Yasmin sipped her second cup of tea. She was grateful for its warmth and the shelter Sybil had given her from Jackal. But now she needed to keep moving. ‘I have to get to the railway station and get a train to Alexandria,’ she said.

Sybil whispered to the boy. He jumped up and ran from the house. Yasmin shivered when she thought that maybe the woman had sent him to find Jackal in the hope of a reward.

‘Finish your tea so I can see the leaves,’ Sybil said.

‘You are a fortune teller?’ Yasmin asked.

With her white hair and hazel eyes, the woman certainly looked the part.

‘Here we do what we can to survive,’ Sybil said, taking Yasmin’s empty cup. ‘My husband looks after tombs for a little money. I read leaves and palms to help buy food.’

Yasmin felt guilty. She’d been raised in luxury and comfort compared with how Sybil and her family lived. And yet she couldn’t offer the woman anything. ‘I’m sorry, but I have no money to pay you.’

Sybil waved away the apology and stared at the tea leaves. ‘You have left your money behind today,’ she said. ‘But there is great fortune ahead for you.’

Yasmin’s eyes widened. Was this woman using magic powers to tell her she’d be getting a million dollars? Or was she just a trickster who’d recognised her from a newspaper article? ‘What else do you see?’ she asked.

‘A desert dog chases you,’ Sybil whispered. ‘He is not easy to escape.’

Now Yasmin shivered. A jackal was a desert dog!

Her heart thudded as a dark shape appeared in the doorway. For a moment she thought the boy really had brought Jackal. But the shadow belonged to a different beast—one with long ears and a mane. The donkey snorted and brayed.

‘Hello, Sybil,’ said an old man, poking his head through the door. ‘Someone needs a ride?’

The fortune teller nodded. ‘This young girl has a train to catch. But she can’t be seen by anyone.’ Sybil hobbled to the door, Yasmin jumping up to follow her. Outside, the donkey was hitched to a cart filled with watermelons.

‘You’ll have to hide among those,’ the man said. ‘It may take a while because the traffic is so bad and my donkey, he is slow.’

Yasmin nodded. She didn’t care if it took all night, so long as she left Jackal clueless about where she was.

‘Shukran,’ she said.

She turned to Sybil and took her hand. ‘And thank you. I will repay your kindness one day.’

The fortune teller nodded. ‘I know you will, child.’ As she moved her hand down to lean on her walking stick again, Yasmin noticed the decoration on top of it was a carved spiral. ‘Sybil, what is that design?’

‘This? It is called a lituus,’ the woman said. ‘Ancient priests used it to watch how birds flew through the sky. They predicted the future from what they saw.’

Yasmin pulled out her phone and showed the spiral symbol to Sybil. ‘Is it the same as this?’

The old woman peered at the screen. ‘Not quite.’

Sybil traced her finger around the spiral on her stick. ‘See, mine goes clockwise. That means it foretells what will be created. Yours goes the other way. It predicts what is to be destroyed.’

Fear spiked Yasmin’s heart. Destruction! That’s what she’d witnessed today. That the symbol was part of the First Sign seemed to confirm her fears it had foretold the terrible events in Egypt.

‘Are you all right?’ Sybil asked.

Yasmin forced herself to nod.

She climbed up into the donkey cart as the man stacked watermelons over her.

‘Fortune be with you, Yasmin,’ Sybil whispered.

‘Harr!’ the man said and the cart pulled away behind the clip-clopping donkey.

They turned one corner, then another, and another. By the time they left the City of the Dead and rumbled onto the clogged Cairo streets, Yasmin had lost track of time.

Above the clamour of honking, a man shouted close behind them.

‘Hold it!’ Jackal commanded. ‘You, donkey man, stop!’

Beneath the fruit, Yasmin’s body went rigid with fear.

She heard the crunch of the detective’s boots on the dusty street. Through gaps in the watermelons and the cart’s wooden planks, Yasmin saw Jackal pass by just centimetres from her.

‘You’ve come from the City of the Dead?’ he demanded.

The donkey-cart driver said he had.

‘Have you seen this girl?’

Yasmin heard the rustling of newspaper. She guessed Jackal was showing the man her photo in an article about the DARE Awards. She held her breath.

‘No,’ the man said. ‘Rich people don’t go there. Only the poor. Would you like to buy a watermelon?’

Jackal didn’t say anything for a moment. Yasmin pictured him smelling the air for her scent.

‘All right,’ he growled. ‘Move on, donkey man!’

As the cart lurched forwards, Yasmin silently thanked her lucky stars for the kindness of strangers.

Through the slats, she saw Jackal rubbing his jaw.

‘I hope you find the girl,’ the driver called out cheerfully.

‘I’ll find her,’ Jackal said, spitting on the ground. ‘If it’s the last thing I do.’