The Throne of Fire (Kane Chronicles #2)(104)

“This is what it looks like to the Ancient Egyptians,” Dad said, as if reading my thoughts. “But each soul sees Aaru slightly differently.”

“Like our house in L.A.?” I asked. “Our family back together around a dining table? Is this even real?”

Dad’s eyes turned sad, the way they used to whenever I’d ask about Mom’s death.

“The birthday cake is good, eh?” he asked. “My little girl, thirteen. I can’t believe—”

Sadie swept her plate off the table. It shattered against the stone floor. “What does it matter?” she shouted. “The bloody sundial—the stupid gates—we failed!”

She buried her face in her arms and began to sob.

“Sadie.” Mom hovered next to her like a friendly fog bank. “It’s all right.”

“Moon pie,” Ra said helpfully, a beard of cake frosting smeared around his mouth. He started to fall out of his chair, and Bes pushed him back into place.

“Sadie’s right,” I said. “Ra’s in worse shape than we imagined. Even if we could get him back to the mortal world, he could never defeat Apophis—unless Apophis laughs to death.”

Dad frowned. “Carter, he is still Ra, pharaoh of the gods. Show some respect.”

“Don’t like bubbles!” Ra swatted at a glowing servant light that was trying to wipe his mouth.

“Lord Ra,” Dad said, “do you remember me? I’m Osiris. You dined here at my table every night, resting before your journey toward the dawn. Do you recall?”

“Want a weasel,” Ra said.

Sadie slapped the table. “What does that even mean?”

Bes scooped up a fistful of chocolate-covered things—I was afraid they might be grasshoppers—and tossed them into his mouth. “We haven’t finished the Book of Ra. We’d need to find Khepri.”

Dad stroked his goatee. “Yes, the scarab god, Ra’s form as the rising sun. Perhaps if you found Khepri, Ra could be fully reborn. But you would need to pass through the gates of the Eighth House.”

“Which are closed,” I said. “We’d have to, like, reverse time.”

Bes stopped munching grasshoppers. His eyes widened like he’d just had a revelation. He looked at my dad incredulously. “Him? You invited him?”

“Who?” I asked. “What do you mean?”

I stared at my dad, but he wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“Dad, what is it?” I demanded. “There’s a way through the gates? Can you teleport us to the other side or something?”

“I wish I could, Carter. But the journey must be followed. It is part of Ra’s rebirth. I can’t interfere with that. However, you’re right: you need extra time. There might be a way, though I’d never suggest it if the stakes weren’t so high—”

“It’s dangerous,” our mom warned. “I think it’s too dangerous.”

“What’s too dangerous?” Sadie asked.

“Me, I suppose,” said a voice behind me.

I turned and found a man standing with his hands on the back of my chair. Either he’d approached so silently, I hadn’t heard him, or he’d materialized out of thin air.

He looked about twenty, thin and tall and kind of glamorous. His face was totally human, but his irises were silver. His head was shaven except for a glossy black ponytail on one side of his head, like Ancient Egyptian youth used to wear. His silvery suit looked to have been tailored in Italy (I only know that because Amos and my dad both paid a lot of attention to suits). The fabric shimmered like some bizarre mix of silk and aluminum foil. His shirt was black and collarless, and several pounds of platinum chains hung around his neck. The biggest piece of bling was a silver crescent amulet. When his fingers drummed on the back of my chair, his rings and platinum Rolex flashed. If I’d seen him in the mortal world, I might’ve guessed he was a young Native American billionaire casino owner. But here in the Duat, with that crescent-shaped amulet around his neck…

“Moon pie!” Ra cackled with delight.

“You’re Khonsu,” I guessed. “The moon god.”

He gave me a wolfish grin, looking at me as if I were an appetizer.

“At your service,” he said. “Care to play a game?”

“Not you,” Bes growled.

Khonsu spread his arms in a big air hug. “Bes, old buddy! How’ve you been?”

“Don’t ‘old buddy’ me, you scam artist.”

“I’m hurt!” Khonsu sat down on my right and leaned toward me conspiratorially. “Poor Bes gambled with me ages ago, you see. He wanted more time with Bast. He wagered a few feet of his height. I’m afraid he lost.”

“That’s not what happened!” Bes roared.

“Gentlemen,” my father said in his sternest Dad tone. “You are both guests at my table. I won’t have any fighting.”

“Absolutely, Osiris.” Khonsu beamed at him. “I’m honored to be here. And these are your famous children? Wonderful! Are you ready to play, kids?”

“Julius, they don’t understand the risks,” our mother protested. “We can’t let them do this.”

“Hang on,” Sadie said. “Do what, exactly?”