Chapter 2: Only Darkness Beneath Their Hoods
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Mummies Alive (wish I did, but I don't).
Presley wished it would just hurry up and rain already. It was incredibility hot, and the humidity was making the heat truly unbearable. The overcast sky, filled by thick boiling black clouds, threatened to drown San Francisco at any moment, but so far not a drop had fallen. It had been like this for nearly a week.
But at lest there was one thing to look forward to; school was out in five days! And with summer here at long last, Presley would finally be able to relax and have some fun and he wouldn't be to only one; Ja-Kal, a perpetual worrier, would be much at ease with Presley out of classes and under their watch more often.
Not that it won't be fun to spend more time with the four mummies; Armon would frequently be asking to go to Beefy Burger and would make pancakes and French toast every other day. Nefer-Tina would get into an argument with Rath at lest once a week, and every time the scribe began muttering indigently about how short the modern day school year was or that Presley should be attending his studies instead of lollygagging about, she would usher the boy outside, requesting he teach her to play basketball and they'd both leave just in time too catch the first of Rath's exasperated shouts. Once a week they'd all go out fishing or star gazing or just down to the beach and Ja-Kal would lunch into a vivid narrative about Egypt back in ancient times, that would captivate them all for hours.
Presley picked up his pace, smiling slightly as he remembered the mummy's last tale about the day his four year old nephew, Kimas, just about gave them all a heart attack when he'd proudly shown his mother and aunt the large tarantula he had caught, unaware that both women were highly arachnophobia.
He glanced at his watch. It was getting late. His mother would be worried if he didn't get home soon. He'd eat dinner, do his homework and take a shower. After that he'd go to bed and in the morning take the bus to school and repeat the whole thing over again, until that last day of school when, with exams ahead, he'd study like mad for two days and after that be finished for the year. There'd be no more homework, no more getting up ridiculously early to catch the bus, no more classes. He couldn't wait!
He walked down the street, catching his reflection in large shop windows. In the last three and a half years Presley had grown from the gawky twelve year old he'd been when he'd met the Mummies. Though still slim and wiry, he had begun to fill out. He was taller now and showed promise of growing up to be as big as Ja-Kal once fully grown. Wearing a pair of plain blue jeans and a white t-shirt, he still wore the green backpack that had become like a faithful friend in the last few years and the golden amulet of Prince Rapses. His voice was deeper, too, and Nefer-Tina still liked to poke a little good-natured fun at him every now and then about the first time his voice had cracked and, half way through bellowing an angry threat at Scarab, he gone from boyishly high-pitched to 'growling like a bear' (which had partly ruined the effected of the statement).
Flash…BOOM!
Presley jumped, startled from his thoughts, as the thunder clap half deafened him. "Man," he gasped, laughing ruefully, "That just about gave me a heart attack!" Looking up at the thick layer of rolling, bubbling clouds that blanketed the sky, he quickly decided that the fastest way to get home would be to stop by the Sphinx and ask Nefer-Tina to give him a ride to his house.
Keeping a wary eye on the storm above him, it took Presley a moment to realize he wasn't as alone as he had thought.
It was the sound that caught his attention first, the sound of something out in the darkness sucking in a long, slow, rattling breath. Presley froze. The light had dimmed around him, plunging the empty street into darkness.
The thing inhaled again, much closer.
He twisted around, and paled as a flash of lightning momentarily lit up the boulevard. A cloaked and hooded figure towered above him, twelve feet tall and faceless…
It lunged at him, stretching out a slimy, grey hand.
Presley didn't wait for it.
He dropped, scrapping his hands and elbows. The hooded creature flew over his head. Straightening, he spun awkwardly on his knees. The thing reoriented itself in the air and rushed at him again. Presley rolled out of the way and sprang up.
Something drew a long, rattling breath behind him.
Presley didn't bother to look around. One hand wrapped around his amulet as he raced down the street, away from the creature. He could hear it following.
"Guys," he told the amulet and the humid night air in front of him, "I could really use some help right now!"
Abruptly, it started to pour.
The mock small-scale Sphinx stood out on a lonely stretch of the street, made stark and foreboding by the storm raging around it, filling the regal face above the entrance with sinister purpose. Inside, four sarcophagi stood still and silent, their ancient occupants slumbering deeply.
Ja-Kal's amulet beeped warningly, flashing red. The hunter jerked awake, banging his knees on the lid of his sarcophagus. Disoriented, for a moment Ja-Kal stared down groggily at the blinking amulet resting on his chest.
Then he realized what was going on.
He flung open the coffin's heavy lid, and stumbled across the low plateau the four sarcophagi stood on. Rath was already ahead of him. "Up!" Ja-Kal cried, leaping down the steps, "The Prince is in danger!"
Presley fell hard, bloodying his already battered hands. He wasted no time swinging his fist at the creature behind him. His knuckles collided with something that felt unquestionably decrepit with a sickening, muffled 'snap,' like the sound made when someone puts their foot though an only partially rotted log.
As the thing fell back, the young American resisted the almost over powering urge to be sick and leapt to his feet. Turning to momentarily face the direction he'd just come from, a white flash of lightning briefly illuminated the street before plunging the area back into shadows and darkness. The half-second of luminosity presented a ghostly scene that could have tumbled off the very pages of a Lovecraft novel. The creatures, maybe a dozen of them, glided along the ground like phantoms, their tattered robes trailing behind them lazily, moving as if under water. A cold pale fog hung around them, rolling and boiling beneath their ghastly forms. They moved with no sense of urgency or haste; they weren't in any sort of hurry.
A dark sense of despair had settled in the pit of Presley's stomach. He turned and froze. A ragged twelve foot tall, cloaked figure stood under a street lamp twenty feet ahead of him.
The dark cowl swung towards him.
He felt numb.
Presley desperately tried to tear his eyes away from the darkness inside the tattered hood, but it seemed beyond him. It began to approach him. It seemed almost smug; it had won. As it drew closer, the reincarnated prince caught a shadowy glimpse of its mouth, a stark featureless, toothless slit in a smooth, eyeless face. It reached for him, lowering its head slowly, and…
…Flung him aside abruptly, flailing around in pain. The arm of its robe was on fire. Amid the yellow tongued flames with a slim, metallic golden arrow, with a barbed head. One of Ja-Kal's arrows.
The hunter, fully armoured and bow raised, alighted down beside Presley and crouched, never taking his eyes off the street in front of him. "My Prince, are you alright?"
"Yeah, I'm fine."
"What are those things?" asked Nefer-Tina jumping out of the Hot-Ra as the vehicle came to a screeching halt in front of them.
"I'm not so sure I want to know," muttered Armon, peering at the ghostly shapes uncertainly.
The four Guardians stood in a rough circle around the reincarnated prince as the spectres, regaining courage, began to encroach on the five again. As one ventured too close, Rath lashed out at it. The scribe's sword plunged into its tattered robes with a muffled, sickly thud. The creature backed off, hissing angrily, but seemed unharmed.
"Brilliant," muttered Rath, pulling back into the circle, "Isn't that just bloody brilliant."
Another one came close, lunging at Nerfer-Tina. With a cry of surprise and fear, the charioteer flung her whip into the creature's face. Armon swung his heavy golden arm and knocked two from the air. Another caught fire as Ja-Kal loosed a second arrow.
Still they were being pressed in.
"This isn't working!" said Nefer-Tina, hiding her fear with aggravation. She stomped her foot, "It's not fair! We can't hurt them!"
"We need to get the Prince to safety," growled Ja-Kal, "On three, we'll go for the Hot-Ra." Hearing no protests, he started to count, "One…"
The ghostly monsters drew closer, becoming an almost solid wall around them.
"Two…"
Abruptly a voice somewhere in the darkness calmly stated, "Expecto patronum!"
TBC
Blah! Lame ending but I kinda got lost, eh? Anywho, sorry I took so long to update! Thanks for reviewing, Jibs! See ya soon.