Chapter Fifty-Nine

Trummel pulled himself up off the floor, feeling aches in his bruised body. He tasted blood in his mouth. He had one hell of a concussion and probably some broken ribs.

The crypt was a chaos of flashing lights. No sign of Gosswick or Caleb anywhere. They abandoned me.

Dyfan had his back turned and was placing a fat pumping heart inside a sarcophagus. “Ammit…”

Trummel drew his pistol and slowly approached Dyfan from behind. All of the scars on the psychic’s head and body glowed from some phosphorescent light that came from within. The codex, with all of its cryptic knowledge, on full display.

In the open coffins, three of the giants convulsed.

Whatever entity had possessed Dyfan’s corpse, it had to be stopped. Trummel cocked his pistol. Dyfan slowly turned his head, looking over his shoulder. He grinned and spoke in his normal Scottish accent. “You pompous fool. You thought these relics were for you?”

“What do you mean?” Trummel asked.

“I knew all along what destiny awaited me in this tomb. The gods called me here. You were nothing more than a means of transport. Jolly well done, old chap.”

Trummel felt the sting of betrayal. He shot point-blank into Dyfan’s skull. His head snapped back, and then he collapsed to the floor. Trummel put a couple more bullets in the psychic’s brain. Dyfan remained limp. The light emanating from his body went dark.

In the coffins, blue light coursed through three of the giants’ veins. Shafts of light beamed from their eyes and the gods began to moan.

Trummel shouldered his rucksack containing one of the heart-enshrouded books. He could feel the thing pumping frantically against his back. Holding his sore ribs, he walked to the steps that led up to the sealed door. He began hitting buttons on the wall. “Come on, open up!”

Behind him the resurrected gods howled.

He ran up the staircase. He tried to push the circular metal hatch open, but it remained locked.

A creature growled behind him. Ammit, the Devourer, crawled to the bottom of the steps and peered up at him with her crocodile head turned sideways. Saliva dripped from her sharp-toothed mouth.

Trummel tried to shoot the demon, but his pistol clicked empty. “Bugger!”

Anubis and Khnum, each wearing masks, chest armor, and kilts, stepped up behind Ammit. She crouched, ready to pounce. Anubis put his hand on her shoulder, holding her back.

Cornered, Trummel dropped the rucksack and did as humans have for millennia – he pled mercy from the gods.