The Weight of Souls

“Nothing.” I looked him in the eye. He shifted uncomfortably.

“Peter, I want you to tell me straight up. Is this going to be another case like Justin Hargreaves?”

“Like Justin?” Pete’s eyes widened.

“Don’t play dumb with me, boy, is this something to do with the club? And if so, will it look like an accident?”

I staggered sideways, catching Pete’s elbow to stop my legs from folding. “You don’t care that they might be injured or dead?”

“I care very much.” Mr Barnes rose to his feet. “But I’m not a paramedic. My job is not to save lives.”

“Then what is your job?” I leaned forward. “You’re our head teacher, you’re meant to care.”

“I care.” He pushed his glasses up on his nose. “You’re new, Taylor, so you have no idea yet what V can do for you in the coming years. Right now I have to do damage control. Your group has caused more problems than any other year group. I need to know what has happened to them, so I can tell our friend on the force.”

“You mean so he can cover things up.” Horror had blanched my face. My cheeks were cold as if I’d had water thrown on me.

“If necessary.” He smiled, all crocodile-teeth. “If you were involved in what happened then you should be grateful to have an adult on your side. That’s another advantage of V.”

I slipped my arm out of Pete’s and deliberately slowly I leaned on the desk. “Don’t worry. James, Harley and Tamsin won’t be found, not by the police, not by anybody.”

Mr Barnes blinked. “You’re certain about that?”

“Very. And I’m also certain that V is shutting down.”

Mr Barnes guffawed, but his fingers were twisting nervously in his tie. “V shut down? You aren’t thinking straight.”

I curled my lip. “V is over. Four kids from one year-group are gone now. The authorities are going to have to start looking closely at the place. I’ll speak to parents, newspapers, anyone who will listen. It won’t be a secret society anymore. I imagine you’ll lose your job.”

Mr Barnes stood unmoving as though he’d been sent to Anubis. Then slowly his fingers uncurled from his tie. His mouth seized, eating invisible limes. Sour lines appeared on his face. “You’re a nasty piece of work, Miss Oh.” His small mustache twitched. “They should never have let you join V. I have no idea why they did. They were better kids than you could ever be.”

“Wait a minute.” Pete jerked, but I gestured him into quiet.

“All you want to do is destroy things for everybody else. I’ve seen your grades, when you get out of here you’ll be a nobody. You won’t be getting into university, I have no idea who’d employ a loser like you.” Mr Barnes leaned forward. “But if you remain quiet and stay in V there is at least one university that will take you on, no questions. You’ll walk into a good job when you leave. You’ll have prospects. Imagine how proud your dad will be.”

My breath stopped in my chest. Dad was losing hope. If I could go to university he’d be delighted. He would feel as if he’d beaten the curse. It would be a perfect gift.

Like a shark scenting blood in the water, Mr Barnes could feel me wavering. He smiled like a benevolent grandfather. “Think of what your poor, dead mother would have wanted for you.”

My head snapped up. “You’re right.” I pictured her face. “I should think of Mum. She would never want this for me.”

“Too true.” He took off his glasses and rubbed them on the inside of his jacket. “So enough of this nonsense. Let’s talk about your friends.”

“No.” I panted as if I’d run a marathon. “Mum wouldn’t want me in the V Club, she was honourable.” I dug my nails into my palms. “She believed in justice.” I looked out of the window. There was a dark haired boy in a school uniform standing outside the gates, looking up at Mr Barnes’ office as though he could see me through the window. “Justin wouldn’t want me to stop either. I’m taking the V Club down, Mr Barnes. So get ready.”

I spun around and headed for the office door.

“Miss Oh,” Mr Barnes voice was low and snarling. “You don’t want to make an enemy of me.”

I grinned sourly. “Perhaps it’s me who makes a bad enemy.”

“Are you threatening me?” He turned apoplectic purple and I shook my head.

“You should think about what I said.” I paused with my hand on the door. “Pete and I have to get to registration.”

Pete caught up with me and his face was almost as pale as Hannah’s. “What have you done?” He shook himself like a dog.

33 The light seeker

Gabriel Oh rocked back and forth on his wheels, teeth on his bottom lip, pencil tapping the leather of his armrests. It didn’t make sense.

He had both The Tale of Oh-Fa and the Professor’s notebook open in front of him. The Tale described how Oh-Fa himself had found the image of Anubis carved into a stone tablet in the sand. He considered the text.

As I brushed sand aside, as I have done a million times before, the visage of a dog’s head on a man’s body resolved itself.

The Professor’s translation of the tablet Oh-Fa had discovered was scribbled over three pages in his book. The first part of the translation was a fairly standard curse. Gabriel had seen other similar stanzas when Emma had sought the right words to carve on the house, to protect herself and Taylor from the ghosts. He swallowed; he had to re-evaluate every memory of his wife. Regret every harsh word he’d ever said about the illness. But not now. He turned back to the curse:

“This is a way, but not the true way.

Death comes to he who enters the tomb

through the Darkness on clawed feet.

He will be nowhere and his house will be nowhere;

he will be one proscribed, one who eats himself.”

In The Tale the beast was described as having clawed feet. He paged through until he found the passage. Then he muttered out loud. A clawed foot slid towards me…

So the threat was quite literal. Anyone who entered the tomb the wrong way would be killed by the clawed beast waiting inside. “And they entered the wrong way,” he muttered. “They walked into the darkness, straight into a beast waiting to kill them.”

That did make sense. But the second part of the translation did not.

“He who is in the place of embalming.

Is hungry for the world.

Bound to the queen’s tomb by the priests of Horus.

Until the coming of the light-seeker –

Not living, not dead, not a child, not a man.”

As for him who shall destroy this inscription: He shall not reach his home. He shall not embrace his children. He shall not see success.

“He who is in the place of embalming” was another name for Anubis. Given that