Tongue Tied

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with the motion picture The Mummy. I wish I was, but sadly, I have no rights to anything. Please, please, please don't sue me. I also have no money.

AN: Thank you to Lindsay, vampiremistress2sexy, OceanFae, Ravenclaw Samurai, Nelle07, Princess Anck, Giggles, WhiteInnocence, TheWinchesterAngel, and Evanesce for the reviews. Also, Ravenclaw Samurai, your review was particularly nice to get, since it seems like you really understand Madeline and what I'm trying to get across here. Thanks again to all of you!

Chapter 13: A Conversation About a Jar

The drive to the museum was dead silent. Every member of the little group was somber and quiet, but that alone did not account for the unearthly, echoing stillness. The usually overcrowded, overwhelmingly noisy streets of Cairo were deserted. Madeline supposed it made sense that the streets were empty; after a long day of damaging, supernatural events, it was only natural the already superstitious citizens of Cairo would retreat to their homes and bolt their doors. First there had been the water turning red, and then the fiery hailstorm, and finally the unnatural eclipse that blotted out the sun for hours; really, she wouldn't have been surprised if everyone had fled the country.

She supposed it also made sense that they were driving to the museum this time instead of walking; even a fifteen minute stroll was a waste of time they couldn't afford now that an already dire situation had turned so desperately urgent. All of them were crammed into Jonathan's car, a beautiful yellow extended convertible, and the sporty car had no troubles navigating the roads now that the usual camels, pedestrians, merchant stalls and occasional automobile had all cleared out.

Still, Madeline was by no means thrilled to be sitting in the backseat, jammed between her stone-faced older brother and sulky, sniping Daniels. The Carnahan siblings were seated in the front, Jonathan at the wheel of the car, and Madeline envied them their personal space so very, very much.

Daniels was practically leaning out of the car, so intent on being as far away from her as possible, and as far as Madeline was concerned, that was just fine. Rick, on the other hand… with Rick, she needed to fix things.

"Hey," she said softly, scooting closer to her brother and, more to the point, farther from Daniels. "Rick, listen…"

"You know, I think today was a personal best for you," he interrupted her. "Drunk in the morning, hung over in the afternoon. You reversed the whole process." He turned to her with a sarcastic smirk. "Impressive."

"Oh, shut up," she snapped. "I've seen you day-drunk over the years more times than I've you seen you day-sober, so don't… judge me."

Her initial indignant retort turned small and lame by the end, and Madeline sighed heavily, shaking her head. "Look, I know I messed up big today," she said quietly. "I'm sorry about the whiskey… I just… it wasn't supposed to be real, you know? All the superstitions around here, they're not supposed to be real. And I know you said, all those years ago, that there was something out there, and I believed you. But actually seeing it… it's a whole new kind of belief."

"Yeah," Rick relented, sagging slightly against the seat. "I get that."

They lapsed into silence for the remaining two minutes of the ride. Madeline glanced at her brother repeatedly out the corner of her eye, not finished apologizing but unwilling to push the subject of Evelyn Carnahan when the woman was six inches away from them, trapped in the little yellow car. When they finally reached the museum and Jonathan illegally parked right before the huge double doors, Madeline waited until Evie tore out of the car and up the grand front steps, with Jonathan and Daniels jogging after her, to pounce on Rick.

Rick was trying to jog after them, so she seized his sleeve and tugged him down to a normal speed. She ignored Rick's threatening raised eyebrow of impatience. "Look, I know the real reason you've been giving me the silent treatment was that little joke about Evie… well, I'm sorry about that too. I wasn't trying to wreck stuff for you. But let's be honest; Evie was going to figure it out eventually. She's a smart girl."

"You know, you keep saying things like that? But I still have no idea what you're talking about."

"Bull shit! Rick, I might not be a genius or anything, but I think I can tell when my older brother is head over heels for some broad. "

Rick scoffed, but the fact that he wouldn't look at her was very telling. "Whatever you say, Maddie."

"Don't try and snow me, Rick. You know when I made that crack I was just being the annoying kid sister who gives her brother hell, right? I mean… I guess we're getting too old for that, but sometimes it just pops out. It's like instinct or something."

"Yeah… no, I can see that."

"And I'm sorry if I spooked Evie – or you – and I'm sorry if I threw off whatever long game you were playing and prematurely spilled the news about your big secret crush on Evie, but I also stand by what I said earlier, which is that it wasn't really that big of a secret."

"Are you done?"

"Just one more thing," Madeline said, stopping him at the top of the steps. "Don't let my ill-timed, thoughtless commentary ruin everything, ok? I know you just met Evie, and I really don't want our lives to change. But that seems to be happening whether I want it to or not, and I'm just going to have to grow up and deal with it. I'm not going to stand by and let you blow things with Evie. Destroying your chances with a member of the opposite sex is my thing, not yours."

Rick finally stopped rolling his eyes and making annoyed faces long enough to really look at her. He wore an expression of amazement. "Are you still drunk?" he asked incredulously.

"No, I am not!" Madeline returned, rather annoyed. "And that's kind of a sore subject for me, so can we let it go?"

"Sorry," Rick apologized, smiling slightly. It was the amused smile he usually wore when Madeline did something humiliating. "It's just that you're actually attempting to have a real conversation with me while you're sober, and the last time either of us attempted to do that, we were planning on running away from the orphanage."

Madeline rolled her eyes and huffed in embarrassment. "Shut the hell up, Rick."

"No, I mean, it's nice," he pushed on, although it still sounded like he was making fun of her. "We should do this more often."

Madeline rolled her eyes again and stomped into the museum. Rick followed her. They found themselves in the grand, two-story white marble entry hall, and far behind everyone else. Evie, Jonathan, and Daniels were already halfway down the long hallway just past the entrance, arguing with the curator. She stopped again and looked at Rick. "Are we going to be all right?" she asked, afraid that all teasing aside, her brother might still be mad at her.

"Hell if I know," Rick replied. "For the next few minutes, I suppose."

He grinned at her. Madeline smiled back. Then Rick strode ahead of her, leading the way down the dim, cavernous hallway, the clack of their heels on the shiny tiles echoing in the empty museum. They walked right into the argument Evie was having with the curator.

"Yes, yes, yes, I understand that I have woken up the bringer of all evil and you don't want to show me anymore artifacts," Evie was saying, rolling her eyes theatrically. "But I believe I have an idea to solve our problem."

"Your ideas tend to be dangerous, Miss Carnahan," the older man returned snidely, looking down his nose at the rest of them. "All here again, I see… though I count only five. It seems your company is missing its sixth moron."

"Yeah," Rick replied. "We had an unfortunate afternoon."

"The blond American is dead?" the curator asked. "I certainly hope you at least managed to save the Egyptologist."

There was no reply to that, only a few awkward coughs and some nervous shuffling of feet. The curator sighed heavily. "Well, you all certainly seem to be on top of things," he said dryly. "I hope there's at least one idiot left that hasn't been killed?"

"Oh, yes," Jonathan announced, pointing at Daniels. "He's right there."

"Watch it, Carnahan," Daniels snapped.

"As I already said," Evie interjected, looking irritated. "I have a plan to stop Imhotep. Where's the stone obelisk that speaks of the Book of Amun-Ra?"

"I moved it upstairs," the curator replied. "To prevent it being seen by any more curious, foolish eyes. Why do you ask?"

"I need to see it," Evie replied. "If the stone says that the Book of Amun Ra is buried where we found the Book of the Dead, then perhaps it will tell me where the Book of the Dead is supposed to be hidden: and perhaps there I will find the Book of Amun-Ra."

"Yes," the curator murmured. "That is not such a bad idea at all."

"What exactly do you plan to do once we have the book?" Jonathan asked suddenly.

"Well," Evie returned. "If the Book of the Dead can bring people back to life, then maybe the Book of Amun-Ra…"

"Can kill this bastard," Rick finished. Evie started and the two of them exchanged nervous looks.

"That's the myth," she half whispered.

Madeline couldn't decide if this was a step forward or not. The two had spoken, true, but not the way they normally did. Madeline felt guilty all over again. She wanted to fix them somehow, but what could she do? She'd already talked to both Rick and Evie: she'd tried to fix what she'd done. Was it really her fault if they were going to be all stubborn about it?

Yes, Madeline thought miserably. It was entirely her fault. This wouldn't be happening right now if she hadn't stuck her foot in her mouth the way she always did.

There was a sudden rustle of cloth and more clacking of heavy boots on tile. Then Ardeth Bay appeared in the hallway, black robes swishing around him as he stepped suddenly out of the curator's suite. Madeline's stomach lurched, as though an evil thousand-year-old mummy had just appeared, instead of an ally. She gave herself a small shake, trying to stop being so goddamn ridiculous.

"You have returned," Ardeth greeted them with a nod of his head.

"Yes," the curator said, his voice still dripping with disdain. "And they have managed to get two more of them killed, bringing us all two steps closer to the creature's full regeneration. But Miss Carnahan has an idea that she hopes will stop High Priest Imhotep, and I must admit it isn't terrible. Let's hope she can execute it better than the last one."

"I don't see you doing anything," Madeline retorted. "You've got lots of sarcastic cracks about our incompetence, but not a whole lot of helpful suggestions."

The curator bristled, but Ardeth zeroed in on her before his friend had a chance to verbally eviscerate her – which Madeline was positive he would have managed impressively. "What became of the jars?" he demanded.

Speaking directly to Ardeth proved trying. First, Madeline startled, and then she looked around her, praying he was asking someone else. No such luck; he was looking straight at her, like she had something on her face. Everyone else stared at her too.

"Um…" she stuttered, clutching her bag closer to her side. "I've got two."

Apparently talking to Ardeth was much easier when she was completely hungover. She hadn't experienced quite this level of speechlessness on the first trip to the museum. Maybe there was no real difference between severe hangover and mild lingering drunkenness. Mild possibly being a bit of an understatement.

At her admission, Ardeth's dark brow furrowed, and she winced, bracing herself for some full-on Med-jai rage. He seemed like the angry type. "Maddie wasn't with us when Imhotep killed the Egyptologist," Jonathan spoke up, cutting off anything Ardeth might have said, and Madeline was grateful. "We lost that jar."

"But that only accounts for three." Ardeth pressed, with a tilt of his head. "Where is the fourth?"

"I have it," Daniels spat. "And I ain't giving it to her."

"Yeah, yeah, we know," Madeline retorted. "I'm the worst, and I'm in charge of nothing, and I can pry that stupid suicide-jar out of your cold dead hands."

"That's right!"

"You're an idiot," Rick announced, leaning on the wall with his arms folded over his chest.

"Hey, I'm not the one that woke the damn monster up!" Daniels returned. "And we're going to kill this sucker, right?"

"That's the plan," the curator put in dryly. He didn't sound too optimistic.

"Well, good. Then I'll take the jar home, along with the other two jars you nicked off my deceased friends, and make enough money to pay for the trauma and terror of this entire sick adventure! You ain't getting my jar!"

"And you're not getting these jars," Madeline snapped at him, patting her knapsack. "So keep dreaming, buddy, because you're going to have to pry your payday out of my cold dead hands."

"Well, maybe I can arrange that!" Daniels sneered, pushing his way into her personal space for what seemed like the thousandth time that day. Madeline scoffed, tugging her bag out of his reach as he grabbed for it.

"Hey!" Rick barked, shoving himself off the wall and leveling a warning finger at the other man. "Don't threaten my sister."

Madeline appreciated the gesture; her older brother sticking up for her was truly, very heartwarming, and it would be wrong to think otherwise. Yet, it was unnecessary. The moment Daniels launched himself at her and snatched for the bag, Ardeth Bay intervened. Madeline hadn't seen him coming; she hadn't even heard the clack of his boots. The Med-jai must have turned to stealth mode, slinking forward and snatching at the collar of Daniels' shirt. She was as surprised as Daniels was when Ardeth yanked him backwards and sent him stumbling out of Madeline's face.

"Get your damn hands off me!" Daniels shouted, wriggling furiously and slapping at Ardeth's fingers.

Ardeth didn't even flinch. He simply moved Daniels backwards several inches before letting go of his collar with unnecessary roughness. Madeline shook her head, blinking and frowning at the Med-jai's back as she tried to figure out exactly how and why he had ended up between her and Daniels again.

"Perhaps we should focus on killing the creature before it kills you," Ardeth informed Daniels, who was glowering at him while adjusting his shirt. "Rather than what you think you will do with the stolen jars you believe you will be allowed to take."

Daniels looked affronted, but didn't say a word or make another move. That seemed the wisest course of action, actually; Ardeth was calm, and his tone was even, but there was no mistaking the clear warning underneath his composed demeanor. Daniels would not be getting his hands on any of the other jars tonight. In fact, Madeline would not be surprised if the jar currently tucked inside Daniels' jacket somehow ended up in Ardeth Bay's hands by the time they left the museum.

Nearby, the curator rolled his eyes theatrically, clearly aggravated by the sheer idiocy he was witnessing. "All right," he announced. "That is enough. Let's head upstairs, and allow Miss Carnahan to try her hand at reading the obelisk."

Here, he snorted, as though the entire idea was preposterous, and then he marched purposefully for the grand, sweeping staircase in the two-story entrance, his black robe billowing behind him. Evie raced after him, her high heels clacking on the pristine white marble. Rick was right behind her, and everyone else followed quickly after them, jogging up the impossibly wide, completely ostentatious steps. Madeline fell to the back of the line, glad that everyone, but most importantly Daniels, was ignoring her. Glad, that is, until Ardeth's dusty boots tapped softly on the shiny white marble, keeping time with her own beat up black ones. He fell into step beside her, and Madeline's entire body was suddenly hyper aware and tense, on alert for even the smallest… well, she didn't know what. All she knew was that her shoulders felt tight, and there was a strangle tingle on the back of her neck.

"So…" she said, and immediately wished she hadn't bothered. Her mind went blank, completely disconnected from the mouth she couldn't keep shut. Ardeth turned his head expectantly towards her, watching her face as he continued climbing the steps without stumbling even a little. Extraordinarily unfair, in her humble opinion. "Um… now that I have these jars… want to take them off my hands?"

It was an actual pressing question of hers, born of another question as to what exactly Madeline was supposed to do with these damn jars anyway. Madeline had been fretting over such concerns since she decided to go along with Ardeth's instructions and take custody of the artifacts. Now he was here, walking up the steps at her side, and she really, really wanted him to take this responsibility away from her.

"I can do nothing with them," Ardeth returned. "We don't have time to hide them… perhaps, once your friend has translated the obelisk and discovered the location of the Golden Book…"

"Yeah, but you see," Madeline interrupted hastily. "The longer you leave this responsibility in my hands, the more time I have to ruin everything."

It was true; Madeline was just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Her track record at decision making and consistently following through on her responsibilities was, to say the least, subpar. It was marginally better than Rick's record, of course… but only if the record didn't go back more than three years. Besides, weren't these jars Property-of-the-Med-jai anyway? He should really take them back. Sooner rather than later. Now, for example.

"I don't see why you would ruin everything," he returned, with the barest trace of bemusement in his voice. "You have done well so far."

"You sound surprised," Madeline retorted, only half joking. He was a difficult person to read, and she wasn't entirely sure what he felt or thought from moment to moment, but she swore she could detect surprise in his tone. When Ardeth lowered his head with a slightly guilty expression, she realized she was right. "Well, that's ok," she added quickly, hoping to erase any ensuing awkwardness. "Me too."

"Me three," Rick added, tossing the quip over his shoulder as he rounded the landing, stationed at Evelyn's side. Madeline glared at him.

"Nobody asked you," she snapped.

Rick ignored her, still sauntering his way up the staircase. Madeline scowled, and then glanced at Ardeth, suddenly remembering his presence. His face twitched again, and even though Madeline still wondered why he kept doing that, she turned away from him, determined not to ask. Instead, she decided she should pursue the subject of the jars… but before she could say anything, their entire crew had reached the top of the stairs, where they could distinctly hear eerie, unsettling moaning sounds coming from the street below.

Evie immediately headed to the large, round window that looked out over the main road. Everyone followed her, as the moaning grew louder and louder. In fact, the louder the moaning got, the clearer it became that the moaning was not moaning at all… it was chanting, a single word repeated over and over and over again by countless people in a low, dull monotone.

"Imhotep… Imhotep… Imhotep…"

The small group all froze at the window, standing before the large panes and staring down at the street. It wasn't as dark as it should have been; there were torches everywhere, waving back and forth and lighting the street with a warm, orange glow. The torches were being held by a legitimate herd-sized crowd of people, marching up the street and spanning the entire width of the roadway. They were being led by the nearly fully regenerated Imhotep, and they were all horribly disfigured, covered in, well….

"Last but not least, my most favorite plague," Jonathan announced. "Boils and sores."

"They have become his slaves," Ardeth murmured. "So it has begun. The beginning of the end."

Madeline was tempted to agree with him. The people below lurched forward, slowly shambling along behind Imhotep with dead, vacant eyes. They sure looked like mindless slaves to her… and if Imhotep could control people simply by blowing hot sand in their faces and turning them into boil-covered hypnosis victims, she supposed the apocalypse was nigh and all that.

"Not quite yet, it hasn't," Evie disagreed with Ardeth's dire statement. "Come on."

She turned sharply on her heel and led them towards the obelisk, mere paces down the hall from the steps. It was a tall, black stone slab leaning against the wall, covered in hieroglyphs. The curator stepped up beside Evelyn, and the two scholars frantically began trying to decipher the hieroglyphics. Jonathan stood beside his sister, wringing his hands, and generally being no help at all.

The second story was open to the museum below, overlooking the grand entrance. A thin, black metal railing was all that separated pedestrians on the catwalk from plummeting to the first floor. Madeline could still hear the chanting of Imhotep's slaves as they drew nearer and nearer to the museum. Her stomach turned, something bubbling up in the back of her throat as she rested her bag on the railing and looked down at the museum entrance. The chanting was louder than ever, echoing in her ears, and as she watched the doors, they began to shake.

Heavy pounding echoed in the tall, marble hall. Madeline stared wide-eyed at the tall, thick doors as they shook harder and harder under the assault of the slaves' collective weights, thrown continuously against them in an attempt to break into the museum. Rick and Ardeth both stepped up to the railing, standing on either side of her, eyeing the shaking doors with equal trepidation.

Madeline bit her lip. She was scared, no doubt, but she had one thought and one thought only: Shoot as many of those creepy disfigured bastards as she had bullets. Her fingers fumbled with the flap on her knapsack as she flipped it open, rifling through its contents in search of her rifle. Now seemed like a splendid time to reassemble it.

"According to Bembridge scholars, the Golden Book of Amu-Ra is located inside the statue of Anubis," Evelyn explained. Madeline ignored her in favor of clinking things awkwardly in her knapsack, trying to find the pieces of her firearm without disturbing the canopic jars.

"That's where we found the Black Book," Daniels pointed out.

"Exactly."

"Looks like the old boys at Bembridge were mistaken," Jonathan said.

"Yes, they mixed the books up; they mixed up where they were buried. So, if the Black Book is inside the statue of Anubis, then the Golden Book must be buried at…"

Evelyn trailed off, squinting at the pictures in front of her. She seemed removed from the pounding on the museum doors and the impending doom it promised. Madeline gulped, raising an eyebrow at the other woman, and then eyeing the entrance again with no small amount of nervousness. It was at that moment she noticed just how close Imhotep's slaves were to breaking down the doors. There wasn't enough time left to put her rifle together, so Madeline closed the bag up tight and pulled her pistols. "What am I supposed to do with these jars?" she asked Ardeth.

"Keep them hidden," he replied, fingering his own weapons as he stared down at the quickly crumbling barrier between Imhotep's slaves and them. "Do not allow them to fall into the creature's hands."

"Right," Madeline said skeptically. "Sounds like a well thought out plan." She glanced at Rick, who was glaring down at the foyer. "You want one of these?" she asked, gesturing at the bag.

"Nah," he returned without looking at her, clapping her on the back. "That's all you, kid."

At that moment, to Madeline's great horror, the doors to the museum burst wide open, slamming into the marble walls, and Imhotep's slaves rushed into the entrance hall, screaming and waving torches and chanting their master's name.

"Oh, crap," she whispered.

"Come on, Evie," Jonathan hastened his sister in a rather high-pitched panic. "Faster!"

"Patience is a virtue, Jonathan," Evie returned. Her voice was deceptively calm, but the frantic movements of her eyes as she scanned the obelisk gave her nervousness away.

"Not right now, it isn't!" Rick exclaimed.

"I, uh… think I'll go and start the car…" Jonathan announced, backing away. Madeline gaped at him; he wouldn't really run out on them now, would he?

Yes, he would, actually. Jonathan broke out in a flat run for the back staircase. "Jonathan!" Madeline found herself shouting after him. "What the hell are you doing?"

He neither slowed nor stopped for her, vanishing around a corner. Madeline exchanged looks with her brother; he met her disbelieving gawk with an unimpressed eyebrow cock. But then, a sudden shout from Evie brought instant relief to Madeline's mounting panic.

"I got it!" Evie cried triumphantly. "The Golden Book of Amun-Ra is buried at Hamunaptra, inside the statue of Horus! Take that, Bembridge scholars!"

"Run!" Rick ordered, racing down the hall, grabbing Evie's arm, and dragging her in the direction Jonathan had taken. The man in question was long gone now, no longer in sight. Daniels was way ahead of them all as well, having skipped out right after Jonathan. Madeline, Ardeth, and the curator took up the rear.

The roar of Imhotep's slaves echoed through the museum, chasing down the catwalk after them as their small crew flew across the second story and down the back staircase. The service stairwell was nowhere near as grand as the sweeping marble monstrosity in the front entry hall. It was cramped and dark, lit only by flickering gas lamps on every narrow landing. Madeline scrambled down the steps, just behind her brother, rather hysterically wondering what her odds were of tripping and tumbling down the stairs.

She didn't trip. No one tripped. They all made it down the stairs and out the unassuming back exit, narrowly missing a herd of Imhotep's slaves as they passed down the alleyway. When the lot of them finally raced around the corner of the building, Jonathan was already in the driver's seat of his long yellow convertible, the engine running, waiting in panic for his companions to reach the car.

"Well, get this thing in gear, boy, let's get out of here!" Daniels shouted, reaching the car first and hopping into the backseat.

"Hurry, Evie!" Jonathan called as the rest of them arrived. Rick helped Evie into the front seat as Madeline vaulted into the back with Daniels. Ardeth and the curator were close behind her. There wasn't a whole lot of room for the seven of them in Jonathan's convertible, and Madeline unluckily found herself in the very back rumble seat, next to Daniels.

"Imhotep! Imhotep!"

The cry was more shriek than chant, a call for attention and not a mindless droning. Madeline looked up in surprise. Rick's ex-friend Beni was standing in the door to the museum, screaming for the mummy. Unlike the people around him, Beni was free of both boils and sores; he seemed perfectly aware of his surroundings, and there was no cloudiness to his eyes. Yet, he was calling for the mummy. Madeline frowned. Why was he with Imhotep if he hadn't been affected by the final plague?

A loud roar tore her from her thoughts, echoing through the street and shaking the car and the museum in equal measure. She looked up, up, up, eyes traveling the height of the museum's engraved white alabaster walls. At the high round window above them, the window where they'd all been standing mere minutes earlier, she could see Imhotep staring down at them.

In the words of Rick, they were in serious trouble.

Jonathan hit the gas. The tires squealed as the convertible tore away from the curb. Madeline tumbled backwards in the rumble seat from the force of the acceleration.

"You're going to get yours, Beni!" Rick shouted as they drove off. "You're going to get yours!"

"Oh, like I've never heard that before!" Beni's voice carried after them.

The convertible wheeled around a corner, tilting its passengers into the doors. Rick finally sat down in the passenger seat, safely sandwiching Evie between him and Jonathan. Madeline glanced over her shoulder, but saw no Beni, no plague victims, and no Imhotep behind them. Beside her, face ashen gray, Daniels slumped into the seat with wide, terrified eyes, clutching his jar in the lapels of his jacket. In the seats between them and the front, Ardeth and the curator sat stone still, watching the street pass by with wary, militant eyes.

"What the hell was that all about?" Madeline demanded.

Rick looked at her like she was crazy – but then seemed to realize immediately why she might be confused. "I forgot," he said. "You weren't with me and Jonathan. You were, uh…"

"Failing at babysitting the cursed Americans?" Madeline supplied.

"Yeah," Rick agreed. "That. Beni is working with Imhotep."

Madeline gave Rick an incredulous look. "What, now?"

"He joined forces with the mummy," Rick replied. "Apparently, it's better to be in the right hand of the devil than in his path."

Beni was a rat. A traitor. A deserter and a false friend. This was not news; it was a truth she'd known since Rick had returned from Hamunptra three years earlier with a story about a battle and a freak supernatural occurrence. Still Madeline frowned at the explanation; no matter what context in which she knew Beni, willingly joining forces with a cursed, homicidal walking corpse was an unexpected turn of events.

Madeline snorted, flopping back against her seat. "Well, gee," she murmured. "And I thought I made bad choices."