Horus

So… Anubis didn't want to talk to me? On my birthday? What kind of a cousin is that? A very bad one, let me tell you. I mean, I care about the little brat, of course I do. But he could be so thick sometimes it's ridiculous. At least we got the Feather of Truth.

We leave New Orleans a little over 1 a.m. on my day. First, Bast suggests we take a plane, but after Carter shares with her his ba trip we decide against it. Better not press our luck, especially when we're this close to Set.

"Set is not our only problem," Bast says. "If your vision is correct, the magicians are closing in on us. And not just any magicians—Desjardins himself."

"And Zia." Sadie adds.

Carter rolls his eyes.

In the end, we decide it's safer to drive and Bast 'borrows' an R.V. With luck, we'll make it in Phoenix right on time for the sunrise.

Carter's thought are occupied by Desjardins as we travel. The more we think about the Frenchman, the more his actions stop making sense. By now all clues pointed to him being the host of Set. But the way he saved all those mortals on the plane… It could've been staged to trip us, of course. But then again, so could be and everything pointing towards him in the first place.

Bast and Khufu take turns driving as Sadie and Carter doze off and on until breakfast. Once the sun rises in the sky, Sadie, Bast and Carter settle in the RV's kitchen. The cabinets bang open. Dishes clink. Miles and miles of nothing rush by us outside.

Bast had snagged some food from a New Orleans all-night convenience store before we left, but no one seems hungry. Instead, Bast is using the kitchen table as a scratching post. She's already shredded most of the RV's upholstery.

As for Sadie, she keeps opening and closing her hand. The Feather of Truth appears and disappears, as if she's playing a game. Ever since we left the Hall of Judgement, she seems to have shut down the world.

Not that I'm complaining, Carter thinks. But this is not in my sister's style.

"What happened with Anubis?" Carter asks her for the millionth time.

She glares at him, ready to fight. Then apparently decides it isn't worth the effort. Her eyes fix on the glowing feather, that hovers over her palm.

"We talked," she says carefully. "He asked me some questions."

"What kind of questions?"

"Carter, don't ask. Please."

Please? Okay, that really isn't like Sadie.

Carter looks at Bast for help, but the Queen of Cats doesn't even look up as she's slowly gouging the Formica to bits with her claws.

"What's wrong?" Carter asks her.

She keeps her eyes on the table. "In the Land of the Dead, I abandoned you. Again."

"Anubis startled you. It's no big deal."

Bast locks her yellow eyes with his. "I made a promise to your father, Carter. In exchange for my freedom, he gave me a job even more important than fighting the Serpent: protecting Sadie—and if it ever became necessary, protecting both of you."

Sadie flushes. "Bast, that's...I mean, thank you and all, but we're hardly more important than fighting...you know, him."

"You don't understand," Bast says. "The two of you are not just blood of the pharaohs. You're the most powerful royal children to be born in centuries. You're the only chance we have of reconciling the gods and the House of Life, of relearning the old ways before it's too late. If you could learn the path of the gods, you could find others with royal blood and teach them. You could revitalize the House of Life. What your parents did—everything they did, was to prepare the way for you."

Carter and Sadie go quiet.

"They didn't want to leave you alone," Bast hurries to add. "They didn't plan on it, but they knew releasing the gods would be dangerous. Believe me, they understood how special you are. At first I was protecting you two because I promised. Now even if I hadn't promised, I would. You two are like kittens to me. I won't fail you again."

The old cat really knows how to make everyone emotional, huh? Carter gets a lump in his throat.

I've never been called someone's kitten before.

Sadie sniffs. She brushes something from under her eye. "You're not going to wash us, are you?"

It's nice to see Bast smile again. "I'll try to resist. And by the way, Sadie, I'm proud of you. Dealing with Anubis on your own—those death gods can be nasty customers."

Sadie shrugs. "Well, I wouldn't call him nasty. I mean, he looked hardly more than a teenager."

I get that she's not even 13 yet, but even so this girl has a strange idea for what a teenager looks like.

"What are you talking about?" Carter asks her. "He had the head of a jackal."

"No, when he turned human."

"Sadie... When Anubis turned human he still had the head of a jackal. He was huge and terrifying and, yeah, pretty nasty. Why, what did he look like to you?"

Her cheeks redden. "He looked...like a mortal guy."

"Probably a glamour," Bast says.

"No," Sadie insists. "It couldn't have been."

"Well, it's not important," I said. "We got the feather."

Sadie fidgets, as if it is very important. But then she closes her fist, and the feather of truth disappears. "It won't do us any good without the secret name of Set."

"I'm working on that." Bast's gaze shifts around the room. "I've got a plan. But it's dangerous."

Carter sits forward. "What is it?"

"We'll have to make a stop. I'd rather not jinx us until we get closer, but it's on our way. Shouldn't cause much of a delay."

"This is the morning of the second Demon Day?"

Bast nods. "The day Horus was born."

"And Set's birthday is tomorrow, the third Demon Day. That means we have about twenty-four hours until he destroys North America."

"And if he gets his hands on us," Sadie adds, "he'll ramp up his power even more."

"It'll be enough time," Bast promises. "It's roughly twenty-four hours driving from New Orleans to Phoenix, and we've already been on the road over five hours. If we don't have any more nasty surprises—"

"Like the kind we have every day?"

"Yes," Bast admits. "Like those."

It's okay. No matter what happens, in twenty-four hours we shall be celebrating our win. Like always. There is no reason for a tale as old as time to change its course. I am the rightful king, I am the pharaoh of the gods. Carter is worried we'll fail. Maybe a couple of centuries ago I would have shared that worry. We've never lost, however. Not a single one of Set's plans has every worked. Twenty-four hours and it will be over. I'll be in my palace again. I wonder if Hathor has escaped from her prison already. Will she be waiting for me by the throne? Or, perhaps, somewhere more private?

But, like I mentioned, Carter is not so sure about our triumph.

"Well," he says. "If you need me, I'll be outside, playing with sharp objects."

Carter grabs his sword and heads for the back of the RV. There is a sign on the back door warning us not to use the porch while the vehicle is in motion. Carter does it anyway.

This is the worst place to practice swordplay. It's too small and two chairs take up most of the space. The cold wind whips around us. Every bump in the road throws Carter off balance.

At least here I can be alone. I need to clear my thoughts.

First, he practices summoning his sword from the Duat and putting it back. Then he decides to practice some moves with the sword. With how many movies this kid has watched, you think he'd be better with a weapon. After around fifteen or so minutes, I can't resist teaching him the proper ways. We'll be in an actual battle soon. He'll need the help.

"Lift the blade higher," I tell him. "More of an arc, Carter. The blade is designed to hook an enemy's weapon."

Shut up. He thinks back. Where were you when I needed the help on the basketball court?

He still listens to me, though, holding the sword how I tell him. The highway wounds through long stretches of empty scrubland. As time passes, the air begins to smell more and more like wet reptiles. I have to talk with Carter, but he'll just ignore me in his head.

I materialize by the door. He is so caught up in training he doesn't even notice me. He's wielding the weapon well for someone with so little experience. I'm not about to distract him, I'd hate it if someone did that to me. So I sit back on one of the chairs with my feet up on the railing. After an hour of practice, he finally decides to take a break and sits down.

"It approaches," I tell him.

Carter looks confused for a second, then sees me.

"What's approaching?" he asks. "The fight with Set?"

"That, of course," I agree. "But there is another challenge before that, Carter. Be prepared."

"Great. As if I didn't have enough challenges already."

I hold back a smile. "When I was growing up, Set tried to kill me many times. My mother and I fled from place to place, hiding from him until I was old enough to face him. The Red Lord will send the same forces against you. The next will come—"

"At a river." Carter guesses. "Something bad is going is happen at a river. But what's the challenge?"

"You must beware-" I feel a push, like someone is trying to move me away. I frown. "What's this? Someone is trying to—" My voice dies out. I concentrate on the way the chair feels against my skin, trying to anchor myself on the porch. "A different force-"

And I am back in Carter's head before I can even finish the sentence. Who the-

"Zia!" Carter stands up, looking with wide eyes at the hologram form of Zia Rashid.

"Carter?" Her image flickers. She is clutching her staff, and wears a gray coat wrapped over her robes as if she is standing somewhere cold. Her short black hair dances around her face. "Thank Thoth I found you. "

"How did you get here?"

"No time! Listen: we're coming after you. Desjardins, me, and two others. We don't know exactly where you are. Desjardins' tracking spells are having trouble finding you, but he knows we're getting close. And he knows where you're going—Phoenix."

"So he finally believes Set is free? You're coming to help us?"

Zia shakes her head. "He's coming to stop you."

"Stop us? Zia, Set's about to blow up the continent! My dad—" Carter's voice cracks. I hate how scared and powerless that makes us sound. "My dad's in trouble."

Zia reaches out a shimmering hand,

but it's just an image. Our fingers can't really touch.

Once all of this is over I should talk with Hathor, let her do her thing. Those two deserve a set up.

"Carter, I'm sorry. You have to see Desjardins' point of view. The House of Life has been trying to keep the gods locked up for centuries to prevent something like this from happening. Now that you've unleashed them—"

"It wasn't my idea!"

"I know, but you're trying to fight Set with divine magic. Gods can't be controlled. You could end up doing even more damage. If you let the House of Life handle this—"

"Set is too strong," Carter says. "And I can control Horus. I can do this."

Zia shakes her head. "It will get harder as you get closer to Set. You have no idea."

"And you do?"

Zia glances nervously to her left. Her image turns fuzzy, like a bad television signal. "We don't have much time. Mel will be out of the restroom soon."

"You've got a magician named Mel?"

"Just listen. Desjardins is splitting us into two teams. The plan is for us to cut you off on either side and intercept you. If my team reaches you first, I think I can keep Mel from attacking long enough for us all to talk. Then maybe we can figure out how to approach Desjardins, to convince him we have to cooperate."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but why should I trust you?"

She purses her lips. Carter is right, though. We are on the finish line now, everything can be a trick.

"Carter...I have something to tell you. Something that might help, but it has to be said in person."

"Tell me now."

"Thoth's beak! You are impossibly stubborn."

"Yeah, it's a gift."

They lock eyes. Her image is fading. Carter doesn't want her to go. Not yet. Not when they can talk a little more.

"If you won't trust me, I'll have to trust you," Zia says. "I will arrange to be in Las Cruces, New Mexico, tonight. If you choose to meet me, perhaps we can convince Mel. Then together, we'll convince Desjardins. Will you come?"

"I don't know, Zia."

"Just think about it," she pleads. "And Carter, don't trust Amos. If you see him—" Her eyes widen. "Mel's here!" she whispers.

Zia slashes her staff in front of her and the image vanishes.