Up in the loft, the strumming stopped. A lanky man in his twenties stood up, electric guitar in hand. He had an unruly mane of blond hair like Khufu’s, and he wore a stained white lab coat over faded jeans and a black T-shirt. At first I thought blood was trickling from the corner of his mouth. Then I realized it was some sort of meat sauce.
“Fascinating.” He broke into a wide grin. “I’ve discovered something, Khufu. This is not Memphis, Egypt.”
Khufu gave me a sideways look, and I could swear his expression meant, Duh.
“I’ve also discovered a new form of magic called blues music,” the man continued. “And barbecue. Yes, you must try barbecue.”
Khufu looked unimpressed. He climbed to the top of a bookshelf, grabbed a box of Cheerios, and began to munch.
The guitar man slid down the banister with perfect balance and landed in front of us. “Isis and Horus,” he said. “I see you’ve found new bodies.”
His eyes were a dozen colors, shifting like a kaleidoscope, with hypnotic effect.
I managed to stutter, “Um, we’re not—”
“Oh, I see,” he said. “Trying to share the body, eh? Don’t think I’m fooled for a minute, Isis. I know you’re in charge.”
“But she’s not!” I protested. “My name is Sadie Kane. I assume you’re Thoth?”
He raised an eyebrow. “You claim not to know me? Of course I’m Thoth. Also called Djehuti. Also called—”
I stifled a laugh. “Ja-hooty?”
Thoth looked offended. “In Ancient Egyptian, it’s a perfectly fine name. The Greeks called me Thoth. Then later they confused me with their god Hermes. Even had the nerve to rename my sacred city Hermopolis, though we’re nothing alike. Believe me, if you’ve ever met Hermes—”
“Agh!” Khufu yelled through a mouthful of Cheerios.
“You’re right,” Thoth agreed. “I’m getting off track. So you claim to be Sadie Kane. And...” He swung a finger toward Carter, who was watching the ibises type on their laptops. “I suppose you’re not Horus.”
“Carter Kane,” said Carter, still distracted by the ibises’ screens. “What is that?”
Thoth brightened. “Yes, they’re called computers. Marvelous, aren’t they? Apparently—”
“No, I mean what are the birds typing?” Carter squinted and read from the screen. “‘A Short Treatise on the Evolution of Yaks’?”
“My scholarly essays,” Thoth explained. “I try to keep several projects going at once. For instance, did you know this university does not offer majors in astrology or leechcraft? Shocking! I intend to change that. I’m renovating new headquarters right
now down by the river. Soon Memphis will be a true center of learning!”
“That’s brilliant,” I said halfheartedly. “We need help defeating Set.”
The ibises stopped typing and stared at me.
Thoth wiped the barbecue sauce off his mouth. “You have the nerve to ask this after last time?”
“Last time?” I repeated.
“I have the account here somewhere....” Thoth patted the pockets of his lab coat. He pulled out a rumpled piece of paper and read it. “No, grocery list.”
He tossed it over his shoulder. As soon as the paper hit the floor, it became a loaf of wheat bread, a jug of milk, and a six-pack of Mountain Dew.
Thoth checked his sleeves. I realized the stains on his coat were smeared words, printed in every language. The stains moved and changed, forming hieroglyphs, English letters, Demotic symbols. He brushed a stain off his lapel and seven letters fluttered to the floor, forming a word: crawdad. The word morphed into a slimy crustacean, like a shrimp, which wiggled its legs for only a moment before an ibis snapped it up.
“Ah, never mind,” Thoth said at last. “I’ll just tell you the short version: To avenge his father, Osiris, Horus challenged Set to a duel. The winner would become king of the gods.”
“Horus won,” Carter said.
“You do remember!”