4.


"I am not in a position to state, unequivocally, what the aim of an animated mummy might be."


~~


It didn't take me long to find Jonathan. He was in the hotel bar, just like he said he'd be--and even if he hadn't said it, that would have still been the first place I looked. I surgically removed him from the bottle he'd bought, and we went upstairs. He didn't feel like coming, but I didn't feel like explaining, so in the end I just grabbed him by the collar and hauled his ass all the way back to the sitting room.


I guess I should probably have put some clothes on before I went downstairs to get him. It would be safe to say that I made a scene. But I wasn't exactly thinking about how things were going to look--I was more concerned about making sure we were all okay, and getting us all assembled in one place so we could decide what to do next.


Evelyn was waiting for us. She'd gotten dressed while I was gone--in one of her starchiest outfits. She'd put her hair up, and her glasses were perched on her forehead. Full scholar mode. Her way of taking charge of a situation. But her hands fluttered around like nervous butterflies whenever she didn't have them pinned in her lap, and I'd seen her go white as a sheet when she got a good look at the little piece of glass I found on the floor. She might be able to sell Jonathan on thinking she wasn't scared, but I wasn't buying.


"Someone's been pawing through my drawers," she announced as I shoved her brother into the nearest available seat. Now it was my turn to be unnerved. Jonathan shot me an accusing look.


"I never touched her, I swear!" I protested.


"Oooooh. My dresser drawers, idiot." She was all pink, but because she was annoyed, not embarrassed. When Evelyn gets focused on a topic, she doesn't stop for anything--and she can't stand it when people don't pay attention. "After you left, I got up to get dressed, and found that my clothes had been muddled about. I assume neither of you would have any reason to go in there..." Her gaze was fixed on Jonathan. She kept him on a fairly tight leash as far as money was concerned, but I didn't think even he would stoop so low as to steal from his own little sister.


"No reason at all," Jonathan assured her.


"In that case, we can only assume that whoever was in my room was after something."


"I just bet he was after something," I growled.


"Hang on a moment," Jonathan said, holding up both hands for silence. Then, once he had it: "Someone was in your room, Evie?"


"Oh, for heaven's sake, Jonathan!" Evelyn stood up, stamping her booted heel on the carpet, and threw her hands in the air in exasperation. "Do try to keep up! Yes, someone was in my room. Tonight. Possibly... possibly an ancient Egyptian someone."


Jonathan blinked furiously. "Not this bloody nonsense again..." He turned to me, bleary-eyed. "O'Connell...?"


I shrugged. "Sorry. She's for real. We found something on the floor. A piece of glass."


"Tjehnet," Evelyn corrected. "Faience, we call it. It's made with natron and sand."


"Which would make it... glass," I muttered.


She turned it over in the palm of her hand, ignoring my comment. "It looks like New Kingdom work. I've no way of knowing whether it's authentic, but--"


"But, either way, it wasn't something any of us put there," I said. Just in case it wasn't obvious to all concerned. "Now I say, we get all our gear together, and we amscray. Put as much distance between us and whatever the hell this is as possible."


"Oh, absolutely, O'Connell, old chap," agreed Jonathan. "I am behind you one hundred percent." No doubt because he owed money to someone with very large friends. We both looked expectantly at the woman who was the light of my life. And we weren't disappointed.


"No."


"Evelyn--"


"No," she repeated, more emphatically. "Ghosts don't leave beads and things just lying about for us to find, you two. And they don't run away when one sees them. And they certainly don't go through one's drawers in the middle of the night. Just because of what happened at Hamunaptra, doesn't mean I'm going to allow myself to be victimized by some--some clever burglar, or something, playing on thousands of years of superstitions, and scaring me half to death just so he can pinch my jewellery!"


I could tell there was no use in trying to persuade her. She must have been pretty worked up, to admit the guy scared her. Jonathan, however, either didn't see it or refused to give up.


"But, Evie, old mum, I should think that you, of all people..."


Then she turned those big, beautiful eyes on me. They were so dark now they almost looked black. I knew that I couldn't let her down--that I had to stand behind her on this one.


"We might as well try to get some sleep," I said. "Whatever he was doing here, I don't think he'll be back tonight." Evelyn rewarded me with a thin smile. Teasing her, I added, "The sight of you wrapped up in all that netting would have sent me running for the hills, too."


Evelyn crinkled her nose at me in that cute way she had. "The pair of you can do what you like," she declared. "I am going back to bed."


"G'night," Jonathan and I responded, in unison.


Once she was safely in her room, I flopped down on the sofa where she'd been sitting. Jonathan didn't move from the armchair, but passed one hand over his eyes and yawned loudly.


"She's mad as a hatter," he said, to no one in particular. "Crazy as a loon. Absolutely and completely off her nut. Pottier than--"


"Probably runs in the family."


"Now, see here, my beamish boy... I resent that. I want nothing to do with any of this, I want to go home."


I sat up, gave him a look. "I thought you were hell-bent on finding treasure."


"Yes, well, we've found it, haven't we? I've had all the adventure I can bloody stomach. I want to be home, in my own flat in London, in my own bed, and right now, the last person in the world I want to wake up next to is you--no offense."


I grunted something that could probably pass for "Thanks."


"If it's any consolation, I suspect my sister feels rather differently about the matter."


"I'll sleep out here. You can snore as loud as you want, and she doesn't have to worry about her reputation."


Jonathan seemed embarrassed. "O'Connell, old man, I didn't mean any--"


"Nah." I waved away whatever he apology he was about to offer. "I won't sleep anyway." I nodded in the direction of Evelyn's bedroom door. I couldn't sleep, knowing she might not be safe.


Jonathan nodded. "Right." He got up and walked over to the door that connected to our room, then turned back to me. "O'Connell... Rick..." He made the same vague, fluttery kind of gesture with his hands that Evelyn had done earlier. It was the first time I'd seen any kind of similarity between them, even a small one. "I don't know if you knew, but I've been all the family Evie's had in the world since she was fifteen."


"Yeah, she told me." I knew the whole story: how Jonathan had washed out of Oxford, leaving Evelyn to restore the tarnished Carnahan family honour; how he had drifted into amateur archaeology, lured more by the promise of wealth than the possibility of new discoveries; how he'd eventually destroyed his credibility as an excavator by selling his finds to private collectors, rather than reporting them to the museum. Still, he was her big brother, and she loved him.


"Now, I know I haven't been the best... anything, really." He shrugged helplessly. "You know, role model and all that rot. Haven't got the head for it, or the stomach. I know you won't believe this, but I've tried. I have. Still and all, it's a bloody miracle she turned out the way she did, and I... well." He scratched his head, searching for the right words. "I'm not going to take credit for that. She's worked herself ragged to get to where she is. But what I'm trying to say... very inarticulately, I might add... is that Evelyn is the one thing of value that I've been given, that I've managed to hang onto. And, even though I'll probably never say it while I'm sober, if I've got to give her up, old chap, I'm glad it's to someone who's going to take care of her. Love, and cherish, and... what have you. And you'd damned well better, is all I've got to say."


"I... uh... thanks, Jonathan." I've never been good at coming up with the right thing to say at moments like that. Hell, an alcohol-soaked Brit whose favourite word was "thing" had outclassed me, and I think we both knew it at that point. "I will take care of her," I told him. "As much as she'll let me."


As quickly as it had come over him, Jonathan's sentimental mood seemed to fade. "Jolly good show," he said briskly. "Right. Off to bed for me." And that was it. Our little man-to-man talk was over.


It was weird, to think that suddenly I was going to be part of their family. Just like that. Evelyn would be my wife; Jonathan would be my brother-in-law. Hell of a thing. I'd never had a family before. Never knew them, never wanted to. I did fine on my own. I knew a few guys well enough to drink with, and I knew plenty of women who were soft on me when I needed that kind of attention. I hadn't even realized I was lonely until I met Evelyn. But after that, it was like... like being without her would be too much to handle.


I loved her so much that it scared me sometimes. Everything that happened at Hamunaptra had made me realize that, even though I barely knew this girl, there wasn't anything I wouldn't do for her. I'd never felt that way about anyone before. I was used to always looking out for number one. Not caring whether I got killed--being the big hero--that was a new thing for me.


I nearly jumped through her door when I heard the crash. Nearly, but not quite, because this time she'd locked it like she was supposed to. I hit the door running, and, though I didn't break it down, I definitely made an impression.


"Evelyn!" I yelled.


"Just a min-ute!" she called back, in a high, sing-song voice. I waited. A few seconds later, I heard the key click in the door, and rushed into the room.


She hadn't bothered to get changed back into her nightgown, but instead had just stripped down to her slip and taken the pins out of her hair. She looked careless, gorgeous. And she didn't seem to be in any danger, as far as I could tell.


"Are you okay? What happened?"


Evelyn examined her bare toes, then peeked up at me through a mess of curls. She chewed her lower lip.


"What is it?"


"I was, er, trying to put a bit of netting back into place, and I fell off the--it's not funny!" she exclaimed.


I tried, and failed, to keep a straight face. "Uh, yeah, it is."


"No, it's not!" After a pause, she cracked up. "Oh, all right. I suppose it is rather amusing. Although it hurts like blazes." She rubbed her backside. "I'm going to be all bruised tomorrow."


I would have offered to kiss it better, but I wasn't sure how that would go over. So I said nothing.


"I'm sorry I scared you, Rick," she whispered.


"Me? Nah." I grinned so wide I must have been showing most of the teeth I owned. "Pure coincidence. I was breaking into your room anyway. You know, to ravish you."


She didn't smile, but there was a mischievous glint in her eye. "A fate worse than death?"


"Don't knock it till you try it." I pulled her in for a kiss.


"Unhand me, brute!" Evelyn cried. I let go, and she fell back onto the bed in a pretend faint. "All right, then, you villain!" she gasped, one arm thrown across her eyes. "Do your worst!"


"Um... right."


She sat up on the bed, and shot me an annoyed look. "When was the last time you went to the pictures?" she demanded.


"That would be never."


"Ah. That explains it. We'll have to go when we get home. I think you'd enjoy it--Jonathan loves them." She hugged her knees to her chest, the barely-there slip riding up even further. The more we were around each other, the less attention she paid to her modesty--or lack of it. Evelyn was funny that way. She played the part of a prude, until you got to know her better. Or until you got her good and drunk.


"Well?" she inquired.


"Well, what?"


"I thought you were going to have your evil way with me."


I shrugged. "Maybe I don't feel like it anymore."


She hit me with a pillow, which, I'll admit, I deserved. Then she lay back down, yawned, and stretched, languorous, cat-like. It was sexy as hell. "In that case..." she began, then trailed off and closed her eyes. I started to say something, then stopped. She needed her sleep.


I lifted her up off the bed. She weighed next to nothing, so it was child's play to peel back the covers with one hand and hold her cradled against my chest with the other. I had her tucked in within moments. She barely stirred. Not even when I climbed into bed beside her. I told myself it would just be for a few minutes, just until she warmed up a little, but I lied.


And so I was there, just before dawn, when she woke, quietly crying.


I hate it when she cries.


"Shh, Evie," I whispered. "Baby, shh. It's okay. I'm here."


"It was all my f-f-fault," she stammered, swallowing sobs. "Everyone who died..."


"Hey, come on. You know that's not true."


"I wanted to go to Hamunaptra... I wanted to read from the book."


"You wanted to explore, not find treasure."


"But I did want to find treasure," she confessed miserably. "I wanted something that would make the Museum sit up and take notice of me. I wanted to make the Bembridge Scholars salivate at the thought of accepting me. I'm not as noble as I sometimes make out, you know," she added, charmingly honest. She seriously believed I didn't already know that was what she thought, when in fact I loved her more because of it. She was more noble than anyone I'd ever met.


"You didn't tell those guys to open the chest. They did that on their own. And we fixed it. We sent Imhotep back where he belongs. That's the important thing."


"Have we, though?" she whispered, getting right to the heart of the fears neither of us wanted to admit.


"Yeah," I replied, with a confidence I wasn't sure I had. "I think you were right when you said it was just a creative burglar who went through your drawers. Kinda makes me wonder how many other guys have been in there that I don't know about," I quipped.


Her face was against my chest, but I felt her smile. "Jealous, darling?" she murmured.


"Tell me who they were, I'll kill 'em." I completely ruined the impact of this statement by yawning.


Evelyn sniffled daintily and wiped her eyes with her hand. "Have you been here the whole night?" she asked.


"No, just the part of it after I got into bed with you."


"Oh, very funny." She gave me a nudge. "You'd better go back to your own room."


"Evelyn, no one gives two flying... no one cares if I spend the night here. Your brother doesn't care. The hotel staff doesn't care." I yawned again, and stretched. I'd noticed lately that showing off a little muscle sometimes added to my arguments--which was reassuring, since it meant she wasn't completely immune to me. "Anyway, don't you want me to stay here, in case you have another nightmare?"


"I'll be fine." She nudged me again. "Please, Rick."


"All right, all right, I'm going," I grumbled, easing out from between the warm sheets. The air was still cool, enough to wake me up for real. "First decent sleep I've had since I met you, and you're determined to ruin it for me."


"If Jonathan snores, just kick him out," she suggested. "He's no stranger to a hard floor."


I grinned. "I might just do that."


"Good night, my love."


"Good morning, you mean." The sky outside her window had lightened noticeably while we talked. With my luck, Jonathan would find me sneaking out of her room, and want to have another little brotherly chat with me. At least twice during the night, I'd caught him being downright respectable. If I was going to get any sleep, I would have to hope it wasn't becoming a habit.


Snug in her nest of covers, Evelyn smiled up at me. "Off you go, then."


I leaned in and kissed her then, soundly and thoroughly. I kissed her like it was the last time we'd ever see each other, like I'd wanted to on all those long, cold nights in the desert. And then, just when she was beginning to get warmed up to the idea of my staying, I stood up and said good night. When I left, she wasn't looking quite so smug.


I was feeling pretty pleased with myself, strutting across the sitting room and into the bedroom I shared with Jonathan. Between the little sleep I'd had, and the goodbye kiss, I was kind of fog-brained, so it took me a few seconds to realize there was anything wrong. When I did, I felt my stomach clench into a tight little knot. Our room was always messy, but I didn't remember it being this messy. The dresser drawers had been dumped out on the floor; Jonathan's suits and shirts were all over the place. My stuff, what little there was of it, was spread out on the bed, including my gunnysack. I may be a slob when it comes to my clothes, but I always know where my guns are. And even Jonathan knew better than to mess with me on that score. No, something was definitely wrong.


"Jonathan?" I called, pulling one of my pistols out of the sack and checking to make sure it was loaded. I couldn't see him, but Jonathan was pretty good at hiding. Apparently, when they were kids, he used to hide around the house and scare the hell out of little Evie. "Come on, Jonathan, it's me..." Nothing. In sheer frustration, I picked up one of the pillows and launched it across the room. It hit the wall with a whomph! and I didn't feel any better for my trouble. Then I spotted what the pillow had been covering, and the knot in my stomach tightened into a stone and sank down to my feet. The stain was only about the size of my fist: the outer edges of it were already drying to a rusty brown, but the bright bloom of red in the centre was unmistakable.


Suddenly, snoring didn't seem like such a bad option.