“Is that it?” said Alex. “That old box, under that table?”
Somers flipped the box around and blew some dust off. Three letters came into view, written in faded Magic Marker: B.O.D.
“It’s either that or a body,” he said wryly, lifting the box up and dropping it down with a dull thud on the table.
It was mostly scraps — the archaeological equivalent of a junk drawer — but Alex went through it carefully. He had one hand on his amulet and one doing the sorting, and he knew immediately that these were better. The spells upstairs had been the general ones, from the beginning of the Book: the ones to help the soul first enter the afterlife. These were the specific ones, the nitty-gritty … He spread the spells that were still in good enough shape to read out on the table.
Once again, he reached for his amulet and the ancient text came alive as he read:
“For Causing a Man to Be a Spirit in the Land of the Dead.”
“For Protection Against Snakes in the Land of the Dead.”
“For Protection Against Grave Robbers and Outland Thieves.”
“For Going Forth and Coming Back.”
Alex stopped. Went back one: For Protection Against Grave Robbers and Outland Thieves. The glow faded from the hieroglyphs and his eyes refocused on the world around him. He held up the scraggly scrap of linen, a single patch of what had once been a mummy’s wrappings.
“I think this is it,” he said.
“That?” said Luke. “It looks like a three-thousand-year-old cafeteria napkin — from pizza day.”
Alex smiled. The ancient Egyptians had contributed many things to civilization — advances in math and medicine, door locks, and even toothpaste — but pizza wasn’t one of them. Somers opened a manila folder and Alex carefully deposited the spell inside.
“Are you sure?” said Ren.
Unlike Luke, she understood the stakes. A Death Walker could only be sent back to the afterlife with exactly the right spell. They’d brought three to their battle with the Stung Man. This time they’d be bringing one — or what was left of it.
“I’m sure,” said Alex. But even as he said it he wondered: How much did he really know about Willoughby?
“If you’re wrong …” said Ren.
She didn’t need to finish the thought. Alex understood. If I’m wrong, he thought, we’re dead wrong. He thought back to what he’d read: “a professional tomb raider … multiple counts of theft …” It has to be, he thought. Doesn’t it?
“This is the one,” he said, filling his voice with more confidence than he felt. He was ready for a rematch with the Walker, and this was his ticket. But he had one more concern as he closed the folder on the dry and fragile linen. “I just hope the thing doesn’t fall apart on us.”
They filed out of the grim basement.
“Need anything else?” said Somers, closing the door behind them.
They all considered the question.
“Got a shovel?” said Alex.
“And flashlights,” said Ren.
Luke thought about it for another moment. “I could use a Gatorade,” he said.
They rode the train in silence, on their own again. Somers was back at the museum, “in reserve.” He’d wanted to come along, but they’d insisted — and practically run out of the place ahead of him. He would only slow them down. At his age he had enough trouble walking, forget about running.
Luke tried to imagine that: a life without running. It was the scariest thing yet. But then he hadn’t seen this “Death Walker” thingamajig the others kept talking about. That sounded pretty scary, too. The train bumped to a stop, and Alex’s overstuffed backpack shifted and clanked on the floor.
“We’re here,” said Ren, not sounding too happy about it.
Luke stood up, grabbing Alex’s backpack without asking. He was stronger, and besides, he wanted his cousin to have his hands free in case he had to use that magic bug of his. It seemed crazy, but after what he’d seen, he was willing to go with the flow on this magic stuff. There was lots of stuff he didn’t understand. Like why could he already dunk at thirteen when most guys would never dunk in their life? He had a saying for things like that: Don’t break your brain.
“Seems like a waste,” said Ren as they waited for the elevator to the street.
Luke didn’t get it until they were halfway up.
“Because we’re going right back underground?” he said to Ren.
She nodded, but he could see she was a million miles away. He didn’t understand her the way he did his cousin — he’d known his little cousin was up to something as soon as Alex moved into the spare room next to his. But this girl, with her mouth clamped shut and her eyes wide open? Was that fear? Determination? Both?
They left the station and headed up the hill toward the cemetery. The sky was getting dark now, laced with twilight purple. The hill was steep — good workout for the quadriceps — but halfway up, the other two stopped. Luke doubled back to see what the holdup was. In an ideal world, he’d like to reach the cemetery before it was full-on dark. Not that he was scared or anything …
Alex and Ren were talking to an older couple handing out flyers. “No luck so far,” said the lady, “but if just one person remembers seeing him that night …”
Luke looked over at the flyer she was holding. He could just make out the photo in the dim light. His eyes immediately went to the trophy. Third place, he thought. That’s sad. But it reminded him where he’d seen it before.
“You’re looking for your nephew, right?” he said.
“Yes,” said the man. “Our little Robbie.”
“Right, right,” said Luke. “Good luck.”
They resumed their march up the hill. Luke’s steps were heavier now, and it wasn’t his quads. Little kids, he thought. Was that The Order’s doing, too, or was it this Death Walker? And, if what Alex said was true, was there even a difference? One final thought formed in his head, clearer than the others, six simple words: What have I signed up for?
The streets of Highgate were empty now. The old couple were the last two people they saw. There was barely even any traffic, save for a few slowly cruising police cars.
“Through here,” said Ren, pointing to a sign that read WATERLOW PARK.
The park was empty, the failing light robbing it of its color. The only sounds were night birds warming to their task; the only movement, a flock of geese drifting aimlessly across a dark pond. As they exited, Luke saw Highgate Cemetery looming like a city of the dead. At its base, across a narrow road, a single light burned.
They stepped away from the trees and crossed the road. A light London fog had formed on the mossy hillside, as it did most nights, making the ground above them appear lighter than the sky. At the main gate, the windows of the building next to it were dark. “We’re alone,” said Luke.
Alex reached up and clasped his amulet. “No, we’re not.”
Alex used his amulet to force open the big lock on the main gate.
“First try, bro!” said Luke as the heavy tumbler turned.
Alex began to push the gate open.
“Wait,” said Ren.
“What?” said Alex, spinning around. “Did you see something?”
“No, it’s just … Do we have to do this right now? At night?”
“You’re kidding me,” said Alex. “We’re already here!”
“Yeah, but I was thinking, we could go back, do some more research, make sure we have everything we need …”
“And come back in the morning!” added Luke.
Alex didn’t bother to hide his annoyance. “Go home if you want to,” he snapped. “I’m going in.”
He pushed the gate the rest of the way open and slipped inside. The others exchanged quick glances but followed reluctantly. The soft soles of their sneakers padded silently across the stone courtyard, and soon they reached the stairway cut into the hill. Alex paused at the bottom to look at the layered shadows of trees and tombstones and crosses and crypts.<
br />
“Dark up there,” said Luke.
“Really dark,” said Ren. “Should we get the flashlights?”
Alex looked up. The moon was barely visible behind a shifting curtain of clouds. Still, they couldn’t risk being seen. “No,” said Alex. “If we stick to the main path, we’ll be fine.”
The pale stone of the stairs caught what little light there was. Alex took a deep breath and led the way. The others followed a few steps behind. The main trail was a little lighter, but not much. At first, Alex could follow it if he squinted. But as they climbed up the hill, the fog rolled down it. Soon their feet were enveloped in cottony mist. Along the sides, the crypts and tombstones erupted like dark islands out of the gray, framing the pathway.
“These tombstones are huge!” hissed Luke.
“That’s ’cause the people are inside,” Alex whispered back.
“WHAT?” said Luke, his voice rising.
He got shushed again and then Alex added: “They buried them aboveground.”
Luke looked over at the nearest gravesite: a long stone rectangle covered in elaborate floral carvings. He gave it a wave and a whisper: “Hey, dude.”
“Shhhh,” hissed Ren. “We’re almost there.”
“Where?” whispered Luke.
Ren’s glare was wasted in the dark.
Alex answered: “Egyptian Avenue.”
The three gathered along one side of the archway at the entrance. They peered inside but couldn’t see anything in the narrow lane between the crypts. Pitch-dark, dead quiet. They listened for a solid minute before they were ready.
“Flashlights,” Alex whispered.
Luke swung the backpack off gracefully, without a single clunk or clang, and they all reached in and took one.
“Point ’em down,” said Alex.
The flashlights lightsabered the fog at their feet.
Alex edged closer to Ren as they began a slow procession toward Willoughby’s crypt. “You okay?” he whispered.
“Little late if I wasn’t,” she shot back.
Caught off guard, he didn’t know how to respond. Should he apologize? “I … I’m …”
“I’m fine, Alex,” she said, but a quiver in her voice said otherwise. Her next words were steadier: “I just want to get this over with.”
“How will we know which one?” Luke hissed, shining his light on each heavy, black-painted door they passed. But the next door his light hit was leaning open. “Never mind,” he whispered. “Found it.”
Finding it was one thing. Going in was another. The three friends stood outside the door and looked at each other in the glow of the flashlights. Then, very slowly, Ren and Luke turned and looked at Alex.
“Yeah,” he breathed, turning to face the door. “Okay.”
His front foot was on the edge of the open doorway. He brought his back foot up to join it. Standing on the line between life and death, he took one last look at his friends. He felt his pulse in his head and the cool night breeze against his cheek. He raised his flashlight and stepped forward …
Something lashed out and struck his cheek as he crossed the doorway.
Panic rose in his gut as whatever it was brushed against his face again. He whirled around, grabbing his amulet with one hand and pointing his flashlight with the other. It was …
“Just some old cloth,” he heard Luke say.
Centered in the beam of his flashlight, Alex saw a six-inch strip of white fabric. It was caught on the ragged inside edge of the doorway and flapping lightly in the breeze.
Alex lowered his flashlight, released the scarab, and looked back at his friends. Luke was wearing a big smile and pointing at him: busted!
But Ren was looking him right in the eye, and Alex knew why. They’d both seen fresh linen like this before, or at least a picture of it.
“Come on, you guys,” said Alex, waving them inside.
The crypt had a musty smell, and Alex washed his flashlight beam along the near wall, illuminating a full row of tall ceramic jars. He imagined the 170-year-old bread and dried beef and grains inside, glad the lids were still on.
“A statue!” called Ren, shining her light into the far corner.
“Whoa!” said Luke. “Look at that bad boy.”
A stone statue of Captain Willoughby stood in one corner of the crypt, pointing at some imaginary discovery in the distance. Alex waved his flashlight over the looming figure. “It looks just like him,” he said, and it did: Same face, same outfit, same size. “Just like him.”
He fixed his light on the statue’s eyes. They were just as blank as he remembered, but instead of pure black, they were the elegant off-white of marble. Alex held the beam there for an extra second, just to make sure the eyes didn’t blink. He exhaled. “It’s weird,” he said, remembering the old photo. “This dude was a lot dumpier in real life.”
“Here’s his stone box thing,” said Luke. “He was buried aboveground, too.”
Key word: was. The lid was off and Alex knew the lead inner coffin would be empty, too, before he even dipped his flashlight beam inside. If the Walker were here, he would’ve felt it.
A question formed in the darkness: So where is he? And what about the mummy that left that scrap of wrapping?
Alex looked back at the doorway, the wisp of cloth still flapping lightly in the breeze. The breeze. He licked his finger and held it up. The breeze was shifting back and forth, coming from the back of the chamber as much as the door. He stepped slowly around the old stone coffin toward the back wall.
“Shovel,” he said, holding out his hand.
“Shovel,” said Luke, reaching into the pack and handing over an old folding shovel from Somers’s army days.
They’d reached the crypt. Now they had to go deeper.
They used the little collapsible shovel not to dig but to pry. Ren shot one more quick, nervous look behind her as Alex folded the blade halfway out and locked it into place. He slid it under the edge of the large stone slab they’d discovered against the back wall and leaned in with all his weight. Nothing. He bounced against the handle, grunted, strained. Nothing. He handed the shovel back to Luke, who was already stepping forward to take it.
Luke didn’t bounce or strain, just leaned in and applied slow, steady pressure. Ren watched him work, and the confident way he moved eased her ragged nerves a little. He had an undeniable sense for anything physical. Sure enough, the stone began to slide to the side. Once there was enough of a gap, the three of them got together and pushed.
A faint glow spilled out as the gap widened. Ren let the boys finish up as she gazed inside. It was a tunnel sloping down into the hillside, with an eerie glow coming from the ceiling. She swallowed hard. She’d seen this sort of thing before: in the Stung Man’s tomb.
Alex took his pack back — because it held the spell — and Ren grabbed the little shovel to use as a weapon.
“Flashlights off,” said Alex, standing in the eerie green-white light.
Ren looked at the back of his head as she dropped her light in the backpack. He was getting bossy again. With every bad thing that had happened to them, he’d grown angrier and more determined. He’d been halfway decent to her for what, half a day after the attack? And now he was leading them down this dark, dirty tunnel. He was rushing them. Why not take another night? Let me see that archaeologist book for myself? And maybe a few more? She felt unprepared, and she hated that.
To try to calm herself down, she made a mental list of all the reasons she had for being there: (1) for Alex, who needed her, (2) for his mom, who was almost like family to her, too, (3) for Aditi, (4) for that poor missing kid, and all the other ones, too, (5) AGAINST that monster, (6) AGAINST The Order …
They moved cautiously down the tunnel, feet slow, eyes wide. Ren turned her head slightly to put one ear forward, listening for the faintest sound.
Ten feet ahead, there was an opening. Flickering candlelight spilled out from inside. They crept up to it and stopped just short. Alex graspe
d his amulet tighter and Ren raised her shovel. They nodded at each other. Alex ducked his head inside.
He was silent for a few long seconds. Ren held her breath. Had he seen something horrible? Something they hadn’t even thought to fear?
He raised his hand and waved them in. She exhaled. “All clear,” he whispered.
It was a little side room, the last stop on the way out of the tomb or the first stop on the way in, like the mudroom in a house. Ren looked around: It was a pretty fancy mudroom. The walls, and even the ceiling, had been covered with a smooth plaster. Silver sconces held thick wax candles, and on a little shelf in the center of one wall was the single shiniest thing Ren had ever seen.
“Wow,” said Luke.
“Is that … ?” said Alex.
“One of the Crown Jewels,” said Ren. It was a golden orb ringed and topped with a galaxy of glittering gems. She’d seen it while poring over her guidebook: the Sovereign’s Orb, maybe? It reminded her of the stolen finery in the Stung Man’s inner sanctum, but only a little. “The last one just had some, like, really nice rugs,” she said.
“This one is more powerful,” said Alex, already turning away from the world-famous relic. “He’s been awake longer.”
Ren had seen Willoughby’s power for herself, of course, but a new thought rocked her now: How powerful could these things get?
“Let’s go,” said Alex.
They followed him back out into the hallway. Ren knew why he was so angry and driven, and she really hoped he found his mom soon.
1) Because she was worried about her, too.
2) Because she was worried about what the search was doing to him.
3) Because she was pretty sure he’d get them all killed if he didn’t find her soon.
Back out in the hallway, disaster struck almost immediately.
Something’s coming.
Alex stopped and put his right hand up.
“What?” said Ren.
“Something’s coming,” he said.
“I didn’t hear anything,” she whispered.
He shook his head. It wasn’t something he’d seen or heard. It was something he’d sensed. He looked down at the scarab, then closed his eyes and tightened his grip. He could feel it now, almost like a blip on some internal radar screen, off to his left, getting closer. Should we go back? No way. There was nothing back that way except the side room and, far above now, the crypt. They needed to go deeper, find the Death Walker. He looked up ahead: Ten or fifteen feet in front of them, the tunnel was brighter.
Amulet Keepers Page 10
