Anubis Nights (14 page)

“Brand, there’s a ghost walking toward us,” Esther said.

Brand didn’t know how to respond to Esther without seeming odd, and he didn’t really care if there were ghosts on the train, provided they were harmless. Most ghosts had no power. “The waiter called you Miss Scarlet.”

“Never married,” she said. “The love of my life died when I was thirty-two. Edward was an amazing man, and while I met many other men, they were all lacking that special something that Edward had.”

“What are you looking at?” Esther said.

Brand wanted to glance at her to see where she was looking, but he kept his gaze on Priscilla. “I can relate,” he said. “I broke up with an amazing woman recently, and I don’t know that any other woman will make me feel the way she did.”

“Oh, where is she?”

“She’s what you might call ‘ancient history,’ so let’s talk about something else.”

“I understand,” Priscilla said. She pulled a pocket watch from her purse and wound it up. It was much smaller than the watch Chronos had, but Brand still tensed a bit when he saw it.

“I don’t like the way you look either,” Esther said.

Brand knew she was talking to the ghost, but he knew he needed to act normal, so he tried to tune Esther out.

The waiter returned with a pot of coffee. He poured a cup for Priscilla and one for Brand but then poured a third and set it on the other side of the table as if someone might be joining them.

“Thank you, Stanley.”

“You’re very welcome, Miss Scarlet. Have you decided on breakfast?”

“Eggs and bacon, a muffin and butter.”

“The same,” Brand said.

“And for Edward?”

“Make it three,” Priscilla said.

“For Edward?” Brand asked when the waiter left.

“I like to pretend my love is still with me,” she said. “As I’m wealthy, the staff considers me eccentric.”

“So you’re Edward,” Esther said. “Does this lady know you’re still pining for her after all this time?”

“How long have you been on the train?” Brand asked.

She laughed. “Oh, I live here.”

“You live on the train?”

“This is where Edward died, so this is where I live.” She kept twisting the knob on the pocket watch.

“He died on the train, and you never got off again?”

“I have a house in New York, but I rarely spend more than a week or two per year there. I prefer to ride the train and pretend Edward is still with me. He was a handsome man, so full of life.” She flipped open the watch to reveal a black-and-white photograph inside featuring a younger version of Priscilla with a young, bearded man. “This was taken by Joseph Draper in New York back in 1843. This was the first and last image of me with Edward.”

She passed the watch over to Brand, and as soon as the metal touched his skin, he could see Edward sitting at the table with them. Brand flinched but recovered quickly.

“He sees me,” Edward said.

“I see you,” Brand said with a nod.

“Don’t be silly,” Priscilla said. “I’m the only one who can—I mean . . .”

“Don’t sweat it, Priscilla. Edward isn’t the first ghost I’ve seen.”

“How can you see him?” Priscilla asked.

At the same instant, Edward asked, “How can you see me?”

“My guess is that the pocket watch was yours,” Brand said to Edward.

The ghost nodded. “Family heirloom. I’ve owned it for many years.”

Brand set the watch on the table, and sure enough, he could no longer see Edward, but when he touched it again, Edward was visible.

“As long as I’m touching the watch, I can see and hear you,” Brand said.

“But how is that even possible?”

Brand was tempted to sing a verse about magic from “Frosty the Snowman,” but as with so many things, the song wasn’t around in 1877, so he just said, “Residual magic.”

“In the watch?”

Brand laughed. “In me.”

Edward and Priscilla shared a look. Then Priscilla shook her head. “Magic?”

“Long story,” Brand said. “Let’s just say that I’m eccentric too.”

“While you’re at the table, perhaps you should put the watch in your shirt pocket so Edward can join in our conversation,” Priscilla said.

“Sounds like a plan,” Brand said. He tucked the watch into his breast pocket and nodded because he could still see Edward.

“There’s another ghost here,” Edward said. “A woman. An incredibly rude woman.”

Esther blew a raspberry at him.

Brand looked around. “I don’t see anyone else,” he lied.

“She’s right there,” Edward said, pointing at her.

“Well, you’re not the only person who died and had their spirit hang around. As long as she doesn’t do anything, I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“I don’t like you,” Esther said.

“I don’t like you either,” Edward said.

“Ghosts are mostly harmless,” Priscilla said. “Edward, just ignore her. And Miss Ghost, whoever you are, I’m sorry you died, but please leave us in peace.”

“And if you can hear us,” Brand said, “please stop aggravating Edward.”

The waiter brought the food. He placed a plate before each of them, including Edward, though he clearly didn’t see the ghost.

Brand took a bite of the eggs. They were delicious. He pointed his fork at Edward’s plate. “So, Priscilla, do you eat Edward’s food or is it fair game?”

She laughed. “You can have it if you’re still hungry when you finish your meal.”

Brand practically inhaled his food. He swapped his empty plate for Edward’s food.

“Don’t you chew?” Priscilla asked.

“My old boss was a big fan of Napoleon Bonaparte,” Brand said. “Napoleon allowed five minutes to eat, and when he was finished, everyone was finished. As my boss used the same tactic, I learned to eat fast.”

“Were you a soldier?”

Rather than say he was a magically engineered assassin, Brand simply nodded.

“You must have been a teenager during the war. I trust you fought for the North.”

Brand grinned. “I fought for the folks who paid me.”

Brand finished the second meal and noticed Edward staring at him.

“Problem?” Brand asked.

“No, I simply haven’t seen anyone eat that much that fast before.”

“So . . . how did you die?” Brand asked. “Or is that a rude question?”

Edward shook his head. “Let’s just say violently and leave it at that for now. I really don’t want to think about it, and Priscilla is eating.”

“No sweat,” Brand said. “I should probably get back to my compartment and leave you two lovebirds alone.” He dug for his wallet and pulled out some bills.

Priscilla slapped his hand. “Your money is no good here.” She smiled. “Will you join us for lunch?”

Brand shrugged. “I’d like that. Nice meeting you both.”

“Likewise,” Edward said.

Brand slid the watch back to Priscilla. He rose, thanked her for breakfast, and went back to his compartment. Esther hung back fifteen feet so she could glare at Edward.

Priscilla watched Brand leave then smiled at Edward. “I think he’s the one.”

Esther caught up to Brand. “Oh yes, she definitely likes you.”

RAYNA NOBLE

Lincoln Parker walked with Rayna into the morgue at Bellevue. Rayna didn’t know what to expect. The reception desk was unmanned, and a sweet, rotten aroma drifted into the hallway. They moved into the larger room, where slabs stood in two rows along the walls with metal embalming units at the foot of each table. Eight of the tables held dead bodies. Rayna could smell the formaldehyde mixed with the familiar smell of death. The floor was filthy and bloodstained. Most of the light came from large windows.

“Hello?” Lincoln called.

“Be right there,” a voice said.

“This is the oldest public hospital in the country,” Lincoln said, leaning against the wall.

“I’m not sure how that matters,” Rayna said. She kept thinking about Jonathan, and that made her miss him more with each passing moment. She needed something to distract her, so she hoped finding Winslow would be enough.

Lincoln shrugged. “Just making conversation.”

“I’m more interested in finding Winslow.”

“And I’m about to prove to you that he’s dead as Rudolph Valentino. He’s either on one of these tables or he’s in a wooden box in the next room.”

The attendant pushed through the doors and approached them. He wore a dark, stained apron over a button-down shirt. He wiped his hands on the apron but did not offer to shake hands. “Sorry, it’s been a nightmare today. What can I help you with?”

“I’m Agent Parker,” Lincoln said, flashing his Pinkerton badge. “We’re here to take a look at the body of Henry Winslow.”

“That won’t be happening,” the attendant said.

“It’s all right,” Lincoln said, holding up a five-dollar note. “We just need to verify his identity.”

“It’s not about the money. I’d be happy to show you the body, but I can’t do it.”

“Why not?”

“Because it isn’t here.”

“Did relatives pick it up? The funeral isn’t until early next week.”

“I suspect they’ll be burying an empty casket.” The attendant leaned forward and looked both Rayna and Lincoln in the eyes. “The body is missing.”

“What do you mean, missing?”

“I mean it’s not here. Disappeared yesterday afternoon. Ol’ Everett must have been nipping the bottle because he swears that when he went to raise a vein to start the embalming process, Winslow sat up, asked for his clothes, and walked out of here on his own two feet.”

CHAPTER TEN

JONATHAN SHADE

Ankhesenamun entered our residence behind her servant Tuya.

“We must talk,” Ankhesenamun said.

Kelly and I joined her under the colonnade while Tuya went to get drinks. My knee, back, and neck were killing me. My shoulder burned with pain, and my head felt as if Neil Peart were performing a drum solo on my skull.

“How is Tutankhamun?” I asked.

“Not well,” Ankhesenamun said. “The magicians are tending to him, but he was badly injured.”

Kelly nodded. “We’re very sorry,” she said. “Is there anything we can do to help?”

Ankhesenamun hesitated. “Did either of you see what happened?”

“Somebody threw a spear or a staff from a window,” I said.

“It was a spear,” Kelly said. “I couldn’t see who threw it.”

“That begs the question, who would want to hurt or kill your husband?” I said.

“The people adore him, so it must be someone in the inner circle.”

“Who stands to gain?” I asked. Naturally I was thinking of Aye and Horemheb. It seemed pretty obvious to me.

“I must warn you that Aye is blaming you.”

“Really?”

“He insists that my husband would not have held the chariot race had you not been here. That is not true. Tutankhamun has been planning the race for several days.”

“We’re the outsiders,” Kelly said. “We’re easy scapegoats if the inner circle is in on it. Even if they’re not, it’s easier to blame us than to look for the real attacker.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” I said.

“Sure it does. Aye thinks we set up the attack and made sure we could crash into Tutankhamun’s chariot.”

“But we could have been killed.”

“But we weren’t seriously injured, so that makes us look guilty.”

“And if we’d died, we’d be seen as kamikazes.”

“I don’t know what you just said,” Ankhesenamun said.

“Sorry. We’d have seemed like we were willing to die for the cause.”

“I know you were not involved,” she said.

“Thanks.”

“Can you help my husband?” Ankhesenamun asked.

“I don’t know that there’s anything we can do,” I said. “We don’t have healing powers.”

“Please try to help.”

What could I say to that? I shrugged. “We’ll do what we can.”

Tuya returned with the beer.

“The magicians say your magic is powerful,” Ankhesenamun said when Tuya moved off.

I sipped my beer. I still didn’t like the taste, but it did have a good kick to it. “Different kind of magic,” I said since I didn’t want to admit that we had no magic. We needed to seem useful.

“Your wife is an amazing warrior.”

“The best,” I said.

“If someone in the court tried to kill my husband, they may try to kill me too.”

“Why would they do that?” Kelly asked.

“To take the throne.”

“Do you have children?” I asked.

Ankhesenamun frowned and shook her head. “We tried. We had two daughters, but they were stillborn. There are no male heirs. If Tutankhamun dies, I will be the last of the royal bloodline. The people still hate my father, so it is possible the priests want me to go west as well. We’ve done much to placate them, and I thought they were satisfied, but Aye says they won’t be pleased until we’ve passed into the afterlife.”

I nodded. “You’re talking like this is a life-and-death situation. Tutankhamun was hurt but you don’t think he’s going to die from a broken leg, do you?”

Kelly said, “Malaria. I saw a documentary a few years ago.”

“I do not understand,” Ankhesenamun said.

“Has your husband been ill?” I asked.

“The gods have been punishing him for our father’s actions, but he was feeling better.”

If he had malaria, the broken leg could easily get infected. That infection could definitely kill him. I knew he died young, but I certainly didn’t expect to be there when it happened. In my time, I figured some good drugs and a hospital stay would get him up and running, but unless they had real healers here, he’d have a rough go of it.

Kelly set her beer down. “If they want to take the throne, wouldn’t it make more sense to marry you? That way they’d have a legitimate claim because you’re of royal blood.”

“I will not marry a commoner.”

“You should be at your husband’s side,” Kelly said.

“The magicians don’t want anyone to interrupt them. They are trying to save him.”

We kept Ankhesenamun company for the evening. She was a lovely and intelligent woman. We talked about life in Thebes and how the people loved Tut because he reinstated the old gods after his father had made the switch to monotheism. The Egyptians seemed to have gods for everything. Amun, Anubis, Apis, Aten, Ahti, Ash, Anti, and that doesn’t even get us out of the As.