Theodosia and the Serpents of Chaos-Theo 1 (8 page)

I smiled sweetly at him and resolved to locate a key of my own. "I had planned to work on my studies."

"I don't think so," he sneered. "Your father told me to tell you that he wants your help in Receiving."

Bother. How many times I had longed for Father to ask for my help, and the one time he did, I had something vitally important to do. Wasn't that the way of it? Very well. I would just have to slip away at the earliest opportunity.

When I reached the receiving area, my parents were up to their elbows in shabtis. Hundreds and hundreds of them. And every beastly one was carrying a curse.

It took ages to unpack them. Mum and Dad were thrilled because having an entire army of shabtis would make an impressive exhibit. I thought it was tedious, especially since the curses made my eyes water and my stomach queasy. I kept glancing at the clock, wishing Henry's train would hurry up and get here.

Which just shows you how bored I was. No doubt by tomorrow I'd be wishing Henry's train would take him
back
to school.

Finally the shabtis were unpacked and Mother and Father became so absorbed in cataloging them that I managed to slip away.

It was time to un-demonize my poor beloved cat.

I'd thought about it quite a lot as I unpacked the shabtis. The first thing I would try was belling the cat, only not with a bell, but an amulet. I hoped that if Isis was wearing some protection, the curse's effect would diminish.

But first I had to make the wretched thing.

I went back up to the reading room and pulled out the copy of Erasmus Bramwell's
Funerary Magic, Mummies, and Curses.
I carried it into my small study and pored over it from front to back. For the first time ever, research failed me. Bramwell hadn't a single idea. He wrote quite a lot on how to mummify a cat (something quite a lot of ancient Egyptians used to do) and how to properly mourn a cat (one must shave off one's eyebrows) but nothing on how to exorcise a cat. Which meant I was on my own. No ancient books or scholars from centuries gone by to guide me through this one. I'd have to make something up and hope it worked.

I needed to find a way to use Isis's own regenerative powers (cats do have nine lives, you know) to throw off the curse and grow back her original personality. I had to purify her
and
offer her protection against the powers of evil that coursed through her small furry body. Plus, I had to try to remind her of what her true nature was. A tall order.

I searched through my carpetbag (which I had forgotten to put away the day before. Very careless of me!) and was able to find all the ingredients I needed. I have recorded them below, for posterity, as Father always says.

T
HEODOSIA
T
HROCKMORTON'S
R
ECIPE
FOR
U
NDEMONIZING
Y
OUR
C
AT

I small square of white linen

I stick of willow Wood, burned at the tip

I small baby tooth from when cat in question Was a kitten (Luckily, I had one of those!)

I small fishbone (to stimulate her senses and remind her of her true nature)

I thimbleful of dried
Nepeta cararia,
commonly known as catnip (to stimulate her senses even more)

I drop of blood (the spellmaker's, not the cats)

I vessel of pure water

I hippopotamus tusk carved with magic symbols and used in magic ceremonies during the Middle Egyptian Dynasty period (borrowed from the Museum of Legends and antiquities Egyptian ZMagic collection #736)

26 threads—12 white (for purity), 8 green (for the power of growth), 6 red(for rebirth—Isis neededto be rebirthedin a hurry!)

The first thing I did was strip off my gloves. They would be much too clumsy for the fine work required in making the amulet. Next I drew a wedjat eye in the middle of the linen square with the burned end of the willow stick. This would give poor Isis the healing power of Horus and the protection of the fearsome goddess Eye of Ra.

Then I placed the tooth, fishbone, and catnip in the middle of the linen square. I poked my finger with a small needle, then let one drop of blood fall on the small pile. Next, I carefully folded the linen over and over again until it was nothing but a lumpy square. I plaited the twenty-six threads together so that they formed a small collar. After that, I had to poke holes in both ends of the linen pouch with my needle, then thread the collar through the pouch so I could attach it to Isis's neck. The wand and water would be used later, during the ceremony.

But before I could begin the ceremony, I had to find the poor bedeviled cat.

How does one catch a demonic cat, anyway? Let alone hang on to it long enough to remove a curse? Cats are so contrary, even when they aren't possessed by black magic. No sooner do you decide you need to find one than they go into hiding. Of course, if I wanted the cat out of the way, she'd be under my feet, winding herself between my ankles and tripping me.

I spent ages wandering around the cold, cavernous museum looking for Isis. I checked all her favorite places; behind the furnace, in the loading dock where the mice and rats live, in the family room under the wardrobe, and under the display cases in the bird gallery (she likes to pretend she is stalking them). But she was nowhere to be found.

When the museum's various clocks sounded, I counted the chimes; twelve. It was lunchtime! Which meant Isis might be lurking about hoping for dropped bits of sandwich or whatnot. Dolge and Sweeney weren't the neatest of eaters. Neither was Flimp.

I spent the better part of the next hour skulking around like a cat myself. While there was no sign of Isis, I did manage to collect a nice pile of crumbs. In the foyer, under the balcony that Isis seemed to enjoy launching herself off of, I arranged a blob of liverwurst, a tiny crumble of cheddar, and part of a boiled egg white.

Just as I was setting a very promising Isis trap, I felt a
whoosh
as a small furry shape whizzed past me, then vivid pain as razor sharp claws swiped my hands away from the scraps.

I was so startled that it wasn't until Isis had nearly swallowed the last bit of egg that I remembered to grab her.

Howling like a banshee, she twisted violently, trying to wrench herself from my grasp. It was like trying to hang on to a small whirlwind! I clutched her close and prayed the reading room was still empty. It would be just my luck to have some crusty old scholar show up while I was trying to smuggle my cat in.

With relief, I found the room empty and hurried into my study. I held on to Isis with one hand while I groped for my supplies with the other.

Unfortunately, this left her arms and legs free to slash and swipe. I winced as her claws made contact with my torso, then nearly dropped her when her paw sliced through my left sleeve.

I wrestled her down to the floor and held her in my lap with one hand while I tried to wrap the collar around her neck with the other. Luckily my heavy layers of clothing protected me from any further damage. Finally, I got the collar wrapped around her scrawny little neck. Then I had to release my hold on her so I could tie the horrid thing, which left her free to try to run away or claw my arm off.

She gave both a rousing good try.

As I tied on the collar, I mumbled the charm as quickly as I could. "May the healing power of Horus fill you. May the strength of the Eye of Ra shine down upon you. May you revert back to your charming little self." At those last words, Isis wrenched free of my grasp. As she streaked toward the door, I lurched to my feet and grabbed the vessel full of water. "May this water purify your soul!" I cried out, tossing it at her as she disappeared through the door.

I heard a bellow of surprise, then who should stick their ugly head in the door but Clive Fagenbush! His eyebrows were drawn together, like one huge mustache across his forehead, and there was a big wet blotch right in the middle of his chest. You can just imagine how happy he was about
that.

As he took a single, slow step into the room, a drop of water dangled from his long pointed nose. "What do you think you are doing, you miserable child?" he asked.

His fury was like a wall, pushing up against me. I took a step back. "I was giving Isis a bath," I said.

He took another step closer. "A cat? A bath? In winter? Tell me, do you always invoke purification rites when you give your cat a bath?"

Bother. Heard that, had he? I stopped backing up, folded my arms across my chest, and gave him a haughty glare. "Of course. Don't you? How do you expect to get really clean, then?"

His frown deepened.

Just then I heard Father's voice from down the hall. "Theodosia! Get out here! We're going to be late picking up Henry!"

Oh, dear. He sounded angry. "Sorry. Got to go." I took a step forward to make my escape, then realized I would be leaving him here alone with my things.

He glowered at me. "I'm warning you..."

"Now!" Dad's voice barked out, and Fagenbush and I both jumped. Father stood in the door behind us. When he saw the Second Assistant Curator standing in my study, he did a double take. "I say, what are you doing in here, Fagenbush?"

Yes, I thought. What
are
you doing in here? I tilted my head to the side, waiting for his answer.

"I, uh, thought Theodosia might have had, er, something that I was looking for."

"Nonsense. Theodosia doesn't have anything in here." He frowned at me, suddenly wary. "Do you?"

I gave a little laugh. "Whatever would I have in here?"

Father nodded. "Quite. Now, move along, Fagenbush. Theodosia needs to come with me."

Fagenbush nodded, then beat a hasty retreat. Just as I was feeling rather smug, Father turned back to me. "What on earth has happened to you? Look at you! You're a mess."

I rubbed my elbow, then pushed my hair back out of my eyes so I could look down and see how much damage had been done. The bottom of my right sleeve was in tatters, and my wrist had a number of scrapes on it. "Isis and I had a bit of a disagreement."

"That confounded cat will be our undoing," Father declared, then strode out of the room. "Now come along. You're making us late."

As I followed, I could only hope that the amulet would work its magic on Isis. Hopefully by the time we returned from the holidays, she would be cured.

C
HARING
C
ROSS
S
TATION
was even more of a madhouse than the day before, if that were possible. Families dressed in traveling clothes and lugging valises were shepherding excited children into the station, while porters wheeling carts of towering luggage did their best to avoid them. Trains pulled up to the platforms and belched out groups of schoolchildren home for the holidays like puffs of gray smoke. As I searched the most recent batch for signs of Henry, I felt a slight tug on the back of my coat. I whirled around and found myself face to face with the urchin, Sticky Will.

"'Ello there."

He looked a little grimier than he had yesterday, and his collar had sprung loose. "Hullo!" I said. "I was hoping I'd find you—"

"Seems to me as I'm the one wot did the finding."

I waved my hand. "Never mind. What did you find out?"

"Blimey, miss!" the urchin said, staring at my arm. "Was you in a fight?"

"No, I wasn't in a fight," I said. "My cat and I had a misunderstanding, that's all."

The pickpocket eyed me up and down. "Must be some cat. 'As 'e got lion blood in 'im?"

"At the moment she seems to," I muttered. "Now, what did you find out?"

"The bloke made 'is way to some digs on Carleton Terrace Gardens."

"Carleton Terrace! Isn't that right next to the German Embassy?" Did that mean this skulky fellow was a German? And why would a German be following Mum? Or care so much about her trunks?

The urchin shrugged. "I just follows 'em, miss. I don't tell 'em where to go." His eyes darted over my shoulder, then back at me. "We're even now, right miss?"

"Yes, I suppose—"

"Got to go," he said, turning to dart back into the crowd.

"Wait a minute," I said. "How can I find you?"

The urchin grinned, revealing a missing tooth. "I'm usually here most days." He glanced over my shoulder one more time, then was gone, disappearing into the crowd. I was surprised at how alone I felt all of a sudden. A person could get used to having an ally.

Just then I heard an all too familiar voice behind me. "Does Father know about this?"

Slowly, I turned around. "Henry. You're home." I tried to keep the disappointment out of my voice. Well, I tried a little. Why couldn't
he
be helpful like Sticky Will?

"Are you so desperate for friends that you're picking up strays?"

My face grew hot and I clenched my fists to keep from socking him. "I have plenty of friends," I spluttered.

"Really? Who? A scrawny cat? Flimp? A boring curator you make cow eyes at?"

"I do not make cow eyes at him!"