17.03.2015

Sadie Kane

16:45pm.

I made it across the street when our front door exploded. Glancing back, I saw something emerge from the ruins and dust-a dark hairy shape much too big to be my grandfather.

I didn't wait for a better look.

I raced around the corner of South Colonnade and plowed straight into Liz and Emma.

"Sadie!" Liz yelped, dropping a birthday present. "What's wrong?"

"No time!" I said. "Come on!"

"Nice to see you, too," Emma grumbled. "Where are you rushing off-"

The creature behind me bellowed, quite close now.

"Explain later," I said. "Unless you'd like to be ripped apart by a god named Bobby, follow me!"

Looking back, I can appreciate just what a miserable birthday I was having, but at the time I was too panicked to feel properly sorry for myself.

We ran down South Colonnade, the roaring behind us almost drowned out by Liz and Emma's complaining.

"Sadie!" Emma said. "Is this one of your jokes?"

She'd gotten a bit taller but still looked much the same, with her oversize, glittery glasses and short spiky hair. She wore a black leather miniskirt, a fuzzy pink jumper, and ridiculous platform shoes that she could barely walk in, much less run. Who's that flamboyant rock 'n' roll chap from the '70s-Elton John? If he had an Indian daughter, she might look like Emma.

"It's no joke," I promised. "And for god's sake, lose those shoes!"

Emma looked appalled. "You know how much these cost?"

"Honestly, Sadie," Liz put in. "Where are you dragging us to?"

She was dressed more sensibly in jeans and trainers, a white top and denim jacket, but she looked just as winded as Emma. Tucked under her arm, my birthday present was getting a bit squashed. Liz was a redhead with lots of freckles, and when she got embarrassed or overexerted herself, her pale face became so flushed, her freckles disappeared. Under normal circumstances Emma and I would've teased her about this, but not today.

Behind us, the creature roared again. I looked back, which was a mistake. I faltered to a stop, and my mates ran into me.

For a brief moment, I thought, My god, it's Khufu.

But Khufu wasn't the size of a grizzly bear. He didn't have glittering silver fur, fangs like scimitars, or a look of bloodlust in his eyes.

The baboon ravaging Canary Wharf looked like he would eat anything, not just foods ending with an -o, and would have no difficulty ripping me limb from limb.

The only good news: the activity on the street had momentarily distracted him. Cars swerved to avoid the beast. Pedestrians screamed and ran. The baboon began overturning taxis and smashing shop windows. As he got closer to us, I saw a bit of red cloth hanging from his left arm-the remains of Gramps's favorite cardigan. Stuck on his forehead were Gramps's glasses.

Until that moment, the shock hadn't fully hit me.

There were times I didn't like my grandparents, especially when they'd said bad things about my dad, or ignored Carter, or when they'd let Amos take me away last Christmas without a fight. But still, they'd raised me for six years. Gramps had put me on his lap and read me his dusty old Enid Blyton stories when I was small. He'd watched after me at the park and taken me to the zoo countless times. He'd bought me sweets even though Gran disapproved. He may have had a temper, but he was a reasonably harmless old pensioner. He certainly didn't deserve to have his body taken over like this.

The baboon ripped the door off a pub and sniffed inside. Panicked patrons smashed through a window and ran off down the street, still holding their pints. A policeman ran toward the commotion, saw the baboon, then turned and ran the other way, yelling into his radio for reinforcements.

When faced with magical events, mortal eyes tended to short-circuit, sending the brain only images it could understand. I had no idea what these people thought they were seeing -possibly an escaped zoo animal -but they knew enough to flee. I wondered what the London security cameras would make of the scene later.

"Sadie," Liz said in a very small voice, "what is that?"

"Babi," I said. "The bloody god of baboons. He's taken over my granddad. And he wants to kill us."

"Excuse me," Emma said. "Did you just say a baboon god wants to kill us?"

The baboon roared, blinking and squinting as if he had forgotten what he was doing. Maybe he'd inherited Gramps's absentmindedness and bad eyesight. Maybe he didn't realize his glasses were on his head. He sniffed the ground, then bellowed in frustration and smashed the window of a bakery.

I almost believed we'd gotten a bit of good luck. Perhaps we could sneak away. Then a dark shape glided overhead, spreading its black wings and crying, "Here! Here!"

Wonderful. The baboon had air support.

"Two gods, actually," I told my friends. "Now, unless there are any more questions-run!"