Wrath of the Ancients

by Catherine Cavendish

  “I urge you most strongly not to think of leaving. Whatever has been unleashed will merely come after you. If I’m right, and I believe I am, you would probably arrive home to find that accursed portrait on a wall in your house and you really don’t want ancient wrath of this kind in your own home.”

  “But there’s something I really don’t understand. Dr. Quintillus was besotted with Cleopatra. He wanted her for himself. He loved her. He would be her willing slave. Why would she be so angry with him?”

  “Simple. Quintillus may have been besotted with her, but why should she reciprocate? She chose to die the way she did, in order to be with her beloved Mark Antony. Her body still is. Albeit, according to the late doctor, not as close by as she would have desired. Dr. Quintillus, in removing that gold statuette, also removed her spirit, which—it would appear—was being guarded by the god of death, Set. By his actions, the doctor angered a powerful queen and an even more powerful deity. He may also have disturbed another unquiet spirit and released yet more danger that should have remained incarcerated at Taposiris Magna. It is my belief that he brought the wrath of these ancient ones down on himself. I believe that, ultimately, it cost him his life.”

  “So…they killed him? But where is his body? In the house, mummified as I saw it?”

  Professor Mayer let go Adeline’s hand, leaned back and took a deep breath. He appeared to consider her question for a moment before he exhaled. “To the first question, I would say yes, most assuredly. As to your last two questions, I am afraid I don’t know. Nor have I yet worked out the real purpose of the painting, although I would guess by including the dust from her sarcophagus, he meant to recreate her in some way.”

  “But what about the model? Wasn’t she Cleopatra? Hadn’t he already brought her back from the dead?” Adeline put her hand to her head; a sharp headache thumped at her temples. She took a few sips from the glass of water that always accompanied coffee in Vienna.

  “I don’t understand that myself. No doubt more will be revealed as you move further into your assignment. As we’ve seen, Dr. Quintillus seems at great pains to cover every last detail. The problem is, the way things are progressing, we simply haven’t the time to wait and see. That is why we must find that scroll. I believe many of the answers will lie there.”

  “It’s so infuriating that I only receive the manuscript piecemeal.”

  “I share your frustration, my dear, but we must be patient a little longer. I’m also in contact with some of my former colleagues at Oxford. Not a day goes by here that I don’t thank Mr. Alexander Graham Bell for his marvelous invention.” He smiled.

  * * * *

  Tomorrow I shall be back in Vienna. The overnight train journey was not without curious incident. As I lay, trying to sleep in the impossible heat of my stuffy compartment, I imagined I saw a faint green light in one corner. It seemed to emanate from my jacket. I rose from my bed and reached into the pocket. Instantly, the green light winked off. I pulled out the statue of Set and turned it over in my hand. I never fail to marvel at the power that surges through my veins every time I touch it. My heart beats a little quicker, and I feel closer to my beloved…

  Adeline rested her hands on the desk and scanned the remaining ten pages. Not once did he mention the scroll, and today’s work was more concerned with his journey back, meetings with various academics at Vienna University and his delight at the ceiling of his library.

  Herr Klimt has done excellent work. I believe I shall have a most important commission for him very soon.

  Infuriatingly, he said no more about it then, nor on any of the sheets Butters handed her over the next two days. In fact, Dr. Quintillus seemed more concerned with the so-called “gypsy scourge” and the rantings of a painter called Adolf Hitler. From what she read, it seemed the archaeologist favored repatriating gypsy families who, he believed, were nothing but thieves, wastrels, and prostitutes. Yet again, she thanked providence she had never met the man whose manuscript she was typing so meticulously.

  Professor Mayer arrived early on Saturday morning, complete with a Gladstone bag of generous proportions, which he set down by the desk. He seemed energized and didn’t move as stiffly as on the last time she had seen him. Magda had earlier ensured a crackling fire warmed the library. The professor advanced toward it, and Adeline held his walking stick while he warmed his chilled hands.

  “It’s snowing heavens’ hard out there. This winter doesn’t want to let go its grip, does it?”

  “No, indeed, Professor. It’s very slippery underfoot as well. I hope you take care when you’re out and about.”

  “Of course my dear.” He rubbed his hands together one last time and retrieved his stick from Adeline’s outstretched hand. “Let us proceed. Up to the late doctor’s bedroom I believe. Best to bring that lamp along as well this time if we are to have a good chance of seeing whatever needs to be seen in that basement.”

  Adeline picked up the table lamp and, having made sure Magda wasn’t around to see them, she and the professor made their silent way up the stairs and along the corridor.

  Quintillus’s room was quiet and no longer reeked of lilies. On checking the side of the bed, Adeline saw the bowl had been removed.

  The professor picked up the other lamp and lit it while Adeline lit hers.

  “I’d better carry them both,” she said.

  “Not at all, my dear. I can manage perfectly well. I shall hook my walking stick over my arm and lean on the handrail. Now I am familiar with these steps, I shall be perfectly safe.”

  Adeline felt relieved she, too, would have a hand free to steady herself on the way down. She always had a sensation of something following her. Something that might welcome an opportunity to throw her off balance and send her crashing to the stone floor below.

  At the foot of the steps, the atmosphere seemed to close in on Adeline. An unwelcome cloak that threatened to suffocate her. The professor turned. “You feel it, too?”

  She nodded.

  “Come along, my dear. Let’s find what we came for.”

  Once inside, light from both lamps illuminated the detail of the mostly empty room more clearly.

  The professor peered at the far wall. He moved closer to inspect it. “I think I may have found another entrance.”

  Adeline hurried to join him and shone her lamp next to his. She could just make out the outline of a concealed doorway, similar to that in Quintillus’s room. The professor was already feeling his way down the left hand side to find a catch. A click. The door swung open. A familiar fusty smell of stale air and dust greeted them.

  The professor touched her arm. “Let’s see where this takes us.”

  Adeline’s heartbeat thumped in her ears. She followed the professor inside. Yet another room.

  “I should imagine the entire basement is a network of interconnecting rooms.” Professor Mayer said. “Let’s see what this one has to offer and if we can find another entrance. Perhaps one that will lead us into the room with the portrait.”

  Something small and black scurried across the floor. Its carapace was curiously iridescent.

  “Just a beetle,” the professor said. “And from my brief glimpse, I wouldn’t be at all surprised to find it was of the scarab variety.”

  Adeline’s voice quivered. “It looked like the one I saw in the fire that evening.”

  The professor nodded. “Interesting.”

  Adeline tried to reassure herself. “Old houses and beetles go together. I’m sure it doesn’t mean anything.”

  She studied the professor’s expression. “If you say so, my dear. I’m sure you’re right.”

  Adeline wasn’t reassured.

  A breath of foul air tickled the hairs on the back of Adeline’s neck. She clutched the professor’s arm.

  “There’s something down here with us. Can you smell that? Did you feel it?”

>   “Yes, my dear. It means we’re getting close.”

  Adeline marveled at how calm he sounded, while all she wanted to do was pick up her skirt and run.

  Her lamp flickered, then grew stronger again. The windowless room held some broken furniture and old wine cases.

  A green luminescence began to form on the wall opposite them.

  “This is the light you’ve seen before, I take it.” Professor Mayer said, moving closer.

  “Yes. Oh, Professor, I wouldn’t go anywhere near it.”

  The glow began to pulsate and then shimmer. A shadow took form on the wall. The jackal head on the man’s body.

  Adeline called out. “Professor, do take care! Remember what it did to you last time!”

  Professor Mayer backed away and rejoined Adeline. A hunched figure emerged as the shadows retreated. A familiar one in a tall stovepipe hat, long hair fanning its shoulders.

  “Dr. Quintillus,” Adeline whispered, gripping the professor’s arm.

  The figure took on substance, while the shadow of Set faded, along with the glow. In profile, the late doctor sat in a chair, his head bent forward. His hair and beard concealed his face. Death, decay, rot, and a saltiness that reminded Adeline of contaminated sea water in a stagnant pool flooded the room.

  Adeline remained rooted to the spot, but the professor took a few steps forward. While she watched, horrified, he reached out his hand and touched the figure on the shoulder.

  “This is no ghost,” he said.

  Adeline held her breath while the professor moved slowly around to the front and, with his thumb and forefinger, lifted the head.

  A rustling, crackling sound echoed through the room. Adeline flinched as, without warning, and of its own accord, the head of Dr. Quintillus turned and stared at her, with its eyeless, mummified face.

  “It’s all right, Adeline. The doctor is most assuredly dead.”

  Adeline couldn’t take her eyes off the blank expression, made all the worse by those two, eyeless black holes.

  “But he moved his head,” she said.

  “You may have seen that but I didn’t.”

  “Professor, his head turned. He’s staring at me.”

  “We are seeing different things, my dear. Tell me, do you smell anything? Lilies perhaps?”

  The sickening odor reached Adeline’s nose and she wrinkled it in disgust. “Yes. It’s overpowering.”

  “This time I do not. You alone are meant to smell it, because lilies represent death to you.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “No, my dear, neither do I. But I believe it is a far from subtle way of communicating to you that you have been selected for some purpose. Something to do with the afterlife, but any more than that I haven’t any idea.” The professor removed his thumb and forefinger and Quintillus’s head crackled like dead leaves as it dropped down onto his chest.

  “How did he get here?” Adeline asked.

  The professor shook his head. “I can only guess he has been here all the time.”

  “But we saw him appear. He wasn’t here when we came in. And last time he was in a different room. The first one we came through.”

  The professor was concentrating on the wall behind the corpse. “That would be pretty easy to accomplish. These concealed entrances make physical movement all too straightforward. I would imagine also, that we may well recognize the room on the other side of this.” He pressed the wall. A click. A cold draft ruffled Adeline’s hair.

  Professor Mayer nodded. “Before we go inside, I want to check something.”

  Adeline watched in horror. The professor reached his hand into first one and then the other outer pocket of the late doctor’s jacket. He shook his head and reached into the inner pockets.

  Adeline breathed a sigh of relief when he withdrew his empty hand.

  “No, that would have been too easy. They don’t want us to find it yet. If ever. But we shall.”

  The queen and the god? This other unquiet spirit he had mentioned? Whoever was orchestrating this, someone was working her like a puppet, dangling on a piece of string. Resentment and anger rolled up in a tight wad in Adeline’s stomach and began to reach upward. These might be forces she knew little about, but she would be damned if she would let them take her over.

  “Let us proceed, my dear.” The professor didn’t wait for her response. He was already making his way around the body and into the next room.

  Adeline gave Quintillus’s mummified body as wide a berth as possible, but the rotten stench sent bile rushing up into her throat. She swallowed it down and gritted her teeth.

  “As I suspected.” The professor held his lamp up high on the wall. They had returned to the room with the hieroglyphics and the portrait was back on the wall.

  Behind Adeline came a soft, whooshing sound. She spun around in time to see the door swinging shut, but at least in here they had an alternative route out. She shone her lamp around until she caught the welcome sight of the exit, leading to the corridor and steps to the library.

  “Let’s have a proper look around this room,” Professor Mayer said.

  Adeline joined him and their combined lamps lit up the dark corners. A small, black chest of drawers she had somehow failed to notice before reflected in the light.

  “Ah, that looks promising.” Professor Mayer set his lamp down on the top of the small chest and tugged at the top drawer. It gave without too much effort.

  Adeline concentrated on remaining calm and illuminating his efforts with her lamp.

  “I have something.” He pulled out a tightly rolled scroll and began to unravel it. A broad smile lit up his face.

  “What is it, Professor?”

  “I shall need to examine it and translate it but, if I’m not mistaken, we may have found the doctor’s precious scroll.”

  Adeline didn’t get a chance to speak. A loud crash sounded from the next room. A figure stood in the entrance. Tall. Male. In a long jacket and stovepipe hat.

  The dead face reflected gray in the light.

  Adeline licked dry lips. “Tell me you can see him standing there, Professor. Tell me I’m not the only one who can see that.”

  “Indeed you are not, Adeline,” the professor said. “Good evening, Dr. Quintillus.”

  Chapter 8

  The mummified figure stood motionless. Its rotten odor filled the room.

  In Adeline’s ear, a woman’s voice she had heard before, whispered in its unintelligible language. Anger once again drowned her fear and poured out of her. “Speak in a language I understand or shut up!”

  Professor Mayer’s expression mingled shock with amusement.

  Adeline couldn’t believe what she had just said. Her cheeks burned. “Sorry, Professor. I wasn’t referring to you. I keep hearing this woman whispering gibberish in my ear. I’ve had enough of her.”

  Professor Mayer nodded and addressed the silent figure in the doorway. “Dr. Quintillus, will you tell us what you have done with the statue you stole from Cleopatra’s tomb? You will not rest until you make amends for this terrible crime.”

  Quintillus didn’t move.

  “Dr. Quintillus, I believe I have the scroll. I have the means and knowledge to translate it. Soon I hope to undo what you sought to do.”

  A cracking noise, like someone walking across eggshells.

  “Professor! The portrait!”

  It glowed in a shimmer of iridescent gold and green.

  The profile slowly moved. Adeline watched in horrified fascination. “She’s turning…”

  “Intriguing,” the professor said. He limped closer to peer at the picture. “Could you bring your lamp, my dear? I need to see this in a better light.”

  How could he remain so calm? Adeline could barely breathe.

  The professor spoke gently, but firmly.
“Come my dear, the lamp. Please.”

  Adeline cast a quick glance back over her shoulder. Relief. Quintillus had gone.

  Reluctantly, she staggered over to join the professor. She stared at the haughty, regal face in the portrait. Its frozen gaze seemed to bare her soul. This would not be a woman you would want to cross—alive or dead. Adeline shivered in the sudden chill.

  “Yes, I noticed the drop in temperature.” Professor Mayer exhaled.

  Adeline flinched from the palpable force of the portrait. The face—now staring straight at her—had taken on so much life. Both eyes bored into her brain. Images of pyramids, desert, and swaying palm trees played through her mind. Anger and sadness that she knew were not her own welled up inside her, threatening to spill over, along with an unquenchable thirst for revenge.

  Professor Mayer must have sensed her disquiet. He laid his hand lightly on her arm, and she tore her gaze away from the hypnotic hold of the portrait.

  “Come, my dear. Away from that now.” He had tucked the scroll under his arm and now withdrew it. “Hold onto this, would you? I think we should return to the library. I must begin to translate this scroll.”

  Adeline forced herself to keep looking away from the picture, although it tugged at her, drawing her to it. She shook herself, trying to rid herself of its power. Another fear hit her. “What if Dr. Quintillus is waiting for us in the library?” She shivered again.

  “Then we shall act accordingly,” Professor Mayer said. He didn’t elaborate.

  * * * *

  The chill stayed with them. It crept along the corridor and back upstairs. Adeline made to enter the library. An icy gust knocked her off balance. Professor Mayer caught her.

  “We have certainly drawn attention to ourselves.”

  Adeline grabbed the handle firmly this time. Freezing to the touch. “Maybe she didn’t like me telling her to shut up. Whoever she is.”

  Back in the warmth of the library, Adeline breathed steadily, trying to slow her racing heartbeat. She set down the lamp and handed the scroll to the professor.