Eye of Hecate

Carter

I think maybe Bast will whisk us off by magic, or at least hail a taxi. Instead, she borrows a silver Lexus convertible. 

"Oh, yes," she purrs. "I like this one! Come along, children."

"But this isn't yours," I point out.

"My dear, I'm a cat. Everything I see is mine." She touches the ignition and the keyhole sparks. The engine begins to purr. 

"Bast," I say, "you can't just—"

Sadie elbows me. "We'll work out how to return it later, Carter. Right now we've got an emergency."

She points back toward the mansion. Blue flames and smoke now billow from every window. But that isn't the scary part—coming down the stairs are four men carrying a large box, like an oversize coffin with long handles sticking out at both ends. The box is covered with a black shroud and looks big enough for at least two bodies. The four men wear only kilts and sandals. Their coppery skin glints in the sun as if made of metal.

"Oh, that's bad," Bast says. "In the car, please."

I decide not to ask questions. Sadie beats me to the shotgun seat so I climb in back. The four metallic guys with the box are racing across the yard, coming straight for us at an unbelievable speed. Before I even have my seat belt on, Bast hits the gas.

We tear through the streets of Brooklyn, weaving insanely through traffic, riding over sidewalks, narrowly missing pedestrians.

Bast drives with reflexes that are...well, catlike. Any human trying to drive so fast would have a dozen wrecks, but she gets us safely onto the Williamsburg Bridge.

I think for sure we must've lost our pursuers, but when I look back, the four copper men with the black box are weaving in and out of traffic. They appear to be jogging at a normal pace, but they pass cars that are doing fifty. Their bodies blur like choppy images in an old movie, as if they're out of sync with the regular stream of time.

"What are they?" I ask. "Shabti?"

"No, carriers." Bast glances in the rearview mirror. "Summoned straight from the Duat. They'll stop at nothing to find their victims, throw them in the sedan—"

"The what?" Sadie interrupts.

"The large box," Bast says. "It's a kind of carriage. The carriers capture you, beat you senseless, throw you in, and carry you back to their master. They never lose their prey, and they never give up."

"But what do they want us for?"

"Trust me," Bast growls, "you don't want to know."

I think about the fiery man last night in Phoenix—how he fried one of his servants into a grease spot. I'm pretty sure I don't want to meet him face-to-face again.

"Bast," I say, "if you're a goddess, can't you just snap your fingers and disintegrate those guys? Or wave your hand and teleport us away?"

"Wouldn't that be nice? But my power in this host is limited."

"You mean Muffin?" Sadie asks. "But you're not a cat anymore."

"She's still my host, Sadie, my anchor on this side of the Duat—and a very imperfect one. Your call for help allowed me to assume human shape, but that alone takes a great deal of power. Besides, even when I'm in a powerful host, Set's magic is stronger than mine."

"Could you please say something I actually understand?" I plead.

"Carter, we don't have time for a full discussion on gods and hosts and the limits of magic! We have to get you to safety."

Bast floors the accelerator and shoots up the middle of the bridge. The four carriers with the sedan race after us, blurring the air as they move, but no cars swerve to avoid them. No one panics or even looks at them.

"How can people not see them?" I say. "Don't they notice four copper men in skirts running up the bridge with a weird black box?"

Bast shrugs. "Cats can hear many sounds you can't. Some animals see things in the ultraviolet spectrum that are invisible to humans. Magic is similar. Did you notice the mansion when you first arrived?"

"Well...no."

"And you are born to magic," Bast says. "Imagine how hard it would be for a regular mortal."

"Born to magic?" I remember what Amos said about our family being in the House of Life for a long time. "If magic, like, runs in the family, why haven't I ever been able to do it before?"

Bast smiles in the mirror. "Your sister understands."

Sadie's ears turn red. "No, I don't! I still can't believe you're a goddess. All these years, you've been eating crunchy treats, sleeping on my head—"

"I made a deal with your father," Bast says. "He let me remain in the world as long as I assumed a minor form, a normal housecat, so I could protect and watch over you. It was the least I could do after—" She stops abruptly.

A horrible thought occurs to me. My stomach flutters, and it has nothing to do with how fast we're going. "After our mom's death?" I guess.

Bast stares straight ahead out the windshield.

"That's it, isn't it?" I say. "Dad and Mom did some kind of magic ritual at Cleopatra's Needle. Something went wrong. Our mom died and...and they released you?"

"That's not important right now," Bast says. "The point is I agreed to look after Sadie. And I will."

She's hiding something. I'm sure of it, but her tone makes it clear that the subject is closed.

"If you gods are so powerful and helpful," I say, "why does the House of Life forbid magicians from summoning you?"

Bast swerves into the fast lane. "Magicians are paranoid. Your best hope is to stay with me. We'll get as far away as possible from New York. Then we'll get help and challenge Set."

"What help?" Sadie asks.

Bast raises an eyebrow. "Why, we'll summon more gods, of course."

We barrel off the Williamsburg Bridge into Manhattan and head north on Clinton Street.

"They're still following," Sadie warns.

Sure enough, the carriers are only a block behind us, weaving around cars and trampling over sidewalk displays of tourist junk.

"We'll buy some time." Bast growls deep in her throat—a sound so low and powerful it makes my teeth buzz. She yanks the wheel and swerves right onto East Houston.

I look back. Just as the carriers turn the corner, a horde of cats materializes all around them. Some jump from windows. Some run from the sidewalks and alleys. Some crawl from the storm drains. All of them converge on the carriers in a wave of fur and claws—climbing up their copper legs, scratching their backs, clinging to their faces, and weighing down the sedan box. The carriers stumble, dropping the box. They begin blindly swatting at the cats. Two cars swerve to avoid the animals and collide, blocking the entire street, and the carriers go down under the mass of angry felines. We turn onto the FDR Drive, and the scene disappears from view.

"Nice," I admit.

"It won't hold them long," Bast says. "Now—Central Park!"

Bast ditches the Lexus at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

"We'll run from here," she says. "It's just behind the museum."

When she says run, she means it. Sadie and I have to sprint to keep up, and Bast isn't even breaking a sweat. She doesn't stop for little things like hot dog stands or parked cars. Anything under ten feet tall she leaps over with ease, leaving us to scramble around the obstacles as best we can.

We run into the park on the East Drive. As soon as we turn north, the obelisk looms above us. A little over seventy feet tall, it looks like an exact copy of the needle in London. It's tucked away on a grassy hill, so it actually feels isolated, which is hard to achieve in the center of New York. There's no one around except a couple of joggers farther down the path and a couple having a picnic aways away. I can hear the traffic behind us on Fifth Avenue, but even that seems far away.

We stop at the obelisk's base. Bast sniffs the air as if smelling for trouble. Once I'm standing still, I realize just how cold I am. The sun is directly overhead, but the wind rips right through my borrowed linen clothes.

"I wish I'd grabbed something warmer," I mutter. "A wool coat would be nice."

"No, it wouldn't," Bast says, scanning the horizon. "You're dressed for magic."

Sadie shivers. "We have to freeze to be magical?"

"Magicians avoid animal products," Bast says absently. "Fur, leather, wool, any of that. The residual life aura can interfere with spells."

"My boots seem all right," Sadie notes.

"Leather," Bast says with distaste. "You may have a higher tolerance, so a bit of leather won't bother your magic. I don't know. But linen clothing is always best, or cotton—plant material. At any rate, Sadie, I think we're clear for the moment. There's a window of auspicious time starting right now, at eleven thirty, but it won't last long. Get started."

Sadie blinks. "Me? Why me? You're the goddess!"

"I'm not good at portals," Bast says. "Cats are protectors. Just control your emotions. Panic or fear will kill a spell. We have to get out of here before Set summons the other gods to his cause."

I frown. "You mean Set's got, like, other evil gods on speed dial?"

Bast glances nervously toward the trees. "Evil and good may not be the best way to think of it, Carter. As a magician, you must think about chaos and order. Those are the two forces that control the universe. Set is all about chaos."

"But what about the other gods Dad released?" I persist. "Aren't they good guys? Isis, Osiris, Horus, Nephthys—where are they?"

Bast fixes her eyes on me. "That's a good question, Carter."

A Siamese cat breaks through the bushes and runs up to Bast. They look at each other for a moment. Then the Siamese dashes away.

"The carriers are close," Bast announces. "And something else...something much stronger, closing in from the east. I think the carriers' master has grown impatient."

My heart does a flip. "Set is coming?"

"No," Bast says. "Perhaps a minion. Or an ally. My cats are having trouble describing what they're seeing, and I don't want to find out."