Zahra grinned. And yet, Mom married a white guy from Long Island.
George’s love of Ancient Egypt had spilled over into his love of the people of the country. He had spent as much time abroad as possible, but as fate had decided, he wouldn’t meet his future spouse in Egypt. Egypt had come to the States to meet him. The young woman had owned a pair of striking eyes — eyes that were eventually handed down to her firstborn, Zahra Amelia.
“Yeah, of course, I still have it,” Zahra replied, still eyeing the heirloom. She put the call on speakerphone and brought the device in front of her face.
“Excellent,” Baahir replied, wheezing for breath. “Keep it safe. They know you have it, and they’re coming for it.”
“Who — what are you talking about, Baahir?” Zahra asked, confused.
“I… I found it, Zahra. I found the original Book of the Dead, and now they are trying to take it and kill me.”
Zahra’s eyes went wide. Though she hadn’t talked to her brother in some time, she knew he had become increasingly obsessed with the legend. The fact he believed that he had found it and that someone was currently trying to kill him and take it confirmed that it did, in fact, exist. Baahir was a lot of things, but a liar wasn’t one of them. If anything, he was honest to a fault.
“Holy shit, Baahir!” Zahra pushed away from her desk. She stood and paced the room. Grant noticed the commotion from the other room and stepped inside. She paid her colleague no attention, focusing on her brother’s words instead. “And our family’s jar? How does it figure into this?”
“The temple — the one we found the scroll in — there was an engraving of it there, alongside Anubis and the story of the scroll. They are connected. These people…” he sounded winded. “They believe the same as our mother did.”
Zahra paused her steps and stared through the wall. The myths surrounding the jar and Anubis had always interested Zahra as a kid, but they had only been stories, and nothing more.
Right? Zahra thought, unsure.
“What are you saying, Baahir? Are you telling me that hellstone is real — that all the crap Mom spoke about was true?”
Baahir’s footfalls fell silent. Zahra guessed that he had paused to catch his breath. The volume of his voice dropped to a whisper.
“The people trying to kill me think so.” He quickly recounted what had happened since he first arrived on the scene back at the golf course. “And their leader. He’s a man I’ve heard of… and not in a good way. I believe he’s involved with the Scales of Anubis.”
Zahra nearly blurted out a laugh. “Really? The ‘Scales of Anubis?’”
“Yes, Zahra.” He started to run again. “Our mother knew a lot more about this than we thought.”
“But why?” Zahra asked, confused and concerned. “What was she involved in, Baahir?”
But he didn’t answer.
“Baahir?”
“Shhh,” Baahir replied, shushing her. “Hang on a second.”
Grant was now standing opposite her desk, listening intently. Zahra didn’t care that he was poking his head in her family’s business. His interest in the goings-on was the least of her worries right now.
“Zahra, I’m starting to think that our mother’s death wasn’t an accident.”
The statement hit Zahra hard. The accident had been labeled as a simple hit and run by the police. But Zahra specifically remembered the fear in her parents’ voices. They had been hunted by someone that wanted them dead.
Our mother died because of what she knew. Zahra sighed. But if that’s true, why didn’t Dad look into things deeper?
Zahra and her father needed to have a face-to-face about it.
“Hang on, Baahir. Back it up a little. I thought Mom and Dad bought the jar from a street vendor?”
“But where did the vendor get it from?” Baahir countered.
“Or…” Zahra said, “they lied to us about its origin.”
“That is also a possibility.”
Zahra didn’t have a real answer. She had assumed that the vendor had made it, or possibly bought it from the person who had built it, though it was also just as likely that the vendor had discovered it, or even stolen it from the person who had. Then, he sold it to the Kanes before he could be implicated in its theft. Now, Zahra’s family was squarely in these people’s crosshairs — whoever the hell they were.
The Scales of Anubis? Really?
“Dammit!” Baahir hissed.
“What is it?” Zahra asked, picturing her brother slinking in and out of the shadows. She sat at her desk and closed her eyes, concentrating on the call.
Baahir spoke, his voice incredibly low. “Another car is blocking the parking lot. Two more men just climbed out. I have to — oh, God.”
“Baahir?”
“The man — I think he saw me,” Baahir explained, his voice catching.
“Rahal?” Zahra asked, recalling his name.
“Yes, him. Look, I don’t have much time. Keep the jar safe. Do whatever you have to do. I trust you, Zahra.” He took a deep breath. “But if you can’t protect it… destroy it. They cannot come into possession of it.”
“Baahir?” she asked, waiting for a reply. But none came. She launched back to her feet. Zahra’s office chair zoomed across the space and slammed into something with a crash of glass. She held her phone out in front of her face. “Baahir!”
She eyed the screen.
Call Ended.
Grant stepped around her desk and reached a gentle hand out for her shoulder. “You okay, Zah —?”
She tossed her phone on her desk and pushed Grant away, diving for her computer. Zahra’s fingers flew over the keyboard with lightning speed. She knew a lot about the shadowy organization that Baahir had mentioned, but she didn’t know everything.
As soon as she entered the Google search, the lights in her office, and presumably the entire museum, went out, as did the Wi-Fi. Red emergency lights came to life, basking Zahra and Grant in their eerie, hellish glow.
“What happened?” Grant asked, slinking back.
Zahra looked down at her phone, then back to her now blank computer screen. Her brother’s warning was swiftly coming to fruition.
Her eyes shifted to her terrified assistant. “They’re here.”
“Who’s here?” Grant asked. His voice and hands shook.
Zahra faced the office door. “Trouble.”
Chapter 17
Bernie
Twenty years ago, Bernie Switzer had described the museum’s sizeable remodel as a ‘physical violation.’ But as time went by, the head of the night guard really did love what the Great Court had become. He presently stood near the center of the yawning room, in front of the cylindrical Reading Room situated there, lost in the wonder above him. On multiple occasions, each and every evening, he could be found just standing in this exact spot, staring up at the ceiling. He couldn’t see them, but Bernie pictured the stars shining bright, high overhead. Working nights made it difficult for him to enjoy the burning balls of firelight. He smiled. The 3,312 triangles of glass that made up the ceiling were all the stars he needed.