Theodosia and the Last Pharaoh (The Theodosia Series)

by R. L. LaFevers

  "Either way, we don't want to lose track of you. Here, let me show you." He led me to a cluttered worktable that was full of springs and cogs and small chisels and screwdrivers the size of sewing needles. He brushed aside some brass shavings and tiny silver screws. "Here we go," he said triumphantly.

  "A watch?" I inquired politely, although in truth, it was the largest, strangest, ugliest watch I'd ever seen. It was more than two inches thick and about three inches in diameter. A half dozen knobs protruded from its case. Honestly, it was about the size of a small wind-up clock.

  "No, no. Not a watch. It is a Quillings's Homing Beacon and Curse-Repelling Device." He lifted his eyes from the contraption and gave me a worried look. "I took the liberty of naming it after myself. I don't think anyone will mind, do you?"

  "I shouldn't think so. How exactly does it work?" I asked, eyeing the contraption with newfound admiration.

  "Using alpha particles," Quillings proudly announced. "We have discovered that dark magic and curses give off something called alpha particles, a mild form of radiation, which is why being around them for too long can be so corrosive. I've only just this year invented something that allows us to use that phenomenon to our advantage. If you must work around a particularly vile curse, turn this knob here and it sends out a small electromagnetic pulse that repels the corrosive heka and allows you to escape unscathed. However, if you turn the knob this way, it acts as a homing beacon. The pattern of the alpha particles allows us to locate you with this." He held up a huge piece of photographic equipment.

  "Is that a camera?"

  "Not quite, but it works on the same principle. The alpha particles create a pattern on the thin film of gold inside, allowing us to track your movements that way. Wigmere wants us to keep a close eye on you."

  "I daresay it can't hurt," I agreed. I took the clunky watch and strapped it to my wrist. Hoping Quillings wouldn't be offended, I tugged my sleeve down to cover it up. I looked up to find him watching me. "So my mother won't ask inconvenient questions," I explained.

  His face cleared. "Ah, of course. And I see you wear gloves."

  "Always," I said. "I try to minimize my contact with curses." One can never be too careful—black magic and curses have the most annoying habit of trying to work their way into one's skin.

  "You might be interested in these, then." He led me over to a table against the back wall that held a small mountain of gloves. "As I said, I was very interested in the work you'd been doing with wax, and I've been conducting a few experiments. These gloves are made especially with wax-coated thread—"

  I gasped. "Brilliant!"

  His old cheeks pinkened. "Why, thank you. I thought it was worth a try. It works wondrously well—absorbs the curse right off an object so you can touch it if need be. The only drawback is that the gloves are a little sticky. Here. Let's find you a pair." We spent a few moments sorting through them till we found a white pair that were almost small enough for me. As I tucked them into my pocket, he motioned for me to follow him to yet another workstation in the middle of the room.

  "Wigmere wanted you to have some offensive weapons at your disposal as well."

  "Offensive weapons?" I repeated, not sure I'd heard correctly.

  "Yes. Like this one." He picked up a gold fountain pen. "This contains a curse, a rather nasty one. It causes the recipient to suffer the agonies of a hundred scorpion stings over and over again. If you are backed into a corner, you twist it here, like so, and the inside capsule snaps apart and releases the curse. You'll need to point it at whatever you wish to use it on, then get away quickly, before it has a chance to zero in on you instead."

  I stared at the pen, both fascinated and repelled. "How cunning."

  "Here, take it."

  With great reluctance, I reached out and gingerly took the pen.

  "And lastly, this," he said, producing a fetching little silver compact, just like the one Mother uses when she powders her nose.

  "Oh, it's lovely!" I said. "But I'm afraid I'm too young to wear powder."

  Quillings chuckled. "Oh, trust me. You wouldn't want to wear this powder. This is made from ground-up sandstone collected from inside a pharaoh's tomb—"

  "Which has magical properties!"

  "Yes! You know of it?" He looked duly impressed.

  "I do. In fact, I used it once when I was cornered by a very nasty man."

  "Well then, I shall hardly have to tell you how it works. Here you go."

  I stared at the compact, remembering Bollingsworth's ruined face. Slowly, I shook my head. "I don't think I should, sir."

  "Why ever not?"

  "It seems wrong, somehow."

  "But you just said you'd used it before."

  "Yes, but I'd been backed into a corner and outnumbered and there was nothing else at hand. It was a choice of last resort."

  The professor looked at me oddly, almost as if he was a little disappointed in me. "I was given to understand you had used Egyptian magic quite comfortably."

  "I don't know that comfortable is ever the right word to use regarding Egyptian magic." I eyed the pen in my hand. "I have, on occasion, been forced to use magic to ensure my own safety. But it was only making do with what was at hand. Carrying it around with me and planning to use it seems very different. Especially with such vile curses as these. Besides," I said, putting the pen back onto the table, "I don't expect I'll need it. I've only to hand off two artifacts when I first arrive in Luxor, and then the rest of my time will be spent working on my mother's dig."

  Quillings looked at the pen and compact on the table, then took a step closer to me so that I was forced to tilt my head up to meet his gaze. "Do you really think it will be that easy?" he asked. "With Chaos causing riots in the streets—"

  "Chaos is behind that?"

  "We believe so. Someone is certainly behind it and Chaos is the most likely. You must understand, Miss Throckmorton. Things are different here on the frontlines of the fight against Chaos. The London operation that Wigmere runs is more of a last line of defense. It is designed to catch whatever slips through our grasp. But here in the field, we take a much more active approach when we come face-to-face with evil."

  His words sent a chill down my back.

  "Now, take these." He took the pen and compact from the table and put them firmly in my hand. "And do not be afraid to use them. Remember, it is not only your life you are protecting, Miss Throckmorton, but the lives of countless innocents who do not even suspect that such hideous magic exists or what it would do if unleashed in their midst."

  Reluctantly, my fingers closed around the items, and then I quickly dropped them into my pocket, as if they were hot. I was suddenly desperate to be away from Quillings and his sinister laboratory. "Is that all, sir? I should probably get back to my mother. She didn't have that much to discuss with Monsieur Maspero."

  Quillings looked at me steadily, as if he knew perfectly well why I wanted to leave. "Of course. But do remember one thing. It's different here, where we live side by side with the ancient mysteries." Then he bade me goodbye and wished me Godspeed.

  Slowly, with my head whirling, I made my way back to the public part of the museum. I couldn't make up my mind about Quillings and his thoughts on how to combat Chaos. It seemed too much like the methods Chaos themselves used.

  I did envy him his laboratory, however. Just think of how many curses I could remove with all of that equipment!

  I'd reached the door that led back to the storage closet and cautiously poked my head through. Bing wasn't waiting for me in the closet, so I stepped out into the hall.

  An unfamiliar gentleman loitered in the corridor. As soon as he saw me, he hurried over. "Bing sent me," he explained. "He has been detained by Maspero and asked that I escort you back to your mother."

  "And who did you say you were?" I asked, giving him a nudge to use the code phrase.

  There was a flash of annoyance in the other man's face, just a second-too-long pause before he answered
. "I am Carruthers."

  That was it. Simply "Carruthers." No mention that he had come from the West. Slowly, I began to back away from him.

  The stranger lowered his brow in a scowl and took a step toward me just as Bing himself came round the corner. "Oh, are you done, then? I was just coming to fetch you."

  The stranger, realizing the gig was up, leaped forward, grabbed for my arm with one hand, and fumbled at his jacket with the other.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Come Into My Parlor, Said the Spider to the Fly

  I DIDN'T STICK AROUND LONG ENOUGH to see what he was reaching for. I grasped the cords of my reticule, then swung it down—hard—against his knuckles. He gave a shout of surprise and relaxed his grip. I jerked away and darted down the nearest hall. "Be careful!" I called to Bing. "I think he's got a weapon!" Then I clamped my mouth shut and took the next corner at full tilt.

  The exhibits, I thought. I needed to get to the exhibits where there'd be loads of people. He'd have a hard time snatching me if others were watching. I ran as silently as I could, which was hard in the echoing marble halls of the museum. I stayed up on my toes as much as possible, which helped keep my footsteps quieter but made my calves scream in agony. I turned a corner, then another, and the shouts of the men faded behind me.

  I took another turn and found myself in a gallery, which meant I must have crossed the full length of the museum. Pursuing footsteps sounded behind me. Not waiting to see who it was, I tore down the stairs to the ground floor, afraid a huge, hairy hand would reach out from behind and snatch me at any moment.

  At the bottom of the stairs, I darted into a room full of magnificent jewelry (New Kingdom, seventeenth century BC). Unfortunately, the room was empty, so there were no witnesses among whom I could lose myself. However, the display cases were enormous, so I threw myself behind the nearest one and tried to breathe as softly as I could, even though my lungs were begging for air.

  There was the squeak of shoe leather on the polished floor and I felt the pursuer's ka, or life force, hovering in the doorway. I quickly cast my eyes downward so he wouldn't feel me looking back at him and held my breath.

  After a long moment, the footsteps moved on down the hallway. Allowing myself to breathe a little more deeply, I waited another five minutes to be certain he wouldn't double back. Finally, with great reluctance, I crept out of my hiding place and inched toward the doorway, careful to keep close to the wall and out of sight. When I slowly stuck my neck out to check the hallway, I nearly screamed as I came eyeball to eyeball with a pair of rapidly blinking eyes.

  "Mr. Bing!" I gasped in relief, putting my hand up to keep my heart from thudding right out of my chest.

  "This way, miss," he said, keeping his voice low. "Let's get you back to Maspero's office."

  "What happened to Carruthers?" I asked, falling into step alongside him.

  "He made his way to the front exit and got out that way. I sent one of the guards after him, but he had a decent head start, so I'm not hopeful."

  "How did he get in, do you think?"

  Bing shrugged. "He'd just have to pay admission like everyone else."

  When at last we reached Maspero's office, Bing rapped quickly on the door. "Come in," a muffled voice called out.

  Bing opened the door and stepped aside so I could go in. "I'll go see if the guard had any luck," he whispered, then closed the door behind him.

  "There you are, darling," Mother said. "Do come in and meet Mr. Borscht."

  My head snapped up. Borscht? I thought she was to meet with Monsieur Maspero. "How do you do, sir," I said as I bobbed a small curtsy.

  "Very pleased to meet you, young lady."

  Mr. Borscht did not have a lick of hair on his head, and his shaved scalp gleamed faintly in the light coming from the window. It was an odd look, especially when coupled with the dark black mustache that covered the lower half of his face. Behind his gold-rimmed glasses, his eyes were an arctic blue.

  "Come sit down, dear. We're almost done."

  I wanted to ask Mother what had happened to Monsieur Maspero, but that seemed rude to do in front of Mr. Borscht. Hoping I didn't look too disheveled after my gallop through the museum, I took the seat next to her, my heart still beating rapidly. There was a small tray with empty plates. They'd had tea, I realized, then remembered I'd not gotten the refreshment Mr. Bing had promised me. Looking at the empty plates only made my stomach feel emptier, so I turned my attention to Mr. Borscht.

  He was staring at me hungrily. Something about that gaze sent a chill of warning down my spine. Unsettled, I quickly cast my eyes downward.

  His hands were encased in black gloves, and his right hand toyed with a letter opener while his other hand...

  His other hand lay perfectly still. In fact, he held it at a rather odd angle, as if it was useless to him.

  A leaden ball of dread began to form in my stomach. I could think of only one man I knew who was missing a hand—an injury I had caused, more or less. Fear mounting, I lifted my gaze back up to his face.

  As our eyes met, he smiled. It was not a nice smile. In fact, it made my heart stutter in my chest.

  This was not Mr. Borscht, whoever that might be. This was Count von Braggenschnott, one of the most powerful Serpents of Chaos I had ever met, sitting in front of me as pretty as you please.

  And he had been chatting with my mother for nearly an hour.

  I was afraid I might be sick.

  Trying to be casual, I glanced over my shoulder toward the door, wondering where Bing had gotten to.

  "Theodosia? Mr. Borscht is speaking to you." Mother's chiding voice poked through my rising panic.

  "Forgive me." I slowly turned back around, my mind scrambling frantically. How could we make our escape? Dare I risk exposing him? Would Mother even believe me?

  I doubted it. I gripped my reticule cords more firmly.

  "I asked if you were enjoying your trip to Egypt?" von Braggenschnott repeated.

  "Er, for the most part." I was embarrassed at the faint tremble in my voice. Refusing to be cowed, I straightened my shoulders and met his chilling blue stare. "I have found there are more vermin in the city than I care for, but other than that, I am finding it most educational." There, that would show him I wasn't afraid.

  "Vermin?" Mother sounded puzzled. "Whatever are you talking about, dear? We've only been here a matter of hours, and I have seen nothing that remotely qualifies as vermin."

  That is because grownups never see the really important stuff. They are too distracted by the ordinary and mundane.

  Von Braggenschnott laughed, cutting off any answer I might have given. "Children. They have such flights of fancy, do they not?"

  Mother rolled her eyes delicately. "Don't they, though?"

  The humiliation of having Mother and the head of the Serpents of Chaos dismiss me as a mere child was as sharp and painful as a knife.

  "And I shall not subject you to Theo's any longer," she continued. "You have been most kind, Mr. Borscht. My husband and I, and the museum, cannot thank you enough for your help."

  "It has been my pleasure, madame." He rose and bowed from the waist, his eyes taking on an appreciative gleam as he looked at Mother. That's when I had my second shock of the day. He was sweet on Mother!

  While they continued with a few last-minute niceties, I tried to come up with a plan for escape. Finally Mother bade him goodbye and turned toward the door. I held my breath and followed.

  It was only a short distance, but it felt as if time held still while we crossed it. I kept waiting for von Braggenschnott to call us back or stop us, but he didn't and we reached the door without incident. Was he really going to let us walk out?

  Just as Mother put her hand on the knob, he spoke. "And Madame Throckmorton?"

  "Yes," she said, turning to look back at him.

  "Congratulations on such an intriguing daughter. I hope her visit continues to be educational. I believe the more education children receive, the better."<
br />
  Mother smiled, inclined her head, then opened the door and swept out. I followed in her wake, nearly tripping in my eagerness to escape that small office.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Where to Now, Donkey Boy?

  ONCE THE DOOR CLOSED FIRMLY BEHIND US, my heart slowed down from a flat-out race to a mere gallop.

  Von Braggenschnott had let us go. He had let me go. Why?

  There could be only one reason, really. He wanted something I had. Or he was hoping I'd lead him and his men to something they wanted.

  All right, that was two reasons. My math skills aren't at their sharpest when I'm under duress.

  Bing was waiting for us, calmly as you please, as if he hadn't been chasing assailants throughout the museum just moments before. I studied him, wondering if he had any idea who was in the office. "Mr. Bing?"

  "Yes, Miss Theodosia?"

  "Have you talked with Monsieur Maspero today?"

  Mr. Bing frowned. "Not since this morning, when he sent me to fetch you two from the hotel." I could tell by the puzzled look on his face that he did not understand the reason for my question.

  Either that or he was a very good actor. Mother, however, was giving me one of her looks, so I didn't dare risk any more questions. Even so, as we made our way to the exit, I studied Bing surreptitiously. No matter how I tilted my head and squinted at him, his thin, gangly form and scrubbed face did not look sinister in any way.

  "Theodosia?" Mother's voice was sharp. "Are you quite all right?"

  I swiveled my eyes over to Mother, who stared at me with her hands on her hips. "Just working out a kink in my neck. From looking at the exhibits. Some of those statues are quite tall, you know."

  Mother sighed, shook her head, and sent an apologetic smile in Bing's direction.

  He smiled back. "If you're ready to return to the hotel, I'll take you now."

  "Thank you. That would be lovely," Mother said.

  As we stepped outside the museum, I tried to think of a way to alert Mr. Bing to von Braggenschnott's presence without alarming Mother. I was so distracted by the challenge that I didn't even notice the crowd until I bumped up against a woman swathed in black from head to toe. That's when I noticed that the demonstration seemed to have spread from the train station to the streets near the museum. Quillings's words echoed through my head. Chaos causing riots in the streets.