Valley of Kings Read online

  Alex’s eyes had adjusted to the dim light now, but the shadows remained deep, the silence charged, and the air heavy.

  “Are we alone?” said Todtman.

  Hesaan frowned. “We are never alone, I fear,” he said. “But there are no other people here. The other entrances are boarded shut, and that is the first time I’ve opened the main door today.”

  Alex understood the rumpled suit now. “You slept here?”

  “The treasures of Egypt must be protected,” said Hesaan with a shrug. “And no one else will stay. I sleep in my office with a cricket bat and swat away the shadows.”

  Alex saw Ren shudder slightly and took a step closer to her.

  “But now you are here!” said Hesaan, clapping Todtman on the back in a way that made him wince. “All of you. And you have more than cricket bats.”

  “Cricket’s like baseball, right?” said Luke.

  “Far superior,” said Hesaan, but his eyes were on everyone except Luke. “Three amulets in one place. I never thought I’d see this day.”

  Hesaan’s eyes flicked toward the amulets hanging from Todtman’s and Ren’s necks. Alex wore his under his shirt. The polished stone and copper beetle was chunkier and more conspicuous than the others. Plus, he liked to think of it as a concealed weapon: the only one that could activate the Book of the Dead and banish the Death Walkers.

  Hesaan’s eyes lingered for just a moment on the spot where the scarab rested under Alex’s shirt, then he straightened up and got to business. “So,” he said. “What is it you need from the Supreme Council?”

  He was addressing Todtman, but the doctor had turned to look back at the front door for some reason. It unnerved Alex. The falcon amulet was known as the Watcher for a reason. If Todtman wasn’t ready to answer, though, Alex was.

  “We are looking for the Lost Spells!” he said. But at exactly the same moment, Ren said: “We need the Book of the Dead.”

  “You seem to need a great many things,” said Hesaan.

  “Perhaps I can clarify,” said Todtman. Everyone listened carefully as the man who had led them this far laid out their next steps.

  “We have already found and sent back two Death Walkers. There is another one in Cairo, that much seems clear, and to battle it, we would need the Book of the Dead.” He nodded toward Ren, who couldn’t resist giving a triumphant little nod in return.

  But faster than Alex could say “teacher’s pet,” Todtman continued: “But I believe that without the Lost Spells — the spells that started all of this — we can only send the Walkers back to where they were before, clinging to the edge of the afterlife … waiting for another door to open …”

  Alex risked a quick glance at Ren, who now looked slightly betrayed.

  “You think they could come back,” said Hesaan.

  The thought was like an icicle down Alex’s back.

  “Yes,” said Todtman. “If our enemies get to the Lost Spells first, the Walkers will be beyond harm. The Order will be unstoppable.”

  “I see,” said Hesaan as he began walking again, leading the little group deeper into the large, shadowy room.

  “You said you might have some information?” asked Todtman.

  “Yes,” Hesaan said, taking a look around to confirm that they were alone. “Dr. Bauer is here, in Egypt. Or at least she was.”

  “Wait, what, where?” Alex blurted. His mother was here!

  Hesaan looked at him, something like pity in his expression, and answered, “Her passport was scanned in Luxor, ten days ago. In the little airport there.”

  “And then?” demanded Alex.

  “And then nothing,” said Hesaan. “It is a much smaller city than Cairo — half empty these days with the trouble in the country — and the council has many people there, but there has been no further sign of her.”

  “Why was she in Luxor?” said Todtman.

  “I have a guess,” said Hesaan. “I believe she first found the Lost Spells near Luxor — in the Valley of the Kings.” Hesaan gestured down at a large table in front of him.

  It was covered by a large, intricately detailed replica of a desert landscape, the hillsides and valleys cut away in places to reveal side views of underground chambers. Tombs. As Alex scanned the model, he recognized famous landmarks: the tomb chapel of Hatshepsut, cutaway views of the largest and most ornate tombs, and then one of the smallest but most important. The tomb of King Tutankhamun.

  “Maggie got the Lost Spells from the Valley of the Kings?” said Todtman.

  “I can’t say for sure,” admitted Hesaan. “But when she first brought them in, she arrived on an overnight train from the valley. She would not say exactly where she found the Spells when I asked. The spot had kept them safely hidden for thousands of years. She was protecting it.”

  Todtman sized up Hesaan carefully. “You think she’s gone back to Luxor to return the Spells to their hiding place.”

  Hesaan looked over at him. “Why else would she come back?”

  A sudden, sharp noise echoed through the room. It was no phantom whisper this time. The big front door was swinging open!

  Hesaan looked down at the keys he’d used to lock it, still in his hand.

  Morning sun spilled into the murky gray of the museum. For a brief moment it clearly outlined a single figure: very thin, the skull of a lioness on her head.

  “Peshwar,” Todtman whispered.

  Then other figures rose up to join her.

  “The Supreme Council forbids your entrance!” shouted Hesaan, a brave man even without his cricket bat.

  “Government entities mean nothing to us,” said Peshwar, her voice a hoarse, harsh scratch. “We are the law now.”

  How had The Order known they were at the museum? The friends had taken every precaution to avoid being followed, but once again, here they were. And this time, Peshwar had waited until the Keepers were inside — until they were trapped.

  As she walked through the door, Alex realized that it wasn’t a mask she was wearing. It was the actual skull of what must have been a massive lioness. She gazed out through the eye sockets in the sun-bleached bone. Her suit from the day before had been replaced by thick, blood-red robes.

  Hesaan maintained his defiant pose, standing tall in the center of the room. But his next words were softer, just loud enough for those around him to hear: “We must run.”

  A lean, stone-faced man came through the door after Peshwar, and a second was on the threshold.

  Alex’s left hand was already on his amulet. He felt the copper wings of the ancient beetle dig into the soft flesh of his palm as his pulse began to race. His mind cleared, and one thought formed very clearly:

  We did enough running yesterday.

  His right hand shot up, his fingers spread slightly. The scarab was a symbol of resurrection in ancient Egypt, and his amulet dealt with life, death, and rebirth. But those things took many forms in this thirsty land. The wind that comes before the rain … As the words formed in his mind, a column of desert air rose up and rushed forward. In front of him, glass display cases shivered and stone statuary wobbled. Alex bunched his fingers more tightly, and the wind gained focus and strength.

  The lioness staggered backward a few steps, her robes whipping in the sudden gust. The Order thug steadied her and the two leaned forward into it, like sailors weathering a storm on deck. If either of them had been the target, the attack would have been a failure. But Alex had another goal in mind.

  The heavy main door slammed shut. A thick crunch and a pitiable wail could just be heard over the whipping wind as the forearm of the man about to enter was pinned in place by the heavy door, with the rest of him still stuck outside.

  “That’s gonna leave a mark,” said Luke, wincing.

  Alex refocused just in time to see a red glow sprout from Peshwar’s closed right hand and form itself into something like an icicle: a jagged, uneven shard of crimson light. No sooner had Alex spotted it than she had whipped her hand back behind her head.
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  “Watch out!” said Todtman.

  Peshwar’s hand came forward in a blur, and the glowing energy dagger flew through the air — straight toward Ren. Alex looked over and saw her squinting at the glowing missile, trying to understand rather than avoid. He leapt toward her and gave her a two-handed shove. As she stumbled backward out of the way, the blood-red slice of light pierced the elbow of Alex’s outstretched left arm. He felt a staggering jolt of pain, as if someone had hit his funny bone with a red-hot sledgehammer.

  “Aaaaaah!” he shouted, dropping to one knee.

  “Alex!” called Ren, from the spot where she’d fallen.

  He looked up and saw her scrambling to her feet, the image refracted by the tears welling up in his eyes. Another blade of crimson light sizzled through the air as Ren headed toward him. She dodgeballed it with a quick stop and start, and it missed her stomach by inches. He could feel its heat as it passed between them — and hear the crunch of its impact.

  “No!” cried Hesaan.

  Alex whipped his head around in time to see a large alabaster urn topple off its pedestal. It hit the marble floor and shattered. Ancient ash spilled out and was instantly pulled up in a swirling dust devil. As the gray particles rose, the whispers rose up with them, louder now, angrier. The ash formed a face, deep black eyes and an open mouth, and then dispersed, falling back to the floor. The whispers persisted for a few moments more.

  “We cannot fight in here!” called Hesaan, his tone now pleading and desperate.

  The lioness disagreed. She had paused only briefly at the sight of the whirling visage, and now her hand glowed red as another energy dagger took form. Behind her, the first Order thug freed the arm of the second, and three more armed men surged through the open door.

  “We have to go!” called Ren.

  Alex wanted to stay and keep fighting, but he knew Ren was better at calculating the odds than he was. The friends were outnumbered and outgunned this time.

  “This way!” called Hesaan.

  Ren helped Alex to his feet, tugging him by his good arm.

  “Does it hurt?” she huffed through the effort.

  “Not too bad,” he answered, but his arm was hanging limp and a fire burned inside it.

  They used a statue and a sarcophagus for cover as they ran. Luke went wide, using his speed and agility to draw some attention from the main group. Alex heard the thick whisper of a silencer — Ffummp! — and then a bullet plinked off the heavy stone of the old sarcophagus. The friends made it around the corner and Hesaan squashed his palm into a fat red button on the wall. An alarm began a low, slow wail.

  “The police should be here,” huffed Hesaan, “sometime today.”

  “If The Order hasn’t paid them not to be,” Todtman puffed.

  Hesaan slammed a door behind them and quickly locked it.

  “At least it will take them some time to break through,” he said.

  “I doubt it,” said Alex. He knew Peshwar’s mask could wrangle locks as easily as his amulet, and the door was already opening as they hustled onward.

  “Where are we going?” called Ren.

  “I know a way,” said Todtman, over the sound of his cane’s feverish click-clacks. He turned to Hesaan. “Is the old passage still open?”

  “How do you know about that?” he said.

  “You forget,” said Todtman. “I did my college internship here.”

  Alex looked at Ren, wide eyed: Todtman in college?

  “This building really is old!” said Luke.

  They turned the next corner to the sound of rapid footsteps close behind them. Hesaan immediately disappeared into an office while Todtman ran more or less headfirst into a blank stretch of wall.

  “Wrong panel,” he said with a pained grunt.

  He took a quick step to the side and knocked.

  Hesaan came barreling back out of the office, a cricket bat held over his head and a maniacal look on his face.

  “I’ll hold them off!” he yelled as he charged back around the corner.

  Alex wasn’t sure if Hesaan was buying time for the group or trying to protect the artifacts. A little of both, Alex figured. But then he heard the sharp sound of a pistol handle to the skull and the dull thump of Hesaan’s stocky body hitting the floor.

  Todtman took a last, longing look toward the spot where his old friend had turned the corner, but his expression quickly hardened. “In here!” he said, pushing a wall panel inward.

  It was a secret door, revealing a dark passage beyond. Todtman held the panel open as they all squeezed inside. Alex went through first, then blindly shuffled forward to make room for the others. Once Todtman was inside, the panel snapped shut and light filled the narrow passage, pouring from the eyes of his falcon amulet.

  The passage was so narrow that only Ren could walk facing straight ahead. The others had to angle their shoulders to fit.

  “Forward, then right,” whispered Todtman.

  They stepped quietly and tried to calm their labored breathing. Alex held his injured elbow in close — it stung sharply every time he bumped the wall. His body cast a long shadow in front of him, the musty smell of old wood filled his nostrils, and little whirls of dust kicked up, daring him to sneeze. Outside the wall, he heard muffled voices and the crash of objects being overturned. They’re looking for us. But as they continued on, the noises faded behind them.

  “The exit’s just ahead,” said Todtman in a whisper.

  Alex had to give a pretty good push once he reached the end of the passage — bouncing hard against the wall with his good arm — but the old walls finally let them go. They emerged into the side courtyard of the museum, and the heat pounced on them like a waiting animal.

  “And that, right there, is why I don’t like museums,” said Luke, blinking back the bright sunlight.

  “I hope Hesaan is okay,” said Ren.

  “I can’t believe he did that,” said Alex. But while Ren sounded sympathetic and concerned, Alex was furious. He couldn’t help it. He had so many questions for Hesaan — burning questions about his mom, about airports and passports and the Valley of the Kings. And now he might never get to ask them.

  “Foreigners!” cried a man, pointing wildly at the group as it crossed the courtyard. “The invasion has begun!”

  No one bothered to ask what sort of invasion would begin with two twelve-year-olds, one thirteen-year-old, and an old man. Instead, Todtman quickly hailed a taxi and they poured themselves inside as the man continued to rant at their windows, amplifying the angry whispers in his head with his own hoarse cries.

  The ride back to the hideout was slow, but Alex didn’t mind some time off his feet not dodging energy daggers. A splotch of red around his elbow made it look like he’d dipped it in fruit punch. He gingerly tried to bend it. Sore, but it worked.

  “How is it?” said Ren, following his eyes.

  “Getting better,” he said. “It just kind of nicked me.”

  It scared him to think what a direct hit would feel like.

  They got out of the cab in front of a nicer building a few doors down from the hideout and waited until the driver pulled away before walking down the block.

  “How did it go?” Jinn asked as he let them in.

  Their body language gave him his answer: Alex holding his arm, Todtman’s limp worse than ever, Luke sweaty and spent, and Ren collapsing into the nearest chair.

  “Another ambush,” said Todtman.

  “Were you followed there?” said Jinn.

  Todtman shook his head. “We were careful — and still they were ready. Their timing was perfect …” He paused before delivering his verdict: “I believe we have been betrayed.”

  Ren sank deeper into the chair as the friends waited for Todtman to finish a hushed phone conversation in the next room. She was more wired than tired, but the old recliner was so worn out that the seat drooped in the middle. And the chair wasn’t the only thing giving her a sinking feeling. Todtman’s voice was playing
on a loop in her head: “We have been betrayed.”

  Todtman’s phone rang as soon as he returned. He didn’t leave the room to talk this time. He didn’t even answer, just looked down at the screen and silenced the ring.

  “Are you going to get it?” said Ren, though what she really meant was: Why aren’t you going to get it?

  “It is Hesaan,” he said.

  Jinn looked over. He clearly knew the name.

  “Don’t you want to see if he’s okay?” said Ren.

  “He is well enough to make a call,” said Todtman.

  “Talk to him! He could be really hurt,” she exclaimed — and then, embarrassed, realized what the others had already figured out.

  Ren had a habit of trusting highly educated people, but now she saw it. The first Order ambush had been outside the apartment the Supreme Council had arranged, and the second was at the museum it ran. And Hesaan was their contact at the Supreme Council. “Hesaan …”

  Todtman nodded.

  He waited for the call to end and then checked the voice message. It lasted about ten seconds. Ren heard a faint but rapid-fire barrage of words and saw Todtman’s frown sink lower.

  “What did he say?” said Alex.

  “He says that his head hurts … and they are gone.”

  “That dude’s lucky to still be making calls,” said Luke.

  “He says he was knocked out cleanly as soon as he turned the corner,” said Todtman. “Otherwise he’s sure they would have killed him. He says.”

  But it was clear from Todtman’s tone that he wasn’t sure of that at all.

  “So he’s a traitor,” said Luke, more as a statement than a question.

  Todtman looked at him carefully. “Possibly.”

  “I hate it when people switch teams,” Luke said.

  Jinn must have been thinking the same thing. He turned to Todtman. “Hesaan has been here,” he said, the concern clear in his voice. “Many times.”

  A jolt of panic shot through Ren. What if their safe house wasn’t so safe?

  “We need to get out of here,” Alex blurted, his voice loud, his words rushed. “We need to get to the Valley of the Kings! You heard what Hesaan said about the Spells, about my mom. She could be there right now.”