“Horace!” Herman shouted in surprise, releasing his grip and embracing the boy in a giant bear hug. “You found me.”
“Where have you been?” Horace responded, catching his breath and getting his bearings. “You’ve been gone, like—forever! I thought you were coming right back after you took Tut to Egypt.”
“Sorry, I was sidetracked with other business connected to the Order. Tut’s return didn’t go as smoothly as I had hoped.”
“Is he okay?” asked Milton. He and Anna had come into the room.
“Hello, you two! Nice to see you. Yes, back to Tut. For now he’s safe. But there is a lot that still remains at stake,” Herman answered.
“But what was all that banging earlier?” asked Anna. “It sounded like something was exploding up here.”
Herman held up one of his shoes. “Oh, this.” He slipped it back onto his foot. “Sorry, there was an annoying fly I was trying to kill.”
The three kids laughed in relief.
“Enough of all that for now. Let me show you around.” Herman raised his arm in a grand gesture. “Anna, Horace, Milton, welcome to the Scarab Club—the humble headquarters of the Time Keepers!”
The kids blinked in disbelief as they stared around the room.
Now Horace could clearly see a spectacular wood-paneled room illuminated by the fire in the stone fireplace. The room itself was impressive, but the most breathtaking feature was a beautiful mural painted above the fireplace. The central image was of a massive tree, much like the one at Horace’s grandparents’ farm. In the branches of the tree was a strange collection of objects painted in dramatic colors. From where Horace stood, he could see an hourglass, a book, a globe, a jar of brushes, and an old man’s face. But before he could ask any questions, Milton started peppering Herman with his own.
“So, are you guys the same Time Keepers from Egypt?” asked Milton.
“Of course. I assume you already saw downstairs the pictures of our past presidents and the list of their names.”
The three kids nodded.
“Good.” Herman turned and with another sweeping gesture said, “And this is where we meet to discuss important matters of the day.”
“This place is incredible,” announced Anna.
“Make yourselves comfortable,” Herman said, and he pulled four chairs to the table. A stack of giant poster-size sheets of paper lay across it. “Let me clear this out of your way.” Herman began to flip through the pages, pushing them aside and making space for the kids. “The Order moved to the city over a century ago, but we only recently finished this building for our headquarters. A fitting place for the next few centuries,” he said with a smile.
“City?” Horace pointed down at one of the pages. “Wait, are these maps of . . .”
“Yup,” answered Herman. “Detroit. That’s where you’ve arrived.”
“Detroit! Awesome!” said Milton in excitement. “Maybe we can go to a Lions’ game!”
“Milton, you’ve got to be kidding yourself if you think this is the twenty-first century,” noted Anna. “I mean, look at our outfits.”
“You’re right,” Herman said, resting his arms on the table and shifting comfortably in his chair at the head of the table. “The year is 1926. The Lions won’t have their first season for another four years.”
“1926!” exclaimed the three kids simultaneously.
“So we’ve traveled back to the Roaring Twenties?” asked Horace.
Herman nodded.
“I thought so,” confirmed Anna. “The time of bootleggers and Prohibition!”
“That explains why those guys outside were so sketchy!” exclaimed Milton.
Herman nodded. “Detroit is a booming city, but also one full of contradictions. The two biggest industries are the car companies and the bootleggers illegally smuggling alcohol into the States from Canada. I wouldn’t recommend hanging out on these streets too long after the sun goes down.”
“But why Detroit? Why the 1920s?” asked Horace. “And why are you here? Shouldn’t you be back in Egypt?”
“There is a rich history to this place. What happens here in Detroit will change the world,” explained Herman.
“Just like what happened in Amarna would forever change Egypt,” added Anna.
“Exactly.” Herman picked up a map from under the pile. Horace could see a grid of roads, and the city along the Detroit River. “But don’t worry about all that now. I have a question for you three. How did you end up here?”
“Well,” Horace said, then paused a moment before continuing. “I’m not totally sure. We went to the museum to see if we could find out more on Niles’s history and the Keepers, and then we stumbled across this strange antique car called the Stout Scarab. It turned out to be some sort of portal.”
“Yes!” exclaimed Herman. “The other end is the lamppost here on Farnsworth Street.” Herman had a wide grin on his face. “Well done, Horace. It’s not every day a Keeper is able to find a new portal without any help or clues.”
“Actually, the reason we found the second portal in the first place is because something happened to the one out at the farm.” Horace was reluctant to tell Herman that he had tried to go back to Egypt through the portal. Herman had warned him not to attempt it.
“What do you mean?” asked Herman, setting aside the map.
“Herman, I have to tell you . . .” Horace took a deep breath. “I was going to try to go through the portal to visit Tut. But when I got to the tree, I discovered that the portal had been destroyed.”
A siren blaring in the distance seemed to correspond with the shock that now was spreading across Herman’s face. “Wait. What did you say?” Herman gripped the table with both hands.
Horace was embarrassed to admit that he had been defying Herman’s orders. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to check on Tut. I know it was a mistake,” said Horace apologetically.
Herman was shaking his head. “No, no, no. Not about Egypt. What did you say after that?”
“The portal. The one at the farm, in the tree—it was destroyed.”
Herman’s shock now turned to suspicion. “You are sure you saw this?”
“Yes,” Horace said defensively. “One hundred percent. I ran my hand over it. It looked like it had been carved out with a knife.”
Herman shook his head. “This can’t be happening.” His eyes seemed to glaze over, and he was lost in thought.
“It’s true,” interjected Anna. “We went to the museum today looking for answers, and we found the Stout car. And well, that’s how we found you.”
Anna’s words seemed to bring Herman back out of his thoughts. “I’m glad you discovered the car. The Stout Scarab was designed by two of our members to create a direct path between Niles and Detroit.”
“Portals can be created by people?” asked Milton, confused.
“Not often. But the individuals who created the Stout car were especially gifted and”—Herman paused to emphasize the point—“motivated to find a direct path between the two towns, fulfilling a unique mission they’d been given by the Order.”
But Horace was more concerned about the destroyed portal, and he redirected the questioning. “What about the portal at the farm, though? Do you know who could have destroyed it? Or why they would have done it?” added Horace.
“I don’t know.” Herman shook his head. “But it was no accident. The two things Keepers guard most are their portals and . . .” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a stone the color of an amethyst, placing it on the table. It was the size of a soft eraser and in the shape of a scarab beetle. The stone cast the whole table in a brilliant purple light.
Horace looked over at his friends, growing more confused. “What? You have a scarab?”
“We all do,” Herman said, and his eyes glowed from the reflection of the stone. “Each Keeper has his own unique beetle for opening the portals.”
“So there are other Keepers!” Horace exclaimed at this revelation.
“Of course,” Herman said with a nod. “The Order is very old, and these little beetles serve as our keys to this ancient network. Here, let me show you.” He smoothed out the map he had pulled out earlier from the stack.
The kids gathered closer around the table. In the light of the purple beetle, other features on the map began to appear.
“Wait, are these . . . portals?” asked Anna.
Herman beamed. “Now you are figuring it out. When you opened the portal at the farm to go back to Egypt, you unknowingly joined a vast network of Time Keepers connected to hundreds of portals connected to thousands of places.” Herman pointed down at the map. “It’s hard to keep track of them all, but these portals jump from different cities to different times.”
“Sounds like some complicated plumbing,” said Milton.
“And there are places where multiple portals exist simultaneously. These are called vortexes. They are very powerful, energetic places. You could say they are the Grand Central of time travel,” said Herman. “Detroit is one, and so is Niles.”
“Is a portal like a time machine?” asked Horace.
“No. Time machines can move from any time to any place. The portals are fixed routes between a specific time and a specific place. For example, the tree leads to Ancient Egypt, but only Egypt.” He looked back at the map and continued. “But when they are opened by a scarab, time within them begins to move again. It’s like suddenly the ink in a history textbook can be erased or rewritten. Does that make sense?”
“Wow!” exclaimed Anna. “This is super complicated and sounds really dangerous.”
“You’re saying, when we move through a portal, we can change history?” asked Horace.
“Yes.” Herman paused. “Time travel is not easy, and it should never be done lightly. History is not written in stone. There is fluidness to the past that is far more susceptible to change and influence than many realize. In numerous ways the Order plays a role in guarding that flow and movement.” Herman’s jaw tightened. “In our heyday we could fill this room from wall to wall with Keepers. But things have become more challenging.” Horace thought he saw some tears in his eyes, but then Herman quickly wiped them away. “Recent history has become more uncertain, and if what you say is true, Horace, things have become very dangerous. The Order isn’t as big as it used to be, but the forces against history have grown strong. It’s becoming more difficult to protect what we love.” For a moment Herman seemed lost in his thoughts, then he continued. “To destroy a portal is the greatest act of evil one could take against the Order. We are all in great danger. I must get you back home. Immediately!”
Herman jumped to his feet, pushing his chair up against the wall.
“Wait a minute. You’ve got to give us more information,” pleaded Horace. “You can’t just stop there. If we hadn’t found you, you would have never known about the tree portal being destroyed. And if the Order really is in danger, we need to know!”
Herman looked reluctant to say more, but Horace stood his ground.
“We aren’t leaving until you tell us what’s going on,” said Anna, supporting her friend.
“Yeah,” seconded Milton.
It became clear Herman was outnumbered and wasn’t going to win. He pulled his chair back and sat down. Leaning over the table, he began speaking in a whisper, as if whatever evil forces were working against them stood just outside the door. “The worst thing anyone could do to the Order is destroy the portals.” Herman looked straight at Horace. “It is not something I would like to imagine, but by doing so, it could potentially trap a Keeper on the other side of time.”
“What’s so bad about that?” asked Milton.
Herman took a deep breath and then released it. “I have only seen it once, and it is something I never want to see or think about again.” He swallowed hard, gathering his courage. “But since you ask, I will tell you. Each of us has a life force we come into the world with. That life force is tied to a particular time and place. A Time Keeper is an exceptional human being because they have the ability to open the doorways between different times and places. However”—Herman now was pointing his index finger at one of the portals on the map—“one can never stay too long on the opposite side of a portal. The flow of time is strong, like a deadly current pulling beneath the surface. If you do, your life force will begin to weaken and”—he paused—“you will thin.”
“You’ll lose weight?” asked Horace.
“That doesn’t sound so bad. My mom is always trying some new diet. I’m sure she’d be happy to get stuck in a portal for a little while,” added Milton.
“No.” Herman shook his head. “Not physical weight. You will thin like a piece of paper left out in the rain. Your strength will fade, then your thoughts . . .” He paused, emphasizing his next words. “And you will die.” He stopped and sat back in his chair. “It was lucky you weren’t on the other side of that portal when it was destroyed, Horace, but someone was hoping you were. A Keeper must always be careful how long they stay on the opposite side of time. The hourglass is merciless, and when the sand runs out . . . that’s it.”
Horace sat back, taking it all in. He had no idea about the specific risks of time travel. When he had traveled back to Egypt, he’d seen it as a great adventure. And yes, there were dangers in being in a far-off place, but actually having his life force drained out of him felt especially creepy. And he had put his friends in this kind of danger too! The thought sent a chill down his spine.
“Now you understand why I must get you home. If someone has destroyed the portal at the farm, they could just as easily destroy the portal you came through to find me.”
The kids’ eyes suddenly widened in understanding. Horace nodded. “Okay, we get it. But there has to be something we can do.”
“Go back to Niles. Wait until my next message, and keep your eyes open for anything suspicious,” said Herman. “That is enough for now. Hurry, we must get you back to the portal.”
Anna and Milton said their good-byes to Herman and then started back down the stairs. Horace and Herman followed. Just before Horace reached the first landing, however, Herman reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder.
“Horace.” Herman leaned in close so only the boy could hear his words. “Our enemies are dangerous. They stretch across history and will stop at nothing to destroy us. But there is something you can do for the Order.” He looked around before continuing. “If the portals really are under attack as you say, I can’t be traveling back and forth to Niles. It is too dangerous, even for me. I have to stay here in Detroit.”
Horace nodded. “I understand. I’ll be okay,” he answered reassuringly. “I’ve got Anna and Milton, and Shadow. We’ll watch out for any suspicious activity, just like you asked.”
“I know you will.” Herman paused to make sure the other kids weren’t in earshot. “But I need you to do something else for me, Horace.”
“Sure, what is it?” he asked.
Herman gripped Horace’s shoulder firmly. “If the portals are destroyed one by one, our enemies will be able to isolate each of us. We will be helpless, and the Keepers will be wiped out forever.” He leaned in. “But you know the true reason for the Order. It is more than just preserving individual pages of history; rather, we were created to safeguard the entire book.”
Horace’s eyes widened.
“We have guarded the Benben Stone across space and time for centuries, and we can’t let it fall into the wrong hands.”
“Do you think it’s Smenk who’s destroying the portals?” Horace asked, wondering if their old nemesis had returned from Egypt.
Herman shook his head. “No, I don’t. He is dead. Very few people could survive the destructive power that Smenk unleashed in Egypt. I fear it is someone we didn’t expect, someone on the inside, someone on the other end of the portal.”
“You mean in Niles?” Horace asked.
Herman did not directly answer his question. “We mustn’t make any assumptions. But I have a feeling the person who is destroying the portals is also seeking the Benben Stone.”
“Why?”
“Because if they are systematically destroying the portals one by one in Niles, they might also know where the stone is.”
“Wait, what do you mean?” Horace asked. “Didn’t you take the Benben Stone back to Egypt, where Tut and the others could keep it safe?”
Anna and Milton were now waiting patiently down by the front door.
“The stone isn’t in Egypt,” Herman said. “It’s in Niles.”
Horace’s mouth dropped open.
Herman leaned in. “And I need you to guard it.”
Horace was overwhelmed with anxiety. For weeks he had been thinking about the Benben Stone and wondering why Herman wouldn’t let him have it. And now Herman was saying that the stone had been in Niles all along? “But where is it, Herman? Back at the farm?” asked Horace. “The museum?”
“No.” Herman leaned closer. He spoke in such a low whisper that Horace could hardly hear him. “Go to the cemetery and find the Beeson Crypt. You’ll know what to do when you get there.”