Egyptian Curse

“Calm down, fluffpot,” Isis said, bending to stroke her pet. “He can’t exactly woof me to death!” The princess laughed, but froze when she stood up. Now she understood what Cleo had been trying to tell her.

Looming up in front of her was the enormous jackal-headed god of the Underworld himself, Anubis. He was so tall that Isis’s neck hurt to look up at him. He glared down his long snout at her with angry red eyes. There was nothing pet-like about him. Isis gulped.

“‘WHEN YOU’RE READY, YOU OLD DOG?’” Anubis growled. “‘ANUBIDOOBY?’”

Isis gave the god of the Underworld a winning smile and held out five shining amulets. She had been buried with them so she could give them to Anubis to gain entry to the Afterlife. There was a sixth amulet too – a gorgeous green one. But Isis had hidden it under her arm. Green was her favourite colour, and surely Anubis didn’t need all six.

Except the god didn’t seem to agree. His fur bristled in rage. “FIVE? Where is the sixth?” he demanded.

Isis shook her head. “I was only given five,” she said innocently.

To her horror, Anubis grabbed the green amulet from its hiding place. “You little LIAR!” he bellowed.

Thunder started to rumble. The ground shook. Anubis snatched all six amulets and tossed them into the air. With a loud crack and a flash of lightning, they vanished.

“You hid them from me!” he boomed. “Now I have hidden them from you – in the most dangerous places throughout time.”

Isis’s bandaged shoulders drooped in despair. “So I c-c-can’t come into the Afterlife then?”

“Not until you have found each and every one. But first, you will have to get out of this …” Anubis clicked his fingers. A life-sized pottery statue of the goddess Isis, whom Isis was named after, appeared before him.

Isis felt herself being sucked into the statue, along with Cleo. “What are you doing to me?” she yelled.

“You can only escape if somebody breaks the statue,” Anubis said. “So you’ll have plenty of time to think about whether trying to trick the trickster god himself was a good idea!”

The walls of the statue closed around Isis, trapping her and Cleo inside. The sound of Anubis’s evil laughter would be the last sound they would hear for a long, long time …

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“Wakey-wakey, Tom!” called Mum from downstairs. “You don’t want to sleep through your party!”

The smell of frying bacon wafted under Tom’s bedroom door and interrupted his dream about playing football with a gang of pirates on a Caribbean beach.

He opened his eyes and tried to work out why he felt so excited.

“Oh, yeah!” he said, suddenly remembering.

Tom sprang out of bed and shook the bandaged figure sleeping on the floor.

“Wake up, Isis! It’s my birthday!” he said.

“Ow!” Isis cried. With her arms folded over her chest, mummified Princess Isis Amun-Ra sat up stiffly. “That’s not a nice way to be woken up!” she said. There was a creak as she stretched her arms. A cloud of dust swirled round her.

“Sorry! I’m just excited,” Tom said, as he helped Isis to her feet.

“OK, but a girl needs her beauty sleep, you know,” Isis snapped.

Tom chuckled. “You’re an Ancient Egyptian mummy. Even the longest sleep won’t bring you back to life!”

He went over to his dressing gown and slippers, which lay in a heap on the floor. Cleopatra, Isis’s mummified pet cat, was snoozing on top of them.

“Up you get, Cleo!” Tom said. Then, turning to Isis, Tom explained, “Mum always cooks me a special birthday breakfast. I’ll have sausage, bacon, egg, mushrooms and beans waiting for me downstairs.”

“Birthday this! Birthday that! What’s so great about a birthday?” Isis muttered, as she scooped Cleo into her arms.

“Er, it’s only the best day of the year, silly!” Tom cried. Then he looked at his friend and frowned. “Hang on – did you celebrate birthdays in Ancient Egypt?” he asked. “You know – get presents, eat cake, have a party …”

Isis shook her head stiffly. “When I was alive, we used to have a party to celebrate the goddess Isis. And because I’m named after her, everybody made a fuss of me. Now that was fun!”

Tom pulled on his dressing gown and did a little dance. “I was born eleven years ago today! How cool is that?”

“Not very. I was born five thousand years ago,” Isis said smugly.

Ignoring her, Tom thought about the things he had put on his birthday list.

“Hey, I wonder if I’ll get Timeline of Fire? The computer game where you get to fight historical battles.”

“What a silly thing to ask for!” Isis said, sitting on Tom’s bed. “You should have asked for jewels or a gold statue of yourself.”

Tom slid his feet inside his slippers. “The only jewel I want,” he said, “is the sixth amulet, so I don’t have to share a bedroom with you any more, Your Royal Crustiness.”

Isis stood up and shuffled over to Tom’s desk, where his books were lined up. She pushed over a large history encyclopedia at one end and the rest of the books toppled over like dominos.

“Until you met me, Professor Smartypants, all you had for excitement were these dusty books,” she said. “I’ve shown you what it’s like to have some real adventures! You should be kissing my feet.”

Tom looked down at Isis’s flaky yellow toes. “Ugh. No thanks.”

“You broke that statue in your dad’s museum,” she continued. “Me and Cleo had been quite happy there until you came along.”

Tom groaned. “No, you weren’t! And you’re the one who got into trouble with Anubis in the first place. You got yourself banished from the Afterlife until you can find all six amulets. So it’s your fault we’ve both had to risk life and limb—”

“I haven’t risked my life. I’m already dead.Or hadn’t you noticed?” Isis pointed at her bandaged chest. “But the fact you’re still alive, despite facing up to Roman gladiators, medieval knights, raiding Vikings, Greek warriors and crazy pirates, is completely down to me!”

Cleo purred and stretched her legs stiffly.

“See!” Isis said. “Even Cleo agrees, don’t you, my fluffy love?”

Tom started putting his books back on the desk. He knew by now there was no point in arguing with Isis.

“Happy birthday, darling!” Mum said, sliding Tom’s breakfast on to the kitchen table and giving him a kiss.

Dad pushed his glasses up his nose. “I can’t believe you’re eleven! Seems like only yesterday you were in nappies.”

Isis giggled and Tom shot her a warning look.

Dad clapped Tom on the arm. “Ready for your presents?”

“You bet,” Tom said, shovelling a forkful of beans into his mouth and then tearing at the wrapping paper. He pulled out a chunky red-and-green jumper covered in … What is it covered in? Tom thought, staring at the yellow markings on the chest.