The Serpent's Shadow

despair. As his power grew, his shadow grew stronger too. It was pulling in the spirits of the dead, consuming them.

I could guess the shadow was somewhere in the Duat, but that didn’t help. It was like saying somewhere in the Pacific Ocean. The Duat was huge.

I glared at Thoth. “Your other option is not to help us and let Apophis destroy the world.”

“Point taken,” he admitted, “which is why I’m still talking to you. There is a way you could find the shadow’s location. Long ago, when I was young and naïve, I wrote a book—a field study, of sorts—called the Book of Thoth.”

“Catchy name,” Walt muttered.

“I thought so!” Thoth said. “At any rate, it described every form and disguise each god can take, their most secret hiding places—all sorts of embarrassing details.”

“Including how to find their shadows?” I asked.

“No comment. At any rate, I never meant for humans to read the book, but it was stolen in ancient times by a crafty magician.”

“Where is it now?” I asked. Then I held up my hands. “Wait…let me guess. You can’t tell us.”

“Honestly, I don’t know,” Thoth said. “This crafty magician hid the book. Fortunately he died before he could take full advantage of it, but he did use its knowledge to formulate a number of spells, including the shadow execration. He wrote down his thoughts in a special variation of the Book of Overcoming Apophis.”

“Setne,” I said. “That’s the magician you’re talking about.”

“Indeed. His spell was only theoretical, of course. Even I never had that knowledge. And as you know, all copies of his scroll have now been destroyed.”

“So it’s hopeless,” I said. “Dead end.”

“Oh, no,” Thoth said. “You could ask Setne himself. He wrote the spell. He hid the Book of Thoth that, ahem, may or may not describe the shadow’s location. If he were so inclined, he could help you.”

“But hasn’t Setne been dead for thousands of years?”

Thoth grinned. “Yes. And that’s only the first problem.”

Thoth told us about Setne, who’d apparently been pretty famous in Ancient Egypt—like Robin Hood, Merlin, and Attila the Hun rolled into one. The more I heard, the less I wanted to meet him.

“He was a pathological liar,” Thoth said. “A scoundrel, a traitor, a thief, and a brilliant magician. He prided himself on stealing books of knowledge, including mine. He battled monsters, adventured in the Duat, conquered gods, and broke into sacred tombs. He created curses that couldn’t be lifted and unearthed secrets that should have stayed buried. He was quite the evil genius.”

Walt tugged at his amulets. “Sounds like you admire him.”

The god gave him a sidelong grin. “Well, I appreciate the pursuit of knowledge, but I couldn’t endorse Setne’s methods. He’d stop at nothing to possess the secrets of the universe. He wanted to be a god, you see—not the eye of a god. A full-fledged immortal.”

“Which is impossible,” I guessed.

“Hard, not impossible,” Thoth said. “Imhotep, the first mortal magician—he was made a god after his death.” Thoth turned toward his computers. “That reminds me, I haven’t seen Imhotep in millennia. I wonder what he’s up to. Perhaps I should Google him—”

“Thoth,” Walt said, “concentrate.”

“Right. So, Setne. He created this spell for destroying any being—even a god. I could never endorse such knowledge falling into the hands of a mortal, but hypothetically speaking, if you needed the spell to defeat Apophis, you might be able to convince Setne to teach you the enchantment and lead you to the shadow of Apophis.”

“Except Setne’s dead,” I said. “We keep coming back to that.”

Walt sat up. “Unless…you’re suggesting we find his spirit in the Underworld. But if Setne was so evil, wouldn’t Osiris have condemned him in the Hall of Judgment? Ammit would’ve eaten his heart, and he would have ceased to exist.”

“Normally, yes,” Thoth said. “But Setne is a special case. He’s quite…persuasive. Even before the court of the Underworld, he was able to, ah, manipulate the legal system. Many times, Osiris sentenced him to oblivion, but Setne always managed to evade punishment. He got a lighter sentence, or he made a plea bargain, or he simply escaped. He’s managed to survive—as a spirit, at least—all these eons.”

Thoth turned his swirling eyes toward me. “But recently, Carter Kane, your father became Osiris. He’s been cracking down on rebellious ghosts, trying to restore Ma’at to the Underworld. The next time the sun sets, approximately fourteen hours from now, Setne is scheduled for a new trial. He will come before your father. And this time—”

“My dad won’t let him go.” I felt like the demon’s hands were closing around my throat again.

My father was fair but stern. He didn’t take excuses from anyone. All the years we’d traveled together, I could never even get away with leaving my shirt untucked. If Setne was as bad as Thoth said, my father would show him no mercy. He’d toss this guy’s heart to Ammit the Devourer like it was a doggie biscuit.

Walt’s eyes shone with excitement. He looked more animated than I’d seen him in a long time. “We can plead with your dad,” he said. “We can get Setne’s trial delayed, or ask for a reduced sentence in exchange for Setne’s help. The laws of the Underworld allow that.”

I frowned. “How do you know so much about dead people’s court?”

I regretted saying that immediately. I realized that he’d probably been preparing himself to face that courtroom. Maybe that’s what he’d been discussing with Thoth earlier.

I’m afraid you don’t have much time, Thoth had said.

“Sorry, man,” I said.

“It’s okay,” Walt said. “But we have to try. If we can convince your dad to spare Setne—”

Thoth laughed. “That would be amusing, wouldn’t it? If Setne got off yet again, because his evil ways were the only thing that might save the world?”

“Hilarious,” I said. The brisket sandwich wasn’t sitting well in my stomach. “So you’re suggesting we go to my father’s court and try to save the ghost of an evil psychotic magician. Then we ask this ghost to lead us to Apophis’s shadow and teach us how to destroy it, while trusting that he won’t escape, kill us, or betray us to the enemy.”

Thoth nodded enthusiastically. “You’d have to be crazy! I certainly hope you are.”

I took a deep breath. “I guess I’m crazy.”

“Excellent!” Thoth cheered. “One more thing, Carter. To make this work, you’ll need Walt’s help, but he’s running out of time. His only chance—”

“It’s fine,” Walt snapped. “I’ll tell him myself.”

Before I could ask what he meant, the overtime buzzer blared from the arena’s speakers.

“It’s almost dawn,” Thoth said. “You two had better leave, before the demons return. Good luck. And by all means, give Setne my regards—if you live that long, of course.”

C A R T E R

8. My Sister, The Flowerpot

THE RIDE BACK WASN’T FUN.

Walt and I held on to the boat while our teeth chattered and our eyes jiggled. The magic fog had turned the color of blood. Ghostly voices whispered angrily, like they’d decided to riot and loot the ethereal world.

Sooner than I expected, Freak pushed his way out of the Duat. We found ourselves over the New Jersey dockyards, our boat trailing steam as Freak bobbed wearily through the air. In the distance, the Manhattan skyline