The Throne of Fire (Kane Chronicles #2)(111)

The Book of Ra vanished in a flash. The ground rumbled, and from the mass of dead shells, a single scarab rose into the air, a living golden beetle that floated toward Sadie and came to rest in her hands.

Sadie smiled triumphantly. I almost dared to hope we’d won. Then hissing laughter filled the cavern. Desjardins lost control of his whirlwind, and the Chief Lector went flying toward the sun boat, slamming into the prow so hard he broke the rail and lay absolutely still.

Vladimir Menshikov dropped to the ground, landing in a crouch. Around his feet, the dead scarab shells dissolved, turning into bloodred sand.

“Brilliant,” he said. “Brilliant, Sadie Kane!”

He stood, and all the magical energy in the cavern seemed to race toward his body—golden mist, red light, glowing hieroglyphs—all of it collapsing into Menshikov as if he’d taken on the gravity of a black hole.

His ruined eyes healed. His blistered face became smooth, young, and handsome. His white suit mended itself, then the fabric turned dark red. His skin rippled, and I realized with a chill that he was growing snake scales.

On the sun boat, Ra muttered, “Oh, noes. Need zebras.”

The entire beach turned to red sand.

Menshikov held out his hand to my sister. “Give me the scarab, Sadie. I will have mercy on you. You and your brother will live. Walt will live.”

Sadie clutched the scarab. I got ready to charge. Even in the body of a giant hawk warrior, I could feel the Chaos energy getting stronger and stronger, sapping my strength. Menshikov had warned us that no mortal could survive this cavern, and I believed him. We didn’t have much time, but we had to stop Apophis. In the back of my mind, I accepted the fact that I would die. I was acting now for the sake of our friends, for the Kane family, for the whole mortal world.

“You want the scarab, Apophis?” Sadie’s voice was full of loathing. “Then come and get it, you disgusting—” She called Apophis some words so bad, Gran would’ve washed her mouth out with soap for a year. [And no, Sadie, I’m not going to say them into the microphone.]

Menshikov stepped toward her. I picked up a shovel one of the demons had dropped. Sadie’s giant kite flew at Menshikov, its talons poised to strike, but Menshikov flicked his hand like he was shooing away a fly. The monster dissolved into cloud of feathers.

“Do you take me for a god?” Menshikov roared.

As he focused on Sadie, I skirted behind him, doing my best to sneak closer—which is not easy when you’re a fifteen-foot-tall birdman.

“I am Chaos itself!” Menshikov bellowed. “I will unknit your bones, dissolve your soul, and send you back to the primordial ooze you came from. Now, give me the scarab!”

“Tempting,” Sadie said. “What do you think, Carter?”

Menshikov realized the trap too late. I lunged forward and hit him upside the head with the shovel. Menshikov crumpled. I body-slammed him into the sand, then stood up and stomped him in a little deeper. I buried him as best I could, then Sadie pointed at his burial site and spoke the glyph for fire. The sand melted, hardening into a coffin-size block of solid glass.

I would’ve spit on it, too, but I wasn’t sure I could do that with a falcon beak.

The surviving demons did the sensible thing. They fled in panic. A few jumped into the river and let themselves dissolve, which was a real time-saver for us.

“That wasn’t so hard,” Sadie said, though I could tell the Chaos energy was starting to wear her down, too. Even when she was five and had pneumonia, I don’t think she looked this bad.

“Hurry,” I said. My adrenaline was fading quickly. My avatar form was starting to feel like an extra five hundred pounds of dead weight. “Get the scarab to Ra.”

She nodded, and ran toward the sun boat; but she’d only made it halfway when Menshikov’s glass grave blew up.

The most powerful explosive magic I’d ever seen was Sadie’s ha-di spell. This blast was about fifty times more powerful.

A high-powered wave of sand and glass shards knocked me off my feet and shredded my avatar. Back in my regular body, blind and in pain, I crawled away from the laughing voice of Apophis.

“Where did you go, Sadie Kane?” Apophis called, his voice now as deep as a cannon shot. “Where is that bad little girl with my scarab?”

I blinked the sand out of my eyes. Vlad Menshikov—no, he might look like Vlad, but he was Apophis now—was about fifty feet away, stalking around the rim of the crater he’d made in the beach. He either didn’t see me, or he assumed I was dead. He was looking for Sadie, but she was nowhere. The blast must’ve buried her in the sand, or worse.

My throat closed up. I wanted to get to my feet and tackle Apophis, but my body wouldn’t work. My magic was depleted. The power of Chaos was sapping my life force. Just from being near Apophis I felt like I was coming undone—my brain synapses, my DNA, everything that made me Carter Kane was slowly dissolving.

Finally, Apophis spread his arms. “No matter. I’ll dig your body up later. First, I’ll deal with the old man.”

For a second I thought he meant Desjardins, who was still crumpled lifelessly over the broken railing, but Apophis climbed into the boat, ignoring the Chief Lector, and approached the throne of fire.

“Hello, Ra,” he said in a kindly voice. “It’s been a long time.”

A feeble voice from behind the chair said, “Can’t play. Go away.”