Queen Mummy: The Mummy Queen's Revenge, #1

By M. L. Bullock

The Mummy Meets the Tomb Raider!

 

Hyala was raised and groomed to be the perfect body double for the spoiled princess Rekhetre, daughter of Pharaoh Khafre. Hyala never expected that the world she entered would offer endless and unavoidable dangers. Palace intrigue escalates when Rekhetre is accused of betraying her tempestuous husband Menkaure. After the unfaithful consort pushes her husband too far, he sentences her to death but Rekhetre cleverly seeks to avoid death by offering up Hyala instead.

Falsely identified and buried alive, Hyala is forced to endure a cursed death. Priestess Kyete vows to bring her daughter, Hyala, back and swears that together they will seek revenge.

Thousands of years have passed...

Dr. Sofia Ravi stumbles upon a cache of tombs, unopened and in pristine condition. Not one or two but three sarcophagi are discovered. One sarcophagus was more formidable than all the others. Dr. Ravi meets Katherine, a mysterious Egyptologist who helps her decipher the symbols and cartouches in the chamber.

Will Hyala rise and seek her revenge? Does Dr. Ravi understand her role in their fight for revenge? Is she truly Rekhetre or is she also wrongly accused?

Queen Mummy is Book One in the Mummy Queen's Revenge series by M.L. Bullock. Read Dark Mummy next--an Egyptian adventure that carries you through time and space. Follow the magic of ancient Egypt and uncover the truth about Hyala and Rekhetre.

• Language: English
• Publisher: M.L. Bullock
• Release date: Jul 22, 2023
• ISBN: 9798201631772

M. L. Bullock

M. L. Bullock is the bestselling author of the Seven Sisters series. Born in Antigua, British West Indies, she has had a lifelong love affair with haunted houses, lonesome beaches, and forgotten places. She currently lives on the Gulf Coast and regularly haunts her favorite hangout, Dauphin Island. A visit to Historic Oakleigh House in Mobile, Alabama, inspired her successful supernatural suspense series Seven Sisters. For more information, visit mlbullock.com.

Book preview

Queen Mummy

The Mummy Queen’s Revenge

Book One

By M.L. Bullock

Text copyright © 2023 Monica L. Bullock

All Rights Reserved

"Whenever I leave you, I go out of breath,

(Death must be lonely like I am);

I dream lying dreams of your love lost,

And my heart stands still inside me."

– Papyrus Harris 500

Discovered by Anthony Charles Harris, 1855

Written by Anonymous in 1077 BC

Contents

Chapter One—Dr. Sofi Ravi

Chapter Two—Sofi

Chapter Three—Hyala

Chapter Four—Hyala

Chapter Five – Sofi

Chapter Six—Sofi

Chapter Seven—Sofi

Chapter Eight—Hyala

Chapter Nine—Sofi

Chapter Ten—Sofi

Chapter Eleven—Hyala

Chapter Twelve—Sofi

Chapter Thirteen—Sofi

Chapter Fourteen—Hyala

Chapter Fifteen—Hyala

Chapter Sixteen—Sofi

Chapter Seventeen—Sofi

Chapter Eighteen—Hyala

Chapter Nineteen—Sofi

Author’s Note

Chapter One—Dr. Sofi Ravi

The sun reigned supreme in the unforgiving sky above Cairo, lashing down relentless rays of blistering heat upon the expansive dig site. It cast an ethereal golden hue over the sprawling vista of sand and time-ravaged ruins, bathing them in an otherworldly glow that made them appear like a mirage out of an old, forgotten tale. Rivulets of sweat trickled down my forehead, tracing a saline path that served as a bitter testament to the grueling conditions.

I squinted against the glaring light; my dark eyes narrowed into slits of resolute determination. Around me stretched the battlefield where I and my dedicated team had been waging a tireless war against time and obscurity for the past six months.

We had been clawing, inch by inch, into the bosom of history, fervently hoping to uncover something of significance. Yet, the obstinate sands had so far offered little more than an arid canvas of disappointment.

The specter of expectation weighed heavily on my shoulders. The university, with its insatiable thirst for measurable achievement, demanded tangible results, not mere scholarly conjectures, or optimistic predictions.

If I wanted to keep the lifeblood of funding flowing into our project, the pressure was not merely on—it was tightening its noose around us with every passing day. Me specifically. It was my name on this project but this had been my wish. To stand on my own two feet. To leave Bruce out of it.

Yeah, no pressure there. 

Suddenly, a voice punctuated the desolate silence that hovered over the site like a stifling blanket. Dr. Ravi, hailed Tarek, one of my young assistants whose features were steadily hardening under the relentless trials of the field. His voice carried the weary echo of yet another futile pursuit. We've finished excavating the west quadrant. We’ve found nothing of note there.

Thank you, Tarek, I responded, my voice seasoned with a bitter tang of frustration that I hadn't intended to express. But the disappointment was fast becoming a constant companion, and masking it was increasingly challenging. I brushed the loose sand off my khakis, straightening as I stood and resolutely squared my shoulders.

Alright, I declared, my voice resounding with renewed determination. Let’s call it for this quadrant. Move the team to the south section. We’re racing against a ticking clock, with a mere four weeks left to show the world what we’ve found. Let’s at least find something, people. In a quieter voice I said, Have them shift the gear. Tell Ahmed it’s time to move. Chin up, okay?

Okay. Chins up, Ahmed appeared smiling and began plotting the move His orders were given with the gravitas of a seasoned general rallying his forces, each syllable punctuated with a sense of urgency that underscored the criticality of our quest. Yeah, Ahmed was a hands-on kind of man. I liked that about him.

As his commands were disseminated amongst the team, the tired workers began to stir from their momentary lull, their movements sparking a new wave of fervor in our collective pursuit. The promise of undiscovered history hidden within the southern quadrant felt tantalizingly close, a treasure far more precious than any material wealth, yet frustratingly elusive.

As our focus shifted, I was overcome by a familiar ache, a yearning that was deeply ingrained in my being. That yearning could easily be boiled down to wanting to be right. To get the hunch right. To prove that my research wasn’t merely a stack of conjectures, that I too had something to offer history.

The world of archaeology had claimed my life, fueled by an unquenchable curiosity about the forgotten past and an incessant desire to decode its encrypted secrets. Strange that I should be here. There were no true adventurers in my family. A few postal workers. A professional nanny. No Egyptologists. Except me.

Each time I found myself standing on the precipice of a new dig site, a cocktail of hope and trepidation stirred within me. It was a constant question, lingering on the edges of my thoughts - would this be the site that would bear the fruit of a world-altering discovery? Wasn’t that every scientist’s dream?

Interrupting my introspection, a voice permeated the air, crackling with a sense of urgency. Dr. Ravi, came the call from Fatima, another one of my assistants. An ever-reliable presence, her usually calm demeanor had shifted drastically in recent weeks. I missed her friendship but things weren’t right between Fatima and me. The source of the tension didn’t seem important enough to tackle because neither of us had so much as mentioned Bruce’s name.

Hold on. Tarek! Wait! I think we might have found something. Fatima was practically vibrating with barely contained excitement, her words tumbling out in a breathless rush. This departure from her usual stoicism was as striking as it was intriguing. The pretty young Jordanian woman had always been as cool as a cucumber, a phrase fondly coined by my American grandmother.

It was strange, the way my mind decided to wander down memory lane in the middle of such a critical juncture.

It had been over a decade since my grandmother had passed on, yet at that moment, her memory felt as vibrant and as real as the morning sun beating down on the ancient sand. She had always been a beacon of strength and wisdom, and perhaps her spirit was still guiding me, steering me toward the discovery that had so far eluded us. I liked to think so.

A thrilling rush of adrenaline surged through my veins, propelling me hastily towards Fatima's location. She was kneeling in the granulated canvas of the desert, a figure of intensity against the vast expanse of unending sand. As my gaze was drawn to the object she had unearthed, my pulse escalated to a breakneck pace, mirroring the crescendo of exhilaration that was building within me.

Nestled in the coarse grains of sand was a significant artifact—a stone seal, part of a door, exquisitely carved with painstaking precision. It bore the definitive emblem of a falcon, a symbol that resonated with the echoes of ancient Egyptian mythology—the sacred embodiment of the god Horus.

Yes! The seal rested on a large, curved stone. An archway! This was an entrance!

Could it be? I breathed out, my words barely a whisper in the arid desert air. My heart was a wild drum in my chest, echoing the rhythm of an ancient dance of discovery.

Is this the clue I’ve been so desperately scouring the sands for?

The air crackled with palpable excitement, a sense of anticipation that was almost tangible. Tarek, his eyes ignited with a spark of hope, chimed in, Shall we proceed? His question was met with nods of approval as he and the rest of the team began to dig with renewed fervor.

The promise of a significant discovery was like a potent elixir, fueling their efforts.

I guess we should hold off on that move? Tarek queried with a lopsided grin in between shoveling scoops of sand into baskets.

A smile broke across my face, an unrestrained expression of burgeoning hope and camaraderie. I joined Ahmed, my hands gingerly assisting with removing the stubborn sand clinging to the new find. Time seemed to slip away as we worked in a blur of frenzied dedication.

Finally, with a sigh of accomplishment, I straightened up, stretching the cricks out of my back.

As I looked around, I could see the same spark of expectation mirrored in my team's faces—the possibility of a momentous discovery was igniting a fire of hope. This small stone seal had stirred up more than just the ancient sands—it had awakened a shared dream that was propelling us all forward.

As I stood amidst the bustle of the site, I felt a wave of awe washing over me. It was a humbling realization that the people surrounding me were not just fellow archaeologists, but passionate seekers of truth. They had made a conscious decision to commit their lives to unravel the cryptic tapestry of history, much like me.

Now, it seemed our collective perseverance, our relentless endeavors in the face of adversity were on the verge of yielding a discovery of historic proportions.

There, before us, was the imposing entrance to a tomb untouched by the sands of time. Its ancient stone door was an artistic tapestry of intricate carvings and cryptic hieroglyphs, a silent testament to the forgotten grandeur of an era long past.

Praise be, I breathed out, my voice barely a whisper, yet carrying the full weight of our discovery. We've found it.

Dr. Ravi? Tarek queried; his usually calm demeanor was replaced by wide-eyed curiosity. Fifth Dynasty! It’s clear, according to the design of the markings and the construction of the door. Could this truly belong to Khafre or one of his children?

My response was immediate, a simmering mix of excitement and disbelief infusing my voice. No, not Khafre himself. This is too far from his pyramid complex. This is a lesser noble’s tomb, I corrected, my fingers tracing the unique symbols etched onto the stone. Female, I would say.

Rekhetre, Fatima whispered but all I could do was smile. Could it truly be Khafre’s daughter? Rekhetre, both wife and daughter of a pharaoh of Egypt!

As the weight of our discovery began to sink in, a sense of jubilation swept through the site. This was more than just an archaeological success—it was a leap into the annals of forgotten history, the promise of a story untold for millennia, now ready to reveal its secrets.

Fascinating, murmured Fatima, her voice barely louder than a whisper as she traced the intricate carvings on the stone door. Confusion furrowed her brow, creasing her usually smooth forehead into lines of intrigue. This will be the first, Dr. Ravi. The absolute first. We're on the precipice of a groundbreaking discovery. A true find!

Indeed, I echoed, a note of pride resonating in my voice. My eyes remained riveted to the enigmatic doorway that had withstood the test of time. I waved my flashlight around and easily made out a few familiar names, Rekhetre was one of them. But scratched over her was another name. Not one that I was familiar with either. How does this read to you, Fatima? Hy—

"The full reading is the one who serves her mistress, Rekhetre. The one who will be avenged." I shivered at hearing Fatima’s interpretation but she was reading accurately. Ah, here’s the name. Hyala. Yes, that’s it! As she repeated the name so did I. While I said the name again, I shivered and experienced a strange sensation.

I felt as if I were rising and collapsing at the same time. I touched Fatima’s shoulder to steady myself.

Hyala. I have never heard of her. The words had barely left my lips when my mind began to teem with possibilities. The hallowed confines of the tomb remained an enigma, a tantalizing treasure trove of untold secrets.

Would it be untouched by the ravages of time? What untold mysteries did it guard within its stone walls?

What insights might it reveal about the obscure life of a ka-khet, if this Hyala proved to be one? Not many people agreed with my interpretation of the ancient documents. Even fewer would agree that the ancient Egyptian nobles would deign to use body doubles. Oh, but I was a believer. I always had been.

The questions swirled in a tantalizing dance, leaving only one way to unravel them.

Let's get to work, I announced, determination lacing my words. We have a tomb to explore. We're delving into the heart of history, friends.

As the sun bowed out for the day, surrendering the sky to the encroaching twilight, it cast elongated shadows that danced over the excavation site. In the dimming light, I stood amidst the whirlwind of activity, my hands resting on my hips as I surveyed the day's progress.

My back ached but I didn’t have the heart to complain. Many backs were aching in pursuit of history here tonight.

My team, a dedicated group of history enthusiasts, toiled on with indefatigable spirit, stoked by the potential of an unprecedented discovery that could forever alter the narrative of Egyptology.

Days passed and the digging continued. The first room was nearly fully excavated. I felt the pulse of history beating in sync with my heart, the significance of our discovery washing over me. The more we uncovered the forgotten tomb, the more I began to lean toward another theory. This tomb could not belong to Rekhetre, but rather to someone who knew her, and served her.

I was on the verge of proving the existence of the sacred body double, the ka-khet, the forgotten women of history whose lives were committed to mirroring and safeguarding their masters in every conceivable way. The more we worked, the more I believed this.

Would someone as prominent as Rekhetre be buried here? Without Menkaure or her children by her side? I didn’t think so. Add to that Princess Rekhetre’s name had been partially chiseled away to make room for someone else. But why?

Why would a ka-khet be buried in the princess’ tomb? But the lack of treasure would indicate that this could be the reality. 

Dr. Ravi, Ahmed called out from across the site. You need to see this. There’s another entrance. This is unbelievable!

With each beat, my heart played a discordant melody of anxiety and excitement, reverberating through my veins like a drum echoing in the vast confines of an empty cathedral.

Laboriously, I navigated my way toward Ahmed's team’s position. He was strategically encircled by a motley crew of other team members, each showcasing an amalgamation of expressions that mirrored my own—a cocktail of apprehension, curiosity, and determination.

I could almost taste the tension in the air, the sting of uncertainty making me hyperaware of my dry, parched lips that seemed to desperately cry out for hydration. Yet, in the face of such a discovery, the discomfort was a minor grievance, quickly forgotten.

A dull, throbbing ache radiated from the soles of my worn-out feet; an unceremonious souvenir of the arduous hours spent on the unyielding, ancient terrain. However, they paled in comparison to the monumental breakthrough that was within our grasp, rendering such physical fatigue trivial.

Ahmed and his crew, a band of weather-beaten archaeologists with their stories etched onto their faces, had been fervently working on a rather onerous task—removing a mammoth slab of stone.

This formidable obstacle had been jealously guarding a narrow passageway, the potential gateway to secrets buried by time itself.

Every strike of the pick and every scrape of the shovel was a testament to their unwavering resolve, each movement stirring a symphony of anticipation that seemed to pervade every crevice of the excavation site.

The atmosphere was saturated, heavy with more than just dust and debris. There was a palpable sense of expectation hanging over us, as tangible as the very air we breathed. Each inhalation seemed to fill the lungs with a cocktail of ancient minerals, the scent of the dry, stale earth being disturbed after centuries of slumber.

It was a unique aroma, a blend of primordial secrets and the relentless pursuit of knowledge—a fragrance that was a tantalizing teaser of the ancient history we were on the brink of unveiling. Each breath we drew was a testament to our journey, a sensorial reminder of the monumental mystery that lay right beneath our fingertips.

Show me, I implored, my voice a mere whisper that risked being drowned amidst the cacophonous symphony of my own racing heart.

Each pulsation resonated within my chest, throbbing with a rhythm that seemed deafeningly loud amidst the tranquil silence of the archeological site.

Ahmed, his handsomely carved face illuminated by a concoction of excitement and exhaustion, extended a dust-streaked hand towards the