Ghosts of Karnak

by George Mann

  Now, people simply drifted past on their way to and from their offices or clubs, failing to even cast a glance at the old place, an arrangement which suited Astrid just fine. Gabriel often wondered if she’d somehow cast a glamour over the place to make it seem invisible, but the truth was most likely far more mundane—that familiarity bred ignorance, and that people often ignored the beautiful things on their doorsteps, particularly if those things had no immediate bearing on their lives.

  Gabriel, meanwhile, had developed a real fondness for the place. To him, it felt safe, in a strange, primal sort of way—a sanctuary, nestled in the heart of the city, protected by a legion of leering gargoyles. It wasn’t the religious connotations, or even Astrid’s reassuring presence, but the sense that it was the only place in Manhattan that wasn’t coveted by other people.

  Arthur had introduced him to Astrid some months earlier, during the events leading up to the Shadarach affair, and he’d found her an invaluable ally ever since. She didn’t ask too many of the wrong sort of questions, she was highly intelligent, and she had an insight into the more mystical side of life that, as far as he was concerned, was unparalleled in all New York.

  There was one catch—she’d only ever known him as the Ghost, and today, visiting for the first time in daylight hours, he’d come in his civilian guise. He wasn’t yet sure how she was going to take it. He’d considered waiting for nightfall, but time was pressing, and besides—it was high time she knew the truth.

  He loitered on the street corner for a short time, enjoying the mingling scents of the restaurant opposite, looking for an opportunity to sneak in unobserved. After a while, watching people drift past in a constant stream, each of them lost in their own little worlds, he realized there really was no point, and walked up to the front door, popped the hidden catch, and stepped inside.

  The church hall was gloomy, filled with the musty odor of rotting wood. With the windows boarded over the only light that filtered through came from the holes in the roof; golden rays that seemed to have an almost physical texture in the gloaming, pooling on the flagstones by his feet. He stepped around them as he crossed to the far end of the hall, passing a heap of crumbling pews. He didn’t know when the church had last seen a Christian service, but if the degeneration was anything to go by, it had been some years. It felt to him like a metaphor for his own lapsed spirituality.

  He found the inner door that led to the former vestry, now given over to Astrid’s workshop and living space, and rapped on the door.

  “Hello? Anyone at home?”

  Footsteps followed, and then the door creaked open and Astrid’s smiling face peered out, blinking into the gloom. Her long dark hair was tied up in a ponytail, hanging loose over one shoulder and revealing her soft white neck. She had a button nose and full pink lips, and striking eyebrows that were now raised in a look of surprised greeting.

  “Hello, Gabriel, come in,” she said, in her cheery, singsong voice. “It’s nice to see you without your mask.”

  He was about to argue that he never wore a mask, but then realized that was exactly what he did. He laughed. Well, at least the whole identity thing wasn’t going to be an issue.

  “I… thank you,” he said, finally. “It’s good to see you, too.”

  Her living quarters were as unique as she was; the walls were plastered with pages torn from books, maps, sketches, newspaper articles, photographs. At first, he’d taken them to be related somehow to an ongoing case, but he’d since realized that the walls were a sort of extension of everything in her head, and she papered them here, like random memories, stored away for later recall. Whenever she needed to refer to something, she always seemed to know exactly where it was.

  A long workbench had been affixed to the far wall, running the length of the room. It was perhaps the most orderly work area that Gabriel had ever seen, even taking into account his days in the army; neat drawers and cupboards had been arranged underneath it, each of them labelled and containing everything from electrical components, to hand tools, to sprigs of holly. In the far corner, the carcasses of old, abandoned books—from which she’d already removed the pages she was interested in—formed a sorry, moldering heap.

  A battered leather armchair served as her sole comfort in the whole place, and he presumed that was where she slept, too; the only other rooms were an adjoining chamber where she kept her clothes and toiletries, and a small bathroom stemming from that.

  “I wondered how long it would be before you came to see me,” she said. “I presume you’re here about the apparition?”

  Gabriel frowned. The apparition. He’d nearly forgotten about that. The mobsters had mentioned it again the previous night, at the Café Deluxe, but in his haste to pursue Ginny, he’d forgotten all about it. “Well, actually, that’s not why I’m here.”

  Astrid frowned, peering up at him. She seemed to be weighing him up. “There’s something wrong,” she said. The concern was evident in her eyes. “Come on, sit down, tell me.” She led him over to the armchair in the corner. He sat, and she dropped into a crouch before him, taking his hand. He wasn’t entirely sure how to react.

  “I took a bit of a beating. I have a wound on my back—I know it’s an imposition, but I wondered if you might take a look. I didn’t really have anyone else to go to.”

  “No, not that.” She frowned. “I mean, of course, I’ll take a look. But that’s not what I meant. I mean there’s something wrong.”

  “Ah,” he said. He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised by her perceptiveness. “In that case, it’s rather a long story.”

  She smiled, standing. “Well, I’d better put the kettle on, then.”

  * * *

  Over hot tea, he told her of Ginny, Landsworth, and the murders. Most particularly, he told her about what he’d found on the Centurion, and his encounter with the living statues.

  “I hoped you might be able to tell me I’m not going crazy,” he said afterwards, while she prepared a bowl of steaming water and some towels.

  “Far from me to be the judge of that,” she said, with a laugh. “Now take off your shirt and let me see to this wound.”

  Gabriel did as she said, removing his jacket and carefully unbuttoning his shirt. He watched her expression as she appraised him, setting the bowl down on the ground.

  “You should be in a hospital,” she said, running her fingers over his back. They felt cool and soft. “These bruises—you took more than just a beating. You must know that your ribs are broken, too. You’re lucky to be alive.”

  “I know,” said Gabriel. “Believe me, I know.”

  “Is this what those statues did to you?”

  “They didn’t help,” said Gabriel, conjuring as much levity as he could. “But most of it was the night before. I went up against one of the Reaper’s new ‘Enforcers’.”

  “The man-machines,” said Astrid, nodding. “I’ve heard about them.”

  “They’re virtually indestructible.”

  “Whereas you’re not. You should know your limits. Decide when to get out.” She was using wads of cotton wool soaked in the steaming water to clean away the fresh blood that was still seeping from the wound on his back. He tried not to react, but his muscles twitched as the hot liquid worked its way into the puckered groove. She put her hand on his hip, steadying him.

  “This is a mess,” she said. “What did this to you? I’m no expert, but I can see it wasn’t a blade.”

  “A stone ankh,” he said, “and it damn well hurt.”

  “I’m going to have to stitch it,” she said. “You realize that?”

  He nodded, then realized she was standing behind him. “Yes, do what needs to be done. And thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” she said. “I might yet need you to return the favor, one day.”

  “I do hope not,” he said, “but only for your sake.”

  She crossed to her workbench, pulled open a drawer, and sought out a needle and thread. “This is going to hurt,�
� she said.

  “More than having my ribs shattered by a machine with a wrecking-ball fist?”

  “Probably.” She laughed. “But I’ll make it quick.”

  When she’d finished, she took a roll of bandages and strapped his chest, winding it up and round his shoulder. He felt constricted, but immediately better.

  “You’re not to go out fighting again until this is healed,” she said, as he crossed to the kettle and filled it up for a second pot of tea. “Doctor’s orders.”

  “If only,” said Gabriel. “Things are rarely that simple, and the bad guys don’t tend to wait around for me.”

  “Oh, so you’re one of the good guys, are you?” she said, with a crooked smile. “I hadn’t realized.”

  He laughed. “Well, aren’t you?”

  “I haven’t quite decided yet.” She dropped into the armchair, but not before dragging out a stool for Gabriel to sit on, too. “But let me have another look at those photographs, and I’ll see what I can tell you.”

  He handed her the sheaf that Donovan had given him a couple of days before. “This one says ‘Thoth’,” she said, tapping the picture, “but I’m guessing you already knew that?”

  He nodded.

  “And the rest are just cosmetic. But this one is interesting.” She was holding the mark that consisted of a series of nested shapes. “It’s a Hermetic symbol. It’s different from the others, but connected.”

  “Go on.”

  “Well, Hermeticism is a complex subject, but it’s essentially based on three elements: the trinity of alchemy, astrology and theurgy. You could consider these the study of the physical world, the stars, and the gods, if you liked.”

  “A religion?” asked Gabriel.

  “In a sense. But that’s only part of it. It’s a system of philosophy and magic, of attempting to comprehend the mysteries of the universe. The scientific method evolved from the Hermetic approach, the desire to test and explore and push boundaries.” Gabriel held out a mug of tea and she took it gratefully, clutching it to her chest. “But yes, religion is at the core of it. More than that, though, there’s a core belief about the microcosm representing the macrocosm, and vice versa.”

  “You’ve lost me,” said Gabriel, propping himself on the stool.

  “‘As above, so below’,” said Astrid. “It’s one of the tenets of the Hermetic tradition. The physical world represents the heavens, and the heavens represent the physical world. They mirror each other. What happens here, on earth, is a direct reflection of what’s going on in the other realm. In this one, one might influence the gods, or be influenced by the gods.”

  “All right,” said Gabriel, “but I’m failing to grasp what this has to do with Thoth and the Ancient Egyptians.”

  “Thoth was the god of knowledge, responsible for the calculations that kept the heavens in order. In Greek and Roman times he became associated with Hermes, and then later, with the origins of the Hermetic tradition. Thoth is the start of it all.”

  “So you think the people behind all of this are followers of this Hermetic tradition?”

  “More than followers, if your living statues are anything to go by. More like practitioners. If they’re able to turn ancient statues into living idols, I’d say they’re pretty adept at the alchemical art of transmutation, wouldn’t you?”

  Gabriel shrugged. “I’d say that it hurts when one of them stabs you in the back with an ankh.”

  Astrid sipped her tea, but he could see she was grinning.

  “So, whatever they’re doing, it’s some sort of plan to influence the gods?”

  “Maybe,” she said, with a shrug. “It’s difficult to know. They could just be a bunch of crackpots with a taste for the esoteric.”

  “Well that’s a very useful perspective,” he said, laughing. He placed his empty mug on the floor by his feet. “But one I’ll take under advisement.”

  “See that you do.”

  “So, about this apparition. You really think there’s something in it? Should I be concerned?”

  Astrid laughed. “Oh, Gabriel. You don’t see it, do you? It’s all connected. The apparition is part of the answer. Get to the bottom of that and you’ll find what you’re looking for.”

  He frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean it’s no coincidence that a floating apparition appears over the streets of New York at precisely the same time as a ship arrives from Egypt carrying ancient treasures with a habit of coming to life, and a woman turns up dead, covered in ritual markings. They’re all part of the same story.”

  Gabriel got to his feet. His mind was suddenly buzzing. He’d been a fool. “And Ginny?”

  Astrid met his gaze. “Who can say? But if she’s mixed up in all of this, the same path will lead you to the answer you’re looking for.”

  He crossed to Astrid, leaned over, and kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you,” he said. “For everything.” Their eyes met for a moment, and then he straightened up, and crossed to the door.

  “Don’t be a stranger,” she said. “If you need anything, I’ll be here.”

  “That’s more reassuring than you could possibly know,” he said.

  “Oh, and next time,” she called after him, “bring pastries. You never bring pastries!”

  Laughing, he pulled the door shut behind him.

  FIFTEEN

  Finally, the temperature had dropped.

  Ginny sat on the terrace in a light flower-print dress, sipping a cool glass of water and staring up at the stars. They were so vivid here, and so plentiful. It looked as if someone had taken a paintbrush and speckled the sky. The sight of them made her feel small and insignificant; not in a diminishing way—just that it reminded her of her place in the universe, the cosmic scale of things. Being here, too, surrounded by the wreckage of eons—it made her troubles seem distant. The last few nights, she’d slept better than she had in months. She was feeling ready now to make the journey home, to rekindle her relationship with Gabriel, and to face whatever challenges came her way.

  Tomorrow, she would take the train to Cairo, where she would visit the museum and arrange the short trek out to see the pyramids the following day. Then, soon after, she would take a steamship home to New York. She’d booked a ticket aboard the Centurion, and had already sent a telegram ahead to Gabriel, telling him to expect her. The time had come. It felt right.

  “Now, here is a lady who has properly acclimatized to a life in the desert.” She looked round to see Amaury standing by her table, smiling down at her. “A far cry from when we first met, just a short time ago.” He took her hand, and kissed it. “You look radiant, Mademoiselle.”

  Ginny felt her cheeks flush. She was going to have to find a way to let him down gently. “Thank you,” she said. “It’s nice to see you again.”

  “Indeed. Have you enjoyed your time in Luxor?” He pulled out a chair to join her. They’d arranged to have dinner here together on the terrace, to celebrate her final night. She watched him take a cigarette from a small silver case and light it with a match. Smoke wreathed his head.

  “It’s been eye-opening,” she said. “I’ll say that much.”

  “Not what you expected, then?” he said.

  “So much more. I mean I knew there’d be ruins—that’s why I came. But it’s more than that, isn’t it? Like the Egyptian empire never really went away. It permeates everything. You can see the threads of culture stretching right back, all the way to ancient times. I hadn’t expected that.”

  “You’re an intelligent woman, Miss Gray. You see things as they really are, and not how the guidebooks would have you believe.” He leaned forward, placing his hand on top of hers. “I shall miss your delightful company very much.”

  Ginny swallowed, carefully extracting her hand. “Listen, Jacques. I need to be straightforward with you about something. You’re a delightful man, you really are, and you’ve been such a sport, taking me under your wing, showing me the sights, trusting me with the trip to your dig.
I’ll never forget it. Really I won’t. It’s just…”

  “You have someone waiting for you back in New York,” he said.

  Ginny breathed a short sigh of relief. “Yes. It’s complicated, but that’s about the size of it.” She reached over and touched his arm. “Are you terribly angry with me?”

  Amaury smiled. “How could I be? You’ve given me no promises, no cause to hope. I admire you very much,” he said, “and it does not surprise me to hear your heart is already given to another.”

  “Well, that’s a relief,” said Ginny. She sat back in her chair. “Now, what will you have to drink? It’s a lovely evening, and I’ll be damned if we’re wasting it talking about things that will never be.”

  Amaury laughed. “Are all women from New York so direct?”

  “Only if they know what’s good for them,” said Ginny. She beckoned the waiter over and ordered two gin and tonics.

  “Now,” said Amaury, “before you object, I want to give you something, and I want you to accept it without a fuss.”

  “Oh, really,” said Ginny. “There’s no need. You’ve done far too much for me already. I shouldn’t like to take advantage.”

  Amaury rolled his eyes. “I like that you are not very good at doing what you are told,” he said.

  Ginny laughed. She could see he was going to be offended if she refused. “Oh, all right then, what is it?”

  Amaury took a little leather purse from his pocket and placed it on the table between them. It was small, and decorated with an amateurish painting of the Eye of Horus. She’d seen hundreds like it at the tourist markets all over the city. She stifled a frown. All that fuss over something that wouldn’t even fetch a couple of cents back home?

  “It’s… well… it’s…” she stammered, unsure what to say.

  “Well open it!” said Amaury.

  She picked it up, cursing herself for being so foolish. There was something small inside, and so she undid the leather strap and tipped it out into her palm. It was a small golden ring, its face inlaid with lapis lazuli and marked with a symbol that she recognized from the site of the dig—nested triangles, squares, and circles. It was beautiful, and she had the sense that it was very, very old.