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“Evy? Hello, Evy? Evy!”
Evelyn jerked upright with a start, her book’s heavy spine slipping from her fingers and meeting the tabletop with an impressive thwomp. She blinked down at it, smoothing down the ruffled pages out of habit, and yanked her reading glasses off her nose.
“Jonathan, for heaven’s sake!” she huffed, staring up at her brother’s insufferable smirk. “What is it? Can’t you see I’m busy reading?”
“Well,” he replied, stretching out the word until it was practically a drawl, “I can see that you’re very busy staring at a book. Whether or not any actual reading was involved is another matter.”
She leveled a mock glare at him, ignoring the cursed telltale flush that was probably spreading its way along her neck and ears. “Some of us prefer to actually glean useful information from what we read—savor it, if you will—rather than speeding through it in order to get it out of the way as quickly as possible.”
“Oh, I see.” Jonathan sat on the edge of the table, perching and preening and looking altogether far too pleased with himself. “So that would be why you’ve been staring at that same page for close to five minutes now?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Evelyn tried to sound cross, but somehow couldn’t stop the smile from slipping across her face. “There is no way you’ve been standing there watching me for five minutes. I know you far too well to think you have that kind of patience.”
He was trying to look wounded, she could tell, but he was having even less luck at it than she was at maintaining her annoyance. “Fair enough,” he sighed. “I suppose it was closer to two minutes. My point still stands, though.”
“Jonathan…” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “What point?”
“That your mind is obviously on something other than…” He leaned forward, craning his head to skim the book’s pages, and wrinkled his nose. “New Kingdom Amduat paintings.”
“I happen to find them fascinating,” she retorted, but judging by Jonathan’s completely unconvinced expression, she was fighting a losing battle.
“Oh, very well,” she sighed. “I was thinking about Rick. Feel free to say you told me so.”
She crossed her arms and looked up at him, expecting to see his smirk turn triumphant. Instead, a shadow of a frown crossed his face.
“O’Connell was going to be my first guess,” he said, “except that you looked rather…troubled. You’re not getting cold feet already, are you, ol’ mum? You’ve only been engaged for less than a month.”
Evelyn bit her lip, her eyes dropping to the engagement ring on her finger, its gold band stark against the dull beige pages of her book. It was still odd, an unfamiliar weight on her hand, forever catching on things. She’d told herself she simply wasn’t used to its presence yet.
“Not to worry, Jonathan,” she said briskly—perhaps a bit more briskly than intended. “My feet are perfectly warm. It’s just—a good idea to think carefully about these things before rushing into them, isn’t it? I simply want to be sure we’re right for each other. ‘Until death do us part’ is a long time, after all.”
“One hopes, anyway,” Jonathan said dryly. “But you know, if our good old friend Imhotep can still be in love with that charming lady of his after several thousand years, I’d say you and O’Connell have a decent enough chance, wouldn’t you?”
“Jonathan!” she protested. “This is serious.”
“You’re right, you’re right.” He sobered, leaning forward to pat her hand. “Have you talked with him about it?”
“A little.” Evelyn sighed, running her thumb back and forth along the ring. “But not as much as I would like. Everything has just happened so quickly.”
“An encounter with a living, talking mummy does provide a setting for a rather unusual courtship,” Jonathan agreed. “But listen, Evy…you know I’ll be behind you no matter what you decide. Right?”
“I know.” She smiled up at him, and let her left hand fall back into her lap, fidgeting deliberately ceasing. “Thank you, Jonathan.”
“Yes, well.” He cleared his throat, giving her hand a brief squeeze. “Anything for my baby sister.”
Evelyn stared at the book for another solid hour after he had gone, and even succeeded in processing another handful of pages. Yet more often than not, the words seemed to drift and blur together in a manner that was becoming all too familiar of late. Finally she sighed and pushed the book closed, tucking it under her arm and setting down the hallway toward the library.
She had always loved walking through the museum at night, after the crowds dissipated and the doors closed. When all was calm and dark, save for the flickering torchlight, it was easy to close her eyes and pretend she could slip back in time—back to when the pharaohs’ great statues had been unbroken and the paintings fresh and vibrant, the hieroglyphs a flowing spoken language instead of dead symbols on papyrus scraps.
Yet now, in the weeks and months following an all-too-real encounter with ancient history, it was hard not to feel a little on edge as she went about her duties. She found her steps quickening involuntarily as she passed through the galleries, and she skirted the sarcophagi rooms altogether.
“Silly superstition,” she scolded herself, muttering under her breath as she entered the library, closing the door firmly behind her. “Get a hold of yourself, for heaven’s sake.”
The glint of light on gold welcomed her from across the room, and she released a long breath, letting her eyes skim over the artifacts spread across the tables. She’d had to all but pry them from Jonathan’s clutching fingers after he’d discovered them stashed in his camel’s saddlebags during their return trip from Hamunaptra, but she was more than willing to put up with a few brotherly complaints if it meant having a wealth of fascinating new objects to catalogue.
“Thought I might find you here.”
She jumped and spun around, already reaching out for the nearest torch, but it was only Rick, leaning against the wall with his thumbs hooked over his belt. He pushed off and ambled toward her, his trademark grin on his face and his unruly hair hanging over his eyes.
“O’Connell!” Evelyn exclaimed, laying a hand over her galloping heart and mentally congratulating herself on holding back a yelp. “Must you sneak up on me like that?”
“Sorry.” He came to a stop next to her and shrugged, his grin only widening. “Didn’t mean to scare ya.”
She pursed her lips and looked up at him, unable to resist the urge to reach up and push the hair back from his eyes. “You do recall, don’t you, what the only thing about you that scares me is?”
“Yeah, I remember,” he said, voice rueful. “My manners.”
He paused and looked down at her, a little frown gathering between his brows.
“So, uh…” he said. “Back to O’Connell, huh?”
Evelyn blinked, her eyes flicking back to the artifacts on the table. Her hands twisted together of their own accord, fingers worrying at the engagement ring.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I meant to say ‘Rick.’ I don’t know why O’Connell popped out instead.”
She cleared her throat and took a step away, plucking up one of the artifacts and turning it over in her hands. She could feel Rick’s eyes following her, like a weight on her shoulders.
“Everything okay?” he asked, and she could hear the frown in his voice. “You seem a little…off.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing, really.” She turned to face him, meeting his skeptical expression and trying to disarm it with a smile. “Just a few pre-wedding jitters.”
“Uh-huh.” Rick nodded slowly. “Jitters.”
Evelyn cleared her throat again, reaching up to smooth both hands over her hair. The ring snagged on a curl, and she fought back the urge to hiss a particularly inventive Egyptian epithet. “Well, now that you mention it,” she said instead, “there is a conversation I’ve been meaning to have with you.”
To her dismay, Rick’s expression slid from skeptical to alarmed. “Conversation? Okay. That sounds bad.”
“Rick!” She put her hands on her hips, her chin snapping up. “There isn’t anything wrong with just talking, you know. Life isn’t always non-stop action and gun battles and treasure-seeking and mummy-hunting—”
“Is that what this is about?” He frowned, reaching toward her. “Evy—”
A distant, muffled thud stopped him mid-step, both of them freezing in place to listen. A creaking sound followed, then another, then the distinct pattern of approaching footsteps.
“Probably just the night cleaning staff,” Evelyn murmured, even as she edged closer to the torch on the wall, carefully lifting it from its perch.
“Maybe.” Rick’s expression tightened, and he reached for the pistol on his hip. “Still doesn’t hurt to check it out.”
It probably should have alarmed her how natural it felt to fall in step next to him, gun in his hand and torch in hers, creeping down the hallway as though they were soldiers infiltrating enemy territory instead of a librarian and her fiancé walking through a museum. As they drew closer, Evelyn could hear whispers and mutterings begin to overlap the footsteps, the voices male and British.
She glanced at Rick. His face was grim.
“I get the feeling those aren’t the janitors,” he muttered.
Evelyn shook her head. “No, I’m afraid not.” She paused, letting out a slow exhale. “On the plus side, however, they’re not undead mummies either.”
That earned her a snort of laughter, quickly muffled, and despite the situation she couldn’t help but grin in return.
“Sounds like they’re just around the corner,” Rick mouthed. “You ready?”
Evelyn nodded, tightening her grip on the torch. “After you.”
She kept close on his heels as he rounded the corner gun-first, stopping short when they found themselves face-to-face with a trio of armed men. The torch flickered and spat in Evelyn’s hand, casting the intruders’ faces in uneven light and making them look ghastly and misshapen.
She swallowed, tightening her jaw and squaring her shoulders.
“Gentlemen,” Rick said, and cocked his pistol. “Can I help you find something?”
For a moment, the gallery lay silent as a tomb as the men exchanged glances. Then one stepped forward almost nonchalantly, hefting his own gun and thumbing the trigger.
“Could be,” he drawled. “Been hearin’ rumors of a large stash of shiny new pieces being delivered here not long ago. Thought we might come and…liberate a few of ‘em.”
Evelyn bristled, taking a step forward before she could think better of it, brandishing the torch out in front of her. “Over my dead body,” she hissed.
“Ah, Evy…” Rick’s free hand nudged at her elbow. “Might not want to give them ideas.”
The intruders’ leader chuckled, his gaze sliding over to Evelyn. “Wasn’t actually talking to you, little lady,” he said. “But now that you mention it…”
She ducked and rolled out of instinct—or perhaps it was experience, now—and the crack of gunfire rang in her ears, the first bullet whizzing between her and Rick to smash into the far wall. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rick dodging as more shots rang out, diving into cover behind one of the gallery cases. Evelyn followed suit, huddling behind a nearby bookcase and wincing as more bullets flew past.
“Now I almost wish we’d let Jonathan keep that treasure!” Rick yelled across to her, leaning out of cover to return fire. Evelyn heard a yell followed by a crash as one of his shots found its mark, leaving the thief sprawled across the floor in a twitching heap.
Evelyn held her breath, listening to the brief lull in the gunfire before the ringleader let out a short but impressive string of curses.
“You!” he barked to his remaining henchman. “Go find the damn gold and get it out of here. I’ll deal with these two.”
Another burst of gunfire almost drowned out the retreating thief’s footsteps, and Evelyn risked peeking out just far enough to watch him vanish around the corner, heading in the direction of the library. She clenched her jaw and curled her fingers into fists, eyes narrowing on the spot where he’d disappeared.
“Oh no you don’t,” she muttered.
She could almost hear Rick’s jaw hit the floor when she vaulted out of cover, ducking behind gallery cases and dodging shattered glass as she hurled herself toward the door.
“Evelyn!” he yelled. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I’m not letting him get his hands on those artifacts!” she called back over her shoulder. “Just trust me!”
The thief may have had a head start, but he didn’t know the museum as well as someone who’d all but lived in it for half her childhood and most of her adult life. When she was clear of the gallery and the gunfire, she ducked into a side corridor half obscured by a hanging tapestry, hurtling through the hallway until she burst through on the other side.
She paused to catch her breath, eyes darting back and forth. The library door was just visible across the hall, and the thief was nowhere to be seen.
“Careful,” she whispered to herself, gathering up her skirts in both hands and taking a deep breath.
As quietly as she could muster, she raced across the hall and flung open the library door, skidding inside and shoving it closed behind her, eyes searching every corner of the room. A sharp gust of relief washed over her when she saw the artifacts all sitting where she had left them, lined up in their neat rows on the tables.
“Still waiting to be catalogued, I see,” she whispered, nodding to herself and letting her fingers dart over each piece as she conducted a quick head-count. “It’ll take more than a few thugs to—”
The creaking of the door interrupted her, and she swallowed the rest of the words as she turned back toward the entrance. The thief stood there, pistol in hand, eyes glinting as he took in the gold objects spread across the tables behind her.
“What’s this?” he said. “Just one woman? Not a whole army of guards? I’m almost disappointed.”
He took a step forward, then another. Evelyn stood her ground, raising her chin. She balled her fist, letting out a long, slow breath.
“If you want these artifacts,” she said, “you’ll have to go through me.”
The intruder snorted. “Lady, I don’t think that’s gonna be a probl—”
She didn’t give him a chance to finish before her fist connected with his face in a perfect right hook. He had just enough time to stumble back a step, a look of hazy confusion crossing his face, before he slumped to the floor, out cold.
Evelyn uncurled her fingers, looking down at them with mild astonishment. “Well,” she said aloud. “Looks like all that time spent practicing with Rick actually paid off.”
“Let me get this straight,” Rick said, standing off to the side with Evelyn as the police began to haul off the would-be robbers. “You faced down a man with a gun, and knocked him out cold…with your bare hands.”
She flexed her fingers at her sides, replaying the scene in her mind as the adrenaline wore off. “That about sums it up, yes.”
Rick slipped his hand under her chin, drawing her eyes up to meet his. “Have I ever mentioned that I love you?”
Evelyn laughed, standing up on her tiptoes for a quick kiss. “Possibly once or twice?”
“I have to ask, though,” he said, slanting a grin at her. “What was that you were saying right before this happened? Something about life being normal and boring sometimes?”
She couldn’t help but return the grin even as she rolled her eyes. “If I didn’t know better,” she said, “I would almost think you had concocted this entire scenario just to prove a point.”
“Me?” His expression was so impressively innocent that she almost had to wonder if he’d been practicing it. “Surely I could never do something so devious.”
“I have no doubt you could,” she retorted. “But honestly, Rick. This incident notwithstanding, I hope you can see where I’m coming from. I am, at the end of the day, a librarian. It’s not always going to be all dashing heroism and foiling robberies and saving the world from terror and evil—”
“Evelyn,” he said, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Do you really think I want to spend the rest of my life being chased by bandits and evil mummies?”
“Perhaps not,” she admitted. “But that doesn’t mean you want to spend it in a museum or on dusty dig sites surrounded by ancient books and artifacts, either.”
He chuckled. “I think I can put up with a few books and artifacts if it means having you around.”
Her heart made a rather treacherous quivery leap in her chest, but she tried her best to ignore it, maintaining her skeptical expression. “And you’re sure about that?”
“Yep.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “I do like helping you work, you know. Even when you’re in here poking through that treasure for ten hours straight and I don’t have a damn clue what exactly it is you’re doing.”
“Hmm.” She tilted her head, looking up at him through her lashes. “I knew there was a reason I agreed to marry you.”
His innocent expression made a reappearance. “You mean aside from my devastating good looks?”
Evelyn snorted. “Yes, aside from that.”
“And my dashing charm?” he added.
She rolled her eyes. “And your humility, of course.”
“Can’t forget that.”
She shook her head and raised one hand, crooking a finger at him. “If you’re quite finished congratulating yourself, perhaps you could get over here and kiss me.”
He cocked his head, pretending to consider. "Well, all right. I guess I could do that, if you insist."
She hooked her fingers in his collar, grinning up at him as he leaned in. "Yes, I'm afraid I do."