Free Theodosia and the Last Pharoah by R. L. Lafevers Page A

note to ask my Chosen Keeper contact about it and let Gadji lead me away.
    Major Harriman Grindle lived in a small box-shaped house by the British consulate offices near one of the large hotels.
    "I wait out here so I can show you the way back." Gadji gave a snappy salute, then slipped away to settle in at the foot of a dusty palm tree that provided a small sliver of shade.
    I squared my shoulders and rapped smartly on the door. It opened immediately and I found myself staring into a large, broad chest covered in a rough goatskin tunic. Baggy black trousers were tucked into red leather boots, and a red cap with a rolled edge sat low on the man's brow. He wore a wicked-looking dagger at his hip. I looked up—and up, an impossibly long way—into a face not any darker than mine and a pair of eyes that were the color of aquamarines. He said nothing—not even hello—so I cleared my throat and spoke. "Um, is Major Harriman Grindle in?"
    The man gave a silent nod, then opened the door all the way, indicating that I should enter. It was cool and dark inside, and I had to blink a number of times so my eyes could adjust.
    "Follow me." His deep voice reverberated throughout the hall. He led me down a corridor, which descended in a series of steps and landings until we came to a closed door, which he opened to reveal a study of some sort. He ushered me inside. "Sahib will be with you shortly," he said, and then he shut the door behind him. I was alone in the cramped, dimly lit room.
    Or so I thought, for there was no one sitting at the desk. However, I had the distinct sensation of being watched. It wasn't quite the same feeling as when a curse was nearby. That was more of a beetles-marching-up-the-spine sensation. This was more like a few ants pirouetting along my shoulders—an entirely different feeling. Even so, it unnerved me, and I quickly turned around to see who was there.
    And nearly screamed when I came face-to-face with a small shrunken head. Three of them, to be precise. They were hanging from a brass hat rack. I took a quick step back and nearly tripped on the enormous leopard skin on the floor. I squealed and stepped back again, bumping into a large brass urn with ostrich plumes sprouting out the top. I grabbed for it, trying to keep the entire thing from tipping over.
    Completely unnerved, I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths to steady myself. When my heart had quit racing, I slowly opened my eyes and tried again.
    The entire room was full of all manner of curiosities and oddities, like a macabre museum. Strange things, marvelous things, and some truly frightening things were tucked on shelves that ran all the way around the room, as if the room itself were one giant closet. Petrified crocodile eggs were displayed on a small table. Next to it on the floor was an

    enormous snakeskin. The table next to that held dried scorpions (although they were so lifelike that I held my breath for a full minute, trying to decide if they were alive).
    But it was the shelves that drew my attention. Some of the things were easily dismissed as junk: a battered yellow turban, a severed goat's foot (ew!), three sharp teeth, a brace of black feathers, and a battered old brass lamp such as you'd find in any Egyptian bazaar.
    Except, I realized, the lamp wasn't quite as harmless as it first appeared. Something—not quite a curse, but something dark—lurked within that brass lamp. Or maybe that sensation was coming from the leering bronze mask next to it. Honestly, it could have been coming from any of the strange things on the shelf. Rings of bone, the large horn of a bull that disturbed me whenever my eyes fell on it ... There was an ancient-looking bronze trumpet, and while it didn't feel cursed, exactly, it felt powerful in some way I couldn't put my finger on.
    I glanced at the door, glad that it was still closed and Major Grindle hadn't arrived yet. It seemed to me that a man's shelves said an awful lot about him, and Major