The Ankh of Isis: The Library of Athena, Book 2

by Christine Norris

  Megan put her free hand against the wall to brace herself—the stairs were slippery. “Duh, I’m not stupid. I just looked through the books out in the main room. There are some really cool ones down here. I found a spell book that’s three hundred years old. It was so awesome.”

  The enchanted books were but a small part of the library’s vast collection. Many of the books in the Library of Athena were magical how-to books—spell books, potion books, books about fantastic creatures, like dragons. Sir Gregory spent much of his life collecting them from all over the world and using them to teach himself magic.

  There were also rare and unusual books, some of which no one knew existed. For example, when the four girls first discovered the library, Claire found some unknown writings of Leonardo da Vinci, while Rachel had stumbled across notebooks of sonnets apparently written in Shakespeare’s own hand.

  “Spell books? You’ve been looking through those, have you?” Rachel asked in a not-trying-to-pry-when-she-really-wanted-to-pry tone. “You haven’t…tried any of them, have you? Spells, I mean. You shouldn’t go messing around with that stuff.”

  Megan laughed. “No. I’m not about to, either. I don’t think I have the patience or the talent for magic. I just found them…interesting. I was bored. It was too cold to go out and ride, Dad was working and you were away somewhere. Visiting your great-aunt, I think.”

  “And Bailey doesn’t mind?” Rachel said. “I would think he would have a fit if he knew you were down there, messing up his library.”

  “I didn’t mess it up,” Megan said. “No, he doesn’t mind, because it’s not his library. He’s just keeps it clean. I’m the Librarian, remember?”

  She affected the butler’s accent and stiff demeanor. “You should remember, however, that you are now accountable for the Library and all it contains. That is a great responsibility.”

  Rachel giggled. “Do you suppose having guests down is responsible?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Megan said as her foot hit the bottom step. “You’ve already been here. It’s not like I’ve taken an ad in The Sunday Times and sold tickets.”

  The stairs ended in a small, stone anteroom. Megan trained the flashlight on the floor until she came to a particular stone. She pressed it with her foot. There was a loud pop, and gas-powered torches sprang to life. They illuminated the anteroom, the single arch that led from it and the next room.

  The girls passed beneath the arch and into a huge empty space, hewn from solid rock. Inside was a perfect replica of a Greek temple. It was forty feet long, much smaller than the actual Parthenon in Greece. Twenty-foot-tall white marble columns stood at intervals along the outer edge and reached up to the smooth, flat ceiling of the cavern. The ceiling was carved with a number of symbols—Greek, Egyptian, Cabalistic and others that weren’t recognizable.

  The temple was very beautiful and very detailed. It took Megan’s breath away every time she saw it. She imagined the labor of love it had been for Sir Gregory to build, although she had yet to figure out how he built it so far underground, and alone.

  “I rather like this temple,” Rachel said. “It’s got a certain…mysterious charm to it.”

  “I’m surprised you like anything that reminds you of Ancient Greece,” Megan said with a teasing smirk. She wrapped an arm around her friend’s shoulders. “You would think you had had enough of it.”

  Rachel feigned surprise. “I can’t imagine why you would say such a thing. I mean, I only helped you cut off a Gorgon’s head. Then I was forced to fly on the back of some mad mythical horse.”

  “His name is Pegasus.”

  “Whatever, it was perfectly terrifying. Then I was almost captured by some bull-man creature and eaten—”

  “Minotaur.”

  “—and had to face a Sphinx who threatened to eat me if I didn’t answer her silly riddles.” She took a deep breath. “It doesn’t make the temple any less interesting.”

  Megan snorted. “Well, when you put it that way…”

  Tucked into the far corner, in the shadow of one of the columns, was a plain oak wooden door with a brass knob. Megan pulled the key from her pocket, put it in the lock and turned it. She swung the door open and allowed Rachel to enter.

  Rachel’s voice echoed in the dark. “Brr. I’d forgotten how cold it is in here.”

  “Bailey says it’s climate-controlled,” Megan explained. She flicked a switch, and torch-shaped electric lights came on to chase away the gloom. “The rocky cavern underneath the house keeps the books at precisely the right temperature and humidity levels to preserve the books.” She picked up two pair of white cotton gloves from a holder on the wall next to the door. She handed a pair to Rachel. “If you’re going to touch the books, put these on.”

  “Why?” Rachel took the gloves. “We didn’t have to before.”

  “We didn’t know any better last time. They keep the oils on our hands from damaging the paper.”

  Rachel pulled on the gloves and took a few steps inside. The Library was an oak-paneled room three times the size of the temple outside. Polished wooden floors reflected pools of light. A wide, carpeted aisle ran down the center of the room and away into the distance; on either side stood row upon row of bookshelves, filled with more books than one could hope to read in three lifetimes.

  Above them arched an elegant domed plaster ceiling. Today the dome looked like a perfect spring day—robin’s-egg blue with white fluffy clouds floating across it. It was sort of a timepiece. The ceiling would change as the day wore on, the clouds fading and the sky darkening until it was a deep, midnight blue, spattered with golden stars. A crystal chandelier, ten feet in diameter, hung from the top of the dome to cast its light over the room.

  The Library of Athena. Megan thought there was something solemn, something sad about this big room. At the same time, she was glad it was here, a secret place that was just for her, as it had been for Sir Gregory. How many other people had their very own library, let alone one filled with books about magic?

  And how many people believe in magic anyway? Anyone who came down here would probably be more interested in the scrolls or the rare first editions…or only editions, in some cases.

  Megan hadn’t believed in magic herself before her first-hand, near-death experience with it. Now she was a true believer, and she took her job protecting the Library seriously. She felt it was up to her to be responsible, to care for the Library as best she could.

  Rachel walked slowly down the aisle, stopping to read the cards in brass holders mounted on the end of every case. The handwritten cards indicated what was shelved there.

  “I don’t know what’s down here we could use for our papers,” Megan said.

  Rachel reached the fifth set of shelves, turned right and disappeared down the aisle.

  “Rachel…” Megan said. She pulled the door shut and followed her.

  Rachel hadn’t gone far; Megan found her in front of one set of shelves halfway down, scanning the titles.

  “Looking for something in particular?” Megan asked, her suspicion reflected in her voice.

  Rachel picked three books from the shelf. “I’m doing my paper for Livingston’s class on Ancient Egypt,” she said. Rachel tucked the books beneath her arm and walked away from Megan, through the stacks.

  Megan chased after her. “I think we should be careful about using books from here…”

  Rachel shot a look over her shoulder. “Come on, Megan. There’s way better books here than at the school’s library. Who am I to pass up a great resource?” The stacks emptied into a narrow open area with several reading tables. Rachel pulled out a chair beneath the nearest one and sat. She opened her pack and got a notebook and pen from inside. “The books are definitely more interesting here. I don’t want to turn in the same old boring paper everyone else has.”

  Megan sat next to her. “Um, well, I guess you can look. Like I said, I don’t know what you can actually use. Some of these books you’d have a hard time explainin
g in the bibliography.”

  She picked up one of the books. “Like this one—Secret Spells of Ancient Egypt: A Translation of Papyrus found buried beneath the temple of Osiris.”

  “What’s wrong with that?” Rachel said. She opened the notebook and started writing. “It’s not like hieroglyphs are some big secret. Everyone knows that the Egyptian priests used their own brand of magic. If you’re worried about me telling where I got it, I’ll just say I found a copy online at the British Museum or something.”

  “No, you can’t lie. Livingston will see right through you. And I’m not worried about that. This copy is handwritten, by Sir Gregory, from a manuscript he personally discovered.” Megan said. She laid the open book down in front of Rachel. She pointed to the title page. “Look here, it says it was translated in 1936, by Sir Gregory Archibald.” She scanned the translation. “I’d love to see the look on Livingston’s face, but how would you explain it?”

  Rachel’s face fell. “I see your point. Not that one, then.”

  Megan picked up the next book. “But you could probably use this one. A Guide to Egyptian Gods and Goddesses.” She flipped through the book quickly. “It’s just a reference book. I recognize this one—there’s another one like it upstairs.” Megan handed it back to Rachel. “It’s a little on the old side, but I think you can get away with it. If Professor Livingston asks, you can tell her you borrowed it from me.”

  Rachel flipped through the book, but didn’t really look at it. “Wonder what it’s doing down here, if it’s not that special?”

  “I guess even Sir Gregory needed a handy reference book or two,” Megan said with a shrug. “Down in the potion section I found three books on herbs. Nothing particularly special about any of them, they were just about how to grow them and what they look like. Of course, there was also a book from 1735, detailing many useful potions containing hemlock and wolfsbane.”

  Rachel’s eyebrows went up. “Really?”

  Megan nodded. “You wouldn’t believe some of the things they used it for. Poisons, medicines…a potion to turn someone into a brown toad.”

  Rachel knit her brows together. “You’re serious.”

  “Oh yeah. I mean, that’s just what the book said. I didn’t try it or anything.” She gave Rachel a sidelong glance. “Although I’m pretty sure there’s some wolfsbane in the storeroom.”

  Rachel’s mouth fell open.

  “I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” Megan said, and laughed. Sometimes, Rache, you make it way too easy. “I don’t know how to get into the storeroom. It’s in the vault, remember? Only Bailey can get in there.”

  Rachel set the reference book aside and picked up the third one she had selected. It was a large, ring-bound volume with an odd-looking hard cover. “I picked this one up because it just looked so cool.” She ran her fingers over the front of the book. “It feels like it’s engraved.” The face of the book was covered with columns of hieroglyphs. In the center was a large scarab, sporting a pair of wings and a ring around its head, like a halo.

  Megan looked over Rachel’s shoulder, then reached around and rapped her knuckles against the book. “It’s not engraved, it’s carved. The cover’s made of wood.”

  Rachel laid the book open on the table. The pages were made of a smooth, light brown paper. Each was filled with hieroglyphs, and drawings of Ancient Egyptians, like the slides Professor Livingston showed during her lecture on pyramid art.

  “This book is cool.” Megan’s eyes were wide. She rubbed a page between her fingers. The paper was so thin. “I wonder what kind of paper this is.”

  “Maybe it’s papyrus or something,” Rachel said. “Look here.” She pointed to a small piece of paper taped inside the back cover. Megan recognized the handwriting as Sir Gregory’s.

  “The Book of the Dead,” Rachel read. “Funerary Spells of Ancient Egypt.”

  Megan was intrigued. “Awesome. I’ll bet Archibald probably found it in some musty old tomb.” The thought was exciting; sometimes she wished she could go on an expedition to Egypt. The movies just made it look so cool.

  “Book of the Dead?” Rachel asked with a nervous look. “So if I read this, can I bring some mummy back to life? You know, like in the movies?”

  Megan gave her an ominous look. “I don’t know. Maybe.” She couldn’t keep a straight face—she covered her mouth as she giggled. “Sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it? Are you sure you don’t want to borrow it?”

  Rachel shut the book and pushed it away. “No thank you. You can never be too careful. I’ve seen what’s in some of these other books. I’ve been in one of the other books. I’ll take my chances with this nice safe reference book, if you don’t mind.”

  The two girls spent the afternoon pulling out books and flipping through them, taking notes. They amused themselves by having a friendly contest to see which of them could find the strangest un-enchanted book in the library. Megan, who had an advantage of having been there much more often than Rachel, won by a landslide when she emerged from between the shelves with a huge book called Sixty-Five Ways to Spot a Werewolf in Your Village.

  Megan realized the light in the dome above them has shifted, and looked at her watch. “Wow, I didn’t realize it was that late. Come on, we’ve got to go. I need to get cleaned up before my dad and his guest get here.”

  The girls picked up their books and returned them to their places. Rachel shoved the reference book into her pack and they left the library, making sure to shut off the lights and lock the door.

  When they reached the top of the stone staircase, Megan put out a hand to pull the door open. “Shh.” She held up her other hand to stop Rachel. “Don’t say a thing. Someone’s out there.” The door was open a half-inch, and voices floated to them through it.

  “Who is it?” Rachel whispered. “Bailey and one of the maids, maybe?”

  Megan shook her head. “There are definitely more than two people out there. I hear at least three, I think.” She put her ear to the door and listened for a few moments. “Shoot, it’s my dad. He must have taken an earlier train. I don’t recognize the other voice. It must be the client he was bringing home. She listened again. “I don’t hear the third person now, but I know I did. I wonder who it is.”

  “It’s probably Bailey,” Rachel said.

  “Maybe. He doesn’t usually say much in front of guests, though.”

  There was the familiar roar of Megan’s father’s laughter, and the sound of footfalls on the steps. They stopped on the landing, right in front of Athena. Megan held her breath, even though she knew no one could see the hidden door from where they stood.

  “What a beautiful statue,” said a deep voice with a guttural accent. “An unusual one for such a home as this, is it not?”

  Megan hoped they wouldn’t notice the statue’s hand was upside down. It stayed that way until the secret door was closed, and the mechanism reset itself.

  “Sir Gregory had…eclectic tastes,” Megan heard her father say. “If you like this one, you’ll really love the reflecting pool out back. Come, this way, Bailey will show you to your rooms, and then I’ll be happy to give you the whole tour.” Megan listened as they continued upstairs. She exhaled.

  “That was close.” She pulled the door open all the way. “Good thing my Dad is loud, or they might have heard us.”

  Megan’s father did not know about the Library. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to tell him, but she had sworn to Bailey when she took the job as Librarian that she wouldn’t tell anyone else, including her father. For all she loved and trusted him, her father was a very down-to-earth man, his eye always on the bottom line. She couldn’t risk his wanting to have the contents of the Library appraised or put on display, or even that he would ask his employer, who technically still owned the house, about it.

  Sir Gregory had been a client of the firm her father now worked for, and a friend to its founder, Mr. Baird. When Sir Gregory died, with no family, he left the house to Mr. Baird with the stipulation it was n
ever sold. Sir Gregory’s wishes were honored, but none of the Baird family ever knew about the Library.

  There was something else. Bailey told her and Rachel that, before the Library was even thought of, someone sent a burglar to try and steal the Crown of Zeus. He never learned who hired the unsuccessful thief, but whoever it was had known about the crown’s power. It crossed Megan’s mind, on more than one occasion, someone might still be after it, or any of the other artifacts. The world was full of untrustworthy people.

  Megan peeked from behind the statue. “The coast is clear.” She waved Rachel out, and Rachel closed the secret door without a sound.

  “I’m going to go,” Rachel said. She hopped down the stairs and walked to the front door. The rain had stopped and a weak sunshine came through the windows and fell on the entrance-hall floor. She tapped her backpack. “I’ll bring this back soon, all right?”

  Megan nodded. “Want to go riding tomorrow? We could, you know, enjoy a little of our holiday?”

  “Ooo, that’s tempting, but I should really get started on this paper.”

  “Aw, c’mon, it’s vacation. I’ll call Claire and Harriet. We’ll all go. You can start on the paper tomorrow night.”

  Rachel closed her eyes and dropped her head back. “All right. I surrender to temptation. I’ll call Claire when I get home. But you won’t be able to reach Harriet. She went with her parents to Paris this week. Shopping trip or some such thing.” She opened the door and gave Megan a quick wave. “I’ll see you.”

  “I’ll IM you tonight,” Megan called after her. When the door closed, she turned and walked up the steps to the hall. Bailey walked toward her.

  “Good day, miss,” he said in his usual dry tone. “I trust you and Miss Rachel had an enjoyable day?”

  “Yes, thank you,” Megan said.

  “I also trust you left the Library as you found it?”