The Blood Debt Chronicles

The Case of the Missing Mummy

Chapter the Nineteenth or A Clue Discovered in Disreputable Circumstances

            Lord Farcical knew the police would not allow him to help. He was a lord and it was not his “place” to help with such a mundane thing as lifting survivors out of a pit. However, his honor dictated that he must assist. He also knew that he would garner their respect if he helped. Anyway, he was a Scotsman and not some dandy. He took the lead in tossing the rope down the hole, anchoring it around his waist.

            “Alright lads! Let’s bring ‘em home!” He called, summoning the officers to help with the effort. They had been momentarily stunned by his actions, but readily grabbed hold of the rope.

            The officers were predominately Irish and not used to being addressed by nobility like they were people.

            One by one, each of the survivors grabbed the rope and was heave-hoed out of the pit. The first up was a child, then three women followed. John allowed the police to question the women while he unwrapped the rope from around his waist.

            The lad’s eyes shifted to John’s purse before darting away. John pretended not to notice. I can’t say I’m surprised. I may have just saved him… but I’m also clearly wealthy and he is clearly poor. Studiously, he ignored the lad’s behavior. He shouldn’t try anything, not with the police surrounding us.         

            The lad moved closer to John while he was listening to the women recount being kidnapped by the foreigners. They are being cagey about where they were when it happened. Interesting. He felt the lad go for his purse. Lightning quick, John snatched the lad’s arm.

            He looked down at the lad about to scold him, “What the?” He could see tattoos peeking out from under the lad’s shirtsleeve. In a quick motion he pulled the lad’s sleeve back revealing strange symbols tattooed into the lad’s arm. The child squirmed trying to get away, but John’s grip was firm. “Did the priests do this to you lad?” Despite his firm grip, his voice was gentle.

            “Let go of me!” The lad tried to pull away.

            John looked up at the women, “Do you ladies have these markings too?”

            One of the women opened her mouth, seemingly about to answer before she collapsed to her knees. A scream ripped from her lips. It pierced the men’s ears, causing many of them to stumble in pain. Their shouts of confusion and pain added to the chaos. The police officer standing next to her grabbed his ears, blood oozed through his fingers.

            Lord Farcical shouted, “Dravan! Dravan we need you!” He fell to his knees; his hands clutched his ears, trying to muffle the terrible sound. His efforts were to no avail. The pain was terrible… but he was used to tribulation. With effort he lifted his head and looked at the woman who had screamed.

            The three women and the lad were on their knees in a circle, their hands lifted palm up toward the ceiling. Strange scarlet symbols glowed from under their clothes. John recognized the places that glowed as kill spots where a person would bleed out if struck.

            The runes oozed through their clothes and were held suspended in the air.

            Mr. Taurus and Dravan ran into the chaos. The tell tale clopping of Mr. Taurus’ hooves were completely overpowered by the shrill scream and the chanting.

            Dravan flung out his hand and shouted. His word went out with tangible power. John, Mr. Taurus and Dravan felt a popping sensation in their ears as their piercing scream of the woman was sucked out of them. They could still hear her shrieking, but it no longer was magically affecting them.

            With agony blocked, John heard a pattern in her screams. It had the rise and fall of a language, not random screaming. “What should I do?” John shouted, drawing a knife and advancing on the chanters.

            “No! Stay back!” Dravan shouted. He yelled another word of power and the protection that he had placed on his people spread to the police officers, who had fainted on the flagstones. It was, however, too late for the man closest to the women. There was a pool of gore soaking into the sandstone.

            Cruor[1] rose off his corpse and joined with the runes in the air. It appeared to be adding power to them. Dravan’s protection seemed to come just in time. Since the magic was prevented from harvesting the energy of the other officers, it turned on the victims it had been etched into. Claret[2] was pulled from every orifice.

            A wicked and twisted face appeared in the homogenous orb. “Dravan…” It hissed. “Come to irritate me again? You have failed to banish me six times, eager to complete your failure with a seventh try?”

            Dravan gritted his teeth; his small gnomish form stared up at the corrupt form, “X’thrhltz. Egyptian artifacts aren’t your usual method of operation.”

            “You’ll have to do better than your usual level of sophistication if you are going to stop me from resurrecting the high priest of Apep.” The face turned, as if it heard its name being called. “Try to stop me if you can.” Then the blood orb collapsed in on itself as the voice absorbed the energy from the claret.

            “That was a demon. Wasn’t it?” Mr. Taurus scraped his hoof nervously on the sandstone floor.

            Dravan was silent as he looked at the corpses of the people they came to save. He unceremoniously peeled back their clothing to look at the runes. John watched what Dravan was doing carefully. The marks appeared to have been tattooed on them. However, that was no ink John had ever seen used before.

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            If it hadn’t been a demon, Dravan would have refuted it. This has become much more dangerous. John smothered an inappropriate smile. He didn’t miss the heat of India, but he did miss the action. He was tired of spending all his time in the club, he wanted to be out searching for his friend’s murderer, but he could hardly do that if he was protecting Lady MacNeal. That was something he had sworn to his best friend when the man was going off into certain death, he couldn’t go back on his word. But she is invested in this and she won’t turn back just because things have become dire; if I don’t aid her, I’ll have to deal with her sneaking around.

            Lady MacNeal, he knew, would protest the very idea of sneaking. She was a perfect lady, fair of countenance and graceful in manner. He gave a mental chuckle, She would say something like, “I don’t sneak. I’m discrete.”

            “Dravan,” John said, “Mr. Taurus and I don’t know what we should do, what we can do, so that we do not trigger any magical problems.”

            Dravan looked up from the bodies he was crouching by, leaned back on his heels, and sighed, “This is really quite bothersome. I was in the middle of very important research, but I see I don’t have much choice. As one of her Majesty’s Demonic Hunters, I’m going to have to take over this investigation.”

            Mr. Taurus seemed to have recovered, “Do you believe the demon when it said it was resurrecting the mummy?”

            In John’s estimation, the minotaur had not had many run ins with demons. If he had, he would either be more fearful or more calm.

            Dravan nodded, “Someone is resurrecting the mummy, that much is certain, however the demon would not have passed on that information if it wanted the ceremony to be completed. For whatever reason, its own or its master’s, the demon wishes us to stop the resurrection from taking place.”

            John shook his head, “So, by preventing a mummy from being brought back to life, we are playing into the hands of a demon? That’s hardly a position we want to be in.”

            Mr. Taurus shrugged, “We don’t really have a choice. The lady tasked me with recovering all of the Pickering’s artifacts. Knowing that some wicked foreign people are looking to bring about some sort of apocalypse isn’t going to change her mind.”

            A smirk brushed John’s lips before he could smother it. Both he and Mr. Taurus were considered “foreign” since they weren’t English, but instead Scots.

            Dravan tapped his chin, “Perhaps I can steal the energy from the ritual and redirect it…”

            “Shall I carry these lads to the surface?” Mr. Taurus asked stretching his neck.

            “We can hardly leave them down here.” John walked to the inspector and hefted him over his shoulder into a fireman carry. “I hope he won’t vomit. I like these clothes.”

            Dravan sighed again, “This is going to mean multiple trips. We, and by that I mean you two, will have to carry all the officers and the bodies to the surface.”

            “I understand the officers, we certainly can’t leave them down here, but why the bodies?” Mr. Taurus picked up the nearest man. The Irishman was much bigger than him, so he looked a little silly.

            John looked at Mr. Taurus with surprise, “To inform the families of their deaths of course!”

            Dravan shrugged, “I suppose that is important as well, but no. I need the corpses brought to the surface so that tomorrow, after I’ve rested, I can trace the spells that were cast on them back to their originators.”

            “You won’t be finishing the task tonight?”

            Dravan rolled his eyes, “As much as I would like to finish the task at hand, the reality of the situation is that I am weary from casting protection spells. Without some recovery time, even the most basic of spell could go astray. This,” he gestured to the bodies, “is not a basic spell. It is a very challenging spell because I am trying to trace the route of whatever mage that triggered the trap placed in the women and the child, not only that, but I am also trying to find who is controlling the demon that high jacked that spell. The only reason they,” he gestured to the unconscious officers, “are not dead is because the demon prevented the full measure of the trap from being activated so that it could use that energy to taunt me.” Dravan paused, glaring at John, “So in short, no, I will not be finishing the task tonight.”

            John shrugged off the gnome’s glare, “Thinking about all the magic you’ve cast, I’m surprised you’ve done as much as you have. It would have taken four mages in the army to do what you did tonight.”

            Dravan adjusted his puff tie. “Well, we hardly send our best mages to India. I’m not surprised your experience is with subpar magicians.”

            It was long and arduous work to carry the officers out. Those that had been posted on the outside wanted to help carry their fellows out, but Dravan didn’t have the strength left to cast any protections on them. The only conscious fellows left to do the work were Lord John Farcical and Mr. Taurus.

            By the time a second mage, his clothes rumpled and askew, had been roused and made his way down to the sewer entrance, Mr. Taurus and John were panting in the street having carried all the officers and the corpses out of the sewer.

            Dravan gave the young mage a stern tongue lashing. Not only was the human less skilled than Dravan, he also ranked lower on magical aptitude, and his social standing was far bellow Dravan’s position as Lord Cersideon.

            “You took the position as one of the officers’ mages. You should have been at the station when this was reported, not off gallivanting with your friends.”

            The young man, shamefaced with his head hanging, opened his mouth to speak.

            “No, Mr. Brown.” Dravan said cutting him off before he could speak, “I read all your assignments and your exit thesis. Do not try to give me excuses and tell me about how you were studying. We both know that is not true.” Disdain rang in his voice, “I wouldn’t let you cast even if I still needed you, I can smell the alcohol on your breath.” Fury shook his voice, “Thinking you could cast while intoxicated… that is the kind of behavior I would expect from an idiot child or someone who has not completed their courses at the academy.”

            From John’s crouched position on the cobblestones, he could see all manner of emotions pass over the young man’s face, ending in an almost baffled resignation. John had expected anger, most men would be angry at being referred to as an “idiot child”. But not this man, curious.

            “There is nothing I can do but tender my apology to you and this department.”

            Dravan glared at the man before nodding. “Very well, since you are the magician assigned to this case, I expect to see you tomorrow at…” he pulled out his pocket watch, clicked it open and stared at it doing some calculation, “at ten o’clock. I need to sleep off this fatigue.”

            “Where shall I meet you, my lord?”

            “Why, at the morgue of course. You are going to assist me in tracing some magic.”

            Mr. Brown’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline, “You want me to assist?”

            “Did I stutter, boy?” Dravan’s condescending tone peeled out.

            “No, my lord.” Mr. Brown shook his head fervently, “I shall see you at ten o’clock.”

            “Good. Make sure that you do. Also,” his last word was clipped with anger, “if you arrive intoxicated, or I hear of you being inebriated on the job again, I will personally block your access to magic.”

            John expected the boy to sweat from that threat, but the lad did not. Instead, the young man straightened his spine and nodded. A strike of inspiration burst into John’s mind, He’s never had anyone pay attention to him… and here Dravan, a legend among magicians and magical inventers not only knew him on sight, but also claimed to have insight into the man’s actions based on reading his work. A laugh slipped out in the form of a cough, Dravan has captured Mr. Brown. That man is going to aspire to change Dravan’s opinion of him.

            A coach arrived. Sarah stepped out with the aid of the cabby. She seemed to float over to Dravan, her head up. She had a quiet confidence rather than aggressive arrogance. She pulled a small clockwork bird out of her purse and handed it to Dravan, “I received your message, are you ready to go or do you have more work to do?”

            Dravan shook his head, “No, my work is done for the night. However, I must be at the morgue tomorrow morning, ten o’clock.”

            Sarah nodded, clearly making a mental note of the time. “I’ll make sure there is a cab ready to take you.”

            “Thank you, my dear.” He said climbing into the cab.

            Sarah looked at John, “Would you like to ride with us?”

            John shook his head, “Thank you, but I’ll have Mr. Taurus take me to the club.”

            She nodded, “Very well.”

[1] Coagulated blood

[2] A slang word for blood referencing its similar color to the (purple-ish) red table wine produced in the Bordeaux region of France which was originally a light red or yellow.