The Complete Kane Chronicles (6 page)

“Oh, Khufu likes you,” Amos said. “You’ll get along famously.”

“Right.” Sadie looked dazed. “You’ve got a monkey butler. Why not?”

Muffin purred in Sadie’s arms as if the baboon didn’t bother her at all.

“Agh!”
Khufu grunted at me.

Amos chuckled. “He wants to go one-on-one with you, Carter. To, ah, see your game.”

I shifted from foot to foot. “Um, yeah. Sure. Maybe tomorrow. But how can you understand—”

“Carter, I’m afraid you’ll have a lot to get used to,” Amos said. “But if you’re going to survive and save your father, you have to get some rest.”

“Sorry,” Sadie said, “did you say ‘survive and save our father’? Could you expand on that?”

“Tomorrow,” Amos said. “We’ll begin your orientation in the morning. Khufu, show them to their rooms, please.”

“Agh-uhh!”
the baboon grunted. He turned and waddled up the stairs. Unfortunately, the Lakers jersey didn’t completely cover his multicolored rear.

We were about to follow when Amos said, “Carter, the workbag, please. It’s best if I lock it in the library.”

I hesitated. I’d almost forgotten the bag on my shoulder, but it was all I had left of my father. I didn’t even have our luggage because it was still locked up at the British Museum. Honestly, I’d been surprised that the police hadn’t taken the workbag too, but none of them seemed to notice it.

“You’ll get it back,” Amos promised. “When the time is right.”

He asked nicely enough, but something in his eyes told me that I really didn’t have a choice.

I handed over the bag. Amos took it gingerly, as if it were full of explosives.

“See you in the morning.” He turned and strode toward the chained-up doors. They unlatched themselves and opened just enough for Amos to slip through without showing us anything on the other side. Then the chains locked again behind him.

I looked at Sadie, unsure what to do. Staying by ourselves in the Great Room with the creepy statue of Thoth didn’t seem like much fun, so we followed Khufu up the stairs.

Sadie and I got adjoining rooms on the third floor, and I’ve got to admit, they were way cooler than any place I’d ever stayed before.

I had my own kitchenette, fully stocked with my favorite snacks: ginger ale—[No, Sadie. It’s not an old person’s soda! Be quiet!]—Twix, and Skittles. It seemed impossible. How did Amos know what I liked? The TV, computer, and stereo system were totally high-tech. The bathroom was stocked with my regular brand of toothpaste, deodorant, everything. The king-size bed was awesome, too, though the pillow was a little strange. Instead of a cloth pillow, it was an ivory headrest like I’d seen in Egyptian tombs. It was decorated with lions and (of course) more hieroglyphs.

The room even had a deck that looked out on New York Harbor, with views of Manhattan and the Statue of Liberty in the distance, but the sliding glass doors were locked shut somehow. That was my first indication that something was wrong.

I turned to look for Khufu, but he was gone. The door to my room was shut. I tried to open it, but it was locked.

A muffled voice came from the next room. “Carter?”

“Sadie.” I tried the door to her adjoining room, but it was locked too.

“We’re prisoners,” she said. “Do you think Amos…I mean, can we trust him?”

After all I’d seen today, I didn’t trust anything, but I could hear the fear in Sadie’s voice. It triggered an unfamiliar feeling in me, like I needed to reassure her. The idea seemed ridiculous. Sadie had always seemed so much braver than me—doing what she wanted, never caring about the consequences. I was the one who got scared. But right now, I felt like I needed to play a role I hadn’t played in a long, long time: big brother.

“It’ll be okay.” I tried to sound confident. “Look, if Amos wanted to hurt us, he could’ve done it by now. Try to get some sleep.”

“Carter?”

“Yeah?”

“It was magic, wasn’t it? What happened to Dad at the museum. Amos’s boat. This house. All of it’s magic.”

“I think so.”

I could hear her sigh. “Good. At least I’m not going mad.”

“Don’t let the bedbugs bite,” I called. And I realized I hadn’t said that to Sadie since we had lived together in Los Angeles, when Mom was still alive.

“I miss Dad,” she said. “I hardly ever saw him, I know, but…I miss him.”

My eyes got a little teary, but I took a deep breath. I was
not
going to go all weak. Sadie needed me. Dad needed us.

“We’ll find him,” I told her. “Pleasant dreams.”

I listened, but the only thing I heard was Muffin meowing and scampering around, exploring her new space. At least
she
didn’t seem unhappy.

I got ready for bed and crawled in. The covers were comfortable and warm, but the pillow was just too weird. It gave me neck cramps, so I put it on the floor and went to sleep without it.

My first big mistake.

C A R T E R

HOW TO DESCRIBE IT
? Not a nightmare. It was much more real and frightening.

As I slept, I felt myself go weightless. I drifted up, turned, and saw my own sleeping form below.

I’m dying,
I thought. But that wasn’t it, either. I wasn’t a ghost. I had a new shimmering golden form with wings instead of arms. I was some kind of bird. [No, Sadie, not a chicken. Will you let me tell the story, please?]

I knew I wasn’t dreaming, because I don’t dream in color. I certainly don’t dream in all five senses. The room smelled faintly of jasmine. I could hear the carbonation bubbles pinging in the can of ginger ale I’d opened on my nightstand. I could feel a cold wind ruffling through my feathers, and I realized the windows were open. I didn’t want to leave, but a strong current pulled me out of the room like a leaf in a storm.

The lights of the mansion faded below me. The skyline of New York blurred and disappeared. I shot through the mist and darkness, strange voices whispering all around me. My stomach tingled as it had earlier that night on Amos’s barge. Then the mist cleared, and I was in a different place.

I floated above a barren mountain. Far below, a grid of city lights stretched across the valley floor. Definitely not New York. It was nighttime, but I could tell I was in the desert. The wind was so dry, the skin on my face was like paper. And I know that doesn’t make sense, but my face felt like my normal face, as if that part of me hadn’t transformed into a bird. [Fine, Sadie. Call me the Carter-headed chicken. Happy?]

Below me on a ridge stood two figures. They didn’t seem to notice me, and I realized I wasn’t glowing anymore. In fact I was pretty much invisible, floating in the darkness. I couldn’t make out the two figures clearly, except to recognize that they weren’t human. Staring harder, I could see that one was short, squat, and hairless, with slimy skin that glistened in the starlight—like an amphibian standing on its hind legs. The other was tall and scarecrow skinny, with rooster claws instead of feet. I couldn’t see his face very well, but it looked red and moist and…well, let’s just say I was glad I couldn’t see it better.

“Where is he?” the toadie-looking one croaked nervously.

“Hasn’t taken a permanent host yet,” the rooster-footed guy chided. “He can only appear for a short time.”

“You’re sure this is the place?”

“Yes, fool! He’ll be here as soon—”

A fiery form appeared on the ridge. The two creatures fell to the ground, groveling in the dirt, and I prayed like crazy that I really was invisible.

“My lord!” the toad said.

Even in the dark, the newcomer was hard to see—just the silhouette of a man outlined in flames.

“What do they call this place?” the man asked. And as soon as he spoke, I knew for sure he was the guy who’d attacked my dad at the British Museum. All the fear I’d felt at the museum came rushing back, paralyzing me. I remembered trying to pick up that stupid rock to throw, but I hadn’t been able to do even that. I’d completely failed my dad.

“My lord,” Rooster Foot said. “The mountain is called Camelback. The city is called Phoenix.”

The fiery man laughed—a booming sound like thunder. “Phoenix. How appropriate! And the desert so much like home. All it needs now is to be scoured of life. The desert should be a sterile place, don’t you think?”

“Oh yes, my lord,” the toadie agreed. “But what of the other four?”

“One is already entombed,” the fiery man said. “The second is weak. She will be easily manipulated. That leaves only two. And they will be dealt with soon enough.”

“Er…how?” the toadie asked.

The fiery man glowed brighter. “You are an inquisitive little tadpole, aren’t you?” He pointed at the toad and the poor creature’s skin began to steam.

“No!” the toadie begged. “No-o-o-o!”

I could hardly watch. I don’t want to describe it. But if you’ve heard what happens when cruel kids pour salt on snails, you’ll have a pretty good idea of what happened to the toadie. Soon there was nothing left.

Rooster Foot took a nervous step back. I couldn’t blame him.

“We will build my temple here,” the fiery man said, as if nothing had happened. “This mountain shall serve as my place of worship. When it is complete, I will summon the greatest storm ever known. I will cleanse everything.
Everything.
”

“Yes, my lord,” Rooster Foot agreed quickly. “And, ah, if I may suggest, my lord, to increase your power…” The creature bowed and scraped and moved forward, as if he wanted to whisper in the fiery man’s ear.

Just when I thought Rooster Foot was going to become fried chicken for sure, he said something to the fiery dude that I couldn’t make out, and the fiery dude burned brighter.

“Excellent! If you can do this, you will be rewarded. If not…”

“I understand, my lord.”

“Go then,” the fiery man said. “Unleash our forces. Start with the longnecks. That should soften them up. Collect the younglings and bring them to me. I want them alive, before they have time to learn their powers. Do not fail me.”

“No, lord.”

“Phoenix,” the fiery man mused. “I like that very much.” He swept his hand across the horizon, as if he were imagining the city in flames. “Soon I will rise from your ashes. It will be a lovely birthday present.”

I woke with my heart pounding, back in my own body. I felt hot, as if the fiery guy were starting to burn me. Then I realized that there was a cat on my chest.

Muffin stared at me, her eyes half closed.
“Mrow.”

“How did you get in?” I muttered.

I sat up, and for a second I wasn’t sure where I was. Some hotel in another city? I almost called for my dad…and then I remembered.

Yesterday. The museum. The sarcophagus.

It all crashed down on me so hard I could barely breathe.

Stop,
I told myself.
You don’t have time for grief.
And this is going to sound weird, but the voice in my head almost sounded like a different person—older, stronger. Either that was a good sign, or I was going crazy.

Remember what you saw,
the voice said. He’s after you.
You have to be ready.

I shivered. I wanted to believe I’d just had a bad dream, but I knew better. I’d
been
through too much in the last day to doubt what I’d seen. Somehow, I’d actually left my body while I slept. I’d been to Phoenix—thousands of miles away. The fiery dude was there. I hadn’t understood much of what he’d said, but he’d talked about sending his forces to capture the younglings. Gee, wonder who that could be?

Muffin jumped off the bed and sniffed at the ivory headrest, looking up at me as if she were trying to tell me something.

“You can have it,” I told her. “It’s uncomfortable.”

She butted her head against it and stared at me accusingly.
“Mrow.”

“Whatever, cat.”

I got up and showered. When I tried to get dressed, I found that my old clothes had disappeared in the night. Everything in the closet was my size, but way different than what I was used to—baggy drawstring pants and loose shirts, all plain white linen, and robes for cold weather, kind of what the
fellahin
, the peasants in Egypt, wear. It wasn’t exactly my style.

Sadie likes to tell me that I don’t
have
a style. She complains that I dress like I’m an old man—button-down shirt, slacks, dress shoes. Okay, maybe. But here’s the thing. My dad had always drilled into my head that I had to dress my best.

I remember the first time he explained it to me. I was ten. We were on our way to the airport in Athens, and it was like 112 degrees outside, and I was complaining that I wanted to wear shorts and a T-shirt. Why couldn’t I be comfortable? We weren’t going anywhere important that day—just traveling.

My dad put his hand on my shoulder. “Carter, you’re getting older. You’re an African American man. People will judge you more harshly, and so you must always look impeccable.”

“That isn’t fair!” I insisted.

“Fairness does not mean everyone gets the same,” Dad said. “Fairness means everyone gets what they need. And the only way to get what you need is to make it happen
yourself.
Do you understand?”

I told him I didn’t. But still I did what he asked—like caring about Egypt, and basketball, and music. Like traveling with only one suitcase. I dressed the way Dad wanted me to, because Dad was usually right. In fact I’d never known him to be wrong…until the night at the British Museum.

Anyway, I put on the linen clothes from the closet. The slipper shoes were comfortable, though I doubted they’d be much good to run in.

The door to Sadie’s room was open, but she wasn’t there.

Thankfully my bedroom door wasn’t locked anymore. Muffin joined me and we walked downstairs, passing a lot of unoccupied bedrooms on the way. The mansion could’ve easily slept a hundred people, but instead it felt empty and sad.

Down in the Great Room, Khufu the baboon sat on the sofa with a basketball between his legs and a chunk of strange-looking meat in his hands. It was covered in pink feathers. ESPN was on the television, and Khufu was watching highlights from the games the night before.

“Hey,” I said, though I felt a little weird talking to him. “Lakers win?”

Khufu looked at me and patted his basketball like he wanted a game.
“Agh, agh.”

He had a pink feather hanging from his chin, and the sight made my stomach do a slow roll.

“Um, yeah,” I said. “We’ll play later, okay?”

I could see Sadie and Amos out on the terrace, eating breakfast by the pool. It should’ve been freezing out there, but the fire pit was blazing, and neither Amos nor Sadie looked cold. I headed their way, then hesitated in front of the statue of Thoth. In the daylight, the bird-headed god didn’t look quite so scary. Still, I could swear those beady eyes were watching me expectantly.

What had the fiery guy said last night? Something about catching us before we learned our powers. It sounded ridiculous, but for a moment I felt a surge of strength—like the night before when I’d opened the front door just by raising my hand. I felt like I could lift anything, even this thirty-foot-tall statue if I wanted to. In a kind of trance, I stepped forward.

Muffin meowed impatiently and butted my foot. The feeling dissolved.

“You’re right,” I told the cat. “Stupid idea.”

Besides, I could smell breakfast now—French toast, bacon, hot chocolate—and I couldn’t blame Muffin for being in a hurry. I followed her out to the terrace.

“Ah, Carter,” Amos said. “Merry Christmas, my boy. Join us.”

“About time,” Sadie grumbled. “I’ve been up for ages.”

But she held my eyes for a moment, like she was thinking the same thing I was:
Christmas.
We hadn’t spent a Christmas morning together since Mom died. I wondered if Sadie remembered how we used to make god’s-eye decorations out of yarn and Popsicle sticks.

Amos poured himself a cup of coffee. His clothes were similar to those he’d worn the day before, and I had to admit the guy had style. His tailored suit was made of blue wool, he wore a matching fedora, and his hair was freshly braided with dark blue lapis lazuli, one of the stones the Egyptians often used for jewelry. Even his glasses matched. The round lenses were tinted blue. A tenor sax rested on a stand near the fire pit, and I could totally picture him playing out here, serenading the East River.

As for Sadie, she was dressed in a white linen pajama outfit like me, but somehow she’d managed to keep her combat boots. She’d probably slept with them on. She looked pretty comical with the red-streaked hair and the outfit, but since I wasn’t dressed any better, I could hardly make fun of her.

“Um…Amos?” I asked. “You didn’t have any pet birds, did you? Khufu’s eating something with pink feathers.”

“Mmm.”
Amos sipped his coffee. “Sorry if that disturbed you. Khufu’s very picky. He only eats foods that end in
-o.
Doritos, burritos, flamingos.”

I blinked. “Did you say—”

“Carter,” Sadie warned. She looked a little queasy, like she’d already had this conversation. “Don’t ask.”

“Okay,” I said. “Not asking.”

“Please, Carter, help yourself.” Amos waved toward a buffet table piled high with food. “Then we can get started with the explanations.”

I didn’t see any flamingo on the buffet table, which was fine by me, but there was just about everything else. I snagged some pancakes with butter and syrup, some bacon, and a glass of OJ.

Then I noticed movement in the corner of my eye. I glanced at the swimming pool. Something long and pale was gliding just under the surface of the water.

I almost dropped my plate. “Is that—”

“A crocodile,” Amos confirmed. “For good luck. He’s albino, but please don’t mention that. He’s sensitive.”

“His name is Philip of Macedonia,” Sadie informed me.

I wasn’t sure how Sadie was taking this all so calmly, but I figured if she wasn’t freaking out, I shouldn’t either.

“That’s a long name,” I said.

“He’s a long crocodile,” Sadie said. “Oh, and he likes bacon.”