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The Serpent's Shadow (Kane Chronicles 3)

Page 12

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You will lose the ones you love the most.…

I’d already lost so many people. My mom had died when I was seven. My dad had sacrificed himself to become the host of Osiris last year. Over the summer, many of our allies had fallen to Apophis, or been ambushed and “disappeared” thanks to the rebel magicians who didn’t accept my Uncle Amos as the new Chief Lector.

Who else could I lose…Sadie?

No, I’m not being sarcastic. Even though we’d grown up separately for most of our lives—me traveling around with Dad, Sadie living in London with Gran and Gramps—she was still my sister. We’d grown close over the last year. As annoying as she was, I needed her.

Wow, that’s depressing.

(And there’s the punch in the arm I was expecting. Ow.)

Or maybe Apophis meant someone else, like Zia Rashid…

Our boat rose above the glittering suburbs of Dallas. With a defiant squawk, Freak pulled us into the Duat. Fog swallowed the boat. The temperature dropped to freezing. I felt a familiar tingle in my stomach, as if we were plunging from the top of a roller coaster. Ghostly voices whispered in the mist.

Just when I started to think we were lost, my dizziness passed. The fog cleared. We were back on the East Coast, sailing over New York Harbor toward the nighttime lights of the Brooklyn waterfront and home.

The headquarters of the Twenty-first Nome perched on the shoreline near the Williamsburg Bridge. Regular mortals wouldn’t see anything but a huge dilapidated warehouse in the middle of an industrial yard, but to magicians, Brooklyn House was as obvious as a lighthouse—a five-story mansion of limestone blocks and steel-framed glass rising from the top of the warehouse, glowing with yellow and green lights.

Freak landed on the roof, where the cat goddess Bast was waiting for us.

“My kittens are alive!” She took my arms and looked me over for wounds, then did the same to Sadie. She tutted disapprovingly as she examined Sadie’s bandaged hands.

Bast’s luminous feline eyes were a little unsettling. Her long black hair was tied back in a braid, and her acrobatic bodysuit changed patterns as she moved—by turns tiger stripes, leopard spots, or calico. As much as I loved and trusted her, she made me a little nervous when she did her “mother cat” inspections. She kept knives up her sleeves—deadly iron blades that could slip into her hands with the flick of her wrists—and I was always afraid she might make a mistake, pat me on the cheek, and end up decapitating me. At least she didn’t try to pick us up by the scruffs of our necks or give us a bath.

“What happened?” she asked. “Everyone is safe?”

Sadie took a shaky breath. “Well…”

We told her about the destruction of the Texas nome.

Bast growled deep in her throat. Her hair poofed out, but the braid held it down so her scalp looked like a heated pan of Jiffy Pop popcorn. “I should’ve been there,” she said. “I could have helped!”

“You couldn’t,” I said. “The museum was too well protected.”

Gods are almost never able to enter magicians’ territory in their physical forms. Magicians have spent millennia developing enchanted wards to keep them out. We’d had enough trouble reworking the wards on Brooklyn House to give Bast access without opening ourselves up to attacks by less friendly gods.

Taking Bast to the Dallas Museum would’ve been like trying to get a bazooka through airport security—if not totally impossible, then at least pretty darn slow and difficult. Besides, Bast was our last line of defense for Brooklyn House. We needed her to protect our home base and our initiates. Twice before, our enemies had almost destroyed the mansion. We didn’t want there to be a third time.

Bast’s bodysuit turned pure black, as it tended to do when she was moody. “Still, I’d never forgive myself if you…” She glanced at our tired, frightened crew. “Well, at least you’re back safe. What’s the next step?”

Walt stumbled. Alyssa and Felix caught him.

“I’m fine,” he insisted, though he clearly wasn’t. “Carter, I can get everyone together if you want. A meeting on the terrace?”

He looked like he was about to pass out. Walt would never admit it, but our main healer, Jaz, had told me that his level of pain was almost unbearable all the time now. He was only able to stay on his feet because she kept tattooing pain-relief hieroglyphs on his chest and giving him potions. In spite of that, I’d asked him to come to Dallas with us—another decision that weighed on my heart.

The rest of our crew needed sleep too. Felix’s eyes were puffy from crying. Alyssa looked like she was going into shock.

If we met now, I wouldn’t know what to say. I had no plan. I couldn’t stand in front of the whole nome without breaking down. Not after having caused so many deaths in Dallas.

I glanced at Sadie. We came to a silent agreement.

“We’ll meet tomorrow,” I told the others. “You guys get some sleep. What happened with the Texans…” My voice caught. “Look, I know how you feel. I feel the same way. But it wasn’t your fault.”

I’m not sure they bought it. Felix wiped a tear from his cheek. Alyssa put her arm around him and led him toward the stairwell. Walt gave Sadie a glance I couldn’t interpret—maybe wistfulness or regret—then followed Alyssa downstairs.

“Agh?” Khufu patted the golden cabinet.



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