“You were born in 1713. Now, I admit, you’ve got a fine figure for a woman of your age, but I know you’re the fifth Nephthys. So stop acting like some kind of old pharaoh come to life.”
Nephthys ignored him. She took a position at the altar and dropped the cloak from her shoulders. The woman stood naked. She was well formed, a bit plump, with disconcerting azure flesh. Mansfield looked at her without interest as she lifted the lid of the ebony chest. “You witness the birth of Ra at your own peril.”
Malcolm studied her naked form but only to confirm there was no glowing dragonscale flitting over her. She was not wearing her protective necklace. The time had come.
Mansfield staggered drunkenly across the sandy floor and clambered up onto the dais with heavy grunts. Nephthys kept her head held high in a worshipful poise, facing the altar. The chnoubis shivered ominously. Nephthys nodded at them and the snake-creatures settled.
A pistol shot rang loud in the chamber and Nephthys gasped as a bullet struck her in the chest. Blood sprayed over Mansfield’s white shirt. He spun about, showing a long dagger in his hand and a look of surprise on his face.
Nephthys didn’t scream; she groaned, almost in pleasure. Blood dribbled down over her stomach. Her legs quivered. She leaned forward to let a stream of blood trickle from the tip of her breast into the wooden box.
Malcolm stepped from hiding, and the chamber echoed with roaring pistols and filled with clouds of smoke. The chnoubis’ bodies jerked wildly in the hail of bullets. Mansfield leapt for the floor.
Malcolm then heard a strange guttural tongue reverberate through the room. Nephthys’s mouth was moving, but the voice seemed to be emanating from the ebony chest. The air in the chamber became suddenly arid and hot like a true Egyptian desert. Something appeared at the rim of the box.
A small white snake.
No, he realized. It was a ragged strip of cloth curling out of the box, up into the air, as if alive. It was linen such as used to wrap a mummy. Both sides of the yellowish cloth were covered in hieroglyphs that seemed to glow with a dim light. It rose on its own power several feet over the waiting Nephthys. It quivered, then it started to pour over her naked body like a stream of water from a fountain. It slithered along her arms and legs, fluttering as if caught in a desert whirlwind.
Malcolm continued his barrage. Penny stood beside him, firing with her smaller four-barreled pistol. Lead balls seemed to pass around the swirling aura, smashing the temple walls and columns behind Nephthys. The flashing linen tightened around the woman’s body, wrapping each thigh, her stomach, and chest. The hieroglyphs on the linen grew brighter. As it climbed along her shoulders, Nephthys’s expression changed from intense pleasure to discomfort, then terror. She started to scream, but the cloth filled her mouth. Energy seemed to boil out of her and feed the Skin of Ra as it slid over her wide, panicked eyes. And then she was totally encased.
The air had turned desiccated. Malcolm’s throat was bone dry and his skin felt like it was ready to crack. He reloaded out of habit. Penny slid her empty gun into her belt, coughing in the dry air, and pulled the small pistol with the tuning fork.
The room was deathly silent. Then the mummy moved. An arm. A leg. Even though her eyes were no longer visible, the thing’s head turned slowly to stare at the pair of intruders.
“What do we do?” Penny shifted nervously under the mummy’s gaze.
“Kill it if we can.” He holstered one pistol and drew a dagger.
The hieroglyphs on the linen flared and the mummy lifted her arms. Cloth shot out from her fingers and seized Malcolm and Penny around their chests. Malcolm sliced at the linen, but with no effect. He roared as his hands seared with pain. Penny cried out as well. The mummy lifted them off the ground and flung them at the chnoubis.
The snake-creatures grabbed the Scotsman and the engineer, claws digging into the soft flesh of their shoulders. Mansfield strode beneath the bizarre figure of Nephthys.
He pointed at Malcolm. “I’ve seen you with Simon Archer at the Red Orchid. So you’re with Barnes? A toady of Ash? Well, too bad for you. Your master’s scheme is at an end.”
“Ash?” Penny said in renewed confusion. “How did Ash get involved in this? And we’re not with Barnes; we thought you were.”
“Stupid girl. You’ve got no idea what’s happening.”
“If you don’t serve Barnes,” Malcolm snarled, “why did Nephthys try to kill us?”
“We want the idiot to succeed in his ritual.” Mansfield laughed at their confusion. He climbed back onto the dais, eyeing the motionless mummy. He took the ebony box and put it under his arm. Then he hopped back down. “My dear, let’s be off. Mr. Barnes will soon take action to complete his summoning, and we don’t want to miss the party.”