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Evelyn sank back in her seat, trying not to think of poor Mr. Daniels back there and what must be happening to him. The gunshots had stopped, as had the chanting of the men caught in Imhotep's thrall. It was over now, wasn't it? Mr. Daniels was dead, and the creature was fully regenerated, and it was her fault.

Even the comforting warmth of Jonathan on one side and O'Connell on the other couldn't help her now. Whatever was going to happen, she had to make this right.

Rick was trying to think through next steps. He had been in tight spots before and lived to get out of them … but he had never before earned the personal anger of an immortal walking corpse. And he had never before had anyone to protect that he cared this much about. He could feel Evelyn shaking next to him, and he wanted to comfort her, but there was no comfort to be had. This thing could follow them onto a boat, and through the desert, and who knew how many of the elements and how many living creatures it had power over. The chances of any of them living to get to Hamunaptra, much less being able to find the book in time to kill it—

His dark thoughts were interrupted as the car slammed into a pile of barrels, water shooting up into the air at the impact.

The mob was still following them, at a run, shouting. All five of them leaped from the car, Rick turning to help Evelyn down. "Okay! Go, go!"

They were barely in front of the mob. He picked up a torch with one hand, pushing Evelyn behind him with the other. With the others dead, that thing was going to come for her, and Rick had no intention of letting her go.

He waved the torch in the mob's faces. "Back! Back!"

But there was nowhere to go. The five of them had been backed up against a building, and the mob was closing in, chanting "Imhotep".

And then they went silent, which was if anything more terrifying than the chanting, and several of them stepped to the side, allowing the risen mummy to make his way through the crowd.

He was good-looking, Evelyn had to give him that. In life, she could easily understand why the Pharaoh's concubine had chosen his priest instead. Imhotep's black robes billowed around him as he walked toward her, his compelling dark eyes fastened on her face.

Beni scurried behind him, safe in the monster's wake.

"It's the creature. He's fully regenerated," the curator said unnecessarily—they had all figured that out by now.

"Keetah mi pharos, aja nilo, isirian."

"Come with me, my princess," Beni translated. "It is time to make you mine forever."

Evelyn hadn't needed the translation. "For all eternity, idiot," she hissed.

Beni frowned, trying to decide if she was right. He was wasting his time; of course she was right.

"Koontash dai na aja nilo." Imhotep held out a hand toward her.

"Take my hand, and I will spare your friends."

Evelyn stood frozen. She didn't want to go with this man … but this was her fault. All of it. And only she could stop it.

Next to her, O'Connell snorted. He didn't think she had a choice—he thought she shouldn't go. But … it was his life on the line if she didn't. She knew he would sell himself dearly to protect her.

"Oh, dear," she said softly. "Have you got any bright ideas?"

"I'm thinking, I'm thinking."

From him, that was a no. Evelyn's decision was made for her—she would go, because she had no other choice, and because Jonathan and Rick would surely die if she didn't. And she found she couldn't bear to contemplate losing either of them. She turned to Rick. "You'd better think of something fast, because if he turns me into a mummy, you're the first one I'm coming after." She wished there was time to kiss him, time to tell him how he had turned her life upside down, how she—everything she felt for him.

But there was no time. She stepped forward toward Imhotep's outstretched hand.

Behind her, she heard the familiar sound of Rick drawing his weapon.

"No," Rick said, his voice breaking. He couldn't stand here and just let her go, just let her walk away with that—thing. Not if there was any other way.

Evelyn turned to him, her eyes desperate. "Don't!"

"No!" Ardeth Bey clutched at his arm, knowing that to shoot Imhotep now would just be a waste of ammunition.

"He still has to take me to Hamunaptra to perform the ritual," Evelyn said quickly.

"She is right. Live today, fight tomorrow."

Reluctantly, Rick listened to them. He uncocked the gun and lowered it. His whole body shook with the effort of not going over there and snatching her back. Her eyes were huge in her face, and he felt in her look everything they had never had time to say to each other. She loved him. He could see it in her. And he loved her, utterly and completely.

He looked into Imhotep's smirking face. "I'll be seeing you again," he promised.

Evelyn kept watching him over her shoulder as Imhotep led her away.

"Evelyn!" Rick surged forward, unable to control himself, and only Ardeth's strong arms held him back from getting his fool self killed.

Beni snatched something from Jonathan, even as Imhotep bellowed words Rick couldn't understand. He could guess, though, from the way Evelyn screamed and began to struggle as soon as the words were spoken, and from the way the mob started to close in on them. So much for sparing her friends. Not that Rick had ever believed that.

Stopping in front of Rick, Beni said, "Good-bye, my friend." He hurried to catch up with Imhotep even as Rick ran after him.

The mob was closing in, chanting again. Under his feet, Rick saw a manhole. Throwing his torch at the mob, he shoved the cover aside. "Come on!" He reached for Jonathan.

"What about my sister?"

"We're going to get her back. Go!" He had to. He had no other choice. If she was … hurt, he might as well die trying to save her.

The curator moved in front of the open hole, drawing his sword. Rick turned to Ardeth. "You're next! Come on! Give me your hand!"" He reached for the curator, but the man was too far away, his sword busy with the so far unresisting mob.

"You go! Go!"

Rick knew a lost cause when he saw one. Silently thanking the man for his sacrifice, he followed the others down into the depths of the sewer, leaving the curator to his fate.