Kane 2 - The Throne of Fire by Rick Riordan

I’d said to upset him, but I decided to let it pass. I filled him in on my conversation with Amos. Walt was usually pretty calm about stuff. He was a good listener. But he still seemed guarded, on edge.
    When I was done talking, he stepped over to the railing where Khufu was perched. “Apophis let that thing loose in the house? If we hadn’t stopped it—”
    “Amos thinks the serpent didn’t have much power. It was just here to deliver a message and scare us.”
    Walt shook his head in dismay. “Well…now it knows our abilities, I guess. It knows Felix throws a mean shoe.”
    I couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah. Except that wasn’t the ability I was thinking of. That gray light you blasted the snake with…and the way you handled the shabti practice dummy, turning it to dust—”
    “How did I do it?” Walt shrugged helplessly. “Honest, Carter, I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about it ever since, and…it was just instinctive. At first I thought maybe the shabti had some kind of self-destruct spell built into it, and I accidentally triggered it. Sometimes I can do that with magic items—cause them to activate or shut down.”
    “But that wouldn’t explain how you did it again with the serpent.”
    “No,” he agreed. He seemed even more distracted by the incident than I was. Khufu started grooming Walt’s hair, looking for bugs, and Walt didn’t even try to stop him.
    “Walt…” I hesitated, not wanting to push him. “This new ability, turning things to dust—it wouldn’t have anything to do with…you know, whatever you were telling Jaz?”
    There it was again: that caged-animal look.
    “I know,” I said quickly, “it’s none of my business. But you’ve been acting upset lately. If there’s anything I can do…”
    He stared down at the river. He looked so depressed, Khufu grunted and patted him on the shoulder.
    “Sometimes I wonder why I came here,” Walt said.
    “Are you kidding?” I asked. “You’re great at magic. One of the best! You’ve got a future here.”
    He pulled something out of his pocket—one of the dried-up scarabs from the practice room. “Thanks. But the timing…it’s like a bad joke. Things are complicated for me, Carter. And the future…I don’t know.”
    I got the feeling he was talking about more than our four-day deadline to save the world.
    “Look, if there’s a problem…” I said. “If it’s something about the way Sadie and I are teaching—”
    “Of course not. You’ve been great. And Sadie—”
    “She likes you a lot,” I said. “I know she can come on a little strong. If you want her to back off…”
    [Okay, Sadie. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. But you aren’t exactly subtle when you like somebody. I figured it might be making the guy uncomfortable.]
    Walt actually laughed. “No, it’s nothing about Sadie. I like her, too. I’m just—”
    “Agh!” Khufu barked so loudly, it made me jump. He bared his fangs. I turned and realized that he was snarling at the scrying bowl.
    The scene was still Gran and Gramps’s living room. But as I studied it more closely, I realized something was wrong. The lights and TV were off. The sofa had been tipped over.
    I got a metallic taste in my mouth.
    I concentrated on shifting the image until I could see the front door. It had been smashed to pieces.
    “What’s wrong?” Walt came up next to me. “What is it?”
    “Sadie…” I focused all my willpower on finding her. I knew her so well that I could usually locate her instantly, but this time the oil turned black. A sharp pain stabbed behind my eyes, and the surface of the oil erupted in flames.
    Walt pulled me back before my face could get burned. Khufu barked in alarm and tipped the bronze saucer over the railing, sending it hurtling toward the East River.
    “What happened?” Walt asked. “I’ve never seen a bowl do—”
    “Portal to London.” I coughed, my nostrils stinging with burned olive oil. “Nearest one.