by Cate Dean
The Pharaoh’s Eye
A Kit Martin Prequel
Cate Dean
Copyright, 2020
All Rights Reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission of the author, except for use in any review. This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, locales, and events are either pure invention or used fictitiously, and all incidents come from the author’s imagination alone.
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Table of Contents
Copyright Page
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Excerpt from The Witch’s Cup
About The Author
One
“Are we there yet, Mum?” Kit Martin closed the mystery he had been reading, already bored, since he had solved it one third of the way in. He bounced in his seat next to the window, anxious to finally get off the train, to be in Holmestead.
“Almost, sweetheart.” Maggie Martin smiled at him before turning back to her mobile. She had spent the entire journey scouting for local estate sales. Boring.
Kit planned to spend most of his time at Uncle Spence’s museum, digging in the old storage rooms for treasures. Their last visit had been too short, with Dad’s leg acting up, and Kit hadn’t even seen the museum.
This time, he and Mum had come alone, since Dad was busy with his classes. Kit knew it was hard for Dad to travel during cold weather, and still felt bad about cutting their earlier visit off before it had gotten started.
Kit may have been twelve, but he understood how much Dad’s limitations frustrated him, and never complained when they interfered. Well—almost never.
His heart skipped when the white cliffs appeared.
“Mum, the castle is coming up.” He tugged at her sleeve. “Mum—you never miss the castle.”
“What?” She lifted her head, obviously distracted by whatever she was reading. “Oh—we’re closer than I thought.” She tucked her phone in the pocket of her bright blue coat and leaned in. “There it is, Kit.”
They both pressed up against the window as the huge castle complex appeared, almost by magic. The train roared past, and the castle disappeared. With a happy sigh, Kit leaned back in his seat.
“I love it here, Mum.”
“So do I, sweetheart. I miss living here.”
“You do?” He straightened, studying her face. A sadness he’d never seen before darkened her blue eyes. “Why did we leave?”
“For reasons you have to ask your father to explain. It’s not for me to tell.” That sadness faded as she smiled. “Your Uncle Spencer is meeting us at the station. Where did you want to go first?”
“The museum!” He didn’t mean to shout, but he had waited forever to see Uncle Spence again, to wear the special badge that let him into every part of the museum, like he belonged there. When other people in the train carriage stared at them, he hunched his shoulders. “Sorry, Mum.”
“Hey.” She wrapped her arm around his shoulders. “Never apologize for your enthusiasm. I don’t.” She winked at him when he stared up at her. “If you’re not excited about something, it’s not worth going after.”
“Thanks, Mum,” he whispered. She was the best.
The train pulled into the small station, and Kit shoved the book in his backpack before grabbing it and his black wool coat off the floor. He shrugged into his coat, knowing it would be cold on the platform, and slipped one strap of the backpack over his left shoulder as he stood.
Mum already had her oversized bag on her shoulder, waiting for him in the aisle. “I know it’s the last stop, and we don’t have to rush, but I’m just as excited to see Spencer as you are.”
Kit grinned, joining her. They made their way to the end of the train carriage, ready to go the moment the door opened. He went first, holding out his hand in case Mum needed it. She smiled at him and hopped off like a pro.
Her smile widened when she looked past him, and he turned around.
“Uncle Spence!”
He sprinted straight at Spencer Knight, who laughed and met him halfway. Uncle Spence held out his hand, a gust of wind blowing his blonde hair around his face. “Good to see you, sport.” He shook hands, then yanked Kit forward and hugged him. “Missed you, Kit.”
“I missed you, too.”
“Of course, you did.” He let go and headed for Mum, lifting her off her feet as he hugged her. “Mags. Welcome back.”
“It’s so good to be back.”
Uncle Spence set her down and glanced past her. “No Professor this time?”
“He’s busy with school.”
“Ah.” They shared a look Kit figured had something to do with Dad before Mum held out her hand to Kit. “Let’s go see if there’s anything new at your museum.”
***
Maggie wanted to stop by her shop, The Ash Leaf, before heading to the museum. But Kit had missed out their last trip, and she didn’t want him to shuffle around the shop and pretend not to be bored out of his mind.
She could always sneak up the high street once Kit dove into whatever adventure Spencer had planned for him.
Spencer led them out of the train station and to an SUV with the Holmestead Museum logo on the side.
“A company car, Spencer?” She smiled at her oldest friend. “Moving up in the world.”
“Actually,” he blushed, and she knew he had big news. News that he was nervous about. “I was just promoted to head curator.”
“Spence—that’s incredible.” She hugged him, thrilled at his news.
Kit bounced on his toes, his excitement clear on his face. “Does this mean I get to see the real treasures?”
With a laugh, Spencer tousled Kit’s already unruly dark brown hair. “Every single one, sport. I am officially big man at the museum.”
Kit whooped and sprinted to the SUV, dancing in front of the passenger door.
“I guess he’s anxious to get there,” Maggie said, fighting the laugh in her throat. Her son had definitely inherited his parents’ love of antiquities.
“He knows a good gig when he sees one.” Spencer winked at her before he strode forward, unlocking the door with a remote. “Watch the box on the floor, Kit. I’ll take your backpack.”
Kit slid it off his shoulder, staring at whatever sat on the floor. “Is that—is the box for me, Uncle Spence?”
“Do you think it might be for you?” Amusement danced in Spencer’s clear blue eyes, and he winked at Maggie when Kit wasn’t looking. “It could be a box of useless old bowls I found in the last curator’s office.”
“That would be all right.” Kit couldn’t take his eyes off the box—even after he almost fell on his face trying to climb in the passenger seat without looking. Maggie shook her head as she smiled at her son. “Can I open it?”
“Oh, why not?” Spencer crossed his arms and leaned against the open door. “Let’s see what’s actually in there.”
Kit dove for the box and yanked open the folded flaps. With a gasp, he reached his hand in, stopping before he touched whatever was inside.
“Uncle Spence—this can’t be...”
“It is, my pint sized protégé.”
Maggie wanted to peek over Kit’s shoulder, his reaction making her curious. More than curious—she wanted to see what was in that box. But this was Kit’s moment, and she’d wait for him to reveal his gift.
Finally, he reached both hands in and carefully lifted his prize out.
Maggie gasped when she saw what he held. The silver ritual cup they had found in her Great Au
nt Irene’s carriage house. The cup that had led them to the haunted village of Dell, and to Anya Trimble. That cup had changed Maggie’s disdain of ghosts to belief.
“Spencer—this is—”
“The only thing he ever asked about, with a gleam in his eye I recognized all too well.” Spencer draped his arm across Maggie’s shoulders. “Your Aunt Irene owned it first. I figured it was time to return it.”
“But—this is too—”
“What, Maggie?” He pulled her away from the SUV. “Too priceless? Too expensive? Too much for a twelve-year-old boy? No one will take better care of it than Kit.”
“I know. I just—I want him to enjoy twelve-year-old boy things, like video games, and spending hours on his mobile. Instead, he watches documentaries and researches ancient civilizations. He spends more time with university students than kids his own age.”
“Who probably bore the trousers off him.”
“Spence!” She smacked his arm. “You’re right, but I’m trying to encourage him to give them a chance. Now that he’s older, he might just like—”
“Mindless video games? Scrolling social media? Mags,” Spencer rubbed her arm. “Kit loves the past, the history that got us to where we are now. There’s not a thing wrong with that, or knowing at his age just what he wants to do with the rest of his life.”
“But he still needs friends, and other interests. I don’t want him to become a stuffy academic, who thinks everyone who doesn’t have his level of intelligence is beneath him. I want him to live a full life, and not a narrow one, focused on only one goal.”
“Understood.” Spencer squeezed her before he let go. “I have some modern exhibits at the museum, and I will make certain he spends some time with the more recent past, instead of the ancient past. Will that do?”
“For now.” She sighed. “You still make time for your surfing trips, and your love of good food. I want Kit to have that—something that isn’t related to his obsession.”
“And he’ll find it. Trust him, Mags. He is one smart kid.”
“I do trust him. I just—worry.”
“Like any good mother should.” He nudged her with his shoulder. “Go approve of my gift, Maggie Martin, so he won’t do anything foolish, like try to give it back.”
Spencer was right. At Kit’s age, Maggie would have been thrilled to receive the cup, and dying to hear the story behind it. She decided to go over and tell him.
“What an amazing gift, sweetheart.”
Kit looked up at her, such happiness on his face it tugged at her heart. “I can keep it, Mum?”
“Of course. I’ll even tell you how Spencer ended up with it.”
He glanced from the cup cradled in his hands to her. “You know about this?”
“I’m the one who found it.”
His eyes widened. “How? Where? Who did it belong to? What are these symbols?”
Maggie laughed and cradled his cheek. “One question at a time, my curious boy. And not until after you’ve eaten. It was a long train ride here.”
He sighed. “Fine. Uncle Spence—can we go eat now?”
Spencer burst out laughing. “You bet, sport.” He grinned at Maggie as he helped her into the back seat. “How fast do you want the food to be?”
Two
Kit talked them into a takeaway sandwich, too excited about the cup and the story behind it to do more than nibble on his as they headed to the museum. He loved egg and cress, but even that couldn’t interest him, and he finally gave up pretending to eat.
After tucking the sandwich back in the triangle holder, he set it on the floor, wiped his hands on his trousers, and slowly lifted the cup. It was heavier than it looked, his hands barely fitting around the bowl. The symbols just under the rim fascinated him. He remembered seeing some of those symbols before, but he couldn’t place them.
He did recognize one, and knew exactly what the cup had been used for—and who it had belonged to. Mum would probably leave out important details, but he could get the whole story from Uncle Spence once she snuck out to check on her shop.
They stopped at the loading dock of the museum, and Kit settled the cup in the blue damask lining the box. He hopped out of the car before he picked up the box, cradling it as he headed to the open door of the loading dock. If he showed Mum now just how careful he could be, he might talk her into letting him keep the cup.
He had been absorbed in the cup, but not enough to miss their conversation. If Mum thought he was too young, then he would just prove her wrong.
“Kit.” He halted, slowly turning to his mum. “I’m going to leave you here with Spencer while I check on The Ash Leaf. Will you be okay on your own?” She smiled, and he knew she was joking with him.
“I’ll be fine, Mum. See you later.” He didn’t wait for her to wave, or try and kiss him goodbye in front of Uncle Spence. The box was the perfect excuse for him to escape, and he took it. “I am old enough,” he muttered, heading for the door.
“Yes, you are, sport.” Uncle Spence’s voice startled him, and he nearly dropped the box. “Whoa—sorry about that. You got it?”
“I do. Sorry, Uncle Spence. I promise, I’ll be careful.”
“No worries, Kit. And I think it’s time to call me Spencer. Or Spence, if you prefer. You’re old enough to drop the uncle.”
Kit looked up at him, his eyes wide. He worshipped Uncle Spence, thought of him as the coolest adult he knew, after his parents. Sometimes, he was even cooler than them. Especially after trusting Kit with the cup.
“I—all right. Spencer.” He whispered Uncle Spence’s name. It felt—right, and not awkward, like he feared. “Where are we going?”
“We’ll stop by my office first, so you can find a temporary home for the cup. Then I want to check on an exhibit I’m just finishing up. It opens tomorrow, and I’d like to make sure it looks how I thought it did at two am.” He smiled as he walked past Kit, leading the way into the warren of hallways under the museum. “That doesn’t always happen.”
Uncle Spence—Spencer, he reminded himself. Spencer lived an exciting life. The kind of life Kit wanted, when he wasn’t at an important dig, or filming documentaries, like Dad.
They took the lift up to Spencer’s new, huge office. Kit studied the bookcases on both sides of the desk as he walked inside, itching to explore, examine every artifact tucked among the books. He’d look at a few of those books, as well. This might be more fun than digging through the storage rooms down—
“Woolgathering, sport?” Spencer leaned against the desk, smiling at him. “Quite the collection, isn’t it? I inherited the contents of this office, along with the title. The former curator wanted nothing to do with any of them.”
“He left them behind?” Kit couldn’t imagine a scenario where he would intentionally give away such fabulous artifacts. “I’d love to take a closer look, if that’s all right.”
“I was hoping you’d help me catalog them.”
“You—yes.” He set the box in the middle of the desk and ran over to hug Spencer. “I’d love that.”
“I always knew we were kindred spirits.” After patting Kit’s shoulder, Spencer pushed off the desk. “Let’s check on the exhibit, then we can head back here with some snacks, and get started. I saw how little you ate, sport. You must be starving by now.”
“I’m all—” His stomach proved him wrong by interrupting him with a loud growl.
Spencer burst out laughing, and draped his arm across Kit’s shoulders. “Always listen to your stomach. It will never steer you wrong.”
Spencer led him to the lift, and they took it up to the fifth floor, where the museum kept the revolving exhibits. When Kit stepped out, he saw the wood screens that hid the unfinished exhibit from curious patrons, and ran over to it, waiting only long enough for Spencer to wave at him before he dashed around the edge of the screen.
He skidded to a halt, his trainers sliding on broken glass.
The top of the display case had been smashed, an
d whatever it held was gone.
“What the—” Spencer moved past him, cursing under his breath when he reached the broken display case. “It’s missing. Damn it, who the hell—sorry, sport.”
“All right.” He had heard worse when Mum didn’t think he was in earshot. “What was in there?”
Spencer pushed hair off his face and let out a sigh. “A necklace. A priceless necklace, that this museum may not have the funds to replace if I can’t find it.”
Three
Maggie had just finished going over the books with her partner, Ashton Stewart when her mobile rang.
She smiled when she looked at the caller ID. It was Enid Phillips.
“Hello, Enid.”
“Why are you not having tea with me, Maggie Mulgrew?”
Maggie smiled, not the least offended by the old woman’s bluster. “I’m sorry, Enid. You were my next stop. I’m at The Ash Leaf right now.”
“Stay put. I am coming to you.”
“Enid—” She didn’t have time to argue before Enid ended the call. “I guess I’m staying put.”
Ashton glanced from her mobile to her. “Enid is coming—here?” He had never gotten over being intimidated by her, even after years of running the antiques shop on his own.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take her over to The Tea Caddy, let her scold me over a nice pot of tea.”
“Thank you, Maggie.”
She smiled. “No need for you to be traumatized because I forgot to let her know I was coming.”
After patting Ashton on the shoulder, Maggie headed out of the shop, spotting Enid as she tottered across the pedestrian street from her own shop, Holmesania. They had bonded over renovating what had once been a tacky, Sherlock Holmes themed souvenir shop.
“Maggie!” Enid waved to her, and Maggie pointed at The Tea Caddy. “Perfect! Order me tea and a blueberry scone!”
Tourists stopped to stare at Enid as she barked out the order. Maggie just smiled, and headed inside the bakery. Typical Enid.
Lilliana Green stood at the front counter, chatting with a couple of tourists while she rang up their order. A smile lit up her face when she spotted Maggie; she waved at Maggie’s usual table, then turned her attention back to her customers.
