He swerved to the right. Behind us, a storefront exploded. Looking back, I saw the entire wall dissolve into a pile of living snakes. Our pursuers were still closing.
“Bes, get us out of here!” I yelled.
“I’m trying, kid. Egyptian Bridge is coming up. It was originally built in the eighteen hundreds, but—”
“I don’t care! Just drive!”
Truly, it’s amazing how many Egyptian bits and bobs there are in St. Petersburg, and how little I cared about them. Being chased by evil magicians throwing javelins and snake bombs does tend to clarify one’s priorities.
Suffice it to say: Yes, there really is an Egyptian Bridge over the Fontanka River, leading south out of central St. Petersburg. Why? No idea. Don’t care. As we raced toward it, I saw black stone sphinxes on either side—lady sphinxes with gilded pharaoh crowns—but the only thing that mattered to me was that they could summon a portal.
Bes barked something in Egyptian. At the top of the bridge, blue light flashed. A swirling sand vortex appeared.
“What did Set mean,” I asked, “about holding my breath?”
“Hopefully won’t be for long,” Bes said. “We’ll only be thirty feet under.”
“Thirty feet under water?”
BANG! The Mercedes careened sideways. Only later did I realize another javelin must have hit our back tire. We spun across the ice and flipped, sliding upside-down into the vortex.
My head slammed against something. I opened my eyes, fighting for consciousness, but either I was blind or we were in complete darkness. I heard water trickling through the javelin-shattered glass, and the roof of the Mercedes crumpling like an aluminum can.
I had time to think: A teenager for less than a day, and I’m going to drown.
Then I blacked out.
S A D I E
12. I Master the Fine Art of Name-Calling
IT’S DISTURBING TO WAKE UP as a chicken.
My ba floated through dark water. My glowing wings flapped as I tried to figure out which way was up. I assumed my body was somewhere close by, possibly already drowned in the back of the Mercedes, but I couldn’t figure out how to return to it.
Why on earth had Bes driven us through an underwater portal? I hoped poor Carter had somehow survived; perhaps Bes was able to pull him free. But dying from poison rather than drowning didn’t seem much of an improvement.
A current caught me and whisked me into the Duat. The water changed into cold fog. Wailing and growling filled the darkness. My acceleration slowed, and when the mist dissipated, I was back in Brooklyn House, floating just outside the infirmary door. On a bench against the wall, sitting together like old friends, were Anubis and Walt Stone. They looked like they were waiting for bad news. Walt’s hands were folded in his lap. His shoulders slumped. He’d changed clothes—a new sleeveless tee, a new pair of running shorts—but he looked like he hadn’t slept since returning from London.
Anubis talked to him in soothing tones, as if trying to ease his grief. I’d never seen Anubis in traditional Egyptian clothes before: bare-chested with a gold and ruby collar around his neck, a simple black kilt wrapped around his waist. It wasn’t a look I’d recommend for most guys, but Anubis pulled it off. I’d always imagined he would look rather skinny with his shirt off (not that I imagined that a lot, mind you) but he was in excellent shape. They must’ve had quite a good gym in the underworld, bench-pressing tombstones and whatnot.
At any rate, after the shock of seeing them together, my first thought was that something terrible must’ve happened to Jaz.
“What is it?” I asked, not sure if they could hear me. “What’s happened?”
Walt didn’t react, but Anubis looked up. As usual my heart did a little happy dance quite without my permission. His eyes were so mesmerizing, I completely forgot how to use my brain.
I said, “Um.”
&n
bsp; I know, Liz would’ve been proud.
“Sadie,” Anubis said. “You shouldn’t be here. Carter is dying.”
That jarred me back to my senses. “I know that, jackal boy! I didn’t ask to be—Wait, why am I here?”
Anubis pointed at the door of the infirmary. “I suspect Jaz’s spirit called to you.”