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Bast’s ponytail puffed up as it does when she’s nervous. I’d come to realize she kept her hair in a ponytail so that her entire head wouldn’t explode into a sea urchin shape each time she got startled.
one of our hoodlums—I assumed Felix—had magically converted the fireplace into an Antarctic wonderland, complete with snow and a live penguin. Felix does love penguins.
You have a major goddess on your side”—he gestured to Bast, who was opening a can of Fancy Feast Tuna Supreme with her fingernails—“
Khufu offered me his empty Jell-O bowl as a present. Felix halfheartedly started singing “Happy Birthday,” but no one joined him, so he gave up.
Two weeks ago, you thought she was sending
you a distress call in your mashed potatoes.” “It was a Z! Carved right in the potatoes!”
With that, Bast kissed me on the forehead. “Take care, my kit.” I was too stunned to respond. I thought of Bast as Sadie’s protector. I was just kind of an add-on. But her voice held such affection, I probably blushed.
Bast had insisted we keep everyone up-to-speed on the regular subjects like math and reading, although she did sometimes add her own elective courses, such as Advanced Cat Grooming, or Napping. There was a waiting list to get into Napping.
“Felix?” I called. “No penguins.” “Aw, c’mon!” Felix believed that the answer to every problem involved penguins; but it wasn’t fair to the birds, and I was getting tired of teleporting them back home. Somewhere in Antarctica, a whole flock of Magellanic penguins was undergoing psychotherapy.
Felix took off his left shoe and lobbed it at the monster.
That sounded about as likely as Apophis and Ra becoming Facebook buddies, but I decided not to say anything.
I guess it was a compliment, but sharing space with a baboon wasn’t easy. You think dogs and cats shed? Try getting monkey hair off your clothes.
I looked across the river to Manhattan. It was a great view. When Sadie and I had first arrived at Brooklyn House, Amos had told us that magicians tried to stay out of Manhattan. He said Manhattan had other problems—whatever that meant. And sometimes when I looked across the water, I could swear I was seeing things. Sadie laughed about it, but once I thought I saw a flying horse. Probably just the mansion’s magic barriers causing optical illusions, but still, it was weird.
He leaned forward and kissed me on the lips. Then he melted into mist and disappeared. The graveyard became normal again—part of the regular, unshimmery world. I should’ve been very cross with Anubis. Kissing me without permission—the nerve!
I slipped the black razor into my pocket and clambered down the escalator, my lips still tingling from my first kiss. And if I was humming “Happy Birthday” and smiling stupidly as I fled for my life—well, that was nobody’s business, was it?
My poor friends. I’d never gotten them into this much trouble, not even when we got shut in the boys’ changing room at school. (Long story, which involved a five quid bet, Dylan Quinn’s knickers, and a squirrel. Perhaps I’ll tell you later.)
We had to hang from a rope under the griffin’s belly like a couple of Tarzans, dodging policemen, emergency workers, city officials, and several old ladies who chased after us with umbrellas screaming, “There’s the hummingbird! Kill it!”
Yes, I was there when Ra cast the Serpent into that prison of scarabs. I suppose I could remember the ingredients he used for the binding. Quite a day that was! I was wearing red, I think. At the victory feast they served the most delicious honey-baked locusts—”
I named my camel Katrina. She was a natural disaster. She slobbered everywhere and seemed to think the purple streak in my hair was some kind of exotic fruit. She was obsessed with trying to eat my head. I named Walt’s camel Hindenburg. He was almost as large as a zeppelin and definitely as full of gas.
Katrina tried to kiss, or possibly spit on Hindenburg, and Hindenburg farted in response. I found this a depressing commentary on boy-girl relationships.
“So you have to have Bebsi with your bizza?” “Brobably.”
“You missed the excitement. I tried to fight. I tried to escape. This is our third hotel room.” “The first one caught fire,” Bes said. “The second one exploded,” Walt said. “I said I was sorry.” Zia frowned.
I glanced at Carter and found he was not staring at the nurse’s face. “Carter!”
“But it’s a leap of faith,” Heket croaked. (I mean she made that sound; she didn’t die in front of us, thankfully.)
“Ancient history, Bes! I haven’t devoured a soul in…what month is this? March?
“Want a cookie,” Ra said. “What kind?” “Weasel cookie.” I’m here to tell you, that comment about weasel cookies probably saved the known universe.
Felix had unleashed a squad of penguins on another magician, who cowered in a magic circle with some sort of posttraumatic stress, screaming, “Not Antarctica again! Anything but that!”
He was holding a rugby ball—possibly because Gramps had infected him with the obsession.
He wore a bracelet on his wrist with his name written in hieroglyphs, lovingly decorated, probably by Tawaret herself.
