Theodosia & the Eyes of Horus (3 page)

27

wasn't my decision. It was up to Lord Wigmere, head of the Brotherhood of the Chosen Keepers.

"Then you'll put in a good word wif Wiggy next time you see 'im, won't you?"

Somehow, I didn't think a group of men dedicated to protecting their country from the influence of ancient magic and curses would give two figs about the Alcazar Theater or penny-show magicians. However, I promised that I would talk to Wigmere, then left Will to his brothers and began walking back to the museum.

My mind whirred frantically, trying to puzzle out just who exactly Awi Bubu was. I suppose it was possible that ancient Egyptian rituals were common knowledge among Egyptians. Except that was one of the things that were so exciting about archaeology; it unlocked the secrets to the past, secrets that even the Egyptians themselves had forgotten about their history, so that explanation didn't really work. It seemed more likely that he was simply unwilling to confess that he was a member of the Black Sun. Or, I thought, my steps slowing, perhaps he was a plant for the Serpents of Chaos. They also knew quite a lot about Egyptian magic. And were dedicated to using it to plunge our world into, well, chaos.

As I turned the corner off Phoenix Road, I detected a flicker of movement nearby, and then a man fell into step

28

behind me. I thought it was Gerton, but I couldn't be sure. Either way, it wasn't good news.

Half a block later, another man stepped out of a recessed doorway as I passed. I kept my eyes in front of me and pretended I hadn't seen him. If I ignored them, perhaps I'd make it back to the museum without a confrontation.

However, when Basil Whiting, Trawley's second in command, stepped out of an alley and leaned up against a lamppost, effectively cutting off that avenue of escape, it became clear that not only had the scorpions found me, but they weren't about to let me pretend otherwise.

29

CHAPTER THREE SCORPIONS ON THE LOOSE

***

BOTHER . I had hoped to avoid another meeting with the supreme master of the Arcane Order of the Black Sun for a while longer. Say, a lifetime. In fact, that's why it had taken so long for Will to coax me out to the Alcazar to see Awi Bubu; I'd been trying to avoid Trawley. He was mad as a hatter and convinced I was a reincarnation of Isis and had mystical powers. Of course, that was all nonsense, but even so, he had a nasty habit of snatching me off the street.

Whiting stepped away from the lamppost and sauntered in my direction. He hesitated as a black carriage turned down the street and then drove past. Just as he started to

30

move again, the carriage pulled sharply against the curb, merely a few feet in front of Whiting.

Oh dear, not reinforcements,
I thought. Surely three grown men against one eleven-year-old girl were good enough odds for them. Wait a minute. I knew that carriage. It was spotlessly clean and shiny, unmarked black; it belonged to the Brotherhood of the Chosen Keepers. The door opened, and a worn, familiar face with a thick white mustache and solemn blue eyes looked out at me. "Theodosia?"

"Lord Wigmere!" My voice caught on a faint sob of relief as I hightailed it over to the carriage, giving Whiting a wide berth.

"What on earth are you doing in this part of town, child?"

"Attending a magic show," I explained, looking longingly inside the carriage.

"Here, get in. This isn't a safe neighborhood for a young girl to be wandering alone. Danger seems to find you easily enough without compounding the problem by being careless."

"It's not my fault, sir. Trouble does seem inclined to follow me around," I said as I hopped into the carriage, settled myself on the opposite seat, and smoothed my skirts to hide the trembling in my hands. That had been close. "Thank you, sir."

I thought briefly of mentioning the scorpions following me, but I didn't want to bring on another scolding. Besides,

31

he had told me a while ago that they were harmless. Annoying, but harmless.

Wigmere rapped on the ceiling with his cane, and the carriage lurched forward. Although he was impeccably dressed in his frock coat and top hat, he looked older than he had the last time I'd seen him. More careworn. "I wouldn't have thought you were interested in parlor tricks and magic," he said.

In for a penny, in for a pound. "It was because of Will, sir. He'd located a rather suspicious Egyptian magic show and wanted to see what I thought of it."

Wigmere snorted through his mustache. "That boy! He has no idea what we're up against. He thinks he's landed in a penny dreadful and is having a grand adventure."

"It was an unusual magic show, sir."

"Bah!"

"And Will
was
extraordinarily helpful with the
Dreadnought
situation," I reminded him. "I could never have pulled it off without his aid."

"Nevertheless," Wigmere said. "This isn't a game, and I won't have him treating it as such. Too much is at stake. Your safety included."

"Yes, sir." Well, I'd tried.

"Speaking of the
Dreadnought
...did Fagenbush give you the news about Bollingsworth and the others?"

32

"No, sir, he didn't," I said.

Wigmere cleared his throat. "Well, the good news is our doctors from Level Six were able to stabilize Bollingsworth's condition. It will take a while, but he will recover from the curse he got from that rope of yours."

"And then what will happen to him?"

"Then we'll toss him into our deepest, darkest prison and throw away the key."

"What's the bad news?" I have learned that when someone starts out with the good news, bad news is certain to follow.

"Unfortunately, there has been no sign of the men who escaped the
Dreadnought.
The Brotherhood has searched high and low, to no avail. I'm afraid they have gotten clean away."

My heart sank. "It would be so lovely if just once they could all get locked up," I said.

"I agree. But having them on the loose is just one more reason it is so important for you to be careful. You and Will are children, and as such, I feel an extra responsibility to keep you safe. All the operatives that I can spare are out searching for the Serpents of Chaos. Even so, one of their agents could easily follow Will to your arranged meeting place and nab you both. It is even more important than ever that you put aside your dislike of Fagenbush and begin following instructions. Speaking of which, he has yet to bring me a report from you."

33

I squirmed, wretchedly uncomfortable. "Well, you see, sir, he really doesn't care to deal with me--"

"Nonsense. He'll deal with whom he's instructed to deal. There is no room for personal animosity within the Brotherhood, Theodosia. Our mission is too critical for such petty concerns." His piercing blue eyes bored into me, as if searching out any flaw or selfishness.

"Yes, sir," I murmured, relieved that the Museum of Legends and Antiquities had just come into view.

"Excellent." Wigmere nodded, his face relaxing. "Then I'll expect to receive regular reports on your progress from Fagenbush."

The carriage rolled to a stop across the street from the museum. It wouldn't do to have anyone see Wigmere and me together.

"Thank you for the lift, sir."

"You're most welcome, and do try to stay out of unsavory neighborhoods, would you?"

"Yes, sir." I hopped out of the carriage and made my way across the street. While I was most grateful for the rescue from the Black Sunners, I really could have done without the sharp reminder to work with Fagenbush. Even though I had recently discovered he was one of the Chosen Keepers (what had they been thinking?), I still tried to ignore him whenever possible.

34

***

Once back in the museum, I decided to search out my parents and see if they'd wondered where I'd got to. They weren't in the private family withdrawing room we kept here at the museum or in the staff withdrawing room. Their offices were empty too, so I went up to their workroom on the third floor. I paused at the door, listening.

"I don't know why you think it's hopeless," Mother was saying. "I'm sure we can appeal to Maspero and get a second hearing. Surely Davis isn't the last word on the subject."

My ears perked up. They were talking about their work in the Valley of the Kings.

"You put more faith in the workings of the Cairo Antiquities Service than I do, Henrietta. I doubt we'll get help from that quarter."

"But it was our discovery ..." Mum muttered, then fell silent.

The good news was that they hadn't noticed I was gone. The bad news was, well, they hadn't even missed me. Their lack of attention used to bother me, but I'd learned to accept it as something of a blessing. It allowed me to take care of business without having to answer all sorts of awkward questions.

And there was quite a lot of business to take care of.

35

There were at least two curses, possibly three, down in Receiving. I had to get them removed before the new exhibit opened. We couldn't risk cursing untold numbers of museum visitors. It would be bad for business!

Having located my parents, I went to my own little room in the museum. It was actually more like a rather large closet, but it made me feel better to think of it as a room. Once there, I slipped out of my coat and put on a pinafore, then tugged off my dress gloves and replaced them with a pair of sturdier ones. Next I checked to be sure all three amulets were still safely around my neck. Satisfied that I was as protected as could be, I fetched my curse-removing kit from the cupboard and made my way to Receiving.

Luckily, it was Sunday, so neither Dolge nor Sweeny, the museum's two hired hands, were about and I had the entire receiving area to myself. I quickly got to work.

There had been a shocking number of cursed artifacts among the antiquities Mum had brought back with her a few short months ago. I didn't remember ever seeing so many in one batch.

The first object on my list was a basketful of black rocks carved to look like grain. I had discovered this curse by accident one day when I'd gone into the staff room to fix myself a jam sandwich and had found the loaf of bread full of bugs. When I looked closely, I saw that they weren't ordinary bugs

36

but teensy-tiny scarab beetles. I followed the thin trail of them all the way back to the staging area. Honestly! It was hard enough to get any food around here with my parents as preoccupied as they were with their work; I did not need curses mucking up what little food there was.

This particular curse had required oodles of research, and I had found only one similar curse listed in T. R. Nectanebus's
Hidden Egypt: Magic, Alchemy, and the Occult.
I'd had to adjust the recipe to suit my needs.

I set my carpetbag down and rifled through my supplies until I found my mortar and pestle, a jar of honey, a small sack of dirt, and a pillbox Grandmother had tossed in the rubbish bin. The primary ingredient of the recipe was honey, because one of the principles in Egyptian magic is that demons abhor things that we humans love, such as sweets. It was a common method of driving demonic spirits and black magic away, using sweets.

I poured the honey into the mortar, then added the measure of dirt. There was a tickling sensation at the back of my neck, as if someone had blown on it. I whirled around. "Who's there?" My voice wavered as the fine hairs at my nape still tingled.

Even though there was no one in sight, I was certain I was being watched. I peered into the shadowy corners of the room, but nothing moved.

37

With my shoulder blades itching, I held my nose and opened the pillbox. Nectanebus's recipe called for swallow droppings, but I hadn't been able to find any of those. However, there was a large flock of pigeons that often roosted near the museum, so I'd scraped their droppings into the pillbox. (Yet another reason it is so important to wear heavy-duty gloves when conducting magic!)

Using a bit of stick, I scraped all the droppings into the mortar, then ground everything together with the pestle. Last, I took a piece of bread and crumbled it into the honey-and-dropping mixture. Nectanebus claimed that using the honey, bread crumbs, and dung together would redirect the cursed miniature scarabs from the bread to the dung. One could only hope.

I dumped the grain-shaped rocks out onto the table and smeared the mixture in the bottom of the basket, as instructed. Then I put all the grain back in the basket, and that was that. I had only to wait for three days, and the curse would be permanently removed. Either that or Receiving would stink to high heaven.

I felt a chill on my shoulders and turned around again, thinking Mum or Dad had wandered down to check on me. But there was still no one there, and no open door to account for a draft. Uneasy, I quickly carried the grain basket to where it had been and then put the empty jars and bags