Walt flexed his fingers. “Anubis thinks he understands why I have that ability. And there’s more. He thinks there might be a way to extend my life.”
That was such good news that I let out a shaky laugh. “Why didn’t you say so? He can cure you?”
“No,” Walt said. “Not a cure. And it’s risky. It’s never been done before.”
“That’s what you were talking to Thoth about.”
Walt nodded. “Even if Anubis’s plan works, there could be…side effects. You might not like it.” He lowered his voice. “Sadie might not like it.”
Unfortunately, I had a vivid imagination. I envisioned Walt turning into some sort of undead creature—a withered mummy, a ghostly ba, or a disfigured demon. In Egyptian magic, side effects could be pretty extreme.
I tried not to let my emotions show. “We want you to live. Don’t worry about Sadie.”
I could tell from Walt’s eyes that he worried about Sadie a lot. Seriously, what did he see in my sister?
[Stop hitting me, Sadie. I’m just being honest.]
Walt flexed his fingers. Maybe it was my imagination, but I thought I detected wisps of gray steam curling from his hands, as if just talking about his strange power had made it turn active.
“I won’t make the decision yet,” Walt said. “Not until I’m on my last breath. I want to talk to Sadie first, explain to her…”
He rested his hand on the side of the boat. That was a mistake. The woven reeds turned gray under his touch.
“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.”