A blush came over Malcolm’s pale cheeks as he realized suddenly why Penny had reached out to Simon instead of him. He could never have seen her mother’s walking corpse as anything but a walking corpse. He would have dealt with it as he dealt with any monster, without thinking, without caring. His gaze fell away from her. To all appearances, he remained still only a brute in her eyes.
“I’d walk into Hell with you, Penny Carter,” Malcolm admitted quietly.
Penny’s eyes widened at the remark and her cheeks grew even rosier in the brisk air. She glanced away toward the house, parting the bush with her hands, changing the subject. “Are we going to wait out here all day?”
“Yes. We’re only here to observe and follow them if they leave the house.”
“Bugger that.”
“Impatient?” he asked.
“Hungry.” Penny rubbed her eyes. “Someone ate all the sandwiches. The best I can hope for is a buttered roll in the house.” A steam horn blared from a boat on the Thames, which flowed nearby along one edge of the property. Penny clamped her hands over her ears. When the noise abated, she suggested, “Let’s just sneak in and snatch the box.”
“Demon queen,” he reminded her.
“I’m not afraid of an Egyptian snake charmer.”
“I am.”
“You said yourself, magicians are merely humans. One good shot and it’s all over.”
“She has a dragon scale.”
“I’ll nick it and you shoot her.”
Malcolm scowled at her, but he was just as antsy. He hated sitting, doing nothing.
“Without that box, the Mansfields would be out of the game,” she pointed out. “One less villain to deal with. We can go focus on Barnes and curing Simon.”
Malcolm’s jaw worked incessantly as he considered the option. “Maybe we could go in and just look around for it.”
“That’s the spirit!” Penny stood up. But Malcolm didn’t. “What are we waiting for then?”
“Waiting for dusk.”
She squinted pointedly toward the west, where the sun was a mere fan of light on the horizon.
He continued scowling. Her agitation was causing his own to stir.
She scoped out the manor with her goggles. “Which entrance are we going to use?”
Malcolm indicated a cellar door that lay on the left side of the house, barely fifty yards from the river sparkling through the trees. “With luck there will be no one down there.”
“There will also be no sandwiches.”
Malcolm let out a harsh sigh. “I’ll buy you a bloody sandwich after.”
“Done.” Penny dug deep into her pack and produced a small pistol. The little weapon had a thick iron tuning fork where the hammer should’ve been.
Malcolm eyed it warily, knowing the engineer’s penchant for contraptions. “What does that do?”
“It produces a harmonic wave.”
“So it hums?”
“You’ll see. I heard your guns weren’t getting the job done so we could try something else.”
When he raised an eyebrow in her direction, Penny indicated the heavy cartridges he carried for his Lancaster pistols. She gave her little weapon a pat and shoved it in her belt. Then dug into a pocket to produce a handful of dice. “Will we need to blind anyone?”
Malcolm couldn’t help but smirk at her enthusiasm, and looked at the little cubes. “Keep them handy.” With that, he rose and moved low toward the cellar door. Penny shouldered her heavy pack and chased after him. No groundskeepers challenged their approach. The estate was oddly silent as Malcolm grabbed hold of one-half of the dual cellar doors. He glanced over to Penny, who pointed her wee pistol. She gave him an excited nod as she took aim at what might lie inside. Malcolm flung them open.
A stale darkness greeted them, silent and still. The loamy smell of damp earth welled up into their noses. Malcolm paused to light a lantern and went first, his Lancaster pistol in his other hand. The light revealed only hard-packed dirt floor and damp stone walls.
The light flashed on a pile of bones, white shapes against the blackness of the earth.
Penny gasped. “Please tell me they aren’t human.”
“They’re not.” Malcolm knelt beside the heap. He lifted a bone near as long as his arm.
“What is that? A cow?”
“Or a horse.”
“Horse? They were butchering a horse down here?” Her face crinkled in disgust. “Or do they have very hungry dogs?”
None of the bones had cleaver marks on them. And they weren’t very old. They were clean as if they had been boiled and stripped of flesh.
“Well there’s one good thing,” Penny remarked.
“What’s that?”
“I’ve lost my appetite.”
Malcolm noticed something else nearby; a hole in the ground about four feet across. He shined the light down its gullet. It went deep, straight down about ten feet before curving horizontally. “Snake demons. Very nasty. Let’s hope we don’t meet up with them.”
He motioned Penny forward with him, heading deeper into the basement, looking for a way up into the house. They passed a brick slab in the corner, raised a foot off the dirt, littered with oaken casks, many holed, empty, and shoved to the side. The stone walls glistened with dampness. They were below the water line of the nearby Thames. He wouldn’t be surprised if the damn place flooded easily during heavy rains.
Penny touched his shoulder and pointed at stairs to the far right toward the rear of the house. Malcolm moved toward them, anxious to be out of the dirt-floored cellar. She stayed close on his heels as they went up. There was a closed door on the second landing. He listened for several minutes while Penny kept an eye behind them with the lantern. He tried the handle and found it was unlocked. Dim light spilled in as he opened it a crack. The hallway was empty so they darted in and quickly closed the door behind them. The corridor was simple and unadorned, likely the servants’ quarters. There was no sound of activity or any smells of cooking.
They weaved their way through the maze of halls, but still no one challenged them. Malcolm almost saw disappointment on Penny’s face. Anxiety rose in the Scotsman. Something wasn’t right.
A staircase curved up around a corner. The engineer indicated that Malcolm should lead on. He crept up the stairs. They had no real idea where to look for the box containing the Skin of Ra. It was unlikely it would just be sitting out. No doubt it was secured somewhere safe from prying eyes. They came up on the ground level. They were in an alcove just off the dining room. The table was set elegantly for eight, but the dishes actually had dust on them.
“Their guests are really late,” Penny jested.
They quickly surveyed the room, which produced nothing, then moved to the room adjacent. It was a study with an oaken desk that was covered with immense maps. Penny poured over them, studying the locations marked.
“Cairo. Calcutta. Java,” hissed Penny in amazement. “They certainly have been traveling a lot.”
“Find the box.” Malcolm was already rooting through the desk drawers.
Penny’s tongue clucked curiously as she regarded the objects on the bookshelves. Malcolm could hear her thrilled gasp all the way across the room.
She whispered, “Do you know what this is?”
“I know it’s not a box.”
“It’s a sextant.” There was wonder in her voice.
Malcolm glanced at her curiously. “Perhaps I overestimated your scientific knowledge.”
“It’s not a normal sextant. Look here.” Penny pointed to a mechanism attached to the brass, boasting intricate gears and a green vial of swirling gas. “This is aether inside a compression chamber. And the aether is guiding this pointer.”
“Can it find a box?”
“Blast it, you daft man! This was made by a damn fine mystical engineer.”
“Better than you?”
“Let’s not get irrational. This is their symbol. I’ve never heard of ’em.” There was a sma
ll design etched into the base.
“Put the blasted thing down and help me find the box.”
“All right, all right.” Penny checked her pack for room, but then returned the device to its place and continued rummaging to no avail. The box was not here.
It was the same for the next four rooms, so they moved to the east wing. However, when the door opened, they stared in amazement.
“Holy,” breathed Penny as she stepped inside. The vast room was empty and silent so even the barest of whispers still echoed across the chamber. “Are we still in London?”
A gigantic Egyptian temple, one to rival any true shrine nestled on the banks of the Nile, occupied the huge greenhouse. Mighty columns held up the ceiling thirty feet above their heads. The walls were lined with obelisks covered with ancient script and Egyptian carvings. Colors were rich enough to be breathtaking, with yellows that glittered like gold and blues that could match any desert sky.
A dais, like an altar, occupied the middle of the chamber. It was raised ten feet off the floor. Candles and urns surrounded it, all lit and smoldering as if someone had just left or was about to arrive.
“I’m going for a closer look.” Malcolm stepped forward but had to stop Penny with a strong hand as she moved with him. “Stay here.” His foot sank into sand. He realized the Mansfields had recreated the Egyptian desert inside this greenhouse. He felt exposed in the open chamber. The eyes of the paintings on the wall seemed to follow him as he walked toward the altar. He told himself the room was empty. He climbed onto the platform around the dais. The altar’s top was hollowed out slightly.
He was about to wave Penny forward when a door opened on the far side of the temple chamber. Malcolm leapt from the dais and sprinted back to Penny. He slid the last six feet back to her as she crouched anxiously behind a great lotus pillar. She made to exclaim something, but Malcolm motioned her to silence. Penny bit her lower lip tight and pulled him in close beside her.
Far across the sandy floor, Mr. Mansfield and Nephthys entered. The ambassador held a whiskey decanter in his hands along with a glass filled to the brim. The decanter was less than half-full, suggesting he was well into an inebriated state. Nephthys wore a long black cloak that swept the floor. She looked very much like a goddess painted onto an ancient tomb. Nephthys clutched the ebony box tightly against her chest. The box shuddered violently. Whatever was inside was trying to get out.
The demon queen marched purposefully to the dais and climbed up two steps. She set the box on the altar, and her lips moved, whispering to the agitated thing within. Her bluish hand opened and closed in an odd motion, almost as if she were signaling. The sand floor of the chamber suddenly undulated and a mound like a burrowing animal came at extraordinary speed straight at her. A second mound appeared and roared toward the altar from another direction. They both stopped at the base of the dais. She held out her hand, palm downward. The mounds shivered and two large shapes rose, with sand pouring off them.
Penny nearly gasped at the sight of the huge snake-creatures, but Malcolm placed a calming hand on her arm. He gave her a confident wink that he didn’t completely feel.
Chapter Twenty-five
Nephthys gathered her dark cloak closer about her like a shroud and spoke to her husband without looking at him. “Do try not to drink yourself into oblivion just now. Too much depends on our success.”
Mr. Mansfield drained the glass of whiskey in his hand, but he dutifully placed the glass and decanter on a bust of Hathor. Nephthys scowled at his irreverence.
“Eternity beckons me.” Nephthys gazed out over the temple. “I am the lynchpin of his endeavor.”
Mansfield’s face boiled red. “Without me, my dear, you wouldn’t be able to accomplish your work. Or his.”
“Yes, yes. You’ve been a valuable commodity, like a wagon or a coal scuttle. You must be so proud.”
Mansfield sneered drunkenly and his drawl grew ever more rustic. “Don’t forget, I’m the one who spent years with him traveling out in the wilds of the Louisiana Territory. I stood around while he dug in the dirt and picked up rocks and talked to every damn Indian he could find. Now I’ve always been interested in the arcane. I saw root doctors down South do some mysterious things. But I saw Gaios do things that even New Orleans witches said only God could do.”
From behind their column, Penny gaped at Malcolm with wide eyes and mouthed the word “Gaios.” The hunter tried to look unmoved, but lifted his pistol and took comfort in its weight.
Nephthys regarded Ambassador Mansfield with surprise. “So, tool, do you know what Gaios is planning?”
“Honey, I got no idea what he’s planning. Just like you don’t know. He doesn’t tell anyone what he’s thinking. We all have jobs and he puts it all together. We’re just the pawns that run around helping him gather his precious artifacts like”—he jabbed an accusatory finger at the simple box that contained the Skin of Ra—“that damn thing.”
“Which I found for him.” Nephthys stroked the ebony box.
“Well, most of what he has now, I bought for him. He owes me.”
She waved dismissively. “If that’s all you care about, you’ll get what you’re owed. Once he settles his score here in Britain, we’ll all get what we’re owed. Now be quiet. Your sniping pains my head. I must prepare. I need utter silence to meditate.”
The ambassador laughed with contempt before falling against an elaborately carved column. “I could use some entertainment about now. Please proceed with whatever production you are going to undertake.”
Nephthys glared at him, joined by the snake-creatures, whose narrow eyes bored into Mansfield. “Careful, Ambassador. My chnoubis don’t care for you. Perhaps less than I.”
“I’m not afraid of your pets. I’ve dealt with snakes my whole life. Get on with it.”
The black shape of Nephthys drifted around the dais almost as if she floated. “This magic is only revealed to the high priests of Ra.”
“So you’re a high priest of Ra now?” Mr. Mansfield threw his head back and guffawed. “You’re a miserable conjurer who got famous because Pendragon threw you in prison. And the only reason you act so important is because you’re the only one willing to risk using the Skin of Ra. Not even Gaios himself would do it. That either makes you the most stalwart or the most foolish.”
“It is my birthright. I’m Egyptian.”
“You were born in 1713. Now, I admit, you’ve got a fine figure for a woman of your age, but I know you’re the fifth Nephthys. So stop acting like some kind of old pharaoh come to life.”
Nephthys ignored him. She took a position at the altar and dropped the cloak from her shoulders. The woman stood naked. She was well formed, a bit plump, with disconcerting azure flesh. Mansfield looked at her without interest as she lifted the lid of the ebony chest. “You witness the birth of Ra at your own peril.”
Malcolm studied her naked form but only to confirm there was no glowing dragonscale flitting over her. She was not wearing her protective necklace. The time had come.
Mansfield staggered drunkenly across the sandy floor and clambered up onto the dais with heavy grunts. Nephthys kept her head held high in a worshipful poise, facing the altar. The chnoubis shivered ominously. Nephthys nodded at them and the snake-creatures settled.
A pistol shot rang loud in the chamber and Nephthys gasped as a bullet struck her in the chest. Blood sprayed over Mansfield’s white shirt. He spun about, showing a long dagger in his hand and a look of surprise on his face.
Nephthys didn’t scream; she groaned, almost in pleasure. Blood dribbled down over her stomach. Her legs quivered. She leaned forward to let a stream of blood trickle from the tip of her breast into the wooden box.
Malcolm stepped from hiding, and the chamber echoed with roaring pistols and filled with clouds of smoke. The chnoubis’ bodies jerked wildly in the hail of bullets. Mansfield leapt for the floor.
Malcolm then heard a strange guttural tongue reverberate through the room. Nephthys�
��s mouth was moving, but the voice seemed to be emanating from the ebony chest. The air in the chamber became suddenly arid and hot like a true Egyptian desert. Something appeared at the rim of the box.
A small white snake.
No, he realized. It was a ragged strip of cloth curling out of the box, up into the air, as if alive. It was linen such as used to wrap a mummy. Both sides of the yellowish cloth were covered in hieroglyphs that seemed to glow with a dim light. It rose on its own power several feet over the waiting Nephthys. It quivered, then it started to pour over her naked body like a stream of water from a fountain. It slithered along her arms and legs, fluttering as if caught in a desert whirlwind.
Malcolm continued his barrage. Penny stood beside him, firing with her smaller four-barreled pistol. Lead balls seemed to pass around the swirling aura, smashing the temple walls and columns behind Nephthys. The flashing linen tightened around the woman’s body, wrapping each thigh, her stomach, and chest. The hieroglyphs on the linen grew brighter. As it climbed along her shoulders, Nephthys’s expression changed from intense pleasure to discomfort, then terror. She started to scream, but the cloth filled her mouth. Energy seemed to boil out of her and feed the Skin of Ra as it slid over her wide, panicked eyes. And then she was totally encased.
The air had turned desiccated. Malcolm’s throat was bone dry and his skin felt like it was ready to crack. He reloaded out of habit. Penny slid her empty gun into her belt, coughing in the dry air, and pulled the small pistol with the tuning fork.
The room was deathly silent. Then the mummy moved. An arm. A leg. Even though her eyes were no longer visible, the thing’s head turned slowly to stare at the pair of intruders.
“What do we do?” Penny shifted nervously under the mummy’s gaze.
“Kill it if we can.” He holstered one pistol and drew a dagger.
The hieroglyphs on the linen flared and the mummy lifted her arms. Cloth shot out from her fingers and seized Malcolm and Penny around their chests. Malcolm sliced at the linen, but with no effect. He roared as his hands seared with pain. Penny cried out as well. The mummy lifted them off the ground and flung them at the chnoubis.
The Undying Legion Page 22