Blood Lines

Sergeant Graham to finish with those staff members he'd taken off to the workroom. He had a feeling the press were about to get a statement they wouldn't be able to print.
    A number of the reporters milling about in the security lobby recognized the detective as a museum guard let him through the door.
    'Oh, great," muttered one. "It's homicide's Mr. Congeniality."
    Questions flew thick and fast. Celluci waited, glaring the pack into silence. When the noise subsided enough so that he could be heard, he cleared his throat and began, his tone making his opinion of his audience plain. "In the early hours of this morning, a male Caucasian was found dead of causes unknown in the Department of Egyptology's workroom.
    Obviously we suspect foul play; I wouldn't be here if we didn't. You want anything else, you'll have to wait for it."
    'What about the mummy?" A reporter near the front of the crowd shoved a microphone forward. "We heard there was talk of a mummy being involved."
    Yes, what about the mummy? Although still uneasy about its accuracy, Celluci repeated the party line. "There never was a mummy, only an empty coffin being studied by the Department of Egyptology."
    'Is there any possibility that the coffin could have caused both the recent deaths in the museum?"
    'And how would it do that?" Celluci asked dryly. "Fall on them?"
    'What about some kind of an ancient curse?"
    Ancient Curse Kills Two . He could see the headlines now. "Don't be an asshole."
    The reporter snatched the microphone to safety just in time and, smiling pleasantly, asked, "Can I quote you on that, Detective?"

    Celluci's smile was just as sincere. "You can tattoo it on your chest."
    Back upstairs, he found Dr. Shane and his partner standing just outside Dr. Rax's office.
    Dave turned as he came in. "The doctor's got something for us, Mike."
    Dr. Shane pushed her hair back off her face and rubbed at her forehead. "It might not be anything…" She looked over at Celluci, who nodded reassuringly, and went on. "It's just that Elias always kept a suit in his office, for board meetings and official business. He won't wear…" She paused, closed her eyes briefly, then continued. " Wouldn ' t wear one any longer than he had to. Anyway, when I left yesterday evening, his gray suit, a white shirt, and a burgundy silk tie were all hanging on the door. They're gone."
    The two detectives exchanged identical looks. Celluci spoke first. "What about extra shoes?"
    'No, he used to say that anywhere you couldn't get to in a pair of loafers wasn't worth going to in the first place." Her lower lip began to tremble but with a visible effort she maintained control. "Damn, but I'm really going to miss him."
    'If you want to go home now, Dr. Shane…?"
    'Thanks, but I think I'd rather be doing something useful. If you don't need me any longer, I'll go help with the inventory." Head high, she walked across the room, paused at the door, and said, "When you catch the son of a bitch who did this, I hope you rip out his living heart and feed it to the crocodiles."
    'We don't, uh, do that anymore, Doctor."
    'Pity."
    When they were alone, Dave sighed deeply and perched on a corner of the closest desk. "The lab'll have to go over that office. This case is getting weirder all the time." He tugged at his beard. "It's beginning to look like Dr. Rax interrupted a naked intruder. What kind of a nut case wanders around a museum starkers?"
    Deep in thought, Celluci ignored him. He was remembering a pentagram and the human-seeming creature it had contained; remembering a man who stripped and changed and went for his throat with a wolf's fangs in a wolf's body; remembering Henry Fitzroy who wasn't human now even if he had been once. Remembering that things weren't always as they seemed.
    Wondering what kind of a creature would emerge after centuries spent in darkness, locked immobile inside a box.
    Except, there never had been a mummy.
    He had twisted the mind of the guard so that she'd opened the outer door for him and wished him a good morning without ever wondering why an elderly man in an ill-fitting suit was leaving the museum hours before it opened. Once outside, he had turned, smiled, and brushed away her memory of the entire incident. Then he had crossed the street and lowered himself onto a bench, resting and rejoicing in the amount of space around him and his ability to move; waiting until the memories he absorbed told him it was time.
    The first ka he had devoured had served