Billy regained consciousness. He was lying on his back and realized with terror that he had been placed in an open coffin. He tried to sit up, but couldn’t; his body felt stiff, his arms and legs wouldn’t obey him. Perhaps it was a side effect of travelling through the sand circle? He attempted to flex his fingers and failed. He tried to call out but his voice was muffled by something…
Finally Billy understood what was wrong: he couldn’t move because his arms were secured across his chest. He couldn’t speak because his lips were lost beneath the folds of grave clothes. He’d been bound from head to toe in linen bandages. Only Billy’s eyes were free. Free to panic. Free to be afraid.
Billy pushed those emotions down. He needed to keep a clear head if he was going to get out of this.
Over the sound of blood pounding in his ears, Billy could hear voices chanting – low words, filled with dark intent. There was also the mummy’s unmistakable moan. But one voice rose above them all, a voice full of anger and authority. It was disturbingly familiar. He had to see!
Billy strained against his bandage wrappings, tugging and heaving against his bonds until they loosened enough for him to prop himself up on his elbows. Lifting his head above the lip of the coffin, Billy saw that he was in the temple from his vision. He searched for the owner of that angry voice and found him sitting on a golden throne.
You.
The Sandman was exactly how Angry Annie had described him. Tall, lean, with an angular face and dark eyes outlined in thick black make-up. The shaven head glistened in the flickering torchlight. Billy swallowed hard. He had seen the Sandman before. Spoken with him. Slept in the same house as him. Even though the Sandman was wearing flowing white robes instead of a black suit, bow tie, white shirt and gloves, there was no mistaking the man.
Billy felt furious with himself for missing the clues. He couldn’t believe that he had been tricked by such a simple disguise. Billy spotted what looked like a large grey rat squatting beside the throne. That was no rat, it was Cowley’s wig! Not a hair out of place!
Sir Gordon’s butler had been working against them from the very start. And now Billy was completely at his mercy.
Cowley was not alone. The strange creatures from Billy’s vision stood silently before the Sandman’s throne. They wore the same elegant robes as Cowley but their heads shone like gold. Part human, part monster; all terror. They cast fearsome shadows up the temple walls; a lioness, a crocodile and a jackal. The gods of Egypt. What had Charley said they were called? Ah yes, Sekhmet, Sobek and Anubis. These were the monsters Billy had seen in his vision.
Billy shuddered. The Sandman was more powerful than they had possibly imagined if he had three gods of ancient Egypt at his command. This was going to be a lot harder than catching a pixie or charming a mermaid.
“Come!” Cowley commanded, clapping his hands and summoning the mummy. Obediently the mummy shuffled forwards, carrying the leather satchel that it had stashed Lord Wintersfall’s treasures in. The hole that Billy had blasted through the creature had not healed and thin traces of sand continued to drip from it like blood.
Cowley held out his hands and the mummy opened the satchel and poured out its contents. Gold necklaces, gold earrings, gold bracelets, pearls, diamonds and rubies came spilling out. So many jewels that Cowley couldn’t hold them all and they overflowed onto the stone temple floor. Last of all came the massive ruby known as the Phoenix Egg.
Sekhmet, Anubis and Sobek drew near and bowed their heads to their master.
Sobek the crocodile whistled. It was a strangely human sound, Billy thought, and it was followed by some very human words. “Slap my leg and call me Susan,” said Sobek. “This is even better than the last time.”
Sekhmet the lioness shuffled a bit and the Sandman glowered at her. “Don’t you give me that look,” said Sekhmet, her voice oddly muffled. “I’ve been standing up for ages…and this headdress weighs a ton.”
“She’s right,” chipped in Anubis. “How come you get the chair every time?”
“We’ve been through this before,” snapped Cowley.
“Are we going to be much longer, do you think?” asked Sobek. The crocodile god fished inside his white robe and pulled out a pocket watch, holding it up to the eyeholes of what Billy now saw was a golden mask. “Time really is getting on, and I’ll be in terrible trouble if I don’t get back in time for my morning duties.”
So they aren’t really gods at all, Billy realized with relief. Cowley’s accomplices were just humans. Evil humans in fancy dress.
Cowley shot to his feet, his bald head glistening, anger flashing across his face. “Enough of your snivelling!” he roared. “We are in this together…but never forget that it was my knowledge, my efforts and my plan that brought us this far!” He slumped back down, his chest rising and falling with emotion.
When he spoke again his voice was back under control. “Surely none of you want to turn away now? Think of the rewards for one small sacrifice.”
“What are you on about?” asked Sobek the crocodile. “What sacrifice?”
“Human sacrifice,” hissed the Sandman, his voice dripping with malice. “Our meddling young police officer over there has poked his nose in one too many times.”
It hit Billy like a steam train, knocking all the air from his lungs. That’s me Cowley’s talking about. He’s going to cut out my heart to make himself immortal!
“Human sacrifice!” spluttered Sobek the crocodile. Or rather, said the man inside the stuffy crocodile mask. “You’re going too far, Cowley. We never talked about killing anyone.”
Sekhmet the lioness and Anubis the jackal made noises of agreement. Cowley said nothing, although his fists clenched and unclenched on the arms of his golden throne.
Sobek continued. “When we started this scheme, you said that we could get our own back and I was fine with that. But this new plan of yours is too much. Killing a police officer…? We can’t.”
“I agree,” said Sekhmet. “Lady Tiffin is a right old cow and I wanted to make her suffer a bit, but there’s a difference between stealing stuff and murder! We’ll all be hanged.”
Anubis the jackal chipped in. “I’m in it for the money, plain and simple. I thought that was what this was about, making us rich. I never really understood why we have to wear these fancy-dress costumes that you’re so keen on, and I have no intention of continuing with your crackpot scheme. I’ll take my share of the jewels, thank you very much, then I’m packing my bags and I’m on the first train out of Edinburgh.”
“I’m with you,” Sobek the crocodile agreed. “I’ve had enough of this.”
Cowley broke his silence with a whisper, somehow more powerful, more terrifying than any shout. “You are going nowhere,” he rasped. “You ungrateful imbeciles.”
“Just try and stop me,” said Anubis. “Come on,” he urged the other two. “Let’s leave him to it.”
“You really don’t understand, do you?” said Cowley, fingering his gold necklace. “I wear the Eye of Horus, I control the mummy and this isn’t over until I say it’s over.”
Anubis made a dash for the door, half stumbling over the hem of his white robe in his rush to be free of Cowley and his madness.
“Stop him!” Cowley ordered his undead servant. The mummy jerked into life. The bandage-wrapped head snapped round, eyeless gaze locking on Anubis. The jaw twitched and the mouth snapped, yellow teeth clacking together, like an insane clockwork toy. Then the arms rose and the mummy staggered across the chamber on stiff legs, slowly at first but gaining momentum with each step.