Then I looked more closely at the staircase. Two sphinxes made of weathered stone lay on either side of the stairs, watching over the city. Each was about ten feet long with the typical lion’s body and pharaoh’s head, but they seemed totally out of place in a London park.
“Those aren’t real,” I said.
Bes snorted. “Of course they’re real.”
“I mean they aren’t from Ancient Egypt. They’re not old enough.”
“Picky, picky,” Bes said. “These are the stairs to the Crystal Palace. Big glass-and-steel exhibit hall the size of a cathedral used to sit right here on this hill.”
Sadie frowned. “I read about that in school. Queen Victoria had a party there or something.”
“A party or something?” Bes grunted. “It was the Grand Exhibition in 1851. Showcase of British Imperial might, et cetera. They had good candied apples.”
“You were there?” I asked.
Bes shrugged. “The palace burned down in the 1930s, thanks to some stupid magicians—but that’s another story. All that’s left now are a few relics, like these stairs and the sphinxes.”
“A stairway to nowhere,” I said.
“Not nowhere,” Bes corrected. “Tonight it’ll take us to St. Petersburg.”
Walt sat forward. His interest in the statues had apparently shaken him out of his gloom.
“But if the sphinxes aren’t really Egyptian,” he said, “how can they open a portal?”
Bes gave him a toothy grin. “Depends on what you mean by really Egyptian, kid. Every great empire is a wannabe Egypt. Having Egyptian stuff around makes them feel important.
That’s why you’ve got ‘new’ Egyptian artifacts in Rome, Paris,
London—you name it. That obelisk in Washington—”
“Don’t mention that one, please,” Sadie said.
“Anyway,” Bes continued, “these are still Egyptian sphinxes. They were built to play up the connection between the British Empire and the Egyptian Empire. So yeah, they can channel magic. Especially if I’m driving. And now…” He looked at Walt. “It’s probably time for you to get out.”
I was too surprised to say anything, but Walt stared at his lap as if he’d been expecting this.
“Hang on,” Sadie said. “Why can’t Walt come with us? He’s a magician. He can help.”
Bes’s expression turned serious. “Walt, you haven’t told them?”
“Told us what?” Sadie demanded.
Walt clutched his amulets, as if there might be one that would help him avoid this conversation. “It’s nothing. Really. It’s just…I should help out at Brooklyn House. And Jaz thought—”
He faltered, probably realizing that he shouldn’t have brought up her name.
“Yes?” Sadie’s tone was dangerously calm. “How’s Jaz doing?”
“She’s—she’s still in a coma,” Walt said. “Amos says she’ll probably make it, but that’s not what I—”
“Good,” Sadie said. “Glad she’ll get better. So you need to get back, then. That’s brilliant. Off you go. Anubis said we should hurry.”
Not very subtle, the way she threw his name out there. Walt looked like she’d kicked him in the chest.
I knew Sadie wasn’t being fair to him. From my conversation with Walt back at Brooklyn House, I knew he liked Sadie. Whatever was bothering him, it wasn’t any kind of romantic thing with Jaz. On the other hand, if I tried to take his side, Sadie would just tell me to butt out. I might even make things worse between Sadie and him.
“It’s not that I want to go back,” he managed.