"I have an assignment for you and the other scorpions."
His face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Yes, O Bringer of Light. We live to serve you."
"Yes, yes. So you've said. But here's what I need you to do..."
As I explained the plan to him, his eyes grew bigger and bigger and his face flushed with excitement. "So I was right, then. You can raise the dead."
"Well, no. Not really." But it still didn't seem smart to explain about the staff. I was fairly certain I trusted Stilton, but I most definitely did not trust Trawley. And if Stilton told him about the staff, Trawley would most likely want it for his own.
"I will get word to the grand master at once to ask for his permission."
"Permission? But I thought you were assigned to me?" I distinctly remembered hearing them jaw on about adoration and being at my command.
"Yes, Miss Theo, but we are assigned to watch over you. We will need permission if we are to leave your side."
This was beginning to sound more and more like a prison every day. "Very well. But let me know as soon as you find out."
He bowed low, but before I could tell him to stop that, he left the room and I was blissfully alone. Which lasted for exactly two minutes before Miss Sharpe burst through the door, looking most put out. "Where is he?"
"Who?" Although I knew perfectly well whom she meant.
"Mr. Stilton, of course! The constable had no idea what I was talking about. Said he'd never asked to see me. I looked a right fool."
"I'm sure it was an honest mistake," I said, wanting to keep Stilton out of as much trouble as possible.
She sniffed. "I shall have to report him to Mr. Weems, as he is the only one who seems to have any sense around here."
Which just went to show you how poor her judgment was.
It was a long, tortuous afternoon. Miss Sharpe was in a beastly mood for having been made a fool of in front of the police (and wouldn't I have loved to see that!). She took it out on me by making me copy all sorts of rubbish from Mrs. Primbottom's Guide to Raising Perfect Children.
It was all utter rot, and she was a fiend about my handwriting, which wasn't at it's best because I startled at every little sound I heard, thinking it was Stilton come to report on Trawley's decision.
Imagine my surprise when Vicary Weems interrupted us. I can quite safely say it was the first time I was ever glad to see him.
"Excuse me," he said, his chin high.
"Yes, Weems?" I asked.
"I wasn't talking to you," he said pointedly. "I was wondering if perhaps Miss Sharpe would like to share a cab ride home. To cut down on expense, you know."
Miss Sharpe reached up and patted her hair. Honestly! Had someone delivered a cache of Cupid's arrows that no one had told me about?
"That is very kind of you, Mr. Weems, but I don't think it's a good idea," Miss Sharpe said.
In spite of all the pinches and knuckle rappings, in spite of all the wretched lines I'd been made to do, I leaned forward and whispered, "Don't worry. I shan't breathe a word to Grandmother about this."
Her eyes grew round and she looked at me with charity for the first time since we'd met. "Oh. Well then, yes, thank you, Mr. Weems. That would be lovely."
I nearly danced a jig. Everyone was finally leaving. Even better, as soon as Weems had escorted Miss Sharpe from the room, Stilton arrived.
"Well?" I asked. "What did Trawley say?"
Stilton gave me a slightly reproachful look. "The grand master said that he would allow us to perform this favor for you if you would in turn do him a favor."
"What? I thought it was just about giving you permission to leave my side?"
Stilton's left shoulder twitched, and he looked sheepish. "The grand master wishes you to perform a small bit of magic for him. If you will agree to that, he will allow us to follow your mummy."
"What sort of magic?" I asked, immediately suspicious.
"To be determined at a later date, but mutually agreed upon by the both of you."
If we had to mutually agree upon the feat of magic, that gave me some wiggle room. "Very well. If that's the only condition under which he will agree."
"It is."
These Black Sunners were shaping up to be far more trouble than they were worth. I checked my watch. "It's six thirty now. I'm fairly sure that mummies are only ambulatory when the moon is out."
"Moonrise is at five after ten."
I blinked. "How'd you know that?"
"The almanac. In our rituals, we pay very close attention to the phases of the moon."
"Yes, but you're called the Black Sun."
"It's a code name for the dark of the moon, when magic is at it's most powerful."
"Very well. Let's meet at the top of the stairs leading down to the basement at ten o'clock, then. I've got something I've got to do beforehand."
The newest round of missing mummies had poor Father stretched to the breaking point. He was convinced our mummies would go missing any minute. In fact, Father was so nervous that he had sworn to spend the night in the museum again—with shotgun firmly in hand.
Which was why I needed to rid the museum of this most recent disgruntled spirit that had attached itself to us; to protect Father. Why couldn't it have stayed with the mummy it rode in on? It wasn't as if I didn't have enough to do, what with mummies running loose in London, Will dabbling in questionable behavior and being followed by the Grim Nipper, a wretched governess stifling my every move, an ancient Egyptian god in jackal form coming to life, and seven inept scorpion guards acting, quite frankly, mad as hatters.
But of course, that was the whole point of chaos, wasn't it? My life was absolute bedlam. If the Egyptian god of Chaos were watching, he'd be deliriously happy.
Well, as soon as I got rid of this vicious spirit, that would be one less chaotic element to deal with.
I just had to decide where to set my mut trap. Spirits tended to lurk close to the final resting place of their mummified bodies, so I had to assume that this spirit would lurk close to it's mummy's last known location: the foyer. This created a bit of a complication, because I had to get the trap set before Father wandered down with his shotgun to post guard.
I had managed to remain fairly purified throughout the day. The diciest moment came when Mother sent Dolge round for meat pies for dinner. I was starving by then but didn't dare have one for fear of ruining all the purification bother I'd gone through that morning. I settled for two jam sandwiches instead and tried not to feel sorry for myself. (Have I mentioned the extreme amount of fortitude one must have for curse removal?)
I stood at the edge of the foyer, trying to determine the best place to set the traps. Ideally, I should set one in each corner, corresponding with the four points of the compass.
In order to prepare the area for the ritual, the first step was to sprinkle the area with holy water (which had been most difficult to obtain). Using as little as possible in order to conserve my supply, I sprinkled drops across the entire floor. Next, I was to sweep the room of any evil influences with a broom made from the branches of a persea tree. As London had none of these that I knew of, I settled for a broom made of willow twigs, the willow being sacred to Osiris and as such would hopefully have some authority over dead spirits.
Once I'd swept the floor with the broom, my next step was to cleanse the air with holy smoke or incense. This was tricky because I was specifically prohibited from using lucifer matches, but how else did one get holy smoke than by fire? It had taken me quite a bit of thinking to work out a solution to this one, but I finally decided a mist of perfume from my curse-removal kit would work, it being the next best way to fill the air with cloying scent. Of course, I couldn't afford the kind that smelled truly lovely. Instead I had bought something called "An Evening's Enchantment" (even the name was perfect!), which smelled like a combination of wood smoke, violets, and vanilla.