Demigods and Magicians Read online

  I threw it and yelled the command word ‘TAS!’ – bind – just as Camper Boy’s bronze blade cut into my wrist.

  My whole arm erupted in agony. My vision tunnelled. Yellow spots danced before my eyes. I dropped my sword and clutched my wrist, gasping for breath, everything forgotten except the excruciating pain.

  In the back of my mind, I knew Camper Boy could kill me easily. For some reason he didn’t. A wave of nausea made me double over.

  I forced myself to look at the wound. There was a lot of blood, but I remembered something Jaz had told me once in the infirmary at Brooklyn House: cuts usually looked a lot worse than they were. I hoped that was true. I fished a piece of papyrus out of my backpack and pressed it against the wound as a makeshift bandage.

  The pain was still horrible, but the nausea became more manageable. My thoughts started to clear, and I wondered why I hadn’t been skewered yet.

  Camper Boy was sitting nearby in waist-deep water, looking dejected. My magic rope had wrapped round his sword arm, then lashed his hand to the side of his head. Unable to let go of his sword, he looked like he had a single reindeer antler sprouting next to his ear. He tugged at the rope with his free hand, but of course he couldn’t make any progress.

  Finally he just sighed and glared at me. ‘I’m really starting to hate you.’

  ‘Hate me?’ I protested. ‘I’m gushing blood here! And you started all this by calling me a half-blood!’

  ‘Oh, please.’ Camper Boy rose unsteadily, his sword antenna making him top-heavy. ‘You can’t be mortal. If you were, my sword would’ve passed right through you. If you’re not a spirit or a monster, you’ve got to be a half-blood. A rogue demigod from Kronos’s army, I’d guess.’

  Most of what this guy said, I didn’t understand. But one thing sank in.

  ‘So when you said “half-blood” …’

  He stared at me like I was an idiot. ‘I meant demigod. Yeah. What did you think I meant?’

  I tried to process that. I’d heard the term demigod before, but it wasn’t an Egyptian concept. Maybe this guy was sensing that I was bound to Horus, that I could channel the god’s power … but why did he describe everything so strangely?

  ‘What are you?’ I demanded. ‘Part combat magician, part water elementalist? What nome are you with?’

  The kid laughed bitterly. ‘Dude, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t hang out with gnomes. Satyrs, sometimes. Even Cyclopes. But not gnomes.’

  The blood loss must have been making me dizzy. His words bounced around in my head like lottery balls: Cyclopes, satyrs, demigods, Kronos. Earlier he’d mentioned Ares. That was a Greek god, not Egyptian.

  I felt like the Duat was opening underneath me, threatening to pull me into the depths. Greek … not Egyptian.

  An idea started forming in my mind. I didn’t like it. In fact, it scared the holy Horus out of me.

  Despite all the swamp water I’d swallowed, my throat felt dry. ‘Look,’ I said, ‘I’m sorry about hitting you with that fist spell. It was an accident. But the thing I don’t understand … it should have killed you. It didn’t. That doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘Don’t sound so disappointed,’ he muttered. ‘But, while we’re on the subject, you should be dead too. Not many people can fight me that well. And my sword should have vaporized your crocodile.’

  ‘For the last time, it’s not my crocodile.’

  ‘Okay, whatever.’ Camper Boy looked dubious. ‘The point is I stuck that crocodile pretty good, but I just made it angry. Celestial bronze should’ve turned it to dust.’

  ‘Celestial bronze?’

  Our conversation was cut short by a scream from the nearby neighbourhood – the terrified voice of a kid.

  My heart did a slow roll. I really was an idiot. I’d forgotten why we were here.

  I locked eyes with Camper Boy. ‘We’ve got to stop the crocodile.’

  ‘Truce,’ he suggested.

  ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘We can continue killing each other after the crocodile is taken care of.’

  ‘Deal. Now, could you please untie my sword hand from my head? I feel like a freaking unicorn.’

  I won’t say we trusted each other, but at least now we had a common cause. He summoned his shoes out of the river – I had no idea how – and put them on. Then he helped me bind my hand with a strip of linen and waited while I swigged down half of my healing potion.

  After that, I felt good enough to race after him towards the sound of the screaming.

  I thought I was in pretty good shape – what with combat magic practice, hauling heavy artefacts and playing basketball with Khufu and his baboon friends (baboons don’t mess around when it comes to hoops). Nevertheless, I had to struggle to keep up with Camper Boy.

  Which reminded me, I was getting tired of calling him that.

  ‘What’s your name?’ I asked, wheezing as I ran behind him.

  He gave me a cautious glance. ‘I’m not sure I should tell you. Names can be dangerous.’

  He was right, of course. Names held power. A while back, my sister, Sadie, had learned my ren, my secret name, and it still caused me all sorts of anxiety. Even with someone’s common name, a skilled magician could work all kinds of mischief.

  ‘Fair enough,’ I said. ‘I’ll go first. I’m Carter.’

  I guess he believed me. The lines around his eyes relaxed a bit.

  ‘Percy,’ he offered.

  That struck me as an unusual name – British, maybe, though the kid spoke and acted very much like an American.

  We jumped a rotten log and finally made it out of the marsh. We’d started climbing a grassy slope towards the nearest houses when I realized more than one voice was screaming up there now. Not a good sign.

  ‘Just to warn you,’ I told Percy, ‘you can’t kill the monster.’

  ‘Watch me,’ Percy grumbled.

  ‘No, I mean it’s immortal.’

  ‘I’ve heard that before. I’ve vaporized plenty of immortals and sent them back to Tartarus.’

  Tartarus?

  I thought.

  Talking to Percy was giving me a serious headache. It reminded me of the time my dad took me to Scotland for one of his Egyptology lectures. I’d tried to talk with some of the locals and I knew they were speaking English, but every other sentence seemed to slip into an alternate language – different words, different pronunciations – and I’d wonder what the heck they were saying. Percy was like that. He and I almost spoke the same language – magic, monsters, et cetera. But his vocabulary was completely wrong.

  ‘No,’ I tried again, halfway up the hill. ‘This monster is a petsuchos – a son of Sobek.’

  ‘Who’s Sobek?’ he asked.

  ‘Lord of crocodiles. Egyptian god.’

  That stopped him in his tracks. He stared at me, and I could swear the air between us turned electric. A voice, very deep in my mind, said: Shut up. Don’t tell him any more.

  Percy glanced at the khopesh I’d retrieved from the river, then the wand in my belt. ‘Where are you from? Honestly.’

  ‘Originally?’ I asked. ‘Los Angeles. Now I live in Brooklyn.’

  That didn’t seem to make him feel any better. ‘So this monster, this pet-suck-o or whatever –’

  ‘Petsuchos,’ I said. ‘It’s a Greek word, but the monster is Egyptian. It was like the mascot of Sobek’s temple, worshipped as a living god.’

  Percy grunted. ‘You sound like Annabeth.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Nothing. Just skip the history lesson. How do we kill it?’

  ‘I told you –’

  From above came another scream, followed by a loud CRUNCH, like the sound made by a metal compactor.

  We sprinted to the top of the hill, then hopped the fence of somebody’s backyard and ran into a residential cul-de-sac.

  Except for the giant crocodile in the middle of the street, the neighbourhood could have been Anywhere, USA. Ringing the cul-de-sac were half a dozen single-sto
rey homes with well-kept front lawns, economy cars in the driveways, mailboxes at the kerb, flags hanging above the front porches.

  Unfortunately, the all-American scene was kind of ruined by the monster, who was busily eating a green Prius hatchback with a bumper sticker that read MY POODLE IS SMARTER THAN YOUR HONOUR STUDENT. Maybe the petsuchos thought the Toyota was another crocodile, and he was asserting his dominance. Maybe he just didn’t like poodles and/or honour students.

  Whatever the case, on dry land the crocodile looked even scarier than he had in the water. He was about forty feet long, as tall as a delivery truck, with a tail so massive and powerful it overturned cars every time it swished. His skin glistened blackish green and gushed water that pooled around his feet. I remembered Sobek once telling me that his divine sweat created the rivers of the world. Yuck. I guessed this monster had the same holy perspiration. Double yuck.

  The creature’s eyes glowed with a sickly yellow light. His jagged teeth gleamed white. But the weirdest thing about him was his bling. Round his neck hung an elaborate collar of gold chains and enough precious stones to buy a private island.

  The necklace was how I had realized the monster was a petsuchos, back at the marsh. I’d read that the sacred animal of Sobek wore something just like it back in Egypt, though what the monster was doing in a Long Island neighbourhood, I had no idea.

  As Percy and I took in the scene, the crocodile clamped down and bit the green Prius in half, spraying glass and metal and pieces of airbag across the lawns.

  As soon as he dropped the wreckage, half a dozen kids appeared from nowhere – apparently they’d been hiding behind some of the other cars – and charged the monster, screaming at the top of their lungs.

  I couldn’t believe it. They were just elementary-age kids, armed with nothing but water balloons and Super Soakers. I guessed that they were on summer break and had been cooling off with a water fight when the monster interrupted them.

  There were no adults in sight. Maybe they were all at work. Maybe they were inside, passed out from fright.

  The kids looked angry rather than scared. They ran round the crocodile, lobbing water balloons that splashed harmlessly against the monster’s hide.

  Useless and stupid? Yes. But I couldn’t help admiring their bravery. They were trying their best to face down a monster that had invaded their neighbourhood.

  Maybe they saw the crocodile for what it was. Maybe their mortal brains made them think it was an escaped elephant from the zoo, or a crazed FedEx delivery driver with a death wish.

  Whatever they saw, they were in danger.

  My throat closed up. I thought about my initiates back at Brooklyn House, who were no older than these kids, and my protective ‘big brother’ instincts kicked in. I charged into the street, yelling, ‘Get away from it! Run!’

  Then I threw my wand straight at the crocodile’s head. ‘Sa-mir!’

  The wand hit the croc on the snout, and blue light rippled across his body. All over the monster’s hide, the hieroglyph for pain flickered:

  Everywhere it appeared, the croc’s skin smoked and sparked, causing the monster to writhe and bellow in annoyance.

  The kids scattered, hiding behind ruined cars and mailboxes. The petsuchos turned his glowing yellow eyes on me.

  At my side, Percy whistled under his breath. ‘Well, you got his attention.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘You sure we can’t kill him?’ he asked.

  ‘Yeah.’

  The crocodile seemed to be following our conversation. His yellow eyes flicked back and forth between us, as if deciding which of us to eat first.

  ‘Even if you could destroy his body,’ I said, ‘he would just reappear somewhere nearby. That necklace? It’s enchanted with the power of Sobek. To beat the monster, we have to get that necklace off. Then the petsuchos should shrink back into a regular crocodile.’

  ‘I hate the word should,’ Percy muttered. ‘Fine. I’ll get the necklace. You keep him occupied.’

  ‘Why do I get to keep him occupied?’

  ‘Because you’re more annoying,’ Percy said. ‘Just try not to get eaten again.’

  ‘ROARR!’ the monster bellowed, his breath like a seafood restaurant’s dumpster.

  I was about to argue that Percy was plenty annoying, but I didn’t get the chance. The petsuchos charged, and my new comrade-in-arms sprinted to one side, leaving me right in the path of destruction.

  First random thought: Getting eaten twice in one day would be very embarrassing.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Percy dashing towards the monster’s right flank. I heard the mortal kids come out from their hiding places, yelling and throwing more water balloons like they were trying to protect me.

  The petsuchos lumbered towards me, his jaws opening to snap me up.

  And I got angry.

  I’d faced the worst Egyptian gods. I’d plunged into the Duat and trekked across the Land of Demons. I’d stood at the very shores of Chaos. I was not going back down to an overgrown gator.

  The air crackled with power as my combat avatar formed round me – a glowing blue exoskeleton in the shape of Horus.

  It lifted me off the ground until I was suspended in the middle of a twenty-foot-tall, hawk-headed warrior. I stepped forward, bracing myself, and the avatar mimicked my stance.

  Percy yelled, ‘Holy Hera! What the –?’

  The crocodile slammed into me.

  He nearly toppled me. His jaws closed round my avatar’s free arm, but I slashed the hawk warrior’s glowing blue sword at the crocodile’s neck.

  Maybe the petsuchos couldn’t be killed. I was at least hoping to cut through the necklace that was the source of his power.

  Unfortunately, my swing went wide. I hit the monster’s shoulder, cleaving his hide. Instead of blood, he spilled sand, which is pretty typical for Egyptian monsters. I would have enjoyed seeing him disintegrate completely, but no such luck. As soon as I yanked my blade free, the wound started closing and the sand slowed to a trickle. The crocodile whipped his head from side to side, pulling me off my feet and shaking me by the arm like a dog with a chew toy.

  When he let me go, I sailed straight into the nearest house and smashed through the roof, leaving a hawk-warrior-shaped crater in someone’s living room. I really hoped I hadn’t just flattened some defenceless mortal in the middle of watching Dr Phil.

  My vision cleared, and I saw two things that irritated me. First, the crocodile was charging me again. Second, my new friend Percy was just standing in the middle of the street, staring at me in shock. Apparently my combat avatar had startled him so much he’d forgotten his part of the plan.

  ‘What the creeping crud is that?’ he demanded. ‘You’re inside a giant glowing chicken-man!’

  ‘Hawk!’ I yelled.

  I decided that if I survived this day I would have to make sure this guy never met Sadie. They’d probably take turns insulting me for the rest of eternity. ‘A little help here?’

  Percy unfroze and ran towards the croc. As the monster closed in on me, I kicked him in the snout, which made him sneeze and shake his head long enough for me to extricate myself from the ruined house.

  Percy jumped on the creature’s tail and ran up his spine. The monster thrashed around, his hide shedding water all over the place, but somehow Percy managed to keep his footing. The guy must have practised gymnastics or something.

  Meanwhile, the mortal kids had found some better ammunition – rocks, scrap metal from the wrecked cars, even a few tyre irons – and were hurling the stuff at the monster. I didn’t want the crocodile turning his attention towards them.

  ‘HEY!’ I swung my khopesh at the croc’s face – a good solid strike that should’ve taken off his lower jaw. Instead, he somehow snapped at the blade and caught it in his mouth. We ended up wrestling for the blue glowing sword as it sizzled in his mouth, making his teeth crumble to sand. That couldn’t have felt good, but the croc held on, tugging against me.
<
br />   ‘Percy!’ I shouted. ‘Any time now!’

  Percy lunged for the necklace. He grabbed hold and started hacking at the gold links, but his bronze sword didn’t make a dent.

  Meanwhile, the croc was going crazy trying to yank away my sword. My combat avatar started to flicker.

  Summoning an avatar is a short-term thing, like sprinting at top speed. You can’t do it for very long, or you’ll collapse. Already I was sweating and breathing hard. My heart raced. My reservoirs of magic were being severely depleted.

  ‘Hurry,’ I told Percy.

  ‘Can’t cut it!’ he said.

  ‘A clasp,’ I said. ‘There’s gotta be one.’

  As soon as I said that, I spotted it – at the monster’s throat, a golden cartouche encircling the hieroglyphs that spelled sobek. ‘There – on the bottom!’

  Percy scrambled down the necklace, climbing it like a net, but at that moment my avatar collapsed. I dropped to the ground, exhausted and dizzy. The only thing that saved my life was that the crocodile had been pulling at my avatar’s sword. When the sword disappeared, the monster lurched backwards and stumbled over a Honda.

  The mortal kids scattered. One dived under a car, only to have the car disappear – smacked into the air by the croc’s tail.

  Percy reached the bottom of the necklace and hung on for dear life. His sword was gone. Probably he’d dropped it.

  Meanwhile, the monster regained his footing. The good news: he didn’t seem to notice Percy. The bad news: he definitely noticed me, and he looked mightily torqued off.

  I didn’t have the energy to run, much less summon magic to fight. At this point, the mortal kids with their water balloons and rocks had more of a chance of stopping the croc than I did.

  In the distance, sirens wailed. Somebody had called the police, which didn’t exactly cheer me up. It just meant more mortals were racing here as fast as they could to volunteer as crocodile snacks.

  I backed up to the kerb and tried – ridiculously – to stare down the monster. ‘Stay, boy.’

  The crocodile snorted. His hide shed water like the grossest fountain in the world, making my shoes slosh as I walked. His lamp-yellow eyes filmed over, maybe from happiness. He knew I was done for.