The Mummy or Ramses the Damned

THE MUMMY reaches its dazzling conclusion in the same manner as Rice’s vampire books: with the promise of more to come. Long live the Mummy!”

Boston Herald

“Rice’s disturbing novels provoke thought as well as entertain.”

Chicago Tribune

“Rice succeeds masterfully in blending horror and romance.… Ramses is a fascinating character, heroic yet tragically flawed by his human desires.”

Atlanta Journal

“A typical Rice tale combining sensuous romance with a historical angle, adding a dash of the macabre … It should keep you up nights until you’ve finished, then you will stay awake hoping for a sequel.”

Dallas Times Herald

“A good story, part romance novel, part horror story, part mini-course in Egyptology … A handsome, mesmerizing monster.”

St. Louis Post-Dispatch

“Rice is undeniably gifted and her characters are always compelling.”

The Cincinnati Enquirer

“She’s done it again.… With Rice’s lush writing, a world where the unusual seems normal springs to life.… If you liked her vampire trilogy, you’ll be enthralled with her visit to Egypt’s legends.”

Palm Beach Post

“THE MUMMY is superior to Rice’s vampire [novels].”

Rocky Mountain News

“Fascinating … Anne Rice creates a mummy that is altogether new and different.… The mythological realm of eternal life is where Rice does her most fascinating work.”

The Des Moines Register

“As one might expect from a master storyteller, Rice’s mummy is no ordinary, garden-variety preserved Egyptian.… THE MUMMY takes us beyond our ordinary associations with such things, into her fresh re-vision of old ideas.”

The New Orleans Times-Picayune

“Extraordinary … Filled with horror, suspense, and romance, THE MUMMY literally pulses with excitement and imagination. Subtly erotic and definitely descriptive, this is Rice’s most exciting work to date.”

Henderson Dispatch
(North Carolina)

A Very Special Thanks

to

Frank Konigsberg

and

Larry Sanitsky

for their enthusiastic encouragement
in connection with
The Mummy
and for their contribution
to the development of the story.

HE CAMERA flashes blinded him for a moment. If only he could get the photographers away.

But they had been at his side for months now—ever since the first artifacts had been found in these barren hills, south of Cairo. It was as if they too had known. Something about to happen. After all these years, Lawrence Stratford was on to a major find.

And so they were there with the cameras, and the smoking flashes. They almost knocked him off balance as he made his way into the narrow rough-hewn passage towards the letters visible on the half-uncovered marble door.

The twilight seemed to darken suddenly. He could see the letters, but he couldn’t make them out.

“Samir,” he cried. “I need light.”

“Yes, Lawrence.” At once the torch exploded behind him, and in a flood of yellow illumination, the slab of stone was wonderfully visible. Yes, hieroglyphs, deeply etched and beautifully gilded, and in Italian marble. He had never seen such a sight.

He felt the hot silky touch of Samir’s hand on his as he began to read aloud:

“ ‘Robbers of the Dead, Look away from this tomb lest you wake its occupant, whose wrath cannot be contained. Ramses the Damned is my name.’ ”

He glanced at Samir. What could it mean?

“Go on, Lawrence, translate, you are far quicker than I am,” Samir said.

“ ‘Ramses the Damned is my name. Once Ramses the Great of Upper and Lower Egypt; Slayer of the Hittites, Builder of Temples; Beloved of the People; and immortal guardian of the kings and queens of Egypt throughout time. In the year of the death of the Great Queen Cleopatra, as Egypt becomes a Roman province, I commit myself to eternal darkness; beware, all those who would let the rays of the sun pass through this door.’ ”

“But it makes no sense,” Samir whispered. “Ramses the Great ruled one thousand years before Cleopatra.”

“Yet these are nineteenth-dynasty hieroglyphs without question,” Lawrence countered. Impatiently, he scratched away at the loose rubble. “And look, the inscription’s repeated—in Latin and in Greek.” He paused, then quickly read the last few Latin lines.

“ ‘Be Warned: I sleep as the earth sleeps beneath the night sky or the winter’s snow; and once awakened, I am servant to no man.’ ”

For a moment Lawrence was speechless, staring at the words he’d read. Only vaguely did he hear Samir:

“I don’t like it. Whatever it means, it’s a curse.”

Reluctantly Lawrence turned and saw that Samir’s suspicion had turned to fear.

“The body of Ramses the Great is in the Cairo Museum,” Samir said impatiently.

“No,” Lawrence answered. He was aware of a chill moving slowly up his neck. “There’s
a
body in the Cairo Museum, but it’s not Ramses! Look at the cartouches, the seal! There was no one in the time of Cleopatra who could even write the ancient hieroglyphs. And these are perfect—and done like the Latin and the Greek with infinite care.”