The crocodile hissed and stumbled, shaking his head, as Percy dropped off and rolled away, barely avoiding the crocodile’s stomping feet. Not exactly my finest tactical move but having a hippo shoved up his nose must have been sufficiently distracting. It sailed headfirst into the crocodile’s left nostril and lodged there, kicking its stubby back legs.
Instantly the world’s most deformed hippopotamus sprang to life in midair. As he lunged, I threw my shabti, only half formed, and barked a command word. I was still shaping the clump of wax, trying to make it into a figurine, when the crocodile decided to stop savoring the moment and just eat me. Whatever and whoever Percy was, he was no magician. It would take a magician to figure it out and open it. “Some kind of magic?” That was the smartest thing he’d said all afternoon (not that he’d said a lot of smart things to choose from). I didn’t dare take my eyes off the croc’s, but in my peripheral vision I could see Percy pounding his fist against the base of the necklace. I dropped my pack and started working the wax furiously with both hands, trying to soften it. I didn’t have time to build a proper shabti, but I had no better idea. The only thing I found was a clump of wax. His lamp-yellow eyes filmed over, maybe from happiness. His hide shed water like the grossest fountain in the world, making my shoes slosh as I walked. I backed up to the curb and tried-ridiculously-to stare down the monster. It just meant more mortals were racing here as fast as they could to volunteer as crocodile snacks. Somebody had called the police, which didn’t exactly cheer me up.
0 kommentar(er)
