by K. M. Ashman
‘Doctor,’ she said, ‘you have returned.’
‘I have,’ said Samari, ‘but I do not come with good news, Nephthys, I am the bearer of destiny.’
‘What are these words, Doctor? The last time we met, we spoke of knowledge and a future shared. You offered your throat and I honoured your trust. Why is it that your eyes are now heavy with sadness?’
Samari didn’t answer, but opened the lid and poured the petrol over the floor. The effect of the fumes was instant in the confined space, and she stared at the growing pool of fuel with her deep black eyes.
‘What is this poison that burns my eyes, Doctor?’ she asked, looking up at him.
‘It is release, Nephthys, release for you and possibly for me. I meant everything I said, yet there are others who do not share my views. They want to lock you in a place such as this, for all eternity, harvesting your blood to be used by mere mortals in a vain attempt to mirror your immortality.’
‘I know of their desire for my blood,’ said Nephthys, ‘but they waste their time. Only nightwalkers enjoy immortality, man is nothing but prey.’
‘I don’t know if you are truly immortal or not,’ said Samari, backing up toward the door, ‘but I can’t take that chance. Better to end this now, before any lasting harm is done.’
‘Your liquid is meant to harm me,’ said Nephthys. ‘All your words of trust were nothing but lies. Yet again man proves he is not fit to stand alongside nightwalkers in this world. Amenemhat, Ramesses, Montague, Doctorsamari, all are nothing more than vessels of lies. There is only one being fit to rule these lands, teller of lies, and that is I, Nephthys, daughter of Sekhmet.’
‘You may be right, Nephthys,’ said Samari, ‘and I wish there was some other way, but there is not.’ He pulled out a lighter from his pocket, but in his haste, the lighter fell to the floor, before he had time to ignite the flint. For a second, they both looked at each other across the pool of petrol.
‘What is that thing?’ asked Nephthys.
‘Nothing,’ he said taking a step closer to the lighter.
‘You said it was better to end this,’ said Nephthys. ‘You think you can harm me? Do you still not understand? Nothing can destroy nightwalkers, except the fire of the sun.’ Her head spun toward the lighter again, as understanding dawned.
‘Is that what your trinket is, Doctor, a machine of fire?’
The look in his eyes confirmed her suspicions.
‘Oh, Doctor;’ she said, her voice heavy with malevolence, ‘you stupid man. You could have had it all, now there is nothing but death.’
Samari went diving across the floor and grabbed the lighter. He held it up before him.
‘Stay away from me,’ he said. ‘One flick of my finger and this place will burst into the flames.’
‘Then we will both burn,’ she said.
‘If that is what it takes, then it is a sacrifice I am willing to make. Your time is over, Nephthys. There is no room for your kind in this world anymore. We have enough troubles without things like you murdering old women.’
‘You know of the woman?’ said Nephthys.
‘I saw you with my own eyes.’
‘I have never hidden my needs, Doctor. It is your kind who spew lies as easily as her vein gushed blood. I am what I am, and you are what you are.’
While they were talking, Samari hadn’t noticed that she had edged her way toward the open door. Too late, he realised her intention.
‘No,’ he screamed and dragged the wheel down on the flint. The spark ignited the fumes in the room and as the explosion of flame engulfed Samari in a burning furnace of pain, the same blast blew Nephthys through the door and into the auditorium.
----
Chapter Nineteen
Outside Mulberry Lodge
The taxi pulled away, leaving Becky and John outside the ornate gates.
‘Put that card somewhere safe,’ said Becky, referring to the taxi driver’s business card. ‘I don’t want to be stuck out here if I can help it.’
‘Me neither,’ said John, ‘so, shall we press the button?’
‘Hang on,’ said Becky, ‘If Samari is indeed in there, I don’t want him to know we are coming. Do you think there is another way?’
‘I doubt it,’ said John, ‘though the walls don’t look too high. We could climb over and sneak up to the building. Of course, if we are caught, we will be guilty of trespassing.’
‘One more to add to our growing list of misdemeanours,’ said Becky. ‘Okay, let’s do that, but not here, let’s go up the road a bit first.’ They walked along the perimeter before finding a place on the wall that was a bit lower than anywhere else. John helped Becky up before scrambling up himself and dropping into the wooded area on the other side.
‘Watch your step,’ whispered Becky, ‘it’s a bit rough underfoot.’
‘It’s going to be dark soon,’ said John. ‘Let’s try to get through these woods while we can still see.’ They crept slowly through the undergrowth, trying to avoid making too much noise. Ten minutes later, they crouched at the forest edge, gazing across well-manicured lawns to the impressive manor house a few hundred yards away.
‘What do we do now?’ asked Becky. ‘We’ll be seen if we walk across there.’
‘Wait until it’s dark,’ said John, ‘and see which areas are lit. Hopefully, there’ll be some dark areas that we can use to get across.’ They retreated back into the trees and sat against a large fallen tree.
‘Warm enough?’ asked John.
‘I’m fine,’ said Becky, ‘I just want all this nonsense to be sorted out, once and for all.’
‘I know how you feel,’ said John, ‘all of a sudden, it doesn’t seem worth it. You are risking your job; I’ve risked my liberty entering Egypt illegally, and all for what? To prove some corrupt Egyptian official is hiding the existence of a tomb that will probably be revealed in a few years anyway.’
‘And to clear my father’s name,’ said Becky.
‘Of course,’ said John, ‘and I don’t intend to back out now. It’s just that sometimes, I wonder what your father would have made of all this.’
‘Well, he went to a lot of trouble to let us know Samari was up to something,’ said Becky, ‘but even if he was wrong, at least I get to see Samari’s face when he realises we are on to him.’
‘And what do you think about the other thing?’ asked John. ‘You know, the idea that they may have found some sort of cellular cure for aging.’
‘To be honest, I don’t know what to think,’ said Becky. ‘On the one hand, the scientist in me tells me it is impossible and this is some sort of elaborate hoax, but on the other hand, those results from Craig were pretty conclusive, and he had no need to lie. If this is a hoax, somebody, somewhere, has gone to an awful lot of trouble and expense to make it as convincing as possible. Why on Earth would they do that?’
‘I suppose if enough people fell for it, it may convince them to loosen their wallets and fund further research.’
‘Possibly,’ said Becky, ‘but there are potentially some big names involved here. As much as I hate Samari, there was a time when he was one of the most respected names in Egyptology. He still is, in fact. And of course, then there’s Montague.’
‘Hang on; we don’t know if he is involved yet,’ said John, ‘it could just be a coincidence. You would expect men of their stature to meet occasionally, let’s not hang him just yet.’
Becky glanced up at him.
‘Sorry,’ said John, ‘poor choice of analogy.’
‘That’s okay,’ said Becky.
Silence fell for a few moments, before John spoke again.
‘Hungry?’ he asked.
‘A bit. Why?’
‘I have these,’ he said, retrieving a couple of packages from his pockets. ‘Not homemade, though. Bought them in the corner shop this afternoon.’
‘They look damn fine to me,’ said Becky, as she opened one of the sandwiches. ‘Mmm, cheese and onion, my favourite.’
----
Half an hour later, they stood on the edge of the woods once again, this time in total darkness. In front of them, discreetly placed lights illuminated the topiaries of the gardens and up-lighters bathed the front of the manor in a warm red glow.
‘Over there,’ said John, pointing toward a hedge that ran alongside a path leading toward the building. Whilst the path was well lit with sunken lamps, the grass side of the hedgerow was in relative darkness, due to the shade it afforded. ‘If we keep our heads down as we go,’ he continued, ‘we should remain out of site until we are close. After that, we need to take our chances and run across the last few yards to the house.’
‘Some house,’ murmured Becky.
‘You know what I mean,’ said John. ‘Are you ready?’
‘I suppose so,’ said Becky. ‘What do we do when we get there?’
‘Take a look through the windows,’ said John, ‘see if we can get a clearer picture of what this place is. Right, stay close.’ With that, he crouched low and ran to the hedge line, closely followed by Becky. They ran up toward the manor, keeping their heads low to avoid being seen from the windows. At the end of the hedge, they paused in the shadows to catch their breath.
‘Look,’ whispered John and pointed across the drive to a sign.
‘Welcome to Mulberry Lodge,’ read Becky, ‘a quality home for quality people.’
‘Wow,’ said Becky, looking up at the three story façade, ‘I wonder how much it costs to see out your days here?’
‘More than you or I could afford, I would imagine,’ said John scanning the front of the building. ‘Most of the windows have their curtains drawn, so I don’t think there’s much risk of being seen from there. Can you see any CCTV cameras?’
‘There’s one there,’ said Becky, pointing at a camera fixed to a bracket on the wall, ‘and there’s another.’
‘Those two are okay,’ said John, ‘they seem to be fixed, but that one is on scan.’ He pointed to a third.
‘Scan?’
‘It’s swinging back and forth across one hundred and eighty degrees,’ said John, ‘I think there’s enough time to get across the road, but we will have to move fast. You up for this?’
‘Ready when you are,’ said Becky.
John looked at the camera and timed its movement over a series of sweeps.
‘Right,’ he said, ‘get ready, and when I say go, run like hell. Aim for that internal corner, the other side of the flowerbed. I think it will be hidden from any other cameras.’
‘Okay,’ said Becky.
John looked up at the moving camera.
‘Get ready, three, two, one, go!’
They both burst from the shadow of the hedge and sprinted toward the protection of the internal corner where a wing met the main building. John was a few yards ahead of Becky, and though he made it to the safety of the wall easily, he stopped suddenly when Becky tripped and fell headlong into the flowerbed. He glanced up quickly at the camera, which was beginning its return journey. Becky had picked herself up and was limping as quickly as she could but John ran out and grabbed her, helping her to the safety the wall offered.
‘Shit, that was close,’ he said. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I think so,’ she grimaced, ‘but my bloody knee is killing me.’
They looked down at the tear in her jeans.
‘You’re bleeding,’ he said, looking at the spreading stain appearing on the denim. He pulled out a Swiss army knife and cut away some of the torn fabric.
‘I don’t think it’s too bad,’ he said. ‘At least it’s not deep.’
‘Hurts like hell,’ she said. ‘Haven’t you got a first aid kit in that rucksack of yours?’
‘No, sorry,’ he said. ‘Hang on.’ He took off his ever-present hat and folded it over. ‘Hold this against your knee for a few minutes, it should stop soon.’
‘Are you sure that’s hygienic?’ she asked.
‘Stop being such a baby,’ he said, ‘and do as you’re told.’
A few minutes later, the pain eased, and Becky stood up alongside John.
‘Ready?’ he asked.
‘I suppose so.’
‘Okay, let’s go.’
They started to walk around the edge of the building, hugging the walls to take advantage of the shadows. As they reached each window, they carefully peered inside, trying to see anything that may shed any light on the situation.
‘Shit,’ said John after they had passed another window blocked by curtains. ‘This obviously wasn’t one of my better ideas.’
‘The curtains are open on this one,’ said Becky, and John hurried along to join her.
She stood, peering through the window with her hands raised to either side of her eyes. The curtains were slightly ajar, but there were no lights on in the room.
‘Can you see anything?’ asked John.
‘Not really, it’s too dark.’
‘Let me see,’ he said and replaced her at the window. It took a few moments for his eyes to get accustomed to the darkness on the other side of the glass, but when they did, he started to make out familiar shapes. ‘It looks like a bedroom,’ he said, ‘actually, more of a hotel room. There’s a bed, a sideboard, a small table and a couple of chairs. It all looks very nice.’
‘One of the rooms for residents, I suppose,’ said Becky.
‘Yeah,’ said John, ‘Hang on, what’s that?’
‘What can you see?’
‘I’m not sure, I think…hang on. Oh, my god, I think it’s an arm. It looks like someone is lying on the floor on the other side of the bed. I can’t see them, but it certainly looks like an arm sticking out.’
‘Let me see,’ said Becky. As soon as her eyes became accustomed to the dark, she focussed on the bed area. Sure enough, she could make out the dark shape of an arm on the floor, sticking out past the bed frame.
‘Oh, John, I think you’re right. It looks like someone’s collapsed. We have to help.’
‘And how do you suppose we do that?’ hissed John.
‘We have to go tell someone,’ she said. ‘We can’t just leave her there.’
‘Or him?’ said John.
‘Whatever,’ snapped Becky. ‘Someone could be hurt and we have to help them.’
‘But if we just go in there,’ said John, ‘then all this will be for nothing.’
‘Look,’ said Becky, ‘you know how much I would love to find out something sinister about Samari or Montague, but this is the real world here. Somebody in there needs help and we may be the only people who know. We can’t just ignore it, we have to go and tell someone right now. Whatever happens, none of this will bring my dad back, so I guess I am just going to have to live with that. What I won’t be able to live with, is if we ignore the fact that somebody may have needed our help and we walked away.’
‘You’re right,’ said John. ‘Enough is enough, come on, let’s go and find someone.’
‘Where?’
‘The main entrance,’ said John, ‘I guess there should be a reception of sorts. They’ll probably want to know how we got in here, and especially, why we were peering through their windows, but we’ll worry about that later.’
They left the protection of the wall and stepped out onto the tarmac roadway, heading toward the entrance. A few moments later, they were at the ornate oaken door.
‘Here goes,’ said John and rang the bell. When there was no answer, he tried a few more times before turning to Becky.
‘Odd,’ he said.
‘Try the handle,’ said Becky, ‘we may not have much time.’
John turned the handle and was surprised to find it unlocked. The door swung inward and they nervously stepped inside.
‘Hello,’ called John. ‘Anyone here?’
They both looked around the ornate hall. A reception desk lay along the left wall, but it was completely unmanned.
‘So much for security,’ mumbled John as he walked in.
The house was strangely
silent and they walked up to the reception desk before calling again.
‘Hello,’ called Becky. ‘Is anyone here?’ But again there was silence.
‘I don’t like this,’ said John. ‘Something isn’t right.’
‘John, look at this,’ said Becky, and leaned over the desk to rub her hand along the lower inner counter.
‘What is it?’ asked John.
‘It looks like blood,’ said Becky examining the smear on her fingers, ‘I think we had better call the police.’
‘Hang on,’ said John, ‘we may be getting a bit carried away. The receptionist could have cut her finger and has gone to get a plaster?’
‘Okay,’ said Becky, ‘but I still don’t like this.’
‘Come on,’ said John, ‘let’s see if we can find someone else.’
They continued through the quiet hallway and to a closed door that was set in the wall.
‘What’s that smell?’ asked Becky.
‘I don’t know, but it’s disgusting,’ said John.
‘No, not that one, there’s something else, I think it’s smoke.’
John opened the door to pull it toward him and as he did, Becky screamed out in terror as the body of an old man who had been sitting against the other side, fell to the floor before him.
‘Aaarrgh!’ shouted John, as he involuntarily stepped back.
‘John, is he okay?’ shouted Becky.
After a few seconds to calm his nerves, John came to his senses and crouched down to see if the old man was okay.
‘Hello,’ he said, ‘can you hear me? Are you okay?’
He placed his hand to the side of the man’s neck to check for a pulse, but quickly brought his hand away again, covered in blood. He turned the man’s head, and then dropped it suddenly, when he saw the side of the man’s throat was ripped to shreds.
‘He’s been murdered,’ he said.
In the distance, they could hear people shouting for help. John got up and turned to Becky.
‘Becky, phone the emergency services. Tell them we need the police, fire brigade and ambulance.’