Tut (15 page)

Henry nodded. “It's true. They were going to kill me. But then Tut pulled some ancient mumbo jumbo out of a bunch of scrolls.”

Tia's blue eyes widened. “You used the
Book of the Dead
again? I thought last night was a fluke.”

I didn't see any reason to mention the three spells Horus had given me. Might as well play it off. “Sure. What's the big deal?”

She looked me up and down. “It's just kind of impressive, that's all.”

“I was actually pretty impressed, too,” Henry said. “Or maybe I'm just happy to be alive.”

“Oh, come on, you guys. I'm immortal. I have powers.”

“Still,” Tia said. “The gods will talk about that for centuries.”

“Good. Now my life feels complete,” I said.

“Anyway, I was just leaving.” Tia smiled what had to be the most gorgeous smile in the world, which kind of made my head turn to mush. I saw Henry staring at her, so I elbowed him in the side.

“Wait a second,” I said. “You never told me how you knew who I was.”

“You're right.” Tia bent down to tie the lace on her combat boots, even though it didn't look like it was untied.

“So how do you know? And who are you, really? Are you related to Isis? Are you immortal?”

“So many questions,” Tia said.

“That's because you know everything there is to know about me, and I don't know anything about you.”

“And that's exactly the way I like it,” Tia said. “See ya, Boy King.” She pushed past us and strolled away.

I totally let the “boy king” comment slide, but Henry laughed. “Boy King. I forgot about that.”

“Don't you dare start saying it.”

“Yeah, right,” Henry said. “And I thought Great Pharaoh was the best nickname I'd ever heard.”

“I can't believe Tia was here,” I said. “What do you think she was doing?” I tried to keep my heart from glowing, but the whole thing was beyond annoying. Why did Tia have to be so mysterious?

“Does she know about the knife?” Henry said.

“No,” I said. “I mean, maybe.”

“Does she or doesn't she?” Henry said.

There it was. The truth. I didn't know what had happened to the scroll. She could have gotten it out of the Hall of Artifacts. And even if she couldn't read it, what if she knew someone who could? What if Isis read it for her and then gave her the knife?

“I hope not,” I said.

“Don't underestimate her just because you think she's cute.”

“Puh-lease,” I said.

Henry rolled his eyes. “What? You don't think she's cute?”

“I didn't say that,” I said. “But you do, too.”

“Your point?” he said.

“Come on,” I said, and pulled him inside. The door latched behind us. Henry and I stood in a kitchen with yellow tiled walls and a sparkling white floor. Platters of cookies cooled on the counter.

“Do you think any are chocolate chip?” Henry picked up a cookie and nibbled on it. “Because I love chocolate chip. Though I think those white macadamia nut ones are my favorites, except they have to be cooked just right. You know, where they're kind of soft and gooey on the inside and crusty on the outside. And the macadamia nuts can't be all crushed up because that's just nasty.”

“Are you serious?” Now wasn't the time for cookies. We had to find Isis. I tried to concentrate, but the stupid funeral-home jingle played over the speaker system.

Just then, a guy with the head of a baboon came around the corner.

“Hapi!” I said. Of Horus's four sons, Hapi was the only one with anything resembling responsibility.

“Tut,” His baboon face didn't change at all. Hapi showed about as much emotion as a potato. “It's been a long time.”

“If I'd known you were so close, I would've come to visit,” I said. “How come Horus never told me?”

Hapi motioned with his baboon head back in the direction he came from. “It's my granny. She's pretty reclusive.”

Crazy was a better word to describe Isis, but I opted not to mention it.

“Will she talk to us?” I asked. My scarab heart skipped a beat. What if this was a dead end? Worse yet, what if she wouldn't give me the knife? I'd have to find a way to convince her.

“Sure,” Hapi said. “She just saw your girlfriend. Why not you?”

“She's not my girlfriend,” I said. My face burned. I didn't dare look at Henry.

Henry was more interested in Hapi than in questioning whether Tia was my girlfriend or not. “Who's the monkey?” he asked.

I tensed.

Hapi bared his teeth and snapped.

Henry inched backward and his face turned as white as a freshly bandaged mummy. The whole situation made me appreciate the fact that he was even here, sticking by my side.

“Don't call him a monkey,” I whispered out of the side of my mouth. “He's a baboon. Well, just his head is. The rest of him is human.”

Henry only nodded.

Maybe Hapi was feeling generous, because he didn't tear off Henry's head, or even his ears. He gave one final snarl and then relaxed his mouth.

First Horus. Now Hapi. If Henry didn't watch it, he was going to make a bad impression on all the gods.

“This is Hapi,” I said.

“Nice to meet you,” Henry said.

Hapi ignored him. It was time to move on.

“Can you take us to her?” I asked.

“I was heading that way anyway,” Hapi said.

Hapi led us to the basement. As soon as my feet hit the last step, I knew I was in trouble. This was no regular funeral home. It was a mummification parlor. Bodies lay in open caskets all over the room, each with five Canopic jars next to them instead of four. Hooks and knives lay scattered everywhere, covered in disgusting-looking fluids. It reminded me way too much of the time Isis had threatened to use me as a lab rat. I started coughing as the smell of natron crept up my nose.

If you don't know what natron is, pray to the Egyptian god of your choice that you never have to find out. To be brief, it's the salty baking-soda powder they shove you in when they start to mummify you. Once your body hits that natron, it's all over. You stay in there until your body's shriveled into something resembling a prune, but way more leathery. But let's be straight about something. That's only the beginning. Then they pull your brains out and pulverize them.

“More visitors, Granny,” Hapi said.

I tore my eyes away from the tables of disgustingness and toward Horus's mom.

“Whoa, she's intense,” Henry whispered.

Intense
was a perfect word for Isis. She took her role as “mother goddess” seriously and made sure everything about her fit the image. Her dark hair was chopped into some curly bouffant do that stood a foot high on her head, and her lips were covered in bright-red lipstick. She wore a blue checked dress and a white apron, which looked like it was covered in the same stuff as all the knives around the room. And she patted Hapi on his baboon head like he was five.

“Thank you, my adorable grandson,” she said. “You've always been such a good boy.”

“Tell me if they bother you, Granny,” Hapi said. Then he sauntered over to one of the bodies and pulled something out. It was red and puffy and looked like it belonged in menudo. Hapi shoved it into one of the Canopic jars and reached into the body again.

“It's great to see you…” I never knew how to address Isis. She treated me like I was one of her grandsons and insisted on friendly terms. But I just couldn't see myself addressing the most powerful goddess in the world as “Granny.”

“Auntie Isis,” she said. “And dear Tut, it's been far too long.” She grabbed me in a giant hug, smearing whatever was on her apron all over me.

I gave her a half hug back. “It's been a long time, um, Auntie Isis.”

Isis had come to visit us once, when Horus and I had first moved into the town house ninety years ago. She'd nitpicked every single thing, from the color of the walls to the arrangement of the furniture, spouting some nonsense about feng shui. Horus had done everything she requested, moving coffee tables and pictures and carpets. Or at least I'd done the moving while Horus watched. But no sooner was she out that door than we'd moved everything back. And seeing as how Isis hadn't been back to visit since, we'd kept things the way we wanted. Now she looked at me like she knew what we'd done.

“Too long,” Isis said. “That rotten son of mine has kept you away, no doubt.”

“No doubt,” I said. Horus would spit up hairballs if he heard that. It was a good thing he wasn't here. “This is Henry, by the way.”

Henry was not to be spared. Isis hugged him so hard I thought Henry might throw up. Given all the dead bodies around, he was handling it pretty well.

“It's so nice to have visitors,” Isis said once she let go. “At least ones that are alive. All these corpses. They never stop coming.”

“Maybe you should get into a different business if it bothers you,” I said. After all, didn't mummification go out of style about the same time as the fall of the Roman Empire?

“Oh, I couldn't do that,” Isis said. “If I gave up the art of mummification, it could be forgotten forever.”

“And that would be a bad thing, why?” I asked. The memories of her trying to remove the piece of my brains came back full force. The world would be a much happier place with no more mummification.

Isis trilled as she laughed, like she was singing a song. “You've always had such a good sense of humor. Now to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

Yes, I was here about the knife, but first …

“What was that girl Tia doing here?” I asked. “How do you know her?”

Please don't let Isis say the knife.

Isis
tsked
in disapproval. “I don't think you received a proper invitation to that conversation, now did you?”

Right. Crazy and well-mannered. That was Auntie Isis.

“Was it about the knife?” I asked.

Isis's entire façade fell. Her skin drained of color, and the smile that had been plastered on her powdered face turned into shock and displeasure.

“The knife?” she whispered.

I nodded. I had to force myself not to take a step backward and run out of this place.

“Do you know which one I'm talking about?” I asked.

“Oh dear,” Isis said. “I've tried for so long not to think about it.”

“Why not?” Henry stopped chewing his cookie, and the already cold air filled us with a chill.

I guess this is where maybe I should have given this whole meeting a little more thought. Because this was the knife that had killed Isis's husband, Osiris, after all.

“Do you know what Set did with the knife?” Isis asked. Her eyes glazed over, almost as if she were talking to herself.

I nodded, but it didn't stop her from continuing.

“He crafted it from pure gold and imbued it with spells that he claimed would bring glorious times to the world. Somehow he managed to have each one of the gods, myself included, bless it. He tricked us. And it became the most powerful weapon in existence. And then, when my husband, Osiris, was celebrating the peace of the world, Set deceived him, using the knife to cut him into fourteen pieces and scattering them around the world.”

“I'm sorry,” I said. Isis's eyes filled with tears. I remembered how I'd felt when I'd found out my father had died. In that moment I would have done anything to bring him back from the dead. Isis was no different.

“I found the pieces,” Isis went on. “And I bandaged them together, giving my husband a proper burial.”

Osiris had been the first mummy ever. The whole mummification craze started with him.

“And then I found the knife and swore revenge,” Isis said, wiping her tears as her eyes filled with fire.

“But you never got revenge. Why not? If you've had the knife this long, how have you never found a way to use it against Set?” It's not like I was trying to be critical, but we were talking about thousands of years here. I was going to kill Horemheb within the week.

Isis's face hardened. “Because Ra sided against me. He said the violence had to end.”

Ra was arguably the most powerful of the Egyptian gods.

“But you had the knife,” I said.

“Ra said I was crazy. Me! Can you believe it?”

Yes, I could believe it. Next to me, Henry cleared his throat.

“And he took it away,” Isis said.

Wait, what? Isis didn't have the knife?

“So Ra has it?” My body sagged. Here I was, so close to revenge. And now it was all going to fall apart. Finding Ra would be impossible. Nobody knew where he was or if he even still existed.

“No, dear Tut. Ra doesn't have it.”

“Then where is it?” I asked, and a sliver of hope returned.

“Ra gave it to a protector,” Isis said.

“What protector?” I asked. What god could be trusted with the weapon? They all rated on the crazy scale.

Isis took out a tube of lipstick from the pocket in her apron and reapplied it. And then she smoothed her poufy hair.

“What protector?” I repeated. “Who has the knife, Auntie Isis?”

“Gilgamesh,” Isis said. “He's had it for ages.”

 

12

WHERE I SUMMON SWARMS OF INSECTS

“Gil has the knife?”

I couldn't believe it. That was impossible. He wouldn't lie to me. Not for all these years. Sure, he was overprotective, but he wouldn't take it this far.

“Of course,” Isis said. “Gilgamesh is the perfect protector.”

I tried to clear my head, but it was futile. This just couldn't be real.

“Please tell me this is a joke.” I leaned against the wall, wishing I could snap my fingers and make this whole week start again. The field trip had kicked off one disaster after another in an unending chain. My five shabtis formed their protective stance around me as Isis's words sunk in.