“Nephthys,” said the dwarf. “Long time.” The water goddess looked down at Zia, who was shivering in my arms, still gasping for breath. “I am sorry for using her as a host,” Nephthys said. “It was a poor choice, which almost destroyed us both. Guard her well, Carter Kane. She has a good heart, and an important destiny.” “What destiny?” I asked. “How do I protect her?” Instead of answering, the spirit of Nephthys melted into the Nile. Bes grunted with approval. “The Nile’s where she should be. That’s her proper body.” Zia sputtered and doubled over. “She still can’t breathe!” I did the only thing I could think of. I tried mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Yes, okay, I know how that sounds, but I wasn’t thinking straight. [Stop laughing, Sadie.] Honestly, I wasn’t trying to take advantage. I was just trying to help. Zia didn’t see it that way. She punched me in the chest so hard, I made a sound like a squeaky toy. Then she turned to one side and retched. I didn’t think my breath was that bad. When she focused on me again, her eyes blazed with anger —just like old times. “Don’t you dare kiss me!” she managed. “I wasn’t—I didn’t—” “Where’s Iskandar?” she demanded. “I thought…” Her eyes lost their focus. “I had a dream that…” She started to tremble. “Eternal Egypt, he’s not…He can’t be—” “Zia—” I tried to put my hand on her shoulder, but she pushed me away. She turned toward the river and began to sob, her fingers clawing the mud. I wanted to help her. I couldn’t stand to see her in pain. But I looked at Bes, and he tapped his bloody nose, as if warning me: Go slow, or she’ll give you one of these. “Zia, we’ve got a lot to talk about,” I said, trying not to sound heartbroken. “Let’s get you away from the river.”
She sat on the steps of her own tomb and hugged her arms. Her clothes and hair were starting to dry, but in spite of the warm night and the dry wind from the desert, she still trembled. At my request, Bes brought up her staff and wand from the tomb, along with the crook and flail, but he didn’t look happy about it. He handled the items as if they were toxic. I tried to explain things to Zia: about the shabti, Iskandar’s death, Desjardins’ becoming the Chief Lector, and what had transpired in the last three months since the battle with Set, but I’m not sure how much she heard. She kept shaking her head, pressing her hands over her ears. “Iskandar can’t be dead.” Her voice quavered. “He wouldn’t have…he wouldn’t have done this to me.” “He was trying to protect you,” I said. “He didn’t know you’d have nightmares. I’ve been looking for you—” “Why?” she demanded. “What do you want from me? I remember you from London, but after that—” “I met your shabti in New York. She—you—took Sadie and me to the First Nome. You started our training. We worked together in New Mexico, then at the Red Pyramid—” “No.” She shut her eyes tight. “No, that wasn’t me.” “But you can remember what the shabti did. Just try—”