Theodosia and the Serpents of Chaos-Theo 1 (20 page)

He handed the Heart of Egypt to Stokes, who took a turn admiring it. Then the two men exchanged one of those silent looks that are full of meaning.

Wigmere took the artifact back and ran his finger over it one more time before he looked up at me. "Do your parents know you've found this?"

I shook my head. "I saw no point in telling them since they would just have to give it up again. Besides, then I'd have to explain all about you, and I know you didn't want me to do that."

"Excellent. So only the three of you children know?"

I nodded.

"I'm afraid, Theodosia, I'm going to have to ask you to perform yet another service for your country," Wigmere said gravely.

Feeling very confident, I said, "I'd be happy to." After all, we'd just retrieved the most important artifact Britain had ever discovered. Surely we were up to whatever task Wigmere chose to ask of us.

Much to my shock, he handed the Heart of Egypt back to me.

"I need you to take this back to its rightful resting place."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I need you to return this to Egypt for us. There's no one here to do it. We've sent every one of our operatives to Germany in pursuit of von Braggenschnott. We thought he had the Heart of Egypt. It will take us weeks to get messages to them without breaking their cover."

Well, that certainly explained the deserted offices. But still. "What about one of you?" I asked, looking from Stokes to Wigmere and back again.

There was a moment of silence, then Wigmere spoke. "My dear girl, you can't expect Stokes here to go. Not with a twelve-inch gash in his ribs. He can barely sit up for longer than an hour."

"Well, then. What about you?"

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I wished them back. A pained expression crossed Wigmere's face and he gave a bark of laughter, the kind with nothing funny about it. "My dear, if only I could!" He motioned to his leg. "Don't you think I'd love to travel to Egypt? To have the honor of returning one of their most precious artifacts to its rightful resting place?" He sniffed loudly and stiffened his spine. "But I can barely get down here without a lift, and they don't have those in Thutmoses's tomb, let me tell you. As much as it pains me to say so, I'm simply not up to the journey."

I squirmed uncomfortably at his words. "B-but how am I to get there?" I asked.

"Using boats and trains," Stokes said. "Like everyone else."

"Yes, but I just can't waltz up to a boat and say, take me, an eleven-year-old girl, to Egypt!"

"No, of course not. You'll need to convince your parents to go and take you along."

"But Mum just got back!"

Lord Wigmere scooted his chair closer to me so that we were eye to eye. "I know this is a lot to ask. But you
are
extraordinary, Theodosia, with enormous personal resources. You've got to do it. For Britain."

I was still reeling at the impact of what he was saying. "But I'm not sure they'll be willing to give it up. Not if they know I've found it."

"Well, there's the rub. You still can't tell them you've found it."

"What? You expect me to talk my parents into going back to Egypt—and taking me with them—without telling them why?"

"And you mustn't mention us," Stokes added.

"Have you lost your buttons?" I said, leaping to my feet. "Of course I'll need to tell them about you. Why else would they be willing to go?"

"You'll have to think of another reason," Wigmere said, exchanging another one of those meaningful glances with Stokes.

I took a step toward them. "Why do you two keep looking at each other like that?"

Wigmere cleared his throat. "It's more important than ever that you don't tell your mother about returning the Heart of Egypt," he said at last.

I narrowed my eyes. "Why? Why is it so important to keep it from her?"

Wigmere shifted a bit in his seat. "Well, it's hard to explain..." His words trailed off, as if he had no intention of trying to explain something that difficult.

"Give it a go," I urged.

"Sometimes, when people work around ... vile things ... sometimes the effect of those things can ... wear off on them."

I cannot tell you how much I did not like the sound of this.

"Egyptian funerary and black magic are very—corrosive. They can eat away at a person's good side, until there isn't much of it left."

I froze in place, my hands fisted at my sides. "What exactly are you trying to say?"

He started to look over at Stokes again. "Don't even think of exchanging another one of those horrid glances with him. You look at me and tell me what is going on. This instant." I was breathing hard and my face was hot. It felt like if I dared to look away from Wigmere, my whole world would crumble.

Wigmere's voice was gentle when he spoke. "We've conducted an inquiry, Theodosia. We believe that the theft of the Heart of Egypt was an inside job. We're afraid your mother might have had something to do with it."

A great, yawning silence appeared in the room, black and dreadful. I was afraid it would swallow me up whole.

Wigmere rushed to continue. "It's not her doing, of course. It's the black magic she's been exposed to for enormous portions of her adult life. Think, Theodosia. She's in the pyramids, month after month, exposed to the artifacts in their most pure, undisturbed state for large portions of time. She can't help but be affected. It's like leaving a pudding out in the rain. Eventually the rain will dissolve the pudding and leave pits and fissures in it. We think that's what's happened to your mother."

I shook my head and couldn't seem to stop shaking it. "No," I said, backing away. "No! No! No! You've got it all wrong! What about you? You all specialize in artifacts infested with black magic. Maybe you've all gone bad and are just trying to trick me!"

There they went, exchanging those glances again. "Stop that!" I fairly shouted.

Stokes spoke this time, his voice gentle, as if he were trying to calm a horse. "We wear protection. At all times. It's ingrained into our very skin. And we take ... precautions several times a month."

"Let me see this ingrained protection," I demanded. It sounded like a cock and bull story to me.

"May I, sir?"

Wigmere nodded his head. "Yes. Of course. Show her."

Moving carefully, as if it hurt his wound, he unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt. I gasped. Sitting just below the base of his throat was a wedjat eye. I leaned in for a closer look. "What did you use to draw it with?"

"It's not drawn on. It's a tattoo. It won't ever come off."

I studied the symbol. It made perfect sense. The base of the throat is very vulnerable to evil magic. That's why the ancient Egyptians wore their amulets around their necks.

As Stokes buttoned his collar, Wigmere leaned forward, as if an idea had just occurred to him. "Does your mother wear protection, Theodosia? Or your father, for that matter?"

"No," I said, miserable. "I've tried and tried to get them to. I've even made them amulets, hoping that they'd wear them just to humor me, but they don't." I stiffened my spine. "But that still doesn't mean they've gone bad!" How could the only adult I'd found that I could trust be so completely and utterly wrong?

"Perhaps," Wigmere conceded. He didn't look convinced. "But it's a chance we can't take. Surely you can see that."

"I can see nothing of the kind," I spat. I stared out at the deserted room with all the empty desks and chaotic papers. How dare he suggest such a thing about Mother? I don't care if it was his job to protect all of Britain; there was no reason to cast Mum's reputation in such an ugly light. How could I convince them? How could I make them see how very wrong they were?

But of course—Fagenbush! If it
was
an inside job, it had to be him. He had been acting strangely since the moment the statue of Bastet arrived, sneaking around in the middle of the night, spying on me when he thought I had it. He had to be the inside man!

Feeling very smug, I turned to Wigmere. "You've got it all wrong. Yes, there is a mole, but it's not my mother. It's the Second Assistant Curator, Clive Fagenbush," I announced, feeling triumphant.

Wigmere shook his head sadly. "No, it's not Fagenbush. We've checked him out thoroughly. He's not the one."

"How can you be so sure?"

"We have our ways," Stokes said mysteriously.

"Well, your ways are wrong. Fagenbush is up to something. I've known that for weeks."

"Maybe so," conceded Wigmere. "But he's had nothing to do with the Heart of Egypt."

I folded my arms and glared at him. "Very well, then. Let's say my mother is in on this whole thing. Why on earth would she take me with her back to Egypt then? Surely she'd guess that something was up? If she's in on it and all."

"Well, I must say, I haven't much hope that your parents
will
do it. But it's our best shot. If she won't take you back, then I'll just have to go and hope that I don't botch it too badly."

"So if my mother does take me to Egypt, that will prove she's innocent, right? Then you'll realize what a stupid, idiotic theory you've cooked up?"

Wigmere fingered his mustache. "It will go a long way in her favor, I will say that," he finally conceded.

"Very well, then. We will be leaving for Egypt. Within a fortnight, no less. And you can bet your wedjat eye my mother had nothing,
nothing
to do with any of this." My whole body shook with outrage.

Wigmere took a step toward me, his face creased in worry. "I'm sorry to have upset you, my dear. But it's what we
do
here. It's why there's a Brotherhood—to ferret out exactly this sort of thing."

"I don't know, sir," Stokes said. "Maybe it's asking too much."

Wigmere studied me. "Is it too much to ask, Theodosia? If the burden is too great, we'll certainly understand."

Too disgusted to answer, I snatched the Heart of Egypt off the table, grabbed my waterproof from the back of the chair, and ran out the door.

I was so angry my footsteps nearly cracked the pavement as I strode home. I ignored the cold rain as it fell in fat little drops that practically sizzled when they touched me.

But my steps slowed as my mind began whirring. Mother did know von Braggenschnott. She'd even said he helped her get the Heart of Egypt out of the country.

Which proved nothing! Only that he wanted a British citizen to bring the curses back to British soil.

Even so, Mother hadn't seemed very concerned when I'd pointed out the man following her at the station. That was nothing new, though—grownups never listen to a word I say. Just remembering the look on her face when she discovered the Heart of Egypt was missing should erase all doubts.

However, she always had been a wonderful actress. It was one of the ways she managed Father so well ... In horror, I realized that Wigmere had got to me. Even
I
was beginning to suspect my own mother!

W
HEN
I
RETURNED TO THE MUSEUM
, the first thing I did was search out Fagenbush. It was high time we had a talk. I marched straight down to Receiving, certain he'd be sniffing around the newest artifacts.

Nigel and Stilton stopped what they were doing and stared at me.

"Is something wrong, Theodosia?" Nigel asked after an awkward pause.

I tossed my hair over my shoulder and tried to look casual. "I was just looking for Fagenbush. Have you seen him?"

"H-he was h-here just a moment ago," Stilton said, his left eye twitching the whole time. "I think he went down to the reading room."

"Thank you. I'll look for him there." Before either of them could say another word, I hurried back up the stairs.

And ran smack into Fagenbush.

The weasel had been lurking at the top of the stairway! He stepped out of the shadows as I reached the top stair, startling me so badly I nearly lost my balance. If he hadn't reached out and grabbed my shoulders, I would have tumbled back down the stairs.

He leaned toward me. "What did you do to it?" he asked. The stench of pickled onions made my nostrils quiver, as if they were looking for escape.

I jerked away from his grip, freeing my shoulders. "To what?" I was supposed to be grilling
him
, not the other way around.

"What did you do to the Bastet statue?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you ruined it. You did something to it and it's not ... the same."

So he
had
known about the curse! And had been planning to use it for his own evil ends. I was right. There was a mole in our museum, and it wasn't Mother!

The best defense is a good offense, or that's what Father says when he's getting ready to face the museum's board of directors. I squared my shoulders. "And what did you do with the Heart of Egypt?" I asked.

A puzzled look came over his horrid face. "What are you talking about?"

Suddenly I realized I had no idea whether or not Mother and Father had told the other curators the Heart of Egypt was even missing. Maybe that part was still a secret. Well, time to bluff it out. "You know exactly what I mean."