehaverulesaboutboys’

beinginthegirls’roomswithout,um,supervision.”Irealizethatsoundedterriblystodgyofme,almostCarteresque.ButIwasnervous.

Waltfoldedhisarms.Theywereverynicearms.Hewaswearinghisbasketballjerseyandrunningshorts,hisusualcollectionofamuletsaroundhisneck.Helookedsohealthy,soathletic,itwasdifficulttobelievehewasdyingofanancientcurse.

“Well,you’retheinstructor,”hesaid.“Canyousuperviseme?”NodoubtIwasblushinghorribly.“Right.Isupposeifyouleavethedoorajar…Er,whatbringsyou

here?”Heleanedagainsttheclosetdoor.Withsomehorror,Irealizeditwasstillopen,revealingmyposter

ofAnubis.“There’s so much going on,” Walt said. “You’ve got enough to worry about. I don’t want you

worryingaboutmeaswell.”“Toolate,”Iadmitted.Henodded,asifhesharedmyfrustration.“Thatdayinthedesert,atBahariya…wouldyouthinkI’m

crazyifItellyouthatwasthebestdayofmylife?”Myheartfluttered,butItriedtostaycalm.“Well,Egyptianpublictransportation,roadsidebandits,

smellycamels,psychoticRomanmummies,andpossesseddatefarmers…Gosh,itwasquiteaday.”“Andyou,”hesaid.“Yes,well…IsupposeIbelonginthatlistofcatastrophes.”“That’snotwhatImeant.”Iwas feeling likequite abad supervisor—nervousandconfused, andhavingveryun-supervisory

thoughts.Myeyesstrayedtotheclosetdoor.Waltnoticed.“Oh.”HepointedtoAnubis.“Youwantmetoclosethis?”“Yes,”Isaid.“No.Possibly.Imean,itdoesn’tmatter.Well,notthatitdoesn’tmatter,but—”Walt laughed as if my discomfort didn’t bother him at all. “Sadie, look. I just wanted to say,

whateverhappens, I’mglad Imetyou. I’mglad I came toBrooklyn. Jaz isworkingon a cure forme.Maybeshe’llfindsomething,buteitherway…it’sokay.”

“It’snotokay!”Ithinkmyangersurprisedmemorethanitdidhim.“Walt,you’redyingofabloodycurse.And—andIhadMenshikovrightthere,readytotellmethecure,and…Ifailedyou.LikeIfailedBes.Ididn’tevenbringbackRaproperly.”

Iwasfuriouswithmyselfforcrying,butIcouldn’thelpit.Waltcameoverandsatnexttome.Hedidn’ttrytoputhisarmaroundme,whichwasjustaswell.Iwasalreadyconfusedenough.

“You didn’t fail me,” he said. “You didn’t fail anybody. You did what was right, and that takessacrifice.”

“Notyou,”Isaid.“Idon’twantyoutodie.”Hissmilemademefeelasiftheworldhadbeenreducedtojusttwopeople.“Ra’sreturnmaynothavecuredme,”hesaid,“butitstillgavemenewhope.You’reamazing,Sadie.

Onewayoranother,we’regoingtomakethiswork.I’mnotleavingyou.”Thatsoundedsogood,soexcellent,andsoimpossible.“Howcanyoupromisethat?”HeeyesdriftedtothepictureofAnubis,thenbacktome.“Justtrynottoworryaboutme.Wehaveto

concentrateondefeatingApophis.”“Anyideahow?”Hegestured towardmybedside table,wheremybeaten-upold tape recorder sat—agift frommy

grandparentsagesago.“Tellpeoplewhatreallyhappened,”hesaid.“Don’tletJacobiandtheothersspreadliesaboutyour

family.IcametoBrooklynbecauseIgotyourfirstmessage—therecordingabout theRedPyramid, thedjedamulet.Youaskedforhelp,andweanswered.It’stimetoaskforhelpagain.”

“Buthowmanymagiciansdidwereallyreachthefirsttime—twenty?”“Hey,wedidprettywell lastnight.”Waltheldmyeyes.I thoughthemightkissme,butsomething

madeusbothhesitate—asense that itwouldonlymake thingsmoreuncertain,more fragile. “Sendoutanother tape,Sadie. Just tell the truth.Whenyou talk…”He shrugged, and then stood to leave. “Well,you’reprettyhardtoignore.”

Afewmomentsafterheleft,Cartercamein,abooktuckedunderhisarm.Hefoundmelisteningtomysadmusic,staringatthetaperecorderonthedresser.

“WasthatWaltcomingoutofyourroom?”heasked.Alittlebrotherlyprotectivenesscreptintohisvoice.“What’sup?”

“Oh, just…”My eyes fixed on the book he was carrying. It was a tattered old textbook, and Iwonderedifhemeanttoassignmesomesortofhomework.Butthecoverlookedsofamiliar:thediamonddesign,themulticoloredfoilletters.“Whatisthat?”

Cartersatnexttome.Nervously,heofferedmethebook.“It’s,um…notagoldnecklace.Orevenamagicknife.ButItoldyouIhadabirthdaypresentforyou.This—thisisit.”

I ranmy fingersover the title:Blackley’sSurveyof theSciences forFirst-YearCollege,TwelfthEdition.ThenIopenedthebook.Ontheinsidecover,anamewaswritteninlovelycursive:RubyKane.

ItwasMum’scollegetextbook—thesameonesheusedtoreadtousfromatbedtime.Theverysamecopy.

Iblinkedbacktears.“Howdidyou—”“Theretrievalshabtiin the library,”Cartersaid.“Theycanfindanybook. Iknowit’s…kindofa

lamepresent.Itdidn’tcostmeanything,andIdidn’tmakeit,but—”“Shutup,youidiot!”Iflungmyarmsaroundhim.“It’sanamazingbirthdaypresent.Andyou’rean

amazingbrother!”[Fine,Carter.There it is, recorded forall time. Justdon’tgetabighead. I spoke inamomentof

weakness.]We turned the pages, smiling at the crayonmustacheCarter had drawn on IsaacNewton and the

outdateddiagramsof thesolar system.Wefoundanold foodstain thatwasprobablymyapplesauce. Ilovedapplesauce.WeranourhandsoverthemarginnotesdoneinMum’sbeautifulcursive.

Ifeltclosertomymotherjustholdingthebook,andamazedbyCarter’sthoughtfulness.EventhoughI’d learned his secret name and supposed I knew everything about him, the boy had still managed tosurpriseme.

“So,whatweresayingaboutWalt?”heasked.“What’sgoingon?”Reluctantly,IclosedBlackley’sSurveyoftheSciences.Andyes,that’sprobablytheonlytimeinmy

lifeI’deverclosedatextbookwithreluctance.Iroseandsetthebookonmydresser.ThenIpickedupmyoldcassetterecorder.

“Wehaveworktodo,”ItoldCarter.Itossedhimthemicrophone.

Sonowyouknowwhatreallyhappenedontheequinox,howtheoldChiefLectordied,andhowAmostookhisplace.Desjardinssacrificedhislifetobuyustime,butApophisisquicklyworkinghiswayoutoftheabyss.Wemayhaveweeks,ifwe’relucky.Days,ifwe’renot.

AmosistryingtoasserthimselfastheleaderoftheHouseofLife,butit’snotgoingtobeeasy.Somenomesareinrebellion.ManybelievetheKaneshavetakenoverbyforce.

We’resendingoutthistapetosettherecordstraight.Wedon’thaveall theanswersyet.Wedon’tknowwhenorwhereApophiswill strike.Wedon’t

knowhowtohealRa,orBes,orevenWalt.Wedon’tknowwhatroleZiawillplay,orifthegodscanbetrustedtohelpus.Mostimportant,Iamcompletelytornbetweentwoamazingguys—onewho’sdyingandanotherwho’sthegodofdeath.Whatsortofchoiceisthat,Iaskyou?

[Right,sorry…gettingofftrackagain.]Thepointis,whereveryouare,whatevertypeofmagicyoupractice,weneedyourhelp.Unlesswe

uniteandlearnthepathofthegodsquickly,wedon’tstandachance.IhopeWaltisrightandyou’llfindmehardtoignore,becausetheclockisticking.We’llkeeparoom

readyforyouatBrooklynHouse.

AUTHOR’SNOTE

Beforepublishing suchanalarming transcript, I felt compelled todo some fact-checkingonSadie andCarter’s story. Iwish I could tellyou theyhadmadeall thisup.Unfortunately, it appears thatmuchofwhattheyhavereportedisbasedonfact.

TheEgyptian relics and locations theymention inAmerica, England,Russia, andEgypt do exist.PrinceMenshikov’sPalaceinSt.Petersburgisreal,andthestoryofthedwarfweddingistrue,thoughIcan findnomention that oneof thedwarvesmighthavebeenagod,or that theprincehadagrandsonnamedVladimir.

All theEgyptiangodsandmonstersCarterandSadiemetareattested to inancientsources.Manydifferent accounts survive ofRa’s nightly journey through theDuat, andwhile the stories varygreatly,CarterandSadie’saccountcloselyfitswhatweknowfromEgyptianmythology.

Inshort,Ibelievetheymightbetellingthetruth.Theircallforhelpisgenuine.Shouldfurtheraudiorecordings fall intomyhands, Iwill relay the information;but ifApophis truly is rising, theremaynoopportunity.Forthesakeoftheentireworld,IhopeI’mwrong.

GLOSSARY

CommandsusedbyCarterandSadie

A’max“Burn”

Ha-di“Destroy”

Ha-tep“Beatpeace”

Heh-sieh“Turnback”

HeqatSummonsastaff

Hi-nehm“Join”

L’mun“Hide”

N’dah“Protect”

Sa-per“Miss”

W’peh“Open”

OtherEgyptianTerms

AarutheEgyptianafterlife,paradiseAtenthesun(thephysicalobject,notthegod)BasoulBarquethepharaoh’sboatBauanevilspiritDuatmagicalrealmHieroglyphicsthewritingsystemofAncientEgypt,whichusedsymbolsorpicturestodenoteobjects,concepts,orsoundsKhopeshaswordwithahook-shapedbladeMa’atorderof theuniverseMenhed the scribe’s paletteNetjeri blade a knifemade frommeteoric iron for the opening of themouth in a ceremonyPharaoh a ruler of Ancient Egypt Ren name, identity Sarcophagus a stone coffin, oftendecoratedwithsculptureandinscriptionsSauacharmmakerScarabbeetleShabtiamagicalfigurinemade out of clayShen eternalSoukopen airmarketStele limestone gravemarkerTjesuheruasnakewithtwoheads—oneonitstail—anddragonlegsTyetthesymbolofIsisWaspower

EGYPTIANGODSANDGODDESSESMENTIONEDINTHETHRONEOFFIRE

AnubisthegodoffuneralsanddeathApophisthegodofchaosBabithebaboongodBastthecatgoddessBesthedwarfgodGebtheearthgodHeketthefroggoddessHorusthewargod,sonofIsisandOsirisIsisthegoddessofmagic,wifeofherbrotherOsirisand

motherofHorusKheprithescarabgod,Ra’saspectinthemorningKhnumtheram-headedgod,Ra’saspectatsunsetintheunderworldKhonsuthemoongod

Mekhitminor lion goddess,married toOnurisNekhbet the vulture goddessNephthys the rivergoddessNuttheskygoddess

Osiris the god of the underworld, husband of his sister Isis and father ofHorusPtah the god ofcraftsmenRathesungod,thegodoforder.AlsoknownasAmun-Ra.

SekhmettheliongoddessSetthegodofevilShutheairgodSobekthecrocodilegodTawaretthehippogoddessThoththegodofknowledge