I gasped for breath. My throat felt like it was packed with hot coals.
Thoth stood over me, looking grim and tired. His eyes swirled with kaleidoscopic colors, like portals to another world.
“Carter Kane.” He offered me a hand and helped me up.
All the other demons were gone. Walt stood at the peak of the pyramid with the baboons and ibises, who were climbing over the golden sphinx lady like she was a merry-go-round animal. Freak hovered nearby, looking full and happy from eating so many demons.
“You shouldn’t have come,” Thoth chided. He brushed demon dust off his T-shirt, which had a flaming heart logo and the words HOUSE OF BLUES. “It was much too dangerous, especially for Walt.”
“You’re welcome,” I croaked. “It looked like you needed help.”
“The demons?” Thoth waved dismissively. “They’ll be back just before sunrise. They’ve been attacking every six hours for the past week. Quite annoying.”
“Every six hours?” I tried to imagine that. If Thoth had been fighting off an army like that several times a day for a week…I didn’t see how even a god could have that much power.
“Where are the other gods?” I asked. “Shouldn’t they be helping you?”
Thoth wrinkled his nose as if he smelled a demon with intestinal problems. “Perhaps you and Walt should come inside. Now that you’re here, we have a lot to talk about.”
I’ll say this for Thoth. He knew how to decorate a pyramid.
The former arena’s basketball court was still there, no doubt so his baboons could play. (Baboons love basketball.) The JumboTron still hung from the ceiling, flashing a series of hieroglyphs that announced things like: GO TEAM! DEFENSE! and THOTH 25—DEMONS 0 in Ancient Egyptian.
The stadium seating had been replaced with a series of tiered balconies. Some were lined with computer stations, like mission control for a rocket launch. Others had chemistry tables cluttered with beakers, Bunsen burners, vials of smoking goo, jars of pickled organs, and stranger things. The nosebleed section was devoted to scroll cubbies—a library easily as big as the one in the First Nome. And behind the left backboard rose a three-story-tall whiteboard covered in computations and hieroglyphs.
Hanging from the girders, instead of championship banners and retired numbers, were black tapestries embroidered with gold incantations.
Courtside was Thoth’s living area—a freestanding gourmet kitchen, a plush collection of couches and easy chairs, piles of books, buckets of Legos and Tinker Toys, a dozen flat-screen TVs showing different news programs and documentaries, and a small forest of electric guitars and amplifiers—everything a scatterbrained god needed to be able to do twenty things at once.
&n
bsp; Thoth’s baboons took Freak into the locker room to groom him and let him rest. I think they were worried he might eat the ibises, since they did look a bit like turkeys.
Thoth turned to Walt and me, looking us over critically. “You need rest. Then I’ll fix you some dinner.”
“We don’t have time,” I said. “We have to—”
“Carter Kane,” Thoth scolded. “You’ve just battled Apophis, gotten the Horus knocked out of you, been dragged through the Duat and half-strangled. You’re no good to anyone until you get some sleep.”
I wanted to protest, but Thoth pressed his hand to my forehead. Weariness washed over me.
“Rest,” Thoth insisted.
I collapsed on the nearest couch.
I’m not sure how long I slept, but Walt got up first. When I woke, he and Thoth were deep in conversation.
“No,” Thoth said. “It’s never been done. And I’m afraid you don’t have time.…” He faltered when he noticed me sitting up. “Ah. Good, Carter. You’re awake.”
“What did I miss?”
“Nothing,” he said, a little too cheerily. “Come and eat.”
His kitchen counter was laden with fresh-cut brisket, sausage, ribs, and cornbread, plus an industrial-sized dispenser of iced tea. Thoth had once told me that barbecue was a form of magic, and I guess he was right. The smell of food made me temporarily forget my troubles.
I scarfed down a brisket sandwich and drank two glasses of tea. Walt nibbled on a rib, but he didn’t seem to have much of an appetite.
Meanwhile Thoth picked up a Gibson guitar. He struck a power chord that shook the arena floor. He’d gotten better since I’d last heard him. The chord actually sounded like a chord, not like a mountain goat being tortured.