Horus and the Curse of Everlasting Regret (10 page)

“Hop in, kids,” he said, and Tunie followed Peter inside. In a single smooth motion, Perch dove down from the sky and right into the open bag at Tunie's belt. Tunie was relieved to see her pocket-sized friend, and she gave him a pat on his furry head before climbing into the car. It was the first time she'd ever ridden in an automobile. Through its glass window, Tunie caught sight of Detective Shade, leaning out of the station doorway, watching them.

She didn't see him return to his office. She didn't see him remove his shoe. She didn't hear him pace around his office on his peg leg.
Tap, tap, tap.

Peter noticed how Tunie gripped the leather edge of her seat as the car bounced along the dirt road toward her house, headlights exposing the dusty trunks of trees.

“You're the only people I know who have a car,” Tunie said, her voice rising at a particularly sharp jounce. “Fancy.”

Peter and his father laughed.

Peter's dad said, “It isn't ours. I borrowed it from the university president, who came by for coffee tonight.”

“Oh,” Tunie said. “That's my house, straight ahead.” She turned to Peter. “Can we talk tomorrow?”

Peter started to say yes, but his father interrupted. “Sorry, Tunie, but Peter's grounded tomorrow. He'll be cleaning all day as punishment for fighting with his stepbrothers, and he'll probably be grounded all next week for the stunt he pulled tonight, sneaking out like this. That old fellow was lucky you were there to see the person rob him, though.”

Tunie was silent for a moment as the car pulled to a stop, the headlight beams revealing what was little more than a hovel.
This was where Tunie lived?
Peter was stunned. His own cramped townhouse seemed like a palace by comparison. He felt ashamed all over again for how greedy he'd been at first about the reward money. Tunie's mom was gone, and she was worried she might lose her dad, too. Peter couldn't let her become an orphan. He'd give her a bigger share of the reward, he decided. He'd take just enough to go to camp. After all, without Tunie and Perch, he'd be nowhere with his investigation.

Tunie didn't exit right away. Instead, she scooted forward on her seat.

“Professor Bartholomew,” she said in an urgent voice, “I've seen Peter's stepbrothers gang up on him. Two to one. They're mean and they beat him and…well, a person can't blame him for fighting. I only wish I could be there every time, to make it fair. And also”—she spoke in a rush, to keep Peter's dad from interrupting—“the only reason Peter was out tonight was because of me. My dad's really sick, and Peter was helping me…finish some of my dad's work. I asked Peter for his help. I really hope you won't blame him for lending me a hand. Peter's a…well, he's a decent, good, and kind person. I'm the only one who should be in trouble,” she said. With that, she opened the door and slid out.

“Thanks again for the ride,” she said, and slammed the door shut, hurrying into the tiny house.

“Bye, Tunie!” Peter called through the window.

Peter's dad was silent for a moment. Then he turned in his seat, looking over his shoulder as he backed up the car.

“Well, Peter,” he said finally, “it sure seems like you've found a friend.”

Peter thought of how Tunie had stood up to the twins when they were attacking him, and how she'd defended him just now. She was the kind of friend he'd wished for all year.

“Yeah,” Peter agreed. “Tunie's pretty great.”

He spent the rest of the ride home answering his father's questions as best he could without mentioning Dorothy James or her kidnapping, while still mulling over how he'd sneak out the next day. He felt a jolt of excitement every time he thought of how, among the monstrous vines of the plant in Detective Shade's office, he'd hidden an intercom device he'd made. WindUp could receive radio waves from it. It had a Swedish nickel-cadmium battery in it that wouldn't last too long, though. Peter needed to get over to the Harbortown Police Station as soon as possible and try to get near enough with the receiver to listen in on Shade before the battery ran out. There was something about the detective that Peter simply didn't like.

With a satisfied sigh, Horus closed the book he'd been reading in the museum's tiny kitchen. The novel was a mystery about someone named Hercule Poirot, and Horus had been transported by the story to the point that he'd entirely forgotten where he was. What a blessing!

Something unusual was happening to the mummy. He felt a kind of unfolding in his chest, a softness, something gentle. He'd wanted to do something for Tunie, but what? His mother had liked sweets, dates, and honey. Horus had a sweet tooth himself. Yet he had no way to procure such things for Tunie. He'd grown to be a fair artist, doodling away the decades. Perhaps he could draw something for her. As long as he created something from things left behind and not from the exhibit, it wouldn't disappear.

He decided he'd ask her what kinds of things she liked, on her next visit.

Through the open doorway, the exhibit was silent and empty, the other sarcophagi on display showing impassive carved faces from dynasties earlier than his own. There was a mummy from a Middle Kingdom necropolis, another from the Second Intermediate Period. None of them still lingered in this world. Horus placed his wrapped hand on the book's worn cover. It was worth more to him than all the treasures he'd stolen while he was alive, more than gold, more than jewelry. The moment he'd realized Tunie and Peter could see him, he'd felt the buzz of opportunity like he hadn't since his pillaging days. He still could hardly believe that Tunie had brought the books. He'd already given her the information she wanted; he hadn't been certain she'd return, but she'd kept her word. He wished he'd known her while he was alive, instead of Turtanu. Someone like Tunie could bring out the good in a person, he thought. Maybe he would have been a better boy.

Maybe.

Horus looked down at the smooth sling stone in his hand. He remembered the last time he'd used the rock. He could almost smell the smoke from the flaming houses, hear the shouts of his brother's bare-chested soldiers. While he and Horus were looting, Turtanu had spied a young boy with a bow and decided he wanted it. The boy began to run when Turtanu shouted at him. Turtanu grabbed Horus's sling from his hand.

“Give me the rock,” Turtanu demanded. “I'll stop him.”

Horus hesitated. The rock was heavy and dangerous. Turtanu could kill the boy if he hit him in the head.

“I said give it to me!” Turtanu shouted. He snatched the stone from Horus's hand and swung it in the sling. Horus didn't stop him. Horus watched the rock fly through the air, a dark thing arcing against the blue sky, then heard a cry of pain and saw the boy collapse in the distance. Turtanu shouted with triumph and ran to catch him. Horus held his breath, terrified that the boy might be dead, and was greatly relieved to see him stagger to his feet.

Horus gazed down sorrowfully at the carved stone in his wrapped hand, much worn now. No point in dwelling, in wishing for things to be different. He wasn't a good boy then, and he wasn't any kind of boy now. Horus pondered, the hopeful feeling Tunie had roused in him beginning to fade. He supposed he should try to get what he could from Tunie and Peter before they grew tired of Horus, bored with outings to the museum. Before they realized they could never help that poor kidnapped girl, that two children and a clever bat could never hold their own against evil like those men. Horus knew from experience. After all, he'd been evil himself.

When Tunie crept in the door, her house was dark and silent. The air smelled of leftover soup. She could hear her father's labored breathing coming from his room. Tunie locked the door and pushed a stool beneath the doorknob, knowing that neither of these devices would keep out a persistent intruder. The idea of Dorothy's kidnapper roaming free out there was starting to make her feel a little on edge.

Perch, however, seemed entirely untroubled. He flew directly to his nook and fell asleep, issuing tiny bat snores.

Tunie realized they'd forgotten to tell Detective Shade that Horus had heard a tapping sound during Dorothy James's kidnapping, and that the banker with the cane was a possible conspirator. Tunie wished she could talk to Peter about everything; their promise to Detective Shade had prevented them from discussing the case on the way home. She decided she'd return to the police station tomorrow and make sure the police had all the details.

To take her mind off kidnappers, Tunie read a thin textbook on curses, trying to find something that might help Horus. Unfortunately, the book was about how to place curses on people, and sounded dodgy even to Tunie—tying string around a rotten cabbage and spinning it over a candle? Eventually exhaustion took over, and Tunie fell asleep fully dressed. She slept fitfully for a few hours and woke in the early gray dawn. She sat straight up and looked at the door. The stool was still in place, and her father was snoring in the next room. It was too early yet to head back to the station.

Tunie stretched and cleaned herself up as quietly as she could. Then she sat near the window on the other stool, flipping through a different illustrated book of curses: seasonal curses, curses of enemies, curses of familiars. Tunie didn't like to think about that one. As if reading her mind, Perch flapped over, hung upside down on a nearby towel bar for company, and snoozed.

Tunie turned to a page with a full-color illustration of a mummy beneath a full moon. The words
Everlasting Regret
were beneath the moon
. Wait a minute,
Tunie thought.
That sounds like Horus's curse!
She read on, her heart beating faster.

“The Eternity of Regret, or Everlasting Regret, is a curse one may place upon the selfish and unworthy at a moment when the cursed one is performing an evil deed. Although it is meant to last forever, it is said that acts of selflessness and kindness, performed under the eye of a full moon, may, over time, alleviate the curse.”

Tunie peered out the window. It was a foggy morning, and the sun was a white glow barely visible between the trees. If she went soon enough, she could visit Horus and tell him about the curse before the museum opened.

First, though, she'd pick some wild strawberries for breakfast. Her father needed something to eat besides day-olds. She'd seen some strawberries in the grassy patch behind their house a few days ago; they should be ripe by now. This was something else to be thankful for, Tunie thought. The founder of the museum had wanted to preserve the property's natural environment. Though their house was cramped, Tunie felt lucky to live surrounded by greenery. Fresh fruit would do her dad some good.

Perch woke up, blinked a few times, and squeaked to be let outside.

“Would you mind checking to see if anyone's around?” Tunie asked Perch. “I know it sounds crazy, but I'm afraid the kidnapper might be lurking out there.”

Perch squeaked his assent, and Tunie cracked the door open for him. After about five minutes, he returned.

“All clear?” Tunie asked him. Perch nodded his furry little head.

“Great!” Tunie said with relief. She quietly left the house and walked around back to the damp, grassy clearing. The strawberries were red and ripe. It took Tunie only a half hour to pick the berries, rinse them, and leave them in a bright bowl with a note for her father. Yet that delay made all the difference.