Long Hot Summoning

The man standing on the porch was a little shorter than Dean’s six feet. His hair and eyebrows had been sun-bleached to the color of straw. Sunburn lent a painful-looking ruddiness to his complexion, and the end of his nose was peeling. Bulky muscle making him appear stocky, he wore a tan short-sleeved shirt with the top three buttons undone, matching shorts—with all buttons safely fastened—and hiking boots. A number of leather pouches hung from his broad leather belt and both his arms were covered in an interesting patchwork of scars.

“All right, where is it?”

Not Australian in spite of appearances; the accent was Canadian heartland.

“Where is what, then?”

“The mummy!” His pause carried the expectation of a musical emphasis, as though his life came with its own soundtrack that only he could hear. “I know it’s here,” he continued when Dean didn’t immediately respond. “I tracked Dr. Rebik’s car to your parking lot!”

That didn’t sound good. Unwilling to give the benefit of the doubt to someone who banged on doors at six in the morning, Dean barely covered a yawn and decided to play dumb. “Why?”

“Because I’m hunting the mummy!”

“Why?” Maybe if he kept repeating himself, he’d get an answer.

“It’s a mummy!”

Okay. New track. “So what’s Dr. Rebik’s mother done to you, then?”

“Not mother. Mummy!” Veins bulging on his neck, mouth open to continue his protest, he paused and glanced down. “Is that cat laughing?”

Dean shoved Austin with the side of one bare foot. “Hairball.”

“Right. Look, my name’s Lance Benedict…”

This time both men looked down.

“Really big hairball.” Dean shot Austin a warning frown.

“Right.” Lance’s broad smile showed perfect teeth. “Anyway, I realize this must all seem extraordinary to you, an ordinary kind of a guy, living an ordinary kind of life…”

Dean bent down and turned Austin around to face the kitchen. “You should be having a drink of water to take care of that hairball.” One hand against the cat’s back legs, he shoved. If looks could maim, he’d have collapsed bleeding on the hardwood.

The angle of his tail promising later retribution, Austin stalked off down the hall.

When Dean straightened, Lance sighed. “Everything will make perfect sense the moment I explain it!”

Sighing and exclaiming simultaneously was quite the trick, Dean had to admit.

“Evil is afoot!”

“It’s not in Dr. Rebik’s car, then?”

“Not on foot! Afoot!” Another, more dramatic sigh. “Can I come in? Your neighbors must not discover the darkness that hides in the forgotten corners of their little worlds!”

Curtains twitched in a second-floor window across the street and Dean realized he was standing in the doorway wearing only his jeans and his glasses. Professor Marnara had been slipping salacious haiku in the mailbox for a couple of months now and she really didn’t need more inspiration. “Yeah. Sure. Come in.” He stepped back and closed the door firmly behind the mummy hunter. “All right, then, explain.”

“You’re Irish, aren’t you? I can tell from your accent; it’s a skill I have! County Cork, by way of Dublin.”

“Newfoundland. Harbor Street, St. John’s, by way of Herring Neck.”

“Right. Sixteenth-century Irish derivative. Corrupted, of course.”

Dean’s lip curled. Good manners only extended so far. “The explanation?”

“Right.” Lance leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Dr. Rebik has been vilely kidnapped by a woman who died almost five thousand years ago! Late one night in his lab, the unfortunate doctor broke the spell confining her wretched, evil form to her sarcophagus. She rose and took over his mind, feeding off his life force to reduce the gruesome effects of centuries of decay. When I discovered what she’d done, I fought valiantly to stop her, but her control over Dr. Rebik was so strong he attacked me and left me for dead!”

“And you got messed up in this because…?”

“Because I’m Dr. Rebik’s grad student and I intend to save him! I am quite possibly the only person now alive who knows how to stop the foul fiend!” His hands curled into fists as he rocked forward on the balls of his feet. “Just tell me what room that pustulant monstrosity is in!”

“Meryat?”

“That’s her!”

Mummies. Doctors. Grad students. Dean weighed what he knew and came to a decision. “Third floor. Room six. You should take the elevator, it’ll be faster.” He led Lance to the brass gates, folded them open, and waved the other man inside. “Just pull that lever over to the three. I’ll wait in the lobby in case she makes a run for the front door.”

“Good man!” Legs braced, back straight, Lance yanked the lever toward him. The elevator began to rise.

“Was that nice?” Austin asked as the dial showed the elevator just passing the second floor.

Dean shrugged. “Before he left, Augustus Smythe fixed it so that the third floor always opens to the beach. We haven’t seen a giant not-quite-squid in months and the fire sand is all posted. There’s food and water in the cabana. Lance’ll do some exploring, he’ll get a bit more sunburn, maybe he’ll go swimming. He’s safer there than back out on the street.”