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He didn’t know of any tiger-headed gods in Egypt, and he’d certainly never heard of nor seen any mummy displayed in this way before. It had also been surprisingly easy to get here, as none of the other chambers were sealed. He’d been able to walk right in, almost as if the mummy was waiting for him.
The thought made him laugh, and he wondered who this man was. He wasn’t the lost pharaoh Brendan had been searching for, but certainly he had to have been of great importance to be mummified in the image of a god.
Brendan couldn’t resist tiptoeing right up on the dais to get a closer look, and he gently touched the cheek of the gleaming cartonnage. He’d never seen any mask sculpted with such detail, and he couldn’t imagine a more incredible discovery than this.
“Beautiful,” he whispered.
It was then something even more unthinkable than this extraordinary find happened—the mummy moved. His broad chest heaved as if he’d been holding his breath, and he reached for Brendan.
Brendan shrieked and scrambled back so fast that he tripped over his own feet. He went down hard, groaning in pain when his head cracked against the stone. The flashlight went flying from his hand, skidding across the floor and creating jagged shadows that danced over the walls as it spun.
Heavy footsteps approached and strong hands grabbed Brendan’s arms. He grunted as he was gently lifted into a sitting position, and he struggled to focus his eyes on what or who was helping him.
Brendan opened his mouth to shout, but nothing came out.
It was themummy.
The mummy was crouched beside him, the painted eyes of his mask staring right at him, and he was gently holding Brendan’s shoulders.
It was impossible. Absolutely impossible, and yet, yes, the mummy was right here, moving and alive and—
“I’ve been waiting a long time for someone to come,” the mummy said, his voice low and rumbling like thunder.
—talking.
The mummy wastalking.
He gingerly touched the back of Brendan’s head. “You’re wounded.”
Brendan stared at the stained bandages, trying to get his brain to process everything that was happening. He was honestly unsure if he was hallucinating or not. “Blood? That’s my blood. Wow. It’s so red…”
“You do not look well.” The mummy sounded concerned.
“You… you can see through that thing?”
“Yes.”
Brendan’s head throbbed, and the room spun. He lurched forward, bracing himself on the mummy’s broad chest. Even through the bandages, he could feel rippling muscle and surprising warmth. “I might throw up. Or faint. Or both. Both might happen.” He took a deep breath. “You are not Pharaoh Ramses VIII.”
“No.” The mummy lifted his hand, and sconces along the wall suddenly lit up with fire, illuminating the chamber as he intoned, “I am Seba, son of Osiris.”
“Osiris…” Brendan scrunched his face. “He didn’t have any son named Seba.”
“I assure you that he did. Perhaps you are misinformed.”
“No… No, that’s not possible. I know everything about Egypt. I know about thelettuce.”
“If you’re going to swoon, you should lie back down.” Seba pressed his hand back to the wound on Brendan’s head. “It is bleeding very badly.”
“I’m… I’m fine. Maybe.” Brendan groaned as he swayed back. He teetered over, and he gasped as Seba caught him and then scooped him right off the floor. The pressure in his head was getting worse, and he was too weak to struggle as Seba carried him through a doorway Brendan swore wasn’t there just a few moments ago.
More sconces lit up as they entered a large bed chamber, a lavish space fit for a king with a big golden bed adorned with silk sheets and jewels. There were shining treasures, tall statues, and the walls here were painted in a traditional Egyptian style. There were elaborate murals of the many gods, including a tiger-headed deity he assumed was Seba. While some were clearly ancient, a few appeared quite new as if having been added by Seba himself recently.
It was hard to enjoy the beautiful sights since everything continued to spin, and Brendan groaned as Seba laid him down in the bed. He clung to Seba’s beefy shoulders, “I sh-shouldn’t be here. This is not mine, and… and… and I’m bloody. And dirty. And I still kinda wanna throw up.”
“Stay,” Seba said, the firmness of his tone and his giant hand on Brendan’s chest making a very compelling argument. “You need to rest.”
“Resting… uh… might be good.” Brendan didn’t know why, but he put his hand on top of Seba’s, gulping nervously. “I thought I had discovered Ramses VIII’s tomb. I didn’t think I’d find anything like you…” His heart thudded heavily beneath Seba’s warm palm. “I don’t know who you are, and I think I would… I would have definitely remembered you.”
