CHAPTER
41. We Stop the Recording, for Now
I CAN’T BELIEVE SADIE’S GOING TO let me have the last word. Our experience together must’ve really taught her something. Ow, she just hit me. Never mind.
Anyway, I’m glad she told that last part. I think she understood it better than I did. And the whole thing about Zia not being Zia and Dad not getting rescued…that was pretty hard to deal with.
If anybody felt worse than I did, it was Amos. I had just enough magic to turn myself into a falcon and him into a hamster (hey, I was rushed!), but a few miles from the National Mall, he started struggling to change back. Sadie and I were forced to land outside a train station, where Amos turned back into a human and curled into a shivering ball. We tried to talk to him, but he could barely complete a sentence.
Finally we got him into the station. We let him sleep on a bench while Sadie and I warmed up and watched the news.
According to Channel 5, the whole city of Washington was under lockdown. There’d been reports of explosions and weird lights at the Washington Monument, but all the cameras could show us was a big square of melted snow on the mall, which kind of made for boring video. Experts came on and talked about terrorism, but eventually it became clear that there’d been no permanent damage—just a bunch of scary lights. After a while, the media started speculating about freak storm activity or a rare southern appearance of the Northern Lights. Within an hour, the authorities opened up the city.
I wished we had Bast with us, because Amos was in no shape to be our chaperone; but we managed to buy tickets for our “sick” uncle and ourselves as far as New York.
I slept on the way, the amulet of Horus clutched in my hand.
We got back to Brooklyn at sunset.
We found the mansion burned out, which we’d expected, but we had nowhere else to go. I knew we’d made the right choice when we guided Amos through the doorway and heard a familiar, “Agh! Agh!”
“Khufu!” Sadie cried.
The baboon tackled her in a hug and climbed onto her shoulders. He picked at her hair, seeing if she’d brought him any good bugs to eat. Then he jumped off and grabbed a half-melted basketball. He grunted at me insistently, pointing to a makeshift basket he’d made out of some burned beams and a laundry basket. It was a gesture of forgiveness, I realized. He had forgiven me for sucking at his favorite game, and he was offering lessons. Looking around, I realized that he’d tried to clean up in his own baboon way, too. He’d dusted off the one surviving sofa, stacked Cheerios boxes in the fireplace, and even put a dish of water and fresh food out for Muffin, who was curled up asleep on a little pillow. In the clearest part of the living room, under an intact section of roof, Khufu had made three separate mounds of pillows and sheets—sleeping places for us.
I got a lump in my throat. Seeing the care that he’d taken getting ready for us, I couldn’t imagine a better welcome home present.
“Khufu,” I said, “you are one freaking awesome baboon.”
“Agh!” he said, pointing to the basketball.
“You want to school me?” I said. “Yeah, I deserve it. Just give us a second to…”
My smile melted when I saw Amos.
He’d drifted over to the ruined statue of Thoth. The god’s cracked ibis head lay at his feet. His hands had broken off, and his tablet and stylus lay shattered on the ground. Amos stared at the headless god—the patron of magicians—and I could guess what he was thinking. A bad omen for a homecoming.
“It’s okay,” I told him. “We’re going to make it right.”
If Amos heard me, he gave no sign. He drifted over to the couch and plopped down, putting his head in his hands.
Sadie glanced at me uneasily. Then she looked around at the blackened walls, the crumbling ceilings, the charred remains of the furniture.
“Well,” she said, trying to sound upbeat. “How about I play basketball with Khufu, and you can clean the house?”
Even with magic, it took us several weeks to put the house back in order. That was just to make it livable. It was hard without Isis and Horus helping, but we could still do magic. It just took a lot more concentration and a lot more time. Every day, I went to sleep feeling as if I’d done twelve hours of hard labor; but eventually we got the walls and ceilings repaired, and cleaned up the debris until the house no longer smelled of smoke. We even managed to fix the terrace and the pool. We brought Amos out to watch as we released the wax crocodile figurine into the water, and Philip of Macedonia sprang to life.
Amos almost smiled when he saw that. Then he sank into a chair on the terrace and stared desolately at the Manhattan skyline.
I began to wonder if he would ever be the same. He’d lost too much weight. His face looked haggard. Most days he wore his bathrobe and didn’t even bother to comb his hair.
“He was taken over by Set,” Sadie told me one morning, when I mentioned how worried I was. “Do you have any idea how violating that is? His will was broken. He doubts himself and… Well, it may be a long time….”
We tried to lose ourselves in work. We repaired the statue of Thoth, and fixed the broken shabti in the library. I was better at grunt work—moving blocks of stone or heaving ceiling beams into place. Sadie was better at fine details, like repairing the hieroglyphic seals on the doors. Once, she really impressed me by imagining her bedroom just as it had been and speaking the joining spell, hi-nehm. Pieces of furniture flew together out of the debris, and boom!: instant repair job. Of course, Sadie passed out for twelve hours afterward, but still…pretty cool. Slowly but surely, the mansion began to feel like home.
At night I would sleep with my head on a charmed headrest, which mostly kept my ba from drifting off; but sometimes I still had strange visions—the red pyramid, the serpent in the sky, or the face of my father as he was trapped in Set’s coffin. Once I thought I heard Zia’s voice trying to tell me something from far away, but I couldn’t make out the words.
Sadie and I kept our amulets locked in a box in the library. Every morning I would sneak down to make sure they were still there. I would find them glowing, warm to the touch, and I would be tempted—very tempted—to put on the Eye of Horus. But I knew I couldn’t. The power was too addictive, too dangerous. I’d achieved a balance with Horus once, under extreme circumstances, but I knew it would be too easy to get overwhelmed if I tried it again. I had to train first, become a more powerful magician, before I would be ready to tap that much power.
One night at dinner, we had a visitor.
Amos had gone to bed early, as he usually did. Khufu was inside watching ESPN with Muffin on his lap. Sadie and I sat exhausted on the deck overlooking the river. Philip of Macedonia floated silently in his pool. Except for the hum of the city, the night was quiet.
I’m not sure how it happened, but one minute we were alone, and the next there was a guy standing at the railing. He was lean and tall, with messed-up hair and pale skin, and his clothes were all black, as if he’d mugged a priest or something. He was probably around sixteen, and even though I’d never seen his face before, I had the weirdest feeling that I knew him.
Sadie stood up so quickly she knocked over her split-pea soup—which is gross enough in the bowl, but running all over the table? Yuck.
“Anubis!” she blurted.
Anubis? I thought she was kidding, because this guy did not look anything like the slavering jackal-headed god I’d seen in the Land of the Dead. He stepped forward, and my hand crept for my wand.
“Sadie,” he said. “Carter. Would you come with me, please?”
“Sure,” Sadie said, her voice a little strangled.
“Hold on,” I said. “Where are we going?”
Anubis gestured behind him, and a door opened in the air—a pure black rectangle. “Someone wants to see you.”
Sadie took his hand and stepped through into the darkness, which left me no choice but to follow.
The Hall of Judgment had gotten a makeover. The golden scales still dominated the room, but they had been fixed. The black pillars still marched off into the gloom on all four sides. But now I could see the overlay—the strange holographic image of the real world—and it was no longer a graveyard, as Sadie had described. It was a white living room with tall ceilings and huge picture windows. Double doors led to a terrace that looked out over the ocean.
I was struck speechless. I looked at Sadie, and judging from the shock on her face, I guessed she recognized the place too: our house in Los Angeles, in the hills overlooking the Pacific—the last place we’d lived as a family.
“The Hall of Judgment is intuitive,” a familiar voice said. “It responds to strong memories.”
Only then did I notice the throne wasn’t empty anymore. Sitting there, with Ammit the Devourer curled at his feet, was our father.
I almost ran to him, but something held me back. He looked the same in many ways—the long brown coat, the rumpled suit and dusty boots, his head freshly shaven and his beard trimmed. His eyes gleamed the way they did whenever I made him proud.
But his form shimmered with a strange light. Like the room itself, I realized, he existed in two worlds. I concentrated hard, and my eyes opened to a deeper level of the Duat.
Dad was still there, but taller and stronger, dressed in the robes and jewels of an Egyptian pharaoh. His skin was a dark shade of blue like the deep ocean.
Anubis walked over and stood at his side, but Sadie and I were a little more cautious.
“Well, come on,” Dad said. “I won’t bite.”
Ammit the Devourer growled as we came close, but Dad stroked his crocodile head and shushed him. “These are my children, Ammit. Behave.”
“D-Dad?” I stammered.
Now I want to be clear: even though weeks had passed since the battle with Set, and even though I’d been busy rebuilding the mansion the whole time, I hadn’t stopped thinking about my dad for a minute. Every time I saw a picture in the library, I thought of the stories he used to tell me. I kept my clothes in a suitcase in my bedroom closet, because I couldn’t bear the idea that our life traveling together was over. I missed him so much I would sometimes turn to tell him something before I forgot that he was gone. In spite of all that, and all the emotion boiling around inside me, all I could think of to say was: “You’re blue.”
My dad’s laugh was so normal, so him, that it broke the tension. The sound echoed through the hall, and even Anubis cracked a smile.
“Goes with the territory,” Dad said. “I’m sorry I didn’t bring you here sooner, but things have been…” He looked at Anubis for the right word.
“Complicated,” Anubis suggested.
“Complicated. I have meant to tell you both how proud I am of you, how much the gods are in your debt—”
“Hang on,” Sadie said. She stomped right up to the throne. Ammit growled at her, but Sadie growled back, which confused the monster into silence.
“What are you?” she demanded. “My dad? Osiris? Are you even alive?”
Dad looked at Anubis. “What did I tell you about her? Fiercer than Ammit, I said.”
“You didn’t need to tell me.” Anubis’s face was grave. “I’ve learned to fear that sharp tongue.”
Sadie looked outraged. “Excuse me?”
“To answer your question,” Dad said, “I am both Osiris and Julius Kane. I am alive and dead, though the term recycled might be closer to the truth. Osiris is the god of the dead, and the god of new life. To return him to his throne—”
“You had to die,” I said. “You knew this going into it. You intentionally hosted Osiris, knowing you would die.”
I was shaking with anger. I didn’t realize how strongly I’d felt about it, but I couldn’t believe what my dad had done. “This is what you meant by ‘making things right’?”
My dad’s expression didn’t change. He was still looking at me with pride and downright joy, as if everything I did delighted him—even my shouting. It was infuriating.
“I missed you, Carter,” he said. “I can’t tell you how much. But we made the right choice. We all did. If you had saved me in the world above, we would have lost everything. For the first time in millennia, we have a chance at rebirth, and a chance to stop chaos because of you.”
“There had to be another way,” I said. “You could’ve fought as a mortal, without…without—”
“Carter, when Osiris was alive, he was a great king. But when he died—”
“He became a thousand times more powerful,” I said, remembering the story Dad used to tell me.
My father nodded. “The Duat is the foundation for the real world. If there is chaos here, it reverberates in the upper world. Helping Osiris to his throne was a first step, a thousand times more important than anything I could’ve done in the world above—except being your father. And I am still your father.”
My eyes stung. I guess I understood what he was saying, but I didn’t like it. Sadie looked even angrier than me, but she was glaring at Anubis.
“Sharp tongue?” she demanded.
Dad cleared his throat. “Children, there is another reason I made my choice, as you can probably guess.” He held out his hand, and a woman in a black dress appeared next to him. She had golden hair, intelligent blue eyes, and a face that looked familiar. She looked like Sadie.
“Mom,” I said.
She gazed back and forth from Sadie to me in amazement, as if we were the ghosts. “Julius told me how much you’d grown, but I couldn’t believe it. Carter, I bet you’re shaving—”
“Mom.”
“—and dating girls—”
“Mom!” Have you ever noticed how parents can go from the most wonderful people in the world to totally embarrassing in three seconds?
She smiled at me, and I had to fight with about twenty different feelings at once. I’d spent years dreaming of being back with my parents, together in our house in L.A. But not like this: not with the house just an afterimage, and my mom a spirit, and my dad…recycled. I felt like the world was shifting under my feet, turning into sand.
“We can’t go back, Carter,” Mom said, as if reading my mind. “But nothing is lost, even in death. Do you remember the law of conservation?”
It had been six years since we’d sat together in the living room—this living room, and she’d read me the laws of physics the way most parents read bedtime stories. But I still remembered. “Energy and matter can’t be created or destroyed.”
“Only changed,” my mother agreed. “And sometimes changed for the better.”
She took Dad’s hand, and I had to admit—blue and ghostly or not—they kind of looked happy.
“Mum.” Sadie swallowed. For once, her attention wasn’t on Anubis. “Did you really…was that—”
“Yes, my brave girl. My thoughts mixed with yours. I’m so proud of you. And thanks to Isis, I feel like I know you as well.” She leaned forward and smiled conspiratorially. “I like chocolate caramels, too, though your grandmum never approved of keeping sweets in the flat.”
Sadie broke into a relieved grin. “I know! She’s impossible!”
I got the feeling they were going to start chatting for hours, but just then the Hall of Judgment rumbled. Dad checked his watch, which made me wonder what time zone the Land of the Dead was in.
“We should wrap things up,” he said. “The others are expecting you.”
“Others?” I asked.
“A gift before you go.” Dad nodded to Mom.
She stepped forward and handed me a palm-size package of folded black linen. Sadie helped me unwrap it, and inside was a new amulet—one that looked like a column or a tree trunk or…“Is that a spine?” Sadie demanded.
“It is called a djed,” Dad said. “My symbol—the spine of Osiris.”
“Yuck,” Sadie muttered.
Mom laughed. “It is a bit yuck, but honestly, it’s a powerful symbol. Stands for stability, strength—”
“Backbone?” I asked.
“Literally.” Mom gave me an approving look, and again I had that surreal shifting feeling. I couldn’t believe I was standing here, having a chat with my somewhat dead parents.
Mom closed the amulet into my hands. Her touch was warm, like a living person’s. “Djed also stands for the power of Osiris—renewed life from the ashes of death. This is exactly what you will need if you are to stir the blood of the pharaohs in others and rebuild the House of Life.”
“The House won’t like that,” Sadie put in.
“No,” Mom said cheerfully. “They certainly won’t.”
The Hall of Judgment rumbled again.
“It is time,” Dad said. “We’ll meet again, children. But until then, take care.”
“Be mindful of your enemies,” Mom added.
“And tell Amos…” Dad’s voice trailed off thoughtfully. “Remind my brother that Egyptians believe in the power of the sunrise. They believe each morning begins not just a new day, but a new world.”
Before I could figure out what that meant, the Hall of Judgment faded, and we stood with Anubis in a field of darkness.
“I’ll show you the way,” Anubis said. “It is my job.”
He ushered us to a space in the darkness that looked no different from any other. But when he pushed with his hand, a door swung open. The entrance blazed with daylight.
Anubis bowed formally to me. Then he looked at Sadie with a glint of mischief in his eyes. “It’s been…stimulating.”
Sadie flushed and pointed at him accusingly. “We’re not done, mister. I expect you to look after my parents. And next time I’m in the Land of the Dead, you and I will have words.”
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I’ll look forward to that.”
We stepped through the doorway and into the palace of the gods.
It looked just like Sadie had described from her visions: soaring stone columns, fiery braziers, a polished marble floor, and in the middle of the room, a gold-and-red throne. All around us, gods had gathered. Many were just flashes of light and fire. Some were shadowy images that shifted from animal to human. I recognized a few: Thoth flickered into view as a wild-haired guy in a lab coat before turning into a cloud of green gas; Hathor, the cow-headed goddess, gave me a puzzled look, as if she vaguely recognized me from the Magic Salsa incident. I looked for Bast, but my heart fell. She didn’t seem to be in the crowd. In fact, most of the gods I didn’t recognize.
“What have we started?” Sadie murmured.
I understood what she meant. The throne room was full of hundreds of gods, major and minor, all darting through the palace, forming new shapes, glowing with power. An entire supernatural army…and they all seemed to be staring at us.
Thankfully, two old friends stood next to the throne. Horus wore full battle armor and a khopesh sword at his side. His kohl-lined eyes—one gold, one silver—were as piercing as ever. At his side stood Isis in a shimmering white gown, with wings of light.
“Welcome,” Horus said.
“Um, hi,” I said.
“He has a way with words,” Isis muttered, which made Sadie snort.
Horus gestured to the throne. “I know your thoughts, Carter, so I think I know what you will say. But I have to ask you one more time. Will you join me? We could rule the earth and the heavens. Ma’at demands a leader.”
“Yeah, so I’ve heard.”
“I would be stronger with you as my host. You’ve only touched the surface of what combat magic can do. We could accomplish great things, and it is your destiny to lead the House of Life. You could be the king of two thrones.”
I glanced at Sadie, but she just shrugged. “Don’t look at me. I find the idea horrifying.”
Horus scowled at her, but the truth was, I agreed with Sadie. All those gods waiting for direction, all those magicians who hated us—the idea of trying to lead them made my knees turn to water.
“Maybe some day,” I said. “Much later.”
Horus sighed. “Five thousand years, and I still do not understand mortals. But—very well.”
He stepped up to the throne and looked around at the assembled gods.
“I, Horus, son of Osiris, claim the throne of the heavens as my birthright!” he shouted. “What was once mine shall be mine again. Is there any who would challenge me?”
The gods flickered and glowed. A few scowled. One muttered something that sounded like “Cheese,” although that could’ve been my imagination. I caught a glimpse of Sobek, or possibly another crocodile god, snarling in the shadows. But no one raised a challenge.
Horus took his seat on the throne. Isis brought him a crook and flail—the twin scepters of the pharaohs. He crossed them over his chest and all the gods bowed before him.
When they’d risen again, Isis stepped toward us. “Carter and Sadie Kane, you have done much to restore Ma’at. The gods must gather their strength, and you have bought us time, though we do not know how much. Apophis will not stay locked away forever.”
“I’d settle for a few hundred years,” Sadie said.
Isis smiled. “However that may be, today you are heroes. The gods owe you a debt, and we take our debts seriously.”
Horus rose from the throne. With a wink at me, he knelt before us. The other gods shifted uncomfortably, but then followed his example. Even the gods in fire form dimmed their flames.
I probably looked pretty stunned, because when Horus got up again he laughed. “You look like that time when Zia told you—”
“Yeah, could we skip that?” I said quickly. Letting a god into your head has serious disadvantages.
“Go in peace, Carter and Sadie,” Horus said. “You will find our gift in the morning.”
“Gift?” I asked nervously, because if I got one more magic amulet, I was going to break out in a cold sweat.
“You’ll see,” Isis promised. “We will be watching you, and waiting.”
“That’s what scares me,” Sadie said.
Isis waved her hand, and suddenly we were back on the mansion’s terrace as if nothing had happened.
Sadie turned toward me wistfully. “‘Stimulating.’”
I held out my hand. The djed amulet was glowing and warm in its linen wrapping. “Any idea what this thing does?”
She blinked. “Hmm? Oh, don’t care. What did Anubis look like to you?”
“What did…he looked like a guy. So?”
“A good-looking guy, or a slobbering dog-headed guy?”
“I guess…not the dog-headed guy.”
“I knew it!” Sadie pointed at me as if she’d won an argument. “Good-looking. I knew it!”
And with a ridiculous grin, she spun around and skipped into the house.
My sister, as I may have mentioned, is a little strange.
The next day, we got the gods’ gift.
We woke to find that the mansion had been completely repaired down to the smallest detail. Everything we hadn’t finished yet—probably another month’s worth of work—was done.
The first thing I found were new clothes in my closet, and after a moment’s hesitation, I put them on. I went downstairs and found Khufu and Sadie dancing around the restored Great Room. Khufu had a new Lakers jersey and a brand-new basketball. The magical brooms and mops were busy doing their cleaning routine. Sadie looked up at me and grinned—and then her expression changed to shock.
“Carter, what—what are you wearing?”
I came down the stairs, feeling even more self-conscious. The closet had offered me several choices this morning, not just my linen robes. My old clothes had been there, freshly cleaned—a button-down shirt, starched khaki slacks, loafers. But there had also been a third choice, and I’d taken it: some Reeboks, blue jeans, a T-shirt, and a hoodie.
“It’s, um, all cotton,” I said. “Okay for magic. Dad would probably think I look like a gangster….”
I thought for sure Sadie would tease me about that, and I was trying to beat her to the punch. She scrutinized every detail of my outfit.
Then she laughed with absolute delight. “It’s brilliant, Carter. You look almost like a regular teenager! And Dad would think…” She pulled my hoodie over my head. “Dad would think you look like an impeccable magician, because that’s what you are. Now, come on. Breakfast is waiting on the patio.”
We were just digging in when Amos came outside, and his change of clothes was even more surprising than mine. He wore a crisp new chocolate-colored suit with matching coat and fedora. His shoes were shined, his round glasses polished, his hair freshly braided with amber beads. Sadie and I both stared at him.
“What?” he demanded.
“Nothing,” we said in unison. Sadie looked at me and mouthed O-M-G, then went back to her bangers and eggs. I attacked my pancakes. Philip thrashed around happily in his swimming pool.
Amos joined us at the table. He flicked his fingers and coffee magically filled his cup. I raised my eyebrows. He hadn’t used magic since the Demon Days.
“I thought I’d go away for a while,” he announced. “To the First Nome.”
Sadie and I exchanged glances.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I asked.
Amos sipped his coffee. He stared across the East River as if he could see all the way to Washington, D.C. “They have the best magic healers there. They will not turn away a petitioner seeking aid—even me. I think…I think I should try.”
His voice was fragile, like it would crack apart any moment. But still, it was the most he’d said in weeks.
“I think that’s brilliant,” Sadie offered. “We’ll watch after the place, won’t we, Carter?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Absolutely.”
“I may be gone for a while,” Amos said. “Treat this as your home. It is your home.” He hesitated, as if choosing his next words carefully. “And I think, perhaps, you should start recruiting. There are many children around the world with the blood of the pharaohs. Most do not know what they are. What you two said in Washington—about rediscovering the path of the gods—it may be our only chance.”
Sadie got up and kissed Amos on the forehead. “Leave it to us, Uncle. I’ve got a plan.”
“That,” I said, “sounds like very bad news.”
Amos managed a smile. He squeezed Sadie’s hand, then got up and ruffled my hair as he headed inside.
I took another bite of my pancakes and wondered why—on such a great morning—I still felt sad, and a little incomplete. I suppose with so many things suddenly getting better, the things that were still missing hurt even worse.
Sadie picked at her scrambled eggs. “I suppose it would be selfish to ask for more.”
I stared at her, and I realized we were thinking the same thing. When the gods had said a gift… Well, you can hope for things, but as Sadie said, I guess you can’t get greedy.
“It’s going to be hard to travel if we need to go recruiting,” I said cautiously. “Two unaccompanied minors.”
Sadie nodded. “No Amos. No responsible adult. I don’t think Khufu counts.”
And that’s when the gods completed their gift.
A voice from the doorway said, “Sounds like you have a job opening.”
I turned and felt a thousand pounds of grief drop from my shoulders. Leaning against the door in a leopard-spotted jumpsuit was a dark-haired lady with golden eyes and two very large knives.
“Bast!” Sadie cried.
The cat goddess gave us a playful smile, as if she had all kinds of trouble in mind. “Someone call for a chaperone?”
A few days later, Sadie had a long phone conversation with Gran and Grandpa Faust in London. They didn’t ask to talk to me, and I didn’t listen in. When Sadie came back down to the Great Room, she had a faraway look in her eyes. I was afraid—very afraid—that she was missing London.
“Well?” I asked reluctantly.
“I told them we were all right,” she said. “They told me the police have stopped bothering them about the explosion at the British Museum. Apparently the Rosetta Stone turned up unharmed.”
“Like magic,” I said.
Sadie smirked. “The police decided it might’ve been a gas explosion, some sort of accident. Dad’s off the hook, as are we. I could go home to London, they said. Spring term starts in a few weeks. My mates Liz and Emma have been asking about me.”
The only sound was the crackle of fire in the hearth. The Great Room suddenly seemed bigger to me, emptier.
At last I said, “What did you tell them?”
Sadie raised an eyebrow. “God, you’re thick sometimes. What do you think?”
“Oh.” My mouth felt like sandpaper. “I guess it’ll be good to see your friends and get back your old room, and—”
Sadie punched my arm. “Carter! I told them I couldn’t very well go home, because I already was home. This is where I belong. Thanks to the Duat, I can see my friends whenever I want. And besides, you’d be lost without me.”
I must’ve grinned like a fool, because Sadie told me to wipe the silly look off my face—but she sounded pleased about it. I suppose she knew she was right, for once. I would’ve been lost without her. [And no, Sadie, I can’t believe I just said that either.]
Just when things were settling down to a nice safe routine, Sadie and I embarked on our new mission. Our destination was a school that Sadie had seen in a dream. I won’t tell you which school, but Bast drove us a long way to get there. We recorded this tape along the way. Several times the forces of chaos tried to stop us. Several times we heard rumors that our enemies were starting to hunt down other descendants of the pharaohs, trying to thwart our plans.
We got to the school the day before the spring term started. The hallways were empty, and it was easy to slip inside. Sadie and I picked a locker at random, and she told me to set the combination. I summoned some magic and mixed around the numbers: 13/32/33. Hey, why mess with a good formula?
Sadie said a spell and the locker began to glow. Then she put the package inside and closed the door.
“Are you sure about this?” I asked.
She nodded. “The locker is partially in the Duat. It’ll store the amulet until the right person opens it.”
“But if the djed falls into the wrong hands—”
“It won’t,” she promised. “The blood of the pharaohs is strong. The right kids will find the amulet. If they figure out how to use it, their powers should awaken. We have to trust that the gods will guide them to Brooklyn.”
“We won’t know how to train them,” I argued. “No one has studied the path of the gods for two thousand years.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Sadie said. “We have to.”
“Unless Apophis gets us first,” I said. “Or Desjardins and the House of Life. Or unless Set breaks his word. Or a thousand other things go wrong.”
“Yes,” Sadie said with a smile. “Be fun, eh?”
We locked the locker and walked away.
Now we’re back at the Twenty-first Nome in Brooklyn.
We’re going to send out this tape to a few carefully chosen people and see if it gets published. Sadie believes in fate. If the story falls into your hands, there’s probably a reason. Look for the djed. It won’t take much to awaken your power. Then the trick is learning to use that power without dying.
As I said at the beginning: the whole story hasn’t happened yet. Our parents promised to see us again, so I know we’ll have to go back to the Land of the Dead eventually, which I think is fine with Sadie, as long as Anubis is there.
Zia is out there somewhere—the real Zia. I intend to find her.
Most of all, chaos is rising. Apophis is gaining strength. Which means we have to gain strength too—gods and men, united like in olden times. It’s the only way the world won’t be destroyed.
So the Kane family has a lot of work to do. And so do you.
Maybe you’ll want to follow the path of Horus or Isis, Thoth or Anubis, or even Bast. I don’t know. But whatever you decide, the House of Life needs new blood if we’re going to survive.
So this is Carter and Sadie Kane signing off.
Come to Brooklyn. We’ll be waiting.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Much of this story is based on fact, which makes me think that either the two narrators, Sadie and Carter, did a great deal of research…or they are telling the truth.
The House of Life did exist, and was an important part of Egyptian society for several millennia. Whether or not it still exists today—that is something I cannot answer. But it is undeniable that Egyptian magicians were famed throughout the ancient world, and many of the spells they could supposedly cast are exactly as described in this story.
The way the narrators portray Egyptian magic is also supported by archaeological evidence. Shabti, Curved Wands, and Magicians’ boxes have survived, and can be viewed in many museums. All of the artifacts and monuments Sadie and Carter mention actually exist—with the possible exception of the red pyramid. There is a “Red Pyramid” at Giza, but it is only called that because the original white casing stones were stripped away, revealing the pink granite blocks underneath. In fact the pyramid’s owner, Senefru, would be horrified to learn his pyramid is now red, the color of Set. As for the magical red pyramid mentioned in the story, we can only hope that it has been destroyed.
Should further recordings fall into my hands, I will relay the information. Until then, we can only hope that Carter and Sadie are wrong in their predictions about the rise of chaos….
For Conner and Maggie, the Riordan family’s great brother-sister team
WARNING
This is a transcript of an audio recording. Carter and Sadie Kane first made themselves known in a recording I received last year, which I transcribed as The Red Pyramid. This second audio file arrived at my residence shortly after that book was published, so I can only assume the Kanes trust me enough to continue relaying their story. If this second recording is a truthful account, the turn of events can only be described as alarming. For the sake of the Kanes, and for the world, I hope what follows is fiction. Otherwise we are all in very serious trouble.