Theodosia and the Staff of Osiris-Theo 2 (21 page)

"Theo? Are you all right?" Miss Sharpe asked.

Then, almost without conscious thought, as if my body had come up with the idea all on it's own, I pretended to get my feet all tangled up and tripped. "Ow!" I said, screwing my face up tight and clutching my ankle.

Miss Sharpe stopped walking, folded her arms across her middle, and pinched her lips in disapproval. "I warned you nothing good would come of walking backwards."

Honestly! Can no grownup resist saying, "I told you so"? I groaned as if in pain.

Miss Sharpe looked around, clearly unsure what to do. Finally, she knelt down and gave my ankle a sharp prod.

"I think I may have sprained it," I said.

She sniffed. "That is what happens to odd ducks who waddle backwards."

For a moment I was seized by an overwhelming desire to quack at her. Odd duck, indeed. Instead, I said meekly, "I'm sorry, Miss Sharpe."

"Do you think you could hobble back to the museum?"

I shook my head.

"I suppose you could lean on me," she suggested with a look that said she'd rather clean chamber pots without her gloves.

"I don't think so," I rushed to say. "I'm much heavier than I look." The whole point was to get rid of her for a few moments so I could go find out what had happened to Will.

She glanced around the square. "I can't very well just leave you here."

"Oh, but you can! Don't forget—my parents let me go out and about on my own as long as I don't cross Oxford Street, and we're nowhere near Oxford Street. Besides," I said, playing my trump card, "it's hardly
your
fault, what with me being an odd duck and all." I hung my head humbly for good measure.

"Well, you're right about that part, anyway."

Would the beastly woman never leave? Will was in danger.

"Very well. I'll return to the museum and see if I can get one of the servants to bring round a cart."

"That would probably be best," I agreed. "I'll be right here when you get back," I assured her. But as soon as Miss Sharpe was out of sight, I leaped to my perfectly fine feet and made a mad dash for the alley down which I'd seen Will and the Nipper disappear.

Basil Whiting was just nearing the entrance when I reached it. "Stay there!" I hissed at him. I did not need to involve the Black Sunners in Will's problems. Whiting gave a curt nod as I slipped past him.

At first the narrow brick alley seemed empty, but then halfway toward the far end I saw the Nipper leaning into a doorway with Will pressed up against the door, shaking his head.

As silently as possible, I made my way toward a large pile of rubbish. I squatted down behind it so I wouldn't be spotted, then strained my ears to listen, but it was hard to hear over the pounding of my heart.

"You ain't been avoiding me, 'ave you, Willie, me boy?"

"N-no. Course not. Just been busy, that's all."

There was a loud, wet sniff somewhere off to my left. Snuffles must be nearby.

"Busy wif that new job o' yours, eh?" the Grim Nipper said. "Them fancy pants keeping you too busy for your old gig, then?"

Before Will could answer, the Nipper twisted the bunch of Will's collar he held in his fist, cutting off his reply. "These fancy pants of yours have led me to a right sweet gig now, they 'ave. People are taking their gold out of all their hidey places so as it'll protect 'em against these mummies, see. I'm
tellin' you, Willie boy. There's plenty o' work for someone with fingers as light as yours."

"I-I got a new job, Nip! All the work I can handle."

"That's too bad, now, Willie, 'cause I'm needing an extra pair of hands to pluck with."

"Sorry, Nip."

He shoved Will against the door so hard, I heard the thunk as Will's head connected with the wood. "That's not the answer I was looking for, Willie boy. I'll give you another day or two to think on it. And next time, you won't let me down again or you won't like the consequences."

Then the Nipper shoved his hands into his pockets and left the alley, walking right by the rubbish heap. I shrank back against the turnip tops and ashes and made myself as small as possible.

The Nipper was trying to pressure Will into returning to his pickpocketing ways. That's why Will had been wearing disguises and keeping a low profile. He wasn't hiding from the police—he was hiding from the Grim Nipper!

I stood up, wanting to talk to Will, but he was already at the far end of the alley, making a quick getaway in the opposite direction.

To make matters worse, just then I heard Miss Sharpe's voice calling, "Theodosia?"

Drat and bother! I scurried back to the main street, being sure to hobble convincingly. Luckily, when I reached the sidewalk, she was looking the other way. "Here I am, Miss Sharpe."

She whirled around. "You're walking," she said, her tone accusing.

"Yes! Isn't it grand? It appears it was only a twist, not an actual sprain."

She didn't look as though she thought it grand at all. She seemed quite disappointed that I wasn't writhing in pain.

"Dolge said he'd be over as soon as he was free, but now it's clear you've just wasted everyone's time. Come along." She turned her back to me and began walking to the museum at a brisk clip, never looking over her shoulder to be sure I was following.

Even so, I made sure to limp all the way back to the museum, just for good measure.

***

We spent the rest of the afternoon doing sums. I loathe sums. Not because they're hard. In fact, they're quite easy. But governesses always make you do scads and scads of them—for practice, they say. Honestly. It's not as if the numbers have changed their values since the last time you did
sums! The answers still work out the same way. Besides, I was anxious to meet up with Will. Hopefully, he and Snuffles had made their way back to the museum and were waiting for me to get them a message.

I had to find another way to get free of Miss Sharpe, at least for a few minutes. Deciding desperate measures were required, I cleared my throat. "Miss Sharpe? Could I be excused for a bit? I have to ... use the facilities."

She blushed slightly at my indelicacy, as did I. It was mortifying to tell someone I needed to go to the loo, but it was too important that I speak to Will. I was willing to suffer the pangs of embarrassment (just one of the many sacrifices I had to make). "I might be a while," I added, patting my stomach. "Last night's dinner didn't agree with me." Then I disappeared out the door so she wouldn't see the mortification flaming in my cheeks.

And unfortunately, I came nose to nose with Stilton, who was lurking right outside. No doubt trying to protect me.

Had he heard my miserable excuse? I was afraid he had—he stepped away rather hastily and let me pass. The requirements for covert operations weren't for the faint-hearted or overly modest, let me tell you.

Once I was away from the prying eyes of curators and scorpion bodyguards, I rushed over to the west entrance, where, just as I'd hoped, Will was waiting.

I scanned the area to be sure we were alone. No Grim Nipper, no watchful scorpions—only Snuffles a short distance back, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "It's clear," I whispered.

Will popped up like a bobbing cork, then followed me inside.

"Am I glad to see you!" I said. "Although I haven't much time. I'm expected back at my studies in a moment or two."

"Well, quit jawing and spill it, then."

I blinked. Will wasn't normally this prickly. "Very well. There's some information you must get to Wigmere. Tell him according to a Dr. Moribundus, the staff not only has the power to raise the dead, but to kill as well. When it's submerged in water, I think it creates the Fog of War."

Will whistled.

"Exactly! Now you see why I was so desperate to meet up with you!"

"I'll get this news to him right away, miss."

"Good. Hopefully he'll know what our next move should be. Were you followed this morning?"

His face went immediately blank. "Followed?"

"Yes. By that Grim Nipper fellow who's been at your heels all week."

Will's face paled at the name. "I don't know what yer talkin' about, miss."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous! I saw the two of you arguing earlier today, over by Cavendish Square."

Will narrowed his eyes. "'Ave you been followin' me?"

"Of course not! But when you're following me, and someone else is following you, I can't help but see. And you are most definitely being followed. And then today I accidentally overheard you two talking."

Will snorted. "Accidentally, my bum. You're a blooming eavesdropper, you are!"

I gasped. "Am not," I said automatically. (Although, of course, I am. But only for the best of causes. Like a friend being in trouble.)

"Are too. A wretched busybody, you are. I'll thank you to keep your nose out o' my business."

"But I was worried about you! I heard Inspector Turnbull talking about the Grim Nipper. He sounds like a horrid person, and I hate the idea of him jeopardizing your new job with Wigmere."

"I can take care of me own self. You just stay out of my business. Now, you got anything else for Wiggy?"

"No, but—"

"That's all, then. I gotta go," he huffed.

"Wait!"

"What?"

"I wanted to give you this. It's for Snuffles."

Will looked down at the clean white handkerchief in my hand. "We don't take no 'andouts."

Stung by his rejection of my gift, I shoved it at him, snatching my hand back just as he closed the door, leaving a tangle of bad feelings in his wake.

I heard a grunt and a scuffle. "It's mine!" a muffled young voice said. "She gave it to me! I 'eard!"

"Oy—if'n you want it that bad, you can 'ave it," was Will's equally muffled reply, and then all fell silent.

Well, at least Wigmere would get the message about the staff. Will wouldn't be so mad that he'd ignore his job duties, would he?

I lifted my chin. I wasn't going to let one prickly hedgehog of a pickpocket get under my skin. I'd simply have to deal with this alone, as I had most of the problems I'd encountered in my life.

And my next step was to find out what Chaos had planned for the staff. No matter how I looked at it, I simply couldn't come up with a decent explanation as to why they needed so many mummies. No, their reason for wanting the staff had to be tied up with it's darker, more evil powers. It was all too easy to accept that Chaos would have occasion to use the staff to kill. The problem was, I couldn't be expected to
provide all of London with Blood of Isis amulets, now, could I? Of course not.

As I passed the medieval exhibit, I heard Miss Sharpe trilling for me. Remembering how much she loathed raising her voice due to it's not being ladylike, I kept quiet, hoping to force her to screech.

"Theodosia! Your presence is required in the reading room at once! We've lessons to attend to!" The tone of her voice promised immediate retribution. I glanced longingly at the chain-mail shirts hanging nearby. Wouldn't those provide lovely protection against Sharpe's pinches! Unfortunately, Father would be most irate if I began wearing six-hundred-year-old chain mail. I did, however, snag my coat off the rack as I passed. It was thick, sturdy wool and would help dampen any vicious little reminders from Miss Sharpe's bony fingers.

I really needed to find a way to get rid of her. Right after I discovered what Chaos was up to.

T
HE NEXT MORNING
I got up extra early, even before our maid knocked on my door. Although I usually slept much better in my own comfortable bed than in the sarcophagus, I'd ended up tossing and turning the whole night. Trying to put the time to good use, I'd come up with a couple of plans of action.

I loved having plans. They gave me hope.

Plan #1: Rid museum of newest vile spirit before it settled in for a long stay.

Plan #2: See if Wigmere assigned spies to Chaos to determine what their next move would be. I simply couldn't do it all by myself, and I was stuck until I executed...
Plan #3: Get rid of Miss Sharpe as soon as possible, as she was sorely getting in the way of my truly important work.

It was my most sincere hope that my parents and I would arrive at the museum before Miss Sharpe did so I'd have a chance to tackle the new angry spirit. But first I needed to conduct a purification ritual—just like the priests of ancient Egypt had done before they performed serious magic. Ideally, one should do this every time one is going to do any magic, but the truth is, one can't always predict this sort of thing. But on this day, I planned to be as ready as possible.

T
HEODOSIA'S
Q
UICK AND
S
PEEDY
P
URIFICATION
R
ITUAL

1. Remove any wool or leather clothing. Wear nothing that has come from an animal of any kind.

2. Wash face, neck, hands, and behind the ears with fresh water. (It should really come from the Nile, but because that was impractical when living in London, I used fresh water from the pitcher on the washstand.)

3. Put on clean linens. (Just for the record, I did put on clean linens every day. Well, every day when I was home and had access to them.)

4. Rinse mouth with natron. (Only, I substituted salt—it was wretchedly difficult to get a hold of natron.)

Once I was properly purified, I slipped into a heavy serge frock and combed my hair. Just then, our maid came into the room. "Oh! You're all ready, miss!"

"Yes, Betsy, I wanted to get a jump on the day. Are my parents up yet?"

"Yes, miss. They just sat down to breakfast."

Excellent. That meant Father was wanting to get to the museum early, which coincided nicely with my own plans and saved me from having to try to convince him.

At breakfast, I saw that Cook had prepared a rasher of bacon to accompany our eggs. In an act of fortitude rarely possessed by one as young as I, I did not put any on my plate, even though bacon was my favorite breakfast food. It was because of the wretched purification thing. Ancient Egyptians were prohibited from consuming the oxyrinchus fish. I didn't even have access to oxyrinchus fish, but it felt as if I had to substitute something. I knew many cultures considered pork to be unclean, so I figured it was the next closest thing.