“That's that,” Simon muttered to himself, watching her speeding form disappear in the distance, much faster than a normal human could have.

  Not good, chided a voice, which was, despite its tone of fake regret, clearly delighted by his outburst, inside his head. Simon ignored it. He didn't have time to feel guilty about hurting Nefertari's feelings the moment. Horus still hadn't come out of the black bubble coating Zawte, and he, Simon, could only guess what the boy god was doing, and none of the envisaged scenarios were desirable.

  Simon, feeling much more anxious, panicky and idiotic now than he had just a minute ago when he had been shouting at Nefertari, braced himself to face off the apophi and their malicious master. His heart pounding frantically against his ribcage, he did the one thing that went against every fibre of his being: He turned back to the gates and ventured into the darkness once more.

  Despite the glowing beacon of the Infinity Key, as a torch, the journey through Zawte in the darkness was anything but easy. Several times, Simon had to dodge apophi on their mounts, and the stink of burnt, rotting flesh nearly took away his breath.

  Yet he went on, feeling much less brave now that Nefertari was gone. He couldn't help wonder why the darkness wasn't clearing, either. Nefertari had to be well away from the settlement now, or had she been captured after all?

  Lost in thought, Simon collided with something firm once more. He looked up into two milky eyes, which he now saw were tinted with a hint of green. Momentarily taken aback by the creature's sudden appearance, it took him just a second too long to realize what was happening. As he looked into the apophis' eyes, his body became suddenly heavy, his muscles unwilling to obey his command, his head too inflexible turn away from the beasts terrible, unblinking eyes. They were wobbling strangely, twisting and spiralling with a mesmerizing quality, drawing him in...

  The apophis raised a scale-strewn hand, the shimmering thing it was holding out of focus in the hypnotised haze left behind in Simon's head … Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that something alarming was happening too, that he really should get out of the way, but he couldn't move … He was frozen on the spot …

  And then, several things happened at once; excruciating pain shot through Simon's left arm like white-hot needles; he let go of the Infinity Key, which tumbled back against his chest, flashing like a warning light, breaking his eye contact with the monster, jerking him out of his trance; something flapped overhead like wings; and with the utmost effort, Simon punched his fist right at where the apophis' heart should have been. There was an enraged hiss, the foulest smell of rotten eggs and festering flesh, then the creature reared, it's gruesome body clearly unaffected, and for a split second, Simon knew he was looking into the eyes of death.

  The apophis' mouth opened widely, displaying long, thing fangs, ready to strike him. There wasn't even time to say “Oh-Oh” before something impacted with his shoulder, hard.

  The force of the blow threw Simon off his feet, sending him flying away from the ghastly beast. He couldn't help an anguished moan as a fresh wave of pain surged through his left arm, rolling over the ground tangled into something warm and undoubtedly living. Was he going to die now? He really didn't want to, but at the same time, he already felt himself drifting away easily, as though he were simply falling asleep.

  Something pleasantly cool like a gentle tide washed over Simon. A rushing sound like waves washing against a shore filled his ears.

  Right in this moment, it was probably raining in London.

  Simon started. The notion had flit past as quickly and randomly as a flash, more like an impulse than a conscious thought. Worse, he couldn't remember thinking it at all. But there was no time to consider this further. A scent of wet, hot pavement, smoke and exhaust fumes, like the city after a rain had risen in his nostrils. Was Morgan out, getting soaked through to the skin? The image was clear in his head as though he were looking through a window at his cousin. A cold kind of wind was blowing too, and rain was dripping onto his head … He hadn't imagined the afterlife to be a window through which he could watch his archenemy, not at all. Why would he want to see his cousin? Especially if he was dead? Was he dead?

  Come to think of it, Morgan didn't look good at all. His soft brown hair was somewhat matted, hanging in careless strands into his face. His clothes were thrown together haphazardly, as if he just didn't care. But it was the eyes, which he could see reflected in a puddle, that really gave Simon pause. There were deep shadows underneath them, and their vivid blue had somehow faded into something dark and clouded. He had never seen Morgan looking like this, somehow strange, not like his cousin normally looked. He searched for the word. Unhappy. Ridiculous. Why would Morgan be unhappy? The boy had everything he wanted … and now Simon was gone too, leaving him free to...

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  A flash of blindingly white-hot light illuminated the air, and Simon's eyelids flew open. What had just happened? In a heartbeat, he remembered the apophis standing in front of him, ready to strike. Not the ideal time to fall asleep, he told himself. On the upside, he wasn't dead after all. Coming back to his senses, Simon threw his arms up to defend himself, but it wasn't necessary.

  The world was tuning back into focus more quickly now. As it did, he saw the abominable beast hovering over him shatter and splinter like glass against a column of bright, white light, which seemed to have formed in front of him, protecting him. Simon could just barely make out the silhouette of a teenager with wayward, blond hair standing between him and the monster, something like a shield of pure light, which must have deflect the apophis' attack, extending from his slim fingers into the air. Thousands of shards rushed past the two boys, the blow knocking Simon's glasses askew and the breath from his lungs.

  “Well damn,” said Horus. “Now we're in trouble.”

  Simon saw immediately what the god was getting at: Where the glowing shield touched the darkness surrounding them, it extended like a scintillating soap-bubble into the air, igniting it, filling it with incandescent flame that spread into the farthest corners of the black cloud, penetrating what Simon had believed to be impenetrable. The gloom was no match for Horus' divine light. It shattered just like the apophis had, crumbled from within and rained down on them in multicolour shards like that of a smashed mirror. If they hadn't attracted Set before, this cascade of luminous crystal dust was certain to alert the whole of Egypt’s vengeful, evil gods to their location. Simon swallowed thickly, using the moment of distraction to swiftly store the Infinity Key, which had fallen on top of his clothes, back inside his shirt.

  “Where is the Pharaoh?” Horus' voice brought him back to his senses.

  “We agreed it best if she made a tactical retreat,” said Simon, who was straightening his glasses on his nose. His heart was still racing madly, and he couldn't shake the images of his cousin either.

  “What?” Horus started, frowning, grabbing his arm hauling off the ground with ease, as though Simon's hundred and seventy pounds were no weight at all. “You're lying. She wouldn't have just left without me.”

  “She was quite of the same opinion, but – … Look, can we not discuss this now?” Simon said. There was no need to tell this one that he had shouted at the precious princess. That, and he could also hear fast footsteps coming their way and see the gloom clearing. A few more minutes, and they would be straight in the open, defenceless as sitting ducks.

  “Let's get out of here,” Simon persisted urgently when Horus didn't move, whipping his head back and forth to see where the footsteps were coming from. Was this the point where Simon would be shouted at for leaving the girl on her own?

  “Why did you have to come back?” said Horus coldly after a few seconds, glaring at him in a way that made Simon think he had interrupted the god at something. As if Simon's reappearance had ruined everything. Had Horus perhaps hoped that he would be left alone with Set and his henchmen? “I didn't need your help.”

  “Clearly,” said Simon, rolling his eyes. The footsteps were growing louder by the second, and he felt as though he were sitting on hot coals. Someone was coming to end them, and Horus wanted to speak about his hurt pride?

  “I didn't!” snapped the god.

  “Can we discuss this elsewhere?” Simon yelped. Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed Horus' arm and pulled, but he might as well have tried to move the titanic from the bottom of the sea.

  He could feel the god's heartbeat through his feverishly hot skin, strong and steady, racing at a thousand miles per hour, but he knew immediately that the god's elated pulse had nothing to do with fear. To Simon's horror, the adolescent god looked determined instead, his eyebrows drawn together, facing the direction of the approaching footfalls. Determined to do what? They didn't have time for stubborn acts of... determination.

  “Look,” said Simon, keeping his voice as even as he could. “I might have shouted a bit to convince Nefy, but...”

  This clearly took Horus aback, for the god turned and stared at him in horror, as though he had suddenly sprouted bunny ears. At least, however, they were moving now, though at a pace much slower than Simon would have liked. Horus was heavy as lead and his face frozen in shock. His lips moved silently as though he were praying, forming one word repeatedly. Nefy. Simon frowned. It looked like the god found the mere idea of shortening the princess' name thus little more than an act of sacrilege. Simon, who didn't think it was time to argue nicknames right now, redoubled his efforts, dragging the teenage god, who was extraordinarily heavy for his size, away from the road.

  “Look. She didn't like leaving you, I swear,” Simon muttered, straining with effort, his words clearly unable to penetrate Horus' thick skull, “I merely thought that she would be safer away from here and Set, you know?”

  “She'll be safe, she doesn't need you to look out for her,” Horus snapped, then he composed himself and the customary scowl settled back on his youthful features. He took one last look back at the streets of Zawte, grabbed Simon around the waist, threw him over his shoulder and ran. Simon didn't protest for once, though he could feel his skin bruising from the rough handling. Indeed, he was very much relieved that they were leaving, for he had been worried Horus fancied meeting his uncle. Now that they were leaving, literally with god-speed, he wasn't going to do anything to jeopardise their flight.