Isis looked at me sadly. “You know that’s not what I mean. Set is only the beginning.”
The image changed, and I saw London in ruins. I’d seen some horrific photos of the Blitz in World War II, but that was nothing compared to this. The city was leveled: rubble and dust for miles, the Thames choked with flotsam. The only thing standing was the obelisk, and as I watched, it began to crack open, all four sides peeling away like some ghastly flower unfolding.
“Don’t show me this,” I pleaded.
“It will happen soon enough,” Isis said, “as your mother foresaw. But if you cannot face it...”
The scene changed again. We stood in the throne room of a palace—the same one I’d seen before, where Set had entombed Osiris. The gods were gathering, materializing as streams of light that shot through the throne room, curled round the pillars, and took on human form. One became Thoth with his stained lab coat, his wire-rimmed glasses, and his hair standing out all over his head. Another became Horus, the proud young warrior with silver and gold eyes. Sobek, the crocodile god, gripped his watery staff and snarled at me. A mass of scorpions scuttled behind a column and emerged on the other side as Serqet, the brown-robed arachnid goddess. Then my heart leaped, because I noticed a boy in black standing in the shadows behind the throne: Anubis, his dark eyes studying me with regret.
He pointed at the throne, and I saw it was empty. The palace was missing its heart. The room was cold and dark, and it was impossible to believe this had once been a place of celebrations.
Isis turned to me. “We need a ruler. Horus must become pharaoh. He must unite the gods and the House of Life. It is the only way.”
“You can’t mean Carter,” I said. “My mess of a brother—pharaoh? Are you joking?”
“We have to help him. You and I.”
The idea was so ridiculous I would have laughed had the gods not been staring at me so gravely.
“Help him?” I said. “Why doesn’t he help me become pharaoh?”
“There have been strong women pharaohs,” Isis admitted. “Hatshepsut ruled well for many years. Nefertiti’s power was equal to her husband’s. But you have a different path, Sadie. Your power will not come from sitting on a throne. I think you know this.”
I looked at the throne, and I realized Isis had a point. The idea of sitting there with a crown on my head, trying to rule this lot of bad-tempered gods, did not appeal to me in the slightest. Still...Carter?
“You’ve grown strong, Sadie,” Isis said. “I don’t think you realize how strong. Soon, we will face the test together. We will prevail, if you maintain your courage and faith.”
“Courage and faith,” I said. “Not my two strong suits.”
“Your moment comes,” Isis said. “We depend on you.”
The gods gathered round, staring at me expectantly. They began to crowd in, pressing so close I couldn’t breathe, grabbing my arms, shaking me....
I woke to find Zia poking my shoulder. “Sadie, we’ve stopped.”
I instinctively reached for my wand. “What? Where?”
Zia pushed aside the curtains of the sleeping berth and leaned over me from the front seat, unnervingly like a vulture. “Amos and Carter are in the gas station. You need to be prepared to move.”
“Why?” I sat up and looked out the windshield, straight into a raging sandstorm. “Oh...”
The sky was black, so it was impossible to tell if it was day or night. Through the gale of wind and sand, I could see we were parked in front of a lighted petrol station.
“We’re in Phoenix,” Zia said, “but most of the city is shut down. People are evacuating.”
“Time?”
“Half past four in the morning,” Zia said. “Magic isn’t working very well. The closer we get to the mountain, the worse it is. And the truck’s GPS system is down. Amos and Carter went inside to ask directions.”
That didn’t sound promising. If two male magicians were desperate enough to stop for directions, we were in dire straits.
The truck’s cab shook in the howling wind. After all we’d been through, I felt silly being scared of a storm, but I climbed over the seat so I could sit next to Zia and have some company.
“How long have they been in there?” I asked.
“Not long,” Zia said. “I wanted to talk to you before they come back.”
I raised an eyebrow. “About Carter? Well, if you’re wondering whether he likes you, the way he stammers might be an indication.”
Zia frowned. “No, I’m—”
“Asking if I mind? Very considerate. I must say at first I had my doubts, what with you threatening to kill us and all, but I’ve decided you’re not a bad sort, and Carter’s mad about you, so—”
“It’s not about Carter.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Oops. Could you just forget what I said, then?”
“It’s about Set.”
“God,” I sighed. “Not this again. Still suspicious of Amos?”
“You’re blind not to see it,” Zia said. “Set loves deception and traps. It is his favorite way to kill.”
Part of me knew she had a point. No doubt you’ll think I was foolish not to listen. But have you ever sat by while someone talks badly about a member of your family? Even if it’s not your favorite relative, the natural reaction is to defend them—at least it was for me, possibly because I didn’t have that much family to begin with. “Look, Zia, I can’t believe Amos would—”