Part 11 (1/2)
I staggered to my feet and realized that the center of the blast had been m.u.f.fin. My cat was no longer there. In her place was a woman-small and lithe like a gymnast. Her jet-black hair was tied in a ponytail. She wore a skintight leopard-skin jumpsuit and m.u.f.fin's pendant around her neck.
She turned and grinned at me, and her eyes were still m.u.f.fin's-yellow with black feline pupils. ”About time,” she chided.
The serpopards got over their shock and charged the cat woman. Their heads struck with lightning speed. They should've ripped her in two, but the cat lady leaped straight up, flipping three times, and landed above them, perched on the mantel.
She flexed her wrists, and two enormous knives shot from her sleeves into her hands. ”A-a-ah, fun!”
The monsters charged. She launched herself between them, dancing and dodging with incredible grace, letting them lash at her futilely while she threaded their necks together. When she stepped away, the serpopards were hopelessly intertwined. The more they struggled, the tighter the knots became. They trampled back and forth, knocking over furniture and roaring in frustration.
”Poor things,” the cat woman purred. ”Let me help.”
Her knives flashed, and the two monsters' heads thudded to the floor at her feet. Their bodies collapsed and dissolved into enormous piles of sand.
”So much for my playthings,” the woman said sadly. ”From sand they come, and to sand they return.”
She turned towards us, and the knives shot back into her sleeves. ”Carter, Sadie, we should leave. Worse will be coming.”
Carter made a choking sound. ”Worse? Who-how-what-”
”All in good time.” The woman stretched her arms above her head with great satisfaction. ”So good to be in human form again! Now, Sadie, can you open us a door through the Duat, please?”
I blinked. ”Um...no. I mean-I don't know how.”
The woman narrowed her eyes, clearly disappointed. ”Shame. We'll need more power, then. An obelisk.”
”But that's in London,” I protested. ”We can't-”
”There's a nearer one in Central Park. I try to avoid Manhattan, but this is an emergency. We'll just pop over and open a portal.”
”A portal to where?” I demanded. ”Who are you, and why are you my cat?”
The woman smiled. ”For now, we just want a portal out of danger. As for my name, it's not m.u.f.fin, thank you very much. It's-”
”Bast,” Carter interrupted. ”Your pendant-it's the symbol of Bast, G.o.ddess of cats. I thought it was just decoration but...that's you, isn't it?”
”Very good, Carter,” Bast said. ”Now come, while we can still make it out of here alive.”
C A R T E R.
9. We Run from Four Guys in Skirts.
SO, YEAH. OUR CAT WAS A G.o.dDESS.
What else is new?
She didn't give us much time to talk about it. She ordered me to the library to grab my dad's magic kit, and when I came back she was arguing with Sadie about Khufu and Philip.
”We have to search for them!” Sadie insisted.
”They'll be fine,” said Bast. ”However, we will not be, unless we leave now.”
I raised my hand. ”Um, excuse me, Miss G.o.ddess Lady? Amos told us the house was-”
”Safe?” Bast snorted. ”Carter, the defenses were too easily breached. Someone sabotaged them.”
”What do you mean? Who-”
”Only a magician of the House could've done it.”
”Another magician?” I asked. ”Why would another magician want to sabotage Amos's house?”
”Oh, Carter,” Bast sighed. ”So young, so innocent. Magicians are devious creatures. Could be a million reasons why one would backstab another, but we don't have time to discuss it. Now, come on!”
She grabbed our arms and led us out the front door. She'd sheathed her knives, but she still had some wicked sharp claws for fingernails that hurt as they dug into my skin. As soon as we stepped outside, the cold wind stung my eyes. We climbed down a long flight of metal stairs into the industrial yard that surrounded the factory.
Dad's workbag was heavy on my shoulder. The curved sword I'd strapped across my back felt cold against my thin linen clothes. I'd started to sweat during the serpopard attack, and now my perspiration felt like it was turning to ice.
I looked around for more monsters, but the yard seemed abandoned. Old construction equipment lay in rusting heaps-a bulldozer, a crane with a wrecking ball, a couple of cement mixers. Piles of sheet metal and stacks of crates made a maze of obstacles between the house and the street a few hundred yards away.
We were about halfway across the yard when an old gray tomcat stepped in our path. One of his ears was torn. His left eye was swollen shut. Judging from his scars, he'd spent most of his life fighting.
Bast crouched and stared at the cat. He looked up at her calmly.
”Thank you,” Bast said.
The old tomcat trotted off toward the river.
”What was that about?” Sadie asked.
”One of my subjects, offering help. He'll spread the news about our predicament. Soon every cat in New York will be on alert.”
”He was so battered,” Sadie said. ”If he's your subject, couldn't you heal him?”
”And take away his marks of honor? A cat's battle scars are part of his ident.i.ty. I couldn't-” Suddenly Bast tensed. She dragged us behind a stack of crates.