Rick Riordan - The Serpent's Shadow

“Walt, stop!” I yelped.

He jerked his hand away, but it was too late. The boat crumbled to ashes.

We lunged for the ropes. Thankfully they did not crumble—maybe because Walt was paying more attention now. Freak squawked as the boat disappeared, and suddenly Walt and I were dangling under the griffin’s belly, holding on to the ropes for dear life and bonking into each other as we flew above the skyscrapers of Manhattan.

“Walt!” I yelled over the wind. “You really need to get a handle on that power!”

“Sorry!” he shouted back.

My arms were aching, but somehow we made it to Brooklyn House without plummeting to our deaths. Freak set us down on the roof, where Bast was waiting, her mouth agape.

“Why are you swinging from ropes?” she demanded.

“Because it’s so fun,” I growled. “What’s the news?”

Behind the chimneys, a frail voice warbled: “Ha-lllooooo!”

The ancient sun god Ra popped out. He gave us a toothless grin and hobbled around the roof, muttering, “Weasels, weasels. Cookie, cookie, cookie!” He reached into the folds of his loincloth and tossed cookie crumbs in the air like confetti—and yes, it was just as disgusting as it sounds.

Bast tensed her arms, and her knives shot into her hands. Probably just an involuntary reflex; but she looked tempted to use those blades on someone—anyone. She reluctantly slipped the blades back into her sleeves.

“The news?” she said. “I’m on babysitting duty, thanks to your Uncle Amos, who asked me for a favor. And Sadie’s shabti is waiting for you downstairs. Shall we?”

Explaining Sadie and her shabti would take a whole separate recording.

My sister had no talent for crafting magical statues. That didn’t stop her from trying. She’d gotten this harebrained idea that she could create the perfect shabti to be her avatar, speak with her voice, and do all her chores like a remote-controlled robot. All her previous attempts had exploded or gone haywire, terrorizing Khufu and the initiates. Last week she’d created a magical Thermos with googly eyes that levitated around the room, yelling, “Exterminate! Exterminate!” until it smacked me in the head.

Sadie’s latest shabti was Sadie Junior—a gardener’s nightmare.

Not being much of an artist, Sadie had fashioned a vaguely human figure out of red ceramic flowerpots, held together by magic, string, and duct tape. The face was an upside-down pot with a smiley face drawn in black marker.

“About time.” The pot creature was waiting in my room when Walt and I came in. Its mouth didn’t move, but Sadie’s voice echoed from inside the face pot as if she were trapped within the shabti . That thought made me happy.

“Stop smiling!” she ordered. “I can see you, Carter. Oh…and, uh, hullo, Walt.”

The pot monster made squeaky grinding noises as it stood up straight. One clunky arm rose and tried to fix Sadie’s nonexistent hair. Leave it to Sadie to be self-conscious around boys, even when she’s made out of pots and duct tape.

We traded stories. Sadie told us about the impending attack on the First Nome that was supposed to go down at sunrise on the equinox, and the alliance between Sarah Jacobi’s forces and Apophis. Wonderful news. Just great.

In return, I told Sadie about our visit with Thoth. I shared the visions Apophis had shown me about our mother’s precarious situation in the Duat (which made the pot monster shudder) and the end of the world (which didn’t seem to surprise her at all). I didn’t tell Sadie about Apophis’s offer to spare me if I gave up Ra. I didn’t feel comfortable announcing that with Ra just outside the door, singing songs about cookies. But I told her about the evil ghost Setne, whose trial would start at sunset in the Hall of Judgment.

“Uncle Vinnie,” Sadie said.

“Pardon?” I asked.

“The face that spoke to me at the Dallas Museum,” she said. “It was obviously Setne himself. He warned me that we would need his help to understand the shadow execration spell. He said we’d have to ‘pull some strings’ and free him before sunset tonight. He meant the trial. We’ll have to convince Dad to free him.”

“I did mention that Thoth said he’s a murderous psychopath, right?”

The pot monster made a clucking sound. “Carter, it’ll be fine. Befriending psychopaths is one of our specialties.”

She turned her flowerpot head toward Walt. “You’ll be coming along, I hope?”

Her tone had a hint of reproach, like she was still upset that Walt hadn’t attended the school dance/mass blackout party.

“I’ll be there,” he promised. “I’m fine.”

He shot me a warning look, but I wasn’t going to contradict him. Whatever he and Anubis were plotting, I could wait for him to explain it to Sadie. Jumping in the middle of the whole Sadie-Walt-Anubis drama sounded about as much fun as diving into a food processor.

“Right,” Sadie said. “We’ll meet you two at the Hall of Judgment before sunset tonight. That should give us time to finish up.”

“Finish up?” I asked. “And who is us ?”

It’s hard to read expressions on a smiley-face pot, but Sadie’s hesitation told me enough. “You aren’t in the First Nome anymore,” I guessed. “What are you doing?”

“A small errand,” Sadie said. “I’m off to see Bes.”

I frowned. Sadie went to see Bes in his nursing home almost every week, which was fine and all, but why now? “Uh, you do understand we’re in a hurry.”

“It’s necessary,” she insisted. “I’ve got an idea that might help us with our shadow project. Don’t fret. Zia’s with me.”

“Zia?” It was my turn to feel self-conscious. If I were a flowerpot, I would’ve checked my hair. “That’s why Bast is watching Ra today? Why exactly are you and Zia—?”

“Stop worrying,” Sadie chided. “I’ll take good care of her. And no, Carter, she hasn’t been talking about you. I have no idea how she feels about you.”

“What?” I wanted to punch Sadie Junior in her ceramic face. “I didn’t say anything like that!”

“Now, now,” she chided. “I don’t think Zia cares what you wear. It’s not a date. Just please brush your teeth for once.”

“I’m going to kill you,” I said.

“Love you too, brother, dear. Ta!”

The pottery creature crumbled into pieces, leaving a mound of shards and a red clay face smiling up at me.

Walt and I joined Bast outside my room. We leaned on the rail overlooking the Great Room while Ra skipped back and forth on the balcony, singing nursery songs in Ancient Egyptian.

Down below, our initiates were getting ready for the school day. Julian had a breakfast sausage sticking out of his mouth as he rummaged through his backpack. Felix and Sean were arguing over who stole whose math textbook. Little Shelby was chasing the other ankle-biters with a fistful of crayons that shot rainbow-colored sparks.

I’d never had a big family, but living at Brooklyn House, I felt like I had a dozen brothers and sisters. Despite the craziness, I enjoyed it…which made my next decision even harder.

I told Bast about our plan to visit the Hall of Judgment.

“I don’t like it,” she said.

Walt managed a laugh. “Is there a plan you’d like better?”

She tilted her head. “Now that you mention it, no. I don’t like plans. I’m a cat. Still, if half the things I’ve heard about Setne are true—”

“I know,” I said. “But it’s our only shot.”

She wrinkled her nose. “You don’t want me to come along? You’re sure? Maybe I could get Nut or Shu to watch Ra—”

“No,” I said. “Amos is going to need help at the First Nome. He doesn’t have the numbers to fend off an attack from both the rebel magicians and Apophis.”