The Parliament of Blood Read Online Free Page A

these delicate wrappings,’ he said. ‘I am now about to make a very careful cut across the head, and soon we will look on the ancient face of Orabis. The first people to gaze upon his visage in four thousand years.’
    There was a collective intake of breath as Brinson again leaned into the coffin, stretching out with the sharp knife.
    Beside the professor, Sir Harrison Judd cleared histhroat. ‘Perhaps I can help,’ he said gruffly. ‘Hold the chap’s head still for you.’ He stepped towards where Brinson was concentrating on his work.
    And as he stepped, Sir Harrison Judd seemed to stumble and lurched sideways, clutching for support. He caught at Brinson’s arm, almost regained his balance, then slipped again.
    It was not much of a stumble, not much of an inconvenience. But from where they were standing, George and Eddie both had a good view of the result, though Eddie was having to stand on tiptoe to see into the sarcophagus. To see the knife knocked sideways and slicing into Brinson’s left wrist as the professor held the side of the mummy’s head.
    Brinson cried out – first in surprise, then fear as he realised he was bleeding. He dropped the knife, which clattered into the coffin. Clutching his left wrist with his right hand, he raised it slowly. The blood was already welling up along the cut. It ran and dripped, falling after the knife. Splashing on to the bandaged face of the mummy.
    The pale wrappings were spattered with red. Drips, then a trickle as the blood ran freely. Sir Harrison Judd was holding Brinson’s injured wrist between both his hands, gripping it tight in an effort to stop the bleeding. But the immediate effect was to force out a rush of blood. A cascade falling into the open mouth of the wrapped figure.
    Seeing the blood, the people on the stage were standing, gasping. Lord Ruthven produced a handkerchief and with help from Judd tied it tight round Brinson’s wrist.
    The guests standing in the room below were watching, hushed. The woman in the red dress licked her lips.
    But George had no time to wonder at that. His attention was fixed once again on the sarcophagus. On the red-stained face of the figure inside. The wrappings seemed to dissolve. Steam was rising from the points where the blood had dripped, drifting away in a faint mist to reveal the weathered, parchment-like skin beneath. A face cracked and sunken with age.
    A face that was moving, turning, looking up at the people above.
    Then the wrappings seemed to tremble. George cried out in alarm and fright. Eddie grabbed his arm. Sir William took a step backwards knocking into his chair.
    A brown, emaciated hand thrust out through the cloth, clutching at the side of the sarcophagus. Slowly, almost majestically, the ancient figure sat up. The wrappings split apart as it hauled itself out of the sarcophagus. A woman screamed. Then another. People were running, shouting.
    In amongst them the ancient, long-dead, mummified figure of Orabis stepped heavily down from the stage and staggered towards the door.

CHAPTER 2

    Eddie recovered from the shock first. ‘Blimey,’ he said, grabbing George’s hand. ‘Come on, quick – after him.’
    â€˜After him? Why?’ George’s eyes were wide with shock as he watched the nightmare figure disappear out of the back door of the room.
    People were milling round, talking and shaking their heads. Professor Brinson had slumped into a chair behind the sarcophagus and was staring through unfocused eyes into space.
    Sir William nodded encouragement. ‘Best follow as Eddie says,’ he told George.
    â€˜And then what?’ George asked. But Eddie was pulling him to the side of the dais, and together they jumped down.
    â€˜What
is
going on?’ a woman asked as they pushed past. ‘Well,
really
,’ she complained when neither George nor Eddie paused to answer.
    â€˜Actor was it?’ a man with a full beard