“What does that mean, exactly?” I asked as I climbed into the cab and scooted over to make room for Amon.
“In my country a sphinx is often depicted as a man, but the Greeks believed the sphinx to be female: half lioness, half human. I appreciate their version more. You see, a lioness is brave and smart. She is a huntress who provides food for her cubs. Each animal she hunts has the potential to end her life, but she still hunts just the same, for there are others who rely on her. To have the heart of a sphinx is to have the heart of a lioness. But the sphinx is also a protector, a defender. As she raises her great wings, she creates a powerful wind that wards off evil.”
“So are there real sphinxes? I mean, if Anubis is real and mummies are real, then it’s a possibility, right?”
Amon finally turned to me and rubbed his jaw. “I have never seen one, but there is a legend told among warriors that a woman brave of heart who proves herself in battle will be embraced by the spirit of the sphinx.”
“Right. All things considered, I’m not sure that’s something I’d want to aspire to. Battling isn’t really on my list of things to do, and I’m also not too fond of the idea of having a tail.”
Amon glanced at my body with interest as if considering the possibility.
“What?” I sputtered as my face turned red.
“Nothing,” he answered, unable to hide his grin.
I sank my elbow into his side and said, “Quit it. And while I’m thinking of it, stop reading my mind, too.”
“Believe it or not, I try to avoid it, but sometimes your feelings are so overwhelming, even I, with all my powers, do not have the ability to defend myself from the onslaught.”
I peered at the driver, wondering what he thought of this conversation, but he didn’t seem to be paying much attention. In fact, his expression was almost…giddy.
Quietly, I asked Amon, “What did you do to him?”
“Are you controlling him?”
“I am manipulating his vision,” Amon said as he leaned closer.
“What do you mean?”
“What he sees are the two most important people he will ever drive.”
When we arrived at JFK, I pulled out my credit card to pay, but the driver was insulted that I’d even suggest such a thing. He even dusted off my backpack and offered to carry it in for me. When we were finally able to break away from him, he shook hands with Amon, offered him a business card, said he was a big fan, and added that if Amon was ever in New York again to please not hesitate to call upon him for any reason.
As he drove away, I couldn’t help but laugh. “Who did he think you were?”
“I am not sure of the name, but the image of a young male singer with lots of hair came to my mind.”
The idea that a NYC taxi driver’s dream client was a member of a boy band kept me smiling all the way into the airport terminal.
We entered the airport without any trouble, and Amon watched the other travelers with an expression of deep fascination. How different and strange we must have seemed to him, what with our gleaming windows, spacious, airy buildings of chrome and metal, and everyone bustling from place to place with their wheeled luggage.
“Now, you have to be careful about what you do in here. You have a knack for drawing too much attention to yourself. Try to blend in. There are cameras everywhere.” At his confused look, I explained, “A camera takes pictures. You know, like the carvings on the walls of temples and pyramids? They’re like that, only much, much more accurate. See?”
I took a picture of myself with my phone and showed it to him. With fascination, he traced the image with his finger.
Turning my phone around, I clicked a picture of Amon, but the screen was blurred. “Hold on. Let me try again.”
I shut off the flash and touched the button again and again, but each shot was the same. In the spot where Amon should be, there was a burst of light.
“Your technology cannot carve my image. It is likely because I am a walking shadow.”