The Serpent's Shadow

proper good-bye or thank-you either.

“Bast, you’re coming with us, aren’t you?” I pleaded. “I mean, this silly exile can’t apply to you! We need our nap instructor at Brooklyn House.”

Bast wadded up her ball of yarn and tossed it down the steps. Her expression was quite sad for a feline. “Oh, my kittens. If I could, I would pick you up by the scruffs of your necks and carry you forever. But you’ve grown. Your claws are sharp, your eyesight is keen, and cats must make their own way in the world. I must say farewell for now, though I’m sure we’ll meet again.”

I wanted to protest that I hadn’t grown up and I didn’t even have claws.

(Carter disagrees, but what does he know?)

But part of me knew Bast was right. We’d been lucky to have her with us for so long. Now we had to be adult cats—er, humans.

“Oh, Muffin…” I hugged her fiercely, and could feel her purring.

She ruffled my hair. Then she rubbed Carter’s ears, which was quite funny.

“Go on, now,” she said. “Before I start to mewl. Besides…” She fixed her eyes on the ball of yarn, which had rolled to the bottom of the steps. She crouched and tensed her shoulders. “I have some hunting to do.”

“We’ll miss you, Bast,” I said, trying not to cry. “Good hunting.”

“Yarn,” she said absently, creeping down the steps. “Dangerous prey, yarn…”

Carter and I stepped through the portal. This time it deposited us onto the roof of Brooklyn House.

We had one more surprise. Standing by Freak’s roost, Walt was waiting. He smiled when he saw me, and my legs felt wobbly.

“I’ll, um, be inside,” Carter said.

Walt walked over, and I tried to remember how to breathe.

S A D I E

22. The Last Waltz (for Now)

HE’D CHANGED HIS LOOK AGAIN.

His amulets were gone except for one—the shen that matched mine. He wore a black muscle shirt, black jeans, a black leather duster, and black combat boots—a sort of mix of Anubis’s and Walt’s styles, but it made him look like someone entirely different and new. Yet his eyes were quite familiar—warm, dark brown, and lovely. When he smiled, my heart fluttered as it always had.

“So,” I said, “is this another good-bye? I’ve had quite enough good-byes today.”

“Actually,” Walt said, “it’s more of a hello. My name’s Walt Stone, from Seattle. I’d like to join the party.”

He held out his hand, still smiling slyly. He was repeating exactly what he’d said the first time we met, when he arrived at Brooklyn House last spring.

Instead of taking his hand, I punched him in the chest.

“Ow,” he complained. But I doubt that I’d hurt him. He had quite a solid chest.

“You think you can just merge with a god and surprise me like that?” I demanded. “Oh, by the way, I’m actually two minds in one body. I don’t appreciate being taken off guard.”

“I did try to tell you,” he said. “Several times. Anubis did too. We kept getting interrupted. Mostly by you talking a lot.”

“No excuse.” I folded my arms and scowled as best I could. “My mum seems to think I should go easy on you because this is all very new to you. But I’m still cross. It’s confusing enough, you know, liking someone, without their morphing into a god whom I also like.”

“So you do like me.”

“Stop trying to distract me! Are you truly asking to stay here?”

Walt nodded. He was very close now. He smelled good, like vanilla candles. I tried to remember if that was Walt’s scent or Anubis’s. Honestly, I couldn’t recall.

“I’ve still got a lot to learn,” he said. “I don’t need to stick with charm-making anymore. I can do more intensive magic—the path of Anubis. No one’s ever done that before.”

“Discovering new magical ways to annoy me?”

He tilted his head. “I could do amazing tricks with mummy linen. For instance, if someone talks too much, I could summon a gag—”

“Don’t you dare!”

He took my hand. I gave him a defiant scowl, but I didn’t take back my hand.

“I’m still Walt,” he said. “I’m still mortal. Anubis can stay in this world as long as I’m his host. I’m hoping to live a good long life. Neither of us ever thought that was possible. So I’m not going anywhere, unless you want me to leave.”

My eyes probably answered for me: No, please. Not ever. But I couldn’t very well give him the satisfaction of my saying that out loud, could I? Boys can get so full of themselves.

“Well,” I grumbled, “I suppose I could tolerate it.”

“I owe you a dance.” Walt put his other hand on my waist—a traditional pose, very old-fashioned, as Anubis had done when we waltzed at the Brooklyn Academy. My Gran would’ve approved.

“May I?” he asked.

“Here?” I said. “Won’t your chaperone Shu interrupt?”

“Like I said, I’m mortal now. He’ll let us dance, though I’m sure he’s keeping an eye on us to make sure we behave.”

“To make sure you behave,” I snipped. “I’m a proper young lady.”

Walt laughed. I supposed it was funny. Proper wasn’t the first word normally used to describe me.

I pounded his chest again, though I’ll admit not very hard. I put my hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll have you remember,” I warned, “that my father is your employer in the Underworld. You’d best mind your manners.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Walt said. He leaned down and kissed me. All my anger melted into my shoes.

We started to dance. There was no music, no ghostly dancers, no floating on air—nothing magic about it. Freak watched us curiously, no doubt wondering how this activity was going to produce turkeys to feed the griffin. The old tar roof creaked under our feet. I was still quite tired from our long battle, and I hadn’t cleaned up properly. No doubt I looked horrid. I wanted to melt into Walt’s arms, which is basically what I did.

“So you’ll let me stick around?” he asked, his breath warm on my scalp. “Let me experience a typical teenage life?”

“I suppose.” I looked up at him. It took no effort at all to slip my vision into the Duat and see Anubis there, just under the surface. But it really wasn’t necessary. This was a new boy in front of me, and he was everything I liked. “Not that I’m an expert myself, but there is one rule I insist on.”

“Yes?”

“If anyone asks you if you’re taken,” I said, “the answer is yes.”

“I think I can live with that,” he promised.

“Good,” I said. “Because you don’t want to see me be cross.”

“Too late.”

“Shut up and dance, Walt.”

We did—with the music of a psychotic griffin screaming behind us, and the sirens and horns of Brooklyn wailing below. It was quite romantic.

So there you have it.