Some Pig and a Mummy Dig Page 2

  I nodded. “I am but I don’t know anything about my late father’s work. My mother might know something, but we’ve never discussed what my father was working on when he died.”

  When I was young, a vampire attacked me. My father killed the creature, but the act took a lot out of him. He was able to heal me, but using up all that power meant he couldn’t heal himself, so he died.

  Murray presented the ankh to Thorne. “Take a look at these markings.”

  Thorne ran his finger over a picture of a man with his mouth to a woman’s neck. “That’s obviously a vampire,” he murmured.

  Excitement filled Murray’s eyes. “And this one. Do you see it?”

  Thorne squinted. “It appears to be a witch casting a spell on the man. This is before he’s a vampire.”

  Murry nodded enthusiastically. “Do you see what it’s suggesting?”

  Mayor Dixon flicked her hand. “That vampires and witches were friends back in ancient Egypt? Preposterous.”

  I took a closer look at the ankh, trying to figure out where the story began. I traced a finger over the lines that were so deep they looked to have been etched only yesterday.

  “That’s not what it’s saying.” I pointed to the picture. “The witch and man are together, here. Then the witch casts a spell that changes the man, and then the next thing we see is the man drinking a woman’s blood.”

  Thorne took a step back. “This ankh suggests that witches created vampires.”

  Tully nodded his head eagerly. “That’s what I told the professor.”

  Murray grinned. “That’s why I wanted you both here. Thorne, I know you come from a powerful vampire family. Is there anything about this ankh that looks familiar to you?”

  Thorne shook his head. “No. Nothing about it.”

  Murray’s smile faded. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  Murray turned to me. “What about you, Charming? Do you think this might mean something to your mother? I’m very interested in what your father was working on.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. But you’re welcome to show her. I’m sure she’ll be interested in talking to you.”

  “That would be delightful, don’t you think, Tully?” Murray said.

  The assistant nodded eagerly. Brown curls tumbled into his eyes. “We’d love to speak with her.”

  I glanced at the mummy. “So this is Ramses the Twelfth?”

  Murray slapped the edge of the sarcophagus. “This is him, all right. Ramses, though never documented, I believe was an ancient wizard, as you can see by this ankh.”

  The mayor scoffed. “How does that prove anything? It was only buried with him.”

  “Oh, but my good mayor,” Murray reminded, “remember when we said the pyramid itself was nearly impossible to find? This was the first time we’d ever encountered magic on that level.”

  “It holds with our theory that Ramses himself was a wizard,” Tully said. “The pharaoh obviously instructed his wizards on how to conceal such a structure. Plus, he’s holding the ankh as if this was his story.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “You’re saying it’s possible that Ramses knew how the first vampire was created?”

  Murray pointed out certain pictures on the ankh. “That witch, though it looks like a woman, could also be a man. It’s almost impossible to tell the gender.”

  Thorne took a step forward. “So you’re saying more than Ramses could have been witness to the first vampire created. You’re saying he may have created the first vampire.”

  “Precisely,” Murray said.

  “Preposterous,” the mayor said. “Vampires just are. They weren’t created by a wizard.”

  “Possible,” Murray said, “but possibly not. That’s why I needed to show these pictures to others who may have knowledge.”

  I glanced at the wrapped mummy and wondered if inside that body there truly lay the secrets of the first vampire. Had Ramses known something about it?

  Had my father?

  The only way to know would be to ask my mother. She’d told me before we could discuss my father’s work, but how much did she remember?

  Would she be willing to share with a stranger?

  “I’ll ask Mama and maybe we can set up a meeting between the two of y’all.”

  Murray thanked me and laid the ankh back on top of the mummy. “That would be most wonderful. Here’s my card. Call me anytime. Day or night.”

  The professor glanced at Thorne as if waiting to hear that the vampire would offer up his family’s help.

  Thorne simply nodded. “Thank you for showing us this. It’s been eye-opening.”

  Murray’s mouth tightened. “If you think anyone in your clan would be able to help with this mystery, I’d love to speak with them.”

  “I’ll let you know,” Thorne replied.

  He placed a hand on my back. Thorne was ready to leave and was about to steer me out of the room.

  “Shall I escort you out?” Murray said.

  “That would be great,” I said.

  Within a few minutes we’d left the pyramid and were back out in the open air.

  “Well, I’d just like to announce that didn’t go the way I expected,” the mayor said.

  I had to hold back a giggle. “You mean, he didn’t ask to be matched?”

  “Yes,” she sniffed. “I thought for sure he’d want to be matched by our very own esteemed town matchmaker.”

  “There’s always tomorrow,” I said.

  The mayor hiked a shoulder to her ear. “Come, India. We have work to do making sure the PR team has everything they need to advertise the pyramid and dig. Let’s go.”

  I wiggled my fingers to say goodbye to India, but the mayor dragged her off before India had a chance to respond.

  “Sometimes I feel for that woman,” Thorne said.

  “Who? India?”

  He scrubbed his fingers down his jaw. “No, the mayor. She’s so wound up. Too much on her mind. It’s not healthy.”

  I stifled a laugh. “I don’t feel for her at all.”

  He cocked a quizzical brow at me. “Why’s that?”

  “Because she does it to herself. She wants Witch’s Forge to be a success. If that means she burns the midnight oil, then that’s how it goes.”

  Thorne smirked. “Speaking of burning the midnight oil…it’s getting late. I should get you home.”

  I glanced around at the food vendors who’d latched on to the spectacle of the pyramid. “Mmm, how about a funnel cake first?”

  A question formed on Thorne’s face. “Funnel cake?”

  My eyes widened in surprise. I grabbed his sleeve. “Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of funnel cake? It’s only served at every pumpkin patch, food fair and Christmas festival in the South.”

  “Okay, I’ve never heard of it.”

  “Which means you’re lying.”

  “I would never lie.”

  I tipped my chin up at him. “If you had to, you would.”

  Thorne stiffened. “Why don’t we get you some funnel cake?”

  “Oh no, not just for me, but for you, too. You’re gonna love it.”

  He eyed me skeptically. “I doubt that.”

  “Okay, so you might be right. But you have to try at least one taste.”

  He nodded. “Just one.”

  “Great.” I dragged him to the other side of the street where a vendor was serving the fried confection. “One, please.”

  The attendee plated a mazelike looking cake, topped it with powdered sugar and handed it over. Thorne paid while I grabbed a handful of paper napkins. We moved to a bench to sit and eat.

  “So,” I said, licking powdered sugar from my fingers, “what do you think?”

  Thorne grimaced. “It’s sweet.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Of course it is. It has powdered sugar on top.”

  He brushed his hands on a napkin and nodded toward the plate. “I think you’re welcome to as much as you can possibly eat.”

  I winked at him. “I like having your company. You keep me fed.”

  Thorne laughed. He glanced back at me, his eyes darkening. “And I like having you for company.”

  Heat flamed my cheeks. Energy buzzed around us. This conversation had suddenly gotten very heavy and filled with tension.

  “So,” I said, reaching to find anything else to talk about other than the intensity between us, “what’d you think about that ankh?”

  He grunted.

  “Wow,” I said sarcastically, “what an answer. Had you ever seen anything like that before?”

  “I plead the fifth.”

  Meaning he didn’t want to say.

  I squinted at him, trying to figure out what he was hiding. “So now I’m intrigued. Had you ever seen those inscriptions?”

  Thorne leveled his gaze on me. His hard stare made my heart clench and my breath catch in the back of my throat.

  “If you want me to be honest—”

  “Always,” I replied quickly.

  He scowled. “Then yes, I’ve seen it before.”

  So the ankh wasn’t quite the discovery that the good professor thought it was. “Where?”

  Thorne glanced away, staring at the pyramid that loomed over Witch’s Forge. “Once, a long time ago.”

  Was he being purposefully cryptic? I nudged his elbow playfully. “Where was that?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Leopold. He had the same hieroglyphics in his office.”

  I could barely say the name. “Leopold?”

  Thorne jerked his head in a nod. “My father.”

  Chapter 3

  Thorne wouldn’t say much after that, not about Leopold or the hieroglyphics. The subject was sensitive, given that Leopold had banished Thorne to Witch’s Forge for bas
ically being a decent person.

  But Thorne did walk me to my front porch. “Sorry, not sorry you didn’t like the funnel cake,” I said.

  He chuckled. “Because it left more for you?”

  “How’d you guess?”

  He lightly pinched my chin. “Because you are that transparent.”

  I pretended to bristle. “As if that’s a nice thing to say.”

  He leaned in and kissed my lips. “I think it is,” he murmured. “Compared to how we used to talk to each other.”

  I laughed. “I suppose that’s true.”

  From behind me, the porch popped as boards came together and rose, creating a bench.

  I rolled my eyes. “This house certainly has a mind of its own.”

  Which was true. The house we lived in was magical and often forewarned of a visitor’s arrival by making the door bigger or elongating the dining room table.

  Now apparently the house wanted Thorne and I to get comfortable on the porch.

  “Well at least the house has good intentions,” I remarked.

  Thorne kissed me again, and a jolt of energy snaked all the way to my stomach. My core tightened and my bones turned to liquid as he held me.

  Seriously. I could’ve melted into a puddle of goo.

  When we parted, Thorne sighed. “Talk to you tomorrow?”

  I beamed; there was no point in hiding my pleasure. “That sounds good.”

  Thorne left and I went inside, readying for bed.

  The next morning my mother, Glinda Calhoun, slowly swirled eggs atop the stove. “Is the pyramid worth seeing? I was debating it but haven’t decided if I actually want to stand in line.”

  I poured myself a cup of coffee and sat at the kitchen table. “Funny you should ask, because the head archaeologist, a Dr. Murray Breshears, seems to think you can help him.”

  Mama arched a perfectly waxed eyebrow. “Me? What do I know about mummies?”

  “Not you, Dad.”

  Mama paused.

  “He studied witch history, right? Ancient Egypt was his specialty.”

  Mama slowly nodded. “That’s right.”

  “Well, this professor seems to think—”

  “Pig, what is going on with you?”

  Suddenly a squealing pig raced into the kitchen followed by my great-aunt Rose, who ran with hands out as if to pick Pig up.

  Pig scurried up and hid behind my chair. Her little legs shook as if she was scared.

  I pinned my focus on Rose. “What’s going on?”

  Rose fisted her hands to her hips. Her white curls were frizzed out, and to be honest, Rose looked at the end of her rope. “Pig knows it’s time to take her bath; that’s what’s going on.”

  “Let me guess, she doesn’t want to do it.”

  Mama nodded primly at Pig. “Whatever gave you that impression? Was it her quaking legs or the fact that she’s hiding from Rose?”

  I smirked. “Both,” I said before turning my attention back to Rose. “Why does she need a bath?”

  Rose pushed up her sleeves. “Because it’s national Give Your Pig a Bath day.”

  Pig snorted.

  Laughter bubbled from my throat. Rose glared at me. “I’m glad you think it’s so funny, Charming, but that pig is supposed to have a bath. It’s on the Witch Calendar, which makes it official.”

  I glanced down into Pig’s big brown eyes. Pig gazed at me with a pleading expression on her face. Never in my life had I seen Pig look so sad and forlorn.

  “Is there something bad that happens if she doesn’t have a bath?” I said.

  “The world will explode,” Mama said sarcastically.

  Rose frowned at her. “You know that isn’t what happens. It’s just what needs to be done. Come, Pig.”

  Pig oinked and shoved herself between my feet. I bent down and stroked her head. “Tell you what, Rose. I’ll take Pig with me for now.”

  Rose’s eyes widened. “But Pig—”

  I raised my hand to silence her. “I don’t think Pig wants to take a bath right now. Let’s ixnay on the igpay athbay.”

  Rose glared at me. “What?”

  “For goodness’ sake, stop talking about it,” Mama said.

  A hurt expression crossed Rose’s face. She fluffed her hair and sniffed. “Well, if that’s the way y’all feel about it, then I guess that’s how it is.”

  I nodded. “Yep. That’s how it is.”

  Rose took a step back and spoke to Pig. “Well, that’s fine if you don’t want to go with me. I don’t care. You can be with Charming, but I guarantee she won’t feed you any chocolate.”

  “You got that right,” I murmured. “Come on, Pig. We’ve got a full day ahead of us.” I grabbed my purse and turned to Mama. “Do you think there’s any way you could find out what Dad was working on before he died?”

  Mama plated the eggs she’d been cooking. “I’ll see what I can dig up. I’m sure there’s an old chest with his work in it somewhere.”

  I kissed her soft cheek. “Thank you.”

  I moved to kiss Rose, but she grabbed a newspaper and opened it in my face, blocking me from her.

  I tapped down the top. “Somebody jealous their pet wants to hang out with me?” I teased.

  “I am not jealous,” Rose said smartly. “For your information, I’m only abiding by what the Witch Calendar says, and it says Pig needs to bathe. But go ahead and don’t do what the calendar says.”

  “It’s only a suggestion, Rose.”

  Rose sniffed. “One time I didn’t follow its suggestion to give my cat a meal of eggs and tuna. Do you know what happened?”

  “Your cat growled very loudly at you?”

  “No. For your information that cat ended up pregnant with a litter of kittens.”

  I did not see a correlation. “You’re saying if you don’t bathe Pig, she’ll end up pregnant.”

  “No, Charming.” Rose dropped the newspaper in frustration. “I’m saying we won’t know what’s going to happen until it’s too late. But by all means, tempt fate.”

  I smacked my lips. “Pretty sure I’m okay with tempting fate on this one.”

  Mama quirked a brow. “I don’t know, Charming. Are you prepared to house a bunch of little piglets?”

  “Is Pig going to be impregnated through immaculate conception?” I snorted. “Because I think otherwise we’re going to be okay. Look around. There are no male pigs. Are they called bulls?”

  “Boars,” Rose corrected. She wagged a finger at me. “And just because you don’t see one now doesn’t mean there isn’t one hiding in the wings.”

  “Let’s go, Pig,” I repeated to the swine. “And we’ll try not to bathe or impregnate you. How does that sound?”

  Pig pranced into the hall. I followed. “Bye, y’all. See you later.”

  Mama said goodbye, but Rose didn’t answer. I left the house with Pig.

  Outside I pulled a file folder from my purse and flipped through it. “Okay, Pig. We have a full day of matchmaking ahead of us. First, we’re going to head into Fire Town and then after that to Water Town to see if we can get a bit of a spinster and a gruff wizard together. Not sure if it’s going to work, but the least we can do is try.”

  “Charming! Charming, is that you?”

  I dragged my gaze from the file and spied Kimberly Ferguson across the street, smiling and waving.

  “Stay right there,” she called. “I’ll be over in a minute.”

  Kimberly Ferguson was, in my humble opinion, Witch’s Forge’s most eager bachelorette. By eager, I mean super eager. Like if there was an Olympic sport for wanting to find a man, Kimberly would have won a gold medal in it.

  “Keep calm, Pig,” I whispered. “No sudden moves. She might think you’re her new bachelor.”

  Pig snorted up at me. It sounded like a question, so I answered.

  “I’m kidding. She’s not that bad.”

  A car passed down the street, and Kimberly crossed after it cleared. “Charming, I’m so glad to see you.”

  I smiled. “Good to see you, too.”

  “Listen, I know that in the past you’ve seen my soul mate as coming from the train and being all tall, dark and handsome and stuff.”

  That was true. Ages ago Kimberly practically begged me to touch her arm to see her soul mate. I did it and saw the man she described, though I couldn’t quite make out his features.

  Thing was, from that day forward Kimberly spent most days at the train station, scouring the arriving passengers for any man that fit the description I’d given.