The Red Pyramid

Page 15

“Khufu, don’t!” Carter yelled.
But the baboon sank his fangs into the monster’s neck. The serpopard lashed around, trying to bite him. Khufu leaped off, but the monster was quick. It used its head like a bat and smacked poor Khufu in midair, sending him straight through the shattered door, over the broken terrace, and into the void.
I wanted to sob, but there wasn’t time. The serpopards came toward us. We couldn’t outrun them. Carter raised his sword. I pointed my hand at the first monster and tried to speak the ha-di spell, but my voice stuck in my throat.
“Mrow!” Muffin said, more insistently. Why was the cat still nestled in my arm and not running away in terror?
Then I remembered something Amos had said: Muffin will protect you. Was that what Khufu had been trying to remind me? It seemed impossible, but I stammered, “M-muffin, I order you to protect us.”
I tossed her on the floor. Just for a moment, the silver pendant on her collar seemed to gleam. Then the cat arched her back leisurely, sat down, and began licking a front paw. Well, really, what was I expecting—heroics?
The two red-eyed monsters bared their fangs. They raised their heads and prepared to strike—and an explosion of dry air blasted through the room. It was so powerful, it knocked Carter and me to the floor. The serpopards stumbled and backed away.
I staggered to my feet and realized that the center of the blast had been Muffin. My cat was no longer there. In her place was a woman—small and lithe like a gymnast. Her jet-black hair was tied in a ponytail. She wore a skintight leopard-skin jumpsuit and Muffin’s pendant around her neck.
She turned and grinned at me, and her eyes were still Muffin’s—yellow with black feline pupils. “About time,” she chided.
The serpopards got over their shock and charged the cat woman. Their heads struck with lightning speed. They should’ve ripped her in two, but the cat lady leaped straight up, flipping three times, and landed above them, perched on the mantel.
She flexed her wrists, and two enormous knives shot from her sleeves into her hands. “A-a-ah, fun!”
The monsters charged. She launched herself between them, dancing and dodging with incredible grace, letting them lash at her futilely while she threaded their necks together. When she stepped away, the serpopards were hopelessly intertwined. The more they struggled, the tighter the knots became. They trampled back and forth, knocking over furniture and roaring in frustration.
“Poor things,” the cat woman purred. “Let me help.”
Her knives flashed, and the two monsters’ heads thudded to the floor at her feet. Their bodies collapsed and dissolved into enormous piles of sand.
“So much for my playthings,” the woman said sadly. “From sand they come, and to sand they return.”
She turned towards us, and the knives shot back into her sleeves. “Carter, Sadie, we should leave. Worse will be coming.”
Carter made a choking sound. “Worse? Who—how—what—”
“All in good time.” The woman stretched her arms above her head with great satisfaction. “So good to be in human form again! Now, Sadie, can you open us a door through the Duat, please?”
I blinked. “Um...no. I mean—I don’t know how.”
The woman narrowed her eyes, clearly disappointed. “Shame. We’ll need more power, then. An obelisk.”
“But that’s in London,” I protested. “We can’t—”
“There’s a nearer one in Central Park. I try to avoid Manhattan, but this is an emergency. We’ll just pop over and open a portal.”
“A portal to where?” I demanded. “Who are you, and why are you my cat?”
The woman smiled. “For now, we just want a portal out of danger. As for my name, it’s not Muffin, thank you very much. It’s—”
“Bast,” Carter interrupted. “Your pendant—it’s the symbol of Bast, goddess of cats. I thought it was just decoration but...that’s you, isn’t it?”
“Very good, Carter,” Bast said. “Now come, while we can still make it out of here alive.”
Chapter 9. We Run from Four Guys in Skirts
SO, YEAH. OUR CAT WAS A GODDESS.
What else is new?
She didn’t give us much time to talk about it. She ordered me to the library to grab my dad’s magic kit, and when I came back she was arguing with Sadie about Khufu and Philip.
“We have to search for them!” Sadie insisted.
“They’ll be fine,” said Bast. “However, we will not be, unless we leave now.”
I raised my hand. “Um, excuse me, Miss Goddess Lady? Amos told us the house was—”
“Safe?” Bast snorted. “Carter, the defenses were too easily breached. Someone sabotaged them.”
“What do you mean? Who—”
“Only a magician of the House could’ve done it.”
“Another magician?” I asked. “Why would another magician want to sabotage Amos’s house?”
“Oh, Carter,” Bast sighed. “So young, so innocent. Magicians are devious creatures. Could be a million reasons why one would backstab another, but we don’t have time to discuss it. Now, come on!”
She grabbed our arms and led us out the front door. She’d sheathed her knives, but she still had some wicked sharp claws for fingernails that hurt as they dug into my skin. As soon as we stepped outside, the cold wind stung my eyes. We climbed down a long flight of metal stairs into the industrial yard that surrounded the factory.
Dad’s workbag was heavy on my shoulder. The curved sword I’d strapped across my back felt cold against my thin linen clothes. I’d started to sweat during the serpopard attack, and now my perspiration felt like it was turning to ice.
I looked around for more monsters, but the yard seemed abandoned. Old construction equipment lay in rusting heaps—a bulldozer, a crane with a wrecking ball, a couple of cement mixers. Piles of sheet metal and stacks of crates made a maze of obstacles between the house and the street a few hundred yards away.
We were about halfway across the yard when an old gray tomcat stepped in our path. One of his ears was torn. His left eye was swollen shut. Judging from his scars, he’d spent most of his life fighting.
Bast crouched and stared at the cat. He looked up at her calmly.
“Thank you,” Bast said.
The old tomcat trotted off toward the river.
“What was that about?” Sadie asked.
“One of my subjects, offering help. He’ll spread the news about our predicament. Soon every cat in New York will be on alert.”
“He was so battered,” Sadie said. “If he’s your subject, couldn’t you heal him?”
“And take away his marks of honor? A cat’s battle scars are part of his identity. I couldn’t—” Suddenly Bast tensed. She dragged us behind a stack of crates.
“What is it?” I whispered.
She flexed her wrists and her knives slid into her hands. She peeped over the top of the crates, every muscle in her body trembling. I tried to see what she was looking at, but there was nothing except the old wrecking-ball crane.
Bast’s mouth twitched with excitement. Her eyes were fixed on the huge metal ball. I’d seen kittens look like that when they stalked catnip toy mice, or pieces of string, or rubber balls....Balls? No. Bast was an ancient goddess. Surely she wouldn’t—
“This could be it.” She shifted her weight. “Stay very very still.”
“There’s no one there,” Sadie hissed.
I started to say, “Um...”
Bast lunged over the crates. She flew thirty feet through the air, knives flashing, and landed on the wrecking ball with such force that she broke the chain. The cat goddess and the huge metal sphere smashed into the dirt and went rolling across the yard.
“Rowww!” Bast wailed. The wrecking ball rolled straight over her, but she didn’t appear hurt. She leaped off and pounced again. Her knives sliced through the metal like wet clay. Within seconds, the wrecking ball was reduced to a mound of scraps.
Bast sheathed her blades. “Safe now!”
Sadie and I looked at each other.
“You saved us from a metal ball,” Sadie said.
“You never know,” Bast said. “It could’ve been hostile.”
Just then a deep boom! shook the ground. I looked back at the mansion. Tendrils of blue fire curled from the top windows.
“Come on,” Bast said. “Our time is up!”
I thought maybe she’d whisk us off by magic, or at least hail a taxi. Instead, Bast borrowed a silver Lexus convertible.
“Oh, yes,” she purred. “I like this one! Come along, children.”
“But this isn’t yours,” I pointed out.
“My dear, I’m a cat. Everything I see is mine.” She touched the ignition and the keyhole sparked. The engine began to purr. [No, Sadie. Not like a cat, like an engine.]
“Bast,” I said, “you can’t just—”
Sadie elbowed me. “We’ll work out how to return it later, Carter. Right now we’ve got an emergency.”
She pointed back toward the mansion. Blue flames and smoke now billowed from every window. But that wasn’t the scary part—coming down the stairs were four men carrying a large box, like an oversize coffin with long handles sticking out at both ends. The box was covered with a black shroud and looked big enough for at least two bodies. The four men wore only kilts and sandals. Their coppery skin glinted in the sun as if made of metal.
“Oh, that’s bad,” Bast said. “In the car, please.”
I decided not to ask questions. Sadie beat me to the shotgun seat so I climbed in back. The four metallic guys with the box were racing across the yard, coming straight for us at an unbelievable speed. Before I even had my seat belt on, Bast hit the gas.
We tore through the streets of Brooklyn, weaving insanely through traffic, riding over sidewalks, narrowly missing pedestrians.
Bast drove with reflexes that were...well, catlike. Any human trying to drive so fast would’ve had a dozen wrecks, but she got us safely onto the Williamsburg Bridge.
I thought for sure we must’ve lost our pursuers, but when I looked back, the four copper men with the black box were weaving in and out of traffic. They appeared to be jogging at a normal pace, but they passed cars that were doing fifty. Their bodies blurred like choppy images in an old movie, as if they were out of sync with the regular stream of time.
“What are they?” I asked. “Shabti?”
“No, carriers.” Bast glanced in the rearview mirror. “Summoned straight from the Duat. They’ll stop at nothing to find their victims, throw them in the sedan—”
“The what?” Sadie interrupted.
“The large box,” Bast said. “It’s a kind of carriage. The carriers capture you, beat you senseless, throw you in, and carry you back to their master. They never lose their prey, and they never give up.”
“But what do they want us for?”
“Trust me,” Bast growled, “you don’t want to know.”