Theodosia and the Staff of Osiris-Theo 2 (17 page)

Unease worked it's way down my spine. "What do you mean?"

"It won't take Chaos long—if they are indeed the ones in possession—to figure out that the staff isn't working, and what do you think they will do when they discover the orb is what's needed to make it work? They will come looking for it, my dear. And if you don't have it to give to them, it could go very badly for you."

"But I thought we didn't want the orb to fall into their hands?"

"True. But if I have to choose between the orb and you, I prefer to keep you safe. You're already mixed up in things that are far too dangerous for a girl of your age. The least I can do is try to ensure your safety. No, you must keep it for now. Furthermore, if they come after it, you must give it to them, Theo. Your safety is more important than keeping the orb out of their hands."

"Yes, sir," I said as I slowly returned the orb to my pocket.

"How did you get here?" he asked.

"I took a cab. But I'm rather out of funds now."

He grabbed his cane and rose to his feet. "That doesn't matter. I want you to be escorted back to the museum by one of my men. It will be safer that way."

I followed him out of his office and waited while he arranged for transportation. He assured me that they would continue their research and he urged me to continue mine. We agreed to keep in touch through Will.

When I went downstairs, Will was waiting to escort me to the carriage that Wigmere had ordered to take me home. Right then seemed as good a time as any to find out what was going on with him. Once we were out of the building and free from being overheard, I spoke up. "So, exactly what kind of trouble are you in?"

"Wot're you talkin' about, miss?"

"That tall, greasy-looking fellow with the hooked nose and undertaker's coat," I whispered fiercely. "I've seen him hanging around the museum. Inspector Turnbull called him the Grim Nipper. Is he following you?"

Even in the dim light, I could see Will's face grow sickly pale. "Shhh! Don't say that name out loud! Not if'n ye want to keep yer skin."

"Then tell me why he's following you! Every time you come to the museum, he's hot on your tail. Is he part of your old life? An old professional acquaintance?"

"No one's following me, miss," he said, his face set in stubborn lines. "Here's yer carriage, now."

"Well, you be careful," I said in a low voice. "And don't do anything to give Wigmere cause to mistrust you. He wouldn't be happy you were mingling with someone like the Grim Nipper."

"Course I won't. Off wi' you, now."

I hesitated, wondering if I should press him further, but the horses were stomping in impatience. The driver looked down. "Is there a problem?"

"No. No problem," Will called back.

With a last warning look at Will, I climbed in. The driver clicked his tongue and slapped the reins.

As I settled back onto the seat, I had to admit I felt much better now that I'd told Wigmere everything. The entire Brotherhood of the Chosen Keepers would be on it. Surely it would be only a matter of time before they found a way to outmaneuver the Serpents of Chaos.

But I was a little disturbed at Wigmere's worries for my safety. Earlier I had only thought of keeping the magic of the staff from the Serpents of Chaos. Now the orb was an ominous weight against my leg. I pushed that unpleasant thought aside and pondered what else Wigmere had told me.

To think that the Egyptian gods may have once upon a time walked the earth! And that they'd left such powerful artifacts behind. Artifacts that had power over death. But, I reminded myself, that was the nature of myths. They grew larger and grander over time.

Although the staff
did
seem to prove that there was some kernel of truth in them.

It was quite dark now. My stomach growled. What time was it, anyway? Could I talk the driver into stopping for something to eat on the way back to the museum? Then I remembered my lack of funds. Bother. Looked like jam sandwiches
again.

There was a loud rattle of carriage wheels coming up behind us, the thundering of hooves growing louder and
louder. The driver steered our carriage over toward the side to make room. However, instead of passing, the other vehicle drew up even with us. I heard a shout, and then two loud thuds overhead caused our carriage to dip wildly and lurch to the side. The driver cried out and then fell silent, but the carriage kept going.

With Wigmere's warnings echoing in my head, I scooted over to the window, pulled the curtain aside to see what was going on, and found myself face to chest with a black-cloaked form. Before I could so much as squeak, the large, threatening figure yanked the door open and swung himself in, landing on the seat across from me.

Heart pounding, I scrambled back into the far corner.

The intruder shut the door behind him, then turned to face me.

In the dim light of the carriage lamps, I could just make out that one side of his face was horribly scarred.

"Hullo, Theodosia." The familiar voice raised chills along my arms. "Fancy meeting you here."

I forced myself to meet the man's gaze. The skin of his left eye was pitted and red, the eye itself a useless milky white.

But even with all those scars, I would have recognized Nigel Bollingsworth anywhere.

T
HE LAST TIME
I'
D SEEN
our ex–First Assistant Curator was right after I'd beaned him on the head and he'd collapsed in an annex of Thutmose III's tomb. To say I wasn't expecting to see him in London was an extreme understatement.

"What? Cat got your tongue?" Bollingsworth asked. "Hard to imagine you at a loss for words." He tilted his face into the carriage light. "What do you think of your handiwork, Theo? Would you call it an improvement?"

Refusing to cower, I lifted my chin. "Is that why you've paid me a visit?" My voice sounded far too high and wobbly. "To show me your scars?"

He reached up and ran his fingers over his ruined face.
"No, Theo. I'm here because once again you've been far too clever for your own good."

"What do you mean?"

His hulking form swallowed up all the space in the carriage. "Where is the Orb of Ra?"

"I-I don't know what you're talking about. What's an Orb of Ra?"

"You little fool! You are in no position to play games with me." Long gone was the friendly First Assistant Curator who used to be kind to me. "We knew you had it, along with the staff—otherwise all the mummies in London wouldn't have shown up on your doorstep."

"Wh-what makes you say that?"

"We have known of the staff for some time now. It is one of the many artifacts of power we've been searching for. All we were lacking was it's exact location, which you so helpfully discovered for us. Now, give me that orb."

"It was you who stole it!" Of course! It all made sense now. Who better to know his way around our museum than the ex–First Assistant Curator?

"We want the Orb of Ra, Theo. The staff is useless without it."

"Was it you who mummified Tetley?"

A shadow of something—regret?—crossed his face. "No,
it wasn't me. And you're stalling. I am more than happy to force you to reveal the orb's whereabouts." He caressed his scarred cheek again. "They say that revenge is a dish best served cold. Would you agree?"

I gulped, trying to think of a way to gain more time. "It's back at the museum. If you take me there, I'll show you where it is."

"You're lying," he said.

How on earth had he known I was lying? I'm actually a rather good liar, when I need to be.

Bollingsworth leaned forward, his nose inches from mine. "Now, where is that orb?"

His voice rose on the word
orb,
and it was clear he was running out of patience. Just then, the carriage took a turn much too fast and pitched us both up against the wall. There was a
thunk
as my pocket made contact with the door.

Bollingsworth gave a chilling smile. Faster than a snake, his arm darted forward and grabbed a handful of my frock. He pulled me away from the door toward him. I struggled, but there was nowhere to go and he was much stronger than I.

He thrust his hand into my pocket and pulled out the orb, letting go of me as soon as he had it. I tumbled back against the seat feeling sick and filthy, as if his touch had corrupted me in some way.

He held the orb up in the carriage light. "Beautiful," he whispered. "You're so good at finding things we need, Theo." He glanced at me, our eyes meeting. "It's a pity that won't save you." He shoved the orb into one of his pockets but made no move to leave the carriage.

"Y-you have the orb. Why don't you go now?" I said, rather desperate for him to be on his way.

"Ah, but you and I have some unfinished business, do we not?" His eyes glittered at the promise of vengeance.

"No, no. I think we're quite finished," I said, hoping my voice didn't quiver too much.

"I owe you, Theo," he whispered. "Even the Bible says so. An eye for an eye, is it not?" His hand crept inside his cloak.

Deciding I'd rather take my chances on a tumble from the carriage than with Bollingsworth, I felt along the carriage wall behind me, groping for the handle. Call it a hunch, but my chances of survival seemed much better outside the carriage than inside.

The carriage swerved again, and I tumbled away from the door.

The sound of another carriage reached us, and Bollingsworth peeked out the back window.
Please let it be the Chosen Keepers,
I thought.
Please, oh please.
Stokes. Bramfield. Thornleigh. Any one of them would be sorely welcome now.

Our carriage was racing along recklessly and it was all Bollingsworth and I could do to hang on. Then there were three loud thuds, and once again the vehicle dipped and swayed dangerously as new bodies climbed aboard. Bollingsworth drew a long, sharp knife from the folds of his cape. He wouldn't have done that if he were expecting his fellow Serpents of Chaos. That could only be a good sign. Or so I hoped.

The door of the carriage jerked open. A man in a hood and cape stood balanced on the running board, blocking my view of the streets outside rushing by. He took one glance at Bollingsworth and the knife, then reached in, wrapped his arm around my waist, and pulled me from the careening carriage.

The last thing I saw was the opposite door bursting open and another cloaked figure hurling himself into the carriage, ramming into Bollingsworth and knocking him back against the seat.

Then I was dangling from the stranger's arm, my heart pounding wildly as the cobbled streets churned below in a dizzying rush. While I was most glad to get away from Bollingsworth, I had no desire to be crushed beneath racing hooves or carriage wheels. But the fellow had the grace and balance of a cat. He kept a firm grip on me while the second
carriage drew closer, another man braced against the doorway.

Before I could so much as say, "I think not!" I was lugged like a bag of potatoes from one man to the next. The second man caught me with a slight
oomph,
and then we both tumbled back into the carriage.

I lay on the floor for a moment, trying to catch my breath and hoping I wouldn't be sick. Our carriage turned down a side street, leaving Bollingsworth and the other man racing off into the night.

I was torn between thanking the stranger who'd caught me and asking him what in the world he'd been thinking. Although I most fervently appreciated being rescued, I wasn't overly fond of the method. Surely the Chosen Keepers could have rescued me in a little less terrifying manner? I would have to speak with Wigmere about this.

The man who'd caught me reached up and removed his hood. "Hello, Theo. Sorry it took us so long to get to you."

I gasped. It wasn't one of the Chosen Keepers I'd been expecting.

It was Edgar Stilton!

"S
TILTON
!"

"Yes. Sorry about the hood and all."

I was truly and utterly speechless. "But how ... why...?"

"Here, why don't you climb up off the floor and get comfortable. We'll be there in just a few moments and we will explain everything to you then."

"We? Who's 'we'?" I pushed myself up off the carriage floor and perched on the edge of the seat opposite Stilton. "And where's 'there'?"

"You'll see. I'm not allowed to explain it to you."

Well, surely if Wigmere had sent him, he could have told me, so that ruled out the chance that he worked for the Brotherhood. I'd so been hoping they had been the ones to rescue me. Well, I was assuming it was a rescue. "Thank you for coming to my aid back there."

"Glad to do it, Miss Theo. We wouldn't want anything to happen to you."

We? Really, who was this "we" bit? "Did you, um, recognize the fellow in the carriage?"

Stilton frowned. "I'm afraid I didn't get a good look at him. Is he someone I'd know?"

I had no idea if I should tell him it had been Bollingsworth or not. How much did he know of Chaos, if he knew anything at all? "Not necessarily. I just thought, since you were rescuing me and all, you might have had an idea as to who you were rescuing me from."

"No," he said. "Just keeping you safe." And that was all I could get out of him until the carriage turned up Tottingham Court Road. Was he taking me back to the museum? Why hadn't he just said so?

However, the carriage trotted on by the museum, and with a sinking heart, I realized we weren't going there after all.

"I'm afraid I have to blindfold you," Stilton said apologetically. "Orders from higher up."

"Blindfold me? Why ever for?"

"The location of our temple is highly secret."

Temple? I didn't know of any temples in this neighborhood. Even so, surely I was better off with Stilton than with Bollingsworth. But when Stilton pulled a long strip of black cloth from his pocket and held it out to me, all my reassurances flew right out the window. "Turn around, please."

"Really. I won't breathe a word—"

"It's not my decision, Theo—otherwise I would never insist."