Theodosia and the Eyes of Horus

by R. L. LaFevers

  "Keepers," I corrected.

  He drew back, looking affronted. "That's what I said. Any ways, I were asking Stokes about it one day when 'e was waiting ter get in ter see Wig. They make a lot more blunt than chimney sweeps and porters and even pickpockets. I figger if I can join up, then me mam won't 'ave to be a washerwoman till the day she up and drops dead. And me brothers? Mebbe some of them could even go to school."

  "Aren't they supposed to go to school anyway?"

  Will snorted. "Ain't no one checks up on 'em, miss. And we need what they can bring in just to keep a roof over our 'eads and our bellies full. But Stokes said most of 'em Kipper fellows had gone to school for a wicked long time. Them big fancy universities and the like."

  "Oh, Will, how will you ever get to a university?" My heart was breaking. It was impossible for someone like him.

  He looked surprisingly undaunted. "I can't, miss, but it don't matter."

  "But then how will you join the Brotherhood?"

  "I got somefink better than a university." He rocked back on his heels and beamed at me. "I got you."

  "Me?"

  "You! I figger you know more'n anyone about all the Egypshun stuff, and you can teach me."

  I stared at him, speechless.

  He must have taken it as a refusal, for he grabbed hold of my sleeve. "You gotter 'elp me, miss! If you can teach me about all the Egypshuns, then I can prove to Ol' Wiggy that I'm more'n just an errand boy."

  As I stared into his big blue eyes, so eager and hopeful, I vowed that if he wanted a chance to prove himself to Wigmere, I would do everything in my power to help him. "Very well," I said. "I'll tutor you."

  "You will, miss?" he squeaked.

  "Absolutely. In fact, if you'd like, we can begin tonight."

  His whole face lit up and he looked as if he might burst out of his skin. "Why? Wot are you cookin' up in that 'ead of yours, miss?"

  "We-ll, it's a bit dangerous, and might be too frightening for you."

  Will scoffed. "Nah, miss. Nothing scares me. Not after seeing those mummies of yours walking down the street." He shuddered ever so slightly.

  I pretended not to notice. I knew better than anyone that being scared didn't mean you couldn't get the job done. "I'm so glad to hear you say that," I said, "because here's what we need to do. You remember Mr. Tetley?"

  "The bad guy mummified as punishment?"

  "That's the one. Well, his spirit, or mut, as the Egyptians called it, is haunting the museum. Haunting Henry, to be exact."

  Will whistled. "Why 'im, d'you think?"

  I gave Will a steely gaze. "Because he refused to wear the protective amulet I gave him, like the one I gave you."

  Will swallowed. "I love me am'let, miss. Wouldn't dream of takin' it off." He fished around under his grimy shirt collar and produced the amulet I had given him.

  "Excellent!" I said, surprised but pleased.

  He leaned in closer. "Ratsy and Snuffles still have theirs too, miss. I warned 'em not to take 'em off. Not wif all the magic running around town these days."

  At last someone who was taking the whole situation seriously! "See? You're already proving how good you'll be at this. Now, the only way to lay Tetley's spirit to rest is to give him a proper burial."

  "'Owyou gonna do that, miss?"

  "Well, as luck would have it, my grandmother is planning a memorial service for Admiral Sopcoate."

  Will recoiled. "That traitor?"

  "She doesn't know he's a traitor," I rushed to explain. "Hardly anyone does. But she's ordered a coffin for him, even though there's no body."

  Will's face brightened. "And why let an empty coffin go to waste, right, miss?"

  "Exactly."

  "So alls we got to do is slip that Tetley fellow into the empty coffin before the service."

  "Well, that's not quite all we have to do. There's a complication, you see."

  "What kind of complication, miss?"

  "It's hard to explain, because I barely understand it myself. I'm not sure if Tetley needs a Christian burial to be laid to rest or, since he was mummified in the way of the ancient Egyptians, if he needs ancient Egyptian funeral rites performed. He'll get the Christian rites at the memorial service, the blessing and all that, but I'm afraid we'll have to perform the Egyptian Rites of the Dead ourselves."

  "We, miss?" he squeaked.

  "Yes. We. And we'll need more than us to do it. You said Snuffles and Ratsy still have their protection?"

  "Yes, miss."

  "Do you think they could be talked into helping out? They'll be perfectly safe."

  Will snorted. "Safe! You think livin' 'ere is safe?"

  Good point, I thought. "Also, one of the most critical parts of every Egyptian funeral rite is the farewell feast for the deceased."

  "Feast?"

  "Yes, we'll have a picnic afterward, with lots of food."

  Will's eyes brightened at that. "I'm sure they'll want to 'elp."

  "Excellent. Now here's what I need you to do..."

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  A-Sneaking We Will Go

  THAT EVENING, MY PARENTS tucked me and Henry into our beds at eight-thirty, then left for an engagement. I gave it fifteen minutes to be sure they hadn't forgotten something, like Father's gloves or Mum's beaded reticule. When I was sure they wouldn't be coming back, I slipped out of bed and headed over to the pitcher and washbasin on my dresser. Before doing any magic or ritual of this importance, it was necessary to purify oneself so that—well, I'm not sure why, to be honest. But all the ancient Egyptian priests did it, so I assumed it was important. I wasn't about to attempt the rites unpurified and then just see what happened. It did not pay to cut corners with Egyptian magic.

  I washed my face and neck and behind my ears, then washed my hands twice. Next, I slipped into a fresh set of drawers, a clean petticoat, and a heavy cotton dress. I couldn't let anything made of wool or leather, anything that was part of an animal, touch my skin. I rinsed my mouth out with salt (since there was no natron at hand), and at last I was ready. My first stop was Mother's boudoir to collect one of the seven sacred oils I would need.

  I tiptoed into her room and studied the small assortment of bottles, jars, and brushes on her dressing table. When I was younger, she used to let me play dress-up and put her combs in my hair and fluff her powder on my cheeks. A wave of longing for those simpler days swept through me, leaving me nearly breathless. I missed that innocence, that special alone time with Mother. Instead, here I was pinching her perfume so I could prevent a fake mummy's very real ghost from haunting my younger brother. With a sigh of frustration, I snatched the small crystal bottle of rose geranium oil from her dresser and shoved it into my pocket.

  Next, I made my way to Father's dressing room and filched the Macassar oil he used on his hair. Two down, five to go.

  I headed downstairs to the pantry where I knew Cook and Mrs. Murdley, our housekeeper, stored the household oils. Hopefully, I could find what I needed there.

  I was in luck. Betsy, the housemaid, was prone to coughs and chest ailments, so we had a good store of camphor oil and eucalyptus oil. There was also a thick green bottle of cedar oil and a small bottle of lavender oil. I still needed one more. Then I remembered—the wretched cod-liver oil! A year ago, Cook had gotten it into her head that Henry and I needed daily doses of the foul stuff. After exactly three days of that, we'd had enough. In one of our moments of perfect accord, we had taken the hateful brown bottle and hidden it.

  I hurried to the old Huntley and Palmers biscuit tin where we'd stashed it. The ugly brown bottle was still there! Dusty as you please, but more than three-quarters full. Excellent.

  I carefully placed all the bottles of oil in a large, flat-bottomed basket, covered them with a tea towel, and set it by the back door. I returned to the pantry and got an even bigger basket and began collecting things for Tetley's funeral feast. I was sorely tempted to take the Easter ham, but I was certain Cook would notice that. Instead, I took a le
ftover meat pie, a cold chicken, a tin of biscuits, and part of a lemon cake that we'd had for tea. If anyone noticed them missing, I would simply blame it on Henry's newfound enormous appetite.

  Which brought me to my last problem: Henry. More specifically, how to get him to come with us to the museum. I was sure he wouldn't want to go and equally sure that he, or more important, the mut who'd attached itself to him needed to be there in order for the ceremony to work.

  I pondered this problem as I lugged the heavy second basket over to the door. The floor behind me creaked, and I froze.

  "Theo? Is that you?"

  I dropped the basket with a thunk, glad it wasn't the one with all the oils in it, then turned around. "Henry? What are you doing up?"

  "I heard noises and came to see what was going on." He glanced at the basket I'd just dropped and at the second one by the door and perked up. "I say, are you running away?"

  "No," I said carefully. This part would be tricky. If I asked Henry outright if he wanted to come with me, he'd say no. He'd made it quite clear what he thought of all these activities of mine. I had to find a way to make him want to come without his knowing it was what I'd wanted all along.

  Henry crossed the kitchen and squatted down to look at what was in the baskets. "Well, if you're not running away, what are you doing?" He reached for the lemon cake and I swatted his hand away.

  Nursing his hand, he narrowed his eyes at me. "You're play-acting at your mysterious game again, aren't you?"

  "Something like that," I admitted. "But I know you don't care for it, so I didn't invite you."

  His eyes dipped back down to the basket. "So why d'you need all that food then?"

  "It's for a picnic. After the game."

  "Where's this picnic going to be?"

  "At the museum."

  "And you're going to eat all that?"

  "No. Some friends are coming with me." Then, as if on cue, there was a light scratch at the back door.

  Henry jumped. "What's that?" he hissed.

  "My friends," I said, and opened the door. Will, Ratsy, Sparky, and Snuffles stood there, nearly hopping on their toes with excitement.

  "Let's get a move on, miss. Makes me nervous to stand in one place so long."

  "Hullo," Henry said.

  "'Ey, mate!" Sparky said. "Will didn't tell us you was comin' too."

  "He doesn't want to come," I said.

  Henry shoved me aside with his elbow. "I never said that. Let me just get my coat."

  He ran over and grabbed an old jacket from a hook near the pantry and slipped it on, and I fought down the urge to cheer. It had worked! He was coming with us. And I hadn't had to cosh him over the head and drag him the whole way.

  ***

  The fog had moved in, casting a chilling, thick pall over our neighborhood. The street lamps glowed eerily through the gently undulating wisps. Henry scooted a bit closer to Sparky.

  "Oy, watch out, mate. You're standing on me toes!"

  "Oh, sorry," Henry said, then sidled closer to me.

  Will and his brothers, on the other hand, seemed quite comfortable marching along the dark streets of London, as if they did it often. I, however, was greatly relieved to see the tall spires of the museum come into sight. Will's steps faltered slightly. "Looks a bit different at night, don't it?"

  "Yes, it does." It was an unusual building to begin with, very Gothic looking, with tall towers and odd spires here and there that seemed very sinister when observed on a foggy night with no adults around.

  "'Ow're we going to avoid that watchman of yours, miss?"

  Flimp! I'd nearly forgotten about him. "The back entrance, I think. It's more of a storage and unloading area, so he probably doesn't check there that often. Besides, it's farthest from his post."

  Will gave a nod, then motioned for his brothers to follow. We scuttled across the deserted square and around the side of the building to the loading dock.

  When we reached the back door, Will and his brothers stepped aside to make room for me to open it. I looked at Will. "Er, I don't have a key. I was hoping you could, you know..." I waved my hand vaguely.

  "You want me to pick it, miss?"

  "If you wouldn't mind."

  "I say, you can do that?" Henry stepped forward. "Can I watch?"

  "Course, mate." Will set the basket down and drew something very small and thin from his pocket. He gently inserted the pick into the lock and poked around. Henry bent over so he could get a closer look, his nose practically resting on the doorknob. We all waited, holding our breath, until there was a faint click. "Got it," Will said. Then he opened the door and we all went inside.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  An Unexpected Sacrifice

  WHY IS IT THAT THINGS ALWAYS LOOK so very different in the dark? While the receiving area was a large room, it felt positively cavernous at night. I fumbled my way over to the switch to turn up the gaslights. The boys behind me gasped. Annoyed, I turned to shh them, then saw that they were all staring wide-eyed at the coffin that was laid across two benches. Good. That meant stilton had been true to his word. I quickly checked the brass plate Grandmother had ordered to be sure this was Sopcoate's coffin. It was.

  Henry broke the silence. He came over next to me and patted the casket. "It's just an empty coffin, nothing to worry about."

  "We're not afraid of no coffin," Sparky said, puffing out his chest a very little bit.

  Snuffles and Ratsy agreed.

  "'Ush, you jabberers," Will said, then turned to me. "What now, miss?"

  "First, we have to purify the place," I explained. Henry rolled his eyes, but I ignored him. Being a responsible older sister was a great burden sometimes.

  "Here," I said, thrusting one of the oil-containing jars at Henry. "Make yourself useful and sprinkle this on that side of the room." Then I handed a lotus-shaped goblet to Snuffles and gave him similar directions. Ratsy and Will took the other oils and went to the other sections of the room. Not wanting to appear a complete idiot, I muttered the prayer invoking purification very quietly, under my breath.

  When that was done, I handed out the four small braziers. "Put these in each corner of the room," I instructed them.

  Will took the small dish. "What's this for?"

  "Incense, to purify the air."

  "You mean like they use in church?"

  "Er, not exactly like that. Incense is very difficult to find, so I thought we'd just light lucifer matches and let the smell of the burning matches purify the air."

  "Matches, miss?" Sparky perked up. "Can I do the honors?"

  "Yes, if you promise not to burn anything else."

  "Promise, miss." I gave him the matches and he busily got to it. I must say, he lit each match on the first strike, something I was rarely able to do.

  It was time to collect the mummy. I had no idea how heavy it would be, so I had Will, Ratsy, and Sparky come with me. Henry and Snuffles were left to keep watch on the receiving area.

  As the boys followed me down the corridor to the basement door, Will looked around nervously. "This place seems right different after dark, it does."

  "I bet you 'ave some might 'ealthy rats around 'ere, miss," Ratsy added.

  Perish the thought! It was all I could do to deal with Egyptian curses, restless mut, and a troop of urchins—I simply couldn't bear the thought of rats on top of all that.

  When we reached the door to the catacombs, I opened it as slowly as I could in order to minimize any squeaking. I turned on the gaslights, then led my band of merry men down the stairs. While I was grateful for so much stalwart company, I was also a little concerned as to what effect so much ka would have on the artifacts.

  Specifically, on the jackal statue.

  We reached the bottom, and Will and Sparky looked slightly subdued as they stared at the row of mummies. Ratsy must have been far more used to dark and gloomy places due to his profession, for he merely whistled in appreciation. Then he pointed at the statue of Anubis that sat atop
the Canopic shrine. "Hey, I've seen that dog before!"

  Not wanting to discuss that particular trick, I diverted everyone's attention by asking, "Do you all have your protection on?"

  "Right 'ere, miss." Will clutched his amulet and held it out for me to see. Ratsy and Sparky did the same.

  "Excellent," I said. It was so nice having boys who listened to me, as opposed to Henry, who fought me at every turn. "You two take the mummy's feet," I told Ratsy and Sparky. "Will and I'll get the shoulders."

  "Too bad you don't still 'ave that staff, eh, miss? Then you could just wag that thing at 'im and off 'e'd go."

  "True," I muttered. But it was rare that Egyptian magic ever worked to one's advantage that way.

  "On three," Will said. "One, two, three." With a series of grunts, we lifted the mummy, which weighed much less than one would think. Best not to dwell on why.

  We began the precarious journey up the stairs, which required a lot of juggling and instructions. I glanced nervously at Anubis, trying to gauge how all this life force was affecting him. It was hard to be one hundred percent certain in this gloomy light, but he appeared to be unchanged. I wondered briefly what he would think of our ritual tonight, his being the god of mummification and all, then I put that thought aside as Sparky bumped his elbow against the banister and nearly bobbled the mummy.

  When we reached the top of the stairs, I made everyone stop so I could make sure Flimp hadn't picked that precise moment to make his rounds.

  "Don't take too long, miss," Will muttered. "This thing is right clumsy to 'old on to."

  Once I was certain the coast was clear, we made our slow, bumbling way down the hall to the receiving dock. When we arrived, Henry leaped to his feet. "What took you so long? You've been gone for ages."

  "It was only five minutes, Henry. Besides, I thought you weren't afraid of the museum."

  "I'm not," he said. "I was just worried maybe Flimp had caught you."

  "Well, he hasn't. Put him down gently," I instructed when we reached the coffin.

  Once we had Tetley safely settled in the casket, I stepped back and studied him. Such a spiritual conundrum. Did a Christian man who'd been mummified according to ancient Egyptian custom require a Christian burial or an Egyptian funeral rite? If it hadn't been for Tetley's mut clinging to Henry like a macabre shawl, I would never have attempted what I was about to do. However, if Tetley was buried witout his ba, then it might stick with Henry permanently. I couldn't risk that. I could only hope that by covering all the bases, Tetley would find peace at last.