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Chapter 2 by TylerUchiha TylerUchiha

My father blew up the Rosetta Stone

But a quick visit the Cleopatra's Needle.

Our taxi snaked its way along the banks of the Thames. Just past Waterloo Bridge, my dad tensed. “Driver,” he said. “Stop here a moment.”

The cabbie pulled over on the Victoria Embankment.

“What is it, Dad?” Carter asked.

He got out of the cab like he hadn’t heard him. When Sadie, Carter and I joined him on the sidewalk, he was staring up at Cleopatra’s Needle.

In case you’ve never seen it: the Needle is an obelisk, not a needle, and it doesn’t have anything to do with Cleopatra. I guess the British just thought the name sounded cool when they brought it to London. It’s about seventy feet tall, which would’ve been really impressive back in Ancient Egypt, but on the Thames, with all the tall buildings around, it looks small and sad. You could drive right by it and not even realize you’d just passed something that was a thousand years older than the city of London.

“Gods.” Sadie walked around in a frustrated circle. “Do we have to stop for every monument?”

My dad stared at the top of the obelisk. “I had to see it again,” he murmured. “Where it happened...”

A freezing wind blew off the river. I wanted to get back in the cab, but my dad was really starting to worry me. I’d never seen him so distracted.

Instantly I knew what happened here, and my eyes hardened before I turned to look at the cars passing by.

"What happened?" Carter asked, looking nervous.

“The last place I saw her.”

Sadie stopped pacing. She scowled at me uncertainly, then back at Dad. “Hang on. Do you mean Mum?”

Dad brushed Sadie’s hair behind her ear, and she was so surprised, she didn’t even push him away.

I felt like the rain had frozen me solid. The truth of Mum’s **** was a promise I made to never tell my siblings.

“You’re telling us she died here,” Carter said. “At Cleopatra’s Needle? What happened?”

He lowered his head.

“Dad!” Sadie protested. “I go past this every day, and you mean to say—all this time—and I didn’t even know?”

"Do you three still have your amulet?”

Our hands went to her necks. When we were little, right before Sadie went to live with our grandparents, Dad had given us three Egyptian amulets. Mine was Nephthys, and it was from Ancient Egyptian times.

http://archaeologicalmuseum.jhu.edu/wp-content/uploads/2015/04/3643.gif

Carter's was the Eye of Horus and Sadie's was Isis.

A sudden flash illuminated the embankment. I turned, half blind, and just for a moment I glimpsed two figures: a tall pale man with a forked beard and wearing cream-colored robes, and a coppery-skinned girl in dark blue robes and a headscarf—the kind of clothes I'm wearing. They were just standing there side by side, not twenty feet away, watching us. Then the light faded. The figures melted into a fuzzy afterimage. When my eyes readjusted to the darkness, they were gone.

“Um...” Sadie said nervously. “Did you just see that?”

“Get in the cab,” I said, pushing us toward the curb.

From that point on, my dad and I clammed up.

“This isn’t the place to talk,” he said, glancing behind us. He’d promised the cabbie an extra ten pounds if he got us to the museum in under five minutes, and the cabbie was doing his best.

“Dad,” Carter tried, “those people at the river—”

“And the other bloke, Amos,” Sadie said. “Are they Egyptian police or something?”

“Look, both of you,” Dad said, “I’m going to need your help tonight. I know it’s hard, but you have to be patient. I’ll explain everything, I promise, after we get to the museum. I’m going to make everything right again.”

“What do you mean?” Sadie insisted. “Make what right?”

Dad’s expression was more than sad. It was almost guilty. With a chill, I knew it was about mum. The cabbie swerved onto Great Russell Street and screeched to a halt in front of the museum’s main gates.

“Just follow my lead,” Dad told us. “When we meet the curator, act normal.”

We climbed out of the cab. I got our luggage while Dad paid the driver with a big wad of cash. Then he did something strange. He threw a handful of small objects into the backseat—they looked like stones, but it was too dark for me to be sure. “Keep driving,” he told the cabbie. “Take us to Chelsea.”

Carter blinked. “Dad—”

“London cabs don’t stay empty very long,” he said matter-of-factly. “Come along, kids.”

He marched off through the wrought iron gates. For a second, Sadie and Carter hesitated.

“Carter, what is going on?”

He shook his head. “I’m not sure I want to know.”

“Well, stay out here in the cold if you want, but I’m not leaving without an explanation.” She turned and marched after our dad.

The museum was closed and completely dark, but the curator and two security guards were waiting for us on the front steps.

“Dr. Kane!” The curator was a greasy little dude in a cheap suit. I’d seen mummies with more hair and better teeth. He shook my dad’s hand like he was meeting a rock star. “Your last paper on Imhotep—brilliant! I don’t know how you translated those spells!”

“Im-ho-who?” Sadie muttered to Carter.

“Imhotep,” he said. “High priest, architect. Some say he was a magician. Designed the first step pyramid. You know.”

“Don’t know,” Sadie said. “Don’t care. But thanks.”

Dad expressed his gratitude to the curator for hosting us on a holiday. Then he put his hand on my shoulder. “Dr. Martin, I’d like you to meet Carter, Sadie and Tyler.”

“Ah! Your son, obviously, —” The curator looked hesitantly at Sadie and I. “And these two?”

“My daughter, and other son.” Dad said.

Dr. Martin’s stare went temporarily blank. Doesn’t matter how open-minded or polite people think they are, there’s always that moment of confusion that flashes across their faces when they realize Carter, Sadie and I are family. I hate it, even though this is the first time in years it has happened.

The curator regained his smile. “Yes, yes, of course. Right this way, Dr. Kane. We’re very honored!”

The security guards locked the doors behind us. They took our luggage, then one of them reached for my duffle bag.

“Ah, no,” I said with a tight smile. “I’ll keep this one.”

The guards stayed in the foyer as we followed the curator into the Great Court. It was ominous at night. Dim light from the glass-domed ceiling cast crosshatched shadows across the walls like a giant spiderweb. Our footsteps clicked on the white marble floor.

“So,” Dad said, “the stone.”

“Yes!” the curator said. “Though I can’t imagine what new information you could glean from it. It’s been studied to ****—our most famous artifact, of course.”

“Of course,” Dad said. “But you may be surprised.”

“What’s he on about now?” Sadie whispered to Carter.

He didn’t answer. I had a sneaking suspicion what stone they were talking about, but I'm sure he couldn’t figure out why Dad would drag us out on Christmas Eve to see it.

We turned left into the Egyptian wing. The walls were lined with massive statues of the pharaohs and gods, but my dad bypassed them all and went straight for the main attraction in the middle of the room.

“Beautiful,” my father murmured. “And it’s not a replica?”

“No, no,” the curator promised. “We don’t always keep the actual stone on display, but for you—this is quite real.”

We were staring at a slab of dark gray rock about three feet tall and two feet wide. It sat on a pedestal, encased in a glass box. The flat surface of the stone was chiseled with three distinct bands of writing. The top part was Ancient Egyptian picture writing: hieroglyphics. The middle section...I had to rack my brain to remember what Amos called it: Demotic, a kind of writing from the period when the Greeks controlled Egypt and a lot of Greek words got mixed into Egyptian. The last lines were in Greek.

“The Rosetta Stone,” I said.

“Isn’t that a computer program?” Sadie asked.

Carter and I wanted to tell her how stupid she was, but the curator cut me off with a nervous laugh. “Young lady, the Rosetta Stone was the key to deciphering hieroglyphics! It was discovered by Napoleon’s army in 1799 and—”

“Oh, right,” Sadie said. “I remember now.”

I knew she was just saying that to shut him up, but my dad wouldn’t let it go.

“Sadie,” he said, “until this stone was discovered, regular mortals...er, I mean, no one had been able to read hieroglyphics for centuries. The written language of Egypt had been completely forgotten. Then an Englishman named Thomas Young proved that the Rosetta Stone’s three languages all conveyed the same message. A Frenchman named Champollion took up the work and cracked the code of hieroglyphics.”

Sadie chewed her gum, unimpressed. “What’s it say, then?”

Dad shrugged. “Nothing important. It’s basically a thank-you letter from some priests to King Ptolemy V. When it was first carved, the stone was no big deal. But over the centuries...over the centuries it has become a powerful symbol. Perhaps the most important connection between Ancient Egypt and the modern world. I was a fool not to realize its potential sooner.”

He’d lost her, Carter and apparently the curator too.

“Dr. Kane?” he asked. “Are you quite all right?”

Dad breathed deeply. “My apologies, Dr. Martin. I was just...thinking aloud. If I could have the glass removed? And if you could bring me the papers I asked for from your archives.”

Dr. Martin nodded. He pressed a code into a small remote control, and the front of the glass box clicked open.

“It will take a few minutes to retrieve the notes,” Dr. Martin said. “For anyone else, I would hesitate to grant unguarded access to the stone, as you’ve requested. I trust you’ll be careful.”

He glanced at Sadie and Carter like they were troublemakers.

“We’ll be careful,” Dad promised.

As soon as Dr. Martin’s steps receded, Dad turned to us with a frantic look in his eyes. “Kids, this is very important. You have to stay out of this room.”

He slipped his workbag off his shoulder and unzipped it just enough to pull out a bike chain and padlock. “Follow Dr. Martin. You’ll find his office at the end of the Great Court on the left. There’s only one entrance. Once he’s inside, wrap this around the door handles and lock it tight. We need to delay him.”

“You want us to lock him in?” Sadie asked, suddenly interested. “Brilliant!”

“Dad,” Carter said, “what’s going on?”

“We don’t have time for explanations,” he said. “This will be our only chance. They’re coming.”

“Who’s coming?” Sadie asked.

He took Sadie by the shoulders. “Sweetheart, I love you. And I’m sorry...I’m sorry for many things, but there’s no time now. If this works, I promise I’ll make everything better for all of us. Carter, you’re my brave man. You have to trust me. Remember, lock up Dr. Martin. Then stay out of this room!”

Chaining the curator’s door was easy. But as soon as we’d finished, we looked back the way we’d come and saw blue light streaming from the Egyptian gallery, as if our dad had installed a giant glowing aquarium.

"Shite...so he's going through on it. Both of you need to know something, magic is real. And it _can _kill you, so stay out here."

Sadie locked eyes with me. “Honestly, do you have any idea what he’s up to?”

“Some” I said

She then looked at Carter “He’s been acting strange lately. Thinking a lot about Mom. He keeps her picture...”

I didn’t want to say more. Fortunately Sadie and Carter nodded like they understood.

I wanted to run, but just then a tremor shook the floor.

Startled, Sadie grabbed Carter's arm. “He told us to stay put. I suppose you’re going to follow that order too?”

Actually, that order was sounding pretty good to Carter, but Sadie and I sprinted down the hall, and after a moment’s hesitation, he ran after us.

When we reached the entrance of the Egyptian gallery, we stopped dead in our tracks. Our dad stood in front of the Rosetta Stone with his back to us. A blue circle glowed on the floor around him, as if someone had switched on hidden neon tubes in the floor.

My dad had thrown off his overcoat. His workbag lay open at his feet, revealing a wooden box about two feet long, painted with Egyptian images.

“What’s he holding?” Sadie whispered to me. “Is that a boomerang?”

"Wand." I corrected her "But more importantly he will likely kill us."

“Open,” Sadie murmured. I stared at her, because it sounded like she had just translated the word, but that was impossible. No one can instantly translates Egyptian hieroglyphics without practice.

Dad raised his arms. He chanted: “Wo-seer, i-ei.” And two more hieroglyphic symbols burned blue against the surface of the Rosetta Stone.

As stunned as I was, I recognized the first symbol. It was the name of the Egyptian god of the dead.

“Wo-seer,” I whispered. I’ve rarely heard it pronounced that way, but I knew what it meant. “Osiris.”

“Osiris, come,” I said. My eyes widened. “No!” I shouted. “Dad, no!”

Our father turned in surprise. He started to say, “Children—” but it was too late. The ground rumbled. The blue light turned to searing white, and the Rosetta Stone exploded.

When I regained consciousness, the first thing I heard was laughter—horrible, gleeful laughter mixed with the blare of the museum’s security alarms.

I felt like I’d just been run over by a tractor. I sat up, dazed, and spat a piece of Rosetta Stone out of my mouth. The gallery was in ruins. Waves of fire rippled in pools along the floor. Giant statues had toppled. Sarcophagi had been knocked off their pedestals. Pieces of the Rosetta Stone had exploded outward with such **** that they’d embedded themselves in the columns, the walls, the other exhibits.

Gods no!

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