I gazed up at Anubis’s warm brown eyes and his exquisite lips. He’d kissed me once—for my birthday, last spring—and I’d never quite got over it. You’d think a god of death would have cold lips, but that wasn’t the case at all.
I tried to clear my head. I knew Anubis must be here for some reason, but it was awfully hard to focus.
“I thought…Um,” I gulped and barely managed not to drool on myself.
Oh, brilliant, Sadie, I thought. Let’s try for a complete sentence, now, shall we?
“I thought you could only appear in places of death,” I said.
Anubis laughed gently. “This is a place of death, Sadie. The Battle of Brooklyn Heights, 1776. Hundreds of American and British troops died right where we’re dancing.”
“How romantic,” I muttered. “So we’re dancing on their graves?”
Anubis shook his head. “Most never received proper burials. That’s why I decided to visit you here. These ghosts could use a night of entertainment, just like your initiates.”
Suddenly, spirits were twirling all around us—luminous apparitions in eighteenth-century clothes. Some wore the red uniforms of British regulars. Others had ragtag militia outfits. They pirouetted with lady ghosts in plain farm dresses or fancy silk. A few of the posh women had piles of curly hair that would have made even Drew jealous. The ghosts seemed to be dancing to a different song. I strained my ears and could faintly hear violins and a cello.
None of the regular mortals seemed to notice the spectral invasion. Even my friends from Brooklyn House were oblivious. I watched as a ghostly couple waltzed straight through Carter and Lacy. As Anubis and I danced, Brooklyn Academy seemed to fade and the ghosts became more real.
One soldier had a musket wound in his chest. A British officer had a tomahawk sticking out of his powdered wig. We danced between worlds, waltzing side by side with smiling, gruesomely slaughtered phantoms. Anubis certainly knew how to show a girl a good time.
“You’re doing it again,” I said. “Taking me out of phase, or whatever you call it.”
“A little,” he admitted. “We need privacy to talk. I promised you I’d visit in person—”
“And you did.”
“—but it’s going to cause trouble. This may be the last time I can see you. There’s been grumbling about our situation.”
I narrowed my eyes. Was the god of the dead blushing?
“Our situation,” I repeated.
“Us.”
The word set my ears buzzing. I tried to keep my voice even. “As far as I’m aware, there is no official ‘us.’ Why would this be the last time we can talk?”
He was definitely blushing now. “Please, just listen. There’s so much I need to tell you. Your brother has the right idea. The shadow of Apophis is your best hope, but only one person can teach you the magic you need. Thoth may guide you somewhat, but I doubt he’ll reveal the secret spells. It’s too dangerous.”
“Hold on, hold on.” I was still reeling from the comment about us. And the idea that this might be the last time I saw Anubis.…That sent my brain cells into panic mode, thousands of tiny Sadies running around in my skull, screaming and waving their arms.
I tried to focus. “You mean Apophis does have a shadow? It could be used to execra
te—”
“Please don’t use that word.” Anubis grimaced. “But yes, all intelligent entities have souls, so all of them have shadows, even Apophis. I know this much, being the guide of the dead. I have to make souls my business. Could his shadow be used against him? In theory, yes. But there are many dangers.”
“Naturally.”
Anubis twirled me through a pair of colonial ghosts. Other students watched us, whispering as we danced, but their voices sounded distant and distorted, as if they were on the far side of a waterfall.
Anubis studied me with a sort of tender regret. “Sadie, I wouldn’t set you on this path if there was another way. I don’t want you to die.”
“I can agree with that,” I said.
“Even talking about this sort of magic is forbidden,” he warned. “But you need to know what you’re dealing with. The sheut is the least understood part of the soul. It’s…how to explain…a soul of last resort, an afterimage of the person’s life force. You’ve heard that the souls of the wicked are destroyed in the Hall of Judgment—”
“When Ammit devours their hearts,” I said.