“Horace. Horace,” the voice repeated. “Wake up.” A cold splash of water came across his face like an icy bath in Lake Michigan.
Horace struggled to open his eyes. A throbbing pain filled his head as a blurry face swam in front of his eyes. “Dad?” For a moment he wondered if he was at home in bed; but then he realized he was on his side with the cold ground underneath him. He thought he heard the sound of leaves rustling.
The voice laughed, and another cold wave of water hit Horace in the face.
He tried to move his arms but realized they were tied behind his back. He struggled to sit up.
“I caught you sneaking around the museum.” Horace’s vision cleared, and Mr. Franken’s face came into view. “You think I’m so stupid to leave the Stout Scarab unwatched. The only reason I haven’t destroyed that portal is because I’m waiting for Herman to show his face back here again.”
Horace’s head still ached, but he began to look around desperately. He knew he was no longer in the museum, but where had Mr. Franken taken him? From the rustling sounds and the tall shadows around him, he thought he was out in the woods.
“Where are my friends?” Horace demanded, twisting and turning to look for Anna and Milton.
Mr. Franken bent down. “They are back at the museum. I knocked them out as well and tied them up in the carriage house. I’ll deal with them later.” His face darkened. “But now I need you.”
Horace looked around and suddenly realized where Mr. Franken had brought him. It wasn’t the woods; it was Silverbrook Cemetery. Parked across from where he lay was Mr. Franken’s car. Horace felt the cold marble against his back and now realized where he was—Mr. Franken had tied him up against the front of the Beeson Crypt!
Mr. Franken walked over and poked Horace. “You are now going to help me.”
“Get your hands off me!” Horace yelled. “I’m not helping you.” His shirt was soaked from the cold water, and he was starting to shiver.
Mr. Franken smiled. “But you already have. I circled back on foot after you saw me leave the cemetery, and I followed you to this tomb. I never would have discovered where Herman had hidden the Benben Stone if you hadn’t shown me. And now you will do one more thing for me.”
“I’m not going to help you get into the tomb,” responded Horace, guessing Mr. Franken’s next move.
“You think I need help getting into this building? Fool, the Order was great at hiding their treasures, but they never knew how to protect them.” He walked to the trunk of the car, opened it, and pulled out a thick crowbar.
“Herman did his best to keep that information from me.” He laughed a hollow-sounding cackle. “But I had no idea there was another one of you. And the fact that Herman left you to guard the stone? I can’t believe it. As a Keeper, I also know you have possession of a beetle.”
“I don’t know where it is,” answered Horace. He knew he was a terrible liar, but he hoped it might be enough to fool Mr. Franken. “I don’t have it.”
“Don’t lie to me,” responded Mr. Franken. He walked over and began searching Horace’s pockets. With his hands tied behind him, Horace couldn’t stop the man. It didn’t take long before he discovered the beetle, and he soon pulled it out.
“It will never work for you!” shouted Horace. “It’s mine.” Only a Keeper would be able to use the sacred scarab beetle. He’d learned that by watching Smenk struggle to use his beetle back in Egypt.
Mr. Franken smiled. “I bet Herman forgot to tell you something very important. You see, I’m a Keeper as well. Well, maybe, was is a better word. Let’s just say my interest in finding treasure was stronger than my interest in protecting the Order or its mission. Unlike our other members, I saw the potential for power and wealth in the Benben Stone. They were only concerned with knowledge and history.”
He went up to the door of the tomb and, using the crowbar, began to strike at it. It only took a few hard blows before the old handle with its lock shattered. Mr. Franken threw the crowbar aside and pulled the door open, stepping inside the tomb.
Instantly he was bathed in the familiar purple light emanating from the Benben Stone. Horace craned his neck to see inside. Mr. Franken turned back to look at the boy and smiled a knowing grin.
Horace watched in stunned silence as Mr. Franken reached out and inserted the beetle into the stone. He kept his hand there, holding the beetle in place.
But before Horace could think through the significance of this act, he found himself frozen by the images emerging from the stone.
Mr. Franken turned toward him. “You know there is a treasury the Keepers have kept secret for centuries, and within it is a great prophecy. Your grandfather knew about it. And with your help, I’m going to access the power of this stone and discover the treasury’s location. And along with it, the prophecy. With that information, I can destroy the Order.”
Horace tried to pay attention to what Mr. Franken was saying, but his mind was occupied on another question. How was Mr. Franken able to use his beetle, Horace’s beetle? Didn’t the beetle belong just to him? Hadn’t Herman said that each Keeper had his or her own beetle?
Mr. Franken was quickly moving through the memories like a master artist. “Show me the treasury,” he whispered into the stone.
An image of a cemetery appeared—a different cemetery than the one they were now in; yet there was something familiar about the place. It was one Horace was sure he’d seen before, but he couldn’t remember where. Then suddenly, as he peered deeply into the memory, Horace realized why the graveyard was familiar. And from the expression of recognition on his face, Mr. Franken apparently knew it as well. It was the same cemetery that was featured in the photo in the museum. Why was the stone showing them this strange place?
Horace knew he needed to stop Mr. Franken from further accessing the stone’s memories and discovering the treasury and its ancient prophecy. But how?
He then heard something rustling just a few feet behind him. It was Shadow. Somehow she had found him. She must have followed Mr. Franken’s car over from the museum. She was slowly walking toward him.
“Shadow,” Horace whispered, “come help.” He turned his back to show his bound wrists. “Here, Shadow.”
The falcon didn’t need any further direction. She hopped across the marble to Horace. Then she lowered her beak and began pecking at the thick rope. Horace didn’t think he’d ever get free at this pace; the bird’s movements were too slow and deliberate. But then, as if sensing his anxiety, Shadow redoubled her efforts and began to tear at the knots with both her beak and her claws. The rope started to shred, and Horace was able to wiggle his hands to loosen the bindings even more.
As soon as his hands were free, Horace felt a wave of relief. But he kept his hands hidden behind his back so that Mr. Franken didn’t realize what had happened.
It didn’t matter, though; Mr. Franken was totally consumed by the images now projecting from the stone. His attention seemed to be captivated by one image in particular, a strange Egyptian-style tomb in the cemetery.
Keeping his gaze on Mr. Franken, Horace slowly began to slide himself toward the open door of the crypt. Even with the man’s back to him, he still felt vulnerable. But Horace decided he had to take the risk. He had to stop Mr. Franken from going farther into the stone.
Reaching the doorway, Horace could see that Mr. Franken and the Benben Stone were still at least a dozen feet away. He jumped up and sprinted as fast as he could across the slick marble floor, hoping to take the man by surprise.
But the crackle of a leaf under his foot gave away his approach. Mr. Franken suddenly turned, raising his left forearm with a force that Horace hadn’t expected. The full brunt of the blow sent Horace smashing against the hard stone of the crypt’s wall. He slumped against it. Horace tried to catch his breath, pondering his next move, when Shadow suddenly swooped in behind him and started beating her wings in Mr. Franken’s face.
The distraction from Shadow gave Horace a second opportunity. He jumped back to his feet and, with the full force of his body, slammed his hand against Mr. Franken’s hand holding the beetle in the stone.
“Get your hands off it!” Mr. Franken screamed. “Let go!”
The two were now battling fiercely to gain possession of the small beetle. It fell from Mr. Franken’s grasp, sliding across the floor. Shadow swooped in agitated circles just above their heads.
Horace scrambled after the beetle and grabbed it with his right hand, but Mr. Franken was behind him, pulling at his ankle. Mr. Franken’s grip was far stronger than Horace had expected for someone his grandfather’s age. Horace twisted and turned, trying to get back to his feet. But he was yanked back to the ground by Mr. Franken.
Mr. Franken was now dragging Horace closer to him, while the boy did everything he could to keep the beetle out of reach. But the man was too strong. He grabbed Horace’s hand and pried the scarab beetle out of his fingers.
“Got it!” he shouted in victory. He leaped to his feet and then gave Horace a hard kick to the stomach. The force of his kick caused Horace to curl over, coughing. Shadow landed next to his side.
Mr. Franken turned back toward the Benben Stone while Horace struggled to catch his breath. “If I didn’t need you so close, I would have let you rot away with your friends in the carriage house. But this beetle won’t work without you nearby.” He paused and turned his attention back to the stone resting on its altar. “Once I find the secret location of the treasury, I’ll also find the lost prophecy, and your usefulness will be over.”
Mr. Franken didn’t waste any more time, and he quickly reopened the Benben Stone.
But Horace wouldn’t be so easily defeated. He used the last of his strength to straighten himself up. Shadow flew up from her place on the floor, hitting Mr. Franken in the head with the full force of her wings. As the man was thrown off balance, Horace saw his opening. He grabbed the beetle from Mr. Franken’s hand. But just as Horace gained possession of it, Mr. Franken pulled at his shirt. Trying to steady himself, Horace reached out with his other hand and grabbed the closest thing to him, the Benben Stone.
Suddenly the Benben Stone erupted in an intensity of light that Horace had never seen before. The light filled the entire room, and in the next moment Horace felt himself falling forward.