The Red Pyramid

28. I Have a Date with the God of Toilet Paper

BAST HAD AN INTERESTING DEFINITION of interesting: a boiling lake several miles wide that smelled like burning petrol and rotten meat. Our steamboat stopped short where the river met the lake, because a giant metal gate blocked our path. It was a bronze disk like a shield, easily as wide as our boat, half submerged in the river. I wasn’t sure how it avoided melting in the heat, but it made going forward impossible. On either bank of the river, facing the disk, was a giant bronze baboon with its arms raised.

“What is this?” I asked.

“The Gates of the West,” Bast said. “Ra’s sunboat would pass through and be renewed in the fires of the lake, then pass through to the other side and rise through the Gates of the East for a new day.”

Looking up at the huge baboons, I wondered if Khufu had some sort of secret baboon code that would get us in. But instead he barked at the statues and cowered heroically behind my legs.

“How do we get past?” I wondered.

“Perhaps,” a new voice said, “you should ask me.”

The air shimmered. Carter backed up quickly, and Bast hissed.

In front of me appeared a glowing bird spirit: a ba. It had the usual combination of human head and killer turkey body, with its wings tucked back and its entire form glowing, but something about this ba was different. I realized I knew the spirit’s face-an old bald man with brown, papery skin, milky eyes, and a kindly smile.

“Iskandar?” I managed.

“Hello, my dear.” The old magician’s voice echoed as if from the bottom of a well.

“But…” I found myself tearing up. “You’re really dead, then?”

He chuckled. “Last I checked.”

“But why? I didn’t make you-”

“No, my dear. It wasn’t your fault. It was simply the right time.”

“It was horrible timing!” My surprise and sadness abruptly turned to anger. “You left us before we got trained or anything, and now Desjardins is after us and-”

“My dear, look how far you’ve come. Look how well you have done. You didn’t need me, nor would more training have helped. My brethren would have found out the truth about you soon enough. They are excellent at sniffing out godlings, I fear, and they would not have understood.”

“You knew, didn’t you? You knew we were possessed by gods.”

“Hosts of the gods.”

“Whatever! You knew.”

“After our second meeting, yes. My only regret is that I did not realize it sooner. I could not protect you and your brother as much as-”

“As much as who?”

Iskandar’s eyes became sad and distant. “I made choices, Sadie. Some seemed wise at the time. Some, in retrospect…”

“Your decision to forbid the gods. My mum convinced you it was a bad idea, didn’t she?”

His spectral wings fluttered. “You must understand, Sadie. When Egypt fell to the Romans, my spirit was crushed. Thousands of years of Egyptian power and tradition toppled by that foolish Queen Cleopatra, who thought she could host a goddess. The blood of the pharaohs seemed weak and diluted-lost forever. At the time I blamed everyone-the gods who used men to act out their petty quarrels, the Ptolemaic rulers who had driven Egypt into the ground, my own brethren in the House for becoming weak and greedy and corrupt. I communed with Thoth, and we agreed: the gods must be put away, banished. The magicians must find their way without them. The new rules kept the House of Life intact for another two thousand years. At the time, it was the right choice.”

“And now?” I asked.

Iskandar’s glow dimmed. “Your mother foresaw a great imbalance. She foresaw the day-very soon-when Ma’at would be destroyed, and chaos would reclaim all of Creation. She insisted that only the gods and the House together could prevail. The old way-the path of the gods-would have to be reestablished. I was a foolish old man. I knew in my heart she was right, but I refused to believe…and your parents took it upon themselves to act. They sacrificed themselves trying to put things right, because I was too stubborn to change. For that, I am truly sorry.”

As much as I tried, I found it hard to stay angry at the old turkey. It’s a rare thing when an adult admits they are wrong to a child-especially a wise, two-thousand-year-old adult. You rather have to cherish those moments.

“I forgive you, Iskandar,” I said. “Honestly. But Set is about to destroy North America with a giant red pyramid. What do I do about it?”

“That, my dear, I can’t answer. Your choice…” He tilted his head back toward the lake, as if hearing a voice. “Our time is at an end. I must do my job as gatekeeper, and decide whether or not to grant you access to the Lake of Fire.”

“But I’ve got more questions!”

“And I wish we had more time,” Iskandar said. “You have a strong spirit, Sadie Kane. Someday, you will make an excellent guardian ba.”

“Thanks,” I muttered. “Can’t wait to be poultry forever.”

“I can only tell you this: your choice approaches. Don’t let your feelings blind you to what is best, as I did.”

“What choice? Best for whom?”

“That’s the key, isn’t it? Your father-your family-the gods-the world. Ma’at and Isfet, order and chaos, are about to collide more violently than they have in eons. You and your brother will be instrumental in balancing those forces, or destroying everything. That, also, your mother foresaw.”

“Hang on. What do you-”

“Until we meet again, Sadie. Perhaps some day, we will have a chance to talk further. But for now, pass through! My job is to assess your courage-and you have that in abundance.”

I wanted to argue that no, in fact, I didn’t. I wanted Iskandar to stay and tell me exactly what my mother had foreseen in my future. But his spirit faded, leaving the deck quiet and still. Only then did I realize that no one else on board had said a thing.

I turned to face Carter. “Leave everything to me, eh?”

He was staring into space, not even blinking. Khufu still clung to my legs, absolutely petrified. Bast’s face was frozen in mid-hiss.

“Um, guys?” I snapped my fingers, and they all unfroze.

“Ba!” Bast hissed. Then she looked around and scowled. “Wait, I thought I saw…what just happened?”

I wondered how powerful a magician had to be to stop time, to freeze even a goddess. Some day, Iskandar was going to teach me that trick, dead or no.

“Yeah,” I said. “I reckon there was a ba. Gone now.”

The baboon statues began to rumble and grind as their arms lowered. The bronze sun disk in the middle of the river sank below the surface, clearing the way into the lake. The boat shot forward, straight into the flames and the boiling red waves. Through the shimmering heat, I could just make out an island in the middle of the lake. On it rose a glittering black temple that looked not at all friendly.

“The Hall of Judgment,” I guessed.

Bast nodded. “Times like this, I’m glad I don’t have a mortal soul.”

As we docked at the island, Bloodstained Blade came down to say good-bye.

“I hope to see you again, Lord and Lady Kane,” he hummed. “Your rooms will be waiting aboard the Egyptian Queen. Unless, of course, you see fit to release me from service.”

Behind his back, Bast shook her head adamantly.

“Um, we’ll keep you around,” I told the captain. “Thanks for everything.”

“As you wish,” the captain said. If axes could frown, I’m sure he would have.

“Stay sharp,” Carter told him, and with Bast and Khufu, we walked down the gangplank. Instead of pulling away, the ship simply sank into the boiling lava and disappeared.

I scowled at Carter. “‘Stay sharp?’”

“I thought it was funny.”

“You’re hopeless.”

We walked up the steps of the black temple. A forest of stone pillars held up the ceiling. Every surface was carved with hieroglyphs and images, but there was no color-just black on black. Haze from the lake drifted through the temple, and despite reed torches that burned on each pillar, it was impossible to see very far through the gloom.

“Stay alert,” Bast warned, sniffing the air. “He’s close.”

“Who?” I asked.

“The Dog,” Bast said with disdain.

There was a snarling noise, and a huge black shape leaped out of the mist. It tackled Bast, who rolled over and wailed in feline outrage, then raced off, leaving us alone with the beast. I suppose she had warned us that she wasn’t brave.

The new animal was sleek and black, like the Set animal we’d seen in Washington, D.C., but more obviously canine, graceful and rather cute, actually. A jackal, I realized, with a golden collar around its neck.

Then it morphed into a young man, and my heart almost stopped. He was the boy from my dreams, quite literally-the guy in black I’d seen twice before in my ba visions.

In person, if possible, Anubis was even more drop-dead gorgeous. [Oh…ha, ha. I didn’t catch the pun, but thank you, Carter. God of the dead, drop-dead gorgeous. Yes, hilarious. Now, may I continue?]

He had a pale complexion, tousled black hair, and rich brown eyes like melted chocolate. He was dressed in black jeans, combat boots (like mine!), a ripped T-shirt, and a black leather jacket that suited him quite nicely. He was long and lean like a jackal. His ears, like a jackal’s, stuck out a bit (which I found cute), and he wore a gold chain around his neck.

Now, please understand, I am not boy crazy. I’m not! I’d spent most of the school term making fun of Liz and Emma, who were, and I was very glad they weren’t with me just then, because they would’ve teased me to no end.

The boy in black stood and brushed off his jacket. “I’m not a dog,” he grumbled.

“No,” I agreed. “You’re…”

No doubt I would’ve said delicious or something equally embarrassing, but Carter saved me.

“You’re Anubis?” he asked. “We’ve come for the feather of truth.”

Anubis frowned. He locked his very nice eyes with mine. “You’re not dead.”

“No,” I said. “Though we’re trying awfully hard.”

“I don’t deal with the living,” he said firmly. Then he looked at Khufu and Carter. “However, you travel with a baboon. That shows good taste. I won’t kill you until you’ve had a chance to explain. Why did Bast bring you here?”

“Actually,” Carter said, “Thoth sent us.”

Carter started to tell him the story, but Khufu broke in impatiently. “Agh! Agh!”

Baboon-speak must have been quite efficient, because Anubis nodded as if he’d just gotten the whole tale. “I see.”

He scowled at Carter. “So you’re Horus. And you’re…” His finger drifted towards me.

“I’m-I’m, um-” I stammered. Quite unlike me to be tongue-tied, I’ll admit, but looking at Anubis, I felt as if I’d just gotten a large shot of Novocain from the dentist. Carter looked at me as if I’d gone daft.

“I’m not Isis,” I managed. “I mean, Isis is milling about inside, but I’m not her. She’s just…visiting.”

Anubis tilted his head. “And the two of you intend to challenge Set?”

“That’s the general idea,” Carter agreed. “Will you help?”

Anubis glowered. I remembered Thoth saying Anubis was only in a good mood once an eon or so. I had the feeling this was not one of those days.

“No,” he said flatly. “I’ll show you why.”

He turned into a jackal and sped back the way he’d come. Carter and I exchanged looks. Not knowing what else to do, we ran after Anubis, deeper into the gloom.

In the center of the temple was a large circular chamber that seemed to be two places at once. On the one hand, it was a great hall with blazing braziers and an empty throne at the far end. The center of the room was dominated by a set of scales-a black iron T with ropes linked to two golden dishes, each big enough to hold a person-but the scales were broken. One of the golden dishes was bent into a V, as if something very heavy had jumped up and down on it. The other dish was hanging by a single rope.

Curled at the base of the scales, fast asleep, was the oddest monster I’d seen yet. It had the head of crocodile with a lion’s mane. The front half of its body was lion, but the back end was sleek, brown, and fat-a hippo, I decided. The odd bit was, the animal was tiny-I mean, no larger than an average poodle, which I suppose made him a hippodoodle.

So that was the hall, at least one layer of it. But at the same time, I seemed to be standing in a ghostly graveyard-like a three-dimensional projection superimposed on the room. In some places, the marble floor gave way to patches of mud and moss-covered paving stones. Lines of aboveground tombs like miniature row houses radiated from the center of the chamber in a wheel-spokes pattern. Many of the tombs had cracked open. Some were bricked up, others ringed with iron fences. Around the edges of the chamber, the black pillars shifted form, sometimes changing into ancient cypress trees. I felt as if I were stepping between two different worlds, and I couldn’t tell which one was real.

Khufu loped straight over to the broken scales and climbed to the top, making himself right at home. He paid no attention to the hippodoodle.

The jackal trotted to the steps of the throne and changed back into Anubis.

“Welcome,” he said, “to the last room you will ever see.”

Carter looked around in awe. “The Hall of Judgment.” He focused on the hippodoodle and frowned. “Is that…”

“Ammit the Devourer,” Anubis said. “Look upon him and tremble.”

Ammit apparently heard his name in his sleep. He made a yipping sound and turned on his back. His lion and hippo legs twitched. I wondered if netherworld monsters dreamed of chasing rabbits.

“I always pictured him…bigger,” Carter admitted.

Anubis gave Carter a harsh look. “Ammit only has to be big enough to eat the hearts of the wicked. Trust me, he does his job well. Or…he did it well, anyway.”

Up on the scales, Khufu grunted. He almost lost his balance on the central beam, and the dented saucer clanged against the floor.

“Why are the scales broken?” I asked.

Anubis frowned. “Ma’at is weakening. I’ve tried to fix them, but…” He spread his hands helplessly.

I pointed to the ghostly rows of tombs. “Is that why the, ah, graveyard is butting in?”

Carter looked at me strangely. “What graveyard?”

“The tombs,” I said. “The trees.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He can’t see them,” Anubis said. “But you, Sadie-you’re perceptive. What do you hear?”

At first I didn’t know what he meant. All I heard was the blood rushing through my ears, and the distant rumble and crackle of the Lake of Fire. (And Khufu scratching himself and grunting, but that was nothing new.)

Then I closed my eyes, and I heard another distant sound-music that triggered my earliest memories, my father smiling as he danced me round our house in Los Angeles.

“Jazz,” I said.

I opened my eyes, and the Hall of Judgment was gone. Or not gone, but faded. I could still see the broken scales and the empty throne. But no black columns, no roar of fire. Even Carter, Khufu, and Ammit had disappeared.

The cemetery was very real. Cracked paving stones wobbled under my feet. The humid night air smelled of spices and fish stew and old mildewed places. I might’ve been back in England-a churchyard in some corner of London, perhaps-but the writing on the graves was in French, and the air was much too mild for an English winter. The trees hung low and lush, covered with Spanish moss.

And there was music. Just outside the cemetery’s fence, a jazz band paraded down the street in somber black suits and brightly colored party hats. Saxophonists bobbed up and down. Cornets and clarinets wailed. Drummers grinned and swayed, their sticks flashing. And behind them, carrying flowers and torches, a crowd of revelers in funeral clothes danced round an old-fashioned black hearse as it drove along.

“Where are we?” I said, marveling.

Anubis jumped from the top of a tomb and landed next to me. He breathed in the graveyard air, and his features relaxed. I found myself studying his mouth, the curve of his lower lip.

“New Orleans,” he said.

“Sorry?”

“The Drowned City,” he said. “In the French Quarter, on the west side of the river-the shore of the dead. I love it here. That’s why the Hall of Judgment often connects to this part of the mortal world.”

The jazz procession made its way down the street, drawing more onlookers into the party.

“What are they celebrating?”

“A funeral,” Anubis said. “They’ve just put the deceased in his tomb. Now they’re ‘cutting the body loose.’ The mourners celebrate the dead one’s life with song and dance as they escort the empty hearse away from the cemetery. Very Egyptian, this ritual.”

“How do you know so much?”

“I’m the god of funerals. I know every death custom in the world-how to die properly, how to prepare the body and soul for the afterlife. I live for death.”

“You must be fun at parties,” I said. “Why have you brought me here?”

“To talk.” He spread his hands, and the nearest tomb rumbled. A long white ribbon shot out of a crack in the wall. The ribbon just kept coming, weaving itself into some kind of shape next to Anubis, and my first thought was, My god, he’s got a magic roll of toilet paper.

Then I realized it was cloth, a length of white linen wrappings-mummy wrappings. The cloth twisted itself into the form of a bench, and Anubis sat down.

“I don’t like Horus.” He gestured for me to join him. “He’s loud and arrogant and thinks he’s better than me. But Isis always treated me like a son.”

I crossed my arms. “You’re not my son. And I told you I’m not Isis.”

Anubis tilted his head. “No. You don’t act like a godling. You remind me of your mother.”

That hit me like a bucket of cold water (and sadly, I knew exactly what that felt like, thanks to Zia). “You’ve met my mother?”

Anubis blinked, as if realizing he’d done something wrong. “I-I know all the dead, but each spirit’s path is secret. I should not have spoken.”

“You can’t just say something like that and then clam up! Is she in the Egyptian afterlife? Did she pass your little Hall of Judgment?”

Anubis glanced uneasily at the golden scales, which shimmered like a mirage in the graveyard. “It is not my hall. I merely oversee it until Lord Osiris returns. I’m sorry if I upset you, but I can’t say anything more. I don’t know why I said anything at all. It’s just…your soul has a similar glow. A strong glow.”

“How flattering,” I grumbled. “My soul glows.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “Please, sit.”

I had no interest in letting the matter drop, or sitting with him on a bunch of mummy wrappings, but my direct approach to information gathering didn’t seem to be working. I plopped down on the bench and tried to look as annoyed as possible.

“So.” I gave him a sulky glare. “What’s that form, then? Are you a godling?”

He frowned and put his hand to his chest. “You mean, am I inhabiting a human body? No, I can inhabit any graveyard, any place of death or mourning. This is my natural appearance.”

“Oh.” Part of me had hoped there was an actual boy sitting next to me-someone who just happened to be hosting a god. But I should’ve known that was too good to be true. I felt disappointed. Then I felt angry with myself for feeling disappointed.

It’s not like there was any potential, Sadie, I chided myself. He’s the bloody god of funerals. He’s like five thousand years old.

“So,” I said, “if you can’t tell me anything useful, at least help me. We need a feather of truth.”

He shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re asking. The feather of truth is too dangerous. Giving it to a mortal would be against the rules of Osiris.”

“But Osiris isn’t here.” I pointed at the empty throne. “That’s his seat, isn’t it? Do you see Osiris?”

Anubis eyed the throne. He ran his fingers along his gold chain as if it were getting tighter. “It’s true that I’ve waited here for ages, keeping my station. I was not imprisoned like the rest. I don’t know why…but I did the best I could. When I heard the five had been released, I hoped Lord Osiris would return, but…” He shook his head dejectedly. “Why would he neglect his duties?”

“Probably because he’s trapped inside my dad.”

Anubis stared at me. “The baboon did not explain this.”

“Well, I can’t explain as well as a baboon. But basically my dad wanted to release some gods for reasons I don’t quite…Maybe he thought, I’ll just pop down to the British Museum and blow up the Rosetta Stone! And he released Osiris, but he also got Set and the rest of that lot.”

“So Set imprisoned your father while he was hosting Osiris,” Anubis said, “which means Osiris has also been trapped by my-” He stopped himself. “By Set.”

Interesting, I thought.

“You understand, then,” I said. “You’ve got to help us.”

Anubis hesitated, then shook his head. “I can’t. I’ll get in trouble.”

I just stared at him and laughed. I couldn’t help it, he sounded so ridiculous. “You’ll get in trouble? How old are you, sixteen? You’re a god!”

It was hard to tell in the dark, but I could swear he blushed. “You don’t understand. The feather cannot abide the smallest lie. If I gave it to you, and you spoke a single untruth while you carried it, or acted in a way that was not truthful, you would burn to ashes.”

“You’re assuming I’m a liar.”

He blinked. “No, I simply-”

“You’ve never told a lie? What were you about to say just now-about Set? He’s your father, I’m guessing. Is that it?”

Anubis closed his mouth, then opened it again. He looked as if he wanted to get angry but couldn’t quite remember how. “Are you always this infuriating?”

“Usually more,” I admitted.

“Why hasn’t your family married you off to someone far, far away?”

He asked as if it were an honest question, and now it was my turn to be flabbergasted. “Excuse me, death boy! But I’m twelve! Well…almost thirteen, and a very mature almost thirteen, but that’s not the point. We don’t ‘marry off’ girls in my family, and you may know everything about funerals, but apparently you aren’t very up to speed on courtship rituals!”

Anubis looked mystified. “Apparently not.”

“Right! Wait-what were we talking about? Oh, thought you could distract me, eh? I remember. Set’s your father, yes? Tell the truth.”

Anubis gazed across the graveyard. The sound of the jazz funeral was fading into the streets of the French Quarter.

“Yes,” he said. “At least, that’s what the legends say. I’ve never met him. My mother, Nephthys, gave me to Osiris when I was a child.”

“She…gave you away?”

“She said she didn’t want me to know my father. But in truth, I’m not sure she knew what to do with me. I wasn’t like my cousin Horus. I wasn’t a warrior. I was a…different child.”

He sounded so bitter, I didn’t know what to say. I mean, I’d asked for the truth, but usually you don’t actually get it, especially from guys. I also knew something about being the different child-and feeling like my parents had given me away.

“Maybe your mum was trying to protect you,” I said. “Your dad being Lord of Evil, and all.”

“Maybe,” he said halfheartedly. “Osiris took me under his wing. He made me the Lord of Funerals, the Keeper of the Ways of Death. It’s a good job, but…you asked how old I am. The truth is I don’t know. Years don’t pass in the Land of the Dead. I still feel quite young, but the world has gotten old around me. And Osiris has been gone so long…He’s the only family I had.”

Looking at Anubis in the dim light of the graveyard, I saw a lonely teenage guy. I tried to remind myself that he was a god, thousands of years old, probably able to control vast powers well beyond magic toilet paper, but I still felt sorry for him.

“Help us rescue my dad,” I said. “We’ll send Set back to the Duat, and Osiris will be free. We’ll all be happy.”

Anubis shook his head again. “I told you-”

“Your scales are broken,” I noticed. “That’s because Osiris isn’t here, I’m guessing. What happens to all the souls that come for judgment?”

I knew I’d hit a nerve. Anubis shifted uncomfortably on the bench. “It increases chaos. The souls become confused. Some cannot go to the afterlife. Some manage, but they must find other ways. I try to help, but…the Hall of Judgment is also called the Hall of Ma’at. It is meant to be the center of order, a stable foundation. Without Osiris, it is falling into disrepair, crumbling.”

“Then what are you waiting for? Give us the feather. Unless you’re afraid your dad will ground you.”

His eyes flashed with irritation. For a moment I thought he was planning my funeral, but he simply sighed in exasperation. “I do a ceremony called the opening of the mouth. It lets the soul of the dead person come forth. For you, Sadie Kane, I would invent a new ceremony: the closing of the mouth.”

“Ha, ha. Are you going to give me the feather or not?”

He opened his hand. There was a burst of light, and a glowing feather floated above his palm-a snowy plume like a writing quill. “For Osiris’s sake-but I will insist on several conditions. First, only you may handle it.”

“Well, of course. You don’t think I’d let Carter-”

“Also, you must listen to my mother, Nephthys. Khufu told me you were looking for her. If you manage to find her, listen to her.”

“Easy,” I said, though the request did leave me strangely uncomfortable. Why would Anubis ask something like that?

“And before you go,” Anubis continued, “you must answer three questions for me as you hold the feather of truth, to prove that you are honest.”

My mouth suddenly felt dry. “Um…what sort of questions?”

“Any that I want. And remember, the slightest lie will destroy you.”

“Give me the bloody feather.”

As he handed it to me, the feather stopped glowing, but it felt warmer and heavier than a feather should.

“It’s the tail feather from a bennu,” Anubis explained, “what you’d call a phoenix. It weighs exactly the same as a human soul. Are you ready?”

“No,” I said, which must’ve been truthful, as I didn’t burn up. “Does that count as one question?”

Anubis actually smiled, which was quite dazzling. “I suppose it does. You bargain like a Phoenician sea trader, Sadie Kane. Second question, then: Would you give your life for your brother?”

“Yes,” I said immediately.

(I know. It surprised me too. But holding the feather forced me to be truthful. Obviously it didn’t make me any wiser.)

Anubis nodded, apparently not surprised. “Final question: If it means saving the world, are you prepared to lose your father?”

“That’s not a fair question!”

“Answer it honestly.”

How could I answer something like that? It wasn’t a simple yes/no.

Of course I knew the “right” answer. The heroine is supposed to refuse to sacrifice her father. Then she boldly goes off and saves her dad and the world, right? But what if it really was one or the other? The whole world was an awfully large place: Gran and Gramps, Carter, Uncle Amos, Bast, Khufu, Liz and Emma, everyone I’d ever known. What would my dad say if I chose him instead?

“If…if there really was no other way,” I said, “no other way at all- Oh, come off. It’s a ridiculous question.”

The feather began to glow.

“All right,” I relented. “If I had to, then I suppose…I suppose I would save the world.”

Horrible guilt crushed down on me. What kind of daughter was I? I clutched the tyet amulet on my necklace-my one remembrance of Dad. I know some of you lot will be thinking: You hardly ever saw your dad. You barely knew him. Why would you care so much?

But that didn’t make him any less my dad, did it? Or the thought of losing him forever any less horrible. And the thought of failing him, of willingly choosing to let him die even to save the world-what sort of awful person was I?

I could barely meet Anubis’s eyes, but when I did, his expression softened.

“I believe you, Sadie.”

“Oh, really. I’m holding the bloody feather of truth, and you believe me. Well, thanks.”

“The truth is harsh,” Anubis said. “Spirits come to the Hall of Judgment all the time, and they cannot let go of their lies. They deny their faults, their true feelings, their mistakes…right up until Ammit devours their souls for eternity. It takes strength and courage to admit the truth.”

“Yeah. I feel so strong and courageous. Thanks.”

Anubis stood. “I should leave you now. You’re running out of time. In just over twenty-four hours, the sun will rise on Set’s birthday, and he will complete his pyramid-unless you stop him. Perhaps when next we meet-”

“You’ll be just as annoying?” I guessed.

He fixed me with those warm brown eyes. “Or perhaps you could bring me up to speed on modern courtship rituals.”

I sat there stunned until he gave me a glimpse of a smile-just enough to let me know he was teasing. Then he disappeared.

“Oh, very funny!” I yelled. The scales and the throne vanished. The linen bench unraveled and dumped me in the middle of the graveyard. Carter and Khufu appeared next to me, but I just kept yelling at the spot where Anubis had stood, calling him some choice names.

“What’s going on?” Carter demanded. “Where are we?”

“He’s horrible!” I growled. “Self-important, sarcastic, incredibly hot, insufferable-”

“Agh!” Khufu complained.

“Yeah,” Carter agreed. “Did you get the feather or not?”

I held out my hand, and there it was-a glowing white plume floating above my fingers. I closed my fist and it disappeared again.

“Whoa,” Carter said. “But what about Anubis? How did you-”

“Let’s find Bast and get out of here,” I interrupted. “We’ve got work to do.”

And I marched out of the graveyard before he could ask me more questions, because I was in no mood to tell the truth.

C A R T E R