Relic Unraveled: A Purr-fectly A-mews-ing Mummy Mystery

By Elise S Prehoda

He'll Have the Time of his Nine Lives!

Relic never thought he'd come whisker-to-whisker with a real cat mummy, but crazy things can happen when you're an archeologist's pet cat! And not just any cat, an Egyptian mau whose mummy cat ancestor needs his help. Together they'll travel back in time to ancient Thebes, but can Relic h

• Language: English
• Publisher: Electric Shadowgarden Press
• Release date: Nov 10, 2023
• ISBN: 9798988129004

Elise S Prehoda

Elise Prehoda is a graduate of Baldwin-Wallace University and has a master's in creative writing from the University of Sydney in Australia. She loves cats and history and lives and works in Cleveland. Relic Unraveled is her first novel.

Book preview

1

My name is Relic and I am a cat. Well, maybe still a kitten, but I turn twelve months old next week. A whole year! You may not believe this, but I’ve had a pretty wild life so far! What? You don’t think so? How could a kitten, so little and so cute—oh—and so smart, have such an exciting life at only a year old? Well, let me tell you. It all started one fateful afternoon. It was a day like any other. I’d spent most of it napping in Dr. Jones’s underwear drawer and playing with my favorite blue toy mouse, the one with the squeaker inside, when I noticed the coolest, shiniest urn on the fireplace mantel.

Oh, wait! Who is Dr. Jones, you ask? Well, he’s my pet parent, and he’s an archeologist and a professor. How else do you think I got this name? Relic. It means an object or custom that has survived from an earlier time. Well, we’ve got plenty of relics lying around, especially in Dr. Jones’s office, but I’m not an object or a custom, I’m a cat, an Egyptian Mau to be exact. But back to that afternoon. The afternoon that changed everything. Like I said, I noticed the coolest, shiniest urn on the fireplace and just had to investigate.

Hmm, that wasn’t there yesterday, I thought. Maybe if I just get a little closer with my nose, I can get a good whiff of this thing and figure out where it came from.

I was balancing with all four paws on the fireplace mantel, trying to examine a new urn that someone brought home yesterday. It was painted blue with pink flowers outlined in gold. It was round and shiny and so mysterious looking. Hmmm, I smell clay and potpourri. Ohhh, and it feels so good on my whiskers! As I began to rub up against the new vase, I must have pushed a little too hard with my nose, because before my paws could grab it, the urn tip-toppled to the edge of the mantel and CRASH! I looked down, my eyes wide with panic, at the heap of broken blue clay in a shattered mess on the floor.

Oh, great! What was that? yelled out Cleo from the kitchen.

What should I do? I panicked, jumping down and puffing up my tail. Flee the scene or face the music? Pretty soon the twins will be in here and I’ll be in trouble! Double trouble. Unless they cover for me! Oh, why couldn’t I just sleep all day like Ginger?

Probably Relic again. Let’s see what he’s gotten into this time, said Alexandria, heading into the living room, her phone up to her ear. Her eyes grew just as big as mine when she saw the scene of the crime. I was one paw away from slinking under the couch, but too late.

Oh, Relic! Man, you really did it this time! she said, looking from me to the broken bits of pottery and back again. I’m gonna have to call you back, she said into the phone and placed it on the mantel right where the vase used to be.

What happened? said Cleo, as she came running from the kitchen, where she was doing homework. She froze mid-step, staring at the mess of broken pottery. Dad brought that home yesterday.

I know, said Alex, slowly.

"Well, do you think it’s, you know, ancient?" asked Cleo softly, bending down to examine the shattered urn.

"If by ancient you mean super tacky, then yes, it looks really ancient. Well, it looked really ancient," she said, a little smile on her face.

Alex, that’s not funny! What if this is from, like, a dynasty or something? Cleo said, staring at it.

Then it was really stupid of Dad to put it on the fireplace mantel, especially now that we have a kitten running around, Alex said.

Okay, so it’s all Dr. Jones’s fault. Good to know. And now, if there’s nothing else, I’ll just be on my way, I thought, as I began to jump over the evidence.

Hold it right there, Relic, said Cleo, gently grabbing my back legs mid-jump. Argh, I almost got away with it!

We know you knocked over the vase, you little criminal, said Alex, crouching next to me.

You know we have to check, said Cleo, looking at Alex seriously.

Check what? The cat? What are we checking him for?

No! Check the vase. You know, for a label or whatever.

Cleo reached into the smashed pile of blue pottery and pulled out a curved piece of what used to be the vase.

Oh, here’s something, she held up a triangle of broken clay. Oh, it’s fine. It’s not too old. It’s just from the Ming dynasty, she said.

What? Alex gasped.

Oh, so you do care? giggled Cleo. Just kidding. It’s from the Knick Knack Shack!

Well, that’s what happens when your dad is an archeologist. You just can’t tell the difference between the new junk and the old junk anymore, said Alex, rolling her eyes and sighing with relief.

Seriously, Relic, you would have been in trouble when Mom and Dad got home if that thing were real, said Cleo, squeezing me in her arms.

Hey, I thought. What do you expect? We maus have been nosing around since the pyramids. It’s in my blood. It’s just who I am!

Well, you know where the broom is, said Alex, as she grabbed her phone off the fireplace. If you need me, I’ll be in my room, she said, as she hurried toward the hall.

Um, yeah, not so fast! said Cleo, If you stick me with this mess, I’m telling the whole eighth grade about the time you barfed on the bus on the way to summer camp!

Fine, I’ll get the broom, but you have to get the trash can! I ruined my favorite backpack that day, said Alex, shaking her head, a faraway look in her eyes.

Afternoon, Rel, said Ginger, passing me on the steps where I lay down to relax after the whole urn incident. Ginger is my housemate. She was here before I was and not too thrilled when I arrived, but she’s cool now. In fact, she’s really cool now. She sleeps everywhere and doesn’t even try to climb the curtains anymore. Man, I love climbing the curtains! It’s awesome! I love looking down over the whole living room, feeling like an amazing mountain climber, enjoying the peace and solitude of the ceiling. The air might be a little thin up there, but it’s worth it! I scooted over on the step to give her fluffy orange butt some room.

What was all that racket earlier? It woke me up. I’ve been sleeping on Cleo’s window seat since breakfast. Man, is it four o’clock already?

I knocked over a vase, I said, licking my paw, trying to hide my embarrassment.

Oh, yeah, which one? she asked. Not the new blue one with the flowers on it?

Yep, that’s the one, I said. "It was just an accident. I’m not exactly proud of myself, I mean, I know Dr. Jones just brought it home yesterday, but I was curious. Do you think he’ll be upset when he finds it? Or, well, doesn’t find it, because it’s all smashed up in the trash?"

I doubt he’ll even notice. Today is an artifact day. She yawned. And it’s almost time for him to come home from work too.

Artifact day?

"Yeah, I heard Mrs. Jones talking to him about needing the van. He only needs the van when he’s got artifacts to put in his office. Tonight should be interesting. I predict lots of whining from the twins. You know how they love heavy lifting. I’m gonna lie low this evening, probably find a basket of fresh laundry and have a good snooze. I suggest you get out of the way too, little guy. Maybe find an underwear drawer someone left open and call it an early night," she said, blinking sleepily.

Hmm, I’ve never been here for an artifact day, I said. Could be interesting.

"Listen, I was a kitten once too. I get it—all the new smells and crinkly packing paper. It can be fun, I’ll give you that, but there’s a lot of feet moving around, and they don’t always have time to look out for tails. If you do get involved, don’t say I didn’t warn you," she said, as she began to slink down to the laundry room.

Just as I watched her tail disappear behind a big basket full of towels, I heard Alex slam her bedroom door. She had changed into an old pair of jeans but was still glued to the phone. It was a good thing she kept that door shut. She’s a total slob! I went in one afternoon to rest up for my routine evening zoomies and found myself trapped in a landfill of dirty clothes, open science books, and forgotten old lunches that didn’t even look appealing to me, and I’ll try almost anything once. Anyway, I couldn’t spring out of there until Mrs. Jones came in to open a window and air out the dump, though I did entertain myself by reading a few juicy pages of her diary and a couple of songs she was writing.

"I finally know who I’m doing that project on. It was between Frida Kahlo and RBG, for a while I thought maybe Judy Chicago, but no, I know who I’m going with…Of course it’s Queen Ruth! She killed it on the Supreme Court and she had good style…I mean those pearls…Yes, I would totally wear them and I’d rock a frilly collar, I don’t care! That’s okay, I gotta go anyway, my dad’s bringing a bunch of artifacts home and we have to help. Yeah, I’ll text you…"

I followed her downstairs as she said goodbye.

Maybe I’ll hang around for some afternoon snack, I thought, scurrying under her feet.

Cheddar cheese and crackers is her favorite, and I’ve grown pretty fond of it too, especially the cheese part. I’m not supposed to have any of her snacks, but what Dr. and Mrs. Jones don’t know won’t hurt them. I mean, if we could keep that whole urn thing a secret, then we could definitely keep our lips sealed about a few crackers. She reached for the cupboard where I knew the snacks were kept, and I weaved in and out of her legs in my trademark figure eight motion.

Cleo looked up from her math book at the kitchen table and glared at Alex rummaging through the pantry.

Oh, great, you’re back, she groaned. "You better quit texting. We have to help Mom and Dad when they get home. There’s a