The Red Pyramid (Kane Chronicles #1)(64)

We all must’ve been exhausted, because we didn’t talk again until we’d finished our food. I ate three sandwiches and drank two Cokes. Bast made the whole place smell like fish Friskies, then started licking her hand as if preparing for a cat bath.

“Could you not do that?” I asked. “It’s disturbing.”

“Oh.” She smiled. “Sorry.”

I closed my eyes and leaned against the wall. It felt good to rest, but I realized the room wasn’t actually quiet. The entire building seemed to be humming ever so slightly, sending a tremble through my skull that made my teeth buzz. I opened my eyes and sat up. I could still feel it.

“What is that?” I asked. “The wind?”

“Magic energy,” Bast said. “I told you, this is a powerful monument.”

“But it’s modern. Like the Louvre pyramid. Why is it magic?”

“The Ancient Egyptians were excellent builders, Sadie. They picked shapes—obelisks, pyramids—that were charged with symbolic magic. An obelisk represents a sunbeam frozen in stone—a life-giving ray from the original king of the gods, Ra. It doesn’t matter when the structure was built: it is still Egyptian. That’s why any obelisk can be used for opening gates to the Duat, or releasing great beings of power—”

“Or trapping them,” I said. “The way you were trapped in Cleopatra’s Needle.”

Her expression darkened. “I wasn’t actually trapped in the obelisk. My prison was a magically created abyss deep in the Duat, and the obelisk was the door your parents used to release me. But, yes. All symbols of Egypt are concentrated nodes of magic power. So an obelisk can definitely be used to imprison gods.”

An idea was nagging at the back of my mind, but I couldn’t quite pin it down. Something about my mother, and Cleopatra’s Needle, and my father’s last promise in the British Museum: I’ll put things right.

Then I thought back to the Louvre, and the comment the magician had made. Bast looked so cross at the moment I was almost afraid to ask, but it was the only way I’d get an answer. “The magician said you abandoned your post. What did he mean?”

Carter frowned. “When was this?”

I told him what had happened after Bast chucked him through the portal.

Bast stacked her empty Friskies cans. She didn’t look eager to reply.

“When I was imprisoned,” she said at last, “I—I wasn’t alone. I was locked inside with a...creature of chaos.”

“Is that bad?” I asked.

Judging from Bast’s expression, the answer was yes. “Magicians often do this—lock a god up together with a monster so we have no time to try escaping our prison. For eons, I fought this monster. When your parents released me—”

“The monster got out?”

Bast hesitated a little too long for my taste.

“No. My enemy couldn’t have escaped.” She took a deep breath. “Your mother’s final act of magic sealed that gate. The enemy was still inside. But that’s what the magician meant. As far as he was concerned, my ‘post’ was battling that monster forever.”

It had the ring of truth, as if she were sharing a painful memory, but it didn’t explain the other bit the magician had said: She endangered us all. I was getting up the nerve to ask exactly what the monster had been, when Bast stood up.

“I should go scout,” she said abruptly. “I’ll be back.”

We listened to her footsteps echo down the stairwell.

“She’s hiding something,” Carter said.

“Work that out yourself, did you?” I asked.

He looked away, and immediately I felt bad.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s just...what are we going to do?”

“Rescue Dad. What else can we do?” He picked up his wand and turned it in his fingers. “Do you think he really meant to...you know, bring Mom back?”

I wanted to say yes. More than anything, I wanted to believe that was possible. But I found myself shaking my head. Something about it didn’t seem right. “Iskandar told me something about Mum,” I said. “She was a diviner. She could see the future. He said she made him rethink some old ideas.”

It was my first chance to tell Carter about my conversation with the old magician, so I gave him the details.

Carter knit his eyebrows. “You think that has something to do with why Mom died—she saw something in the future?”

“I don’t know.” I tried to think back to when I was six, but my memory was frustratingly fuzzy. “When they took us to England the last time, did she and Dad seemed like they were in a hurry—like they were doing something really important?”

“Definitely.”

“Would you say freeing Bast was really important? I mean—I love her, of course—but worth dying for important?”

Carter hesitated. “Probably not.”

“Well, there you are. I think Dad and Mum were up to something bigger, something they didn’t complete. Possibly that’s what Dad was after at the British Museum—completing the task, whatever it was. Making things right. And this whole business about our family going back a billion years to some god-hosting pharaohs—why didn’t anyone tell us? Why didn’t Dad?”