the ship. If only Carrington didn’t find a way to ruin everything.
******
Beckett grew tired of leaning on the rail. The mummy kept coming to mind. Why? He hadn’t written anything else about it. He couldn’t dismiss his thoughts about it, as if it was calling him. He found his way down to the cargo hold. He wasn’t even very surprised to find Carrington there inspecting it.
“Aren’t you afraid of incurring the wrath of whoever that is?”
She jumped. “Don’t sneak up on me!”
“What are you doing down here?”
“What are you?”
“I don’t know. I almost felt like the mummy was calling me down here.”
“So did I and I have no reason why.”
“Do you think there is any truth to Mr. Stead’s story?”
“I don’t know. If so, then we may find ourselves in terrible trouble.”
“We haven’t disturbed it.”
She turned to face him. “But I really want to open the crate, Beckett.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am. I won’t open the coffin, if that’s what’s inside. But I have to know.”
Did he really believe in curses? Even Egyptian ones? Four days ago he would have said no, resoundingly. But then four days ago he wouldn’t have believed in books with magical powers either.
She was looking at him, actually pleading with him with her eyes to help her out, to grant this one wish. One thing he was certain of, he hadn’t written this scene or anticipated it.
“Okay. But we just open the box, not anything that’s inside.”
“And we need to be careful not to disturb anything, not to be too rough. I don’t want to do anything that the spirits might think was disturbing the person inside the box.”
“Is it nailed shut?”
“That’s the amazing thing. I checked. It isn’t. All we have to do it open these latches. I was about to do it myself when you walked up.”
He stepped closer. He took a deep breath and flipped the first latch. And then another, and then another. When they were all open he said, “Ready or not.”
She very gently opened the lid, while he held the box still.
They looked inside. An elaborate sarcophagus rested inside, painted and enameled with jeweled tones. “Oh,” Carrington gasped. “It’s her. The Princess of Amen-Ra. I saw the coffin board in the museum.”
Beckett could only stare. The coffin was the one in Stead’s story. “I didn’t write that. Not that it was the one in his story.”
“Do you think he’s the one who brought it on?”
“I have no idea and I’m not going to ask. Neither are you. Let’s close this up and get out of here. I think we’re probably tempting fate as much as we dare.”
Ever so gently they closed the lid and locked it back up. “What now?”
Carrington said, “I have no idea. I never even dreamed I ever see a mummy up close. I think she knows we didn’t intend to disturb her.”
“Why do you think that?”
“In the story everyone who looked at it saw horrible faces. All we saw was the coffin.”
Beckett felt a shiver run over him. “I hope you’re right.”
He followed her up the stairs that led them back to the deck. “Does this change anything?”
She wanted so badly to have him take her in his arms and kiss her. But something inside her just wouldn’t give in that easily. “I don’t know.”
“When will you?” He was so close that he could have easily kissed her. He wanted to, but held back.
“I’ll let you know.” She swept past him, leaving him confused. He pulled the book out of his pocket and looked at it again. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. He considered writing the words he wanted to write, taking matters into his own hands again. That’s what got you into this mess, he thought. He had to work hard to resist the urge to write down what he wanted,
******
Beckett grew tired of leaning on the rail. The mummy kept coming to mind. Why? He hadn’t written anything else about it. He couldn’t dismiss his thoughts about it, as if it was calling him. He found his way down to the cargo hold. He wasn’t even very surprised to find Carrington there inspecting it.
“Aren’t you afraid of incurring the wrath of whoever that is?”
She jumped. “Don’t sneak up on me!”
“What are you doing down here?”
“What are you?”
“I don’t know. I almost felt like the mummy was calling me down here.”
“So did I and I have no reason why.”
“Do you think there is any truth to Mr. Stead’s story?”
“I don’t know. If so, then we may find ourselves in terrible trouble.”
“We haven’t disturbed it.”
She turned to face him. “But I really want to open the crate, Beckett.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am. I won’t open the coffin, if that’s what’s inside. But I have to know.”
Did he really believe in curses? Even Egyptian ones? Four days ago he would have said no, resoundingly. But then four days ago he wouldn’t have believed in books with magical powers either.
She was looking at him, actually pleading with him with her eyes to help her out, to grant this one wish. One thing he was certain of, he hadn’t written this scene or anticipated it.
“Okay. But we just open the box, not anything that’s inside.”
“And we need to be careful not to disturb anything, not to be too rough. I don’t want to do anything that the spirits might think was disturbing the person inside the box.”
“Is it nailed shut?”
“That’s the amazing thing. I checked. It isn’t. All we have to do it open these latches. I was about to do it myself when you walked up.”
He stepped closer. He took a deep breath and flipped the first latch. And then another, and then another. When they were all open he said, “Ready or not.”
She very gently opened the lid, while he held the box still.
They looked inside. An elaborate sarcophagus rested inside, painted and enameled with jeweled tones. “Oh,” Carrington gasped. “It’s her. The Princess of Amen-Ra. I saw the coffin board in the museum.”
Beckett could only stare. The coffin was the one in Stead’s story. “I didn’t write that. Not that it was the one in his story.”
“Do you think he’s the one who brought it on?”
“I have no idea and I’m not going to ask. Neither are you. Let’s close this up and get out of here. I think we’re probably tempting fate as much as we dare.”
Ever so gently they closed the lid and locked it back up. “What now?”
Carrington said, “I have no idea. I never even dreamed I ever see a mummy up close. I think she knows we didn’t intend to disturb her.”
“Why do you think that?”
“In the story everyone who looked at it saw horrible faces. All we saw was the coffin.”
Beckett felt a shiver run over him. “I hope you’re right.”
He followed her up the stairs that led them back to the deck. “Does this change anything?”
She wanted so badly to have him take her in his arms and kiss her. But something inside her just wouldn’t give in that easily. “I don’t know.”
“When will you?” He was so close that he could have easily kissed her. He wanted to, but held back.
“I’ll let you know.” She swept past him, leaving him confused. He pulled the book out of his pocket and looked at it again. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. He considered writing the words he wanted to write, taking matters into his own hands again. That’s what got you into this mess, he thought. He had to work hard to resist the urge to write down what he wanted,
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