I glared at the god, but he ignored me and went happily back to his macabre duties. He fashioned a beautiful sarcophagus out of the sand—a polished wooden casket, richly ornate with carvings depicting Amon’s recent battle with Sebak and his army of the undead. I gasped when I noticed a likeness of myself standing with Amon at the top of the pyramid.
“It…it’s lovely,” I said in awe as I reached out to run my hand over it. With my fingertips, I traced a depiction of a girl with sun-streaked hair, wrapping her arms around a man gleaming with the sparkling rays of the sun.
“Do you like it? Sarcophagus art is one of my specialties.” Anubis cleared his throat and I stepped back as Amon’s wrapped form floated toward the coffin and then settled into it. “As I was saying, to create a mummy three things must happen.”
“Preserve the body,” I whispered as I stood to see what Anubis was doing. He was stooped over Amon. He created beautiful jeweled brooches from the sand and then placed them one by one in the sarcophagus next to Amon.
“Very good,” the god of mummification said. “You have been listening.”
“What are those?” I asked.
“Protective amulets. They will ward off those who seek to do evil as Amon’s body sleeps. Even though the current grand vizier is approaching through the tunnels and will be here soon enough to remove the brothers to a hidden location, I feel it is now imperative to take every precaution. I did not think the amulets were necessary before, but the fact that Amon’s body had been removed from the vizier’s care this millennium proves that no safeguard should be ignored. Now—” Anubis lifted his hand to draw up more sand, but nothing appeared. “That is odd,” he murmured.
“What’s wrong?”
“The last piece is the one that goes over the heart. It is in the shape of a scarab.”
“A heart scarab?” I asked.
“Yes.” Anubis peered at me. “Do you know where his is?”
My throat tightened, and instead of answering, I asked a question. “What happens if you don’t have it?”
Anubis scratched his ear. “Nothing, I suppose. The heart scarab only helps the wandering ka find its body, but Amon should not have a problem with that.”
“Good.” I decided then to keep the heart scarab a secret. If there wasn’t anything detrimental about me keeping it, then I wanted it. It was the only piece of Amon I’d have after all this was over.
“There. The body is finished.”
“So what’s the third thing?”
“The third? We haven’t even performed the second.”
“Oh. I thought the amulets were the second thing.”
“No. The second part is invigorating the body by providing sustenance.”
“Won’t food, you know, rot after a few days?”
“Yes, but I did not say I would provide food. The word I used was ‘sustenance.’ ”
I frowned and folded my arms. “I believe I do have some familiarity with the word.”
“Many people misunderstand it,” he said, ignoring my statement. “By sustenance, I mean that I provide energy, enough that the body will be sustained for at least a millennium, and perhaps a bit longer. The strength necessary to maintain Amon’s body when he wakens is contained in his canopic jars.”
“Which is why he needed me when he couldn’t find them.”
“Yes.”
“But won’t sharing your energy drain you?”
“Since I am a god, my stores are vast enough to sustain the three sons of Egypt in the interim without detriment to myself.”
He leaned over Amon’s form and touched his shoulders. I could actually see the energy in the form of light begin at Anubis’s shoulders and roll down his arms and into Amon’s body in waves. When he was finished, he stepped back.
“There. And now the last thing.” He walked to the head of the sarcophagus and impatiently waved his arm, gesturing me over. “Come. You may join me in this final act.”
“What do I do?” I whispered.
“We must recite a spell from the Book of the Dead and commemorate his name as we do so. In naming him, we connect his body, his ka, or soul, his ba, which is his character, and his shuwt, or shadow. The name is the fifth piece that binds the other four together.”
Wardens of the sky, the earth, and beyond,
The sacred barque has begun its journey,
Taking with it this cherished son of Egypt.
His name was given by the great god Amun-Ra.
It will be reclaimed. It will be recovered.
Bestow a wreath of vindication upon his neck,
For he has overcome his earthly travails.
Give his soul peace, and when the time comes,
Let him find his way back to his body.
The Eye of Horus will be his guide.
We are they who remember his name after death.
We are they who carved his name on this sarcophagus.
We are they who engraved his name upon our hearts.
He is, AMON, henceforth and forever.
We call his power, his soul, his body, and his shadow, and give this name to each.
May this body be protected,
So that he can rise in glory once more.
Go forth now, Amon, to a place of rest,
Until such time as we shall meet again.
When his spell was complete, Anubis raised his hands, palms up, and a swirling cloud of sand solidified until it fashioned into an ornately carved lid. It lowered with a definitive thump, settling in place, and I felt as if my heart was locked in the sarcophagus with Amon.
A grave heaviness settled over me and I couldn’t breathe. I was suffocating. I placed a trembling hand on the polished wooden face as darkness crept in at the edges of my vision and the last thing I remembered was collapsing.
When I regained my senses, the heat of the pyramids was gone. I found myself surrounded by Egyptian relics, but something was different. I placed my hand on a cold white tile floor and pushed myself up to a sitting position.
A noise nearby made me turn. In the shadows stood a large, handsome man leaning against the wall, a statue of a pointy-eared dog sat at his heels.
“Anubis?” I gasped. He was dressed like a businessman in a suit and tie.
He stepped forward. “I will leave you where you first discovered Amon. Goodbye, Lilliana.”
With a wink, Anubis and the dog statue disappeared. “Wait!” I called, but there was no answer.
Scrambling to my feet, I noted irritably that I was once again wearing my designer shirt, cropped trousers, and Italian leather sandals. My bag, notebook peeking out, was propped against a wall, and the college brochures were arranged in an efficient semicircle. “Amon?” I cried, and dashed toward the sealed-off section in the Egyptian exhibit.
Beyond the plastic I found the same copper mirror, the same tools, the same boxes and sawdust, but there were no telltale footprints. No sarcophagus. No large box with a sign that said UNKNOWN MUMMY FROM THE VALLEY OF THE KINGS. Amon was gone. It was as if he had never been a part of my life. Never existed.
A golden gleam caught my eye and, hopeful, I made my way over to it, only to find the golden statue of a falcon—Horus the Gold. I pressed my hands against the glass, tears sliding down my face. I tricked my mind for a brief, indulgent moment into thinking he was here, with me. But he wasn’t. Amon was gone.
Sucking in a shaky breath, I wiped my face and, bag in hand, exited the exhibit. Numbly, I walked toward the museum entrance and was surprised when a hand touched my arm. “Miss Lilliana? Are you all right?”
I let out a shaky breath and attempted to smile, though I wasn’t sure my lips were able to form much more than a grimace. “Hi, Tony,” I said. “I’m fine. It’s just been a really, really long day.”
“Ah, then have a good evening, Miss Young.”
“I will. Oh, and, Tony?” He turned. “Please call me Lily.”
He gave me a warm smile. “Of course, Miss Lily.”
&n
bsp; As I exited the museum, the scents, sights, and sounds of New York City overwhelmed me. They were familiar but no longer what I loved.
How could I forget the sand-swept vistas, the desert oases, the ancient pyramids, and the mummies brought to life, and go back to the life I knew before? I was utterly changed from my time with Amon. It wasn’t right that we had to be separated. I couldn’t even put flowers on his grave.
Still, I was grateful to know that he existed somewhere and would continue to exist long after I was gone. I took some comfort in his promise to watch over me wherever he was, and deep in my heart I knew he would always be with me.
Amon had said that a bond like ours meant we might see each other in our dreams. I knew that killing him was supposed to have broken our bond and yet he didn’t feel so very far away. Closing my eyes, I lifted my face to the sun and felt its warmth on my skin, imagining it was Amon caressing my cheek. The heat traveled down my shoulders and torso before it focused on my heart.
It burned, and I smiled as I felt my heart beating. Then I looked down, puzzled as I felt something shift in my shirt pocket. I reached inside to find Amon’s heart scarab. It wasn’t my heartbeat after all. It was the stone drumming a slow rhythm, its soothing beat warm and alive in my palm. Though the odds seemed insurmountable, Amon’s heart was a small miracle that gave me hope.
With a small secret smile, I folded my fingertips over the heart scarab and raised my other hand to hail a cab.
“Bring him forth,” the goddess Ma’at proclaimed.
“I do not understand why this is necessary. It never has been before,” the young man protested.
“What is going on here?” Anubis asked as he entered.
“This young man must place his heart on the scales of justice,” the goddess explained patiently.
Anubis ran a hand through his hair, relieved to have changed out of his modern-day clothing. “But he is not really dead. His judgment is suspended until he is released from his duty.”
“In this case, he must be evaluated. He bound himself to a mortal and was slain by a mortal. If the death of their union is to be final, then there must be an assessment.”
“But his death is not final.”
“That is immaterial. All things must be balanced.” She indicated the golden scales set before her. “His heart must be weighed to determine if his actions on Earth are worthy.”
“They were,” Anubis vouched.
Ma’at chastised, “Above all things we are charged with following the laws of the cosmos.”
Anubis grunted. “Fine. Then get it over with.”
The beautiful goddess took an ostrich feather from her headdress and placed it on the scale closest to her, then smiled benevolently at the young man standing by Anubis. The gods stared expectantly as he stood quietly, head lowered, and fists clenched.
After a silent moment passed, Ma’at spoke. “You are aware of what you must do, are you not? Anubis, perhaps you had better explain things.”
The young man answered with a determined gleam in his eyes. “I know what I must do.”
“Then you may proceed,” the goddess denoted, with a small gesture toward the scales.
And with a secretive gleam in his eye, the young man flicked his wrist and disappeared.
As I do in all my books, I first have to thank my always-willing-to-eat-sandwiches husband, Brad, who is my tireless supporter in everything I do, and my mom, who moved in with us as I was writing this book. She’s both a constant help and a constant distraction, which keeps my life constantly interesting.
I also would like to express my deep appreciation for my sisters, Shara, Tonnie, and Linda, and my sis-in-law, Suki, whom I jokingly label Assistant #1, Assistant #2, etc. They cart around bags, books, laptops, posters, luggage, and ever-increasing amounts of stuff that I need at events and conferences. They smile while taking pictures, arranging my hair, powdering my nose, ordering me to drink water, and entertaining my fans while I take bathroom breaks. They’re always excited about my work and full of advice that I only listen to half the time even though it’s always good.
I’m also thankful for my brothers, Mel, Andrew, and Jared, who all actually attended book signing events this year and managed not to roll their eyes as I talked about kissing. Whenever I need to write about what makes a good guy, I never have to think too hard.
My early-reading group is mostly made up of my siblings, but it also includes a few very special people: Linda, who has championed my books since the beginning; her husband, Neal, who creates all my fun posters, stickers, and promo stuff; and Fred, a good friend who checked up on all my Egypt references and his wife, Liz, who reads him all my chapters since he doesn’t really like to read. Imagine!
My agent, Alex Glass, has always been willing to yoke himself to the same wagon and help me pull it along. His insight is immeasurable. The team at Trident Media Group work with him seamlessly, and I wish I could name them all but I fear I would leave several of them out. Suffice it to say they are all amazing and a credit to their profession.
This time I have a new publishing team to express gratitude to, and that includes Tamar Schwartz, Angela Carlino, Heather Lockwood Hughes, and especially Beverly Horowitz and Krista Vitola, who were both willing to take a chance on me and welcomed me and my mummies with open arms into the Delacorte Press family. I’m so blessed to have such a supportive team at my back.
To my fans: I don’t even have words. You guys are all so dedicated to me and my tigers, and even though you’ve had to wait for the last tiger book, you have all generously made room in your hearts for my mummies. I appreciate you all so much!
Lastly, I wanted to thank my dad. He passed away while I was writing this book; it is the first novel I’ve finished that he didn’t get to read. It’s been a hard road without him, but I know that he would be immensely proud of it and would brag about it to everyone he knew while pressing freshly published copies into their hands if he could. He was a great man who is sorely missed by all who knew him.
Colleen Houck is the four-time New York Times bestselling author of the Tiger’s Curse series, which has appeared on the USA Today, Publishers Weekly, and Walmart bestseller lists, among many others. She has been a Parents’ Choice Award winner and has been reviewed and featured on MTV.com and in the Los Angeles Times, USA Today, Girls’ Life magazine, and Romantic Times, which called Tiger’s Curse “one of the best books I have ever read.” Colleen lives in Salem, Oregon, with her husband and a huge assortment of plush tigers.
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