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Chapter 11

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Aghurmi Mound, Siwa Oasis, Egypt

THE NIGHT WAS cool and dim, lit only by the stars and a quarter moon. It meant that Crowley and Rose were able to see once their eyes had adjusted, but the shadows were deep, pitch dark and mysterious. The breeze caused tarpaulins and tent flaps around the dig site to flap gently, occasionally slapping like restless sails. There were no guards, no people at all, as the two made their way silently through the site, looking nervously left and right.

After a tentative pass through, getting the lay of the land and ensuring they were, in fact, entirely alone, Crowley pointed to the large covered area where they had first spotted Professor Dado Hamza. “Let’s start there,” he whispered.

“What do you expect to find?” Rose was equally sotto voce even though they had established they were alone. Something about the darkness and their uninvited snooping about made them both cautious.

“No idea, really. But Hamza was hiding something, I know it. If we can’t turn up anything here, I’ll find out where he’s staying and pay the man a visit. Extract the answers from him.”

He felt Rose’s disapproval as she asked, “What do you mean by that?”

“Use your imagination.”

The covered area didn’t give up much, only tools and sketches of the different areas being investigated. As they made their way to other tents nearby, they began to relax. A tapping, like someone knocking rapidly on stone, rang out and they froze. Heart racing, Crowley scanned the darkness, Rose beside him doing the same.

“What was that?” she whispered eventually.

“No idea. Animal?”

“Maybe not!”

“Come on.”

They crept forward again, on high alert now. Crowley tried to pierce every shadow with his vision, but the darkest areas were inky and impenetrable. He thought his ears must be standing out from the sides of his head he was listening so hard. The soft crunch of sand and gravel under their careful steps, the breeze gently stropping the tent sides, the rustle of palm leaves and occasional chatter of a night bird. Though the night was cool, sweat trickled along Crowley’s spine under his shirt.

Each of the dig trenches was like a grave, filled with darkness. In some they could vaguely make out silhouettes of disturbed earth at the bottom, others seemingly abysses falling away forever. Crowley briefly entertained they idea of tripping and tumbling into one, spinning through darkness for eternity.

He sniffed, took a deep breath. The place was giving him the creeps. It’s just an empty desert settlement! he chided himself, but the thought felt hollow even in his own mind.

Something on the air tickled his nose and he couldn’t place it. But it felt wrong, out of place somehow. Fragrant, vaguely floral. Perhaps another of the night blossoms they had smelled in the town. Though it wasn’t quite the same.

A row of small tents marked one side of the dig and they approached slowly, trying to look everywhere at once. Then that rapid tapping again, or perhaps a clicking.

They froze.

“What is that?” Rose’s voice was tight in her throat.

Crowley shook his head. “Maybe a lizard? I know there are geckos in Asia and Australia that make that kind of sound.”

It didn’t repeat and, after another minute or so, Crowley moved on. He lifted one tent flap, held his breath while he flicked on the flashlight app on his phone and shone it around inside. Tools, crates, a table with some interesting small items on it, earthenware that seemed ancient. The next couple of tents were the same.

What did he expect to find here? Crowley became frustrated, the sensation of failure settling over him. Hamza had definitely been withholding something, some information about Lily or about this mysterious Anubis Key. He didn’t know what, but the man had every sign of the nervous interviewee. And he had quickly concluded their meeting once Rose and he had pressed for more about things the Professor seemed to write off as complete superstition. There was certainly some valuable detail to be found somewhere, but perhaps it wasn’t here. Maybe Crowley would have to have another, more private, conversation with Hamza. The thought made him squirm. He had used all kinds of less than civilized techniques over his army career, and more recently during his and Rose’s last adventure, but he would never like those methods.

Crowley spotted a larger tent, out away from the others. He pointed and Rose nodded. When they reached it, Crowley lifted one side of the entrance, tried to pierce the darkness, but couldn’t. He flicked on his phone flashlight  again and played it around inside. The tent was completely empty but for a large hole in the center of the covered ground.

He crept nearer, shone his light in and saw ancient stone steps leading down some three or four meters to an excavated passageway. The passage disappeared into impenetrable shadow. And that aroma again, stronger now, drifting up from below. Incense, Crowley realized, being burned somewhere far along in the darkness.

He cautiously took the first few steps down, then crouched to listen. Voices, muffled and distant, singsong. He glanced up to Rose to see if she heard it too and she gave a single nod, her eyes wide in concern.

He turned out his light and descended the last few steps into blackness. He heard a soft scuff as Rose followed, then she put a hand on his shoulder. She leaned close, her breath hot against his ear. “Are you sure?”

“We’ll just go a little closer, see what we find.”

The passage sloped slowly downwards, curving subtly to the left. After a while, a weak golden glow began to light the pale sandstone blocks that made up the walls, floor and ceiling.

The voices they heard resolved into a strange chanting, the language not anything Crowley had ever heard before. The golden glow began to flicker and the passage opened out into a large circular room, dome-ceilinged. The flickering light came from a circle of thick candles, pushing back the shadows to writhe around the walls like silhouettes of dancers. In the circle, four men in full length deep crimson robes, hoods pulled over to hide their faces in shadow, were gathered around another figure, worshipping as they chanted.

Crowley gasped at the sight of the tall, dog-headed figure in the center, candlelight reflecting off the gold and precious stones of its long skirt and intricately-patterned broad necklace.

Anubis looked up, black head swiveling to stare directly at Crowley as he tried to duck back into the shadows of the passage. Crowley quickly realized Anubis was simply a man in elaborate costume, but he been seen.

A voice yelled out. “Intruders! Grab them!”