Simon felt the box thump from the inside. His stomach twisted at the sound of Mrs. Mansfield’s voice. “Kate, you might wish to have Mr. Clover step back.”
“You will all be dead soon,” Mrs. Mansfield croaked in a low voice. “I have been searching this city, waiting for his call. He can sense the rise of the new god and he longs for blood.” She moved one hand slowly toward her veil and lifted it up over her head. Her face was blue and her skin deeply wrinkled. Nephthys. The demon queen lowered her head and took a step back.
Earth exploded and filled the air around Simon. Huge shapes rose up so close they slammed against him with their scaly bodies. Before he could speak, clawed hands slashed. He was pummeled one way and another, feeling battered as if he had fallen between two galloping horses. He crashed into the stone wall. The high columns of crates and boxes began to collapse and split open. White marble heads tumbled over him, cracking against his skull. Simon saw stars and felt nausea rising. His vision was lost under a collapse of antiquities and his ears rang with thundering vibrations.
Simon gathered his wits and spoke his runic strength into life. He pushed himself up. The crushing weight on his back held him down. He took a deep breath and shoved again, slowly creaking up through crates and planks and marble. He felt the cool air wash over him and wreckage fell away from his shoulders.
He struggled over the uneven landscape, slipping and falling, toward the corner where he had last seen Kate and Thomas. The shelves were still against the wall but crates and display cases leaned against them. Simon started pulling objects away, throwing them back into the center of the cellar. He seized what appeared to be a mummy case and lifted it.
Kate’s face looked up from beneath it. She blinked against the dust that drifted down into her eyes and stared up at Simon holding the massive sarcophagus over his head.
“Thank God.” He breathed and set the mummy case aside. “Are you badly injured? Anything broken?”
“I don’t think so.” She turned her head slightly. “Thomas, you?”
The curator’s dirty face appeared under her shoulder. “I think I’m alive. What about Mrs. Mansfield?”
Blood dripped from jagged wounds across Simon’s body. He lifted Kate and set her on her feet. He then reached down and pulled Thomas up. He patted the curator on the shoulder, then glanced toward the shelf where the ebony box had been. It was clear of wreckage. Most of the objects that had been there were still present, except for the container.
Kate reached into her satchel, scrabbling for vials, and kicking debris out of the way. She looked around the dark cellar, searching for attackers, and handed an elixir vitae to Simon.
“She’s gone. She didn’t want to kill us this time. She just wanted the Skin. Mind where you step, the chnoubis have left a mess.” Simon stared down into one of the many large holes dug out of the cellar floor. “God help us. Nephthys has the Skin of Ra.”
Thomas sat on the overturned marble head of a Roman emperor with his own head in his hands. “What do I tell my directors? I might lose my position.”
“We might all lose our positions, Mr. Clover.” Simon drained the elixir and dropped to one knee.
Chapter Twenty-four
Malcolm scratched in irritation at his hands. It wasn’t that they itched, but the thought of the magic under his flesh unnerved him. Things he had sworn he would never allow were now commonplace since he had joined Simon’s band of magic knights in shining armor. From letting a werewolf live to taking alchemical elixirs to allowing Simon to inscribe him. He swore he could feel the aether moving around under his skin. Simon had inscribed everyone’s hands with temporary marks that allowed a simple signal to be sent to the entire group warning them that the final event was about to occur at St. Mary Woolnoth and for everyone to converge on the church.
Penny didn’t seem fazed by it. Her hands played nonchalantly with the elaborate equipment on her head as she crouched with him behind a hedge. They were inside the wall surrounding the mansion leased by Ambassador Mansfield. It was on a park-sized bit of land east of London proper. The spying pair was distant enough from the house not to be noticed among the foliage, but close enough to keep an eye on arrivals and departures. It wasn’t a particularly imposing manor, but there was an odd glass structure attached to the rear. It was a huge greenhouse as high as the mansion itself but constructed of darkened glass that reflected the fading sun.
The petite engineer was dressed in pants and a worn leather jacket that covered a white linen shirt. Her hair was pulled back and braided. She wore a pair of goggles she had modified just like the telescopic sight on Malcolm’s now-defunct rifle. She scanned the windows of the sprawling home for movement, of which there hadn’t been any for hours. Bored, she absently reached for another sandwich only to find that they were gone. Shoving the goggles up on her brow, Penny glanced down and then up at Malcolm.