The Mummy (13 page)

They stood up to leave. “I suggest you keep your window closed and locked, Miss Richardson.”

“But what about Seti? He's still lost.”

“If he comes home in this storm, he'll get under a bush or hide someplace until morning. Then he can come in the door. I have three cats. They have their hiding places.” He smiled at Lana for the first time. “I can understand how this scared you. I can understand how the Egyptian people came to worship cats. I'm crazy about mine.”

To have this large police officer confess that he loved cats himself made Lana start to cry again. This time quietly. She took the hand he offered and thanked him. Compared to drive-by shootings, muggings in the park, and some of the other calls he went on, this one was pretty tame. But he seemed to understand how she felt.

Sunday morning, at first light, Lana was awakened from a deep, dreamless sleep. It was the sleep of exhaustion, and she woke feeling heavy and disoriented. But something had awoken her.

She sat up, shook her head to clear it, then got up and flew to the window. Snow piled on the limbs of the huge cottonwood tree. The world was white.

Something tugged at her, forced her to grab her robe, slip her feet into her slippers, and run to the front door. A warm, magnetic force seemed to pull at her. She unlocked the door and jerked it open.

There on the front porch sat Seti. He didn't sit for long. The minute Lana pushed open the screen, he slipped through the narrowest of cracks and ran to the kitchen. Lana ran behind him.

“Seti,” she cried. “Seti, where have you been? Are you all right? Let me see you.”

Seti crunched a dry morsel of cat food and lapped water as if he was terribly thirsty. Then he looked up at Lana and smiled his tiny smile. She grabbed him into her arms and hugged him tight. He cooperated for a minute. Then he wiggled.

She set him back onto the floor, and he started eating again. Wherever he'd been, he hadn't eaten or had any water. But he wasn't wet like he would be had he stayed outside in the storm all night. Had someone trapped him and kept him prisoner while they played the awful trick on her?

She didn't know, but she sat beside Seti and rubbed his back while he ate.

Lana needed to stay inside and finish homework. She tried studying while Seti snuggled first on her lap, then moved to the bed for some serious sleeping.

By afternoon the sun was shining, melting the fall snow quickly. For the first time, Lana wished she didn't have to go to the museum. But she was scheduled for the afternoon and evening shift. She couldn't let the staff down. One volunteer had the flu. Another was called out of town on an emergency. There weren't any substitutes available.

She hoped she didn't look as tired as she felt. And, at first, talking about the relics, telling the stories and myths about Egyptian culture, energized her.

The big news that Marge could hardly wait to tell her, the minute she arrived, was that the wedding necklace was back. Someone had returned the jewelry, actually placing it inside the glass case. The news hadn't been reported on TV or in the newspapers, but whispers spread among the huge crowds who were visiting the exhibit, and the necklace was what people wanted to see first.

“Why do you think it was returned?” a woman asked Lana as soon as she'd viewed it carefully. People huddled so close to Lana and the case, she felt smothered. She stepped behind the glass enclosure and leaned on it slightly.

“We don't know who took it, or why the thief decided to bring it back,” she said. “We're just grateful to have it in the collection again. We can send the exhibit back to Egypt intact, with not too many black marks against the museum.”

She did have a strong opinion she didn't voice for the visitors. Having the necklace return the day after Antef Raam was shut into the coffin could not be coincidence. Surely he had taken it. Someone saw or knew he was guilty and used their own peculiar means to frighten him into returning it. As much as she deplored the theft, she was glad that Antef had this chance to undo his crime. This chance to keep from ruining his life and disgracing his family.

Antef was on duty at the exhibit today, smiling and more animated than ever. Was that relief she saw on his face? She couldn't make eye contact with him. She had to use her imagination.

The warm pull toward Nefra's coffin was the strongest it had ever been. Lana could have stood there all day. She moved quickly through her tour in order to spend extra time beside Nefra. She always positioned herself so she could stand right next to him, as well as see his likeness on his sarcophagus.

Love would be the word she'd use if someone asked her to describe her feelings. Her emotions were raw, resting right on the surface, so that might explain why she felt her love to be more powerful today. But love was an emotion she could handle.

“Your voice changes when you talk about Nefra and Urbena, Miss Richardson,” a young woman said. “You are emotionally involved with their story, aren't you?”

No one had ever asked her such a question. No one had ever been so observant. She felt her face flame. She stared at Nefra instead of her audience and trusted her voice.

“You are very perceptive.” She looked up then and smiled at the young woman.

“I'm a psychologist, trained to watch body language and listen to voices.” She laughed. “I could even go so far as to say I think you are in love with this mummy, or maybe this king. But I would hate to embarrass you.”

The crowd laughed. They knew Lana was already embarrassed. Her face grew hotter and suddenly she had to move away from Nefra. She led the group out of the exhibit. But she walked alongside the woman who had accused her of loving the young king.

“Do you think a person can tap into leftover emotion, even from thousands of years ago?” Lana asked softly.

“I'm open to most any idea about emotions, Miss Richardson, and to energy floating around us, how it might bounce off these artifacts, carrying ancient feelings to those who are open to feeling them.”

“Would some people be more susceptible to receiving those feelings than others?” Lana dared ask.

“Of course. Lots of people walk through life feeling as little as possible. Others seem to be living magnets for the emotions around us.”

The fact that the woman used the word Lana had been using herself, magnetic, made Lana listen even more carefully.

“But Lana,” the woman used Lana's first name, printed on her badge, “at the risk of frightening you, if you can pick up positive emotions, you can also pick up negative — vibes — for lack of a better word. You said earlier that Egyptian royal life was full of jealousy, murder, and the fight for power. Those feelings may still surround these artifacts as well. Take this ring, for instance.” She stopped at the last case before they reached the entrance. The crowd had moved ahead of them into the hall.

Lana was catching on. “If I wore it, I might be able to feel what the original owner felt?”

“I believe it's possible. Some people would say this is ridiculous, the result of my imagination, but I'm one of those people who can read off metals. I can hold any piece of jewelry and receive emotions that the owner felt. Some are stronger than others. Depends on the events in the wearer's life. Negative emotions seem to hang onto metal longer and stronger.”

“I wish I could let you hold the ring, but I don't have a key to the case, nor the authority for that. What you experienced would be fascinating, though,” Lana said.

“You can see I like antique jewelry.” The woman pointed to the pin and the ring she wore. “But I have to be very careful buying pieces. I held this ring for a long time before I bought it. And I have given back jewelry I knew I couldn't wear.”

“Do you have a card?” Lana asked. “I'd like to talk to you more.”

“Of course.” The young woman fished in her huge denim bag and pulled out a slightly dog-eared business card. “Do call. I'd love to talk to you, to test you further. I think you're the most sensitive person I've come across in a long time.”

Lana's collection of strange knowledge was growing by leaps and bounds. She stored the woman's words for further thought, and further reading, if she could locate reference material.

She muddled through guiding one more group, feeling nothing by now. Her own powers of receiving were dulled by exhaustion. Two nights with little sleep were taking effect. Marge had offered her a ride home and she accepted gratefully. She wished she was in the car now.

Taking a flashlight from one of the wall cupboards so she'd have extra light, she checked every case, shining the beam onto each shelf, checking, double-checking, as she prepared to close. She didn't even stop to say good night to Nefra the way she sometimes did. She hurried toward the first room. Just then the lights snapped off, plunging her into total darkness.

Her knees turned to water. She wanted to crumple to the floor. Not again, please no, not again.

Sure enough, the whispers echoed around her. But this time, near Nefra's coffin, a candle flared to life. The tiny flame was enough to allow her to see the figure standing beside the sarcophagus.

Raising both arms toward Lana, the mummy spoke. “Urbena, my princess. You must come back to me.”

Come back, come back, come back
. The words echoed around the corners of the hollow room.

“I do not wish to live again without you.”

Chapter 18

One last surge of energy spurred Lana and sent her running for the door. It was closed. Locked. Turning her back on the apparition, she pounded frantically.

“Marge — Antef — someone, please! Please open the door!”

Pressing her back to the door, she pointed her flashlight and looked again in the direction of Nefra's coffin. On stiff, bandaged legs the mummy stumbled stiffly toward her. Hands reached for her. Eyes, dark sockets in the gauze-wrapped face stared. Where the mouth dented in slightly, a narrow slit let the mummy speak in a raspy whisper.

“Do not run away, Urbena. I need you. You can break the curse. Return to your coffin. Return to Egypt with me.”

With the hand that held her light, she banged on the door, keeping both eyes glued on the shambling figure. Closer, closer, it moved, reaching for her. Her heart throbbed in her throat, choking her. She gripped the handle of her light. She could use the light for a weapon, but would it do any good to hit this — this thing.

This person. Her senses tried to return.

“Who are you? What do you want?” She forced out the voice from inside her, forced her words to come out without her voice shaking. “Why are you doing this to me?”

The mummy stopped walking toward her.

Lana pounded again on the door behind her. Her light flickered off, leaving her in blackness.

Suddenly the lock clicked and the door swung open. “Lana? How did you get locked in there?” Marge said. “Good thing I was looking for you. You could have ended up in there all night.”

Antef held the key to the inside door. “I turned off the lights, Lana. Sorry. I thought everyone was out.”

“I — I — ” Lana looked into the dark room. Then she stepped back inside and tried the lights. Brightness flooded the room. She ran to Nefra's coffin. He lay still, hands crossed exactly right. He hadn't moved.

“Lana, what happened? You didn't just get locked in there.” Marge was the one who noticed that Lana had been frightened beyond the idea of spending a night in the museum.

Lana took a deep breath. “The mummy — the mummy — ”

“You have seen the mummy move his hands again?” Antef asked.

“Nefra — someone dressed as Nefra was here, walking around, threatening me.” Lana managed to get the words out.

Now Marge stared at Lana. “The mummy came after you?”

“I know it sounds crazy, Marge. It sounds crazy to me. But this is the second time it has happened. This — this thing,” she pointed at Nefra, “followed me home one night.”

Marge stared at Lana. Her face was white, her eyes solemn — for a few seconds. “Like a puppy?” A grin spread slowly across her face.

“I might have known no one would believe me. If you don't, Marge — if — oh, why did I bother telling you?”

“I'm sorry, Lana, I'm sorry. But if you could hear yourself.” Marge looked worried. “I mean, those were the first words that popped into my mind. But this isn't funny. You are believing something impossible.”

Despite her fear, Lana smiled. She heard her words over again herself.
A mummy followed me home
.

She remembered that she had read and loved so many picture books where dinosaurs, elephants, impossible animals followed kids home. And the first thing the kid said was, “Can I keep it?” To her dismay she started to cry.

“I'm taking you home, Lana.” Marge took her arm. “Whatever happened to you, I can see you are still frightened. I'm going to see that you get inside your house in one piece. We can talk about this tomorrow in the daylight.”

Dr. Walters and Blair Vaughn chose that moment to appear in the Egyptian exhibit. “Aren't you closing up, Antef? It's past hours. Lana, you still here? Marge?”

“We were just double-checking everything,” Marge said quickly.

“Go ahead, then. I wanted to show Blair the necklace, and she wants to verify that it wasn't harmed.”

“Someone could have substituted a copy for the real thing.” Blair looked at Lana as if wondering what was going on. “Are you all right, Lana? You look awfully pale.”

“Yes, sure. I'm tired. This has been a long weekend.”

Lana hurried out of the interior room. She didn't want Antef or Marge to blurt out that Lana had seen a mummy walking toward her. She thought Blair had some respect for her, but it wouldn't take much to change that opinion.

“Don't forget the party next weekend,” Dr. Walters called after them. “We have plenty to celebrate now that the collection is intact. And the volunteers have done a great job.”