The Red Pyramid (Kane Chronicles #1)(114)

Zia looked completely stunned. “No. That’s impossible.”

“Iskandar said you were in danger. He wanted to take you somewhere safe. That’s what he meant. You’re a godling.”

She shook her head stubbornly. “But he didn’t take me away. I’m right here. If I were hosting a god, the other magicians of the House would’ve figured it out days ago. They know me too well. They would’ve noticed the changes in my magic. Desjardins would’ve destroyed me.”

She had a point—but then another terrible thought occurred to me. “Unless Set is controlling him,” I said.

“Carter, are you really so blind? Desjardins is not Set.”

“Because you think it’s Amos,” I said. “Amos who risked his life to save us, who told us to keep going without him. Besides, Set doesn’t need a human form. He’s using the pyramid.”

“Which you know because...?”

I hesitated. “Amos told us.”

“This is getting us nowhere,” Zia said. “I know Set’s secret name, and I can tell you. But you must promise you will not tell Amos.”

“Oh, come on. Besides, if you know the name, why can’t you just use it yourself?”

She shook her head, looking almost as frustrated as I felt. “I don’t know why....I just know it’s not my role to play. It must be you or Sadie—blood of the pharaohs. If you don’t—”

The truck slowed abruptly. Out the front windshield, about twenty yards ahead, a man in a blue coat was standing in our headlights. It was Amos. His clothes were tattered like he’d been sprayed with a shotgun, but otherwise he looked okay. Before the truck had even stopped completely, I jumped out of the cab and ran to meet him.

“Amos!” I cried. “What happened?”

“I distracted Sekhmet,” he said, putting a finger through one of the holes in his coat. “For about eleven seconds. I’m glad to see you survived.”

“There was a salsa factory,” I started to explain, but Amos held up his hand.

“Time for explanations later,” he said. “Right now we have to get going.”

He pointed northwest, and I saw what he meant. The storm was worse up ahead. A lot worse. A wall of black blotted out the night sky, the mountains, the highway, as if it would swallow the whole world.

“Set’s storm is gathering,” Amos said with a twinkle in his eyes. “Shall we drive into it?”

Chapter 35. Men Ask for Directions (and Other Signs of the Apocalypse)

I DON’T KNOW HOW I MANAGED IT with Carter and Zia yammering, but I got some sleep in the back of the truck. Even after the excitement of seeing Amos alive, as soon as we got going again I was back in the bunk and drifting off. I suppose a good ha-di spell can really take it out of you.

Naturally, my ba took this as an opportunity to travel. Heaven forbid I get some peaceful rest.

I found myself back in London, on the banks of the Thames. Cleopatra’s Needle rose up in front of me. It was a gray day, cool and calm, and even the smell of the low-tide muck made me feel homesick.

Isis stood next to me in a cloud-white dress, her dark hair braided with diamonds. Her multicolored wings faded in and out behind her like the Northern Lights.

“Your parents had the right idea,” she said. “Bast was failing.”

“She was my friend,” I said.

“Yes. A good and loyal servant. But chaos cannot be kept down forever. It grows. It seeps into the cracks of civilization, breaks down the edges. It cannot be kept in balance. That is simply its nature.”

The obelisk rumbled, glowing faintly.

“Today it is the American continent,” Isis mused. “But unless the gods are rallied, unless we achieve our full strength, chaos will soon destroy the entire human world.”

“We’re doing our best,” I insisted. “We’ll beat Set.”

Isis looked at me sadly. “You know that’s not what I mean. Set is only the beginning.”

The image changed, and I saw London in ruins. I’d seen some horrific photos of the Blitz in World War II, but that was nothing compared to this. The city was leveled: rubble and dust for miles, the Thames choked with flotsam. The only thing standing was the obelisk, and as I watched, it began to crack open, all four sides peeling away like some ghastly flower unfolding.

“Don’t show me this,” I pleaded.

“It will happen soon enough,” Isis said, “as your mother foresaw. But if you cannot face it...”

The scene changed again. We stood in the throne room of a palace—the same one I’d seen before, where Set had entombed Osiris. The gods were gathering, materializing as streams of light that shot through the throne room, curled round the pillars, and took on human form. One became Thoth with his stained lab coat, his wire-rimmed glasses, and his hair standing out all over his head. Another became Horus, the proud young warrior with silver and gold eyes. Sobek, the crocodile god, gripped his watery staff and snarled at me. A mass of scorpions scuttled behind a column and emerged on the other side as Serqet, the brown-robed arachnid goddess. Then my heart leaped, because I noticed a boy in black standing in the shadows behind the throne: Anubis, his dark eyes studying me with regret.

He pointed at the throne, and I saw it was empty. The palace was missing its heart. The room was cold and dark, and it was impossible to believe this had once been a place of celebrations.