As early as it was, Alex’s eyes snapped open at the first chirps of his alarm. It was finally time to head into the Valley of the Kings. His mind was eager, but his body registered its protest as he sat up. He’d barely slept, having been woken up twice during the night by bursts of light so bright they lit the inside of the tent like a camera flash. At first he was worried they were flares, that someone was out searching for them, but by the time he got the flap unzipped and looked out, the desert was dark again. Lying awake afterward, he began to get a very bad feeling about this place.

Now, as he fumbled around in the weak dawn light of the cramped tent, trying to put his socks on, the feeling became a question. The strange happenings in the valley were starting to fit an all-too-familiar pattern. What was causing the strange light and incredible heat out here? he wondered. What … or who?

It suddenly occurred to him how someone could get a sunburn at night … A Death Walker. Now he was awake. He pulled on his second sock in one clean movement and used that sock to kick Luke. “Come on, man,” he said. “It’s not getting any cooler out there.”

Luke groaned and pulled his thin, reflective camping blanket in closer. “Seems pretty cool in here,” he said.

“I’m putting my boots on,” warned Alex. “Don’t make me kick you again.”

“I will beat you like pancake batter, little man,” said Luke, but he was already sitting up.

Alex adjusted his new hat and exited the tent. He waited impatiently for the others. His mom had been here. He was sure of it. Why else would she come to Luxor? Maybe there were signs in the valley, things only he would recognize …

Ren emerged from her tent next. Finally, he thought.

“Where’s your friend?” he said.

“Back on the hunt, I guess,” said Ren.

“Tell her to bring a burger next time,” said Luke, emerging from the tent. “Not another bug.”

The three friends headed down the slope, Alex in the lead and the others trudging silently a few steps back. They reached the place the taxi had refused to go past the day before, and this time they kept going. The sun was a broken red yolk, leaking upward over the horizon, and the rocky slopes above them were still streaked with deep purple shadows as the group of three entered the Valley of the Kings.

They wouldn’t be alone for long.

The walls of the valley loomed above them, holding the low sun at bay and casting the landscape into deep shadow. It felt like a secret world. The hard-packed ground had been worn smooth by the boots of a million tour groups, but it was empty and quiet now. A little swirl of sand swept by them like a toy tornado, and they all watched it — Ren especially — until it collapsed in a knee-high shower of sand. Alex reached up and wiped his forehead. The air was already hot. Too hot for this dim morning hour, but still bearable.

“We won’t be able to stay here long,” he said, looking up at the sun’s ominous glow, growing along the ridgeline. They were approaching the open mouth of the first tomb. “Time to get to work. Use your amulet, Ren.”

“You first,” Ren countered quickly.

Alex shrugged and took hold of the scarab. Immediately, his pulse quickened and his system revved. It was a physical rush not so different from fear, from the charged moment right before the roller-coaster car plunges downward. He closed his eyes for a few steps, trying to open himself up to whatever the scarab had to say.

The others watched closely as Alex searched his mind for the little shimmer at the edge of his senses that would tell him of magic and death. He let the scarab fall from his hands.

“What?” said Ren, who’d seen him do this before. “Nothing?”

He looked at her, his eyes wide with wonder. “It’s everywhere,” he said.

“Oh, great,” said Luke.

Alex didn’t know quite how to explain it. The shimmer wasn’t at the edge of his senses this time. Instead, it covered them like a fog. But it was blurred, indistinct. Looking for the supernatural activity in a valley full of tombs in a haunted country was like trying to find a puff of smoke in a fog bank. But there were other methods.

They’d passed the first tomb and were about to pass another. It was one of the lesser-known tombs, on the outskirts of the Valley of the Kings. It was barely even marked. “Let’s try in here,” said Alex.

“Is it something you sensed?” said Ren, a hint of fear in her voice.

Alex pointed to his left ear. “Something I heard.”

The three friends stopped walking and listened. Faint pings and clicks and thumps emanated from the open mouth of the little tomb. Alex reached into his backpack and pulled out his flashlight. He didn’t know who was making those noises, but anyone already in the valley might have seen his mom.

Ren reluctantly reached into her pack and pulled out her own flashlight. She clicked it on and looked at the strong light approvingly. “At least we have new batteries,” she said.

“Awesome,” said Luke. “We can throw them at the mummies.”

They crept through a gate of thick, white-painted metal bars, unlocked and wide open, and into the dark mouth of the tomb. Alex heard Ren groan softly, but he had the opposite reaction. He felt distinctly, undeniably comfortable as they headed down into the sacred ground. It was as if this was where he belonged. He shook his head hard to dislodge the thought.

The pings and clacks and thumps got louder with each step they took, echoing through the narrow tunnel. And then, abruptly, they stopped.

“Uh-oh,” said Ren, and as soon as she did, a voice called out in response. “Who’s there? Who is that?”

Alex reached desperately for his amulet with his free hand. They’d given themselves away with their flashlights and footsteps. But then he placed the voice.

“Izzie?” he said.

The odd academic from the docks appeared in front of them. Alex’s flashlight beam cut across her face and lit the white H on her baseball cap. “Oh, it’s you,” she said. “You kids gave us a scare.”

“Us?” said Ren.

Izzie turned and said, “It’s okay, Bridger.”

As she did, the tunnel behind her began to glow. A man appeared, kneeling next to a portable electric lantern and turning it up. The man wore a stained shirt that hung over his massive gut and an old-fashioned fedora hat that looked almost dainty in comparison. Behind him was a large chamber and two more men.

Alex sized them up in the dim light of the lantern: button-down shirts in the desert, wire-frame glasses, good boots, Izzie’s Harvard cap and Bridger’s Indiana Jones fedora. He knew this type.

“You’re archaeologists,” he said, the relief clear in his voice.

“How do you know that?” said Bridger, as if Alex had accused them all of something.

Alex suddenly realized that they all had their hands behind their backs. “Um,” he said, his relief fading. “Because my mom is, too. Her name is Maggie Bauer. Dr. Maggie Bauer.”

Despite the strange situation, Alex felt a wild, electric hope as he said the words. He was sure they’d know the name. Any archaeologist would right now: her name and probably her face. She was the woman who had found the legendary Lost Spells. Had they seen her?

But the group’s response was anything but electric. A heavy silence filled the tomb. Small movements cast long shadows in the lantern light, and a distinct chill went through the warm, stale air. “You should go,” said one of the men.

Ren tried to thaw things out. “I’m Ren,” she said cheerily. “Are you camping up along the ridge?”

“Maybe,” said Bridger.

“Well, I’m not waiting any longer,” said one of the men. “We barely have another hour.”

“Me either,” said Bridger, moving away from the lantern.

Alex heard a chipping sound: plik, plik, plik … And then a chopping sound: thunk, thunk, thunk … Something was happening along the shadowy walls of the chamber. He swung his own flashlight around for a better look.

He couldn’t believe it.

Bridger was standing against the wall with a rock hammer in his hand, dislodging a stone relief. The piece was intricately carved, covered in deep-cut hieroglyphic symbols, and thousands of years old.

“What are you doing?” said Alex.

“If I don’t do it, someone else will,” said Bridger without bothering to pause his plunder.

“That’s tomb robbing!” said Ren.

Alex saw her swing her flashlight toward Izzie, an appeal to the clear leader of the group to control her own. But Izzie was doing the same thing!

She didn’t even turn around as the light danced across the back of her sweat-stained shirt. “Stop!” shouted Ren.

Now Izzie turned around. “I’m sorry,” said Izzie, shielding her eyes from Ren’s accusing flashlight. “I guess you’re too young to understand. Only the most important tombs are being guarded now. These objects are vulnerable. We are saving them.”

“You are stealing them!” said Alex.

The room grew deathly quiet again. Alex suddenly realized that they were outnumbered by four adults with sharp-tipped hammers in their hands. He didn’t care. “My mom would never do this!”

“Well, she’s not here anymore,” said Bridger.

Alex nearly fell over, a single word echoing like cannon fire in his brain. “What —” he stammered. “What do you mean ‘anymore’?”

“Nothing,” said Izzie before he’d even finished asking. “Shut up, Bridger. You talk too much. And I will not be lectured by children! It is time for you three to go.”

Alex was still staring at Bridger.

He still hadn’t answered the question.

“But you’re not supposed to be like this,” Ren said to Izzie, her words heavy with disappointment. “You’re from Harvard.”

“Formerly from Harvard,” said Izzie. “This is my ticket back … Now get out of here.”

“Hold on a second,” said Bridger, and suddenly the beam of his flashlight played across the front of Ren’s shirt. “That’s a nice necklace … An ibis, isn’t it?”

Another flashlight beam swung around, framing the amulet.

Alex instinctively stepped in front of his friend, his hand rising to the amulet around his own neck. “Yeah, I’ve got one, too, guys.”

“Yeah, seriously,” said Luke, taking a step toward Bridger. “Back off, man.”

“That’s enough,” said Izzie. “We are not thieves.”

Alex didn’t bother to point out that she was saying that with a rock hammer in her hand and the dust of ancient limestone on her face. He looked away from her in disdain and turned back to Bridger. He said his next words very clearly. “What do you mean ‘anymore’?” His hand was still on his amulet, and he knew he could level this big man with a blast of wind or batter him with his own hammer, but a single sound changed the equation.

Klickk!

In the dim lantern light, Alex couldn’t even see which one of them had cocked the gun. He recalculated. He wanted to push the issue, to make the man tell him what he’d meant. If it was just him — and his scarab — he would have. But Ren and Luke were there, too. A single shot in this tight space, a single ricochet … Still, he needed to know if this man had seen his mom. “I don’t think you understand the danger you’re in,” said Alex, tightening his grip on the scarab.

Bridger laughed as he switched his hammer to his left hand and removed something from under his untucked shirt with his right. Alex didn’t need to wait for the click to know it was a second gun. “I don’t think you do, either, little boy.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” said Izzie, stepping forward. “Just tell him, Bridger. We don’t want to shoot children.”

Bridger made no move to put his very large revolver away, but he relented slightly. “Fine,” he said. “I saw Bauer coming out of KV 62 … eight, nine days ago. Your mother never did have time for the small stuff.” He waved his pistol vaguely around the small tomb to make his point.

Alex gobbled up the fresh information greedily, but that didn’t mean he was going to let this guy insult his mom. “Yeah, she never stole it, either!”

Bridger smiled wickedly. “No,” he said, “not the small stuff …”

Alex took a step toward him; Bridger raised his pistol.

“Enough!” said Izzie. “He told you what he saw. Now do your part and stop wasting our valuable time.”

Alex looked around: long shadows, drawn guns, unfriendly faces. “Fine,” he said. “Let’s go.”

The three friends backed carefully out of the desecrated chamber.

“Where are we going?” said Ren as they reached the main tunnel.

“KV 62,” said Alex. He knew exactly which tomb that was — there wasn’t an Egyptologist’s son who didn’t — and he understood Bridger’s jab, too. KV 62 was no one’s idea of “small stuff.” And with three little words, Alex clued the others in as well. “King Tut’s tomb.”