Kane 2 - The Throne of Fire (21 page)

The magician-guard hesitated. He pointed at me nervously. “Kane.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” I agreed. “Kane.”

His expression was a jumble of emotions—fear, disbelief, possibly even awe. I didn’t know what he’d heard about us, but before he could decide whether to help us or fight us, the situation spun out of control.

The
tjesu heru
charged. My ridiculous brother—instead of rolling out of the way—tackled the monster.

He locked his arms around the creature’s right neck and tried to climb its back, but the
tjesu heru
simply turned its other head to strike.

What was my brother thinking? Perhaps he thought he could ride the beast. Perhaps he was trying to buy me a few seconds to cast a spell. If you ask him about it now, he’ll claim he doesn’t remember the incident at all. But if you ask me, the thickheaded fool was trying to save me, even if it meant sacrificing himself. The nerve!

[Oh, yes,
now
you try to explain yourself, Carter. I thought you didn’t remember this bit! Just be quiet and let me tell the story.]

As I was saying, the
tjesu heru
struck at Carter, and everything seemed to slow down. I remember screaming, lowering my staff at the monster. The soldier-magician yelled something in Russian. The creature sank its fangs into Carter’s left shoulder, and he dropped to the ground.

I forgot about my makeshift circle. I ran toward him, and my staff glowed. I don’t know how I managed the power. As Isis said, I didn’t think. I simply channeled all my rage and shock into my staff.

Seeing Carter hurt was the final insult. My grandparents had been possessed. My friends had been attacked, and my birthday ruined. But my brother was off-limits. No one was allowed to hurt my brother.

I unleashed a beam of golden light that hit the monster with the force of a sandblaster. The
tjesu heru
crumbled to bits, until there was nothing left but a streak of sand steaming in the snow and a few splinters of Menshikov’s shattered staff.

I ran to Carter’s side. He was shivering, his eyes rolled back in his head. Two puncture wounds in his coat were smoking.

“Kane,” the young Russian said with a tone of awe.

I snatched up a splinter of wood and held it for him to see. “Your boss Menshikov did this. He’s working for Apophis. Menshikov: Apophis. Now, GET OUT!”

The magician may not have understood my words, but he got the message. He turned and ran.

I cradled Carter’s head. I couldn’t carry him by myself, but I had to get him out of here. We were in enemy territory. I needed to find Bes.

I struggled to get him to his feet. Then someone took Carter’s other arm and helped us up. I found Set grinning at me, still in his ridiculous red disco suit, dusted with malachite rubble. Menshikov’s broken white sunglasses were propped on his head.

“You,” I said, too filled with loathing to issue a proper death threat.

“Me,” Set agreed cheerily. “Let’s get your brother out of here, shall we? Vladimir is
not
in a good mood.”

The Nevsky Prospekt would’ve been a lovely place to shop if it hadn’t been the wee hours of the morning during a snowstorm, and if I hadn’t been carrying my poisoned, comatose brother. The street had wide pavements, perfect for strolling, lined with a dazzling assortment of high-end boutiques, cafés, churches, and mansions. With all the signs in Russian, I didn’t see how I was going to find the chocolate shop. I couldn’t spot Bes’s black Mercedes anywhere.

Set volunteered to carry Carter, but I wasn’t about to let the god of chaos take full charge of my brother, so we dragged him between us. Set chatted amiably about
tjesu heru
poison: “Completely incurable! Fatal in about twelve hours. It’s amazing stuff!” And his tussle with Menshikov: “Six vases broken over his head, and he still survives! I envy his thick skull.” And my prospects of living long enough to find Bes: “Oh, you’re toast, my dear! A dozen senior magicians were rallying to Menshikov when I made my, er, strategic retreat. They’ll be after you shortly. I could’ve destroyed them all, of course, but I couldn’t risk Vladimir using my secret name again. Maybe he’ll get amnesia and forget it. Then if you die—that would be both problems solved. Oh, I’m sorry, I suppose that sounded insensitive. Come along!”

Carter’s head lolled. His breathing sounded almost as bad as Vlad the Inhaler’s.

Now, please don’t think I was dense. Of course I remembered the wax mini-Carter figurine Jaz had given me. I recognized that this was just the sort of emergency where it might come in handy. How Jaz had predicted Carter would need healing, I had no idea. But it was possible the figurine could draw the poison out of him, despite what Set said about it being incurable. What does a god of evil know about healing, anyway?

There were problems, however. First, I knew very little about healing magic. I needed time to figure out the proper casting, and since I had only one wax statue, I couldn’t afford to get it wrong. Second, I couldn’t very well do that while being chased by Menshikov and his squad of magical Russian goons, nor did I want to let my guard down with Set anywhere near me. I didn’t know why he’d decided to be helpful all of a sudden, but the sooner I could lose him, the better. I needed to find Bes and retreat to somewhere safe—if there was such a place.

Set kept chatting about all the exciting ways the magicians might kill me once they caught up. Finally I spotted a bridge up ahead over a frozen canal. Parked in the middle was the black Mercedes. Bes leaned against the hood, eating pieces off a chocolate chessboard. Next to him sat a large plastic bag—hopefully with more chocolate for me.

I yelled to him, but he was so engrossed in eating chocolate (which I suppose I could understand) that he didn’t notice us until we were a few meters away. Then he looked up and saw Set.

I started to say, “Bes, don’t—”

Too late. Like a skunk, the dwarf god activated his default defense. His eyes bulged out. His mouth opened impossibly wide. He yelled “BOO!” so loudly, my hair parted, and icicles rained down from the bridge’s streetlamps.

Set didn’t look the least bit fazed.

“Hello, Bes,” he said. “Really, you’re not so scary with chocolate smeared on your face.”

Bes glared at me. “What’s
he
doing here?”

“Not my idea!” I promised. I gave him the abbreviated story of our encounter with Menshikov.

“And so Carter’s been hurt,” I summed up, which seemed rather obvious. “We have to get him out of here.”

“But first,” Set interrupted, pointing at the Chocolate Museum bag next to Bes, “I can’t stand surprises. What’s in there? A gift for me?”

Bes frowned. “Sadie wanted a souvenir. I brought her Lenin’s head.”

Set slapped his thigh with delight. “Bes, how evil! There’s hope for you yet.”

“Not his
real
head,” Bes said. “It’s chocolate.”

“Oh…shame. Can I have part of your chessboard, then? I simply love eating pawns.”

“Get out of here, Set!” Bes said.

“Well, I could do that, but since our friends are on their way, I thought perhaps we should make a deal.”

Set snapped his fingers, and a globe of red light appeared in front of him. In it, the holographic images of six men in security uniforms piled into two white sports cars. Their headlights blazed to life. The cars swerved across a parking lot, then passed straight through a stone wall as if it were made of smoke.

“I’d say you have about two minutes.” Set smiled, and the globe of light faded. “You remember Menshikov’s minions, Bes. Are you sure you want to meet them again?”

The dwarf god’s face darkened. He crushed a white chocolate chess piece in his hand. “You lying, scheming, murdering—”

“Stop!” I said.

Carter groaned in his poisoned daze. Either he was getting heavier, or I was getting tired of holding him up.

“We don’t have time to argue,” I said. “Set, are you offering to stop the magicians?”

He laughed. “No, no. I’m still hoping they’ll kill you, you see. But I was going to offer you the location of the last scroll in the Book of Ra. That
is
what you’re after, isn’t it?”

I assumed he was lying. He usually was—but if he was serious…

I looked at Bes. “Is it possible he knows the location?”

Bes grunted. “More than possible. The priests of Ra
gave
him the scroll for safekeeping.”

“Why on earth would they do that?”

Set tried to look modest. “Come now, Sadie. I was a loyal lieutenant of Ra. If you were Ra, and you didn’t want to be bothered by any old magician trying to wake you, wouldn’t you trust the key to your location with your most fearsome servant?”

He had a point. “Where’s the scroll, then?”

“Not so fast. I’ll give you the location if
you
give me back my secret name.”

“Not likely!”

“It’s quite simple. Just say ‘I give you back your name.’ You’ll forget the proper way to say it—”

“And then I’ll have no power over you! You’ll kill me!”

“You’d have my word that I won’t.”

“Right. That’s worth a lot. What if I used your secret name to
force
you to tell me?”

Set shrugged. “With a few days to research the correct spell, you might manage that. Unfortunately…” He cupped his ear to his hand. In the distance, tires squealed—two cars, traveling fast, getting closer. “You don’t have a few days.”

Bes cursed in Egyptian. “Don’t do it, girl. He can’t be trusted.”

“Can we find the scroll without him?”

“Well…maybe. Probably not. No.”

The headlights of two cars swerved onto the Nevsky Prospekt, roughly half a mile away. We were out of time. I had to get Carter away from here, but if Set really was our only way of finding the scroll, I couldn’t just let him go.

“All right, Set. But I’ll give you one last order.”

Bes sighed. “I can’t bear to watch this. Give me your brother. I’ll put him in the car.”

The dwarf took Carter and stuffed him into the backseat of the Mercedes.

I kept my eyes on Set, trying to think of the
least
terrible way to make this deal. I couldn’t simply tell him to
never
hurt my family. A magical pact needed to be carefully worded, with clear limits and an expiration date, or the whole spell would unravel. “
Evil Day,
you are not to harm the Kane family. You’ll maintain a truce with us at least until—until Ra has been awakened.”

“Or until you try and
fail
to awaken him?” Set asked innocently.

“If that happens,” I said, “the world is going to end. So why not? I will do what you ask concerning your name. In exchange, you will tell me the location of the last part of the Book of Ra, without trickery or deception. Then you’ll depart for the Duat.”

Set considered the offer. The two white sports cars were only a few blocks away now. Bes shut Carter’s door and ran back over.

“We have a deal,” Set agreed. “You’ll find the scroll at Bahariya. Bes knows the place I mean.”

Bes didn’t look happy. “That place is heavily protected. We’ll have to use the Alexandria portal.”

“Yes.” Set grinned. “Should be interesting! How long can you hold your breath, Sadie Kane?”

“What do you mean?”

“Never mind, never mind. Now, I believe you owe me a secret name.”

“I give you back your name,” I said. Just like that, I felt the magic leave me. I still knew Set’s name: Evil Day. But somehow I couldn’t remember exactly how I used to say it, or how it worked in a spell. The memory had been erased.

To my surprise, Set didn’t kill me on the spot. He just smiled and tossed me Vlad Menshikov’s sunglasses. “I hope you live, after all, Sadie Kane. You’re quite amusing. But if they do kill you, at least enjoy the experience!”

“Gosh, thanks.”

“And just because I like you so much, I have a free piece of information for your brother. Tell him Zia Rashid’s village was called al-Hamrah Makan.”

“Why is that—”

“Happy travels!” Set disappeared in a cloud of blood-colored mist. A block away, the two white sports cars barreled toward us. A magician stuck his head out the sunroof of the lead car and pointed his staff in our direction.

“Time to leave,” Bes said. “Get in!”

I will say this for Bes: he drove like a maniac. And I mean that in the best possible way. Icy streets didn’t bother him at all. Neither did traffic signals, pedestrian pavements, or canals, which he twice jumped without bothering to find a bridge. Fortunately, the city was mostly empty that time of morning, or I’m sure we would have mowed down any number of Russians.

We wove through central St. Petersburg while the two white sports cars closed behind us. I tried to hold Carter steady next to me in the backseat. His eyes were half-open, his corneas the most awful shade of green. Despite the cold, he was burning with fever. I managed to tug off his winter coat and found his shirt soaked with sweat. On his shoulder, the puncture wounds were oozing like…Well, it’s probably best I don’t describe that part.

I glanced behind us. The magician in the sunroof aimed his staff—not an easy task in a high-speed car chase—and a glowing white javelin shot from the tip, hurtling toward us like a homing missile.

“Duck!” I yelled, and pushed Carter against the seat.

The javelin broke the rear window and flew straight through the windshield. If Bes had been normal height, he would have gotten a free head piercing. As it was, the projectile missed him completely.

“I’m a dwarf,” he grumbled. “I don’t duck!”

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.