The Throne of Fire

Emma stumbled into me again. “Your, um, territory?”

Liz gulped. “Who—ah—?”

“Shhh,” I told them, trying to stay composed, as if I met hot guys in graveyards every day. I glanced down the street and saw no sign of Babi or Nekhbet, but I could still hear them —the baboon god roaring, the vulture goddess shrieking in my Gran’s voice (if Gran had been eating gravel and taking steroids) “This way! This way!”

“Wait here,” I told my friends, and I stepped inside the gate.

Immediately, the air turned colder. Mist rose from the soggy ground. The gravestones shimmered, and everything outside the fence went slightly out of focus. Anubis made me feel unbalanced in many ways, of course, but I recognized this effect. We were slipping into the Duat—experiencing the graveyard on two levels at once: Anubis’s world and mine.

He led me to a crumbling stone sarcophagus and bowed to it respectfully. “Beatrice, do you mind if we sit?”

Nothing happened. The inscription on the sarcophagus had worn away centuries ago, but I supposed this was Beatrice’s final resting place.

“Thank you.” Anubis gestured for me to sit. “She doesn’t mind.”

“What happens if she does mind?” I sat down a bit apprehensively.

“The Eighteenth Nome,” Anubis said.

“Excuse me?”

“That’s where you must go. Vlad Menshikov has the second section of the Book of Ra in the top drawer of his desk, in his headquarters in St. Petersburg. It’s a trap, of course. He’s hoping to bait you. But if want the scroll, you’ve got no choice. You should go tonight, before he has time to strengthen his defenses even further. And Sadie, if the other gods found out I was telling you this, I would be in big trouble.”

I stared at him. Sometimes he acted so much like a teenager, it was hard to believe he was thousands of years old. I suppose that came from living a sheltered life in the Land of the Dead, unaffected by the passage of time. The boy really needed to get out more.

“You’re worried about getting into trouble?” I asked. “Anubis, not that I’m ungrateful, but I’ve got bigger problems at the moment. Two gods have possessed my grandparents. If you want to lend a hand—”

“Sadie, I can’t intervene.” He turned up his palms in frustration. “I told you when we first met, this isn’t an actual physical body.”

“Shame,” I mumbled.

“What?”

“Nothing. Go on.”

“I can manifest in places of death, like this churchyard, but there is very little I can do outside my territory. Now, if you were already dead and you wanted a nice funeral, I could help you, but—”

“Oh, thanks!”

Somewhere nearby, the baboon god roared. Glass shattered, and bricks crumbled. My friends called to me, but the sounds were distorted and muffled, as if I was hearing them from underwater.

“If I go on without my friends,” I asked Anubis, “will the gods leave them alone?”

Anubis shook his head. “Nekhbet preys on the weak. She knows that hurting your friends will weaken you. That’s why she targeted your grandparents. The only way to stop her is by facing her down. As for Babi, he represents the darkest qualities of you primates: murderous rage, uncontrolled strength—”

“We primates?” I said. “Sorry, did you just call me a baboon?”

Anubis studied me with a kind of confused awe. “I’d forgotten how irritating you are. My point was that he will kill you just for the sake of killing.”

“And you can’t help me.”

He gave me a mournful look with those gorgeous brown eyes. “I told you about St. Petersburg.”

Lord, he was good-looking, and so annoying.

“Well, then, god of pretty much nothing useful,” I said, “anything else before I get myself killed?”

He held up his hand. A strange sort of knife materialized in his grasp. It was shaped like a Sweeney Todd razor: long, curvy, and wickedly sharp along one edge, made from black metal.

“Take this,” Anubis said. “It will help.”

“Have you seen the size of the baboon? Am I supposed to give him a shave?”

“This is not to fight Babi or Nekhbet,” he said, “but you will need it soon for something even more important. It’s a netjeri blade, made from meteoric iron. It’s used for a ceremony I once told you about—the opening of the mouth.”

“Yes, well, if I survive the night, I’ll be sure to take this razor and open someone’s mouth. Thanks ever so much.”

Liz screamed, “Sadie!” Through the mist of the graveyard, I saw Babi a few blocks away, lumbering toward the church. He’d spotted us.

“Take the Underground,” Anubis suggested, pulling me to my feet. “There’s a station half a block south. They won’t be able to track you very well below the earth. Running water is also good. Creatures of the Duat are weakened by crossing a river. If you must battle them, find a bridge over the Thames. Oh, and I told your driver to come get you.”

“My driver?”

“Yes. He wasn’t planning to meet you until tomorrow, but—”

A red Royal Mail box hurtled through the air and smashed into the building next door. My friends screamed at me to hurry.

“Go,” Anubis said. “I’m sorry I can’t do more. But happy birthday, Sadie.”

He leaned forward and kissed me on the lips. Then he melted into mist and disappeared. The graveyard became normal again—part of the regular, unshimmery world.

I should’ve been very cross with Anubis. Kissing me without permission—the nerve! But I stood there, paralyzed, staring at Beatrice’s crumbling sarcophagus, until Emma yelled, “Sadie, come on!”

My friends grabbed my arms, and I remembered how to run.

We bolted for the Canary Wharf tube station. The baboon roared and smashed through traffic behind us. Overhead, Nekhbet shrieked, “There they go! Kill them!”

“Who was that boy?” Emma demanded as we plunged into the station. “God, he was hot.”

“A god,” I muttered. “Yes.”

I slipped the black razor into my pocket and clambered down the escalator, my lips still tingling from my first kiss.

And if I was humming “Happy Birthday” and smiling stupidly as I fled for my life—well, that was nobody’s business, was it?

S A D I E

8. Major Delays at Waterloo Station (We Apologize for the Giant Baboon)

THE LONDON UNDERGROUND has lovely acoustics. Sound echoed through the tunnels, so as we descended I could hear the rush of the trains, the musicians playing for coins, and of course the killer baboon god roaring for blood as he pulverized the turnstiles behind us.

What with terrorism threats and stepped-up security, one might’ve expected a few police to be on hand; but sadly not this time of evening, not at such a relatively small station. Sirens wailed from the street above, but we’d be dead or long gone by the time mortal help arrived. And if the police did try to shoot Babi while he possessed Gramps’s body—no. I forced myself not to think about that.

Anubis had suggested traveling underground. And if I had to fight, I should find a bridge. I had to stick with