by Angie Fox
The ghost grew frantic. “It grows stronger with every death. You’re putting us all at great risk!”
Professor Grassino walked straight through Robert. “This is ridiculous,” he said. “Do you want my help or not?”
“Foolish!” Robert roared. “Ungrateful! Inconsiderate!” he raged.
Smoke rose from his death spot.
“You see that?” Lee gasped.
Yes. And from the look on the professor’s face, he could as well.
“You think you can win, but you can’t!” Robert raged. “None of us can!” The marked floor curled and blackened as if singed by a branding iron.
Robert began to fade, his energy rapidly depleting. “Listen to me. It will come for you. I can’t stop it…” he said, his ghost fading into the place where he died until he disappeared completely.
“So that was Robert,” I said to my two shaken companions.
“That was real,” the professor said, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing clear as day on the mortal plane—the smoking outline of a body branded into the floor.
“I have a fire extinguisher in my car,” Lee said, “just in case.” He stepped back. “I’ll go get it.” He appeared a bit relieved to be heading for the door.
The professor remained where he was. His hand shook as he wiped the sweat from his forehead, despite the chill that lingered in the air. “I’m sorry I didn’t take your word for it,” he said. “I needed proof to ever believe and, well, there we have it.”
“I’m trying to make it as a ghost hunter,” I told him. “This is my first case, so any help you can give, I’d really appreciate.”
He clapped me on the shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “I’ll do my best,” he said, still a bit rattled. “I’m proud of you, Verity. I always knew you’d follow your own path.”
“Thanks.” I grinned, warming to his praise.
Lee returned, hauling a fire extinguisher. I saw no more sign of Robert, which saddened me. I would have liked to ask him more about the house and what he and Jack had found in Egypt. And I would have liked the chance to thank him for his warning. He’d meant well.
Perhaps he’d return, because we did need to show the professor those journals.
But first… “Now that you believe me about spirits, I’d like to get your take on some ghostly artifacts.” Then, if he ran across something related to them in the journals, we’d know.
“Ghostly artifacts,” the professor repeated, following me toward the music room. “I can hardly imagine.” He stuck close as we passed through the paneled reception room, his arms folded firmly over his chest. “Will I be able to see them?”
“You probably won’t,” I said, “but I can describe them to you.”
We entered the pink-carpeted music room. The mummy lay on the slab, surrounded by its stone attendants, and I was able to notice more of it now, without the shock of first discovery. The bones of one foot thrust from blackened wrappings, as did a leg bone. Its arms crossed over its chest, as if in silent prayer, and gold coins covered dead eyes.
“There used to be a mummy here,” I said to the professor. “It’s very clear on the ghostly plane. I believe they attempted to unwrap it. There were three female statues surrounding it—”
He stared at the ruined furniture, the lamps, and the rusted harp as if they were going to haul off and bite him. “I wish I could see what you do.” He dug in his satchel and withdrew a notebook. “Do me a favor. Draw these ghostly artifacts.”
He handed me the notebook and a pen, and I took them as if I’d just received a class assignment. “All right.” I’d always been good at sketching, especially when an object was right in front of me.
I took one last glance at the professor, who looked as if he were the one seeing ghosts. Then I got to work. I drew the mummy with its undressed leg, as well as the statues, making sure to detail how each wore braided hair in a distinct, elaborate style. Jewels covered each woman’s chest, stopping just above her small bare breasts.
My professor took in every detail as the images took shape under my quickly moving pencil. “As I live and breathe,” he murmured. “You really do have a gift. Take a look at the statues’ legs. If there are any inscriptions left, they should tell us more.”
I crouched in front of the far left statue. The paint had worn off, but I could see time-roughened cuts in the stone, forming shapes and pictures. “I see them.” I began transcribing the hieroglyphs that ran like carved tattoos down her legs.
The professor crouched over my shoulder. “An effigy to Princess Mapseti,” he said with reverence.
I paused. “You know her?”
“There are several Mapsetis. Keep going.”
I wrote as fast as I could.
His wide fingers hovered over the marks I’d made on the paper. “These are the princess’s titles: daughter of Atwayum, keeper of the flame.”
I could feel the excitement vibrating from my old teacher.
“Try the next statue,” he said. Without question, I moved to the center statue, bypassing the mummy completely. He grew breathless as I copied the text as fast as I could. “Sesska,” he exclaimed when I’d drawn the last symbol.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
He knelt next to me. “Move to the third.”
He was going too fast. “I didn’t get the titles for Sesska.”
“It’s okay. If the next one is Tuekennet…” he began, positively giddy.
I scooted to the third statue.
“Three divine ancestors guard the lost queen,” he said over my shoulder.
I couldn’t write fast enough for him or for me as I copied the last of the markings. This name was longer and I was afraid I was getting sloppier as I frantically transcribed. Professor Grassino, who usually prized neat student assignments, didn’t mind a bit.
“Tuekennet.” He sat back on his heels, eyes closed. “The last of the three ancestors who guard Queen Ephseti.” He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “I knew she existed. I knew it!” He let out a small laugh. “We all knew it.”
“We had a queen in the house,” I said, gazing at the blackened remains of her body that showed through where the wrappings had been pulled away.
“Not just a queen.” The professor ran a hand over his bald head. “The lost queen. Her son cursed her remains. He tried to wipe out her memory. We could never prove she existed. There were rumors her tomb had been found a century ago, but its contents never surfaced. Nobody knew who discovered her or what happened to the find.”
“It was in my house,” Lee said from the doorway, shocked.
“Oh, my good sir,” the professor said, giddy as he leapt up and embraced Lee. “This is a day for the history books.”
“We can search the house,” Lee said. “If it’s here, we’ll find it.”
“There were so many artifacts,” I said, “jewelry and statues scattered on tables around the room.”
“Set up for an unveiling.” The professor nodded, his gaze roving the room as if trying to picture it. “Very common in that day.”
Until tragedy struck the family.
Lee gasped as the air chilled. A long shadow, dark as night, slunk from the ceiling, down the wall, and across the floor toward the mummy. It was darker than before, stronger.
“It’s going for the queen,” I said, pointing to it. “Does anyone see it?”
Lee shook his head, eyes wide.
“Let’s see what happens,” the professor said, moving close to where the ghostly mummy lay, with absolutely no regard for the approaching danger.
I took a risk and followed him. “Look, I’ve done this before. Trust me when I tell you it isn’t safe to stay here.” I looked into his pale blue eyes and willed him to still have the same respect and affection for me when I said, “It is my professional opinion that this house and any treasure we find inside it could very well be cursed.”
“Verity—” he began, with that tone he got when a student i
nsisted that the city of Alexandria was on the Nile or that our beloved Ole Miss football team might not win that weekend. “You’ve convinced me on the ghosts. I admit that. But now you’re talking hoodoo voodoo.”
“Okay. You’re right.” I had gotten carried away. “I’m not so sure about dark magic curses, either. But I do believe in evil entities that can harm us,” I told him.
He hesitated, then sighed. “I see your point,” he admitted.
“People died in this house,” I said. “Tragically. There’s something dark and sinister behind those deaths. You know what happened to Jack Treadwell. I think it had something to do with this find.”
He nodded. “Then let’s take a look at his journals.”
“All right.” It made sense to try.
Who was I kidding? It made more sense to leave. But if we fled, like Robert urged, we’d never discover what really happened or be able to help.
I led the men out of the room and watched over my shoulder as the dark entity followed us to the doorway before sinking back into the floor.
Chapter 10
The journals should tell us where they discovered the tomb,” Professor Grassino said, striding through the haunted house like he owned it. “I’d love to put together an expedition, just in case there’s anything left.”
“This way,” Lee said, as eager as I was to get out of the music room.
The professor whistled to himself as we made our way across the main floor. He had truly found his calling. I only hoped to be as lucky someday.
“Have you always seen ghosts?” he asked as we passed through the foyer.
“No,” I said, distinctly uncomfortable as I stepped past the outline of Robert’s dead body on the floor. The ghost had truly believed we were in danger. “I trapped a ghost on my property here in town, and he gives me the power to see other ghosts.”
“Frankie the dead gangster helps her as long as she carries his urn and lets him visit places,” Lee added.
The professor, who never missed a thing, stopped just outside the Egyptian room. “Is he here now?”
“I left him at home,” I said. “He had things to do, so he just lent me his power this time.” It sounded goofy, even to my ears. But after what I’d just shown Professor Grassino, I could probably tell him I tuned into the spirit world using my dollar-store hoop earrings and he’d believe me.
The professor was immediately distracted when we entered the room with the Egyptian games and decorations. “This is a real pique board.” He smiled. “Clearly carved by hand.”
“Is it an artifact?” Lee asked, letting down his guard a bit.
“Not in the way you’re thinking,” the professor said, sizing it up. “You see right here, where the legs meet the base…”
I moved ahead to the study and was startled to find Jack Treadwell sitting at his desk.
The mustached gentleman held a glass in his hand and stopped mid-drink when he saw me. “I hope I’m not interrupting,” I said.
The ghost got over his surprise rather quickly and held up his glass to me. “Hell, these days, I’m glad for any company I can get.”
“You’re Jack Treadwell, famous archaeologist,” I said, laying it on a bit thick.
It couldn’t hurt.
The ghost smiled. “Don’t let my wife see you in that dress.”
My hand immediately went to my bare neck and upper chest. By today’s standards, this morning’s sundress was quite proper—white with blue hydrangeas. In fact, it was the fanciest I owned (and the only clean one). “I’m not from your era,” I explained quickly. “In fact, I’m here to help you and your family recover from…what happened to you.” I took a step closer. “You realize you’re—”
“Dead at my desk?” he provided, resting his booted feet up on the polished wooden surface. “You can say it.”
“I ran into Robert a little while ago,” I ventured.
Jack arched his brows in surprise. “You don’t say. That sod didn’t even come to my funeral.”
He said it fondly, which confused me. “Robert died a few days after you did.” Jack probably hadn’t been buried at that point.
“That’s terrible,” Jack said, taken aback.
“I ran into him out in the foyer,” I said. “I’m surprised you haven’t seen him.”
The ghost frowned. “I don’t see anyone. I hear things sometimes,” he said, glancing around him. “I hear a woman crying.”
“I think that’s your wife, Annabelle.”
“No,” he insisted, unwilling to believe it. “She isn’t here. If she was, she’d come to me.”
Then something was holding her back. “I’ve seen her and your brother.”
Jack gave no reaction.
Darn. It wasn’t as if I could show him his family.
Perhaps Annabelle was too grief-stricken to reach out. As for Jack’s brother? “Robert may be afraid to come into the study, on account of the curse. Do you get out much?”
Jack waved a hand. “There’s no curse.”
“Then can you tell me exactly what went wrong?”
He took his feet down and rested his elbows amid the scattered books and papers. “Damned if I know,” he said, taking another drink.
“Would you mind if my friends and I took a look at the journals from your last dig? Your grandson is with me, as well as an archaeologist.”
He stood. “You don’t say?” He made quick work navigating the stacks of books around his desk. “Is he a famous archaeologist?” he asked, looking past me out the door. “The unveiling is this Saturday!”
“That would have been more than a hundred years ago,” I said gently.
“Damn. That’s right.” I watched him deflate. “I was really looking forward to that.”
I approached him cautiously. “Do you know where the queen’s artifacts are?”
He gave me a look like I was daft. “In the music room. You can’t miss them.” He sighed. “I wish I’d discovered a king instead of a queen.”
“Believe me, you did good. Where did you find the tomb?”
He held up his glass. “You’ll have to wait for the unveiling.”
The poor ghost seemed to be living more in the past than the present. “Tell me what happened to you.” I touched my fingertips to the cold, carved wood doorway. “I’d like to help your family find peace.”
Treadwell shrugged and turned back to his desk. “My family is all gone.” He shook his head. “I came home. They were so glad to see me. I was this close”—he pinched his fingers—“to unveiling my first big find.” He passed straight through his desk and dropped into his chair. “Then I died and they abandoned me.” He shook his head and reached for another drink.
I ran a hand along the door frame, wishing I could comfort him. “Your family is still here,” I said gently.
He gave a humorless smirk. “I don’t see any of them.”
A shadowy figure crackled into view behind the ghost. For all I knew, it could be a part of him, his dark side—or even the thing that killed him. “Jack, what is that?”
He turned to see. “Trouble,” he said.
“Wait—” I called as Jack’s image faded.
I ducked out of the room faster than a hummingbird on a string and ran straight into Lee.
He caught me. “Are you all right?”
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” the professor said jovially.
But Lee understood. “There is a malicious presence in this house,” he said, staying close to us. “I’ve felt it for years and I don’t have any special abilities. That’s why I never came inside. And it’s why I brought Verity with me when I even thought about walking through that front door.”
“I just met the ghost of Jack Treadwell in that room,” I said. “Your grandfather is doing well,” I told Lee. He was family, after all. “But he wasn’t able to tell me where he found the tomb or where the artifacts are now.”
None of the ghosts had offered the help I’d expected. I was u
sually so good at drawing them out.
It was clear Jack didn’t understand what had happened to him. I found it interesting that he didn’t interact with any of the other ghosts in the house, but he had recognized the dark presence. Perhaps it had killed him.
“Well, let’s take a look at those journals,” the professor said, entering the study.
“Be careful,” I warned, following him. “Whatever it was that I saw in the music room just made an appearance. There,” I said, pointing to the area behind the messy desk. I saw no sign of it now. In all fairness, it would be hard to detect Lucy dyed pink in this place.
Lee eyed the door. “These are my grandfather’s journals from the 1910 expedition,” he said, showing the professor the set of leather-bound books we’d found.
“The expedition crates upstairs arrived in the United States on June 22, 1910,” I added.
Professor Grassino searched for a bit and located the journal marked May 1910. “Let’s see where they were digging,” he said, opening the book. He scanned the pages for several minutes. “Hmm…”
“What?” I asked, sharing a glance with Lee.
The professor’s finger moved down the page. “Just a second.”
Lee peered at the book over the professor’s shoulder.
I didn’t feel too comfortable getting distracted in this room, so I kept watch while the men gave intermittent gasps.
“He’s cagy with the location,” the professor said. “Let’s look at April.”
“Over here, I think.” Lee moved a stack of books to reveal three small stone jars on the shelf behind them. They looked like ancient Egyptian funerary relics.
“Well, would you look at that…” the professor said. “The mummy’s organs would be kept in jars just like these.”
“Are those from the queen’s tomb?” I asked.
“It’s hard to say.” The professor reached for the one on the end.
“Wait,” I said, “if there is a curse—”
Too late. He gently turned the jar with the head of a jackal.
“This could be dangerous,” I finished. Not that I believed in ancient spells guarding a mummy’s possessions, or magic hexes that bug-zapped you if you touched anything. But I did believe in vengeful ghosts. I’d met a few.
