The Throne of Fire (Kane Chronicles #2)(30)

“Yes, well, if I survive the night, I’ll be sure to take this razor and open someone’s mouth. Thanks ever so much.”

Liz screamed, “Sadie!” Through the mist of the graveyard, I saw Babi a few blocks away, lumbering toward the church. He’d spotted us.

“Take the Underground,” Anubis suggested, pulling me to my feet. “There’s a station half a block south. They won’t be able to track you very well below the earth. Running water is also good. Creatures of the Duat are weakened by crossing a river. If you must battle them, find a bridge over the Thames. Oh, and I told your driver to come get you.”

“My driver?”

“Yes. He wasn’t planning to meet you until tomorrow, but—”

A red Royal Mail box hurtled through the air and smashed into the building next door. My friends screamed at me to hurry.

“Go,” Anubis said. “I’m sorry I can’t do more. But happy birthday, Sadie.”

He leaned forward and kissed me on the lips. Then he melted into mist and disappeared. The graveyard became normal again—part of the regular, unshimmery world.

I should’ve been very cross with Anubis. Kissing me without permission—the nerve! But I stood there, paralyzed, staring at Beatrice’s crumbling sarcophagus, until Emma yelled, “Sadie, come on!”

My friends grabbed my arms, and I remembered how to run.

We bolted for the Canary Wharf tube station. The baboon roared and smashed through traffic behind us. Overhead, Nekhbet shrieked, “There they go! Kill them!”

“Who was that boy?” Emma demanded as we plunged into the station. “God, he was hot.”

“A god,” I muttered. “Yes.”

I slipped the black razor into my pocket and clambered down the escalator, my lips still tingling from my first kiss.

And if I was humming “Happy Birthday” and smiling stupidly as I fled for my life—well, that was nobody’s business, was it?

8. Major Delays at Waterloo Station (We Apologize for the Giant Baboon)

THE LONDON UNDERGROUND has lovely acoustics. Sound echoed through the tunnels, so as we descended I could hear the rush of the trains, the musicians playing for coins, and of course the killer baboon god roaring for blood as he pulverized the turnstiles behind us.

What with terrorism threats and stepped-up security, one might’ve expected a few police to be on hand; but sadly not this time of evening, not at such a relatively small station. Sirens wailed from the street above, but we’d be dead or long gone by the time mortal help arrived. And if the police did try to shoot Babi while he possessed Gramps’s body—no. I forced myself not to think about that.

Anubis had suggested traveling underground. And if I had to fight, I should find a bridge. I had to stick with that plan.

There wasn’t much choice of trains at Canary Wharf. Thankfully, the Jubilee Line was running on time. We made it to the platform, jumped aboard the last carriage as the doors were closing, and collapsed on a bench.

The train lurched away into the dark tunnel. Behind us, I saw no sign of Babi or Nekhbet chasing us.

“Sadie Kane,” Emma gasped. “Will you please tell us what’s going on?”

My poor friends. I’d never gotten them into this much trouble, not even when we got shut in the boys’ changing room at school. (Long story, which involved a five quid bet, Dylan Quinn’s knickers, and a squirrel. Perhaps I’ll tell you later.)

Emma’s feet were cut and blistered from running barefoot. Her pink jumper looked like mangled poodle fur, and her glasses had lost several rhinestones.

Liz’s face was red as a valentine. She’d taken off her denim jacket, which she never does, as she’s always cold. Her white top was blotted with sweat. Her arms were so freckly, they reminded me of Nut the sky goddess’s constellation skin.

Of the two, Emma looked more annoyed, waiting for my explanation. Liz looked horrified, her mouth moving as if she wanted to speak but had lost her vocal cords. I thought she’d make some comment about the bloodthirsty gods chasing us, but when she finally found her voice, she said, “That boy kissed you!”

Leave it to Liz to have her priorities straight.

“I will explain,” I promised. “I know I’m a horrible friend for dragging you both into this. But please, give me a moment. I need to concentrate.”

“Concentrate on what?” Emma demanded.

“Emma, hush!” Liz chided. “She said to let her concentrate.” I closed my eyes, trying to calm my nerves.

It wasn’t easy, especially with an audience. Without my supplies, however, I was defenseless, and I wasn’t likely to get another chance to retrieve them. I thought: You can do this, Sadie. It’s only reaching into another dimension. Only ripping a tear in the fabric of reality.

I reached out. Nothing happened. I tried again, and my hand disappeared into the Duat. Liz shrieked. Fortunately, I didn’t lose my concentration (or my hand). My fingers closed around the strap of my magic bag, and I pulled it free.

Emma’s eyes widened. “That’s brilliant. How did you do that?”

I was wondering the same thing, actually. Given the circumstances, I couldn’t believe I’d managed it on just my second try.

“It’s, um…magic,” I said.

My mates stared at me, mystified and scared, and the enormity of my problems suddenly came crashing down on me.