“He rose from nothing to become a great scientist,” Desjardins continued, “and a great magician—respected by mortals and magicians alike.”
Menshikov smiled like he was humoring a child who was becoming annoying. “And now you are Chief Lector. He would be proud.”
“Would he?” Desjardins wondered. “When Iskandar accepted my family into the House of Life, he said he welcomed the new blood and new ideas. He hoped we would reinvigorate the House. Yet what did we contribute? We changed nothing. We questioned nothing. The House has grown weak. We have fewer initiates every year.”
“Ah, my lord.” Menshikov bared his teeth. “Let me show you we are not weak. Your attack force is assembled.”
He clapped his hands. At the far end of the hall, the huge bronze doors opened. At first I couldn’t believe my eyes, but as the small army marched toward us, I got more and more alarmed.
The dozen magicians were the least scary part of the group. They were mostly older men and women in traditional linen robes. Many had kohl around their eyes and hieroglyphic tattoos on their hands and faces. Some wore more amulets than Walt. The men had shaved heads; the women wore their hair short or tied back in ponytails. All of them had grim expressions, like an angry mob of peasants out to burn the Frankenstein monster, except instead of pitchforks they were armed with staffs and wands. Several had swords, too.
Marching on either side of them were demons—about twenty in all. I’d fought demons before, but something about these was different. They moved with more confidence, like they shared a sense of purpose. They radiated evil so strongly my ba felt like it was getting a suntan. Their skin was every color from green to black to violet. Some were dressed in armor, some in animal hides, some in flannel pajamas. One had a chain saw for a head. Another had a guillotine. A third had a foot sprouting between his shoulders.
Even scarier than the demons were the winged snakes. Yeah, I know, you’re thinking: “Not more snakes!” Believe me, after getting bit by the tjesu heru in St. Petersburg, I wasn’t happy to see them either. These weren’t three-headed, and they weren’t any bigger than normal snakes, but just looking at them gave me the creeps. Imagine a cobra with the wings of an eagle. Now imagine it zipping through the air, exhaling long jets of fire like a flamethrower. Half a dozen of these monsters circled the attack squad, darting in and out and spitting fire. It was a miracle none of the magicians got torched.
As the group approached, Desjardins struggled to his feet. The magicians and demons knelt before him. One of the winged snakes flew in front of the Chief Lector, and Desjardins snatched it out of the air with surprising speed. The snake wriggled in his fist, but didn’t try to strike.
“A uraeus?” Desjardins asked. “This is dangerous, Vladimir. These are creatures of Ra.”
Menshikov inclined his head. “They once served the temple of Amun-Ra, Chief Lector, but do not worry. Because of my ancestry, I can control them. I thought it fitting, using creatures of the sun god to destroy those who would wake him.”
Desjardins released the snake, which spout
ed fire and flew away.
“And the demons?” Desjardins asked. “Since when do we use creatures of Chaos?”
“They are well controlled, my lord.” Menshikov’s voice sounded strained, as if he were growing tired of humoring his boss. “These mages know the proper binding spells. I handpicked them from nomes around the world. They have great skill.”
The Chief Lector focused on an Asian man in blue robes. “Kwai, isn’t it?”
The man nodded.
“As I recall,” Desjardins said, “you were exiled to the Three-Hundredth Nome in North Korea for murdering a fellow magician. And you, Sarah Jacobi”—he pointed to a woman with white robes and spiky black hair—“you were sent to Antarctica for causing the tsunami in the Indian Ocean.”
Menshikov cleared his throat. “My lord, many of these magicians have had issues in the past, but—”
“They are ruthless murderers and thieves,” Desjardins said. “The worst of our House.”
“But they are anxious to prove their loyalty,” Menshikov assured him. “They are happy to do it!”
He grinned at his minions, as if encouraging them to look happy. None of them did.
“Besides, my lord,” Menshikov continued quickly, “if you want Brooklyn House destroyed, we must be ruthless. It is for the good of Ma’at.”
Desjardins frowned. “And you, Vladimir? Will you lead them?”
“No, my lord. I have full confidence that this, ah, fine group can deal with Brooklyn on their own. They will attack at sunset. As for me, I will follow the Kanes into the Duat and deal with them personally. You, my lord, should stay here and rest. I will send a scryer to your quarters so you may observe our progress.”
“‘Stay here,’” Desjardins quoted bitterly. “‘And observe.’”
Menshikov bowed. “We will save the House of Life. I swear it. The Kanes will be destroyed, the gods put back into exile. Ma’at will be restored.”
I hoped Desjardins would come to his senses and call off the attack. Instead, his shoulders slumped. He turned his back on Menshikov and stared at the empty throne of the pharaoh.
“Go,” he said wearily. “Get those creatures out of my sight.”
Menshikov smiled. “My lord.”