“The 8:14 train for Brighton is delayed,” said the announcer. “We apologize for the inconvenience.”
Babi had seen us now. His eyes smoldered with primal rage, but I also saw something of Gramps in his expression. The way he furrowed his brow and jutted out his chin—just as Gramps did when he got angry at the telly and yelled at the rugby players. Seeing that expression on the baboon god almost made me lose my nerve.
I wasn’t going to die here. I wasn’t going to let these two repulsive gods hurt my friends or burn up my grandparents.
Babi lumbered toward us. Now that he’d found us, he didn’t seem in any hurry to kill us. He lifted his head and made a deep barking sound to the left and right, as if calling out, summoning friends for dinner. Emma’s fingers dug into my arm. Liz whimpered, “Sadie…?”
The crowds had mostly cleared out now. No other police were in sight. Perhaps they’d fled, or perhaps they were all on their way to Canary Wharf, not realizing the problem was now here.
“We’re not going to die,” I promised my mates. “Emma, hold my staff.”
“Your—Oh, right.” She took the staff gingerly as if I’d handed her a rocket launcher, which I suppose it could’ve been with the proper spell.
“Liz,” I ordered, “watch the baboon.”
“Watching the baboon,” she said. “Rather hard to miss the baboon.”
I rummaged through my magic bag, desperately taking inventory. Wand…good for defense, but against two gods at once, I needed more. Sons of Horus, magic chalk—this wasn’t the place to draw a protective circle. I had to get to the bridge. I needed to buy time to get out of this terminal.
“Sadie…” Liz warned.
Babi had jumped onto the roof of the Body Shop. He roared, and smaller baboons began to appear from every direction—climbing over the heads of fleeing commuters, swinging down from the girders, popping out of the stairwells and shops. There were dozens of them, all wearing black-and-silver basketball jerseys. Was basketball some sort of international baboon sport?
Until today, I’d been rather fond of baboons. The ones I’d met before, like Khufu and his sociable friends, were the sacred animals of Thoth, god of knowledge. They were generally wise and helpful. I suspected, however, that Babi’s troop of baboons was a different sort altogether. They had bloodred fur, wild eyes, and fangs that would’ve made a saber-toothed tiger feel inadequate.
They began to close in, snarling as they prepared to pounce.
I pulled a block of wax from my bag—no time to fashion a shabti. Two tyet amulets, the sacred mark of Isis—ah, those might be helpful. Then I found a corked glass vial I’d quite forgotten about. Inside was some murky sludge: my first attempt at a potion. It had been sitting at the bottom of my bag for ages because I’d never been desperate enough to test it.
I shook the potion. The liquid glowed with a sickly green light. Bits of gunk swirled inside. I uncorked it. The stuff smelled worse than Nekhbet.
“What is that?” Liz asked.
“Disgusting,” I said. “Animation scroll blended with oil, water, and a few secret ingredients. Came out a bit chunky, I’m afraid.”
“Animation?” Emma asked. “You’re going to summon cartoons?”
“That would be brilliant,” I admitted. “But this is more dangerous. If I do it right, I can ingest a great deal of magic without burning myself up.”
“And if you do it wrong?” Liz asked.
I handed them each an amulet of Isis. “Hold on to these. When I say Go, run for the taxi stands. Don’t stop.”
“Sadie,” Emma protested, “what on earth—”
Before I could lose my nerve, I gagged down the potion.
Above us, Nekhbet cackled. “Give up! You cannot oppose us!” The shadow of her wings seemed to spread over the entire concourse, making the last of the commuters flee in panic and weighing me down with fear. I knew it was only a spell, but still, the temptation to accept a quick death was almost overwhelming.
A few of the baboons got distracted by the smell of food and raided the McDonald’s. Several others were chasing a train conductor, beating him with rolled-up fashion magazines.
Sadly, most of the baboons were still focused on us. They made a loose ring around the Paperchase kiosk. From his command station atop the Body Shop, Babi howled—a clear command to attack.
Then the potion hit my gut. Magic coursed through my body. My mouth tasted like I’d swallowed a dead toad, but now I understood why potions were so popular with ancient magicians.
The animation spell, which had taken me days to write and would normally take at least an hour to cast, was now tingling in my bloodstream. Power surged into my fingertips. My only problem was channeling the magic, making sure it didn’t burn me to a crisp.
I called on Isis as best I could, tapping her power to help me shape the enchantment. I envisioned what I wanted, and the right word of p