Get out your popcorn, tourists beware, here comes a paranormal adventure with a historical twist, set in Egypt--and Britain.
From Chapter 29 'Darkness': 'Did I just try to dive into that goo to get at a dead guy?' Trueth asked.
Define dead,' Me...
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As Trueth put down her fork, she noticed the professor was staring dolefully at his empty plate—a sad affair somehow in line with recent developments.
Francis Carter had been the first to return to the excavation. For once he used his brains and called management. The looters must have disappeared beforehand, leaving behind canvas bags and damaged tools. The Necropolis police were still conspicuous by their absence.
'I got hold of them eventually,' the professor said. 'They had spotted vehicles parked where they didn't belong. At least that's what they say. If you ask me, money has changed hands and as usual nobody is responsible.' He rose, opened the sideboard and helped himself to a Cognac.
'Anybody interested?' He waggled the bottle but received only head shakes in return.
'The inscription is still intact?' Metjen's mother asked.
'Yup.' He grinned. 'I'm not a fan of that wall, but it has fought back pretty successfully. And the flipping thing has finally given up its secret without releasing any surplus demons.'
The professor frowned. Trueth knew him well enough by now, him and his reservations about paranormal phenomena. He only believed in them when it suited him. He would be hard to convince.
'So all we need to do is to find the pylon of hope and whatever is underneath, unearth a couple of missing people and avoid unleashing the demons. Piece of cake.' Rani-Ra bit into her pastry and sprinkled her lacy blouse with sugar.
'And Iseret never once mentioned these sleepers,' her brother said.
Metjen's father had turned puce in the face. 'I've had enough of this lunacy. When I heard about the bit with the demons, I thought you guys had used too much incense.'
He gestured and knocked over the heavy ornamental vase which clonked onto the table and flooded the butter. Blondie shot out from underneath the furniture, howled and thundered up the stairs. The professor glowered after the cat.
'The idea somebody back in antiquity dropped demons on an unsuspecting population is idiotic enough. Instead of sorting out these imaginary black hordes, the authorities decide to move the whole civilisation into another world? Nice idea, but impossible. And then—oops, they break their key and leave things in the balance for a mere 5000 years? Sorry, I simply don't believe in escapist fantasies, especially not when they threaten my family.'
He turned towards the person he considered being responsible for his problems. 'You will sacrifice everything to get an inch closer to nowhere!'
'Not quite everything, no.' Metjen retorted to the reasonable tone parents use when confronted with an irate toddler. 'I agree it may sound weird, but you can't deny its happening.'
Trueth saw a vein throb in the professor's throat. 'Why are you doing this?'
'Doing what? I'm trying to save our temple. Plus, I'm curious what our ancestors have been up to. Now it appears there's even more at stake. I see no difference to you hankering after Imhotep?'
