1934
Valley of the Kings, Egypt
The sandstorm died as the desert faded into twilight. A shrouded figure stood atop the highest cliff, lingering before a tiny freestanding building. The structure's stone surface was crammed with strange imagery, rows of sideways characters interspaced with jumbling hieroglyphics. Below, the dust settled. The valley was stripped bare now.
"Rise." The shadow reached its hand towards the pink and purple sky.
For an instant, all was still.
Then, the dead awoke. They stumbled out of broken tombs. They surfaced from the dry earth. They raised decaying limbs towards the figure on the hill.
That night, the ancient kings streamed from their place of rest, spilling out into the desert. An army, undead, unreasoning, and awaiting orders.
The shrouded one laughed.
Oxfordshire, England
Evy hadn't slept last night. All the signs were there; hair frazzled, face pale, back hunched. She sipped her tea, eyes practically twitching with fatigue as Rick took a seat across from her at the dining room table.
"What time did you go to bed, honey?" he asked, digging into his plateful of bacon and eggs. Evy laughed bitterly in response. "Up late with research? Or is it just another mummy apocalypse?" Her grim silence surprised him. "Wait… Seriously?"
"Seriously," she murmured.
"Again?" Rick slammed down his fork in disgust. "Mummies again? At this point, I'd prefer vampires. Aliens. Anything else. A change of pace, you know?"
"Yesterday's front page of the Evening Standard." She handed him the newspaper, too sleepy for fully formed sentences. "Read it."
"Mummies and homework?" Rick scanned the headlines. "'Break in at the Cairo Museum of Antiquities.' That can't be good. What'd they take?"
"Well, most of the mummies. And the Enigmatic Book of the Netherworld. An ancient Egyptian funerary text." Evy rubbed her eyelids. "Rick, out of all the priceless treasures in the museum, they took some dead bodies and rows upon rows of hieroglyphics."
"What's the book about, exactly?"
"Ostensibly, the creation and rebirth of the sun," Evy said. "No one knows for sure, really, it's entirely composed of cryptographic illustrations."
"Maybe, just maybe, this time there's a different explanation. Some janitor got greedy. A curator nicked it to pay off his gambling debts."
"Not possible, unless they've employed a group of circus strongmen since I left. The Book of the Netherworld isn't a book in the traditional sense. It's an entire shrine. A small building. It probably weighs a ton. Not exactly portable material for a cat burglar." Evy impulsively swiped the last piece of bacon from Rick's plate. He sulked. "Finish your homework, darling."
Rick read the last portion of article aloud. "'A rogue sandstorm several blocks away from the museum prevented Cairo police from responding to the robbery in a timely fashion. According to the department's Master Sergeant Hatem, a small street market was "completely buried" by the dust, resulting in three deaths and numerous injuries. The unexpected natural disaster appears to have prompted group hysteria in some witnesses. Hatem explained that superstitious locals blamed the disaster on "a robed sorcerer leading a small army of the undead." According to them, the mysterious figure attacked the market and promptly disappeared into the cloud of sand…' Superstitious locals. Yeah, if only." Rick rolled his eyes at the article's condescending tone.
"What's happening?" Alex drifted in from the kitchen, munching on a scone.
"Nothing—" Evy began.
"Mummies," Rick blurted out, earning himself a glare from his wife. "Evy, I don't think it's going to send him into shock. He's already been kidnapped by one mummy."
"Yes, and in light of that you want to embroil him in another potentially dangerous situation involving mummies?"
"I'm not embroiling him, just informing—"
"Imhotep's back?" Alex asked, interrupting the brewing quarrel.
"We're not sure, sweetie," Evy said.
"Why not, though?" Rick muttered. "He's like the boomerang of mummies." He turned to his wife. "So, they've stolen this Book of the Netherworld. What do they want with it? What's their next move?"
"I don't know. Maybe I should call them up and ask them about their evil plans." Evy cracked a smile, which quickly faded. "The Book of the Netherworld was a shrine in Tutankhamen's tomb, which was discovered by my father's archaeological team in 1922. Last night, I reviewed Dad's notes to see if he found any clues as to its meaning. What I found was interesting. He associated the shrine's imagery with the Blood Serpent necklace. He theorized that the necklace might be the key to unlocking the Book's secrets."
"Blood Serpent? That doesn't sound ominous at all," Rick muttered. "What is it?"
"It's a golden wesekh collar that once belonged to Tutankhamen. It gets its name from the large snake-shaped ruby in its center."
"And let me guess," Rick said. "It's missing, right?"
"For quite some time, actually. It's lost. We only have a very detailed account of what it looked like, written and illustrated by a Middle Eastern dignitary visiting the Egyptian court at the time. When the Ottoman Empire conquered Egypt in the sixteenth century, a small, hollow statue of the Mnevis bull was broken in the looting. The Blood Serpent necklace fell out and disappeared again. There have been sightings since then, but none have come to fruition."
"Well, if it's lost to the ages, at least it won't fall into the wrong hands," Alex said.
"Not quite," Evy said. "My sources at the British Museum have informed me that a certain Dr. Boris Hackley is currently hunting for the necklace throughout the Mediterranean. He's from a wealthy family; paid his way through all the top schools. A self-styled archaeologist with zero academic credentials, living off the reputation of his ancestors."
"I see. So, when did your brother change his name?" Rick smirked.
"Trust me, Hackley makes Jonathan sound legitimate. Right now, the man is dropping a fortune looking for this thing."
"At the same time that mummies are attacking Cairo?"
"Odd coincidence, don't you think?"
"So I guess we're bound for Cairo, then?"
"Not yet," Evy said. "I have a few leads in regards to the necklace's location. Right now, Greece is looking like the best one."
"See the Parthenon, fight some mummies." Alex sat down, pouring himself a cup of tea. "Sounds like a promising family vacation."
"Who says that you're coming too?" Rick asked.
"Someone needs to keep you two safe." Alex's demeanor was so casual, he might have been discussing a game of football or a spelling bee. His parents shared a smile.
"Right, then. But if the danger becomes too great, we're taking you straight back home," Evy added. Alex nodded vigorously at the stern tone and unconvincing words. "I'll send Jonathan a telegram too. Ask him to stop larking about Paris and head to the Levant. Another very likely location, in my humble opinion." She noticed Rick's raised eyebrows. "Say what you will about the man, but he has more experience dealing with these sort of crises than most people. This is a serious situation. I'm sure that Jonathan will conduct himself with the utmost professionalism and tact."
Jerusalem, Mandatory Palestine
Irene Coffin burst into the swarming ballroom, a manic smile on her face, a bundle of linen in her hand. The 15th Annual Bembridge Scholars Archaeological Conference. All of the important names in archaeology, academia, auctioneering, and museum curating were traipsing about this very room, eating finger food and making awkward small talk. Irene felt like collapsing in an exhausted, happy heap, right there, in the middle of Jerusalem's swankiest hotel. She had finally made it to the big time.
All thanks went to the small parcel she was carrying. This morning, Irene had entered a seedy pawnshop in the ancient city's Armenian Quarter, expecting yet another dead-end. She had exited the store with the necklace. It had been coated in dust and earth, forgotten at the bottom of a dusty bin filled with other small curiosities from a 1911 dig near Beersheba. Just lying there, like any other necklace. Neither the 1911 dig team nor the pawnshop owner had recognized that this was no ordinary piece of jewelry. This was the stuff that dreams were made of, the stuff that careers were built on.
Irene unwrapped the linen to peek at her prize, as she had done many times on the cab ride over to the ritzy hotel. A thick golden collar, a wesekh necklace, glinted in the soft light of the chandeliers. Glittering on its surface was a ruby snake.
Enough gloating. Time to find Dr. Hackley and give him the splendid news…
"I say… is that the Blood Serpent?"
"You know your ancient Egyptian artifacts, sir." Irene whirled around to face a remarkably elderly man. His face was a virtual web of cavernous wrinkles,
"Dr. John Banning." He gave her a rotten smile. "I dabble in archaeology myself."
Irene scanned the large nametag he wore on his worn lapel.
Secretary of the British Museum's Egyptology Department. Of course he knows his ancient Egyptian artifacts, you overconfident idiot. Stop gawking at his horrible teeth and network.
"Irene Coffin." Irene reached out to shake Banning's hand, only to have him kiss hers. His lips felt papery on her skin. "It's an honor to meet you, sir. Your work is an inspiration—"
"Yes, yes, commend the ancient archaeologist on his past glory, when you've acquired in a day what my teams and I couldn't find for decades!" Banning mused. "Allow me to escort you to the bar and buy you a celebratory beverage." Her urge to flee the somewhat creepy offer was overwhelmed by her desire to impress the esteemed figure. And God, did she need a strong drink. "So, how did a lovely young thing like you manage to snag the archaeological find of the year?"
"I certainly didn't do it in a day," Irene smiled, tiredly. "Arak, please."
"Exotic. I shall take the same, barkeep."
Two murky glasses slid across the bar.
"Last year, a gentleman visited Featherby's Auction House in London," Irene began, sipping her drink. "Dr. Boris Hackley was his name. He said that he was looking for the Blood Serpent necklace. He offered a sizeable sum of money, but my superiors weren't terribly interested. Featherby's is an auction house, not a private detective agency. We sell ancient art on behalf of our clients; we don't track it down if it's lost. No one was interested in taking Hackley's case."
"But your interest was piqued, wasn't it?" Banning grinned.
"Yes. I was only a clerk, but I'd always had an interest in Egyptology. My sister and her husband did quite a few digs, actually. They sent me so many little artifacts, my flat still looks like a museum storage room." She smiled, eyes lost. "Years ago, I flirted with the idea of pursuing archaeology but that's a game for lucky boys from wealthy families… Sorry."
Brilliant idea, Irene! Get drunk, ramble on, and insult potential contacts.
"A refreshingly accurate assessment." Dr. Banning's clear, sunken blue eyes twinkled.
"I—I, anyways, Dr. Hackley was about to leave when I offered to assist him."
"A large risk on your part, I'd image."
"Yes! My superiors basically told me not to come back empty handed." Irene set down her half-empty glass, feeling a familiar tingling in her throat. "I joined Hackley's team with my niece, Emily Gates. Whip smart archaeological student at Cambridge. She wants some fieldwork experience, so she's taking a year off to work alongside me. Bless that girl. Truth be told, she's the only thing that's kept me sane all these months. She's in Cairo right now; I can't wait to tell her the good news! Anyways, we split up, each of us scouring different corners of the Middle East for the Blood Serpent, a necklace lost for thousands of years! But we followed up on every lead, every whisper. We chased this bloody—excuse me—blooming snake across the desert. I searched every pawnshop I could find. I visited as many private collectors as I could. I even organized a few archaeological digs. Nothing."
"What brought you to Palestine?"
"Well, that's where things start to sound like something out of a pulp novel," Irene chuckled, swirling the Arak in its glass. "I heard a rumor that some gentleman—an archaeological rogue, if you will—had embarked on a similar quest in Jerusalem. According to my sources, he was close to locating the necklace. I figured I'd follow the expert's lead. Agony ensued."
"Agony?"
Irene scowled at the memory.
"This so-called gentleman thief and I became locked in a battle for the Blood Serpent. Emily supplied me with a few contacts throughout the Levant; they kept me informed on his progress. The man was a scoundrel, pickpocketing, bribing, and lying his way throughout Jerusalem."
"Didn't you report his actions to the authorities?"
"The bastard—sorry—rascal was always in disguise! He was like a ghost, very hard to catch."
"The nerve! Did you ever catch this rapscallion's name?"
"I heard that his name was really John Callahan? Calloway?" Irene scowled. "He used many aliases, the snake. I can't tell you how many times I thought I had the Blood Serpent in my grasp, only to have him ruin everything. When I dug outside of Jaffa, he bribed some of the workers to spy on me and sabotage equipment! A wealthy merchant thought he might own the necklace. When I went to appraise the item, I was turned away at the door because that bastard—sorry—idiot had broken in the night before. It turned out to be a copy, thank goodness. But the worst incident of all had to be last week's encounter." The woman's eyes narrowed. "Mr. Carney, or whatever, had the gall to warn me to stop looking for the Blood Serpent."
"Did he threaten you?" Dr. Banning looked scandalized.
"Not really," Irene shook her head. "He sidled next to me at this crowded bar in the Christian quarter, dressed as Bedouin, mind you, and said that the Blood Serpent necklace was cursed. In the wrong hands, it could lead to… what did he say? A mummy apocalypse. What does that even mean? If I find the necklace, a bunch of crusty, mummified remains are going to cause the end of the world? Never have I ever heard such nonsense. Does he think that, because I'm a woman, I'm going to believe his superstitious nonsense and swoon and give up my search? How condescending, how bloody patronizing!"
Irene took a deep breath, blushing. Control your ranting, Coffin! Dr. Banning patted her hand and stood up from the bar.
"You've been through much, my dear. Pursuit of treasure can be a cruel mistress." The elderly archaeologist linked arms with Irene, as they began to stroll about ballroom. "But she rewards her persistent lovers." He sighed, wistfully. His blue eyes, which were surprisingly bright, shone. "Might I see the coveted gem, my dear?"
She hesitated for a moment. "Of course." Irene reluctantly unwrapped the linen. Much to her dismay, Dr. Banning snatched up the artifact in his wrinkly hands.
"Brilliant, brilliant," he whispered, hoarsely. "Brilliant girl." Could she tell him to be careful with the damn thing without sounding like an insolent upstart? "Such beauty." The inlaid ruby snake sparkled against the gold, nearly creating the illusion of a slithering serpent. "This necklace was worn by Tutankhamen himself. Just think of it, Miss Coffin." Dr. Banning took a sharp breath. "Thousands of years, this gem was forgotten, tossed about, regarded as a trinket. Until you came along."
"Dr. Banning, you flatter me. But I can't take the all credit; I'm just a member of Dr. Hackley's team. He's somewhere around here. I think I'll just take that back and go surprise him. I'll introduce you—" Irene's smile vanished as the elderly man collapsed to the ballroom, clutching his chest. "Oh my God!" She knelt beside his prone form as a crowd circled about them. "Is there a doctor present?" A chorus of positive responses rang out through the crowd. "A medical doctor?" Silence.
"Clumsy me," Dr. Banning chortled, sitting up. "I'm afraid, Miss Coffin, that your priceless artifact has nothing on me in terms of age." He handed her back the Blood Serpent necklace with a sheepish smile. Intrigued by the words "priceless" and "artifact", the circle around Irene swelled. She felt a nervous prickling in her palms.
This is your moment. Time to announce your find. The Blood Serpent! A beautifully crafted New Kingdom necklace, steeped in mystery and the occult, presumed lost to the ages. Discovered by the renowned (and single) Irene Coffin, a rising expert in the world of ancient art…
"Ah, yes! Here come the vultures." Banning winked at her, before turning to the crowd. "My friend, the lovely Irene Coffin, would like to share her amazing discovery with you all!" The old man's gravelly voice boomed about the room. "It's bound to knock the socks off even the stuffiest of you bigwigs." Murmurs of interest rippled through the conference hall. "Tell 'em what you've got, Coffin!" Dr. Banning slipped into the circle, leaving Irene alone in the center of the archaeological mob.
"Thank you, Dr. Banning," Irene said. She spoke slowly, to keep her voice from trembling. She hadn't anticipated declaring her discovery quite like this, to a silent, expectant ballroom full of highly educated specialists. "Terribly sorry for the interruption, everyone! I would just like to make a quick announcement, um, about my recent discovery…" Irene held up the sparkling necklace. The crowd gasped. "After a year's search, I am proud to announce that I have found the Blood Serpent, the beautiful and mysterious Egyptian Middle Kingdom necklace, once thought lost in the sands of time!"
Only then did she notice that the archaeological find of the year had somehow grown a £1 price tag…
The man scurried through the alleyways, discarding pieces of his face as he went. The whiskers, the fake spectacles, the eyebrows, all peeled off and dropped amongst the stray cat-infested garbage. Lastly, he yanked off the false nose.
"Much better," Jonathan Carnahan said, finally able to breathe properly. He slipped out of the ratty dinner jacket, revealing a crisp linen blazer. From the discarded garment, he retrieved a small silver flask and downed its contents. "Bloody hell, what a night."
The elaborate ruse had paid off, though. He patted the real Blood Serpent necklace in his breast pocket. Several months ago, he had received an urgent telegram from Evy. Something about finding the Blood Serpent before bad people used it to take over the world. The usual nonsense. Jonathan smiled wistfully. Why did the priceless artifacts always turn out to be the apocalyptic ones? The Blood Serpent could buy a lot of booze.
Jonathan retrieved the jewelry from his jacket and examined it in the dim light of the moon. He wasn't one to question his sister's always-impeccable logic, but this necklace seemed particularly innocuous. Then again, so had that damn Bracelet Anubis that nearly killed Alex the year before. In all honesty, he was doing that auction house woman a favor by taking it off her hands.
That auction house woman. Pale, slightly plump, mass of dark curls piled atop her head like a crown. Like one of the classical statues that Featherby's sold, minus the harshness locked in the typical Aphrodite's marble gaze. Her eyes were blue, sad, searching.
Jonathan smirked. Now was not a good time to get mushy over a mark. Still, Irene Coffin was in for a rough night. He couldn't help but feel bad about her situation. On a whim, he'd left her a little note, expressing his condolences. It was stupid, but what else could he do? Jonathan shrugged. She'd get over it eventually.