The Mummy (2 page)

She felt her way around the open coffin and started across empty space, her hands stretched in front of her. She tried to picture the arrangement of the artifacts. Almost immediately she bumped into the coffin of Urbena, side by side with Nefra.

At that moment, the lights returned. She blinked her eyes, trying to adjust to the brightness. The first thing to come into focus was the empty coffin prepared for the princess.

Shivering, she hurried into the next room, also empty. Where was everyone? She ran toward the hall.

“Where've you been, Lana?” Marge asked, stopping her flight. “Do you want a ride home?”

“Oh, please, Marge, if it's not out of your way. I have to admit, when the lights went off and caught me in there alone with those mummies, I got a little spooked.” Lana tried to laugh.

“The lights? The lights weren't off out here.” Marge's round, chubby face changed from her usual smile to a frown. “You got trapped with the mummies?” She laughed her hardy, no-nonsense laugh. “I don't blame you for getting shivery. I don't like looking at them in the daylight.” She took Lana's arm. “Come on, I've had enough talk of death and murder and suicide for one night.”

“Murder?” Lana hurried along with Marge. “Who was murdered?”

“Oh, you missed another story. Dr. Walters gave the reporters more sensational gossip to print. Said some think Nefra was murdered and then Princess Urbena committed suicide.

Lana gasped at the idea, but she didn't say anything. It was hard to talk and keep up with Marge at the same time. The woman, despite her bulk, moved out of the museum and across the parking lot at a rapid pace, her sensible, rubber-soled shoes thudding on the pavement. Their feet made the only sound in the dark night, and Lana was glad not to be alone.

In Marge's comfortable old Mercedes, Lana caught her breath and questioned Marge further. “Why did Urbena commit suicide? Because Nefra died? I read that he died of some rare disease.”

“A rare disease could have been poison. They didn't have medical examiners who had ways of proving how people died in those days. Urbena would have committed suicide because she believed if she died at the same time, she could reincarnate when Nefra did. They'd get back together that way. Of course, often everyone in a pharaoh's court was killed when he died. The ancient Egyptians were thorough in that way. Probably the next king wanted his own servants so he could trust them. Things aren't too different today, except the president just fires everyone in the old administration.” Marge laughed again. Lana liked the older woman because it was hard to stay gloomy or frightened when around her.

Lana thought about Urbena killing herself. Suicide was a pretty drastic step to take. “Do you believe in reincarnation, Marge?”

“I don't know. Sometimes I like to think I'll get a second chance if I don't do everything right this time around. I guess we'll never know for sure.”

Lana sat quietly, lost in her thoughts.

“Two people tonight made a funny comment to me, about you, Lana. You'll laugh, but …” Marge paused, waiting for Lana's curiosity to take over.

“What's that?” Lana
did
want to know what someone had said about her.

“They said you look just like they picture the princess Urbena looking. So maybe
you
have come back, Princess. Isn't that funny?”

“I — I guess so.” Lana would have enjoyed the idea more, earlier in the evening. She wasn't so sure now. She thought about telling Marge what had happened, about the whispering, and someone actually calling her Princess. But she knew Marge would laugh and tease her. Surely the whispers were her imagination.

Arriving at her house kept Lana from saying anything more about the evening. Lana lived close to the museum. Usually she would have walked home, but an early fall snow had left the streets sloppy, and it was unusually cold for October. She jumped out of the car. “Thanks, Marge.” She slammed the car door.

Marge waited until Lana reached her front door and had it open. Then she honked and waved. Lana waved back.

“How was the evening, Lana?” her mother called from the living room where she sat watching TV. “There was a mention of the exhibit on the news, and they said they'd have a special segment tomorrow. Did you get your picture taken?”

“No, Mom. Reporters were there, but they only photographed a few of the relics. The party was great.” The reception
had
been fun, until the end. Lana would remember the earlier part. She'd forget her flight of fantasy. She was laughing at herself, already.

Trying
to laugh. The voice had been so real. She
knew
she had heard something. She wasn't one to invent silly, scary scenes like lights going out and mummies talking to her.

“The teakettle is hot,” her mother said. “I made myself a cup of cocoa. Want one?”

“That's exactly what I need.” Lana hurried into the tiny kitchen of their cozy house, picked out her favorite mug — the one with funny penguins on it — and stirred up the sweet chocolate. She dug in a plastic bag for two puffy marshmallows, tossed them into the cup, and watched them bob and melt across the top of the hot drink. She'd earned this treat tonight. The party marked the beginning of a great four weeks, even though she was going to have to work really hard to keep up her schoolwork along with guiding people through the museum exhibit after school and on weekends.

Entering her bedroom and snapping on her light, she nearly dropped the small tray with her cocoa and three butter cookies she'd added for further treats.

“Mom,” she called. “Who's this?”

Her mother followed her into the room. “I knew you'd be surprised. That's why I didn't tell you.”

“But — ” Lana stared. A slender black cat stood, stretched, and sat tall like an Egyptian statue on the foot of her bed. He matched the inexpensive cat statue on her bedside table. Two bright yellow eyes stared at Lana, and if cats could smile, this one did, just slightly.

“You wanted a new cat, didn't you?” Mom teased.

“Yes, but I didn't think you'd get me one. I thought we'd go together and pick one out.” Lana didn't exactly feel disappointed. Her mother had said when she was ready they'd make a trip to the Good Friends' League. Choose a cat, or let one choose them, to help heal the pain of losing their old cat, Muffy, who had died in August. Muffy had lived to be sixteen, just one year younger than Lana, and Lana still missed her terribly. She and Muffy had grown up together.

“I thought we'd have to go looking for one, too, Lana.” Her mother circled Lana's shoulders and hugged her tight. “But sometimes I think cats choose us. I heard this plaintive noise outside the door right after you left tonight. When I opened the door to see what the fuss was, he trotted right in and headed for your room. He's been asleep on your bed ever since.”

“How strange.” Lana walked slowly toward the cat. She reached out her hand for the cat to sniff.

“Cats are strange. There must have been a sign on our door that said
New Cat Needed Here
. He seemed to know he'd be welcome.”

“You think he belongs to someone in the neighborhood and got lost and cold tonight?” Lana didn't want to get attached to the beautiful animal and then find he already had an owner.

“That's possible, but he surely feels at home. Let's deal with that later.”

The slim cat stood and rubbed back and forth on Lana's outstretched fingers. Then he stretched, rolled over, and exposed his belly for Lana to rub. The act was one that signaled trust, unusual behavior for a new acquaintance.

Lana sat on the bed and rubbed the soft, silky fur. Soon the cat was on his feet, eager for Lana to love him. She gathered him into her arms and rubbed the top of his head, then his chin. Oh, that felt so good, he said with more purrs, padded his front feet up and down on her knees. What her mother called making biscuits.

Leftover chills from the evening disappeared. “I needed you, Mister,” she said to the cat.

Mrs. Richardson smiled at the pair of them. “I never saw a cat take to anyone so fast, Lana. What will you call him?”

Lana pushed aside the idea that this animal might be someone else's pet. “He's obviously an Egyptian cat, worthy of being worshiped. I'm going to call him Seti, after the king who was father to Rameses II.”

“Why not Rameses?”

“Ummm, that doesn't seem right for him.”

The cat looked at Lana as if thinking about the name — whether he liked Seti. Whether the name was kingly enough.

“Seti, Seti,” Lana repeated. “Like it?”

Seti purred and started to curl up in Lana's lap.

“Okay, you do. But let me get in bed before you settle down for another nap, Seti. I'm exhausted.”

“There will be huge crowds at the museum tomorrow, Lana. Better go right to sleep.” Mrs. Richardson turned to leave the room.

“Don't worry, Mom. There's no way I'm going to lie awake tonight, even with my being this excited.”

Lana pulled on her pajamas and slipped into bed. She drank her cocoa, nibbled her cookies, and looked at Seti, who watched her the whole time. The cat, small for a male, sat tall and regal, looking exactly like one of the ebony statues in the exhibit. Lana reached out for him, but he stepped back, as if to say, don't bother me, I'm busy doing my king-of-the-household look. Just look and worship me.

“You know you're beautiful — handsome — don't you, Seti?”

Seti meowed softly. Yes, of course.

Laughing, Lana smiled and enjoyed looking at her room, which she had decorated in total Egyptian style. Her mother had let her paint a frieze around the ceiling to match those found in tombs and temples. All areas of Egyptian life, as well as Egyptian mythology, were depicted. She had carefully copied the pictures from books she had checked out of the library. On the wall that her bed faced, she had gone all out. A huge scene showed a queen being dressed in all her finery. It had taken her one whole summer to complete it.

Lana's mother was wonderful. She had given Lana an allowance for paint and bought her exotically colored and flowing materials at the department store. Lana covered her bed and windows, then hung the cloth from the ceiling behind the bed to make a false canopy. Josh had laughed when he saw her masterpiece, but she didn't care. She was the one who lived there.

He made up for it the next Christmas by giving her a great book on Egypt. For birthdays and holidays, her mother had given her reproductions of Egyptian artifacts — like the cat statue. Holding it in her hand, Lana looked again at Seti. Twins. She liked the warm, furry version best. She placed her hand on the new cat's side, and he murmured softly.

Her cocoa and cookies finished, she sighed, snapped off her bedside lamp, and snuggled into the covers. She felt the cat get up and turn several times, then settle into the small of her back, a slender, warm heater with a soft motor. He was exactly what she needed to balance out the evening, with its mixed experiences. Excitement at the Egyptian exhibit opening, amusement at Dr. Walters' talk, awe at meeting the archaeologist Blair Vaughn, then the strange, unreal whisperings that were surely in her imagination.

She promised herself that she'd forget the last experience and the scare that she'd had because of it. She drifted off, concentrating on only the good things that had happened. But then the first of the dreams came to her.

I
am dressed in a white, pleated gown fashioned of sheer cotton cloth, so soft it might have been woven of cobwebs. Jewels rest at my throat like a collection of dewdrops on the soft bodice. Gold bracelets cuff my wrists as well as my ankles
.

On my head rests a heavy wig, woven with ornaments. I long to reach up and pull it off, but instead I hold my head high, with the poise that befits a princess on the day before my wedding
.

The litter in which I ride sways from side to side as the slaves beneath me carry it on their shoulders. When I arrive at the palace, one kneels and I step on his back, steadied by my handmaiden, then to the soft carpet that has been rolled out as my walkway to the palace garden
.

He meets me in the garden, by a willow tree, not our first meeting, but certainly our most important. For tomorrow the royal wedding will take place. Tomorrow I will become his queen
.

At first I lower my eyes and stare at the path under my bare feet, the lovely pink flowers and green hedges of the palace garden. Then, feeling his gaze on me, I dare lift my eyes to his
.

In his dark brown eyes I see returned all the love I have come to feel for him. Ours is a love that will be written in the history books, that poets will exclaim about, that will be sung in melodies all over the kingdom
.

His love for me is like nothing I have ever felt before. Passion burns in his eyes with such fervor, I am almost frightened by the intensity. His is a love that will last for today, for tomorrow, and for all of eternity
.

Chapter 3

When Lana woke the next morning, she had a vague recollection of her dream. She knew she had been in Egypt, but that didn't surprise her since she had done nothing but read, sleep, eat, and live Egypt for months in preparation for the exhibit. What else would she dream about?

Seti stretched and yawned. “I suppose you slept well, your majesty,” Lana said, rubbing his head. He jumped off the bed and looked back as if to say, aren't you coming?

“And now you want breakfast? Do make yourself at home, King Seti.” Lana grinned, pulled on her robe, and headed downstairs for the kitchen. Her mother had left her a note on the kitchen table.

Have to work today, even though it's Saturday, alas. Happy opening! I fed Seti some tuna, but will stop on my way home and get proper
cat food. Please cut his nails so he doesn't scratch my new furniture. Have fun at the museum and don't get too stressed
.