Losing his hand proved entirely disarming for Willoughby.

He fell to his knees and let out a low groan. In the few moments it took him to look from his betrayer to the doorway, where the massive mummy had just collapsed in a heap, his face had already aged visibly. His unnatural vigor draining from him like the last air from a balloon, his big frame slumped. His ravaged windpipe released one last ragged gasp of protest before falling mercifully silent.

“You read the right spell,” said Ren, a smile blossoming on her face as she turned back toward Alex. “Cutting off the hand was the only thing left.”

A grisly tableau of life and death played out in fast-forward in front of them. Willoughby’s blank eyes slipped closed and his wrinkled skin grew tight and leathery and dry. His big frame tightened and pitched forward. Muscle collapsed in on itself until all that was left was skin and bone, facedown on the floor in an old explorer’s outfit. The friends watched in fascination and horror — and no small amount of satisfaction — until a clang drew their eyes away.

Robbie had dropped the shears and now ran over to join the others.

“You did it!” chirped Ren.

“That was disgusting!” said Robbie. “And I’ve seen disgusting down here.”

Alex finally realized what the two had been whispering about along the far wall. “Nice acting,” he managed.

He turned toward Ren and really looked at her for the first time in days: a little girl in a blue shirt and jeans with dirt on her face. While all he could think to do was attack, she’d done what she did best — and saved him. He gathered up as much air as his bruised lungs would hold.

“You make the best plans,” he managed.

She flashed him a quick smile. “I know,” she said, and then her smile turned mischievous. “You should try it sometime.”

Alex nodded, glad he’d get the chance. Then they heard a ripple of noise from Willoughby’s crumpled corpse and turned to look. The body was motionless, except for the stump where its hand had been, which had begun pumping a steady stream of red liquid into the room. No one had to wonder what it was this time. The chandelier began to fade to black as the floor near the body began to turn red.

“Gross,” said Ren.

A small tremor shook the room.

“I think we need to get out of here,” said Alex.

The other two helped him up. Alex winced from the pain in his ribs and gut.

Ren emptied the three lights from the backpack and stuck the ancient spell back inside. She looked around the room in the failing light. “The Crown Jewels,” she said.

“Yes,” said Alex.

A larger tremor nearly knocked them all down, but they were both museum kids, and they wouldn’t leave such priceless pieces behind. Robbie and Ren raced around, plucking the jewels from the wall and stuffing them in Alex’s pack. Ren wrestled a heavy purple crown ringed with a galaxy of multicolored jewels from its perch as Robbie grabbed a scepter topped with a diamond the size of a baby’s fist.

“Hurry,” said Alex, training his flashlight beam on the ceiling. Like the rest of the underground labyrinth, it had no supports, no crossbeams, and Alex now understood that the force holding it all up was the same thing that had been keeping it lit: Willoughby. Alex shone his flashlight back that way. The flow of dark liquid had intensified and was beginning to pool around the body.

Suddenly, the entire room shuddered and shifted. Dirt and clay rained down in chunks from the ceiling and the plaster on the walls began to crack loudly.

“This whole thing is going to come down!” shouted Ren.

They got out fast. Ren and Robbie helped Alex over the Liam-shaped lump at the entrance. The tomb where the mummies were created would now be their grave. The tunnel was pitch-dark, the green glow gone. They pointed their flashlights straight ahead.

“I’m okay,” said Alex. Adrenaline was flooding his system, and if he bent over at just the right angle, he could manage a decent jog. “I’ll follow as fast as I can.”

They both shook their heads, and Alex was in no condition to argue. He pushed harder, ignoring the pain. All he could do now was hope it was fast enough to stay ahead of the crumbling walls. The air in the tunnels filled with a sickening coppery smell — the scent of Willoughby’s blood.

“This way!” said Ren, one hand wrapped around her amulet. Reservations or not, this was no time for wrong turns.

A voice called out from the next intersection. “Is that you guys?”

Alex and Ren leveled their flashlights to be sure: Luke!

Alex couldn’t manage more than a smile, but Ren called out: “Where were you? Are you okay?”

“That stupid thing was chasing me,” said Luke as they caught up with him. “Then it just keeled over!”

“You’ve been running this whole time?” said Ren as the flashlights revealed large sweat stains on his T-shirt.

Luke shrugged. “Probably only four, five miles. We were going in kind of a loop.”

“Alex is hurt,” said Ren. “Help him, okay?”

“Sure.” Luke nodded toward Robbie as he wrapped a strong arm around Alex. “Some people are looking for you,” he said.

They hustled up the dark tunnel. There was no sign of Ta-mesah on the way up, his chamber off in a collapsing side tunnel, and the outcome of the catfight unclear. But there were other dangers. Lumps of dirt and clay continued to peel off and fall from the walls and ceiling around them.

“We need to hurry,” said Ren.

The fear of being buried alive beneath the old cemetery was on all of their minds. But none of them, not even Robbie, rushed on ahead. They would all make it out, or none of them would.

They were close now.

A two-foot chunk of dirt and stone broke loose from the top of the tunnel and landed with a thud in front of them. They had to scramble around it, and hope the next one wouldn’t land on their heads or bring the whole tunnel down. A deep rumble rose up behind them as the entire system began to collapse. Dirt and mud and clay were everywhere: raining down from above and rising up from below.

“We’re not going to make it!” yelped Robbie.

But Alex couldn’t accept that. After relying on only himself this entire time, after pushing relentlessly forward without really caring who came along, he realized something. Every single one of these people had saved his life. Now it was his turn.

“Yes, we are,” he said. His head hurt as much as his ribs, but he reached up and wrapped his hand around his amulet. He envisioned a perfect, round tunnel in front of them and pushed his hand forward, fingers spread, to make it so.

Eyes closed, teeth clenched, Alex gave it everything he had left.

His feet moved mechanically forward, and he went where Luke led. With all his strength, he used his amulet to create a wind tunnel around them. He could only hope the outward pressure would be enough to keep the walls and ceiling from collapsing in and burying them alive.

He was on the edge of unconsciousness, his strength spent, when he felt the wind blast back at him. His eyes edged open to reveal the stone door at the back of the crypt, slid halfway open to the Highgate night beyond.