Wicked

by Shannon Drake

  “It’s a larger piece, but I do believe it’s in with the mummy.”

  He shook his head. “The priest’s body has been unwrapped.”

  “What about Hethre’s mummy? Is it here or at the museum?” she asked.

  “Neither,” he said. “Not that we know about, anyway. Hethre’s mummy was never found—or never identified, at any rate.”

  “Maybe it hasn’t been identified because those who buried her tried very hard to see that she wasn’t identified. The golden cobra might have been a powerful piece, not just to keep away tomb robbers, but also, possibly, to protect the people.”

  “From what?”

  “From Hethre. The ancient Egyptians themselves might have been afraid of her power. And so she was interred without identification, yet with a talisman that would assure she did not come back to work her power against them.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  SHE MUST HAVE SLEPT VERY HARD when she finally did so, because it was a long time before the rapping sound woke her. For several seconds she lay in comfort, listening until the sound became annoying. Then she realized that it was coming from the door to her actual bedroom, and that she was sleeping in Brian’s room. And Brian was no longer beside her.

  She leaped up, closed the hidden door, found a robe and called out that she’d be right there.

  It was Corwin.

  “I’m to take you to the woods, Miss Camille,” he told her.

  “What?”

  “I’m to pack you up and take you to the woods. To the sisters’ cottage,” he explained, growing a little impatient.

  She tried to remain expressionless, as her heart sank. Everything in her denied what Corwin was saying. She had thought…he cared about her. And needed her! But he had never said that. And she felt like a fool, a cold wind seeming to sweep around her heart. He had spoken the truth. The simple truth. He was an earl. She was a commoner. He cared for her, certainly. But surely many such a man had entertained himself with a young commoner!

  “To the woods.”

  Corwin pulled out his pocket watch, studied the time. “An hour, Miss Camille?

  She nodded, thinking. An hour! And she’d be packed off to the woods like…like an unwanted child.

  Anger suddenly grew within her. So the Earl of Carlyle, whatever his motives, wanted her out of his castle. Fine.

  “An hour will be fine, Corwin. What of Tristan and Ralph?”

  “Sir Tristan has said that he will go where you go, and it doesn’t matter where that might be.”

  “The cottage in the woods isn’t all that large, is it, Corwin?”

  “Ah, Sir Tristan and his man will be fine. There’s a comfortable enough little spot in the barn, miss.”

  “With the animals?”

  “Oh, no, there are no animals! The sisters don’t need to be tending to animals, miss. They have a child to raise!”

  No animals, no horses. Once she was out there, she’d be all but marooned.

  “And what about Alex?” she asked.

  “Miss Camille, he’s doing very well. Tomorrow we’ll see that he’s brought back to his home.”

  “An hour, then, Corwin, thank you,” she said agreeably. And she closed the door, her mind racing. She had an hour. One hour. She hesitated only briefly.

  She looked around the room. There was nothing to pack, of course. Everything here had been provided for her, and anyone who knew her would know that she would take nothing with her. But she would be expected to take a few things. The earl wasn’t seeing to it that she was brought home, he was having her taken to the cottage in the woods.

  She threw open the door. “Corwin!”

  He was only halfway down the hall and looked back.

  “I…I’ll have to take some clothing, I’m afraid. Would you please find me a portmanteau or something, anything in which I can pack?”

  He seemed very relieved and nodded. “Yes, yes, of course, Miss Camille. Right away.”

  He returned quickly. And when he had done so, she washed and dressed with haste, threw a few things into the bag and scribbled a note to leave on the bed. Then she cracked the door open. She breathed a sigh of relief. The hall was empty.

  BRIAN KNOCKED AT THE DOOR and waited. In a moment, he saw the eye that peered through the tiny hole, and then the door was opened.

  “Well?” Sir John demanded.

  “Word is out. Shelby made the announcement that you were dead, bitten by an asp. Whoever planted the snake in your flat is going to believe that you are gone. The papers are carrying the news of your demise. So we need only wait now and see what steps are taken next. Whoever is behind this might have taken a partial payment, and be growing desperate. During the dinner last evening, they were in the crypts. That’s nothing new—I know that someone has been getting in, despite the wall and gate, since there is a tunnel, just as my father suspected. But the entry has now been bricked in.” He paused. “And last night, someone threw Camille down the staircase.”

  Sir John gasped, halfway rising. “Camille! My God, is the girl—”

  “She is fine, Sir John. And I’m seeing to it that she’s taken somewhere safe, where whoever is up to all this will not make another attempt against her.”

  “You’re quite certain?” He was agitated. “She’s there now?”

  “She will be quite soon. And there are officers at the gate to the castle, as well.”

  Brian had left without saying another word to her. She would have argued with him. He had instructed Corwin to see to it that she was taken to the sisters. And he’d told Corwin that she was to go—whether willingly, or bound and gagged and over his shoulder.

  Sir John nodded. “What about Lacroisse?”

  “I believe that the news of your death was frightening to him, but whether it was frightening enough for him to come to the police, or even to me, I don’t know. Men like Lacroisse can become obsessed. And naturally, he has his status in his own country to temper his actions.”

  “Can’t you just…threaten him?” Sir John suggested hopefully.

  “Yes. But I wanted him really frightened first. John, I still believe that you can help me. And you know that every word I’ve said has been the truth. I know that you didn’t want to believe that my parents were murdered, but if you can remember anything, anything about that day at all that you might not have said, I need to hear it.”

  Sir John sighed, and indicated that they should take chairs in the rented room. “There is a police officer on the other side of the door, right?” he asked nervously. “If you hadn’t arrived when you did…I thought that I was prepared. I had my old war pistol in the drawer, ready, but I never saw the snake. If you hadn’t shot it…”

  “Sir John, that is over. I need you to talk to me.”

  “That day…” Sir John sat back, shaking his head. “Well, you know what happens after a discovery is made. Everything is slow, so slow and tedious! And yet everyone is excited. And there were so many treasures! Many pieces were slotted for the museum in Cairo, and your father paid a fantastic sum for those things he intended to take from the country, even more than was customary.”

  “He was fair in all his dealings,” Brian said.

  “Yes, a fine man to be a peer of England, a truly fine man. I miss him sorely.”

  “Thank you. So do I. But, go on. Please go on.”

  “Well, we had worked hard and almost everything was packed. We were to have a celebration dinner that night—late, of course, since we’d worked through the day and we were all in need of some thorough bathing, I can tell you!”

  “Did you leave the site together?”

  Sir John frowned, remembering. “No, Aubrey left first. He’d been doing the heavy work and he was exhausted, said he needed to lie down a bit. And then Alex. Alex has always been a bit fragile. He’d been ill, hadn’t worked much during the weeks before, and he still looked like hell, so he was anxious for some rest, as well. Hunter was right behind him. Lord Wimbly—oh, wait! It was Lord Wimbly
who left first. He wanted to get a letter out, said it was most important. Evelyn and I stayed behind with your parents and our Egyptian colleagues until the last box was hauled away. Then we headed back together. We parted in the center of Cairo. Evelyn, of course, left with your parents and I went back to the hotel. They had taken an old palace, you know, converted just for English visitors, such as ourselves. And Evelyn was in the little caretaker’s cottage.” He shook his head. “You really should be speaking with Evelyn. She found them.”

  “But you met in the restaurant for your celebration dinner, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, all the rest of us. Then…then Evelyn arrived with some men from the embassy. Poor woman, she was devastated.”

  “Hunter was with you, almost to the end?”

  “Yes.”

  “But he still left before you?”

  Sir John lifted a hand. “Yes, yes, I’ve told you all this.”

  “Who arrived at the restaurant first?”

  “I did.” He grimaced. “I was quite hungry, and didn’t think that I’d be able to stay up much later!”

  “And then?”

  “Oh, Brian, it was a long time ago!”

  “Please, Sir John.”

  “All right. I was there, and then, let’s see…was it Aubrey who showed up first? Yes, yes, it was Aubrey. No! It was Alex. I remember now, because we were talking about his position at the museum. Then Aubrey, Hunter and Lord Wimbly. Lord Wimbly arrived last.” He shook his head. “I’m not sure what good this is going to do you.”

  “Think again. Who did you see the day you found the newspaper clipping on the desk?”

  Sir John shook his head in disgust. “Aubrey was in. I’m not sure about the others. You were there that day, you know. And Camille, of course. And I—” He paused, looking troubled, then sighed. “I had refused to believe that anyone could have caused those deaths on purpose. But once Camille had been at Carlyle and she seemed to believe you, I began to realize that I had been suspicious all along.”

  “But of whom, Sir John?”

  Though his life had nearly been forfeit, Sir John hesitated. “Well, there were a couple of things,” he said.

  “Whatever your thoughts, I’m begging you, tell me.”

  “But I could be wrong!”

  “Yes, but if you give me your thinking…”

  “I believe that Lord Wimbly was in debt to someone. Serious debt. Yet, of course that’s ridiculous! He’s Lord Wimbly.”

  “Yes, he is in debt,” Brian agreed.

  “But Lord Wimbly loathes snakes of any kind,” Sir John said. “That’s just it. There’s only one man I know who can really handle them.”

  “Aubrey Sizemore.”

  Sir John nodded.

  MIRACULOUSLY, CAMILLE WAS ABLE to slip along the hall, down the stairs and through the ballroom without seeing another soul. She had seriously feared a run-in with Evelyn, but the woman hadn’t been about. In fact, the great castle seemed entirely deserted.

  From the ballroom she entered the chapel, and from there, the crypts. The stairs were dark. Whatever work Shelby and Corwin had done, thankfully, they had completed last night. She was proud to have had the foresight to remember a lamp, and with it, she traveled down the winding steps easily. Once there, she knew that she could be caught by any member of the household at any time, so she moved quickly. And as quietly as she could. But there were so many cartons!

  There was nothing else to do but start opening the lids one by one. That wasn’t at all difficult; she was certain that Brian had been through everything here. At least ten of the large cartons held mummies. All she had to do then…was unwrap every single one, which would make many an Egyptologist shudder in horror. But present lives were worth more than history, she decided.

  And so she began, probing, pulling and sneezing at the ancient dust and decay. She could have eliminated male mummies, but there didn’t seem to be any. Instead, she had come upon most of the high priest’s harem, she was certain.

  She lifted her locket watch, checking the time. Her hour was nearly gone. They would be looking for her soon. Hopefully, they would believe the note.

  Three mummies to go, and then it wouldn’t matter. It would mean that Hethre’s mummy was at the museum, and she would somehow make someone listen to her enough that she could find the cobra—and stop the search.

  She hesitated. Her discovery wouldn’t expose the killer, but it would stop the attempted theft, and possibly more murders.

  THE CARRIAGE RATTLED through the streets and at last arrived at Lord Wimbly’s town house. Determined to accost him then and there, Brian left Shelby with the carriage, and pounded on the door.

  Lord Wimbly’s valet, Jacques, answered. He looked at Brian with suspicion, but he had been impeccably trained for his role as the great Lord Wimbly’s man’s man.

  “Lord Stirling. Lord Wimbly is resting, I’m afraid. Did you have an appointment?”

  “No.”

  Brian stepped forward, forcing the man to let him in.

  “Dear me! Lord Stirling, I’ve told you. Lord Wimbly has not arisen from his private chambers! He has not rung for me once this morning.”

  Brian hesitated only a moment, then started for the stairs.

  “Lord Stirling!” Jacques cried in dismay, racing after him.

  “Get back!” Brian warned, throwing the door open.

  As he had feared, Lord Wimbly lay on the floor. Brian strode across the room, watching his step. Behind him, Jacques let out a shrill cry.

  “Stop it!” Brian commanded, stooping down to feel for a pulse. But Lord Wimbly’s heart had long since ceased to beat. His eyes were open, and the bell he might have used to summon Jacques had fallen, just inches from his reach.

  He had been dead for hours. Brian meticulously examined the body, then rose.

  Jacques started to scream again. “The curse! Oh, my God, the curse. An asp! He was bitten by an asp! Oh, good God, there are cobras here, snakes in the house. I’ve got to get out. I’ve got to get out, I’ve—”

  “Jacques! Stop it!” Brian said again, and he took the man by the shoulders, shaking him. “He didn’t die by an asp bite. I assure you, I would have found the marks. The way his mouth gapes open and he lies so contorted, I think we might be looking at a very different kind of poison. Get the police. Quickly. Do you hear me? Get through to a Detective Clancy with the Metropolitan police. This may appear at first to be a heart attack, brought on by his age. But there must be an autopsy. He was murdered.”

  “Murdered! Oh, God! Murdered. But I’ve been in the house all the time, ever since he returned last night! No one has come in, Lord Stirling, no one. Oh, my God! Lord Wimbly is dead! I…oh! I was here. They’ll think that I…oh, I would never! What will I do now? What will the police think? What will they do? They’ll arrest me! It’s the curse! He should have stayed out of Egypt!”

  “He was dead before he came home, he just didn’t know it,” Brian said. “The police are not going to arrest you. And I’ve got to go now. Do as I say, Jacques. Do it now!”

  Brian ran down the stairs and out the door. He knew exactly who had been doing the killing and why. And he had to move fast.

  ANOTHER MUMMY, crudely and heedlessly torn apart. True scholars would believe that she should be tortured for the next two hundred years, she thought. Then she began on the last one.

  Even before she started, she felt a thrill of excitement. The embalming had the mark of care, with fine linen and exceptional resin. The mask that had been placed over the face was that of a boy, but the mummy was not male, no matter what the subterfuge. The wrapping had been built up in the chest area, possibly to flatten the breasts, but, Camille thought, more probably to hide the fact that something had been secreted in the wrappings.

  She was so engrossed in her work that she didn’t hear the footsteps on the stairs. She was totally unaware that she was being watched.

  She took shears to the wrappings, carefully cutting the hardened area o
f resin. Then she began tearing at the ancient linen. Only when she heard the voice did she realize that she had been followed.

  “You’ve found something!”

  She looked up, startled by Hunter’s arrival. He came walking across the floor to her, and she was afraid. “No…um, not really. I thought I was a scholar, that I could find something, but as you can see, I’ve just made quite a mess. If there were a department left, if Sir John were still alive, he would surely fire me.”

  Hunter’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “No, Camille, you were right! I know what you were thinking. By God, yes! She was a witch. Hethre was a witch, revered, but feared, as well. And she was buried as she was because they wanted her soul locked in the world of the dead!” He paused. “And here…it is!”

  She had found it, but it was Hunter who pulled the piece from the breast of the mummy. The years had done nothing to take away the magnificence of the piece. It wasn’t the amount of gold in the sculpture, it was the jewels. The cobra was depicted with its collar flared. The eyes were huge, shimmering with the color of their gemstones. But diamonds, sapphires and rubies all made up the sparkling points on the reptile’s collar.

  Hunter was right next to her. She needed to get out of the crypt, away from him, as fast as possible.

  “Camille!” he whispered.

  He wasn’t looking at her. He was staring at the magnificent piece. She walked away from him. He didn’t seem to notice.

  “Hunter, what are you doing here?” she asked.

  “What?” He glanced back at her then. “I came to see Brian, to insist that he involve me in what was going on.”

  “So…you came to the crypts?”

  He smiled. The smile terrified her.

  “Believe it or not, there isn’t a soul around. There were police at the gate. I stated my business, and they let me enter.”

  “There’s no one upstairs?”

  “I didn’t go upstairs.”

  “You came straight here?”

  “Yes?”

  “Why?”

  “Well, because—”

  “Hey! Who is down there!”

  The sound of the voice at the top of the stairs relieved Camille so much that she began shaking. Quickly she moved away from Hunter.