The Mummy or Ramses the Damned by Anne Rice

leather-bound book in his hands.
    “Julie,” he said with a slow and deliberate glance in the direction of the Egyptian room, “I brought your father’s notebook to you. I didn’t want to give it to the people at the museum.”
    “Oh, I’m so glad. Do join us, please.”
    “No, I must return to work immediately. I want to make sure things are done as they should be. And you must read this notebook, Julie. The newspapers, they published only the bare bones of this story. There is more here.…”
    “Come, sit down,” she pressed again. “We’ll take care of that together, later.”
    After a moment’s hesitation, he gave in. He took the chair beside her, giving a little polite nod to Alex, to whom he’d been introduced before.
    “Julie, your father had only begun his translations. You know his command of the ancient tongues.…”
    “Yes, I’m eager to read it. But what is really troubling you?” she said earnestly. “What is wrong?”
    Samir pondered, then: “Julie, I am uneasy about this discovery. I am uneasy about the mummy and the poisons contained in the tomb.”
    “Were they really Cleopatra’s poisons?” Alex said quickly. “Or is that something the reporters dreamed up?”
    “No one can say,” Samir answered politely.
    “Samir, everything is carefully labelled,” Julie said. “The servants had been told.”
    “You don’t believe in the curse now, do you?” Alex asked.
    Samir made a little polite smile. “No. Nevertheless,” he said, turning back to Julie. “Promise me that if you see anything strange, even if you suffer a presentiment, you will call me at the museum at once.”
    “But, Samir, I never expected you to believe—”
    “Julie, curses are rare in Egypt,” he said quickly. “And the admonitions written on this mummy case are most severe. The story of the creature’s immortality, there are more details in this little book.”
    “But you don’t think Father really succumbed to a curse, Samir.”
    “No. But the things found in the tomb defy explanation. Except if one believes … But then that is absurd. I ask only that you take nothing for granted. That you call me if you need me at once.”
    He took his leave of her abruptly, and went back into the library. She could hear him speaking Arabic to one of the workmen. She watched them uneasily through the open doors.
    Grief, she thought. It’s a strange and a misunderstood emotion. He grieves for Father as I do, and so the whole discovery is ruined for him. How difficult all this must be.
    And he would have so enjoyed all of it if only … Well, she understood. It was not so with her. She wanted nothing so much as to be alone with Ramses the Great and his Cleopatra. But she understood. And the pain of Father’s loss would be there forever. She didn’t really want it to go away. She looked at Alex, poor lost boy staring at her with such concern.
    “I love you,” he whispered suddenly.
    “Why, what on earth has come over you!” She laughed softly.
    He looked baffled, childlike. Her handsome fiancé was really suffering suddenly. She couldn’t bear it.
    “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe I’m having a presentiment. Is that what he called it? I only know I want to remind you—I love you.”
    “Oh, Alex, dear Alex.” She bent forward and kissed him, and felt his sudden desperate clasp of her hand.
    The gaudy little clock on Daisy’s dressing table rang six.
    Henry sat back, stretched, then reached for the champagne again, filling his glass, then hers.
    She looked drowsy still, the thin satin strap of her nightgown fallen down over one rounded arm.
    “Drink, darling,” he said.
    “Not me, lovey. Singing tonight,” she said with an arrogant lift of her chin. “I can’t drink all day like some I know.” She tore off a bit of meat from the roasted fowl on her plate, and put it in her mouth crudely. Beautiful mouth. “But this cousin of yours! She’s not afraid of the bloody mummy! Putting it right