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Carol stands and carefully peers where I’m pointing. "Mary, there’s nothing there. It’s just the usual hazy light the NYC night sky always has."

She takes her phone and takes a picture of exactly where I'm pointing, and when she shows it to me, I don't see a vibrant sea of stars or even the black of the night sky. I just see the strange pink, yellow, gray haze of light pollution.

I look back at the sky, seeing the stars all too clearly. "No, that's impossible; it's right there."

"How much have you had to drink?" Terry asks in a concerned voice.

"No, I've barely had a drink."

My mind races, trying to think of how to prove I'm not crazy. It settles on the only other person I know who has seen the stars.

I leave my friends and rush down to find my date. I hurry to the bathroom and knock on the door. "Kayvon, hurry up, I need you."

I wait and wait, and then when the lock on the door finally clicks open, a stranger, someone I barely recognize as an acquaintance dressed as a werewolf, comes out looking confused.

I go back through the party, even checking the bathroom again, and eventually reality dawns on me: Kayvon is nowhere to be found; he left! I pull out my phone and call and text, but nothing—not even a read receipt; every call goes straight to voicemail.

At that, I go back to the roof, feeling everything from furious to utterly defeated. Carol and Terry are quick to console me as I lean against the fencing at the edge of the roof.

Carol rubs circles into my back, muttering something I barely catch. Lost in my thoughts, I only register her words when she gently tilts my head up and repeats, "Isn’t that your date?"

I look down to the street below where I see Kayvon, or who I know must be Kayvon because I can't imagine why anyone else would be wearing that much toilet paper, and suddenly my blood is boiling as I see him run across the museum steps.

"That asshole!"

My friends’ protests trail me as I bolt out the door, down the stairs, and across the street, nearly getting hit by a taxi in the process. The driver honks, and I give him the finger as a sign of respect before running in the direction I saw Kayvon heading. The farther I go, the more I hear grunting and strange whooshing, like gusts of wind. I notice people in the park behaving oddly, some rubbing their heads, others sneering at nothing, which I only catch because I’m scanning every face for Kayvon’s.

"Where are you, asshole? Bathroom my ass!"

I turn the corner of the building and, just by the obelisk behind the museum, I see Kayvon in the park lights. I start running, and along the way, I slowly realize he's not looking around, but up. Once I'm out from under the trees around the museum, I finally see what he's looking at, or perhaps, what's looking at him.

I skid to a stop, eyes locking on the massive shadow swirling in the funnel. The inverted cone has become a shifting mass of billowing darkness that warps the shadows around me. From its smoky form, I glimpse a bird’s head crowned with two black bull horns, and giant bat-like wings flapping through the fog. It is absolutely intent on chasing Kayvon.

All I can do is stare in disbelief, as I try to make sense of the scene. It's not real; it can't be real; it's a trick of the light, just like the sky and the shadows.

My heart plummets as I remember the dig, that unsettling feeling, that strange fifth canopic jar. I drop to my knees, wishing I could go back and finish the work I should have done—on the dig, on that jar, on the curse. But it’s too late; the mummy’s curse is loose, right here before me. I brought it here, and now it’s going to hurt someone I care about.

The creature positions itself right above Kayvon, but the man doesn't look even a little perturbed, standing his ground, clutching something around his neck as he stares up. Then it swoops, and I pathetically yelp out, "No!"

I think that little squeak is the first time he notices me. Our eyes meet for the briefest moment, his gaze full of apology, just before the creature’s massive, smoky form engulfs Kayvon with an earth-shattering crash.

Chapter seven

Truth and Reconciliation

That can’t be real; this can’t be happening. I look up to see the black, clouded form stirring, coiled where it landed on Kayvon. Any trace of sadness or dread vanishes, replaced by a blinding, protective rage. I scramble to my feet and scream, launching myself in a sprint toward the beast. Deep down, I know I should be terrified, but that fear is crushed, suffocated by the fierce certainty that Kayvon is mine, and this thing cannot take him.

I close the distance, crossing a footpath, my mummy costume bunching at my ankles as I desperately try to figure out how to fight a shadow. At that moment, the shadow turns, clearly confused by the wild woman barreling toward it.

No—it’s not confused by me.

The closer I get, the more I notice a pulsing glow inside the smoke. The creature stumbles, almost as bewildered as I am, until suddenly a column of fire erupts from what I think is its chest. Another column bursts from its side, then another from its head, until it's engulfed in a fireball. Its smoky form shrinks, then vanishes into the night sky.

Where it stood moments ago, a swirling inferno flickers out, revealing Kayvon beneath the settling ash, his toilet paper costume turning to embers.

He’s still clutching his necklace, staring up, chest heaving as he finishes a phrase I can’t comprehend. I know it isn’t Arabic; the words are too rounded, but he says them with such authority and volume that they can only be a recitation or prayer.

His breathing slows. He drops his necklace, coughing and catching himself in a crouch. Without thinking, I stumble forward and slip an arm around him, steadying him out of pure instinct.