Curse of the Mummy's Uncle (12 page)

Holding the metal book open in front of him, the archaeologist began chanting words Nick couldn't understand. He assumed it was Mayan or something even older. As the archaeologist finished reading the last of the words, he held the book above his head, shouted something, and looked to the sky. The wind blew so hard it took Nick's breath away. Hail covered the ground. And then . . . everything stopped.

All at once the wind quit blowing, the rain ceased, and the sky cleared.

Nick looked at Jiménez, waiting for some kind of miraculous change. The archaeologist stood, chest out, hands holding the book above his head, face toward the sky.

The rain forest returned to its normal cheeps, chatters, and howls.

“Well,” Carter said, leaning forward. “Are you a god?”

Slowly Jiménez lowered the book. He looked at
himself, then down at the altar. Watching his face crumple was like watching a kid learning he wasn't getting any presents for his birthday. He seemed so lost, Nick almost felt sorry for him.

The archaeologist stumbled backward, fell against the altar, and muttered, “It didn't work.”

Mr. Jiménez studied the book before letting it slowly fall to the ground. He stared at his hands as if he'd never seen them before. “I don't understand. I did everything right. It should have worked. I did the research.”

Carter wormed himself into a sitting position. “So, um, did you ever consider the possibility that you're, you know,
completely crazy
, and people don't actually get superpowers unless they're bitten by radioactive spiders?”

“What?” Jiménez looked around, seeming to realize for the first time that Nick and his friends were still there. He grabbed the book and knife, and Nick was afraid the archaeologist was going to kill them after all.

Instead, he shoved the items quickly into his bag and looked around as though wondering who else might have seen him. “Now listen,” he said with a nervous laugh. “I know what you all must be thinking.”

“That you're a complete psychopath?” Carter suggested.

“You've got the wrong idea.” Jiménez shot a considering glance at each of the boys, and appeared to make up his mind. He hurried around the altar, picking up the incense holders. “Weren't you boys telling me just this morning how bored you were? How you wanted some adventure?”

Nick didn't recall anything like that, but he wanted to see what the man had in mind—especially if it didn't involve killing him and his friends. He nodded as best he could while still being tied up. “Sure. I remember that.”

The archaeologist licked his lips. “You wanted excitement. I provided it. I was thinking just this afternoon that we hadn't really shown you a good time. Dr. Canul is such a stick-in-the-mud. But this is your vacation. So, I thought, hey, why not give you something to remember? A little playacting.”

“You're saying you drugged and kidnapped us because we were
bored
?” Angelo asked, clearly not believing a word of it.

Mr. Jiménez forced out a laugh. “A mild sedative. To make the whole thing more believable. Did it work? Did you believe I was actually trying to trade your life force for the power of the sun god?”

“I tell you what I believe,” Carter said. “I believe you're a total—”

“Totally great actor,” Nick interrupted. “That was amazing, with the chanting and the incense. I absolutely thought it was real.” He gave his friends a meaningful look. “Didn't you guys?”

Angelo was the first to catch on. He winked at Nick. “I might have believed it for the first few minutes. When I woke up gagged and tied up, I thought it was real. But then when you started making up all that obvious fake Mayan stuff, I realized it was only an act. It was exciting though.”

“
Fake?
” Mr. Jiménez huffed indignantly, then chuckled. “I mean, well, I had to make it seem real, didn't I?”

Carter's forehead crinkled. He frowned at Nick and Angelo, before understanding crossed his face. “Yeah, it was totally cool. I especially liked the cutting-your-hand thing. Only, how did you make it storm like that?”

The archaeologist's smile froze. “I, um, well . . . It's a rain forest. Storms happen all the time.”

“It was great!” Nick said, hoping his enthusiasm didn't sound as forced as it felt. He held out his tied
arms. “Now that it's over, you better untie us. My parents are probably getting worried.” Once they were free, the first thing he would do was tell anyone who'd listen what a raving maniac Mr. Jiménez really was.

Perhaps the archaeologist heard something in Nick's voice. Or maybe he wasn't quite as gullible as he seemed. His eyes narrowed and he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “You know, if I were to release the three of you, and you tried to claim this was anything more than a fun little game, it could get
awkward
for all of us.”

“What kind of awkward?” Angelo asked.

Mr. Jiménez reached into his bag and removed the metal book. “The kind where the wrong conclusions might be made. I have strong connections with the state authorities. It would be quite unfortunate for you—and your parents—if the
policía federal
were to get the impression that outsiders had attempted to steal national treasures.”

Nick's gut went cold. “If we say anything about what happened here, you tell the police we tried to steal that book?”

“Among other things. Your mother and father have spent the last two days with their hands on all manner of valuable items. It would be a shame if some of them turned up in your tent.”

“That's blackmail!” Carter shouted, yanking at his
ropes. “Nick's mom and dad would never steal anything. And neither would we.”

“Take it or leave it,” Jiménez warned. He put the book back into his bag and took out the knife. He turned it left and right, the blade flashing silver in the light of the moon. “Do you agree to say nothing about what happened here? Or do I find another way to shut the three of you up?”

They didn't seem to have much of a choice. “Fine,” Nick said. “Get these ropes off us.”

Jiménez grinned and cut the three boys free. “Don't forget,” he snarled. “One wrong word and you and your family spend the next twenty years in a Mexican prison.”

Nick turned and stomped away with Carter. Angelo stopped to grab his monster notebook. “Where's my backpack?”

“And my hat?” Carter demanded. “I'm not leaving my yarn and needles behind.”

“It's all in the temple,” Jiménez said, looking more than a little flustered. “We can come back for it in the morning.”

“If we all rush him, we can take him down,” Carter whispered. “Then we can tie him up and tell everyone what really happened.”

Nick shook his head. “He's probably got a dozen
men ready to swear he was with them all night. Right now, Jiménez has the power. But once we get back home, I'm going to do everything I can to make sure he gets punished.”

“I knew that guy didn't have any idea what he was doing,” Carter said. “He probably copied that ceremony from some old horror movie.”

“It was real,” Angelo said.

Nick and Carter stared at him like he'd gone as crazy as Jiménez.

Angelo leaned close and whispered, “The reason it didn't work wasn't because it was fake. It's because his blood isn't royal.” He flipped open his monster notebook and turned to a page where he'd been copying pictures from the different carvings they'd seen. He pointed to a drawing of a line of people, one above the other. “Remember this?”

“Yeah,” Carter said. “It was on the wall of the temple of the moon. What did you call it? A Jenny something?”

“Genealogy,” Angelo said, making sure to speak softly enough that Jiménez couldn't overhear him. “It's a lineage of power passed from one king to another. See, here on the bottom is the child king buried in the pyramid. Above that is his father, grandfather, and so on. Look at the second-to-last picture—the baby's father
who was killed along with his wife. I didn't notice at the time, but see to the left where his siblings should be? According to this, he had only a sister, not a brother. When the king and his wife were killed, his sister would have been charged with looking after the baby.”

“So it wasn't the king's uncle who had the power,” Nick said. “It was his aunt. Which means her husband was royalty by marriage, not by birth. The mummy's uncle didn't have royal blood, and Jiménez doesn't either.” He thought for a minute. “How could Jiménez not have realized that?”

“Everyone's been so focused on the pyramid of the sun, they never took time to study the pyramid of the moon. And you know what? I think the royal family might have been buried there. Why else would the entrance be sealed off?”

Carter brushed a few stray pieces of hail out of his hair. “But if Jiménez didn't have royal blood, why didn't we all disappear like the first group of explorers did?”

Angelo glanced up toward the pyramid of the moon. “Maybe we still will.”

By the time they reached the base of the pyramid, they could tell something was wrong. Lights were on all over the camp, and a small crowd was gathered outside the meal tent.

“They're probably organizing a search party to come find us,” Angelo said.

But as one of the men moved aside, Nick spotted a familiar figure sprawled out on a cot. “Mom!” he screamed, racing through the crowd. His mom was lying down in front of the tent with thick white bandages wrapped around the top of her head.

He skidded to a stop at her side, and she looked up at him and smiled weakly. “There you are. I was worried about you.”

“Worried about
me
?” He reached out to her bandaged forehead, then pulled back his fingers, afraid he would hurt her. “What happened? What did Dr. Canul do to you?”

Carter turned to face the crowd, arms raised in a boxing stance. “Where is he? I'll make him wish he'd never been born.”

Dr. Canul stepped out of the tent. “Your mother slipped and hit her head. It's possible she has a slight concussion, but she's going to be fine.”

Nick's mom nodded. “It's true. We were finishing our dinner when it started to rain. Dr. Canul suggested we go into the temple. We went inside and there was a bright flash—lightning, I guess. I tripped and hit my head on the altar. But I'm fine, really. I just feel a little . . . woozy.”

Carter lowered his fists, and Nick's shoulders slumped with relief. “Where's Dad?” he asked.

“Over here.” Nick turned to see his dad sitting in a nearby camp chair. He was bent over, head in his hands.

“Are you okay?” Nick asked.

Dad moaned and rubbed the back of his neck. “On top of the pyramid, I started feeling sick. My head is spinning and my stomach feels like I ate six corn dogs and went on the Tilt-A-Whirl over and over. It must have been some bad tamales.”

Mr. Jiménez pushed his way through the crowd. “When exactly did you start to feel this way?”

“What are
you
doing here?” Nick growled, stepping between the man and his father.

The archaeologist ignored him. “Think. Did you begin feeling sick before your wife hit her head or after?”

Dad shivered as if he'd just had a bad chill. “I'm not sure. I wasn't sick when we went into the temple. I think it might have come on at about the same time.”

Nick turned on Mr. Jiménez. “I told you to leave my parents alone.” Carter and Angelo moved to his sides.

Mr. Jiménez shook his head. “This isn't possible.”

Nick was about to tell the archaeologist he'd reveal the whole story, threats or not, when his mom suddenly sat up.

She looked around the crowd, her eyes so wide her pupils seemed to be lost in a sea of white. Slowly, she reached up and pulled off her bandages, revealing a nasty-looking bruise and at least a dozen stitches.

Nick stepped toward her, then froze as she held out her hands. Her palms glowed with a faint green luminescence.

“Mom?”

She stood, and the glow spread from her hands, up her arms, and over her entire body, like a shiny green cloud rising from her skin. She turned her head, and a pearly silver light shined on the crowd as if her eyes had been replaced by twin flashlights.

Mr. Jiménez stumbled backward, his jaw slack with terror. “No. This can't be. It's not possible. I'm the one who should have . . .”

Nick grabbed the man's sleeve, yanking him violently around. “What did you do to my mom?”

Mom raised her hands, and dark black clouds swirled above her head like a tornado. The crowd fell back, horrified.

“I. Have. Returned,” Mom said. Only it wasn't her speaking. Her voiced sounded deep and powerful, like a monster or a . . .

“A god,” Angelo whispered.

Mom grinned a fierce smile, baring all her teeth. Her face burned with such a bright green radiance that Nick had to squint to keep from being blinded by it. “It is I, Awilix of the Nija'ib' noble lineage. Goddess of the Moon. Queen of the Night.”

There was an audible gasp from the people gathered before her. Several of the men turned and ran.

“Mom!” Nick cried. He turned to his father for help, but Dad was collapsed in his chair, his head thrown back and eyes closed.

Mom raised her hands, and twin bolts of lightning shot out from the clouds, striking the temples on both of the pyramids. “I go to gather my forces and reclaim my power,” she roared, her voice like cracking thunder. “You'll all regret the day you disturbed our rest.” With that she turned and began to climb the pyramid of the moon.

Carter watched her go, his mouth hanging open. He turned to Nick and grabbed his shoulder. “Dude, did you know she could do that?”