The Curse of the Silver Pharaoh

by Pip Ballantine

  Christopher nodded, trying to ignore Liam’s moaning—at least he tried.

  “So, I’m going to start askin’ you questions. You don’t have to answer them, but for little Liam’s sake, I think you should.”

  “Yes, sir,” Christopher stammered.

  Tiny leaned forward, making the floorboards underfoot creak. “You got friends in the school. How about you tell me about them?”

  Christopher had to tread careful like. He didn’t have to tell the truth, but he couldn’t lead him too far off the path. He had to give him just enough to keep his interest, and in turn keep him off Liam.

  “So, we got friends in the Academy, we do. They are smart, too. That’s why they are at the school an’ not us...”

  “Christopher,” Tiny said, his tone unmistaken for anything other than a warning, “after what you just saw, are you really going to try and toy with me?”

  He blinked. “Wot?”

  “That really is disappointing,” he sighed as he stepped away from Christopher.

  “No, Tiny, please, don’t…”

  Tiny cocked back and gave another swift punch to Liam’s wound. Then another. Christopher felt a few choice insults on the tip of his tongue for this Illuminati bastard, but he ground his teeth together.

  “In all my years of hurting people, whether it was like this or through a sniper scope, I learned a few things.” He turned away from them both and picked up the knife. “One thing is you can feel so much pain in one part of your body that eventually you lose feelin’ there.” He drove the point of his knife into one of the wooden floor planks next to Christopher. “This just means I find another part of little Liam, and I start working on that.” He tipped his head a fraction lower to look into Christopher’s eyes. “Do you want to try this again?”

  Christopher nodded quickly.

  “Tell me about your mates at the Delancy Academy.”

  Her name was on his lips when the rock came sailing through the window, shattering the glass. Tiny rolled towards the window before springing back up to his feet and peering through the shattered panes. The smooth stone rapped against the door, then bounced and rattled across the floor.

  When it came to a stop by Christopher’s leg, he saw the writing across the tagger’s stone surface:

  GET DOWN

  Christopher shoved himself into Liam and both of them toppled to the floor. He heard Liam scream into his gag, but it was only for a moment. Tiny turned towards them just as the door exploded. The Illuminati sniper stumbled just as the remnants of the door were kicked open and their room lit up with white-blue light. For a moment all was confusing shadow, even after the spots stopped dancing in Christopher’s eyes. When he finally got his vision back, the sniper was falling as if he were a great tree being cut down. Tiny died with his knife in his hand and a foot-wide smouldering hole burned in chest.

  Colin and Jeremy emerged from the hallway outside, followed by the plump, pleasant farmhouse lady, Agatha Summerson. Her weapon was an oscillator as long as she was tall and firmly strapped across her back. All the working in the fields really gave the old bird some strength.

  She smiled at him once they untied him and Liam. “A simple thanks will suffice,” she said, embracing him. “Pretty easy to track you down to a gin house after what Colin told me.”

  Christopher was not about to get upset or distracted by his mates talking out of turn.

  Her smile melted on seeing the other two gingerly handling Liam. “Oh my poor boy, let’s look at that…”

  Jeremy whispered to Colin. “Liam isn’t one for surgeons or doctors, miss,” Colin stated.

  “Then Jeremy, fetch me some alcohol from the pub. Be quick…and creative…in getting it.” Jeremy disappeared from where he came as Summerson said to Colin, “Look around here for anything we can use as rags. I may have to stitch him up when we return to the farm.”

  “Bugger me,” Christopher snapped. “I almost forgot…”

  “Language, young man,” scolded Summerson.

  “Pardon the colourful expression,” he returned, “but there’s a bleedin’ attack ship headed for the Delancy Academy.”

  “Bloody hell!” Summerson said, then clapped a hand to her mouth.

  Christopher chuckled. Maybe this old bird had a bit of spirit in her after all. “No truer word spoken, luv.”

  “We need to call in Agent Thorne straight away,” she said just as Jeremy appeared with something that looked like gin. Christopher felt no loss whatsoever on seeing it spill on the floor as Summerson soaked a rag in the drink.

  “Colin,” he asked, “you care to have the honours?”

  “Right-o, chuckaboo!” he said cheerily, raising his ring in the air and then driving his fist into the floorboards. After about three strikes, the stone was crushed into nothing but smaller shards.

  “Now we better leg it quick smart back to your farmhouse,” Christopher said as Summerson gently wrapped Liam’s ravaged arm in rags. “We can let Thorne hear about all this while you stitch him up.”

  As they lifted Liam to his feet and girded themselves for what would be quite a wild ride back to the farmhouse, Christopher hoped they would be able to tag along with the Ministry reinforcements. It had been a long time since he’d seen fireworks, after all, and Agent Thorne and his Ministry lot certainly did know how to put on a show.

  Chapter Nineteen

  A Visit without an Appointment

  “Right, class,” Mrs Seddon began, “today, we are going to focus on the various qualities of fire. This is an element we take for granted as it is everywhere, particularly at night, unless your homes are already outfitted with electricity.”

  “Electricity is the future,” Suzanne piped in. “Any home that has not switched from gaslight to electricity is hopelessly stuck in the past, so my father says.”

  Verity rolled her eyes, and waited for the fireworks to begin. She knew from experience Seddon didn’t like being interrupted. Seated next to Verity, Julia for once did not make a face at her nemesis’ antics, instead her gaze was fixed firmly on Verity. While their teacher rounded on Suzanne, Julia leaned over and hissed in her friend’s ear. “Wha’ the hell was that all about las’ night? A mummy—in Cornwall?”

  This was the problem of making friends with a clever girl, and Verity might have expected this to happen. She had only a couple of choices now; lie outright, tell her everything, or tell a half-truth. She opted for the latter since it might help keep Julia out of any further danger.

  “I don’t know,” she whispered back, “but Delancy had a love of Egypt. Maybe he brought back a cursed vase or something?”

  Julia’s brow furrowed as she processed that, but after a moment she gave a little nod. “Tha’ must be it,” she said, “dunnae make any sense otherwise.”

  Sense was something which was not usually important to Julia, but she did enjoy watching Suzanne be taken down a peg or two—which was what Seddon was doing. Verity was relieved when Julia focused on the battle, and didn’t probe any further.

  A muscle in Seddon’s jaw was twitching. “Electricity might be the future, but fire can truly take a dangerous compound and transform its qualities to one of the essential building blocks of life.” Mrs Seddon then motioned to the candle in front of her. “Now…who can tell me what this is?”

  Was she serious? Verity followed the class, but did not bother to hide the disdain in her face. What an absurd question.

  “Miss Danvers?”

  Alice perked up in her seat and stated proudly, “That is a candle.”

  “Very good…”

  Oh for heaven’s sake, Verity seethed as a pinching pain nagged at her temples. She shared a glance with Julia who merely shrugged. With the exception of the incredible display on the cricket pitch, progress in that class was redefining tedious.

  “Now there is a name for what this candle is comprised of…” and as if following the choreography of a ballet, Mrs Seddon turned to her book and started flipping through its page
s.

  Several hands shot up.

  “Hands down,” she barked.

  The hands quickly and quietly returned to their desk.

  The term you are searching for, Verity thought, is hydrocarbon.

  Her finger came to rest somewhere on the open page in front of her as she nodded her head curtly. “There you are. Hydrocarbon. That is what this candle is known as, a hydrocarbon. The wax is pulled through the porous wick in its centre, travels up its length…”

  The wax melts, changes to a gas, and produces a yellow flame…

  “The wax melts, changes to a gas, and produces a yellow flame.”

  Verity chocked back a groan. And this process is called—what, class?

  “And this process is called—what, class?”

  “Vaporisation,” the class droned.

  “Yes,” Mrs Seddon responded, clapping her hands together. “Well done.”

  Verity could not stop herself. She let her head drop to her desk, the thunk echoing in the classroom.

  When she opened her eyes, Verity noted the silence. Perhaps her momentary lapse in judgement had not gone unnoticed. “Miss Simmons,” Mrs Seddon called.

  A deep breath, and then Verity sat up slowly with a bright smile on her face. “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Are we feeling ill? Did you need to visit the Infirmary?”

  It was tempting, as it would release her from this fresh hell, but the fact of the matter was it would bring unwarranted attention. Then again, what she had just done accomplished the same. The lack of sleep on account of last night’s shenanigans most certainly didn’t help her disposition. Neither did hearing Suzanne and Stella snicker. Forcing her smile wider, Verity said, “No, ma’am. I just needed a moment to gather my wits.”

  “Front and centre, Miss Simmons,” Mrs Seddon said, beckoning her forward.

  Lovely, Verity thought, wiggling her fingers in preparation for an hour of filling in the Periodic Table. She was expecting Mrs Seddon to erase the elements, and present the blank canvas as she had in the previous six classes. At least that would have been consistent. Instead, the Chemistry teacher poured out a bright orange powder in the centre of the demonstration table. It reminded her of sherbet in its colour.

  “Miss Simmons,” Seddon began, motioning to the powder in front of them. “This is ammonium dichromate. It also goes by the rather provocative name Vesuvian Fire. It is an accelerant, a poison, and a corrosive. Rather nasty, wouldn’t you say?”

  Verity nodded. Where was she going with this? And why was she standing so close to such dangerous material?

  Mrs Seddon nodded, then drew a long match from the workbench, lit it, and passed the flame to Verity. “Please. Light it.”

  The class gasped, save for Julia. “Excellent,” she cooed. “Some real danger!”

  “Have no fear, Miss Simmons,” Seddon urged, walking over to the other side of the room and dimming the lights. “Go on.”

  Verity bit her bottom lip and gingerly placed the flame into the small pile of orange powder. She, and her classmates, all leaned in for a closer look as the powder began to pop and sizzle, sending red and gold sparks from its core. The orange colour was turning grey as the fire leapt higher. It was clear to everyone why this chemical was called Vesuvian Fire.

  “Miss Simmons,” Seddon spoke gently, “you realize you are breathing the gas coming from this poisonous, corrosive substance.” That was when Verity realised she and Mrs Seddon were both bent over the modest display of fire. “We all are.”

  “Thermal decomposition?” Verity asked.

  “Excellent, Miss Simmons. Thermal decomposition takes a normally dangerous compound and produces nitrogen, one of the key elements which makes life possible.” Mrs Seddon smiled at her warmly. “Those long hours you log in the library late at night are paying off, but they can wear a person down, so have a care.”

  A bolt of alarm went through Verity’s gut. Her eyes immediately went to Julia, who also looked a bit pale. It could not have been just some random observation.

  “Fire,” Mrs Seddon said to the class, as she turned the lights back up to full, “can not only kill but it can also save lives. It is known in some cultures to possess purifying qualities. The important thing to understand and respect about fire is it can only benefit mankind if kept in a controlled environment. Much like this experiment here. In small, controlled quantities, ammonium dichromate can be used in pyrotechnics, photography, leather tanning, and other industries. It also produces pure nitrogen which is essential in some laboratory settings. Larger quantities in an uncontrolled environment, and the results can be…”

  The entire building shook as the dull impact reverberated through their classroom. Bits of the ornate ceiling above them cracked, raining chunks of plaster on students and their desks.

  “All right then,” Mrs Seddon said with trepidation in her voice, “that wasn’t me.”

  Klaxons suddenly blared through the school, and were joined soon by the murmur of concerned students. Verity ran to the window and looked outside just as another impact shuddered the school. A thick veil of smoke rose from the other end of the building, but only the moors stretched for miles around them under a cloudy twilight sky.

  The small communication device on Seddon’s desk buzzed suddenly. “Emergency Convention Alpha. Repeat, Emergency Convention Alpha. This is not a drill. Secure the students and then report to your designated areas.”

  “Students,” Seddon’s voice sounded over the ensuing chaos both inside and outside the classroom like a gun firing overhead an angry mob, “come with me.” The students began to gather up their books and belongings, but Seddon clapped her hands. “Leave everything—” and she stopped abruptly as something slammed into the school hard enough to dislodge a light fixture overhead, showering them all with sparks. The students screamed, but Seddon refused to go unheard. “Children, remain calm, silent, and follow me!”

  Seddon tapped the communicator on her shoulder three times, and then led the class down the corridor, now teeming with students all walking quickly towards the boys’ and girls’ dormitory. The grand staircase was just at the end of the corridor, but it seemed miles in the distance when the sound of an explosion roared behind them. Verity was one of those students who dared to glance back. The East Wing was shrouded in smoke and the overhead chandeliers swung wildly. The students around her quickened their pace on hearing the rapid pop-pop-pop of gunfire.

  The crush of students slowed a bit, then doubled in its pace forward on reaching the massive skylight in the corridor. Once Verity and Julia reached the long, glass awning overhead, they immediately saw the cause for the moment’s hesitation. A grand airship, its guns pointing downward and firing on the East Wing, hung in the darkening sky, its dark, grey body looming over the school and slowly making its descent.

  “We’re under attack?” Verity asked incredulously.

  “I have heard this was a possibility,” Julia replied.

  “What?”

  “Yes, a dreadful business this academy can attract,” Julia said, pulling Verity a fraction closer to her. “Come along, did ya not think the Delancy Academy, an elite school honing some of the finest minds of the future, would attract the attention of nefarious organisations? Take it from a Scottish lassie, sheep like us would fetch a pretty penny!”

  A flutter of dismay ran through Verity. She had not considered such a thing outside the city. In London there were plenty of people who wanted to make the most of children, though not necessarily for their intellects. It was not a strange a notion to think there was such darkness in the country and upper classes, as well.

  Cries and screams ahead of them drew their attention forward. The lower half of the grand staircase was now slowly folding up, revealing a hidden chamber much like the one Emma had shown her, complete with gaslight fixtures illuminating the path ahead. From the angle and distance of the lights, though, this passage was wide enough to accommodate the current flow of students, and it descended unde
rneath the remaining staircase. Flanking the entrance were two teachers, ushering them all to this apparent safe area.

  “Julia, are you thinking—”

  “Aye!” she said, her smile most satisfied. “Tha’ has to be how Mrs Pyke ended up at the bottom of the staircase.” Then her smile faltered. “Does this mean we’re being led to that terrible pharaoh like animals to the slaughter?”

  “Not necessarily,” Verity said, an instinct flaring up in the back of her brain. “This is a big school, and we saw the pharaoh in the library. That is on the other end of the grounds.”

  “I hope you are right, Verity,” Julia said with a twist of her lips.

  In truth, the safe place everyone was being managed towards did appear like some wide open mouth, devouring students happily.

  Then, over the sounds of gunfire, screams, and distant explosions, Verity heard it. Tickety-tickety-tick-tick-tick. Tickety-tickety-tick-tick-tick.

  Verity grabbed Julia and worked her way into an empty classroom. She slammed the door shut behind them and immediately started looking between the desks.

  “Excuse me, girl,” Julia said, “but have ya’ lost ya’ mind?”

  “Just indulge me,” Verity insisted. Tickety-tickety-tick-tick-tick.

  “Verity, the world is comin’ to an end outside if ya’ haven’t noticed?”

  At the end of the fifth row of desks, she spotted him. “Mickey!”

  Julia ran up to her side just as Verity picked up the little clockwork mouse, its robotic nose twitching back and forth in time with the Sound in her head.

  “This is why we are here?” Julia insisted. “For your toy?”

  Verity looked at her creation, a light film of dust and cobwebs still clinging to his metallic body. Julia didn’t know about the Sound, so how would she understand the significance of what Verity now heard so clearly in her ears. Tickety-tickety-tick-tick-tick, Mickey repeated.

  “I know there is no time to explain, but Mickey found me. He’s found something he wants me to see.”