Horus and the Curse of Everlasting Regret Read Online Free PDF Page A

know, as did every single person who read about the kidnapping. What makes you think you could do something they can’t?”
    The boy bent down to pick up a canvas knapsack from the floor. He seemed less afraid now. He had freckles and a small nose. Tunie thought his face was friendly.
    “I’m…” The boy’s cheeks went pink. “I’m pretty smart, I guess. I mean at problem solving, particularly. And building things.”
    “Uh-huh,” Tunie said, doubtful.
    “Look, I’ll show you,” Peter said. He opened his knapsack and took out a small mechanical robot. He patted the top of the robot, and it made a sweet sound like a music box note.
    Perch narrowed his eyes at the strange creature. Tunie raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to use your toy?”
    Realizing the robot wasn’t alive, Perch made a soft snickering sound.
    “I built this. His name is WindUp. Say hi, WindUp,” Peter said. He turned a key on WindUp’s back. The robot waved jerkily, then took a bow.
    Tunie had to smile. “That’s cute as a bug’s ear. You really made him?”
    “I sure did. I found—”
    A bang sounded from an adjacent room. Tunie startled and, turning, saw that the door on the far wall was ajar.
    She eyed the door. “That’s the employee kitchen, but George never uses it, not ever.”
    Tunie and Peter exchanged a fearful glance. Peter stuffed WindUp back into his bag, and together they tiptoed past a sarcophagus and a glass display case of handmade bowls until they reached the open door. Tunie felt that humming sensation again, more forcefully than before.
    They peered into the kitchen. There, rifling through the cupboards, was a diminutive figure, bound head to toe in filthy bandages. It moved stiffly, one wrapped hand holding a mug with a picture of a red cardinal on it.
    The thing turned its bandaged face toward them. Suddenly Tunie recognized it. She’d seen the child’s corpse lying still in its sarcophagus many times. A strip of linen, resting where its eyebrows might have been, lifted. Beneath gleamed two enormous golden eyes.
    “Hullo!” the mummy said delightedly. Two linen strips smiled, as if they were lips. He gestured to the kettle.
    “Tea?”
    Tunie and Peter and Perch screamed.

The children kept shrieking with terror as the mummy took a sip from his mug. Amber liquid dripped through his partially exposed rib cage and down a few loose bandages into puddles on the floor.
    “I’m parched,” said the mummy in a scratchy voice.
    Suddenly they heard a man’s voice and running footsteps.
    Tunie managed to stop screaming and turned, expecting to see George looking goofy in his oversized uniform. Instead, bald Mr. Narfgau, the museum manager, stood in the doorway, glaring.
    “You again!” he said, narrowing his eyes at Tunie. “What did I tell you? Now you’re sneaking your friends in here?” He waved a hand at Peter. He didn’t even glance at the mummy. The mummy edged closer and closer. Tunie stood still, petrified.
    Mr. Narfgau was turning a shade of strawberry. He raised his voice. “I knew that night watchman was up to something! He was trying to keep me upstairs—he knew you were down here, didn’t he?”
    “Sir,” said Peter. “We saw this mummy and…”
    He stopped. The mummy had wiggled in between Tunie and Peter, slinging one bony arm around each of their shoulders. Tunie was too terrified to move. Mr. Narfgau, who had been glaring at the two of them, stopped and glanced around the kitchen, confused. He touched his thick mustache and then took a handkerchief out of his breast pocket to wipe his shiny scalp.
    “Now, what was I doing down here?” he muttered to himself.
    “I can explain—” Tunie said, but the mummy interrupted.
    “Shhh,” he said. His breath smelled like smoky incense. Tunie hushed.
    Mr. Narfgau sighed. He continued to look puzzled, but when he spoke, he sounded calmer.
    “Hmm. I must have been getting some water for myself and that nice George. That’s it,” he said.