The Serpent's Shadow (Kane Chronicles #3)(70)

“It worked,” he said.

Wonderful Walt!

I kissed him properly—or as properly as possible given our situation. There was a sweet smell about him I hadn’t noticed before, as if he’d been eating lotus blossoms. I imagined that old school rhyme: “Walt and Sadie / sitting in a tree / K-I-S-S-I-N-G.” Fortunately, anyone who might tease me was still five thousand years in the future.

Walt took a deep breath. “Is that a thank-you?”

“You look better,” I noticed. His eyes weren’t as yellow. He seemed to be moving with less pain. This should have delighted me, but instead it made me worried. “That lotus smell…did you drink something?”

“I’m okay.” He looked away from me. “We’d better split up and try again.”

That didn’t make me any less worried, but he was right. We had no time to chat. We both jumped to the ground and headed off in opposite directions.

The sun was almost touching the horizon. I began to feel hopeful. Surely we wouldn’t have to hold out much longer.

I almost stumbled into another macramé net, but fortunately I was on the lookout for Neith’s arts and crafts projects. I sidestepped the trap, pushed through a stand of papyrus plants, and found myself back at Neith’s temple.

The golden gates stood open. The wide avenue of sphinxes led straight into the complex. No guards…no priests. Maybe Neith had killed them all and collected their pockets, or perhaps they were all down in the bunker, preparing for a zombie invasion.

Hmm. I reckoned that the last place Neith might look for me was in her home base. Besides, Tawaret had seen Bes’s shadow up on those ramparts. If I could find the shadow without Neith’s help, all the better.

I ran for the gates, keeping a suspicious eye on the sphinxes. None of them came alive. Inside the massive courtyard were two freestanding obelisks tipped with gold. Between them glowered a statue of Neith in Ancient Egyptian garb. Shields and arrows had been piled around her feet like spoils of war.

I scanned the surrounding walls. Several stairways led up to the ramparts. The setting sun cast plenty of long shadows, but I didn’t see any obvious dwarf silhouettes. Tawaret had suggested I call to the shadow. I was about to try when I heard Walt’s voice in my mind: Sadie!

It’s awfully hard to concentrate when someone’s life depends on you.

I grasped the shen amulet and muttered, “Come on. Come on.”

I pictured Walt standing next to me, preferably without an arrow in him. I blinked—and there he was. He almost knocked me down with a hug.

“She—she would’ve killed me,” Walt gasped. “But she wanted to talk first. She said she liked our trick. She was proud to slay us and take our pockets.”

“Super,” I said. “Split up again?”

Walt glanced over my shoulder. “Sadie, look.”

He pointed to the northwest corner of the walls, where a tower jutted from the ramparts. As the sky turned red, shadows slowly melted from the side of the tower, but one shadow remained—the silhouette of a stout little man with frizzy hair.

I’m afraid we forgot our plan. Together, we ran to the steps and climbed the wall. In no time, we were standing on the parapets, staring at the shadow of Bes.

I realized we must have been in the exact spot where Tawaret and Bes had held hands on the night Tawaret had described. Bes had told the truth—he’d left his shadow here so it could be happy, even when he wasn’t.

“Oh, Bes…” My heart felt like it was shrinking into a wax shabti. “Walt, how do we capture it?”

A voice behind us said, “You don’t.”

We turned. A few meters away, Neith stood on the ramparts. Two arrows were nocked in her bow. At this range, I imagined she’d have no trouble hitting us both at once.

“A good try,” she admitted. “But I always win the hunt.”

14. Fun with Split Personalities

AN EXCELLENT TIME TO CALL ON ISIS?

Perhaps. But even if Isis had answered, I doubted I could summon any magic faster than Neith could shoot. And on the off chance I actually defeated the huntress, I had the feeling Neith would consider it cheating if I used another goddess’s power against her. She’d probably decide I was part of the Russian/zombie/tax collector conspiracy.

As mad as Neith was, we needed her help. She’d be much more useful shooting arrows at Apophis than sitting in her bunker making jackets out of our pockets and knotted twine.

My mind raced. How to win over a hunter? I didn’t know much about hunters, except for old Major McNeil, Gramps’s friend from the pensioners’ home, who used to tell stories constantly about…Ah.

“It’s a shame, really,” I blurted out.

Neith hesitated, as I’d hoped she would.

“What is?” she asked.

“Six edible parts of a palm tree.” I laughed. “It’s seven actually.”

Neith frowned. “Impossible!”

“Oh, yes?” I raised my eyebrows. “Have you ever lived off the land in Covent Garden? Have you ever trekked through the wilds of Camden Lock and lived to tell about it?”

Neith’s bow dipped ever so slightly. “I do not know those places.”

“I thought not!” I said triumphantly. “Oh, the stories we could’ve shared, Neith. The tips for survival. Once I went for a whole week on nothing but stale biscuits and the juice of the Ribena.”