Their hostess was nowhere in sight the next morning, but a traditional Egyptian breakfast was waiting on the kitchen counter downstairs: three plates of fava beans — some whole, some mashed, all cold — with thick pita bread tucked along the sides. “What is this?” asked Ren, grabbing the nearest plate and shoveling some of the beany mix into a pita.

“It is called fuul,” said Todtman, doing the same.

“Fuel?” said Ren.

“Close enough,” said Todtman.

Alex looked around for doughnuts or Pop-Tarts before reluctantly picking up the third plate. He watched the others devour their food without injury and took a bite. Earthy and bitter, the fuul tasted like a combination of hummus, lemon, and something grittier. He took another bite. Then another. It wasn’t so bad, actually. Alex wolfed down his second overstuffed pita and burped. Ren gave him a disapproving look, but Todtman ignored it and said, “Let’s go. The university will be open by now.”

As soon as they stepped out the door, they saw Safa and Bubbi standing next to the rental car in the driveway, their eyes on a small electronic sensor in Bubbi’s hands. Finally, he looked up and shook his head: No. Safa walked straight toward them and met them halfway down the walkway.

“No tracking devices,” she said. “At least none that we could detect.”

“Oh!” said Todtman, an involuntary exclamation that told them all that the possibility hadn’t occurred to him.

Safa gave him a sympathetic look. “Sometimes I think you actually live in the ancient world, Doctor.”

“Sometimes I wish I did,” he said with a slightly abashed smile.

The well-traveled old rental car started on the second try. The gleaming security gate seemed to kick the sputtering clunker out with some disdain, hissing open and then shutting with a loud thunk.

“Who’d want to track this hunk of junk?” said Ren from the backseat.

Alex smiled, but his eyes were alert. They were out in broad daylight in a major Egyptian city. The Order’s influence was everywhere in Egypt, and this particular hunk of junk held three very wanted individuals. He felt better in fast-moving traffic. It would be hard to see his face at that speed, and apart from that, he didn’t really stand out from the crowd around them. He’d inherited a lot of his father’s Egyptian features, even if he’d never known the man.

He looked around the car. Ren’s eyes barely topped the rear windows, but Todtman couldn’t have stood out more if he was wearing bright green lederhosen.

They’d arrived in Alexandria at night, and now he sized it up by daylight. History revealed itself in layers from block to block. Some stretches were distinctly Egyptian, with mosque minarets needling upward. Other areas were almost European, like a faded, peeling version of the pastel beauty he’d seen in Vienna. And now and then, in between buildings and avenues, he caught sun-sparkling glimpses of the massive blue Mediterranean beyond.

A chorus of car horns erupted all around them as the traffic on the street came to a halt. As Alex looked around for the problem, the horns were drowned out by the sound of an approaching siren. He swung back around in time to see a fire engine roar into view in front of them.

“Where’s the fire?” said Ren, ducking her head between the front seats.

The crowd began to scatter on the sidewalk up ahead, and Alex heard shouts in Arabic and a few screams. As the last pedestrians ducked into nearby doors or rushed out into the stopped traffic, he finally saw the cause of the commotion: a ragged mummy, stumbling down the center of the sidewalk!

Three firefighters appeared behind it, running fast despite their heavy coats. As the first of them approached the ancient corpse from behind, he began pumping feverishly on the sort of small metal canister used to spray chemicals on lawns.

“Are they going to, um, fertilize it?” said Ren, retreating slightly into the backseat.

The creature began weaving unevenly between the sidewalk and the edge of the road. The screams coming from within the cars were more muted now, as any open windows were rapidly raised. The mummy was just a few car-lengths away, and Alex could see its dry wrappings flapping loosely in the morning breeze and one skeletal foot bent nearly backward. The fireman gave the canister one more pump and then pointed the little nozzle. Clear liquid sprayed forth, dousing the mummy’s back.

“BROAN!” it cried hoarsely. “STAHK!”

It turned around and faced its pursuers. The eyes of the man with the spray can turned into wide white-rimmed circles, and he began mumbling prayers, but still he pointed the nozzle. He doused the mummy’s front, then tucked the nozzle and ran as the thing stumbled toward him, arms out, bony fingers reaching for living flesh. The second firefighter turned and ran, too. The third prepared to bolt, but before he did, he tossed a small glowing object toward the lumbering corpse.

FOOOF!

The mummy went up in flames. It roared angrily and took a few more steps before collapsing facedown in the street.

The firefighters rushed back, not with gas this time but with a long hose from the truck. They waited until the dried-out corpse was little more than ash before turning the hose on. Ash and steam and scraps of aged linen rose up into the morning sun.

The pedestrians reappeared from the doors and walked almost casually around the remains as the firefighters coiled their hose. The honking resumed. “It appears that they have seen this before,” said Todtman as the fire truck pulled away and the traffic began moving again.

Alex had never seen firefighters start a fire before — much less by lighting a desiccated corpse — but the world was changing. He remembered the angry, haunted streets of Cairo. The dead there had been only whispers, voices. Now they were part of the morning rush hour.

As the car picked up speed, they lowered the windows again. The warm, slightly salty breeze felt good as they rolled through the city, their eyes peeled for mummies or Order operatives. From her perch in the backseat, Ren saw Alex’s head swiveling from side to side, like an electric fan. Scanning the sidewalk, always on the lookout.

She knew he’d been joking about the “little sister” thing, but he really did treat her like one sometimes. He was so determined that he sometimes took on more responsibility than he should. Don’t say you have first watch if you can’t stay awake, she thought, staring at the back of his head. What if that thing had attacked her? She was pretty sure he would’ve slept through the whole thing. And it definitely wasn’t the first time he’d bitten off more than he could chew and gotten them into trouble. Yeah, he knew a lot about ancient Egypt. Yeah, he was good with his scarab.

But he wasn’t the only one who knew things, who could do things. She glanced down at her ibis. It had allowed her to zap that shadow, and it had shown her this city. Was she really getting better with it?

Ren didn’t believe in luck; she believed in probability. When she used the amulet, it still felt like rolling the dice. It had failed her before. Still, it was nice to have a few wins under her belt. For now, she reached up and tucked the ancient artifact under her shirt, careful not to hold it too tightly and invite more images in.

As for Alex … She glanced toward the front seat. He had his entire head out the window now, like a wind-drunk dog. She smiled. It was hard to stay mad at him. But if he messes up again, she thought, it will get a lot easier.

They reached the university, found a parking spot in the visitors’ lot, and walked toward the main building, a massive redbrick structure. Even in the middle of the summer, students and professors were walking by, carrying books and having intense conversations. And not just in Arabic. Ren caught snatches of English and French and other languages she didn’t know. Not yet, anyway.

As a girl who’d been browsing college websites since fourth grade, she felt, if not at home, then at least more at ease. She remembered her dad’s words: Negativity accomplishes nothing, unless you’re an ion. She wasn’t a subatomic particle, and they had work to do. They pushed through the big double doors of the administration building.

“We’re going to stop them,” she said with a sudden rush of optimism. The mid-morning heat faded inside the cool, hushed hallway.

Todtman, who seemed to know these hallways, looked over at her. “Oh yes?” he said, his expression somewhat bemused.

“Yes,” she said firmly, spreading her arms to take in their scholarly surroundings. “Because we’re smarter.”

Alex agreed immediately. “Those are some ignorant individuals,” he said. He looked over at Ren and added, “My mom went here.” His eyes were wide with wonder. He pointed emphatically down at the marble-tiled hallway. “She probably walked right here!”

Todtman brought the group to a halt in front of a heavy wooden door. A little plaque beside it read ROOM 111-B, DR. ALSHUFF. “This is it,” he said.

He knocked three times with the rubber tip of his cane.

Puhnk! Puhnk! Puhnk!

“Willkommen!” a voice called through the door.

Clearly, they were expected.

What Ren had no way of knowing as they walked into the sunny, book-lined office was that the old professor within wasn’t the only one expecting them.