The Staff of Serapis Read online

  Finally Serapis gave her a twisted smile. ‘You have courage, girl. I’ll grant you that. And you did make haste to find me. Perhaps you can serve. You will be the first of many to give me your power, your life, your very soul!’

  ‘Sounds fun.’ Annabeth glanced at Sadie, wishing she would hurry up with that chalk art.

  ‘But first,’ Serapis said, ‘I must have my staff!’

  He gestured towards the camel. A red hieroglyph burned on the creature’s hide, and, with one final fart, the poor dromedary dissolved into a pile of sand.

  The three-headed monster got to its forepaws, shaking off the sand.

  ‘Hold it!’ Annabeth yelled.

  The monster’s three heads snarled at her.

  Serapis scowled. ‘What now, girl?’

  ‘Well, I should … you know, present the staff to you, as your high priestess! We should do things properly!’

  Annabeth lunged for the monster. It was much too heavy for her to pick up, but she stuck her dagger in her belt and used both hands to grab the end of the creature’s conical shell, dragging it backwards, away from the god.

  Meanwhile, Sadie had drawn a big circle about the size of a hula-hoop on the concrete. She was now decorating it with hieroglyphs, using several different colours of chalk.

  By all means, Annabeth thought with frustration. Take your time and make it pretty!

  She managed to smile at Serapis while holding back the staff monster that was still trying to claw its way forward.

  ‘Now, my lord,’ Annabeth said, ‘tell me your glorious plan! Something about souls and lives?’

  The staff monster howled in protest, probably because it could see Sadie hiding behind the god, doing her top-secret pavement art. Serapis didn’t seem to notice.

  ‘Behold!’ He spread his muscular arms. ‘The new centre of my power!’

  Red sparks blazed through the frozen whirlwind. A web of light connected the dots until Annabeth saw the glowing outline of the structure Serapis was building: a massive tower three hundred feet tall, designed in three tapering tiers – a square bottom, an octagonal middle and a circular top. At the zenith blazed a fire as bright as a Cyclops’s forge.

  ‘A lighthouse,’ Annabeth said. ‘The Lighthouse of Alexandria.’

  ‘Indeed, my young priestess.’ Serapis paced back and forth like a teacher giving a lecture, though his floral-print shorts were pretty distracting. His wicker-basket hat kept tilting to one side or the other, spilling grain. Somehow he still failed to notice Sadie squatting behind him, scribbling pretty pictures with her chalk.

  ‘Alexandria!’ the god cried. ‘Once the greatest city in the world, the ultimate fusion of Greek and Egyptian power! I was its supreme god, and now I have risen again. I will create my new capital here!’

  ‘Uh … in Rockaway Beach?’

  Serapis stopped and scratched his beard. ‘You have a point. That name won’t do. We will call it … Rockandria? Serapaway? Well, we’ll figure that out later! Our first step is to complete my new lighthouse. It will be a beacon to the world – drawing the deities of Ancient Greece and Egypt here to me just as it did in the old days. I shall feed on their essence and become the most powerful god of all!’

  Annabeth felt as if she’d swallowed a tablespoon of salt. ‘Feed on their essence. You mean, destroy them?’

  Serapis waved dismissively. ‘Destroy is such an ugly word. I prefer incorporate. You know my history, I hope? When Alexander the Great conquered Egypt –’

  ‘He tried to merge the Greek and Egyptian religions,’ Annabeth said.

  ‘Tried and failed.’ Serapis chuckled. ‘Alexander chose an Egyptian sun god, Amun, to be his main deity. That didn’t work too well. The Greeks didn’t like Amun. Neither did the Egyptians of the Nile Delta. They saw Amun as an upriver god. But when Alexander died his general took over Egypt.’

  ‘Ptolemy the First,’ Annabeth said.

  Serapis beamed, obviously pleased. ‘Yes … Ptolemy. Now, there was a mortal with vision!’

  It took all of Annabeth’s will not to stare at Sadie, who had now completed her magic circle and was tapping the hieroglyphs with her finger, muttering something under her breath as if to activate them.

  The three-headed staff monster snarled in disapproval. It tried to lunge forward, and Annabeth barely managed to hold him back. Her fingers were weakening. The creature’s aura was as nauseating as ever.

  ‘Ptolemy created a new god,’ she said, straining with effort. ‘He created you.’

  Serapis shrugged. ‘Well, not from scratch. I was once a minor village god. Nobody had even heard of me! But Ptolemy discovered my statue and brought it to Alexandria. He had the Greek and Egyptian priests do auguries and incantations and whatnot. They all agreed that I was the great god Serapis, and I should be worshipped above all other gods. I was an instant hit!’

  Sadie rose within her magic circle. She unlatched her silver necklace and began swinging it like a lasso.

  The three-headed monster roared what was probably a warning to its master: Look out!

  But Serapis was on a roll. As he spoke, the hieroglyphic and Greek tattoos on his skin glowed more brightly.

  ‘I became the most important god of the Greeks and Egyptians!’ he said. ‘As more people worshipped me, I drained the power of the older gods. Slowly but surely, I took their place. The Underworld? I became its master, replacing both Hades and Osiris. The guard dog Cerberus transformed into my staff, which you now hold. His three heads represent the past, present and future – all of which I will control when the staff is returned to my grasp.’

  The god held out his hand. The monster strained to reach him. Annabeth’s arm muscles burned. Her fingers began to slip.

  Sadie was still swinging her pendant, muttering an incantation.

  Holy Hecate, Annabeth thought, how long does it take to cast a stupid spell?

  She caught Sadie’s gaze and saw the message in her eyes: Hold on. Just another few seconds.

  Annabeth wasn’t sure she had a few more seconds.

  ‘The Ptolemaic dynasty …’ She gritted her teeth. ‘It fell centuries ago. Your cult was forgotten. How is it that you’re back now?’

  Serapis sniffed. ‘That’s not important. The one who awakened me … well, he has delusions of grandeur. He thinks he can control me just because he found some old spells in the Book of Thoth.’

  Behind the god, Sadie flinched as if she’d been smacked between the eyes. Apparently, this ‘Book of Thoth’ struck a chord with her.

  ‘You see,’ Serapis continued, ‘back in the day, King Ptolemy decided it wasn’t enough to make me a major god. He wanted to become immortal, too. He declared himself a god, but his magic backfired. After his death, his family was cursed for generations. The Ptolemaic line grew weaker and weaker until that silly girl Cleopatra committed suicide and gave everything to the Romans.’

  The god sneered. ‘Mortals … always so greedy. The magician who awakened me this time thinks he can do better than Ptolemy. Raising me was only one of his experiments with hybrid Greek-Egyptian magic. He wishes to make himself a god, but he has overstepped himself. I am awake now. I will control the universe.’

  Serapis fixed Annabeth with his brilliant green eyes. His features seemed to shift, reminding Annabeth of many different Olympians: Zeus, Poseidon, Hades. Something about his smile even reminded Annabeth of her mother, Athena.

  ‘Just think, little demigod,’ Serapis said, ‘this lighthouse will draw the gods to me like moths to a candle. Once I have consumed their power, I will raise a great city. I will build a new Alexandrian library with all the knowledge of the ancient world, both Greek and Egyptian. As a child of Athena, you should appreciate this. As my high priestess, think of all the power you will have!’

  A new Alexandrian library.

  Annabeth couldn’t pretend that the idea didn’t thrill her. So much knowledge of the ancient world had been destroyed when that library had burned.

  Serapis must hav
e seen the hunger in her eyes.

  ‘Yes.’ He extended his hand. ‘Enough talk, girl. Give me my staff!’

  ‘You’re right,’ Annabeth croaked. ‘Enough talk.’

  She drew her dagger and plunged it into the monster’s shell.

  So many things could have gone wrong. Most of them did.

  Annabeth was hoping the knife would split the shell, maybe even destroy the monster. Instead, it opened a tiny fissure that spewed red magic as hot as a line of magma. Annabeth stumbled back, her eyes stinging.

  Serapis bellowed, ‘TREACHERY!’ The staff creature howled and thrashed, its three heads trying in vain to reach the knife stuck in its back.

  At the same moment, Sadie cast her spell. She threw her silver necklace and yelled, ‘Tyet!’

  The pendant exploded. A giant silvery hieroglyph enveloped the god like a see-through coffin:

  Serapis roared as his arms were pinned to his side.

  Sadie shouted, ‘I name you Serapis, god of Alexandria! God of … uh, funny hats and three-headed staffs! I bind you with the power of Isis!’

  Debris began falling out of the air, crashing around Annabeth. She dodged a brick wall and a fuse box. Then she noticed the wounded staff monster crawling towards Serapis.

  She lunged in that direction, only to get smacked in the head by a falling piece of timber. She hit the floor hard, her skull throbbing, and was immediately buried in more debris.

  She took a shaky breath. ‘Ow, ow, ow.’

  At least she hadn’t been buried in bricks. She kicked her way out of a pile of plywood and plucked a six-inch splinter out of her shirt.

  The monster had made it to Serapis’s feet. Annabeth knew she should have stabbed one of the monster’s heads, but she just couldn’t make herself do it. She was always a softie when it came to animals, even if they were part of a magical evil creature trying to kill her. Now it was too late.

  The god flexed his considerable muscles. The silvery prison shattered around him. The three-headed staff flew into his hand, and Serapis turned on Sadie Kane.

  Her protective circle evaporated in a cloud of red steam.

  ‘You would bind me?’ Serapis cried. ‘You would name me? You do not even have the proper language to name me, little magician!’

  Annabeth staggered forward, but her breathing was shallow. Now that Serapis held the staff, his aura felt ten times more powerful. Annabeth’s ears buzzed. Her ankles turned to mush. She could feel her life force being drained away – vacuumed into the red halo of the god.

  Somehow, Sadie stood her ground, her expression defiant. ‘Right, Lord Cereal Bowl. You want proper language? HA-DI!’

  A new hieroglyph blazed in Serapis’s face:

  But the god swiped it out of the air with his free hand. He closed his fist and smoke shot between his fingers, as if he’d just crushed a miniature steam engine.

  Sadie gulped. ‘That’s impossible. How –’

  ‘Expecting an explosion?’ Serapis laughed. ‘Sorry to disappoint you, child, but my power is both Greek and Egyptian. It combines both, consumes both, replaces both. You are favoured of Isis, I see? Excellent. She was once my wife.’

  ‘What?’ Sadie cried. ‘No. No, no, no.’

  ‘Oh, yes! When I deposed both Osiris and Zeus, Isis was forced to serve me. Now I will use you as a gateway to summon her here and bind her. Isis will once again be my queen!’

  Serapis thrust out his staff. From each of the three monstrous mouths, red tendrils of light shot forth, encircling Sadie like thorny branches.

  Sadie screamed, and Annabeth finally overcame her shock.

  She grabbed the nearest sheet of plywood – a wobbly square about the size of a shield – and tried to remember her Ultimate Frisbee lessons from Camp Half-Blood.

  ‘Hey, Grain Head!’ she yelled.

  She twisted from the waist, using the force of her entire body. The plywood sailed through the air just as Serapis turned to look at her, and the edge smacked him between the eyes.

  ‘GAH!’

  Annabeth dived to one side as Serapis blindly thrust his staff in her direction. The three monster heads blasted super-heated plumes of vapour, melting a hole in the concrete where Annabeth had just been standing.

  She kept moving, picking her way through mounds of debris that now littered the floor. She dived behind a pile of broken toilets as the god’s staff blasted another triple column of steam in her direction, coming so close that she felt blisters rise on the back of her neck.

  Annabeth spotted Sadie about thirty yards away, on her feet and staggering away from Serapis. At least she was still alive. But Annabeth knew she would need time to recover.

  ‘Hey, Serapis!’ Annabeth called from behind the mountain of commodes. ‘How did that plywood taste?’

  ‘Child of Athena!’ the god bellowed. ‘I will devour your life force! I will use you to destroy your wretched mother! You think you are wise? You are nothing compared to the one who awakened me, and even he does not understand the power he has unleashed. None of you shall gain the crown of immortality. I control the past, present and future. I alone will rule the gods!’

  And thank you for the long speech, Annabeth thought.

  By the time Serapis blasted her position, turning the toilets into a porcelain slag heap, Annabeth had crept halfway across the room.

  She was searching for Sadie when the magician popped up from her hiding place, only ten feet away, and shouted: ‘Suh-FAH!’

  Annabeth turned as a new hieroglyph, twenty feet tall, blazed on the wall behind Serapis:

  Mortar disintegrated. The side of the building groaned, and as Serapis screamed, ‘NO!’ the entire wall collapsed on top of him in a brick tidal wave, burying him under a thousand tons of wreckage.

  Annabeth choked on a cloud of dust. Her eyes stung. She felt as if she’d been parboiled in a rice cooker, but she stumbled to Sadie’s side.

  The young magician was covered in lime powder as if she’d been rolled in sugar. She stared at the gaping hole she’d made in the side of the building.

  ‘That worked,’ she muttered.

  ‘It was genius.’ Annabeth squeezed her shoulders. ‘What spell was that?’

  ‘Loosen,’ Sadie said. ‘I reckoned … well, making things fall apart is usually easier than putting them together.’

  As if in agreement, the remaining shell of the building creaked and rumbled.

  ‘Come on.’ Annabeth took Sadie’s hand. ‘We need to get out of here. These walls –’

  The foundations shook. From beneath the rubble came a muffled roar. Shafts of red light shot from gaps in the debris.

  ‘Oh, please!’ Sadie protested. ‘He’s still alive?’

  Annabeth’s heart sank, but she wasn’t surprised. ‘He’s a god. He’s immortal.’

  ‘Well, then how –?’

  Serapis’s hand, still clutching his staff, thrust through the bricks and boards. The monster’s three heads blasted shafts of steam in all directions. Annabeth’s knife remained hilt-deep in the monster’s shell, the scar round it venting red-hot hieroglyphs, Greek letters and English curse words – thousands of years of bad language spilling free.

  Like a time line, Annabeth thought.

  Suddenly an idea clicked in her mind. ‘Past, present and future. He controls them all.’

  ‘What?’ Sadie asked.

  ‘The staff is the key,’ Annabeth said. ‘We have to destroy it.’

  ‘Yes, but –’

  Annabeth sprinted towards the pile of rubble. Her eyes were fixed on the hilt of her dagger, but she was too late.

  Serapis’s other arm broke free, then his head, his flower-basket hat crushed and leaking grain. Annabeth’s plywood Frisbee had broken his nose and blackened his eyes, leaving a mask like a raccoon’s.

  ‘Kill you!’ he bellowed, just as Sadie yelled an encore: ‘Suh-FAH!’

  Annabeth beat a hasty retreat, and Serapis screamed, ‘NO!’ as another thirty-storey section of wall collapsed on to
p of him.

  The magic must have been too much for Sadie. She crumpled like a rag doll, and Annabeth caught her just before her head hit the ground. As the remaining sections of wall shuddered and leaned inward, Annabeth scooped up the younger girl and carried her outside.

  Somehow she cleared the building before the rest of it collapsed. Annabeth heard the tremendous roar, but she wasn’t sure if it was the devastation behind her or the sound of her own skull splitting from pain and exhaustion.

  She staggered on until she reached the subway tracks. She set Sadie down gently in the weeds.

  Sadie’s eyes rolled back in her head. She muttered incoherently. Her skin felt so feverish that Annabeth had to fight down a sense of panic. Steam rose from the magician’s sleeves.

  Over by the train wreck, the mortals had noticed the new disaster. Emergency vehicles were peeling away, heading for the collapsed apartment building. A news helicopter circled overhead.

  Annabeth was tempted to yell for medical help, but, before she could, Sadie inhaled sharply. Her eyelids fluttered.

  She spat a chip of concrete out of her mouth, sat up weakly and stared at the column of dust churning into the sky from their little adventure.

  ‘Right,’ Sadie muttered. ‘What should we destroy next?’

  Annabeth sobbed with relief. ‘Thank the gods you’re okay. You were literally steaming.’

  ‘Hazard of the trade.’ Sadie brushed some dust off her face. ‘Too much magic and I can literally burn up. That’s about as close to self-immolation as I’d like to come today.’

  Annabeth nodded. She’d been jealous of all those cool spells Sadie could cast, but now she was glad to be just a demigod. ‘No more magic for you.’

  ‘Not for a while.’ Sadie grimaced. ‘I don’t suppose Serapis is defeated?’

  Annabeth gazed towards the site of the would-be lighthouse. She wanted to think the god was gone, but she knew better. She could still feel his aura disrupting the world, pulling at her soul and draining her energy.