Heart of the Mummy Read online

  “I don’t need to ‘shh’,” said Cleo. “The Movers haven’t got ears, remember? They can’t hear what I’m saying.”

  “No, but they might be able to feel the vibrations of your speech in the air.”

  “That’s right,” added Resus. “My Uncle Sisor was as blind as a vampire bat, and his other senses grew stronger to compensate. He could feel a drop of blood hitting the floor at a hundred metres.”

  “You two are just being ridiculous!” snapped Cleo. “If they could ‘feel’ my voice in the air, they’d have done something by n—”

  She squealed as a strong pair of hands reached out of the darkness and pulled her into the house.

  “After we save her,” Resus said to Luke, “it’s my turn to say ‘I told you so’!”

  The inside of the Movers’ house was pitch black. Luke felt his way slowly along one of the walls — until he cracked his shin against the edge of a low table.

  “This is ridiculous,” he hissed. “The Movers may not need light to see, but I’m rubbish in the dark!”

  “Hang on a minute,” whispered Resus. He reached into his cape and pulled out a flaming torch. The room lit up as the fire crackled.

  “What are you doing?” demanded Luke. “The Movers would feel the heat from that a mile away!”

  Resus sighed and pushed the torch back inside his cloak, fishing out a small, battery-operated version instead. The beam did little to pierce the darkness but it was better than nothing.

  Staying close together, Luke and Resus stepped into the living room. Movers sat eerily still on the settee, their blank faces glowing as the torch beam flashed across them.

  “Where’s Cleo?” mouthed Luke. As Resus shrugged, a squeal from upstairs answered his question. Instantly the Movers in the room were on their feet and rushing towards the sound, expertly avoiding the furniture in their way.

  Luke and Resus followed the men up the stairs and into a bedroom, where the Movers were crowding around a bed. The boys crept in behind them.

  One of the Movers was tying Cleo’s hands and feet to the bedposts with her own bandages. Resus started forward, but Luke held him back. “We can’t risk spooking them,” he said quietly. “We don’t know how they’ll react to us.”

  “We can’t just leave her there!” hissed Resus.

  “We’ll get her out,” said Luke, “but we’ll have to wait for the right opportunity.” The boys were forced flat against the wall to avoid bumping into anyone and revealing that they were there. Fortunately, Cleo’s struggling seemed to mask the vibrations from their voices.

  On some silent signal, each Mover raised his right hand and pressed his fingertips against the forehead of his nearest neighbour.

  “That’s how they communicate,” said Resus as he and Luke slid into a gap beside the wardrobe. “Some sort of telepathic vibration.”

  The boys watched as one of the Movers pressed a hand to the side of Cleo’s face. The mummy’s eyes snapped wide open and she shouted, “Of course you can’t feel a heartbeat, you idiot. My heart’s in the fridge at home!”

  “They’re questioning her,” whispered Resus. “She must be able to hear their voices inside her head!”

  “Forget waiting for an opportunity,” said Luke. “We have to stop this now. If she lets slip that we’re here to find Heru’s tomb, the Movers may tell Sir Otto where the next relic is.”

  Another shout from Cleo echoed around the room. “No, I’m not here to try and sell you double-glazing!”

  “We need a distraction,” Resus said, pulling items from his cape: a scented candle, a bottle of vanilla flavouring and a pair of sunglasses.

  “Are you taking the mickey?” asked Luke. “These are no good — the Movers don’t have any senses!”

  “Stop hassling me,” snapped Resus. “I’m trying to — aha!” The vampire grinned as he found what he was looking for.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” hissed Luke, staring at the collection of objects Resus was holding out.

  “You’re the one who said we need a distraction,” said Resus defensively. “Unless you want blabber-bandages talking, I suggest you put these on.”

  Luke sighed and tied the two lengths of elastic around his knees as Resus swung a pair of leather straps over his friend’s shoulders and fastened the buckle. Pulling a kazoo out of his cloak, he pushed it into Luke’s mouth and stood back to admire Scream Street’s first one-man band.

  “Go on!” urged the vampire.

  Luke glared at Resus, then began to stomp towards the door, knocking his knees together to clash the cymbals tied to them. With each step, the bass drum on his back boomed. Sighing heavily, Luke began to hum a rousing version of When the Saints Go Marching In on the kazoo.

  Resus fought the urge to laugh as every Mover in the room turned towards Luke, the vibrations of the dreadful music flooding their one and only sense.

  As Luke crashed and banged his way out the door, the Movers instantly forgot Cleo and followed. Resus dashed over to the bed, untying the bandages from the mummy’s wrists and ankles.

  “What’s going on?” asked Cleo. One of the Movers stopped in the doorway, sensing the air moving as she spoke. Resus clamped a hand over the mummy’s mouth and signalled for her to be quiet.

  Resus led Cleo onto the tiny landing, where the Movers stumbled towards the deafening percussion sounds at the top of the stairs. Each held out their hands to find their way as their delicate sense of touch throbbed from the noise.

  “What is Luke doing?” whispered Cleo.

  Resus shone his torch on Luke to reveal him slipping the drum off his back and untying the cymbals from his knees, all the while making as much noise as he could. “He’s about to have a smash hit!” grinned the vampire.

  Luke tossed the instruments down the stairs and ducked to one side as the Movers followed the sounds all the way to the bottom. The bass drum crashed and the cymbals bounced off the walls. As the last of the faceless men felt his way down the banister, Luke joined his friends on the now empty landing.

  “Fool Spectre could get you in the charts with that!” laughed Resus.

  “Now what?” asked Cleo.

  “We go up,” said Luke. “Mr Skipstone said the mummy was above the silent rooms.”

  Resus shone the torch towards the ceiling and spotted a small loft hatch with a wooden ladder running up to it.

  “I’ll go first,” said Cleo, grabbing the rungs and beginning to climb.

  As she pushed open the hatch and disappeared into the attic, Luke sighed. “Do you think we can leave her behind when we go to find the next relic?” he asked. “It’s like trying to control a disobedient puppy.”

  “We’d better get up there and house-train her before the Movers figure out they’ve been tricked and come looking for us,” said Resus.

  Luke took the torch and held it between his teeth as he climbed the ladder. As he entered the attic and the gloom was lifted by the dim light, he froze.

  Cleo was caught in a giant spiderweb.

  Glossy dark spiders swarmed over Cleo, wrapping her in a cocoon of webbing as Luke and Resus clambered up into the attic.

  “At least we know we’re in the right place,” said Luke. “They must be the arachnids black Mr Skipstone warned would be guarding Heru’s tomb.”

  “They’re a lot bigger than the cleaning spiders,” added Resus.

  “I don’t care how big they are,” hissed Cleo. “Just get them off me!”

  Luke sighed and grabbed the web holding Cleo captive. As he tore at the sticky substance, the spiders attacked, racing up his arm towards his face.

  He yelled and pulled his hand away, shaking it to try to dislodge the creatures, but they had already begun to spin more webbing. The torch clattered to the ground, its beam casting dramatic shadows against the walls.

  Within seconds, Luke’s wrist was pinned to one of the beams that ran across the attic. The spiders moved on, scuttling across his shoulder and onto his cheek, their beaks constan
tly clicking. Luke could feel dozens of tiny legs pressing on his skin as his mouth became covered in a shimmering, silver gag.

  He tried to turn his head to see if Resus was faring any better, but his hair was now fixed to the wooden beams. More and more of the deathly black spiders emerged from the shadows to spin their sticky thread across Luke’s body. His legs were now completely encased in webbing, and it wouldn’t be long before his arms fell to the same fate.

  Luke was angry that they had been captured so easily, and he shuddered as a familiar feeling washed over his face. Bones splintered and broke, pushing outwards and reforming. The muscles in his cheeks and jaw tore apart and knitted together again. Razor-sharp fangs pushed his own teeth out of place. This was one of the many partial transformations he had experienced since living in Scream Street.

  His head now that of a werewolf, Luke pushed his long rough tongue forward and used it to saw at the web over his face like a prisoner rasping at cell bars with a file. Once his mouth was free, Luke twisted his head round and bit at the webbing that bound his arms.

  He banged his fist repeatedly against one of the wooden beams to rip it from the web, and for a second all the spiders stopped spinning and turned to look at him. Once his arm was free, the creatures clicked and went back to work.

  Scanning the attic for his friends, Luke saw Cleo struggling beneath layers of glistening gossamer. Resus’s position wasn’t much different. The vampire’s body was wrapped in the web, and several dozen spiders were busy covering his face. As his eyes began to disappear, Luke saw Resus flick his gaze downwards.

  Luke swung to the side, tearing at the threads that bound his waist. He thrust his hand into the web around Resus and inside the vampire’s cloak.

  With a triumphant howl he pulled the flaming torch from his friend’s cape and pushed it into the web around Cleo. The spiders clicked and skittered away as the silver cocoon began to dissolve, shrinking and twisting as it burned.

  As Cleo’s bandages began to reappear, Luke turned and began to work on Resus. The spiders kept their distance from the part-werewolf, eyes glistening in the flickering light.

  When Resus had enough movement in his arms, he ripped the remaining webbing from his body and reached Cleo just as she fell to the floor. The mummy opened her eyes and forced a smile.

  Luke burned the silk around his legs as his face slowly transformed back from werewolf to human. Once free, he lunged forward and plunged the flaming torch in among the cluster of spiders. They clicked madly, racing for the loft hatch and safety.

  “Shouldn’t we stop them?” asked Cleo as she climbed shakily to her feet. “They’re supposed to be guarding Heru’s resting place.”

  “You want to invite them back?” asked Resus. “Besides, there won’t be anything left to guard once we have his heart.”

  “How do you know the relic is his heart?” asked Luke.

  “It says so in the clue.”

  Luke pulled Skipstone’s Tales of Scream Street from his pocket and held the torch over the page containing the clue.

  “Cardiac means relating to the heart and surrounding arteries,” explained the vampire. “What?” he added as Luke and Cleo stared at him in disbelief. “There’s nothing wrong with paying attention in class!”

  “So,” said Luke, “where is this mummy?” He held out the flaming torch as he clambered further into the dingy attic.

  Another large web blocked his path and he melted it with the tip of the torch. As it disappeared, Luke found a pair of piercing eyes staring back at him. He jumped, tripping over a crate and hitting the floor with a crash. His foot tore away more of the webbing to reveal that the face was carved into the lid of a golden sarcophagus edged with hieroglyphics.

  “Guys,” he said, holding up the torch. “I think I’ve found it.”

  Resus stared at the golden figure. “Let’s find the heart and get out of here before the Movers work out we’re up here.” He began to pull crates and boxes away from the sarcophagus.

  Luke squeezed through the gap Resus had made and burnt away the remaining spiderwebs. When he had finished, he wedged the torch securely in one of the ceiling beams. “Right,” he said. “Here goes!” He slid his fingers into the thin crack running along the side of the casket’s lid and pulled hard. The sarcophagus began to open, creaking after years of neglect.

  Cleo stepped in front of him and slammed the lid closed.

  “What are you doing?” Luke protested.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I just can’t let you do this!”

  “I haven’t got a choice,” said Luke. “I need all six of the founding fathers’ relics to open a doorway out of Scream Street.”

  “I understand that,” said Cleo. “And I sympathize, I really do. But we can’t just go rummaging around inside this sarcophagus! It might sound like silly superstition to you, but I believe in this stuff.”

  Resus sighed. “We’ve been through this,” he said. “Heru left his heart behind to be used by someone who really needs it.”

  “I know,” said Cleo.

  “Then what’s the problem?” demanded Luke.

  “Heru was royalty.”

  “What? Royalty, as in a king or something?”

  Cleo nodded. “He was a pharaoh …”

  Resus stared at her in amazement. “And you haven’t mentioned that before now because …?”

  “I only just found out,” explained Cleo. “The hieroglyphics say so.”

  Luke studied the symbols on the sarcophagus. “You can read these?”

  “It’s kindergarten stuff,” said Cleo, indicating a series of images depicting a bowing man, a river, an eye and an eagle. “These mean he was revered for his benevolence and wisdom. We must worship and adore him.”

  Resus giggled. “Are you sure?” he asked. “To me it looks more like he took underwater yoga lessons from a one-eyed crow!”

  “Oh, really?” snapped Cleo. “And what does it mean in vampire culture when you have to wear false fangs because you’re nothing but a normal?”

  Luke sighed. “If you two have finished winding each other up, can we please open this box so that I can get the heart and go home?”

  “But he’s a pharaoh…”

  “Not any more, he’s not,” said Resus. “He’s lost property in a dusty attic.”

  “What if we bow down to him as the casket opens?” asked Luke, struggling to keep his own temper in check. “Would that be OK?”

  “S’pose.”

  “Right,” he said, relieved. “On the floor and help me pull.”

  The trio dropped to their knees, eyes averted from the sarcophagus as they opened it. The lid thumped against the wall, producing a shower of dust that crackled as it hit the flame of the torch.

  A pair of bandaged feet came into view. Then an imposing figure, still lost in the shadows, clambered to its feet.

  Cleo nudged Luke.

  “What?”

  “Say something!” Cleo hissed.

  “Why me?” whispered Luke, his eyes still averted from the figure before them.

  “Because you’re the one after his relic!”

  “Right,” Luke said, clearing his throat. “Er … What was his name again?”

  “Heru,” muttered Resus.

  “That’s the one!” said Luke. This wasn’t going as well as he’d hoped. “Mighty Heru, we worship your greatness and ask for deliverance of the gift you bestowed upon Scream Street as a founding father …”

  Silence filled the attic as the words echoed away. Nothing happened for a moment, then a bandaged hand clamped down on Luke’s shoulder and a voice shouted out, “You’re it!”

  Luke yawned. Accompanied by Resus and Cleo, he had been playing tag with the mighty Heru for the past half hour — even though the pharaoh insisted he couldn’t be “it” because he had diplomatic immunity.

  Resus slumped against the beam beside his friend. “I wonder if the hieroglyphics mention that he’s about as mature as a four-year-old!”r />
  Luke glanced over at Cleo, who was pretending to get her bandages caught on a nail so that the clapping Heru could escape her clutches.

  “I haven’t had this much fun since I ordered three hundred slaves to be whipped for laughing at my sandals,” giggled Heru, twirling his loose bandages.

  Resus forced a smile. “Sounds wonderful, Your Majesty.”

  Heru clamped a hand over his mouth. “Say that again!” he exclaimed.

  “What?” asked Resus.

  “What you just said,” insisted Heru. “Say it again!”

  “What? ‘Sounds wonderful, Your Majesty’?”

  Heru spun to face Cleo, gasping. “Doesn’t he sound just like Ramone, the telepathic cattle-herder from The Nile Flows North?”

  “Er … What’s The Nile Flows North?”

  “Ancient Egypt’s most popular soap opera,” explained Cleo. “It was acted out live every afternoon in front of the pharaoh’s temple.”

  “And I would have been perfect for the role of Pyre, the slave-master’s dashing half-brother,” said Heru with tears in his eyes. “But they just wouldn’t give me an audition!” The mummy sobbed for a moment before bursting into a grin so wide it threatened to tear his bandages. “I know, I know, I know!” he shouted, hopping on the spot. “Let’s do the show right here!”

  Luke smiled politely. “As tempting as your offer is, Your Majesty, I have to ask for the relic you agreed to leave behind as a founding father.” He took a deep breath. “I need your heart.”

  “That old thing?” tutted Heru. “I got rid of that years ago!”

  Luke stared at the mummy in disbelief. “You got rid of it?”

  “Oh yes,” said Heru. “Far too ugly to give as a gift. I replaced it with this.” The mummy pulled a small glass snow globe from inside his bandages and handed it to Luke. “I give you my new and improved relic!”

  Luke gazed into the globe. Inside was a crude model of a spider, basking in bright sunlight.

  “What’s this?” he asked.

  Heru shrugged. “No idea,” he admitted. “I found it in one of the boxes up here. Pretty, though, isn’t it?”