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Chapter no 11 – We Meet the Human Flamethrower

The Red Pyramid

RIGHT, Iโ€™M TAKING THE MICROPHONE.ย There is no chance Carter would tell this part properly, as itโ€™s about Zia. [Shut up, Carter. You know itโ€™s true.]

Oh, who is Zia? Sorry, getting ahead of myself.

We raced to the entrance of the museum, and I had no idea why, except that a giant glowing cat woman had told us to. Now, you must realize I was already devastated by everything that had happened. First, Iโ€™d lost my father. Second, my loving grandparents had kicked me out of the flat. Then Iโ€™d discovered I was apparently โ€œblood of the pharaohs,โ€ born to a magical family, and all sorts of rubbish that sounded quite impressive but only brought me loads of trouble. And as soon as Iโ€™d found a new homeโ€”a mansion with proper breakfast and friendly pets and quite a nice room for me, by the wayโ€” Uncle Amos disappeared, my lovely new crocodile and baboon friends were tossed in a river, and the mansion was set on fire. And if that wasnโ€™t enough, my faithful cat Muffin had decided to engage in a hopeless battle with a swarm of scorpions.

Do you call it a โ€œswarmโ€ for scorpions? A herd? A gaggle? Oh, never mind.

The point is I couldnโ€™t believe Iโ€™d been asked to open a magic doorway when clearly I had no such skill, and now my brother was dragging me away. I felt like an utter failure. [And no comments from you, Carter. As I recall, you werenโ€™t much help at the time, either.]

โ€œWe canโ€™t just leave Bast!โ€ I shouted. โ€œLook!โ€

Carter kept running, dragging me along, but I could see quite clearly what was happening back at the obelisk. A mass of scorpions had crawled up Bastโ€™s glowing green legs and were wriggling into the hologram like it was gelatin. Bast smashed hundreds of them with her feet and fists, but there were simply too many. Soon they were up to her waist, and her ghostly shell began to flicker. Meanwhile, the brown-robed goddess advanced slowly, and I had a feeling she would be worse than any number of scorpions.

Carter pulled me through a row of bushes and I lost sight of Bast. We burst onto Fifth Avenue, which seemed ridiculously normal after the magic

battle. We ran down the sidewalk, shoved through a knot of pedestrians, and climbed the steps of the Met.

A banner above the entrance announced some sort of special Christmas event, which I suppose is why the museum was open on a holiday, but I didnโ€™t bother reading the details. We pushed straight inside.

What did it look like? Well, it was a museum: huge entry hall, lots of columns and so on. I canโ€™t claim I spent much time admiring the decor. I do remember it had queues for the ticket windows, because we ran right past them. There were also security guards, because they yelled at us as we dashed into the exhibits. By luck, we ended up in the Egyptian area, in front of a reconstructed tomb sort of place with narrow corridors. Carter probably couldโ€™ve told you what the structure was supposed to be, but honestly I didnโ€™t care.

โ€œCome on,โ€ I said.

We slipped inside the exhibit, which proved quite enough to lose the security guards, or perhaps they had better things to do than pursue naughty children.

When we popped out again, we sneaked around until we were sure we werenโ€™t being followed. The Egypt wing wasnโ€™t crowdedโ€”just a few clumps of old people and a foreign tour group with a guide explaining a sarcophagus in French. โ€œEt voici la momie!โ€

Strangely, no one seemed to notice the enormous sword on Carterโ€™s back, which surely mustโ€™ve been a security issue (and much more interesting than the exhibits). A few old people did give us odd looks, but I suspect that was because we were dressed in linen pajamas, drenched in sweat, and covered in grass and leaves. My hair was probably a nightmare as well.

I found an empty room and pulled Carter aside. The glass cases were full of shabti. A few days earlier I wouldnโ€™t have given them a second thought. Now, I kept glancing at the statues, sure theyโ€™d come to life any minute and try to bash me on the head.

โ€œWhat now?โ€ I asked Carter. โ€œDid you see any temple?โ€

โ€œNo.โ€ He knit his eyebrows as if trying hard to remember. โ€œI think thereโ€™s a rebuilt temple down that hall…or is that in the Brooklyn Museum? Maybe the one in Munich? Sorry, Iโ€™ve been to so many museums with Dad that they all get mixed together.โ€

I sighed in exasperation. โ€œPoor boy, forced to travel the world, skip school, and spend time with Dad while I get a whole two days a year with him!โ€

โ€œHey!โ€ Carter turned on me with surprising force. โ€œYou get a home! You get friends and a normal life and donโ€™t wake up each morning wondering what country youโ€™re in! You donโ€™tโ€”โ€

The glass case next to us shattered, spraying glass at our feet.

Carter looked at me, bewildered. โ€œDid we justโ€”โ€

โ€œLike my exploding birthday cake,โ€ I grumbled, trying not to let on how startled I was. โ€œYou need to control your temper.โ€

โ€œMe?โ€

Alarms began to blare. Red lights pulsed through the corridor. A garbled voice came on the loudspeaker and said something about proceeding calmly to the exits. The French tour group ran past us, screaming in panic, followed by a crowd of remarkably fast old people with walkers and canes.

โ€œLetโ€™s finish arguing later, shall we?โ€ I told Carter. โ€œCome on!โ€

We ran down another corridor, and the sirens died as suddenly as theyโ€™d started. The blood-red lights kept pulsing in eerie silence. Then I heard it: the slithering, clacking sounds of scorpions.

โ€œWhat about Bast?โ€ My voice choked up. โ€œIs sheโ€”โ€

โ€œDonโ€™t think about it,โ€ Carter said, though, judging from his face, thatโ€™s exactly what he was thinking about. โ€œKeep moving!โ€

Soon we were hopelessly lost. As far as I could tell, the Egyptian part of the museum was designed to be as confusing as possible, with dead ends and halls that doubled back on themselves. We passed hieroglyphic scrolls, gold jewelry, sarcophagi, statues of pharaohs, and huge chunks of limestone. Why would someone display a rock? Arenโ€™t there enough of those in the world?

We saw no one, but the slithering sounds grew louder no matter which way we ran. Finally I rounded a corner and smacked straight into someone.

I yelped and scrambled backwards, only to stumble into Carter. We both fell on our bums in a most unflattering way. Itโ€™s a miracle Carter didnโ€™t impale himself on his own sword.

At first I didnโ€™t recognize the girl standing in front of us, which seems strange, looking back on it. Perhaps she was using some sort of magic aura, or perhaps I just didnโ€™t want to believe it was her.

She looked a bit taller than me. Probably older, too, but not by much. Her black hair was trimmed along her jawline and longer in the front so that it swept over her eyes. She had caramel-colored skin and pretty, vaguely Arab features. Her eyesโ€”lined in black kohl, Egyptian styleโ€”were a strange amber color that was either quite beautiful or a bit scary; I couldnโ€™t decide which. She had a backpack on her shoulder, and wore sandals and loose- fitting linen clothes like ours. She looked as if she were on her way to a martial arts class. God, now that I think of it, we probably looked the same way. How embarrassing.

I slowly began to realize Iโ€™d seen her before. She was the girl with the knife from the British Museum. Before I could say anything, Carter sprang to his feet. He moved in front of me and brandished his sword as if trying to protect me. Can you believe the nerve?

โ€œGetโ€”get back!โ€ he stammered.

The girl reached into her sleeve and produced a curved white piece of ivoryโ€”an Egyptian wand.

She flicked it to one side, and Carterโ€™s sword flew out of his hands and clattered to the floor.

โ€œDonโ€™t embarrass yourself,โ€ the girl said sternly. โ€œWhere is Amos?โ€

Carter looked too stunned to speak. The girl turned towards me. Her golden eyes were both beautiful and scary, I decided, and I didnโ€™t like her a bit.

โ€œWell?โ€ she demanded.

I didnโ€™t see why I needed to tell her a bloody thing, but an uncomfortable pressure started building in my chest, like a burp trying to get free. I heard myself say, โ€œAmos is gone. He left this morning.โ€

โ€œAnd the cat demon?โ€

โ€œThatโ€™s my cat,โ€ I said. โ€œAnd sheโ€™s a goddess, not a demon. She saved us from the scorpions!โ€

Carter unfroze. He snatched up his sword and pointed it at the girl again.

Full credit for persistence, I suppose.

โ€œWho are you?โ€ he demanded. โ€œWhat do you want?โ€

โ€œMy name is Zia Rashid.โ€ She tilted her head as if listening.

Right on cue, the entire building rumbled. Dust sprinkled from the ceiling, and the slithering sounds of scorpions doubled in volume behind us.

โ€œAnd right now,โ€ Zia continued, sounding a bit disappointed, โ€œI must save your miserable lives. Letโ€™s go.โ€

I suppose we couldโ€™ve refused, but our choices seemed to be Zia or the scorpions, so we ran after her.

She passed a case full of statues and casually tapped the glass with her wand. Tiny granite pharaohs and limestone gods stirred at her command. They hopped off their pedestals and crashed through the glass. Some wielded weapons. Others simply cracked their stone knuckles. They let us pass, but stared down the corridor behind us as if waiting for the enemy.

โ€œHurry,โ€ Zia told us. โ€œThese will onlyโ€”โ€

โ€œBuy us time,โ€ I guessed. โ€œYes, weโ€™ve heard that before.โ€ โ€œYou talk too much,โ€ Zia said without stopping.

I was about to make a withering retort. Honestly, I wouldโ€™ve put her in her place quite properly. But just then we emerged into an enormous room and my voice abandoned me.

โ€œWhoa,โ€ Carter said.

I couldnโ€™t help agreeing with him. The place was extremely whoa.

The room was the size of a football stadium. One wall was made completely of glass and looked out on the park. In the middle of the room, on

a raised platform, an ancient building had been reconstructed. There was a freestanding stone gateway about eight meters tall, and behind that an open courtyard and square structure made of uneven sandstone blocks carved all over on the outside with images of gods and pharaohs and hieroglyphs. Flanking the buildingโ€™s entrance were two columns bathed in eerie light.

โ€œAn Egyptian temple,โ€ I guessed.

โ€œThe Temple of Dendur,โ€ Zia said. โ€œActually it was built by the Romans

โ€”โ€

โ€œWhen they occupied Egypt,โ€ Carter said, like this was delightful

information. โ€œAugustus commissioned it.โ€ โ€œYes,โ€ Zia said.

โ€œFascinating,โ€ I murmured. โ€œWould you two like to be left alone with a history textbook?โ€

Zia scowled at me. โ€œAt any rate, the temple was dedicated to Isis, so it will have enough power to open a gate.โ€

โ€œTo summon more gods?โ€ I asked.

Ziaโ€™s eyes flashed angrily. โ€œAccuse me of that again, and I will cut out your tongue. I meant a gateway to get you out of here.โ€

I felt completely lost, but I was getting used to that. We followed Zia up the steps and through the templeโ€™s stone gateway.

The courtyard was empty, abandoned by the fleeing museum visitors, which made it feel quite creepy. Giant carvings of gods stared down at me. Hieroglyphic inscriptions were everywhere, and I was afraid that if I concentrated too hard, I might be able to read them.

Zia stopped at the front steps of the temple. She held up her wand and wrote in the air. A familiar hieroglyph burned between the columns.

image

Openโ€”the same symbol Dad had used at the Rosetta Stone. I waited for something to blow up, but the hieroglyph simply faded.

Zia opened her backpack. โ€œWeโ€™ll make our stand here until the gate can be opened.โ€

โ€œWhy not just open it now?โ€ Carter asked.

โ€œPortals can only appear at auspicious moments,โ€ Zia said. โ€œSunrise, sunset, midnight, eclipses, astrological alignments, the exact time of a godโ€™s birthโ€”โ€

โ€œOh, come on,โ€ I said. โ€œHow can you possibly know all that?โ€

โ€œIt takes years to memorize the complete calendar,โ€ Zia said. โ€œBut the next auspicious moment is easy: high noon. Ten and a half minutes from now.โ€

She didnโ€™t check a watch. I wondered how she knew the time so

precisely, but I decided it wasnโ€™t the most important question.

โ€œWhy should we trust you?โ€ I asked. โ€œAs I recall, at the British Museum, you wanted to gut us with a knife.โ€

โ€œThat wouldโ€™ve been simpler.โ€ Zia sighed. โ€œUnfortunately, my superiors think you might be innocents. So for now, I canโ€™t kill you. But I also canโ€™t allow you to fall into the hands of the Red Lord. And so…you can trust me.โ€

โ€œWell, Iโ€™m convinced,โ€ I said. โ€œI feel all warm and fuzzy inside.โ€

Zia reached in her bag and took out four little statuesโ€”animal-headed men, each about five centimeters tall. She handed them to me. โ€œPut the Sons of Horus around us at the cardinal points.โ€

โ€œExcuse me?โ€

โ€œNorth, south, east, west.โ€ She spoke slowly, as if I were an idiot. โ€œI know compass directions! Butโ€”โ€

โ€œThatโ€™s north.โ€ Zia pointed out the wall of glass. โ€œFigure out the rest.โ€

I did what she asked, though I didnโ€™t see how the little men would help. Meanwhile, Zia gave Carter a piece of chalk and told him to draw a circle around us, connecting the statues.

โ€œMagic protection,โ€ Carter said. โ€œLike what Dad did at the British Museum.โ€

โ€œYes,โ€ I grumbled. โ€œAnd we saw how well that worked.โ€

Carter ignored me. What else is new? He was so eager to please Zia that he jumped right to the task of drawing his sidewalk art.

Then Zia took something else from her bagโ€”a plain wooden rod like the one our dad had used in London. She spoke a word under her breath, and the rod expanded into a two-meter-long black staff topped with a carved lionโ€™s head. She twirled it around single-handedly like a batonโ€”just showing off, I was sureโ€”while holding the wand in her other hand.

Carter finished the chalk circle as the first scorpions appeared at the galleryโ€™s entrance.

โ€œHow much longer on that gate?โ€ I asked, hoping I didnโ€™t sound as terrified as I felt.

โ€œStay inside the circle no matter what,โ€ Zia said. โ€œWhen the gate opens, jump through. And keep behind me!โ€

She touched her wand to the chalk circle, spoke another word, and the circle began to glow dark red.

Hundreds of scorpions swarmed towards the temple, turning the floor into a living mass of claws and stingers. Then the woman in brown, Serqet, entered the gallery. She smiled at us coldly.

โ€œZia,โ€ I said, โ€œthatโ€™s a goddess. She defeated Bast. What chance do you have?โ€

Zia held up her staff and the carved lionโ€™s head burst into flamesโ€”a small red fireball so bright, it lit the entire room. โ€œI am a scribe in the House

of Life, Sadie Kane. I am trained to fight gods.โ€

โ€ŒS A D I E

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