Unexpectedly a hand burst through the swirling wall. “I’m comin’ with ye, miss,” said Doogie, stepping into the magick circle with her.
“Doogie! That was stupid of you!” Charley snapped. “You could have been torn in two, standing half in and half out of the portal!” Her voice softened. “Stupid, but very brave.”
The whirlwind surrounded them completely. Charley caught a fleeting flash of white above her head and as some loose feathers began to spin around them, Charley realized that Queen Victoria had flown into the gateway too. Honestly, was there anyone who wasn’t coming? Oh yes. Sir Gordon. She could just make him out through the blizzard of sand…he was waving…then he totally disappeared from view.
Charley became aware that the conservatory had vanished too. It wasn’t just hidden behind the wall of sand – it had gone. Beyond the vortex there was only a sea of black stretching in every direction. As vast as the ocean. As high as the sky. Doogie reached out and grabbed her arm, more for his comfort than for hers she suspected. Charley clenched her revolver even more firmly as the portal took them deeper into the darkness. There was no up any more, no down. Just emptiness for ever…
Except that it wasn’t really empty. Charley had worked for S.C.R.E.A.M. for long enough to know that the spiritual realm – whatever you wanted to call it – was real. Just as real as the flesh-and-blood, bricks-and-mortar world. Angels and demons and things all existed. She had seen some of them. Shot some too. And this magick door that the Sandman had created was taking them on a shortcut via one of those spirit realms.
Charley had no idea how long they had been travelling. It might have been a split second or a thousand years. She was pleased that Doogie had been foolish enough to come with her now. And even more pleased when the sandstorm started to slow.
It was only then that Charley spotted the terrible fault in her plan. She had completed the magick circle having no idea where it would take her. Was she going to find herself back at Lady Tiffin’s house or Lavinia Fitzpatrick’s front room? Charley’s theory was that each crime scene had two portals – an entrance and an exit – and that the “exit” sand circle led directly to the Sandman’s lair. Wherever that might be. But it was still just a theory.
The vortex was beginning to thin and Charley squinted through the sand as she tried to make out where they had materialized. “Definitely not Lady Fitzpatrick’s,” she breathed, as she took in their surroundings. Tall pillars supported a roof which had been painted to look like the night sky. Blazing braziers provided a flickering light which glinted off a golden throne and three animal-headed gods. They had landed in an Egyptian temple.
“Jings,” gasped Doogie, brushing at the sand that covered them both. “I guess we’re not in Scotland any more.”
“Shhhh,” Charley warned, all of her police instincts tingling. They were seriously outnumbered here.
Charley still held her pistol in front of her. There were five possible targets and six bullets in the chamber. Squinting along the barrel, Charley quickly passed over the mummy – who hadn’t been stopped by bullets the last time. There were three gods in a row, Sobek, Sekhmet and Anubis – what good would bullets be against them? She let her aim rest on a bald man who matched the description of the Sandman. He was holding a knife which he seemed intent on plunging into Billy, who – she realized to her horror – was tied up and helpless in a coffin. Charley levelled her gun and took aim; she’d soon put a stop to that!
At this range the mysterious Sandman seemed oddly familiar. Although she could only see the back of his head, the villain looked remarkably like Mr Cowley. Charley could slap herself for not having realized sooner – it was so obvious now! She held the gun a little tighter, her finger hovering on the trigger.
Charley squinted down the barrel of her pistol…she wouldn’t kill Cowley, but she could shoot the knife from his hand. What might happen after that was anybody’s guess. The only thing that was on their side right now was the element of surprise—
“We are not amused!” shrieked Queen Victoria as she flapped around the temple, ruining everything. Charley toyed with the idea of shooting the blasted bird instead.
The Sandman turned to face her. “We meet again, Miss Steel.”
“Mr Cowley,” said Charley. “So it’s true what they say. It really is hard to get good staff nowadays…” She eased back on the hammer and cocked her gun. “Now put the dagger down, slowly—”
“Or what?” Cowley challenged, still brandishing the bone knife above Billy. “Don’t just stand there, you imbeciles!” He snapped his fingers at his henchmen. “Get them! She’s just a girl playing at being in the police – she wouldn’t dare—”
Charley pulled the trigger as the three gods rushed towards her. She dared all right.
Click!
The gun didn’t fire. Charley pulled the trigger again. Another click. It was jammed.
“The mechanism is clogged with sand, I imagine,” said Cowley, gloating. “The gateways are swift, but they aren’t the cleanest form of travel.”
With a very unladylike cuss, Charley hurled her useless weapon at the nearest attacker. It hit the crocodile-headed god squarely in the face, leaving a dent in his mask. Not immortal after all, she thought with a smirk, and more than a little relief.
Sekhmet the lioness made a grab for Doogie, who ducked and swung his best punch, catching Sekhmet in the pit of the stomach. Sobek the crocodile was closing in on Charley. She backed away as fast as she could, but without her gun there wasn’t much she could do – Sobek was bigger and stronger. He clutched her by the shoulders, squeezing so hard that Charley could feel her skin bruising. Doogie threw a few more wild punches, but Sekhmet overwhelmed him, holding the boy from behind in a crushing bear hug.
It was all over in seconds. They were prisoners of the Sandman.
“I gave you a chance to run away,” said Cowley. “I warned you on the train. I sent Sobek to frighten you off at the station –” he glowered at the crocodile – “fat lot of good that was.” Sobek lowered his head, acknowledging his rather pathetic attempt.
“You’re all mad,” said Billy, sitting up in the coffin but still bound hand and foot. “You know that, don’t you?”
“Is it mad to dream of having the power of the gods to command? To be the immortal leader of an army of the undead?”
“Frankly, yes,” said Charley crisply. “As mad as a sackful of badgers.”
“But I can make it happen, Miss Steel. Who do you think read all those books about Egyptology? Who decided the location of the archaeological dig which unearthed my cloth-bound friend here? Sir Gordon Balfour, that bumbling idiot? No! It was me! All me! And what reward did I get for my troubles? More than five thousand gold items came out of that dig, and what did His Lordship give me as a thank you?” He waved his hippo-tusk wand. “A single piece of ivory… Little did the fat fool know the power that it held.”
“You’ll never get away with this, you despicable little man,” said Charley.
“Oh, that’s right, Your Ladyship, don’t forget to keep stepping on the servants. You and Sir Gordon come straight out of the same mould.” Cowley was almost spitting. “You think you’re so much better than me, don’t you?”
“That’s not what I meant,” Charley protested.
“I think I’m better than you,” said Billy defiantly, as he continued to wrestle with his bonds, twisting back and forth. He wasn’t going to give up without a fight. He had spotted a rack on the far wall beside Cowley’s throne which held bows and arrows, swords with broad sickle-shaped blades, and a large axe with a curved head which splayed out on both sides like a fan. If I can get my hands on them…