The Cursed Scarab

by Suzanne Weyn

  Leaning against the broken wall, Taylor took a sip, and the dizziness left her. “Thanks, that really helps. Go hear the talk. I’m just going to stay here a minute more to rest. Then I’ll join you.”

  “Okay. Are you sure you’re all right? You were sick just before we came to Egypt. Maybe you’re not all better.”

  “I’m fine, it’s just all the sun. I need some shade.”

  Jason headed toward the group. Watching him, Taylor stood and took in the scene around her. In the sky, the sun blazed. Taylor once more pictured the scene from her dream where Akhenaten held the scarab up to the window and claimed it was his greatest treasure.

  A buzzing sensation began in Taylor’s fingertips and grew stronger. Disturbed, Taylor put Jason’s canteen on the wall so she could shake her hand to get the blood flowing again. Why was her hand suddenly going numb?

  The numbness was becoming painful. Taylor rubbed both palms together but that didn’t make it any better.

  It was as though hundreds of insects were pinching her.

  Taylor clenched her hand into a fist and then unclenched it, repeating the motion over and over. It seemed to help the pain but her hand was becoming hot — and then she saw it!

  The blue scarab appeared in her right hand.

  This was insane! How had the scarab gotten out of the safe?

  Taylor trembled — she had to find her parents.

  As she turned to go, the sand in front of her swirled. Taylor stepped away from it but the size of the vortex only grew wider, its circumference expanding by the second.

  As she stared at the spinning sand, amazed and terrified — a man’s hand arose from the center.

  It clasped an iron grip around Taylor’s ankle, and with one powerful yank pulled her down under the sand.

  WE HAVE it! Ha!”

  Taylor lay flat on a cool floor. The man kneeling at her side had snatched the scarab from her palm just as her eyes fluttered open. She wiped the sand from her face and coughed, pulling herself to sitting.

  She was in a high-ceilinged room of polished, golden stone. Several torches threw light against the shimmering walls and across the floor of patterned tile.

  In one corner, a monstrous statue of a winged bat with fanged teeth and red eyes appeared poised to lunge at them. A ring of short torches lit him from below, throwing terrifying shadows over his face.

  In the shifting amber light, Taylor recognized the man at her side.

  “Valdry!” Taylor cried, and coughed again. “How did I get here?”

  Valdry nodded toward a winding slide in the corner of the room.

  A young woman stepped out from behind the slide, the one with the painted-on eyebrows whom Taylor had given the scarab to that day she rode with Sharon to the Haunted Museum. Beside her was the little girl Taylor had encountered in the hotel lobby and later in the theater.

  But they looked strikingly different. All three of them had eyes completely lacking in color. Their white irises swam in the white field of their eyes. The eerie effect was that the black of their pupils were like ebony holes that bored into her.

  “I gave you the scarab,” Taylor spoke to the young woman from the Haunted Museum.

  The young woman’s face contorted with anger and her pupils suddenly flashed a red beam of light, just like the red flashes Taylor had seen coming from behind her sunglasses.

  “You gave it to me, but you stole it back!” the woman said.

  “I didn’t!”

  “Then how did you get it again?” The red beam from the woman’s eyes bored into the side of Taylor’s neck. It burned, and Taylor clapped her hand over it.

  “I don’t know.” The vein in Taylor’s neck pounded hard against her fingers.

  The woman shot another fierce look at Taylor and her eyes emitted more rays. Taylor withstood it for as long as she could but finally had to let go. She turned her back on the woman, feeling the burn shift to the back of her neck. “Stop that!” Taylor said. “It hurts!”

  “We can do a lot worse than that to you,” the woman threatened.

  “Stop, Sethor,” the child spoke up forcefully.

  Instantly the heat on Taylor’s neck faded. Taylor turned toward Sethor. Her eyes were once again white.

  “Thank you,” Taylor said to the child. “You have the scarab now. I only want to get out of here.”

  As she spoke, Taylor rubbed her burning hand. It was tingling, and she assumed it was the pain left from the red burn. But suddenly, the scarab popped into her palm.

  “How are you doing that?!” Valdry shouted.

  “I don’t know!” Taylor cried, but Valdry began to cast a furious red beam in Taylor’s direction. This time it was aimed directly at her heart.

  Taylor leaped out of the beam’s path, but Valdry followed her motions, glowering hatefully.

  “Valdry, cease!” the little girl cried out.

  “Yes, Simone,” Valdry said, bowing.

  Taylor studied the child and realized that once again she had transformed into a wrinkled and stooped old woman.

  “How can she tell us of her powers when the two of you are burning holes in her?”

  Valdry and Sethor mumbled apologies.

  “There will be time for that later,” Simone added quietly.

  Taylor heard Simone’s comment and began scanning the room for exits. What was she planning to do later?

  Simone held Taylor’s hand in her own clawlike, icy-cold grasp, which, despite its tiny size, was surprisingly strong. “The scarab reacts like that for one person only — Nefertiti!”

  “But she’s just a child,” Sethor said.

  “Foolish girl!” Simone scolded Sethor. “Nefertiti has incarnated many times. Each time she has devoted herself to destroying us, and each time we have destroyed her. But she is back again and has uncovered the power of the scarab once more.”

  “This girl?!” Valdry challenged Simone. “Impossible!”

  “Very possible and very true!” Simone shouted at Valdry. “This girl must be destroyed before she destroys us!”

  As they argued, Taylor’s heart pounded. She wasn’t sure how she could be a threat to these creatures, but one thing was certain — she couldn’t give them the chance to destroy her.

  TAYLOR DECIDED that her only hope was a six-foot rectangle cut into the side of the wall across from her. There was no handle on it, but at least it was shaped like a door. It would be the first place she’d try if she saw her chance.

  “I have no powers,” Taylor said. “It’s the scarab’s power. It keeps coming back to me on its own. I can’t control it.”

  “Nefertiti couldn’t control the scarab at first. She learned quickly, though,” Simone said. “Clearly you are Nefertiti reborn again, and you will also learn.”

  “Who are you? How do you know all this?” Taylor asked.

  “Have you ever heard of the Vampya?” Simone asked.

  “You’re vampires?!” Taylor cried.

  Her three captors all smiled at once.

  “Do you see fangs?” Sethor asked.

  Taylor shook her head.

  “That’s because we have none,” Simone said. “Vampires came later and are much less powerful. Vampya would never bite flesh. That’s so crude. We use the power of our eyes to bore into veins until the blood spills.”

  Taylor tried to appear strong, not to flinch at the gory image. “How often do you kill?” she asked.

  Simone shrugged as if the question was of little importance. “It depends on how much blood we need. Twice a year we drain an entire human and offer the blood to our god, Nezzamort, the sworn enemy of Aten.” She gestured at the grotesque statue in the corner.

  “He’s the enemy of the sun?” Taylor questioned.

  Valdry stepped closer. “We are all sworn enemies of the sun. We have to offer him a sacrifice soon, and what better than the blood of Nefertiti?”

  “I’m not Nefertiti,” Taylor said, backing away from them in the direction of the rectangular cut
out.

  “Give us that scarab,” Simone demanded.

  Taylor remembered one of her visions and glanced at the light flickering on the walls.

  “Take it!” she said, throwing the scarab toward one of the flaming torches. The moment the scarab hit the fire, a white flash blossomed all around them, illuminating the room with a blinding light.

  Simone, Sethor, and Valdry screamed, but Taylor couldn’t see them because the light was so bright. Shielding her eyes, she stumbled toward the rectangle.

  Taylor reached the rectangle and felt for the cut in the stone. When she found it, she pushed hard, and the stone moved. Pushing again, the stone gave way.

  Taylor stepped out the other end — into nothing but air. Flailing her arms and kicking, she tried to grasp something as she fell deeper into the black tunnel of nothingness. She screamed until abruptly she couldn’t make a sound.

  Water poured into her open mouth, choking off her breath. In the blackness surrounding her, she couldn’t see anything at all, but knew she was in liquid, probably underwater — quickly rushing water.

  Pumping her arms and legs desperately, Taylor pushed upward with all her strength until she came above the surface, gasping and coughing. No sooner had she swallowed her first gulp of air when she was slapped in the face with a small wave.

  Taylor sputtered, her arms flailing, as the strong current carried her along, scraping her against rocks hard enough to bruise. Tossed by the forceful flow, Taylor flipped and spun in the torrent. She had only one thought: to keep her head up and to avoid swallowing the water crashing around her. Was there an end to this powerful current?

  Water slapped Taylor in the face again, knocking her below the surface. As she struggled upward, Taylor became aware of a change.

  The water had become warmer, and much less turbulent.

  With a strong kick, Taylor propelled herself up and came above the surface. The water was calm now, and glinted in the bright sunshine. Hot air seared her throat as she breathed in deeply. Palm trees lined the nearby banks, and out in the middle of the water, Taylor saw the ferry that had brought her tour group to Amarna. It was headed toward the dock where they’d landed earlier, which was just a few yards away on the shore.

  She was in the Nile River!

  Taylor swam hard toward the water’s edge, and it wasn’t long before she staggered up onto the banks of the Nile. As she dropped to sit in the smooth silt mud, she felt her cell phone in her back pocket and pulled it out. Completely dead!

  There was no way to contact anyone.

  What if Sethor, Valdry, and Simone came after her? Suddenly frightened once more, Taylor stood and turned in a circle, searching for them.

  Suddenly a voice called out. “There she is!”

  Taylor was about to dive back into the Nile on instinct when she saw Jason run out onto the dock. Her parents were right behind him.

  Taylor stumbled toward them as they raced in her direction. When they met, Mrs. Mason wrapped Taylor in a panicked hug. Professor Mason enfolded them both but then pulled back. “What happened to you?” he asked.

  “Were you in the water?” Mrs. Mason asked.

  Taylor opened her mouth to speak but hesitated. How could she explain this? Would they believe her — would anyone?

  STRAIGHT TO bed with you,” Mrs. Mason said to Taylor when they got into their hotel room late that afternoon. “I want you to rest.”

  “I’m fine,” Taylor said.

  “No, you’re not. That sun was simply too strong for you,” Professor Mason said as he headed into his bedroom.

  “He’s right,” said Mrs. Mason.

  Taylor looked at her mother, disappointed that her parents doubted that what happened to her had been real. Like everyone but Jason, Mrs. Mason thought Taylor had simply wandered off with a bad case of sunstroke.

  “I want you to take a nap before Dr. Bey gets here,” Mrs. Mason said. “I’m going to take a nap, too.”

  “Can I take a shower?”

  “All right but don’t be long. And take your room key.”

  With a towel, toiletry bag, and change of clothing in a tote bag, Taylor walked down the quiet, dimly lit hallway to the shared bathroom at the end of the hall. She was happy to find it empty and used her room key to unlock it.

  Taylor latched the door for added security and turned on the water. A shower would feel wonderful. She was about to undress when she noticed that a black splotch had appeared in the center of the window. It was about the size of her two hands spread wide. It was followed by another black shape of about the same size. Then another … and another. In a few moments, the light from outside had been completely blocked out by the splotches, and Taylor stood in total darkness.

  What was happening?

  Groping in the dark, she searched the wall for a light switch, but couldn’t find one. She found the doorknob and pulled on it — the door wouldn’t budge. Then she recalled that she’d latched it. Feeling along the door, she located the latch. She expected it to move smoothly out of the locked position, but it seemed stuck.

  It would help if she could see!

  Feeling her way along the wall, she bumped into the toilet bowl and closed the lid, then climbed on top of it. The window was right above it, and to her relief she discovered it wasn’t locked but easily pulled inward.

  At first she was happy that it was still light out. In the next second, though, she saw what was covering the window. Black bats were stuck to the glass somehow, their large wings overlapping one another.

  Stirred by the movement of the glass, the first bat flew up, flapping its wings into Taylor’s face. Startled and terrified, Taylor fell backward off the toilet onto the floor.

  In the light let in by the open window, she could see more and more bats flying into the bathroom. They let out shrill squeaks as they swooped around the room, their eyes glowing red.

  A bat dove toward Taylor’s head.

  Shrieking, she swatted at it.

  Two more bats attacked her, their small, shiny claws yanking at her hair. The bats massed around her, spinning in a circle, whirling faster and faster.

  With her hands over her head, Taylor tried to fend off the bats, but they just kept swirling in an ever-tightening circle around her. Their squealing filled the room. Taylor wanted to cover her ears but she needed her arms to protect herself.

  It was more than she could stand! In another moment she would surely faint — but she couldn’t let that happen. What would they do to her if she collapsed? Swatting at the bats once more, Taylor slipped on a rug and fell. There was a second of pain as her head struck the hard counter — and then all she saw was black.

  TAYLOR RAISED her head and looked around. The last, gray light of day that once more shone through the window told her that she was still in the bathroom, on the tile floor. The right temple of her forehead throbbed with pain.

  But the bats were gone.

  A line of vivid blue light snapped over her head. It hit the steamy shower door, forming a hair-thin mark of cracked glass. On the other side, the shower continued to run.

  Sitting up, Taylor searched for the source of the blue light.

  The scarab sat on the floor beside her.

  Taylor wasn’t even surprised to discover that it was back. By now she was getting used to its strange ability to keep returning.

  The scarab zapped the shower door with another shot of blue light. This time Taylor heard a clink, and moisture formed on the outside of the chipped glass.

  Taylor stared at the scarab. It wanted to get into the shower.

  Lifting the scarab and cupping it in her palm, she once again felt the tingle of electricity run from her hand and up her arm. Her heart beat faster as she pulled the door open and peered into the stall. Immediately she saw the black bat clinging to the wall behind the shower faucet’s spray.

  Before Taylor could react, the scarab hit the bat with its laser. The creature squealed as it slid down the wall into the tub, its blood swirli
ng around the drain.

  The scarab had saved her from the bats. It was the only answer that made sense. Looking away from the bat, Taylor reached up to shut the shower.

  A hard knock sounded on the bathroom door. “Are you all right in there, Taylor?” Mrs. Mason called. “You’ve been in there a long time.”

  Taylor set down the scarab on the sink and went to the door.

  “You’re not even showered,” her mother noticed when Taylor opened the door. “What happened?”

  Taylor gazed at her mother, not sure how to respond. Was she going to tell her another wild story of how she’d been attacked by bats and the scarab had saved her?

  “I slipped and hit my head,” Taylor said. This was at least part of the truth.

  “Oh no!” Mrs. Mason cried. “After all you’ve been through today!” She stepped into the steamy bathroom. “Are you all right? How do you feel?”

  “My head hurts,” Taylor said. “I’m okay otherwise.”

  “Did you hit your head on the shower glass? It’s cracked.”

  “I — there’s a dead bat in the shower,” Taylor warned her mother as Mrs. Mason went to examine the cracked shower stall.

  Mrs. Mason’s hands flew to her heart in alarm. “Oh! And it scared you! You poor thing! This hotel is the worst. First bugs, now this.”

  The hotel wasn’t fancy but it was clean and neat. “It’s not the hotel, Mom. Something strange is going on.”

  Mrs. Mason opened her mouth to reply but then let out a sudden yelp of surprise and jumped back. She’d noticed the blue scarab sitting in the sink. “How did that get there?”

  “I don’t know, Mom. It just keeps coming back to me. That’s part of what I’m trying to tell you.”

  A thousand thoughts seemed to flash across Mrs. Mason’s face as she attempted to make sense of what Taylor had just said. “I know what’s happening,” she said finally. “I went online and searched the Haunted Museum. At first I didn’t find much, but then I began reading the comments some of the people had left on the museum’s website.”

  “What did they say?” Taylor asked.

  “Some people reported that after they had touched one of the items in the museum, strange things began happening to them.”