Then there were the shabti, magical figurines that were supposed to come to life when summoned. A few months ago, I’d fallen for a girl named Zia Rashid, who’d turned out to be a shabti. Falling in love for the first time had been hard enough. But when the girl you like turns out to be ceramic and cracks to pieces before your eyes—well, it gives “breaking your heart” a new meaning.

Paul patted Mrs. O'Leary's snout. The living room shook —BOOM, BOOM, BOOM—which either meant a SWAT team was breaking down the door or Mrs. O'Leary was wagging her tail. I couldn't help but smile.

Somewhere behind me, Zia yelled, "Hippo!" Which I thought was a little late. She stumbled toward me over the rocking deck, the tip of her staff on fire. Our ghostly pal Setne floated behind her, grinning with delight. "There is it!" Setne shook his diamond pink rings. "Told ya Apophis would send a monster to kill you." "You're so smart!" I shouted. "Now, how do we stop it?

Hey!" I screamed, waving the jacket, running to one side of the monster. "Hey, stupid! Ground beef!

He [Death] pulled a pure-black iPad from thin air. Death tapped the screen a few times and all Frank could think was: Please don't let there be an app for reading souls

Being a hero doesn’t mean you’re invincible. It just means that you’re brave enough to stand up and do what’s needed.

Wha-what?" Her eyes fluttered open. "Nothing," I shouted. "We're being followed by a slaying machine. Go back to sleep.