The Honey Mummy (Folley & Mallory Adventure Book 3) by E. Catherine Tobler

a low queue. He wore a short beard, but Virgil could not discern if it was intentional or simply that the man had been too busy to properly groom himself. Virgil recognized the rumpled disarray of him in this regard, and didn’t care for it. Neither did he appear any older than Virgil; being that the man had ties to Howard Irving, Virgil had presumed Pettigrew would be older as well, well-travelled and versed in acquiring things that were not his own. Virgil wanted him to be less a potential peer and more a definite adversary.
    “Surely another coincidence,” Virgil said, not meaning a single word of it. “The odds of Akila—a time-traveler who has sworn to protect Egypt against all enemies—settling in right next to George Pettigrew—a known associate of the late Howard Irving, himself known for procuring and using Egypt’s finest treasures for his own
nefarious
doings—”
    “You keep using that word,” Eleanor said around a laugh, but there was underlying uneasiness within it. How could there not be?
    “Eleanor.” Cleo sidled up to them, nodding toward Akila as she bowed her silver head toward George Pettigrew in a greeting. “Have you seen—”
    “Oh, we have indeed,” Eleanor said.
    Cleo remained behind Virgil and Eleanor, and Virgil could not help but wonder if she was hiding—Akila had wanted to examine her, after all, in ways that were likely uncomfortable on the whole.
    “If she comes within arm’s reach of either of you,” Virgil said, “you shall bite her around the neck, drag her to the ground, and not cease biting until she is still.” On this matter, he was only partially joking; the woman’s appearance could mean nothing good for them on any front.
    “I can’t help but wonder if she uses the rings to travel,” Eleanor murmured as more people filtered into the auction and the chairs.
    “Virgil.” Auberon joined their tight knot, nodding toward Akila as she now regarded the auction catalogue all attendees had been given. “Have you seen—”
    “You’re late to the party, old man,” Virgil said, but was moderately reassured by Auberon’s presence. Should hell claw its demonic way from one of the assembled sarcophagi, they stood a better chance of putting it down with Auberon. Virgil’s confidence in his friend and partner had only grown these past few months; he had no doubts about him, not even with Cleo Barclay in such proximity. Auberon would never let such a thing cloud his performance.
    “Ladies, gentlemen, if you would please find your seats, this evening’s auction shall presently begin.”
    They did not want to appear overeager, though Virgil could sense the excitement that tightened Eleanor’s hand as she gripped his own and led him to chairs in the row behind both Akila and Pettigrew. Cleo and Auberon fell in alongside them, and Virgil tried very much not to squirm out of his necktie as the auctioneer began to get the auction underway.
    It was not so uncommon, the trafficking of items out of Egypt in this manner; many of Mistral’s own archives had likely been procured in this way. It still made part of him sick, perhaps the part that knew and respected the work Eleanor Folley did to preserve such items. He had learned in his own work that context was vital to an artifact’s provenance; to take the items and scatter them only diluted history as a whole.
    As matters went, the majority of the auction was predictable, the larger and more desirous items left until the last moments. Virgil took careful note of who was interested in what; while Akila and Pettigrew both bid on smaller items—headrests, chests, broken tablets—neither made a true stand or pressed their fellow bidders. They were content to bid and pass, and Virgil wondered if they were waiting for the sarcophagi or something else.
    When the lot of rings came to the floor, the sense of dread Virgil believed well behind him curled around his throat. The rings were not those of Anubis—surely they would not