A Life of Death: Episodes 9 - 12 (10 page)

Both professors shook their heads. “No,” Dr. Mayna replied. “We know a lot about it, but human sacrifice was practically nonexistent in Egyptian history, unless you believe that theory we talked about before. We have evidence that some civilizations practiced it, especially in South America, but probably not the Egyptians.”

Dr. Kamal held up his hand to stop her. “That isn’t false, but it’s not quite true either. We don’t know much about the early dynasties of Egypt and the predynastic period, but there is a theory about Abydos and the early pharaohs of the first dynasty.”

“What’s Abydos?”

“A capital city, and one of the most important cities in all Upper Egypt. It was called Abdju back then, but it is said by some that during the first dynasty of Egypt, they
may
have sacrificed courtiers and high officials, or had them commit suicide. This was done so they could be buried in the royal tombs and serve the pharaoh in the Duat after death. There is little to no evidence of this beyond their buried bodies accompanying the pharaohs’, but some think it is so.”

“Then where did this woman get the idea to sacrifice these people, her
golden bulls
?” I asked, emphasizing the murderer’s lunatic name for them.

The Egyptian professor shrugged. “It’s almost like she’s picking and choosing bits of history. The bull was symbolic of Osiris, and they valued gold. There may even be some odd translation of a text she read about. From the chanting you mentioned, it could even be a funerary spell. We will probably never know.”

“She has to know a lot about ancient Egypt though, right? Especially if she’s casting spells.”

“Yes, but I don’t think she has a firm grasp of the history,” Dr. Mayna replied. “It’s like Dr. Kamal said: she’s picking and choosing. She knows quite a lot about it, but that could be from the internet for all we know. You yourself found it to be helpful, although not quite perfect.”

“True,” I said, looking down at the floor. How many people’s lives could have been spared if I’d just made the trip to speak with people who know? Would this information have made a difference? I didn’t know, but I still hadn’t caught her yet, and other lives were at stake.
Less than three days left
, but I was close. The victims’ ghosts knew it, and I felt it in my bones. “Look, my flight home is tonight, and I’ve got to talk to Jessie before then. If we’re going to take a look at that last John Doe—”

“Curly,” Dr. Mayna interrupted with a smile.

“Curly,” I said with a nod and continued. “Then we need to get to it. Who knows how long this will take?” A panicked thought struck me. “This guy’s not from the first dynasty is he? I’ve been burnt alive too many times to count in the last twenty-four hours.”

The university professor’s eyes widened as though just realizing the enormity of what I’d endured since she saw me last.

“I’d also rather not end up in a coma,” I added.

“No,” Dr. Mayna whispered. “He should be from around three thousand years ago, too. At least, that’s what we think. Carbon dating puts it around there, give or take a hundred years.”

“Thanks,” I said and followed the two of them back through the gallery and labs into the room we’d visited yesterday. It was empty, either the result of it being a Saturday and or because Dr. Mayna made sure we had the room to ourselves. Either way, I was appreciative.

Curly still lay where I’d seen him before. The remains of the woman were nowhere to be found. “Where’d Sacmis go?”

“She’s in another room now while we further excavate around her hand. It’s a long process, and people will want to know about that artifact you found.”

Dr. Kamal added, “It didn’t take long to convince my superiors at Cairo University to allow further excavation. If I hadn’t been here, though, I know they would have demanded Sacmis be sent home.”

“Just based on Alex’s vision?” Dr. Mayna asked.

“No, based on you damaging the artifact without permission.”

“I didn’t damage it!” she shouted.

Dr. Kamal held up both hands, motioning for her to stop. “I know that, but that’s what they would have seen if I weren’t here to vouch for you. I trust you, Lilly. I know what’s happened. I believe Alex, but not everyone thinks as I do. They are very protective of our history. So much of it has been destroyed or stolen already. Just think how much knowledge was lost when the Library of Alexandria and Serapis were burnt.”

Dr. Mayna’s chin fell to her chest. “I know. Thank you, Mohammed.”

Silence permeated the room as she avoided looking at him. Evidently there was a past between them that I wasn’t aware of. “Well,” I said, breaking the silence as though it were an ice-covered lake, “let’s get to Curly, shall we?”

The two professors huddled around his bones.

“What can you tell me about him?” I asked, pulling up the stool.

Dr. Mayna crossed her arms and stared at the skeleton in the large box between us. “His bones were broken,” she said, waving her hand at the contents, “as you can see. We found most of them, at least we think we did. We pieced them together, but it’s like they’re fused with other bones or something. It’s been a difficult process.”

“But you were evidently able to make out that this was a guy?”

“Yes, a boy, around puberty.”

Dr. Kamal stared at the hundreds of bones, most no bigger than an inch or less, all arranged into the form of a human skeleton. The Egyptian doctor’s dark eyebrows were furrowed in thought.

I looked back at the remains and spotted a quarter-sized, green stone in the shape of a beetle off to the side. Time had taken its toll on the small item, and whatever was used originally to paint the stone had flaked off, but a shadow of the original image remained. There was even a hole drilled through each side of the beetle’s head, as though it could have been worn on a chain or necklace. “What’s that?” I asked, pointing.

“It was found with the body,” Dr. Mayna replied.

“It’s a scarab,” Dr. Kamal mumbled, his accent so thick I could barely make out his low words. “They were believed to be good luck and help the dead transform into whatever they would become in the afterlife.” He leaned forward and plucked the stone from the elongated box.

Dr. Mayna’s mouth opened as though to say something, but no words came out.

Dr. Kamal nodded and asked, “Are you sure this scarab was found with the body?”

“Yes,” she said.

Closing his eyes, he slowly ran his thumb along the bottom of the stone, his bearded mouth forming subtle words without saying a thing. I wanted to say something just to ensure some ghost hadn’t discovered a way to mute the world around me to get my attention. I glanced around the room, but saw nothing.

Finally the Egyptian professor opened his eyes. “Nakhtiokpara,” he said. The words resounded through the room. “That was his name. It means ‘Strong firstborn’.”

“You sure?” Dr. Mayna asked.

“Yes, the person’s name was often inscribed on the bottom or the back of the stone. His is here.” Dr. Kamal rotated the stone for both of us to see the minute markings. They’d faded so much I could barely see more than a couple scratches. “You can feel them,” he said, “like braille.” He rolled the stone in his hands and peered at the back for a couple minutes.

I examined the skeleton once more, leaning over to inspect each part. “Was there an impact wound?”

Dr. Mayna didn’t acknowledge the question. Instead she asked in a curious tone, “What’d you find, Mo—I mean Dr. Kamal.”

I caught sight of her glancing at me warily, which reaffirmed my suspicions. They were more than colleagues. However, their love life was none of my business. It might concern Dr. Kamal’s many wives, but if he already had three, maybe he was looking for Mrs. Four.

Dr. Kamal nodded at the stone. “Spell thirty from the
Book of the Dead
, I think. It’s chiseled into the stone like the name, but I can only make out a phrase here and there. See, here it says, ‘O my heart which I had from my mother.’ That is a normal phrase from the beginning. Here,” he said, pointing at one small section with the tip of a finger, “is where it talks about the balance. It reads, ‘Do not rise up against me as a witness in the presence of the Lord of Things.’ It is the heart spell.” The Egyptian professor stared into the distance and began reciting the entire spell from memory, as it would have been said in ancient Egypt.

His words made no sense, but kindled a memory from the previous night. As I stood strapped to the playhouse, the beast’s chanting melded with Dr. Kamal’s. The words were the same. I struggled to think of other visions where I’d heard the odd chanting and brought to mind a few, but my mind still wasn’t what it should have been. However slowly, the memories surfaced, but the words were different. “That’s what the murderer was chanting during Kevin Simmons’ ritual sacrifice.”

He stopped mid-phrase.

“She chanted other things for the other murders, but that was one of them. What did you call it?”

The Egyptian professor swallowed and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “The heart spell. Then it’s as I suspected. She’s reading from the
Book of the Dead
, and in Ancient Egyptian no less.”

I nodded, having already come to the language conclusion after the previous day’s early visions. “I’ll catch her. Right now we’re running out of time.”

The skeleton looked twisted and grotesque, as though the archeologists might have mismatched some of the parts. “What can you tell me about how Nakhtiokpara died?” I asked.

“Well, the biggest thing is that he was born with a disease that affected his bones,” Dr. Mayna answered. “He had massive deformations throughout his body. We’re really not even sure how he survived to adolescence with this many skeletal problems. They didn’t have the healthcare we do today, and this looks to be something most people die from before they reach ten years old.”

“So there was no other likely cause of death?” I asked.

“No, we suspect it was the disease. However, his bones were found in such disarray that nothing is certain.”

“If the disease took him, I’m not sure I’ll be able to do anything for you, but we’ll see.” My hand hovered over what looked to be parts of Curly’s shin bone. I licked my lips and muttered, “Here goes nothin’.” Touching the tips of my fingers to the bones, my body stiffened in anticipation, but no vision came. I glanced up at Dr. Mayna.

“Anything?” she asked.

I shook my head.

“Where did you touch the other skeletons?” asked Dr. Kamal.

“On the wound,” I answered. “I guess this means it probably wasn’t the disease that killed him. Otherwise, I’d think most of his bones would contain the memory… assuming there is one at all.”

Dr. Mayna nodded.

“May I see that?” I asked, holding my hand out for the scarab gem.

I prepared myself for what might come, holding my breath as Dr. Kamal handed it to me. However, nothing happened. I breathed out a sigh of partial relief and handed it back.
Maybe one of the other bones?
Stepping up to the upper portion of the body, I gently grasped the edge of a shoulder between two fingers. Still nothing. Bracing myself once more, I touched the shattered remains of the skull, but got nothing: no scents of aged leather, antiques, or even a dimming of the lights.

Dr. Mayna frowned. “I guess you came out here for nothing this time.”

“Maybe,” I mumbled, but then spotted a solid, curved section of what looked to be ribs, but they seemed to have grown together into a four-inch wide triangle: what was left of his ribcage. It was one of the largest sections of skeleton remaining. “You said his bones were deformed, right?”

Dr. Mayna nodded. “Yes.”

“That doesn’t happen to leave sharp indentations, does it?”

“It can leave pockmarks, pitting, divots, and such. What’s on your mind?”

I leaned over, pointing at the piece that was now mere inches away. “What happened to the bottom of his ribcage?” A chip large enough for me to spot from a few feet away was gouged from the bottom rib.

She stepped closer and bent to peer at it. With a delicate hand, she lifted the shard and admired the jagged edge I’d indicated.

“Is that natural?”

“No,” she whispered. Then louder she said, “But it does appear to have happened before his death. The bone seems to have remodeled itself. He must have gone for ages with this for it to have healed that much. It shouldn’t have killed him.”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that,” I said, coming around the table. Holding my hand out palm up, I said, “Do you mind?”

She gently sat it in my palm, and an immediate wind blew through the room. Papers scattered from the office desk and notes stirred from under manila folders that researchers had left on the countertops. “Mohammed, check the windows. If I find out who left it open, I’m gonna have their hide.”

Dr. Kamal went to the far window while Dr. Mayna grabbed at papers and checked the window latches on the nearest wall. I was immobilized as a voice echoed in my ears, chanting like Dr. Kamal had done earlier. This voice was different, a tenor, and distant, as though it were travelling on the wind and over the seas. The subtle beat of drums grew in the background like a voice or sound you might imagine accompanying the waves of the ocean when you hold a conch shell to your ear.
It’s not the wind,
I tried to say, but the words only drifted through my mind. My eyelids grew heavy as the scent of antiqued leather drifted to my nose. Trying again, I managed to whisper, “Be right back,” before my eyes shut and the world vanished from around me. The last sight I had was of Dr. Mayna in her lab coat pausing to gape at me.