Hey guys! So I haven't updated in two years...I'm so sorry. This chapter is dedicated to StenHammer. They specifically asked for a new chapter. I just had a lot going on and then I just assumed no one actually liked it so I didn't update.

But here's an extra long update to make up for it. This is the revised edition of chapter one. I'll also be posting revised editions of chapter two and three, and I already have chapter four stated...well, I have one sentence. ;P But it's a start, right?

Thanks for reading!

Sadie's Pov:

Everyone stared at us. "What?" I cried out, exasperated. Okay, it was rude, but it was rude for THEM to stare in the FIRST place! Isis stepped forward and explained what they were doing, and Carter immediately agreed.

"This'll be fun!" he exclaimed.

I, on the other hand, was not so sure. But Isis, curse her, made me agree. I had my reasons for not wanting to do this! I really didn't want Anubis to see what I thought of him. And it seemed Isis knew that and was purposely torturing me!

"Isis, I'll get you back for this, mark. My. Words," I muttered.

"What?" Dad/Osiris asked, looking confused. "Why would you do that? What did she do?"

"Is that a threat?" Isis asked, looking amused.

Ignoring Dad, I continued, "No, it's a promise." I gave Isis a look, who turned away, looking very amused.

"Sadie, you should introduce the initiates to us," she said.

I sighed. "This is Alyssa, Jaz, Julian, Felix, Jessica, Cleo, Chloe, Sean, James, and Jase."

I listed a few other names until Jessica told us to "Just forget the names and get on with the story! I wanna see the Sanubis romance!"

I blushed at that.

"The what?" Dad asked.

"Nothing!" I said quickly after Isis opened her mouth. "On with the story! Who wants to read?"

"I'll go first!" Carter and Thoth said at the same time. "Oh. Uh, you go," Carter said awkwardly. Thoth cleared his throat and started-

Or tried to.

"WAIT!" Set shouted. "One minute, please." he got up and said, rather snarkily (like me, which was very annoying), "I'm getting Amos. He's in this story too, you know."

"Well, hurry back. Fast!" Bes said.

Thoth rolled his eyes. "If you tell him to hurry, what's the point of telling him to hurry fast? It's the same thing, idiot," he said.

Bes opened his mouth, then closed it. "Shut up," he muttered.

After Set arrived with Amos, who smiled and hugged Carter, Dad, the rest of the initiates, and I, Thoth began reading.

The Red Pyramid.

With those words, everyone glared at Set.

We only have a few hours, so listen carefully.

"Horus, he's going to scare everyone to death!" Isis said, exaggerating a bit.

If you're hearing this story, you're already in danger.

"Osiris, you better talk to your son!" Isis said, glaring.

Sadie and I might be your only chance.

"Reall-" Isis began angrily, and Sadie wasn't sure if she was really mad or not.

"If someone interrupts one more time, I'll reveal a secret of yours," Thoth said.

Isis turned to him in surprise, looking speechless. "Fine!" she finally huffed, looking mad.

Go to the school. Find the locker. I won't tell you which school or which locker, because if you're the right person, you'll find it. The combination is 13/32/33. By the time you finish listening, you'll know what those numbers mean.

"The Lakers-"

"We know," Thoth snapped over Julius's words, drowning them out.

Just remember the story we're about to tell you isn't complete yet. How it ends will depend on you. The most important thing: when you open the package and find what's inside, don't keep it longer than a week. Sure, it'll be tempting. I mean, it will grant you almost unlimited power. But if you possess it too long, it will consume you. Learn its secrets quickly and pass it on. Hide it for the next person, the way Sadie and I did for you. Then be prepared for your life to get very interesting.

"Very interesting," I muttered. Carter nodded.

Okay, Sadie is telling me to stop stalling and get on with the story. Fine. I guess it started in London, the night our dad blew up the British Museum. My name is Carter Kane. I'm fourteen and my home is a suitcase.

Felix laughed.

You think I'm kidding?

Felix stopped laughing.

Since I was eight years old, my dad and I have traveled the world. I was born in ll.A. but my dad's an archaeologist, so his work takes him all over. Mostly we go to Egypt, since that's his specialty. Go into a bookstore, find a book about Egypt, there's a pretty good chance it was written by Dr. Julius Kane. You want to know how Egyptians pulled the brains out of mummies, or built the pyramids, or cursed King Tut's tomb? My dad is your man. Of course, there are other reasons my dad moved around so much, but I didn't know his secret back then.

Carter and I sighed.

I didn't go to school. My dad homeschooled me, if you can call it "home" schooling when you don't have a home. He sort of taught me whatever he thought was important, so I learned a lot about Egypt and basketball stats and my dad's favorite musicians. I read a lot, too - pretty much anything I could get my hands on, from dad's history books to fantasy novels - because I spent a lot of time sitting around in hotels and airports and dig sites in foreign countries where I didn't know anybody.

My dad was always telling me to put the book down and play some ball. You ever try to start a game of pick-up basketball in Aswan, Egypt? It's not easy. Anyway, my dad trained me early to keep all my possessions in a single suitcase that fits in an airplane's overhead compartment. My dad packed the same way, except he was allowed an extra workbag for his archaeology tools.

Rule number one: I was not allowed to look in his workbag. That's a rule I never broke until the day of the explosion. It happened on Christmas Eve. We were in London for visitation day with my sister, Sadie.

"You had a 'visitation day'?" one of the initiates asked. I believe it was Max.

See, Dad's only allowed two days a year with her - one in the winter, one in the summer - because our grandparents hate him.

"Hate is a strong word," Dad protested, and I rolled my eyes towards his direction.

After our mom died, her parents (our grandparents) had this big court battle with Dad. After six lawyers, two fistfights, and a near fatal attack with a spatula (don't ask), they won the right to keep Sadie with them in England.

She was only six, two years younger than me, and they couldn't keep us both - at least that was their excuse for not taking me. So Sadie was raised as a British schoolkid, and I traveled around with my dad. We only saw Sadie twice a year, which was fine with me. (Shut up, Sadie. Yes - I'm getting to that part.)

Felix laughed again and I scowled.

So anyway, my dad and I had just flown into Heathrow after a couple of delays. It was a drizzly, cold afternoon. The whole taxi ride into the city, my dad seemed kind of nervous.

"I wonder why," I said sarcastically, tilting my head to look at Dad. Carter smirked.

Now, my dad is a big guy. You wouldn't think anything could make him nervous. He has dark brown skin like mine, piercing brown eyes, a bald head, and a goatee, so he looks like a buff evil scientist.

Dad coughed and Carter looked down. I burst out into laughter, but because I tried to conceal it. lt sounded like a pig snorting as I put my head in my hands, wiping tears out of my eyes.

That afternoon he wore his cashmere winter coat and his best brown suit, the one he used for public lectures. Usually he exudes so much confidence that he dominates any room he walks into, but sometimes - like that afternoon - I saw another side to him that I didn't really understand. He kept looking over his shoulder like we were being hunted.

"Really? I never noticed that," Dad interrupted, looking thoughtful. "And did I really have that much confidence?"

Carter nodded and said, "Yeah! You still have a lot too!"probably trying to make up for the ''evil buff scientist" part.

"Dad?" I said as we were getting off the A-40. "What's wrong?"

"No sign of them," he muttered. Then he must've realized he'd spoken aloud, because he looked at me kind of startled. "Nothing, Carter. Everything's fine."

Which bothered me because my dad's a terrible liar. I always knew when he was hiding something, but I also knew no amount of pestering would get the truth out of him. He was probably trying to protect me, though from what I didn't know.

"I was," Dad muttered.

"One more time, people, one. More. Time," Thoth said, glaring around.

Sometimes I wondered if he had some dark secret in his past, some old enemy following him, maybe; but the idea seemed ridiculous. Dad was just an archaeologist.

I snorted. We all (Carter, Dad, Amos and I) shared a look.

The other thing that troubled me: Dad was clutching his workbag. Usually when he does that, it means we're in danger. Like the time gunmen stormed our hotel in Cairo. I heard shots coming from the lobby and ran downstairs to check on my dad.

"I didn't realize I did that," Dad said thoughtfully once more.

"OKAY. Okay. Julius dances to 'I Love A Rainy Night' by Eddie Rabbit," Thoth announced. "I've got it on tape." He smirked.

Everyone laughed while Dad nearly choked on thin air.

"What was that for?" he asked angrily, while blushing.

"Interrupting," Thoth replied, still smirking.

"Show it to us!" Jessica yelled.

"I will, later," he promised, and continued the story.

By the time I got there, he was just calmly zipping up his workbag while three unconscious gunmen hung by their feet from the chandelier, their robes falling over their heads so you could see their boxer shorts.

Carter and I laughed. "I remember that," Carter and Dad said.

"It was funny," Carter added.

I crossed my arms, partly wishing I had been there, and partly wishing I could hit Carter.

Dad claimed not to have witnessed anything, and in the end the police blamed a freak chandelier malfunction.

"But how would they have been hanging?" I asked doubtfully. "It couldn't have been a freak accident."

Another time, we got caught in a riot in Paris. My dad found the nearest parked car, pushed me into the backseat, and told me to stay down. I pressed myself against the floorboards and kept my eyes shut tight.

I could hear Dad in the driver's seat, rummaging in his bag, mumbling something to himself while the mob yelled and destroyed things outside. A few minutes later he told me it was safe to get up. Every other car on the block had been overturned and set on fire. Our car had been freshly washed and polished, and several twenty-euro notes had been tucked under the windshield wipers.

Anyway, I'd come to respect the bag. It was our good luck charm.

But when my dad kept it close, it meant we were going to need good luck. We drove through the city center, heading east toward my grandparents' flat. We passed the golden gates of Buckingham Palace, the big stone column in Trafalgar Square. London is a pretty cool place, but after you've traveled for so long, all cities start to blend together.

Other kids I meet sometimes say, "Wow, you're so lucky you get to travel so much."

But it's not like we spend our time sightseeing or have a lot of money to travel in style. We've stayed in some pretty rough places, and we hardly ever stay anywhere longer than a few days. Most of the time it feels like we're fugitives rather than tourists. I mean, you wouldn't think my dad's work was dangerous. He does lectures on topics like "Can Egyptian Magic Really Kill You?" and "Favorite Punishments in the Egyptian Underworld" and other stuff most people wouldn't care about.

Dad looked slightly hurt. I felt sorry and, judging by Carter's look, he did too.

But like I said, there's that other side to him. He's always very cautious, checking every hotel room before he lets me walk into it. He'll dart into a museum to see some artifacts, take a few notes, and rush out again like he's afraid to be caught on the security cameras.

"Not the cameras," Dad mumbled to himself.

One time when I was younger, we raced across the Charles de Gaul e airport to catch a last-minute flight, and Dad didn't relax until the plane was off the ground. I asked him point blank what he was running from, and he looked at me like I'd just pulled the pin out of a grenade. For a second I was scared he might actually tell me the truth.

Then he said, "Carter, it's nothing." As if "nothing" were the most terrible thing in the world. After that, I decided maybe it was better not to ask questions. My grandparents, the Fausts, live in a housing development near Canary Wharf, right on the banks of the River Thames. The taxi let us off at the curb, and my dad asked the driver to wait. We were halfway up the walk when Dad froze. He turned and looked behind us. "What?" I asked.

Then I saw the man in the trench coat. He was across the street, leaning against a big dead tree. He was barrel shaped, with skin the color of roasted coffee. His coat and black pinstriped suit looked expensive.

He had long braided hair and wore a black fedora pulled down low over his dark round glasses. He reminded me of a jazz musician, the kind my dad would always drag me to see in concert.

"Amos," Carter, Dad, Jaz, Walt (and Anubis inside him), Alyssa and I said at the same time. We looked at each other weirdly.

Even though I couldn't see his eyes, I got the impression he was watching us. He might've been an old friend or colleague of Dad's. No matter where we went, Dad was always running into people he knew. But it did seem strange that the guy was waiting here, outside my grandparents'. And he didn't look happy.

"Carter," my dad said, "go on ahead."

"But - "

"Get your sister. I'll meet you back at the taxi." He crossed the street toward the man in the trench coat, which left me with two choices: follow my dad and see what was going on, or do what I was told.

Okay, this is long. Over two thousand words! Anyway, the main pairing is Walt/Anubis/Sadie. Anubis is in Walt in this story, like the books.

Please drop a review and tell me what you thought. It makes my day! Thank you!

~Linds.

I love you guys!