The Throne of Fire (Kane Chronicles #2)(47)

Set made a picture frame with his fingers, as if imagining that name on his driver’s license. “Yes…that is nice, isn’t it?”

The tjesu heru staggered to its feet. It shook both heads and glared at us, but it seemed to ignore Set, even though he was the one who’d slammed it against the wall.

“It has beautiful coloration, doesn’t it?” Set asked. “A gorgeous specimen.”

“Just kill it!” I yelled.

Set looked shocked. “Oh, I couldn’t do that! I’m much too fond of snakes. Besides, GETM would have my hide.”

“Get ’em?” I asked.

“Gods for the Ethical Treatment of Monsters.”

“You’re making that up!” I yelled.

Set grinned. “Still…I’m afraid you’ll have to deal with the tjesu heru on your own.”

The monster hissed at us, which probably meant, Sweet! I raised my sword to keep it at bay.

The pile of red sand shifted. Menshikov’s dazed face rose from the top. Set snapped his fingers, and a large ceramic pot appeared in the air, shattering on the magician’s head. Menshikov slipped back into the sand.

“I’ll stay here and entertain Vladimir,” Set said.

“Can’t you execrate him, or something?” Sadie demanded.

“Oh, I wish! Unfortunately, I’m rather limited when someone holds my secret name, especially when they’ve given me specific orders not to kill them.” He stared accusingly at Sadie. “At any rate, I may be able to buy you a few minutes, but Vlad is going to be quite mad when he comes around, so I’d hurry, if I were you. Good luck surviving! And good luck eating them, tjesu heru!”

I wanted to strangle Set, but we had bigger problems. As if encouraged by Set’s pep talk, the tjesu heru lunged at us. Sadie and I sprinted for the nearest door.

We ran through the Winter Palace with Set’s laughter echoing behind us.

11. Carter Does Something Incredibly Stupid (and No One Is Surprised)

I UNDERSTAND, CARTER. I do.

Have me narrate the most painful part. Of course, I can’t blame you. What happened was awful enough for me, but for you—well, I wouldn’t want to talk about it either.

There we were in the Winter Palace, racing down polished marble hallways that were not designed for running. Behind us, the two-headed tjesu heru skidded and slammed into walls as it tried to turn corners, much like Muffin used to do whenever Gran mopped the floor. That’s the only reason the monster didn’t catch us immediately.

Since we’d teleported into the Malachite Room, I had no idea where the nearest exit was. I wasn’t even sure if we were actually in the Winter Palace, or if Menshikov’s office was some clever facsimile that existed only in the Duat. I was beginning to think we’d never get out when we rounded a corner, scrambled down a staircase, and spotted a set of glass- and-iron doors leading out to Palace Square.

The tjesu heru was right behind us. It slipped and rolled down the staircase, demolishing a plaster statue of some unfortunate tsar.

We were ten meters from the exit when I saw the chains across the doors.

“Carter,” I gasped, waving helplessly at the padlock.

I hate to admit just how weak I felt. I didn’t have the strength for another spell. Cracking Set’s vase in the Malachite Room had been my last hurrah, which is a good example of why you shouldn’t use magic to solve all your problems. Summoning a Divine Word to break the vase had taken so much energy, I felt as if I’d been digging holes in the hot sun. It would’ve been much easier just to throw a rock. If I lived through the night, I decided to add some rocks to my tool bag.

We were three meters away when Carter thrust his fist toward the doors. The Eye of Horus burned against the padlock, and the doors burst open as if they’d been hit by a giant fist. I hadn’t seen Carter do anything like that since our fight at the Red Pyramid, but I didn’t have time to be amazed. We bolted outside into the wintry night, the tjesu heru roaring behind us.

You’ll think I was mad, but my first thought was: That was too easy.

Despite the monster chasing us and the business with Set (whom I would strangle at the first opportunity—that backstabbing git!), I couldn’t help feeling we’d breached Menshikov’s inner sanctum and snatched the scroll without nearly enough trouble. Where were the traps? The alarms? The exploding-donkey curses? I was certain we’d stolen the authentic scroll. I’d felt the same tingle in my fingers as when I’d taken the one from the Brooklyn Museum (without the fire, thankfully). So why hadn’t the scroll been better protected?

I was so tired, I fell a few steps behind Carter, which probably saved my life. I felt a crawling sensation across my scalp. I sensed darkness above me—a feeling that reminded me too much of the shadow of Nekhbet’s wings. I looked up and saw the tjesu heru sailing over our heads like a massive bullfrog, timing its pounce so it would land—

“Carter, stop!” I yelled.

Easier said than done on icy pavement. I skidded to a halt, but Carter was going too fast. He fell on his bum and slid, his sword skittering to one side.

The tjesu heru landed right on top of him. If it hadn’t been U-shaped, Carter would’ve been crushed; but it curved around him like an enormous pair of headphones, one head glaring down at him from either side.

How could something so large have leaped so far? Too late, I realized we should have stayed inside where it was harder for the monster to move. Out here, we had no chance of outrunning it.