He grinned at me, apparently waiting for terror to set it.
“Oh, my!” I said. “That must make your enemies tremble.”
“Ha, ha, ha! Yes! Would you like to try a free sample?” He ripped a slimy leather pouch off his belt, and brought out a clay pot filled with sweet-smelling yellow powder. “I call this...Eternity!”
“Lovely,” I gagged. I glanced behind me, wondering where Carter had gone to, but there was no sign of him.
Keep him talking, Isis urged.
“And, um...perfume is part of your job because...wait, I’ve got it, you squeeze it out of plants, like you squeeze wine...”
“Or blood!” Shezmu added.
“Well, naturally,” I said. “The blood goes without saying.”
“Blood!” he said.
Khufu yelped and covered his eyes.
“So you serve Osiris?” I asked the demon.
“Yes! At least...” He hesitated, snarling in doubt. “I did. Osiris’s throne is empty. But he will return. He will!”
“Of course,” I said. “And so your friends call you what...Shezzy? Bloodsiekins?”
“I have no friends! But if I did, they would call me Slaughterer of Souls, Fierce of Face! But I don’t have any friends, so my name is not in danger. Ha, ha, ha!”
I looked at Bast, wondering if I’d just gotten as lucky as I thought. Bast beamed at me.
Carter came stumbling down the stairs, holding The Book of the Dead. “I’ve got it! Somewhere here. Can’t read this part, but—”
“Name me or be eaten!” Shezmu bellowed.
“I name you!” I shouted back. “Shezmu, Slaughterer of Souls, Fierce of Face!”
“GAAAAHHHHH!” He writhed in pain. “How do they always know?”
“Let us pass!” I commanded. “Oh, and one more thing...my brother wants a free sample.”
I just had time to step away, and Carter just had time to look confused before the demon blew yellow dust all over him. Then Shezmu sank under the waves.
“What a nice fellow,” I said.
“Pah!” Carter spit perfume. He looked like a piece of breaded fish. “What was that for?”
“You smell lovely,” I assured him. “What’s next, then?”
I was feeling very pleased with myself until our boat rounded a bend in the river. Suddenly the reddish glow on the horizon became a blaze of light. Up in the wheelhouse, the captain rang the alarm bell.
Ahead of us, the river was on fire, rushing through a steaming stretch of rapids towards what looked like a bubbling volcanic crater.
“The Lake of Fire,” Bast said. “This is where it gets interesting.”
S A D I E
28. I Have a Date with the God of Toilet Paper
BAST HAD AN INTERESTING DEFINITION of interesting: a boiling lake several miles wide that smelled like burning petrol and rotten meat. Our steamboat stopped short where the river met the lake, because a giant metal gate blocked our path. It was a bronze disk like a shield, easily as wide as our boat, half submerged in the river. I wasn’t sure how it avoided melting in the heat, but it made going forward impossible. On either bank of the river, facing the disk, was a giant bronze baboon with its arms raised.