“Farthest-north Egyptian artifacts in the world,” Bes said. “Pillaged from Thebes and brought up here to decorate Russia’s new imperial city, St. Petersburg. Like I said, every new empire wants a piece of Egypt.”
The kids outside were still shouting and banging on the car. One smashed a bottle against our windshield.
“Um,” Sadie said, “should we move?”
“Nah,” Bes said. “Russian kids always hang out by the sphinxes. Been doing it for hundreds of years.”
“But it’s like midnight here,” I said. “And it’s snowing.”
“Did I mention they’re Russian?” Bes said. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”
He opened his door. Glacier-cold wind swept into the Mer-cedes, but Bes stepped out wearing nothing but his Speedo. The kids backed up quickly. I couldn’t blame them. Bes said something in Russian, then roared like a lion. The kids screamed and ran.
Bes’s form seemed to ripple. When he got back into the car, he was wearing a warm winter coat, a fur-lined hat, and fuzzy mittens.
“See?” he said. “Superstitious. They know enough to run from a god.”
“A small hairy god in a Speedo, yes,” Sadie said. “So what do we do now?”
Bes pointed across the river at a glowing palace of white-and-gold stone. “That’s the Hermitage.”
“Hermits live there?” Sadie asked.
“No,” I said. “I’ve heard of that place. It was the tsar’s palace. Now it’s a museum. Best Egyptian collection in Russia.”
“Dad took you there, I suppose?” Sadie asked. I thought we were over the whole jealous-about-traveling-the-world-with-Dad thing, but every once in a while it cropped up again.
“We never went.” I tried not to sound defensive. “He got an invitation to speak there once, but he declined.”
Bes chuckled. “Your dad was smart. Russian magicians don’t exactly welcome outsiders. They protect their territory fiercely.”
Sadie stared across the river. “You mean the headquarters of the Eighteenth Nome is inside the museum?”
“Somewhere,” Bes agreed, “but it’s hidden with magic, because I’ve never found the entrance. That part you’re looking at is the Winter Palace, the old home of the tsar. There’s a whole complex of other mansions behind it. I’ve heard it would take eleven days just to see everything in all the Hermitage collections.”
“But unless we wake Ra, the world ends in four days,” I said.
“Three days now,” Sadie corrected, “if it’s after midnight.”
I winced. “Thanks for the reminder.”
“So take the abbreviated tour,” Bes said. “Start with the Egyptian section. Ground floor, main museum.”
“Aren’t you coming with us?” I asked.
“He can’t, can he?” Sadie guessed. “Like Bast couldn’t enter Desjardins’ house in Paris. The magicians charm their headquarters against the gods. Isn’t that right?”
Bes made an even uglier face. “I’ll walk you down to the bridge, but I can’t go any farther. If I cross the River Neva too close to the Hermitage, I’ll set off all kinds of alarms. You’ll have to sneak inside somehow—”
“Breaking into a museum at night,” Sadie muttered. “We’ve had such good luck with that.”
“—and find the entrance to the Eighteenth Nome. And don’t get captured alive.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “It’s better to be captured dead?”
The look in his eyes was grim. “Just trust me. You don’t want to be Menshikov’s prisoner.”
Bes snapped his fingers, and suddenly we were wearing fleece parkas, ski pants, and winter boots.