"Not mother. Mummy!" Veins bulging on his neck, mouth open to continue his protest, he paused and glanced down. "Is that cat laughing?"

Dean shoved Austin with the side of one bare foot. "Hairball."

"Right. Look, my name's Lance Benedict . . ."

This time both men looked down.

"Really big hairball." Dean shot Austin a warning frown.

"Right." Lance's broad smile showed perfect teeth. "Anyway, I realize this must all seem extraordinary to you, an ordinary kind of a guy, living an ordinary kind of life ..."

Dean bent down and turned Austin around to face the kitchen. "You should be having a drink of water to take care of that hairball." One hand against the cat's back legs, he shoved. If looks could maim, he'd have collapsed bleeding on the hardwood.

The angle of his tail promising later retribution, Austin stalked off down the hall.

When Dean straightened, Lance sighed. "Everything will make perfect sense the moment I explain it!"

Sighing and exclaiming simultaneously was quite the trick, Dean had to admit.

"Evil is afoot!"

"It's not in Dr. Rebik's car, then?"

"Not on foot! Afoot!" Another, more dramatic sigh. "Can I come in? Your neighbors must not discover the darkness that hides in the forgotten corners of their little worlds!"

Curtains twitched in a second-floor window across the street and Dean realized he was standing in the doorway wearing only his jeans and his gla.s.ses. Professor Marnara had been slipping salacious haiku in the mailbox for a couple of months now and she really didn't need more inspiration. "Yeah. Sure. Come in." He stepped back and closed the door firmly behind the mummy hunter. "All right, then, explain."

"You're Irish, aren't you? I can tell from your accent; it's a skill I have! County Cork, by way of Dublin."

"Newfoundland. Harbor Street, St. John's, by way of Herring Neck."

"Right. Sixteenth-century Irish derivative. Corrupted, of course."

Dean's lip curled. Good manners only extended so far. "The explanation?"

"Right." Lance leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Dr. Rebik has been vilely kidnapped by a woman who died almost five thousand years ago! Late one night in his lab, the unfortunate doctor broke the spell confining her wretched, evil form to her sarcophagus. She rose and took over his mind, feeding off his life force to reduce the gruesome effects of centuries of decay. When I discovered what she'd done, I fought valiantly to stop her, but her control over Dr. Rebik was so strong he attacked me and left me for dead!"

"And you got messed up in this because . . . ?"

"Because I'm Dr. Rebik's grad student and I intend to save him! I am quite possibly the only person now alive who knows how to stop the foul fiend!" His hands curled into fists as he rocked forward on the b.a.l.l.s of his feet. "Just tell me what room that postulant monstrosity is in!"

"Meryat?"

"That's her!"

Mummies. Doctors. Grad students. Dean weighed what he knew and came to a decision. "Third floor. Room six. You should take the elevator, it'll be faster." He led Lance to the bra.s.s gates, folded them open, and waved the other man inside. "Just pull that lever over to the three. I'll wait in the lobby in case she makes a run for the front door."

"Good man!" Legs braced, back straight, Lance yanked the lever toward him. The elevator began to rise.

"Was that nice?" Austin asked as the dial showed the elevator just pa.s.sing the second floor.

Dean shrugged. "Before he left, Augustus Smythe fixed it so that the third floor always opens to the beach. We haven't seen a giant not-quite-squid in months and the fire sand is all posted. There's food and water in the cabana. Lance'll do some exploring, he'll get a bit more sunburn, maybe he'll go swimming. He's safer there than back out on the street."

"So it was nice." Austin looked disgusted. "Just when I think you're acquiring a personality that doesn't involve cleaning products, Claire, or hockey. I suppose I should be moderately encouraged that you actually lied to the man."

"And I should be concerned that you're having a worse influence on me than h.e.l.l ever did."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, but don't stop." He ran to catch up as Dean started back down the hall. "What are you going to do now?"

"Put a shirt on and wake Dr. Rebik. I'm after hearing his side of the story."

Lance stood ankle-deep in white sand, staring at the brilliant blue sky, and the turquoise breakers. A breeze off the distant dunes caressed his cheek with the scent of warmed sweet gra.s.s. This had to be another one of the mummy's evil spells, a way to turn this world into the ancient world she'd lost. Which hadn't included an ocean or a sign that read Please return your towels to the guest house, but that had to be only because she wasn't yet at full strength.

He still had time to stop her.

But first, he had to find Dr. Rebik. Or what was left of the man.

He pulled his cell phone from its belt pouch and punched in Dr. Rebik's number. His mentor hadn't answered any of his previous calls, but there was always the chance that the resurrected she-demon had left her captive alone for a moment or that, as he was now so close, he'd hear the ringing of the doctor's phone.

"We're sorry; this number can not be completed as dialed. You must dial bleri or syk before the number. Please hang up and try again."

Bleri or syk? Brows drawn in to meet over his nose, Lance stared down at the keypad. His phone didn't come with a bleri or syk. d.a.m.n! It was the whole pizza number debacle all over again. No bleri, no syk, no eleven ... he should never have been seduced by that "Friday the Thirteenth Free" calling plan.

No matter.

Tucking the phone back into its pouch, he pulled a bandanna from another and tied it around his neck. Although Dr. Rebik could be anywhere in this mystical world of dark magic, the cheery looking blue-and-white cabana perched just above the high tide mark seemed the logical place to start.

"Lance is ..."

Meryat offered two words from within the shadows of her hood.

"No, he's not an idiot." Dr. Rebik smiled and stroked the back of her hand with one finger. "He's just under the impression that archaeology should be an adventure, like it is in the movies and on television. Mystic relics. Cursed idols. Dark magics. The return of ancient G.o.ds, wrathful and virtually omnipotent. He has a problem differentiating between fact and fiction."

"And yet . . ." Dean set a mug of coffee in front of the doctor and dropped into a chair across from him, cradling his own mug with both hands. ". . . you are traveling with a resurrected mummy there."

"Yes, well, there's always an exception that proves the rule."

"He said you broke the seal keeping Meryat in her sarcophagus."

"I did. Good coffee. Blue Mountain?"

"Organic Mexican."

"Ah." Another swallow and a happy sigh. His face puffy and deep purple bags under both eyes, the archaeologist looked as thrilled to be up at six thirty as Dean felt. "My Meryat was once the wife of Rekhmire, Grand Vizier to Ramses the Great. One of Ramses' Grand Viziers at any rate. He had four that we know of during the many years of his rule. She used to give the most magnificent parties, we've found records of them in a number of writings of that era, and at one of them she inadvertently insulted a High Priest by . . ."

Another word from within the hood.

Dr. Rebik cleared his throat, his ears red. "Yes. Well, there's no need to go into the specifics. The point is, the priest was insulted and, in a fit of pique, had her poisoned. Then he cursed her ka so that Anubis could not find it, confining it and her to the sarcophagus until a string of peculiar conditions were met that allowed the lock to be opened and Meryat to rise again."