The Mummy (12 page)

“Thanks.” He grinned. “I may need it. If Darrah were an Egyptian queen, my head would be under the ax by now.”

He waved and headed for the front door. Lana walked slowly to the bathroom before she returned to the exhibit.

Just inside the door someone grabbed her arm. Darrah's face was a mask of pure anger, robbing her of all her beauty.

“Leave Rod alone, Lana. He's mine, all mine. I'm warning you just this once.”

Lana pried Darrah's fingers off her arm. “And what will you do if I don't? You don't own Rod.” Lana felt perverse and angry, too. Darrah had no right to speak to her this way. To tell her she couldn't be friends with Rod.

“The ancients aren't the only ones who can place a curse on a person. I'll make sure you regret not obeying me. You act like some kind of princess who owns this place, but you don't own Rod. I do. I'll make you regret you ever met him or me. I'll get you when you're least expecting it.”

Lana couldn't walk away. “Don't threaten me!” Darrah's tirade brought out a side of Lana she didn't like, but she refused to back down.

“Try me!” Darrah whirled and dashed out of the bathroom. Lana was left to cool off her own anger with cold water over her face and hands.

“You do seem to be upsetting a number of people all of a sudden, Princess.” Lana spoke to her image in the mirror. She stared at the face — one that seemed as if it belonged to someone else, to another time, another place. Finally it relaxed into a smile — a half smile. Not much was funny today.

Upstairs a group was waiting for her. She pushed Darrah out of her mind, but continued to think about what Rod had said about being Urbena. She felt so at home among the artifacts, and she loved entertaining the visitors with stories about Nefra and Urbena and about other kings and queens.

“You look like this princess yourself,” one man commented, pointing to Urbena's coffin. It was a remark Lana had heard so often she was starting to believe it.

I may be, she thought, letting the strange idea take hold of her. I may be this Egyptian princess. If I am, that would explain this pull that Nefra has on me.

She smiled at the man, entered the warm presence of the boy-king, and began to tell his story.

Chapter 16

Seti didn't meet her after work that day, and she was relieved that he'd stopped playing his game of caretaker and personal bodyguard. When she got home, however, she looked all over the house — which didn't take long, since their house was small.

“Seti,” she called. He knew his name. “Seti, where are you? Seti, come.” She even whistled, knowing cats heard high, sharp sounds easily.

Her bedroom window was closed and locked. Mom had made sure of that last night, and Lana had checked it again before she left for the museum this morning.

“Seti. Seti!” She held back her panic, opening closet doors, then starting on dresser drawers. Surely he'd meow if he was trapped someplace.

In the kitchen she opened all the cupboards, the pantry, then searched the small storage area off the kitchen by the back door. This was their “mess room,” her mother had said. Everyone had to have one room or part of a room for making a mess, piling recycling things — newspapers, aluminum cans, bottles.

When she was absolutely certain that Seti wasn't in the house, she called her mother, who'd had to work again today. The department store was having a big November sale and needed all the help they could bring in to get ready for it.

“Mom, did you see Seti before you left for work?”

“No, I don't remember seeing him. Isn't he home?”

“I can't find him anyplace in the house.” Lana was close to tears. “Do you think he slipped out when you left? He's good at that.”

“Calm down, Lana.” Her mother's voice was soothing. “Remember that Seti came to us. He was a stray, I assume. So he's very independent, and able to take care of himself.”

“I wish I could believe that.”

“Retrace your route to the museum. Maybe he set out to meet you and — and got distracted.”

Lana filled in what her mother didn't want to say. Got hit by a car. Chased by a dog. She didn't think she needed to add picked up by some kids bent on mischief. Seti seemed pretty good at defending himself — and her. She couldn't help but remember the night he'd chased away the mummy — whoever that was who was trying to frighten her.

Putting on a heavier coat with a hood, she stepped back outside. The wind was blowing ahead of a storm, a cold wind. Clouds rolled and tumbled in the west, over the mountains. Surely if Seti could get home, he would have come. Animals know when bad weather is coming. He wouldn't want to be caught outside in the first real snowstorm of the season.

Ducking her head and turning her back to the wind, she let it push her down the sidewalk toward the museum. She half walked, half stumbled all the way to the park and then the grounds outside the huge building.

“Seti,” she called over and over. “Seti, come.”

Gusts of wind swept her voice away. She yelled louder. She stopped several people asking them if they'd seen a black cat. When she turned and headed back home, the wind punished her cheeks and snatched her words almost before she could open her mouth. She tugged the hood close to her ears, which had started to ache.

Instead of yelling more she started to concentrate on Seti, getting an image of him in her mind. She begged him to hear her, to know she needed him, to come back to her. If he was lost and felt the connection, he'd know which way to run. He'd know to come to her.

Returning to her neighborhood, she knocked on every door, asking about Seti. It didn't matter if she knew the people or not, and she didn't know too many of the neighbors. Many houses were rentals, many were bought and sold often. The area changed so often that neither she nor her mother bothered to get acquainted. They were both busy and had friends away from home.

Striking out, she at least had the satisfaction of knowing if anyone living close saw Seti — found him — his body — they'd call her.

But deep in her heart, she knew Seti wasn't dead. The connection was still there for her, and she was sure she'd know if Seti was hurt or — or worse.

Despite that knowledge, she felt a weight in her chest, around her heart, as if the wind had reached inside and iced her lungs, slowed the blood pumping in and out of her heart. She felt sluggish and unable to breathe.

Her mother had gotten home. She rushed to the front door when Lana opened it. “Lana, did you find him?”

Lana shook her head, unable to speak. Her mother took her coat and threw it on the porch, put one arm around Lana and pulled her into the kitchen.

“I made a pot of hot, strong tea. I hoped you'd be home soon. Look at you, you're frozen.”

Lana cupped both hands around the mug of amber liquid that her mother placed in front of her at the kitchen table. She sipped until a small chunk of the ice inside her melted.

“I can't bear it if anything has happened to him, Mom. I never got close to a cat this fast.”

“Now, Lana, nothing has happened to Seti. I feel that. I'm sure of it, and I don't even know why.”

“I feel the same way, but it doesn't help much when I can't hold him in my lap.”

Lana's body grew tired, exhausted. She ate a few bites of the stew her mother warmed for them, but it seemed to stick in her throat and create a huge ache. The ache grew larger until her entire chest hurt. If she breathed deeply, stabs of pain almost made her cry out. When she crawled into bed, she lay there whimpering. She stuffed the pillow around her face so her mother wouldn't hear her.

Her mother liked cats, too, but Lana was afraid she'd scold her for taking on so over a cat. A cat who had come to them and only stayed a couple of weeks. He wasn't like Muffy who had been a part of the family for so long.

But Seti was family. That was what was strange when Lana thought about it. She had fallen in love with Seti the minute she set eyes on him. At first purr.

“Seti, oh, Seti, please come back.”

She slipped out of bed and opened the window a crack, pushed the screen away from the sill just enough for a slender cat to slip through.

Cold wind whistled through the narrow opening. She didn't care. It didn't matter how cold she got. Outside someplace, Seti was colder.

She threw the afghan her mother had knitted over her puffy comforter, slid back into bed, and huddled there until she started to get warm again.

She didn't know when she fell asleep, or how long she had slept. She only knew something woke her. What woke her wasn't a dream. Her mind was dark, like a movie theater after hours.

No, what woke her was a thump. A bumping sound like Seti had jumped from the window to the floor.

Sitting up, she snapped on the light. “Seti? Is that you?” She patted the bed. “I knew you were alive. Come here, you must be frozen.”

No shivering cat appeared, and there was no tiny meow saying thank goodness I found my way home.

But the wind wailed louder through the open window, and a plinking noise suggested that rain or sleet was hitting the screen. The storm had arrived.

She pushed back the covers, feeling the cold air whip right through her nightgown. Her feet touched the icy floor, and, remembering the scorpions, she glanced around before she walked farther.

The cold didn't stop at her skin, but seeped inside, quickly chilling her all the way through. A different kind of cold started in her stomach and zipped up her windpipe into her throat. Something was wrong. Seti hadn't jumped in the window.
Something else had
.

She rushed to the light switch by her door, flipped it on so she could see better. Only then did she dare look at the floor beside the window.

When she did, when her eyes focused, she started to scream.

Wrapped in gauze, a perfect mummy of a cat sat upright.

Chapter 17

Lana's screams had progressed to hysteria by the time her mother reached her.

“Lana, Lana, what's wrong?” Her mother flew into the room and wrapped her arms around Lana, trying to calm her. She held Lana tight and patted her back. “What's wrong, honey?”

When Lana got a little control, she pointed to the object on the floor below her window, staring at it again herself.

“Seti,” Lana sobbed. “Seti.” That was all she could say.

“Oh, no.” Her mother breathed out the words softly. “It can't be. Who would do such a thing?” Then anger filled her voice. “I'm calling the police this time, Lana. They would have laughed if I'd have called and said someone put scorpions in my daughter's room, but this is different.”

Mrs. Richardson pulled Lana along with her to use the phone in the kitchen. She pressed Lana into a hard-backed chair while she dialed 911.

A patrol car was in the neighborhood. Two uniformed men were at the door within two minutes.

“You stay here, Lana,” her mother suggested and led the officers to Lana's bedroom.

Something inside Lana would not let her sit there in the kitchen while strangers tended to Seti. She followed them.

Both officers stared at the cat mummy for a few seconds as if they couldn't believe what they were seeing.

“You think this is your cat?” the short, blond one said.

“Isn't it obvious?” Lana's mother was getting angry. Lana heard the control in her voice.

The man looked at his partner and shrugged. Then he walked over and picked up the gauze-wrapped figure. He stared at it, then started to unwind the bandages. He peeled off the gauze slowly as if he himself didn't want to see what was underneath.

Lana held her fist to her mouth, pressing in another spate of hysterical screams. Why was she watching? She couldn't
not
watch. As bad as this was, she had to see it. She had to know.

Black fur started to show as the last layer fell away into a long, gray spiral piling up at the police officer's feet. When the last of the gauze spilled to the floor, he continued to stare at the object in his hand.

Lana ran to him and grabbed the cat from him. A stuffed toy! Not Seti. Not her cat. But a child's toy.

Tears of relief ran down her face in tiny rivers. Once more she broke into hysterical crying, this time from relief.

“It's not Seti. It's not! It's not!” She sobbed until she had all the anguish out of her system. No one tried to stop her, to comfort her. No one touched her. They waited.

Finally her mother took the cat, plush hair flattened, but still wearing a little smile, from Lana's hands and handed it back to the police officers.

“Lana, come into the living room. We need to talk to these men.” Her mother pulled her away from the window, letting one of the men examine it.

“This window was not forced open,” the tall, dark-skinned man said.

“I left it open for Seti to come in.” Lana was ready to talk. “I couldn't find my cat when I came home. I left the window open so he could come in when he did return.” She defended leaving herself vulnerable.

Seated in the living room, the officer, looking a bit foolish holding the stuffed cat, spoke again. “Do you have any idea who'd want to frighten you like this, Miss Richardson?”

“Someone put scorpions in her room the night before last,” Mrs. Richardson told them. “We didn't call you then since it was obviously someone being malicious, but this was worse. Both acts have been deliberately planned to frighten Lana.”

“I don't know how, or who, but I think all of this is somehow connected to the theft of the Egyptian necklace.” Lana told the police as much of the story as she could come up with. What had happened was all so confusing to her. “Someone tried to frighten me at the museum the night before the exhibit opened. Then the necklace was stolen while I was there.”

His partner took notes while Officer Dickenson asked the questions, what few he could think of. Mostly who might have done this, and Lana had no answer for that.