Mummy Fanfic by Katie Sullivan
Rated PG-13 for innuendo, mild cussing and mature themes
Disclaimer: Meela/Anck-su-Namun, Imhotep, and all other characters besides Jeffrey are (c) Universal and are used without claim to copyright as a fan tribute. I maketh no money from this fic. Sueth me not.
Chapter Eight: When the Nile Meets the Thames
While the others got their precious cargo situated in a storage room beneath the British Museum, Meela allowed herself a quick shopping spree in London's finest stores. There were several hours to kill before the cover of darkness they needed for the next step of the plan. Besides, she wanted to look her best when her beloved awoke. The modern styles would no doubt be slightly disorienting to him, but, still, beauty was beauty.
The coup de grāce was the new dress she had special-ordered from a London tailor. It was roughly modern, but the cut and pattern of lines on the fabric nicely mirrored a design of paint she had often worn in ancient times. It was far warmer and more modest than mere body paint, but she hoped it was also familiar enough to put Imhotep at ease.
The Curator and Lock-Nah were ready to go when she returned from shopping, and darkness was swiftly falling, hastened by an approaching thunderstorm. Spies had already pinpointed the location of the O'Connells' mansion, so it was just a matter of going there and convincing them that surrendering the Bracelet would be a wise idea. Meela absently stroked the lid of the snake basket in her lap as the car sped through the night. A very wise idea indeed...
Breaking into the mansion was no problem. At first it seemed no one was home, but the cars in the driveway told a different story. They split up to search for either the Bracelet or someone to coerce into giving it up. Meela was rummaging through a desk drawer when a red-robed man informed her that the Curator had found the man of the house. Assuming it to be Nefertiri's lover, she picked up the snake basket and hurried to investigate.
When she arrived, the Curator and a number of Lock-Nah's men had the unfortunate man held in a chair with a sharp blade tickling his throat. She tried not to laugh, recognizing him as Johnathan, Evelyn/Nefertiri's loose-lipped brother. Since no one else knew any better, she decided to play along and have a little fun with him. "Hello," she cooed in her most seductive voice, strutting into the room with the snake basket held innocuously in her hands.
"Hello," he said nervously. It wasn't easy to sound charming with a sword blade across one's throat, but Johnathan did his absolute best.
"Where's your wife?" she asked.
"My wife? Oh, you mean Evy? Uh...I think she went off to Baden-Baden or Tibet or something. The girl's a free spirit." He somehow crossed his legs casually without making the sword cut into his neck, no small trick. Judging by the awkward attempt at flirting, he didn't recall their last meeting. Judging by the amount of alcohol he had imbibed that day, she wasn't the least surprised. "Did I mention I was single now?" he said with a cheesy grin.
Meela smiled slyly, since her own bachelorette status was soon to end. Speaking of which, time to get down to business. She opened the basket and fearlessly reached in for its inhabitant. As Anck-su-Namun she had had an uncanny way with snakes, and this had apparently carried on into this lifetime, as well. "Egyptian asps are quite poisonous," she said casually, planting a tiny kiss on the side of the animal's scaly head. She never understood why everyone go the heebie-jeebies from snakes. They were quite cute, she thought. Judging by the terrified expression on Johnathan's face as she approached him with this particular specimen, he didn't share her opinion.
"It's downstairs, there's a safe. The combination is uh, uh, three, twenty, fifty-eight, three nine three, something..."
She kept advancing with the increasingly annoyed snake.
"It's in the safe downstairs!" Johnathan insisted, his eyes for once riveted on something besides the most beautiful woman in the room. "I told you! I told you!"
"And your point is?"
"My point is I told you so you wouldn't kill me!" Johnathan said in a strangled voice.
"When did we make that arrangement?" she said with amusement, lowering the hissing snake ever closer to his pulsing neck.
The real Rick O'Connell chose that moment to enter the room. He stopped in his tracks upon seeing his brother-in-law surrounded by mean-looking men in red robes with swords, the Curator and Meela with her snake. "Uh, hello... Johnathan, I thought I said no more wild parties."
"Oh, well, when you're popular..."
"Of course, knowing my brother-in-law, he probably deserves whatever you're about to do to him, but this is my house and I have certain rules about snakes and dismemberment."
Meela changed the plan and chucked the snake at Rick instead, but his ancestral Med-Jai reflexes kicked in and allowed him to catch it harmlessly in mid-air. He then tossed it back at one of the red robed minions--not so harmlessly.
"Shoot him!" Meela ordered.
All proverbial hell broke loose then, with machine gun fire and swords and such flashing everywhere. Judging by the racket downstairs, Lock-Nah and the others had found something to occupy themselves, too. Meela did her best to stay out of the way of the machine gun fire and rounded up her poor snake, which had released its venom into a hapless bystander and was temporarily harmless.
Rick and Johnathan managed to escape through the bathroom window. Downstairs, however, Lock-Nah and his men had better luck. They managed to kidnap Evelyn/Nefertiri and the Bracelet's chest. Having gotten what they came for, they all piled into their cars and sped off into the rainy night.
Meela hugged the basket with her snake in it close to her chest and tried not to tremble with excitement. That was the last pesky detail to be taken care of. Now, at last, there was nothing standing between her and her goal of awakening Imhotep. She silently urged the driver to go faster. The sooner they were back to the British Museum, the sooner they could raise him. The Curator had tried to convince her to wait until they were back in Egypt, but she insisted upon doing it now for two reasons. First, with the O'Connells, and, according to Lock-Nah, the Med-Jai on their tail they would probably need his powers for protection. Second, she would simply explode if she had to wait any longer.
Even disregarding the speeding laws it seemed to take forever to reach the British Museum, but at last they were there. They parked in back, and the engine was still running when Meela threw the door open and dashed inside with the others on her heels. Lock-Nah's men had prepared the storage room for the ceremony. A ring of torches surrounded the makeshift altar where the chunk of rock waited.
A part of Meela wanted to read the incantation from the Book of the Dead herself, but when it came right down to it she was too nervous. Like a schoolgirl waiting for her date to pick her up for the prom, she was suddenly shy and skittish. Her hands were shaking and her knees felt like wet noodles. The Curator gently took the heavy book from her and shooed her into an adjacent room to compose herself. "You can come out when it is over. You will know when."
She nodded and sat down on a packing crate. From the next room, she listened as Lock-Nah's men issued a droning chant. The Curator's voice rang out, reading the unmistakable words from the Book of the Dead.
"Akum Ra.... Akum Dei..."
Meela closed her eyes and tried to breathe slowly. The ancient words had a strangely calming effect on her. As the Curator chanted for Imhotep to rise up, Meela did, too. She stood, once again confident and sure.
An unearthly moaning roar came from the next room, and she smiled. It was time. She ran a hand through her hair, shook out her tense wrists and began walking toward the sound.
There he was, talking to the Curator. Imhotep.
She walked forward with renewed confidence, her eyes riveted on his.
She had expected to be frightened and revolted by his mummified appearance, but somehow it didn't seem to matter. He was her soul mate, and her soul recognized his with a surge of love that made physical form inconsequential. His aura was his own, the adoring gaze he fixed on her the same as ever. This was Imhotep. Her Imhotep.
The Curator interpreted her rapt stare as fear, and said, "Do not be frightened."
Her eyes never left her beloved. "I am not afraid," she said with demure amusement. Then, slipping into the ancient Egyptian tongue with ease, she said, "I am Anck-su-Namun reincarnated."
Imhotep's ragged face took on that familiar smirk. "Only in body," he said, taking a strand of her ebony hair in his fingers. "But soon... I shall bring back your soul from the underworld, and our love shall once again be whole." His voice was raspy, like the long-unused instrument it was, but it sent quivers down her spine. It had been so long since she had heard his voice outside a dream.
He had touched her. He had spoken to her. It was real. He was here at last, beside her. Everything couldn't help but be perfect from this point onward. Destiny wouldn't dare to interfere with their happiness again. Not this time. Not if she had anything to say about it.
Unfortunately, she did...
(The rest of the story is included in my fanfic "Through a Mummy's Eyes")