The long, winding shadow was the Black Pullet. Its wings gleamed—pure gold, as the Old Man had said. And the waves rippling alongside the Pullet were the mummified imperial guards. Hundreds of them.
“God save us,” I whispered. But no sound would come. My lungs ached with a feeling I barely recognized—as if they were trapped beneath a thousand stones. How many villages and farms had they trampled on their way north? How much waste had Marcus left in his path? At least Saqqara is isolated, I thought. But it held no comfort.
For I was afraid.
Truly afraid.
I lowered the spyglass, clacked it shut against my chest, and thrust it into my pocket. Then, without thinking, my left hand reached for my other pocket—and my mind reached for Oliver.
But the ivory artifact was gone, and so was my demon.
And I could do this on my own.
So I withdrew my fingers, curling them into a vicious fist. And then I inhaled until my ribs bowed outward.
It was time to end this.
My heels dug into the sand as I picked up speed. Daniel flashed me a grim nod as I bolted past. . . .
But I barely noticed him. My attention was on my army now. They would topple beneath those imperial mummies, but at least they would be a distraction. As soon as I had crossed the final ring of copper lines, I began to draw in my power.
With each hot breath, I sucked in the magic. With each sliding step, I wrapped it around my heart.
I sprinted to the dogs, and when I sensed the skeletons beneath me, I slowed to a walk . . . then a careful creep. Bones rolled beneath my feet, and my magic throbbed in my chest.
At last, when I had reached the center of the dog graveyard, I stopped and opened my arms wide.
Dust billowed over me. Moonlight shone down. Then, with my left fingers flexed taut, I poured my magic from me. “Awake.”
As before, the magic sifted into individual sparks. Hundreds upon hundreds spiraled out to each and every skeleton. Then they stabbed in, nestling deep within the dog’s bones . . . and the strands of magic pulled tight. Over and over, my power gushed from my heart until every ancient hound was awake—and was mine.
Then, with a tired breath, I pushed back through the rows and jogged toward the pyramid—toward Jie. She waited at the obelisk, Joseph beside her. His face was unusually pale, his forehead pinched, but otherwise he looked ready.
Jie, on the other hand, fidgeted and swung something in her hand.
A sword.
“Take this,” she said, extending it to me.
My forehead bunched up. It was a dented, chipped thing as long as her arm and double-edged.
A laugh escaped my throat. “This was from Philadelphia. The ancient Roman sword you stole from the Centennial Exhibition.”
“Yeah.” She bared a tight grin. “It still works fine, even if it is a thousand years old. I’ve kept it in my luggage since Philadelphia.”
My left hand wrapped around the hilt. “But what will you fight with?”
She wiggled her fingers at me. “These will do fine. Here . . .” She moved to me and slid the sword behind my belt. It was stiff, but it was also accessible. Then she laid her hands on my shoulders. There was no missing the terror in her eyes.
“Be careful, Eleanor.”
“You too, Jie.”
She grunted her agreement and turned to Joseph. “I’m not much for prayer, but now seems like a good time, yeah?”
He nodded absently, his gaze locked on the southern horizon. As I set off toward the north side of the pyramid—toward the second dog graveyard—I heard him begin to chant beneath his breath. The words were Creole, but the message was clear: Please let us survive this night.
I reached the base of the pyramid and wheeled around it—only to skitter to a stop. Daniel marched toward me, his bandolier in hand, though only two pistols remained. His jaw was set, his spine straight.
In two long strides, he closed the space between us, dropped the bandolier to the sand, and tugged me into a fierce embrace.
His lips were on mine. It was a desperate kiss—a kiss to end the world on—and I thought I might crumble beneath it . . . except that I fought against the tide of need, and I kissed him just as hard in return.
I clutched him to myself, digging my fingers into his back, into his hair, biting and tasting until our lips were raw and I could not breathe.
Until Daniel broke away. His lip bled, his chest heaved. But his fingers stayed in my hair, and he touched his nose to mine. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“Please survive this night. For me.”
I nodded. Then he brushed a final kiss over my lips, hefted his bandolier, and strode around the pyramid without looking back.
And I did not watch him go. I kicked back into a run, the sword banging against my leg as I raced toward our secondary army.
As I had done before, I navigated to the center, called in my power as I moved, then released it. “Awake, awake.”
In four thunderous heartbeats, the dogs awoke—and our army was complete. Now I simply had to get into position.