Simon felt no fear, only a sense of awe. His hardened skin started to crack and fall away. He managed a deep gasping breath to ward off unconsciousness. Pain stabbed at every joint and lanced his heart. His knees buckled, but he immediately whispered his strength into being and stumbled to Kate’s side. His still-shaky hands began to pry the amber from around her hips.
A cackling laugh came from the main door beyond where Hogarth crouched with Charlotte. Two people entered the church. The first was Ambassador Mansfield, staring at Albion as an engineer studies a new bridge. He carried the ebony box in his arms. Just behind him came a second figure, hardly five feet tall swathed in a long cloak with a full hood. Then it threw back the hood and slipped off the cloak to reveal a woman mummified in linen. The hieroglyphs on the linen illuminated in a random chaotic pattern, creating a weird, syncopated vision as the mummy walked forward.
“Holy God.” Simon’s shoulders dropped momentarily and he looked at the faint tattoo on the back of his hand. “Nephthys used the Skin of Ra. If she’s here, what’s happened to Malcolm and Penny?”
Charlotte and Hogarth were blocking the main aisle. Despite Hogarth’s efforts to quiet her, the werewolf rose, snarling at the mummified Nephthys. The mummy raised a hand and her hieroglyphs blinked faster. Tendrils of linen shot from the bandaged fingers. They latched onto Charlotte and the beast thrashed with agony as aether snakes twisted about her, binding and constricting. Charlotte’s furious howl became a feverish scream as she began to shift back to the form of a little girl. With a flick of her hand, the mummy sent her flying over the pew box to crash into the back corner.
Hogarth raced to her, skidding to a halt beside her still form. He did a quick expert check for broken bones and serious wounds. Satisfied she was merely battered, he took his waistcoat and covered the naked girl.
The mummy now looked at Simon and Kate, daring them to make the same foolish mistake. Simon took a deep breath and clenched his fists. At the same time, Albion raised a hand and pure light lanced the mummy. She staggered. Simon squinted at the spectacle through painful tears. The hieroglyphs flared on the mummy and she regained her stance, straightening. The gods stared at each other in silent reflection. Simon could see an aether storm swirling around Nephthys. She was gathering power.
Albion raised both arms and twin bolts of radiant energy struck the Skin of Ra. This time the massive power didn’t stagger Albion’s opponent. The swirl of linen cascaded around the swathed figure, moving so fast the naked eye could barely keep up, sucking up the excess energy like a sponge, glowing ever brighter.
“Archer!” Ash stumbled away from the altar.
Simon drew his sword and spoke it into a blue glow. He handed it to Kate. “If she escapes me again, cut her down.”
“My pleasure.” Kate brandished the sizzling blade, her tangled hair a wild halo around her.
Then Simon launched himself at Ash, seizing the cadaver by the throat and shoulders. The lolling head turned to him and Simon felt a strange burst of cold inside his chest. The grasping knife-edge of the necromancer’s curse vanished. The sudden absence of pain was almost euphoric.
“What did you do?” Simon whispered.
“I’ve cured you,” Ash slurred through flaccid lips. “I need you.”
“Simon, you owe her nothing,” Kate called out.
Ash said, “I am an idiot, Archer. I never saw this coming. Gaios knew I would activate Pendragon’s spell and raise Albion. He was just waiting for it. I was so focused on you; I thought you were his agent, trying to stop me.”
“Damn it. Nephthys is working with Gaios.” Simon pulled Ash close. “That’s her inside the Skin of Ra.”
“Yes!” Ash’s voice was growing weaker in the husk of Barnes. “That creature carries the power of the godkiller. The Skin of Ra is a magic eater. If we don’t stop her, she will strangle Albion in his cradle. The reign of Gaios will begin here tonight. The bloodbath will start. Choose a side, Archer: me or Gaios.”
“Jesus! Enough!” came a booming voice.
All heads turned to see Malcolm and Penny standing behind Ambassador Mansfield. Malcolm had the barrel of his pistol to the American’s head. He shouted, “Stop whatever the hell you’re all doing or he dies.”
The mummy didn’t alter her attention. Her hieroglyphs pulsed intermittently as the pure white power of Albion continued to pour over her.
Malcolm waited with an annoyed squint on his face. When he realized the two gods weren’t listening to him, he bashed the heavy pistol against Mansfield’s temple. The ambassador toppled to the floor with an insensible grunt. Then the massive Lancasters came up and starting thundering. The heavy balls struck the mummy in the back and knocked her to the floor in a tangle of writhing linen. The pistol barrels smoked and rotated, shot after shot. Eight .577 caliber balls slammed into the small, linen-wrapped body. The mummified figure jerked grotesquely from the pounding impacts that pushed her along the stone floor. Then she lay still.