C A R T E R
9. We Run from Four Guys in Skirts
SO, YEAH. OUR CAT WAS A GODDESS.
What else is new?
She didn’t give us much time to talk about it. She ordered me to the library to grab my dad’s magic kit, and when I came back she was arguing with Sadie about Khufu and Philip.
“We have to search for them!” Sadie insisted.
“They’ll be fine,” said Bast. “However, we will not be, unless we leave now.”
I raised my hand. “Um, excuse me, Miss Goddess Lady? Amos told us the house was—”
“Safe?” Bast snorted. “Carter, the defenses were too easily breached. Someone sabotaged them.”
“What do you mean? Who—”
“Only a magician of the House could’ve done it.”
“Another magician?” I asked. “Why would another magician want to sabotage Amos’s house?”
“Oh, Carter,” Bast sighed. “So young, so innocent. Magicians are devious creatures. Could be a million reasons why one would backstab another, but we don’t have time to discuss it. Now, come on!”
She grabbed our arms and led us out the front door. She’d sheathed her knives, but she still had some wicked sharp claws for fingernails that hurt as they dug into my skin. As soon as we stepped outside, the cold wind stung my eyes. We climbed down a long flight of metal stairs into the industrial yard that surrounded the factory.
Dad’s workbag was heavy on my shoulder. The curved sword I’d strapped across my back felt cold against my thin linen clothes. I’d started to sweat during the serpopard attack, and now my perspiration felt like it was turning to ice.
I looked around for more monsters, but the yard seemed abandoned. Old construction equipment lay in rusting heaps—a bulldozer, a crane with a wrecking ball, a couple of cement mixers. Piles of sheet metal and stacks of crates made a maze of obstacles between the house and the street a few hundred yards away.
We were about halfway across the yard when an old gray tomcat stepped in our path. One of his ears was torn. His left eye was swollen shut. Judging from his scars, he’d spent most of his life fighting.
Bast crouched and stared at the cat. He looked up at her calmly.
“Thank you,” Bast said.
The old tomcat trotted off toward the river.
“What was that about?” Sadie asked.
“One of my subjects, offering help. He’ll spread the news about our predicament. Soon every cat in New York will be on alert.”
“He was so battered,” Sadie said. “If he’s your subject, couldn’t you heal him?”
“And take away his marks of honor? A cat’s battle scars are part of his identity. I couldn’t—” Suddenly Bast tensed. She dragged us behind a stack of crates.
“What is it?” I whispered.
She flexed her wrists and her knives slid into her hands. She peeped over the top of the crates, every muscle in her body trembling. I tried to see what she was looking at, but there was nothing except the old wrecking-ball crane.
Bast’s mouth twitched with excitement. Her eyes were fixed on the huge metal ball. I’d seen kittens look like that when they stalked catnip toy mice, or pieces of string, or rubber balls....Balls? No. Bast was an ancient goddess. Surely she wouldn’t—
“This could be it.” She shifted her weight. “Stay very very still.”
“There’s no one there,” Sadie hissed.
I started to say, “Um...”